26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd6YYd2sjzU
26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ99iXEQ01Tk
Elliot woke to the sound of his own heartbeat. It pounded so loudly it seemed to be trying to escape his chest. Grey dawn light seeped through cracks in the curtains, and the room smelled of his own scent: bitter chocolate mixed with the acrid smoke of anxiety.
Darcy's voice still echoed in his head, so vivid, so real, as though the alpha stood beside the bed whispering directly in his ear. Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the vision, but it wouldn't leave. He could still feel the warmth of Darcy's fingers on his waist, the dense aroma of whiskey with notes of oak barrel and damp earth after rain—a scent that promised something primal and inevitable.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
What have I done?
Yesterday, during the dance, when he'd touched Darcy, he hadn't simply read the alpha's emotions. He'd felt them. Desire so strong and hungry it burned. Fear. Desperation. And something else tender and fragile, hiding beneath all those layers of pride and control.
Elliot sat up in bed, clutching his head in his hands. His scent became even sharper, almost suffocating.
He didn't want to know this. Didn't want to understand that behind Fitzwilliam Darcy's cold mask hid a man battling himself. Who wanted but wouldn't allow himself to have.
Because that changed everything.
A knock at the door made him flinch.
"Ellie?" James's voice was quiet, almost frightened. "Are you awake?"
"Come in."
The door opened and James slipped inside, closing it behind him. He was still in his pajamas, hair disheveled, face pale. His scent of white acacia and warm milk was saturated with such bitter pain that Elliot felt physical discomfort.
"What happened?" He patted the edge of the bed, and James silently sat beside him.
His brother was silent for a long time, staring at the floor. Then he held out his phone.
"I got a message from... Miss Bingley. Caroline. An hour ago."
Elliot took the phone and read the message. With each word his heart sank lower.
From: Caroline Bingley
‘Dear Mr. Bennet,
I write to you from Netherfield, from which my brother, Mr. Darcy, and I depart this morning for London. Charles has urgent business requiring his immediate presence in the capital, and I confess I am very glad of this decision. Country life, charming though it may be, is not for people such as ourselves.
Charles asked me to convey his thanks for the pleasant time spent in your company. He values your society highly and hopes you will remain good acquaintances.
Respectfully, Caroline Bingley'
'P.S. Between us, I am certain that a stay in London will do Charles good. There are so many worthy omegas here from good families. I have already introduced him to several charming candidates.’
Elliot slowly lowered the phone. Anger boiled in his chest, mixing with pain for his brother.
"That..." He bit his tongue, unable to find words sharp enough that wouldn't hurt James.
"She's right," James said quietly.
"What?!"
"We're not suitable for them," James's voice was even, but Elliot heard how it trembled inside. "Mr. Bingley is rich, successful, from a good family. And I'm... I'm from a ruined estate, with a hysterical mother and brothers who cause scenes at balls. Of course his sister wants better for him."
"Jamie, don't you dare," Elliot grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look up. "Don't you dare let her convince you that you're not good enough."
"But I saw his face," James whispered, and his eyes filled with tears. "Yesterday. After Mother made that scene. He looked at me as though... as though he'd just realized what family he was getting involved with. And this morning they left. Without a single word to me personally."
Elliot pulled his brother close, embracing him. James trembled, his scent so acrid with suffering it made him want to cry.
"If he let his sister talk him out of it," Elliot said slowly, "then he doesn't deserve you. Do you hear me? He doesn't deserve you."
"But I... I thought there was something between us," James's voice broke. "He looked at me as though I... as though I mattered. As though I was important."
"You are important. You do matter." Elliot held his brother tighter. "Just not to him."
They sat that way for a long time, until the trembling in James's body subsided, until his breathing evened out. The first rays of sun broke through the curtains, painting the room in warm gold that contrasted with the cold in their hearts.
"Maybe I should have agreed with Mother," James suddenly said. "Enhanced my pheromones. Been more... compliant. Talked less about work and workshops."
"No," Elliot cut him off sharply. "Jamie, if he wanted something different from you, that's his problem, not yours. You shouldn't have to change yourself to earn someone's love."
Like I do? a traitorous thought flickered. Who's spent my whole life hiding my gift, my true nature, because I'm afraid no one will accept me as I am?
Elliot pushed the thought away.
"Let's go have breakfast," he stood, pulling James with him. "And not a word to Mother, all right? She'll only throw a fit."
James nodded weakly.
***
Breakfast was tense.
Mrs. Bennet bustled around the table, her cheap fruity perfume with notes of sour grape mixing with the smell of bacon and coffee, creating a suffocating blend. She clearly didn't know about Bingley's departure or didn't want to know and continued building castles in the air.
"What a wonderful evening!" she chirped, serving scrambled eggs to Kit, who was sleepily poking at his phone. Around him drifted the scent of ozone and mint. "Everyone was saying how wonderful James looked! And how Mr. Bingley was watching you, dear! I'm certain a proposal isn't far off!"
James went even paler, if that was possible. His scent became almost rancid.
Elliot gripped his fork so hard his knuckles whitened.
"Mother, maybe we shouldn't..."
"And Mr. Darcy!" She wasn't listening. "He danced with you, Elliot! With you! I thought I'd have a heart attack from happiness! He dances so rarely! Everyone says he's incredibly selective! If he chose you..."
"He didn't choose me," Elliot cut her off sharply. "It was just a dance. Out of politeness."
"Politeness?" Mrs. Bennet threw up her hands. "Dear, Mr. Darcy does nothing out of politeness! If he asked you to dance, it means he's interested!"
Darcy's voice echoed in his head again, and Elliot felt himself flush. His scent flared chocolate mixing with something warm, almost sweet before he could get himself under control.
Mrs. Bennet froze, sniffing the air.
"Elliot?" Her eyes widened. "Dear, do you... do you have feelings for him?"
"No!" Too quickly, too sharply. "I don't feel anything. It's just..."
"Oh my God," she pressed her hands to her chest, and her fruity aroma exploded with jubilation. "Oh my God! My son and Mr. Darcy! This is... this is even better than I could have dreamed! He's so wealthy! His estate Pemberley is one of the largest in the country! And his connections! If you marry him, we'll all..."
"Mother, stop!" Elliot jumped up from the table. His scent became acrid, almost aggressive. "Nothing is going to happen! Darcy despises me! He considers our family unworthy! It was one dance, and it meant nothing!"
"But I saw how he looked at you..."
"You saw what you wanted to see!"
Silence fell over the table. Everyone stared at Elliot Mother with an offended face, James with sympathy, Michael with curiosity (his scent of dry wormwood intensifying with interest), Kit and Lloyd with poorly concealed interest. The smell of strawberry candy and paint from Lloyd mixed with Kit's ozone.
Even Father looked up from his tablet, his barely perceptible scent of Earl Grey turning slightly more sour.
"Sorry," Elliot muttered. "I need to... I need to work."
He turned and left the dining room, feeling his mother's gaze on him, full of hope and calculations he couldn't, wouldn't fulfill.
He'd barely reached the stairs when he heard a voice behind him:
"Dear cousin Elliot! Wait!"
Elliot froze, gripping the banister. The smell of cheap lotion, wilting lilac, and dust enveloped him, almost suffocating in its insistence.
William Collins was climbing the steps, his face shining with determination and something like righteous enthusiasm.
"I must speak with you. In private. It's very important."
"Cousin, I really am busy..."
"This won't take long," William was already beside him, his hand landing on Elliot's elbow. "Please. Just a few minutes."
Elliot looked at him at his soft, self-satisfied face, at the gleam in his eyes that said he wouldn't accept refusal. Exhaustion settled like a heavy weight.
"Fine. Five minutes."
They went into a small sitting room on the second floor one rarely used, smelling of dust and old furniture. William closed the door and turned to Elliot with the air of a man preparing to deliver a momentous speech.
"Dear Elliot," he began, and his scent of wilting lilac became even thicker, mixing with something sticky and false. "As you know, I came here not only to visit my dear uncle and his family. I had a... particular purpose."
Oh no, Elliot thought, feeling his stomach clench.
"You see," William took a step closer, and Elliot instinctively stepped back, "I am at that age when an alpha must think about continuing his line. About creating a family. And my patroness, the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has repeatedly advised me to find a suitable omega from a good family."
An icy spike ran down Elliot's spine.
De Bourgh. That name had come up before Annabella de Bourgh, Darcy's fiancée. Lady Catherine... from William's stories, his patroness. Influential, wealthy, with enormous connections in high society.
"And after much deliberation," William continued, not noticing Elliot's reaction, "I have decided that you would be the ideal choice."
"Cousin..."
"Hear me out!" He raised his hand. "I know my proposal may seem sudden. But think of the advantages! After your father's death may the Lord extend his years!—Longbourn estate will pass to me. Your mother and brothers will be without shelter. But if you become my spouse, they can remain here. Isn't that noble of me?"
Elliot stared at him, not believing his ears. Anger, slow and scorching, began rising from the depths of his chest. His scent became sharp, almost poisonous chocolate turned to scorched bitterness, smoke became acrid, even the smell of old books twisted into something musty.
"You're proposing that I... marry you... out of charity?" Elliot said slowly.
"Not charity!" William looked almost offended. "Practicality! You see, Elliot, I harbor no illusions. You are not an ideal omega. Your scent is strange, your behavior often inappropriate, and forgive my bluntness your prospects for a good match are quite dim. But I am prepared to accept you as you are. I will help you become better, teach you humility and..."
He paused, and something cunning flickered in his eyes.
"Moreover, Lady Catherine specifically recommended I consider you. She said that such an... unusual omega as yourself needs the firm hand of an alpha. Proper guidance."
Cold gripped his entire body.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She had specifically recommended William marry him?
They know, an icy thought pierced his mind. They know about my gift. Or they suspect.
"Stop."
The word came out quietly, but with such force that William broke off mid-sentence.
Elliot took a step forward, and his scent flared like a flame furious and defensive, completely unsuitable for a "submissive" omega.
"You want me to thank you?" His voice trembled with restrained fury. "For condescending to take me as your husband? For being willing to tolerate my deficiencies?"
"Elliot, I didn't mean..."
"You meant exactly that!" Elliot didn't let him finish. "You came here, to my house, and you're treating me like merchandise at a clearance sale! Defective merchandise that no one wants to buy at full price! And you expect me to fall on my knees before you in gratitude?"
William's wilting lilac flared with irritation mixed with confusion.
"I'm offering you security! A roof over your head! A position in society!"
"You're offering me a cage!" Elliot shouted. "A life with someone who considers me defective! Who wants to fix me, change me, make me into someone else! I'd rather live on the street than agree to this!"
"You don't understand your position..."
"I understand perfectly! And I refuse. Categorically. Definitively. Forever." Elliot walked to the door and flung it open. "And now, cousin, I ask you to leave this room. And never speak to me on this subject again."
William's face turned crimson. His scent became almost suffocating: lilac mixing with sweat and humiliation.
"You'll regret this," he hissed. "When you find yourself without means, without a home, without a future, you'll remember this day and regret it! And Lady Catherine will learn of your insolence! She will not approve of such behavior!"
"Tell Lady Catherine I have no need of her approval," Elliot replied coldly, though inside everything clenched with fear. "Or yours."
William walked past him, emanating waves of wounded dignity and malice. Elliot slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, feeling his knees tremble.
He had just refused the only alpha who could ensure his family's security.
He had just put his pride above the welfare of his mother and brothers.
And perhaps he had just attracted the attention of people best avoided.
And most terrifying of all he didn't regret the refusal for a single second.
***
By lunch the news had spread through the house: William Collins was leaving. Immediately. His things were already packed, the rental car waiting at the entrance.
Mrs. Bennet rushed through the house in hysterics, her cloying aroma mixing with the smell of sour grape and despair.
"What have you done?!" she screamed, chasing Elliot down the hallway. "He proposed to you! The only chance to save this family! And you refused! How could you?!"
"I don't love him," Elliot replied wearily.
"Love?!" She laughed, and in that laughter was something hysterical and frightening. "Who needs love when we need a roof over our heads?! When your father dies, we'll all be on the street! All of us! And it will be your fault!"
"Mother, please..."
"You're selfish!" Tears streamed down her face. "You think only of yourself! Of your pride! What about us? What about your brothers?!"
"Enough."
Mr. Bennet's voice was quiet, but everyone froze. He stood in the doorway of his study, his face serious. The scent of Earl Grey had gone cold, almost icy.
"Elliot had the right to refuse," he said. "No one should marry someone they don't respect."
"But..."
"No one," he repeated firmly. "We'll find another way. Somehow."
Mrs. Bennet sobbed and ran to her room. The sound of the slamming door echoed through the house.
Father looked at Elliot, and in his eyes was understanding.
"You did the right thing," he said quietly. "Even if it was difficult."
Elliot didn't answer. He wasn't sure he'd done the right thing. He was sure of only one thing: he couldn't have lived with himself if he'd agreed.
***
The next two days passed in tense silence. Mrs. Bennet locked herself in her room, refusing to speak to Elliot. James tried to maintain normalcy, but his scent was still saturated with the bitter pain of disappointment. The younger brothers instinctively sensed the tension and tried to stay out of sight.
Elliot immersed himself in work, digitizing ancient documents at his desk with manic focus. His graphics tablet and computer became a refuge the only place where he didn't have to think about Darcy, or Collins, or the chaos his refusal had brought into the family.
But even working with century-old letters from strangers couldn't silence the voices in his head.
You're the most right thing I've ever...
Such an unusual omega needs proper guidance.
You're selfish.
Elliot closed his eyes and put down his stylus.
Something was coming. He felt it in every cell. Something large and inevitable that would change everything.
And he didn't know if he was ready for it.
26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5kukDdRTZZ
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