What duty binds, only love may set free.

At thirty-three, Lord Valgar, Earl of Saran, is the last surviving water mage of noble blood. Forbidden from joining the war himself, his duty is clear: preserve the magic by fathering children.

But after fifteen years of a loving but childless marriage, the council has run out of patience. They demand he take a second omega. Valgar refuses to betray his mate—so he makes a calculated choice: an older omega, unlikely to bear a child.

But to Lord Quincy, the proposal he is pressured to accept is no mere formality. Still mourning the alpha he lost in battle, Quincy clings to the quiet life he’s built around his grief and solitude: his garden, his books, and his beloved animals. He’s not ready for another bond—and he harbours a secret that could unravel all of Valgar’s careful plans.

Can two reluctant husbands find common ground—and maybe even find that quiet fire known as hope?

“A Quiet Fire” is an arranged marriage romance novella featuring elements of dubcon, consensual polyamory, non-shifter omegaverse, feminisation and mpreg.

Warnings/Enticements: dubcon, arranged marriage, A/O, O/O, M/M, M/F, M/M/F, no cheating, accidental mpreg.

Sample:

Quincy



The heat had wilted the flowers thoughtfully placed all over the small sitting room where Quincy had been led by a sour-faced chaperone. To Quincy’s sensitive nose, they smelt like death. It would have been reason enough to feel nauseous, but he had more reason still.

He refused to look up. It wasn’t much, but that much he was entitled to. Well-bred omegas didn’t look alphas in the eye, after all, and at forty Quincy had an excuse to be old-fashioned.

Yara had certainly thought him as much, even if Yara herself had been wild enough to— He shoved the thought away and focused on keeping his expression neutral. Yara was gone.

Long gone, according to the council. And since Quincy was still of breeding age, it was only to be expected that he meet prospective alphas.

As far as he could tell, the only purpose it served was for them to prove their power over him. Unless they enjoyed humiliating him, which he wouldn’t have put past them either. When there were plenty of young nubile omegas of both sexes available to them, who on earth would claim him? None of the last five alphas to examine him had looked even remotely tempted.

So Quincy would keep his mouth shut and let this stranger circle him, eyeing him up like he could assess how fertile Quincy might be that way. He breathed and tried not to think about it at all.

Yara had been a good friend from early childhood, back when they’d both been betas, and while he’d loved her deeply and he’d enjoyed sexual congress, he’d mostly done it for her sake. In turn, she’d accepted his word that he did not want children—he’d never asked her if she felt the same, because female alphas paid an expensive price when they presented and weren’t able to carry a child.

So it’d been Quincy or no one. But that wasn’t public knowledge, so as far as the council and the alpha in front of him knew, Quincy hadn’t conceived in twenty years of marriage. There were many other ways for omegas to contribute to their household, but in Quincy’s experience, none that alphas approved of.

“Do you prefer cold weather or warm?”

The question was so unexpected, he glanced up, then hastily back down. He hadn’t paid much attention when they’d been introduced, so it was only now that it registered that the alpha in front of him was Saranian. He was at least a head taller than Quincy, with the dark skin and luminous violet eyes typical of his people, his white-blond hair braided intricately atop his head. Quincy regretted not listening to the introductions more closely.

He didn’t remember the finer points of protocol for foreigners very clearly, not over twenty years later, but an elaborate hair style always spoke of wealth and rank.

“Both have their virtues, my lord,” he said easily. It hardly mattered, truly, it was not like he cared if he made a small mistake when he had no interest in impressing the man.

“You have always lived here, have you not?”

He agreed that he had. Yara and he had settled down in one of her family’s many properties when they’d been married. He knew he was lucky to still be close to his childhood home, even if it was occupied by his older brother now that his parents were gone.

Quincy had been allowed to stay home when she… when she hadn’t returned. Back when she’d taken leave from her service at the front, they had gone into the nearest cities together, travelled and drank and met with all sorts of people in places Quincy would have never dared to frequent on his own.

That had been Yara for you, way too brave and bold for this world and somehow getting away with it anyway.

“You’d like my estate, I think,” the alpha said, and Quincy froze, suddenly on high alert. No one had talked about what he might like before. The alphas who’d seen him were there to determine if they liked him enough to pay the bride price.

“Your estate…?” he echoed, just to fill the silence, pretending his heart wasn’t racing.

It was the right question because the alpha launched into a detailed description of the place, and Quincy could just hum and sip at his tea. There was also a twinge of something foreign to his accent, some odd word choices at times, and trying to decipher exactly what kept Quincy entertained for the duration.

Everything pointed to this man being of higher rank than him, and Quincy didn’t know enough about Saranian politics to guess at what that might imply.

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