The Defective Omega's Six Perfect Alphas

Ansel's wrist terminal vibrated as the advanced botany seminar ended.

Mandatory Pheromone Compatibility Test

Subject: Ansel Greer

Appointment: Today, 3:00 p.m.

He turned eighteen today. Like every adult Alpha and Omega in the Empire, he was required to undergo an official matching test.

Not that anyone expected his result to change.

Ansel had been classified as a defective Tier-3 male Omega. His pheromones were so faint that no Alpha could detect them, let alone enter rut or form a beast-mark bond with him. In the eyes of his family and the academy, he was a beautiful but useless Omega who would never produce a high-ranking Alpha heir.

Ansel dismissed the notification and brushed his fingertips over one luminous petal of the Moonlight Orchid before him. The plant's gentle energy quieted his mind for a fleeting moment. Then he collected a small paper bag from the worktable and left the greenhouse.

Whispers followed the unwanted last son of the declining Greer family across campus, but Ansel ignored them and headed straight for the Ares Training Center.

The massive doors slid open, releasing a blast of air thick with sweat, heated metal, and concentrated Alpha pheromones. Muscular Alphas filled the combat rings and mech simulators. The moment Ansel stepped inside, the noise dropped to a murmur.

Ansel's entrance was like a drop of cold water in a vat of boiling oil. Every head turned.

An Alpha, polishing a piece of his mech model, stopped his work. His eyes raked over Ansel's slender frame, a slow, insolent appraisal. He nudged his companion.

"Look," he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Isn't that the defective Omega from the Greer family?"

His friend snorted. "What's he doing in here? A Beta can at least work, have children, and keep the Empire running. What use is an Omega no Alpha can even smell?"

"Decoration," the first Alpha said. His gaze dragged over Ansel's narrow waist. "A normal Omega can trigger an Alpha's rut, take his beast mark, and give him powerful heirs. This one's only good for looking at."

Another Alpha laughed. "With that face and body, he could still have half the men here fighting over who gets to put him on his knees."

"Maybe that's why he came," his companion added. "If his scent can't make an Alpha hard, he might be planning to use that pretty mouth instead."

Several Alphas laughed openly, staring at Ansel with undisguised lust. They found him beautiful enough to fantasize about, but none of them considered him worthy of a bond. To them, a defective Omega was suitable only for entertainment.

Ansel acted as if he heard nothing. His gaze swept calmly across the hall, his pale eyes searching.

The first Alpha swaggered over, blocking his path with a wall of muscle and condescension. "Hey, little guy. You lost? The Omega lounge is in the other building."

Ansel finally lifted his gaze to meet the Alpha's. There was no fear in his eyes, no shyness. Only a flat, unnerving calm.

"I'm looking for someone." His voice was soft, yet carried a note of cool distance.

"Looking for someone?" the Alpha laughed, a theatrical, booming sound. "Let me guess. Blake Tucker?"

Blake Tucker was a wealthy young male from one of the most influential families in the capital. More importantly, he was one of the academy's rare elite Alphas, praised as a prodigy from the moment his rank was confirmed.

A few of the surrounding Alphas chuckled, their expressions a mixture of mockery and amusement. Ansel's silence was taken as confirmation.

The lead Alpha reached out to clap a patronizing hand on his shoulder. Ansel shifted his weight, a subtle, fluid movement that caused the hand to miss its mark.

The Alpha's hand hung awkwardly in the air. His embarrassment quickly curdled into annoyance. "Don't waste your time. I just heard the Tucker family is in talks with the Fords. They're matching Blake with their Omega."

"A normal Omega," another Alpha added with a leer. "One whose pheromones can actually make him want to mate. Blake might enjoy looking at you, but what use is a pretty Omega who can't even make an Alpha enter rut?"

Someone behind him snickered. "He could still warm Blake's bed. As long as Blake doesn't expect a beast mark or an heir, that face alone should be worth a few nights."

"A few nights?" the first Alpha scoffed. His gaze dragged over Ansel again. "I'd give him one. Then I'd find an Omega whose body actually works."

Cruel laughter spread through the group. They waited eagerly for Ansel's beautiful face to crumple, certain that humiliating the defective Omega would provide the afternoon's entertainment.