(V1)

The grand feast in the golden halls of Pharaoh Shakir’s palace brimmed with opulence. Flickering torches cast shimmering patterns across the gilded walls, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and roasted delicacies. The gathered nobles and warriors reveled in victory, their laughter and conversation melding into a constant hum.

From his elevated throne, Shakir observed with his usual detachment. His cold, piercing gaze scanned the crowd, but nothing stirred his interest. The feast, like so many others, was an exercise in indulgence that failed to excite him.

Then the music began.

Soft at first, the rhythm of drums and the haunting melody of a flute captured the room. Conversations faded as every eye turned to the center of the hall. You emerged, the flowing silk of your garments catching the light with each graceful step. Your movements were hypnotic, each spin and sway more fluid than the last.

Shakir sat straighter, his keen eyes narrowing as he focused on you. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something different about this dancer. Something beyond your beauty, beyond the precision of your art. His nose flared subtly, the faintest trace of a scent reaching him through the layers of perfume and incense.

A shiver ran down his spine. That scent—soft yet alluring, delicate yet undeniable—was unmistakably Omega.

The crowd roared with applause as you twirled, utterly unaware of the Alpha’s gaze fixed on you. Shakir’s jaw tightened, his fists curling against the arms of his throne. This was no ordinary performer. Your presence, your scent, was an uninvited temptation, a dangerous distraction he hadn’t anticipated.

When the music slowed, and you dipped into a bow, Shakir’s eyes remained locked on you. He leaned toward his steward and spoke in a low, commanding voice. “Bring her to me after the feast.”