Jannah stood pressed against the cold oak of the wardrobe, her chest heaving, her eyes locked onto the massive, throbbing erection that continued to pulse with a life of its own. It was a sight that defied all logic. For the last five years, Dorrent Grefo had been subjected to the most expensive, highly advanced medical treatments from the most beautiful, powerful omega and beta physicians in the upper echelons of the city. He had laid naked before elite beauties, untouched by desire, his body numb and unresponsive to their alluring charms.

And yet, here he was, fully rigid, veins pulsing along the heavy length of his member, all because of the fumbling, trembling hands of the low-born omega he had just insulted.

Dorrent’s eyes shifted from the ceiling down to his own hardened state, and then, slowly, his intense gaze traveled up to Jannah’s terrified face. The sheer confusion warring with the burning, agonizing need in his eyes was palpable. The fire in his lower abdomen was driving him completely insane; it was a hot, clawing itch that he had forgotten how to feel. His blood roared in his ears, and despite the lingering hatred he felt for the circumstances, a sudden, unfamiliar heat surged through his veins, demanding immediate release.

Dorrent cleared his throat, the sound rough and grating in the heavy atmosphere.

"Come here," he commanded, though the sharp, vicious bite that had characterized his earlier threats was entirely gone. His voice had dropped an octave, deepening into a low, husky rumble that coiled around Jannah’s senses like a thick, inescapable mist. "Continue with the treatment."

Jannah’s breath hitched. Her hands, still pressed flat against the wood of the wardrobe for support, felt cold. "I—I can’t. You said—"

"I don’t care what I said," Dorrent interrupted, his voice dropping into a register so intimate and dark it sent a shiver straight down her spine. The authoritative CEO who loathed the ground she walked on had vanished, replaced by a desperate, possessive alpha driven to the edge by his own biology. "A physician does not abandon their patient mid-treatment, Jannah. Especially when the patient requires... immediate attention."

His eyes darkened, boring into hers with a possessive heat that left her feeling stripped bare. The massive cock between his thighs twitched, the heavy head glistening under the dim bedside lamp. He was burning up. The years of cold, barren cycles were washing away in a tide of pure, unadulterated lust.

But before Jannah could formulate a single word of refusal, before she could gather the courage to step back toward the bed or run from the room, the door swung open with a loud, resounding click.

The authoritative thud of footsteps echoed on the Persian rug. Guron Grefo, the patriarch of the Grefo family and Dorrent’s father, stepped into the dimly lit master suite.

Guron was an imposing alpha whose silver-streaked hair did nothing to diminish his sharp, calculating presence. He had come to check on his son’s progress, fully expecting another report of failure, another session where Dorrent had driven away a physician in a fit of rage. But as his sharp gaze swept across the room—taking in the naked Alpha bound to the bed, the flushed, terrified omega trembling in the corner, and the unmistakable, towering ridge of Dorrent’s erection—Guron stopped dead in his tracks.

A wide, ecstatic grin spread across the older alpha’s face. His eyes flared with a triumphant, golden light, and without a second thought, Guron let out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. He began to clap his hands together, a slow, rhythmic sound that cut through the silence like a series of gunshots.

"Magnificent," Guron chuckled, his voice dripping with triumphant satisfaction. "Look at this. After all these years of searching, after all those pathetic, high-bred omega physicians who couldn’t even rouse a flicker of warmth in you... the savior has finally appeared."

Guron’s eyes slowly turned to Jannah, taking in her small, delicate frame, her wild hair, and the distinct scent of a true omega wrapped in the pheromones of his son. He stepped closer to the bed, ignoring the tense, furious glare Dorrent shot his way.

"Well, well, well," Guron purred, his tone dripping with an unsettling, manipulative cheerfulness. "The little herbalist from the slums has done what the best medical minds in Gammar Technology Company could not. She’s given my son his fire back."

Jannah felt her knees give out slightly. She gripped the edge of the wardrobe tighter, her omega instincts screaming at the presence of the older, dominant alpha in the room.

Guron turned fully to face her, waving a dismissive hand toward the bed. "Don’t just stand there, child. You heard him. He needs treatment, and he needs it now. Come over here and help him release. Do a hand job for the alpha. Show him what you can do."

The command was casual, delivered as if Jannah were a servant called to perform a simple, mundane task. Jannah’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind rebelled at the thought of touching the man who had murdered her parents, but her vocal cords were locked in pure terror as Guron began to step closer to the bed, rolling up his sleeves.

"Father, no," Dorrent snarled, the confusion in his eyes instantly replaced by a flash of pure, unadulterated rage. His muscles strained against the leather restraints, the veins in his neck bulging as his alpha dominance flared to life. "Stay back."

"Don’t be a fool, Dorrent," Guron scoffed, taking another step toward the mattress, his hands reaching out as if to take control of the situation himself. "Your body has been dormant for far too long. If this little omega is too timid to help you relieve the pressure, I will gladly assist in teaching you how to—"

"I said stay the hell away from me!" Dorrent roared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling with such explosive force that Guron stopped in his tracks.

Dorrent’s gaze snapped from his father to the small, shivering figure of Jannah huddled in the corner. The thought of his father touching him, of another alpha’s hands being responsible for the release his body craved, sent an irrational wave of fury crashing through him. His cock throbbed painfully, burning for the unique, earthy scent of the omega who had awakened him.

He didn’t want his father’s interference. He wanted the low-born girl who had brought him to the edge.

Dorrent strained against the leather, his jaw clenching so hard it looked as if the bone might crack. He glared at Guron, every line of his magnificent, muscular chest tensed and ready for a fight despite his confinement.

"I won’t have your hands on me," Dorrent shouted, his voice ringing out sharp, desperate, and fiercely protective, "No, she’ll do it!"