UNMASKED

(Kael's POV)

My morning routine, as usual, was a carefully orchestrated dance of survival. First, the lukewarm water against my skin, a quick, efficient wash to remove the night’s accumulated anxieties. Then, the scent blockers. Gods, how I hated them. The chalky paste, smeared liberally across my pulse points, effectively suffocating the sweet, telltale scent of an Omega. Cinnamon, honey, and wildflowers – apparently, that’s what I reeked of. Ironic, considering I was supposed to reek of nothing.

Today felt different though. Last night, Alaric… last night had been a confusing mess of apologies, confessions, and lingering touches that sent shivers down my spine. He had begged for forgiveness, his strong hands gripping mine with a desperation I hadn't known he possessed. And now, the scent blockers felt like a betrayal, a shield I no longer needed – or perhaps, desperately still did.

I pulled out one of the outfits Aaron had gifted me during our escapade in the city. A soft, sky-blue tunic, embroidered with delicate silver thread. It was far too extravagant for a palace servant, bordering on the attire of a lower-ranked noble. But it was comfortable, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to feel… good.

A nervous tremor ran through me as I approached Alaric’s chambers. What would today bring? Would the fragile truce we’d formed last night crumble under the weight of reality? Would he revert to the cold, dismissive prince who had so readily rejected me?

I knocked softly.

"Enter," his voice, though still carrying an undercurrent of authority, sounded… softer. Less guarded.

He was seated at his desk, poring over documents, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked every inch the Alpha Prince, regal and untouchable. Until he looked up.

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “Kael… that’s… a new tunic.”

"It is," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. "Is there something wrong with it, your Highness?"

"Wrong? No. It's just… unexpected. You look… different." He cleared his throat, turning his gaze back to the papers. "Where did you even get that?"

"A friend bought it for me," I stated simply, deliberately omitting Aaron's name. I wanted to gauge his reaction.

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “A friend, you say? And this friend has such exquisite taste?” A sharp edge crept into his voice, the jealousy barely concealed.

“He does,” I replied, holding his gaze. “He also seems to appreciate things others don’t.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Alaric stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the stone floor. He closed the distance between us, his presence suddenly overwhelming. "Take it off."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Excuse me?"

"That tunic. Take it off. I don't want you wearing clothes bought by another man." His voice was low, possessive.

I crossed my arms, a defiant spark igniting within me. "I don't think so, your Highness. I like it."

"I'll buy you ten just like it. No, better. Silk, embroidered with gold. Anything you want. Just take that off." He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric.

"And if I don't want silk and gold? What if I like this one just fine?" I challenged, tilting my chin up. The defiance felt good, intoxicating, after years of suppressing my true self.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "Damn it, Kael. You're impossible." He paused, his expression softening slightly. “Look, I… I don’t want you flaunting gifts from other men in front of me. It’s… unsettling.”

"Unsettling?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now? Unsettling?"

He ignored my sarcasm. "How about this? I'll personally take you to the finest tailor in the city. You can choose any fabric, any design you desire. We can spend the entire day together. Just… please, get out of that tunic."

The thought of spending an entire day with Alaric, away from the prying eyes of the court, was incredibly tempting. But I couldn't back down now. "As tempting as that sounds, your Highness, I think I'll stick with this one for today."

His gaze intensified, a silent battle raging between us. Finally, he relented, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Fine. But you're going to regret this."

He turned and walked toward the washroom in his chamber. "Come here," he said, without turning back.

I followed him slowly. When I was in the washroom, he turned to me, pointing at the sink. "The scent blocker… Wash it off."

My breath hitched. Wash it off? The scent blocker? The words slammed into me with the force of a physical blow. My chest tightened, and a wave of panic washed over me.

“Your Highness, I… I don’t understand.” My voice trembled, betraying my carefully constructed facade of composure.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "The scent blocker, Kael. Wash it off. I want to smell you. The real you."

My mind raced, replaying the conversation we had the night Prince Casian threw hot water on me and the water washed off my scent blocker. Alaric's reaction that day was terrible, he was disgusted. He even told me: "Get out of my sight. And never, ever, let me smell that scent near me again."

A cold dread gripped me. What if he hated it again? What if last night had been a fleeting moment of weakness, a temporary lapse in his judgment?

"I can't, your Highness," I whispered, shaking my head. "You know I can't."

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing my cheekbones. "Kael, look at me. I know it's hard. I know I hurt you. But I swear, I won't reject you again. I was a fool, blinded by duty and expectations. But now… now I see things differently."

His words were like a salve to my weary heart… my wounded soul, but the fear remained, a deep-seated instinct honed by years of hiding. "What if someone smells me? What if they find out? You know what they'll do to me, to my mother." What if you don't like it? I had wanted to add, but he swore he wouldn't reject me and I should believe him.

"No one will find out," he promised, his voice firm. "I won't let them. I'll protect you. Just… trust me. Please."

Trust him. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. But looking into his eyes, seeing the genuine remorse and longing reflected there, I knew I had to try.

With trembling hands, I reached for the washcloth. I wet it with water, the coldness a stark contrast to the heat that was building within me. Slowly, hesitantly, I began to wipe away the scent blocker, the chalky paste dissolving under the water.

Each swipe felt like a step further into the unknown, a surrender of the carefully constructed identity I had clung to for so long. My heart pounded in my ears, a deafening drumbeat that threatened to drown out everything else.

Finally, it was gone. My skin tingled, exposed and vulnerable. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for his reaction.

A moment of silence stretched between us, thick with anticipation. Then, I felt his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to face him.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. His eyes darkened, a primal intensity taking hold.

"Cinnamon, honey, and wildflowers," he murmured, his voice husky. "Gods, Kael. It's even more intoxicating than I remember."

He leaned closer, burying his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. A shiver ran down my spine, a mixture of fear and intense pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against my skin. "I'm so sorry for ever rejecting this. For ever making you hide."

His words were like a physical caress, melting away the last vestiges of my resistance. I leaned into him, my arms wrapping around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world of shifting sands.

"It's alright," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's alright now."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, his expression a mixture of awe and possessiveness. "No, it's not alright. Not yet. But it will be. I promise you, Kael. I'll make it alright."

The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable, a promise of protection and acceptance that I had only dared to dream of.

"Don't you have work to do?" I asked haltingly. "The meetings, the reports…"

He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "They can wait. Nothing is more important than this. Than you."

He took my hand, leading me out of the washroom and straight into his room? "You're staying here," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "With me. No more hiding. No more pretending… at least for today."

"But…"

He silenced me with a look. "No buts, Kael. I need you close. And I can't risk anyone catching your scent."

He led me to a comfortable couch near the fireplace, settling down beside me. "Tell me about your outings with Aaron," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "Tell me everything."

The jealousy was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was tempered with a genuine desire to understand, to connect.

And as I recounted our city adventure, the sights, the sounds, the laughter, I felt a sense of lightness I hadn't experienced in years. I was still scared, still uncertain of the future. But for the first time, I allowed myself to hope. To believe that maybe, just maybe, things could actually be alright.