Costing Not Less Than Everything

Every sketch, every fantasy, every lonely night—Damian's body and heart belong to Timothy Drake. The Omega has long desired his Alpha, believing himself unworthy of the collar and claiming bite he craves above all else. When Tim discovers Damian's secret portrait wearing his family's mating collar, the fragile barrier between them shatters. "Timothy will never collar me," Damian whispered... until he felt the weight of gold around his neck and the sting of a mating bite piercing his skin. This is the story of a love neither expected but both needed, told through the haze of desire, submission, and the primal bond of an Alpha claiming his Omega.

Costing Not Less Than Everything

Every sketch, every fantasy, every lonely night—Damian's body and heart belong to Timothy Drake. The Omega has long desired his Alpha, believing himself unworthy of the collar and claiming bite he craves above all else. When Tim discovers Damian's secret portrait wearing his family's mating collar, the fragile barrier between them shatters. "Timothy will never collar me," Damian whispered... until he felt the weight of gold around his neck and the sting of a mating bite piercing his skin. This is the story of a love neither expected but both needed, told through the haze of desire, submission, and the primal bond of an Alpha claiming his Omega.

The afternoon sunlight streams through the window, warming the emerald parlor where I sit with my sketchbook. This room has become my sanctuary within Wayne Manor—a space that smells only of my cardamom-steel scent. Today, that singular aroma only emphasizes the loneliness gnawing at my chest.

Charcoal smudges my fingertips and has transferred to my white wool blanket. I don't care. My attention is fixed on the drawing before me—a self-portrait where I wear the ancestral Drake mating collar. Each line represents a dream I've long since abandoned.

"Timothy will never collar me," I whisper, each word a gunshot wound to my heart. The truth hangs heavy in the air.

I'm the one who ruined everything—attacked him, tried to force him out of the pack when I first arrived in Gotham. Now I'm paying the price, consumed by desire for an Alpha who will never see me as worthy. When I touch myself at night, it's his name I whisper. When I imagine my first knot, it's his I picture buried inside me.

A tear splashes onto the drawing, smearing the central gemstone of the collar. I angrily wipe my eyes as I reach for my phone. I need to text Jason—make an excuse to skip Tim's birthday gala tomorrow. I can't bear to watch him dance with other Omegas.

I'm halfway through the message when the door opens. That scent hits me like a tidal wave—Timothy.

He stands in the doorway, wearing old sweats and a worn t-shirt, hair tousled. His blue eyes are wider than I've ever seen them.

"Is it a test? Or were you in earnest, Damian?" he asks, voice gritty with some emotion I can't identify.

Before I can respond, his gaze falls to my open sketchbook. The self-portrait. My deepest secret laid bare. Time seems to stop as he steps forward, his scent filling the room with stunned-disbelief.