The Defective Omega's Six Perfect Alphas

Ansel stopped three steps away from Blake Tucker, a carefully measured distance—not too close to be intimate, not too far to be rude.

One of Blake's friends let out a low whistle and nudged him with an elbow, a smirk on his face that said, "You dog."

Blake basked in the attention. He leaned against the cold steel of the mech, crossing his arms over his chest in a display of casual dominance. "Greer," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "I didn't think you'd actually come find me."

Ansel ignored the greeting. He reached into the paper bag and pulled out a small bundle of white Narcissus flowers, their roots still balled in damp earth and carefully wrapped. The delicate blooms looked strikingly out of place amid the metal and sweat, releasing a faint, cool fragrance.

Blake stared, momentarily speechless. He had expected an expensive gift, perhaps even a desperate confession letter. Instead, Ansel had brought him flowers.

"Narcissus," Ansel said gently. "There’s an old myth about a beautiful man who fell in love with his own reflection. I thought they suited you."

His tone was so mild that Blake needed a second to recognize the insult beneath it. Ansel stood before him looking calm and almost tender, yet the quiet sharpness in his pale eyes made it clear that the gift was not an offering of affection. It was a beautifully wrapped mockery.

One of Blake’s friends choked back a laugh. "He brought you flowers because he thinks you’re a self-obsessed ass."

Blake shot him a warning glare, unwilling to let his embarrassment show. His attention quickly returned to Ansel. Up close, the Omega was even more beautiful than Blake remembered. His lashes cast faint shadows beneath his eyes, his skin looked smooth enough to bruise under a firm grip, and his slender waist seemed made to fit between an Alpha’s hands. The contrast between that soft appearance and his hidden claws only made Blake want him more. He found himself imagining what Ansel’s composed face would look like flushed and breathless, all that quiet defiance finally broken beneath him.

"I love them," Blake said, recovering his smile. "Very thoughtful of you."

He took the flowers, deliberately dragging his fingers across Ansel’s. Ansel recoiled as if struck by static, withdrawing his hand at once.

A smirk touched Blake's lips. He interpreted the reaction as shy submission. "I love them. Very thoughtful of you," he purred, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur.

"I heard you were studying plant energy mutations in high-radiation environments," Ansel said, his voice flat and businesslike, completely cutting through Blake's attempted seduction.

Blake's smile tightened. He had taken that obscure elective to fill a credit requirement. Hardly anyone knew about it. "How did you know that?" His eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine curiosity replacing the predatory gleam.

"Library loan records are public," Ansel replied simply, stating a fact.

The answer made Blake feel exposed, as if Ansel had been studying him like one of his plants. The feeling was irritating, but it also stoked the fire of his desire to conquer. "So, you didn't come for me? You came for my coursework?" he asked, feigning a wounded tone.

"I need to borrow your access," Ansel said, his gaze shifting to a simulation pod designed for high-radiation training. "I want to experience the field's interference on an energy signature firsthand."

Blake's friends gasped. "Is he crazy?" one of them whispered. "A high-rad field can permanently damage an Omega's energy signature, especially a defective one!"

Even Blake frowned. It was dangerous. But then he looked at Ansel’s calm, beautiful face, and a cruel fantasy unfurled in his mind.

The radiation would overwhelm the Omega’s defective energy field within minutes. Ansel would grow dizzy, his legs weakening until he could barely remain upright. Blake could picture himself entering the sealed pod and catching him around that narrow waist before he fell. Ansel would have no choice but to cling to him, trembling and breathless, his cold pride finally replaced by helpless need.

Perhaps Blake would press him against the pod wall under the pretense of checking his condition. He would pin Ansel there with his body, slide a hand down his shaking thigh, and murmur against his ear that this was what happened when a fragile Omega wandered into an Alpha’s territory. If Ansel tried to resist, Blake would only tighten his hold until that beautiful face flushed and those pale eyes lost their composure.

In a sealed, private pod, no one outside would see how thoroughly Blake made him submit.

"Of course," Blake said, his smile returning, now full of false generosity. "For an Omega so dedicated to his studies, I'm happy to make an exception."

He walked to the pod, swiping his ID to grant access. The door hissed open. He leaned in close to Ansel, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of Ansel's ear. "But be careful in there," he whispered. "If you can't handle it, just call out for me. I'll be the first one in to save you."

Ansel's body went rigid for a fraction of a second. He took a half-step back, creating a clean, cool space between them.

"Thank you," he said politely. Then, without a flicker of hesitation, he stepped into the simulation pod.

The door sealed behind him, shutting out the world.

"Blake, are you sure about this?" one of his friends asked, his voice low. "If something happens, the Greer family might be washed up, but they can still make trouble."

"What's to be afraid of?" Blake said, looking down at the Narcissus flowers in his hand with a dismissive smirk. "He's a defective Omega. What's the worst that can happen? This is just a new, stupidly complicated way for him to get my attention." He tossed the flowers to his friend. "Hold these for me. They're a token of affection from my little admirer."

Inside the pod, Ansel closed his eyes, ignoring the system's blaring startup warnings. He hadn't come here to feel radiation. He was here to test something else entirely. The simulation program activated, the screen flashing with the words: HIGH-RADIATION BATTLEFIELD SIMULATION.

Outside, Blake watched the blurry silhouette through the one-way glass, a smug, predatory light in his eyes. He was already picturing it: Ansel, pale and weak, his energy field in chaos, begging for his help.