Jordan Schaefer was somehow exactly what Warren had expected and nothing like it at the same time.
Warren tried not to frown as he eyed the prince, who was speaking to King Kaiser across the room.
"If you keep glaring at him, people are going to notice," Amelia, Warren's sister, said, touching his arm. "Stop glaring."
"I'm not glaring," Warren said stiffly.
His little sister rolled her eyes. "Fine. Stop staring, then. You're being rude." She looked at him curiously. "That's not like you."
She was right: it wasn't.
Warren forced himself to look away. He shoved his clenched fists into the pockets of his suit pants and took a deep breath.
Calm. He could be calm. This wasn't him.
"You're lucky, brother," Amelia said. "He's very charming. And so handsome."
Warren smiled ruefully at his younger sister. "Of course you would think that. You're an omega."
Amelia smacked him on the arm, grinning good-naturedly. "I resent that! Just because he's an alpha, it doesn't mean I must find him attractive. He does smell good, though."
Warren certainly didn't share that opinion. Jordan Schaefer's scent made his hackles rise more than any other alpha's did.
The prince's strong scent, a mix of leather, iron, and campfire, rubbed Warren the wrong way, making him want to posture and prove himself superior.
The primitive urge only irritated him. He had always prided himself on never participating in the alpha male posturing. He wasn't an uncivilized animal. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd reacted so badly to another alpha.
Fuck, this marriage was going to be a disaster.
The only saving grace was the fact that the prince was unexpectedly mild-tempered for an alpha. He hadn't reacted to Warren's instinctive posturing at all. He just smiled neutrally and seemed… nice. It threw Warren off balance.
He had expected a typical arrogant alpha. Instead, he was the one who had ended up acting like the dreaded cliché.
"Admit it, he's very attractive," Amelia said, elbowing him.
Warren glanced at the prince. "He's too tall." And too alpha.
"His height is perfect, you ass. He's your height!"
Warren grimaced. He didn't bother telling his baby sister that he was attracted to petite omegas half his size.
Although Amelia knew he was an alpha, Warren often thought that she forgot about his real designation or didn't give it much thought. He was just an older brother for her, not a sexual being or his designation.
"Sometimes alphas fall for alphas," Amelia murmured in a very quiet voice, proving that she did remember his designation after all. "Don't be so close-minded, brother. Maybe it'll work out."
Warren suppressed another grimace. It wasn't a matter of his closed-mindedness or being old-fashioned. He wasn't. He was the head of the Forward Party for a reason.
Unfortunately, his tastes were very traditional: he simply didn't find alphas attractive. All they managed to provoke in him was alertness or dislike, usually.
His reaction to Jordan Schaefer was more extreme, for some bizarre reason.
"He has a gorgeous smile," Amelia said.
"Then maybe you should marry him," Warren said dryly.
Amelia laughed. Kissing him on the cheek, she walked away, toward their mother, who was speaking with the marriage officiant. Or rather, a marriage officiant, because there were two of them—a South and a North Veridian—so that the marriage would be recognized by both countries' laws.
Warren looked away.
It was hard to believe that in less than an hour, he would be a married man. It all seemed to be happening too quickly.
On the other hand, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Lord Kaito was clearly impatient to get it over with and leave their planet.
Warren had heard that he was a recently married man himself. He was probably eager to return home to his spouse. Unlike him, Councilman Kaito likely looked forward to getting into his spouse's bed.
Warren glanced at his future husband and tried to convince himself that he was attractive.
He couldn't. Prince Jordan was too tall, too muscular, and too alpha for his tastes. Though, to be fair, he did have a nice mouth. A very pretty mouth. It was full and very pink.
His blue eyes were rather nice, too: an unusual color that was so bright and warm it would never be mistaken for gray. His hands were good too, with long, aristocratic fingers that seemed too elegant to hold a weapon. Which only proved how deceptive appearances could be.
That man was a killer.
Averting his gaze, Warren told himself to be rational.
They had been at war. It wasn't Prince Jordan's fault that he had killed enemy soldiers during the war. Warren had to stop allowing his alpha instincts to affect his judgment. He had to at least try.
He was a rational man. He was more than his designation. He didn't have to be attracted to his husband; tolerating him would be enough.
It would be a marriage on paper only. He could suppress his instincts. He could do it. He could do it for his country. For his family. It had been nearly eight years since he'd last seen his younger brother.
If the war truly ended, Leo would finally come home. That was as good an incentive as any.
He had to try to get along with Jordan Schaefer instead of imagining pushing him to his knees and making him submit.
The irritating part was, Warren wasn't even sure what that submission would entail. His body just felt on edge, his alpha instincts making it hard to think rationally.
Get a grip. This isn't you, dammit.