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Vox prided himself on three things:
His control.
His image.
And above all—his distance.
Emotion was messy. Emotion was inefficient. Emotion was a relic from the human life he’d long since shed, right along with his skin and whatever heart had once beaten inside it.
So when he walked into the Overlords’ monthly summit and felt his circuits spike before he even saw the source, he knew something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Because the scent that hit him first wasn’t Alastor’s.
No—this one was thick. Overbearing. Sweaty. An alpha trying far too hard to smell dominant. Vox tasted the air through his vents and nearly gagged.
Whoever this was, he stank of desperation.
Then he saw him.
A lower-tier alpha—“Lord Radan,” self-proclaimed but laughed at behind his back standing in the middle of the hall with a bouquet of wilted flowers and the dumbest lovestruck grin Vox had ever seen.
He stood directly in front of him.
In front of Alastor.
And Alastor was smiling.
That smile—dangerous, polite, sharp as a polished blade—curved with a hint of mockery in the surface across his face as he looked down at the bouquet being shoved in front of him.
“Oh my, my,” Alastor chirped, voice glowing with false warmth. “How… bold.”
Vox’s fingers spasmed around the edge of the table.
Bold?
Alastor was calling this clown bold?
A glitch flickered across Vox’s screen.
“Is this—” the lesser alpha stuttered, offering the flowers with trembling hands, “—is this an acceptable courting gesture, Sir Alastor?”
Vox made a static sound that absolutely was not a snarl.
Alastor leaned forward, eyes half-lidded, the picture of amused mockery.
“For me?”
He tilted his head. “How... flattering.”
Vox’s vision went blue.
He didn’t remember moving. One moment he was across the hall—cold, distant, composed. The next he was standing just behind the idiot alpha, electricity crawling under his skin.
He felt possessive.
He felt wrong.
He felt furious.
“Radan,” Vox said, voice calm in the way that meant danger. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
The lesser alpha stiffened. His scent soured instantly—fear mixed with embarrassment.
Good.
“Oh! Lord Vox, I—I didn’t realize you were—”
“Standing right here?” Vox finished, smiling with pixels too sharp to be polite. “Watching this embarrassing spectacle?”
Alastor chuckled softly.
Of course he did.
He was enjoying this.
Vox’s circuits buzzed.
The idiot alpha swallowed. “I simply wished to express interest—”
“to my—”
The word almost came out.
To my omega.
Vox stopped. Mid-syllable.
His processors screamed at him, aborting the sentence with emergency protocol violence.
Alastor’s ears twitched.
Slowly, exquisitely, he turned toward Vox.
“Your… what, Vox?” he asked sweetly.
Mokingly.
Vox said nothing. He couldn’t. Every line of code in his body was locking down to keep him from saying it again.
The lesser alpha blinked between them, confused. “I didn’t know Lord Alastor was… claimed.”
“Im not,” Alastor said with a sunny grin. “Isn’t that right, Vox?”
The words sliced him open.
Vox forced his voice into something neutral. “Of course not.”
Alastor’s eyes glittered.
Then—then that bastard laughed.
Quietly, under his breath, like he’d just found the world’s funniest joke.
And the joke was Vox.
“Radan,” Alastor said, turning back to the shaking alpha, “your gesture is appreciated, but I’m afraid I must decline.”
“Oh—oh! Of course!” Radan bowed. “Forgive me, I just thought—”
Alastor stepped closer, sniffing subtly in his direction. “You smell so eager, my dear fellow. It is admirable. Really.”
Vox twitched.
Alastor smelled the air again—performative, taunting, aware Vox was watching.
“As for seeking an omega…” Alastor said, patting Radan’s shoulder. “Perhaps consider someone with lower standards.”
Vox snorted.
Radan wilted. “Y-Yes, Sir.”
He practically ran from the room.
Silence followed.
Then—
“Well,” Alastor said, turning fully toward Vox now, “that was entertaining.”
Vox’s voice cracked with static. “You think letting that weakling court you is entertaining?”
“Oh, Vincent,” Alastor sighed, tone dripping condescension. “Jealousy does not suit you.”
“I’m not jealous.”
Alastor stepped closer.
Too close.
Close enough that Vox could smell his scent—faint but unmistakable, sweet and warm and sharp like metallic blood over cold static.
Alastor leaned in, lips nearly brushing Vox’s cheek.
“You nearly killed that boy,” he murmured. “For what? A bouquet?”
Vox’s breath crackled. “I was preventing an embarrassment.”
Alastor’s smile widened. “Of him… or of yourself?”
Vox glitched.
Alastor’s voice lowered, intimate, cruel.
“Tell me, Vox… why do you care who courts me?”
Vox swallowed electricity. “I don’t.”
Alastor’s laugh was velvet and knives.
“My, my,” he whispered. “You are very poor at lying to an omega.”
Vox’s systems overheated.
Alastor stepped back, hands clasped behind him, tail swaying slowly like a metronome of mockery.
“You know,” he said, tilting his head, “if you wished to court me—”
Vox seized up.
“If,” Alastor repeated, savoring it, “you wished to pursue me, you might try being less obvious. Your little outburst was… mm. Amateur.”
Vox couldn’t breathe.
Alastor smiled wider.
“Oh dear,” he cooed, “have I struck a nerve?”
“You’re enjoying this,” Vox growled.
“Of course,” Alastor said brightly. “Unrequited affection is such a delightful thing, don’t you think?”
Vox froze entirely.
Alastor leaned forward again, whispering in his ear:
“It’s adorable how you think you’re hiding it.”
Then—he tapped Vox’s cheek with two fingers.
“Cheer up, old pal!” he said, stepping away. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Vox’s voice dropped to a dangerous hiss. “Alastor.”
Alastor paused, looking back.
“Yes?”
Vox’s static rippled across the room. “Don’t mock me.”
Alastor’s grin sharpened.
“Vox,” he said sharply, “I mock everyone.”
And with a cheerful wave, he strode toward the meeting table, humming as though nothing had happened.
Vox stood frozen in place, feeling something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Humiliation.
Desire.
Rage.
And under all of it—
The terrible, undeniable truth:
He had almost claimed Alastor was his omega in front of half the ruling class.
And Alastor had enjoyed every second.