Nokorae

They say male omegas don’t exist. They say fated mates are nothing but old stories told to pups who can’t sleep. They say the world is simple: an omega belongs to an alpha, the bite seals it, the bond forms, and that’s the end of it. That’s what I was taught too. I’ve lived my whole life behind locked doors and guarded gates, hidden away because I’m something rare—something dangerous. A male omega. My father calls it a blessing. The pack calls it a miracle. But lately, I’ve started to understand what it really means. It means I’m valuable. Valuable enough to trade. The rogues have been circling our borders for months. Supplies are thinner. Patrols are doubled. And now my father has made his decision: I will be promised to the strongest alpha willing to offer us protection. My future reduced to negotiations and territory lines. I was prepared to endure it. Omegas don’t get choices. Especially not rare ones. Then everything changed. I felt it before I understood it—a tug beneath my ribs, deep and ancient, like something inside me had woken up after centuries of sleep. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t heat. It was recognition. My mate. Impossible. Unheard of. But real. And he isn’t an alpha. He’s a beta. Steady. Grounded. A man who grew up believing creatures like me were bedtime myths. A man who shouldn’t feel the pull the way I do. A man whose bite, according to every law our kind lives by, shouldn’t mean anything at all. But when he touched me, my wolf answered. When he marked me, the bond formed. Now I stand between duty and destiny. My father has already made promises to alphas who see me as a prize to win. The pack whispers that something is wrong, unnatural. Betas and omegas don’t complete bonds. They don’t rewrite centuries of tradition. They say it can’t happen. But my wolf doesn’t care about what they say. And neither does my mate.