Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
When Cleghorn’s black eyes met his, Haydn barely stopped himself from tensing up. It was unexpectedly difficult to hold the politician’s gaze despite the man exuding the inoffensive, neutral scent of a beta. His own scent thickened, as it usually did when he was anxious, and Haydn could see a barely noticeable grimace cross Cleghorn’s face. He clearly didn’t care much for Haydn’s scent. In fact, Haydn could see something like dislike emanating off Cleghorn, dislike that made very little sense until Haydn remembered that the man’s lands were close to the border. Right. The owners of the border lands tended to dislike him. For a reason.
Pushing the uncomfortable thought away, Haydn told himself it was a good thing. If Cleghorn disliked him, their marriage would be on paper only, and Haydn wouldn’t have to share a bed with a stranger.
Not that Cleghorn was unattractive. Far from it. Royce Cleghorn was a very handsome man. Dark hair, dark eyes, a finely shaped mouth and a strong jaw. He was the type of beta Haydn usually hooked up with: tall and broad-shouldered, with a muscular chest and long, powerful legs. Theoretically, he wouldn’t mind having sex with him—except Cleghorn clearly didn’t share that opinion, his body language oddly aggressive.
Cleghorn gave him a stiff nod and clasped Haydn’s hand a little too hard.
Suppressing the urge to crush it back, Haydn met the other man’s gaze and smiled. He totally could be the better man.
Cleghorn’s black eyes narrowed a little.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Senator Cleghorn,” Haydn said in a calm voice, still smiling.
Something flickered in Cleghorn’s eyes. His jaw relaxed slightly, his broad shoulders losing some of their tension. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness,” he said, letting go of his hand. He had a very deep voice.
Haydn cleared his throat a little and looked around the room.
Prime Minister Taube seemed shorter than he did on the news. He was speaking to Haydn’s father and a tall, regal man who smelled strange.
His confusion must have been obvious, because Cleghorn clarified quietly, “That’s the Galactic Council representative, Lord Chancellor Ksar’ngh’chaali.” He tripped over the name and sighed. “Or Lord Ksar, as he allowed us to call him, because we kept butchering his name.”
Ah. So that man was an off-worlder. It explained why he smelled off. Although the vast majority of the races in the galaxy looked similar enough, there were still enough differences in every species’ biology to make every race unique.
“His people don’t have designations?” Haydn murmured, glancing back at Cleghorn and quickly looking away. He didn’t know why this man was making him so uncomfortable.
Cleghorn shook his head. “He’s a Calluvian. Be careful with your thoughts. He’s a telepath.”
Haydn suppressed a shudder of unease. There were not all that many telepathic species in the Union, thank fuck. He could protect himself from physical weapons and brute power. Telepathic onslaught was another matter entirely.
He found himself taking an involuntary step away from the telepath—and right into Cleghorn’s personal space.
Cleghorn stiffened, his neutral scent spiking with something that smelled like the air after a thunderstorm.
The side of Haydn’s neck prickled. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that his neck was bare.
He quickly stepped away from Cleghorn, unease churning in his gut.
Fuck.
He had no idea why this beta put him so on edge.
***
Haydn Schaefer was somehow exactly what he had expected and nothing like it at the same time.
Royce tried not to frown as he eyed the prince, who was speaking to King Stefan across the room.
“If you keep glaring at him, people are going to notice,” Belinda said, touching his arm. “Stop glaring.”
“I’m not glaring,” Royce said stiffly.
His little sister rolled her eyes. “Fine. Stop staring, then. You’re being rude.” She looked at him curiously. “That’s not like you.”
She was right: it wasn’t.
Royce forced himself to look away. He shoved his clenched fists into the pockets of his suit pants and took a deep breath. Calm. He could be calm. This wasn’t him.
“You’re lucky, brother,” Belinda said. “He’s very charming. And so handsome.”
Royce smiled ruefully at his younger sister. “Of course you would think that. You’re an omega.”
Belinda smacked him on the arm, grinning good-naturedly. “I resent that! Just because he’s an alpha, it doesn’t mean I must find him attractive. He does smell good, though.”
Royce certainly didn’t share that opinion. Haydn Schaefer’s scent made his hackles rise more than any other alpha’s did. The prince’s strong scent, a mix of leather, iron, and campfire, rubbed Royce the wrong way, making him want to posture and prove himself superior. The primitive urge only irritated him. He had always prided himself on never participating in the alpha male posturing. He wasn’t an uncivilized animal. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted so badly to another alpha.
Fuck, this marriage was going to be a disaster.