Page 37 of Omega's Virtue: Part One (The Hartwell Sisters Saga 2)

All around me, the smell of small cooking fires and men and mud. The cavalry encampment on the French border was lively even at this unholy hour. I shouldn’t have been out. I was meant to be greeting the general. The problem was I’d received word that the general was out walking amongst his men. So here I was, the son of a baronet, hunting down my commanding officer. Like a hound flushing his prey. Only a few more weeks and I’d be home.

A shout had Meeker’s head twitching towards the sound of a crowd, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Cap, want to witness a fight?” He asked. “Best thing you’ll see in all your years on the Goddess’ earth, I promise you that or my name ain’t George Meeker.”

The prospect of a fight between line soldiers did not interest me, and it was on the tip of my tongue to say so when Meeker, perhaps reading my expression, pressed his case.

“Cap… We’ve been looking for the General for an hour. Come and see. That alpha what’s a commissioned officer, taking on all comers. Tis a sight.”

And of a sudden my interest piqued. Which of my illustrious peers was grubbing himself up for the entertainment of the rabble? “Very well.”

Meeker pushed us through the crowd until we stood on the edge of the muddy ring in which an alpha and two betas circled each other. All were shirtless, bodies smeared with mud and sweat, and the scent of aggression thick in the air. The alpha was perfectly formed. Broad shoulders, heavily muscled, and yet his feet moved like he was a man carrying half his weight. What caught my eye though was the stormy determination on his face. As if instead of facing a pair of betas, he stared down the Devil himself and knew no fear.

His opponents never landed a punch, and he never threw one. Just as I thought this alpha was going to strike the final blow, he stood straight and allowed one of the betas to land a punch on his jaw, causing him to stumble back and fall into the mud.

It recalled the statue “The Dying Gaul.” A proud and powerful alpha laid low… Then, then this warrior got to his feet, shook the punch off, stretched his neck with a crack, and threw his fists up. As if nothing had happened he stood there, loose limbed and uncaring. With the next punch he knocked the other man out. The final beta received a punishing left and toppled next to his fellow. A roar went up in the crowd. Shouts of support, but also some booing.

I looked around the crowd and spotted the general. The old alpha had his arms crossed smirking at the scene. I’d yet to see the battle hardened alpha so triumphant, as if the winner was his own alpha son when I knew he only had omegas, a son and daughter.

The crowd dispersed, money exchanging hands, but the victor ignored them all. Instead, pulling on a shirt and stuffing the tails into his breeches. How? I could not understand his calm indifference to the growing bruise along his jaw or the feeling of victory after so easily dispatching of two men. What kind of alpha was he? And as I stepped forward, he turned away.

“Stop!” I allowed a little bark to enter my voice. “Soldier.”

The broad shoulders raised for a moment. A tense silence held before the other alpha turned around. His eyes narrowed and for a blink of an eye I thought he might be sneering at me. “Name, soldier?” I asked.

“Colonel Fordom. Though what business of—”

“Colonel Fordom?” I glared at him. Colonel Fordom’s name was on every officer’s lips. Fierce and fearless, uncaring of convention, and with a quick tongue. Most curiously though, none seemed to know his origins. Not possible. This alpha… He could not be a commissioned officer, nor the famous war hero. The alpha who’d held back the French, who’d single handedly led the charge and saved his entire regiment. He was too young for starters, he appeared too… Common. His accent, a thick Scots brogue.

“What’s it to you?” He asked.

“You aren’t who I was expecting.”

“Because I’m an uneducated son of a Scots printmaker?”

“I know nothing of your past. But—”

He laughed. A great rumble that didn’t quite burst from him. “You think you’re the first toff to sneer at my background.”

“Not I—”

“Don’t feel burdened to answer. I don’t care what you think. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must clean up before my appointment with the general.”

“Paxton. My name is Paxton.”

His eyes glittered for a moment before turning away and walking off.

Present.

Yes, I knew in that moment I’d have to possess him. It took our second meeting at the general’s table, but by the end of the evening we were sharing a beta and a truce of sorts settled between us.

I closed my eyes as the memory faded.

I’d not been fair to Jack last night. I should have stayed after what had passed between us. Talked to him. For I knew that he only let himself get beat to a pulp when his demons had reared their damned heads. I could only assume that seeing Beatrice, learning she had a mate, had set him off. He’d known her as a child. It was only right that he felt a protective need to take care of her. And his own attraction was undeniable. A potent mix for any alpha.

Hell, I felt the same. Beatrice Hartwell inflamed the blood and made me snarl at the thought of another alpha looking at her. Even the way Orley had watched her at dinner had my hackles rising. Oddly, though, it was her alpha mother who drew my anger more. That she disliked Jack was obvious and made her an immediate enemy.

Instead of talking, I’d insisted we fuck our hands because the room smelt of the pair of them. I’d never been so hard in my life at the image of the three of us tangled together with the fiery Beatrice Hartwell impaled on our knots. So it was without shame that I grabbed my cock and fucked my hand like a school boy all the while imagining the feeling of my soon to be lovers wrapping hot and slick about my length.

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