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  1. Tags
    Summary

    He was aware of the distinction between rut-biology and what lived underneath it. More, perhaps, than other Alphas. Rut would drive any alpha toward a willing omega — that was simple chemistry, not worth examining. He had spent sixteen years of marriage keeping his cycle to himself and his biology away from the bedroom, where his Beta Wife had wanted nothing to do with it. But his rut had had Maomao's face on it for longer than this evening. Her scent, the sweet-floral thing that bled through her suppressants in the hours of morning briefings, the particular warmth of it he'd been cataloguing for fourteen months — that was not the rut's doing. That was his.

    The rut-brain produced its wants without embarrassment: his omega. Mine. Keep her. The rest of him had always had a less tidy relationship with wanting things that he had no right to.

    Good, his rut-brain had purred, when he'd smelled her failing suppressants in the morning briefing three days ago. She came first. She should come. She should always—

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