Chapter Text
This was a disaster.
He had finished off the previous season on a high, exposing Lord Featherington for the scoundrel that he was, making sure that the Featherington women knew exactly who had invited himself into their generous home. Colin’s blood boiled at the thought of the man, no, the bastard, who had so shamelessly exploited the kindness of such a good family. Afterwards, Colin had been practically floating as he had pulled Pen for a dance. Astonishing she had called him, making him feel ten feet tall.
Of course, Colin had been aware that he had received some help and that there were amends that had to be made. A simple apology would not have sufficed and so, he had invited some of the wealthiest, most esteemed gentlemen of the Ton to Will Mondrich’s club. By the end of the night, the Mondrich’s gentlemen’s club had been booming with business, many promising to return the coming days and Colin had gone to bed extremely pleased with himself and also a fair bit drunk.
A few days later, he had set sail for the Mediterranean, excited to explore familiar lands and discover new treasures.
However, that excitement had barely lasted for two weeks and ever since, he had become very unpleasant to be around.
Colin was aware of the wary glances the crew sent him on a regular basis. He had noticed it straight away. He could smell their agitation, their fear. The stench filled his nostrils, so strong it even covered up the putrid smell of some of the other men onboard who seemingly had never heard of the concept of soap.
When he had growled at the cabin boy the other day, the young lad shaking in terror, white as sheet, Colin had known it had gotten too far. He was barely keeping it together, his animal gaining far too much power as the irritation put him on edge.
For Gods sake, he was a Bridgerton. A prestigious family of handsome, well-mannered Alpha men and very pretty, gentle Omega women. They were the darlings of the Ton, favoured by the Queen, as well as the Ton’s Elder, Lady Danbury. Every lord and lady were dying to have their offspring marry into the Bridgerton family, a dynasty that had produced a long line of most eligible Alphas and Omegas.
If the Ton could see him now, they would think him no more than a wild beast.
He had never experienced such rage. When he had seen himself in the mirror, eyes bloodshot, fangs extended, nostrils flaring, he had punched right through it, shards of glass splattering all over the ship cabin. His hand had started bleeding profusely, but he had barely felt a thing, the adrenaline coursing through his body, dulling the pain.
This had never happened before. Colin usually carried himself in such a mild demeanour. Nobody would think him capable of harming a fly.
Now, however, he wanted to hurt someone. Badly. He needed to release his anger somehow. He needed to feel.
Back in Venice, there had been many Omega women throwing themselves at him, drawn in by his masculine scent, the overload of testosterone in his body, rushing through his veins. Many had offered themselves to him, promising him a good time. Promising him release.
He had been tempted, for sure. But the animal inside him would not let him. His rational brain saw that all these women, all these Omegas, had been pretty, even though some of them had needed a fair amount of makeup to make their eyes look bigger and their lips redder to look appealing.
But the Alpha in him saw nothing more than disfigured hags, disgusting creatures that made him nauseous, their touch like poison to his skin. On more than one occasion, the overly sweet tang of their heavy perfume had nearly caused him to empty his stomach right into the canal.
Colin was certainly a lot less experienced than his older brothers, but he was still a man, and a hot-blooded Alpha at that. He had needs. The tension inside him turned him rock hard, his thick cock aching for release.
However, if he so much as considered seeking out a brothel to relieve some of that tension that had made him snap at the crew so many times now he had lost count, the weathered men shivering in fear at his outbursts, the Alpha in him would revolt.
“No. Need my Omega.”
At this stage, he was lucky they had not chained him up and thrown him overboard, yet. To be fair, they were likely too scared that he would break out of those chains and tear the entire ship to shreds. Little did they know how correct they were in that assumption.
In a moment of clarity, Colin had decided that it would be best for everyone involved if he remained in his chamber as much as possible, only coming out when absolutely necessary or when they had set anchor somewhere he could walk around without having to interact with too many people. England was still weeks away.
He did not understand what was happening to him and he did not like it one bit. He had considered contacting his family about it, however, after the events of the last two seasons, his relationship with Anthony was rather strained, and Benedict had decided to shut everyone out and wallow in self-pity for the time being. The letters from his family, mostly his mother and the occasional word from Daphne or Francesca had been most unrewarding.
There was only one person he longed to hear from. One person he longed to speak to. But no matter how many letters he sent, he never received one in return. At every port, he checked for any news and quickly deflated when all he found were updates on Aubrey Hall’s new wallpaper or Hastings Estate’s carpet cleaning schedule.
It drove him mad. He could not think of a reason why she would halt their correspondence so abruptly. Last year, not a week had gone by without at least two letters in her elegant handwriting, her musings often more entertaining than anything else he would come across during his journey. In person, she had always seemed so reserved, rarely letting her quick wit and her sharp tongue shine through. But on paper, she was magnificent, a true wordsmith.
They had ended the season on such good terms, great terms even judging by the way she had looked at him, as if he were not a man, but something more. A god, perhaps, like the ones laboriously chiseled out of the finest marble, decorating the temples of Athens, Knossos and the likes. It was that look, that memory of her hand in his, her heaving bosom that had him hard in an instant. Sometimes, he wondered what they could have done in that room had Lord and Lady Featherington not barged in.
But he would not allow to indulge himself. It was wrong.
Not only was lusting after your sister’s best friend against any moral code in existence. It went against nature, against everything he was, everything they were. It would break all the rules carefully curated by evolution, refined over millions of years.
He simply could not be attracted to Penelope Featherington.
Because she was a Beta.
This was going to be the worst season of her life.
She had been miserable all throughout the off season. Her family had found itself at the brink of ruin yet again, abandoned by yet another Lord Featherington and only somewhat saved by the fact that they were women and society saw women as no more than broodmares if you were an Omega and a nuisance if you were born a Beta. The Featheringtons were all Betas and everyone only pitied them for what had happened last year.
While Betas could marry and have pups with other Betas, their bond was less powerful, less respected than Alpha-Omega bonds. Alphas carried all the power in the world. From politics to business and even in church, Alphas were in charge, they were in control. And nobody dared to question the social order, as Alpha biology made them incredibly strong, capable of tearing off limbs with their bare arms, their teeth sharp as razors.
The only thing that could control an Alpha, that could influence their thinking and action, was an Omega. Omegas were often underestimated purely based on misogyny. In truth, mated pairs represented balance, equal partnership. The Alpha protected the Omega, and the Omega nurtured the Alpha. An Omega could bring a grown Alpha to his knees if she so wished.
While Betas had titles and land bestowed upon them just like anyone else, an Alpha-Omega bond always carried more weight. There had been a not insignificant number of cases in which the inheritance had skipped over a first-born Beta son, outranked by a younger Alpha son or, in some cases, even by an Omega daughter and her Alpha mate.
The off season had carried a lot of change with it. In one night, Penelope had lost not one, but two best friends within the span of a few short minutes. Eloise had found out about her double life as Lady Whistledown and while Penelope felt guilty about a lot of the things she had said that night and a lot of the things she had done that had lead up to that night, she also felt hurt at the realisation that Eloise had never really seen her.
Could you really call yourselves friends if one never listened and the other never spoke? She had tried so many time to tell the truth, to reveal her identity to her friend. But in the end, she had been a coward. She had remained in the shadows and it was her fault it had all blown up in her face like that.
Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.
Though cruel, it had not been the words per se that had her cry herself to sleep that night. And the ones that followed. No, it was the way he had said it. The way his deep, rich voice that had promised to always look out for her only a few minutes earlier had turned into a mocking laugh. As if the idea of courting her would be ridiculous. As if she was ridiculous.
Colin Bridgerton had been her escapist fantasy for years. A beam of light in the darkness that was her life. She had never really believed that someone as good and kind and handsome as him, someone from such a reputable family, an Alpha no less, would ever truly see someone like her in a romantic way. She might be naïve at times, but she was not stupid.
Even if she were more attractive, she was sure to present as a Beta soon and matches between Alphas and Betas were unheard of. They did not exist. They were not compatible. People had tried and in every single case, the Beta had died at an attempt of coupling, not that she fully understood the intricacies of the process.
So no, there was no way they would ever be together. But that did not mean that she could not dream of him, his scent much stronger than any other man she had ever come across. He smelled of sandalwood and pines and every time he was near, it made her belly flutter. She could even smell traces of him on his letters. Not that she had done that in a while.
Despite contemplating it for a while, she had not quite been able to bring herself to burn them. It had hurt her that he acted as if everything were normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that night. As if their relationship had not been changed forever. As if he had not just shattered the last shreds of hope she had had of ever finding love and happiness by dragging her reputation through the mud.
She had always known she could never have him. But he had made sure that nobody would ever have her either. At least not for the right reasons.
No, those letters were locked away in an airtight box, hiding his scent from her. It was too great of a risk. She could not let herself fall under his spell again. If she scented him, she would not be able to withstand the temptation to write back. She could not do that. Her heart could only take so much.
And then the universe had decided once more that she was a joke. That no matter what she did, she was meant to live a life of suffering. Of pain.
Her entire family were Betas. Generations of Featheringtons and also her mother’s lineage had never produced an Alpha or an Omega.
Until her.
Usually, debutantes presented before the beginning of their first social season and would then enter the marriage mart in their prime. For some inexplicable reason, however, her animal had decided to remain dormant.
As if it had not been embarrassing enough to be too chubby, too baby-faced and really not all that desirable, making her a target for bullies like Cressida Cowper, another high-ranking Omega, now, her body had failed her again, letting everyone know that something was wrong with her. That not only was she going to be a Beta, but a Beta at the very bottom of the social food chain at that.
But when she finally presented before the 1815 season, everything had changed. She was the first Featherington Omega in a very long time. And now, she and her mate were to inherit Featherington estate, making her a very desirable match, indeed.
As was tradition, the first ball of the season was hosted by none other than Lady Danbury. Their hostess had spared no expense, a marvellous display of lights and glamour welcoming the members of the Ton, old and new, to participate in the festivities. Mated couples eagerly watched the fresh faces find their footing in the marriage mart. A simple misstep could ruin entire families and people were desperate to see others fall from grace.
Lady Danbury was the Ton’s Elder, the Queen’s right hand so to speak. Whereas Queen Charlotte ruled over people, Danbury was in charge of their second half, the animal inside them. She oversaw the spiritual calendar, kept track of the cycles of the moon and conducted fertility rituals for bonded pairs amongst other sacred duties. As the expert on Alpha-Beta-Omega dynamics, she was often summoned for consultation when there were questions or concerns.
Danbury carried a commanding presence, her years of wisdom earning her the respect of all the Ton. Only the Queen herself had more power in London, the two of them proving how crucial of a role Omegas play in society.
Penelope felt out of place. She was completely overwhelmed, to say the least. All of a sudden, Alphas of low and high rank alike flocked around her, bringing her drinks, asking her for a dance, engaging her in conversation. She did not want any of it.
Over the past couple of weeks, she had come to terms with the fact that she would have to find a husband this season, a mate. It was dangerous for Omegas of low social standing and little protection not to find an Alpha in their first season after presenting. There were stories of Omegas being attacked out in the open, claimed by an Alpha against their will.
And of course, she longed to escape living under her mother’s thumb. Lady Featherington had become even more unbearable as of late. As an Omega, Penelope outranked Lady Featherington and she could tell that her mother was less than amused about it. However, at least it allowed Penelope to finally rid herself of those garish yellow gowns.
Gen had created some exceptionally flattering designs for her, no longer cutting off her bust, replacing her usual tacky colour palette with more mature tones, rich greens and blues that complimented her complexion far better. If she had to suffer navigating her way through an endless onslaught of suitors who did not care for her, only for the estate that would be bequeathed upon them after the wedding, at least she would look good doing so.
Wearing her forest green gown, she did her best to smile and nod, thanking them all for their attention. But truthfully, she was bored. She was also starting to feel a little ill, the stench of most Alphas so revolting, she had to pick a flower from the bouquet next to her and subtly hold it up to her nose before she embarrassed herself.
She had not realised that her sense of smell would be so heightened after presenting. Alphas and Omegas primarily found their mate via scent. The more pleasant, the higher the compatibility, ensuring a good bond producing strong, healthy litters. For Betas, their olfactory receptors remained the same even after presentation, so neither her mother, nor Prudence or Philippa had ever reported anything unusual.
But here she was, exposed to a mix of rotten eggs, foul apples and mouldy cheese, with the occasional neutral scent and maybe one or two that smelled of soap and fresh linen. One of the two was a man called Harry Dankworth, a handsome, yet rather gullible gentleman who seemed to use an awful lot of words in order to say nothing at all. However, he was nice enough and, in his presence, at least she did not run into the risk seeing her chocolate éclair from earlier again, so she accepted his hand for a dance.
About halfway through the routine, she spotted Eloise in the crowd, eyeing her curiously. To Penelope’s surprise, Eloise did not appear angry at all, but rather… sad… concerned… Did she miss her as much as Penelope missed Eloise? Was there a chance that they could mend their friendship after their ugly fight last season? Could she have at least one friend by her side when she ultimately had to marry a man she neither loved nor cared for?
Harry continued to sweep her around the dancefloor, making her lose sight of Eloise. Searching for her former friend, her heart skipped a beat when instead, her eyes landed on the last person she had wanted to see.
On the other side of the dancefloor, making his way through the crowd was Colin Bridgerton. He looked even more handsome than before. His hair had grown out a little, the soft curls styled back. His jawline was more defined, making him look more mature, more masculine. He also must have gained more muscle, his broad shoulders straining against his vest.
And then there were his eyes. She had always loved his eyes, the rich blue so gentle and kind, never judging her when she ended up rambling in front of him because his sheer presence always made her so nervous. However, now, his eyes were like a stormy sea, staring at her intently, growing darker by the second as his nostrils flared. Almost as if scenting her.
When the familiar notes of sandalwood and pine hit her, she barely managed to stay on her feet, her knees turning weak. It was only thanks to years of rigorous training that she managed to follow the steps of the dance without drawing attention.
Something was happening to her. Something she had never experienced before.
It started in her belly, a heat that burnt deep inside of her, expanding towards her chest, her breasts heavier than before, more sensitive, the bodice of her dress rubbing over the stiff peaks. But the fire also went lower, flames licking at the spot between her thighs. The muscles inside that area started convulsing, wildly contracting around nothing. Something was missing, but she could not put a finger on what it was.
Penelope frowned at him, and he did not break their eye contact, his lips pressed into a firm line. She saw that he had his hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. He looked angry, but he also looked… hungry? She had never seen him look at her like that. She had never seen anyone look at her like that. She had no idea what it all meant.
Her body seemed to understand, though.
All of a sudden, something wet and sticky ran down her thighs. Penelope looked at him in confusion, but Colin’s eyes only darkened further. His face had turned red and she could see the vein throbbing in his throat. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking, as if he was restraining himself.
More wetness ran down her thighs and she was glad that the music had finally stopped as she desperately needed to seek out the room with the chamber pot to dry up. But before she could go anywhere, Colin was in front of her, grabbing her arm, his gloved fingers burning right through her skin.
Up close, he was even more handsome and when a waft of his scent hit her, Penelope let out an audible gasp, more wetness trickling down her legs. At the sound, Colin’s dark eyes fell to her mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Transfixed by the movement, Penelope stared at him, her body starting to shiver, the cold air of the ballroom a stark contrast to the fever burning up inside of her.
She needed to get away from him. She needed to get away from them all. Her Omega was acting up like never before, making her brain go all fuzzy, the voices around her nothing but a dull sound. All she could hear was the voice inside of her, screaming at her.
“Alpha”
For years now, Colin had been haunted by a scent.
He had no idea where it was coming from, but it was everywhere. Taunting him.
It smelled of citrus and lemon grass, fresh and light, invading all his senses as he aimlessly searched for its source. He had thought he had spotted some traces here and there, all over Bridgerton manor. It was particularly prominent in Eloise’s room, although that did not make any sense as his sister certainly did not smell that pleasant on her own.
Two years ago, he had met Lady Crane, then Miss Thompson, and he had immediately felt drawn towards her, the beguiling scent surrounding her. Green that he was, he had thought he had finally found his mate. He knew that scent was one of the most important indicators of compatibility, so when she had told him she loved him, he had been over the moon, proposing to her right on the spot.
Looking back, there had been a moment of doubt when she had led him into Anthony’s study. As soon as he had closed the door, he had been lost. Something felt off. In the back of his mind, he had been wondering why the scent was less intense than it had been earlier. Should it not become more powerful in the small space they had found themselves in? It was only when he had visited Lady Crane that he had realised that she did not smell of citrus and lemon grass at all. Her scent carried more floral notes and while not repulsive per se, it certainly was a lot less alluring, too heavy for his liking.
To be frank, he had not expected much from Danbury’s ball. He was mainly looking forward to seeing Penelope again, having missed their easy conversation dearly. However, when he spotted her twirling around the dancefloor in another man’s arms, he had seen red. Fuming, Colin pushed his way through the onlookers, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Mine”
Something inside him growled, but he did not waste much time thinking about it as he pressed on until he found himself at the edge of the dancefloor. When her suitor – and he despised using that term, hated the way that man was holding her way too tightly, his hand far too low on her back, too close to the curvature of her behind. Nobody should be allowed to touch his Penelope like that.
He stared daggers at the man who looked like he would snap like a twig when hit by the smallest gush of wind, deeming him most unsuitable of a match. Penelope needed someone who could protect her. She needed someone who looked out for her. She needed-
When her scent hit him, things started clicking into place. Had he been of a clearer mind, he should have questioned right from the start why an Alpha was dancing with Penelope in the first place. And why it appeared that a whole bunch of Alphas were staring at her as if they wanted to jump right in once the current dance was over. Alphas did not go after Betas. Alphas only went after Omegas.
As soon as he detected the notes of citrus and lemon grass, much stronger than ever before, making his cock stir in his breeches, his eyes snapped to her. She was staring at him, so many emotions playing out on her beautiful face. She looked so confused and he wanted to run towards her and whisk her away, away from all these people ogling at her like she was no more than cattle at an auction, going to the highest bidder.
He had not heard from her in months, not even a mention of her in his family’s letters. When he had asked Eloise after returning to London, his sister had only brushed him off, a faraway look on her face. He was completely out of the loop, and it seemed he had missed out on a most significant part of news.
Finally, the music stopped, and he immediately rushed to her side, ignoring the sounds of protest from the man she had been dancing with. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him walk away, but he did not care. He placed a hand on her arm and took in a deep breath, barely suppressing a groan at her intoxicating scent.
“Penelope,” he growled, watching her quiver at his voice that had dropped by more than an octave, thick with desire. “Why do you smell so good?”
Penelope only stared at him, eyes wide. She was confused, but she was also helpless, looking at him for answers. When another wave of her mouth-watering scent hit him, he knew exactly what was happening. He knew exactly what was going on under that gown. He could hear her rubbing her thighs against each other, a squelching sound as she tried to relieve the ache between her legs.
He highly doubted she knew what was happening to her, poor thing. If only she knew what her body was preparing itself for. That the slick running down her thighs was supposed to lubricate her tight centre, allowing him to ease his engorged shaft inside of her when he claimed her as his.
Another growl rumbled through his chest, his cock painfully stiff as he pieced it all together.
Penelope was not a Beta like the rest of her family.
Penelope was an Omega.
“Mine”