Chapter 3 Three

Haydn stared at himself in the mirror, eyeing his new suit critically.

The dark fabric hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his trim waist.

Few would probably guess how much effort he put into keeping himself in such shape.

Haydn was naturally rather lean, but his intense training and years of war had shaped his physique into one most alphas were born with.

He wondered idly if he would become leaner again if the war ended. Shaking the errant thought off, Haydn ran a hand through his carefully styled hair and smiled at his vanity.

There was no use "prettying himself up" for this, as Devlin would say. This was just a political arrangement. His future spouse wasn't going to care what he looked like. A knock on the door made him flinch.

"Your Highness, His Majesty, and the Queen are waiting for you in the plane."

"Thank you, I'm coming." The flight to Citra, Kadar's capital, didn't take long, but it was excruciating nonetheless.

Haydn was forced to listen to his father's angry tirade about how the wedding ceremony should have taken place in their kingdom and how humiliating and dangerous it was that they had to travel into enemy territory.

"Father, the Kadarians are hardly going to attack us in front of the Galactic Council representative," Haydn said in his most patient voice, but of course, his father ignored his words.

As usual. Haydn had never been more relieved to get off a plane.

He loved his father and had looked up to him as a boy, but as an adult, he could tolerate him only in small doses.

There were too many things he disagreed with him on, things he had to keep his mouth shut about because King Stefan wasn't interested in opinions besides his own.

As the helicopter took them from the airport to the Opal House, Haydn looked at the city with interest.

He'd never been to Citra before. He had to admit the sleek, minimalist architecture of Kadar's capital was very pleasing to the eye.

The Opal House, the prime minister's official residence, was a tall building in the center of the city. As the helicopter landed on its roof, Haydn took a deep breath, his heart beating fast.

Here goes nothing. He hadn't expected to recognize the beta the Kadarians had picked to represent their country.

But one look at the tall man who stood beside Prime Minister Taube was enough for Haydn to place him.

Senator Royce Cleghorn was one of the few Kadarian politicians who were well-known even in Perugia.

In politics from a young age, he was the leader of the Liberal party, famous for the single-minded pursuit of his goals.

He was rumored to be the current favorite to win the prime minister position next year. Haydn wasn't sure how true those rumors were. The Kadarian political system was a confusing one.

There used to be an elected president, but after the last president was removed from the position with a vote of no-confidence, the constitution had been rewritten, and the prime minister was now elected through a combination of a popular vote and the Senate voting.

Haydn wasn't sure of the particulars, but he had heard that Royce Cleghorn was immensely popular both in the Senate and among the general population, so unless something happened to destroy his reputation, Cleghorn was likely going to be the next Head of State.

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 scent thickened, as it usually did when he was anxious, and Haydn could see a barely noticeable grimace cross Cleghorn's face.

He didn't care much for Haydn's scent. Haydn could see something like dislike emanating from Cleghorn, a 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 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. The telepathic onslaught was another matter entirely.

He found himself taking an involuntary step away from the telepathy 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 alphas 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.

The only saving grace was the fact that the prince was unexpectedly mild-tempered for an alpha.

He hadn't reacted to Royce's instinctive posturing at all. He just smiled neutrally and seemed... nice. It threw Royce off balance.

He had expected a typical arrogant alpha. Instead, he was the one who had ended up acting like the dreaded cliché.

"Admit it, he's very attractive," Belinda said, elbowing him. Royce glanced at the prince. "He's too tall." And too alpha.

"His height is perfect, you ass. He's your height!" Royce grimaced. He didn't bother telling his baby sister that he was attracted to petite omegas half his size.

Although Belinda knew he was an alpha, Royce often thought that she forgot about his real designation or didn't give it much thought.

He was just an older brother to her, not a sexual being or his designation.

"Sometimes alphas fall for alphas," Belinda murmured in a very quiet voice, proving that she did remember his designation after all.

"Don't be so closed-minded, brother. Maybe it'll work out." Royce suppressed another grimace. It wasn't a matter of him being closed-minded or old-fashioned.

He wasn't. He was the head of the Liberal Party for a reason.

Unfortunately, his tastes were very traditional: he simply didn't find alphas attractive.

All they managed to provoke in him was alertness or dislike usually. His reaction to Haydn Schaefer was more extreme, for some bizarre reason.

"He has a gorgeous smile," Belinda said. "Then maybe you should marry him," Royce said dryly.

Belinda laughed. Kissing him on the cheek, she walked away, toward their mother, who was speaking with the marriage officiant.

Or rather, a marriage officiant, because there were two of them a Kadarian and a Pelugian so that the marriage would be recognized by both country's laws.

Royce looked away. It was hard to believe that in less than an hour, he would be a married man. It all seemed to be happening too quickly.

On the other hand, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Lord Ksar'ngh'chaali was impatient to get it over with and leave their planet.

Royce had heard that he was a recently married man himself. He was probably eager to return home to his spouse.

Unlike him, Lord Ksar'ngh'chaali likely looked forward to getting into his spouse's bed. Royce glanced at his future husband and tried to convince himself that he was attractive.

He couldn't. Prince Haydn was too tall, too muscular, and too alpha for his tastes. Though to be fair, he did have a nice mouth. A very pretty mouth. It was full and very pink.

His blue eyes were rather nice, too: an unusual color that was so bright and warm it would never be mistaken for gray. His hands were good, with long, aristocratic fingers that seemed too elegant to hold a weapon.

Which only proved how deceptive appearances could be. That man was a killer. Averting his gaze, Royce told himself to be rational.

They had been at war. It wasn't Prince Haydn's fault that he had killed enemy soldiers during the war.

Royce had to stop allowing his alpha instincts to affect his judgment. He had to at least try. He was a rational man. He was more than his designation.

He didn't have to be attracted to his husband; tolerating him would be enough. It would be a marriage on paper only. He could suppress his instincts. He could do it. He could do it for his country.

For his family. It had been nearly eight years since he'd last seen his younger brother. If the war truly ended, Aksel would finally come home. That was as good an incentive as any.

He had to try to get along with Haydn Schaefer instead of imagining pushing him to his knees and making him submit. The irritating part was, Royce wasn't even sure what that submission would entail.

His body just felt on edge, his alpha instincts making it hard to think rationally. Get a grip. This isn't you, dammit.