My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 92: Slaves to our Nature ( Luther’s POV )

Chapter 92: Slaves to our Nature ( Luther’s POV )

I didn’t move or breathe. Or react in any way.

At least I don’t think I did.

This annoying idiot that did nothing but gather unwanted attention over me for the last year was grinning ear to ear, excited about some measly eye contact.

I covered my lips.

It wasn’t to protect myself from another unexpected kiss. It was just an involuntary way to check if the heat of his mouth on mine was still lingering—

As if to prove it actually happened.

He swapped a piece of my hair behind my ear. His teal eyes looked soft and needy.

Despite his big grin, he looked like he was searching for approval. Or a scolding. Anything really.

"Did you hate it?"

"Why would you kiss me?"

"I’ve told you since we were in high school. I like you, Luther."

"Why? I haven’t talked to you. Or did anything for you to like me."

"Why should that matter?"

"So you’re just physically attracted?"

His eyes widened in shock. For a few seconds, he only looked at me. Like I just fell down to Earth and hit my head.

Like I’ve escaped a mental asylum and just yelled out loud the most shocking and out-of-the-box statement a human could ever tell.

He looked at me as if I had said that he had two heads that juggle continuously with each other each time he farts, it would be more believable.

"No, Luther, that’s not it..."

"Then why? Do you just enjoy being a victim of your shallow emotions?"

"Luther, you are refreshing. I-I put up this clown act, this perfect guy act every single day since I gained consciousness. A beta is doomed to be nothing. Background noise. Unimportant."

His gaze averted mine for the first time.

"You can’t be extraordinary since you’re not an alpha. You also can’t just be indifferent to your future. You’re not an omega, nobody is going to provide for you. You just have to work hard to be purely unremarkable."

His voice cracked on the first word.

Not loud, not steady.

It wasn’t the usual smooth, easy tone he always used to get under my skin.

This one sounded raw, like something slipped through that he didn’t mean to show.

"I don’t want to live like a ghost. I want to feel alive, I want people to notice me. I want to be extraordinary. I won’t let my secondary gender, something I can’t change, dictate that my life is nothing."

"I didn’t notice you. I ignored you. I treated you like nothing. I’ve done to you what you despise the most. So why?"

"No, Luther. You didn’t. All those people cheering me on, laughing at my jokes, gravitating around me— they are all treating me like a circus monkey. In their eyes, I’ll always be a beta. So it’s fun to do charity and let a poor beta entertain them. It’s not like it’s gonna last. But you?"

He stroked my jaw gently with his finger. It was barely a touch.

His eye unclear, unfocused.

His heartbeat loud enough for me to hear.

His mouth twisted in a concealed, practiced smile that just now revealed so much sadness behind it.

"You didn’t ignore me. You treated me like a nuisance. Like an annoying bug that always bothered you. Like an equal. You didn’t laugh at my jokes because you just didn’t find me funny. Not because I’m a beta. You didn’t just -try me on- to see what a beta would feel like. Sure, you hated my guts. I think you still do, but you never belittled me to what nature said I am."

"So you like me because I wasn’t impressed with your boofonary?"

"I like you because you didn’t buy my act."

"What a pathetic reason to like someone."

"You’re also super hot."

His usual grin reappeared.

I couldn’t help, but smile as well.

"I know how you feel."

I didn’t mean to talk. God knows the last thing I wanted was to give this clowny idiot a chance.

And yet—

Maybe it was the kiss.

Maybe it was the monologue.

I just found myself on the verge of crying.

"I-I am a toxic omega."

He stared at me like I’d just said something impossible.

Like the thought never even crossed his mind.

His breath caught, shallow and sharp, and I could see the way his throat worked, like he was trying to swallow it down but couldn’t.

That stupid grin he always wore—it didn’t come back.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Just silence stretching between us, heavy and fragile, like one wrong move would shatter it completely.

"Yeah, my dad doesn’t like me displaying that information. Keeps the marriage proposals short, you know?"

My voice choked for a second. It was hard to swallow the reality of my words. I’ve never aired them out before. I was not sure why I was now, but Tom was listening.

Squeezing my hands, looking at me.

"Well, my toxicity is quite high and there are a lot of expectations on me. My father— My father held his position as the Prime Minister for years. He can’t have his child be anything less than perfect. And yet, look at me!"

I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek.

I didn’t bother to wipe it clean.

"I don’t look anything else like an omega. I don’t act like one either. I just can’t stand the thought that one day, one of these alpha idiots will be in charge of my life while I just sit prettily next to him. I have dreams too! I am smart and I work hard."

He moved.

Fast, but not like before.

No teasing this time.

No grin.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in so hard I almost stumbled against him.

The air left my lungs for a second, not because it hurt, but because it was overwhelming.

He held on like he wasn’t going to let go.

His chin brushed the side of my head, and I could feel his breathing—uneven, shaky in a way that didn’t match the guy I knew.

His chest rose and fell quickly against mine, and for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence with a laugh or some stupid comment.

One of his hands moved slowly up my back, steady and careful, like he was trying to ground me—or maybe himself.

My fists stayed at my sides for a beat before they loosened, hanging there useless while my heart hammered loud enough to drown out everything else.

"I don’t want to be just a child incubator. A symbol of my father’s wealth or an asset to be traded."

"I understand."

His voice came out strangled. I could tell he was crying too.

Yet, this pressuring tension in the air,

The tears we shared,

The dreams too big for what society dictates,

The suffocating tightness of the hug gave both of us a sense of comfort neither of us had experienced before.

"I knew you were special, Luther."

"Guess you’re not that annoying either."

Tom didn’t let go right away.

His arms stayed firm around me like he was trying to keep the pieces from breaking apart. His breathing had slowed a little, but I could still feel it, shaky against my cheek.

Mine wasn’t much better.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t much—just enough so he could see my face. His hands stayed on my arms, like he was afraid I’d run the second he let go.

I should have.

I should have stepped back, walked out of the library, left him there with whatever this was.

But I didn’t.

The barely connection we had was holding me nailed to the floor. That ounce of comfort.

No matter how pathetic and desperate.

His eyes found mine, red at the edges, damp like mine probably were.

They weren’t teasing anymore.

All that playfulness he hid behind was gone, stripped away completely.

What was left was something raw, something I didn’t know how to look at without feeling like it would swallow me whole.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

The question was there, plain as day, sitting heavy between us.

Permission.

That’s what his eyes were asking for. Not demand, not a trick, not another joke. Just a quiet, desperate asking.

I froze, breath caught in my throat.

Everything in me screamed to back away, to shut this down before it went any further.

But then I saw him—really saw him—standing there like he was about to break if I said no. And something inside me cracked in a way I couldn’t put back together.

I didn’t have a clown in front of me anymore. I had a boy just as broken as I am. Just as desperate and yearning.

Before I could think, before I could talk myself out of it, I moved.

My hands curled into his shirt, gripping like I needed him to stay right where he was.

My feet shifted forward, and I rose onto my toes, closing the space between us in one sharp breath.

The kiss hit hard.

Deep.

Not soft or careful.

It wasn’t sweet—it couldn’t be.

It was full of everything we’d been holding back for years, everything we’d buried under anger, avoidance and grief for our real potential.

Tom didn’t hesitate.

The second my lips touched his, he sank into it like he’d been waiting for this his entire life. His hands slid up my arms and then around my back again, pulling me closer until there was nothing left between us. His grip was fierce, grounding, almost desperate, like he thought I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

I didn’t pull away.

Couldn’t.

My fingers tightened in his shirt, knuckles white, like letting go would hurt worse than anything else.

Every breath we stole from each other was shaky, broken, laced with that same heavy sadness we couldn’t put into words.

Tears slid down, hot against my skin, and I didn’t even know whose they were anymore.

His?

Mine?

Both?

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the way his mouth moved against mine, the way he kissed me like this was the only language we had left.

When I finally broke away for air, it wasn’t far.

Our foreheads rested together, both of us breathing hard, both of us trembling just enough to feel it.

His eyes opened slowly, and even through the blur, I could see everything in them.

Relief. Fear. Need.

All of it laid bare in a way that left me gutted.

"Could you- could you have me, Luther? Could you accept me? Could you love me?"

My voice threatened to come just as shattered as his. So I just nodded and let my head rest on his chest, deafened by the loud drum of his heartbeat.

I held him tight.

But nature was about to prove us wrong. No matter how much we wanted, we were slaves to our biology.

And so on, not even a year after we found each other truly, I’ve almost killed Tom.