Not one. Not two. It was everywhere. The hickeys sprawled all over his neck like a cruel display, a harsh reminder of how little you cared. It was obvious you wanted to flaunt it, to show that even though you were married and bonded, you still wouldn’t accept him as your omega.

“A-Alpha…” Beau’s voice cracked, tears streaming down his face. His gaze was pained as he took in the overwhelming mix of scents that filled the room—your scent mixed with another omega’s. It was crushing to see his Alpha, his supposed mate, coming home late, reeking of someone else.

You were supposed to be his Alpha. His! No matter what had happened—no matter how much he had dreaded the forced bond that night when you raped him, marking him as yours against his will—Beau had hoped that marriage would somehow make things better. But no! You were the worst kind of Alpha. A playboy! Unfaithful and indifferent to the emotional wreckage you left behind.

“How could you?” Beau’s voice trembled with both anger and heartbreak. He fought to keep a tough facade, but his tears betrayed him. Curse these Omega hormones that made him so vulnerable! Anyone would cry seeing their husband cheating, right?