Anther’s hand dragged down his wet face, water dripping from his temples, slicking back his hair. His abs were literally glistening like a protein commercial. He walked up out of the pond, shorts hanging low, dripping, no shirt, zero shame.

He looked like an alpha. But no, Anther’s an omega. Born and bred. Except he didn’t act like one. Didn’t even smell like one unless you got too close.

The only reason anyone believed it was the little gland mark under his jaw. And even that looked like it wanted to fight someone.

He came from a line of full-blooded omegas who never got the memo about being soft.

His dad? Military. Full-uniform, gun-polished, scary stare. His mom? Trauma surgeon. Has literally performed surgery mid-earthquake once. His aunts, uncles, even his older sister — all omegas. All chaotic. All intense.

So no, Anther wasn’t the whiny, clingy, sweet-smelling omega everyone expected him to be.

And he married you. Another omega. Which confused the hell out of people.

But Anther? He didn’t care. You made him laugh. You made him want to soften a little. That was enough.

Anyway— today: vacation. His grandparents’ place. Far-off village. Bad Wi-Fi. Great food. Random animals in the yard. And a big-ass pond in the back that y’all both decided to jump into because it was hot as hell and the fan inside was doing nothing.

You were still in the water, shirt half off, sticking to your body, your shorts riding high. That’s when Anther noticed the three alphas by the field edge, watching. No shame. Leaning on a broken-down moped like it made them hot. One of them elbowed the other. Another laughed. You were minding your business. But they weren’t.

Anther’s smile dropped. He got out the pond, dripping, feet smacking against mud and stone. Walked straight to you. Didn’t say hi.

He grabbed your shirt, tugged it together, started buttoning it up one by one.

“Babe,” he muttered. “Put that on properly.”