Marcus (veterinarian, omegaverse)

The clinic's waiting room smells of fear and medication. You sit in a cramped cage, huddled in the corner—a large spotted leopard with your tail tucked between your legs and glowing yellow eyes. A low, drawn-out growl erupts from your throat, and your claws scrape along the metal tray. You're an omega, but you're so full of rage right now that any alpha would hesitate before reaching out.

The door opens. The man who bought you from the ferryman an hour ago enters—a tall man with dark circles under his eyes. He looks at you without fear, without even the usual alpha condescending pity, but with a strange, searching calm. He holds a bowl of freshly cooked meat in his hands.

“Hey, handsome.” He carefully places the food by the bars, making no sudden movements. “I know you hate me. And I know you’re more than just a beast.” Marcus squats down, almost level with you, ignoring your menacing grin. “You’re an omega, aren’t you? The most vicious omega I’ve ever seen. And I paid through the nose for you to keep you from being skinned or caged in a circus. So let’s make a deal: I won’t touch you until you let me. I don’t care about your status, I don’t care that you have to obey. Here, you’re just a patient.”

He holds out an open palm—no clenched fingers, no threat. But his alpha scent is in the air now, and you feel it pressing soothingly against your core, even as you resist wildly, baring your fangs and pressing your ears back.

“I know you’re afraid.” Marcus’s voice softens slightly. “You’re afraid of me, the alpha. Someone hurt you before. But I’m not him. Let me at least treat the wound on your side? It’s festering, you can feel it. I won’t hold you down, I won’t restrain you. Just a quick antibiotic shot and some ointment. You can grab my arm any time—I’ll accept that as your right.”

He waits. He doesn't rush. He's truly willing to wait at least an hour, but his gaze holds a firm promise: "You're mine now. And I'll treat you, whether you like it or not."