The Vampire's Last Omega

Nesting: Part 2

Kieran had returned from the tedious trip to Charleston, South Carolina. There'd been a meeting there with delegates from what used to be the European Union, and his damned stepfather of a king suddenly sprouted on him that he would represent Avania.

"At least make yourself useful," was what Abaddon had said. Bastard.

Honestly, he paid little attention to it after presenting his speech about future laws regarding humans. He was antsy throughout the whole international convention. The only thing on his mind was how he'd left Teru on such a negative note.

Kieran hadn't meant to lose his temper when he broke the glass; just hearing the name "bloodsucker" set off a long-forgotten trigger with Van Helsing, who'd given him that nickname throughout the decades of endless torture. He didn't particularly enjoy recalling those times, and Teru, with hatred in his eyes, had done a splendid job of reminding him.

Knowing the feeding schedule, he waited for the maid to accompany her to his floor.

"I'm afraid he hasn't eaten in days, Prince," she reported.

It was aggravating! Weren't they past this? Did he want to be fed by him? That was perfectly fine with Kieran, but as a human who hated vampires, Teru probably didn't want to be hand-fed by one. Although he couldn't detect Teru's pride, that didn't mean he didn't have any somewhere in that weak body. Everyone had pride in them, no matter how innocent.

Kieran carried the omega's grungy bag with him. He had forgotten about it in the car, given to him by the auction house. He was going to use it as leverage to make him eat—"no eating, no stuff," was what he would say. Teru would be resentful, but it was for his own good. He didn't pay a quarter of his savings just so the stubborn boy could wither away.

Once they entered his two-story penthouse, Kieran was on edge as the maid dug through her pocket for the bedroom key. The atmosphere was tense. He would stay in the living room, figuring that Teru would rather not see him. Who would want to welcome home the nastiest prince, anyway? No one had ever done that in the past, and he doubted it would happen in the foreseeable future.

If Teru didn't eat this meal, then Kieran would interfere. In the meantime, he brewed coffee for himself. Trying different varieties of bitterness was a hobby of his. It kept him sane while in a continuous blood-deprived state.

He looked at the bag in his hands, wondering what was inside it.

"Sir! Come in here quickly! There's blood!" the beta woman yelled.

He slammed down his cup haphazardly, splashing the hot drink on the counter. He pushed her aside, almost making her fall.

Sour pheromones saturated the space. Drops of red spotted the floor. Kieran's heart pounded against his chest as he opened the closet door. Items were strewn everywhere.

Teru was crouching in the center of it all, biting his fingertips raw until they bled. A few fingernails were missing.

The omega saw him and gave off a distressed whimper. His mouth was coated in blood.

Shit. This was nesting.

It'd been centuries since Kieran helped an omega during a nesting fit. This happened in between heats because nesting was like a "period" for male omegas. When an omega failed to conceive, nesting was the result where they gathered various objects to create a comfortable, private space. If it wasn't resolved in a healthy way, they could end up self-mutilating themselves.

But...Teru supposedly hadn't had his first heat yet. Why was he nesting?

The vampire stepped forward. He needed to make him stop. Teru gave a low, warning purr.