Étienne was a brute, but what a brute! Towering, robust, and broad-shouldered, with thick, ash-brown hair cascading down his back in a thinning strip along his spine. The young and fiery alpha, with his striking dark eyes, straight nose, and slightly full lips playing a charming half-smile, unsurprisingly stirred fervent and zealous interest among all omegas. It was no wonder that such a young and passionate alpha, who was also a near blood relative of the current royal dynasty, incited an excessive and fanatical interest among all the omegas. Naturally, the betas were also captivated by such a potential suitor, and even the less prominent alphas... And why, you ask? Because it's time for Mr. Étienne Elzévil Rutias to get married. He hailed from an illustrious lineage, partook in tea ceremonies with the reigning monarch, owned several mansions, and managed a lucrative mining enterprise—in essence, he was exceedingly wealthy. Who could possibly decline such a suitor? Exactly, no one. Initially, Etienne made the most of this, skillfully taking advantage of each new attractive omega, ensconcing himself between their invitingly quivering buttocks.

Mr. Rutias found steadfast companions only in condoms, which he actively utilized almost daily. His insatiability was entirely understandable to him—for upon reaching the age of twenty-one, as was customary for every male of the Rutias family, whose lineage traced back to the earliest sentient wolves, he would choose an omega to marry and spend the rest of his life with. Infidelity within the Rutias family was not just improbable...it was taboo. Throughout the illustrious history of the clan, no alpha and omega bound by marriage had ever been caught in such a transgression, and thus Etienne harbored no doubts about his future infallibility, accepting his destiny as a matter of course. Yet, it seemed that twenty-one years were still a considerable distance away, and one could indulge to their heart's content.

Time has slipped by so imperceptibly that Etienne finds himself seated in his office, studying yet another photograph of omega with a languid gaze and pouting lips, feeling a profound sense of melancholy. It was during this activity that Dasse and Runour, two diligent young men entrusted with the protection of the Rutias family's younger generation, discovered him. Their duties under the term "protection" encompassed a wide array of actions: from reporting a knife-wielding, infatuated fanatic lurking in the passageways of Etienne's private mansion to the police, to rescuing his golden retriever from the clutches of a thistle patch. Or deal with the omega conman, who absurdly waved a pregnancy test like a net.

Both young men hailed from a once-noble family and were cousins to each other. Runour, well-built, tall, with a rather attractive square face and dark skin, exuded the robust scent of an alpha and was responsible for physical strength within the household. Dasse, half a head shorter than his cousin, specialized more in "the enemy's covert approaches": surveillance, monitoring security cameras, analysis, and diplomatically responding to delicate situations. If he faltered, Runour swiftly resolved matters with his powerful fist.

— Well, have you chosen it? — chuckled Runour, sauntering across the plush burgundy carpet and flopping into a chair opposite the desk where a sour-faced, handsome alpha sat. — Choose carefully, you're stuck with this beauty until the day you die.

— What the hell? — Etienne responded scathingly, shifting his phlegmatic gaze to his friend's face. — Who protects like that? You might as well throw yourself at the embrasure before this onslaught of photo cards! I'm sick of these same glossy faces!

— That's exactly how I'm protecting! — the guy laughed. — From a distance. Just point your finger at someone and I'll beat them so that dad won't know. And no marriage will be necessary! It's a million-dollar idea!

Etienne smirked wryly. Indeed, a "million-dollar" idea. A million-dollar drain on his nerves. For a week now, his grandfather had been bringing a parade of omega suitors to home, each more beautiful and wealthier than the last—"for the groom's joy." It wasn't that they were truly awful—it's just that his alpha instincts clearly told him they were not the one. The scents, so varied—herbal, floral, bitter, sweet—none stirred his heart. Nothing even flickered within him, let alone the immediate stirring and arousal that should occur at the scent of the one with whom he would spend all his nights. Perhaps he wouldn't have even thought about it (after all, he hadn't placed such immense importance on scents before: pleasant was good, mixed with innocence was even better) if it hadn't been for one episode that happened to him a month ago.

On that day, when Father and Papa gathered the entire high society and announced the impending marriage of their second son, Etienne pondered lazily, sipping his whiskey, musing over who this second son might be. Eventually, piecing together the simple facts, he arrived at a staggering conclusion and, it seemed, drained nearly half a crate of the remarkable beverage, toasting either his joy or his sorrow. Etienne's memory of the events was somewhat hazy. There was a club, dancing with two leggy omegas, drinking, someone's laughter, more drinking, unrestrained merriment, and an abundance of alcohol... and a scent. The scent of an omega that, like a vivid flash, overwhelmed the very essence of the alpha. Etienne couldn't quite compare it to anything. It wasn't cloyingly sweet or unpleasantly sticky. No, it was perfect. Just as it should be. Exactly the kind of scent he would want to experience on his bed, on the sofa, on the table, in the shower... and on his own member. And to claim the bearer of this intoxicating fragrance as his own, exclusively his.