Chapter 5: Genesis Doesn't Share

Troy had not slept more than an hour, and the practice yard was the only place he could stand to be.

He swung the training sword until his shoulders burned.

Around him the warriors of Genesis drilled in pairs, and every one of them kept a careful distance from their Prime.

They had seen the marks.

The bites were fading from his throat, but the ring of silver crescents on his shoulder pulsed whenever he thought about the omega.

He thought about the omega constantly.

He had walked into that room to claim a spoiled palace villain, and he had walked out kneeling.

Lucas had not even asked his name.

Troy knew the reason, and it burned worse than the bruises. Lucas hadn't needed to ask.

The whole kingdom knew who Troy was, and Lucas had only said: Sit.

And he had sat.

His rut had been due that morning.

Every month Troy locked himself in the north tower for three days and tore up furniture.

This morning he had woken calm.

He did not know what that meant, and he was afraid to find out.

"Prime," said a young guard at the edge of the yard. "Optimus has come."

Troy turned.

Felix was crossing the yard in grey and silver, with his pale hair tied back and his back very straight.

He was also limping.

It was a slight limp, the kind a man hides, and Troy would not have caught it if he hadn't spent the whole morning walking exactly the same way.

Felix saw him looking. His chin lifted.

Under the open collar of his coat, a fresh bite mark showed purple against the pale skin of his chest.

Troy dropped the sword.

"You," he said.

"Troy."

"You were with him."

"I was." Felix stopped an arm's length away. "As you were. I see he did not mark my neck, which I asked, and that you were not so careful."

Anger rose in Troy so fast that his hands shook.

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