Meadowfall Firefighters Box Set - Wineheart, Anna-E

Title Page
Contents
Copyright
Links!
Burning For My Prince
1. Perry
2. York
3. Perry
4. York
5. Perry
6. York
7. Perry
8. York
9. York
10. York
11. Perry
12. Perry
13. Perry
14. Perry
15. York
16. Perry
17. Perry
18. York
19. Perry
20. Perry
21. York
22. Perry
23. York
24. Perry
25. York
26. York
27. York
28. Perry
29. York
30. Perry
31. York
32. Perry
33. York
34. Perry
35. York
36. York
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Burning For My Prince
Gareth’s Boy
1. Flores
2. Gareth
3. Flores
4. Gareth
5. Flores
6. Gareth
7. Flores
8. Flores
9. Gareth
10. Gareth
11. Flores
12. Gareth
13. Flores
14. Flores
15. Flores
16. Gareth
17. Flores
18. Gareth
19. Flores
20. Gareth
21. Flores
22. Gareth
23. Flores
24. Gareth
25. Flores
26. Gareth
27. Flores
28. Gareth
29. Flores
30. Gareth
31. Flores
32. Gareth
33. Flores
34. Flores
35. Flores
36. Gareth
37. Flores
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Gareth’s Boy
Secrets in the Snow
1. Ben
2. Alec
3. Ben
4. Alec
5. Ben
6. Alec
7. Ben
8. Ben
9. Ben
10. Ben
11. Alec
12. Ben
13. Ben
14. Alec
15. Ben
16. Ben
17. Ben
18. Ben
19. Ben
20. Alec
21. Alec
22. Ben
23. Alec
24. Ben
25. Alec
26. Alec
27. Ben
28. Ben
29. Alec
30. Ben
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Secrets in the Snow
Alpha in Heat
1. Four Years Ago
2. The Worst Interview Ever
3. Dom Gets Grilled
4. What is That SMELL?
5. Bar Nights Part 1
8. Dom is Screwed
9. Jesse Loses His Temper
11. Dom is In Deep

12. Christmas Eve
13. Donut Wars: The Beginning
14. Things Get Real
15. “Donut”
16. The Donut Mystery
17. The Mysterious Morning Sickness
18. Jesse Freaks Out
19. “Donut”, or “Please”
20. The Chapter of Many Kisses
21. Dom Does Not Want To Grovel
22. Secret’s Out
23. Bite Me
24. Strength is
25. Dom Meets the Family
26. The Little Things
27. Dom Tries To Save Jesse
28. Jesse’s in Trouble
29. Dom Comes to the Rescue
30. Jesse Wakes Up
31. More Donuts
32. The Color of Love
33. Childbirth
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Alpha in Heat
Also by Anna
About the Author

DJMORFIX
Burning For My Prince
1. Perry
2. York
3. Perry
4. York
5. Perry
6. York
7. Perry
8. York
9. York
10. York
11. Perry
12. Perry
13. Perry
14. Perry
15. York
16. Perry
17. Perry
18. York
19. Perry
20. Perry
21. York
22. Perry
23. York
24. Perry
25. York
26. York
27. York
28. Perry
29. York
30. Perry
31. York
32. Perry
33. York
34. Perry
35. York
36. York
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Burning For My Prince
Gareth’s Boy
1. Flores
2. Gareth
3. Flores
4. Gareth
5. Flores
6. Gareth
7. Flores
8. Flores
9. Gareth
10. Gareth
11. Flores
12. Gareth
13. Flores
14. Flores
15. Flores
16. Gareth
17. Flores
18. Gareth
19. Flores
20. Gareth
21. Flores
22. Gareth
23. Flores
24. Gareth
25. Flores
26. Gareth
27. Flores
28. Gareth
29. Flores
30. Gareth
31. Flores
32. Gareth
33. Flores
34. Flores
35. Flores
36. Gareth
37. Flores
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Gareth’s Boy
Secrets in the Snow
1. Ben
2. Alec
3. Ben
4. Alec
5. Ben
6. Alec
7. Ben
8. Ben
9. Ben
10. Ben
11. Alec
12. Ben
13. Ben
14. Alec
15. Ben
16. Ben
17. Ben
18. Ben
19. Ben
20. Alec
21. Alec
22. Ben
23. Alec
24. Ben
25. Alec
26. Alec
27. Ben
28. Ben
29. Alec
30. Ben
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Secrets in the Snow
Alpha in Heat
1. Four Years Ago
2. The Worst Interview Ever
3. Dom Gets Grilled
4. What is That SMELL?
8. Dom is Screwed
9. Jesse Loses His Temper
11. Dom is In Deep
12. Christmas Eve
13. Donut Wars: The Beginning
14. Things Get Real
15. “Donut”
16. The Donut Mystery
17. The Mysterious Morning Sickness
18. Jesse Freaks Out
19. “Donut”, or “Please”
20. The Chapter of Many Kisses
21. Dom Does Not Want To Grovel
22. Secret’s Out
23. Bite Me
24. Strength is
25. Dom Meets the Family
26. The Little Things

27. Dom Tries To Save Jesse
28. Jesse’s in Trouble
29. Dom Comes to the Rescue
30. Jesse Wakes Up
31. More Donuts
32. The Color of Love
33. Childbirth
Epilogue
Bonus chapter: Alpha in Heat
Also by Anna
About the Author

Copyright Anna Wineheart 2023
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of
the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means
whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.
These novels contain graphic sexual content between two (or more) men. Intended for mature readers only.
Content Warnings
Burning For My Prince: Past domestic violence, Past emotional abuse, Violence
Gareth’s Boy: Past child abuse/neglect, Past car accident, Past failed abortion, Grief, Brief dubcon play, Some
gore, A brief almost-drowning, Blackmail, Gun innuendoes
Secrets in the Snow: past domestic violence, brief on-page torture, mild dubcon (handjob, consent given after),
violence
Alpha in Heat: On-page torture, past torture, past human experimentation, past organ transplant/additions,
past lover suicide, self-harm ideation, consensual dubcon-play, some violence
To all of you out there:
You are beautiful.
You are worthy.
You are loved.
Links!
Follow Anna on Amazon for the latest book releases!
Plus, sign up for Anna’s newsletter and catch super sneak previews at Anna’s Wine Shack
(Anna’s reader group).
Bookbub | Goodreads
What happens when your baby's daddy crashes naked through your bathroom
ceiling... and into your life?
A long time ago, York Davis made an online friend, and fell in love with him.
Unbeknownst to York, FrogPrince100 was also a college professor. When they met to
sate Prince's heat, Prince conceived. The very next day, Prince disappeared from York's
life, shattering his heart.
Five years ago, Perry Larkin did something he shouldn't: he gave in to his desires and
slept with his crush. The very first alpha to make him feel safe after much violent abuse
from his exes. Thing was, York was sixteen years younger than Perry. To hide his
identity, Perry wore a mask to their first and only meeting. Then, crippled by guilt, he
left, taking their unborn child with him.
Fast forward to today: York is a firefighter who has sworn off love. Except his nervous
new neighbor, Perry Larkin? He smells familiar. Perry feels familiar. York has no clue
what FrogPrince looked like, but Perry can't be him. And York shouldn't want Perry in
his bed, all day, every day. He shouldn't want to screw Perry into next week.
Besides, Perry has a four-year-old son who can't be York's, because Prince had been on
birth control that night... right?
“W HAT ’ S IN THAT BOX , D ADDY ?” Four-year-old Caleb peeked around the coffee table,
wriggling his little toes. “Is it a present?”
Perry Larkin bit his tongue, warmth prickling his cheeks. I should’ve known he’d ask that.
“No, hon. It’s for me. It’s, ah, work. Boring adult stuff.”
Caleb peered at the cardboard box, his green eyes large through his glasses. Sometimes,
Perry felt as though Caleb could see through his lies. “Oh,” Caleb said. “Can I see?”
His heart melting with fondness, Perry enveloped his son in a tackle-hug. Caleb
squealed. “Maybe when you get older,” Perry said.
“What about tomorrow?” Caleb grinned toothily.
Perry sighed. “In a few years.”
Or maybe never, because that was an invention no one should ever get their hands on.
It wasn’t just any ordinary machine. It wasn’t just some finely-tuned, pre-programmed
piece of equipment.
It was a ten-thousand-dollar invention, one that Perry had painstakingly worked on for
the past few years, one that was almost complete. It was a robotic platform encased in
plastic and then silicone, designed to caress Perry’s most intimate parts.
While the other Meadowfall College professors had been working on their precious
research, Perry had been tinkering away at the perfect ‘alpha’ he would spend his heats
with. It would touch him between his legs, it would open him up, and fill him the way
an alpha would.
Except, unlike an alpha, the machine was safe.
It would caress him. It would treat him with kindness, and while it didn’t have any
words for him, it would be warm, someplace he could go and just... lose himself. And
everything would still be okay.
“Daddy?” Caleb yawned.

Perry blinked himself back, glancing at his watch. It was past Caleb’s bedtime. They’d
been out grocery shopping, and they’d gotten home late. Perry winced. “Sorry. Let’s get
you ready for bed, shall we?”
He hauled Caleb to his feet, walking with his son to the en-suite bathroom in his
bedroom. The apartment had creaky windows and uneven floors, but for the past five
years of his life, it had been home.
In the bathroom, Perry brushed Caleb’s teeth, then got him dressed for bed. They read a
bedtime story together—Caleb’s favorite, with the two moon bunnies. Caleb fell asleep
halfway through, his glasses knocking askew when he leaned into Perry’s side.
Perry tucked him into bed, then kissed his forehead, marveling at the tiny human being
that was his son.
Caleb never failed to fill Perry with awe. He was a gift. Not because his alpha dad had
knowingly given him to Perry, but because Caleb was so full of love. If Caleb’s other
dad ever found out he existed... Perry shuddered.
More than anything, the thought of an angry alpha twisted Perry’s stomach.
Perry had lied to York that he was on birth control, when they’d had sex that one time.
Lying was a terrible thing. But Perry had justified it by swearing that York would never
find out about the child.
Perry didn’t need child support. He’d wanted a baby, no strings attached. That required
an alpha. And York Davis had been an online friend Perry had gotten a little too close
to.
Gods, if York ever found out... Perry breathed out his anxiety. It wasn’t going to
happen.
Caleb had Perry’s looks. Unlike York’s brown hair, Caleb’s curls were far darker, closer
to black, and his eyes had grown a beautiful shade of green, kind of like Perry’s. But the
thing that made Perry certain this would always be a secret?
York had absolutely no idea what Perry looked like.
On that night, Perry had worn a cartoon frog mask. York had winced when they’d met
at the coffee shop down the road, but he hadn’t protested too much.
The only way York would recognize Perry was if he saw the scars and tattoo on Perry’s
body, but that had a less-than-one-percent chance of happening.
So things would be okay. York would never find out. Perry wasn’t strutting on the
streets in his birthday suit.
Perry exhaled, willing his heart to slow. He made sure Caleb was still sleeping, then
shut the door quietly and slipped into his own bedroom, powering on his laptop.
York had updated his YouTube channel. Twenty minutes ago, he’d uploaded a new
video about Frog Island, a survival game that they’d both been playing for years. It was
how Perry had found York, and how Perry continued to admire York from afar.
Perry clicked on the video, his heart skipping a beat when that alpha’s face showed up
at the bottom-right corner of his screen. York Davis was handsome—very much so.
Sapphire-blue eyes, strong jaw, brown hair that was delightfully mussed.
Years back, they’d chatted about everything under the sun; favorite foods, favorite
games, game updates. Every afternoon, York would ask how Perry’s day had gone.
Perry would tease him about school, and York would retort that he was not young, that
he was growing up into a big, strong alpha.
Perry had found himself looking forward to waking up, to seeing the pictures of cars
and random things that York sent him every day. He loved hearing about the food York
made with his dad, he loved hearing York get all excited over the latest Frog Island
merchandise.
It had been good, in a friendshippy sort of way.
These days, it wasn’t so much the game that Perry was interested in, but York’s
emotional reactions to it. York laughing when the game glitched on him, York staring in
absolute horror when a new boss monster trashed his massive home base. York all
triumphant when he finally figured out how to take the new boss down.
He’s probably found an omega by now, Perry thought with a pang. Then he had to remind
himself that he wasn’t looking for an alpha.
“Hey, guys,” York said on the video, his voice slightly tinny. “Sorry about the lack of
updates. I graduated last month and started work at my local fire department. Plus I moved into
my own place, so I’m kinda scrambling to get everything together.”
It seemed like everyone was moving. Things had been crashing and bumping around in
the apartment downstairs, but the occupant was otherwise very quiet. He had a
booming laugh, though. Perry could’ve sworn it sounded like York. Then again, almost
everything reminded him of York.
It didn’t help that he’d never really lost his crush on that alpha. Perry had thought of
York as a younger brother, until he’d hit eighteen. Then York’s muscles had filled out,
his alpha body maturing, and Perry’s thoughts had dipped into the gutter far too many
times.
But unlike the alphas Perry had grown up with, he’d known York first as a friend. York
had never once treated Perry with contempt, or violence. It was precisely because of
that, that Perry’s guard slipped. And he’d begun to like York in ways he shouldn’t.
He’d wanted to spend time with York in person, he’d wanted to know what York
smelled like. Tasted like.
Feeling dirty and ashamed of himself, Perry had never confessed. Then York had
enrolled in Meadowfall College, and Perry had lied and said he’d quit teaching, just so
York wouldn’t try to meet up with him.
Except... Perry had wanted a baby. And he’d been beaten by far too many alphas to
even consider starting anything with York. Just one night—that had been all he’d
allowed himself.
So Perry had decided on the frog mask, and after that night, he’d completely removed
his online presence from York’s life.
“Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy this week’s episode—the Zombie Frogs update has been
incredible,” York continued on the video, his lips twitching into a smile.
Gods, he was handsome. And he did look tired. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw lightly
stubbled. Perry licked his lips, leaning closer.
Then York stretched his arms above his head, his muscles bunching, his T-shirt sleeves
slipping down to reveal bare biceps, shallow grooves running down his skin—all
muscle beneath. So much of it.
Perry’s blood swooped between his legs. He groaned, looking away. He shouldn’t keep
watching. But York rolled his shoulders, his muscles flexing, his lips full and sweet.
Let me kiss you, York had said that night. Just once.
You don’t have to, Perry had answered.
York had folded up the bottom half of the frog mask, and his lips had been hot on
Perry’s, his tongue sliding into Perry’s mouth, claiming him inside like how his cock
had claimed Perry’s hole.
Perry trembled now, watching York’s face. He needed to erase his arousal before he
ended up jerking off to York’s video. That would be terrible. York was sixteen years
younger than him. And Perry was thirty-eight now.
He paused the video and stumbled to the bedroom door, his pants uncomfortably tight.
Now would be a good time to test his precious invention.
Perry dragged the cardboard box from the living room to the bathroom, his back
straining with its weight. He opened the box. Heaved the machine into his bathtub. It
was rectangular, shaped like a saddle, with its ends curving up to hug Perry’s body.
In the tub, the device rattled around a little. Perry made a mental note to add rubber
feet to it, palming his cock through his pants.
Secretly, he’d nicknamed the machine The Boyfriend. Translucent white silicone
covered every exposed surface, wrapped snugly around clear plastic and a steel frame.
On the front end of the saddle, an acrylic tube formed a contractible tunnel. Inches
away, a white dildo rose out of The Boyfriend, the most beautiful alpha cock Perry had
been able to mold.
Rather, it was what he remembered of York’s cock, but no one had to know that.
Perry’s mouth went dry. He shed his clothes, grabbed a bottle of lube, and stepped into
the bathtub.
The tub creaked beneath his feet. Perry frowned, looking down.
The tub had creaked a few times before, though never this loudly. When it stayed quiet,
Perry drew the shower curtain shut, then turned the water on warm, rinsing the
silicone. Some of the shower spray splashed onto his chest, a warm touch trickling
down his skin.
He stared at himself, half-embarrassed by his flushed, straining cock, and the precome
that had already begun to drip down his length. Gods, he needed someone to pin him
down, someone to fuck good and hard into him, touch him inside. He wanted to writhe
in pleasure, he wanted to be thoroughly claimed.
Like York had done for him five years ago.
Perry gulped, his heart thudding. He turned the water off, squirted some clear lube
onto his fingers, and straddled The Boyfriend, slicking up the inside of the silicone tube.
Then he angled his cock down, pushing it into the tunnel.
With lubrication, the silicone slid easily around his sensitive skin. The presence of his
cock turned The Boyfriend on; its motors began to whir. The tunnel tightened around
Perry’s cock, the barest touch to test its boundaries. Pleasure shot down his nerves.
Perry braced his weight on his hands and knees, pushing his cock completely into the
tunnel. It pulled his foreskin down so his sensitive tip grazed the silicone. Then, as the
machine learned his movements, it began to respond, dragging its grip down his cock,
then back up, squeezing around Perry’s tip.
Perry moaned, leaking onto The Boyfriend. Short of an actual human, this was good.
He’d programmed some artificial intelligence into it, so he never knew how tightly it
would hold him, or how fast it would jerk his cock.
With the most recent modifications... maybe it was almost complete.
Perry grasped the dildo, then rocked back, letting its blunt tip nudge between his
asscheeks. He remembered that night with York, York probing at his hole, his cock
thick, hot, eager to slide inside Perry’s ass.
Perry’s breath rushed out of him. He leaked onto the dildo, groaning at its size. It felt
bigger than he expected, like York’s cock had been. He bit his lip and sank down,
panting when it impaled his body, forcing his hole to open around its thickness.
The sensors in the dildo registered his presence; The Boyfriend began to fuck into him.
Perry shuddered in bliss, his hole squeezing. That made The Boyfriend push deeper, the
silicone beneath him warming the longer the machine stayed on.
It wasn’t quite like being touched, but it was... good enough, Perry supposed. He
needed a warm chest at his back, he needed to be held, but a body-length machine was
far too heavy for him to transport between work and home.
And The Boyfriend... It wasn’t going deep enough. It wasn’t rough enough. When Perry
had been building it, he’d been afraid to program it to go any faster, because the
movements had looked violent.
On a subconscious level, he knew that was what he wanted. He had confidence in The
Boyfriend. But somehow, he’d been afraid of the machine hurting him when he least
expected it, like all those previous alphas. So he’d set a lower limit. And now he didn’t
have what he needed to come.
Perry bit his lip, rocking himself down onto the dildo, taking it entirely. His cock
begged for release, all dark red and thick. His knees ached against the cool tub. He
grasped the edge of the tub and shoved himself downward.
Something groaned. Perry figured it was the machine grinding against the bathtub.
He thought about York’s smile, and his cock pulsed. His balls pulled tight. He needed
more before he could reach the edge. He needed that dildo deeper inside him, he
needed it fucking him like a crazed animal.
And he wished he wasn’t kneeling in his tub, with only a silicone-clad machine for
company. He still needed an actual alpha inside, an alpha holding him. That realization
made his heart sink, even as his pleasure spiraled higher and higher, his balls heavy
with his come.
Perry grasped the base of his fuck-machine and shoved himself down. The bathtub
creaked, then bellowed.
Then it crashed through the floor, sending Perry tumbling forward as a dark hole
opened beneath him.
He screamed.
Y ORK TRUDGED INTO HIS APARTMENT , allowing the door to click shut behind him.
Home, even a barely-anything apartment with half his stuff still in moving boxes, had
never felt so good.
His body twinged with exhaustion. Over the past few weeks, the alphas at the fire
station had slowly increased the duration of his shifts—first twelve hours, then
eighteen, and today had been his first-ever twenty-four-hour shift.
After two back-to-back calls, scrubbing down the fire trucks, helping to conduct a fire
safety class for the public, and even more calls, he was just about ready to collapse into
bed, and sleep through his next two days off. It was a wonder how the other firefighters
did it, but they’d been at this far longer than him.
He shrugged out of his clothes, stepping into the tub. Glanced warily at the ceiling
above. The plaster was dark with water stains, but at least it wasn’t leaking right now.
The landlord had promised to take a look at the water damage tomorrow—soon
enough, York supposed. As long as the ceiling didn’t crash onto him.
He showered, dried off, and felt too awake to fall asleep just yet. So he sat at his desk
and did the recording for his next Frog Island video. Just as well, since there was a new
game update. York had been waiting eagerly for it for the past few months.
It was comforting, retreating into the survival game. It was something familiar.
Something he could do by himself and not feel alone.
Unlike being at his dad’s place, with his dad’s two alphas and Lenna, York’s two-year-
old half-sister.
At first, York had protested the relationship, because of how awkward it was. His dad
had been seeing two alphas, both of them York’s classmates. Then York had grown
comfortable with Spike and Kai dating his dad, and he’d even given his dad away at the
wedding.
But living around those guys, seeing his dad with his alphas around him all the time,
seeing his dad so unbelievably happy... It had made York feel awkward. Out of place.
Like he didn’t belong there anymore, not when his dad had made a new family for
himself.
So York had moved into his own apartment, and the weight on his shoulders had lifted.
Somewhat. Now the apartment felt too quiet with no one around.
Maybe York was broken. All his life, he’d lived with his dad, looking out for him,
protecting him. Without his dad, York needed someone else to care for. He didn’t
exactly know the people he’d saved on duty.
But York had also witnessed his dad’s heart breaking, he remembered his dad crying
when he couldn’t attract an alpha. Worse, he’d had his own heart ripped apart. He had
no intention of seeking out an omega.
Maybe he needed more friends. A roommate. Someone who wasn’t FrogPrince100

teasing him on chat. Someone who wasn’t an omega who had taught at Meadowfall
College, who wasn’t an omega wearing a frog mask at a coffee shop.
I’m in heat, FrogPrince had said years ago. If you don’t mind, would you like to spend the
night with me?
Yeah, sure, York had answered, and his heart had almost thumped out of his chest.
On one condition, FrogPrince had said. I’ll wear a mask. I’m not comfortable with you seeing
my face.
And that bastard had shown up at the coffee shop wearing a damn frog mask. Of all
things.
Gods, just thinking about FrogPrince... York breathed out the tightness in his chest. It
had been years since that omega had said, I’ll see you online later, and he’d completely
disappeared from York’s life.
At first, York had thought FrogPrince had met with an accident. He’d tried to contact
that omega. He’d said at the start of each video, Prince, if you’re out there watching this,
tell me something bad hasn’t happened to you.
No one had said anything, until York had thrown a fit two weeks later, and someone
had left an anonymous comment on his video. I’m fine. Move on. -FP
York would’ve dismissed it as a troll comment, except the person had also included two
emoji—a frog face, and a person wearing a dental mask. No one else could’ve known
about that.
Which meant that FrogPrince was alive, it meant that he’d left York, and holy hell, York
had felt utterly betrayed. And played.
He’d scoured the town for that tulip scent. But FrogPrince wasn’t the only one with a
tulip scent. York had found far too many dead ends, and after the twentieth omega who
looked at him strange, York had sworn never to fall in love again.
That was easy enough to do, because he’d stopped chatting online with omegas, he’d
stopped asking about anyone’s day, or sending them kitten pictures to cheer them up.
He’d stopped looking up recipes when anyone asked, he’d stopped sending photos of
cookies, he’d stopped offering to take anyone out to dinner.
York had been so blindly in love, that it hadn’t occurred to him that he was, until his
heart had shattered.
In the months after, he’d shut down completely. His dad had asked, except York hadn’t
wanted to talk about it. There wasn’t a point, anyway. And in the years following, York
had recovered somewhat.
He finished editing the video, hit Upload on YouTube, then went to bed. Tried not to
think about that night. FrogPrince panting against him, his breaths puffing loudly
behind his mask, the heavy musk of his arousal filling York’s lungs. His chest had
heaved, his hands trembling, and York had gone into a rut.
He’d never gone into a rut with anyone else.
York still remembered the sleek lines of FrogPrince’s body, the gears tattooed on the
small of his back. He remembered the way FrogPrince had moaned into his mouth, his
cock thick and leaking, his body so damn tight.
York had been planning on asking Prince to be his boyfriend the next day, except, well.
There was no point thinking about it. He was never going to forgive that bastard.
York scrubbed his face, breathing out. “Shut up,” he told himself. “Time to move on.”
If only it were that easy.
He turned off the computer screen and the lights, lying in bed. Tried to sleep. Instead,
he thought about an omega with a frog mask.
York wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake when something crashed in his apartment,
far too loudly. He bolted upright, straining his ears.
Then someone screamed—it sounded like it came from right outside his bedroom. What
the hell?
York threw off his sheets. Flung open his door. The screaming came louder now.
“Help me,” a man yelped in the pitch-darkness, his voice breaking.
“I’m coming,” York answered. “Where are you?”
“Bath—Bath...” The voice tapered into a low whimpering, and York’s heart squeezed.
He turned on the lights in the master bedroom—cardboard boxes littered the place. He
strode into the bathroom. Flicked on the lights.
Right above York’s bathtub, part of the ceiling had caved in. Another tub slanted
precariously into his bathroom, a pale face with dark, wet hair peeking over the edge of
the tub.
“Help,” the man begged.
Then his gaze focused on York, and he froze, his eyes growing wide. He scrambled
backward, whining when the tub began to tip further into the bathroom.
“Stop moving,” York said, striding forward.
The man scrambled harder, tiny, panicked squeaks falling from his lips.
York grimaced. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, grabbing the bottom of the tub to try
and support its weight. Damn, it was heavier than he thought. “But if you move, it’s
gonna completely fall through. Maybe it’ll take out my tub and go down another floor.”
The man froze. His chest heaved. He stared at York, green eyes raking down York’s
face.
“I need to get you out of there,” York told him. There was barely space between the lip
of the tub and the ceiling—enough for a small person to squeeze through. “Can you
climb down?”
The man shook his head vigorously. “Just—Just push the tub back up. I’ll go home.”
York sighed. “I’m not that strong.” The jagged edges of the floor dug painfully into his
palm. “Get down here before it crashes. Here, let me grab you.”
Panic flashed through the man’s eyes. But the tub creaked ominously, slanting further
into the bathroom. A wooden beam snapped. The bathtub jerked down, and the man
screamed.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of there.” York reached in, grabbed the man under his arms,
and hauled him out of the tub. Set him on his feet.
He wasn’t so heavy. And he was completely naked, wet, and he smelled like tulip and
musk.
A brief thought flashed through York’s mind: Could it be him?
He dismissed it immediately. This man—omega, from his floral scent—had strands of

white streaking through his dark hair. Crow’s feet crinkled next to his eyes. He was
older than the person York had fallen in love with.
“I’ve seen you around,” York said, something fluttering in his memory. The man
tensed. “You’re a professor at the college.”
“Oh. Yeah. I mean, yes.” The man fidgeted, looking everywhere but York. “I need to
go.”
“Like this?” York nodded at his nakedness. “Hang on, I’ll grab you a towel.”
“Please.”
York stepped away, but he couldn’t help scanning the omega. Thin shoulders, heaving
chest, narrow hips. Some silvery scars on his abdomen, mostly hidden by his arms
crossed in front of himself. His cock was half-hard, kind of flushed. No surprise what
he’d been doing in the tub, but York wouldn’t judge. This had to be a rude shock.
It just felt weird, breathing in the musk of the professor’s arousal. Unlike the woodsy
scents of alphas, the grassy scents of betas, and the floral scents of omegas, everyone
gave off musk when aroused—and it was telling, when York wasn’t the horny one in
this room.
“Towel.” The professor met York’s gaze, just for a second. York was struck by the depth
of those green eyes, the way they seemed to know him.
“What’s your name?” he blurted. Just so he wouldn’t think of this guy as That
Professor.
“Perry.”
“Perry.” York rolled the name on his tongue. Perry flushed.
He was pretty, York realized. Perry had large eyes and a button nose, and he had full,
pink lips. His lower lip jutted out just a little, like it was begging for a kiss.
Yeah, okay. Not someone York needed to moon over.
He ducked out of the bathroom to grab a towel. Paused for a moment, wondering how
his life had ended up like this.
He’d just gone twenty-four hours without sleep. And now there was a naked, older
omega in the bathroom, and York couldn’t help wanting to look at him again.
“H ERE ,” York said, shoving a fluffy blue towel through the gap in the bathroom door.
“You okay, Perry?”
Perry’s heart almost stopped. “Y-yes, I am.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
Perry didn’t trust himself to answer. He was in York’s apartment. York had moved into
the apartment beneath Perry’s, and Perry had had no idea until now.
Worse, York was right in front of him. York had seen him naked. Perry wanted to step
close, and breathe him in. But he also wanted to hide all of himself, so York would stop
looking. Sooner or later, York would see too much. He’d realize the truth.
“Perry?”
Perry jumped. His name sounded like rich wine on York’s lips, more exquisite than
Perry felt. And that rumbling growl sent an electric sizzle down Perry’s spine.
He wrapped the towel securely over his torso, hiding the scars and tattoo.
Somehow, in the surprise of their meeting, York hadn’t recognized Perry’s scars. Perry
wasn’t about to slip up again.
He turned back to the tub. “I have something in there I need to retrieve. It’s... kind of
important.” His ears burned. He’d been thrown off The Boyfriend when the tub fell
through the floor. “And it’s kind of bulky and heavy, so...”
“Ah.” York didn’t look surprised. That was even more humiliating. “Hang on. I’ll get a
step ladder. It’s out of my reach.”
The thought of York touching his sex machine? It made Perry want to bolt. Gods, he
had to. But he needed The Boyfriend back first, because it had taken hundreds of hours
to perfect. And he needed it with him for a sponsor presentation tomorrow.
York set the step ladder down, climbed it, and looked over the edge of Perry’s bathtub.
Surprise flickered through his face. Perry wanted to crawl into the bathroom cabinet
and never emerge.
“It’s, uh, kind of heavy,” Perry said lamely.

York reached into the tub and grabbed the machine, hauling it over the edge. He
must’ve hit one of the override buttons on The Boyfriend, because it whirred, suddenly.
The dildo began to pump up and down, like it was trying to attack York. Or fuck him.
And it was covered in Perry’s slick.
Perry’s face scorched.
“What the hell?” York said, staring at the contraption.
His skin too tight, Perry snatched the still-pumping Boyfriend out of his hands. “I need
to go. Thanks for your help. I’ll get Mr. Kent to fix the ceiling.”
He fled from the bathroom. And stopped abruptly in the dim hallway, trying to figure
out where the front door was. The living room layout looked different from his own.
But once he got back upstairs... how was he going to unlock his front door?
Caleb was still in the apartment. What if he’d heard the commotion and woken up, and
he couldn’t find Perry? What if he cried, thinking Perry had abandoned him? Perry’s
stomach twisted.
He turned back, only to crash into a solid chest. Hickory and smoke filled his lungs. His
heart stumbled.
“Sorry,” York rumbled, catching Perry by the arm so he didn’t fall. “Can you get back
okay?”
Perry cringed. “I’m locked out of my apartment. And my son—He’s all by himself.”
It should have been Our son. But if York found out, he would get so angry, far angrier
than he’d ever been. He would look at Perry like Perry was dirt under his shoe, and
Perry couldn’t stand the thought of that.
He squashed down the panic that threatened to spill out as tears. Then he hugged the
Boyfriend to his chest. The dildo pumped against the towel, solid thrusts that would’ve
been sexy if he weren’t wet and cold and a nervous wreck right now.
“You’re freaking out,” York murmured. “What’s wrong?”
Perry’s throat closed. York had seen him panic? “N-nothing.”
York’s face was cloaked in shadow, but Perry felt the weight of his frown. “I’m not
gonna hurt you,” York said.
Not yet, you won’t. Perry squirmed out of his grip. “I just need to get home. That’s all.”
“Okay.” York stepped aside, following Perry back to the bathroom.
He was giving Perry space—Perry could acknowledge that. But all the same, he wished
York was still touching him. York’s warmth was comforting. It felt safe, even if it was
just Perry pretending it was.
“So the only way back is through the floor? Think you can climb back upstairs?”
“I will.” Perry had no other choice.
He found the button to power down The Boyfriend. Then he turned to the step ladder,
gauging the distance he’d have to climb. Standing on the top step, Perry would only be
eye-level with the ceiling. He didn’t have the strength to heave himself through.
York pulled Perry’s tub further into his bathroom, so the rotted floorboards snapped
and the connected pipes groaned. But this left a larger hole in the floor, one that Perry
could actually climb through.
“Here, lemme take that from you,” York said, reaching for The Boyfriend. “Free up
your hands.”
Perry whimpered. York, touching the dildo that Perry had tried to mold based on his
cock? Perry wiped the slick hurriedly off the machine, before setting it on the floor.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just... set it here. Maybe you can hand it to me later?”
York nodded, glancing at The Boyfriend. Perry squirmed. He wished he hadn’t made
that dildo so big. It was one thing to admit to yourself what you liked, but an entirely
different thing to have your innermost desires out on full display. In front of the person
you secretly had a crush on. I hope York doesn’t realize how similar it is to his own cock.
Perry set a foot on the bottom rung of the step ladder, swaying. If only he were calmer,
and not terrified right now. It felt as though he’d take a wrong step and crash back onto
the floor.
“Here,” York said, stepping up close. He grasped Perry’s arm and pressed his palm
against Perry’s back, steadying him. “One step at a time.”
His warmth soaked into Perry’s skin. Perry trembled, holding the wall, trying not to
rely on York so much.
After today, he would retreat into his life with Caleb, and that... would have to be
enough. Maybe he would move out so he wouldn’t bump into York again. This was far
too risky.
His heart almost leaping out his chest, Perry climbed to the top of the step ladder,
staring at the mess of floorboards and pipes separating their apartments. His bathroom
beckoned at him, promising safety. He grasped the jagged edge of the floorboard. Tried
to heave himself up, except he was too weak to.
“C’mon, lift your foot. I’ll give you a boost up,” York said, cupping his hands to form a
cradle. “Step on my hands.”
Perry gulped. He would accept York’s help. Just this once. “Sorry,” he said. “For... For
all the trouble.”
He wanted to apologize for everything that had happened in the past, too, except this
wasn’t the time or place for it.
York stared oddly at him. Perry set his foot into York’s warm hands, York’s sheer heat
yanking a gasp from his lips.
He looked at York then. Really looked. And he saw all the things the videos didn’t
capture—York’s lips were full, gleaming damply, so much more kissable in person. His
eyes were sharp, clear. His muscles sloped down his shoulders, and his scent—gods,
that hickory scent, mixed with fire-smoke from his job.
In the years since Perry had last seen him, York’s body had filled out, his thin shirt
stretched over his pecs, the faintest outline of his cock visible through his sleeping
shorts. Bigger than Perry remembered.
How insane was it that Perry was terrified, and yet he was growing hard at the same
time?
He tucked the towel more securely around himself, reaching for the floorboards so he
could leave before his musk betrayed him.
York raised Perry’s foot. “Step on me. You’ll be able to climb through.”
It felt horrible, stepping on another person. Especially York. But Perry was almost
home, and he needed to see to Caleb. Make sure his son was okay.
That drove Perry upward; he pushed himself through the hole in the floor, barely
noticing when his towel snagged on the floorboard. Then it loosened around his chest
and fluttered down, leaving his legs bare, his cock springing up.
Perry yelped, not stopping to check if York had seen his arousal. He heaved himself
onto the cool bathroom floor. Shoved the rest of the towel back downstairs and
retreated from the dangerous, dangerous hole. “I’m fine now. Let me check on my son.”
York rumbled an answer. Perry fled from his bathroom.
Caleb. How was Caleb? Was he afraid?
No sound emerged from Caleb’s room. Quietly, Perry opened the door, letting his eyes
adjust to the darkness.
Caleb was still sleeping soundly, his arms around his teddy bear, his hair curling lightly
around his angelic face. Relief swept through Perry; he leaned against the doorjamb,
breathing out a sigh. He wanted to laugh.
Caleb had slept through all the screaming and crashes in the last few minutes. He had
no idea what Perry had just gone through. And that was absolutely fine. If it was
anyone who could surprise Perry, it was his son.
Weakly, Perry shut the door. He staggered back to his bedroom. Wondered what he
was going to do about the yawning hole in his bathroom floor.
“Your machine.” York’s voice drifted through the doorway.
Perry jumped. York. “M-my—”
Oh, gods. The Boyfriend. Perry’s cock had jerked up the moment he heard York’s voice.
Part of him wanted to show York his cock. The other part of him said it was a terrible
idea. Perry pulled on a pair of pants, then a shirt, shoving his cock down his pant-leg so
at least the bulge wasn’t so obvious. Then he sucked in a deep breath, and stepped back
into the bathroom.
York had set The Boyfriend on the floor next to the hole. Unlike Perry, York’s head and
shoulders came up above floor-level. He was so tall. And strong. Perry gulped,
squirming when York’s gaze swept over him from head to toe, lingering at the bulge in
his pants. He knows I need to be touched.
“Never seen one of those,” York said, nodding at The Boyfriend.
Perry’s face burned. He grabbed the device off the floor, slanting the dildo away from
York’s view. “It’s, ah. It’s a prototype.”
“You made it?” York’s stare bore straight into him.
Even with clothes on, Perry felt far too naked. Earlier, when York had checked out his
bare body, Perry’s skin had tingled. He’d been on the verge of saying, Please touch me.
Right now, it felt as though his cock would burst through his pants.
“I—I did.” Perry set The Boyfriend outside the bathroom, so York wouldn’t be
reminded of how desperate Perry was.
“Anyway, if you’re fine, I’m gonna leave you be.” York ran his fingers through his hair.
Perry glimpsed crimson on his palm. “Wait. Are you hurt?”
York paused, glancing down at his hand. “Just splinters. I’ll be fine.”
Guilt weighed down on Perry’s heart. The splinters had been from the floorboards,
hadn’t they? “At least let me fix that,” he said before he could stop himself. “You helped
me get home.”
It wasn’t an excuse to touch York. It really wasn’t.
York didn’t make to leave, so Perry rinsed his own hands, grabbing the first aid kit.
“How’s your son?” York asked. “You said you were going to check on him.”
A helpless laugh bubbled through Perry. “He’s fine. He slept through the whole thing. I
can’t believe it.”
“He’s young?”
“Four.”
Then Perry realized he shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late. There weren’t too
many omegas who smelled like tulips, who also had a four-year-old running around.
But York didn’t know that Perry had conceived that night.
Perry held his breath, averting his gaze as he set the first aid kit in front of York. “I hope
the floor isn’t going to cave in.”
“Shouldn’t. No leaks there.” York scanned the bathroom. “But I could get a mattress
laid out here if it helps ease your concerns.”
Perry laughed, a little easier this time. “You don’t have to. You don’t even know me.”
And that hurt, saying it. They’d known each other, once upon a time.
York stared at him for a moment. Then he shrugged. “It’s fine. You just feel familiar.
That’s all.”
“We’ve seen each other around. I know your dad. How’s Micah?” That was another
reason why Perry couldn’t mention any of this to anyone. Micah would skin Perry alive
for sleeping with his son.
It had felt so strange, sleeping with York one day, seeing him around on campus the
next. York had glanced at Perry and not recognized him at all, and Perry had felt equal
parts relief and guilt and devastation.
That had continued through the four years York had been in college. Perry had hoped...
that York would’ve recognized him somehow. And he’d hated himself for it, because he
knew that York would only react to him with anger.
For too many years, Perry had tentatively moved in with one alpha after another,
believing the care they’d shown for him. Then, when he’d gotten comfortable, they’d
turned around and thrown him against walls, they’d slapped him and told him how
worthless he was.
If York did that to him, too... It would break Perry.
An inscrutable look flitted through York’s face. “My dad’s fine. He’s happy.”
“I’m glad.”
Perry took York’s large, sturdy hands, washing them in a basin with soap and water.
Then he dabbed them dry with a clean towel, running his fingertips over York’s
callused palms to find the splinters.
He remembered these hands on him. He remembered them stroking down his front. He
remembered York slipping his thumb under the frog mask, brushing Perry’s cheek. He
remembered York touching Perry’s lips, and he remembered kissing those fingers in
return.
Perry traced the lines on York’s palm, savoring the points of contact they shared. The
reminder of warmth and care and safety.
A sharp point poked out of York’s skin; Perry found a pair of tweezers, pulling the
splinter out. Then he found another, and pulled that, too.
He searched for more wood slivers, tracing the outlines of York’s fingers, turning them
over to check the backs of his hands. A few scabs littered York’s skin, but his fingers...
Pinkish scars covered them, like York had dipped his hands in acid, and the wounds
had healed over. Perry remembered these, too.
I tried to get through some burning doors when I was younger, York had told FrogPrince100.
I couldn’t save my dad.
“You got hurt,” Perry said.
York shrugged. “Some bumps on the job. It’s not that bad.”
“What’re you working as?” Perry already knew, but... he wanted to hear York’s voice.
“Firefighter. Just got off a shift.” York met Perry’s eyes; Perry’s heart skipped.
They were far too close, and Perry couldn’t let him go.
How would it feel to say I’ve liked you for a very long time? How would it feel to say, I
wish I could tell you everything, and you would forgive me for it?
How would it feel to have York just... like him back, and not hurt him at all? If Perry
could believe that there would be no belts cracking over his body, or rough fingers
yanking painfully on his hair?
Nervous now, Perry wet his lips, turning back to York’s hands. “You’re doing a great
service to the town.”
York shrugged. “Always wanted to be a firefighter.”
“Why?”
“My dad was in an accident when I was ten. Couldn’t stop the fire. At least I can now.”
Perry winced. He’d seen Micah’s scars, but he’d never asked about them. Gods knew he
didn’t want to talk about his own. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” York turned his hand back over, closing his fist. Even his fingers
looked strong.
Briefly, Perry slipped his eyes shut. He imagined these hands on him again, stroking his
hair, touching his face. His throat went dry. When he opened his eyes, he found York
studying him. What had York seen?
His heart thumping, Perry looked away. “I... I should go.”
York huffed. “It’s your bathroom. I’m the one intruding.”
“I intruded first.”
York glanced between Perry’s legs. Perry wondered if York was remembering the sight
of him naked. Had York liked it?
Desire spiraled through Perry’s body, shocking him with the ferocity of it. He yanked
his hands away, pushing the tweezers into York’s palm. “Here. I think you can do the
rest yourself. I—I have to see my son.”
Then he fled the bathroom and pulled the door shut, putting some distance between
them.
Through his escape, Perry was far too aware of the broken floor in his bathroom; the
portal back into York’s life, that Perry both craved, and was terrified of.
I T ’ LL TAKE three weeks to complete the repairs, York’s landlord texted. But the debris has been
cleared. Your bathroom’s usable.
York tucked his phone back into his pocket, shouldering his grocery bag. A shower
sounded good. He’d been up and about all morning, and he was ready for some relief
from the summer heat. As it was, sweat had drenched his shirt, and he stank.
The elevator door opened, two people almost crashing into him when they tried to step
in. One short omega, and a tiny child.
“Oh.” Perry stopped abruptly, his eyes growing wide. “Sorry. Here, Caleb. We have to
step back first.”
“Why?” the boy asked, peering at Perry through his large round glasses.
“Because it’s rude to force your way into a room when there’s other people trying to get
out,” Perry explained, a rosy flush crawling up his cheeks. “Here, step away, hon.”
York eased out of the elevator, throwing his arm against the doors so the elevator
would stay open. Then he realized why this felt so odd—aside from bumping into
Perry—York had hit the button for the wrong floor.
Or maybe it was just his subconscious talking.
After Perry had left his tweezers with York last night, York couldn’t stop thinking about
him. Something about the professor had dug under his skin.
Maybe it was the familiar tulip scent. Maybe it was the way Perry had been so nervous
around him. Or maybe it was Perry’s arousal—York had never seen anyone terrified
and horny at the same time. How did that even work?
So yeah, he’d spent too long lying awake trying to imagine being scared and aroused,
and then he’d thought about Perry’s flushed cock between his creamy thighs, in that
split second before he’d clambered back into his own bathroom.
York had thought about the silvery scars on Perry’s body—reminiscent of those he’d
seen on FrogPrince. Maybe they looked really similar, but York wasn’t about to trust his
years-old memory at this point.
Then he’d thought about that white silicone contraption with the dildo, with the musk-
and-tulip scents all over it. He’d wondered about the person who was desperate
enough to invent a machine like that, and who was embarrassed about it at the same
time.
Who was Perry Larkin?
“I need to return your tweezers,” York blurted.
Surprise flashed through Perry’s face. “Um, maybe later? We’re heading out right
now.”
Only then did York notice the bath towels tucked under Perry’s arm, and the duffel bag
he’d slung over his shoulder. Because they were short a tub, and they had to go
elsewhere for a shower. “Oh.”
“We’ll, um, see you around.” Perry led his son into the elevator.
Just as the doors began to close, York remembered he was on the wrong floor. He
jammed his fingers against the elevator call button, smiling sheepishly when Perry and
Caleb looked at him in question.
“Got off on the wrong floor,” York said, his cheeks warming. “Sorry.” He joined them
in the elevator.
“Who’s he, Daddy?” Caleb peered owlishly at York.
Perry seemed to freeze. Was it because he was embarrassed by last night? Falling naked
into York’s bathroom? “He’s, uh.”
“My name’s York.” York crouched in front of the kid. “I’m a firefighter.”
Caleb had wide green eyes, and he looked very similar to Perry. His nose was different,
though. Sharper.
“Where’s your spectagoggles?” Caleb asked.
“Sorry?” York glanced at Perry for help.
“Spectagoggles,” Caleb repeated. Then he held his thumbs and forefingers together,
mimicking his glasses. “Errybody’s got spectagoggles.”
Perry bit down a laugh—the first time York had seen him smile. It looked good on him.
Made him look... younger. “He’s convinced that everyone has a secret pair of glasses
just like his own.”
“Hmm.” York thought for a bit. “Mine’s at home. I forgot to bring it.”
Perry raised his eyebrows. “You wear glasses?”

“Rarely. Only when I need to read some really tiny words.”
“Wow. And, and, you’re a firefighter,” Caleb whispered, awe lighting his tiny face.
“Daddy, he’s a good guy!”
Perry laughed. “Yes, he is.”
Well, if that didn’t make York’s chest puff up... Embarrassed, he scratched his neck.
“I’m really new at my job, mind you. It’ll take a while for me to become one of those
seasoned vets.”
“That’s good enough for Caleb.” Perry grinned, ruffling his son’s hair.
The elevator dinged. York realized he’d completely forgotten to hit the button for his
floor. Not that he wanted to go home right now.
He threw his arm against the door to hold it open, nodding for Perry and Caleb to step
out. As Perry passed him with murmured thanks, just inches away, York caught a whiff
of tulip. Perry smelled so... familiar. Something in York’s chest stirred.
Maybe it was his memories speaking. Maybe he was projecting onto Perry Larkin. But
he said, “Hey, if you guys need a shower, you could borrow mine. Less traveling,
anyhow.”
Perry paused in the elevator lobby, his forehead crinkling. “We couldn’t possibly
trouble you like that.”
York nodded at Caleb. “Is he gonna stay comfy after you guys run out and come back?
It’s like a frying pan out there.”
Perry glanced at the blinding sunlight streaming into the lobby. He winced. “It’s... not
nice to impose,” he said finally.
“I wouldn’t be a good neighbor if I didn’t offer my home,” York said.
Good neighbor, his ass. Mostly, he wanted to know what Perry’s ass looked like. Not
that he’d see it, but York had jerked off last night, imagining Perry Larkin as
FrogPrince. It was a ludicrous, embarrassing fantasy.
Maybe it had been too long since he’d gotten laid.
Perry glanced at Caleb’s flushed cheeks and sweat-matted hair, and sighed. “Just this
once,” he said. “I promise we won’t be hounding you for baths in the middle of the
night.”
“Bath!” Caleb cheered. “Icy cold bath! Can I—Daddy, can I have a bubble bath?”
Perry bit his lip, half-smiling, half-glancing at York for permission. He looked so shy
about it, that York’s heart softened.
“Sure,” York said.
“Just for Caleb,” Perry said.
And now York could imagine bubbles covering Perry’s cock, trailing down his asscrack.
Gods. He needed to stop thinking. “You could have one, too, if you wanted.”
He must’ve said it weird, because Perry looked away, a flush crawling up his neck. “I—
I just need a shower. That’ll be enough.”
His tongue darted across his lower lip, though, a flash of pink. York dragged his eyes
away. He was just missing FrogPrince. That was all. He wasn’t affected by Perry Larkin
or that tulip scent or anything like that.
“C’mon, let’s head upstairs,” York muttered. He swung his grocery bag in front of
himself, almost tempted to lower it so he could cover his growing cock.
In the elevator, Caleb pointed at York’s hips. “What’s that?”
“Hm? What’s what?” Perry turned to look.
“My grocery bag?” York rattled his groceries.
Caleb shook his head. “A snake got in your pants. Watch out! It’s gonna bite!”
York froze. He glanced up, only to see Perry’s eyes widen, Perry’s gaze dropping to
York’s hips. York swore, shoving his groceries down. “It’s nothing.”
“I saw it!” Caleb frowned. “It’s big!”
Perry made a low, choking sound, his face turning so red that York thought he might
faint. “Maybe we should just—just go to the college gym,” Perry croaked, looking at
everything but York.
“I’ll beat up the snake,” York said. “Don’t worry. I’m a strong firefighter.”
“But the snake will cry.” Caleb frowned. “Don’t hurt it!”
Perry swayed on his feet, covering his face. Had York gone too far, answering Caleb like
he had? Except he found a growing bulge between Perry’s legs.
An answering hunger jolted down York’s spine. Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to get
involved with an omega. He’d sworn up and down he wasn’t. Especially someone he
would bump into frequently. Things would go wrong, and then they’d get awkward.
The elevator chimed for the third floor. “We’re here,” York said gruffly, nodding
toward the exit. “Out.”
Perry couldn’t look at York. His face and neck and ears were all red, and he left a trail of
musk down the corridor. York sniffed. Then he sniffed again, trying to get more of that
scent. The way Perry smelled... He needed something between his legs. Something like
York’s cock.
Gods, if York could have Perry Larkin in his bed, just for a night... What would that be
like? Would Perry writhe and whimper beneath him? Would he arch off the bed when
he took York’s entire length? Just like FrogPrince had?
Quit thinking, or you’ll split your pants. York stopped in front of his door, unlocking it. He
made sure his grocery bag covered his cock. Yeah, it really needed to be hidden now, or
Perry would probably flee. Not that York was going to do anything with him.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Perry said, his voice rough with arousal, his throat
flushed. “I, um. If you could tell me where the bathroom is...”
York nodded toward the master bedroom. “Sorry about all the boxes. Just moved in.
Haven’t got time to clear the mess.”
Caleb skipped after him. Perry followed much more slowly, his armful of towels
pressed against his hips. That made two of them.
When Perry and his son were inside the bathroom, York left the bedroom, shutting the
door so they had some privacy. He left his groceries in the kitchen, then locked himself
in his bedroom, ripping his jeans open. His cock shoved out, thick and ravenous,
needing to burrow inside Perry’s ass.
York glared at it. This was just... some sort of phase. He’d met someone who smelled
like FrogPrince, and his body was reacting. He was hungry. He hated FrogPrince. But
maybe... he still felt something for that bastard.
FrogPrince had laughed softly when York had gotten him in bed. He’d wrapped his
legs around York’s hips, and he’d spread his ass, his hole puckered and slick, needing
to be opened. He’d whispered, You’re so lovely, and he’d rubbed his entire body against
York, his uncut cock leaving a trail of precome down York’s abs.
York threw himself onto his bed, grasping his cock, jerking it hard and fast so he could
get this over with. Perry had foreskin, too. He smelled just like FrogPrince had, and... if
York got Perry in his bed, would he be sleeping with Perry, or would he pretend he was
back with that omega who’d broken his heart?
Did it even matter?
He flipped onto his front, closing his fist around his cock, snapping his hips
punishingly hard. He imagined FrogPrince, with that gear tattoo on his back. He
imagined plunging his cock into that tight, creamy ass.
Would FrogPrince still gasp and shudder if York had him in this bed right now? Would
he arch and cry out and regret ever leaving York, if he remembered how loudly he’d
screamed when he’d come?
York drove his cock deep, squeezing hard around the base of it. His nerves sizzled. He
leaked onto the mattress, his cock smearing precome across the sheets. He pumped his
hips harder, imagining FrogPrince beneath himself. Except that image morphed into
Perry Larkin, his chest heaving, his cock so red it looked like it’d spurt all over York’s
bed.
York imagined ravaging Perry’s ass with his cock. He imagined stretching Perry,
opening him, claiming him inside. He imagined sinking balls-deep, Perry’s ass tight,
sucking on him for every drop of come. He imagined his own cock grinding against
Perry’s prostate, until Perry thrashed and cried out and shook uncontrollably, begging
for release.
He imagined fucking Perry until that professor screamed and spurted, his ass clenching
around York, his over-sensitive cock pulsing in York’s fist.
With a bitten-off growl, York came, pleasure washing bright-white through his body.
He pressed his forehead into his pillows, just catching his breath. Pictured the sticky
come in his hand deep inside Perry’s body. And something possessive growled in his
chest.
Slowly, he took stock of his surroundings. Sweat glued his clothes to the rest of his
body. The whole bedroom reeked of his musk, and York really needed a shower right
now.
He heard water rushing through the pipes. Perry had probably calmed himself and was
seeing to his child. Maybe he’d calmed enough to shower.
York rolled onto his back, dragging his forearm across his eyes. He’d just jerked off to
Perry Larkin. Someone he’d only glimpsed in the college corridors before yesterday.
What was he even doing? At least I’ve gotten him out of my system.
He peeled off his sweat-drenched clothes, pulling on some fresh ones. Then he
rummaged in his drawer for a bottle of scent suppressant. Spritzed that all over himself.
He found some deodorant, and used that, too.
So he didn’t smell like he’d been jerking off. Gods, that was embarrassing.
When he felt a bit more ready, he sucked in a deep breath. He had a list of stuff to do
today. Make food. Record another Frog Island video for his channel. Maybe drop by his
old home and visit his dad.
That left a sourness in his mouth. Dad was happy. He didn’t need York around.
York left the room, stopping by the hallway bathroom to wash his face. Then he put
away the groceries, listening to the muffled sounds of Perry talking with Caleb.
During both times York had sniffed at him, Perry hadn’t been wearing an alpha’s scent.
Was he in some long-distance relationship, or was he a single dad? Had he lost his
alpha, or did his alpha ditch him with a kid?
Growing up, York had watched his own father struggle with parenting. Dad had set
aside his own needs so he could feed York, he’d sacrificed his own leisure time
whenever York encountered any trouble, something York hadn’t realized until he’d
gotten far older.
So if Perry were anything like York’s dad... what if Perry needed help with things? Did
he have someone to rely on?
York threw together a mushroom omelette on the stove, opening a bottle of orange
juice. Then he heated some water for tea, and dropped some rashers of bacon into the
pan. Soon enough, sizzles filled the kitchen, and the scent of smoky bacon stuck to
York’s clothes. Just as well that he hadn’t showered.
“Mmm-mm!” Caleb raced into the kitchen, his round glasses perched on his nose, his
wet hair neatly combed. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Caleb!” Perry yelled from further in the apartment. “No running! You might fall
down!”
“He’s good,” York answered, crouching in front of the boy. “You heard your dad,
right?” York wagged his finger at Caleb. “Don’t fall down and make your dad sad, your
dad’s worried about you.”
Caleb scrunched up his mouth, confused. “Daddy’s sad?”
“He will be if you fall. And you can prevent that if you don’t run around.”
“Oh.” Caleb chewed on that bit of information, glancing at the stove. “Food time?”
“Uh-huh. But you’ll have to tell me what my name is, first,” York said.
Caleb made a face. “Y... Yorbie?”
“That’s the green dino on TV,” York said dryly. “My name’s York.”
“York.” Caleb looked hopefully at him.
“Great job.” York ruffled his damp hair, then realized he’d just messed up Perry’s
handiwork. “Oops. How about an omelette? You like mushrooms and cheese?”
Caleb lit up. So York grabbed a plate, doling out a small portion of omelette. He cut it
into small chunks. Then he set it on the kitchen table, and scooped Caleb onto a chair. “I
don’t have plastic spoons or forks, so you get to be an adult,” York added, handing
Caleb a fork. “But be careful, all right? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
He held a hand against Caleb’s back, just in case he needed the support. Sat next to the
boy. Looked up when he heard a muffled whimper.
Perry had frozen in the kitchen doorway, his eyes glued to York and Caleb. He was
clutching his half-buttoned shirt like he’d forgotten he was in the middle of dressing,
his pants unzipped.
But the expression on his face—it was dismay, and... fear?
York tensed. “What’s wrong?”
Perry shook his head hurriedly. “No, it’s nothing.”
Except the unease lingered on his face. York stood, keeping one hand on Caleb. “Perry,”
York said. “Talk to me.”
Perry met his eyes, pulling his shirt over his bare abdomen. “We really should leave.”
York decided that Caleb could fend for himself for a while. “Something happened,”
York said, crossing the kitchen, closing the distance between himself and Perry. “If you
don’t tell me, I can’t fix it.”
“It’s not something you can fix.” Perry backed away; Caleb watched them curiously.
Earlier... Perry had sounded fine, yelling at Caleb. So... “Is it me?”
York caught Perry’s chin, tipping his face up so their eyes met. Perry’s gaze skittered
away. Yesterday, too—Perry had asked for help, but the moment he’d glimpsed York,
he’d all but tried to flee. Except York still aroused him. He wasn’t even in heat.
“I should go,” Perry mumbled, looking at his feet.
He looked... lost. Scared. Helpless. He needed someone. And something in York’s chest
stirred.
“Do you have an alpha?” York asked, glancing at the scent gland on Perry’s neck. There
were a few bite marks there, but that could mean anything.
“Does it matter?” Perry inched away.
“Yeah, it does.”
“Why?”
“Because you need a hug, and if there’s no one around to give it to you, I will.”
Perry whimpered, disbelief flashing through his gaze. Accompanied by hope.
So York stepped close and pulled Perry against himself, folding his arms around Perry’s
thin frame. The professor stiffened, his chest heaving.
“You—don’t have to,” Perry gasped, his nails digging into York’s sides.
York loosened his arms, surprised. No one else had panicked when he’d hugged them.
“No hug?”
Perry opened and closed his mouth, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. “I...”
“You want Caleb to give you a hug instead?”
“L-later.” Perry ducked his head, pressing himself against York’s chest. He couldn’t
look at York. But there was no mistaking his hunched shoulders, the way he flattened
himself against York, tense, like he expected York to push him away.
Why are you so scared of me? We haven’t even talked before yesterday.
Or had someone else hurt him before, and Perry was afraid of the same treatment from
York? Anger sparked in York’s chest; he tugged Perry closer, slowly. “Are you okay
with this?”
Perry nodded.
“This?” York tightened his embrace, pulling the professor flush against himself.
Again, Perry nodded.

Then, because Perry smelled like FrogPrince, and because York had always wanted to
do this for the jerk who had left him, he slipped his fingers into Perry’s damp hair, and
pressed Perry’s face gently against his shoulder. Just held him close, stroking his back.
“Whoever hurt you in the past... I’m not that sort of person,” York growled. “You don’t
have to be afraid of me.”
Perry sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t answer, but that was enough. Someone had
hurt him.
York closed his eyes, stroking down Perry’s narrow back. Perry was small, almost frail,
and... It had been larger, stronger alphas who had hurt him, hadn’t it? York had heard
stories from some of the policemen and firefighters he’d worked with. There were
alphas out there, who shouldn’t be allowed the strength they had.
He wouldn’t ask Perry about it now. It wasn’t the right time. But he pulled Perry closer,
and just held him.
Perry trembled, his breath hitching. Then he buried his face in York’s shoulder, and his
tears soaked through York’s shirt.
P ERRY COULDN ’ T REMEMBER the last time he’d been hugged. There was Caleb, but
Caleb wasn’t a fully-grown alpha, he wasn’t someone with a strong chest and a low,
rumbling voice, someone bigger than Perry, and who felt so safe.
I’ve missed you so much, Perry wanted to say.
Instead, he buried the words in his chest, and filled his lungs with York’s hickory scent.
Just being close to York like this, just feeling the strength of his body... It felt so good.
Comforting. Safe. Perry was tired of being the strong one for Caleb, all the time. He was
tired of feeling so alone. Caleb was a joy to have around, but sometimes... Perry wished
he had an adult he could confide in. Someone who wouldn’t mind knowing his secret
desires, someone who would just... touch him.
And here York was offering a hug, expecting nothing in return at all.
Overwhelmed, Perry’s eyes burned. He hid his face in York’s shoulder, shaking at the
sheer impossibility of this situation. For so long, he’d avoided York Davis, swearing
he’d never see this alpha again.
He couldn’t stay. York couldn’t find out that Caleb was his son. And the longer Perry
remained around him, the easier that information would slip. York would hate him
worse than before.
Perry shook, his breaths shuddering out of him.
“Hey,” York murmured. “It’s fine.”
Perry didn’t answer. Things would never be fine, at least for someone like Perry.
Someone who had been beaten and humiliated, someone who had kept secrets for so
long.
When he finally composed himself, Perry pulled away, swiping at his eyes. “Thanks,”
he mumbled, his voice rough.
“You don’t have an alpha?” York murmured.
Perry kept silent. He wasn’t sure what to tell York. Then he decided it didn’t matter. He
would try his best to avoid York after this. “I don’t need one.”
York’s gaze sharpened, like he’d seen through that lie.

More brightly, Perry asked Caleb, “Ready to go, hon? We’ve got to get you to
Meadowfall Tots. I have classes this afternoon.”
“Aw.” Caleb sagged, poking at his omelette. “I don’t wanna go.”
York had made that omelette for Caleb. Perry bit his lip. The sight of York and Caleb
sitting together at the table... It had shaken him.
For a moment there, Perry had glimpsed the sort of future York and Caleb could have
together. York taking Caleb away from Perry. York strong and unbroken, every bit the
alpha dad Caleb deserved. Instead, Caleb was stuck with Perry, because Perry was
selfish.
All this crap you got us in, it’s because you can’t do shit, Zac had jeered.
You’re just good to fuck. That’s all. Tim hadn’t even bothered to look at Perry, outside the
bedroom. He’d used Perry, and then he’d thrown Perry’s things out of the house.
You only have an alpha because I’m taking a chance on you. Ron had cracked his belt across
Perry’s stomach until the skin had split open and blood had welled up. Now, shut up.
You’re not worth listening to.
Why can’t I do anything right? Perry hated himself so, so much.
“I made omelette for you, too,” York said, nodding at the pan. “Want some?”
Perry blinked, surprised. York had made food for him?
He retreated from York, stepping over to Caleb. The omelette smelled savory, cheesy.
Like it would be an explosion of fireworks on his tongue. “I’ll just wait for Caleb to be
done,” Perry said, unwilling to accumulate his debt to York. “But thank you.”
“Okay.” York shrugged, plating some egg and bacon for himself. Then he leaned
against the counter, watching them as he ate.
Perry looked away, feeling too naked again.
When Caleb was finally done, Perry brought his plate to the sink, intending to wash up.
York took the plate from him. Their fingers brushed, and electricity skittered across
Perry’s skin. Perry snatched his hand away, unsure what to make of that reaction. He
hadn’t felt that since... since he’d met York that night, years ago.
York accompanied them to the door. Perry clutched his towels and duffel bag closer, as
though they would offer protection. This would be the only time he accepted a favor
from York. He needed to move far away from this place.
“Thanks,” Perry mumbled when they’d stepped out, daring to glance at York again.
“Anytime.” York leaned against his doorjamb, hooking his thumb in his jeans pocket.
His biceps bulged. His pecs stretched his shirt, and his lips...
What would it feel like to kiss him again?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Perry’s skin burned. He yanked his gaze
away, pasting on a smile. “Let’s get going, Caleb. Say thank-you to York.”
“Thank you,” Caleb said.
“You’re welcome.” York grinned at Perry’s son. Then he glanced back at Perry, raking
his gaze down Perry’s front, from head to toe. Probably the exact same way Perry had
checked him out.
Heat flushed through Perry’s body; he turned sharply away, tugging Caleb with him to
the elevator. He couldn’t let York smell the musk rolling off his skin.
“See you guys around?” York called.
“Maybe,” Perry said. He couldn’t duck into the elevator fast enough.
There was having York Davis as his neighbor. Then there was fantasizing about being
in York’s bed, having every inch of York’s skin pressed against his own. Having York
open Perry with his cock.
Perry was in so much trouble.
L ATER , Perry theorized that these damning thoughts haunted him because his heat was
almost here. Just another week, and he would be in hormone hell, craving an alpha,
needing an alpha to fill him.
It was especially dangerous this time, because it wouldn’t take much convincing to
head downstairs. Beg York to touch him between his legs.
Heat swooped between Perry’s thighs; he groaned. He wasn’t even in heat yet. How
bad would it be when it hit? How much begging would it take for York to fuck him?
Going by the look York had given him earlier... No, it wouldn’t take much at all.
Perry gulped, his cheeks scorching. He was glad to have his own office. Glad to have a
scent suppressant on hand, so he could stop the trail of musk he was starting to leave
everywhere.
Before yesterday... he’d had some semblance of self-control. All it had taken was
meeting York in person again, having York see him naked. And now, Perry’s cock
strained against his pants, needing a strong, sturdy hand around it.
He rubbed his face, unpacking The Boyfriend from its cardboard box. He’d cleaned it
last night so it wouldn’t reek of sex.
Right now, The Boyfriend sat perched on his desk, its white cock straining up, its flat
silicone fingers familiar. But it didn’t give Perry the shivers now. No, York had
completely stolen that power from The Boyfriend.
Deftly, Perry eased off the white silicone skin, then unscrewed the dildo and the tunnel-
fingers from The Boyfriend’s base. He secured two sets of roller knobs to the motor
arms, making sure the copper contacts snapped together, connecting to The Boyfriend’s
motherboard.
In the day, The Boyfriend was also Therapist Prototype VII—a smart robotic massager
that would knead problematic spots at your command, learning your preferred
pressures, listening to sounds and commands so it could optimize the massage session.
And Perry had a meeting with the project’s grant sponsors in an hour.
He switched The Boyfriend’s program over to Therapist Prototype VII’s, checked the
connections to make sure everything was secure, then powered it on, running through
the new progress milestones he’d reached this month.
Then he slipped a pale blue silicone skin over the machine—similar to The Boyfriend’s,
but fancier.
He felt as though he was looking in a mirror. With the removal of some surface parts,
The Boyfriend had turned into a whole new creature. Like FrogPrince100, and Perry
Larkin.
“I guess we both have dirty secrets,” Perry told his brainchild.
He spritzed the office with scent suppressants, did the same on his own clothes, then
straightened his shirt.
A knock came on the door. Perry frowned—he didn’t have a consultation slot
scheduled for right now. “Yes?”
The door opened, and Micah Davis poked his head in. “Hi,” Micah said, giving a
hesitant smile. “Do you have a moment?”
Perry held his breath. Although he and Micah were both professors in the science
department, they didn’t regularly cross paths. Perry belonged with the computer
science professors, and Micah, with the chemistry department. So... they were more of
acquaintances, than anything else.
Worse, Micah was York’s dad.
Perry gulped, grinning too brightly. “Can I help you with something?”
“Actually, yes.” Micah looked sheepish. “I was wondering if you knew where I could
get, ah, personalized massagers? Custom ones. I heard you were the person to ask.”
Perry glanced at Therapist Prototype VII, sitting large and bulky on his desk. “You
mean, something like this?”
Micah limped into the office and closed the door. Like Perry, he was small with narrow
shoulders, his gardenia scent layered with two other woodsy scents—from his alphas.
Micah had terrible burn scars covering half his face. Perry had never envied him for
that. Except last year, Micah had married not one, but two alphas, and York had walked
his dad down the aisle.
Perry had seen the way those alphas looked at Micah—like he was the most important
person in the world. And he’d wondered if that had even been real. If it was possible
for an alpha to look at someone with that much devotion. Maybe he’d been seeing
things.
But Micah looked... happy.
“I was thinking of a smaller one,” Micah said with a blush. “Something that might wrap
around a knot.”
Perry stared. Well, that was uncommon. “You mean, it expands with the knot?”
“Yes.” Micah blushed harder. “I’m not sure how that would work—it’s really not my
specialty. Do you think... How can I get my hands on something like that?”
It sounded like an interesting project. “There are currently a few patents for knot-
vibrators, that I’ve seen,” Perry said slowly. “Give me some time to look, and I’ll get
back to you?”
Micah brightened. “Thanks. I’ll owe you lunch.” He tucked some stray hairs behind his
ear, his wedding band gleaming under the office lights.
His heart twinging, Perry dragged his gaze away. Micah hadn’t been this content before
he’d found his alphas. Maybe he’d just been lucky. “What’s it like to be married?” Perry
blurted.
Micah had been about to leave. He paused at the door, his smile turning warm. “It feels
like I’ve found home,” Micah said. “It feels like it’s okay to be myself again.”
What did that even feel like? Perry glanced at Therapist Prototype VII, and remembered
York sitting at his kitchen table with Caleb.
Gods, what would Micah think, if he knew York had a son? If he knew Perry had slept
with York, and then left him? Micah would get angry too, wouldn’t he? Guilt and fear
tightened around Perry’s heart.
“I’m happy for you,” Perry mumbled.
Micah flashed a smile, before leaving the office. That left Perry with his massager
prototype, feeling more lonely than he had before.
He packed the machine into its cardboard box, not taping it up—it was a short drive to
the office where his sponsors operated. It would just be tedious for him to open it up
again.
As Perry made his way down the building stairwell, he thought about York and Caleb.
He thought about York sitting next to his son, just... being a good dad. York feeding
Caleb, chatting with him, as though he’d always belonged in Caleb’s life.
It made Perry’s heart thump, at the same time it made his stomach clench.
York was... adorable. Someone Perry had admired from afar. And now that he was just
within reach, Perry couldn’t get enough of him. Except it was all wrong, because at
some point, the dream would end, and York would hurt Perry like all those other
alphas had.
He missed a step. The ground fell out from under him. Perry cried out, his stomach
plummeting, the box with his precious machine flying out of his hands.
With a terrible clanking sound, the box tumbled down the stairs. Perry fell hard on the
concrete steps, pain shooting up his tailbone. But he didn’t care about that—he cared
about the machine more.
He scrambled down the stairs, dirt sticking to his fingers, his body protesting with jolts
of pain.
At the stair landing, Therapist Prototype VII lay on its side, its mechanical arms bent
out of shape. It whirred, but its movements were jagged and strained, like something
had gone wrong.
The meeting was in half an hour. Perry couldn’t possibly show this to his grant
sponsors.
Worse—if he couldn’t fix it in time... Who would he spend his heat with?
I T WAS LATE into the evening when York woke. The shift yesterday had been brutal—
three back-to-back calls, fires that took hours to put out, and the summer heat had all
but baked York alive.
He’d gotten home, showered, and then collapsed into bed. Slept for eleven hours
straight, it looked like.
York rolled himself out of bed, stretching. Checked his phone. There were no messages,
as usual, but maybe... he’d been hoping to hear from Perry.
Before his shift yesterday, he’d slipped a note into Perry’s mailbox. Here’s my number in
case you need any help.
He didn’t know why he’d done it. Or maybe he did, and he was just pretending he
didn’t care about that professor. Just pretending he wouldn’t check his phone, hoping
Perry would say hi.
Well, Perry hadn’t. York had last seen him three days ago.
“Time to move on,” York said. The less of an attachment he formed, the less he’d get
hurt when Perry decided to leave, too.
Except he was hoping... well. That maybe Perry would like to see him again.
After York had hugged Perry, and Perry had cried into his shoulder, York couldn’t help
the surge of protectiveness that rose in his chest whenever he thought about that
professor.
He’d known that Perry needed someone. He’d read the desire in that omega. But
holding Perry, feeling the way he fit into York’s arms just right... York had been
reluctant to let him go.
Maybe he was still projecting his feelings for FrogPrince onto Perry Larkin. But it was
there, it was undeniable, and York couldn’t help it.
He splashed water onto his face, then changed into a tank top, shorts, and jogging
shoes. Took the stairwell down to the ground level, then made his way around the
apartment complex, spiraling out to cover the rest of the neighborhood. When he’d
done five miles, he circled back to the apartment complex, toweling off his sweat.
The streetlamps lit the playground nestled between the buildings. Under their orange
glow, York spotted a familiar man on a bench, and a small child riding on a spring-
loaded rocking horse.
Logic told him to go home. Perry hadn’t responded to his note. He probably didn’t
want to speak with York. But what if Perry had missed it? York held his breath, making
his way over to the playground.
Perry didn’t even hear him until York sat next to him on the bench. Then he jumped,
glancing up.
Gods, Perry looked terrible. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and he
had trouble focusing on York. His gaze kept slipping down to York’s sweaty chest, as
though it were a pillow Perry could sleep on.
“Hey,” York said, trying not to growl. Had something bad happened to the professor?
“You doing okay?”
Perry shrugged, looking tiredly back at Caleb. “I think so.”
“What happened?”
Perry sighed. “Work stuff. I don’t think you want to know.”
“Try me.”
Perry buried his face in his hands, so York shuffled closer, taking it upon himself to
watch over Perry’s kid. “I broke The Boyfriend.”
Something growled in York’s chest. “You have a boyfriend?”
“The, um.” Perry’s ears turned red. “That machine. I, um.” He twisted his fingers into
his hair. “I, um, I call it The—The Boyfriend.”
“Oh.” And now York could see why. He felt a bit silly, growling over that. Why the hell
would he feel that way? He barely knew this omega. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I dropped it. I messed up big time. I... I had a meeting with my sponsors a couple days
back. I’ve been trying to fix it. It’s not working.”
“Maybe you need to take a break and rest.”
“But I—” Perry bit his words off, rubbing his face. “I need it really soon.”
“Can’t they wait?”
“No.”
Perry hunched, looking so dejected that York felt bad for him. York set a hand on his
shoulder. When that didn’t garner a reaction, he slid his arm across Perry’s shoulders,
pulling him closer. Perry stiffened.
“Is that why you didn’t answer my note?” York asked, daring to hope.
“Note?” Perry’s gaze flickered up to meet his.
“Yeah. I left a note in your mailbox.”
“Oh. I... forgot to check. I’ve been distracted. Sorry.”
So Perry wasn’t outright rejecting him. That wasn’t so bad.
“What was in the note?” Perry asked quietly.
Okay, now York’s face was burning. “I just—I dropped my number in your mailbox.
Just in case you needed to contact me. For emergencies.”
“Oh.” Perry blinked a couple times. Then York’s words sank in, and he looked away,
his entire face turning bright red. “That’s... kind of you.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I mean, I might need to, um, contact you. Just in case the rest of my bathroom caves
in.”
“I’ll be sure to lay out more mattresses for you.”
Perry chuckled then, mirth flashing through his eyes. Then he laughed harder, pressing
his arm against his belly. He leaned into York’s side, giggling helplessly, almost
hysterical. He looked like he desperately needed it.
So York held him, stroking his back, keeping an eye on Caleb, who was clambering up
some steps to a slide. Caleb slid down with a squeal, and Perry glanced up, some of his
laughter fading.
“I haven’t been so good to Caleb lately,” Perry mumbled. “I’ve been struggling with the
repairs.”
“I could keep an eye on him, if you want.”
Perry’s mouth fell open, almost in dismay. “No. I can’t possibly—”
“I’ve been babysitting my sister,” York said dryly. “She’s two, so I think I’ve got enough
experience.”
Perry bit his lip, looking like he wanted to decline York’s offer. “I... I guess you could.”
He was giving in faster than York anticipated. “That desperate, huh?”
“Kind of.” Perry winced. “I’m on a bit of a deadline.”
“When is it?”
“Next week.”
He fidgeted, his face turning red again, but he didn’t explain himself. York assumed it
was because Perry wasn’t comfortable with receiving York’s help. “Whenever you
want,” York said. “I could text you my schedule.”
“I guess,” Perry mumbled, looking down with a rosy flush. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I don’t usually see you here in the evenings.”
Perry shrugged. “I was late. We usually come downstairs sooner.”
He hadn’t squirmed away from York’s arm on his shoulder, so York stroked down his
back, just tracing the dip of his spine. Perry had nice lips. They were full, his lower lip
jutting out like it was inviting York to suck on it. Sink his teeth in, test the way it gave.
Or maybe he’d lick those lips first, push his tongue into Perry’s mouth, and taste him.
What would Perry taste like? More importantly, what would his lips feel like against
York’s?
York dragged his gaze away. I’ve gone crazy. I don’t even know this guy. I just started
talking to him a few days ago.
All the same, Perry felt familiar. Maybe it was the way he wasn’t coming on to York, or
the way he was trying so hard to keep his distance, except he couldn’t.
Perry reminded York of FrogPrince—where FrogPrince had asked about York’s scrapes
when he’d fallen off his bike, Perry had pulled out his first aid kit to remove the
splinters. Where FrogPrince had laughed at York’s jokes, Perry had giggled, and he’d
smiled. Where FrogPrince had been encouraging, Perry treated his son with kindness.
Oddly enough, they’d both taught at the college at some point, except FrogPrince had
quit teaching. Had FrogPrince returned to the college? What if Perry had known that
bastard at some point? He was old enough to have. York’s breath stuck in his throat.
“Hey,” he said, his heart thumping.
Perry nodded off, snuffling when he jerked too far forward.

York pulled Perry against himself, so Perry could lean against him if he wanted. Perry
rested his head against York’s shoulder, his breathing even. He’d fallen back asleep.
“Perry,” York murmured. “I knew someone in the college a few years back. Maybe you
might’ve known him?”
Perry mumbled something; York leaned closer. “Soon,” Perry said, his eyelids
fluttering.
“Soon what?” York curved his arm around Perry’s back, tucking Perry’s head against
his shoulder so he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck.
“Heat.” Perry’s brow furrowed. “Next... Next week.”
York’s thoughts raced. “Is that why you need to repair that... that Boyfriend thing so
soon?”
“Mm.” Perry nuzzled York’s shoulder, his breath falling warm on York’s throat, an
intimate touch.
York gulped. He hadn’t anticipated this. Holding Perry, having Perry’s breath caress his
skin. Perry hadn’t exactly consented to this.
Okay, I’m not thinking sex thoughts. I’m not. Gotta think about something else. York watched
over Caleb, pulling Perry close when the summer breeze curled around them. Caleb
clambered into a rocking car, yelling as he spun the plastic steering wheel.
Some time later, Perry stirred against York, his lips parting. “York.” His voice slipped
into a throaty moan. “York, please. Need you.”
Those words went straight to York’s cock.
Perry moaned, his fingers twitching, his nostrils flaring. “York, more.”
And now Perry smelled faintly like musk. Fuck, he was dreaming about York, wasn’t
he?
Was that what Perry wanted in real life? York touching him?
His throat growing dry, York dragged his eyes away. Perry would go into heat soon. It
was why he was scrambling to get his machine fixed. He didn’t want to fuck York
during his heat.
But what if... he wanted York anyway? What if only York could sate Perry’s heat? Drive
deep into him, make him shudder and scream? So his flushed cock spurted all over the
bed?
“We should get you home,” York rasped, his cock straining behind his shorts. Bad
enough that he’d been jerking off to fantasies about Perry Larkin. He didn’t need to
imagine Perry in heat, too.
Except it would be so nice, wouldn’t it, having Perry wet for York? Perry presenting for
him, begging York to fill his hole?
“Fuck,” York hissed, shoving down at his cock. He didn’t need to spring a hard-on in
public. He was just projecting his old love onto Perry. And Perry didn’t ask for that.
Louder, he said, “Hey, Caleb. Let’s go home. Your dad’s fallen asleep.”
Caleb looked up, trying to climb off his rocking car. Then he seemed to decide it was
better to wait for the car to stop.
York gathered Perry into his arms; Perry stirred, his eyes snapping open. “What—What
happened? York?”
Perry glanced around confusedly, before his attention locked onto York. And he flushed
a bright red, looking away. He remembered his dream, then. York’s pulse thumped
between his legs.
“Sweet dreams?” York growled.
“I, um.” Perry grew redder yet. “It was—not a bad dream. Why? Did I say—Oh, gods,
please tell me I didn’t say anything.”
York debated on telling him the truth. In the end, he said, “I could lie, or I could tell you
exactly what you said.”
“Was it... inappropriate?”
“Yeah. Very.” York couldn’t help the way his voice slipped lower.
Perry’s mouth fell open; he looked horrified. “No. Don’t tell me. I, um. Whatever it was,
it was entirely unintentional.”
“Sure.” But York made sure to meet Perry’s gaze.
Whatever he saw in York’s eyes, it sent a rosy flush up Perry’s throat. York wanted to
growl and pin him against the playground bench, kiss down his throat. Touch that
bulge growing between Perry’s legs.
Instead, he pulled Perry to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Do you need to borrow
my bathroom?”
Perry flushed harder. “No, no. We’ve had a shower today. It’s all good. Thanks for
offering.”
He swayed a little; York slid his arm around Perry’s waist, holding him close so he
wouldn’t fall.
Mine, something in York’s chest said. And that felt right, even if the idea was ridiculous.
Perry reached behind, rubbing his ass. “I sat the wrong way. Now my tailbone hurts.”
“What happened?” York glanced behind, as though Perry’s clothes would magically
disappear.
“I fell down the stairs and bruised my tailbone.” Perry winced. Sounded like it hurt.
“It’s how I messed up my—my machine.”
“The Boyfriend.”
Perry blushed again.
Damn, he got flustered real easily. It was... kind of cute. York wet his lips, wanting to
lean in. He wanted Perry closer. Didn’t know why. But something about this omega... It
was difficult to stay away.
Worse, Perry smelled completely like tulip, with no alpha scent. He’d smell good with a
trace of hickory on him. Maybe some musk, too. And some lovebites on his neck.
I really need to stop thinking. York cleared his throat. “I could take a look at the bruise, if
you need.”
Perry blinked. Then he seemed to realize what York had offered, because he laughed
breathlessly. “Would you?”
Pulling off Perry’s clothes? Looking at his bare ass? “Yeah,” York growled. “I would.”
Perry’s entire face turned crimson. “I—I was just kidding.” He pulled away from York,
holding his arms out to Caleb. “Time to go home, hon!”
As Caleb raced toward them, York said in an undertone, “I wasn’t kidding.”
Perry’s throat worked; his chest heaved. And musk coiled off his skin.
Gods, if this was Perry Larkin without his heat, what would he be like next week?
Chances were, York wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off this omega. It was far too
soon to ruin things between them. York cleared his throat.
“Maybe we should, um, part ways here,” Perry said, looking nervous, his pupils blown.
“Yeah,” York said. “I’ve got a snake to deal with.”
“Snake?” Perry frowned.
York glanced down, at the erection he was casually holding down with his wrist. So he
wouldn’t tent his shorts.
Perry followed his gaze; his breath punched out of his chest. And his musk coiled ever
thicker between them. “I-I have to go,” Perry all but squeaked. “See you around.”
He hurried away with Caleb. Caleb turned, waving at York.
York waved back, that same something growling in his chest. He wasn’t comfortable
with Perry leaving. But he’d learned more about that omega, and... it was a good trade-
off.
Perry wasn’t FrogPrince. He didn’t seem the type to want to hurt York. It seemed as
though he was too afraid to.
But York should heed the warnings from his past. He wasn’t supposed to get involved
with Perry at all.
T HE B OYFRIEND WAS STILL BROKEN . Perry dragged his sweaty forearm over his face,
frustration building in his chest.
He was four days into his heat. Hunger coursed through his veins like lava, seeping
through his body, so intense that it made his teeth ache. His dreams at night had all
been of York. York bending him over, York pinning him down, sinking his teeth into
Perry’s skin. York ripping Perry’s clothes off, grasping Perry’s cock, stroking him over
and over.
Perry shuddered, trying to clear his mind. Except that brought him back to the lump of
metal on the coffee table, its circuits shot, the program board unresponsive.
For a whole week, Perry had been trying to fix his machine, except something or other
kept breaking. If it wasn’t a bent memory board, then it was loose connections, or
twisted anchors. The Boyfriend needed a major overhaul, and Perry couldn’t focus on
anything aside from having a big, thick cock inside his ass.
“Your ice cream’s melting, Daddy,” Caleb said, peering into Perry’s bowl.
Perry felt like melting, too. The summer temperatures weren’t helping at all. He wiped
his greasy hands off on a rag, spooning some mint chocolate chip ice cream into his
mouth. It was a little foamy, almost completely melted, and very sweet. Mint tingled his
taste buds.
“How’s your ice cream?” Perry asked, glancing into Caleb’s bowl.
“Melted.” Caleb pulled a face. “It’s not icy anymore.”
“That’s all you’re getting for tonight,” Perry told him. “We don’t have any left.”
Caleb’s little shoulders sagged.
Perry felt slightly bad for him. “Maybe we’ll get more tomorrow.”
“Yay!” Caleb abandoned his bowl of melted ice cream, tearing off through the
apartment.
Perry made himself disassemble The Boyfriend, trying to find a quick fix.
Or he could just reach into the box he’d hidden away in his closet—there were some
silicone dildos there, but it would all be elbow grease. Manual dildo-fucking was no
good; it only reminded Perry that he was scratching his own itch, instead of
something—someone—else touching him.
He squeezed around the small glass plug he’d inserted to keep his slick inside. A lot
had accumulated, probably. Enough to go through a round of fucking, or three. York
would probably want to see it.
Stop thinking about him. Perry groaned, clenching around the plug. It sat inside his body,
solid and small, nothing like an alpha’s cock. Which was the point, because Perry didn’t
need to get distracted by that.
On TV, the news anchor droned. Then it cut to product ads—something about icy
sparkling water, and a broad-shouldered alpha emptying a glass of water over his head.
Glittering liquid sluiced down his skin.
Caleb raced over, his eyes wide as he watched the man. “Why’s he doing that?”
“To cool off,” Perry answered.
“Why?”
“Because the water’s cold. And when it touches hot skin, it’ll evaporate, which will also
make you cool.”
Caleb thought about that. Then he took his bowl of melted ice cream, and poured it all
over his head. The goop went everywhere—down Caleb’s face and back, dripping
thickly onto the floor.
Perry stared in horror. “Caleb!”
Caleb giggled. “It’s cold! D’you want ice cream too, Daddy?”
Then Caleb reached for Perry’s bowl, and upended it down Perry’s front. Sticky, thick
fluid trickled down his chest. It was cold, in a gloopy sort of way. Perry’s nipples
tightened.
He stared at the mess on himself, laughing helplessly. “We just showered, Caleb. Now
we’re dirty again.”
“We can shower again.” Caleb smiled. “With York?”
Oh, gods. No. But Perry’s cock stirred; his heat pressed beneath his skin, eager to have
York nearby. He hadn’t forgotten the look York had given him last week, at the
playground. York overhearing whatever Perry had mumbled during his dream.
York had looked like he’d wanted to devour Perry whole. For the past few days, Perry
had avoided him like the plague, checking the hallways, taking the stairwell instead of
the elevator so he wouldn’t somehow bump into that alpha.
If he met York now... His entire body tautened. His heat pulsed in his gut. Perry bit
down his groan, watching as Caleb smeared ice cream all over his glasses.
They had to wake early tomorrow. If they went to bed any later, Caleb would wake up
cranky, and no one needed that. Perry rubbed his face. “We should go to the college
gym.”
Even as he said it, he knew he had no desire to drive all the way there. Not when York
had offered, when his number sat in Perry’s phone, untouched.
York was home. Perry had heard the muffled thuds of doors closing. All it would take
was one text.
He closed his eyes and picked up his phone. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
With sticky ice cream soaking through his shirt, Perry tapped on York’s name. Then he
typed a quick text. Hi. Caleb dumped ice cream all over himself. Would you mind if we stop by
to give him a quick shower?
Then he dropped the phone face-down and closed his eyes, his heart thumping, his
cock growing hard behind his pants. He’d sent York a text. During his heat, of all times.
Perry pushed himself to his feet, heading to Caleb’s room to grab his PJs and a towel.
Somehow or other, they would find Caleb a shower.
Caleb was licking the ice cream out of his bowl when Perry returned to the living room.
Perry sighed, wiping up the spills with paper towels. At least the floor wasn’t carpet.
“You got a message,” Caleb said, pointing at Perry’s phone.
Perry’s stomach flipped. He held his breath, grabbing the phone off the coffee table.
1 message received.
His cock throbbed. Perry opened the message, laughing at the brevity of it.
Sure. Come by anytime.
It was just like York to say that. And now Perry’s insides tightened, his hole growing
slippery around the glass plug. He gulped. “Ready for a shower, hon?”
Caleb nodded, setting the bowl down. So Perry gathered Caleb’s things under his arm,
shoved his phone into his pocket, and led his son out of the apartment.
The trip downstairs took no time at all. Perry only remembered the ice cream stains on
his own shirt when they stopped in front of York’s apartment, but it was too late to turn
back at that point.
Caleb hammered on the door with his tiny fists. “York!”
“Shh.” Perry winced. “That’s rude, Caleb. We’re guests. We should press the doorbell.
We need to be polite.”
The door opened as he said that. York stood in the doorway, dressed in a tank top that
barely hid his pecs and broad shoulders. His shorts clung to his hips, his cock faintly
outlined by the material. Gods, Perry could see the curve of York’s tip. It looked like it
would be delicious to suck on.
York cleared his throat. Perry snapped his gaze back up, his face burning.
“Real polite of you to hand out visual exams,” York said dryly, but he was grinning.
“Do I pass?”
Perry spluttered. I can’t believe I stared at him for so long. “I, um. I was just, um. You aren’t
wearing shoes.”
Yes, York passed. York had passed with such flying colors, that Perry’s ass ached with
how much slick he was producing.
“C’mon in,” York said, stepping back to allow them through. As Perry passed him,
York’s nostrils flared; his chest expanded. He was sniffing at Perry, and he had to have
smelled the musk of Perry’s heat. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” York rumbled.
His voice stroked down Perry’s spine, to his balls, making his cock ache. Perry gulped,
shoving the clothes against his hips. York didn’t need to see his uncontrollable desire.
“We, ah. We’ve been busy.”
“Got your boyfriend fixed?” York asked, his dark gaze sweeping down Perry’s front.
Perry blushed. “It’s taking a while.”
“I see.” York’s voice dipped lower.
So now York knew that Perry hadn’t been fucked, and Perry didn’t know what to think
of that. He waved toward the master bedroom. “Mind if we, ah...”
“Go ahead.”
Perry tugged Caleb into the bathroom, out of York’s sight. And then he could breathe
again.
“Do you like York?” Caleb asked, looking owlishly at Perry.
Perry’s entire head scorched. “Wh-why would you think that?”
“You get red. Like Jenny!”
Perry frowned, confused. “Jenny? You mean from Meadowfall Tots?”
“Yeah! Jenny gets red when... when Bobby says she gonna marry Sue. Are you gonna
marry York?”
Perry choked out a laugh. “Of course not.”
“But you like York.” Caleb smeared more ice cream over his cheek.
“We’re just friends.” If he could even call it that. “Let’s get you all clean again. No more
dumping ice cream on your head, okay?”
“But the guy on TV did it!”
“Someone had to clean the wet floor after he did that,” Perry said, helping Caleb out of
his clothes. “He made a big mess.”
“Can York make a big mess?” Caleb asked.
The question had been innocent. But Perry remembered York from years back,
smearing his precome down Perry’s asscrack, wiping Perry’s come all over his stomach.
That had been a mess. And the memory of that mess made Perry’s hole squeeze.
“Well, this is his home,” Perry said. “He can make a mess if he wants.”
Caleb thought about it, scrunching up his face. Gods, he was adorable. If Perry had the
chance to conceive another baby, if he somehow slept with York again... their second
child would be just as adorable, wouldn’t it?
And York would be twice as furious with him.
Perry’s insides clenched. Maybe he could sleep with York, and disappear again. It had
worked once. Except he would be uprooting Caleb, upsetting his routine. Perry couldn’t
be selfish again. All because he was in heat.
And his thoughts splashed back into the gutter. York’s slippery cock dipping into his
ass, pulling out, sliding back in, claiming Perry thoroughly inside. Perry sucked in a
deep breath, shoving those thoughts out of his head.
By the time he’d gotten Caleb dried and dressed, he was no better than before. His shirt
stuck to his skin, and the steam from the shower clung to him.
When he opened the door, he found York leaning against the master bedroom wall.
Perry jumped, his heart thudding. “I—didn’t expect you to be waiting. Sorry.”
York glanced up, tucking his phone away. He was still in that damning tank top and
shorts, and Perry wanted to press up against him, rub his entire body against York’s
bare skin.
York looked him over, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t shower?”
Perry shook his head vigorously. “No, no. This is just for Caleb.”
“What about you?” York raked his gaze down Perry’s chest. “I won’t be using that
bathroom yet.”
Perry squirmed under his attention. A shower would feel good. “I didn’t bring my
clothes,” he mumbled.
“You could borrow mine. Here.” York disappeared out of the bedroom. Then he
reappeared with a towel and some clothes.
He set the bundle firmly in Perry’s hands; Perry gulped. Perry wanted to press his face
against the fabric and fill his lungs. He wanted York’s scent to envelope him. “But
Caleb,” Perry said lamely.
“I’ll tire him out for a bit.” York glanced at Perry’s hips, where Perry’s cock had shoved
against his pants.
Perry fought the urge to cover up. York was looking. And Perry wanted to show York
his cock, at the same time he wanted to pretend it wasn’t leaking and needy and
completely at York’s mercy.
“You want him going to bed soon, don’t you?” York asked, his gaze dark and hungry.
Perry’s blood swooped between his legs. Was he really that obvious? “Caleb, play with
York for a bit, okay?” he croaked, leaning in to drop a kiss on Caleb’s head. “I’ll grab a
quick shower, and then we’ll go home.”
Caleb nodded. “Okay.”
Perry ducked back into the bathroom and locked himself in. Only then did he press his
face into York’s clothes, breathing in laundry detergent, and a faint hint of hickory.
York smelled so good. Perry’s cock ached.
He struggled out of his clothes. Left the plug inside. Got into the shower and turned it
on cold, so it would dampen his desire somehow.
Like things usually turned out for Perry, the cold shower didn’t help at all. He scrubbed
at the sticky sweetness of the ice cream. He lathered soap over himself, then rinsed and
dried off, trying to ignore the way his cock strained, seeking an alpha. York.
He was in York’s apartment, and the way York had breathed him in, the way York’s
gaze had lingered on Perry’s body, as though he were mentally stripping him... York
had seen Perry naked. He wanted Perry, and Perry was helpless to prevent his own
answering desire.
He fumbled with the pile of clean clothes—York had lent him a long dress shirt and
dark pants. The cotton whispered against Perry’s skin, hanging loosely around his
shoulders.
Perry debated pulling on his underwear. Then he lumped it with the rest of his clothes,
stepping into York’s pants. He zipped it up. His cock dragged against the inside of
York’s pants when he moved, and it felt... forbidden. Intimate.
York’s voice boomed through the apartment when Perry stepped out of the bathroom.
Caleb squealed. His heart thumping, Perry peeked out through the bedroom door.
York was in the living room, lifting Caleb up into the air, then letting him swoop down,
swinging him around and around.
Back when Caleb was a toddler, Perry had done that for his son. Caleb had shrieked
and laughed. But as Caleb had grown older and heavier, Perry hadn’t enough strength
to swing Caleb into the air anymore.
So seeing this now, the way York had found Caleb’s favorite thing, and returned it to
him... It was incredible.
Despite all the alphas he’d met in the past, Perry couldn’t help trusting York, just a little
more. He couldn’t help wanting to step closer.
York turned when Perry approached, meeting his eyes. Perry forgot to breathe. Gods,
York was so handsome, with stubble on his jaw and his gaze so intense. And he was so
strong. Perry’s body ached for him. York’s gaze wandered down the rest of Perry, the
weight of it heavy through Perry’s clothes.
“Ready to go home?” York growled.

“I, um. Sure.” Perry hugged his dirty clothes against himself, feeling far too self-
conscious.
“I’ll accompany you guys upstairs,” York said, licking his lips. His eyes darkened.
Perry knew what it meant. He knew he shouldn’t. And yet he said, “I’d really
appreciate that.”
Perry always made stupid decisions when he was in heat. This time... it seemed that
things were no different at all.
P ERRY WAS WEARING York’s clothes. York couldn’t take his eyes off that omega. His
shirt hung loosely on Perry’s shoulders, and Perry had done something with York’s
pants, so it stayed on his hips somehow, despite its longer legs rumpling around his
ankles.
“Daddy likes you,” Caleb said to York.
Perry made a low, helpless noise in his throat. “Caleb!”
“Yeah?” York’s heart skipped a beat. “You like me?”
Perry flushed, looking awkwardly at his feet. “I like many different things, like trees
and flowers and robots. I guess you’re no different.”
York snorted. “Okay, I’ll be a tree and grow some wood.”
Perry choked. He thumped his chest, looking at the hallway floors as they made their
way to the elevator. He liked York’s wood, didn’t he?
“That’s... not appropriate,” Perry croaked, looking at everything but York. He was
flustered, and adorable, and York wanted to push him up against a wall, rub their cocks
together and make Perry whine. Gods, that would sound so good, coming from Perry.
York fell a step back to adjust his cock. Didn’t want to give anyone else an eyeful. Just
Perry. Well, he’d give Perry a mouthful, too, if Perry wanted. And an ass-full.
“Why, Daddy?” Caleb asked. “What’s appropro... apopiate?”
Perry flushed. “Appropriate. It means ‘right’.”
“So my wood’s not appropriate?” York murmured, catching up with Perry, bumping
into Perry’s arm so his bulge brushed Perry’s skin, ever so slightly. His shorts tightened.
Perry’s eyes grew wide.
“Did you just—” Perry glanced down, then yanked his eyes away, his throat working.
“Gods, York.”
“Too big for you?”
Perry groaned, musk rolling off his skin. “I’m not answering that,” he choked. Then he
turned to Caleb with a smile. “Sometimes, we talk about polite things because we don’t
want people to get mad. York isn’t very polite.”
Yeah, Perry was adorable. He was older than York, and maybe York didn’t know what
to think about that.
Except Perry was so damn responsive. He was hungry, and from the way he kept
glancing at York’s chest, sniffing at York as though he thought he was being discreet...
What would he sound like when he took York’s cock? When York drove into him and
Perry’s voice went high?
“The entire hallway smells like you,” Perry said under his breath, glancing sidelong at
York.
Well, that made York want to preen, too. It meant Perry was smelling him, Perry was
filling his lungs with York’s scent, and with York’s shirt on him, his pants hugging
Perry’s ass...
York adjusted himself again. Perry groaned, tearing his eyes away.
Caleb had raced ahead to press the elevator call button. Then he stomped around,
looking bored. When York and Perry finally reached the elevator lobby, Caleb yawned.
“Tired?” Perry asked his son.
Caleb nodded, blinking sleepily. “Mm-hm.”
“I’ll carry him,” York said. When Perry didn’t protest, York scooped Caleb into his
arms, catching a whiff of his clean soap scent. Perry wore that same scent—York’s soap.
Except on Perry, that smell meant something entirely different. He smelled like he was
almost York’s.
Just a while longer, and maybe Perry would be his for tonight.
They took the elevator up a floor. Got to Perry’s apartment, where Caleb stirred. So
York set him on his feet, and Perry brought Caleb to his bedroom.
“I’ll be right back,” Perry said over his shoulder, wetting his lips.
“I’ll wait.”
Yeah, York would wait. He hadn’t had anyone he was this keen to bed, ever since
FrogPrince.
He still wasn’t sure if what he felt was all because of Perry, or if he was still projecting.
They weren’t in any sort of relationship, though, so it didn’t matter so much.

York glanced at the disassembled machine on the coffee table, and the simple
furnishings in Perry’s home. Adjusted his cock again, almost tempted to take it out.
He’d wait for Perry, though. Needed to know for sure that Perry wanted this.
Then he prowled over to the closed door of Caleb’s bedroom, pausing when it opened
and Perry stepped out.
“He’s asleep?” York asked.
“Almost.” Perry swallowed, shutting the door quietly.
York closed the distance between them, his heart thumping. He’d been thinking about
Perry all week. Ever since that day at the playground, when Perry had moaned his
name.
York had imagined sliding his hands under Perry’s clothes, he’d imagined pushing his
fingers into Perry’s ass, finding that sweet spot inside. He’d imagined fingering it until
Perry creamed himself, then again and again, until Perry was all relaxed, and he could
take a good, hard fucking.
But right now, with all the anticipation of touching Perry, tasting him, York wasn’t sure
he could last very long at all. Especially when Perry’s heat filled York’s lungs with
musk and tulip, and his gaze raked hungrily down York’s chest.
“York,” Perry whispered, flattening himself against the wall.
He almost looked scared, except his nostrils were flared, breathing in all of York.
“Yeah?” York stepped closer, sniffing at Perry, filling his lungs with Perry’s scent. His
cock ached. He wanted to mark Perry. Taste him. Make him scream.
“Caleb’s not asleep yet,” Perry mumbled. “It’ll be a while.”
“Means, what? You’ll bite down your moans?” York stepped closer, until their toes
touched and Perry’s chest was inches from his own, his full lips bitten red, glistening
and inviting.
Perry’s breath rushed out of him. “This is... not appropriate.”
Except Perry’s cock was a hard line behind his pants, his musk like a sledgehammer to
York’s gut.
York traced his thumb down the line of Perry’s straining cock, just a feather-light touch.
Perry’s pupils blew wide; his chest heaved, and he couldn’t stop watching the
movement of York’s thumb. “This... This...”
Fuck, Perry’s hunger. It called to York like a siren, it seeped into York’s veins, and made
his heart pound.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” York rasped, stepping closer, until their bodies brushed
and Perry’s lips were just a hairsbreadth from his own. “Tell me to stop right now,
Perry. Tell me to go home.”
Perry whimpered; the sound went straight to York’s balls, and pulled them tight. York
groaned, grasping Perry’s hand. Then he brought it up between his legs, flattening
Perry’s palm against his covered cock. “This is all for you,” York growled, rutting into
his hand. “If you let me stay, I’m gonna fill you up good and hard.”
Perry choked on his moan. He panted, his fingers closing around York’s cock, dragging
down its entire length. The pleasure sent a jolt up York’s spine.
“Gods,” Perry whispered, his musk thickening, a rosy flush creeping up his neck.
“Too big?” York breathed in Perry’s exhale. Wanted to taste Perry’s lips.
“Fuck. It’s—You’re just right,” Perry whispered, sliding his palm all the way down to
York’s balls. Then he squeezed them, and moaned.
Damn, Perry was going to be loud.
York slipped his arms around Perry, hefting him off the floor. Their chests pressed
together, Perry’s hand trapped between their bodies, shoved against York’s cock. York
groaned; Perry whimpered, and squeezed York harder.
York pulsed. He stopped by the bedroom door, flicking on the light switch. Had to force
himself to shut the door quietly.
“Lights off,” Perry whispered. “Please.”
York gauged the paces to the bed, then obliged. In the darkness, he carried Perry until
their legs bumped the mattress, and Perry squirmed in his arms, his musk thick, his
breathing loud and hungry inches away.
York pressed him down against the mattress, hefted him up to the pillows, and then
grasped Perry’s thighs, pulling his legs open. Perry groaned, spreading them wider. He
wanted York. York grew so hard, he hurt.
“York,” Perry whispered, squeezing York’s thighs, his hands returning between York’s
legs, caressing York’s cock through his shorts. “York, please.”
Perry writhed, and York’s hunger coursed through his veins, made his throat dry. He
pinned Perry down against the mattress, pressing his nose to Perry’s cheek, sniffing
down his throat. Perry’s skin was warm and smooth, and York desperately wanted to
mark him. Make Perry remember his touch.
“Been watching you for so long,” York growled, cupping Perry’s cock.
It jerked against his palm. Perry bucked up, squirming, his breath shuddering out of
him. “York, York—”
“You like this?” York squeezed Perry’s hard length. Perry gasped, his spine bowing.
Gods, he was sensitive. Starving. York wanted to suck Perry’s nipples. Feed Perry his
cock. Good and thoroughly, until he’d filled Perry with his come.
More than that, York wanted to look at him. He wanted to see the pleasure in Perry’s
eyes. He wanted to see the creamy expanse of Perry’s chest, the way he threw his head
back.
York throbbed. “Need to see you. Let me turn on the lights.”
Perry whined. “But—”
“Just for a second. Please.” York kissed up his throat, dropping kisses along Perry’s jaw.
“I want to see all of you. I want to see you take my cock.”
Perry groaned, his musk billowing around York. “Just—Just for a minute.”
York reached for the nightstand, fumbling with the lamp. Couldn’t find the switch.
“Damn it. Help.”
Perry sat up in a rush of tulip and musk, his hand brushing against York. Then
something clicked, and golden lamplight filled the room. Perry’s lips glistened, his hair
was mussed, his cheeks pink. He looked better than he had in York’s fantasies.
York didn’t wait for him to speak. He caught Perry by the nape and hauled him in,
slanting his lips over Perry’s.
Perry’s mouth was exquisite. York traced his tongue over Perry’s soft lower lip, sucking
it into his mouth, raking his teeth over it. He couldn’t have enough.
“Gods,” York whispered, biting Perry’s lip, hard enough for him to cry out. “Been
wanting to taste you.”
“York,” Perry breathed, twisting his fingers into York’s hair.

York sucked on Perry’s lip, memorizing its softness, the way it gave under his teeth. So
damn sweet. Perry groaned and slipped his own tongue into York’s mouth, a soft,
seeking touch. Felt like bliss. York took him in, grinding their tongues together, and
Perry shuddered.
The voice in York’s chest said, Mine.
York devoured Perry. He shoved Perry down against the mattress and slid into his
mouth, opening him. Tasted mint ice cream. Perry writhed, and York claimed his
mouth, plunging his tongue into Perry like how he would fuck Perry’s hole.
Perry whimpered, his nails digging into York’s sides, his chest heaving.
“What do you want?” York whispered into his mouth, grinding their cocks together.
Pleasure thrummed down his nerves. Perry gasped, and York reached down, grasping
Perry’s cock through his pants. Perry jerked, his precome soaking through the fabric.
Gods, York needed to see the rest of him.
He broke the kiss, leaning back. Fumbled with Perry’s pants. When he undid the
button, he realized that Perry had hooked the button through a belt loop to shorten the
waistband, because it wasn’t his own pants he was wearing, but York’s.
He’s wearing my clothes. York’s pulse thumped between his legs, desperate to have this
omega as his own.
He tore open the zipper, only to have Perry’s cock shove out at him, flushed and thick,
his tip pushing hungrily out past his foreskin.
He wasn’t wearing underwear at all.
York panted, staring at Perry in his pants, his shirt, and nothing else.
Something yanked behind his stomach. Need shot down his nerves, straight into his
cock, and his breath punched out of him. York couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He
could only feel his cock thicken, his throat going dry as his balls grew heavy, his skin
too tight.
And now all he could see was Perry, all he needed was to mark Perry, pump into him,
and make him scream.
“Think—Think I’m in a rut,” York rasped, staring at Perry’s cock, then his chest, and his
beautiful face.
Perry’s eyes grew wide. Yeah, York was surprised, too. The only other person he’d gone
into a rut with was FrogPrince, and he’d been in love with that guy.
He wasn’t in love with Perry. But... He felt something for this omega. Enough to want to
claim Perry as his own.
“You...” Perry squirmed, reaching down to cover his cock. “You’re imagining things,”
he croaked.
A tendril of anger coiled through York’s insides. Was Perry really denying York’s
attraction to him?
“Tell me you’re imagining this,” York growled, shoving his shorts down. His cock
sprang up, thicker than it was moments ago. “Tell me this isn’t bigger now.”
Perry raked his gaze down York’s cock, his breath shuddering out of him. He made a
soft, helpless noise—and his cock jerked, clear fluid dripping from his tip.
His hunger erased York’s anger completely.
“You want me,” York rasped, leaning back in, grinding their bare cocks together. Bliss
shot down his spine; Perry hissed, his mouth falling open.
“York—”
“What do you want?” York breathed, leaning closer, pressing his cock against Perry’s
smaller erection. Then he closed his fist around them both, held them together, and
rolled his hips, their most sensitive parts rubbing together, his own precome dripping
onto Perry’s cock.
Perry whimpered. York swallowed hard, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he
rocked against Perry, and Perry moaned into York’s mouth, his cock jerking, his entire
body writhing like he needed touch.
York’s whole body thrummed. He released Perry’s cock, sliding his hand up under
Perry’s shirt. Just touching his smooth belly, his stomach, his thin chest. Perry’s nipples
had tightened. When York tweaked one pebbled nipple, Perry threw his head back, his
legs spreading wider.
York’s cock grew so full, it fucking hurt. Gods, he wanted to see all of Perry. Then he
wanted to fit his cock into Perry, and massage him inside until Perry shot all over, that
sweet voice music to York’s ears. He withdrew his hand. Grasped both edges of Perry’s
too-large shirt and ripped it open, threads snapping, buttons popping off.
Perry yelped. His chest was flushed, all pale skin with a myriad of silvery scars across
his chest and belly. For a moment, York grew angry again—Was this why Perry had
been so jittery around York? Because he’d been hurt?
But the look in Perry’s eyes—there was only need in them, and trust.
They weren’t talking about the scars right now. York leaned in, plunging back into
Perry’s mouth to claim him again. To show Perry who he belonged to. Perry groaned,
taking all of York, his fingers desperate on York’s skin.
York broke the kiss, trailing biting kisses down Perry’s sleek throat. He sucked on the
skin just beneath Perry’s ear. Perry arched up; York didn’t release him. He sucked on
that spot, raking it over with his teeth, until Perry whimpered and York knew he’d left
broken capillaries and a visible marking. His.
Because if York was going to sleep with Perry, then he sure as hell wanted Perry to
remember this tomorrow. He wanted Perry to look at himself in the mirror, and know
York had claimed him. That York had pleasured him, made him come.
Most of all, when York glimpsed Perry again, he’d know that tonight hadn’t been a
dream.
He kissed down Perry’s neck, and sucked another marking into Perry’s skin, then a
third. Perry thrashed beneath him, his fingers skimming down York’s abs, tugging up
York’s tank top so he caressed bare skin. York sat up, ripping his top off.
From his spot on the bed, Perry raked his gaze down York’s chest, moaning softly. That
just made York leak.
“You like?” he growled.
Perry nodded, his cock jerking with approval. The beast in York’s chest rumbled. He
leaned in, kissing down Perry’s clavicles, sucking a ring of markings into Perry’s skin.
At the same time, he stroked down Perry’s chest, down his flat belly, and grasped
Perry’s cock.
Perry’s spine bowed; he sucked in air and thrust up, his precome smearing down the
inside of York’s fist. Gods, York had never seen anyone this desperate before. With the
exception of FrogPrince.
He stroked up Perry’s cock, Perry’s silky skin deliciously soft. Then, still stroking, York
leaned in, completing the ring of markings around Perry’s throat.
By the time he finished that last sucking kiss, Perry was panting, his eyes half-lidded,
his pupils so blown that there was only a thin ring of green around them. Fuck, he
looked good.
“York,” Perry whispered. “Please.”
York cupped Perry’s ass, searching for a damp spot on his pants. Oddly, he didn’t find
any. Then he curved his fingers harder, right where Perry’s hole was.
Through the fabric, he found a flat, hard disk, where the pucker of muscle should be.
York glanced up; Perry looked away, his face red. He’d been wearing a plug this whole
time? York’s breath punched out of him.
“I—The mess,” Perry blurted, shoving at his pants. “Didn’t want a—a mess.”
York shoved Perry’s legs together, and ripped his pants off Perry’s legs. Flung the pants
off the bed.
When Perry spread his legs again, the plug glinted between his asscheeks. York grasped
Perry’s knees, shoving them open. Perry whined, throwing his hands between his legs
to cover himself.
“You’re embarrassed now?” York rasped, tugging gently at Perry’s wrist. He needed to
see that plug again. He wanted to see Perry’s hole spread open around a toy he’d put
inside himself.
Perry’s blush crept up to his hairline. “You’re looking at me.”
York growled, pulling Perry’s hands off, leaving his flushed cock bare, his balls tight.
Between Perry’s asscheeks sat the base of a see-through plug, Perry’s hole squeezed
around it.
Desire rushed headily through York’s veins. He wanted a taste. Gods, he wanted to see
Perry stretch around him. “Holding yourself open for me?”
Perry groaned, hiding his face in embarrassment. “I... I...”
York closed his fingers around the base of the plug, tugging lightly on it. It didn’t give;
Perry was tight around it. The plug was small, too. York’s cock was a lot bigger.
How tightly would Perry’s ass squeeze around him? York groaned, shuffling closer,
propping Perry’s hips on his own thighs, letting Perry’s legs spread wide open. Like a
feast laid out before York. Perry whimpered, covering his cock again.
York growled, pumping his own cock. “Don’t hide from me.”
Y ORK HEFTED Perry’s hips higher. Pulled Perry’s hands off his cock. That thick length
strained up at York, begging for his touch. Perry whimpered. York throbbed, Perry’s
musk almost bowling him over.
He brought Perry’s hips up to his face. Licked up the silky underside of Perry’s cock,
tasting a hint of sweat and musk. Perry groaned low in his throat; his cock jerked. Then
York leaned in and took Perry’s tip into his mouth, and Perry’s chest heaved.
“York,” he choked, at the same time warm fluid squirted across York’s tongue.
For a moment, York thought Perry had come. But he rolled the flavor around inside his
mouth, and decided it was Perry’s precome.
Perry covered his face, whimpering softly, his entire body quivering.
“Don’t like?” York asked, his lips dragging around Perry’s cock.
“No—Yes. I mean—” Perry whined, peeking through a crack in his fingers.
Gods, he was adorable. York’s heart thumped; his cock pulsed, eager to sink into this
man. Pleasure him, fade Perry’s worries away.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” York growled. “Yes, or no?”
Perry groaned, a rosy flush spreading across his chest. “Yes. Please.”
Fuck. York’s cock jerked, growing even thicker, until it felt like it might burst. He
needed to contain it inside Perry. Let Perry feel just how much York needed him.
York palmed his cock to ease the aching pressure. Then he took Perry deep into his
mouth, sucking on his hot, desperate cock.
Perry jerked violently. A ragged cry tore past his lips, and he tensed, streams of bitter
fluid jetting down York’s throat. Now Perry was coming, and he shoved his hand
against his mouth, stifling his cries, quivering so hard he almost shook out of York’s
grasp.
York continued to suck him through his climax. And after that, too, when Perry was
oversensitive, still trembling with the force of his release.
“York,” Perry gasped, shoving at him. “Please.”

Instead, York lapped long and slow up Perry’s cock, rolling the bitterness of Perry’s
taste through his mouth. “Mm?”
Perry shuddered, his skin damp with sweat, his chest heaving. “I... Too much.”
So York decided to let him recover. He lowered Perry onto the mattress, pushed Perry’s
knee up against his chest to spread him, and grasped the base of his plug.
It slid out a little ways; the climax had loosened Perry’s body.
Perry’s hole opened as York pulled on the plug, the pink muscle stretching. The same
way it would open around York’s cock, sucking him inside.
York groaned, watching as Perry’s hole clung to the plug’s tapered tip, all the way until
it left his ass completely. Then he sniffed at the plug—so much musk.
“Gonna take my cock now,” York growled, lifting Perry’s other knee, bending him
almost in half so his hole opened right beneath York, dark and inviting. York groaned,
leaking, his balls pulling tight.
Perry whimpered, his eyes slipping shut. “Please.”
York couldn’t help smiling. “Once not enough for you?”
“I need—need you inside.” Perry flushed and glanced away.
“I’m gonna pound hard. Might break your bed.”
“I don’t care.” Perry’s chest grew redder. “Please. Just—Just take what you want.”
York’s breath rushed out of him. “You’re gonna scream. I’m bigger than your plug.”
“Even better.”
York sniffed deeply at Perry, squeezing his thighs, rubbing his thumb over Perry’s tight
hole. Then he nudged at Perry’s hip. “Turn over. On all fours. Gonna get all the way
inside you. Fill you up with come.”
Perry’s breath rushed out of him. He was about to turn over, when he paused, tugging
York’s shirt around his hips. Was he still self-conscious?
“You’ll have to turn the lights off,” Perry mumbled, looking away.
“I’ve already seen all of you,” York answered, confused. He wanted to see his cock
sinking into Perry’s hole, opening him up. He wanted to see Perry’s face when he came.
Perry wet his lips, looking nervous. He scratched at his lower back. “Then you can
imagine what the rest looks like. Please.”
He tightened York’s shirt around his torso, flipping onto his side. Slick began to trickle
out of his hole—so much of it. Enough to lube up York’s cock, and last three rounds,
maybe five. York’s balls ached; he scooped up Perry’s slick, smearing it down his cock.
Then he pushed his tip against Perry’s hole, to stop more from oozing out. “Damn,
Perry. You’re so fucking wet. Gonna have to plug you back up. Don’t wanna lose all
that slick.”
Perry flushed. “So turn off the light, and fuck me.”
York’s cock throbbed. He leaned over to shut off the light, his cock pressing against
Perry’s hole. Perry groaned, grinding back. He was so hungry, and York couldn’t help
himself.
The moment the lights were off, York slid his arm around Perry, lifting him onto his
knees, He nudged Perry’s legs apart, pushing two fingers into Perry’s hole. Stretched
him open. Perry wheezed and shuddered.
Holy damn, Perry was tight. And hot. York fitted a third finger into that wet heat. He
found Perry’s prostate, and pressed down on it. Perry cried out, his body clenching
around York’s fingers, trying to suck him deeper.
“York.” Perry’s voice broke.
York groaned, gathering what he could of Perry’s slick. Then he added it to his cock,
reaching between Perry’s legs. He found Perry hard again, his cock shoving damply
against York’s palm. Was that just from York opening him up?
“Fuck, you’re hungry,” York rasped, sliding his cock against Perry’s entrance. “Present
for me.”
Perry groaned and grasped his cheeks, spreading them open. And there was the dip of
his hole, tight and ready and so very wet for York. York ached.
He grasped his cock, fitted his blunt tip against Perry, and snapped his hips. Sank
halfway into Perry’s tight, sweet heat. Perry panted loudly in the darkness, the heat of
his body accentuated, his tulip and musk all that York was conscious of.
For a moment, York remembered FrogPrince again. Remembered these same exact
scents, FrogPrince small and hungry beneath him, his body sucking around York’s
cock.
And here was Perry rocking back down onto York, doing the exact same thing. Perry
begging for York to go deeper, Perry’s ass sinking further down, enveloping York’s
cock in its slippery heat.
If he didn’t know better... York would’ve thought they were the same person.
But they couldn’t be. It was impossible.
York anchored Perry against himself, sinking the rest of his cock inside. Perry cried out,
arching, his breaths ragged. “Gods, York. Oh, fuck. Oh, gods.”
“Yeah?” York loved the rawness of his voice. He fucked in once, deep, and Perry’s voice
went high, his ass sucking around York. Gods.
“More,” Perry panted. “Please.”
“Louder,” York growled, squeezing Perry’s cock. Perry scrabbled, writhing, gasping for
breath.
“More,” Perry begged.
York gave him more. He fucked so hard into Perry that Perry slid forward on the bed,
York’s entire cock buried in his ass. “Take all of it,” York growled, snapping his hips,
his veins coursing with need. “Gonna fill you up with come. You want that?”
“Yes! Yes, please,” Perry sobbed, lowering his chest to the bed, leaving his ass high in
the air, completely at York’s mercy.
That animal instinct in York’s chest roared. Perry wanted pleasure. York grasped
Perry’s shoulder and snapped his hips viciously, grinding up against Perry’s prostate.
Perry jerked, tensing, his breaths tearing apart. “York—”
He could still speak. So York pounded hard into him, massaging Perry inside, over and
over, his cock dragging against Perry’s prostate until Perry’s begging tapered off into
half-words, his breathing fast and shallow, his cock dripping all over his bed.
Inside Perry. This was where York belonged. Perry squeezed around York’s cock,
begging for his come. With each thrust, Perry’s voice climbed higher. With each thrust,
York grew closer to the edge, his balls heavy, his instincts telling him to bite down, take
this omega as his own.
He sank his teeth into Perry’s shoulder, away from his scent gland. Dragged his wrists
down Perry’s body. Perry shuddered. York held him down and crammed every inch of
his cock inside Perry, until the tension inside him began to climb, and he could no
longer stop himself.
“York, York—” Perry’s voice muffled against the bed.
York hauled him off the mattress, pulling Perry flush against his chest. Then he plunged
deep into his omega, claiming him inside, mixing Perry’s slick and his precome, until
Perry’s heart pounded against York’s wrist, and his cock grew so hard it had to hurt.
York grasped Perry and pumped his cock twice. Shoved his palm against Perry’s
mouth, a heartbeat before Perry screamed.
Perry clenched around him, shuddering, come spurting wetly from his cock. His
pleasure triggered something carnal inside York; it grasped York by the balls and
hauled him over the edge, and pleasure crashed through York like a thundercrack.
He growled, fucking deep, anchoring Perry against himself as he came, on and on, like
the waves of pleasure would never end.
York was dimly aware of collapsing onto the bed, rolling onto his side so he didn’t
crush Perry. He sucked in air, just holding Perry’s sweaty, limp body against himself.
Perry’s chest rose and fell, and it was suddenly quiet, just the two of them recovering
from... whatever it was. Animal sex. Gods, he’d treated Perry horribly over the past
minutes. Hour? York didn’t even know.
“Sorry,” York rumbled, the apology clunky in his mouth. His mind wasn’t ready to
make words yet. “Wasn’t s’posed to... fuck you like a ragdoll.”
Perry chuckled weakly. “What?”
“Should’ve gone slower,” York mumbled, blushing. “Coulda hurt you.”
Perry made a soft whuffling noise. “Slower?” He laughed quietly. Then he shook his
head, his hair brushing against York’s shoulder. “No, no. That was perfect. Thank you.”
York grimaced. “Still rude. Sorry. And your ass is gonna hurt tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. I begged you for it.” Perry leaned away slightly. York imagined him
ducking his head, trying to hide his blush. Gods, Perry was cute.
Perry leaned languorously against York, the thin dress shirt between them sweat-
soaked. He felt good in York’s arms. He was small, in need of protection, and York
savored the tulip and musk of his scent.
As his knot began to swell, York asked, “Do you want my knot?”
Perry hesitated. “I should decline. Sorry.”
He leaned away, and York’s cock slipped from the heat of his body. Didn’t feel right,
but York bit down his protest. He pulled his shorts up over his still-stiff cock.
Perry shuffled to the other side of the bed, then turned on the light.
Damn, that hurt his eyes. York squinted. Perry tugged York’s shirt around himself,
fumbling for the buttons, only to realize they’d been ripped off earlier. He blushed.
Gods, that had been some amazing sex. Looking at Perry’s slender body, touching him.
Tasting him. Leaving those hickeys down the side of his neck. And York had left a huge
load of come inside him, too.
That felt awesome. And also horrifying.
“Wait,” York blurted. “You’re... on contraceptives, right?”
Perry met his gaze. Then he looked away just as quickly. “What do you think?”
Okay, maybe Perry had been more prepared for this than York had. York sat up, feeling
awkward. He’d invited himself into Perry’s apartment. And they were just neighbors.
Kind of friends. York shouldn’t overstay his welcome.
“Do you need me to do... anything?” York searched out Perry’s gaze. “I could take you
out to coffee, or stay over, or make breakfast, or...”
Perry shook his head quickly. “No, no. It’ll be better if—if you just went home. Thanks
for tonight.”
He looked at his feet as he said it. York couldn’t read him. It didn’t feel right to leave,
when things had been so intimate between them.
Slowly, York pulled on his tank top. When he looked up, Perry had grabbed a bathrobe
from his closet, tugging it over York’s ruined dress shirt.
“If you want the shirt back, I’ll return it when it’s clean,” Perry said, cinching the
bathrobe around himself. It felt like he was hiding his body from York.
“If I said I don’t want it, are you gonna keep it, or toss it?”
Perry flushed a bright red. “I’d... I might keep it.”
York’s heart thumped. Perry wanted his shirt. “Go ahead and keep it.”
“Okay.” Perry glanced at the bulge in York’s shorts, then looked away, squirming.
York wanted to say more. He wanted to pull Perry against himself, and learn other
parts of him. But it was probably too soon to nudge Perry right now.
So he took a step toward the bedroom door. “I’ll head back,” York said. “If you need
any help, or anything at all... You have my number.”
Perry bowed his head. “I do. Thank you.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
But as York stepped out of the apartment, he got the strangest feeling that Perry
wouldn’t call him unless he absolutely had to. And he had another feeling, too—that he
would have to catch Perry, and keep him around.
Otherwise Perry would disappear, just like FrogPrince had.

P ERRY WAS AVOIDING HIM . Again. York sighed, shoving his phone into his back pocket.
For a couple days, now, York had been sending Perry a few texts. Between his shifts at
the fire station, he’d hung around at the elevator lobby of the apartment complex, and
visited the playground. But he hadn’t glimpsed the professor, or his son.
Mainly, York had wanted to catch Perry while he was still in heat. He’d figured that
Perry had a few days of it left, and if he wanted to sate his desire... York wanted to
pound Perry into his bed again. He wanted to hear Perry’s helpless moans, smell the
musk of his arousal.
So maybe York had been thinking with his cock. It was hard not to, when that night had
completely blown him away.
Perry had been beneath him, his chest heaving, his spine arching. He’d dug his nails
into York’s skin, his pupils blown, his body sucking around York. Like there had been
nothing else in the world he’d needed more.
Perry had begged, and his voice had haunted York through his dreams. York had
woken up achingly hard, he’d jerked off multiple times, and he still couldn’t get that
tulip scent out of his lungs.
It was so damn easy to get drunk on the feeling of being needed. Especially with Perry.
And maybe York had a bit of a thing for Perry now, despite swearing that he wouldn’t.
Figures.
He left his apartment, driving over to his dad’s place instead.
It had been a while since he’d visited. Dad had married York’s friends, Kai and Spike,
and there was usually at least one alpha hanging around whenever York stopped by.
He rang the bell, expecting Spike to answer the door. Instead, Lenna squealed
somewhere in the apartment. Then footsteps thumped over, and a moment passed
while Dad looked through the peephole. The door flew open.
“York!” Dad broke into a grin, pulling York into a warm hug. He smelled like gardenia
and warm butter, and elm and juniper. Kai was back in Meadowfall, then.
“Hey,” York said, hugging his dad. “Thought Kai would be away. Basketball’s still in
season.”
“He’s back for a surprise visit, but he’s out with Spike getting groceries right now.”
Micah kissed York’s cheek, looking him over fondly. “How have you been?”
Been mooning over an omega. York blushed, and Dad’s eyebrows crawled all the way up
his forehead.
“Oh,” Micah said, in that curious, knowing tone. He ushered York into the apartment,
his entire attention fixed on York now. “What’s news? Are you bringing someone
home?”
“No.” York scooped two-year-old Lenna off the floor, swinging her into the air. She
squealed and kicked, laughter in her copper eyes. York grinned. “Hey, sis. I’m glad
someone isn’t interested in my love life.”
Dad elbowed York in the side, giving him a pointed look. “You’ve been saying you
don’t want an omega. For years! What changed?”
“Nothing.” That was a lie, and they both knew it.
“York Davis,” Dad said slowly, wagging his finger at York. “No secrets. You
promised.”
This was one of the rare times ‘No secrets’ really got under his skin. York had always
been close with his dad. Dad was the only parent York ever had, and they’d been
through that terrible house fire together. They’d struggled through Dad’s subsequent
recovery from his injuries, and they’d built their lives back again, just the two of them.
Then Dad had gone and fallen in love, but at least York was fine with that now. Didn’t
mean he had to tell his dad every single detail about who he was crushing on, though.
York scowled. “What about later?”
“Fine.” Cheering up, Dad led York and Lenna to the kitchen. “Now, I’ve just started on
some brownies. I could use some help.”
Brownies had been FrogPrince’s favorite food. That memory wasn’t welcome anymore,
but it somehow appeared in York’s mind. “What sort of brownies?”
“Plain ones.” Dad lifted an eyebrow. “Why? Do you want to add something to them?”
Dried cranberries, FrogPrince had said. With dark chocolate chips in the middle.
York hated that guy. He really did. “Nah,” he said. “Just that I knew someone who
liked his with cranberries and chocolate chips.”
“I’ve never tried that before.” Dad brightened, reaching for a package of dried
cranberries.
That was awkward. York cringed. “You really shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
York didn’t have a good answer. It’s FrogPrince’s favorite food. I don’t even know what he
looks like. No, Dad didn’t need to know that.
“You can’t tease me with delicious food descriptions, and expect me to ignore them.”
Dad pulled out a bag of chocolate chips; York sighed. Now that Dad had made up his
mind, York was powerless to stop him.
“Fine,” he muttered, grabbing the flour and sugar containers. It wasn’t like FrogPrince
was here to see the brownies, anyway.
They whisked sugar into the melted butter, Lenna babbling a string of words. York
thought about Perry. Then, FrogPrince.
“You’ve been working at the college for decades, right?” York asked. “Did you know
many profs who smelled like tulips?”
“Just a handful. Why?”
“There was someone who smelled like tulips and he quit. Maybe you know him?”
Dad frowned. “Not that I remember. Do you have any other identifying details?”
“He’s got dark hair. And he’s kinda pale.”
All the other descriptions of FrogPrince—the scars on his front, the gear tattoo on his
back... Those weren’t stuff Dad was privy to.
“What did he teach?”
York bit his lip. “He didn’t say.”
Dad cracked an egg into the mixing bowl. “As far as I know, the only male omega who
matches that description is Perry Larkin, from the computer science department. He’s
still with the college, though.”
York’s heart skipped at that name. And yeah, Perry did remind York a lot of
FrogPrince. But Perry was older. FrogPrince had to have been, what, in his twenties,
maybe?
“He has a gear tattoo on his back,” York said.

Dad scrunched his face. “We’re professors, hon. We don’t do nude catwalks in public.”
York snorted. Maybe FrogPrince had left before Dad could find out about him. “Tell me
about Perry Larkin, then.”
“Perry’s a whiz with computers. He specializes in robotics.”
“What else do you know about him?”
Micah looked oddly at York. “He’s a single dad. With a son. I think he’s been working
at the college for a while.”
Yeah, and Perry also had a pet robot with a dildo. He blushed really easily. He’d fallen
through his bathroom floor, and he’d let York into his bed. He’d had sleepless nights
trying to fix that machine, and he’d tasted like mint ice cream.
York tried to stifle his laugh. Then he gave up and guffawed, because right now, York
knew a lot more about Perry Larkin than his dad did. How ridiculous was that?
Micah frowned. “What’s so funny?”
York made himself stop laughing. He thought about Perry squirming and flustered, and
chuckled again. Yeah, he knew a bit too much. “Nothing. I just... He’s been having some
trouble with his project. That’s all.”
Dad looked suspiciously at York. “And you know this because...?”
York blushed, looking away. He shouldn’t have opened his big mouth.
Dad’s nostrils flared. Under the scents of flour and vanilla, York knew there was still a
hint of tulip on him. Dad’s eyebrows rose. “So that’s why you were asking about tulip
scents.”
York had never really discussed sex with his dad, so acknowledging that he’d gotten an
omega’s scent on him... it was awkward. York took the mixing bowl from Dad and
didn’t meet his eyes. “He’s been avoiding me.”
“Why?” Dad still looked suspicious.
“Damned if I know.” York scowled. “He’s skittish like whoa. I’ve been trying to pin him
down, but he keeps slipping away like—” At Dad’s ever-rising eyebrows, York cleared
his throat, his face hot. “I mean, I’ve just seen him around. That’s all. Maybe I did
something wrong.”
Micah thought on it. “Why him? You swore you weren’t looking for an omega.”
“He just—He reminds me of someone.” York shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t want
to talk about this part. “It’s why I asked you about the other prof. I knew someone else
who smelled like tulip.”
Dad looked thoughtful. “And you know that other prof because...?”
Gods, they weren’t having this conversation right now. Or ever. “Because,” York said,
and shut up.
Dad narrowed a look at him. “So all that time you were in college, you were chasing
professors?”
“No!” York spluttered. “I wasn’t into anyone in college. I knew this guy before... before
that.”
And then he realized how wrong that sounded.
Dad did too, apparently. “Who is this person, and how did you get to know him?”
York squirmed. “It’s over. We don’t have to talk about this.”
“Yes, we do.” Dad pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I missed this happening.”
York looked away. “It was an online friend. He... He said he was teaching at the
college.”
“Was he manipulating you?” Dad scowled.
“No! He was just—We were friends. That’s all.” York gulped. He didn’t want to talk
about FrogPrince anymore. But... from Dad’s point of view, yeah, he could see how
questionable that friendship was.
“You said he quit,” Dad said. “Are you sure he did?”
“Yeah. He made a big fuss about it and everything.”
The dubious look didn’t leave Dad’s face at all. He mixed the chocolate and cranberries
into the batter, and York poured it into the brownie pan. Then he stuck it in the oven,
and set the timer. Dad cooed at Lenna for a bit, before turning back to York. “So, this...
ex-professor. Your friend. How did you start talking to him?”
York sighed, scrubbing his face. “He was watching my Frog Island videos. Remember
FrogPrince?”
Dad frowned. “Yes. You were talking to him a lot. I didn’t know he was a professor.”
A lot didn’t even begin to cut it. York had spent his waking moments chatting with
FrogPrince. He’d sent pictures of the things he’d done around the apartment, and he’d
sent pictures of his food, and FrogPrince had especially loved the brownie photos.
Chatting with FrogPrince, having him just a text away, had made York feel like he had a
friend in his pocket, almost. His days had seemed brighter when FrogPrince cheered
over his test results. Sometimes, when Dad had been busy with work, York had chatted
with FrogPrince instead, and they’d talk for hours about movies or games or TV.
FrogPrince had been clever, interesting, always having something new to discuss.
York had asked for pictures of him, but FrogPrince had been shy about showing his
face. It was the main reason why York had never hitched a ride to the college with his
dad. Gods knew he’d fantasized about surprising FrogPrince with a box of brownies.
“I mentioned that he worked at the college,” York said. “You were busy and didn’t
hear.”
Micah winced. “He was a lot older than you. I should have stopped you from talking
with him.”
“No,” York growled, surprising himself. “He—He was my friend.”
Micah narrowed his eyes. “What happened, then? You’re not friends with him
anymore.”
Okay, this part, Dad wasn’t supposed to know about. York looked away, trying to fight
the warmth prickling his face. “I met him once. Then he completely disappeared.”
Dad scrutinized him. “When was that?”
“About... four, five years back. He just vanished. I couldn’t contact him anymore.” York
scowled. That memory always stung.
“What happened when you met?”
York opened his mouth. Didn’t want to talk about the desire that had scorched between
him and that omega, so similar to how it had been with Perry. His ears burned, though.
“He was in heat.” Before Dad could protest, York added, “I was eighteen, okay? I was
old enough to make my own decisions.”
Dad frowned harder. “So he was just waiting for you to hit eighteen?”
Honestly, at this point, York didn’t know anymore. He’d been eighteen and horny, and
details didn’t register very well when you were thinking with your dick. “He never
seemed creepy to me, for what it’s worth. We’d never even talked about sex before we
met.”
“I hope you used protection,” Dad muttered.
“I’m not talking about it anymore,” York said, turning away. His skin felt too tight. “He
split on me after that. I never heard from him again.”
“You didn’t see him around Meadowfall?”
York pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t fucking know what he looked like, okay?”
“But—”
“He was wearing a damn mask.” York turned away, embarrassed that he was even
admitting to this. “I never saw his face at all.”
Dad grimaced. “And yet you spent his heat with him.”
York scrubbed his face, his skin too tight. “Yeah.”
Dad watched him with pity, then realization. And then he looked so sad that York
wanted to hand him a tissue. “You loved him,” Dad said.
York flushed. “I told you, I don’t need an omega.”
Dad’s face fell. “Oh, York.” He pulled York into a tight hug, and York felt a bit like a
child again. “I wish I could fix that for you.”
“It’s fine,” York muttered. “I’m over it.”
He breathed out the tightness in his chest. FrogPrince was gone. And now there was
Perry in his place, except Perry was avoiding York, too. York didn’t know what the hell
he was supposed to do about any of it.
Is it too much to ask for a hug? York sighed, rubbing his temples. All he wanted was to
hold Perry again. Kiss him like how he’d wanted to kiss FrogPrince. Perry almost felt
like a second chance, except he was out of York’s reach right now.
But if York found him again... He wouldn’t let Perry go so easily.
Lenna grabbed the ticking egg timer, shaking it. “Egg,” she said.
Dad smiled at her. “Yes, that’s an egg.” Then he glanced at the oven, and said slowly,
“So the brownies. Those are FrogPrince’s favorite, huh?”
York couldn’t answer. His throat had gone tight again.

I N THE WEEK after that night with York, the fog in Perry’s mind lifted. He ordered the
parts he needed to reconstruct The Boyfriend. He worked on his lesson plans. He
graded his assignments.
He couldn’t forget about York.
Time and again, he remembered York’s horror when he’d asked, You’re on
contraceptives, right?
No, Perry hadn’t been on any at all. He’d asked, What do you think? Because it had been
the first vague answer he could come up with. It still felt like a lie, but... Well. Perry had
already lied to York. What did another one matter?
For the past few days, he’d been avoiding that alpha. Sooner or later, he’d start
developing that honey scent, the one that told everyone he was pregnant. If York found
out... When York found out... What would Perry say?
“You need to move out,” Perry told himself. “You need to get out of that apartment so
he can’t find you again.”
Except York knew that Perry was a professor at the college, and Perry was reluctant to
give up his job. He was getting along in age. He was comfortable here. In short, there
was no way he could run from York Davis, not without losing everything he’d worked
so hard for.
What if Perry lied about the baby instead? That York wasn’t its father? Would York
leave him alone then?
It was a terrible option. But it promised safety, because York wouldn’t be as likely to
claim the child, or want anything to do with it. Perry wouldn’t get entangled with York,
and... York wouldn’t get angry with him. Hopefully.
All the same, Perry’s heart thumped. He did not want York to be angry with him. He
really didn’t. He’d piss his pants and flee.
“He’ll go away if you ignore him,” Perry told himself, leaning weakly against his office
desk. “Things will turn out okay.”
If York stuck around... What were the chances that he’d turn out like those other
alphas? What if he got angry, and hit Perry?
Fear slithered up Perry’s throat. He gulped, wrapping his arms around his belly.
Let’s think about something else. York is a good person. I think he is. Perry sniffed at his skin,
wincing at the trace of hickory York had left on him. Already, some of his coworkers
had raised their eyebrows at that scent. Perry hadn’t been with many alphas over the
last few years.
Someone knocked on the door. It was a consultation slot, so Perry sucked in a deep
breath, and straightened his shoulders. “Come on in.”
Micah Davis stepped into the office, giving a small wave. “Hi. I heard you were having
some project woes, so I brought brownies. I’m not intruding, am I?”
Perry held his breath, his scalp tingling with alarm. How had Micah found out? Maybe
he just wanted to discuss that vibrator. Perry could be that fortunate, right?
“If you bring brownies, then you’re my most esteemed guest,” Perry said brightly,
hoping his nerves didn’t show. “Have a seat.”
Micah laughed, limping over to Perry’s desk. “I baked these with my son. He
mentioned that you were having project difficulties.”
Perry’s heart sank. What else did you tell your dad? “Y-you mean, York?”
“I only have one son.” Micah smiled, his gaze slipping lower, to Perry’s neck. Perry had
brushed foundation over the hickeys, but it was late in the day. Some of the makeup
had rubbed off.
Perry’s face burned. This wasn’t how he wanted Micah to find out. Especially when
Perry was thirty-eight, and so much older than York. “What, um. What did he say?”
Micah slid the box over to Perry, watching him closely. “He asked about you. I told him
you specialize in robotics. He laughed.”
“Oh.” Perry could only imagine how that conversation had turned out. York had
smelled like Perry, hadn’t he?
“How did the two of you meet?” Micah asked.
“I... I fell into his apartment.” Perry winced. That was the simple answer. “The floors
under my bathtub had rotted out. They’re in the process of being repaired.”
“Ouch.” Micah grimaced. “Were you hurt?”
“I was fortunate. York got me out of the tub before it could collapse further. I’m just
glad that it didn’t happen while Caleb was in there.”
“Caleb is your son, right? You said he was two a couple years back.”
Perry nodded, unnerved by Micah’s piercing gaze. He looked at the box of brownies
instead. “He’s four now. He’s ahead in his learning. I’m proud of him.”
“Does he have another dad?”
Perry shook his head. “I’m raising him myself.”
“If you ever need help... I don’t mind lending a hand.”
That made Perry blink. Not many people had offered help. “Thanks.”
Then Micah leaned closer, his gaze locking onto Perry. “York mentioned that you like
brownies with cranberries and chocolate chips. That’s what we made.”
Perry’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t told York that. Not as Perry Larkin, but he had as
FrogPrince. Had York already figured him out? “How...”
“Was he wrong?” Micah asked, his gaze still too sharp for Perry’s comfort.
“I, um. No.” Perry squirmed. Alarm bells jangled in his head. He was in trouble, and he
could feel the noose slipping around his neck. “I should—I should go. Give me a
moment—”
He stood, his heart pounding, his skin too tight. He needed to leave before York found
him. He needed to hide somewhere. He needed to escape York’s anger before it hit—
“Perry.” Micah caught his hand. “Wait.”
Perry almost jerked out of his grasp. He forced himself to stay, but only barely.
“York doesn’t know,” Micah said, holding Perry’s hand tighter. “It was a guess.”
But that was bad enough. Perry whimpered, squirming out of Micah’s grip. He couldn’t
breathe. He needed to get to the restroom, and empty his stomach.
He fled the office. Ducked into the staff restroom, and huddled into a cubicle, puking
his guts out. The stench rose around him, and he didn’t feel safe in here, not right now.
What am I going to do?
Perry huddled into himself, the lights in the bathroom too bright. The smell of his vomit
went back up his nose, and he retched again. He couldn’t stop shaking. He imagined
York’s fury unleashing on him. York’s hands sending bursts of pain through his skin.
Perry’s eyes burned, and he barely stopped himself from breaking down.
“Perry?” Micah asked from outside the cubicle.

Perry closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized that Micah had followed him into the
restroom. And now there was no escaping, was there? York doesn’t know, Micah had
said. But that meant that Micah knew.
How much of York’s relationship with FrogPrince had Micah heard about? Would he
judge Perry now?
Perry covered his face, flushing hot and cold, his stomach twisting into knots. “I’m
sorry,” he blurted.
York had been eighteen when they’d spent that night together, but Perry had been
friends with him long before that. To Micah... what must that have looked like?
“If you’re feeling better, will you step out so we can talk?” Micah asked.
Perry quailed. He had to step out. He couldn’t deal with this like a coward. Maybe he’d
have to tender his resignation after this, anyway. He couldn’t face Micah any more than
he could face York. All he had to do was make sure he found somewhere nice so that
Caleb wouldn’t have so much trouble settling down.
With shaking hands, Perry flushed the toilet and opened the cubicle door, feeling an
overwhelming urge to flee again.
Micah stood against the bathroom sinks, fiddling with his fingers. He wasn’t smiling. “I
knew of you when you first started talking to York,” Micah said. “He was very excited
to make a new friend.”
Micah definitely knew that Perry was FrogPrince. Perry’s face burned. “I made sure to
keep everything platonic, I swear. I saw him as a younger brother.”
“But something changed.”
Perry hung his head, ashamed. “I won’t deny that. But he was eighteen before I started
thinking of him as—as...” As someone I wanted in my bed.
Micah’s stare bored through Perry, like he could see through any lie. “You’re sure he
was eighteen?”
Perry nodded vigorously. “He had a party hat on and everything. He talked about his
birthday gifts in his video. I did not make any advances on him before that, I promise. I
wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You weren’t waiting for him to turn eighteen for the express purpose of sex?”
Perry stared at Micah in horror, all the blood draining from his head. That sounded
terrible. “N-no! That’s—That’s the last thing I’d want. You’re welcome to search my
entire conversation history with him. I promise I didn’t manipulate your son.”
Micah watched him for another moment. Then he sucked in a deep breath, and blew it
out. “Right. Okay.”
Perry’s face burned. He wished he hadn’t screwed up so royally. He wished he could go

back in time and stop himself from searching out Frog Island videos, except then he
wouldn’t have stumbled upon York Davis, and learned the heat of York’s embrace.
He bit his lip, stepping away from Micah. “I’ll stop seeing him, I promise.”
His heart hurt so much, saying that. Never seeing that beautiful alpha ever again. Perry
swallowed past the lump in his throat. “If you’ll let me, I’ll just get everything squared
away, and then I’ll grab Caleb and we’ll leave—”
“Leave?” Surprise flashed through Micah’s face.
“The college. The town.” Perry flushed. “You won’t have to see me around again—”
“No, no. That’s not what I want.”
At that, Perry looked up, his heart clawing against his ribs. Gods, he wanted to be far
away from here. Somewhere where no one recognized him. Where he wouldn’t make
mistakes again. “I really should go—”
“No, don’t. I’m sorry.” Micah touched Perry’s arm apologetically. “I had to make sure
you hadn’t harbored any ill intentions toward my son. I’m sorry for giving you a scare.
I truly am.”
Perry swayed on his feet. This couldn’t be happening. Micah couldn’t be... forgiving
him. “How do you know I don’t have any ill intentions now?”
Micah huffed, giving a crooked smile. “I trust you.”
“I don’t trust myself.”
Micah pulled Perry into an awkward hug, all gardenia and warmth. “York’s an adult
now. He’s capable of making his own decisions.”
“But I’m so much older than him,” Perry mumbled.
Micah smiled crookedly. “And I married two of my students.”

Even so. “He’s young,” Perry said, wincing at the smell of his own puke. “He’ll find
someone else better for him.”
Micah chuckled; it was the first real smile Perry had seen from him today. “That’s what
we always think, isn’t it? That there’ll be someone younger and better out there. That
these alphas will necessarily want someone their age.”
“You don’t think so?”
Micah rolled his shoulders. “I’ve been convinced otherwise.” He lifted his hand, where
his wedding band sat on his finger.
Perry didn’t know what to think of that ring. It was better not to be chained to an alpha
who would hurt him.
“York felt very strongly toward you, you know. He still does.”
Perry’s heart stopped. “Does he... Does he know I’m FrogPrince?”
“No, he doesn’t.” Micah winced. “I made a guess from the things he’d told me. But
sooner or later, when he finds out... That boy holds long grudges. I don’t think you
want to be on the receiving end of that.”
“Oh.” Relief loosened Perry’s limbs. “I’ll be gone before that happens.”
“You aren’t staying?” Micah asked, surprised.
Perry shook his head. “I can’t stay with any alpha. It’s too dangerous.”
Concern flashed through Micah’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
How did Micah not feel that way? Perry pulled his shirt up, showing Micah the scars on
his belly. “Don’t you have these, too?”
Micah stared. “What—How did you get those?”
“From alphas,” Perry said. “Have you... not received any?”
The surprise on Micah’s face turned into horror. He looked at Perry for a long moment,
and then his face fell. “No,” Micah said quietly. “Not all alphas are like that.”
Were they, really? Maybe Micah had had some really good luck with his.
His face falling, Micah stepped forward, pulling Perry into a tight hug. “Oh, Perry. I
didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Perry didn’t know what to say.

Micah leaned back with a frown. “Are any of these from York?”
Perry shook his head. “But I figure there will be, sooner or later.”
Micah’s lips grew thin. “York won’t do that. I swear on it as his father.”
Perry squirmed. “It doesn’t matter, does it? I won’t stay long.”
“It does matter.” Micah’s gaze flashed. “I don’t know how you’ve had such bad luck
with alphas, Perry. But I promise that not all alphas will hurt you.”
At the back of his mind, something like hope bloomed. But Perry didn’t dare to trust it.
He’d been reckless in the past, and he’d received injuries for making that mistake.
“I’ll be fine,” Perry mumbled, extricating himself from Micah’s hug. “I’ve been doing
okay so far.”
Micah flashed a quick smile. “I don’t know everything about you,” he said quietly. “But
I think... if you let York, he might help you heal more than you expect.”
Perry wasn’t sure he trusted that, either.

Y ORK HAD UPLOADED a new video on his channel. Perry hadn’t felt comfortable
watching it so soon after his meeting with Micah, but the notification had nagged at
him through his classes.
He wanted to see York again. It had been a whole week since that night with that alpha,
and Perry craved the sight of him. He wanted to hear York’s voice. He wanted to know
what York had been up to since that day. He wanted to pretend that York was talking
to him on the video, and him alone.
And now that time had finally come.
“Whee!” Caleb raced across the playground, his arms outstretched. “Hello, Horsie! I
missed you!”
“Don’t run too fast, hon,” Perry called after him. “Watch where you step!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Caleb beamed, and Perry’s heart melted, all over again.
He supervised while Caleb scrambled up the ladders leading to the slides. Caleb
squealed, sliding down the tallest one. Then he hopped back onto his feet and began the
process again.
Satisfied that his son was having fun, Perry stuck an earbud in his ear, leaving the other
out so he could listen for Caleb.
After that meeting with Micah earlier, guilt twinged at Perry. He shouldn’t get involved
with York again. But watching York from afar... That was something Perry excelled at.
Especially when York’s voice would stream right into Perry’s ear, like a lover’s whisper.
Perry blushed. He checked his surroundings for any passers-by, found none, and hit
Play.
“Hey, guys,” York said on the video, his gaze cutting to the camera. “Welcome to this
week’s episode of Frog Island! Today, we’re exploring the new weapon upgrades that came with
the Zombie Frogs update.”
His rumbling voice was melted chocolate in Perry’s ear. Perry’s heart skipped; he held
his phone closer, staring at York. The real-time footage of York’s game took up the
majority of the screen, and York’s face occupied a little square in the corner. But that
was enough.
Perry admired York’s full lips. He listened to the rise and fall of York’s voice, and his
throat tightened at the sight of York smiling.
After a while, York said, “Some of you have been asking me all kinds of questions, so I’ll
answer them in this video. SamWise asked, ‘What’s your favorite drink?’ It’s black coffee.
Wilson71 said, ‘Awesome videos, dude!’ Thanks, Wilson. And Starving4Ever asked, ‘Can you
sing us a song? Preferably a cool one.’ I don’t know any cool songs, so I’m gonna sing you a
lullaby. Yeah, doesn’t fit the channel, I know.”
Perry paused the video, his heart skipping. York rarely posted videos of himself
singing. Part of Perry wanted to call Caleb over and say, Here’s what your other dad
sounds like. He’s a great man.
But he didn’t want to give Caleb false hope. Perry didn’t expect York to remain in his
life. Much less, be a dad to Caleb.
His chest squeezing tight, Perry hit Play, and the square with York’s face expanded to
fill the screen. York looked straight at the camera, and began to sing.
Perry didn’t even hear the words. It felt like York was staring right at him as he sang,
his gaze boring into Perry’s, his lips moving, his voice rumbling like the crash of ocean
waves.
Perry struggled to breathe. York was beautiful. He was singing at Perry. His voice was
amazing. It felt like a lover’s touch on Perry’s skin. And Perry’s heart expanded like it
would fill his entire chest.
Gods, he wanted that alpha so much.
He wanted York pressed up against him, he wanted York’s lips on his skin, he wanted
York to kiss him again.
“Perry?” York asked.
“Mm,” Perry answered, unable to tear his gaze away from the video.
“Perry,” York said again. Then someone touched Perry’s shoulder, and he looked up.
And there was York looking down at him, his eyes dark, his gaze flicking between
Perry and his own face on Perry’s phone.
Panic jolted through Perry’s gut. He flailed. The phone flew out of his hands, and the
earbud tore out of his ear. York saw. Gods. Oh, gods.
He scrambled for his phone, his blood running hot and cold. Perry grabbed his phone
and jabbed at the home screen button. He shoved the earbuds into his pocket. He
looked desperately at the grass, at the sidewalk, at everything but York. Now he’ll realize
I’ve been stalking him. Oh, gods. Why did I do this to myself?
His face burning, Perry glanced at Caleb. York waved at their son, and Caleb waved
back, smiling.
“W-we should, um. We should be going home,” Perry said breathlessly. He stood and
cupped his hands around his mouth. “I, um. Caleb! Let’s g—”
Strong fingers wrapped around Perry’s wrist, breaking his makeshift loudspeaker.
“Perry,” York said.
Gods, his voice. It raked down Perry’s spine, going straight between Perry’s legs. Perry
flailed, trying to get out of York’s grip. So York wouldn’t discover the most humiliating
things about him. “I-I-I...”
York pulled Perry flush against his chest, and buried his nose in Perry’s hair. “Haven’t
seen you in a while,” York growled, sliding his hand down Perry’s back. “I wasn’t
gonna look for you today, but my dad said I should. You missed me?”
Micah said what? York’s warmth soaked through Perry’s clothes. His touch lit up all of
Perry’s nerves, like little explosions racing down his skin. “Wh-Why’re you touching
me?” Perry’s voice snagged in his throat.
“Shouldn’t I?” York rumbled. He stroked Perry’s back, his lips brushing Perry’s
forehead. “You were watching my video.”
Perry’s face burned. “I, um.”
“You were enjoying it.” And now there was a smile in York’s voice.
York sniffed at Perry’s temple, anchoring his arm around Perry’s waist. Gods, his chest
was so strong. And his biceps were thick, his hickory scent rich, filling up Perry’s lungs.
This has to be a dream.
“You covered up my markings,” York rumbled, sliding his thumb down Perry’s neck
where the hickeys were. “You don’t like them?” He paused at Perry’s pulse point, his
breath rushing through Perry’s hair. “Perry. Answer me.”
Perry made a sound. He meant to answer, but he couldn’t think right now. He could
only stare at York, overwhelmed by York’s warmth around him, his strong arms
holding Perry, his gaze reaching deep into Perry’s soul.
Maybe there was no way Perry could run from him at all, because it felt like York
commanded all of Perry’s instincts. With just a single look.
“Perry,” York said again, a tiny smile tugging on his lips. “You need to start talking at
some point. Or I’ll take you out to dinner because you can’t say no.”
Perry groaned. “No, you really shouldn’t.” He wrenched himself out of York’s arms, his
entire body urging him to return. “I, um. I just happened to find your video. That’s all.”
“You were watching me.” York grinned, catching Perry’s forearm, tracing his fingertips
down Perry’s skin. His gaze was warm—so much warmer than Perry had ever seen.
“Want to invite me back into your bed?”
Perry’s blood swooped down, at the same time he flushed. Gods, yes, he wanted York
back between his legs. “I should, um.”
“How’d you find my video?” York asked, slipping his arm around Perry’s waist. Then
he pulled Perry back against himself, and Perry wheezed. York leaned back, meeting
his eyes. “Bad?”
Perry shook his head. “No, no.”
How did he tell York that his touch was like the completion of an electric circuit? Like it
filled in Perry’s missing pieces, and suddenly Perry felt like a live wire again?
“Been trying to catch you out here,” York murmured, smelling like smoke from his day
job. “Mind if I take you and Caleb out to dinner?”
Perry shouldn’t. He should flee before York found out. But York smiled, all warm and
inviting, and Perry couldn’t refuse him at all. “I guess,” Perry croaked, his heart
thumping like it would leap out of his throat. Then he could’ve kicked himself. “I
mean—You don’t have to. We just—”
York leaned in, so close that his eyes blurred and his breath fell warm on Perry’s lips.
Then he dragged their mouths together, a soft, chaste kiss, and Perry’s heart stopped.
York kissed me.
“Wh-what was that?” Perry gasped, struggling to breathe.
“A kiss.” York grinned. “Have you not received one before?”
Then he kissed Perry again, his lips soft and warm. Perry’s knees grew weak.
After months and years of dreaming about York... He couldn’t deal with this. York
touching him. York’s scent surrounding him. York looking at him like he was someone
important.
Perry whined, his heart thumping so fast, it felt like he might have a heart attack.
“What’s wrong?” York frowned, scrutinizing him.
“It’s too much,” Perry gasped. “I just—I...”
“I kissed you too many times?” York brushed his lips against Perry’s temple, then down
his ear. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
York could do this for hours, and Perry wouldn’t even think of asking him to stop.
“Wh-why are you doing this?”
York laughed, and it sounded even better in person. “Because you couldn’t take your
eyes off my video. You like watching me. Or am I wrong?”
Perry’s face burned. York dragged his heavy palm down Perry’s back, pulling Perry’s
hips against him, until Perry’s bulge shoved against York’s thigh. York growled, his
eyes darkening.
“I sh-should get going,” Perry said. “It’s dinnertime.”
York’s gaze dropped to Perry’s lips. “How about I make you dinner? We’ll grab some
food from the store, and go to your place. Or mine, whichever. Somewhere I can help
relieve your stress.”
He slipped his hand down to Perry’s ass, giving him a squeeze. Electricity jolted
straight through Perry’s body. Perry gasped, his musk betraying him.
“Very nice,” York rumbled, rubbing Perry’s ass. Then he sniffed again at Perry,
dragging his nose down Perry’s throat, to the scent gland at his neck. His gaze
sharpened. “You smell sweet.”
Crap. Perry had known that he’d been oversensitive to light and smells today, but he
hadn’t expected York to find out this soon. And he didn’t want to lie straight to York’s
face. Not when York was touching him this intimately. “I, um.”
Caleb raced over right then, bouncing on the rubber playground flooring. “Daddy! I’m
hungry!”
Grateful for the distraction, Perry eased out of York’s embrace and scooped Caleb into
his arms, so York wouldn’t try to crowd as close. “Are you, really? What do you want
for dinner?”
“Pizza!” Caleb grinned, wriggling. “Put me down! I can walk.”
Damn it. Perry set Caleb back on his feet, holding his hand. “Okay, pizza it is.”
“What do you like on your pizza?” York asked, leaning around Perry to look at Caleb.
“Mushrooms!” Caleb grinned. “And cheese and ham and sausage and, and...”
“My treat,” York said, sliding his arm back around Perry’s waist. “Let’s go to the store
and pick all those things up, and we’ll make the best, yummiest pizza you’ve ever had.”
Caleb’s eyes grew round. “You promise?”
York stuck his pinky finger out. “I promise.”
Caleb linked his pinky with York’s, and Perry didn’t know what to say to that. It felt
right. And wrong. If York ever wanted his own family... it would be wrong to keep
Caleb away from him. But that was a big if.
York glanced up, meeting Perry’s eyes. “I hope that was okay.”
“Yeah,” Perry croaked. “We should—We should go.”
“Let’s take my car,” York said.

T HEY FOLLOWED York to the parking lot, where he pulled open the passenger door for
Perry, then the back door for Caleb. As Perry climbed into the car, York touched the
small of his back—a light touch, but it was exactly where the tattoo was.
His heart thudding, Perry scrambled into the car and pressed his back against the seat.
If York went home with him tonight... Perry couldn’t afford to let him see the tattoo.
He’d been naked around York twice. Miraculously, York hadn’t discovered Perry’s old
identity. If he did...
Maybe I should get something else tattooed over it. But he didn’t want to. Perry had gotten
that tattoo when he’d graduated from college, and decided he wanted to spend the rest
of his life building robots. It was part of who he was. Changing that... It wasn’t right.
Maybe he’ll chase down someone else after today. That seemed more likely. All we have to do
is turn off the lights when we fuck.
“Are you thinking about dessert?” York asked, slipping into the driver’s seat. Then he
shut the door, and the car smelled like smoke and hickory. It smelled good. Safe.
“You mean, ice cream?” Perry asked.
“I want ice cream!” Caleb said from the backseat.
“If we do get some, you’ll have to promise not to pour it all over me again,” Perry said,
looking his son in the eye.
York snorted. “He did that to you?”
“It’s why we had to borrow your shower that day,” Perry said dryly.
“The man on TV did it!” Caleb kicked his feet, grinning triumphantly. “So I helped
Daddy get cold.”
Perry shook his head, fond and exasperated. “But the man on TV also made a mess,
remember? And we had to take a shower because of it.”
Caleb brightened. “It’s hot. Can I shower again? And can I have more ice cream?”
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” York asked Caleb.
“Chocolate!”
“And what’s your dad’s favorite?”
“Um...” Caleb frowned. “Vanilla?”
“Coffee,” Perry said. “I promise it’s not vanilla.”
York laughed. “Hey, vanilla isn’t so bad. Even if it’s in bed.” He angled a dark, inviting
look at Perry, and Perry’s face grew hot. “Although I don’t think you’re a vanilla sort of
person.”
“Do you eat ice cream in bed?” Caleb asked, looking awed. “Can I eat ice cream in bed,
Daddy?”
“Maybe when you get older,” Perry said.
“Tomorrow?” Caleb grinned.
Perry sighed. “When you become an adult!”
“Aww.” Caleb sagged. “That’s too far away.”
York chuckled. “Caleb’s awesome. I like him.”
Perry’s heart fluttered. “You haven’t even known him for a week.”
“Doesn’t take much.” York grinned. “You did a great job raising him.”
Perry flushed hot and cold. You wouldn’t say the same if you knew he was yours. But York
liking their son this much... It made Perry want to rub his entire body against him. I’ve
gone insane.
York drove to the store, bantering with Caleb. Perry sat quietly, listening to them.
Mostly, he was amazed that York took so well to their son. And then he felt guilty,
because the more York spoke with Caleb, the more Perry realized that York would have
wanted to spend Caleb’s earlier years with him, too. How much will he hate me when he
finds out?
His insides shriveled. Micah had said that York bore long grudges. Perry had left York,
and he’d kept secrets from him. He’d hidden their son away. That was three strikes
against Perry. What was York’s breaking point? Or had Perry already done enough to
reach it?
“Hey.” York reached over, tangling his hand with Perry’s. “Something bothering you?”
He noticed? Perry’s pulse quickened. “It’s nothing.”

York raised his eyebrow, then glanced in the rearview mirror, at Caleb. “We’ll have
some things to talk about tonight.”
That made Perry squirm, all over again. York watched him through his discomfort. He
squeezed Perry’s hand, and didn’t let go until they reached the store. Perry’s heart
thumped.
He’d never really had an alpha hold his hand before. At least, with no expectations,
aside from companionship.
Outside the car, York grabbed a shopping cart. “Hey, Caleb. Do you wanna ride in the
cart, or tag along with your dad?”
Caleb bounced ahead of them, and Perry had to hurry to catch up. “I guess he’s
deciding where he wants to go.” Perry laughed. York grinned and fell into step with
them.
In the store, Caleb raced to the frozen dinners aisle. “I want pizza!”
York laughed. “That’s what you feed him? Frozen pizza?”
Perry flushed. “Sometimes. I don’t get a lot of time to prepare meals.”
And the look on York’s face mellowed. “I was kidding. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you
uncomfortable.”
Perry didn’t know what to say to that. “I mean, I do bulk meals when I can. It gets a
little boring, but Caleb’s favorite is cheesy meatballs.”
“You’ve been a single dad the whole time?” York asked, tangling their fingers together.
Perry shrugged. “I have.”
“Are you in contact with Caleb’s other parent?”
Like right now? Perry squirmed harder. “It’s... complicated.”
“But you don’t have feelings for them.” York searched Perry’s gaze.
Gods, how was Perry supposed to answer that? “Why—Why are you asking me this?”
York growled low in his throat. “It’s not obvious?”
He squeezed Perry’s hand, pulling Perry closer to himself. Perry’s face burned. This
almost feels like a date.
“You don’t even know me,” he mumbled.

It was York’s turn to look away. His cheeks darkened—York was blushing, and he was
adorable. “You just feel familiar, is all.”
Oh, gods. But Perry couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why?”
York wet his lips. “I used to know someone who smelled like tulip, too.”
Perry stopped breathing. York couldn’t still be fixated on FrogPrince. He couldn’t. But
Perry remembered Micah saying, York felt very strongly toward you. He still does. And
now Perry didn’t know how to deal with that information, because it was true. His heart
pounded.
He could say, I’m FrogPrince, and then things would either become bliss, or they could
crash and burn. And Perry wasn’t making stupid mistakes again. He didn’t want to go
into another panic attack right now.
So he said, “This is only the fourth time you’ve met me.”
York shrugged. He brought Perry’s hand to his lips, and kissed his knuckles. “Feels like
I’ve known you longer than that.”
“And... you’re leaving after this, right?” Perry mumbled. “You’re going to look for
another omega.”
“No.”
Perry’s heart stopped, and so did the world. “I’m... older than you.”
“Yeah, that feels weird. But I’ll get over it, I think.”
York met his eyes. Then he stepped close, cupped Perry’s face, and slanted their lips
together in a sweet, tingling rush.
Perry’s heart almost burst. He trembled; York growled, catching Perry’s lower lip
between his teeth, biting lightly on it, sucking it into his mouth. They were at the store.
People could see them.
“Should’ve asked first,” York murmured, but he was still kissing Perry, his lips soft and
warm, his breath rushing against Perry’s skin. “Sorry.”
He didn’t sound sorry, and Perry didn’t want him to be. So he leaned in closer, parting
his lips. York slid into his mouth, claiming him inside.
It felt like his entire body was on fire, burning with every stroke of York’s tongue. It felt
wrong, and so right, and Perry wanted to tell York to stop, except he also didn’t.
“Dad,” Caleb cried to their side. “Ew!”
Perry broke away from York, his lips damp, his face burning. York’s gaze scorched all
the way to his core. “I, um. Sorry. What were we here for, again?”
“Pizza,” Caleb said, pointing at the frozen pizza section. “Can I have the meat pizza?”
Perry wiped discreetly at his mouth, so he didn’t look like he’d just been thoroughly
kissed.
York was still watching him. Perry felt embarrassed, suddenly. He hadn’t meant to
wipe York’s kiss away.
York turned, holding Caleb’s gaze. “Hey, I promised I’d make you the yummiest pizza,
remember? That means we get actual meat, and some pizza crust.”
“But this pizza’s the best!” Caleb pointed at the cardboard boxes in the freezer.
Gods, to think their son thought frozen pizza was the best. Perry blushed. “Actually,
York’s right, you know,” he told Caleb. “There’s something even better than the pizza
here. I promise it’s really yummy.”
Caleb thought about it. “I guess.”
York chuckled and nudged Perry. “You believe me, huh?”
“I’d believe anything you say,” Perry blurted.
York grinned. Perry’s stomach flipped. They hadn’t even spent much time together in
person. And Perry was all but ready to give himself to York. I shouldn’t. I need to
remember that.
York tangled their fingers together, and those thoughts flew right out of Perry’s mind.
“Guess I could convince you to let me visit your bed, huh?” York murmured.
Perry gulped. “I’m not sure we should be talking about that right now.”
“Why?” York glanced at Perry’s hips, where he was half-hard. And a smile curved his
mouth. “Ah.”
Perry’s face grew hotter.
“So this means I make my meat taste real good,” York said, tugging Perry out of the
frozen dinner aisle. “Then you’ll want all of it.”
Perry choked.
“Caleb! C’mon, let’s get some nice meat for your dad,” York said.
“Yay!” Caleb skipped after them.
Perry didn’t know how he was going to make it home intact. “How are you going to—
to make your meat taste good?”
York’s grin widened. “I don’t know. Chocolate sauce? Whipped cream?”
Caleb gasped. “Do you eat your hot dog with chocolate?”
Perry imagined York drizzling chocolate and cream all over his thick cock, and his
mouth watered. It wasn’t exactly sexy, but he wouldn’t say no to licking York’s cock
clean, either. “Maybe honey,” Perry managed to say. “Kind of like honey ham?”
“That gonna encourage you to suck on it?” York rumbled, squeezing Perry’s hand.
Perry’s entire head scorched.
“Should I get a squeeze bottle, or dip my meat right into the honey jar?”
“I’ve never even... You can’t dip it into a jar!”
York’s eyes gleamed. “‘Course I can. I’m an adult. I do what I want.”
While Perry tried to figure out an answer to that, York turned them down the bread
aisle, and very deliberately, he grabbed the biggest jar of honey he could find. Then he
set it into the cart.
Perry almost fainted.
“What does honey ham taste like?” Caleb asked, trailing along on York’s other side.
“Salty and sweet,” York answered. “We should get some of that, too. It’s really good.”
Perry gulped. At some point tonight, York would probably demonstrate his honey-
dipping techniques. And Perry wouldn’t even turn him down. “Cleanup will be a
pain,” Perry said weakly.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” York grinned, his gaze full of promise.
Oh, gods. Weak-kneed, Perry trailed next to York. York dropped a chunk of foil-
wrapped ham into the cart, then a tray of ground beef, some onions, pepperoni, and
fresh basil. At the deli coolers, he grabbed a tin of unbaked pizza crust, and a bag of
shredded Italian cheese.
“I hear you like cheese, kiddo,” York said to Caleb. Caleb beamed.
“Red bell peppers. And mushrooms,” Perry said. “I forgot to mention those. They’ll fly
under the radar.”
York chuckled. “He doesn’t like veggies, huh?”
“He doesn’t, no.” Gods knew how many ways Perry had tried to convince Caleb to eat
leafy greens, squashes, and broccoli.
“That’s kinda like me,” York said. “My dad had a lot of trouble getting me to eat
veggies when I was a kid.”
“Veggies are gross,” Caleb said. “They’re green and ick.”
“They make it easy for you to poop,” York told him. “So you won’t sit on the toilet and
cry.”
Caleb made a face. York made a face back.
Were they similar in other ways? Perry didn’t know. Just one night, he told himself. It’s
okay to spend one night with York.
York turned back, slipping his fingers into Perry’s hand. “So all we need are the red
peppers and mushrooms, and then we’ll head home for the best pizza in the world.”
Perry couldn’t help laughing. “Are we going to your place, or mine?”
“Mine has a working tub,” York said, his gaze raking down Perry’s front. “And if you
wanna have Caleb sleep over, I have a small air mattress, too. I’ve babysat my sis a
couple times at my place. I’ve got stuff like kid shampoo and everything.”
Perry held his breath. He’d seen the baby soaps in York’s bathroom, and a couple of
child-sized towels lying around. Everything about this seemed too easy. “You don’t
mind if he sleeps over?”
York shrugged. “Why would I?”
The more Perry spent time with York, the more he wanted to remain by York’s side.
“You make it so difficult to leave,” Perry mumbled.
“I don’t want you to.” York grinned, slipped his arm around Perry’s waist, and pulled
him close. Perry allowed himself to soak up York’s warmth, to just... savor the comfort
York offered.
“You don’t know me very well, either,” York whispered. “And yet you don’t mind
cozying up to me.”
Perry wet his lips, his heart racing. “I, uh. I guess I don’t have much to lose.”
“That’s bull.” York grinned. “You jump and squeak when I get too close. You’re scared.
And yet you moan when I kiss you.”
Perry’s face grew hot. York had seen through him. Had he been moaning in the store,
too?
“Gods, you’re cute,” York whispered, his smile growing. He dragged Perry over to the
check stand, and they unloaded the cart.
Caleb pointed at the bottles of chocolate sauce next to the impulse-purchase coolers.
“Chocolate sauce, Daddy! For the meat!”
Perry choked. York laughed. “Yeah?” York said. “You want some to go with your ice
cream?”
Caleb nodded. Perry would have said no, except York grabbed a bottle and set it on the
conveyor belt, too.
“You didn’t have to,” Perry protested.
York raised his eyebrows. “You don’t spoil that kid much, do you?”
Guilt crept through Perry’s chest. “Not all the time, no.”
“So it’s okay if I do.” York hauled Perry against his side, and they waited together for
their turn. “Hey, Caleb. Don’t run off.”
“I won’t,” Caleb said.
Perry squirmed, twisting his fingers together. It must’ve looked odd, York and him
together. There were sixteen years between them. They weren’t even a thing. Tonight
was just an anomaly. But he hadn’t been this intimate with an alpha in a long time, and
it was... nice. Just standing with York, breathing in his smoke-and-hickory scent.
Pretending that York wanted Perry as his own.
Okay, Perry really was going insane. There had to be a catch. No alpha had been this
nice to him, ever. Maybe York wouldn’t get violent unless he was really angry, and at
that point, Perry would have to fear for his life.
That would be when they started talking about Perry’s honey scent, wouldn’t it? When
York found out that Perry was pregnant with his child?
P ERRY KNEW HE SHOULDN ’ T , but he ended up bringing some of Caleb’s bedding
downstairs, to York’s apartment.
“Here’s the air mattress I have for my sis,” York said, pulling it out of a closet. “It’s big
enough for Caleb, right?”
“Looks like it.” Perry laid Caleb’s sheets and pillows down on it, then arranged Caleb’s
pirate ship tent over the mattress. And now it looked like Caleb’s bed, just in a different
apartment altogether.
Caleb poked his head into the bedroom. “I’m hungry.”
“Dinner’s in the oven,” York said. “You helped me make it, remember?”
Perry bit down his smile. Caleb had barged his way into the kitchen, demanding to
help. York had given him a butter knife and a chunk of cheese, and put Caleb in charge
of slicing up the tiny cubes.
It had made Perry’s insides melt, watching York demonstrate how to cut the cheese
cubes. York would be the perfect father. And Perry wanted more children from him.
Caleb grumbled and rubbed his tummy. “It’s taking forever.”
“Better than taking five-ever,” York said dryly.
“What’s five-ever?” Caleb crept into the bedroom, eyeing his temporary bed.
“It’s when four-ever becomes too long.” York held four fingers up. “See: four, five, six.”
“Oh.” Caleb looked at his own hands, giggling. “What about six-ever?”
“That’s when five-ever becomes too long.” York laughed.
“I hope that doesn’t mess with his spelling later,” Perry said dryly, cracking a smile.
“I’ll help,” York said.
“You’re offering a lot for only knowing me a short while,” Perry blurted.
York’s gaze slipped down to Perry’s abdomen, and Perry’s insides tightened. “Might be
knowing you for quite a while,” York murmured. “You’ve been smelling like honey.
That’s even before I cracked that jar open.”
Perry flushed, turning away. Were they having this conversation now? He eased out of
the bedroom, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t ready to commit to York. He’d never be
ready.
York caught up with him from behind, wrapping his arms around Perry’s waist. His
strong chest pressed against Perry’s back, and York dragged his nose down the shell of
Perry’s ear, sending a tingle down his nerves.
“You said you were on BC last week,” York murmured, his hand wandering down
Perry’s belly, then skimming to his side. “And you don’t smell like another alpha. Just
me.”
Perry froze, his heart pounding too loud. “I, um.”
“Did I get you pregnant?”
“I...” Fear prickled the back of Perry’s throat. If he told York the truth, what if York got
angry, and hurt Perry? But if Perry didn’t tell him the truth, then York would get even
more furious when he found out somehow. “I... Yes.”
York sucked in a slow breath.
Terror shot down Perry’s veins. He closed his eyes, expecting pain. York might throw
him against the wall, or beat him, or—
“When were you gonna tell me?” Instead of hitting Perry, York tightened his embrace.
Then he released Perry and turned him around, meeting his eyes. Perry’s stomach
flipped like a fish out of water. “Or were you just gonna keep it a secret forever?”
Yes. Maybe it showed on his face somehow, because York’s expression tightened.
“Why would you not tell me?”
It’s all going to hell now. His heart thumping so fast it could explode, Perry squirmed out
of his grip and made for the bedroom. If things went bad, he would grab Caleb and go.
But for now, he’d just gather Caleb’s things, so at least Caleb to return home to sleep
tonight.
“Perry.” York snagged his hand, turning him around.
Perry wobbled and yelped. Tried to back away from York. “I-I just...”
York caught up with him again. He grasped Perry’s arms and held him, so Perry
couldn’t wriggle away. “That’s my baby, too,” York murmured.
Perry’s face scorched. He hadn’t had much time to process it. Sometime today, his body
had begun to give off the honey scent of pregnancy, but he’d been distracted by
everything. First Micah, then York’s video. And the grocery trip, and that jar of honey
sitting on the kitchen counter. “I just—I need some time. I’m sorry.”
At that, York’s gaze softened. “Okay. But don’t run. You were gonna bolt, weren’t
you?”
Perry bit his lip, ashamed that York had read that, too. “Yes.”
“I want you here tonight.” York backed him against the wall.
Perry flinched, wondering if this was when York’s true colors would show.
York cupped Perry’s jaw in his hands. Then he tipped Perry’s face up, forcing Perry to
meet his eyes. “Why’re you so afraid of me?”
“I—” Perry’s throat squeezed. York was too close—Perry couldn’t escape like this.
Except the seconds dragged by, and York didn’t do anything. Just stood there, holding
Perry’s face, waiting for an answer.
Perry looked away, wetting his lips. He tried to speak, except he didn’t know what to
say. I’ve been keeping secrets from you. Caleb’s also your baby. I think you’ll hurt me if I tell
you any of my secrets. I’m afraid of being hurt again.
“Perry,” York whispered. Then he leaned in and kissed Perry softly on the lips, and
Perry’s heart almost thumped out of his chest.
“Y-you aren’t angry?” Perry squeaked, disbelieving.
“Not sure what to think,” York said against his lips. “But what were you gonna do with
the baby? Raise it by yourself?”
“Yes,” Perry mumbled, his skin too tight.
“You aren’t gonna abort it?”
Perry shook his head.
York frowned, confused. “Why?”
“I—I want the child.” That was safe enough to mention.
York narrowed his eyes. “So... When you said you were on BC last week...”
And now Perry wanted to burrow under the floorboards. His skin felt like it would peel
right off. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again. I just... I wanted the baby. I’m sorry.”
York pressed him up against the wall. “So you weren’t actually on BC.”
“No.” Perry closed his eyes, bracing himself for pain.
It never came. His entire body trembling, Perry cracked his eyes open, only to find York
watching him. “Were you gonna ask me for child support?”
Perry shook his head. “No. I wasn’t planning on seeing you again.”
“Except you like me.”
Perry’s breath shuddered out of him. “Yes.” It was his biggest weakness, and what
made him most vulnerable to York.
York growled. Then he threaded his fingers through Perry’s hair, and pressed a kiss to
Perry’s forehead. “Okay.”
“What?” Perry swayed on his feet, confused.
“I want visitation rights,” York said, meeting his eyes. “I want to be there when our
baby grows up. I want to be responsible for our baby, damn it.”
Despite Perry’s fear, despite his uncertainty, his heart thumped. York wanted to be
around. York wanted their baby. And Perry didn’t know what was worse—that he’d
see York for years to come, or that his heart... had just completely become York’s.
Perry loved this alpha. And York could never find out.
P ERRY ’ S pregnant with my baby.
York felt like he should be pissed, because Perry had lied about the BC. He should’ve
been aware of it. It was life-changing, damn it. Except now that he had Perry inches
away, uncertainty heavy in Perry’s eyes... York couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at
all.
“Does this have anything to do with your scars?” York murmured, brushing his
knuckles over Perry’s belly.
Perry stiffened; something like fear flickered in his eyes. Suspicion hissed in York’s gut.
“Who gave you those scars?” he growled.
Perry’s gaze skittered away. “Some—some people.”
“Someone hurt you? On purpose?” York pressed closer, his instincts snarling. “Who?”
“Just...” Perry looked even more nervous. “I had alphas in the past.”
His voice grew softer and softer, and York got the sense that this was what Perry was
afraid of. “You’re scared that I’m gonna hurt you like those alphas did.”
Perry gave a small, jerking nod. York wanted to snarl. Wanted to lash out at whoever
had turned Perry into someone this afraid. He growled, clenching his fists, thinking
about hunting down those alphas. Beating them up. Giving them a taste of their own
medicine. Who the fuck hurt omegas who couldn’t protect themselves?
Except Perry was more important. Keeping him safe. Making him feel safe.
York pressed his nose against Perry’s temple, kissing him there. “Sorry. I realize that I
should give you space. I know you don’t trust alphas. I just... Gods, I want to mark you
so bad. Give you my scent. Make you feel good.”
Perry whimpered, touching York’s hip. York made himself pull away. He made himself
take a step back. Perry hadn’t told him about the BC, because he was afraid York would
turn out like the other alphas who had hurt him. Okay, York could understand that.
Perry was keeping himself safe, and he should. If he wanted a baby for himself, that
was fine, too.
Except something about the pregnancy stuck in York’s brain. There hadn’t been any
barrier between them that night. Perry had taken York’s cock completely unprotected,
and now he had something of York’s in his belly.
That went straight to York’s cock, filling it up.
York swallowed, trying to ignore the growing tightness of his pants. “We should check
on the pizza,” he muttered, his voice rasping. Wasn’t interested in pizza right now.
Perry glanced at York’s hips. Then he whined, his pupils dilating. He still wanted York.
York’s pants grew tighter. He couldn’t help looking at the faint hickeys he’d left on
Perry’s neck last week. Wanted to leave more. Wanted Perry to be all his.
Something crashed behind the bedroom wall; they both jumped.
Then came another crash, and another, like a rhythmic thumping, growing faster and
faster until it became a vibration, almost. Then the moaning began—someone cried out,
high-pitched, like a wail.
It was the wall that separated York’s apartment from his neighbors’. As they stared at
the white plaster, the wailing grew louder. The vibration continued—a headboard
being slammed so fast against the wall that the sounds blurred into a low hum, and the
single picture frame on the wall trembled.
Perry peeled himself away from the wall, his eyes wide, his throat working. “Wow,” he
whispered, his voice stuck in his throat. The moans continued. York could already
picture the pair on the other side of the wall—someone was getting drilled, good and
hard.
Perry met York’s eyes. His blush deepened, spreading down his neck, to his chest. “I,
um.”
Hard not to think about fucking, when someone was doing exactly that in the next
room. And York knew exactly what that would feel like. How Perry would writhe
beneath him if they were to follow suit. He knew the tightness of Perry’s ass, the way
Perry would squeeze and clench around him, begging York for his come.
“Fuck,” York growled, palming his cock through his pants. It eased the ache a little.
“You want some of that?”
Perry whimpered, and the look in his eyes said, Please.
So maybe Perry might’ve been afraid of York, but in that moment, there was no fear at
all in his eyes, just desire. And he wasn’t even under the influence of his heat.
York wondered if there was time to haul Perry into his bed, and strip his clothes off.
Slide deep and hard into Perry’s ass, and massage him inside. Until he came all over
York’s bed. Twice. Maybe three times. Maybe they wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.
He took a step closer to Perry, thinking about pressing Perry against that vibrating wall,
reaching into Perry’s pants and stroking a quick release out of him, just an appetizer.
Maybe turn him around and finger his hole. Let the vibrating wall pleasure Perry’s
cock. Would Perry cream his pants?
Gods, York wanted Perry in his bed, all over again.
Caleb raced into the room, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “What’s that sound?”
York hadn’t even realized that Caleb had left the room. He glanced at the wall, and then
at Perry. Perry’s kid. His decision on how to explain this.
“It’s...” Perry glanced at the wall and cringed. “Someone’s doing some construction
next door.”
The neighbor moaned, loud and throatily. Caleb frowned, looking worried. “They got
hurt! Do we call the ambulance, Daddy?”
Perry swayed on his feet, his lips moving soundlessly.
York tried to suppress his snort. “I think they’ve already called the ambulance. Let’s go
look at the pizza before it burns. You’re hungry, right?”
Caleb nodded, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the trembling picture frame. So York
scooped him up, and carried him out of the bedroom.
In the kitchen, cheesy scents filled York’s nose. Perry staggered after them. Then he
glimpsed the jar of honey that York had set on the counter, and whimpered.
Yeah, York had plans for that honey. He set Caleb down at the table, checked on the
pizza, then grabbed the sliced ham from the fridge. “Who wants some honey ham?”
“Me!” Caleb raised both his hands.
“Gotcha.” York glanced at Perry. “Want some sweet meat?”
Perry groaned, scrubbing his face. “Yes.”
York was about to ask if Perry meant the ham, except Perry peeked through a crack in
his fingers, glancing at York’s hips. That sent a coil of pride through York’s chest.
He laid some slices of ham on a pan, unscrewed the honey jar, and drizzled a
tablespoonful of honey across the slices. Then he popped the pan into the oven, and
looked into his cabinets. Found a smaller jar. Emptied half his honey into it.
“Wh-what’re you doing?” Perry asked.
York smirked. “Archimedes’ principle. You know how when you submerge an object
into a liquid, the liquid levels will rise?”
Perry looked away, his face turning so red that York wanted to pull him close, and kiss
him on the lips.
York hadn’t met anyone who was this shy around him. It made him want to puff out
his chest, show off in front of Perry. Make Perry blush, make him smile. Gods, I can’t
believe I want to see him smile.
“Archi... Archi-what?” Caleb looked confused. “What’s that, Daddy?”
“Archimedes,” York said, grabbing a glass and filling it to the brim. “He was a guy who
lived a long time ago. See, there’s so much water in the glass, right? What happens
when you put an egg inside?”
Caleb threw his hands into the air. “It’s gonna splash!”
York fetched an egg from the fridge, held the glass over the sink, and dropped the egg
in. Water welled up over the brim, overflowing. “Yup, it splashes and makes a mess.”
“A mess!” Caleb brightened, hopping from foot to foot. “I wanna, I wanna try!”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” Perry scrubbed his face.
York grinned. “Guess it may as well be a learning experience. Here, Caleb.”
He grabbed the egg out of the glass, refilled it, and scooped Caleb into his arms. “Hold
this egg.” Caleb held it. Again, York held the glass over the sink. “Now, drop the egg
into the water.”
Caleb did so, and the glass overflowed. He giggled. Over York’s shoulder, Perry
covered his face. “This is really happening.”
York grinned. “Caleb’s enjoying it. Think the honey jar’s empty enough?”
Perry glanced at the jar. Then he looked back at York’s hips, and groaned. “I... honestly
have no idea.”
“Guess we’ll need to experiment, then.” York was looking forward to it, too. He wanted
to see Perry’s expression when he filled that honey jar with his cock.
When he set Caleb back on his feet, he found Perry looking at him with a mixed
expression. Part of it was desire. Part of it was amusement. And part of it... York didn’t
understand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Like Perry had said, they didn’t know each other very well. Except the way Perry
looked at York, all fondly... It felt like this wasn’t just the fourth time they’d met each
other.
Somehow, York got the strangest feeling that Perry had known him for a long time.
He can’t be FrogPrince. He’s too old. But why, then, did Perry feel so familiar?
And why did York already like him this much?
York had to be projecting his feelings. They’d glimpsed each other back in the college.
That had to be it. Except Perry was here, in person, and he wasn’t someone hiding
behind a computer screen. I’m over that bastard, anyway.
The oven timer rang, shrill in the small kitchen. Perry jumped. Caleb looked around,
sniffing hungrily. “Is it pizza time?”
York checked the oven. The cheese on the pizza had browned perfectly. Beneath that,
he’d piled on ground beef, bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms, all sautéed together
with some basil. “Yup. Looks like it’s pizza time.”
He sliced up the pizza. The first piece went to Caleb. The second, to Perry.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Perry said, cutting the pizza up into smaller bites for his son. He
brightened when York joined them at the table.
“I made sure not to forget this,” York said, setting the plate of honey-baked ham
between all of them. “Tell me if that’s enough meat for you. I made sure to prep a bit
extra.”
Perry blushed. “Gods, you aren’t going to stop with those meat puns, are you?”
“Not until I’ve filled you up, no.”
Perry made a soft, choked sound. He looked at his plate, squirming, his eyes dark with
anticipation.
York couldn’t wait for dinner to be over.

I T TOOK Caleb a while to fall asleep. Perry could almost feel York’s hunger through the
apartment’s thin walls, his frustration and anticipation.
Through all of dinner, York had raked his gaze down Perry’s body. He’d glanced at the
honey jar, and he’d reached down to adjust himself a few times. Perry didn’t have to
ask what had transpired in York’s mind. He’d imagined York and that honey, York
offering his honey-coated cock to Perry, and it was a miracle that Caleb hadn’t
mentioned all the musk billowing from their skin.
When Caleb finally, finally drifted off, Perry slipped out of the now-silent bedroom, and
shut the door.
York was waiting for him right outside, like he had that night they’d slept together.
Perry jumped, his cock filling up, eager to be touched. I shouldn’t be so desperate. We
shouldn’t be doing this.
“Hey,” York rumbled, meeting his eyes.
A jolt of heat slid down Perry’s spine. “Hi,” he answered, breathless.
York backed him up against the wall, tangling their fingers together. “Okay if I crowd
you like this?” York whispered, his breath warm on Perry’s lips.
Perry nodded, his awareness narrowing down to York’s large, solid body, and the wall
at his back. It felt intimate like this. Safe.
“You ain’t gonna run?”
Perry shook his head.
“Good.”
York’s hickory-and-smoke scent rode on every breath Perry took. He let himself admire
York—the broadness of York’s shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he yanked his
shirt up over his head. York’s pecs were bronzed, his nipples flat discs.
Perry’s throat went dry. He couldn’t help leaning in, pressing soft kisses all over York’s
chest. Just touching his vast expanse of muscle, York’s heat burning into his lips. Perry
licked his nipple, ran his tongue around its edge, until it pulled into a tight pebble.
York growled, his gaze darkening. “Kitchen.”

The honey jar was waiting for them. Perry whimpered, burying his face against York’s
strong chest. He followed the grooves of York’s sculpted abs, his entire body growing
taut. He wanted to rub himself all over York. Nakedly. Except he couldn’t risk York
glimpsing his tattoo. “You really want that honey.”
“I want you licking it off my cock, yeah.”
Perry throbbed. He could already imagine York’s cock inside his mouth, thrusting,
dripping precome all over his tongue.
“You like that, huh?” York grinned, catching Perry’s hand. He’d changed into a pair of
sleeping shorts, his half-hard cock pressed against the thin material, a tantalizing line.
The moment Perry glimpsed it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted York inside
him, opening him up. He’d been dreaming about it the whole week.
York cupped Perry’s hand around his cock. It was thick, half-hard. It jerked when Perry
squeezed it, growing full, pressing hungrily against Perry’s hand. Like it wanted to
slide inside Perry, and it wanted him now. Perry’s breath whooshed out of his lungs.
“Gods, you feel good,” York rasped, grinding into Perry’s palm. “Been thinking about
you all night. Wanna feed you my cock. Wanna hear you cream yourself. I want to fuck
you until you can’t walk straight tomorrow.”
Perry groaned, his knees growing weak. Having York interested in him was one thing.
Having York fantasize about him... That was such a compliment.
“You liked having my come inside you,” York growled softly in his ear, the points of
his teeth dragging down Perry’s earlobe. “Me filling you up, pumping you full.”
“And—And your knot?” Perry whispered, his hole squeezing.
York groaned, rolling his hips, his covered cock dragging hot and heavy down Perry’s
hand. “Fuck, yeah. I’ll give you my knot, if that’s what you want.”
Perry’s hole squeezed. He’d only had York’s knot once before. “Please.”
York’s breath rushed out of him. He pinned Perry to the wall and caught his chin,
slanting their lips together. There wasn’t so much as a chaste kiss tonight; York slid
right into Perry’s mouth, tasting him inside. Probing him, claiming him. Owning that
space inside Perry. Perry’s blood swooped between his legs, a moan slipped out of his
throat.
“Has anyone told you how fucking hot you are?” York growled against Perry’s lips. He
dragged his palm down Perry’s spine, pulling Perry flush against himself.
He really wants me. Perry whimpered, stroking York through his shorts.
That seemed like answer enough, because York nudged his mouth further open,
devouring him. His thoughts short-circuiting, Perry slipped his hand past York’s
waistband, needing to touch his alpha.
Inside the soft sleeping shorts, he found York’s cock straining up, hot and velvety, its
precome smearing across Perry’s skin. It was big. Insistent. And Perry could imagine it
opening his hole, sinking in inch by slow inch, waking every single nerve.
He must’ve made a sound, because York growled, his musk billowing around them, his
hands spreading Perry’s ass through his pants.
“Fuck, Perry,” York hissed. “Need to give you my cock.”
Perry’s body squeezed tight, his slick soaking through his underwear. York eased his
hand down the back of Perry’s pants. He cupped Perry’s ass through his briefs, his
fingers warm and strong. Then he found the patch of soaked fabric and swore, his
fingertips pressing hard against Perry’s hole, forcing Perry to open around him, fabric
and all.
Perry cried out in surprise, scrabbling against York. He’s inside me. His cock grew so
hard, it felt like it might tear through his pants. “Y-York!”
“Fuck, yeah. Want me in there?” York growled, pushing his fingertip deeper inside,
until he could go no further. “Here?”
And then he stopped moving completely, so all Perry felt was the tip of York’s finger, a
heady presence he couldn’t ignore. But it wasn’t enough.
“You can’t stop there—” Perry squirmed, trying to shove himself down onto York’s
hand, except his underwear prevented York from getting any deeper.
“What do you want?” York growled, hitching Perry up against himself, crooking his
fingertip inside Perry, just the slightest bit. To remind Perry how intimately they were
touching.
“More,” Perry breathed, squeezing around him. “Please.”
“Yeah?” York’s eyes gleamed. He slid his free hand between them, cupping Perry’s
cock through his pants. Then he withdrew his finger, pushed his hand down the back of
Perry’s briefs, and there wasn’t a single barrier between them anymore.
When he touched Perry’s hole this time, it was skin on bare skin, York’s fingertip
circling Perry’s entrance. York curled two fingers between Perry’s cheeks, then spread
them, forcing Perry’s cheeks apart. This left his hole vulnerable. Perry whimpered,
needing more, his spine arching, his mouth falling open. York had access to his most
intimate parts now.
“Very nice,” York growled, stroking Perry’s entrance. Slick smeared between them.
“York,” Perry breathed, his attention fixed onto that one spot, where York had every bit
of power over him. He grasped York’s arms, trying to hold onto something so he
wouldn’t come apart right there.
York pushed a finger into Perry’s hole. Then another joined the first, opening Perry
further. He’s inside, he’s inside. Perry panted, his cock throbbing, his balls pulling tight.
He shouldn’t be this sensitive to York. He shouldn’t feel like he was right on the knife
edge of climax, except everything about York made him need.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” York rasped, pushing his fingers deeper. “Gonna wrap so nice
around my cock, Perry. Gonna loosen you up a bit. I don’t think I can fit inside you
right now.”
When would that happen? Perry clutched at him, his blood rushing down, bliss surging
through his veins. He couldn’t think, not when York swirled his fingers, brushing
Perry’s prostate, sending a frisson of pleasure down his limbs.
York groaned. “You like this?” he rasped, plunging his fingers deeper, thrusting them
so hard that he shoved Perry forward, until Perry was all but sitting on his hand, his
cock riding York’s palm through his too-tight pants.
“I c-can’t—” Perry gasped, shuddering when York found his prostate. York circled it,
then pressed down hard and squeezed Perry’s cock, a demanding pressure that ripped
Perry’s release through his body.
He cried out, pleasure lancing through him. His mind went blank. Thick fluid spurted
from his cock. For long moments, he couldn’t move. Could only ride the rush while
York held him, his fingers still thrusting inside Perry, his scent filling Perry’s lungs.
Perry sagged forward, leaning bonelessly against York, his pants damp and messy. “I...
I...”
“Fuck,” York growled, his musk heavy in the air between them. “That made you
come?”
Perry’s face burned. He nodded, unable to meet York’s eyes. Would York see through
him, and realize that Perry had come so fast because he craved York’s presence?
York kissed Perry’s forehead. He slipped his fingers out of Perry, and fumbled with the
front of Perry’s pants, popping the button open. The zipper rasped.
York hooked his thumbs into Perry’s clothes and pulled them down, exposing Perry’s
come-smeared cock, and the fabric he’d drenched with it. Perry flushed, squirming
uncomfortably. He hadn’t come in his pants since... high school, maybe? That was two
decades ago.
But all York did was rumble and kneel, licking the wet smears off Perry’s thigh. Then he
took Perry’s cock into his hot, snug mouth, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it
clean. Pleasure jolted up Perry’s spine; he grasped York’s hair, crying out.
“You like?” York grinned, meeting Perry’s gaze. Then, still looking at Perry, York
stroked his soft tongue up the underside of Perry’s cock. Perry’s entire head scorched.
“Damn, you taste good.”
York slid Perry’s foreskin off his tip, closing his mouth around that sensitive head.
Dragged his teeth ever so lightly against Perry’s skin. Electricity sizzled down Perry’s
nerves; he arched. York kissed down Perry’s cock, sucking off every last drop of come.
“That’s...” Perry flushed, embarrassed. He’d never had an alpha take time to pleasure
him. There had to be a catch to this, somehow.
“That’s delicious.” York licked his lips, glancing between Perry’s legs. “Gonna come
more for me?”
“Oh, gods.” Perry covered his cock, embarrassed. But it jerked in York’s grasp, eager for
more. York rumbled in approval; Perry wanted to hide his face.
“Kitchen,” York growled. “I’ve got plans. Honey first. Then I’m gonna bend you over
and give you a good pounding.” He palmed his cock, jerking it a couple times. A dark,
damp spot had bloomed at his tip, and the thick line tenting his sleeping shorts made it
difficult for Perry to look anywhere else.
Perry’s insides ached. His slick dripped down his inner thighs; York gathered it with his
fingertips, tasting Perry.
“You’re shameless,” Perry groaned.
York rumbled. “I know what I want, and I’m not stopping until I get it.”
From the intent, hungry look York gave him... There was only one place York’s cock
would end up tonight. Lodged deep inside Perry’s ass. Perry’s face burned.
York stood and tugged Perry into the kitchen, where the honey jar sat innocently on the
kitchen counter, half-full. York picked it up, raking his gaze down Perry’s front. “You
wanna do the honors, or should I?”
Perry dared to trace the line of York’s erection. Heat throbbed through the thin fabric,
soaking into his fingertips. York groaned. Perry’s insides tightened, his hands shook
with need. “I c-can’t. I’d just spill it everywhere.”
“If you spill it on me, you’re gonna have to lick it up.” York slipped the waistband of
his shorts down, so his cock jutted up, musk rippling off it.
Perry’s hole squeezed; a moan slipped from his throat.
“Getting ready for me?” York growled, reaching over to squeeze Perry’s cock. Perry
jerked into his callused hand, chasing his pleasure. Except York pulled his touch away,
leaving Perry bereft.
Then he unscrewed the lid of the honey jar, and handed it to Perry. “Do it. Dip me in.”
Perry’s blood surged between his legs. He took the jar York handed him, almost
dropping it. Stared at York’s thick cock. Then he grasped York’s base—gods, he was
warm—and angled him down, clumsily fitting York’s tip into the honey jar.
“Looks good inside,” York rumbled.
“Y-You mean, inside the jar,” Perry said, his mouth dry as a desert.
“Both. Jar and you.”
Perry dripped. He lifted the jar, dipping York’s tip into golden honey. The fluid swelled
up around his length, until his tip hit the bottom of the jar, and the honey’s surface
kissed the jar’s rim. There were still two inches of cock left untouched.
“What does that feel like?” Perry croaked. It wasn’t every day that he witnessed an
alpha fucking a honey jar, his cock so thick that he barely cleared the jar’s mouth.
“Kinda cold.” York laughed. “Wet. Nothing like being inside you.”
Perry swallowed, squirming hard.
York took the jar from Perry, wrapping his fingers around his own cock. Then he
lowered the honey jar, letting the viscous fluid drip off. It left a golden, glistening sheen
on him, highlighting every vein and contour. York looked delicious.
“Want a taste?” York caught some drips with the mouth of the jar, then let his cock
spring back up. The remaining honey began to flow down his length, toward his heavy
balls.
His mouth watering, Perry knelt and leaned in, pressing his nose against York’s sac. He
kissed York there first, filling his lungs with York’s scent. York bit off his growl, his eyes
darkening, his breath snagging in his throat. “Fuck, Perry.”
York wound his fingers through Perry’s hair, his chest heaving, his pupils blowing
wide.
Perry kissed up his cock, licking off the droplets that threatened to drip. Sweetness
burst across his tongue, and York groaned.
“You look incredible,” York murmured, pulling Perry closer to himself, rubbing his
honey-coated cock against Perry’s lips. Somehow, that felt like a lewd, forbidden kiss.
Perry groaned, dragging his tongue up York’s length, gathering that rich fluid and
swallowing it. It was a lot like sex, with the drips and the mess, except the honey was
sweet, and not very slippery. But licking would take a long time. Perry didn’t want to
wait.
So he grasped the base of York’s cock, angled it toward himself, and closed his mouth
around York’s thick head. Honey saturated his mouth; York’s cock sat solidly on his
tongue, promising pleasure. Perry sucked the honey off his skin.
“F-fuck.” York groaned, his hips jerking. He was trying to hold himself still, and the
strain of it made him tremble.
Perry dragged his lips down York’s cock, sucking off what he could of the honey.
York’s erection pulsed against his hand; York shivered, panting. His eyes were dark,
consumed by hunger. It felt as though York was a second away from pinning Perry
down, and plunging his cock right inside Perry’s ass. Perry’s breath rushed out; his
slick trickled down his thighs.
“You look so damn good,” York rasped. And yet he held himself still, allowing Perry to
lick his cock.
Perry had never had an alpha completely at his command. “How good?”
“I want to shove you up against the counter,” York growled, trailing his fingertips
down Perry’s throat, caressing his hickeys. “I want to spread your ass. Open you up.
Fuck you until you scream my name and come.”
Perry’s hole tightened. He swallowed, his cock half-hard, ready for the next round.
“And then what?”
“And then I’ll knot inside you. Maybe fuck you again. Give you that wall-shaking
drilling like the neighbors had. Do it better than them.”
Perry imagined York pounding into his ass, completely owning him. His body
squeezed, twice as earnestly as before. He shoved his palm against his aching cock,
moaning. What would it feel like to be ravaged by York?
“Fuck,” York whispered. “You sound so good when you moan.”
He pulled his cock out of Perry’s mouth, rubbing its thick, sticky length against Perry’s
face. It was heavy. Big. Almost threatening, except Perry knew the pleasure it could
give him. He angled York’s cock down so he could lick the rest of it clean, swallowing
the rest of the honey. Then, York’s salty precome.
York grasped Perry’s hair, and pushed his cock back into Perry’s mouth. It slid in easily,
heavy and thick, and Perry had to concentrate on breathing around it because of its size.
“This is how I’m gonna claim you,” York murmured, rolling his hips, slowly fucking
Perry’s mouth with his cock. In, out, in, out, like how it’d kiss inside Perry’s ass.
Perry whined, reaching down, grasping his cheeks to spread them. “York, please. I need
you.”
York’s breath punched out of his chest. He reached under Perry’s arms and hauled him
to his feet. Turned Perry around, pressing Perry’s chest against the kitchen wall. It felt
like a police frisking, almost. Except firefighters didn’t do that.
Then York stepped up close, his chest against Perry’s back, his cock shoving against the
seat of Perry’s pants.
“Can’t wait longer,” York growled, ripping Perry’s pants down his ass. Then he hauled
Perry’s hips toward himself, angling Perry’s ass up so it was ready to take his cock.
Perry throbbed, his hole leaking. “York—”
York slid his hot cock between Perry’s cheeks, his thickness keeping Perry’s ass spread.
“Ready for me?”
Perry whimpered. “Gods, yes. Please.”

York rocked against Perry’s hole, smearing Perry’s slick down his length. Then he
dipped a couple fingers into Perry, and wiped that wetness onto his cock, mixing it with
Perry’s saliva. “Gonna fill you up all at once.”
Holy gods. Perry panted, grasping his asscheeks, spreading them to expose his hole.
York’s breath rushed out of him. Then he tightened his grip on Perry’s hips and shoved
his cock roughly between Perry’s cheeks. “Gonna take my cock?”
“Please,” Perry whimpered, his throat going bone-dry.
“Gonna fill you up,” York panted, his blunt tip dragging against Perry’s hole, a teasing,
heavy pressure. “Gonna—”
He snapped his hips. Perry opened around him, taking half his cock. His breath rushed
out of his lungs. Stretched around his alpha, Perry tried to breathe. Then York
withdrew slightly, and the next thrust had him sinking deeper, filling Perry up inside.
Perry scrabbled against the wall, his body so full of cock that his own length ached.
“Good?” York rasped, pulling Perry down further, so Perry took every last inch.
Perry nodded, incoherent. He couldn’t think past York inside him, York thrusting deep,
his cock rubbing sweetly against Perry’s prostate.
“Fuck,” York hissed, pulling out, before slamming back inside.
Bliss rocked through Perry. He arched. His cock pulsed at York’s presence inside him,
his balls growing tight. York continued the hard, insistent thrusting, until he’d buried
himself balls-deep inside Perry, and Perry was sure he’d burst from how much cock he
had inside him. “Y-York!”
“Good?” York whispered, his breath hot on Perry’s shoulder.
Perry sobbed, the pleasure and need in his body building. “P-please! I need—”
York wrapped his arm around Perry, squeezing his cock so electricity shot down his
veins. “Hard for me.”
“Y-York—”
York plunged into him, grinding Perry’s thoughts out of his mind. “Fuck, you feel
good,” York growled, snapping his hips so his cock slid home, lodging deep inside
Perry’s body. “Gonna give you every single inch.”
His solid chest pressed against Perry’s back; his wrist slid down Perry’s throat. York
pinned Perry against the wall, so Perry’s cock ground against the glossy paint, smearing
precome all over. Then York began to fuck deep, trapping Perry’s cock against the wall,
his own cock growing thicker as he neared the edge.
Perry’s body wound tight; his cock ached with need. “York, I c-can’t—” His sensitive
tip ground against a patch of dry paint, and pain and pleasure shot up his spine.
York snarled when Perry squeezed around him. Perry braced himself against the wall,
pushing back at York, taking every inch that York pounded into him.
He was completely York’s, inside and out. Perry would do whatever York asked of him.
“Come for me,” York growled. He heaved Perry up, until only his tip remained inside.
Then he bit down on Perry’s shoulder, and pain twisted through Perry’s nerves, at the
same time York sank him back down, his cock thrusting inside Perry, claiming him.
Pleasure rocked through Perry’s body; he came with a cry, clenching around York, his
cock pulsing, his body spasming with every jolt of sensation.
York swore, his thrusts turning feverish. He anchored himself inside Perry and fucked
hard, and his cock jerked, warmth filling Perry as York came with a roar.
They panted for long moments, York tangling his fingers with Perry’s, holding him
upright against the wall. If it weren’t for York, Perry would’ve collapsed into a puddle
of goop, so boneless was he after his second release.
York nuzzled Perry’s sweaty hair. He dropped kisses down Perry’s neck, then sniffed at
his scent gland, the one at the crook of his shoulder. “Been thinking about giving you a
marking,” York murmured. “It’s too soon, though. Unless you want it for the baby.”
Perry’s heart skipped. “You—you mean on my neck?”
Scent gland bites were permanent. York couldn’t possibly mean that.
“I meant, with my scent.” York slid his hands down Perry’s chest, lightly holding his
hips. “But I’d give you a bonding mark if you want that.”
Heat crept through Perry’s face. More than anything, he wanted York’s mark. “You
don’t have to. We don’t even know if the pregnancy will be successful.”
York frowned. “But—”
“I’m thirty-eight,” Perry made himself say. “I don’t know if my body will reject the
baby.”
He needed to make sure York knew all of this. There was no way Perry would hide any
information from York, more than he already had.
York was silent for a moment. Perry’s heart sank. He sagged forward, leaning against
the wall so he didn’t have to rely on York so much.
But York pulled Perry back against his chest. “Okay,” York said eventually. “But I can
do scent markings. You okay with that?”
Scent markings were temporary. They involved York tracing his scent glands down
Perry’s body, and Perry’s skin tingled with anticipation. “Y-yes,” he said, hoping his
desire didn’t show. “Please.”
Y ORK RUMBLED , reaching under Perry’s shirt. He pressed the scent glands on his wrists
against Perry’s chest, dragging them down, leaving a trail of hickory on Perry’s skin.
Perry blushed. York had done the same on that night years ago, when Perry had been
wearing the frog mask. Perry had smelled like York for days after he’d left, and his
heart had ached.
Slowly, York brushed his wrists down Perry’s sides, then his arms, his collarbones, his
throat. And now Perry smelled like York all over.
Something inside him settled, like he’d found home.
“Feels like you’re mine,” York rumbled, pulling Perry flush against his chest.
Perry’s face burned. York’s touch lit up his nerves; Perry didn’t think he’d ever get
enough of his alpha. “You’re reading too much into this,” he mumbled.
York huffed against his ear. “You don’t wanna be mine?”
Gods, I want to. Perry’s pulse raced. “I-I’ll have to think about it.”
York dropped a kiss on Perry’s head. “Want my knot in the meantime?”
It had already begun to swell inside Perry, a wide, heavy presence that stretched Perry
further. He tightened around it, savoring York’s claim on him. “Yes.”
York grunted, rolling his hips to push his knot deeper into Perry. This sent a hum of
pleasure through their bodies; they both groaned.
“I can’t have enough of you,” York growled, rubbing his wrist over Perry’s hips, and
down his cock. “Every time I tell myself this isn’t gonna last, I find myself looking for
you anyway.”
Well. At least they were both aware that this was temporary. “You probably shouldn’t,”
Perry said.
York sighed, nuzzling Perry’s ear. “I think I’m going insane.”
“Me, too.”
York laughed softly. “Really? You like being around me?”
Perry couldn’t answer that. But his skin flushed red, betraying him.
York growled. “Gods, I like you.”
Perry’s stomach flipped. “You don’t know me.”
“I look forward to knowing you better.” York rolled his hips, his growing knot moving
inside Perry. “And deeper.”
Perry groaned, hiding his face. “I can’t believe you’re cracking dirty jokes.”
“You blush when I do.” There was a smile in York’s voice. “I can’t believe you get so
flustered. It’s a treat.”
York’s knot swelled fully, a pleasant, heavy weight inside Perry that locked them
together. If Perry weren’t already pregnant, he’d be so aroused by York’s come trapped
inside him, ensuring that Perry would bear his child by the end of tonight.
Perry blushed, tightening around his alpha’s knot. York growled and pinned him
against the wall, kissing down Perry’s neck. “Gonna spend the night here?”
Perry’s shirt had ridden up his back. He tugged it back down before York glimpsed the
tattoo, holding it snug around his hips. “I... guess I am. Caleb’s asleep.” But he needed
to hide the tattoo, somehow. “Maybe I should share the room with Caleb.”
York’s stare prickled his scalp. “I was gonna invite you to share my bed.”
Perry’s heart yearned. “I... have no sleeping clothes.”
York snorted. “We’ve fucked twice. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked.”
You actually haven’t, not completely. Perry squirmed. “I’m not... comfortable with you
seeing my body.”
“Okay.” York nuzzled his hair. “You could borrow my PJs.”
Maybe York might like the thought of Perry in his clothes so much, that he wouldn’t try
to lift it off Perry’s back. Would it work? Would Perry have to wake early to sneak out
of York’s bed? “I guess I could,” Perry said, his nerves pulling tight. “I hope I’m not
imposing.”
York growled, anchoring Perry against himself. “If anything, I’m the one imposing. You
can do whatever you want here.”
“Including kiss you?” Perry blurted. Then he swore at himself. He hadn’t meant to let
that slip.
York peeked over Perry’s shoulder, his eyes dark. “You wanna?”
Then he cupped Perry’s face to bring his lips closer, and caught them in a soft, sweet
kiss. Perry’s toes curled; his heart skipped.
“You shouldn’t,” he whispered.
“You’re not even pulling away.” York kissed him again, his lips velvety, like bliss on
Perry’s skin. “You like my kisses.”
Perry flushed.
“Gods, you’re damn adorable.” York pressed Perry against the wall, dropping kisses all
over his face, wherever he could reach. He slipped his hand up the back of Perry’s shirt,
right over the tattoo, and a tendril of panic crept through Perry’s chest.
He’s not looking there. He won’t realize a thing if you don’t react to it.
York raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong?”
Damn it. Perry gulped. “I, um.”
York leaned in, nuzzling Perry’s cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
You can’t fix this. “Maybe we shouldn’t be... standing in the kitchen,” Perry said. “What
if Caleb wakes up and wants a drink?”
York gave him a long look. “That’s not what you’re actually worried about, is it?”
Perry squirmed, looking at his feet. “No. I just... I can’t talk about it.”
He leaned his shoulders against York’s chest, to hide the tattoo from his view. Then he
pulled York’s hand out from under his shirt and brought it up, kissing York’s knuckles.
At some point, when you find out... All of this will be over. I need to prepare myself for that.
York blew out a breath. “I hope you’ll tell me about it someday.”
“Maybe.”
Perry traced York’s large fingers, wondering about the pleasure they could give, and
possibly the pain. Since they’d met, York hadn’t once hurt him at all. Would that
happen at some point?
Ron had been scathing, but he’d held off on the violence until Perry had moved in. Zac
had thrown Perry against the walls and hissed, You’ll obey me, and no one else.
Then there had been Perry’s father, who had beat and slapped him, worse when Perry
had run away from home as a child. Dad had been angry a lot. He wasn’t around
anymore, but Perry couldn’t help tensing whenever an alpha lost their temper.
York wrapped his arms around Perry, kissing his neck. “Didn’t give you hickeys this
time. I thought I’d ask first.”
Distracted from those depressing memories, Perry laughed. “I didn’t mind them. But
the other professors asked who I was seeing.”
“You told them?”
Perry shook his head. “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”
York rumbled, tightening his arms around Perry. “You could tell them this time. If... If
you want.”
Perry’s entire body flushed. “You’re... Are you asking me out?”
“I’m asking you to be my boyfriend, yeah.” York dragged his wrist down Perry’s belly,
and Perry’s thoughts whirled so fast, he couldn’t catch them.
“I... I don’t know,” he said, all the air sucked out of his lungs. “I don’t think we should.”
“Why?”
Aside from all my secrets? “I... I’m kind of older than you.”
“Yeah, and you say that with my knot inside you.”
Perry’s face burned. It felt like he was blushing all the time now that he was seeing
York, and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing. “I don’t think we have... any common
interests.”
“Aside from the baby?” York rubbed Perry’s abdomen. “You were watching my Frog
Island video this evening. How’d you even come across it?”
Perry didn’t know how to answer that. How did you tell your alpha you’d been
watching his videos for years? “I, um. I used to play the game. A long time ago.”
“Yeah?” York perked up, trying to meet Perry’s eyes. “Why’d you stop?”
“I... I didn’t have any more time.” Perry shrugged awkwardly. “I had Caleb, and then I
just... I was busy.”
“Not many people play that game.” York looked hard at Perry, his gaze too sharp.
“Were you in Meadowfall? Five years ago?”
Perry stopped breathing. Oh, gods. Don’t figure it out right now. “I’ve always been here. I
just... I’ve been busy. Besides, it was a fairly popular game back then.”
But if he let York linger too long on this subject... York would discover the truth. “Are
you sure you want this baby?” Perry asked, touching his abdomen. “I don’t think it’s a
good idea to get together just because of a child. You have your future ahead of you.”
“Perry.” York grasped Perry’s arms, gentle but firmly, and Perry realized York was
making sure he couldn’t run. “I knew someone a long time ago. His name was
FrogPrince. He... He smelled like you. We talked to each other for years.”
Gods. Oh, gods. Don’t talk about it now. Perry held his breath, and made himself focus on
the drying stains on the wall. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you remind me of him. A lot.”
I need to go before he finds out. “I’m just me. Perry.”
“Look at me when you say that.”
Oh, gods. I need to be strong. Focus, Perry! You can’t freak out right now. Perry forced
himself to calm down. He forced himself to take slow, even breaths, and pasted a smile
on his face. His heart thudded so hard, it felt like it might fracture his ribs.
Then Perry glanced over his shoulder, and smiled again at York. “You’re probably
mistaking me for someone else.”
York stared at him. All of this felt wrong—York’s knot inside Perry, Perry lying bald-
faced to him.
This isn’t going to last. He won’t remember me after I’m gone. Perry justified the lie with
that, even as his insides twisted.
After another moment, York breathed out. “Okay. Sorry. I was just... I thought for a
moment you were someone else.”
And you’d be right. Perry gulped, looking back at the wall. “I can go home, if you’d like.”
“No.” York pulled Perry against himself. “I want you around.”
Perry closed his eyes, sagging into York’s chest. He needed to put as much distance
between them as he could. Save them both the pain of York finding out.
But York offered comfort, and after this scare, Perry’s self-control had plummeted into
the negatives. Zac was right. I’m really the worst human ever. I don’t deserve to be called a
person.
“After my shift tomorrow... Do you wanna meet up?” York murmured. “Come over
and play games with me. I’ll find some entertainment for Caleb, too.”
Perry bit his lip. You can’t still want me around. “We’ll see about that. I might be busy
with work.”
Really so he wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
“Okay,” York rumbled, kissing him again. Perry trembled.
He had to stop seeing York. The problem was... Perry loved him too much to stay away.
P ERRY WAS GONE by the time York woke.
York dismissed his phone alarm, smoothing his palm over the still-warm bedspread.
Perry had left the bed not too long ago—for a bathroom visit? No, the entire apartment
was silent.
Sunlight slanted in through the window, lighting up dust motes in the air. York lay
back against his pillows. He still felt the weight of Perry’s body in his arms. Still
remembered the tickle of Perry’s hair against his jaw, Perry’s warmth burning into his
skin.
Last night, after York’s knot had receded, Perry had dragged him into bed. He’d worn
York’s pajamas, opened his legs, and York had taken everything Perry offered.
He’d kissed Perry, he’d left a fresh trail of hickeys down Perry’s shoulder, and he’d
fucked Perry so hard that Perry had come another three times before York had his own
release.
Then, despite his plans to stay awake after Perry had fallen asleep, York had
succumbed to his own exhaustion.
So much for checking Perry’s back for a tattoo.
York stared at the ceiling, scrubbing his face. Upstairs, footsteps thumped. Perry was
home with Caleb, then.
At least there was a bright side to them being neighbors.
Was there another bright side? Perry being so similar to FrogPrince, that they could’ve
been the same person?
Perry had been nervous last night, when York had mentioned the Frog Island video.
He’d dropped his phone at the playground. Then York had asked where he’d been five
years ago, and Perry had tensed and squirmed.
But that too-bright smile Perry had given York... that had been the most suspicious of
all. Perry never smiled that way at York.
Of course, Perry had to disappear right before York woke, too, and damn if FrogPrince
hadn’t done the exact same thing.
York picked up his phone. Opened the text conversation with Perry. On impulse, he
typed, You know, if you’re trying to convince me that you aren’t FrogPrince, you shouldn’t act
like him so much.
He sent it. Then he listened to the footsteps upstairs, the way Perry’s chatter suddenly
stopped.
After a moment, Perry spoke to Caleb again, but his tone was quieter, his footsteps a
little more hurried than before.
Could he be...? The person York couldn’t forgive—he was living upstairs all along?
Perry smelled just like that bastard had. He taught at the college, too. He’d played Frog
Island, he’d watched York’s videos. He was all soft and mellow like FrogPrince had
been, and gods knew he’d been just as desperate in bed.
York’s heart quickened. If Perry was FrogPrince... then York should let him go,
shouldn’t he?
Except there was that baby in Perry’s belly. And York’s feelings for him.
Despite the uncertainty between them—Perry’s possible identity as FrogPrince, and the
way he’d been keeping secrets from York—York couldn’t help the way his heart raced
when he thought about Perry.
He knew how much Perry loved his son. He knew how hard Perry worked so he could
raise Caleb himself. He’d seen Perry flustered so many damn times, all because of York.
Because Perry liked York and he was scared, and that struck York deepest in his chest.
Had FrogPrince... also liked York? The same way Perry did?
York swallowed, his heart pounding. He reached for his phone. Perry hadn’t answered,
but York couldn’t help sending another message. Are you FrogPrince?
Footsteps quickened upstairs. Then the door slammed, and there was no more sound.
Part of York hoped that Perry would show up at his door. The other part of him knew
that Perry had just left for work, and that he wouldn’t see Perry again until after his
shift, at the earliest.
With a sigh, York scrubbed his face and hauled himself out of bed. He had a job at the
station. Fires to put out, people to save.
Would be nice if he knew how to save his own heart.

“H EY , Y ORK ! B RIEFING TIME !” Dom snapped his fingers, waving York over.
York dried off the last of Engine 1, then set the towel aside, jogging over to the
whiteboard at the back of the station. The rest of the firefighters had already gathered.
Their team leader, Harris, stood sternly next to the whiteboard. Harris was older, with
salt-and-pepper hair, and it was no secret that he’d married both an alpha and an
omega. His alpha, Valen, led the C team at the station.
Harris’ second-in-charge, Dom, checked something off on his clipboard. He was older,
too, lean, with a no-nonsense scowl and a temper to match. Why Harris picked Dom to
be his second, well. Probably because Dom would whip anyone into shape.
Alec slung his arm around York’s shoulders when York paused next to him. “Hey,”
Alec said, winking. “I know you have a date with the truck, but station matters come
first.”
“I don’t have a date with the truck!” York scowled at his friend.
“You’ve been staring at it like a lovestruck fool,” Alec whispered. “Did it tell you
something we should all hear about?”
So maybe York had been thinking about Perry, because Perry had all but vanished for
the past three weeks.
York elbowed Alec; Gareth whacked Alec on the shoulder. “Shush,” Gareth muttered.
“Or Dom will have your ass.”
Dom raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, but no.”
Harris cleared his throat. “As I was saying.”
Everyone snapped to attention.
“Community Day’s coming up this weekend. We’ll be in charge of three of the

demonstrations,” Harris said. “Brad and York will do the extinguisher demo. Alec and
Nate, the fire safety talk. Gareth, you’ll be on crowd-control duty with Jesse.”
“Shouldn’t Nate do the extinguisher demo?” Alec asked cheekily. “You know, with all
his previous classified experience. I’ll bet he could show us some really cool things.”
Nate threw Alec a dirty look. “Nope. Not going there.”
Rumor was that Nate had been a spy in his past life. Alec had been sharing with York
bits and pieces about Nate. York was curious, but he was still too new at the station to
ask about any of it. He couldn’t help his burning curiosity, though.
“I’d trade spots with you,” Brad said with a grin. “Show us your flamethrower
techniques, bro.”
Nate flipped him off, and Brad held his hands up. York didn’t miss the black wedding
band on Brad’s finger.
What was it like, being married?
“You really don’t want to see it,” Jesse said darkly. “But yeah, you’ll want Nate around
for the apocalypse.”
“You knew Nate from before?” York blurted.
Jesse was a burly alpha—they were all alphas on this team, all muscled, but Jesse was
especially built. And scarred. The other rumor was that Nate had brought Jesse out of
somewhere worse than hell, and they’d come to Meadowfall with a few others to start a
new life.
Jesse shrugged. “Kinda.”
Harris briefed them more on Community Day, then dismissed them. And then it was
finally time to head home.
York stretched, making mental notes of the things he was supposed to do. The C shift
was coming in—Valen slipped into the station, bumping Harris’ side. Their fingers
tangled, and they exchanged a quick kiss.
York had seen alphas kiss before—his dad had married a couple of them—but it was
especially weird when it was your team leader, and the team leader of another shift.
Someone whistled at them.
“Shut up, Cole,” Valen said, scowling over his shoulder.
York stiffened, the low burn of anger coiling in his gut. He’d never liked Cole. Not
because Cole was annoying or anything like that, but because Cole had caused the
house fire that had given York’s dad all those injuries. For years, Dad had to live with
the scars that had taken all his confidence away.
Dad had finally found happiness, but the house fire, the terror and sadness and
helplessness York felt... He couldn’t forget it. Even if his dad had told him time and
again, that the fire was an accident. Even if Cole had apologized. Dad had been in the
hospital for weeks, and at times, York hadn’t known if Dad would live through the
night.
How could he forgive Cole? What did forgiveness even feel like?
Cole strode into the station, bumping fists with Gareth and Brad. Then he turned, and
locked gazes with York.
Since York joined the station, they’d only met each other a few times. York was glad
that he hadn’t been placed on the same team as Cole. It would’ve been the same as
having to see FrogPrince—someone you hated, someone you knew you were supposed
to forgive, but you couldn’t.
York turned away, heading to the locker rooms. In his head, he heard his dad say, Please
forgive Cole. He didn’t mean it. York couldn’t find it in himself to.
But you’ve forgiven me for my relationship with Spike and Kai, Dad had also said.
You’re different, York had answered. You’re my dad.
If Perry turned out to be FrogPrince... Could York forgive him?
He didn’t know.
York stepped into the locker room, changing into his regular clothes. He’d figured that
he’d go home and grab some sleep. It wasn’t like Perry would suddenly show up after a
three-week absence. Part of York begrudged Perry for that. The other part of him just
missed that guy.
Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him. Maybe I need to hear what he has to say.
He got into his car and drove home, blinking when he found Perry’s emerald sedan
pulling out through the other side of the apartment parking lot. York’s heart skipped a
beat.
Instead of parking, he followed Perry back onto the street—at a distance, but still.
York knew he was an idiot. He knew he should go home, and just go to sleep. Perry
might be home when he woke. It was a Saturday.
But it had been three whole weeks, and York wanted to smell that tulip scent again. He
wanted to see Perry, he wanted to pull Perry against himself, and just hold him. And
maybe... he should apologize.
They ended up in the mall parking lot, just outside the toy store. Perry had parked up
front, getting out of his car with Caleb. York parked on the other side of the lot. Got out
of his car, still trying to convince himself that he should just go home.
Across the parking lot, he glimpsed someone else heading toward the toy store.
Another alpha. Heavier than York, not quite as trim. The alpha shouted. Perry turned.
Then Perry paled, stepping in front of Caleb and backing them both away. Unease
slithered through York’s veins.
The alpha stopped in front of Perry. He grabbed Perry’s shirt and hauled him forward,
raising his fist. Something in York’s chest coiled tight; he broke into a run. Perry was in
danger. He’s mine. Don’t touch him.
“Don’t forget, you still owe me,” the alpha sneered, eyeing Perry up and down like he
was a piece of meat. “If it weren’t for me, you would’ve gotten your useless ass kicked
to the curb a hundred times.”
Perry clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing. “That’s what you want me to believe,” he
retorted, but his voice shook. “I don’t owe you anything, Ron.”
“So you say.” Ron grasped a handful of Perry’s hair. Pain flashed through Perry’s eyes.
His instincts roaring, York thundered to a stop between them, gripping Ron’s wrist so
tight that the man grimaced. Behind York, Perry sucked in a sharp breath.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ron snapped.
“His alpha,” York snarled. “If you have something to say to him, you say it to me.” And
he tightened his fist, intent on crushing Ron’s wrist.
Ron swore, releasing Perry completely. York shoved the bastard away, stepping in front
of Perry. So the slimeball couldn’t even glimpse York’s omega.
Ron threw York a dirty look. “Young whelp like you? Looks like he’s getting desperate.
But don’t forget, Perry. You know where you belong. I’ll be back.”
He spat at York’s feet, stalking off. York didn’t take his eyes off that creep until he’d
gotten in his car and driven away.
“Good riddance,” York muttered.

When he turned, Perry was looking at his feet. “Let’s head into the store, Caleb. We
have many places to be today.”
“York!” Caleb waved. “Where’d you go?”
“Where’d I go?” York sniffed, filling his lungs with Perry’s tulip scent. And now there
was the honey scent of his pregnancy, too. “Beats me. Ask your dad. He might know.”
Perry flushed a dark red. He wet his lips, but he couldn’t meet York’s eyes. “He’s, ah.
He’s been busy.”
“I haven’t,” York murmured. “Been waiting to hear from you.”
Perry’s chest heaved. He tugged Caleb into the store, looking like he was trying to
avoid York, too. “You wanted a toy, Caleb. Remember? Which was it?”
“This one!” Caleb raced down the aisle, leaving Perry alone. York couldn’t help himself.
He slipped his fingers into Perry’s hand, stepping closer. Breathed that tulip scent off
Perry’s skin. Even now, Perry didn’t wear an alpha’s scent. Just his own.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” York murmured.
Perry fidgeted, his breaths coming fast and shallow. “Wh-why are you here?”
“Saw you leaving the apartment. Followed you here. Sorry.” York didn’t feel sorry. But
he feasted his eyes on Perry—his long lashes, his full lips, his slender body. “Perry.”
Perry’s breath shuddered out of him. He blinked rapidly, looking at the floor, the toys,
his feet. A flush crept up his neck. He was so nervous, his hands shook. So York took
Perry’s hands, just holding them.
“Do you want me to leave?” York asked.
Perry opened his mouth, but no words came out. His gaze flickered toward York; his
throat worked. “You—You can do whatever you want.”
He pulled his hands from York’s and trailed after Caleb. York followed him. Decided to
get the more important questions answered first. “Who was that guy?”
“An ex.”
“You’re not interested in him, are you?”
“No.” Perry winced.
Something in York’s chest lifted. “So... who’re you interested in, then?”
Perry turned redder, looking away. The only times he ever did that... was when he was
flustered around York.
“You want me?” York murmured, his heart skipping. He caught Perry’s hand. Held
him lightly, so Perry could pull away if he wanted.
Except Perry let York hold his hand. His chest heaved, like he might faint. York
crowded closer, his throat aching with how much he wanted this omega. Even if... it
was true that Perry was FrogPrince.
“Daddy!” Caleb raced over, holding a toy fire truck.
Perry glanced up. When he saw the truck, he gave a weak, disbelieving laugh. “You
want that?”
Caleb nodded, hugging the truck to himself. “Uh-huh. Fire truck is awesome!”
Perry chuckled softly. “That’s a new word for him, too. He picks things up quickly.”
“You really love him,” York said.
Perry bit his lip, looking away. Then he froze—they’d stopped next to an aisle of masks:
witches, zombies, unicorns. On the far end, there was a frog mask. Not the same one
FrogPrince had worn, but it was close.
“Want a mask, Caleb?” York asked casually, waiting to see how Perry would respond.
Perry grew still. Caleb looked dubiously at the dark, scary masks. So York picked a
friendly bear mask off the rack, and held it in front of his own face. Caleb laughed.
“Here, try it on,” York said, putting it on for Caleb. He turned Caleb toward a mirror.
“It’s too big,” Caleb said.
So York took the bear mask back, and grabbed a smaller turtle one. Then he lifted the
frog mask off the wall, and made his way back to Perry.
Perry stiffened, his eyes the only part of him that moved, following the frog mask in
York’s hands.
York stopped in front of him, touching Perry’s lips. “You’re afraid.”
“I...” Perry’s throat worked. He trembled. But the look in his eyes—that was terror. And
that kernel of truth between them, that Perry was FrogPrince, it became more tangible.
Close enough to touch.
York lifted the frog mask, pressing it lightly against Perry’s face. He slid the rubber
band over Perry’s head to secure the mask in place. Perry stared back through the holes
in the mask, his breaths puffing quick and shallow.
Perry was roughly the same height FrogPrince had been. He was small and thin and
warm, and York cupped the nape of his neck.
Then he flipped up the bottom half of the mask, exposing Perry’s mouth. Perry’s breath
shuddered out of him.
This was familiar. York had done this exact same thing that night, back when he’d slept
with FrogPrince.
“Do you remember what happens next?” York leaned close, stroking Perry’s nape.
Perry’s lips moved. He couldn’t take his eyes off York. Then, in a breath of a whisper,
Perry whispered, “Yes.”
York’s heart squeezed tight. All these weeks, Perry had known who exactly York was.
He’d grown hard in that bathroom, when he’d fallen through naked. He’d seen York,
and he’d tried to flee.
Perry had spent his heat with York, he’d blushed and trembled and he’d conceived York’s
child, and all this time, he’d been nervous.
And suddenly that explained everything. Because Perry had been keeping secrets. He’d
kept the biggest secret of all.
Perry Larkin was the man York had fallen in love with, the man who had left him.
“I should be so damn pissed with you,” York whispered, his throat so tight he couldn’t
fucking breathe. “I hated you for years.”
Perry whimpered, stiffening.
But what York remembered most vividly was the way Perry had begged for him, the
way Perry had blushed when York kissed him on the lips.
The way Perry always stared so hungrily at him, the way he wanted, but he didn’t dare
make a move.
“You’ve always liked me,” York said, really as a wild guess.
Perry turned redder, and York knew then that he’d hit the right answer. His heart
swelled. “You liked me even before you fell through my bathroom ceiling.”
Perry looked away, his answer so quiet that York almost missed it. “Yes.”
Gods, this man. York tightened his grip on Perry’s nape. Pressed their foreheads
together, the frog mask thick and lumpy between them, smelling like rubber. “I
searched for you for so damn long,” York growled.
Perry lowered his gaze. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Part of York wanted Perry to be sorry. The other part wanted to pin Perry down,
explore just what else Perry had hidden from him. How much Perry still liked him. And
then York wanted to make up for all the years they’d spent apart.
He hauled Perry closer by his nape, meshing their lips together. Perry gasped, his eyes
growing wide.
“Mine,” York growled, kissing him fiercely. Perry opened for York, his lips silky and
full, so soft between York’s teeth. “I was gonna ask you to be my boyfriend after that
first night. But you left.”
A tiny whimper slipped from Perry’s throat. “I was too old for you. I still am—”
York slid past Perry’s lips to shut him up. Swept inside, brushing their tongues
together, tasting the familiar nooks and crannies of Perry’s mouth, the way Perry
groaned and opened for him, just like how he’d spread his legs.
FrogPrince had been the omega of his dreams. Ever since York had presented as alpha,
and he’d found out Prince was omega, he’d imagined them living together. Imagined
them with their lives intertwined, FrogPrince by his side every step of the way.
FrogPrince had taught York to chill out. He’d taught York that Frog Island wasn’t
everything in the world, that there was real life outside the game, and that there were
people playing the game, who were more important than the game itself.
York wound his fingers into Perry’s hair and devoured him, stealing Perry’s breath,
swallowing his soft moans. He wanted to press Perry up against the wall, rut into him,
claim him.
Because FrogPrince had always been his. Perry had just been hiding from York.
“You never forgot me,” York whispered, dragging his palm down Perry’s spine. He
hitched Perry up so their covered cocks pressed together. Perry panted, his neck
flushed, his musk coiling between them. “You wanted to be mine.”
Perry whimpered and pulled away, his face bright red. “I-I should go.”
York caught his arm. Lifted the mask off Perry’s face.
Then he stared into Perry’s eyes, acknowledging for the first time—that this was what
FrogPrince looked like.
Older than York had ever expected. But also far more beautiful, and talented, and
brave.
“I loved you,” York whispered. “Never realized it until you left.”
He still loved Perry, in fact. Looking at him now, smelling that tulip scent, seeing the
way Perry craved York’s presence... York couldn’t stay away. His heart pounded for
this omega.
Perry stood frozen, his eyes growing wide with disbelief. York leaned in, about to claim
his lips again.
Someone cleared their throat loudly. “Sirs, this behavior isn’t permitted on our
premises—”
York barely acknowledged the awkward store employee standing to the side. He shook
the frog mask. “I’m buying this. We’re leaving.”
Perry squeaked. “But you—I...”
“We’re going home to talk about this,” York growled, raking his gaze down Perry’s
body. “In private.”
Perry’s breath rushed out of him. His pupils blew wide, and York wanted this man
beneath him. Wanted to mark Perry with his scent, his bite, his everything.
It was insane, and yet at the same time, it wasn’t.
“Hey, Caleb,” York said. “Picked out the toys you want?”
Caleb nodded, hugging the fire truck to himself. He was cute; York could acknowledge
that. And maybe this child was another reason why Perry hadn’t wanted York to
discover his identity.
“Let’s go home,” York said, pulling Perry against his side. “Time to set things straight.”
Perry covered his face. “You’ll regret this, York.”
York pressed a kiss to Perry’s temple. “No, I won’t.”

Y ORK KNEW . York had realized that Perry was FrogPrince, because Perry had screwed
up. And now York knew most of Perry’s secrets.
Perry’s stomach twisted on the drive home. York had only agreed to let Perry take his
own car, because Perry had promised to show up back at the apartment, instead of
running off somewhere else.
Perry didn’t know if he should’ve agreed. Maybe he should’ve lied and fled. Maybe he
could still do it now.
Caleb was kicking his feet in the backseat, fiddling with his new bear mask. “You kissed
York.”
Perry sighed. “Yes, I did.”
“Are you gonna marry him?”
Perry’s heart tightened. “Do you think I should?”
Still fiddling, Caleb nodded.
It must be nice to be your age, Perry thought. When everything was black and white and
marrying someone didn’t mean you were screwing yourself over. “No, I don’t think
we’ll get married.”
There wasn’t a chance. But Perry wasn’t going to think about that right now. All he
wanted was York to follow through on the promise in his eyes. That fierce, dark heat,
that sweet warmth. His tantalizing touch, and his... his love?
Did York still love him? Should Perry even find out? Or should Perry push York away
before it was too late?
He pulled up to the apartment complex, his stomach flipping when he found York
standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, a bulge in his pants. Gods, York.
Perry gulped. Then he parked his car, and got Caleb out.
“Your hands are wet, Daddy,” Caleb said.
York glanced at Perry, eyebrows raised. Perry wished Caleb hadn’t said it so loudly. He
scrubbed his palms on his jeans. “Just nervous.”
“Yeah?” York didn’t wait for Perry to approach. He stepped close and slipped his arm
around Perry’s waist, hauling him closer. Perry bumped into his side, and York
dragged his wrist up Perry’s forearm, leaving his scent on Perry’s skin.
Perry’s heart lodged in his throat. He’s already marking me, and we haven’t even solved any
of this. Why is he...? “Y-York, I—”
“You...?” York brushed his thumb over the scent gland on Perry’s wrist. Then he
rubbed Perry’s scent between their skin, getting some on himself, too.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Perry mumbled, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You should be yelling at me. You should be furious. Not—Not this.”
York squeezed his waist, rumbling low in his throat. “Maybe later.”
Perry didn’t know how he got himself and Caleb back into the apartment. York was
there, and Perry could only focus on the heat of his body, York’s gaze never once
leaving him. All his nerves had come alive, and all it took was one look from York for
Perry’s throat to grow dry.
Gods, I’m pathetic, Perry thought.
“Play with your new toys for a bit,” York said to Caleb the moment Perry shut the front
door. “I gotta talk to your dad. If you get hurt or you’re scared about something, come
find us in the kitchen, okay?”
“Okay.” Caleb pushed his fire truck around the coffee table.
And York hauled Perry into the kitchen, his grip certain, his expression set. Scarcely
had they stepped out of sight, when York spun Perry around and pinned him against
the fridge, crowding so close that their bodies pressed flush together, York’s hands
heavy on Perry’s hips, his lips dragging down Perry’s ear.
All Perry could smell was hickory. And York’s musk.
“We need to talk?” Perry squeaked, trying to catch his breath. York was too close. He
made it so hard to think.
“Yeah,” York growled, catching Perry’s earlobe between his sharp teeth. “But I want to
see your tat first. Can’t believe you hid it from me for so long. We fucked thrice, Perry.
Three fucking times. I’d seen your cock and your hole, I’d sucked you off, and I just—I
should’ve seen your back.”
York narrowed his eyes. Perry’s pants grew tight, his face burning with embarrassment.
It wasn’t every day that York talked so openly about Perry’s intimate parts. “I, um. I
was trying not to distract you with it.”
“Distract. Yeah, right.” York scowled. But he cupped Perry’s cheek. Traced his callused
thumb over Perry’s lips, parting them. “Your belly scars looked familiar. You smelled
familiar. Hell—everything about you. I should’ve realized.”
“We shouldn’t,” Perry mumbled.
Except all his instincts urged him to lean into York’s chest. Perry wanted to let himself
be touched. He wanted to let York drive him wild with pleasure, until all he knew was
York and nothing else.
“And why the fuck not?” York met Perry’s eyes. “‘Cuz the way I see it, you belong in
my bed, with my knot inside you.”
Perry’s blood swooped south. He bit down his whimper, looking away so York
wouldn’t see how much Perry ached for him. “I left,” Perry mumbled. “I was so old
when we first met, York. I shouldn’t have been friends with you.”
York buried his nose in Perry’s hair. “I’m glad you let me fuck you that night.”
Perry’s face burned. “I’m sixteen years older than you. You were barely eighteen at that
point.”
“All we talked about was games.” York cupped Perry’s cock through his pants,
squeezing him lightly. An electric jolt shot down Perry’s nerves; his hips bucked. “You
didn’t tell me you’d scream my name when I fucked into you. Fucking loved that.”
And now Perry couldn’t look at York at all. “I was thinking about you even before that
night. After you hit eighteen, I promise.”
“Yeah?” York’s eyes gleamed. “What were you thinking about me? You wanted me to
suck your cock?”
He squeezed Perry again, and Perry hated that his attention was slowly but certainly
sinking between his legs, where York held him. York didn’t understand the gravity of
the situation. “Your dad is my coworker. I—I couldn’t look him in the eye for weeks
after that night. I barely can these days.”
York rumbled, slipping his fingers into Perry’s waistband, unbuttoning his pants. Then
the zipper rasped, and the pressure at Perry’s hips eased. “I don’t care about that,” York
said. “You’ve always been there.”
“Which is why this is terrible,” Perry cried. “For all you know, I manipulated you into
liking me.”
York met his eyes. “Did you?”
Perry scrubbed his face. “You were like a little brother to me, when you were growing
up.”
“So this would make it pseudo-incest?”
That sounded even worse. Perry groaned, trying to squirm out of York’s grip so he
wouldn’t humiliate himself further. “Whatever it is, I’m not supposed to, York. I
became friends with you when you were fourteen. I’m the last person you should be
seeing.”
York thought about it. Then he pushed his hand into Perry’s pants, cupping Perry’s
cock through his briefs. “Do I look like I care?”
Perry arched, his instincts urging him to climb onto York, rut at him, beg him for
release. “I care,” he gasped. “Someone has to.”
York pressed his nose against Perry’s cheek, sniffing down his neck. “I’m not gonna
lose you again,” York growled. “I want you to wear my scent, Perry. Prince.”
Perry froze, his chest expanding at that long-forgotten nickname. “You... remember.”
“I think about you every fucking night,” York growled, kneading Perry’s cock so it
grew full and heavy. It strained against Perry’s briefs, utterly betraying him. And York
ran his fingertip down its underside, keenly aware of how much Perry wanted this. “I
think about marking you, tasting you. I think about you being mine.”
Perry grew so hard, he hurt. He whimpered and tried to squirm away, afraid of what
would happen if this went on. If he just... gave in. It was far too easy to let York take
him to places. To let York have every inch of Perry’s body, where he wouldn’t trust
another alpha with it.
“I thought about FrogPrince for years,” York murmured, searching out Perry’s lips,
kissing him again. “Then I met you, and I thought, ‘Maybe I can forget about Prince.’ I
thought I was projecting him onto you. Turns out, you’re the same fucking person.”
York squeezed Perry’s cock, until pleasure jolted up his spine and he cried out, his body
taut, eager for release.
And York turned him around, hitching up his shirt.

Perry heard the slow rasp of York’s breath. Felt the warm points of York’s fingertips as
they traced down his spine to his tattoo, following the two interlocking brass gears,
their square teeth. Then York fanned his touch outward, caressing the trails of sparks
that shot from the gears, forming wings.
“Always loved this,” York rumbled, his voice rough. “It’s still the most beautiful tattoo
I’ve ever seen.”
Perry blushed. He’d drawn the design himself, a long time ago. York had kissed it the
very first time they’d had sex. Then York had laid Perry on his back and opened his
legs, and Perry had felt too bare, letting York see the rest of him.
He still felt too naked now. Too vulnerable to pain.
But York hadn’t once hurt him, and maybe... Perry could believe in this. Them. Just for
today.
Ever so slowly, he allowed himself to relax. “You... don’t mind that I was FrogPrince.”
York rumbled, leaning in. His breath fell warm and heavy on Perry’s nape, and his
bulge pressed a hard line against Perry’s ass. Then York pushed Perry’s shirt off his
shoulders, and his lips brushed down Perry’s spine, leaving a trail of kisses to the small
of his back.
York knelt behind him and kissed the tattoo—in the middle of each gear, then the
wings. There was care in every touch, every kiss. Perry trembled, his chest too tight.
York knows. And he’s... forgiving me? “York, I—”
York cupped Perry’s hips, pressing his face against the tattoo. “You...?”
“I—I hurt you,” Perry choked, bowing his head. “You shouldn’t be doing this. Why—”
York kissed Perry’s back again. “Because I’d been searching for you. Why’d you leave?
You didn’t just stop seeing me, Perry. You completely disappeared from my life. Who
the fuck does that?”
Perry hunched his shoulders, trying to hide himself. “I didn’t think it’d work out
between us.”
“Why not?” York growled. Then he slid his hand around to Perry’s front, stroking over
Perry’s scars. “Because those bastards hurt you?”
Perry trembled. For a split second, he grew fearful again, that York would somehow see
how vulnerable Perry was, and manipulate that. Except York just held him, and his
embrace was sturdy and safe.
Ever so slowly, Perry leaned into him. Pushed away the nagging doubt that there
would be pain somehow. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m scared that you’ll hurt me.”
York tensed and growled. Then he breathed out slowly, as though he was trying to
contain his anger. “No, I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear to every god there is. If I ever
do and I don’t realize it, you’ve gotta tell me.”
Perry turned, looking into York’s eyes. He read sincerity there, and fierceness. Still
kneeling, York took Perry’s hand, pressing his forehead to the back of it—a gesture of
allegiance the Frog Island characters did for their royalty.
Perry’s heart skipped. “I’m not a game character, York,” he breathed.
“You’re still a Prince.” York glanced up, smiling crookedly. “My Prince?”
What that meant... York held Perry in great esteem, and Perry didn’t know how he
deserved any of it. “That’s just embarrassing,” he mumbled, covering his face. “I’m not
a prince.”
“You’re worth way more than a prince to me.” York pressed Perry against the wall,
kissing his abdomen, then up his midriff to his chest, and his lips. “You’re my omega,
Perry. You’ve always been.”
Perry’s stomach flipped. “I’m...”
York glanced at the kitchen doorway, licking his lips. “I wanna make you mine. Think
Caleb’s still awake? He’s been quiet for a while.”
Gods. York wanted to get into Perry’s pants, right now. Perry throbbed.
He straightened his clothes, following York out of the kitchen. In the living room, Caleb
had curled around his new fire truck, dozing, his thumb in his mouth, the bear mask
lopsided on his head. York cracked a smile.
“He’s adorable,” Perry whispered, stepping forward to pick Caleb up.
But York got to their son first. He scooped Caleb into his arms, glancing at Perry with a
raised eyebrow. Where do I put him? he seemed to ask.
So Perry led him to Caleb’s bedroom, watching as York laid their son down. York
pulled off the bear mask and tucked Caleb in, then met Perry’s eyes. He would be the
perfect alpha dad.
I need to tell him about Caleb, Perry thought, his chest squeezing. But that was a huge
bombshell. York had almost forgiven Perry for his hidden identity. Caleb... was a whole
other can of worms. A child whom York had had the right to visit for the past four
years.
Perry’s heart wrenched. Let’s not talk about that right now. Let me have York first, just for a
while.
His heart pounding, Perry held his hand out. Just to invite York closer, and away from
the minefield that was their son.
York’s gaze burned Perry’s palm, then up the rest of his body. He stalked closer, backed
Perry out of Caleb’s room, and shut the door quietly.
“Perry,” York growled, tangling their fingers. His touch seared into Perry’s skin; Perry
barely noticed York maneuvering him into his bedroom. “You said Caleb didn’t wake
when you crashed through my bathroom ceiling.”
Perry shook his head, his pulse picking up now that York was so close, his body
radiating heat like a furnace. York felt like an animal, almost. Like a powerful beast here
to claim Perry.
York leaned in, his breath brushing Perry’s ear. “I like that I can make you scream, and
you won’t wake him.”
Perry’s blood surged between his legs. He swayed, dizzy with the sudden need that
crashed through his body. York had slept with him so many times, but he still wanted
Perry anyway. “You...”
“You like that?” Sharp teeth grazed Perry’s earlobe. “Me pounding you into the bed?”
The air in Perry’s lungs rushed out. “Gods, yes. Please.”
York growled, backing Perry against the wall. He linked their fingers and pressed
Perry’s hands against the plaster, trapping Perry with his body. Perry’s nerves lit up,
his pants growing tight.
“For so long, I thought about what I was gonna do when I found you,” York
murmured, dropping kisses across Perry’s cheeks, brushing their noses together. “I was
gonna apologize ‘cuz I figured I’d done something wrong somehow. Then I was gonna
fuck your brains out, fill you up until you were so blissed-out, you’d stay with me
forever.” York chuckled. “I was young and stupid.”
Perry laughed breathlessly. “You might not be too wrong, you know,” he panted,
rubbing his front against York’s body, just to feel the muscles beneath York’s clothes.
“I’d stay if—if you wanted...”
York rumbled, his eyes growing darker. He released Perry’s hand, tipping his chin up.
When he kissed Perry again, his desire scorched right through Perry, jolting down his
spine, tightening his nipples. Perry gasped; York slid into his mouth, his tongue damp
and demanding, tasting all of him.
Perry groaned, his body tightening for his alpha. He pushed himself up onto tiptoes.
York slipped his hands under Perry’s ass, hefting him up, keeping their bodies pressed
flush together so there was no air between them. Just their hearts pounding, York’s
stare burning right into Perry.
“Mine,” York growled, sliding into Perry’s mouth, in and out, claiming him there. “All
mine, Perry. Wanted to show you how much I missed you. Think this tells you
enough?”
He ground the hard line of his cock against Perry’s abdomen, and Perry leaked. He
couldn’t help it. York’s presence delved under his skin, his musk so thick that it was all
Perry could breathe. “You—You want me. Even after...”
“Fuck yes, I want you,” York growled, pinning Perry to the wall with his own body. He
slipped his hands under Perry’s shirt, into his pants, leaving a trail of fire along Perry’s
skin. “That first time we fucked... You screamed my name. You knew damn well who it
was making you come.”
Yes, Perry remembered. His entire body burned with humiliation. “I asked you out that
night. There was a reason.”
York rumbled, his pupils blowing wide. “Yeah?”
And now Perry couldn’t meet his eyes. “I wanted you.”
York growled, leaning so close that he breathed in Perry’s exhale. “Look into my eyes.
Say that again.”
P ERRY TREMBLED under the intensity of York’s stare. He wet his lips, his face burning.
“You were eighteen, York. You were so young.”
“And you wanted me.”
“I—I did.”
“Say it.”
Perry whimpered, almost chickening out. Admitting it to someone else was one thing.
But to York himself? “I-I wanted you. I sh-shouldn’t hav—”
York growled and kissed him. This time, the kiss was ferocious, York winding his
fingers through Perry’s hair, tipping Perry’s head backward so his mouth fell open.
Then York devoured him, his tongue sweeping past Perry’s lips, his large hand slipping
down the back of Perry’s pants, into his briefs, right between his asscheeks.
He’s touching me there. Perry clutched at York, surprised at his sudden, intimate
presence.
At the same time York claimed Perry’s mouth, he pushed two fingers into Perry’s wet
hole. Perry gasped, clenching around York, his body wound so tight that pleasure shot
down his nerves.
“Yeah, exactly like that,” York growled. “Louder.”
Perry hadn’t even been aware that he’d made a sound. But York curled his fingers
inside him, a firm, demanding touch right against that sensitive spot. Then he worked
at it, thrusting his fingers in and out, sliding deeper into Perry, stretching him until his
need spiked, and pleasure burned down his nerves.
Perry cried out again, his knees giving out, his entire body dragging down York’s front,
his cock so full it felt like bursting. “York—”
“Fuck, yeah,” York rasped, plunging his fingers harder into Perry’s hole. “Come for me,
Prince.”
“But—” Perry whined, his cock shoving against his pants, demanding to be let out.
York pressed against that sweet spot, over and over, until Perry couldn’t think about
anything past York, York’s scent filling his lungs, York touching him inside. York knew
he was FrogPrince, and here they were, York touching Perry like he mattered.
Perry came, his pleasure a sudden rush, his body obeying his alpha. He must’ve cried
out, because York swore and shoved his fingers deeper, opening Perry up, murmuring
into his ear.
“Yes,” York growled, kneading Perry’s prostate. “Cream your pants for me. Wanna lick
it off you. Open you up for my cock. You look so damn beautiful like that.”
Perry trembled, his hole fluttering around York’s fingers, stretched open around his
alpha. He’d left a wet, sticky mess in his pants. Again. He groaned and buried his face
against York’s shoulder, his limbs shaking, his cheeks tingling with embarrassment. “I
should’ve been touching you—”
“You can touch me all you want now.” York smiled, dark and hungry, reaching
between them to adjust his cock. “Almost split my pants just hearing you come.”
Perry gulped, a thrill shooting down his spine. York had liked seeing that. Perry had
been vulnerable, out of control, and York... wanted more.
York grasped Perry’s waistband, undoing his fly. Then he peeled Perry’s pants and
briefs down, exposing the thick, pearly smears of come all over Perry’s tip. Perry
covered himself with his hands.
Carefully, York grasped Perry’s wrists, pulling his hands away. “Let me see,” York
murmured. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Perry flushed, allowing York to look at the shameful parts of himself, the parts that still
craved York’s attention. York licked his lips, rumbling low in his chest. “Fuck, Perry.
You look delicious.”
Perry’s skin tingled wherever York looked. York sank to his knees, pressing his lips to
Perry’s flushed cock. He kissed down its length, his lips soft. Flicked the warm point of
his tongue across Perry’s tip. Pleasure jolted down Perry’s nerves. He groaned, covering
his face instead. His body told York far too much about what he wanted.
“You don’t like this?” York kissed his tip, dragging down Perry’s foreskin to expose his
sensitive head. It was flushed, glistening, and smeared all over with come. York took it
into his hot mouth and sucked. Bliss shot down Perry’s spine. He hissed, and York
smiled.
Even though they’d done this before, Perry didn’t know if he’d ever stop feeling self-
conscious about himself. “I’m older than you, York—”
York let Perry slide out of his mouth. “You still come the same.” He grinned. “And you
still taste the same. Honestly, you’re the only one worrying about your age. I like you
the way you are. I like that I can make you scream.”
In a low growl, York added, “And I’m not done giving you the fucking of your life,
Prince.”
With every reminder of their past, Perry’s heart thudded. York was still here. His hole
squeezed, slick leaking out of it. He needed an alpha stretching it open, filling him up.
And it could only be York. He’d never wanted anyone else this much.
Perry curled his fingers into York’s shoulders, arching toward him. “Please.”
“Please what?” York scooped Perry’s balls out of his briefs, dropping kisses on them.
Then he squeezed Perry’s sac, tighter and tighter, until pleasure mixed with a hint of
pain, and Perry writhed, his cock growing embarrassingly hard, his body singing for his
alpha.
“Fuck, Perry,” York whispered, taking Perry’s sac into his damp, snug mouth. Perry
gasped, his mind whirling. His sac was vulnerable, but with York... Perry trusted him
completely.
York sucked on Perry’s balls, a light pressure. Perry rocked up against him, his cock
shoving against York’s cheek like the most wanton thing in the world.
Ever so slowly, York pulled away, letting Perry’s balls slide out of his mouth. Perry
stared. His precome dripped onto York’s cheek. No other alpha had done this for him,
either.
“Ready for me?” York murmured. “Want me to open your hole?”
Perry shook his head. “You have too many clothes on.”
York’s smile spread through his face. “Yeah? You want me bare-assed naked?”
“Please,” Perry croaked, his throat growing dry. “I want—I want us.”
With all the hiding he’d been doing, he’d never gotten a chance to just relax around
York, and let their bodies touch, skin-to-skin.
York rumbled. He stood and stripped his shirt off, then his pants, and it was all Perry
could do to stare at his flexing biceps, his pecs solid, his thighs thick and strong. York’s
cock jutted up at Perry, hungry and flushed, like it needed to go somewhere. Inside
Perry. Deep and hard, filling every inch of his body with pleasure. Perry whimpered.
“Kiss it,” York rasped.
Perry’s mouth watered. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the thick length of York’s cock.
It was rock-hard, its skin stretched thin and taut against his lips, York’s heat burning
into him. His own body throbbing, Perry took York’s tip into his mouth, sucking on its
heavy length, letting it fill him up.
“Fuck,” York whispered, cradling Perry’s head. “I’ve never had anyone suck my cock
like you. You’re so damn hungry.”
And he pushed his cock deeper into Perry’s mouth, riding his tongue, his hips bucking
hungrily like an animal. Perry dripped. This was York when he was trying to control
himself. When York had Perry’s ass... he wouldn’t hold back. Perry’s insides grew
molten.
York’s mouth had fallen open with pleasure. He reached down, yanking Perry’s shirt
off his shoulders. Then he dragged his wrist down Perry’s chest, marking Perry with his
own scent. Perry trembled, his cock aching for his alpha. “York—”
“Mine,” York growled, hauling Perry to his feet. He shoved down Perry’s pants, and
closed his callused fist around Perry’s cock and balls. Need hissed through Perry’s
nerves. “On the bed. Climb on me.”
Perry squirmed, his attention snared by the pressure of York’s hand.
“Yeah?” York grinned, running his fingertips down the back of Perry’s balls, a light,
teasing touch. “Want more of that?”
Perry squirmed and nodded. He looked small in York’s fist, compared to York himself.
York stroked Perry’s cock, then tugged on him, leading him toward the bed.
Completely naked now, Perry followed helplessly. York clambered backward onto the
mattress. Then he released Perry, leaving him bereft.
“On me,” York rasped. “I’m all yours.”
And he lay back on the pillows, all muscled and naked, his legs open. His cock jutted
up, waiting for Perry to claim it.
Perry’s throat went bone-dry. He wasn’t sure how desperate he looked, but he was on
the bed in seconds, throwing his thigh over York’s waist, sinking down onto his abs,
York’s hot cock pressing up between his asscheeks, a velvety length ready to open Perry
up inside.
York reached between them, lightly stroking Perry’s sac. Pleasure whispered through
his skin; his balls tightened under York’s touch. York’s smile grew. Then he stroked his
knuckles down Perry’s desperate cock, and Perry rutted at him, wishing he weren’t
stuck hovering above York, spread open like this.
“Very nice,” York rumbled, his gaze raking down Perry’s front. “Do you get hard like
this for anyone else?”
Funny York would even think that. Perry shook his head, unable to speak. Need had
tightened all his nerves. He could only gasp, straining toward his alpha, craving release.
“Y-York.”
York smiled, his eyelids fluttering half-shut. “So this cock here,” York rumbled, tapping
on Perry’s straining length. Every vibration shot up his spine. “This is mine.”
“Yes,” Perry hissed, rolling his hips, trying to tempt York into touching him more.
“I decide when you come.” York closed his fist around Perry’s cock, and squeezed.
Pleasure sluiced down his nerves. Perry thrust at his alpha, his face burning when his
cock shoved lewdly out the other side of York’s fist. “Yes.”
York rumbled, angling Perry’s cock down toward himself. Then he dragged his wrist all
over Perry’s cock, up its sides and down the prominent ridge, and around Perry’s tip.
So it was entirely covered with hickory, and it was most definitely York’s to command.
Perry whimpered, leaking onto York. It felt good to belong, even like this.
“Very nice.” York stroked down Perry’s balls—an electric touch—and past his taint, to
Perry’s hole. “Want something in here?”
Perry shuddered and pushed down onto York’s fingers, trying to take his alpha inside.
But York only tapped on his entrance. He circled it, watching Perry’s face. Perry
wondered if he looked as ravenous as he felt.
The slowest smirk bloomed across York’s lips. “You’ll have to beg me for it, Prince.
That’s how you’ll apologize.”
Perry’s face burned. “Please, York.”
“Please what?”
“Please claim my hole.” He felt so filthy, saying that.

“Fuck.” York’s eyes grew pitch-dark. His chest heaved, and he pumped his cock,
pulling it forward from under Perry’s ass so they could both see it. “But no. That’s not
good enough.”
Perry whined, shoving himself down onto York. He needed to be filled, right now.
“York, p-please. I need your cock. I need your come inside me.”
He rubbed his soaked entrance against York’s fingers, leaving a trail of slick. York
snarled, flattening his fingers against Perry’s hole, completely covering it. So Perry
couldn’t ease York’s fingers inside himself.
“York,” Perry begged, pushing down onto his alpha, his hole squeezing. York was so
close to giving Perry what he wanted.
But before Perry could say more, York pulled his touch away. “Not yet,” York
murmured, a roguish grin spreading across his lips. “You made me suffer, Perry. So
you’re gonna have to suffer in return.”
Perry whined. York was inches away. He was completely bare, lying beneath Perry, and
Perry wanted his alpha lodged deep inside him, pounding into him so hard that he
squirted uncontrollably, everywhere.
“I want your knot,” Perry croaked, reaching down, squeezing the tantalizing length of
his alpha’s cock.
York groaned, his chest heaving. “No. Not yet.”
So Perry angled his hips down and dragged his cock against York’s abs. York growled,
his muscles flexing, its grooves cradling Perry’s cock.
“I’ll—I’ll jerk off right here if that’s what you want,” Perry panted, his balls pulling
tight, his cock smearing a trail of precome down York’s skin. Electricity sizzled down
his limbs. And maybe he wanted to mark York with his own come, too.
“Gods, Perry.” York licked his lips, his gaze scorching. “You can come all you want, but
you ain’t gonna get my cock inside you.”
Perry’s hole squeezed. “But I...” He dug his nails into York’s biceps, need clawing at his
insides. “I need you. Please.”
He pressed himself flat against York’s chest—York’s tanned, strong body beneath his,
all smooth muscle and wiry hair, his cock dragging hungrily against Perry’s belly. With
each slide of skin on skin, Perry’s nerves sang.
York’s eyes flashed; he growled and flipped them over, pinning Perry beneath himself.
And he held Perry’s legs open, so cool air brushed his hole. “You weren’t supposed to
do that.”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t.” Perry braced his feet against the mattress and shoved his
hips up; their cocks dragged sweetly together, electricity sparking between them.
“Fuck, Perry,” York growled, his chest heaving. He anchored Perry down and rolled his
hips, grinding their cocks together in a sweet, toe-curling slide. Perry arched, over-
sensitive.
“Please,” Perry panted, digging his nails into York’s back. “This is torture, York. Please
just fuck me.”
York’s expression darkened into one of pure desire. “I want to fuck you,” he rasped, his
voice hoarse with the sheer weight of his need. “I want to pound you into the bed, but it
ain’t gonna last so long. Been a while since I’ve had you, Prince.”
Perry swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You really want me. Past and present.”
“Hell, yeah.” York bit hard into Perry’s shoulder, just to the side of his scent gland. It
wasn’t a bonding mark. But it was close, enough to tell Perry what York wanted.
Perry trembled, fearful, and craving York’s possession at the same time. This was more
than sex. This was York accepting him for who he was, and it was far more than Perry
deserved.
He wanted it anyway.
York closed his mouth around Perry’s scent gland and sucked. Pleasure twisted down
Perry’s spine. He cried out, arching, clawing down York’s back to hang on before he
flew apart.
“Damn it, Perry,” York growled, shoving Perry’s knees further apart. Then he curled his
fingers between Perry’s cheeks, finding his hole, pushing back inside. “Fuck, you’re
wet.”
A jolt of heat shot up Perry’s spine; his body opened for his alpha. He rocked his hips
up, squeezing around York’s fingers. “York, York—”
York thrust his fingers into Perry, deep and hard, grazing his prostate. Pleasure hissed
down his nerves. Perry whimpered, lifting his hips, trying to tempt York further. And
the sounds that emerged from his hole, from York fingering him... Perry’s face burned.
York smiled hungrily, his cock shoving an indent into Perry’s inner thigh.
“Want something here?” York growled, kneading Perry’s prostate hard. The pleasure
brought Perry right to the edge and held him there, teetering on the point of no return.
Perry thrashed, his cock spurting precome, his nerves almost overloading with bliss. “I-
I—”
York pulled his fingers out. He held Perry’s legs open, grasped the base of his own
cock, and pushed his tip against Perry’s hole, a blunt, thick pressure that promised.
Perry writhed. “York—”
York growled and snapped his hips, and his tip slid into Perry, opening him. Perry’s
breath fled his lungs.
Without any pleasantries, York sank half his cock into Perry, a thick, solid length that
robbed Perry of all thought. Then he pulled out partway, plunged back inside, over and
over, each thrust pushing deeper, slowly coating his cock with Perry’s slick.
“Gods, Perry,” York growled in his ear. He rolled his hips, burying himself all the way
inside. And now he was completely lubricated, and he could go as savagely as he
wanted.
Perry whimpered, digging his nails into York’s arms, filled up so full with his alpha
that his body thrummed. “York, more.”
“Fuck, yeah, I’ll give you more.” York’s musk billowed between them. He thrust hard,
and his cock shoved right against Perry’s prostate, sending a jolt up his spine. “You like
that?”
Perry nodded mutely, struggling to catch his breath. “York—”
“Yeah.” York bit Perry’s shoulder, his thrusts picking up speed, his grip almost too tight
on Perry’s hip. His eyes burned. “I’ll never get tired of this.” He thrust in again, blazing
a trail of pleasure so Perry cried out. “Making you mine.” York dragged his teeth lightly
across Perry’s scent gland. “Didn’t know you were always this desperate for me. That
first night, then every other time we’ve fucked. You just keep spreading for me. Taking
me. My knot belongs inside you.”
Perry’s entire body burned. He knew that, but hearing York say it... Perry wanted to
hide his face. “Please. Please, York.”
“I love it,” York panted, his abs flexing as he rolled his hips, fitting every last inch
inside. “All mine.”
I love it wasn’t the same as I love you, but for a second there, Perry’s heart had stopped.
He whined, York’s thrusts bouncing him against the bed. “Yours.”
York slipped his arm around Perry. He held Perry down, then fucked all the way in,
trying to cram every last inch inside, until their bodies meshed and they were a single
person. Perry writhed, on that knife-edge of release.
York rolled them over so he lay on his back, and Perry straddling his waist.
“I wanna see all of you,” York rasped, bracing his feet against the mattress. “On your
knees, Perry.”
Perry pushed himself into a kneel, groaning when that seated York deeper inside
himself. Each thrust made his limbs weak. Perry blushed when he realized that this
position held him open for York—his front bare, his thighs spread, his hole stretched
around his alpha’s cock.
“Very nice,” York growled. Then he began a hard rhythm, pounding up into Perry, his
cock a thick, solid presence.
Each thrust electrified Perry’s nerves. He fell forward, the pleasure almost too much to
bear. He couldn’t breathe. His body sang for York. His cock grew so hard it felt like
bursting, precome trickling down its side.
And York’s thrusts spread up, sweat prickling his skin, his dark gaze locked onto Perry,
seeing everything Perry was too distracted to hide.
“Mine,” York growled, pulling Perry flush against his chest. Then he snapped his hips
and plunged into Perry over and over, opening him, claiming him, making damn sure
Perry knew what it felt like to be completely owned by his alpha, his body taking every
inch of York.
“Gonna know you inside out,” York rasped, his breathing uneven. “Gonna be your
alpha forever.”
Maybe it was his words, or maybe it was the way York’s gaze pierced him. Or maybe it
was the way York ground hard against Perry’s prostate, sending a bright-hot jolt down
his nerves.
Perry came in a wash of pleasure, spine bowing, voice breaking, his cock pulsing, until
all he knew was his alpha inside him, York trembling as his thrusts grew ragged and his
cock thickened.
“F-fuck, Perry,” York snarled. He shoved Perry down onto his cock, roaring as he came.
Warmth flooded Perry’s insides; he clung to York, quivering, his body squeezing
around his alpha.
York held Perry against himself, panting, Perry’s come smearing between them.
It was a moment before Perry could think again. Another moment before he realized
he’d done this with York, and that York knew who he was now. They were tangled up
on Perry’s bed, in Perry’s apartment, and there was no hiding his past from York
anymore.
And York had promised to be Perry’s alpha.
His heart wringing tight, Perry hid his face against York’s chest. “You... didn’t really
mean all that, did you?”
“Mean what?” York ran his fingers through Perry’s hair.
“The—The thing about being my alpha.” Perry’s stomach twisted. Sex made people do
reckless things. Now that their minds were clearing, maybe York would take his words
back. “You said—You said forever.”
Then he felt like an idiot for bringing it up, because York had probably forgotten about
it.
York blushed, but he tightened his arms against Perry’s back. “Yeah,” he growled. “I
meant it.”
Perry’s entire body burned. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t even know me. I was just someone you met online, York. And in person...”
“I know enough.”
When Perry dared to glance up, he found York watching him, those blue eyes intent,
patient. Like Perry was someone important. “You can’t—”
York slid his fingers through Perry’s hair, leaned up, and kissed him softly on the lips.
“Yeah, I do.”
Perry’s heart stuttered. “There are still things you need to know,” he mumbled, and
then stopped. York’s knot had swelled fully inside him, locking them together. Perry
didn’t want to come clean when he had no escape route.
“What do I need to know?” York slid his thumb across Perry’s lower lip. When Perry
didn’t answer, his gaze sharpened. “Perry?”
Perry squirmed. Their bodies brushed together, sweat caught between their skin. It
wasn’t the right time to be talking about this.
York stroked his palm down Perry’s spine. “Is it your scars?”
Perry shook his head, his throat growing tight. “We don’t—have to talk about this right
now.”
The map of possibilities unfurled before him: York finding out about Caleb, York’s face
twisting in disgust, or anger. Or betrayal. York shoving Perry away, tearing Perry off
his knot. Micah had said that not all alphas hurt others, but he hadn’t hidden a child
from an alpha before, had he?
Whichever route they took, there would be pain.
“Tell me,” York said.
“You’ll hate me,” Perry whimpered, his stomach twisting.
“I promise I won’t hurt you.” York held Perry close, pressing kisses to his forehead. “I
swear.”
But Perry saw the flicker of doubt in York’s eyes, the wariness. And Perry couldn’t
possibly do that to him. “I should just... leave.”
“It’s not the scars,” York said, glancing past Perry’s shoulder, at his back. “Do you mean
your job? Are you in debt?”
Perry shook his head, his throat squeezing tight. His palms sweated. He needed to
leave, now. Before this ruined everything between them.
Ever so slowly, York’s gaze shifted to the closed door. “Caleb?”
Perry’s stomach clenched into a cold, hard lump. He looked at the pillows, and didn’t
know what to say. He’d never intended for York to find out at all. He’d never intended
for things to get this complicated between them.
“He’s four,” York said slowly. “And it’s almost five years since you disappeared. ‘Bout
four and eleven months. When’s his birthday?”
“May 16.” Perry couldn’t meet his eyes.

York was silent for a moment, working the numbers out in his head. “But you were in
heat eight months before that.”
“He was a preemie. Thirty-five weeks. He had to stay in the hospital for a while.” Perry
bit his lip, his pulse racing. With every bit of information, it felt as though he was
edging closer to his own destruction.
“So you conceived him when you were in heat.” York’s gaze fixed on Perry. “When—
When you met me.” And then the possibilities crashed into York; his eyes widened.
Perry couldn’t breathe.
“Did you see someone else after that night?” York asked softly.
“Does it matter?” And now Perry’s voice was barely-there. He thought about shoving
away from York, except his body snagged around York’s knot, sending a hum of
pleasure through their bodies. It shouldn’t feel this good when Perry was on the verge
of imploding.
York hissed, circling Perry’s wrists with his hands. “Look in my eyes, Perry. Tell me
that child is mine.”
Perry’s insides withered. He couldn’t do this. He really couldn’t.
He remembered York’s fury, when he’d glimpsed Ron at the toy store.
He remembered being slammed against walls, and he remembered being punched in

the face. By alphas he should’ve been able to trust. He remembered pain, crumpling
onto cold floors, and bleeding, hurting everywhere.
York had promised not to hurt Perry, but in the face of a secret like that—having a
secret child for four years... Surely that would change him. York would forget all his love
for Perry. He would punch Perry in the face, maybe break his nose.
Perry trembled, fear closing his throat. “No,” he croaked. “He isn’t yours.”
Y ORK HADN ’ T BEEN sure what to expect. But he sure as hell didn’t think the gut punch
would hurt this much.
“He... isn’t mine,” he said numbly. Because for a moment there, York had thought of
Caleb as his and Perry’s. He’d kind of wanted more than an unborn child.
But doubt twisted up his spine. How the hell did he care for his own child? He’d
babysat Lenna on and off, but being responsible for a child for the next fourteen years?
York blew out a breath, trying not to imagine Perry sleeping with someone else. His
stomach roiled. It was Perry’s right. Didn’t mean York had to like it.
“I’m sorry,” Perry said, so quietly that York almost missed it. He tugged at the knot
again, as though he was trying to escape. Like how he’d run five years ago.
York caught Perry’s wrists. Then he pulled Perry flush against his chest, holding him
close. “It’s fine,” York muttered. Even though it wasn’t fine. “He’s still a good kid.”
Perry buried his face in York’s shoulder, trembling. “Oh.”
York looked up at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with all of this. Perry as
FrogPrince. Caleb conceived in the same week York had slept with Perry, except Caleb
wasn’t York’s. Caleb was innocent, though. And he was still Perry’s son.
York could live with it. He hadn’t even known about Caleb’s existence until a few
weeks ago, anyway.
“S-so this,” Perry mumbled, hiding his face. “You... You still want this?”
“Us?” York ran his hand down Perry’s spine, soaking up Perry’s warmth. “Hell yeah, I
do.”
“Oh.” Slowly, the tension in Perry’s shoulders seeped away. He still held himself
cautiously, but at least he was no longer trembling. “Even if... Caleb isn’t—isn’t yours?”
“I mean what I said, you know,” York murmured. “Earlier in the shop. I love you.”
Felt like he was exposing a vulnerable part of himself.
Perry sucked in a shaky breath, his chest heaving. “It’s—It’s too soon for you to say
that.”
And he didn’t answer York in kind. York swallowed hard. Liking someone was one
thing, but love was on a whole other level. And Perry had no obligation to fall in love
with York.
That was probably the hardest pill to swallow.
Perry’s face grew red. Gods, he was so beautiful. Those pink lips, his intelligent gaze,
his slender neck flaring out to his shoulders. There were faint teeth marks next to his
scent gland, that matched the imprint of York’s teeth.
For a second, York wondered if he should’ve just bitten Perry on the scent gland,
marked him as his. Except... With the number of scars already on Perry’s neck—four?
Five?—York couldn’t just give Perry a bonding mark. He would’ve been no different
from the bastards in Perry’s past.
He would wait for Perry. Even if Perry never ended up feeling the same about York.
What was another ten years, when York had already waited five?
“Maybe you should... return to your apartment,” Perry mumbled, his ears turning pink.
“Just—Just so you have a chance to think things over. Before you make commitments
you’ll regret.”
York almost snorted. He flipped them over on the bed, their skin still sweaty, Perry now
pressed beneath him, small and wonderful. “Never gonna regret you, Prince.”
“But... surely there are people you don’t like. Your dad mentioned that you hold
grudges.”
“Yeah, well. Cole’s different.” York scowled. “He caused the fire that gave my dad his
scars.”
“Micah said it was an accident. Didn’t it happen a decade ago?”
York narrowed his eyes, anger flickering through his chest. “He’s at fault. I’m not
forgiving him for it.”
“Even if your injuries have healed?” Perry glanced at York’s scarred fingers.
York shook his head, remembering the things he’d lost in that fire. And his dad’s
misery lasting through the years. “No. Not gonna. There’s two kinds of people I hate
most in the world, and that’s liars, and people who hurt those I love.”
Perry blinked hard. “Oh.”
“What, you want me to forgive him?” York frowned. Perry didn’t even know that guy.
“Don’t you think... it’s better to forgive and move on? When people regret their past
actions?”
“Forgive? Who does that?” York breathed out, scowling at the bed. “Let’s not talk about
him.”
“I just think... that maybe it’s easier not holding on to so much negativity in your heart,”
Perry said quietly. “Because it... takes up space when you could be feeling love instead.
Or happiness.”
“Why do you care so much about someone you’ve never met?” York asked, scrutinizing
Perry. “Or do you actually know him?”
Perry shook his head, looking away. “It just, well. I think you might be happier if you
let go of the past. Please think about it?”
“Maybe.” York leaned in, kissing Perry on the lips. Just savoring his taste, his scent, his
beautiful soul, in need of protection. “Mine.”
Perry flushed all the way down his throat. But he couldn’t meet York’s eyes at all.
“You okay?” York murmured, kissing his forehead.
Perry wet his lips, looking uneasy. “I guess.”
“What’s wrong? Still on the thing about Caleb?” York gathered Perry into his arms.
Pressed his nose against Perry’s skin, and breathed him in.
Perry laughed mirthlessly. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
“It’s fine.” York kissed the corner of his lips. “Guess it shouldn’t matter whose he is,
anyway. I didn’t know he existed before I found you again.”
Perry squirmed. Then he sighed. “You really should go home, you know.”
Except York wasn’t so keen on returning to his own apartment. There wasn’t much
there, just his computer, his games, and... no omega.
“Nah,” York said, nuzzling the beginnings of hickeys on Perry’s throat. “I wanna stay
here with you. That’s fine, right?”
Perry’s throat worked. For a moment, he seemed torn. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Fine.
But just for today. You have to return to your own apartment tomorrow. Promise me
that.”
“I promise.”
York wrapped himself around his omega, dragging his wrists down Perry’s limbs.
Perry trembled, the look in his eyes so troubled, that York’s heart ached for him.
Why was Caleb’s parentage so important to Perry? Or was there something else Perry
wasn’t telling York?
“Y OU HAVE to break up with him,” Perry said. “It’s best that he doesn’t know.”
“You aren’t even together,” his reflection answered. “Would you call that breaking
up?”
“I don’t know,” Perry said, feeling defeated.
In the mirror, he looked like a mess: shadows under his eyes, his face pale. Two nights
ago, York had fallen asleep curled around Perry, and Perry had stayed awake the entire
time.
Perry didn’t know how long he could keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. A week?
Three? A few months? York had already said I love you, and when he found out... things
would get so terrible, that maybe Perry wouldn’t even survive it.
What if Perry blurted it in his sleep? What if he woke up to pain, because York couldn’t
deal with the horror of Perry’s secret, and hit him?
In his own subtle way, Perry had tried convincing York to forgive. If not himself, then
someone else. But York refused. When he found out about Caleb... he would be furious.
Perry scrubbed his face, regretting the lie. It sat heavily on his heart. None of this was
supposed to happen. I hate liars, York had said.
Maybe I can convince him to leave. Perry stared at the college restroom ceiling, his heart
thumping. Maybe he won’t want to be Caleb’s dad anyway when Caleb throws a tantrum.
Maybe I can disgust him enough that Caleb won’t matter anymore.
Suddenly, the fog in his mind lifted.
If Perry could convince York that their relationship wouldn’t work out... Then there
would be no need to question Caleb’s parentage at all. York wouldn’t even want to
know. He would leave, and... he would be free to find a better omega for himself.
Someone younger. Someone with more energy and optimism and everything. Someone
who... wasn’t broken.
Perry swallowed hard, squaring his jaw. He refreshed the foundation hiding his
hickeys. Then he straightened his shoulders, stepping out of the restroom.
Losing York in a month? That sounded like something out of the movies. How to Lose
An Alpha in Thirty Days.
“I can do it,” Perry murmured to himself. “I just have to find out what he hates the
most.”
Like a liar, don’t you think? Perry shoved that thought out of his mind, and stepped into
his office.
As always, the familiarity of his office comforted him. Therapist Prototype VII sat on
one side of his desk, changed back from its nighttime identity as The Boyfriend. Perry
had done the switch when he could no longer lie awake in bed the night before.
Halfway through his tinkering, York had stepped into the kitchen, eyeing the machine.
I don’t need a massage right now, Perry had said.
York had given him a lazy grin, stepped behind Perry, and stroked him through his
clothes until Perry’s hands had trembled. Then York had hefted him up, bent him over
the kitchen table, and he’d slid into Perry good and hard, with The Boyfriend as a
witness.
Perry had been embarrassed by how loud he’d been, taking his alpha’s cock. Then he’d
come all over the kitchen table, and York had gathered up that sticky fluid, and licked it
off his fingers.
The memory sent tingles between his legs. Perry gulped, breathing in deep. I shouldn’t
be thinking about York right now. I’d just fill the office with musk.
Besides, York was still on duty at the station. At least, he would’ve been until twenty
minutes ago. Right now, he was probably on his way home, to wind down and take a
nap.
Someone knocked on Perry’s office door. He startled, looking up.
It couldn’t be York—there was just no way. Firefighters didn’t visit colleges. But... Perry
couldn’t help hoping it’d be his alpha, anyway. His heart skipped.
“Come in,” he said.

S IXTEEN HOURS . That was York’s limit to being away from his omega.
For the past eight hours, he’d prowled restlessly through the station, offering to help
Dom with the reports. Then he’d asked Harris about the omega Harris shared with
Valen, and he’d decided that he’d rather have Perry all to himself.
York had scrubbed down the station’s mini kitchen, he’d grudgingly taken a nap when
Harris ordered him to, and he’d accidentally woken up with a hard-on, dreaming about
Perry.
At least, York hadn’t been the only one spending his dreams with an omega, so it
wasn’t as embarrassing. Brad had tucked away his own erection, nudging York
playfully.
And now it was finally, finally, time to go home. To an empty apartment.
York hung his uniform in his locker, wondering how Perry would react if he were to
stride through the college corridors in his full firefighting regalia. Would Perry look at
him in admiration? Would he squeak when York pressed him against the wall?
But thinking about Perry—FrogPrince—in his office now, York saw Prince’s lie for what
it was: that Prince had never actually quit teaching at the college. Perry had always
been there. He’d spent four years just walking past York in those damn corridors, and
the whole time, York had never known.
And Perry had never told him.
Was it possible to love someone, and be mad at them at the same time? Yeah, it was.
York growled, shoving his feet into his jeans harder than necessary. Part of him wanted
to yell at Perry about it. Another part of him understood why Perry had done that—
because York would’ve gone straight to Perry, and they would’ve fucked right there in
Perry’s office, consequences be damned.
It just got under his skin, knowing how many weekends they could’ve shared. How
many nights York could’ve spent in Perry’s bed, just pleasuring him.
Dad had been right about Perry’s tulip scent. York should’ve clued in earlier. Damn it.
He shut his locker harder than necessary.

“Whoa.” Gareth clapped York on the shoulder, crow’s feet crinkling his eyes. “You
okay? You’ve been antsy the whole night.”
“Yeah.” York shrugged. “Just some things going on back home, is all.”
“You got an omega?” Gareth grinned. “I hear they can be real trouble.”
“Mine’s trouble.” York cracked a smile. “I love him, though.”
“Yeah?” Gareth looked almost wistful then. “Good for you.”
“Do you have one?” York blurted. He probably shouldn’t have asked. It was too
personal a question, and he was still too new at the station.
Gareth paused. For a moment, his gaze turned faraway. And York noticed too late the
lack of a ring on Gareth’s finger. Or the lack of an omega’s floral scent on him.
“A long time ago,” Gareth said quietly, then shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m over it. So, tell me
about your boyfriend.”
Was Perry his boyfriend? They’d never really straightened that out. Hell, Perry had
been trying to avoid York, all the way up until the toy store. And then they’d fallen into
bed together, and they hadn’t had time to discuss anything yet. York had been thinking
too much with his other head. His face heated.
“He’s someone I knew from a while back,” he said. “I just recently found him again.
And I, uh, I knocked him up.”
Gareth gave a low whistle. A couple of the other guys glanced over. “So you’re gonna
be a dad now?”
“You’re kinda young,” Brad said, raising his eyebrows. “But hey—your life, your
choice.”
“I’m not young.” York scowled.
“You sure you wanna be a dad?” Jesse threw him a dubious look, all brawny and
scarred. “I hear it’s tough.”
York bit down his laugh, hearing that from Jesse. “I haven’t thought about it,” he said.
“But I think I do.”
Was he good enough to be a dad, though? Enough to match Perry? York wet his lips,
shutting his locker. He had his baby sister, but she was still his sibling, and not his child.
He could go running to his dad if he had any trouble with Lenna. But running to Perry
for help with their child?
“Okay, maybe I’m a bit too young for this,” York said, his pulse racing. He would do all
the research he could. He would check the internet if he ran into any trouble. He
wouldn’t rely on Perry first, because he couldn’t keep doing that his whole life.
Hopefully that was enough.
York was so caught up with the thought of raising his child, that he completely missed
Cole Lancaster stepping into the locker room. That alpha who had given York’s dad all
those scars.
“Hey,” Cole said, giving a small wave. “How’s it going?”
“Hey,” York answered on instinct, distracted. Then he froze. He’d never, ever been
cordial with Cole. Ever. Because he couldn’t forgive that man.
Cole looked just as surprised.
“Looks like lil’ York’s thawing out,” Gareth said, throwing his arm around York’s
shoulders. “How does it feel to grow up?”
He winked, and York scowled. “Shove off,” York muttered, his cheeks growing hot.
“I’m outta here.”
He shrugged off Gareth’s arm and shouldered his way out of the locker room, trying to
muster the anger that always came with seeing Cole. But today, with the baby weighing
on his heart and the anticipation of seeing Perry again... York couldn’t find it in himself
to be angry with Cole at all.
Maybe I’ll be pissed later, York thought.
He got into his car, heading for his apartment. Midway, he had an idea.
York changed directions. Made a left turn, and headed for the college instead. Did Perry
have a lecture right now, or was he in his office?
Would he be pleased to see York there?
Despite the fatigue dulling his senses, York’s heart skipped. He parked at the science
faculty and strode through the familiar doorways, doubling up the stairwell to the
professors’ offices.
This place always smelled like textbooks, and, vaguely, peach cleaning fluid. York had
spent much of his undergrad years dropping off his car keys at his dad’s office—they’d
shared a car, and aside from FrogPrince, Dad had been York’s best friend.
York followed the route to Micah Davis’ office. With a twinge of guilt, he passed the
door—it wasn’t like the lights were on, anyway.
Past the chemistry department were the restrooms, and after that, the computer sciences
department. The names on the doors all looked unfamiliar. York wandered down the
hallway, trying to find Perry’s name.
The door to the omegas’ restroom opened. York’s heart leaped.
“York?” Micah Davis asked, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. “What are you
doing here?”
“D-Dad.” York tried not to blush, and failed. Who even returned to college after they’d
graduated? And of all people, why did he have to bump into his dad?
Dad bit down his smile. He limped out of the restroom, patting his hands dry on his
pants. “Were you able to find Perry’s office? It’s right here.”
“I don’t need help,” York muttered.
“Then you wouldn’t be standing in front of the wrong door.” Dad strode down the
hallway, turning down a different corridor from the ones York had checked. “He’s
here.”
York scrubbed his face, hating that he was following his dad anyway. He really needed
to see Perry, and he needed to see Perry now. “I’m fine.”
Dad laughed quietly. “After most shifts, you’d be home sleeping, instead of poking
around professors’ offices.”
“Yeah, well.” York sniffed at his clothes. He did reek of smoke and ash. “Should’ve
showered first. Damn it.”
“You know where the gym is.”
“I’m going straight home after this.” York glowered. “I’m not camping out in his
office.”
Dad coughed discreetly. “I would hope not.”
“It’s just a short visit!” And now York’s cheeks scorched. Did Dad really think he was
going to fuck Perry here? “I’m not gonna—you know.”
“Sure.” Dad didn’t look convinced at all. He stifled his laugh, stopping in front of a
name plate that read Perry Larkin, Robotics. Then, he knocked.
York’s heart raced. Light shone through the paper-covered glass pane on the door;
Perry was just out of reach. Then Perry’s voice said, “Come in,” and York was stepping
around his dad, opening the door, barging into the room before he could think.
Perry looked small behind his desk, his hair mussed, shadows under his eyes. But he
was still beautiful. York’s pulse quickened.
Perry’s eyes grew wide. Then his gaze flickered to Micah, and worry darted through his
face. “Is something wrong?”
“Hey,” York growled, his throat growing tight with need. He was moving around the
desk, crowding into Perry’s space, slipping his fingers against Perry’s nape and leaning
in, meshing their lips together.
Perry’s breath rushed out. “York—”
After a whole day of not seeing his omega, his voice slid right down York’s spine.
“Missed you,” York whispered against Perry’s lips, kissing him a second time. He
dipped his tongue into Perry’s warm, damp mouth—Perry tasted like tea—then
dragged his wrist down Perry’s chest, refreshing his scent marking on his omega. So
Perry smelled like his again.
“Why—Why are you here?” Perry asked breathlessly, his fingers closing around York’s
wrist.
“Wanted your apartment key,” York murmured. “I wanted to fall asleep in your bed.”
Perry flushed. “You—You shouldn’t.”
York kissed the corner of his lips. “Why not?”
“Because... Because I’m a slob.” Perry looked like he was fumbling for a reason. “My
clothes are everywhere and I haven’t made the bed.”
“Just means it smells like you.”
But Perry leaned away, glancing to the side where Micah stood, watching them
amusedly. “S-Sorry,” Perry said, his cheeks turning pinker. “I just...”
“Gods, you’re adorable.” York cupped Perry’s cheeks, turning Perry back to face him.
He kissed his omega again, thoroughly, so Perry gasped and opened for him, his breath
mingling with York’s. Damn. Perry was always so responsive, and always so eager.
York wanted Perry beneath him, moaning into his mouth.
Dad coughed discreetly to the side. “Maybe let Perry speak, York. Perry, I apologize for
his behavior. He’s... usually better about this.”
York broke the kiss, scowling at his dad. “I haven’t seen him for twenty-four hours.
Why’re you still here?”
“Trust me, I’d rather not witness this, either.” Dad smiled wryly. For a moment, he
exchanged a look with Perry—something deeper, something that felt like a question.
Perry squirmed, but he nodded. Dad gave a tiny smile.
“What was that about?” York asked, suspicious.
“Omega matters,” Dad said. “You didn’t reply to my text—my heat starts tomorrow.
Would you watch Lenna for a couple of days while I see to it?”
Yeah, because Dad would be spending his heat with Spike and Kai. York didn’t want to
think further than that. “Sure.”
“You know where to get all her things,” Dad continued. “And if you need help—”
“I know.” York scowled. “I’ve done this before, Dad.”
He didn’t feel especially like an adult, talking with his dad in front of his omega. He
wanted to impress Perry, damn it! But Perry just smiled.
Dad set his hand on the door handle; York perked up, waiting to be alone with Perry.
“One last thing,” Dad said, glancing at Perry. “About that massager...”
Perry flushed. “I’ve got a prototype almost ready. It just needs testing. But I’ll, um, I’ll
be sure to give you a working unit soon.”
Dad grinned. “I’ll be forever indebted to you. Thanks.”
He slipped out through the door, and York turned to Perry. “What was all that about?”
“The massager?” Perry turned a deeper shade of crimson.
“That too, but I meant the look he gave you. Like... he was asking if you were okay, or
something.”
Perry squirmed, looking at his hands. “I guess he was.”
“Why the hell would he ask that? Are you... not okay?” And maybe Perry wasn’t, with
those shadows under his eyes.
“Do we have to talk about it right now?” Perry winced.
“Yes. Because it feels like he knows more than I do.” York settled into a crouch in front
of Perry, looking into his eyes. “What was he so worried about?”
Perry bit his lip, hesitating. “I’m broken, York.”
“You’re perfect.”
Perry laughed wryly. “Someday, you’ll see me for who I am.”
“I already see you for who you are.” York inched between Perry’s knees, wrapping his
arms around Perry’s waist. “And I want you to be mine.”
Perry sucked in a sharp breath, his lips trembling in a smile. “Sometimes I fart in my
sleep. Really badly.”
York stared. Where had that come from? “Well, I probably do, too. I just don’t know it
because I’m sleeping, y’know? But I figure everyone farts.”
Perry squirmed. “And I’m going to be puking all over real soon. Morning sickness. You
might get some all over you.”
York shrugged. “Lenna was spitting up on me all the time. Can’t be too different,
right?”
“Except it stinks, I guess.”
“She’s also pooped on me, so.”
“I... I lost a bet once and had to be bald for days. I was so upset, I cried.”
York imagined Perry upset over his bald head, and couldn’t help smiling. “Well, that
just makes you human.”
“It makes me really vain,” Perry muttered.
“Yeah, well. We all have faults.”
“I’ve spent thousands of hours on The Boyfriend, York. This whole project... I searched
for grants for the Therapist, but all I really wanted was to turn it into The Boyfriend.”
Perry couldn’t even meet his eyes, saying that.
York grinned. “Well. The Boyfriend was saving a spot for me.”
“But those hundreds of hours.”

“I’ve probably spent just as long on Frog Island. At least you have something to show
for it. I just have a bunch of YouTube videos.”
Perry glanced up, sagging. “You’re determined to see all the good in me, aren’t you?”
York snorted. “What, are you trying to chase me off, or something?”
Perry squirmed harder. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Perry bit his lip, twisting his fingers together. “I’m not so great for you.”
“Why don’t I decide that for myself,” York said. Because it wasn’t a question at all. “All
you have to be worried about, is getting your ass home tonight. ‘Cuz I want to see you
in bed.”
Perry shivered, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “But we’re not—we’re not...”
“I want us to be,” York murmured, brushing Perry’s hair away from his face. “I want
you to be my boyfriend. My bondmate.”
Okay, that slipped out without York thinking. Bondmates were permanent. For life.
Like, husband-and-husband. But it wasn’t like York wanted anyone aside from Perry.
Perry stared at York in horror, shoving himself backward. “We can’t,” he cried.
“Why?” York growled. Perry wanted him. It felt like all they really needed was some
commitment. Maybe love didn’t have to be involved.
“Because—” Perry gulped, looking down at himself. Then he pulled his shirt hem out of
his pants, revealing the expanse of scars on his abdomen. Thin, long lines, blotches of
silvery tissue, like something had scraped swathes out of his skin. “Because I really am
broken. That was what your dad was asking about. The—The alphas. I can’t... I can’t
trust alphas, York.”
York stared at the scars, Perry’s words floating in his head. “Even me?”
Perry wet his lips. “I—” he gulped, and tried again “—I like you,” Perry said, so quietly
that York almost missed it. “And I want to trust you, but I just... I don’t know if I can.”
“You know you can trust me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“They promised they wouldn’t hurt me,” Perry said in a small voice.
And York wanted every one of those alphas to bleed.

Perry blew out a deep breath. “I’m trying to believe. I tell myself you won’t hurt me. On
a surface level, I know. But it’s not just a matter of saying what I will and won’t feel.
“Fear is... something that roots deep. It’s an instinct. It’s growing up with your alpha
dad crumpling up your homework and throwing it on the floor. It’s being beaten up as
a child when you didn’t know better. It’s being taunted by your alpha classmates after
they’ve presented, it’s being thrown against walls by alphas you were supposed to
trust. I want to trust you, York. It just... It’s so difficult.”
York held his breath, picturing all that happening to Perry. His heart hurt. He needed to
beat someone up, but Perry’s exes were gone now.
“I want to believe,” Perry said quietly. “I keep thinking that if I’m good enough, if I
weren’t so terrible, maybe I won’t get beaten up.”
York pulled him close, stroking Perry’s hair. “I told you, you’re perfect.”
Perry shook his head, glass in his eyes. “I’ve made terrible decisions. I still am making
them. I’m not... worth your time, you know.”
How could Perry even think that about himself? York leaned back, touching Perry’s
cheek, his lips. “You’re worth every bit of my time. And my protection. You don’t see
how beautiful you are, Prince.”
With a sigh, Perry leaned away. “I’m far too much work. It’ll be easier for you to find
another omega.”
“No,” York growled, pressing his hand over Perry’s belly, where their baby was. “Not
gonna.”
Shakily, Perry glanced at him, his lips pulled thin.
“I’m gonna prove you wrong,” York murmured. “Today, and every day from now on.”
Perry laughed breathlessly. “It almost sounds like you’re proposing.”
Marriage almost seemed like a good idea. Except for the part where York was totally
unprepared to adopt Caleb. Or be a dad. “You wouldn’t say yes, would you?”
Perry shook his head. York sighed, relieved. “That’s fine. I’m not ready, either.”
“So...”
“In the meantime, I want to sleep in your bed.” York nuzzled him. “And I wanna hear
about that massager you’re working on for my dad. Is it like, a back massager, or is it
one of those?” He nodded at the Therapist.
Perry flushed a deep red. “It’s... It’s a sleeve vibrator designed to go around a knot. I
have a prototype with me.”
York perked up, glancing around. Just behind Perry’s desk, on a shelf concealed from
sight, a dildo sat wrapped in a transparent sleeve. Around its knot, a white mesh had
been embedded into the silicone, two tiny blue lights flashing on either side.
“I tried to make it knot-only,” Perry mumbled, looking sheepish. “But it would bunch
up before entering m—a body. So I had to go with the sleeve. Kind of like a condom.”
York grinned. “You were testing it on yourself?”
Perry squirmed. “That tends to be the safest method, yes. No one else will get hurt.”
Part of York wanted to ask, But what if you get hurt? Another part just wanted to watch
Perry fiddle with all these sex toys, putting things inside himself.
“Need a knot-having person to test it, though?” York spread his legs; Perry’s gaze
dropped to his groin.
A blush swept through Perry’s face. “Weren’t you supposed to go home and sleep?”
“I might jerk off a couple times thinking about you.” York licked his lips. “And I
definitely wanna knot you with that thing on. Make you cream a couple more times.”
Perry groaned, covering his face. His musk hid nothing. Didn’t really help the growing
whirl of hunger in York’s gut.
“Hey, do you have a small plug around?” York squeezed Perry’s thigh. “Something you
can wear through today, until later. So you’ll think of me all the time.”
Like York expected, Perry squawked. “I can’t do that! I’m working!”
“But you do have a plug.”
Perry’s gaze darted to his bottommost desk drawer. York leaned over, pulling it open.
In the midst of screwdrivers and loose plastic parts, he found a green glass plug in a
velvet box. Small, see-through, just the right size to keep Perry the slightest bit open.
Enough to remind him of York.
“Oh, gods,” Perry whispered. “I just—I just happened to have one here—”
“Did you, really?” York grinned. “You’ve never worn it at work before?”
Perry bit down hard on his lip, and couldn’t look York in the eye.
“How many times have you worn it?” York murmured, squeezing Perry’s thigh.
“A-A couple. Maybe five. But I’ve been in this office for years!”
“And how many times did you get off while wearing it? At work.”
Perry’s pink tongue darted over his lip. “I... didn’t count.”
“Once? Twice? Ten times?”
“Maybe seven,” Perry mumbled.
“Were you thinking about me?” York rumbled, leaning closer, his instincts clamoring to
claim Perry as his.
“After you turned eighteen, yes.” Perry flushed.
“What about last year, when I was still in college?”
Perry turned redder. “We really shouldn’t be talking about this.”
York grinned. So maybe it wasn’t so bad, not knowing who Perry was for years. Perry
had still been dreaming about York all the same.
York straightened, rounding the desk. Then he shut off the lights, and locked the door.
Perry’s pupils dilated. “I’m supposed to be available to my students—”
“Two minutes.” York grinned. “Doesn’t take that long to insert this.” He wriggled the
plug between his fingertips, and Perry moaned. “On your feet, Prince.”
Perry stood shakily; York crowded close behind him, so their bodies pressed flush
together, Perry’s ass against York’s thighs. Then he pinned Perry against the desk and
reached around, undoing Perry’s belt. In the silence, the belt whispered through the
buckle, and the zipper rasped.
York eased Perry’s pants and underwear down, just past the curve of his ass. “Present
for me.”
Perry wheezed, his chest heaving. But he did it anyway. He reached down, grasped his
asscheeks, and pulled them open, so his musk slammed into York’s lungs.
“You aren’t scared of me,” York whispered.
Perry hesitated, then shook his head. “Not right now.”
“So why...?”
“Only when you get mad. I realize that must sound unreasonable. I just...”
York kissed his shoulder. “You have a right to. And I’ll try not to get mad. It’s not like
you can make me mad, anyway.”
Perry sighed, closing his eyes. “Put it in, York.”
York smiled. “Put what in?”
“Oh, gods. You’re going to make me say it?”
York hadn’t been intending to, but now he was. “Yeah,” he growled.
Perry’s blush crept down his neck. “Put the plug in me.”
“Where?” York grinned, his cock growing full. He loved how shy Perry got over this.
“In my ass.” Perry squirmed, turning red all the way down his neck.
York growled, pressing the plug against Perry’s lips. “Suck on it. Get it wet and ready.”
With a trembling breath, Perry took the three inches of smooth glass into his mouth,
swirling his tongue around it. When York slipped it back out, it glistened with spit.
“Very nice,” he whispered. Then he brought the plug closer, let his own saliva drip onto
its pointed end, and pushed it between Perry’s cheeks.
After all Perry had said about being broken, and not trusting alphas... He was here, in
his office with his pants down, allowing himself to be vulnerable with York. Allowing
York to touch him inside, slip a reminder of himself inside Perry.
Maybe York was reading too much into this, but it felt like Perry trusted him
completely in this moment. And if that didn’t make his heart swell, he didn’t know
what did.
“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” York whispered, nudging Perry’s entrance with the
plug.
Perry gasped, his tight, pink hole squeezing. York wanted to push his fingers into it,
open him up, fuck inside with his cock. Perry would clench so tight around him,
begging for York’s come. Gods. Shouldn’t keep thinking like that. Gonna bend him over right
here if I do. Instead, York tapped the plug against Perry’s entrance. “C’mon. Relax. We
don’t have that much time.”
“Okay,” Perry breathed.
And York pressed the plug against his omega, feeling just the slightest bit of resistance,
before Perry’s hole opened, accepting the invasion.
Inch by inch, the plug slid in, until the widest point breached Perry’s entrance, and
Perry’s body swallowed the smooth glass, closing around the neck of the plug. York
grasped the flared base and pulled the plug back out, just to see Perry’s hole open
again. “Fuck.”
“York,” Perry gasped.
York pushed the plug back in, pressing its base snug against Perry’s hole. “Leave it in
until tonight,” York murmured. “I want you to think of me whenever you move.”
“This will be torture.” Perry moaned and hid his face. He leaned back against York, his
body warm and pliable. But he wasn’t rejecting the plug York had left inside him.
York’s instincts rumbled.
“I’ll pick Caleb up from daycare,” York offered. “How’s that sound?”
Perry paused for a moment, before answering. “I guess you could. I’ll call ahead to
change the permissions.”
“Text me the address.”
“I will.”
York squeezed Perry’s warm ass, then pulled his clothes back up. He zipped Perry’s
pants, buckled his belt, and tried to wipe the smirk off his own face. He didn’t quite
succeed.
“You look like you’ve just caught yourself some prey,” Perry muttered.
“You?” York grinned, dropping a kiss on his lips. “I can’t wait for you to get home. Will
you give me your apartment keys? I swear I’ll shower before I touch your mattress.”
Perry bit his lip, but he was smiling anyway. “Fine. Here.” He fished out his keys, and
dropped them in York’s palm. “This one’s for the apartment door.”
Gods, it would feel so good to sleep in Perry’s bed, surrounded by his scent. “Would
you mind if some of my things show up at your place?” York murmured, stroking
Perry’s sides. “Or if a couple of your briefs disappear because I’m stealing them home?”
Perry laughed. “I guess I don’t mind.”
“Good.” York patted Perry’s ass, kissing him deep again. Perry whimpered, falling
against York, his lips seeking, his eyes half-shut. Hard to believe that Perry hadn’t been
touched by anyone in months, save for York. He was so damn perfect. “See you later?”
Perry nodded eagerly. Then he almost looked furious with himself.

“What’s wrong?” York asked.
“Nothing.” Perry smiled again. It was slightly strained this time, though. And York had
the uneasy feeling that Perry was still sitting on more secrets.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” York asked. “I don’t need to know all
your secrets, but... I don’t want you to lie to me. I hate it when people do.”
Perry looked at his desk, his smile fading. “I’ll see what I can do. I promise.”
It wasn’t an admission, but York couldn’t help that tiny nagging feeling in his chest.
FrogPrince had hurt him before. This time... he could trust Perry, right?
“Y OU MESSED UP TODAY ,” Perry muttered to himself. “And York will be home tonight.
You need to try harder.”
I want you to be my bondmate, York had said this morning.
Perry’s heart squeezed. At least, York hadn’t actually proposed. That would have been
bad.
Funnily enough, with how easy it was to flee all his previous alphas, Perry was
encountering the opposite problem with York—he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Or
maybe it was York refusing to leave.
He rang the bell to his apartment—the first time he’d ever had to do that. It felt strange.
“Coming,” York rumbled on the other side of the door. A child squealed—not Caleb.
Then the door opened, and York stood in the doorway, clad in a T-shirt and shorts, with
a little girl in his arms.
He looked... amazing. The T-shirt clung to his pecs, stretched around his biceps, and led
down to a pair of loose shorts. But the girl—she couldn’t be older than two, and she
looked comfortable in York’s embrace. Tiny compared to York. And York just held her,
like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Perry stared. He hadn’t realized that an alpha could look so smoking hot with a baby in
his arms.
“I pass the inspection?” York’s lips curved in a lazy smile.
Perry’s heart stuttered. “Um. Yes.”
“Good.” York grinned wider. “Perry, this is Lenna, my little sis. Lenna, meet Perry.
Perry’s my boyfriend.”
Perry flushed. I guess we really are boyfriends now.
Two-year-old Lenna looked curiously at Perry, all copper eyes and brown hair. “Per-
ry?”
“Yup,” York said, shaking her little hand. “I guess he’s Uncle Perry to you. Sort of.
Would be weird if you called him your brother-in-law.”
Before Perry could blush, Caleb yelled, “Daddy!”
Caleb raced through the living room, throwing himself at Perry. Perry’s heart swelled;
he caught Caleb and hugged him close, avoiding Caleb’s glasses so they didn’t smash.
“Missed you so much, hon. How was kindergarten?”
“I colored many things! And I ate a chicken sandwich for lunch. And I made a card for
you.” Caleb beamed. Then his smile fell. “But Bob said I suck.”
“Why?” Perry asked.
“‘Cuz I don’t have a—a alpha dad.”
Perry’s heart sank. He’d been hoping that Caleb wouldn’t have to deal with that yet.
York crouched next to Perry and Caleb, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t listen to Bob, he’s a
bunch of bird poop. Tell you what—why don’t I be your alpha dad?”
Caleb brightened. York froze, as though he hadn’t expected himself to offer that. Perry’s
ears rang.
York wasn’t supposed to be Caleb’s dad at all. And Caleb couldn’t form that bond with
York, or he would hurt when things eventually shattered.
“You’re my alpha daddy?” Caleb brightened. “Are you gonna marry Daddy?”
Perry’s heart tightened. York met his eyes, and the faintest pink crossed his cheeks. It
looked so very good on him.
“It’s, um, too soon to talk about that,” Perry said, gathering Caleb into his arms.
“But you and York, you’re boyfriends forever.” Caleb looked at them in earnest.
“It’s only been a month since we met,” Perry said, his heart thudding. York had heard
everything Caleb said.
“Grown-ups need time to decide on these things, kiddo,” York added, tapping Caleb on
the forehead. “And sometimes it’s okay to be boyfriends forever. Marriage isn’t the
biggest thing in life.”
But wasn’t that what York wanted? At a loss for an answer, Perry shut the front door,
turning back to his son. Caleb’s hair was damp, and he smelled like soap. “Did you
have a bath when you got home?”
“Uh-huh. York helped.” Caleb waved his arms. “We played duckies and ships! Bam
bam bam!”
“He wanted to sink his rubber ducks with the battleships,” York said dryly. “I tried to
help, but the ducks are invincible. We’re on Team Duck now.”
“Are you on Team Ducks too, Daddy?” Caleb asked.
“Ducks are good. I like ducks.” Perry grinned, kissing Caleb on the forehead. “Did you
give York any trouble?”
“Nah. Like I said, he’s a good kid.” York grinned, ruffling Caleb’s hair. “Lenna, though.
She doesn’t like to share her things. And she wants all of Caleb’s toys, too.”
Caleb looked at Lenna, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted her around.
Perry laughed. “I remember Caleb at that age. He was... very demanding.”
“You must’ve been a god of patience.” York grinned. “Seriously. And if you wanna
watch them, I’ll start on dinner.”
“It’s fine. I’ll do dinner.” Perry released Caleb and set his things in the study,
swallowing when the plug shifted inside him. York paused at the doorway of the dim
room, a broad, strong shadow. Perry’s heart skipped a beat.
“How was your day?” York murmured, stepping forward to pull Perry into a hug. He
smelled like hickory and soap, the heavy smoke and ash scents reduced to a faint whiff.
“Distracting.” Perry burrowed into York’s embrace. He knew he should try to distance
himself, but... York felt so safe. “I did not forget my lines during the lectures. I almost
did.”
York laughed. “Because of my little present?”
Perry’s face grew hot. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It—It feels like you left a
promise inside me.”
York growled, pressing Perry against the wall. Lenna said something in his other arm;
York paid her no mind. Instead, he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned over
Perry’s lips, and gave him a slow, toe-curling kiss.
“Welcome home,” York murmured.
Gods, with a welcome like that... It was all Perry could do to stay upright. Deep down,
he knew he’d give anything to have York welcome him home like this, every day.
Except Perry didn’t have enough to pay that price.
“Wh-What about your day?” he asked, breathless.

“Lonely without you.” York nuzzled him, stealing another kiss. “I went and picked
Lenna up since the apartment was so damn quiet.”
“I thought you would have preferred to play Frog Island instead.”
“Not distracting enough.” York grinned. “‘Sides, I figured I might as well get Lenna
settled in—Well. I moved her things here, too. If you mind having her around, I’ll move
back downstairs...”
Perry’s stomach twisted. “No, no. You don’t have to. I don’t mind at all.”
“Yeah?” York grinned. “You wanna play House with the two of us, and two kids? For a
weekend?”
Perry’s heart fluttered. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that York mentioned
it... “Maybe.”
“Good enough.” York’s gaze softened. He pressed another kiss to Perry’s lips, then
slipped his arm around Perry’s waist, tugging him into the living room. “I have a better
idea. What about I babysit the kids in the kitchen while you cook? Then we wouldn’t
even have to be in different rooms.”
“That sounds brilliant.” Mostly because Perry couldn’t have enough of York.
Thirty Days, he told himself. I should try harder. Then York kissed down his neck, and
those thoughts fled from his mind.
“You covered up my hickeys.” York rubbed his thumb down Perry’s neck. “No wonder
you didn’t look right earlier.”
Perry laughed. “What, do I only look right with your markings on me?”
York growled. He released a squirming Lenna onto the floor, then backed Perry up
against the living room wall, nuzzling down Perry’s neck. “Yeah. I want all my
markings on you.”
Were it any other alpha, Perry would’ve thought about bruises and injuries. But with
York, he remembered wet, sucking kisses down his neck, York pounding into him,
filling him with so much pleasure that he couldn’t breathe.
“What other markings?” Perry whispered, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
“My bites. Here.” York caught Perry’s wrists, rubbing the scent glands there. He meant
bonding marks. The permanent ones. “And here.” He rubbed the scent gland on Perry’s
neck.
Perry flushed hot and cold all over.
“And I want my hickeys down your thighs, I want my teeth marks on your shoulders,
on your ass. I want you wearing my come and my scent. I want your belly round with
my baby.” York rumbled, licking his lips. “All mine.”
Perry’s throat grew dry, his body singing for his alpha. “L-Let me see to dinner first,”
he gasped, his heart pounding too hard. “Otherwise we’ll all starve.”
York grinned, his gaze dark. “Yeah. Probably should do that first. Then we’ll have
honey for dessert. You know, adults-only.”
“Gods, you still remember that.”
“Can’t look at honey now without remembering you sucking it off my cock,” York
murmured, too quietly for the children to hear. Then he tugged Perry into the kitchen.
“Hey, Caleb. Lenna! C’mon, kitchen time.”
His knees weak, Perry pulled out the ingredients for spaghetti with mushroom alfredo
sauce.
“With bacon?” York grinned. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”
Perry’s entire head burned. He still wasn’t used to being York’s boyfriend. “Caleb loves
bacon, so I figured...”
“Whad’ya know? I love bacon, too.” York grinned at Caleb. “You think? Is that good
enough for me to be your alpha dad?”
Caleb nodded, throwing his hands in the air. “Bacon is the best!”
Perry groaned, exasperated. “Oh, gods. See what you’re doing, York?”
York grinned. “All I see is us becoming a family.” He raised his eyebrows, looking a
smidge uncertain. “You think?”
“Maybe.” Perry’s heart thumped. All of them being a family... That was the stuff of his
dreams. “Don’t commit unless you’re ready, though. I don’t want you disappointing
Caleb.”
York pulled Lenna onto his lap, looking thoughtful. He didn’t say anything for a while,
so Perry turned back to slicing mushrooms, afraid of hearing York’s decision.
He transferred the mushrooms into a frying pan, then lay out some rashers of bacon in
the oven to bake. Soon enough, the smoky scent of bacon filled the kitchen, making
Perry’s mouth water.
“I’m hungry,” Caleb said.
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Perry answered, setting a pot of water to boil.
“Lenna’s okay with pasta, right? I realize I should have asked earlier.”
York laughed, a rich, warm sound. “That’s her favorite food. You’ll definitely get on her
good side with spag, Prince.”
Perry’s pulse skipped. “Do you... help your dad with raising her?”
“Sometimes.” York shrugged and smiled. “Dad doesn’t need me as much these days.
He’s got his own alphas. Kai isn’t around half the year, so that’s when I help with
Lenna. Or when the three of them just want some alone time. I gotta say, it’s weird
having a two-year-old sister.”
Perry smiled back, remembering Micah’s wedding. It had been beautiful. At that point,
he’d envied how happy York’s dad had looked, despite his scars and bad leg, and the
alphas with him.
Back then, Perry had wondered what it was like to knowingly tie his future to an alpha.
To someone who had all the power over him. He’d shuddered at the thought.
Right now... He wasn’t sure. Would he ever agree to marry York? To make this
permanent? The uncertainty was enough to set his heart racing.
“C’mon, Lenna,” York murmured. He’d set a blank piece of paper and some crayons on
the kitchen table. “Draw a house?”
Lenna grabbed a crayon by the wrong end, drawing a mess of squiggly lines all over the
page. York laughed.
“I wanna draw a house!” Caleb said, bouncing in his seat. York handed him a blank
sheet, too. Caleb grabbed a red crayon for the roof. Then he filled in the walls and
windows, and drew two curved protrusions up the sides of the roof.
“What’s that?” York asked.
“Like a castle!” Caleb gestured in the air. “With pointy things!”
“You mean a castle-house?” York looked impressed. “That’s pretty neat.” Then he
turned to Perry and raised his eyebrows. “So, you want a castle-house, too?”
“You mean, to live in?”
“You’re a prince, right?” York grinned. “Of course you deserve a castle-house.”
“I’m not that sort of prince,” Perry mumbled, his cheeks heating. “It sounds too
expensive for me.”
“But what if you were married to a king? Would you?” York leaned back in his chair,
waiting for Perry’s answer. Perry’s voice stuck in his throat.
“Are you saying... you’re a king?” Perry finally asked. Because there wasn’t anyone else
he’d even think about marrying. He dropped a handful of spaghetti into boiling water,
and tried not to squirm under York’s gaze.
“I don’t know. Am I fit for a prince?”
“You are,” Perry croaked. “More than, even.”
“Naw. You’re making me sound too good to be true.”
“That’s because you are.”
York’s gaze darkened. “We’ll continue this conversation later,” he murmured. To Caleb,
York said, “But you gotta have people living in your castle-house, right? Who’s living
there?”
“Me and Daddy!” Caleb added stick figures to his house. When he’d completed two, he
looked up at York. “Are you gonna live with us, too?”
“Sure,” York said.
“What about Lenna?” Caleb asked.
“If you want her around, sure. We’ll be one big, happy family.”
Caleb added more stick figures, then scribbled on the page.
“You spelled your name,” York said, impressed. “Great work, kid.”
“I know how to spell Daddy’s name, too!” Caleb wriggled. He scribbled above the
second stick figure; Perry couldn’t help wandering over to see what he wrote.
Caleb had written Caleb over the drawing of himself, and Dady over the drawing of
Perry. Perry bit down a tearful smile. There were two more stick figures on the page,
that didn’t have names.
“This one’s you,” Caleb told York. “And this is Lenna.”
“We might have one more coming,” York said, meeting Perry’s eyes. Then he glanced at
Perry’s abdomen, and Perry’s heart squeezed.
“It’s too soon,” Perry mumbled. “It’s just been a month.”
Caleb looked confusedly at them.
“What do you say to a new brother or sister, Caleb?” York asked. “Wanna help protect
them?”
Caleb nodded eagerly. “Yes!”
Perry laughed. “That’s how you convince him, huh?”
York grinned. “Caleb seems like he might present as alpha. Gotta start them young, I
think.”
“You sure know a lot about raising children.”
York rubbed his head sheepishly. “Not enough. Not like you, anyway.”
Then he looked uncertainly at Perry, and glanced away. “Not sure I’ll ever be as good a
dad as you are.”
Perry blushed. “Of course you’ll be. Lenna likes you a lot, doesn’t she?”
“But she’s just my kid sister. Not a daughter.”
“You could—” Perry’s breath hitched “—I guess you could practice with Caleb.” And
then he wanted to hit himself for slipping up that badly. Thirty Days, Perry!
“Thanks.” York slanted a warm look at him, reaching out to tangle their fingers. Then
he rotated Caleb’s drawing to look at it, and whistled. “This looks really great, Captain
Caleb! Think you could draw another for me? Your dad’s gonna frame this up on the
wall.”
Caleb glowed with pride. Perry’s heart swelled. York was already getting along so well
with their son. Was he really worried about being a dad?
“You said you made a card for your dad,” York told Caleb. “Are you gonna show it to
him? Make him smile—your dad needs all the smiles in the world.”
“Yeah!” Caleb leaped off his chair. He raced out of the kitchen, and York grinned after
him in a proud parent sort of way.
As though he was already that fond of Caleb, and wanted the best for their child.
Perry’s heart thumped.
“He’s a great kid,” York said, meeting Perry’s eyes. “You did good.”
York really liked Caleb. He wanted the best for their son. More than anything, that hit a
nerve deep in Perry, one that pulled his lungs tight.
Perry’s entire world crumbled then—or maybe it was just his heart falling, taking
everything with it. “You...”
Since he’d discovered it, he’d been burying his feelings for York. But those feelings
surfaced again, and Perry couldn’t look anywhere else, save for the alpha in front of
him. I really love him, Perry thought. I can’t do this.
“Perry?” York asked, his forehead crinkling.
“I’m fine,” Perry said breathlessly, tugging his hand out of York’s. “I’m burning
dinner.”
“That’s not why you panicked.”
No, it wasn’t. But as Caleb raced back into the kitchen, and as he proudly presented his
Happy Family card to Perry, Perry knew he needed to hide that truth from York, too. So
York didn’t get it into his head that they had a future together.
“Great work with the card, hon,” Perry told Caleb, his heart pounding when York stood
and stepped toward them. “I love this. Why don’t you set this on my nightstand? I’ll
hang it up with your castle-house drawing.”
And then he regretted that, too, because Caleb raced out of the kitchen, leaving him and
York alone.
Y ORK CLOSED the distance between himself and Perry, pulling his omega close.
“Something scared you.”
Perry froze, his chest heaving. “You—can tell?”
York snorted, nuzzling Perry’s ear. “I haven’t just known you for a month, Prince. I’ve
known you for years. The past few days have just been me piecing everything together.
You run when you’re scared.”
Perry winced and pulled the hot pans off the burners. “I—I guess.”
“What scared you this time?” York studied Perry, holding him close. So Perry couldn’t
flee from him. “Was it something I said?”
Perry shook his head vigorously. “No, no. It’s just me. I’m...um.”
“Aside from alphas, you don’t get scared that easily, you know,” York murmured.
“You’ve given birth to Caleb, and that had to have hurt like hell. Were you scared when
you went into labor?”
“Kind of.” Perry bit his lip. “Mostly, I just hurt.”
“Did you have anyone with you?”
Perry shook his head. Fuck. Of course he hadn’t asked any alphas along.
“But what about your omega friends?” York frowned. “You’re friends with some profs
at the college.”
“Not enough for them to spend ten hours with me.” Perry winced. “It would have been
awkward. I was fine, York. I knew what I was getting into.”
So Perry had been in pain by himself for hours, and York hadn’t been there. York closed
his eyes, his heart aching. “You should’ve asked me,” he murmured. “I would’ve gone.
You know that.”
Perry gulped. “Precisely why I shouldn’t. You were barely nineteen then.”
“I don’t care. I’ll love you however old I am.”

Perry turned pink. Again. York had told him I love you a few times, now, and they’d
fucked, they’d shared the same bed, the same clothes. And Perry was still flustered by
those words. Had no one said them to him before?
“This isn’t gonna change, you know,” York murmured. He took Perry’s hand, pressing
it over his heart. “I loved you as FrogPrince, and I’ll love you as Perry Larkin.”
Perry trembled, looking away. “You shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well.” York pinned Perry against the kitchen counter, dropping kisses all over
his face. He slid his palm down Perry’s abdomen. “We’re having a baby together. I’m
not gonna be leaving anytime soon.”
Perry tipped his head back, looking disbelievingly at York.
“You’re perfect to me,” York whispered. “I want you to believe that. I want you to not
be afraid of alphas. Of me.”
“I don’t know how that’s possible,” Perry whispered back. “I’m—”
“—Broken, you’ve said. Yeah.” York kissed him deeply, nudging Perry’s mouth open,
sliding his tongue inside. Perry tasted like half-cooked pasta and alfredo sauce, and he
writhed against York like he needed to be pinned down and ravished. “Maybe we can
put you back together again.”
Perry groaned against him. “How?”
“Slowly.” York slid his wrists down Perry’s sides. “I want you to learn that you can do
anything with me, and that you won’t have to be afraid of me acting up.”
Perry tensed, looking away. “I’m—not sure we should do that.”
York caught Perry’s chin, tipping Perry’s gaze up to meet his. “What aren’t you telling
me?”
Perry squirmed. “It’s not—not important.”
“Then you’d have told me already.”
Perry bit his lip, looking so uneasy that York shoved his curiosity away. “It’s fine,” York
whispered, brushing his fingers through Perry’s hair. “Keep it. It doesn’t matter to me,
anyway.”
Perry looked like he wanted to say more, except his unease also grew. And a hint of
doubt wriggled into York’s chest. What’s so bad that you can’t tell me any of it? It’s nothing
horrible, is it?
York swept it aside. It wasn’t important right now. “C’mon, let’s have dinner first. Then
we’ll put the kids to bed, and I’ll keep my end of my promise.”
“But...” Perry still looked worried.
To help him forget, York slipped his hands down Perry’s ass, squeezing his firm cheeks.
Gods, Perry felt good. York wanted to open him up, make him writhe. He growled,
slipping his fingers lower, finding the hard circle of the plug behind Perry’s clothes. It
was still wedged against Perry’s hole, keeping him open. York growled, pushing the
plug deeper into his omega, just enough that it moved.
Perry gasped and clutched at him, his pupils dilating.
“Yeah, that’s it,” York murmured, sliding his palm down the front of Perry’s pants,
stroking his growing cock through the fabric. “Gonna make you feel good tonight. You
brought that prototype home?”
Perry nodded and whimpered, his uncertainty forgotten. Aside from his secret, Perry
was still the same. Still needy, still human. Still York’s.
York smiled, tracing his wrist along Perry’s jaw, leaving his scent on his omega.
“Dinner first,” York whispered. “Pasta, remember?”
Perry blinked and glanced back at the stove, his cheeks turning pink. “Oh, damn it!”
York couldn’t help his grin. Felt good, knowing he could distract Perry that much.
“I’m hungry!” Caleb announced as he raced back into the kitchen. “Is it ready yet?”
Perry winced, wriggling out of York’s arms so he could get dinner going again. “It’ll be
ready as soon as I finish this,” he told Caleb.
“Okay.” Caleb climbed back onto his chair.
Like his dad, Caleb was pretty adorable, actually. He didn’t throw tantrums so much,
and maybe... he wasn’t so bad to have around. Over the weeks York had known him,
Caleb had been pretty friendly with York. Like he wouldn’t mind if York were in his life
more often.
“What if I adopted him?” York asked, glancing at the boy. Just to get a feel for what
Perry thought.
Except the blood drained from Perry’s face. “I-I don’t know,” he said, uneasy again. Did
Perry get jittery when he thought an alpha might take Caleb away?
“You know he’ll always be yours, first and foremost.”

Perry didn’t seem convinced.
“Okay, I won’t,” York said to calm Perry down. Maybe it was better that York didn’t
adopt Caleb. Although if the chance ever presented itself... York decided he wouldn’t
say no. So he could extend his protection to Caleb, too. And hopefully things would
work out and he wouldn’t disappoint Perry.
Dinner passed slowly—mostly because York wanted Perry in his bed. Caleb ate his
spaghetti with delight. Lenna stuffed those pale yellow strands into her mouth, and
Perry did his best to make sure Lenna had enough food on her plate, too.
“You worry about her too much,” York teased, running his foot up Perry’s calf. “She’ll
be fine.”
Perry glanced up, almost shy. “I want to make sure she’s properly fed.”
“Are you like this with all children, or only family?” York asked.
Perry stared. Then he blushed. Yeah, York had grouped Lenna under Perry’s extended
family, just to see his reaction. And it was such a sweet one, too, Perry all flustered like
that. It made York want to pin him down, kiss him until he squirmed and grew hard.
“You have that look on your face again,” Perry mumbled, poking at the meatballs on
his plate.
“What look?” York grinned.
“The one where you look like you’re going to eat me whole.”
York licked his lips. “Every inch, yeah. Slurped and tasted.”
Perry choked, his face turning beet-red.
“Are you gonna eat, or do I have to feed you those balls?”
“York!” Perry spluttered, glancing at Caleb and Lenna. “The children—”
“—Are eating their meatballs,” York said, pretending to look innocent. “At least, Caleb
is.”
“I like meatballs,” Caleb said around a mouthful of food.
“Swallow first, hon.” Perry blushed harder.
“You sure like swallowing,” York murmured, skimming his toes between Perry’s knees.
Perry squirmed, checking Caleb to see if his son had noticed. “York!”
“I’m not York.” Caleb looked owlishly at Perry. “Why are you looking at me?”
Perry groaned into his hands.
York finished the last bite of his spaghetti, licking the cheesy, savory sauce off his fork.
“Dinner’s delicious. Wanna show you every... inch of how much I appreciate it. Can’t
wait.”
Perry looked at the food still on Caleb and Lenna’s plates, and sagged. “This is torture.”
“You say that now.” York grinned. “But perhaps you don’t know what torture really
is?” He let his voice dip low, bedroom-low, until there was no doubt what torment he
had in mind.
With a whimper, Perry hid his face. York smirked. He stood to clear the dishes—to
wash the pans, really—except Perry’s gaze dropped to his hips. And then locked there.
“That’s... not family-safe,” Perry croaked, staring at York’s too-tight shorts, and the line
of his half-hard cock. York flexed his cock so it shifted behind the fabric, smooth cotton
sliding against his sensitive skin. Felt good.
Caleb looked, too. “It’s the snake! It’s back!”
York swore, turning abruptly to the sink. He hadn’t counted on Caleb being nosy.
“Nah. I just got a stick in my pants. Need to throw it out.”
“Like playing Fetch?” Caleb asked brightly.
“Maybe your dad might get his mouth around it,” York said under his breath.
“This just keeps getting worse,” Perry mumbled. “Here, Caleb, tell me about the
different snakes on the chart. You know them all, don’t you?”
Perry pointed at the poster taped to the side of the fridge. York glanced at it, snorting.
“You’ve had that chart for a while?”
“More than a month, yes,” Perry said dryly. “Caleb likes snakes. We’ve agreed on
having no pet snakes until he’s older. He didn’t just, you know, talk about snakes that
other day for no reason.”
Yeah, York had been too tickled by his ‘snake’ to forget that.
“I like the viper,” Caleb said, pinching his thumb and fingers together to mimic the
shape of a snake’s head. “Viper’s poisonous! And the—the boa constricterer!”
“Boa constrictor,” Perry said. “What about the anaconda? That’s the world’s biggest
snake, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh,” Caleb said. Then he looked back at York. “But which snake got into your
pants?”
Perry made a soft, strangled sound, like he might die of embarrassment.
York coughed. “Manaconda?”
Caleb gasped. “That’s a big one!”
“York,” Perry whined, burying his face in his hands. “No.”
“You think?” York asked his omega. “You’d have the best idea.”
“Probably the anaconda,” Perry mumbled.
“I’m flattered, but it’s not that big.”
Perry glanced at York’s hips. Quietly, he murmured, “I beg to differ.”
Yeah? Maybe it felt really big inside him. York couldn’t help the pride swelling in his
chest. “Guess we’ll have to take some measurements later,” he said, discreetly adjusting
his cock so it didn’t jut out so much.
Perry cleared his throat, his ears pink. “Why don’t we go to the zoo this weekend?” he
asked Caleb. “There’s lots of animals to look at! I hear there’s also new baby animals in
the children’s zoo. And some of the chicks might be hatching!”
Caleb cheered, York’s trouser snake forgotten. York breathed a sigh of relief. Perry
glanced at him sidelong, his cheeks still pink.
So York did the dishes. Perry brought his plate over, and York cupped his face, pulling
him into another kiss. He slid into Perry’s mouth, claiming him thoroughly, until Perry
whimpered, musk coiling off his skin.
“I’ve been wanting you since before dinner,” York murmured, stroking Perry’s throat.
“How long until Caleb goes to bed?”
“Maybe an hour.” Perry sighed, squirming. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea for you to
stay here. I feel ready to implode.”
“But you haven’t imploded yet.” York smiled. Out of the children’s sight, he traced his
fingertip down Perry’s chest, to his belly, then down the front of his pants, over Perry’s
covered cock. Perry sucked in a shuddering breath. “Maybe you need to... release some
steam?”
York cupped Perry between the legs, growling when Perry’s cock swelled eagerly
against his palm. Perry rolled his hips, his pupils blowing wide. “Please,” Perry begged.
And York pulled his hand away. “Nah,” he murmured, watching as dismay filled
Perry’s face. “You get a choice: Either you swap out the plug for a bigger one, or you
pull on some lace panties. But no coming.”
“But—”
“My cock,” York whispered, dragging his wrist down Perry’s growing bulge. “No
coming until I say so. Yes?”
Perry gulped. Then, as though it pained him to say it, he croaked, “Okay.”
“Good.” York traced his scent down Perry’s jaw, his own pulse throbbing between his
legs. “I’ll make you scream real soon. I promise.”
Perry trembled, a dark, yearning promise in his eyes. York’s instincts roared.
B Y THE TIME the children fell asleep, York’s cock had begun to ache. Perry closed the
door to the children’s room; York all but hauled him into the bedroom. Shut the door.
Unbuckled Perry’s belt, then yanked his clothes down, revealing Perry’s cock, his soft
balls.
York circled his fingers around those sensitive parts, squeezing hard enough that Perry
clutched at his arms, his spine arching.
“York,” Perry gasped, his cock thickening against York’s palm.
“Mine,” York growled. He pinned Perry against the bedroom door, kneading Perry’s
cock until it jutted up at him, his sensitive head shoving out past his foreskin. “Always
so ready for me.”
Perry whimpered, bucking his hips. “You’ve been teasing me all day.”
“Yeah?” And York released Perry’s cock, letting Perry’s sac drag down his fingers,
velvety and warm. He patted it, knowing that the impact sent bolts of sensation
through Perry’s body.
Perry arched again, his chest heaving, a flush spreading down his throat.
“Damn,” York whispered, his throat growing dry. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“York,” Perry panted, squeezing his arm. “Please. You said you’d—”
Perry stopped abruptly, his cheeks turning pink. York couldn’t help smiling. “I said...
what? Tell me, Prince.”
Perry groaned, covering his face. “You said you’d... make me scream.”
“You’ve been thinking about that?” York kneaded Perry’s delicate balls, savoring the
way Perry trembled. “How did you imagine me making you scream?”
“A-All the ways.” Perry’s blush deepened.
“Tell me.”
“Y-You bending me over. Or—Or forcing my legs open. And plunging inside. Or your
mouth—” Perry groaned, his cock jerking, clear precome beading at his tip.
“My mouth...?”
“All over me,” Perry whispered raggedly, moaning when York stroked up his cock,
squeezing his hooded tip. “S-sucking my cock.”
“Here?” York caressed Perry’s tip, coaxing more precome to ooze out.
Perry flushed, but his hips bucked, his cock shoving hungrily against York’s fingers.
“Yes!”
Yeah, and now York needed Perry’s cock in his mouth, stat.
He dropped to his knees, circling Perry’s cock with his fist. Ever so lightly, York
dragged his fist up Perry’s cock, then away, leaving him bare and straining, Perry’s
nails digging through York’s shirt into his shoulders. “Now?” York whispered, blowing
lightly onto his omega’s cock.
Perry writhed, rolling his hips forward, rubbing his tip against York’s lips—the most
desperate he’d been. Fuck. So York dragged his tongue up Perry’s length, tasting the
hint of musk and salt, all the way up to his hooded tip. “You love this,” York
murmured.
“Please,” Perry groaned, his slippery head nudging against York’s lips.
York kissed the opening of Perry’s foreskin, tasting him. Then he worked his tongue
under Perry’s skin, so it clung around him snugly, holding York’s tongue against the
bundle of nerves at his tip. So fucking hot. Perry groaned. And York withdrew his
touch.
“Gonna have to push your way in if you want more.” York grinned. “Fuck me, Perry.”
Perry whimpered. “You can’t be serious.”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” York gave Perry’s tip a chaste kiss, and leaned back. “C’mon.”
With his face stained red, Perry grasped his cock, pushing his blunt tip against York’s
lips. It felt like a kiss. Then there was pressure, Perry’s tip opening York’s lips, and it
was inside his mouth, big and hungry. Perry groaned above him, his hips rocking, his
cock shoving deeper into York’s mouth.
It was exhilarating, seeing Perry this ravenous for him. So York sucked, low and hard.
Perry’s legs gave out. York caught him. Held Perry against the door, then took Perry’s
entire cock into his mouth. Perry cried out, tangling his fingers in York’s hair. With each
suck, Perry bucked against York’s tongue, his chest heaving, his balls growing tight. “I-I
can’t—”
“Lemme taste you,” York said around Perry’s cock, his words coming out muffled.
Then he pushed his hand between Perry’s legs, his fingers bumping against the hard,
flat surface of the glass plug. York throbbed, just imagining that thing still inside Perry.
Except it felt different. Wider, almost. Bigger. Had Perry really gone and switched out
the plug after dinner? York wrapped his fingertips around the plug and pulled lightly
on it. Then he pushed it back inside, and Perry arched above him, yanking hard on
York’s hair as he came.
Bitter warmth filled York’s mouth; Perry pulsed against his tongue, incoherent sounds
falling from his lips. York sucked every drop down, growling. He’d made his omega
come. And this was only the start of it.
He pulled off, licking the whitish droplets clinging to Perry’s tip. “You gonna listen to
me now?”
Perry leaned bonelessly against the door, looking just a little debauched. “Listen?”
“Yeah.” York stood, palming his cock through his shorts. Didn’t want to distract Perry
with it yet, but damn if he didn’t need some release, feeling his omega come so hard.
“You trust me completely in the bedroom.”
Perry nodded, brushing his fingers through York’s hair.
“So you’ll believe me when I say you’re perfect.” York dropped kisses up Perry’s body,
from the jut of his hipbones, to his abdomen, his chest, and his clavicles. “And you’ll—I
hope you’ll believe me when I swear I will never, ever hurt you.”
Perry shivered, watching York. “But how can you be sure?”
“Sure about?”
“That you’ll never hurt me.”
The thought that Perry would automatically assume York would hurt him... that was
terrible. And heart-breaking.
“Because that’s not something everyone does. That’s only what complete bastards do.”
York gathered Perry in his arms, trying not to grind into Perry’s thigh. “Alphas don’t
naturally want to hurt people. It’s just that you’ve been with a crazy number of those
who do. Like, I could introduce you to all the other alphas at the station. Pretty sure
they’re all good guys.”
“You would?” Perry looked disbelieving.

“Maybe. Except I want to keep you for myself.” York stroked down Perry’s back,
grinding lightly against Perry’s hip. Couldn’t help himself. Pleasure hummed down his
nerves like a promise.
Perry looked uncertain, even as his eyes darkened at York’s touch. “So... you wouldn’t
hurt me. Even if you get angry with me.”
“Even if I get angry with you,” York said, tipping Perry’s face up to seal their lips in a
kiss. “I promise.”
“That seems hard to believe.”
“It’s true.”
Perry trembled against him. Then he met York’s lips with his own, full and soft, and
York’s instincts took over. He pressed Perry against the door, grinding his cock against
Perry, smoothing his wrists all over Perry’s chest and sides. Marking Perry with his
scent.
“You’re—too good to be true,” Perry gasped, stroking down York’s chest. He groaned
when he squeezed York’s pecs, following York’s chest down to his abs.
“I’m just me,” York growled, catching Perry’s hand. He brought Perry’s palm down
between his legs, grinding his covered cock against Perry’s soft palm. But the touch was
muted; York shoved down his shorts, letting his cock spring up, straining hungrily
toward his omega.
Perry moaned, stroking his hands down York’s bare cock. Pleasure hissed through
York’s body. “You really are big.”
That made York swell even bigger. “Yeah? You like my snake?”
Perry flushed a bright pink. “Not that again.” But he squeezed York’s cock, licking his
lips. “I can’t believe you—you played along. Manaconda, really?”
York grinned, closing his hand around Perry’s fingers to hold him there. Then he thrust
up into the circle of Perry’s fist, rumbling when Perry gasped, his eyelids fluttering
shut. “You tell me if it’s a manaconda,” York whispered. “Big enough for you?”
“Plenty,” Perry wheezed. He tightened his grip around York; York groaned, riding the
wave of pleasure that Perry stroked into his body.
“This is what you feel like around me,” York growled, squeezing around Perry’s hand,
thrusting into the tight tunnel of their grip. “Your body feels like a dream.”
Perry whimpered, his musk flooding between them. York glanced down; Perry’s cock
was starting to fill out again. He liked having York claim him. He liked being York’s.
York grew harder, so hard that it hurt.
“Need to get inside you,” he rasped. “That plug’s been holding my spot for long
enough.”
“You didn’t even notice the lace.” Perry pouted, reaching into his pants to pluck at a
scrap of black material. “You told me to put nice undies on, York, and you ripped them
right off.”
York growled, leaning closer, reaching into Perry’s pants to finger the lace. “I want to
rip all your clothes off. But maybe keep the lace on.”
Perry groaned, pulling the lace panties back around his hips. The material stretched
snug around his balls and his half-hard cock, and it felt like a plea. Please fuck me.
Hell yeah, York would fuck him. He ripped Perry’s shirt apart, buttons bouncing off the
walls. Perry yelped.
“I’ll get you another,” York growled, and flung the shirt aside. Then he grabbed Perry’s
pants and shoved them down his legs, until all that Perry had left was that scrap of
black lace, stark against his pale skin. And that plug inside his ass.
York throbbed, turning Perry around. The lace clung sweetly to his ass, wrapping him
up like a gift. York grasped Perry’s cheeks, humming at the roughness of the lace,
rubbing it into Perry’s skin. “All mine.”
“Yours,” Perry breathed, angling his hips up—an invitation that made the rest of York’s
blood swoop between his legs.
“Present for me,” York rasped, his lungs so tight he couldn’t breathe.
Perry reached back, slipped his fingers under the lace, and grasped his cheeks,
spreading them. And there, outlined against the lace, was a plug’s flared base—a
transparent one this time, stretching Perry wider, prepping him for York.
“Fuck,” York hissed, grabbing Perry’s hips, fitting his cock against the plug. Then he
slipped his cock up the leg of Perry’s panties, and pushed it between Perry’s bare
cheeks, rutting against his smooth skin. Perry groaned, rubbing himself against York,
the plug bumping against York’s cock.
If that plug weren’t there, York would’ve fucked right into him, opened him up. Made
Perry arch and scream.
Instead, York slid his arms around Perry—one across his chest, the other going between
his legs—and hefted him up, striding the few steps across the room to throw him onto
the bed.
Perry bounced and scrambled up onto all fours, spreading his thighs, pushing his ass
up into the air. “Please,” Perry croaked, parting his legs further. “York, please.”
York’s cock fucking hurt, with how much he needed to slam into his omega. He
shrugged out of his clothes, climbing onto the bed. Perry watched over his shoulder, his
pupils blown, his tongue darting over his lips.
“Like what you see?” York growled.
“Yes,” Perry whimpered, his half-hard cock stretching the lace.
York reached between Perry’s legs, roughly grasping his cock, squeezing it so Perry
cried out, grinding into his hand. “Want something?”
“Please.” Perry’s voice broke. “York, please. Stop teasing.”
“I told you this would be torture.” York grinned. He grasped Perry’s cock, angling it
down the leg of the panties so it strained by itself, bare and needy. Then he took Perry’s
ankles, dropping kisses up his foot, his calf, to the back of his legs. York squeezed
Perry’s thigh and closed his mouth around it, sucking a hard, bruising kiss into his skin.
Perry gasped and squirmed. York kissed his skin, sucking on him until he was sure the
capillaries had broken. That would be a hickey in a few hours. “I’m marking you,” he
murmured. Then he kissed Perry’s bare cock, just a light touch, and moved to Perry’s
other leg, sucking a kiss into his thigh, a matching lovebite. “Mine.”
Perry groaned. But he spread his legs further, his cock hard now, a clear droplet
hanging from his tip. “York—”
York kissed the precome off his cock and returned to the first hickey, sucking another
mark into Perry’s skin. Perry writhed, his legs trembling with every sucking kiss, every
little touch that York granted his cock between the kisses.
“York,” Perry whined.
Over and over, York sucked kisses into Perry’s thighs, until there were roughly ten in
total, and Perry had pressed his face into the mattress, his chest heaving, his cock
flushed a dark red. This time tomorrow... Perry would have a constellation of York’s
marks on him. To show who he belonged to. York’s chest swelled.
“They call these lovebites for a reason,” he growled. He pressed a kiss to each pink spot,
and murmured, “I love you.”
“Don’t,” Perry mumbled, not looking at him.
“Just saying.” York rubbed the pink spots on Perry’s thighs, then pumped his own cock,
finally satisfied. “Pull aside the lace. Show me your hole.”
Perry swore, his hands shaking. But he reached behind, caught the fabric of his panties,
and pulled it up over the base of his plug.
The plug was clear, colorless, dark where it provided a peek inside Perry. York
throbbed. He closed his fingers around the base of the plug, and tugged lightly. Perry’s
body held on hungrily to the toy.
“Don’t wanna give it up?” York murmured, kneading Perry’s cheeks, rubbing around
his hole. Perry gasped and shook, his musk thickening.
“Please take it,” Perry whimpered, his hole squeezing around the plug. “York, please.”
If York had still been wearing his shorts, he would’ve split them. He pulled slowly on
the plug, watching as Perry’s body slowly stretched, until it opened around the widest
point of the toy. Then the rest of the plug followed, leaving Perry’s hole relaxed and
open, ready for his alpha.
“Fuck,” York breathed, his balls pulling up tight. “Ready for my cock?”
Perry moaned, presenting wordlessly for him.
York grasped the plug in his fist, wiping the slick from it onto his cock. Then he dipped
three fingers into Perry’s warm hole, and slipped his arm around his omega, pulling
him upright.
“Need some slick,” York murmured. “Straighten up for a bit. Let it drip out.”
Perry made a choked, wordless noise. And slick flowed out of him—so much of it, from
the whole time York had been teasing him.
York swore, slick spilling down the side of his palm. He bent Perry back over to save
the rest of his wetness, and lubed up his own cock liberally. So it would fit inside his
omega all at once. “Ready to take some measurements? Of my snake.”
Perry laughed breathlessly, then groaned when York fitted his blunt tip against Perry’s
hole. “Y-York,” he panted, pushing back against York, his cock stiff when York reached
around to squeeze it. “Please.” Perry’s voice broke.
It yanked at an instinct in York; his hips snapped, and his cock plunged inside his
omega, stretching open his hot, tight hole. Perry cried out raggedly. York grasped
Perry’s shoulder and pulled him the rest of the way down, and Perry was slick around
him, so fucking tight that York anchored him close and pulled out halfway, thrusting
back inside.
Perry cried out, his chest heaving, his musk flooding York’s lungs. “York, York—”
“Like it?” York hissed, slamming back inside, every single inch he could fit into his
omega. Bliss soaked his cock.
“Fuck,” Perry whined, bouncing with the force of York’s thrusts. “More.”
And that broke every last shard of control York possessed. He held Perry down and
bucked his hips, his cock stretching Perry all the way, filling him. Perry writhed, drunk
on York’s presence, his nails biting into York’s skin, pricks of pain that only added to
York’s pleasure.
York tried to aim for Perry’s prostate, he really did. Except his omega squeezed hard,
and pleasure crashed through York, ripping every last thought from his mind. He
unloaded his seed into Perry, great pulses of it that went on forever.
When he could think again, York found Perry fucking himself on York’s cock, moaning
softly.
“Damn it,” York growled, disappointed in himself. “Wanted to last longer. Fuck.”
Because Perry still hadn’t come yet, and now York would knot inside him.
“I have something,” Perry whispered. “It’s fine.”
Perry slipped away from beneath York, leaving York bereft. Felt terrible being without
his omega. Except Perry rummaged around in his nightstand drawer, and returned
with a colorless, condom-looking thing, with looser folds of silicone around its base,
and what looked like part of a white fishnet stocking embedded in those silicone folds.
That prototype vibrator.
“It kind of works,” Perry murmured, rubbing both sides of the sleeve together to spread
some lube around inside. Then he slipped it around York, and it wrapped tight around
him, sending jolts of pleasure down his oversensitive cock. York hissed.
“Sorry.” Perry paused in concern.
York grabbed the sleeve and shoved his cock the rest of the way in. “Feels good.
Though it’s kinda small.”
Perry cracked a smile. “You’re so big that I can’t remember exactly how big you are.”
“Guess we needed a more accurate measurement.” York grinned, then stiffened when
Perry pushed a button on the base of the sleeve. The thing around his cock began to
buzz. Not much, just a whisper, but enough that York glanced at it in alarm. “What’s it
doing?”
“It’s vibrating.” Perry looked oddly at him. “Have you... not used a vibrator before?”
York flushed. “I haven’t had any reason to.”
“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Perry murmured, his eyes dark. Then he
closed his fist around the white mesh, pressing it flush against York’s cock.
Pleasure hummed through his body, just a little. “Kinda tickles.”
“You want it increased?”
York nodded, so Perry pushed the button again. “More.”
“You’re sure you want more?” Perry looked askance at him. “It might get... intense.”
“Sounds like my kind of thing.” York stroked down Perry’s side. “C’mon, I wanna get
back inside you. Knot you.”
Perry gulped. “Fine, but just this once. I won’t be able to adjust it later.”
“We’ll be fine.” York kissed Perry on the lips, rumbling when the sleeve vibrated harder
around his growing knot.
On all fours, Perry crawled backward, his lace panties covering up his hole again. York
dragged its fabric sideways to reveal his hole, and rolled his hips to press his cock
against Perry’s entrance. Perry groaned. Then he pushed himself down, his hole
opening, taking York’s tip.
“Good?” York murmured, swallowing. The sleeve muffled the pressure of Perry’s body
by a little.
“It—It makes you even bigger,” Perry panted, his neck flushed red. “I-I just—need to
get used to it.”
York leaned back, so he could watch Perry’s hole open around the colorless sleeve. With
each inch, Perry panted harder, and the sleeve glistened each time he rocked away from
it.
“D’you wish I were that size?” York asked, almost jealous of the sleeve.
“No,” Perry wheezed. “Then I’d need an even bigger sleeve. I don’t—don’t know if I’d
fit you then.”
“Maybe it should be a little thinner,” York murmured, sliding his arm against Perry’s
abdomen, just holding him.
“Maybe.”
York watched as his cock and sleeve slid into his omega, all the way up to the white
mesh and his knot. At least, the sleeve was the right length for his cock. The mesh began
where his knot did, stretching as his knot filled up. “You’re sure you wanna take my
knot now? It’s getting pretty big. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Perry rocked against York’s knot. “I can, yes.” Then he pushed himself down, and York
watched in half-unease, half-arousal, as Perry opened around his knot, slowly, taking
the rest of York’s cock into his body.
And now the sleeve was mostly inside Perry, wrapped around York’s growing knot.
York would be stuck inside his omega for the next half hour, the vibrator sandwiched
between them.
“How are you feeling?” Perry asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Tight,” York growled. “But how’re you feeling? You’re the one taking my knot and the
sleeve at the same time.”
Perry laughed breathlessly. “Good. The vibrator works... very well.”
It buzzed between them, sending shocks of pleasure down York’s body. But what York
hadn’t anticipated was the sensitivity of his knot at full size.
Before, when Perry had expressed concern at the vibrator’s intensity, York had waved it
off. And York was starting to see why: as his knot expanded, the skin around it
stretched thin, bringing his nerves closer to the surface. And as his knot pressed against
Perry’s insides, it trapped the sleeve snug between them, tighter than Perry’s fist had
been. So York felt every electric sizzle down his spine.
Maybe Level Three wasn’t the best setting to start off with.
Perry was the first to gasp when York’s knot swelled fully, locking them together, and
the sleeve inside him.
“You okay?” York rasped, pleasure humming between his legs.

“Yes,” Perry whimpered. But a tremor shook through his limbs. “It’s... intense.” And a
jolt went up through his body, forcing him to clench around York. Pleasure shot
through York’s cock; he grunted.
“You’ve done this before?” York asked.
“Not for—for the full duration of a knot.” Perry quivered against him, his chest
heaving. “And not at Level Three.”
Well, fuck.
“W E ’ RE GONNA BE OKAY , RIGHT ?” York asked, alarmed.
“Mostly.” Perry gave a weak laugh. “I think.”
“You should’ve stopped me at Level Two.”
“I... was curious.” Perry flushed. Then he spasmed when the vibrator gave an especially
hard buzz. “I c-can’t... I don’t know how long I can hold on.”
“You’re supposed to be coming,” York murmured, reaching down. Perry’s cock was
rock-hard and dripping. And that was just from having York knot him, the sleeve
stretching him open even wider. “Looks like you’re a bit of a size queen.”
Perry flushed to the tips of his ears. “I wouldn’t s-say that.”
“I would.” York grinned and rolled his hips, burying his knot deeper inside his omega.
Perry scrabbled against the bed, his cock jerking, a moan ripping from his throat. Damn.
And the vibrator hummed between them, pulling York’s balls tighter. Like the sight of
his omega squirming in pleasure wasn’t enough. York tried to breathe through the
vibrations. Didn’t really work, when his cock ached.
Then, as though it were part of his imagination, the vibrations began to speed up.
York’s mouth grew dry; he held Perry tighter against himself. Tried to ignore the
building pressure in his cock. “Fuck.”
Perry whined, his entire body trembling. “I d-don’t think I can hold on.”
“So come,” York murmured, reaching down. He stroked Perry’s cock, slow and firm,
and pushed his knot deeper into his omega.
Perry screamed, his spine bowing, his body clenching so tight that the vibrating mesh
squeezed around York. York swore, his cock aching. Had ten minutes already passed?
Or were they only five in?
“We’re almost done, right?” he murmured, stroking Perry’s chest.
Perry panted, shaking his head. “I lasted five minutes with Level Two. This... This was
two minutes.”
And a knot stayed full for thirty. Fuck.

York gritted his teeth, the vibrations humming through his cock, into his hips. “Feels
like I could come again.”
He closed his hand around Perry’s cock, surprised to find it still hard. Perry moaned,
bucking his hips. That pulled at York’s knot, squeezing the vibrator tighter against
York’s skin. York jerked; pleasure hissed into his body. “So this—this is a vibrator.”
“Now you see why people use it,” Perry panted, rocking into York’s hand.
Impossibly, the vibrations grew stronger, sending jolts up York’s spine. Perry cried out,
squeezing tight around York. York glanced down in alarm. “What happened?”
“F-Feels like Level Four.” Perry groaned, writhing around York. “Gods, I should’ve—
should’ve put in an emergency stop.”
“There isn’t one?”
“No.” Perry arched. “And the button’s inside so I c-can’t reach it to make it s-stop. I
know, h-hindsight.”
The vibrator hummed between them, sending a ticklish sensation into York’s balls. As
though it was searching them for more come. He panted, pressing Perry down against
the bed, trying to ease the growing need between his legs. “Think I need to come.”
“I feel like I’m about to come again,” Perry panted, his nails digging into York’s arm.
And the vibrator pulsed against York, taunting. York couldn’t climax again—there was
just no way.
Perry trembled. “Maybe we sh-should talk about s-something else.”
Except the vibrator sent another jolt through them, and Perry hissed, his limbs
trembling, his body tensing.
“Talk about what?” York rasped.
“S-Something.” Perry shook so hard that York reached down, worried that something
had gone wrong with the vibrator. Except he found Perry’s cock thick, straining, more
precome dripping from his tip. York had never seen his omega this taut, still on the
brink of pleasure.
“Gods, you feel like you’re gonna jizz all over me,” he rasped, tracing the length of
Perry’s cock.
“I-I—” Perry shuddered. Then his voice broke, and he shot a small, wet load across
York’s hand. “A-ah!”
York imagined his omega’s pleasure, his own cock throbbing. He couldn’t pump it,
couldn’t touch it right now. Needed to jerk off so that tempting pleasure would go
away.
Impossibly, the vibrations only seemed to grow stronger. York pressed his forehead
against Perry’s shoulder, his body wrung tight. “How much more time?”
“M-Maybe twenty-five.”
Gods. York groaned, rolling his hips, trying to assuage his need with some friction.
Except Perry moaned and clawed against the bed, squeezing around him. “Y-York!
You’re making it worse.”
“You’re gonna come again?”
Perry’s legs trembled; he pressed his face against the mattress. “F-Feels like it.”
The vibrator buzzed between them, on and on, until York’s cock grew thicker. Perry
shuddered, his hands fisted in his sheets.
Then he cried out, squeezing around York, his body spasming with the force of his
release. York bit down his groan. He held on to Perry. Fought against the need to rock
inside his omega, ride that tempting, buzzing sensation pulling all his muscles taut.
“It’s—It’s pressed up against my p-prostate,” Perry whimpered, gasping for breath. “I

think I’m going t-t-to—ahhh!”
He arched against York, his voice breaking, his eyes rolling back as he shuddered
uncontrollably for what seemed like a full minute. York held him, his throat dry, his
pulse pounding in his cock.
It was something else, just watching your omega come and come and come, his body
squeezing tight around you, soaked in pleasure.
York swallowed hard, his cock so full it hurt. When he touched Perry’s cock, he found it
leaking again, Perry panting against him, his body sweaty and trembling.
“How much longer?” York rasped.
Perry took a while to answer. “Twenty.”
“I don’t think we can last that long,” York croaked. This already felt like an eternity.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Perry panted. “It’s either that, or I try to pull myself
off.”
York growled. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.”
“Then we sit through this.” Perry squeezed around York, shivering again.
The sleeve pulsed between them. Perry shook, and thrice more, he clenched around
York, his orgasms going dry, his cock flushed a dark red, oversensitive. York couldn’t
take his eyes off Perry at all. He wasn’t sure they’d ever do this again, if he’d ever see
Perry this blissed-out, his skin glistening with sweat.
“Wh-What if we show up at the ER like that?” Perry panted, his back pressed against
York’s chest. They were lying on their sides now, York a hair away from pinning his
omega down and riding him hard, until he finally found release.
Perry couldn’t move at all. He’d lost all the energy in his limbs, and he could only
shudder and arch, his tormented cock jerking with each climax.
“I don’t think we’ll make it to the ER,” York panted, his own limbs trembling. “I can’t
even climb off the bed.”
“We could call 911,” Perry said.
“There’ll probably be firefighters involved. Like, my coworkers.” York winced. “I’d

rather not.”
Perry laughed softly, his shoulders shaking. “A life-threatening emergency, York, and
you’d rather perish than face your coworkers?”
York groaned. “You know what it’s like to call 911. Two trucks show up, plus EMTs,
and because we can’t move to let them in, they’re gonna have to break the door to get in
here. And then they’re gonna see us bare-assed naked. Well, you with a pair of panties.
All because we can’t wait for my knot to go down.”
Perry grinned, his eyes crinkled up with amusement. “I didn’t know you were shy.”
“I’m not!” York flushed. “I just—This is supposed to be private. Besides, it’s not life-
threatening.”
He tried to pull away. Perry’s body squeezed around him, sending a jolt of pleasure
down his nerves. And the vibrator shot bliss down his cock, hauling York’s attention
back to where he and Perry joined. His cock ached, his balls clamored for release.
“Fuck,” York growled, squeezing Perry’s hip. “I still need to come.”
“Can you?” Perry met York’s eyes over his shoulder.

“I’d have to ride you hard,” York muttered. His cheeks grew hot. “Not sure it’s gonna
work. You’ve already come so many times.”
Perry swallowed. “I’ll be fine.”
Gods, York wanted to make his omega come again. Just so it was him doing it, and not
the vibrator. “But I might destroy the sleeve.”
“It’ll hold,” Perry murmured. “I made sure of it.”
“You sure?”
It was Perry’s turn to flush. “I figured this might happen. You having to fuck me with
the sleeve still on. It’s reinforced.”
York groaned; it felt as though his cock grew bigger, just hearing those words. He rolled
his hips, sliding his knot deeper into Perry. Perry’s spine bowed, his breath punching
out of him. Fuck.
“Do it,” Perry moaned, digging his nails into York’s scratched-up forearms.
York wanted to say no. But with the sleeve pulsing around him, sending toe-curling
vibrations to his cock that he couldn’t ignore, he pinned Perry beneath himself, and
rolled his hips hard.
His knot lodged deep into his omega, opening him up. Perry jerked, his mouth falling
open, his chest heaving. “York—”
“Fucking take it,” York growled. He shoved his knot deeper into Perry, so Perry gave a
full-body shudder, his limbs wound taut.
On the third thrust, Perry gasped, his body sucking on York’s cock. On the fourth, Perry
clutched at him, on the edge, jerking uncontrollably in that way York had come to
recognize. And on the fifth thrust, Perry screamed, his voice so raw that York could
barely make out his name.
Gods, York was making him come. He rode Perry through his release, over and over,
the sleeve humming around him, bringing him ever closer to the edge. “Soon,” York
rasped, pinning Perry down by his hips, rocking his knot deeper into his omega. Perry
shuddered and gasped, oversensitive, on the brink of coming again.
York fucked into him hard. Perry spasmed through yet another orgasm, his body
wringing tight around York. York imagined filling Perry with yet more come. Making
Perry his. And he pressed Perry against the mattress, rocking savagely into him, until
he finally, finally began that climb to the edge. His balls pulled tighter than before. His
nerves sang, and his back muscles protested, from how hard he was slamming into
Perry, joining their bodies together, fitting every inch of himself inside his omega.
Perry screamed, clenching around York, shaking so hard York worried he’d hurt
himself, except—
Pleasure crashed through York in a bright-white splash; he roared and fucked in deep,
knot and all. Perry writhed, taking all of York, his body begging York for his come.
It was a while before York could think again. Then the horror of their situation sank in.
“Wait,” he panted. “If I’ve just come a second time... does that mean my knot will stay
for another half-hour?”
Perry lay limp against York, a soft whimper slipping from his throat. “I might die right
here,” he whispered, his body soaked with sweat. “I don’t think I can last another
round.”
York froze, alarm ringing through his chest. “What the hell? You aren’t gonna die.”
“Sure feels like it.” Perry huffed. Then he spasmed again, clenching around York.
Gods, that vibrator. York wasn’t sure if he loved or hated that thing. “I forbid you from
dying,” York growled, dragging his wrists down Perry’s damp skin. “Mine. I’m not
letting you leave.”
Perry laughed, pressing his cheek against the mattress. York lay with him, just holding
his omega, hoping his knot would recede. It had to. Gods knew Perry had suffered
enough, stuck with the vibrator inside him.
And yeah, if any firefighter broke into their apartment for a rescue, they’d find York
and Perry curled up on a come- and sweat-soaked bed, and that... well. Maybe it wasn’t
so bad, after all.
York sank his teeth lightly into Perry’s shoulder, just enough to leave faint teeth marks.
Perry gasped, then shuddered through another climax.
Ever so slowly, York felt the fullness at his groin recede. He held his breath, not
wanting to jinx it.
“I think,” Perry whispered raggedly, “I think it feels a little better now.”
“Yeah.” York almost tried to tug his knot out, then decided he wasn’t going to risk
having it swell up again. They waited. The vibrator pulsed, and York buried his face in
Perry’s back, his limbs sore, the sleeve teasing his cock again, trying to egg him into
another round of fucking.
“They say people bond over a near-death experience,” York said. Perry snorted.
After what felt like an eternity, his knot receded enough for him to ease out. Perry’s
body clung to York, begging him to stay. York swallowed hard. Pulled out. Perry
shivered, relaxing the moment the white mesh left his body.
“Gods,” Perry croaked, sagging against the bed. “I thought it would never end.”
He looked utterly spent—his hair disheveled, his ass smeared with slick, his hole
gaping from how much York had stretched it.
And maybe it felt like York had ruined him for anyone else, so all Perry wanted now
was him. It was a good thought. Made York’s heart swell.
York tugged the sleeve off and dropped it on the nightstand, dragging his fist down his
cock. Felt nice to be liberated. He wasn’t sure he’d ever put that thing on again. Maybe
if Perry convinced him enough. “I hope we don’t need more testing.”
“I’ll get your dad to do the rest.” Perry laughed weakly, huddling against a pillow.
“I’m not going to imagine that.” York made a face. He loved his dad and everything,
but Dad doing any sex stuff just squicked York out. “Bath?” he suggested instead.
“I can’t move.” Perry tried to wriggle against the messy sheets, but he only managed to
twitch. York tugged the drenched panties off Perry’s legs. Then he stretched his limbs;
damn, his muscles were sore from how tense he’d been. It had to be so much worse for
Perry.
“I’ll run the bath,” York said.
“Sure it won’t fall in again?” Perry huffed.
That was how they’d met this time around, wasn’t it? York grinned. “If it falls in, I’ll
yell, and you can come get me.”
“I won’t be strong enough to pull you up.”
“It’s fine. I have a step ladder. I’ll just climb back in here.”
“Like a burglar?” Perry chuckled, but there was life in his eyes again, a little twinkle
that warmed York from the inside.
“You can’t be wanting one of those roleplays where a big, bad burglar breaks into your
apartment and has his way with you,” York said.
Perry thought about it. “Maybe if you were the burglar, I wouldn’t mind.”
As ridiculous as it sounded, what if that ended up helping Perry through his fear of
alphas? York shelved the thought, peeling himself off the bed. “We’ll save that for
tomorrow, maybe. I’m beat.”
Perry glanced at York’s hips. “You sure are.”
“Hey, at least it no longer looks like a snake.”
“Really? It’s still distinctly... snake-like to me.” Perry grinned, wriggling his hands
under himself to try and sit up.
York leaned in, wrapping his arms around his omega, just breathing in Perry’s honey-
and-tulip scent. Perry sagged against him. York felt Perry’s exhaustion in the limpness
of his body, the way Perry’s eyelids fluttered shut. Funny what half an hour with a
vibrator had done to them both.
“Maybe just a shower,” York said, scooping Perry into his arms. “I’ll get the sheets
changed, and then we’ll sleep.”
“Mm.” Perry nuzzled York’s shoulder, curling tiredly into his chest. “Sounds good.”
Perry had dozed off when York set him in the bathtub, laying his head gently against
the wall. He dropped a kiss on Perry’s forehead and murmured, “I love you.”
To his surprise, Perry stirred, his eyes half-shut. “Love you,” Perry mumbled back.
York’s heart stopped. Perry had never said that to him before. He was half-asleep right
now, so... Had that been real? Or had it just been an automatic response?
“Perry?” York murmured, his throat too tight.
Perry’s eyelashes fluttered; he gave a soft snore. York didn’t want to pressure him, to
ask if Perry had meant what he’d said.
If Perry really meant it... He would say it again, right?

“S O ... A BOUT LAST NIGHT ,” York said.
Perry stirred, his entire body aching. What had happened last night? He hurt all over,
and his ass was pleasantly sore—that always meant he’d had a good time with York.
“Last night?”
Gods, his voice. Perry winced. How am I going to conduct lectures today?
York growled, his arm tightening around Perry’s waist. “Gods, you sound so damn
sinful.”
Perry flushed, then groaned. “I can’t go to work like this,” he said, his voice creaking
like an old door. “I have two lectures today, York. Two! That’s three whole hours!”
York grinned. “If only you could stay home. I’d give you a damn good reason to.” He
leaned in to kiss Perry, and Perry’s heart skipped a beat. “But even if you could, I can’t
stick around,” York added regretfully. “Duty calls.”
That meant a whole twenty-four hours before Perry got to see his alpha again. Perry bit
his lip, his heart sinking. “I could... drop by the station with Caleb and Lenna,” Perry
croaked. “Is that allowed?”
York cheered up. “If we aren’t out on a call, yeah. Just for a couple minutes. Text me
before you head down—I’ll keep you updated.”
“I will.” Strange how something so small could lift his spirits by so much. Perry smiled,
tucking his face into York’s shoulder. He was already starting to miss York, and York
hadn’t even begun his shift.
“So, last night,” York tried again.
Perry glanced at his thighs, blushing at the mouth-sized bruises scattered across his
skin. York’s marks. They weren’t permanent, but... York had wanted them there. He’d
wanted Perry as his. Perry gulped.
“Do you remember what you said?” York fidgeted.
“What I said...?” Perry had said a lot of things.
“Yeah. Well, later on. After we’d gotten the vibrator out of you.”
Perry flushed. He’d been utterly exhausted—even now, the muscles in his body ached,
drained from the workout they’d had. “I... don’t. What did I say?”
York wet his lips, folding the sheets between his fingers. “Nothing much.”
“It was something. Tell me.”
York met his eyes then. “But I can have secrets too, right?”
Perry’s insides twisted. Keeping secrets was one thing, but having secrets withheld
from him? Especially when they were York’s? That put an uneasy feeling in his gut. “I
said something really bad, huh?”
Did I tell him about Caleb? Perry stopped breathing. He wracked his mind, trying to
remember any conversation they’d had between the vibrator and sleep, but all he
remembered was the warmth of the shower. And a huge, disconcerting stretch of
blankness. Oh, gods. What if he knows about Caleb?
But York was still holding him, York wasn’t angry, so maybe... it wasn’t that. Maybe
Perry’s secret was still safe.
“It wasn’t that bad.” York flushed. “Just something you don’t usually say, is all.”
“You aren’t going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope.”
Perry frowned, but all York did was zip his lips.
“A secret for a secret,” York said, locking gazes with Perry. “That’s how it’s gonna go.”
“Oh.” Perry might as well give up on ever knowing what he’d said, because York
wasn’t finding out about Caleb. “We’ll see about that.”
“It’s not urgent, anyway,” York murmured, gathering Perry close again. “I still love
you.”
That made Perry’s heart squeeze tight. “You shouldn’t.”
Disappointment flickered through York’s eyes. “Yeah, well. It’s happened. Too late.”
He dropped a kiss on Perry’s cheek, then on his lips. “I gotta go, though. Hate to say it.”
Perry sagged, trying not to whine.
York’s lips quirked in a smile. “You’re pouting.”
“I am not.”
“You so are.”
“I’m thirty-eight, York. I do not pout.”
York snorted. “Sure, whatever you say.”
He pinned Perry against the mattress and kissed him, slow and lingering. Perry’s breath
hitched. Then York climbed off the bed, all bronzed skin and flexing muscle, and Perry
couldn’t help staring.
That alpha was beautiful. York could have anyone, really, except he was here. Perry
swallowed, pushing away the ghosts from his past. The ones that said, You think you’re
pretty, but you’re really not. The ones that said, You’re a gods-awful waste of space. And the
ones that didn’t say anything at all, but brought pain with them.
He looked down at his hands, flipping them back and forth. Trying to see the good in
them. York’s still here. But he’ll probably come around and leave someday. I should hurry it up
so he won’t hurt Caleb so much. Thirty Days to Lose An Alpha, remember?
Perry listened to the muted sounds of the shower, his heart thumping. There was one
guaranteed way to make York leave.
The thing was, Perry was too much of a coward to tell York the truth.
R ON WAS in the college parking lot when Perry clocked off from work. Perry didn’t see
him, not at first. The alpha was stalking between students’ cars, sniffing, his eyes
narrowed.
It was only when Perry was five steps from his sedan, that Ron stepped out from the
next car over, his beady eyes locking onto Perry. Perry froze.
“So. Still with that baby alpha, huh?” Ron strode over and sniffed at Perry, scanning
over him like he was trying to see beneath Perry’s clothes.
Perry fought down the bile in his throat. “What do you want?”
“Same as before. Ten grand. I’m out of cash, Perry, and you’ve got loads of it.”
“I don’t.” Perry stepped back, his skin crawling when Ron prowled closer. “It’s all gone
into childcare.”
“Bullshit.” Ron glanced at Perry’s car.

It was serviceable. No cracked windshield or peeling paint—pretty decent for an old
secondhand car, actually. Perry had put money in to get the AC fixed, to re-upholster
the seats. It was the one nice thing he’d allowed himself.
“You’ve got money for your car, you’ve got money for me.” Ron stepped closer,
cracking his knuckles.
Perry hated that sound. On York, it was bearable, but on Ron, it meant the start of
agony. Of belts splitting Perry’s skin open, of ruthless fingers in Perry’s hair. Perry
backed away, his belly twinging with phantom pain. He couldn’t breathe. “I h-have an
alpha.”
Ron raised an eyebrow, glancing at the faint hickeys on Perry’s throat, where the
foundation had begun to rub off. “Looks like he’s teaching you how you should be
treated.”
Not in the way you think.
“How long do you think he’ll stay?” Ron mocked. “Young brat like him, he’ll chase
down the next omega that comes along. You aren’t the youngest, Perry. You aren’t even
the prettiest.”
Perry tried not to let those words sink in, he really did. But he didn’t know what would
stop York from leaving when he found out the truth.
Ron stalked closer, and Perry couldn’t help sliding his hand over his belly, trying to
protect the baby there.
Ron smirked. “That brat knocked you up? Damn, you’re easy.”
The thing was... Ron was right. Perry hadn’t tried too hard not to sleep with York. He’d
wanted York’s baby, and that made him desperate, didn’t it? Perry had never told York
the truth about that night. “It’s none of your business,” Perry tried to say. His voice
cracked.
“It’ll be my business when he dumps you, and you come crawling back to me.” Ron
curled his lip. “You know where your place is, Perry. It’s not with him.”
Perry couldn’t deny that. He bit his lip, his heart thudding with dread. He wasn’t going
to return to Ron, either, but... Right now, he couldn’t remember why York would want
him around for longer than a quick fuck.
Ron stepped so close that his bitter boxwood scent crept into Perry’s nose, and Perry
could feel the terrible heat rolling off his body. Ron sneered. Perry’s ribs squeezed tight;
fear slid icily through his veins. He needed to run, except he was frozen to the ground,
his body seizing up.
For a second, Perry thought Ron might lash out, and hit him. He braced himself for
agony. For his nose crunching, his hair falling in clumps onto the ground.
Then Ron smirked and left, and Perry couldn’t shake the sick, oily feeling that had
lodged inside his chest.
H ALF AN HOUR LATER , after he’d picked up Caleb and Lenna from childcare, Perry
pulled into the staff parking lot behind the Meadowfall Fire Department.
He felt out of sorts, bringing his car around the garage. This wasn’t public parking.
There were signs telling the public where they could park, and that this was personnel-
only.
A couple of firefighters looked up when he pulled in. They were alphas, from the way
their muscles bulged. Perry stopped breathing. He remembered too late that the whole
station was run by alphas.
Alphas meant fear, and pain. The run-in with Ron was far too fresh in his mind, and he
couldn’t help the instinct to flee. To expect pain. To be faced down by someone far
stronger than him. A firefighter started for Perry’s car, big and burly. Perry froze in his
seat. This isn’t good. We need to leave.
“Daddy?” Caleb asked, kicking his feet in the backseat.
Perry couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. Why can’t I be stronger than this? He
needed to put the car into reverse. He needed to get it moving. He wished he could
walk into the station as though alphas were just ordinary people, except his instincts
said, They’re going to hurt you.
The firefighter paused, glancing away as though someone had called for him. Then he
headed off, Perry forgotten.
Perry sagged with relief. I should’ve parked a block away. It would’ve been easier to walk over.
He was about to reverse the car when York jogged out of the garage, waving like a
beacon of safety. Perry sucked in a shuddering breath. He kind of felt like crying then.
“Daddy!” Caleb said. “I see York! And fire trucks! Are we there?”
“Yes. Yes, we are.” Perry parked the car and fumbled his way out, wobbling into York’s
arms.
York pulled him into a deep kiss. “Hey.”
Perry shivered against him, needing to burrow into York’s strong chest, and just forget
about everything for a while. “Hey.”
York looked into his eyes. “Something happened?”
“I’m—I’m just tired.” There wasn’t anything York could do, anyway. Ron had already
left.
York looked hard at him for a moment. “We’re gonna talk about this,” he murmured,
kissing Perry again. Then he pulled the backdoor open for Caleb.
“York!” Caleb waved, squirming in delight.
“How’s things going, buddy?” York grinned back, ruffling his hair.
“Did you find the snake?” Caleb asked.
For the first time in what felt like hours, Perry cracked a smile. Oh, Caleb.
“Yeah, I did.” York met Perry’s eyes. “I released the snake back into the wild. It hid in a
hole. Your dad supervised.”
Supervised, indeed. Perry blushed.
“Awesome,” Caleb said.
“That’s his new favorite word,” Perry told York. “He’s been saying it a lot lately. I think
he must’ve picked it up from TV.” It felt good to just... not talk about himself right now.
“It’s a good word.” York helped Caleb out of the car, then rounded the trunk to scoop
Lenna out of the other car seat. “What other favorite words do you have, Caleb?”
“Poop!” Caleb grinned. “And spectagoggles!”
“That’s not an actual word, is it?” York kissed Lenna on the cheek.
“It is!” Caleb looked so indignant that York laughed. Caleb laughed right along with his
dad.
Perry watched them, his heart sinking. Caleb was bonding with York. My baby boy will
hurt so much when York leaves. He wet his lips, his heart squeezing. Maybe York would
insist on seeing Caleb. He had the right to, after all.
York deserves to know.
His heart pounding so hard he couldn’t think, Perry looked at the garage, finding the
other firefighters scattered around. It was evening. Some of the alphas were wiping
down the trucks, others were paired off into discussions.
A couple of omegas wandered by the parking lot, waving at York.
York broke into a smile, waving back. Perry looked at the asphalt. He thought about
how much more York would smile if he were with an omega his own age. Someone
who wasn’t broken. Someone who didn’t hide a child from him.
“Hey,” York said, tangling their fingers together. “What’s wrong?”
Perry swallowed hard. It felt like glass shards had lodged in his throat. Caleb ran in
circles around the parking lot, and Lenna plucked at the neckline of York’s station T-
shirt. Perry thought about Ron, and going home to lead York on even more. Keeping
those secrets from him. Holding York back from others who could make him happier.
He couldn’t do it. York deserved better.
“My secret,” Perry said before he could regret it. “You wanted to know.”
York sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah?”
“I—I lied to you.” Perry’s voice cracked and went soft, and he wasn’t sure York could
hear him. But he couldn’t stop. “About Caleb. You asked if there was another alpha.
There wasn’t.”
York blinked hard. “Wait. Caleb...?”
“I didn’t sleep with another alpha that week. Five years ago. He’s your son.”
Perry couldn’t breathe. It felt like his chest would explode. And York stared at him, first
in confusion, then in slow understanding.
“He’s... my son,” York said, glancing at the boy just a few feet away. “He’s... mine?”
“You wanted to know,” Perry choked. He’d expected the explosion to come a lot faster.
But waiting for it... that killed him, too. “That’s the truth. I swear on it.”
“Caleb’s mine,” York said again. “He’s four.”
“Yes.”
“So this whole time, I had a son.”

“Yes.”
“And you were just here, in Meadowfall.”
“Yes.” Gods, Perry needed air, but his lungs had constricted into a small, tight lump.
“You could’ve told me, but you didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“Then we got together, and I asked you, and you just—” York rounded on Perry, his
gaze betrayed. “You straight-up lied to my face.”
“Yes!”
The transformation in York’s face was terrible to watch. The growing horror, the
realization that Perry was some sort of parasite, a two-faced liar. “Why the hell did you
do it?”
“Because I never intended to share him with you!” Perry’s insides wrung tight, fear
clogging his throat. And now everything would shatter.
York stared at him, the hurt and disbelief in his eyes too much to bear. Perry’s heart
cracked.
“I trusted you,” York whispered, stepping back from Perry.
“I know.”
“I can’t believe you’d hide shit like this from me.”
Perry bowed his head. “You’d best start believing it.” Because why try to salvage this
anymore?
“You think this is all just a game?” York asked, the beginnings of anger flickering in his
eyes.
Then he stepped closer, looming over Perry, and Perry’s throat squeezed shut. He’s
angry. He’s going to hurt me now. His nerves tensed. His ears rang. His body braced for
pain.
Something in Perry broke.
He took a step back, turning. “I’m leaving.”
He couldn’t stay around longer, wondering when York would hurt him. He loved York,
yes. But York knew the truth now. And he would only get angrier the more he thought
about it. Then he would slam Perry against the wall, he would grab Perry’s hair, he
would—
Perry swallowed the fear bubbling through his lungs. “Caleb. Let’s—Let’s go.”
“Wait.” York grabbed Perry’s arm, his grip too tight. “You can’t just leave—”
Perry shook him off, his instincts blaring. “Yes, I can. Caleb!”
“That’s it?” York snapped. “You fucking lied, and now you think you can just leave?”
Perry blinked back his tears, sucking in a sharp breath so he wouldn’t break down right
there. Then he turned to face York. “What would you rather have me do?”
York stared at Perry, saying nothing. Then, quietly, he murmured, “You said you loved
me. When you were half-asleep.”
Gods, I did? Perry’s heart clenched. “I was lying then, too.”
He looked away, but not before he glimpsed the hurt that flashed through York’s face.
I’m every bit the terrible person that Ron said I am.
Caleb wandered over, frowning. Perry yanked open the car door. Tucked Caleb into the
child seat. York watched them, his eyes blazing.
Gone were the soft gazes, gone were the smiles and trust. Perry should have savored
them while he could, but everything had gone up in smoke now.
This was for the best. Perry had laid out all his secrets for York, and York had judged
him for it. And now they could finally move on.
“I can take Lenna back to your dad,” Perry croaked when he’d closed the door behind
Caleb.
York tightened his hold around his sister—he didn’t trust Perry with her.
Perry’s heart hurt. He could deal with it. He stumbled to the driver’s side door,
fumbling with the door handle. Then he shoved himself into the seat, shut the door, and
the noises from the station died away.
“What happened?” Caleb asked.
“We won’t be seeing York anymore,” Perry said. He backed them out of the lot, trying
not to glimpse York’s betrayed stare. His clenched jaw, and the fury in his eyes.
“Are we going home?”

For so long, Perry had thought of York as a safe place. Somewhere he could go, where
things could turn out okay. He no longer had that. And Perry wished he could take it all
back.
“We’re going home,” he said.
But the apartment no longer felt like home. York had been home, Perry realized.
The only constant in his life, it seemed, were regrets.

Y ORK STARED AT L ENNA , the silence deafening around him.
Caleb was his son. Caleb had been his son for four years, and York had never even
known until now. Perry had hidden that child from him. Then York had asked, and
Perry had lied—he’d fucking lied to York.
They’d been lovers. They’d been boyfriends. York had known that Perry had been
keeping a secret, but he hadn’t thought it was this fucking huge a secret.
How the fuck could you do this to me?
Lenna began to cry. “Ow, ow!”
York glanced down and realized he was holding her too tightly. He set her on the
ground, his chest squeezing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
She continued to wail anyway, rubbing where her arm had turned pink. York closed his
eyes, guilt and anger swirling in his chest. He wanted to yell, wanted to punch a wall. I
can’t believe Perry did this to me.
He’d been an idiot, believing Perry. Spending that much time with him. Thinking—
gods—Thinking he could maybe adopt Caleb. Fuck. When Caleb was actually his son.
He’d already been played once by FrogPrince. He’d fallen in love with Prince and
Prince had broken his heart, and York had to do it again? Had he really thought things
would go better with Perry Larkin this time?
“Damn it!” York yelled, his chest too tight. Couldn’t breathe.
“York?” Gareth stopped next to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. “You all right,
son?”
“Fuck, no.” York clenched his fists. Tried to fight the urge to hit something.
Gareth glanced at the empty road leading away from the station. “That your omega?”
“Not anymore,” York said, and the words felt like glass on his lips.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, kid.” Gareth winced, turning York back toward the station. “C’mon,
remember the studies you were doing earlier?”
Like hell York could concentrate on anything right now. “I’m not a kid,” he muttered.
“He lied to me.”
Gareth winced harder. “You mean, he cheated?”
If only it were that. York’s heart ached. “No. He’s never.”
“Money?”
York shook his head. “We have a son. He—I can’t believe he’s never told me. Caleb’s
four now. Four fucking years old, Gareth.”
“He out of state or something?”
“Not even,” York spat. “He’s just been here, hiding. And—And we became boyfriends
and he never even told me then.”
Gods, Perry had made such a fool of York. And York had just... been there for him. Like
a complete idiot. What else had Perry lied to him about?
Gareth grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Not like you have to. It doesn’t solve anything.”
They stood in silence, the sounds from the garage drifting over. Then Gareth looked up
at the sky, and said, “I had an omega, once.”
“I couldn’t save him.”
York didn’t think it would, but his heart twinged on Gareth’s behalf. “I’m sorry.”
Gareth shrugged, his lips twisting into a wan smile. “That doesn’t bring him back.”
“So why did you tell me that, then?” York watched as Lenna stopped crying. She
wandered around the cars in the parking lot, entertaining herself.
“Just saying that there’s things in life you don’t want to regret. Things like letting an
omega go.”
Seriously? Did Gareth come all the way out here, just to rub that in York’s face?
“He’s left me twice, Gareth. I’m not gonna go back. I’m just gonna get burned again,”
York spat, hating the tightness in his chest. The shame of knowing he’d been lied to, the
helplessness. He could’ve prevented himself from getting hurt again, except he’d been
too reckless to heed the signs.
“Why’d he leave?” Gareth glanced at the road. “Why did he lie about the child? He
looked older than you.”
“Damned if I know,” York muttered. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe you should stuff it.” York knew he shouldn’t say that to a senior firefighter, but
he didn’t have any fucks left to give right now.
Gareth clapped him hard on the shoulder, enough that it stung. “Think about it. From
what you’ve told us about your omega, it sounds like he doesn’t do things without
good reason. Maybe he’s at fault. I don’t know. But I rather you not make a mistake
because you were too pissed off to be reasonable. You seemed really happy with him
for a while there.”
The words rang around York, and York felt too betrayed to heed any of them.
Gareth wandered toward the garage, calling back over his shoulder. “And see to that
kid. We aren’t running a daycare here, York.”
York pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving everything out of his mind. His head was
starting to pound. Nothing was going right today.
Worse, Perry was gone, Perry had lied, and York didn’t know if he could trust anyone
else again.
T HE FIRST TEXT came a week later. Can I have Caleb for the weekend?
Perry’s stomach dropped. He set the phone on his bed and stared at it, not knowing
how to react. It was the first time since the breakup that York had spoken to him.
Since that evening, Perry had packed everything, hired some movers last-minute, and
completely vacated his apartment. He’d left York’s things just inside York’s apartment,
save for a Frog Island T-shirt that York had left in Perry’s laundry hamper. That shirt,
Perry brought along with him.
He’d rented an apartment on the other side of town. Caleb had complained. But he
seemed to settle into his new room after a few days, and Perry had bought more toys to
distract him.
It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism. Then again, Perry didn’t have much of a coping
mechanism to begin with. He listened to Caleb playing in the next room, and closed his
eyes. Grabbed his phone. Opened his eyes long enough to type, Yes.
What else could he do? York could take Perry to court if he wanted. And then Perry
would lose Caleb for sure.
Perry’s chest tightened again. He buried his face in his pillow, trying not to remember
Micah Davis’ disappointment when Perry had returned the car seat last week.
What happened? Micah had asked, looking all worried when Perry showed up at his
apartment. Micah had smelled like sex and alpha, and Perry had thought about his own
empty bed, his heart sinking with dread.
I broke up with York, Perry had answered. I told him about Caleb.
Micah had winced. I’m sorry.
He won’t forgive me, will he?
I’m afraid not, Micah had said. He hasn’t even forgiven Cole, and that’s from twelve years ago.
So Perry was back to sleeping alone. He should have been used to it, except it had only
given him sleepless nights, memories of York plaguing his thoughts.
The phone buzzed again. When and where?

“Gods, I don’t know.” Perry tugged on his hair, burying his face in the mattress. It
smelled faintly like York, but the scent would fade with time. Perry’s heart ached. He
typed out a time and place. Then he hit Send and closed his eyes, dragging his pillow
over his head.
Surely this would end, somehow. His chest hurt. It hadn’t stopped hurting since last
week, and Perry had been fending off the questions Caleb had been asking about York.
Maybe it would be better when Saturday arrived. Maybe.
That was, if Perry could survive meeting York again.
H IS HANDS SHOOK when he pulled into Wy’s Drive-In, a noodle place just off the
highway. Perry slid on his sunglasses, wishing his heart would stop pounding so hard.
“I see York,” Caleb cried, peering out the window.
Perry almost hit the brakes. His heart lodged in his throat. His ears rang. He made
himself breathe. Then he drove carefully up to where York had parked, his chest too
tight.
“Are you excited?” Perry asked, his voice shaking.
“Yes!”
At least, one of us is. He made himself click off his seatbelt. York was waiting outside, on
the other side of the car. Fear crept up Perry’s throat. If I leave quickly, he won’t hurt me.
He grabbed Caleb’s overnight bag from the passenger seat. Then he stepped out of the
car, and opened the backdoor. Helped Caleb out. Caleb wriggled, looking brightly up at
him.
So Perry pulled his son into a hug, breathing in Caleb’s clean soap scent. He would miss
Caleb so much. Even if it was just for one night. “Take care, hon. Here’s your bag with
all your toys. Don’t lose anything, okay?”
Caleb shook his head. “I won’t.”
Perry kissed him on the cheek. Hoped to goodness that York wouldn’t tell Caleb how
terrible his daddy was. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Stay safe. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Caleb grinned toothily, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
Perry hugged him tighter. Then he nudged Caleb so Caleb stepped around the trunk of
the car.
“Hey,” York said, his voice low and gruff. “You doing okay, buddy?”
“Uh-huh,” Caleb answered, smiling up at him.
We’re done here. Let’s go. Perry turned abruptly, hurrying back into the car. Shut the door
behind himself, where it was safe.
Through the window, Caleb waved. York couldn’t see him from here, so Perry pulled
off his sunglasses and waved back, smiling. Then he hightailed it out of there, his heart
pounding, his hands shaking.
It wasn’t until he’d paused at a stoplight, that he realized there were tear tracks down
his cheeks.
Did York miss him? Probably not. Was he still angry with Perry? Very likely. York
probably didn’t feel anything for Perry anymore.
Perry hid his face in his hands, shaking into pieces.
Later, when he reached home, he made himself a cup of tea. Pulled open his laptop.
And despite all his good senses telling him not to, Perry made his way onto YouTube.
He huddled up in bed, clicking on the only channel he was subscribed to.
York had posted two new videos. He looked good in them. Perry played the first one.
“Hey.” York waved, his voice tinny. “I haven’t been posting quite as much lately—life
happened. But now I’m back. Who’s excited about the new Frog Island updates?”
It was as though nothing had happened in his life, that had affected his video
personality. Perry swallowed. Maybe Perry didn’t matter that much to York, anyway.
Perry pulled out the Frog Island shirt he’d hidden beneath his pillow, wrapping it
around himself. Then he put in his earbuds, and listened to his alpha.
This was the closest he could get to York without being hurt. It had to be enough now.
“W HY DOES Daddy throw up so much?” Caleb asked five weeks later, looking worried.
“Is he sick?”
York froze, staring at Caleb. Yeah, he had an idea. But for Caleb to mention it?
York wracked his mind, trying to remember if Perry had looked thin when he’d
dropped Caleb off. He didn’t know. He’d been too busy being pissed with Perry.
Then he wanted to kick himself—because Perry was pregnant, he was pregnant with
York’s second baby, and York had promised to be responsible for that child. What
happened to that?
And now York felt like a bastard. “Why don’t you ask your dad if he’s seen the doctor?”
Caleb nodded, still uneasy. “Okay.”
“Good.” York looked at his burger and fries, his appetite waning. He hadn’t been
keeping up on how Perry was doing. He’d been pissed, and he’d completely written
Perry out of his life. Except this little nugget of an update... It worried him.
He’d heard about pregnancies where omegas puked and didn’t stop puking, and they
ended up in hospital on the verge of losing their babies. He’d heard other things, too,
more worrying shit, except he didn’t want to think about it right now.
Perry was an adult. He could take care of himself. He wasn’t even York’s anymore,
anyway.
But York couldn’t stop thinking about it. Perry isn’t okay.
“What’s a froggo-gel?” Caleb asked, munching on his fries. “Can you eat it?”
York blinked his attention back to Caleb. “Froggo-gel? Where’d you hear it from?”
Froggo-gel was a new item introduced in the latest Frog Island update. It was a
dormant trap laid on the ground to capture the zombie frogs before they could attack.
York had talked about it in his latest video.
“You said it.” Caleb looked expectantly at York. “On your video!”
York froze. Stared at Caleb. “You know I make videos?”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We watched
your video this morning.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Daddy and me.”
The first thought York had was, Did your dad make you watch my video so you can tell me
about it? Is he trying to beg for forgiveness?
His second thought was, Or is he making you watch my videos out of guilt?
But his third thought, a quiet, nagging one, said, Perry watched my videos at the
playground. He didn’t know I was going to interrupt him. He dropped his phone and blushed.
York swallowed, his heart aching. “Froggo-gel’s for trapping the zombie frogs. I think
it’s gonna taste like yuck, so don’t eat it.”
“Oh.” Caleb looked disappointed. “What about the Kikking Pancakes? Are those
yummy?”
“Well, somewhat. On Frog Island, you make them with flour and frog eggs.”
“Daddy says he’ll make some for me.” Caleb smiled, kicking his legs. “He says I’m
going to eat all the pancakes.”
“Yeah?” York swallowed, remembering Perry making pancakes for the three of them.
He didn’t want to think about it. Perry was a liar. “Your dad only watches those videos
with you, right? He doesn’t watch them by himself.”
Caleb shook his head. “Daddy was watching you when I woke up. I got into bed with
him. He played more videos for me.”
It could all just be a setup. Perry could’ve heard his son waking, and pulled up the
video.
He’s already said it. He doesn’t love you.
But that small part of his heart remembered Perry lying bare beneath him, utmost trust
in his gaze. It remembered Perry in the toy shop, terrified behind the frog mask. It
remembered Perry flustered, smiling when York teased him. All those memories had
felt real.
Can’t be. He lied. York shoved a French fry into his mouth. “Your dad ever talk about
me?”
Caleb glanced around. Then, cupping his mouth with both his hands, Caleb whispered,
“Daddy says he loves you.”
What the hell? York choked on his fry. He coughed hard, pounding it out of his
windpipe. It couldn’t be true. Perry was a liar. So he was either lying to Caleb, or he
was lying to York. He’d already lied to York. What were the chances of Perry lying to
his own son?
“Let’s talk about something else,” York said, glancing at the time on his phone. “Your
dad’s coming to pick you up soon, anyway.”
“Okay.” Caleb bit into another fry. “Daddy says we’re moving out of Meadowfall.”
Away? York stopped breathing. “When?”
“I dunno.” Caleb shrugged.
York stared at his son, trying to process everything. Perry throwing up far too much.
Perry watching his videos. Perry lying about his love. And moving out of Meadowfall.
It shouldn’t concern York. But it crawled under his skin and sat there, and York needed
to return Caleb, so he could wash Perry out of his mind.
Time crawled until Perry’s car pulled into the parking lot. York’s heart kicked.
He didn’t love that omega. Not anymore.
But as he watched Perry step out of his car—Perry was thin. Thinner than before,
unhealthily so. It was wrong. Perry hadn’t been taking care of himself. He was supposed
to. He had that baby to think about, too. Why wasn’t he?
A surge of anger coiled in York’s gut. “C’mon, Caleb,” he growled. “Time to go home.”
He waited for Caleb to squirm out of the booth. Then he strode out of the burger place,
Caleb running to keep up.
York was next to Perry in a heartbeat, York was in Perry’s personal space, glowering,
wondering why the hell he hadn’t noticed how much weight Perry had lost, until now.
Because he’d been trying so damn hard to put Perry out of his mind, that was why.
“Daddy!” Caleb cried excitedly.
Perry paled, backing away, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses. York caught his arm—
gods, why was he so thin?—and sniffed at him. Beneath the achingly-familiar scents of
tulip and honey, York smelled traces of sour puke. “You’re leaving Meadowfall?”
Perry stiffened. York couldn’t tell what he was feeling, not without looking at his eyes.
He needed to see the truth. So he pulled Perry’s sunglasses off.
There were dark shadows under Perry’s eyes, like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Perry
looked beyond terrified. He yanked his arm out of York’s grip, turning toward Caleb.
“C-Caleb. Come on, l-let’s go home.”
Perry grabbed at the backdoor, yanking it open. York grabbed his arm again, whirling
him around. What the hell am I doing?
They’d broken up. Perry wasn’t his anymore.
“Y-York, please.” Perry’s voice cracked.
He wriggled out of York’s grip. York fought down his own anger and betrayal. Didn’t
know what he wanted to say to Perry. He watched as Perry tucked Caleb into the car
seat.
Caleb looked confusedly between them. “Why don’t you kiss York anymore, Daddy?”
Perry froze. York stopped breathing. “Because,” Perry said shakily. “Because he doesn’t
want me to.”
What the hell kind of answer was that?
Perry shut the door and turned, and York grabbed him again. Wasn’t sure why. But
touching Perry—that made his nerves calm. “Why the hell aren’t you eating?” York
asked.
Perry tensed. He couldn’t meet York’s eyes. “It’s none of your business, is it?”
York growled. He wanted to shove Perry against the car to pin him down, except Perry
planted his hands on York’s chest and pushed him away.
Surprised by Perry’s desperation, York stepped back. He watched as Perry scrambled

for the driver’s side door, his limbs trembling. Perry tripped as he climbed into the
car—York hadn’t seen him this clumsy in a while. The first times had been when Perry
was flustered.
But Perry didn’t seem flustered now. Just scared.
Why are you scared? That wasn’t something people felt when they broke up. It didn’t feel
right, Perry being scared. He’d never been afraid with York before.
Perry started up the car. Without a backward glance, he drove out of the parking lot,
leaving York behind. Caleb waved.
York waved back, swallowing. He’d received no answers. Just more questions. Because
he doesn’t want me to. What, did Perry still want to kiss York?
He stared after the emerald of Perry’s car, the space around him far too empty. He
remembered Caleb saying, Daddy was watching you when I woke up. He remembered
Caleb whispering, Daddy says he loves you.
If Perry wanted York that much, then why did he fucking lie?
York growled, shoving Perry to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to feel unsettled,
thinking about that omega. He didn’t want to feel angry. Perry was losing weight, Perry
was moving out of Meadowfall.
It didn’t fucking matter. Except it also did, because now York couldn’t get Perry out of
his head.
He growled, stalking back to his car. Needed to do something aside from thinking
about Perry.
The thing was, Perry had already torn a hole in his heart. York didn’t know how he
could mend it again.
P ERRY STAGGERED into the department store, nausea rocking through his stomach. Not
again. I just ate a cracker.
It had been all he could swallow. His morning sickness had taken a turn for the worse
over the past week, and he was lucky if he could keep any fluids down. All I need is some
clothes and toys for Caleb. Then we’ll head to the clinic and get this sorted out.
The heat outside had made everything worse. The temperatures were supposed to
mellow out toward the end of summer, except the days were still sweltering. Perry had
felt too ill to do laundry. Caleb was outgrowing his clothes, anyway.
Children’s section. Then we can leave.
“Are we going to see York tomorrow?” Caleb chirped. “York says he’ll show me how to
play a game.”
Perry’s heart sank. After yesterday, he didn’t know how he could face York again. York
had looked furious. He’d grabbed Perry, and Perry had felt the blow coming. He’d
shoved York away and fled. The memory still made Perry’s stomach twist.
Maybe York hadn’t been about to hit him. Not in public, anyway. Perry trudged
through the store, wishing York had looked at him a little more kindly. Just so Perry
would have better memories before he and Caleb left Meadowfall next week.
They took the escalator up to the second floor. Perry found the omegas’ restroom. He
brought Caleb to the largest cubicle, then bent over the toilet, heaving out his breakfast.
“Daddy!” Caleb hurried to his side, tugging on his shirt. “Are you sick? York asked you
to see the doctor.”
Perry’s heart squeezed. He spat out the taste in his mouth, glancing at Caleb. “Are you
sure York said that?”
York couldn’t have. He didn’t care about Perry—York didn’t once look at him during
the last few times they’d met to exchange Caleb.
“Uh-huh.” Caleb nodded.
A deep yearning opened up in Perry’s chest. He buried it. I need to stop feeling so much for
York. I’ll just keep hurting.
He straightened to leave, except a spell of dizziness made him sway on his feet. He
flushed the toilet and sat down, waiting for his head to stop spinning.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Caleb looked uneasily at Perry.
“I’ll be fine soon,” Perry said. “I’m not feeling so great now, but we’ll go to the doctor,
and everything will be okay.”
Caleb nodded, chewing on his thumb.
Further away in the store, an old-school classroom bell began to ring—was it a fire
alarm? A fire drill? Perry closed his eyes, listening to the murmur of shoppers. It was
early in the day; there weren’t so many people around right now.
“Daddy? What’s that sound?” Caleb tugged on his sleeve.
“It’s a fire alarm,” Perry said. “Sometimes stores ring it just to test that it’s working,
when there’s not so many people—”
The PA system jingled to life. “Dear customers,” a man said. “There is currently a small fire
at the side of the building. We’re working to put it out. For your safety, we request that you
vacate our premises immediately.”
Outside the restroom, someone screamed. Voices rose. Perry winced, forcing himself to
his feet. “Looks like we’ll have to leave, too, hon.”
Caleb pouted. “But I want a rubber duckie!”
“I’m sorry,” Perry said. “That’ll have to wait.”
Another surge of nausea rocked through him. The toilet was right here. He turned,
heaving, except the nausea bowled him over. Perry clutched at the toilet, his head
spinning, his stomach heaving. He couldn’t even stand right now.
There was a fire. He needed to get Caleb to safety.
Perry emptied his stomach. He wobbled out of the bathroom with Caleb, staring at the
smoky, abandoned second floor. Only a few lights remained on. Had he spent too long
throwing up?
Part of the closest wall darkened, like a shadow was devouring it. Then flames licked
up the inside of the wall, bright orange and dangerous, and Perry stopped breathing.
The fire was spreading fast. “We have to go.”
He grabbed Caleb’s hand, hurrying to the escalator. One by one, they made it down the
frozen metal steps, Caleb navigating the stairs with ease. Perry leaned on the railing so
he didn’t slip and fall.
Thick smoke had filled the ground level, rising through the elevator well. Caleb
coughed. His eyes watering, Perry folded together a few layers of Caleb’s shirt to cover
his nose. “Breathe through your shirt, hon. You won’t cough so much this way.”
Caleb pressed the shirt against his nose. Perry held Caleb’s hand, his heart pounding.
Had everyone already left?
He trudged through the shadowy smoke, following the directions on the exit signs.
Display racks loomed up over them. Perry’s lungs burned, his head spun. He could
hardly breathe through his own shirt. Caleb was coughing again.
They wove past counters of cosmetics and shelves of electronics, getting turned around
by the directions. Perry stumbled over a bag that someone had dropped on the floor.
Then the exit glowed in the distance, a bright white rectangle that screamed safety.
Perry’s pulse quickened. “Almost there,” he told Caleb. There was even a straight path
to the exit. “We need to get to the door. Can you run there?”
Caleb nodded and sprinted forward. Perry followed, except his vision blacked out for a
second.
“Daddy?” Caleb asked.
Perry shook his head, trying to clear his sight. “I’m right behind you, hon. Hold your
breath and run to the door. Don’t stop. It’s a race!”
“Race!” Caleb cried, his little feet thudding across the floor.
Perry staggered after him. He tried to crouch to avoid the smoke, but the store turned
sideways. Perry lost his balance. Crashed onto the floor. The impact jolted pain through
his bones. Winded, he stopped and tried to catch his breath. Gulped down more smoke.
His limbs ached when he pushed his hands under himself, trying to get his body
upright again.
Caleb’s shadow was a speck against the exit. Then he was out the door, and Perry
sagged against the floor, relieved. Sirens blared somewhere outside the building. York
would be there. York would find their son and care for him, and Caleb would be fine.
Perry curled against the floor, too exhausted to move. But he had to—he had a baby in
his belly. York’s. His heart fluttered. He wrapped his arm around his belly, crawling to
the exit. His stomach roiled. Smoke scratched down his throat. Perry paused to cough,
and black specks scattered through his vision. He couldn’t breathe.
The exit seemed so very far away. The flames devoured the wall closest to him,
radiating heat into his skin. Perry closed his eyes. He was so very tired.
What would happen if the flames swallowed him right here? He would be free of his
guilt. But he wouldn’t get to watch Caleb grow up. He wouldn’t get to see York again,
even if York didn’t have anything nice to say to him. He wouldn’t get to see York’s
smile, he wouldn’t get to hear York’s laugh. He wouldn’t get to tell York I’m sorry and I
love you.
Perry trembled, his heart squeezing. Had it been worth it, pushing York away? He
wasn’t sure. York had been the most important person in his life. Still was, next to
Caleb. And it killed Perry that York only felt anger toward him now.
Faced with the growing flames to his side, and the smoke stealing breath from his
lungs, Perry wished he could take his words back. He wished he’d told York the truth
about his feelings. Spent a few more moments with his alpha. Maybe beg York to stay,
just for a bit. So Perry would know what it felt like to be loved again.
Gods, I want his love. I want it so much. Perry bit back his tears, crawling toward the exit.
If he made it out, maybe York would forgive him someday. If he was brave, maybe
York might not be so angry with him. If he could just get up and run to the exit, maybe
he would see York again.
Perry struggled to his feet, clutching his belly. He must’ve stood too fast, because his
vision went out, and his body hit the floor.
The last thing he remembered seeing was the light from the exit streaming through the
smoke. Then, his world went dark.
“D ID we need a blaze to make today even warmer?” Alec asked as they pulled on their
fire gear. “The answer is no.”
“Shut up and get moving, kid,” Gareth said, nodding York toward Truck Two. “Or
Dom’ll lay into your ass.”
“No, thanks,” Dom said. “You need some ass yourself, Gareth? You keep talking about
it. And there’s more mature ones around here. More than Alec, anyway.”
“Hey!” Alec pretended to be offended. “I’m mature!”
“Jesse’s your age, and he’s twice as mature as you,” Gareth shot back, completely
ignoring Dom.
“Get moving, guys,” Harris snapped, always the leader.
Everyone fell silent, hopping into the fire trucks. As they pulled out of the station, sirens
wailing, Harris announced their duties on this call. York fidgeted.
He hadn’t slept well last night. After meeting Perry yesterday, something had gotten
under his skin. The thinness of Perry’s body. Perry’s fear. Perry just straight up fleeing
from York. York needed to see him again. Just to reassure himself that he didn’t need to
step in, haul Perry to the doctor or something. Perry wasn’t his. He wasn’t.
We’ve broken up, York reminded himself. He’s free to see someone else.
Except that only made his hackles rise.
He tried not to think about Perry on the way to Pigeon’s, where the fire was. He failed
badly. Was Perry scared of York? York chewed on his lip, trying to think of other things
that could’ve unnerved Perry. He lied to me, damn it! I shouldn’t care.
Somehow, Perry’s lie was starting to matter less and less.
They arrived on-scene, black, murky smoke billowing into the sky. A crowd had begun
to gather around the store. People had their phones out, taking pictures.
There was a little kid wandering outside Pigeon’s, looking like he wanted to head back
into the smoke. York winced, climbing out of the truck. He jogged over to the kid—It
was Caleb. And Perry was nowhere to be seen.
York stopped breathing. He snapped his fingers to catch Caleb’s attention. “Hey,
buddy. Where’s your dad?”
“Inside.” Caleb peered into the smoke. “Daddy said we’re racing. But he’s still in there.”
“Do you remember where?”
Caleb shook his head.
York thought about the circles under Perry’s eyes, Perry so thin he was all skin and
bone. And Perry puking, Perry not being okay at all. Perry was in the burning building,
somewhere. How much smoke had he inhaled?
York’s blood grew cold. “Okay. You see the medic truck with the friendly alpha? Hey,
Brad!” Brad waved back. “Yup, that guy waving. Go to him. He’ll take care of you. I’ll
find your dad.”
York nudged Caleb toward Brad, staying long enough to see Caleb heading over. Then
he pulled on his helmet and strode into the smoke, his heart pounding.
Smoke had filled the entire ground level. York scanned the swirling gray clouds,
wondering where the hell Perry was. The department store was large. With every
minute it took to search for him, Perry would breathe in more smoke. And that reduced
his chances of survival.
York suppressed the unease crawling up his spine. He kept an eye out for other victims.
Looked like the staff had evacuated the building well. Except for Perry.
What the hell had he been doing in here? Puking?
Gods. That was exactly it, wasn’t it? York should’ve been here. He should’ve been
helping Perry.
“I’m looking for an omega,” York said into his radio. “Male, thin, in his late thirties. Tell
me if you find him.”
He hoped his nerves didn’t show in his voice. His radio echoed with a stream of Will
dos, and York continued his search.
He passed rows of scattered shoes, counters with cosmetics. Couldn’t see much further
ahead. He listened to the guys sweeping the second and third floors. Searched the aisles
closer to the fire.
Then he found a limp figure just off the main aisle, crumpled on the ground, short hair
tousled, limbs too thin. Is he—? York’s heart stopped. He strode forward, recognizing
the wispy dark hair, that sharp jaw. Perry couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.
Perry’s eyes were closed, dried tear tracks stark against his sooty face. York dropped
into a crouch next to him. Perry’s chest rose; he was alive right now. York sucked in a
sharp breath—it was scant relief.
How much longer did he have to save Perry? What if it was already too late? York’s
stomach dropped.
“I found him,” he rasped into his radio.
Then he gathered Perry into his arms—Perry was way too fucking light—and set off for
the exit.
Each step felt like an eternity. York cradled his omega close, and thought about the
possibilities. Because he had to. Because he’d seen other firefighters lose their victims. If
he lost Perry right here in his arms, if Perry just slipped through his fingers... Something
in York’s chest threatened to break, more than it already had.
York remembered Perry flustered, eager for his attention. He remembered Perry
hugging Caleb, all soft eyes and delighted smiles. He remembered FrogPrince typing
Sometimes I wonder why we’re all in this world, and he remembered the answer he never
told Prince: I know why you’re here. Because you make me smile. Because you complete me.
If Perry disappeared off the face of this world... then York would shatter, because Perry
had always been the Sun to his Earth.
I shouldn’t have left you at all. I don’t care anymore if you lied. I should’ve just forgiven you and
moved on.
Because that was what Perry had tried to ask for. When he’d said Don’t you think it’s
better to forgive and move on? When people regret their past actions?
He hadn’t been talking about Cole. He’d been talking about himself.
Perry had begged York to forgive him, and York had just... refused. Gods, I’ve been such a
bastard.
Daylight broke over him as he stepped through the exit, and into the parking lot. His
throat tight with fear, York headed for the medic truck.
Brad looked up from treating someone else. York set Perry gently on the ground, his
heart almost bursting. “My omega,” York rasped, his hands shaking. “Please. He’s been
in there a while.”
Brad looked Perry over, his lips thinning. It wasn’t a good sign. York swallowed hard.
Caleb shuffled over, an oxygen mask on his face. “Daddy?” He shook Perry, looking
worriedly up at York. “Will Daddy be okay?”
York couldn’t answer. He wet his lips, watching as Brad gave Perry a swift injection.
Brad pressed an oxygen mask over Perry’s face. “I’m doing my best to help him be
fine,” Brad answered.
“I hope so,” York croaked.
“Okay.” Caleb reached over, smushing his small palm against York’s cheek. “Don’t
cry.”
York swallowed hard, nodding.
A long minute passed. Perry breathed, his chest rising and falling. Some color returned
to his cheeks. York couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted Perry to wake. It was
illogical, but he wanted Perry to know he was there. He wanted Perry to look at him.
Just so he’d know there was a chance that they’d end up together again.
York fidgeted, knowing he was supposed to return to the fire.
“Get back in there.” Brad nodded toward the building. “I’ve got this.”
York made himself stand. He made himself listen to Harris’ orders. They cleared all
levels of Pigeon’s. Then the firefighters on hose duty doused the flames, and York
returned to the medic truck, his heart missing a beat when he found Perry sitting up,
conscious, breathing in oxygen. Relief rolled through York, easing the boulder off his
chest.
He hurried over, too many words on his lips. But as he neared his omega, he realized
that Perry had grown tense, his lips pressed tightly together. Brad and Nate were next
to him, speaking over another victim.
Had Brad and Nate said something to make Perry uncomfortable? York growled,
pulling off his helmet, striding over to the medic truck. Or was Perry uneasy because—
because he didn’t trust alphas?
Gods, I shouldn’t have left you alone. York strode up to Perry, intent on shielding him from
Brad and Nate.
Perry turned. Instead of relief, his eyes grew wide with terror. He scrambled away from
York, knocking his oxygen mask askew, the asphalt dragging red lines across his palms.
“Please don’t hurt me. Please, please—”
York froze, his heart sinking. You’re scared of... me? Did Perry think... that York would
hurt him like his previous alphas had? All because Perry had lied? He did, didn’t he?
Fuck, I should’ve known.
York stepped closer. Perry leaned away, whimpering. Brad and Nate turned to stare.
Damn it. York dropped to a crouch, setting his helmet down. “Perry, look—I’m sorry.
I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He spread his palms open, facing up. Perry glanced at them, then back at York. He
blinked hard, and York thought he saw yearning flash through Perry’s eyes. You still
want me? Had Caleb been telling the truth?
“I forgive you,” York murmured, shuffling closer. “What happened—it’s in the past,
okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”
He took another step forward, slowly, shucking his gloves. Then he extended his hand
to Perry. Hoping Perry would take him back again.
“You—You don’t mind?” Perry croaked, his gaze uncertain.
York shook his head. “No. I don’t mind. I still love you, you know.”
Perry sucked in a shuddering breath, his entire body quivering. “Oh,” he whispered.
“But you’re—you’re angry.”
“Not anymore, I’m not. See?” York wriggled his fingers. “I want you to hold my hand.”
He stopped breathing. Just hoping Perry would respond.
Ever so slowly, Perry reached out, touching York’s fingertips. Gently, still afraid. But
the skin contact washed over York like a wave, like electricity, and York could finally
breathe again.
He took Perry’s hand. Pressed the back of it against his forehead, the way the Frog
Island characters did for their royalty. Perry’s eyes grew wide. Tears welled up in his
eyes, and he bit his lip hard, trying to stop himself from crying.
Gods, York never wanted Perry to cry again. He surged forward, wrapping his arms
around Perry. Perry squeaked. York pulled him close, so they were chest-to-chest,
Perry’s heart beating against his own.
“Back there,” York breathed. “Back there, I thought—When I found you on the floor, I
thought I’d lost you.” His voice broke, saying that. “I can’t lose you, okay?”
Perry whimpered, leaning into York. His oxygen mask had been knocked askew, but
his warmth was so welcome against York’s cheek, his tulip-and-honey scent heaven in
York’s lungs. “Do you—really mean that?” Perry mumbled, tears rolling down his face.
“Don’t cry,” York murmured, leaning away so he could press the oxygen mask back
over Perry’s nose. “You need to breathe. Please.”
Perry shook against him. “I’m sorry,” Perry rasped, his voice muffled behind the mask.
“I was so afraid that—that you’d hit me after you found out.”
York’s heart squeezed. “I’m never gonna do that,” he growled. “Swear to all the gods.
I’m not like those bastards. I shouldn’t even have left you.”
He cupped Perry’s face, brushing away Perry’s tears with his thumbs. Pressed their
foreheads awkwardly together, the oxygen mask between them.
“You’re still the most damn beautiful person in the world,” York murmured.
Perry trembled, his tears dripping along the edge of the mask. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I
shouldn’t have lied. I lied so much, York.”
“I don’t care.” York ran his thumb down Perry’s throat, his breath hitching. “Please tell
me you’ll be my omega again.”
Perry trembled. “You want me to?”
“Yeah.” Like there was even another answer to that. “I love you.”
Perry choked up. “I love you, too.”
York’s ears rang. Perry loved him. “Really? Caleb said you did and I just—I didn’t
believe him.”
Perry’s face grew a delicious shade of pink. “He’s not supposed to tell you that.”
Something rumbled in York’s chest, something that felt like delight and satisfaction.
And relief. “You said you didn’t love me.”
Perry bit his lip. “I’m sorry I lied about that. I just—I thought you’d find someone better
than me. There’s so many omegas out there, York.”
“Gods, no.” York buried his fingers in Perry’s hair, holding him as close as he possibly
could. This felt like a dream come true. Perry loved him. “No one’s more perfect than
you. I want you to believe that.”
“And—and.” Perry shook harder. “And I didn’t tell you about Caleb. When I conceived
him. I lied about the BC. I wasn’t on any. I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t?
“And with this new one, too.” Perry glanced at his belly. “I’m sorry for being so easy. I
just—”
“Why the fuck would you say you’re easy?” York glowered.
Perry’s breath hitched. “Because—I met Ron and I just—”
“Fuck that bastard,” York hissed. “No, don’t fuck him. But I don’t want you listening to
any shit he says.”
“But—” Perry looked genuinely uneasy. “You didn’t even have to convince me. I just...
fell into your bed.”
“Did I complain about that?” York growled.
“Well, no, but—” Perry squirmed.
“Have you fallen as easily into anyone else’s bed?”
“No.” Perry squirmed harder. “Just—Just yours.”
A new sort of rumbling began in York’s chest. “So you just want to be in my bed,
carrying my babies.”
Perry nodded, his cheeks red.
York growled, dragging his wrist down Perry’s throat. He wanted his scent all over
Perry. Thoroughly, until it never faded from his skin. “Mine. Soon as you get some food
into you, Prince, I’m gonna make you mine again.”
Hope flickered in Perry’s eyes. “Gods, I’m so—so terrible—”
“You’re mine. Not terrible. Not at all.” His heart too full, York pulled Perry’s oxygen
mask off. Just for a second. Then he slanted his lips against Perry’s and kissed him, and
Perry gasped, opening for York like he needed air, and York was the one to give it to
him.
Perry tasted like smoke and morning sickness. York couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Perry was his. He slipped his tongue inside Perry’s mouth, learning his omega again.
Just tangling with him, tasting him. Dragging his wrists down Perry’s body, marking
Perry with his scent. Making sure Perry knew who he belonged to, making sure Perry
would never think about leaving again.
“Mine,” York whispered. “Don’t lie to me anymore. There’s no reason to.”
Perry met his eyes, still a little uncertain.
“No matter how angry I get, I swear I’m not gonna hurt you.” When Perry looked a
little more convinced, York asked, “I’ve never hurt you, have I?”
Perry shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “You haven’t.”
“You’re gonna believe me, then? You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Perry bit his lip, breathing deeply. He thought about York’s words. He bowed his head.
“Yes,” Perry finally said, his voice ragged. “I believe you.”
“Good.” Relieved, York kissed him slow and sweet, then pressed the oxygen mask back
over Perry’s face. Needed Perry to heal as quickly as he could.
Perry blushed. And that was the best sight in the world.
“What’s ‘fuck’?” Caleb asked to the side.
York froze, meeting Perry’s eyes. Crap. He hadn’t thought Caleb would be listening to
all of this.
Perry looked at York, all deer-in-headlights. Then he gave a tiny smile. “Yes, tell us,
York. What is it?” And under his breath, Perry whispered, “He’s your son, too.”
Gods, York wanted to tackle Perry to the ground and kiss the hell out of him. “It’s a bad
word,” York told Caleb, looking him in the eye. “Only adults say it. And we only use it
for very bad things.”
“What kind of bad things?” Caleb frowned.
Perry looked pointedly at York, biting down his smile. Yeah, York would show Perry
the other meanings of ‘fuck’. But in private.
“Bad people,” York told Caleb. “And things that go very, very wrong. But you
shouldn’t say it too much, or it loses its meaning.”
“And you should only say it when you’re grown up,” Perry added.
“Tomorrow?” Caleb brightened.
York snorted. “No, when you’re eighteen years old.”
Caleb sagged. “That’s forever away.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have taught him that.” Perry laughed. It was the first time in a
while that York had heard it, and it made his heart swell.
“It’s not forever.” York grinned, ruffling Caleb’s hair. “You’ll be eighteen before you
know it.”
Caleb brightened, pushing his glasses up his nose.
The crowd gave a cheer when the last of the fire went out. York glanced up, half-guilty
that he’d completely forgotten about being on-call. Harris shot him an exasperated look.
Gareth gave York a thumbs-up, eyebrows raised. So York grinned and gave a thumbs-
up back.
Things were good again. Perry was recovering, Perry loved York, and York couldn’t wait
to bring his omega home, and mark him all over.
If they could just get Perry’s ex out of the picture, well. That would be the honey on the
cake. In the jar. In Perry’s mouth. Yeah.
York grinned. He couldn’t wait to get Perry alone, all to himself.

P ERRY WAS DREAMING . In his dream, York was brushing his fingers through Perry’s
hair, his eyes ever so warm as he smiled. He said something Perry couldn’t hear, but it
didn’t matter, because York was here, he wasn’t angry, and everything was good.
A soft noise sounded, like a door closing. Perry stirred, unwilling to leave his dream.
He wanted York to be happy with him. In the real world, when he woke... York
wouldn’t be there, would he? He’d still be angry with Perry.
His heart sinking, Perry huddled into his pillows, wincing when it smelled too much
like disinfectant. He was in a hospital. His throat itched. He moved his hand, except
there was resistance against the back of it. Something taped to his skin. Why was he
here?
He squeezed his eyes to keep them shut. He wanted to stay in his dream for a little
longer, where everything was still safe.
Footsteps. More than one pair of feet? Someone touched his hair. Large fingers cupped
the back of his head. Then someone kissed his forehead, a soft touch, and warm breath
rustled through his hair.
“Morning, beautiful. Gonna bring you home today. You ready to wake yet?”
It was York. Perry’s pulse skipped; his eyes flew open. Sure enough, York was there,
just inches away, his blue eyes shining warmly down at Perry. Perry’s heart almost
leaped out of his chest.
York huffed. “You’re still doing that. What, surprised that I’m here?”
“Yes,” Perry croaked, raking his eyes down York’s face. He couldn’t get enough of
York’s smile, his strong jaw, his kind gaze. York had returned. After five whole weeks
without his alpha, this still felt so alien to him.
“Maybe I should give you a marking so you remember,” York murmured, stroking the
scent gland at the crook of Perry’s neck.
Perry’s pulse stumbled. Gods, he wanted that so much. York rumbled in approval.
“Morning, Daddy!” Caleb squirmed between them, leaning in to give Perry a kiss.
Perry’s heart swelled for them both.
It had been three days since the fire. York had accompanied Perry and Caleb to the
hospital—Perry had been admitted for smoke inhalation and severe morning sickness.
York had brought Caleb home when the nurses told them they couldn’t stay the night.
Then he’d given Perry a video call, and Perry had watched his alpha and son putter
around York’s apartment until Caleb had fallen asleep.
York had brought the call into his bedroom. He’d given Perry a bit of a show, until
Perry’s throat had gone dry, and York had growled in his ear, This is gonna be all yours
when you get home. Perry had all but creamed his hospital pants. York had sounded far
too pleased about it.
“You look better today,” York murmured, stroking his palm down Perry’s side.
“Healthier.”
Perry blushed. He’d been on an IV diet this whole time—it was such a change not
having to struggle with food for a while. And listening to York’s voice at night had
lulled him into a far deeper sleep than he’d managed over the last few weeks.
“You helped,” Perry said.
York smiled, scooping Perry into a sitting position. “Ready to go home? I’ve moved
most of your things into my place. Caleb’s, too.”
I can’t believe I’m moving in with York. Perry wet his lips, his heart pounding. “I am.”
“I helped!” Caleb beamed.
“Well done, hon!” Perry heaved Caleb onto the bed, hugging him. “I missed you so
much.”
“I missed you, too.” Caleb gave Perry a sloppy kiss.
“Hey, what about me?” York pretended to pout. Perry laughed, trying and failing to
bite down his smile. York leaned in, pressing a kiss to Perry’s lips. His eyes darkened.
“I’m gonna see if the doc will discharge you. Gonna bring you home. Our bed needs to
smell like you, too.”
Perry’s heart skipped a beat. York held his gaze, tracing his knuckles down Perry’s jaw.
Then he pushed away, heading out of the ward.
“What’s your favorite color?” Caleb asked. “York asked me, but I didn’t know. So he
asked me to ask you.”
Perry chuckled. “Green. Why? What’s his?”

Blue, if Perry remembered right.
Caleb shrugged. “I don’t know. Does York like rings? He was looking at lots of rings on
his computer.”
Perry’s heart stopped. York could have been shopping for rings for himself. “Did he say
who the ring is for?”
Caleb shook his head. Perry thought about asking York later, except... maybe he was
assuming too much. Perry hadn’t moved in yet. York hadn’t given him a bonding mark,
even though he’d promised to.
Maybe he’s just giving one to his dad, Perry told himself. It’s not about you. Except... Why
ask Caleb that question, then?
A while later, York returned, smiling wide. “You’re gonna get discharged real soon,” he
said, dragging his wrist down Perry’s jaw. “I’ll take Caleb to childcare first. Then I’ll be
back for you. To bring you home.”
Perry nodded, his heart thumping impatiently. He’d waited for York for weeks.
Another half-hour wasn’t so bad.
Even then, he fidgeted. Perry was tired of being alone in the hospital ward, he was tired
of worrying about the next deadline on the Therapist Prototype. Just one last
presentation before he handed the Therapist over to his sponsors. Then they’d take it
into limited production for testing, and it would be out of Perry’s hands.
It felt like his baby was growing up and leaving the nest.
Stranger still—Perry was no longer so sorry to wave The Boyfriend goodbye. He didn’t
need it anymore. Especially when York stepped back into the ward, his eyes lit with
excitement. “Ready to go?”
“Yes,” Perry breathed, stepping into his shoes. “I’ve been discharged and ready for a
while.”
York swept his gaze down Perry’s front, his attention heavy on Perry’s skin. Perry
gulped. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. York bringing him home, York
still loving him.
“C’mon,” York murmured, grabbing Perry’s duffel bag. He wrapped his arm around
Perry’s waist, sweeping him through the hospital.
“You’re familiar with this place,” Perry breathed.

“I’ve been visiting you for three days straight.” York smiled crookedly. “Then again, I
desperately need you home, Prince. I’ve got every route mapped out in my head.”
Perry’s face grew warm. It felt so nice to be wanted. And he was suddenly glad that he
had all of today written off on medical leave, too. “I don’t suppose you have any pure
intentions for this afternoon.”
York grinned, his gaze growing dark. “By ‘pure’, do you mean honey? That’s pure,
right?”
Perry laughed. “I can’t think of honey without all my thoughts going into the gutter.”
“Hardworking bees collect that stuff. It’s all sparkling and golden. Of course it’s pure.
And awesome.” York pulled Perry close, sweeping him out through the front doors of
the hospital. Then he lowered his lips to Perry’s ear. “‘Specially if it gets your pretty
mouth wrapped around my cock.”
Perry gulped, his blood rushing between his legs. “York! We’re in public!”
York grinned. “All hard for me? That’s good, you know. Means everyone knows you’re
mine.”
Perry licked his lips, trying to think of a decent response. Then someone moved in the
periphery of his vision—someone that looked unpleasantly familiar. Someone Perry
wished wasn’t here right now.
“Leaving so soon?” Ron asked snidely, striding up. He scanned Perry from head to toe.
“Your coworkers said you were in the hospital.”
Perry cringed, stepping back. York’s gaze felt like melted butter, but Ron’s was just...
slimy.
Next to Perry, York tensed. He reached into his pocket, pressing a tiny, blinking device
into Perry’s palm. It looked like a flash drive. “Hold this,” York said, setting Perry’s
duffel bag on the ground. “Don’t move.”
Then York stepped in front of Perry, fists clenched. “Perry’s my omega. Hasn’t he told
you to stop following him around?”
“He seemed to like listening to me,” Ron sneered, cracking his knuckles.
Perry flinched. Hoped that Ron wouldn’t start telling York about all Perry’s faults.
York glimpsed Perry’s reaction, his eyes flashing. “Really? Like he needed to hear you
degrading him—that’s not how you treat a person. Much less, an omega.”
Perry’s heart fluttered. Maybe I should believe in York. Maybe York truly loves all of me.
“That’s between me and him,” Ron retorted.
“So when you beat him up, that was also between you and him?” York growled, his
voice dangerously quiet.
“He didn’t say no.” Ron raised his eyebrows, looking innocent.
Perry’s stomach turned. The memory made his body hurt all over. “I did. I told him to
stop.”
“Your opinion doesn’t matter,” Ron snapped.
“You slimeball,” York hissed.
Then he lunged at Ron and punched him hard in the jaw, and again in the stomach.
“That’s for hurting someone who can’t fight back,” York snarled, pummeling Ron in the
side of the head, catching him off-guard. “That’s for hurting someone you’re supposed
to protect.”
“Protect? What the fuck are you talking about?” Ron swore and punched York in the
gut; York grunted. Perry couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want York to get hurt.
York grasped Ron’s neck and wrestled him to the ground. Then he smashed Ron’s face
into concrete, and there was a sickening crunch. Blood flowed freely from Ron’s nose.
Perry bit down his fear, his heart pounding. Would York get into trouble for this?
“How did he hurt you, Perry?” York growled, his expression so murderous that Perry
almost feared for Ron’s life.
“H-he whipped me,” Perry admitted.
“Drew blood?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“He threw me against the wall. And—and I hit my head.” Perry trembled, unable to
tear his eyes off York and Ron.
York’s grip tightened around Ron’s throat. Ron choked, struggling to breathe.
“What else?” York snarled, his eyes burning.

“He tore my hair out.” Phantom pain prickled Perry’s scalp, a whisper compared to the
agony of Ron’s torment.
York grabbed Ron’s hair, tilting Ron’s head so far back that his Adam’s apple bobbed
starkly against his throat. “Do you deny any of that?”
“Why should I?” Ron bit back, his eyes bulging out.
“I hope no omega ever falls into your filthy hands again,” York snapped, slamming
Ron’s face into the sidewalk. The force of it looked hard enough to crack Ron’s skull.
Perry gulped, trembling when York stood, striding over. There was blood on his hands.
York took the blinking flash drive from Perry’s open palm. He glanced at Ron, who
squinted up at them, his entire face bloodied.
“Fuck you,” Ron spat.
York waved the flash drive at him. “This is a voice recorder. I’m handing it to the
police. You can argue with them about it. But if you ever approach my omega again, or
if you ever threaten him, then there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
York pushed a button on the device, and it stopped blinking. He shoved it into his
pocket. Wrapped his arm back around Perry’s waist, and spat on Ron as they passed
him.
Perry gulped, his heart thumping. For years, he’d been hit by alphas, too weak to fight
back. He’d never thought that someone would stand up for him, that someone would
volunteer to be hurt, if it would keep those alphas away.
York had hurt Ron, too, badly. But at his angriest, he’d never struck Perry even once.
And now Ron wouldn’t threaten Perry again.
Gods, York. I owe you so much. His throat tight, Perry linked his fingers with York’s. “Are
you... sure you won’t get into trouble for that?”
York smiled—he looked every bit as dangerous as he’d just been. “I looked up the laws
just to be sure. Alphas can kill to defend their omegas. I just didn’t feel like doing that
right now.”
Perry’s heart skipped. “You would’ve killed for me.”
“Yeah.” York’s gaze scorched. “A hundred times over, just for you.”
That was... flattering. And incredible. It felt like Perry’s safe place had just become a
thousand times safer than before. Perry blushed. I mean that much to him.
York grinned. “You get shy over that?”
“I’m not... used to this,” Perry mumbled.
“Better get used to it,” York rumbled, sliding his hand over Perry’s hip. “I’m gonna
bring you home right now, and I’m gonna make you all mine. Last chance to back out.”
“I’m not.” A laugh bubbled up through Perry’s chest, taking his uncertainties away
with it. “I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”
“Yeah,” York growled, his voice dipping low. “I’ll have every inch you’re willing to
give. And by the time I’m done, you’ll have my name burned into your lips. Mine,
Perry. All mine.”
S IX MONTHS INTO HIS PREGNANCY , Perry looked gorgeous. His morning sickness had
faded away. He’d put on weight where it counted, and York hadn’t once grown tired of
kissing down his spine, Perry’s skin warm and dry against his lips, or damp and salty,
or sticky with come.
Right now, Perry lay stretched out on their bed, his legs spread wide open, his ass up in
the air. “Inside, York. I need—”
York growled, dragging his wrists down Perry’s sides. Then, the gear tattoo on his back.
Perry’s sweat mingled with his own, his body flushed and ready, his musk thick
between them.
“York, please,” Perry whispered, his voice hoarse. He’d been screaming through the last
few hours. Good thing it was a long weekend.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” York rasped, pumping his own cock. Needed it to stop aching
for a bit. “Just a bit more. Wanna taste you.”
“You’ve already tasted me,” Perry whimpered, wrapping his fingers around his flushed
cock. “I need to come. Please.”
York pulled Perry’s hand away, leaving his cock straining and ravenous. He looked so
good like that. Especially when it shoved up against Perry’s round belly, and Perry
couldn’t even see his own cock anymore. “All right. You want my cock?”
“Yes!” Perry’s voice broke with relief. He looked over his shoulder, his face falling
when he caught York’s grin. “You’re not... giving it to me?”
“Slowly.” York pulled Perry back so Perry settled onto his lap, York’s cock wedging
between his sinful, damp cheeks. Perry groaned, grinding down. Bliss shot down
York’s spine; he hissed and held Perry still. Any more of that, and he would bend Perry
over, and thrust into that sweet, tight ass of his. Make Perry take every last inch. Perry
would sob and rock down, moaning like York’s cock was the best thing in the world.
York swallowed dryly, holding Perry flush against his chest. Slow down. We’ve got plans.
Whose bright idea was it to propose during sex, anyway?
Perry had no clue what would happen tonight.

York peeked over his omega’s shoulder, cupping Perry’s belly. It was now half the size
of a basketball. Round with their baby. Felt good, knowing Perry was carrying York’s
child. And York’s markings.
“Mine,” York whispered, kissing Perry’s shoulder. Then he bit into it, tearing a moan
from Perry’s throat.
“York—”
York throbbed. “Always so hungry for me.” He tweaked Perry’s hard nipples; Perry
writhed, his nails biting into York’s forearms. Gods, York could come, just from the way
Perry responded to him. “Always so sensitive.”
“You keep teasing,” Perry whined.
“You know I love the way you moan,” York growled. “And you keep doing it.”
He trailed his fingers up the underside of Perry’s cock. It jerked hungrily against him,
and Perry whimpered, tipping his head back against York’s shoulder.
“Fuck, Prince.”
Perry thrust up at York’s fingers. “Fuck me.”
“Soon.” York abandoned Perry’s cock, stroking his omega’s chest, then his sides. He
slid his wrists down Perry’s arms, to the markings he’d left a few months ago. Every
day, Perry would look at York’s silvery teeth marks on his wrists, and smile to himself.
It felt good, knowing Perry liked being his so much.
“You haven’t marked the last one yet,” Perry whispered.
The scent gland on his neck. York had been saving it for last. For today.
“What if... I marked it tonight?” York murmured, brushing his fingertips over that
sensitive spot.
Perry’s eyes grew wide; he stopped breathing. “You—You will?”
“Yeah. But not before I give you the full set.”
Perry groaned. He knew what the full set of markings entailed: bites, hickeys, scents,
and York’s come inside his ass. “Please.”
“Please what?” York rasped, his blood thrumming for his omega.
“Make me yours.” Perry arched his back, shoving his ass against York. A growl
rumbled through York’s chest, unbidden. He pinned Perry against the bed, holding him
down, dragging his wrists over Perry’s chest, his sides, every bit of skin he could reach.
So Perry smelled like hickory, and no one would dare challenge who his alpha was.
Perry leaned into York’s touch, desperate. York sucked a hickey into his shoulder.
Raked his teeth against Perry’s salty skin. Perry panted, reaching down again.
“I told you,” York murmured, grabbing Perry’s hand. “My cock. You don’t come until I
say so.”
Perry whined, rolling his hips. Begging to be impaled. Fuck. York sank his teeth into
Perry’s skin. Perry cried out, his musk flooding York’s lungs. Gods, York could barely
restrain himself.
He flipped Perry onto his back. Kissed down Perry’s chest, all over his round belly, then
down his thighs. York caught Perry’s knees and shoved them open, exposing his cock
and sac, his pink, puckered hole. Perry shuddered, spreading his cheeks, his gaze
burning all the way to York’s balls.
York panted, needing to unload his seed inside his omega. Claim him inside. He kissed
down Perry’s thighs. Sucked lovebites into his skin, over and over, until a constellation
of his markings dotted that creamy skin, and Perry’s cock leaked a trail of precome
down his belly.
Then he pressed his lips to the top of Perry’s inner thigh, Perry’s velvety sac brushing
his cheek, Perry’s warmth burning into his skin. York bit down lightly, just enough to
leave a faint imprint of his teeth. Perry’s cock jerked; his spine arched. “York—”
And York bit all over his thighs, leaving his teeth marks between the hickeys, until
Perry’s skin was covered by his markings. All his.
“Wanna come for me?” York murmured, closing his fingers around Perry’s thick,
ravenous cock.
Perry’s breath punched out of his lungs. York ground his wrist down Perry’s cock,
leaving his scent all over it. Perry jerked, scrabbling at the bed. His entire chest had
flushed pink, and his slick dripped onto the bed, soaking into the sheets.
“Gonna lube me up with your come,” York murmured. Then he closed his mouth
around Perry’s musky cock, pushed two fingers into Perry’s slippery hole, and found
his prostate. Massaged him there, hard.
Perry spasmed and cried out, his bitter come filling York’s mouth, his body arching off
the bed. York’s throat went dry. Gods. It was always so sweet, watching Perry cream
himself.
He squeezed Perry’s cock, milking every last drop out of his omega. Then, as Perry
panted to catch his breath, York emptied the mix of Perry’s come and his own saliva
into his hand, smearing it all over his cock. This was one of York’s favorite lubes,
especially when it was all going into Perry, marking him inside.
His head propped up on a pillow, Perry watched as York swirled the come around his
cock. Perry’s throat worked; his eyes grew dark.
“Ready for it?” York rasped, pinning Perry’s legs wide open.
“Yes. Please,” Perry croaked, presenting for York again. His hole relaxed, an invitation.
The last of York’s patience frayed. He surged forward, pushing his tip against Perry’s
entrance, snapping his hips so he sank into that tight, sweet heat, Perry’s body opening
around him, sucking him in, begging him for his come.
York almost couldn’t breathe. Perry squeezed, sending jolts of electricity down York’s
spine. It was all York could do not to pin Perry down and hammer into him, chase that
bliss inside his omega.
He leaned in, panting with the force of restraining himself. Kissed Perry deep, sliding
into his mouth, tangling their tongues. Rolled his hips so his cock stroked Perry inside,
marking him with their fluids.
“More,” Perry groaned, his nails raking down York’s back. “York, York—”
Perry looked disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his pupils blown wide. York fucked into
him hard, just once, and a sweet moan tore from Perry’s throat.
It broke York’s plans to go slow. Shattered his control. York growled, hefting Perry’s
legs up so there was no barrier to pounding inside him, shoving every inch of his cock
inside his omega, pushing in deep so he could flood Perry full with his come.
Perry writhed, taking him. York aimed for Perry’s prostate, sometimes massaging it,
sometimes missing. Perry’s cock grew thick, his legs trembling, his chest heaving as he
tried to suck in air. York gave a savage thrust. Perry’s breath rushed out, turning into
gasps as York brought him to the edge again, Perry shuddering with the overload of
sensations in his body.
Perry was so damn beautiful, and hot, and perfect, and York couldn’t tear his eyes
away. He was supposed to be doing something else. He couldn’t remember what it was
right now.
“Want my come?” York panted, snapping his hips.

“Yes,” Perry hissed, grasping at York, trying to keep him inside.
“Want me to give you another baby?”
“Gods, yes!” Perry shook harder, precome spurting from his cock. That really turned
him on, didn’t it?
York held Perry down, increasing the speed of his thrusts, the friction between them
humming through his veins. “I’m gonna fill you so full, you’ll get pregnant again,”
York growled, his cock swelling inside his omega, his balls pulling tight, heavy with
come. “Gonna give you all the babies you want. Gonna knock you up right now, Perry.”
It didn’t make sense. But Perry arched and tensed, his face scrunching up, his body
pulling tight, pearly fluid spurting from his cock as he came a second time. York swore,
the sight hauling him over the edge, his balls clenching as pleasure seared through him
and he unloaded into Perry, pulse after pulse, his focus narrowing down to the omega
beneath him—his.
“Mine,” York rasped as he waited for his senses to right themselves again. “Just in case
you didn’t know.”
Perry laughed softly, nuzzling York’s jaw. York kissed Perry’s forehead. Then his
temple and his cheek, and down his ear, to his throat. To the scent gland at the crook of
his neck, covered with bites from other alphas, but not York’s. Not yet.
Damn it. He’d been planning on proposing earlier than this. I can’t believe I forgot. Except
Perry was enough to make him forget most things, really. York swallowed his
annoyance at himself.
Perry’s breath hitched when York kissed the scent gland at his neck, just letting his lips
rest against it. “York?”
“Gonna mark you tonight,” York murmured, leaning back just far enough to meet
Perry’s eyes. His breath snagged in his throat. “Feel free to tell me no.”
Perry frowned in dismay. “No! I mean, yes! I mean—I want your mark. This isn’t
enough. Did you think it was?”
Then he blushed, and gods, York loved this man so much.
He cradled Perry close, catching his soft, warm lips. Fumbled under the pillow on the
far side of the bed—he’d figured Perry wouldn’t stick his hand there.
“York?” Perry’s eyes fluttered open.

“I was gonna show you this in the middle of making you scream,” York said dryly.
“But it kind of slipped my mind.”
He closed his fingers around the little metal band, its surface cool to the touch. Then he
brought it between them, and pressed it against Perry’s nipple. Covered it up with his
fingers.
Okay, and now York was nervous. He’d lost count of how many times he’d run this
through his head.
“I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly. “I thought about sliding it up your cock, then I
thought about putting it in your belly button. Then I thought I’d show it to you while I
was fucking into you from behind, except I wanted to see your face.”
Perry’s gaze had locked onto York’s fingers, his eyes growing wide.
“Or I was gonna dip my cock into honey,” York said. “And then put it on top. Kind of
like icing on the cake, you know?”
Perry choked on his laugh. “You... what?”
“Gods, wait. I need to do that.” Because it was crazy, and how many times did an alpha
propose in his life, anyway?
York slid out of Perry, slowing down so he could ease his growing knot out. Then he
jogged to the bedroom door and opened it, peeking into the hallway. Caleb’s door was
closed—he was still asleep. Good.
Not caring that he was bare-assed naked, York jogged to the kitchen and found a new
jar of honey. Grabbed a bowl and poured half of it out, because Perry would yell at him
if he went and wasted half the jar and made a sticky mess all over the kitchen. Well,
Perry wouldn’t. Still not nice to leave a mess, unless it involved Perry creaming all over.
York brought the half-full jar back to the bedroom, the ring clasped safely in his hand.
Then he shut the door behind himself, and crawled back onto the bed.
“York Davis,” Perry murmured, raking his gaze down York’s body, then the honey jar.
“What are you—”
“I’m doing something special,” York said, grinning. He tried to stifle his nerves. Maybe
he was messing this up real bad.
He shoved his cock into the honey jar, swirling it around to get an even coating. This jar
was a bit smaller and didn’t fit all of him, but it didn’t matter right now—he let his cock
spring back up, glistening with golden honey, trails of the sticky fluid trickling down
onto his knot.
Then he set the jar aside and carefully balanced the ring on the tip of his cock, pressing
it down so it stuck. Perry stared, disbelief scrawled through his face.
“This is... not how I expected to be proposed to.” Perry bit down a laugh.
“I’m twenty-three,” York said, his heart stuck in his throat. “I’m allowed to be young
and stupid, right?”
But Perry was smiling, he was blinking hard, meeting York’s eyes. “You know we can’t
tell our children this story.”
And that wasn’t an outright no. There was still hope.
So York shuffled forward, straddling Perry’s lap, taking Perry’s hands in his own.
“Sorry. Maybe I’m still the kid you met nine years ago.”
And maybe that was a dealbreaker for Perry.
But Perry squeezed York’s fingers and didn’t let go. “Did you know?” Perry murmured.
“You were the very first alpha I wasn’t afraid of. Maybe it was because we first met
online. Maybe it was because you were young. But I just... felt as though it was okay to
talk with you. You were just so polite.”
York cracked a smile. “Dad taught me that. Said if I wasn’t gonna be polite, people were
going to be rude right back at me.”
“I feel as though I should be guilty, you know?” Perry leaned closer, holding York’s
hand against his chest. “You were young and impressionable. I could have influenced
you in any number of ways.”
“I don’t care. It just led me right to you.”
Perry swallowed hard. York stroked Perry’s chest, and felt Perry’s heart quicken. “You
don’t care that I might’ve shaped who you are?”
“I’m happy,” York answered. “Does it matter?”
Perry thought about it for a long moment. “I guess it doesn’t.”
York cupped Perry’s jaw, marveling at his soft eyes, his pink lips. The fall of Perry’s
wispy hair over his forehead, and his slim, beautiful body. Even if Perry said no to
marrying, York was still his alpha. And he could still show Perry how much he loved
all of him. He could still protect Perry with everything he had.
“You were never married,” York said.
Perry shook his head. “I didn’t stay with any alpha for long. The thought of marriage—
it just gave me the chills.”
But he looked at the ring now, and there wasn’t any fear in his eyes. Just... anticipation?
York’s pulse sped up. Did Perry want to be married to York?
York caught Perry’s chin, tipping his face up so their eyes met. “We spent a long time
talking. Just on chat.”
“We did.” Perry smiled. “I’m grateful for that, you know. For you.”
“Do you remember the time you said, ‘I wonder why we’re all in this world’?” And
now York’s heart thumped, because he’d been practicing this part, hoping he didn’t
screw it up.
Perry nodded slowly. “You never really answered.”
“I was afraid to,” York admitted. “‘Cuz I didn’t know if you returned my feelings.”
Perry laughed. “Oh, I did. I just felt too guilty to admit to them.”
“Did you ever come up with an answer? Why you’re in this world.”
Perry shook his head, and York’s breath hitched.
“‘Cuz I have one,” he murmured, stroking Perry’s jaw. “You’re here because you make
me smile, Perry. You’re here because you tell me when I’m screwing up—but you don’t
just do that. You help me figure out how to fix things, too. Like with organizing Caleb’s
party, and with his problems from school. And you’ve been so strong sticking through
your morning sickness.”
“Because there’s no other way.” Perry shrugged.
York grinned. “You’re damn modest, too.”
Perry blushed.
“You’re never gonna stop blushing, are you?” York murmured, stroking Perry’s cheek.
“I don’t know. Probably not.” Perry squirmed, looking up at him. So damn perfect.
“That’s fine, you know.” York leaned in, kissing Perry softly on the lips. “But the
biggest reason why you’re in this world? It’s because you complete me.”
Perry’s eyes grew wide; he stopped breathing. York cradled his omega’s face, leaning so
close that their noses touched.
“I want you by my side for the rest of our lives,” York whispered. “I want you to be
mine. I want you to be my husband, and my other half, and my bondmate.”
Perry whimpered, his eyes growing wet.
“So Perry—Prince—” York kissed him again. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Perry said, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to ask.”
York’s heart swelled in his chest, until it felt like his ribs might burst. “Mine,” he
growled, cupping Perry’s face. “Gods, I was worried you might not.”
Perry laughed, meeting York’s lips in a sweet, slow kiss. “There isn’t another alpha for
me. You know that, silly.”
“Not good to assume things,” York growled. “I want to know for sure.”
He reached down to grab the ring—it had slid off his cock, into Perry’s lap. Perry bit
down his smile. York fished it out from between Perry’s thighs and slid it onto Perry’s
ring finger, honey and all.
“It fits perfectly,” Perry said, surprised.
York grinned. “I found out your size while you were sleeping. You didn’t wake.”
Perry smiled, admiring his ring with such awe that York wanted to mark him all over
again, to be absolutely sure Perry knew York would never leave. And there was a last
marking that York had promised him.
“Ready for that bite?” York whispered, touching the crook of Perry’s neck.
Perry sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes.”
He tipped his head sideways, his chest heaving with anticipation. So eager to be York’s.
York growled, possessive, kissing the spot on Perry’s neck that smelled most strongly of
tulip.
Then he sank his teeth hard into it, breaking skin. Perry shuddered and groaned, his
nails biting into York’s thighs, his entire body trembling.
When York pulled away, spots of blood began welling up on Perry’s skin. York kissed
his new marking, leaning back to meet Perry’s eyes. “You wanna—You wanna do the
same for me?”
Because that had been their agreement: they were saving the neck bites until York was
ready.
Perry swallowed hard, nodding.
York already wore Perry’s marks on his wrists. But being bitten again... York couldn’t
help the excitement, the possessiveness that swelled in his gut. He wanted to be Perry’s.
Wanted Perry to see the markings on him, and know that York had made him promises
he would always keep.
“You’re sure,” Perry whispered.
“I’ve already proposed.” York grinned. “How much surer can I get?”
Perry smiled then. “When you put the ring on me for real.”
Gods, yeah. York couldn’t wait for that, either. “Then we’d need to decide on a date.”
“Tomorrow?” Perry laughed.
York’s heart skipped. “I need to invite everyone,” he said. “Give me a month.”
“You want to everyone to witness it, huh?” Perry glanced down, suddenly shy.
“Yeah. I have an omega, damn it. I want to show him off.” York tugged Perry closer.
“Bite me, Prince. Turn me into a frog.”
Perry laughed. “You’ll never be a frog, York.”
“Don’t tell me you’re frog-ist. You know, like racist.”
“Oh, hush.” Still smiling, Perry leaned in, his breath warm on York’s skin. He kissed
York’s scent gland, a brief, warm touch. Then he pressed the points of his teeth against
York’s skin and bit down hard. Pleasure and pain twisted down York’s nerves. He
hissed, pulling Perry close, pinning Perry against the bed so Perry couldn’t escape.
“You’re all mine now,” York growled, nipping at Perry’s jaw, dragging his wrists all
over Perry’s body, covering his omega with hickory.
Perry shivered, a smile blooming through his face. “Yours. I’m honored, York.”
“Mine.” York ran his hands down Perry’s chest, cupping his belly. Something moved
against his palm—something that felt like a gentle nudge. That definitely wasn’t Perry.
“Oof,” Perry grunted.
His heart in his throat, York met Perry’s eyes. “Was that...?”
“You felt it this time?”
“Yeah. That’s our baby?”
“Yes, it is.” Perry smiled, covering York’s hand with his own.
York stared down at Perry’s abdomen, squeezing it lightly. There was a baby in there. A
little human who would emerge in a few months time. It felt so surreal, Perry carrying a
child. Their child. And it was listening to them right now.
“I’m so not missing the birth this time,” York said, his throat tight. “I’m gonna be there,
okay? And you can threaten my balls and everything. I won’t mind.”
Perry smiled so brightly, he almost glowed. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Just to prove he was, York leaned in, pressing his lips against Perry’s belly.
“Hey,” he said, letting his voice rumble through Perry’s skin. “I’m your other dad.
You’ve got a brother out here—his name’s Caleb. Caleb calls me Papa, and he calls your
other dad Daddy, so I guess that’s who we are to you, too. Don’t kick Daddy too hard,
okay? I don’t want him hurting. He’ll hurt enough pushing you out as it is.”
“I don’t think our baby understands all that yet,” Perry said, laughing.
“Well, just in case.” York grinned. “Don’t want you to suffer so much during the birth.”
“I’ll be fine,” Perry said. “I’ve done this before.”
“You’re the bravest omega ever,” York said, cradling Perry against himself. “And I love
you.”
Perry smiled, ducking his head. He wasn’t denying it, though, and York loved him all
the more.
“Love you, too,” Perry said.
His heart full, York pulled Perry close, not caring that he was smearing honey all over
them. There would be time to clean that up later. Right now, they were due for more
love.
I T WAS the middle of spring when Perry went into labor with their second child.
“Y-your water broke?” York asked, alarmed.
Perry remained sitting at the kitchen table, one arm wrapped around his swollen belly.
He breathed through his contraction, then sat back, stretching his legs out in front of
him. “Yes, it just did.”
Then he stood, waddling over to the fridge.
“You’re not... getting ready?” York asked, flabbergasted. “To, you know, go to the
hospital?”
Perry looked over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. “It’s fine, York. Relax.”
“But the baby!”
“It won’t be here for a few hours, yet.”
At the back of his mind, York knew the labor would take hours, even if it was Perry’s
second birth. But he felt so... unprepared. He needed to do something. And he’d just
slept off a twenty-four hour shift, so there was nothing pressing that he had to see to
right now.
“I should check the nursery,” he said.
Perry grinned, waddling along. “I should supervise.”
“You should sit down.” York scowled.
Perry crunched on a celery stick—one of those foods he’d absolutely hated before
getting pregnant. “I’ll be sitting around enough later.”
Then he tangled their fingers together, and York didn’t have the heart to make Perry
step away for any amount of time.
Perry was thirty-nine at this point. Logically, York knew the birth should go okay—the
doctor at the prenatal clinic had cleared their baby of most abnormalities. But there
were always risks involved with birth, and York hadn’t had enough of his omega.
Hell, they still hadn’t gotten married yet, and York was chomping at the bit to.
Things had kept cropping up: the gazebo by the lake, where everyone got married—it
had caught fire and burned. Now that it was newly rebuilt, the wait list for weddings
there was a mile long. Then Perry had been called away for a robotics conference, York
had needed to babysit Lenna for a couple weekends, and right now, he was almost
ready to haul Perry to the town registrar’s office, and just marry him right there.
Probably not a bad idea, all things considered.
“Do you want to get married right now?” York asked.
Perry paused in the middle of re-folding all the baby clothes. “Now?”
“Yeah.” York perked up. “Pretty sure we can grab a marriage license and just do the
thing.”
“But what about inviting everyone?” Perry’s forehead wrinkled. “You wanted a whole
crowd there.”
York blew out a breath. Yeah, he wanted his dad at his wedding, because that was kind
of really important. Except there were schedules to work around, people to invite, and
that took time. “Damn it.”
“Damn it,” Caleb said, racing into the room.
Perry groaned. “York.”
York grinned, grabbing Caleb and lifting him into the air. Caleb shrieked. “Papa!”
Holy crap, that gave York the warm, fuzzy feelings every time. Being Caleb’s dad.
Caleb acknowledging York as his dad. York glanced at Perry. “Hey, at least it isn’t the f-
bomb.”
“He already said that last night!” Perry rubbed his face.
“Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t have left the door open,” York said sheepishly.
They’d been in the middle of sex one day, Perry lying on his side, York teasing him
with his cock. Just fuck me already, Perry had snarled. York had grinned and pushed in,
and Perry had been so tight that York had cursed.
He’d lost track of the things he’d said—but it contained many Fucks, apparently,
because Caleb had pushed the door open and said, I thought ‘fuck’ is a bad word. Why are
you shoving Daddy? You said I can’t shove anyone at school. Is that a snake?
Perry had shoved a pillow at York’s hips. York had been tempted to give Caleb the
When Papa loves Daddy very much, Papa gives Daddy a snake talk, except Perry had glared.
So that joke had been relegated to pillow talk, and they hadn’t been able to convince
Caleb to stop saying ‘fuck’.
“Looks like you’ll be spending some time with Grandpa,” York said to Caleb. “Daddy’s
going to the hospital real soon to have your baby brother or sister, and I’m gonna be
with him.”
Caleb looked at Perry’s abdomen, his eyes round. “Wow.”
Perry laughed, holding his arms out. Caleb raced into them, and Perry held him for a
long moment. “Daddy and Papa will be very busy with the new baby soon, but I want
you to know that we both love you very much, okay?”
Caleb nodded, looking a little confused. York didn’t blame him—there was no way to
appreciate being an only child, until the moment you weren’t one anymore.
“C’mon, let’s get you over to your Grandpa’s,” York said. “Perry, you gonna come
along?”
Perry sighed. “I guess I should bring my overnight bag, just in case.”
It took a while for all of them to get ready. When they finally made it out of the
apartment, York almost crashed into two other people in the hallway.
“Gareth?” York asked, surprised.
Gareth looked just as stunned. “You live here?”
“Been living here since I joined the station. Problem with that?”
Gareth looked from York to Perry to Caleb, then back to York. “No. I didn’t realize
we’re now neighbors. I just moved in.”
York stared. Well, that was a coincidence. “Not right above my apartment, I hope, ‘cuz
I’m not gonna have you falling into my bathroom, too.”
Perry gave a peal of laughter. “That’s how we met,” he explained to Gareth, waving
between York and himself. “My bathtub crashed through York’s ceiling.”
That had been one hell of a reunion. And York hadn’t even known it at the time. What
were the chances of FrogPrince crashing back into his life? Naked, no less.
Gareth stared, dread filling his expression. Then he ran his fingers through his silver-
streaked hair, and sighed. “Gods. I don’t need another thing to worry about.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” the boy next to him muttered. “I can get home
perfectly fine.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. York followed his gaze—on closer inspection, the boy with
Gareth wasn’t so much of a kid anymore.
He was nineteen, maybe? Thin, almost fragile, his peony scent whispering, Omega. He
was pretty the way Perry was—high cheekbones, full lips. But his eyes... There was an
oldness in his eyes. Jaded. Guarded. Like he didn’t trust anyone at all, even though
Gareth was one of the best alphas he could have as a companion.
What happened to you? York wondered. Then he decided it really wasn’t his business.
Especially if the omega had a past like Perry did.
The omega scrubbed his hands on his pants, surreptitiously. His fingers were smeared
with blues and whites and yellows—had he been painting?
“Anyway,” Gareth said to York.
The omega glanced at Gareth again—a barely-there look, but interest flickered in his
eyes.
Then, before Gareth saw it, he looked away and strode off.
Gareth sighed and gave York and Perry a quick wave. He caught up with his
companion. “Hey, Flower.”
“It’s Flores,” the omega muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Gareth caught Flores’ wrist, tugging his hand back out. “That paint on your fingers?”
Flores’ eyes flashed. He yanked his hand away from Gareth like he’d been burned, his
shoulders tense. “I don’t care how much my parents are paying you. Leave me alone.”
“This is exactly what they told you not to do, isn’t it?” Gareth asked.
Flores glared, his lips pressing tight. It was as though he had something he needed to
say, but he wouldn’t allow himself to. “You know nothing.”
He strode down the hallway, leaving Gareth jogging after him.
“Your parents aren’t paying me,” Gareth said quietly. But Flores had already
disappeared into the stairwell. Gareth followed him.
York stared as their footfalls faded away. He exchanged a glance with Perry.
“That sounds... complicated,” Perry said carefully.

“Sure does,” York agreed.
“Would you rather have an omega like that?” Perry glanced at York. Just a quick look,
but it was enough for York to read the question in his eyes.
York grinned. “Nah. You’re way more than enough for me.”
Perry broke into a smile, tangling their fingers together. Then he glanced at the stairwell
again. “Do you think...?”
“That they might end up like us?” York shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. Gareth’s
lost his omega. He didn’t seem keen on finding another when I talked to him about it.”
Perry winced. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure not to bring it up with him.”
“What, you’re gonna chat with him?” York grinned, sliding his arm around Perry. “I
thought you were afraid of alphas.”
“I meant, if I were ever stuck in a conversation with him. Like in the elevator.” Perry
frowned. “You know, now that we’re neighbors. Besides, I think I trust the people
you’re friends with.”
York grinned, his heart swelling with pride. “Yeah? Would you like to go on a date with
him?”
Perry elbowed York in the side. “No!”
He looked so adorable glowering, that York pulled him in for a kiss. Perry’s belly
bumped awkwardly against York’s front.
“Do you have cooties?” Caleb asked. “You kiss Daddy so much.”
York laughed. “Cooties aren’t real, buddy.”
“But Jilly said they are!”
So York knelt in front of Caleb, and held his hands out. “I’ve kissed Daddy a thousand
times,” he said. “Do I look like I have cooties?”
“What if you can’t see them?” Caleb pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Then I’ll feel sick, wouldn’t I?” York rubbed his chest. “But I just feel like my heart’s
about to burst, ‘cuz I love your dad so fu—so, um. So much.”
Caleb squinted suspiciously at York. Perry stifled his laugh.
“Doesn’t have the same ring to it,” York muttered.

“I heard it anyway,” Perry murmured, looking down with a blush.
York’s heart swelled about three sizes too big. He ran his hand down Perry’s round
belly, then remembered Perry’s water breaking. “Shi—Damn—Ah, f—Fff!”
“Ffff,” Caleb said, giggling.
“Fudge,” York muttered. This censorship thing didn’t sit so well with him.
“What else were you going to say?” Perry asked, biting down his smile.
“We’re supposed to get you to the hospital.” York growled. “And Caleb to my dad’s.”
“I guess we should.” Perry squeezed York’s hand. “With no cooties, and no fudges.”
“Why?” Caleb asked.
“It’s a joke,” York said.
“I don’t understand,” Caleb answered. “Why’s it a joke?”
York sighed. This was what the next twenty years of his life would be like, wasn’t it?
Thing was, he wasn’t so afraid of it anymore. Not with Perry by his side, catching him
when he messed up.
“Let’s get going,” York said. “Daddy will explain everything to you in the car. And I’ll
make everything up to Daddy later.”
Perry shook his head, smiling.
H OURS LATER , York kind of regretted it.
“The next time you think about waving those balls around,” Perry hissed, his grip so
tight around York’s hand that York was convinced his bones would fuse together,
“shove them up your ass, and then add a cantaloupe.”
“But a baby’s bigger than a cantaloupe, isn’t it?” York blurted. And then he wished he
hadn’t said it, because Perry’s eyes flashed.
“Then shove a watermelon up your ass,” Perry growled, heaving when the midwife
told him to. “All of them! Let’s see you get pregnant.”
York winced. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. It looked so damn uncomfortable, but he
would if it’d take the pressure off his omega. “You’d knock me up?”
“I would,” Perry hissed, grunting as he heaved again.
“You’re doing great,” the midwife said, patting Perry’s leg.
York held Perry’s hand, waiting until the contraction passed. Perry flopped back
against the mattress, breathing hard.
Six hours into his labor, Perry’s hair had matted with sweat, his hospital gown damp,
his gaze fatigued. York brushed the hair out of Perry’s face, drying off his sweat with a
towel.
“Just a little bit more,” York murmured, dropping kisses all over Perry’s face. “You’re
amazing, Prince. Beyond amazing.”
Perry huffed, relaxing his death-grip on York’s hand. “Tell me that when the baby’s
out.”
“Nah. I’m gonna tell it to you right now, because you’re perfect.”
Perry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Sweet-talker.”
“You know me,” York murmured, running his fingers through Perry’s hair. “I mean
what I say.”
Perry breathed out, leaning into York’s touch. “I guess you do.”
York spent a moment just staring at Perry. At his bitten-red lips, at the flush of exertion
down his chest and neck. Perry’s arms cradling his belly, his gaze tired, but determined.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” York murmured. “Sorry. Maybe you’re tired of hearing it.
But it’s what I feel.”
Perry smiled. “You’re really stubborn, you know.”
“Well, yeah.” York grinned, admiring his omega.
Perry tensed as another contraction ripped through him. York’s heart stopped. He held
Perry’s hand, murmuring into Perry’s ear as Perry heaved, his tendons straining, his
breaths coming sharp and quick.
“Just few more pushes,” the midwife said.
“You can do it,” York murmured in Perry’s ear, his heart too tight. “You’re the
strongest omega I’ve ever known. I believe you can.”
Perry heaved and heaved, and York’s insides twisted as he waited. He hated seeing
Perry in so much pain. He hated knowing that Perry had been alone the first time he’d
done this.
York held his omega, tracing his scent all over Perry’s skin. Perry trembled. Then York
glimpsed something bloody in the corner of his eye—the midwife caught their baby.
“It’s a girl,” she said, smiling.
Perry sagged back into the bed, panting, his eyes fluttering shut. York’s heart grew full;
he cradled Perry against himself, tears prickling in his eyes. “So damn proud of you,”
he whispered, kissing Perry’s forehead. “You did it, Prince.”
Perry cracked a smile. “I did.”
“You’re the best person in the world.” York dropped kisses all over his face, wanting to
show Perry how much he loved him, except kisses didn’t quite seem enough.
Then their baby wailed; Perry glanced up, searching out their child. The midwife
brought her over, gently laying her on Perry’s chest. Perry lit up, his awed gaze roving
over their daughter.
“Zoe,” he whispered, cradling her. She was tiny, pink and still bloody, her tiny fists
clenched.
York held his breath. Gently pressed his palm to Zoe’s back. Gods, she was small. But
she was half of York and half of Perry, and she was beautiful. And no matter how
inexperienced York knew he was, he would try his best to care for her. Protect her.
Because she was theirs.
“Hello, Zoe,” Perry said, choking up. “We’ve been waiting a while.”
Zoe’s wails subsided. She cocked her head, as though she was listening out for Perry.
Perry smiled, murmuring at her.
“That’s Daddy,” York said, his throat tight. “You recognize his voice, huh?”
“Seems like she does,” Perry croaked. “Do you—Do you want to hold her?”
“Gods, I’m afraid I’d break her.” York held his breath, suddenly nervous. But Perry
carefully handed Zoe over, positioning York’s hands so he’d support her right.
And then York was holding their daughter, and she was small and delicate in his arms.
It was so hard to believe that she was finally out here with them. After nine whole
months. She’d been there with him and Perry when they’d gotten back together, in her
own way. Just sitting in Perry’s belly while they fumbled with each other, trying to get
things right this second time.
“What does it feel like to hold her?” Perry murmured.
“Amazing,” York said, his heart full. “She’s what a second chance feels like. ‘Cuz we
made her when I met you again.”
Perry trembled, tears welling up in his eyes. So York leaned in, and kissed him softly on
the lips. It was incredible, holding his newborn. Knowing that Perry had made a family
with York.
Knowing that Perry had stopped hiding, knowing that Perry was no longer afraid.
They’d come a long ways, from being a clueless kid on one side of a computer screen,
and a frightened omega on the other side. For so long, Perry’s past had held him
trapped. But York had forgiven Perry for the untruths he’d spun in fear. In return, he’d
found in Perry an omega who blossomed under his protection, a bondmate who loved
him with all his heart.
And now they shared a home together, now their lives were intertwined.
“I love you,” York said to Perry.
Perry’s smile filled every corner of his heart. “I love you, too.”
T HEIR WEDDING TOOK place by the lake on a cool summer morning, two months after
Zoe was born.
“You’re sure you want that at the ceremony,” Perry said dubiously, staring at the frog
mask riding along on the dashboard.
York only grinned. “That’s how we met, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but...” Perry bit his lip, his heart thumping. “No one else wears a frog mask at
their wedding.”
“See, think of it as a veil.” York pulled into a parking lot near the lake. “Like on TV,
when the alpha lifts it and kisses his omega?”
They hadn’t been doing it often, but it had become a bit of a tradition between them.
Sometimes, York would climb into bed and set the frog mask on Perry’s face. Then he’d
flip up the lower half of the mask, and kiss Perry slow and sweet on the lips. Perry had
asked, Are you doing that to hide my face?
But York had only answered, I’m just remembering the very first time I kissed you.
Perry’s heart skipped now. He fingered the mask, then unbuckled his seatbelt to get the
children from the backseat.
At two months, Zoe was still sleeping a lot. She stirred when Perry lifted the portable
cradle, cracking her eyes open. Unlike Caleb, Zoe looked a lot more like York than
Perry, with her brown hair and blue eyes. York had learned to feed her and change her
diapers, sometimes sighing his exasperation when he’d freshly changed her diapers,
only for her to soil them again.
Perry’s favorite times were when York was home, Caleb and Zoe tucked around him,
York being a better dad than he thought he could ever be.
“Ready to be our ring-bearer, Caleb?” York asked, giving his son a high-five.
“Yes!” Caleb hopped between his feet, a little ball of energy.
“Awesome.” York tucked the mask into Zoe’s cradle, grinning. “Here.”
Perry shook his head, a smile spreading through his face. I guess we’re really doing this.
Their guests had gathered into rows of chairs in front of the white-painted gazebo.
Perry had invited some of his professor friends from the college, and he recognized a
few of the firefighters from York’s shift at the station—Dom and Harris, Alec, Jesse, and
Brad. Gareth was there, too, but his omega companion was nowhere to be seen.
Micah limped up to them, pulling Perry into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Perry bowed his head, grateful for Micah’s acceptance. By bonding with York, it felt like
he’d acquired a whole new extended family, instead of just his alpha. “Thank you for
giving me and York a chance.”
Micah shrugged and smiled. “I’ve watched York grow up. He’s always been happiest
with you, you know.”
“Dad!” York grinned, kissing Micah’s cheek. “I’m so glad you didn’t chase Perry away.
He would’ve run even more.”
“I wasn’t going to!” Micah laughed. “Besides, Perry needed an alpha. A really good
one.”
Perry blushed, not knowing what to say. Finding York, marrying him... It still felt a little
surreal.
Spike and Kai—Micah’s husbands—came up to clap York on the back. “Didn’t think
you were going to marry an older omega, too,” Spike said, waggling his eyebrows at
York. “You were giving us so much crap about Micah.”
“That’s because he’s my dad!” York elbowed Spike.
“But a professor, too?” Spike nudged York in return. “You ended up following in our
footsteps.”
“Hey, I grew up around two professors,” York said. Then he looked at Perry and
winked, and Perry squirmed a little. Even though Perry had made peace with his
history with York, it would still be awkward, explaining it to other people.
“Congrats.” Kai grinned, shaking York’s hand. “If you want, Spike and I can teach you
some dance moves. You might find it... helpful.”
“Only if they’re mind-blowing,” York said, looking doubtful.
“They’re panty-dropping,” Spike assured him. “I guarantee it. Think of it as our gift to
you.”
York glanced back at Perry, interest sparking in his eyes. Perry didn’t know if this was a
good idea. He’d probably end up losing his voice even more often than before.
“Yeah, sounds like good to me,” York said with a grin. Perry flushed.
“I didn’t think you’d invite Cole and Levi,” Micah said to York suddenly, raising his
eyebrows.
York glanced at the pair approaching them, exchanging a look with Perry. “Perry made
me. Said it’s about time.”
Micah’s smile grew. “You know what, I’m really glad Perry’s joining our family. He’s
good for you.”
York’s smile grew, then faded a little when Cole and Levi approached them. Perry
hadn’t heard much about Cole or his omega, aside from them being in an accident with
Micah years ago, giving Micah his scars and limp. But because of that, York had held
the longest grudge against the pair.
Cole stopped in front of York, surprise flickering in his eyes when York held out his
hand.
“Thanks for showing up,” York said, shaking Cole’s hand. “I guess I shouldn’t have
been such a jerk over the years. You did do your best.”
Cole’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead; he smiled. His omega, Levi, looked relieved.
“Thanks,” Levi said. “We’re sorry, too.”
Micah frowned at Levi. “I told you to stop that.”
Levi looked sheepish. Cole grinned at Micah. “Yes, you did.” He glanced back at York,
curious. “But why now? You were mad with us for years, York.”
York squeezed Perry’s hand, giving him a warm, intent look that went all the way to his
toes. “Someone taught me that sometimes, it’s better to forgive. So that’s what I’m
doing now.”
Everyone looked at Perry, and Perry’s face grew hot. “I didn’t do anything,” he
mumbled.
“Yes, you did.” York grinned. “You tried to convince me, remember?”
Well, Perry had. He just hadn’t thought it would work this well.
“You did good,” Cole said, winking.

York scowled. “I draw the line there. No winking at him.”
Perry laughed, handing Zoe’s cradle over to Micah. Then he tugged York and Caleb
over to the rest of the guests. “I’m proud of you,” Perry said. For York to let go of his
decade-long grudge, and for Perry to have helped bring that about... It was amazing.
York shrugged, his ears turning pink. Perry’s heart fluttered. He loved his alpha, so
very much.
Micah hurried up to them. “You forgot this,” he said, tucking the frog mask into Perry’s
hand. “Or did you want to leave it with Zoe?”
“We’re taking it,” York said. “It’s gonna be important. Thanks, Dad.”
Perry blushed.
York pulled a small box from his pocket, waving it at Caleb. “Ready to be the hero of
the day, buddy?”
Caleb nodded, bouncing. “Yeah!”
York signaled to the wedding organizer that they were ready; Perry’s heart thudded.
Micah squeezed his arm, before bringing Zoe to the front row. York met Perry’s eyes.
“You ready?”
To marry York? There wasn’t a better time for it. So Perry smiled and said, “Yes.”
York grinned, positioning Caleb at the start of the aisle. The wedding organizer got
everyone to their seats. Then York headed to the end of the aisle, just waiting for Perry
and Caleb. And now the guests were falling quiet, turning to watch them.
Perry hugged his son. “Are you ready, hon? York will officially become your Papa after
this. He loves you so much.”
“I love Papa,” Caleb said, so honestly that Perry’s heart swelled.
The music began, slow piano notes that floated over the wedding guests. Perry
shivered; the ceremony was beginning. He gave Caleb a little nudge. “Bring those rings
to Papa. Walk slowly!”
Caleb cheered, trying his best to walk slowly down the aisle, even though his tiny body
quivered with energy. He was a bundle of love, one that Perry was sending to York.
With quick, eager footsteps, Caleb reached the end of the aisle, speeding up when he
approached York. York took the rings from Caleb and hugged him, looking so proud of
their son that Perry forgot to breathe. This was his alpha. The man he was about to
marry.
And York straightened, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Waiting for Perry.
His heart thudding, Perry pulled on the frog mask, covering his face until he could only
see through the eye holes. The mask smelled like rubber, and it felt a little awkward,
having everyone watch him like this.
But he remembered that first night, stepping out of his car in a similar mask, walking
self-consciously into a coffeeshop, only to have York already waiting there. He
remembered York’s expression, all nerves and anticipation, his heart in his eyes. He had
been so young then. And he’d taken Perry’s hand, and kissed his knuckles.
In front of the crowd, York raised his voice. “This was how Perry looked the very first
time I met him. He was the frog prince, and to be honest, I felt like a pauper. ‘Cuz even
though I didn’t know what he looked like, I knew his soul was beautiful.”
Perry’s throat grew tight. It always took him by surprise, York’s sheer regard of him. He
made the first step down the aisle, and the second.
As he walked, York said, “Sometimes, it takes years to see the person beneath the
surface. Sometimes, it takes even longer to understand him. And sometimes, it takes
making mistakes, it takes hard work, to make sure you’re both walking on the same
path again.
“The mask feels like that. I learned that there were layers to Perry, layers I had to
carefully peel back. Except the deeper I got, the more I fell in love with him. And when I
reached the core of who he is, I realized the beauty I’d unearthed. I knew I’d be making
the biggest mistake of my life if I let him go.”
Perry swallowed hard. York had said some of this to him before. But not to their friends
and family. Not this publicly. Not with York’s gaze so intent, burning all the way into
Perry, even though he had that frog mask on.
He realized his cheeks were itching—he realized he was crying—when he reached the
end of the aisle. And York was right in front of him, reaching for his hand, pulling him
close.
“I—” Perry wanted to reach under his mask to wipe off his tears, except York got there
first.
York’s warm fingers curled under the mask, against Perry’s jaw. He peeled the rubber
off carefully. Sunlight splashed onto Perry’s face; York froze for a moment, seeing
Perry’s tears.
“I’m fine,” Perry mumbled, scrubbing at his face. “Just happy.”
York caught his hands. Then he brushed the tears off Perry’s cheeks, his gaze warm.
“I’m glad.”
The minister was talking next to them, but Perry didn’t hear a word of it. He stood with
York, just basking in York’s presence.
“You’ve changed,” York murmured. “You’re braver now.”
“You’ve changed, too,” Perry answered. “You’ve learned to forgive.”
“I wasn’t going to lose you.” York squeezed his hand. “You’re more important than
anything in the world.”
Perry’s breath snagged in his throat. Then the minister looked at him, and asked, “Perry
Larkin, do you swear to be York Davis’ lawful omega?”
“I do,” Perry said, more certain than he’d been in his life.
“York Davis, do you swear to be Perry Larkin’s lawful alpha?”
“I do,” York growled, brushing his thumb over the back of Perry’s hand. Perry’s heart
thumped.
“You may exchange your rings.”
York pulled Caleb’s box out of his pocket. Then he handed the larger ring to Perry, and
kept the smaller for himself. “Do we do this at the same time?”
Perry shook his head. “I want to remember this. You go first.”
York’s smile curved his lips; he took Perry’s hand, and slid the white gold ring onto
Perry’s finger. The ring held a small teal fluorite—a combination of their favorite
colors—with a series of tiny flames carved on the metal band. My heart burns for you,
York had said. The ring sat snug around Perry’s finger like a promise, cool against his
skin.
Perry held his breath, sliding York’s ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly, too, with a
matching teal gem and flame carvings down its sides.
“I pronounce you husband and husband,” the minister said. “You may kiss.”
York blinked hard, breaking into a smile. “We’re married,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Finally.”
Perry’s heart lifted. He tiptoed, and York pulled him into a deep, sweet kiss, his fingers
brushing into Perry’s hair, his embrace tight and safe.
Through the years and the times they’d been together, Perry had never imagined that
their relationship would end up like this: where York would forgive him, and so readily
agree to become Caleb’s father. But York had changed. He’d accepted Perry with all his
heart, and he was helping Perry to see himself in a different—better—light. Slowly but
certainly, Perry was beginning to forgive himself, too.
As York marked Perry with his scent, all over again, Perry swore to himself that he
would always be honest with his alpha, that he would always trust York to catch him
when he fell.
With the promises they’d made, with the markings they’d left on each other’s bodies, a
last, tiny bit of Perry’s uncertainty fell away.
“Thank you,” Perry whispered against York’s lips, “for bringing me home.”
York cradled Perry close, his gaze so warm. “Mine, Prince. Always.”
“L OOK , you gotta snap your hips up,” Spike said, demonstrating the move again. “You
need to give your dick enough momentum to lift your skirt.”
Never, in ten million years, had York expected to hear that from Spike. Largely because
he’d never expected to learn to dance in the first place. “How do I know when it’s
gonna lift?”
“Have you never tried flopping your dick around before?”
“Not when it’s soft.” What was the point of that? “You have?”
“Well, yeah. It was the best way to get Kai to look at it.” Spike laughed, then sighed,
barely suppressing a wriggle. “Been months since I saw him in person. He’s gonna
show up with the skirts soon, and you’ll get to suit up and let your dick fly.”
York wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more about his friends’ sex lives. So he glanced
down, bent his knees like Spike had told him to, and rolled his hips. Kind of hard to tell
how his cock would react to movement, when he had so many clothes on.
“You know, I’ll probably have to strip,” York said.
“Good idea.”
York glanced at the closed bedroom door down the hallway. Perry had brought Caleb
into the nursery with Zoe for some bonding time, and also so York could have some
privacy to learn the dance Spike and Kai had promised to teach him.
The doorbell rang. Spike perked up. “That should be Kai.”
York frowned. “If both you and Kai are here, who’s taking care of my dad?”
“He’s having lunch with his professor friends.” Spike bounded over to the front door.
“But he’s been taking some self-defense classes lately. Watch out for that walking stick!”
That, York didn’t know. It sounded good, though. He liked knowing that his dad was
safe. Perry, too.
Spike looked through the peep hole, then threw the door open with a grin. Outside the
apartment, his stepbrother smiled, pulling Spike into a tight hug.
“Brought the skirts,” Kai said, but his entire attention had locked onto Spike. Spike
hauled Kai into a rough kiss. Kai bit down on Spike’s lower lip and shoved him against
the doorjamb, yanking on his hair.
In a way, York could see why they’d gotten together. He still thought it was weird,
falling in love with your stepbrother, or loving more than one person at a time. But the
way Kai and Spike showed affection for each other... It was rough, almost violent. And
if they had to do that with each other to get it out of their systems, well. At least York’s
dad wasn’t the one hurting.
York wasn’t aware he was staring, until they broke the kiss and Spike asked, “Weren’t
you gonna strip?”
York glanced down at his clothes. “Right.”
He kicked off his pants, then his boxers. Spike whistled, waggling his eyebrows. “That’s
a cock.”
Kai shook his head, sighing.
York rolled his eyes. “You’re saying weird shit again.”
“I’m nuts. But I can also recognize a good cock when I see one.” Spike took a bunch of
red fabric from Kai, pulling a shapeless mess out of the pile. Then he tossed it at York;
York caught it.
The fabric was light and shapeless, almost slipping out of York’s fingers. He tied it
around his waist, frowning at how the red rectangle hung down to mid-thigh, a few
inches below his cock.
“That’s short,” York said, aghast. “You call this a skirt?”
The skirt felt like spidersilk around him, barely there, clinging to his hips and the line of
his cock.
“Now try snapping your hips,” Spike said, smug.
“Maybe move it further down so you’re decent,” Kai added dryly.
“But if you leave it higher, you’ll see more dick,” Spike retorted. “Leave it. Perry’s
panties are gonna fly right off. You’ll thank me for it.”
York wasn’t sure he liked hearing about Perry’s underwear from Spike. But he did like
the idea of Perry losing his clothes at light-speed, presenting for York and begging for
his cock.
So York left the skirt alone, bent his knees, and rolled his hips. This time, his cock lifted
the fabric somewhat.
“Do it harder,” Spike said. “Like you’re fucking a ghost.”
Kai snorted, turning away to stifle his laughter.
York glowered at Spike. He tried again. His cock lifted the skirt more this time, and
York looked proudly at his instructor.
Spike shook his head. “No, lemme show you how it’s done.”
Spike wriggled out of his clothes. He tied on his skirt, did a few dance moves, and then
snapped his hips so hard that his cock lifted his skirt clean off his thighs. York stared.
“That’s how you do it.” Spike grinned.
“Holy crap, that’s indecent,” York said.
“Why do you think the skirts are so short?” Kai asked, dropping into the couch to
watch them. “They’re not meant to stay on.”
York tried to wrap his mind around that. So this ‘dance’ Spike had offered to teach
him... was not really a dance, but a series of movements designed to show off his cock.
And whatever other body parts were involved.
He almost felt embarrassed, learning the dance from his friends. Except York really,
really wanted to see Perry’s reaction to this. And he wanted to see how red Perry would
turn. His cock twitched, interested.
“Okay, I’m game,” York said. Spike grinned.
Spike brought him through a series of moves—eight beats at a time, then the same eight
beats, over and over, until York got the hang of it. He jumped on the balls of his feet so
his skirt fluttered up. Then he flexed his arms, raising them above his head so his
muscles bunched.
Kai took a couple of videos on his phone to show York how he looked. York practiced
snapping his hips until his cock swung up, lifting his skirt off his thighs. He raised his
legs high like Spike did, and then leaped into the air, the updraft tugging his skirt up.
“Yeah, the view’s better from here,” Kai growled, staring at Spike.
York breathed out. He wished Perry were here. He’d heard some muffled talking from
the nursery, but Perry hadn’t emerged with the kids yet—not that York wanted Caleb
or Zoe to see this.
“Let’s run it all the way through,” Spike said. “Then we’ll practice with some music
on.”
They did the entire dance twice—it was half the dance, really, but York figured it was
enough. By the end of it, he was pretty confident in his moves.
“Music,” Spike said, at the same time the nursery door cracked open.
Perry froze behind the door, meeting York’s eyes. Then his gaze raked down York’s
body, and York’s blood thrummed for his omega.
Kai tapped on his phone, starting the music. Spike counted down to the beginning.
York almost missed his cue.
He followed Spike’s movements—two steps forward, a half turn, then a leg up and his
arms above his head. All this while, Perry slipped out of the room hurriedly, shutting
the door. He crept through the dim hallway, his attention locked on York. York felt his
cock grow heavy.
“One thing you don’t want to do during this dance,” Kai said wryly. “Getting hard
defeats the purpose of those hip thrusts.”
York cleared his throat, his face heating up. “Can’t help it,” he muttered. Not when
Perry had stopped at the threshold of the living room, his wide eyes anchored onto
York.
Stop looking at Perry, York told himself. He hadn’t grown fully hard yet—just half-hard,
enough that his cock was almost peeking out past the edge of his skirt.
York focused on lifting his legs. Perry squeaked. His gaze had dropped to York’s hips,
and when York turned, the skirt fluttered. Perry had turned pink.
A visceral instinct in York growled, wanting that omega beneath him.
York made himself look at Spike. Can’t get distracted now. He needed to show Perry that
hip thrust, and that was coming soon. He focused on his movements. Flexed his arms
more. He jumped a little higher so the fluttering skirt gave Perry a good view. Then,
finally, he counted down to the hip thrusts, bent his knees, and flicked his hips hard.
His cock swung up, lifting the skirt completely, giving Perry an eyeful.
Perry made a soft, strangled sound.
When York chanced a look back at his omega, Perry had leaned forward, his mouth
open, his pupils dilated. And his musk—York could smell Perry’s musk beneath all the
alpha scents, sweet and heady.
Despite the workout he was giving his limbs, York grew hard anyway, his cock jutting
up, lifting his skirt. He tried holding it down with one hand. Perry licked his lips, a
bulge in his own pants. York’s throat grew dry.
Somehow, they finished the dance. Kai stopped the music. Spike turned, clapping York
on the shoulder.
“You did it,” Spike said with pride. “Drop the skirt off at our place whenever.”
“You want it back?” Perry croaked.
“Yeah, but not right now,” Kai growled. He stood, grabbed Spike, and hauled him
toward the front door.
“Kai!” Spike protested, his skirt slipping off his hips. “I’m gonna get a citation if we
walk out like that.”
Kai scowled. He looked Spike over, then glanced at York. “Mind if we borrow your
kitchen?”
At the back of his mind, maybe York knew why they wanted to. But with Perry
stepping forward, crowding so close that the heat of his body warmed York’s skin, York
didn’t care. “Yeah, whatever.”
Then he swept Perry off his feet and carried him to their bedroom, his blood rushing
between his legs, his cock definitely hard now.
“Don’t slam the door,” Perry said breathlessly. “Zoe’s asleep. Caleb’s coloring, but he’ll
investigate if you make sounds.”
York grinned, nuzzling his omega affectionately. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
Perry turned pinker. “Well, I wanted to see what the dance looked like.”
He raked his gaze down York’s chest, cupping York’s cock with his soft palm, a moan
slipping from his throat. Fuck.
York shut the door as quietly as he could. Locked it. Then he pressed Perry against the
wall and kissed him, sliding into Perry’s damp mouth, cupping Perry between the legs.
Perry gasped and arched, rocking his bulge eagerly against York’s palm.
“What do you want?” York growled, nipping at Perry’s lip. Just enough for a hint of
pain.
Perry gasped. He wrapped his fingers around York’s cock, stroking it from tip to base.
“You.”
York’s throat went dry. He held Perry’s fist around his cock, rutting against his palm.
“You want this?”
Perry moaned. And York snapped his hips hard, like he’d learned to in the dance.
Perry’s breath rushed out of him. When York reached behind his omega, he found a
damp spot on Perry’s pants, right beneath his hole.
“Wet for me,” York rasped, imagining Perry’s tight entrance, and how it would stretch
around him.
So he pushed his fingers against Perry’s covered hole, forcing his cheeks to spread, until
Perry felt the pressure of York’s fingers where he needed his alpha.
Perry shuddered, clutching at York. “Th-That’s... some skirt.”
“You know what they say about skirts.” York grinned. “All the better to fuck you with.”
Perry trembled, his flush creeping up his ears. They’d been together a year now.
Married four months, and yet Perry still got so flustered whenever York flirted with
him. He was so damn adorable.
York picked him up, walked over to their bed, and dropped him on his knees. “On all
fours. Gonna claim you properly.”
Perry wheezed, shoving his pants down his ass, taking his briefs along with it. His cock
sprang up, dark red and thick. York grasped it, tugging firmly, until Perry’s legs
trembled and he bucked his hips, precome trailing from his tip.
“York,” Perry gasped, clutching at York’s wrist.
“Come for me,” York growled, squeezing Perry’s balls.
Perry shuddered, gasping, his too-sensitive cock growing harder in York’s tight fist. So
York leaned in, bit on Perry’s earlobe, and whispered, “If you come for me, I’ll knock
you up again.”
And that triggered a full-body shudder in his omega. Perry choked on his moan, his
cock throbbing as he spurted all over York’s fist.
“We’re supposed to be quiet, remember?” York grinned, stroking Perry’s sensitive cock
harder.
Perry whimpered, shoving his hand against his mouth, his too-sensitive cock trapped in
York’s fist. “P-Please—”
York flattened his palm against Perry’s length, angling it down between his legs, until
his fingertips bumped into Perry’s ass. Then, still stroking Perry’s cock, he pushed his
finger between Perry’s cheeks, following the trail of slick to his hole. “Wet for me?”
“Yes,” Perry hissed, shoving his hips at York, his pupils blowing wide.
“Gods, Perry.” York’s cock throbbed for his omega. He circled Perry’s hole, brushing
over it, but never once sliding inside.
Perry grasped York’s forearm. “Aren’t you going to...?”
“To...?” York grinned, and pushed two fingers between Perry’s cheeks, spreading them
to expose Perry’s hole to the air.
Perry whimpered, his cock jerking against York’s hand. “To touch me. Inside.”
“How?” York grinned. “With my tongue?”
Perry’s face turned so red, York thought he would faint. “What?” Perry squeaked.
They hadn’t done that before. York had thought about it, on and off, but he’d wondered
if Perry would get squicked out. “You don’t wanna?”
Perry bit his lip, looking uncertain. “I... don’t know what it feels like.”
A rumble started in York’s chest. “Down. On all fours. Present for me.”
Perry whined, but he squirmed around and bent over, pushing his ass high into the air.
York fought down the immediate, animal urge to mount him and fuck inside. Gods, he
wanted to. Wanted to see Perry’s hole opening around him. Wanted to hear Perry’s
voice break when he took York inside.
York grasped Perry’s cheeks to hold them open, kissing Perry’s gear tattoo, then either
side of Perry’s ass. Then he licked down the crack to Perry’s musky hole, glistening and
ready for him. So damn ready. York’s cock ached. He leaned in, kissed the pink muscle,
and flicked his tongue against it. Salty. Perry jerked against him, crying out.
“Shh,” York said. And licked Perry again, over and over, until Perry squirmed beneath
him, his musk so thick that York’s pulse pounded between his legs.
“York,” Perry begged, his cock growing thick against York’s palm. “York, please.”
He didn’t tease this time. Just held Perry’s ass open, and pushed his tongue inside,
roughly, like how he’d open Perry with his fingers.
Perry arched beneath him, panting, his hole squeezing around York’s tongue. He was
hot inside. Wet. And the tiny whimpers from him grew louder with every thrust of
York’s tongue, until Perry’s cock shoved against York’s hand, and he shook so hard that
York knew his omega was close. Again.
“Want my cock?” York rasped, grasping his own cock with his come-covered hand.
“Here?”
He pushed his tongue into Perry’s hole, and Perry shuddered, clutching at the sheets.
His throat bone-dry, York climbed onto the bed and shoved his cock between Perry’s
legs, rolling his hips. His damp head slid against Perry’s thigh, then his cock. Perry
ground back, his precome dripping onto York, his hole squeezing, needing.
York snapped his hips, grinding their cocks together. Pleasure jolted down his spine.
Perry moaned. He presented again for York, his words a litany of “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me,” Perry begged.
After thinking about his omega for so long, York’s restraint snapped. He pushed a
couple fingers into Perry’s hole, scooped out some slick, and lubed his cock up with it.
Then he grasped his cock, pushed his tip against the ring of muscle that Perry offered,
and rocked his hips, plunging into his omega with a hard thrust.
Perry opened around him, hot and tight. His voice went ragged. York hissed, pleasure
washing through his body. It wasn’t his climax yet. But it was coming soon, and from
the way Perry writhed beneath him, taking more and more of his cock, neither of them
could hold on.
York leaned in, pressing his chest against Perry’s back, anchoring Perry’s hips down.
Then he flicked his hips, the same way he’d just learned to, and Perry arched, his entire
body tensing.
“Good?” York growled.
Perry nodded wordlessly, his body squeezing around York, begging for more.
So York held on tight and increased his pace, his need building with each thrust, until
Perry shook uncontrollably beneath him. “Y-York—”
“Gonna give you a baby,” York rasped. He wanted his seed inside Perry. Wanted to
mark his omega again. He bit down on Perry’s shoulder, and Perry cried out, his cock
jerking against York’s hand.
His release dragged York over the edge. Pleasure jolted down York’s spine, turning his
vision white. He felt himself unloading into Perry, Perry clenching tight around him,
Perry’s chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
They tumbled onto the bed, York cradling his omega close. He dragged his wrists down
Perry’s chest, leaving his scent all over Perry. Felt good, making Perry all his.
Something in York’s chest roared.
“Mine,” York growled, pressing his palm over Perry’s heart.
“Yours,” Perry panted, leaning back into York’s chest.
York trailed kisses down Perry’s shoulder. Perry squirmed, dragging his shoved-down
pants against York’s legs. York had forgotten about that. He glanced down with a grin.
“Looks like we were desperate.”
Perry’s ears turned pink. “I should be sorry for starting it.”
“Nah.” York kissed Perry’s ear, his heart swelling. “This is always welcome.”
“But Caleb—”
In the hallway outside, a door clicked open. “Daddy?” Caleb asked. “Where did you
go?”
“Crap.” Perry squirmed, making a grab for his pants. “Be right there, hon!”
Very unwillingly, York slid out of his omega. He squeezed Perry’s ass, leaving a scent
marking there, too. “Be out soon,” York murmured. “Soon as I get this snake dealt
with.”
Perry laughed. York helped him with his pants, admiring his omega.
“I hope Kai and Spike have left,” Perry said, glancing at the door. “Otherwise it’ll be
very awkward explaining that to Caleb.”
“Kai and Spike...?” York frowned. Needed to think for a bit to remember why Perry
would mention them.
“They were borrowing the kitchen, remember?” Perry laughed. He straightened his
clothes, padding over to the door. “It’s fine. I’ll check on them.”
If Kai and Spike were still here... they’d probably be fucking, violently. York frowned.
“You sure you wanna go? They fuck like they have a grudge against each other.”
A year ago, Perry would’ve shaken his head and left it to York. One alpha, he could
tolerate, but two alphas in the heat of mating?
Perry shrugged and smiled now, confident. “I think I can handle it.”
York’s heart swelled for him. He waited until Perry had left their bedroom, then pulled
on some tight briefs and loose clothes, enough to hide his growing knot. He slipped out
of the door.
Perry had ushered Caleb back into the nursery. York glimpsed Perry padding into the
living room, then the kitchen. At the kitchen doorway, Perry paused, one hand on the
door frame. He peeked inside, freezing. Then he stepped back, his eyes bugging out.
York raised his eyebrows—a question. Perry mouthed, Oh.
There were noises coming from the kitchen. Grunts, some hard slapping sounds—flesh
on flesh. Someone growled something, but York wasn’t keen on hearing it. He stepped
forward, took Perry’s hand, and tugged him back to the nursery.
“They had the olive oil with them,” Perry said, still wide-eyed. “Maybe... we should get
a new bottle.”
York coughed, opening the door to where their children were. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
He figured he’d be in the nursery with Perry and the children for the next hour or so,
but that wasn’t so bad. Not when he had friends and family with him, and the love of
his life by his side.
“I love you,” Perry murmured before they stepped in.
“Love you, too,” York said.
And everything was perfect.

No one expects lace in a laundry room to change their life.
At twenty-one, Flores Williams has a few things his (non-existent) friends don't: a police
record, abusive parents, and a colorful hobby. But the worst thing about being
independent? Breaking an expensive washing machine right before your ballet
audition. Flores needs clothes, he needs a job, he needs a miracle.
As long as that miracle isn't Gareth Brown.
Ten years ago, Gareth lost his husband to a car accident. These days, he hangs around
with his firefighting team, trying to fill the void in his heart. When his friend makes a
request, Gareth agrees: Watch Tim Williams' son. Flores is a criminal, and Gareth thinks
he can stop that boy from going back into jail.
But Gareth isn't prepared for Flores to call him Sir. Add to that the fact that Flores has
never been kissed. And that Gareth increasingly wants Flores to be his boy. Gareth
shouldn't--he's far older. He's promised Tim that he wouldn't get involved with Flores.
As fate drags them into a whirlpool of lace, sweet punishments, and an accidental
pregnancy, will the growing fire between Flores and Gareth draw them closer, or will
the demons from their pasts burn them to the ground?
F LORES CREPT down the stairs in complete darkness, toeing the edge of every step. His
arms strained with the weight of his laundry. His heart thumped.
For weeks, now, he’d been using every last item in his closet. He’d been putting off
doing his laundry, wearing his clothes a fourth time just so he wouldn’t have to leave
his apartment, his laundry weighing him down, making him vulnerable.
If he could get to the shared laundry room without bumping into that son-of-a-bitch
firefighter, Gareth Brown... Flores would be safe.
Since Flores moved into this apartment complex three months ago, that bastard had
been dogging his footsteps. He’d been keeping an eye on Flores, reporting Flores’
movements to his parents. Dad had threatened to have Flores locked back in the family
home.
Flores tightened the crooked fingers on his hand. He didn’t want his father sending
people to beat him up again.
With those muscles on Gareth’s alpha body... he would have no problem dragging
Flores kicking and screaming to the Williams’ luxurious mansion-jail, stripping Flores
of the shreds of freedom he had left.
Because of Gareth, Flores’ movements in and out of his apartment were all based on
Gareth’s schedule. For the past weeks, it had worked.
There was just one problem: auditions for the upcoming ballet performance began
tomorrow. The next show wouldn’t be for another three months. Flores had to make it
into the cast... or his savings would dry up.
And he’d run out of every single piece of clean clothing he possessed.
Hence the laundry. Hence the sneaking through his own apartment building, past
Gareth’s door, and down the stairs.
Flores reached the stairwell landing, smashing his knuckles against the wall. Pain shot
through his hand. He stifled his gasp, breathing through the burn. Just a bit more to go.
I’ll wash away all the paint, and Gareth will have nothing on me.
Carefully, he inched through the basement to the common laundry room. In the
darkness, Flores couldn’t judge where the door was—his laundry basket banged against
the half-shut door, sending an echo through the hallway.
His heart stopped. Gareth lived one floor above. Had he heard...?
Flores set down his laundry hampers. He fumbled for the door handle, making sure to
open it extra slow so its squeaky hinges wouldn’t betray him. I should have just left it
open.
Like rusty hinges were wont to do, they thundered in the darkness, so loudly that
Flores’ heart sank.
“Stop it,” he hissed.
The hinges creaked and squealed. And the door opened just enough to let him through.
Flores hit the light switch, the blazing fluorescent glare making his eyes water. He
grabbed his baskets and shoved his way into the laundry room, the door groaning
behind him.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, doing this. Maybe he should have just bought some new
clothes for his audition. He didn’t have the money to, though, not without dipping into
the small fortune from his parents. And Flores absolutely hated where that money had
come from. His parents were using that same dirty money to pay Gareth. Flores
shuddered.
He headed for the machines right behind the door, where he’d left the rest of his
laundry. Flores began loading two of the industrial-sized washers. Those things were so
huge, they could fit two of him comfortably into their metal drums.
Then he added detergent to each washer, and turned them on.
His heart still thumping, Flores crouched in front of one washer, straining his ears. No
sound from the hallway. Or was that a door closing...?
“It can’t be,” he told himself. “You’re just hearing things.”
It definitely wasn’t Gareth coming to check on him again.
The washers filled up, water hissing through the pipes. The water level rose. And then
kept rising, way past the fill line. Flores stared. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
The water level looked normal on the other machine. It began to spin, colorful clothes
tumbling wetly against the glass window. On this machine, though... the water line
crept to half-full, then three-quarters full. Some of Flores’ lace panties had floated to the
top.
He gulped, grasping his phone tightly. If he left the machine alone... it would continue
to work, right?
Water had completely filled the washing drum. Flores stared at the jumble of his clothes
inside the machine, holding his breath. Then the machine began to spin, too.
Before Flores could release his breath, something silvery glinted amongst his clothes.
Metal? The dress shirts swallowed it. He waited, craning his neck for another glimpse.
Then the metal appeared again: It was a tube of paint. In the washer. And its plastic cap
was missing.
Flores cried out, dismay clogging his throat. Why is it in there?
Not only that, but it was one of his favorite shades of watercolors—a night-sky blue. As
he watched, the tube bumped into something, oozing a blue glob into the water.
The water turned blue. Paint smeared onto Flores’ shirt, the one he’d intended on
wearing to the audition.
As though the machine had no idea what just transpired, it continued to spin, folding
the paint tube into Flores’ clothes, dragging blue smudges all over white fabric. Flores
watched in horror. I need to get that out. But how?
The water turned a darker blue. Flores stood, reaching for the Stop button. He was
seconds away from powering down the machine when it gave a deep, bellowing groan.
Something loud snapped within its guts. The metal drum continued to spin, but as
Flores leaned back, he found that his spinning clothes were slowing down.
I broke the machine.
If he hadn’t signed that contract with his parents and the landlord, this wouldn’t have
been as big an issue. But because the contract said, In exchange for not accepting my
parents’ help, I will be responsible for my damages on Mr. Kent’s property, the washer’s repair
costs fell squarely on Flores’ shoulders.
Flores had assumed that nothing terrible would go wrong. Could the machine even be
fixed? How much did a new one cost?
The rock in his stomach grew heavier. He glanced around the small room—there was
no one here. Just machines lining every wall, and a tiny drainage hole in the middle of
the concrete floor. No one would know that Flores had caused the washer to break.
But there was a camera in the hallway leading to the laundry room. Mr. Kent would
find out, sooner or later. Then he would tell Flores’ parents, and they would send
Gareth to bring Flores home. They’d find a way to place Flores under house arrest
again. Maybe Flores would be locked up for another ten years.
Gods, no. His skin growing tight, Flores scrabbled at the door of the washer. He needed
to get his nice clothes out. He needed to pass that audition, gods damnit. So he could
pay for the damages.
The washer door did not budge. Flores fought down the panic closing his throat. His
hands shaking, he crawled to the side of the machine, peeking at the instructions at the
back.
There was an override switch. It was at the front of the machine, behind a plastic panel.
Flores scrambled to the panel and crouched, prying it open. He flipped the switch.
The machine clicked. Before Flores could react, the washer door swung open. A deluge
of cold water gushed out, barreling into his chest. It knocked him backward and poured
onto his face, and water flooded his nose.
Flores’ heart squeezed. He tried to hold his breath, but the pressure was too great.
Water filled his mouth. I’m going to drown.
Something grabbed his arm, something big and strong. It hauled him backward, out of
the water and into sweet oxygen. Flores coughed the water out of his lungs, tasting
paint and soap on his tongue. I’m not going to die.
He’d had three months of freedom, and he’d come so close to losing the rest of it.
“What the hell are you doing?” someone rumbled gruffly.
It was the last person Flores wanted to see, ever.

G ARETH STEPPED INTO HIS SHOES , straightening his shirt in the mirror. It was almost
midnight. The tenants in the neighboring apartments had finally fallen quiet, and
although the night was still young, he felt every bit his age of forty-one.
He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, either.
The guys at the station had invited him to a night out at a bar. It wasn’t usually Gareth’s
thing. He didn’t have any other use for his new shoes, though—fresh out of a designer
box, which arrived in its own designer bag. The shoes were pretty neat, actually—smart
gray loafers with a grid of tiny, intricate squares stamped into the synthetic leather.
Gareth wasn’t a shoe connoisseur, but this pair impressed him. Probably not the best
idea to wear them to a bar.
But he didn’t need the money. He didn’t have any dependents except for Sawyer, who
had moved out a year ago, saying he didn’t want to depend on his dad all his life.
Sawyer was doing fine right now. Gareth was proud of him. And not being reminded of
Derek every moment—that really helped.
For years, Gareth had thought he was set for life—he had a well-paying job, he had an
omega he loved, he had a beautiful son. Then Derek had gotten into in a car accident
just outside Meadowfall, and his death had ripped a hole right through Gareth’s heart.
Gareth hadn’t even gotten a chance to save him. When he’d showed up on scene with
the rest of the guys, Derek had been hunched over, blood pooled at his feet, and the
paramedics had pronounced him dead on the spot.
Sixteen years—that was how long they’d been together. Then, for the next ten years,
Gareth had raised their son by himself. He hadn’t the heart to look for another omega.
Not when he still remembered Derek’s smile, his laughter, the joy he used to bring into
Gareth’s life.
Gareth’s chest squeezed tight. He breathed out. Allowed himself a moment to

remember Derek.
Then he shoved his phone into his back pocket, and grabbed his keys. It didn’t matter
how much the shoes cost. They helped patch the hole in his heart, just a little. And that
was enough.
He was halfway down the corridor when something slammed in the building.
Downstairs?
Gareth looked over his shoulder. He was supposed to be watching the Williams’ kid.
Flower. Flores. Flores’ apartment had been silent, though—Gareth hadn’t heard
anything through the walls. Except Flores had been sneaking around more lately, trying
to avoid Gareth, trying to pretend he didn’t even exist. Like hell Gareth bought any of
it.
Gareth traced his footsteps back to his own apartment, then passed his door and
stopped at Flores’ place. Beneath the woodsy scents of alphas, the grassy scents of betas,
and the floral scents of omegas, he found a trace of peony—Flores had been here
tonight. Either he’d showed up at his apartment a few times, or he’d just been here a
second ago.
Either way, he’d been pretty damn quiet about it. Gareth knocked on the door.
“Flower?”
No answer. No scuffling sounds, either. Flores sometimes dropped things when Gareth
knocked, but his apartment was silent tonight.
Maybe he wasn’t in. Maybe the sound hadn’t even been from him.
Gareth remembered what that kid looked like, though. Thin, black hair, hazel eyes, and
skin so pale it was as though he’d never seen the sun. But he was pretty. Enough to
make Gareth stupid, if Gareth ever let himself get that drunk.
Is he nineteen? Gareth had asked Flores’ dad.
Twenty-one, had been the answer.
He needs to be watched?
He’s been charged twice as a minor, and three more times as an adult. Tim Williams’ gaze had
hardened. He’s ruined my reputation enough. The elections are coming up. My supporters are
starting to question the vandalism around Meadowfall. Make sure he doesn’t paint.
Fat lot of good that had done. Flores had slipped between Gareth’s fingers countless
times—Gareth was no policeman. He’d only managed to catch Flores with paint on his
clothes, his hands—well after the deeds were done. It had aggravated Gareth to no end.
But after the last time Gareth had mentioned the paint, Tim had said, If you can’t do this,
I’m gonna hire an actual PI to follow him. Maybe he’s best locked up in jail.
And the implications of that—having your own kid imprisoned for, what? Painting?
Vandalism? Gareth almost felt sorry for the boy, because what kind of childhood had
Flores even had? Should it be Gareth’s responsibility to keep him out of jail?
Gareth waited for a bit longer outside Flores’ apartment. He gave up and headed for the
building’s exit. If Flores wanted to land himself in jail, maybe it was his own damn
business.
Then something bellowed, like a machine gone wrong. Gareth froze with one hand on
the exit, turning around. It wasn’t about Flores this time. Off-duty or not, Gareth wasn’t
about to leave a person in trouble.
The sound had been muffled, like the accident was a floor above, or below. No one
screamed. So maybe it hadn’t come from an apartment. Gareth shoved the stairwell
door open, blinking at the shadows. Someone had turned off the lights.
He flicked the lights back on, jogging down the stairs to the basement. At the end of the
hallway, the laundry room door was ajar, and the lights were on. Something glinted on
the floor—water?
Gareth strode into the room. There was no one there, save for a machine pouring
clothes out onto the floor. No. Someone was struggling in the flood of water. Someone
thin and dark-haired.
Gareth stopped breathing. He reached down and hauled that omega out of the water.
Watched as Flores leaned over and coughed his lungs out, gasping for breath.
The washer was still draining. How the hell had it accumulated that much water? Had
it been Flores’ doing, too? Was he trying to get himself killed?
“What the hell are you doing?” Gareth snapped, unnerved.
Flores coughed again, then froze. His hands curled into fists, his entire body tensed.
Yeah, that was his usual reaction around Gareth.
“What do you want?” Flores spat, furious.
“Damned if I know,” Gareth answered. Cold soaked into his toes. He looked down,
swearing when he found his shoes submerged in two inches of blue, soapy water. Globs
of something wet smeared across his loafers.
Flores glanced over. His anger faltered for a second, replaced by dread.
“You know what this is?” Gareth asked, lifting his foot. It looked like paint. Damn it.
Gareth hadn’t even worn those shoes anywhere.
Flores blanched. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.
Sir? Gareth hadn’t heard that from Flores before. But for a moment, he imagined Flores
ceding that sort of power to him. It made his instincts rumble with approval. What the
hell was that about?
Then Flores froze. Just beyond that omega, water from the washing machine had
formed a slow-moving whirlpool in the middle of the room.
Gareth had seen whirlpools in his tub, in various sinks and drains, but he’d never seen
one in a laundry room, dragging along small pieces of colorful, translucent fabric. Lace
panties. So many of them, circling around the drainage hole. Pale blue, bright green,
some whites and blacks.
Flores flushed a deep red. He scrambled to his feet, snatching up the scraps of fabric.
Gareth stared.
Yeah, he knew Flores was twenty-one. But he’d been thinking of Flores as a kid, and...
Flores wasn’t. Not really. Not when his drenched clothes stuck to his body,
accentuating his pebbled nipples, the lean muscles of his calves and thighs. And the
sheer number of lace panties he’d picked up—fifteen? Twenty? Did he only wear lace?
He’s Tim’s kid, Gareth told himself. And you don’t need an omega. Especially not a damn
vandal.
Flores crouched, his cargo pants hugging the curve of his ass, his low waistband
revealing more lace—pink this time, slipping below the crack of his creamy ass.
Something stirred in Gareth’s gut. He tore his gaze away. But the mental image
stayed—Flores in lace, and only lace. With that thin material clinging to his tight ass. If
he was blushing over his panties, he couldn’t have been with too many alphas.
Sir, Flores had said. How tight would he be around Gareth’s cock?
Stop it. Gareth swallowed, his pants growing tighter. Where had that thought even
come from? You’re just here to get him out of trouble. Don’t you fucking dare get hard. “You
call Kent yet?”
Flores stiffened. “No. Why, are you going to tell on me?”
Gareth hadn’t decided. But he didn’t get the chance to, because footsteps thudded
down the hallway outside. A second later, someone else shoved the door open. Flores
flinched.
Gareth had only lived in this apartment complex for three months. Maybe that was why
Kyle Kent hadn’t grown on him yet. Or maybe it was the way Kent was too damn
charming to everyone he met.
“Flores?” The landlord paused in the laundry room doorway, surveying the damage.
Then he glanced at Gareth, cracking a smile. “I don’t suppose you caused this, Mr.
Brown.”
“I did it,” Flores said through gritted teeth. He looked at the floor. “I’ll pay for the
damages. But if you could add it to my bill for next month—”
As far as Gareth was aware, Flores didn’t have a steady job. He had irregular hours and
bounced from place to place, smelling like a restaurant one week, and newsprint the
next.
But even if the money wasn’t an issue, Kent would be. News of any damage by Flores
would go straight to his parents. And Tim would drop Gareth and hire that PI instead.
Flores would be jailed, sooner or later.
“I’ll foot the bill,” Gareth said. “And I’ll throw in an extra fifty bucks if you strike this
off the Williams’ report.”
Flores stared openly at Gareth.
Kent raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Here.” Gareth pulled out his wallet. He counted out some fifties, and handed
them to Kent. “Here’s a couple hundred as down-payment. Put the rest on my tab.”
Kent flipped through the bills, then pocketed them. “Sure. That doesn’t include cleanup,
though.”
Gareth shrugged. “Good enough.”
With that, Kent turned, leaving the laundry room.
Flores glowered indignantly at Gareth. “This isn’t your business.”
Not a word of thanks? Gareth sighed, leaning against the broken washer. “Look, Flower—
”
“My name is Flores!”
“—You get into trouble one more time, and your parents are gonna drop me and hire a
PI. Who’s going to follow you around worse than I do, and he’s going to land you in jail
one of these days.”
Flores glared, his lips pursing tight.
“I know you’ve been painting.” Gareth glanced at the paint-speckled pile of clothes left
behind in the washer. “I don’t know how many places you’ve gone and vandalized, but
trust me—it’s gonna catch up with you. It’ll bite you hard in the ass. What’s so damn
hard about keeping those walls clean? Why do you have to ruin them?”
Flores opened his mouth, about to protest. But he glared to the side and snapped his
mouth shut, his teeth clicking. Whatever he had to say, it made him quiver. Not with
fear. Anger.
“I can’t help you if you don’t give me a lead,” Gareth said.
“Shut up,” Flores muttered. “Go home.”
He got to his feet. Began shoving his sopping clothes into the laundry hampers. Then he
froze and pulled out a limp white shirt, with smudges of blue all over it. Flores’ face
fell, just for a second. Then his walls were back up, his shoulders hunched, his
expression back to fury.
Was Flores really the childish kid his parents had made him out to be? For the past few
months, Gareth had assumed he was.
But tonight, seeing the way he faltered, the way he knew his own limitations, the way
he was vulnerable and trying hard not to be, Gareth was starting to question Tim
Williams’ assessment of his son.
Gareth stepped over, handing a paint-covered pair of jeans to Flores. “Look, we need to
talk.”
O F ALL THE assumptions Gareth made about him, the vandalism had to be the worst.
It wasn’t vandalism. Maybe to the law, it was. But short of seeing it for yourself,
everyone equated spray paint with something trashy.
Flores wasn’t the sort to tag road signs. It didn’t interest him to scrawl random letters
on blank walls. No. Flores’ work took hours and days, sometimes weeks, and it was
always during the first drafts of the murals that he’d been caught. When his sketches
looked like thoughtless graffiti, instead of the fifteen colors of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
When those murals were almost complete, people came up to him, asking to take
pictures. Flores never wanted to be included in those photos. It would still be
incriminating, after all.
But if he could show Gareth the sort of paintings he did, if Gareth knew the social
media following Flores had amassed with his paintings alone... Would he take his
words back?
Probably not. Gareth worked for Flores’ parents. He was only interested in their dirty
money.
Flores ignored the jeans Gareth held out. “I’ll pay you back,” he spat. “We don’t need to
talk.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. Just as well—Flores didn’t want him to stick around. But
Gareth said, “You also owe me for my shoes.”
He lifted his foot again, and Flores’ heart sank. The blue paint had crept into those tiny
square divots on Gareth’s shoes—it would take forever to scrub them out. But even if
Flores did, would the shoes still be usable? They looked expensive.
“How much do I owe you?” Flores asked, not wanting to hear the answer.
Gareth glanced at the loafers. “Three hundred for this pair, and that’s with a fifty-buck
discount.”
It looked like Gareth was the same sort of person as Flores’ parents, blowing that sort of
money on shoes. Except he was a bit more lenient.
“I want that money by the end of two months,” Gareth said. “If the washer just needs a
repair, it’ll be four, five hundred. If Kent needs to replace it, that’ll be a couple grand.”
Flores swallowed. Two grand in two months? That wasn’t even counting his rent, or
utilities, or food. And the audition tomorrow... Flores looked at his ruined shirt, trying
not to imagine himself failing the audition. He didn’t have any clean clothes right now.
“You could work for me,” Gareth said.
Flores cringed. Someone like Gareth? “No. I’ll come up with the money myself.”
He gathered his clothes, reaching into the washer for the last of his things. Maybe he
could take a small load to the nearest laundromat. The buses had stopped running by
now, but maybe Flores could walk. It couldn’t be that far.
There were also other washers in the laundry room, but Flores didn’t trust himself not
to screw up even more. He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. Stuffed a few
salvageable clothes inside—a couple of paint-stained shirts, a couple of tights, some
clothes to wear after the audition. And some panties.
Gods, Gareth had seen those. They’d just... swirled in the whirlpool like something out
of a movie. Like Flores needed his kink on full display. Gareth wasn’t supposed to
know what turned Flores on.
When Flores extricated himself from the washing machine, he found Gareth still there,
staring at Flores’ legs. Or had he been staring at Flores’ ass?
Gareth blushed—the first time Flores had ever seen him flustered. He’d been looking at
Flores’ ass, then. Seriously? Flores’ bottom tingled.
As much as he hated Gareth following him around, it was undeniable that Gareth
Brown looked... tantalizing. He had muscles upon muscles. He had shrewd moss-green
eyes, a strong jaw, and cropped brown hair. He was wearing a dress shirt, but his pecs
stretched the fabric, and the buttons holding his shirt closed looked like they might pop
right off.
Flores didn’t want to ogle him. But there was a faint line at Gareth’s hips, and Flores
couldn’t keep his thoughts from dropping into the gutter.
He’d never touched an alpha’s cock before. He’d seen alphas naked, but only on the
internet. Hell, he’d never even had a boyfriend. He’d wanted to hook up with someone
in the three months since he gained his freedom, but Gareth had been tailing Flores,
cockblocking him. And on the days Gareth had been on duty, well. Flores was busy
with his paintings.
Except a second ago, Gareth had looked at Flores’ ass like he really wanted to be inside.
“You can’t expect to buy my heat,” Flores blurted.
“What?” Gareth’s gaze snapped up, locking onto Flores’ face. “Your heat?”
“You looked like you were considering it.”
How much would my heat be worth? Flores swallowed, trying to come up with a figure.
Could he save on a month’s rent? Two months?
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “I’m not buying your heat.”
“Even if I’m a virgin?”
As the last word left his lips, Flores watched Gareth. That was another secret, one that
he’d told no one. Maybe Gareth wouldn’t even think much of it.
Gareth blinked. Then his gaze raked down Flores’ body, and his breathing hitched. The
line at his hips grew thicker, bigger. It stretched his pants, an impossibly large length
that seemed to growl, I want.
Did it want to be inside Flores? Could it even fit? Flores’ throat went dry.
“Fuck,” Gareth muttered, turning away. His bulge looked even bigger from the side.
Gareth’s musk wafted through the air, riding on his applewood scent. He really liked
the thought of Flores’ untouched body.
Somehow, that sent a thrill down Flores’ spine. He wants me. No one had wanted Flores
this much before, enough to spring a hard-on right in front of him.
Flores gulped, crouching to collect his clothes. Maybe his pants rode a little low,
because Gareth swore again. He’s still looking?
When Flores glanced back, Gareth was gone, his footsteps thumping down the hallway.
Flores shoved at his own half-hard cock. He had more important things to focus on.
Things like actually getting his laundry done. And getting some sleep, so he could show
up at the audition tomorrow and still have the energy to dance.
If Gareth could see him perform... Would he change his mind about Flores? Would he
think of Flores as someone more than a stupid kid? Would he buy Flores’ heat, and...
maybe show Flores what a real heat should be like?
Flores’ insides grew hot. “Gareth’s going to send you right back to hell,” he told
himself. “He’s working for Mom and Dad. Not you. He isn’t your friend.”
That didn’t help the growing tingle between his legs, though.
A N HOUR LATER , Gareth had showered and erased the traitorous musk off himself.
Yeah, he’d jerked off. To Flores, no less.
He wasn’t proud of it. Flores was twenty years younger than Gareth. He was almost the
same age as Sawyer. He was someone vulnerable, someone Gareth was trying to
protect, and Flores had just... dropped that bombshell on Gareth. And Gareth’s brain
had short-circuited.
He’d spent twenty minutes in his shower imagining Flores naked. He’d wondered if
Flores would spread his legs. If Flores would present for him. Then he’d thought about
Flores in heat, his virgin ass in the air, begging for Gareth. He’d thought about
deflowering Flores in one thrust. He’d thought about Flores’ hole stretching around an
alpha cock, and whether he would moan, Gareth’s cock opening him wider than he’d
ever been.
Then he’d wondered how quickly he could make Flores come. And whether he could
do it again. Gareth had shot his load all over the bathroom wall, and it had felt as
though his orgasm would never end.
It had been the best release he’d had in a while.
“You sound like an old pervert,” Gareth muttered, disgusted with himself. No matter
how hard he’d scrubbed himself down after, he still felt unclean. He strode out of the
apartment building, heading for his car.
Jesse and Alec and the rest were still at the bar. It was probably only the single
firefighters who had shown up—the alphas who had found omegas tended to drop out
of bar nights, sooner than later. Well, good for them. Gareth understood. He wasn’t in
any hurry to commit again, though.
He drove out of the parking lot, turning onto the streets. Six blocks down, he glimpsed
a slight figure on the opposite side of the road. Although Meadowfall wasn’t a
dangerous place to be at 1AM, Gareth still didn’t like the thought of someone so small
out and about.
Especially when said person stepped under the streetlamp, and Gareth recognized that
bedraggled hair, the cargo pants, and the heavy plastic bag dangling from his hand.
What the hell are you doing now?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, changing lanes to make a U-turn. He waited at a
stoplight, then turned the car around, pulling up beside Flores.
Flores tensed, hurrying away. Did he think Gareth was a stranger?
Gareth rolled down the passenger side window. “Hey. Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”
Flores turned red, walking faster. Gareth sighed. You were the one offering me your heat.
“Not that kind of ride,” Gareth said dryly, reversing the car. There weren’t any other
vehicles on the road right now, anyway.
“I’m almost there,” Flores said, not looking back. “I don’t need a ride.”
“You’ve walked a damn long way. Sure you wanna walk all the way back, too? I can
save you some time.”
He wasn’t expecting Flores to agree, but Flores bit his lip, swayed. So Gareth reached
over, popping open the passenger door. “We’ll be there in a couple minutes. C’mon.”
Flores looked hesitant. He looked down at his shirt—still sopping wet. Then, slowly, he
turned, taking two hesitant steps toward Gareth’s car. He pulled the door open and set
a foot inside. “I’m all wet.”
“You’re clean, right? That’s good enough.”
Flores heaved his plastic bag in with him. Then he shut the door, hugging his bag to
himself. Looked like he’d brought his wet clothes along.
“Where to?” Even though Gareth knew.
“Sparrow’s Laundry. It’s on Walnut and Harmony.”
“That’s... another two miles away.” Gareth looked askance at him. “You were gonna
walk all the way there?”
Flores fidgeted. “There isn’t another laundromat open right now.”
“What about at the apartment?”
“No. I can’t afford to break another machine.”
“You could wait until tomorrow. There’s closer coin laundry places around.”
Flores sighed. “I don’t have time. And it’s none of your business.”
Gareth put the car into drive, studying the omega sidelong. “You won’t let me help
you.”
“All you do is follow me around,” Flores snapped, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble, damn it.” Gareth blew out his frustration. Yeah,
Flores was still a kid. Even if he was twenty-one.
“I don’t need it.”
“Your parents are gonna hire a PI next. They don’t care if you go to jail. One of these
days, someone else is gonna catch you vandalizing things, and you’ll be back under
house arrest.”
Flores pressed his lips into a thin line, looking down at his hands. “Why do you care?”
That was a tough question. “To be honest, I don’t know,” Gareth said. “But I have a kid
your age. Sawyer’s nineteen. If he’s on the verge of going to jail, you can bet I’m gonna
whoop his ass.”
“So you’re gonna whoop mine?” Flores sneaked a glance at Gareth.
Gods, they weren’t talking about that. “No,” Gareth said, even though the image of
spanking Flores had inserted itself into his brain. “I’m just gonna get on your nerves
until you stop.”
“I won’t.”
“You’d rather go to prison?”
Flores fell silent for a moment. “They don’t let you paint in prison, do they?”
“I can’t imagine they would.”
Flores twisted his fingers together, thinking. Gareth drove. Then, when the silence got
on his nerves, Gareth asked, “What’s the big rush to wash your clothes?”
“I need them tomorrow. For an—an interview.”
That surprised Gareth. He hadn’t thought Flores would be so desperate to do

something so... responsible. But he remembered Flores pulling out the white shirt from
his pile of clothes, and the dismay on his face. “You really want that job.”
“Yeah.” Flores looked away, a slow flush creeping up his neck.
“What kinda job is it?”
“Not your business.”

Gareth sighed. This again? “If your interview’s in the morning, shouldn’t you be going
to bed?”
Flores tightened his hold around his bag. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”
Oh. “So buy a set.”
Flores threw him a dirty look. “I would if I could afford to.”
“Your parents are filthy rich. You can’t afford to buy a shirt?”
“Not with that money,” Flores spat. “You can accept their dirty cash all you want, but I
won’t.”
“I’ve told you, they aren’t paying me.”
“That’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“Why would I lie?” Gareth rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you hate their business. But
the money’s already in your hands. You may as well put it to good use.”
“I’ll just donate it all to a charity,” Flores muttered.
“You haven’t, yet?”
Flores glared at his feet. Gareth had to hide his smile. It seemed that Flores had an
ounce of self-preservation in him.
Despite Flores’ prickliness, Gareth found himself asking, “What time’s your interview
tomorrow?”
“Ten.”
“I know a store that opens at nine. Why don’t you get some sleep, and we’ll get you
some clothes at nine sharp?”
Flores hesitated for a long moment. Gareth pulled up at Sparrow’s Laundry. Flores
stared at the neon lights, not getting out of the car.
“It’s gonna take half an hour for a wash, and forty-five minutes to dry,” Gareth said.
“You may as well be sleeping.”
“I’m broke.” Flores gritted his teeth.
“Pay me back next month.”

Truth be told, Gareth would’ve just bought the clothes, and given them to Flores for
free. But this thing with Flores owing him—that put pressure on Flores. It forced Flores
to stay employed, and out of trouble. Gareth liked that idea.
Flores blew out a breath, rubbing his face. “Fine.”
Finally something they could agree on. So Gareth pulled out of the parking lot, turning
them back to the apartment complex. Didn’t take long to reach home.
Flores was out of the car in a heartbeat, striding toward the building entrance.
“I’ll be knocking at 8:45,” Gareth called after him. “I don’t want to have to break your
door.”
Flores flipped him off, before disappearing into the complex. Gareth chuckled and
shook his head.
This was more progress with Flores than he’d made in three entire months.
T O G ARETH ’ S SURPRISE , Flores was waiting outside his apartment the next morning.
Flores smelled like soap and peony, and he looked a lot more relaxed. Was it the sleep?
Or the prospect of getting a job he liked?
“Hey,” Gareth said, shutting his own door. “Had breakfast?”
Flores shrugged. He didn’t seem hungry, so Gareth led the way to the parking lot.
Flores got into the car with him.
“You’re not even scowling today,” Gareth said.
Flores scowled. “There. Happy?”
Gareth stifled his laugh. “Do you smile on demand, too?”
“No.”
Well, that wasn’t surprising. Through all the time he’d known Flores—before these past
three months, and even before Flores had moved out of his parents’ place—Gareth had
never seen that omega crack a smile. He’d asked Tim about it, but Tim had just waved it
off.
Back then, Gareth had shrugged and left. But now, knowing the sort of parents Tim and
Rissa were... Gareth was starting to have second thoughts. Had Flores ever been treated
with... kindness? “Does anything ever make you happy?”
Flores shrugged.
Maybe it was just him being rebellious. Something in Gareth’s gut said it wasn’t.
He drove them to the nearest department store. Flores hopped out of the car.
“I’ll wait here,” Gareth said, handing him a couple of bills. “Grab your clothes. I’ll drop
you off at the interview place.”
“Okay.” Flores disappeared into the department store. He stepped out ten minutes
later, a wad of clothing under his arm. He dropped the change into Gareth’s palm. After
a pause, he said, “Thanks.”
That was the very first time Flores had thanked him. Maybe the kid had some decency,
after all.
“It goes onto the tab,” Gareth said. “No need to thank me.”
Flores looked down at his clothes, his shoulders sagging a little.
Shit. Gareth swallowed. “Look, why don’t I pick you up after your interview? Are you
heading home after that?”
“I’ll be fine,” Flores said. He gave Gareth the address.
It was the Meadowfall Theater, Gareth realized when they got there. “You aren’t here
for an interview.”
Flores hugged the clothes tighter against his chest. “They have a job I want.”
“What is it?”
Flores looked away. “You don’t need to know everything.”
Well, Gareth didn’t. “If I know what you like, I can keep you out of trouble.”
Flores’ eyes flashed. “I don’t always get into trouble.”
“Is that your life goal? To aggravate me until I get a heart attack?” Gareth asked dryly.
“What if I said yes?”
“I might present you with a diploma saying, ‘Dear Flower, you’ve succeeded in killing
this old man. Great work.’”
Flores’ lips twitched. Was that an almost-smile? Gareth raised his eyebrows, but Flores
shut the door, stalking away.
Gareth noted the building Flores was heading into, parked, then jogged toward the
theater’s side entrance.
Just past the doorway, there was a plain sign to the left. Auditions in the Lavender room.
Ah. Gareth had guessed right—it wasn’t exactly an interview. He was surprised that
Flores was still dancing, though. He’d never seen the boy dance, but he’d heard Tim
talk about the expensive lessons for his son.
I brought in a world-renowned mentor for him, Tim had said. Have you heard of Emil Agassi?
He’s been working on Flores. Flores will perform for my key political supporters when he gets
older.
Does Flores like dancing? Gareth had asked.
Tim had waved dismissively. It doesn’t matter. Emil says he’s been exceeding expectations. I
believe this will give me a high return on my investment.
You’ve watched him dance, right? Gareth had answered.
No, Tim had said. I don’t have time for children.
That should have been a red flag. Gareth wanted to kick himself for not speaking up at
that point.
He searched out the theater’s floor plan, located the Lavender Room, then strode back
outside. Windows lined this side of the building. Gareth counted out the rooms. Most of
the blinds were shut, but there was movement behind some open blinds. A panel of
judges sat closer to him; people danced further away in the room. Gareth couldn’t tell if
Flores was there—he’d made sure to keep his distance.
He waited for a while. Ten minutes, maybe half an hour. Then the current dancer left
the stage, and someone else stepped up. Someone who had a purposeful gait, someone
who was pale and had a shock of short black hair. Flores.
His interest piqued, Gareth padded closer to the window. He made sure to stay on the
far side of the room where the back wall was, so the room’s occupants wouldn’t notice
him.
Flores had changed out of his cargo pants and paint-stained T-shirt. Instead, a thin
white shirt clung to his chest and arms, and white tights highlighted the muscles of his
legs. Ballet shoes hugged his feet, secured by pink ribbons around his ankles.
Gareth knew that ballet dancers wore tight clothing when they performed, but... This
was an outfit that left hardly anything to the imagination. He shouldn’t see the delicate
slope of Flores’ shoulders. Or how narrow his waist was. He shouldn’t know the exact
curve of Flores’ ass.
I shouldn’t be watching this. But Gareth’s feet had anchored themselves to the ground.
Flores bowed. He took center-stage, held his arms out in one of the classic ballet
positions, and the music must’ve started, because he began to move.
Gareth couldn’t see his expression; Flores had his face turned away. But his movements
were strong and fluid, his pointed toes supporting the entirety of his weight, his legs
pulling open in a mid-leap split.
Flores arched and turned and pirouetted, and although Gareth didn’t understand ballet,
he could tell that Flores was one of the best dancers in that audition. Never mind that
he’d only seen a handful of people perform.
More than that—Flores’ dance spoke to Gareth in a way the other dancers’ hadn’t. In
Flores’ leaps and twirls, Gareth felt his desperation. He felt Flores’ hope and
resignation, and an underlying grief.
And that struck him deepest of all.
What else has happened to you? Was this why Flores wanted to keep his audition a secret?
So Gareth wouldn’t get curious?
Gareth felt as though he’d peeked into Flores’ heart, and found someone more complex
than he’d anticipated. Someone more beautiful than he wanted to admit.
He was about to step away—he’d seen too much. But he glimpsed Flores’ face. Still no
smile.
Gareth had heard that ballet dancers were supposed to smile. Maybe he’d heard wrong.
Maybe it didn’t apply to Flores.
Or maybe Flores just... couldn’t smile.
He backed away from the window, jumping when someone came up next to him. A
security guard. “Sir,” the guard said, frowning. “I’m afraid this isn’t permitted—”
“I was watching my son,” Gareth blurted. And then he wanted to kick himself, because
damn, Flores really was as old as his son. What the hell was he doing, ogling that
omega? “It’s his very first audition. I’m leaving now, though.”
Maybe the guard could see through his lie. Gareth didn’t know. He strode away, the
guard’s watchful stare prickling his neck.
He returned to the parking lot, weighing his options. Flores didn’t want to be picked up
after his audition. He was his own person. He could go anywhere he wanted.
But had he ever been complimented on his dancing? Had anyone told him that his
ballet made a difference? What if it gave him a purpose other than leaving paint all over
public walls?
Gareth’s phone buzzed—a new message from Tim Williams. There’s been a new piece of
graffiti sighted near the fire station. Last chance, Gareth. Get that boy under control, or I’m
hiring a PI. He’s a nuisance.
Gareth stared at the message, scrubbing his face. How do I convince him to stop?
He must’ve taken forever to think, because Flores stepped out of the theater building,
back in his cargo pants and stained T-shirt. His audition outfit had looked a lot better
on him.
Flores had stared at Gareth’s bulge last night. He was a virgin. If his curiosity was any
indication... could Gareth make a deal with him?
His cock growing, Gareth started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. One way to find
out.
F LORES STEPPED out of the theater, his heart sore. There was always a price to dancing.
He’d known, even before signing up for the audition, the toll this would take on his
heart. Emil was dead. It didn’t stop his voice from echoing in Flores’ head. Lift your chin,
Flower. Jump higher. Follow my example. I want to think, ‘Wow!’ I want you to fly like a bird. I
want you to be free.
If Emil had seen that audition, he would’ve said, You should have smiled.
Flores couldn’t. Not when his teacher was gone. For years, Emil was the closest person
Flores had had to a friend. In a mansion occupied by his parents and their blabbing
servants, Flores didn’t have anyone he could trust. Not until Emil came along.
Emil had taught Flores the intricacies of dancing. He’d shown Flores how to grow
stronger. More than that, he’d made Flores feel like his efforts counted. He’d made
Flores feel loved, he made Flores feel like he mattered.
Mom and Dad never had time for Flores. They’d barely glanced at his homework. They
wrote out checks for his textbooks. When five-year-old Flores had said, You don’t love
me, Mom had said, I do. Then she’d turned away and made the next call to her client.
Emil had said, Do what makes you happy. Every Saturday afternoon, Flores would look
forward to his visits. He’d practice on the barre all week, and when Emil stepped in, the
first thing he did was ruffle Flores’ hair and ask, Has the Flower grown taller?
They would practice a dance together. Emil would teach Flores something new. Flores
had never known how old Emil really was, except Emil had white hair and big ears,
and his face was all wrinkled. A time or two, Emil would argue with Flores’ parents
behind closed doors. Flores never could hear what Emil was talking about, but when he
emerged from the meeting room, he would smile at Flores again.
Thinking back on it, maybe Emil had been arguing for Flores’ sake. It was hard to tell
now. Hard to even breathe, if Flores thought about him too much.
He looked up at the sky, blinking hard. The audition was over. He needed to go home,
and maybe cry his eyes out. He wished Emil was still here.
A silver SUV stopped in front of him. The door popped open. Flores almost ignored it,
but he didn’t feel up to walking the whole way home. So he climbed into the car, and
sank into the passenger seat.
Gareth’s smile fell. “What happened? Did you fail the audition?”
Flores shrugged. “They said they’ll contact me if they want me to show up again.”
Gareth blinked. “That’s why you look like a wreck?”
Flores huffed. If only. “That’ll probably be better.”
“So why...?”
Part of Flores wanted to ignore Gareth. Part of him wanted to shock Gareth with the
information. But part of him just wanted to curl into a ball and not hurt so much.
“My teacher’s dead,” Flores said, the words painful on his tongue.
Gareth sucked in a sharp breath. “Damn, son. Emil?”
The name alone fractured Flores’ heart.
Gareth swore and clicked off his seatbelt. Then he reached over and slid his arm around
Flores, pulling Flores tight against him.
It was awkward, leaning across the center console. But Gareth’s chest was broad and
warm, his hold sturdy. Despite how much he’d followed Flores around, Gareth felt...
safe.
Flores pressed his face against Gareth’s shoulder, closing his eyes. The applewood scent
comforted him somehow. Beneath that, there was the faint ash and smoke from
Gareth’s firefighting job. Flores hadn’t known that Gareth wore those scents, too.
Gareth held him quietly. He didn’t accuse Flores of anything, he didn’t call Flores by
that nickname. Flores allowed himself to cry, just a little. He remembered his mentor,
and having a friend. He remembered when Emil would give him silly grins. He
remembered feeling important, because he mattered to someone.
Gareth stroked Flores’ hair, his heart thumping against Flores’ chest. In that moment,
Gareth felt human. He had a heart and a pulse. His chest wasn’t rock-hard, but warm
and firm. His breathing had synced with Flores’. Gareth was vulnerable, too.
Maybe... Gareth wasn’t so terrible a person.
When the last of his misery passed, Flores pulled reluctantly away. Then he regretted it,
because Gareth had been so warm against him. He scrubbed at his eyes. “Thanks.”
He thought Gareth might add this to the tab, but Gareth shrugged. “Home?”
“I guess.”
Halfway out of the parking lot, Gareth changed directions. “Wait. I’ve got a better place
to go.”
Flores blinked tiredly. The audition and his grief had both drained him. “Where?”
“Just wait. It’ll be cool.”
Gareth took them downtown, to where the quaint shops were. Flores mostly visited the
downtown area at night—that was when the alleys were silent, and he had some
privacy to paint.
In the day, downtown Meadowfall bustled with people. Purple flowers had blossomed
on the roadside trees, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread wafted through the air.
Gareth parked next to a small music shop. Olivier’s Strings. Flores stared. “This is the
cool place you were talking about?”
Gareth grinned. “Nah. Don’t get me wrong—Ollie’s Strings is cool, too, but we need
some soul food. The bakery’s next door. C’mon.”
I really can’t add to my tab right now. But because Gareth had given him a hug when he
needed one, Flores decided to humor the guy.
Everything about Ben’s Buns was cheeky: from the tan butt-looking buns that framed
the doorway, to the large, faded butt-buns painted on the floor, to the butt-shaped
lamps hanging from the ceiling. The trays the customers used to pick buns were shaped
like bottoms, and the clear acrylic doors for the pastry displays were opened with bum-
shaped handles.
Flores stared. “You’re not... hitting on me, right?”
Gareth laughed. “Nah. This is just a really good bakery.”
Flores wandered down one aisle, looking at the bottom-shaped pastries: from twin tarts
to butt-shaped pizzas, to buns that had fused together while baking. There were
pastries that didn’t involve bottoms, too: individual fruit tarts, chocolate Swiss rolls, and
strawberry slices tucked into glazed croissants, held together by whipped cream.
Flores paused at the strawberry croissants, drawn by their vibrant colors and just how
absurdly pretty they looked. I can’t pay $3.25 for that.
He could almost taste the sweetness of the strawberries, though, and the airiness of the
whipped cream. And the powdered sugar sprinkled on the croissants looked like it
would puff into the air if he so much as breathed on them.
“Want that?” Gareth asked.
Flores shook his head vigorously, stalking away. “No. I don’t need anything from
here.”
He was halfway down the next aisle, when a child said, “Uncle Carrot!”
“It’s Gareth,” Gareth said dryly. “But hey, Caleb. York, Perry, Zoe.”
Uncle Carrot? Flores made his way back into the previous aisle, blinking when he found
Gareth crouched in front of a small child, his butt-shaped tray balanced in one hand.
Caleb’s parents stood behind him—they were Flores’ neighbors. York seemed to be on
Gareth’s team at the station. His omega, Perry, was a professor at Meadowfall College.
“You’re taller than when I last saw you,” Gareth told Caleb. “Did you learn anything
new today?”
Caleb peered at Gareth through his large glasses. “Papa said every alpha has a snake.
Will I get one, too?”
Behind Caleb, Perry groaned, covering his face. “York! You did not do that!”
“Snake?” Gareth glanced up at York.
York coughed, turning pink. “Trouser snake. He asked.”
“Ah.”
“Will I?” Caleb asked Gareth. “Do you have a snake?”
“I, uh.” Gareth cleared his throat.
Yes, he had one hell of a ‘snake’. And Flores had thought about it more than he should.
“Daddy doesn’t wanna show me his snake,” Caleb said disappointedly. “I like snakes.”
“Oh, gods,” Perry mumbled into his hands.
Gareth fidgeted. “Well. At least Sawyer’s never asked me that.”
“Lucky you,” York muttered. “You’ll get your own someday, Caleb.”
Was Sawyer Gareth’s nephew? Or was Gareth actually a dad? It was weird, thinking of
Gareth as a father. It made sense, since Gareth had silver streaks through his hair and
crow’s feet at his eyes—he was old enough to be one. But Flores had never seen him
with children before.
“Oh, oh! I saw on TV,” Caleb said, wriggling. “You blow on a pipe and the snakes
follow you! Can I blow on a pipe, Daddy?”
Perry groaned. “York, do something.”
“You blow on a...” Gareth pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing at Caleb’s parents.
“Seriously? You let Caleb talk about snakes all the time?”
“What’s wrong with snakes?” Caleb asked, flinging his hands up. “They get big!”
York rubbed his face. Gareth coughed, looking away. Maybe it was Gareth’s discomfort,
or maybe it was Caleb’s utter innocence. But it tickled something in Flores’ chest. A
strange sound bubbled out of his mouth.
Gareth turned, meeting Flores’ gaze. Then his eyebrows crawled all the way to his
hairline. “You’re smiling.”
Flores frowned, touching his mouth. Was he? “I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.” Gareth patted Caleb on the shoulder and stood. He glanced shrewdly
at the boy, then back at Flores. Then he stepped over, stopping only when their shoes
bumped.
He was inches away, and tall—a full head taller than Flores. Flores had to crane his
neck to meet Gareth’s eyes.
“You remember how to smile?” Gareth murmured, touching a warm, callused fingertip
to the corner of Flores’ lips.
Flores stopped breathing. His senses had all focused on the one point of heat on his
face—the warmth of Gareth’s finger radiating into his skin. His nerves sizzled.
Gareth set his bread tray on top of the display case. Then he cupped Flores’ face,
pressing his thumbs against either side of Flores’ mouth, dragging the corners of his lips
upward.
“This is how you smile,” Gareth said, so quietly that Flores almost couldn’t hear him.
“But only do it when you’re happy. Otherwise it’ll just be a lie.”
Gareth had never been this gentle with him before. Aside from that hug in the car, he’d
never just... held Flores. Like Flores was someone important.
Flores’ heart thumped. He has ulterior motives. But Gareth’s eyes were warm, kind. No
one but Emil had ever looked at him like this, with no judgment at all. Just care. And a
part of Flores cracked open—the part that craved touch, the part that craved someone
wanting him.
Gareth dragged his thumb across Flores’ lower lip, leaving tingles through his skin.
Flores stopped breathing. And Gareth pressed down, parting Flores’ lips. Not once did
he look away from Flores’ face.
Is he going to kiss me?
It seemed ridiculous. But Flores couldn’t help noticing Gareth’s pink tongue darting
across his lips. What would it feel like to have Gareth’s mouth on his? Gareth was
experienced. He knew how to make a person feel good.
I’ve never been kissed, Flores wanted to say. Kiss me.
Except it was also insane. Of all the people in the world, Gareth Brown was the most
dangerous. He could seduce Flores, and lower Flores’ guards. He could get Flores to
spill the rest of his secrets.
Is it worth it? His heart pounding, Flores thought about leaning in. What would Gareth
do?
“Are you going to kiss him?” Caleb asked right next to them. “Did you show him your
snake?”
Flores startled and stepped back. Gareth released Flores like he’d been burned. Flores
couldn’t tell if it was disappointment flashing through Gareth’s eyes.
But Gareth’s gaze settled heavily on him, shrewd and dark. It felt as though he was
seeing too much.
I messed up. His pulse tripping, Flores hurried out of the bakery, his skin three sizes too
small.
On the sidewalk, he fidgeted. He could leave now. Or he could hitch a ride back to the
apartment, and see if Gareth would touch his face again. Or maybe... if Flores made the
first move, maybe he could fuck Gareth, and still retain the upper hand.
He might buy my heat. Flores’ entire body tingled. Maybe he’ll show me that snake.
Gareth took a while to leave Ben’s Buns. Flores squirmed when he did, looking at the
sidewalk, the car, everything but Gareth’s eyes.
Gareth unlocked the car. Flores didn’t wait for him. He climbed into the passenger seat
and clicked his seatbelt on.
Then Gareth got into the car and shut the door, and all Flores could smell was his
applewood scent, and a hint of fresh sweat. Gareth’s warmth radiated across the center
console; his jeans stretched around his thick thighs. Maybe this was the wrong move.
“My heat’s next week,” Flores blurted.
Gareth froze, his key halfway to the ignition. “Yeah, and?” Maybe it was just Flores, but
Gareth’s voice sounded strained.
“It’s still available if you want to buy it.”
“Not interested.” Gareth shoved his key all the way into its receiving hole.
There was a hint of musk in the air. Was it Gareth’s, or Flores’? “I’ve never even been
kissed.”
Gareth clenched his jaw. “Save it, Flower.”
Flores ignored the sting of that nickname. “I could sell it to you for half-price.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
But that made anger burn in Flores’ chest. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Don’t devalue yourself like that,” Gareth growled. His fist tightened around the
bakery bag; paper crinkled. Gareth raked his gaze down Flores’ chest.
Flores’ ass grew damp. Gareth did want him. “So I can sell my heat to anyone else?”
“No. Ask me again in six months,” Gareth said. Then he met Flores’ gaze. “I’ll make it
worth your while.”
Flores’ blood swooped between his legs. “What if I want it now?”
“No.”
“What am I going to do next week?” Flores muttered. “Shove my fingers up my ass?”
Gareth hissed, his pupils blowing wide. “Stop it.”
But Gareth’s interest made Flores reckless. “Or you’ll, what? Spank me?”
“Change of topic,” Gareth said, gripping his steering wheel so tight that his knuckles
grew white. But there was a bulge in his pants now. It really was some ‘snake’. “Your
tab.”
Yeah, there was that. “Does it get lower if you bend me over your knee?”
“Fuck. No.”
That bulge was still growing. Gods. Gareth wanted to spank him. The air in Flores’
lungs rushed out. “It’ll be better if I wear lace, right?”
Gareth turned, his eyes burning, his voice dangerously low. “Say another word about
this, and you’ll regret it.”
Flores wanted to push him further. But that look in Gareth’s eyes... it was a threat and a
promise rolled into one. And it melted all of Flores’ insides, until he could think of
nothing but Gareth. Gareth owning him, Gareth making him obey. Gareth spreading
him open, plunging his cock inside Flores’ ass.
“Six months,” Flores whispered. “That’s when my next heat is. I’ll save myself, no other
alphas. You promise to fuck me then?”
Gareth swallowed hard. He looked away. “Only if you promise not to paint.”
Flores couldn’t do that. But what he could do... was push Gareth until Gareth snapped.
Flores’ pulse pounded between his legs. What would happen if Gareth lost control?
He could do that sooner. Maybe even before his heat next week.
“I promise,” Flores said, forcing himself to stay still.
Gareth looked suspiciously at him. “That’s too easy, coming from you. You’re planning
something.”
“Nothing.” Flores shrugged.
Gareth gritted his teeth. Flores pretended to zip his lips.
At the back of his mind, an idea began to form.

G ARETH STARED at the strawberry-filled croissant in his fridge. It had been sitting there
for the past two days—he’d planned on giving it to Flores on the day of the bakery visit.
Maybe he shouldn’t have touched Flores’ mouth. It had been soft. Velvety beneath his
thumb, pliant. The memory of it had burned into his skin, and Gareth had wanted to
know if the croissant would make Flores smile. He’d wanted to touch those soft lips
again. Crazy thoughts.
Then Flores had pulled that selling-his-heat crap, and Gareth had almost blown his
load, thinking about Flores in lace. Flores volunteering to stretch himself across
Gareth’s lap, offering his heat-soaked ass.
Nothing else had spoken so viscerally to Gareth’s instincts. Gareth’s desire had taken
him by surprise, and he’d desperately needed to pin Flores down in the car, and fuck
him the way he’d been begging Gareth to.
Gareth had imagined Flores’ sweet, tight ass, his choked-off moan, and he’d been on
that knife edge of temptation.
It was dangerous, like a slippery slope. A slippery hole. Gods, shut up.
Gareth had brought the croissant home and chucked it in the fridge. Then he’d been on
duty all of yesterday, and hopefully the croissant’s plastic box had kept it somewhat
fresh.
Gareth checked his phone. No messages from Flores. There was one from York, though.
Looks like someone added to that graffiti patch on Licorice St. Know who did it?
Annoyance flickered in Gareth’s gut. Damn that omega. “Six months, Flower. Is that so
much to ask?”
It looked like heat-fucking was off the table. And Gareth had been looking forward to it,
too. So much for keeping Flores out of trouble.
Disappointed, Gareth shoved his phone into his pocket, heading out of his apartment.
Flores was in today—bumps had sounded in the apartment next door. Probably Flores
walking into a table, or something. Gareth shoved that omega out of his mind.
He stepped into the early-morning sunshine, making a beeline for his car. Gareth
stopped short when he found his car three shades darker and the windshield full of bird
crap—no, that wasn’t it.
Someone had scribbled all over Gareth’s SUV in thick black ink. Gareth Brown is a dick.
Two snake drawings. A dick sketch. Rude words covered most of the silver doors, and
on the windshield, someone had drawn a giant dick in white marker ink. Complete
with hairy balls, and drops of fluid spilling out the tip.
Gareth stopped short, staring in disbelief.
The damage wasn’t constrained to the doors and windshield, either. Curse words
peppered the hood of his car, scowling faces covered his headlights, and cartoon
animals flipped him off from the edges of the windows. The rear door had a drawing of
someone’s ass on it, hands spreading it open.
Anger lodged in his gut, growing hotter as his reality sank in.
Three days ago, Gareth had washed his car, painstakingly waxing every surface of it.
He’d wiped down the windows until they sparkled, cleaned the windshield wipers of
all the caked-on dirt, and even polished his headlights. And now there were swear
words behind the door handles, and fuck if Gareth was taking any of this lying down.
It’s permanent marker, isn’t it? This is what he was planning. Gareth spun around, anger
burning up his throat. I help that kid out, and this is how he repays me?
“Ah, Gareth,” Kyle Kent said, jogging up to him. “I’ve been getting complaints about
your art project. Your neighbors have signed a petition. If you could get your car
cleaned off ASAP, that’ll be great.”
Kent held out a sheet. Gareth snatched it out of his hand, turning away. “Fine. I’ll see to
it.”
Like Gareth needed this rubbed in his face. From his landlord, no less. Anger raked
through his chest, threatening to overflow.
He’d bought that kid a croissant. He’d asked York if he could borrow Caleb, just to see
if Caleb could thaw Flores out a little. He’d fucking touched Flores’ face, trying to get
him to smile again.
And this—ink all over his car, curse words and indecent drawings like a damn child had
found some crayons.
Gareth stormed back into the building, passed his own apartment, and hammered on
Flores’ door so hard that it rattled on its hinges. “Open up, damn you!”
Something crashed further in the apartment. Gareth seethed. Footsteps thumped. Then
the door swung open, and Flores stood in the doorway, his eyes wide, his chest
heaving. Gareth barely noticed Flores’ loose T-shirt, his dark underwear.
“What’s wrong?” Flores asked, innocent like he never fucking was.
Gareth prowled in, backing him into the apartment. He slammed the door behind them.
“You don’t know what’s fucking wrong?”
Flores’ gaze darted to the door, then back to Gareth. His throat worked. “No. I don’t.”
But there was a telltale flush creeping up his throat, and he was breathing hard. Gareth
grabbed his thin arm. Shoved him up against the wall, and crowded so close that there
was hardly air between them. “What the fuck did you do to my car?”
Flores gulped. “Nothing.”
But there were blotches of paint on his face. Black ink on his neck. Bits of white on his
hands. Gareth leaned in, needing to punish this boy for his sheer nerve.
“Liar,” Gareth whispered, fury pounding through his veins. He wanted Flores to be
sorry. He wasn’t beating Flores up. But there was another option.
Gareth spun Flores around and pinned him to the wall, cracking his palm hard against
Flores’ ass. Flores gasped.
“I won’t stop until you’re sorry,” Gareth rasped, smacking him again on the same
cheek, just as hard.
Flores cried out. Gareth held him down, landing a third blow, then a fourth. Flores
whimpered, trying to squirm away. But Gareth only held on tighter.
It hurt. That was good. Flores needed to be sorry.
Gareth switched hands. He pinned Flores’ arm behind his back, cracking his palm
across Flores’ untouched asscheek. The fabric was rough. Lace? Damn kinky bastard.
“Tell me you’re sorry,” Gareth growled, squeezing Flores’ wrist—a threat.
“No,” Flores hissed. “I’m not.”

What the fuck? All that damage to Gareth’s car, and he had the nerve to say he wasn’t
sorry? Gareth snarled, slapping Flores harder on the ass, so hard that Flores flinched
and cried out. “You fucking drew on my car, you bastard.”
“I didn’t,” Flores said through gritted teeth.
Like hell he didn’t. “You need it to hurt more?” Gareth whispered. He yanked Flores’
panties down, just enough to expose his bare, pink asscheeks. So there would be
nothing in the way of his punishment.
Flores wheezed, his ears growing pink. Gareth struck the smooth curves of his ass,
harder, until his palm stung and Flores trembled.
There was something oddly satisfying about this. Watching Flores’ body react to him.
Watching Flores’ ass turn pink, his cheeks jiggling with every impact. Gareth spanked
him harder, just to see Flores’ ass tighten. Then he spanked Flores again, and again, and
the heat in his gut swelled, changing. I can’t believe I’m enjoying this.
Flores clenched his fists. As his knuckles whitened, the lines of marker ink stood out on
his hands, lines that Gareth had previously missed.
“Own up,” Gareth growled. “And I’ll go easy on you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Flores hissed. “Sir.”
Gareth’s insides grew hot. He liked the thought of having power over Flores. Because it
meant he got to spank Flores harder. Watch his ass turn red. “Didn’t anyone teach you
not to lie?” Gareth hissed. Then he struck Flores hard on the ass, over and over, until
the sound of flesh on flesh filled the room.
Flores arched against the wall, musk wafting off his skin.
Gareth paused. That wasn’t right. Flores shouldn’t smell like arousal. He reached
around, cupping Flores’ throat with one hand. Squeezed lightly, just enough to show
Flores who was in charge. Flores swallowed against his fingers, breathing shallowly, his
hair smelling faintly like sweat.
“Tell me you’re sorry,” Gareth growled in his ear. Then he grasped Flores’ asscheek,
squeezing it so hard that it had to hurt.
Flores’ musk billowed between them. His chest heaved, and his entire body arched
against Gareth’s front.
“Please,” Flores whispered.

What the hell? Gareth had been the one dealing him pain. “Please what?”
“Punish me,” Flores croaked.
And the lace between his thighs grew damp.

G ARETH SCARED HIM . Gareth was big, angry, dangerous, and part of Flores wanted to
run.
But despite how much Flores’ ass stung, despite the fury rippling off Gareth, Gareth
was still touching Flores. His grip on Flores’ arm was firm, but surprisingly, it didn’t
hurt. And the way he spanked Flores, every strike vibrating straight into Flores’ cock...
Flores had never been in his panties around anyone else. Hell, he’d never had an alpha
look at his bare ass. When Gareth had ripped his panties down, Flores had stilled, his
cock growing heavy. And Gareth had slapped his ass, skin on skin. Flores hadn’t
known how to deal with the pain and humiliation twisting down his nerves. His cock
had filled up anyway, trapped in the folds of his panties.
“Tell me you’re sorry.” Gareth’s breath raked down his ear, hot and enticing.
Flores couldn’t. He wanted to submit to Gareth. He wanted to obey Gareth, beg Gareth
to use every inch of his body. But Gareth would say no. The only way Gareth would
touch Flores was if he was furious.
Flores must’ve taken too long to answer, because Gareth grasped his stinging ass,
callused skin on sensitive flesh. Pain throbbed through Flores’ nerves. Then Gareth
squeezed, and it pulled Flores’ cheeks apart, exposing his soaked, desperate hole.
Flores wheezed, every ounce of himself focused on that spot. Just waiting for Gareth to
touch his hole. Push inside.
“Please,” Flores begged.
Gareth’s fingers tightened, spreading him wider. Flores forced himself not to whimper.
“Please what?” Gareth rasped.
And there it was. Gareth asking what Flores wanted. Gareth was standing so close that
his warmth burned into Flores’ entire body. Flores shuddered, his cock shoving out of
his panties, his ass aching with how much slick it made in preparation for Gareth’s
cock.
Fuck me, Flores wanted to say.
“Punish me,” was what came out instead. Punish me with your cock.
Flores’ hole fluttered with anticipation. Some of his slick leaked out, and Gareth hissed.
“Fuck. What the hell is this?”
His grip tightened. He shoved Flores’ lace panties between his asscheeks, right against
Flores’ hole. Flores stopped breathing. He’s touching me there.
But Gareth pulled his hand away, and cracked his palm across Flores’ ass. “I punish
you, and you fucking get wet?”
“I told you,” Flores said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t do it.”
It worked, because Gareth growled, slapping Flores’ ass so hard that pain tore through
Flores’ nerves. His cock throbbed.
Then Gareth stepped back. For a moment, Flores feared that he’d pushed Gareth too far
and Gareth would leave. But Gareth grasped Flores’ arm, hauling him toward the
couch. There was a bulge in his pants.
Gareth was getting off on this, too. Flores throat went dry.
Gareth sat and yanked Flores across his lap, pulling Flores forward until his ass was in
the air, exposed, his panties clinging to the tops of his thighs.
“You want me to fuck you,” Gareth rasped, his eyes burning into Flores, reading too
much of him. “I’m gonna show you how not to do it.”
Then he began a hard, relentless spanking, jolts and jolts of pain shooting down Flores’
spine. Flores arched, his cock somehow still hard, shoving against Gareth’s thigh.
Gareth appeared not to notice. But damn if Flores didn’t need to come, stretched out
bare in front of Gareth, his cock so close to Gareth’s hands. If Gareth spread Flores’ ass,
he would see Flores’ hole, all wet and ready for him. Gareth could touch him inside.
Flores’ cock grew so hard, it hurt. He reached down for it, except Gareth caught his
wrist, pinning it behind his back.
“This is your punishment,” Gareth snarled.
Flores leaked. As Gareth spanked him, he inched slowly forward. Rocked his tip against
Gareth’s leg, ever so slightly, so precome smeared across Gareth’s jeans, lubing it up.
When Flores’ cock brushed the slippery, coarse material, pleasure hissed through his
nerves.
“Stop that.” Gareth reached between Flores’ legs, wrapping his hot hand around Flores’
cock.
Flores arched, his breath fleeing his lungs. Gareth is touching my cock. No one had
touched his cock before. Gareth’s skin was rough, hot. Flores almost came right into his
palm. “Ahh—”
Except Gareth angled Flores’ cock down between his thighs, and trapped it with his
panties. So it strained downward by itself, throbbing and neglected.
Flores groaned, writhing. “Please, please—”
“You’re gonna fucking learn something from this,” Gareth rasped. Then he reached
over Flores, and grasped one of the whiteboard markers off the coffee table.
At first, Flores thought Gareth would draw random crap on him. Instead, Gareth
pushed the end of the marker between Flores’ asscheeks, sliding smooth plastic against
his hole. Then he wedged that length between Flores’ cheeks to hold it there—a cool,
foreign length that wasn’t Gareth. But it anchored Flores’ attention to his most intimate
parts, as though Gareth knew where Flores needed to be touched.
Flores wheezed. And Gareth began the spanking again. Except this time, the impact of
his hand traveled through Flores’ ass and into the marker, and the marker pressed
against his entrance, reminding Flores every second that it was there.
“Please fuck me,” Flores whimpered, his nails digging into Gareth’s jeans. “I’m so
fucking wet for you.”
Gareth’s breath hitched. He spanked Flores harder. “No.”
But the bulge in his pants grew thicker, shoving against Flores’ hip. Gods, it was big.
And hard.
Flores’ cock grew so full, it ached. Gareth continued the spanking until Flores’ ass hurt,
and his hole leaked, dripping slick down his balls, to his cock.
There was so much musk in the air that Flores didn’t know if it belonged to him, or
Gareth, or to both of them. He squeezed his legs together, barely rubbing his cock. It
strained against his thighs, needing more.
“Gareth,” Flores begged. Then he ground against Gareth’s bulge, just to feel how big it
was against his own body. Gareth swore, snatching the marker out from between
Flores’ asscheeks.
“No more of that,” Gareth muttered. “You don’t fucking learn.”

Gareth ran his thumb around the smooth, rounded end of the marker. Then he plunged
it between Flores’ cheeks, pressing its end against Flores’ hole. Flores arched, shocked
and so aroused that precome squirted from his cock.
The pressure increased against his hole. Gareth pushed harder, forcing Flores’ hole to
open around the marker. Then it was inside him, sliding deeper. Flores cried out, his
hole clenching, his entire body focused on that thing Gareth had put inside him.
“This is all the fucking you’re gonna get,” Gareth rasped, shoving the marker deep. “If
you like drawing with this thing so much, fucking sleep with it.”
Flores shuddered. No one had touched him inside before. The marker wasn’t Gareth,
but it was controlled by Gareth, and it meant something of Gareth’s was inside him. It
was so different from touching himself—Flores had no idea where the marker would
touch him next. How deep it would go.
Then Gareth hit a spot inside Flores, and a jolt of bliss seared through his body. Flores
shuddered, his balls pulling tight, his entire body on the edge.
“Gareth,” he choked, shaking uncontrollably. “Gareth, please.”
“Gods,” Gareth rasped, plunging the marker into Flores. Then he grasped Flores’ ass
and spread him open, and there was no doubt he could see how Flores’ hole had
opened around his marker.
A damp spot soaked through Gareth’s pants. Flores touched that spot and squeezed it,
and Gareth thrust the marker deep, right against Flores’ prostate.
Pleasure ripped through him. Flores’ spine arched, his toes curled, and he was coming
and coming, a scream tearing from his lips. And the marker continued to move inside
him, pushing all the come out of him, and then some.
He didn’t know how long he blanked out for. When Flores could finally think again, he
found himself still on Gareth’s lap, Gareth’s bulge thick against his hip. Musk had
saturated the air between them.
Gareth fucked me. Flores gulped. He saw me come.
After months of snapping at Gareth, after months of believing Gareth was the scum at
the bottom of his shoe... Flores had sunken to this. He’d drawn on Gareth’s car, dressed
up in his panties, and let Gareth beat his ass.
Gareth’s revenge had been to pull Flores’ panties down and make him come.
Am I still a virgin if he fucked me with a marker?

Embarrassed, Flores clambered off Gareth’s lap, unable to meet his eyes.
Gareth cleared his throat. Then he grasped Flores’ arm and dragged him to the front
door. “C’mon.”
“Where’re we going?” Flores yelped, fumbling to straighten his panties.
Gareth’s voice was still hoarse. “Not far.”
The door opened. Gareth pulled Flores into the hallway, and Flores barely had time to
shut his apartment door. They strode the few steps over to Gareth’s apartment.
In the time it took for them to get there, Flores squirmed, feeling naked. Anyone could
open their door and see him in his underwear, or the hard line in Gareth’s pants.
Before their neighbors glimpsed them, Gareth unlocked his apartment, dragging Flores
inside.
Flores’ blood swooped between his legs. He thought Gareth would bring him into the
bedroom—that was where the condoms were, right? But Gareth pulled him into the
kitchen instead. Is he going to bend me over right here? Is he even going to use a condom?
Flores gulped.
Gareth opened the fridge.
Don’t tell me he stores his condoms in there. To Flores’ surprise, Gareth pulled out a plastic
box, and shoved it at him. “Eat that.”
Then he released Flores and strode out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of musk in his
wake.
Flores stared at the clear disposable box. In it sat the strawberry croissant from Ben’s
Buns, the one Flores had been eyeing the other day. Gareth had asked if Flores wanted
it. Flores had said no.
But Gareth had... bought the pastry for Flores anyway.
Flores turned the box around in his hands, disbelieving. I thought he’s angry with me. He
popped it open, then stuck a glazed strawberry in his mouth. Sweetness burst across his
tongue. Flores moaned, dipping his finger into the thick cream.
It wasn’t whipped cream, he realized, but sweet, cold custard. Flores licked it off his
finger, suddenly hungry. Had Gareth planned on fucking him, then feeding him this to
sweeten him up?
Elsewhere in the apartment, a door slammed. Curious, Flores padded out of the
kitchen.
Most of the doors in Gareth’s apartment had been left open. There wasn’t much around,
just a desk here, a couch there—far less than what Flores expected. Gareth was rich
enough to fully furnish this place.
There weren’t even any photos, save for one at the start of the hallway—a much-
younger Gareth with another man, and a baby between them. Gareth had looked far
happier back then. What had happened to Gareth’s omega?
Flores left the photo and padded down the hallway.
After the sparseness of the rest of the apartment, Flores blinked at Gareth’s bedroom.
Heavy blackout drapes had been drawn open, and light poured through the window to
illuminate a king-sized bed. There was a closet here, another desk, and Gareth’s laptop.
The bathroom door was shut.
Flores followed the trail of applewood and musk, tiptoeing through the bedroom. He
was about to reach for the bathroom doorknob to test it, when a groan rumbled in the
bathroom.
Something heavy thumped against the door, inches away. Flores jumped. Gareth was in
there. Anytime now, Gareth would open the door, and find Flores in his bedroom. He
would yell at Flores and kick him out. Flores’ heart thudded.
But the door didn’t open. The bathroom stayed silent. Carefully, Flores pressed his ear
to the crack of the doorjamb. Then, he heard the hitch of someone’s breathing.
“Fuck,” Gareth whispered.
I should go. But Flores rarely heard Gareth this vulnerable. Gareth was always scowling
around him, frowning like Flores could only mess up all the time. Gareth had his life
together. He was older and richer. He was muscle upon muscle, and his spanking had
left Flores’ ass throbbing, even now.
Behind the door, there came a bitten-off groan. Then a slick, rhythmic sound—back and
forth, back and forth. Flores hadn’t expected Gareth’s cock to make a sound. His own
was uncut, his tip too sensitive to be stroked. Things were silent when he jacked off. But
he’d seen videos of some cut guys stroking their cocks—it sounded exactly like Gareth’s
did.
And now Flores kind of knew what Gareth’s cock looked like. Thick, slippery, with its
blunt, exposed tip growing darker the more Gareth stroked it. And it would be salty
with his precome, and velvety-smooth. The thought sent a hot shiver down Flores’
spine.
Gareth’s breath rushed past the doorjamb—as though he was breathing against the
door. Flores’ heart missed a beat. He’s right next to me.
As Gareth sucked in air, the slick sounds came faster. What was he thinking about? Was
he imagining Flores’ ass wrapped around his cock? Flores squirmed, warmth pooling
between his legs.
He couldn’t tear himself away. Instead, he listened as Gareth’s breathing quickened and
hitched, a strangled groan rumbling through the door. The slick sounds continued—
Gareth was still fantasizing. An alpha like him, he would be ruthless in bed, wouldn’t
he? He would pin Flores down and fuck savagely into Flores’ ass. He would leave his
come deep inside and ruin Flores for anyone else.
Flores gulped. He listened to Gareth’s ragged breathing, fighting the urge to touch his
own straining cock. He wasn’t supposed to be here. What if Gareth opened the door,
only to find Flores eavesdropping on him?
Flores bit his lip. His cock ached.
Behind the door, Gareth panted. It sounded like he felt good.
Flores let himself touch his cock, biting his lip when pleasure whispered through his
skin. Maybe I can get off before he does. Then I can leave. He won’t see me then.
He stroked himself along to Gareth’s rhythm, his face burning. He’d never listened in
on anyone in real life jerking off. He’d never jerked off along with someone, either. And
now Gareth was breathing in his ear, sounding like he might explode any moment,
thrusting his big cock roughly into his fist. Like how he would inside Flores’ ass.
Flores rutted into his own hand, his hips snapping of their own accord. He needed his
release. In the midst of his pleasure, he accidentally squeezed the flimsy croissant box
too hard. It crinkled loudly.
Flores froze, his heart lodging in his throat.
Gareth stopped panting. He was listening out for the plastic crinkle, too. Gods, I hope he
doesn’t open the door. Then Gareth’s slick sounds started up again, back and forth, and
his breath rustled through the crack in the doorjamb.
“Damn it, Flower,” Gareth muttered. “Damn it.” And his breathing came faster, the
slick sounds increasing in pace, like he imagined himself giving Flores the fucking of
his life.
Flores’ breath rushed out of him. Gareth’s jerking off to me.
“Fucking take my cock,” Gareth hissed.
Flores’ hole squeezed. Oh.
Then Gareth gave a loud, pleasured groan, and Flores’ mind went blank. Gareth’s
coming. He’s thinking about being inside me.
Flores’ knees grew weak. He leaned heavily against the door, the pastry box clutched in
one hand, his cock in the other. He needed more time to come. He needed to hear
Gareth again. He pumped his cock desperately, listening to Gareth catching his breath
on the other side of the door.
Gareth’s breathing grew quieter. Had he turned away? Flores clenched his fist around
his aching cock.
Then the door handle twisted, and the door jerked open, taking Flores’ balance with it.
F LORES LURCHED FORWARD with the door; his face smashed into Gareth’s chest. His
breath fled his lungs, and something blunt jabbed him in the belly.
“What the fuck,” Gareth said. He reached out, steadying Flores with one wet hand.
“S-sorry,” Flores gasped, releasing his own cock. When he brought his hand back up, it
bumped into something—something thick and wet and heavy.
Gareth’s cock shoved shamelessly against Flores’ belly, its tip smearing wetness down
his shirt. It was flushed a dark red, and impossibly huge. Flores stared, his hole
growing damp. He’d seen videos. But looking at a real-life alpha cock?
“That can’t fit inside me,” he blurted. I touched it. I touched Gareth’s cock.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Gareth snapped, his face turning pink. He shoved at his
cock, but it was much bigger than his hand. Gareth had no pants to cover himself with;
he ended up pulling his shirt over his cock. The thick line of it left nothing to the
imagination.
Flores gulped, tearing his eyes away. Gareth had wanted to squeeze that inside him.
Flores had a few toys, but nothing the size of Gareth’s cock. What would it feel like to
take Gareth inside his body? Would it break him? “I, um.”
Flores struggled to find his footing. The moment he did, Gareth released him like he’d
been burned. Then Gareth turned to the sink and flipped the faucet on, soaping up his
hands. Flores’ skin couldn’t possibly warrant that kind of sanitizing.
No, Gareth hadn’t washed his come off before he’d grabbed Flores.
Flores stared at the smear of wet on his arm. He brought it closer, sniffing at its
muskiness. Then he licked tentatively at it—more bitter than salty, just like his own.
“Flower. Fuck, no.” Gareth stared at him through the mirror, turning redder.
“I’ve never tasted someone else’s come before,” Flores said, licking the rest of it off.
“Especially when they’ve just gotten off to me.”
Gareth closed his eyes, looking like he wanted to explode, or swear, or something. “You
were listening?”
Flores gulped. He glanced down at his own straining cock. “No?”

“You don’t lie very well, you know,” Gareth muttered. But he raked his eyes down
Flores’ body, then back up, lingering on Flores’ cock, his heaving chest, his... mouth?
Flores squirmed, licking his lips. Gareth’s eyes darkened. Did he want... something of
Flores’?
Blood coursed in Flores’ veins. Gareth had held his cock for a short while, he’d made
sure it couldn’t come. He’d seen it shoot all over anyway. But now that Flores’ cock was
on full display next to the thick line of Gareth’s erection, Flores felt embarrassed by it. It
wasn’t big like Gareth’s. He covered himself up, turning away. I need to fix this elsewhere.
As he hurried out of the bedroom, he thought he heard Gareth mutter, “Fuck, Derek.
What do I do?”
Flores tucked himself into the kitchen. Then he grasped his cock and tugged furiously,
remembering Gareth’s ragged breathing, the way he’d wanted to bury every inch of his
too-big cock into Flores’ hole. Open him up, take his virginity. Flores thought about
Gareth holding on to him, his cock moving inside, about to deposit a load. He was
shuddering, coming, shaking hard, his come spilling all over his palm.
He caught his breath, barely noticing that he’d almost crushed the croissant box in his
other hand.
Feet away, Gareth said, “I told you to eat that damn thing. Was that so difficult?”
Flores jumped; his heart almost leaped out of his throat. Gareth saw that?
Gareth stood in the kitchen doorway, now wearing a pair of pants—not that it did
much to hide his growing knot. What does a knot feel like?
More importantly, Gareth had seen Flores doing the most awfully intimate things.
Things that he was never supposed to witness. And he’d done it twice in a single day.
Why did I let him?
His face burning, Flores tucked his cock away and staggered to the sink, washing his
hands. He felt weak all over; coming twice had taken a lot out of him. He pulled his
shirt down, trying to hide his panties. I should change the subject. Or maybe just go home.
“Who’s Derek?”
Gareth’s expression tightened. “My omega.”
“You have one? Where is he?” Why would you jerk off to me if you have an omega? Flores
couldn’t imagine Gareth abandoning someone he cared about. Maybe if he was paid
enough...?
Gareth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s dead.”
Flores stopped breathing. He’d thought that Gareth was an asshole, that Gareth was his
parents’ lackey and nothing like himself. He’d thought all Gareth cared about was
money and seeing Flores locked up. But the broken look in Gareth’s eyes... Once upon a
time, Gareth had loved someone. And he’d lost that someone. He knew what it felt like
to have his heart ripped out.
For a moment, Flores remembered the pain of learning that Emil was gone. His throat
closed. Then he thought about Gareth feeling that same kind of anguish, Gareth
screwing his eyes shut and crying, and something in his chest just... gave.
Even if Gareth was a jerk, he shouldn’t have to feel that kind of pain.
So Flores padded forward, wrapping his arms tight around Gareth. “I’m sorry.”
Gareth stiffened against him. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Flores rubbed his back. “This isn’t about sex or anything. I just want you to
know that you aren’t alone. I’m sorry for bringing things up.”
Two days ago, Gareth had hugged him in the car. He had provided comfort when
Flores needed it. Gareth had offered Flores safety, and Flores knew when a debt had to
be repaid. So he held Gareth, hoping this would help him feel better.
But would it really, when Flores was young and clueless? When Gareth had all the
years and wisdom on him, and he knew so much more than Flores did?
Gareth said nothing, and Flores grew uncertain. My opinion can’t be worth that much,
Flores realized. He knows smarter people than me. Richer people. People who aren’t painting in
alleys at night. Flores leaned back, about to step away.
But Gareth wrapped his arms around Flores, pulling him closer. “Thanks.”
When Flores looked up, he found the tiniest smile on Gareth’s lips. Gareth was
ruggedly handsome, he was unexpectedly generous, and he’d had his own tragedies.
And maybe... Flores had judged Gareth too harshly. He felt bad about it.
So he tried to smile back. The muscles on his face twitched.
Gareth frowned. “You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to.” Flores tried harder. It probably came out looking like a grimace.
Gareth raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled again, and squeezed Flores’ shoulder. “You
look good when you smile.”
Flores stopped breathing. When was the last time anyone had told him that? Probably
Emil. “What?”
Gareth shrugged. “Did anyone tell you that you danced really well? At the audition.”
Flores stared. Why is he saying all this? “You weren’t there.”
“I was. Outside, by the window. I made sure no one saw me. You started like this.”
Gareth struck a pose. It wasn’t very good, but he was correct.
“You were spying?” Flores couldn’t believe it. Gareth the firefighter, Gareth the uptight
good citizen... He’d hidden next to a window and spied on Flores’ dance.
Something tickled Flores’ chest. Something that bubbled out of his mouth, like that
morning in the bakery. It sounded weird.
Gareth cracked another smile. “Yeah, that’s it. Maybe I should do more crazy shit. Make
you laugh.”
Had that been a laugh? And why Gareth would want more of that, Flores had no idea.
“Did no one catch you?”
“A security guard did.” Gareth rolled his shoulders sheepishly.
“What did you say?”
“That I was watching my son’s first audition.”
Flores grimaced. “I’m not your son.”
“No, you’re really not.” Gareth glanced at Flores. It was brief, but there was no
mistaking the way his gaze darkened, lingering on Flores’ mouth, his chest, his hips.
Flores gulped. Gareth had watched him come in the kitchen. Gareth had also jerked off
to him, and fucked him with a marker. Gareth was attracted to him on some base level.
What they were right now, Flores didn’t know. “Just don’t call me Flower.”
Gareth looked curious. “Any particular reason, aside from you being a brat?”
“Emil used to call me that.”
“Oh.” And then Gareth looked truly repentant. “Shit. I didn’t know. Sorry.”
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Flores mumbled. “I thought you’d say I was a stupid kid, or
something.”
Gareth took Flores’ hand, giving it a squeeze. “It’s not a stupid reason. I won’t call you
Flower. Cross my heart, Flores.”
Flores breathed out his relief. With how nice Gareth was being, he kept surprising
Flores. “You actually know my name.”
“Yeah. Knew it for years.” Gareth smiled lopsidedly. “I was your parents’ friend first,
boy. I’d even brought Sawyer to one of your birthday parties. There’s probably a photo
of you guys together somewhere.”
Gods, there was that. Flores bit his lip. No matter how much better he thought of
Gareth now, could he really trust this man? Maybe it was best to keep his distance. “I’m
leaving.”
“Wait. What about my car?”
“I’m going to clean it right now.”
Gareth frowned. “It’s permanent ink, isn’t it?”
Flores stared, incredulous. “You thought I drew on your car with permanent ink?”
“Yeah...” And now Gareth looked pissed and awkward.
“You didn’t try rubbing it off with your fingers?” Before he’d scribbled on Gareth’s car,
Flores had made sure to do ink tests on inconspicuous spots, to make sure the markings
could be easily wiped off.
“I was too fucking mad to think of it.” Gareth scowled. “The next time you pull that...”
“You were just in a hurry to fuck me,” Flores muttered. Except Gareth hadn’t ended up
fucking Flores with his cock. Not even with his fingers.
“I was not.” A flush crept up Gareth’s chest. Did he really get flustered this easily?
“You sure were in a hurry to make me come,” Flores said. His stomach tightened,
waiting to see how Gareth would react. “You put that marker inside me. And then you
spread my ass to look at it. Like you wanted to pretend it was your cock.”
The flush went up Gareth’s throat.
Flores felt that tickle in his chest again. “I heard what you said in the bathroom,” he
added. “Every single word.”
Gareth’s entire face turned red. He glared, but it only made the itch in Flores’ chest
grow. “You can’t be serious,” Gareth growled.
So Flores made sure to look at Gareth’s hips, where his knot had fully swelled. Gods, it
was big. “I heard you. You wanted me to take all of your cock. And you were pretty
damn insistent about it.”
A rumble erupted from Gareth’s chest. He narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “Shut
up, boy.”
He was getting riled up. A reckless part of Flores wanted to ride this wave, and see
where they ended up. “If I presented for you right now, would you come in a second?”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. But his blush had spread to the tips of his ears, and his chest
heaved.
He crowded Flores against the counter, planting his hands on either side of Flores to
trap him there. “Stop that.”
“Or, what? You’ll make me stop?” It was dangerous. But Flores had weathered the
worst of Gareth’s anger, and he’d been rewarded for it.
Gareth leaned in, bringing their faces close. His breath rushed over Flores’ lips, and the
heat of his body soaked into Flores’ skin. Flores’ heart thumped.
“You rascal,” Gareth growled.
“Are you going to punish me?” Flores whispered. “Make me scream?”
Gareth’s eyes flashed. Then he pressed his body flush against Flores, his chest solid, his
thick cock and knot pushing an indent into Flores’ belly. Flores gasped, tingles shooting
up and down his body. Gareth was big. He could easily overpower Flores, bend him
over. Push his cock into Flores’ ass and open it up. And every second would be bliss.
“Gareth,” Flores wheezed, his nails digging into Gareth’s strong forearms. He wanted
to beg. But he’d also done too much with Gareth as it was.
Gareth groaned, stepping away. Then he reached down to adjust his cock. “Damn it.
Get of here, Flores.”
“You should’ve fucked me, and then we could’ve called it quits,” Flores muttered.
His hand still wrapped around his cock, Gareth glanced up, meeting his eyes.
Flores gulped. “You shouldn’t go out with that,” he said. “It looks like you’re carrying a
weapon in your pants.”
Gareth snorted. “What, it looks like a gun?”

“Maybe a sword.”
Gareth followed Flores’ gaze. “Except a sword’s longer and narrower.”
“But you impale people with swords, right? Not guns.”
“Well, you unload things with guns.” Gareth coughed lightly.
“It’s not a very good gun, then,” Flores answered. “It doesn’t shoot very far.”
“What, you’re saying it impales better than it shoots?”
Flores swallowed hard. “Why don’t you let me test it out?”
Gareth stared. Before he could answer, Flores turned and pulled down his panties.
Gareth swore.
He was on Flores in a second, shoving Flores against the counter, one heavy hand on
Flores’ hip. “Don’t do that,” Gareth hissed, yanking Flores’ panties back up to cover his
ass.
Flores’ mouth twitched. “Are you allergic to the sight of butts?”
“No.”
So Flores pulled his panties back down.
“Fuck, Flores.” Gareth hitched the lace back up.
“You should be saying, ‘Fuck Flores’. No comma, Gareth.”
Gareth growled, cracking his palm across Flores’ ass. Pain hissed through Flores’ body;
he gasped.
“You like being punished, don’t you?” Gareth growled.
“I’d prefer it if you punished me with your cock,” Flores admitted. “Really hard and
fast. Like an animal.”
For a moment, Flores thought he might’ve won this time around. Gareth opened his
mouth, speechless. Then he swore under his breath. “Get out of here, Flores. Right
now.”
“Or else what?” Flores looked Gareth in the eye, feeling triumphant.
“Or else the interest on your tab will be fifty percent. Every two weeks.”
What the hell? “What kind of bullshit is that?”

Gareth raised an eyebrow. “You want the interest to be a hundred percent instead?”
That was absolute daylight robbery. Flores scowled, feeling betrayed. Gareth had
volunteered to pay for the washer’s repairs. And Flores had just... assumed that Gareth
wouldn’t use that to manipulate him. “You’re such a bastard.”
“Yeah, and so are you. Now get out of here before I call your parents in.”
That was the lowest fucking threat, ever. I shouldn’t even have hugged you, damn it. Flores
wanted to leave. But the croissant sat on the kitchen counter, neglected.
It wasn’t Gareth’s anymore. He’d given it to Flores. And Flores had gone far too long
without proper food to leave it behind.
His face prickling with shame, Flores grabbed the flimsy box. He flipped Gareth off.
Then he stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door.
I FUCKED UP . Gareth sank against the kitchen counter, scrubbing his face.
Flores was Tim and Rissa’s son. He was twenty-one. Barely an adult. Hell, Gareth had
watched the kid grow up, he’d known exactly how young Flores was. Gareth had
sworn to Tim that he wouldn’t touch Flores.
And now he’d gone and put things—one thing—into Flores’ ass like some kind of
twisted deviant. Flores had arched and shaken, he’d creamed himself lying across
Gareth’s lap, his flushed cock jerking with every pulse of come.
Gareth had been his very first. That fact shouldn’t slide down his spine and sit in his
gut, like a treasure he could hoard. It shouldn’t make him want to puff up his chest. He
shouldn’t want to run today through his mind again—Flores’ hole open around the
marker, Flores pulling his panties down. Asking Gareth to fuck him.
You haven’t been laid in too long. That’s what it is.
Disgusted with himself, Gareth stalked out of the kitchen, pausing when he glimpsed
the framed photo in the hallway. Derek.
He crossed the living room, pausing in front of that photo.
They’d taken that picture when Sawyer was one. It had been some sort of deal Derek
had found in the newspaper, and he’d grinned and dragged Gareth down to the photo
studio with their son. Memories are good, Derek had said brightly. Someday, you’ll be glad
we took this picture.
Sawyer had fussed through the photo shoot. Derek had kissed Gareth and leaned into
him, their son in his arms. Derek had been the most important person in Gareth’s life,
like the sunlight and oxygen he needed to survive. Where Gareth had been grumpy,
Derek had been light and joy. Where Gareth had been down-to-earth, Derek had
dreamed of the stars.
Looking at the picture, Gareth grew only too aware of the emptiness in his heart, that he
didn’t know how to repair.
He reached up, touching the wedding band on a chain under his shirt.
Then he felt guilty about Flores. Derek was his omega. But Derek was no longer
around—there was no way Gareth could bring him back. And Flores... had provided a
distraction. Still continued to provide one.
“Are you gonna be mad at me if it continues?” Gareth asked the picture.
He touched his thumb to the glass covering Derek’s face. Derek kept smiling, all blue
eyes and blond hair, but he didn’t answer.
Gareth swallowed, pressing his forehead against the wall. He had Derek’s things here
and there in the apartment—the bowls in the cabinet, the lamp on his nightstand. But
Derek’s presence wasn’t overwhelming here, like it was in Gareth’s other home. In a
way, moving here had been a breath of fresh air.
The majority of Gareth’s things were in an unoccupied house on the other side of
Meadowfall. At some point, when his deal with Tim Williams ended, Gareth would
return there.
Right now, Gareth was reluctant to stay in this apartment. He shoved his keys into his
pocket, striding out the front door.
When he stepped out of the building, the first thing he saw was Flores crouched by the
wheel of his car, scrubbing off the drawings on the driver’s side door. The windshield
and windows had been wiped clean, but most of the drawings still remained.
Surprised that Flores had taken action this quickly, Gareth stepped over, hands in his
pockets.
Flores looked up with a scowl. “Why’re you here?”
“Thought I’d go on a drive,” Gareth said. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I told you I’d clean it off.”
Suds covered Flores’ forearms. A bucket of soapy water sat next to him, and bubbles
had spilled down his legs. He wore the same loose T-shirt, but he’d pulled on a pair of
barely-there shorts.
Gareth leaned against the car hood. His heart was still sore. But watching Flores, seeing
the way Flores gritted his teeth and scrubbed at the drawings, Gareth’s heart lightened
a little.
It almost felt like they were the same, him and Flores. Two hurting souls trying to make
their way through each day. So Gareth asked, “Need some help?”
Flores blinked, surprised. Suspicion darkened his eyes. “Does that cost extra? Are you
going to add to my tab for every minute of help?”
Gareth stared. Then he cracked a smile. “No. I said what I did because I don’t
appreciate being hit on.”
Flores frowned. “Sure you don’t appreciate it.” He glanced at Gareth’s hips, where the
knot was finally starting to recede.
Well, maybe ‘appreciate’ wasn’t the right word. Gareth’s body reacted viscerally to
everything about Flores. The lace panties, the whiteboard marker, the way Flores had
stumbled into the bathroom, his cock hard like he’d been getting off on Gareth getting
off. That was too much stimulus for a week, let alone a day. Man, Gareth really was
growing old.
“We shouldn’t be fucking,” he said. “I’m twice your age, Flores.”
Flores scowled. “You still want to.”
“And I owe it to your parents to keep this strictly platonic.”
Flores tensed again—he seemed to do that whenever Gareth mentioned his parents. Not
that Gareth blamed him, but...
“You have a problem with your parents?” Gareth asked. “Or me?”
“Both,” Flores muttered, scrubbing harder at the drawings. “You’re going to bring me
back to their place, and let them lock me up again.”
Gareth breathed out. “No. Remember I paid Kent fifty bucks to keep his mouth shut?”
Flores narrowed his eyes. “I told you, you didn’t have to.”
Maybe it was the way Flores’ parents had neglected him so much. Maybe it was Flores’
peony scent. Maybe it was because he gave Gareth a purpose outside his working life.
“You’re the same age as my son.”
“I’m not your—”
Gareth crouched in front of him, taking the washcloth from his hands. “Do you want
help, or not?”
Flores stared wide-eyed at him. “What?”
“It’s gonna get hot out,” Gareth said, nodding at the sky. “Pale skin like yours, you’re
gonna get burnt into a crisp.”
Flores looked at the sky, then at the terrycloth. “But I only have one,” he mumbled.
Gareth unlocked the SUV. He went around to the back, grabbed a washcloth, and
joined Flores at the water bucket. As he crouched, Flores’ eyes locked onto his hips,
following its trajectory down.
“Glad to see you’ve got your priorities straight,” Gareth said dryly.
Flores looked away, glowering.
“There’s other alphas out there, you know,” Gareth made himself add.
“But you wanted my heat.”
“It’s yours. Do what you want with it.”
“I want to sell it.”
That made Gareth wince. “To any random alpha? That’s not exactly safe.”
“You won’t buy it,” Flores muttered.
Flores was set on Gareth taking his heat, huh? Gareth’s throat went dry. He shoved his
terrycloth into the soapy water, then wrung it out. He started wiping down the car
hood. “I’ve told you the reasons why I’m not interested.”
But the one reason he never told Flores: Gareth was afraid he’d get addicted to Flores’
ass. Sex was like a flimsy bandage. Or like his designer shoes. They patched up the
emptiness a little, but they solved nothing. And once he got started on Flores’ ass... he
would grow dependent again. Gareth had lost too much to even risk that.
Except... maybe he was kind of fond of Flores. Just a bit. Flores was pretty, and he
danced well. And Gareth wanted to see what Flores would look like when he finally
remembered how to smile. That makes him damn fucking dangerous, in case you didn’t
know.
Flores fiddled with his terrycloth. “I want someone who knows what he’s doing. For
my first time.”
Gods. They weren’t talking about this anymore. “You’ll find someone,” Gareth
muttered.
“Am I still a virgin?”
The question caught him by surprise. “What?”

Flores glanced around the parking lot, then met Gareth’s eyes. His cheeks turned pink.
“See, you fucked me with a marker. But it wasn’t actually a part of you that was inside
me. So... what does that make me?”
Gareth remembered the slight resistance of Flores’ hole, the way it gave under pressure,
taking the end of the marker. The marker had gone in smoothly, far too easily, and
Gareth had imagined his own cock opening Flores up. “Virginity has many
definitions,” he said, scrubbing forcefully at the drawings. So his cock wouldn’t get
ideas again. “You decide what you want.”
“But I want to know what you think.” Flores’ pupils dilated. “Whether—” he gulped
“—Whether you still think of me as a virgin.”
“Fuck.” Gareth swallowed hard, the flood of mental images knocking the breath from
his lungs. He almost didn’t want to answer Flores’ question, because his response
would be too telling. But Flores was waiting on him, hopefully, eagerly, and Gareth
didn’t have the heart to turn him down.
“You’re still a virgin if you haven’t taken—” my cock “—a cock up your ass,” Gareth
muttered. “But that’s my opinion. Someone else can have another opinion.”
Flores moaned, reaching between his legs.
They needed to stop this insanity. So Gareth tossed his washcloth at Flores’ head. It
landed square in his face. Flores spluttered, spitting the soap out of his mouth.
“That thing has whiteboard marker ink on it,” Flores squawked, wiping his tongue on
his sleeve. “That’s gross!”
He spat multiple times, the look on his face so disgusted—unexpectedly cute—that

Gareth laughed.
“You’re laughing at me!” Flores made a face, scowling. Then he got to his feet and
charged at Gareth, and Gareth was too stunned to move.
Flores grasped Gareth’s collar with surprisingly strong fingers. Then he shoved his
washcloth into Gareth’s mouth, his bony fingers slipping past Gareth’s lips. What the
fuck? All Gareth tasted was soap. He spluttered, wanting to gag. Okay, yeah, that was
disgusting.
He grasped Flores’ offending hand, pulling the washcloth out of his mouth. “Enough.”
Flores scowled, his chest heaving. “You started it.”
“Not quite.” Gareth spat. At least they were even now, he supposed.
“I need to wash my mouth out,” Flores said.
Yeah, he really did, but not for the reasons he thought.
“Hang on,” Gareth said. “I have some water.” He grabbed a couple bottles of water
from the trunk, and handed one to Flores. Flores headed over to a patch of grass,
rinsing out his mouth. Gareth followed him.
“That was awful of you,” Flores said.
“Sorry.” Gareth shrugged. “As long as you don’t swallow, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Before Flores could make an innuendo out of it, Gareth said, “Any more talk about sex,
and I’m gonna soap your mouth real good.”
Flores gave him the finger. But he kept silent, gargling, so Gareth didn’t mind. He kind
of wanted to hug Flores, actually. Just hold him close and breathe him in.
“It’s like you have everything in your car,” Flores said when he finally capped the
bottle. “That’s so weird.”
Gareth glanced at him. “Wouldn’t you?”
Flores shrugged. “Mom and Dad don’t. They just buy what they need, and then throw
out the rest. It’s kind of wasteful.”
“How come you don’t think like them?” Gareth folded his arms, studying Flores. “Rich
kid like you, you’d think you’d behave like they do.”
Flores shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Their money’s all dirty. I—” he glanced
around the parking lot, and Gareth got the feeling that Flores wasn’t supposed to tell
him this “—I saw them at the office once. There was an old lady crying because she
couldn’t pay her rent. They wouldn’t let her file her claim because of some stupid
reason. And they talked circles around her until she had no choice but to pay them
more money. I don’t know how it works. But that was the moment I just... realized that
they were cheating their customers out of all their money. And people are just...
becoming homeless. Because of my parents.”
Gareth cringed. Tim Williams was running for mayor, but on the side, he also owned an
insurance company. It was where most of his income came from. Gareth would’ve sent
along an anonymous note to the police, except Tim was Gareth’s high school friend.
He’d saved Gareth’s life once. For that, Gareth owed him.
“You’ve never tried to report them to the police?” Gareth asked.

Flores’ shoulders sagged. “I’ve thought about it. But if I do, they’ll make sure I can’t
dance for the rest of my life.”
G ARETH ’ S BLOOD RAN COLD . “What do you mean?”
Flores rubbed his face. Gareth hadn’t noticed it before, but Flores’ ring and middle
fingers—they were crooked. Like they’d been broken and they’d healed wrong.
“I told you, their money’s all dirty. Dad threatened to have my legs shattered if I make a
fuss. And no one would even know he hired people out to do it.”
“Like your fingers?” Gareth blurted. Just a wild guess. He hoped like hell he was
wrong.
Flores looked away, tucking his hands into his pockets. Tim had ordered those fingers
to be broken, hadn’t he?
And suddenly Flores being locked up for twenty years wasn’t so crazy anymore. This
was. Anger hissed in Gareth’s chest, backed by horror. How do you even treat your child
like that? “What did you do to make him break your fingers?”
“I told them that their insurance company is a scam.” Then he turned pale, glancing
furtively at Gareth. “You aren’t... gonna tell them that I told you, right?”
He backed away from Gareth, hiding his hands, looking so terrified that Gareth’s heart
wrenched.
“Fuck, no. Flores.” Gareth reached over, catching Flores’ hand. “No. I’m not gonna tell,
okay? Your secrets are safe with me.”
Flores squirmed. “They hired you with their dirty money. I can’t trust you.”
Knowing what Flores thought about his parents’ income, it made sense that he’d been
so standoffish with Gareth over the past few months. Gareth shook his head. “No. I’m
not accepting payment from them. Cross my heart.”
Flores scrutinized him. “Then why would you make a deal with them?”
“Because I owe your dad.” Gareth sighed. “Because I just wanted to make sure you stay
out of trouble.”
Flores bit his lip, eyeing Gareth.
“You’re welcome to look at my correspondence with them,” Gareth said. “They aren’t
paying me at all.”
“What’s in this for you?”
Gareth shrugged. “Something to do on my days off, I guess.”
Flores glowered. “I’m not some pet project.”
“Pfft. Believe me, I’m not trying to change you. Just trying to stop you from getting into
trouble.” It really didn’t hurt that Flores was easy on the eyes. That, when it came down
to it, he was a distraction, too. “If I had an omega, I wouldn’t be here, you know.”
Then Gareth realized he’d said the wrong thing, because Flores winced.
Damn it. “Look, I didn’t mean it that way. I just—”
He yanked Flores against himself, folding him into a hug. It seemed like whenever
Gareth tried to talk to Flores, all they ended up doing was argue. Gareth wasn’t fond of
arguing. It was too much wasted time, when they could be solving problems instead.
Flores stiffened against him. “What’re you doing?”
“Apologizing.” Because threats weren’t something Flores thrived under.
Gareth stroked his fingers through Flores’ hair. Just held him. Slowly, Flores sagged, the
tension in his shoulders melting away. It felt good, knowing they could exist like this
without butting heads.
He took Flores’ hand, tracing his thumb over the crooked fingers. Flores tried to pull his
hand away. “Were both of these because of the scam comment?”
Flores shook his head. Then he twitched his ring finger. “This was when Dad told me I
was annoying and I was too loud around the house. I could never make him happy. So I
went and banged on the pots and pans until he did this.”
Tim was such a fucking asshole. But Gareth had seen broken bones before; Flores’
fingers made all his alarm bells ring. “They shouldn’t have healed crooked.”
Flores narrowed his eyes. “It was days after they were broken that I got to see a doctor.
It hurt a lot when they set my fingers.”
Fury clawed inside Gareth’s ribs. When he saw Tim again, he had a few choice words to
say. Except... would Tim still allow Gareth to watch Flores? What were the costs of
speaking out against someone like Tim?
When he continued rubbing those fingers, Flores pulled his hand away.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Gareth asked.

Flores shrugged. “They’re ugly.”
Gareth growled. “They’re not ugly. What’s ugly is the person who did this to you.”
Flores sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes growing wide. It seemed like he’d never heard
those words before. That wasn’t right.
Gareth caught Flores’ chin, tipping his face up so their eyes met. In that moment, Flores
looked unguarded, surprised. He was pretty. And Gareth couldn’t help looking at
Flores’ mouth again. He wanted to know if Flores tasted as pretty as he looked.
Flores flicked his tongue across his lip, his cheeks turning pink. “You’re going to kiss
me, aren’t you?” he whispered. He looked so thirsty for one.
There were smudges of paint on Flores’ neck. He was still a damn vandal. What am I
doing?
A car rumbled into the parking lot, all loud and low. Gareth stiffened. it was a car with
modified guts, one that Gareth knew. Tim Williams.
And his own car was still half-covered in swear words. “Shit. Get out of here.”
Flores had recognized the sound, too. He’d turned to look for it, his entire body tensing.
Gareth scanned his SUV. The headlights still had scribbles on them, and so did the
whole passenger side. The spread-ass drawing stared incriminatingly from the trunk.
Did they have time to wipe down the rest of the damage?
Gareth made a leap for the soap bucket, grabbing the washcloth. He scrubbed it over
the faces on the headlights—just enough that they no longer resembled drawings. Then
he lunged into the space next to his car, wiping away most of Flores’ scribbles. Perks of
scrubbing down fire trucks for twenty whole years.
By the time Tim Williams pulled to a stop in front of the SUV, Gareth had gotten most
of the damage erased. Save for the trunk—Flores was there, his face pale, squirming
against the car like he was... using his shirt to wipe the drawing off?
“Stay there,” Gareth said.
Tim Williams stepped out of his car, beady-eyed and greasy-haired, surveying Gareth
smugly. As though he was better than Gareth, just because he had more money. Word
was that Tim had been trying to buy his way into Meadowfall’s town council—like
people needed to do that if they were actually respectable. “Hey, Brown.”
“Hey,” Gareth said, waving with his washcloth. “Nice morning, isn’t it?”
Tim shrugged, barely glancing at the sky. Then he caught sight of Flores, and his eyes
narrowed. “What’s he doing here?”
“Helping me wash my car. He’s doing a great job so far.” Gareth fought down the urge
to stalk up to Tim, and give him a solid right hook.
Tim surveyed the SUV, focusing on the black spots on the headlights that Gareth had
left in his rush. “Looks like he’s fucking up, as usual.”
Flores glared at the trunk, so tense that his shoulders shook.
His heart pounding, Gareth clenched his fists. This wasn’t new—Tim had been just as
abrasive three months ago, when he’d shoved Flores forward and told Gareth to move
him into this apartment complex.
At that point, Gareth had assumed that Flores needed that sort of treatment, because of
how many times he’d been reprimanded by the police. Right now, he wanted to kick his
old self for believing Tim at all.
“That was from me,” Gareth said, giving the headlights a second, casual wipe. So the
black spots didn’t look like marker streaks. “Went out on a short road trip. Hit some
bugs on the way.”
Flores’ gaze darted to him, surprised.
“What brings you here today?” Gareth asked. It felt foul, being civil to someone you’d
lost a ton of respect for.
Tim scowled at his son. “Licorice Street. That you again, boy?”
Flores’ chest heaved. He opened his mouth, glaring at his father like he wanted to say
something, but it would cost him to.
“Nah, it isn’t him,” Gareth lied. “I made sure.”
Flores’ anger rushed out of him like a deflating balloon. He glanced at Gareth again,
confused. Uncertain.
Gareth shook his head slightly, hoping Flores would get the message and let him
handle this. “Of course, we can’t expect to know when he’ll act up again. If you happen
to see more around, tell me. I’ll make sure to keep him under control.”
Tim scoffed. “It’s not enough. I’ve decided that you need help. I’ve gone ahead and
hired a PI—you’ll see him around.”
Shit. Gareth maintained a neutral expression. “Is that all you’ve come here to tell me?
You could’ve just sent a text.”
Tim sneered at Flores. “I wanted to see for myself that this place isn’t in shambles. Kent
reported no mistakes this past month.”
At least Kent had kept his end of the deal. Gareth put himself between Tim and Flores;
Tim didn’t deserve to look at his son at all. “I’ll handle it from here. You can rest
assured that you won’t have to deal with Flores anymore.”
But not for the reasons Tim thought.
Tim harrumphed. Then he stalked back into his car and drove off, and Gareth spat out
the bad taste in his mouth. “Fuck. He’s a nutcase. I can’t believe I didn’t realize this
until now.”
“What was that for?” Flores stepped closer, looking conflicted. “You... told him those
things.”
Gareth shrugged. “You don’t deserve the crap he says to you.”
Flores stared. And then he looked at his feet, a hint of pink sweeping up his cheeks.
“That was you, wasn’t it? On Licorice Street.”
“It’s none of your business.”
Yeah, it was him. Gareth had stuck his neck out for Flores, and... He didn’t even mind.
“Our deal’s off the table, by the way. I told you: no painting, and I’ll take your heat in
six months. But you went and did that thing on Licorice Street right after.”
Flores made a soft sound of protest, his face falling. “But what about my heat in a few
days?”
“Deal with it.” Gareth folded his arms. “I’ve saved your ass twice. I can’t do anything
about the PI, and I’m sure as hell not doing anything about your heat.”
As much as he wanted to bend Flores over, and be the very first to claim his ass.
Flores scowled. “I could sell it to anyone else. There’s people out there who want it.”
“So sell it.” No, don’t.
Flores huffed, turning away. “You’re a liar, too, sir.”
That word again. Flores might’ve meant in a sarcastic way, but every time he said it...
Gareth wanted to hear it again. “I’m not lying.”
“Sure.” Flores took the washcloth from Gareth. He wiped down the rest of the marker
ink on Gareth’s car, and dropped the towel into his soap bucket. His shirt was dark
with ink smudges, and there was a black smear on his cheek that Gareth itched to wipe
away.
Flores took the soap bucket, giving Gareth a last, lingering look. Then he disappeared
into the apartment building, and Gareth could breathe again.
He’d completely forgotten about Flores’ heat next week, caught up as he was in today’s
events. Flores’ scent was probably all over his apartment. Hell, he was living right next
door, and Gareth had, on occasion, heard Flores’ moans through the open window,
when Flores pleasured himself at night.
It would just be a week of aching temptation. Nothing more. If Gareth just... avoided
him, he wouldn’t need to smell Flores in heat. Things would proceed as normal, and
Gareth would resume his watch on Flores as soon as the temptation passed.
Thing was, Gareth hadn’t thought he’d lie to himself, too.

F LORES HAD NEVER SPENT his heat out in the open before. The night air caressed his
skin, slipping under his loose dark clothing to brush his calves and kiss his belly. It
stroked his face, his lips, and beneath his clothes, his nipples tightened.
His dreams the past few nights had all been about Gareth—Gareth covering him with
his body, Gareth spreading Flores’ legs open, tasting his cock. He would push his
fingers into Flores’ hole, stretching him, and then he’d fit that thick, blunt cock all the
way up Flores’ ass.
Stop thinking about that. It’s not going to happen. Flores gritted his teeth, pushing down on
the spray can button, forcing himself to draw steady arcs across the painted sky—
fireworks.
The mural had been in progress for close to two weeks. It was one of Flores’ favorites: a
rural landscape of rice terraces carved into undulating hills, fireworks blooming across
the darkening sky as the sun edged past the horizon. In the distance, golden lights
dotted a small village while the townsfolk released floating paper lanterns into the air—
a celebration of some sort.
The painting was almost complete. All Flores needed was another half-hour to fill in the
highlights on the lanterns, the tiny houses, the reflections of fireworks in the rice fields.
Then he could finally call this piece done, and go home and sleep.
Over the past few days, he’d slept a total of maybe ten hours. He had a self-imposed
deadline: tomorrow. That was when the theater would start contacting its cast for the
upcoming production. Flores didn’t know if he would be selected. But if he was, the last
thing he wanted was to be caught with one of his paintings, implicating the theater in
the process.
So here he was, rushing his work despite his heat. It was way past midnight. Some of
the drunks from the nearby bar were starting to wander home. Flores tucked his paint
can into his modified jacket, pulling out some white paint for the final touch-ups.
Further in the alley, something clanked. An empty can? Someone was here.
His heart stopped. He tucked his paint back, stepping into the shadows of a nearby
dumpster to avoid whoever it was. Yards away, a few drunks wandered by on the
street, singing off-key to some oldies song. Some cars rumbled past. Flores curled into a
crouch, pulling his hood over his head. He barely breathed.
No one came through the alley. He waited thirty seconds, then two minutes. Then, just
as he almost stepped away from the dumpster, someone stepped around the corner,
heading his way. Flores’ heart almost burst.
He held his breath, flattening himself against the wall. Thanked all the gods that he’d
sprayed two coats of scent suppressant all over himself, including every item of
clothing he wore. Then he held as still as he could, listening as the footsteps thudded
ever closer, heavy and ominous. It sounded like an alpha. Like someone who was
searching for something.
Flores wished desperately that he had Gareth with him. He didn’t know Gareth all that
well. He’d been getting into Gareth’s bad books. But over the past week, Gareth had...
protected Flores, in his own way. And Flores had been greedy and forced himself on
Gareth, until Gareth had pushed him away.
Now that he was alone in an alley by himself, he wished... that he’d apologized. That
maybe he’d told Gareth where he was going. So if he got himself beaten up, at least
Gareth might come by in the morning to peel him off the alley floor. Maybe.
Flores breathed in deep, hoping that the stranger would smell like applewood instead.
His body stirred. He remembered the sheer warmth of Gareth’s fingers when he’d held
Flores’ hand. He remembered Gareth spying on his audition, being unintentionally
funny. He remembered Gareth scrubbing his car desperately when Tim Williams
showed up, and then actually lying to Tim.
He remembered Gareth looking intently at his mouth, and his heart skipped.
Flores shook his thoughts away. There’s no way Gareth will show up here.
The person in the alley paused on the other side of the mural. Flores caught the faintest
trace of a silver maple scent; his heart sank. It wasn’t Gareth.
A flashlight clicked on. Why was there even a flashlight? Then the light roved over
Flores’ mural, and dread filled his chest. It’s that PI, isn’t it? He’ll find me if he shines that
thing here.
Flores trembled, his heart pounding. Can I make a run for it?
There was movement. Then a camera flashed, and a green-purple afterimage danced in
Flores’ eyes. Did he see me? Flores couldn’t breathe. He could only hear the thundering
of his heart. I need to get out of here.
“Flores?” Gareth’s voice rang out through the alley. He sounded faraway, but Flores’
heart leaped. Gareth’s here.
“Flores?” Gareth called again.
Flores sneaked a glance in his direction—he was on the other end of the alley, further
away from the street. And the PI was right between them. Flores wanted to whimper.
What do I do? There was no way he could step toward Gareth, and not be caught.
Gareth strode up through the alley, toward the PI. The PI turned, pointing the flashlight
in Gareth’s face. Gareth squinted.
But there was Flores’ chance. Flores stepped away from the wall, his heart pounding.
He chanced a look at Gareth. Gareth raised his hand. Then he flicked his fingers once—
a clear signal that said, Go.
His heart twisting with both yearning and reluctance, Flores ran.
F LORES ’ apartment had been compromised.
At first, Gareth had thought the crash was just Flores trying to attract his attention. For
the past couple days, Flores would bang on the wall, or drop something, or tell Gareth
he was there. Then he’d pleasure himself by his window, right next to Gareth’s living
room, and Gareth had been so damn torn. He didn’t want to hear it. Except his cock had
almost ripped through his pants each time Flores moaned. Gareth had bitten his tongue,
and gotten off along with Flores in secret. For the sake of his pants.
So although the crash had happened early, he’d been expecting the same tonight.
Flores’ voice, then his sinful groans. Except there’d been nothing after the crash. Gareth
had banged on the wall to shut Flores up, and then banged again when he’d heard only
silence. There’d been no response. No yelling, no talking, and definitely no moaning.
Something like concern niggling in his chest, Gareth had decided to check on Flores,
just to make sure he was okay.
There’d been a new scent in the shared corridor—silver maple. Barely there, common
enough that Gareth wouldn’t typically suspect a thing, except it was strongest outside
Flores’ place.
Maybe it was a visitor. Maybe it was someone Flores had finally sold his heat to. Except
if Flores was having the time of his life, he would moan. And his apartment had been
too silent, almost unnervingly so.
That had been when Gareth had suspected that the PI had shown up. He’d waited an
hour at his own door for the visitor to leave. Then Gareth had slipped into Flores’
apartment with his own duplicate key—no Flores, but definitely a trace of maple.
And a fierce, possessive beast had growled in his chest.
No one was supposed to enter Flores’ place without Flores’ permission. No one was
supposed to take that safety away from him.
Gareth had prowled out of the building and found a car leaving the parking lot. There
weren’t many places Flores could be at this time of the night, but if the PI had the same
information Gareth did, then he was headed straight for Licorice Street.
Shouldn’t have left him alone.

Gareth had cursed all the way downtown, following the PI to Flores’ current haunt.
Then he’d parked half a block down and ducked into the back alleys, hoping to find
Flores before the PI did.
He’d tripped over a can on the way there. The PI had turned, and Gareth had frozen,
pressing himself against a wall. They’d made their way to Licorice Street without
further incident.
Then something had flashed bright enough to bounce off the alley walls, and Gareth’s
heart had stopped. He’s hurt Flores.
“Flores,” he called. No answer. “Flores!”
His heart thudding now, he jogged all the way to the back alley of Licorice Street. There
was a broad-shouldered figure holding a flashlight. Gareth strode up, trying to glimpse
Flores. The PI shone the flashlight in his face. The light blinded him. Gareth growled,
almost snatching the damn thing out of his hand.
Further behind the PI, something peeled away from the alley wall—a stark, thin
silhouette against the streetlamp’s yellow glow. Flores. Gareth’s heart leaped. He forced
himself not to look at Flores, or the PI would look, too. He raised his hand and flicked
his fingers.
Flores ran. Good boy.
Before the PI could follow the sound of Flores’ footsteps, Gareth crossed the space
between them, snatching the flashlight out of the PI’s hand. “The fuck are you doing
with this?”
“Give that back!” the PI snapped.
Gareth shone the flashlight in his face. The PI squinted and fumbled. He was younger—
early thirties, about 5’8, maybe one-ninety pounds. The PI made a grab for his
flashlight; Gareth flicked the light at the alley wall instead. And then he blinked.
Luminous square lanterns floated gently up the wall, each one detailed with little red
swirls. Far below them, tiny people released those lanterns, their faces aglow. They
were surrounded by a sea of houses nestled amongst some hills, the sun setting
majestically behind them.
This... was not graffiti.
The PI snatched the flashlight back. “Get out of my way.”
Before he could take off, Gareth asked, “You know who did this?”
The PI scoffed. “You don’t?”
In his heart, Gareth already knew. But... it wasn’t the awful scribbling he’d expected. He
grabbed the flashlight back from the PI. Shone it down the rest of the alley—no awful
spray paint scribbles on any of the brick. There was just a sprawling mural, with rice
fields and fireworks on the other side. This was Licorice Street. This was what Flores
had been working on.
“For fuck’s sake,” the PI snapped. He snatched the flashlight out of Gareth’s hand. Then
he took off, leaving Gareth staring at the shadowy wall.
For three months, Gareth had been tailing Flores, trying to catch him in the act of
tagging walls. Flores had always given him the slip. Then he would show up with paint
on his clothes the next day, and without fail, Gareth would be pissed out of his mind.
He’d thought the worst of Flores. He’d thought Flores was a damn child, ruining public
spaces. He’d treated Flores like a criminal, and this whole time, Flores had just... been
pouring his heart out into this.
And now that PI was going to hunt Flores down, and try to get him into jail. Over a
fucking painting.
Shit, I’m sorry.
Gareth growled, pissed with himself, and Flores, and that PI. He tore out of the alley,
his shoes pounding against the ground. Brought himself to a stop at the brightly-lit
sidewalk, looking up and down the street.
The PI had taken off down the road, further away from where Gareth had parked his
car. Gareth frowned. He hadn’t seen where Flores had run off to. Couldn’t smell him,
either.
He checked his phone. No messages from Flores. Who knew if he’d even saved Gareth’s
number? Where’d you run off to?
He studied the alley entrances and the establishments around. Flores would want to get
as far away as he could. So he would cross the road. There were three bars scattered
across three blocks.
But Gareth had always been shit at hunting Flores down. So he made the exact opposite
choice his instincts said to: the only bar on this side of the road.
That was where the PI was headed. Fuck.

Gareth sprinted after him. Then, as he neared the bar, he ducked down a side alley. He
began to comb the shadows, passing collapsed drunks and random couples hooking up
behind the dumpsters. No Flores.
One by one, Gareth glanced down each alley, searching for a small, hooded figure.
Someone alone and not passed out on the ground. With each street he scanned, his
hopes dwindled. C’mon. Give me some sign that you’re here.
He reached the last alley—the one the bar opened onto, and the most crowded. Beer,
musk, and other scents mixed, too intense to even tell who had stepped into this place.
But it was the perfect hiding spot: couples lined the shadowy walls, tangled with each
other.
And the PI was already halfway through the alley. Gareth swore, wondering if he
should chance it and walk down the entire thing.
“Gareth!” Someone small barreled into his side, thin arms wrapping around him.
Relief flooded his chest. Gareth slung his arm around Flores’ narrow shoulders, turning
them so his back faced the PI. This bought them some time. They could either slip out of
the alley now and look guilty... Or they could blend in with the crowd.
He didn’t know how fast Flores could run, or how long he could run for. And the PI
was just yards away; Gareth felt the guy’s stare lock onto his back.
Fuck, they couldn’t run.
He crowded Flores against the nearest wall, cupping Flores’ face in his hands. Flores
looked up at him with scared, relieved eyes, his pupils blown in the shadows.
“Trust me on this,” Gareth whispered. “No time.”
Then he leaned in, brushing their lips together.
Flores’ mouth was soft. Too damn sweet. Gareth hadn’t even planned on kissing Flores,
but the way he gasped, his lips parting... “Gareth—”
He was pliant in Gareth’s arms, his mouth damp and silky. Gareth growled, letting
their lips slide together in another sweet burst of friction. Soft sounds slipped from
Flores’ throat. Flores sealed their mouths together clumsily, trying to kiss Gareth in
return. Gods, he’d never been kissed.
What am I doing? Gareth’s stomach flipped. He hadn’t meant to steal Flores’ first kiss. Or
his second. He’d promised Tim Williams that he wouldn’t touch this boy. But the PI
was somewhere behind them, and Gareth had to hide Flores away. He needed this to
look legit.
And there was something intoxicating about Flores’ mouth, the way he pressed
fumbling kisses to Gareth’s lips, wanting to return the favor. Gareth brought Flores’
arms up around his neck. Then he kissed Flores for real—nipping softly at his lips,
caressing Flores with his mouth, until Flores whimpered and sank against him, panting
like Gareth had woken every nerve in his body. Flores’ nails dug into his scalp;
electricity shot down Gareth’s spine.
I’m kissing Flores Williams. And he couldn’t stop.
Musk wafted faintly from Flores’ skin. No peony scent. Where was it? Gareth shouldn’t
care. He should be figuring if this hid their faces enough.
Someone stepped behind him, a presence that made Gareth’s muscles tense. He braced
his arms against the wall, shielding Flores with his own body.
Flores groaned and wrapped his leg around Gareth’s thigh, his lips parting. He was
opening himself to Gareth, and a base instinct in Gareth wanted to possess him. Spread
Flores. Touch his cock. His hole. Gareth slanted his mouth against Flores’ and licked his
lower lip. Then he swept his tongue into Flores’ hot, damp mouth, and Flores’ musk
billowed around them; his spine bowed.
Gareth’s blood pounded between his legs. Flores wanted him. Fuck. Flores tangled his
fingers in Gareth’s hair and tugged him closer, and Gareth nudged Flores’ mouth wide,
tasting him with long, hungry strokes of his tongue. Flores tasted like soda and instant
ramen, and he rubbed every inch of his slender body against Gareth’s front. As though
he was begging Gareth to claim him.
Gareth was hard in seconds. He needed to conceal Flores. Not fuck him. Not right now.
I shouldn’t.
“Please,” Flores said into his mouth. Then he tiptoed, pushing his hard, covered cock
against Gareth’s leg. Gareth’s control slipped. He slid his hand down Flores’ back,
hefting Flores’ ass up so their hips met. Flores’ cock ground against his own, desperate,
and Gareth almost speared through his pants.
“You see what you do to me,” Gareth snarled, dragging his teeth across Flores’ lower
lip. Then he pushed his cock hard against Flores so there was no question at all.
Flores cried out, whimpering. Gods, Gareth wanted to own every inch of him, right
there. He wanted to make Flores arch and moan, he wanted to make Flores scream. And
he wanted to see Flores’ face when he took every inch of Gareth’s cock into his sweet,
virgin ass. Fuck.
“Gareth,” Flores breathed, tightening his fingers in Gareth’s hair. Then he yanked, and
need shot down Gareth’s spine. He reached between Flores’ legs, finding his pants
damp with slick. All ready for Gareth’s cock. Fuck, fuck.
He didn’t have a condom here. He had some at home. There was a bed at home, too,
and—He was forgetting something important. Flores. Virgin. Needed to make it good
for him. Not fuck him in some dank alley.
Gareth squeezed his fingers between Flores’ cheeks; Flores grew even wetter for him.
And Gareth grew so hard, he hurt. They needed to get out of here.
Panting, Gareth broke the kiss; Flores leaned in, biting down sharply on Gareth’s lower
lip. Gareth throbbed. “Fuck. Gonna make you pay for that,” he growled, pushing his
fingers between Flores’ cheeks, right against where his hole was.
Flores shuddered so hard, Gareth thought he might come right there. And suddenly the
idea of Flores coming in his pants lodged in his mind, refusing to let go.
They really needed to get out of here.
Gareth braced one arm against the wall, leaning back just enough to glance around
them. He found the PI—the bastard was a few alleys down now. And there’d been no
camera flashes. So maybe they’d fooled him enough, or he’d been too disgusted, or
whatever.
Gareth stepped back to give Flores some space. Flores whined and followed him,
reaching down to squeeze Gareth’s cock through his pants. Gareth froze, throbbing. He
hadn’t had anyone touch his cock in a while. Flores was absolutely the wrong person to
do it. But Flores’ grip also sent a jolt of pleasure up his spine, and Gareth badly wanted
to rut into his palm. Instead, he pulled Flores’ hand away. Flores whined.
“Saving it for you,” Gareth growled.
Flores’ pupils dilated, leaving only a thin ring of hazel. Gareth grabbed his hand and
tugged him through the alley to the street-side entrance. Then he crouched, slipping his
arm against the back of Flores’ knees.
“What’re you doing?” Flores yelped.
“Gonna carry you.” Gareth swallowed. “I’m not gonna wait.”
“But—” Flores looked at him in confusion. “That’s not how you carry people.”
“It’s called a fireman’s carry.” Gareth glanced at Flores’ bulky jacket—he hadn’t noticed
it in the heat of the moment. “Have anything in there that’ll fall out?”
Flores wriggled out of his jacket; Gareth glimpsed four paint cans in a row, sitting snug
in some mesh pockets. Same on the other side. Damn, Flores traveled prepared.
Flores caught him staring, squirming guiltily. But Gareth shook his head. “Hold on to it.
I’m gonna get you up.”
Then he swept Flores off his feet and across his own shoulders, grasping Flores’ arm
and leg to secure him in place. Flores squawked, clutching at Gareth.
“You won’t fall,” Gareth told him. But he felt the press of Flores’ cock against his
shoulder, thick and hard. Flores had felt it, too. He squirmed, shoving that desperate
length against Gareth. Gareth gulped. The boy would drive Gareth insane with his
need. “I’d spank you if I could,” he growled. “Stop moving.”
Flores moaned, squirming harder against Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth increased his pace
to a stride. He needed to get Flores home, needed to get him naked, and his legs spread.
“That’s an order,” Gareth growled. “Stop moving, or you’ll be punished.”
Flores’ breath rushed out of him. With every step, he rocked harder against Gareth’s
shoulder. His breathing grew ragged, and his fingers tightened against Gareth’s arm. It
sounded like he was close. Gods. “Flores,” Gareth snapped.
“Gareth,” Flores whined. Gareth’s throat went dry.
They made it back to the SUV. Gareth unlocked it. Then he set Flores down and opened
the door, and Flores stepped forward. Instead of climbing into the car, he bent over,
yanking down the back of his pants—just enough to expose those pale, creamy cheeks.
Gareth throbbed. On instinct, he cracked his palm across Flores’ ass. “Don’t fucking do
that here!”
Flores gasped. “I need—”
Fuck. They were out in the open, just next to a sidewalk, and Gareth wanted to slam
inside Flores. Right here. Open him up so he howled and creamed himself. They
couldn’t do that.
Gareth stepped up behind Flores, just to shield him as much as he could. Then he
slipped a finger between Flores’ slippery cheeks, finding his wet, puckered hole. So
ready for him. Gareth’s balls pulled tight. Flores panted. Gareth stroked his hole,
pushing his fingertip into Flores’ tight heat.
Flores wheezed and shuddered, his hole clenching around Gareth’s finger. Just one
finger, and he was coming?
The beast in Gareth’s chest demanded to mount Flores, push inside him, open him up.
Gareth barely restrained it. He withdrew his finger, hitching Flores’ pants back up his
ass. “Get inside.”
He spanked Flores again. Flores gasped, stumbling into the car. The paint cans in his
jacket jangled together. And Gareth brought his trembling hand to his lips. Sniffed at
Flores’ musky slick. His fingertip glistened. Fuck. He licked it off, groaning at the slight
salt and musk.
Flores had turned to watch him, his mouth hanging open. “You can’t... do that.”
Gareth rolled Flores’ taste in his mouth. He wanted more of it. Wanted it dripping
down his damn face. “Why not?” Then he sniffed at the smears of slick still on his
finger. “You smell good.”
“It’s...” Flores flushed a bright red. He hugged his jacket to himself, and pulled the door
shut between them.
A smile tugged on Gareth’s lips. Now Flores wanted to be shy? What would it be like
when Gareth finally had him?
Gareth swallowed, striding to the driver’s side door. He’d discovered things about
Flores tonight. Only problem was, he had a million other questions he needed answers
to.
G ARETH TASTED MY SLICK . Flores hugged his crumpled-up jacket in mortification,
jumping when Gareth pulled the car door open on the other side. Gareth touched me.
Flores had come so hard, he’d been dizzy for a couple of seconds. And he was still half-
hard, his panties wet and sticky. It felt uncomfortable. Like he’d just peed himself.
Flores winced, pulling his waistband open so he could try to clean up. He didn’t like
feeling messy down there; his slick had made it bad enough as it was.
“What the hell are you doing?” Gareth snapped, halfway onto the driver’s seat. He’d
frozen, his eyes locking on Flores’ hips.
Flores squirmed. “Cleaning up.”
“Leave it.”
“But—”
“All I can smell in here is your musk,” Gareth growled, his eyes darkening. “You want
me to smell your come, too?”
Flores paused, glancing at his cock smeared shamelessly with thick fluid. Gareth had
done that. And he’d sucked down Flores’ slick like it was candy. How was that even
possible? Flores gulped. Did Gareth... want to taste his come, too?
Flores glanced at the hard line in Gareth’s pants, his hole squeezing. Saving it for you,
Gareth had said. Gods. Would Gareth keep that promise? Flores pulled his drenched
panties open wider, tilting his hips to show Gareth just how much of a mess he’d made.
“It doesn’t need cleaning?” Flores asked.
Gareth’s gaze dropped to Flores’ cock. And his fingers twitched like he wanted to
touch, a strangled groan tumbling from his lips. It raked all the way down Flores’ spine.
“Fuck. Don’t fucking do that.” Gareth tore his gaze away, shoving himself into the
driver’s seat. Then he slammed the door shut and shoved his key into the ignition,
jamming his seat belt buckle into its receiver. “Seat belt, Flores. Or you’re gonna fly
through the windshield.”
Gareth’s hands shook as he grasped the steering wheel. His throat worked, and maybe
that line in his pants grew even bigger. Flores’ breath rushed out of him. Gareth’s horny.
He wants to fuck me.
“Seat belt,” Gareth said again.
“Will you spank me if I don’t?” Flores asked. It was reckless. But his body needed, and if
that was what it took to push Gareth over the edge...
Gareth’s stare burned right through him. “If you don’t put it on right now, you aren’t
gonna get that ass filled tonight.”
Oh. Oh, gods. He means it. Flores whimpered, fumbling to click his seat belt into place.
Gareth’s going to fuck me. His throat went dry. His heart pounded, and the thought of
Gareth’s cock nudging at his hole made Flores leak.
Had his slick gone through his pants, and onto Gareth’s nice car seat? Mom and Dad
got furious whenever Flores spilled even a drop of water in the car. Anxious, Flores
reached under himself, whining when he found his pants wet.
“What’re you doing now?” Gareth growled, pulling the car onto the road. His teeth
were gritted, his knuckles white.
“I’m getting your car wet,” Flores mumbled.
“Fuck,” Gareth hissed. But instead of punishing him, Gareth kept his eyes on the road.
“So stop leaking all over my car.”
“How?”
“Plug it up.”
Flores’ body burned. Gareth was talking about Flores’ hole. He had to be thinking about
it, and Flores had never had anyone thinking about his intimate parts, aside from
Gareth. Did it make Gareth harder? His thighs tingled. “I don’t have anything to plug it
with.”
“Finger.” Gareth flicked his gaze over. “But don’t get off. I can’t fucking breathe in
here.”
All Flores smelled was musk, and Gareth’s applewood scent. He wriggled his hand
down the back of his pants, finding his slick-smeared cheeks. Then, his hole.
The moment he pushed his finger in, the car bounced over a pothole. Flores tried to
keep his finger inside, but the sudden movement tugged at his hole, and slick flowed
down his finger. He bit his lip to keep from whimpering.
“Plugged good and tight?” Gareth asked.

“It got worse,” Flores mumbled, his heart thudding. “The—The bump. I lost my grip
and... and more came out. There’s a puddle in my panties now.”
Gareth sucked in a slow breath, like he was struggling to keep his lust in check. And the
musk in the car grew thicker. “Make sure it’s all the way inside so it can’t move.”
Flores shoved his finger all the way in. His body was hot, snug, and he’d done it before.
Just not with Gareth right next to him, Gareth’s bulge growing thicker. Flores
whimpered. Gareth’s arms tensed, like he might rip the steering wheel right off.
“Keep quiet,” Gareth muttered.
“Or else what?”
Gareth flicked a molten glance at him. “I need to get us home.”
“What’s going to happen there?” Flores almost couldn’t breathe.
“Be quiet, and you’ll get your reward.”
Flores bit down his moan, his entire body throbbing anew. His heat clamored for an
alpha to fill him. His bones ached. It felt like forever until Gareth pulled into an empty
lot at the apartment complex. Then he cut the engine, strode out of the car, and yanked
Flores’ door open.
“Gareth—”
Gareth reached in, clicked off Flores’ seatbelt, and hauled Flores out of the car. Then he
slung Flores over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ass up in the air. Flores’
finger slipped out. He yelped and clenched his hole, just to make sure he wouldn’t leak
any more.
“Stop squirming, or I’m gonna drop you,” Gareth growled.
“I don’t want to leak all over you,” Flores mumbled.
A low rumble erupted from Gareth’s chest. He caught Flores’ hand, the one with the
slippery finger. Then he took Flores’ finger into his hot, damp mouth, and sucked. A jolt
shot down Flores’ body; his face burned.
That had just been inside Flores’ ass. Gareth was tasting him. “Gareth!”
Gareth groaned, his soft tongue sliding around Flores’ finger like a caress. Flores had
sucked on his own fingers before, but this—Gareth’s silky tongue stroked pleasure into
his skin. It felt like a decadent promise, and it went all the way down to his cock.
This was what it felt like to have sex. To have his entire body alight, his cock so hard it
could burst. And Gareth had promised to give Flores more.
“You’ll be moving in with me,” Gareth rumbled, locking his car.
Wait, what?
“W HAT ?” Flores yelped. As though he hadn’t heard Flores’ protest, Gareth carried him
through the building lobby, then the first floor hallway, until they reached his
apartment.
“What do you—” Flores wanted to push further. Except they were stepping into
Gareth’s apartment, Gareth’s bedroom, and suddenly the moving-in part wasn’t so
important anymore. This was.
“You’re serious,” Flores breathed, his heart almost pounding through his ribs. Gareth
wants to fuck me. Why else would he bring me into his bedroom?
Musk hung in the air, beneath Gareth’s applewood scent. It smelled like Gareth had
been jerking off by himself. Probably on that king-sized bed in the corner, complete
with a sturdy steel frame like in pornos, where they tied people to the bed rails.
Flores gulped. “You aren’t going to tie me up, are you?”
Gareth set Flores on his feet, slanting a burning glance at him. “Do you want to be?”
Blood swooped between Flores’ legs. “No. Wh-What made you change your mind?”
Flores blurted. “You’ve said no every time. And tonight, you just—”
He couldn’t say it. Gareth had kissed him, and those kisses had been nothing like what
Flores had thought a kiss would be. They’d gone straight to his toes, they’d lit his entire
body on fire. Gareth could kiss like that. Gareth had kissed him.
Flores wet his lips, nervous. Gareth studied him, his strong chest rising and falling.
“I’ve decided that I can trust you,” Gareth murmured.
Flores’ heart stopped. “Me?”
He looked down at himself—he knew he’d lost weight after moving out of his parents’
mansion. Flores had been spending his money on paint, skimping on food, and he knew
his ribs were visible. He’d lied to Gareth about his whereabouts, he’d been stupidly
rude to Gareth. He’d been kind of jobless, too.
And Gareth was just... perfect. He had money, he had a good life. He was strong and
handsome, and even if he was working for Flores’ parents, he was an upstanding
citizen.
What does he trust about me?

Gareth rumbled low in his throat, his gaze coasting down Flores’ body like he was
undressing Flores in his mind. Flores’ cock ached. His panties were still sticky with
come.
“You have one chance to say no,” Gareth growled, nudging his shoe between Flores’
feet. His warmth radiated into Flores’ chest. “If you don’t want this, get out of my
bedroom, right now.”
Flores’ breath fled his lungs. “You’re out of your mind,” he breathed, pressing himself
flush against Gareth’s hard body. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to.”
Then he rubbed himself against Gareth’s front, sneaking in a quick grope of Gareth’s
hard length before Gareth made him back off. Gareth’s cock was thick behind his pants,
big, and Flores really had no idea how that was going to fit inside him. But, gods, did he
want it. He squeezed it and moaned; Gareth swore, grasping Flores’ arm.
“Bed,” Gareth growled, hauling Flores to the side of the mattress. “Bend over.”
Flores’ hole squeezed. Gareth was going to fuck him right now. “You—You can’t fit
inside me.”
Gareth’s laugh was low and rough. “Who said anything about that?”
They weren’t? Flores whined, turning to look at Gareth. Before he could, Gareth’s palm
cracked across his ass. Flores yelped, pain awakening the rest of his nerves.
“Bend over,” Gareth said, his voice dangerously soft. “Now.”
Flores’ blood thrummed. He hurried to the bed and bent over it, pushing his ass up,
offering it to Gareth. Gareth groaned, reaching down to adjust his cock. Then he
cracked his palm across Flores’ ass again. Pain and pleasure twisted down Flores’ spine.
“Good.” Gareth grasped Flores’ asscheek, kneading it lightly. Then he grasped Flores’
waistband and stripped him from the waist down. He grabbed Flores’ shirt, too, peeling
that off his skin. And suddenly Flores was naked, bent over in front of a huge, hungry
alpha, and his body throbbed.
“Gareth,” Flores begged, reaching down to spread his ass. Gareth could probably see
his hole now. “Please—”
“Don’t do that,” Gareth hissed, snatching Flores’ hands away from his ass.
“Why—”
Gareth leaned in, his soft lips skimming Flores’ ear. “Present for me again, and you’ll
find yourself with an ass-full of cock. No prep at all.”
Flores grew so hard, he hurt. He gasped and squirmed, arching his back, straining for
more of Gareth. He wanted Gareth’s touch. His smell.
“Where’s your scent?” Gareth pressed his nose to Flores’ shoulder, where his scent
gland was. “It’s barely here at all.”
“I used suppressants,” Flores said, squirming in embarrassment. He’d done it to escape

Gareth’s scrutiny. “I—I didn’t want to be caught.”
“Spray-on, or pills?”
“Spray-on.”
The warmth at Flores’ back vanished. He whimpered, turning to see where Gareth had
gone. Gareth disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. Running water gurgled. Then
Gareth reappeared with a washcloth.
The shock of cool cloth on Flores’ skin made him jerk. With no warning at all, Gareth
began to scrub at Flores’ neck, back, and down his arms, to his wrists. Wiping off the
suppressants that Flores had sprayed on his body, and especially his scent glands. The
faintest trace of peony began to emerge from Flores’ skin. Then Gareth pressed hard on
the scent gland at Flores’ wrist. Pleasure thrummed through his body. Flores hissed.
Gareth growled, leaning in to sniff at his neck.
“Better,” Gareth murmured, sweeping his callused palms down Flores’ sides. He
reached Flores’ ass, grasping his cheeks, just massaging them. Anchoring Flores’
attention to where their bodies met. Where his hole lay eagerly in wait for Gareth’s
cock. Then Gareth brushed his nose against the scent gland on Flores’ shoulder, and
froze.
Gareth wheezed. His grip on Flores’ hips tightened painfully, and his musk deepened
like a sledgehammer to Flores’ chest. Gareth swore, low and loud, his breath coming in
ragged gasps.
“What’s wrong?” Flores asked, alarmed.
“Fuck.” Gareth panted, his breath hot on Flores’ shoulder. “In a rut.”
Flores froze. “What?”
Gareth shook his head. “How the fuck did it happen?”

Gareth was in a rut. That was a thing of porn movies, or something-something
bondmates forever. Not a random hookup with your neighbor. “What?” Flores said
again. “You can’t be.”
Instead of answering, Gareth snarled, pushing Flores flat against the bed. Then he
ground his covered cock against Flores’ ass, a hard, sinful thrust that promised. Flores’
insides turned molten-hot. He scrabbled against the sheets, pushing his hips up at
Gareth, his entire body tight with need. “Gareth, please.”
“You need to get the fuck away,” Gareth hissed. “Or you’re gonna regret it.”
Then he ground his cock between Flores’ cheeks, a desire to own him completely inside.
Flores shuddered, his hole squeezing with anticipation. He reached down, pulling his
cheeks wide open.
“Fuck.” Gareth snarled, grasping Flores’ hip. Then he shoved his cock right against
Flores’ hole, a rough scrape of fabric against his sensitive nerves. Flores’ entire body
sang. He shoved himself at Gareth, and Gareth swore, peeling Flores off the bed. Then
he turned Flores around and threw Flores back onto the mattress, so Flores landed with
a bounce, his entire body bared to Gareth’s scrutiny.
Instead of looking, Gareth grasped Flores’ legs, spreading them open. He prowled onto
the mattress. His gaze raked down Flores’ skin like a lover’s touch, and Flores’ nipples
pulled tight, his come-smeared cock jerking.
Gareth’s attention locked onto that movement. His eyes darkened. Then he leaned in,
cupping Flores’ ass and lifting him off the bed. Gareth’s breath soughed hot against
Flores’ cock. There was a pause when he glanced up, meeting Flores’ eyes.
He’s about to taste me. Flores shuddered. “Please.”
He spread his legs wider, an invitation. Gareth groaned and drew his hot tongue up
Flores’ cock, a damp touch that sent pleasure all the way through his nerves. Flores
gasped, his spine arching.
He’d tried touching his cock with wet hands, but nothing had felt like this. Soft, teasing
touches, light but demanding. Every stroke wound up the tension in his body. Gareth’s
tongue stroked up his cock with a delicate touch, smooth as silk. Then he swirled it
around Flores’ tip, pulling his foreskin down to expose his come-covered head. Flores
flushed, his face hot.
All Gareth did was close his mouth around Flores’ cock and suck it down. But it was an
overload of sensation—the heat, the tightness, the pressure on Flores’ cock growing,
like Gareth was trying to suck out all the remaining come he had in his body.
Flores throbbed in Gareth’s mouth, his legs starting to shake the longer Gareth tasted
him. The pleasure was too much. He’d touched himself, but this—it felt like Gareth
knew Flores’ body a lot better than Flores himself did, when he tightened his lips
around Flores’ cock and leaned away, letting the suction in his mouth increase until
Flores all but shuddered, his nerves humming with need, his balls pulling tight with his
next release.
“G-Gareth,” Flores panted.
Gareth’s eyes grew coal-dark. He squeezed Flores’ ass. Then he pulled Flores’ cheeks
open and slipped his fingers down, finding Flores’ slick-covered skin, and his virgin
hole. Flores jerked, his hole fluttering, anticipating touch. Gareth rubbed a thick
fingertip against it, groaning around Flores’ cock. The vibrations shook into Flores,
pushing him closer to the edge. He’s touching me there.
As though Gareth didn’t know the effect he had on Flores, he touched Flores’ hole.
Then he met Flores’ eyes—gods, he totally knew. And he squeezed that finger into
Flores, an invasive, unyielding pressure that went deeper and deeper. Flores
shuddered, opening around him, needing more. Gareth’s inside me.
Gareth pulled away from Flores’ cock, his finger curling inside Flores. “Fuck, you’re
tight.”
“M-More,” Flores begged, tugging hard on Gareth’s hair. He was seconds from coming,
and he needed this torment to stop.
Gareth narrowed his eyes, blowing lightly on Flores’ glistening cock. “You will not pull
my hair.”
Flores whimpered, releasing him. He curled his fists into the sheets instead, rolling
them up in fabric so he couldn’t move. His neglected cock jutted up at Gareth, flushed
red.
“Good boy,” Gareth rumbled.
Somehow, that settled something in Flores’ chest, something he didn’t know he’d been
craving.
Gareth returned to Flores’ cock, kissing up its sensitive underside. Then he licked its tip,
took it back into his mouth, and eased a second finger into Flores’ hole. Flores’ breath
punched out of his lungs. Gareth’s fingers were thicker than his own. Two of his fingers
felt like three of Flores’, and Flores didn’t feel like a virgin anymore, not with Gareth’s
fingers inside him, learning him. Stretching him open. Flores’ blush burned all the way
down his chest.
Gareth gave him time, curling his fingers, finding Flores’ prostate. Then he pressed
down on it, hard. Pleasure seared through Flores’ nerves; Flores arched, his cock jerking
inside Gareth’s mouth. Almost there.
Gareth relaxed his mouth entirely, pulling away until Flores could no longer feel him.
The pressure eased like a broken promise, and Flores thrashed, his release just a hair’s
breadth away. “Gareth!”
“You’re in my bed,” Gareth murmured, scissoring his strong fingers inside Flores’ ass.
“You get to decide nothing.”
Flores writhed, his body aching, his cock dripping shamelessly onto his belly. Then
Gareth drew it back into his mouth, pushing a third finger into Flores.
Pleasure crashed through Flores like a lightning strike. He clenched, his spine arching,
wetness shooting out his cock.
When he could breathe again, he found Gareth’s mouth still wrapped around him,
Gareth’s throat working. Gareth pulled away, licking his lips. “Mm.”
Flores stared, his face burning. I just came inside Gareth’s mouth. And he swallowed my
come.
“How was that?” Gareth rasped, his gaze heavy on Flores.
Flores blushed and squirmed. “I... I don’t feel like a virgin anymore.”
Gareth rumbled, pleased. “You haven’t taken a cock yet.” Mine.
And Flores’ body ached, his unresolved heat burning even hotter through his bones.
“I S that all the prep I need?” Flores spread his legs, still self-conscious about having
Gareth’s face so close to his hole.
Gareth swallowed hard. Then he lowered his mouth between Flores’ legs. For a
moment, Flores thought Gareth might suck on his oversensitive cock. Except Gareth
bent Flores almost in half, raised Flores’ ass to his face, and kissed down Flores’ balls, to
his hole. Flores squeaked in embarrassment. His mouth is there.
Gareth huffed, meeting his eyes. “You’re shy now?”
“I’m not shy!”
Gareth smirked. Then he kissed Flores’ hole, a soft, light touch. Flores tensed, shocked
by it. Gareth paused. “No?”
Flores didn’t even know what to say. “What are you doing? You aren’t supposed to—t-
to kiss that!”
Gareth’s mouth pulled into a grin. “Yeah? Why not?”
“‘Cause it’s—it’s embarrassing!”
“I’ve already tasted your cock.” Gareth blew lightly on Flores’ balls so they tightened
up. Then he kissed Flores’ hole again, flicked his soft, damp tongue against it, and
worked the tip of it inside. It felt better than it had any right to be. It felt like bliss.
Flores wheezed. He’s tasting me inside. Somehow, it only made his cock fill up again.
“Gareth!”
He almost tugged on Gareth’s hair. Except his heat still thumped in his veins, an ever-
present hunger that he couldn’t ignore. Not until he’d received a cock inside his ass.
Flores didn’t want to do anything that would make Gareth stop.
Gareth stroked him with his tongue, soft, languid strokes that flicked around Flores’
hole, before pushing back inside. It opened him up, darted inside him, and Flores felt as
though there was no part of him Gareth hadn’t touched. He gasped and shuddered, his
need building, his cock growing full, betraying him.
Flores writhed. “Gareth, please.”

“Please what?” Gareth rubbed his callused thumb over Flores’ entrance, and kissed it
again. Like it was a part of him that deserved that kind of attention.
Flores writhed. “Fuck me.”
Gareth groaned, kissing Flores’ hole. Except it was a lewd, thorough kiss this time, one
that went deep. Flores’ insides ached for his alpha. “G-Gareth!”
Gareth pumped his cock through his pants. When he lifted his head, his lips glistened—
Flores’ slick. Flores whined, embarrassed. But all Gareth did was lower Flores to the
bed. “You ready now?”
“Yeah.” Flores gulped.
Gareth unbuckled his belt. The zipper rasped. The he kicked off his pants, his thick cock
jutting up, flushed and straining. It looked even bigger than Flores remembered.
Hungrier. Flores’ ass grew so wet, it ached. “Is it going to break me?” he panted.
Gareth glanced at his own cock, then at Flores’ hole. When he spoke, his voice was a
hoarse rasp. “Not if I go slow. Get you used to me.”
Flores’ breath punched out of him. He spread his legs, barely breathing as Gareth
prowled closer, his cock pointing right at Flores, eager to plunge inside. Gareth licked
his lips, his pupils blown. “Fuck, Flores. You look so damn good.”
He was holding himself back. Flores saw it in the tremble of Gareth’s body, the way
Gareth forced himself to take slow, steadying breaths.
“What’ll happen if you just let go right now?” Flores whispered, reaching down to
touch Gareth’s cock. It pulsed in his hand, silky like his own, but so much heavier.
Gareth hissed, his hips snapping, his cock shoving desperately against Flores’ palm.
Flores dripped, imagining that thick length plowing inside him. Gareth’s chest heaved.
“That’ll happen. I’d be inside you in two seconds. All of it, Flores. Every fucking inch.”
Flores’ breath rushed out of him. “I want.”
Gareth groaned, wrapping his hand around Flores’, fucking into his open fist. “Not
gonna hurt you.”
The sweet friction between Gareth’s cock and Flores’ palm—that knocked the breath
out of his lungs.
Gareth leaned over, reaching into the nightstand. A box of condoms. It was wrapped,
slippery plastic all around. One of those difficult-to-open ones. Gareth fumbled with the
wrapping, swearing under his breath. Flores admired the flex of Gareth’s muscles, the
strength of his body. Then he reached up. “I’ll do it.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “I’m gonna.”
But his short nails skidded over the plastic, and he crushed the tiny box in his grip.
Flores tugged it out of his hands, finding the gold tab. Then the plastic was off the box,
and Gareth snatched the box back, his chest heaving, his musk so thick that Flores’
entire body sang for him.
Gareth pulled a foil packet out. Tore it. Then he rolled the condom over his cock, and it
barely fit him, stretched as it was. Flores moaned. Gareth would thrust all of that cock
inside him.
Gareth spat onto his fingers. Then he reached between them, pushing three fingers back
into Flores’ hole. Flores wheezed, his spine arching, his body taking Gareth inside.
Three of Gareth’s fingers were still smaller than his cock.
“Good?” Gareth growled.
Flores clenched around him. “Now. Please.”
A groan tore out of Gareth’s chest. He leaned in, scooping Flores up easily. Gareth
deposited Flores against the pillows, then prowled closer, fitting his hips against Flores’
ass, pinning Flores’ knees wide open so there was nothing between his cock and Flores’
hole. Flores reached down, spreading his cheeks for Gareth.
Gareth’s breath punched out of him. He grasped one of Flores’ wrists, anchoring it
above his head. Then his blunt tip nudged between Flores’ cheeks, spreading him. Gods,
he was big. Flores gasped, a little nervous. He’d never had anything that big inside him
before.
“We’re gonna go slow.” Gareth reached down to massage Flores’ hole, dipping three
fingers back inside him. Then he pushed his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and
Flores thought he might burst. Blood surged back into his cock. I can’t believe I’m hard
again.
Gareth withdrew his fingers. Then his cock nudged Flores’ hole, pressing down slightly.
Flores couldn’t breathe. Gareth would claim him now.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” Gareth whispered, his eyes pitch-dark, burning into Flores’
soul.
Then he pushed, and his tip eased into Flores, a thick, unyielding length. Flores
moaned, his body stretching open.
“Good?” Gareth paused, kneading around where his cock had parted Flores’ hole.
Flores nodded, trying to catch his breath. “More.”
Gareth sank another inch into him, then another—it felt like he was being stretched
impossibly wide. And Flores still needed more.
“Gareth, please,” he sobbed, need coursing through his veins, clamoring for more. His
body hurt, not having his alpha fully inside him. “Please.”
Gareth groaned, sinking in further. “Good?”
“Yes, more,” Flores panted. “Please fuck me already.”
Gareth trembled, hissing. “Gonna go slow for your first time, Flores.”
But Flores could tell that Gareth didn’t want to go slow. Not when he was in a rut.
Gareth wanted to fit his entire cock into Flores, and begin fucking him like an animal.
“Let me take all of your cock. Please.”
Gareth gritted his teeth. “Not gonna hurt you.”
Flores reached down and spread his ass, and Gareth’s hips snapped forward, even
before he could curse. Every inch of Gareth’s cock pushed inside Flores, filling him
fuller than he’d ever been. Flores panted, his body burning, his hole stretched
impossibly wide.
“What the fuck, Flores?” Gareth snarled, even as he groaned and trembled, trying to
restrain himself.
“Fuck me already,” Flores panted. His cock ached. “Please.”
Gareth cursed. “You’re gonna be punished for that.”
“I don’t care.” Flores raked his nails down Gareth’s back. Gareth’s swore, his hips
snapping, his cock massaging Flores inside. Flores cried out. “More.”
“I’m trying to slow down, damn it.”
“I don’t want you to.” Flores leaned in and bit him hard on the shoulder. “Teach me
what heat fucking is. Gareth, please.”
Gareth hissed. His eyes blazed, and he pulled out, plunging all the way inside. Flores’
nerves lit up like fireworks. His voice broke. He shuddered, taking his alpha’s cock.
“Fuck.” Gareth’s chest heaved. He rolled his hips, slamming back inside, grinding a jolt
of bliss through Flores’ body. “You won’t—won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Flores choked on his moan when Gareth fucked viciously into him. Pleasure
coursed through his veins, and it felt exquisite. Better than he’d ever imagined. “H-
Harder.”
Gareth gave a disbelieving huff, that melted into a groan when he seated his cock fully
into Flores, their hips slapping together, his balls tapping Flores on the ass. “Take my
cock,” Gareth breathed, giving another savage thrust. “Fucking take all of it.”
And his thrusts grew harder, sharper. Flores groaned, the burn in his body melting
away as he adjusted to Gareth, the way he fitted inside Flores, big and heavy, claiming
him. Gareth felt like bliss. Flores couldn’t hold on, not when Gareth’s cock touched him
in all the right places, swelling inside him, promising a load of thick come.
That image sent a hot spike of need through his body. Flores gasped and clawed at
Gareth, starting to clench around his alpha. “G-Gareth, I-I...”
“Come for me,” Gareth snarled, anchoring Flores against himself. Then he increased his
pace, massaging Flores inside until Flores’ balls pulled tight and all he knew was that
intense, growing need, and Gareth surging in his body, owning every bit of him.
The winding tension inside him broke with a snap; blinding pleasure flooded through
him, arching his back, curling his toes. For the longest moment, Flores couldn’t breathe.
He could only hang on, shuddering as wave after wave of bliss rocked through his
body.
“Fuck,” Gareth hissed, gripping Flores tighter. His thrusts deepened, his breathing
grew ragged. He plunged inside Flores, a savage kiss between their bodies. Flores
moaned, taking him. That seemed to send Gareth over the edge; he gripped Flores tight,
his hips stuttering as he gave a final thrust, pulsing.
In that moment, as he leaned over Flores, Gareth’s face was a study of satisfaction and
pleasure. His eyelids had fluttered shut, his hair matted damply against his forehead.
He’d lowered his guard completely, leaving himself vulnerable. So different from the
disapproving frowns he’d shot Flores in the past. There was more to Gareth than
punishments, more to him than threats and disappointed sighs.
Flores couldn’t help admiring Gareth. The planes of his broad chest, the flex of his
biceps. The dark brush of his lashes, and his full lips.
He’d just had sex with an alpha. Possibly one of the most handsome Flores had ever
met. If this was what sex was like, no wonder everyone seemed to love it.
Gareth withdrew and rolled onto his back, slinging his arm across his face. He was
quiet for a moment. A sheen of sweat coated his skin, and his shirt stuck damply to his
chest. But his cock was still hard, and ever so slowly, his knot began to swell.
Flores had never taken a knot before, either, but right now, he wasn’t sure he could fit
anything even bigger than Gareth’s cock. He sagged back onto the bed, his entire body
boneless, a trail of come on his stomach.
I just had sex with Gareth. Did he... like it?
He sneaked a look at Gareth. Gareth still wasn’t acknowledging him. Now that Gareth
had seen all of him, now that Gareth had been inside him, Flores didn’t know what
exactly they were. Just... neighbors? He wet his lips, fidgeting. Was this the part where
he pulled on his clothes and did the walk of shame?
Slowly, Flores squirmed toward the foot of the bed.
“What’re you doing?” Gareth rumbled, lifting his arm to glance at Flores.
Flores froze, his heart pattering. “Um. Leaving?”
“You aren’t going back to that apartment,” Gareth said with such a tone of finality that
Flores paused.
“Why?”
“The PI was in there tonight. He has a duplicate key.” Gareth met his eyes. “You want
someone sneaking around while you sleep?”
What? Flores stared. He tried to wrap his mind around that. Someone had been in his
apartment tonight. Someone had seen his things. His watercolors. All the cans of spray
paint lying around, with all his fingerprints. I should’ve hidden that. Flores gulped, his
heart kicking. “Are they going to arrest me?” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.
Gareth scowled. “Not if I have anything to say about it. He doesn’t have enough
evidence, anyway.”
Flores stared even more. Gareth had hugged Flores, he’d bought Flores a croissant.
He’d helped Flores when his dad was here. As much as he was starting to like Gareth,
Flores had written all those off as anomalies.
But tonight, Gareth had helped Flores again. And now, this. “Why are you helping
me?”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “I saw your painting. The one at Licorice Street.”
Flores’ heart stopped. He saw. “It’s—It’s not done yet. You aren’t supposed to look. I
still have to touch it up, there’s a few spots around—”
“You didn’t tell me you were a master artist.” Gareth sat up, his abs flexing. He slid the
condom off, tied it, and pulled the sheets across his hips. “You should’ve said
something.”
Master artist? Flores’ entire head burned. He’d received compliments online before, but
coming from Gareth? That was shocking. It made his heart skip. “You kept being angry
when I painted. I wasn’t going to show you any of that. You’d just throw me back at my
mom and dad, and they’d lock me up.”
At that, Gareth had the decency to look sheepish. “Well, yeah. Sorry. I thought you
were one of those gangster kids tagging all the public spaces.”
“I do not do that,” Flores snapped. “That’s just barbaric.”
“Now I know.” Gareth met his eyes, smiling crookedly. “Truce?”
He held his hand out—a handshake? It felt weird, coming on the heels of the best sex
Flores had ever had. He eyed Gareth’s hand. “What does that involve?”
“My protection,” Gareth said.
Flores stopped breathing. No one had ever offered him that. “You’re working for my
parents.”
“Yeah. This means that, instead of letting them decide what your punishments are, I’ll
be the one in charge. But I will also not let anyone put you in jail.”
Flores’ throat grew tight. Gareth didn’t think he was a criminal. “You’re for real?”
“A hundred percent, yeah.”
There was no hint of a lie on Gareth’s face. His hand was still out, waiting for a
handshake. Flores didn’t know what to say. “What kind of... punishments would you
have?”
A slow smile curved Gareth’s lips. Flores’ cheeks scorched. Those kinds of punishments.
The ones where he bent Flores over his knee.
“Don’t wanna?” Gareth raised an eyebrow.
Flores didn’t like being spanked. But it sure was a lot better than going to jail. Especially
if he got to see more of Gareth naked like this. “How would you know I’m not doing
things just to get punished?”
Gareth’s smile grew. “We’ll see.”
Flores wet his lips. “You don’t own me, you know.”
“Yeah, I don’t.” Gareth’s gaze wandered down Flores’ body. There wasn’t lust in his
eyes right now, just a warm appreciation, and familiarity. And Flores was suddenly
aware of the trace of applewood on his skin.
What would it feel like to have someone protect him? To have someone just... believe in
him? Gareth had said Flores danced well. He’d liked Flores’ painting. And that was a
lot more than anyone had ever given Flores, save for Emil.
Flores’ pulse quickened. “If I can’t go back to my apartment, where am I gonna stay?”
“Here.” At Flores’ wide eyes, Gareth laughed. “No, you’ll get your own room. You
won’t be sleeping in my bed.”
“So... we won’t have sex?” Flores tried to fight his disappointment. He wanted more of
what they’d done tonight.
Gareth looked thoughtful. “It’ll be a reward.”
Gods, Flores could live with that. He accepted Gareth’s hand. “Okay.”
Gareth snorted. “All you need is some good ol’ fucking, huh?”
Flores blushed. “You’re offering it, aren’t you?”
“Guess I am,” Gareth rumbled, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. He squeezed
Flores’ hand, his thumb brushing Flores’ knuckles. He felt warm. Safe. Flores wanted
more of that contact. Wanted more of that kindness.
“Can I have a hug?” he asked.
Surprise flickered through Gareth’s face. For a moment, Flores thought Gareth might
reject him. But Gareth held his arms out. Flores scrambled over, eager for more skin
contact.
Gareth’s chest was still damp, musk all over his skin. Flores pressed his nose against
Gareth’s neck, close to where the silvery scar on his scent gland was. “You smell good.”
And he filled his lungs with Gareth’s applewood scent.
“I smell like sweat,” Gareth growled.
Flores buried his face against Gareth’s shoulder, groaning when Gareth pulled him
close so they were chest-to-chest. In Gareth’s lap, in the circle of his muscular arms,
little else mattered. Gareth had promised protection. He’d offered Flores shelter. Gareth
carded his fingers through Flores’ hair, and he stroked his wrist down Flores’ back.
Flores stiffened. Was Gareth... marking him with his scent?
“If you don’t want that, I’ll refrain in the future,” Gareth murmured.
Flores shook his head quickly. “No, no. I—” he took a deep breath “—I want it.” Right
now, with Gareth’s scent on him, with Gareth’s protection on his skin, Flores felt like
he’d finally found somewhere he belonged.
Gareth rumbled, stroking his wrists down Flores’ arms, his legs. He waited for a long
moment, just holding Flores. Then he untangled their limbs.
“I have a proposal,” Gareth said.

O F ALL THINGS ... Flores had asked for a hug. Then he’d proceeded to plaster himself
against Gareth’s sweaty chest, making soft sounds of contentment that Gareth wasn’t
sure Flores was even aware of.
When had Flores last received comfort like this? It didn’t seem like he had many
friends. Had he been lonely? Gareth’s chest squeezed. Flores’ parents weren’t exactly
fond of him.
Hell—Gareth had promised Tim Williams that he wouldn’t touch his son. That promise
had gone right out the window. He’d gone and sunken his cock into Flores’ ass, and
Flores had panted and squirmed and accepted all of it. Gareth had almost lost his mind,
opening him up.
It had been the most intense sex he’d had in a while. The best, too, when Flores had
tipped his head back, his pale throat exposed, gasping like Gareth’s cock was the most
exquisite thing in the world. Gareth swallowed, pushing that memory out of his mind.
At least his past self had the foresight to put a box of condoms in the nightstand. When
had he done that, though? He couldn’t remember.
He’d think about it later. Right now, Flores was staring at him with rapt attention. And
Gareth wanted to hold him close. Broken promise to Tim be damned.
It felt good, having someone to protect again.
“Your art,” Gareth said. “It isn’t safe for you to paint out on the streets.”
Flores stiffened against him. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“I have somewhere you can take it.” Gareth swallowed. It hadn’t even occurred to him
until he’d seen the painting on Licorice Street. And then he’d felt torn, because the
house hadn’t solely belonged to him. “I have a property on the edge of Meadowfall.
Nice place. Five bedrooms. Plenty of walls for you to go crazy with.”
Flores stared, his mouth falling open. “You’d let me paint your actual home?”
Smart boy. Gareth shifted uncomfortably beneath him. “It needs to be cleaned up a bit
first. But yeah. Most of my things are there.” Derek’s, too. “I just figured that the PI
can’t nail you with anything if you’re on private property. I’ll draw up a contract to
cover your ass.”
Flores’ eyes grew round. “Oh.” Then he looked hesitant, touching Gareth’s arm
gingerly with a finger. “You don’t have to do that, you know. That’s way too generous
for someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Gareth huffed. “Boy, there’s people out there who would pay you
heaps of cash to paint on their walls.”
Flores blinked. Then he gave a cheeky smile. “Does that mean you’d pay me with sex?”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “No. I’m not commissioning you to draw anything. I’m just
saying that the house is free for you to paint in. Most rooms. Leave two blank. I’ll tell
you which ones when you get there.”
“This goes on my tab too, right?” Flores grimaced. “Staying here with you, and if I paint
in your house.”
“Nah.” Gareth shook his head. “Those are extra.”
Flores chewed his lip, eyeing Gareth in a new light. “You’re doing way too much for
me. I mean, I still owe you money and everything. But the audition results will be
released tomorrow. If I—When I get a position in the cast and start making money, I’ll
pay you back.”
Gareth shrugged. “Sure. It’s getting late, though. I’ve gotta wake up early for work. Get
dressed.”
“Dressed?” Flores squawked when Gareth nudged him toward the edge of the bed.
Gareth looked pointedly at him. “You’d rather get your things from your apartment
tomorrow? When the PI can drop by?”
Flores cringed, shaking his head vigorously. “No.”
“So get some clothes on.”
Gareth pulled out a pair of slacks from his closet, stepping into them. Slacks were the
best thing to wear when you had an erection and knot taking up room in your pants.
Flores wobbled into his clothes. Gareth left the apartment. Flores caught up with him in
the common hallway, his hair tousled, his cheeks flushed. He looked like he’d been
freshly fucked, and part of Gareth was stupidly proud of putting that look on him.
No, he wasn’t proud of himself.
Gareth pulled out his duplicate key. Flores’ eyes almost fell out of his head. “You have a
key to my apartment?”
“...Yes.” Gareth shrugged when Flores looked accusingly at him. “Hey, I’ve never used
it until tonight. Had to make sure that you weren’t in there when the jerk visited.”
“But you could’ve gone in anytime before this!”
“Did I?” Gareth arched an eyebrow. “You’ve ducked in there countless times after I
almost caught you painting, and I’ve never used my key.”
“Well, no.” Flores pressed his lips together, the corners of his mouth twitching up ever
so slightly. Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to smile.
Gareth hadn’t forgotten about that smile. Now that Flores would be sharing a space
with him, maybe... Flores could heal a little more. Somehow.
“C’mon,” Gareth said, unlocking the door.
Inside, they found a toppled box of rolled-up canvases. Flores grimaced. “That was
upright when I left.”
“Yeah, I heard a crash,” Gareth said. “Thought it was you.”
Flores stared at the canvases for a long moment, wrapping his arms around himself. He
looked unnerved. Yeah, no. He was better off moving into Gareth’s place.
“I’m not asking you to move out completely,” Gareth said, handing Flores a couple of
empty cardboard boxes he found. “Take only what you need. Let him think you’re still
living here.”
Flores nodded, collecting the paint cans scattered around the apartment. Gareth left him
to it. He stepped into the kitchen, remembering the instant ramen and soda on Flores’
breath, the stark lines of his ribs. So Gareth opened the fridge.
Empty shelves greeted him. There was a pack of half-eaten pepperoni, a bottle of soda,
and an empty egg carton. A tray of ice cubes in the freezer. Further inspection of the
surrounding cabinets yielded two bowls, a mug, a plate, and a stack of three flavors of
the cheapest instant ramen.
Gareth stared, his heart sinking. He hoped his own son had a pantry better stocked than
this. “Flores?”
“Yeah?”
“Come here for a sec. Kitchen.”
Footsteps pattered over. Flores stopped in the kitchen doorway, looking uncertain. And
the scolding on Gareth’s tongue fizzled out. Instead of asking what Flores had been
eating, Gareth asked, “If I were to give you twenty bucks, what would you buy at the
grocery store?”
“Strawberries,” Flores blurted. “And, um, a steak. And apples. And maybe some milk? I
can’t finish half a gallon, though... Wait. Are the twenty bucks supposed to last two
weeks?” He chewed his lip. “Maybe not the steak. Or the strawberries.”
His gaze darted away, to a disposable plastic box on the far end of the counter. Gareth
wouldn’t have recognized it, if it weren’t for the ass-shaped sticker from Ben’s Buns
across the top. He crossed the kitchen, picking the box up. No crumbs or powdered
sugar inside. Had Flores washed the box?
Flores sucked in a sharp breath, looking away. His face had turned a bright red. “I, um.
I meant to toss that.”
He was lying. “Yeah?” Gareth asked lightly, scanning the kitchen for a trashcan. “I’ll
toss it for you.”
He made for the trash, only to have Flores squawk, snatching the box out of his hands.
“I’ll—I’ll toss it myself.”
Flores hugged the box against his chest, looking at the floor. Gareth’s heart ached for
him. “Flores,” Gareth murmured, catching his chin. He tipped Flores’ face up so their
eyes met. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”
Flores’ blush deepened. “I really am going to toss it.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because.” And then he stopped talking.
Gareth huffed. “‘Because’ isn’t an answer. Did you think that was a housewarming
gift?”
Flores bit his lip, cradling the box. “Are you going to give me another?”
For him to treat something disposable with such care—was it that important to him?
“You liked the croissant that much? I can get you another.”
Flores chewed harder on his lip, until it turned white. “Yeah.”
Still a lie. Gareth wasn’t sure how to coax the truth out of him. He stepped closer,
slipping his fingers into Flores’ hair. Flores had liked that. Flores sucked in a shaky
breath, his gaze locking onto Gareth.
“Tell me,” Gareth murmured. “I won’t judge.”

When Flores still didn’t budge, Gareth drew him close, pressing Flores’ face lightly
against his chest. “I won’t look at you,” Gareth added. “You can tell it to my chest.”
He stroked Flores’ nape, kneading his thumb down Flores’ skin. Flores trembled. “It’s
the first gift I got since I moved in here,” Flores mumbled, his voice barely audible. And
even more quietly, “It felt like you were gonna kiss me in that shop.”
Yeah, Gareth had almost kissed him. He hadn’t thought that moment had impacted
Flores, enough for him to flush like this.
“You wanted to be kissed that much?” Gareth asked, just as quietly.
Flores’ receding blush came back in full force. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.
And maybe... Gareth wanted to make it up to him. He’d stolen Flores’ first kisses. “You
want another kiss?” Gareth asked.
Flores’ gaze locked onto his. Then he looked at Gareth’s mouth, squirming. “N-no. You
don’t have to.”
Except every inch of Flores had focused on Gareth’s lips, making them tingle. It felt
wrong to get Flores’ hopes up if he wasn’t going to follow through. So Gareth touched
his thumb to Flores’ mouth, letting damp skin catch on his calluses. Flores felt good.
Enticing. I shouldn’t kiss him.
Gareth pressed a kiss to the corner of Flores’ lips instead, breathing in peony. It still felt
far too intimate. “Maybe,” Gareth said. “We’ll see.”
Flores sighed, leaning into Gareth’s chest. “Thank you, sir.”
Gods, that felt good. “I did nothing.”
“You did everything.” Flores tucked his head under Gareth’s chin. “I just... I wanted to
say I’m sorry. For being such a brat.” Before Gareth could ask why he was doing this,
Flores continued, “You were trying to help, and I just... I was horny. I’m sorry. I kept
pushing you.”
That was more mature of him than Gareth had expected. And maybe he liked Flores,
just a little bit more. He stroked his fingers through Flores’ hair. “Can’t say I blame
you.”
Flores blinked up at him, surprised. “You didn’t mind?”
“I minded my reaction to it.” Gareth smiled wryly. “It’s difficult to tell my cock not to
get hard. ‘Specially when you’re offering that ass.”
Flores’ mouth twitched again, a little wider this time. Then he reached down, and
Gareth felt the quick squeeze of his fingers.
“You feel so good,” Flores breathed, stroking Gareth’s cock. “I want this over and over
again.”
That made Gareth’s chest puff up with pride. Just that they’d get distracted, if he let
Flores touch him any more. Gareth caught Flores’ hands, pulling it away from his still-
hard cock. “Get your things. We aren’t having a vacation here.”
Flores blushed and hurried away, still cradling the croissant box close. If Gareth didn’t
know better, he’d have thought Flores was developing a crush on him.
By the time Flores was ready to go, they’d filled two boxes full—paints, lace panties,
some clothes, Flores’ ballet shoes. Then there was his phone charger, and a ratty pillow.
Gareth raised an eyebrow at the pillow. Flores scowled, shoving it deeper into the box.
“I need that pillow. If I ever sleep in your bed, the pillow’s coming along.”
“Tonight will be your only chance,” Gareth said dryly. Before Flores’ imagination could
spiral, Gareth explained, “I’ll be taking the couch. You’ll get your own bed tomorrow.
Well, day after. I work tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Flores sagged, looking disappointed.
There wasn’t much Gareth could do about that. He wasn’t getting any closer to Flores
than he had to.
They returned to his apartment, Gareth nodding toward the spare room where Flores
could set his things. While Flores unpacked, Gareth slipped back into his bedroom. The
box of condoms had been bothering him. He should’ve remembered getting a new
pack. But when had that been? Three months ago? Six months?
He pulled open the nightstand drawer, grabbing the crushed box. Looked for the tiny
date that would jog his memory.
The condoms had expired a year ago.

G ARETH KISSED ME . Flores tucked his croissant box out of sight, his heart pattering.
Granted, it had only been a corner-of-the-mouth kiss. But that had been so different
from the desperate alley kiss meant to hide him.
It had been a fingers-on-neck, deliberate kiss. Gareth had looked into Flores’ eyes, and
Flores’ stomach had flipped.
What’s going on between me and him?
They weren’t boyfriends. Not even friends. Maybe Gareth had done it to save a spot in
Flores’ bed, but... It hadn’t felt that way. He’d gone and offered Flores his bed, and
tonight, Flores would get to spend more time breathing in that applewood scent.
Flores suppressed his excitement, hauling his pillow into Gareth’s bedroom. The room
smelled like musk, applewood, and a trace of peony.
Instead of Gareth getting ready for bed, Flores found the alpha sitting on the edge of his
mattress, staring at a small box in his hand. Gareth’s lips were thin, his eyes old.
Flores cleared his throat awkwardly. “Gareth?”
Gareth glanced up, his mouth thinning even further. Then he sighed, rubbing his
temples. “Flores. Sit down for a minute.”
That sounded bad. Flores had seen Gareth angry, he’d seen Gareth amused. But this
look... Flores didn’t know what to make of it. Nervous, he padded closer, glancing at
the box Gareth held. Ultra thin for heightened sensations. Prepare for an earth-shattering
experience.
“I fucked up,” Gareth said. “These expired.”
Flores sat numbly on the bed, the words swimming in his mind. “Oh. It... didn’t break,
right?”
Gareth leaned over, grabbing something off the floor. The condom was knotted on one
end, its tip bulging with pearly fluid. Flores blushed. That was inside me.
“It’s leaking a little,” Gareth said, rotating the condom.
On its other side, a tiny bead of white fluid clung to the swollen latex. Gareth grasped
the empty half of the condom, slid his fingers down until he reached the come reservoir,
and squeezed. The bead of fluid grew larger. Then it rolled down the side of the
condom, and dripped into Gareth’s lap.
There was a hole in the condom. Flores stared. “Did it... leak inside me?”
Gareth sighed. “I don’t know. Probably.”
Flores’ mind struggled to catch up. He’d just spent his heat with an alpha. He’d been
painting before this. He was waiting on his audition results. Pregnancy wasn’t in his
plans at all. He gulped, a hint of panic creeping through his nerves. “I’m... not going to
get pregnant, right?”
“There are ways to solve that,” Gareth said heavily, meeting Flores’ eyes. “I can get you
a morning-after pill, if you want. If you decide to cease the pregnancy further along,
there’s abortion pills, and surgical procedures. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it.”
“Are you going to add that to my tab?” Because it was the most logical thing Flores
could think of. He didn’t want to panic right now.
Gareth shook his head. “It’s my fault. I’ll take responsibility.”
Through the unease brewing in Flores’ gut, he realized that Gareth looked terrible.
More than he should’ve been. Flores had seen movies where alphas knocked up omegas
and left, alphas who didn’t care that omegas got pregnant. But Gareth looked...
wrecked.
Flores pushed aside his own anxiety, reaching over to pull Gareth into a hug. “It’s
okay,” Flores said. “I’ll deal with it.”
Gareth sucked in a shaky breath. “No. It’s not fucking okay.”
“You aren’t even the one getting pregnant.”
“No, I’m not.” Gareth’s laugh was bone-dry. There were shadows under his eyes, and
lines at the corners of his lips. Was this a catastrophe?
“What’s so bad about it?” Flores asked. “I can just get an abortion, right?”
Gareth winced. “I guess.”
He unnerved Flores, all shaken up like this. It was difficult to read Gareth when he
wasn’t angry or aroused. “What’s so bad about abortions?”
Gareth was silent for a long moment. “Bad memories. Derek had one once. He almost
died.”
A cold chill slid down Flores’ spine. “Oh.”
Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, getting an abortion. Flores didn’t know. He hadn’t
done his research. Whatever it was... Gareth sure loved his omega a lot. And maybe
Flores felt a little envious of that other man.
“Medicine’s more advanced these days, right? I read that abortions are safer now,”
Flores said.
Gareth shook his head, his lips pursed. “I’d much rather you carry the baby. I’ll raise it
when it’s born.”
That was a lot more commitment than Flores was willing to take on. He couldn’t
possibly get pregnant. He didn’t want to be. His mom had screamed, If you ever get your
sorry ass knocked up, you’ll be disowned. We don’t need more liabilities.
I don’t want to be a liability. Flores squirmed, the panic in his heart expanding to fill his
chest. “I don’t know if I can. I just...”
“Hey,” Gareth murmured, squeezing his hand. “Calm down. It’ll be okay. I didn’t mean
to scare you.”
“I don’t want to be pregnant,” Flores whimpered. “I’ll become a liability and—and—”
You won’t want me around, either. That realization shook him more than he expected it to.
Before tonight, Flores had assumed that Gareth didn’t want to be around him, anyway.
But now that Gareth had held him and kissed him, now that Flores knew what it felt
like to be accepted, he didn’t want it to end.
Flores squirmed, looking at the door, wondering if he should just return to his own
apartment.
“Flores.” Gareth tugged Flores onto his lap and pulled him into a warm hug. “Sorry. I
shouldn’t be pushing. I just—” He pressed his forehead against Flores’ shoulder,
breathing out. “I can’t lose more people, okay?”
He fell silent after that, just holding Flores. Flores’ heart pattered. “But isn’t pregnancy
expensive? Or even an abortion? I can’t afford any doctor’s visits, Gareth. I can’t even
afford the morning after pills.”
“I’ll deal with it.” Gareth pulled Flores tighter against him. “If you rack up any
expenses, I’ll handle them. Don’t worry about those.”
Flores swallowed hard. His head was starting to hurt. “I don’t want to think about any
of this. It’s too much right now.”
Gareth sighed. He stroked Flores’ back. “Then don’t. I’ll leave you some money for pills
tomorrow. Go to sleep, now.”
Flores squirmed, still uncomfortable. Too much was going on. He didn’t even know if
he would get a role in the ballet performance. But Gareth had stopped talking, his palm
rubbing steadily up and down Flores’ back. It soothed him, calmed the buzzing panic in
his nerves. Flores settled his cheek against Gareth’s shoulder, just breathing him in.
Gareth still felt safe. Gareth had promised to help.
Somehow, despite all the worries piled into his chest, Flores fell asleep.
M Y BUTT ’ S SORE , Flores had texted the next morning.
Any regrets? Gareth had texted back.
No, Flores had answered.
Gareth couldn’t help thinking back to those texts, over and over. Remembering how
he’d stretched Flores, how Flores had taken all of Gareth like a good boy. And then
there were the expired condoms.
“Something wrong?” Dom stopped next to Gareth, sending him a shrewd, sidelong
glance.
Gareth blinked himself back to the scene, swearing when he realized he’d just spaced
out on a call. And his team deputy had caught him. Fuck. “Was distracted. Won’t
happen again.”
Dom raised an eyebrow, surveying the cleanup of a house fire happening some yards
away. It had been a relatively small kitchen fire. They’d evacuated the place, and put
out the fire. The cleanup was probably the worst part of it.
“Not like you to be distracted,” Dom said curiously.
“No, it’s not,” Gareth admitted, his face burning—and it wasn’t even from the fire this
time. “I just... Issues at home.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” There wasn’t much to talk about. I might’ve knocked up the boy I’m watching
over. Friend’s kid. How had things gone from zero to five-alarm in a night?
It was the PI. The painting on Licorice Street. Then things had gone sideways, Gareth
had taken Flores’ virginity, and he’d been too horny to realize he’d fucked up on his
prep.
“Nothing fazes you,” Dom said blandly, his sharp stare anything but. “We joined the
station the same year. The only time—”
“No, don’t talk about that.” Gareth trusted Dom not to mention that car accident, but
even then... He really didn’t need the reminder. He’d gone and fucked Flores, and
Derek’s picture had still been hanging in the hallway.
Hell, Gareth had still been wearing his wedding ring. His guilt almost suffocated him.
He wanted to punch something until his knuckles bled.
“Is this about that new omega you’ve been hanging around with?” Dom asked,
nudging Gareth lightly. Despite Dom’s reputation as a hard-ass second-in-command,
and the way he sniped at the younger team members, he really did have a heart. He just
chose not to show it most times. And sometimes, Gareth wished Dom didn’t know so
much about him.
He touched his chest, where his ring was on his days off. “Some things happened. I’m
not sure I know how to explain it to Derek.”
Still hurt, saying that name.
“I don’t think Derek meant for you to spend the rest of your life alone.”
You can’t possibly know what he wanted, Gareth wanted to growl. So what if Dom had
visited Gareth’s old home on and off? So what if he’d been a good family friend? Dom
didn’t know Derek like Gareth did.
Gareth suppressed the coil of angry heat in his chest, swallowing his words. It wasn’t
Dom’s fault that Gareth had never spoken to Derek about what-ifs. Gareth had been
complacent. And he’d never needed to know Derek’s thoughts on another omega until
now. Until things had suddenly gotten complicated with Flores.
Last night, with Flores snoring quietly in his arms, things had felt... familiar. They’d felt
right. Like they hadn’t been since Derek had gone. Gareth had pressed his nose into
Flores’ hair, he’d brushed Flores’ bangs away from his forehead, and he hadn’t realized
how tender he was being until the ring had slipped out between the buttons of his shirt.
“I’m not getting involved wi—” Gareth began.
Jesse shouldered past Dom. Then, as though he wasn’t aware of shoving their team
deputy, Jesse continued toward the truck, pulling his helmet off. Silvery scars and
angular grooves covered his bald head—precise, human-inflicted injuries that made
Gareth’s stomach turn.
Dom narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t been getting along with Jesse lately. They’d been
arguing over the smallest things, and Gareth had told Jesse to cool it. Jesse had ignored
him. It figured, when Jesse wasn’t so much older than Flores was.
“You’re hooking up with someone?” York stopped next to Gareth, his eyebrows
crawling up his sweat-drenched forehead. At least, York looked less flustered now than
he’d been at Ben’s Buns. “Flores?”
Gareth’s face scorched. He wished he hadn’t asked to borrow York’s five-year-old son,
because Caleb would probably bring home all the juicy tidbits to York and Perry. If
anything happened.
“Things just got complicated,” Gareth muttered.
“Honey solves a lot of problems,” York said sagely. “Drop by my place if you need a
jar. We just bought some.”
“What—Never mind. I don’t need to know.”
“Tell me about this honey.” Dom tore his gaze away from Jesse and glanced at York.
“Inquiring minds need to find out.”
York grinned. He hadn’t joined the station too long ago, but Gareth was glad to see that
York had settled in with the rest. “You dip your meat into the honey jar,” York said.
“You can solve a lot of problems with a honeyed-up cock.”
“What the fuck,” Gareth said. He didn’t need that mental image of York, but whatever.
Dom laughed—rare, coming from him. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.”
York puffed out his chest. “It’s a secret, but it so works. If anyone else on the team
needs some...”
“You sound like you’re selling a sex pill,” Gareth told him.
York winked. “Kind of, except it’s all-natural. Organic, even.”
“Well, don’t offer it to Flores,” Gareth said. “He’s enough trouble as he is.”
York looked thoughtfully at Gareth. Then his smile grew sly, and he shrugged. “I can’t
promise anything.”
That fucker. Gareth flipped him off discreetly—his middle finger scratching his cheek.
York smirked and stalked off, and Dom looked pointedly at Gareth. “So, this Flores.
Who is he, exactly?”
Gareth sighed. It was going to be a long night until the shift was over.
E ARLY THE NEXT MORNING , Gareth slipped into his apartment. Dom’s interrogation
hadn’t gone too badly; they’d been distracted by a couple of other calls, and Dom had
given it a rest.
Sunlight had slanted into the apartment, lighting up dust motes in the air. Gareth
sniffed at the faint peony scent hanging around. Then he stopped by the photo in the
hallway, touching his thumb to Derek’s face. Part of his coming-home routine.
“You really love him,” Flores said from Gareth’s bedroom doorway.
Gareth glanced up, his heart kicking. He hadn’t known if Flores would be awake.
“Yeah,” he said. Wasn’t sure how much to tell Flores about Derek. “Why, jealous?”
Flores turned pink. That made Gareth smile. Flores was cute. Not quite what Gareth
should be going for at his age, but... He’d been looking forward to seeing that face
again. “Have you made yourself at home?”
Flores squirmed. “I poked around. You left your credit cards with your laptop.”
Huh, Gareth hadn’t even thought about that. “You used them?”
“No!” Flores scowled. “I’m not some thief.”
“I believe you.” Gareth headed into his bedroom, subconsciously searching for the
chain he’d left on the nightstand. Then he remembered he’d stuck it in the living room,
because the bedroom was Flores’ at the moment.
Flores followed him to the couch, watching as Gareth pulled the chain over his head.
“You can’t wear that to work?”
“I prefer not to.”
“Is that your—your wedding ring?”
Gareth met his eyes. “Do you want the truth?”
Flores fidgeted. “Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“Then you don’t need it yet.” Gareth stepped over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. It
was stuffed full with fresh groceries; messy, but not overly so. “Did you get the things I
told you to?”
“I did.” Flores stopped next to Gareth, peering nervously into the fridge. “But I didn’t
know what kind of steak you wanted. They were out of Porterhouse. I figured you
wouldn’t want the cheap ones, but the expensive ones looked really pricey—”
Was he going to overthink every assignment Gareth gave him? His heart softening,
Gareth slipped his arm around Flores’ shoulders, pulling Flores against his chest. “It’s
for you. You didn’t have to worry so much about it.”
Flores sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh.”
“Congrats on the audition,” Gareth added, squeezing Flores’ shoulder. “I figured you’d
get the lead role. I’m proud.”
Flores froze against him. Then he whimpered, pressing his face against Gareth’s chest.
Through the thin cotton, Gareth felt dampness prickle his skin. “Hey, don’t cry. You’re
gonna make me feel bad.”
Flores shrugged, still hiding his face. “I just—It’s what Emil would say.”
Emil’s ghost lingered around Flores that much, huh? Almost as much as Derek’s did
with Gareth.
Gareth rubbed Flores’ narrow shoulders, breathing in that peony scent. “What about
your—” He figured out the answer before he finished the question, but it was too late to
stop. “What about your parents? What would they say?”
“They’d say I should’ve auditioned in Highton for something bigger,” Flores said
quietly. “They didn’t spend tens of thousands on Emil’s classes, only for me to fuck up
and stay here. I’m like the ugly vase you spent too much time making, but you’ve
invested too much in it to throw it away. At least, that’s what Dad told Mom.”
What the hell? Gareth’s chest tightened. Who pulled shit like that on their own child?
But that wasn’t what Flores needed to hear right now. So Gareth leaned away, brushing
the tears off Flores’ cheeks. “You did great,” Gareth murmured. “Have you had
breakfast?”
Flores shook his head.
“Good. I’m gonna make you breakfast to celebrate. Sit down.”

Flores frowned dubiously. “To celebrate?”
“Yes. You deserve it. Sit.”
“But you just got off from work!”
Gareth smiled wryly. “Doesn’t take long. Now, sit, or I’m gonna have to punish you.”
That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Flores stilled, interest flickering in
his eyes.
Gareth shook his head in exasperation, a smile creeping up his lips. “Any punishment
will be delayed. I need to grab some sleep after this. Sit, Flores. Or else.”
“But you’ll punish me soon after that?”
“I’ll punish you when it fits my schedule,” Gareth said. “Have you considered that sex
as a reward might be less painful?”
The cogs worked in Flores’ head. His eyes widened. Then he planted his ass at the
kitchen table so quickly, the chair skidded against the tile.
Gareth laughed. “You’re really something else, Flores Williams.”
Flores’ ears turned pink. “I’m just desperate,” he mumbled.
His self-awareness surprised Gareth. It didn’t stop the fondness unfurling in his chest,
though.
He pulled the steaks out of the fridge—Flores had bought a couple slices of T-bone,
which worked well enough for what Gareth intended. The steaks went into some soy
sauce to marinate, and while they waited, Gareth sliced up some onions and
mushrooms, tossing them into a pan.
“Shouldn’t I be cooking for you?” Flores asked. “I mean, I need to learn...”
Gareth raised an eyebrow. “I enjoy it.”
“But omegas are supposed to cook.”
Not so much in Flores’ family home, where his parents had hired a private chef.
“Where’d you get that idea?”
“On TV.”
Gareth shrugged. “You could if it’s something you enjoy. I could teach you.” Flores
perked up. “Tomorrow,” Gareth added. “I’m not up for teaching right now.”
Besides, he’d probably gotten Flores knocked up. Cooking was the least Gareth could
do to apologize. “You bought the morning after pills?”
Flores looked at the table, biting his lip. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong? You didn’t take them?”
Flores fidgeted. “Should I?”
“Your choice.”
“You didn’t seem to want me to.” Flores twisted his fingers together. “I don’t know.”
Yeah, Gareth was torn about it. It really was Flores’ choice, though. “Pregnancy isn’t
easy,” Gareth said, crossing the kitchen to cup Flores’ nape. “It’s not for everyone.”
Even that was difficult to voice, because Gareth remembered the nurses rushing into the
surgery room, the clamor of voices behind the doors. Something had gone wrong with
Derek’s abortion; he’d bled far too much. They’d saved him, but... Gareth couldn’t
shake the terror from that day.
If Flores went through with the pregnancy, if he wanted to carry a child of Gareth’s in
his belly... That made the beast in Gareth’s chest rumble with approval. I’m insane.
Flores leaned into Gareth’s touch, his eyelids fluttering shut. “I have time to think about
it?”
“Yeah,” Gareth said, his heart heavy. “You do. Just—Tell me when you’ve made your
decision.”
If anything happened to Flores because of Gareth’s selfish desires, Gareth knew he

wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
“I will,” Flores sighed, leaning closer. “You feel good.”
That made Gareth want to stay close. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? He stroked his fingers
through Flores’ soft hair, savoring Flores’ warmth. Flores was small and delicate against
him, and he kind of felt like Derek had. But Flores also felt like his own person.
Someone who needed Gareth in the here and now. Someone whose hopes and dreams
Gareth wanted to protect.
Gareth stroked his ear, then his jaw. Flores tipped his face into Gareth’s hand, and the
smallest smile graced his lips. Gareth held his breath. Did Flores even know he was
smiling?
Shouldn’t mention it. Let him smile a bit longer.

Gareth waited until Flores cracked his eyes open again. “The mushrooms are burning,”
Gareth said, releasing Flores reluctantly. He headed back to the stove to toss the
vegetables, pulling out a separate pan for the steaks. He started the steaks, too, and the
savory scent of frying meat filled the kitchen.
“Smells so good,” Flores murmured right behind Gareth. Then his thin arms slipped
around Gareth’s waist, and he leaned hesitantly into Gareth’s back.
Gareth’s heart skipped a beat. He stopped breathing. What’re you doing, Flower?
Flores pulled away. “Should I stop?”
Gareth felt the warmth of his ring against his chest. He looked at Flores’ gently-curled
fingers hesitating against his waist.
“No,” he said, even as he hated himself for it. Flores’ presence felt good.
Flores leaned back against him with a sigh. For a brief moment, Gareth imagined it was
Derek leaning against him. They were almost the same height, and Derek had been thin,
too. Gareth wondered if, had things been different and they’d had a last moment
together, whether their goodbye would have felt like this.
Then he pushed the thought and heartache away, and curled his fingers around Flores’
slender forearm. Flores was real. He was here, and he was a distraction. But he was a
good distraction.
“You like steak?” Gareth asked.
“Mm-hm,” Flores said into his back.
“Ever had it marinated with soy sauce?”
Flores shook his head. “But I like soy sauce, so I’ll probably like it, too.”
“That’s good.” Gareth traced his thumb down Flores’ forearm. Just savored Flores’
trust, Flores leaning against him.
Later, when the steak was done and he’d plated the food, he waited for Flores to take
the first bite. Flores sliced through the meat and popped a cube in his mouth, his eyelids
fluttering shut. “Mmm.”
“You like?”
Flores’ only answer was a groan as he chewed and swallowed, his eyes still closed. “If
there’s a heaven, it would be steak like this all day, every day.”
Gareth grinned, biting into a slice of his own steak. The tang of salt and beef burst
across his tongue, rich and meaty. It was good, but not quite as good as watching Flores
eat the next cube of meat, then the next, his gaze alight with wonder.
Gareth liked that he could make Flores this happy, just by cooking for him. It made his
chest inexplicably warm.
Flores’ plate was empty before Gareth even finished half his food. Then he rubbed his
belly and eyed Gareth’s steak, even as he said, “I’m too full to eat another bite.”
When had he last eaten an actual meal? Gareth hated that thought. So he said, “I’ll
make more food later. You won’t starve while you’re here.”
Flores brightened, then sagged. “It’s also going on the tab?”
Gods, the tab. Screw that thing. “Nah. I’ll forgive your debt.”
Flores’ eyes went round. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. But only if you keep your job.”
“I promise to,” Flores said, his breath hitching. He leaped off his chair, almost bouncing
around the table to throw his arms around Gareth. “Thank you.”
Flores was all awkward limbs and peony scents, and two weeks ago, Gareth would’ve
minded having Flores in his personal space. Right now, all he wanted to do was smile.
“That’s my good deed of the day,” Gareth said dryly. “Down, boy.”
Flores pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his eyes sparkling. Somehow, Gareth
wished Flores’ aim had been off a little. Mouth-to-mouth kisses were nice, too.
“I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Flores breathed. “I swear.”
“Not in bed,” Gareth said.
Flores’ cheer slipped by a fraction. Then he recovered. “Okay. Deal.”
It felt like something else had changed between them. Gareth didn’t know what it was.
But the way Flores was all but smiling right now... It was worth it.
I T WAS WEIRD , living with Gareth. Flores had lived with his parents, and he’d lived by
himself. But living with Gareth was... intense.
In the mornings, Gareth woke at six. He went out for a jog, returned to shower, and
then made breakfast. Then he’d clean up around the apartment, and knock on Flores’
door. Flores jumped every time.
On the third day, Flores’ stomach growled. He’d been distracted going over the ballet
choreography video and had forgotten to sneak in breakfast while Gareth was out. And
now Gareth was cooking, a delicious aroma wafting through the apartment. Sausage,
maybe?
Flores crept out of his room, tiptoeing to the kitchen. Gareth was humming to himself. It
was... human of him. Unguarded. And Flores liked him a little bit more. He inched
closer, peeking around the fridge to try and figure out what song it was. It sounded like
some oldie his parents listened to.
He bumped into a faded fire truck magnet. The magnet dislodged and clattered onto
the floor, and Flores stopped breathing. Gareth’s going to yell at me. Dad would.
Gareth turned, looking right at Flores. Instead of berating him for the magnet, Gareth
nodded toward the stove. “I’m making some breakfast. You gonna join me today?”
The worry in Flores’ chest eased. He glanced dubiously at the pan. “Will there be
enough food?”
“Yeah. I made enough for two.” On his days off, Gareth had been making Flores dinner,
too.
Flores blushed, replacing the magnet on the fridge. “You didn’t have to.”
Gareth huffed. “I told you, didn’t I? You won’t go hungry while you’re living with me.”
That still seemed too good to be true. And all good things always came to an end, so
this... would end when Gareth decided to kick Flores out. But that day wasn’t today, so
Flores crept closer. “What’re you making?”
“Sausage, and diced potatoes with steak seasoning.” Gareth flicked the pan, sending a
wave of tiny cubes sizzling through the air. Miraculously, they all landed back in the
pan.
“You make that look so easy,” Flores said through his drool. He wanted the potatoes,
maybe. But more than that, he wanted to see Gareth flip the potatoes again.
Gareth raised his eyebrows. “Wanna try flipping them?”
“Knowing me, they’ll end up all over the floor.”
Gareth grinned—it looked illegally handsome on him. “Don’t know until you try. Here.
Hold the pan.”
Flores wouldn’t have. But Gareth was looking at him, and Flores... didn’t want to
disappoint this man. So he tried picking up the pan. It was heavy. He had to use both his
hands to lift that thing. The potatoes slid around, and Flores held his breath. He flicked
the pan like Gareth had done.
The potatoes slid lethargically to the far end, and didn’t go further.
“Flip it harder,” Gareth said.
It was a lot of potatoes. Gareth had probably spent a lot of time dicing them. “If they
end up on the floor, I’ll just have wasted all your time.”
Gareth huffed. “Nah.” But he stepped closer, his chest brushing Flores’ back. Flores
stopped breathing. Gareth wrapped his arms around Flores, cupping Flores’ hands in
his own. The pan was suddenly so much lighter. Gareth’s hands were large and warm,
gentle, and Flores’ heart tripped.
Being held felt so nice. It almost felt like Flores had a safe place to return to.
“You toss them like this,” Gareth murmured in his ear. He lifted the pan easily, shoved
it forward, and flicked it up. The potatoes rose into the air; Gareth tugged the pan back,
catching them all like he was the Pied Piper of Potatoes.
“I can’t do that,” Flores said, gaping. “The pan’s too heavy.”
Gareth hummed. “Fair point. Maybe a smaller pan for you?”
He flipped the potatoes again, his body wrapped around Flores, his breath feathering
against Flores’ cheek. Then he set the pan down, and took a half-step back.
“No,” Flores yelped, turning.
Gareth paused. “No?”
“Um.” It wouldn’t do to say I want you standing closer. “Um, show me that again.”
Gareth chuckled. “They have to cook for a while, too, you know.”
Flores fidgeted. No, he still wasn’t used to this new Gareth. It had been days—Gareth
hadn’t reverted to scowling yet. Flores had never even thought Gareth Brown would
stand behind him and hold his hands, showing him how to cook. “I just...”
“Why’re you frowning?” Gareth touched his fingertips to Flores’ forehead, nudging at
the bunched muscles there.
Flores shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything.”
Gareth took another step back, taking his warmth with him. “Everything? Tell me.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Flores asked.
Gareth winced. “I’m making up for being a jerk.”
“Is this about the condom?”
“Well, that too. And the paintings.” Gareth rubbed his face, sighing heavily. “I judged
you for three whole months, Flores. I just... I feel bad about it. You didn’t need me
fucking with you, too.”
“I need you fucking me,” Flores mumbled.
Gareth shot him a narrowed-eye look. “We aren’t talking about that right now.”
With all his routines, Gareth even had a set time for jerking off. Last night, Flores had
tiptoed to Gareth’s bedroom door to test his theory. He’d waited three minutes. At
exactly 10:05, Gareth’s groan had rung out through the room. Flores’ body had flushed
with heat.
He’d stayed by the door, getting off to Gareth getting off. Then Flores had sneaked back
into bed, before Gareth could catch him at it.
“You said sex would be a reward, but you haven’t rewarded me yet,” Flores mumbled.
Gareth swallowed. “It’ll be a reward for a big thing.”
“What kind of big thing?” Flores glanced at Gareth’s hips.
Gareth sighed, turning Flores back to face the stove. “Not that.”
“Feels like you’re stalling,” Flores blurted.
To his surprise, Gareth agreed. “Yeah. That, too. I don’t want this to turn into all-out
fucking.”
“Why not?” Because all-out fucking sounded pretty damn awesome.

“Because you need to attend your rehearsals,” Gareth said pointedly. “And you aren’t
gonna be able to dance if you can’t walk.”
Flores’ entire head burned. Oh. “Will it help if I give you my rehearsal schedule? So,
um. So you can plan ahead.”
Was this how people flirted? The movies he’d watched said, No. Flores squirmed.
“Maybe.” Gareth’s eyes darkened. He really did want Flores. He wasn’t just doing this
to apologize. Flores gulped, his heart pattering. Gareth glanced back at the stove. “But
right now, we’re having breakfast.”
“Teach me to flip the potatoes again,” Flores said.
Gareth considered him. He must’ve figured Flores was desperate or something, because
he stepped closer, nodding at the pan. “Hold it.”
Flores grasped the pan handle. Like he’d done before, Gareth closed his hands around
Flores’, and flipped the potatoes with him. Shove, flick, tug. Shove, flick, tug.
“It feels like you’re teaching me how to jerk you off,” Flores said.
Gareth set the pan down hard, breaking into a coughing fit. “The fuck?”
“Is that how you get off?” Flores whispered. “That’s why you’re so good at it?”
Gareth was still coughing. His face had turned red, and Flores was unbelievably proud
of himself. He really did like seeing Gareth flustered. Gareth was cute that way.
Gareth caught his breath, giving Flores a stink eye. Flores was floating too high to be
affected. He gave a small wriggle, dancing on the spot. “I got you that time!”
Gareth growled. Then he crowded Flores against the counter, until their hips brushed
and their faces were inches apart. Flores froze mid-dance, his pulse ratcheting up.
“Do that again,” Gareth breathed. “And I’ll—”
“Punish me?” Flores looked hopefully at him. Maybe a punishment would come sooner
than a reward. Maybe Flores wouldn’t even mind hurting a little.
“No.” Gareth narrowed his eyes. “I’ll decide later.”
Flores tried not to pout. He really did. “You didn’t answer my question. Is that how you
get off? The same way you flip potatoes? Which did you learn first—”
Gareth cracked his palm against Flores’ thigh. Flores gasped, his nerves lighting up.
“You’re in my home,” Gareth growled, his gaze burning into Flores. “If I tell you to
stop, you stop.”
A secret thrill shot all the way down Flores’ spine. “You sound like a military
commander,” Flores breathed. “Does that get you off? Should I call you Sir?”
Flores didn’t know where that came from. But the moment those words left his lips,
Gareth’s eyes burned like banked coals.
“Sir,” Flores said softly. “Can I help you jerk off?”
Gareth sucked in a sharp breath, his bulge pressing against Flores’ belly. “No,” Gareth
rasped, tearing himself away. But he was definitely interested. And if he wanted to
order Flores around in the bedroom, well. Flores wouldn’t say no.
“Breakfast,” Gareth said instead. He pointed at the kitchen table. “Sit.”
Flores sat, only because his stomach was starting to growl again. “Will I get to taste
your sausage?”
Gareth scowled. Flores wriggled in his seat. It was a legitimate question. Then Gareth
set the plates down so hard, Flores was surprised they didn’t shatter.
Gareth had left the sausage whole on Flores’ plate. Flores bit his lip hard, looking up at
Gareth. Gareth stared back, his gaze so hot, it felt like Flores’ clothes might burn right
off.
Flores waited until Gareth sat across from him. Then he ignored his fork, and grasped
the still-hot sausage in his hand.
“The fuck are you—”
Flores sucked one end of the sausage into his mouth. It wasn’t big like Gareth’s cock
was, but it was heavy, and clunky inside him. Flores worked his lips down its length,
trying to slide his tongue around it. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, showing Gareth just
how much he wasn’t good at sucking dick.
Gareth reached over and grasped Flores’ hand, his gaze locking onto Flores. “Don’t
fucking choke yourself on that thing.”
“I’m practicing,” Flores said around the meat. His words came out muffled, and he
drooled a little. “I don’t wanna choke on you.”
“Fuck.” Gareth scowled. Then, still holding Flores’ hand, he pulled the sausage out of
Flores’ mouth. “Take a bite, damn it. Stop giving it head.”
Flores stuck his tongue out, licking its tip.
Gareth sucked in a slow, shuddering breath, looking like he might explode. His hand
tightened around Flores’. But just a little; not painfully so. Even if he was on the verge
of losing control. Flores liked being with him. He felt safe with Gareth. He felt... wanted.
So he met Gareth’s eyes, leaned in, and closed his lips around the sausage.
“Damn you,” Gareth hissed, musk rolling off his skin.
“Does this mean you’ll punish me?” Flores asked hopefully.
“Maybe your punishment won’t involve sex,” Gareth said.
That made Flores stop immediately. Gareth snorted. He released Flores’ hand and
looked pointedly at him. “Now are you gonna eat? So I can drop you off at the theater,
and get on with my day.”
Guilt spiked through Flores’ chest. He didn’t like occupying Gareth’s time more than he
had to; he didn’t like being a nuisance at all. Especially when he was liking Gareth more
and more, and Gareth wouldn’t stick around for things that weren’t sex.
His heart sinking, Flores took a bite of the sausage. “Okay.”
“Shit, I didn’t mean that,” Gareth said.
Confused, Flores looked up. Gareth cracked a kinder smile at him. “Eat up,” Gareth
said. “Didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Feeling a little better, Flores popped a cube of savory fried potato into his mouth.
“Okay.” Then he remembered Gareth’s earlier reaction, and amended his words. “Yes,
sir.”
Judging by the way Gareth’s gaze darkened, Flores knew he’d just said the right thing.
S IR . It was just one word. But Gareth couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop
hearing Flores’ voice in his head. Please, sir. Thank you, sir. Please fuck me, sir.
It had spiraled out of his control. For the past few nights, that had been all Gareth had
jerked off to. Flores had stopped trying so hard to seduce him. He’d stopped talking
about sex, he’d stopped wriggling that pert ass of his at Gareth.
Instead, Flores had slipped in Yes, sir and Good morning, sir and Thank you for the ride, sir
into their everyday greetings. That little word had burrowed under his skin, going
straight between Gareth’s legs and into his cock.
Gareth hadn’t been able to keep his mind from wandering. Would Flores really give
him that much power? Would Flores want to obey his every command in the bedroom?
Did he know what he was getting himself into?
Gareth had never done any sort of power play before. But the first time Flores had said
that word, Gareth’s cock had almost ripped right through his pants. And if that wasn’t
dangerous, he didn’t know what was.
He scrubbed the come off his hands, rinsed them, and dried off on a towel. Gareth
pulled on his exercise slacks to hide his growing knot, then stepped out of his bedroom.
Flores was on the living room couch, fiddling with a marbled purple swan. Over the
past few days, he’d turned a heavy block of soap into a carving. Gareth didn’t know
how he’d done it. But it seemed that his boy was nothing short of talented; Gareth
wanted to discover what other surprises he had.
“Ready to go?” Gareth asked.
Flores drew his scalpel along the swan’s wings, carving out a thin strip of soap. “I think
so. I could do more, but I don’t think my mom will notice.”
“She’ll like that,” Gareth said. “It’s pretty damn amazing.”
Flores blushed. “I wish. She doesn’t really like my art. I can’t afford jewelry or purses
for her birthday. She doesn’t like the fake leather sort. And I just... really rather not use
their money.”
Every time Flores talked about his parents, Gareth wanted to punch someone’s lights
out. “You really want to give her something, huh?”
Flores nodded earnestly. “Yeah. You can’t not give someone something for their
birthday. It’s just not right. Besides, she’s my mom.”
He said those last words quietly, his shoulders sagging. How many times had Flores
tried giving his mother something he’d made, only for her to turn him down? Anger
grating in his chest, Gareth handed Flores the homemade gift box he’d left on the
kitchen table. “Even if she doesn’t like it, I do.”
Flores shrugged. He set the swan gently into the box, then followed Gareth out of the
apartment. “On the way back, can we stop by Licorice Street? At—At my mural. Just for
a while.”
He still looked bashful about it. Gareth’s heart softened. He reached over, cupping
Flores’ nape. “Yeah, sure. We’ll stop by.”
Flores leaned into Gareth’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He smelled like peony and a
trace of sweat, and beneath those scents, there was the faintest hint of honey. Gareth’s
heart thumped.
He’s carrying my baby.
Flores’ heat had faded quickly after that eventful night. Gareth had had his suspicions,
but this just confirmed it. “Is your mom gonna mind that you’re pregnant?”
Hazel eyes widened; Flores paled, wobbling on his feet. “I-I am?”
“Yeah.” Gareth filled his lungs with Flores’ scent. He definitely smelled like honey.
“Sorry. You know I’ll do anything to help.”
Flores whimpered, looking down at his belly. It was flat; it wouldn’t show until he was
a couple months along. Gareth held Flores’ hand, his stomach twisting at Flores’
distraught expression.
“Mom said I’d be disowned if I get pregnant,” Flores said in a small voice.
Fuck. Gareth bit down his swearing, pulling Flores back into the apartment. “Then we’ll
cover it up for now. Give you a bit more time to make your decision.”
Flores shook all over. Gareth wanted to kick himself. It was his fault for getting Flores
into this mess. He grabbed the scent suppressant, spritzing it all over Flores’ clothes.
The suppressant would mask both the honey scent and Flores’ peony scent, leaving a
void—Gareth badly wanted to fill it in with his own marking. But that would be far too
incriminating, so he refrained.
“There,” Gareth murmured, kneading Flores’ nape. “She can’t smell it on you now.”
Flores still trembled, panic in his eyes. “I’m pregnant.” He touched his abdomen
disbelievingly, whimpering. “I don’t... I don’t know what to do.”
Gareth hated that he’d made Flores feel this way. So he cupped Flores’ jaw, pressing a
kiss to his forehead. “I’m here,” he whispered. “You’ll be fine.”
Then he dropped kisses all over Flores’ face—his eyebrows, his cheeks, his nose. And,
after a moment’s hesitation, Gareth kissed Flores on the lips. Somehow, that felt right,
too.
Flores gasped, his eyes growing wide.
“I’m your sir, aren’t I?” Gareth murmured. “I’m gonna make sure things go fine.
Okay?”
They weren’t quite an alpha-omega pair. That involved feelings, and Gareth couldn’t
commit. But protecting Flores—Gareth could do that.
He kissed Flores’ mouth again. And again, when it seemed to calm Flores down.
Slowly, Flores began to return the kisses, leaning closer, his trembling fading away.
Gareth’s worries faded along with Flores’.
“Better now?” Gareth murmured against his lips.
Flores nodded and leaned into Gareth’s chest, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Thank you.”
Gareth hugged him close, stroking his back. “Ready to get out there and get stuff
done?”
Flores nodded again. So Gareth tugged him out of the apartment for real this time.
Flores laced their fingers together, huddling against Gareth’s side.
It felt good, being able to calm Flores down. Knowing that Flores trusted Gareth enough
to stop panicking.
On the way out of the building, they bumped into York and Perry, and their two kids.
Caleb waved and giggled. “Hello, Uncle Carrot!”
“Hey, kid.” Gareth ruffled Caleb’s hair, nodding at his neighbors.
Caleb beamed. “We’re going to the zoo this weekend! Papa says I can pet a snake!”
Perry pinched the bridge of his nose. York looked sheepish. “Well, yeah,” York said.
“They have a petting zoo.”
“If he gets into trouble in school because of snakes, you’ll be the one talking to his
teachers,” Perry told York.
“Sure I will,” York said. Then he gave Gareth a pointed look; Flores had all but
wrapped himself around Gareth’s arm. When they showed up for duty in two days,
York was bound to have questions. Gareth didn’t care.
“Say hi to your snake for me,” Caleb said before they parted ways. Perry groaned.
“Uncle Carrot?” Flores asked as they got into Gareth’s car. His lips twitched up ever so
slightly.
“Close enough,” Gareth said. “He knows my name, I’m good.”
“Does that mean I get to call you Sir Carrot?” Flores smiled a little wider.
“If you want to imagine a carrot fucking you through the bed, then yeah, I guess you
could.”
Flores’ eyes bugged out. “You will?” he breathed.
Gareth sent him a hot look. “I didn’t say I won’t. I just haven’t decided on when.”
Flores cheered up a little, cradling his gift box in his hand. “Sir Carrot,” he mumbled
beneath his breath.
Gods, stop being so adorable. Gareth almost resented Flores, because Flores made him
want to lean over, and kiss those lips again.
“I heard that,” he said instead. He almost called Flores Flower, but he refrained. Just
rolled the nickname across his tongue, wondering if Flores would ever let him use it
again.
They made it to the wealthier side of Meadowfall, where mansions sprawled behind tall
iron gates. Flores stiffened when the gates to his parents’ mansion opened. He’d spent
twenty years of his life here; Gareth wasn’t keen on bringing him back.
Ever so slowly, the tension in Flores’ shoulders faded. Gareth watched him from the
corner of his eye. Flores wasn’t eager to return home. He was pulling on a mask, Gareth
realized, like he did for a performance.
Flores pretended not to care, only because he cared too much.
Something in Gareth’s chest ached for him. Flores didn’t deserve the neglect he’d
grown up with. He deserved care and affection—plenty of it. Can’t believe I didn’t see it
earlier.
Gareth reached over, squeezing Flores’ hand. Flores glanced up in surprise.
“You’ll be fine,” Gareth said. “There’ll be a reward when we get home. After your
rehearsal.”
The tiniest smile flickered across Flores’ lips. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
That made Flores glow from inside, a warm sparkle filling his eyes. He was beautiful.
And Gareth didn’t want to look away.
They parked next to the short front steps of the mansion, Flores ringing the doorbell. A
servant answered the door, surprise darting through his ageing features when he
caught sight of Flores.
“Hello, Robert. It’s my mom’s birthday,” Flores said, lifting his gift box. “I just wanted
to say hi. Is she in?”
“She is,” Robert said. “I’ll inform her of your visit. Good morning, Mr. Brown.”
Gareth followed them through the marble foyer into the elegant sitting room—all velvet
chaises and lush carpets. Kind of like a hotel’s reception area; rich, classy, but it wasn’t
homey at all.
Robert left, and Flores stepped closer to Gareth, fidgeting. “This will just take a while,”
Flores said. “I’m sorry about wasting your time.”
“You aren’t wasting my time,” Gareth growled. “Don’t even think that way.”
Flores bowed his head, holding his box in front of himself. He stood so still that Gareth
realized Flores was still performing—except he was holding position, like he did just
before his dancing began. It was as though... he didn’t dare move around in this place.
We’ve trained him to be quiet, Tim Williams had told Gareth once. It’s so nice when the
house is silent.
You did that by breaking his finger. Gareth wanted to punch Tim all the way into hell. It
wouldn’t change Flores’ past, though, nor the scars he still bore today.
He reached out to touch Flores’ hand, just to reassure him. Except Rissa Williams swept
into the sitting room. CEO of Goodwill Family Insurance, an awful shark when it came
to her employees, and an absolute workaholic.
“Flores,” she said coolly, stopping a couple yards away. She was poised, aloof, and
entirely blasé about their presence. “I hope he hasn’t been giving you too much trouble,
Gareth. The PI mentioned that he’s been over at your place.”
“He’s been—” a good boy wasn’t what Rissa deserved to hear “—a very welcome guest.”
Flores glanced over, surprise flickering through his eyes.
“Oh?” Rissa frowned. “How curious. Have you come to wish me a happy birthday,
Flores?”
“Yes,” Flores said quickly, hurrying forward. “I—I made you something, Mom. Happy
birthday.” He presented her with the cardboard box. It was a sturdy thing, made with
two layers of cardboard glued together, tied shut with twine. Hope glimmered in
Flores’ eyes. “I swear I’ll have a better gift next year. I’ve just started rehearsing with
the theater—”
“The Meadowfall Theater Company?” Rissa lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “Their

standards have plummeted in recent years.”
Flores drooped, all of the wind gone from his sails. The look in his eyes said, I knew this
would happen.
A ferocious, snarling anger rose up in Gareth’s chest. He suppressed it; it wasn’t the
right time or place.
“I hope you like what I made you,” Flores mumbled.
Rissa discarded the twine, pulling open the box. Her curiosity fell away, only to be
replaced by disappointment. “What is this?” She lifted the marbled swan out of the box,
turning it around.
“I carved it out of soap,” Flores said. “It’s infused with eucalyptus oil and lavender—”
“I’ve just developed an aversion to eucalyptus,” Rissa said, dropping the swan into its
box like she’d been burnt. “Thank you, Flores.”
Flores’ gaze fell along with the swan, and his mask cracked, just a little. Gareth’s heart
hurt for him.
“Can I have a hug?” Flores asked.
“No.” Rissa turned away. “Hugs are for clients. I appreciate your visit.” She set Flores’
cardboard box on a side table, nodding at Gareth. “Good day, Gareth. I apologize for
the burden. Tim and I are working on a solution to turn Flores into an asset. You
shouldn’t have to deal with him for too much longer.”
What the fuck? An asset?
Before Gareth could speak, she left the room. There wasn’t any point pursuing the topic
right now. Swearing the vilest curses under his breath, Gareth stalked over to the side
table and grabbed the box. Flores blinked hard, his eyes wet. How had he put up with
that crap for so many years?
“I don’t want to be a burden,” Flores mumbled. Gareth wanted to take him away and
never return.
“We’re going home,” Gareth growled. “There’s other places where you’ll be wanted.”
“Where?” Flores bit his lip, a tear rolling down his cheek. He really didn’t know.
“I’ll show you.” Gareth shoved down the injustice in his chest. He shoved down the
anger—both at Rissa and Tim, and at himself. He should’ve known this would happen.
He should’ve rescued Flores somehow. Far earlier than this. Years back, before his
parents had done this to him.
Gareth all but dragged Flores out of the mansion, and into his car. Then he drove past
the iron gates, and he didn’t stop driving until he pulled up to Licorice Street, where
Flores’ mural still was.
Flores wobbled out of the car. Gareth rounded the hood. Then he pulled Flores into a
tight hug, holding him so close, maybe their bodies would fuse together. And it would
be okay.
Flores shook against him. Then he buried his face against Gareth’s chest, and Gareth
held him as he cried.
“You’re wanted here,” Gareth murmured in his ear. “You aren’t a burden here.” He
took Flores’ hand, pressing it over his heart.
Flores clung to him, tucking his head under Gareth’s chin, just trembling. Gareth
wanted to protect him. He wanted to see Flores smile, he wanted to hear Flores laugh.
He wanted to hold Flores close, he wanted his boy near him, because when he had
Flores, Gareth felt like he could finally breathe again.
So holding Flores, kissing him, making him smile—it was all worth it.
At length, he shuffled Flores over into the alley, where the mural was. Flores blinked
blearily up at Gareth, looking apologetic. “Sorry. That was stupid. I didn’t mean to bawl
all over you—”
“Don’t even apologize for that.” Gareth narrowed his eyes. He wiped the tears off
Flores’ cheeks. “You should’ve gotten better parents than that. Parents who don’t treat
you like crap.”
Flores blinked, trying to understand. “Oh.”
“I’m just saying that you’ll be happier elsewhere,” Gareth said, pressing a kiss to Flores’
temple. That felt right, too.
Flores leaned against him, just breathing. Gareth stroked his nape. With Flores in his
arms, he felt at peace with the world. Flores was small and broken, but also so strong.
Stronger than Gareth, with how much he’d had to put up with.
“We don’t have much time until your rehearsal starts,” Gareth murmured. “What did
you want to do here?”
Flores snuffled. “Oh!”
He scrubbed his face dry, pulling out his phone. Then he hurried to the mural, which
was lit with diffused sunlight now that it wasn’t 2AM.
“I love the way you painted the lanterns,” Gareth said. “That part’s my favorite. What’s
yours?”
Flores flushed a bright red. He sneaked a look at Gareth. “You really like this.”
Gareth gave a wry smile. “This changed all my opinions of you.”
Flores blushed harder, focusing on his phone. He pressed his back against the other
alley wall, pulling his phone as far away from the mural as he could. Then, he took
several pictures of the mural this way and that.
While Flores fiddled with his phone, Gareth admired the painting again. “How long did
it take you to paint this?”
“Three weeks, I think.” Flores tapped on his phone, his fingers flying over the screen.
Then he looked up. “We need to get going, right?”
“Yup.” Gareth peeked at Flores’ screen. “You’ve already posted it on Instagram?”
Flores blinked. “You know what Instagram is?”

Gareth smacked his ass. “I’m not that old!”
“Ow! But you even recognized the app.” Flores bit his lip, his mouth threatening to
curve into a smile. “I thought... it was a young-people thing.”
And that brat darted off before Gareth could spank him again.
“Flores Williams,” Gareth growled, lengthening his strides to catch him.
A low, rough sound emerged from Flores’ throat. Was that a laugh? Flores darted away.
“You’ll have to be faster, old man.”
The nerve of that little... Gareth sped up into a sprint, but Flores was fast. Those muscles
on his legs weren’t for show.
Flores darted out of the alley and across the sidewalk, hopping from one foot to the
other next to Gareth’s car. Gareth caught up with him, except Flores danced out of his
reach. “We need to go,” Flores yelped. “Or I’ll be late!”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “Not until you get back here and receive your punishment.”
Flores’ eyes grew round. He glanced around them. “You can’t possibly mean...”
Gareth pulled the passenger door open, nodding toward the car. “Keep your pants on.”
Flores blushed a sweet fire truck red. Now he wanted to be shy. Gareth’s heart swelled.
“Yes, sir,” Flores murmured.
Fuck. And now Gareth’s cock threatened to spear through his slacks. Flores bent over,
bracing himself against the car seat. His pants clung to his tight, inviting ass. Gareth
wanted to see his cheeks bare, he wanted to see Flores’ skin turn pink from spanking.
There were a few passers-by around, so Gareth gave him three quick cracks on the ass.
It felt good, disciplining Flores in public. Marking Flores as his own.
“What’re you being punished for?” Gareth growled.
“For calling you a wrinkly old man?” Flores bit his lip, his eyes sparkling.
Gareth couldn’t resist spanking him again. Hearing the crack of his palm, feeling the
way Flores’ ass yielded under his touch.
“Brat. Say ‘I won’t do that again.’”
Flores grinned. “I won’t do that again.”
Like hell he wouldn’t.

Gareth struck him a last time, hard enough that Flores yelped. His ass had to be pink by
now. Gareth squeezed Flores’ stinging bottom, patting it. “That’ll be all for now. Get
in.”
“Yes, sir,” Flores said again, scrambling into the car.
Gareth shut the door after him. His cock throbbed. This sir thing was driving him
insane. Punishing Flores, having Flores call him sir. And Flores just thrived when Gareth
gave him attention.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, glancing at Flores’ pink face. “Text me the link to your
Instagram account. I want to see the pictures.”
Flores met his eyes. Then he glanced at Gareth’s hips, and his mouth twitched again.
“Yes, sir.”
Gareth’s cock ached. Damn that boy. He wanted to pin Flores, he wanted to spank him,
he wanted to kiss Flores breathless, until all Flores knew was Gareth. And then he
wanted to pleasure Flores and hold him, and tease him until he smiled again.
Something’s wrong with me.
Gareth scowled, turning the car onto the street. “Stop making eyes at me. Text me the
link.”
“You’re so demanding,” Flores said, but he was wriggling in his seat, his fingers flying
across his phone. Gareth’s phone buzzed. “There. I sent it.”
“Good boy.”
Flores smiled even wider. After that scene at the mansion, Gareth wanted to see him
like this all the time—playful and filled with joy. “But I’m your good boy, right? No one
else’s?”
Was Flores asking if... they were being exclusive? Gareth chewed on his tongue. It
wasn’t like he wanted to see any other omega. So he said, “Sure.”
Flores smiled to himself, delight spreading through his face. Gareth’s heart missed a
beat.
At the theater, Flores unbuckled his seatbelt, opening the door.
“Boy,” Gareth said.
Flores turned, perking up. “Yes?”

“What your mom said about the theater company—that’s bullshit. It’s gonna be a great
show ‘cuz you’re in it.”
Flores brightened, and Gareth knew he’d done the right thing.
“Work hard,” Gareth added. “I’ll pick you up later.”
Flores’ smile turned mellow, all warm and soft. Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to
Gareth’s mouth. “Will do. Thank you for today, sir.”
He pulled away and shut the car door, waving before he disappeared into the building.
Gareth’s lips tingled for a long while after that.

F LORES ’ heart skipped as he waited for Gareth to appear. All through the rehearsal,
he’d been distracted.
He was pregnant. Gareth had kissed him so many times. And then he’d said all the
things that had made Flores’ heart stop. Things like I’m your sir and You’re wanted here
and You’re not a burden.
For a large part of his life, Flores hadn’t had that sort of support. He’d just had his
parents’ disapproval, he’d had various pitying homeschool tutors, and then he’d had
Emil. And Emil had died. After that, Flores had sought encouragement from his online
friends, he’d had some compliments on his work.
But no one had said those little things in his ear, no one had held him tight. No one had
kissed him like he mattered, not until Gareth.
Flores blushed, searching the parking lot. He craved Gareth’s touch. He wanted to hear
Gareth’s voice again. Gareth had made a promise—You’ll get your reward tonight. It had
cheered Flores up a great deal, and somehow, his face had ached after the rehearsal.
Great job with the smiling, Selena had told him. Flores hadn’t even been aware that he
was.
Gareth’s car turned into the lot just as thunder rumbled in the distance. Flores’ heart
kicked. He hurried to the side of the road, his facial muscles aching again. Was he
smiling?
The silver SUV pulled to a stop, and the passenger door popped open. There was
movement in the backseat, though. A bespectacled boy. And a cradle next to him. Flores
checked the driver’s identity—it was Gareth.
Uncertain now, he climbed into the car. “Is this... practice?” Because I’m pregnant?
Gareth’s smile slipped. Then he broke into a laugh. “No. I’m on childcare duty tonight.
York and Perry have something to see to.” Gareth rolled his eyes. “More like an
emergency date night. I asked York if his honey wasn’t enough. He said it was.”
Flores didn’t understand the honey thing, but he was distracted by the bundle of energy
in the backseat.
“Is that Uncle Flower?” Caleb asked, craning his neck.

Flores cringed. How had Caleb stumbled upon that nickname?
Gareth met Flores’ eyes. Then he said, “His name’s Flores, Caleb. Uncle Flores.”
Flores’ breath snagged in his throat. He’d asked Gareth to stop using that nickname,
half-expecting Gareth to blow him off. Except Gareth had acquiesced. And now Gareth
was teaching Caleb not to use it, too. Flores didn’t have words for the gratitude welling
up in his chest. “I...”
Gareth reached over, touching Flores’ chin. “How’s my boy?”
Flores’ face grew hot. I’m yours? “I-I’m fine. Selena said I was smiling today.”
“Yeah?” Gareth didn’t look surprised. Instead, he looked proud. “Feeling better?”
“I-I guess.” Flores bit his lip, embarrassed. “Mostly it’s because you promised to give
me a reward.”
“That made you smile, huh?” Gareth rumbled. He stroked his knuckles along Flores’
jaw, his gaze warm. Flores’ heart almost pounded out of his chest.
“Are you boyfriends?” Caleb asked, peering at them through his round glasses. “Papa
said you like Uncle Flores a lot.”
Gareth froze, glancing at Caleb. Then he met Flores’ eyes, and Flores spied the flush
creeping up Gareth’s neck.
“You like me?” Flores blurted. Gareth had held him and kissed him, but this... It was a
heart-stopping revelation. Was Flores really not a burden to Gareth?
For the longest moment, Gareth had nothing to say. Except he was still stroking Flores’
jaw, a smile playing on his lips. “I guess I do,” Gareth murmured, brushing his thumb
just beneath Flores’ lips. “Why else would you be my boy?”
That settled something deep in Flores’ chest. I’m Gareth’s boy. It felt good.
“So you’re boyfriends,” Caleb said.
“Sort of,” Gareth answered. “It’s complicated.”
No, it wasn’t really. Gareth had offered protection, and Flores had accepted. Flores
would do whatever Gareth wanted in exchange. Gareth didn’t have to know how hard
he made Flores’ heart thump, though.
Flores was so caught up in his thoughts, that he didn’t notice them pulling into the
apartment parking lot until Gareth cut the engine. Fat raindrops pattered against the
windshield. Dark clouds loomed above, blocking out the evening sky.
“It’s raining!” Caleb bounced in his car seat.
“It is,” Gareth said. “But just a little. It’ll start pouring soon.”
“Can I play in the rain?” Caleb asked.
Gareth laughed. “Nope. Sorry, kid. I don’t want to get into trouble with your dads.”
Flores peered out the window. He’d played in the rain, once, but that had been a long
time ago, when he’d sneaked out of the mansion. The servants had caught him, and
Dad had starved Flores for two whole meals. Flores had been so hungry that he’d never
done it again. “What about me? Can I?”
Gareth’s gaze darkened. “Are you asking for my permission?”
Flores nodded awkwardly, his cheeks warming. Gareth might say no. Would Flores
disobey him then? He probably would. But would Gareth follow him into the rain?
It was a thing in movies, when characters kissed in a downpour. And suddenly Flores
really, really wanted to know what that felt like.
Gareth studied him. “You may, just for a couple of minutes.”
Flores’ heart skipped. “Is that enough for me to get wet?” He peeked through the
windows, savoring the staccato of raindrops on the car roof.
“It’ll rain heavy enough to soak you soon,” Gareth said dryly. “But you won’t catch a
chill if you’re out there for two minutes.”
Caleb whined. “Can I play in the rain too, Uncle Carrot? Please, please, please?”
Gareth paused, glancing at Flores. He was torn. Flores could read him a little—part of
Gareth wanted to let Caleb be a kid and splash around. The other part of him didn’t
want to get into trouble with his friends.
“I could watch him in the rain,” Flores offered. “Two minutes, right?”
A warm, toe-curling smile spread across Gareth’s lips. “Two minutes,” Gareth rumbled.
“I just need to get Zoe to shelter, and then we’ll let you have at it.”
Zoe? Flores looked at the cradle in the backseat, where a small child burbled. Gareth
opened an umbrella over the backdoor, then leaned in to grab the cradle.
“I can help,” Flores said, stepping out of the car.
“Get the travel bag next to Caleb.” Gareth nodded at it; Flores hurried to obey.
He followed Gareth to the sheltered walkway next to the parking lot, setting the bag
beside Zoe’s cradle. Gareth went back for Caleb—Caleb looked tiny next to Gareth, and
Zoe, even smaller.
Rain poured in sheets by the time Gareth and Caleb stepped under the walkway roof.
“It’s raining cats and dogs,” Caleb said, peering up at the sky. “They’ll drop from the
clouds and suddenly it’s a zoo!”
Caleb was unexpectedly funny. Something tickled in Flores’ chest; he looked

disbelievingly at the child, huffing.
Gareth watched them with a knowing smile. He shut his umbrella and nodded at the
nearby streetlamp. “Now’s your chance.”
Rain glimmered beneath the streetlamp’s orange glow. Excitement sizzled down Flores’
nerves. He was going to do it. He’d walk into the rain and get all wet, and he wouldn’t
be punished for it.
Gareth stepped close, slipping his large fingers into Flores’ back pocket—a faint,
smooth pressure against Flores’ ass. Flores stopped breathing. Then Gareth pulled
Flores’ phone out, waving it at him. “I’m taking this for safekeeping.”
Flores smiled. “You think of everything, sir.”
Gareth laughed, brushing a kiss against Flores’ temple. Then he swatted Flores’ ass, a
light jolt that went up Flores’ spine. “I’m not telling you again.”
Flores took a deep breath and stepped out into the rain. The first few droplets dotted his
clothes, soaking through fabric. They were pleasantly cold, almost ticklish. So Flores
stepped further away from shelter, hoping to catch more raindrops.
“Can I go? Can I?” Caleb begged.
“Yeah,” Gareth rumbled. “But just for two minutes. Stay close to Uncle Flores.”
With a whoop, Caleb raced into the rain. Flores held a hand out to him; Caleb took it,
tiny fingers clasping around Flores’ own.
“Do you know how to dance?” Flores asked.

Caleb bounced on his feet, nodding. “But I want to dance a snake dance. Is there a snake
dance?”
Flores didn’t know of a snake dance, but he sure as hell could invent one. “Of course
you can. Here’s how you do it.” He pinched his thumbs and fingers together to mimic
snake heads. Then he held his hands up and wriggled his body. “This is the two-headed
snake dance!”
Caleb giggled, imitating Flores. He stomped around in circles with his pretend snakes,
hissing at the rain.
With that question answered, Flores stretched his own arms, tipping his face up to the
sky. Raindrops pattered on his skin and his clothes, soaking through his shirt. For a
moment, Flores wondered if the servants at the mansion would tell on him again. Then
he shoved those memories out of his mind.
Flores shook out his limbs, his body falling into a few modern dance moves he’d picked
up through the years.
“I thought you only danced ballet,” Gareth said.
When Flores looked back, Gareth had Zoe in his arms, cradled against his chest. But
Gareth’s smile—that sent warmth all the way to Flores’ toes.
“I dance a few things,” Flores said.
Gareth’s smile grew. “You keep surprising me.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is.”
Over the past week, Gareth had plied him with compliments. Flores wanted to repay
Gareth for what he’d done—taking Flores into his home, cooking for him, providing
safety.
So Flores danced for Gareth, a simple thirty-two-beat thing. Gareth’s gaze never once
left him. His attention raked over Flores’ skin, and in that moment, with the raindrops
pattering on Flores’ body and its hush drowning out the rest of the world, it felt like
they were in their own bubble, Flores with an alpha who cared.
He spread his arms and twirled, bowing for Gareth, offering himself—because dancing
was how Flores spoke best. He showed Gareth his gratitude and his appreciation, he
showed Gareth his need and his longing.
In the rain, Flores danced and was himself, all the good parts and the bad parts. Even
though he was afraid that Gareth might reject him, he did the best he could. He wanted
to be pretty for Gareth. He wanted to be someone worthy of Gareth’s love.
Then, afraid that he’d revealed too much of himself, Flores stopped, curtsying. The rain
cooled his blush, and Gareth smiled. Flores caught his breath, uncertain if Gareth had
read all of him, or if he’d just seen it as a simple dance.
But that deep, appreciative look in Gareth’s eyes... it felt as though Gareth had seen
through Flores. Flores’ stomach flipped.
Gareth broke their locked gaze, leaning in to kiss Zoe on the forehead.
Zoe wasn’t Gareth’s child. She wasn’t even family. And Gareth just... held her close,
smiling down at her, too.
He likes babies, Flores realized, suddenly painfully aware of the new life in his belly.
That’s why he doesn’t want me to lose this one.
Fear fluttered up his throat like he’d swallowed a butterfly. I don’t know how to be a dad.
He turned away, afraid of Gareth glimpsing his uncertainty. But now that he knew
Gareth wanted their child, Flores knew he couldn’t go through with an abortion. It
would be wrong to.
If I keep this baby, will he like me more?
It was the wrongest reason to have a child; Flores knew that firsthand. But if Gareth
somehow decided that Flores was a burden after all, at least Flores would still get to see
Gareth around on child visits.
I like Gareth, Flores realized. Enough to do reckless things for him.
“Caleb,” Gareth called. “Get back here. Your two minutes are up.”
“But I wanna,” Caleb whined.
“Nope. You got to play in the rain. Get back here.” That was Gareth’s authoritative
tone, the one that sent a shiver down Flores’ spine.
Caleb trotted over with a grumble, his tiny face so disappointed that Flores felt bad for
him. Flores made his way back to Gareth, only to realize that Gareth was stepping into
the rain. Zoe was back in her cradle.
“Your Papa told me you’re practicing to be an alpha,” Gareth said to Caleb. “Your next
job is to watch over Zoe. Tell me if anything’s wrong. Can you do that?”
Caleb perked up, his glasses smeared with rain. “Yes!”
“Good.” Gareth looked up, meeting Flores’ gaze.
Flores was suddenly aware of his own clothes sticking to him, heavy fabric revealing
every curve and groove of his skin. But Gareth wasn’t looking at Flores’ body. Gareth’s
eyes were locked onto his face. He stopped in front of Flores, cupping his jaw.
Gareth hadn’t really kissed Flores much, save for this morning, when Flores had been
nervous. Flores wanted to experience it again, when maybe it wasn’t a pity kiss. But
why would Gareth even do this for him?
Gareth tipped Flores’ face up, his gaze intent, his hair turning wet in the rain. He
stroked Flores’ lip with his thumb, a slow, warm caress. Flores forgot to breathe. Then
Gareth leaned in and caught Flores’ lips in a sweet, electric kiss, all lips and teeth and
tongue, and Flores’ breath rushed out. I should tell him.
“Gareth,” he gasped.
“You wanted this,” Gareth murmured, sliding into his mouth.
Flores’ heart stopped. Gareth consumed him, tangling their tongues. Flores’ knees grew
weak. Rain pattered onto them, stealing warmth from Flores’ skin. But Gareth’s lips
warmed him up, his touch soft and damp inside Flores’ mouth, like a decadent promise.
He was touching Flores inside. Flores groaned, opening for him, holding onto Gareth’s
shirt so he wouldn’t fall. He’s kissing me.
“Flores,” Gareth growled. He kissed Flores again, his lips wet, raindrops from his hair
dripping onto Flores’ face. Flores’ heart almost pounded out of his chest.
“Sir,” he gasped.
A low rumble vibrated from Gareth’s chest into Flores; Gareth broke the kiss, his gaze
burning hot in the cold rain. “We’re going home now,” Gareth rasped. “Get you all
warmed up and dry.”
I should tell him about keeping the baby. Faintly, Flores smelled Gareth’s musk. He glanced
down—Gareth’s bulge strained against his pants. Flores’ hole squeezed.
“You have a snake, too,” Caleb said, all wide-eyed.
“What snake?” Gareth asked when they’d stepped back under the sheltered walkway.
Caleb pointed at Gareth’s hips. Gareth froze, scrubbing his face. “What the fuck?”
“Trouser snake,” Flores blurted, remembering an old conversation. “It’s not a snake. It’s
a dick.”
Caleb frowned, squinting at Gareth’s hips. Gareth swore and picked up Zoe’s cradle,
hiding his bulge from view.
“But Papa said dicks are bad people,” Caleb said. “Do you have a bad person inside
your pants?”
Gareth opened and closed his mouth, lost for words. Flores answered for him. “It’s an
imp,” Flores said. “Imps are tiny magic creatures about this tall. Uncle Carrot has a
naughty imp in his pants, it’s so horrible, it needs to be tied up.”
“Flores,” Gareth spluttered.
Caleb’s eyes had gone round. “It’s a bad person?”
“Yes,” Flores said. “It’s a very bad person. Like the sort that goes to jail.” He made a
face. “You don’t even want to look at it, it’s so bad.”
Gareth’s stare burned into the side of Flores’ head. Flores’ stomach flipped. He liked
Gareth’s attention, even if Gareth was threatening punishment.
So he continued, “You shouldn’t look at the imps too long, or they’ll crawl out and steal
your eyeballs when you sleep.”
Caleb recoiled in disgust. “They’ll steal my eyeballs?”
“Yes,” Flores said. “Don’t look at the imps. They’re really bad for you.”
“Flores,” Gareth hissed.
“You want to be ogled?” Flores shot back. Gareth’s only answer was a glare. Flores’
mouth twitched; he liked leaving Gareth tongue-tied. With how good at everything
Gareth was, it was such a sweet victory when Flores got the better of him.
As Caleb raced down the common corridor, Gareth stepped close, squeezing Flores’ ass
so hard, it edged on pain. Flores gasped.
“There’ll be punishment later,” Gareth murmured. His gaze scorched. “Don’t forget
who you are, Flores.”
Flores gulped, his blood swooping between his legs. “I’m your boy?”
“Yes.” Gareth’s dark smile made Flores’ breath hitch. “And I’ll have my criminal imp
show you a couple things tonight.”
G ARETH SLIPPED INTO HIS APARTMENT , sighing. It was late. He and Flores had taken
care of Zoe and Caleb, feeding them, watching them until York and Perry had gotten
home. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Except time had dragged on, and
Flores had nodded off in front of the TV even before Gareth returned the kids.
Gareth had sent Flores to bed. Flores had pouted, but when Gareth peeked into his
bedroom, he’d found Flores fast asleep, curled around his ratty pillow.
It had been a long day for Flores; Gareth didn’t blame him. It just meant that there
wouldn’t be sex tonight.
Gareth shoved at the bulge in his pants, ignoring his disappointment.
He still remembered that moment with stark clarity: Flores taking Caleb’s hand,
teaching Caleb a silly dance that made them both smile. Caleb had started his own
dance, and Flores—he’d noticed Gareth’s attention, and his movements had become a
little more carefree, a little happier.
Flores had spun on his toes, a smile spreading through his face, his gaze soft and warm.
His clothes had stuck to his skin, his hair plastered against his head. Even bedraggled,
Flores had been full of joy. Gareth’s breath had stuck in his throat, his heart thumping
at the open longing in Flores’ expression.
Flores was so different now, from the boy Gareth had begun keeping an eye on. And
Gareth had wanted.
It’s just until he gets his life together, Gareth told himself.
Until then... maybe he could have Flores as his own.
He got ready for bed. Glanced out the window. It was still pouring out, lightning
illuminating the sky. A sharp thundercrack rattled the windows.
Nights like this were best spent curled up in bed with someone. Gareth crawled under
the sheets, turning out the lights. He wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock,
thinking about Flores.
Scarcely had he begun to jerk off, when the door creaked open.
“Gareth?” Flores asked, his voice rough with sleep. He was a vague shadow in the
doorway, until purple lightning lit him up. He was dressed in a plain shirt and shorts,
and he looked scared, his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow.
“What’s wrong?” Gareth asked, his heart thumping.
Thunder cracked right outside the apartment; Flores jumped violently. “Can I—Can I
come in?”
“Sure.”
Flores shut the door, padding over. Then he paused next to Gareth’s bed, fidgeting.
“The thunder woke me up. I don’t like storms.”
“You can sleep here if you’d like,” Gareth said. He unwrapped his fingers from his
cock. Shuffled over to the other side of the bed, so there was space for Flores.
Flores clambered onto the mattress, his weight tugging at the sheets. Then he burrowed
under the covers with a sigh, squirming closer.
Gareth swallowed. Flores was in his bed. They’d fucked here before, but tonight, Flores
had just asked to sleep in Gareth’s space. Gareth wasn’t about to shove his cock at him.
Should’ve put on some clothes. His skin felt too bare against the sheets.
Flores continued to shuffle closer, inch by inch. Gareth’s throat went dry. He wanted to
touch Flores. But he was naked, and Flores was a temptation. Flores brushed his fingers
against Gareth’s hand—the one Gareth had been using to jerk off. Gareth blushed. Not
that hand.
Except Flores linked their fingers together, pressing his face against Gareth’s shoulder.
“You feel safe,” he mumbled, his breath rushing against Gareth’s skin. “I like being
close to you.”
Gareth’s heart skipped. The chain tugged around his neck, and he couldn’t wear it,
suddenly. Not that ring, not with Flores in his bed.
He slipped the chain off his head, leaning over Flores to set it on the nightstand. Gareth
figured it was okay—it was dark in the room, and Flores wouldn’t know Gareth was
naked, anyway.
Small hands came up to touch his chest. Gareth froze. Yeah, he was straddling Flores.
But they weren’t touching, save for where Flores had splayed his hands across Gareth’s
pecs. Flores purred, sliding his fingers down Gareth’s abs, and then further down,
wrapping around his cock.
Gareth’s breath punched out of him. “Fuck.”
“You’re not wearing anything,” Flores whispered, skimming his fingers down Gareth’s
entire length. “Mm. You feel so good.”
Pleasure skittered through Gareth’s veins; his cock grew achingly hard. Flores moaned,
squeezing Gareth, sliding his whole hand down Gareth’s cock.
“Flores,” Gareth said through gritted teeth. His pulse pounded between his legs. Any
more, and he would fuck Flores through the bed, even with him half-asleep.
As though Flores wasn’t aware of Gareth’s fraying restraint, he leaned up, pressing his
nose against Gareth’s chest. “You smell so good, too,” Flores breathed. “I want your
scent all over me.”
Gareth’s first instinct was to open him, and fuck inside.
His second instinct was to bite down on Flores, and mark him.
“Flores,” Gareth hissed, grabbing his wrists. He pinned Flores’ hands above his head,
reaching over to flick the lights on.
Golden light flooded the room. Flores squinted. Then his gaze raked down Gareth’s
body, his pupils blowing wide.
“Oh,” Flores wheezed. And his musk billowed between them, a hard line growing
behind his shorts.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Gareth growled. How he’d sleep with his cock hard
enough to cut steel, he wasn’t sure. “Sleep.”
Flores dragged his gaze up Gareth’s body—his thighs, his abs, his pecs. And then he
blatantly ogled Gareth’s cock, licking his lips. Gareth’s cock jerked under his attention,
eager for his worship.
“I was—I was going to tell you something,” Flores breathed, opening his legs.
“What haven’t you already told me?” Gareth hissed, struggling not to rub his cock
against Flores’ pretty mouth. He was starting to leak, and he couldn’t think. He wanted
to push his cock between Flores’ pert asscheeks, spread them with his length. Or maybe
let Flores lick it first. Teach him how to suck cock.
“I can’t—remember.” Flores squirmed, his entire body bucking up. “Touch me, Gareth.
Sir.”
That word shot down Gareth’s spine; his insides clenched. Precome shot from his tip,
landing on Flores’ cheek.
Flores groaned, sticking his tongue out, trying to lap it up.
Fuck. Gareth gathered that moisture off Flores’ face, holding it just out of Flores’ reach.
“Ask me nicely for it.”
Flores whimpered, his gaze darting between Gareth’s face, and his thumb. “Let me taste
your precome, sir. Please.”
He was good. Obedient. Gareth throbbed, stroking his thumb across Flores’ lower lip.
Flores groaned, sucking Gareth’s taste into his mouth. Then he moaned, parting his lips
for more. Gareth swallowed hard. Flores was desperate for his touch, his taste, his
smell, and Gareth was going to give it all to him.
He eased himself up Flores’ body, angling his cock toward Flores’ pink mouth. Flores
craned his neck, pressing hungry kisses down Gareth’s length with his soft, warm lips.
Then he opened his mouth, sucking on Gareth’s sensitive underside, his damp tongue
dragging up Gareth’s cock, straining to reach its tip.
Gareth’s teeth ached with need. He sucked in deep breaths. Looked at the ring on his
nightstand. That barely helped.
“Please,” Flores whispered, licking at every part of Gareth’s cock he could reach.
“Please, sir. More.”
Fuck. Gareth released his hands. He backed off a little, so Flores could lean up, rubbing
his face against Gareth’s cock. And now he smelled like Gareth’s musk, his pink lips
dragging up Gareth’s length, all the way to his tip.
“Suck my cock,” Gareth growled.
“Yes, sir.” Flores closed his hot mouth around Gareth’s tip, moaning. Gareth had to
suppress the urge to fuck into his mouth. Fill Flores up with his cock. He grasped
Flores’ hair, rolling his hips. Just to see his cock dip inside Flores, grinding against his
tongue. Flores groaned, sucking on Gareth, each pull sending a jolt of pleasure down
Gareth’s spine.
“Fuck,” Gareth hissed.
Flores leaned away, his lips glistening. “Does it feel good?”
Gareth slapped his thigh; Flores yelped. “I didn’t say you could stop.”
Flores took Gareth back inside, sucking on him twice as hard. Felt like he was desperate
for Gareth’s come. Gareth slapped his thigh again. “Don’t go faster.”
Flores jerked, slowing down, taking more of Gareth’s cock into his mouth. He almost
gagged; Gareth pulled away, cradling his jaw. “No teeth,” Gareth murmured, fucking
lightly into his mouth. “Kiss my tip. There, right under the head. Feels good there. Aah,
fuck.”
Flores brightened, wriggling his tongue against that bundle of nerves. Then he kissed it,
flicking his tongue against Gareth’s tip, before taking it back into his mouth. Flores
worked his tongue against Gareth’s slit, brushing his tongue shallowly inside. Pleasure
shot down Gareth’s veins. He wheezed, and Flores played with that narrow opening,
sucking lightly on it, dipping the tip of his tongue back in, licking it like he was begging
for some cream.
Gareth shuddered, his fist tightening in Flores’ hair. His boy learned fast. He liked that.
As a reward, he reached behind, lightly grasping Flores’ cock through his shorts. Flores
spasmed, his cock growing thicker, dampness soaking through the thin cotton.
“Sir,” Flores moaned around Gareth’s cock.
Fuck, if that didn’t sound good. Gareth gave him a squeeze; Flores arched, pushing his
hips up.
So Gareth shoved his hand down Flores’ shorts, finding lace. His cock jerked with
approval. He reached deeper, caressing Flores’ trapped, straining cock. “You wore a
little something to bed?”
Flores gasped, rolling his cock against Gareth’s hand. “I like lace,” he mumbled around
Gareth’s cock.
Gareth smacked his cock lightly. “Don’t move your hips.”
Flores jerked at the impact, writhing instead. “Feels good.” He sucked on Gareth’s cock,
lapping at it, caressing Gareth’s thighs, then his balls, squeezing them like he wanted
more of Gareth’s come.
Thunder cracked outside the window. Flores jumped, panic flashing through his eyes.
Gareth cradled his face, pushing his cock deeper into Flores’ mouth, distracting him.
And Flores calmed.
“Good boy,” Gareth murmured.
Flores sucked gratefully on Gareth’s cock, purring.

Gareth closed his fist around Flores’ cock, pumping it a couple times. Lace dragged
roughly against Flores’ skin; he shuddered, spreading his legs. So Gareth stroked down
to his sac, thumbing his delicate balls. Then he probed further down, finding Flores’ wet
hole.
Flores had soaked through his panties, and his shorts, too. It couldn’t have been long
since they’d started this. Holy damn. Gareth’s cock pulsed, eager to explore Flores’ tight
heat.
He pushed his fingers between Flores’ cheeks, grinding drenched lace against Flores’
sensitive entrance. Flores groaned; his hole fluttered—he was so damn responsive.
Gareth wanted to taste him, he wanted to fuck him, he wanted to do far too many
things, and there were only so few hours in a night.
Flores was panting; he’d stopped sucking on Gareth. Gareth cracked his palm against
Flores’ thigh, pain prickling his own hand. “Suck my cock, boy. I didn’t say you could
stop.”
Flores yelped, sucking on Gareth in earnest. His mouth was hot and wet, his cock
jerking as he took more of Gareth past his lips. It felt good, knowing how hungry Flores
was for him. Knowing Gareth could pleasure him out of his mind.
Gareth stroked Flores’ hole through his panties, dipping one finger lightly inside, lace
and all. Fuck, he was tight. Flores gasped and cried out, his hole squeezing around
Gareth’s finger. Gareth’s cock pulsed; he almost shot his load. He wanted to open
Flores’ ass, fit every inch of his cock inside. He wanted to see Flores’ pink hole stretched
around him, begging him for his come.
He bunched the lace up and wedged it between Flores’ cheeks, so the soaked, rough
fabric pressed against his hole, anchoring Flores’ attention there. Flores hissed, but he
lapped and sucked at Gareth’s cock, hardly protesting at all. He really was a good boy
when he wanted to be.
So Gareth decided to test him.

G ARETH ’ S COCK was musky and heavy, velvety on Flores’ tongue. It pushed into his
mouth and rewarded him with precome, pulsing against his lips. And when Flores
wriggled his tongue against Gareth’s slit, Gareth trembled, swearing under his breath.
Flores liked getting under his alpha’s skin. Especially because Gareth was driving
Flores insane, his finger pushing ever so shallowly into Flores’ hole, just teasing him
there. Showing Flores he could fuck inside, except he chose not to.
“Sir,” Flores begged, spreading his legs wider. He needed to be touched. He needed to
come.
Instead, Gareth cracked his palm against Flores’ thigh, sending a jolt of pain down his
nerves. Flores cried out, his cock throbbing. He needed to touch himself. He needed
relief from this torment.
“Please,” Flores whimpered, squeezing Gareth’s cock with his hands.
Gareth peeled the lace away from Flores’ vulnerable cock, wrapping his callused fingers
around it. Pleasure thrummed through Flores’ veins; he arched, moaning when Gareth
began to pump him steadily, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.
Gareth would reward him.
Flores sobbed with relief, sucking fervently on Gareth’s cock, riding the wave up
toward the edge. He needed his release. He needed to come so he could remember what
he’d wanted to tell Gareth. He rocked into Gareth’s hand, his legs shaking as the
tension in his body wound higher and higher, until all he needed was another two
seconds—
Gareth released him. He completely let go of Flores’ cock, leaving it throbbing and
neglected, surrounded by air. And the chance for Flores’ orgasm completely passed.
Flores thrashed, shoving his hips up, his body screaming for release.
Had Gareth been distracted by something? Except Gareth’s gaze was dark; he was
watching Flores. “I didn’t say I’d let you come,” Gareth rumbled, stroking his thumb
across Flores’ tight nipples.
Flores whined. “But—”

“I’m your sir,” Gareth continued, slapping Flores’ thigh so another jolt raced down his
spine. “I’ll tell you when you get to come.”
Flores whimpered, his cock abandoned, his ass empty, needing to be filled. He chanced
letting go of Gareth’s cock. “Don’t you need to fuck me?”
He kissed Gareth’s cock and licked it, just to remind Gareth of his need. Gareth’s
eyelids fluttered shut; he groaned and rubbed his cock against Flores’ lips, but he
wasn’t desperate like Flores was.
Flores squirmed, kissing that thick length. It wasn’t fair. Gareth was denying him. “Is
this because I called your cock an imp?”
“That, too.” Gareth smirked, smacking Flores’ cock lightly. The impact wasn’t painful; it
sent a jolt through Flores’ body, reminding him of his tight balls, his come all ready to
spill out. “I thought I’d see where your limits are.”
Flores whined. This wasn’t his limit? “I need to come.”
“I know.” Gareth rubbed his cock all over Flores’ face, smearing precome and spit
against his skin. Flores groaned, kissing his length. He needed Gareth’s cock inside him,
opening him, claiming every inch of him.
Then Gareth took Flores’ cock in hand, jerking him off again. Flores shuddered, riding
the wave. But Gareth wasn’t going to let Flores come this time, was he? Flores
whimpered, the tension in his body rising higher and higher, until his throat went dry
and he was almost at the edge. Flores shook uncontrollably, gasping, hoping
desperately for release.
And Gareth let go of him, so the tension held, and then faded, a disappointing slide that
jacked up the frustration in Flores’ chest. He whined, digging his fingers into Gareth’s
thigh, pushing his hips up to try and tempt his alpha.
Gareth slapped his thigh again. Flores whined, almost sorry that he’d called Gareth’s
cock names. “Will it be better if I don’t call it an imp?”
Gareth smiled, his callused fingers whispering over Flores’ cock, teasing it just enough
to make Flores’ spine arch. “Perhaps.”
Then he stroked Flores again, all the way to the edge, twice, and let him fall. Flores all
but sobbed, his nails raking down Gareth’s thighs, his ass so wet, he’d soaked the bed,
too.
“Gareth,” Flores growled, his frustration building. His cock was so hard, it hurt.
Gareth struck Flores’ thigh, making him yelp. “I’m not Gareth right now. Who am I?”
Flores almost said, Sir. But what was the point when Gareth would just tease him
further, and not let him come? “You’re an evil asshole with an imp for a dick.”
Gareth paused, his eyes narrowing. “Say that again,” he murmured.
Flores glared. “You have a really short snake that goes out and commits all the crimes,
and it needs to be tied up.”
Just to be sure Gareth got the hint, Flores looked pointedly at his cock.
Gareth growled, grasping Flores’ cock again. And Flores knew for certain that he
wouldn’t get to come. “Gareth, please.”
“Nope.” Gareth began stroking Flores again, bringing him higher and higher, pleasure
singing through his body, but never quite enough. Flores writhed, his body following
Gareth to the edge. His cock leaked, his balls pulled tight, and it felt like he would shoot
forever, if Gareth let him come.
Gareth touched him until he sobbed and trembled, his entire body tense, just waiting
for release.
Once again, Gareth denied him. It felt like he’d pulled the rug out from under Flores;
Flores thrashed, crying out in frustration. He dug his nails into Gareth’s thighs. But
Gareth wasn’t letting up on the punishment at all. He would let Flores suffer for hours,
and all Flores had done was try to save him from a lifetime of awkward.
Flores hissed when Gareth grasped his cock again, about to deny Flores his release.
Flores reached around Gareth, but he couldn’t touch his cock. He tried to go under;
Gareth sat on Flores’ hands, pinning them against his belly.
Out of desperation, Flores targeted Gareth’s weakest spot—if he was getting punished,
he might as well be punished for something worthwhile.
Flores wriggled his hand around, and pushed his fingers up between Gareth’s
asscheeks. Gareth’s eyes grew wide. Flores skimmed his fingers down Gareth’s
asscrack, found the pucker of muscle, and pushed a finger in dry.
Gareth’s ass was hot, tight, and it wasn’t slippery like Flores’ was.
“What the hell,” Gareth snapped, jerking upward like something weird had crawled
into his ass. Which kind of did happen. Flores’ finger slipped out of him.
Flores held his breath. He’d gone and done it. He’d touched an alpha where no one else
had done. And now he knew what Gareth felt like inside.
Gareth growled low and dangerously, his eyes flashing. Flores’ heart stopped. Gareth
grasped Flores by the arm, flipping him roughly onto his front. “Gonna punish you for
real now,” Gareth rasped. Then he cracked his palm across Flores’ ass, hard.
Flores cried out, pain shooting down his nerves. Gareth hefted him onto all fours. He
ripped Flores’ shorts down his ass. Then he spanked Flores again. And again. He struck
both Flores’ cheeks until they throbbed with pain and Flores lost count, his cock pulsing
with need. There was now a wet spot of precome on the bed, right under Flores’ cock.
“Sir, please,” Flores whimpered, pushing his ass up, offering it to Gareth. Gareth would
still fuck him... right?
Gareth pulled Flores’ lace panties aside. Then he grasped Flores’ cheeks and spread
them apart, exposing his hole. Flores held his breath, hoping Gareth would push his
fingers in. Or his cock.
But Gareth smacked Flores right on his hole, pain and pleasure twisting down his
nerves. Flores yelped, his cock aching harder, his hole squeezing, his body past ready to
take his alpha’s cock.
“You won’t do that again,” Gareth growled, striking Flores’ hole a second time, then a
third.
Flores gasped and writhed, relaxing for Gareth, hoping Gareth would finally fuck him.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Say that louder,” Gareth snarled, spreading Flores’ ass so wide, Flores knew Gareth
saw every part of his leaking hole.
“I won’t do it again, sir,” Flores yelped, pushing his ass up at Gareth. “I’m sorry, sir. I
promise, sir.”
“Fuck,” Gareth breathed.
When Flores chanced a look over his shoulder, he found Gareth grasping himself, his
cock flushed a dark red, like it was right on the edge. Flores’ mouth went dry.
Gareth struck Flores’ hole again, sending bliss down Flores’ nerves. Then he spat on his
fingers, pushing three of them into Flores’ hole. They stretched him open impossibly
wide. Flores wheezed, scrabbling at the sheets.
“Don’t you dare come until I say you can,” Gareth growled, scooping slick out onto his
cock.
Flores nodded desperately, reaching back to present for his alpha. “I promise, sir. I
won’t come, sir.”
Gareth swore. Then he pushed his blunt tip right against Flores’ hole, and shoved his
cock all the way in.
Flores screamed, his body stretching around his alpha, taking every inch. Unlike their
first time, Gareth was ruthless in his fucking now. His cock was an unyielding length
inside Flores, hard, thick, opening him inside. Despite the burn, Gareth drove pleasure
into Flores, over and over, his cock grinding sweetly against that one spot inside, until
all Flores knew was Gareth’s chest against his back, his cock plunging deep, milking
Flores for his come.
Flores tried to breathe. Gareth fucked him so hard, he slid forward on the mattress. And
Gareth pulled him back, cramming every inch of his cock inside Flores’ body.
Flores sobbed with pleasure, his own need winding up like a spring. He was close, and
he wasn’t sure if Gareth would let him come this time.
“S-Sir,” Flores gasped. “P-please. I’m s-so close.”
“You won’t come until I do,” Gareth hissed in his ear, squeezing Flores’ tip to hold back
his orgasm. Flores sobbed, writhing, his body opening for his alpha over and over.
Then Gareth swore, anchoring Flores against himself as he fucked in a final time, his
cock swelling, shooting jet after jet of come inside Flores’ body.
They hadn’t even used a condom. Gareth had marked him inside. Somehow, that only
made Flores’ need spike. Flores wheezed, his orgasm threatening to sweep through
him. “S-s-sir, p-please.”
“Come now,” Gareth hissed, wrapping his hand around Flores’ cock. Then he pumped
twice, and Flores came apart in his arms, pleasure thundering bright-white through
him, his spine bowing, his toes curling as his body clenched. His release seemed to last
forever.
Flores blacked out for a long moment. When he blinked himself back into the room,
Gareth had withdrawn from him. He lay on his side, one arm folded beneath his head,
the other slowly kneading Flores’ stinging ass.
That had... all just happened. Flores panted, staring at Gareth. Just trying to
comprehend this. They’d just had sex again. Somehow, it had been even more intense.
And Gareth had touched Flores so intimately. He still was.
“You aren’t knotting me?” Flores blushed, his heart thudding.
Gareth slanted an unreadable look at him. “You’ll be sore enough tomorrow. I don’t
want to add to it.”
“But I’ve never had a knot,” Flores said, thinking about all the porn videos with couples
knotting. Then he looked at the knot starting to swell at the base of Gareth’s cock, and,
well. Maybe there wouldn’t be enough prep in the world to make Flores take that. He
gulped.
“Yeah,” Gareth said, glancing away. “I don’t... usually knot in people. It’s a bit much
unless you want to be sore for days.”
Gareth’s knot was bigger than what Flores expected. He could probably show up in a
porn video, and no one would bat an eyelid. And Flores had a rehearsal tomorrow that
he couldn’t miss.
“Okay,” Flores said, wondering how much his ass would hurt when he woke up.
“About tonight,” Gareth said. “Don’t do that again.”
Flores blinked. Do what? “Oh. You mean... sticking my finger up your ass?”
“Yeah.” Gareth narrowed his eyes. “Not a fan.”
Oops. Flores squirmed, wondering if there was more punishment to come. “You said
you were punishing me and testing me, but... it was awful.” Flores made a face. “I
wasn’t even that bad.”
Gareth looked thoughtful. “Five times too much for you?”
Flores nodded, fidgeting. “I was just getting Caleb’s attention off you, you know. For
the future, too. And you just... wouldn’t let me come.”
Warmth flickered in Gareth’s eyes; he blew out a breath. “Okay, yeah. That might’ve
been a bit much.” He leaned closer, stroking Flores’ ass, easing away the sting. “Guess I
fucked up as your sir,” he murmured. “Got carried away. You make such hot little
sounds when I deny you.”
Flores blushed. “You’re cruel. But... I really liked the punishment after that. When you
were really rough.”
“Yeah?” Gareth’s eyes darkened; he kissed Flores’ forehead. “That’ll make you sore
tomorrow.” He kissed down Flores’ nose, then his cheeks. “But for what it’s worth, I’m
sorry. I’ll do better in the future.”
Gareth looked hesitant, hopeful, and Flores’ heart swelled for him. In all the movies
he’d seen, alphas rarely apologized at all. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Are you, really?” Gareth smiled, stroking up Flores’ back. “The look on your face—
your eyes went wide when you pulled that.”
“I’d never been inside an alpha before!” Flores squirmed. “But I won’t do it again
unless you want me to.”
Gareth grinned, kissing Flores on the lips. “That’s my boy.”
Flores’ heart skipped. When Gareth did things like this, it felt as though... Gareth really
liked him. “I remember what I was going to tell you,” Flores said. “I’m keeping the
baby.” Then he stopped breathing, just waiting for Gareth’s response.
Gareth inhaled slowly, several emotions flickering through his eyes. “Are you sure? It’s
a lot of commitment.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep it.”
Gareth stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned Flores to face him, stroked
Flores’ flat belly, and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to Flores’ lips. Flores’ heart thumped.
This is what it feels like to be loved, isn’t it?
“I’ll be there every step of the way,” Gareth murmured. “Whatever you need, you’ll
have it. No matter how old the baby is.”
Flores gulped. That... almost sounded permanent. And it scared him, because he’d
never imagined chaining himself down before. He didn’t want to. He’d spent twenty
years with little choice in his parents’ mansion, and he still had so much he could do
with his life. Except... Gareth wanted the baby.
“You still have a chance to say no, you know,” Gareth murmured, as though he
understood Flores’ dilemma. “Either way. You can still say no to the pregnancy, and
you can also leave the baby behind after the birth. I won’t judge you for it.”
“Really?” Flores mumbled, his throat growing tight. Not having Gareth judge him—
that sounded so liberating.
“Really,” Gareth said.

He stroked Flores’ cheek, his eyes crinkling, his hair streaked with silver. He was so
much older than Flores was. He was richer, and he had his place in life. And Flores
just... didn’t feel like he belonged by Gareth’s side. As much as he wanted to be.
“What—What are we?” Flores breathed, afraid to hear the answer. “Me and you.”
Gareth paused his caresses. “What do you want us to be?”
Alpha and omega. That was too much to ask. “I—I don’t know.”
Gareth raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you do.”
Damn it. Flores’ face burned. “I, um.” Gareth would definitely turn down being Flores’
alpha. But he liked being Flores’ sir. “I want to be your boy,” Flores said. It was safe
enough. He could secretly like Gareth that way, and Gareth would never find out.
Gareth’s lips pulled into a smile. “I like being your sir.”
He leaned in, cupped Flores’ nape, and kissed him on the lips again. Flores’ heart
threatened to burst.
I really like him, he realized. But it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Love is when you set someone
free, right? Like his parents had never done for him. Flores returned the kiss, shoving
away his confusing thoughts.
Gareth left the bed, heading into the bathroom. The faucet gurgled, and he returned
shortly with a washcloth. He dragged it along Flores’ sides, wiping him down. Flores
groaned, leaning into that heat. It felt like a warm bath.
Gareth proceeded to wipe down all of Flores’ sweat, then down between his legs,
cleaning his hole, too. Flores blushed. Gareth’s soft touches made him feel like he was
forgiven.
“What’s your favorite bread at Ben’s Buns?” Flores asked.
“The sweet potato bun, why?”
Flores looked at his toes. “Just curious.” Maybe he’d been thinking about getting Gareth
something small when he received his first paycheck.
Gareth grinned, tickling Flores’ navel with the washcloth. “When I have some time
tomorrow, I’ll get you a credit card under my account. Use it for the doctor’s, or
emergencies, or anything.”
Flores looked incredulously at him. “You trust me with that?”

“Yeah, I do.”
And all Flores could afford was a measly bun for Gareth. That didn’t seem right at all.
“Hey.” Gareth scooped Flores against himself, cradling Flores against his sweat-damp
chest. “Stop worrying. You’ll be fine.”
“But I—”
Gareth kissed him then, slow and sweet, and Flores’ thoughts escaped.
He didn’t feel good enough for Gareth. But while this lasted, Flores would treasure his
sir, and savor everything that Gareth gave him.
“H OW ’ S THIS FOR A CANVAS ?” Gareth asked as they pulled into the driveway. He
hadn’t seen this place in a while. Mostly, he’d been avoiding it—the house was full of
memories, and he’d been enjoying Flores’ distraction too much to return.
“Is this... where you lived before?” Flores asked hesitantly, his gaze roving over the
two-storied building, with its two-car garage and overgrown succulents dotting the
front yard.
“Yeah. Bought it about twenty years ago,” Gareth said. “That was with a mortgage, but
it’s all paid off at this point.”
Flores frowned. “Wow. I was a year old when you bought it.”
“Are you going to call me an old man again?”
Flores glanced mischievously at him. “Maybe?”
“I’ll show you ‘old’,” Gareth rumbled. Flores’ cheeks turned a pretty pink.
It had been two weeks since Flores’ heat. A week since they’d officially become sir and
boy. Flores had moved into Gareth’s bed, ratty pillow and all. Gareth had grown
familiar with Flores’ creamy thighs, and the different ways his voice could break.
If he thought too much about it, they’d get distracted, all over again.
Flores cracked open the car door, stepping out hesitantly. “Are you sure you trust me to
paint all of this?”
“Maybe not the front,” Gareth said. “Do the insides first, or the back. I don’t want the
neighbors ogling you.”
Flores looked skeptical. “Me?” He looked down at himself. “Sure.”
He didn’t see himself the way Gareth saw him. Flores had straight shoulders—the ballet
dancer posture—and his ribs had started to fill out a little these past two weeks. He had
a thin, slight body, but what Gareth liked most was the way Flores had begun to smile
so easily.
Every time Flores cracked a grin, Gareth wanted to step over, and kiss his lips. Which
ended up with Flores panting instead of smiling, and Gareth was never sure if that was
what he’d meant to do.
He led the way to the front door, handing Flores the duplicate keys. “These are yours.”
Then he breathed in deep, and unlocked the door.
Everything inside was how he’d left it—umbrellas by the front door, shoes in the rack,
leather jackets on the coat hanger. The living room was neat; dust covered the stair rails,
the cabinets, and the TV stand.
In the years after Derek’s death, Gareth had moved most of his things into a separate
room. So he could walk around the house, and not be dragged into grief and memories
when he least expected it. Derek’s room was like a sanctuary and a curse—it held so
much of Gareth’s past, it held good memories, too. But he couldn’t shake the pain of
looking at all those things.
It almost felt wrong, bringing Flores here. This was where he’d built a home with
Derek, it was where he’d raised their child by himself for the past ten years.
After Sawyer had moved out, the house had become a very lonely place.
“Gareth?” Flores asked, leaning gently into his side. “Would you rather I step outside
for a moment?”
Gareth blinked, remembering to breathe again. He shook his head. “Nah. Stay with
me.” He shut the door, kicking off his shoes. “You can probably tell where everything
is. Living room, kitchen, dining room. This is my bedroom.”
He opened the door, blinking at the tidy space. White walls, DVD racks, and an empty
square where his bed used to be. It felt familiar, but so alien at the same time. Maybe
because the room smelled faintly like applewood and dust, instead of applewood and
peony.
Flores paused next to him, looking around. “I can paint on all of these walls?”
“Yup. If there’s anything obstructing a wall you want to use, tell me. I’ll move that
crap.”
Flores nodded. Then he peeked out of the bedroom. “There’s a couple of rooms I’m not
supposed to touch, right?”
“Right.” Gareth brought him to Sawyer’s room first, waving at the closed door. “This is
my son’s room—he’s moved out, but a bunch of his things are still here. He won’t
appreciate finding something new on his walls.”
Flores smiled. “Okay. And the other room...?”

“That’s where I put Derek’s stuff.” Gareth nodded at the room next to Sawyer’s.
“Promise me you won’t go in there.”
For a moment, Gareth wondered if Flores would object to being in Derek’s presence. If
he would scowl at Gareth still keeping Derek’s things around.
But Flores bowed his head. “I promise.”
And Gareth didn’t know if that was foolhardy of Flores, or if it made Gareth like him
more.
He squeezed Flores hand, before returning to his bedroom. He fished the necklace out
of his pocket. He hadn’t been able to put it back on, ever since Flores had moved into
his room. The ring glimmered in his palm; he traced it with his thumb, held it tight, and
then set the ring and necklace gently on his bookshelf.
Flores stood next to him, but he didn’t reach for the chain. “That’s your wedding ring,
isn’t it?”
“Does it bother you?”
Flores shrugged, looking conflicted. “I don’t know. Kind of. I’ll never be as good as
Derek, will I?”
Gareth paused. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “You’re... different.” Their

relationships were different. Derek had been an equal. Flores was... not quite Gareth’s
equal, not in the same way Derek had been. Flores was more of a complement. Someone
Gareth liked protecting. “You don’t have to compare yourself to anyone—” Flower “—
Flores.”
Flores made a face. “I just... I just want you to like me, that’s all.”
“I like you.” Gareth pulled him close, kissing his temple. “You know that.”
Flores’ breath hitched. “Yeah.” He snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around Gareth’s
waist. “Thank you, sir.”
Gareth’s heart skipped. He pulled Flores out of the bedroom, heading to the entryway
so he could bring some of Flores’ new paints in.
There was a set of pliers on the entryway table that Gareth had missed when he’d first
stepped in—those weren’t supposed to be there. Sawyer had probably left them when
he’d dropped by. Sawyer might visit again.
Gareth sighed. “Looks like my son was here.” He picked up the pliers. “He’s your age.
Alpha. He has keys to this place, too.”
Flores nodded, frowning. “Okay.”
At the back of his mind, Gareth wondered what would happen if Flores bumped into
his son. Would Flores get along better with Sawyer? Sawyer was headstrong, and
smart. Far closer to Flores in age than Gareth was. He probably listened to the same
music and watched the same shows Flores did.
When Flores found his footing in life, would he... be happier with Sawyer? That thought
left a sour taste in Gareth’s mouth.
“Do you not get along with him?” Flores asked.
Gareth blinked himself back, looking at Flores’ unblemished face. He wished he was
younger, himself. He wished Flores wasn’t Tim Williams’ son. “Nah. Sawyer and I get
along fine.”
“You don’t look happy.” Flores frowned at the pliers, looking so troubled that Gareth
leaned in, kissing the pout off his lips.
“Just thinking, is all.” He hugged Flores closer, wondering if this was okay with Derek.
If it would be awful of him, if Derek hated this arrangement, and Gareth went ahead
with it anyway.
Then he looked at Flores’ flat belly, and remembered Flores saying, I’m keeping the baby.
Mine, something in Gareth’s chest rumbled. He brushed his wrist down Flores’ spine,
leaving his scent on his boy. His omega.
That sounded right, even if Gareth wasn’t ready to admit to it.

T HEY WERE DESPERATELY OUT of milk. Flores hurried to the grocery store, quailing
under the midday sun. Noon wasn’t the best time to be shopping—especially when he
didn’t have a car. I wish I could drive.
He’d never had the chance to learn how to. Not that it would be handy, since he didn’t
have a car anyway. But if he could grab the milk and a few other things, and just pop
back home like when Gareth gave him a ride... I’m getting spoiled, aren’t I?
Flores grimaced at himself. He was becoming overly reliant on Gareth. He shouldn’t.

Gareth had never said that this arrangement was permanent, and the visit to Gareth’s
house had just proved it.
The way Gareth had looked at his wedding ring... It was as though he wished Derek
was still around. And Flores had felt poor and incompetent in the house Gareth had
lived in with his bondmate.
He’d picked the dining room wall to work on—somewhere out of the way, so Gareth
wouldn’t have to shove things around just for Flores. Flores would create a beautiful
mural—it would be repayment for everything Gareth had done for him.
Flores sighed as he stepped into the air-conditioned shade of the grocery store. Sweat
cooled on his skin, and the colorful daisies at the entrance cheered him up. He took a
basket, heading around to the back for cartons of milk and heavy cream. Then he found
the baking aisle, grabbing some baking powder and vanilla essence.
He’d never baked a cake before, either. But Gareth had the appliances in his kitchen,
and Flores had watched a few cake-making videos on his phone. It couldn’t be too
difficult, right? Gareth would be happy that Flores made him a cake, right?
With his basket growing increasingly heavy, Flores headed back to the front of the
store, only to freeze when four alphas walked through the grocery entrance.
They were firefighters, from their navy fire department T-shirts and bright orange
pants, reflective bands wrapped around their calves. And they were alphas—they were
all broad-shouldered, muscular, a lot taller than Flores was.
Flores held his breath, scanning their faces—Gareth was the last to step into the store,
all salt-and-pepper hair, his shrewd gaze darting around them.
Flores’ heart skipped. Do I say hi? Or does he not want to be seen with me? He hovered by
the end-cap of the aisle, uncertain.
Gareth’s gaze locked onto him. In that moment, everything else ceased to matter.
Gareth said something to his teammate. Then he strode around the cashier stands
toward Flores, and Flores’ stomach did somersaults. It wasn’t every day that a
firefighter came up to you to say hi. Especially one as handsome as Gareth was.
Gareth slowed when he neared Flores, glancing into his basket. A small smile played on
his lips. “Fancy seeing you here, boy.”
“Is there a fire?” Flores blurted. “Why haven’t you gotten the hoses out and
everything?”
Gareth laughed. “No. We just stopped by for supplies. We don’t live on air at the
station, you know.”
That made sense. And now Flores wanted to visit the grocery store every time Gareth
went on duty.
“What’re you planning to make with those?” Gareth leaned in, sniffing at Flores. Flores
blushed. But he couldn’t help sniffing back. Gareth smelled like smoke and ash, and
beneath that, his familiar applewood scent.
“I’m, um. It’s a secret.”
Gareth’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah? Is it for me?”
Flores’ face grew hot. “You weren’t supposed to guess!”
“Are you... making a cake?” Gareth murmured.
Flores whined, hating that Gareth had just spoiled his surprise. Gareth grinned. Then he
cupped Flores’ nape and drew him close, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. Flores
gasped. “We’re in the store!”
“Mm-hm.” Gareth kissed him again anyway, his lips velvety and warm. Flores’ knees
grew weak. He wished they were somewhere more private. Alone at home, he’d missed
Gareth’s touch so very much.
Someone whistled. Deep voices approached. When Flores cracked his eyes open, there
was suddenly a crowd around them. Firefighters. Flores yelped, scrambling away from
Gareth.
Gareth scowled. “Damn you guys.”

“You love us,” one of them said, elbowing him. This new alpha looked slightly older
than Flores, all fresh-faced and bright-eyed. “Aren’t you gonna introduce your team?”
“Sure, Alec.” Gareth narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t I introduce you to my—to my
roommate so you can flirt with him?”
Well, that hurt more than Flores thought it would.
Alec waggled his eyebrows. “Looks like someone’s being possessive.”
Gareth scowled harder.
“Your ‘roommate’, huh?” The alpha on Gareth’s other side looked pointedly at him.
“Shut up, Dom,” Gareth muttered. “Flores, this is Dom. Our team deputy.”
Dom glanced between Gareth and Flores. He was older, too, perhaps the same age as
Gareth. The way Gareth shot a look at Dom, threatening violence, it seemed like they’d
known each other for a while.
“Hey, Flores,” Dom said. More quietly, toward Gareth, he added, “Not what I expected
from you.”
What did that mean?
“Anyway, this is Alec, and this is Jesse,” Gareth said, ignoring Dom. “Guys, this is
Flores.”
Flores waved awkwardly. Jesse and Alec nodded back. Unlike Dom and Alec and
Gareth, Flores couldn’t tell how old the last alpha was. Jesse was stocky, unsmiling, and
his entire bald head was covered in scars. So were his neck and his arms. Some of those
scars had healed badly, and some looked like craters in his skin. Then there were
strange bumps along his arms, like several tiny objects had been implanted into his
body.
Flores squirmed. “Do they hurt?” he asked Jesse.
Jesse shrugged. “It’s fine.”
His lips thinned, though, like he wasn’t happy about being asked. Flores turned back to
Gareth, uncomfortable.
Gareth slipped his arm around Flores’ waist, pulling him closer. “Jesse’s a tough nut,”
Gareth reassured him. “Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” Flores sent Jesse an apologetic look. “York’s also on your team, right?” To the
other firefighters, Flores explained, “York’s our—my neighbor.”
Gareth’s eyes darkened. His teammates shot him questioning looks.
“‘Our’?” Alec grinned.
Gareth sighed. “Flores and I were neighbors.” Before Alec could tease them further,
Gareth said, “York’s over at the station, along with our team leader Harris, and our
medics, Nate and Brad. They’re waiting for the groceries so we can make lunch.”
Gareth looked sheepishly at Dom. “We really should get going.”
“No kidding,” Alec said. “The rest of us don’t get to snog omegas on our grocery runs,
Gareth.”
Gareth glared, looking like he wanted to flip Alec off.
“Harris gets to snog Valen when we change shifts,” Jesse said mildly.
“They’re married,” Gareth explained to Flores. “Harris has an alpha and an omega.”
Jesse cleared his throat. “Pretty open-minded of them. Unlike Dom, who seems to really
like—”
“We’re getting distracted,” Dom said sharply. He shot Jesse a narrow-eyed look. “Jesse,
if you could stop speculating about me—
“Just stating a fact,” Jesse shot back. “If you didn’t keep shoving your—”
“Gareth, if you could join us in fifteen seconds, that’ll be great,” Dom snapped. “Alec,
with me. I’m not spending more time here. Welcome to the family, Flores.”
Dom stalked off, Alec trotting after him with his eyebrows crawling up. Gareth glanced
at Jesse. “Things okay between you and Dom, Jes?”
Jesse shrugged, but Flores didn’t understand the look he gave their team deputy. “Yeah,
I guess.”
“You mean, you’re together?” Flores blurted. “Like, boyfriends?”
Jesse flinched. “What? No.”
Then he stalked off in the opposite direction, leaving Gareth staring after him. “Huh,”
Gareth said. “That’s new.”
“Is something going on between them?” Flores whispered.

Gareth chewed his lip, frowning. “I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye out.” Then he focused
on Flores, brushing his thumb over Flores’ lower lip. “Gotta go, boy. Sorry I couldn’t
tell them I’m your sir. I just—It’s none of their business.”
Especially when so much of their relationship revolved around punishments and

rewards. Flores flushed. “No, it’s really not. I don’t mind.”
Well, he did, a little, but it was okay.
Gareth’s radio crackled. Someone said something across the line, but there was too
much noise for Flores to make out what it was. Gareth sighed. “And now I really have
to go.”
He cupped Flores’ face, pressing a quick kiss to Flores’ mouth. “See you tomorrow,
Flow—Flores. Text me when you get home. Don’t set the kitchen on fire.”
Flores kissed him back, savoring Gareth’s warmth. “Will do. Stay safe.”
Gareth smiled and squeezed Flores’ nape, and then he was striding toward the store
entrance, Jesse joining him from his left, Dom and Alec heading over on his right.
Then they were out of the store, climbing into a ladder truck. Flores watched his alpha
go with a mix of reluctance and pride, feeling lonely now.
At the cashier stand, someone said, “Uncle Flower!”
“Caleb! His name is Flores!”
Flores looked up. Caleb waved, pushing his glasses up his nose. Perry looked
embarrassed. Zoe was there, too, tucked into the child seat of their shopping cart.
“I’m sorry,” Perry said. “I’ve been correcting him on your name.”
Flores couldn’t say he wanted to hear that nickname, but... Gareth had been fumbling
with it, too. They were both trying. If it helped Caleb a little, maybe Flores could bear
with it. “I don’t mind.”
“See,” Caleb said. “If you and Papa can call me Tadpole, then Uncle Flower can be
Uncle Flower.”
“Tadpole?” Flores asked.
Perry laughed. “York calls me FrogPrince sometimes. He’s been calling Caleb Tadpole
for a while.”
“It’s a cute nickname.” Flores grinned. “I wouldn’t mind having it.”

“Me, too.” Perry tickled Caleb’s jaw. “So, you and Gareth, huh?”
Flores’ entire face scorched. Perry had seen that, too? “Um.” What did you even say to
that? “Gareth said York’s at the station waiting on groceries. But I guess they’re all
going on a call now. I’m sorry York wasn’t here.”
Perry looked wistful. “It’s fine. They can’t all get groceries at the same time.”
“It’d be awesome if they did,” Flores said. “All the firefighters shopping for food
together. Maybe shirtless.”
Perry laughed. “Is that your wet dream?”
“No,” Flores squawked. But if Gareth did his cooking naked, that would definitely be it.
Flores filed that away to text Gareth later.
“Did you see Uncle Carrot’s imp?” Caleb asked. “Did it run away?”
“Imp?” Perry frowned.
“Yeah, the one in his pants!” Caleb looked curiously at Flores. “The very bad person.”
Flores froze. Perry had turned to stare, and Flores wasn’t sure how to begin explaining
himself.
“Let me guess,” Perry said slowly. “It was a snake.”
Flores wasn’t sure how they were discussing Gareth’s cock while queuing at a grocery
store, but this seemed to be his life now. “Well, Caleb said it was a snake. I told him it
was an imp. But it was a bad one, so he wasn’t supposed to look at it.”
“Are there good imps, too?” Caleb asked.
Perry sighed, rubbing his face.
“No good imps,” Flores said. “Only bad ones.” Then, just in case Perry thought Gareth
was some sort of pervert, Flores added, “Gareth was embarrassed. He really didn’t
mean for Caleb to see it.”
“I believe you,” Perry said wearily. “Caleb has the strangest knack for getting himself
into these situations.”
Flores glanced down at his own flat belly, wondering if this was something he had to
look forward to when his baby grew up. He was still getting used to the idea of
something growing inside him. His womb had become a little more solid, and he felt its
presence every time he did his stretches at the barre.
When he had his baby... How would he even care for it? Could he afford it, or would he
have to rely on Gareth even more? Would he have no time left for himself? Panic began
to flutter in his throat.
Perry frowned. “Is there something wrong?”
“N-nothing. I just...” Flores gripped his basket tighter, the metal handles digging into
his hands.
Perry leaned closer, as though he wanted to hug Flores. Then he paused, sniffing. “Oh. I
thought it was just me.” He glanced at Flores’ belly. “You know, right?”
“That I’m pregnant?” Flores sagged. “I know.”
Perry winced. “You don’t seem happy about it.”
“I’m twenty-one, Perry.”
Perry winced harder. “It’s... Gareth’s?”
Flores nodded, his face heating up.
“Does he know?”
“I told him I’d keep it. He really wants a baby, I think.”
“But do you want a baby?”
Flores squirmed. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, hon.” Perry pulled Flores into a quick hug, before loading his groceries onto the
conveyor belt. “How far along are you?”
“Three weeks.”
Perry leaned around Flores, grabbing a couple bags of candy from the impulse-buy
shelves. He added it to his own groceries, then turned back to peer worriedly at Flores.
“You really don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to. Are you and Gareth...
steady?”
Were they? “We’re not exactly committed, if that’s what you mean,” Flores mumbled,
avoiding the stares around him. “I just...”
And suddenly Flores hated being Gareth’s boy, because it wasn’t permanent. Gareth had
offered to be Flores’ sir, but it wasn’t a promise like a marking on his wrist, or his neck.
Why do I have to like him so much? Gareth will probably get tired of me and move on. He’ll
realize I’m a liability.
Anxious, Flores bit his lip, waiting for Perry to make his payment. Perry gathered his
things into his cart. Caleb waved at the grocery bagger at the end of the counter. Caleb
was cute. Would all children be as cute as he was, though? Flores couldn’t remember
what he himself was like as a child.
He tried not to fidget while the cashier scanned his groceries. Then he paid with the last
bit of cash he had left, heaving his bag to where Perry waited.
“Here,” Perry said, shoving his impulse-bought candy at Flores. “Ginger drops for
morning sickness. You’ll want some of these with you just in case.”
Flores accepted the candy numbly, feeling woefully unprepared. “Thank you.”
They were walking out of the grocery store, Flores turning toward the pedestrian
crossing. “I really appreciate the ginger drops, Perry. I guess I’ll see you around—”
“Aren’t you driving?” Perry asked.
Flores paused. “I don’t have a car.”
Perry beckoned him over. “We live in the same building. Come hitch a ride.”
Feeling awkward, Flores followed him, offering to help move Perry’s groceries into his
trunk.
“You have a honey smell, Uncle Flower. Just like Daddy,” Caleb said.
Flores blinked. Perry, too?
Perry turned to stare at Caleb. “You smelled it, huh?” Perry asked his son, surprised.
“Uh-huh. Is it because you ate too much honey?”
Perry coughed, turning red. He couldn’t stop coughing. Flores thumped him on the
back, feeling even more awkward.
“I’m fine,” Perry said, his flush spreading to his ears. “I just...”
Flores sniffed at Perry. It was barely-there, but Perry did smell like honey, too. “Oh,”
Flores said. “Congrats. At least, I assume that you’d like to be expecting.”
Perry laughed, looking a lot younger than his forty-something years. “I do. Thank you.”
“Is that why you had that emergency date night?”
“Also correct.”
It probably felt really different, expecting your third child instead of your first one.
Flores wished he was half as confident as Perry was.
When the children were buckled into the backseat, and Flores had returned the
shopping cart, he slipped into the car next to Perry.
“I’m assuming it’s your first pregnancy,” Perry said.
Flores hugged his groceries to his chest, nodding. “It was the first heat I spent with an
alpha.”
“Oh, Flores.” Perry squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m sure Gareth will help. He’s a
wonderful alpha, from what I’ve heard.”
Flores looked at Perry’s wedding ring, a lump forming in his throat. The couples on TV
looked so happy when they got married. Gareth didn’t want to marry again, did he?
What could Flores possibly give Gareth to make him want Flores around forever? Sex?
Paintings?
Perry looked at him in concern. “Are things okay with you and Gareth?”
Flores jerked his shoulders. “They are for now.”
“But...?”
“But I don’t think he’ll like me forever,” Flores sighed. He’d seen old family photos of
himself with his mom. His mom had seemed happy enough with him at first, but...
she’d gradually lost interest. “I shouldn’t even be thinking this. I just... I don’t know
what to do. I want him to—to love me.”
He felt ashamed, admitting that.
Perry looked thoughtful. “What does Gareth like? Aside from you. You could make
something for him that you know he’ll really appreciate.”
Flores thought back to the wedding ring on Gareth’s chain, the family photo in Gareth’s
apartment hallway, and the forbidden room back in Gareth’s house. “He lost his
husband,” Flores said. “That’s who he loves most.”
Perry sucked in a slow breath. “Ouch. Okay. We’ll think of something.”
He patted Flores’ hand, beginning the drive home. As Perry parked, he said, “Don’t go
just yet. I might not have the best solution, but I sure have one.”
Flores brightened, his curiosity prickling. He helped to carry some of Perry’s bags,
following the trio up the elevator to the third floor.
“Over here, real quick.” Inside his apartment, Perry set Zoe and his groceries down.
Then he brought Flores over to what looked like a pantry, opening the door.
Shelves upon shelves of glass jars stared back at Flores. Honey. All of them. But there
was a variety—orange blossom, clover, lavender, and several more. Flores gaped.
“What do you do with all this?” he asked, bewildered.
Perry grinned. “It’s our way of, ah, changing things up. With imps.”
And then Flores realized that the different jars all had a common theme: they were tall.
Shorter than an alpha’s cock, but wider.
“Daddy eats too much honey,” Caleb whispered. “It’s why he smells like honey.”
Perry broke into another coughing fit. Flores cracked a smile. Oh.
“Grab a bottle,” Perry said. “Do you have a favorite flavor?”
“I can’t possibly,” Flores protested. “That’s expensive.”
Perry laughed. “Take one. Consider it a getting-together gift from me and York. Or a
good-luck gift. Either way.”
Flores didn’t think this would truly help. Gareth had been pounding him into the bed
over the past few nights, but he liked Flores just the same. At Perry’s insistence, he
picked out a bottle of apple blossom honey, cradling it against his chest.
“I’ll make the most of it,” Flores promised.
Perry smiled, ushering Flores back to the front door. “Tell me if you need anything
else,” he said.
“Actually, maybe I do.” Flores bit his lip.
There was one thing he knew Gareth would like. It involved Derek, and breaking into
that off-limits room back at Gareth’s house. “If you have time... could I hitch a ride
somewhere?”
Perry beamed. “All you had to do was ask.”

“I DIDN ’ T KNOW you were still using Facebook,” Sawyer said, his voice tinny through
Gareth’s phone. “That flower joke was pretty funny, though.”
Gareth held his tongue, unsure if he should mention Flores to his son. When he’d
brushed the dust off his Facebook account, all he’d intended was to follow Flores’ social
media updates.
Then, to check if Flores had been following him back, Gareth had posted, Why did the
flower ride a bicycle? Because he wanted to petal.
He’d thought Flores might be upset. But Flores had erupted in a fit of giggles. Sawyer
had reacted to that joke with a laughing emoji; at that point, Gareth hadn’t felt obligated
to explain himself to his son.
Would Sawyer be upset that his dad was interested in someone new? For ten years, it
had been only Gareth and Sawyer in their family. Mentioning Flores to his son... His
relationship with Flores wasn’t conventional. It wasn’t permanent.
“Just connecting with some friends on Facebook,” Gareth said, feeling uneasy.
“Ah.” Sawyer riffled through some things on his end; music played in the background.
“Anyway, I gotta go. Nice talking to you, Dad.”
“You too,” Gareth said. “Take care.”
The call disconnected. Gareth stepped out of the car, heading into the apartment
building. It was late—he’d agreed to work an extra half-shift to cover one of the other
firefighters. By the time he’d gotten off duty, the sky had grown dark. Was Flores still
awake, or had he fallen asleep?
Gareth remembered Flores’ baking supplies in the store yesterday, smiling.
The apartment was quiet when he stepped in. In the kitchen, he found a mostly-clean
counter, and the lingering scent of something burnt. A pan with a charred bottom sat
soaking in the sink; Gareth shook his head, his smile growing. Flores tried. That was
what mattered.
In the bedroom, he found Flores curled around his pillow, tucked into Gareth’s side of
the bed. Gareth’s instincts rumbled. He loved seeing Flores in his bed. It made Flores
feel like his.
Gareth climbed onto the mattress, staying outside the covers. He stank, and he needed a
shower. But first, he wanted to cuddle Flores.
Flores stirred. “Gareth?” he mumbled.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
In the dimness, Flores fumbled for Gareth, pressing a sleepy kiss to his jaw. He smelled
like minty toothpaste, and peony and honey. Gareth couldn’t help reaching under the
covers, wrapping his arm around Flores’ middle. Then he rubbed his wrist over Flores’
belly. Their baby was in there. Mine.
“I made you a cake,” Flores said. “Did you try it?”
“I thought you tossed it.” Gareth dropped kisses across Flores’ shoulder; Flores purred.
“I didn’t look in the fridge.”
Flores sucked in a deeper breath, waking up further. “Wait, it’s not so good,” he
blurted. “Maybe don’t try it. You might get poisoned.”
Gareth snorted. “You know I really need to try it now, right? You made it for me.”
He made his way out of the bedroom, Flores yelping and scrambling after him. In the
fridge, there was a square slice of cake sitting in a plastic box. The cake looked shorter
than cakes usually were.
Flores winced when Gareth pulled the lid open. “I had to cut the bottom off, it was
totally black. And the top and sides too. But it doesn’t look so terrible with the icing.
You... can’t tell that it’s burnt, right?”
Gareth stuck a fork into one corner of the cake, tasting the icing—it was sweet, with a
hint of vanilla. The cake beneath looked decent. It was dry, though, absorbing all the
moisture off his tongue. And there was a clump of flour still in there. “The icing’s good.
The cake is...”
Flores cringed, looking so embarrassed that Gareth set the cake down and enveloped
him in a hug.
“The cake’s perfect,” Gareth said. “You made it.”
“You don’t have to lie,” Flores mumbled, his ears turning red. “I tried some. I saved the
best parts for you.”
Gareth imagined Flores chipping away at the burnt bits, trying to find something
salvageable. It was such an adorable image that he hugged Flores even closer. “Fine,”
Gareth said, cracking a smile. “But you’re perfect.”
Flores turned a bright red. Gareth wanted to pin him down, show him just how perfect
he was.
“You know what,” Gareth said. “I thought of a better use for the cake. It’ll look good on
you.”
“On me?” Flores threw him a dubious glance. So Gareth pulled up Flores’ sleeping
shirt, dipped a finger into the icing, and tried to draw a flower with it. It didn’t really
work. Flores cheered up, though. “Can I use it to draw on you instead? And then...
maybe we can shower together after that.”
After the hours he’d been at work, Gareth sure didn’t mind having Flores lick all over
him. “Only if you promise to clean me up,” he growled. “With that sweet mouth of
yours.”
Flores brightened, reaching between Gareth’s legs. “I promise.”
It sounded like the perfect way to end a very long day.
“W ILL YOU TEACH ME TO DRIVE ?” Flores asked one afternoon, in Gareth’s dining room.
Gareth fought down the protest rising through his gut. “I don’t drive you around
enough?”
Flores blushed, painting spots of blue on the wall. “No, I just meant... I don’t want to
inconvenience you.”
“You aren’t inconveniencing me at all.” Why would he even think that? For the past
few weeks, Gareth had been driving Flores to rehearsals and back. On the days Gareth
was on duty, he’d made sure Flores had enough cash to pay for his cab fares.
“I don’t want to rely on you forever,” Flores said, looking down. “So I figured, since
you know how to drive, I could learn from you.”
I’ll drive you around for however long you need me to, Gareth almost said. But that wasn’t
what Flores was asking. Flores was asking for his wings. If Gareth taught Flores... it
meant Flores wouldn’t need him as much. Flores could go wherever he wanted without
Gareth knowing. And Gareth wasn’t prepared for Flores to drive away and never
return.
After Flores had texted Gareth his Instagram account, Gareth had peeked at the work
Flores posted online. Flores’ paintings were magnificent. Stunning. They’d only grown
more intricate and heartfelt with each piece, and the thousands of likes and
comments—Flores had no shortage of admirers.
“If I teach you to drive, are you gonna go visit your friends?” Gareth asked, the words
sour on his tongue. “The ones you made online?”
Flores glanced up, looking surprised. “I’ve thought about it. It’s not like I even have a
car.”
It wouldn’t take long for him to save up and buy one, though. Hell, Flores probably had
a trust fund or something that had enough to pay for his transportation.
“Are any of them alphas?” Gareth growled. He hadn’t meant to let that slip.
Flores paused in his painting. “Are you... jealous?” And maybe he sounded far too
pleased about that. “If I said I have some alpha friends and I’m going to meet up with
them?”
Gareth scowled. “I’m not teaching you to drive if you’re going to use it to find yourself
a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?” Flores blinked. And blinked again. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“What would I even do with a boyfriend?”
“Hell if I know.” That sounded terrible. Gareth didn’t even want to imagine someone
else pawing at Flores.
Mischief sparkled in Flores’ eyes. “So you’re saying, if I went and met every alpha I
knew, and I went out to dinner with them—”
“Don’t even think that,” Gareth growled, envy rumbling in his gut.
“—and then I stayed over at their place and borrowed a mattress, and maybe their
pajamas—”
Gareth stood, his teeth aching with how much he needed to possess. He was behind
Flores before he knew it, taking away his palette and paintbrush. Flores squawked.
Gareth set them on the dining table.
“What are you doing?” Flores asked. “Is this because I’m thinking about—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Gareth hissed, grabbing Flores’ arm. Then he cracked
his palm across Flores’ ass, savoring the sweet sound his flesh made. Flores cried out.
“Say that again,” Gareth muttered in his ear, grasping Flores’ ass so hard, it had to hurt.
“I dare you to say any of that again, boy.”
“We aren’t boyfriends,” Flores gasped. “So does it mean I can look for one?”
A possessive snarl swelled in Gareth’s chest. “No.”
He hooked his thumb into Flores’ waistband, shoving down the back of his pants and
panties. That creamy, firm ass sent Gareth’s blood surging south; he struck Flores’ ass
over and over, hard enough that his own hand stung. Flores panted, musk rolling off
his skin.
“But why can’t I?” Flores asked.
Gareth slapped his ass, trying to stop Flores from talking about those faceless alphas.
“Because I said so.”
Over the past weeks, Flores had been acquiring a taste for being spanked. He’d been
pushing Gareth, egging him on, just so Gareth would bend him over and punish him.
And Gareth had developed a taste for Flores’ spanked-pink asscheeks.
He shoved Flores over to the side, where there wasn’t any wet paint. Then he pinned
his boy flat against the wall and slapped his ass, again and again, until Flores all but
writhed, his chest heaving, his lips parted in little pleading whimpers.
Gareth shoved his hand under Flores’ shirt and dragged his wrist over Flores’ skin,
leaving a trail of applewood wherever he touched. Up Flores’ chest, across his nipples,
along his sides. Then he pushed his hand down the front of Flores’ pants, marking his
thighs, his balls, and his straining cock. Mine.
“You like being punished,” Gareth muttered, squeezing Flores’ cock until his spine
arched.
Flores bucked his hips helplessly, his cheek pressed against the wall, his precome
leaking onto Gareth’s fingers.
“I’ll see all the alphas,” Flores panted, his face flushed pink. “And I’ll—”
Gareth spanked him so hard, he howled. “Say that again, boy.”
“I’m not yours,” Flores hissed. “You don’t fucking own me—”
Gareth released Flores’ cock and grasped his asscheeks, pulling them apart to expose
his drenched hole. “Yeah? Says who?”
Flores wheezed, his musk so thick that all Gareth could smell was him. He was
intoxicating. Gareth pulled out his own throbbing cock, shoving his slippery tip right
against Flores’ entrance, pushing hard enough that he was almost inside. “You’re
mine,” Gareth growled.
And he plunged his cock into Flores, half of it at once.
Flores choked on his moan. He writhed, pushing himself down onto Gareth to take him
deeper—a hot, tight pressure sliding around Gareth’s cock. Gareth’s breath punched
out of him. He fucked Flores against the wall, reaching around to grasp his cock. “Who
do you belong to?” he rasped in Flores’ ear.
“Not you,” Flores panted.
Gareth growled, cramming every inch of his cock into Flores’ wet heat. Flores cried out,
opening around him.
They’d done this a handful of times, Gareth reminding Flores who he belonged to.
Flores always came fast, so eager to be Gareth’s that Gareth couldn’t hold on for long,
either. And it was the same today, when Flores arched his spine, offering Gareth his ass.
Need coursed in Gareth’s veins; he took Flores mercilessly. It sounded so good when
their hips met—loud, dirty slaps of flesh, and Flores’ ragged panting.
“Gonna leave my come inside you,” Gareth rumbled. “Mark you with it. You’re mine,
boy.”
Flores panted and tensed, his cock growing thicker in Gareth’s fist. He was right on the
edge. Gareth cupped his other hand around Flores’ tip, fucking hard against his
prostate. Flores screamed, jets of hot fluid spurting onto Gareth’s palm.
Gareth followed him over the edge, his cock pulsing, waves of pleasure rocking
through his body.
They panted together for a long moment, Gareth cradling Flores against the wall,
burying his nose in Flores’ hair. Flores smelled like peony and sweat, and beneath that,
a faint trace of honey. Gareth couldn’t resist touching Flores’ belly, where their baby
was. That was a life they’d created together.
He nosed at Flores’ ear, then down his neck, nuzzling the scent gland at the crook of
Flores’ shoulder. An overwhelming urge gripped him—Gareth wanted to sink his teeth
into Flores’ skin, mark his scent gland. Make Flores his.
But a bonding mark meant commitment. It would make Flores obliged to be Gareth’s
omega, and Gareth knew Flores had been a captive too long to want to be trapped in a
relationship this soon. Hell, Flores was young. He was almost Sawyer’s age. He had a
world of possibilities out there.
Gareth swallowed, pressing a light kiss to Flores’ scent gland instead. Then he made
himself pull out, before his knot locked them together. Flores whined.
“Not ready for that,” Gareth said.
“You’re never ready,” Flores muttered.
“Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“I’ll hurt more during childbirth, won’t I?”
Well, he would. Gareth felt bad about that, too. But if he could save Flores some pain...
He hugged Flores closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Are you planning to sign on this
mural when you’re done? I noticed that you don’t on your paintings.”
Flores frowned. “Should I?”
“I have some... ‘paint’ here.” Gareth lifted his palm, where Flores’ come had puddled.
Flores’ eyes grew wide. “You can’t use that.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because.” Flores flushed. “I’m not dipping my paintbrushes into that.”
Gareth laughed. “Who said I was gonna use a paintbrush?”
He grasped Flores’ cock, dipping his tip into the pearly fluid. Then he nudged Flores
over to the side of the painting, dragging Flores’ tip against the wall. Flores’ foreskin
brushed over his pencil lines, leaving a narrow, wet trail behind. It ran out of come
faster than Gareth anticipated, so he dipped it back into the puddle.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Flores muttered, mortified.
It took a few tries to get the vertical stroke of ‘F’ thick enough. Gareth ended up
pushing Flores’ foreskin down, dipping his exposed tip into his come. Flores groaned,
covering his face. Gareth finished off the first letter, growling when his ‘paintbrush’ ran
out of fluid. Flores’ bare tip skimmed the wall; he jerked, hissing.
“Hurts?” Gareth asked.
“It’s too sensitive,” Flores muttered. “Feels like lightning.”

“Yeah?” Gareth stroked his tip, rubbing come over it so it wasn’t dry anymore. Flores’
blush deepened.
Slowly, with his arms wrapped around his boy, Gareth drew Flores’ name on the wall,
letter by letter. Flores turned so red, Gareth thought he might faint. But his boy didn’t
once protest, and Gareth kissed up Flores’ neck, rewarding him.
It felt good, when he finally had Flores’ name all spelled out, the first letters already
dry. “Now you’ve signed it,” Gareth murmured.
“You were the one who signed it.”
“With your help.”
Flores snorted, chuckling. His laugh was beautiful, too. Gareth wanted to hold him, and
just listen to Flores like this, all tickled and happy.
“I’ll teach you to drive,” Gareth blurted. Because there was no way in hell he’d clip
Flores’ wings, alpha friends or no.
Flores turned, meeting his eyes in surprise. “Even if I visit alphas?”
“Yeah. Even then,” Gareth made himself say.
An odd, fond smile spread through Flores’ face. “You don’t look happy about that,”
Flores murmured, slipping his arms around Gareth’s waist. “I really appreciate it.”
He tiptoed to kiss Gareth on the lips, a soft caress that was every bit Thank you, sir,
except they also felt like equals, somehow.
And Gareth wanted to hold Flores for a long, long time.
Unsure how to deal with his emotions, Gareth grabbed a paper towel, cleaning Flores
up. Then he straightened Flores’ clothes, patting his ass. “You still haven’t told me what
you’re painting. It looks like a bat cave.”
“How can it be a bat cave?” Flores squawked, beaming. “You’ll see.”
“It’s not a honey shop, is it?” Gareth asked dryly.
“Are caves and honey all you can think about?” Flores wriggled his eyebrows. “I think
you secretly want to use that jar from Perry and York.”
Gareth scowled. Some time back, while he was on duty, Flores had sent a picture of the
honey jar. Perry gave us this, Flores had texted. I think we should do something nice for him
and York in return.
Gareth had been mystified. Why a jar of honey? He’d shown the text to York, and York
had looked so proud. Honey is a thing, York had told Gareth solemnly. Remember? Dip
your meat in it, and it’ll change your life.
Not in ways Gareth could foresee, but he didn’t mention it to his friend.
“Is Dom still angry with Jesse?” Flores asked. “How do they even work if they’re pissed
with each other?”
Gareth frowned, thinking. Those two hadn’t butted heads publicly ever since that day
at the store, but... there was still something charged between them. They narrowed their
eyes around each other, even though Jesse obeyed Dom’s orders when they were on-
scene.
“They’re professionals,” Gareth said. “They haven’t let it affect the quality of their
work.”
He was curious as hell about those two, though. When Gareth left the station this last
shift, Jesse was still taking his time in the locker room—and Dom had been the only A-
team firefighter who hadn’t clocked out yet. It was almost as though Jesse had been...
waiting for Dom. “I’ll keep you updated.”
Flores nodded slowly. “How come Jesse has all those scars?”
Gareth hesitated. Jesse didn’t consent to receiving them. “It’s not exactly my story to tell.
He was in a bad place before Meadowfall. Nate rescued him—Nate’s our resident ex-
classified government agent.”
Nate had brought Jesse out of a dark hell, and Jesse was supposed to recover, first.
Except he couldn’t sit still, and he’d applied for a position at the station. Harris had seen
fit to take Jesse onto their team—it had been a good decision so far.
Flores’ eyes had grown round. “You have some weird people on your team.”
“What, you’re gonna learn to drive to the station so you can flirt with them?” Gareth
asked.
Flores glowered. “No!”
“Tell me the truth,” Gareth teased. “You keepin’ secrets from me?”
Flores twitched ever so slightly, his gaze darting away. “What secrets?” he muttered,
suddenly closing off.
That wasn’t right. “You know I can read you like a book,” Gareth said, keeping his tone
light.
Flores squirmed. He glanced toward the hallway, then back at Gareth, refusing to meet
his eyes. Yeah, he was keeping secrets.
Gareth followed his glance, and Flores tensed further. His secret lay in the hallway,
then. Gareth’s bedroom? Sawyer’s? Or... was it Derek? Unease slithered along Gareth’s
veins. He didn’t want to talk about Derek. He shouldn’t want to know Flores’ secrets.
He’d already gotten far too close to Flores, and he couldn’t deal with the agony of
losing another omega.
“You’ll watch my play when I perform, right?” Flores blurted suddenly. “It’ll open next
month.”
“Yeah, ‘course I will,” Gareth said, wondering if this had anything to do with Flores’
secret. “I’ve been watching you practice. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not all that great,” Flores mumbled, fidgeting. “There’s other people there who are
better than me.”
Gareth squeezed his waist, pulling him close. “You’re doing fantastic. I’m really glad
that you’re sticking with this job, you know. I’m proud of you.”
Flores cracked a smile, but it wasn’t an entirely happy one. He rubbed his feet
together—his toenails were bruised from the hours of dance practice he’d put in, and
Gareth had massaged them whenever he could.
“I haven’t been able to put in so much time on this painting lately.” Flores glanced
guiltily at the wall. “It’s been going slow. I hope you don’t mind.”
He really was painting slower than Gareth expected. But Flores was also busy with his
dance practices, so Gareth didn’t blame him. He pulled Flores back against his chest.
“Do you want me to help?”
Surprise flickered through Flores’ face. “You can paint?”
“I can paint walls,” Gareth said dryly. “With a paint roller. Not anything like what you
do.”
“I can teach you,” Flores said, hesitant. “If you’d like.”
“Sure.” Gareth pressed a kiss to the corner of Flores’ lips. Something in his chest always
settled, whenever he held Flores close. “I’ll learn whatever you want to teach, O
Ancient Master.”
Flores cracked a smile, the shadows in his eyes fading away. “Prepare yourself,
grasshopper.”
F LORES STAGGERED out of the theater bathroom, sniffing at his clothes. This was the
second time he’d puked today. He’d managed to have the bathroom to himself both
times, but it was risky, vomiting when he wasn’t even supposed to be pregnant.
It was part of the contract he’d signed. The theater didn’t want its dancers dropping out
due to illnesses, and he was supposed to declare any health conditions before accepting
his contract. At that point, Flores hadn’t even been sure he’d keep the baby.
Now that he was... he was breaking a rule. If anyone found out, if he slipped up the
slightest bit... He would lose his leading role in the performance. And all the money that
came with it.
I’m proud of you, Gareth had said. I’m glad you’re sticking with this job.
Flores hurried back to the practice room, trying not to think about Gareth’s words, or
his suspicion when Flores had fucked up. Gareth now knew he was keeping secrets. If
Flores lost his job as well, Gareth would be even more disappointed in him.
Flores held his breath as he stepped back into the practice room—break was almost
over. To his relief, the rest of the cast was stretching or busy on their phones, so no one
paid him any attention. He sagged against the barre, gathering the scraps of energy he
had left.
“Flores?” Selena, the rehearsal director, stopped next to him. She was beta, with a
peppermint scent, and she was friendly on most instances. “You haven’t been looking
so well lately.”
Crap. Flores’ stomach twisted. He forced a smile, even though he felt so, so tired. “I just
have some things going on,” he said. “But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon.”
She narrowed her eyes, sniffing at him. Flores thanked all the gods that he’d sprayed on
more scent suppressant before he returned. “You don’t have a scent,” she remarked.
“I have terrible BO,” Flores lied. “You really don’t want to smell it.”
Selena raised an eyebrow, glancing at Flores’ belly. He was five weeks in, and his
abdomen was flatter than ever. “Sure,” she said, looking shrewdly at him. “We’ve had
to let go of some dancers in the past. You’ve been fitting in really well with the rest, so I
don’t want that to happen to you, too.”
Flores gulped, struggling to keep his grin. “I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
“Good.”
He held his smile until she finally turned away, his heart thundering like a drum. How
am I going to keep this up? What if my morning sickness gets worse? Panic marched up his
nerves like a line of ants.
He popped a ginger candy while no one was looking. Checked his phone for messages.
Gareth had sent a short text—Miss you—and Flores remembered to breathe. He
remembered his alpha’s steady touch, his reassuring presence.
A few days ago, when Flores had begun throwing up, Gareth had crouched with him in
the bathroom, brushing Flores’ hair away from his face. He’d rubbed Flores’ back,
handing Flores a mug of water to rinse his mouth. When Flores felt better, Gareth had
kissed his temple, rubbing Flores’ belly. Mine, Gareth had said.
Would you still say that if I lost my job? Flores swallowed nervously, stretching his limbs.
Or would you kick me out? That had been Gareth’s condition on forgiving Flores’ debt—
that Flores had to stay employed. Maybe I need to look for another job.
Before he could think further, the choreographer clapped for their attention. Flores
shoved away from the barre, his feet so heavy, they felt like blocks of lead.
Practice went okay—as well as Flores could make it, anyway. Forcing energy into his
limbs felt like he was borrowing from a loan shark; every minute of dance would
require three minutes of recuperation. In the evenings, Flores had been falling asleep as
soon as he stepped into Gareth’s car.
He made it through his splits and pirouettes, thankful for every moment that he got to
leave the stage. There, he braced himself for more strain on his body, his womb sitting
solidly in his belly, reminding him of its presence. His baby was in there. Gareth’s baby
was in there.
At the end of the rehearsal, Flores almost sobbed with relief. His entire body hurt. He
needed to sit down, and not get up for the next ten hours. He dragged himself out of the
theater building, waving to his cast as they passed him.
Instead of Gareth’s SUV, there was a sports car at the pickup area—Tim William’s
modified ride, and exactly who Flores didn’t want to see. Tim stepped out of the car,
frowning disapprovingly.
Flores wanted to be angry, he really did. But he didn’t have the energy to right now.
“Dad.”
Tim’s eyes dropped immediately to Flores’ abdomen. Flores’ gut clenched. He knows.
How?
“I’ve received a few reports,” Tim said, waving a sheath of papers that Flores hadn’t
noticed before. “A shitload of bad news. Do you aim to disappoint us all your life?”
Please don’t talk about the pregnancy here. Flores squirmed, glancing at the last of the cast
members stepping out of the theater. “Can we talk elsewhere?”
Tim looked like he might refuse. Except he studied the people around them, and
seemed to think better of it. “Get in.”
Flores didn’t want to follow his dad anywhere. Stepping into the smoke-filled car made
him gag. Then he remembered Gareth, craning his neck for a glimpse of the silver SUV.
“What’re you looking for?” Tim snapped, puffing on his awful cigar. Bitter smoke filled
the enclosed space. Flores wanted to retch.
“Ga—Gareth’s supposed to pick me up.”
“Ah. I told him I’d send you to that dump of an apartment.”
Flores’ heart sank. “He agreed?”
Tim scoffed. “No. I convinced him to.”
Flores cheered up slightly at that. Gareth had wanted to be here. He buckled himself
into the seat, hoping that his father wouldn’t bring him to the mansion instead. “What
did you want to talk about?”
“Your mother and I have decided on an arrangement.” Tim’s lip curled. “Instead of
being a liability to us, we’ve decided to transfer you under someone else’s care.”
Flores’ heart skipped. “Gareth?”
“No. We’ve found a few suitors on the east coast. You’re an embarrassment to have this
close. I don’t want my supporters associating us with your criminal records. The
elections are in two months.”
Flores’ breath left his lungs. “But—But I thought you liked Gareth.”
“He’s not moving away from Meadowfall. Besides, he has no use for a criminal like
you.”
Flores’ heart sank. Did Gareth know about Flores’ old records? He had to have. Maybe
that was why he didn’t want Flores as someone more than his boy. Flores’ chest
tightened. “Can I stay in Meadowfall if I change my name? And—And renounce my
relationship to you and Mom?”
Flores didn’t want that. His parents were the only relatives he had, as much as he hated
how they treated him. But if they disowned him, and if Gareth didn’t want him around,
then he’d have no one left in the world at all. Those depressing thoughts clawed up his
throat, making it hard to breathe.
“No,” Tim said. “I want you out of this place.”
So much for Tim being Flores’ father. Once upon a time, Flores had done everything he
could, trying to impress his parents. He’d wanted their love and praise, he’d wanted
their attention. When that hadn’t worked, he’d turned to drawing on walls instead—at
least that had gotten their attention for a few moments at a time. Even if it had been in
the form of yelling and scathing words.
“I’m an adult,” Flores said, his throat tight. “You can’t order me around anymore.”
“I’m sure the theater would love to find out that you’re pregnant.”
Flores’ stomach plummeted like a rock. The parents on TV wouldn’t do this to their
children. But Tim and Rissa would, and Flores had no doubt about that. His heart
thumped dully in his chest. “What do you want me to do?”
“Because I’m generous,” Tim said, “I’ll let you perform until this run is over. But you’ll
fly over to the east coast to meet your suitors this weekend.”
Flores wanted to gag. “Suitors?”
“You will marry one out of those we’ve selected.” Tim sniffed. “Consider that a
kindness.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you won’t perform again.” Tim glanced at Flores’ legs. Flores remembered his
father saying, If your bones are shattered, they will never heal straight.
His eyes burned. He wanted to say, But I love Gareth. Except if he dragged Gareth into
this... What if Tim tried to manipulate Gareth, too? What if Tim hired someone to beat
Gareth up? Or break his limbs? Or worse?
The thought of Gareth broken brought tears to Flores’ eyes. He blinked hard, looking
away. That was a vulnerability he couldn’t let his parents discover. He clenched his fists
so hard his nails drew blood, just so he wouldn’t cry, or make a sound. He needed to be
strong. And he would need to be stronger when he left Gareth.
All he needed was to complete Gareth’s gift, and then he would go. Flores gulped,
misery clogging his throat.
As they pulled up to the apartment complex, Flores blurted, “Aren’t you going to ask
whose baby this is?”
Tim’s lip curled in scorn. “I already know. You are a disgrace and an embarrassment,
child. Abort that fetus before you marry.”
I don’t want to. It’s Gareth’s.
Flores stumbled out of the car, sick to his stomach. Dad knew. Flores had to leave before
Tim decided that Gareth needed to be broken, too.
Flores hurt all over, and he didn’t think it would ever stop.
A N HOUR ago
Gareth unlocked the door to his house, stepping into the deserted living room. The
place smelled musty, and the house was silent and still. He shoved his keys into his
pocket, wandering over to the half-finished painting he’d been working on with Flores.
Not much had changed since Flores’ last visit. On Gareth’s work days, Flores would
head over to the house alone, adding to the mural in the dining room. Gareth had been
on duty yesterday—Flores had said he was here, painting. But short of a few colored
trees, the painting looked the same as it had the day before.
If you haven’t been painting, then what have you been doing? Because Flores had been here.
He wouldn’t make the trip all the way across Meadowfall, just to put colors on three
tiny trees.
“Maybe he fell asleep,” Gareth told himself. Flores had been sleeping like a log lately,
eating his breakfast and dinners half-awake.
Except... Flores had been keeping secrets, too. Which was why Gareth was here, alone,
trying to figure what his boy was hiding from him.
He breathed in deep, following the faintest traces of peony around the house. Flores
hadn’t gone into the garage. He’d just lingered around the dining table, and... there was
a trail of his scent leading into the hallway, where the bedrooms were.
His scent was strongest all over Gareth’s bedroom, as though he’d been poking around
Gareth’s things. That was fine. There was no peony scent in Sawyer’s room.
But to Gareth’s dismay, Flores’ scent lingered outside Derek’s room. Gareth paused at
the door, his hand on the doorknob. He hadn’t stepped inside in a while. There was no
reason to revisit his past. Flores had kept his promise, right?
A smudge of white paint lay on the shadowed side of the doorknob. That was new.
And there was only one person who could have left it there. Gareth closed his eyes, his
chest tight. I trusted you, Flower. You promised not to intrude.
He swallowed hard and opened the door, stepping into the room. Derek’s presence was
heavy here—it was in the clothes Gareth had bundled into bags, the files and books
he’d packed into boxes. Gareth almost expected to smell rose again.
Everything seemed untouched, save for a cardboard box with its flaps half-open. The
photo albums. Gareth had left that box unsealed so he could look at the pictures if he
wanted. He padded over to that box, opening it carefully, half-expecting it to be a mess.
But the albums inside were neatly-stacked. If Gareth hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t
have known that Flores had been here at all.
He picked up the topmost album, flipping through it. Found another smudge of white
paint. Why did you try to hide this from me? Why were you even here?
Unease and betrayal weighing him down, Gareth glanced at the rest of the things in the
room. Maybe Flores had looked through them, too, or maybe he hadn’t. Gareth wasn’t
sure how to deal with this. Wasn’t sure if he could trust Flores, if all Flores did was
break his promises and keep secrets from Gareth, prying into the parts of Gareth’s past
that hurt.
Gareth headed out of the house, disappointed and heartsore. He realized it was almost
time to pick Flores up, so he drove over to the theater, pulling into the pickup area.
Tim Williams’ car was there. Tim was leaning against the driver’s side door, smoking a
cigar. Gareth bit down a curse. Didn’t need to deal with more shit.
He got out of his car, swallowing the things he wanted to say. Why are you here? You’ve
never cared about your son.
Tim turned, eyebrows rising. “Ah, Brown.”
“What brings you here today?” Gareth kept his tone casual. Didn’t want this to blow
up.
“Just wanted a little chat with Flores.” Tim’s lip curled in distaste. “I’ll send him back.
You don’t have to chauffeur him around.”
As much as Gareth didn’t feel like talking to Flores right now, that wasn’t right. “I’ll
wait. You don’t have to sacrifice your time.”
Tim looked displeased. “It’ll be a private talk. I don’t need you listening in.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. Was there something he should know? “I told him I’d be
here.”
“I’ll tell him I sent you away.”

He’s mine, Gareth wanted to say. But that wasn’t in the agreement with Tim at all. He’d
explicitly agreed not to touch Flores, and he’d gone back on that promise, several times
over. After what Flores had done in Derek’s room, maybe Gareth really shouldn’t have.
“Odd of you to desire conversation with him,” Gareth said anyway.
“Odd of you to hover around when I tell you to back off,” Tim retorted.
“I agreed to watch him.” Gareth straightened his shoulders, the instincts in his gut
urging him to step closer and argue.
Tim scowled. “When I asked you to watch my son, ‘put your dick in him’ wasn’t part of
the agreement.”
Gareth froze, his face growing hot. Fuck.
Tim looked disgusted. “You didn’t even keep it at that. You fucking knocked him up.
He’s your son’s age. What kind of twisted deviant are you?”
“How the fuck did you even find that out?”
“I hired a PI.” Tim sneered. “Didn’t think about that when you were busy fucking my
son against the window, did you?”
Gareth didn’t want to know what kind of evidence Tim had. He felt sick to his gut. Tim
knew. That was what he’d come to talk to Flores about, wasn’t it? “What are you
planning to tell Flores?”
“None of your concern.” Tim ashed his cigar on the ground.
“He’s mine,” Gareth said.
Tim glanced over. “He was never yours. That boy’s just a disaster waiting to happen.
Letting him into your bed solves nothing.”
Gareth didn’t know how to answer that. He thought about the paint on Derek’s door,
on the photo album, and his heart ached. He remembered the hours he’d spent tangled
with Flores, their bodies joined in frantic matings. Had he just been thinking with his
cock this whole time? Why did he even care so much about Flores, if he didn’t want to
get hurt?
“Don’t forget that you owe me,” Tim said quietly. “You’ve just gone and fucked it all
up.”
Gareth wished he hadn’t been on that boat years ago. He wished he hadn’t gotten
drunk and fallen overboard. Derek had screamed. Tim had dived into the ocean and
pulled Gareth up to safety. They’d had to perform CPR on him, and it had been close.
“I’ve done all kinds of crap for you over the years,” Gareth said. “I’ve sold shit for you,
I’ve hooked you up with my connections. What more do you want?”
Tim looked thoughtful. “One last thing. Stop seeing my son.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.” Tim quirked an eyebrow. “He’s just a replacement for Derek. Find
someone else.”
Was Flores? Gareth didn’t even know.
“Go home,” Tim said. “Flores doesn’t need to be a replacement, either.”
No, he didn’t. His thoughts a mess, Gareth trudged back to his car, heading for his
apartment.
F LORES MADE it all the way to the front door before his legs gave out. He leaned against
the common hallway wall, his chest too tight. I don’t want to break up with Gareth. I
haven’t had enough of him.
He’d realized what he felt when Gareth had offered to teach him to drive. Gareth hadn’t
been happy. He’d agreed to give Flores his freedom anyway, and that would’ve been
the greatest gift Flores had ever received. Something in Flores’ chest had just... changed.
His heart had rearranged itself, cementing a space for Gareth that had been weeks in the
making.
I just want to see him a last time before I go. Weak all over, Flores gathered the last of his
strength, fishing out his key. He slid it into the lock and turned the door handle.
Inside the apartment, everything was quiet. Gareth usually had the TV on, or the radio.
Tonight, it felt as though there wasn’t anyone around. The only indication that Gareth
was home were the kitchen lights streaming into the living room.
Flores closed the front door as quietly as he could, afraid to make a sound. Is something
wrong?
He peeked into the kitchen to find Gareth sitting at the table, a bottle of whiskey next to
him. Flores bit his lip. He’d never seen Gareth drinking in the month or so he’d been
living here. “Gareth?”
Gareth didn’t answer, so he said it more loudly. “Gareth?”
Gareth looked up, blinking wearily. “You’re home?”
“I am.” Flores sagged against the doorjamb. “How are you?”
“Peachy.” Gareth threw back some amber fluid, his throat working. Flores wanted to
trace the line of his throat. He wanted to memorize all of Gareth before he packed his
things. “Sorry,” Gareth said. “I haven’t made any dinner.”
“That’s fine. I’m not hungry, anyway.” Flores dragged himself across the kitchen,
stopping behind Gareth. Then he wrapped his arms around Gareth’s strong chest,
leaning into him. Gareth smelled like applewood, and faintly, smoke and ash. Flores
closed his eyes and breathed him in, trying to burn that scent into his memory. “You
always smell like a dream.”
Gareth chuckled. “You tell that to everyone?”
“No, just you.” Flores pressed a kiss to Gareth’s shoulder, his heart heavy. Gareth drank
again, and Flores brushed his hands down Gareth’s biceps, his chest, his abs. Gareth felt
so lovely. He was strong and solid, and he always made Flores feel so safe. Flores kissed
up Gareth’s neck, burying his nose in Gareth’s hair. Then he kissed down to Gareth’s
nape, touching his fingers to the scent gland at the crook of Gareth’s neck. There was a
single bite scar there. Derek’s.
Envy flitted through Flores’ chest. Maybe in another universe, Flores would get to leave
his mark on Gareth. Maybe in another universe, Gareth would love him back. Flores
swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to Gareth’s scent gland. He touched his fingers to it, so
Gareth’s scent stuck to his skin.
When he regained some strength, Flores left the kitchen, ducking into Gareth’s
bedroom to pack his things. His clothes, his pillow, his toothbrush. Gods, he’d brought
so many things over, it was embarrassing.
He dragged his things to the front door, borrowing a bag from Gareth to store it all.
Then he returned to Gareth’s bedroom, pulling out a T-shirt from the laundry hamper.
It smelled like applewood and old sweat, and Gareth would say it was disgusting. But
Flores loved that scent. He breathed it in, cradled the shirt against his chest, and slipped
back out of the bedroom.
In the kitchen, Gareth was still nursing his whiskey. It wasn’t the image Flores wanted
to remember of him. But Gareth wasn’t paying so much attention to Flores right now—
it was a good chance for Flores to leave.
He hugged Gareth again, kissing the silver hairs at Gareth’s temple, then his stubbled
cheek. “I’ll miss you.”
“You were in Derek’s room,” Gareth said suddenly, liquor on his breath.
Flores’ heart stopped. “Wh-why do you say that?”
“You broke your promise,” Gareth said.
Yes, I know. Flores bit his lip, fear crawling up his throat. Please don’t say you hate me. He
untangled himself from Gareth, backing away. “I’m—I’m leaving.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? Going back to your parents’?”
“Further,” Flores said, his chest tight. “I’m sorry.”

Gareth looked like he was about to utter something bad. Flores’ heart said those words
would break him. I can’t stay. He hurried out of the kitchen, grabbed his bag of things,
and left Gareth’s apartment.
At his own front door, he fished out his long-unused key. He opened the door just
enough to heave the duffel bag inside. He tucked Gareth’s shirt into the bag’s side
pocket. Then Flores staggered down the common hallway, hailing a cab on his phone.
He had some money from his latest paycheck. He’d use it to get to Gareth’s house, and
finish as much of the paintings as he could. After that... Flores didn’t know what he was
going to do.
He sank onto a bench in the parking lot, waiting for his ride to arrive. Then he took the
cab to the empty house, trying not to fall asleep. He did anyway. The cab driver had to
wake him up. Flores paid, before stumbling out of the car.
At night, the house was ominous, its dark windows lit only by streetlamps. Flores
turned his key in the lock, flipping on the lights. Gareth was tipsy. That meant Flores
had at least a couple hours to paint, didn’t he?
He set to work, ignoring the weariness in his bones. He mixed some pigments, filling in
the winding road on the mural, and a few apples on the trees. He painted birds in the
sky, and the beginnings of a rainbow. Then he painted snow-capped mountains in the
distance, and a gurgling creek in the corner of the scene.
Flores checked the time a while later—three hours had passed without him noticing.
His stomach flipped. Was Gareth sober now? He hoped not. He still had to make sure
that Derek’s painting was perfect.
He set his paints aside, hurrying into Gareth’s bedroom. There, he pulled a computer
chair up against the closet, wobbling as he climbed onto it.
The painting was hidden on the topmost shelf, wrapped in a white pillowcase so it
wouldn’t be noticed. Flores brought it down gently, cradling it against his chest. At the
door to Derek’s room, Flores knocked gently. Then he stepped in, murmuring, “I’m
sorry for disturbing your peace.”
Even though he’d been in here several times, Derek’s room always made his hair stand
on end. It felt as though Derek’s spirit was around, watching him. Flores gulped. He
made his way to the open cardboard box. Pulled out the topmost photo album, flipping
to a photo somewhere in the middle.
It was a close-up picture of Derek against some trees, sunlight illuminating his hair like
a halo. But his expression—that stood out most, because he’d been laughing. He was
beautiful, and Flores could see why Gareth loved him. Flores didn’t stand a chance
against someone that happy.
He peeled the pillowcase carefully away from the canvas frame, comparing the painting
against the photograph. Unlike the photo with all its trees, Flores had chosen to paint
Derek with no background. He’d used bright colors for Derek’s blond hair, his cheeks
rosy, his eyes crinkling as he laughed.
He checked every detail—the single mole on Derek’s jaw, the earring on his right ear,
the exact fall of Derek’s wispy hair. Flores had captured it all.
Gareth would like this painting. Flores felt it in his bones.
A car door slammed outside. Then the front door clicked shut, and Flores’ heart kicked
into overdrive.
“Who’s there?” someone said. It was a deep voice, but it wasn’t Gareth’s. Flores tucked
the photo album away, pulling the pillowcase over his painting. Then he set the
painting carefully down. Couldn’t breathe.
Footsteps thudded through the house. It sounded like a large person. An alpha. Flores
desperately wanted to race across the room and shut the door, except the last of his
energy had fled.
The person stopped outside Derek’s room. Was it the PI? Then the door squeaked open,
and it was a young alpha with Gareth’s moss-green eyes and his strong jaw, except this
man had blond hair, and a mouth that looked like he smiled more than frowned.
This was Sawyer, Flores’ instincts said.
Sawyer caught sight of Flores, his eyes narrowing. “Who the fuck are you?” He glanced
at the open box next to Flores, and Flores remembered that Sawyer was also Derek’s
son. This had to look so terrible, Flores messing around with his late father’s things.
Flores scrambled backward, his heart pounding so hard it could burst. “I-I can explain.”
“Save it. I’m calling the cops.” Sawyer pulled out his phone.
“I-I know your dad,” Flores blurted. His heart almost leaped out through his throat.
“Please. Not the cops.”
Green eyes pinned him. “How do you know my dad?”

He was my lover. “I—” Flores wet his lips. “I’m his neighbor. He allowed me to paint the
walls in here. Like—Like in the dining room.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and this means you fuck around with my dad’s
things?”
Flores’ stomach twisted with guilt. “It—It’s for a gift.” His face burned.
“What the hell kind of gift is that supposed to be?”
Flores squirmed. Did it matter if Sawyer saw the painting first? What if he destroyed it?
“Please, just let me leave. I—I have the key to this house. Gareth gave it to me.”
He fumbled in his pockets. Sawyer tapped on his phone, holding it to his ear. And now
he was calling Gareth, and Flores didn’t want to see Gareth any more than he had to.
Especially not here, in Derek’s room. Gareth would get so mad.
Flores trembled, pulling his wallet out. He tried to pick the house key off his keyring,
except his fingers shook so hard, he couldn’t get it off.
“Dad?” Sawyer asked. “The person in the old house. He says he knows you.” There was
a pause. To Flores, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Flores. Flores Williams.” Flores struggled with his keyring, wincing when the metal
end bit under his nail. “Just—Just let me leave, please.”
Sawyer listened to something his dad said. Then he glanced at Flores. “You aren’t
allowed to leave.”
Flores wanted to cry. He wasn’t supposed to be in Derek’s room. At least, Gareth

shouldn’t find out until he’d seen the painting first. He eyed the window, then the door,
wondering if he had the strength to escape. Probably not.
He rubbed his face and curled into a ball, wishing he’d thought to leave this place
earlier. He wished he had everything under control. He wished he was a better person
like Derek was, instead of being himself.
Some time later, another car door slammed outside. Then the front door slammed shut,
and purposeful footsteps thumped into the hallway.
Fear and anticipation filled Flores’ heart. Was Gareth sober now? Did he realize that
Flores had removed all his things from the apartment?
Flores didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Gareth stepped through the
doorway. Then he saw the look in Gareth’s eyes, and his heart clenched.
Gareth was angry. “Where’d your things go?” he growled.
Flores shuffled backward, fear squeezing his throat. “I moved them.”
“Where?”
Sawyer eyed his father. “You know this guy?”
Gareth paused. “Flores didn’t tell you?”
“He said he’s your neighbor that you hired to paint the walls.”
Gareth’s lips moved, but no sound emerged from them. He looked incredulously at
Flores. “Seriously, Flower? My neighbor?”
Sawyer’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead.
Somehow, the nickname didn’t sting anymore when Gareth used it. It left a subtle
warmth in Flores’ chest that spoke of intimacy—intimacy that he was leaving behind.
Flores wanted to hear Gareth say that name again.
“Yeah,” he croaked, his throat too tight. “I’m moving out.”
Gareth blew out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He seemed to realize where
they were. He glanced at the photo album box next to Flores, then the rest of the boxes
in the room. His eyes narrowed. “You promised me,” Gareth said quietly, “that you
wouldn’t step in here.”
This was where Gareth lost his trust in Flores. Relationships couldn’t be built on broken
promises, after all. Flores’ heart sank. “I know. I’m sorry.” He struggled to his feet,
picking up the canvas by its bulky wooden frame. The pillowcase was still covering it.
“I just wanted to do something before I go.”
The room was utterly silent as Flores padded forward. Gareth’s gaze burned into his
skin. Flores stopped before he touched Gareth, handing the painting over. “This is for
you.”
His heart pounded in his ears as Gareth took the painting, peeling off the pillowcase.
On the canvas, Derek laughed up at them, all bright colors and joy. Flores felt like the
most insignificant person in the world.
Shock darted through Gareth’s face, then surprise, and awe. And love. That was
definitely love.
How was it that Derek got all his love, and Flores had none? Flores’ heart cracked.
Gareth stared at the painting for a long moment. Flores couldn’t watch him anymore.
Had Gareth looked at him with such softness in his eyes?
“I’m leaving,” Flores choked. “I’m marrying someone on the east coast.” He stumbled
to the door, barely remembering to blurt, “Goodbye, sir.” Then he was moving, he was
stumbling out of the house, pulling out his phone to call a cab.
In all his years of living here, Flores had lived through one heartbreak. He’d lost his
teacher, and he’d thought that would be the only time he’d be in so much pain.
But as he staggered away from Gareth’s house, the night silent around him, Flores
couldn’t help remembering Gareth’s awe as he gazed upon the painting. Gareth had
never belonged to Flores. Flores was stupid to think he’d ever stood a chance.
His heart shattered, and there was no way he could ever put it back together again.
G ARETH REELED . Derek’s picture felt like a sledgehammer to his gut. He knew that
exact moment in time. He knew the park he’d taken Derek to, he remembered their
fifteenth anniversary like it was yesterday. He knew which picture Flores had been
looking at. He’d thumbed by it so many times over the years, which was why it was the
first album in that box.
The ever-present grief in his heart cracked open, and he couldn’t breathe.
“That’s the best painting of Dad I’ve ever seen,” Sawyer said next to him, his voice
rough.
Gareth couldn’t speak. It was the best painting. They’d never had any others, but a
second one wouldn’t even come close.
Then he thought about Flores painting this picture, Flores flipping through all the
albums of Gareth’s late omega. How difficult had it been for him to see Gareth’s history
like that? For Flores to see Gareth with someone who wasn’t him?
Derek’s painting had been done with care—the lashes on his eyes, the gloss of his hair,
the creases of his lips. Flores hadn’t done that for Derek. He’d done it for Gareth, all the
while knowing how Gareth felt about his ex. How difficult had it been to paint another
omega? Someone you felt was better than you? How strong did you have to be not to
fling the canvas aside?
Why did Flores even do this?
This is for you, Flores had said.
Gareth stared at the painting, imagining Flores poring over it, his brushstrokes light, his
eyelids drooping with fatigue. He imagined Flores sneaking into Derek’s room, afraid
of Gareth finding him. Flores could have painted himself. He didn’t. He’d spent hours
and hours painting someone he knew Gareth loved, enduring his own envy and
heartache, and—
I love him, Gareth realized. He didn’t just like Flores Williams. It felt like part of his soul
had tangled with Flores, and he didn’t even know until now.
Gareth handed the painting to Sawyer, turning to chase Flores down. Except Flores had
paused at the door and he’d said, Goodbye, Sir.
Gareth’s heart squeezed. Flores had already moved his things out of the apartment. He
was marrying someone else. He’d made it clear enough that he didn’t want Gareth
back.
He’s not yours, Tim Williams had said.
Gareth rubbed his temples, torn. He should ignore Tim. He should follow his instincts.
Except Derek laughed up at him from the painting, and Gareth remembered the
accident. He remembered the horror of all that blood—Derek’s blood—all over the
road. He remembered Derek crumpled in a heap in his car, bones sticking out through
his skin. Gareth had thrown up on scene, he’d almost fainted, and he’d felt as though
someone had plucked every single nerve and bone out of his body, one by one.
For years after the accident, Gareth had felt like like a dead person walking around,
pretending to be alive. If he lost Flores, too... Gareth wasn’t sure he’d survive.
He hovered at the door, knowing he should leave Flores alone if he didn’t want to hurt
again. He should just let his love fade away. He should let Flores meet someone who
matched him better.
“Flores isn’t just your neighbor,” Sawyer said shrewdly.
“No, he wasn’t.”
“He called you ‘sir’.”
“None of your business.”
Sawyer glanced at the painting. “You aren’t going after him?”
Gareth’s laugh was mirthless. “You think I should?”
Sawyer looked thoughtful. “You’ve just started posting on Facebook lately. Like, happy
shit. Haven’t seen you doing that before. I think he makes you happy.”
Gareth huffed, closing his eyes. Flores would make him happy, but how long would it
last? When would Flores find someone he liked better? What would Gareth do if he
chased Flores down, got him, and then lost him somehow? Gareth couldn’t afford to
shatter again.
When Gareth didn’t answer, Sawyer set the painting down, pulling Gareth into a hug.
Then he left Gareth alone in the room of painful memories, and drove off.
In the silence, with an empty apartment and no omega to return home to, Gareth’s heart
fractured.
“O PENING NIGHT , guys. We’re going to rock this,” Selena said next to Flores, their
hands piled together in a giant hand-stack. The cast formed the rest of the large circle.
“Let’s go!”
Everyone cheered. Flores fought down his nerves. He hadn’t been in a big performance
in a while. He knew he could do this; they’d been rehearsing nonstop for the past few
weeks. But for some time there, he’d been looking forward to opening night. Because
Gareth had promised to watch Flores perform.
He probably won’t show up tonight, Flores thought, disappointment heavy in his chest. He
touched his hip. Under his leotard was a new tattoo—a small one he’d gotten on
impulse, right before he’d made the first visit to the east coast.
Did you get hurt? Ulric had asked when Flores’ T-shirt hitched up, revealing the
bandage.
It’s a tattoo, Flores had answered.
Ulric was one of the nicer alphas his parents had picked out—he wasn’t Gareth, but he
was decent enough. He wasn’t abrasive, and he didn’t insist that Flores had to abort the
baby. They’d met each other a couple of times; Flores had agreed to marry Ulric this
weekend.
It was happening too fast. But the surly guards Tim Williams hired left Flores with little
choice—disagree, and he’d get his legs broken. Flores had convinced himself that a life
with Ulric was better than a life where he couldn’t dance. It was nothing like what he’d
had with Gareth, but...
Those weeks were a sweet memory he kept close to his heart.
“Smile, Flores,” Selena said, giving him a pointed look.
“I’ll try,” he answered.
He couldn’t anymore, but he didn’t have the heart to argue about it right now.
He took his position in the middle of the stage. The lights dimmed. As the curtains slid
open and the music began to play, Flores sucked in a deep breath, doing a slow turn
beneath the spotlight.
The strangest prickle crept over his skin—as though he was being watched. Maybe it
was just his parents’ guards. Maybe it was the sea of eyes fixed on him. But it felt like
Gareth, it felt like his sir. His heart skipping, Flores closed his eyes, pretending that his
alpha had kept his promise.
It felt good. His lips pulled into a smile.
On stage, where everything was a pretense, Flores piled on another lie. His alpha was
here, his alpha was watching him. Everything was right again. And then he danced.
T HE CRAVING WOULDN ’ T STOP NAGGING at him. Flores sighed as he stepped out of the
cab, hurrying over to Ben’s Buns. It was four in the afternoon—near closing, and Flores
had overslept. Ben probably didn’t have any strawberry croissants left.
In a way, Flores hated Gareth for introducing him to the bakery’s strawberry
croissant—he’d been needing one since last night. He’d been salivating over the
thought of sweet strawberries between his teeth, and heavy custard on his tongue. He’d
imagined Gareth breaking pieces off the croissant, and placing it into his mouth.
Please let there be one left. Just the one. I promise I won’t let any of it go to waste.
He’d spent nine dollars on his cab fare, trying to reach the bakery in time. Flores yanked
open the door, holding his breath. And there, in the middle of the display case, was a
single strawberry croissant. None of the browsing customers had their eye on it.
“Flores!” Ben said, waving behind the counter. “You’re late today.”
Ben, the bakery owner, looked stressed. Flores kept an eye on the croissant, stepping
over to give Ben a hug. Now that he was gainfully employed, Flores had a bit of
breathing room with his monthly spending—he could afford a little treat for himself
every few days. It was how he’d come to make friends with Ben.
“I overslept.” Flores peeked at the croissant again. “How have you been?”
Ben fidgeted. “Not so great. I’ve had a couple of employees go on emergency leave.
The—” Ben lowered his voice, looking worriedly at Flores “—The bakery’s... not doing
so well. But that’s between you and me. You won’t tell anyone, right?”
Flores’ heart sank. Ben was his age, also an omega, and Flores had been under the
impression that Ben was doing well enough on his own. “I swear I won’t tell. Have you
tried... asking for help? Anyone out there?”
“I’ve got a couple of loans.” Ben bit his lip. Flores didn’t think Ben would tell him this
much, but they were close in age, and maybe... Ben needed someone to listen. Someone
he felt he could trust.
“How much do you owe?” Flores blurted.
Ben winced, glancing around. “About fifty grand.”
Holy hell, that was a lot. Even Flores’ trust fund couldn’t cover that—all he had was
fifteen thousand to his name. And it was his parents’ dirty money.
Ben sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Anyway. It’s not like that’ll disappear anytime
soon. I just... Rent’s going up and everything. It sucks.”
“I’ll help you with it,” Flores said. “I have a bit to spare.”
Ben looked horrified. “What? No, you won’t. It’s not like you’re in a good place
yourself, Flores.”
Flores shrugged. “I’m getting married this weekend. The alpha’s rich, apparently. I can
afford to spare a bit of money.”
His impending wedding sounded a little more real, when he said it like that.
“You’re... what?” Distracted from his own circumstances, Ben looked blankly at Flores.
“You’re marrying someone you don’t know?”
“Shh!” Flores glanced around, hoping no one heard. He didn’t need attention drawn his
way, either. “I’ll be fine. He’s a good guy.”
But Ulric wasn’t Gareth. Ulric had kissed Flores on the cheek, and all Flores had felt was
dread. He shoved his feelings aside.
“That’s not why you should be marrying.” Ben looked dubiously at him. “Are you
sure?”
“Yeah.” Flores shrugged. The thought of his father’s threats depressed him. So did
thoughts of Gareth. He wasn’t going to think about them right now. “Things will turn
out okay, really.”
“But—”
“Let’s talk about Ben’s Buns,” Flores said as the door chimed. “What if you raised the
price on those charity bread sticks you make for kids—”
“He’s going for your croissant,” Ben hissed, shoving a tray and a pair of tongs at Flores.
“Hurry, go get it!”
There was someone on the other side of the display island, his face hidden by loaves of
bread. The person had pulled open the acrylic flap keeping the croissant fresh. Flores
stopped breathing.
He scrambled to the nearer side of the display case, pulled open the acrylic flap on his
end, and reached in with his tongs, making a grab for the strawberry croissant. Not his
best manners, but Flores had cravings, damn it.
Their tongs clashed. The guy swore. Flores looked up.
It was Gareth.
Flores’ heart stopped, and squeezed tight. He’d thought he was getting over Gareth.
He’d thought he could put Gareth behind him. He’d thought wrong. Not when
Gareth’s gaze raked over his face, his hand squeezing around his tongs, his tongue
darting across his lip like he wanted to say something.
Gareth was clever, and strong, and Flores’ heart beat for him like it had for no one else.
“Thought you were moving to the east coast,” Gareth said.
Flores couldn’t breathe. He wanted to step into Gareth’s arms. He wanted Gareth to
hold him again. His heart yearned, and he dropped his tongs, suddenly afraid. If he
slipped up, if he gave in—Dad would hire someone to break Gareth.
Flores snatched his arm out of the display case, setting down his tray with a clatter. He
couldn’t stay. He couldn’t let Gareth see how much he wanted.
Flores darted out of the bakery, turning down a back alley, then down another, running
so fast that he couldn’t catch his breath. He ran until his legs ached and he got stitches
in his side. Then he doubled over, panting, huddling against an alley wall.
He doesn’t love you, Flores told himself. You need to remember that.
His cheeks prickled. Flores brushed at them, realizing they were wet with tears. He bit
his lip hard, shoving his hands against his eyes. I’m not supposed to cry over this. I need to
be strong. I don’t have anyone else to rely on.
He curled into a ball, hid his face, and forced himself to stop crying.
Later, when he’d composed himself, he trudged back to Ben’s Buns. It was past closing
time—Ben was probably cleaning up right now. Flores found the shop door unlocked,
stepping in.
Ben was pulling trays from the display cases; he looked up in surprise. “What
happened?” Ben asked, curious. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
Flores jerked his shoulders. “Long story.”
Ben set his trays down. Then he reached under the counter and pulled out a disposable
box—the strawberry croissant was inside, packed just like when Flores had received his
very first one. Flores stopped breathing.
“He paid for it,” Ben said hesitantly. “He said to leave it for you.”
Gareth had bought the croissant for him. Gareth still cared. Flores’ heart hurt. I’m
supposed to be marrying Ulric, Gareth. I’m not supposed to love you even more. “O-oh.”
“You don’t want it?” Ben frowned, handing the box over.
Flores swallowed hard. His hands shook when he took the box, cradling it against
himself. He wished he could preserve the croissant forever. He wished he hadn’t seen
Gareth this close to his wedding, so he wouldn’t remember what he was leaving
behind. He wished he didn’t have to hurt so much. “Thanks.”
“What’s up with you and Gareth?” Ben asked. “Is something wrong?”
Everything is wrong. Unable to hold back his misery any longer, Flores cried.
“H EY , Gareth. Is there any chance you’ve been, uh... downtown lately?” Alec stopped
next to Gareth in the station garage, pretending to examine the ladder truck’s array of
dials.
Somehow, despite the boulder on his heart, Gareth snorted. Twice a month, Alec asked
him the same question. “Ben’s fine. He’s worried about something, but he hasn’t lost
weight yet.”
Alec flushed, looking away. “I—I wasn’t asking about Ben.”
“Then you wouldn’t be interested in the new alpha he’s—”
“What new alpha?” Alec scowled.
“The one he just hired,” Gareth said dryly.
“Oh.” Alec puffed up his chest, looking so deeply unhappy that Gareth almost smiled.
It was a relief, focusing on someone else aside from Flores. Two nights ago, Flores had
performed on opening night, and he’d been... gorgeous. He hadn’t smiled at first, and
Gareth had worried for him.
Then the softest smile had spread across Flores’ lips. Gareth’s pride had been
bittersweet; his boy didn’t need him to smile. Flores could do it on his own now.
Gareth had watched every minute of the performance. When the cast had gathered at
the end to bow, the crowd had given them a standing ovation. Gareth had stood along
with them, his heart almost bursting. He’d wished he could’ve reached out, kissed
Flores, and told him how beautiful he was.
Instead, he’d sent a large anonymous bouquet to the entire cast the next day. Flores
probably hadn’t thought much of it, but Gareth didn’t mind. It eased his heartache a
little.
“If you like Ben so much, go work for him,” Gareth said.
“I don’t like him,” Alec muttered. His blush deepened—he so liked that omega. “He’s
my stepbrother.”
“Ah.” Gareth felt slightly bad for him. Alec was in his early twenties; he was
headstrong, and he shot his mouth off before he really thought about things. To have a
crush on your stepbrother, though... That had to suck. It sure explained why Alec had
been asking about Ben, ever since he learned that Gareth visited the bakery every so
often.
“It’s not like you’re actual blood relatives,” Gareth said. “Pretty sure you can marry
him.”
Alec’s face turned a bright tomato red. “I’m not!”
“Does someone need a jar of honey?” York asked, strolling by.
“Alec does,” Gareth said. “Show Ben your moves, son.”
“I’m not gonna,” Alec spluttered.
As though he’d sniffed out a new victim, York headed over with a grin, slinging his arm
around Alec’s shoulder. “Honey solves everything,” York said. “Right, Gareth?”
Gareth had nothing to say to that. The jar of apple blossom honey sat unopened on his
kitchen counter, a reminder of everything he’d fucked up.
York frowned. “Wait, have you even used it?”
“I broke up with Flores,” Gareth admitted.
York and Alec stared. “You’re kidding,” York said. “I thought you really liked him.”
“You never fuck up,” Alec said. “Are you an impostor?”
Gareth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I may as well be. He’s moving away
and marrying someone else.”
Both younger alphas looked incredulous. “You’re just gonna sit and watch it happen?”
Alec asked.
“You told me not to let my omega go,” York added.
The thought of another alpha claiming Flores made Gareth want to snarl. Mine, his
instincts said. In the bakery yesterday, Flores had stared at Gareth, and his eyes... Flores
had wanted Gareth. Gareth’s heart had yearned.
Except Gareth knew that Flores had found better elsewhere. He’d found a younger
alpha, someone better suited to him.
“I have my reasons, all right?” He turned away, his chest aching, tired of thinking about
that omega.
The station alarm rang. The rest of the team hurried to join them in the garage.
“You might want to sit out on this one, Gareth,” Dom said quietly. “Car accident. Two
dead. An alpha and an omega.”
Gareth stopped breathing. Dom always warned him ahead of time whenever there was
a car accident, and Gareth always went anyway. Except right now, he didn’t want to
think about showing up on scene, and having that omega be Flores. It had been bad
enough with Derek. He couldn’t lose another omega.
He wet his lips, his heart pounding. “Have they been ID’ed?”
“Not yet.”
Fear coiled through Gareth’s chest. Dom shook his head. “Stay. I’ll text you when we
find out more.”
“No, I’ll go.” Whoever the casualty was, Gareth couldn’t just stay behind. Especially if it
was Flores. His stomach shriveled. He tried not to think. He shoved his emotions down,
climbing into the truck with the other guys.
Alec squeezed Gareth’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine, old man,” Alec whispered.
Gareth’s anxiety only grew.
They reached the scene minutes later, sirens wailing. Cars were stopped on the other
lanes. Gareth followed his team out of the truck, his heart pounding in his ears. It
couldn’t be Flores. It just couldn’t.
In the distance, he saw one of the guys lift someone small and dark-haired off the
asphalt. Flower? Gareth’s heart clenched. The victim was thin, pale, and he looked so
much like Flores that Gareth couldn’t breathe. Can’t be him. It can’t.
He struggled to take a step forward, but his legs could barely move. I need to get there.
Need to see if it’s him.
Gareth forced his feet forward, step by step, his stomach squeezing so tight he felt like
he might throw up. There was blood on the ground. The other firefighters had gathered
around the scene, hiding the victims from Gareth’s view.
If that was Flores in the accident, if that was Flores limp in Nate’s arms, if Gareth never
got to see him smile again... Gareth’s heart squeezed so tight, he thought it might break.
In the years after Derek’s death, Gareth had consoled himself with the fact that he’d
gotten to spend years with his bondmate before they parted. But Flores—Gareth had
only had a few weeks with him, if that. Gareth had never made Flores his omega, he’d
never given Flores half the things he’d given Derek, because he’d been afraid. And that
was wrong, because Flores was perfect, and he deserved everything in the world, too.
I shouldn’t have let him leave, Gareth thought, his heart on the verge of shattering. I
should’ve told him that I love him. See if he wanted me. I should’ve just stopped being a coward.
Because now that he was facing his worst fears, now that Gareth faced the very real
possibility of never holding Flores again, never hearing him laugh, never witnessing
that softness in his gaze, Gareth’s only regret was not keeping Flores by his side for as
long as he could. Gods, I’m sorry, Flower.
If that wasn’t Flores in the accident, if Flores was still alive somewhere in the world, if
there was a chance that he wanted Gareth as his alpha... Then Gareth would do
everything he could to win Flores back. Because Flores had become part of Gareth’s
reality, he’d mended Gareth’s heart just by being himself, and Gareth hadn’t realized it
until now.
Gareth pushed between his teammates, looking at the limp bodies of the accident’s
casualties. There was a crumpled-up alpha, and a broken omega.
Not Flores.
Relief surged through Gareth like a tidal wave, sweeping away the fear and anxiety in
his heart. Gareth gulped, blinking away his tears. Flores was still alive. There was still a
chance for them to get back together.
“You okay?” Dom asked.
“Yeah,” Gareth croaked. “Just—Just have something in my eye.”
Dom clapped him on the back, looking concerned. “Good. We’ve got your back if you
need anything.”
Gareth nodded. The minute he got off duty, he needed to find Flores. Ben had said
Flores was getting married tomorrow. All Gareth needed to do was to fly across the
country, and find his omega. Hopefully before Flores gave himself away.
“I S it your life’s goal to get married?” Flores asked as the limousine drove through the
outskirts of New York City.
“No,” Ulric answered, picking at his suit. “Is it yours?”
Flores shrugged, glancing down at his own shimmering dress. It was a beautiful white
gown, all sequined with a long train, altered to fit him. The thing was, he didn’t feel any
joy in wearing it at all.
When he’d first begun thinking about weddings and permanent bondings, Gareth was
the only alpha who had featured in his fantasies—he still was.
Flores had imagined Gareth waiting for him at the end of the aisle, he’d imagined
Gareth biting his scent gland, putting a ring on his finger. He’d imagined Gareth
bringing him home, holding Flores like he mattered, calling Flores My omega. For the
past few nights, Flores had been pulling those thoughts around himself, pretending that
Gareth was holding him while he slept.
His heart heavy, Flores pushed those thoughts away. In half an hour, he and Ulric
would stand before an altar, committing their lives to each other. What sort of future
that would be, Flores could only guess. All he knew was that it would never compare to
anything like the moments he’d shared with Gareth in that Meadowfall apartment.
Ulric looked just as uncomfortable in his wedding attire. He wasn’t much older than
Flores, and he was pale, a little chubby. He was nice. Too nice, probably—nothing like
Gareth with his sharp smiles and his punishments.
Deep down, Flores knew Ulric wouldn’t pin him against a wall. He wouldn’t give
Flores hot kisses or heated looks, he wouldn’t love Flores like Ga—Well. Gareth didn’t
love Flores, either, so. There was no difference there.
He touched his belly, breathing out a quiet sigh. At least he still had part of Gareth with
him. If Gareth wanted to see their baby, that meant... Flores would get to see Gareth
again, right? Hope fluttered in Flores’ chest.
Ulric looked at him for a long moment, before asking, “If you had a choice to marry,
would you?”
Flores squirmed. “Would you hate me if I said no?”

Ulric huffed. “I’d rather not, either, to be honest.” Before Flores could answer, Ulric
flushed and added, “I prefer alphas. Sorry.”
“Alphas?” Flores blinked. Was that possible? Alphas loving other alphas? “Is that a
thing?”
Ulric shrugged. “Beats me. I’m honestly not sure I could knock you up. That’s how
much I prefer alphas.”
“Oh.” Flores wasn’t sure if he should feel offended. But then he remembered Dom and
Jesse back in Meadowfall, and maybe... it wasn’t so strange, after all. People just didn’t
talk about it so much. “I’m sorry you have to marry me.”
Ulric smiled crookedly. “I should be the one saying that to you.”
They sat in silence for the rest of the drive, an easy companionship that was more suited
to friends, instead of lovers. Flores touched his hip where the tattoo was.
At the town hall, Ulric helped him out of the limo. Flores trudged up to the looming
building, wondering what Gareth was doing back home. If it mattered to him that
Flores would be someone else’s after today.
Mine, Gareth had growled, and he had traced his scent all over Flores’ skin. Flores’ chest
grew tight.
It was a quiet ceremony, with a handful of guests in a too-large room, and chandeliers
hanging from the ceiling. Ulric’s parents were there, along with a few of his relatives.
The minister waited with Ulric at the end of the aisle. As the music began, Flores began
the walk, his parents’ hired guards flanking him.
The aisle felt too long, and too short at the same time. Flores’ feet were leaden as he
trudged down the carpet, everyone’s eyes on him. It felt like a bad dream. Like
something he would regret. He wished Gareth were here.
He walked as slow as he could, waiting for something to happen, anything, like it

always did in movies.
Nothing happened.
This wasn’t a movie. It was real life, and Flores had made his decisions. He couldn’t
expect Gareth to save him, over and over again.
He reached the end of the aisle, his throat tight as he stopped next to Ulric. Ulric held
Flores’ hand, a quiet apology and solidarity in his eyes.
It wouldn’t be the worst marriage in the world, and yet. It was still all wrong.
The guards stepped to the sides so they wouldn’t obstruct the guests’ view. The
minister began to speak. Flores looked at the tiny bouquet of baby’s breath in the
minister’s pocket, wondering if he should’ve done more to stay by Gareth’s side. If he
should’ve just spent his own trust fund, maybe hired his own PI or guards or
something so Gareth wouldn’t be as hurt if Flores’ father decided to attack him. There
was still time for that.
Flores tried to imagine his life with Ulric. It would be bleak. Ulric wouldn’t touch him,
not like Gareth had. Ulric wouldn’t try to make Flores smile, he wouldn’t do crazy
things—watch Flores’ audition, hide him from a PI—he wouldn’t wrap himself around
Flores like Gareth had, all fierce and protective.
Flores’ heart ached with how much he missed Gareth. He didn’t want his legs broken,
he didn’t want to stop dancing forever. But if doing that meant he could stay close to
Gareth, if sacrificing his legs meant he had a chance to hug his alpha, see Gareth smile...
Maybe it didn’t even matter that Gareth didn’t love him, as long as Flores could see his
alpha again.
“Flores Williams,” the minister said. “Do you take Ulric O’Neil to be your lawful alpha
from this day forward?”
Flores met Ulric’s resigned gaze, and imagined how terrible they would both feel years
into their marriage. He imagined being stuck on the east coast, only managing a visit
back home when he could. He imagined not even being close to Gareth, and he knew he
couldn’t go on with this.
He wet his lips, acutely aware of their audience—Ulric’s parents and relatives, people
who had gathered to see them marry. Then there were Flores’ guards. Could he outrun
them? At least until he got to Meadowfall?
“Flores?” the minister prompted.
The chamber doors slammed open. Flores jumped. People turned to look.
At the end of the aisle stood an alpha, strong, broad-shouldered. He was dressed in a T-
shirt and jeans, and his chest heaved like he’d been running, his eyes locked onto Flores.
It was Gareth.
Flores’ heart stopped. It couldn’t be. They were in New York, and Gareth couldn’t
possibly have flown all the way here. “Is this a dream?” he asked weakly, refusing to
believe his eyes.
“It’s not.” Ulric looked from Gareth to Flores. “You know him?”
Gareth moved, and so did both of Flores’ guards. Gareth was outnumbered. With a cry,
Flores leaped forward, tripping over his wedding dress. His stomach lurched.
Gareth darted toward Flores. But Ulric caught Flores’ arm, steadying him. Gareth
faltered. Then he looked at Flores, and the expression on his face—dread, disbelief,
loss—it made Flores’ chest squeeze tight.
The guards strode up behind Flores, heading for Gareth. Flores yanked up his dress
hem and sprinted, meeting Gareth halfway down the aisle. He caught Gareth’s large
hand. “You need to leave,” Flores gasped, trying to pull Gareth toward the exit. “You
can’t stay here, they’ll hurt you.”
Gareth’s gaze burned. Then he cupped Flores’ nape and leaned in, and his lips brushed
hot against Flores’ mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss. All of Flores’ nerves sang.
“I love you,” Gareth murmured, sniffing at Flores. “Am I too late? Are you—Are you
married?”
The entire world stopped. Flores couldn’t breathe. “What?”
“I need to claim you, Flower. Tell me I can,” Gareth growled against his mouth,
squeezing Flores’ nape ever so slightly. “Please. Let me be your alpha.”
My alpha? It still felt like a dream. But the guards were closing in, and they had no time.
“Alpha,” Flores whispered, offering his neck to Gareth. It didn’t matter anymore if this
was real. He’d been waiting for Gareth to ask him for so, so long.
Gareth’s gaze scorched all the way into Flores’ soul. Then he sank his teeth into Flores’
scent gland, sharp points of pain that twisted with pleasure, jolting down Flores’ spine.
Flores’ entire body arched with bliss. Gareth is marking me. “Gareth—”
“Mine,” Gareth growled, stroking his wrist down Flores’ back. “I’m gonna bring you
home.”
Flores whimpered, yearning filling his heart. “You’re not supposed to do this.”
But Gareth had claimed him. Gareth was his alpha now. Gareth gazed down at him, a
smile tugging on his lips. For the first time in a long while, Flores felt as though he was
home again. Gareth was his home and safe place. Flores should have realized it a long
time ago.
Flores tensed when the guards strode up, looming over them. Ulric darted between the
guards. “Hold up. We’re going to iron this out. No fighting.”
Ulric. Flores’ face burned. He’d completely forgotten about the wedding. And he’d let
Gareth mark him, right in front of Ulric and his family.
Gareth straightened, stepping protectively in front of Flores. But Flores wasn’t the one
who needed protection. So he slipped into the middle of all four alphas, ignoring
Gareth’s low growl of protest.
Flores held his arms out to keep his guards away. “You won’t hurt Gareth,” he told
them. “You can break my legs if you want, but you won’t touch my alpha.”
“What the fuck?” Gareth muttered. “Tim threatened to break your legs?”
The guards exchanged a glance. The situation had changed; they needed input from
Tim Williams before they could act. Flores held his breath.
“Flores?” Ulric asked.
Guilt swamped Flores’ gut. He turned, meeting Ulric’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Flores blurted,
his face hot. “I just... I can’t do it. I’m sorry to have gotten your hopes up. And the rest
of your family. But I can’t love you the way you deserve to be, Ulric.”
Ulric stared at him for a moment. Then he glanced at Gareth, and cracked a smile. “At
least one of us has an alpha. Get going. I’ll deal with this.”
Flores cringed. That would be terrible of him, leaving messes for others to clean up. He
stepped forward, pulling Ulric into a hug. “If you need anything at all, you know my
number.”
“Have an alpha to recommend?” Ulric asked.
Flores cracked a smile. “I might know some.”
Ulric hugged him tight. “Take care. I learned something new today. Having an alpha
crash my wedding is pretty damn awesome.”
“You should’ve invited someone to crash this wedding along with Gareth,” Flores said.
“Then you could’ve eloped or something.”
Ulric laughed.
“That’s enough,” Gareth growled, sliding his arm between them to peel Flores away
from Ulric. “You’re calling off this wedding, right?”
Flores exchanged a look with Ulric, nodding. “Don’t try to marry another omega,
okay?” Flores said. “I realized something today. You’ll regret it if you marry someone
you don’t love.”
Ulric smiled. “I’ll take that to heart.”
Then Gareth swept Flores into his arms, wedding dress train and all, and carried him
away.
F LORES CLUTCHED his dress train against his chest, hurrying next to Gareth on the
crowded streets. It didn’t help that Gareth’s legs were so long. “What’s the big rush?”
Flores yelped. He felt far too conspicuous, his white dress shimmering in the sunlight.
“Getting clothes for you.”
“I have my things here in a hotel room.”
Gareth growled. “We’re not going back there. I want some privacy. Gonna claim you
good and hard before we go home.”
Heat swooped between Flores’ legs. Oh. He’d figured that they’d tangle in bed at some
point, but not this soon. His entire body tingled. “Yes, sir,” Flores said breathlessly.
Gareth’s gaze darkened. “Yeah? You want to be my boy again?”
“Yes.” Flores blushed. Before, they’d used sir and boy, but those names had been a
means for them to keep their distance. Now that Gareth had given Flores a bonding
mark... Would things between them be different? “Did you mean what you said?”
Flores mumbled, his stomach flipping. “Back at the town hall, when you said you love
me...”
Gareth tugged Flores down a side alley, where there was no crowd. Then he turned to
face Flores, brushing his fingers through Flores’ hair. “I’ve loved you for a while,”
Gareth murmured, his gaze soft. “Didn’t realize what it was until the day you left.”
Flores’ heart skipped. “But... I’m nothing like Derek,” Flores blurted, his heart sinking.
“I’m not rich like you are. I can’t even drive. I’m just... no one.”
Gareth narrowed his eyes, cupping Flores’ face, tipping his face up so their eyes met.
“You aren’t no one. You mean the world to me, okay? Doesn’t matter if you can’t drive,
or if you’re just starting out in life. I don’t expect you to have everything together.”
“But I’m not perfect—”
Gareth kissed him softly. “Yes, you are. You try your best, Flores. You get things done,
even if it’s something that’ll kill you. And you’re so beautiful when you smile.”
Flores held his breath, trying to tell if Gareth was lying. But there was only honesty in
Gareth’s eyes, as incredible as that was. “You really want me.”
“Yeah.” Gareth cracked a smile. For a second, he looked uncertain. “If you’ll have me.
I’m broken and crabby. I don’t know so much about the music you listen to, or the
movies you watch. I’m not young like What’s-his-name is.”
“Ulric?”
Gareth growled. “The one you’re not marrying.”
Flores huffed. “Are you... jealous?”
“I’ll do anything to keep you by my side. Just saying.” Gareth narrowed his eyes.
Warmth filled every corner of Flores’ chest. He fought against the disbelief still
surrounding him. “I’m not marrying Ulric,” Flores said. “He doesn’t feel right at all.
You do.”
Gareth’s mouth twitched. “Even if I’m twice your age?”
“You aren’t that old.” Flores kissed him. “You know what Instagram is.”
“Brat.” Gareth laughed, slapping Flores lightly on the ass.
Flores’ nerves lit up. This, too, felt the same as before. Except things were also different
now.
“Must’ve been that night in the rain that I fell in love.” Gareth caressed Flores’ nape.
“You were dancing with Caleb. So damn gorgeous, Flores. Same on opening night. I’m
proud that you learned how to smile—”
Flores stopped breathing. He remembered the prickling on his skin, Gareth’s soothing
presence that Flores had thought he’d imagined. “You came to my show.”
“I made a promise, didn’t I?” Gareth smiled crookedly. “‘Course I was there.”
“I just... I thought I felt you watching me.” Flores blushed, his heart swelling. “That’s
why I was happy. I was just pretending you were there. I didn’t know you actually
were.”
Gareth looked so pleased. “Gods, Flowe—Flores. Sorry.”
“No, call me Flower. Please.”
Gareth’s eyebrows crawled up. “But you said...”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Flores leaned into Gareth’s chest, breathing in his
applewood scent. “Not when you say it.”
“Flower,” Gareth rumbled in his ear. It spoke of intimacy, and love. Flores shivered,
something in his heart settling. “Gods, there was a car accident yesterday,” Gareth said,
his breath hitching. “For a moment there, I thought you were one of the casualties. I
thought I’d lost you. I was so fucking scared.”
He wrapped his arms around Flores, holding him close—the second time he’d hugged
Flores today. Flores couldn’t get enough of it. “I’m here,” Flores murmured. “You won’t
get rid of me so easily.”
Gareth chuckled, kissing his temple. “I’ll make sure you won’t run from me again.”
Unlike his father’s threats, Gareth’s words made Flores smile. “Does that mean you’ll
tie me down?”
“Maybe.” Gareth hummed. “You like it when I watch you dance, huh?”
Flores nodded. “I like everything you do.”
Gareth growled, dragging his wrists down Flores’ clothes. “Yeah? Feels good when I
mark you, too?”
Flores purred, sliding his arms around his alpha. He wanted to get closer to Gareth, he
wanted to give all of himself to his sir. “You feel good. So... so when I go back to being
your boy, will any of this change? Because we weren’t committing at that point.”
Surprise flickered through Gareth’s eyes. “You think it’ll change?”
Flores shrugged, embarrassed. “Is it possible for us to be sir and boy, and alpha and
omega at the same time?”
Gareth’s smile turned warm and thoughtful. “I think so. I’ll love you just the same.”
Relief seeped through Flores’ bones, taking his worries away. “I love you too, you
know.”
Gareth kissed the top of his head. “Yeah, I know.”
He does? Flores blushed, hiding his face in Gareth’s chest. “I thought you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Regret flickered in Gareth’s gaze. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
“I thought you only loved Derek,” Flores mumbled, squirming. “It’s why I did that
painting—”
“Gods, Flower. That painting.” Gareth hugged Flores so tight, he couldn’t breathe. “You
didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted you to love me.” Embarrassed, Flores looked away. He’d never felt so
vulnerable until he met Gareth.
Gareth kissed the top of his head. But he looked torn. “I already loved you. I just... How
insanely difficult was it for you to paint him? I can’t even imagine... I’m sorry I
mouthed off at you. I shouldn’t have.”
Flores bit his lip, his guilt easing. “I’m sorry for prying and breaking my promise. I just
wanted to make something for you that you’d love. And then you looked at it and I... I
didn’t think you had any love for me, it was all for Derek.”
Gareth tipped Flores’ face up. In his gaze, Flores read a fierce love. All for him. And
Flores couldn’t breathe.
“Derek will always be part of my past,” Gareth murmured. “But you’re my present and
my future, Flower. There’ll always be a huge part of my heart that’s just for you.”
Flores choked up, his vision going blurry. Gareth really loves me.
Gareth cupped his face and pulled him close, kissing his tears away. Then he kissed
Flores on the mouth, and Flores was crying too hard to kiss him back.
After spending so long without his alpha, after yearning for Gareth’s love, receiving it
all felt like the greatest gift in the world.
T HE MOMENT the hotel room door clicked shut, Gareth pressed Flores up against it,
sealing their mouths together in a deep, toe-curling kiss. Flores’ blood surged south, his
entire body burning for his alpha.
“Gareth,” he gasped, arching.
Gareth slapped him lightly on the thigh, sending a jolt through Flores’ nerves. “Try
again. Who am I?”
“Sir,” Flores whimpered, his cock straining behind his dress. “Please.”
Gareth’s gaze darkened; he squeezed Flores’ ass to reward him. “Good boy.”
The nickname made Flores’ throat go dry. He hadn’t been touched by his sir in such a
long time. He hadn’t been claimed properly, and every inch of Flores’ body needed to
be marked, all over again. He rubbed himself against Gareth’s solid front, panting
against Gareth’s mouth. “Sir, more. Please.”
“Fuck,” Gareth whispered, hitching Flores’ dress up his legs, then his hips. He squeezed
Flores’ lace-clad ass, his musk coiling between them. “What do you want, boy?”
“Touch me.” Flores took Gareth’s hand, pushing it down between his legs.
Gareth swore, grasping Flores’ cock and balls through his panties. Pleasure hissed
through Flores’ nerves; he bucked his hips helplessly, chasing his pleasure.
“You’re so damn sensitive, every time,” Gareth growled. Then he slipped his fingers
against the crease of Flores’ thigh, following it under the lace, right where Flores’
delicate sac was. Gareth massaged Flores’ balls, pulling the lace aside to let them hang
free, exposed. Embarrassed, Flores squirmed, his cock growing achingly hard.
Gareth chuckled darkly, thumbing Flores’ cock through the rough fabric—a light,
teasing touch. “Looks like we need to calm you down, Flower. Don’t want you shooting
all over the floor.”
Flores whined in protest. “You’re going to deny me?”
“No.” Gareth slid his tongue into Flores’ mouth, claiming him inside. Flores’ knees
grew weak. Gareth knew just how to stroke him to steal his breath, he knew that Flores
loved when he sucked on Flores’ lower lip. Flores sagged against the door, the
stimulation from Gareth almost too much to bear.
Gareth broke the kiss. He pressed kisses down Flores’ chest, down his belly, sinking to
his knees in front of Flores. Then he froze, staring at Flores’ hip. “What’s this?”
Flores panted. “Oh. The tattoo?” He blushed, pulling the dress up to reveal it fully. “It’s
an apple. But it’s actually your name. See this line here?” He traced the outline of the
apple. “That’s a G. Then it curves back in, and the rest of the letters are in here, they
kind of look like weird apple seeds. I didn’t want anyone to realize it’s your name. I...
had it done before I came here. I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”
For a moment, he thought he might’ve gone too far, and Gareth would say he was crazy
or something. Flores held his breath, his heart thudding.
Gareth stared at the tattoo, tracing his fingers over the black lines. A slow, pleased smile
crept across his lips. “You put my marking on yourself.”
Relief spread through Flores’ chest. Gareth likes it. “I did.”
“Mine,” Gareth growled. He kissed the tattoo, a soft whisper of damp lips. Then he
kissed down to Flores’ panties, peeling the waistband open so Flores’ cock shoved out,
thick and flushed, his tip pushing hungrily past his foreskin. Flores blushed, wishing
his body didn’t broadcast his desire so readily.
But Gareth’s smile only sharpened. “You like being my boy,” Gareth rumbled, kissing
up Flores’ cock to his tip. Flores leaked onto his lips; Gareth lapped up that smear of
fluid, bringing it into his mouth to roll it across his tongue. Flores groaned. His precome
was all over inside Gareth’s mouth now—it felt like he was leaving his marking on
Gareth, in his own way.
“Gonna reward you for that tattoo,” Gareth murmured, licking over Flores’ tip.
He followed the edge of Flores’ foreskin with his tongue, before pushing beneath it.
Flores’ skin clung to Gareth, a lewd outline as he licked all around Flores, pushing his
tongue deeper, pulling out, and pushing it back in, like he was claiming Flores’ cock.
Flores whimpered, heat sweeping up his neck.
“You like that?” Gareth smiled. “When I make love to your sweet cock?”
“Yes,” Flores groaned, rocking his hips up, trying to push his cock into Gareth’s mouth.
“I want your marking all over me, sir.”
Gareth’s pupils dilated. He flicked his tongue against the tight slit at Flores’ tip, before
taking Flores into his hot, wet mouth, sucking hard. Pleasure shot down Flores’ nerves;
he bit down on his palm, trying to quiet his moans.
Gareth tugged Flores’ hand away, his gaze scorching right to Flores’ core. “Don’t cover
your mouth. I want to hear every sound you make.”
Then he took Flores back into his mouth, sucking down every inch of Flores’ cock.
Flores shuddered, his cock aching, pouring precome down Gareth’s throat. His alpha
was hot and tight around him, and pleasure sang through his nerves.
“S-sir,” Flores hissed, his spine bowing, his balls pulling tight. He tried not to rut at his
alpha, he really did. But Flores’ hips bucked of their own accord. Gareth swallowed
around him, a hot, hungry pressure that demanded his come. Flores wheezed.
Gareth pushed his fingers past the lace of Flores’ panties, grasped his cheeks, and
spread them wide open, exposing Flores’ hole. As though he was about to stretch it
open.
Flores choked on his moan, his climax pounding through him in a wash of bliss. He
shook and writhed, his cock pulsing, his come spilling into Gareth’s mouth.
In secret, Flores loved coming all over Gareth’s tongue. It felt like he was leaving part of
himself in his alpha, especially when Gareth swallowed and licked his lips.
“Good boy,” Gareth rumbled. He released Flores’ cock, now flushed and glistening,
ever so shameless.
Flores sagged against the door, sweaty, drifting in his post-orgasmic haze. He was
vaguely aware of Gareth scooping him up, crossing the room, and depositing him onto
the bed. Gareth flipped Flores onto his front.
“Did your father pay for this gown?” Gareth growled.
“Yes,” Flores mumbled against the clean linen.
Gareth gave a sharp smile. Then he pulled down the zipper and grasped both sides of
the dress. The next thing Flores knew, a loud ripping sound filled the room.
“Gareth,” Flores yelped, his heart stopping. “What’re you doing?”
“Ripping your dress.”
Flores turned, watching in sick fascination as the sequins parted, threads snapping,
Gareth’s biceps bulging as he tore the fabric apart.
“That—That was expensive,” Flores breathed, hardly believing it.
“Yeah, Tim’s money.” Gareth sent him a hot look. “‘Sides, this dress has no sentimental
value.”
He parted the fabric, leaving Flores in his panties. Gareth slid a strong arm around
Flores and lifted him out of the ruined dress. Then he swept the dress to the floor and
left Flores on the bed. Flores squirmed, feeling almost too naked.
Gareth crossed the room and rummaged in the shopping bag he’d left by the door.
Flores didn’t think much of it until firm loops of something wound around his wrists.
Rope? He blinked and looked up, whimpering when he found Gareth tying up his
wrists, securing them to the headboard rail. “You said you aren’t going to deny me.”
Gareth smiled, dark and hungry. “I’m not. You’re gonna cream yourself silly before you
get my cock. Just making sure you aren’t running from me again, Flower.”
Flores trembled, his hole squeezing tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”
“Good.” Gareth rolled him onto his back. Then he looped more rope around Flores’
ankles, lifting his legs up, one at a time, securing them to the headboard. By the time
Gareth was done, Flores was bent almost in half, his legs spread open, his hole exposed
to his alpha, free for Gareth to do whatever he wanted. Flores trembled, his cock leaking
again.
“Spread like a feast,” Gareth rumbled approvingly, brushing his wrists under Flores’
toes, over his ankles, and up his legs. He marked Flores’ thighs and hips, he made sure
to drag his scent gland all over the apple tattoo, and then up Flores’ sides. “Mine.”
Flores shivered, applewood on his skin. This was what it felt like to be loved.
Then Gareth rubbed his thumb against Flores’ hole, his calluses snagging against Flores’
skin. “Anyone been here lately?”
Flores shook his head, relaxing for his alpha. “Just me.”
Gareth’s smile grew. “Yeah? What were you thinking about?”
Gods, Flores had imagined every sinful thing Gareth had done to him, and then some.
“Your cock. And your mouth. I thought about you putting your spit inside my hole,
and my come. Then you use them as lube to fuck me.”
Gareth’s eyes darkened. He leaned in, kissing both sides of Flores’ ass, marking those
spots, too. Then he kissed Flores’ hole. “What else?”
“I thought about you giving me a plug to wear all day. You’d tell me it’s your knot,
even when I need to perform.” Flores had imagined doing his leaps with a small plug
inside him. He’d been so tempted to try, but only if Gareth were the one inserting it.
“I—I have a plug now. But I haven’t tried it yet.” His cheeks grew hot. “It’s close to
your size. I don’t know if I can fit it.”
Gareth’s eyes gleamed, his cock a hard line against his pants. “We’ll try it when we get
home. After you take my knot.”
Flores moaned, his insides growing hot again. “You’ll knot inside me?”
Gareth blew lightly on Flores’ hole—a puff of warm air—before kissing it. “Gonna prep
you first, Flower. Then you’re gonna take my knot for real. Gonna make you mine.”
The thought of Gareth stretching him, Gareth locked inside him—Flores’ blood
swooped between his legs. He squirmed against his bonds, his cock straining. “Sir,
please.”
“Please what?” Gareth smiled, licking Flores’ hole. He dropped kisses up Flores’ balls
and cock, pausing to nuzzle his abdomen. “You kept our baby.”
Flores smiled. “It’s a reminder of you.”
“Good boy,” Gareth rumbled, brushing his wrist across Flores’ belly, his touch
possessive. Flores’ heart swelled.
Gareth kissed up Flores’ chest, his clavicles, his neck, following every kiss with a brush
of his wrist. Then he captured Flores’ lips in an intoxicating kiss, sliding into his mouth,
pulling out, thrusting back inside. Just like how he’d claim Flores’ body with his cock.
Flores moaned, his insides turning molten, his ass aching with how much slick it made
in preparation for his alpha’s cock.
Gareth rubbed this thumb against Flores’ hole. “So damn wet for me,” he rasped.
“Gonna take all of my cock, boy?”
“Yes,” Flores panted. “Please!”
Gareth squeezed Flores’ cheeks, pulling them apart, shoving his covered cock against
Flores’ ass. Denim scraped against Flores’ hole, growing damp. Flores shuddered.
Gareth’s cock was thick, hungry, and it would plow into Flores, opening him inside.
Flores panted, his entire body squeezing tight. “Sir—”
Gareth pulled away, leaning down to kiss Flores’ hole. He pushed his tongue in, a
slippery, intimate touch. Flores arched, his body heating up, his hole growing wetter.
Gareth licked at him, pressing sweet, sucking kisses to Flores’ skin so he thrashed, on
the edge of his release, needing more.
And Gareth held him there, teasing him until he whimpered and begged, “Gareth,
please.”
Gareth slapped his ass; pain sizzled down Flores’ nerves. “Try again.”
“Gareth,” Flores said, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
Gareth’s eyes flashed; his nostrils flared. “You’re disobeying me,” he growled, cracking
his palm against Flores’ asscheek.
It felt so good to have Gareth punish him again. To know that Gareth was here, ready to
reward Flores if Flores was good. Flores’ cock pulsed; he jerked against his bonds,
precome squirting from his cock. “Gareth!”
Gareth grasped Flores’ cock and squeezed, at the same time he struck Flores’ ass. Pain
and pleasure hissed down his nerves; Flores came, spilling all over his chest, bliss
coursing through his body.
He hadn’t time to recover before Gareth kissed his hole, tonguing it, pushing his fingers
inside to open him up. Flores wheezed. Gareth’s inside me.
Then Gareth squeezed Flores’ too-sensitive cock. Flores choked on his gasp, over-
stimulated, trying to squirm away. Except he couldn’t move, his bonds holding him
spread. It almost hurt when Gareth tugged on his cock, pulling slowly so his calluses
ground against Flores’ skin. Flores’ entire body spasmed. Gareth only smiled. He licked
Flores’ hole, now stretched around two of his fingers. Then he pushed a third finger
into Flores, and pressed down on his prostate.
Flores didn’t know how, but he was coming again, his body arching, a scream tearing
from his throat.
Over and over, Gareth dragged him past the edge, his fingers squelching inside Flores,
his teeth sinking into Flores’ ass and thighs, leaving bite marks all over his skin. Flores
only grew wetter, his legs shaking, his body covered in sweat, his chest a drying mess
of his own come.
He wanted to reach down, maybe stop Gareth so he could recover. Except his hands
were tied, the ropes holding his body open as his alpha pleasured him again and again,
until his hole ached and he had no more come to give.
“Gareth,” Flores rasped, his voice hoarse.
“You’ll call me ‘sir’,” Gareth growled, cracking his hand against Flores’ ass.
Flores jerked, panting, his chest flushed with how much he still needed. “Sir, please
claim me.”
“Yeah? What else do you want?”
“Your cock, sir,” Flores begged. “Your knot, sir. I need you to fill me, sir, please.”
Gareth groaned, his pupils blowing so wide, only a thin ring of dark green remained.
He yanked his shirt off. His pants and boxers went next, and he was magnificent, all
bronzed skin and flexing muscle, his cock flushed a dark red. Flores panted, feeling like
an offering at an altar for a deity. Gareth. And he was so ready to be consumed.
Gareth prowled up the bed, his gaze raking hot over Flores, sending a wave of tingles
across Flores’ skin. Flores writhed, trying to spread his legs wider.
“Mine, Flower,” Gareth rasped, bracing his hand next to Flores’ head.
Flores was naked beneath him, spread and vulnerable. With Gareth, all he knew was
anticipation, and trust. “All of me belongs to you,” Flores whispered.
Gareth kissed him hard—more love, in the middle of all this pleasure. Flores’ heart
fluttered. He tasted himself on Gareth’s lips, his musk mixed in with applewood and
fresh sweat. Gareth groaned and pushed his fingers into Flores’ hole, stretching him
open. Flores shuddered. He loved when Gareth claimed him in one fell swoop, he loved
taking all of his sir’s cock.
Before he slicked himself up, Gareth dragged his wrist down his cock, leaving his scent
on his skin. “Gonna mark you inside,” Gareth rasped, his gaze burning right into
Flores.
Flores’ breath rushed out of his lungs. He’d thought he’d seen Gareth being lewd, but
this, Gareth wanting his scent inside Flores, too—Flores’ face scorched. And he craved it,
suddenly.
“Please,” Flores gasped, trying to lift his hips higher so he could offer himself to Gareth.
“All of it.”
Gareth groaned, lubing himself up with Flores’ slick. Then he scooped up the drying
come on Flores’ chest, and rubbed it all over his cock, too. Flores’ face burned. Gareth
was shameless, and Flores loved him for it.
Gareth leaned in close, pressing a kiss to Flores’ lips. “Gonna take my cock, boy?”
“Yes,” Flores whispered, hardly breathing as Gareth angled his cock down, his silky tip
skimming across Flores’ belly, past his cock and balls, pushing demandingly against his
hole. Flores’ breath rushed out of him, sheer anticipation filling his veins.
Gareth kissed his lips. “Say please.”
“Please, sir,” Flores choked.
Gareth groaned, snapping his hips. His cock speared into Flores in a swift thrust. There
was suddenly a heavy presence inside Flores, stretching him so wide that he wheezed.
Gareth pressed the last couple inches into him, his balls tapping against Flores’ ass.
Flores’ voice broke.
“Fuck,” Gareth hissed, snapping his hips, the friction yanking gasps from both of them.
“So damn tight, Flower. Feels like I’m—like I’m deflowering you again.”
Flores would’ve groaned, if it weren’t for the pleasure of his alpha inside him. Right
now, he could only writhe and take Gareth’s cock.
“How’s my cock, boy?” Gareth growled against his lips, rocking inside him.
Flores shuddered. His alpha was claiming him. And everything felt right again.
“Flower,” Gareth prompted. Then he rolled his hips, his cock sliding out, before
plunging back inside. Pleasure sizzled down Flores’ nerves; he writhed, his own cock
growing so hard that it hurt. “Answer me,” Gareth growled, slapping his ass.
Flores couldn’t remember what Gareth had asked. Not when Gareth was a protective
cage around him, his cock buried deep inside, promising more.
Gareth growled against his lips. “You look so fucking good, Flower. Love your little
moans. When I fuck in like this—” he snapped his hips, and pleasure jolted through
Flores, yanking a cry from his lips “—you sound like you’re all mine.”
Flores flushed, tugging on his hands. He wanted to reach down, he wanted to hold on
to Gareth. “I want to touch you,” Flores whispered. “Please, sir.”
Gareth growled, considering his request. “Answer me first. How do you like my cock?”
He thrust it deep; electricity seared through Flores’ veins. Flores’ breath punched out of
him.
Gareth smiled, fucking in again. “Answer me, boy.”

Flores wanted to answer, except he had no words to. Gareth’s cock was an unyielding,
blissful weight inside him, and he wanted to worship it, wanted to show Gareth how
much he loved being claimed like this.
Over and over, Gareth rocked inside him, back and forth, pressing down on Flores’
prostate until he leaked.
“I-I-I...” Flores’ voice broke. He tried again. “S-so good.”
Gareth rumbled, fucking in deep to reward him. A moan tore out of Flores’ throat.
Gareth leaned forward, toward the bonds at Flores’ wrist. This pushed his cock all the
way into Flores’ body and held it there. Flores wheezed, trying to breathe. Gareth took
his time to undo the knots. “G-Gareth.”
Gareth slapped his thigh. “Try that again.”
Flores squeezed around his alpha. It seemed easier than trying to speak. Gareth swore,
rutting into Flores so Flores jerked, sweat prickling across his skin. Flores needed to
come again. He needed to hold Gareth close. He wanted to remember all of this—
Gareth claiming him, Gareth loving him.
The tension on Flores’ arms eased. Gareth leaned in, nipping on Flores’ jaw. “How’s
that?”
Flores wound his fingers into Gareth’s hair, whimpering. “Feels so good to hold you,”
he said.
Gareth gazed down upon him—his eyes were full of love—and he leaned in, kissing
Flores softly on the lips. “Anything for my boy.”
Then he snapped his hips, his cock surging inside. Bliss scorched down Flores’ spine.
He cried out against Gareth’s mouth, trying to catch his breath. Gareth thrust into him
again. Mine, Gareth’s body said. It set all of Flores’ nerves alight, and made him need.
“I want your knot,” Flores wheezed. “Sir.”
Gareth rumbled, sliding his arms around Flores, holding him close. Then he began a
deep rhythm inside Flores’ body, massaging Flores with his cock until Flores began
tightening around him, shaking helplessly, the pleasure inside him too much to bear.
“Gareth, s-sir—”
“Gonna give my knot to you,” Gareth whispered, sliding his tongue into Flores’ mouth,
claiming him there at the same time. “Come for me, Flower.”
His thrusts grew harder, hungrier. Flores writhed beneath him, the tension in his body
winding higher and higher, until Gareth reached between them and squeezed Flores’
cock, yanking him over the edge.
Pleasure flooded through Flores’ body, curling his toes, ripping a scream from his
throat. He clenched around his alpha, shaking to pieces.
Gareth cursed, anchoring Flores to himself. He pressed a sloppy kiss to Flores’ lips, his
breath stuttering as his strokes grew feverish.
“All yours,” Flores whispered against Gareth’s mouth. “Sir.”
Gareth groaned, thrusting a final time into Flores as his cock pulsed, marking Flores
inside with his seed. Flores shivered, panting. Just savoring his alpha.
“Thank you, sir,” he whispered, daring to brush his own wrists over Gareth’s
shoulders.
Gareth caught his breath, his forearms braced on either side of Flores so he didn’t crush
him. For a long moment, all he did was press kisses all over Flores’ face. Then he
blinked, glancing at Flores’ wandering hands. “What’re you doing, Flower?”
Flores blushed. “Marking you. If I’m yours, then you’re mine too, right?”
It seemed so impossible, having Gareth all to himself. But Gareth’s lips curved in a
warm smile. He tilted his head sideways, offering his neck. “Want to claim me as your
own?”
Flores stopped breathing. Gareth’s expression was hesitant, hopeful. There was a
marking already on Gareth’s neck, but he was offering it to Flores, too. It almost felt like
Gareth was offering his hand in marriage.
Flores gripped Gareth’s shoulders, his heart pounding. “You’re sure.”
“Yeah.” Gareth dropped a kiss on Flores’ nose. “I love you.”
His heart too full, Flores sniffed at Gareth’s skin, finding the spot that smelled most
strongly of applewood. He kissed it. “Will it hurt?”
“Just a sting. No more than a spanking.” Gareth grinned.
“How do you know what a spanking feels like?” Flores blurted.
“I was spanked as a kid.” Gareth grimaced. “Not quite the same as what I give you, but,
you know. Enough for me to hate receiving it.”
“Oh.” Reluctant to linger in Gareth’s bad memories, Flores leaned up and dragged his
teeth lightly over his alpha’s neck. Then he bit down hard, until he broke skin. Gareth
gasped, his cock jerking inside Flores’ body.
Blood welled up along the teethmarks on Gareth’s neck. That was Flores’ marking.
He’d laid claim on his alpha, and this strong, beautiful man above him—he was all
Flores’.
Gareth grinned, delight flashing in his eyes. “Looks like I’m yours.”
Flores’ throat grew tight. It was almost too good to be true. Gareth’s knot swelled inside
him, a heavy, unyielding weight that stretched him wider than he’d ever felt. Flores
groaned, his insides burning a little. There was no way he could pull away now, not
without hurting himself. This is what a knot feels like.
“Like my knot?” Gareth rumbled, rocking his hips.
His knot pushed deeper into Flores. Flores gasped, pleasure humming through his
body. “It’s—It’s so big,” he wheezed.
“It’ll get bigger,” Gareth said, his expression a mix of wryness and apology.
How much bigger would it get?
Gareth shifted to untie Flores’ ankles. His knot pushed deeper, opening Flores inside.
Flores moaned; Gareth swore, kissing down his jaw.
“Don’t regret it, huh?” Gareth murmured.
Flores shook his head.
Gareth huffed. “You sure are stubborn, Flower.”
“It makes you love me more, right?” Flores asked, his heart tripping. Gareth could still
say no.
“Yeah,” Gareth rumbled, his gaze warm. “I love you, even if you’re a brat.”
Relieved, Flores beamed. Gareth’s knot was still growing inside him, stretching him
further. Flores bit his lip. “It hurts a little.”
Gareth rumbled, grasping Flores’ cock. Then he stroked Flores off again, until Flores
writhed against him—except this felt so different with Gareth’s knot stretching him
inside. With each squirm, his body tugged on Gareth’s knot, squeezing around it.
Gareth’s eyes darkened.
“Wasn’t planning on claiming you like this today,” Gareth growled. “But you look so
damn beautiful.” And he swirled his fist around Flores’ cock. Flores arched, clenching
around his alpha.
Gareth swore and pinned him down, rolling his hips. Then, he showed Flores what it
was like to be loved with a knot.
Flores lost count of how many more times he came.
When Gareth finally let him rest, Flores found his alpha leaning over him, brushing his
bangs away from his face. There was a smile tugging on Gareth’s lips. “So beautiful,
Flower. That’s such a perfect name for you.”
“Really?” Flores frowned. “I’ve never thought of myself as a flower.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Gareth murmured. “I think you must’ve bloomed when Emil
taught you, is why he gave you that nickname. Then you curled back into a bud when
he passed—”
Flores’ heart ached at the memory. He still missed Emil. But with Gareth next to him,
the grief wasn’t so sharp anymore.
Gareth leaned in, kissing the pout off his lips. “He’ll be proud of you, you know,”
Gareth continued, his gaze warm. “You’ve learned to smile. You’re a lot happier.
You’ve bloomed again.”
Maybe... Gareth was right. Emil would grin and ruffle Flores’ hair, and he would say,
You did great.
He breathed out the weight in his chest, nuzzling his alpha. “You like that I’ve bloomed
again?”
Gareth kissed him. “Every time you smile, it feels like you’re filling my heart with
light.”
“Oh.” The way Gareth looked at him—he really did have a space for Flores in his heart.
That was still so amazing. Flores squirmed, unsure what to do with all of Gareth’s love.
He trailed his fingertips down Gareth’s chest, purring when Gareth stroked his wrists
over Flores’ forehead, his jaw, his throat.
“How... did you manage to find me today?” Flores blurted. “And you made it just in
time. That's... crazy.”
“Ben.” Gareth smiled wryly. “He told me all the wedding details. Not gonna lie,
though--the plane was delayed. I had to catch a cab and there was a jam down the
entire block. I had to sprint. Didn't think I was going to make it.” Gareth winced.
Flores pictured Gareth tearing down the streets, his heart fluttering.
Gareth scooped Flores against himself, brushing his wrist over Flores’ belly. “I want to
watch you dance again.”
“At the theater?” And Flores remembered his father’s threat—if he didn’t obey and
marry Ulric, Tim would expose Flores’ pregnancy to the theater company.
Flores still had a month of performances left to do. His stomach shriveled.
“What’s wrong?” Gareth asked.
“My dad,” Flores blurted. “I’m not supposed to be pregnant while I’m performing with
the theater. Dad threatened to tell them. Now that the wedding’s called off—he has to
know by now.”
Had Tim sent the news to Selena? Was Flores already fired? He huddled against Gareth,
not daring to touch his phone.
“That son-of-a-bitch.” Gareth narrowed his eyes, dragging his wrist down Flores’ skin.
“He’s why you agreed to marry Ulric, isn’t he?”
Flores nodded, squirming. “He’ll hurt you, Gareth. Don’t—Don’t argue with him.
Please.”
But Gareth shook his head. “I’m not gonna stand down anymore, Flower. He’s
mistreated you long enough.”
A cold chill slithered down Flores’ spine. “But he has enough money to hire people to
break your bones,” Flores cried, his chest squeezing. “I don’t want him to hurt you!”
The thought of Gareth all bloodied made Flores tense. Gareth rubbed his back, pressing
their lips together. “Give me some time. I’ll see if I can fix it.”
“But...” Flores wasn’t sure Gareth could. Even if Gareth was the most important person
in Flores’ life, the rest of Meadowfall wouldn’t notice if he was hurt, would they? What
could Gareth possibly do to keep Tim’s wrath off himself? “Gareth.”
“Shh.” Gareth kissed him, his jaw set with resolve. “Doesn’t matter now. I’ll take care of
things, Flower. Trust me.”
T HE NEXT DAY , when they’d flown back to Meadowfall, Gareth drove them up the
winding driveway to the Williams’ mansion.
“I don’t think we should do this.” Flores squirmed in the passenger seat, the frown on
his face damn near impossible to remove. Gareth had tried everything he could. But
Flores was nudging his crooked fingers again—every time Gareth saw those fingers, he
wanted to punch Tim into a bloody mess.
“We’ll get this fixed, once and for all,” Gareth muttered. “He won’t hurt you again.”
“But what about you?” Flores cried.
Gareth had mixed feelings about that. “What, you don’t trust me to take care of
myself?”
“I do, but—” Flores blanched. “Dad has all the money. I don’t want you to be tackled by
an entire football team. What if they kill you?” He shuddered.
“Fair point,” Gareth conceded. He didn’t think Tim would stoop that low—breaking a
few bones wasn’t the same as outright murder. It wouldn’t hurt to be safe, though. And
he had to stay healthy—they had a baby on the way.
They pulled up in front of the mansion, Gareth jogging around the car hood to open the
passenger door. Flores frowned. “I can do that myself.”
“I want to,” Gareth said. “Especially here. Show these guys how you should be
treated.”
Flores’ cheeks turned red. “I’m just me.”
“You’re important.” Gareth tugged him out of the car, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
“Your parents, of all people, should know that.”
Flores bit his lip wistfully. Gareth suppressed his anger. He linked their fingers
together, and led Flores up the stairs.
The butler was already at the front door, frowning. “Mr. Williams has been waiting for
you.”
Flores tensed. Gareth kissed his temple, making absolutely sure that Robert saw. “Sure.
Lead the way.”
He felt reckless, maybe obstinate, doing this in the Williams’ family home. But if his boy
had taught him anything, it was that people sure remembered bold statements for a lot
longer.
Robert sniffed, bringing them down the various hallways to Tim Williams’ study. He
knocked on the imposing wooden door and announced, “Gareth Brown and Flores, Mr.
Williams.”
“Let them in,” Tim Williams said. Flores gulped.
Gareth wrapped his arm around Flores’ waist, tugging him gently into the study.
Behind his carved wooden desk, Tim scowled. “What’s the meaning of this, Brown?
You fucked up the wedding I paid for, and you brought my son back here? What, so
you can knock him up again?”
Flores turned a bright red. Were it any other occasion, Gareth would’ve pulled him
aside to kiss him. Right now, all he felt was a consuming fury.
“You’re one to talk,” Gareth growled, stepping in front of Flores. “What sort of parent
threatens their child with injuries?”
Tim puffed up his chest. “That’s none of your concern.”
“No, it’s not mine. It’s something the police should look into.”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “Most parents threaten their children with shit.”
“I’m sure your political supporters would love to know that you had your son’s fingers
broken because all he wanted was your attention.”
Behind him, Flores stiffened. Tim looked accusingly in his direction, his face twisting
into a scowl. “You’re a sick piece of work, Brown. That’s my son.”
“That’s all you can say? That he’s your son?” Gareth seethed. Violence raged in his fists.
“You don’t give a shit that you fucking broke his bones.”
“All he’s brought us is trouble,” Tim snapped.
“Why? Because you’ve neglected him so much that he turned to drawing on walls for
your attention?”
“He’s a damn criminal,” Tim retorted.
“Have you even seen what he does with those walls?” Gareth took a step forward,
trying to restrain his anger. He was done playing peacekeeper. He was done owing Tim
any fucking thing. “Before you set the cops on him?”
“No. Why should I?”
Gareth was rounding the desk, he was pulling his fist back, slamming his knuckles into
the side of Tim’s face. Flores cried out. Tim yelled, stumbling backward. There was
justice in seeing Tim lose his composure. Gareth let him flail.
He was going to punch Tim a second time, probably a third, except Flores grasped his
fist.
“No,” Flores said, shaking his head.
He fucking abused you, Gareth wanted to snap. But Flores held on to Gareth’s hand.
Gareth forced himself to calm down, to respect Flores’ wishes.
“There are parents out there,” Gareth said through his anger, “who would love to have
their children possess that talent. You, on the other hand, have found every way to
suppress it. You’re beneath scum, Tim.”
Tim clutched his face, glaring daggers.
Gareth was too far gone to care. “I appreciate that you’re withholding the information
from the theater. In exchange, I won’t call the cops on you. But I require a price for
keeping your dirty secrets from the media.”
“What else do you want?” Tim snarled.
“A donation of ten thousand dollars to the children’s home. Every month, for the
foreseeable future.”
Tim spat. “Fine.”
“Starting today,” Gareth continued, “Flores will take my name. He’ll be under my
protection. You will not have any more power over him.”
Tim glowered. “Suit yourself. Get him out of my sight.”
Gareth stepped away, Tim’s presence an oily smear on his skin. He shared a look with
Flores, who squirmed.
“One last thing,” Gareth growled. “I’m aware of your penchant to hire out your dirty
work. If anything untoward happens to me, I’m sure the police would love to
investigate. I’ve already filed a statement there.”
Tim glared so hard, Gareth couldn’t see the whites of his eyes. Filthy scum. He took
Flores’ hand and left the study.
It was only when they were back in the car that Flores turned to him. “Wait, I’m—I’m
taking your name? Today?”
Gareth breathed out the rest of his anger. It took a whole minute. Then he gave a
sheepish smile. “Yeah. Just occurred to me. Sorry. Did you not want to...?”
Flores shook his head. “I’d love to. But how?”
Gareth’s heart tripped. “There’s a couple ways. Either you change your name through a
lawyer, or...”
Flores’ eyes widened. “We get married? Today?” He looked down at his flat belly—his
baby bump hadn’t even begun showing yet.
“Too soon?” Gareth asked. Because it really was. He wished he’d had the chance to
propose.
“Kind of.” Flores bit his lip. “We’re supposed to have a wedding and everything if we
get married, right?”
“Tell you what.” Gareth drove down to the iron gates, then out onto the street. “Why
don’t you change your name to something else, and then you’ll take my name
whenever you’re ready?”
Flores chewed on his lip. “That’ll cost extra, won’t it?”
“Quit worrying about the money, Flower.”
Flores squirmed, his eyes shadowed. “I don’t want to be a liability.”
That was something left over from Tim and Rissa. Going to the mansion had only
exacerbated it. Gareth took Flores’ hand, squeezing his fingers. “You won’t be a
liability, boy. Never with me.”
Flores blinked. Then, slowly, he cheered up. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Flores exhaled, relieved. Gareth wished he’d taught Flores these things sooner: that he
had a beautiful soul, that he deserved a family who loved him.
They sat in silence, driving back to the apartment. Flores glanced hopefully at Gareth.
“If I change my last name to Emil’s, would you mind?”
Emil had been a better dad to Flores than Tim had ever been. “Sounds perfect. Ready to
be Emil’s sort-of adopted son?”
Flores’ smile spread across his lips. “I guess I am.”
“Good.” Gareth made a U-turn, and they headed for the nearest lawyer’s office.
“W ILL there be smoothies at Family Day?” Flores asked, glancing at the stopped cross-
traffic before he hit the gas pedal.
“Not that I’m aware.” Gareth pulled out his phone. “What sort do you want?”
“Blueberries, chili peppers, and cucumbers.” Flores carefully drove them down the
street, following the directions on their GPS. “And, um. Some mushrooms.”
Gareth coughed, amused. Over the past weeks, Flores had been craving all sorts of
weird foods. This wasn’t even the strangest combination he’d requested. “That doesn’t
sound like it’ll be on a menu anywhere.”
Flores pouted. “Can I make one at the station?”
“Sure. Pull into this parking lot coming up,” Gareth said. “I’ll find us a grocery store.”
Flores did, slowly parking the SUV. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt, all but crawling
into Gareth’s lap.
Gareth’s heart almost stopped. He had a tiny box in his other pocket that he’d been
doing his best to hide. Couldn’t let Flores accidentally paw it, if he wanted it to be a
surprise. He caught Flores’ wandering hand. “Hey. What’re you doing?”
“I’ve been driving around for an hour.” Flores pouted. “It’s lonely on my side of the
car.”
“You need to get your practice in.” But Gareth was smiling, pulling his boy in for a kiss.
“You’re doing great.”
Flores purred, melting into Gareth’s arms. At five months in, he was all hands—even
more than when they’d first gotten together. They’d tangled in bed twice today; right
now, Flores was trying to unzip Gareth’s pants, his lips hot on Gareth’s throat.
“We’re in public, you know,” Gareth said dryly. “Someone could look over and have
the police kick us out.”
Flores shoved his hand into Gareth’s pants. “Mm.”

Exasperated, Gareth shook his head, cupping Flores’ belly—it was a very visible bump
now.
After his play closed, Flores hadn’t returned to the theater for another audition. Instead,
he’d been setting up an online store selling art prints of his work. The station had also
hired him part-time to do a mural on the side of the garage. Gareth was pleased about
that—it meant that he got to see his boy during work hours, and kiss him.
The mural stint didn’t mean that Flores had given up dancing, though. They’d turned a
room in Gareth’s house into a studio, complete with mirror and barre. Sometimes,
Gareth would sit in while Flores did his stretches, admiring the way Flores’ clothes
hugged his growing belly.
Flores closed his snug mouth around Gareth’s cock. Interrupted from his thoughts,
Gareth hissed.
“We’re gonna be late if we keep this up,” he muttered, rocking into Flores’ damp heat.
“But I want to taste you.”
“We are not doing this at the sta—” Flores swallowed around Gareth, and Gareth’s
mind went blank. “Fuck.”
Later, when Gareth felt utterly boneless and Flores was licking his lips clean, Flores
located a nearby grocery store.
“We are so late,” Gareth muttered, sniffing at himself. “And they’ll totally know why.”
Flores beamed. “But you smell like me.”
“I do.”
Flores was possessive, just like Gareth was. That made two of them. Gareth kept his
hand on Flores’ thigh as he drove. At a nearby grocery, they bought the ingredients for
Flores’ smoothie, before heading over to the station.
The party was moving well along when they finally parked in the employees’ parking
area. Gareth spotted most of his team in plain clothes, along with some of their omegas
and children.
Alec sauntered over, knocking on Gareth’s window. “Look who finally showed up!”
Gareth opened the door, blushing when Alec recoiled from the musk. “Guys, gross,”
Alec said. “You were late because—because of snakes.”
“What the hell,” Gareth said. “Snakes?”

Alec laughed, nodding over to where Caleb ran around in circles, his hands held above
his head in that snake dance Flores had taught him. “Kid’s obsessed.”
Flores rounded the car to join Gareth, laughing. “He really likes that dance, doesn’t he?
I can’t believe he still remembers it.”
“He’s probably danced it nonstop,” Gareth said dryly.
“York supposedly has an anaconda lying around somewhere,” Alec added. “I’m
envious.”
Perry, York’s omega, joined them, looking horrified. “Did Caleb tell you that?”
“Gareth has one, too,” Flores said, completely innocently. Then he wiped his mouth.
Alec shook his head, turning away in affront. Gareth slapped Flores on the ass. “Brat,”
he murmured fondly. Flores grinned.
“Did you bring Ben along?” Gareth asked Alec.
Alec flipped him off. “No.”
Because they were at the party, and because the box weighed heavily in Gareth’s pocket
and he needed to focus on something else for a bit, Gareth said, “Someone made a
donation to Ben’s Buns, you know. Ben’s pretty pleased.”
Flores blushed, but Alec didn’t see it. Alec scowled. “Someone? Who?”
Gareth looked at the sky, whistling. “I don’t know. Ask him yourself.”
Alec stormed into the station, muttering to himself. Flores coughed. “You could’ve told
him.”
Gareth smirked. “Nah. If he wants Ben that much, he can get his answer right from
Ben’s mouth.”
Flores laughed. Gods, Gareth couldn’t get enough of his happiness.
Perry looked over, eager for some gossip. He was just as pregnant as Flores was. “Alec
has a crush?”
“Ben, from the bakery,” Gareth said. “They’re stepbrothers.”
Perry’s eyes grew round. He eyed Alec’s retreating figure, looking like he had more
questions. Gareth chuckled. “He might tell you more if you ask. Kid needs a listening
ear.”
Perry wavered for a second. Flores stepped over, linking arms with him. “We’ll go chat
with Alec,” Flores said. “You won’t mind, will you?”
Gareth rolled his eyes. Omegas. “Go ahead, bring back some of that gossip.”
He had been planning for Flores to pop into the station building while he set things up,
but this was working out better than he’d expected.
Before he left, Flores leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Gareth’s lips. “I love you,”
Flores whispered. Then he tugged Perry away before Gareth could answer.
The other firefighters said hi as Flores passed. With his stint painting the mural, Flores
was a familiar face around the station. He was settling in, finding his found family, and
Gareth couldn’t be happier for his omega.
“Hey.” Dom stopped next to Gareth. “How’s things?”
Gareth touched the box in his pocket, his stomach doing somersaults. “Fine. Kind of
nervous. You’d think I wouldn’t be, the second time around.”
Dom cracked a smile. “Yeah, no. You’re all but married, aren’t you?”
“He can still say no.”
Dom snorted. If he weren’t the one proposing tonight, Gareth would feel the same. The
thought made his insides squirm. What would he do if Flores turned him down?
They headed over to Harris, Jesse, Nate, and most of the other off-duty firefighters, who
had gathered around Caleb and a few of the other children.
“Gareth,” Nate and Brad called. “You ready for tonight?”
Gareth fingered his ring box. “Kind of. Don’t flake on me now.”
The team grinned. “Never,” a couple of them chorused.
“Hey, Tadpole,” Gareth said to Caleb.
“Hello, Uncle Carrot.” Caleb looked around, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Where’s
Uncle Flower?”
“He’ll be here in a minute,” Gareth answered.
“Is he looking for snakes?” Caleb smiled excitedly.
“He’ll be back when he wants one,” Dom muttered. Gareth elbowed his friend in the
gut. Dom coughed.
“I didn’t know you were in on the snake thing,” Gareth said.
Dom laughed. “Everyone’s in on the snake thing. No thanks to York.”
York looked up from taking a video of Caleb. “What?”
“You’ve brought a plague of snake puns to the station,” Dom said wryly.
York flushed. “You’re welcome?”
“No,” Dom answered. “Last thing we need is for the public to lurk around, looking for
snakes in our pants.”
Gareth coughed. Damn, he loved his team. He could count on them for anything—
including helping with tonight. He pulled out his ring box. “Okay, who’s ready for
this?”
F LORES POURED his smoothie into a mug, rinsing out the blender in the sink.
“That can’t taste good,” Alec said, making a face. “Blueberries, chili peppers, and
mushrooms?”
“And cucumbers.” Flores grinned. “I’m going to let Gareth try it.”
“Right now?”
“Sure, why not? I just have to clean up first.” Flores wiped the blender dry.
Alec exchanged an uncomfortable look with Perry. “Maybe you want to try that
mixture first? See if it won’t kill your alpha?”
Flores laughed, sipping from his mug. The cucumber and blueberries made the
smoothie refreshing, and the mushrooms provided an earthy contrast. The chili peppers
bit into his tongue—they were just a little spicy. Gareth wouldn’t mind, though.
“Gareth’s had worse than this. He’s been sampling all my weird food.”
“What if you gave it a bit of time?” Alec blurted. “To let the flavors, uh, marry?”
Perry gave Alec a pointed frown. They were sure behaving oddly.
“But blending food does that, doesn’t it?” Flores dried his hands, picking up his mug to
rejoin the party outside.
“Wait,” Alec and Perry both yelped.
“What’s wrong?” Flores asked, suspicious.
“Alec might be having a stomachache,” Perry said.
“Why don’t I tell you more about Ben,” Alec blurted.
There really was something strange going on. But Alec had sworn not to reveal more
about his stepbrother, and Flores’ curiosity got the better of him. “Why aren’t you
talking to Ben? He knows you’re in Meadowfall, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Alec squirmed, his face turning red. “He thinks I hate him.”
Perry looked dismayed. “What did you do, Alec?”

“We were in high school together,” Alec muttered, looking at his feet. “It was some
year-end party. We were playing Spin-the-Bottle with some other guys. I spun the
bottle and, guess what? It pointed at my stepbrother. And... I already had a crush on
him, you know?” Alec blew out a breath. “Everyone just... fell silent. Like, a bad kind of
silent. They were all waiting to see if we’d do it.”
Flores had forgotten to breathe. “Did you kiss him?”
Alec grimaced. “I didn’t want to. I was terrified that he’d realize what I felt. And... Ben
was sick all the time. He didn’t need anyone judging him for kissing his stepbrother,
too. So I just—Gods, I was such a shitty brother. I pecked him on the lips and ran. And I
got one of my besties to take him home. After that night, things just... got awkward. He
didn’t really want to talk to me, either. So we pretty much fell apart. I moved out as
soon as I could.”
“Oh, no.” Perry winced.
“But you still love him,” Flores said.
Alec glanced away. “It’s not love. It’s just... some stupid crush.”
Flores stared, his heart aching for Alec. “I don’t think he has an alpha, for what it’s
worth. He’s got a marking, though.”
Alec closed his eyes, his face crumpling. Perry hugged him.
“Maybe you need a jar of honey, too,” Perry told Alec. “I think that might help you
patch things up.”
Alec groaned. “No, I don’t think that’ll help.”
“It does work,” Flores said. “Especially when you use it as a dipping sauce.”
Perry brightened. “See, two of us can’t be wrong, right?”
Alec didn’t seem convinced. His phone buzzed, though, and his expression changed
when he read the message. “Right. Time to go.”
“Go where?” Flores asked.
“Outside.” Alec exchanged a look with Perry again, and their suspicious behavior was
back.
Flores eyed them uneasily. “What’s going on?”

“Something good,” Perry said, linking arms with Flores. He tugged Flores out into the
garage, then to the back of the station, where the party was. Golden fairy lights had
been strung up in the time he was gone.
Instead of the firefighters all scattered around and mingling, they’d gathered close to
the garage doors in two rows, facing Flores. Flores almost thought he heard thunder
rumbling in the distance.
It wasn’t thunder, though. The station alphas were singing. As he stepped onto the
asphalt, Gareth peeled away from the rest of his station family, his gaze locked onto
Flores.
Gareth was singing, too. Except his voice rose up higher and stronger than the rest. “I’d
wandered so far into the dark, I’d left behind the light. Never thought I’d find someone whose
heart would shine so bright.”
Flores froze. He’d never heard this song before. But he’d heard bits and pieces of the
background chorus—for weeks, now, the station alphas had been singing it on and off,
wriggling their eyebrows whenever he was around. At that point, Flores had brushed
that oddity off as them teasing him.
“It’s a firefighter’s promise,” the rest of the alphas sang. “We stay true to our word.”
“I stumbled and fell and made a mess,” Gareth continued. With each step he took, the
intensity in his eyes grew. “But you gave me a second chance. I held your hand and swore I’d
take care of the rest.”
Flores’ heart pounded. No, this wasn’t just choir practice. Perry had released him
somewhere along the way, and Flores stood alone now, Gareth meeting him halfway on
the asphalt. Gareth took his hand.
Then he went down on one knee, producing a tiny black box from somewhere. When he
opened it, the ring inside gleamed, sitting on dark velvet.
All the air rushed out of Flores’ lungs. This was really happening. “Gods, Gareth.”
“Marry me,” Gareth murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Flores’ hand. “Flower.”
Flores’ vision grew blurry. It had been a while since they’d talked about marriage, and
he’d thought maybe Gareth had forgotten about it. Or maybe Gareth wasn’t sure,
because Flores had confided that he didn’t know how to be a good father. Flores had
thought maybe Gareth had found him lacking.
And all this while, Gareth had just been... planning this. He wanted Flores for real.
“Yes,” Flores croaked, his throat too tight.
Gareth broke into a relieved smile, sliding the ring onto Flores’ crooked finger. Then he
stood and kissed Flores hard. Flores couldn’t breathe. Gareth didn’t mind those
crooked, ugly fingers. He’d done this all for Flores.
“I was worried you’d say no,” Gareth whispered, dropping fervent kisses all over
Flores’ face. “Mine.” He cradled Flores to his chest. Flores wanted to breathe him in and
never let go. After spending so much of his life unwanted, to have Gareth ask to be
Flores’ family—that was like a dream come true.
“I told you,” Flores said through his tears. “You aren’t getting rid of me so easily.”
Gareth smiled and kissed him again. The baby kicked. Flores gasped, pressing Gareth’s
hand against his belly. “Did you feel it?”
Over the past few weeks, Flores had felt their baby moving in his belly. Each time,
Gareth had been too late to catch it, or it was too faint a nudge. Gareth held his breath,
looking into Flores’ eyes.
Their baby kicked again. Gareth’s entire face lit up. “I felt it,” Gareth said, delight thick
in his voice. “That’s our baby, Flower.”
Flores beamed, so happy that his heart could burst. “All yours,” he whispered. “Me and
the baby both.”
Gareth kissed him. Around them, the firefighters cheered, and Flores felt like he’d
found his place in the world.
F LORES GROANED as Gareth sank into him, Gareth’s strong arms trembling with how
hard he was trying to go slow. It wasn’t enough; Gareth had been teasing him for a
while. “Sir,” Flores whimpered. “More.”
Gareth swore, biting down on Flores’ shoulder. Flores arched. “I’m not going faster,”
Gareth growled.
“You’re killing me.” Flores was lying on his side, his body heavy with desire. All
Gareth did was rub his round belly, kissing his nape.
At forty weeks, Flores felt all but ready to pop. His body had acquired a number of
angry red stretchmarks, and his ankles were swollen, his limbs thicker than they used to
be. He didn’t feel pretty anymore. Just sore, achy, and altogether terrible. Why Gareth
even wanted to look at him was anyone’s guess.
Gareth stroked his wrist all over Flores’ chest, kissing his back. Then he thrust in
slowly, nipping on Flores’ shoulder. “You’re so beautiful.”
Flores shivered. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Prove it to me, then,” Flores hissed, cringing when Gareth leaned up on one elbow to
gaze upon him. “No, don’t look.”
Gareth huffed, sliding out of him. Flores whined. And whined more when Gareth sat
up, kneeling by Flores’ hip. He could see all of Flores now—the marks and the
swollenness, Flores’ inverted belly button. Flores wrapped his arms around himself. He
shouldn’t have let Gareth convince him to take his clothes off.
Gareth kissed Flores’ cheek, his gaze warm. “All I see is the most beautiful boy in the
world.”
Flores gulped, glancing at his alpha. He wanted to believe, he really did. But it was so
difficult. “I’m just ugly now.”
“There’s no way you can ever be ugly.” Gareth nuzzled Flores, his breath rushing warm
against Flores’ skin. Pride gleamed in his eyes. “You’re carrying our baby, Flower. Your
body made changes to keep you and our baby safe. It’s normal.”
“It’s not pretty,” Flores mumbled. But seeing the love on Gareth’s face... Flores believed
that emotion. Gareth did still appreciate how Flores looked.
Gareth covered Flores with his own body. “Your heart is what’s pretty, you know.
Here.”
He pressed his palm over Flores’ chest, dropping kisses down Flores’ arm. “This is what
I look forward to whenever I get off work. Just seeing you around. Doesn’t matter what
you look like.”
Flores’ heart fluttered. “Even if I’m a slug oozing slime all over the floor?”
Gareth snorted. “Well, you aren’t a slug. I’m not sure I would bed one of those.”
“But what if I were zapped by some alien X-ray and I turned into a slug?” Flores
grimaced. “Would you even believe it was me?”
Gareth paused, opening and closing his mouth. “Well. I’d probably ask you twenty
questions.”
“And if I got all of them right? You would put your cock into slug-me.” Flores tried to
imagine that.
“Only if it turned you back into a human, I think.” Gareth bit Flores lightly, sharp
points of his teeth on Flores’ skin. “I’m not sure it’d be right to otherwise.”
Flores thought about it, savoring Gareth’s gentle kisses on his ear. “I guess the slime
would be enough lube.”
“Oh, shush.” Gareth slapped Flores lightly on the ass, enough to send a jolt up his
spine. “You’re not a slug. You have a beautiful soul, Flores. That’s all that matters.
You’re keeping our baby safe. You’re a joy to be around. You make my heart happy.”
There was honesty in his voice. And maybe... Flores could believe his alpha. Especially
when Gareth reached over, touching the ring that now sat on Flores’ swollen pinky—
the only place it would fit when he was this pregnant.
Gareth wanted to marry him, even now. Flores smiled, cheering up. “You think I’m
beautiful?”
“Yes. More than a thousand times yes.”
Gareth sank back into Flores, scattering his thoughts. Gareth kissed his scent gland.
Then he sucked on it, grasping Flores’ cock—now hidden by his swollen belly—and
tugged lightly. Electricity shot down Flores’ spine. Flores arched, remembering his
need.
“Come for me, boy,” Gareth growled, sinking his cock so deep, Flores forgot to breathe.
The thought of his alpha owning all of him—loving all of him—sent him over the edge.
Flores wheezed, pleasure crashing through his body, his cock pulsing in Gareth’s hand.
Behind, Gareth groaned, his hips stuttering as he pressed close, struggling to slow
down. He gave a deep thrust and then stopped, pulling Flores against himself, dragging
his wrists all over Flores’ body. “Mine,” Gareth rasped. “All mine.”
Gareth wrapped himself around Flores, just catching his breath. Flores smiled to
himself. Whatever he looked like, Gareth would stay by his side.
They drifted in and out of a nap, Gareth knotting inside him. When Flores woke again,
it was because pain was lancing through his body.
He wheezed and gasped, clutching his abdomen. Gareth curled protectively around
him. “Another contraction?”
Flores nodded. He’d been getting small contractions over the past couple days. This one
felt worse, though. “Hurts.”
Gareth massaged his back, murmuring in his ear. Then he leaned around Flores, kissing
his belly. “Hey,” Gareth murmured against Flores’ taut skin. “Your dad and I love you
and everything, but don’t kick him so hard, okay? He’s going to hurt a lot when he
gives birth to you.”
Flores chuckled. “You’re such a strict daddy, Gareth.”
Gareth huffed. “Yeah, well. The baby’s gonna have to learn something or other. May as
well learn not to hurt you.”
Gareth kissed Flores’ belly, meeting his eyes with such warmth that his heart skipped a
beat. Flores still didn’t know if he’d be a good dad—he’d grown up under bad
examples. He was worried that he’d screw up. What if bad parenting was in his genes?
What if he didn’t get along with his child somehow? What if their baby ended up hating
him?
“It’ll be okay,” Gareth murmured, kissing Flores’ belly again. “You’ll do fine.”
“You’re sure?” Flores squirmed.
“Yeah.” Gareth squeezed his hand. “You’re full of love. You care for others. I think
you’ll do great.”
Flores allowed himself to be convinced, following Gareth off the bed.
“Walk around,” Gareth said. “It’ll help with your labor.”
Flores didn’t expect Gareth to, but Gareth walked with him. Then he supervised as
Flores double-checked the overnight bag.
Something wet trickled down Flores’ thigh. He swiped at it, frowning. “Is that... from
earlier? Or—Or did my water break?”
Gareth led Flores to the bathroom, wiping him down with a damp washcloth. Then he
pressed two fingers into Flores, before pulling them out and sniffing. “Might be your
water breaking, yeah.”
Panic slithered through Flores’ veins. He clutched at Gareth’s hand. “I’m not ready.” He
didn’t think he’d ever be. What if he messed up?
“I’m here,” Gareth murmured, kissing his forehead. Flores’ round belly got in the way
of their hug. “Things will be okay.”
“But...”
“Trust me.” Gareth cupped Flores’ face, meeting his eyes. “I haven’t failed you yet,
have I?”
“No, sir.” Flores bowed his head, ever so grateful for Gareth’s presence. “I trust you.”
Gareth brushed his wrist over Flores’ forehead, reminding Flores of his protection.
“Good boy.”
The worry in Flores’ chest eased a little. “Will it feel weird?” he asked. “When our child
is born and you’re still calling me ‘boy’?”
Gareth thought about it for a while. “You’ll always be my boy, you know. Same as how
I’ll always be your sir.”
That was true. “Maybe... it might be easier keeping that to the bedroom,” Flores
suggested. “Most of it, anyway. I wouldn’t know how to explain to our baby why
you’re calling me a boy.”
Gareth laughed. “Bedroom it is.”
They made sure that the nursery was ready. Midway through, Sawyer dropped by the
house.
“I finished the mural in your room,” Flores told him. “Tell me if anything needs to be
fixed?”
“It’ll have to wait if there is,” Gareth said dryly. “Flores is going into labor.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows crawled up. “I’ll go look. Thanks. But you really didn’t have to.”
He’d warmed up a lot to Flores over the past few months. Flores had painted a sports
car racing through Sawyer’s room on request. It had been a fun project, since he wasn’t
able to move around so much, anyway.
The rest of the house contained other murals, too. The countryside scene in the dining
room had long been completed, and stone archways led from one room to the next. In
Derek’s room, Flores had painted another scene from the park, with Gareth, Derek, and
Sawyer. In the bedroom he shared with Gareth, Flores had painted the view of a sunrise
from a mountaintop—because that was what his relationship with Gareth felt like—a
new beginning, one that filled him with hope.
Sawyer wandered off to his room. Gareth slid his arms around Flores, turning him
around in a slow circle. “I can’t wait to marry you,” Gareth murmured, his eyes
crinkling. “I’m already looking forward to it.”
Flores laughed. They’d agreed to push back the wedding, now that Flores had taken on
Emil’s last name—he wanted to spend some time with that name, before he officially
adopted Gareth’s. “Have you thought about how you want everything to look at the
wedding?”
“Nah, I’ll leave that to you.” Gareth grinned. “I wouldn’t be looking at anything else,
anyway. Just you.”
Flores blushed.
The next contraction rolled through him, sending pain through his body like a ball of
spikes had crashed into his gut. When he blinked himself back to the present, Flores
found himself in Gareth’s arms. They were sitting on the couch, Gareth rubbing his
back. “Feel better?” Gareth asked, apologetic.
“Better now,” Flores said. He’d heard about how painful childbirth was. He dreaded it,
but he was also tired of feeling so bloated. Gareth kissed his temple, cradling him close.
When Flores’ contractions grew more frequent, Gareth brought him to the hospital,
waiting with him until he was admitted.
Gareth sat with him on the hospital bed—being broader, he took up more space than
Flores did, but Flores didn’t mind. It almost felt like they were snuggling in bed at
home.
“Have you decided on a name?” Gareth asked.
“Kind of.” Flores bit his lip. “It feels weird to decide what someone will be called for the
rest of their life.”
“In some cultures, it’s like giving your child a blessing,” Gareth said. “Does that help?”
That took some of the weight off Flores’ chest. “It does.”
They spent the next few hours looking at even more names than the ones Flores had
thought about. Gareth held Flores through his contractions, rubbing his back,
murmuring soft words in his ear.
The contractions grew more frequent. Flores’ hospital gown grew damp with sweat.
The midwife bustled in, pulling on a glove after she’d taken Flores’ and the baby’s
vitals. She slid a couple of fingers into Flores to check on his dilation; Gareth narrowed
his eyes, growling.
The midwife shook her head and sighed.
“What’re you growling about?” Flores asked.
“Mine,” Gareth muttered, squeezing Flores’ hand. “I’m the only one who gets to touch
you.”
Flores rolled his eyes. “You are. This is different, Sir Carrot.”
Gareth growled even more. He was sweet that way. Flores laughed, patting Gareth’s
hand. Then another contraction crashed through him, and Flores couldn’t breathe. “It’s
like the opposite of an orgasm,” Flores panted, sagging against Gareth when it was
over. He wasn’t sure how he’d have the energy to last even more hours. “I might start
swearing at you like those omegas on TV.”
Gareth bit down a smile. “I’m prepared.”
Hours later, waves and waves of agony sluiced through Flores’ body. He regretted
everything. It felt like his belly was trying to implode into a black hole. He grasped at
Gareth, trying to ignore the pain. He couldn’t.
“The next time you put that thing into me,” Flores snarled, “I’ll claw your balls out.”
Gareth winced, looking like he was squeezing his legs together. “It’ll be over soon,” he
said, rubbing Flores’ back. “Push, Flower.”
“Why don’t I give you a melon to push out your ass,” Flores snapped.
Gareth looked properly cowed; Flores calmed somewhat. He pushed when the midwife
told him to, gritting his teeth through the pain. It’ll be worth it. It has to be.
Gareth brushed his fingers through Flores’ hair, kissing his forehead. “I believe in you,”
he whispered, worry flashing through his eyes. “You can do it.”
Flores heaved and heaved, exhausted and hurting. It felt like forever before he felt his
baby slide out of him in a final rush. Then he sagged back into the bed, relief flooding
through him. It’s over.
Gareth gathered Flores into his arms. “So proud of you,” he murmured hoarsely,
dropping kisses all over Flores’ face. He looked relieved, too. “You did great, Flower. I
love you.”
Flores whimpered, nuzzling Gareth’s shoulder. After all that pain and suffering, it was
so nice just to hear those words from his alpha.
“Congratulations, Flores, Gareth. You have a healthy baby boy,” the midwife said, a
tiny wailing bundle in her arms.
Flores held his breath. Although he’d read countless articles on the internet, he still
didn’t have any childcare experience. He’d never anticipated having a baby this soon.
But their son was half of Gareth and half of him, and Flores remembered the days when
he’d thought his baby was all he had left of his alpha.
Their son was someone precious.
The midwife laid the wailing bundle on Flores’ chest. Their son was tiny, delicate, his
skin flushed red. He wailed loudly, all gums and clenched fists—this was who Flores
had been carrying for all these months. Their baby.
“Hello, Riley, brave one,” Flores murmured, half-afraid he’d say the wrong thing and
scare their baby. “Your dad and I have been waiting for you.”
To his surprise, Riley quietened, as though he was listening out for Flores’ voice. So
Flores murmured at him, watching in awe as Riley calmed.
“He recognizes you,” Gareth murmured in his ear. He took Flores’ hand in his own,
and settled their palms on Riley’s damp back. “He thinks of you as his safe place.”
Flores’ throat grew tight. He hadn’t thought of it that way before. And suddenly he saw
his younger self in Riley, the child who had sought love from his parents. A surge of
protectiveness welled up in his chest.
You won’t ever feel alone, Flores thought, cradling their baby close. You’ll be loved in our
family.
“I love him,” Flores told Gareth, his voice cracking.
His eyes crinkling, Gareth wrapped his arms around them both. Then he kissed Riley
gently, brushing his wrist across Riley’s shoulders. “I’ll be here every step of the way,
Flower,” Gareth murmured. “It’s okay to make mistakes. I’ll help.”
Relief and love swelled in Flores’ heart. He would do his best to make sure Riley grew
up as a wanted child. With Gareth by his side, that future didn’t seem so daunting
anymore.
Flores hugged Riley close, pressing a kiss to Gareth’s lips. “I love you.”
Gareth’s smile filled Flores’ entire soul with warmth, like he’d come home to a blazing
hearth. “Love you, too.”
“I’ VE GOT everything ready to go,” Flores said, setting the diaper bag by the front door.
“Here, I’ll take Riley. Go get dressed.” He held his arms out, frowning when Gareth
laughed. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re ordering me around, boy?” Gareth grinned, slapping Flores lightly on the ass.
Flores yelped; mischief sparkled in his eyes. Gods, Gareth couldn’t get enough of him.
Riley was six months old at this point. He liked to burble and laugh, and Gareth loved
watching Flores talk to their son. Flores had learned so much these past few months—
he’d learned to be confident with handling Riley, he’d learned to juggle childcare and
his own painting work on the days Gareth was on duty at the station.
“What if I said yes? Listen to my orders, Sir Carrot.” Flores took Riley into his arms,
flicking a coy look at Gareth.
His arms free now, Gareth tackled his omega and son. Riley squealed. Flores squawked,
stumbling a little. Gareth caught them and pulled them close, kissing Riley on the nose.
“You’re looking for some punishment, aren’t you?” Gareth growled, squeezing Flores’
ass.
Flores perked up. “We’ll be married when we get home,” he breathed. “Will that make
you punish me harder?”
Gareth laughed. “We get married, and the first thing you ask for is punishment.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to want, then?” Flores grinned. “Go wear your fancy
suit before we run late.”
Then he smacked Gareth’s ass.
Gareth angled a look at him. Flores grinned, stepping back. “Hurry, Riley. Daddy’s
coming after us! The giant monster is here!”
He bobbed Riley in his arms, and Riley squealed.
Gareth shook his head. “Brat. You’re gonna be punished when we get some alone
time.”
Flores’ smile almost blinded him. He was such a brat. And Gareth loved him anyway.
Gareth stalked close, kissing Flores on the lips. “Are you excited?”
Flores nodded. He trailed after Gareth into their bedroom, hovering by the door while
Gareth shrugged out of his sleeping clothes. Flores’ gaze was heavy and appreciative on
Gareth’s skin—it felt good, being with Flores so long, knowing that neither of them
would get tired of each other at all.
“Are you excited?” Flores asked.
“When you’re going to take my name?” Gareth rumbled, anticipating later today, when
he got Flores all to himself. “Hell, yeah. Flores Brown. I’ve been fantasizing about it.”
Flores laughed. “Is that what you jerk off to?”
Gareth pulled on his dress shirt and dark pants, giving his omega a hot look. “Maybe.”
Flores shivered, smiling to himself. Then his smile fell. “Looks like Riley needs a diaper
change.”
He wandered off to grab fresh diapers, leaving Gareth alone to finish dressing. Gareth
found him a couple minutes later in the bathroom, dumping the soiled diaper and
wipes. When Flores turned back to their son, Riley babbled. And a stream of pee arced
through the air, trailing down Flores’ flowing lace shirt. He’d been so excited to wear it
to their wedding.
Flores stared, his expression falling so hard, Gareth felt bad for him. “Here, I’ll take
over,” Gareth said, stepping close to kiss Flores’ temple. “Go clean up. You’ve got some
other really nice shirts, too.”
“But I wanted to wear this one.” Flores pouted.
“You’ll look beautiful in rags. Just saying.”
“You wouldn’t marry me if I wore rags, would you?” Distracted from his situation,
Flores glanced at Gareth.
“I’d marry you naked, and I’d marry you even if you were wearing a cardboard box.”
Flores looked thoughtful. “What if we were both wearing cardboard box cars? Like the
ones that you hang on yourself with suspenders.”
“Sure.”
Flores cheered up. He leaned in to kiss Riley on the belly. “I still love you, you poopy
fiend.”
Riley babbled, tugging on Flores’ hair. Flores grinned and left the room. Gareth shook
his head at their son. “Bad kid,” Gareth murmured. “Don’t upset your dad. It’s our
wedding day.”
Riley smiled innocently, and Gareth’s heart softened. He completed the diaper change,
deciding not to hand Riley back this time.
When Flores emerged from their room, he’d put on a fitted shirt. But he held a pile of
fabric in his hands. “What if I wear your shirt instead?”
Gareth hadn’t even considered that. But the more he thought about it, the more his
instincts approved. “You’ll be taking my name. I don’t see why you can’t wear my
shirt.” What better way was there to stake his claim? He grinned, prowling over.
“Maybe get your shirt off, before I rip it off myself.”
Flores blushed, changing shirts. Gareth’s shirt fit loosely on his shoulders; Gareth set
Riley down on their bed, before helping Flores roll up his too-long sleeves. Flores
knotted the shirt hem, so it fitted better around his waist.
He looked so good, wearing Gareth’s shirt. Gareth rumbled in approval, brushing his
wrists all over Flores. “Mine.”
Flores beamed.
So maybe they were a little bit late to the ceremony. By the time they arrived at the lake,
the rest of the guests were there—the off-duty teams from the station, some of Flores’
previous coworkers from the theater, and Ben. Flores’ parents weren’t there, but Gareth
wasn’t expecting them to be.
After a huge public outcry over the Williams’ business practices, one of Tim’s political
rivals had turned his supporters against him. Tim’s insurance company had lost the
majority of its clients—as far as Gareth knew, Tim’s business was about to fold.
“Way to show up fashionably late for your own wedding,” Alec said, wriggling his
eyebrows at Flores’ oversized shirt.
Flores laughed.
“It was a diaper accident,” Gareth answered. “Not quite what you think.”
“We were starting to think you’d eloped,” Harris, the A-team leader, said dryly.
“Gareth’s not the eloping sort,” Jesse said. He sent Flores a friendly smile, which
softened his scarred face. “Flores might be, though.”
“Here’s a celebratory jar of honey,” York said, shoving another jar into Gareth’s hand.
Gareth coughed. “What, did Perry make you give some away?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” York looked sheepish. “Some of them were starting to
crystallize.”
“We’ll put it to good use,” Flores said, smiling innocently. Alec whistled. Flores
frowned. “I meant in food! Have you given some to Ben?”
At that, Alec scowled. Gareth elbowed him. “Time to get off your ass, Alec,” Gareth
said. “Ben won’t wait forever for you.”
Alec spluttered. Brad stepped up, shaking Gareth’s hand. Brad played the violin on the
side, and he’d helped Gareth compose that proposal song. “I still owe you,” Gareth
said. “Tell me how I can make it up.”
Brad grinned. He was a younger alpha who had married his professor—Ian was in the
audience with their children. “Count it as a really early wedding gift,” Brad said with a
shrug. “I’m just glad to have helped.”
“Gareth said you might have some flamethrowers,” Flores said to Nate.
“I’m not pulling any flamethrowers right now.” Nate shot Gareth a pointed look, like he
was saying, Quit telling everyone and their mother about my employment history.
Gareth tried an innocent smile—something he’d picked up from Flores—but he wasn’t

sure it looked innocent at all. Nate rolled his eyes.
Dom stopped next to Gareth, waiting until the rest of the team drifted back to their
seats. In a lower tone, he said, “Looks like you’re finally ready for this.”
Gareth shrugged. He knew Dom was talking about Derek, though. “I’ve been ready for
a while.”
Over the last year, Gareth had imagined broaching this topic with Derek. He’d
wondered what it’d be like if Derek and Flores ever met. Then he’d imagined their
positions reversed—if Derek had been the one alive instead, whether Gareth would be
mad that Derek had found another alpha.
Gareth had decided that he’d be glad to have Derek seek happiness, instead of lingering
in grief. Only then had he realized that Derek probably felt the same way—he’d be
satisfied that Gareth had found his happiness with Flores.
Maybe Derek was watching them from the heavens right now, a smile on his face. With
the pictures Flores had painted of him, Derek probably would like Flores a lot.
Dom studied Gareth for a while longer. Then he squeezed Gareth’s shoulder, smiled,
and said, “Congrats.”
Gareth wanted to ask if Dom would seek his own happiness, too, but now wasn’t the
time for it.
“Shoo, Dad,” Sawyer said. “You’re supposed to stand on the other end of the aisle.”
Gareth grinned, pulling Sawyer into a hug. “Thanks for volunteering.”
Sawyer smiled and shrugged, holding his arm out to Flores. Flores dropped a quick kiss
on Riley’s cheek, squeezed Gareth’s hand, and then waved them off. “We really are
late,” Flores said, eyeing the minister nervously. “We’ve been keeping everyone
waiting.”
“A few minutes is nothing compared to a year,” Gareth teased.
“Can I wriggle down the aisle like a snake, Uncle Carrot?” Caleb asked next to him.
Caleb was now six, and just as adorable. “Papa said snakes hide in bushes, not in
pants.”
Flores choked on his laugh. Gareth was just glad that Perry wasn’t here to overhear his
son.
“Why don’t you do your snake dance instead?” Gareth answered. “That way, everyone
can see you.”
Caleb beamed. Gareth left him with Flores and Sawyer, striding down the aisle. At the
front row, he left Riley with Perry—Riley would be able to see Gareth from here, and he
wouldn’t feel so alone.
Then the music began; Caleb tried his best to walk slowly. He didn’t quite manage,
though, when his snake dance meant he was still a wriggling, jumping little human. He
held the rings in his fists, hop-skipping down the aisle. The omegas in the audience
cooed. When he reached Gareth, Caleb held the rings out with a big grin.
“Great work, Tadpole,” Gareth said. “Your dads are real proud of you.”
Caleb skipped off. Flores began the walk down the aisle, Sawyer by his side.
Everything else faded away. Gareth’s breath left his lungs as Flores stepped toward
him, wrapped in his oversized shirt, his cheeks pink.
It had been a long journey to get here. Gareth had harbored misconceptions about
Flores, and Flores had thought the worst of him. But they’d thawed around each other.
Gareth had peeked into Flores’ soul, a little at a time. He’d found someone beautiful
inside, someone he wanted to protect.
With Gareth, Flores had learned to smile and laugh again. He’d left those who hurt him,
and blossomed under Gareth’s care. He’d brightened the darkest corners of Gareth’s
heart. With Flores, Gareth had begun to live again, and he’d found a renewed purpose
to his life. He’d taught Flores new skills. In return, Flores had taught him to be young
once more.
Every step Flores took felt like part of their journey to get here. With how much his
omega had grown, Gareth was proud, so proud that his vision blurred a little.
Today, Flores would become legally his.
Flores reached the end of the aisle, slipping his small fingers into Gareth’s hand.
Protectiveness welled up in Gareth’s chest. He brought Flores’ hand to his lips, kissing
his knuckles. “You’re so beautiful,” Gareth murmured.
Flores’ cheeks turned pinker. “So are you.”
“Me, beautiful?”
“Yes.” Flores grinned.
“Even with all these wrinkles and white hair?” Gareth teased.
Flores rolled his eyes, leaning into Gareth’s side. He smelled like peony and applewood,
like Gareth’s. “It’s not like I don’t have wrinkles on my belly,” Flores said.
Those were left over from his pregnancy, but Gareth didn’t mind. “Just means we
match,” he said.
Flores bit down his laugh. He was so happy now—far happier than the boy Gareth had
once promised to watch over. Gareth couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Do you, Flores Agassi, take Gareth Brown to be your lawful alpha from this day
forward?” the minister asked.
“I do,” Flores said, his voice wobbling with emotion.
“And do you, Gareth Brown, take Flores Agassi to be your lawful omega from this day
forward?”
“I do,” Gareth growled.

“You may exchange your rings.”
Their rings were a custom order from Meadowfall Dreams—white gold bands with a
vine carved around the outside, little flowers and apples hanging off it in intricate
detail. Gareth handed Flores his ring. Together, they slipped the rings onto each other’s
fingers—a perfect fit, one that made Flores beam.
“You are now husband and husband,” the minister said. “You may kiss.”
Gareth only half-heard him. He swept Flores into his arms, sliding his fingers into
Flores’ hair, capturing his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. “Mine, Flower,” Gareth
breathed. His heart was so full, it could burst. Flores was his to protect, and love.
“Never letting you go again.”
Flores leaned into his embrace, joy overflowing in his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
And there was nothing that could make their lives more perfect than this.
F LORES PAINTED the last white highlights on his cityscape mural, turning around to
check on his son. “What do you think, Riley? Do you think Daddy would like this?”
Instead of playing with his stuffed monkeys on the colorful rubber mats, Riley had
crawled quietly to the other side of the room, poking his fingers into the jars of paint
Flores had left open. His face was covered in streaks of white and yellow, and when he
looked at Flores, he grinned.
Riley so knew he was being naughty.
“Riley,” Flores squawked, mentally kicking himself for not screwing on the jar lids.
He’d thought Riley would stay put on his play mat, but no. Flores set down his palette,
hurrying over to his son. At least the paints were child-safe.
Riley squealed when Flores scooped him up, holding him close. “Bad,” Flores chided
softly.
Riley gave a toothy smile and patted Flores on the face, leaving sticky paint on him, too.
Flores shook his head, laughing. “I can’t stay angry with you!”
At a year old, Riley was growing fast. He had Flores’ dark hair and Gareth’s moss-green
eyes, and he loved babbling whenever Flores or Gareth was around. With his own
turbulent childhood, Flores had thought he would have problems being a dad—but
Riley made it so easy to love him.
“Aa daa woo,” Riley said, sticking his yellow-smeared fingers into his mouth.
Flores groaned, pulling Riley’s fingers out. “Time to get us both in the shower.”
The front door clicked shut. His heart skipping, Flores hurried out of the bedroom in
search of his husband. “Daddy’s home,” he whispered at Riley. “Think we can surprise
him? Shh!”
Riley grinned, but he didn’t understand. When he grew older, he would become such a
great co-conspirator.
Cradling his son against himself, Flores padded into the hallway, peeking around the
wall. Gareth was kicking off his shoes, his back turned. Flores’ entire chest filled with
warmth.
It was always so nice, having Gareth come home to them. Every day he spent with his
alpha, Flores was grateful—for someone to belong to, for someone who had promised
to stay by his side. And every day, Gareth kept that promise.
Riley’s gaze fixed onto Gareth, too.
“Say ‘Dada,’” Flores murmured in his ear.
“Dada,” Riley said.
Flores’ heart stopped. That was Riley’s first word. And Gareth turned, his gaze locking
onto them.
“Say it again,” Flores whispered. “Dada.”
“Dada.” Riley patted Flores’ chest.
Gareth prowled closer, his eyes so dark that Flores stopped breathing. “You’ve been
teaching him that?” Gareth growled, sliding his arm around Flores’ waist, pulling them
both against his strong chest.
“Yes?” Flores snuggled into him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He hasn’t said it before
today.”
Gareth leaned in, slanting their lips together in a hot, sweet kiss. Flores purred,
breathing in applewood and smoke and peony—he’d marked Gareth before he left for
the station. Gareth still wore his scent. Mine.
In their arms, Riley babbled, wanting some attention, too. Gareth broke the kiss and
squeezed Flores’ ass, dragging his wrist up under Flores’ shirt to renew his marking.
Then he dropped a kiss on Riley’s forehead.
“How’s our son doing?” Gareth tickled Riley’s chin. Riley grabbed his fingers.
“He ate some paint.” Flores winced. “I need to give him a shower. And maybe wash his
mouth out, too.”
Gareth snorted. “He’s just like you, huh? Mouth washes for everybody.”
Flores grinned. “I haven’t been talking dirty, Sir Carrot. Riley, your daddy has another
name, you know. He’s Sir Carrot. Say ‘Carrot’.”
Gareth smacked his ass. Flores yelped. Riley squealed with laughter.
“Or would you rather be Daddy Carrot instead?” Flores asked as innocently as he
could. “Say ‘Daddy Carrot’, Riley,”
Riley babbled. “Kkk.”
“Gods, you’re serious about that.” Gareth slapped Flores’ ass again. “Is that your way
of asking for punishment?”
Flores perked up, his body tingling. He hadn’t been punished in a while. “Yes, Mr.
Carrot. Actually, maybe I should teach Riley that. Mr. Carrot.”
Gareth growled, pinning Flores and Riley against the wall. Then he kissed Riley’s paint-
smeared cheek, and slapped Flores’ thigh. “Your Papa’s an imp,” Gareth told Riley.
“Soon as you fall asleep, I’ll have to teach him a lesson.”
Flores laughed. “Are you teaching me a lesson with your imp?”
“No, with my carrot,” Gareth said, giving a sharp smile.
Flores ran through their fridge’s contents in his mind. “We have carrots?”
“We will soon.” Gareth glanced at the paint on Flores’ face, and the smudges on Riley’s
hands. “Go wash up. I’ll be back. Grocery store.”
Flores stared. “You’re really getting carrots.”
“Yup. You’ve pushed too far with the carrot thing.” Gareth grinned.
“You know that I hate the taste of raw carrots, right?” Flores wondered just how many
carrots Gareth would buy. “I’m not eating them raw.”
Gareth’s smile only grew. “You’ll take my carrot raw.” He slipped his fingers between
Flores’ thighs, stroking Flores so lightly that Flores parted his legs, hoping for more.
But Gareth pulled his touch away, leaving Flores wanting. “Grab a shower,” Gareth
said. “I’ll be back.”
With that, Gareth disappeared through the door, leaving an emptiness in the house
again. Flores sighed. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done that. Now Daddy’s going to bring
all the carrots back. Ew.”
Riley babbled, sticking his slobbery fingers into Flores’ mouth. Flores gagged. Riley
giggled.
In the tub, Flores made sure to scrub the paint off Riley. He washed the colors
halfheartedly off himself, missing his alpha.
Gareth returned while Flores was playing with their son, trying to tire Riley out so he’d
fall asleep.
“Where are the carrots?” Flores asked suspiciously. There were none on Gareth.
“Fridge.” Gareth scooped their son into his arms, blowing a raspberry against Riley’s
tummy. Riley shrieked.
Gareth had to be tired from his shift at the station. But he swung Riley into the air; Riley
squealed. “Go clean your brushes,” Gareth said, nodding at the doorway. “The
painting’s beautiful. You look better, though. Sorry.”
They’d been together for close to two years, and Flores still wasn’t used to Gareth
thinking of him as beautiful. Sometimes, Flores he wished Gareth would think the
world of his latest masterpiece. He’d put so many hours into each of those murals.
Flores kissed Gareth, before hurrying out to clean his mess. He rolled up the tarp on the
floor, capped the lids on all his paints, and tucked them somewhere Riley couldn’t
reach. Then he set to work rinsing the paint out of his brushes—this took the most time.
When the brushes were clean, Flores removed his painting shirt and pants, hurrying
back into the bedroom for a fresh set of clothes.
He crashed into Gareth and lost his balance. His heart stopped. I’m falling.
“Whoa.” Gareth steadied him with cold fingers. “In a hurry?”
Flores’ panic faded. He leaned into his alpha, filling his lungs with Gareth’s scent. “Yes,
sir. I wanted to come find you.”
Gareth rumbled, pleased. He shut the door and backed Flores across their bedroom,
stopping next to the window.
“Wait, what about Riley?” Flores asked.
“He’s napping. He might wake soon.” Gareth kissed Flores on the lips, sliding into his
mouth. Flores welcomed him inside. After a whole day without his sir, every touch felt
so intimate. Especially when Gareth stroked his sides and brushed his fingers through
Flores’ hair, dipping into Flores’ mouth with his soft, damp tongue. Flores purred; he
loved being claimed.
Gareth broke the kiss and turned him to face the backyard.
Flores shivered. Every time Gareth pressed him against a window, it felt... forbidden.
Exciting. Like Gareth was claiming him in front of the world. And Flores was only
dressed in lace panties. It felt like he was entirely exposed, like anyone could peek over
the backyard walls and see how hard Gareth made him. Flores gulped, heat swooping
between his legs.
“Mm, that’s it.” Gareth brushed his nose against the crook of Flores’ shoulder, breathing
in his musk. “Get wet for me.”
“It’s not like I can help whether I get wet,” Flores said.
Gareth growled louder. “Even better.”
He squeezed Flores’ ass through the lace, rough fabric catching on Flores’ skin. Flores’
breath snagged in his throat. This felt gentle, more like when they made love at night.
“What, no punishment today?” Flores asked breathlessly.
Gareth laughed, slipping his fingers under the lace. “You want to be punished?”
“If I teach Riley to call you Wrinkly Sir Carrot, would you—”
“Brat.” Gareth slapped his ass, hard. Pain and pleasure twisted down Flores’ nerves; he
gasped, his cock growing full.
He needed more insults. He needed to rile Gareth up. “Maybe that isn’t enough. What
about Wrinkly Old Daddy Carrot?”
“I’m not wrinkly,” Gareth growled, hitching the lace up, wedging it between Flores’
asscheeks so it scraped against his hole. Gareth slapped Flores’ bare cheeks, two hard
strikes that went straight to his cock.
Flores squirmed. His ass stung in the sweetest way. “What if I teach Riley to say
Wrinkliest Mr. Carrot Ever? Is your carrot wrinkly? It is, isn’t it—”
Gareth narrowed his eyes. Then he beat Flores’ ass, the loud strikes ringing out through
the room. Flores yelped. “Damn you,” Gareth rasped in his ear. “You like doing this,
don’t you?”
“Are you getting hard?” Flores panted. “Maybe I should tell everyone at the station that
your wrinkly carrot gets you off—”
“Boy,” Gareth growled, reaching down to grasp Flores’ cock through the lace. Pleasure
hissed down Flores’ nerves; he arched, rubbing his cock against Gareth’s palm. Gareth
squeezed him tighter.
“What if I bring a limp carrot to the station?” Flores gasped. “And—And I waved it
around?”
Gareth growled and struck his ass, a vicious impact that made Flores’ spine arch. Flores
tried to squirm away; Gareth tightened his fist around Flores’ cock, hauling him back.
“I dare you to,” Gareth growled, his breath hot on Flores’ ear. “If you show up at the
station with that—” Gareth cracked his palm across Flores’ ass “—you’re gonna get
punished right there. In front of everyone. Maybe I’ll show them what a pretty pink
your ass gets.”
Flores gulped, his cock growing so hard, it hurt. Having Gareth claim him publicly?
“Will you put your wrinkly carrot inside me in front of everyone?”
“I’m not wrinkly.” Gareth growled and struck Flores’ ass again, hard enough that he
cried out, his bottom throbbing.
“Yes, you are. You’re just afraid to show it—”
Gareth punished his ass, a relentless spanking that ramped up the longer it went on,
until Flores’ bottom hurt, his cock shoving against the confines of his lace, his precome
leaking through the fabric.
“I think you’re overcompensating,” Flores whispered.
“What was that?” Gareth hissed, grasping Flores’ asscheeks, pulling them apart to
expose his hole. As though he was preparing open Flores up.
Flores shuddered, slick trickling down his thighs. “You’re overcompensating for your
limp, wrinkly carrot,” he hissed.
Gareth struck him hard across the ass. “I’ll show you ‘limp’,” Gareth growled, pulling
aside the bunched-up lace between Flores’ cheeks. Cool air brushed Flores’ hole.
Then something cold and hard nudged between Flores’ cheeks. It was bumpy,
somewhat thick. Not the velvet of Gareth’s tip.
Flores gasped, turning to see what it was. Before he could, the object pushed right
against his hole, its pressure forcing him to open around it. Flores moaned, his body
yielding to that cold, foreign object. It was inside him, stretching him. “Wh-What...?”
Gareth’s smile was razor-sharp. “Like my carrot, boy?”
Then he pushed it halfway in, a flash of orange that disappeared inside Flores’ body,
opening him. Flores moaned. It was big. A carrot. Flores had never seen a carrot that
huge.
“Fuck,” Gareth growled, sliding the carrot partway out. “You’re so fucking wet.” Then
he pushed the carrot back into Flores, in and out, its uneven surfaces raking against
Flores’ insides, sending bliss through his body.
Flores dripped. “I—I don’t like raw carrots,” he gasped. A carrot had no right to feel
this good.
“You don’t get a choice, boy,” Gareth rasped, pushing the carrot deeper. He grasped
Flores’ ass again, spreading it. “Fuck. Love how you’re stretched open around my
carrot. Such a pretty hole, boy. Spread just for me.”
Flores blushed. And Gareth pushed the carrot deeper, until the pressure increased
inside him and Flores scrabbled against the window, his tip shoving out past his
foreskin, his precome drenching his panties.
“Gareth—”
Gareth slapped his ass. “Try again.”
He raked the carrot against Flores’ prostate, an insistent pressure that rocked back and
forth, condensing Flores’ need into a heavy tension he couldn’t ignore. “G-Gareth,
please—”
“You’ll call me sir,” Gareth snarled, cracking his palm across Flores’ ass.
Then he pulled Flores’ cock out of his panties and shoved the carrot deep. Bright-white
pleasure crashed through Flores, tearing all his thoughts away.
Flores stopped breathing. The sensations carried him into the next plane of existence,
and for a long moment, he couldn’t think. Vaguely, he heard the rasp of a zipper.
“Now you’re ready for me,” Gareth growled, sliding the carrot out of Flores’ body. It
fell onto the floor with a thud.
Flores sagged against the window, just catching his breath. Gareth made me come with a
carrot. That felt so weird.
“Present for me,” Gareth growled.
Flores reached for his asscheeks, pulling them apart. Behind, Gareth’s breath punched
out of him.
“Been thinking about claiming you,” Gareth whispered, shoving his thick, hungry cock
against Flores’ hole, just to show Flores what he had to look forward to. Flores
wheezed. He’d just come, but he wanted his alpha inside him, claiming him properly.
Gareth’s cock promised. “Think I’m overcompensating?” Gareth murmured.
No, he really wasn’t. “Yes,” Flores said.

Gareth grasped Flores’ ass and squeezed hard, so pain prickled down his nerves. Flores
gasped and arched, offering his ass to his alpha. Gareth pinned him against the
window. Flores’ chest dragged against the glass, and his cock smeared the sticky come
he’d left on the windowpane.
It was embarrassing, and exhilarating. Especially when Gareth rocked his hips, his
blunt tip dragging over Flores’ hole, almost pushing into it. At the last moment, it
skidded off, sliding up Flores’ crack.
Flores whined. Gareth bit his earlobe, sharp points sinking into Flores’ skin. “I’m
wrinkly, huh?” Gareth growled, rocking his hips again.
His tip pushed hard against Flores’ hole, a lewd, slippery kiss. Then it skidded away
again. Flores whimpered, his body needing to be filled. He angled his hips up. “Please,
sir.”
Gareth’s breath hitched. “Please what?”
“Please claim me, sir,” Flores begged, his insides growing hotter. “I want your come,
sir.”
Gareth groaned, gripping Flores’ hips painfully tight. Over his shoulder, Flores
glimpsed Gareth grasping his cock. Then he angled his tip right against Flores’ hole and
pushed, breaching his entrance. Flores took him, Gareth opening his body wider than the
carrot had.
Gareth didn’t wait for Flores to adjust. He sank all the way inside, and he was so big
that Flores couldn’t breathe. “S-Sir!”
“I’m overcompensating?” Gareth murmured, burying every inch into Flores. Flores
panted, his cock twitching, leaking, his body so stimulated that he could only tremble.
“Y-Yes,” Flores hissed.
Gareth shoved him against the window and snapped his hips, fucking in deep. Flores
arched, heat pooling between his legs.
“Say that again,” Gareth growled, fucking deep.
His cock was a decadent weight inside Flores, fitting him perfectly like they were two
parts of a puzzle piece coming together. Flores could barely remember what he’d been
teasing Gareth with. “Your—Your cock,” he gasped, moaning when Gareth thrust hard
into him. “You’re—overcompensating for it.”
Gareth bit into Flores’ scent gland, growling when Flores hissed in response. “Yeah? So
you don’t want it?”
He pulled his cock out completely, leaving Flores empty. Flores thrashed, whimpering.
“S-Sir!”
“What do you want?”
“Claim me,” Flores sobbed, his cock aching. “Please, sir.”
Gareth swore. Then he slammed back into Flores, and everything was right again.
Flores cried out. Gareth massaged him inside, driving hard, lighting up every single
one of his nerves.
Flores’ pleasure swelled until he was panting and on the edge, Gareth’s strokes growing
feverish.
“Mine,” Gareth growled, dragging his wrists down Flores’ chest, marking Flores with
his applewood scent. “All mine.”
“Yours, sir,” Flores panted. He reached up to grasp Gareth’s hair; Gareth swore and
fucked in deep, his cock growing thicker, his arms wrapped around Flores to anchor
them together.
“Come for me, Flower,” Gareth rasped, stroking Flores’ cock, slow and snug, his
calluses catching against Flores’ skin. “Sing for me.”
Flores’ release rocked through him. He shuddered and arched against his alpha, his
body clenching, a cry tearing from his throat as he took his alpha’s cock.
Gareth swore, plunging a last time into Flores. Then he pressed Flores against the
window, sinking his teeth into Flores’ scent gland, deep enough to mark him.
Flores jerked, pain and pleasure hissing down his nerves. It wasn’t the second time
Gareth had bitten him there. It wasn’t even the third.
Gareth had marked him countless times on his neck, and Flores still hadn’t had enough
of his markings. Sometimes, Gareth marked him on his other shoulder. Sometimes,
Gareth bit his wrists instead. All the markings on Flores’ body meant he belonged, and
Flores loved it whenever Gareth gave him a new one.
“Mine,” Gareth growled, anchoring Flores against himself. His knot swelled slowly
inside Flores, stretching him, locking them together.
“If—If Riley wakes up, you’ll be stuck to me like that,” Flores whispered.
Gareth rumbled, dragging his wrists down the rest of Flores’ body. “Yeah, you’ll be
stuck with me overcompensating for the next half hour.”
Flores laughed breathlessly. “You aren’t actually overcompensating.” He blushed. “I

was just making you mad.”
Gareth huffed and caught his breath. “Yeah? Big enough for you?” There was a smile in
his voice. Then he rolled his hips, pushing his knot deeper into Flores. Pleasure
burrowed through Flores’ body; he wheezed. Gareth kissed his ear. “I love it when you
let me mark you,” Gareth rumbled, kissing the new bite mark on Flores’ neck. “I love
that you’re mine.”
That made Flores’ heart flutter, all over again. “You aren’t even looking at the painting.
The nightscape’s done.”
Gareth glanced at the bedroom wall, appraising Flores’ latest mural for a long moment.
Then he buried his nose in Flores’ hair, hugging him close. “It’s beautiful. But you’ll
always be the most beautiful piece of art to me. Sorry. As much as the cityscape is good
enough to go into a museum and everything.”
Flores pouted. “At least look at the details.”
Gareth laughed. “Okay.” He turned them away from the window, shuffling them
awkwardly to the other side of the room, where the cityscape was. There, Gareth
wrapped his arms around Flores, leaning in to inspect his art. “Makes me remember
that very first time,” Gareth rumbled in his ear. “On Licorice Street, when I saw your
painting. Looking back, that was probably life-changing.”
It was. Gareth had become so warm around Flores after that, and Flores hadn’t been
able to help falling in love.
Gareth traced the white lines against the velvet blue of the night sky, following the stars
speckled above the city. “You painted the Scorpio constellation?”
Flores perked up. That was Gareth’s horoscope. “You recognize it?”
Gareth kissed his temple. “Yeah. Sawyer showed it to me some time back, when he was
in his astronomy phase. It reminded me of a ladle.” Gareth grinned. Then he followed
the stars to the next constellation—Flores’. “Let me guess, that’s for Virgo. And...
Aries?”
For Riley. Flores beamed. “You guessed them all.”

Gareth looked at the empty sky around the close-knit constellations for a while. Then he
said, hesitantly, “You left space around our constellations. Does that mean...”
Flores blushed. “Maybe? I figured, if you wanted another child, or if we happened to

have another...”
Gareth’s face lit up. “You want to?”
“At some point, I want to return to performing again,” Flores said, his heart skipping.
He hadn’t really talked about this with Gareth before. “I don’t know how it’s going to
work out. But if we happen to have another baby, I could delay it for a while longer. “
Gareth rumbled and tightened his arms around Flores, kissing Flores everywhere he
could reach. “We’ll figure things out, Flower. I’ll make sure you get time to dance
again.”
Flores brightened, a weight he wasn’t aware of slipping away from his heart. “Thank
you, sir.”
Gareth cradled his cheek, kissing him again. Flores met his lips, feeling loved.
Over in the next room, Riley babbled. Flores barely heard him. “Riley’s awake.”
Gareth nuzzled him. “Such sharp ears, Flower.”
Flores laughed. “He sneaked behind me and got paint all over himself anyway.”
“That was adorable.” Gareth’s eyes crinkled. “You still have his handprints on your
face.”
“Oh.” Flores hadn’t realized the shapes could still be identified. “Should I wash it off?”
“Maybe. It feels like he marked you, too.” Gareth laughed. Then he squeezed Flores’
ass, where it still stung a little. “Guess we both did.”
Flores grinned. As Gareth wrapped a towel around their joined hips, shuffling them out
toward the nursery, Flores couldn’t help the bubble of joy expanding to fill his chest. He
hadn’t expected to be this happy making a family with Gareth. He hadn’t expected to
have a family who accepted him for who he was. But with Riley and Gareth by his side,
it felt as though he’d found a place where he truly fit in.
“I love you, you know,” Flores said.
Gareth smiled warmly, shuffling them over to where their son waited. “I know.”
Imagine crashing into your way-too-handsome firefighter stepbrother. Now imagine
being snowed in with him. While you’re in heat. (Spoiler: Someone ends up with a
baby)
Divorced and a single dad, the thought of attending his cousin’s wedding fills Ben with
dread. His own marriage ended in failure; he has no desire for another alpha. Except he
had an alpha once—sort of. He’d grown up with Alec, and Alec had protected him,
Alec had held him when he’d cried.
With Alec, Ben had felt safe and loved. With Alec, Ben had been happy.
Until that messed-up Spin-the-Bottle game, when Alec had been forced to kiss Ben.
Everything had changed in that instant: Alec had seen Ben’s desire. And he had left.
By himself, Ben has made terrible choices. He has gotten into trouble, and he’s still in
trouble.
When he takes a chance and attends the wedding, he finds himself stuck in a cabin with
a stepbrother who now hates him. Worse, his heat is approaching. The last thing Ben
wants… is for Alec to discover how much Ben’s still in love with him.
(Spoiler: Alec doesn't hate Ben at all. Alec has a crush, and he's been keeping secrets.
Secrets that involve Ben.)
T HE WEDDING CEREMONY was crowded⁠—at least, to Ben it was.
High up in California’s San Bernardino Mountains, with angry gray clouds looming
overhead and fifty relatives crammed into the chapel’s tiny garden, Ben struggled to
breathe.
He hadn’t met most of his relatives in ages, for good reason: his aunts had been
beaming and asking where his alpha was, and the ones who hadn’t⁠—they’d asked
when he was having his next child.
Then they’d proceeded to tell him how their own sons and daughters had found such
perfect bondmates⁠—enough to make Ben’s stomach turn.
Ben no longer had an alpha. He wasn’t ready for another child. Ben’s Buns was still in
debt, and he didn’t need the extra pressure of an alpha or a second child making
everything worse.
Just this morning, his assistant, Vic, had texted to say that Xav had to take another day
off, leaving them understaffed yet again. It wasn’t great for business. Not when Ben’s
Buns was sinking slowly like a leaking boat in the middle of the ocean, with no land in
sight.
He breathed out the lump of growing anxiety in his chest. Things would get better.
After the ceremony, after they’d had a good night’s sleep, he’d hurry home with Izzy,
and try to fix everything again.
Somehow.
“Will you, Theo Middleton, take Sidney Allwell to be your lawful alpha?” the minister
asked.
Ben fingered the empty spot on his ring finger. It felt so good, not having a wedding
band there. He wasn’t even envious of Theo. To everyone else, that probably seemed
strange for a twenty-six-year-old to say.
“Uncle Theo looks so pretty in his dress,” seven-year-old Izzy whispered. “Will you get
married in a dress too, Daddy?”
Ben wet his lips. “No, I won’t be getting married in a dress.” Or ever again.
Even if Izzy sometimes looked up from the TV and asked, Do you think there are good
alphas out there?
William rarely showed his face again, even before the divorce papers were finalized.
He’d left debts in Ben’s name, he’d moved on to a slew of other omegas. He’d left deep
scars all over Ben’s arms; ugly red markings that Ben made sure to hide, every time he
met someone else. All Ben felt was an unerasable filthiness from having married that
alpha.
Ben had come home one day, hoping to find his alpha taking care of their son. What
he’d found instead was William fucking some other omega in their bedroom, on their
bed, and Izzy had been sniffling by himself inside a closet. Ben had broken down and
yelled at William to leave, and William had hit him. Again.
The memory left a sour taste in Ben’s mouth. No, he wasn’t marrying, and no, he wasn’t
looking for another alpha. One had already been too many.
He forced himself to calm down. He breathed in the chilly evening air, looking at the
golden fairy lights strung up on the red-leafed trees. Theo’s wedding gown sparkled
like it was made of a thousand fireflies, and Ben admitted to himself that it was pretty.
He hoped Theo’s alpha would treat him well.
The only alpha Ben trusted... his stomach flipped. That would be Alec, his stepbrother.
Except Alec hated Ben.
Years back, before Ben had gotten married, before he’d even met William... there had
been Alec. Alec was his age⁠—Alec’s dad had married Ben’s mom when they were both
eleven, and they had become stepbrothers.
Ben had grown up sickly. Somehow, Alec had stuck by his side, waiting at the bus stop
for Ben so they could walk home together. Alec had helped Ben with his math
homework, and he’d brought home treats and cookies from school to share with Ben.
Once, Ben’s library book had almost become overdue. If they owed the library a fine,
Dad would beat them both. Alec had taken the book and run all the way to the library
to return it. He’d barely made it, too, just two minutes before closing. Then he’d
sprinted all the way home, and he’d been so late for dinner, Dad had beaten him
anyway.
Dad had been strict. Even so, Ben and Alec had both loved him. When Dad had died
from a heart attack, Alec had held Ben and wiped away his tears. He’d dropped kisses
all over Ben’s face, too⁠—his forehead, his nose, his cheeks.
That was probably the moment Ben had developed a crush on his stepbrother⁠—when
Alec had cradled him, murmuring into his ear.
Shame prickled his cheeks now. Ben stared at his cousin, trying to focus on the
wedding. But he couldn’t help remembering Alec’s arms around him, Alec sleeping in
bed next to him.
Ben had messed it all up.
He was supposed to keep his crush a secret. If Mom or Gran found out, they’d disown
him. And Alec... He was far too important for Ben to risk their relationship.
Except their high school friends had played Spin-the-Bottle one day. When Alec had
spun that bottle, it had slowed down, and the worst premonition had swallowed Ben’s
stomach. He’d forgotten to breathe, his heart turning somersaults. Then the bottle had
stopped, pointing right at him.
All their friends knew they were stepbrothers. And like seventeen-year-olds were wont
to do, they’d goaded Alec into kissing Ben.
Ben had craved Alec’s kiss⁠—he’d needed it for years. But Alec had looked uncertain,
he’d looked... wary.
Alec had crossed the circle, he’d knelt in front of Ben, and Ben’s ears had rung. Alec had
leaned in, pressing a clumsy kiss to his mouth. Alec’s lips had been soft, his breath hot
on Ben’s skin. He’d smelled like sweet soda.
That kiss had felt like an instant and an eternity.
Ben’s lips had tingled, his heart had felt like it would burst. Maybe his desire had
shown on his face, because the next moment, Alec’s expression had closed off, and he’d
left the circle, not even waiting for Ben before he went home.
Their friends had all looked at Ben. In Alec’s absence⁠—Alec must’ve seen how much
Ben wanted him, and he must’ve been disgusted⁠—Ben had realized how much he’d
screwed up. Did you like it? their friends had asked. Are you going to sleep with Alec?
Ben had shaken his head so hard, it had felt like his neck might snap. He’d said no.
He’d said it had felt terrible.
But he knew that Alec had seen something, he knew that Alec didn’t like what he’d
seen in Ben. When Ben returned home that night, Alec had been silent in their bedroom.
In the days after, he’d hardly spoken to Ben at all.
Ben had tried initiating conversation again. He’d felt awkward, ashamed. And Alec had
given him monosyllabic answers.
Soon after they’d graduated from high school, Alec had moved out, leaving Ben behind.
Ben had felt crushed, he’d felt dirty and rejected, and he’d sought out an alpha who
wanted him. Then he’d made the mistake of sleeping with William, marrying him,
and...
And now Ben’s life was a mess.
Somehow, he made it through the wedding ceremony. He joined the rest of the family
in the chapel’s side room, where a fancy restaurant had laid out a catered feast. Mostly,
Ben made sure that Izzy had enough to eat, he made sure that he’d plastered a smile on
his face, so no one would know how much the wedding had affected him.
“Hey.” Theo stopped next to Ben, his dress shimmering beneath the lights. “I’m glad
you could make it, Ben. I’m so sorry about the lodgings mix-up.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re fine.” Ben patted Theo’s hand, forcing a smile.
The rest of their extended family was staying overnight at the little resort town. Theo
and Sidney’s parents were paying for everyone’s accommodations, but in the booking
process, lodgings for Ben’s family had somehow been left out. By the time they’d
discovered the mistake, every hotel had been fully booked. Theo had only been able to
find a cabin for Ben, Izzy, Mom, and Gran two miles into the woods. That was before
Gran had slipped and fractured her hip.
“I hope Gran’s okay.” Theo frowned.
“She will be,” Ben assured him. “Mom’s taking care of her back home. She said Gran’s
doing better today.” Except... Mom didn’t like sharing bad news⁠—she didn’t want to
worry Ben.
Theo smiled, handing Ben a keyring. “Here are your keys. Temmie will drop you guys
off at the cabin. Sorry again.”
Ben was about to congratulate Theo, when he caught a whiff of a familiar scent⁠—teak.
Beneath the woodsy scents of alphas, the grassy scents of betas, and the floral scents of
omegas, that one smell stood out⁠—because it was the scent Ben had grown up with.
Alec.
He was here.
Ben’s stomach dropped. This was something he should’ve expected⁠—Alec was family.
Of course he was invited.
His pulse thundering, Ben dropped to a crouch to check on Izzy. It wasn’t to hide from
his stepbrother. (It so was.) “Did you have enough to eat?” Ben asked breathlessly. “Do
you want more?”
Izzy was looking at the dessert table in awe. “I want the strawberry cake.”
Ben couldn’t tell where Alec was, not by smell. His chest too tight, he took Izzy’s hand,
hurrying to the desserts. He scooped a square of pink cake onto a plate, straining his
ears.
“Sorry for missing the wedding,” Alec’s voice rumbled, rich and deep, sliding like
velvet down Ben’s spine. “I was on overtime trying to put out those wildfires. Drove
here as fast as I could.”
“I’m just glad you were able to make it,” Theo answered.
Alec laughed, and a jolt of envy coiled in Ben’s gut. He wanted Alec to smile at him. But
he’d lost Alec’s favor. He didn’t deserve to be in Alec’s presence, when he still harbored
his sick, twisted fantasies.
“It’s fine,” Alec said. “Anything for my favorite cousin.”
Ben’s throat tightened. Once upon a time, Alec had said, Anything for my favorite brother.
And that had been Ben.
Ben tugged Izzy closer, peeking over his son’s small shoulders.
“What’re you looking at, Daddy?” Izzy asked.
Heat swept through Ben’s face. “Just⁠—Just your uncle,” Ben mumbled.
Izzy turned to follow his gaze. “You mean, Uncle Alec?”
At the sound of his name, Alec turned.
He was the most beautiful alpha Ben had ever seen⁠—deep gray eyes, strong jaw, full
lips. Alec had dressed for the cold mountain weather, and he’d dressed so nicely. His
pecs stretched his fitted shirt and vest, and he was so broad that his jacket hung open,
teasing Ben with glimpses of his strong body. So much muscle. Alec’s biceps looked like
they might split his jacket sleeves, and the bulge at his hips⁠—gods.
Alec’s gaze locked onto Ben. Ben’s heart stopped. He wanted to burrow into the
ground. “No, no. I meant Uncle Theo.”
For the first time in years, Ben felt Alec’s attention rake over him, a slow slide that felt
like a lover’s caress. He felt naked, almost. As though Alec could see through his clothes
to his bare skin. And he remembered his fantasies⁠—he remembered thinking about
Alec’s lips on his throat, he remembered wanting Alec to kiss down his chest, down his
belly, between his legs.
Ben’s entire body scorched with shame.
“We need to go,” he wheezed, grabbing Izzy’s hand. “We’ll find Aunt Temmie, and
she’ll send us to the cabin.”
“My cake!” Izzy yelped. He tried to balance his strawberry cake on his plate, as though
it was his most precious thing.
Alec was still looking at Ben.
Feeling like a coward, Ben fled, his pants too tight.
“Temmie,” Ben gasped the instant he found his scatterbrained cousin. “Could you take
Izzy and me to our cabin, please?”
Temmie was the one who had done the initial round of hotel bookings. She gave a huge
smile. “Hi, Ben! Sure thing. Come this way.”
Ben tugged Izzy after her, helping to hold Izzy’s plate so the cake wouldn’t fall off.
“Where are we going?” Izzy asked. “Uncle Alec looked angry.”
Ben’s stomach shriveled. Alec did?
He didn’t feel comfortable until the chapel’s doors were firmly shut behind them,
separating him from Alec. Only then did Ben suck in a deep breath, his insides flushing
hot and cold. Alec’s here. Alec saw me. He’s not happy.
Temmie bounced over to her car. Ben didn’t feel her joy at all. He made sure Izzy
clicked on his seat belt, before climbing into the passenger seat next to Temmie. “Sorry,”
Ben said. “I’m just not feeling so well.”
He could still feel the weight of Alec’s gaze, his sheer presence. Alec burned like a
bonfire in the chilly night, and Ben wanted to step so close, he’d probably singe himself.
“Oh, don’t worry!” Temmie peered up at the now-dark sky. “It looks like it’s about to
snow bunches. Let’s get you to the cabin quick.”
Ben fidgeted, feeling like he might heave out all his dinner. Maybe that was all he’d see
of Alec. Tomorrow, he and Izzy would head back to Meadowfall, and Alec... would go
home by himself. They wouldn’t meet again. Ben wouldn’t have to know how much
more revolted Alec was with him.
It was only when they’d parked in front of the cabin⁠—a sprawling place, lit up by the
headlights in the pitch-darkness⁠—that Temmie said, “Oh! You didn’t happen to see
Alec, did you? I forgot to give him his cabin keys.”
She jingled another set of keys, identical to the one Theo had given Ben.
Ben blinked stupidly. “You... what?” Because surely he’d heard wrong.
“Alec.” Temmie beamed. “Did I forget to tell you? He’s bunking with you guys
tonight.”
Ben’s stomach scrunched into a tiny lump. His entire body had frozen. Alec, bunking
with them here? “H-He’s got somewhere else to stay, right?”
“Uh-uh. The hotels in town are fully booked.” Temmie tucked the keys into her pocket.
“Plus, you guys are family. There’s spare rooms here. Don’t you share a room at home
or something?”
“We don’t live with Uncle Alec,” Izzy said.
Ben swayed on his feet, scrambling to bring his thoughts together. Was there an
overnight bus back to Meadowfall? Would a taxi bring them home? “Is there a way you
could, um, send us to the bus stop instead?”
Temmie grimaced. “There’s a storm warning for tonight, Cuz. Bus services are all
cancelled. Plus, I gotta get back to the party. You’re missing out on the booze.”
“We really need to go home,” Ben blurted.
“But the party will go on for another two days.” Temmie looked pleadingly at him.
“We’ve booked the cabin for a whole week. You may as well stay for the duration.”
With Alec? Ben’s stomach twisted. “I-I can’t.”
Temmie peered at him. “I’ve made sure that there’s supplies,” she said earnestly. “All
the food in case you get the munchies. There’s even pills for diarrhea.”
“Ew,” Izzy said. “I don’t want to have diarrhea.”
“But I did not get condoms.” Temmie frowned, looking suspiciously at Ben. “You won’t
need them, will you?”
“No!” Who would he even use them with? Ben wanted to cry. He wasn’t touching any
condoms at all. Especially not with Alec around. Absolutely not.
Temmie patted him on the shoulder. “Then I think you’re all set.”
Ben whimpered. “Is there any way we can leave this place?”
“Alec has a car,” Temmie said. “He’ll give you a ride when he gets here. Should I leave
his keys with you?”
A... ride? Not that kind of ride. Ben shook his head frantically. “No, no. I’ll probably be
asleep by the time he gets here,” he lied. As though he’d sleep a wink tonight.
“All right, I need to head back. I’ll tell Alec I saw you!” Temmie hugged Ben and Izzy,
then hopped back into her car. She waited until Ben fumbled with the front door and
turned the porch lights on, before backing down the gravel driveway.
Then her taillights disappeared into the trees, and the growing wind howled around
them, leaving Ben with the most terrible feeling of doom.
Alec was on his way here. Ben wouldn’t survive the night. Not with the yearning and
dread twisting inside him.
And there definitely wouldn’t be any rides.
⁠
A LEC STARED at the closed chapel door, his heart heavy. He couldn’t forget the look on
Ben’s face⁠—the fear and horror, as though Ben had thought Alec would snap at him.
That wasn’t what I wanted, Alec thought. He hadn’t intended for Ben to be afraid of him
at all.
The moment Dom had released Alec from firefighting duty, Alec had rushed home and
hopped into the shower, scrubbing away the heavy scents of smoke and ash on his skin.
The Santa Ana winds⁠—hot, dry gusts⁠—had turned a spark into a blazing wildfire along
the southern California coast, and firefighters from the neighboring towns had all
pitched in to help.
The fire wasn’t extinguished yet, but they’d spent long enough on it that it was more
manageable now. Alec felt confident leaving the rest of his colleagues behind. So he
could attend this wedding.
For weeks, ever since he’d received the invitation, he’d debated on showing up.
He should, because he’d grown up with Theo before Theo moved away. He’d missed
seeing his aunts and uncles, and he was going to challenge Theo’s new husband, Sid, to
an arm wrestle or five. Just in case Sid had any funny ideas about treating Theo badly.
Except... showing up at the wedding meant possibly bumping into Ben.
Ben was the only omega Alec had ever crushed on. Still had a crush on, in fact.
It was just that Alec possessed the worst luck⁠—Ben was also his stepbrother. The one
person he wasn’t allowed to have.
Growing up, Alec had hugged Ben to sleep, he’d cuddled with Ben, tracing his scent all
over Ben before he woke up. That was shortly after he’d presented as alpha, and Ben
had presented as omega. They’d discovered that scents stuck on skin. When Alec had
brushed his wrists down Ben’s arms, Ben had smelled like teak.
The alphas on TV always made such a big deal about omegas smelling like them.
Maybe it was that influence, or maybe Alec just liked the way Ben wore his scent.
Somehow, he’d developed the idea that he could be Ben’s alpha.
He had been snuggling with Ben one morning, biting Ben’s shoulder while Ben was still
asleep, pushing his hand up Ben’s shirt to mark his chest⁠—when Dad had stepped into
their bedroom.
I’m marking Ben, Alec had told him. Ben is mine. Then he’d shown Dad Ben’s chest,
which he’d covered with his scent.
The fury that had rolled through Dad’s face⁠—he’d yanked Alec away from Ben, he’d
hauled Alec out of the apartment and beaten him mercilessly, until Alec had
whimpered and begged for him to stop.
He’s your brother, Dad had snapped. Don’t ever touch him like that again. Don’t you dare
take advantage of him.
Alec had been scared, and confused. Had he really taken advantage of Ben, when Ben
was always so eager to be comforted? When Ben had tucked his head under Alec’s chin
and pulled him closer, until they were chest-to-chest and Alec was breathing in the air
Ben exhaled?
Ben had fallen sick on and off. The kids at school dreaded becoming his friends, because
their parents had warned them about catching illnesses from him. They’d whispered,
too, whenever Alec kissed Ben’s cheek, or his temple. So Alec had stopped, only kissing
Ben in private.
Never on his mouth, though. He’d been too afraid of Dad’s beating to.
So that Spin-the-Bottle kiss... It had been everything Alec had dreamed of. And he’d
known that if he so much as kissed Ben for a second longer, if he even showed any
interest in his stepbrother... Their friends would judge Ben for it.
Ben was sweet and kind and fragile, and there was no way Alec would put him through
that.
So Alec had compromised. He’d told himself that he’d kiss Ben for one second, and pull
away.
What he hadn’t expected was the way his body reacted the moment their lips touched.
The way his blood pulsed and surged between his legs, and the desire to claim Ben, to
make Ben his... Alec had needed. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he’d desired his
stepbrother, and he’d scared himself with that desperation.
He’d yanked himself away and left, and he’d hidden in the bathroom at home, jerking
off three times before he could get Ben out of his head.
He’d remembered his dad saying, Ben is your brother. You will not touch him that way.
And his cock had been so shamefully hard, it had hurt the whole time.
Yeah, he still fantasized about Ben these days. It wasn’t something Alec was proud to
admit.
“Alec?” Theo asked, looking concerned.
“Hmm?” Alec tore his gaze away from the chapel door.
“Did you need to talk to Ben? You seem worried.”
“Oh. I’m⁠—I’m fine.” Alec swallowed.
In his mind, he could still see Ben crouching on the floor, small and thin, looking like he
needed a hug. His blond hair had been mussed, his mouth pink. Despite⁠—or maybe
because of⁠—the fear that had flickered in Ben’s blue eyes, Alec’s instincts clamored for
him to follow that omega. Just so he could breathe in that daisy scent again. Hold Ben
close and protect him.
“Have you spoken to Ben?” he asked.
Theo nodded. “He seemed distracted. I’m sorry to hear about Gran.”
Alec blinked. “Gran?”
Theo looked oddly at him. “Her hip fracture?”
Shit, Gran had fractured her hip? Alec hoped like mad he didn’t seem surprised. “Oh.
Yeah, I know about that.” And then he felt like an idiot, because he didn’t know if she
was getting better. He hadn’t been keeping in touch with Mom or Gran⁠—mostly so they
wouldn’t ask him to sit down to a family dinner with Ben.
After Alec had abandoned Ben, he wasn’t sure he could face him again.
Theo looked suspicious. “Did something happen?”
“No, not really.” How did you tell your cousin, I want my stepbrother in my bed? Alec
would probably alarm and disgust the rest of their family, and he didn’t want to
accidentally drag Mom into this, too. “I just... things are complicated.”
“How so?”
I can’t tell you that, Theo. You’d be horrified. Alec tried not to fidget.
“Alec! Hi!” Temmie thrust a set of keys in Alec’s face.

Alec flinched before a key could poke him in the eye. “Hey, Tem. How are things?”
“Good, good.” She beamed, bouncing on her heels. “I dropped Ben and Izzy off at the
cabin. Sorry I didn’t give you your keys earlier⁠—Theo and I split them up in case one of
us found you first.”
“Oh, yeah. Where am I staying tonight?”
“Ben’s cabin.” Theo looked hard at Alec. “Are you sure things are okay?”
Wait, what? Alec’s stomach flipped. “Wait⁠—”
Temmie crowded in, looking concerned. “Are things not okay? Ben sounded real
worried about something. Maybe you should talk to him.”
What was Ben worried about? And was Alec really bunking with Ben and his son?
Alec stared at the keys digging into his palm. For the past couple years, he’d
surreptitiously hung out around Ben’s bakery in downtown Meadowfall, just to make
sure that Ben was okay. Then he’d started asking Gareth for news about Ben, because
Gareth was a regular at the bakery.
But sleeping so close to Ben, sharing the same cabin as him, breathing in Ben’s daisy
scent... Alec’s heart skipped. His unease grew. He wasn’t supposed to get this close to
Ben, not when he harbored the sort of dirty thoughts he had. He didn’t trust himself not
to get hard in front of his brother. Hell, he was already half-hard from breathing in
Ben’s scent in the chapel.
“I’ll talk to him,” Alec heard himself say. “I’ll see if I can fix things.”
“That’s good.” Theo looked relieved.
“Ben said he might not be awake to open the door for you,” Temmie said.
“That’s fine.” Alec shoved the keys into his pocket. He would share a space with Ben
tonight, and just... sleep in the next room. He could have Ben close, close enough to
smell him, and hear his voice.
His entire body throbbed. Yeah, he didn’t regret coming to the wedding one bit. If Ben
was asleep, maybe Alec could peek into his room. Just to see him again.
Immediately after, he felt like a creep for thinking that. And his lips tingled at the
memory of Ben’s mouth against his own, Ben’s breath puffing against his skin. Gods, I
need to stop this.
“There’s a blizzard warning for tonight,” Theo said, glancing out the window. “You
might want to start heading over before you lose visibility. The cabin’s pretty deep into
the woods.”
“I will. Thanks.” Alec shoveled the rest of his dinner into his mouth, before setting his
plate on a passing waiter’s tray. His heart pounded.
He knew that Ben had been married. He didn’t know why exactly Ben had left his
alpha, but he’d sure as hell tracked down William Shakerley. That son-of-a-bitch
switched between omegas like he was playing hopscotch, and sometimes, there were
posts on his Facebook profile from omegas he’d cheated on, warning others to stay
away.
Just trying to guess what that bastard had done to Ben... it made Alec want to snarl and
punch someone. You didn’t treat your omega like someone disposable. Your omega
was your greatest treasure.
Alec shook off his fury and violence, stalking out of the chapel. He would go to Ben
tonight. Just to make sure Ben would be safe through the storm. And if Alec got hard,
well. He could deal with it behind closed doors. Ben would never find out.
⁠
I T WAS TAKING Alec forever to show up at the cabin. Ben tossed and turned in bed,
listening to the silence outside.
Half an hour ago, he’d put Izzy to bed after he’d tried to cover up their bedtime rituals.
Ben had pretended that they were on a great spy mission, and he’d read Izzy his
bedtime story with a flashlight⁠—so there would be no light shining from under the
bedroom door.
It had been for nothing, though⁠—Izzy had fallen asleep, and no one else had stepped
into the cabin at all.
Ben had brushed his teeth and huddled into bed next to Izzy, expecting the rumble of
an engine. He’d run through all the different scenarios in his mind and prepared for
them⁠—the duffel bag was in the room, and so were some emergency snacks. He had
water for both him and Izzy, and he’d silenced his phone, so it wouldn’t attract Alec’s
attention at all.
Except the person he was hiding from hadn’t shown up yet. Had something happened
to Alec?
Uneasy, Ben crept out of bed, using his phone to light the way through the cabin. It was
larger than he’d expected⁠—three bedrooms, a fully-functional kitchen, complete with a
pantry and an office. Not that they’d be staying past tomorrow morning.
He tiptoed into the living room, peering out through the window. It was dark out,
swirling snowflakes lit faintly by the crescent moon. Already, a thick layer of white had
blanketed everything.
Ben pulled his jacket more tightly around himself. It wasn’t very effective at retaining
heat⁠—maybe he shouldn’t have bought such a cheap jacket. But it wasn’t as though it
ever snowed back home. He leaned against the window pane, fogging up the glass with
his breath.
Maybe Alec had decided to bunk with someone else instead. But what if he’d met with
an accident trying to get to this place?
Ben bit his lip. He hesitated for a long moment, before flipping on the porch light. Then
he perched at the window, staring down the gravel driveway.
He lost track of time, just remembering Alec again. Imagining Alec happy with him,
Alec kissing him when they were both younger.
Then came the low rumble of an engine, the glow of a car’s headlights through the
snow. Ben’s insides dropped.
Alec was here.
He trembled, tucking himself out of sight, behind the curtains. The headlights shone
into the living room and lit up everything, and it felt as though Alec would be able to
look into the house, and see Ben.
His heart in his throat, Ben scurried out of the living room, ducking into his bedroom.
He shut the door and locked it.
Then he pressed his ear to the crack in the doorjamb, his heart pounding.
The front door opened and closed. Footsteps⁠—shoes dropping onto the floor. Alec was
taking his shoes off, just like Ben and Izzy had done.
Despite his fear, Ben couldn’t help remembering: that was something that was still the
same about Alec. They’d grown up walking around barefoot in the family apartment,
because Mom liked having the floors clean. Dad had always obliged, even though he’d
grumbled about it.
Somewhere in the cabin, Alec rumbled, “Damn, it’s cold in here.”
Ben wet his lips, pulling his jacket tighter. He’d checked the cabin, but all there was for
heat was a pile of firewood. He hadn’t wanted to accidentally burn down the cabin, so
he and Izzy were wrapped in jackets, and then some blankets.
After a while, Alec stepped through the rest of the apartment. He walked slowly,
deliberately, and outside Ben’s door, he paused.
There was just the door separating them both. Ben’s heart pounded so loud, he thought
Alec might’ve heard.
But Alec padded away, his footsteps almost silent as he slipped into the adjoining
bedroom. The door clicked shut. Ben breathed out his relief. If he and Izzy left early
tomorrow morning... maybe they might not even bump into Alec at all.
Feeling a little better, Ben retreated to his bed, climbing under the covers. Things
bumped in the next room. Then the sounds stopped, and Ben thought maybe Alec had
face-planted into his bed, and fallen asleep.
Which came at the right moment, because he suddenly needed to pee.
Just to be safe, he made himself wait another two minutes. That didn’t seem safe
enough⁠—he waited another three. Then, ever so carefully, he crept out of bed, unlocked
the door, and slipped out into the hallway.
Firewood crackled in the hearth, spilling golden light through the living room. Ben
stared. Ribbons of flame danced against the flagstones, warm and inviting.
Alec had done this. For the first time, Ben was... maybe glad that Alec was here.
He peeked at Alec’s door. No light, no sound. So he crept closer to the fireplace,

mesmerized by the flames. The wood crackled and popped. Heat brushed into Ben’s
face. He held his hands to the fire, sighing at the warmth seeping into his fingers.
Then he shrugged out of his jacket, so he could feel that heat all over him. With his
jacket hugged close, Ben leaned toward the fire, feeling its warmth radiate into his face.
It chased away all the cold from the wintry night.
“I thought you were asleep,” a voice rumbled behind him.
Alec. Ben’s heart stopped. He flailed. The jacket flew out of his arms, falling halfway
into the fire. Alec was here. And the fire began to melt through the cheap polyester of
the jacket.
Ben yelped, pulling the jacket out of the fireplace. Except it was burning now, bright
orange flames tearing through the fabric toward him. Fear clogged his throat. What do I
do?
Ben couldn’t move. Alec swore. He was next to Ben, suddenly, snatching the burning
jacket out of Ben’s hands.
Alec strode to the front door, flung it open, and threw the burning jacket out onto the
ground, kicking snow over it until it extinguished with a hiss. Then he returned,
yanking the door shut behind him. “Don’t do that,” Alec growled, his eyes flashing.
Now he hates me even more. Ben flinched, his stomach twisting into knots. And Alec
looked even madder⁠—he was angry at Ben, wasn’t he? Ben hugged himself.
Black smoke hung in the air⁠—remnants of the burning jacket. Alec strode to the
windows, throwing them open with sharp flicks of his wrist.
It had been an accident, but hot shame burned up Ben’s throat, scorching his face. Why
can’t I do anything right?
He inched away from Alec, trying to suppress the urge to flee. He’d messed up. He
should own up to it. He should⁠—gods⁠—he should thank Alec for stepping in. But Ben’s
voice had gotten stuck in his throat.
“Are you okay?” Alec asked, looking back.
Why’s he asking that? Ben held his breath, feeling hot and cold all over. Alec hated him.
Alec had found him so terrible, he’d left. And now Ben had to mess up again, staining
Alec’s already-terrible opinions of him.
Alec stepped closer. Ben backed away. “Ben?” Alec asked more softly.
Ben’s name sounded so good when Alec said it, all rumbling and low. He held his
breath, trembling, daring to just... look at Alec’s bare feet. Then his pants. Alec was still
wearing his formal trousers from the wedding dinner, his thick thighs stretching the
fabric.
From there, Ben couldn’t tear his eyes away. Alec had discarded his jacket, vest, and tie,
but the shirt clung to his chest, its top button undone, revealing the groove between his
pecs. Alec’s shoulders were broad, and he was muscular⁠—so strong that he was
probably twice Ben’s weight.
Ben had seen a number of alphas, but he’d seen no one like Alec Miller, the way Alec
prowled toward him, his gaze darkening. Ben’s stomach swooped.
He expected Alec’s words to flay him, he expected Alec’s contempt.
“Ben,” Alec growled.
Ben flushed hot all over. The way William had cheated on him, it had made him feel
worthless. Except Alec’s voice caressed his spine, it made him feel... different. Maybe
even special. “Wh-what?” he squeaked.
Alec backed him into the wall, stepping so close that their toes bumped and his face
was inches away from Ben’s.
Alec had grown in their years apart. The last time Ben had seen him, Alec had been
boyish and lanky, his muscles still developing. But now⁠—Alec’s biceps flexed, his pecs
rose with every breath. He was stunningly beautiful, he was a whole head taller, and
Ben felt far too tiny in front of him. He felt vulnerable in front of Alec, like Alec could
break him far too easily.
Except Alec also felt like a hearth, his warmth soaking through Ben’s shirt into his chest.
He caught Ben’s chin, tipping his face up. Alec’s breath rushed hot over Ben’s lips. His
gaze burned. His nostrils flared, like he was... smelling Ben? And he stroked his thumb
down Ben’s jaw, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.
Where was Alec’s disgust?
Alec leaned in so close, their faces were an inch apart. For a crazy moment, Ben thought
Alec might kiss him.
He couldn’t breathe. “If⁠—If you have something to say to me, please make it quick,” he
croaked. He waited for the sting of Alec’s words, he waited for Alec to break his heart.
“Sorry,” Alec whispered, releasing Ben’s face. Then he stepped away, his chest heaving,
his eyes locked onto Ben’s... mouth?
That was so far from what Ben expected, that he reeled. “What?”
Alec met his eyes. But that wasn’t revulsion in his gaze. Ben couldn’t tell what it was.
What just happened?
“I’ll put out the hearth fire and light the wood stove instead.” Alec looked away. “Do
you need another jacket?”
It would be so cold in the bedroom without one. Mutely, Ben nodded.
Alec left the living room, ducking into his bedroom. Moments later, he returned with
his suit jacket. “Here, take this.”
The jacket was heavy in Ben’s hands, and it smelled like teak. Ben wanted to wrap it
around himself, he wanted to pretend it was Alec’s arms around him. “Why⁠—Why...?”
“I don’t want you to be cold tonight,” Alec said. His gaze dropped to Ben’s mouth
again.
Ben gulped. “I⁠—I should help put out the fire. I shouldn’t let you do all the work.”
But Alec’s gaze only intensified. “I’ll be fine. Get some rest.”
Where was his hatred? Because Alec had to realize that Ben still wanted him, more than
ever before. Except he said nothing about it.
Confused, Ben staggered to his bedroom, clutching Alec’s jacket to himself.
It was only when he’d closed the door and locked it, that he pulled Alec’s jacket around
his shoulders, filling his lungs with that comforting teak scent. He crawled into bed,
pretending that Alec was here with him, that the jacket was Alec’s tight embrace. Sleep
claimed him immediately.
The next morning, Ben discovered that they were snowed in.
⁠
W ELL , shit. Alec stared at the snow piled high in the front door frame, a white wall
where the porch should’ve been. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He hadn’t slept enough⁠—his phone had begun buzzing nonstop, and he’d woken up...
only to realize he wasn’t at home.
Alec had remembered the wedding dinner. He’d remembered Ben last night, crouched
in front of the hearth, the firelight a golden halo around him.
Ben was even more beautiful, now that they were older.
Then Ben had gone and dropped his jacket into the fire, and he’d fucking picked it up.
Alec’s heart had stopped.
His nerves pulled tight with worry, Alec had snapped at Ben. And that had scared
Ben⁠—the one thing Alec hadn’t meant to do. Then he’d gotten mad at himself, and Ben
had looked like he’d wanted to flee.
I keep fucking up. Some alpha he was.
Disgusted at himself, Alec had crawled out of bed, trying to think up the best way to
apologize. The cabin was silent⁠—Ben and his son were probably still asleep. So Alec
had decided on making breakfast. Temmie had said there was food in the pantry.
Then it had struck Alec that the room looked wrong⁠—it was 7AM. The windows were
dark. He’d turned on the lights... and found the windows a solid wall of white.
Disbelieving, he’d gone to the front door and opened it. Instead of the gravel driveway
and his car, all he’d found was a wall of snow. It wasn’t just a thin wall, either. Alec
shoved his fist through the snow⁠—all the way to his elbow⁠—and no light shone in at all.
The wood stove popped somewhere in the kitchen. Alec’s hair stood on end. He’d left
the wood stove on last night. The windows were all closed, and by some miracle, they
hadn’t run out of air. Damn it. We could’ve all died in here.
Cursing at himself, he shut the vents on the wood stove to buy them time. He had to get
some air into the cabin. Was there a shovel around? Alec swallowed his panic.
In the bathroom, he found a small metal tub, the sort a grandma would use for laundry
in the old days. Then he found a bucket, hauling the two over to the front door.
Halfway through scooping the snow into the tub, the other bedroom door opened. “I’m
going to look in the kitchen,” Izzy said. “Do you want more food?”
Alec paused, looking back.
On the other side of the living room, Izzy blinked at him. He was a small kid, with
wispy blond hair just like his dad’s, and those same blue eyes. “What’re you doing,
Uncle Alec? Is that snow?”
A soft yelp came from the bedroom. Ben. Alec frowned. “Is your dad okay?”
Izzy looked over his shoulder. “I think so. Daddy’s under the blankets. Are you okay,
Daddy?”
Ben said something muffled. It sounded like he was fine, so Alec went back to
excavating. “We’re snowed in,” he told Izzy. “I need some help. Go to the kitchen and
look for the biggest pots. Bring them here.”
Izzy gasped. “We’re snowed in?”
“Yeah. We’re running out of oxygen.” Alec nodded at the shadowy cave he’d dug. “We
need to get air into the cabin real quick. I’d rather not empty all this snow onto the
floorboards. Get me a pot or two?”
“We’re snowed in, Daddy!” Izzy said. “And we’re running out of air! I gotta help Uncle
Alec.”
He scurried off to the kitchen, leaving Ben yelping in the bedroom. Moments later, Ben
emerged. Alec was in the middle of emptying his bucket when he looked up, glimpsing
Ben. He froze.
Ben’s flyaway hair was tousled⁠—he had terrible bed head. More importantly, he was
wrapped in Alec’s suit jacket from last night. It hung off his shoulders, looking far too
big on him. When Alec had handed it over, he’d expected Ben to use it as a blanket.
And now his jacket was hugging Ben, it had spent the night wrapped around Ben, and
Alec couldn’t believe he was jealous of his jacket.
“We’re really snowed in,” Ben mumbled, fidgeting. “How... do I help?”
Just stay close, was what Alec wanted to say. “I’m running out of space to dump the
snow. Gotta melt some on the wood stove. Can you do that?”
Ben nodded. For a moment, their gazes locked. Alec’s stomach flipped.
For all the hiding he’d done, hanging around Ben’s Buns but never stepping into the
bakery, for all that he’d lingered around Ben’s Facebook profile... Seeing Ben in person,
having Ben look at him⁠—it stole the breath from Alec’s lungs.
He wanted Ben. More than that, he wanted to matter to Ben, he wanted to make a
difference in Ben’s life. He wanted to make Ben smile.
Then he remembered Dad’s beating, he remembered the classmates whispering about

him kissing Ben. He thought about Ben living with their mom and grandmother, and
the judgment they might cast on him.
I shouldn’t. Alec tore his gaze away, returning to the task at hand.
Ben hurried off to the kitchen. Moments later, he and Izzy returned with various pots,
scooping the snow out of the metal tub before hurrying off again.
“The pots are warming up on the stove,” Ben said some minutes later. “I can’t turn it
on, or it’ll use up more air.”
“That’s fine,” Alec answered.
He made himself focus on the shoveling. But every inch of his body prickled at Ben’s
presence, at having him so near. Alec filled the half-empty tub. With a fireplace poker
that Ben supplied, he jabbed a hole through the snow, until blessed daylight shone
through.
Relief filled his chest. They had access to air now.
“Finally,” he muttered, breathing in the fresh, crisp oxygen that seeped in. “Hey, if you
need some air, get over here.”
Ben ushered Izzy over, holding him back so Alec could step into the living room.
“Thanks,” Ben said, his gaze skittering away. He tugged the jacket tighter around his
shoulders, nudging Izzy into the narrow tunnel. “This is what being snowed in is like,
hon. The cabin is surrounded on all sides by snow.”
“There’s so much of it.” Izzy prodded the snow in wonder.
Ben tried heaving Izzy closer to the ventilation hole, but he struggled. “Oof, you’re
heavy.”
“I’m a growing boy,” Izzy told him. “I can climb up the walls like a ninja, right?”
Ben frowned. “The snow isn’t that firm. It can’t hold your weight.”
“Here,” Alec said. “I’ll carry him.”
In the dimly-lit tunnel, Ben paled. “You⁠—You don’t have to.”
He squirmed and struggled with Izzy, and Alec couldn’t stand watching him fumble.
So he crowded into the tunnel, his heart thudding at how close he was to Ben. All he
could smell was daisy.
Ben’s eyes widened; his chest heaved. “N-no, we’re fine,” he gasped, shrinking away
from Alec.
“Ben,” Alec murmured. He wanted to say, I don’t actually hate you. But that would
require him to explain his desire.
And he couldn’t help touching Ben’s shoulder.
Ben flinched, a deep red staining his cheeks. He looked embarrassed and... so kissable.
Alec swallowed hard.
Don’t kiss him. Don’t do it. You almost fucked up last night. “It’s fine,” Alec murmured.
“C’mon.”
He slipped his hands under Izzy’s arms, right next to where Ben was holding him. This
brought their hands together, Ben’s smaller ones pressed against Alec’s own. Ben
sucked in a sharp breath, yanking his hands away. He looked... nervous. And Alec
couldn’t do this with Ben so damn scared of him.
His heart pounding, Alec released Izzy, stepping back out of the tunnel. “Step out, Ben.
I’ll do it.”
Ben looked uncertain. Izzy frowned. And Ben still didn’t move.
Alec’s heart sank. Had he... permanently ruined things between them? His stomach
twisted. Gods, I fucked up, didn’t I? “I don’t hate you.”
Ben froze, looking over his shoulder. “What?”
Despite how pissed at himself he was, Alec forced a smile. “I lik⁠—I, uh. I⁠—I’m not mad
at you. I promise.”
Gods, he’d almost let that slip.
Confusion filled Ben’s gaze. “You’re... lying, aren’t you?”
“No. Never.” The thought of Ben distrusting him... that was horrible. “Please, just⁠—
Believe me. I would never, ever, in a thousand years, ever lie to you.”
Ben glanced at the wall of snow around him, and back at Alec. He wet his lips, looking
incredulous. “So... you’re... okay with it?”
“With what?”
Ben’s face turned crimson. “You know what I mean.”
What was Alec supposed to be okay about? Alec shook his head, confused, too. “No.
What do you mean?”
Ben wrung his hands, looking aghast. “The⁠—The reason you left.”
How horny Ben made him? That was Alec’s secret. Ben didn’t know that at all... did he?
Alec frowned uneasily. “You... You know about it?”
“What?” Ben grimaced. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Gods, Ben knew about Alec jerking off to him? How could he, when Alec had taken
great pains to hide it? Had Alec slipped up somehow and not realized it?
Shame prickled his face. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, helping to carry Izzy. Alec
didn’t want Ben thinking he was some weird stalker.
His skin too tight, Alec turned away. What am I going to do? Ben knows. “I’m just gonna
make some breakfast,” he said. “Is that okay with you?”
“I guess,” Ben said.
Alec left them at the front door, retreating into the kitchen. How long had Ben known
about Alec’s jerking off? What did it feel like to stay in the same place as a stepbrother
who pictured you with no clothes on?
He shoved that thought aside, looking in the pantry. Boxes of crackers and cookies lined
the shelves, along with some bags of beef jerky. In a mini fridge, trays of steak crowded
one rack, and eggs and milk filled another. There were even some sealed bottles of milk
coffee.
The presence of the fridge meant that there was a generator on the property
somewhere. Did it have enough fuel to sustain them for... however long they’d be here?
Alec pulled out his phone, checking his messages.
Sorry, Alec. It’s a mess here, Temmie had written. The snow’s piled high in town, too. We’re
going to come get you!! We’ve filed a police report and everything. But the forecast said there’ll
be more snow today. It might take a while. I’m so glad I left food with you guys.
With the amount of snow that had surrounded the cabin, yeah, Alec was glad he’d
made it here with Ben. Were the roads into the forest also entirely blocked? How long
would they be trapped here?
We’ll manage, he texted Temmie.
Then, because he was supposed to show up to work in a couple of days, Alec texted his
team. It wasn’t because he was trying to take his mind off Ben, or anything. (It totally
was.) Guys, just a heads-up. I’m snowed in in a cabin right now, up in the San Bernardino
mountains. We aren’t sure when the roads will be cleared enough that I can leave.
Alec stared at his phone, waiting for one of his team leaders to reply. Sure enough,
Harris, head of the A team, answered, Noted, Alec. Take care. I’ll take you off the roster for
the next duty day. Update us when you can.
Because firefighters received two days off between each 24-hour shift, that gave Alec
five days to get home. He breathed a sigh of relief. Stop thinking about Ben, he told
himself. Just stop.
A moment later, his phone buzzed again. Dom, the team’s second-in-charge, had added
to the conversation. Are there many with you? How are the supplies?
Alec grinned. Dom was strict so often, but he couldn’t hide that big heart of his even if
he tried. I’m with⁠— Alec hesitated. I’m with my stepbrother. And his son is with us. We’ve
got some food and power for now.
As soon as he hit Send, the deluge of messages began. Looks like the stars have aligned,
Gareth texted. Time to do something about your blue balls, son.
Except Ben already knew about Alec’s blue balls, didn’t he? Alec’s skin felt too tight.
“You didn’t have to tell the entire team,” he muttered, flushing. For the past few
months, Alec had been subtly asking Gareth about Ben, because Gareth was a regular at
Ben’s bakery. Now that Gareth was married, of course he had to poke his nose into
Alec’s business.
No shit, York said. Time to break out the honey jar. An entire line of winks followed his
message.
Alec groaned. “Not you, too.” York was his closest friend on the team, and also a huge
proponent of honey-dipped cocks. Alec couldn’t fathom why anyone would want their
dicks covered in honey, but he wasn’t about to ask. Just to be sure, he checked the
pantry. No honey here, he typed.
Remind me to give you a jar when you get home, was York’s response. Alec snorted.
Speaking of, Gareth said. Flores and I just planted some jumbo carrots in our garden. You’re
welcome to some when they’re ready.
What would Alec even need carrots for?
Oh! You could dip THOSE in honey, York added. I’m sure Ben will be suitably impressed.
No way in hell was Alec doing that. Ben would think even worse of him. And Alec
would lose all the scraps of dignity he had left. I don’t want to know, he answered, and
shoved his phone back into his pocket.
He found some butter and bread. Then, he emptied the snow-filled pans into the sink,
turned up the heat, and set to making some French toast.
A couple minutes later, Ben stepped in. Alec remembered the carrots and honey, and
flushed. No, he wasn’t thinking about that right now. He wasn’t putting a carrot inside
Ben’s ass. Absolutely not.
“I, um. I sent Izzy to play in my room,” Ben said, squirming. Ben couldn’t meet Alec’s
eyes, but Alec couldn’t meet his, either.
“I hope he’s dealing well with being stuck here,” Alec said.
“Better than I am.” Ben’s voice wobbled.
That was because of Alec, wasn’t it? Because Alec’s jerking off now sat between them
like an elephant in the room. Alec cursed. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I swear I don’t
always... do that thing.”
Ben glanced up. “What thing?”
I thought you knew. “The...” Alec didn’t want to say it aloud. It would sound horrible. So
he held his hand in a loose fist and jerked it back and forth. “You know.”
Ben stared at Alec’s hand. Then, still confused, he curled his fingers and mimicked
Alec’s movements.
The one thing more awkward than your stepbrother knowing you jerked off, was him
trying to figure out that you were talking about yourself jerking off.
Alec knew the moment Ben realized it, because his eyes grew wide. Ben turned a rich
tomato-red. “Wh-What?” he squeaked, looking like he was about to faint. “Why are you
telling me this?”
“Because you, uh, need to know. That I honestly don’t do it so often.”
Ben looked like he wanted to cry. “I⁠—I’m not supposed to know that!”
“But you already do.” Alec frowned. “I just wanted to make sure you don’t think I do it
all the time.”
Ben’s gaze dropped to Alec’s hips, like he expected Alec to spring a hard-on right this
moment. Alec’s cock thickened under his attention; he covered his bulge with his hand,
his face heating up. Don’t look there.
Ben gave a soft whine. It went right to Alec’s cock, and despite Alec’s best intentions,
his pants grew tight.
Except Ben choked on his whimper. It sounded so much like he did in Alec’s
imagination, when he thought about Ben swallowing his cock, that he almost came
right there.
“Damn it.” Alec staggered across the kitchen, grabbing a dishcloth. He held it in front of
his hips. “I swear this doesn’t happen all the time. Just⁠—Just, like, twice a day.”
He hadn’t meant to let that slip, but it was too late.
“Tw-Twice?” Ben squeaked.
Was that too often?
By the time Alec turned back, Ben had covered his face. His ears were pink. He looked
adorable, and Alec shouldn’t touch him right now, not when his cock was so hard, it
could tear through his pants.
“I’ll reduce it to once a day,” Alec rasped, hoping it would help. “That’s⁠—Is that okay
with you?” Please don’t ask me to stop.
Ben made a soft, strangled noise. “Why are you asking me?”
They were stuck in a cabin miles away from civilization, and somehow... here they
were, discussing Alec’s masturbatory habits.
Alec’s face burned, hotter than any fire he’d helped to put out.
⁠
B EN WANTED to sink under the cabin floorboards, and never emerge again.
It was terrible enough that he was stuck here with his stepbrother. His too-hot, too-
adorable, and definitely-too-handsome stepbrother.
And now Alec wanted to know if he should be jerking off once a day. What kind of
question was that? Ben felt like he’d ended up in a strange alternate reality, where Alec
didn’t hate him anymore, and got hard for him instead.
“This is a dream,” Ben said into his hands. “I’m sleeping back home and this is all not
happening.”
Alec huffed. “Yeah, I wish.”
Ben peeked between his fingers. “If this is a dream, then I can say anything I want,
right?”
Alec hesitated. “What would you say?”
I wish you loved me. Even in a dream, that was far too private to voice. Ben bit his tongue.
“You hate me. Why are you being so nice?”
Alec’s face fell. “I told you. I don’t hate you.”
“Then prove it.”
Alec opened and closed his mouth. He glanced at the dishcloth he was still holding
against his hips.
Gods, Ben wasn’t sure he could use that towel without thinking about where it had
been. Alec’s cock was thick. Thicker than anything Ben had seen. And that was only the
outline of it. He could already imagine it bare and slippery, ready to push inside him.
His hole squeezed.
Then Alec crossed the kitchen, stopping in front of Ben. Ben’s pulse stumbled. To
suddenly have Alec right here, last night and today, so close that Ben could smell him...
Ben couldn’t breathe.
Alec looked into Ben’s eyes, slipping his fingers through Ben’s hair. The contact sent an
explosion of tingles through his scalp.
“Here,” Alec murmured, pulling Ben against his strong, solid chest. “Does this prove
it?” In Ben’s ear, he murmured, “I don’t hate you.”
Ben’s heart almost pounded through his ribs. Alec was cradling him. Ben trembled, his
throat too tight. “You... really don’t.” Even when Alec knew that Ben liked him.
“No,” Alec whispered. His mouth brushed Ben’s ear, the touch so intimate that Ben
blushed.
For years, he’d thought he’d lost Alec’s favor. He’d thought Alec had seen the worst in
him. Why did you leave, then? But Alec was stroking his scalp so lightly, and Ben didn’t
want to shatter the peace. Relief seeped into his chest, freeing the burdens weighing his
heart down.
“You⁠—You shouldn’t do that,” Ben whispered, even though every cell of his body said,
More. Ben wanted to lean in, he wanted to press every inch of himself against Alec, skin-
to-skin. Don’t tempt me with something I can’t have.
“Do what?” Alec caught the shell of Ben’s ear between his lips, his breath hot.
That was... not brotherly behavior. Ben’s stomach flipped. You know you aren’t supposed
to do this with your stepbrother.
Could Alec possibly... want him? That seemed so crazy, when William had used Ben
and left. Alec can’t possibly see anything good in me. And yet... a tiny part of Ben wanted
Alec to like him. It made his throat hurt.
He pulled away, his chest tight. “Don’t... Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” Alec said. He was wincing when Ben looked over his shoulder. “I got carried
away.”
Did he do that with all the other omegas, too? Ben squashed that thought. Alec’s not
yours. “I should just⁠—I should start on breakfast,” he said. “You might want to see to
your, um, predicament.” He waved vaguely at Alec’s hips.
Because Alec’s pants were still stretched tightly over his bulge. Twice a day, Alec had
said. Who did he think about when he jerked off? Did he take his time, or did he beat
one out quickly?
In Ben’s mind, he saw Alec unzipping his fly, his cock shoving out of his pants, big and
straining. He would lean back against a wall, grasp his cock, and stroke it languidly,
muscles flexing, precome dripping down his length.
Heat pooled between Ben’s legs. What would it feel like to have Alec press him down
against the bed, sliding his cock between Ben’s cheeks? What would it feel like to have
his stepbrother’s blunt tip nudge against his hole, sliding inside?
Alec would stretch him wide open, wouldn’t he? Alec would push every single inch of
his cock into Ben, and claim him inside. Ben’s insides grew molten, and his cock
throbbed.
What would it be like to have Alec fuck him until he came?
Ben realized suddenly that there was another reason why he’d wanted to return home
sooner than later: because his heat would be here by the end of the week.
I can’t let Alec know. That would be so awkward. Especially when Ben got so desperate
during his heat. I can’t beg him to fuck me.
Except... it would feel good, wouldn’t it? If he just threw aside his dignity and offered
himself?
“I swear it’s a carrot you’re looking at.” Alec glanced down at his hips. “‘Scuse me for a
bit.”
“A⁠—A carrot?” That bulge was bigger than most carrots Ben had seen. It made him a
lot hotter than any carrot, too. “Why would you put a carrot in your pants?”
“Because.” Alec cleared his throat, looking away. “Maybe I planted a seed there and it
started growing?” The dishcloth wrinkled in his fist.
“Maybe you should wash that dishcloth after,” Ben blurted.
Alec’s gaze darkened. “Are you suggesting that I’ll do something with it?”
Like wrap his cock in it? Or use it to wipe off his thick come? Ben gulped,
subconsciously licking his lips. “Um, I thought maybe you’d wipe down a carrot with
it.”
“Yeah?” Alec’s attention scorched Ben’s skin, and his bulge thickened.
Ben tore his gaze away. “I’m not talking about dicks,” he blurted. “Or carrots.” Except
he wanted to know what Alec’s cock would look like, spurting come. His face burned.
“Who’s talking about dicks?” Izzy bounded into the kitchen, all bright and eager.
Ben’s erection wilted. He glanced at Alec, who looked just as dismayed.
Alec... really doesn’t hate me.

“I just thought of something, Daddy. Remember how snakes have two dicks?” Izzy
asked Ben. “They go out in a V-shape, like that.” He stuck his forefingers out, away
from each other. “But if a snake eats another snake with two dicks, is he going to
choke?”
Ben froze, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Izzy had just asked this in front of Alec.
Alec was staring at them, his mouth hanging open.
“We don’t talk about penises during breakfast, hon,” Ben said, wishing Alec would go
and see to his hard-on, instead of witnessing Ben messing up again.
Except Alec tilted his head, looking intrigued. “Do they really have two dicks?” He
pulled out his phone, tapping on it. “Damn, my searches aren’t loading.”
Izzy glanced at Alec, faltering a little.
He’d grown wary of Alec, ever since Ben had panicked in the snow tunnel. Is Uncle Alec
a bad guy? Izzy had asked.
Ben hadn’t wanted to admit, I made a mistake in the past. Instead, he’d told Izzy,
Sometimes, Uncle Alec doesn’t agree with the things I do. I find him scary, but I don’t think you
should. He’s a good guy.
Izzy hadn’t looked so confident, but Ben wanted Izzy and Alec to get along. Because
Izzy needed an alpha figure in his life. Just to show him that not all alphas were bad.
“Hey, kid.” Alec nodded at Izzy. “Snakes are your thing, huh?”
Izzy frowned. “No, but Caleb really likes them. He’s my friend.”
“Caleb Davis?” Alec asked. “Kid with round glasses?”
Izzy looked surprised. “You know Caleb?”
“Yeah, I do,” Alec said. “I know his dads. He’s pretty cool.”
Izzy brightened. “I want to be cool, too.”
“You’re already cool⁠—that goes without saying.” Alec winked. “What’s your favorite
food? I’ll see if I can make some for your breakfast.”
“Pizza,” Izzy said, warming up to him. “Can I really have pizza for breakfast?”
“Sure.” Alec headed over to the fridge. “Looks like we have some cheese and tomato
sauce. I’m gonna have to improvise, because we don’t have pizza dough. What about
pizza toast?”
Izzy beamed. Alec glanced at Ben, and Ben’s pulse fluttered.
Alec knew his way around children, it seemed. And the way he’d won Izzy’s heart⁠—
Alec was such a perfect alpha. Ben’s throat tightened. Alec would be such a great dad.
Alec is your stepbrother. You’ve already gotten more than you asked for⁠—he doesn’t hate you.
He can’t be your alpha, too.
Ben bit down his disappointment, perching on a stool next to the kitchen table. Don’t be
greedy. Don’t ruin everything. Ben had rushed into a relationship with William, and he’d
ended up with beatings, he’d ended up with the ugliest scars on his arms. If Alec looks
too closely, he’ll see how much William broke you.
His heart filling with doubt, Ben twisted his fingers together, just watching Izzy interact
with Alec.
“So, tell me about the snakes,” Alec said to Izzy. “They have two dicks? Really?”
Izzy perked up. “Oh yeah! They’re all weird and spiky. You’ve never seen them
before?”
Alec glanced at Ben, his eyebrows raised. “You showed your kid snake dicks?”
Ben flushed. “Izzy came home one day talking about them. I figured it was best that we
learned about them together. Caleb can be... enthusiastic about snakes.”
That was an understatement.
Alec snorted. “Yeah, I know.”
“I didn’t know we had a mutual acquaintance,” Ben admitted.
Alec looked away, his cheeks turning pink. “I know Gareth, too. He’s on my team.”
Gareth was a regular at Ben’s bakery. But why was Alec embarrassed by the mention of
him? “Do you like Gareth?” Ben blurted.
Alec stared. “What?”
“You flushed when you talked about him.” Ben’s chest tightened. Maybe, despite that
too-intimate hug, maybe Alec already had someone else in mind. Ben tried to fight his
disappointment.
Alec blinked. “Oh. No, I don’t like him that way. ‘Sides, he’s an alpha. And he’s
married.”
Ben could breathe again. “But you blushed.”

Alec cleared his throat. “I can blush for different reasons.”
“Like what?” And then Ben wanted to smack himself⁠—even if Alec didn’t hate him,
that was still a very personal question.
But Alec only gave Ben a dark, lingering look. As though... that secret had to do with
Ben, somehow. Ben squirmed nervously. Does Gareth know something I don’t?
He sneaked a peek at Alec’s groin, wondering if Alec was blushing about that instead.
Alec caught Ben looking; his face turned pink. He covered his bulge casually,
pretending to be interested in the dish sponge. That made Ben smile, and it also made
him squirm. Alec knew that Ben was thinking about his cock.
“Caleb drew the snake dicks for me,” Izzy said, breaking the tension in the kitchen. “I
can draw it for you, too.”
Ben groaned. After this conversation was over, Alec would leave, knowing what a
terrible parent Ben was.
But Alec only said, “Yeah? Show us. Hang on, I’ll find you some paper.” He turned,
rummaging through the kitchen drawers. Ben squawked. Alec shrugged in response.
“This is science class, isn’t it?”
Izzy nodded. “You didn’t answer me, Daddy. Will a snake choke on another snake with
two dicks?”
It wasn’t like Ben knew. “Probably,” he said.
“Like if you accidentally swallow fish bones?” Izzy asked, rubbing his throat.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Ben winced.
A couple years back, when Ben had started his bakery, he’d been in massive debt. He’d
found some whole fish on sale and brought them home to cook. Somehow, William had
discovered fish bones in his fillet⁠—after he’d swallowed them.
Ben had already been contemplating divorce. William had choked on the bones and
roared at Ben, slamming him against the wall. Ben had panicked. And all he could think
was, At least he’s not doing this to Izzy.
Alec frowned. “You swallowed fish bones?”
“No.” Ben shook his head. “William⁠—that’s my ex⁠—he did.”
“He swallowed the bones and then he threw Daddy against the wall,” Izzy said.
Afraid of Alec judging him, Ben held his breath.
Alec’s entire body tensed. “What?” he growled, soft and dangerously.
Ben winced. “It’s not so bad.”
“He’s a fucking monster,” Alec muttered, stalking forward. “If anyone dares to treat
you like that, you tell me.”
Izzy had stiffened when Alec growled. When Alec turned back to the cabinets,
thumping the drawers shut, Izzy asked, “You aren’t gonna hurt Daddy, are you, Uncle
Alec?”
Alec turned, shocked and speechless. Then he stepped over to Izzy and knelt. “No,”
Alec said, looking like he was trying to swallow his anger. “To us alphas, omegas are
our greatest treasure. We protect them. Including your dad.”
Then he glanced at Ben, just for a split second, and there was something raw and
vulnerable in his eyes.
Ben’s heart stopped. What’s that supposed to mean?
Alec looked back at Izzy. “I swear that I will never, ever hurt you or your dad. Not like
that asshole your dad married.”
Izzy chewed on his lip. After thinking about it for a long moment, he nodded. “Okay.”
Alec cracked a smile. He returned to the kitchen drawers, pulling out an old notebook
and some crayons. “Here. Art supplies. Draw whatever you want.”
While Izzy drew, Ben tried to digest all of this. Alec becoming friends with Izzy. Alec
making them breakfast. Alec promising to... protect Ben?
Ben wanted to huddle against Alec’s chest, and take him up on that offer. He wasn’t
sure he should. Already, Mom had sent him a text. Will you be okay stuck in the snow?
Ben had answered, Izzy and I are fine. He didn’t know if he should mention Alec, not
when he couldn’t help glancing at Alec’s broad shoulders, his strong chest. He still
remembered Alec’s mouth on his ear, and Alec’s fingers in his hair.
If Ben showed up back home with Alec’s scent all over him... Ben couldn’t imagine
what Mom would say. Much less, Gran.
It’s not like Alec will mark you. Stop daydreaming. Ben hugged himself, pushing those
thoughts out of his mind.
Alec stepped out of the kitchen, his footsteps thumping through the apartment. Minutes
later, he returned wearing a frown.
“So Tem said we might be stuck here for three, maybe four days,” Alec said, glancing at
the wood stove. He didn’t look happy.
“And...?” Ben held his breath, dreading more bad news.
“We don’t have enough wood to warm us for that long.”
⁠
“N OT ENOUGH WOOD , PFFT .” Oh, Alec had wood, all right. It just wasn’t the sort of
wood he was supposed to warm his brother with.
He glared at the bulge in his pants, sticking his shovel into the snow. Bad enough that
he’d sprung a hard-on right in front of Ben. Bad enough that Ben had seen it.
Back in the kitchen, Alec had wanted to unzip his fly, he’d wanted to peel down his
boxers and show Ben his cock, and wrap Ben’s hand around it. He’d wanted to whisper
in Ben’s ear, Want some of this? Alec had imagined Ben moaning as he took his cock, and
that, well. That had made Alec painfully hard.
The plan right now was to dig around the cabin in search of a wood pile. Easier said
than done, when there was nowhere for all the snow to go.
They had firewood for two, maybe three days. If things got bad, Alec could burn the
furniture, too, but none of these belonged to him. Furniture-burning would be his last
resort. He dug further into the tunnel, packing the snow as much as he could. Inside the
cabin, Ben and his son hurried to melt more snow⁠—not that they could afford to use
much more heat.
Alec had dug a low, narrow tunnel along the front of the cabin. At the windows, he’d
excavated more ventilation holes upward, in case the one at the porch got covered up in
the next storm.
He was about to start digging around the corner of the cabin, when he stepped forward.
Red-hot pain stabbed through his foot.
“Ow, fuck! Fuck, fuck.” He yanked his foot up, glaring at the ground in betrayal.
There, hidden in the snow, was a rotted plank... with a long nail sticking up out of it.
He’d left the last few inches of snow-covered ground untouched, figuring he’d just
trample down the snow. The last thing he’d expected was a damn nail lying in there.
And it was rusty, too, awful splotches of reddish-brown covering it. Alec set down his
shovel, limping back to the porch. He had to check on his injury. Then he’d go back to
shoveling.
In the cabin, he sat on the nearest stool, pulling his shoe off. He should’ve worn his
work boots, but those were in his car, and that was also buried somewhere in the snow.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, hurrying over.
“Small injury,” Alec muttered, covering his blood-stained sock with his hand. “It’s
fine.”
He rolled his sock down, angling his foot away from Ben. The stab wound was shallow,
and there wasn’t much blood trickling out. He just needed to wash the wound clean,
and bandage it.
Ben crowded close, peeking over his shoulder. “Alec?” he yelped. “What happened?”
Crap, he’d seen. Alec set his foot down and stood. “Stepped on a nail.”
“A nail?” Ben paled. “It wasn’t rusty, was it?”
Alec winced. “Yeah, it was. But I’ve gotten my tetanus shot,” he said before Ben could
panic. “I’ll be fine.”
He headed for the bathroom for some water. Ben grabbed his arm. “No, sit.” Ben
frowned, pointing at the stool. “I’ll get you the first aid kit.”
“I’m fine.” Alec shook his arm lightly to try and get Ben to release him. But Ben clung
on, looking like he wanted to cry. “It’s just a small wound.”
“No, no.” Ben looked horrified. “I’ll get you everything. Just sit down, please. Stop the
bleeding.”
Because Alec hadn’t gotten enough of Ben’s attention, and because he kind of wanted
Ben’s hands on him, he obeyed.
Ben disappeared into the kitchen. Pots clattered on the stove. Then he hurried out,
disappearing into the bathroom. Moments later, Ben returned with a first aid kit. “I’m
boiling some water,” he said, kneeling at Alec’s feet. “But we need to stop the bleeding
first.”
He cradled Alec’s foot, pressing down on the wound to stop the bleeding. It hurt a little;
Alec winced.
“Sorry.” Ben looked so apologetic that Alec wanted to tackle him in a bear hug.
“I’m fine,” Alec said. “It’s not the worst I’ve seen.”
“You mean, breaking your arm was worse?” Ben blurted. Then he blushed, glancing
away.
Gods, he was adorable. “You still remember that?”

Ben nodded, keeping his gaze averted.
“I shouldn’t have stood on the swing,” Alec said dryly. “You told me not to, and I
didn’t listen.”
Ben shrugged awkwardly. “It’s your choice. You didn’t have to listen.”
“I should’ve.” Because you were looking out for me. Alec gazed at the fall of Ben’s wispy
hair across his forehead, the way Ben chewed on his lower lip. Alec swallowed the
lump in his throat, his memories unfurling. Gods, I’ve missed you so much.
He’d missed the times they huddled together on the couch, watching TV, sharing a
bowl of popcorn. He’d missed looking over Ben’s homework, helping him find his
mistakes before the teacher did. He’d missed tucking Ben into bed, dropping kisses all
over his face. He’d missed kissing Ben in the mornings, before he woke up. Ben always
stirred and leaned in for more.
“Remember the first time you tried to bake a cake for Mom’s birthday?” Alec asked.
“And the bottom burned? You saved it by slicing off the burnt bits and soaking the
whole thing in milk and sugar.”
Ben grimaced. “You still remember that?”
“Yeah. Why would I forget? You totally saved the day.”
“It was a terrible cake.” Pink tinted Ben’s cheeks. And Alec’s heart thumped.
Ben pulled the tissues off Alec’s foot, poking at the wound and peering at it. Alec
grimaced. “Ow.”
“Sorry.” Ben winced. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped. But I’ll need to clean it
now. It’ll hurt.”
“You can do whatever you want,” Alec answered, his voice dipping low. He couldn’t
help it, when Ben was touching him, when Ben was so close that all Alec could smell
was his daisy scent.
Ben flushed, setting Alec’s foot down on a clean towel. He hurried off to the kitchen and
returned with a steaming saucepan.
Alec cringed. “You are so not cooking my foot.”
A smile tugged on Ben’s lips. “I’m not! I’m going to cool the pot down first.”
Then he stepped into the snow tunnel, and Alec’s heart stopped. “The nail’s still out
there!”
Before he could stand, Ben turned, frowning. “Sit. I’m not going further than the
porch.”
He touched the side of the pot gently to the tunnel wall, so the snow melted a little.
Slowly, Ben cooled the pot, using its heat to widen the tunnel a little further. It felt as
though... that was a thing they’d both helped to do. Like teamwork.
When Ben returned, Alec resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. Ben set the pot down,
rinsing Alec’s wound. Over and over, he repeated the process with different pots of
water, until Alec wriggled his toes. “I’m sure that’s sparkling clean,” Alec said dryly.
“Doctor Ben.”
Ben frowned. He dried Alec’s foot, then dressed the wound carefully. “I just want you
to be safe.”
“I am when you’re the one taking care of me.”
Ben flushed a deep red, and Alec had to tear his gaze away. He checked the bandage,
making sure it wasn’t still bleeding. Then, he pulled his shoe back on.
“What’re you doing?” Ben asked.
Alec stepped out through the door. “I’m going to go search for more firewood. We’ve
already used enough boiling all that water.”
Ben paled. Then his entire face turned red. “No,” he snapped, jabbing his finger inside
the cabin. “You aren’t going back out there, Alec Miller. You’re injured, you’ve gone
and stepped on a nail! Get back in here, right now!”
“I’ll be fine,” Alec said. “I know to be more careful.”
“No!” Ben’s face turned redder. “What if there are more nails out here? What if you fall
and get more injured? I don’t want to⁠—to see you get more hurt!”
Ben was huffing, his chest heaving, and he looked so much like a furious mother hen,
that Alec realized with a jolt⁠—”You really care.”
But not only that. For Ben to get so angry, for him to tremble, because being angry was
easier than being scared.... Alec mattered to him. A whole damn lot. And the rumbling
in Alec’s chest grew. It was a possessive rumble, it was a rumble of delight.
“Of course I care,” Ben snapped, his fists clenched. “You said we have enough firewood
if we ration it, right? So you don’t have to go back out there, you don’t have to put
yourself in danger, you aren’t going to⁠—”
Alec closed the distance between them. He cupped Ben’s face, hauling him in.
And he almost kissed Ben. Almost.
At the last moment, he turned, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ben’s lips, then his cheek
and his nose, and his forehead. He dropped so many kisses on Ben’s face, he lost count.
Alec couldn’t stop kissing him. On his eyelids, his cheekbones, his chin. Everywhere
except his mouth.
“Gods, I⁠—” I like you so damn much “⁠—I’ve missed you,” Alec rasped, crushing Ben
against his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry I left.”
“What?” Ben gasped, all the fight rushing out of him. “What⁠—What was that...?” Alec
wrapped his arms so tightly around Ben, that Ben wheezed. “Can’t breathe. Alec!”
Alec loosened his embrace, but only long enough for Ben to catch his breath. Then he
hugged Ben close, and he wanted to press Ben against a wall, pin him, and just⁠—make
Ben his.
Mine, he almost said. He wanted to kiss down Ben’s throat, he wanted to touch the
scent gland on Ben’s neck. It had a silver bite scar that shouldn’t have been there at all.
Alec’s mark was what Ben was supposed to wear.
Ben looked up at him, all wide-eyed, his cheeks still flushed, his lips pink.
Don’t kiss him. Don’t. Alec swallowed hard, just cradling Ben’s face. “Mine,” he
whispered, tracing Ben’s jaw, then his throat. “All mine.”
Ben flushed. “What are you talking about?”
Crap. Alec brushed his fingers through Ben’s hair, just breathing him in. “You mean a
lot to me. Just in case you didn’t know.”
That felt safe to say. Brothers could mean a lot to each other.
Ben stared. Then his blush deepened, and Alec wanted to say, Stop looking like that. It
makes me want to kiss you all over.
Secretly, he dragged his wrist down Ben’s spine, leaving his scent there. Just on his
clothes, nothing more. Just so Ben felt like his.
“You... kissed me,” Ben said, still staring.
“You want more?” Alec wished he didn’t sound so eager.

Ben wet his lips, his eyes growing wide. Gods, if that wasn’t a yes... Alec cupped his
face and kissed him again⁠—just the safe spots. He wished he could kiss Ben’s mouth.
But Ben gave a wobbly smile, and he sagged against Alec, tipping his face up,
welcoming Alec’s kisses.
When Ben opened his eyes, Alec realized that Ben was crying.
His stomach dropped. “Ben? Did I hurt you? Should I not have⁠—”
“I’m happy,” Ben croaked, dashing his tears away with his hands. “I just⁠—I...”
He broke into quiet sobs. Alec held him, his stomach twisting. Ben had wanted those
kisses. He’d wanted them a lot. For years, Alec had denied him. He’d stayed away and
let that bastard bully Ben, he’d left Ben alone to raise a child.
“I’m sorry,” Alec said, his chest heavy with guilt. He brushed his fingers through Ben’s
hair, wrapping himself around his stepbrother. “I shouldn’t have left.”
Maybe he shouldn’t even be touching Ben at all, except Ben shook his head, burying his
face in Alec’s chest. “It’s fine. Just⁠—Just...”
Alec dropped kisses on the top of Ben’s head, rubbing Ben’s arms, his back. So Ben
smelled like Alec all over. He probably shouldn’t have done that, but Ben didn’t protest
at all.
When he looked up, he found Izzy hovering in the kitchen doorway, watching them.
Alec’s cheeks warmed. By kissing Ben... Did Izzy know that Alec and Ben were
stepbrothers? Was this... the wrong thing to be teaching a child?
Alec held Ben, massaging his scalp lightly. When Ben eventually sniffled and pulled
away, he was smiling. So beautiful. And Alec wanted to kiss those lips, he wanted Ben
to smile for a long, long time.
“Sorry,” Ben murmured, looking shy. “I just...”
Alec kissed him on the forehead, and Ben blushed. Alec’s heart swelled.
“Are you going to marry Uncle Alec?” Izzy asked. Alec held his breath.
Ben froze, his eyes bugging out. “Wh-What? No, I’m not!”
Yeah, that hurt just a little.
“Oh.” Izzy sagged. “But he made me pizza toast.”

“Pizza toast shouldn’t be the reason you marry someone!” Ben covered his face,
groaning.
“What about cheese sandwiches?” Izzy asked. “Or hot chocolate?”
“I can make you hot chocolate,” Alec said. “How about that, Ben? What if someone
proposed to you with hot chocolate?”
Ben looked up at him, aghast. “You can’t be serious.”
Well, maybe not the hot chocolate part. But Alec did wonder, though: What would it be
like to marry Ben? To put a ring on his finger and a mark on his neck? His heart
skipped. It was one of those fantasies that would never come true.
“If you marry Uncle Alec, he’ll make me all the pizza toast,” Izzy said. To Alec, he
asked, “Right?”
If that was the only condition to marrying Ben, hell yeah, Alec would do it in a
heartbeat. But this intimacy with Ben was still new, still tenuous. So Alec said, “I’ll
make you all the pizza toast regardless, Iz.”
Ben sighed. “Alec is my stepbrother, Izzy. We don’t... marry our siblings.”
Well, there it was. Ben wouldn’t marry him. Alec’s heart cracked. He breathed out
through the hurt in his chest, releasing Ben. He needed to stop getting used to having
Ben’s weight in his arms. He needed to stop dreaming about having Ben as his. So he
could move on, find someone else, maybe.
Who was he kidding? He’d never liked anyone else as much as he liked Ben.
“Oh,” Izzy said, looking disappointed.
Alec turned away, forcing himself to focus on the snow tunnel. “Look, if I can’t go out
to search for more wood, we’ll have to ration what we have. That means we’ll be
burning less fuel, and the cabin will be colder. Your bedroom will be chilly tonight.”
Ben frowned. “I don’t mind sleeping in the cold, but I don’t want to put Izzy through
that.”
“You could sleep in front of the stove,” Alec said. “Make that your bedroom. I’ll help
you move the mattresses out.”
Ben brightened. “I’d really appreciate it.” His face fell a moment later, though. “What
about you?”
Alec shrugged. “I’ll sleep in my room. It’s fine.”

Ben pouted. “I don’t want you to be cold.”
“We can all sleep in front of the stove,” Izzy said. “It’s like camping at school, right?”
Alec froze. Sharing a cabin with Ben was one thing. Sleeping next to him, though? That
was dangerous. Because now Alec could imagine himself shuffling up to Ben, watching
him sleep. Maybe even stealing a kiss from his lips. His heart thumped.
“I’d feel better if you were sleeping in front of the stove, too.” Ben looked shyly at Alec,
a small smile playing on his mouth.
And now Alec knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Not with Ben so close, not
when Alec wanted to kiss his lips, so badly.
“Fine,” he said anyway, hating himself for it.
Then Ben beamed, and the yearning in Alec’s heart intensified.
⁠
B EN HAD MISCALCULATED ⁠ — HIS heat was arriving sooner than he’d thought.
His bones were starting to ache, and he could smell Alec better than before⁠—all his
senses had affixed onto Alec’s teak scent, and the slight musk of his skin. Alec’s musk
shouldn’t linger, though. Not unless he’d jerked off sometime today. Had that been in
the cabin? In the next room, while Ben had been sleeping?
Ben blushed, washing the dinner dishes. I should stop thinking about him.
“What’s wrong?” Alec murmured, stepping close.
Warmth rolled off Alec’s body. He was wearing a sweater, but even then, his pecs were
deliciously defined, and Ben remembered pressing his face against them earlier. He
wanted to know what they looked like all bare, maybe glistening with wetness. His
mouth went dry.
“Um,” Ben said. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re all red.” Alec tucked Ben’s hair behind his ear, his fingertip⁠—a callused point of
warmth⁠—leaving a trail of tingles through Ben’s skin.
Ben almost dropped a plate.
“Sorry,” Alec said, grabbing both the plate and Ben’s hand. “I shouldn’t bother you
while you’re busy, right?”
“No, I just⁠—” Ben shut up. He didn’t know how to say he wanted Alec closer, without
it sounding all wrong. He’d gotten mad earlier⁠—Alec’s injured foot still bothered him⁠—
but then Alec had kissed him. Gods, those kisses. They had felt like forgiveness and
salvation, like a part of Ben’s past had been returned to him once more.
And Ben wanted Alec’s kisses on the rest of his body, too. On his neck, his chest,
between his legs. The most sinful places of all. His face grew hotter. I need to stop
thinking.
Alec frowned. “Am I making it worse? You got red here, too. And here.”
He traced his thumb along the shell of Ben’s ear, then down Ben’s jaw, to his throat. His
touch didn’t feel like a stepbrother’s should. It felt like an alpha’s touch, and Ben’s heat
thrummed in his veins.
Ben almost asked, Why are you doing this? But if he did, then Alec would think Ben
didn’t want it, and he would stop. And if Ben asked him to continue, well... That would
be incriminating.
“I’m fine,” Ben said, taking the plate back from Alec.
“It looks like you’re all red here, too.” Alec hooked his finger on the neckline of Ben’s
sweater, lifting it away from Ben’s skin. He peeked down Ben’s chest. Then he growled,
“Looks like even your nipples are blushing.”
Ben’s blood swooped between his legs; he squawked. “Alec!”
Alec released Ben’s sweater, looking away. “Sorry. I thought... maybe I was allowed to
do that. As, uh, your stepbrother. Sorry.”
Ben tingled all over. He glanced surreptitiously at Izzy, just to make sure Izzy was
drawing instead of listening in. This was... not appropriate at all. And yet... If Alec had
done this, it meant that he felt comfortable enough with Ben to joke around.
Ben gulped. “I was, uh, surprised. That’s all. You can... You can do that again, if you
want.”
Alec glanced at him, hope flickering in his eyes. “You don’t mind?”
That’s one way to describe it. “Um, I don’t.” Ben wet his lips.
Alec stepped close, until his chest brushed Ben’s shoulder blade, and Ben could almost
feel Alec’s heart thumping. Then Alec leaned in, and peeked into Ben’s sweater.
It almost felt like when they’d looked at each other’s bodies when they were younger,
except this wasn’t just curiosity. At least, to Ben, it wasn’t. Alec’s gaze raked heavily
down Ben’s chest, making his insides tingle.
“You’re breathing hard,” Alec whispered, releasing Ben’s sweater and stroking his
chest. The heat of his palm soaked through the fabric. “Are you nervous?”
“N-no.” Just hoping I don’t start smelling like musk. Because his cock was starting to get
hard, and Ben didn’t know how much more he could hide, with Alec pressed so close to
him.
Alec peeked into Ben’s sweater again.
“Is there something on my chest?” Ben squeaked.
Alec hesitated. “What if I said yes?”

That was weird. Ben looked down his sweater, trying to find what had caught Alec’s
eye. All he saw was his bare chest. “What’s there?”
“Something round,” Alec whispered, his breath hot on Ben’s ear. “It’s kind of pink.”
Then he pinched Ben’s nipple through the sweater, and a hint of pain and pleasure
twisted down Ben’s nerves. Ben gasped in surprise, arching against Alec, his ass
shoving right against Alec’s thigh. Alec touched my nipple. He would be jerking off to that
tonight.
Alec sucked in a sharp breath. “Gods, Ben.”
He released Ben, but Ben still felt the heat of Alec’s body against his own.
“Wait, does that mean I can do the same to you?” Ben asked, rounding on him. Because
it would be fair play, wouldn’t it? Looking into Alec’s clothes?
Before Alec could reply and turn him down, Ben caught the neckline of Alec’s sweater,
pulling it away from his skin. He had to tiptoe to look inside. Alec’s pecs were an
expanse of gorgeous tanned skin, his nipples round, flat disks.
Ben wasn’t sure he was supposed to stare this long, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“See something you like?” Alec growled.
A lot, yes. Ben’s face burned. He released Alec’s sweater and turned back to the sink,
shoving his hands into the soapy water. “I, uh, I found something on your chest.”
“Yeah?” Alec stepped closer, so his chest bumped against Ben’s shoulder. “What did
you find?”
“Something round,” Ben said.
“Like this?” Alec reached under Ben’s arm, and pinched his other nipple.
Blood surged into Ben’s cock; there was no more space left in his pants. “I⁠—I can smell
you,” Ben gasped, shoving his hips against the counter so Alec wouldn’t see the bulge
in his pants. “You haven’t showered today, have you?”
Alec drew back, sniffing under his arms. “Do I smell?”
All Ben could smell was his own musk, and teak. “Probably,” he said, leaning in to sniff
at Alec’s chest. Alec smelled a little like sweat, and a lot like alpha. Ben’s heat thumped
in his veins, a little more strongly. “You smell like you’ve been working a lot, or
something.”
Then, because he was curious, he pressed his nose against Alec’s underarm, and sniffed
there.
It was a strong smell, all alpha-rich, and Ben wanted more of it. He shoved his nose
deeper.
Alec winced, stepping back. “Not there. I stink.”
“Maybe you should shower,” Ben blurted, even though he didn’t want Alec to. He
wanted Alec beneath him, so he could sniff at Alec to his heart’s content. Then he
turned away, to hide his bulge.
“Fine.” Alec huffed. “I’m leaving.”
That was probably for the best. Ben’s heart twinged with disappointment.
Then, right as he left, Alec smacked Ben on the ass⁠—a light touch, not enough to hurt.
All of Ben’s nerves lit up, and his cock throbbed.
He didn’t even dare to turn around, for fear that Alec would see how much that turned
him on. Alec touched my ass.
Ben scrubbed hard at the dishes. Behind him, Izzy said, “You and Uncle Alec are like
Shane and Kerry. Are you going to kiss?”
Shane and Kerry were the romantic leads in a drama serial they’d been watching
together, one of the more popular shows airing right now. Over the past few episodes,
Shane and Kerry had been kissing nonstop.
Ben was so, so grateful that Alec had left the room. “No, hon. Uncle Alec and I are
stepbrothers. We’re not going to kiss.”
“Aww,” Izzy said, pouting.
If only it were that easy, Ben thought. “It looks like we should be watching more cartoons
and less drama serials.”
“But I like watching people kiss,” Izzy said.
Ben laughed. “You don’t find it gross?”
“It’s so exciting.” Izzy gave a dreamy sigh, cupping his chin in his hands. “And the
weddings are so pretty.”
Ben shook his head, smiling fondly. Izzy was... probably going to present as an omega
when he grew up. And Ben wanted to protect him even more. Without anyone else
looking out for him, Izzy would be vulnerable⁠—something Ben dreaded and was
already thinking up ways to circumvent.
When the dishes were done, Ben put them away, stepping into the living room. He’d
heard the faint sounds of a shower running⁠—the cabin had a wall-mounted shower
heater, a tiny unit that didn’t get the water very hot, but it was better than having
nothing at all.
He took the break to check his phone⁠—nothing like bakery reports to kill any arousal he
still had. With Ben trapped in the snow, they were shorthanded right now, and Ben
didn’t want to bring temporary help into the shop while he wasn’t there.
Except they really needed something, anything, to try and boost revenue.
Things were okay today, Vic had texted. But I’m not so sure about tomorrow. That’s when the
sidewalk construction starts.
They’d prepared large Business as usual signs, but construction would cost them foot
traffic, anyway. And the town wouldn’t compensate them for the loss.
And Ben was still twenty grand in debt. Flores⁠—Gareth’s omega, and Ben’s friend⁠—had
donated a huge sum a couple months back. Ben was infinitely grateful for the help. It
wasn’t enough to clear his debt, though. And he’d tried everything to save his failing
business. He wasn’t sure what else he could do.
There was the option of ending the bread donation that Ben did every Thursday for
children⁠—especially those from poorer families.
Ben’s employees had mentioned how they’d lost money doing that. But Ben
remembered the short period in his and Alec’s lives, when Dad had lost his job, and
they’d only had one meal a day. Sometimes, Dad had gone without eating at all.
So even though the bakery wasn’t doing so great, Ben was reluctant to stop that
program. He thought of the starving children out there, and he couldn’t.
He tucked his phone into his pocket, trying not to slip into the worry that had been
plaguing him for the past few months.
Then the bathroom door opened, and Alec stepped out.
Ben wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. But it was certainly not Alec wrapped in a
towel, and nothing else.
Water dripped from Alec’s hair. Clear rivulets trickled down his sculpted chest. A
sheen of wetness clung to his bronzed skin, and firelight danced on the contours of his
biceps, his pecs, his abs.
Then there was the V of his hips⁠—two sloping lines dipping under Alec’s towel, leading
to... Gods, Alec’s towel clung to his bulge. And that made Ben wonder about what hung
between Alec’s legs⁠—whether Alec’s cock was flushed from his hot shower, whether he
had been jerking off. His hole grew wet.
“Your mouth’s hanging open,” Alec said.
Ben snapped his mouth shut. “It’s⁠—It’s not.”
He yanked his gaze up, meeting Alec’s gaze. Alec’s eyes were dark, a confident smile
curving his lips. He saw me ogling him. Ben’s face grew hot. What do I do?
Alec stepped closer. Water dripped down his chest. His thighs were thick, and his
foot⁠—There was a plastic bag tied around his bandaged foot. “Your injury,” Ben yelped,
dropping to a crouch. “Is it okay?”
Except he wasn’t sure he should’ve knelt at Alec’s feet. From here, he saw every droplet
of water on Alec’s skin. Alec’s towel just about brushed his nose, his bulge inches from
Ben’s face. If I accidentally touch him there... Ben’s blood thumped in his veins. What
would Alec’s cock feel like? What if Ben kissed him there?
There was only one towel separating Ben from Alec’s naked body.
Awkwardly, Ben glanced up. Alec licked his lips. “Keep doing what you’re doing,”
Alec growled.
And now Alec looked like some deity, all strong and powerful, with Ben at his mercy.
Ben made himself tug open the plastic around Alec’s foot. It was a good thing he’d
crouched⁠—the position hid his erection.
“It feels dry,” Ben said, carefully touching Alec’s bandages. He freed Alec’s foot of its
protective covering, gingerly probing at the wound.
Alec pulled his foot away. “It stings when you do that.”
“Sorry.” Ben bit his lip. “Do you need anything else for it? I should get you a fresh
dressing⁠—”
He turned and made to stand, except the sudden movement made him see stars. Ben
wobbled and lost his balance, turning to grab Alec before he face-planted on the floor.
He didn’t catch Alec. What he grabbed was Alec’s towel, shoving down on it as he tried
to hold himself up.
The towel unraveled. Ben’s face smashed into Alec’s chest, and as he continued to fall,
his face dragged down Alec’s pecs, down his abs, and through the thatch of hair
between his legs.
Ben’s knees hit the floorboards, sending a jolt of pain through his bones. Something
thick and heavy pressed against one side of his face. It was firm and damp, and there
was a very distinct line nudging against Ben’s cheek. It can’t be his cock. Please don’t tell
me it’s his cock.
“Ben,” Alec said, his voice strangled.
The thing against Ben’s face grew bigger.
⁠
B EN CRACKED HIS EYES OPEN . Because he had to. What he saw was a mess of dark, wiry
hair, and something skin-colored. It smelled like soap. There were fine veins criss-
crossing it. It was still growing bigger, thicker, and it was starting to nudge pointedly
against his face.
“Fuck,” Alec said, shoving his hand down between Ben’s face, and that snake-like
object. “Sorry. That⁠—That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Then Alec grasped Ben’s shoulder, and gently pushed him back.
Dazedly, Ben stared at Alec’s hand, and the growing length behind it. That was most
definitely an alpha cock. And Ben’s face had been plastered against it. Alec’s cock was on
my face.
Ben whimpered, his cheeks growing hot. “I didn’t mean to do that!” he gasped,
scrambling back. Alec’s cock had smelled clean, and it had been so warm. Alec’s hand
wasn’t big enough to cover it entirely; it was still growing thicker, nudging up against
Alec’s fingers as though it was searching for something. Like Ben.
Ben gulped, his hole squeezing. Alec’s cock would stretch him deliciously wide,
wouldn’t it? It would push inside, and mark him with Alec’s come. His body grew hot
all over.
“I’m gonna get dressed,” Alec rasped, snatching the abandoned towel off the floor. He
covered his cock with it, completely shielding it from view. Ben bit down his
disappointment.
Then Alec turned and headed for his bedroom, and his ass⁠—gods, that was glorious,
too.
Ben must’ve made a sound, because Alec looked over his shoulder. “You said
something?” Alec asked.
Ben snapped his gaze upward, his face so hot, it felt like his skin would peel right off.
But it was too late⁠—Alec had caught him staring. Alec’s gaze darkened.
“N-Nothing,” Ben squeaked. “I just⁠—I, um, I said you might want to cover up. There’s
a child in the kitchen.”
“Yeah?” Alec rumbled. Then he shook the towel out and pulled it around his hips,
cinching it tight.
But instead of heading into his bedroom, he turned, giving Ben a view of his bare chest.
There was definitely a bulge between his legs. Ben leaked.
“Does this pass your muster?” Alec asked, his gaze scorching Ben’s skin.
Alec knew Ben liked him. So why was he showing Ben all the things Ben couldn’t have?
“Yes,” Ben croaked, his pants so tight, Alec must’ve seen. But Alec only turned, slipping
into his bedroom.
Ben swallowed hard. This insanity was all because of his oncoming heat. If he could jerk
off, it would help calm him down, right?
L ATER THAT NIGHT , Alec guarded the living room windows. There was a snowstorm
on the forecast, Temmie had said. Alec had told Ben not to worry, that he’d stay awake
to make sure the snow wouldn’t plug up the ventilation holes.
Feeling guilty about not helping, Ben padded out of the kitchen when Izzy had fallen
asleep. Alec looked up from his perch.
Ben blushed self-consciously. “Hey.” He rubbed his forearms. “I’m, um, sorry about
earlier.”
Alec’s gaze coasted down his body, a heavy, intimate weight. “It’s fine. It was an
accident.”
“It⁠—It didn’t mean anything.” The lie burned all the way down Ben’s throat. “We’re
brothers. It’s... It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
“Uh huh.” Alec patted the top of the couch, next to where he was sitting. An invitation
for Ben to join him there.
Ben’s heart skipped. He stepped over to Alec, carefully resting his butt against the top
of the couch. Alec’s warmth radiated into his arm⁠—he was hot, even through the layers
of Ben’s sweater.
“No hard feelings, right?” Alec murmured.

The only thing hard had been their cocks, but Ben wasn’t about to mention that.
“Nope,” he said.
“Good.”
They sat together, listening to the wind howling through the gaps in the windows. Ben
sneaked a peek at Alec’s thighs⁠—Alec had put on some pants, another sweater, and Ben
wished... that he could’ve felt Alec’s skin on his own again.
Stop thinking about him. Think about the bakery instead. There were loan deadlines coming
up, and Ben didn’t have enough revenue coming in. For the past few days, he’d been
trying not to think about how he was going to pay off his employees’ wages, the store’s
rent, and the bank loan, all at the same time.
Just the thought of that⁠—it was enough to make his breath hitch.
“Something wrong?” Alec asked, watching him sidelong.
Ben jerked his shoulders. I don’t want you to think I’m a failure, too. “Not really.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you?” Alec murmured, reaching up to touch Ben’s chin. “You
never used to lie to me, Ben.”
Ben’s heart squeezed. Alec stroked his thumb against Ben’s lower lip, and the contact
sent tingles down his nerves.
“Tell me,” Alec murmured.
Ben wet his lips, nervous. “I⁠—I don’t want you to judge me.”
“I’ve never judged you.” Alec rubbed his fingertips along Ben’s jaw, and down his
throat. “Remember?”
“But... But you left.” Ben squirmed. “You were judging me then, weren’t you?”
Surprise flickered through Alec’s gaze. “No. You knew that I was⁠—You knew what I
was doing. I wasn’t in any position to judge you.”
“What do you mean?” Ben frowned, confused. “Didn’t you leave because... because you
knew how I felt?”
Alec stared. “What?”
This didn’t make sense. “You said you knew,” Ben said. “That I, um. That I had
feelings.” For you.
“What feelings?” Alec looked perplexed.

Wasn’t that why you left? And now Ben had the growing suspicion that... maybe they’d
gotten things mixed up somehow. “Wait, why... why did you leave?”
“You already know,” Alec mumbled, his ears turning red.
“No, tell me again.”
Alec grew redder. “I’m not saying it another time.”
What could be so bad, that Alec didn’t want to say it? Just to ensure that there wasn’t
one hell of a misunderstanding between them, Ben said, “I thought you left because you
knew how I felt.”
And then his heart thumped. Alec could still judge him for it now.
But Alec only frowned. “No. That’s not why I left. You mean... you don’t actually
know?” And he looked hopeful and relieved.
Ben narrowed his eyes. “Why did you leave?”
Alec blew out a breath, looking away. “It’s nothing.”
“Alec!”
“What do you feel?” Alec asked instead, his attention zeroing in on Ben. “You said you
had feelings.”
Then his gaze sharpened, like he could see all of Ben’s secrets. Ben felt too bare,
suddenly. “Nothing,” he mumbled, his face turning hot. Why did his body keep
betraying him?
“Tell me.” Alec shuffled along the top of the couch, wrapping his arm around Ben’s
waist. Their thighs bumped. Alec’s side pressed against Ben, solid and inviting. He gave
a hopeful smile. “You’re all pink, Ben. Do I make you pink?”
Ben gulped. He didn’t want to leave. But if he stayed, Alec would discover Ben’s secret
for real.
“Ben,” Alec whispered. Then he kissed Ben on the ear, and bit lightly on his earlobe.
Ben squawked, his heart thumping. “We shouldn’t be doing that.”
“But you aren’t shoving me off.” Alec kissed his cheek. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Ben couldn’t.
“Tell me your secrets,” Alec murmured. “Please?”

Then he pinched Ben’s sweater collar, and looked inside again. Ben’s entire body
flushed with warmth. “You sure like doing that.”
Alec blew lightly down Ben’s neckline, his breath caressing Ben’s skin. When their eyes
met again, Alec’s gaze was knowing. “That’s what brothers do, right?”
Probably not. Ben’s nipples grew hard under Alec’s scrutiny. He hoped the shadows in
the sweater hid their reaction. “I-I guess.”
Satisfied with Ben’s answer, Alec leaned back, pulling open the back of Ben’s flannel
pants. Ben froze, his blood swooping between his legs. “Alec?” he croaked.
“Should I stop?” Alec slipped his finger into the waistband of Ben’s briefs. Then he
pulled it open, too, and looked at Ben’s bare ass.
Ben’s throat went dry. Do you like what you see?
“You have a pretty bottom,” Alec whispered.
“Oh.” Ben flushed hot all over. Do you want to see more of it?
“We should play Doctor sometime,” Alec growled, sliding a callused finger down along
Ben’s asscheeks, lingering on the outside of his crack. “I should... make sure that every
part of you is fine.”
His finger slipped further down Ben’s ass, closer to his hole.
Ben’s heat flared to life. Alec, examining his entire body? Between his legs? Alec,
looking right at his hole? His entire body ached. “That’s⁠—That’s for kids,” he gasped.
“We aren’t children anymore.”
“No, we’re not.” Alec touched Ben’s chest through his sweater, his fingers slipping
down Ben’s belly, nudging beneath the sweater hem. He found Ben’s waistband,
hooking a finger into it.
Ben stopped breathing. Alec would pull open the front of his pants, and he would see
Ben’s cock straining behind his briefs.
“You smell like musk,” Alec whispered, his finger sliding further down Ben’s belly,
dipping past the waistband of his underwear.
Ben grew so hard, he hurt. “No,” he yelped, shoving at Alec’s hand.
Except that mashed Alec’s palm against the front of his pants, where Ben’s cock was a
telling line.
They both froze. Ben could only hear his heart pounding. Alec lifted his hand slightly,
and they both saw the traitorous contours of Ben’s bulge in his pants. Alec’s looking at
my cock. He knows I’m hard.
Alec sucked in a sharp breath. He pulled his finger out of Ben’s pants. Then, ever so
lightly, he brushed his knuckles along Ben’s cock.
It was a light touch, muffled by fabric, but Ben felt it in the very core of his body. His
heat surged through his veins.
“Ben,” Alec growled.
“No,” he gasped, shoving Alec off. His ears burned so hot, it was a wonder they didn’t
fall off. “I⁠—I need to sleep.”
Alec’s hands fell to his sides, but his gaze scorched. “Ben⁠—”
Ben left him, scrambling into the kitchen. Then he pressed himself flat against the wall,
his chest heaving, his cock so hard, it could split his pants. Alec touched my cock.
It was silent in the living room. Ben stared unseeingly at the mattresses lined around
the wood stove. Alec had brought out a separate mattress for Izzy, and Izzy was asleep
right in front of the stove. To one side was Ben’s unoccupied mattress, and to the other,
Alec’s.
Awkwardly, Ben crawled under the covers of his makeshift bed, pulling the blankets
tightly around himself. He didn’t want to look at the kitchen doorway. Alec now knew
that Ben had feelings for him. Hard feelings.
Ben flushed all over, embarrassed.
He made sure that the covers hid all of his body. Then, with his back to the kitchen
doorway, Ben reached into his pants, grasping his cock. It strained eagerly against his
hand, wet at the tip. Ben bit his lip, squirming.
Alec was in the next room. If Ben made a sound, Alec would hear⁠—there was no door
to muffle any noise. Ben huddled deeper under the covers, his thoughts dipping into
Alec’s clothes. He imagined Alec’s strong chest, his muscular thighs, his cock stroking
down Ben’s body.
That only made him painfully hard.
He was doing this just so he wouldn’t toss restlessly in bed for the rest of the night. It
really was. I’m so glad he can’t see my face right now.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut, pumping himself. Bliss thrummed through his veins. He
gasped and pressed his face against the pillow, his hips jerking of their own accord. He
needed to get this over with. Not play with himself and drag this out, imagining Alec
taking his time with Ben, kissing down his chest.
Ben bit down his groan, writhing. He was hot all over, and the covers were too warm.
But he couldn’t pull them off. What if Alec stepped into the kitchen?
He thought about Alec pressed up against him, all naked, his chest flush against Ben’s
back. He thought about Alec tweaking his nipples, maybe licking them. Then he
thought about Alec grasping his ass, spreading his cheeks apart, examining his hole.
Maybe even touching him there.
What would it feel like to have Alec’s cock pressing between his cheeks? Nudging his
entrance? It would be thick, wouldn’t it? Ben had seen it. It had looked delicious. How
would it feel when Alec pushed inside, his cock stretching Ben open?
Ben gasped, trying to breathe. He was close. He just needed a little more, and then he’d
go to sleep and pretend none of this had happened.
The floorboards creaked behind him.
Ben froze, his fist clenching around his cock. If he stopped moving, if he pretended that
he was asleep... Alec would go back into the living room, right?
He kept as still as he could, breathing through his mouth so he wouldn’t make any
sound. He waited for what seemed like forever. The fire crackled in the stove. The
storm howled outside.
When no other sound came, Ben exhaled. Maybe Alec had found nothing of note, and
left.
He dragged his fist down his cock, then back up, shivering at the friction. Then, he did
it again. The quiet kitchen comforted him. He huddled into himself, giving his cock
slow, long strokes, working his way back from where his arousal had receded.
Ben imagined Alec sucking on his neck, he imagined Alec crowding close, his cock
nudging between Ben’s cheeks, slippery with precome. He imagined Alec desperate for
him, Alec grinding against his hole, pushing inside.
A spasm rocked through his body; Ben jerked and gasped, his cock throbbing anew.
“Ben?” Alec rasped.

Ben startled, his body flushing hot and cold. Alec’s voice was a lot closer than he’d
expected. Alec’s still here? Did he... see?
He kept his eyes scrunched shut, sweat prickling his skin. His cock leaked onto his
fingers, and he tried to imagine how much of his jerking off had been visible through
the covers. His cock nudged incriminatingly against his palm.
The floorboards creaked again, and then the mattress dipped behind Ben.
Alec was sitting on his makeshift bed. He was close enough to touch, and he had most
certainly smelled Ben’s musk. Alec had to know that Ben had been jerking off. That he
was still touching his cock right now.
Ben’s ears burned, and he couldn’t move at all.
⁠
L ARGE FINGERS BRUSHED through Ben’s hair.
“You’re sweating,” Alec murmured, his short nails raking lightly down Ben’s scalp.
“You shouldn’t be under the covers if you’re so warm.”
Before Ben could think of an answer, Alec grasped the edge of the covers, peeling them
back.
“No.” Ben yanked his hand out of his pants. He pulled his legs up to hide his straining
cock, tugging the covers back around himself. “I⁠—I’m sleeping.”
Alec leaned in and kissed his temple. “No, you’re not.”
As though that wasn’t intimate enough, Alec pressed his chest against Ben’s back,
sniffing at Ben’s hair. Ben squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his cock throbbing harder than
it had before. Alec was right here, behind him, and Ben could only think about his
stepbrother reaching under the covers, touching him between his legs.
“Alec,” he pleaded.
“Are you okay?” Alec whispered, stroking Ben’s throat with his fingertips.
Ben nodded jerkily, half-wishing Alec would leave, half-wishing Alec would touch him
more.
And Alec caressed Ben’s shoulder, following Ben’s arm under the covers, his touch
heavy and warm, sending tingles down to Ben’s toes. Ben trembled, forgetting to
breathe.
Alec found Ben’s hand. Then, his wet fingers. Ben’s face burned; he snatched his hand
away. “No, don’t.”
“Why?” Alec growled, his breath puffing hot on Ben’s cheek. “Why is your hand
sticky?”
You already know.
Alec nudged the covers back down, enough to expose Ben’s hand. Then he leaned in,
sniffing at Ben’s skin. Before Ben could comprehend what he was doing, Alec licked the
precome off Ben’s fingers, his tongue a soft, damp touch. Then he did it again.
Ben squeaked, tugging his hand away. That came from my cock.
“Salty,” Alec whispered. He was looking at Ben; Ben could feel it even though his eyes
were still scrunched shut. Alec took his hand again. This time, his tongue slid up and
down Ben’s fingers, seeking every last smeared droplet.
“Alec,” Ben groaned, his cock jerking, desperate for touch.
“Say that again,” Alec growled. “Say my name.”
He was so close, warmth radiating off his skin, and Ben couldn’t think. “Alec,” he
gasped.
“Fuck,” Alec whispered, kissing Ben’s knuckles. “You’re so fucking hot.”
What?
Alec crowded closer, kissing Ben’s jaw. His teeth raked against Ben’s skin, and he
pressed the length of his body against Ben, slipping the covers further down Ben’s
body. The too-hot covers left Ben’s chest, then his belly. Then Alec pushed them past
Ben’s hips, and Ben whimpered, turning his body toward the mattress so Alec wouldn’t
see the hard line in his pants.
“So gorgeous,” Alec whispered, sliding his hot palm down Ben’s side.
Why wasn’t he judging Ben? Ben cracked his eyes open, disbelieving. “Why are you
doing this?”
Alec met his gaze. “You like me.”
Ben’s entire body burned; he couldn’t answer. But all Alec did was kiss Ben’s cheek,
then his ear, and his temple. He wasn’t judging Ben for it at all.
“Why⁠—Why are you...?”
Alec cradled Ben’s face, turning Ben to face him. And all Ben could see was the sheer
desire in Alec’s gaze. His stomach flipped.
“You asked me why I left,” Alec whispered, kissing the corner of Ben’s lips. “Do you⁠—
really want to know?”
Ben couldn’t move. Alec’s mouth was just a hairsbreadth away from his own. “Yes,”
Ben croaked.
Alec groaned, bracing his weight on either side of Ben’s shoulders. Then he brought his
hips closer, grinding against Ben’s ass. The bulge in his pants pushed an indent into
Ben’s asscheek, right through his clothes. Alec’s rubbing his cock on me. Ben whimpered,
growing wet.
“That... That’s the reason?” he gasped, trying to understand.
“This is why,” Alec growled, grasping Ben’s hip. He pulled Ben’s ass flush against his
cock. “I can’t help it. You make me so damn hard, Ben. Every single time. I want you in
my bed, I want to rub my cock all over you. I want to see your face when you take it
inside. Every single inch.”
Alec’s words slid down Ben’s spine. They sounded even better than Ben had imagined,
and Ben had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.
When Ben didn’t answer, Alec hesitated, uncertainty flickering through his eyes. “You
don’t want it?” He pulled away, so his cock wasn’t pressing against Ben anymore.
“Sorry.”
“No,” Ben yelped, shoving his hips backward to seek out Alec’s body. “Please, please⁠—
”
Alec sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze searching. “You want...?”
Ben nodded frantically, hardly able to believe it. Alec wants me. After years of thinking
Alec hated him⁠—To feel Alec’s cock nudging against him, barely restrained in his
pants... Ben whimpered, slick trickling out of his hole. “Alec, please⁠—”
Alec leaned in close, his pupils blown in the lamplight. He cradled Ben’s face, his breath
puffing on Ben’s mouth. “Can I...?”
Ben tipped his face up, his lips tingling. “I’ve been waiting,” he admitted, warmth
sweeping through his cheeks. “Please.”
Alec groaned and kissed him.
It started out clumsy, their noses bumping, their limbs tangling as Alec sealed their
mouths together. But Alec’s lips were soft, sliding sweet and blissful against Ben,
sending sparks all the way through his body. Ben forgot to breathe. He grew dizzy, all
thought fleeing his mind as Alec’s teeth dragged across his lip, sharp points on his skin,
sending sparks down his veins.
Alec’s kissing me.
Alec growled, sucking on Ben’s lower lip, his tongue flicking against the seam of Ben’s
mouth. As though... he wanted more.
His heart skipping, Ben parted his lips. Alec swept his tongue inside like he was tasting
Ben, deep and hungry. The moment their tongues touched, electricity shot down Ben’s
spine. He gasped and arched. Alec groaned, winding his fingers into Ben’s hair. No one
else’s kisses had made Ben feel like this before.
“Been wanting this so much,” Alec whispered. Then he dipped his tongue in, pulling
out, thrusting it back inside, like how he’d plunge his cock into Ben’s body.
Ben writhed, his entire body burning with his heat. “Alec,” he gasped.
Alec pinned him down and kissed him deeply, his tongue a soft, intimate touch, until
Ben grew dizzy and they were both panting. Ben was so hard, he could come if Alec so
much as looked at his cock.
Then Alec broke the kiss and pulled back by a couple of inches, just gazing down at
Ben. His lips glistened with wetness. Ben squirmed, self-conscious. I just kissed Alec. He
kissed me back. Alec had tasted like stir fried chicken and the faint sweetness of soda, and
Ben wanted more.
He touched his tingling lips, disbelieving. This could be a dream. But Alec was still
here, and all Ben could smell was that teak scent, and their combined musk thick in the
air.
“So beautiful,” Alec whispered, his pupils blown. He leaned in, kissing down Ben’s jaw.
Then he dropped little sucking kisses down Ben’s throat, his teeth scraping against
Ben’s skin. Ben arched, writhing, desperate for more. Alec groaned, pressing his face
against Ben’s neck, his breath hot. “I should⁠—I should stop.”
But he kissed Ben’s collarbone, again and again. Ben whimpered, his nipples growing
hard. He wanted to feel Alec on him, he wanted to feel Alec’s touch further down his
body. Where he ached.
Alec curled his fingers into the hem of Ben’s sweater. He glanced up; their eyes met.
And, ever so slowly, Alec pulled Ben’s sweater up his chest. The cool air of the kitchen
brushed his skin. Ben stopped breathing.
“You can say no,” Alec rasped.
Ben couldn’t say it. He didn’t want to.
His chest heaving, Alec leaned in, pressing a kiss to Ben’s navel. Then he kissed further
up to Ben’s chest, and kissed both his nipples. Ben writhed, his nipples tingling. “Alec,”
he croaked.
“More?” Alec whispered.

Even though he shouldn’t, Ben nodded. Alec took Ben’s nipple into his mouth, flicking
his tongue across it. Then he grazed it with his teeth, and sucked. Jolts of pleasure
seared down Ben’s nerves; he grew so wet, his slick smeared between his asscheeks.
“You smell like heaven,” Alec growled. He kissed over to Ben’s other nipple, and did
the same. Then he sucked on it, harder and harder, until Ben thrashed, his hands fisting
in Alec’s hair, his balls pulling tight, heavy with come.
“Alec.” Ben’s voice broke.
“Fuck,” Alec rasped, releasing his nipple. He kissed back down to Ben’s belly, and
hooked his fingers into Ben’s waistband. “Okay if I look?”
Ben flushed all over. He pulled his legs up, half-afraid. He was so shamefully hard. And
Alec was his stepbrother.
At his hesitation, Alec released his clothes.
“No,” Ben said, disappointment clogging his throat. “I⁠—I want...”
Alec growled, yanking Ben’s pants halfway down his thighs. And now there was only
Ben’s underwear clinging to his hips, his cock tenting it, a dark, wet patch where his tip
was. Ben yelped.
“Gods, fuck,” Alec breathed, his attention locking onto Ben’s arousal.
Ben shoved his cock down, covering it with his hands. He shouldn’t feel this way about
Alec. And yet the thought of Alec’s mouth on him made him drip.
“Ben,” Alec whispered, grasping Ben’s wrists. Carefully, he tugged Ben’s hands away
from his cock, leaving his bulge exposed. Then he leaned in, pressed his nose to Ben’s
cock, and breathed in deep.
Warmth flooded Ben’s cheeks. He cried out, embarrassed. Alec was filling his lungs
with... the smell of Ben’s cock. And Ben didn’t know what to think, except it also made
his insides hot. “Alec,” he gasped, his cock jerking.
Alec cracked a smile, meeting Ben’s gaze. “I think it likes me,” he murmured. Then he
pressed a kiss to Ben’s cock through the thin cotton. It jerked at his touch, more
precome leaking from its tip.
Ben groaned, covering his face. He felt the light brush of Alec’s lips through his briefs,
soft kisses starting from his base, trailing all the way to his tip. Ben flushed. Alec paused
at his tip, flicking his tongue against the damp spot.
“Alec,” Ben gasped, his balls pulling tighter. He keeps tasting me.
“You taste delicious,” Alec growled. “I can’t get enough.”
He grasped the elastic of Ben’s underwear and eased it down. Ben’s cock slipped out,
flushed and ravenous, his tip shoving out past his foreskin. It glistened shamelessly
with precome, and Ben shoved it back down, hiding it from Alec’s eyes.
“You’re so shy, it’s adorable,” Alec whispered.
Lightly, he grasped Ben’s wrists. Then he eased them away so Ben’s cock jutted back
up, begging for touch. Alec dragged his nose along its length, sniffing at it. Ben
squirmed. I can’t believe Alec’s looking at my cock.
“Gorgeous,” Alec whispered. He leaned in, just breathing onto Ben’s cock, his lips close,
but not touching it. Then he dropped a trail of light kisses onto it, like it was the most
precious thing. Ben’s entire face burned. His cock throbbed, and Alec had to know how
close he was.
At his tip, a clear droplet of fluid trickled down his head. Alec caught it with his tongue,
a light stroke that circled Ben’s tip. Then Alec rolled Ben’s precome through his mouth,
swallowing his taste. He groaned. Ben flushed all over. It’s like he ate something delicious.
“You like it when I taste you,” Alec whispered, glancing up. Ben couldn’t meet his eyes,
but Alec had probably seen how much it turned him on.
Alec reached back into Ben’s underwear, scooping out his sac. And now Ben was almost
entirely exposed, save for his drenched hole. He panted, his cock far too sensitive.
“I love how this feels,” Alec murmured, rubbing Ben’s balls, rolling them delicately
between his fingers. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
He knows. Ben flushed, biting his lip hard.
“It’s okay,” Alec whispered. He kissed Ben’s tip. Then he wrapped his callused fist
around Ben’s cock, pulling his foreskin down in a slow stroke. This exposed Ben’s
sensitive head. Ben’s entire body grew hot. And Alec rubbed the pad of his thumb just
beneath it, where a bundle of nerves was.
Electricity shot down Ben’s spine, all the way into his balls. He came hard, his toes
curling, come shooting out his tip, spurting all over Alec’s hand, his face, his mouth.
Ben couldn’t think past the pleasure. He’d hunched over, gasping for breath, his cock
still pulsing as Alec stroked him through his climax, squeezing out every last drop. He’s
touching me there. I came all over him.
When Ben could think again, he realized that Alec was still with him. That Alec had
held his cock, that Alec had made him come. And he’d watched Ben through that whole
incriminating scene.
Alec groaned, licking up the droplets of come on his lips. He swallowed them all,
leaning in to close his mouth around Ben’s tip.
Ben arched, gasping, yanking on Alec’s hair. He’s tasting me. “Alec,” he squawked.
Alec’s hot, wet mouth moved around him. And Ben realized that Alec was sucking on
him for the rest of his come. He couldn’t tell if there was more coming out, but Alec’s
eyelids had fluttered shut, an expression of bliss on his face.
Ben’s ears burned.
“I’d suck you off any day,” Alec rasped around Ben’s cock, his voice vibrating down
Ben’s nerves. Ben squirmed, embarrassed, his hole squeezing. “You have such a pretty
cock.”
“You⁠—You did that,” he panted, wanting to cover his face. Except Alec pulled away,
licking off the come on his hand. He swallowed all of it, and his gaze scorched down
Ben’s body.
Even though he’d just come, Ben’s nerves flared to life, his hole squeezing tight.
“Ben,” Alec rumbled, dropping kisses up Ben’s belly, to his chest, his neck. Then, just
before he could kiss Ben on the lips, Alec tensed and wheezed, his eyes flying open, his
chest heaving as he gasped for breath. His musk crashed into Ben like a sledgehammer.
“Alec?” Ben yelped.
Still gasping, Alec looked up. His pupils had dilated so wide, there was only a thin ring
of gray left. And he stared at Ben, his gaze raking down Ben’s face, anchoring onto his
lips. Alec looked like a parched man, he looked like he’d thirsted for years, and he’d
only just set his eyes on a glass of water. Which was Ben. Ben couldn’t breathe.
“Think⁠—Think I’m in a rut,” Alec panted, reaching down to shove at his cock. “Fuck.
I⁠—I need to go. Hurts.”
“What hurts?” Ben caught Alec’s arm, stopping him. “Let me look.”
Alec grimaced. “My cock. So hard it fucking hurts, Ben. I can’t⁠—You don’t have to.”
Ben’s heat flooded between his legs. Alec’s pants had stretched tight, his cock a thick,
hard line, straining against the fabric. And Ben wanted to know what that would feel
like inside him. His ass grew so wet, it ached. And his cock grew hard again.
He shouldn’t, and yet he whispered, “I want to see it.”
Before Alec could turn away, Ben reached out, pressing his hand against Alec’s bulge. It
was hot. Alec swore, shoving Ben’s hand down against his cock, grinding into Ben’s
palm in a slow, toe-curling slide. Ben moaned. Alec swore.
“I don’t⁠—don’t want to pressure you,” Alec wheezed. There was now a dark, wet spot
at his tip. “Fuck.”
“Let me see,” Ben whimpered, shuffling to face Alec. Then, because Alec had touched
his cock, he reached for Alec’s belt, tugging on it.
Alec nudged his hands away, pulling his belt open with quick, jerky movements. His
zipper rasped. When he shoved down his boxers, his cock jutted out, bigger than Ben
had envisioned. It was thick, fine veins criss-crossing it, and it smelled like musk.
Ben’s throat went dry. He whined, leaning in to kiss Alec’s cock like Alec had done for
him. Then he licked its tip, taking it into his mouth. It was heavy and velvety. Alec
swore, snapping his hips so his cock pushed into Ben’s mouth. Just like how it would
push into his hole. Ben moaned, trying to take more of it into his mouth.
“Stop,” Alec hissed, pushing Ben lightly away. His chest heaved, and his cock jerked,
hungry and demanding. “If you do that any more, I’m gonna blow.”
He reached between Ben’s legs, past his balls, and pressed his fingers between Ben’s
drenched cheeks. Ben whimpered and spread his legs, relaxing for Alec. He’s going to
touch me there.
“Fuck,” Alec rasped. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“Please,” Ben begged, shoving his hips at his brother. “Alec, please.”
Alec groaned, dipping his fingers between Ben’s cheeks. He found Ben’s hole and
stroked it with his fingertips. Sparks shot up Ben’s spine; he shuddered. Alec bit his lip
so hard, it turned white. “You don’t know what you’re tempting me with, Ben.”
“Fuck me,” Ben whispered.
Alec swore, his eyes darkening, his fingers a solid pressure against Ben’s entrance. “You
know we shouldn’t.”
But he pushed one finger into Ben’s hole, and Ben clenched around him, his spine
arching. Alec is inside.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Alec sank his finger deeper. He pulled it out and pushed both his
fingers in, swirling them around, as though he was searching.
Then he found Ben’s prostate, and pushed down on it. Sparks exploded through Ben’s
vision; Ben gasped and arched, his cock jerking. “Alec!”
“You like it when I touch you,” Alec panted. He continued to massage Ben’s prostate,
circling it, pressing down on it, until Ben leaked onto his thighs, his cock thick and
needy.
“Alec, please,” Ben begged, squeezing around his fingers. “More.” He reached for
Alec’s cock, stroking it base to tip. Alec snarled.
In the next breath, Ben found himself flipped onto his front, his ass yanked up into the
air.
Alec tore down Ben’s underwear, exposing his ass. “Such a damn fine ass.”
Then he kissed it, and bit lightly on Ben’s cheek. Ben shuddered, reaching back to
present himself. Because it felt right.
And now Alec could see Ben’s hole, all wet and ready for him. Alec swore. He pressed
his face between Ben’s cheeks, blowing lightly on his entrance.
Ben writhed. “I need,” he gasped, relaxing for his alpha.
“Fuck, Ben.” Alec groaned. Something damp and soft flicked between Ben’s cheeks.
Alec’s tongue. Alec licked up Ben’s crack, pausing at Ben’s hole. He pushed lightly on
it; Ben jerked away.
“What are you⁠—”
“Gonna prepare you,” Alec growled, pulling him back. And he continued to lick Ben’s
hole.
Ben shuddered, the need in his body spiking. Alec was preparing Ben for... for his cock.
Ben whimpered, his body growing tight, his balls pulling up, filling with more come.
Alec pushed his tongue into Ben’s hole, in and out, like how his cock would caress Ben
there.
“Alec,” Ben gasped. He wanted Alec’s cock, he’d been wanting it for years. And now
Alec was going to give it to him.
“Shh. You need to stay quiet,” Alec growled.
He pushed two fingers back inside Ben, and Ben’s spine arched.
Alec reached around, pressing his palm over Ben’s lips. “Shh.”
Except he pushed his fingers deeper, thrusting in and out. Ben thrashed against him, his
entire body aching with need.
“Fuck, Ben. You’re so fucking ready for me,” Alec rasped.
Then he prowled closer, pushing his cock between Ben’s cheeks, spreading Ben’s ass
with his sheer thickness. Ben cried out. He couldn’t breathe, not when Alec’s bare cock
slid between his cheeks, kissing his hole. It was so big that Ben almost thought it might
break him.
“Last chance to say no,” Alec whispered in his ear, rolling his hips so his blunt head
pressed sweetly against Ben’s entrance. “Say it, Ben. Right now.”
“Inside, please,” Ben gasped. He shoved himself at Alec, smearing his slick between
their most sensitive parts.
Alec swore. And he thrust hard against Ben’s hole, pushing in, spreading him open⁠—a
sweet, blissful presence. Alec was inside him.
Ben choked on his moan. His entire body sang, squeezing around his alpha. “Alec,” he
croaked, shoving himself down, trying to take all of Alec inside.
“Fuck. Slow down,” Alec hissed, anchoring Ben against himself. “I⁠—I wanna make you
feel good inside. Can’t⁠—Can’t do that as much if I come.”
Ben whimpered, shoving himself at Alec, trying to take him all the way inside. “More.
Please.”
“I’ll give you more,” Alec promised. Ever so slowly, he slid his cock into Ben, thick and
big, an unyielding length that snared all of Ben’s attention. Alec groaned. “Feel good?”
Ben nodded furiously. His own cock had grown painfully hard, leaking onto the sheets.
But right now, all he cared about was Alec inside him, his brother’s cock massaging him
with slow, blissful strokes, like two parts of a puzzle piece had fitted perfectly together.
“You’re so tight,” Alec rasped, pushing in all the way until their hips met, skin to skin.
“Can’t believe you’re so fucking wet for me, Ben.”
“I’ve always been wet for you,” Ben whimpered. “I need more. Please, Alec.”
Alec growled. He reached around, tracing Ben’s cock reverently. “I made you hard.”
Ben nodded, rutting into Alec’s hand. “More. Please.” He lowered his chest to the
mattress, offering Alec all of himself. Alec swore, his cock grinding a jolt of pleasure
through Ben’s body. Ben wheezed.
Maybe he shouldn’t enjoy this so much. Alec was the last person he should be doing
this with. But Alec’s cock stroked him inside, it was caressing him in the most intimate
of places, and he made Ben’s body sing in a way no one else ever had.
“I want more,” Ben whispered. “I want your come.”
Alec tensed and groaned. He grasped Ben’s hips and pulled almost all the way out.
Then he slammed it all back in, searing a trail of pleasure into Ben. Ben’s spine arched.
“You really can’t keep quiet, can you?” Alec rasped, pressing his palm over Ben’s
mouth. Ben wasn’t even aware that he’d made a sound.
“I don’t make sounds,” Ben panted against his hand. The words came out muffled.
Alec leaned in, his cock pushing deeper into Ben’s body. He lifted his hand away from
Ben’s mouth. “What?”
Ben repeated himself.
Alec huffed, his voice rough. “Fuck, yeah, you do. You make the hottest damn sounds.
‘Specially when I do this.”
He covered Ben’s mouth. Then Alec fucked back into him, deep and hard. Ben choked
on his gasp, a sound vibrating through Alec’s palm. That had been from him. And he
hadn’t even realized it, so focused had he been on Alec mating with him, Alec’s cock
opening his hole so wide.
Alec leaned in, his chest heaving against Ben’s back. “You see what you do to me,” Alec
whispered in his ear. Then he fucked in roughly, the friction from his cock sending bliss
down Ben’s nerves. “But the best thing is that it makes you feel good, too.”
And Alec pumped Ben’s cock, increasing the speed of his thrusts so that Ben writhed
and took him, over and over, pleasure pulsing through his body. Ben felt himself
hurtling toward the edge, his cock too-sensitive, his balls pulling tight.
To an observer, maybe this would’ve been utterly scandalous. Ben almost worried
about it, except Alec thrust back into him, driving all thought out of his mind.
“Come for me,” Alec murmured, biting down on his shoulder. Then he crammed every
last inch inside, his cock grinding against Ben’s prostate.
Pleasure crashed through Ben’s body, rippling all the way down to his toes. He
shuddered and gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head, all his nerves tingling. He
couldn’t speak or breathe. He could only feel. And Alec felt glorious inside him.
“I never believed that anyone would scream when they came,” Alec rasped into Ben’s
ear, his breath hot. “Did you hear yourself?”
I screamed? Ben gasped for breath, shaking with the aftershocks of his release. He’d
come with Alec inside him. There was come all over the bed beneath him, and Alec was
holding him tighter, his strokes more urgent as he fucked inside Ben.
“Please,” Ben whispered. “I want your come.”
Alec swore. And his cock swelled inside Ben, stretching him wider. His strokes grew
more frantic, his grip on Ben tightening painfully. But Ben didn’t mind⁠—it meant that
this was real. That his stepbrother was inside him, that their bodies were intimately
joined, Ben’s slick covering Alec’s cock.
Alec pounded hard into him, his cock claiming all of Ben, until Ben felt like his. And
Alec came with a bitten-off groan, shoving in deep as he pulsed inside Ben, the heat of
his come soaking into Ben’s body.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Ben only heard the rasp of his own
breathing, and Alec panting behind him. Alec turned them both onto their sides, his
arms wrapping around Ben, pulling Ben snug against his sweaty chest. The come on the
bed sheets smeared all over Ben’s skin.
“We’re a mess,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.
This had happened. He’d slept with Alec. And it had been the most satisfying sex Ben
had ever had in his life. Except... he wanted more. He didn’t want Alec to pull away
and leave. His throat tightened.
Alec’s knot began to swell inside him, wide and heavy. Ben bit his lip. It shouldn’t
happen⁠—bad enough that he’d fucked Alec.
With great reluctance, he leaned away, so Alec’s cock slid out of him. Ben missed him
immediately.
Alec tightened his arms around Ben’s waist, pulling him back. “You don’t want my
knot?”
How would it feel to take Alec’s knot? Ben’s face burned. He wanted it. And yet... “We
shouldn’t,” he croaked. His throat felt raw. He was sweaty all over, and he probably
needed a shower. But Alec felt warm and safe around him, and he didn’t want to leave.
“You like me,” Alec murmured, kissing Ben’s nape.
Ben bit his lip. “I’m not supposed to like you.”
“But you do anyway.” There was the slightest smile in Alec’s voice. Then he pressed his
slippery cock between Ben’s cheeks, reminding Ben of what they’d just done.
Ben whimpered, embarrassed. Alec had seen his most intimate parts. Alec knew that
Ben liked him. Except... Alec hadn’t minded it at all. Maybe this is all a really weird dream.
Then Alec bit lightly into his shoulder, reminding him that this⁠—Alec’s teeth, his damp
cock, the cold come sticking to Ben’s side⁠—they were all real.
Izzy snored softly some feet away, oblivious to the scandal that had just happened in
the cabin. No one could find out about this. Ben squirmed. “I should wash up. I’m a
mess.”
Alec rumbled. “Nah. Let’s just sleep in my bed. It’s clean there.”
He straightened Ben’s sweater, using it to scrub off Ben’s come. Then he tidied the rest
of Ben’s clothes, and scooped Ben into his arms. Ben yelped.
Alec brought him over to the other side of the stove, laid him down, and shoved down
the covers. “You’re sleeping with me tonight,” Alec growled.
Ben flushed. It sounded so perfect. “But...”
“Mine.” Alec’s eyes gleamed. “All mine, Ben.”
He wrapped himself around Ben, pulling the covers over them both. Ben didn’t have it
in him to protest, not when his limbs felt like jelly, and Alec made him feel so good. He
let Alec pull their bodies snug, Alec’s knot brushing faintly against his ass.
With Alec’s breath rustling through his hair, and Alec’s arms secure around him, Ben
fell asleep, completely at peace for the first time in forever.
It didn’t occur to either of them that they’d forgotten to use a contraceptive.
⁠
B EN WOKE to Izzy tapping him on the shoulder. “Daddy,” he said. “There’s no more
fire in the stove.”
Ben cracked his eyes open, squinting at Izzy’s little face. “No more fire?”
“Uh-uh.” Izzy shook his head. “I’m cold.”
There was no crackling in the wood stove. And from the darkened windows, they were
still snowed in. Ben sighed. He didn’t feel like leaving the sheer warmth of his bed⁠—it
was just so comfortable. So he lifted the covers. “Come snuggle with me.”
Izzy glanced uncertainly past Ben. “But... aren’t you doing the sex thing with Uncle
Alec?”
Ben stopped breathing. “What sex thing?”
Izzy pointed just behind Ben’s head, his brow furrowed. And Ben’s dread grew. What is
he talking about?
Someone rumbled right behind him, a warm, heavy weight tightening around Ben’s
hips. “No sex,” Alec said into Ben’s hair. “We’re just sleeping.”
Ben’s heart thumped. He yelped, scrambling around. Alec was in his bed.
Alec smiled crookedly up at him. “Morning, beautiful.”
Ben blushed. And he remembered the events from last night⁠—Alec sitting with him on
the couch, Alec touching Ben’s cock, Alec sliding inside him. Ben’s entire body burned
hotter than the stove. His ass ached in the most pleasant way. “Oh, gods. We... We...”
I slept with Alec.
Alec reached up, brushing his fingers through Ben’s hair. “You’re every bit better than I
imagined,” he murmured, his thumb stroking along Ben’s lower lip. “So perfect.”
Ben’s mouth tingled. He didn’t know how to respond. You shouldn’t be praised for
getting into your stepbrother’s pants. Except he’d always wanted Alec’s acceptance,
he’d always wanted Alec to think he was pretty. And now Alec was just... admiring
him.
“This is still a dream,” Ben croaked.

Alec smiled wider. “No. And I’m damn glad it isn’t.”
He stroked along Ben’s jaw, catching his chin. And his hot fingers trailed down Ben’s
throat, leaving little whispers of pleasure through Ben’s skin. Ben gulped. Alec’s
touching me. This is really real.
Then Alec sat up, lightly cupping Ben’s nape. His gaze dropped to Ben’s mouth; Ben
knew on instinct what Alec wanted. He wanted the same⁠—only he was too afraid to
admit to it.
“You might not want to look, Izzy. It’s going to be gross,” Alec said, glancing over.
“Cover your eyes!”
Izzy covered his eyes. Alec’s smile only widened; he leaned in, brushing Ben’s lips with
his own in the softest of kisses. Like last night, Alec’s breath rushed over his skin, and
Ben’s body tingled all over.
Ben’s heart skipped. Alec kissed me. And it isn’t even for sex. “The way you said that, I
thought I would be attacked by a rabid tongue monster.”
Alec grinned. “Do you want to be?”
The kisses last night had made Ben hot all over; Ben really wanted to experience them
again. He bit his lip. “Maybe later.”
Alec’s gaze darkened. “Don’t forget, you asked.” Then he wrapped his arms around
Ben and hauled him back down onto the mattress, tickling him.
Ben gasped and squealed. “Alec!”
“I hate it when Daddy tickles me,” Izzy said.
Alec winked. “I’ll help you tickle him back. How about that?” Then he tickled Ben
again, and Ben shrieked, trying to fend off those ticklish hands.
Except Alec stroked up to Ben’s nipples and pinched them, and Ben felt it all the way
down his spine.
No, they weren’t just brothers now.
“So sensitive,” Alec growled, splaying his hands across Ben’s chest. Then he slid them
down and tickled Ben again, those fingers moving firm and knowingly against his
body.
Ben squealed and hunched over, trying to defend himself. “Alec! Stop!”
To his surprise, Alec stopped. He backed off the mattress with a smile, pulling the
covers back over Ben. “Okay, I’ll stop. There, Izzy, go snuggle with your dad. I’ll check
on the ventilation holes, and I’ll be back to start the fire after that.”
Ben stared, trying to figure how things had changed this quickly between them. It had
only been a couple days. And the way Alec looked at Ben⁠—it was as though he thought
of Ben as someone precious. Ben bit his lip.
“That wasn’t gross at all,” Izzy whispered.
Ben didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. “Oh, Izzy.”
“Do you like Uncle Alec?” Izzy asked. He watched Alec prowl around the perimeter of
the cabin, checking on the windows.
Ben hesitated. He’d already told Izzy that he and Alec were stepbrothers. But Alec had
kissed Ben, he’d slept with Ben, and... either way, Ben would just be contradicting
himself if he said no. Feeling like a terrible father, Ben nodded. “But it’s a secret, okay?
No one else is supposed to know.”
“Not Grandma or Great-Grandma?” Izzy whispered, his eyes wide.
Ben’s stomach sank. Back in Meadowfall, he and Izzy lived with Ben and Alec’s mom,
and their grandmother. After he’d divorced William, Ben had nowhere to go. He’d
needed help taking care of Izzy. Mom had offered him a place to stay; Ben had taken
her up on the offer. He still couldn’t afford to move out, not with his troubles with the
bakery.
So when he and Izzy returned home... the last thing he needed was for Izzy to tell Mom
and Gran that Ben had been kissing Alec.
I don’t want to teach Izzy to keep secrets. Ben bit his lip. But what choice did he have,
really? “If your grandma and great-grandma find out about me and Uncle Alec... they
might kick us out of the apartment.”
Izzy frowned. “Why?”
Ben rubbed his face, hoping Alec couldn’t hear. “Because Uncle Alec is my stepbrother.
We’re not supposed to⁠—to kiss our brothers or stepbrothers like that.”
Izzy looked quizzical. “But you can kiss me.”
Ben cracked a smile, pulling Izzy into a hug. Izzy was always adorable⁠—Ben had never
regretted keeping him. “That’s because you’re not my alpha, hon. But Uncle Alec, he⁠—
he might want to be my alpha.”
Did he? Maybe Alec was just treating this as a one-night stand. Ben’s heart shriveled.
Izzy’s eyes had gone round. “Does that mean you’ll marry Uncle Alec?”
I can’t even think that far right now. “No. I don’t think he’ll want to marry me. We’re just
temporary boyfriends.”
It sucked to say, but at the same time... Ben had never thought of Alec as his boyfriend
before. And now he wanted to know what that felt like⁠—going on dates with Alec, just
having Alec hold him. His stomach flipped.
Maybe, for as long as they were snowed in, Ben could pretend that the three of them
were a family. That Alec didn’t want him just for sex. His heart quickened.
“So you’re secret boyfriends,” Izzy whispered, covering his mouth.
Ben cracked a smile. “I guess we are.”
Hopefully that wouldn’t change Alec’s mind. “So because Uncle Alec and I are secret
boyfriends, no one can find out, all right?” Ben said.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Izzy pretended to zip his mouth shut. Then he went back to
watching Alec, who was shoveling snow in the narrow tunnel outside the cabin.
Ben stopped breathing. “Alec,” he called, panic crawling up his throat. “Watch out for
the nails. Please.”
Alec saluted through the windows. “I am. But I won’t say no to you playing Doctor
again.”
Then he winked, and Ben’s cheeks burned. Ben cleared his throat, trying to pretend that
Alec didn’t get him all flustered. “Don’t joke around like that.”
“I’m not joking.” Alec dropped the flirting, his smile turning mellow. “I promised that
I’ll protect you guys. I’ll be fine.”
When he said it like that, Ben couldn’t help but trust him. Alec was handsome and
capable. Now that he had slept in Alec’s arms, now that Alec had kissed him... he
wanted more. And he dreaded the time when this would end.
It didn’t take long before Alec stepped back into the cabin, stomping the snow off his
shoes. Ben hurried over, his attention locking onto Alec’s feet. Alec caught him in a hug.
“I’m fine,” he growled, dropping a kiss on Ben’s lips. “You don’t have to worry.”
Ben flushed. “I’m⁠—I’m that obvious?”

Alec smiled warmly at him. “You kind of are, yes. I just⁠—wish I’d figured that out all
those years ago.” His smile faded. “I wouldn’t have left.”
Ben’s stomach flipped. “You can still leave now.”
Except Alec caught Ben’s lips in a slow, sweet kiss. “I’m not leaving.”
And he dragged his wrists down Ben’s jaw, leaving a trail of teak on Ben’s skin. Ben
stopped breathing. Alec was marking him.
“I-I told Izzy that we’re being secret boyfriends,” Ben gasped, his heart stumbling. “I
just⁠—I just wanted to give you a warning. I’m sorry if you don’t like that word, or⁠—”
Alec kissed him again. “Boyfriends?” he rumbled, pressing their foreheads together.
“You and me?”
Then he cupped Ben’s face and let their lips slide together, skin on velvety skin, and Ben
felt like the most important person in the world. His heart thumped so fast, he thought
he would faint. “Alec⁠—”
“Gods, yes, I’ll be your boyfriend,” Alec whispered. “Anytime, anywhere. Forever.”
Ben’s heart stopped. You can’t possibly mean that. I’m not as perfect as you make me out to be.
“I...”
“No?” Alec hesitated, looking uncertain.
Ben shoved away his worries. We’re pretending. It’s fine. “Yes,” he said. “I would like
that.”
Alec brightened, so happy that he almost hurt to look at. And Ben wanted to climb onto
him, he wanted to slide his hand under Alec’s shirt, into Alec’s pants, and maybe see if
Alec would let Ben suck on him.
Looks like I’m still in heat. But it wasn’t quite as distracting as it should be⁠—Ben’s heats
were usually the worst a day or two in, when his body would ache, and he would lock
himself away with a toy, needing an alpha to pin him down.
Well, Alec already had, last night. He’d come deep inside Ben’s body.
And Ben hadn’t even thought about using a condom.
Ben stopped breathing. He looked down at his flat belly, panic creeping into his veins.
“What’s wrong?” Alec asked, crowding closer.

“Last⁠—Last night,” Ben gasped, trying to breathe. Alec’s seed is inside me. It’s been there
for hours. “I’m not on the pill. And... and we had no condoms.”
Alec froze, horror flashing through his gaze. “Shit.”
Ben ran through all the options in his mind. Morning-after pills were impossible to get
right now. They were two miles into the woods, and they were probably surrounded by
snow on all sides. Would there be any in the medicine cabinet? Was there any chance
they could wash Alec’s seed out? Or was it already too late?
The same thought must’ve crossed Alec’s mind, because he was tugging Ben toward the
bathroom. “Wait here,” Alec said, kissing Ben’s forehead. “Let me get the stove
running. Then we’ll sort this out.”
Ben sat shakily on the toilet, hugging himself. He looked at his belly. What if he got
pregnant with Alec’s child? He couldn’t possibly abort it⁠—not when it was Alec’s. But
what would he tell their mom? Would Mom disown Ben?
Could he keep this a secret forever?
He pulled out his phone, trying to breathe. His lungs felt like they were on the verge of
collapsing. He needed to do something. Anything. How do I help myself? Then the phone
began to vibrate⁠—a call. Through the taped-up cracks on its screen, the phone flashed,
Mom.
Ben’s heart stopped. The phone fell out of his hands, clattering onto the floor.
For a few moments, Ben stared at his phone, unsure what he should do. If he rejected
the call, Mom would try again. He wasn’t sure he was in any position to speak right
now.
Alec stepped into the bathroom, and Ben jumped. Alec’s face fell. “Ben?”
Ben couldn’t answer. He looked at the phone on the floor; Alec crouched to pick it up.
Then he hit the Answer button, lifting it to his ear.
“No!” Ben’s chest squeezed. Mom doesn’t know you’re here!
Alec froze, meeting his eyes. No? he mouthed.
Ben shook his head so hard, he thought he might sprain his neck. He tried to mouth an
answer to Alec, but he couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
In the end, he reached out for the phone. Alec handed it over.
“Ben?” Mom asked on the other end of the line, her voice tinny.
“Sorry,” Ben said breathlessly. “I, uh, there was some trouble.” The moment those
words left his mouth, he regretted it.
“Trouble?” Mom asked, sounding worried. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. “Um.” Ben still couldn’t breathe. He wished he could just... say something.
He wished he could say he was fine, but he was a hair away from breaking down right
now.
Alec knelt next to Ben, sliding his arms around Ben’s waist. “It’ll be fine,” he murmured
against Ben’s chest, his voice muffling against the sweater. “It’s Mom. She’ll
understand.”
But even he didn’t sound so certain. Ben tried to make his heart slow down.
“Ben?” Mom asked. “Is there someone with you?”
“N-no, it’s just me,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to lie. Especially not about Alec.
Especially when Alec tightened his arms around Ben⁠—he’d heard the lie. But Ben
couldn’t help thinking about the future, when he arrived home pregnant and Mom
would ask whose baby it was. “How is Gran?”
Alec squeezed Ben’s hips, dropping kisses on his chest, then along his shoulder, his
presence far too distracting.
“Gran’s doing better,” Mom answered. “She’s back on her sewing machine.”
“That’s⁠—That’s good.” At least Gran was doing better. At least she didn’t have to worry
about a pregnancy.
“It is. Anyway, I just wanted to check on you. I’m heading down to Ben’s Buns for a bit.
Vic called and asked for help.”
“Wait, Vic called you?” Vic was Ben’s head assistant; Ben had given Vic permission to
ask Mom for help. Only when he desperately needed it, though. Ben didn’t want Mom
to discover what bad shape his bakery was in.
“Yes, he asked if I could watch the register while he sees to the deliveries. Looks like
you’re shorthanded today.”
Again? Ben sagged forward, covering his face. “Oh. The bakery should be fine, really⁠—”
“Ben,” Alec murmured, kissing his jaw.
“Is there someone else in the cabin with you? I don’t mean Izzy,” Mom said. “I thought
I heard someone.”
Ben’s face burned. “Um. A⁠—a friend.”
“Oh! You should’ve said so earlier. Do I know them?”
How do I answer that? Ben bit his lip, trying not to remember Alec plowing inside him.
“Maybe. You might not remember him.”
If Mom ever found out, Ben was going to be in so, so much trouble.
“Tell me more when you get back,” Mom said. “I’ll get Temmie or Theo to check on
you. They might be able to bring you supplies and all that.”
If Ben’s cousins stepped into the cabin, they’d smell the musk from both Ben and Alec.
He wanted to fling his phone far away. “No, no. We’ll be fine. Temmie left some food
here. I don’t want to inconvenience them.”
“If you say so.” Mom sounded doubtful. “I have to head out. Text me, all right? You
didn’t answer my text from yesterday. I wouldn’t usually ask, except you’re snowed in.
That sounds dangerous.”
He knew Mom was protective of him; it was just that he’d gotten so distracted by Alec
last night. And this morning. “We really are fine,” Ben said. “My⁠—My friend, he’s a
firefighter. I think we’ll be okay.”
“Oh! Maybe Alec knows him. I’ll ask him about it the next time,” Mom said. “Alec isn’t
there, is he? He said he might not make it to the wedding.”
“No, he isn’t.” I can’t believe I’m lying so much. Ben wanted to curl into a tiny ball and
never show his face again. “I have to go, too. I promise I’ll text more often.”
Alec slipped his hand under Ben’s sweater, pressing his palm over Ben’s heart. When
Ben finally hit the End Call button, he breathed a sigh, leaning bonelessly into Alec.
“How is she?” Alec murmured, nuzzling Ben’s shoulder. Ben couldn’t face him, either.
“Mom’s fine. Gran’s doing better.” He closed his eyes, letting Alec pull him to his feet.
“I don’t know what to tell them, Alec. When I go home, and⁠—and...” He touched his
belly, squirming at the thought of a life growing in there. Alec’s child.
Then he realized that Temmie and Theo had seen Alec at the wedding. And Mom could
just as easily discover that Ben had lied to her. Ben whimpered, hiding his face in Alec’s
chest.
“Tell me how I can make it better,” Alec murmured.

Ben shook his head. “You can’t. I just⁠—I just told Mom that you aren’t here. But what if
Temmie calls her and mentions you?”
He was in so much trouble.
Alec sucked in a slow breath. He hugged Ben tight, kissing Ben’s jaw, and up his ear.
Then he dropped kisses all over Ben’s face, brushing his fingers through Ben’s hair. It
felt so much like the old times, that Ben relaxed a little. Alec had helped him solve his
problems before. Maybe... Alec would help him again.
“Sorry,” Alec breathed against Ben’s temple. “We’ll figure this out somehow. But it’s
not your fault, okay? I fucked up. I should’ve known better. Should’ve just held off. I
can’t believe I forgot about condoms.” For a moment, he looked furious with himself.
Ben shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault.”
“I stepped into that kitchen knowing you were horny.” Alec narrowed his eyes. “Then I
kissed you, and I touched you.”
The memory of his caresses calmed Ben a little, too. “I’m glad you did it.”
Alec looked away, his lips a thin line. “I want to be your alpha, Ben. I can’t if I keep
fucking up. First that bastard you married, and now⁠—”
Distracted, Ben glanced up. “You know about William?”
Alec’s cheeks colored, but he narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Alec probably knew that William hadn’t seen enough good in Ben to stick
around. It wasn’t a good topic, so he changed the subject. “I should search in the
medicine cabinet. Maybe there’ll be some morning-after pills in there.”
“Maybe I should call Tem and ask if she can bring some,” Alec muttered.
A cold chill slithered down Ben’s spine. “No! She⁠—She knows that it’s just us in the
cabin. Besides, she⁠—she asked if I needed condoms. I said no. I didn’t think we’d...”
He blushed; Alec’s gaze softened. Alec blew out a breath, gathering Ben against his
chest. “Every time I look, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
Ben trembled, leaning into him. Everything that Alec did promised safety. Alec stroked
his hair, kissing his temple. Then he shuffled them over to the medicine cabinet, riffling
through it while Ben clung to him.
“Doesn’t look like there’s any in here,” Alec muttered.

Ben’s heart sank. “What do we do?”
Alec hesitated. “We could try washing my come out of you. Just in case there’s still time
for that.”
Ben tried to push everything out of his mind⁠—the possible pregnancy, hiding it from
Mom, trying to explain his illicit relationship to Izzy. “How do we do that? We don’t
even have running water.”
“I thought I saw a funnel in the kitchen,” Alec said.
“A funnel?” Ben squawked. He couldn’t imagine using that. It was so... humiliating.
“It’ll be a mess.”
“I’ll help,” Alec murmured, kissing his ear.
Ben imagined being entirely naked in front of Alec, having Alec pour water into his ass.
His cock grew thick, betraying him. He groaned and covered his face. How does that even
turn me on?
“You like that,” Alec growled, kissing his ear.
And now there was musk in the bathroom, too. Ben couldn’t tell if it was his own, or
Alec’s.
“It’s my heat,” Ben mumbled. That was probably a lie.
“I’ll melt some snow.” Alec patted Ben’s ass, before releasing him. “Take your pants off.
The washing shouldn’t take too long. We’ll get it over with.”
Ben gulped. He shouldn’t look forward to Alec’s intimate touch. Or even just... having
Alec look at where he was most vulnerable. Then there were the scars that Alec had
missed last night, somehow.
This secret boyfriend thing isn’t going to last. I should focus on something else. So Alec won’t
think I’m this desperate for him all the time.
Because that was a lot easier to deal with, than the possibility of carrying his
stepbrother’s child.
⁠
D ON ’ T FUCK up this time. Just don’t. Alec tightened his grip on the pan of warm water,
knocking on the bathroom door.
“I’m ready,” Ben said, his voice muffled.
For a moment, Alec hesitated. He thought about the various states he could find Ben
in⁠—half-dressed, or maybe with all his clothes still on. Or maybe Ben was naked and
bending over, just waiting for Alec to touch his ass. Alec’s breath snagged; his blood
thrummed with desire.
No. We’re supposed to wash out my come. That’s all. Bad enough that he’d gone and slept
with Ben. Bad enough that he’d gone into a rut⁠—his very first⁠—and he’d completely
forgotten about contraceptives.
Alec had touched Ben last night, smelled his musk, and all his common sense had gone
straight out the window. He’d wanted to claim Ben. He’d wanted his marking all over
his omega, and the way Ben had whimpered when Alec’s cock brushed his skin, well.
The only sound that had made Alec harder was when Ben had taken his cock for the
very first time, and Ben had choked on his moan.
Alec swallowed hard, opening the bathroom door. Inside, Ben was perched on the edge
of the tub, still clad in his sweater, his legs completely bare. He was back to looking so
lost and dejected, that the urgency in Alec’s veins cooled. I shouldn’t have left him for so
long.
“Hey,” Alec murmured, setting the pan of water on a rug. He locked the bathroom
door⁠—Izzy knew to knock if there was any trouble⁠—and turned back. “It’ll be fine. I
promise.”
But Ben looked up at him, all worried. “I don’t know if I can afford a second child. I
just...”
Alec crouched and drew Ben tight against his chest. “If you get pregnant, I’ll be
responsible for our baby. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Ben didn’t seem convinced. “But⁠—”
Alec kissed him. He let their lips brush together, soft and sweet, and kissed Ben over
and over, stroking Ben’s hair, touching his face. Ben trembled, sniffling a little. Alec’s
heart twisted. “Don’t cry.” Alec brushed his wrists all over Ben, everywhere he could
reach. “I promise I’ll help. Even with Izzy. You aren’t gonna be in this alone. I promise.”
“But if⁠—if I get pregnant, the commitment will be forever,” Ben mumbled, looking
distraught. “You can’t possibly want to stick around for that long.”
“I will.” Alec didn’t even doubt it. “Remember when we were kids and you were sick
all the time? And I always waited at the bus stop for you?”
Ben bit his lip, tears welling up in his eyes. He nodded. Alec hated himself for fucking
up so badly, for making Ben cry.
He held Ben, murmuring into his ear. Then he brushed Ben’s tears away and kissed his
forehead, stroking down Ben’s spine. At the back of his mind, Alec acknowledged that a
child might result from this. That the funnel and warm water might not work, and he
wouldn’t only have Ben and Izzy, but also a whole new life on his hands.
He didn’t have much idea how to raise a child. It made him panic a little, because he
didn’t want to fuck that up, too.
Not only that. To help Ben with their baby, he would have to show up at Ben’s place. At
some point, he would bump into their mom. And Gran. Alec could bear it if they
decided to disown him, but if he caused Ben to be estranged from the rest of their
family... He would never forgive himself.
“We’ll see if the washing works,” he murmured, kissing Ben’s cheek. “If it doesn’t, I
swear that I’ll be here anyway.”
“You’re really sure about it,” Ben said shakily. “Even if this means we might have a
child.”
“Even then. Especially then.” He kissed Ben’s tears away, rubbing the scent glands at
Ben’s wrists, getting Ben’s daisy scent on himself.
In an attempt to distract Ben, Alec caught his hand and kissed his knuckles. He dragged
his lips down to Ben’s wrist, found the spot that smelled most strongly of daisy, and
closed his lips over it.
Ben made a small, surprised sound. And Alec sucked lightly on his scent gland⁠—
enough that Ben stiffened, his eyes flying open.
“Alec,” he gasped.
“Feels bad?” Alec murmured.

He’d sucked on his own wrists before⁠—it had felt like a small jolt down his spine,
nothing very special. Kind of like sucking on your own finger⁠—it was always better
when someone else did it.
“It⁠—feels good,” Ben whispered. His attention had locked onto Alec now, exactly what
Alec wanted.
So Alec leaned in, slanting their lips together. “Focus on me, Ben. I’m your alpha.”
Ben flushed such a deep red, Alec thought he might faint. “Y-you are?” Ben squeaked.
It flustered him. And that made something in Alec’s chest rumble. “Yes,” he growled,
brushing his scent down Ben’s throat. “We’re boyfriends, remember?”
“Secret boyfriends,” Ben breathed, disbelief in his eyes.
“So you’re mine.”
Ben whimpered. When Alec sucked on his wrist again, musk rolled off his skin. It was
surprising how strongly Ben reacted to him⁠—last night, when Alec had scooted over to
him on the couch, Ben had trembled and leaned closer. Alec wasn’t sure if Ben had been
aware of it, or if he knew how much he’d smelled like musk.
He cupped Ben’s face, kissing him softly on the mouth. Right now, Ben smelled like
daisy and soap. When Alec flicked his tongue against Ben’s lips, Ben opened eagerly for
him, welcoming his entrance. Alec’s instincts roared.
He didn’t need a second invitation. He surged into Ben’s mouth, claiming him inside,
tangling their tongues together. Ben moaned, his tongue soft and damp, sliding
hungrily against Alec’s own.
Kissing Ben⁠—this was forbidden and sinful and exquisite, when Ben whimpered and
pressed himself flush against Alec’s chest, offering more of himself. Every part of Alec
wanted to pull Ben closer and pleasure him and make Ben his.
He almost felt bad about touching Ben when Ben was in heat and vulnerable, except
he’d given Ben so many chances to leave. And Ben kept inviting him back, he kept
pleading for more⁠—even now.
“Alec,” Ben whispered, his gaze darkening. He slid his hand down Alec’s chest and
under his sweater, splaying his palm across Alec’s bare abs. Then he caressed Alec’s
muscles and moaned, and Alec’s cock shoved against his pants, eager to return inside
his omega.
He broke the kiss unwillingly, stopping Ben before Ben could distract him. “We’re in
the middle of something here,” Alec growled. “Don’t forget.”
Ben blinked, his face falling. That gutted Alec. He didn’t want to disappoint his omega.
So he grasped Ben’s bare ass and squeezed. It yielded so nicely against his fingers. “I
promise you’ll get something good when we’re done,” Alec murmured.
To give Ben a hint, he spread Ben’s ass a little, slipping his finger between Ben’s damp
cheeks. Musk thickened in the air; Ben gasped, his puckered hole relaxing for Alec. Like
it wanted Alec to push inside.
Alec had to force himself to release Ben’s ass. He wanted to slide deep into Ben’s heat,
he wanted to hear Ben’s pleasured moans.
“Funnel,” he told himself.
He stepped away, except Ben reached down, cupping Alec’s cock through his pants.
Ben’s touch was light but firm, searing through the fabric. Alec’s cock throbbed.
“Fuck,” he rasped. It felt like he could split his pants. Before this, he’d only dreamed
about Ben touching his cock.
“You just feel so good,” Ben admitted, licking his lips. Then he squeezed Alec, an
insistent, growing pressure, and his mouth fell open in a soft moan.
Alec sucked in a deep breath, turning away. He grabbed a towel. “Here. We’ll need you
on your back, but it’s gonna be cold. It’ll just take twenty minutes, Benny. Then you’ll
get your reward.”
Ben blushed at that old nickname⁠—he was so perfect. Damn it. Stop mooning over him.
Alec made himself look away while Ben climbed into the tub. He found the towel he’d
used last night, turning back as Ben fumbled. So Alec sat on the tub’s edge, helping to
wrap the towel snug around him.
“Thanks,” Ben murmured.
Alec kissed the top of his head. Ben lay against the sloped end of the tub, pulling his
knees against his chest. This put his creamy thighs in full view, along with his tight ass,
and the puckered hole nestled between his cheeks.
Yeah, Alec hadn’t been able to forget about Ben, especially that pink, secret place, the
spot that had been soaked for him last night.
His pants too tight, Alec dragged his eyes away. He tucked a rolled-up towel under
Ben’s ass to prop him up a little. Then he set the pan of water in the tub, grabbing the
plastic funnel off the bathroom counter.
“Is this too warm?” He checked the temperature of the water, then touched the side of
the saucepan to Ben’s ass.
Ben jerked, his ass clenching. Alec pulled the pan away; Ben shook his head. “No, I was
just surprised, that’s all.”
So Alec pressed the pan back against him, brief touches that lingered on Ben’s skin the
more he grew used to it. Ben relaxed, closing his eyes.
The water had cooled a little since Alec had stepped into the bathroom. He left the pan
in the tub, climbed in behind it, and cupped Ben’s thigh. It almost felt crowded with the
two of them⁠—Alec was broad, his knees bumping into the sides of the tub.
“I’m gonna insert the funnel,” he said.
Ben’s flush went all the way down his throat. “Okay. Do I have to, um.” He spread his
closed legs, treating Alec to a view of his tight balls, his half-hard cock, and that
tempting hole. The one Alec would be touching a lot for the next few minutes.
Alec swallowed, rubbing his thumb over Ben’s entrance. It was firmly clenched shut.
He couldn’t help touching it again, letting the calluses on his thumb scrape against it.
Ben whimpered.
“This is good,” Alec growled. “Keep your legs open.” Whether it actually helped the
process, Alec wasn’t sure. He just really liked the view.
He massaged Ben’s hole, rubbed around it a couple of times, spreading the dampness
that had leaked out. Then he pushed his thumb into that opening, watching as Ben
stretched around him. I’m touching inside Ben. “Is this okay?”
Ben nodded, his throat working. So Alec pushed his thumb deeper, all the way past his
first knuckle. Gods, Ben burned like a furnace inside, and he was wet. Alec’s blood
grew hot. Stop thinking about it.
Satisfied with how slick Ben was, Alec withdrew his thumb, nudging the smooth,
tapered end of the funnel against Ben’s hole. “I’m pushing it in.”
Ben’s ears turned pink. And Alec pressed lightly on the funnel, until Ben’s ass opened,
swallowing its narrow end. It was shadowy inside his ass; Alec grabbed the mug he’d
left outside the tub and scooped up a bit of water, pouring it into the funnel.
Ben jerked again, his hole clenching. “I can feel it.”
“Yeah? Is it warm?” Alec had to push the funnel down, to prevent Ben from
accidentally squeezing it out. He added a little more water, watching as it drained into
Ben. Then he added more.
Ben shook his head. “It’s just a bit warm.”
“Probably because you’re so hot inside.” Alec had probably growled that. “Too much?”
“No, I’m fine.”
So Alec held the funnel steady, bracing his hand against Ben’s taint for support. Then he
added slowly to the funnel until the water backed up, and it didn’t drain anymore. It
didn’t feel like he’d poured much into Ben, though. “Think I can probably get more
inside if we stretch you out a bit.”
Ben gulped. “It’s not enough?” His hole squeezed, and the funnel nudged against
Alec’s fingers. Funny how Alec could see every little movement that Ben’s hole made,
just from that funnel alone. Stop thinking about his hole. Except the funnel twitched again.
Alec’s throat went dry.
“Something making you anxious?” he growled, rubbing his finger against Ben’s
stretched-open entrance. Then he pushed the funnel a little deeper, opening him more.
Ben gasped, his cock growing thicker. He liked it when Alec put things inside him. Alec
almost forgot why they were doing this. He made himself withdraw the funnel from
Ben’s ass, letting the remaining water trickle down Ben’s cheeks. “I’m gonna stretch you
open,” he told Ben, his cock jerking with need. “So more water can fit in.”
Ben nodded mutely. Alec massaged his hole again, with two fingers this time. Then he
eased them into Ben’s tight heat, and scissored his fingers open, wide enough that the
funnel’s tip could fit between them.
Ben gasped, shoving his hand against his mouth, his eyes dark. Alec tried not to stare at
him. Fuck. Focus. But it was so damn difficult to ignore the two fingers he had inside his
omega. Ben’s hole fluttered, reacting to Alec’s touch.
He secured the funnel and poured more water into Ben, pushing his fingers deeper to
stretch Ben further. With how little water he was adding, compared to the size of his
cock, Alec didn’t think they were getting very far at all.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have put my cock in so deep,” he muttered. “Doesn’t seem like
there’s enough water to clean you out thoroughly.”
Ben’s ears turned pinker. “I don’t know. Maybe it’ll work somehow.”
“Maybe.” Alec removed the funnel. Before his fingers closed, he glimpsed Ben’s hole
stretched around them, open and inviting. And he couldn’t help slipping a third finger
inside, swirling it around. “Maybe this will help wash my come out.”
Ben gasped; his cock jerked against his belly. He flattened his hands over it. “What if⁠—
What if you reach deeper?” Ben blurted, his entire face turning red. “Um, so you can
clean more.”
“My fingers can only go so far,” Alec said. They wouldn’t go anywhere near as deep as
his cock had gone.
Ben wet his lips, unable to meet Alec’s eyes. “I wasn’t talking about your fingers.”
Fuck. Do you mean...?
Ben didn’t even look like he was joking.
“You’re⁠—serious,” Alec said. His cock throbbed. And now all he could think about was
sliding his cock back inside Ben.
“Yes,” Ben squeaked, his chest heaving. “I-I mean... it’ll, um, open me up, right? And⁠—
and it’ll go really deep.”
Yeah, it had ground all the way inside him, opening him completely. “There has to be a
better way,” Alec growled. Because putting my cock inside my stepbrother wasn’t in any
guidebook for pregnancy prevention.
“We could try it,” Ben croaked. “You can... always take it out if it doesn’t work.”
Alec wasn’t sure what sort of reasoning that was. But his hands were already on his
pants, pulling open his belt, unzipping his fly. Then he pushed down the waistband of
his boxers, and Ben’s choked-down moan made his cock so hard, it hurt.
“Maybe you should take your pants off,” Ben panted, his gaze raking down Alec’s cock.
“It might get messy.”
Alec climbed out of the tub. He wasn’t sure he was thinking straight anymore, but he
did move the pan and funnel onto the bathroom floor. He stepped out of his pants and
boxers. Then, to be sure they weren’t going to make a mess, he pulled off his shirt, too.
Back in the tub, Ben whined. “This is just... an advanced prevention method,” he said,
his gaze raking down Alec’s chest, pausing on his cock.
“Yeah,” Alec growled. “Probably better than a store-bought enema kit.”

Like hell it was.
The most important thing was that he needed not to come inside Ben a second time.
Alec steeled his resolve, stepping back into the tub. He knelt in front of Ben’s hips and
angled his cock down, pointing it at Ben’s hole.
They really weren’t having sex. It was... just a procedure.
“You’re so big,” Ben whispered, reaching down to spread his ass, presenting his damp
hole for Alec.
Alec almost slammed into him. Almost. His entire body trembled with his restraint.
He braced his hand next to Ben’s face, dipped his fingers into Ben’s hole for some
moisture, and smeared it all over his length. Carefully, he brushed his cock against
Ben’s entrance, pressing lightly on it.
“You’re sure,” Alec rasped, every bit of his attention focused on his tip, where it kissed
Ben’s hole.
“You’ll reach deeper with it,” Ben whispered. “We’re just... cleaning me out.”
Alec rolled his hips, carefully pushing down. Ben’s hole opened under the pressure of
his cock, sucking Alec into its tight, wet heat. Pleasure hissed through Alec’s nerves; he
wheezed and gripped his cock tightly, trying to hold back. I’m just dislodging my come
from Ben. I’m just gonna push all the way in and pull out.
He had to change his position to sheath himself fully; this moved his cock in, then out,
pushing sideways, shoving up against Ben’s prostate. Ben arched, whimpering. Alec
leaked inside him.
Then he sank the rest of his cock into Ben, just a sweet slow slide, Ben’s hole stretching
around Alec, their bodies joined intimately together.
Unlike last night, this was a deliberate touch, one that was less about pleasure, and
more about the awareness that he was really inside Ben, that he was touching Ben with
his cock. That Ben’s body was sucking around him, as though it was begging for his
come.
“I’m going deeper,” Alec murmured, trying to breathe.
He shuffled closer, leaning in so Ben’s lips were a hairsbreadth from his own. Their
gazes locked. And Alec pushed the deepest he could inside Ben, watching as Ben took
him, his mouth falling open in a low, pleasured groan.
This really wasn’t sex. Except it felt even more intimate than last night, when he could
feel every flutter and squeeze of Ben’s body, when he could see how much Ben enjoyed
having Alec inside him.
“I’m pulling out,” Alec rasped. “That’s enough washing, right?”
“That’s not scrubbing,” Ben whispered. “Maybe⁠—Maybe you need to do it harder. Like
you’re trying to grind the come out of my body.”
Alec groaned, his cock pulsing. “Grind it out of which hole?”
Ben’s blush covered so much of him, his nipples were probably also blushing. “My⁠—
My ass.”
Except when Alec rolled his hips, Ben’s cock strained, his tip pushing out past his
foreskin like it was searching for more touch. Alec wrapped his fist around Ben’s cock;
Ben cried out, his cock jerking in Alec’s hand. So sensitive. And Alec began to ‘scrub’
Ben with his cock⁠—if you could call it scrubbing, when his cock was smooth and
velvety all over. Maybe the edge of his tip was doing the cleaning. Good enough.
Alec pumped in deep, then pulled out completely, checking the groove around his head
for any come. He found nothing.
He slid it back inside, and Ben wheezed.
“Harder,” Ben gasped.
Alec swore, his cock throbbing. He slammed it into Ben this time. Ben cried out,
scrabbling against the bathtub, his cock flushing a dark red like it might go off any
moment.
Something yanked behind Alec’s stomach. Need surged through his body and made his
teeth ache, it made his cock pulse. His nerves thrummed. He couldn’t think anymore.
Same as last night.
“I⁠—I’m in a rut,” he panted, clenching his fists. Ben’s cock jerked against his palm.
“Again?” Ben yelped.
“Looks like it,” Alec growled. His cock had grown so hard, it hurt, and it needed to
unload into Ben. Every last drop of his come. “Need to pull out.”
“But⁠—But you haven’t finished washing inside me,” Ben whimpered. He squeezed
around Alec, a decadent pressure that eroded Alec’s self-control.
“Fuck, Benny,” Alec snarled, his hips snapping. His cock shoved deep; Ben moaned.
And Alec couldn’t help thrusting into his warmth, savoring the pleasure that Ben’s
body wrought in his veins.
He forced himself to pull out, to see if he’d found any of the come from last night.
Still nothing.
Ben closed his small hand around Alec, angling him back toward his hole. The contact
sent a frisson of pleasure through Alec; he groaned, grasping Ben’s hand, thrusting
roughly into his fist. The way he really needed to fuck.
Ben’s musk thickened around them; his pupils blew wide. “Alec,” he choked, his hole
squeezing, his cock turning a darker red. “I⁠—I need.”
“I can’t,” Alec muttered, even though he wanted to. He wanted to be buried deep inside
his omega, he wanted to feel Ben’s body begging for his come. Ben’s hole would suck so
sweetly around him, like they were a perfect fit.
“Please,” Ben whispered. “Just a bit more. A minute. Please.”
He nudged Alec’s tip toward his glistening hole. Alec let himself be swayed. “Half a
minute,” he rasped.
His tip caught against Ben’s entrance and he snapped his hips, slamming in all the way.
Pleasure sluiced through his body. Ben cried out. Alec covered Ben’s mouth and fucked
in again, something in his chest roaring at Ben’s little gasps, the helpless whimpers and
choked-off moans he gave every time Alec thrust deep inside him.
Ben’s thighs began to tremble; Alec felt himself grow closer. He thrust in another time
just to see Ben jerk against him, just to hear another of Ben’s desperate gasps. Then he
fucked in again. Just one more time. And another. And he was drunk on the sight of
Ben taking his cock, Ben’s chest heaving, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut
with pleasure.
“Ben,” Alec growled, his cock aching. His hips were on auto-pilot, snapping forward,
burying his cock all the way. So Ben could feel how much Alec wanted him.
“More,” Ben gasped, clawing against the tub. His neck was flushed, and his cock
throbbed in Alec’s hand. Alec’s need spiked.
He hit the edge a second before he could react. Alec yanked himself out just as his cock
pulsed. Through the pleasure, he glimpsed a streak of pearly fluid on Ben’s hole,
halfway trickling out, as though... some of it had been left inside.
Possessiveness and dismay warred in his chest. He wanted the rest of his come in there,
and yet he knew he shouldn’t.
Alec panted as the rest of his release rippled through his body. His come splattered
onto Ben’s sweater, his thighs, his balls. Ben dug his nails into Alec’s sides, whimpering.
“Alec. Alec, please.”
Alec leaned in, taking Ben’s cock back into his hand. Ben writhed, and Alec pushed his
fingers into Ben’s hole, trying to see if he could scoop out whatever he’d left in there.
Ben arched and cried out, his body clenching tight around Alec, his cock jerking as he
climaxed, jet after jet of his come streaking across his sweater. Alec swallowed hard,
leaning to kiss Ben through his release. He covered Ben’s face with kisses, scooped Ben
against his chest, and held him, nuzzling Ben until he stopped panting.
“I... kind of have bad news,” Alec said, his stomach twisting. He curled his fingers
inside Ben and tried to scoop out the droplets of his come, but there was only clear fluid
on his fingers when they emerged. “Might’ve left a bit of come inside you. I couldn’t
pull out fast enough.”
He wanted to kick himself. He’d promised to help Ben. Instead, he’d just gone and
fucked it all up even more.
His throat tight with anger, Alec looked up, almost afraid to meet Ben’s eyes.
Ben sucked in a long, slow breath. Alec couldn’t breathe. He expected Ben to push him
away, to tell him he’d fucked up. But Ben sighed and pressed his face against Alec’s
chest, his breath puffing hot against Alec’s skin.
“It’s fine,” Ben said. “It was my fault, too. I didn’t want you to stop.” And then he
blushed.
“Probably should’ve just used a carrot,” Alec muttered. “Thought I saw one in the
fridge.”
“Maybe it’s fated to happen,” Ben mumbled. He looked dismayed, too, but not quite as
much as what Alec felt toward himself.
“We can try the funnel,” Alec said guiltily. “My come didn’t go so deep this time. If we
rinse you out again...”
Ben shook his head. “I think what we have might be enough. Or... or if I get pregnant,
maybe... maybe that’s okay.”
Ben tucked himself against Alec’s chest, small and vulnerable, and Alec couldn’t help
but hold him tight. “You want the baby?” he asked, unsure if he really wanted to hear
the answer.
Ben looked down, nodding. “I just... can’t afford it.”
That was something Alec could help him with. Alec had money. If giving it all to Ben
would solve Ben’s problems, he would do it in a heartbeat. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll get you a
credit card on my account.”
Ben’s gaze flew up to meet his. “You can’t possibly⁠—”
“I can, and I will.” Despite the uncertainty building in his chest, despite how much
having a baby scared Alec, he liked the idea of having a permanent connection to Ben.
An excuse to see Ben whenever.
“You need to think about it first,” Ben said. “That’s... a lot to promise.”
Just to please him, Alec said, “I’ll think about it.” But he’d already made up his mind.
“Okay.” The tips of Ben’s ears turned pink. He smiled to himself, and something hot
swelled in Alec’s chest, something large and powerful, something he didn’t have words
for.
He kissed Ben instead. “Sit,” he rumbled, brushing his wrists across Ben’s shoulders,
and along his jaw. “I’ll go make some breakfast. What about steak?”
Ben lit up, looking incredulous. “Steak? For breakfast?”
“It’s in the fridge. May as well eat it.” Alec dropped his hand to Ben’s belly, almost
hesitant to touch him there. “If⁠—If you get pregnant, you’ll need all the nutrition,
right?”
Ben blushed harder, a smile curving his lips. Alec couldn’t help but kiss him again.
The chances of Ben getting pregnant were growing by the hour. This wasn’t a
relationship that their family would accept. But trapped in this little cabin, with no one
any the wiser... Alec finally had the chance to kiss Ben like he always wanted to.
He almost wished⁠—that they could carry on like this forever.
⁠
B EN SIGHED TO HIMSELF , pulling on a clean sweater. Alec had missed the scars. That
was a good thing.
He folded up the cuffs so they wouldn’t dip into the dishwater later⁠—better to have the
sleeves rolled up to the right length, than trying to shove them up, and going too far.
He didn’t usually bother, but with Alec so close... The less Alec saw of Ben’s past with
William, the better.
He hurried out of the bedroom when he was done, to check on Izzy. Izzy was sitting at
the kitchen table with Alec, a picture book open between them.
“See, the dragon is actually the good guy,” Izzy said, pointing out his favorite purple
dragon. “And then he becomes friends with the knight. Except the knight knows that if
he goes home without killing the dragon, his king will be angry.”
Alec winced, leaning closer. “Oh, no. What happens next?”
“There’s explosions!” Izzy beamed. He turned the page, and Ben glimpsed Alec’s eyes
darting back and forth over the text, reading the story. He really had become invested
in it, instead of just humoring Ben’s son.
“So they hatch a plan,” Alec said.
“Uh-huh. They promise each other to keep their friendship a secret.”
“Oh yeah?” Alec’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “How?”
“Here!” Izzy pointed at the fireballs on the next page. “They burn lots of things and
shout a lot so the villagers think they’re fighting. Then the dragon goes to hide in the
fire, and the knight takes the dragon’s precious jewels to the village to show them that
he killed the dragon.”
“But won’t they smell a rat?” Alec asked. “What if they go to look at the dragon’s
hideout?”
Izzy beamed. “That’s part of the secret! You see, they moved the dragon’s things to a
new home.”
Ben didn’t have to look to know that, on the next page, there were illustrations of both
knight and dragon moving bits and pieces of the dragon’s hoard to a new cave, one that
the knight had helped to hollow out.
Izzy flipped the page. “But they were sneaky about it, they left some stuff behind so the
villagers think the dragon’s really gone.”
Alec gave a low whistle. “That’s clever.”
“So whenever there’s a full moon, the knight goes to visit the dragon,” Izzy said,
turning the page again. “And the dragon takes him out to go flying.”
“That sounds... really brotherly.” Alec paused, chewing on his lip.
That was close to what Ben had thought⁠—that if the dragon and the human were
lovers, it would’ve been a really romantic thing for them to do.
“And then,” Izzy said in a dramatic whisper. “Someone sees them.”
Ben’s heart sank. It was a children’s book, but still.
“No shit.” Alec reached for the next page. “What happens next?”
Izzy sighed. “The king gets mad at the knight. He makes the knight go to court. And
everyone points fingers at him because he lied to them.”
Suddenly, that really reminded Ben of his relationship with Alec. More so now, because
they’d established their bond⁠—and probably a life in his belly. There would be no
storybook ending for them, would there? Ben’s heart hurt when he thought about it.
“Is breakfast ready?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen.
Alec frowned, turning the page. “Yeah. I have the steak and eggs on the stove⁠—just
wanted you to get here first, or your breakfast will get cold.”
Ben blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“I want to.” Alec left Izzy at the table, crossing the kitchen to pull Ben into a hug. “Feel
okay?”
Ben nodded, shivering under his attention. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Alec kissed him on the lips, and Ben blushed again.
He couldn’t forget what had happened earlier. The way Alec had showered him with
kisses. The way Alec had looked into his eyes, at the same time he’d slid into Ben’s
body. It had all been so intimate, and maybe... Ben liked having something of Alec’s
inside him. Not just his cock or his come, but also... Alec’s baby. His heart fluttered.
“But aren’t you going to finish reading the story?” Ben asked, feeling a little
embarrassed. Now Alec knew he’d been eavesdropping.
Alec looked back at Izzy, who was watching them intently. “I was thinking of
borrowing Izzy’s book later to finish reading. Is that okay?”
Izzy thought about it. “What if you read it to me? With the different voices for
everyone.”
Alec glanced at Izzy, then Ben. “Does your dad do that for you?”
Izzy nodded. And now Alec was grinning, nudging Ben. “I want to listen to you read,
too.”
Ben flushed. Reading to Izzy was one thing, but doing all his funny voices in front of
Alec? “You’re the one who’s supposed to read it!”
“You can both do the voices,” Izzy said, beaming.
Ben sighed, fond and exasperated. Alec only grinned. “I’ll be the dragon,” Alec said.
“And you can be the knight.”
“Is that because you want to take me on a ride?” Ben asked.
Alec’s smile grew into something half-wicked, half-hopeful. Ben broke into a coughing
fit, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to ask that.
Except Alec pulled Ben against himself, murmuring in his ear, “Sure, I’ll take you on a
good, long ride. Tell me how fast or slow.”
Ben spluttered. “That’s⁠—not appropriate.”
Alec leaned away to look him in the eye. “Should I stop?”
“Well... no.” Ben blushed.
Alec looked relieved. “What if I asked you again tonight?”
For another ride? Ben gulped. “Um. Maybe. Breakfast first. Don’t forget.”
Alec laughed. “I won’t.”
With one arm around Ben’s waist, Alec turned back to the stove, finishing up their
breakfast. He made a pan of the fluffiest omelettes, and steak sizzled in the other pan.
Ben could almost taste the meat, all rich and decadent. It had been a long time since
he’d had an expensive cut of beef. And never a whole steak to himself⁠—it was always
split between him and Mom and Gran, or, before that, with Alec, Mom, and Dad.
“How do you like your meat?” Alec asked. His lips twitched.
Ben wanted to hide his face; Alec already knew. “Alec!”
“Don’t tell me you like it rock-hard, ‘cuz that’s the worst way to have a steak,” Alec
said.
Ben choked on his laugh. “Okay, not rock-hard.”
Alec squeezed his hip. “They’re a little past rare right now. I hope it’s fine.”
“Medium-rare is my favorite,” Ben said. “It’s so tender that way.”
Alec smiled and nudged the steaks around with his tongs. Then he got some plates out,
and dished some omelette for Izzy. “Want some steak, too?”
Izzy nodded, craning his neck to look at the sizzling meat. “I’ve never had steak before.
What’s it taste like?”
“It’s meaty and good,” Alec said. “I’ll slice some for you when it’s done.”
Ben squirmed. Not being able to treat Izzy to good food once in a while⁠—that reflected
poorly on him as a dad, didn’t it? Self-conscious, he squirmed out of Alec’s arms, trying
not to pull out his phone. Except now he itched to check his messages, to make sure the
bakery was fine.
While Alec chatted with Izzy, Ben turned away, sneaking a peek at his messages. His
phone was all scratched-up, and the home button only worked sometimes. He’d meant
to trim off the bits of tape that were curling up, but he hadn’t gotten around to doing it.
Someone’s hot breath puffed on his ear. “When we get back to Meadowfall, I’ll get you
a new one,” Alec said.
Ben jumped and flushed, pressing his phone against his stomach. So Alec couldn’t see
what bad shape it was in.
“Your screen’s cracked.” Alec looked over Ben’s shoulder. Then he wrapped his arm
around Ben and closed his hand over the phone, tilting it back to examine its screen.
“It’s still working.” Ben’s face grew hot. He’d grown used to the wonky, uneven edges
of the display, where the pixels were no longer functioning.
“I’ll get you a new one anyway.” Alec kissed his ear. “As an apology.”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Ben turned. Alec dropped a kiss on his lips.
“For the messed-up funnel-washing. And last night. And we’re secret boyfriends,
remember?” Alec cracked a smile. “It means I get to spoil you.”
No other alpha had done that for Ben. Ben chewed on his lip, still disbelieving. “Phones
aren’t exactly what you give people if you, um.” He glanced at his belly.
Alec smiled wryly. “The phone is just the start of it.”
But phones were already expensive. Incredulous, Ben met his eyes. “You don’t have
to,” he said again.
“I want to.” Alec lowered his face close to Ben’s, just looking into his eyes. “Let me
help.”
Ben squirmed. Should he? What if he grew dependent on Alec? Except... it had been so
long since he’d had someone he could lean on. “Let me think about it,” he said
eventually.
“Good enough,” Alec whispered, kissing him. “C’mon, breakfast is ready. Sit down.”
Alec made them wait a while longer while the steaks rested. As he brought a plate of
cubed meat over to Izzy, Izzy frowned. “Is that blood?”
“It’s meat juices,” Alec said. “That happens when the steak is medium-rare.”
“It still looks like blood.” Izzy seemed uncertain; Alec ruffled his hair.
“Tell you what, I’ll get you the pieces that are the most cooked,” Alec said. “You’ll have
to chew harder on them, though.”
“Okay.” Izzy looked relieved, and then happy, when Alec gave him some of the end
pieces of the steak. Those were more cooked than the rest.
“But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Alec said. “The pink parts are softer.”
Izzy nodded, jabbing his fork into a cube of beef. Ben’s heart warmed. After William’s
mistreatment, after Izzy had grown uncertain of Alec’s growling, it felt like a weight
lifted from his chest whenever Izzy relaxed around Alec.
“What’re you smiling about?” Alec asked, setting a full plate in front of Ben. He set his
own plate down, too, and pulled his chair closer.
“Nothing.” Ben shivered when Alec sat next to him, setting his palm on Ben’s thigh.
That was more intimate than dinner last night⁠—that conversation had been awkward.
Alec had sat across from Ben and Izzy, and they’d talked about the wedding. Not
themselves.
And now Alec was stroking Ben’s thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world,
his warmth soaking through the fabric. I could get used to this, Ben thought.
“Well?” Alec gave him a pointed look. “Aren’t you going to taste it?”
“I was waiting for you,” Ben admitted.
Alec’s intent gaze warmed him to his core. Instead of answering, Alec reached over
with his knife and fork, slicing Ben’s steak into bite-sized chunks.
Ben nudged his hands away. “I can do that by myself, Alec.”
Alec smiled. Then he held up a cube of meat to Ben’s lips. Ben flushed. People only did
this in movies.
“This isn’t a movie,” he said.
Alec tapped the meat against Ben’s lower lip. “Does that mean you aren’t eating my
meat?”
Ben choked. “Alec!”
“What’s wrong with eating the meat?” Izzy asked, looking confused.
Ben wanted to crawl under the table. In William’s household, there weren’t ever many
innuendos thrown around. So Ben wasn’t equipped with a response, especially not to
something like this.
“It’s an adult thing,” Alec said, grinning at Izzy. “You’ll understand when you get
older.”
Izzy frowned. “Why not now?”
Ben glanced at Alec, who shrugged. “You’re his dad,” Alec said. “How do you answer
this?”
Ben shook his head exasperatedly. “I’ve never had to!”
And then Alec looked thoughtful. “Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t,” he
murmured, sliding his arm around Ben’s waist. “It means I’m your first.”
Ben’s insides tingled. “That’s... inappropriate breakfast conversation,” he mumbled.
“Not if we’re keeping it clean,” Alec whispered. As though he could ever keep Ben’s
thoughts clean.
“You haven’t answered my question, Daddy,” Izzy said, wriggling. “What’s wrong
with the meat?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ben said, trying not to think about Alec’s meat. “Uncle Alec’s
making a joke, but it’s not very funny.”
“Fine.” Alec grinned.
Izzy bit into his steak cube, frowning. “It’s chewy. I don’t think I like it.”
“That’s a well-done piece,” Alec said. “The pink ones tend to be softer. Here.”
He sliced up some of his own steak, took the well-done cubes off Izzy’s plate, and
replaced them with medium-rare pieces. Izzy looked doubtfully at them.
“Try it,” Ben told him. “They won’t hurt you.”
Warily, Izzy bit into a cube. Then delight lit his face, and Ben’s heart lifted. “Mmm, I
want steak forever,” Izzy said, smiling goofily.
Not that Ben could afford to buy him steak every day, but at least Izzy had found
another food he really enjoyed. “Here, have some of mine back,” Ben told Alec, slicing
into his steak. “Hang on, let me just⁠—”
“Nah, keep it,” Alec said.
Ben frowned. “But you just gave Izzy some, and...”
“That’s it, it was a gift.” Alec cracked a smile. “I don’t expect anything in return.”
Ben’s heart fluttered. An alpha could give any omega some delicious food, but for him
to give that to a child who wasn’t his own? Alec was more perfect than Ben had thought
he’d be. Alec would be such an amazing father. Someone that Ben really, really wanted
to have as his bondmate. He struggled to breathe through the tightness in his chest. “I
should make up for it. You need more food than I do⁠—”
With his fork, Alec picked a piece of meat off his plate, bringing it to Ben’s mouth.
“Here.”
“But...”
Alec ran the bumpy surface of the steak along Ben’s lower lip, leaving a trail of juices on
his skin. It smelled savory, meaty, and there was a bit of pink sandwiched by the seared
outsides of the steak. The scent alone weakened Ben’s protests.
With a gulp, he took the meat into his mouth. The flavor of perfectly-cooked beef
exploded across his tongue⁠—iron-rich with a hint of salt and pepper, and the steak all
but melted when he chewed. He closed his eyes and savored it, and he might’ve
moaned.
Alec tightened his grip around Ben’s waist. “You like it, huh?”
Ben nodded, only opening his eyes when the morsel was gone. There was another on
Alec’s fork, right in front of Ben’s lips, and Ben couldn’t help closing his mouth around
it.
“Daddy,” Izzy protested, covering his eyes. But he peeked through a crack in his
fingers.
“I could feed you like this all day,” Alec whispered in Ben’s ear.
It wasn’t sexual, not really, but maybe they shouldn’t be doing this in front of Izzy. Ben
blushed, nudging Alec off. “Don’t,” he croaked. “Izzy’s watching.”
“Fine,” Alec rumbled. He smiled and started on his breakfast, but the only time he
released Ben’s waist was when he had to slice up more beef. He chatted with Izzy about
the purple dragon, pulling Ben closer and stroking his side. For the first time in years,
Ben felt as though... he had an alpha again. And that maybe Alec could join Ben and
Izzy’s family. Just for a while.
It seemed so impossible, but it made Ben’s heart skip.
When they were done with breakfast, Ben brought the dishes to the sink. Alec followed
him. “I can do the dishes,” Alec said.
Ben frowned. “You already made breakfast.”
“I want to do everything for you.” Alec kissed Ben’s ear, wrapping his arms around
Ben’s waist. His warmth soaked through their clothes and into Ben’s skin, and it was
enough to distract Ben from the task at hand. Then Alec sucked on the shell of his ear,
slipping his fingers under Ben’s sweater. As though he was going to lift Ben’s
waistband and touch inside his pants.
Ben’s insides grew hot. “Alec,” he yelped, the bucket slipping from his fingers. Warm
water splashed off the plates and onto Ben, soaking into his clothes.
Alec grasped the bucket, helping Ben steady it. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ben said. But the sink was flooded now, and he had to reach into the greasy
water to drain it.
“Here, let me roll up your sleeves,” Alec murmured, reaching down.
Ben froze, his insides turning into ice. He’ll see the scars. “Alec, no⁠—”
But Alec tugged on the sleeve anyway, up and over the silvery, blotchy marks that
stretched up from Ben’s elbow. Alec froze. Then he dragged the sleeve up further, as
though he wanted to see where the scars ended.
The thing was, there wasn’t any end to those scars, not on Ben’s arms.
Alec sucked in a slow, deep breath, his entire body tensing. “Ben?”
And there was no mistaking the horror in his voice, the weight of his gaze as he stared
at the ugliest parts of Ben’s past.
⁠
A LEC SAW . He knows.
Ben wanted to curl into himself, and never look at Alec again. He couldn’t imagine how
Alec must’ve felt⁠—horrified, disgusted, completely turned off by how used and broken
Ben was.
The scars spanned both his arms and some of his back⁠—round cigarette burns, lash
wounds, stabs from a steak knife, some bites that had gone through skin and into flesh,
almost ripping it off. The wounds had healed. But they’d left these permanent markings
on Ben, awful red blotches and some silvery skin, and Ben hadn’t thought he’d need to
cover his arms with foundation. He wished he had.
He felt ugly. He remembered feeling helpless when William beat him, he remembered
looking at himself in the mirror, wondering how anyone could possibly look at those
scars, and feel love.
At least William had left most of his body alone. I want something nice-looking to fuck,
William had said. So the wounds had all been on Ben’s arms, to threaten and control
him. The rest of Ben’s body was mostly untouched, save for a few thin, hairline slashes
on his sides, his chest, his thighs. Alec had missed those.
His cheeks burning, Ben stepped away, wiping his hands on his pants. Alec will judge me
now. That made his insides tighten. His heart pounded. He couldn’t focus. Important
things first. Izzy. Izzy is in the bathroom. That’s good.
“Ben?” Alec growled.
Ben tensed, his muscles pulling so tight, they hurt. “I-I need to go.”
There wasn’t anywhere to run. But Ben needed to leave, and the front door was his only
hope of escape. So he hurried to it, throwing it open. It was dim in the snow tunnel,
spots of light shining through the ventilation holes.
But the tunnel didn’t head away from the cabin. It wouldn’t take him far. Ben made
himself walk right into the snow tunnel wall. Maybe if he tried walking hard enough,
he’d carve a way through the snow. To somewhere Alec wouldn’t see him.
Except the snow had grown packed and hard, and it felt like he’d smashed right into a
jagged wall. Pain thudded through his body. Ben whimpered, hurting all over. Can’t
walk through the snow. Maybe he’d try the tunnel instead.
As he turned, Alec caught up to him, grabbing him around the waist. “Nails there,”
Alec growled. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.”
Ben thrashed, his throat filling with panic. Alec will judge me. He couldn’t breathe. “Alec,
please.”
Alec held on tight. “Don’t go,” he whispered in Ben’s ear.
Ben trembled. He didn’t know what to do. How he could face Alec again, when Alec
had seen some of the abuse Ben had been through? When he knew Ben had been too
weak to protect himself? Ben ducked his head, tears of shame burning his eyes. Why
was Alec still touching him? Why wasn’t he looking for another omega?
“Ben, I’m sorry,” Alec whispered, his voice rough. “Benny.”
That nickname tugged at something deep in his chest. Ben shook his head, trying to
shrink into himself. “Look for someone else, Alec. I’m not⁠—I’m not... worthy.” I’m not
worthy of your love.
Except Alec didn’t release him. Alec brushed his fingers through Ben’s hair, his breath
hot on Ben’s ear. Then he closed his hand around Ben’s arm, right over the scars. Ben
whimpered, trying to jerk away.
“Whoever did this to you,” Alec growled. “I’m gonna kill them.”
Ben froze in surprise, his heart stumbling. Tears dripped down his cheeks. Alec... didn’t
mind the scars? “But⁠—But...” If Alec hurt William, wouldn’t he go to jail? “You’re not
supposed to.”
A low, ferocious growl erupted from Alec’s chest. “Whoever hurts my omega, I’m
gonna get even with them.”
And he dragged his wrist down Ben’s front, marking him there. Marking Ben as his.
Ben sucked in a sharp breath, sniffling. Alec still wants me? “You⁠—You shouldn’t.”
Alec spun him around, his fierce gaze boring into Ben. “I shouldn’t what?”
“All of it,” Ben cried, afraid and disbelieving. “You shouldn’t hurt William. You
shouldn’t touch me. You shouldn’t want me as your omega!”
But Alec’s fury only seemed to grow. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m ugly now.” Ben shrank back, horribly afraid that Alec would believe him,
and leave. Alec paused, his chest heaving, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, Ben
thought Alec would step away.
Alec cupped Ben’s face in his hands. He brushed Ben’s tears away. Then he leaned in
and sealed their lips together, and Ben’s heart felt like it might burst. “Why⁠—”
“You’re not ugly,” Alec whispered against his lips. “You’re beautiful, and you’re damn
fucking strong. Don’t ever say you’re not worthy again.”
Ben swayed on his feet, unable to believe his ears. “But⁠—But the scars...”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to smash his skull in. I’m sorry I left you for so long.” When
Alec pulled back, his eyes glittered with tears. “I’m sorry,” Alec whispered, holding Ben
tight against himself. “I’ve been an asshole of an alpha.”
Ben shook his head. That was the last thing he expected Alec to say. “No, you’re not.”
“If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have gotten so hurt,” Alec hissed. “I left you in the
hands of a monster, Benny. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He pressed their foreheads together, and Ben almost thought he saw Alec’s heart break.
“I’m sorry I left,” Alec whispered. “I’m sorry about everything.”
He looked so furious with himself, that Ben’s heart hurt for him. He wiped the wetness
off Alec’s cheeks and cradled his warm jaw. “I don’t blame you for leaving,” Ben said.
“That’s your choice.”
“It was the wrong one.” Alec released him, slamming his fist against the cabin wall.
Over and over, he punched the logs, a low growl building in his chest. “I should’ve
been there. I shouldn’t have let you suffer. Gods damn it!”
He punched the wall so hard, that for a moment, Ben thought Alec might’ve shattered
his knuckles. “Alec, no.” Ben scrambled forward, grasping Alec’s fist, covering it with
his own hands so Alec wouldn’t try to punch anything again. “Please, Alec. Stop.”
The momentum of Alec’s fist dragged Ben toward the wall; Alec pulled back, so Ben
wouldn’t smash into it.
Then he sucked in a shuddering breath, the fury and darkness in his eyes almost
frightening to behold. “Let go, Ben.”
And let him hurt himself? Ben shook his head, holding on tighter. “No.”
Ben tucked himself between Alec and the wall, so Alec wouldn’t try to punch it again.
Then he brought Alec’s fist to his mouth, kissing the grazed red spots on his knuckles.
Alec was enraged. Because William had hurt Ben. He wasn’t judging Ben for the scars at
all. And Ben wanted Alec to calm down⁠—William wasn’t worth Alec getting hurt, or
going to jail.
“It’s okay,” Ben whispered. “I’m fine now. It’s all in the past.”
Alec clenched his fists, his nostrils flared. “I can’t forgive him.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Ben stroked Alec’s face, trying to distract him. He’d never seen
Alec so devastated. Alec wasn’t the one who broke⁠—Ben was. Ben was weaker, and
Alec had always been the stronger of them. “It’s my own fault for getting involved with
William. It’s not something you could’ve known.”
Alec glared. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I wasn’t there for you. You can’t forgive
me.”
“I do. I forgive you,” Ben whispered, his heart thumping for his alpha. “I’ve never
blamed you for it. You’ve always been perfect to me, Alec.”
“You shouldn’t think that.” As Ben caressed him, Alec relaxed a little, the tension
fading from his shoulders. He bowed his head, regret shadowing his eyes. He looked so
much like the boy from Ben’s past, that Ben pulled him closer, cradling his face.
“Alec,” he murmured. “It’s fine. It really is. It’s been years since the divorce. And I’m
still alive.”
“Small mercies,” Alec croaked. He unclenched his fists and hugged Ben tight, wrapping
himself around Ben as though he could protect Ben with his body alone.
Ben tucked himself against his alpha, feeling Alec’s fury and disappointment and
shame. He pressed kisses all over Alec’s chest, his arms⁠—wherever he could reach. Just
to show Alec that he truly harbored no resentment.
“Tell me how I can fix it,” Alec said.
“Move on from it. Forgive yourself.” Ben tiptoed and kissed his jaw. “Let’s not think
about it.”
For a long moment, Alec just breathed. He gazed into Ben’s eyes, and tucked Ben’s hair
behind his ears. “It’s really okay,” Ben told him. “I want you to be happy.” Alec’s
mouth twitched, ever so slightly. And they stood in each other’s arms, sharing a breath.
“I should’ve tried harder,” Alec murmured. “I didn’t know that you⁠—that you liked
me, too. Dad told me I shouldn’t touch you and I just... I should’ve just ignored him.”
“Dad told you that?” Ben’s heart sank. He loved their father⁠—they both did. So
knowing that Dad wouldn’t approve of this relationship... it didn’t help.
“Well.” Alec looked uncomfortable. “He threatened me, more like. I don’t want to say it
because it makes him look bad, but... it’s what happened.”
Ben’s heart sank. Why didn’t you tell me? “He threatened you?”
Alec glanced away. “With his belt.” Then he touched his hip, and hesitated. “You might
see the scars if you look closely.”
Ben’s stomach tightened. There were scars? Dad had hurt Alec that badly? “How did I
miss them? Show me.”
Alec cracked a smile. “They’re on my ass.”
Ben almost thought about pulling down Alec’s pants for a peek, but Izzy stepped out of
the bathroom right then. “Bedroom,” Ben said. “I need to see this.”
Alec’s smile grew; his self-recrimination faded a little. “That’s how it goes, huh? Dad
gives me a beating to keep me away from you, and you want to look at the scars from
that. Seems kind of counterproductive.”
Filled with a new sort of determination, Ben took Alec’s hand, marching to the bedroom
where Alec had stored his things. Izzy watched them, fiddling with his phone. “I was
just talking to Caleb,” he said. “Caleb says all alphas have a snake. Do you have a
snake, Uncle Alec?”
Alec flushed. “Ask your dad.”
“Me?” Ben glanced at them. Why was Alec blushing over a snake?
Except he remembered a tiny seven-year-old with glasses in his bakery, talking about
snakes all the time. Caleb’s parents had been flustered.
“Trouser snake,” Alec muttered.
“Oh.” Ben’s thoughts dipped into Alec’s pants; his face grew hot. “It looks like Uncle
Alec and I will have to search for a snake,” he told Izzy. “We’ll be busy for a bit, hon.
Knock if there’s an emergency, okay? I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” Izzy said, looking curiously after them.
Ben closed the door, and quietly locked it. “The scars,” he said to remind both of them.
Not snakes. Not right now, at least.
“You’re... sure about this,” Alec said, searching Ben’s face. “I should’ve done better as
your alpha.”
Ben tiptoed, cupped Alec’s face, and kissed him softly on the lips. Because Alec wanted
him. Because Alec had always wanted him, even if he’d been hurt for it. “You did what
you thought was right,” Ben whispered. “I don’t want you to think you’ve failed me.”
Alec’s lower lip trembled. He slipped his fingers into Ben’s hair and drew him closer,
pulling him into a deep kiss.
“You’re my most important person in the world,” Alec whispered. “You have always
been. I’ve never told you that.”
Ben’s throat grew tight. He let Alec claim his mouth, savoring the smooth slide of Alec’s
tongue darting past his lips, dipping into him. Alec tasted like coffee and steak, and his
entrance this time was slow, languid, their tongues sliding together. It was an intimate
touch, a touch that said, I’m glad you’re here. Ben’s heart swelled.
“Alpha,” he whispered.
Alec’s gaze grew intent. He cupped Ben’s jaw, stroking Ben’s cheek with his thumb.
Then he pressed another kiss to Ben’s lips, and another, each touch sending a thrum of
pleasure down Ben’s spine.
“You wanted to see my scars,” Alec murmured.
Ben nodded, glancing at Alec’s hips. “Do I...?”
Alec’s mouth quirked into a self-deprecating smile. “Do whatever you want, Benny. If
you’ll have me... I’m all yours.”
Instead of arousal, Ben felt like crying. Despite Ben’s scars, Alec really did want to stick
around. With trembling hands, he reached down, gently touching Alec’s hips. Alec
turned his back toward the lamp; Ben reached under Alec’s sweater, easing his
waistband down past the firm curves of his ass.
Ben had never done this before⁠—touching Alec here, undressing him to look at his skin.
Alec glanced over his shoulder when Ben paused; Ben blushed. “Sorry. I’m just...” He
sucked in a deep breath, lifting the hem of Alec’s sweater.
To say Alec’s ass was glorious would be to make an understatement. It was muscular,
firm, bronzed, as though Alec had worked out in the sun. “You have a tan here,” Ben
said. “You used to be paler.”
Alec smiled sheepishly. “I was being kinda vain. I went to a nude beach to work out a
few weeks back. Did it work? Do you like it?”
That tickled something in Ben’s chest. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t that be your
decision?”
“You’re the one looking at my butt,” Alec murmured. “What does it make you feel?”
Hot. Awed. Amazed. Everything. Ben wet his lips, a little nervous. Look for his scars.
Don’t forget. “You look good.” He sank to his knees, carefully touching his fingertips to
Alec’s skin. Alec smelled like musk and teak. Ben followed the contours of his muscles,
tracing over smooth skin, to where two faint, silvery lines stretched across each of his
cheeks.
Ben stopped breathing. He’d missed them yesterday, when he’d accidentally ripped
Alec’s towel off his waist. From afar, Alec’s ass had looked perfect. But up close, the
silvery lines didn’t fade when he rubbed his thumb over them. Ben’s heart sank. “I
didn’t know that a belt could give you scars.”
How much had Alec been hurting? How badly had Dad beaten him, for him to get
these? Ben had been beaten a few times, too, but he’d only received welts from those
punishments.
“I’ve thought about it. Must’ve been the edge of the belt.” Alec shrugged. “It wasn’t so
bad.” He couldn’t meet Ben’s eyes, though.
Ben blew out a breath, wishing he could travel into the past, and make everything right.
“You couldn’t sit straight for days, could you?”
Alec shrugged. That was a yes. For Ben not to have noticed... Alec had just gone and
plopped himself down on his hurting butt, and it had to have been so painful. And Ben
never noticed. He begrudged himself for that. “You should’ve told me. Why didn’t
you?”
“Dad made me promise not to.” Alec looked away. “He made me swear that I wouldn’t
ever think of you that way again.”
Ben held his breath. “How did he find out?”
And now Alec’s face turned pink. “He stepped into our bedroom while you were
sleeping. I⁠—I’d bitten your shoulder. And I’d covered your chest with my scent.” His
smile turned wry. “I was so proud of it, too. I should’ve known better. We were
fourteen.”
Ben imagined Alec younger, Alec with his thin chest all puffed up, joy in his eyes and a
smile on his face. To have Dad rip that all away... “Oh, Alec.”
His heart ached. He pressed soft kisses to each of those scars, wrapping his arms
around Alec’s thighs in a loose hug. Then he nuzzled the smooth curve of Alec’s ass,
just breathing him in. “This is what I should’ve done when he beat you.” Ben kissed all
over Alec’s cheeks. He smoothed his thumbs over the scars and nuzzled them, and
pressed his forehead to Alec’s skin. “I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to hurt so much.”
Alec huffed, wrapping his warm hands around Ben’s wrists. “I’m an alpha, Benny. I can
take some damage. It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” Ben kissed a scar again. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve talked to Dad.”
“And let him beat you, too?” Alec narrowed his eyes. “No.”
Alec’s protectiveness warmed Ben to the tips of his toes. He pressed his face against
Alec’s scars, kissing them again. If Dad knew that this was happening, he’d probably
turn in his grave. Ben didn’t want that. But he couldn’t ignore his feelings for Alec,
either. “Where... did you bite me? When Dad found out. I didn’t notice you had.”
“I wasn’t gonna leave something permanent.” Alec pulled his pants back up, covering
his ass. Then he turned and helped Ben to his feet, his expression carefully optimistic.
“Do you want me to show you? The spot I bit. I could, uh...”
Ben’s heart stumbled. “You’ll bite me again?” he croaked. “On⁠—On my shoulder.”
Because that was what bondmates did.
Alec flushed. “I will if you want me to, but not on your scent gland.”
“Oh.” Ben tried to fight his disappointment. If Alec broke his skin, there would be a
scab. And Ben didn’t know how to explain that to Mom or Gran. “That’s⁠—That’s fine.
I’d like you to do it again. The same spot.”
Hope flickered in Alec’s gaze. “Yeah?”
Ben nodded, his heart thumping. Alec’s excitement was contagious. Ben wanted to be
awake when Alec bit him this time, he wanted to pretend that Alec was claiming him
for real.
“We’ll do it in front of the mirror,” Alec murmured, nudging Ben over to a set of
mirrored closet doors. “I want to see your face when I do it.”
“You don’t want me to face you?”

Alec’s mouth twitched. “This was how we were that day.” He slipped his arms around
Ben’s waist, pulling their bodies flush. “We used to sleep like this, remember? Except
we’re the same height in bed.”
Ben remembered. Alec reached up the front of Ben’s sweater, brushing his wrist all over
Ben’s chest⁠—across his nipples, along his clavicles, and then down, to his belly. Even
without sniffing at himself, Ben knew that Alec had rubbed his teak scent all over,
marking Ben as his.
Alec growled, nuzzling Ben’s ear. “Mine.”
Ben’s heart fluttered. He met Alec’s dark gaze through the mirror, Alec’s warmth
soaking into his chest. They had woken up countless times with their limbs tangled,
Alec drooling onto his neck. “You don’t still drool in your sleep, do you?” Ben asked,
smiling.
Alec grinned back. “I swear I’ve stopped.” Then he rubbed his callused fingertips over
Ben’s heart. “Someone’s nervous.”
Ben tried to keep his breathing steady. “That’s because you’re going to bite me.”
To know that Alec had always wanted him⁠—that was one thing. But to know that Alec
would bite him now? To show Ben how he’d marked him in the past? Ben couldn’t
breathe. He wanted so much to belong.
Alec’s gaze darkened. He glanced at Ben’s arm, though. “Thought I saw a bite scar
there. Is it gonna be... okay? If I bite you?” Then he touched Ben’s arm, and hooked his
finger into Ben’s sleeve again. “Can I see them? Please?”
Ben’s breath stuck in his throat; his heart began to thump. “You don’t want to. They
look awful.”
A frown creased Alec’s forehead. “If... If I ask you to take your shirt off, is it going to
make you feel bad?”
Ben had seen his own scars plenty of times. He tried not to pay them too much mind.
Izzy had glimpsed them and not understood so much, but Alec... For a split second, Ben
thought that Alec might start to judge him, if he saw the full extent of the abuse. “You...
have to promise that you’ll still bite me.”
So I can keep pretending that you’ll really be my alpha.

“I promise,” Alec murmured, kissing just beneath Ben’s ear⁠—an intimate spot. Ben’s
heart squeezed tight. Then, with his lungs about to burst, he curled his fingers into the
hem of his sweater, and helped Alec pull it up his chest.
⁠
T HE WOOLEN FABRIC slid up Ben’s back and shoulders, and off his arms. It left stretches
of pale skin uncovered, except the marks on Ben... They were more horrendous than
Alec’s initial glimpse of him.
Some of the scars were grooves carved into his flesh, some were angry red splotches.
Then there were the uneven patches of darker skin, the thin, almost-invisible lines that
looked like Alec’s scars from Dad’s belt.
Each of these scars had been a wound. And they overlapped each other, healed flesh
that had been broken again, over and over. The scars stretched from Ben’s elbows all
the way to his shoulders, and from afar, it would look as though Ben had gotten himself
sleeve tattoos.
Seeing the true extent of that abuse⁠—it made Alec’s stomach twist. Ben had suffered for
so long. Alec had been too much of a coward to speak to him, to realize that Ben had
been in trouble. A boiling mess of rage and disgust welled up in Alec’s chest. “I’ve been
a failure of an alpha,” he hissed, his chest too tight.
“Alec?” Ben asked in a small voice. As though he was afraid that Alec would think less
of him, when he’d lived through all that hurt. He was tougher than Alec, and far more
precious.
Alec pulled Ben close and stroked down his arms, burying the violence in his chest.
“You’re the most perfect omega I’ve ever known,” Alec whispered in his ear. Ben still
looked uncertain. So Alec kissed down his neck and across his shoulder. Then he lifted
Ben’s arm, and kissed all over the scars. “Still beautiful.”
Ben sucked in a sharp breath, tensing. “A-Alec.”
Alec met his eyes in the mirror. “Never felt this way about anyone else.”
Ben’s lower lip trembled; he blinked hard. Alec touched his lip and whispered, “Don’t
cry. You’re gorgeous.” And he brushed his wrists down Ben’s arms, over all the scars.
“You’re mine. All of you.”
It felt so good to say that. To claim Ben as his own, even if Alec couldn’t give him a
bonding mark. He kissed Ben’s ear, wiping away the tears that trickled down Ben’s
cheeks. Alec dropped kisses down Ben’s neck, he kissed all over Ben’s shoulders. It felt
like they were back home, like they were fourteen again. Alec wanted to mark every
inch of Ben as his.
He kissed Ben and held him, until Ben wiped his tears away, calming down.
Then Alec found the spot on Ben’s neck that smelled most strongly of daisy⁠—Ben’s
scent gland. Alec closed his mouth around it. Ben gasped, surprised, his body tensing.
Not with fear, but anticipation. Alec sucked slowly on that sensitive spot, increasing the
pressure until Ben panted and his spine arched, and the bulge in his pants grew thick.
And now there was a hard line in his pants, a very pronounced erection. The fabric at
his tip darkened.
“So lovely,” Alec whispered against Ben’s damp skin. Ben’s nipples hardened; his
pupils dilated. Alec grazed Ben’s scent gland with his teeth, giving him little nips that
made Ben’s hips buck, searching for touch. “So fucking hot.”
“Alec,” Ben whimpered.
Doing this at fourteen had been good, but doing this when they were twenty-six, when
they were hidden away from the rest of the world, when he had every ounce of proof
that Ben wanted him in return⁠—this was incredible. “Ready to be bitten?” Alec
growled, kissing Ben’s shoulder, to a spot a couple inches down.
Ben nodded eagerly, tilting his head to grant Alec access. It was a gesture of
submission, of offering. And Alec wanted to pin him against the wall and claim him
thoroughly. Until Ben cried out and clenched around him, and he creamed all over
himself.
“I want all of you,” Alec growled, pulling Ben’s hips against his own. So Ben could feel
Alec’s growing desire. Ben gasped; his gaze flew to meet Alec’s in the mirror. “You
like?”
Ben moaned, rubbing his sweet ass against Alec’s cock. Alec’s blood surged south.
“What if I knot inside you this time?” he whispered.
The moment that question left his lips, Ben wheezed. Musk billowed off his skin, and
Alec didn’t need another word.
He pressed Ben against the closet door and bit into his shoulder, breaking skin. Ben
jerked, meeting his eyes, his gaze full of disbelief and delight. “Alec,” he groaned.
“Mine, Benny,” Alec growled. It wasn’t a bite on Ben’s scent gland. But Alec had bitten
him, he’d given Ben a marking.
“Yours,” Ben answered, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.
His heart full, Alec kissed the bite mark he’d left on Ben’s skin, admiring it. Tiny
droplets of blood had begun to well up; Alec licked them off. For tonight, for however
long they were stuck here, they were mates.
Ben shoved his hips against Alec, looking pleadingly at him. “Claim me. Please.”
Alec’s throat went dry. He slipped his waistband down, letting his cock jut out. It
hadn’t even been long since the washing in the bathroom. But Ben was still in heat, and
the way he reacted to Alec, the way he reached between them, moaning when Alec
thrust against his palm⁠—Alec wanted to give his omega his entire cock.
“We don’t have a condom,” Alec rasped.
Ben pulled his pants down, just enough to expose his creamy cheeks. And he pushed
Alec’s tip between them, sliding it down that silky crevice. Like he wanted Alec’s bare
cock inside him, like he wanted Alec to mark him with his come. Alec’s breath punched
out of his lungs.
“I don’t think it matters,” Ben whispered, rubbing his hole against Alec’s cock.
Alec choked, struggling to restrain himself. Ben was deliciously wet, his cheeks warm
and damp. Alec bit into Ben’s shoulder, cupping his perfect ass. This time... it wasn’t so
much about Ben’s heat. It wasn’t about washing out Alec’s come.
It was just the two of them, and Alec making Ben his.
“You want me inside,” Alec whispered, grasping Ben’s ass, spreading his cheeks to
expose his hole.
Ben groaned, his musk thickening. Alec’s cock ached for him. But he didn’t want a
quickie. He wanted this to last a little longer. So he fitted his cock between Ben’s cheeks,
letting them squeeze around him.
“You should see this,” Alec whispered. “It’s like I put a sausage in Ben’s Buns.”
Ben choked through his panting, turning to look. “Alec,” he groaned. “That’s not
funny.”
“But you laughed,” Alec murmured. “Here, I’ll take a picture.”
He pulled out his phone, opening its camera app. Then, with his cock wedged snugly
between Ben’s cheeks, Alec leaned back, snapping a picture. It looked good. Sexy. And
Alec realized that he didn’t have his own photos of Ben on his phone⁠—only the ones
he’d found off Facebook. He wanted pictures of them spending time together.
So he brought the phone up, leaned in, and kissed Ben’s ear. “Say ‘Cheese’, I’m taking a
picture.”
Ben frowned. Alec took the picture anyway—a picture of Ben pouting was better than
none. “Are you sure you want pictures of us?” Ben asked. “It’s... risky.”
Alec kissed his neck. “It’ll be fine. I’m not gonna show anyone, I promise.” The picture
of them was a little blurry; Alec figured he’d take a better one later. “Here.” Alec pulled
up the previous photo. “Your buns.”
He leaned in, his cock grinding against Ben’s hole. Ben moaned. “Alec.”
Possessiveness coiled through Alec’s gut; he growled, pushing his cock against Ben’s
entrance, just letting it touch Ben there. “You sound fucking beautiful,” Alec whispered.
“I don’t,” Ben mumbled.
So Alec ground against Ben’s hole, the friction sending a jolt down his spine. Ben
trembled and gasped. Alec slipped his hand down to cup Ben between the legs, giving
him a slow, firm stroke, from his base to his tip. And Ben moaned, his cock jerking
behind his pants. He was so hungry, reacting to the slightest touch.
“That’s what I meant,” Alec murmured, kissing Ben’s ear. His own cock throbbed.
“Look, Benny. A photo of Ben’s Buns.” He held the phone up Ben could see it better.
Ben covered his face. “That’s terrible, Alec.”
Not much else occupied the image—just Ben’s pert ass peeking past his waistband, and
Alec’s flushed cock wedged between his cheeks, a stark contrast.
If Alec ever forgot that this had happened, the picture proved it all.
“What’s so terrible?” Alec growled, grinding against Ben. “It looks perfect. You can
easily see the sausage⁠—it belongs right there between the buns.” For emphasis, he
pushed his cock up between Ben’s cheeks, a slow slide that made Ben shiver.
Ben groaned, his flush spreading down his neck. “It looks so... lewd.”
“But that’s the point.” Alec grinned, tucking his phone away. “It makes you hard,
doesn’t it?”
Ben had no answer to that. Alec couldn’t help the delight swelling in his chest.
“Do you... want a copy of this pic?” Alec whispered in his ear. “So you can jerk off to it,
too?”
Ben’s entire face turned red. “Alec!”
“I won’t send it unless you ask,” Alec whispered, rubbing Ben’s cock through his pants.
“Yes or no, Ben. Simple question.”
Ben looked away, biting his lip. “Yes.”
Alec grinned. He imagined Ben with his phone clutched close, his other hand shoved
down his pants, surreptitiously tugging on his flushed, hungry cock. “You’re gonna do
that as soon as you can, aren’t you? You’ll open that pic, you’re gonna zoom in on my
cock, and you’ll remember how it felt opening you up. Filling you with my come.”
Ben wheezed, his cock straining against Alec’s palm. “I⁠—I’m not!”
Somehow, Alec got the feeling that Ben was lying about that. He couldn’t help smiling.
“How are you gonna touch your cock? Like this?”
He cupped Ben’s delicate balls through his pants, squeezing them lightly. Then he
wrapped his hand around Ben’s cock, peeking over Ben’s shoulder at that bulge. It was
smaller than Alec’s, but damn, was it hard.
“So fucking hot,” Alec whispered.
He slipped his thumb into Ben’s waistband, where the front of his pants had snagged
on his cock. Alec grasped the elastic and pushed down, releasing Ben’s erection. It
sprung up, thick and ravenous, his head pushing out past his foreskin, glistening with
precome.
“Holy damn,” Alec growled, his own cock throbbing.
Ben shoved his cock down with both his hands, hiding it from Alec’s view. He was
adorable.
Alec kissed his cheek. “I’ve seen your pretty cock, Benny. I’ve tasted it. It’s fucking
gorgeous.”
Ben groaned and flushed harder, holding on to it. So Alec kissed his temple, covering
Ben’s hands with his own. “We won’t look at your cock,” Alec murmured, nipping at
his ear. “But when I saw it, it was kinda wet. Think it needs some drying?”
He reached under Ben’s fingers, finding the crinkly elastic of his pants. Then he felt
around and found the velvety base of Ben’s cock. Alec followed it up with the lightest
brush of his fingers, all the way to Ben’s tip. Ben groaned, his cock jerking. “Alec!”
Alec brushed along his smooth foreskin, to his head. Slippery precome coated his
fingertips; he grasped Ben’s skin and pulled down, to expose his entire sensitive tip.
Alec grasped it in his hand, flicking his wrist.
Some of the precome smeared across his skin, leaving Ben’s now-dry tip dragging
against his palm. Ben hissed and arched, his entire body writhing. “F-fuck, Alec!”
Alec smiled, his own cock aching so much, he needed to touch it. But he didn’t want to
release Ben. “Feels good?” he rumbled, flicking his wrist again. Ben’s head grazed his
dry skin; he wheezed and bucked his hips, breathing hard. As though he was close.
“What does it feel like?” Alec whispered, doing it again. Ben thrashed in his arms.
“Like⁠—Like fire,” Ben wheezed, moaning. “It hurts but it also feels so good.”
“What if I do it again?” Alec kissed his neck, dragging his fist up Ben’s cock in a slow,
firm stroke. “Think I can help your pretty cock relax?”
Ben had stopped trying to hide himself. He clung onto Alec’s arms, his nails biting into
Alec’s skin, his hips shoving forward. So Alec angled Ben’s cock down, admiring its
thick length, the way it strained against his touch.
“It’s so red,” Alec whispered. “Like it’s ready to blow.”
He grasped Ben’s cock, taking a moment to feel its sheer desperation. Then Alec gave
him a couple of good, firm tugs, rubbing his own tip against Ben’s hole. “Come for me,
Benny. Come now.”
He covered Ben’s mouth a second before Ben cried out, his entire body tensing, his cock
pulsing as jet after jet of come spurted out of him. Most of it streaked the mirror; Alec
managed to catch some in his palm. He squeezed Ben’s cock, trying to draw his
pleasure out, his own throat growing bone-dry. He’d made Ben come. And Ben had
sounded so good.
“So lovely,” Alec whispered. When Ben sagged limply against his chest, Alec brought
his hand to his mouth, licking off Ben’s come. It was warm and bitter, with a hint of salt
and musk. Alec imagined the pleasure Ben had felt when he’d made that mess. His own
cock pulsed.
“You’re⁠—You’re tasting that,” Ben croaked, utterly boneless.

Alec kissed his temple. “Every last drop. Nothing better than tasting your come, Benny.
I could have it all day, every day. Straight from your spout.” He patted Ben’s cock.
Ben flushed and shook his head exasperatedly. “You’re filthy, Alec Miller.”
“You like me that way.” And he pushed his own cock against Ben’s ass, rubbing against
his hole. “Ready to come again?”
Ben groaned. “I don’t think I have the strength to even stand.”
“That’s okay. I’ll hold you up against the wall.” Alec grinned. “All you have to do is sit
on my cock.”
A smile spread through Ben’s face. “You make it sound so innocent.”
“Sure it is.” Alec winked, rubbing his cock slow and sweet against Ben’s hole. “I’m
just... letting my cock kiss you. Inside and outside.”
Ben groaned. “You call that a kiss?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Alec pushed his slippery tip against Ben, just a slow, deliberate grind.
“Kisses are when a small part of our bodies touch each other, right? Like this?” He
rolled his hips, putting just a bit of pressure against Ben’s hole.
“That’s not a kiss.” Ben flushed, but he shoved himself down, trying to take Alec’s cock
inside.
Just to hear him beg again, Alec pulled his hips away, replacing his cock with his
fingers. Ben whined. And Alec plunged his fingers into Ben, two at once, groaning
when Ben’s tight hole stretched around him, drenching him with slick.
Ben’s spine arched; his mouth fell open. Alec wanted to pull his fingers out and fit his
cock inside. There was nothing like dipping his entire cock into his omega. But he knew
that the moment he did, his restraint would crumble away. And he wanted to make Ben
come again. And again. He wanted Ben to be a trembling mess before he put his cock
inside.
“Here, brace yourself,” Alec whispered. He nudged Ben over to the wall, where it
would hold his weight a little better. Then he pulled Ben’s hips toward himself,
squeezing his pert, smooth cheeks. “Beautiful.”
“You’ve seen a bunch of asses before,” Ben muttered.
“Not really.” Alec squeezed Ben’s cheeks and spread them, and there was Ben’s hole, all
pink and tight, sucking at Alec’s fingers. His cock grew so hard, he had to pump it to
stop it from hurting. “I could come just seeing you like this,” Alec rasped, pressing
down on Ben’s prostate. Ben made a small, choked sound. And Alec massaged him,
over and over, until Ben whimpered and shuddered, his cock leaking again. “Feels
good when I rub there?” Alec growled, desire swelling in his gut.
“I want you inside,” Ben groaned.
“I’m already inside.”
Ben’s flush deepened. “But it’s not...”
“Not what?” Satisfaction filled Alec’s chest; he pulled his fingers out, swirled them
around Ben’s hole, and pushed them back in.
“Not your⁠—” Ben bit down his words, looking away.
Alec grinned. “I don’t know what I should put inside you, Benny. My tongue? My
pinky?”
“The other pink thing,” Ben mumbled.
“My toe?”
“No!”
Alec pushed his fingers all the way in, and Ben wheezed. “Tell me what this makes you
feel,” Alec whispered, kissing Ben’s shoulder. He shoved Ben’s pants further down his
thighs, caught it with his foot, and stepped down, so it pooled around Ben’s ankles,
leaving him completely naked⁠—every inch of him.
Ben whimpered, arching his spine, pushing his ass toward Alec. Another offering.
Possessiveness thumped in Alec’s veins. He growled, dragging his wrists down Ben’s
body, covering him in teak. He marked Ben’s shoulders and arms, he tweaked Ben’s
nipples and scented them, too. Then he brushed his wrist down Ben’s belly, and ground
his scent along every inch of Ben’s cock.
“This is mine,” Alec whispered, grasping that straining length.
Ben moaned, shoving his cock against Alec’s palm. It made Alec smile, knowing how
hungry he made his omega.
“Fuck, Alec,” Ben groaned.
“Fuck where?”
Ben whimpered. “You already know.”

Alec grinned and pulled his fingers out, sitting next to Ben on the floor. “Stand over
me.”
Ben’s expression fell. “But that’s not...”
Alec pumped his cock, angling it down to show Ben its full length. “Are you obeying
me, or not?”
Ben scrambled to obey, straddling Alec, his musky, wet cock jutting up right in front of
Alec’s face. So Alec leaned in and sucked Ben’s entire cock into his mouth. Small, but so
hard. It was heavy on his tongue, slippery and salty.
Ben choked and shuddered, his legs trembling. “A-Alec!”
“Mm.” Alec pushed his fingers back between Ben’s cheeks, plunging into his tight hole.
Ben clenched around him; Alec began stroking, at the same time he sucked on Ben’s
cock, coaxing him toward his next release. Ben gasped; Alec took him deeper, salty
precome coating his tongue.
He sucked on Ben until Ben shook like a leaf above him, until he grasped at Alec’s
shoulders, his knees buckling, his cock as hard as a rock against Alec’s tongue. “Alec,”
Ben whimpered, trembling so much that he’d leaned against the wall, his entire body
spasming.
“Cover your mouth,” Alec growled. Ben obeyed. And Alec shoved his fingers hard
against Ben’s prostate.
Ben screamed, hot come pumping down Alec’s throat.
Alec’s entire body burned; he had to grasp his own cock⁠—Ben made him so painfully
hard. Slick trickled out of Ben’s hole, down Alec’s fingers. He pulled them out and
wiped Ben’s wetness all over his cock. No more waiting. His cock fucking hurt, and it
needed to be inside Ben. To make him scream again.
He caught Ben’s waist, pulling Ben down to sit on his lap. Ben looked dazed, his pupils
blown, his cheeks flushed.
“Feel good?” Alec murmured, kissing his lips.
Ben nodded. Good. Alec stripped off his shirt. Ben’s gaze roved over his body; he loved
the way Alec looked. Pride rumbled in Alec’s chest. All that working out as a
firefighter⁠—it definitely paid off.
“On your back,” he rasped. “Open wide.”

The moment Ben understood, a soft whimper escaped him. He scrambled onto the
floor; Alec wished he’d had the foresight to move a mattress back in.
He shucked off the rest of his clothes. Then he prowled over to where Ben lay open for
him, his legs spread, his hole pink and glistening, his chest heaving with each breath.
“Please,” Ben begged.
Alec barely restrained himself. His cock urged. He leaned in and gave Ben a deep, hard
kiss, plunging into his mouth, tasting him thoroughly. Ben moaned. Alec angled his
cock against Ben’s hole, his tip kissing Ben right where he was wettest. Ben groaned,
and Alec thrust deep. Ben’s body opened around his cock; heat swallowed him.
Ben cried out into his mouth. He was tight, wet, and Alec couldn’t help plunging in all
the way, pushing the deepest he could into his omega. So he claimed every bit of Ben.
“A-Alec.” Ben dug his nails into Alec’s shoulders, his chest heaving, his eyelids
fluttering shut.
“Good?” Alec whispered.
Ben nodded eagerly, spreading his legs wider. Like he couldn’t have enough of Alec’s
cock. Alec drove deep inside him, his balls pulling tight. Ben choked on his moan. And
Alec wanted to hear it again. So he fucked deeper, harder, loving each gasp and cry that
he milked from his omega.
“More?” Alec growled.
“Yes,” Ben pleaded. “Yes, yes.”
His body opened so sweetly for Alec; Alec snapped his hips, his attention anchoring
onto where they joined. It felt so good whenever he was inside Ben. Ben was perfect, his
body sucking Alec in deeper, clenching around Alec like Ben was always meant to be
his.
“Fuck,” Alec panted, throbbing inside his omega.
Ben threw his head back, exposing his pale, delicate neck. So Alec leaned in and closed
his mouth over the base of Ben’s throat, sucking hard.
Ben thrashed, gasping, clawing at Alec’s back. His pulse thrummed against Alec’s
tongue. “Yes,” Ben whimpered, his voice breaking.
Alec bit and sucked, at the same time he thrust deep. In and out, in and out, his body
kissing Ben in the most intimate way.
“Alec,” Ben gasped, tensing up like he was on the edge. It was enough to bring Alec
close. Alec snarled against Ben’s throat, fucking in hard.
Pleasure crashed through his body; he groaned and buried himself to the hilt, filling
Ben with his come. No more pulling out, no more holding back. Alec cradled Ben
against himself and rocked into him, until Ben choked and shuddered, his wetness
spilling onto Alec’s midriff.
It always filled him with pride, knowing he’d made Ben come. “Mine,” Alec rasped,
dragging his wrists down Ben’s body. “All mine.”
Ben whimpered, huddling close. He smelled like musk and sweat, and teak. Alec
nuzzled his omega, his knot swelling.
For minutes, Alec dropped kisses onto Ben’s face, his lips, kissing everywhere he could
reach. He cuddled Ben close against himself, just listening as Ben’s panting evened out.
Ben’s come smeared wetly against Alec’s skin, drawing his attention lower. To where
their bodies joined, and Alec’s knot grew, locking them together.
This would seal Alec’s come inside Ben’s body, and Ben would really get pregnant. If he
hadn’t last night, then he would now. Alec’s stomach twisted uneasily.
“I want this baby,” Ben murmured, a small smile curving his lips.
He leaned in and tipped his face toward Alec, and Alec couldn’t help giving him a soft
kiss. If Ben wanted a baby, Alec would give him a baby. It just... sent foreboding down
all his nerves.
How long could they keep the pregnancy a secret?
“I don’t want to fuck up as a dad,” Alec said. “I’ve been fucking up so much.”
But Ben’s smile only grew. “You want to be dads with me?”
That sounded terrifying, and also kind of sweet. “Sure,” Alec croaked. His stomach did
the flips.
Ben frowned. “You don’t have to, you know. I can manage.”
“No. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” Alec narrowed his eyes, covering Ben
with his own body. “My omega. Mine.”
Ben blushed, and Alec’s heart swelled for him⁠—like it had always done.
“I love you,” Alec growled.

Ben stopped breathing. “You⁠—You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t care. That’s what I feel.” Alec leaned in, and Ben met his lips hesitantly. But Ben
didn’t say I love you in return. Alec felt it in his kiss, he felt it in Ben’s gaze.
Maybe Ben would say it when he felt comfortable. At least, Alec hoped he would.
His knot thickened, a heavy pressure that Ben squeezed around. Alec gulped. “I⁠—I
haven’t knotted with anyone else before.”
He’d fucked other people, just to know what sex felt like. Just to pretend he was
sleeping with Ben. But he’d never wanted to stick with any of those omegas for the
duration of a knot.
Now that Ben’s body tightened around him, now that they were locked together, skin-
to-skin, Alec was only glad that Ben could be his first for something.
A flush crept down Ben’s throat. “I... haven’t, either. Been knotted, that is.”
Alec frowned. “No? But you were married.”
Ben shrugged and looked away. “William, he⁠—he never wanted to.”
The more Alec learned about that bastard, the more he wanted to punch him. But on
this⁠—maybe it wasn’t so bad. Because now Alec could be Ben’s first, too.
He smiled and pressed their foreheads together, rolling his hips when it felt like his
knot had stopped swelling. It pushed deeper into the tightness of Ben’s body, sending a
low hum of pleasure up his spine. Ben moaned.
“Feels good, huh?” Alec grinned. And he rocked his hips again, just to pleasure Ben
with his knot.
Ben flushed. “We just⁠—You just made me come, Alec. Are you trying to do it again?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it?” Alec grinned, pressing his knot deep, trying to see if he could
massage Ben’s prostate with it. Ben moaned softly in his arms. Except now Alec wanted
to see exactly how blissed-out he could make his omega. “Tell you what, let’s try it right
now.”
Ben groaned. “Any more, and I won’t be able to move.”
“That’s fine. I’ll carry you around.”
“You’re impossible,” Ben said, fond and exasperated. “What am I going to do with
you?”
Alec looked pointedly between their bodies. “You already know.”
“Alec!” Ben smacked his arm. And Alec rolled his hips, drawing a moan from his
omega. Ben’s smile melted into a pleasured sigh.
Izzy knocked on the door. “Daddy?”
Ben stiffened immediately, looking over. He was so protective of his son, that Alec
wanted to hold him close and cuddle him. Take some of that pressure off his shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, concern seeping into his face.
“Did you find the snake? You sounded like you were shouting about it,” Izzy said.
Ben’s gaze flew up to meet Alec’s. And his blush returned in full force.
“It’s inside you,” Alec whispered, rolling his hips. Friction whispered between their
bodies; Ben bit his lip.
“It escaped,” Ben said.
“Into a hole,” Alec added.
Ben smacked his thigh, hissing, “Alec!”
Alec shrugged and grinned. “It’s the truth.”
Through the door, they heard Izzy gasp. “Is it going to come out of the hole?”
“Yes,” Alec said. “But we’ll be ready for it this time.”
Ben covered his face.
“Caleb says ‘Don’t hurt the snake,’” Izzy said. “So don’t kill it, okay?”
“No, we won’t,” Alec answered. Under his breath, he added, “Maybe just choke it a
little.”
“Gods, Alec.” Ben thumped his head against the floorboards. Alec hurried to slide his
hand behind Ben’s head, to protect him from the floor. “Is there anything else you need
help with, Izzy?”
“Uh-uh. I’ll go read my book again.” Izzy’s footsteps pattered away.
“For a bit there, I thought we’d have to get up to help him,” Ben mumbled, looking at
their joined bodies. “That would’ve been so awkward.”
“Maybe we should prepare for it anyway,” Alec answered. “Better safe than sorry,
right?”
“How do you even suggest we do that?” Ben looked perplexed. “I’m... locked around
you.”
“We spin you around on my knot. And, uh, wrap a thing around our waists. You know,
so we look kind of decent.”
Ben whined. “That’ll just make it look like you’re inside me!”
“It’s not like I can pull out right now.” Alec tugged lightly; his knot remained firmly
lodged inside Ben.
Ben flushed a pretty shade of pink, but he sighed. “Fine.”
So Alec scooped Ben up to shuffle him around. Ben bumped awkwardly against his
chest, and Alec’s knot pushed deeper. They groaned at the hint of pleasure, exchanging
a warm, intimate look. Alec kissed him. And kissed him again.
Ben ended up coming so many times that morning.
The next day, Temmie arrived with the rescue crew.
⁠
B EN WOKE to his phone buzzing beneath his pillow. Behind, Alec tightened his
embrace. “Sorry,” Alec murmured. “I should’ve waited to send that to you.”
What was he sending? Ben stirred, leaning into Alec’s warmth. He was starting to get
used to this. Waking in Alec’s arms, snuggling into his strong chest, just letting Alec
kiss him all over. The sheets smelled like daisy and teak. Like them. Ben didn’t want to
leave the cabin at all.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled, squirming around to admire Alec’s handsome face. “I’m glad I
woke up. You feel good.”
Alec grinned, pleased. “I was gonna get up early to make you breakfast, but I wanted to
hold you a bit longer. Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize.” Ben leaned in, and Alec met him halfway. The kiss was soft and
sweet, Alec’s morning breath puffing onto his skin. That made the kiss very real. I can’t
believe Alec’s kissing me.
Alec pulled back a little, just enough that Ben could focus on his eyes⁠—the deep gray of
them, flecked with sapphire blue. They looked into Ben as though they could see
everything. And Ben remembered Alec’s words from yesterday. I love you.
His heart fluttered. He knew he should’ve answered Alec, but he just... couldn’t. The
more they got involved with each other, the more it would hurt when they had to
pretend that they weren’t alpha and omega. Maybe Alec would decide it would be
better not to get into this mess with Ben.
“What did you send?” Ben asked, trying to push his depressing thoughts away.
“The pics from yesterday.” Alec winked. “Your buns.”
Oh gods, that picture. Ben pulled his phone out from under his pillow, afraid to look at
it. They’d been busy all of yesterday⁠—they’d spent a long while knotted together. After
Alec’s knot had receded, they’d made cookies together with Izzy, and played with him
until dinner.
After dinner, when Izzy had fallen asleep, Alec had taken Ben by the window, he’d bent
Ben over the couch, and then he’d brought Ben into the bathroom and slowly undressed
him, touching him all over. Ben’s ass ached from how thoroughly Alec had claimed
him⁠—he’d never received that much loving, all in one day. Then there was the bite
mark on his shoulder, too.
“Are you gonna look at it?” Alec grinned, reading the list of notifications on Ben’s
phone. Ben found Alec’s messages, holding his breath.
Growing up, Ben and Alec never had their own phones, not until the end of middle
school. Even then, they’d shared a beat-up old phone, that Mom had bought second-
hand and given to them⁠—Dad had passed away, and Mom wanted Ben and Alec to
have a way to reach her if they needed to.
Back then, Alec had left messages for Ben on their phone⁠—they’d started a notes file,
writing things like A: mom packed egg sandwiches for lunch! and B: i didn’t understand mrs
t’s class at all and A: don’t worry benny, i’ll explain it to you later.
So receiving messages from Alec again... that felt like the old days. Except now they
both had phones, and maybe Ben could call Alec and listen to his voice at night.
“What’re you thinking about?” Alec murmured, kissing his cheek.
“Um, when we get back home.” Ben fidgeted, his face growing hot. “We’ll still keep in
touch, right?”
Alec’s smile turned lascivious. “By ‘keep in touch’, you mean, touching you like this?”
He ground their hips together. Ben gasped, glancing at Izzy to make sure he was still
asleep. “Alec!”
Alec chuckled. “Of course we’ll still keep in touch. How do you want me to?”
Ben grinned, a weight rolling off his heart. “Is it okay if I call you? At night.”
Alec’s mischief deepened. “I’ll be happy to whisper dirty little things in your ear.” He
reached between Ben’s legs, squeezing him there. “Get you all hot. I want to hear you
pant and gasp, Benny. I want to hear you come for me.”
Ben gulped, his insides growing molten. Keeping his distance from Alec sucked, but
nightly calls... it would be a good substitute. He tapped on Alec’s unopened message,
staring at the sheer lewdness of Alec’s picture. That actually happened.
“Looks like my sausage fits perfectly in your buns,” Alec whispered.
Ben flushed, but he couldn’t help tapping on the picture, to look more closely at Alec’s
cock. It felt like he was holding some sort of incriminating evidence in his hands. And
yet... he didn’t want to delete that picture at all.
“I didn’t know you knew about Ben’s Buns’,” Ben said.
Alec flushed. “I, uh. I’ve been hanging around. Gareth tells me you’ve been doing fine.”
Oh. Ben’s cheeks grew warm. “I’ve... been doing okay.”
“I love that you’ve got your own bakery and everything.” Alec grinned, nuzzling Ben.
“It’s amazing, you know. Your buns and all the decorations and the butterflies and...”
He breathed in, smiling so proudly that Ben didn’t have the heart to tell Alec about his
debt.
Then the phone buzzed again⁠—a message from Temmie. The notification slid in over
Alec’s photo, a reminder of how scandalous this was. And how he was still accepting
Alec’s touch, Alec’s breath in his ear.
“Are you gonna open it?” Alec asked.
“Do you feel guilty about this?” Ben asked in return.
Alec tightened his arms around Ben’s waist, blowing out a slow breath. He thought on
his answer for a long moment. “I do kinda feel bad, yeah. Feels like Dad would be
disappointed. Probably really pissed.”
Ben imagined Dad frowning, his mustache quivering in anger. His stomach sank. Then
he pushed that thought away, looking at the too-bright screen of his phone. It hurt to
stare at the screen for too long, when it usually didn’t.
Ben! And Alec and Izzy! Temmie had written. Looks like we’ll reach the cabin today. Time to
be rescued!
Ben read the message. Then he read it again. And he wished that he’d never seen
Temmie’s note at all. Next to him, Alec sighed.
“Do you think she’ll smell this?” Ben asked.
The cabin smelled of the thick musk of sex. Izzy hadn’t commented on it, probably
because he’d grown accustomed to the scent even before he’d woken up. But to anyone
just stepping in... there would be no mistaking what had gone on in here. Ben’s stomach
twisted.
Alec frowned. “Thought I saw some scent suppressants in the first-aid kit. That might
work.”
Then he leaned back, scrutinizing Ben’s neck. “I hope you have makeup,” Alec growled,
rubbing a spot on Ben’s throat with his thumb. “You’ve got a hickey here. And here.”
Ben’s face grew hot. The love bites. Alec had left them all over Ben’s body, and Izzy had
frowned at them last night. Ben had said he’d gotten them from crashing into the wall.
Izzy, however, had looked suspiciously at Alec.
But for an adult to see the hickeys⁠—what if their cousin deduced that Ben and Alec had
become more than brothers? What if the news reached Mom and Gran?
“We need to clean up,” Ben said, his throat squeezing tight. He scrambled out of Alec’s
arms, his heart pounding.
Alec hauled him back under the sheets, so his back thumped against Alec’s chest.
“Relax,” Alec whispered. “Things will be okay.”
“But...” Ben couldn’t stop his nerves from fraying. Bad enough that Temmie would be
here. But Ben was probably also pregnant with Alec’s child.
Alec slipped his hand under Ben’s shirt, pressing his palm over Ben’s heart. “You’re
scared, huh?”
Ben gulped, his skin too tight. “We need plans. We need to just... act normal. What if⁠—
What if I mess up?”
Alec buried his face against Ben’s nape, kissing him softly. “I’ll be here. Things will be
fine, Benny. You’re not alone.”
Sleeping with Alec was one thing, but trusting him on something big like this? Ben was
afraid to. He’d been trusting only himself for so long, and even though all his instincts
said to trust Alec...
Alec’s lips brushed his skin; his wrist left trails of teak on Ben’s chest. “I’ll protect you,
remember?”
Ben remembered. “You said... that omegas are a treasure.”
Alec laughed. “I did. But I was lying a bit.”
“You were?” Ben couldn’t believe it. Alec, lying? “How so?”
Alec turned Ben around to face him. Then he kissed Ben softly on the lips. “You’re my
greatest treasure. Not just any other omega.”
Ben’s heart stopped. He couldn’t breathe, and his vision went blurry. Calm down. You
shouldn’t be focusing on this. “Oh.”
Alec looked hopeful and expectant, like he thought Ben might respond. Ben couldn’t. So
much was at stake. And Izzy... What if Mom or Gran got angry, and they told Izzy what
a bad person Ben was?
Even though Ben knew he should end this, he couldn’t.
“Thank you,” he said lamely.
Disappointment flickered in Alec’s eyes. Instead of voicing it, he gathered Ben close and
kissed him all over. “Okay, let’s get the scents sorted out first,” Alec murmured. “Then
we’ll do breakfast. We’re running low on food, too.”
It was probably a good thing that they were getting dug out of the snow. His spirits
low, Ben followed Alec to the bathroom. They found two bottles of scent
suppressants⁠—expired, but it was better than having none.
When the cabin was sprayed down, Alec got to work on breakfast. Ben stood with him,
checking Temmie’s newest message.
We’ll be there in half an hour, she’d texted.
Ben’s stomach flopped back and forth, like it wanted to wrench itself out of his body.
“Bad?” Alec asked.
“She’ll be here soon.” Ben fiddled with his phone, knowing he should step away from
Alec. He couldn’t. “I don’t want to go home. I just...” I want to be with you.
Alec turned away from the eggs in the pan, pulling Ben into a hug. Then he kissed Ben
slow and sweet on the lips. “It’ll be fine. We’ll find time to be alone. You could come
spend a night at my place.”
That was a good thought. Ben made himself focus on Izzy, who had padded into the
kitchen with his dragon book.
“You didn’t read this to me last night,” Izzy said.
They’d been too busy playing hide-and-seek around the cabin⁠—Izzy had teamed up
with Alec to look for Ben, and Alec had given Izzy a high five when they’d finally
tracked Ben down.
Ben cracked a smile, pulling Izzy into a hug. “Why don’t we read it now?” So he would
have a chance to hear Alec’s dragon voice. “Uncle Alec, you’ll have to join in.”
“I’m Uncle Alec now, huh?” Alec grinned, dishing up the eggs.
“At least you aren’t Grandpa Alec,” Ben said.
Alec laughed, low and booming. Ben wanted to hear it again. So he said, “What about
Old Man Alec?”
Alec angled a look at him, one that promised tickles. “The moment I get my hands on
you, Benny...”
“Why do you call my dad Benny?” Izzy asked. “No one else calls him Benny.”
Alec’s smile mellowed. “I called him that when we were kids. Because he was always
my special Benny-bunny.”
Ben’s face warmed. He hadn’t heard that nickname in years. Back then, Alec had been
hugging Ben on a swing, both of them straddling the rubber seat. Benny, Alec had said
over Ben’s shoulder. You’re the best in the world.
I am? Ben had asked.
Yes, you’re the very best Benny. My special Benny-bunny.
Should I hop like a rabbit? Ben had answered, flattered.
“We ended up playing Leap-Bunny instead of Leapfrog,” Alec said dryly. “Until your
dad accidentally hit me with his head when he stood up too soon.”
Alec had clutched his crotch and curled up, and Ben had felt so guilty after that. At least
Alec didn’t seem to have suffered any permanent damage.
“Am I still a bunny?” Ben asked.
Alec grinned, wriggling his eyebrows. “If you are, maybe I am, too.” They had been
mating like rabbits.
Ben laughed and shook his head, taking the dragon book from Izzy. “We should read
this while we have time. When I return to Meadowfall, I’ll have to get back to the
bakery as soon as I can.”
Alec’s smile fell. “Yeah, I’ll be busy with work, too.”
He dished the eggs, before sitting at the kitchen table with them. Ben frowned⁠—Alec
had fried up two eggs each for Izzy and Ben, but he’d only given himself one. Same
with the toast.
“Alec,” Ben said, reaching over for Alec’s plate. “You should’ve gotten more food⁠—”
Alec caught his wrist, his smile warming Ben to his toes. “No, I’m fine. You need more
food.”
He glanced pointedly at Ben’s abdomen.
Ben flushed, following his gaze. Then he realized why the lights had seemed so bright
this morning⁠—the same reason why he wore the faintest trace of a honey scent now.
He was pregnant.
⁠
B EN GREW DIZZY , swaying in his seat. I’m pregnant. I’m carrying Alec’s baby. And it was
the best and the most terrible thing at the same time.
Alec was immediately beside him, grasping his shoulders. “You okay?”
Ben nodded. His ears rang. He’d expected to have a few more days to digest the
consequences of their cabin stay, but... This was kind of soon.
Alec leaned in, sniffing at him. And his grip tightened around Ben’s shoulders.
“Benny...”
“I know.”
Alec sucked in a slow, deep breath. Then he tipped Ben’s face toward his, and kissed
him. Ben’s heart stopped. Even knowing that Ben was pregnant, even knowing that Ben
wanted the baby⁠—Alec hadn’t once gone back on his word.
When Alec pulled away, he gazed deep into Ben’s eyes. “You know my number. If you
need anything at all... tell me.”
Alec was everything that William wasn’t. He was generous. Kind. Loving. And despite
Ben’s distrust toward other alphas, despite all the pain he’d been through, he trusted
Alec with all his soul. Ben swallowed hard, his heart full. It felt as though he was the
one who had found the world’s greatest treasure. “I will. Thanks.”
Alec kissed his forehead, brushing his wrist along Ben’s jaw. Then he looked sheepish,
scrubbing at the marking with his thumb. “Shouldn’t be doing that right now.”
Temmie would be here soon. Ben wished he didn’t have to erase Alec’s markings off his
skin. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”
His smile warm, Alec kissed him again.
A low rumbling began in the distance. After the quietness of being snowed in, anything
aside from the crackling stove caught Ben’s attention. It sounded like a machine, or a
vehicle. Like a snowplow.
Ben’s heart sank.
Alec glanced up. “Sounds like they’re here.”
“Who’s here?” Izzy perked up. “Are they coming to rescue us?”
“Aunt Temmie said she’s bringing more food.” Ben smiled wryly. “It sure sounds like
they’re here to dig us out of the snow.”
He met Alec’s gaze, reading the unspoken agreement there⁠—that they would pretend to
be brothers and nothing more, whenever family was around.
“I’ll get the spray,” Alec said, squeezing Ben’s shoulder. “Eat up.”
But Ben had completely lost his appetite. He thought about reminding Izzy to keep
silent about his relationship. It felt like such a lie⁠—so Ben didn’t.
After all, if you didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, no one would call attention to it,
right? If Ben kept Izzy distracted, maybe Izzy wouldn’t have anything to say about Ben
and Alec.
Maybe we should get him a new toy on the way home. So he’ll talk about it instead of Alec and
me.
Alec handed him the scent suppressant; Ben masked his scent again. Then Alec passed
him the plate of eggs and toast. “Eat that,” he rumbled. “It’s gonna get cold.”
“You haven’t eaten yours, either,” Ben protested.
“I was waiting to see if you needed more.”
Ben wanted to smile and cry. “No! Eat your food, Alec Miller. Or else.”
Alec grinned, but he picked up his plate, shoveling the egg into his mouth. “Or else
what?”
“Or else...” Ben wasn’t so great with threats. You’re grounded for fifteen minutes didn’t
exactly work with someone like Alec. “You’re, uh. You’re grounded?”
Alec smirked. “Try harder, Benny-bunny.”
“I’m not sure how hard I’m supposed to try.”
“How about ‘very hard’?” Alec winked, and Ben had to turn away to hide his blush.
In the end, they didn’t get to read the dragon’s tale to Izzy. Armed with the metal
bucket, Izzy scurried to the front door and began digging into the snow tunnel.
“C’mon, let’s all dig together,” Alec rumbled, grabbing a frying pan from the kitchen.
“We’ll be free in no time.”
Ben didn’t want to leave the cabin. But with Alec shoveling a path out of the snow, Ben
wanted to stay close. Because Alec was strong and inspiring, and to carry his child... It
was such an honor.
Ben kept those feelings to himself, hurrying to melt snow on the stove. Izzy stayed with
Alec, cheering when they dug a few feet past the porch, then a short distance into the
driveway.
The snowplow rumbled louder now. There were voices, too.
“We’re here!” Alec yelled.
“Alec!” Temmie’s voice drifted over. “Stay back, we’re clearing the snow!”
“My car’s in the driveway,” Alec answered. “Try not to hit it!”
Temmie laughed.
Ben joined Alec and Izzy on the porch, tucking his fingers into Alec’s hand. “We’ll be
fine,” Alec murmured. “Want a ride home? Just me, you, and Izzy.”
That meant more time alone with Alec. More than he’d expected. Ben nodded eagerly.
“Yes, please. I’ll pay for our share of gas and everything.”
Alec huffed. “There’s a better way to make up for it. Lunch with me next week?”
Ben bit down his smile. Did Alec even have to ask? “I don’t know if I’ll be busy with the
bakery. But if you want to drop by after-hours for dinner... There are usually some buns
left over.”
Alec brought Ben’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “I could cook for you. Fresh
food, Benny-bunny. Not customer rejects.”
Ben flushed. He didn’t want to tell Alec how badly the bakery was doing. He didn’t
want to beg Alec for money. It just wasn’t right.
Except all he could afford right now was leftover buns.
Alec raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. Before Ben could reply, the snow wall
in front of them crumbled. Ben snatched his hand away from Alec’s, tucking it into his
pocket. Alec narrowed his eyes.
“Not sure I like hiding,” Alec muttered.
If he refused to hide, that would make things so much worse. Ben squirmed. “We have
to.”
Temmie kicked through the remnants of the snow wall, bounding up to them. Hers was
a familiar face, all joyful and relieved when she caught sight of them. Ben felt guilty that
he didn’t feel the same. Temmie yanked him into a tight hug.
For a heart-stopping moment, Ben wondered if his old clothes had enough daisy scent
to pass off as his own. If his honey scent would waft off his skin anyway, and Temmie
would realize he’d gotten pregnant.
“Are you okay?” she asked, scrutinizing him worriedly. “It was all over the news.
Homes in the forest were buried in snow. The locals are fine, but we were stuck in our
hotel for hours. It must’ve been so much worse for you guys.”
She doesn’t know. Relief seeped through his nerves. Ben patted Temmie’s back
awkwardly, trying to breathe when she was hugging him so tight. “We’re fine. Alec
took care of us.” What Temmie didn’t need to know was just how well Alec had taken
care of Ben.
Temmie leaned back with a smile. “That’s such a relief to hear. It was the largest early
snowfall in a decade... or something. I don’t remember.”
She looked him over again, and as her gaze swept down his neck, Ben held his breath.
There were the hickeys he’d tried to hide with foundation, but the light in the cabin
hadn’t been so great for makeup application. Can she see...?
Temmie scrutinized the rest of his body. “It feels like you’ve lost weight,” she said,
looking upset. “Were you actually starving and not telling me?”
“No, no! Maybe you remembered wrong.” Ben blew out a sigh of relief. She didn’t notice.
“I didn’t lose weight. Here, look at Izzy, Tem. He looks fine, doesn’t he? Say hi to Aunt
Temmie, hon.”
Izzy bounded up to join them, shy and excited at the same time. “We were snowed in,
but it was lots of fun! Daddy found a snake!”
Ben’s stomach dropped. Alec’s ears turned pink. They hadn’t thought Izzy would
mention that joke to anyone.
Temmie’s eyebrows shot up. “A snake? In the cabin? It’s winter, Izzy!”
“Uh-huh! Daddy said it went into a hole,” Izzy explained, oblivious to their reactions.
“How big was it, Daddy? Was it big?” He threw his arms apart, trying to gauge the size
of a regular snake. “Caleb wants to know. I said I’d ask you, but you were busy with
Uncle Alec.”
Yeah, Ben had been busy putting said snake into his hole. His face burned.
“You... told Caleb?” Alec asked Izzy, his voice just a little off. He shifted slightly, like he
was embarrassed. Through his own discomfort, Ben admitted to himself that Alec was
adorable.
“Of course I told Caleb!” Izzy looked offended. “I tell him everything!”
Sometimes, Ben wished his son wasn’t such close friends with that kid.
“So is the snake still there?” Izzy looked back at the cabin. “Did it escape? Can I see it?”
Alec coughed awkwardly. “It escaped, Iz. Nothing more to see.”
Temmie’s stare burned into the side of Ben’s head. “Snakes hibernate in winter,” she
said flatly, glancing at Ben and Alec. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”
Ben met his cousin’s eyes, a bundle of words on his tongue, and none he could say.
What if I told you that was Alec’s snake? Would you ever speak to us again?
“Maybe it was a lizard,” Alec said. “I just saw a long tail.”
“But snakes move differently from lizards,” Izzy said. “Lizard tails wiggle a lot! Snakes
go like this.” He began wriggling purposefully, side to side, and Ben had to bite down
his laugh.
“Did Caleb teach you that, too?” Ben asked.
Izzy nodded, giving a bright smile. “So if you tell me how the tail moved, I can tell you
if it’s a lizard or a snake!”
Temmie shuddered. “No, let’s not talk about lizards.”
Izzy looked at her in horror. “You don’t like lizards?”
“No.” Temmie made a face.
“Why?” Izzy looked so aghast that Ben leaned in, pulling him into a hug.
Temmie shuddered harder. “One crawled over my face when I was trying to sleep
during a school camping trip. Then I tried to scream and it went into my mouth!”
Izzy only looked amazed. Ben bit down his smile. “Not everyone likes snakes or lizards,
hon,” he said.
“You like snakes,” Izzy pointed out.
“Um.” Ben felt Alec’s hot stare on his skin. “M-Maybe just the big ones.”
“Was it big?” Alec rumbled.
And now they were totally not talking about some imaginary snake. Crap. “Very, uh.”
Why was Ben’s throat so dry? “It was big.”
Alec’s smile grew.
Izzy perked up. “How big was it?”
Crap, crap, crap.
Instead of waiting for Ben to answer, Alec measured out a length with his fingers. “This
big. Kinda small.”
It was smaller than his cock, but no one else needed to know that. Then Alec glanced up
and met Ben’s eyes, and Ben knew they were both thinking about the snake in Alec’s
pants. His face burned. In his mind, all he could see was Alec’s bare cock, thick and
glistening with Ben’s slick. It had filled him with so much pleasure. “We should, uh.
Start packing to leave.”
“If you say so,” Alec rumbled, his voice stroking right down Ben’s spine.
Ben’s entire body tingled; he wanted so badly to press himself against Alec’s bare front.
Then he noticed that Temmie was watching them. His skin felt too tight. Were we
obvious?
“I’m going to clear the snow off my car,” Alec said. “Mind checking the cabin for your
things, Benny? Don’t want to leave them behind.”
“I didn’t know you were still calling him Benny,” Temmie said mildly.
I need to get out of here. Before she finds out. Ben flushed and shrugged, herding Izzy into
the cabin. “I don’t mind. Come on, hon, let’s go pack up your toys.”
“Can we go look for the snake?” Izzy asked hopefully.
It wasn’t like Ben had much choice. “Sure,” he said. “It might’ve disappeared, though.”
When Izzy darted into Alec’s bedroom on a snake hunt, Temmie caught Ben’s arm,
stopping him. “Something’s not right here,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Is Alec
treating you okay?”
Ben’s stomach flipped. “Yes, he is. Why would you ask that?”
Temmie folded her arms, glancing at the front door. “He was looking at you weird.”
Oh, gods. She saw.

“None of this makes sense,” Temmie continued. “There are no snakes here in winter.
You know that.”
Ben bit his lip, dreading where this conversation was going. “Alec was just, uh, joking
with Izzy.”
Temmie looked harder at him. “I heard about what happened with William⁠—”
“This has nothing to do with William,” Ben yelped. Why was Temmie even mentioning
the past? He hugged himself, afraid of Temmie somehow finding out. He scratched at
his throat. Makeup came off on his fingertips, caking under his nails. Temmie glanced
at him, then at his neck. Then she looked closer and grabbed his wrist, looking
concerned. “What happened to your throat?”
Ben froze, flushing hot and cold. I need to leave. I need to leave right now. “N-nothing.”
Temmie pulled his hand away. Ben yanked his hand back, trying to cover his neck.
She’s going to see.
“Benjamin Miller,” Temmie growled, her grip tightening. She rubbed at the makeup on
Ben’s neck, and Ben couldn’t breathe. “Who did this to you?”
Alec. “I-I-I....” Ben searched around for something, anything, to distract his cousin. But
all he saw was Alec through the windowpanes, and the couch that Alec had bent him
over last night.
“I’d have thought you’d gotten lucky,” Temmie continued, scrutinizing the hickey.
“Except you wouldn’t need to hide it. Did someone hurt you?”
Alec stepped onto the porch right then, stomping the snow off his shoes. Ben tensed
even further. No, Alec. Stay away. Don’t let Temmie connect you to this.
Temmie followed his gaze, her attention locking onto Alec. Then she looked
suspiciously at Ben, and Ben could almost see the cogs turning in her mind. His heart
sank.
“When did you get this bruise?” Temmie asked slowly, rubbing the concealer off Ben’s
throat.
“I...”
Alec prowled closer, each step weighing on Ben’s shoulders. “Benny, could you boil
some⁠—Tem? What’s wrong?” Alec narrowed his eyes. Ben shook his head to warn him
off, but Alec didn’t seem to understand.
“Someone gave Ben a bruise,” Temmie said, watching Alec closely. Alec stopped in
front of them, staring at where Temmie was touching Ben’s throat. He met Ben’s eyes,
his own expression fierce and unyielding. He would tell Temmie everything, Ben
realized. And that made him panic.
Before either of them could speak, Temmie stepped between them. “It’s from you,” she
growled, glaring at Alec.
Temmie knows. Ben jerked away from her. “No, Tem. It’s not what you think.”
Temmie clenched her fists, stalking up to Alec. “You hit Ben.”
Ben shook his head desperately. “No!”
Alec scowled. “I’d never do that.”
“So what the hell did you do to him?” Temmie’s voice rose, and Izzy shrank back in the
bedroom doorway. Ben wanted to reassure his son. But this mess... he couldn’t turn his
back on it. Not when it would affect his entire family.
“I kissed Ben.” Alec scowled, stepping around Temmie to lace his fingers with Ben’s.
And that felt like the most incriminating thing in the world.
Ben tried to pull his hand away. Alec held on more tightly, bringing Ben’s knuckles to
his lips. “Not letting you go,” Alec murmured. “Benny.”
Ben flushed hot and cold. Hot, because he’d always wanted to hear those words from
Alec’s lips. But he didn’t want to hear them in front of Temmie. Especially now that
Alec was turning Ben’s hand over, he was pressing a slow kiss to Ben’s wrist, where his
scent gland was. It was the most intimate promise in the world.
Temmie’s mouth fell open. Ben wanted the floorboards to swallow him.
“You’re shitting me.” Temmie took Ben’s other hand. “Ben, you don’t have to listen to
him. Alec’s gone insane.”
“Then I’ve always been insane,” Alec growled.
“He’s not insane,” Ben blurted. His face scorched when Temmie fixed him with an
incredulous stare.
“Ben wants me to kiss him,” Alec growled. “He’s not going to tell you that, because
we’d rather not have you blabbing it to Theo and the rest. But the way he wants to be
kissed, the way I kiss him⁠—I can’t kiss our mom after.”
Ben’s entire body scorched with shame. “Alec!”

Temmie met Ben’s gaze, disbelieving and horrified. “You... want this, Ben?”
Ben nodded, looking away. He couldn’t bear to face Temmie’s judgment. Worse, he
didn’t want to know if she was going back to town, and spreading the news to the rest
of their family. If she did, maybe word would reach Meadowfall, and Ben wouldn’t
even have a home to return to when he got back. His heart clenched.
Alec pulled Ben flush against his chest, wrapping him into a tight hug. “You’re freaking
him out,” Alec muttered. “We’re gonna have enough to deal with, without you judging
him, too.”
Temmie glared. “I’m judging you, Alec. Not Ben.”
Alec shrugged and scowled. “Judge me all you want. My commitment to Ben is most
important, Tem. Not your opinion. Sorry.”
But that sounded just as terrible. Ben didn’t want Alec to lose their family’s respect,
either. “Temmie,” he blurted. “Please don’t...”
Temmie shook her head and backed away. “What about Izzy? You’re dragging him into
this, too?”
Ben knew what a terrible parent he was. If everyone found out about him and Alec, and
they ostracized Izzy, too... Ben couldn’t possibly rob his own child of the rest of his
family.
His heart squeezing tight, Ben buried his face against Alec’s chest. “Please don’t tell the
rest, Temmie,” he begged, clinging onto Alec for strength. “We haven’t figured out
what to do yet.”
Temmie pursed her lips. “So that bruise on your neck⁠—”
“That’s a hickey,” Alec growled. “He was begging for more. The rest are under his
clothes.”
Ben flushed, ashamed. That was as good as admitting that they’d fucked.
Temmie’s shocked silence said everything.
Alec dropped a kiss on Ben’s forehead. “Sorry, Tem. We love you and everything. But
for Ben’s sake, please don’t tell the rest of the fam. Give us some time to sort things
out.”
Under his breath, Alec added, “Ben really likes my snake.”
Ben wanted to crawl up the chimney, and hide there for the rest of his life.
When Temmie still didn’t speak, Ben gathered the rest of his courage and glanced up.
Temmie shook her head, backing away. “This is a mess,” she said. Then she turned and
left the cabin, and her car engine revved to life. Without another word, she drove off
into the forest, the car’s rumble fading into the distance.
And now it was just Ben and Alec, and the growing mess that their relationship caused.
Ben pulled away, his skin prickling all over. It had been the wrong decision to tell
Temmie about their relationship. Maybe they should’ve lied.
“We’ll have to tell Mom,” Alec said.
Ben’s stomach shriveled. “No, we can’t. What if she kicks Izzy and me out?”
Alec’s gaze dropped to Ben’s belly. “Come live with me.”
Ben’s heart skipped. Immediately after, he felt guilty for wanting to move out of Mom
and Gran’s apartment. Would that mean he was abandoning them? So he could do all
the lewd things with Alec? “If... If Temmie doesn’t tell them, you’ll have to promise to
keep this a secret,” Ben said.
Alec narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like keeping you as my secret.”
“It’s safer this way.” Ben’s heart pattered nervously. What if Alec told everyone?
“Please.”
Alec looked stubborn for a second longer. Then he gave in, pulling Ben against his
chest. “Fine. We’ll pretend around them.”
A weight lifted off Ben’s shoulders, and he could breathe again. “Thank you.”
Alec thinned his lips. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
How Alec could keep feeling that way, Ben didn’t know. But he was beyond grateful
for it. “Thank you, really.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Alec smiled crookedly. He released Ben, tugging him
toward the bedroom. “C’mon, let’s get everything packed. It’s time for a road trip.”
“Away from all this?” Ben asked hopefully.
“Home.” Alec laughed. “I want to bring you to my place, Benny. I want to show you
around. I’ve got a pretty fancy house I want you to live in with me.”
Ben’s heart ached with longing. Wouldn’t it be perfect if he could move in with Alec?
Wake up next to him every day? “I⁠—I probably can’t afford the rent.”
Alec’s mouth curved in a slow smile. “Honestly, I don’t care if you pay rent. I just want
you there. With me.”
Ben’s pulse thrummed with anticipation. Alec was being too reckless with their
relationship. It had just been mere days since things snowballed into this. “You’ll really
have to think about it before you agree. Okay?”
Alec laughed. “Just like the credit card?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” Alec grinned, tugging Ben further into the cabin. “But right
now, we’re going on that road trip. Our very first⁠—just you and me and Izzy.”
He dropped a kiss on Ben’s mouth, a light, affectionate touch, and Ben’s spirits lifted.
Just for a little longer, he could pretend that everything was perfect around them. Ben
only hoped that things wouldn’t crash and burn the moment they returned home.
⁠
B EN GREW INCREASINGLY anxious as they drove into Meadowfall. There had been no
word from Temmie, or the rest of their family. He clutched his phone, dreading the
moment it would ring with bad news.
Alec reached over, squeezing his thigh. “Maybe she isn’t telling them. No one’s calling
me, either.”
Ben stared at Alec’s silent phone on the center console. It was a new device, its dark
screen smooth like a mirror, not a single scratch on it. Alec’s car was nice, too⁠—
spacious, tidy, so big that Izzy looked small in the backseat. Alec had everything that
Ben wished he could provide his son with.
“Are you sure you aren’t hiding the snake?” Izzy asked, fiddling with his banged-up
phone. “Caleb’s gonna be so sad. I told him I’d get a picture of it.”
Ben exchanged a look with Alec. They were definitely lying about this. “We’ve searched
all over, hon. It’s disappeared. Maybe it was a magical invisible snake.”
“Snakes have magic?” Izzy’s eyes widened. “Can they do special things?”
“Why don’t you ask Caleb?” Alec suggested. “He knows all about them, right?”
Izzy nodded eagerly, searching up Caleb’s number on his phone. The call connected.
Izzy put the phone to his ear. “Caleb! My daddy just said that snakes are magic.”
After a moment, Izzy asked, “Uncle Alec, is there a snake in your pants?”
Then he craned his neck for a look at Alec’s pants.
Ben choked. What? “Izzy!”
“What?” Izzy looked genuinely confused. “Caleb says snakes like hiding in alphas’
pants.”
Alec froze; the car swerved slightly. “No, no snake.”
“Oh.” Disappointed, Izzy said into his phone, “No, he doesn’t have a snake.”
Ben sighed, rubbing his temples. “This will never stop, will it?”
“At least he didn’t ask if there was a size-changing snake,” Alec muttered.
Ben flushed. He wasn’t going to think about Alec’s snake. Not right now, especially
when he’d just sprayed himself down with scent suppressant.
“What’re your plans for tonight?” Between watching the road, Alec shot him a dark
look.
Ben’s insides tingled. “We’re having dinner with Mom and Gran. They’ll probably want
to know all about being snowed in.”
Alec laughed. “What’re you telling them?”
Gods, Ben hadn’t even thought about that. “We’ll need to get a shiny new toy for Izzy.
So, uh, he won’t mention this.” He flicked his finger between Alec and himself.
Alec’s smile widened. “Do you want more of... this?”
And he flicked his finger between them, too, except more slowly, in a way that
suggested how his finger might move inside Ben.
Ben’s insides grew hot. “Alec!”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alec growled.
Ben covered his face, embarrassed by how his entire body reacted to his alpha. Just
because of a single gesture. “Yes.”
Alec gave a husky laugh. “All right, we’ll get a toy for Izzy, and maybe something for
you, too⁠—”
“No, you aren’t!”
“Since you’re busy tonight, what about the day after? I’ll be on duty the whole of
tomorrow.”
Ben bit his lip. “Maybe not. I’ll be busy with the bakery.”
“Next week?” Alec looked hopeful.
“I think I’ll have a couple of evenings free.”
“Come over for dinner,” Alec murmured. “Maybe stay the night.” In my bed, Alec didn’t
say, but he didn’t have to.
Oh. That day couldn’t come soon enough, suddenly. Ben’s breath snagged in his throat;
he couldn’t help the tiny smile spreading across his lips. Alec linked their hands
together, smiling, too.
It was too soon before they pulled up at the apartment complex where Ben lived with
their mom and gran. Ben gulped, clicking off his seatbelt. It had been a long time since
the thought of going home filled him with dread.
“Hey.” Alec leaned across the center console. He kissed Ben on the corner of his lips⁠—
nothing too intimate. “It’ll be fine. If you need any help at all, call me. I’ll be there.”
He looked so confident and sincere, that Ben couldn’t help relaxing slightly. “Okay.”
“That’s it,” Alec whispered, tucking Ben’s hair behind his ear. “Ready?”
Ben’s heart lifted. Alec made him feel as though he could do anything, and succeed. No
one else did that so perfectly. “Yeah.” He climbed out of the car, trying not to smile
when Alec pulled open the back door for Izzy.
“How’s the game, buddy?” Alec asked. “Your dad and I played with one of those when
we were kids.”
Izzy hardly looked up from the video game console⁠—that had been expensive. And
Alec hadn’t even batted an eyelid at the toy store. “The zombies keep killing me! I can’t
beat them!” Izzy looked so dejected that Ben pulled him into a hug.
“The frogs will help, right?” Ben asked. “I hear that the frogs on Frog Island are really
friendly. Maybe Caleb knows a couple of tricks?”
“But I want to figure it out myself.” Izzy frowned, fiddling with the colorful buttons.
“I’m gonna, just you wait.”
“He’s a tough kid, this one.” Alec laughed. “I like him.”
Ben’s heart skipped. Alec liked Izzy. That meant Ben was raising him well, didn’t it? He
beamed, and Alec slipped an arm around his waist, holding him close. For a moment,
as both of them watched Izzy play, it felt as though they were all in a little bubble⁠—a
family of their own. Ben almost asked, Do you think you’d ever want Izzy as your own
child? Except it was too soon, and too large a commitment to burden Alec with.
He wanted to ask Alec, though. Not that question, but maybe something like Are you
looking forward to our baby? Ben opened his mouth, his pulse ratcheting up. “Al⁠—”
“Ben? Is that you⁠—Oh, Alec!” Mom’s voice rang across the parking lot.
Ben jerked away from Alec like he’d been burned. Immediately after, he regretted it.
But he couldn’t think straight, guilt squeezing his throat tight.
“Easy, Benny,” Alec murmured, his low tone a warning. We can’t look guilty.
When Ben turned, he found their mom hurrying over, excitement scrawled all over her
face. “I’m so glad you’re safe!” she cried, pulling Ben into a tight hug. “And Alec⁠—were
you there? Did you bring Ben and Izzy home? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!”
She hauled Alec into a hug, too, both of them pressed against each other and her. Ben
was terribly glad he’d suggested that they wore the outfits they’d attended the wedding
with. At least, that masked the fact that they’d suppressed their scents.
Mom leaned away, beaming. “Were you snowed in as well, Alec?”
She wasn’t asking if they’d been snowed in together. “Yes,” Ben said.
“He found a snake,” Izzy added, still fiddling with his video game.
Mom’s eyebrows rose; Ben panicked, tugging her away. He loved his mom, he really
did. He had fond memories of her celebrating his birthdays, he remembered her placing
cool towels on his forehead when he’d been feverish. She’d brought him to the doctor
several times in his sickly years, and she was probably the kindest person Ben had ever
known.
But for her to have married Dad, surely she shared some of Dad’s beliefs. What if she
rejected Ben and Alec’s relationship? What if she no longer looked at Ben with kindness
in her eyes?
Ben swallowed his fear, tugging Mom away from Alec and Izzy. “Why don’t you tell
me how Gran’s doing?” Ben asked instead. “Izzy, come along.”
Alec stayed behind; Mom turned with a frown. “Alec! Come upstairs and sit with us for
a bit. Gran would be so pleased to see you, too.”
Alec met Ben’s eyes⁠—he wanted to. But the sooner Mom forgot about the snowed in
incident, the better things would be for everyone. “I’ve gotta go,” Alec said, his gaze
lingering on Ben. “Sorry. See you guys around. I swear I’ll stick around longer the next
time.”
Except it felt like he was really speaking to Ben instead, with how his attention never
left Ben at all.
His heart skipping, Ben tore his eyes away from Alec, nudging Izzy along to the
elevator lobby. Alec’s gaze lingered heavily on him every step of the way. Ben wanted
to turn back, he wanted to burrow into Alec’s arms for just another second. He glanced
over his shoulder.
Next week, Alec mouthed, giving Ben a Call me gesture. Then he winked, slow and
deliberate. Ben looked at the ground, his face burning up.
There was no doubt what Alec’s calls would be about. Ben only hoped he could keep
them discreet.
⁠
I’ LL BE THERE in a bit, Alec texted a week later. Meet me downstairs.
Ben gulped, his hands shaking so hard with anticipation that he almost dropped his
phone. Okay, he typed, trying to catch his breath. Give me a min. To Mom and Gran, he
said, “I’m heading out now. Thanks for watching Izzy tonight.”
Mom smiled and waved him off. “It’s fine, Ben. You’ve been working hard at the
bakery⁠—you need a break, too.”
Gran gave him a shrewd stare over the rim of her glasses. “Don’t stay out too late.”
Ben pouted. I can’t promise that. “I’m twenty-six, Gran. I can take care of myself!”
Gran sniffed dubiously, her gnarled hands guiding a sheet of fabric through a just-as-
ancient sewing machine. “You children, always saying the same thing. It’s safer when
you’re home at night.”
It wasn’t as though Alec’s home was a dangerous place to be. “I’m meeting a very good
friend,” Ben said. “I’ll be fine. Be good, Izzy.”
Izzy nodded, still fiddling with his game. He had Caleb on a video call on his phone.
“Bye, Daddy.” To Caleb, he asked, “But how do you make the frogs sing a song?”
Relieved that Izzy was still distracted, Ben left his family in their apartment, skirting
around the cluster of old discarded boxes in the common hallway outside. The
apartments were an affordable place to live⁠—a little cramped, a little old, but their
neighbors were nice enough. Some days, Ben wondered about the safety of the
building, but it wasn’t as though his and Mom’s combined incomes allowed them to
move into a nicer place. And they refused to let Gran chip in, because Gran was getting
along in age⁠—it wasn’t fair to expect her to work.
Downstairs, Ben squirmed, watching the parking lot’s entrance for a familiar car.
Over the past week, Alec had been sending him messages. Some of them were
affectionate, things like I miss you and How’s my Benny-bunny today? Other times, Alec
began with, What’re you wearing right now? and I’m nursing something big and hard for you,
Benny, and Ben would find an excuse to duck into his bedroom, and lock the door.
Then there were the calls at midnight. The ones that started out as a text: Is everyone
asleep? To which Ben would reply, Yes, call me. And Alec would text, Put your phone on
your cock. Gonna make you feel good, Benny.
Ben always obeyed. His phone would vibrate with an incoming call, tucked into his
pants, right against his growing cock. It felt good. Alec never minded when Ben took a
while to answer⁠—he always began with a growl, How did that feel? And Ben would be
panting, his cock wet, his hands trembling with how much he needed.
The thought of Alec’s touch made him squirm now; he bit his lip, trying not to reach
down to adjust his pants. He was running out of room there⁠—he hadn’t seen Alec for a
whole week, since their return from the mountains. Ben needed to be marked, he
needed to be reminded of who he belonged to.
Alec’s sedan pulled into the parking lot; Ben’s heart skipped. He hurried to the empty
lot Alec picked, barely waiting for him to stop before he yanked the door open.
Alec cut the engine. Ben tumbled into the passenger seat, and Alec’s hands were on
him, Alec’s gaze dark with hunger. “Benny,” he growled, slipping his large hand
against Ben’s nape.
Then he hauled Ben close, meshing their lips together, his tongue sliding into Ben’s
mouth, claiming him inside. Ben moaned and opened wider for him, his entire body
growing hot, his hands wandering up Alec’s thighs, finding the thick line in his pants.
“Alec,” Ben breathed, squeezing Alec’s cock through his clothes. It was so big, all for
him.
Alec growled and shoved his callused fingers down the front of Ben’s pants, reaching in
deep, his fingers circling around Ben’s sensitive tip. Pleasure jolted down his nerves;
Ben gasped and bucked his hips. Alec rumbled his approval, grasping Ben’s cock,
stroking it, as though he was trying to draw Ben’s release out of him. Ben pulsed, his
entire body singing under his alpha’s touch.
“Such a pretty cock,” Alec rumbled, his voice rough with hunger. “Been thinking about
you touching yourself. So fucking hot, Benny.” Then he slid his tongue back into Ben’s
mouth, a hot, wet presence that claimed him inside. Ben forgot to breathe. He loved
when Alec possessed every inch of him. Except they were doing this in a very public
place.
“Someone,” Ben gasped when Alec broke the kiss. “Someone will see.”
Alec yanked the passenger door shut. Then he flipped a lever on the passenger seat, so
it reclined out of sight.
Ben yelped as he fell backward; Alec clambered over, pinning him down. Then he
wrapped his hot, demanding fist around Ben’s cock, and bliss shot through Ben’s
nerves. Ben writhed, his pants so tight that their seams almost split. “Alec,” he
whimpered, his body pulsing with need. “Alec, please.”
Alec kissed down his throat, his breath hot on Ben’s skin. “Please what?”
“I-I⁠—”
Alec pulled his hand out of Ben’s pants. Ben thrashed, needing his alpha’s touch back
on him. Except Alec undid the fastenings and yanked Ben’s clothes down his thighs.
And now Ben’s cock strained thickly against his belly, the cool air of the car caressing
his bare skin.
“So lovely, Benny,” Alec rasped. “You’re so hungry for me.”
Outside, the streetlamps glowed orange, faintly illuminating the inside of Alec’s car. If
anyone happened to walk by, they’d see Ben’s cock shoving hungrily at his stepbrother,
precome smeared across his tip. Feeling guilty, Ben hurried to cover himself. “Don’t.”
Alec pulled Ben’s hands aside, leaving his shameless cock exposed. “Let me see your
pretty cock, Benny.”
Then he leaned in and closed his hot, wet mouth around Ben, and sucked. The pressure
built inside Ben, going down to his balls, his hole, spreading through all of him. Ben
cried out, his hips bucking, helplessly thrusting against Alec’s deft tongue. Alec didn’t
once let up on his sucking; he rushed Ben to the edge, his lips hungry, his low growl
vibrating through all of Ben’s body, demanding that he come.
Ben’s release crashed through him in a blinding wave of pleasure. He arched and
spurted into Alec’s mouth, on and on, his balls scrunching tight, trying to give Alec
every last drop he could.
Alec sucked down all of it with a ravenous growl. Then he squeezed Ben’s balls, his
tongue sliding against Ben’s cock, trying to coax out more come. Ben tried to catch his
breath. Except Alec licked under Ben’s foreskin and all around his tip, tasting every
secret nook and cranny. Pleasure hissed down Ben’s nerves, pulling his limbs tight.
“Alec,” he gasped, winding his fingers into Alec’s hair. “That⁠—That wasn’t supposed to
happen.”
Alec pulled away, letting Ben’s cock slip out of his mouth with a soft ‘pop’. “No, it
wasn’t.” He gave a dark smile. “I wanted to tease you a bit longer first. Touch you
inside. Make you beg, Benny. I want you all desperate for me.”
Ben’s hole squeezed; his cock filled up, twitching under Alec’s attention. He wanted
Alec inside him. He’d been craving Alec’s presence for a week. But all Alec did was
stroke Ben’s cock with his thumb, blowing lightly on it. “Looks like someone wants
more.”
“I’m not⁠—I don’t, I...” Ben flushed so hot, he had to pull his shirt up to hide his face.
Except Alec dropped light kisses up Ben’s belly to his chest, closing his hot mouth
around Ben’s nipple. “Alec!”
Alec laughed huskily. “Are you lying to me, Benny?” He bit lightly on Ben’s nipple, the
sharp points of his teeth grazing Ben’s skin. Ben gasped, his cock growing so hard, it
shoved against Alec’s chest. Alec’s gaze darkened; he rubbed his callused fingertips
down Ben’s length, sending tiny jolts of electricity up Ben’s spine. “Let’s try this again.
Do you want more?”
Ben bit his lip hard. He did. But this was the wrong place to do anything filthy,
especially with Alec. “I don’t know,” he whined, pushing his hips toward his alpha.
“Not⁠—not here. We could get caught.”
Alec chuckled, flicking his tongue against Ben’s pebbled nipple. Then he caught that
nipple between his fingertips, massaging it lightly. “If we’re caught, all you’d be is my
omega. Alphas and omegas do this, Benny. You’re mine.”
Ben’s stomach flipped. He met Alec’s gaze, mere inches between their faces, warmth
and desire intent in his alpha’s eyes.
Alec leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Ben’s lips. In that moment, there was just Ben and
Alec, and no one else.
“I’m not done with you,” Alec whispered, following the edge of Ben’s foreskin with his
fingertip. “Not by a long shot.” Then he kissed Ben again and reached lower, stroking
down Ben’s tight balls. “Think there’s more come left in here, Benny?”
A thrill ran through Ben’s nerves; his hole squeezed. “We’re not... not going home
first?” he squeaked.
Alec growled, sliding his tight fist down Ben’s cock in a sinful stroke. “Not yet. I need to
be inside you, Benny. Need to give you my come.”
That thought drew a moan from Ben’s lips. He panted, shoving his hips at Alec. “Will
you... knot inside me?”
Alec groaned, his fist closing possessively around Ben’s balls. “Hell, yeah,” he rasped.
“Gonna fill you up. I’m gonna fuck you until you scream.”
Ben grew hot between his legs. He craved Alec’s knot, so much. “Please,” Ben
whimpered, pushing his cock at his alpha. “All yours.”
Alec growled and snared him in another toe-curling kiss, their lips sliding together, his
hot fingers stroking around Ben’s most sensitive parts. Ben grew wetter, his slick
coating his asscheeks, smearing across the car seat. Except Alec only continued to kiss
him, his touch lingering around Ben’s cock, his balls, staying away from Ben’s hole.
“A-Alec, please,” Ben begged, trying to open his legs. But his pants kept them together;
he struggled to get them off.
Alec broke the kiss, leaning away to gaze upon Ben’s face. Ben grasped Alec’s hand,
pushing it between his thighs. “Touch me.”
The growl that emerged from Alec was almost animal. “Touch you where?” Alec
rasped, raking his nails down Ben’s thighs. Ben whimpered, reaching down to squeeze
the bulging line in Alec’s pants. It was rock-hard, so desperate that it shoved hungrily
against Alec’s clothes, needing to burrow inside Ben. Ben’s throat went dry.
“Touch me with your cock,” Ben croaked, pushing his hand down Alec’s pants. Alec’s
cock seared his fingers, thick, silky, ready to fuck all the way into Ben’s hole. Alec
swore. Ben whimpered, and Alec pulled Ben’s hand out of his pants.
“I want to see you come again,” Alec growled. “Before I fuck you.”
Ben’s insides thrummed with need. “Please,” Ben begged, rutting against Alec’s palm.
“I’ve been looking at your picture. Your cock looks like it’ll fit right inside me.”
Alec’s gaze burned. And Ben felt reckless, suddenly. He squirmed around onto his side
and grasped his asscheeks, pulling them apart to show Alec his hole.
Alec’s musk flooded the car. He pushed his thick fingers between Ben’s cheeks, rubbed
over his exposed entrance, and plunged two fingers inside, stretching Ben open.
Ben wheezed, his body opening around his alpha. Alec’s inside me. “A-Alec!”
“Fuck, fuck.” Alec panted, pushing his fingers deeper inside. “So damn tight.”
Ben leaked, pleasure jolting through him when Alec pressed down on his prostate.
“Aaah!”
“Again,” Alec growled, shoving his fingers right against Ben’s sensitive spot. “I want to
hear you again.”
Bliss surged through Ben’s veins; he shuddered against Alec, crying out when Alec
massaged his prostate hard, circling it, shoving down on it, rubbing it in a way that
said, Come now.
Ben trembled all over, gasping, his cock leaking as he tried to hold on. Except Alec
pushed Ben down so his cock ground against the car’s smooth leather seat. Then he
began to drive his fingers into Ben, hard and fast, just like the way his cock would
plunge inside, claiming Ben there.
“Come for me, Benny,” Alec growled in his ear. Then he dragged the neckline of Ben’s
shirt to one side and bit down on his shoulder, right next to his scent gland.
Pain and pleasure shot through Ben’s nerves; it went right between his legs and pulled
his balls tight. Pleasure crashed through him a second time, his cock pulsing as it
surrendered its load to the car, Alec’s teeth on him, Alec’s fingers plunging inside him,
claiming Ben as his own.
“That’s it,” Alec rasped, his cock a thick line against the back of Ben’s thigh. “You
sound so fucking pretty.”
Ben reeled with the sheer bliss coursing through his body. Before it wore off completely,
Alec leaned away. Past the ringing in Ben’s ears, he heard the faint rasp of a zipper.
Then something warm and blunt shoved against his thigh, something thick and silky. It
pushed between Ben’s cheeks, a hard, demanding presence that nudged at his hole.
Ben’s insides grew molten.
Alec didn’t wait for Ben to acknowledge his cock. He snapped his hips, pushing against
Ben’s hole, opening him. And then he was inside, every single inch grinding into Ben,
stretching him wide, a thick, heavy length that pushed so deep, Ben screamed, pleasure
lighting up his nerves. His waning cock grew so hard, it hurt, and he couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck,” Alec hissed, straddling Ben from behind. He pulled Ben’s hips up to align them
better, and then he fucked in, every thrust burning bright-white pleasure into Ben’s
body. Ben’s breath punched out of his lungs. “Fucking missed you,” Alec rasped,
leaning in. He dragged his wrists over Ben’s chest, pounding deep. “So fucking
perfect.”
Ben couldn’t answer. He couldn’t focus on anything but Alec’s cock inside him, Alec
holding him, Alec’s need so desperate that Ben wanted to give his alpha everything he
had. “More,” he croaked.
Alec groaned, snapping his hips. His cock seared into Ben; Ben cried out, and Alec
growled, anchoring Ben against himself. It had been too long since they’d joined like
that, too long since Alec claimed him this intimately, every stroke a new marking.
“Alec,” Ben gasped, pushing his hips up, offering himself.
Alec snarled and fucked in so hard, he shoved Ben against the car seat, Ben’s cock
sliding through the puddle of his come. It was lewd, shameful. Alec pounded deeper,
dipping Ben’s cock into his come, over and over, making a mess on the leather seat.
And yet Ben’s cock still jutted up, hungry and needing.
Then Alec reached around, closing his fist around the sloppy mess of Ben’s cock. His
breath rushed out in a dark laugh. “Fuck, Benny. You get so wet for me.”
Ben burned all over. “It’s⁠—It’s my come.”
Alec rumbled. “Even better.”
He smeared Ben’s come all over his cock, base to tip, using it as lubrication. Then he bit
into Ben’s neck and sucked, and pleasure shot down Ben’s spine. He arched, needing
more, his cock pulsing in his alpha’s hand. “A-Alec!”
“Fuck,” Alec breathed, his chest heaving. “Spent all week thinking about this.” He
plunged into Ben, so deep that he could go no further. “You smell perfect. You sound
perfect. You take my cock so perfectly, Benny.”
To demonstrate, he pulled almost all the way out, and slammed it all back in. Ben
wheezed, his body spasming, his cock pulsing. Then Alec did it again, and again, until
Ben all but sobbed in his arms, his balls pulling tight, his need heavy between his legs.
“Alec!”
“Think you can come again?” Alec panted, his lips hot on Ben’s ear.
Ben could only make a sound. And Alec’s fist dragged slow and sweet around Ben’s
cock, his pace picking up, his thrusts growing more desperate. Ben leaked around his
alpha, his entire focus reduced to where Alec touched him, to where they joined.
Somewhere outside the car, something banged, but it was too faint and muffled for Ben
to care. He raised his hips, grasping his cheeks to present himself.
In response, Alec slammed deep inside. Ben screamed.
“Giving you all of my cock,” Alec growled, surging inside Ben, so demanding that Ben
sobbed with pleasure. “Gonna fill you with come. Lock it in.”
“Yes,” Ben panted. If Alec ever wanted to give him another baby...
“Close?”
Ben nodded fervently, his entire body covered with sweat, his pulse throbbing between
his legs. “Please. More, Alec. I’m all yours.”
Alec snarled and fucked in deep, his strokes growing more desperate than before. Over
and over, his cock kissed Ben inside, his thrusts turning uneven, his hands trembling as
he bit into Ben’s shoulder. “Come now,” Alec growled. “Come for me, Benny.”
Ben came, pleasure sluicing through him, his body clenching around his alpha. With a
roar, Alec followed him over the edge, his cock pulsing as he unloaded into Ben, jets of
thick come filling Ben inside.
Ben shook against his alpha, trying to catch his breath. He felt boneless all over, hot and
sweaty and so very satisfied. All the promises Alec had made over the phone, he’d
delivered.
“Mine,” Alec panted, holding Ben tight against himself, sliding his wrists down Ben’s
front, his sides, marking him with teak. Ben let him. There was nothing stopping Alec
from claiming him, not right now. “I wish you were home with me. Wish I was waking
up with you every day.”
Gods, wouldn’t that be nice? If they lived together, if they were real boyfriends?
Alec cupped Ben’s face, turning him so their lips met in a sweet kiss. Ben’s heart
stumbled. “You can’t be serious about me moving in,” Ben whispered. “That’s too good
to be true.”
Alec laughed. “Really? Why else would I want you to move in?”
“For the sex.”
Alec blinked. For a moment, Ben wondered if there was a chance he’d read everything
wrong. Maybe all those heated calls only meant Alec was horny.
“You think I’m just in this for the fucking?” Alec pulled out, turning Ben onto his back.
The warmest smile played on his lips. Then he eased Ben’s legs apart and slid his cock
back inside, a warm, comforting presence. The bulge of his knot bumped Ben’s hole;
Alec pushed lightly, waiting as Ben stretched around his knot. Bit by bit, Alec sank in,
Ben’s entrance relaxing, opening for him. It was intimate beyond belief. And this
definitely wasn’t about the fucking.
Ben flushed. Alec’s knot sank fully into him, growing wider, stretching Ben inside. “No,
I was just making sure,” Ben mumbled. “You’re too perfect to be true.”
Alec laughed, leaning in to kiss him again.
From the corner of his eye, Ben glimpsed movement. Someone? No, multiple someones.
There were people outside the foggy windows. They swarmed out through the building
entrance, crowding around the cars. His stomach dropped. The windows were too
steamed-up for them to recognize him now, but surely someone had seen the car
rocking.
“Alec,” Ben yelped, pushing him away.
Alec turned to follow his gaze. His eyes narrowed. “What’s with all the people? In my
experience, they only⁠—”
In the distance, sirens wailed. Alec stiffened. Ben’s phone began to ring, a jarring
melody in the quiet car. Ben jumped, his heart kicking. Something’s wrong. Something’s
really wrong.
Alec tried to pull out, but his knot resisted. It tugged inside Ben, sending pleasure
through their bodies. Ben moaned, dropping his phone. “Alec!”
“Sorry. Can’t stay knotted in you right now, Benny.” Alec glanced worriedly at the
crowd outside, picking up Ben’s phone. His eyes narrowed at the name on the screen.
Mom.
This was too much of a coincidence. Like everything was going wrong at the same time.
Ben held his breath, hitting Answer. “Mom?” he squeaked. His voice was hoarse⁠—
thanks to all the pleasure Alec had filled him with.
“Ben?” The background sounds almost drowned out Mom’s voice. “The apartment’s on
fire. We had to evacuate.”
⁠
P ANIC FILLED B EN ’ S CHEST . Had fire surrounded his family? “No,” he yelped, his gut
clenching. “Is Izzy okay? What about Gran?”
Next to him, Alec wiped the condensation off the window, peering up at the building.
His lips pressed into a thin line⁠—a bad sign.
“They’re fine,” Mom said, her voice tinny. She sounded rattled. “We all got out in time.
It started next door and spread to our place.”
Ben’s heart hurt. “Were you asleep? Was the whole place on fire when you got out?”
“I was awake,” Mom said. “We all were. Don’t worry, Ben.”
But Ben couldn’t help shaking anyway, when his family had all been in danger. “Was
Izzy afraid?”
“He’s fine.” Mom’s tone turned dry. “He’s upset about leaving his game behind. The
things in the hallway were starting to burn when we left, though. Smoke everywhere.
I’m just glad we’re out here, safe.”
But Ben’s imagination spiraled anyway. He could imagine all the different ways
something could’ve gone wrong, the ways he could’ve lost his family. “You’re sure you
aren’t hurt.”
“Yes,” Mom said, but she had that tendency to make everything sound fine, even when
it wasn’t.
“I’ll be there.” Ben needed to see them for himself. “Please tell Izzy to be brave.”
“We really are okay, Ben,” Mom said. “We only had time to grab ourselves and leave.
Everything else is back home.”
“Okay, okay.” Ben sucked in a deep breath, trying not to panic. Bad enough that there
was a fire. He didn’t want to think about the things in the apartment, all burning away.
Things that he couldn’t replace. Like his laptop for work. And Izzy’s baby clothes. And
his old photos with Alec.
How much would it cost to replace their other things? Even just the daily necessities
like Izzy’s books for school and Mom’s clothes? And Gran’s sewing machine that was
their family heirloom? Ben was already in debt as it was.
He reached for the door handle, needing to go out there and make sure Izzy was really
unhurt. Alec caught him before he could open the door. “They’re fine,” he told Alec.
“But I need to⁠—to get out there. To see for myself.”
Alec glanced at the Call ended message on Ben’s phone. “You just hung up. Mom thinks
you’re somewhere else, not right here in the parking lot.”
He was right. If Mom and Izzy and Gran had vacated their apartment, then they were
probably just outside the building. Somewhere in this same parking lot. If Ben stepped
out now... they would smell sex and Alec on Ben’s skin. Ice slid down Ben’s spine. “I
need to go to Izzy. Please.”
“Lemme get my knot out of you first,” Alec murmured, cradling Ben’s face. “They’re
fine, Benny. You have time before you get to them.”
But Ben didn’t want to stay in the car. He tried to wriggle out from under Alec; Alec’s
knot had swollen even bigger now, locking them together. Alec gritted his teeth,
anchoring Ben’s hips down with his hands. “Gonna take a while to pull out,” he
muttered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Imagine if Mom recognizes your car.” Ben quailed, his entire body clenching.
Alec hissed. “I need you to relax. Can’t pull a whole knot out if you’re squeezing
around me like that.”
“You could’ve pulled it out while Mom called,” Ben said.
“And let you moan down the phone?” Alec grasped Ben, rolling his hips back. His knot
pressed firmly against the inside of Ben’s hole, pleasure humming through their bodies.
Ben gasped. “Now isn’t a good time to come,” Alec added.
Ben flushed. Were it any other time, this wouldn’t have been so urgent. But the
presence of Alec’s car at their apartment, its windows fogged up... this was a recipe for
disaster. “Please do it faster,” Ben begged.
Alec huffed, easing his hips backward. Little by little, his knot slid out of Ben, an
intimate pressure that they were both acutely aware of.
“Almost there.” Alec kissed Ben on the forehead, shifting his weight. This rubbed his
cock against Ben’s prostate, and Ben jerked, clenching. “Damnit, Benny.”
“I can’t help it,” Ben mumbled. Alec growled and kissed him again.
Then, the widest part of Alec’s knot cleared Ben’s hole. Through the foggy windows,
the flashing lights of the fire trucks shone in, illuminating Alec’s glistening cock. Ben
flushed. That had been inside him. All of it.
The moment Alec rolled back into the driver’s seat, Ben yanked his clothes up, reaching
for the door. Alec caught his hand. “Not yet. Gotta erase the scents first.”
Ben hesitated. He knew Alec hated hiding. But Alec was opening the glove box, pulling
out a bottle of scent suppressant.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Alec said, reaching over to straighten Ben’s clothes.
“Damnit, Benny. The come’s all over your shirt.”
Ben groaned. It was too late to prevent that now. He tucked his clothes into his pants,
holding still while Alec spritzed the suppressant all over him. Alec brushed his fingers
through Ben’s hair, combing the suppressant in. Then he erased the scents from the rest
of Ben’s body, and gave the wet spot on Ben’s shirt some extra squirts.
“Better now,” Alec murmured, sweeping his gaze down Ben, checking him over.
“Thank you,” Ben mumbled. He reached over to pull Alec’s clothes over his knot, but it
was too big to fit inside his pants.
Alec caught Ben’s fingers. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. Go to Izzy.”
For a moment, as their gazes met, Ben wanted to ask, Do you think you’ll care for Izzy as
your own? But this wasn’t the right time for it, either. He asked instead, “We won’t be
taking your car to your place, will we? That is, um, assuming that you don’t mind
having everyone over tonight.”
Alec smiled crookedly. “I’ll have to remove the candle stands from the dining table, but
yeah. They’re all welcome.”
Alec had planned a candlelit meal? Ben’s heart thumped. “Mom has her own car. We’ll
probably ride with her.”
“You could ride with me.” Alec rubbed his thumb over Ben’s fingers, a fond, calming
gesture.
Ben wanted to say yes. He felt safe with Alec. Instead, he pulled his hand away, his
insides twisting with guilt.
“I’ll clean up the car,” Alec said. “Go to them.”

Ben scrambled out of the car. As he squeezed through the growing crowd, and as he
smelled the acrid scent of scorched building materials, his unease returned. While he’d
been busy getting distracted by Alec, Izzy had been frightened.
I’m such a terrible parent, Ben thought, flashes of his time with William rising to his
mind’s eye. The times he wasn’t home to stop William from beating their son, the times
he’d hurt too much from William’s torment to push him away from Izzy.
Ben had tried to tell himself that it wasn’t something he could’ve prevented, but that
scared him more. Because it made him feel helpless and pathetic, and out of control.
He swallowed his growing anxiety, searching through the crowd of people. At the far
end of the apartment complex, he found Izzy, Mom, and Gran, huddled together on a
patch of grass. Gran looked exhausted. Mom was frazzled, and Izzy, tearful.
Ben’s heart cracked. He hurried up to them, kneeling next to Izzy to pull him into a hug.
“Are you okay, hon?”
“Daddy!” Izzy threw his arms around Ben, cracking a wet smile. “I lost my game.
Grandma pulled me out of bed and it fell down the other side of the mattress, I couldn’t
save it.”
Mom sighed. “I had to, you know. Your life is more important than a game.”
Izzy pouted. “But I spent so long rescuing the Frog Prince!”
“How did you get here so quick?” Gran eyed Ben suspiciously. “Weren’t you out with a
friend?”
“It’s been ten minutes, Ma,” Mom said, waving it off. “Ben was probably just nearby.
Weren’t you?”
Ben nodded, his cheeks growing hot. “Yeah, I was nearby.” Like, right across the parking
lot.
“Psh, you were with an alpha. That look on your face, you can’t fool me.” Gran clucked
her tongue. “I told you, it’s safer for you to stay home at night.”
Mom looked over, too, curiosity scrawled all over her face. “Is that true, Ben? You were
with an alpha?”
And now she was scrutinizing Ben, too, her nostrils flaring, her eyebrows crawling up
her forehead. Ben froze, his heart pattering. He didn’t know how mussed his hair was,
or how kiss-swollen his lips were. From the look on Mom’s face, he looked pretty well-
fucked. Except Mom couldn’t tell who Ben had been with, because he didn’t have a
scent at all.
“Who were you with?” Mom asked, looking far too shrewd.
Ben wanted the ground to swallow him. “Um, a friend. I was in a car⁠—” Mom raised an
eyebrow “⁠—so it didn’t take so long to get home.”
At least that was close enough to the truth.
Mom was about to ask another question, when Izzy said, “Uncle Alec.”
He was answering Mom’s question. Ben’s stomach dropped. “Yes, Uncle Alec will get
you a new game,” Ben blurted. Anything to change the subject.
“Really?” Izzy brightened, his puppy-eyed look fading away. “I don’t have money to
buy a new one. Do you think he’ll get me another game, too? The new one Caleb’s
playing.”
“Yes, he will,” Ben said. And then he wished he hadn’t spoken on Alec’s behalf⁠—he
wasn’t supposed to be that familiar with his brother. Or make promises that Alec didn’t
know of.
Mom frowned. “Izzy! You can’t just demand games like that! Maybe if you’re good,
Santa will bring you one for Christmas.”
Izzy cheered up. Ben breathed a sigh of relief, turning away. If they could stay off the
subject of Alec...
“I heard about the fire,” Alec said next to him. “Got here as soon as I could.”
Ben jumped, his heart almost crashing through his ribs. “Alec! Gods, don’t scare me like
that.”
Alec slanted a look at him, just briefly, but Ben read fondness in his eyes. Unlike Ben,
Alec looked completely put-together, like he didn’t just have his pants down, his knot
buried inside Ben. “You okay?”
Ben nodded. He couldn’t detect Alec’s scent, either.
“Uncle Alec,” Izzy said, perking up. “I lost my game. Can I have a new one?”
Alec grinned and ruffled Izzy’s hair. “Sure.”
Izzy beamed. “See, he said yes!”
Mom frowned. “Don’t those cost a lot? You shouldn’t spoil him, Alec.”
“Alec!” Gran pulled Alec over, hugging him. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time!
Where’s your scent?”
Ben stopped breathing. Mom glanced over, and Ben couldn’t meet her eyes. A set of
suppressed scents was one thing, but two in a row? When things like that happened on
TV, everyone knew the characters had fucked.
“Having a bad body-odor day,” Alec said, smiling. “Trust me, Gran, you don’t want to
smell it.”
Mom’s stare was heavy on Ben. Ben’s chest squeezed. He wanted to hide somewhere,
so he didn’t have to answer to her. Why else would both he and Alec suppress their
scents? What if Mom suspected the truth, and she disowned them?
Ben swallowed nervously, crouching next to Izzy to occupy a smaller space. So

everyone would forget about him.
“Daddy,” Izzy whispered, tugging on his shirt sleeve. “Uncle Alec has a rock in his
pants.”
Ben frowned. “Rock?” He glanced at Alec’s hips, only to find Alec’s fly yanked shut,
stretched tightly over his thick knot. It was a good thing Alec’s pants were dark, or he’d
draw every set of eyes with that bulge. Like a beacon. Ben gulped. “Don’t⁠—Don’t look
at that.”
“Why would he put a rock in his pants?” Izzy asked. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
“It’s⁠—not a rock,” Ben choked.
“Is it an egg?” Izzy stared harder at it. “Like how papa penguins have eggs between
their legs?”
Ben didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. “No, it’s not⁠—”
“It’s a big egg,” Izzy said. “Will it hatch into a baby penguin? Or a baby person?”
Ben almost wanted to see Alec’s reaction to these questions. Except not in front of Mom
and Gran. “Maybe it’s just a rock,” Ben said, tugging Izzy away so he wouldn’t keep
staring at Alec’s knot. “A very big rock.”
Izzy gasped. “What if he doesn’t know it’s there? Should I tell him? So he can take it
out, it looks like it might break his pants.”
Ben swallowed his spit wrong and began coughing. Alec’s ‘rock’ was something that
shouldn’t be pulled out for public viewing. But before he could stop Izzy, Izzy grabbed
Alec’s hand. “Uncle Alec, is that a rock in your⁠—”
“Alec, do you think we could crash at your place for tonight?” Ben stood so fast, he
grew dizzy. But speaking over Izzy was more important right now. “Izzy has school
tomorrow, and he really needs to go to bed. I swear we won’t intrude on your space for
long. We’ll move out as soon as we can⁠—”
“Sure.” Alec looked quizzical. “Mom and Gran, too. I’ll have to get you guys some
mattresses, but there’s room at my place, yeah.”
“That’s good,” Ben breathed, glancing at his son.
Izzy pouted. “I bet you like having a rock in your pants,” he mumbled, but no one else
heard him.
“I’d figured you guys can stay with me for a few weeks, until you get things
straightened out.” Alec glanced at the still-burning building. “You can’t return to the
apartment right now⁠—by the time the firefighters put the fire out, it’s gonna be
drenched. Like, massive water damage. The apartment’s structural integrity might also
be compromised.”
Ben sagged. “What about tomorrow or the day after? I need some clothes for work.”
“Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you,” Alec said. “Actually, here. Take this.”
He pulled out his wallet, retrieved a credit card, and handed it to Ben. Ben shook his
head. “I can’t use that.”
“Yes, you can.” Alec met his eyes, and looked pointedly at the card. Ben followed his
gaze.
Stamped across the glossy plastic was Ben’s name in silver: Benjamin Miller.
Ben froze, his breath snagging in his throat. “You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.” Alec closed Ben’s fingers around the card, over his name. “I told you I
would.”
“I told you to⁠—” To think hard about it. Maybe Alec hadn’t thought enough. This was a
lot of money he was entrusting Ben with. “Alec, you can’t.”
“It’s already done.” Alec cracked a smile. “We talked about it, remember?”
Briefly, his gaze slipped lower, to Ben’s belly. Ben flushed. That was another secret no
one should discover.
“That’s a good boy.” Gran thumped Alec’s shoulder. “I’m so proud that we have a
firefighter in the family.”
Alec’s grin turned crooked. “I’m not much, Gran. I’m just one person on a fantastic
team.”
Gran smiled anyway, oblivious to the way Mom was looking between Ben and Alec.
“Izzy, why don’t you, Grandma, and Great-Grandma share my room for tonight,” Alec
said, turning toward his car. “The bed’s big enough for all of you, at least.”
“What about Ben?” Mom asked pointedly.
Ben’s blood ran cold. Alec hadn’t noticed that Mom had caught on. And Ben didn’t
want to answer her⁠—it meant having to meet her gaze. He felt too afraid to.
Alec shrugged. “There’s a single bed in my spare bedroom. Ben can have it.”
“What about yourself?” Mom frowned.
This was where everything would go to hell. Ben’s heart pounded so loud, he couldn’t
think.
“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Alec tucked his wallet away. “It’ll be fine.”
“But it’s your own home,” Ben blurted. “You shouldn’t sleep on the floor.”
Alec’s gaze burned into him. “You have another suggestion, then?”
Ben did have one⁠—it involved Alec squeezing onto that single bed with him. It would
be a tight fit. Perhaps not the only tight fit.
Ben couldn’t help the way his face scorched. Alec’s gaze sharpened, his entire attention
locked onto Ben. Mom had to know by now; Alec was obvious, even if Ben wasn’t.
With Mom, Gran, and Izzy all watching their exchange, Ben shrugged awkwardly. “I
guess you’ll just have to sleep on the floor.”
Alec smirked. Ben had to tear his gaze away, otherwise he’d be ogling Alec for eternity.
Firefighters were dousing the flames when Ben looked up, steam billowing out through
the windows. Ben imagined Alec walking into burning buildings, and his heart wrung
with anxiety.
Instead, he thought about the things he wished he’d saved from the apartment⁠—Izzy’s
baby photos, the steaks he’d been tucking away in the freezer, or Mom’s box of
treasures.
Alec crouched next to Izzy. “Feeling okay, buddy? Does your head hurt? Can you
breathe right?”
“I’m okay,” Izzy said, answering Alec’s questions with nods or shakes of his head. Alec
repeated the questions with Gran, then Mom.
“My hip hurts,” Gran grumbled. “Your Ma was hurrying me out of the place.” She was
still recovering from her hip fracture, too⁠—it had to be rough for her.
“We should get going.” Alec frowned. “Let Gran rest for a bit.”
“I’ll drive us over, Alec,” Mom said, giving Ben a pointed look. Like she wanted to talk
about this with him. “Ma, could you make sure Izzy’s buckled in?”
“I can buckle myself in,” Izzy protested, tagging along with Gran.
Ben’s insides withered. He couldn’t do this. If Mom confirmed Ben and Alec’s
relationship, there was a huge chance she wouldn’t forgive them. And Ben didn’t know
how to deal with that, on top of losing his home. “Alec,” he mumbled, giving his alpha
a pleading look. Stay with me.
Alec frowned. “Benny?”
“Ben,” Mom said. “About this⁠—”
“Not right now,” Ben squeaked, feeling like a coward. He hid behind Alec, his stomach
twisting into knots. Mom knows. There’s no way she didn’t see. “Tomorrow, please?”
“What’s going on?” Alec turned to look at Ben, and now Mom could see him again.
Ben’s skin crawled.
“Ben, you can’t hide this forever,” Mom said, more firmly this time.
Ben’s ears rang. She knows. She really knows. He panicked and grabbed Alec’s hand. “I’ll
see you later,” Ben yelped, dragging Alec away with him.
Mom’s gaze weighed heavy on his shoulders, all the way until he ducked behind Alec’s
car.
“Benny?” Alec frowned, stopping next to him. “What was that about?”
“Mom knows.” Ben scrabbled against the car door, trying to get in. “I don’t know what
to do, Alec.”
Alec drew a sharp breath. “How?”
“The scent suppressants. The credit card. Everything.” Ben whined, turning to bury his
face in Alec’s chest. “If⁠—If she disowns us, I won’t have anywhere else to go.”
Alec wrapped his arms around Ben, narrowing his eyes. “You’ll stay with me. She can
leave if she wants.”
But that only made Ben’s heart sink. “But she’s our mom!”
“And you’re my omega,” Alec growled. “You aren’t going anywhere, Benny. You
belong with me.”
Ben’s heart skipped, at the same time it squeezed tight. He thought about Alec warming
up to Mom during the first few months of their parents’ marriage. He thought about
Mom cheering Alec up with toys, he thought about Mom baking cakes for Alec’s
birthdays. Once, when Mom had fallen sick, Alec had dampened washcloths to place on
her forehead. Ben had overheard Alec sniffling in the bathroom.
So Mom meant a lot to Alec, too. It wasn’t something so simple as accepting her
rejection.
“It’ll be fine,” Alec murmured, rubbing Ben’s back. “I won’t let anything happen to
you.”
“But what about you?” Ben met Alec’s eyes. “Who’s going to watch out for you?”
“I’ll be okay.” Alec leaned in to kiss him.
Ben’s heart stopped. “Don’t.” He pressed his fingertips over Alec’s mouth, leaning
away. “Not here. There’s people around.”
He looked over his shoulder, finding the apartments’ residents milling about. Most
were distracted by the fire, but there was one person watching them. One of Mom’s
friends, Mrs. Ruggsby, the one who gossiped and judged everyone.
Ben’s stomach dropped. Mrs. Ruggsby was scowling.
“How dare you flirt with your brother, Ben? You should be ashamed of yourself,” she
said, sniffing in outrage. “Your poor mother, raising such wretched children. I feel sorry
for her.”
Alec’s eyes flashed; he released Ben and rounded on her. Ben panicked. “Alec, no.”
Alec raised his middle finger. “Fuck off.”
Mrs. Ruggsby gasped, doubly offended. “Such behavior from a firefighter! I won’t be
donating to the station any longer, Alec. How atrocious. That behavior, especially from
an alpha. There I thought all firefighters were upstanding citizens.”
“You have no right to tell me who to love,” Alec growled. “And you aren’t gonna use
the station to manipulate me.”
He gave her his other middle finger. Mrs. Ruggsby’s mouth fell open. She puffed up
and turned, presumably to tell someone else how terrible they were. Except she slipped
off the curb and fell face-first onto the asphalt, screeching all the way down.
“Ouch,” Alec said mildly, turning back to tuck Ben into the car.
Ben peered out the window at Mrs. Ruggsby twitching on the ground. “Are you going
to help her up?”
“I wouldn’t want to soil her with my wretched hands,” Alec muttered, getting into the
driver’s seat. “Considering that I’ve touched you inside tonight.” Then he started the
car and drove carefully out of the parking lot, his eyes still narrowed.
Ben fidgeted in the passenger seat, watching as the streetlamps flew by. Mrs. Ruggsby’s
words echoed in his head. Your poor mother, raising such despicable children. You should be
ashamed of yourself.
Had Mom and Gran seen the altercation, or had they already left the parking lot?
Would Gran judge Ben and Alec, too? Gran had always liked Ben, but that was because
Ben did things she approved of. Having a relationship with Alec... Gran would be mad,
wouldn’t she?
Ben gulped, his heart racing. Alec reached over to hold his hand. “How’d Mom find
out?” Alec asked.
“The suppressants.” Ben shrunk down in his seat. “I guess we shouldn’t have both done
it at the same time.”
Alec pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “My fault. I fucked up.”
Ben shook his head. “No, you had to. Gran would’ve smelled you otherwise.”
“I guess.” Alec swore, slamming his fist against the dashboard⁠—Ben jumped at the
impact. “I keep fucking up.”
Ben’s heart ached for him. “No, it was my fault. We just... shouldn’t have done this at
all.” He wriggled his finger between them, ashamed. “There wasn’t any way we
could’ve gotten away, with or without the suppressants. Maybe we just... shouldn’t
have started anything. Between us.”
Alec thinned his lips. “You mean, me and you?”
Ben nodded, his heart heavy.
“Like you could’ve stopped looking at me, that night you were in heat.” Alec’s voice
dipped low. “I saw it in your eyes, Benny. You wanted me. You just looked at me and
your cock grew thick.”
Ben flushed. He couldn’t deny that at all. “I could’ve just... shut myself in my room.”
“You didn’t.”
No, Ben had wanted Alec too much to stay away. He still did. He folded his fingers
together, feeling fragile. From the fire, from the memories of William scoffing at him,
backhanding him. He didn’t feel beautiful, or perfect, or any of the things Alec said he
was.
Alec tightened his hand around Ben’s, but Ben pulled away. “Don’t. It’s bad enough as
it is.”
“We can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Alec growled.
“Yes, we can.”
“I love you,” Alec said.
Ben’s heart squeezed tight. He didn’t know what to do with Alec’s love. With Mrs.
Ruggsby’s judgmental words, and with Mom wanting to talk, Ben didn’t feel as though
Alec belonged to him. Accepting Alec’s love carried the risk of shattering their family.
So Ben kept silent, even though Alec was waiting for him to say those words in return.
“If you left, you could keep the rest of our family, you know,” Ben mumbled. “You’ll
still have Mom and Gran and everyone.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. “No.”
That was everything Ben wanted to hear, and yet at the same time, it wasn’t. He sighed,
closing his eyes. “I’m not perfect, Alec. You deserve someone better.”
“You’re perfect to me.”

Those words dug under his skin like tiny barbs. Ben shoved down the neckline of his
sweater, showing Alec his mottled upper arm. “You call this beautiful?”
Alec glanced over. “That’s not all of who you are.”
“It’s ugly,” Ben hissed. “I’ve been beaten up. I’m not strong like you are. I’ve made
mistakes, Alec. The bakery’s in debt, it’s been in debt for months, and I don’t know how
to save it!”
And then he held his breath, afraid he’d lose Alec’s respect. Alec had been so thrilled
that Ben had his own shop, he’d just given Ben a credit card, and Ben was convinced
that Alec would take the credit card back. To save Alec the trouble of asking, he pulled
the card out, handing it over. “I’m not going to use it on my debt, just in case you were
wondering.”
Alec glanced at the card. Then he nudged it back at Ben. “Keep it.”
Ben’s heart tripped. “You aren’t supposed to trust me like that.”
Alec cracked a smile. “I trust you. I told you, I’d help you any way you need. You’re
beautiful, Benny.”
“I’m not the best father that Izzy deserves.” Ben sighed, wishing he could be perfect like
all those people on TV.
“You’re a great dad to Izzy,” Alec said. “How do I convince you that you’re beautiful?”
If Ben knew, they wouldn’t even be talking about it. “Beats me.”
“Guess I should figure it out, huh?” Alec gave a half-smile. Then it fell. “I didn’t know
about the debt, Benny. You should’ve told me about it earlier. I’ll pay it off.”
That was generous of him, far more than Ben deserved. “You shouldn’t. It wouldn’t
solve the problem, anyway. I’m still losing revenue, and everything I try just keeps
failing.”
“There has to be a way.” Alec squeezed his thigh reassuringly. “I’ll come by as soon as I
can, and we’ll figure things out.”
Ben wasn’t sure Alec could help all that much, but it was a start. He bowed his head,
feeling guilty for snapping at his alpha.
When the car came to a stop, they were on the other side of Meadowfall, in the wide
driveway of a two-story house. Sprawling windows hinted at a shadowy living room,
and the lawn was overgrown. It was a very welcoming residence, though.
“Is that... your home?” Ben asked, envious. He couldn’t afford something like that.
“It’s a house.” Alec slanted a look at him. “It needs a family to make it a home.”
Then he reached over and brushed his knuckles over Ben’s belly, where their baby was.
Ben stopped breathing. Alec wasn’t sure about the baby, but this... He cared, on some
level. Ben trembled, sucking down a deep breath.
Alec pulled him into a tight hug. “Things will work out,” Alec murmured. “Trust me.”
The emotions from the past hour welled up in Ben’s chest, overwhelming him. He
trembled, tears rolling down his cheeks. Alec held him close, brushing his hair,
murmuring little soothing things in his ear. He was solid and strong, never once letting
go. Ever so slowly, the anxiety in Ben’s chest faded away.
It was only when Mom’s car pulled up by the house, that Alec released Ben. He cupped
Ben’s face, kissing the tears off his cheeks. “They’re here,” Alec whispered. “Time to get
you inside the house. Want a shower?”
Ben cracked a smile. “Let Izzy and Gran go first. They’ll need it more than I do.”
Alec gazed softly at him, brushing his thumb across Ben’s lower lip. Then he got out of
the car, opened the passenger side door for Ben, and ushered him into the house.
“Quick private tour,” Alec said, linking their fingers. “Living room, kitchen, and dining
room. There’s two bedrooms downstairs and more upstairs.”
Ben’s eyes grew wide as he followed Alec down the hallway. It was a large place, with
beautiful granite kitchen counters and windows spanning the walls⁠—the house would
be so brightly-lit in the day. “You bought a really big house.”
“It’s yours.” Alec met his eyes. “If you want it.”
And me, Alec didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. Ben flushed, looking at his feet. He
couldn’t accept such an expensive gift.
Upstairs, Alec brought him into the master bedroom. It smelled like teak in there, and
faintly, the smoke and ash from Alec’s job.
“Someday,” Alec murmured as he stroked Ben’s lips, “I’d like this room to smell like
daisy, too.”
Ben’s face grew hotter. “You aren’t going to stop flirting with me, are you?”
Alec grinned crookedly. “I’m courting you, Benny. There’s a difference.”

Ben gulped. “What difference?”
Alec’s gaze roved over his face. “The courting will hopefully end in marriage.”
That stole the breath from Ben’s lungs. “O-oh. You can’t be serious.”
But Alec only smiled.
Voices echoed in the hallway, followed by footsteps. Then the bedroom door burst
open. Izzy tumbled into the room. “Daddy!”
Ben smiled, reaching down to give Izzy a hug. “Hey, hon. Are you sleepy yet?”
Izzy shook his head, grinning. “This is such a big house! Are we gonna stay here?”
Ben exchanged a glance with Alec; Alec smiled. So Ben said, “It looks like we are. For
the time being, at least.”
“Cool!” Izzy pulled out his phone. “I gotta show Caleb.” He started a video call and ran
off.
Ben shook his head. “That child, I swear.”
“He’s pretty cute,” Alec said, smiling after Izzy.
Ben’s heart fluttered. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Alec grinned. “About what I said earlier⁠—I was completely serious.” About
marriage.
Alec really wants to marry me? Ben flushed, suddenly shy. Was it just wishful thinking,
when they were still hiding their relationship from everyone?
Alec tucked Ben’s hair behind his ear, leaning in to kiss his temple.
Then came a knock on the door, before it swung open again. Ben didn’t have time to
panic.
Gran stepped in with her face all red, puffing like she’d just run a marathon. She
brandished her walking stick at Alec. “What’s this I hear about a rock? In your pants.”
⁠
A LEC FROZE . What the hell? “A rock?”
Next to him, Ben stiffened, his eyes growing wide. “Oh, no.”
“You know what she’s talking about?” Alec asked him.
Ben shrank into himself, whimpering. “Um. Maybe?”
Before Alec could ask what this was about, Mom stepped into the room, too, looking
accusingly at them. “Izzy said there was a rock in your pants, Alec. He asked if it would
hatch into a baby.”
“What the fuck,” Alec said. He looked at his pants, expecting to see a stone that had
gotten caught on the fabric. But all there was, was black denim. He did remember
something else that had bulged like a rock, though. It had been damn difficult to close
his pants. Was that what Izzy had glimpsed? His covered knot? Alec cringed. “Shit.”
“He’s a child, Alec!” Gran snapped, jabbing her walking cane at Alec. “What did you do
to him?”
“Nothing,” Alec yelped. “Why the hell do you think I would? He’s just a kid!”
But Gran didn’t seem convinced. “Alec Miller,” she began, hobbling toward Alec like
she was about to roast him. Alec froze.
“No, no!” Ben darted in front of Alec, throwing his arms out⁠—as though he could
protect Alec if Gran really set her mind to it. “Izzy said that because of me.”
Alec’s thoughts ground to a halt. “Ben? What did you tell Izzy?”
Gran’s frown deepened; her ire switched to Ben.
Ben squirmed, looking at his feet. “Alec, um. Alec had a predicament. Izzy happened to
see it. He asked me if it was a rock, or an egg. I said it was neither.”
Gran narrowed her eyes. “You showed him your brother’s knot?”
“No!” Ben covered his face. “I told him not to look! He decided for himself that it was a
rock, and he wanted to tell Alec to take it out. I was horrified.”
Alec wanted to wash out his ears. He hadn’t just heard that. How would he even
respond if Izzy had said that to him? “Gods. What the actual fuck?”
Ben scrubbed his face, looking distraught. “I didn’t want him to say it in front of
everyone, so I interrupted him. I should’ve known that he would bring it up again.”
Ben hunched his shoulders. “He doesn’t know what a knot is. I don’t know how to
explain it to him.”
“So you let him look at it?” Gran shook her cane at Ben.
Alec stepped in front of his omega; Gran’s umbrella jabbed him painfully in the chest.
“It’s not Ben’s fault,” he said. Even if Gran was talking about his knot. Of all things,
Izzy had told Mom and Gran about that.
Gran scrutinized Alec. Alec backed down, trying to look as unthreatening as he could
so she wouldn’t assume he was bad for Izzy. Then Gran pointed her cane between
Alec’s legs, and Alec panicked.
“Gran,” he yelped, covering his crotch with both hands. “Not there!”
“What?” Ben asked, peeking around Alec. Then he yelped, too, reaching out as though
he wanted to help protect Alec’s cock. “Gran!”
“If⁠—I⁠—hear⁠—Izzy⁠—talking⁠—about⁠—this,” Gran said, punctuating every word with a

jab of her walking cane against Alec’s hands, right over where his cock was, “You’ll⁠—
learn⁠—this⁠—the⁠—hard⁠—way.”
Alec paled, backing away. He could take a hit anywhere but there. He still wanted his
cock and balls intact. “Yes, ma’am,” he yelped, his balls shrinking back into his body. “I
promise.”
Gran scowled. At length, she turned away, sniffing disdainfully. “Emma, you should
teach your son better. Honestly, the nerve of him.”
It wasn’t as though Alec meant for anyone to see his knot. He bit down his protests,
meeting Mom’s eyes. Mom shook her head in disappointment. Alec gulped, feeling
guilty.
“I’ll explain knots to Izzy,” Gran said, hobbling out of the bedroom. Then she shut the
door harder than necessary, and Alec winced.
Ben sighed, mumbling into his hands. “I was just trying to protect everyone. Is that so
bad?”
He sagged against Alec’s side, looking so dejected that Alec gathered him into his arms.
Ben stiffened, glancing up. And Alec realized that Mom was still in the room.
“When are you going to tell her?” Mom asked, looking unsurprised.
With growing uncertainty, Alec realized that Mom really did know about them.
“This⁠—This isn’t what it looks like.” Ben squirmed out of Alec’s arms, his ears turning a
bright pink. “I was just, um. Alec is, um.”
“I had an inkling this might happen,” Mom said, stepping closer. She didn’t seem
shocked, or upset, or angry.
Alec’s heart tightened. This could either go really well, or it could go really badly. “You
knew?”
She cracked a smile, the years slipping away from her face. “You spent so much time
together as children. Did you think I didn’t notice?”
Crap. Alec swallowed. Did Mom think the same way Dad did? If they confirmed it,
would she turn on them? “Dad knew, too,” he said, the scars on his ass prickling. “He
was fucking pissed.”
Mom’s face fell. “Yes, he was.”
Ben crept closer to Alec, looking just as uneasy. “So... you aren’t mad at us?”
Mom shook her head, but her smile was bittersweet. “You’ve been happier lately, Ben.
It’s not in my power to stop you from loving who you choose. Dad tried, didn’t he?”
Alec’s throat grew tight. All the years he’d thought he’d kept it a secret... “You knew he
beat me?” And he hated that his voice cracked.
Mom sighed, reaching out hesitantly. “Yes, I knew. I argued with your dad over it. We
came to the compromise that he would not beat you anymore, on the condition that I
did not encourage, or acknowledge, any of it.”
Alec absorbed all of this, trying to digest what she’d said. Mom had known about the
beating. And Dad... Alec had been angry with him. He hadn’t thought there could’ve
been more beatings like the first one, even if he’d kept his feelings a secret. “I spent so
long being scared of Dad,” he muttered. “Scared of just⁠—loving Ben. It’s not like I
could’ve stopped, either way.”
Ben flushed all the way to his hairline. Alec wanted to kiss him, but he held back.
“I’m sorry.” Mom squeezed Alec’s arm. “You were hurting a lot. We had hoped that
you’d grow out of it, but it turns out that you never did. I should have done more.”
Regret flashed through her eyes, and Alec felt an overwhelming sense of forgiveness.
“The rest of our family sees you as brothers, you know. If word gets out... you’ll always
have to keep defending yourself. It’ll get tiring.”
Especially now that Ben was pregnant. “Ben’s mine,” Alec growled. “It’ll be worth it.”
Ben bit his lip, covering his belly with his arm. Mom’s eyes widened.
“I wasn’t being completely truthful when we were snowed in at the cabin,” Ben
admitted, stepping halfway behind Alec as though he was trying to hide. “I said Izzy
and I were with a friend, but... Alec was that friend. Things, um, got complicated.”
He blushed the prettiest shade of pink, and Alec really, really wanted to kiss him.
“Oh.” Mom looked disappointed and uneasy. She glanced at Ben’s abdomen, unable to
hide her wince. That stung.
Alec sighed, pulling Ben back into his arms. “It’s fine if you don’t approve, Mom,” he
said. “It’ll probably be easier for you if you just disown us. Then you won’t have to
fight with the rest of the fam.”
Ben paled. Alec’s stomach twisted. Neither of them wanted to sever this relationship.
Mom gave them a crooked smile, pulling them both into a warm hug. “I won’t do that.
You’re still my sons, you know.”
Mom isn’t disowning us. Relief swelled through Alec’s chest; his eyes burned.
Ben whimpered and blinked hard. “It won’t be easy for you, either,” Ben said tearfully.
“Are you sure?”
Mom kissed his cheek. “Yes, I am. I’m just... worried.”
Despite her acceptance, Alec wasn’t sure this was the right move. Not when they had
Izzy to look out for, not when Gran would throw a fit the moment she discovered this.
Alec wanted to tell Ben that things would turn out fine, that he had the power to make
everything okay, except he’d messed up before. Ben had lived with a bastard of an
alpha for years, and Alec had not rescued him from that. What if he somehow failed
Ben now?
Mom released them, patting Alec on the shoulder. “It won’t be easy,” she said, giving
them a half-smile. “I’ll help when I can.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Alec pulled Ben close, dragging his wrist down Ben’s side.
Just so he had a marking on Ben again.
Mom brightened. “I’m glad.” Then her gaze fell to the love bite on Ben’s neck, and her
eyebrows crawled up. “You know... Maybe you should change the sheets before Gran
and Izzy and I borrow your bed, Alec.”
Ben squawked. “Mom!”
Alec’s face burned. “I didn’t do anything with Ben there!”
Mom smiled, releasing them. “I should check on Gran,” she said. “Hopefully she hasn’t
scarred Izzy too much.”
Then she left the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind her. But she was still their
mom, and she wasn’t leaving in bad spirits.
Ben closed his eyes, flopping against Alec’s chest. “Gods,” he whispered. “I was so
scared.”
Alec swallowed hard. “Yeah. Me, too.”
At least they had someone on their side now. Maybe, if Alec could prove to Mom that
his bonding with Ben could work... Maybe she would be happier about this. And
maybe, if everyone else looked down on them, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much.
Alec cupped Ben’s face, capturing his lips in a slow, sweet kiss. Ben gasped, yanking
himself away. He glanced surreptitiously at the door. “What if someone sees?”
“Gran isn’t coming back upstairs so soon,” Alec said. “We’d hear her bumping into
Mom, right? It’s only Izzy who’s scampering around.”
Ben drew a deep breath, slowly relaxing back into Alec’s arms. “I guess.”
Alec kissed him for real, just savoring Ben as his omega, having Ben in his arms. Ben
opened for him, melting against Alec’s chest, so pliant and inviting that Alec wanted to
bring him to bed and tuck him in, and make sweet love to him. Their very first time in
this house. Alec wanted to consummate this bonding in every single room, he wanted
to make this home truly theirs.
That was, if things could work out. With how much they were still hiding, Alec wasn’t
sure they could.
“C’mon, let’s get this room clean,” he murmured against Ben’s lips. “You’re sharing the
spare bed with me tonight.”
Ben shivered, his eyes darkening. “It’ll be a tight fit.”
Alec couldn’t help smiling; his blood heated up. “Which tight fit are we talking about,
Benny? The bed? Or...” He reached down and slipped his fingers between Ben’s thighs,
rubbing him there.
Ben flushed. And Alec didn’t need an answer at all.

⁠
B EN WASN ’ T in the bakery’s work area when Alec stepped in. In fact, the whole of Ben’s
Buns was empty. Alec hesitated, uneasy. “Benny?”
“Here,” Ben said faintly from somewhere.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Alec stepped through the door with the “Staff Only” sign,
following the trail of flour to the bakery’s restroom. There, he found Ben crouched next
to the toilet, one arm around his stomach. Alec’s chest tightened. “Ben!”
“I’m fine.” Ben spat into the toilet. “Just feeling sick.”
Then he heaved again, and Alec’s insides clenched. He gathered Ben into his arms,
rubbing his back, brushing Ben’s hair away from his face. “It’s been a month, huh?”
A month since Theo’s wedding, a month since they were snowed in, and Alec kissed
Ben.
Ben nodded, clutching at the toilet, his face green. “I remember this part of Izzy’s
pregnancy,” he muttered. “It was not good.”
Alec rubbed slow circles over the small of his back, guilty that Ben had to suffer
through this. Except... the morning sickness meant that there really was a life growing
in Ben’s belly. A baby, a child that Alec had given him. Alec fought down the tendril of
panic in his chest. Ben’s pregnant. With our baby. That was enough to make him dizzy.
Through the past couple weeks, Alec had been getting used to having Izzy around.
He’d been chatting with Izzy, he’d been listening to Izzy talk about school and snakes
and Caleb. It was still manageable, because Izzy wasn’t truly Alec’s.
Increasingly, Alec had been wondering what it would feel like, if Izzy called him Dad.
He liked the idea, and it also made him uneasy. Being Uncle Alec was one thing, but
being Dad... What if Alec screwed up? What if he made Izzy furious, just like Alec had
resented his own father? Because Dad had done what he thought was right?
“I’m here,” Alec told Ben anyway. “Tell me what I can do.”
Ben huffed. “There isn’t much you can do, Alec. I can’t avoid the morning sickness.”
He threw up again, panting and sweating, his limbs shaking with the strain. Alec
wished he could do something to alleviate Ben’s discomfort. He filled a disposable cup
with water, handing it to Ben. Ben accepted it with murmured thanks, rinsing out his
mouth.
When Ben felt well enough to stand, he was still wobbly, and there were dark circles
under his eyes. Alec’s heart sank. “You look terrible.”
Ben flinched.
“Shit, no. I didn’t mean it that way.” Crap, crap. What do I do? “You look like you need
more sleep. Do you still feel tired?”
Ben nodded. “It’s fine. I need to get back to work.”
The pregnancy fatigue had been plaguing him lately. Ben sometimes felt too tired to get
out of bed, except he forced himself to. No one worked as consistently at the bakery as
he did.
On his work days, Ben got up in the wee hours of the morning to prep the kitchen. One
of his employees had canceled today; Ben had taken a cab down to the bakery, long
before Alec had woken up. It was 4AM now. And Alec had nothing but respect for his
omega.
“Tell you what,” Alec said. “Why don’t I be your arms and legs? You tell me what to
do, I’ll do them.”
Ben cracked a smile. “Are you sure? I’m picky about the way these buns are baked.”
Alec gave him a look. “I’m perfectly capable of putting a bun in your oven, aren’t I?”
Ben choked, dissolving into helpless laughter. “Alec!”
Alec kissed him, glad that he’d made his Benny smile. “So, tell me. What do I do first?”
Ben had him measure sugar and butter into an industrial-sized mixer. While that was
going, Alec moved the pastry dough from the fridge. The racks were pretty damn
heavy, he had to admit.
“Get me a stool,” Ben said. “I’ll work on the dough-forming myself.”
Alec fetched a worn stool over, trying to help Ben measure out the proportions of
dough. Next to him, Ben sliced off some dough, twisting it deftly into a braid.
“How do you tell how much you’ve got?” Alec asked, trying to estimate his own
portion. The lumps of dough all looked like they weighed the same.
Ben laughed. “By experience. I’ve been at this a lot longer than you have, Alec.”
Alec frowned, placing Ben’s dough-ball on the scale. Sure enough, the dough weighed
an ounce⁠—exactly what Ben had specified.
“That’s unreal,” Alec said. “And incredible. You’re incredible.”
Ben grinned. “I’ve had a lot of practice, Alec. I’m not special.”
“Yes, you are.” Alec kissed him; Ben flushed, beaming with delight.
They readied trays upon trays of dough, before Ben rolled the rack into the gigantic
oven, and shut the door. Then they got to work on the next batch of buns.
“You’ve got some powdered sugar on your nose,” Alec said some time later, when he
looked up.
Ben blinked, going cross-eyed when he tried to look at his nose. He was adorable. Alec
grinned and leaned in, licking the sugar off his skin.
“We aren’t supposed to do that,” Ben protested. “Hygiene comes first.”
“At least I’m not licking you all over,” Alec pointed out. But he did flick his tongue
against the corner of Ben’s mouth.
“Alec,” Ben squawked, biting down his smile.
Alec tried to look innocent. “It’s not like you’re using your mouth on any of your buns.”
“Well, no.” Ben grinned. “I wouldn’t want to.”
“What about my buns?”
Ben blinked. “You... want me to kiss your butt?”
Alec thought about it. “Sure, why not? But I think it’ll be better if I kiss yours.”
Ben smiled, shaking his head exasperatedly. “Sometimes, I don’t know how to answer
you.”
“I like that I make you speechless.” Alec winked. “Especially in bed.”
Ben flushed, ducking his head to hide his smile. Alec grinned. He had been stealing
Ben’s words out of his mouth. Mid-sentence, sometimes even before Ben said them.
Now that Mom, Gran, and Izzy all had their own rooms, Ben sneaked into the master
bedroom more often than not. Sometimes, Alec found Ben in his bed. Sometimes, when
he lifted the covers, he found his omega waiting for him, Ben’s ass pushed up into the
air, completely naked.
Alec was getting very, very good at silencing Ben’s moans.
Later, when most of the buns were arranged prettily in the display racks, Ben went to
tend the register. Alec poked around the store, admiring the cheeky details Ben had
worked into the displays.
Ben’s Buns was a very special bakery⁠—not only because it was Ben’s, but because of the
sheer number of butt references Ben had saturated the place with.
Butt-shaped buns framed the entrance to the shop. The moment you stepped in, you
found yourself standing on a large floor painting of a bun, shaped like a very cute ass.
Butt-shaped lamps hung from the ceilings, and even the trays the customers used to
select their buns⁠—those were shaped like bottoms, too. Alec traced his fingers over the
custom-made handles on the acrylic display doors; the handles, too, were shaped like
butts.
It was all so innocently mischievous, and it made him smile every time.
The bell jingled when someone stepped in. Alec glanced up. “Sorry, Ben’s Buns is not
open yet⁠—Oh, Ollie! You’re early today.”
“Sorry, I needed some coffee. Do you have any ready?” Olivier Lancaster waved,
ushering in two sleepy, bundled-up children. He was an omega, small like Ben was,
except Ben was prettier. “Wow, it sure smells good in here.”
Alec breathed in the scents of coffee and freshly-baked bread, his stomach growling.
“Hang on, I’ll check.”
He wandered over to the coffee machine⁠—Ben had already started the drip process.
“Almost ready. Why don’t you grab breakfast in the meantime?”
Ollie beamed, his gaze wandering over the buns in the display cases, all bathed in
golden light. “I can never decide which I want. They’re all so delicious. Jenn, Taylor,
what would you like for breakfast?”
His daughter yawned, pointing at one of the display cases. “The butt pizza!”
His son, Taylor, squinted, pressing his nose against a case of donuts.
Contrary to its theme, not all of the buns in the bakery were butt-shaped. There were
the various twin tarts, of course, and the butt-buns⁠—buns that had fused together while
baking. There were pretzels shaped like bottoms, and butt-shaped rolls sprinkled with
powdered sugar, or rainbow rice, so they looked like they’d pulled shorts on. Then
there were the individual fruit tarts, the chocolate Swiss rolls, and the strawberry
croissants, for people who wanted something less cheeky.
“I’ll get a strawberry roll for Levi, too,” Ollie said to himself, setting the various buns on
his tray. “We’re trying to get a head-start on inventory this year.”
Ollie was the owner of Olivier’s Stings, the music shop next to Ben’s Buns. Ben had told
Alec about the times he’d dropped Izzy off at Ollie’s shop, where Ollie and his assistant,
Levi, ran an informal childcare in the backroom. In exchange, Ben took on childcare
duties when he could, and he ran coffee and food over to the music shop at mealtimes.
“Ollie!” Ben bustled out of the kitchen, drying his hands on his apron. “I didn’t think
you’d be here so early.”
Ollie gave him a hug, smiling. Then he raised his eyebrows. “So is Alec going to be one
of your bakery assistants? I’m sure seeing him around a lot these days.”
Ben exchanged a look with Alec, a flush crawling up his neck. “Um. Alec already has a
job at the fire station.”
“I have two days off between my duty days.” Alec winked. “Pretty sure I can help out
sometimes.”
“That’s a lot to ask,” Ben yelped.
“You’ll need help sooner or later, won’t you?” Alec glanced at Ben’s belly, and Ollie’s
smile grew.
“You know about Ben’s pregnancy?” Olivier asked slyly.
Ben blushed further. He’d introduced Alec as his alpha⁠—to his staff, and to Olivier and
Levi.
“I’ve been helping Ben put some buns in his oven,” Alec answered.
Ollie’s smile widened. Ben groaned, hiding his face.
“Enough with the oven jokes,” Ben mumbled.
“I’d like everyone to know you’re mine,” Alec growled, slipping his arm around Ben’s
waist. “Ben Miller, best baker in the history of the universe, and also Alec’s bondmate.”
Ben turned a bright pink. Alec hadn’t given him an actual bonding mark, but he’d been
thinking about it increasingly often. Enough that he’d caught himself nuzzling the scent
gland on Ben’s neck, raking his teeth over it.
“You’ve bonded?” Ollie glanced at the silvery scar on Ben’s neck, from William. Then
he glanced at Ben’s wrists, but he didn’t pry too much. “Congrats!”
That was awkward. “No, we haven’t,” Alec said. “That’s from his ex.”
Ben squirmed, looking like he wanted to duck back into the work area.
“Oh.” Ollie frowned. “Why haven’t you? Anyone can see that you’re head-over-heels
for each other.”
Alec kept silent. That was something Ben had to explain to his friend. Ben fidgeted
harder. “Because,” Ben said. “Um, family. They won’t like that Alec and I are together.”
Ollie leaned in, concerned. “Why not?”
“We’re stepbrothers,” Alec said cautiously. Ollie could judge them, too.
Ollie blinked. Then he cracked a smile, laughing to himself.
“It’s not funny,” Ben wailed.
Ollie sobered a little. “No, it’s not funny,” he agreed. “But there’s something I haven’t
told you. Eric’s actually my stepbrother. And if you head over to Wy’s Drive-In over by
the highway, Wy’s married to his stepbrother, too. He’ll love it if you guys visit. Tell
him I sent you.”
Alec’s thoughts whirled. There were other pairs of stepbrothers around. Stepbrothers
who had gotten married. “Really? Your alpha’s also...”
Ollie gave a wry smile. “It’s not public knowledge. But Eric and I have probably been
through the same things you have.” He reached over, squeezing Ben’s hand. “Come
over anytime for a chat. I’ll listen.”
Ben gave a wobbly smile, pulling Ollie into a hug. Alec looked at the wedding band on
Ollie’s finger, wondering about the sort of opposition Ollie and his stepbrother must’ve
faced.
“It’s legal?” Alec asked, his pulse picking up. Before this, he’d joked about marriage,
never even dreaming that it could be a real thing.
“Sure it is.” Ollie grinned. “Are you going to get a ring?”
“Ollie,” Ben squawked, turning red.
Alec swallowed. He couldn’t breathe, suddenly. He really wanted to get Ben a ring.
And propose. And put it on Ben’s finger.
But before he could do that, he needed to prove himself worthy of Ben’s hand in
marriage. He had to get Ben’s bakery out of debt. Alec turned back to the kitchen,
needing to do more. The sooner he got this fixed, the sooner he could propose.
“What’re you doing?” Ben asked.
“Helping,” Alec said.
Ben stepped out of Ollie’s arms, following Alec into the kitchen. He frowned. “You
have a strange look on your face.”
“Yeah?” Alec pulled out his phone, where he already had the bakery’s expenditures
laid out in spreadsheets. “What look?”
“Like... like you’re about to do something.” Ben eyed him suspiciously. “Something’s
gotten into you. You aren’t seriously thinking about the marriage thing, are you?”
Alec grinned. “And if I am?”
Ben gulped. “You know we can’t.”
Yeah, Alec knew. There were several reasons. But he really did want to solve Ben’s
problems. “Let me crunch the numbers, Benny. I’ll fix this.”
Ben squirmed. “You’ve been trying to fix this for a while. Is it going to work this time?”
Alec scrolled through the costs they’d been trying to cut, hovering at the expenditures
on the Thursday Butterflies.
Ben’s eyes widened. “You won’t make me stop the butterflies, will you?”
The Thursday Butterflies were a charity project. Every Thursday, without fail, Ben
would set up a small table outside his bakery, and he’d give a butterfly-shaped bun to
any child who stepped up. Those buns varied from week to week, and Alec had
realized that Ben spent more on those buns than he should⁠—he used better ingredients,
he made sure they were tasty, and nutritious for the children who ate them.
Because Ben still remembered the times they’d starved as children, back when Dad had
lost his job.
It probably wasn’t the only reason why Ben was in debt, but those butterflies did, in
part, contribute to Ben’s problems. By focusing on those buns, Ben sometimes forgot to
consider the rest of the things he needed to run a business. Maybe he could save more if
he bought more ingredients in bulk. Maybe he wasn’t running the right ads for the
bakery. Maybe some of his existing ads cost too much.
Maybe Alec just needed to run one really special ad, something that would make an
impact. Something that would stick in people’s minds.
Alec looked around the bakery, an idea forming in his mind. It was risky, and
expensive. If it failed... it would put Ben’s entire business in jeopardy, everything Ben
had worked so hard for. And Ben would break worse than Alec had ever seen.
Part of Alec said he shouldn’t even suggest it. Ben was more important than his bakery.
But the bakery was Ben’s life and soul, and continuing to accumulate debt wasn’t a
long-term solution. What if it fails, and I lose him? Unease crept down Alec’s veins.
“Ben,” Alec began, a little nervous. “I have an idea. Do you think you’d trust me on
this?”
⁠
F OR THE HUNDREDTH TIME , Ben ran the TV ad through his mind. On the surface, it
seemed like the perfect way to help the bakery: it opened with close-ups of the bakery’s
best products. The buns would slide away to form a border, and the ad would show
children queuing up to receive their butterfly buns. The camera would zoom into the
bakery and pan over the butt-shaped decorations and breads, and at the end of the ad,
there would be a few of Ben’s Bun’s signature buns, the cheekiest, most popular ones
that his customers loved.
It showcased the best he had to offer, and it also put the most controversial parts of the
bakery on display⁠—the buns. Since its opening, Ben had encountered a few
disapproving people, who told him that he should close the bakery. Then there were
the alphas who tried to hit on him, because they thought that, by making bum-shaped
breads, Ben was looking for a bed partner.
The person he was most afraid of, though, was William.
Alec had given Ben the choice to be absent from the ad. It could feature only the buns
and the children. But Ben agreed with Alec that, with his appearance, he would make
the ad more personal and human. It would stay in people’s minds for longer.
Ben only hoped that, if William happened to see the ad, it wouldn’t bring him back. He
didn’t need the violence again. He didn’t want Alec to see how terribly he could be
broken. He didn’t want William to take Izzy away. Those thoughts sent a constant
stream of ice sliding down his spine.
“Ben?” Alec asked.
Ben blinked himself back to the present, feeling like he’d just woken up for the second
time that day. He was with Alec and Gran and Izzy, who had run forward a little ways.
They were on a walk around Alec’s neighborhood. And Gran’s grocery bag was now
full of plant clippings.
“Ah, that’s a beautiful one,” Gran said as they approached a tall leafy bush with purple
flowers. Some of the branches had grown high overhead, out of Ben’s reach. “Pull that
one down for me, Alec.”
“This one?” Alec grasped a vine easily.

Gran frowned. “No, no. This one has wrinkled leaves on it. You have to reach higher.
Get the ones with no wrinkled leaves.”
Alec tried again. Gran shook her head. So he tried again. And Gran rejected that branch,
too. On Alec’s fifth try, Gran finally nodded, pulling out a set of giant clippers from her
apron. Then she clipped off a plant segment, and tucked it into her grocery bag.
Ben’s face grew hot. “Gran! We’re not supposed to be snipping plants from other
people’s gardens!”
“Psh.” Gran waved dismissively. “The plants should be trimmed for healthy growth.
We’re helping them.”
And she continued walking, as though her bag of clippings wasn’t literally daylight
robbery.
Ben groaned, slumping. Alec glanced at him. “You okay?”
Ben shrugged. “I guess. I just... don’t want to be caught. Your neighbors won’t like us,
Alec.”
Alec took half a step back from Gran, tangling their fingers together behind her back.
His warmth soaked into Ben’s skin, a whisper of comfort that Ben clung to. “It’ll be
fine,” Alec said.
“You’re so sure,” Ben mumbled.
“Yeah, I am.” Alec gave a reassuring smile, which helped a little.
Gran tripped over a stone on the sidewalk, swearing. Ben’s heart stopped. He grabbed
her, at the same time Alec did. “Are you okay?” Ben yelped.
“Yes, yes. I am.” Gran waved them off. “Don’t worry about me.”
But Ben couldn’t help keeping an eye on her⁠—she could walk more easily now, but it
didn’t erase the fact that she’d fractured her hip not so long ago.
“Here, hold on to my arm,” Alec said, offering her his elbow. “It’ll help.”
Gran smiled, patting Alec’s arm. “See, Ben, you should find an alpha just like Alec.”
Alec coughed lightly. Ben choked on his spit, falling behind so he could clear his throat.
If only you knew, Gran.
When Alec turned, he mouthed, Alpha like me?

Ben frowned. Then it occurred to him that they’d never tested the waters with Gran.
Maybe run the idea by her. If Ben suggested it... could she be convinced like Mom was?
His heart swelling with hope, Ben caught up to Gran, asking lightly, “What if I took
Alec as my alpha?”
Alec’s eyebrows rose. Gran frowned and smacked Ben’s arm. “What nonsense is that?
Think before you speak, Ben.”
Ben tried to swallow his disappointment. “But you just said, ‘Find an alpha like Alec.’
Why not Alec himself?”
Gran’s scowl deepened. “He’s your brother!”
“Stepbrother,” Alec clarified, his gaze darkening.
“It’s the same!” Gran clucked her tongue, waving dismissively at Ben. “How did you
get such strange thoughts in your head?”
“Who knows?” Ben shrugged, his heart sinking. Maybe they needed to find another
way to convince her. Ben didn’t want to think about the possibility that she wouldn’t
change her mind at all.
“Ben and I aren’t related by blood,” Alec said, giving Ben a hot look. “So technically, he
and I aren’t family, right?”
Gran smacked him, too. “Watch your mouth, Alec.”
“I’m watching it very carefully,” Alec said dryly.
Gran smacked him again.
Ben sighed, looking at his feet. Maybe things wouldn’t work out with Gran, after all.
“I’ll help you watch Alec’s mouth. It’s a very bad mouth.” That was absolutely the
truth.
Alec snorted, cracking a smile. Then he crooked his finger at Ben, and Ben hurried over
to Alec’s other side. Alec caught Ben’s arm, pulling him closer. His breath feathered hot
against Ben’s ear. “Stop saying things that make me want to kiss you,” Alec whispered.
Ben’s entire body tingled; he wanted that kiss. “Alec!”
Then he glanced over, and saw Gran frowning at them. Ben gulped, his heart pattering.
If Gran disapproved so much of Ben and Alec, what about the rest of their family?
Would it wear Mom down? What about Alec?
Would Alec eventually leave, because of how much pressure he’d face? Was it right for
Ben to keep Alec by his side?
Reluctantly, Ben wriggled out of Alec’s grasp. “Maybe later,” he said, sneaking a peek
at Alec’s full lips. They had all of tonight, and tomorrow, too. Ben could wait a little
longer for a kiss.
A WEEK LATER , they hit Launch on the ads. Ben hid in the work area of his bakery, his
heart pounding, his palms sweating.
Alec hadn’t said it outright, but he’d been concerned about the ad, too. He’d told Ben
that there was a chance this could fail. That it could attract attention Ben didn’t want.
Ben knew it. He was aware of the risks. But Alec had looked so hopeful, that Ben had
told him to go ahead.
They’d spent a couple of afternoons last week with a film crew in the bakery, with
bright studio lights and big cameras and far more people looking at Ben than he was
comfortable with. They’d filmed the buns falling lightly onto a rotating table, their
sugar glazes glistening against a dark backdrop. Then they’d filmed Ben giving away
the butterflies to some children. When the clips were edited and the crew invited them
to preview the ad, Ben had been blown away by how beautiful it all looked.
It was a good ad. The subject, though... Ben wasn’t so sure of.
A day passed since the launch. Then another day, with more customers than the first.
Some were new patrons, some were old ones who hadn’t been back in a while. Alec
stayed with Ben the first couple days since he wasn’t on duty then.
Ever so slowly, the passing time took the edge off Ben’s anxiety.
It was on a day when Alec was on station duty, that an older couple stepped into the
bakery. They wrinkled their noses, and Ben sighed, steeling himself for the
conversation. He’d done this a few times by now. It was still draining every single time.
The couple surveyed the shop, their gazes locking onto Ben. Then the man stepped
forward. “You are Ben Miller?”
“Yes.” Despite his sinking heart, Ben forced himself to keep smiling. “How may I help
you?”
The man glanced at the butt-shaped bread drawings stuck onto the register, his
expression turning into one of repulsion. “You should shut down this bakery. It harms
our children.”
Ben shoved down the instinctive anger and dread that rose through his gut. His bakery
didn’t harm children. It was the children who cheered up whenever they saw the
bakery, because of how simple and fun it was. Izzy always told Ben how the kids at
school envied him⁠—even when he didn’t have an alpha dad⁠—because Ben turned
Izzy’s drawings into actual buns, and sold them. Even Caleb had asked if he could draw
a butt-bun for the bakery.
“Have you asked the children what they think?” Ben asked. His entire body bristled
with tension. “Do they wish for it to be shut down?”
“Of course they do,” the man’s wife said. “The breads here are sick. How can you
expect to sell them to children?”
Children were the ones who talked about farts and poop and burps and butts. The
bakery was just an extension of that. “I’ll consider your suggestion,” Ben said, his face
turning sore with how much he forced himself to keep smiling. He wanted to yell and
tell them to go fuck off. He wanted to show them how much the children liked his
breads, because it was damn annoying to keep silent when you knew you were right.
Instead, he kept his voice level⁠—a knife edge of control. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Shut this down immediately.” The man sniffed haughtily, turning away. His wife
followed him out of the door, and Ben almost wished the door would kick their asses,
just a little. It would at least make this funnier.
The moment they disappeared from sight, his anger dissipated. Maybe Ben was
stressed, or depressed, or something. He breathed out the sting from the couple’s
words, closing his eyes.
Vic stepped out of the kitchen with a tray of freshly-baked buns. “Another of those,
huh?”
Ben shook his head, rubbing his temples. “I wish they’d just go away. It’s just asses, for
heaven’s sake. And they aren’t even customers.”
“Take a break,” Vic said reassuringly, setting a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’ll handle
this.”
Ben smiled wanly at his assistant, his heart heavy. Would there ever be an end to these
naysayers? Somehow, he didn’t think so. “Thanks.”
He left his apron on, slipping out through the backdoor to where the staff parking was.
It was mid-afternoon, just a couple more hours to closing. Then Ben would pick Izzy up
from school, and they’d go home. Home sounded very good right now.
He stepped away from the bakery door, walking along the row of back entrances. Ben
rolled his shoulders, trying not to think about anything.
Footsteps thudded behind him, slow and deliberate. Ben’s skin prickled. Something
didn’t feel right. Then someone said, “Benjamin,” in that grating, oily voice, and Ben’s
stomach plummeted to his feet. William.
He whirled around, all the scars on his arms hurting at the same time. Paces away,
William Shakerley smiled, his hands in his pockets, his cruel, ugly face far too close for
comfort.
Years after their divorce, William was still bigger and stronger than Ben was. Ben
remembered those vicious hands, he remembered the times William had slammed him
against the wall and yanked on his hair. Right now, William could reach out, he could
stab a knife into Ben’s arm and carve it open. Ben’s heart squeezed tight.
William smiled. “What, aren’t you happy to see me?”
This was bad. Ben couldn’t breathe. He backed against the walls, hoping desperately
that someone would step out of one of the back entrances, so he wasn’t alone with
William. If no one was looking, there was a chance that William could grab him, and
slam him into the brick. “Wh-What do you want?”
“I had some spare time. Just thought I’d check up on you.” William advanced on him,
exactly the way a predator stalked its prey.
“Did your latest omega dump you, too?” Ben hissed, backing away.
William ignored him. “Looks like you’ve been doing well. I even saw your fancy ad.”
The dread in Ben’s gut intensified. I knew he’d see it. He’d known this was a risk. Alec
had promised to be around just in case, but Alec was at work right now. And Ben was
alone with his abuser. Don’t show him you’re scared. “I have no use for you.”
“Oh?” William smirked. “You always said that, but you always came crying back to
me.”
Ben hated that it was the truth. “I have an alpha now.” His voice shook.
William raised an eyebrow. Then his nostrils flared, and Ben wished he’d worn Alec’s
marking to the shop. He’d refrained this morning, when Gran was puttering around the
house. And now Ben smelled like nothing. He smelled unprotected.
William’s smile grew dangerous. “If you really have an alpha, then why isn’t he here?”
“He’s busy,” Ben spat.
“Tell me where he is,” William said. “I’ll have a chat with him.”
Except Alec didn’t know him like Ben did. He wouldn’t expect William to pull out a
knife, and stab him when he wasn’t looking. Ben’s blood chilled. “He shouldn’t bother
with a low-life like you.”
“Really? Maybe he isn’t here because he doesn’t have time for you.” William advanced,
his repulsive boxwood scent filling Ben’s nose. Ben wanted to gag. “Or is he away
because he has higher priorities than some omega who’s just scraping by? Nothing’s
changed, Ben. You’re still as pathetic as when I left.”
Ben’s heart squeezed. He hated that William was right. That he was still in debt, that
after all the years they’d separated, Ben was still struggling to get back onto his feet.
When Alec thought about Ben... was that what he saw? Was that why he tried to help?
Because Ben wasn’t good enough?
“You don’t have a bonding mark.” William’s eyes gleamed⁠—he’d learned something.
And now he was going to use it against Ben. “You don’t even have your alpha’s scent,
or a ring. That isn’t bonding.”
“It’s by choice,” Ben snapped.
“Really.” William looked thoughtful. “Are you sure he wants to give you a bonding
mark? When you’ll only drag him down with your debt? Have you even made back the
money you spent on our divorce?”
No, Ben hadn’t done that at all. His heart sank. “It’s none of your business.”
William smiled⁠—he’d heard the truth in Ben’s voice anyway. “Sooner or later, he’ll see
what a drain you are. Tell me, did that ad actually work? Did your nice alpha spend all
that hard-earned money, hoping it’ll turn your business around? I don’t see so many
people showing up. Some ad it turned out to be. You’ll end up failing him, won’t you?
You’ll prove to him like you proved to me, that you’re a little spineless coward who
keeps begging for handouts.”
Ben faltered. He wanted to stuff his fingers into his ears. He wanted to stop hearing all
that William had to say⁠—William enjoyed bringing people to their knees. William liked
to find people’s insecurities, and break them from there. Years later, this hadn’t
changed. So Ben shouldn’t be susceptible to it anymore, except he still was. “Why are
you here?” he croaked. “I’m not getting back together with you.”
William raked his eyes down Ben’s body. Ben recoiled in disgust. “I was merely
curious,” William said. “You’re such a pleasure to have around. I wonder if your alpha
really thinks the same.”
Then he turned and left, and Ben hugged himself, William’s words ringing in his mind.
Yes, Ben was struggling. Yes, he’d used a bunch of Alec’s money, and that wasn’t even
for the pregnancy.
At what point would Alec realize that he needed to cut his losses? Or would Ben drain
all of Alec’s savings before Alec realized it was too late?
Ben struggled back into the bakery, trying not to cry. He hated that William had shown
up. But more than that, he hated that he couldn’t prove William wrong. That he was
still struggling, that at some point, maybe he would drag Alec down with him.
Maybe I shouldn’t let Alec stick around. Ben scrubbed his face, thinking about the beautiful
house Alec lived in, that he was still paying off. He thought about Alec spending long
hours at the fire station, working an upstanding job. No one ever told Alec that the fire
station should be shut down. No one ever questioned whether Alec’s services were
necessary. If Alec took Ben as his omega, that would change. Alec would face all the
judgments he didn’t deserve. It would be Ben’s fault for allowing it to happen.
Ben shrank into himself, feeling small and useless. Alec would be better off if he found
someone else. If that person wasn’t part of their family. Alec could find an omega who
was already thriving on his own two feet, and he wouldn’t have to put in hours of
scrolling through spreadsheets trying to save a leaking ship. This can’t go on.
The worst thing was, Ben was starting to get an idea how he could fix all of this. It was
the most terrible idea he’d ever had. And things would get better for Alec after that.
⁠
A LEC WOKE to someone struggling in his arms. He sucked in a lungful of daisy,
opening his eyes. “Benny?”
Ben writhed against Alec’s chest. “No, no,” he whimpered. His eyes were scrunched
shut, his lips pulled downward⁠—he was trapped in a nightmare.
“Benny.” Alec’s heart sank. He grasped Ben’s arms, shaking him gently. “Wake up.”
“Don’t.” Ben whined, yanking his arm back like he’d thought he’d get hurt. “Don’t,
please.”
Then he gave a frightened whimper, and Alec’s heart cracked. “Ben!” He sat up, pulling
Ben with him. When that didn’t work, Alec got out of bed and yanked the blackout
curtains aside, so sunlight flooded the room. Ben thrashed on the bed.
Alec returned to Ben, gathering him in his arms. He tried not to hug Ben too tightly.
Instead, he kissed Ben’s face, squeezing his hip. “It’s not real,” Alec said. “Wake up!”
Ben’s eyes flew open. He sucked in a shaky breath, glancing around in a panic. “No,
where⁠—”
“It’s a nightmare.” Alec slowly slid his arms around Ben, his heart aching. He hated
when Ben had nightmares⁠—and Ben had been having them a lot more lately. “You’re
safe now. It’s fine.”
Ben shook, meeting Alec’s eyes. Recognition flickered in his gaze. Then he cowered
against Alec, his entire body trembling. “Oh.”
“Shh.” Alec kissed his forehead. He kissed Ben’s ear, down his neck, and his scent
gland, too. He took Ben’s hand, stroking his palm, down his fingers. “It’s okay. You’re
safe with me.”
Ben whimpered, glancing around like he thought something might spring out and
attack him. Then he buried his face against Alec’s neck, and quivered for a long
moment.
“Want to tell me about it?” Alec rumbled.
Ben shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Ben shrugged, his nails biting into Alec’s skin. He wasn’t okay. But at least he wasn’t
stuck in that awful nightmare anymore. Alec stroked his back, kissing everywhere he
could reach.
“I promise that things will get better,” Alec whispered.
At the back of his mind, he wondered if he should pull out the gift he’d bought for Ben.
It was something he’d deliberated over⁠—he wasn’t sure it was the right gift, and he’d
gotten it in a couple of different colors, just in case Ben didn’t like one of them.
Then there was that other gift. The one that had arrived in a velvet-lined box. That gift
had been even more of an impulse purchase.
After a long moment, Ben straightened, scrubbing his face. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Alec kissed him on the lips, morning breath and all. Ben cracked a smile. That was the
most beautiful sight Alec had seen all morning. So he kissed Ben, again and again, until
Ben relaxed into his arms, a smile lighting his face. He was so beautiful.
I love you, Alec wanted to say. He wanted to shower Ben with all his love, except Ben
was hesitant to receive it.
“Let’s go get some breakfast,” Alec whispered, brushing his fingers through Ben’s hair.
“Just me and you.”
“Okay,” Ben said. And then his phone rang.
Alec hated the ringtone Ben had chosen. It was jarring, loud, and it meant someone else
was stealing Ben’s attention away from him. Ben sent him an apologetic look, crawling
across the bed to get it. That phone was still all cracked-up and taped-together; Ben
hadn’t allowed Alec to replace it.
“Vic?” Ben frowned, pressing the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”
Whatever Vic said, it made the color drain from Ben’s face. All of Ben’s joy evaporated,
and he looked shaken, suddenly. He met Alec’s eyes, looking as though someone had
just kicked several puppies. Alarm rang in Alec’s mind.
“O-oh. I’ll be right there.” Ben ended the call, his breathing coming fast and shallow.
“What happened?” Alec reached over, stroking his thumb over the scent gland on Ben’s
wrist. This better not be because of the ad. It better not. “Is it bad?”
Ben swayed, biting his lip. “There’s a crowd of protesters outside the bakery. I have to
go.”
Alec’s heart sank. “Protesters? Who would hate a bakery that much?”
Ben shrugged. His phone buzzed. When he opened the message, it was an image file⁠—
Vic had sent a photo of some people outside Ben’s Buns, holding up protest signs.
Alec’s stomach twisted. “Where did they come from?”
“I don’t know.”
They stared at the photo. Then a video popped up⁠—footage of the protesters chanting,
“Down with Ben’s Buns.”
Ben stared. Then he played it again, his hands trembling. Alec wanted to step into the
video and yell at them all to go away. Who even did shit like that?
Vic sent another message. The customers have been leaving ever since those guys showed up.
Next to Alec, Ben had gone completely silent. He stared at his phone, his expression
growing from anxious to hopeless, to a sort of resignation that chilled Alec. The
nagging guilt dug deeper into his heart. He was the one who had encouraged Ben to do
the ad. He was the one who’d told Ben it would help the bakery.
Alec had fucked up, really badly.
“It’ll... blow over,” Ben said, but he didn’t sound certain at all.
Alec couldn’t drag his eyes away from the video. Or the text. “I’ll fix it,” he said, his
heart pattering. “I’ll get a better ad to help it recover, I’ll invest in better ingredients.
I’ll⁠—”
“No,” Ben said, his voice tight. “No, Alec. Just stop.”
“I can’t do that.” Alec frowned. “I started it. I’ll fix it.”
He stood, pacing back and forth, trying to think of a better solution. Ben shook his head,
his knuckles turning white against his phone. “No. You’ve done enough. Please.”
Ben was agitated. Alec tried to pull him into a hug, except Ben wouldn’t meet his eyes.
That made all of Alec’s nerves jangle; Ben hadn’t been this closed-off around him
before. How do I calm him down?
Then he thought of an answer⁠—the gift. Because it was something Ben would like.
Because Ben liked babies.
“Be right back,” Alec breathed, pulling on his sleeping shorts. He hurried out of the
bedroom, to where he’d stashed the gift downstairs.
He’d kept the baby clothes in a white cloth bag, hiding it at the very top of a kitchen
cabinet so Gran couldn’t reach it. Next to it was the tiny velvet box. Alec wasn’t sure it
would help, but he grabbed it, too.
On the way back to the stairs, he almost crashed into Gran.
“Alec,” Gran chided, frowning deeply. “Don’t scare me like that! What’s the big rush?
And will you put on some clothes before you run around the house?”
“No time.” Alec sprinted down the hallway. “Sorry.”
“Hey,” Gran said. “You dropped⁠—”
Alec was back inside the bedroom in seconds. Ben was halfway off the bed, typing
anxiously into his phone.
“Ben.” Alec sat on the mattress next to him. “I got you a gift.”
His heart thumped. It wasn’t the most appropriate time to distract his omega with this,
but Alec hoped it would help cheer Ben up somewhat. Ben tore his gaze away from the
phone, his chest bare, the sheets draped across his naked hips⁠—so perfect. Alec handed
the cloth bag over.
Ben frowned. “What’s this?”
“Just open it,” Alec whispered. “Tell me if you like it.”
Ben set his phone down and reached into the bag, pulling out a flat, square present. His
brow wrinkled; he picked the tape off the wrapping paper, reaching inside. Then he
pulled out the tiny onesies. The moment he realized what they were, his eyes grew
wide.
“You like them?” Alec’s breath hitched. “I got the striped one because you like blue. But
if that shade isn’t your favorite, the gray one’s supposed to look like a rock⁠—”
Ben whimpered, staring at the onesies. He looked emotional for a second. Then his face
fell, and he pushed them back at Alec. “I can’t⁠—I can’t accept them.”
“Why not?” Alec frowned and took the gray onesie, holding it up. “You don’t like
them? Did I buy the wrong size?”
“No, you didn’t.” Ben’s face crumpled. “I just...”
He looked so miserable, that Alec lowered the onesie, leaning in to kiss him softly on
the lips. Ben sniffled, his breath puffing onto Alec’s skin. Why had the baby clothes
upset him more?
“Alec Miller,” Gran snapped, slamming the door open. “Get away from your brother,
this instant!”
Ben yelped, jerking away from Alec. In his rush to escape, he tumbled off the bed and
out of the sheets, crashing naked onto the floor. Alec’s heart stopped. He lunged after
Ben, gathering him into his arms. “Are you okay, Benny?”
Ben squeaked and shoved Alec off, panicking. “No, Alec. Get away.”
“Alec,” Gran yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Alec’s blood roared in his ears. He knew what this had to look like to Gran. Alec
pouncing on his naked stepbrother, pulling him closer. Except Ben had just fallen⁠—it
was Alec’s priority to make sure he was okay. The baby, too. “Ben,” he said again.
Ben shook his head frantically. “No, let me go.”
“Alec.” Gran hobbled over, glowering. She’d seen the onesies. She’d seen them kiss.
“Ben is mine,” Alec said. Because there was no hiding it anymore. The master bedroom
smelled like teak and daisy and musk, and there was no denying the hickeys all over
Ben’s body, that Alec had left last night. “He’s my omega.”
Gran frowned. “Have you gone out of your mind? Ben is your brother. How can you
allow him to be naked⁠—”
“My omega.” Alec glared. “He’s been my omega for weeks.”
“No.” Ben shook his head furiously. “No, I’m no longer yours.”
What? Alec stopped breathing. “Benny?” he asked, feeling like he’d missed something.
“I’m not yours,” Ben said. Then he met Alec’s eyes, and there was stark apology in his
gaze. “I’m not your omega. Not anymore.”
At the back of his mind, Alec thought that maybe this was a charade, and they’d get
back together after Gran had left the room. “Okay.” He hoped he could convey that
message to Ben, that he was giving Ben a hug after this. That he wasn’t leaving Ben at
all.
But Ben shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. We’re done, Alec. I’m serious.”
Alec stared, his thoughts slowing down like they were made of molasses. “Benny? You
can’t mean...” He glanced toward Gran, trying to ask Ben if this was because of their
grandmother. But Ben shook his head, pulling the sheets around his waist.
“I’m leaving. I’m moving out.” Ben’s voice cracked. “You’ve done enough for the
bakery. I can’t thank you enough for it, but this has to end.”
The bakery. The fucked-up ad. Alec’s breath snagged in his throat. He wanted to
believe this was a lie, except he couldn’t erase the protest from his memory. “This... isn’t
about the protests, is it?”
Ben met his eyes, and there was truth in his gaze now. And Alec had the sick, sinking
feeling that this was real. That he’d messed up too much this time, and Ben was really
breaking up with him. That thought horrified him to no end. “No, Benny. I told you, I’d
get another ad done. I’ll fix things, I promise. We’ll get Ben’s Buns back to normal
again.”
Anything but breaking up.
“No.” Ben backed away when Alec tried to approach him. “I’m sorry, Alec. This has to
end. You’ll find someone else.”
“But the baby,” Alec blurted. He felt like he was grasping at straws, trying to make Ben
stay. Trying to convince himself that things would be fine after this.
“What baby?” Gran snapped.
“The one I put in his belly.”
Gran froze. Then she turned pale, and she was reaching for Alec’s belt on the dresser,
she was raising it, her lips trembling with fury. Alec braced himself for its burn.
“No!” Ben leaped to his feet and grabbed her arm, turning her around. He all but
begged her with his eyes, looking like he might shatter any second. “Gran, no. Please.”
She glowered. “He forced you to sleep with him, Ben, and you’re defending him?”
“No, he didn’t. I did it of my own free will.” Ben didn’t look at Alec at all, but he
wrapped his arm around his belly, angling it away from Gran. “I’m keeping the child.”
Gran stared at him in shock. “You slept with your brother.”
“Yes, Gran. I did.” Ben backed away, hugging his belly like his life depended on it.
Ben wanted Alec’s child. So there was still hope, wasn’t there? The tiny velvet box
caught Alec’s eye; he snatched it off the bed. “Benny.”
Ben looked over. Alec opened the box, getting to one knee. The ring glinted. There
wasn’t any need to ask the question, because the ring said everything. Alec’s heart
thumped with hope.
Ben’s mouth fell open; he backed away, shaking his head. “No. Keep it. I’m not
marrying you. I’m leaving, Alec. What part of that don’t you understand?”
Then he turned and dragged the sheets with him, making for the bedroom door. Alec
leaped after him into the hallway, toward Ben’s bedroom. Izzy had opened his own
door, watching wide-eyed as they stalked past him.
“Ben.” Alec grabbed Ben’s arm, whirling him around.
“No. Please let me go, Alec.” Ben had tears in his eyes; he was struggling hard not to
cry.
Alec’s heart cracked. “I know I fucked up,” he said. “Please don’t go.”
Because Ben was leaving. There wasn’t any doubt about that now, that Ben was
disappointed in him.
All Alec had ever wanted was to protect Ben from everyone⁠—from the friends who
might mock him, from their family, who would scorn them for this relationship. And
now Alec had messed up, he’d caused Ben grief with the bakery. He needed a chance to
fix everything⁠—except he wasn’t sure he could.
“Benny, please,” Alec begged. “Don’t leave.”
Ben trembled, hovering on a knife edge of indecision. He looked like he might agree.
Alec’s heart thumped. Except Ben yanked his arm away, shoving Alec out of the room.
“No.”
“I love you,” Alec said.
Ben cracked then⁠—Alec saw the way he bit his lip hard, his skin turning white from the
pain. Alec wanted to step closer, but Ben’s expression... Alec was not welcome in there.
There was a rift between them now, one that grew with every passing second. Alec felt
so fucking helpless, trying to find somewhere he could bridge that gap.
“I’m leaving,” Ben said, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I’m grateful for everything.”
Then he shut the door, turning the key in its lock.
“Benny!” Alec hammered on the door, his desperation overwhelming him. Ben was
crying. Ben needed someone.
Pain lashed across his back, yanking up a wave of hot anger in his chest. Alec whirled
around, trying to come to terms with any of this.
“Leave him alone,” Gran snapped. “He told you to. If Ben is so important to you, then
let him leave.”
It wasn’t right. Alec still thought of Ben as his. He wasn’t sure how he could protect
Ben, if Ben wasn’t close by. But he’d messed up on the ad, he’d screwed over Ben’s
business. Without fixing any of that, Alec had no right to ask Ben to be his omega again.
He stared at the locked bedroom door, his heart pounding. He had nothing going for
him right now. Even if he convinced Ben to stay⁠—he had nothing of value to give his
omega.
Alec swallowed hard, backing down. “Fine,” he said. “You can leave if you want to.”
The words felt like daggers slicing down his tongue. Alec stared at the door to Ben’s
room, trying not to reach for it. He needed to give Ben space. He needed⁠—He needed
his omega back.
Pulling himself away from that door felt like the hardest thing he’d done. Harder than
leaving Ben at the Spin-the-Bottle circle, harder than realizing Dad would never support
his bonding with Ben.
Slowly, Alec retreated into his bedroom, Gran’s judgment heavy on him. He shut the
door and forced himself to sit down, the velvet box lying next to him on the bed⁠—just
more proof that he’d failed his omega. On the floor, there was a folded-up receipt for
the onesies. Alec didn’t remember it, but Gran must’ve found it and brought it upstairs.
Eventually, he heard Ben emerge from his room. Ben spoke to Izzy. Then, after more
time had passed, Ben’s voice drifted down the hallway, Izzy’s muted tones trailing after
him.
Some hours later, someone knocked on the bedroom door. When Alec looked up, Mom
was there. She wasn’t smiling at all.
“They’ve both left,” she said, stepping over to give him a fierce hug. “I’m sorry.”
The words rang of finality. Ben wasn’t going to return. He was everything Alec had
ever wanted, and to let him go⁠—it shook Alec more than anything else. It felt like his
lungs were being ripped out, and he couldn’t breathe anymore.
Alec buried his face in her shoulder, needing to step outside, and bring Ben home. “I
want him back.”
“It’s Ben’s choice, hon.” Mom smiled sadly. “If you let him go, maybe he’ll return.”
Would Ben? Alec didn’t know. He’d fucked up so badly that it’d be a wonder if Ben
ever forgave him.
Alec closed his eyes, trying to come to terms with a future that didn’t include Ben at all.
⁠
“C AN we go to the toy store, Daddy?” Izzy asked, tugging on Ben’s fingers. “Please?
Caleb says they have all the new things!”
Little wonder, when Christmas was three weeks away. A pang of guilt struck Ben; he
locked the bakery’s front entrance. “We can’t afford it, hon.”
“But we can just look, right? Please?” Izzy gave Ben those puppy eyes, and Ben couldn’t
find it in himself to turn Izzy down.
Things had been rough for them this past week. Ben had found some temporary
lodgings on the other side of town, in a dilapidated, rickety building that creaked
whenever there was a gale. The water heater barely worked in that place, and only one
burner on the stove actually came on. A couple of times, the light switches had jolted
Ben when he’d gone to turn them off.
It wasn’t the best place to be. Ben felt terrible, taking Izzy with him, but he couldn’t
impose on Alec any more.
Alec. His heart squeezed tight. I love you, Alec had said. Time and again, he’d said it,
hoping Ben would answer in kind. Every time Ben heard it, he’d memorized those
words, he’d thought about them over and over, so he wouldn’t forget Alec’s voice as he
said it, the warmth in Alec’s eyes when he looked at Ben.
And then Alec had proposed. He’d gone down on his knee, he’d had a ring, and Ben
had felt like the worst person in the world.
None of this was something Alec deserved⁠—not Ben’s debt, not Ben’s scars, and
certainly not the lashes Gran had given him with the belt. Ben felt guilty that Alec had
bought him a ring. He felt terrible, leaving Alec behind. Ben tried not to remember Alec
hammering on the bedroom door, he tried not to remember Alec begging. An alpha like
Alec⁠—he shouldn’t have to beg. He should have an omega who was beautiful, someone
who wasn’t as battered as Ben had been.
At some point, Alec would move on. He’d find someone who wasn’t Ben, and the
family would accept him again. Except the thought of Alec kissing another omega⁠—it
made Ben’s chest squeeze so tight, he couldn’t breathe.
“I guess we can spend ten minutes at the toy shop,” Ben said, misery swelling up his
throat.
Izzy cheered; at least one of them was happy.
They made their way down the sidewalk, past the signboards that said Down with Ben’s
Buns and Protect our children. The road was littered with trash the protesters had left;
empty bottles tumbled along the street, driven along by the chilly breeze. Ben pulled his
coat tighter around himself. That had been a gift from Alec, too.
“I miss Uncle Alec,” Izzy said, skipping along next to Ben.
Ben’s heart sank further. “You do?” His voice cracked.
“Uh-huh. He was reading the dragon book to me, he didn’t get to the end this time. I
like it best when he reads the end!”
“Oh.” Ben tried not to think about the times they’d sat with Izzy, reading that storybook
together. “You don’t like when I read it to you?”
“I like it better when both of you read it.” Izzy waved his arms, trying to demonstrate
his point. “You read the knight’s parts and he sounds so nice! Then when Uncle Alec
reads the dragon’s parts, he goes Roar! Like a real dragon!”
Ben didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t getting back with Alec. His limbs ached with
exhaustion, and he wanted to go home and pull the sheets over his head. Sleep was
where he could escape his suffocating reality.
Not that he found much peace, when William turned his dreams into nightmares.
They passed a bus stop, where passengers were alighting from a rumbling, lit-up bus. It
was one of the buses that would pass by Alec’s place, only it took a bit of walking from
the bus stop to get there.
Then he glimpsed Gran and Mom on the bus; they were seated on the far side of the
aisle, talking between themselves. Ben’s stomach dropped. He looked hurriedly away,
afraid that they would see him. He didn’t want Gran looking at him again, he didn’t
want to remember her asking incredulously, You slept with your brother?
It had been difficult enough leaving Alec’s home. Gran had stepped into Ben’s room
and said, I don’t think you’re teaching Izzy the right thing.
Like it had ever been Ben’s choice, falling in love with Alec.
Ben hesitated, staring at the road leading to the toy store. He thought about Gran and
Mom catching sight of him, he thought about Gran getting off the bus, coming up to tell
him how else he would corrupt Izzy.
He looked at the shadowy side streets that branched away from the road, that would
take them out of sight of the bus. It wasn’t safe. But Ben didn’t have the strength to
stand up to Gran right now, either.
His heart pattering, he took Izzy’s hand, stepping away from the sidewalk. Maybe we
can avoid the alleys. Maybe we can just walk on the other side of this parking lot. It was
shadowy enough that it would hide their identities for a short while.
“Where are we going?” Izzy asked.
“We’re taking a short detour,” Ben said.
Izzy hummed. Then he said, “Uncle Alec said ‘fuck’.”
Ben didn’t know if he wanted to smile or cry. Stop talking about him. “You really liked
Uncle Alec, huh?”
Izzy nodded. “I wish you didn’t break up with him. Are you going to get back
together?” He looked hopefully at Ben.
If only things worked that way. “Is this because you want the toy he promised you for
Christmas?”
Izzy grinned and wriggled. “Maybe?”
Ben swallowed his guilt, feeling too poor. “Maybe he’ll remember and give it to you
anyway.”
“You think so?” Izzy cheered up.
And maybe that would allow Ben to see Alec again. Just for a short while. If Alec asked
to meet Izzy... that meant Ben would take him to a meeting spot. There, he could
glimpse his alpha, just watching as Alec smiled at Izzy and hugged him. His heart
aching, Ben cradled his belly. Your other dad is perfect, you know. Maybe he’d like to meet
you someday.
Ben was so distracted by that thought, that he didn’t notice the bulky shadow at the end
of the building. They rounded the corner, crashing into someone. Ben stopped short,
yanking Izzy back. A cloud of cigarette smoke and terrible boxwood burned up his
nose.
It was a familiar scent⁠—one that set all the alarms blaring in his mind. The shadow
peeled away from the building, the red glow of its cigarette falling onto the asphalt. A
boot crushed it into the ground.
“Benjamin,” William said, his gleaming eyes reflecting the cars’ headlights. “How nice
to see you again. I didn’t think you missed me.”
Ben’s stomach twisted. Next to him, Izzy’s entire body tensed. His eyes had gone wide,
his chest heaving with each panicked breath.
This is bad. I need to get Izzy out of here. “We’re just passing through,” Ben said, shoving
Izzy behind himself. Izzy was most important right now.
William’s hand shot out, catching Ben in an iron grip. Ben tried to shake him off. But
William’s grasp only grew tighter, his smile turning cruel as he yanked Ben close. “You
lost me my cigarette,” William said, his rancid breath puffing onto Ben’s face. “I expect
compensation.”
Ben’s chest squeezed. He knew what happened next. What would always happen the
moment he did something wrong. They were divorced, but William’s violent streak
never changed, no matter where they were. He tried to escape anyway, shoving at
William’s chest, clawing at his arm. “You dropped that cigarette yourself.”
“No, I didn’t.” William drew his hand back before fear could strike Ben, and slapped
him hard across the face.
Pain burst through Ben’s skull; he gasped, his vision winking out with the blow.
“Daddy!” Izzy screamed.
“Get away,” Ben yelled back. “Go now, hon!”
He’d run through this scenario with Izzy before. Izzy knew what he was supposed to
do. But having it actually happen, having to trust that Izzy remembered all of that⁠—Ben
wasn’t sure Izzy could.
“You’re staying with me this time.” William smirked, punching Ben viciously in the
side of his head.
Ben flinched at the pain; Izzy cried out again. He was still hovering to the side, fear
stark in his eyes.
“I can’t go.” Izzy shook his head, backing away when William stepped over to him.
“Daddy!”
Ben’s heart chilled; he dug in his heels and shouldered William back, so William
stumbled and roared. “This is 1st and Pine,” Ben snapped. “Baby, you know what to do.
Run.”
William backhanded Ben so hard that he stumbled back, losing his balance. Izzy cried
out. William turned to him. “Nasty little snot.”
He was going to grab Izzy, and beat him, too. Maybe even kill him. With a cry, Ben
launched himself at William, digging his fingers into William’s eyes. “Go!”
With a last look at Ben, Izzy turned and ran. Ben scratched William’s face, he jabbed
William’s eyes, trying to distract William as much as he could. Izzy needed time to
escape. And he couldn’t even sprint as fast as Ben. William could outrun them both in a
heartbeat.
William roared, grasping Ben, slamming him into the wall. Pain seared through Ben’s
bones. But that wasn’t quite as terrifying as the fury that blazed in William’s eyes⁠—this
was rare, even for him.
Ben knew he’d be lucky if he came out of this alive.
That was okay. As long as Ben bought Izzy enough time, as long as Izzy found safety⁠—
that was all Ben needed. “All you know is how to smash people into walls,” Ben
wheezed. “Forgotten your knife skills, have you?”
William sneered, pulling a dagger out of his boot. “We’re playing that game, are we?
How about I slice off your nipple today?”
A cold chill slid down Ben’s spine. Stay brave. Don’t let him know you’re scared. “Is that all
you can do? You’re a joke, William.”
The man sneered, pinning Ben against the wall. From the corner of his eye, Ben
followed Izzy’s tiny form as he ran as fast as he could, down the sidewalk, before
turning and going down another street. Keep going, Ben thought. Stay safe.
With one hand tightening around Ben’s neck, William ripped Ben’s coat open, so the
winter’s chill seeped through his clothes. The knife’s edge gleamed. Ben’s entire body
prickled with awareness, of that sharp metal slicing him open. He couldn’t breathe.
“Where should this go first?” William jabbed the knife lightly into Ben’s chest, its metal
point burning into his skin. “Looks like you’re just as soft as before.”
Fear squeezed Ben’s throat. William jabbed that knife in deeper, so Ben’s nerves
screamed. A whimper slipped past his lips.
“Not so brave anymore.” William smiled, dangerous and demented. Then he found a
spot on Ben’s shoulder, and shoved the knife in.
Ben screamed. William pulled the blade out, surveying his handiwork. That gave Ben
some time to recover. He thought about the baby in his belly. Then he forced himself
not to cover it, so William wouldn’t know Ben was pregnant. “I thought you⁠—you
hated covering my body in scars.”
William smirked. “You said you had an alpha. I’m just marking my territory in more...
visible places.”
Then he ripped open Ben’s shirt and slid the blade along Ben’s chest, slicing open his
skin.
Ben reeled, hurting everywhere. He wanted to escape. He wanted to run far away, and
never see William again. He shook in terror, bleeding down his front, wondering if Izzy
had found safety. If Izzy had called the cops. But there were no sirens. Just the rumble
of traffic, and the pain searing through Ben’s body.
Warmth trickled down his thigh. It was wet, he realized. It was liquid. He was pissing
his pants. And there was no end to this torture and humiliation.
“Where should this go next?” William asked.
Ben didn’t want to know. He closed his eyes and thought about Alec. He thought about
Alec proposing to him. He thought about Alec cradling him close, kissing his forehead.
He thought about Alec’s warmth and kindness, and he wished... that his last minutes
alive weren’t spent like this, but with his alpha.
He bit his lip, sick with regret. He’d never told Alec how much he loved him. Alec
would be delighted to know, wouldn’t he? Ben regretted that he’d never said yes to
Alec’s proposal. He wanted to know what it felt like, wearing Alec’s ring. Having Alec’s
bonding mark on his neck, his wrists.
If Ben had a chance to redo things... he’d accept that proposal. He wanted to be Alec’s
for at least a short while before he met his end. He wanted a family with his alpha. He
wanted to be vain and believe that he was beautiful, and that he deserved all of Alec’s
love.
Even if Ben was a coward, even if he was a drain on Alec... Maybe Alec would forgive
him for it. Maybe Alec would stay by his side.
William continued to slice into Ben. But Ben was floating away now, his mind
detaching itself from reality. He thought about a world with Alec, a world where there
was no regret.
The pain faded away. The darkness did, too. In his mind, there was peace and safety,
and there was Alec’s warmth waiting for him.
Ben slipped away, lost to the world.
⁠
T HE TRUCKS PULLED into the station, fresh from completing a call. Alec stared at the
seat in front of him, lost in thought. Still Ben. It was always about Ben. He wondered if
Ben was happy, he wondered if Ben was getting along okay. There had been no charges
to that credit card Alec had given him, which made Alec worry⁠—Ben wasn’t doing so
great with money.
“Hey.” Gareth elbowed him in the ribs. “Either do something about it, or get back to
work, son. You aren’t getting paid to daydream about your omega.”
Alec looked up, scowling. “I’m not thinking about him.”
“Yes, you are.” York opened Alec’s door, tugging him out of the truck. “Here, I have the
perfect solution. You bring this jar to him and tell him how sorry you are.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s honey.” Alec sighed. “It won’t solve anything.”
York gave him a pointed look. “Have you tried?”
Alec rolled his eyes. “It’s not something honey can solve. But I sure wish it could.”
Mostly, he felt like shit. The house had been horribly quiet lately. Alec had been
sleeping in his own bed, but it felt far too empty now. A couple of times (more than
that, really), he’d gone into Ben’s room, lying in the bed Ben had only occasionally slept
in. It still smelled like daisy⁠—that was the most important thing. Once, Mom had found
Alec there; she’d given him a pitying look.
It wasn’t like Alec knew how to get over his heartbreak. He’d spent his entire life being
in love with Ben. There wasn’t anyone but Ben, and now that Alec had had a taste of
that sweet intimacy, he didn’t know how he could go on without it. His heart felt like its
insides had been ripped out, and it had been left open to bleed.
York led Alec to the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets. There were jars and jars of
honey there; Alec stared, momentarily distracted. York shoved a full jar into his hands.
“Take it,” York said sagely. “You’ll thank me later.”
Alec frowned. “Wait, how’d you manage to get clearance to bring in all this honey?”
York gave him a sheepish look. “Well, I... didn’t.”

“Damn, son.” Gareth clapped York on the shoulder. “You went and bought too much
again, didn’t you? You were giving those out at my wedding. Should’ve just told Flores
and me not to bother with the wedding favors.”
Alec stepped away, leaving York and Gareth to their discussion. It was easy for them
to⁠—they were happily married to the omegas of their dreams. They deserved all the
happiness in the world. Alec was happy for them.
It just wasn’t a conversation he wanted to stick around for. He’d barely told anyone the
circumstances of his and Ben’s breakup; no one had to know. More than that, Alec was
ashamed that he’d been the one who had messed up. He should’ve just found another
way to help Ben’s Buns, instead of getting Ben’s hopes up with an ad.
He pulled out his phone, staring at its wallpaper. On it, Ben and Izzy were laughing in
Alec’s kitchen⁠—Ben had surprised Izzy with a strawberry roll, and Izzy had squealed
with delight. Alec had happened to be there with his phone, and he’d snapped that
picture just because.
He brushed his thumb over Ben’s face, wishing he could return to that time. Wishing he
could hold Ben close, and just breathe him in.
His phone began to buzz⁠—an incoming call from Izzy. Alec frowned. Why would Izzy
call him in the middle of the night? “Iz?” he asked, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Uncle Alec,” Izzy panted, his voice cracking. “Help! He’s beating Daddy up!”
Alec’s blood chilled. “What? Where?”
“Purst and Fine.” Izzy began to sob, his breathing growing ragged. Cars rumbled by in
the background. “I’m scared. He’s gonna cut Daddy, he’s gonna make Daddy bleed.”
Alec’s thoughts jumbled and crashed. Someone was hurting Ben, and hurting him
badly. Alec had to be there, right now. “Purst and Fine? There’s no such place in
Meadowfall. First and Pine?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Izzy sniffled, and Alec’s heart squeezed tight. “Please come quick.”
“I’m on my way. Stay on the call, kiddo. Don’t hang up on me.” Alec dashed through
the station, almost crashing into Dom on the way out. It was a good thing⁠—Dom was
second-in-charge, but just as good as team captain. “Dom,” Alec said. “I gotta go.
Someone’s attacking Ben. Armed.”
Dom’s eyes sharpened; he radioed Harris, the A-Team leader. “Alec’s stepping out for a
bit. Family emergency. Nate and I will follow as backup.”
Alec nodded his gratitude, returning to the call. “Iz, is there anyone with you?”
“Uh-uh.” Izzy’s voice jolted with every step. There was the metallic tap of him hitting a
stoplight button. “But⁠—But I feel bad. I need to go back. What if he kills Daddy?”
Gods. Alec’s heart stopped; he closed his eyes. “It’s not gonna happen, okay?” he told
Izzy, even if the possibility unnerved him on a whole new level. “Tell me where your
dad is, but don’t go back. It’s not safe.”
“But what if Daddy needs help?” Izzy’s voice wobbled. “Like⁠—Like on TV. If I⁠—If I go
back to help him...”
“Izzy, no. Stay where you are.” Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. He followed Dom
to a smaller truck, Dom climbing into the driver’s seat. Alec was thankful for that; he
couldn’t drive straight right now. His entire body had grown taut with tension and fear,
and fury. “Your dad and I want you safe. Tell me where they are, but don’t go back.”
“They’re at the building, at the parking lot.” Izzy sniffled. Then he whined. “He⁠—He
slapped Daddy. H-he’s doing it again. Daddy’s not fighting back.”
Alec clenched his fists hard, trying to calm down. It was Ben’s ex, wasn’t it? The one
who’d left all those scars on Ben’s arms. Was Ben scared? Was he not fighting back
because he couldn’t? Was he even conscious? “Stay away from them, Iz. Please.”
He gave Dom the address. They were heading out of the station, the sirens wailing, but
they weren’t moving fast enough.
Izzy sniffled on the phone, mumbling, his words incoherent. Alec’s dread spiked with
each second that passed. “Izzy, listen to me. Isaac Miller. I need you to step away. Your
dad wants you to be safe. We’ll be there in a minute, we’re not far away.”
“Okay, okay.” Izzy whimpered. Then he hiccupped, his breaths stumbling. “H-he, I
think he saw me. He dropped Daddy. He’s coming for me⁠—”
“Izzy, run.” Alec peered out through the windshield, his heart pounding. “Please.”
Izzy’s breaths turned jagged; he was running. Alec searched the streets, hoping he’d see
Izzy somewhere, hoping he could get there in time.
Then Izzy cried out. A low voice rumbled through the phone, and Izzy screamed.
“Izzy!” Alec’s heart clenched tight.
Izzy’s phone clattered to the ground. “My phone!” he cried from somewhere faraway.
There was a second impact, a car honked, and then the line went static.
“Izzy’s phone smashed,” Alec growled, rage pounding through his veins. “He has Izzy.
Ben’s probably unconscious.”
Dom narrowed his eyes. “Almost there. Nate’s following us with supplies.”
The truck pulled into an empty parking lot with no one in sight. Then, in the shadow of
a building, Alec glimpsed a limp figure sprawled across the ground. His chest clenched.
“Ben!”
Ben didn’t stir. He lay on the asphalt, face down, and Alec couldn’t even tell if he was
still breathing. He clicked off his seatbelt; Dom drove them all the way up to Ben, and
Alec was leaping out even before the truck had completely stopped.
“I’ll look for Izzy,” Dom called.
“Please,” Alec begged.
He dashed over to Ben, hardly even daring to breathe. Ben looked so tiny in his open
jacket. His heart squeezing, Alec gathered Ben carefully off the ground, turning him
over.
And then he saw the blood.
There was blood everywhere⁠—scratches on Ben’s face, his broken lip. But those were
the minor injuries. Long, deliberate gashes streaked across Ben’s chest, blood from those
cuts blooming across his pale shirt. Then there were the stab wounds, the small thin
incisions that had probably gone deeper. Alec’s ears rang. He struggled to comprehend
this. That his Benny had been so hurt, that he was bleeding all over.
Ben’s head lolled against Alec’s shoulder; he was still warm. Alec raised trembling
fingers to Ben’s neck, the possibility occurring to him: What if Ben was dead? What if he
touched Ben’s throat, and there was no pulse?
His lungs tightened; he struggled to breathe. For a second, Alec was struck by fear⁠—
what would he do, if he had really lost Ben? He swayed with nausea, the thought so
terrible that he almost threw up.
He remembered the times they’d sat together on playground swings, he remembered

the times he’d held Ben’s hand, and they’d watched the sunset together. He
remembered cupping Ben’s face in his hands⁠—they’d just been thirteen then⁠—and
kissing Ben’s cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids.
Alec remembered kissing Ben the first time, for real. He remembered Ben snuggling up
to him in bed. He remembered Ben cradling his belly, where their baby was. And all
Alec knew was love for him.
If he lost Ben... He would regret letting Ben go. He would regret not being here to
protect his omega, he’d regret letting Gran persuade him to stay away.
Because Ben had always been the most important person to Alec, Ben had always been
the first person he thought about when he woke up, and the last person who stayed in
his thoughts as he fell asleep. It didn’t matter anymore what anyone else thought they
were⁠—Alec’s feelings for Ben would never change.
If Ben was alive, Alec would try again. He’d ask Ben to come home. He’d try his best to
prove himself, to save Ben’s bakery, to make his Benny smile again.
Please be alive. Please don’t leave me. His heart thudding, Alec pressed his fingers to Ben’s
pulse point, and held his breath.
There was a pulse, but it was faint. Alec sucked in a deep breath, relief flooding through
him. Ben was still alive. There was hope. When he woke, Alec would give Ben
everything he wanted.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Alec turned, on edge.
Nate set down his medic bag next to them. “I’ll deal with this,” he said. “Dom’s found
Izzy.”
Nate was older, grizzled, with a no-nonsense air about him that Alec was endlessly
grateful for. “Please.” Alec kissed Ben’s forehead, then gently lowered him onto the
ground. “I’m gonna propose to him someday. Please keep him alive.”
Nate gave a nod; this was probably nothing compared to his days as a secret agent. But
to Alec, it meant the world. Alec inhaled, filled his lungs with resolve, and set off,
searching for Dom on the boundaries of the empty parking lot. Ben was in good hands.
That left Izzy. Hang in there, Iz. I’m coming to get you.
Alec jogged forward, finding Dom on the far edge of the lot, the reflective stripes of his
pants gleaming in the headlights of the oncoming traffic. But Dom wasn’t alone⁠—he
was facing off against the bastard, who had Izzy grasped in one hand, a gleaming
dagger in the other.
Ice slid through Alec’s veins. Then, rage. That slimeball, William Shakerley⁠—he had the
nerve to hold a knife to Izzy; he dared threaten his own son. He didn’t deserve to be
called a father, much less a human being. Alec prowled, suppressing the urge to charge
forward. The goal was to save Izzy. He needed as much of an upper hand as he could.
Dom must’ve seen Alec approaching, but he was hardly moving at all. “Stay cool,”
Dom said evenly. “I don’t mean any harm. Let the kid go.”
“Only if you leave first,” William spat.
Dom nodded, slowly backing away. And Alec realized that they were all on the
sidewalk, that Dom had very deliberately distracted William so William’s back faced
Alec⁠—this gave Alec the advantage of surprise.
Alec held his breath, using the rumble of traffic to hide his footfalls. He prowled closer
to William, so close that he could touch the man. Then he lunged, grabbed William’s
knife hand, and kicked the back of his knee, so William lost his balance, stumbling
forward.
Izzy cried out; Dom darted forward in the same moment, dragging Izzy away to safety.
Izzy was in good hands, too. And now Alec could lash out.
William snarled and turned; Alec wrenched the dagger out of his hand, flinging it aside.
Then he punched William hard in the face, so hard that his knuckles stung. “This is for
Ben,” Alec spat, and punched him again. “This is for all the times you hurt him.”
William reeled, then lunged forward. He threw a punch at Alec; Alec took the blow and
flung his fist at William’s nose; it connected with a satisfying crunch.
Next to them, cars zoomed by, honking loudly. Alec made damn sure he had his
footing. He needed it. He needed to walk out of this alive. But first, he needed to make
sure that William Shakerley never threatened Ben again.
He lunged, hurling his fist into William’s head, knocking him back. William snarled
and kicked at Alec, and there was suddenly another knife in his hand.
William stabbed at him. It caught Alec by surprise, nicking his arm. Fire burned down
Alec’s nerves; he hissed, turning his back to the parking lot. “Leave Ben alone.”
William scoffed. “You’re his squeeze? Some alpha you’ve been. I’ve put my new
markings on him.”
The only markings Alec had seen were the bloody cuts. Those were William’s markings?
Disgust clawed up Alec’s throat. “You have no right,” he spat. “He didn’t consent to
them.”
William’s eyes gleamed. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” Alec was done speaking with him. He lunged at William and
grabbed his collar, punching him in the head. William hissed; stabbing his knife into
Alec’s arm. Fire scorched through Alec’s body; he punched William in the eye. As
William reeled back, Alec flung him down onto the sidewalk.
William landed too far out, his head and shoulders hanging above the asphalt. Then he
turned, his eyes growing wide as bright headlights illuminated him.
The car honked, brakes screeching. It couldn’t stop in time. William crunched beneath
its wheels, his neck snapping, his head flattening into bits of bone and gristle.
He was gone. Alec panted, his veins pounding with adrenaline. He couldn’t tear his
eyes away from the mess of blood and gore. Triumph roared in his chest. Feet away,
other cars squealed to a stop.
“Alec,” Dom said.
It was only when Alec’s arm began to hurt, that he looked down. A trail of blood
slicked his skin, dripping from his fingers. The pain was starting to spread through his
body like fire; he was only half-aware of it. He’d gotten rid of Ben’s nightmares. That
was more important.
When he turned, he found Dom standing with a pale and shaken Izzy.
Alec remembered Izzy’s panicked breathing across the phone, he remembered William
holding a knife to Izzy’s throat. “Hey, kiddo,” Alec said, so fucking relieved that Izzy
was with them, that Izzy was unhurt. “You okay?”
Izzy whimpered, staring at the blood on Alec’s arm. “He hurt you, too.”
Alec cracked a smile. “I asked about you, Iz. Not me.” He strode over, and Izzy
wobbled forward, throwing his arms around Alec. Alec’s heart swelled; he crouched,
pulling Izzy into a tight hug. “Missed you, kid.”
Think I love you, too.
“I was scared,” Izzy mumbled. “You said I shouldn’t go back and I did, and⁠—”
“Shh.” Alec ruffled Izzy’s hair, kissing his cheek. “It’s okay. You’re safe. That’s most
important.”
Izzy sniffled. “Is Daddy better? Dom said Daddy will be fine, but...”
He looked at where Nate was still crouching next to Ben⁠—Ben wasn’t moving. Alec’s
pulse stumbled. Was Ben awake? Or was he... more badly hurt than Alec realized? He
stood, his heart pattering with fear.
Dom stopped next to Alec, looking solemn.
“I need to see Ben,” Alec said. He thought Dom would berate him for causing William’s
death, especially in uniform. But all Dom said was, “The cops will be here soon. They’ll
want your statement.”
The cops. “Are they... gonna lock me up in jail?” Would he even get to follow up on
how Ben was doing? Alec panicked.
Dom shook his head. “Unlikely. If Ben verifies that he’s your omega, then you were
acting in defense of him and Izzy.”
So... there was a chance that this would turn out okay. Alec held his breath. Would Ben
say he was Alec’s? Was he even well enough to? “I’m gonna see how he’s doing.”
Dom glanced at the street, where cars were honking and people were yelling. “I’ll direct
traffic. It’ll be a mess for a while. Check back later.”
They parted ways, Alec jogging with Izzy toward Ben. Now that Alec was determined
to get back together with his omega, he was starting to think of all the different ways he
could apologize. Mostly, he just wanted to see Ben smile again.
Nate looked up when they approached, his forehead furrowed. Most times, Alec could
tell if a victim would make it, just by Nate’s expression alone. This time... Nate didn’t
look so positive. Alec stopped breathing. “How’s he?”
Nate sighed. “His vitals are fine.”
“But...?” Alec dropped to a crouch next to his omega. Ben had been cleaned up; his eyes
were open. Alec’s heart skipped a beat. “Ben!” He gathered Ben into his arms, waiting
for Ben to meet his gaze.
But Ben just stared up at the sky, and blinked.
“He’s not responding.” Nate’s lips thinned. “His physical injuries are superficial, but I
can’t speak for the psychological ones.”
Alec tried to let that sink in. “Psychological ones? You mean...”
“He’s catatonic⁠—whatever he went through when he got these cuts, it probably put him
in this state.” Nate winced. “I’m sorry.”
Those words rang in Alec’s mind. He looked at the bandaged wounds, thinking about
William with that knife. Thinking about Ben’s fear when he’d been cut, how helpless
he’d felt. Alec’s heart hurt. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened. I’m sorry you went
through that alone.
Izzy took Ben’s hand, wriggling in excitement. “Daddy, Daddy! Guess what?”
But Ben didn’t respond to him, either. Izzy tried again. Then, when Ben remained silent,
Izzy drooped, his little shoulders sagging. “Daddy?”
Alec stared at Ben, waiting for him to blink and smile, and tell them this was a joke.
“This isn’t hilarious, Benny,” Alec said. “Come back.”
Ben stared into the distance, his chest rising and falling. And Alec had the sudden
thought that... maybe Ben had been so traumatized by William, that he might not return
at all. Fear slithered down his spine. Alec gulped, pushing that thought away.
“Daddy, say something!” Izzy looked tearful. He prodded Ben’s lip, peering hopefully
at him.
“Daddy’s not here right now, Iz.” Alec pulled him into a hug, wishing he didn’t have to
tell Izzy this. It wasn’t something a child needed to deal with.
Izzy began to cry. “When will he come back?”
“I don’t know.” Alec’s eyes burned. He shook Ben lightly, kissing his temple. “Wake
up.”
But Ben didn’t respond this time, either.
Alec closed his eyes, cradling Ben against himself. In the distance, the police sirens
wailed.
⁠
T HE DAY B EN WAS DISCHARGED , Alec brought him home. Mom took one look at Ben’s
stitches, and paled. Gran sniffed and turned away, but Alec glimpsed her looking back
at Ben, her expression uneasy.
That was fine. Alec didn’t have the heart to care what she thought right now.
He tucked Ben into bed in the spare bedroom, the one Ben had occupied when he’d
been living here. Then Alec went to the decrepit building on the other side of town,
fetching Ben and Izzy’s things from that apartment, too.
On the days Alec was off-duty, he sat with Ben in his room, just talking to him. Hoping
that somewhere in there, Ben could hear his words. “Do you remember that Spin-the-
Bottle game?” Alec would ask, linking their fingers together. “The very first time I
kissed you?”
Ben would blink and stare at the ceiling, and there would be no other response. Alec
continued his one-sided conversation anyway. It was nice, just reminiscing.
A couple of days in, Alec stepped into Ben’s room, to find him sitting up in bed. Ben
still didn’t respond, but it seemed that he preferred sitting up to lying down. So Alec let
him. More days later, Ben began wandering around the upstairs bedrooms. Most times,
he ended up in Alec’s bedroom, curled up on the mattress.
“We should move him,” Mom said worriedly. “I don’t want him falling down the
stairs.”
So they moved Ben into the empty bedroom downstairs, next to Gran’s room. At night,
Alec and Izzy read the dragon book to him. Sometimes, Izzy spent the night curled up
in bed next to Ben, and Alec would find them the next morning, Izzy holding Ben’s arm
around himself.
One morning, Alec returned home to find Mom and Gran crowded around Ben at the
foot of the stairs. Alec frowned, joining them. “What’s wrong?”
Mom held Ben in her arms. “He tried to climb up the stairs and tripped.”
Alec’s heart ached. “Why? There’s nothing he needs upstairs.”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “I tried to bring him back
to bed, and then I found him on the stairs again.”
Alec hesitated. “What if we bring him back to bed now? I’ll watch over him.”
So they did. This time, Ben didn’t attempt to get out of bed at all.
“Strange,” Mom said.
Then it happened again, the next time Alec was away on duty. This time, when he got
home, Ben was sprawled halfway up the stairs, Gran shaking her head, Mom frowning
in thought. Ben stopped moving. Then, when no one said anything, Ben continued his
shuffle up the stairs, his face dragging against the carpet, his feet slowly finding
purchase against each step.
Painstakingly, he pushed himself up the stairs with his feet alone, as though he didn’t
know what to do with his hands. At the top of the stairs, Ben began to crawl. Then he
stood up, sniffing, and slowly made his way to the master bedroom. Just like he had
before they’d moved him downstairs.
Alec’s heart began to pound.
“He’s lost,” Gran said.
“No, he isn’t.” Alec followed behind Mom and Gran, to where Ben had wandered into
Alec’s bedroom.
They found him in the middle of Alec’s bed, curled up, his eyes peacefully shut. And
now, for the first time in the two weeks since he’d gone catatonic, there was a smile on
his face.
Alec’s chest squeezed tight. You were looking for me.
“We should move him back upstairs,” he said.
Gran frowned. “But⁠—”
“Into my room. He’s made his choice, Gran.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Ben’s unconscious. His choices can’t be trusted.”
“Then we’ll leave the door wide open. You can watch if you want. I’m just gonna be
doing the same things. I’ll feed him, I’ll help him when he needs to piss. At least he
won’t be trying to crawl up the stairs again.” Alec lifted his chin. He’s my omega, he
didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. Ben had made it more than obvious where he wanted
to be.
Gran sniffed, hobbling out of the room. “Do what you want.”
Mom pulled Alec into a quick hug. “I think Ben might return,” she said quietly. “Keep
at it. You’re doing fine.”
Alec hugged her back, hope fluttering in his heart.
Over the next few days, the routine continued. Alec fed Ben soup and water, and he
read books with Izzy in the evenings. Sometimes, Gran peeked in, her brows drawn low
with suspicion. But all she saw was Alec combing Ben’s hair, clipping his nails, singing
him songs.
Ever so slowly, her frowns began to fade.
At night, they slept with the door open, both of them in sleeping clothes.
“Feels strange sleeping with you like that,” Alec murmured, staring up at the shadowy
ceiling. “You didn’t exactly agree to share my bed.”
Ben snuggled closer, his eyelids fluttering shut. Over the past weeks, Alec had learned
that Ben could dislike things, even when he was catatonic. Ben had hated celery ever
since they were children; Alec had tried to feed him some celery puree, and Ben had
spat it back out.
So having Ben squirm closer next to Alec, of his own accord⁠—maybe that was
agreement enough.
Then there were the other things, things that blurred the lines.
It was on a windy night, with the trees rustling against the window panes, that Ben
whimpered. He dragged his thigh across Alec’s legs, musk wafting off his skin. Alec
frowned. “Ben?”
Ben didn’t answer. But he shoved his hips forward, something stiff rubbing against
Alec’s knuckles. Alec froze. It didn’t take much to guess what plagued Ben⁠—Alec was
just surprised that Ben could get horny, even when he wasn’t completely present.
He inched away, across the bed. “Sorry, Benny. You’ll have to ride that one out
yourself.”
Without Alec to support him, Ben flopped face-down against the mattress, whimpering.
He rolled his hips, his musk growing thicker. Alec closed his eyes, trying not to think
about that too-familiar cock Ben had pushed against him.
Over and over, Ben shoved his hips against the bed, a constant thrusting that made the
mattress dip. His whimpers crept into Alec’s ears, down his spine, and into his cock.
Alec swallowed, telling himself not to react. Like his cock actually listened.
When Ben continued to gasp and shudder, Alec sighed, swinging his legs off the bed.
“Can’t stick around, Benny. You’ll drive me insane.”
That, or he was going to cream his pants.
Alec headed downstairs, turned on the driveway lights, and stepped out into the mild
winter night. Then, he began to wash his car. It was just as good as a cold shower, he
figured. When he was finally done rinsing off the suds, he went back into the house.
Just to be safe, he baked a batch of cookies⁠—Ben’s favorite, chocolate chips with little
nuggets of peppermint. Then he baked another batch.
Three hours later, he returned to his bedroom. Musk had saturated the air, and Ben
writhed on the bed. Alec’s heart sank. Still? He shut the door, grabbing a bottle of scent
suppressant from the nightstand. “Someone’s gonna think we fucked, Benny.”
He turned on the lights. Then he realized that Ben’s trousers had ridden down his hips,
leaving his ass bare. Had Ben been grinding his cock against the mattress this whole
time? Did he have enough lubrication? Or had he rubbed his cock raw?
Alec winced, his own cock hurting in sympathy. He climbed onto the bed, turning Ben
onto his side. Ben’s cock was flushed a deep red, redder than normal. Like a bad case of
carpet burn.
And now Alec was torn. He could help Ben jerk off, and stop him from hurting himself
further. He could squirt some lube onto the sheets, and let Ben grind into that. Or he
could pull a condom over Ben’s cock, so at least Ben wouldn’t aggravate the irritated
skin.
As though Ben was aware of Alec’s attention, his cock jerked, its flushed tip glistening
with precome. Alec tried not to think about tasting it. “The condom it is.”
He grabbed a box from the nightstand, pulling out a foil packet. Then he rolled the
slippery latex down Ben’s length. Alec remembered too late that the condom was alpha-
sized; it slipped loosely around Ben’s cock, as though it might slide right off.
“Damn it.” He had to try, at least. Alec tugged the sheath all the way down, fully
enclosing Ben’s cock. Then he rolled Ben back onto his front. “There, rut all you want.”
Ben whimpered, shoving his cock against the bed. Soft moans escaped his lips. Alec
looked away. That only made him more aware of Ben’s gasps, the way the bed shook
with each thrust.
“Fuck, Benny.” Alec stared at the bulge in his own shorts, his cock eager for some
release. While Ben got off, Alec spritzed the room with more suppressant. Then, he
rolled Ben over. There was no come, and Ben was raging hard, the condom almost
entirely slipped off his cock.
Alec sighed. He’d been in contact with Ben’s cock to help him piss, but that was
completely different from right now, when his cock was red and straining.
“What do I do?” Alec asked him.
Ben’s only answer was to buck his hips. Alec scrubbed his face. He wasn’t about to suck
Ben off, no. But he could... let Ben rut into his fist, maybe? That seemed like a
compromise. Alec could bring him off in a minute, without Ben hurting himself further
on the sheets. Then they could both go to sleep.
Still uncertain, Alec squirted some lube onto his palm, smearing it across his fingers. He
nudged the opening of his fist against Ben’s silky tip. It felt so sinful, touching Ben
there. So damn intimate. Ben shoved his cock toward the friction, his precome smearing
all over Alec’s fist. Then he thrust again, his tip kissing Alec’s hand.
Alec swallowed hard, guilt tugging in his chest. Was this allowed? Was the alternative
better? Should he stop, and let Ben rut against the bed until his cock bled?
He didn’t want Ben to hurt. So he loosened his fist, until Ben could comfortably fit his
tip inside. Ben hissed, shoving his cock deeper, a damp, silky slide. Once he was in,
Alec tightened his fist, squeezing Ben the way he liked it. Ben’s spine arched; he gasped,
his hips snapping up. He shoved his cock roughly into Alec’s fist, a hungry, desperate
rhythm that made Alec’s throat go dry.
“Damn, Benny,” Alec whispered. He forced himself not to move. To just hold his
clenched fist there, just letting Ben have his way with it.
Ben gasped and wheezed, his cock growing thicker, his foreskin pulling back from his
sensitive tip. He pumped sweetly into Alec’s fist, and Alec felt his sheer need⁠—where
their bodies touched was a point of connection between them. It felt like Ben was right
here, it felt like if Alec reached out, if he spoke, Ben would hear him.
Ben’s hips stuttered; he thrust into Alec’s hand a final time, his cock pulsing, jets of his
come spilling onto Alec’s shorts, onto the bed. Alec could almost feel his pleasure; his
own body thrummed with need⁠—to taste Ben, to kiss him, to press his cock against
Ben’s thigh.
With his other hand, Alec slid his fingers into Ben’s hair, cradling the back of his head.
Just pulling him close, just holding him. “You’re so damn beautiful,” Alec growled into
his ear. “I wish you could see yourself right now. I wish you were back with us, Benny.
We’ve all been waiting, you know. Gran and Mom and Izzy. Me especially. Wake up.”
Ben panted. Alec held his breath, waiting for a response. Had Ben heard? If he had,
would he sink back into wherever he was? Or would he return to the surface?
“Ben,” Alec murmured. “Can you hear me? Benny-bunny.”
Ben mumbled, the first time he’d tried to speak so far. Alec’s heart skipped. He touched
his finger to Ben’s lip, stroking it. And Ben’s eyelids fluttered. He opened his eyes, his
gaze unfocused, moving side to side⁠—or was he looking around the room?
Then his gaze landed on Alec, and focused. Alec forgot to breathe. “Benny?” he
croaked, trying not to get his hopes up. Ben had been gone for almost three weeks. To
expect him to return would be to expect a miracle. “Are you⁠—you there?”
Ben opened his mouth, sucking in a great, shivery breath. “A-Alec?”
⁠
I T WAS WHITE EVERYWHERE . Sometimes, it was dark. And sometimes, the light and
dark bled into each other, like the ebb and flow of a tide. Sometimes, there were noises.
Sometimes, there were smells. Sometimes, Ben imagined he was upside-down, free-
wheeling into space.
The pain had faded. It had been there at first, prickling into his subconscious, red-hot
spears that burrowed under his skin⁠—pain that he had tried desperately to escape.
At that point, he had found the safe spot⁠—it was somewhere in the whiteness, the very
furthest place from the pain, and it had smells and sounds. Teak, and the soothing
rumble of low tones. Ben had gone there for refuge, pulling the layers of white and teak
and rumbling over himself like comforting blankets. He’d spent a great deal of time just
drifting, watching the darkness take over the light, and the light slowly fight back.
Over time, he’d begun to hear things. The sounds were muffled as though they’d
passed through several pads of foam. Sometimes, he tasted familiar foods⁠—he wasn’t
sure how. There had been chicken, milk, and once, there’d been celery.
He hadn’t liked the celery at all.
After a while, the celery had disappeared. But the teak scent that accompanied it
remained. Ben had tried to discover the source of the scent; it waxed and waned, and
then he’d been yanked away from it. He’d struggled. After a great deal of searching,
he’d found the source again.
It was safe. In the midst of all the light, he remembered a name: Alec.
Alec was a good name. Ben cradled it close, knowing it was important, somehow. He
kept a hold on it through the light and the dark, he kept a hold on it through the
different flavors and smells.
Slowly, he began to realize that the source of the scent... wasn’t actually the source.
Every so often, it felt as though more of it rushed at him from the darkness. Where the
pain had been. Ben was afraid. He didn’t want to hurt again. He held the precious name
close to himself, inching slowly toward the darkness. He expected to hurt. It did, a little.
But then he found a great pair of jet-black curtains, from which scent and sound seemed
to emerge. The closer he crept toward those inky curtains, the more tantalizing the scent
became.
Every breath filled him with an aching need. Ben clutched his treasure and stood before
the towering curtains, each billow of its fabric covering him in that intense teak scent.
He took a step toward it. He grasped the curtain’s edge and pried it open. And that teak
scent⁠—a thousand times as strong⁠—it swept over him and stole his breath, and every
nerve in his body lit up.
Past the curtains was the pain he’d tried to escape. But there was no pain now. Only
need and longing, and the name in his arms.
The name trembled against him, taking on its own life. It began to glow, vibrating so
hard that Ben almost lost his grip on it. Except it sank into his chest and filled him with
warmth. Alec, it said. Home, it said. And Ben realized that there was something else he
needed.
A voice rumbled behind the curtains. Benny, it said. And it spoke of safety and love. Ben
shook, almost afraid. He’d stayed for so long in the light and darkness that this was the
safest place he knew.
Ben, the voice said again. Benny-bunny.
Ben remembered sitting on a swing, he remembered warm hands and kind eyes, and he
remembered damp kisses on his skin, all over his face. He remembered strong arms, he
remembered someone’s forehead pressed against his own, he remembered a crooked
smile.
Even though he was uncertain, he knew he had to step through the curtains now, or he
would lose his chance.
Ben grasped the curtains and squeezed his eyes tight, and plunged himself into the
darkness.
⁠
W HEN HE OPENED HIS EYES , he saw gold. He sucked in air, smelling a chemical tang
mixed in with teak⁠—so glorious⁠—and daisy and honey. Where am I?
He was in a room. The golden glow came from a lamp. To one side, dark curtains
covered a window, not unlike the ones Ben had just stepped through. To the other side,
he found a black dresser, and some clothes draped over an open closet door. There were
two other doors, one closed, the other leading into a bathroom. A toy firetruck caught
Ben’s eye, perched on top of a TV.
He’d been here before. He knew this place. Then something moved right next to him,
and Ben looked.
It was a beautiful man, with gray eyes and a strong jaw and full lips, and his shoulders
were broad, pecs stretching his T-shirt. Ben should’ve been afraid. But the voice in his
heart said, Alec, and Ben knew he was safe.
“Benny?” Alec rasped, uncertainty flashing through his eyes. “Are you⁠—you there?”
It was the same voice that had rumbled through the curtains. It was the same voice that
Ben had covered himself with, back in the safe spot in the whiteness. And Ben
remembered: that this was who he’d been searching for. This was who he’d entered the
curtains to find, back when there was so much pain.
Alec was Ben’s alpha. The enormity of it crashed down on him, and he remembered
everything else⁠—that terrible night, and William, and Izzy running away to safety. He
remembered Alec in this same room, Alec on one knee, Alec pounding on the door.
Alec wasn’t Ben’s alpha; Ben had broken up with him. Regret welled up in his chest,
closing his throat. I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have done that at all. “A-Alec?” Ben
croaked, afraid of what would happen now. They weren’t anything. He’d let his alpha
go. And Alec could’ve gone and chosen someone else.
“Gods, you’re back.” Alec blew out a shuddering breath, pressing their foreheads
together. His eyes blurred into a mess of gray, like an ocean sweeping around Ben. “I’m
so fucking sorry,” Alec whispered. “I’m so sorry I let you go. I had this whole speech
prepared for when⁠—when you woke and I just⁠—Oh, gods.”
Alec shook, his thumb caressing Ben’s cheek, his breath feathering over Ben’s lips. Ben
stared at him, his heart pounding. “You... haven’t chosen someone else?” Ben couldn’t
breathe. “I let you go so you could find another omega, and...”
Alec’s expression turned incredulous. “You⁠—You broke up with me for that? You think
I want another omega?”
Ben nodded, his throat tight. Even now, Alec could still decide to leave. Ben’s heart
squeezed with fear. “So you wouldn’t spend more on the bakery. You did all that, and
then it failed, and I didn’t want you to keep sinking money into me. I’m not all that⁠—
that great. William was right, you know. I’m just a coward⁠—”
Alec’s gaze softened, ever so intent. He cupped Ben’s face in his hands; one palm warm
and dry, the other wet and sticky. “We all get scared. Even me. Like when I found you
that night. You were on the ground, and I thought⁠—I thought I’d lost you, Benny.” His
voice broke. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t alive.”
Ben held his breath, Alec’s words sinking in. Alec wanted him around, he really did.
“Oh.”
“You’re the best and the most beautiful omega I’ve ever known,” Alec whispered, his
voice thick with emotion. “And I want you to be mine again. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I
wasn’t there when that bastard hurt you.”
Ben trembled. Even after all that pain, even after William had gouged wounds into his
chest... “You still think I’m beautiful?”
Alec nodded. “Yeah. Best in the world. I love you.”
Ben’s ears rang with those words. Even after everything Ben had done, even with all his
imperfections, Alec was still here. He still loved Ben. Humbled by the sheer depth of
Alec’s love, Ben bowed his head. “I love you, too,” he admitted. “Ever since we were
kids. If you’ll have me again, if you don’t mind that I left and I’m not perfect and...”
Alec tipped Ben’s face up, his smile stealing Ben’s breath away. “Be mine,” Alec
whispered, his eyes shining with hope. “Please.”
Relief flooded Ben, choking him up. “Yours.”
Alec smiled, a second before he brushed their lips together, capturing Ben in a sweet,
toe-curling kiss. Tingles scattered down Ben’s limbs; Alec’s mouth slid warm and eager
against his own, his teak scent filling Ben’s lungs, washing over him.
Ben ran his hands all over Alec, over his face and his neck and his chest, just to convince
himself that this was real. That he was no longer in that emptiness of dark and light, but
that he was back. That Alec wanted him.
He raked his nails over Alec’s bicep, pausing when Alec hissed. Ben broke the kiss,
concerned. “Alec?”
“It’s fine.” Alec kissed him. “Just sore.”
“What’s sore?” Ben leaned back, searching for a wound. Then he glimpsed the silvery
scar on Alec’s bicep, that hadn’t been there before. His heart ached. “When did you get
this?”
“Three weeks ago. William.” Alec gave a half-smile. “The night you went catatonic.”
“Three... weeks?” More importantly, William had stabbed Alec. Alec had been hurt.
“You fought with William.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. He found Izzy and threatened him.”
Ben’s stomach clenched. “Izzy⁠—”
“He’s fine. He wasn’t hurt at all. But he’s missed you.” Alec’s lips twitched. “We’ve
been reading the dragon book to you every night, you know.”
“Oh.” Ben breathed out the anxiety that had spiked through his chest. Three weeks.
He’d been out for so long. Izzy had been scared when William threatened him, hadn’t
he? What if William came back? “So, so... William...”
“He’s dead.” Alec looked ferocious, suddenly. “I made damn sure he was.”
Ben blinked. William was dead. For so long, Ben had wondered what it would be like, if
he never had to worry about that man again. He’d been afraid that William would hunt
down Izzy, he’d worried that William would use Izzy as leverage against Ben. “You...
killed him?”
Alec smiled, sharp and savage. “He fell into traffic.”
“Oh.” And a delighted sort of relief unfurled in Ben’s chest.
“Should I not have killed him?” Alec asked.
Except Alec’s protectiveness made Ben want to burrow against him. “Is it bad that I’m
happy he’s dead?”
Alec caught Ben’s chin with his fingertips. “No alpha will ever threaten you,” he
whispered. “Not when I’m around.”
Ben’s heart filled with gratitude. He leaned in, closing his eyes. “Thank you.”
Alec kissed his mouth, a light caress. But that intimate touch meant everything in the
world.
“About Ben’s Buns⁠—I’ll try to fix it,” Alec whispered. “I’m sorry I fucked up on the ad.
I’ll try harder. We’ll try other options, and I’ll⁠—”
Ben shook his head, his heart sinking. “No, no. Stop sinking money into me. I don’t
know if you’ll ever get it back. William might be right, you know. I might just keep
screwing up, and then you’ll be stuck supporting me, and I just... Gods, that’s so terrible
to think about.”
Alec stroked Ben’s hair, kissing his temple. “I don’t care about the money, Benny⁠—”
“Even if I drain it all?” Ben mumbled, hunching into himself.
“Even then.” Alec kissed him. “Rich or poor, you’ll be stuck with me.”
Ben frowned, trying to understand that. “You don’t mind?”
Alec shook his head. “I just want you to be happy. But more than that, Benny⁠—I believe
in Ben’s Buns, too. I believe it’ll work out, somehow. We just have to find the right way.
And I’ll be there with you the whole time.”
“Oh.” Ben swallowed hard, his chest squeezing. Alec believed in him. What if... there
was still a chance to save his bakery?
“It’ll work out,” Alec whispered, kissing him again. “You just woke up. Relax for a bit.
When was the last time you took a break from work? A real break. Being snowed in
doesn’t count.”
Ben couldn’t remember. Alec cracked a sad smile. “Let’s talk about the bakery when
you’ve recovered a bit more. Rest up for now.”
Ben allowed Alec to nuzzle him, distracting him from those depressing thoughts. Then,
because he remembered William’s threats, he pulled open his shirt, looking down. The
cuts on his chest had scarred up into pale lines, and his nipples were both still there.
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “I should go see Izzy⁠—”
“He’s asleep.” Alec huffed. “Everyone is. It’s 3AM, Benny.”

Ben glanced at the clock⁠—Alec spoke the truth. “So... why am I awake?” He scratched
at the itchy spot on his face, frowning when bits of drying, clumped-up stuff came off
on his nails.
Alec froze. “Before you jump to conclusions, I was trying to help.”
Ben frowned. “I don’t jump to conclusions!”
But Alec still looked uncomfortable. “The condom was on your cock,” he said, picking a
limp, clear sheath off the mattress. “And the lube was also for your cock.”
Ben stared at the things scattered on the bed, then at his own bare cock, and his hitched-
down trousers. His cock hurt. “I believe you. But why?”
Alec rolled his shoulders, flushing. “You’d been rutting at the bed for three hours,
Benny. It looked like you were gonna grind the skin off your cock, so I tried to help.
That was what the condom was for.”
Ben looked at the condom. “You tried to put a condom on me?” Somehow, that was so
funny that he giggled.
“Slipped right off.” Alec sighed.
“That was my first time.” Ben tried to imagine wearing a condom. “Did you at least
take a picture?”
“No. I was just trying to stop you from rubbing that pretty cock raw.” Alec still looked
uneasy. “So... I helped jerk you off. Sorry.”
He was a lot more uncomfortable about it than Ben expected him to be. Ben’s heart
softened; he reached out, cupping Alec’s face. “It’s okay, Alec,” Ben whispered. “I trust
you with my body.”
Relief flickered in Alec’s gaze. “You’re my greatest treasure, you know. I never, ever
want to hurt you.”
“I know.” Ben kissed him, his heart full. “I’m grateful.”
Alec sighed into their kiss, the tension draining from his shoulders.
“About the condom.” Ben wriggled his hips. “You could put one on me.”
Alec’s gaze darkened. “You’re ready, huh?” His voice dipped into a growl, yanking
Ben’s blood between his legs. Ben’s cock thickened; it only wanted to obey Alec now.
Ben’s time in the floating white space hadn’t felt like three weeks. But he remembered
the two weeks before that when they’d been apart, and that had already felt like
forever. To Alec, this entire stretch of time... that had felt a lot longer, hadn’t it? Ben
read Alec’s hunger in the intensity of his gaze, the tension that suddenly sparked red-
hot between them.
“Did you touch me these three weeks?” Ben asked, opening his legs so Alec knew what
he meant.
Alec had been about to set the lube aside. He dropped the bottle, prowling forward.
“No. Not until tonight. Wasn’t gonna unless you said yes.”
“Did you at least jerk off?”
“Sometimes.” But the way Alec’s gaze burned his skin, it felt like Alec had been
starving the entire time, whether he’d jerked off or not. Ben’s mouth went dry.
So he shoved his pajama pants down his legs, kicked it off, and spread his thighs wide
open.
Alec swore. He was upon Ben in an instant, pinning him down against the mattress.
Ben’s breath rushed out of his lungs. “Alec!”
Alec kissed him, hard and ferociously. He slid into Ben’s mouth, tangling their tongues,
a hungry, demanding presence that made Ben’s cock shove straight up, eager for touch.
“Mine,” Alec growled. He slid into Ben’s mouth, in and out, claiming him there. Then
he pushed his hand up Ben’s shirt, dragging his wrist over Ben’s chest. Marking Ben
with teak.
Ben grew wet just from his alpha’s markings. He writhed beneath Alec, spreading his
legs, trying to get Alec to mark him everywhere. “More. All yours.”
Alec groaned, ravenous. He rubbed his wrists over Ben’s nipples, then down his
midriff, to his belly. There was a baby bump there. “Baby,” Alec growled. “Ours.”
It hadn’t occurred to Ben that their baby could’ve been threatened. “Baby’s fine?” he
squeaked, suddenly worried.
Alec kissed him, deep and thoroughly. “Baby’s fine.”
And he dragged both his wrists over Ben’s belly, covering it with his scent. Relieved,
Ben moaned, lifting his hips. Alec brushed his wrist along Ben’s cock. Then he dragged
it back up, double-marking Ben there, up and down, around his tip, until there was no
part of Ben’s cock that wasn’t Alec’s. Gods, did it feel good.
“Touch there,” Ben panted, rolling his hips.
Alec cracked a smile. “Where?”
Ben spread his legs. “Here.”
“Uh-uh. Tell me, Benny.”
It made Ben feel so shameless, pointing it out. “M-my cock,” he said, his face burning
up.
“Yeah?” Alec grinned. “Which part of your cock?” Just to get on Ben’s nerves, he
stroked only the very base of it.
Ben growled, shoving his hips up. “All of it!”
Alec rumbled, closing his fist around Ben’s cock and balls. His grip was hot, heavy, like
he had every ounce of power over Ben. Ben throbbed, his balls growing tight. “A-Alec!”
His legs shook; his hole leaked. Alec tugged on Ben’s cock, squeezing his balls so Ben
felt it all the way in his core. Ben panted, shoving his cock against Alec’s palm, trying to
make Alec touch him more.
Alec groaned. “This. Exactly this. You were just like this earlier. Needy. You wanted
me.”
He tightened his fist around Ben’s cock, sliding it down, increasing the pressure so Ben
writhed, bliss pounding between his thighs. His cock stung, too, from earlier. But the
pleasure was so great that Ben couldn’t stop shaking, little whimpers falling from his
lips.
“I should help keep you quiet,” Alec whispered, pressing a sucking kiss to Ben’s neck.
He increased the intensity of his sucking; Ben thrashed, gasping and moaning, his cock
growing so hard, it hurt. Alec sucked another love bite into Ben’s skin, then another.
“But I love hearing you. Mine, Benny.”
And he rubbed two fingers over Ben’s hole, pushing them in. Ben cried out, his hole
stretching around his alpha. Alec found his prostate. Then he pressed down on it,
rubbing it over and over, until Ben writhed in his arms, starting that blissful climb
toward ecstasy.
“Alec,” Ben moaned.

Alec thrust his fingers deep, all the way to his knuckles, and a wave of pleasure ripped
through Ben’s insides. He clenched around Alec, his balls pulling tight, come spurting
shamelessly onto his belly as he gasped for breath.
Alec leaned in, claiming Ben’s mouth, his fingers still working inside Ben’s body. Ben
squirmed; he loved that pleasure. But he also needed to recover, because these
sensations were all so intense.
“Alec, Alec, please,” Ben panted.
But Alec only shoved down hard on that spot inside. He kept at it, massaging it, and a
second wave of pleasure tore through Ben, his cock jerking even though it had no more
to shoot. Ben whined and thrashed, his ass clenching around his alpha.
“Fuck, Benny,” Alec rasped.
Ben throbbed, utterly at his alpha’s mercy.
Alec leaned in, licking Ben’s come off his belly, rolling it around in his mouth. “So
fucking amazing. All mine.”
“Yours,” Ben panted, half-delirious with the aftershocks of his orgasms.
Alec cupped the back of Ben’s head, lifting him up to give him a deep kiss. Ben tasted
himself on Alec’s tongue⁠—musky and salty and bitter⁠—and blushed. Alec licked Ben’s
lower lip, pushing his tongue back in. He was even more shameless. And Ben loved him
for it.
“Time to get that condom on,” Alec murmured. He kissed down Ben’s jaw to his
collarbones, then further down, to his chest and his belly. Alec dropped a few more
kisses there, before pausing at Ben’s exhausted cock. “Think you can come for me
again?”
Ben whimpered. His legs were still trembling with the aftershocks of his pleasure. “I
don’t know.”
Alec grinned. “Guess we’ll see.”
He kissed Ben’s cock lightly, dragging Ben’s foreskin away from his tip, before kissing
him there. Pleasure shot down Ben’s nerves; he jerked. And Alec smiled, pleased,
kissing all over Ben’s sac. He took Ben’s balls into his hot mouth, sucking lightly on
them, each spike of pressure shooting up Ben’s spine. Then he licked down Ben’s taint,
to his hole, and withdrew his fingers.
“Gonna claim you here, Benny.” Alec kissed Ben’s hole, licking it tenderly. “But I’ll
have to prep you first.”
Ben’s entire body flushed with heat. Whenever Alec prepped him, it meant he was
going to claim Ben roughly, thoroughly, so hard that Ben would feel it well into the next
morning. Ben loved it. He loved feeling like he belonged, he loved feeling Alec’s
markings inside with every step he took.
So he reached down to grasp his cheeks, presenting for his alpha.
Alec’s breath punched out. He panted, cupping Ben’s thighs, kissing his exposed hole.
Then he pushed his tongue in, a soft, damp pressure. Ben groaned and squirmed, his
ass aching with how much slick it made, getting ready for his alpha’s cock. “P-please,”
he begged.
Alec answered with a slow, hot lick, right over Ben’s hole. Then he pushed his tongue
deep.
Somehow, Ben’s cock grew thick again. Maybe it was the way Alec made tender love to
Ben’s hole. Or maybe it was the way Alec met his eyes as he dipped his tongue inside.
Ben squirmed and writhed, his cock straining. Alec grasped it in his hot fist, pumping
pleasure into Ben’s body. Ben shuddered.
“Love the way you get so hard for me.” Alec took a foil packet, ripped it open, and
pressed the rolled-up condom over Ben’s tip. Then, with their gazes locked, he kissed
along the tender underside of Ben’s cock, and rolled the condom down over it. “If this
were a movie,” Alec murmured, “It would be called ‘A Condom For My Omega’.”
Ben choked on his laughter. “What?”
“Have you seen the latest movie titles?” Alec grinned. “There’re some really cheesy
ones this December.”
“I haven’t.” Ben wriggled. “You should show them to me.”
“Maybe later.” Alec winked, tugging on the loose condom. “Picture first.”
It felt so strange, wearing a condom. Ben never had to⁠—he was omega, and it wasn’t
like he’d ever put his cock into anyone’s ass. There weren’t even condoms sized for
omegas on the market. This one felt like a wet plastic bag had gotten stuck onto him,
muting some of the sensations of Alec’s fist.
“How do you like it?” Alec bit down his smile. “Does it make you feel like an alpha?”
Ben coughed. “No. Honestly, I’m surprised anyone wears it. It’s better when it’s just
your hand around me.”
Alec pulled out his phone, taking a couple of photos of Ben’s cock in the condom.
“Smile,” he said. “You’re in the picture, too.”
Ben laughed. “Are you sure you want that?”
“Yeah⁠—this is the night you came back. But our grandkids won’t see it.” Alec wriggled
his finger into the condom alongside Ben’s cock, taking a picture of that, too. “Here’s
my finger and your cock on a date.”
Ben snorted. “Alec!”
“Two fingers?” Alec squeezed another in. “Would it be a threesome if there’s two of me
and one of you?”
“I don’t know! At least my cock’s bigger than your fingers.” Ben wheezed, trying to
stop laughing. Alec wriggled his fingers around Ben’s cock, stroking it up and down, so
little sparks of pleasure flickered into him.
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny anymore. Ben’s cock thickened, and a moan slipped
out of his throat.
“Feel good?” Alec growled. He ground his fingers along the sensitive underside of
Ben’s cock, stroking away the sting.
Ben bit his lip, shoving his hips at his alpha. It always felt like magic, whenever Alec
touched him. “More.”
Alec smiled. He pressed kisses all over Ben’s thighs, up the crease of his groin, and then
pulled his fingers out of the condom. “Time to claim you, Benny.” And his voice
reverberated through Ben, all the way down to his hole. Ben trembled, forgetting to
breathe.
He watched as Alec leaned back, peeling off his shirt. Alec’s pecs flexed in the
lamplight, his thighs rippling as he kicked off his sleeping shorts. And now Alec was
completely naked, his cock jutting up, thick and hungry, ready for Ben. Ben gulped, his
hole fluttering in response.
“I love that look on your face.” Alec knelt in front of Ben, hooking his fingers into the
hem of Ben’s shirt. With a swift tug, it slipped off, leaving both of them naked⁠—just Ben
and Alec, alpha and omega.
Alec swept his burning gaze down Ben’s body, lighting up every last nerve. Ben’s
insides grew hot, his hole squeezing, more than ready for his alpha. “All yours,” he
said, his throat parched.
With a growl, Alec grasped Ben’s ankle. He spread Ben’s legs wide and wrapped them
around his waist⁠—so Ben couldn’t close them anymore. Ben shivered, his hole leaking;
Alec saw that, too.
“So beautiful,” Alec whispered. His heavy cock nudged against Ben’s balls, his precome
dripping onto Ben’s cock, warm and clear. Ben groaned, his entire body aching with
desire. And Alec leaned in, gathering Ben into his arms, sealing their lips in a slow,
sweet kiss. “Gonna claim you tonight, Benny. Gonna make you all mine.”
“Now, please.”
Alec groaned, grinding their cocks together. This shoved the condom up and away, so
their cocks kissed, skin on bare skin. Alec’s precome smeared all over Ben. Ben flushed,
closing his fist around Alec’s cock. It was damp, burning a promise into his skin. Alec
growled and snapped his hips. His cock shoved roughly into Ben’s fist, just like how it
would claim him inside.
Heat pulsed between Ben’s legs. “Alec, now.”
Alec swore, wrapping his hand around Ben’s, holding Ben’s fist against his cock. Then
he fucked in again, a hard thrust, precome smearing down his length. Ben’s voice broke.
“Need,” he gasped.
Alec swore, slanting their lips together in a hot, ravenous kiss. He thrust into Ben’s
mouth, at the same time his cock slid against Ben’s palm, thick and heavy. And they
spread more precome over it, until it was slippery, until Ben’s ass ached with need.
“Want this, Benny? Want me to give you a baby with my big cock?”
Ben was already pregnant. But the thought of Alec giving him another... Musk rolled off
his skin. Alec groaned and fucked his hand again, and then he caught Ben’s knee and
pinned it wide open. Ben gasped, spreading his legs, offering Alec his hole. “Please,
Alec. Inside.”
Alec groaned, angling his cock down. His blunt tip ground against Ben’s entrance, thick
and hungry. Ben leaked onto him. And Alec snapped his hips, slamming his entire cock
inside.
Ben screamed, taking every single inch. Alec burned a trail of pleasure into his body,
groaning as their hips met and he pushed in until he could go no further. Then he
grasped Ben’s hips and held still, so Ben’s body stretched around him, trying to get
used to his sheer size.
“So damn tight for me,” Alec panted.
Their gazes met. Ben tried to catch his breath, even as Alec pressed kisses all over his
face. “Mine,” Alec growled, snapping his hips. His cock slid into Ben, pulling out,
sliding back inside, each movement sending a thrum of pleasure up Ben’s spine. “Love
how when I fuck into you, Benny, your pretty cock just stands right up.”
Ben flushed self-consciously. “More,” he pleaded, digging his nails into Alec’s back.
“Harder.”
Alec’s smile was dark, handsome. “How much harder?”
Ben groaned. “All of it.”
Alec thrust in so hard that Ben slid against the sheets. And Alec pulled him back,
holding him down, cramming every last inch of his cock back inside. “That feel good?”
Alec growled. “You like my cock inside?”
Ben’s only answer was a choked-off moan.
Alec rolled his hips and plunged his cock back in. It felt like a thundercrack of bliss, it
felt like fierce love, when Alec held Ben down and pleasured him, until Ben thrashed
and panted and gasped, his body stretched open, his cock so hard that he needed to
touch it, but he was too busy trying to hang on.
He clung onto Alec, gasping as Alec began a hard rhythm, pounding into him, his cock
grinding sheer bliss into Ben’s body, until Ben’s eyes rolled back in his head and he
could only feel his alpha around him, inside him, Alec’s body a cage of safety as Ben
unraveled in his arms.
Alec leaned in, capturing Ben’s lips in a sloppy, ragged kiss. “Come for me, Benny,”
Alec growled, his cock deep inside Ben. “I want to feel you cream yourself. Wanna
make you feel good.”
Ben shuddered, panting too hard to answer. Alec slammed in, his cock an unyielding
pressure, a deep thrust that said, Mine. Ben spasmed, his hole leaking, his balls pulled
tight, needing to unload.
“I love you,” Alec rasped in his ear.
And Ben came apart, his body clenching, his spine arching, his toes curling as he
spurted over and over, pleasure saturating every cell of his being.
Alec swore, his thrusts growing feverish. He plunged into Ben through his climax,
massaging Ben’s prostate until all Ben knew was Alec’s name. Then he bit down hard
on Ben’s shoulder and thrust in deep, his cock swelling, flooding Ben with his come.
Ben moaned, squeezing around his alpha. He loved that Alec was filling him up, he
loved that Alec had claimed him. “Mark me,” Ben pleaded, tilting his head, offering the
scent gland at his neck.
For a breathless moment, Alec met his eyes. “You’re sure,” Alec panted, his skin damp
with sweat.
Ben nodded. “You were everything that made me feel safe, back when I was... in that
place. Your scent, your voice. Then I found the curtains that led back here, and I could
smell you. I heard you. You were calling my name. You’re everything to me, Alec.”
Alec bowed his head, growling low in his chest. Then he leaned in, kissing the crook of
Ben’s neck, right on his scent gland. “Never been bonded before,” Alec whispered. “I
only ever wanted to be bonded with you.”
Ben’s throat grew tight. “William was a mistake. But there’s Izzy, and I can’t regret that
I was with William because that’s how I got Izzy, you know? But⁠—But if I could undo
things and only keep the good parts...”
Alec cupped Ben’s face, kissing him softly on the lips. “Yeah, I understand. Izzy’s the
best. You raised him well, you know. I⁠—I want to be his dad, too, if that’s okay with
you.”
He looked uncertain, watching Ben as though Ben would turn him down. Ben’s heart
swelled. As though he would ever say no to his alpha. “It’s okay with me.” Ben’s voice
broke. “It’s more than okay, Alec. I wanted to ask you before this, but I wasn’t sure.”
Alec smiled, kissing him harder. Tears spilled out of Ben’s eyes, and Alec kissed them
away. “Mine.” Alec slid out of Ben, kissing down his chest, to Ben’s baby bump. Then
he kissed Ben there, murmuring so his voice vibrated into Ben’s belly, “Hey, little one.
I’m your other dad. Just wanted to say hi. I didn’t think I was ready to be a dad yet,
these past couple months. But I realized that I realized that I want to stick with your
dad through everything. All the good and the bad. And I’m more ready to be a dad
now. I got you some clothes, you know. One of them looks like a rock. I hope your dad
gets the joke.”
Ben laughed through his tears. “Alec! Why’d you even get the gray one? You’re not
supposed to have rocks lying around, you know. Izzy will ask about it, and then⁠—”
“And then you’ll have to hide this rock?” Alec grinned, rubbing his growing knot
against Ben’s leg.
“Where am I going to hide it?” Ben flushed. “If Izzy mentions rocks to Gran⁠—”
“We’ll keep it our little secret.” Alec kissed him. “Here, I know a good spot for this
rock.”
He crowded back against Ben, slipping his cock back inside. His knot bumped against
Ben’s entrance, though, at half-size and still growing. “Think you can hide it for me?”
Ben’s cheeks grew warm. “You’re so bad, Alec.”
Alec rolled his hips, rubbing Ben inside with his cock. “You’ll have to give me an
answer pretty soon, Benny, or it won’t fit inside you.”
Ben flushed, but he spread his legs. “Here, hide it.”
Alec laughed, gathering Ben into his arms. Ever so slowly, he pushed his knot against
Ben, a blunt pressure against Ben’s hole that opened it, stretching it, until Alec’s knot
slid into him, heavy and wide. Then it was inside, Ben’s body closing around it, locking
them together.
“Fits perfectly,” Alec growled, pressing his knot deeper into Ben. Pleasure hummed
into their bodies, and they groaned.
Someone knocked on the door. Ben tensed around his alpha. Alec hissed, his cock
jerking in response. “Who’s there?”
They fumbled with the sheets, Alec flinging the covers haphazardly over themselves,
leaving just their heads visible. The door opened.
Mom poked her head into the room, her hair tousled, her eyes squinted shut. “Ben, I’m
glad you’re back,” she said awkwardly. “But could you boys maybe... tone down a
little? I need to wake up early for work tomorrow.”
Ben flushed. Next to him, Alec’s ears turned pink. “Sorry,” Alec said. “We’ll keep it
down.”
Mom gave a wry smile. “Thanks.” Then she disappeared back into the hallway,
shutting the door behind her.
They looked at each other, Ben squirming in embarrassment. “Did Mom... hear all of
that?”
Alec winced. “Gods, I hope not. I, uh. I said some pretty dirty things, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
They sat in silence for a few awkward moments, until Alec asked, “Think I can keep it
down?” He flexed his cock, his knot tugging against Ben’s hole. Ben had to cover his
mouth to stifle his moan. Alec’s gaze darkened.
He leaned in, pulling Ben into a loose embrace. Then he kissed the scent gland on Ben’s
neck. “I haven’t forgotten, you know,” Alec whispered. “If the offer still stands.”
Ben stopped breathing. “You’ll mark me?” he blurted.
Alec’s response was to nip at that sensitive spot. “My dream, Benny-bunny, the one
thing I never thought I could have⁠—was to have you as mine.”
Ben’s breath snagged in his throat. “You didn’t have to ask,” he whispered. “I’m all
yours.”
Alec looked pensive. “I want to ask anyway. I’ve made mistakes in the past. Mistakes
that I could’ve solved, if I’d just asked what you’d felt.”
Ben huffed. “Like that Spin-the-Bottle game?”
“First time we kissed.” Alec grinned lopsidedly. “I thought about it for years.”
“Me, too.”
They shared a quiet smile, Alec brushing his fingers through Ben’s hair. Ben tilted his
head in invitation. And Alec gave his scent gland a soft kiss. Then he raked his teeth
against the sensitive skin, and bit down hard.
Pain and pleasure shot down Ben’s nerves; he jerked, a moan slipping from his throat.
Alec had marked him. And it felt so good, wearing it on his skin.
Alec kissed away the sting, looking hopeful. “Do you think you’d...”
He tilted his head, too, his eyes bright. Ben’s heart swelled for him. “Yes,” Ben
whispered, leaning in.
He’d never marked an alpha before. Ben sniffed along the crook of Alec’s shoulder,
until he found the spot that smelled most strongly of teak. He kissed it. “You’re sure.”
Alec laughed. “I bought you a⁠—Well. I mean, I’ve already marked you, Benny. Of
course I want it.”
Ben narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “What did you buy?”
Alec’s cheeks turned pink. “Nothing.”

“Alec Miller!”
“Mark me.” Alec smiled, and Ben’s heart melted.
He left the question for later, licking over Alec’s scent gland. For a moment, he
acknowledged the enormity of this⁠—taking an alpha for himself. Alec. The stepbrother
he’d grown up loving. The alpha who had given him so much, and who expected so
little in return.
Ben pressed his teeth against Alec’s scent gland, filling his lungs with teak. Then he bit
down hard. Alec hissed, his cock jerking. It was intimate beyond belief, feeling Alec’s
reaction inside his body.
When Ben pulled away, droplets of blood rose on Alec’s skin⁠—a permanent marking.
He stared, his heart thumping. He’d made a commitment to Alec now. And he wasn’t
walking away.
Alec rumbled, hugging Ben tight. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you.” Ben turned this over in his mind, trying to believe that he’d
actually marked Alec, that this alpha was entirely his.
Alec smiled warmly, giving Ben a warm, sweet kiss. “Tell you what, why don’t we
thank each other a little more? I have some ideas.”
He rocked his hips against Ben, drawing a laugh from Ben’s lips.
“Anything you want,” Ben said, wanting to give Alec everything⁠—because that was
what Alec had done for him, too.
Alec grinned. “Anything? You’re sure?”
Ben nodded. And Alec rolled them over, so Ben lay on top of him. “Have you thought
about names?” Alec murmured, stroking Ben’s belly.
After all that innuendo, it wasn’t something Ben expected. It filled him with delight,
anyway. “Not yet.” He snuggled close to his alpha, his heart at peace. “But we can do
that.”
T HE NEXT MORNING , they woke early, making breakfast together. Gran was the first to
step into the kitchen.
Ben stiffened when she surveyed them over her glasses. “Morning, Gran,” he said. “I’m,
uh, making bread rolls.”
Surprise flickered through her eyes. “You’re back.” Gran hobbled over, almost
disbelieving. She waved her hand in front of his face; her eyebrows rose when he
leaned back. “I thought you weren’t coming back from where that bad alpha sent you,”
she said.
Ben cringed. “You know about William?”
Gran glanced at Alec, who had stepped over, wrapping his arm possessively around
Ben’s waist. She frowned. Ben squirmed. His instincts told him to step away from Alec,
except Ben had made a promise; they weren’t hiding their bonding anymore.
“Yeah, I told her,” Alec said. “I brought him back last night, Gran.”
Gran’s gaze dropped to the new marking on Ben’s neck, that Alec had cleaned with a
damp cloth earlier. Then she looked at the matching bite mark on Alec’s neck.
“Sorry, not gonna break up with him again,” Alec growled. “Once is more than
enough.”
Ben flushed, waiting for her to chide them, and tell them how disappointed she was.
Instead, Gran cracked a smile. “I’ve never seen another alpha do that for an omega,” she
told Ben. “The last time I did, it was your Grandpa, when he was still alive.”
Ben stared. Then he looked to Alec for answers. “What did you do?”
Alec shrugged, looking sheepish. “Stuff?”
“He brushed your hair every day,” Gran said. “When you were in that place. Alec fed
you himself. He brought you to go potty. And he clipped your nails and sang songs.”
Ben stopped breathing. Oh. He turned to look at Alec, who was blushing. “Well, Mom
and Gran helped when I was on duty,” Alec mumbled.
That was still two whole days, out of three. “You didn’t tell me,” Ben said, his throat
tight with gratitude.
“I didn’t need you to know.” Alec shrugged, pressing a kiss to Ben’s temple. “I don’t
want you to feel like you owe me anything.”
Ben kind of did, but it didn’t change how much he loved Alec. “Thank you,” he said
again.
Alec squeezed his waist, smiling warmly.
Gran took Ben’s fingers in her gnarled hand, meeting his eyes. “I judged you,” she said
solemnly. Then she took Alec’s hand, too. And she brought Ben and Alec’s hands
together, linking their fingers. “I should have listened.”
Ben swallowed his surprise. “You don’t... mind that we’re stepbrothers?” he asked, not
daring to breathe.
Gran smiled wryly. “I spoke with your Ma,” she said. “She knew. She said you’ve been
like that since you were children.”
She patted their hands, and pulled them into a hug. Ben’s throat grew tight. Alec
blinked hard, squeezing Ben’s waist. Then he hugged her, too.
“So when are you going to marry Ben?” Gran leaned back, narrowing her eyes at Alec.
“You put a child in his belly, you’re going to marry him.”
Alec flushed to his hairline. “Gran!”
Ben’s eyes almost fell out of his head. He wasn’t prepared for that. And he couldn’t help
remembering Alec’s proposal with a pang of guilt.
“Hm?” Gran looked sternly at Alec.
Alec met Ben’s eyes, squirming a little. “I, uh.”
“It should be Alec’s choice,” Ben said.
“Psh, his choice!” Gran scowled at Alec. “He knew he should when he had you in his
bed!”
Alec turned a darker red. This was getting awkward. Ben didn’t know how to save his
alpha from Gran. “What if I propose to Alec?” he asked.
“No!” said both Alec and Gran.
Well, there went that option. At least, for now. Ben looked around the kitchen, perking
up when footsteps pattered toward them.
Izzy flew through the kitchen doorway, looking around. “Uncle Alec? Grandma said
you had a surprise for me⁠—”
Ben stepped toward him, his chest growing tight. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it
had been for Izzy these three weeks. “Hon. Uncle Alec told me you’ve been really
brave.”
Izzy looked up. He met Ben’s eyes, surprise stark on his little face. Ben knelt and
opened his arms, and Izzy gave a wail, crashing into Ben’s chest. “Daddy!”
Ben hugged him, breathing in his clean soap scent. In his arms, Izzy trembled, his eyes
welling up with tears. “Don’t cry,” Ben whispered, kissing his forehead. “It’s not a sad
thing, is it?”
“I’m so happy.” Izzy’s voice cracked, and Ben couldn’t help tearing up along with him.
Izzy hugged Ben tight, sniffling. Ben regretted that he hadn’t been there for his baby
boy, when Izzy had needed him most.
“I’m sorry, hon,” Ben whispered. “I’ll make it up to you, too.”
Izzy didn’t hear; Ben didn’t expect him to. Over his shoulder, Ben saw Mom descending
the stairs, shadows under her eyes.
“Thanks, Ben,” she said dryly.
Ben winced. “Sorry?”
But Mom smiled, coming over to ruffle his hair. “I’m just glad you’re back,” she said,
crouching to hug Ben and Izzy, too.
On Ben’s other side, Alec joined in, enclosing them all in a great bear hug. Then he
kissed Ben’s cheek and nuzzled his ear, and Ben felt truly welcomed home.
⁠
“C AN WE TURN THIS INTO A SNAKE ?” seven-year-old Caleb Davis asked, pointing at a
folded-up canvas hose.
Next to him, Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “A snake!”
“Yeah! Like, that’s its mouth.” Caleb shoved his round glasses up his nose, prodding at
the hose nozzle. “Then we can put eyes on it, and⁠—and we can make it a stripy snake!”
“Like a Christmas snake?” Izzy bounced on his feet, Caleb’s cheer spreading to him.
“All red and green?”
Alec laughed, shaking his head. “Not that hose, no,” he said, crouching next to them.
“We still need to take that truck out to fight fires, you know.”
“Aw.” Both boys drooped.
“But. I know another hose you can use,” Alec said, because he really didn’t want to see
those two disappointed. “Lemme check with that Santa over there⁠—he’s my boss⁠—and
maybe you’ll get to paint some snakes.”
Izzy perked up. “You’re the best, Uncle Alec.”
Alec’s chest filled with warmth. He ruffled Izzy’s hair, looking forward to tonight. That
was when he was planning to ask Izzy, if he could be Izzy’s dad. It made him a little
nervous. But more than that, Ben was going to be around. And Alec had a ring in his
pocket, that maybe Ben might accept this time.
He tried to ignore his thumping heart, heading over to Harris. The A-team leader was
in a full Santa outfit⁠—it was Christmas Eve, after all⁠—and his husband, Valen, the C-
team leader, was straightening Harris’ snow-white beard.
“For gods’ sakes, Big H,” Valen grumbled. “Stop moving around. Your beard’s gonna
fall off.”
“It’s itchy,” Harris muttered.
“Are you sure he needs a beard?” Their omega, Sam, laughed. “I prefer Harris without.
Santas aren’t required to have beards, are they?”
“What about half a beard?” Alec asked. “Cut it straight down the middle.”
Valen snorted. Sam grinned. And Harris sighed. “What do you need, Alec?” Harris
asked, holding very still while Valen pinned the beard to his Santa hat.
Alec smiled sheepishly. “You know that old hose in the back, the one that’s so cracked
up it’s been marked for disposal? Can it be, uh, repurposed? Into a snake?”
Harris snorted. Valen coughed, accidentally jabbing him with the safety pin. “Ow,”
Harris said. “Yeah, sure. But be responsible with that snake, Alec.”
Still coughing, Valen lifted Harris’ fake mustache and kissed his lips. “You know, if you
don’t watch out, the entire station and its children, and all their friends, will be talking
about snakes,” Valen said.
“Can’t beat Caleb telling his teachers about it,” Alec said dryly. “York said he and Perry
were called in to the headmaster’s office.”
Laughter followed him to the storage room, where the old hose was. Ever since Caleb
told the station about snakes, it had become a running joke amongst all of them. And
despite York and Perry’s best efforts to stem the snake jokes, Caleb’s obsession with
them had only grown.
Alec found a few sets of poster paint, hefted up the hose, and returned to where Caleb
and Izzy waited by Truck 1. “Here,” Alec said, leading them to a quiet corner of the
garage where no one would run into them. “I got you some paints. But be careful not to
trip anyone with your snake!”
The boys cheered, eagerly pouncing on the paints. “Do you think snakes have knots on
their dicks?” Izzy asked Caleb.
Alec was about to head off, but he couldn’t help listening in. What had Gran told Izzy
about knots, anyway?
Izzy and Caleb stared at their new snake-hose. “I don’t know,” Caleb said slowly.
“There weren’t any knots in the pictures we found.”
“But snakes are magic, right?” Izzy asked. “What if they’re hiding their knots? And
they’re really, really big?”
Then he looked at Alec’s hips. “Are you going to put a knot in your pants again?”
Alec choked on his spit. “What?”
Ben had been on the way over; he heard Izzy’s question and paled. “Izzy!”
Izzy looked curiously at them. “Gran said alphas get knots when they really like
omegas. Then they give the knots to their omegas. But where do you put them? Can
you take them off? Why didn’t you give your knot to Daddy? You left it in your pants.”
Alec moved his mouth, trying to think of an answer. Around them, some of the other
alphas had looked over with amused grins. Alec wished he knew what to say.
“Well?” Ben grinned, coming over to nudge Alec in the side. “What do you have to tell
us about knots, Uncle Alec?”
“I think the imps like knots,” Caleb said. “Sometimes they hide in pants, too.” He began
looking around the station at everyone’s pants. “But don’t they have arms and legs?
How come they aren’t wriggling when I see them? Wouldn’t it be awfully stinky hiding
in someone else’s pants?”
“Ew,” Izzy said.
“Well, maybe they turn into carrots,” Alec suggested. “And the knots aren’t permanent.
They go away.”
Izzy frowned. “Why would you give Daddy something that goes away?”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Ben explained. “Kind of like how you give someone
flowers. It cheers them up, right? The flowers don’t stick around forever, but the
memory does. That’s the important part.”
“Aw, Ben.” Alec’s heart lifted; he pulled Ben against himself, kissing his omega on the
lips. Trust Ben to turn knots into something meaningful⁠—not that they weren’t, Alec just
preferred to use his knot for his omega’s pleasure. In a lower voice, he added, “You
saved me there.”
Ben flushed. “I’m just returning the favor. You saved me.”
Alec looked into those blue eyes, his heart skipping. Now wasn’t the right time to ask⁠—
he had a list of things to do. But the ring weighed heavy in his pocket, like a second
chance.
Ben squeaked when Alec stroked down his thigh. He flushed and squirmed away,
reaching for his pocket. Then he decided against it, snatching his hand away.
Alec linked their fingers, his curiosity piqued. “What’s in your pocket?” he rumbled.
Ben turned pinker. “Nothing!”

The pocket of his flannel pants looked empty, save for a small rectangle outlined
against the fabric. That was odd. Alec reached out to poke at it, and Ben danced away.
What could be so important that Alec wasn’t allowed to touch?
“Is that my Christmas present?” Alec asked. But Ben had already given him a pair of
warm gloves this morning.
Ben looked extremely shifty. “Maybe?”
Alec frowned. “I don’t have a second present for you.” Just a ring.
Ben shook his head fervently. “You don’t have to give me another. It’s fine.”
“Yes, I do.” Alec looked around the garage, tugging Ben over to the refreshments table,
where Ben had brought some cookies to share with the rest of the station. He wanted to
give Ben a second present, too. But what?
There was a row of gingerbread man cookies left. Alec picked up a big one. But giving
Ben the cookies he’d baked wasn’t so special. So Alec picked up a little gummy snake,
and stuck it to the gingerbread man’s hips.
Ben stared, his eyes growing wide. “Alec, no.”
“Are you afraid it’ll drop off?” Alec squished the end of the snake against the cookie, so
it got sticky and stuck. Then he picked up a couple of gumdrops⁠—they were too big,
really⁠—and stuck them at the base of the snake. “Ah, shit. I gave him blue balls.”
Ben covered his mouth, trying to suppress his laughter. “Alec! There’s children
around!”
“Yeah, so you have to eat him really quickly.” He handed the gingerbread man over.
“Hurry, eat his balls first.”
Ben took the cookie, glancing around to make sure no one saw. He couldn’t fit his
mouth between the gingerbread man’s legs, so he bit in sideways, from the waist.
Halfway through, one of the gumdrops unstuck, rolling off onto the floor. The other
followed soon after.
“That’s tragic.” Alec shook his head. “His blue balls fell off. You were too late, Benny.”
Ben groaned, trying to cram the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “Not funny, Alec!”
Alec grinned, kissing the corner of his lips. The gumdrop rolled toward a pair of tiny
feet, and tiny hands reached down for it.
“Riley, no! Don’t pick that up. Don’t put it in your mouth!” Flores yelped, pulling the
gumdrop out of his son’s fist. Flores was a painter, and also a regular at Ben’s Buns.
Next to him, his alpha laughed. Gareth was older, one of the firefighters that Alec really
looked up to. “That’s not the worst thing he’s put in his mouth, Flower.”
“Are you sure?” Alec asked. “That was a gingerbread man’s blue balls. Blue ball.”
Gareth glanced at Alec, then at Ben cramming the last of the cookie into his mouth. “So
are you gonna pop the question, or...?”
Ben froze and flushed a bright red.
Alec groaned. It felt like everyone on his team had asked him that at least twice. “Don’t
you dare, Gareth,” he growled.
Gareth smirked. “Ben, on behalf of your alpha here⁠—”
Flores grabbed a gingerbread man and stuck its head into Gareth’s mouth. “There.” He
beamed. “Did you see the gummy snakes? Should I feed Gareth some snakes, too?”
“Maybe he needs a bigger snake,” Alec muttered. Gareth rolled his eyes.
Flores brightened. “You mean, like a jumbo carrot?”
Gareth swallowed his mouthful of cookie. “Flores wants to contribute some carrots to
the wedding, by the way.”
“Wedding? But you’re already married...” Ben paused, and then his eyes grew wide.
“Oh.” He glanced at Alec, squirming. Gareth meant their wedding. And Alec hadn’t
even proposed yet, damn it.
“Yeah, we grew about a hundred of them.” Gareth grinned. “I don’t think we’ll use the
crooked ones.”
“You won’t?” Ben frowned. “Why not? You could just chop them up and...”
“Gareth doesn’t grow things for eating, Benny,” Alec said. “He’s gonna use them.”
Flores broke into a coughing fit, his ears turning pink.
Ben looked confused, until the moment it hit him. Then he flushed. And now Alec knew
his omega was thinking about taking a carrot up his ass. Would Ben enjoy that?
“We might eat them after,” Gareth said mildly.
Flores looked revolted. “No! I hate carrots.”

“You say that.” Gareth led him away, their voices fading. “But they make you sing so
loudly, Flower.”
Ben and Alec watched as they wandered off, still discussing carrots. “So,” Alec said.
“What about carrots?”
Ben bit his lip. “They are pretty slippery after you peel them.”
“I’m not proposing to you with a carrot in your butt,” Alec said. And then he wanted to
kick himself.
Ben groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Alec looked away, too. “Good.”
York bustled past them with an armful of fairy lights. “Some help here, Alec? Unless
you’ve got a ring⁠—”
“Damn it,” Alec muttered.
“Maybe you should help him,” Ben said awkwardly. “I need some ketchup.”
That made Alec pause. “Ketchup?”
“With milk.” Ben looked uncertain. “There’s milk around, right?” He rubbed his belly,
and Alec melted.
“Yeah, there’s some in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
Ben brightened. “Would you like a glass, too? It’ll be warm milk with lots of ketchup in
it.”
That sounded really bad. Alec shrugged. “I’ll taste a bit of yours.”
With a smile, Ben wandered off. Alec hurried to help York with stringing the lights on
their trucks. “You never mentioned,” Alec said. “How did that meeting with the
headmaster go?”
York winced, glancing at his omega, Perry, who was now with Izzy and Caleb. “We got
a warning. Didn’t help that the Tadpole was drawing snakes in everyone’s pants for art
class.”
“Gods.” At least Izzy hadn’t started doing it, too.
“But you should see the firetruck he drew.” York swelled with pride. “That had snakes
all over it. He showed it to Harris to convince him to paint snakes on a truck.”
Alec laughed. “Did Harris approve it?”
“Actually, he did. But not for today⁠—for a school project next year.”
Alec imagined driving a firetruck covered in snake drawings, and grinned.
“Caleb, no!” Perry yelled suddenly.
They looked up, only to find Caleb and Izzy hefting up their half-painted canvas snake.
Then they dashed through the garage, the hose unfolding behind them, winding to and
fro as Caleb attempted not to crash into people.
“Look out, there’s a snaaaake!” Izzy yelled.
“Incoming!” Caleb shouted.
Nearby, Riley squealed, waving his hands in the air.
People scattered. Across the garage, Alec met their team leader’s eyes, and quailed a
little.
“Damn, that’s some snake.” York had his phone out, snapping pictures.
Alec punched his arm. “Dude, Harris is gonna roast me for this.”
He climbed off the truck, reaching out to grab Caleb and Izzy as they scampered past.
“Hey,” Alec said, almost regretting that he had to ruin their fun. “That snake is gonna
trip people up. Bring it back to your dad.”
“Aww,” Caleb and Izzy said.
Further down their snake-hose, Alec spotted an oddly-shaped painting. It looked kind
of like an apple. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a snake knot!” Izzy grinned. “It decided to carry around a rock and it became a
knot!”
“O...kay.” Alec debated prying. “But who is it going to give its knot to?”
“It’s gonna find another snake! We’re helping it sssslither around! Its mate has to be
somewhere.” Caleb grinned, doing his snake dance. It was awkward, when he was still
holding the hose. Izzy joined in.
York stopped next to Alec, sighing. “One of these days, Alec, we’re gonna bump into
each other at the headmaster’s office.”
Alec didn’t even question it. “Just a matter of when, right?”

When he looked up, he found Ben with a glass of reddish-orange milk, staring at the
snake-hose in horror. Their eyes met across the garage. I’ve got it, Alec mouthed. It’s
okay.
Ben smiled, fingering that rectangle in his pocket.
“C’mon, Tadpole.” York ruffled Caleb’s hair. “We need to put the hose away, or Harris
over there won’t let you play with it anymore.”
The kids looked horrified. Then they scrambled back to their corner, dragging the hose
along with them. Alec laughed. “Speaking of Tadpole.” York had explained once that
Caleb inherited that nickname because Perry was a FrogPrince, or something. “Does he
like that nickname?”
“Pft, not so much.”
“Why?”
“He wants to be a snake.”
Alec groaned, shaking his head. Caleb sounded like a handful to deal with. “A few
years back, I never thought you’d be a dad.”
“Hey, the same goes to you. Are you adopting Izzy?”
Alec nodded. It still scared him. The baby, too. And maybe that was why he hadn’t just
straight-up proposed to Ben yet. He would tonight, though. When the clock struck
twelve and the confetti fell.
After the trucks were decked, Alec headed into the locker rooms to grab his own Santa
outfit. There were a couple of alphas already in there. Jesse had his locker open. Dom
was heading for the door.
“So have you proposed yet?” Dom asked dryly.
Alec scowled. “Not you, too.”
He almost wanted to ask, Why aren’t you proposing to anyone, yourself? But that would be
a low shot. Dom was in his forties, he had a matching temper and scowl most days, he
had no omega, and the only person who seemed to enjoy interacting with him was
Jesse. And by ‘interacting’, it was really ‘pissing Dom off’.
Definitely not something Alec wanted to stick his nose into.
He made his way across the locker room, tapping Jes lightly on the shoulder. “Hey,
Jes.”
Jesse jumped a foot into the air, knocking Alec’s hand away. “What?”
Instead of his usual mild manner, Jesse panicked, his lips curling into a snarl, his arms
coming up to defend himself. That, on top of the silvery scars littering his skin, all the
way across his bald head⁠—no, this was not Alec’s fight.
“Whoa there.” Alec backed away, holding both hands up. “I got two kids and a
boyfriend. Nothing against you, Jes. Just saying hi.”
But Jesse didn’t calm down. He stared at Alec like a wild animal about to lash out, and
Alec realized that this... could actually go south. What did I do wrong?
Before Alec could accidentally mess up, Dom was there, edging between Alec and Jesse.
He reached past Jesse’s fists and grabbed his collar, shoving him hard against the
lockers. “Jesse.” Dom leaned in, grabbing Jesse’s wrist. “Look at me.”
Jesse’s chest heaved; he yanked at his captured wrist. His other fist connected with
Dom’s jaw. Dom grit his teeth and held his ground, leaning in so there wasn’t anywhere
else Jesse could look, but at him. “Look. At. Me.”
And now it wasn’t a fight between two coworkers, but two alphas wrestling for
dominance.
For a tense moment, Alec thought Jesse might punch their second-in-charge again. Jesse
seethed, his breaths coming hard and fast. He held Dom’s gaze.
Then he blinked, and ever so slowly, he began to deflate. He lost some of that panic. He
lowered his fists. He sucked in deep, calming breaths, and Dom released him.
“Okay?” Dom asked.
Jesse’s gaze dropped like he was looking at Dom’s mouth. Then he shoved Dom aside,
looking furious with himself. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” Dom said, heading for the door.
For a split second, Jesse looked over his shoulder, at Dom. And his expression⁠—it was
uncertain, it was regretful, it was... ashamed?
Then he blushed. And that was the first time Alec had seen Jesse interested in anyone.
Alec backed away, feeling like he shouldn’t have witnessed this at all. Except Jesse
locked gazes with him. And now everything was awkward.
Dom disappeared out of the locker room, leaving Jesse and Alec alone. Ever so slightly,
Jesse sagged. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak out on you.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” Alec stepped closer, unsure if he should hug Jesse. He didn’t want to
spook Jes again. “You okay?”
Jesse nodded, turning away. “Yeah. I just... I thought I was in a different place.”
Nate, their past-life-secret-agent medic, had brought Jesse out of somewhere dark. Alec
didn’t know most of the details, aside from Jesse having received numerous scars from
that place. Scars he didn’t ask for. Scars that, by the looks of them, had been very
deliberately inflicted.
“So... Dom?” Alec asked, half-expecting to be punched.
Jesse breathed out, closing his eyes. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“I’m here to listen, if you want,” Alec said. “Or... if you want to chat with someone who
also has a bunch of scars, there’s Ben. But don’t hit him, or I’ll hurt you.”
“I won’t.” Jesse looked contemplative. “Thanks.”
“Want a hug?” Alec held his arms out.
Carefully, Jesse put his arms around Alec, like he wasn’t sure how to hug a person.
That, combined with whatever thing he had going on with Dom... Alec felt sorry for
him.
What was it like to be so messed up, and at the same time, also having feelings for
another alpha? Someone who didn’t like you in return?
Alec didn’t know. But he hoped Jesse could figure things out, somehow.
L ATER , they took the station trucks out for a parade. Every Christmas eve, the
Meadowfall firefighters cleaned and polished their vehicles extra-bright, and dressed
them in golden fairy lights. Then they lined the trucks up into a caravan of red and
gold, and did a slow loop around town.
Alec remembered watching the rumbling engines roll by every year⁠—it had been a bit
of a tradition for their family, and also the reason why he’d skipped college and gone
straight into firefighting.
Instead of watching the parade, though, he was now driving one of the trucks. And Ben
and Izzy were in the audience, waving at him.
He turned Truck 4 back into the station, where the omegas and children were gathered
around the trucks that had returned. Alec climbed out of his truck, grinning when Izzy
raced up to him. “Santa!”
“Ho, ho, ho.” Alec swung Izzy into the air. “Have you been good this year, Izzy?”
Izzy squealed and nodded, even though the abandoned snake-hose lay just a few yards
behind him. Ben joined them, leaning in for a kiss. He tasted like hot chocolate, and,
faintly, ketchup. Alec couldn’t help kissing him again. It always made his heart soar,
kissing Ben.
Izzy frowned. “Daddy, you just kissed Santa.”
Ben grinned. “Uncle Alec is already Santa to you, isn’t he?”
Alec tugged off his beard and Santa hat, winking when Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “So
you’re secretly Santa?” Izzy gasped.
“What if I said yes?” Alec kissed Izzy on the cheek. Elsewhere, the firefighters were
getting ready to count down to midnight. Alec stuffed the bright red hat into his back
pocket, his heart skipping. It was time. So he set Izzy down on the ground, and
crouched before him. “Iz, we’ve had some pretty awesome times reading that dragon
book together. I love playing hide-and-seek with you. And I especially love making you
pizza toast. So if I were to do all of those as your papa, instead of as your Uncle Alec...
Would you like that?”
Alec held his breath, his heart skipping. Would Izzy say no?
But Izzy only smiled and hugged him. “Yes!”
That was such a relief to hear. And now Alec was officially a dad. He hugged his son,
his throat growing tight. Didn’t dream this would happen. “So you gonna call me Papa?”
Alec asked, his breath catching.
“Papa,” Izzy said, looking hopeful. “Are you going to make pizza toast for breakfast?”
Alec blinked hard, his chest too full. “Yeah. ‘Course I am.”
Ben set a hand on Alec’s shoulder, smiling softly. And Alec reached into his pocket, his
heart beginning to pound.
Izzy’s question had been easier, because Alec had learned to read him pretty well. But
Ben... He’d turned Alec down once.
Still on one knee, Alec swallowed, shuffling to face Ben. Ben’s eyes grew wide. And he
flailed, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Wait, wait.”
Why was he asking Alec to wait?
Ben yanked the rectangle from his pocket. It was white. As he picked at it with
trembling hands, it came apart, a piece of paper fluttering to the ground. Something
glinted. Alec’s Christmas present...?
Flustered, Ben fell to both knees, landing so hard he winced. Alec winced in sympathy,
reaching out for him. “Benny⁠—”
Ben caught Alec’s hand, saying in a rush, “I know you didn’t want me to, and I know
you have a speech prepared and everything. I just⁠—wanted to ask first, because you’re
everything to me, Alec. You’re generous and patient and you’re filled with so much
love, and I⁠—I wanted to be the one asking you, because you’re perfect.”
He held up a ring shakily, biting his lip, flushing so prettily that Alec’s speech fled his
mind. He stared at Ben. And stared. And he wanted to memorize this sight⁠—of his
omega looking eager and anxious and hopeful, as though Alec could ever tell him no.
Alec huffed, his heart swelling. He closed his hand around Ben’s, and pressed their
foreheads together. “I’ve loved you ever since we were kids, Benny-bunny. I love you
even more now. And I won’t ever stop. So yeah, if you’d like to marry me, and have all
the babies together, and if you want to have feet rubs and kisses and weird jokes
forever...”
“Will you marry me?” Ben asked.
Alec laughed. He took the warm ring from Ben’s fingers, and slipped his own into Ben’s
fist. Ben sucked in a breath, his chest heaving. “Oh,” he whispered.
“Is this a yes?” Alec murmured. “Do I have to say yes first, or do you? Or do we say yes
with our tongues in each other’s mouths and⁠—”
Ben grinned and slipped his hand against Alec’s nape, leaning in. And Alec pulled his
Benny-bunny close and kissed him hard, his heart soaring.
Ben had said yes, finally. Around them, golden confetti fluttered down, and the rest of
the station broke into applause.
⁠
B EN PACKAGED THE STRAWBERRY CROISSANT , tucked it into a paper bag, and handed it
over to the little old lady behind the counter. “Have a great day!”
“Give those butterflies some extra love,” she answered, waving before she tottered out
of the bakery. The butt-bells on the door jingled after her.
Business at Ben’s Buns had been picking up. Since that very first ad, Alec had set up a
website for Ben, and he’d also visited a couple of online forums, where he’d discovered
a small but growing fanbase for Ben’s Buns.
Contrary to what they’d initially thought, the ad hadn’t only brought protesters to the
bakery. It had also attracted the attention of a few eccentric groups around Meadowfall,
many of whom had become loyal customers since. And now that they had a better idea
about the people who shared Ben’s sense of humor, Alec had plans to invest small
amounts into the same ad⁠—shown to the right audience, they could grow Ben’s
business slowly but surely.
At the request of some customers, Ben had started a Butterfly Donation fund, where
customers could donate to the week’s costs of producing the Butterfly buns. That
helped to bring the costs down, too.
His assistant, Vic, set down the phone. “Looks like we’ve got an order in for a lunch
delivery tomorrow. It’s a start-up company. They’d like some really fancy butt-
sandwiches. With butt-flags and everything”
Ben laughed, his spirits lifting. “You’ll be in charge of that.”
“Yes, sir.” Vic saluted, marching back into the kitchen. There, he updated their schedule
so Mom would know what to prepare tomorrow.
Mom was working for Ben’s Buns now, as one of Ben’s assistants. After Alec had told
her about Ben’s troubles with the bakery’s staffing, Mom had offered to switch jobs.
This gave Ben a chance to take a couple days off a week, which he appreciated⁠—
especially now that his belly was growing ever more swollen.
At seven months, Ben’s feet hurt sometimes. Most nights, Alec brought him home and
rubbed his feet; he was really looking forward to that when they got home.
The bells on the door chimed. Alec stepped in with a grin. “I dropped Mom and Izzy off
at home,” he said, glancing around the bakery. “Can’t wait to have you to myself for a
bit.”
Further in the work area, Vic coughed loudly. Ben grinned. “No, we aren’t doing
anything here, Vic.”
“I’m glad,” Vic said, rolling his eyes.
Alec rounded the counter, pulling Ben into a warm hug. It always felt so good, stepping
into Alec’s arms. Not for the first time that day, Alec trailed his wrists over Ben’s skin,
marking him.
The door chimed, and Temmie stepped in. Ben froze. Alec looked up.
“Oh.” Temmie looked awkward, more so when she saw Ben’s round belly. “I, um. I
heard from Gran that you guys are getting married.”
“You’re invited, if you’d like to attend.” Alec wrapped his arm protectively around
Ben’s belly.
Temmie flushed. She twisted her fingers together, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry I
skipped out on you last winter. I just... It was rude of me. I’m sorry. Especially you,
Alec. I didn’t think... you’d be so happy together. But I’m happy that you are, you
know?”
Ben smiled, reaching out for her. “It’s fine. You’re forgiven, Tem. Actually, we have to
thank you for all the food you’d filled the cabin with. Without that, we really would’ve
starved.”
She looked relieved, stepping over to hug him. Alec hugged her, too. “You’ll have to
promise to help babysit.” Alec grinned. “To show how sorry you are.”
“Oh, fine.” Temmie smiled back.
Ben grabbed a bag of gingerbread men, handing it to her. “There. To show that we’re
really not mad at you.”
Temmie looked surprised. “I couldn’t accept it.”
“Take it, before Alec adds dicks to them,” Ben said dryly.
Alec snorted. “That’s precisely the reason you’re still selling those, Benny. Admit it. You
like it when I put dicks on those guys.”
“They’re really good with the gummy snakes,” Ben whispered, shoving the bag into
Temmie’s hands.
“Especially the long ones,” Alec added. Then he grabbed a bag of gummy snakes that
was on sale in the bakery, and handed it to Temmie.
Temmie stared at the snakes, her eyebrows rising. “So there was actually a ‘snake’ at the
cabin.”
Ben laughed. “Don’t tell Izzy.”
Temmie shook her head, tucking the gummy snakes into her pocket. “I’ll be sure to
share this with Theo,” she said. After a pause, she added, “I’m sure he’ll be happy to
hear about your bonding, you know.”
Ben thought back to seven months ago, when Theo had been the one getting married.
At that point, Ben had hoped that Theo’s alpha wouldn’t mistreat him. “How are Theo
and Sidney doing?”
Temmie smiled. “They’re happy.”
“That’s great.” Ben relaxed into Alec’s side, relieved. He was glad that there were more
alphas out there who were good, alphas who would treat their omegas with love.
“Send him our regards,” Alec said.
“Will do.” With a wave, Temmie left the bakery, stepping down the sidewalk with a
spring in her step.
“I’m glad she’s fine with this.” Ben leaned back into Alec, breathing in deep. “I was
worried there for a bit.”
Alec kissed his ear. “I figured she’d come around. She’s awesome.” He grinned,
rubbing Ben’s upper arms, where the scars were. Ben shivered.
The scars had always been a thing of shame for him. They told of his time with William,
the times he’d wished he was stronger. Alec slipped his hands under Ben’s sleeves,
caressing his arms.
To Alec, somehow, the scars hadn’t diminished Ben’s value as a person. Over the last
few months, Ben had thought about the scars, and he’d thought about his past. He’d
thought about the three weeks he’d spent in his mind, and the whole time, Alec had
cared for him with patience and love. The scars hadn’t mattered in that decision.
Slowly, Ben had tried to see himself with Alec’s eyes. He’d tried to think of himself as
important, and worthy. Some days, he succeeded. Ben cherished those days.
“Made a decision yet?” Alec asked.
“I think so.” Ben glanced at his arms. “I want butterflies, I think. Maybe next year.” He
pulled out a sheet of paper from under the counter, sketching out a rough design. “So
it’ll go around my arms like that.” Over the scars.
“It’s gorgeous.” Alec kissed Ben’s neck. “When you’ve decided, draw one for me, too.
We’ll go together to get them tattooed.”
That would be him wearing Ben’s marking, but in a more visible way. Ben’s heart
fluttered. “I will. I love you.”
Alec smiled, his gaze sparkling with delight.
The door chimed again, welcoming what was probably their last customer for the day.
Ben blinked when he saw Jesse entering the shop.
Jesse wasn’t what came to mind immediately, when Ben thought about firefighters. He
had so many different scars all over⁠—knife scars, puncture scars, burn scars. On a few
different spots on his arms, he had some body modifications; what looked like tiny
beads embedded beneath his skin.
Alec had said that Jesse had been hurt by someone else, too. And Ben wondered if even
the beads had been implanted without Jesse’s consent.
Jesse grabbed a tray, picking out a chocolate donut.
Next to Ben, Alec perked up. “You like those, huh?”
Jesse glanced over. “You’ve been hanging these on my locker?”
“No.” Alec frowned. “You think I would?”
Jesse looked contemplative. And Ben remembered the other firefighters who had
stepped into the bakery. York liked the butt-shaped pizzas, and Gareth always bought
the strawberry croissants. No. On Alec’s team, there was only one firefighter who
regularly bought the chocolate donuts. Dom.
Jesse brought his tray to the register, meeting Ben’s eyes. “If I told you that someone’s
been buying these, and leaving them for me... you’d know who, wouldn’t you? You’ve
met all of us.”
Ben bit his lip. “Yeah. But I’m not supposed to tell you. Customer confidentiality.”
At least, it wasn’t his story to tell.
Jesse sighed. “Right. Thanks.”
He paid for the donut, and Ben bagged it up. Before Jesse turned to leave, Ben stopped
him. “Jesse.”
Ben tugged up his own sleeve, revealing the mottled scars on his arm. Across the
counter, the remnants of Jesse’s eyebrows rose. He looked at Ben’s scars, and then down
at his own.
“I didn’t ask for these,” Ben said. “But they happened.”
Alec narrowed his eyes, dropping a kiss on Ben’s temple. “And you’re damn strong for
surviving that.”
Ben chose to believe him. If Alec could, then so could Ben.
Jesse looked from Ben, to Alec. There was a hint of wistfulness in his gaze. As though...
he wished he had someone important in his life, too. Someone who saw past his scars
for who he was.
You’ll find someone, Ben wanted to tell him. If I can find love with my stepbrother, you can
find love with anyone out there, too.
“You aren’t alone,” was what Ben said. “If you ever need to talk... I’ll listen.”
Jesse bowed his head, smiling back. “Thanks.”
With that, he left the bakery, donut in hand. It was only after the door had closed and
Jesse had disappeared from sight, that Alec asked, “So it’s Dom? Who’s been leaving
him donuts.”
Ben nodded. Alec swore, looking amused. “Should’ve asked that bastard why he hasn’t
proposed,” Alec muttered.
“Some things take time, you know.” Ben linked their fingers, smiling when Alec
exchanged a warm look with him. “Anyway, we should close shop. Wait for me while I
clean up?”
“I’ll help,” Alec said.
Ben tidied the display cases, while Alec and Vic cleaned the work area. Then, when
most of the things were done and Vic had gone home, Alec poked his head out of the
work area. “Psst, Benny.”
Ben frowned, looking over. “What?”
“I’ve got something to show you.” Alec wriggled his eyebrows. “Come here.”
“Let me set these down, first.” Ben stacked the clean trays together, before heading
over.
Past the door, he found Alec with his pants down. “I can’t believe I haven’t done this
yet,” Alec murmured. “Put my cock in your buns.”
He had pulled open a hot dog sandwich, removed the sausage, and stuck his cock
between the two halves of the soft, pillowy bread. Except there was no way the bread
could even close around him.
Ben snorted. “You’re too big for it, you know. It doesn’t fit right.”
“Oh?” Alec rolled his hips, rubbing his cock into the bread. “How do you think it’ll fit
better?”
“With some lube, maybe?” Ben grinned.
“I have just the thing.” Alec pulled out a half-full jar of golden liquid from somewhere.
“Is that... honey?”
Alec pushed his cock into the jar, until the honey level rose up around his cock, almost
spilling. Ben yelped. Alec pulled his cock back out. And now his cock glistened with a
layer of sticky sweetness, that trickled down the rest of his cock, and onto his balls. His
throat suddenly dry, Ben groaned. “Don’t drip it all over the floor!”
Alec laughed. “Here, I’ll catch the drip with your buns.” He pushed his cock back
against the bread, thrusting against it. The bread compressed around his cock, honey
smearing all over.
Ben imagined Alec’s cock doing that inside him. His body flushed with warmth; he bit
down his moan. “Alec, why⁠—”
“That got you hot, huh?” Alec growled. “Want some meat?”
“Not funny!” But Ben crowded Alec further into the work area, and sank to his knees.
That honey was sweet and thick and heavy on his tongue.
Later, Alec bent him over a counter, tugging his pants down. Ben trembled, his thighs
damp with slick, his hole squeezing, eager to accept his alpha. Alec pressed in close, his
slippery cock nudging between Ben’s cheeks. It sent a spike of hunger through Ben. Ben
gasped, pushing back against Alec, rubbing his hole against his alpha’s cock. With a
possessive growl, Alec slid his callused palms under Ben’s shirt, and over his round
belly. “Mine.”
The baby kicked. Ben gasped. Alec rumbled louder, closing his lips over Ben’s skin,
sucking on him. “You felt that?” Ben asked.
“Yeah.” There was a smile in Alec’s voice. “I love that you’re carrying my baby, Benny.
I love that you’re mine.”
Ben flushed, feeling pretty, with how Alec kissed up his neck and sucked on his ear.
“Yours,” he said. “Always.”
Alec answered with a growl, his tip pressing against Ben’s entrance, coaxing him to
open. Then he pushed in with a sweet rush of friction, fitting in all the way, joining their
bodies together. A sigh escaped Ben’s lips.
Alec trailed his wrists all over Ben’s belly, then up his chest, to his throat and his jaw
and his cheeks. “Love that you let me mark you all over,” Alec whispered. “Inside,
outside. Love that you smell like mine.”
Ben flushed with pleasure. With each thrust, Alec claimed Ben, sweet and slow, a
hungry, loving presence inside him.
The journey to get here hadn’t been an easy one. But they’d fought their demons and
won, their family now accepted them for who they were. Ben’s Buns had recovered, and
it was on its way to doing far greater than before.
More importantly, as Alec covered Ben’s hand with his own, their matching rings
gleaming, Ben realized that they had come full circle. They’d finally gotten to where
they were always meant to be, they were adding another precious life to their family.
With Alec by his side, Ben felt as though he could do anything, and succeed. And as
their lips met over his shoulder, Alec’s gaze warming him through, Ben knew he was
the luckiest person in the world.
⁠
“T HIS IS the part that scares me most,” Ben said, looking as beautiful as he always did.
“When the king orders the knight to be imprisoned for the rest of his life.”
“It’s not fair.” Izzy pouted. “All he did was hide his friend!”
“Well, when you’re hiding a dragon from your king, things don’t always go your way,”
Alec said dryly.
“Like how Caleb wants to secretly keep a pet snake?” Izzy whispered. Then he pinched
his mouth shut, glancing guiltily at Ben and Alec.
Alec cracked a smile. “He probably shouldn’t do that.”
“We won’t tell Caleb’s parents,” Ben said. “But if I were you, I’d do a lot of research on
caring for snakes. Caleb, too. They need special things to survive, like heat lamps and
food. Some of those things might be very expensive.”
Izzy’s face fell. “Oh. Even if I help?”
“Even if you help,” Ben added. “You’ll need plans for when things don’t go right.
Remember the time we only had a pan of gravy for dinner?”
Izzy nodded. “That was horrible.”
“You don’t want to starve a creature who’s depending on you.” Alec leaned in, kissing
Izzy’s temple. “Think about it for at least a few years, okay? And pass the message
along to Caleb.”
“Okay.” Izzy glanced back at the dragon book, lost in thought.
Alec reached behind his little shoulders, rubbing Ben’s neck. Ben looked tired; he’d
been pacing the last few hours, walking around a little, wincing every so often when a
contraction hit him.
At forty weeks pregnant, Ben’s belly was swollen, huge, and his feet hurt more often
than not. Alec had made him stay home from work today; they’d packed an overnight
bag for him, they’d prepped the nursery, and even Gran checked in on Ben every so
often.
Right now, though, they were enjoying their last moments alone with Izzy, reading his
favorite book. “Ready to get back to the story?” Ben asked.
Izzy cheered up. “Uh-huh.” He flipped the page and began reading. “Just as the knight
stepped into the dungeon, a huge roar came from outside the castle.”
Alec roared, deep and rumbling. Ben grinned, enjoying this profusely. “Where’s my best
friend?” Alec growled. “Where did you hide him?”
“Sparks,” Ben cried. “No, you must hide! They’ll capture you and kill you!”
“The knight fought off the guards and ran out of the dungeon.” Izzy wriggled as they reached
the climax. “He ran up the stairs and through the cobblestone hallways, and he ran into the
enormous palace courtyard, where the ladies and the royal family were having a great ball. High
up in the sky, Sparks the dragon circled in the air. Then he swooped toward everyone. The ladies
fled. The king drew his sword.”
Ben yelped. “Sparks!”
“The dragon landed with a thunderous thump,” Izzy read with great delight. “He looked at
the king. And he said⁠—”
Alec did his best impression of the dragon. “I’m just here for my best friend. You have
misjudged us, Sir King. If you release this knight, I will do whatever you wish.”
“But the king was furious,” Izzy continued. “He brandished his sword at the dragon.”
“How dare you interrupt my ball!” Alec read in his best king’s voice. “How dare you show
up after stealing all the cows?”
“But what else should I eat?” Alec asked in his dragon voice. “Should I die, because I want to
live just as much as you?”
“The knight ran up in front of his dragon friend, throwing his arms out.” Izzy threw his own
arms out for emphasis.
“Please, Your Majesty.” Ben’s voice wobbled. “I have no other family, but Sparks. We have
been raising some chickens for him. And he can fly across the kingdom in a day. He can deliver
mail faster than your fastest horse. He can move a cow in minutes. If you will be so kind, Sparks
here will be your personal mail-dragon.”
“How can you trust him?” Alec-the-king asked.
“Because he is my friend,” Ben answered in his most humble tone.
“Because I am sorry for stealing your livestock,” Alec said in his dragon’s voice.
“The king was silent for a long time,” Izzy read. “He was so silent that the knight grew
worried. Sparks the dragon put his arms around the knight, and he kissed his best friend on the
cheek.”
“Even though I am a dragon and you are a human, you are the very best friend I’ve ever
known,” Alec murmured in the dragon’s voice. “I love you from the very bottom of my
heart.”
“The king was touched by this speech,” Izzy read.
“I had a best friend once,” Alec’s kingly voice thickened with emotion. “He taught me many
things. He was a good friend. A kind friend. He taught me to forgive. And today, I shall forgive
you, dragon, for what you have done. You shall be my official letter-carrier. Sir knight, you are
forgiven, as well.”
“Everyone cheered,” Izzy read. “The ladies at the ball all wanted to say hello to the knight. But
the knight took the dragon’s paw, and they knelt before the king.”
“If I may be so bold,” Ben asked, “May Sparks and I live next to each other, Your Majesty?”
“Aww.” Izzy interrupted the story. “Wouldn’t it be better if they lived together, happily
ever after?”
“Sure would,” Alec agreed.
Ben laughed. “Maybe you should write your own stories, then!”
Izzy nodded enthusiastically. “Then they’ll sit down to dinner every night and eat pizza
toasts!”
“Yeah, that’s definitely a better ending,” Alec said. “Not that this ending is bad, either. I
mean, they get to be the royal mail delivery guys, but that dragon’s home must be real
toasty in winter.”
Ben laughed. Then he gasped and clutched his belly, and Alec forgot about making
jokes. “Ben!”
“I’m fine.” Ben gritted his teeth. “But I think my water just broke.”
Despite all the research he’d done, Alec panicked. He’s gonna give birth. He was a dad to
Izzy now, but he’d never been through his child’s birth before. “C’mon, we have to get
you to the hospital.”
“I’ll be fine for a while.” Ben glanced at the clock. This was his second birth⁠—it would
take a far shorter time than his first.
Between them, Izzy hugged his book to himself, looking at Ben’s belly like it might pop
any second.
“We’ll have to get going.” Alec gave Izzy a hug. “Brush your teeth and go to bed,
okay?”
“Can I come along?” Izzy asked.
They hadn’t planned for that. Ben bit his lip, faltering. “It’ll be a long wait, hon. Possibly
hours.”
“Daddy’s gonna be in a lot of pain,” Alec added. “Are you sure you want to follow?”
Izzy’s gaze went straight to Ben’s arms, and he nodded. “Yeah.”
Ben smiled crookedly, pulling Izzy into a hug. “Oh, Izzy.”
They put together a smaller overnight bag for Izzy, updated Mom and Gran, and then
the three of them headed for the hospital. Even at this hour, it was still busy there.
Izzy looked around at all the nurses and patients, his eyes wide. “Wow.”
“Some nights, it gets even busier than this,” Alec said dryly.
They had Ben admitted, and Ben changed into his hospital gown. Izzy squeezed with
him onto the hospital bed, wriggling his toes. “This is exciting, huh?” Alec asked. Izzy
nodded fervently. Ben laughed.
Alec paced next to Ben, his heart aching whenever Ben had a contraction. It looked
painful.
“Did it hurt when you were giving birth to me?” Izzy asked.
Ben smiled lopsidedly. “It did, but you were absolutely worth it.”
Izzy looked doubtful. So Alec went over and hugged him, too.
They ended up all squeezing onto the hospital bed, Alec and Ben and Izzy. Izzy sat on
Alec’s lap, pressing his palms against Ben’s belly. “Your belly gets really hard when
you get your... contraction,” he said. “Like a giant rock.”
Alec exchanged a look with Ben, both of them dreading what Izzy would say next.
“Is this what happens when Papa gives you his knot?” Izzy asked Ben. “The one that’s
like a rock? Your belly also becomes a rock, but with a baby inside.”
Ben groaned. Alec stifled his snort. “Kind of,” Ben said.
“So if I ever get a knot to give someone...” Izzy looked thoughtful.
Alec wasn’t sure how to answer that, either. Ben had said that Izzy would probably
present as omega when he got older, so he probably wouldn’t be the one with a knot.
“Don’t give your knot to anyone,” Ben said sternly, “That’s only for adults, hon.”
“What if Caleb gives me his knot?” Izzy asked.
Ben groaned. Alec narrowed his eyes. “If he’s gonna give you a knot, then he better be
ready to answer to me,” Alec growled. “And he better be ready for a baby.”
Ben laughed, leaning into Alec. “You’re such a fierce Papa.”
“I gotta be.” Alec huffed. “Gotta protect my children, you know.”
Ben grinned, linking their fingers together.
Izzy fell asleep as the hours dragged by. Ben got up and paced; Alec set Izzy on the bed,
hovering next to Ben just in case he wobbled.
“I’m fine,” Ben muttered.
“Yeah, but I’m not letting you do this alone.”
That put a smile on Ben’s lips.
Alec took Ben’s new phone⁠—the one he’d received for Christmas, along with more baby
clothes and some old photos from when he and Alec were kids⁠—and snapped selfies
with Ben and Izzy. Then, he set that as Ben’s home screen wallpaper. It would change
when the baby arrived, but for now... this was their family.
More hours later, Ben writhed on the bed, his contractions coming faster, his skin damp
with a sheen of sweat. “Fuck, Alec,” he growled. “The next time you put that thing in
me⁠—”
“You’ll shove a rock up my ass, I get it.” Alec winced.
“How about I shove three hundred rocks up your ass,” Ben hissed, his jaw clenched
tight. “And then your balls, too.”
Alec’s balls retreated into his body, his asshole clenching tight. “Breathe, Benny.”
“I’ll breathe when I damn well want to,” Ben snapped.

He was beautiful and fierce. Alec kissed his temple, deciding that the wisest course of
action would be to shut up, and kiss his omega. “You’re beautiful, Benny. The best
person in the entire world.”
That helped Ben calm down, and Alec could breathe again.
Next to him, Izzy whispered, “Daddy’s scary when he’s mad.”
Alec totally agreed. “This is why you don’t let an alpha give you his knot.”
Izzy looked thoughtful. “You mean, so I won’t get scary?”
“So you won’t hurt as much as your daddy’s hurting,” Alec said dryly.
Then Ben cried out, and Alec’s heart squeezed tight. He gathered Ben into his arms,
dropping kisses all over his face. “You can do this,” he murmured in Ben’s ear. “I
believe in you.”
Ben cried out and pushed, breathing when the midwife told him to. He panted and
clenched Alec’s hand so tight, that Alec’s knuckles felt as though they might fuse
together. Despite that, Alec wished he could be the one taking Ben’s pain. So his Benny
wouldn’t hurt so much.
“Push, Benny-bunny,” Alec whispered. “Push harder!”
“Alec,” Ben growled, shoving with all his might. As though he wanted to squeeze their
baby out, and then lunge after Alec. Alec braced himself and held his omega, and
breathed with him.
Then a bloody mess slid out between Ben’s legs. Their baby. Ben sagged back into the
bed, panting, just catching his breath. Alec’s heart swelled so much for him, it felt like it
might burst.
“I love you,” Alec murmured, dropping kisses all over Ben’s face. “You’re the best and
the most wonderful and I’m so proud of you.”
Ben chuckled softly, linking their fingers together. “So you say.”
“I definitely do.” Alec traced his wrist over Ben’s sweaty forehead and down his jaw,
marking his omega with his scent. “Mine.”
Ben smiled, tucking his face into the crook of Alec’s neck. “I’m sorry for snapping at
you.”
Alec kissed him. “It’s fine. Anything for my favorite omega.”

And a warm smile lit Ben’s face.
Their baby began to wail. Alec’s heart pounded; he helped lift Ben’s head so Ben could
see the midwife coming over. Gently, she deposited a tiny bundle onto Ben’s chest.
Ben’s eyes filled with tears.
“Hey, Thaddius,” Ben murmured, cradling their second child. He kissed Thad’s
forehead, and Thad quietened, as though he was listening out for his dad.
Alec stared at them both in wonder. Thaddius was so tiny⁠—how were humans ever this
small?
Next to Alec, Izzy’s eyes widened. “He’s squinty,” Izzy said. “But he’s so cute.”
“He’s beautiful, huh?” Alec lifted Izzy onto the bed, so he could see better. Then he
leaned in, dropping a kiss on Thad’s damp skin. “Hey, little one. Welcome to the family.
We’ve all been waiting for you.”
Thad turned toward his voice, as though he recognized Alec, too. And something
incredibly warm blossomed in Alec’s heart.
He was familiar with Izzy, but he hadn’t been sure he could handle such a tiny person.
Wasn’t sure how he wouldn’t accidentally mess up. But seeing his son, stroking Thad’s
tiny fingers, Alec knew he would do his best. He was grateful for all of them⁠—for Izzy
and Thad and Ben, all of them his family.
He trailed his wrist over Izzy’s shoulder, and down Thad’s back. Ben met Alec’s eyes,
his gaze warm.
“Ours,” Alec whispered, kissing Ben on the lips.
“Ours,” Ben answered with a smile.
Outside the window, the sunrise cast the sky in a rosy glow, beginning a new chapter of
their lives.
T HE FIRST THING Ben noticed when Alec got home, was the sheer excitement pouring off
his alpha in waves.
“Guess what, Benny?” Alec hurried over with his duffel bag, which wasn’t usually
bulging like it was.
Ben glanced askance at the bag. It wasn’t hissing or sticking tentacles out through the
zippers, so that was a start. “What?”
“I got us some equipment.” Alec hugged him, giving him a lingering kiss. “Gods, I’ve
missed you.”
“Mm. Same here.” Ben leaned into the kiss, filling his lungs with teak and smoke. After
Alec’s long twenty-four-hour shifts, it was always so nice to have his alpha back with
him. “What sort of equipment? I didn’t think we needed any.”
Alec glanced around surreptitiously, a smile growing on his lips. “Bedroom

equipment.”
Ben stared at the duffel. “Bedroom...? Why is there so much of it?” What could they
possibly need that would fill up a whole bag?
Alec grinned, dragging Ben up the stairs. In their bedroom, he shut the door, setting the
bag down. “We had some new equipment come in at the station,” Alec explained,
handing Ben a white coat from the duffel. “So I asked Nate if I could keep the old stuff.
They’re all sterilized, of course. Not sure why we even have a doctor’s coat, though.”
Ben unfolded the heavy coat. It was far wider than him, tailored to fit an alpha’s broad
shoulders. “So... you’ll be wearing this?”
Alec met his eyes, his gaze darkening. He pushed a stethoscope into Ben’s hand. “Yeah,
and I’ll be listening to your pulse, too.”
Ben tried to imagine the scene. He’d never thought of a doctor’s visit as anything
remotely sexy. Doctors usually poked and pried, and they had cold hands. But having
Alec wear that coat—having Alec wear it, with nothing else beneath...
Ben’s throat grew dry. “So, uh, you’ll be wearing this.” He shook the coat.
A slow smile spread across Alec’s lips. “Yes. Is there anything else you’d like me to
wear with that?”
“No.” Ben flushed. Alec’s smile turned wicked, the same smile that always melted Ben’s
insides.
“I love the way you think, Benny,” Alec growled, nudging a simple glass thermometer
against Ben’s fingers. “I’ll be examining every inch of you.”
Well, that—that, Ben could get behind. “Right now?”
Alec’s gaze raked down his body. “Is there a better time?”
Gods. Alec wants me. Ben gulped. “Hang on. Let me grab the baby monitor.”
He dashed downstairs, hoping he didn’t leave a trail of musk through the house. Mom
would probably sigh in exasperation. Mentally sending an apology to her, Ben grabbed
the monitor off the kitchen counter, where he’d been dicing some vegetables. Then he
dashed back up the stairs.
“That was quick.” Alec grinned, touching an ear thermometer lightly against Ben’s
cock, the impact going straight through Ben’s shorts. “Looks like you’ve got something
growing here. It’ll need an investigation, Benny. It looks critical.”
Ben bit down his moan, his cock growing bigger. After a whole day without his alpha,
he wanted Alec to mark him again. But this—it was also good, when Alec’s dark gaze
promised intimacy. “Are you sure? It looks... normal.”
Alec’s smile grew. “Did I hear that right? You don’t want this growing?”
And he rubbed the thermometer slowly down the length of Ben’s cock, nudging it from
left to right, grinding its blunt head against Ben’s tip. Every touch sent pleasure
thrumming through Ben’s veins. “It’s still growing, Benny. Get on the bed. You
definitely need some... medical attention.”
Ben groaned, climbing onto the bed, where he’d deposited the doctor’s coat and
stethoscope. “What do I have to do?”
“Remove your clothes,” Alec growled.
Eager to obey, Ben squirmed out of his shirt and shorts immediately. He left his briefs
on, though—at least it kept his growing erection down. So he didn’t seem quite so
desperate. “And then what?”
Alec left his duffel next to the bed, prowling over. “All your clothes, Benny. Including
your underwear.”
He was looking at Ben’s bulge. Heat throbbed between Ben’s thighs; he whimpered and
hooked his thumbs into his briefs, shoving it down his legs. His cock slipped out,
flushed and half-hard, his balls tightening when Alec plucked the cotton briefs from his
fingers and flung them aside.
And now Ben was entirely naked, musk rolling off his skin.
Alec growled, his nostrils flaring. “You smell so gorgeous.” He stood at the foot of the
bed, catching Ben’s ankle. Then he wrapped a sturdy cloth band around it, looped a
rope around the band, and pulled Ben’s ankle toward a corner of the bed, tying it down.
“Doctors don’t do that,” Ben yelped.
Alec grinned, catching his other ankle. “Well, in the clinics, they have stirrups.”
Ben had been through that before. But spreading his legs in front of a doctor wasn’t
anything like how Alec grasped his other ankle with strong, warm hands. Alec
wrapped a cloth band around this ankle, too, looped it with a rope, and pulled Ben’s
legs wide open, tying his other ankle to the opposite corner of the bed.
Ben tried to close his legs. The restraints kept them open, his new position giving Alec
an explicit view of his most intimate parts. Which all tingled when Alec stood back, his
hot gaze drifting down every inch of Ben’s body.
“Alec,” he moaned.
“That didn’t work. Looks like it’s getting bigger,” Alec growled, tapping lightly on
Ben’s cock. Pleasure hissed through Ben. “This is bad, Benny. We should see what’s
wrong with it.”
And he hooked his fingers into his station-issued shirt, peeling it off his abs and
glorious chest. Ben stared, mesmerized by the sculpted muscles of Alec’s front. The
inked butterflies on Alec’s biceps seemed to ripple with his movements.
Alec dropped the shirt, pulling on the doctor’s coat. It hugged his broad shoulders, and
the sleeves—they looked too tight on his biceps. “Might accidentally rip these,” Alec
muttered, flexing his arms. The seams strained.
Speech had fled Ben’s tongue. All he knew was to watch his alpha, because somehow,
Alec was sexy even just putting on his stethoscopes. From the duffel bag, he pulled out
a clipboard and fabric measuring tape. Then he leaned over Ben, all strong and sturdy,
and pressed the tape’s cool metal tip against Ben’s cock.
Ben hissed, his cock jerking. Alec grasped it with his callused fingers, holding it down—
warm points of contact on Ben’s skin. He smoothed the tape along Ben’s underside,
base to tip, and jotted down a measurement. “This looks bigger than usual,” Alec
murmured, like he hadn’t seen Ben’s cock a million times before. “What do you think
could be the cause?”
“I don’t know,” Ben mumbled.
Alec flashed a quick smile. “You don’t, huh?”
Ben shook his head, just pretending. And Alec’s smile grew.
The tape tickled Ben’s cock when Alec released it; he looped it around Ben’s base next,
taking another measurement. Then, Ben’s tip. Then he slipped the tape’s smooth metal
end under Ben’s foreskin, easing more and more tape around Ben’s tip, until it had
completely circled Ben’s sensitive head. It felt like a strange, foreign thing under Ben’s
skin, making him extremely aware of himself. Where Alec indirectly touched him.
“Looks like it’s drenched here,” Alec rumbled. He took a measurement, before securing
his fingertips on the outside of Ben’s foreskin. Then he rubbed Ben’s skin against the
tape, and the tape ground against Ben’s tip. Ben hissed, a jolt of pleasure shooting up
his spine.
“Alec,” he yelped.
Alec smiled. “It looks like you’ve stopped growing.”
Only because Ben was hard, so hard that his cock ached. “It hurts,” Ben mumbled.
Alec raised his eyebrows. “Where? Here?” He touched Ben’s tip, where the measuring
tape was.
Ben shook his head. “All of it.”
Alec bit down his smile. “Ah.”
All he did was release Ben’s cock. It shoved straight up, pointing at Alec like it was
begging for touch. Alec ignored it. He took the end of the stethoscope, leaned in, and
pressed it against Ben’s chest. The cool, circular surface slid over Ben’s ribs, then his
nipples. Ben writhed, his nipples growing hard.
“Your heartbeat’s fast,” Alec growled, moving the stethoscope’s chest-piece over Ben’s
chest. Ben didn’t even know what Alec was hearing. He felt completely vulnerable,
spread out beneath his alpha, every part of his body exposed.
“I should listen to the rest of you,” Alec continued, dragging the chest-piece further
down, to Ben’s belly, then the thatch of hair between his legs. Then he pressed it against
Ben’s cock, and listened.
Ben groaned. His cock probably betrayed him—it was leaking shamelessly all over his
belly, the tape still tucked around his tip. “C-can you hear anything?”
Alec pushed the listening piece more firmly against his cock, a pressure that made Ben
throb. “Yeah, I think I hear something,” he growled. He moved the listening piece up
and down Ben’s length, whispers of tantalizing pleasure that pulled his balls tight. It
always made Ben squirm whenever Alec examined his cock so closely—Alec knew
every way to pleasure him. Ben just didn’t know which method Alec would use this
time.
The chest-piece smeared Ben’s precome down his cock, all the way to his sac. There,
Alec listened again—first its front, then its underside. He probably couldn’t hear much,
but it made Ben feel exposed there, too, as though Alec could hear every thump of his
heart, every little twist of desire that made his cock feel so heavy.
At Ben’s hole, Alec paused. “Looks like we should do a comparison,” he murmured.
He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, took the glass thermometer from its plastic case,
and squirted some lube onto its bulb end.
“I don’t... need lube,” Ben mumbled. His hole was drenched by now.
Alec smiled, dark and hungry. “Oh, yeah. You do.”
He smeared the lube halfway up the thermometer and grasped Ben’s cock, squeezing its
tip. Then the thermometer kissed Ben there, right against his slit. Ben froze, realizing
what Alec was about to do. “Is that—possible?”
A low growl rumbled through Alec’s chest. “If I do it gently, yeah.”
He massaged Ben’s tip and squeezed it, so the measuring tape ground against his
sensitive head. Ben writhed, his cock pulsing. And Alec stroked his slit lightly with the
silky-smooth bulb, squeezing it again so Ben’s slit opened—a tight, dark hole, just wide
enough to fit that thermometer inside.
Ben gulped. He’d never done this before.

Alec met his eyes. “Okay?”
Ben nodded, a little nervous. And Alec dipped the bulb into Ben’s slit, a cool touch. It
didn’t hurt. Alec pulled it out, and dipped it back inside, meeting Ben’s eyes again.
“More,” Ben said, curious now.
The thermometer pushed into him, cold and solid. It was a strange feeling, having it
inside his cock. Then it went deeper, stretching him intimately. Unexpected pleasure
hummed down his nerves. Ben gasped, his cock jerking, his hole squeezing. It’s inside
me.
“How’s that feel?” Alec rasped, pulling the thermometer back out a little ways, and
pushing it back in. Like he was fucking Ben’s cock with it.
Ben groaned, his cock flushing a darker red. Alec growled and squeezed Ben’s balls. He
pulled the thermometer out completely, then eased it back into Ben, halfway inside.
“Feel good?”
When he withdrew it, the thermometer glistened. Ben felt debauched, shameless.
“Yes,” he panted.
Alec gave a sharp smile, and pushed the thermometer back into him. Ben groaned, his
hole leaking, his cock feeling ever so full.
Then Alec left the thermometer, picking up the other one—the one for ears. “While we
wait for a reading,” he rumbled, fitting a disposable cap over the ear thermometer’s
tapered end. Then he grasped Ben’s asscheek, pulling it aside to expose his hole.
Ben gasped, his hole squeezing. Alec groaned. “You’re drenched, Benny,” he rasped,
leaning in, sniffing at Ben’s slick. “So fucking hot.”
But all he did was nudge the cool plastic tip of the thermometer against Ben’s entrance.
Then it found the spot with the least resistance, and pushed in.
It was a cool, narrow touch, hard like the glass thermometer, but it didn’t go deep. The
thermometer beeped.
“Hot inside,” Alec growled, scribbling on the clipboard. Then he withdrew the
thermometer, set it aside, and grasped Ben’s cheeks with both his hands.
Alec spread Ben, exposing Ben’s hole to his scrutiny. For a moment, he stared at Ben’s
entrance, licking his lips, his chest heaving. “Fuck.” Alec palmed his bulge, his coat
sleeve straining around his bicep. There was a wet spot at his tip.
Ben moaned, trying to close his legs except he couldn’t. And Alec rubbed his gloved
thumb over Ben’s cock, so pleasure throbbed through his veins. Ben whimpered. Alec
blew lightly on his hole, a puff of cool air.
“I wonder if this has anything to do with how big you’ve gotten.” Alec tapped Ben right
on his hole. Ben moaned and relaxed for him, and Alec sank a fingertip in. “Damn,
Benny. Fuck.”
He pushed his finger all the way inside, the deepest he’d been so far today. Ben
moaned. Alec crooked his finger, grinding it against Ben’s prostate. Pleasure throbbed
through Ben; he choked on his moan. And Alec swore, reaching for a syringe. “Need to
examine you inside, Benny.”
Alec’s cock was shoving so hard against his pants, it looked like it might rip right
through. Ben grew slicker. “Just fuck me already,” he pleaded.
Alec’s smile grew. “One last thing.”
He unwrapped a fat syringe, one of those with no needle, only a plastic nozzle to
dispense fluid. Alec plucked its plunger out, unscrewed a tube of lube, and emptied
half the tube into the syringe. Then he fitted the plunger back, and the syringe’s plastic
nozzle grazed Ben’s hole.
“I don’t need that much lube,” Ben whimpered. He was wet enough for Alec’s entire
cock.
Alec’s gaze darkened. He pushed the hard nozzle into Ben’s hole, and cool liquid filled
Ben inside. Ben moaned.
“Fuck, Benny,” Alec panted. He reached into the duffel, pulling out a crinkling bag with
an L-shaped thing. A speculum.
Ben squirmed. Alec would put that inside him. “You—You need that?”
“All the better to see you with,” Alec growled. He ripped the bag open, squirting lube
onto the blunt end of the speculum. Then he pumped his fist around it, like he would
his cock. Ben writhed, his hole squeezing. He’d had doctors insert that into him before.
But Alec? It would be different, wouldn’t it? Alec rubbed the smooth plastic against
Ben’s entrance. “Pretend I’m your doctor, Benny. I’m gonna put this into you right
now.”
Ben tried to imagine some doctor holding his legs open, rubbing a cool, hard object
against his hole. Then Alec pushed, and Ben’s hole yielded to the speculum.
It sank into him, stretching him open. Ben’s cock throbbed. “Alec.” His voice broke.
“Yeah, Benny. I wanna hear you.” Alec pulled the speculum out slightly, and pushed it
back in. Then out, and in again.
“Alec.” Ben groaned. “You’re not s-supposed to fuck me with that.”
Alec smiled, his gaze ravenous. Then there was a loud click, and the thing inside Ben
opened, stretching him further. Ben’s cock jerked; precome leaked out around the
thermometer plugging up his slit. Alec reached over, pulling out the thermometer in a
rush of sweet friction. Ben’s spine arched. Precome dripped from the thermometer. And
Alec pulled the tape out from under Ben’s foreskin—more friction. Ben writhed, his
cock aching, his body stretched around the speculum. “A-Alec.”
“Yeah?” Alec tugged on the speculum, halfway withdrawing it, before pushing it back.
It was a hard, unyielding presence inside him. Ben moaned, scrabbling at the sheets.
There was another loud click; Alec opened the speculum wider. Until it stretched Ben as
much as Alec’s cock did, maybe even more. Ben panted, flushing when Alec shone a
flashlight into the speculum.
“Fuck, Benny. Your slick’s flowing out.” Alec swore, shoving at his cock.
There was yet another click. The device opened Ben, almost as wide as Alec’s knot did.
Ben sobbed, his cock hurting with how much it needed. “Alec, p-please.”
Except Alec rotated the speculum, enough that he could push his fingers against Ben’s
prostate. Then he massaged it, sinking the speculum deeper. It stretched Ben so much
that pleasure pulsed between his legs, his entire body strung tight. Precome squirted
out of Ben’s cock. And Alec leaned in, closing his hot mouth around Ben’s tip, at the
same time he planted his palm right over Ben’s lips.
Pleasure crashed through Ben, ripping a scream from his throat. He couldn’t breathe.
His spine arched. Jets and jets of come shot out of his cock, filling Alec’s mouth. And
Alec massaged his prostate, until the intense pulsing in Ben’s cock slowed and he could
catch his breath.
Ben struggled to grasp his bearings. Vaguely, he was aware of Alec closing the
speculum, flinging it aside on the bed. Alec unstrapped the bands around Ben’s ankles.
Then he dragged Ben across the bed, closer to himself.
“It’s not fair,” Ben panted. “You’re not naked.”
“My pecs aren’t enough?” Alec smiled, his pupils dilated with hunger. And he reached
down, unbuckling his belt. That thumped onto the floor. Alec’s pants and boxers went
next, his cock shoving up, precome glistening at his tip. Ben moaned, his ass aching
with how much slick it made for his alpha.
Alec ripped his gloves off and pushed two fingers into Ben’s hole, stretching him open.
“Fuck, you’re drenched for me, Benny. You just leaked a whole river of slick. And
you’re wet again.”
Ben pulled his legs open wider. “I need you inside,” he begged, his ass too empty.
A low growl rumbled in Alec’s chest. He curled his fingers inside Ben, pulling them
out. Slick trickled down Ben’s ass; Alec smeared that all over his own cock. “See this?”
Alec growled, pumping his cock. “All for you, Benny.”
It would open him like nothing else did. Ben whimpered, reaching down to spread his
ass, showing his alpha his hole. Alec swore; he was upon Ben in the next second,
dragging their lips together in a hard kiss, his cock grinding thick against Ben’s hole.
“Inside,” Ben gasped against Alec’s mouth.
Alec’s tongue swept past Ben’s lips, at the same time his blunt head found Ben’s
entrance. He pushed once, hard. Ben’s body yielded for him, taking his tip. And Alec
snarled, thrusting all the way in. His cock surged inside Ben and lit all his nerves; Ben
cried out, his voice breaking, his body singing as he took his alpha’s cock.
“So tight for me,” Alec growled, snapping his hips. Jolts of pleasure shot down Ben’s
nerves.
“More.” Ben savored the intimacy of his alpha inside him, Alec’s cock a hungry,
demanding presence that shoved against his prostate and made him arch.
Alec’s smile was sharp. “This isn’t enough?”
Ben shook his head. “More.”
“Fuck.” Alec caught the underside of Ben’s knees, shoving his legs apart. Then he began
a hard rhythm, one that had his cock plunging in and out, stretching Ben thoroughly, in
a way the speculum never could. “Enough?”
Even though he was wheezing hard, Ben shook his head.
And Alec’s smile widened. “You’re perfect, Benny.”
His rhythm turned savage; he anchored Ben down and pounded hard into him, every
thrust a sweet rush of friction. Alec fucked in so hard that Ben slid across the mattress;
he yanked Ben back and plowed in again. His precome marked Ben inside; his balls
kissed Ben’s ass, promising a thick load of come that would claim him as Alec’s.
Ben panted, his body filled with so much need that he couldn’t breathe. “Harder. Claim
me. Make me scream.”
“Fuck, I love you.” Alec growled and kissed Ben hard, and his next thrusts scorched
pleasure into Ben’s body, over and over, until Ben thrashed and his body throbbed with
bliss, and he was almost at the edge, he just needed more—
Alec cradled Ben and fucked in, sliding into Ben’s mouth, their tongues tangling. Then
he leaned down and bit hard on Ben’s shoulder, his cock slamming in all the way. Ben
tumbled off the edge, pleasure crashing so hard into him that his toes curled and his
eyes rolled back in his head, and he clenched around Alec, bliss throbbing in every cell
of his body.
Alec groaned and covered Ben with himself, thrusting into Ben through his release, his
cock swelling, his strokes turning feverish as he dropped kisses all over Ben’s face.
“Close,” Alec growled, his ragged breaths puffing onto Ben’s ear.
“Mark me,” Ben begged. “Inside.”
With a roar, Alec came, burying himself deep as his cock pulsed, his come hot inside
Ben, claiming Ben as his own. The seams of his sleeves split with loud ripping sounds,
revealing his taut biceps, bulging and strong on either side of Ben.
As they came down from their release, Alec pressed kisses all over Ben’s face, his knot
swelling, a heavy, thick weight that locked them together. Ben moaned, dragging his
wrists all over Alec—so Alec would smell like daisy, too. “Those are some muscles you
have there.”
Alec smiled and flexed his cock, so it jerked inside Ben’s ass. “My love muscle?”
“That’s a terrible name.” Ben smacked him, laughing. “Besides, it isn’t a muscle.”
“The way you look at it, it may as well be a muscle.” Alec winked.
Ben flushed. Did he really seem that desperate? “Do I?”
“Yeah, you stare at it like you haven’t had a drink in a hundred years.” Alec kissed him
again. “So... a creamy muscle?”
Ben groaned. “It’s so not a muscle!”

“What do you suggest I call it, then?” Alec rolled his hips, pushing his growing knot
deeper into Ben. They both moaned.
“It’s your cock.” Ben wriggled. “I think that’s a good enough name.”
“The juicy chicken?” Alec suggested.
“Damn it, Alec.” Ben bit down his laughter. Alec flipped them over, so Ben lay
sprawled on the naked expense of his chest. “I’ll have to fix your sleeves. Maybe make
them a bit looser.”
“Really?” Alec wriggled his eyebrows. “You don’t want to see them rip again?”
Well, Ben wouldn’t say no to that.
Alec laughed. “When they ripped, the look on your face—you just stared at them like I
was some hulk of a movie character.”
“You’re perfect enough to be one.” Ben grinned, snuggling into him.
Alec kissed his forehead, smiling. “Damn, I missed you while I was on duty.” He traced
his wrists all over Ben’s face, then his body. “All the times between calls, I’m always
tempted to message you.”
Ben laughed. “Won’t you get into trouble if you do that?”
“Probably. Dom will kick my ass.” Alec grinned, boyish and handsome, and Ben’s heart
swelled for him. “But it’s not like you aren’t busy at Ben’s Buns.”
He was right. Business had definitely picked up over the last year or so, enough that
Ben didn’t have to worry about his bakery so much anymore. Right now, he was just
waiting to do a diaper change, before he secured Thad into a body harness and brought
him along to the bakery. Alec would join them later, after he’d rested for a bit.
As though Thad felt Ben’s thoughts about him, he began to wail over the baby monitor.
Ben sighed, wriggling on Alec. “I guess we haven’t thought this through so well.”
Alec grinned. “Just spin yourself around on my knot. We’ll waddle over.”
That was always so awkward. Ben laughed, doing just that. Alec’s knot tugged inside
him, and they both groaned. Then it tugged again when they were shuffling off the bed.
Thad wailed louder.
“We’re coming.” Ben sighed.
“We already came,” Alec corrected him.

Ben snorted, looking for a towel they could wrap themselves in.
Later, when they’d gotten Thad’s diapers changed, Alec peeked over Ben’s shoulder.
“He looks like you,” Alec said.
“Nah, I think he looks like you.”
Thad babbled at them, reaching up with his tiny hands. Ben’s heart melted. He scooped
Thad into his arms, smiling when Alec leaned over his shoulder to kiss their son’s
forehead.
“I love you,” Ben said.
“Are you saying that to me, or Thad?”
“Both of you! But I wanted to answer you. From before.” Ben flushed.
Alec grinned. “You’re only replying to me now?”
“Yes?” Ben wriggled against him, leaning into Alec’s strong chest. “I didn’t have the
breath to answer you then.”
And now Alec looked smug.
It was when they were shuffling toward the nursery door, Alec’s knot still buried inside
Ben, that the door swung open. They both froze.
“Daddy,” Izzy said, and paused.
He blinked. He stared at Thad, then at the beach towel wrapped around Ben and Alec’s
hips.
“Oh, no,” Ben said under his breath, his cheeks prickling with heat.
“Are you giving Daddy your knot again, Papa?” Izzy asked Alec.
It wasn’t like they had any way out of this, so Alec said, “Yeah, I am. I wanted to show
Daddy that I love him very much.”
Izzy frowned. “But you can’t show him with other ways?”
“What other ways?” Ben asked, curious.
“Like with a snake? Caleb says alphas give snakes to their omegas when they love each
other very much.”
Ben froze. Alec coughed lightly, his cock jerking inside Ben.
“One of these days, I’ll convince Daddy to accept a snake,” Alec said. “They need a lot
of care, remember?”
“Yours sure does,” Ben said in an undertone. Alec grinned and wrapped his arms
around both Thad and Ben.
“Come over here,” Alec said, waving Izzy closer. “Group hug.”
“How?” Ben hissed. He squeezed around Alec’s knot to prove his point; they weren’t
exactly mobile right now.
Alec grunted. “Think we can both bend over.”
Izzy brightened, skipping over for his hug. Ben had the advantage of being in front; he
wrapped his free arm around Izzy, Thad reaching out to grasp Izzy’s hair.
“Thad, no,” Ben said, trying to free those strands before Izzy yelped.
Alec leaned toward Ben’s other side, tugging Izzy away from Thad in an awkward
group hug. “There, we managed it.”
Ben grinned exasperatedly. Alec had the strangest ideas, but Ben wouldn’t have him
any other way.
Izzy hugged Thad, too. “Now can I have some pizza toast?”
“Sure,” Alec said. “Wait downstairs in the kitchen. I’ll make some for you.”
Izzy wriggled and left. Ben sighed, looking pointedly at Alec. “You did that so you’d
have an excuse to pull out, huh?”
Alec grinned. “Yeah. I love watching your face when I do.”
Because Ben would moan and squirm, and sometimes, Alec would make him come
again.
“You’re... unbelievable,” Ben said, his lips pulling into a smile.
“And I’m yours.” Alec laced their fingers so their rings glinted together—white gold
bands, with butterflies carved into their outer sides, matching the inked butterflies on
their arms.
“Yours,” Ben answered, his heart full.
Alec rumbled in delight, tracing his wrists over Ben’s skin.

All of this was a promise—the rings, the tattoos, and their beautiful children. And Ben
was ever so grateful that they’d found their happy ending. He wouldn’t change it for
the world.
Alpha-preg. Enemies-to-lovers. Boss/Subordinate. May/Dec.
Jesse Sinclair has secrets. A mountain of them. At twenty, newly-rescued from a human
trafficking ring, he's eager for a new beginning. That means not looking at his case files,
and not knowing what his captors have done to him. It's all in the past. It doesn't matter
anymore.
Except it does, when his PTSD gets him off on the wrong foot with his fire station
deputy, Dom. Dom is alpha-as-hell, twice his age, and it's clear he doesn't want Jesse on
the team. Jesse joins the station family anyway, and everyone welcomes him with open
arms. That is, everyone but Dom, who challenges him to drinking matches.
Dom, who subdues him during his panic attacks.
Dom, who kisses him and pretends it didn't happen.
But the biggest secret is the one even Jesse doesn't know--back in the Facility, his body
was altered. Something Jesse should've discovered before following Dom home one
night.
The simmering heat between them explodes. Jesse ends up conceiving a child. He's not
prepared for this at all.
Alpha in Heat is a 84k-word standalone slow-burn non-shifter MPreg romance, with two very
aggressive alphas, secret donut gifts, an accidental pregnancy, and a station family who loves
them both despite their quirks.
“#301 IS TOO YOUNG FOR THIS ,” Rutherford said, unease twisting through his gut.
“He’s only sixteen.”
“I beg your pardon. Sixteen is the perfect age for this.” On the other side of the operating
table, Dr. Larson pinned Rutherford with a cold stare over steel-rimmed glasses. “You
were brought on to this project as my assistant. You will not question my decisions.”
Rutherford bit his tongue. Subject #301 was one of many in this underground facility—
mere children caught in an invisible web he’d been sent to investigate.
Six months. He had to stay low for that long. Then, when he’d amassed enough
evidence, he would reach out to the outside world. And HQ would send agents in to
extricate all of these poor souls.
“Hand me the scalpel,” Larson said.
Rutherford swallowed the bile in his throat. He tried not to look at the glistening lump
of tissue set on ice, that was headed into #301’s body.
It was a uterus, complete with nerves and blood vessels, grown from pluripotent stem
cells they’d cultivated from #301 himself. Rutherford knew the exact techniques—he
was the one who had come up with a method to silence the Y chromosomes in alpha
DNA, in order to grow omega parts from an alpha’s stem cells. The objective being to
allow an alpha the option to breastfeed his children.
He hadn’t imagined that it would be used for this. To modify an unconscious teenager,
who had been imprisoned in this facility for gods-knew-how-long.
There was no sign of a name anywhere on #301’s clipboard—only the identifying

number assigned to every test subject. The same number was outlined in silvery skin on
two parts of #301’s body: his hip, as well as his shoulder. The organization hadn’t taken
time to tattoo the children—they’d been branded with hot iron, and the burns had been
left to heal into scars.
Rutherford had heard that, when the scars eventually faded, the subjects were taken to
the forge to be branded again.
“You plan for the uterus to be functional,” he said.

Larson looked at him like he thought Rutherford had lost all his brain cells. “If this
succeeds, we will have a way to impregnate alphas. Imagine how much he’ll sell for on
the market.”
That was something Rutherford didn’t want to imagine. He looked at the numerous
scars on #301’s shoulders, and the beads they’d embedded into the boy’s arms a week
ago to see how well he’d react to the slow-release hormones.
#301 had been extremely unstable this past week. He’d been startling whenever anyone
unlocked his cell, and lashing out at the scientists who attempted to make contact.
When this surgery was over, he’d be shot up with tranqs so he could heal. And, to
prevent him from ripping apart the stitches holding his abdomen together, he would
never discover that he’d acquired new organs after today.
Larson took the scalpel that Rutherford held out, making the first cut into #301. The boy
jerked; there hadn’t been enough anesthetic to completely pull him under.
Short of blowing his cover, Rutherford couldn’t show any more sympathy toward the
young alpha on the operating table. An alpha that, had he been luckier somehow,
would’ve been playing ball on a field with the rest of his schoolmates. It was a pity, too,
because despite the scars littering his body, #301 was a fine specimen—good looks, and
muscles that were developing well on those broad shoulders. Exactly what the black
market thirsted for.
“Shall I increase his dosage to keep him still?” was what Rutherford managed to
suggest.
Larson gave a brusque nod, making a deeper cut.
Six months couldn’t go by quickly enough. And that agent who would show up at some
point, Nate—Rutherford hoped he would get them all out alive.
(P RESENT TIME )
Jesse Sinclair straightened his tie. Breathe, he told himself.
He’d practiced with his therapist, Toni, close to a hundred times. He knew he’d ace this
interview. At least, he’d better. There wasn’t another vacancy at any of the fire stations
nearby. And he really, really wanted this job.
The problem? His lower-than-average psych scores. His scores were so low, in fact, it
was a miracle they had called him up for an interview. Maybe they’ll look past that, Toni
had said.
Yeah, well. There was still time for them to drop his resume in the discard pile.
He splashed his face with cool water, looking back in the bathroom mirror.
Droplets of water had darkened his starched shirt—some smaller spots, some larger.
None that had soaked the fabric at his shoulder, though. That was most important. No
one needed to see the silvery numbers on his skin.
301 was part of his past. He wasn’t that prisoner anymore.
He straightened his tie, assuming that the interview panel wouldn’t notice his wet shirt.
No one ever did. People he met usually ogled his scars, until they grew uncomfortable
and looked away. Who wouldn’t, though? No one else had scars covering their entire
body. Jesse had a slew of uneven silver lines and red marks, from his fingertips to the
back of his skull, from his shoulders down to his toes. They were scars from bullet
wounds, incisions, whip lashes—who knew what else?
Then there was the biggest scar down his abdomen—ugly and silver, and it pulled
whenever he did his crunches. Jesse wasn’t sure what Larson had done there, but he
didn’t want to know. This was a new beginning. This was his new life.
He took a deep breath to calm his pattering heart, double-checked the landing outside
his apartment, and stepped out, all the while listening for surreptitious footsteps, for
whispered orders and men hidden behind corners. His heart pounded, and his senses
strained.
Some days, it was a challenge just making it out of the building.

When he reached the parking lot, he made for the motorbikes—where no one could
hide behind cars and grab him from behind. Then he pulled on his helmet, started the
engine, and headed for the station.
The Meadowfall fire department was smaller than the training facility in Highton. It
had three large doors leading into the garage, what looked to be an office upstairs, and
more red trucks in the back.
Jesse pulled in behind the station, where it said Employee Parking Only. Then he parked
his bike, stepped into the garage, and looked around for a firefighter.
One of the alphas in the station glanced up—an older man with an applewood scent.
“Here for an interview?”
Jesse nodded, holding out his hand. “Jesse Sinclair. I was told to look for either Harris
or Dom.”
The alpha shook his hand. “Gareth. And yeah, Harris is the A-Team captain; Dom’s the
deputy. Wait here. I’ll get them.”
Jesse tucked his hands into his pockets, looking around the station. He saw Nate
working on something on the far side of the garage. Some of his nerves calmed. Nate
was the one who had brought him out of the Facility. Jesse had heard about Nate
retiring as an agent to become a firefighter, and it was part of the reason why he’d
applied for a job at this station—so he would have a friend here.
Gareth returned a minute later, with two older alphas Jesse assumed to be Harris and
Dom.
“Harris,” the taller alpha said, flashing a quick smile. “Great to meet you.”
The team captain seemed friendly. More so than most people who met Jesse for the first
time. There was a strange mix of two different alpha scents on him, along with a floral
scent. Cautiously, Jesse shook his hand.
The other alpha didn’t offer a handshake, which set Jesse on edge. That wasn’t what
he’d expected.
Dom—Jesse assumed—had gray streaking through his blond hair, and shrewd copper
eyes. Eyes that raked over the scars on Jesse’s shaved head, down his face, to his neck
and collarbones. As though he was already judging Jesse for them. Jesse couldn’t help
bristling. I’m not who you think I am.
Except Dom’s gaze was sharp, heavy, like it missed nothing at all. Like it could see into
Jesse and pin down his secrets.
Somehow, for reasons he couldn’t explain, something in Jesse’s body jerked under his
attention.
What the hell? He’s an alpha. Sure, Jesse had gotten hard for omegas. But this... it wasn’t
arousal. Couldn’t be. Maybe it was his instincts recognizing the strength in Dom’s solid
shoulders. Maybe Jesse’s instincts were preparing him for a fight. By drawing his
attention to the way Dom’s pecs stretched his shirt, the way Dom’s body tapered down
to his hips, and the thick thighs behind his pants.
So why was a tiny part of his body telling him that no alpha should be this ridiculously
handsome? Strong jaw, full lips, biceps that opened up his T-shirt sleeves.
Maybe Jesse was envious. Yeah, that had to be it. Imagine getting to be forty, with a
stable job in a place you were respected. No one cracking a whip over your bare body,
no one pushing scalpels into your skin. That had to be nice, huh?
Awkwardly, he held his hand out to Dom. “Jesse Sinclair.”
Dom met his eyes. Then he turned abruptly, striding up the stairs. “Meeting rooms are
in the office.”
Wow, that was rude.
He was so not hot at all.
Harris smiled apologetically. “We’re having a bit of a busy day, if you don’t mind
hurrying a little. We could get another call any minute.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jesse said.
He jogged up the stairs with Harris and Gareth, but this still put him behind Dom. In a
position where he could clearly see Dom’s orange pants stretching across his tight ass.
Jesse very nearly tripped. Why the hell am I looking at his ass? He’s a bastard!
Worse, he could only smell that distinct blackwood scent now—Dom’s scent. It was
complex, rich, taunting. Jesse wished he could stop himself from breathing it in.
Except, of course, they had to all settle down inside a meeting room, and close the door.
More blackwood scent.
The three firefighters sat on one side of the long oval table, leaving the seats on the
other side open to Jesse. “Have a seat,” Harris said pleasantly.
Jesse was secretly glad that he didn’t have to sit right across from Dom.
The interview started off just like Toni had said it would: introductions, questions about
why Jesse wanted this job. Those, he could handle.
Dom shuffled a stack of papers. My resume, Jesse realized.
“It says here that you’ve been working at a burger place.” Dom tapped on a line that
Jesse had painstakingly typed out on a computer. “You began this job nine months ago.
You’re twenty. What were you doing before that? I see no mention of high school at
all.”
A memory flashed through Jesse’s mind—a dark cell, and the white-hot pain of a
needle. Countless needles. So much screaming, and no way to get out. His hands shook.
He kept them clenched, pressed against his thighs so they did not betray him. Toni had
advised him on this, too.
“I was off finding myself,” he said, his heart thumping.
“Does finding yourself involve collecting some scars?” Dom nodded at Jesse’s arms.
Was he being sarcastic? Jesse’s instincts rumbled with annoyance. This is an interview, he
told himself. This is part of the job. I need the job. “What happened to my body isn’t for
you to judge.”
Dom didn’t seem convinced. “It’s not a good look, bringing a gangster onto the team.”
As though Jesse would deliberately go out and pick fights like some common thug. Was
that what Dom thought he was? Just like everyone else did? Didn’t Dom’s superhuman
vision tell him anything?
“I’m not a gangster,” Jesse hissed before he could stop himself.
Dom met his eyes with a hard stare. “Short fuse. Not something we’re looking for,
either.”
Holy gods-damnit, but this man somehow dug under Jesse’s skin faster than anyone
else did.
“This is part of the test,” Harris said placidly, giving Dom a wry look. “We face a
number of calls from distraught citizens. Keeping your cool is one of the most
important things on the job.”
“You will be mistaken for a gangster,” Dom said flatly. “Either learn to deal with it, or
forget about the job.”
That stung. Jesse took deep, calming breaths. Ignore him. Just ignore that bastard. Never
mind that Dom had tricked Jesse into getting his hackles up.
“On to a better topic,” Harris suggested. “Tell us about your childhood.”
That was an unexpectedly personal question. But Jesse could answer it—assuming that
The Bastard didn’t butt in with his comments again. “My dad’s an engineer. My mom’s
a housewife. Last I looked, I had a sister—”
“Last you looked?” Gareth raised an eyebrow.
Jesse flushed. He knew he should’ve gone home. He knew he should’ve visited his
parents the moment he was released. Hug his mom, say hi to his dad. But the way
everyone else looked at him... It made him falter.
Jesse had tried to make friends at the fast food place. His coworkers had looked askance
at his scars. At the grocery store, the shoppers gave him a wide berth. When he’d
attended his evening classes for his GED, even the teachers were afraid to meet his eyes.
The more he’d returned to these places, the more alienated Jesse had felt.
He’d thought about going home and admitting to his dad, I was a prisoner for six years.
They tortured me the whole time. And I couldn’t fight back.
He’d imagined his dad’s disappointment, and he just... couldn’t. Maybe Mom and Dad
had had another kid in the time Jesse was gone, as a replacement for him. Jesse didn’t
know. He didn’t dare look too hard on their Facebook pages.
So here he was, interviewing in Meadowfall, too afraid and ashamed to go home. Too
much of a sap to live further from Highton, where his family was.
“I moved out,” he said lamely.
“Any particular reason why you haven’t been back?” Harris asked.
“I’m not sure they want me back.”
That was as much detail as they were going to get. He felt Dom’s stare on him, probably
reading too much. Or misreading him, whatever. Fuck him. Not in that sense, but.
Jesse turned his attention back to Harris. “Anyway, my mom and dad are really happy
with each other. That’s what I remember about my childhood—spending time with
them. We used to garden together and everything. There was once my mom made a
flower crown for my dad; she took a picture of him wearing it. Then she sent it out with
all the Christmas cards, and everyone called him Flower Dad for the longest time.”
Just saying that—it made his throat tighten. Gods, he’d missed them.
Gareth smiled. Even Harris did. “So if we were to present you with a flower crown,
you’d like that, too?” Gareth asked.
“Maybe,” Jesse said. He wasn’t sure. Did coworkers do that with each other?
“You tell Alec that, and he’ll bring you ten of those,” Gareth said dryly. “He’s one of
our new guys. Very excitable. Loves a good prank or five.”
They seemed nice. Like people Jesse would get along with. Briefly, Jesse imagined what
it would be like, to work alongside Harris and Gareth and that new guy, Alec. It felt like
this could... become a second home.
Dom shuffled the papers, laying them down. “You aren’t going to discuss this?” He slid
two sheets over to Harris and Gareth. “Psych evaluation at 60%. He’s not an optimal
fit.”
Jesse’s stomach plummeted. There was that. Toni had said she’d done her best, but she
couldn’t lie on an official document.
“He has two solid testimonials,” Harris pointed out. One from Nate, and one from Toni.
“I’m willing to take a chance.”
“Well, I’m not.” Dom narrowed his eyes, flicking a glance at Jesse. “He came in looking
like a mess. Fluid all over his clothes.”
He saw that? A jolt went up Jesse’s spine. And now he couldn’t decide if he hated this
insane nit-pickiness that was Dom, or if he was flattered that someone had seen
something aside from his scars. For the first time.
“I’m not hiring someone who can’t show up decently for an interview,” Dom said.
“That’s an immediate fail.”
Jesse’s stomach shrank into a tiny lump.
For six months, he’d worked his ass off at the fire academy, taking classes at night,
thinking he’d make it to the Meadowfall station and it would be the best thing, because
at least he had a friend here. He didn’t know how to make friends. And he was starting
to grow fond of Harris and Gareth. To fuck this up because he’d washed his face and
not changed his shirt, thinking no one would notice... He hadn’t been counting on
meeting someone like Dom.
I can’t give up right now. I’ve gotten this far.

“I have two things going for me,” Jesse blurted, his heart about to burst. Three heads
turned to look at him. He wet his lips. “I learn things fast. All the skills you see on my
resume—the basic car repairs, the driving, the GED and fire academy—I did it all in
nine months.”
Dom’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
“What’s the second thing?” Harris asked.
This part was risky. Jesse plowed on with it anyway. “I’ve survived a huge deal of pain.
You see it on my skin. Burns, punctures, poisons, drugs—you name it. I don’t have any
dependents. If you need to send someone into someplace risky, if you don’t want to
sacrifice the rest of your team, I’ll do it.”
For once, Dom had nothing to say to that.
Harris looked hard at Jesse. “I know we’ve been over this, but give me another answer.
Why do you want to be a firefighter?”
“Because I don’t want anyone else to be in pain.”
A hint of a smile crossed Harris’ lips. “For the record,” he said, “no one gets sacrificed.
We’re all family here. But thank you, Jesse. I believe we’ve come to the end of our
interview. If you’ll step outside for five minutes...”
With every scar on his skin prickling, Jesse stood, excusing himself from the meeting
room.
“W HAT WAS THAT ABOUT ?” Gareth shot Dom a sideways look, his stare probing too
deep for comfort. “Never seen you raze a candidate to the ground before.”
Even Harris raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
Damn it. Dom shifted uncomfortably. He’d known his questions would garner this
reaction from his teammates, but he hadn’t been able to help himself—everything about
Jesse Sinclair set him on edge.
“The psych eval,” he said. “60%, Harris. Really? We shouldn’t even have called him in
for an interview.”
60% was on the lower end of applications they received. It didn’t mean the candidate’s
personality didn’t fit. Rather, it was a number that indicated a candidate’s overall
mental stability—something that would be strained during the course of the job. They
usually recruited people in the 80-95% range.
Dom always looked at that number first, but he’d been distracted when he’d glanced at
Sinclair’s application.
“He seemed fairly stable to me,” Gareth said.
“Discounting the short fuse,” Dom muttered.
“It’s not like you have a long fuse, either.” Harris elbowed Dom in the side.
Dom scowled. “I don’t need to babysit someone I can’t trust.”
“He isn’t Mal,” Gareth said.
Pain dug deep into Dom’s gut, stealing his breath away. That was low. If he didn’t hear
that name for another ten years, it would still be too soon. “We’re not talking about
that.”
“But that’s the precise reason you look at all the psych scores first,” Harris reminded
him.
“We’re not talking about Mal,” Dom growled. Perks of having your best friends on
your team? You could trust them 200% of the time. Downsides? They absolutely knew
how to stab your most vulnerable spots. In their sleep. Even if you knew they meant
well.
“Psych eval scores aren’t the only thing we consider—you know that,” Harris said.
“Besides, he isn’t an omega.”
Unlike Mal, who had been one. Mal had been crazy and brilliant, and he’d had his
glorious high days, when he’d grabbed Dom and danced around their living room, his
smile blinding. But his low days, well. They’d gone badly, even after he’d married
Dom.
Dom hadn’t been enough to stop Mal, the day Mal stepped off the roof of the tallest
building.
He breathed out the sharp ache in his body, shoving those thoughts aside. “I’m not
looking for an omega.”
“And yet you fixate on the psych scores,” Harris said dryly. “We’re not recruiting a
lover for you.”
“I don’t need to deal with an alpha like that, either,” Dom hissed.
Except Sinclair’s scent had dug under his skin in the strangest way. Dom hadn’t smelled
anyone like that before. He hated that he wanted to smell that scent again. “I’m not into
alphas,” he said.
Harris, the one who was actually married to an alpha and an omega, raised an eyebrow.
“Which is why you’re being weird about Jesse Sinclair.”
Dom scowled. “Doesn’t his scent bother you?”
Both Harris and Gareth looked oddly at him. “His scent?” Harris asked.
“Yeah.” Dom paused. “Didn’t you smell it?”
“Cinnamon, right?” Gareth asked.
It had been an earthy sort of cinnamon, dark and sweet in a way no alpha scent was.
Alpha scents were woodsy, beta scents grassy, and omega scents were the sweet ones,
because they smelled like flowers.
So when Sinclair had stepped into the station, Dom had thought an omega had walked
in, at first. Then he’d decided that someone had brought in some cookies. But no, it had
been an alpha. Something wasn’t quite right about that.
“It’s too fucking sweet,” he said.
“But cinnamon is a tree, too,” Gareth pointed out.

“I’ve never come across anyone else with that scent.” Dom looked at his friends. “Have
you?”
Both of them shook their heads. Gareth pulled out his phone, doing a quick internet
search. “Huh, looks like cinnamon isn’t on the list of human scents. And they even list
the rare ones.”
“Could be a body spray,” Harris said.
“He doesn’t seem the type to use body spray,” Gareth answered. “The only people who
do, are those who have something to hide.”
Was Sinclair hiding something? Why else would he smell so strange?
But there was nothing normal about him. Definitely not the slew of scars on his tan
skin—deliberate lines and mottled patches on his shaved head, down his face. Bullet
scars on his forearms, and strange beads under his skin—body modifications? What
kind of person did that to himself? It wasn’t someone Dom wanted on the team.
More than that, he shouldn’t have noticed Sinclair’s lips, or the striking blue of his eyes.
Or how he was a couple inches shorter than Dom, but broader, bulkier, like he’d been
on steroids at some point.
Someone like that shouldn’t make Dom’s blood thrum. Especially not in a way he
couldn’t explain. Jesse Sinclair was wrong in every single way.
“What if his actual scent’s reacting with something to give him the cinnamon scent?”
Gareth asked. “Think that would explain it?”
“Scents don’t react,” Harris shot back. “They just stack up, like honey on top of an
omega’s personal scent.”
“It’s strong, though. I could smell it even before he stepped in.”
Dom rubbed his face, boggled by the sheer ludicrousness of this conversation. “Look,”
he said. “We’re in a meeting. To discuss a potential hire. Why the hell are we fixating on
his scent?”
Gareth and Harris looked at him. “Because you started it,” Harris said.
Well, fuck. “We’re not hiring him,” Dom said.
Harris raised an eyebrow. “Actually, we are.”
“What the hell?” Dom glared, feeling betrayed. “He fails on account of his psych eval
alone.”
“But his motivation is a solid 120%,” Harris replied. “And he loves his family. That’s
important. If he’s telling the truth about his learning abilities, that’ll come in really
handy. We’ll train him up to drive the rigs, and he’ll be doing a fire science course in no
time.”
“Who learns to drive when they’re twenty, though?” Gareth looked thoughtful. “GED,
too. What was he doing when he could’ve been in high school?”
It wasn’t any of Dom’s business, even if the questions also nagged at him. “I’m not real
pleased about this. But if you’re hiring him, there’s no way I’ll agree to a 6-month
probie period. One year, minimum.”
“Deal,” Harris said.
“And I’m not mentoring him,” Dom added.
“Damnit.” Harris grinned. “Threw a wrench into my plans, right there.”
“I’ll do it,” Gareth volunteered. “But you’re telling him he’s hired, Dom.”
Dom rolled his eyes. “You’re not the boss.”
“Actually, Gareth has a point.” Harris had the smuggest look on his face. “Why don’t
you be the bearer of good news, for once? I’m sure our new hire will love to hear it from
your lips.”
“Fuckers.” If Dom didn’t love his friends, he’d probably have murdered them a long
time ago.
He flipped them off and stepped out of the meeting room. For effect, he slammed the
door behind him.
Paces away, Jesse Sinclair jumped and whirled around, a flash of panic darting through
his eyes.
Something in Dom’s chest pulled tight, something that said, Protect.
What the fuck? He shouldn’t be feeling that. Not for a new hire, not for his subordinate.
Definitely not for another alpha.
Someone who needed protection shouldn’t belong on the team.
He whirled around, heading straight back into the meeting room. Made sure he shut
the door tight.
Harris raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“Fuck yes,” Dom hissed. “Did you read the psych report before you made your
decision?”
Harris glanced at the papers Dom had left on the meeting table. “Yes.”
“Then you know he has PTSD. That’s even before he sees any of the shit on the job.”
That was why Sinclair scored 60% on that eval. That was why Dom didn’t want him on
the team.
“Yes, I’m aware.” Harris stood, rounding the table. “I spoke to Nate about him. He
deserves a chance.”
“Even if he freaks out in the middle of a call?” Dom narrowed his eyes. “Do you
seriously want to put our team at risk?”
Harris was quiet for a moment. “You know as well as I do that there are already
firefighters with PTSD. They’re still able to carry out their duties.”
Dom nodded at the door. “Jumped when I left the room. We’ve got a more serious case
on our hands.”
“He’ll need some supervision,” Harris said at length. “But I think his past may help him
on the job instead.”
Dom ran Harris’ words over in his mind. Despite Dom’s accusations, Harris took the
team’s safety very seriously. So something else must’ve convinced him to hire Sinclair.
“What exactly did Nate tell you?”
But Harris only shrugged. “Talk to Nate yourself. It isn’t my story to share.”
Like it was Nate’s? Except no matter what Dom believed, nothing changed the fact that
Jesse Sinclair wasn’t as mentally stable as Dom wanted him to be. And someone like
that... he could pull a Mal, and fuck up Dom’s entire life. Even if he was Dom’s
teammate. Especially if he was Dom’s teammate, because all of those guys were his
family.
Dom had spent so much effort putting himself back together, that he wasn’t willing to
risk it again. Except Harris was team captain, and when he’d made a decision, even
Dom couldn’t sway him.
Wishing fervently that he wouldn’t regret this, Dom heaved a sigh, stepping back out
into the office.
Sinclair faced the meeting room, his eyes narrowed—but he was completely present.
For now, at least. Who knew if he could handle some of the calls they faced?
Chances were, Jesse Sinclair would fuck up, and Harris would ask him to leave. No
need for Dom to get involved.
Dom headed toward the man, not bothering to stop.
But as he brushed past Sinclair, and as their arms touched for the briefest second, a jolt
of electricity sparked through his skin. What the hell was that?
Sinclair sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn’t have felt that, too.
Without stopping, Dom said, “You’re hired.”
He left the office without a backward look.

I WON ’ T FUCK UP , if it’s the last thing I do.
Jesse eyed the pool of white sludge that had flooded around the toppled truck, filling
up the better part of the wide ditch. When Gareth had said toothpaste truck accident, this
wasn’t what he’d pictured in his mind. Especially not the overpowering minty
freshness that permeated through the air.
“Okay there, Jes?” Gareth called.
“Yeah,” Jesse answered. He sank his foot carefully into the toothpaste, carefully putting
his weight on it—there was no telling how deep the toothpaste went. Then he took
another step, and another, the toothpaste squelching when he pulled his feet out of the
thick, sucking stuff.
When he reached the truck, Jesse set his ladder next to the cab, so he could climb in to
help the driver out. “Careful there, sir,” he said, reaching forward. “Are you hurt?”
“Naw, I’m fine.” The man grasped Jesse’s hand. He took a second look at Jesse’s scars,
but Jesse was almost used to it at this point. “You okay, boy?”
That was a surprise—few people ever cared how Jesse was. A smile crept up his lips.
“Yeah, I am. Let’s get you out of there.”
The man climbed out after Jesse, patting his shoulder. Jesse helped him through the
toothpaste, all the way to the side of the road. “What should I do next?” he asked
Gareth.
“Retrieve the ladder,” Gareth instructed. “We’ll wait for the tow truck to straighten this
up.”
“Right.” Jesse waded back through the toothpaste, taking a shortcut to the ladder.
Halfway there, his foot caught on something solid.
He was too late to stop his momentum. His stomach clenching, Jesse lurched face-first
into the white stuff, throwing his arms out to break his fall. Toothpaste slathered all
over his face and his front, cushioning the impact somewhat. Except it also got into his
mouth and eyes, filling his lungs with peppermint.
Damn it. That wasn’t the impression he wanted to make, not on his very first call. At
least Dom wasn’t here to see it.
Feeling infinitely disappointed with himself, Jesse spat, sitting up to recover his
bearings. His skin tingled all over with mint.
“Broke anything?” Gareth called.
Jesse shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Good. I wouldn’t know how to answer to Dom otherwise.”
Ugh. Not him. At Jesse’s grimace, Gareth laughed. “Relax,” Gareth added. “I was
pulling your leg.”
“He has something against me,” Jesse blurted. Then, afraid that he’d said the wrong
thing, he glanced at Gareth.
Gareth shook his head. “You’re fine. Get up, get the ladder. We’ll head back to the
station soon so you can clean up.”
Dom would be at the station when they got back, wouldn’t he? He’d sneer the moment
he saw that Jesse had fucked up.
It was no secret that Dom didn’t want Jesse on the team. Jesse had panicked a little
when Dom had slammed the door the other day. For a moment there, Jesse had thought
the Facility’s guards had shown up, that they were coming to tranq him and bring him
back into his cell.
But it had only been Dom. Jesse had calmed himself down, he’d breathed through the
panic.
And That Bastard had brushed right by like he’d seen Jesse as someone incompetent.
Hate was too strong a word for what Jesse felt, but damn—he wished he could’ve
punched off that condescending look Dom had given him.
Even this morning—Dom had glanced right over Jesse when he’d done the morning
briefing. As though Jesse wasn’t even on the team. It wasn’t fair. But Jesse had
convinced himself that he was sticking through this job, he was going to make sure
Dom never looked at him that way again.
Jesse wiped the toothpaste out of his eyes, fetched the ladder, and set it back on the fire
truck. Then, while they waited for the tow truck to show up, he tried scrubbing off as
much of the toothpaste as he could. Gareth pointed him to some paper towels.
Later, as they were driving back to the station, Jesse sniffed at his clothes. “I still stink of
toothpaste, don’t I?”
Gareth sniffed at him. “Somewhat. Hey, it’s better than sewage.”
Jesse winced. “True. It was a lot of toothpaste, though. I thought they transported that
in tubes. Or metal drums.”
Gareth shrugged. “Maybe some company was trying out something new.”
Probably. And Gareth was right—toothpaste wasn’t the worst thing ever. Maybe Dom
could somehow be convinced of that.
They pulled into the station, Jesse still with toothpaste caked into his clothes. Almost
immediately, he spotted Dom on the far side of the garage. So Jesse made sure to keep
out of his view, wiping off the traces of toothpaste he’d left on the seat. Then he climbed
out of the truck, tagging along as Gareth briefed him on his off-call duties.
“Make sure to replenish the truck supplies,” Gareth said. “You’ll find a checklist—”
“What is that smell?” Dom’s voice cut through the garage, rumbling and low. Some of
the alphas looked up.
Heat burned through Jesse’s face. Could you not?
But Dom rounded the truck, six-foot-four of solid muscle. His gaze locked immediately
onto Jesse. And all the toothpaste on Jesse’s skin tingled.
“It’s just toothpaste,” Gareth said dryly. “I have some on my pants, too.”
Dom ignored him. Instead, he surveyed Jesse, his gaze raking down every inch of
Jesse’s body. Not in the way the potential buyers had leered back at the Facility, no.
Dom’s gaze was hard, cold, and it almost felt as though Dom could see through Jesse’s
clothes to his skin.
Somehow, that odd something in Jesse’s body jolted again. Like it had that very first day.
What’s that supposed to mean? Jesse rubbed self-consciously at the smears of toothpaste
he’d missed, wishing he’d thought to look in the truck mirror. So he could tidy up
before Dom inspected him to hell and back.
“You tripped and fell?” Dom glanced at Gareth for confirmation. “On your first call.”
Jesse’s cheeks scorched. He didn’t want Dom to see him as some fumbling idiot.
“Give the guy a break,” Gareth said. “There was toothpaste all over the ditch. Bet you
fifty bucks that you wouldn’t have made it through without falling over, either.”
Dom scowled and turned away. “Make sure you’re ready to handle the next call. Quit
teaching him to slack off, Gareth.”
Gareth sighed. “Yes, sir.” In a lower tone, he said to Jesse, “You know what, let’s get
through this real quick, and you can go grab a shower. Can’t learn well if you’re
scratching all over.”
How was it that Gareth could be so nice, and That Bastard had to be an asshole all the
time?
Jesse made sure to remember all of Gareth’s instructions.
When Gareth dismissed him, he headed into the locker room, shed his clothes, and
brought the shirt and pants with him to the shower stalls. Just to see if he could scrub
them off at the same time.
Like the Facility, the showers here had no doors. Jesse thought he’d heard a couple of
the guys grumbling about it, but it wasn’t a big deal to him. Countless people had ogled
and prodded and photographed his naked body by this point.
None of his teammates had seen him naked, though. None of them knew the extent of
the scars he had. Probably for the best that no one asked about them.
Jesse stepped into the very last stall, turning the water so scalding-hot that it stung his
skin. He scrubbed the dried toothpaste off his scalp, dug it out of his ears, and wiped
down his sticky chest with his shirt.
In the midst of all the other scars, that large silver line stretched right down the middle
of his abs. That cut had hurt him inside, for weeks. He’d almost thought he’d heard
Rutherford say something about six months, but six months had come and gone, and
nothing had happened. It wasn’t until a year ago, that Nate had blasted through the
walls of the Facility and pulled Jesse out.
With his body clean, Jesse picked up his pants, holding it under the shower to soak it
through. Then he began scrubbing the paste out of the heavy fabric.
Oddly enough, water started to pool at his feet. It shouldn’t—the drain was right here
in his stall. And there was no hair clogging it up.
With an ear perked for the station’s alarm system, Jesse scrubbed the toothpaste off half
his pants, and shut the water off. The stagnant water was starting to creep toward the
stall entrance.
He threw the shirt over his shoulder and stepped out into the locker room, searching for
a plunger or a drain snake—there was no fucking way he’d let Dom blame him for this,
too.
Right then, voices sounded from elsewhere in the station. The voices stopped outside
the locker room and the door swung open, two alphas stepping in.
“I thought about doing some investments,” Gareth said to the person behind him.
“Don’t have an omega to spend it on, but Sawyer’s in college. I thought it might come
in handy.” Then he looked up, staring at Jesse’s body. “Damn, son.”
But because some higher power had decided that today was Jesse’s unluckiest day, Dom
was the one who stepped in next.
The locker room door squeaked loudly as it swung shut.
Dom had stopped just behind Gareth, following his stare. Jesse’s skin prickled
everywhere Dom looked.
So what if he was naked? They were all alphas. Big deal. Except Dom’s attention
dragged over his skin like a physical touch, hotter and heavier than it had any right to
be. Dom scrutinized Jesse’s chest and abs, his gaze dark, intent, like he was cataloging
every single scar. Jesse fought the urge to cover himself up.
He knew he should. Those scars were from a time when he was powerless, at the mercy
of his captors. But by hiding them, he was admitting to a past he was ashamed of. So he
clenched his fists by his sides, and let Dom look.
At Jesse’s hips, Dom’s attention lingered. He could’ve been looking at the 301 scar. Or
Jesse’s cock. More likely the scar, because why the hell would Dom McAsshole be
interested in Jesse’s junk?
And yet something inside Jesse jerked under Dom’s attention. He fought the feeling of
his blood swooping between his legs. Why the hell is this happening to me? Dom’s an alpha.
I’m not interested in him.
But maybe Dom was being an asshole because part of him wanted to look at Jesse’s
cock. That was insane. But still a possibility.
“I’m looking for a drain snake,” Jesse blurted, trying to see if Dom would react. “The
shower’s flooded. I’m gonna fix it.”
Gareth waved toward the lockers. “First door, it’s unlocked. But gods, Jes. What
happened to you?”
Dom’s throat worked like he wanted to say something. He dragged his eyes back up
Jesse’s body, leaving warmth all over Jesse’s skin in a way that was so wrong, he had no
words for it. Then he met Jesse’s eyes, his gaze unreadable. Intent. Surely it wasn’t
anything good.
Gareth. He’d asked a question. About Jesse’s scars. And there was no way Jesse was
explaining himself, not with Dom about to judge him any second. “Shit happened.”
Gareth nodded, heading to his locker. “Ah. Gotcha.”
This left Dom on one side of the room, and Jesse on the other. Jesse set down his pants,
then his shirt. And he realized belatedly that the 301 on his shoulder was now visible,
too.
It wasn’t like they were tattoos. They were burn scars. Jesse didn’t know a normal
person who’d had numbers branded into their skin.
When he looked back at Dom, he found the alpha staring at his shoulder. Dom was
fixating on the burn scars, then. Maybe, with the way he’d ogled Jesse’s body, maybe
Jesse could get on his good side.
Jesse swallowed all the obscenities he wanted to hurl at his deputy. “Thanks for giving
me a chance on the team. I really appreciate it.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Dom’s stare hardened; his lips thinned. “It wasn’t my
choice. If it were, you’d be long gone by now.”
Who the fuck said shit like that? Jesse stared, trying to believe what he’d just heard.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.” Dom didn’t even look like he possessed an ounce of remorse.
Hot anger bubbled through Jesse’s gut. I say thanks, and this is how you react? You’re
seriously a deputy? He clenched his fists, forcing down the temptation to lunge at Dom.
But he let himself stalk forward, closing the distance between them. Until his chest
bumped against Dom’s and his cock rubbed against the rough fabric of Dom’s pants.
Dom’s copper-brown stare pierced his eyes, unrelenting. His breath soughed onto
Jesse’s mouth, and that taunting blackwood scent filled Jesse’s lungs.
“Fuck you,” Jesse breathed, almost dizzy with how much he wanted to punch this man.
“I’m gonna stay, and I’m gonna prove you so damn wrong, you’ll wish you’d never
said that to me.”
Dom held his stare. In the barest hint of a whisper, he answered, “What makes you
think you’ll be the one doing the fucking?”
It took Jesse a second to wrap his mind around that. Another moment for him to realize
that Dom was talking to him about fucking. And that Dom wouldn’t be the one on the
bottom. No, he would fuck Jesse into the ground.
A dark thrill shot down Jesse’s spine.
Before he could begin to react, Dom pushed back, his chest solid against Jesse’s, his
bulge grinding onto the bare skin of Jesse’s cock—which was even more sensitive now
that it was half-hard. Pleasure shot down Jesse’s nerves; it was the first touch he’d
gotten there in a while. And it had been from Dom.
“Fuck you anyway,” Jesse hissed.
“You’ll never win this,” Dom murmured, his eyes flashing. His nostrils flared, like he
was memorizing Jesse’s scent.
With a final hard thrust—coarse fabric scraped against Jesse’s cock in a mix of
discomfort and pleasure—Dom whirled around, striding out of the locker room.
His sudden absence left a draft of cool air against Jesse’s front. Jesse’s erection jutted up
traitorously; he hated that it had reacted to Dom that way.
He flipped Dom off with both his hands. Didn’t matter that Dom wasn’t here to see it.
Then, before Gareth could turn and glimpse Jesse’s hard-on, Jesse pulled on his
underwear, hiding his arousal with a spare pair of pants.
He wasn’t going to jerk off to that bastard. He just wasn’t.
The only person he hated more than Dom, was that crazy psychopath, Dr. Larson. And
it was a very good thing that Larson was now in prison.
O F ALL THINGS , Alec had to invite Sinclair to bar night. Worse, Dom had agreed to
show up—because he always did. That was before he’d found out that Sinclair would
be there, too.
He stared at his reflection, straightening his collar. Trimmed a few stray hairs off his
eyebrows.
He was stalling. In fact, he was running kind of late, because he was still hanging on to
the possibility that he could sit this one out.
Bar nights were a chance for Dom to kick back with his team, talk about stupid things,
and not have their conversations interrupted every ten minutes by a call. Bar nights
were when Dom went a bit easier on his family—just slightly. But he talked about
things he liked, he listened to his friends, and... became better friends with them.
It was part of bonding. But he was not willing to bond, in any way, shape, or form, with
Jesse Sinclair. The stakes were too high. Especially after that incident in the locker room.
When Sinclair had rubbed up against him, and all of Dom’s instincts had roared, Pin
him.
Sinclair was Dom’s subordinate. He was half Dom’s age, old enough to be his son, and
Dom couldn’t get that thick, flushed cock out of his mind.
It had just been curiosity. Dom had wondered what sort of cock that alpha had. Then
he’d found it growing bigger, as though Sinclair was responding to Dom looking at
him.
Stop thinking about that. He scrubbed his face, swallowing a mouthful of water from the
faucet. You just need to get laid.
But who was Sinclair to disrupt Dom’s routines?
Yeah, actually. Bar nights had begun with Gareth and Dom, back when Gareth had
dragged Dom out for a drink. They’d started inviting more of their team, and it had
grown into a sort of tradition. Dom had been to almost every single one of those nights.
And he wasn’t going to let someone like Sinclair put him off.
Teeth gritted, Dom checked his appearance in the mirror, grabbed his coat, and set off
for downtown.
As he stepped out of the cab, and as he saw the familiar logo of his favorite bar, he
thought he smelled a distinct cinnamon scent. Dom’s blood thrummed. No, I’m not
fucking him tonight. Not ever.
He straightened his coat and puffed up his chest, stepping into the bar. Because he was
in charge.
The team was in its usual spot in the back, where it was a little quieter. Dom headed
over. They’d left an empty seat for him.
It wasn’t until he was right next to the table, that he realized Gareth was smirking. Two
alphas flanked the empty seat—Alec, and someone with broad shoulders and a scarred,
shaved head. Dom’s cock jerked. Damn it.
As he drew his chair back, Sinclair stiffened.
“Nice of you to join us, Dom,” Gareth drawled. He was wearing a shit-eating grin. “You
were so late, we saved a seat for you.”
Chances were, ten to one, Gareth had put Sinclair right next to Dom’s seat. Dom
brushed his hand through his hair, leaving his middle finger discreetly up.
Gareth wasn’t even the slightest bit cowed. He sipped from his drink. “Stuck in traffic?”
“Yeah,” Dom lied, taking a seat.
“That’s not like you,” Alec piped up. “You’re always early.”
Sinclair glanced toward Dom, his nostrils flaring, his chest rising and falling a little
more deeply. Whether it was adrenaline or he was sniffing at Dom, Dom didn’t want to
know.
He could feel the heat pouring off Sinclair, though. Maybe he was sitting far too close to
that man. So he pulled his chair away, turning to order his drink.
His knee bumped into Sinclair’s thigh; the man tensed. Dom yanked his leg away, so
there wasn’t a point of contact between them. It’s just a bump, he told himself. But
Sinclair’s thigh had been solid, muscular. Taunting.
“So, was it an accident that held you up?” Gareth asked.
Dom bit his tongue. Gareth knew exactly how Dom felt about their new recruit. “Yeah.”
“Something like a toothpaste accident?” Gareth’s smile sharpened.
Damn that man. Like Dom needed a reminder of that day. Across the table, Gareth met
Dom’s gaze, his expression knowing.
Sinclair’s ears turned pink. The rest of his face, too. It shouldn’t look that good on him.
It shouldn’t make Dom twice as aware of that cinnamon scent.
“Fuck off,” Dom muttered. “You were talking about investments. Get back to it.”
Gareth grinned. “Yes, sir.”
As though he would give Dom any dignity, now that they were off-duty.
The waiter stopped by the table with Dom’s usual—a whiskey sour, complete with a
slice of lemon skewered around a maraschino cherry. Sinclair’s gaze locked onto it,
following the drink as Dom lifted it to his lips.
Dom took a sip. The lemon tartness rushed over his tongue first, followed by whiskey
and a faint sweetness. Then it all burned down his throat.
Whiskey sours hadn’t always been Dom’s usual. They’d been Mal’s. Dom had begun
drinking them after his death, just to trick himself into feeling as though Mal was still
around. These days, the need had mellowed out into a habit.
Sinclair was still staring when Dom set the glass down. “Problem?” Dom asked.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Just seems like a drink an omega would order. That’s all.”
Alec snorted. Nate smiled. Gareth raised an eyebrow—he was the only one who knew.
Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut.
“You mean the cherry?” Dom asked, casually picking the knotted bamboo skewer out
of his drink. He wasn’t going to acknowledge the ache that question wrought in his
chest. He wasn’t giving Sinclair that kind of power over him.
Instead, he bit into the lemon slice, dragging it to the end of the skewer. There, he freed
one side of the slice. Sinclair was watching him openly now. “Crushing cherries is a
hobby of mine,” Dom said.
And, still holding his stare, Dom bit the cherry off the skewer, rolling it deeper into his
mouth. He ground it between his molars, until juice squirted onto his tongue, sweet and
boozy.
Sinclair’s jaw went slack. It took him a moment. Then he understood, his eyes flying up
to meet Dom’s.
Yeah, it gave Dom a kick to see the shock on his face. It was hardly professional. But
whatever this thing was between them, it had stopped being professional since that
very first day.
Gareth snorted and began choking on his drink. Nate pounded on his back. “You
okay?” Nate asked.
Served Gareth right.
“Wait, what?” Alec’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Immediately after, Dom wanted to punch himself for pulling that crap. Whatever was
between himself and Sinclair, it couldn’t bleed into the rest of the team. He wasn’t
willing to take that risk.
He dropped the skewer back into his glass. “I was messing with him,” Dom said. “Next
topic.”
He avoided Gareth’s questioning stare, and he very definitely avoided Sinclair’s eyes
for the next hour. Mostly, Dom let the rest of the guys talk—the less he shared, the less
he’d be vulnerable to the alpha next to him.
Later that night, Dom signaled for the bill. The waiter handed him the small leather
folder; Dom slid his credit card inside and passed it back.
Sinclair pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you? I think I have enough in
cash...”
“Jesse, no.” Alec laughed. “It’s bar night. It’s a treat. Dom and Gareth take turns footing
the bill.”
Sinclair froze, staring at Alec. Then he looked at Nate, who shrugged, and Gareth, who
nodded at Dom.
Slowly, like it pained him, Sinclair turned to meet Dom’s eyes. There was wariness in
his gaze, and a sort of dread that Dom wasn’t sure he liked.
Sinclair tightened his scarred fingers around his wallet, every rise of his chest stretching
his shirt. Was he... scared? Or just feeling awkward?
“Thanks,” Sinclair said, his voice low like an engine’s purr.
“No problem,” Dom answered, his own voice dipping into a rasp. As though his body
thought he was speaking to a lover. And because he wasn’t conscious of it until it
happened, it unnerved him.
A dark flush crept up Sinclair’s throat.
“Thanks, Dom,” Alec chirped, snapping that tension between them.
“Thanks,” Nate added.
Gareth just looked at Dom like he wanted explanations, but Dom didn’t have any to
give.
The next bar night, Sinclair was conspicuously absent.
S INCLAIR STOPPED SHOWING up to bar nights for a long time. To the extent that they
had another probie, York, join the station. By this point, York had attended more bar
nights than Sinclair had.
Almost a year had passed since that very first day. With each week, Dom felt the
inevitability of this sinking in: despite how easily Sinclair got spooked, he handled most
of his episodes well. He did his duties, he didn’t slack off even once. He got along with
the rest of the team.
Really, he was just as competent as a regular recruit, and the only person who still had a
problem with him, was Dom.
That was a secret. He’d buried it enough that even Gareth had gotten off his case. At the
station, Dom addressed that alpha by his name. Inwardly, Dom thought of him as
Sinclair, because he wanted to maintain some distance between them.
He still remembered Mal, and how easily Mal had ripped his heart into shreds. Mal,
who had managed to seem so normal before Dom had gotten to know him. In the years
they’d been together, Mal’s mental health had been all over the place. He’d never talked
to Dom about ending his life, though.
That always felt like a betrayal, every time Dom thought about it.
One week before Sinclair’s probie period ended, Dom overheard a conversation.
“Aww, just join us this one time,” Alec said, his voice echoing all over the locker room.
“You’ll graduate from being a probie next week!”
“‘Sides, bar nights are fun,” York added. “You’ve been missing out on all the free booze.
Come celebrate!”
Sinclair’s voice was measured, hesitant. “But who’s paying for it?”
Dom stared at the shower water pooling around his feet. Me. It figured, that Sinclair still
remembered that first bar night. That Dom was the reason Sinclair didn’t want to show
up.
On a basal level, Dom was glad that they shared the same opinion about each other. The
further Sinclair held himself, the better off Dom would be.
“Uh, beats me,” Alec said. “Who even remembers stuff like that? All I know is, I owe
Gareth and Dom a lot of drinks.”
“I could ask Gareth,” York volunteered.
“No, there’s no need to,” Sinclair said immediately.
Because, what? He was afraid Dom would discover that Sinclair was avoiding him?
“So you’ll be there?” Alec asked. “It’s just a couple hours. Nate volunteered to drive us
home.”
“Unless you have something else you’d rather be doing,” York added. “Do you?”
“No,” Sinclair said eventually.
“Then you’re joining us.” There was a smile in Alec’s voice. “Woohoo! Bar night’s
gonna be fun!”
“I hope so,” Sinclair answered defeatedly.
Dom’s stomach flipped in the oddest way. It wasn’t like he’d followed up on that
promise to fuck Sinclair. Nothing had happened between them. Everything was strictly
professional—even if he’d had the occasional dream of that alpha bent over before him,
wearing only his scars.
There was no way Dom would admit that he’d woken up raging hard from those
dreams, thinking his cock was still slick from Sinclair’s tight hole.
Hell, even the thought of that—it was starting to make him hard.
Quit thinking about that. It wasn’t as though Sinclair was an omega, anyway. His hole
wouldn’t be slick. He shut off the water, drying his hair.
When Dom stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, the
conversation stopped.
“Oh, hey, Dom.” Alec grinned. “Didn’t know who was showering. You’re gonna be at
bar night, right?”
“Yeah.” Dom headed over to his locker. He didn’t even need to look, to know that
Sinclair had stiffened up somewhere to his right.
“Tell us when we can return the favor,” York said. “You’ve been paying for our drinks
for a long time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dom shrugged, pulling off his towel. Nudity wasn’t an issue in
the locker room... except he could feel a pair of eyes on him. No points for guessing
who.
He pulled on his underwear and turned—just to see where Sinclair would look next.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t.
Blue eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Yeah, Sinclair had been staring. Somewhere
around Dom’s ass. And Dom remembered being in this same locker room a year ago,
Sinclair’s bare cock pushed up against his pants. That had haunted his dreams, too.
He pulled on his pants, then his shirt, his cock thickening with the fact that he still held
every single ounce of Sinclair’s attention. It was twisted. Dom didn’t know what the
hell was wrong with himself anymore.
But as long as he kept it quiet, no one would be any the wiser.
He shut his locker door, meeting Sinclair’s eyes again—just to show that he wouldn’t
back down from a challenge. “Quit slacking around,” he said to all of them.
Then he left the locker room, hoping like hell he would never soften up toward Sinclair.
That would be the end of him.

S INCLAIR WAS LATE to bar night. Conversation had started up all around Dom, and yet
he kept looking back at the empty seat across the table, waiting for that damn alpha to
show up.
“You sure are distracted.” Gareth leaned in so he could lower his voice.
Dom narrowed his eyes. “I’m not.”
Gareth only raised an eyebrow. “So tell me why you keep glancing at the door.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing,” Dom retorted, because he wasn’t.
Around them, York, Nate, and Alec were clinking glasses. Even Harris and Brad were
here. The married alphas didn’t usually show up—Dom couldn’t fault them for
wanting to spend time with their families.
Today was for celebrating Sinclair’s graduation into a regular firefighter, though, so the
whole team was present. Harris had wanted to foot the bill. Dom had arm-wrestled him
out of it—because it was supposed to be his turn, damn it.
Not because he wanted to pay for Sinclair’s drink. That was ridiculous.
He was lifting the glass of whiskey sour to his lips, turning to Gareth to prove he wasn’t
distracted, when he smelled cinnamon.
It shouldn’t snare his attention like it did, but Dom looked up. Gareth followed his
gaze.
Across the bar, Sinclair was stepping through the door, rain dripping down his face.
“Huh.” Gareth looked pointedly at Dom. “Something you’re not telling me?”
Like Dom had anything to say about Sinclair. “No.”
“You still want him off the team.”
Some days lately, when there were no reports of Sinclair going into a panic, Dom had to
dig deep into his memory, to remind himself that he did not agree to Jesse Sinclair
joining their station family. “Yeah,” Dom said. That was a stance he wouldn’t let
himself forget anytime soon. “I regret not making him a probie for two years.”
Gareth snorted. “You knew six months into his probation, that he’s perfectly capable.
He’s proven himself over and over.”
“He still hasn’t had a chance to fuck up big time.”
Gareth’s stare almost made him uneasy. “Why, because you can’t stand the sight of
him? Or because you don’t want to admit that you’ve got issues?”
Because no one else was looking their way, Dom flipped him off. Gareth rolled his eyes.
Dom focused on chewing up his lemon slice. He turned toward Alec and York, to try
and join in on their conversation.
Except it was damn distracting when Sinclair pulled his chair away from the table, and
the rest of the team greeted him.
“Hey, Jes!” York waved.
“Sure took your time, son,” Gareth said.
“Congrats on making it through the probie stage,” Harris added.
Sinclair cracked a smile, like he sometimes did with the others. It made him look
younger, actually. Less burdened by the world. Rain had streaked down his T-shirt, and
a droplet clung to the side of his jaw.
A small silver band wrapped around his earlobe—it hadn’t been there before.
Somehow, Dom knew the smooth, metallic weight of that earring on his tongue, even
before his conscious mind caught up. Why the hell does this keep happening?
Sinclair sat down, his gaze locking onto Dom. And that electric tension was back, that
wordless defiance in the set of Sinclair’s jaw. That Dom wanted to fuck out of him.
Brain. Stop. Not right now.
Dom didn’t look away. Instead, he waited until the waiter came up to take Sinclair’s
order, and Sinclair turned first.
“Yeah, you’ve got a problem,” Gareth muttered.
Like Dom needed to be told that.
The waiter left. The rest of the team fussed over Sinclair; Brad pretended to ruffle
Sinclair’s nonexistent hair. Nate hugged him. Alec actually pulled out a flower crown,
setting it on Sinclair’s head.
They were accepting him into their family—dangerous. Dom scowled at Harris. But
Harris only smirked. They’d argued about hiring that alpha. Now, Harris had won.
Dom hated losing.
Sinclair’s drink arrived shortly after—a marbled mix of dark and white, same as what
he’d ordered that very first bar night.
“A toast for Jesse.” Harris raised his glass.
Everyone followed suit. Dom went along because it didn’t pay to make a fuss now. As
much as it displeased him to welcome Sinclair to the team.
Over the drinks, his stare locked with Sinclair’s. The man’s lips moved soundlessly: I
win.
Like hell he had.
A coil of hot anger hissed through Dom’s veins. He didn’t agree to this. Not to having
that guy as his family, not to waking up drenched in sweat, his cock so hard it hurt.
Because of him.
Dom swallowed a large mouthful of whiskey, focusing on the burn down his throat.
Keep it cool. He’s not worth it. There wasn’t any point in making a scene, not when he
wanted to pin Sinclair down and wipe that smugness off his face. With a cock up that
alpha’s ass.
When everyone had settled down, and when they’d eased back into conversation, Dom
excused himself to use the restroom.
It was only when the door had shut behind him, that he slammed his fist into the wall.
No one else has a problem with him. Only you.
Why? Because no one else had someone like Sinclair rip their life apart?
In his head, he heard Gareth’s voice: He’s not Mal.
Only because Dom was fighting to keep it that way. If he hated Sinclair, then there was
no way Sinclair could walk out on him, and leave Dom crashing.
Except Dom was still pissed. Because Sinclair had dug under his skin, striking a nerve
somehow. I can’t let him get to me.
The fucker hadn’t even tried, and here Dom was, ready to punch a hole into the wall.
Breathe. He sucked in a deep breath, counted to ten, and exhaled. Then he repeated the
process another five times. He went to the sink to splash water on his face, the shock of
cold distracting him slightly.
The door squeaked open. Dom straightened, wiping his face off.
Of course, who else had to show up, but Sinclair himself?
Dom smelled the cinnamon immediately. He kept his eyes on his own reflection,
pulling a paper towel from the dispenser to dry his hands. But he couldn’t ignore the
intense presence that had stepped into the restroom, he couldn’t ignore the anticipation
that pulled his entire body taut.
They’d been alone together on the job. Dom had ignored Sinclair as best as he could
then. But right now—this wasn’t Dom being Sinclair’s deputy. This was just them as
alphas. Not family.
He felt Sinclair turn a little to look at him. Sinclair stepped over to the urinals. Then
came the rasp of a zipper in the silence, Sinclair pulling his cock out.
Dom remembered the thickness of that cock, the way it had rubbed up against his own.
It had grown hard in Dom’s dreams, it had spurted all over, Sinclair roaring beneath
him.
He wished he could stop listening to Sinclair piss. He knew he should walk out, right
now. But something kept his feet planted to the floor, his tongue heavy, a low thrum of
anger still coursing through his veins.
Dom wanted to fight him. He didn’t know how the hell that would turn out.
Sinclair finished with his business, tucking his cock back into his pants. His fly rasped.
Then he stepped over to the sinks, took the one right next to Dom’s, and washed his
hands.
He could’ve used the one on the far side. He didn’t. He was getting into Dom’s personal
space—a challenge.
Dom met his gaze in the mirror.
“You hate me,” Sinclair said.
“Yeah.”
“Why?” Sinclair rounded on him, his eyes flashing. “Because I’m not right in the head?”
Dom kept his own answering violence in check. “Smart one, aren’t you?”
The man narrowed his eyes, a low growl rumbling through his chest. He was getting
ready to fight. And maybe Dom would enjoy this—grabbing him, subduing him.
Shoving his entire body against Sinclair’s, feeling that raw muscle buck against him. He
couldn’t smell anything but cinnamon, now.
The second before Sinclair lunged, the door slammed open.
It bounced loudly off the wall, a sound that cracked through the entire restroom like a
gunshot.
Just like that, Sinclair startled, the anger in his face transforming—into shock and fear.
He whirled around, turning his back on Dom like he’d completely forgotten Dom was
there.
The two alphas who had stepped in looked up, surprised and wary. Sinclair raised his
fists—did he think they were going to attack him?
“Psycho,” the woman said, dragging a man along behind her.
Regardless of what Dom felt, Sinclair didn’t deserve to be called that. “He’s not.”
“Whatever.” The woman and her companion left a wide berth around Sinclair, but
Sinclair took a step forward, like he was about to attack them.
Dom grabbed his arm to stop him. Sinclair whirled around instead, his lips twisted into
a snarl.
If this had been a fair fight, Dom would’ve released him. But the look in Sinclair’s
eyes—he wasn’t present anymore.
Sinclair swung his fist. Dom grabbed his hand to catch the blow, shoving them both
around so he could pin Sinclair against the wall. Sinclair lunged. Dom threw his entire
weight against Sinclair’s chest, knocking him back. Sinclair was bulkier, with more
muscle; Dom almost couldn’t hold him down.
“Hey,” Dom growled. “Snap out of it.”
Sinclair tried to punch him again. Dom shoved harder at the man, chest on chest,
grasping both of Sinclair’s wrists to stave off more attacks.
“Sinclair,” Dom barked.
Hot breath puffed onto Dom’s chin. There was a wild look in Sinclair’s eyes, fueled by
anxiety.
What had happened to him, to make him this fucking scared?

Scarcely had that thought crossed Dom’s mind, than his instincts rumbled, Protect.
More so now, than what he’d felt that very first day. And the need to give in, to protect
Sinclair—it scared the shit out of Dom.
No. Hell no. He doesn’t fucking need it. “Jesse,” Dom snapped. “Shape up!”
Still struggling, Sinclair blinked. Then he froze against Dom, his stare sharpening.
In the moment after Sinclair’s wildness had passed, and before his guard fully went up,
Dom glimpsed the man that was Jesse Sinclair—lost and uncertain, and a little afraid.
He saw the dampness on Sinclair’s lips, he smelled the coffee liqueur on Sinclair’s
breath. He felt the heat of Sinclair’s body soaking into his own. And Dom suddenly
knew the taste of a white Russian on those lips, inside that mouth—without even
kissing that man.
He could claim Sinclair, right here.
I’m not kissing him. Why the fuck would I think that?
He released Sinclair’s wrists, rolling his weight back onto his heels to put some distance
between them. He needed to be angrier about this. He needed to wash his hands off this
alpha.
The scowl faded off Sinclair’s face, replaced by a guardedness that Dom felt better
about. “What the fuck happened?” Sinclair asked.
“The door slammed. You freaked out.”
Something flashed through Sinclair’s eyes—resignation, maybe? “Right.”
Just as Dom thought things couldn’t get any more awkward, the pair of alphas emerged
from the bathroom stalls, the woman throwing a baleful stare at them. “Psychos,” she
muttered again, dragging her companion out of the bathroom.
Sinclair flinched, avoiding Dom’s eyes.
As much as Dom didn’t want to reach out to Sinclair, he knew he couldn’t let this slide.
“You’re not one.”
Blue eyes snapped up, incredulous. “What do you mean?”
Dom shrugged, turning away. He wasn’t explaining how hurt Mal had been when
people called him a psycho.
“You hate me.”

He had to. Dom didn’t know what he felt anymore. But he sure hated the fact that, for a
second there, he’d been tempted to taste Sinclair’s lips. He’d wanted them to fight, so he
could feel Sinclair’s body against his own.
“Why the fuck are you like this?” Sinclair hissed, grabbing Dom’s arm. He swung Dom
around, getting all the way up into Dom’s personal space.
Dom met his eyes, his heart pounding, his lungs filling with cinnamon. For an instant,
he wondered how Sinclair would react, if Dom went and kissed him hard on the lips.
Then he dismissed the thought completely.
A kiss like that would change everything.
Dom wasn’t prepared, not in ten lifetimes, to get involved with Jesse Sinclair.
He yanked his arm out of Sinclair’s grip, striding out of the bathroom.
“E VERYONE KEEPS HOOKING UP WITH OMEGAS ,” Alec groaned, taking a swig of his
drink. “You’ll all stop coming to bar night. Pretty soon, it’s gonna be just me. You’ve
gotta promise me, Jes. Don’t let me suffer alone.”
Jesse shifted uncomfortably. Alec was getting drunk—something had set him off today,
and he’d been ordering twice as many rum and colas as he usually did. Jesse wasn’t
sure what he’d do with a drunk Alec. “I’ll try. You’ll probably end up getting hitched,
too.”
Alec scowled. “No, I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Alec flushed, refusing to say more. Did he have someone in mind?
“Anyway, you’re gonna find someone next, Jes. I just know it.”
If this had been a private conversation, Jesse wouldn’t have minded so much. But Dom
was sitting across the table, listening to every word. Probably judging Jesse more with
every second that passed.
“Give Jesse a break, Alec,” Nate said. “For all you know, he’s enjoying being single.”
“Are you?” Alec squinted.
Jesse shrugged. Mostly, he didn’t want to discuss this in front of Dom. He’d been
flipping through a dating app on his phone; none of the options had caught his eye. He
knew what he was looking for, though—someone who made him need.
Someone who could erase the tumult of emotions shooting through his gut every time
he thought about Dom—the anger, frustration, and shame.
He couldn’t erase the memory of that bar night a year ago, when he’d gone into a panic
right in front of Dom, and Dom had seen Jesse come undone. Because someone had
opened a fucking door behind him.
Jesse hated that Dom knew his weaknesses, he hated that Dom had seen him at his
worst. He hated that he still remembered the press of Dom’s body against his own,
Dom’s breath heavy on his lips, his stare piercing into Jesse like he’d seen all of Jesse,
and found him lacking.
Jesse had won—the rest of the team had welcomed him with open arms. Except Dom’s
disapproval carved deep into his bones, like an ache he couldn’t claw out.
He needed to prove himself, so Dom would stop looking at him that way. Or maybe he
just needed to plant his fist into Dom’s jaw. Maybe that violence would be enough.
You’re not a psycho, Dom had said. As though he actually saw anything good in Jesse. It
had probably been a lie.
“First York, and now Gareth,” Alec mumbled, starting to slur. “It’s gonna be one of you
next, isn’t it?”
Nate grabbed his arm. “You know, Alec, we should get you home before you puke on
everyone else.”
Jesse frowned. They’d only been here for an hour. But he would absolutely leave with
Nate and Alec. “I’ll help.”
Nate shook his head. “Naw, stay with Dom. I’ve got this. Get a few more drinks in.”
Alarm shot down Jesse’s nerves. He wasn’t staying behind with Dom. “No. I, uh.”
Then he felt the weight of Dom’s stare, heavy and judging. And that was a challenge
Jesse couldn’t ignore.
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine.” Jesse sat back heavily. “Just fine.” His pulse picked up, his blood
coursing through his body. Pooling between his legs.
Nate waved. “Thanks for the drinks.”
Dom waved back. “Thanks for always being the designated driver.”
Nate only smiled, ushering Alec off.
It was only after they’d disappeared through the door, that Jesse growled, “I’ll pay for
the drinks.”
Dom met his stare. Electricity jolted through Jesse’s veins.
“You wouldn’t be sober enough to remember that,” Dom said, waving the waiter over.
He placed another order. This time, it was for a shot of whiskey.
The challenge in his eyes—Jesse knew this game. He asked for the same.
When the drinks arrived, Jesse downed his shot first. The whiskey burned all the way
down his throat, making him cough and his eyes water. How the hell did Dom drink
this stuff?
Dom smirked, tipping his shot back slowly, in the most aggravating way. Then he
called the waiter over for another two shots. Jesse asked for two, just to match him.
Dom’s smile grew. “Gonna regret this, Sinclair.”
Jesse flipped him off. “You’re gonna regret it.”
There were more things he wanted to say. So much more. Lately, Jesse had been
shouldering past Dom while they were both on duty. Dom had noticed—and he hadn’t
even called Jesse out on it. He’d just given Jesse a look, and Jesse hadn’t understood
what the hell that meant.
All he knew was that he wanted to pin Dom down, punch him, and maybe shove their
cocks together just to prove that he wasn’t the only one who had gotten hard when
they’d done that.
He still remembered that morning in the locker room. The way Dom had ground their
dicks together, right after he’d promised Jesse a thorough fucking.
When the next order arrived, Jesse downed both shots. His throat burned.
Dom raised an eyebrow. “Reckless,” he murmured.
That voice raked down Jesse’s spine and went into his balls, pulling them tight.
Yeah, the idea of punching Dom seemed to get better by the second.
Dom savored his shots. Then, he called for the bill.
“We aren’t done yet,” Jesse hissed, reaching for his wallet.
Somehow, that bastard was faster. He was handing the waiter his credit card, waving
him off. Jesse growled, his muscles tensing. There had to be something he was better at.
“Let’s chat outside,” Dom rumbled.
Jesse’s pants grew tight. Yeah, they’d chat. With their fists. And maybe other body
parts, too.
The waiter returned with the receipt; Dom signed it with a surprisingly steady hand.
Then he rose to his feet and turned, and Jesse couldn’t help noticing the curve of Dom’s
ass, the way his pants hugged that solid muscle.
All he could smell was blackwood, and musk.
They were in a back alley somewhere behind the bar, when Jesse lunged at the bastard,
shoving him against the wall. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” Dom smiled, his teeth sharp. “Prove it, Sinclair.”
And he threw the first punch.
Pain burst through Jesse’s jaw—more of an insult than injury. He roared, grabbing
Dom’s collar, swinging his fist.
Dom sidestepped that blow; Jesse lunged after him. The man grabbed Jesse’s fist,
shoving him back against the brick.
Then Dom pressed their bodies together, a hot rush of friction. Jesse’s cock jerked
behind his pants. He shoved Dom off, furious at himself. “What the fuck?”
Dom’s smile was amused this time. “Are you using fucking as a threat, again?”
“Hell yeah, I am,” Jesse snapped, riding the wave of anger that swelled in his chest,
because it was easier than understanding the throb between his legs. “Fuck you.”
Before Jesse could react, Dom gripped his arm and spun him around, shoving his chest
against the wall. The rough brick scraped Jesse’s jaw. “You’re forgetting something.”
And Dom stepped up behind Jesse, thrusting his hips hard against Jesse’s ass. A thick,
obvious bulge ground against him. If they hadn’t been dressed, Dom’s cock would’ve
wedged between Jesse’s cheeks, right against his hole.
That thing inside Jesse, the thing that had been slumbering—it jolted wide awake. And a
surge of something feral clawed through his veins, squeezing his hole tight in a way
that said, Consume me.
He suppressed that desire, throwing Dom off his back. “No fucking way.” Jesse lunged
at Dom, grabbing his collar, slamming him back into the wall. “You don’t own me,”
Jesse hissed.
And he shoved their bulges together, so hard that pleasure thrummed through his
veins.
Dom sucked in a sharp breath. Jesse wasn’t sure if it was the light, or something else,
that made Dom’s pupils dilate. But Dom smiled, confident in a way that lit Jesse’s
nerves ablaze.
Dom flipped them around; the brick thumped against Jesse’s shoulders. “Think again
before you threaten me,” Dom growled, whiskey on his breath, his eyes gleaming in the
low light. “Or is this what you’re after?”
Then he pinned Jesse with his entire body, chest to chest, hip to hip, his warmth
bleeding through Jesse’s clothes. And he pushed their cocks together in a hard, sweet
grind. Bliss shot down Jesse’s veins.
That bastard had no right to make him feel this good.
Even if Jesse wanted to drive Dom over the edge. Just so he knew he had something
over that man.
“Fuck you,” Jesse hissed.
Dom gave a sharp smile. “Yeah? You think you can?”
“I damn well know I will.”
“Let’s see it,” Dom rasped. And he leaned in, crushing their mouths together in a hot
slide of damp skin.
Electricity ripped through Jesse’s body, all the way to his toes. What the fuck? He opened
his mouth to swear, but Dom’s tongue swept into him, a damp, demanding presence
that sent blood surging into Jesse’s cock.
Jesse snarled and shoved his tongue into Dom’s mouth. He tasted whiskey, and a faint
hint of lemon. Dom’s answering groan raked down Jesse’s spine. Their tongues slid
together, wrestling for control. This was far too fucking intimate.
Can’t let him have the upper hand. He grasped Dom’s hips and barreled against him,
slamming Dom into the opposite wall.
Surprise flickered through Dom’s eyes; victory roared in Jesse’s chest.
Then he ground his entire body against Dom’s front, biting down hard on Dom’s lower
lip, just to prove that he was in control. Just to show that he could kiss, too.
“Inexperienced,” Dom murmured.
Uncertainty crept through Jesse’s chest. He pushed away that feeling, hesitating. If he
kissed Dom again, what other inadequacies would Dom discover?
Dom snatched that chance to pummel Jesse back against the alley wall. And he tipped
Jesse’s face up with a callused hand, sliding their mouths together, skin on damp skin.
In another world, this would be how a perfect kiss went. Dom’s breath soughed against
Jesse’s cheek, his tongue flicking against Jesse’s lips, sliding inside him in a slow, sweet
thrust—an imitation of romance.
Jesse pushed Dom out with his tongue, but the touch of soft muscle—vulnerable against
his own—kindled an urgent need in his gut.
Scarcely had that happened, when Dom rocked their hips together, a forceful thrust that
made Jesse pulse so hard, he saw stars.
“Why do you smell so fucking sweet?” Dom rasped against his mouth. “Why the hell
do I keep smelling you?”
He sounded pissed about that. Somehow, without knowing it, Jesse had gotten under
his skin. This wasn’t just a one-way thing.
Dom was hard. Because of Jesse.
Jesse wanted the power to make him come.
He reached down between them, grasping Dom through his pants. I’m touching Dom’s
cock. Dom was thick behind the denim, growing bigger with every second Jesse held on.
As though he liked Jesse’s touch. Jesse’s hole squeezed; warmth filled his insides.
“Fuck,” Dom rasped, rutting so forcefully against Jesse’s hand that the thing inside him
jolted. Deep down, he knew where he wanted that cock. He refused to acknowledge it.
“You won’t put this inside me,” Jesse growled.
“Yeah? Then why do you—” Dom anchored Jesse’s palm down and bucked against it,
his voice husky and raw “—why do you gasp when I fuck your hand?”
Jesse stifled his groan. Dom knocked his hand aside, grinding their hips together so
hard that Jesse’s cock throbbed, leaking inside his pants.
Jesse needed. He hated that he was doing this with Dom, but his hips were bucking, his
throat dry. More than that, he needed to know he could make Dom come. He wanted to
know that he could control himself, that he could hold back. That he wasn’t as weak.
Except Dom’s eyes gleamed; he wanted to prove the exact opposite.
Dom hauled their hips together and thrust, and Jesse’s balls writhed, obeying Dom. He
was approaching the edge, and he couldn’t even hold back.

“Really?” Dom reached behind Jesse, grasping his ass. His fingers pushed down Jesse’s
covered crack, all the way down to where Jesse’s hole was, layers of clothes separating
them. “When I fuck you, Sinclair, you’ll feel it here first.” He tapped hard against Jesse’s
hole. “You’ll open around my cock and take every fucking inch, and you’re gonna howl
when I drive into you. Over and over.” He ground his hungry bulge against Jesse, so
pleasure razed down Jesse’s spine. “You’re gonna beg me for more. And I’m gonna
pump you full of my come.”
The mental image scorched into Jesse’s mind, making him so hard, he almost split his
pants. He couldn’t stop panting. Couldn’t stop his climb to the edge.
Worse, he could almost feel Dom inside him, Dom plowing through his body like he
owned Jesse.
He was running out of options. He couldn’t stop himself from crashing.
The only other choice was to bring Dom down with him.
But how? Jesse scrambled for words, his head fuzzy. Their cocks rubbed back and forth,
the most intimate parts of their bodies touching.
Can’t say I’ll fuck him. He’ll turn my words on me. But Jesse had the option of submitting.
That was what Dom wanted, wasn’t it? That would make him come.
The words crowded onto Jesse’s tongue before he could think. “You’ll like it when you
fuck my ass,” Jesse hissed against Dom’s mouth, biting so hard on Dom’s lip that a
metallic tang burst across his tongue. He’d made Dom bleed. “No one’s been there
before.”
Dom’s thrusts stuttered; he tensed against Jesse, his musk rolling thick off his skin. He
liked that thought.
Shame whispered at the back of Jesse’s mind. This was him submitting to Dom. But
Jesse wanted to rip Dom’s control away, more than he cared about what Dom thought
of him right now. As long as I don’t actually submit. I have that power.
“My hole’s so tight, it’ll squeeze your cock off,” Jesse growled.
“Yeah?” Dom shuddered, his eyes flashing, his fingers digging into Jesse’s jeans, right
up against his hole. As though he wanted to sink his fingers inside, and open Jesse. Prep
Jesse for his cock.
Jesse’s entire body burned so hot, he couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Assuming—Assuming I let you fuck me,” Jesse breathed, rutting hard against Dom’s
hips. “You think you can make me come?”
Dom’s gaze sharpened, hunger blowing his pupils so wide, his irises were a thin ring of
copper. “I’ll bury my cock so deep inside, it’ll ruin your hole for anyone else.”
Jesse almost came right there. Almost. He held his breath and pulled his hips back, but
Dom shoved him up against the wall, cramming their cocks together.
Jolts of sensation clawed into Jesse. He swore and wrecked his mind. He couldn’t come
yet. He needed to make Dom come first. He needed to rip Dom’s control away.
Dom’s breathing had grown ragged, his thrusts coming fast and uneven. “I-I’ll take
your come,” Jesse hissed, telling himself it wouldn’t happen. But the thought made his
cock so hard, it ached. “I’ll take every s-single drop, and I’ll th-thank you for it.”
“Fuck.” Dom roared and shoved their cocks together, a sweet, sinful thrust that went
right down to Jesse’s balls.
Pleasure ripped through him like a blaze, punching the breath out of his lungs. Jesse
arched as he came, shooting all over inside his pants, his vision going dark as his eyes
rolled up into his head.
Dom pinned him against the wall, his breaths hot and ragged on Jesse’s lips, his face
scrunched with pleasure.
In the silence that followed, the sheer magnitude of what they’d done filtered through
Jesse’s thoughts.
Dom was his deputy.
Dom was his enemy.
And they’d rubbed their cocks against each other, they’d come together in a shadowy
back alley like they’d had some forbidden tryst.
Jesse had offered to take Dom’s cock. And Dom had touched where his hole was, he’d
offered to give Jesse the fucking of a lifetime.
What the hell have I done? Disgusted with himself, he shoved Dom away, stumbling as he
tried to leave the alley. He needed to get home. He didn’t know how he was going to
face Dom when they showed up for duty the day after.
His legs felt like they’d lost their bones. His head was fuzzy. As much as Jesse tried to
walk straight, he couldn’t. He tasted whiskey, and a hint of lemon on his tongue. From
a whiskey sour he’d been staring at the whole night.
Dom’s kiss shouldn’t have made him so damn hot. Even now, Jesse’s lips tingled with
the memory of it.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Jesse ignored that man and kept walking, weaving
through the parking lot behind the bar.
Dom grabbed his arm. “You’re not riding home.”
Jesse jerked away from him. “I wasn’t gonna.”
But Dom grabbed him again, his jaw set. When Jesse yanked on his arm this time, Dom
didn’t let go. Instead, he hauled Jesse to the line of cabs waiting outside the bar.
“I can do this by myself,” Jesse snapped.
Dom opened the back door of a cab and shoved Jesse in. Then he pulled out his wallet
and threw some notes at the driver. “Take him home. Keep the change.”
Was Dom treating him like— “Fuck you,” Jesse hissed. “I’m not an omega.”
Dom’s eyes flashed. “You sure smell like one.”
How was Jesse supposed to answer him? That he hadn’t always smelled like cinnamon,
until the Facility happened?
Dom slammed the car door shut. Jesse had been lucky he’d seen it coming, or it’d have
sent him into another panic attack.
Then he hated himself for freaking out over stupid small things like that, he hated that
he wore the scars of his past on his skin. That he smelled so differently from everyone
else.
Not for the first time, Jesse wished he could be a normal person, and blend in with
everyone else. So people would stop staring at him in fear. So people would stop asking
him questions.
So he could stop being so jumpy, and maybe Dom would respect him more.
In the end, it kept boiling down to Dom, and those copper-brown eyes judging him.
“Where you headed?” the cab driver asked.
Jesse only wished he knew.

“Y OU ’ RE EARLY TODAY ,” Harris said when Dom stepped into the station kitchen.
Dom poured himself some coffee—black, with no cream or sugar. Then he took a seat
across from Harris, who was going through some reports from Team C. “I’m always
early.”
“Yeah, but an hour early? You’d much rather be working out at the gym.”
Yeah, well. Dom had spent the last two hours at the gym, and he was tired of the
thoughts bouncing around in his head. “Been there, done that.”
Harris glanced up, eyebrow raised. “That’s not like you.”
Dom breathed out the frustration in his chest. Understatement of the year. “Really?”
Harris finished reading the last of his reports, before setting them down to look Dom in
the eye. “What happened?”
Fucked our subordinate, was what happened, Dom almost said. But he didn’t need Harris
judging him for it, on top of how much crap he was already giving himself.
And it had been as good as fucking. Few things got more intimate than sharing a
breath, pushing your tongue into someone else’s mouth, all while your hard cocks
rubbed together, pleasure jolting up your spine.
When Dom had reached home two nights ago, his come had soaked through his
underwear, his knot heavy as ever. And there had been a trace of cinnamon on his skin.
And he would’ve gone right back to do it all over again.
“It’s complicated,” was what he ended up saying.
Harris glanced at the wall clock. “Hit me with it. We’ve got time.”
Dom didn’t want to. He already risked changing their team dynamics, without Harris
somehow making it worse. “Fucked up on something. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Harris’ eyebrows rose further. “You? Fucking up?”
What had possessed him to kiss Sinclair, Dom had no idea. Except it had been the most
electrifying kiss he’d had in a while, with lips and teeth and tongue. And he could still
taste the hint of a white Russian in his mouth. An alpha shouldn’t taste that good.
“Change of topic.”
“Sure. How was bar night?”
Something must’ve shown on his face, because Harris leaned in. “They’re related, aren’t
they?” Harris asked shrewdly.
Sometimes, Dom wished his captain wasn’t so sharp. He sighed. “Tell me about you
and Valen. How’d you even start dating him?”
Valen was the C Team captain, an alpha roughly twenty years younger than Harris.
Dom had attended their wedding some years back. At that point, he’d thought that
having a taste for alphas was an odd quirk of Harris’, and nothing more.
Harris smiled wryly. “We started off by fighting.”
Damn it. Dom winced. “That’s it? Fighting ends up with you getting married?”
Harris glanced around, to make sure no one was within earshot. Then he dropped his
voice. “Yeah. We were fighting in the locker room and things went sideways.”
Dom rubbed his face. This did not sound good. Because that was exactly what had
happened in that back alley with Sinclair. Just because it happened to Harris, doesn’t mean
it’s going to happen to you.
“I see,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of bitter coffee.
“So, you fought with someone?” Harris asked, his eyes betraying the question he didn’t
voice: Is there someone you’re interested in?
Dom breathed out. “It was inconsequential.”
Definitely the understatement of the century.
“Should I reshuffle the roster?” Harris asked.
“Gods, no.” Dom scowled. “I can deal with it.”
Harris watched him, as though he was mentally checking off the alphas on their team,
trying to figure out who Dom had butted heads with. “This doesn’t have to do with our
disagreement, does it?” Harris asked casually, rising to refill his mug. “Two years back,
on the new hire.”
Dom kept his swearing to himself. In all their years of being captain and deputy, they’d
only disagreed on team additions once. “Like I said, it’s minor. Nothing you need to
bother with.”
Harris looked at him askance. Dom focused on his coffee.
They passed the next half hour in silence, Dom filling his mind with the familiar sounds
of the station—trucks pulling in and out, alarms sounding, voices ringing through the
garage.
York showed up, slinging his arm around Alec’s neck. Brad and Nate chatted on their
way to the locker room. Gareth arrived smelling like an omega, looking a lot happier
than he’d been in years. Good for him.
Dom was about to leave the kitchen to do something productive, when Sinclair stepped
through the doorway and froze.
Cinnamon wafted through the air. Dom remembered the sound of Sinclair’s groan
against his lips, he remembered Sinclair shaking so hard with the force of his climax
that, if Dom had released him, Sinclair might’ve fallen onto the ground.
That memory made Dom’s throat go dry.
Their gazes met. Sinclair narrowed his eyes, but a light flush crept up his throat. Was
he... embarrassed?
The last time Dom had seen him, Sinclair had been furious. But Dom’s conscience
wouldn’t allow him to leave anyone to fend for themselves. Especially someone he’d
shared an intimate moment with.
Maybe Dom shouldn’t have coddled him—that was what he would’ve done for an
omega. Sinclair wasn’t one.
But it had felt right, damn it.
Dom really, really hated the little voice that told him to protect Jesse Sinclair.
He brought his mug to the sink, rinsing it. Somewhere behind, Harris said, “Oh, Jesse.
Didn’t hear you step in. You haven’t had breakfast?”
“No,” Sinclair rumbled. A paper bag rustled. He drew something out of there, the foil
crinkling as he folded it back from his food.
“That looks tasty,” Harris said.
“I got it from downtown. Cheese, sausage, and scrambled egg.”

Dom put his mug away, turning. All he’d intended was to say hi to Sinclair like a
regular deputy should. Then he would head into the garage.
Except Sinclair had wrapped his lips around a burrito that was—hell, it was roughly the
size of Dom’s cock.
Dom met his eyes, his greeting lodged in his throat. So he looked back at the burrito.
No, bad move. He didn’t need to picture Sinclair sucking him off.
Except the same thought seemed to have crossed Sinclair’s mind. He unwrapped his
mouth from that blunt length, leaving it glistening.
Then he met Dom’s stare, his jaw set in a defiant jut.
A thought flashed through Dom’s mind—what it would feel like to rub himself all over
Sinclair’s face? To shove his bulge against Sinclair’s lips, and make him submit?
Desire coursed through his veins; his body remembered that night.
Ever so deliberately, Sinclair opened his mouth, biting all the way through the burrito.
Then he chewed on it, and swallowed.
Dom’s balls tightened. Maybe that had been a threat, but his body didn’t care.
To the side, Harris coughed like he was trying to stifle a laugh.
Damn it! Dom glared at his old friend. Harris only gave him a knowing look in return.
We’re not recruiting a lover for you, Harris had said back then. Look how that had turned
out.
Before Dom could say a word, Valen poked his head into the kitchen. “Is Harris in here?
Oh!”
Valen grinned and hurried around Dom, making a beeline for the A Team captain. Then
he caught Harris in a quick kiss, squeezing his ass. “I’m stepping down from station
duties,” Valen said against Harris’ lips. “I love that this is our handover ritual.”
Harris laughed. “You just grabbed my ass. That’s a handover?”
Valen smiled. “What, should I call it a handshake?”
He grabbed Harris’ ass and tried to shake it. Dom rolled his eyes. “Gods, Valen,” Dom
muttered. “Don’t do that in public.”
They’d been teammates years back, before Valen had transferred to the C Team—really
so Valen and Harris could take turns spending time with their family.
Valen only grinned, kissing Harris again. “I’m just giving my alpha something to look
forward to when he gets home.”
“Any more of that, and my teeth will rot,” Dom answered.
When he glanced away, he found Sinclair still watching Valen and Harris, an odd look
on his face.
Sinclair had witnessed the intimacy of their team captains—he’d been with the station
for a couple years. But this was the first time Dom was seeing his reaction to it. Was
that... wistfulness? Or disbelief?
Sinclair tore his gaze away, meeting Dom’s stare. Then he dropped his attention to his
burrito, biting furiously into it.
Everything that Harris and Valen were—Dom and Sinclair were not.
And Dom felt it, suddenly, the joy on the other end of the kitchen. The joy that neither
Sinclair nor himself had. The joy that he wouldn’t allow himself to have, because it put
his heart at so much risk.
When he met Sinclair’s eyes again, he found curiosity there. Wariness. As though
Sinclair was wondering about the two of them.
That’s never going to happen.
Dom stepped out of the kitchen, his pulse thudding too hard.
A S THE HIGHER POWERS WOULD HAVE IT , Jesse was stuck alone with Dom on this call.
It usually didn’t happen. Most calls, there was at least one other firefighter with them,
or Jesse would be with Harris instead. But right now, Harris and Gareth were leading
two other calls, and the team had been stretched thin.
“I didn’t think we had to rescue cats from trees,” Jesse muttered, driving the truck
down the narrow street.
Dom shrugged and flipped through the call details on his tablet. “It’s a service we
provide.”
Jesse bit down his inappropriate remarks about ‘services’. Especially between the two of
them.
He’d been on calls with Dom before. This one would be no different. Except it also was,
because neither of them was acknowledging the most recent bar night. The one where
they’d both creamed their pants. And Dom had sent Jesse home.
Since that night, he’d cooled off and thought about it. Dom shoving him into the cab,
paying for the ride. Jesse had been honest with himself, and he’d admitted that no one
had done that for him before. If it had been an omega paying, Jesse would’ve refused.
But an alpha... maybe he could let it slide.
It doesn’t even count anyway. That bastard was drunk.
He shoved that thought aside, pulling up in front of their destination. Jesse didn’t even
have to double-check the house number—they’d been here a number of times before.
For the exact same reason.
Dom sighed, climbing out of the truck. Jesse grabbed the ladder and followed him to
the door.
Mrs. Mulberry greeted them, all delighted when she caught sight of Dom. “Oh, thank
you for coming, dearie,” she gushed, ushering them into her yard. “Milly has been
stuck in the tree for ages. She’s so scared!”
From her perch in the tree, the tabby cat sent them an unimpressed look. Jesse felt the
exact same way.
“Jesse will get her down,” Dom said.

Funny how Dom used his name when they were in public. Back in the alley, Dom had
called Jesse by his last name—only then had Jesse realized exactly how Dom regarded
him.
Mulberry frowned. “Oh? Won’t you be the one getting her down instead?”
Dom shrugged. “Jesse has the same qualifications as I do.”
Mulberry looked uncertainly at Jesse; she’d always avoided engaging him in

conversation.
He gave her a nod, setting the ladder up against the tree branch. He didn’t mention the
fresh ladder marks in the ground—probably from just a few minutes ago.
Carefully, he climbed the ladder. Milly never seemed to mind the various firefighters
rescuing her, but Jesse was wary anyway. A cat had scratched him when he was a child.
He held his hands out to the tabby, half-expecting her to reach out and sink her claws
into his fingers. But she stared placidly at him, even as he gently scooped her off the
branch.
Jesse made sure she was tucked safely against himself, before descending the ladder.
Once he was on the ground, he held the cat out to Mrs. Mulberry.
Mulberry took her cat back, being very careful not to touch his hands. “Ah, thank you,”
she said awkwardly. Her gaze drifted over the silvery scars on Jesse’s arms, lingering
on the round beads implanted just beneath his skin.
“What are those?” she asked.
They were little things half the size of his pinky nail, but they bulged out enough that
they cast shadows across his skin, making them appear larger than they actually were.
If he was being honest, Jesse had completely no idea what purpose those beads served.
Rutherford had checked for them every time. After Jesse had been freed from the
Facility, a government doctor had tried to explain. Jesse had walked right out, ignoring
the stacks of files on the doctor’s desk.
He didn’t want to know what Larson had done to him. He wanted a new beginning.
“They’re beads,” he said to Mulberry.
Mulberry frowned. She was a retired elementary school teacher, if Jesse remembered
right. “What are they for?”
He shrugged, feeling Dom’s stare on his skin. Probably judging him again.
“Are you a gangster?” Mulberry asked next, looking horrified.
Jesse was about to answer, when Dom cut in. “No,” Dom said. “Our team wouldn’t
have welcomed him if he were.”
Welcomed? That was the last word Jesse expected him to use. He stared at Dom in
surprise, trying to understand. Dom didn’t have to come to his rescue; Jesse had
handled similar remarks over the past few years.
Hell, Dom didn’t even know the details about Jesse’s past. For all he knew, Jesse could
really have been a gangster. Nate had mentioned that Gareth and Harris had asked for
details about Jesse, but that Dom had never approached him at all.
For Dom to step in... Did he think Mulberry wouldn’t believe Jesse?
“Will that be all?” Dom asked her.
She smiled brightly again, gushing when he got her to sign on the call tablet.
It was only when they were back in the truck, that Dom asked, “So, what’re they really
for?”
Jesse’s skin prickled under his attention. Not for the first time, he wanted to scratch
those beads out of his arms. So Dom wouldn’t keep staring at them like that.
The doctor in Highton had said, Don’t remove them.
Jesse rubbed his callused hands down his arms, the beads pressing indents into his skin.
“Don’t know.”
Dom furrowed his brow. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“How the hell do you keep things in your body that you don’t know about?” Dom
looked incredulous. “Didn’t you do that to yourself?”
Anger surged through Jesse’s chest. “Must be nice to have control over your body,
huh?”
For once, Dom had nothing to say to that. And his silence filled Jesse with recklessness.
“You ever stopped to think,” Jesse growled, “that there’s people out there who’ve been
trapped against their own will, being cut open because someone else thinks it’s fun?”
Dom blinked. Then he glanced at Jesse’s head, where the most obvious scars were. He
looked at Jesse’s face, with the blotchy skin and silvery lines, and the puckered
blemishes riding down Jesse’s jaw.
Vaguely, Jesse knew that the moment Dom understood his outburst, it would also mean
that Dom would understand Jesse had been powerless. Less.
He refused to let it humiliate him. Not right now. Because Dom had been judging him
for three entire years. That bastard had no idea what it was like to dread every time the
door slammed open, because Larson would be there with his people and their tranq
guns, ready to take Jesse down for another experiment.
“You’ve never been strapped down,” Jesse hissed, leaning over the space between their
seats, pressing their faces so close that Dom’s eyes blurred into a mess of copper.
“You’ve never been stabbed over and over with different poisons just to see if you’ve
built up a tolerance for them. You’ve never been paraded around to see if someone will
bid high enough for your body this time. You’ve never been someone else’s fucking
property, Dom, so don’t you dare tell me what to do with my body.”
Jesse realized how close he’d gotten to Dom. How hot Dom burned against him. Then
he realized how much ammunition he’d also given that bastard. All handy bullets to
shoot him down with.
He sat back heavily in his seat, breathing hard, trying to calm down. Back to the station.
Maybe the other guys would be there. And he wouldn’t have to see Dom judging him
anymore.
“Sinclair,” Dom began.
“I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry, or some stupid crap like that,” Jesse snapped.
“It’s over. I don’t care.”
Dom reached over and grasped Jesse’s wrist, a warm weight on his skin.
For a second, Jesse tensed, surprised at the touch. He stared at the dashboard of the
truck, listening to the quiet hum of the engine.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re not a psycho.”
Jesse swallowed. Then he turned to look at Dom, half-expecting to see pity, or

arrogance, or whatever.
But Dom’s gaze was even, and there wasn’t an ounce of judgment on his face. Just... a
pensive look. Maybe regret. “I didn’t know about the beads,” Dom said quietly. “I
won’t mention them again.”
“But you’ll still look at them like they’re some kind of alien eggs,” Jesse muttered. “You
know what, lemme just get them out—” He fished around in his pocket for a utility
knife, sliding its blade out.
Dom swore and retracted the knife, pushing it back into Jesse’s pants. “No. That wasn’t
what I was asking. Don’t fucking do that.”
“Why the hell not?” Jesse bristled. “My body, Dom, not yours.”
“I don’t want you to fucking hurt yourself.” Dom’s eyes flashed. “Don’t ever do that.”
“What, so you’re the boss of me, now?” Jesse seethed.
“Yeah, I’m your boss, and I’m going to tell you exactly what to do.” Dom reached into
Jesse’s pocket, pulling out the utility knife. Then he set that on the other side of the
truck cabin.
“It’s not like I can’t find other tools,” Jesse muttered. “Hell, I can even pick up a
corkscrew—”
“Do you not understand what I’m trying to say?” Dom hissed, scowling. “Or do you
just want to be punished?”
Jesse froze, his thoughts crashing into each other like cars in a multi-vehicle pileup.
He’d had plenty of punishments back at the Facility. But Dom’s punishments... Jesse
remembered two nights ago, and the drunken kiss in the shadows.
“What kind of punishments are we talking?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry.
Dom raised an eyebrow, one corner of his lips pulling into a slow smirk. “We’re going
that route, huh?”
“I didn’t agree.” But that dark thrill was back, the same urge that had hissed through
his veins when Dom had threatened to fuck him.
Dom caught his chin roughly, turning Jesse to face him. Their eyes met; Dom’s gaze
dipped down to Jesse’s mouth. His stare roved from one corner of Jesse’s lips to the
other, and hunger flickered through his eyes. As though he was thinking about tasting
Jesse, dipping into his mouth.
For a second, Jesse thought Dom might kiss him. But they were out in the open, in
broad daylight, and neither of them were drunk.
He couldn’t fight the disappointment in his chest. Why would I even want his kiss?
Except it seemed like such a good idea to get drunk on that pleasure. Especially when
Dom said nothing of Jesse’s time in captivity. Like maybe he didn’t care about it. Maybe
Jesse’s outburst had made Dom stop judging him.
Dom leaned in, so close that his breath fell heavy on Jesse’s mouth. For an intense
moment, Jesse only saw the copper-brown of Dom’s eyes, and he only felt the swell of
heat from Dom’s body. He smelled the thrilling blackwood scent that washed over him,
and he wanted it on his skin.
It was wrong. But he could suddenly imagine this alpha as his alpha, and it unnerved
him, at the same time he was curious how that would turn out.
Then Dom leaned away, releasing Jesse. He blew out a breath. “Head back to the
station, Jesse.”
That felt like a punch in the face. Since when have you wanted him to call you Sinclair? Jesse
reeled, trying to come to terms with the jumble of emotions in his chest. Stop letting it
affect you. Don’t give him that kind of power.
He didn’t need anyone else having power over him.
Jesse ignored his too-tight pants, trying to focus on the truck. On getting them back to
the station.
He’s just messing with your head. Get over it.
There were alphas in the world, like Harris and Valen, who found each other. Then
there were alphas like Jesse and Dom, who didn’t. Why was the voice in Jesse’s chest
telling them they could?
J ESSE WASN ’ T sure what he’d expected to happen during the next bar night, but it
certainly wasn’t for Dom to leave the party first.
Dom paid the bill, telling them that the rest of their drinks would be on him, too. Then
he’d left without a second glance, and the anticipation that had been building all night
in Jesse’s stomach just... deflated.
The bar night after that, Dom pulled the same crap.
On the third bar night, Jesse stalked after him out the back door, grabbing his arm. Then
he swung Dom around, glowering. “Why the fuck are you doing this?”
Dom narrowed his eyes. “Doing what? Going home?”
For all that Jesse had been prepared to confront him, he hadn’t thought of what he’d say
when he did. Because there wasn’t anything he wanted to acknowledge. All he wanted
was another drunken fight, another drunken rut in the back alley, so they could both
pretend it didn’t happen.
He gritted his teeth, gesturing vaguely. “This.”
Dom seemed to understand, though, because his entire body tensed. And he grasped
Jesse’s collar, shoving him roughly against the wall. Jesse’s blood surged south.
“What,” Dom whispered, leaning in so their chests brushed and his breath feathered
over Jesse’s ear. “Did you think I’d treat you to more whiskey shots?”
“Yes,” Jesse retorted. “What’re you afraid of?”
Dom’s throat worked, but he didn’t answer. He was afraid of something, then.
The small wound on Dom’s lip had healed by now—Jesse itched to put another on him.
He wanted to bite Dom, to leave his mark on that alpha’s skin.
On impulse, he grabbed Dom’s arms and turned his head, his mouth grazing the
stubble on Dom’s jaw. For an instant, Jesse’s mouth brushed the corner of Dom’s lips, a
hairsbreadth from a kiss. Dom jerked backward, danger flashing through his eyes. He
slammed Jesse into the brick. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“What, don’t kiss you?” Jesse lifted his chin. “Because you’re afraid to?”
Copper eyes dropped to Jesse’s lips. Dom was contemplating it, then. And he glanced
back up savagely, like the slightest word could set him off. “I’m not making that
mistake again,” Dom muttered.
“Because you’ll want more?” Jesse shoved their chests together, tilting his face up to
whisper in his ear, “Afraid you’ll cream your pants again?”
Dom growled, clenching Jesse’s shirt so tight that the fabric strained. Then Jesse felt it—
the press of a hard line against his hip. Before he could say a word about it, Dom leaned
in, his breath hot on Jesse’s ear. “I’m not afraid of you, Sinclair.”
Then he bit down on Jesse’s earlobe, sharp points of his teeth sinking into Jesse’s skin,
and he took that earring into his mouth.
Dom sucked. Pleasure shot down Jesse’s spine; his hips bucked. All Dom did was circle
Jesse’s earring with his tongue, a warm, damp touch, like he was tasting the parts of
Jesse he let himself have.
Just as suddenly as he’d started that kiss, Dom jerked away, his lips glistening, his eyes
so dark, it dragged an answering jolt of want through Jesse’s gut.
Dom released him entirely, stepping back. Then—of all things—he turned to leave.
After a kiss like that. After he’d gotten hard, just from how close they’d been.
“You want more,” Jesse growled after him.
Dom strode away, not bothering with an answer.
“Coward,” Jesse added.
Dom stiffened, but he kept walking.
Maybe that was it. Maybe all Jesse had to do, was push him hard enough. Then Dom
would take him up on the punishment he’d promised.
Jesse straightened his clothes, stalking back into the bar.
This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
O VER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS , Jesse waited for a chance to confront Dom again. He didn’t
want to do it during bar night or a call, because Dom could avoid him like he was
getting really good at doing.
No, Jesse was looking for a chance where Dom couldn’t leave so easily. That chance
presented itself one morning, while they were at a grocery store getting food for their
next meal.
There were four of them on this trip—Jesse, Alec, Gareth, and Dom. On the way into the
store, Gareth turned like he’d spotted something. “Catch up with you guys in a bit.”
He strode off quickly. Dom made for the pasta section first—food that wouldn’t spoil in
a basket if they needed to drop it for the next call.
They were almost to the aisle, when Alec said, “Oh, Gareth’s kissing his omega. That’s a
young one, isn’t he? And I thought I was young.”
Jesse couldn’t help looking. As old as all the scarring made him look, he was just
twenty-two. Had Gareth found someone even younger than Jesse?
“C’mon, let’s go rib him,” Alec said, pulling Jesse along. He gave a loud whistle. Jesse
elbowed him; other shoppers had turned to look. But Alec only grinned.
“For gods’ sakes, Alec,” Dom muttered.
Gareth’s boyfriend scrambled away when they approached. He was a thin omega, pale,
a bit uncertain. Maybe he would’ve been Jesse’s type, a long time ago.
A glimmer of color caught his eye. The omega’s nails were a rich, sparkly blue, more
purple than cyan. Something about that nail polish stood out to him—it was a nice
shade. Bright. Almost... pretty.
Alphas shouldn’t think that about nail polish. But Jesse couldn’t help staring at the
man’s nails—it was as though he’d spread minuscule bits of glitter all over them.
“This is Alec, and this is Jesse,” Gareth said. “Guys, this is Flores.”
Jesse blinked. Had he been so distracted by nail polish, that he’d missed the rest of the
introductions?
Flores waved. Like everyone else, his attention fixed onto Jesse. Jesse breathed out,
waiting while Flores gaped at all his scars. Then Flores’ stare landed on the embedded
beads. Jesse almost wished he’d cut them out the other day.
“Do they hurt?” Flores squirmed.
“It’s fine,” Jesse answered. Like he could say anything but.
“Jesse’s a tough nut. Don’t worry,” Gareth said, sliding his arm around Flores in a
casual, intimate way that Jesse wished he could stop looking at. But he couldn’t. What
would that feel like? Having someone to hold, having someone who wouldn’t flinch
when they touched you?
“Okay,” Flores said. “York’s also on your team, right?” He paused. “York’s our—my
neighbor.”
Alec wriggled his eyebrows. “‘Our’?”
Gareth sighed. “Flores and I were neighbors.” So they weren’t neighbors anymore? Had
Flores... moved in with Gareth?
“We really should get going,” Gareth said.
“No kidding,” Alec retorted. “The rest of us don’t get to snog omegas on our grocery
runs.”
The words crowded onto Jesse’s tongue even before he could think. “Harris gets to snog
Valen when we change shifts.”
Then his heart thumped. Dom was very definitely listening. And he knew what Jesse
was talking about.
“They’re married,” Gareth explained to Flores. “Harris has an alpha and an omega.”
So what was Dom so scared of? That the others would judge him? The reckless part of
Jesse grabbed his tongue and said, To hell with this. “Pretty open-minded of them.
Unlike Dom, who seems to really like—”
“We’re getting distracted,” Dom said sharply.
—putting his tongue on my body. Jesse didn’t finish his sentence, but Dom didn’t need
him to.
Dom glared. “Jesse, if you could stop speculating about me—”
Yeah, he’d gotten Dom’s attention, front and center. And Dom was looking straight at
him, those eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously. A thrill shot down Jesse’s spine. “Just
stating a fact,” Jesse retorted. “If you didn’t keep shoving your—”
—dick against mine, and pretending you didn’t, I wouldn’t have to talk about it in front of
everyone else.
“Gareth, if you could join us in fifteen seconds, that’ll be great,” Dom snapped. “Alec,
with me. I’m not spending more time here.” In a kinder tone, he added, “Welcome to
the family, Flores.”
Dom spun around and strode off. Alec’s eyebrows crawled up. “What was that about?”
Alec whispered.
Jesse shrugged, ignoring the prickle of heat on his neck. Alec left to follow Dom. Gareth
looked too shrewdly at Jesse—it felt like he knew. “Things okay between you and Dom,
Jes?”
Jesse shrugged. That would depend on what Gareth meant by ‘okay’. “I guess.”
“You mean, you’re together?” Flores asked. “Like, boyfriends?”
“What?” Why would he even think that? Jesse grimaced. Dom and him? Boyfriends?
“No.”
But what would that feel like? If Dom actually put his arm around Jesse like Gareth did
with his omega? If he didn’t actually mind... touching Jesse? For a long time?
Jesse’s skin prickled with curiosity, and something else he didn’t want to put a name to.
In a roundabout way, Dom had welcomed him to the team. He’d not mentioned the
beads on Jesse’s skin anymore, or even said a word about Jesse’s past. When they were
on duty, he treated Jesse just like everyone else.
So why did Jesse’s stomach flip whenever he saw Dom? Why did he feel that urge to
make Dom look at him? Why did he—whenever Dom was nearby—want to step closer,
just to feel the heat rippling off Dom’s skin?
His mind clouded with too many thoughts, Jesse strode off in the opposite direction,
needing to put some distance between Dom and himself.
“S O , ABOUT J ESSE ,” Gareth said slyly.
Dom was sorely tempted to chuck his wrench at Gareth. “What about him?”
“Nothing.” Gareth leaned against the truck, where Dom was inspecting the fan belt
system. “Harris told me a few interesting things.”
Fuck. Dom closed his eyes, unease creeping through his limbs. Harris, what the hell did
you say? “Is there something I should know?”
“He mentioned you were fighting.” Gareth sipped from his mug. “After one of the bar
nights.”
Harris, you fucker. Dom bit down his swearing, trying to suppress the heat that
threatened to swallow his face. “You’re the nosiest damn person I’ve ever met, Gareth.
Worse than an omega.”
Gareth’s smile grew. “That only means you’ve got something to hide.”
“Go back to your duties,” Dom muttered.
“I will, but after I’ve gotten to the bottom of this.” Gareth glanced around the garage,
then inched closer to Dom so he could drop his voice. “Have you fucked?”
“What the hell,” Dom spluttered.
Gareth kicked Dom’s shoe. “The sooner I’m caught up, the sooner I’ll get back to work,
deputy.”
“Fuck off,” Dom hissed.
“I’ve been putting it off for weeks. So it’s about time you spilled, damn it.” Gareth
kicked him again. “What the hell’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing.”
“That fight at the grocery store ain’t nothing. Sounded like there was some
miscommunication to me. About... ‘shoving’.” Gareth raised his eyebrows.
Dom straightened, the wrench feeling like a pretty solid threat in his palm. Yeah, he’d
fucked up. Had Harris mentioned that, too? “It was just once. A few months back.”
“Oh?” Gareth searched out Sinclair, who was on the other end of the garage, washing
down a truck. “You told him it was a one-off thing? ‘Cuz he seems to think otherwise.”
Dom followed his gaze, finding Sinclair with half his shirt wet, the fabric clinging to his
pecs. It looked good on him. Better than it had any right to be. Dom wondered if
Sinclair would peel his shirt off today, but that alpha rarely did.
As though he felt Dom’s attention, Sinclair looked up. Their eyes met, and exhilaration
sizzled down to Dom’s toes.
Gareth snorted. “Actually, no. This is far from over, isn’t it?”
Dom yanked his stare back to the truck’s engine. “There’s nothing going on in the first
place.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Gareth coughed discreetly. “You look like you’re one
second from turning into a beast and ravaging him.”
Well, Gareth wasn’t wrong about that. Dom had been aching to—that bar night, when
Sinclair had dared to grab Dom. That afternoon in the truck, when Sinclair’s lips had
been just a whisper away from his own. He’d wanted to taste that man. To hear him
groan again.
There were a great many things Dom wanted to do to Jesse Sinclair, and none of them
was a good idea.
“You know about his past?” Dom asked.
Gareth sent him a look. “You think? Have you talked to Nate about him? Because I think
you’re the only one who hasn’t.”
That had alarm bells ringing in Dom’s mind. Bad enough that he knew a little about
Sinclair’s past. Bad enough that he’d been imagining that alpha tied down in some dark
room, being given injections and who the hell knew what else.
Deep down, Dom had figured that the multitude of scars on Sinclair’s body hadn’t all
been self-inflicted. But to know that he’d wanted none of them, to know that an alpha
like that had been tied down against his will—it made a savage voice in him snarl, Don’t
let any more harm come to him.
That was more emotional than Dom allowed himself to be.
Then, he had wondered about the sort of person who had suffered so badly, and who
still kept his head up. The sort of person who climbed up ladders and picked cats off
tree branches, cradling them gently against his body.
In the months since Sinclair’s outburst in the truck, Dom had revisited that conversation
in his mind, he’d looked at Sinclair anew, trying to figure out what sort of man he was.
Sinclair was a lot stronger than Dom had given him credit for—Dom could
acknowledge that now.
And it made his instincts all the more eager to have that alpha in his bed. To see what
sort of creature would fight back against him. Whether Dom would have the upper
hand, or whether he would lose.
He could lose. In bed, that only made the challenge all the more tantalizing.
Would Dom get addicted? He would, wouldn’t he?
“I don’t see why I should talk to Nate about him,” he said.
Gareth sent him a knowing look. “You’re afraid to, aren’t you? ‘Cuz it’s going to change
the way you see him.”
He was right. Dom turned away. “Get back to work.”
Gareth smiled, all satisfied. He clapped Dom on the shoulder. Then he said, “I’m glad I
found Flores, you know. I didn’t think I’d be happy again.”
He’d lost his previous omega, just like Dom had. But just because Gareth was willing to
take a risk with his heart, didn’t mean Dom would do the same.
In a lower voice, Gareth added, “Maybe you should let yourself heal.”
Dom shrugged him off with a scowl. “Seriously, fuck off. I’m done talking.”
“Think about it.” Gareth rolled his eyes, but he was whistling as he walked away.
No, Dom wasn’t going to.
A T THE END of his shift, Dom stepped into the locker room, looking forward to a
shower. It had been a long day. He’d handed over the station duties to Team B, and he
couldn’t wait to get home. Maybe he’d jerk off a couple times.
Earlier, Sinclair had ended up with his entire shirt soaked—Alec had attacked him with
the water hose. Sinclair had pounced on him; it had turned into a friendly brawl with a
lot of yelling. York had joined in, too.
In the end, Dom had gone over to snap at them, and the three of them had looked
sheepish. Two, really. Sinclair had just lifted his chin, peeling off his T-shirt.
Sinclair’s abs had glistened, his pecs and shoulders flexing when he made a show of
wringing the water out of his shirt.
Dom had had to turn away before he popped a hard-on right in front of them.
In all his years, he’d never imagined jerking off to another alpha. And now he couldn’t
get Sinclair out of his head. He’d looked up videos of alpha sex on kink sites, he’d seen
how they’d fought with each other. Naked. And his thoughts had spiraled out of
control.
The moment Dom glanced up in the locker room, he knew he should’ve checked the
vehicles in the parking lot first. Because Sinclair was at his locker, amongst a few other
guys. No others from their team, though. The rest had left for home.
Dom stripped, dropping his uniform in the common use washer. Then he stopped by
his locker for fresh clothes and a towel.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Sinclair turning—Sinclair had noticed Dom’s
presence.
Dom ignored him and headed straight for the shower stalls. All he needed was to wash
off the grime from today, and he’d be out of here.
He hung his things on the wall hooks, reminding himself to discuss shower doors with
the station chief. Was Sinclair self-conscious about showering without a door? It hadn’t
occurred to Dom until now. He felt a bit guilty over it. More so because the four shower
stalls in the locker room faced each other across a central aisle.
He turned the shower on, lathering up with soap. Warm water pattered on his skin;
Dom scrubbed the dried sweat off his scalp.
He caught a movement to the side—someone else had stepped into the cubicle across
the aisle. Someone with blemished shoulders and a cinnamon scent.
Dom’s blood swooped between his legs. Damn it, Sinclair. You were waiting to do this,
weren’t you?
He made himself focus on the tiled walls, he made himself soap up his chest and
shoulders, and down his front. Never mind that he was growing hard, just from the
thought of Sinclair naked a few steps away.
The shower came on in the other stall. The other alphas in the locker room chatted
amongst themselves, paying no mind to Dom and Sinclair back here, just... showering.
Dom glanced over his shoulder. And he found Sinclair facing him, water streaming
down his shaved head, down his pecs and his abs, to the thick cock jutting up at his
hips.
A hot shiver went straight through Dom’s body. He jerked his gaze back up; there was
no way to pretend he hadn’t seen that.
Across the aisle, Sinclair ran his hand down his chest, soap suds sliding down his
scarred skin, from the 301 scar at his shoulder, to the silver line between his abs, to the
other 301 at his hip. And now Dom understood the markings on his skin, he understood
that Sinclair hadn’t consented, either, when he’d been reduced to a number in someone
else’s twisted operations. What else was there about him that Dom didn’t know?
Sinclair wasn’t focused on his past right now, though. Instead, his gaze was locked onto
Dom, his fist sliding down his cock, his balls drawn tight.
Hunger squeezed Dom’s throat. He wanted to see Sinclair come. He wanted to see that
face crumple with bliss. He knew he shouldn’t.
Sinclair raked those blue eyes down Dom, a hungry, heavy touch, and licked his lips.
Dom’s body reacted with a hot ache that grew with each passing second. He held down
his straining cock to keep it out of sight, and turned partway.
Sinclair smirked. “‘Bout time,” he rumbled.
Then he angled his own cock down, just to show Dom its full length, the way it flushed
closer to his tip, and the blunt head that leaked a thin, colorless trail onto the floor.
Sinclair growled, squeezing his fist down his length and back up, his lips parting in
pleasure.
Dom could imagine the bursts of sensations Sinclair gave himself. He fought down the
sudden wild urge to lunge forward, to slam Sinclair against the wall, and grind their
cocks together. He wanted to capture Sinclair’s mouth with his own, he wanted to
pump pleasure into Sinclair, and swallow his moans.
His throat grew dry; he squeezed his cock to stop it from aching so much. Why had he
been holding back? Dom couldn’t remember anymore.
Sinclair’s gaze dropped to Dom’s hips—he was trying to see if he’d gotten Dom hard.
Dom refused to give him the satisfaction of finding out. Instead, he turned back to the
shower, scrubbing suds through his hair. He rolled his shoulders, flexing those muscles
so they pulled taut.
Across the aisle, Sinclair groaned. The sound shot between Dom’s legs like an arrow,
and his blood hummed with need.
He turned back to look. With the shower spray cascading down his chest, Sinclair had
leaned back against the cubicle wall, his hips rolling as he thrust into his fist. In and out,
his blunt head pushing his fist open, pointing at Dom like it was inviting him closer for
a taste.
That was hands-down the most sinful thing Dom had seen all year.
From the satisfied smile on his lips, Sinclair knew it, too.
The alphas in the locker room bantered with each other. Some guys yelled; the door
slammed shut.
The sound was jarring enough that shock jolted through Sinclair’s body, fear flashing
through his face. His eyes shot wide open; his chest heaved.
Dread twisted Dom’s stomach. Not again. He knew he wasn’t always around to catch
Sinclair’s flashbacks—sometimes, Nate dealt with them, or sometimes, one of the other
guys on their team did.
Did any of them react to his fear the way Dom did, though?
Whenever Dom saw Sinclair like this, he couldn’t help thinking, You aren’t going back to
that place. Things are fine now. You’re safe.
Except any time Dom thought about promising things like that, he remembered the
empty house when he’d returned from the morgue, he remembered the horrible silence
of everything. The sinking realization that Mal was gone, and all the plans they’d made
for the future—those were gone, too.
Sinclair glanced warily around—but he wasn’t here anymore. Instead, he brought his
fists up as though someone would attack him, and stepped cautiously toward the aisle.
For an uncomfortable second, Dom thought Sinclair might bolt through the locker
room, and maybe pick a fight with one of the alphas there. Alphas who weren’t on their
team, and who only had vague ideas about Sinclair’s quirks.
He shoved away his thoughts and stepped out of his own stall, crossing into Sinclair’s.
Sinclair tensed and threw a punch—he was fast. Almost faster than Dom. Dom caught
his fist, shoving him back under the shower spray. “It’s me, Sinclair. Wake up.”
But Sinclair lunged—he thought Dom was an attacker. Dom pummeled him into the far
wall, pinning him down. Sinclair thrashed. He wanted to break out of Dom’s grasp; Dom
couldn’t blame him. But he didn’t want to risk Sinclair running out and getting into a
real fight with someone else.
With the sheer amount of muscle on his body, Sinclair almost threw Dom backward.
Dom shoved Sinclair against the wall with his entire body—there was some friction
between his feet and the wet tiles. It could all go wrong, and fast.
“Sinclair,” Dom hissed. “Need you back here.”
A low growl vibrated from Sinclair’s chest into his own. Dom anchored down both of
Sinclair’s wrists. Would a sharp tap to his body help? It seemed like impacts would be a
bad idea, considering where Sinclair had come from. Maybe holding down his fists
actually worsened his fear.
Dom released Sinclair’s hands; Sinclair punched him in the head. Pain throbbed
through his skull. “Damn it, Sinclair. Jesse.”
That seemed to have a slight effect. Sinclair panted, but he calmed a little.
The voices in the locker room distracted him—Sinclair glanced behind Dom, as though
he was prepared to see more alphas joining them.
Something in Dom’s chest said, Protect him.
For once, Dom gave in.
He leaned in close, pressing their foreheads together. “Look at me,” Dom growled. “I’m
the only one you need to focus on. Look at me, Jesse.”
Sinclair struggled, but he looked, his panting hot against Dom’s lips. Dom held his
stare. After long seconds, Sinclair’s gaze focused. He blinked, the fight deflating out of
him.
“You back now?” Dom asked.
Sinclair lowered his fists, raking his eyes down Dom’s face. Dom leaned back slightly so
they weren’t sharing a breath anymore. That felt wrong. It felt like the right thing
would be to press their faces together and nuzzle him. No way in hell I’m doing that.
“Sinclair?” Dom tried again. “You back?”

“Yeah.” Sinclair inhaled shakily, glancing around them as though he was trying to find
his bearings.
“You’re at the station. Locker room.” Dom’s adrenaline faded slightly; only now did he
feel the faint slide of Sinclair’s chest rising and falling against his own. Their bodies
were still pressed flushed together, skin on skin, their cocks touching.
This would be what it’d feel like if they fucked. When they fucked.
Dom’s nerves tingled all over. He just had an episode. Stop thinking about that.
He rolled his weight back onto his heels, just so they weren’t pressed flush anymore.
Except their cocks brushed, half-hard, and pleasure whispered through his body.
Sinclair must’ve felt it too; he glanced down. Then he snapped his eyes back up, really
focusing on Dom.
This time, when Sinclair looked again, his stare raked over Dom’s chest like fingernails
on skin, leaving a trail of warmth all the way down. Dom knew he had to leave. But a
tiny part of him, the part he vehemently ignored, enjoyed Sinclair’s attention far too
much. Let him look, it said. You’ve wanted his eyes on your cock for far too long. Let him suck
you off. Let him beg for it.
Warmth flooded between his legs; his length thickened with interest.
Sinclair breathed in sharply—he knew Dom wanted him.
Dom turned, needing to leave. Except Sinclair grabbed his arm.
“You didn’t have to bring me back,” Sinclair muttered. “Why did you?”
Because you don’t need to be scared around here. Because it’s not something you’d want. There
were so many answers Dom could give, but all of them would reveal too much about
himself.
“Don’t need you freaking out on the other team,” Dom said.
Sinclair released him like he’d been struck. Dom left the cubicle and closed his eyes,
wishing immediately that he hadn’t said it.
But from the way Sinclair didn’t pursue him, it was the right answer to give.
At least, it would save them both from getting involved.

F OR A WHOLE YEAR after that incident, Jesse stopped making moves on Dom.
Dom didn’t want him to; that was easy enough to understand. Jesse sought comfort in
his right hand, and he stopped showing up to bar nights the moment Alec found an
omega. Instead, he settled for sneaking looks at Dom, and getting under his skin.
The one thing Jesse had come to appreciate was that whenever he made Dom angry,
Dom stayed mad for a while. Not just a short moment, but maybe half a day at a time.
That was half a day of him thinking about Jesse, every time Jesse sprinkled some salt
into his coffee.
So on Christmas eve, Jesse thought nothing of it when Gareth hissed, “Psst, Jes!”
Jesse stopped by the kitchen doorway, his ears perked.
Gareth nodded at the mug across the table. “Hurry.”
He shoved the salt shaker at Jesse, keeping an eye on the doorway leading to the locker
room. Jesse sprinkled some salt into Dom’s mug. “How long’s he been gone?”
“Two seconds,” Gareth whispered. “Aw, c’mon. It’s Christmas eve! Do the entire
shaker!”
“He’ll murder me,” Jesse hissed back.
“We’re not witnesses,” Harris rumbled on the other end of the table. “We saw nothing.”
Jesse choked down his laugh, his hands trembling as he unscrewed the shaker. This
wasn’t even the fifth, or tenth time Gareth had called him over to do this. But they did it
infrequently enough that Dom couldn’t judge when his coffee would be salted next. All
because Gareth had caught Jesse doing it the second time—instead of telling on him,
Gareth had smiled with a sort of amusement that Jesse was glad wasn’t directed at
himself.
The silver lid came off the shaker. Jesse was shaking so hard with anticipation that he
almost spilled salt onto the table.
“Easy there, you only have one load,” Gareth said. “Sage advice for all alphas.”
Jesse stifled his laugh, shaking the last of the salt into Dom’s mug. Then he looked
around for a stirrer. Gareth reached out for the empty salt shaker; Jesse handed it to
him. He grabbed a spoon from the cutlery drawer, stuck it into Dom’s mug, and gave it
a quick stir. Good thing salt dissolved so much faster than sugar.
The locker room door squeaked open. Jesse yanked the spoon out of Dom’s mug, wiped
the drip off the table with his hand, and darted out of the kitchen.
Once he was in the garage, he pressed his back against the wall, his heart pounding too
loud for him to focus on anything else.
Footsteps trailed into the kitchen. “Hey,” Gareth said. “You’re back early.”
“What, you thought I’d take ten minutes to grab a folder?” Dom rumbled. Jesse closed
his eyes, just listening to his voice. It always sounded so low and rough, raking down
Jesse’s spine. More suspiciously, Dom said, “Smells like cinnamon in here.”
“Didn’t you see the Christmas cookies?” Gareth asked. “Ben brought some—so much
cinnamon on them. Fresh from Ben’s Buns.”
Jesse held his breath, putting the spoon into his mouth. It was still warm from Dom’s
coffee, but the sheer amount of salt on it made his mouth pucker.
The chair rattled; Dom took a seat. Then he must’ve had some coffee, because the next
sound Jesse heard was the violent spraying of much liquid through the air.
Hopefully Gareth didn’t get a face full of it.
“What the actual fuck,” Dom snapped.
Jesse clapped his hand over his mouth, laughing so hard that his face turned hot. Oh, it
was amazing. And Dom would absolutely murderize him.
Gareth turned his laugh into a cough. “What’s wrong with the coffee?”
There was a pause, as though Dom was looking incredulously at his friend. “What’s
wrong with it? You know what’s fucking wrong with it, Gareth-fucking-Brown!”
“No one was here,” Harris said. “Just the two of us.”
“Not you, too,” Dom hissed.
“Hey, where’re you going?” Gareth asked. “Clean up your damn mess, Dom!”
Footsteps thumped out of the kitchen; Jesse’s heart lodged in his throat. He scrambled.
He thought about ducking behind the trucks, but his footfalls echoed way too loudly
against the concrete floor. So he sprinted out of the building, rounded a corner, and
pressed himself against the wall, trying as hard as he could to stay out of sight.
This wasn’t behavior suited to a firefighter. But Gareth had suggested it, and... it was
Christmas eve. Maybe this could be Jesse’s present to himself. Whatever it turned out to
be.
Dom’s footsteps followed Jesse out of the building. A little too late, Jesse remembered
that Dom could smell him. If he moved now, Dom would hear grass rustle beneath his
feet. So Jesse stayed put.
The footsteps drifted closer, as though Dom was sniffing the air. Jesse held his breath.
He hoped Dom couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart. His hands began to sweat.
Around the building, the grass rustled. Then Dom stepped closer and closer, and it felt
as though he was just one step from rounding the corner, and finding Jesse.
Did he know Jesse was here? Could he smell him?
Grass rustled again. And now Jesse could smell that distinct blackwood scent. Which
meant that Dom could smell him, too.
There was no one else out here, just the two of them separated by the corner of a
building.
Jesse closed his eyes and tipped his face into the sunlight, feeling like one of those
teenagers in the movies, all excited about their first kiss. He’d never had that sort of
chance. He wanted... to be kissed. He imagined Dom stepping up, he imagined their
lips meeting again. Just a chaste touch.
His heart pounded, and he held still, wondering if Dom would judge him if he found
Jesse like that. Just waiting.
Alphas weren’t supposed to want kisses from other alphas. They weren’t supposed to
crave another alpha’s touch, they weren’t supposed to show up early for work, just so
they could breathe in their deputy’s scent.
The grass rustled. One step, then another. Jesse heard it more vividly now—because
they weren’t muffled by a corner anymore.
Dom paused for a moment. Jesse didn’t even dare breathe. He felt Dom’s stare heavy on
his skin, he felt Dom’s sheer presence radiating between them.
Then Dom stepped closer yet, until he was beside Jesse and the sunlight bleeding
through Jesse’s eyelids vanished. Because Dom’s shadow was on him. Dom’s breath
feathered across Jesse’s jaw, his heat burned into Jesse’s arm.
He was so close, that Jesse only had to move to bump into him. But he didn’t want to
shatter the illusion.
What did Dom see, when it was just him and Jesse alone? Was he looking at Jesse’s
mouth? Did he... also want a kiss?
Jesse’s lips parted, tingling with anticipation. Dom sucked in a quick breath.
Just one kiss, Jesse thought. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Dom leaned over him, his coffee-tinted exhale rushing over Jesse’s mouth, an intimate
touch. He was so close that Jesse grew dizzy; all Jesse had to do was tilt his head, and
their lips would meet.
Please, he almost whispered.
Then Dom growled, “Damn you, Sinclair,” and the words vibrated through the tiny
space between their mouths, like the ghost of a touch on Jesse’s lips.
Dom yanked himself away. Cool air rushed between them, shattering the moment. He
strode away the next second, grass rustling beneath his boots.
Jesse tried to fight the wave of disappointment in his chest. When he opened his eyes,
Dom was gone, leaving only his scent behind.
He rubbed his arms to erase the morning’s chill, his palms catching on the beads under
his skin. Would Dom view him any differently, if Jesse had no scars at all?
Looking at them provided him with no new answers. Gradually, he made his way back
into the station, avoiding Dom for as long as he could.
L ATER THAT DAY , chaos descended upon the station. The families of the other alphas
had come to join them, and omegas and children had taken over. York and Alec’s sons
were painting snake stripes onto an old water hose—they picked it up and began
running, and crashed into Jesse.
Jesse wasn’t sure how to respond to them; he always felt awkward around the children
he encountered on calls. The other guys were much better at interacting with kids. Little
wonder, when they had families of their own.
So he grabbed his Santa outfit, heading to the locker room. At least it was quiet in there.
Jesse opened his locker and stared into its shadowy depths, his senses tingling when
Dom walked by. Jesse didn’t even have to look at him—he listened to the thud of
Dom’s footfalls, and the hint of blackwood that had permeated the locker room.
Was Dom still pissed about his coffee? Or was he thinking about that almost-kiss
outside the station?
The one thing Jesse definitely knew, was that Dom wouldn’t speak to him unless he
absolutely had to. So he poked around in his locker, trying to find peace amongst all the
noise. Stuck on the back wall of his locker was a photo of his parents—one he’d stolen
off his dad’s Facebook page.
Jesse still hadn’t been home to visit them. He wasn’t sure what his dad would say about
his scars. He’d wanted to be an alpha his dad was proud of, not someone who had been
trapped and beaten.
Every shift he completed at the station helped a little. It made him feel like he’d
accomplished something with his life.
Vaguely, Jesse heard more voices behind him. Then came a tap on his shoulder that
vaporized the entire locker room.
It felt like he’d been plunged into icy water—he was back at the Facility, closed in by
the too-white walls of his cell. Fear closed his throat.
Jesse spun around, bringing his fists up.
Larson liked to unlock Jesse’s cell door when he was asleep. He liked grabbing Jesse’s
shoulder to shake him awake. Then he’d jab Jesse with a tranq shot into his vein, have
his men shoot more tranq darts, and when Jesse fell, Larson had his men drag Jesse
down to the labs. Where the agony was.
Jesse didn’t want to suffer at his hands again.
Sniffing for that telltale bitterwood scent, he tightened his fists, ready to punch the
nearest person who came close. That man backed away. Good.
Then someone else prowled closer, someone who grabbed Jesse and pinned him against
the wall. Terror shot down his spine.
Jesse punched him, his gut roaring when his fist connected. He wouldn’t let them take
him again, he wouldn’t let them open more holes in his flesh.
Except this man said something. Jesse refused to listen. He shoved at the man, needing
to hurt them all.
The man leaned in close, so close that Jesse saw the whites of his eyes. “Look at me,” the
man said.
Jesse struggled. The man held him down. Jesse thrashed, trying to free himself. He
couldn’t. But there was no pain. The man’s face filled his vision, and all he saw was the
piercing stare of copper-brown eyes. Eyes that felt familiar.
Deep down, Jesse knew that someone with those eyes wouldn’t hurt him.
But how was that possible in a place like the Facility?
He stared deeper into that gaze. At the back of his mind, he remembered a name: Dom.
Jesse blinked, trying to breathe. Those eyes didn’t disappear. And he singled out a
blackwood scent that hadn’t been at the Facility, either.
He blinked again, trying to figure out that stare. Ever so slowly, the white walls faded
away into greens and yellows and browns.
This was not the Facility.
“Okay?” the man asked.
Dom. That was his name.
Jesse crashed back into the present, Dom pressed up against him. The memory of the
last few minutes smudged into a blur. All he could see was Dom, and those full lips just
an inch away from his own. As though... Dom might kiss him.
Jesse’s heart skipped, at the same time he knew Dom wouldn’t. Stop telling yourself he
will. Suddenly frustrated, he shoved Dom aside. “I’m fine.”
Dom turned. “Good.” And he headed for the door.
Dom had been there so many times to pull Jesse out of his flashbacks. But every time,
he left soon after, like Jesse wasn’t good enough or something. Jesse hated that he felt so
disappointed each time, he hated that he knew Dom would much rather be intimate
with anyone, but him.
Because of his jumpiness, because of those beads, because he was alpha.
I hate him, Jesse told himself. But he couldn’t help watching Dom slip through the locker
room door, he couldn’t help admiring the line of Dom’s jaw, the flex of his biceps. His
heart tumbled, and his face warmed.
I barely know him, Jesse thought. Why do I even feel this way?
If he were someone different, if he didn’t have his scars, would Dom look at him a
second time?
If he took the beads away, would Dom get angry enough to punish him?
Jesse rubbed the beads on his arms, his thoughts churning.

S OME WEEKS AFTER C HRISTMAS , donuts began appearing on Jesse’s locker door.
He thought he’d seen wrong at first, when he stepped into work one morning and
found the plastic bag hanging on his locker. It hadn’t even been a shove-and-run
thing—someone had gone to the trouble of sticking a plastic hook on his locker door,
and hanging the bag from it.
Alec seemed puzzled when Jesse asked him, and Gareth wore the oddest look on his
face. Dom didn’t even glance at Jesse once the whole day, so Jesse ate the donut
savagely, thinking maybe one of the other guys had left it.
The next week, another donut appeared. It was strawberry instead of chocolate this
time, which Jesse wasn’t as fond of. So he gave it to York.
“Why are you eating that?” Dom grumbled at York in the kitchen.
York shrugged. “Jesse gave it to me.”
Dom didn’t answer him. Jesse thought maybe Dom was pissed that someone else had
decided to give Jesse donuts.
They couldn’t be from Dom, after all. Dom was an asshole.
There were no donuts for the next two weeks. Then, another chocolate donut showed
up.
Jesse waited for Dom to be present before he bit into the treat. There was only silence,
and the rustling of his donut bag. When Jesse finished, he licked his fingers.
Dom cursed and stalked off.
But another donut showed up the week after. Chocolate again. The following week,
another appeared.
Jesse had taken to eating the donuts in front of Dom, just to spite him. Dom never said a
word each time, but Jesse didn’t need him to.
He’d never managed to discover the identity of his donut-giver, though. For all he
knew, it might’ve been someone from another team. Jesse had visited the bakery they’d
come from, Ben’s Buns, and Ben had refused to divulge his customer’s secret. Jesse had
sniffed at the donut bags, but all he’d smelled was the sweet aroma of the bakery.
With each new donut, his curiosity grew, until he began wondering if his mysterious
donut-giver minded the beads under his skin, too.
The more he thought about it, the more Jesse wished those beads were gone.
Don’t remove them, the medical center doctor had said.
Those words rang in Jesse’s head, an hour before bar night one day.
It was one of those rare occasions that even the married guys attended, so Jesse had no
excuse to sit out. But Dom would be there—Jesse wanted to spite him. Just to see how
Dom would react. Just to see if he would get another moment like that Christmas eve
morning, when Dom had held his face just a hair away from Jesse’s.
He really, really wanted Dom’s breath on his lips again.
Jesse sterilized his arms with some alcohol swabs, cold prickling all over his skin. Then
he disinfected his razor blade, too. The bathroom smelled vaguely like spirits.
With a steady hand, Jesse dragged the blade across the highest point of a bead, splitting
his skin open. It stung a little. Blood welled up along the cut, revealing a small white
sphere hidden beneath. Jesse pressed his nails against the base of the sphere to squeeze
it out.
It clattered onto the counter and rolled away, tinted pink with blood. But there was
nothing else under that bit of skin, so he pushed a threaded needle into his arm, sewing
the incision shut.
He repeated the procedure with each bead, more and more tiny spheres joining the ones
on the counter. Some were white, some were blue, and some were yellow. They’d all
been added on different occasions.
Back at the Facility, Rutherford would sometimes add three beads to Jesse’s arms, and
remove one from the previous week. Jesse had thought they’d made him feel different,
but he couldn’t say for sure what the change was. So he had absolutely no idea what
would happen when every last bead was gone.
Tonight... he felt like taking a gamble.
When he’d painstakingly tied off the last knot and snipped off the surgical thread, Jesse
swept the beads into an empty toothpaste box. He dropped that into a drawer he rarely
used, and closed it.
Then, he inspected himself in the mirror. His arms appeared more even now—no more
beads. Just the grooves and lines of several years’ worth of scars. But this evening...
Jesse had reclaimed a little bit of himself. His heart grew lighter for it.
He wiped the blood off his arms, got dressed, and left for the bar.
It was well past 8PM when he arrived. He grimaced, checked his arms for bleeding, and
headed in.
The team was at their usual table in the corner, their drinks already served. Alec had his
arm slung around York’s shoulders, waving a drink around. Brad was in a discussion
with Nate and Harris, and Gareth seemed to be talking quietly with Dom.
They’d saved a seat for him—between Alec and Nate, thankfully. Jesse joined the table,
flashing a smile at everyone but Dom.
“You’re late,” Alec said. “We’ve been waiting forever.”
Jesse shrugged, trying not to feel Dom’s stare on him. “Got caught up in something.
Sorry.”
“Now that Jesse’s here, let’s get down to the real business,” Gareth said. “Do we want
to vote for Harris as station chief, or not?”
Harris gave Gareth a flat look. “Wasn’t I the one who gets to decide?”
“Nope, we’ll tell you.” Brad grinned cheekily, giving Harris a toast. “Seriously, though,
if you do leave the team, we’re going to miss you.”
“Getting sappy, Brad?” Dom asked.
His voice rumbled into Jesse’s ears; Jesse almost regretted not showing up sooner. So he
could listen to more of Dom.
No, it was a good thing he was late.
“Hey,” Nate murmured, leaning closer. “What happened to those beads?”
Jesse blinked. The incisions were all still stinging slightly, but that was so minor
compared to the pain he’d experienced, that he didn’t particularly care. “I took them
out.”
Nate’s eyebrows crawled up; he glanced over Jesse’s arms. “You consulted anyone
before you did that?”
“No.” Wariness scraped against his senses. Nate looked more concerned than Jesse had
seen him in a while—and that was saying something. Nate was rarely worried about
things; he’d been through a lot of crap in his time before becoming a firefighter.
Hell, Nate was the one who had shot Larson and taken him down.
“I hope you kept them.” Nate’s forehead wrinkled. “That wasn’t a wise move, Jesse.”
Jesse scowled. “It’s my body.”
“Yeah, and I’m trying to stop you from doing something you’ll regret.” Nate met his
eyes. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine.” But now that Jesse was focusing inward, he felt the slightest thrum of heat in his
body—like his temperature might be climbing. “Slightly hot. But I was in a hurry to get
here.”
Nate pursed his lips. “First thing tomorrow, go see a doctor. Okay?”
“If I feel sick,” Jesse said. “Maybe.”
“You’re probably gonna feel really sick. You know what those beads were for.”
No, Jesse didn’t, but he didn’t want to learn about them right now, either. “I don’t want
to talk about it. Larson’s in jail. I don’t want to be reminded about what he did.”
Nate winced. “Yeah, about that—I heard he’s pleading for a lighter sentence. He might
be released sooner than you think.”
Jesse’s stomach tightened. He’d been taking self-defense classes to work off all his
frustration, but that prospect still sent a shiver down his spine.
For a long time back there, Jesse had been Larson’s pride and joy. Larson had put such
an exorbitant price tag on his head that Jesse hadn’t gone to anyone in the black market.
And the prices there had already been insane.
Or maybe Larson just wanted to parade Jesse around, and keep Jesse for himself.
Whatever. The idea of that doctor walking around as a free person, though...
Jesse’s white Russian arrived; he took a huge gulp of it. Just so the buzz would hit him
sooner. “I don’t want to talk about him, either.”
“Fine.” Nate looked at him askance. “But take care, kid. You aren’t like everyone else.”
He reached over, patting Jesse on the knee. It felt kind of fatherly. Jesse’s throat
tightened; the team was his family, but he missed his biological family, too.
Then he sneaked a glance at Dom—the one alpha who didn’t exactly feel like family,
and not really a coworker, either.
Dom was already watching Jesse, his eyes dark. Jesse’s breath snagged in his throat.
Had Dom heard that conversation?
Dom’s stare lingered on Jesse’s face. Then it drifted over Jesse’s body, and Dom blinked.
He frowned, looking harder at Jesse’s arms.
Jesse thought briefly about covering up, except he was wearing short sleeves. And it
would only prove that he had something to hide. So he held still, waiting until Dom
met his gaze again.
Dom’s lips pressed into a thin line; his eyes flashed. He’d realized what Jesse had done
with the beads, then. And he was angry. A dark thrill hissed down Jesse’s spine.
“Careful there, Jesse,” Nate warned lowly. “You know what’s at stake.”
No, Jesse didn’t. And maybe that was a good thing.
He threw back the rest of his white Russian. When the waiter came by to take their
orders, he asked for a whiskey shot.
Dom ordered a whiskey shot, too.
The conversations at the table faded.
They were doing this. Three years later, and Dom was finally, finally taking him up on
this again. Jesse’s blood thrummed in his veins; his heart pounded. He tried looking at
his other teammates, just so no one would notice the way he thirsted for their deputy.
Except Dom was still staring at him. Jesse’s blood roared in his ears. He needed to calm
down. He needed to not blow the shreds of cover he had left.
“Are you riding with me tonight?” Nate asked.
“No,” Jesse said, his voice stuck in his throat. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t
think. “But thank you.”
Nate gave him a warning look, but Jesse was half-hard, and the only place he wanted to
be, was inside Dom’s pants.
He wasn’t sure how he’d make it through the rest of the night. When his order arrived,
Jesse downed it. Whiskey burned down his throat; he coughed.
Dom didn’t finish all of his shot, though. He sipped from the little glass, watching Jesse.
His attention strayed occasionally, when Gareth spoke to him, or Harris did. But his
gaze never failed to return, and the darkness in his eyes promised.
The heat in Jesse’s body burned hotter and hotter, until liquid fire coursed through his
veins. Jesse wiped his palms on his pants, and he needed so much that even his teeth
ached.
Sometime through the night, an eternity later, Nate said again, “I’m heading home.
You’re sure you don’t want to join us.”
Jesse shook his head. “I’m sure.”
Nate gave him a last look, before he left with York, Brad, and Alec. Only then did Dom
empty the shot glass he’d been sipping from all night. And his stare burned all the way
down to Jesse’s balls.
“You know, Gareth,” Harris said. “I think we should sit elsewhere. This is getting
uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, you could cut butter with that tension,” Gareth said. “You don’t happen to need
a carrot, do you, Dom? ‘Cuz I have an emergency one in my car.”
“Maybe another time,” Dom rumbled, signaling for the waiter. “Six shots of whiskey,
please. That’ll be all.”
Jesse was about to protest that he hadn’t had a chance to order, when Dom met his eyes.
And the realization struck him that Dom had ordered for both of them.
Because they would do the shots, and then they would—
Holy fuck. Jesse swallowed, his throat so dry that he needed a drink. Maybe straight off
Dom’s chest.
“Yeah, no, we’re really going,” Gareth said. “Harris, are you covering the bill, or—”
“I’m doing it,” Dom growled.
Jesse’s entire body sang, and Dom hadn’t even touched him yet.
G ARETH AND H ARRIS disappeared elsewhere into the bar. Dom stayed in his seat. Jesse
half-wanted to stand, but he couldn’t move. Then he decided that he wanted to be
closer to Dom. To stare him down. Yeah, that was a good reason.
He heaved himself to his feet. Dom’s gaze raked down his body, hot and intent,
dragging more heat between Jesse’s legs. Dom seemed to know how he affected Jesse—
he focused on the growing bulge in Jesse’s pants, and Jesse had to gasp to refill his
lungs. He wanted to unzip his fly. To show Dom his cock—because Dom had raked his
gaze all over it, that time in the shower.
He shuffled two seats down, planting his ass right across the table from Dom. Then he
sat back, splaying his thighs open. So Dom could look wherever he wanted.
Dom’s attention coasted down Jesse’s body, slowly, so sharp that it felt as though he
could see through Jesse’s clothes, to his skin. Except he glanced back up, focusing on
Jesse’s arms.
Dom’s jaw tightened; his eyes narrowed. This close, he could probably see the incisions.
And the stitches. He clenched his fists like he wanted to grab Jesse; Jesse wanted to
lunge at him, and show Dom those bead-free arms up close. He’d rub them all over
Dom’s face, maybe. Shove his knee between Dom’s thighs.
But the waiter appeared, cracking the tension. He set six shots of whiskey between
them.
“The bill, please,” Dom said.
Yeah, they weren’t staying long. Jesse grew so hard, it almost made him dizzy. He took
the first shot, downing it in one go. The whiskey burned down his throat.
“Reckless again,” Dom growled, his voice so low that it thrummed through Jesse’s
veins.
“Yeah? We gonna rut in the back?” Maybe Jesse should’ve put it more delicately. But
Dom’s bulge was growing, too, and there was no question what they were doing
tonight.
Dom took a shot, throwing it back. Then his eyes narrowed. “I told you not to hurt
yourself.”
“My body,” Jesse snapped. “You want a say over it, then you better fucking claim it
before you speak.”
Dom’s gaze burned coal-black. He leaned forward, his nostrils flaring. He was smelling
Jesse, filling his lungs with Jesse’s scent.
Jesse had the thought that maybe... Dom would really try to claim him tonight. That
maybe this wouldn’t just lead to some back alley humping. He shifted forward so his
legs were within Dom’s reach.
Dom grabbed Jesse’s knees and shoved them open. Desire flooded between his thighs.
“Think carefully about what you’re offering,” Dom whispered, his gaze pulling Jesse’s
balls tight. “You won’t have a cherry left to pop by the end of tonight.”
The thing inside Jesse snarled to life. It clawed through his veins, so desperate that
Jesse’s hands shook. “I’ve thought about it. Long and hard.” He threw back his second
shot, then his third, his throat burning with the liquor. “But who says it’s gonna be my
cherry being popped?”
He glared—a threat. Dom only smiled, dark and hungry.
The waiter arrived with the bill. Like before, Dom didn’t even glance at it. He shoved
his credit card at the man. With his gaze locked onto Jesse, he swallowed his second
shot of whiskey, his throat working—vulnerable flesh that Jesse wanted to sink his teeth
into. He wanted to feel the give of Dom’s neck, he wanted to taste the sweat on Dom’s
skin.
He wanted Dom beneath him.
The waiter returned. When Dom signed the receipt this time, his pen dug into the
paper, etching a hard groove into it. Then he dropped the pen and tossed back his third
shot.
“We’re done here,” Dom rasped, standing. The fabric of his pants stretched—he was
completely hard, and so much bigger up close.
Jesse was so parched, there was no drink in the world that could slake his thirst.
He followed Dom out the back. The second they cleared the building, Jesse grabbed
Dom’s arm, slamming him against the wall.
Dom hissed, his gaze sharpening, fixing onto Jesse. And now Jesse had his full
attention. Jesse brought their faces so close that Dom’s breath puffed onto his lips.
Except Dom grabbed Jesse’s cock through his pants, roughly, squeezing. A jolt of bliss
shot straight up Jesse’s spine.
“Don’t deny it,” Dom murmured, his eyes glinting. “You’re the one who wants to be
fucked.”
He grabbed Jesse’s belt and yanked hard. So hard that every single one of Jesse’s nerves
lit up, obeying him.
Dom knew exactly what he’d done, too, when he locked their gazes together, his breath
slipping between Jesse’s parted lips—the most intimate they’d been all night. “Nothing
to say to that?”
“I hate you,” Jesse spat.
Dom’s smile only grew. “That makes two of us.” He plunged his other hand down
Jesse’s pants, a large presence that crowded out the rest of the space in there. This
brought his palm flush against Jesse’s cock, the thin cotton of his underwear separating
them.
Jesse grew so hard, he hurt. And Dom could feel every inch of his hunger, he could feel
Jesse’s stretched-thin restraint. Except Dom only laughed, low and so smug that Jesse
wanted to punch him.
“What would the rest say,” Dom whispered, his fingers tightening around Jesse’s cock,
“when they discover that this—” he squeezed again, and Jesse’s hips bucked up
involuntarily “—is what you feel for me?”
Jesse leaked; he hated that Dom could affect him this easily. He hated that Dom was
touching him right there, he hated that he needed more.
“Like you aren’t one second from blowing your load,” he retorted. In a bid to regain the
upper hand, Jesse grabbed Dom through his pants. Dom was thick against his palm, so
big that, for a moment, Jesse wondered how the hell he would even fit that inside him.
Then he imagined it stretching open his hole, and his body burned, his instincts baying
for him to submit. Jesse ignored them all.
“I can hold my load fine,” Dom growled just a hairsbreadth from his lips. “But maybe
you can’t?”
And he pushed his tongue into Jesse’s mouth, a quick, damp thrust that was the most
sinful sort of invasion.
Jesse shoved Dom out with his own tongue, lunging forward to crash their mouths
together. Dom’s lips were warm and soft, surrounded by a hint of stubble. Each slide
sent a thrum of hunger down Jesse’s limbs; he bit hard on Dom, victory swelling in his
chest when the metallic tang of blood burst across his tongue.
Dom snarled. Jesse pushed his own tongue past Dom’s lips—he was inside Dom, and
Dom tasted like whiskey, his tongue flicking against Jesse’s in an intimate touch. So
Jesse rutted against Dom’s hand, pushing deeper inside.
To prove that he was in control.
The next second, his shoulders slammed against the wall, Dom pinning him down, his
chest flush against Jesse’s. “Not so easy, Sinclair,” Dom rasped against his lips.
And he pushed his fingers into Jesse’s underwear, his calluses catching on Jesse’s bare
cock. Then he stroked Jesse, a deliberate slide of skin on skin. Pleasure rushed through
Jesse’s body.
Dom was touching him there, after three fucking years. Jesse hated that he didn’t want
this to end. “Fuck you,” he hissed.
“That’s all you can say?” Dom’s breath raked over his skin. “Before I bend you over and
open that hole?”
Jesse choked on his breath. His hole squeezed tight, and his insides grew molten.
He’d tried it a couple times by himself, in the shower. He’d imagined what it’d be like
when Dom pressed him up against a wall and pushed multiple fingers inside. He’d
closed his eyes and gone rough on himself.
But that was nothing compared to the way Dom looked at him now, his eyes dark, his
chest heaving with the primal hunger burning on his face. Nothing Jesse did would’ve
prepared him for this.
And even though it was insane, Jesse wanted to push him harder. He wanted to see
what Dom was capable of, when Jesse ripped away his control.
“You think you’re so great, shoving me around,” Jesse whispered against Dom’s lips. It
was such a thrill, knowing that Dom wouldn’t run this time. Knowing that Dom was
listening to every word he said. “You think I’ll listen to your orders just because you’re
the boss.”
Anger flashed in Dom’s eyes; his grip on Jesse grew tight. “I told you not to hurt
yourself.” He ran his palm down Jesse’s forearm, over the stitches. “What part of that
didn’t you fucking understand?”
“The part where I’m supposed to listen to you!” Jesse spat onto his mouth, watching as
the clear fluid slid over the cut on Dom’s lower lip.
Dom tensed. Then, as though he couldn’t believe it, he licked Jesse’s saliva off with the
tip of his tongue. And he lunged, crashing their mouths together, pushing his tongue
into Jesse’s mouth to return that fluid to him. Arousal lanced through Jesse’s veins.
“When I give you an order,” Dom snarled, “you will fucking obey me.”
“Yeah? Make me,” Jesse hissed.
Dom pumped his cock once, a rough tug that focused Jesse’s attention back to where
they touched. And Dom dragged his heavy fist down, all the way to Jesse’s tip. Pleasure
rushed through Jesse’s veins; he fought the urge to buck his hips. But he couldn’t stop
his precome from smearing all over Dom’s fingers.
Instead, he yanked on Dom’s hair, so savagely that Dom swore and bit Jesse’s lip, a
hard bite that broke skin—they were even now.
Except Dom squeezed the precome out of Jesse’s cock, rubbing his work-hardened
fingers over the sensitive opening at Jesse’s tip. “So fucking wet,” Dom whispered.
“Not for you,” Jesse growled.
Dom smiled, pinching Jesse’s tip so hard that pain and pleasure twisted down his veins.
Jesse swore and bucked, and Dom pulled his hand out, holding it up so his fingers
glistened in the low light.
It was wet. All from Jesse.
Jesse hated that his face burned, he hated that he wanted Dom to do something with
those slippery fingers.
And Dom did. He shoved his hand down the back of Jesse’s pants, smearing precome
down Jesse’s back, to the crack of his ass.
Jesse’s ears rang. He knew he should fight back. To show Dom that he didn’t want it.
But he couldn’t. He didn’t want Dom to stop.
“Tell me you hate this,” Dom whispered against Jesse’s lips. And he pushed his fingers
all the way down between Jesse’s cheeks, spreading them apart. Exposing Jesse’s hole.
Jesse knew when Dom found it, because Dom’s breath shuddered out of him. Dom
pressed down hard against that entrance, circling it. Jesse wheezed, his entire
consciousness anchored on that one spot they touched. Wondering if Dom would push
into him. Open him like he’d promised.
“By the end of tonight,” Dom growled, “you’ll know what it feels like to be fucked raw
here.”
And he ground his fingertips against Jesse’s sensitive hole, smearing precome all over
it.
Jesse almost came right there. He had the sudden mental image of himself stretched
open, Dom’s cock plunging into him. Owning him.
Need rocked through his body. Except he also smelled the bitter smoke from cigarettes,
and he heard the faint sounds of conversation. There were people here. And there was
no way Jesse would go further with Dom behind the bar, not when what he wanted
involved submitting to Dom. Having his pants down. Being less of an alpha.
He yanked Dom’s hand out of his pants, shoving him off. “I’m not submitting to you.”
He stalked toward the line of cabs waiting, each movement grinding his asscheeks
together, his precome slippery between them. Dom had done that. Dom had touched all
of Jesse’s cock, he’d rubbed Jesse’s hole, and the only place he hadn’t touched, was
inside.
The thing in him rumbled, perking up with interest. He tried shaking his head to clear
the fuzziness there, except he was so hard, he couldn’t think.
The warmth in his body had grown more intense, much more than when he’d first felt it
in the bar. An aching need thrummed through his veins, pooling between his legs. His
insides all felt hot. As though there was no way he could erase it, no matter what he
did.
And Jesse realized there was no way they could stop where they were tonight. Not until
he’d come so hard, there was nothing left in his balls.
F OOTSTEPS THUDDED MORE LOUDLY behind him. Then musk and blackwood wafted
into his nose, and Dom fell into step beside Jesse, his jaw set, his eyes burning. The line
in his pants was bigger than ever. Jesse swallowed dryly.
When they reached the cabs, Dom stepped forward, opening the backdoor of one. But
instead of ushering Jesse in, Dom climbed into the cab first.
Jesse almost thought it rude of him, except Dom left the door open.
It was an invitation. And if Jesse stepped into the cab with him, then they most certainly
weren’t going anywhere for drinks tonight.
His cock damn near ripped through his pants. Jesse gritted his teeth and stepped in
with him, pulling the door shut.
Dom gave the driver an address. “Make it quick,” he said, shoving a folded bill at the
man. Then he reached over, cupped Jesse’s nape, and hauled him forward.
Jesse all but fell into his lap, cursing. Dom bit his lip and kissed him, and he thrust his
tongue roughly into Jesse’s mouth. Their surroundings faded out, until there was only
Dom, and Dom’s solid thighs, and his mouth devouring Jesse in a kiss he couldn’t keep
up with.
“What the fuck,” Jesse hissed, wanting to pull away, at the same time he wanted to rip
Dom’s pants open. “Not alone.”
Dom ignored him, sliding his tongue back into Jesse’s mouth, a good, deep thrust that
made the rest of Jesse’s blood surge south, until there was none left in his head, and he
couldn’t think.
“Better put that tongue to good use,” Dom growled.
Jesse fumbled with Dom’s pants, wanting to pull it open. Wanting to see what he’d do if
his cock was suddenly out. But he couldn’t get a good grip on Dom’s belt, and his
hands were shaking too much for him to do more than grope Dom, feeling the weight
and thickness of him.
Dom broke the kiss to hiss in his ear, “I want to see your lips wrapped around that.
Suck it good, and it’ll be ready for you.”
Wasn’t it raring to go? Except it wasn’t lubed—Oh. Jesse groaned, and Dom’s fingers
dug into his skin, their lips sliding together in the most intoxicating kiss Jesse ever had.
He gasped when Dom released him, only to have his deputy close his mouth around his
earlobe—the one with the earring. Dom sucked hard on that, a tantalizing pressure that
went right between Jesse’s legs.
Jesse didn’t care anymore that they were in a cab. He yanked Dom’s shirt out of his
pants and ripped it open, buttons popping, fabric tearing, until all that remained was
Dom’s bare chest, broad and muscular in the glow of the streetlamps rushing by.
Dom’s gaze scorched. “You’ll pay for that,” he murmured. And he reached behind to
grasp Jesse’s ass, his fingers dipping down his covered crack, pushing right against
where his hole was.
Jesse’s entire body ached. He panted, yanking Dom closer so he could kiss him again.
Didn’t matter that he was inexperienced. He wanted the upper hand.
He shoved his tongue into Dom’s mouth. Dom groaned, the sound sending a sweet
rush of want through Jesse. Jesse grasped Dom’s torn shirt and hauled him closer,
forcing Dom to lean in. So he was off-balance.
Dom broke the kiss, his lips gleaming with wetness, his gaze raking down Jesse’s face. It
was only when he threw some notes at the cab driver and opened the door, that Jesse
realized they’d arrived.
He stumbled out after Dom, barely glancing at the house, Dom’s truck parked in the
driveway, the porch light a welcoming glow.
Dom prowled toward the front door. He got it open in seconds, and Jesse followed him
into the house. The entire place smelled like blackwood. Some lights came on.
The moment the front door shut, Jesse lunged, slamming Dom against the wood so
hard, it creaked. “You’re not getting the upper hand tonight,” Jesse snarled, hooking his
thumbs into Dom’s pants, hauling him closer.
Dom’s gaze flashed. “Yeah? You’re saying that on my territory?”
Jesse kissed him hard, pushing his tongue deep into Dom’s mouth so Dom would see
exactly what he meant.
Except Dom sucked on his tongue—the pressure took Jesse by surprise. And Dom
hauled Jesse’s hips against his own, grinding their bulges together in a sinful slide of
bliss.
So both of them were hard. It didn’t have to mean anything.
Jesse rocked his hips against Dom, trying to wrestle back his control. Dom slammed him
into the adjacent wall. While Jesse recovered from the impact, Dom yanked on Jesse’s
belt, halfway to unbuckling it. Jesse shoved Dom’s hands away so he could undo Dom’s
belt first.
The more naked Dom was, the easier it’d be to pin him down. And slide inside.
“I’m crushing your cherry tonight,” Jesse hissed.
Dom’s lips curved in a ruthless smirk. “Keep fooling yourself.”
The moment Jesse busied himself with Dom’s belt, Dom grabbed the chance to undo
Jesse’s belt. And he was faster, ripping Jesse’s belt open, yanking it clean out of Jesse’s
pants with a sharp tug that sent tingles through Jesse’s skin.
Just as quickly as the belt had gone, Dom tore open Jesse’s pants. And he shoved down
both the pants and underwear, hauling Jesse forward so he could grasp Jesse’s ass.
Jesse swore, only now getting Dom’s belt unbuckled. How was Dom so fucking fast?
Except Dom’s fingers were already working between his asscheeks, roughly squeezing
the muscle there. Jesse throbbed.
“Nice and firm,” Dom growled, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with hunger. “Gonna
spread for me, Sinclair.”
And he pushed his fingers down, right against Jesse’s hole in a thrust that showed no
mercy.
Jesse swore and knocked his hand away, even if his hole was ready to be opened.
Dom smiled dangerously. “Last chance,” he murmured. “Door’s right here. By staying,
you consent to be fucked in the ass. Hard. You won’t walk straight tomorrow.”
Holy fucking gods. Jesse grew so hot, his entire body felt like it was on fire. Dom could
smell his musk, too. Because a low growl started in Dom’s throat, his nostrils flaring, his
breaths coming faster.
Except Dom wheezed, suddenly. He tensed against Jesse, his eyes growing wide—he
was surprised by something. And his musk crashed into Jesse’s chest like a
sledgehammer.
Jesse somehow expected it, even before Dom rasped, “Why the fuck am I in a rut?”
It wasn’t like Jesse knew. Alphas only went into ruts with omegas they had an
emotional attachment to.
Of which Jesse was neither.
He grabbed the chance to tear open Dom’s pants, shoving his hand in so he could grab
Dom’s cock.
Fuck, it was big. It was raging-hard, so hungry that Jesse knew exactly where it wanted
to be.
Dom closed his hand around Jesse’s, thrusting hard against his palm. “This,” Dom
panted, “is how it’ll go inside your hole.”
And he shoved it roughly against Jesse’s hand, base to tip, so Jesse learned every single
inch of his alpha’s cock, right there. He knew how it would stretch him open. How deep
it would go. His body grew hotter, so hot that maybe he’d start setting things alight by
touch alone.
“Not gonna,” he growled, shoving Dom’s pants down, too. Then he slipped behind
Dom.
Before Dom could turn, Jesse grabbed his arms, shoving Dom chest-first against the
wall. And he pushed his cock hard against Dom’s ass, his instincts roaring when Dom’s
taut cheeks parted around him.
Fuck, Jesse wanted to claim this man. What would it look like when Dom’s hole opened
around him?
Before he could roll his hips, Dom snarled and whirled around, so fast that Jesse lost his
grip. And Dom hooked his arm around Jesse’s neck, yanking him down. Jesse
stumbled. It felt like Dom anticipated his self-defense moves, because he was foiling
Jesse, yanking Jesse onto his knees.
Jesse grasped Dom’s pants, ripping them the rest of the way down. Approval flashed in
Dom’s gaze; he shrugged out of his clothes. And now he was completely naked,
muscles rippling, his cock thick, bigger than Jesse’s. Jesse wasn’t the least bit afraid.
Only thrilled.
He scrambled onto his knees. Dom knocked him back against the hardwood floor with
a body slam, sending the air rushing out of Jesse’s lungs. Jesse struggled to heave him
off; Dom straddled Jesse’s shoulders and grasped the back of his head, grinding his
cock against Jesse’s face, precome smearing over his cheek.
It was thick and musky, and that thing inside Jesse grew tight. Desire sluiced through
him.
“Suck it,” Dom rasped, shoving his tip past Jesse’s lips. Salt smeared across his tongue;
it was slippery, decadent. “Fuck.”
And he thrust deeper into Jesse’s mouth, thick and heavy, the movement so lewd that
Jesse ached. He would’ve hidden how much this aroused him, except Dom reached
back, grasping Jesse’s cock in his hand.
“You like this,” Dom growled, pushing so deep, he hit the back of Jesse’s throat. Jesse
choked; Dom was more than he could swallow, and Jesse loved it. “Fucking hell,
Sinclair. Had no idea you liked alpha cock so much.”
Jesse didn’t. Only Dom’s, apparently.
Dom fucked his mouth, deep and savagely. Jesse groaned, sucking on him. He couldn’t
seem to find the leverage to shove Dom off. But Dom would release him... if he didn’t
want to come.
So Jesse sucked on his deputy’s tip, grinding his tongue against it, giving it the lewdest
kiss he knew. He kept it up until Dom’s thighs spasmed and Dom yanked his cock out,
his length so thick and red that it looked like it was on the verge of blowing.
“Thought you could hold it in,” Jesse said. “Getting old, Dom.”
Dom glared; he grasped the base of his cock and swung it hard against Jesse’s cheek—a
damp, heavy smack. “Fuck you.”
For once, he had nothing smooth to say.
Dom released Jesse to turn him over; Jesse snatched the chance to roll onto his feet,
pummeling Dom onto the floor. They landed hard against each other, Dom under Jesse,
wearing only a sharp smile.
“Keep trying, Sinclair.” Dom’s breath rushed over Jesse’s lips; he reached down and
yanked Jesse’s shirt up so their chests met, skin on skin. “Ready to take it up your ass?”
Why did Dom keep saying shit like that, when he knew it made Jesse hot?
Jesse growled, shoving their bare cocks together to shut Dom up. The friction jolted
pleasure down his spine; Dom gritted his teeth. He was trying not to come, wasn’t he?
So Jesse rutted harder against him, grinding their most intimate parts together in a bid
to force Dom’s release. He snapped his hips over and over, each thrust drawing the
tension in his body taut, until Dom snarled and heaved him off, throwing himself onto
Jesse to crush him against the floor.
Their bodies rubbed together, Dom’s tip shoving tantalizingly against Jesse’s abdomen.
He knocked Jesse’s legs apart and caught his knee, lifting it to expose Jesse’s ass. Jesse’s
pulse pounded between his thighs. But he wouldn’t give in, not right now.
He shoved Dom off, lunging onto him to pin him down. Then he kicked off his pants
for the same freedom of movement Dom had, and flung off his shirt. When he sat up,
naked and straddling Dom’s hips, Dom rumbled, raking his gaze over Jesse’s chest.
A blunt tip pushed between his cheeks, before Jesse was completely aware of it.
Wetness smeared against his skin. Dom locked their gazes together, anchored Jesse
down, and rolled his hips, his cock sliding roughly against Jesse’s hole, a sweet, dark
promise.
Heat exploded through Jesse, like a floodgate somewhere had blown open.
Jesse hissed, scooting further up Dom’s chest. So Dom couldn’t pull that again. But it
didn’t stop the way his cock fucking hurt, it was so hard.
Dom only smiled. “Gonna be this hard when I fuck you, Sinclair?”
Damn, but Jesse loved when Dom called him by his last name. It meant that Dom was
speaking to him, instead of pretending that they were just coworkers, that everything
was fine between them.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Jesse panted, shuffling forward to rub his cock against
Dom’s face—same as what Dom had done to him. It gave him such a thrill; Dom was
his deputy. And Jesse’s cock skimmed his cheek, precome smearing over Dom’s lips.
Scarcely had he ground against Dom’s mouth, when Dom reached around, his callused
fingertips brushing Jesse’s ass.
It was his only warning; their eyes met. And Jesse realized his legs were spread, his hole
vulnerable.
Dom seemed to be waiting for something. Jesse didn’t know what.
A split second later, Dom drove his fingers between Jesse’s cheeks, pushing them apart,
searching out his entrance. Jesse gasped at that intimate touch, his pulse stumbling.
Dom found his hole a heartbeat later, grinding his fingertip against it. He watched Jesse.
And sank his finger all the way inside, the shock of his entrance erasing the rest of
Jesse’s thoughts.
It burned a little. Mostly, Jesse couldn’t get over the sensation of Dom inside him, a
demanding touch that wasn’t his own.
Finally.
Dom’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re damp inside.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Jesse had been when he’d tried fingering himself, too. It hadn’t
occurred to him that it wasn’t normal.
“Just odd, is all.” Dom swirled his finger around inside, until he brushed against
something that made spots dance through Jesse’s vision. Dom growled. And he jammed
his finger hard against that spot, so pleasure shot through Jesse and his eyes rolled
back; he couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck,” Jesse panted. “What the fuck?”
“Your prostate,” Dom rasped, grinding down hard on it. Jesse clenched around him, his
legs spasming, trying to deal with that pleasure. “It’ll feel better with my cock there.”
Dom’s voice dipped so low, it raked down Jesse’s nerves. “You’ll scream, Sinclair.
You’ll come so hard, you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
And he shoved down on that spot, over and over, until Jesse’s balls squeezed so tight,
he thought he might come.
Dom pulled his finger out and pushed two in, stretching Jesse wider than before.
Submitting to Dom seemed like such a good idea. The instant that thought flashed
through his mind, Jesse came to his senses.
He yanked himself away, so Dom’s fingers slipped out of him, leaving an emptiness
inside that he wasn’t sure how to deal with. He stumbled to his feet, stalking off, trying
to figure out what his options were.
But Dom caught up with him like a beast, and slammed him against the back of the
couch. Jesse’s nerves sang.
“I told you earlier,” Dom rasped, his body hot and hard behind Jesse. “This cherry is
mine.”
And he pushed his fingers back into Jesse, three this time. An animal sound tore out of
Jesse’s throat; pleasure throbbed through his body, his muscles stretching around Dom
in the most sinful way.
Why the hell did Dom have to feel this good? “Fuck you.”
Dom’s breath rushed hot against his ear; he pressed his chest against Jesse’s back,
sliding his fingers slow and deep, preparing Jesse for his entrance. Then he pulled out,
pushed four fingers in, and Jesse dripped, stretching around Dom. But four fingers
didn’t even compare to the size of his cock.
“There’s only one word that’ll make me stop tonight,” Dom murmured. “‘Donut.’
Anything else, and it’ll mean, ‘Fuck me, Dom.’”
Vaguely, Jesse knew the word meant something else outside of this moment. Something
important. But he couldn’t remember why that was right now. All he knew was that he
didn’t want Dom to stop.
Dom’s lips skimmed his ear, a soft, wet touch. And he pulled his fingers out, his cock
grinding solidly between Jesse’s cheeks, sending a jolt of need through his body.
“‘Donut,’ Sinclair. Say it.”
Jesse shoved him away, so ravenous that he couldn’t think. “Fuck you.”
Dom smiled then, his gaze so dark that it burned Jesse wherever it touched. Jesse made
to step away; Dom lunged, pinning Jesse down against the couch, forcing him to bend
over. With his free hand, he grasped Jesse’s asscheek and spread it. Exposing Jesse’s
hole for his plundering.
Jesse’s breath punched out of his throat. And Dom shoved his blunt tip against Jesse’s
entrance, a hot, slippery touch that spelled in no uncertain terms how this would turn
out.
Jesse turned to leave, just to see how Dom would react. Dom crushed him down and
snapped his hips, and his cock ground against Jesse’s hole, a hard friction that made
Jesse pulse.
“Fucking say it,” Dom hissed, his chest heaving, his cock heavy.
“No,” Jesse growled.
And Dom spat. He lifted his cock away from Jesse’s ass for a second. When it returned,
it was wet, slippery. About to slide inside. Jesse groaned, struggling beneath Dom—
forcing Dom’s hand.
Dom anchored him down and thrust. His tip opened Jesse’s body, stretching his
muscles as he sank in.
Holy fuck, he was big. Jesse couldn’t breathe.

“Fuck,” Dom rasped, his voice hoarse, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. “So
damn tight, Sinclair.”
Jesse thrashed beneath him. “Get the fuck off me.”
Because like hell he’d bend over and take Dom’s cock so easily. Dom had to fight him
for it. He shoved at Dom; Dom muscled him down, snapping his hips so hard that he
sank in all the way, every single inch. Jesse couldn’t think, not when that sheer presence
moved inside him, pulling out, thrusting back in, the most intimate touch he’d ever
received from Dom.
And he needed more.
“You think you’re so big,” Jesse hissed. “But you’re not.”
Dom growled, his eyes gleaming at the challenge. And he pulled out almost all the way,
fucking in so hard that Jesse arched off the couch, electricity jolting through his entire
body.
Dom pulled out, spat again, and rammed back inside, a savage thrust that lit all of
Jesse’s nerves on fire.
“Feel good?” Dom murmured, leaning in. The heat of his chest radiated into Jesse’s
back.
“Not good enough,” Jesse retorted.
Dom snarled, grasped Jesse’s hips, and increased his rhythm, shoving hard against
Jesse’s prostate in a way that made him shudder, his cock aching, pleading for mercy.
It felt so fucking good that Jesse couldn’t believe they’d waited this long, that Dom
wasn’t coming right away—gods knew he was hanging on by a thread.
Dom reached around, grasping Jesse’s erection roughly. “Fuck.”
Jesse ground back against him. “You’re losing your touch, old man.”
Dom bristled. And his next thrust razed pleasure through Jesse’s veins, his strokes
turning vicious as he pounded into Jesse.
It burned, some. Not enough for Jesse to want this to stop. Over and over, Dom
stretched him open, fucking in so deep that his balls tapped against Jesse’s taint. Jesse
felt nothing else—only this alpha deep inside him, the pressure lighting up places he
didn’t even know existed.
He wanted to hold out so Dom would know he couldn’t make Jesse come. But like
before, Dom’s thrusts pulled his nerves tight. Dom’s breathing turned uneven, his cock
growing thicker. Jesse couldn’t hold back. Not when he wanted Dom’s come inside him.
“You won’t fucking make me scream,” Jesse hissed over his shoulder, shoving at Dom
to make him fuck harder.
Dom gripped him so tightly, it felt like he’d leave bruises on Jesse’s skin. And he
ground his cock against Jesse’s prostate, deeper, harder, until Jesse’s breath fled him
and he was struggling not to come, his insides turning molten, his balls pulling tight.
He couldn’t stop himself.
Dom plunged in with a sweet rush of sensation, and the dam broke inside Jesse. He
roared, arching as pleasure ripped violently through his body, yanking pulses and
pulses of come out through his cock. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even
remember who he was, or how he’d gotten here.
He must’ve clenched too tight around Dom, because Dom swore, his strokes turning
feverish, his breath soughing against Jesse’s shoulder. Then Dom bit down hard and
snarled, and his cock jerked, emptying a flood of warmth deep inside Jesse’s body.
They were quiet for a moment after that. Jesse panted, trying to catch his breath. The
fog in his head was starting to clear—ever so slowly. It felt like he’d run a hundred
miles, and his body ached. Exhaustion? He didn’t know.
He sagged forward on the couch, his sweat smearing over the soft leather. It wasn’t the
first time he’d had sex. But it was the first time he’d been touched there, and it had
blown every other sexual experience out of the water.
Dom had done that to him.
Because Jesse had submitted. Because Jesse had bent over, and did what alphas
shouldn’t do. He’d let himself be used, he’d let himself be less.
Did omegas feel like this when they had sex? Probably not. Omegas liked to submit. It
was their thing. But for an alpha to do that... it meant he was weak.
Except he had enjoyed it. Did that mean he was twisted? Sick? Had Dom seen him as an
omega?
Jesse closed his eyes, shame prickling down his neck. He hadn’t figured out what he’d
do after this, but it certainly wasn’t sticking around to see what Dom thought of him.
Dom leaned back, sliding out. The movement sent the remnants of pleasure whispering
through his body—for a heartbeat, Dom was still inside, his cock keeping Jesse
stretched open. Then it left him completely, and something wet trickled down his thigh,
warm and sticky.
Behind, Dom growled. Thick fingers pressed flush against Jesse’s hole—to close it? To
keep the rest of Dom’s come from dripping out?
Jesse’s face burned; he didn’t want to meet Dom’s eyes.
Dom stepped away, his warmth fading. Somewhere in the next room, glasses clinked
against a stone countertop. “Coffee liqueur?” Dom asked, his voice husky.
Why would Dom offer him that? Jesse didn’t know, but he knew he needed to leave. He
found his clothes. He shoved his legs down his pants, his head spinning a little. It was
difficult to zip his fly when his knot was growing. But Jesse managed.
It was when Jesse was straightening his shirt, that Dom stepped back into the living
room. “I’m going,” Jesse said before Dom could comment.
“You’re welcome to breakfast,” Dom said.
What was that supposed to mean? That Dom was wining and dining him? Treating him
like an omega? Or something?
An inexplicable surge of melancholy swamped through Jesse’s chest. Where had that
come from? He didn’t know. But at least the heat in his body had receded somewhat,
and he could think again.
“I’m going home,” Jesse said. “No, thanks.”
“I’ll call you a cab,” Dom said.
Why, so he could pretend that Jesse was someone he could take care of? “No,” Jesse
muttered. He left off his underwear and socks, stuffing them all into his pocket. Then he
stepped into his shoes, heading over to the door. He wasn’t walking completely
straight, and his ass was starting to ache.
It wasn’t like him to be this jittery around Dom, but he’d never had Dom fuck him in
the ass, either. A small part of him wanted to do this again. The rest of him said it was a
bad idea.
Jesse fumbled with the door, stepping outside. The air was fresher there, and he could
think a bit more clearly.
“Sinclair,” Dom said, swearing.
Jesse strode down the driveway. It was a moment before Dom caught up with him, bare
feet slapping against concrete. He grabbed Jesse’s arm, then released him just as
quickly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to grab you.”
From the corner of his eye, Jesse realized that Dom had pulled on his pants, and
nothing else. He hadn’t even buttoned up—he just left his fly zipped shut, his knot a
telling bump.
What would that have felt like inside him?
“What?” Jesse snapped, hating that he was curious about Dom’s knot, of all things.
Dom hesitated. Then he lightly grasped Jesse’s elbow and leaned in, pressing his lips to
Jesse’s forehead—a soft, warm touch. “Just wanted to say good night. That’s all.”
Jesse froze, his breath snagging in his throat. What was that about?
They’d done so many inappropriate-as-hell things tonight. But the kiss? Why? They
were supposed to hate each other.
“I hate you,” Jesse said, but he wasn’t sure about that anymore.
Dom gave a crooked smile. “That’s fine. Still need a cab?”
Jesse turned away so Dom couldn’t see the flush that threatened to creep up his neck.
“I’m fine.”
“Sure.”
He shook off Dom’s touch, striding down the sidewalk to a busier road. Whatever this
thing was between him and Dom... it wouldn’t last.
But that didn’t explain the weight of Dom’s gaze on him, either, all the way until Jesse
stepped out of his sight.
I T WASN ’ T until two days later, when Jesse was getting ready for his shift, hoping
there’d be another chocolate donut on his locker, that the irony of donut struck him.
He froze, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror.
Donut, Dom had said the other night. Anything else, and it’ll mean ‘Fuck me, Dom.’
Dom had watched him eat donuts for a long while. He always swore when Jesse licked
his fingers after.
But had he used donut as a safeword because he’d seen Jesse eat them, or... had he been
the one leaving those treats?
His heart pounding, Jesse left for work ten minutes early.
The donuts were always on his locker by the time he arrived—granted, he’d been
dawdling in the station’s parking lot, sniffing at that blackwood scent.
Today, he pulled his bike in and parked, and sniffed again. Dom’s scent was stronger—
fresher—because he’d only just arrived. Jesse’s heart skipped. He put away his helmet,
hurrying into the station. Harris raised his eyebrows. “You’re early today.”
“Morning,” Jesse said. At least Harris didn’t comment on how the latest bar night had
gone.
He headed toward the locker room, keeping a ear out for Dom’s voice—there was
nothing. But he found a very distinct trail of blackwood on his way.
Maybe this was all just a mistake. Maybe Jesse was wrong.
He paused at the locker room, held his breath, and pushed the door open.
There was someone standing in front of his locker. Someone with gray-streaked hair
and broad shoulders, someone who made his stomach flip.
Jesse stepped in, suddenly realizing he had no idea what he wanted to say to Dom.
How should he act around his deputy? They’d fucked. Dom had felt him come apart.
What did that make them?
Dom turned, his nostrils flared like he’d smelled Jesse. His hands were up, Jesse
noticed. Like he’d been hanging—
There was a small bag on his locker. A donut. On that plastic hook that Jesse couldn’t
bear to remove.
Dom cleared his throat, stepping away.
All the times Jesse had bitten into the donuts, hoping to spite Dom with his mystery-
giver’s gifts... All the times he’d scowled at Dom, tucking the donut under his arm...
He wanted to travel back into the past, and smack himself over the head. You went and
ate Dom’s donuts right in front of him, you idiot! Dom had secretly been laughing at Jesse,
hadn’t he?
“It was you,” Jesse blurted, so furious with himself that he didn’t know what to do.
“Maybe.” Dom tucked his hands into his pockets. He almost looked sheepish.
Jesse barreled forward, hot anger pumping through his veins. Better to feel angry, than
embarrassed. “Damn you,” he muttered, slamming his fist into Dom’s chest. Where it
wouldn’t hurt so much. “You stupid fucker, you’ve been stringing me along—”
“I strung you along?” Dom raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You—” Jesse bit down his words. He didn’t want to admit that he’d thought maybe
someone else at the station liked him. He didn’t want to admit to eating the donuts in
front of Dom, hoping it would make Dom jealous.
He’d thought all those things, and now he felt so stupid for thinking them. “Nothing,”
he snapped. “Whatever.”
Jesse whirled around, thinking of leaving the locker room so he could scrape together
his dignity.
Plastic crinkled. “If you don’t want it, I’ll throw it away,” Dom said.
Jesse froze, abandoning all thought of leaving. He could already taste the chocolate on
his tongue, the sweetness of the donut. He could already feel the airy lightness of the
treat between his teeth.
As much as he hated that Dom had bought it, he didn’t want it gone.
When he said nothing, Dom stepped toward the trashcan, heavy thuds of his boots on
the tiled floor. Jesse turned, horrified.
Instead of dropping the bag into the bin, Dom met his eyes. “If you want it, you’ll have
to take it back from me.”
Those words rang in his head. If Jesse went after that donut, it was as good as telling
Dom he liked those gifts.
Dom smirked. “Not good enough? Should I toss it in the dumpster outside?”
It was one thing to rescue a donut from the trashcan. But Jesse had just shown up for
work, and he couldn’t just step into a dumpster, not without climbing out smelling like
trash. He tried to convince himself to walk away. To let Dom do whatever with that
donut.
It was just a donut.
But Dom had been buying them for him for a long time.
Dom strode toward the exit—he really was heading for the dumpster. Jesse’s stomach
clenched; he lunged, reaching for that little clear bag. Dom swept it high above their
heads, out of Jesse’s reach.
He wasn’t so much taller. But Jesse had to step close if he wanted a chance at retrieving
it.
Dom met his eyes, his gaze dark. “All you have to do is say ‘donut’, Sinclair,” Dom
murmured, his voice raking down Jesse’s spine. “And I’ll stop.”
Heat whispered through Jesse’s veins. His body remembered that night, it remembered
submitting to Dom. Letting Dom thrust inside him. And Dom was just casually talking
about it here in the locker room, like it hadn’t changed everything between them.
He tiptoed and snatched the donut out of Dom’s hand, trying not to feel the way their
chests bumped, the way electricity sparked between them. Dom’s eyes gleamed,
satisfied.
Jesse stalked over to his locker. He opened it and threw the donut in, and slammed it
shut. “I’m gonna give it to someone who actually wants it,” he muttered. “Unlike
bastards who throw them away.”
“Suit yourself,” Dom growled, glancing at the locker.
Jesse flipped him off and stalked out, letting the door slam behind him.
L ATER THAT DAY , between calls, Jesse sneaked back into the locker room.
He knew where everyone was. He’d made sure that they were all busy, that he’d
finished his duties so no one would come looking for him. He’d made especially sure
that Dom was in a meeting with Gareth and Harris, that they wouldn’t wander off
anytime soon.
He washed his hands, dried them off, and retrieved the donut from his locker. It was
the same one he always received—a large donut with a glazed chocolate frosting,
wrapped neatly in a bag with the Ben’s Buns logo.
It smelled sweet and chocolatey when he pulled it out, squishing between his fingers.
Jesse didn’t know how donuts could be so light and airy—they were fluffy rings of
heaven, and he needed to eat this one so he’d stop thinking about it all day.
Just in case Dom looked into the trashcan and found the packaging, Jesse balled it up,
stuffing it into his pocket. He headed into the furthest shower stall and bit into the
donut. The decadent flavor of fried dough burst across his tongue, accompanied by a
hint of salt. Then, chocolate and sugar.
He stifled his groan, leaning against the wall. He imagined what it’d be like if Dom
made him eat this off his cock. Jesse wouldn’t even complain about it.
Well, maybe a little. He wouldn’t want Dom to think he was easy.
Jesse took one bite, then another. The donut was gone before he realized it. Which
sucked, because he could eat another three of the same.
He licked his fingers, then washed his hands. Then he made his way back into the
garage where the others were. Jesse was about to see what Alec was doing, when Dom
brushed past him. And stopped.
Dom turned, his stare heavy on the side of Jesse’s head. “Sin—Jesse,” he said. “A
word.”
Jesse’s heart skipped. Dom had almost called him Sinclair. Jesse was getting to him,
wasn’t he? He bit his smile down, following Dom into the kitchen. It wasn’t like Dom
knew he’d just eaten the donut. Besides, it was gone now. Dom had no proof of it.
The moment they were alone, Dom rounded on him. His gaze raked down Jesse’s face,
pausing on his lips.
And Jesse realized that maybe this wasn’t about work, after all.
Dom grasped Jesse’s chin, tipping his face up. “Did you know?” Dom murmured, so
quietly that Jesse had to strain to hear him. “You have chocolate here.”
He brushed a callused fingertip along the side of Jesse’s mouth, a warm, light touch.
Then he did the same on the other side, lifting it to show Jesse the smears of chocolate
he’d found.
Crap.
“Didn’t think that through so well, did you?” Dom whispered, pressing down on Jesse’s
chin to force his lips apart.
Dom leaned in, his nostrils flaring. For a second, Jesse thought Dom might kiss him. But
Dom only sniffed at Jesse, his eyes gleaming. Dom had smelled the donut on him, then.
And Dom licked the chocolate off his fingertip, rolling it through his mouth like he was
savoring that taste.
Fuck. Heat swelled through Jesse’s face. He wasn’t prepared for that. Not for Dom to
smell him, not for Dom to taste the chocolate from his donut.
For the past few hours, he’d imagined Dom secretly judging him whenever he’d eaten
Dom’s donuts. He’d thought maybe Dom had been playing a trick on him.
But this... Dom looked like he wanted to devour Jesse. That wasn’t the reaction of
someone playing a trick.
Why the hell had Dom bought him donuts, keeping his identity a secret the whole time?
“There’s a bar night next week,” Dom murmured. “Will you be there?”
Jesse’s stomach flipped about sixty times before he found his voice. “No.”
“Yeah?” Dom glanced down. “Your ass still hurt?”
Jesse’s face scorched so hot, it felt like his head might explode. “No.” Maybe just a little.
He’d definitely felt it yesterday.
“You’re not so good at lying, you know.” Dom rubbed his thumb over Jesse’s lower lip,
where his bite had scabbed up. Thankfully, their team hadn’t said a word about the
matching mark on Dom’s mouth. “It’ll heal by next week.”
And he didn’t mean Jesse’s lip. The invitation sent more heat thumping through Jesse’s
veins.
“I’m not an omega,” Jesse blurted before he could stop himself. “So it’ll be nice if you
could stop pretending I’m one.”
Then he wished he hadn’t said it—Dom didn’t need to know what Jesse was so torn up
about.
A shadow flickered through Dom’s expression. “I didn’t say you were.”
“Then why are you being so nice?” Jesse hissed. “Why the fuck are you so damn
confusing?”
This time, Dom looked more guarded. “I’m just treating you the way I think you should
be treated.”
“Like an omega?”
“No.” Dom’s gaze darkened. “Like someone I want in my bed.”
Holy fuck. Jesse’s ears rang. He hadn’t been expecting that. His stomach flipped. But why
would Dom give him donuts in secret, then?
Before Jesse could ask, someone stepped into the kitchen.
He jerked away from Dom, his skin too tight. He wasn’t ready for anyone to discover
this. When Jesse turned, Nate was watching them with narrowed eyes. “You went to
the doctor, right?”
Dom’s stare burned into the side of Jesse’s head. “Doctor?”
Crap. Jesse wanted to groan. Nate didn’t have to say that in front of Dom. Except Nate
just looked pointedly at him, as though he was saying, You didn’t tell Dom?
“I feel fine,” Jesse grumbled. “There’s no need to go.”
But Nate only appeared more suspicious than ever. Jesse’s arms prickled; he tried not to
touch the stitches.
“You’re sick?” Dom asked, narrowing his eyes, too.
“No, I’m fine.” Jesse glared.
Dom glanced at Nate for answers, but Nate only nodded back at Jesse. “His story, not
mine.”
Gods, Jesse wasn’t about to tell Dom anything else about the Facility. Bad enough that
he’d gone and blurted all that crap last year. Bad enough that he’d already bottomed
once for Dom.
Dom reached out for him; Jesse shrugged off his grasp. “I’m going to do some actual
work around here,” Jesse muttered. “Instead of standing around gossiping.”
With that, he left the kitchen, determined to avoid the rest of Dom’s questions.
O VER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS , Dom’s donuts continued to disappear off Sinclair’s locker.
On the fifth week, though, it stayed there the whole day.
Dom stepped into the kitchen close to dinnertime, following the scent of beef stew and
mashed potatoes. Gareth was cooking—Dom had come to recognize those particular
scents over the decades. He could already taste the garlic and cheese in the potatoes, the
tomato and rosemary in the stew.
“It’s ready, right?” Dom asked, glancing around at the assembled team.
“In a minute,” Gareth said, stirring the pots at the stove.
“But the alarm might go off in a minute,” Alec quipped.
York elbowed him. “Don’t jinx it!”
Dom knew he was fortunate that everyone on the team had at least one dish they were
proficient at cooking. He’d heard stories from other firehouses—meals he was thankful
he didn’t have to experience.
“There, it’s ready,” Gareth said. “Have at it.”
A cheer rose amongst the team. Everyone made to grab their plates—that was, everyone
but Sinclair. Sinclair didn’t look eager about the food at all. That wasn’t like him.
When most of the guys had helped themselves, Dom piled some food onto his plate,
taking a seat at the table. Sinclair was the last to join them—there wasn’t much on his
plate at all. Dom knew he’d left much more in the pots than just a few spoonfuls of
mashed potato.
“I didn’t poison the food, Jesse,” Gareth said dryly.
Sinclair shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”
“You didn’t have lunch,” York said.
Dom had been late to lunch—he’d been on a call. So this was news.
Sinclair winced and dug halfheartedly into the potatoes. “I had some food earlier.”
No, he hadn’t. The donut was still on his locker. Was he sick?
The team ate quickly, each of them ever aware that a call could interrupt their meal.
Even then, Sinclair was the last to finish.
Dom kept an eye on him after that, but Sinclair seemed to attend his calls perfectly well.
Three days later, on their next shift, Dom overheard retching in the locker room. The
toilet flushed. Sinclair stepped out, heading over to the sinks to rinse his mouth.
Uneasy, Dom went over to him. “If you’re not feeling well, you should’ve said
something. Take the rest of the day off.”
Sinclair glowered. “I’m fine.”
“You ate that donut yet?”
The man looked away, but something about his demeanor told Dom he hadn’t.
“Lost your taste for the chocolate ones?” Dom asked. That was fine—he could get
Sinclair something else.
Sinclair flipped him off. “I don’t even like those donuts.”
That was more his style. So maybe he’d just lost his appetite. Dom shrugged, turning
away. “Sure. But tell me if you need to leave early.”
Not that he should care so much whether Sinclair was present. Or whether Sinclair
liked his donuts.
There was no answer, but Dom knew Sinclair had heard it. That was good enough.
On their next shift, shadows had begun to appear under Sinclair’s eyes. He still wasn’t
eating enough at mealtimes, either. It was all Dom could do not to yell at him across the
table.
After dinner, Dom pulled him aside, trying not to growl. “Have you seen a doctor?”
Sinclair bristled. “I’m fine, Dom.”
“Yeah? Then tell me how eating three spoonfuls of peas is ‘fine’.”
“Why the hell are you watching what I eat?” Pink fanned across Sinclair’s cheeks. On
any other day, it would’ve looked good on him. Right now, it just scraped the wrong
way against Dom’s instincts.
“Everyone at the table was watching you eat,” Dom muttered. “You think no one
noticed?”
Sinclair scowled harder. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“The moment we clock off, I’m taking you to the doctor.”
Sinclair looked appalled. “I’m not a baby.”
“Then fucking tell me what’s wrong with you!” Because it was digging under Dom’s
skin, not knowing. “It’s been over a week. You’re not getting any better.”
“Maybe I’m just on a diet.”
“A diet where you puke and ignore those donuts?” Dom gave him a pointed look.
“You’d give anything to eat them off my body, Sinclair. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Sinclair flushed redder.
That had been a wild guess. But Dom’s instincts roared when Sinclair couldn’t meet his
eyes. He wanted to yank Sinclair closer, he wanted to brush his wrists over Sinclair’s
skin, to mark him with blackwood. That was a crazy thought. It didn’t make it any less
real.
“Look, I’ll go to the doctor myself, if it’ll make you shut up.”
“Fine.” At least, that soothed Dom’s nerves, except he wanted to be at the clinic, too.
Just to make sure he knew what the doctor said. And so he could make Sinclair swallow
his pills—since Sinclair wasn’t taking care of himself right now.
“You’re going to the doctor?” Nate asked behind them.
Sinclair jumped. Dom turned, irked that he hadn’t heard Nate’s approach at all—he’d
been so focused on Sinclair. “Is there a surefire way to convince him?”
Nate sent Sinclair an unreadable look. “Go to the medical center in Highton. The one
with your case files.”
Case files? In Highton? That was an hour away from Meadowfall.
Sinclair paled. He gripped his forearm, the tiniest frisson of uncertainty shooting across
his face. It had been so long since Dom had seen him that vulnerable, that his instincts
said, This is bad.
And the overwhelming urge to protect him rumbled beneath Dom’s skin.
“Fine,” Sinclair muttered, turning away. “Leave me alone, and I’ll go.”
His expression said it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Dom watched as Sinclair stalked off, his shoulders tense. Aside from the loss of
appetite, he seemed to be doing okay. Just that he was moving slower than he usually
would be. Nate was watching Sinclair, too.
“You know what’s wrong with him?” Dom asked.
Back when they’d hired Nate, Dom had been impressed with his resume. Not so much
by his previous jobs—a large chunk of that had been classified—but by his skill sets.
The man was familiar with a range of things: emergency medicine, helicopter-piloting,
spyware, poisons... the list went on.
Not all of them were applicable in their day-to-day calls, but Dom liked having those
skills at his disposal. It helped that Nate learned things fast, too.
And ever since Sinclair joined the station, Dom had heard whispers about how Nate
had met him. He’d never asked, though. Never thought it was his business to pry.
Now, he was tempted to.
Nate sent him an assessing look. “He might need support at the medical center. You
feeling up to it?”
“Support?” Dom had held Sinclair through his flashbacks. Or did Nate mean something
else?
Nate chewed on the inside of his cheek, as though he was trying to decide how much to
tell Dom. “You’re involved with him, aren’t you?”
Dom’s neck heated. “It’s... complicated. He’ll say there’s nothing going on.”
Nate gave an exasperated sigh. “I assume he hasn’t told you anything about his past,
then.”
“A little.” Dom glanced warily at him. “Is there something I should know?”
Nate checked that no one was listening in. Then, in a lower voice, he said, “What I’ve
told Gareth, Harris, and the rest, is that he came from somewhere terrible. He didn’t ask
for those scars.”
“Yeah, I know that much.”
Nate studied him. “Did you know about the experimentation?”
“The what?”
“He was the subject of some human experimentation. Toxins, implants, various things.
He was one of the doctors’ favorites. For years. I just wish we’d managed to put a stop
to it sooner.”
A cold chill twisted through Dom’s gut. He’d seen the scars. He hadn’t thought so
much about the purpose behind them, aside from what Sinclair had told him. “He only
said he has a tolerance for pain and poison.”
Sinclair never said how he’d achieved that. And how else would he have, aside from
being made to suffer through all of it? Dom could imagine him being tied down, he
could imagine Sinclair screaming in agony. It sent a sick horror creeping through his
veins.
When Nate said nothing, Dom thought over his words. “Wait, you said... years. He was
twenty when he joined the station.”
“You heard right.”
Had Sinclair been just a child when he was captured? Dom swallowed, his ears ringing.
He couldn’t think past the anger snarling in his chest.
“Those beads were implanted for a reason,” Nate continued. “He wasn’t supposed to
remove them.”
“Or else what?”
Nate sighed, nodding toward where Sinclair had gone. “Or else this.”
Dom would’ve asked further, except Nate met his gaze straight on, his expression
severe. “Whatever you hear at the medical center, you’ll have to believe it. It’s where he
was sent after we extracted him.”
“Fuck.” Dom had wanted to go with Sinclair to the doctor, to just be there, but this... It
was turning into something a lot darker. And he could understand why Sinclair had
been refusing to seek treatment.
It didn’t make it right. Just heartbreaking.
“You have the address for that place?” Dom asked.
Nate pulled out his phone, his jaw set. “Yeah. I’ll look it up for you.”
“Thanks.”
Much later, when it was time to leave, Dom found Sinclair in the locker room. “We’ll
take my truck,” he said. “It’s an hour there.”
Sinclair scowled. “I can get there on my own.”
“You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Sinclair blew out a breath, scrubbing his face. “I’m really fine.”
“Will you still be, after you get there?” Dom asked.
Surprise flitted through Sinclair’s face. Then, wariness. “Did Nate tell you something?”
Dom shrugged. This shouldn’t have been his business, either.
But he remembered Sinclair in the fire truck, snarling about being someone else’s
property. He remembered Sinclair opening the donut bags with a secret smile, and his
delight when he’d inhaled the treats. Dom remembered Sinclair’s uncertainty after
they’d had sex. The way Sinclair all but fled, refusing to meet Dom’s eyes.
Sinclair was so self-conscious, Dom realized. And so... human. Still lost, even now.
Dom shouldn’t be seeing these things about him, but he couldn’t help it. “Want a hug?”
he asked.
Sinclair frowned, looking askance at him. “What for?”
“Just asking. In case you wanted one.” Dom changed out of his station clothes, pulling
on a clean set—no telling how long the trip to Highton would take.
When he looked up, he found Sinclair watching him. Despite his illness, interest still
lingered in his expression.
“You’re also welcome to crash at my place,” Dom offered. “After we get back.”
Sinclair scowled. “Quit being nice.”
That made Dom smile. “Or else what?”
“Or else.”
Sinclair followed him reluctantly to the truck. His nostrils flared when he climbed in—
all Dom smelled was his own scent. But Sinclair didn’t roll down the windows to get rid
of it. He just breathed, in and out, like he was trying to calm down.
“You don’t want to go there?” Dom asked.
“Fuck, no.” Sinclair buckled his seat belt, closing his eyes. “I don’t ever want to go
back.”
“Why not?”
Sinclair shrugged jerkily. He looked so uneasy that Dom reached over, lightly grasping
his hand. Sinclair jumped, glancing down. He didn’t pull away, though. So Dom
squeezed Sinclair’s hand lightly—a comforting gesture.
It felt strange, holding an alpha’s hand. Sinclair’s fingers were callused, thick. They’d
seen some rough work at the station. They certainly didn’t feel like an omega’s, but
Dom appreciated that.
“If there’s someone you don’t want to see, tell me,” Dom said. “I’ll make them go
away.”
Sinclair scoffed. “You think I’m a kid?”
“No. But the offer stands anyway.”’
“I don’t get why you’re being so damn nice,” Sinclair muttered.
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Neither is ‘Or else.’”
At that, Sinclair cracked a tiny smile. It was the first time he’d smiled these past couple
weeks. Dom decided that he wanted to see Sinclair smile more. And he also decided
that he wasn’t going to question why he thought that way. Bad enough that he’d gotten
into a rut with Sinclair.
He wasn’t... emotionally attached.
They sat in silence through the first half of the drive. “Want some music going?” Dom
asked.
Sinclair glanced at the radio. Then he reached up, flipping through the stations.
Music from ten years ago came on. Sinclair listened for a bit, then stiffened when the
song changed. He turned the radio off, breathing fast.
“Bad?” Dom asked.
Sinclair was silent for a long time. “It was—” He swallowed. “It was playing in the van.
When they took me.”
Fuck. Dom’s arm tensed; the truck swerved. “Sorry. Want me to pull over?”
Sinclair shook his head. “Keep going.”

Dom held Sinclair’s hand again, this time so he wouldn’t be tempted to punch
something. The more he discovered about Sinclair’s past, the more it felt like needles
under his skin.
Sinclair was young enough to be Dom’s son. Dom had been alive when all that had
happened. It felt like he should’ve done something when Sinclair had been in so much
pain, except he didn’t know what.
Sinclair stiffened when they pulled up at the Highton Veterans’ Medical Center. Dom
wasn’t sure why they’d put Sinclair in a center for vets—his PTSD?—but he wasn’t
about to question it. “C’mon. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get to go
home.”
Sinclair steeled himself, overtaking Dom to lead the way.
He seemed to know where he was going. He led them to the Urgent Care department,
and handed an identity card to the receptionist. The whole time, his gaze darted
everywhere, to every doorway and corner like he expected something to jump out at
him.
At the waiting area, Sinclair sat with his back against the wall. Dom sat with him; it
seemed that Sinclair didn’t mind.
From the corner of his eye, Dom studied the angular grooves carved into Sinclair’s
head, the deliberate incisions that someone had made down the side of his neck.
“Haven’t you seen enough of these?” Sinclair muttered.
Dom hesitated. “I didn’t understand until now.” When Sinclair didn’t answer, Dom
asked, “Were you awake for most of it?”
Sinclair looked away, nodding.
Dom breathed out the violence that tried to explode in his chest. He closed his hand
around Sinclair’s again—seemed like a good enough reason not to hit something.
The nurse called Sinclair’s name. Dom stood when he did; Sinclair sent him an
uncertain look. “You’re not gonna like this.”
“I want to be there,” Dom said. “Please.”
Sinclair looked surprised. After some hesitation, he nodded. Dom followed him into the
doctor’s office, taking the empty seat next to his.
“Hi, Jesse,” the doctor said brightly. She was a beta, thin but sunny. “How can we help
you today?”
Sinclair fidgeted, glancing at Dom. “I lost my appetite. Been puking for the past couple
weeks.”
He’d been throwing up for that long? And he’d hidden it from Dom? Dom narrowed
his eyes, filing away his irritation for later.
The doctor kept her smile. “Is there anything else?”
Sinclair paused. “I removed the beads.”
He laid his arms out on the desk—the stitches were gone, and the skin where the beads
used to be was now scarred with silvery lines. Dom wanted to smack him, but he
understood why Sinclair had done it.
To be honest, he’d probably have done the same.
“Did you leave any beads behind?” the doctor asked.
“No.”
“Have you been supplementing them with any medications?”
“No.”
The doctor’s smile faltered. “Okay, right. Just a few more questions, and I’ll send you
for a test.” Sinclair nodded, so she asked, “Do you have any other symptoms?
Bloatedness? Fatigue?”
Sinclair hesitated. “Some exhaustion.”
He’d been exhausted? While on duty? Dom glanced at Sinclair, remembering his
eyebags, and how he’d been moving slower. He should’ve seen it then. He hated that
he’d let it go on for so long.
Sinclair was very pointedly not meeting his eyes; he hadn’t wanted Dom to find out.
“And... another question,” the doctor began, her gaze flickering toward Dom. “You can
choose to answer this in private. Have you had sexual contact with an alpha this past
year, with you being on the receiving end?”
Sinclair swallowed, his ears turning pink. He wasn’t looking at anyone when he said
quietly, “Yeah. I have.”
“Do you remember approximately when that was?”

Sinclair shook his head.
“Seven weeks ago,” Dom said.
Sinclair still couldn’t look at him, but his flush deepened. The doctor glanced at him for
confirmation; Sinclair nodded.
“Right. I’ll make a note of it.” The doctor smiled again—a little more cautious this time.
“Jesse, I’ll need you to collect a urine sample. When you’re done, hand it over to the lab.
We’ll call you back shortly.”
Sinclair flinched, but he took the small plastic container.
Dom waited for him outside the restrooms. Then they sat against the wall again,
waiting in silence until the nurse called for Sinclair. Sinclair wiped his hands on his
pants, breathing faster.
Dom squeezed his hand. “It’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” Sinclair said between gritted teeth. “Things weren’t okay for a
long time, Dom.”
Dom hated that Sinclair had felt so hopeless. Worse, he’d only been a child back then.
“What do you want me to say?”
Sinclair shrugged, heading back into the doctor’s office. Dom followed him.
When they were seated, the doctor looked hesitantly at Sinclair. “Would you like me to
run through your medical records first, before we discuss the test results?”
Sinclair sucked in a slow breath. “Yeah. Probably.”
“We’ll start with the beads that were in your arms,” the doctor said. “Those were slow-
release drug implants. Specifically, they were releasing hormone inhibitors.”
Vaguely, Dom had the faintest sense of foreboding.
Sinclair’s jaw tightened. “So what happened when I removed them?”
“There has been a hormonal imbalance in your body.” The doctor met Sinclair’s eyes.
“Because there are other implants, those beads served to neutralize the hormones they
produced.”
Sinclair stiffened. “What other implants?”
The doctor turned her screen around to show them some MRI scans—cross-sections of
Sinclair’s torso. “When we did a scan based on the Facility’s reports, we found these in
your midsection.” She highlighted two areas on the MRI image. They looked familiar,
but wrong. There was an organ that opened up into Sinclair’s intestines, and something
else. “This is an ovary,” the doctor said. “And this is a uterus.”
Sinclair had gone deathly silent. Dom stared at the screen, his mind making connections
too quickly—things he was now afraid of the doctor saying.
“So—So what you’re saying,” Sinclair muttered. “I have omega parts?”
“Yes. When you removed the hormone inhibitors, the active hormones in your body
went into effect, thus triggering what we know as a heat.”
“It can’t possibly...” Sinclair seemed stunned.
The doctor looked very apologetic. “I’m afraid that this might be bad news. You’re
pregnant.”
T HE WORDS DIDN ’ T SINK in, not at first. Jesse stared at the screen, trying to straighten
out his thoughts. There was an ovary in his body. A uterus. Omega parts. Inside him.
It couldn’t be. He’d never felt anything different inside.
He pulled up his shirt and saw the scar. The big silver line just above his navel. The one
that had hurt inside for weeks. Back then, he hadn’t known why—all he’d known were
stretches where he’d dipped in and out of consciousness, someone changing his IV
fluids whenever he could think. Then, he’d dropped back into darkness.
Jesse remembered the pride on Larson’s face whenever he paraded Jesse naked in front
of his audience. He’d always been inside a clear fiberglass box, and he would never
hear what Larson told the potential buyers. But Larson had always pointed a red laser
dot at Jesse’s abdomen, where the scar was.
He understood now that Larson’s aim had been this. To put something inside him. So a
buyer could impregnate him for whatever reason.
It was still inside him. This thing. And now Dom had fucked him, and... there was
something growing inside Jesse. Something that shouldn’t be there.
He reeled, trying to breathe, his stomach turning.
“Shouldn’t his body have rejected it?” Dom’s words sounded faraway.
“We did some tests,” the doctor said, just as faintly. “These match Jesse’s DNA, but
with the Y chromosomes turned off. We believe they were grown from stem cells.”
Jesse tried to absorb it all, he really did. But part of his mind just refused to take in the
information. It violently rejected everything, and it made his head spin. He felt like
puking.
He tried to breathe. But when he looked up, all he saw were white walls. Alarm hissed
through his veins.
“Sinclair,” Dom said.
Jesse breathed harder. His heart pounded way too fast. He felt like he was back in the
Facility again, and someone would come in and bring him away. Larson. He was here,
wasn’t he? Where was his bitterwood scent?
“Sinclair,” Dom said. “Jesse!”
Jesse tore away from him, scrambling for the door. He struggled with the knob. Then he
threw it open and barreled down the hallway, cataloging all the movements. All the
potential threats. They could come after him. If there’d only been one of them, he could
take them down. But there were so many that he was outnumbered.
Run.
Jesse blundered through the hallways, trying to follow the signs to the exit. But there
were so many people, he knew he couldn’t leave that way. He turned back. Maybe
there’d be a window in the bathroom. He thought he’d seen a window there. Maybe he
could escape.
Fear crawled up his throat and closed it, and he couldn’t breathe.
He was almost into the bathroom when someone else barreled against him, an
unyielding weight. He struggled against it, snarling when the person forced him into
the bathroom. The window was there. But Jesse needed to get his captor down.
He threw a punch; the person blocked it. Then he was slammed against the wall,
pressed down by that warm body. He tried to look at the window again. He needed to
escape before the rest of his captors showed up.
Something came up, blocking his view of the window. The man turned his face, forcing
their eyes to meet. “Jesse,” the man said. “Look at me.”
Jesse struggled against him. The man forced him down, and his eyes blurred into a
mess of copper-brown.
“Breathe,” the man said. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just breathe.”
Jesse sucked in some air, only because his lungs needed it. Then he breathed more. He
smelled blackwood.
At the back of his mind, he knew that was a safe scent. That he could trust it.
Maybe this person would help get him out of here.
He breathed again. And again. Until his heart stopped pounding so hard, and the white
walls faded into the blue tiles of a restroom.
“Okay?” Dom asked, stroking the nape of Jesse’s neck.
Jesse blinked, panting from the adrenaline. “Yeah.”

Dom released him. Jesse staggered over to the toilet and threw up. It felt like his body
was rejecting everything right now. But Dom approached him. “Okay if I touch you?”
Dom asked.
Jesse nodded. Dom set a hand gently on his back, rubbing it.
It was a kind touch. Nothing dangerous. Jesse heaved up what little he’d eaten, before
spitting the taste out. He flushed the toilet and went over to the sink to rinse his mouth.
He tried not to think about what the doctor had said. He didn’t want to panic again. Or
puke again. But he didn’t know what to do with the thing inside his body, either.
Now that he was concentrating on finding it, he could feel a small, hard object in his
middle. He knew exactly where it was. That made all his remaining hair stand on end.
“Do you want to come back another day?” Dom asked. “To see what options you have?
Or do you want to talk about it now?”
Jesse wanted to curl up somewhere, and pull the covers over his head. “Not right now.”
“Okay. We’ll go home.”
Dom touched the small of his back, waiting until Jesse was ready to leave. Jesse focused
on that light pressure. He breathed in that blackwood scent, and walked with Dom out
of the medical center. It was easier when he didn’t have to think about all the other
people staring at him. Just Dom. Dom was safe.
In the parking lot, he drew his first deep breath. Then another. It felt so good to fill his
lungs again.
“You don’t like hospitals, huh?” Dom asked.
Jesse shook his head. Then he thought Dom might judge him, but Dom only pulled
open the passenger door, waiting for Jesse to climb in.
“I’m not a baby,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, I know.” Dom cracked a smile, squeezing his thigh. “But you’re allowed to be
scared.”
He left the door open, so Jesse could close it when he was ready. Then Dom climbed
into the driver’s seat, glanced at Jesse, and said, “I’m closing the door.”
Jesse made sure he looked at the door, so he knew it was that door closing, and not
some door from his memory. “Okay.”
Dom smiled, squeezing his knee.
“Want some food?” Dom asked. “It’ll be an hour of nothing ‘til we get back to
Meadowfall.”
Jesse wanted a donut, but his stomach was still churning. So he shook his head.
They drove home in silence, Dom tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Jesse
realized he’d never really seen Dom in private before—it had always been Dom the
deputy, Dom at bar night, or Dom all over him. Never just Dom alone, watching the
road, just... existing. He looked like he was at peace with himself.
“What’s it like not being scared?” Jesse blurted. Then he thought maybe he shouldn’t
have asked.
Dom cracked a smile. “That’s a hard one.”
“Maybe.”
“Only because I don’t have much left to lose.”
Jesse blinked. “You have a house. And a job.”
Dom shrugged. “Yeah.” He paused. “I lost my omega.”
Jesse’s breath left his lungs. He’d never lost anyone close to him before. But back at the
Facility, he’d glimpsed some of his fellow subjects in cages. Some he’d almost felt a
comradeship with. Then they’d disappeared, and he’d asked about them. Rutherford
said they’d died.
So Jesse knew that feeling of loss. He just hadn’t experienced it with someone who was
as important to him as a bondmate. And now he felt bad for Dom.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Then he thought about the medical center, about the things inside him, and wondered if
Dom had somehow known. And if Dom was going to see him as a replacement omega.
He shoved that thought away.
Dom sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s okay.” Jesse looked at the roof of the truck. “My life is complicated.”
Dom’s smile faded. Jesse missed it immediately, but he didn’t know how to bring it
back.
They didn’t speak again until they turned off the highway into Meadowfall. “Where do
you live?” Dom asked. After a pause, he added. “Or would you rather crash at my
place? The offer’s still open.”
Jesse fidgeted with his scarred fingers. Dom was still being inexplicably nice. “I don’t
know. Is it quiet there?”
His apartment wasn’t so quiet sometimes. He’d been thinking about renting a different
place, somewhere with neighbors who didn’t slam their doors. But Jesse had moved
about four times, and he was getting tired of uprooting himself again.
“Yeah. It’s quiet there.” Dom tapped on the steering wheel. “There’s food in the fridge,
and I have a spare bed.”
“Oh.” Jesse had thought that maybe Dom would invite him into his bed. Was this a
good thing?
As though he’d read Jesse’s mind, Dom added dryly, “You could share my bed. But no
sex.”
And now Jesse was disappointed. What, did he think Dom was ready to drag him into
bed?
“At least, not until we’ve gotten this thing sorted out,” Dom muttered.
Jesse cheered up at that. Even though he’d sworn up and down that he wasn’t letting
Dom fuck him again.
At the house, he waited for Dom to let him in. “Spare room is here,” Dom said, leading
the way. Jesse glanced at Dom’s broad shoulders crowding out the space in the hallway,
and the pants that clung to his ass. “Here, I’ll get you something to wear.”
He disappeared into another room, one that smelled completely like blackwood. Jesse
stepped closer, just sniffing at that scent. Did Dom know he smelled good? Or was Jesse
just so tired that his thoughts were getting weird?
Dom stepped out, thrusting some folded clothes at him. “And a toothbrush. There.
You’re set.”
“Thanks,” Jesse mumbled.
Dom was staring too intently at him. Jesse felt that maybe he should snark at Dom, just
so he seemed more in control. He was so exhausted, though. Maybe tomorrow.
“I’ll see you later,” Jesse said.

Dom watched as he headed into the bedroom.
When he’d shut the door, the fatigue crept back, turning his limbs into lead.
He shook out the clothes Dom had handed him. They smelled like soap and blackwood,
and he buried his face in them, filling his lungs with Dom’s scent.
Maybe, when he left... maybe he needed to borrow one of Dom’s used shirts. Just
because.
Slowly, he shrugged out of his clothes, before pulling on Dom’s PJs. They were worn
and soft, and the shirt was a little tight on him. The shorts, too. Then Jesse thought
about Dom wearing this to bed, with nothing else beneath, and his body thrummed.
It was a good thought. He climbed into bed, pulled the covers over his head, and closed
his eyes.
W HEN HE OPENED HIS EYES , the shadows were all wrong. Jesse panicked a little, trying
to figure where he was. Then he smelled blackwood on the sheets, and calmed. Dom
was around somewhere. That was good.
Immediately after, he hated himself for thinking that. He didn’t need to depend on
Dom. He was alpha. He didn’t need another alpha to feel safe.
Jesse threw off the sheets, swinging his legs off the mattress. He glimpsed the scars on
his thighs, and felt the small, solid object somewhere in his middle.
The uterus.
That hadn’t been a nightmare, then. It was real. Larson had sunken his claws into Jesse,
and Jesse hadn’t even known those experiments were still inside him, until now. He felt
nauseous again. He pulled up his shirt, staring at the big scar, wishing it wasn’t there.
Worse, Dom had been at the medical center. He’d heard all of it.
He knew how powerless Jesse had been, back at the Facility. How Jesse had omega
parts inside him even now.
Shame crept up Jesse’s face. He flopped back onto the bed and pulled a pillow over his
head, his neck burning.
No, he didn’t know how he was going to step out to face Dom. What part of him had
decided that crashing at Dom’s place was a good idea?
The part that was making his tight shorts even tighter. Obviously.
Jesse groaned, shoving at his cock. No, they weren’t doing anything. Especially now
that he was... pregnant. With Dom’s baby.
How could that even happen? They’d only fucked once. Did Dom see Jesse as some
weird trophy notch on his belt?
Jesse reached for another pillow, pulling it over his head. He fumbled around and
found a third pillow, and pulled it over the other two.
He spent a short while feeling sorry for himself. Then he shoved those thoughts aside
and stood. It wasn’t like moping would change anything. He’d just make Dom some
food as thanks for the drive, and then he’d take a cab back toward the station, where his
bike was.
The sooner he stopped thinking about the uterus, the less anxious he’d be.
Jesse slipped out of the bedroom, listening carefully to make sure Dom wasn’t moving
through the house. He stopped by the bathroom. Then he headed to the kitchen, in
search for something to eat.
It was 6PM. He’d been asleep for a while, then.
As Jesse moved through the house, he realized that it was all really nice. The living
room led to a mini bar and a dining room, and the kitchen was all polished counters
and smooth lines. Things that he hadn’t thought to pay attention to, the last time he was
here.
Some cookies later, he found a bag of potatoes in the pantry, and some butter in the
fridge. Then he looked in the drawers for knives, but there weren’t any. At all. In the
entire kitchen. The only knives he found were butter knives, and a fruit peeler.
What kind of person had no knives in their kitchen?
He peeled the potatoes and set them in a pot to boil. While he waited, he looked back
down at his abdomen. If he could remove the uterus from his body... things would go
back to normal, wouldn’t they?
Had it given him hormones that made him want Dom? Was that why he was so
attracted to Dom’s scent?
Did that make him some sort of omega?
If word somehow got out... would the rest of the team treat him differently?
Jesse closed his eyes, wishing he’d never agreed to go to the medical center. He
would’ve been better off not knowing. How long could he even hide this? What was he
going to do with a baby?
He’d never had to think about shit like this before, and it made him uneasy. What if
Dom decided that Jesse wasn’t fit to work on the team? What if he lost the station
family he’d worked so hard to be accepted into?
Jesse swallowed, his throat tight. He wasn’t sure what to do. His stomach twisted.
“Sinclair?” Dom asked.
Jesse jumped a foot into the air, his heart slamming against his ribs.
“Sorry,” Dom said. He was there when Jesse whirled around—just watching him. And
he was still wearing the same clothes as before. Had he not slept? “How’re you
feeling?”
“Like crap.”
Dom winced. “Want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” Jesse glared at the stove. “I don’t need you looking down
on me, or thinking I’m an omega, or—”
“Sinclair.” Dom strode forward until he was right next to Jesse, his warmth soaking into
Jesse’s arm. “I don’t think of you any differently.”
“How is that possible?” Jesse scowled, turning to face him. “You know what I have in
my body. You know I’ve been tied down like a slave. You fucking know I’ve been less,
and it’s just so—so...”
Humiliating. When he wanted Dom to respect him.
Dom met his eyes. The he pulled Jesse against his solid chest, and wrapped his arms
tight around Jesse. “Should’ve done this earlier.”
Jesse struggled, alarmed. What was Dom doing? “I’m not—”
“Let me hug you, damn it!”
Dom tightened his hold around Jesse, stroking a palm down Jesse’s back. And the touch
sank into his skin like comfort from a warm blanket. Dom’s touch said, You don’t have to
be afraid. Part of Jesse calmed, his anxiety easing. He sucked in a sharp breath, his body
tingling. “Why the hell are you doing this?”
“Because you need it.”
Jesse’s eyes burned. No, he didn’t want Dom to pity him. “I don’t need it,” he choked.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t.” And Dom pressed his lips to Jesse’s temple, kissing him there.
All the thoughts rushed out of Jesse’s mind. “What—”
Dom kissed his temple again. This time, Jesse felt the warm brush of his lips, the
intimate touch. As though Jesse was important to him.
Jesse’s heart stumbled.
“I don’t see you any differently,” Dom rumbled. “If anything, I wish I’d been there to
stop it.”
Jesse’s stomach twisted. “So I wouldn’t become an omega?”
Dom sighed. “No. So you wouldn’t have to be in so much pain.”
He cupped the side of Jesse’s head, where the scars were. Then he stroked down Jesse’s
body, touching it all—his shoulders, his arm, his back. There were scars on every inch
of Jesse, and not once did Dom pull away in repulsion.
Instead, the friction sent butterflies down Jesse’s nerves. Jesse stilled, unsure what was
happening. Dom held him snugly, chest-to-chest, his warmth radiating into Jesse like
acceptance. He felt so good; Jesse wanted to lean in. Except it didn’t feel like something
an alpha should do.
“Sinclair,” Dom murmured, brushing his fingertips against Jesse’s nape. He pulled back
a little, looking into Jesse’s eyes—and there was a softness about his gaze that Jesse
hadn’t seen on him before. “I won’t blame you for cutting those beads out. And I don’t
care that you have a uterus, or whatever. It’s there. I know. But you’re still you.”
It sounded so damn sappy that Jesse knew he should say something, except he couldn’t.
“You’re still an alpha to me,” Dom murmured.
Jesse’s throat tightened. “Why?”
Dom shrugged. “Body parts don’t decide who you are.”

“But I have omega hormones. And—And that time I was here.” Jesse wet his lips, his
face heating up. He couldn’t bring himself to describe it all.
Dom only growled, pleased. “The best part about that night was that you’re an alpha.
And you let me have you.”
Jesse’s blush went all the way down his neck. “That just makes it weird, doesn’t it?”
“Just makes it hot.” Dom’s eyes darkened; he squeezed Jesse’s ass, slowly pressing him
against the counter. His was a heavy weight, demanding and firm. Through the thin
material of his sleeping shorts, Jesse felt the pressure of Dom’s bulge against his own.
Then Dom’s nostrils flared, like he was filling his lungs with Jesse’s scent.
Jesse couldn’t breathe, suddenly, when all he could see was Dom. He didn’t know what
this feeling was. It felt like an ocean wave in his chest, like something big building in his
body, something inevitable.
Despite everything Jesse had said to him over the years, despite Jesse being younger,
and broken—Dom had stopped judging him. Jesse still had problems with himself, but
Dom... accepted him. Dom looked into Jesse and saw him for who he was. And that was
incredible.
Jesse bowed his head before he could think; Dom pressed a damp kiss to his forehead.
Then he tipped Jesse’s face up, his gaze intent. “We meet as equals, Sinclair. You won’t
bow for me.”
Not like an omega, Dom didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.
Something fluttered in Jesse’s chest—something changed between them right then.
“I still hate you,” Jesse said.
Dom’s smile in return was fierce, savage. “Yeah, keep doing that.”
Then he leaned forward and crashed their lips together, and Jesse’s entire body pulled
tight, every single nerve lighting up.
S INCLAIR TASTED like soda and cookies. Dom slid into his mouth, drunk on his flavor. It
had been so long—too damn long—since he’d tasted this man, and he’d been starving.
Dom needed Sinclair beneath him, he needed Sinclair to gasp and groan, his face
scrunching up when Dom touched between his legs. When Dom slid inside him.
That thought made his throat go dry. He reached down, finding Sinclair hard behind
his sleeping shorts. Dom’s clothes. An answering hunger roared through his veins,
shooting straight to his cock.
Dom shoved Sinclair roughly against the counter and ground their hips together;
Sinclair swore, his cock jerking, his teeth scraping against Dom’s lower lip.
“Damn you,” Sinclair breathed, but there was no anger anywhere on him. Just an eager
sort of desire when he parted his lips, his tongue tangling with Dom’s in a sweet,
intoxicating dance.
Dom thrust into his mouth, savoring the groan that Sinclair couldn’t stifle in time.
“Yeah? You like it when I put things inside you?” Dom whispered.
Sinclair shivered. Dom thought those words might’ve reminded Sinclair of his past, but
Sinclair only tightened his fists in Dom’s clothes, yanking them closer. “I’m not gonna
beg,” Sinclair hissed.
Dom’s mouth curved in a dark smile; Sinclair’s aggression made his nerves hum like a
cello string. “On the contrary, Sinclair,” he whispered. “You will beg for my cock.”
“Fuck you,” Sinclair snarled, heaving Dom backward. Dom found his footing in time,
but his back met the fridge with a hard thump. Sinclair was there immediately, biting
down on Dom’s lower lip, forcefully enough to draw blood. Pain burst down Dom’s
body. Sinclair loved doing that, it seemed, when his eyes darkened and he dragged his
tongue over Dom’s bleeding lip. Then he bit a second time, leaving another mark.
Dom’s mouth throbbed.
“Maybe you ought to be punished,” Dom whispered, grasping Sinclair’s firm ass. It was
solid beneath his fingers, warm and inviting. Dom couldn’t help pushing his hand
down the back of Sinclair’s shorts.
Sinclair wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath. His ass was hot and smooth, and Dom
grasped it, spreading him open. So Sinclair could feel how exposed his hole was, and
how Dom would touch him there.
“Fuck,” Sinclair hissed, musk rolling off his skin.
“Yeah? You like when I open your ass?” Dom growled into his mouth. “Want
something big in there?”
Then he reached deeper and touched the pucker of Sinclair’s hole, pressing down
lightly on it. Such a sweet, tight entrance. Sinclair wheezed, his pupils blowing wide,
his breath punching out of him.
He’d reacted the same exact way when Dom fucked him the first time.
“Fuck, Sinclair.” Dom grew so hard, he ached. He swirled his finger around Sinclair’s
entrance, lightly tapping on it. So Sinclair knew where Dom had set his sights. Sinclair
groaned and swore, yanking on Dom’s clothes.
Except Dom removed his hand, bringing it up between them. He met Sinclair’s eyes.
“I’m not going back there tonight,” Dom whispered. “You want it, you’ll have to ask me
for it.”
Then, with Sinclair’s attention locked on him, Dom took his fingertip into his mouth,
tasting the very barest trace of Sinclair’s musk and dampness. It tasted like an omega’s
slick, but darker, earthier.
“I can’t believe you,” Sinclair hissed.
Dom only smiled. “I’ll lick your hole if you say ‘Please’.”
Sinclair exhaled in a slow, measured breath, his eyes burning. Like he wanted badly for
Dom to lick him, fuck him, but he wouldn’t let himself ask for it.
“No fucking way,” Sinclair muttered, every word low and forceful, vibrating against
Dom’s lips.
“Yeah, try to convince yourself. You’re getting there.” Dom flipped them around,
thumping Sinclair against the fridge, rutting their covered cocks together—flesh on
sensitive flesh. Pleasure jolted down his spine; Sinclair bared his teeth, his breathing
turning heavy. He was enjoying this, just as much as Dom was.
Sinclair planted his hands on Dom’s chest and shoved him off, hard. Before Dom could
regain his footing, Sinclair lunged at him, slamming him down onto the floor. The
impact jolted a dull pain through Dom’s body, along with the feral urge to strike back,
to own.
Dom forced himself to calm down. To see what Sinclair would do.
Sinclair straddled his hips, his eyes gleaming with part-hunger, part-dominance. He
wanted control over Dom—so Dom let him have a taste of it.
Sinclair rocked forward, shoving their covered cocks together. Bliss raked down Dom’s
spine; Sinclair groaned, shoving harder.
Weeks ago, Dom wasn’t even sure they would touch this intimately again. Except here
they were, Sinclair’s sleeping shorts a light gray, hiding absolutely nothing about the
thick length straining behind it. From the ridge along his underside, to the light press of
his tip, to the dark spot that was quickly spreading through the cotton.
Dom reached down, pinching Sinclair’s tip between his fingers. It was blunt like his
own, sensitive. And he raked his nail against the bundle of nerves under Sinclair’s head.
Sinclair arched and swore, knocking Dom’s hand away. “Fuck you.”
“That all you can say?” Dom smiled. And he reached back down, dragging his nail
against Sinclair’s tip, harder this time, until it almost became painful. Sinclair roared
and grabbed Dom’s hands, pinning them against the floor. “Seems like you can’t think
whenever you get horny,” Dom murmured.
“Yes, I can,” Sinclair hissed. He reached down to pull his cock out. In doing that, he
released Dom’s hand. Dom followed him down, rubbing Sinclair’s underside with a
slow, firm pressure. Sinclair’s eyelids fluttered shut, his breath puffing out. That, too,
was a good look—when he was unguarded.
Dom leaned up, pressing a kiss to Sinclair’s stubbled jaw. It was ticklish, a little rough.
Then he kissed down Sinclair’s throat, to his pulse point. Before Sinclair could react,
Dom closed his mouth around it and sucked, and Sinclair’s hips bucked.
“Fuck,” Sinclair hissed, his pulse hammering against Dom’s tongue.
Dom sank his teeth into Sinclair’s skin, almost biting him there. He wanted to leave his
mark on this man—Sinclair was wearing his clothes, and he had Dom’s blackwood
scent on him.
Mine, Dom’s instincts said. And an insane possessiveness flared to life in his veins.
He caught Sinclair’s knee, rolling him off. Before Sinclair could react, Dom bore down
on him, flattening Sinclair chest-down against the floor. And he shoved his covered
length against Sinclair’s ass, roughly enough that Sinclair felt every thrust.
Sinclair growled, grinding right back. Dom badly wanted to tear open those shorts and
plow inside.
“You’re gonna come like that, old man,” Sinclair hissed.
“Not before you come first.” Dom reached around, grasping Sinclair’s velvety cock. He
was even harder than before.
Sinclair didn’t smell the same tonight. His musk was strong, but not quite as strong as
that first day. And Dom wasn’t going into a rut.
Maybe... Sinclair had really been in heat, that time.
He wasn’t in heat now. So he didn’t have that excuse for the decisions he made tonight.
Dom kept a firm grip on Sinclair’s arousal. Then he pumped it, good and hard, the way
he liked to pleasure himself. Sinclair hissed, precome smearing onto Dom’s fingers.
“The fuck are you doing?” Sinclair thrashed against him.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dom cupped his balls roughly. Then he tightened
his fist around Sinclair’s cock and tugged, flicking his wrist at the very tip. Sinclair
panted, growing thicker, his chest heaving. It felt like he was close, and Dom wasn’t
even inside him yet.
So Dom rolled them onto their sides. He wrapped his leg around Sinclair’s thigh,
forcing his knees apart. Then he reached down, grasped Sinclair’s shorts, and tore it
open at his crotch. So he had direct access to Sinclair’s hole.
He reached into his ruined shorts, pressing down firmly against Sinclair’s taint—a
pressure that would go right into Sinclair’s prostate.
Sinclair threw his head back and groaned, spreading his legs wider. An invitation.
Dom’s instincts snarled. “Remember the words,” Dom rasped in his ear. “‘Donut’. And
if you want this in your ass—” he rocked his bulge against Sinclair’s crack “—the word
is ‘Please.’”
“Get the hell away,” Sinclair spat, at the same time he ground his ass against Dom’s
cock, a sweet pressure that wasn’t enough.
Dom yanked his belt open, his patience wearing thin. He undid his fly. Pushed down
his underwear so his cock shoved out, flushed and straining.
It would look so good, opening Sinclair’s hole.
“It’s out,” Dom whispered, tugging up Sinclair’s shirt to expose his lower back. Then he
rubbed his tip down Sinclair’s spine, and lifted it away.
Sinclair stopped completely with his thrashing. Dom smiled wider. Sinclair wanted
more, didn’t he?
So Dom leaned in and murmured, “This is what it feels like.”
And he let it brush, ever so lightly, against Sinclair’s ass, the torn scrap of cotton the
only thing keeping them apart. Over and over, Dom caressed Sinclair’s crack with his
tip, a brief, light touch, a slow slide that they both knew wasn’t anywhere close to how
hard Dom could fuck.
Dom closed his mouth around Sinclair’s earring, sucking lightly on it. “I haven’t come
in a while. It’s thick and creamy if you want it. Straight from my—” he eased his tip into
the tear of Sinclair’s shorts, his skin tingling where he caressed Sinclair’s taint “—
spout.”
Sinclair’s breath rushed out. He reared up and threw Dom off his back, whirling around
to shove Dom flat against the floor.
Dom’s blood thrummed twice as hot in his veins. “Playing rough, are we?”
“Never gonna be easy, Dom,” Sinclair snarled.
He reached down and grasped Dom’s pants, ripping his clothes all the way down to his
ankles. Then he flipped Dom over, so Dom’s ass faced up. Quicker than anything,
Sinclair grasped Dom’s cheeks, spreading them.
He spat. A touch of warmth landed between Dom’s cheeks, trickling all the way down
to his hole.
Dom’s cock ached. Sinclair had put forth a challenge. And now Sinclair grasped his
flushed cock, getting ready to claim Dom. But Dom didn’t have plans for being on that
end tonight.
Before Sinclair could mount him, Dom flipped himself around and thrust his fingers
between Sinclair’s thighs, under his balls and against his taint, forcing them right
against his hole.
“Not so easy, Sinclair,” Dom growled. He tapped there, pushing Sinclair’s cheeks apart.
Then he ground his fingers against Sinclair’s entrance, hard enough to remind Sinclair
of what he really wanted.
Sinclair narrowed his eyes. His hole fluttered, though, reacting to Dom’s touch. And his
resistance wavered.
Dom snatched the chance to tackle Sinclair onto his back. Sinclair swore and shoved at
him; Dom knocked Sinclair’s legs apart, holding them open with his own body.
“That was cheating,” Sinclair growled, but there was no mistaking the musk that rolled
off his skin. Especially when Dom caught his knees and shoved them open, so Sinclair
lay spread for him—like a feast.
Dom licked his lips, his mouth bone-dry. He dug his fingers into Sinclair’s shirt and
ripped it open, exposing his scarred abs and pecs. All lovely.
“Say it,” Dom murmured. “‘Donut’, or ‘please’.”
“Not gonna.” Sinclair glowered.
That expression looked so sweet on him. Especially when Dom grasped either side of
his shorts and ripped it clean in half, letting it hang open around his cock and balls, and
his tight ass. Dom groaned. Sinclair reared up to gain control. Dom had to throw
himself bodily onto Sinclair to hold him down.
Sinclair’s breath puffed onto his face; his warmth soaked into Dom’s skin. “You’re such
a bastard.”
“Yeah?” Dom smiled, rubbing his fingertips between Sinclair’s asscheeks—enough for
Sinclair to know he was there, but not close enough to touch his hole. “I could be even
more of one.”
He pressed light kisses down Sinclair’s chest. Uncharacteristic of him, he knew. But he
wanted to give Sinclair something soft, too. At Sinclair’s nipples, Dom sucked hard.
Sinclair gritted his teeth, his chest heaving.
Then he trailed kisses down the side of Sinclair’s abs, ignoring the big scar for now.
Yeah, Sinclair had a uterus. There was that. But more important was the baby that Dom
had put in him—he’d marked Sinclair inside. And that made this alpha his.
Dom couldn’t stop the roaring in his chest whenever he thought about it. He couldn’t
help the need to fucking claim Sinclair, so thoroughly that Sinclair wouldn’t
acknowledge anyone, but Dom, as his alpha.
He kissed down until Sinclair’s cock smeared precome against his chin. Then he kissed
its tip, and took it into his mouth.
Sinclair swore, his spine arching, his fingers shoving into Dom’s hair.
Dom pulled away, surprised by his reaction. “Have you... never received a blowjob?”
Sinclair didn’t answer, but his flush betrayed him.
Oh, Dom loved popping his cherries.
He shoved Sinclair’s thighs open and kissed down his cock. It was musky, heavy, ever
so silky when Dom licked it—a soft touch all the way to his tip. Sinclair tensed, surprise
flashing through his eyes. Dom lapped up his precome, all salty and slippery—it would
go perfectly inside his hole. He swallowed what Sinclair leaked, taking that blunt tip
past his lips. Then he hollowed his cheeks, letting Sinclair dip in and out of his mouth,
just playing with that sensitive flesh.
It wasn’t even much. But the way Sinclair cursed, his breathing turning ragged... With
every touch, his chest heaved, his balls pulling tight. Dom took him deeper; Sinclair
groaned, precome squirting onto Dom’s tongue.
He was such a virgin. Dom hadn’t realized this earlier. Now, he was so damn pleased
he’d found out.
He grasped Sinclair’s cock and sucked hard. Sinclair arched clean off the floor. “Fuck,
fuck—”
He was panting, his hands fisted in Dom’s hair, his cock so thick that he’d blow right
past the edge if Dom kept it up.
So Dom gave him a sweet, slow suck, and let Sinclair slide out of his mouth. It left with
a soft pop, all glistening and lewd—so fucking desperate. Dom’s balls tightened, his
cock throbbed.
Sinclair squirmed, a low, soft sound escaping his throat. There was vulnerability in his
eyes now, a sort of pleading that told Dom he was close to breaking.
Dom stood, stepping out of his pants. “That’s all for tonight. See yourself out the door.”
“What the fuck,” Sinclair breathed.
Dom shrugged. “I told you the words.”
He headed for his bedroom. Six steps in, Sinclair gasped, “Dom.”
Dom’s balls ached, they needed to empty into Sinclair so badly. Instead, he held still.
Even though he needed to see the look on Sinclair’s face.
He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside. “Don’t waste my time, Sinclair.”
Silence stretched between them, punctuated by Sinclair’s sharp breaths. Dom

swallowed hard.
Truthfully, he was going to kick himself if Sinclair upped and left.
But he wanted Sinclair to ask. He wanted to know that Sinclair needed him enough to
beg. Dom began to leave again, making each step slow and deliberate—giving Sinclair
time.
It was only when he was almost to his bedroom, that Sinclair said, so quietly Dom
almost didn’t hear him, “Please.”
That single word sent blood pounding through Dom’s veins like a storm surge. He
turned, fighting the instinct to lunge. To bowl Sinclair over and have him, right now.
Dom held his ground, meeting Sinclair’s eyes—Sinclair was on his feet, shoulders stiff,
his expression wary, doubtful.
He would submit to Dom tonight. And Dom would make it worth his while.
Dom jerked his chin toward his bedroom, flicking on the lights. He was almost to his
bed, when Sinclair tackled him from behind, sending him crashing face-down onto the
mattress.
“I told you it was gonna be hard,” Sinclair hissed in his ear, grinding his cock between
Dom’s asscheeks.
Something shifted in Dom’s chest—something that changed the way he saw Sinclair.
Dom loved a challenge. Jesse Sinclair... exceeded all his expectations, each one more
than the previous. And Dom couldn’t get enough of him.
He twisted around in Sinclair’s arms, meeting his eyes. And the smile curving his lips
was every bit as dangerous as the weapon Sinclair had been turned into.
“You don’t scare me,” Dom whispered.
Sinclair growled and crashed their lips together, sliding into Dom’s mouth. He surged
inside, claiming wherever he touched, a rough, hungry presence that drew a groan
from Dom’s throat. Dom bit hard on Sinclair’s lip, hard enough to leave his own mark.
Then he thrust his tongue into Sinclair’s mouth, tangling their tongues, electricity
pumping through his veins with every touch.
“Damn,” Sinclair breathed.
Dom broke the kiss and pushed two fingers into Sinclair’s mouth. “Suck on them. Get
them good and wet.”
Sinclair groaned, the sound vibrating into Dom’s body. But he obeyed, sucking on
them—gently at first, then harder and harder, until each tug felt like how Sinclair’s hole
would wrap around Dom’s cock. Dom’s balls grew heavy; fuck if he could wait much
longer.
He withdrew his fingers and reached down, shoving them between Sinclair’s cheeks.
No warning. Just a quick thrust against Sinclair’s hole, forcefully enough that he almost
pushed inside.
“‘Donut’, Sinclair,” Dom rasped, his cock so hard, he couldn’t think. “Last chance.”
“Fuck you,” Sinclair hissed, shoving Dom hard against the mattress.
“Not tonight.” And Dom thrust his fingers into Sinclair, two at once, stretching his hole
open.
He was hot inside. Tight like before. Dom groaned, pushing his fingers all the way in,
savoring the way Sinclair’s body yielded to him, the way he was hot like a furnace
inside.
Sinclair groaned, his jaw going slack. Dom didn’t wait. He found Sinclair’s prostate and
thrust against it, rough, deep strokes that had Sinclair tensing, his eyes rolling back, his
cock so red, it looked volatile.
Dom pushed a third finger in, dry. Then a fourth. Sinclair jerked against him, but he
took it anyway, his thighs spreading, his hips rolling, as though he was searching for
more. And the animal need in Dom clawed against his ribs, needing to be set free.
Sinclair was barely damp enough for Dom’s fingers—not much more than that. Dom
slammed Sinclair down onto the mattress, grabbing the lube from his nightstand. Then
he squirted too much onto his palm, slicked up his cock, and shoved Sinclair’s knee
against the mattress. This left Sinclair’s ass open for him, clad in the rags of Dom’s
sleeping shorts, that small, tight pucker a beacon for Dom’s hunger.
“Not gonna,” Sinclair hissed, shaking Dom’s grip off his leg.
He rolled around onto his front and began prowling away, and holy fuck that view of
his ass.
Dom ripped the rest of the shorts off, leaving Sinclair naked from the waist down. Then
he lunged at Sinclair, shoving him forward on the mattress, forcing his shoulders down
onto the bed. Leaving his ass in the air.
Open, just for Dom.
Dom knocked Sinclair’s knees apart. Spreading him further. So there was absolutely
nothing between himself and Sinclair’s tiny hole—only air.
“‘Donut’,” Dom whispered.
Sinclair turned and spat at Dom over his shoulder; Dom’s instincts broke free. He
grasped his cock and lunged, shoving his tip hard against Sinclair’s entrance. Then he
snapped his hips, and his entire cock sank inside, opening Sinclair’s body in one swift
stroke.
Beneath, Sinclair roared, his spine arching, his body taking all of Dom.
Dom couldn’t stop. He thought briefly about it, letting Sinclair adjust to him. But
Sinclair was sweet inside, blissfully tight, and Dom thrust into him once, twice, every
slide sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine.
“Should I stop?” Dom growled. Then he plunged viciously into Sinclair, forcing Sinclair
forward on the mattress.
“Fuck you,” Sinclair bristled.
“Gotta say something better. Or are you so busy taking my cock, that you can’t think of
anything else?” Dom patted his ass. Then he grasped Sinclair’s hips and began a harsh
rhythm, one that made his instincts snarl, because now he was really owning Sinclair,
plowing inside him, spreading him open over and over, their hips slapping together,
Sinclair’s body sucking so tight around him, like he couldn’t get enough of Dom’s cock.
With each thrust, Dom felt as though this alpha was more of his. When Sinclair panted
and shoved his head down, and he spread his thighs, not looking at Dom at all. But his
hole continued to cling around Dom’s cock, sucking on him, so tight that Dom couldn’t
hold on much longer.
He reached down, grasping Sinclair by his cock and balls. “Come for me.”
“No,” Sinclair hissed.

But he was throbbing against Dom’s palm, thick and slippery with precome. Dom tried
to aim for Sinclair’s prostate. Sinclair swore and arched, his fingers digging into the bed,
his neck flushed, his entire body shaking with how much he was trying to hold back.
And Dom increased his rhythm, pounding in punishingly hard. It was all he could do
to hold on, instead of taunting the man beneath him.
Sinclair’s voice broke, suddenly. And the feeling of him coming apart, the feeling of him
clenching and shuddering, because Dom had caused it—it hauled Dom over the edge in
a violent burst of pleasure, white-washing his vision. He felt himself empty into
Sinclair, pulse by pulse, leaving his mark inside this man.
For a brief moment, Dom had the crazy thought that maybe this could be permanent.
That he could have an alpha who challenged him like Sinclair did, and it would make
him happy.
He brushed the scent glands on his wrists down Sinclair’s chest, then down his arms
and thighs, marking him with blackwood. It didn’t even occur to him that he was doing
it, until he smelled his scent on Sinclair’s skin.
Danger, his instincts said.
And Dom pressed Sinclair down against the mattress, growling when his knot began to
swell inside this alpha. His.
“My knot, Sinclair. Tell me you don’t want it, before it’s too late to pull out.”
Sinclair’s only response was a bitten-off groan, his body fluttering around Dom’s knot.
He would take it all, then. Dom’s instincts rumbled louder.
They panted against each other, catching their breaths, Dom on top of Sinclair, his knot
growing so full, it stretched Sinclair inside. And locked them together. Sinclair grunted
and sighed—surprisingly mellow a reaction, for someone who had never received a
knot before.
“Did you sleep with someone else?” Dom asked, possessiveness rumbling in his chest.
“Between that time and now.”
Sinclair stiffened, his back tensing against Dom’s chest. “Why’re you asking?”
“Because you didn’t even fight with me over my knot.”
Pink tinted the tips of Sinclair’s ears. “Fuck off.”

Dom smiled. Sinclair did want it, then. Enough that he wasn’t even going to risk
pushing Dom away. “How’s it feel?”
This time, Sinclair turned, frowning over his shoulder. “Why’re you so chatty
suddenly?”
Dom weighed his words, his heart pattering. “Because we’re going to be stuck together
for the next half-hour. And I want to know you better.”
Wariness filled Sinclair’s gaze; he studied Dom, trying to figure if Dom was lying. At
length, he muttered, “No.”
“No to what?” Dom leaned closer, his skin tingling when their bodies rubbed together.
“No other bed partners? Just me?”
He kissed Sinclair’s shoulder—just a light touch, but he never once broke their gaze.
Sinclair flushed such a bright red that Dom’s heart missed a beat.
Sinclair hadn’t been with anyone else. He’d even let Dom take his knotting cherry.
Dom had to lean in. He cupped Sinclair’s jaw and kissed him on the lips, slow and
deliberate—just a slide of skin on skin. Then, a firm press. So their mouths met fully, an
intimate touch.
The way a person should be kissed. Dom’s heart pounded more frantically than the last
few times he’d kissed Sinclair, because this wasn’t about sex at all.
Sinclair stiffened, his breath snagging. “The hell?”
Oh, he got flustered so easily.
So Dom kissed him again. Just a chaste kiss. “Never been kissed before, Sinclair?”
“I have,” Sinclair spluttered.
Except he was still blushing when Dom kissed him a third time. Dom couldn’t stop. He
wanted to see Sinclair blush, over and over. It delighted all of his instincts.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sinclair muttered. But he wasn’t even pulling away.
“Kissing you,” Dom answered. Then he kissed Sinclair again, on his lips, then his
shoulder, then across his back.
“If this is you playing a trick on me,” Sinclair muttered, scowling, his eyes filled with
such a mix of emotions—wariness, dread, disbelief—that Dom needed to hold him
close.
“No tricks.” Dom nuzzled his shoulder blade. “You know me.”
Sinclair seemed to hesitate. Then he relaxed against Dom, burying his face against the
mattress. “Oh.”
And his blush didn’t recede at all.
So maybe they liked each other. Sinclair couldn’t say it, but that was fine. Dom couldn’t,
either.
He settled for dropping kisses across Sinclair’s shoulders, then up the nape of his neck.
He slid his arm against Sinclair’s chest, just holding him there.
It felt so strange to be intimate with another alpha. With Mal, Dom had to be careful not
to hurt him, because Mal had been fragile. Sinclair was... kind of the same. But
mentally. Physically, he seemed to be able to take anything Dom threw at him.
So that was nice. Dom liked the change. He liked lying on top of Sinclair, and not
worrying about crushing him. He liked slamming Sinclair against walls, and getting
arousal in return. It felt like he could be an absolute animal around Sinclair, and Sinclair
wouldn’t break at all.
“Why’d you give me the donuts?” Sinclair muttered. “You didn’t even say they were
from you. What was I supposed to think?”
He glanced away as though he was embarrassed, except it only made him kind of...
adorable. Dom growled, kissing his jaw. “Wanted to see you eat them.”
That was half the truth. It had started on a whim: Dom had stopped at Ben’s Buns for
breakfast one day, and Ben had brought out a tray of chocolate donuts. Dom had gotten
a sudden nagging urge to see how Sinclair would react to one of those on his locker.
What Dom hadn’t expected was the way Sinclair ripped into the donut like an animal,
and the surprise on his face when he’d tasted it. It had disappeared in seconds. Right
after, Sinclair had licked his fingers, glancing at the bag like maybe there might be a
second one in there.
Out of curiosity, Dom had changed up the donut flavor the next week.
“So when I gave York that strawberry one...”
Dom growled. “So pissed.”
Sinclair grinned. “I can actually piss you off?”
“You’d better not give those donuts away.”

“Maybe,” Sinclair said, looking rebellious. “You could’ve told me they were from you.”
“You would’ve thrown them straight in the trash,” Dom said.
“Well.” Sinclair looked at the mattress, but Dom knew he would’ve. It was only when
they’d become a habit, when he’d caught Sinclair looking at his locker every time he
stepped into the locker room, that Dom knew he’d started something he couldn’t stop.
Not that he could stop, when Sinclair had become so possessive of those donuts. He’d
made sure to eat them in front of Dom every single time, he’d sucked the chocolate off
his fingers, and more often than not, he’d given Dom a hard-on that Dom had to find
some way to hide.
Then there were the secret smiles whenever Sinclair dug into a new donut bag. The look
of bliss when he rolled the chocolate through his mouth. Because Dom had given him
something he liked.
Because he was eating Dom’s donuts.
Dom had made Sinclair smile, and he hadn’t expected to want to see it again, until
Sinclair had hit him in the gut with it.
So maybe Dom just liked to see him smile. It didn’t have to mean anything.
It most certainly hadn’t caused Dom to go into a rut.
“Did you sleep at all?” Sinclair asked. “You didn’t change out of your clothes since you
got back.”
Dom looked away. No, he hadn’t. He’d been staying awake just in case Sinclair woke
and he needed something. But he wasn’t telling Sinclair that.
The fire alarm rang, a loud, shrill sound that made Sinclair jump, tightening around
Dom. Dom didn’t have the time to savor it, though.
“There’s a fire?” he asked. The stove wasn’t on. He had no faulty appliances in the
house.
Sinclair looked just as confused. Then, dread flickered through his gaze. “I was—I was
boiling potatoes.”
J ESSE SCRAMBLED , hoping that the fire was still a small one. Shit, shit, shit. I forgot to turn
off the stove.
Dom had let him sleep over, and this was what he did.
“It’s fine,” Dom said behind him. “Just a small fire.”
“You don’t know that.” Gods, Jesse didn’t want Dom to start judging him again. For
burning a pot of potatoes, of all things.
But Dom just leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “At worst, we’ll step outside. Let the
station guys put it out.”
Easy for him to say, when he wasn’t the one being knotted. Jesse tried to scramble off
the bed, groaning when Dom’s knot tugged inside him. Pleasure hummed through his
veins. That knot was thick, heavy, and it pressed inside him with every movement he
made—reminding him of exactly where they were joined. And how Jesse had let Dom
fuck him again.
Stop thinking about that, he told himself. Focus on the fire.
Dom moved slower than him, though. That didn’t help when Jesse needed to be in the
kitchen right this instant. He tugged on the knot, trying to make Dom hurry. Instead,
Dom wrapped a sturdy arm around his waist, anchoring them together. “Don’t run off.
I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Then move faster, old man!” Jesse scowled.
Dom slapped his thigh—a light jolt of pain. It wasn’t much, but the shock was enough
to turn his thoughts sideways. It didn’t feel good.
Dom immediately pressed his palm against the stinging spot, rubbing it. “Sorry.”
Jesse shook it off and tugged Dom across the room. Bad enough that they couldn’t
move like they would with an ordinary fire. Every step involved them shuffling
together, Dom’s cock wedged inside Jesse—decadent and so wrong.
When they finally stepped into the hallway, Jesse could see that some smoke had
escaped the kitchen, but not so much. Like Dom had said, it was just a small fire.
“Extinguisher’s in the corner,” Dom murmured.
Yeah, Jesse had seen it. He had one in his own kitchen, too. Just in case.
In the kitchen, they headed over to the stove, where orange flames flickered in the pot
of potatoes. Jesse’s heart sank. He pressed the lever on the extinguisher. Fire retardant
hissed out of the nozzle, blanketing the pot and stove.
The fire sputtered out. In its place was a mess of burnt potatoes, and the stovetop that
had been so clean before this. Jesse sighed. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dom took the extinguisher from him, setting it aside. Then he
turned off the stove, shuffled them across the kitchen, and threw open the windows. He
reset the fire alarm, too.
Jesse shuffled them back, grabbing a roll of paper towels. Dom took the paper towels
away. Jesse glared over his shoulder. “My fuck-up, Dom. I can handle it.”
Dom sighed and shrugged, handing the towels back. “You’re a guest, but fine.”
He stood with Jesse, though, wrapping his arm lightly around Jesse’s waist. While Jesse
wiped down the stove, Dom nuzzled his nape. Jesse almost dropped the paper towels.
“Why’re you being like this?” he muttered. Then he could’ve kicked himself—he
wanted more kisses from Dom. He didn’t know how to ask for them, though. And he
wasn’t going to kiss Dom himself. He didn’t want to seem desperate.
“Being like what?” Dom asked. He kissed Jesse’s neck again, a soft, damp touch.
Jesse tingled all over. In his time after the Facility, he’d slept around a bit, just to see
what all the fuss about intimacy was about. But he’d never been kissed like that before.
Nothing soft and gentle and sweet, like Dom had given him tonight. For no reason at
all.
“I’m not an omega,” Jesse said, his voice snagging in his throat. He remembered his
dad, who had been so proud when Jesse presented as alpha. Dad had bought him a cake
with Super Alpha on it, and they’d taken pictures with Mom and Jesse’s sister, Kelly.
“You don’t have to be an omega to get kisses like that.” And Dom kissed him again.
Jesse’s heart thudded so fervently, he thought he might’ve gotten palpitations.
Dom was just... Dom. Dom had given him donuts. So many of them. He’d held Jesse
through his episodes, he’d given Jesse all these kisses. Jesse shouldn’t want his lips all
over. He shouldn’t want Dom’s kisses to mean more.
He shouldn’t want Dom to treat him like he was important.
“I think it’s finally receding,” Dom murmured. He grasped Jesse’s hips, slowly tugging
on his knot. It had gone down slightly, but there was enough of a bump that it couldn’t
leave Jesse’s body easily.
Gods, he’d let Dom knot inside him. And it had felt like the best sort of belonging in the
world. It still did.
When Dom’s knot went down... would he stop the kisses? Jesse didn’t want to find out.
“Something wrong?” Dom asked. He leaned closer, his breath warm on Jesse’s neck.
“You keep tensing around me.”
Damn it. Dom could feel that? Jesse flushed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Dryly, “You forget that I’ve watched you for three years, Sinclair. Something’s wrong.”
Part of Jesse didn’t want to risk saying anything. The other part wanted to just let go,
and blurt out all his dark, guilty thoughts. It wasn’t as though he had any dignity left.
He’d raised his ass for Dom. He’d begged Dom to fuck him.
But asking for kisses... that was a whole ‘nother ball game. He swallowed. Then he
waited until Dom’s knot had fully receded, when there wasn’t any chance of Dom being
intimate again, before he said, “The kisses.”
Dom slid out, leaving an aching emptiness inside Jesse. Then he turned Jesse around,
meeting his eyes. “What about the kisses?”
Jesse’s face burned, betraying him. His tongue stopped working.
Dom studied him—still no judgment. But there was the hint of a smile on his lips.
Fondness? “You want more?”
Something on Jesse’s face must’ve given him away, because Dom leaned in, brushing
their lips together. A light touch, soft enough to be a promise. Jesse’s heart stopped.
And Dom kissed him again. He didn’t once pull away, only drawing Jesse closer, their
breaths mingling, his warmth radiating into Jesse’s chest.
“Enough?” Dom murmured.
No, it wasn’t.
Dom huffed—he sounded amused. Before Jesse could feel embarrassed, Dom kissed
him again. And again. He brushed his thumb along Jesse’s jaw and cradled his face.
When their lips met this time, it was the slightest movement—just an exchange of
breath.
It was the most intimate thing Jesse had ever done with anyone.
He wanted this to go on forever.
Unnerved, Jesse yanked himself away. “You didn’t lick me,” he blurted. Because at least
that was an argument. Arguments were familiar.
Dom laughed, running his fingers down Jesse’s forearm. “Yeah? You wanted me to lick
your hole, too?”
What would that feel like?
“Next time,” Dom murmured, kissing Jesse’s jaw. “I promise.”
But he reached down, easing his fingers between Jesse’s cheeks, searching out his hole.
Dom stroked Jesse there, a light touch—so different from his earlier savageness—and it
made all of Jesse’s nerves tingle.
Why did it always have to feel so damn good?
Dom smiled, letting his touch linger. Jesse didn’t know what had happened to make
Dom’s aggression disappear. He didn’t know how to act around a Dom who liked
kissing him. “What changed?” Jesse asked. “Why’re you being nice?”
Dom hesitated. “Because you haven’t had anyone be nice to you.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Jesse scowled. “I don’t need it. I’m an alpha, Dom. I’m
not fragile.”
Dom was quiet for a while, unfazed. “Sure. Are you going to walk out right now? No
more hugs or kisses. We can do that.”
Panic slithered through Jesse’s veins. No, he hadn’t meant for that. How did he undo it?
Before he could say a thing, Dom cracked a smile. Then he hauled Jesse close and
hugged him tight, strong arms against Jesse’s back. A warm, comforting pressure that
Jesse couldn’t have enough of.
“Nah,” Dom whispered. “I won’t do that to you.”
Jesse was so relieved, he almost had tears in his eyes. Almost.
He blinked hard and swallowed, sniffing at the sweat and blackwood on Dom’s skin.
They were both naked, save for the torn shirt on Jesse’s back. The last time they’d stood
together like this, it had been back in the locker room shower. “What’s with your
kitchen, anyway?” Jesse muttered. “Why the hell don’t you have knives?”
Dom had been stroking Jesse’s back, but he paused. When Jesse leaned away to study
him, he found an odd, unreadable expression on Dom’s face.
“Precautions,” Dom said guardedly.
“Against what?”
Dom didn’t answer; instead, he glanced down. He was looking at Jesse’s abdomen—at
the scar.
“Tell me you haven’t thought about cutting it out.” Dom’s voice was quiet.
An oily disgust filled Jesse’s throat. “You can’t be serious.”
Dom knew how much Jesse hated what Larson had done to his body. He’d been to the
medical center, he’d seen what they’d implanted inside him. And that look on his
face—he wanted Jesse to hold onto that suffering? To relive it, over and over? There
he’d thought Dom accepted him. “I’m not your experiment,” Jesse snarled, yanking
himself away. “I just want to be fucking normal, for once!”
“That’s my baby in there,” Dom growled back. “Ours.”
“So you want me to—to keep this thing. For real.” Jesse felt like throwing up again.
“Just for now.” Dom narrowed his eyes. “Seven more months, Sinclair. What you do
with it after that, I don’t care.”
At the back of his mind, a voice said that Dom wasn’t being unreasonable. But Jesse just
felt betrayed, used. Shame crept up his neck, and he couldn’t meet Dom’s eyes. “I’m
leaving,” Jesse said. Fuck all this about hugs and kisses. He didn’t need them from
Dom.
He left the kitchen, yanking on his clothes in the bedroom. Then he stormed out
through the front door, letting it slam behind him.
S O THEY WERE BACK to not talking again. Dom pulled into the station, rubbing his face.
He hadn’t been sleeping well these past three weeks.
Nothing he’d tried worked. He’d put himself and Sinclair on a couple of calls alone,
he’d tried sending Sinclair some texts. He’d even left a voice message. But he wasn’t
sorry, and he most certainly wasn’t about to grovel for forgiveness.
That was his baby. He wasn’t the one carrying it, which gave him less of a say. But they
had been in his house, his kitchen, and he’d had the right to remove all those knives. So
Sinclair wouldn’t do something he’d regret.
It unnerved Dom, the idea that Sinclair might’ve stabbed himself to carve out that
uterus. Dom didn’t want to find him bleeding somewhere, passed out because he’d lost
too much blood.
He hoped Sinclair knew that.
It wasn’t just the bleeding, though. Vaguely, he acknowledged that it was unreasonable
to ask Sinclair to keep the baby. Sinclair had been through more horrors than Dom
could imagine. Years of torture. Having his body cut open, over and over. Being given
organs he didn’t ask for.
Dom had no right to ask Sinclair to prolong his suffering, especially if it triggered his
flashbacks.
So... their baby. Could that possibly justify another seven months of episodes? When
each flashback filled Sinclair with so much panic?
Could Sinclair’s body handle a full-term pregnancy? What if it couldn’t? Was Dom
willing to put Sinclair’s life at risk?
No, he wasn’t.
So maybe he was sorry that he’d gone and said all that to Sinclair. Maybe he shouldn’t
have.
He sighed, climbing out of his truck. In the kitchen, he sat down heavily. Gareth and
Harris both stared at him. “What?” he muttered.
“You look really lovesick,” Gareth said.

“Or maybe you just have a stick up your ass,” Harris added.
Dom flipped them off. He hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy. It wasn’t his body.
Sinclair wasn’t even showing yet. Perhaps he would in a couple more weeks—Dom
didn’t know. Would his pregnancy follow the usual milestones?
“It’s complicated,” he said.
“You said the same thing a few weeks ago.” Gareth handed him a mug of coffee. “Sex
doesn’t cure anything, huh?”
“No, it just creates more problems,” Dom muttered. “Like breeding rabbits.” Harris
raised an eyebrow.
It was possible that neither of them would believe him, even if he told them. But Dom
was tired of being the only person in this situation, with no one who understood.
“Suppose you accidentally knocked someone up,” he said.
“Been there, done that,” Gareth said dryly.
“Even have the free T-shirt,” Harris added.
At least they’d knocked up omegas. Dom sighed, giving them a flat look.
“Wait.” Gareth looked hard at Dom, before glancing out the kitchen door. “You don’t
mean... It’s not possible.”
“You talked to Nate, right?” Dom scowled. Gareth was probably the one who had dug
up the most information about Sinclair.
Gareth stared. And all the amusement evaporated from his face. “No way.”
Dom turned his mug around on itself, thinking maybe he should’ve gone and bought a
donut. Or maybe ten of them. “I want the baby. He doesn’t. Bear in mind he didn’t ask
for this ability.”
Harris winced. “So... Is he keeping it?”
“I wouldn’t look like this if I knew, Harris.”
“So... what happens if he keeps it?” Gareth asked. “In a few months, he’s gonna get big.
Have you talked to him about it?”
“Hell, no.” Dom rubbed his temples. Knocking Sinclair up, and then putting him on
forced vacation? Sinclair would hate his guts forever.
“I’ll take the hit for you,” Harris said. “Perks of being team captain.”
Dom rolled his eyes. “My fault, Harris. I’ll do it.”
Even though it made his stomach twist.
As if on cue, the soft hum of a bike engine seeped into the station. Dom heard it before
his friends did—he’d grown sensitive to that sound. His heart thudded. These days, he
almost knew exactly how long it took for Sinclair to step in. Pulling off his helmet,
putting it away, grabbing his duffel.
Dom waited. Sure enough, footsteps thudded closer—Sinclair had to pass through the
kitchen, even though there was another way into the locker room.
The moment he stepped in, Dom’s skin prickled. As always, Sinclair’s presence felt like
a surge of electricity. He was there, and Dom could taste Sinclair in the cinnamon-
scented air he filled his lungs with. There was a trace of honey, too. Now that Dom
knew to look for it, he smelled it every time.
“Morning, Harris, Gareth,” Sinclair rumbled.
Then he stalked off into the locker room, and Harris and Gareth both stared at Dom.
Yeah, Dom would’ve preferred not to let them witness that.
“Fix it,” Harris said. “I know it hasn’t affected the team’s performance, but it’s not a
good example.”
Dom sighed again.
When Sinclair stalked back into the kitchen, he had his usual burrito with him. Gareth
glanced sidelong at his abdomen, sniffing; Dom kicked Gareth’s ankles surreptitiously.
Sinclair took a seat at the other end of the table—as far away from Dom as he could.
Which grated on Dom’s nerves; he wanted that alpha. He wanted Sinclair closer. And
he was so damn tired of them fighting, when he knew how Sinclair reacted to his kisses.
When Sinclair stiffened up at his hugs, leaning closer, as though he was afraid to let
himself enjoy something he craved.
“No donut today?” Dom asked.
Sinclair unwrapped his burrito with a vengeance, not looking at Dom at all. “It’s just
sugar. I don’t need it.”
Fact was, Dom hadn’t been leaving donuts on his locker since the day they’d fought. For
one, Sinclair was still nauseous. For another, Dom wanted Sinclair to ask for them. He
wanted Sinclair to need him, even now.
“Funny you should say that,” Dom answered. “I’ve seen you inhale them.”
Red crept up Sinclair’s cheeks. “I’m on a diet.”
“So if ten of them were to show up on your locker...”
“It’s not like they will, anyway,” Sinclair snapped, his lower lip jutting out. Dom
wanted to kiss him so badly. He wanted Sinclair to look at him, just once.
“Yeah? You’re asking for them?”
“So what if I am?”
There it was. A sign that he still wanted Dom, on some level. Dom’s heart quickened.
And maybe... it didn’t matter what Dom had to do, as long as Sinclair would look at
him again.
Maybe that made it groveling.
“You sound just like an old married couple.” Gareth sipped from his mug.
Sinclair tensed, staring hard at his burrito.
“Fuck off, Gareth,” Dom muttered. They hadn’t even been together long enough to
think about that. Hell, they weren’t even dating. So he stood, heading out. There was
time before the shift started. More if he hurried.
He drove to Ben’s Buns, where Sinclair’s favorite donuts came from. Today, Dom didn’t
even bother with a butt-shaped tray and tongs. He slid the whole rack of donuts out of
the display case, and brought them to the cashier.
Ben was a thin omega, all sweet and cheerful. Alec’s fiancé. Sometimes, he reminded
Dom of Mal—needing protection. When Ben saw the donuts, his mouth fell open. “You
could’ve put in an advance order if you wanted more.”
Dom shrugged sheepishly. “No time. It’s an apology.”
“Oh.” Ben grinned. “How is Jesse?”
Dom wasn’t sure how Ben knew who the donuts were for, but it didn’t matter. “He’s
pissed.”
Ben winced. “Well, I hope this works out. Would you like them in a box?”
Dom had him wrap a few in individual bags. The rest went into a pastry box. Then, he
drove back to the station—five minutes late for work.
The guys were all in the kitchen now; no one had started any meetings, which was
good. Or bad, because the moment Dom stepped in, six pairs of eyes looked up. Sinclair
glowered at his mug. His nostrils flared, though. Could he smell the donuts?
“You’re late,” Gareth said.
“Yeah, well.” Dom stalked around the table, his heart thumping. Maybe this would
flop, and he’d make a fool of himself.
“Is that for us?” York asked. Alec elbowed him.
Dom ignored them all; he pulled out a bagged donut, setting it in front of Sinclair. Then
he set down another. And another. With each donut, Sinclair’s eyes grew rounder, until
there was more shock than anger on his face.
Dom added the pastry box to the pile. “The rest are in here,” he said, unwilling to
grovel much more in front of the team.
Sinclair gaped. Then, ever so slowly, he looked up, meeting Dom’s eyes.
There was disbelief in his gaze, and a sort of vulnerable uncertainty that overshadowed
his anger. He did still want Dom.
Dom’s heart stumbled. Yeah, he felt really sorry now. He couldn’t look at that face and
not feel terrible about what he’d said.
If the team weren’t here, he would’ve kissed Sinclair, maybe begged for his forgiveness.
“Sorry,” Dom said, his voice rough. “More later.”
Sinclair’s lips moved, as though he wanted to say something.
“Right, time for the daily brief,” Harris said loudly. The tension in the room cracked,
and Dom could breathe again.
“Wow,” York said. “I want Dom to apologize to me, too.”
Gareth coughed so hard, his face turned red.
Dom let his knuckles brush Sinclair’s arm—just a brief touch. Part of it was to sate the
need in his chest. But part of it was to say, I’m sorry, and he hoped Sinclair understood.
Electricity sparked between them, rushing all the way up Dom’s arm. Sinclair sucked in
a breath; he’d felt it, too.
Dom stalked back to the other end of the table and sat down, trying to pay attention to
whatever Harris said. He couldn’t stop looking at Sinclair, though. He watched the way
Sinclair eyed the bagged donuts. Then Sinclair peeked into the pastry box, and his eyes
widened.
He glanced up at Dom, his neck turning red.
Maybe Dom had gone overboard. It felt more like a love confession than anything else.
But it wasn’t love. Just some stupid infatuation that he couldn’t shake.
And now he couldn’t look away from Sinclair. He itched to hold him. To kiss him. To
just press him against the wall and breathe him in, so his instincts would stop
grumbling. This was bad.
At the end of the meeting, Dom grabbed the printed notes from Harris—he hadn’t
heard a single word. Harris shook his head and sighed.
All Dom could think about was touching that scar on Sinclair’s abdomen, where their
baby was.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” York said. “Since most of us aren’t attending bar nights
anymore, what about a barbecue? Where we bring our families!”
Most of the team seemed interested—they were married. Dom would join in just
because. He would feel left out, though. Then he realized that Sinclair hadn’t answered,
either.
“You in, Dom?” Gareth asked pointedly.
Dom shrugged. “I guess.”
“Jesse? What about you?”
Sinclair wasn’t looking at Dom, but he nodded.
Dom couldn’t help glancing at him again—at the same time Sinclair looked up. Their
eyes met. Dom’s stomach flipped. And the rest of the room faded away.
What had changed? Dom wasn’t this desperate before. Now, he needed to be on
Sinclair’s good side, he wanted to patch things up. It was giving him sleepless nights,
for gods’ sakes.
The station alarm rang, breaking their shared gaze. In seconds, the kitchen emptied,
Harris calling out orders.
Dom was on his way to Truck 2 when Sinclair brushed past him, an odd, closed look on
his face.
“I’m still mad at you,” Sinclair muttered. There was no heat in his voice. Just
resentment.
Dom swallowed. “Sorry. It’s your body. Do what you want. I just—I don’t want to see
you bleeding out. I can’t, okay?”
There had been a pool of blood around Mal when Dom had arrived at the scene. Dom
had been furious with himself—for not being able to stop Mal. Then he’d raged at Mal,
for leaving him. As though their vows had meant nothing.
Maybe part of him was afraid that he wasn’t good enough to keep Sinclair alive. That
Sinclair might leave him, too.
The longer this went on, the more ammunition Dom gave him.
“I thought you wanted the baby,” Sinclair said.
Dom still did. So it hurt when he answered, “I’ll let you decide.”
He was about to turn away. Sinclair grabbed his arm. Then, quick as anything, Sinclair
leaned in, pressing their mouths together—a brief touch, barely-there.
But it was still a kiss.
Dom’s heart crashed against his ribs. Sinclair hadn’t initiated any of the soft kisses until
now. So this was important to him, too.
Sinclair released Dom and stalked away, his ears turning pink.
Dom’s spirits lifted. Things weren’t right between them yet. But it felt like Sinclair had
forgiven him, just a little.
J ESSE PULLED the sodas out of his motorcycle trunk, heading over to the pavilion by the
lake. He was early; there hadn’t been much else to do, sitting around at home.
Besides, he kind of wanted to see Dom.
Which made it a good thing that Dom’s silver truck was already in the parking lot,
along with two other familiar cars. Jesse saw them in the distance—York and his omega,
Perry, Alec and his omega, Ben, and three children running around under the pavilion,
waving their arms in the air. It looked like one of Caleb’s snake dances.
The thing in Jesse’s abdomen twinged. He tried not to think about it. Every day with
that uterus felt like a drag—he knew it was there. He badly wanted to take a scalpel to
it, and he was on the verge of making an appointment with the medical center.
The sooner Jesse could leave his past behind, the sooner he could breathe again.
He trudged over to the pavilion, trying his best to ignore the broad figure at the
barbecue pit, tending to some charcoal.
“Hi, Jesse!” Ben said brightly. His belly was even rounder than Jesse remembered. “I
brought some donuts. Have you finished the rest, yet?”
The ones Dom had given him. Of course Ben would know. To be honest, Jesse was still
regaining his appetite—the morning sickness had almost faded by now. “Some,” he
said, noticing the way Dom turned a little, as though he was listening.
Jesse’s stomach flipped. Stop that, he told his body. Dom’s a jerk.
But part of him was happy that Dom paid attention to his arrival. That Dom had agreed
to let Jesse have control over his body. That, despite his earlier wish for Jesse to go
through with the pregnancy, Dom hadn’t insisted on it.
Maybe Jesse should’ve done more than just kissed him that day, but he didn’t know
what to make of this new thing he had going on with Dom.
“Here,” Ben said, setting the bag of donuts next to him. “Would you like a drink?”
“I’ll get it,” Dom said. He met Jesse’s eyes, his gaze dark. Jesse’s heart skipped.
Gods, this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Dom grabbed a permanent marker and a paper cup. Then he wandered over, pausing
before he wrote JESSE in large letters across the side.
It always felt so strange when Dom used that name.
“What do you want to drink?” Dom scooped some ice into the cup.
You wasn’t the correct answer. Not right now, anyway. So Jesse pulled out one of the
sodas he’d brought along, cracking it open. He had half a mind to take his cup from
Dom, too—he didn’t need Dom waiting on him.
Except Dom came up to his side, smelling deliciously like blackwood. He eased his
fingers between Jesse’s hand and the soda bottle. Tingles shot all the way up Jesse’s
spine.
“I can pour it myself,” he muttered.
“Allow me.” Dom tickled his palm. “Release the bottle, Sinclair.”
And now Dom was speaking to Jesse, and Jesse alone. Jesse tried awfully hard not to
smile.
“You like this,” Dom whispered, his sharp gaze missing nothing. Then he leaned in and
pressed a kiss to the corner of Jesse’s lips, and Jesse’s entire head went up in flames.
“Oh,” York said.
“Seriously? You didn’t know?” Alec elbowed him.
Jesse wanted to burrow into the ground like an ostrich. “Nothing happened!”
But Dom only growled, sliding his arm around Jesse’s waist in a smooth, possessive
gesture. “Anyone hits on him, you answer to me.”
York gave a catcall. Alec winked. Ben beamed so brightly, Jesse felt even more
embarrassed.
“Gods.” Jesse wanted to go home. He was done here. Then Dom pressed the paper cup
into his hand, full of fizzy soda.
“Sorry.” Dom met his eyes. “Should I not have?”
“I don’t know.” Despite how awkward he felt, none of the other guys had actually
judged them. They’d gone back to chasing the kids, or tending to the barbecue, or... not
minding him and Dom at all. Like this was a normal thing.
Dom pulled him closer, his touch warm and sturdy against Jesse’s back. It was...
comfortable. Good. Jesse had been curious about being held like this back when he’d
seen it happen with Gareth and Flores, except the reality of it was so much better. Dom
was holding Jesse, his touch a very visible claim.
Dom kissed him full on the lips, a firm slide of skin on skin, his breath brushing across
Jesse’s cheek. Jesse leaned into him, needing more. He’d been missing their kisses for
weeks.
“About time, Dom,” Gareth said behind them.
Startled, Jesse shoved Dom away, spilling soda all over the table. Dom scowled. “Leave
us alone.”
But Gareth only rolled his eyes. “Yeah, tell me that the next time you treat everyone to a
show.”
Jesse groaned, grabbing some napkins to soak up the spill. Gareth’s omega, Flores,
came up to help. Then Dom joined in, and they had the table dry in seconds.
Dom still had his arm around Jesse’s waist, like he didn’t want to let go.
“So,” Gareth said speculatively, looking between Dom and Jesse.
“Stick your nose elsewhere,” Dom told him.
“Worried I’d steal yours?” Gareth laughed. “I’ve already got my own boy, Dom.”
Flores blushed, digging his elbow into Gareth’s ribs. But Gareth’s observation made
sense. It seemed that both Gareth and Dom had a thing for younger partners.
Or does he just like me because I’m young and he thinks he can boss me around?
Jesse wasn’t sure what he thought about that.
“Mine,” Dom growled, tightening his arm around Jesse. Despite his thoughts, Jesse’s
heart tumbled. Another flush threatened to crawl up his face.
“I’m going to cook some food,” Jesse muttered. So he could duck under the radar for a
bit. He slipped away from Dom, heading over to where Perry, York’s omega, was
poking at the charcoal. At least, it was quiet there.
Some time later, when they’d gotten the hot dogs lightly grilled, Jesse searched out
Dom again. The rest of the team had shown up; Dom was in the middle of all the adults
and children, sitting at the tables with some foam project boards.
Someone had drawn a giant snake across the boards; the older kids were painting it
with vivid colors.
“Oh, no,” Perry said next to Jesse. “I thought Caleb was making things up when he told
us about the snake truck.”
“Harris gave Alec the go-ahead,” Jesse said. York and Perry’s son, Caleb, was
something of a snake aficionado. Then he’d gotten his best friend, Izzy, in on the
obsession. Somehow, the trouser snake innuendo had become an inside joke at the
station. “So Alec’s taking a snake truck to their school next week.”
Perry groaned, covering his face.
“It’s just snakes,” Jesse said.
“If all the alphas at the fire station have snakes, then does that mean you can build a
giant snake house in there?” Caleb asked, pushing his large glasses up his nose. “So all
your snakes can come out and play together?”
Perry started choking. Jesse wasn’t sure if he should help thump Perry’s back.
“But we’ll need to see pictures!” Izzy added. “Or do you go to each other’s houses to
show off your snakes?”
“I’m sure the snakes have a great time together,” Alec said, clearing his throat. Perry
just coughed harder. Jesse finally gave in, thumping on Perry’s back so at least he was
helping.
In his excitement, Caleb’s paintbrush flew through the air and hit Dom square in the
face.
Yellow paint splattered all over Dom’s nose and cheeks. Jesse thought Dom would
grumble. Instead, Dom handed the paintbrush back with a grin, wiping the paint off his
face.
That was... unexpected.
Soon after, a toddler raced around and crashed into Dom’s back. Flores ran after the
child, sheepish. But Dom just turned the kid around, nudging him back. And the look
on his face... it was soft. Friendly. Maybe a bit wistful.
With a jolt, Jesse realized that Dom did actually want a child. He’d seen Dom with kids
at the various station open houses, but he hadn’t paid attention back then. Mostly, Jesse
had been busy being awkward around children. He’d always felt like an impostor,
pretending to be friends with them.
And now he just felt even more like an impostor—not wanting to carry this child, not
being able to give Dom the baby he wanted.
He turned back to the grill, his heart thumping.
“Are you okay?” Perry eyed him warily. “You’re breathing hard.”
“How—How do you decide that you want kids?” Jesse croaked, figuring that Perry
wouldn’t mind his stupid question. Perry was a professor at Meadowfall College.
Perry looked surprised. “Well... I had mine because I knew I loved York. And I wanted
his babies.”
What did that even feel like? Wanting a baby? “Do you just magically know how to care
for them? Is that an omega thing?”
Perry laughed. “Actually, there are books and courses and videos out there. I had to do
my research, too.”
“Oh.” Jesse poked at the hot dogs, his thoughts churning. If an omega wasn’t naturally
good at parenting, then what chance did Jesse have?
“Do you...?” Perry glanced at him curiously.
Jesse looked down at his abdomen, trying not to panic. Should he tell Perry? Did he
want anyone to know? “I—I have a thing,” he blurted, pulling his shirt up a little, just
enough to show Perry a sliver of the scar. “You can smell it on me.”
Perry frowned. Then he sniffed, and his eyes widened. He’d recognized the honey
scent. “How?”
Jesse sighed. “Stem cells. I don’t know.”
And maybe he hated science, just a little. Most days now, he felt like he was two steps
away from a breakdown.
Perry’s concern changed into something more determined. He dug around in his
pocket, handing Jesse a name card. “Email me. I’ll send you some resources. Whether or
not you want the child, you have options.”
“Okay.” Jesse breathed in deep, tucking the card into his pocket. He had options. And
Perry wasn’t judging him, either. “I’ll try.”
Perry squeezed his arm, giving him an encouraging smile. Jesse smiled back. He felt a
bit better.
“Hey.” Nate stopped on Jesse’s other side, meeting his eyes. “Got a moment?”
His expression was serious, more than Jesse wanted to see on him. Which could only
mean one thing: bad news. His stomach churning, Jesse followed Nate away from the
pavilion. “This isn’t about the Facility, is it?”
“Larson’s out of jail.”

J ESSE ’ S STOMACH plummeted to his feet. Larson, out of jail. Armed with scalpels and
tranquilizers and needles and things. He could be anywhere. He could be on his way
here, ready to drag Jesse back onto the operating table.
Jesse swayed, his thoughts swimming. “Fuck.”
He’d taken up several self-defense classes by this point. He’d gotten black belts in a
couple of martial arts styles. He’d learned to fire a gun. Hell, he had a semi-automatic
pistol in his bike trunk.
But someone like Larson? That monster was far more scheming than Jesse could ever
be. Jesse had his defenses. None of them would work against tranquilizers. Or sneak
attacks. Or vans pulling up next to him, shooting him and dragging him into their
depths.
He swallowed, his heart scrambling against his ribcage. “What do I do?”
Nate winced. “Stay low. I’ve been looking out for pictures of you floating on the
internet. They’ve been taken down whenever possible.”
“Thanks.” Jesse tried to gather his bearings. Unease pumped in his veins, crowding out
his thoughts. He couldn’t think. Could hardly breathe, even. He needed to disappear,
he needed to lash out.
His entire body felt as though it would shake apart.
“I’ve got your back here.” Nate squeezed his shoulder. “Thought you’d want to know
as soon as you could. If you’d rather not stick around, that’s okay. Find some company.
Lie low for a bit.”
Jesse turned, his ears ringing. He thought maybe he’d tell Dom he was going home. He
didn’t know. His apartment didn’t feel all that safe right now.
Scarcely had he stepped under the pavilion, when Dom was in front of him, all sharp
eyes, smelling like blackwood. “I need to go,” Jesse said.
“I’m coming with you.”
Jesse didn’t even question him.

Dom wrapped his arm around Jesse’s waist, turning to the rest. “Hey, we need to be
somewhere,” Dom said. “We’ll see you in a couple days.”
Most of them waved. Alec gave a wolf whistle. Dom scowled, and Alec sobered up.
That was funny, though; Jesse cracked a smile.
It was only when they were almost to the parking lot, that Dom asked, “What’s
wrong?”
Jesse shook his head, his heart still pounding. “Bad things.”
“How bad?”
Jesse didn’t answer. He stopped by his bike, unlocked the trunk, and took the buried
holster. “Bad,” he said.
Dom’s lips pressed into a thin line; he watched as Jesse’s hands shook, trying to clip the
gun to his waistband. Not that any of his practice would help if he couldn’t hold his
weapon straight. But it made him feel a little bit safer.
Dom opened the truck’s passenger door for him. Jesse would’ve protested, but it was all
he could do to climb in. Dom left the door open; Jesse yanked it shut, trying to suck
enough air into his lungs. It felt like his insides were trying to crawl out.
“Closing the door,” Dom said.
Jesse nodded, breathing in deep. Then he breathed again, over and over, trying to get
enough oxygen into his body. But he thought of Larson, and scalpels, and his heart
clunked horribly in his chest.
He was an alpha, and yet... he felt so out of control. So damn vulnerable.
He needed to not feel like himself.
“I need to be somewhere else,” Jesse muttered, his throat too tight. “I need to stop
thinking.” Need to focus on something else. Anything else. “Please.”
“My place or yours?” was all Dom asked.
“Yours.”
Then they were out of the parking lot, taking the familiar roads through Meadowfall to
Dom’s place. Jesse couldn’t help scanning the streets, hoping he wouldn’t glimpse an
unwanted face.
Dom narrowed his eyes. “What did Nate tell you?”

He’d been watching, then. Jesse had nothing left to hide from him. “The—The person
who did this.” He showed Dom the scars on his arm. “He’s out of jail.”
Dom’s entire body tensed. “Fuck. Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” Jesse hated that he hadn’t asked. Maybe Nate didn’t know, either.
“He’s probably looking for me. But I need to stop thinking about it.”
“We’ll do that.” Dom reached over, squeezing Jesse’s hand tightly. His fingers were
callused, hot, and the pressure was almost painful. But that was good. It helped Jesse
focus. Jesse brought Dom’s hand up and bit his knuckles, then the back of his hand.
Then he turned it around to expose Dom’s wrist, where the blackwood scent was
strongest.
Jesse bit him there, too. Lightly. So he wouldn’t leave a bonding mark.
Dom growled, his breath hitching. He liked being bitten on his scent gland. Jesse bit
him there again. Then, he did it harder. Hard enough that Dom’s entire arm spasmed.
“Fuck, Sinclair.”
“I want you to bite me,” Jesse said, the words falling off his tongue. “I want you to
mark me. So he knows I’m not his anymore.”
Dom bit off his groan, his eyes flashing. “You hear what you’re asking.”
“Yeah.” Jesse wrapped his lips around Dom’s scent gland, and sucked hard.
The truck swerved. Dom jerked his hand away, his chest heaving, his musk filling the
air between them.
There was a prominent bulge in his pants now. Not big enough yet. So Jesse reached
over and grabbed his cock, and it thickened beneath the fabric. Dom snarled. “Wait
until we get home, damn it.”
That was better. That was a good promise. “What happens if I don’t wait?”
Dom’s eyes glinted with danger. “You’re that ready to bend over, huh, Sinclair?”
“Is that what you’re gonna do?” Jesse’s throat went dry. “Fuck me so hard, I can’t sit?”
“I’ll fuck that hole so raw,” Dom breathed, “you’ll beg me to stop.”
Jesse’s hole tightened. “I won’t.”
They pulled into Dom’s driveway. The truck hadn’t even stopped before Jesse leaped
out of it, his pants tight, his fingers working his belt. Unbuckling it. It was broad
daylight, and Dom growled when he reached Jesse, snatching Jesse’s hand off his
clothes.
“Wait until we get inside,” Dom hissed.
Jesse yanked at the buckle with his other hand. Dom’s eyes flashed; he reached behind
and shoved his fingers between Jesse’s asscheeks, up against where his hole was. It
squeezed tight. Jesse wished his pants were gone, so Dom could push his fingers right
inside.
“Obey me,” Dom whispered, his breath hot in Jesse’s ear. “Or you won’t get anything in
here.”
Jesse spat in his face. Dom gathered the fluid with his fingers and licked it off, his musk
filling Jesse’s lungs. And the smile that curved his lips was savage, animal.
“I’m gonna ruin that hole, Sinclair,” Dom breathed. “You’ll have to beg with your
safeword before I stop. And maybe I won’t.”
Need seared through Jesse’s veins. He hadn’t seen this side of Dom before. The side that
was dangerous, the side that could ruin Jesse and leave him so drunk with pleasure, he
wouldn’t even care.
The moment Dom opened the door, Jesse shouldered past him, stepping into the house.
Dom shut and locked the door. Footsteps thudded behind Jesse, catching up with him—
too fast. Dom grabbed Jesse and slammed him against the wall, and he shoved his hand
down the back of Jesse’s pants, down his underwear, pushing between his asscheeks.
Dom ground his rough fingertips against Jesse’s hole, his teeth sharp on Jesse’s ear. “I
warned you,” Dom whispered.
And he thrust his fingers in dry, their entrance burning as he forced Jesse to open
around him, pushing deep inside.
Jesse groaned, his cock shoving desperately against his pants. “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, keep saying that.” Dom scissored his fingers inside Jesse, spreading him wider.
“You’ll take every inch of my cock in here, Sinclair. ‘No’ won’t make me stop.”
Jesse grew so hot, he leaked. He shoved at Dom, elbowing him, hooking his thumbs
into Dom’s pants to try and yank his clothes off. Dom’s laughter rasped against his ear;
his chest burned against Jesse’s back. With his other hand, Dom fumbled with his belt—
but the fingers inside Jesse never stopped moving. Over and over, they pushed inside
him, skirting his prostate, grinding against his sensitive flesh, winding his need higher
and higher, until he couldn’t think. All Jesse knew was that Dom was inside him, and
he needed more.
“Know something?” Dom growled, nudging that spot ever so lightly. Shocks of
pleasure radiated through Jesse’s body. “I threaten to ruin your hole, I tell you I won’t
stop, and you get so fucking wet in here.”
He mashed his fingers ruthlessly against Jesse’s prostate; sparks exploded through
Jesse’s vision, and he couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck.” Dom groaned, rutting against Jesse’s hip. “You do this to me, Sinclair.” He
shoved his pants down, his cock straining, a hot, dark length skimming Jesse’s
fingertips. Jesse reached for him, pumping it—gods, it would open him so sweetly.
“You don’t know how to use that thing,” Jesse hissed.
Dom growled, amused. And he wrapped Jesse’s hand around his cock, thrusting
viciously into his fist. “Too gentle?”
Jesse grew so hot inside, he knew Dom must’ve felt it. Dom swore, his breath rushing
out of his lungs. But he only fucked harder into Jesse’s hand, fast, deep thrusts that
would stretch Jesse, claiming all of him. Jesse arched against the wall, his hole
squeezing, needing to be filled. Right now.
Just as suddenly as he began, Dom pulled his fingers out, patting Jesse’s ass. “Strip for
me. You know where my bed is. I want you on your knees, and I want you spread.
Ready to take my cock.”
“I’m not your omega.” Jesse’s face burned.
“No, you aren’t.” Dom kissed his nape. “The way I want to fuck you, I can’t do with an
omega. Your hole will only know me after this, Sinclair.”
Jesse’s balls tightened, desperate to obey. He stepped into Dom’s bedroom. Dom flicked
the lights on and crossed over to the window, pulling the blackout curtains shut. Jesse
ripped off his shirt. Then he glimpsed the gun on his waistband, and he remembered
the whole reason why they were doing this. Larson was free.
A cold chill slithered up his spine.
Dom stepped up, pulling Jesse’s gun from its holster. Instead of setting it aside, he
tucked it halfway under the pillows.
It said so much about Dom as a person, Dom putting the gun right where Jesse would
be. So Jesse wouldn’t have to search for it in the event that they were attacked.
Dom understood. He never once mocked Jesse at all.
Jesse felt that overwhelming urge to bow for him again. To acknowledge Dom as his
alpha.
“You need to bite me,” Jesse said. It wasn’t only about spiting Larson anymore.
Dom smiled, locking the door. He stripped as he headed over, muscles rippling, his
cock pointing hungrily at Jesse.
Jesse shrugged off the last of his clothes. When he climbed onto the bed, he left his legs
wide open, bracing himself on all fours. Whatever Dom wanted, it was all his.
Dom growled, pumping his cock as he followed Jesse onto the mattress. “Beautiful
view, Sinclair.”
Jesse watched over his shoulder as Dom leaned in, pressing slow kisses down his spine.
That soft, damp touch trailed to the small of his back, then down his asscheek. Dom
grasped Jesse’s ass, spread his cheeks apart, and leaned in, dropping a lingering kiss on
Jesse’s hole—it was a light touch, all warm breath and soft skin. Jesse gasped. No one
had kissed him there before.
“I’m going to be rough today,” Dom murmured, the words vibrating into Jesse’s
entrance. “Rougher than the last two times.”
He dragged something soft and wet over Jesse’s hole. Then he did it again. It was his
tongue, Jesse realized. Dom was licking his hole. He couldn’t help squeezing; Dom
rumbled, flicking the point of his tongue against Jesse’s entrance.
“Relax for me.”
Jesse relaxed. And Dom pushed into him, opening him. Tasting him. Jesse’s breath
punched out of his lungs. “What—Dom, fuck. You can’t do that.”
Dom growled, sounding pleased. “Such a virgin, Sinclair.”
“I’m not!”
And he pushed his tongue deeper with the next kiss, licking inside, pulling out,
pushing back in, so lewd and intimate that Jesse’s words left him. Small, soft sounds fell
from his lips.
Dom leaned back a little, his musk stronger than ever. And he pushed his fingers back
into Jesse’s hole, swirling them around. Except he pulled them out, and replaced them
with his tongue. Over and over, Dom did that, invading Jesse, stretching him open,
until Jesse writhed and spread his legs wider, trying not to whimper. Precome had
soaked the sheets beneath him. “Dom, please.”
“Fuck.” Dom groaned. “Hands on the wall. Spread for me.”
Jesse scrambled to obey. He thrust his ass up, his thighs spread so wide, he knew Dom
could see his hole clearly. It was right there, all for Dom’s taking.
Dom swore. He grabbed the lube from his nightstand, snapping its lid open. Then came
the slick sound of him pumping himself, and the mattress indented behind Jesse. “Last
chance, Sinclair.”
“Fuck off, Dom. I really hate you.”
Dom laughed. Then he slammed Jesse up against the wall and shoved his cock into
Jesse’s crack, a thick length that forced his cheeks apart. Dom ground roughly against
his hole.
“I mean what I said,” Dom whispered, his tongue a soft touch on Jesse’s ear. “I’m going
to fuck you so raw, you’ll feel it into next week.”
“Prove it.”
Dom grabbed Jesse’s hips and yanked their bodies together. The next thing Jesse knew,
Dom’s tip shoved blunt and forceful against his hole, smearing lube and precome over
it. He would be utterly merciless, and Jesse loved it.
“What if I said no now?” Jesse gasped, his entire body singing.
“Too late,” Dom murmured.
He snapped his hips, the pressure against Jesse’s hole spiking, stretching Jesse open,
forcing Jesse to yield around him. Jesse swore; Dom’s cock plowed halfway inside, a
thick, hungry presence that stole all of Jesse’s attention.
He knew Dom was big. But he couldn’t help thinking it every single time, when Dom
opened his hole and thrust ruthlessly in, forcing Jesse to stretch, to take him. None of
Dom’s licking and fingering had prepared him for this.
Jesse throbbed so hard, he had to reach down to pump himself.
“So fucking tight for me, Sinclair,” Dom snarled, gripping Jesse’s hips so hard, he’d
leave bruises. Just as he had the last two times.
“You’re slipping, old man,” Jesse retorted. “That all you can do?”
Dom laughed—more of a rasp. Over his shoulder, Jesse saw the gleam of his eyes. And
Dom hauled him close, ramming his cock all the way in. Pleasure burned down Jesse’s
veins; he panted and swore, his hole opening, his entire body focused on Dom’s
presence in him, Dom’s sinful cock massaging him inside.
Dom began a hard rhythm, deep and forceful at first, then faster, burning pleasure into
Jesse’s body with every stroke. He shoved Jesse forward on the bed, yanked him back
and plowed into him, forcing him open, his cock never once leaving Jesse’s body as it
made Jesse yield, pleasuring him, over and over until Jesse panted and gasped, and his
legs shook with pleasure.
“Not—good—enough,” Jesse panted.
Dom snarled and threw Jesse face-down onto the bed, flat against the mattress. For the
first time, his cock left Jesse, leaving an emptiness inside that felt like starvation.
Before Jesse could beg, Dom mounted him and pinned him down, his cock sliding wet
and heavy between Jesse’s cheeks. Then it pushed between them, found Jesse’s hole,
and when Dom fucked in this time, he had to have more leverage—each stroke was
vicious and more violent than before.
He rode Jesse like an animal, thrusting savagely, hard and fast, each stroke sending so
much pleasure down Jesse’s veins that Jesse couldn’t breathe, he could only take Dom’s
frenzied thrusts, his hole opening for Dom again and again, until their bodies knew
only each other, and Jesse’s cock ached, trapped against the mattress.
“Fucking bite me,” Jesse snarled. While he could still remember it.
Dom leaned in, his sweaty chest flush against Jesse’s back, his teeth pressed sharp
against Jesse’s skin. Then he bit in so hard that pain and pleasure jolted down Jesse’s
spine, and Jesse’s entire body clenched, his cock pulsing.
Had Dom bitten his scent gland? No bite had ever felt this good. Every nerve tingled
with the aftershocks of that bite, and his ass grew hotter, needier.
Dom groaned. Jesse reached down to pump himself. Dom snatched Jesse’s hands off,
anchoring them against his back. And Dom rammed his cock all the way in, burning a
bright-hot trail of bliss through Jesse’s body. Jesse’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“Donut?” Dom panted.
“Fuck you,” Jesse spat.

Dom held Jesse down, his next strokes so punishingly hard that Jesse almost pleaded
for mercy. It felt like he was being owned inside, being taught how to accept Dom’s
cock, and Dom’s cock alone. No one else would claim him this well, no one else would
make his cock thrum so desperately, it was on the verge of blowing.
Over and over, Dom drove pleasure into him, so viciously that Jesse struggled to
breathe, his climax approaching, his chest rubbed raw against the sheets. Three more
strokes, and he’d get there.
Except Dom pulled out.
Completely.
He sat back on the bed, leaving Jesse’s hole raw and plundered, Jesse heartbeats from
an earth-shattering release.
“What the fuck,” Jesse snarled, rearing off the bed. How dare Dom taunt him like that?
When he knew how much Jesse needed to come?
Dom only smiled. “Come get it if you want it.”

S ON OF A ... Jesse pummeled him into the mattress, punching Dom in the chest. “Fuck
you,” he hissed, straddling Dom, shoving their cocks together. But he’d missed his
chance to climax. The friction only gave him a thrum of pleasure, not that crescendo he
was expecting.
He wanted to do the same to Dom. He wanted Dom to regret being a tease.
Maybe he’d threaten to fuck Dom instead.
Jesse gripped Dom’s arms and bore down on him, knocking his legs apart. But Dom
didn’t even look surprised. Damn, he was infuriating. So Jesse leaned in and bit hard on
Dom’s lower lip, breaking it again. Leaving his mark on Dom.
Dom groaned and shoved his tongue into Jesse’s mouth, reaching down to tug on
Jesse’s cock. Bliss jolted up his spine; it wasn’t enough. And Jesse was so close.
On a whim, he decided to chance it. He caught Dom’s knee and shoved it to the side.
Then he caught Dom’s other knee and opened him, and he glimpsed Dom’s entrance—a
small pink pucker that made his throat go dry.
Dom met his eyes—he wasn’t afraid, just expectant.
Yeah, Jesse wanted to fuck him. Really badly.
Dom reached for a tube on the nightstand, tossing it at Jesse. Lube.
Jesse stared. Gods, Dom was letting him do this. Had Dom been... planning for it?
He snapped open the tube and squirted way too much onto his hand. Slicked up his
own cock. Then he touched his fingertip to Dom’s hole—it was small, tight. Could it fit
Jesse? Dom had been slow with him the first time.
Jesse almost wanted to ask, You’re really okay with this? But Dom wasn’t even shoving
him away. So he pushed his finger against Dom’s entrance, until it yielded to him and
took him inside, stretching around him.
Dom was tight, blazing-hot. So good that Jesse could already imagine how Dom would
feel around his cock. He groaned, pumping himself. He tried to make himself wait—he
pushed another finger in, watching as Dom stretched further, dark and pink. Jesse
scissored his fingers. Dom opened, and it was shadowy inside his body, enticing. Jesse
dripped, his balls writhing in anticipation. “Fuck.”
Dom only smiled. He didn’t even look surprised by Jesse’s touch. Had he let someone
else inside him before? Jesse decided that he didn’t want to know. Dom was his. His
alone.
He wanted Dom to remember this moment they shared together.
“Add more lube,” Dom rumbled, his eyes dark. “I’m not like you, Sinclair.”
So Jesse squeezed more onto Dom’s hole, trying to push it in. He must’ve hit a spot
inside—Dom sucked in a sharp breath. He had a sensitive spot there, just like Jesse did.
Delighted, Jesse curled his fingers, trying to find it again. It took him a while. Dom
stiffened suddenly, squeezing around Jesse’s fingers. And his gaze scorched all over
Jesse’s skin.
So Jesse aimed for that same spot. Dom gritted his teeth. Jesse circled it, pressing down
harder, then harder again, until Dom cursed and his chest heaved, and his eyelids
fluttered shut, his mouth falling open.
A triumphant roaring began in Jesse’s chest. He’d found a way to take Dom apart. The
more he stroked Dom there, the harder Dom breathed. And Dom’s hole had relaxed
completely, stretching when he pushed a third finger in. Jesse added a fourth finger.
What would Dom look like, wrapped around Jesse’s cock?
His breath hitching, Jesse squirted more lube onto himself, just in case. Then he shuffled
forward until they were hip-to-hip, his slippery tip pressed against Dom’s entrance.
“Do you have a safeword?” Jesse asked.
Dom’s mouth twitched. “I’ll take whatever you give me, Sinclair.”
How could Dom possibly be ready for that? Jesse resolved to watch him closely, just in
case. Because that was what Dom had been doing with him all this time, wasn’t it? Dom
had been able to tell, somehow, that Jesse had been fine with everything they did.
Slowly, Jesse eased his tip into Dom. Dom was hot inside, tight. Pleasure throbbed into
Jesse; he couldn’t help groaning, snapping his hips forward. He sank into Dom,
stretching him. Dom’s chest heaved, his eyelids fluttering shut.
Jesse was inside his alpha. And they looked perfect together, Dom’s own cock flushed
and thick, his balls pulled tight, his legs open around Jesse, rendering him completely
vulnerable.
“Does it hurt?” Jesse asked.

Dom cracked a smile. “Hell, no.”
That drew a groan from Jesse’s throat. “So I can fuck you harder?”
“It’ll take more than that to break me, Sinclair.”
And now there was a challenge in Dom’s gaze that Jesse couldn’t ignore.
Jesse slid almost completely out. Then he snapped his hips, fucking halfway into his
alpha. Dom grunted, but it wasn’t the best Jesse could do. So he tried again, adjusting
his angle. Dom grunted and squeezed, an intimate pressure. Jesse bit down his groan.
Slowly, he found a rhythm. In and out, pounding into Dom as he tested Dom’s limits.
Then, harder. Pleasure jolted down his nerves; Dom’s spine arched, his breath punching
out of him.
Had Jesse hit that sensitive spot? Jesse tried again, watching Dom’s face, bracing his
weight with his arms so he could snap his hips harder. But he hadn’t driven Dom wild.
He wanted the sort of power Dom had over him, when Dom was fucking him senseless.
Jesse gritted his teeth, plowing savagely into his alpha. Again. And again, until Dom
began to pant, his mouth falling open, his chest heaving, his body sucking hungrily
around Jesse’s cock like it was begging for his come.
Was this what Jesse looked like when Dom fucked him? It was, wasn’t it? Which was
why Dom loved fucking him.
The need in his chest swelled ever hotter. Jesse leaned forward, searching out Dom’s
gaze. Then he thrust in, and pleasure flashed through Dom’s eyes, his breath rushing
out of him. Jesse did it again. And again, until there was a wildness on Dom’s face, until
Dom needed, and he was panting hard, his body completely open to Jesse’s touch.
Jesse worked on his rhythm, slamming into Dom so deep that his balls tapped against
Dom’s ass. He pushed in until he could go no further, until Dom could feel the exact
length and thickness of his cock. Dom clenched his fists, his gaze turning savage. “Is
that all you can do, Sinclair?”
Oh, fuck him. Jesse snarled, ramming his cock into Dom, every single inch. Dom roared,
his legs starting to tremble, his balls pulling tight. And Jesse did it to him again. Until
Dom’s entire chest flushed red, and he was wheezing, reaching down to pump himself.
This was Dom with his defenses down. This was Dom reduced to a bundle of pleasure,
all because of Jesse.
This—It was power over Dom. And Dom had allowed Jesse to have it.
Jesse felt like he could do anything, with power like this.
He flattened his hands against Dom’s chest, feeling the thump of Dom’s heart, the heat
rolling off his body. He felt the way Dom tensed whenever he hit that sensitive spot, the
way Dom gasped when Jesse’s cock fit perfectly inside him.
And now they were both close, Dom leaking onto his abdomen, Jesse growing thick, his
balls pulling tight.
“I’m gonna come inside you,” Jesse rasped.
Dom smiled, sharp and hungry. “You fuck like a virgin, Sinclair.”
Jesse snarled, forcing his cock deeper, harder, so savage that he worried for a moment
he might destroy Dom’s hole.
Then he decided that Dom could handle it. He anchored himself to his alpha, plunging
in so hard that electricity sluiced through his veins and pleasure slammed through him
like an earthquake, ripping his come out of him.
Dom followed him over the edge, clenching tight, tipping his head back in a low snarl
as he shot all over his chest, his cock jerking, his entire body tensing.
In the moments after, Jesse drifted, panting. His thoughts swirled like clouds around
him, shapeless and intangible, dispersing when he tried to reach for them. He focused
on Dom instead, Dom panting beneath him, his body hot around Jesse.
Dom didn’t say if he wanted Jesse’s knot, but he didn’t say no, either. So Jesse let it stay,
just filling his lungs with blackwood. Something occurred to him, though.
“You said you might not stop if I said ‘donut’,” Jesse mumbled, lifting his head to meet
Dom’s gaze. “Was that true?”
He didn’t know if he wanted it to be. It had sounded hot as fuck coming off Dom’s lips.
Didn’t make it right, though.
Dom studied him for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. “Do you want the hot
answer, or the truth?”
“The truth.”
Dom slid his hand up Jesse’s back, smearing sweat along the way. “I would’ve stopped.
Not going back on my word, Sinclair. A safeword is a promise.”
Jesse wasn’t sure how Dom could keep surprising him with his niceness, but it still kept
happening anyway. “What if I didn’t want to say it?”
Dom’s gaze pierced too deep into him. “I like to think I can read you well enough to
know before you need to say it.”
Jesse’s heart fluttered. “You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe not all of you.” Dom didn’t once look away. “But you keep coming back for
more, Sinclair. And you don’t know me, either.”
He was painfully right. Here they were, bared before each other, and Jesse knew more
about Dom’s body than the things he liked, or the things he’d done. Hell, he didn’t even
know how Dom had lost his omega.
To learn more about Dom meant a sort of emotional commitment he wasn’t sure he was
ready for. “You had problems with me. Right from the start. I can’t stop freaking out,
Dom. I’m never gonna be right in the head.”
A shadow flickered through Dom’s face. So Dom still had problems with that. Jesse’s
heart sank.
“Yeah, there’s that,” Dom said, glancing away.
Jesse swallowed, pulling out. There wasn’t any point staying when Dom didn’t want
him around.
But Dom caught his hand. “Are you free tomorrow?”
Jesse hesitated. “Kind of.”
“Lunch?” Dom actually looked hopeful.
Jesse’s heart stumbled, but he shook his head. “I’m going to Highton.”
That made Dom’s gaze sharpen. “To the medical center?”
“No. I’m gonna—gonna visit my parents.” Maybe. He’d decided that he needed to,
before Larson showed up and he forever lost his chance to say hi.
“You don’t sound so sure.” Dom watched him shrewdly. “What’s wrong?”
Jesse gulped. “Nothing.”
Dom sat up, squeezing Jesse’s hand tighter. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing you can fix,” Jesse snapped, his heart sore. “It’s not your problem.”
But Dom cupped Jesse’s face and hauled him close, kissing him on the lips. “I gave you
that bonding mark on your neck, Sinclair. You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.”
Jesse froze, his thoughts crashing into each other. “Bonding mark?”
His neck ached dully, where Dom had bitten him. That... had been a bonding mark?
Jesse touched it gingerly, still disbelieving. Then he fumbled off the bed, staggering to
Dom’s bathroom. His ass ached; Dom was right. Jesse would feel this into next week.
When he glanced at his reflection, all those thoughts left his mind. Dried blood had
welled up on the crook of his shoulder, where his scent gland was. Teethmarks. The
sort that you gave a bondmate.
Jesse had asked, and Dom had bitten him. His heart squeezed tight.
That was the mark you gave someone when you promised your life to them. Dom
didn’t want to commit. Even though he’d bitten Jesse there. Jesse wasn’t mentally right
enough for him.
“Sinclair.” Dom pressed him against the counter, all sharp eyes. “Calm down.”
“I’m not calming down—”
Dom kissed him. He tipped Jesse’s face up and sealed their lips together, sliding his
tongue into Jesse’s mouth. Jesse bit him; Dom hissed, but he didn’t let go. “You’re mine
now,” Dom said. “Deal with it.”
Jesse’s heart hurt. “I’m not yours.”
Even though he wanted to be.
Dom kissed him again. “I’m coming with you tomorrow.”
Jesse sucked in a shaky breath, his pulse going uneven. How would that even work
out? “They won’t recognize me, Dom. I don’t think you should be there.”
“They won’t?” Dom held him tighter. “Why not?”
And now Jesse’s face burned. “I haven’t been home. Since—Since I got out.”
Something like sympathy flashed through Dom’s gaze. “Why?”
“Look at me,” Jesse hissed, feeling every single one of his scars. “The last time they saw
me, I was fourteen.”
He was twenty-four now. Jesse wasn’t sure what his parents expected, but it certainly
wasn’t him like this, and him pregnant.
Dom sucked in a slow breath. Then he cradled the back of Jesse’s head, and held him
tight. “They’ll want to see you.”
“I have a fucking bump under my abs.”
Dom growled, trailing his wrists down Jesse’s arms, marking him with blackwood. “If
you were gone for ten years, Sinclair, I know I’ll sure as hell want to see you again.
Whatever you look like.”
Jesse’s heart stopped. Then his eyes began to burn, and he had to blink hard. Why was
Dom saying shit like this? When Jesse wasn’t enough for him? Didn’t that matter?
“You’re not my mom or dad.”
“No. I’m your alpha now.”
Jesse turned away, struggling with the wetness in his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to cry.
Only omegas did. He breathed in hard, trying to blink away the burning. “Fine.
Whatever.”
Dom slipped his arm around Jesse’s waist. “So I’m coming with you.”
“Fine,” Jesse said, his throat too tight. Maybe he needed company just in case Mom and
Dad couldn’t recognize him.
Dom kissed his bonding mark, his lips gentle. Then he slipped his hand over Jesse’s abs,
stroking his wrist lightly over that bump. Where the baby was. Jesse wasn’t sure if he
was more terrified of that, or lying on an operating table again.
“Shower,” Dom murmured. “Get all this sweat washed off.”
“I’m showering by myself.”
“Okay.”
Even though Jesse wanted to see Dom under the shower. Maybe next time. He pulled
away, feeling raw and vulnerable. Except Dom tangled their fingers together. “Hey,
Sinclair.”
“What?” Jesse turned, scowling. He almost crashed into Dom’s chest.
“Remember today,” Dom murmured in his ear. “You’re one hell of a top. ‘Specially
when you’re pissed.”
Jesse froze. Dom was talking about earlier. When he’d let Jesse fuck him. “You can’t be
serious.”
Dom’s smile curved his lips, slow and satisfied. “You’re something special when you
threaten me like that.”
Jesse remembered the power, he remembered feeling like he could do anything when
Dom trusted him. “You didn’t... You—You did that on purpose.” The dots connected in
his mind. Dom giving up his dominance, Dom allowing Jesse to fuck him. Because Jesse
had been feeling like crap, and then... it had faded. And Dom had replaced it with
confidence. Strength.
Dom wasn’t just strong enough to buoy himself—he’d lifted Jesse’s spirits, too.
Jesse stared incredulously at Dom, wanting to leap at him, wanting to kiss him, and do
something ridiculous about the gnawing in his chest that said this wasn’t enough.
It was dangerous. He shouldn’t get his hopes up so high.
He tucked himself into the shower, turning it on hot. Dom was on the other side of the
shower curtains, just being there.
After spending years at the Facility, after being alone for so long... Having Dom by his
side—Jesse felt safe with him.
Maybe... tomorrow wouldn’t be a complete fuck-up. Maybe, if Mom and Dad didn’t
turn him away, maybe he could introduce them to Dom.
S INCLAIR WAS ROOTING AROUND in the fridge when Dom woke the next morning.
It was something special waking up to that cinnamon scent, layered over with honey.
Not so nice to find that Sinclair had disappeared from his bed.
Dom had been disappointed. Then he’d noticed the bedroom door ajar—he never left it
that way. It was always either open, or closed. So he’d followed Sinclair’s scent to the
kitchen. And he’d found that alpha raiding his fridge, not a stitch of clothing on his
scarred body.
Last night had been real nice.
“Woke up early?” Dom rumbled.
Sinclair jumped and straightened. He had some raw celery sticking out of his mouth,
but otherwise he seemed fine. “Where’s the honey?”
Dom pulled it out of the pantry—an unopened bottle he’d brought back from the
station, courtesy of York and Perry’s overstock. It was precisely because the honey came
from them, that its bottle was the perfect size to dip an alpha cock in. Not that Dom had
intended it for that purpose until now.
Sinclair seemed to recognize the jar, too, cracking a smile. “I’m eating your celery first,”
he said, pulling another stick out of the fridge.
“Then some meat?” Dom growled.
Sinclair eyed Dom’s hips. Then he took the celery out of his mouth and shook it at Dom.
“This is harder.”
“Brat. One of these days, I’ll bend you over my knee,” Dom growled.
Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“And not put anything into that hole.”
Sinclair scowled, turning back to the fridge. That shut him up. He was still adorable,
though. And Dom’s ass ached pleasantly, a reminder of yesterday. Sinclair’s probably
still hurt, too.
Dom smiled, setting the honey on the counter. Sinclair brought out the sour cream and
hot sauce. Then he mixed all three in a cereal bowl, and dipped his celery stick in.
Dom winced. “That can’t taste great.”
Sinclair tipped the mixture into his mouth, all but drinking it. “You’re missing out.”
Then he mixed up more of his concoction, spread it over a slice of cheese, and wrapped
it around a pickle.
Dom was glad Sinclair didn’t offer to share that. “You usually eat stuff like that at
home?”
Sinclair shrugged. “Not really.”
So it was his pregnancy cravings, then. Dom couldn’t help growling, heading over to
wrap his arms around Sinclair. He loved touching this man—all hard lines and muscles,
so unlike an omega.
Sometimes, Dom could even fool himself into thinking this would end differently from
how it had with Mal.
He mouthed Sinclair’s nape, his instincts rumbling at the new scab of his bonding mark.
Then he stroked down Sinclair’s chest, lingering at his abdomen. Sinclair was right
about the bump. It was more visible now, if anyone thought to look closely.
Dom wondered what their child would look like. Whether it would have Sinclair’s
features, or his, or a mix of them both. He imagined their baby grinning toothily,
babbling and grabbing Sinclair’s fingers. He thought about their child running around,
tiny and excitable, and a small, quiet part of him yearned.
“You said you had an omega. Why didn’t you have any kids with him?”
Sinclair had caught Dom fixating on his abdomen, then. Dom sighed, rolling his
shoulders. “We weren’t ready for them. I didn’t think he would ever be, really.”
“So—So is that a dealbreaker for you?” Sinclair asked, stumbling over his words.
Did he think Dom would leave him because of that? Dom’s chest squeezed; he pulled
Sinclair closer. “No. But we didn’t have an accidental pregnancy, either.”
Sinclair looked down, staying silent. Dom didn’t want to think about losing this baby. It
threatened to break his heart every time.
“If I could be the one with the uterus, I’d carry it, you know,” Dom said.
Sinclair stiffened, a flush sweeping up his neck. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to
mean.”
Dom probably shouldn’t have said it. “Forget it.”
He turned Sinclair around and kissed him, slipping into his mouth. The sour cream and
honey and hot sauce were all faintly there, mixed in with cheese and pickle and celery.
And maybe it wasn’t that awful a taste, if it meant he was kissing Sinclair.
His heart swelled, needing more of this man. That was dangerous. Dom pulled away,
squeezing Sinclair’s ass. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll drive.”
Sinclair scowled. “I can drive, too.”
“Yeah, well. My truck. I get to decide.” But he kissed Sinclair’s jaw, then his mouth,
distracting Sinclair from the sudden tension that had sprung up in his body.
Sinclair was nervous. Dom hadn’t realized just how self-conscious Sinclair was of his
scars, how terribly he thought of them—enough for him to think his family would hate
them, too. He rubbed Sinclair’s arms, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “It’ll go fine.
You’re still the same person, I think. Deep down. They’ll recognize you.”
Sinclair looked doubtful, so Dom said, “Tell you what. I’ll make you dinner when we
get home. Your choice.”
“I can cook,” Sinclair muttered, but he looked a little less anxious.
“Blowjob, too?” Dom offered.
Sinclair cheered up more. He’d loved the one Dom had given him last night.
He gathered his clothes from yesterday, spraying them down with scent suppressants—
they’d come home from the barbecue smelling like sex. Not the best scent to be wearing
to your parents’ place.
When Sinclair was ready, Dom drove them to Highton, Sinclair fidgeting in the
passenger seat. Dom reached over, holding his hand. That helped calm him a little.
It wasn’t long before they turned down a quiet road in a suburban neighborhood,
pulling to a stop in front of a pale yellow house. Sinclair stiffened, his breaths coming
faster.
Dom took his hand. “Focus on me.”
Sinclair looked like he might go into a panic. Dom unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled
him close, pressing their foreheads together. “Look at me. Breathe.”
Sinclair breathed. Slowly, he managed it, one shaky inhale after another. Dom didn’t
know what was going through his head; he’d figured it was bad. Sinclair didn’t even
flinch at their most difficult fires, but things like this, just going home...
Dom kissed his lips, stroking his nape. Gradually, Sinclair calmed down, his breaths
puffing onto Dom’s mouth. “I hate freaking out like this,” Sinclair muttered. “I wish it’d
stop.”
“Can’t help so much with that. Sorry.” Dom squeezed Sinclair’s shoulder, cupping his
neck. Just to let him know he wasn’t alone.
More minutes later, Sinclair blew out a breath, leaning away. “Better now.”
Dom kissed the back of his hand.
Sinclair scowled. “Not an omega.”
“Nope. Just someone who needs kisses.” Gods, that sounded so cheesy. But it was true.
And it made Sinclair scowl harder—not that Dom would tell him those scowls only
made him more adorable.
So he kissed his alpha.
Sinclair always looked so eager for more, every time Dom ended a kiss. Dom brushed
their mouths together—Sinclair’s lips were soft and velvety, decadent. Dom tasted him.
Then he tasted Sinclair again, nipping on his lower lip, sliding in, tangling their
tongues.
Sinclair had gotten a lot better at kissing. Dom liked to think it was because of all the
kisses they’d shared, him pressing Sinclair up against walls, dragging hungry groans
from his throat.
When Sinclair relaxed further, Dom stroked his jaw and pulled away, waiting until
Sinclair anchored himself in the present. “Ready now?”
Sinclair sighed. “Guess I am.”
Dom walked with him up the driveway, tangling their fingers together. Last night,
while they’d sat together in bed, Sinclair had double-checked the address. They’d joined
in on the team’s group chat, and then Dom had pinned Sinclair, and given him a
blowjob. Sinclair had come so hard, it had taken him a while to speak again.
Dom savored that memory now, rubbing his knuckles against the small of Sinclair’s
back, waiting as Sinclair pressed the bell of his childhood home.
Muffled voices came from deeper within the house. Someone pattered up behind the
door, and there was a pause. Then the door opened slowly, a short, plump woman
poking her head out. “No, we’re not interested in buying your products,” she said
warily.
Sinclair sucked in a sharp breath, freezing. His mom made to close the door—Dom
threw his hand out, catching the door before it shut. “Ma’am, hold on for a second.
Hear him out.”
Opal Sinclair paused, looking from Dom, to her son. Then she did a double-take at his
scars, faltering.
Silence stretched between them. Sinclair’s throat worked; he tried to speak, but no
sound came from his moving lips.
His mom stared at him for a long moment, her eyes slowly growing wide. She had
vivid blue eyes, just like Sinclair did. The same nose, too. “Wait,” she said slowly,
opening the door wider. “What’s your name?”
“Jesse,” Sinclair said, his voice rough. “Ten years ago, March 22nd. I was walking home
from school. We were gonna celebrate Kelly’s birthday. A van drove up and—”
Something broke in Opal’s expression. She threw the door open and barreled out,
pulling Sinclair down into a fierce hug. “Jesse, hon. We thought you’d died.”
Sinclair trembled, his eyes full of unshed tears. Dom reached over, touching his waist.
“Okay to cry,” Dom murmured. “You’re no less of an alpha.”
Sinclair wrapped his arms around his mom, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’m sorry
I haven’t been home sooner,” he mumbled, sucking in great, heaving breaths. “I just...”
“It doesn’t matter,” Opal said, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I’m just so happy that
you’re home.”
Sinclair hid his face, his shoulders shaking as he broke down. Dom pulled his hand
away. Sinclair didn’t need him now. He stepped back a couple paces, just letting
Sinclair have his privacy. He thought about going back to his truck to wait, maybe
heading elsewhere until Sinclair was ready to see him again. But he didn’t want Sinclair
to think he’d upped and left without at least saying something.
So Dom waited. Sinclair’s dad stopped by the door, frowning when he found his wife
sobbing. “Opal? What’s the matter?”
Opal pulled away from her son, wiping her eyes. “It’s Jesse, Wayne. He’s alive!”
She ushered Sinclair into the house, and Sinclair stiffened when he saw his father.
“Dad,” Sinclair croaked. He curled his hands into fists—he was more afraid of meeting
his dad, than his mom.
Wayne Sinclair stared for a moment. Then something broke in his expression, too, and
he was striding forward, hauling his son into a tight hug. Sinclair trembled, hugging
him, swiping the tears off his face. But his dad was blinking hard, too.
“We searched for you for years,” Wayne said, thumping his son’s back. “No one knew
anything. We hired private investigators, but nothing came up.”
“I was kidnapped,” Sinclair mumbled. “Was a long time before I could get out.”
“What happened to you?” His mom touched his arm gingerly; Dom could see her heart
breaking in her eyes. “How did you get all these?”
Sinclair shrugged, pulling away from his dad. And now he looked uncertain. “I—I was
in an underground facility. Human trafficking. They did experiments on me. About six
years.”
“Six years? Of experiments?” Opal paled, looking horrified.
“Yeah. I tried my best to escape. They just kept shooting me down.” He looked at his
feet. “I wasn’t strong enough to beat them.”
There was so much shame in those words that Dom wanted to go over and hug him.
But it was still a family moment, and Dom hadn’t been invited into the house.
“Thing is, you survived.” Wayne clapped his son’s shoulder, his eyes flashing. “Just tell
me where they are, and I’ll go beat them up—”
“No.” Sinclair shook his head, panic darting through his face. “Don’t. They’re worse
than scum. Don’t—Don’t get involved.”
And the words Sinclair didn’t say, but that Dom heard anyway: I wasn’t strong enough to
beat them. They could just as easily kill you.
“Besides, they’re in jail,” Sinclair said lamely.
Not Dom’s choice, lying like that. But he understood Sinclair’s desire to keep them here,
away from danger. Safe.
“Good riddance,” Wayne growled.

“But maybe you want to take some self-defense classes,” Sinclair blurted. “Or, you
know. Have some pepper spray on you. That’s really important. Never hurts to be
vigilant.”
He was still protective of his folks. Just as fond of them as he’d been at his station
interview. Yeah, Dom wanted to bring him home tonight.
“You don’t smell like birch anymore,” Opal said, her face falling. “Is that... because of
the experiments?”
Sinclair rubbed the scent gland on his neck, flushing. “I... I don’t know. They did things
to me. Things changed.”
He reached up, almost touching his abdomen. Then he made himself put his hand
down. His mom saw, though. She frowned, touching his waist. “Are the scars... all over
you? Can we see them?”
Sinclair hesitated, before pulling off his shirt. Dom expected the slew of lines and
grooves and splotches all over his torso. Opal gasped. Wayne swore.
“Baby. Oh, hon.” Opal traced the scars with her fingertips, her face falling. “Did it
hurt?”
Sinclair shrugged. “Some did.”
He glanced at his dad, though, as though he was afraid. But Wayne only pulled him
into a hug. “You’re a survivor,” Wayne told his son. “I’m proud of you.”
Sinclair choked up, blinking hard.
After this, Dom was going to treat him real nice. Nicer than before. So Sinclair didn’t
have to be so surprised when people said good things to him.
As though he’d felt Dom’s thoughts, Sinclair turned, meeting his eyes. He looked...
Vulnerable. Relieved. Happy. “I can come back in a couple hours,” Dom said.
Sinclair’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”
“I don’t have to.” And maybe Dom liked that Sinclair wanted him here.
“Who’s your friend, Jesse?” Opal asked.
“That’s Dom. He’s, uh.” Sinclair wet his lips, a flush creeping up his neck.
“His team deputy at the Meadowfall fire department.” Dom stepped into the house,
holding his hand out to Wayne. “We’ve been coworkers for a while.”
“Dom, huh?” Wayne shook Dom’s hand, surveying him. “That’s a name.”
Dom almost felt embarrassed—mainly because he really liked dominating Wayne’s son
in bed. The nickname fit almost too well. “My friends call me that. Short for Dominic
McCoy.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you, Mr. McCoy,” Wayne said. “And Jesse—you’re a firefighter
now!” He puffed up his chest. “That’s great news.”
Sinclair smiled, looking like a little boy who had received the best present ever.
Opal beamed when Dom kissed the back of her hand. “Oh, you didn’t have to,” she
said, but she was pleased anyway.
“Jesse told me about you.” Dom gave her a smile. “He said you’re the best mom in the
world. And that you invented the flower crown.”
Opal seemed delighted. Dom turned, meeting Sinclair’s eyes. Just to check if he
shouldn’t have introduced them as coworkers. But Sinclair seemed comfortable with
that, so Dom was content to stand back, and let Sinclair continue with his reunion.
“How did you get this scar?” Opal murmured, touching the large, silvery 301 on
Sinclair’s shoulder. “Did they... cut your skin off?”
Sinclair scowled. “That was from the forge. They had a row of iron numbers in the
coals, just waiting for the new prisoners. I have one on my hip, too. Every test subject
got them. Some of the guys with faded marks were brought back to the forge so they
could be re-stamped again.”
The sheer cruelty turned Dom’s stomach. “Red-hot iron?”
“Yeah.” Sinclair looked away. “And I’d thought that was bad. That was the easiest part
of it.”
Dom really, really wanted to punch someone in the face. Sinclair had been fourteen.
Dom didn’t know how he would’ve dealt with it, himself, at that kind of age. It
would’ve fucked with his mind so bad. Hoping to escape, or be rescued. Only to have
that hope dashed, over and over.
And Sinclair just looked so hopeful, so pleased, whenever Dom kissed him.
Dom regretted being such a jerk to him in their earlier years. If he’d just asked Nate
what Sinclair had been through, if he’d just been a little kinder—he would’ve made
Sinclair’s life so much easier.
“Sinclair,” he blurted, not realizing that Sinclair was in the middle of a conversation
with his parents.
Sinclair looked up. And so did Opal and Wayne. Because they were all Sinclairs.
“Ah, sorry.” Dom’s face heated. “I meant Jesse.”
A small, delighted smile curved Sinclair’s lips. He looked like he wanted to step over to
Dom, except he hesitated. Sinclair turned back to his parents. “Is my... Is my old room
still there?”
Opal smiled wryly. “It’s always been there, hon. Just the way you left it. But I did go in
to clear out your empty bowls. And your dirty laundry.”
Sinclair flushed, glancing at Dom. “I was fourteen, Mom!”
He needed a kiss or five, whenever he was flustered like that.
Opal grinned. “You’re not living in a sty anymore?”
“No! I’m going to look at my room,” Sinclair muttered. “Be out soon.” He was about to
turn away, when he frowned. “I love you, Mom and Dad, but don’t tell any more
embarrassing stories about me, okay? Not in front of Dom.”
Sinclair stalked over, grabbing Dom’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”
Dom had just enough time to nod at Sinclair’s parents, before Sinclair dragged him
down a hallway, opening a door with a computer game sign hanging on it. In pixelated,
hand-drawn letters, it read, Jesse’s Room.
Inside, the room was dusted, smelling faintly like lemon. Video games filled one shelf,
and an outdated computer sat on a small desk. His bed was tiny. So was the one T-shirt
hanging from the closet door.
“You were a small kid,” Dom murmured.
Sinclair rounded on him, scrutinizing Dom’s face. “What were you gonna say to me?”
He looked so curious, so eager. Dom kissed him, tasting his lips, sliding into his mouth,
groaning when Sinclair opened for him. Sinclair sighed, slipping his fingers into Dom’s
hair.
“Just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Dom murmured against his lips. “For being a jerk when
we first met.”
Sinclair blinked. Then he smiled crookedly, biting hard on Dom’s lip. He broke skin—
with it came a jolt of pain—but Dom didn’t mind. “Yeah, you were a damn asshole,”
Sinclair growled. “And I wanted to punch you and fuck you and make you eat your
words.”
“You’ve done all three,” Dom said, grinning.
Sinclair grinned back. “Now I have.”
Dom kissed him again. Then he paused, remembering the awkwardness from a few
minutes ago. “Would you rather I call you by your name? Instead of Sinclair.”
Surprise flickered through Sinclair’s face. But he shook his head.
“Why?”
Sinclair’s cheeks turned pink. “When you call me Sinclair... You aren’t saying
something for someone else to hear. You’re talking to me alone. It’s like... you’re only
paying attention to me.”
Like I’m special, Sinclair didn’t say, but Dom heard it.
Dom smiled, hauling him close. He sucked on Sinclair’s earlobe and growled,
“Sinclair.” His alpha shivered, drawing a quick breath.
Oh, Dom was going to have fun with that tonight.
He kissed down Sinclair’s neck, then asked, “Was there something else you wanted to
do in here? Aside from letting me kiss you?”
Sinclair laughed, pushing him off. “I wanted to show you my favorite stuff! Like—Like
all my games. And my toys. This was my favorite truck. And here’s Mr. Teddles, he’s a
duck. But he’s not an ordinary duck, you know. He was an undercover police officer
patrolling my closet.”
He pulled out various toys, shoving them into Dom’s arms. Dom sat on Sinclair’s bed,
just watching as cheerful enthusiasm took over him. More toys filled his lap—stuffed
animals and plastic vehicles and old action figures—to the point where he was
surrounded by Sinclair’s favorite things.
Never in a million years, would Dom have expected to be here. Being nostalgic with
this man.
Sinclair turned, suddenly. And he stared at Dom with a warm, soft look in his eyes.
Then he pulled his phone out, holding it carefully in front of Dom.
“What’re you doing?” Dom stared suspiciously at him.
“Taking a picture. I’m showing the rest.” Sinclair tapped on his screen.
He turned the phone around a moment later, and there was Dom with a toy turtle on
his head, stuffed zebras on his shoulders, and a pile of other animals on his lap... in
their team chat.
If this is supposed to be kinky, show it to someone else, Gareth wrote.
Aw, you guys are so cute, Alec added.
I hope you’re running. York threw in a fearful emoji. Dom looks like he might murder you.
Harris only laughed. You’ll never live this down, Dom. Congrats from V and me.
This wasn’t anything like what Harris and Valen had, but... Dom brushed that thought
aside. He didn’t want to think about it right now. “You know they’ll rib us about it
tomorrow, right?”
“Like they aren’t gonna rib us already.” Sinclair tucked his phone away, bracing his
knee on the mattress next to Dom. “You went and kissed me in front of them.”
That had been so satisfying. Dom growled, flopping backward onto the bed. He hauled
Sinclair down with him, stifling his groan when Sinclair’s body pressed flush against
his own, a few stuffed toys squished between their legs. The bed creaked.
“I was staking my claim,” Dom whispered. “Mine.”
Sinclair brightened. “You can’t be for real.”
“Hell yeah, I am.” Dom touched the bite mark on Sinclair’s neck. Then he crashed their
lips together, and Sinclair groaned, grinding closer, pushing his tongue into Dom’s
mouth. All Dom could smell was cinnamon and honey. It was the best scent in the
world.
“I’m gonna claim you,” Sinclair growled. “Gonna teach you what my cock feels like.”
Dom smiled wide—Sinclair was adorable when he thought he’d win. “Yeah? You think
you’ll be on top this time?”
“I know I’m gonna be.” Sinclair thrust his hips viciously against Dom’s, sucking Dom’s
lower lip into his mouth. Dom wasn’t prepared to mark this bed with their musk, but if
Sinclair insisted...
Someone knocked on the door, two light, quick taps. Dom barely registered it. Sinclair
broke the kiss, glancing up.
The door opened, Opal peeking in.
Sinclair froze. Then he swore and scrambled off Dom, his entire face turning red.
“Oh.” His mom looked just as taken aback. “I’ll be back later.”
“No, no.” Sinclair squirmed; he looked like he wanted to hide somewhere. “We were,
um. We were fighting. We’re done now.”
“He was winning,” Dom offered, sitting up. Maybe he’d underestimated exactly how
flustered this alpha could get. Sinclair looked like he wanted to bolt—and it was only
his mom walking in on them.
Opal hesitated, glancing at the stuffed toys strewn around Dom. Dom thought maybe
he should’ve been a bit more cautious. Opal was his age. He shouldn’t be putting his
hands inappropriately on her son. At least, in front of her.
“We should go,” Sinclair blurted. “I shouldn’t have, um.”
“Wait, no.” Opal looked dismayed. “I wanted to ask if you and Dom would stay for
lunch. And dinner. We haven’t seen you in so long, hon.”
Sinclair turned even redder—gods, Dom wanted to pin him, and kiss him senseless.
“Maybe just lunch,” Sinclair blurted.
Opal cheered up. “I’ll make your favorite sandwich. Chicken with mayo, right?”
Sinclair nodded hurriedly, as though he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. “Yeah. I
make that all the time. Even at the station. The others love it. I just tell them it’s your
recipe.”
“That’s great.” Opal beamed, looking less awkward. Then she stepped into the room
and touched her son’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be shy if you like another alpha,
hon. It’s completely fine.”
“I don’t even like alphas,” Sinclair mumbled, turning redder.
“Well, you can enjoy ‘fighting’ with them, I guess,” Opal said dryly, glancing at Dom.
“Sorry we didn’t mention it earlier.” Dom stood and slipped his arm around Sinclair’s
back. “It’s a bit of a surprise.”
Hell, it wasn’t even the last surprise.

“No worries. I’m happy that Jesse brought you to meet us, Dom.” Opal gave Dom a hug
and smile, before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
Sinclair groaned, rubbing his face. “I wasn’t... I wasn’t planning on this.”
“But you wanted me to be here.”
Sinclair thumped his forehead against Dom’s shoulder, his ears still red. Dom smiled
and kissed his neck. Then he brushed his knuckles over Sinclair’s bare abdomen, where
the scar was. “Are you planning to tell them today?”
“I don’t know.” Sinclair sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t know how—how Dad’s
gonna react.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But I went into heat. And—And I spread for you.” Sinclair squirmed harder. “They’re
gonna imagine it when I say that, won’t they? And Dad will just...”
Dom thought about it. “Well... When most couples say they’re expecting, no one
imagines how they went about doing it.”
“How are you so sure?” Sinclair frowned. “Say if Harris knocks Valen up, wouldn’t you
want to know how they did it?”
“Well... maybe.” Because Dom would be curious, even if he knew he shouldn’t think
about it. “Just tell them about the uterus. It’s not like they haven’t conceived before.”
“Easy for you to say,” Sinclair muttered.
“I could tell them on your behalf.”
“No!” Sinclair scowled. “Besides, I still might not keep it.”
Dom’s stomach twisted. Yeah, there was that. He fought down the urge to stroke
Sinclair’s abdomen, to lean in and say hello. He’d already nuzzled it last night, when
he’d made sure Sinclair was asleep.
But the possibility always hung between them, that Sinclair might terminate the
pregnancy. And the more Dom bonded with that baby, the worse his heart would
break.
He knew the risk. He’d known that Sinclair could shatter his life, and here he was,
giving Sinclair his marking, his promises, his everything.
What if he woke up one day, and found Sinclair gone? What would he do, then?
I love him, Dom thought, the words heavy like shackles around his heart. And yet he
couldn’t stop. He’d been drawn like a moth to flame, and Sinclair would raze him to
ashes, just like Mal had.
Dom sighed, pulling Sinclair against his chest. I’m such an idiot.
-
J ESSE FOLLOWED his dad out onto the back porch. “What did you want to talk about?”
Wayne Sinclair fixed him with a solemn look. And Jesse knew this was about Dom,
even before his dad had said a word. “That deputy of yours. Is he treating you right?”
Jesse’s heart thumped. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“You’re young, son.” Wayne clapped Jesse on the shoulder, his palm heavy. He’d aged
so much since Jesse last saw him—he’d grown thinner, his hair grayer. “You don’t
know so much about the world.”
Jesse sighed. “I’ve been through enough for several lifetimes, Dad.” He turned his arms
over, showing Dad his scars. “I’m not right in the head anymore.”
Dad’s face fell. “You mean the thing about slamming doors? Your... flashbacks?”
“Yeah. Dom helps me get out of them.”
Dad was quiet for a moment. “He’s a lot older than you.”
Jesse shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“You don’t want someone that’s more your age? An omega, maybe?”
Jesse had thought about that, on and off. He’d thought about how easily he went into
panic attacks, how easily he jumped when someone accidentally touched him.
“Honestly, I don’t think I want an omega to put up with this. I don’t want to
accidentally hurt someone. I’ve already punched Dom a lot of times, thinking he was
trying to take me down.”
An omega probably wouldn’t approach him like Dom did—but then what sort of
relationship would that become? When Jesse scared off people who couldn’t handle
him?
And maybe... he’d grown far too comfortable around Dom. Enough to forget that there
was a threat lurking nearby, just waiting for him to slip up.
He palmed the holster at his hip, glancing at the deepening shadows around the house.
The sun had set, the sky fading from salmon-pink to a rich purple hue. It had been a
good afternoon with his parents.
After that initial awkwardness, Jesse had emerged from his bedroom. His mom and dad
had welcomed Dom anyway. Even though they knew what sort of relationship he and
Jesse shared. Then Kelly had come home, and she’d hugged Jesse and told him how
cool his scars were.
“He was looking at you strange over dinner,” Dad said.
Had Dom? “He always looks at me strange.”
Dad shook his head. “No, different from before. Don’t you see the way he looks at
you?”
Jesse stared blankly at him.
Dad sighed. “When you first showed up with him. After he called you Sinclair. The way
he looked at you... I’d say it was gentle. Warm. Like—you know how I look at your
mom and think she’s the best thing that ever happened to me?”
“But that’s what you think of Mom. Not what Dom thinks of me.”
Dad looked pointedly at him.
“Can’t be,” Jesse said. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what Dom thought of him, aside from
Dom really liked having him in bed. Dom also liked saying sappy shit sometimes. “He
just likes giving me donuts and pounding m—No, forget I said that.”
Dad snorted. “Anyway, after that. After you got out of your room, all the way through
dinner. Felt like... he was in a bad mood. You guys fought?”
Jesse shook his head. Then he looked at his abdomen, and... Yeah. That was what Dom
was still upset about. He sighed, scrubbing his face. “Maybe.”
Dad raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t push. He deserved to know, though. When he’d
been searching for Jesse all these years. At length, Jesse admitted, “He wants something
I can’t give.”
“Love?”
Jesse’s stomach flipped. No, he wasn’t ready to think about that. None of this was
permanent. “Worse. Remember what I said about the experiments?”
He showed his dad the big scar, his heart thumping. Dad had been so accepting of him
all afternoon. But what if this changed everything?
He told Dad about the visit to the medical center. Then he told Dad about the uterus.
“So... I’m pregnant. And he wants the baby.”
That threw Dad for a loop. “Holy fuck, son. Pregnant?”
Jesse looked at his feet, trying to breathe. Maybe this was where he fucked up, and Dad
would tell him to get out. Having a uterus was one thing, but letting another alpha
knock him up?
Dad took a while to digest the news. Then he sniffed at Jesse, and his eyebrows drew
low. Jesse’s stomach twisted. He tried to brace himself for Dad’s disappointment.
But instead of condemning him, Dad wrapped his arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “So
what’re you gonna do about it?”
Relief swelled through Jesse’s chest; he leaned against his dad, a lump forming in his
throat. “Damned if I know.”
He’d looked at the resources Perry sent. He’d considered both alternatives. And every
time he thought about undergoing surgery to remove that thing, he remembered Dom’s
wistfulness, his yearning.
Part of him was ready to give Dom whatever he wanted. The pregnancy, the baby,
everything. No matter how many times it sent him into a panic attack. That scared the
crap out of him. But it was the alien parts influencing him, wasn’t it? The parts that
tried to turn him into an omega?
“How did you decide you wanted kids?” Jesse asked. He hoped his voice wasn’t shaky.
Dad shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “You were an accident. I went along with it, because
your mom was so excited.”
That didn’t help, though. “How’d you decide you loved Mom?”
Dad looked him in the eye. “I’d do anything for her. The moment I figured that out, I
realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I’d regret not doing it.”
Did Jesse... feel that way about Dom? His heart pounded. He didn’t know. It felt like a
commitment he wasn’t ready to make. “Oh.”
Dad patted his shoulder. “Important things to think about.”
Jesse nodded, filing those thoughts away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier,” he
blurted.
Dad frowned. “Why didn’t you?”
Jesse turned his scarred hands over. “Was just—afraid, I guess. I thought you and Mom
might’ve moved on and forgotten about me. The Facility, being stuck there for years...
No one showed up for the longest time. I think it really fucked with my head. I
thought... maybe I was good enough to be sold. And that was it.”
Dad pulled him into a tight hug. “If I’d known where you were, if I had even the
slightest inkling, I would’ve come to get you in a heartbeat. I’m so fucking sorry I
didn’t.”
Jesse breathed out the lump of tightness in his chest. “I don’t blame you, you know. You
couldn’t have known.”
“I blame myself anyway.” Dad kissed his forehead and held him for a long moment.
“You’re my flesh and blood. You’re important, son. You need to remember that. Lots of
people love you. Like your mom and me. Kelly. And your team at the station. And...”
Dad glanced over his shoulder, at the light streaming through the kitchen window.
Jesse knew Dom was in there somewhere, helping Mom roll out some dough.
“If he loved me, he would’ve said something,” Jesse muttered, his heart squeezing.
“Maybe.” Dad looked up at the sky. “Sometimes love comes through in the quietest of
ways. It’s not always the big declarations like it is in the movies.”
They sat on the back porch until darkness fell, and moths came up to flutter around the
porch light. Then they headed into the house, where the aroma of blueberry pie had
filled the air.
Dom was stamping out some dough hearts with a plastic cookie cutter. Mom was
mixing some sugar with cinnamon powder. The moment Jesse and Dad stepped into
the kitchen, Dom looked up, his gaze locking onto Jesse. Jesse’s heart stumbled and
crashed.
“We should head back soon,” Jesse said, trying to find his breath. “I still have to pick up
my bike from the park.”
“Some clothes, too.” Dom sent him a meaningful look—Jesse was sleeping over at his
place tonight.
And now there were butterflies in Jesse’s stomach. Dad’s words couldn’t be true, could
they?
Mom made them wait until the pie was done, before packing some into a box for them
to bring along. Then they bade Jesse’s parents goodbye and set off for home.
An hour’s drive later, they pulled into the park where the barbecue party had been.
Shadows had swallowed the lake; orange lamplight faintly illuminated the pavilion. It
was far too quiet.
Dom pulled up next to Jesse’s bike and parked. Jesse hopped out, his skin prickling.
Maybe it was just the chilly night air.
He unlocked his bike trunk, riffling through its contents. Everything was still there. So
he pulled out his gloves and helmet, expecting to pull them on.
Except there was the faintest, most awful scent of bitterwood in his helmet.
Jesse’s stomach plummeted.
He remembered a dark cell, he remembered being blindfolded, and the scorching lashes
of a whip splitting his back open. He remembered the glint of scalpels before things slid
under his skin. He remembered a cruel smile, he remembered the red-hot agony of a
cattle rod stabbing into his neck. And accompanying all the pain was bitterwood,
everywhere, every time the door slammed open.
Larson had found him.
Jesse swallowed hard, trying to breathe. He scrutinized every shadow, every tree and
shrub around them. But there was only silence.
Dom rolled down the passenger-side window. “Something wrong?”
Jesse tightened his fist around the gloves. “No.”
If he said yes, then Dom would stay. And Dom was no match for Larson. Even with
Jesse by his side. Larson was always several steps ahead of Jesse, he was always armed,
always prepared to take Jesse down. Whatever the cost.
Jesse could deal with it. But Dom—Jesse could not risk his safety. No matter how
capable Dom was.
“Sinclair.”
“I’m fine.”
His heart pounding, Jesse yanked on his helmet, his entire scalp prickling at the scent.
Larson had been through his things. Maybe he’d known Jesse would return for the bike.
And maybe he was already at Jesse’s apartment, waiting.
Jesse couldn’t go home with Dom tonight. Not until he’d made sure Larson was well
and truly dead.
Dom left his truck, stalking over with narrowed eyes. “Something’s wrong.”
Jesse swung his leg over the bike. “I’ll meet you at the house.”
“Sinclair.” Dom grabbed his arm, forcibly turning Jesse’s helmet so their gazes locked.
“What’s wrong?”
Worry flashed through Dom’s eyes. Maybe wariness. And Jesse knew he needed to get
Dom off his tail, as quick as he could. “I’m leaving.”
Dom scowled. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
Dom yanked Jesse’s helmet off. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”
“It means I’m just gonna drop by the apartment,” Jesse snapped. “I’ll get my things,
and I’ll join you.”
For a moment, Dom studied him. Jesse thought Dom would finally let him go.
Instead, Dom leaned in and kissed him hard, pushing his tongue into Jesse’s mouth. He
tasted like roast beef and chai tea, and his was a warm, possessive touch. “I don’t
believe you for a second, Sinclair,” Dom whispered.
“Then don’t,” Jesse growled. “I don’t need you to believe me.”
Dom’s eyes flashed. “Just fucking tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why?” Jesse snatched his helmet back. “I don’t belong to you.”
“I’m your alpha.”
“Like hell you are.” Jesse tugged his helmet back on. “I just asked you to bite me. Not to
bite me there.”
Dom growled, grabbing Jesse’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”
Jesse yanked his arm back. “No.”
“That’s an order, Jesse.”
Like hell he could pull that deputy card out here. Jesse flipped him off. The longer he
stayed, the longer he spent with Dom, the more danger Dom was in. Dom had no
fucking clue how low Larson would sink.
Larson could very well kill Dom, and Dom wouldn’t even know until it was too late.
“It shouldn’t matter this much to you,” Jesse hissed. “My head’s fucked up. I’m just
some guy you happened to sleep with. You—You don’t even love me, anyway.”
He hadn’t meant to let that slip. But he’d been thinking about it the whole way home,
wondering what it’d feel like if Dom loved him. Then he’d tried to convince himself
that it was just a fantasy. And maybe he just wanted proof, once and for all. So he didn’t
have to torment himself wondering what this thing was between them.
Dom froze, his throat working. And, for the longest moment, he didn’t answer.
Dom didn’t love him, then. Jesse’s heart cracked. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. He
shoved his key into the ignition, bringing the bike roaring to life.
“Sinclair,” Dom snapped.
“You know what, maybe this should just be over,” Jesse retorted. No point trying to get
Dom to like him, if Dom was just going to end up hurting him.
He was in the middle of turning the bike around, about to leave, when a black car
pulled into the parking lot, headlights off. The windows were tinted, one halfway rolled
down.
A gun muzzle pointed right at them.
Alarm clawed through Jesse’s nerves. Larson was here. He was here to capture Jesse,
and put him back on the operating table.
Jesse sucked in a deep breath, trying not to panic. He thought about yesterday. Dom
giving him power. You can be strong. You’re strong. Remember you can do anything?
He could leave, and let the car chase him down. But what if Larson shot Dom first?
What if he killed Dom?
Ice sluiced down Jesse’s spine. He pulled the bike around, placing himself between
Dom and the car.
“Sinclair,” Dom muttered. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Protecting you, Jesse didn’t say. No point. “Get in the truck.”
“You’re coming with me.”
With each moment, the car crept closer, gravel crunching under its tires. Jesse was no
longer in the line of sight between Dom and the gun. Dom swore. He’d seen the gun,
then.
Jesse threw down the kickstand, climbing off his bike. He put himself between Dom
and the gun again.
“What the fuck, Sinclair.”
“Get in the truck, now.” Why was Dom being an idiot?
Dom grabbed his arm. A gunshot rang out; the truck pinged. When Jesse looked again,
there was a bullet hole in the side of the truck, punched clean through the metal.
“Fucking leave right now, Dom.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Dom snarled.
“They won’t kill me,” Jesse snapped. “But they will fucking kill you.”
What were the chances of Jesse walking closer, shooting Larson in the head point-
blank? But was Larson the one doing the shooting, or was he driving? Or was he even
in the car at all?
Jesse would go ahead and find out, except the moment they took him down, Dom
would be absolutely defenseless.
“Sinclair,” Dom snapped.
Jesse only half-heard it through the adrenaline. He yanked his gun out. “Not going.
Now fucking get out of here, before I shoot you myself.”
Dom snarled. He strode forward, snatching the gun out of Jesse’s hand. To Jesse’s
horror, Dom stepped in front of him, shooting at the wheels of the car. One popped.
Then the rifle moved, and Jesse knew the second before they pulled the trigger.
He threw himself in front of Dom. An impact went straight into his back like a hard
punch, and pain sluiced white-hot through his body.
“Fuck, Sinclair.” Dom lowered the gun, shoving Jesse up against the truck. Panic
flashed in his eyes. Jesse heaved him off, placing himself back between Dom and the
car.
“I’m fine,” Jesse gritted, breathing out the pain. “Fucking get out before they pull the
tranqs. They’ll save me from an OD. They won’t fucking save you.”
“I won’t leave you.” Dom’s gaze scorched into him.
“Please.” Jesse tightened his fists in Dom’s shirt. Stop being an idiot, Dom. “I’m begging
you. Go.”
He shoved Dom backward, pulling the truck door open. Then he rammed Dom into the
passenger seat cavity—where he’d be safe.
“Sinclair—”
“We won’t both make it out of here. I’m buying you time. Get. Out.”
They exchanged a heated glare. Dom’s lips thinned. Then he reached into the opening
of the helmet, rubbing his thumb across Jesse’s mouth.
“Stay alive,” Dom growled. “I’ll get help.”
Good enough. Jesse peeled away, rounding the truck so the occupants of the black car
could see him again. He pulled his helmet off, tossing it aside. Then, just in case they
couldn’t recognize him, he pulled his shirt off, too. Leaving all his scars exposed.
Behind, Dom started the truck engine. Jesse stepped closer to the car, in front of the gun
muzzle so there was no way they could point it at Dom.
Another gun appeared—smaller, simpler. A tranquilizer gun. Panic bubbled into Jesse’s
veins. He knew where this was headed. He knew he only had half a minute before he
went down, and Dom would lose any time Jesse could buy him.
Behind, the truck reversed. There was a pause. Jesse felt the heat of Dom’s stare. Then
the rifle swiveled and fired, and Jesse panicked, diving for it, trying to stop them from
shooting at the truck.
With a roar, the truck drove away, at the same time the tranquilizer gun popped. A dart
embedded itself into Jesse’s chest. He ripped it out, flinging it aside. Another dart flew
at him. The rifle fired again—all that mattered was that the truck kept going, even as
more darts landed in Jesse’s arms, pumping him full of drugs. He ripped them all out.
Then he listened as the truck turned out of the parking lot, rumbling down the road.
Away from here.
And it didn’t matter so much that Jesse couldn’t stand upright anymore. Dom was safe.
He staggered, trying to keep his feet under himself. He couldn’t. The gravel came up to
meet him, and Jesse smashed into the rough ground, his head swimming, his vision
fogging up.
Voices murmured in the distance. Car doors slammed. Jesse closed his eyes, the pain in
his body fading away.
For the first time, captivity had been his choice. And he didn’t regret it at all.
E VERY LAST INSTINCT screamed at Dom to turn the truck around. Head back. Grab
Sinclair and get him out of there.
He desperately wanted to. It had ripped him apart, hearing the gunshots. Watching
Sinclair in his side view mirrors, Sinclair pulling tiny dart-like things off his skin.
Please, Sinclair had said. I’m begging you.
Dom could count on one hand the number of times Sinclair had begged him for
anything. It didn’t make this right.
But Sinclair had seemed so damn certain that they’d kill Dom. Without knowing what
else was in that car, Dom couldn’t say he was wrong. If Dom had grabbed Sinclair and
driven off, the guys in the car might’ve fired an explosive at them. Or something even
worse.
He could only hope that those guys would keep Sinclair alive, that they wouldn’t kill
him the first chance they got.
His gut clenched. He pulled over onto the road shoulder, calling Nate.
In the time it took for Nate to answer, Dom’s stomach twisted over and over. He
listened out for the sound of an electric car, but there was nothing. Just more silence.
“Dom?” Nate asked. His tinny voice gave Dom scant relief.
“They got him,” Dom said. “We were ambushed.”
Nate swore. “Where are you?”
“At the park. Just down the road, at the first turnout. What do I do?”
“Have you called 911?”
“I’ll get on that.”
“Stay low,” Nate warned. “I’m on my way. But I can’t promise we’ll get him back
tonight.”
Dom didn’t know how to deal with that. “Right.”
He pulled the truck further off the road and cut the engine, the better to hide it from
sight. Then he called the police, gave them the details, and waited.
He couldn’t help thinking about Sinclair’s words before the car showed up. Sinclair
saying maybe they should break up. Sinclair had asked if Dom loved him, and Dom
couldn’t give him an answer. Because he’d still been trying to protect his heart. Because
it had taken him years and decades to fix it.
Dom still remembered Mal promising he’d be okay. Mal had been all weary and sad,
and Dom had made him swear not to leave the house. He’d made Mal all the food he
loved, he’d made sure Mal had been comfortable in bed. Then Dom had said I love you,
and he’d left for a shift at the station.
Mal must’ve calculated the exact moment he’d wanted to die, because it was only when
Dom was on the way home, freshly off-duty, that he’d received the call.
Mal had promised. And he’d been a mess of broken parts at the foot of the building,
and Dom had just... frozen. He’d gone into shock.
Over and over, he’d gone back to that moment before he’d left, wondering what he’d
done wrong. Whether he should’ve done more, whether he should’ve said something
aside from I love you. Then he’d realized that he shouldn’t have fallen in love at all,
except that had been so far out of his control by that point.
Dom remembered the grief, he remembered himself shattering, and he’d thought... If
Sinclair didn’t know, then maybe it would be fine. Sinclair couldn’t do a damn thing to
hurt Dom.
And now this.
He rubbed his face, trying not to think about Sinclair standing between him and the
gun. The whole time, Sinclair had been trying to shield Dom with his own fucking
body. As though he didn’t matter. As though he could throw his life away, and he
thought Dom would be fine with it.
Just like Mal. Dom groaned, trying to shove Sinclair out of his head—except he knew he
couldn’t.
If you don’t want to sacrifice the rest of your team, I’ll do it, Sinclair had said that very first
day. How had Dom not seen that similarity until now?
Vaguely, Dom heard the steady beat of something approaching—not cars. Not an
animal. It was a low mechanical whirring, like... a helicopter. The police?
He started the truck, craning his neck out the window. No searchlight from the
helicopter, though. Then the trees rustled, and the sound skimmed over his head,
making straight for the parking lot he’d left.
Dom’s heart thumped. He turned the truck around, stepping on the gas. Maybe they’d
capture those guys, take them down, and Sinclair would be safe.
He slowed down closer to the parking lot. No gunfire. That was odd. Had the police
managed to corner them, somehow? Get them to surrender?
On instinct, he turned off his headlights. So he wouldn’t distract anyone. He pulled into
the parking lot, and—
Sinclair had collapsed. He was on some sort of stretcher. They were lifting him into the
helicopter. The car doors were all wide open; it was empty.
One of the figures in the distance reloaded the rifle. The others checked the car. Then
one of them looked up and spotted Dom’s truck. They must’ve told the guy with the
rifle, because he aimed at Dom.
Dom swerved the truck just as a gunshot exploded. A bullet cracked the other side of
the windshield—where Dom would’ve been if he hadn’t switched directions.
Sinclair had been right. They would absolutely kill Dom.
Except Dom wasn’t about to let them leave with Sinclair. He stepped on the gas,
heading straight for the helicopter. They couldn’t take something that was his. He’d
already made a mistake by leaving.
Rage filled his chest; he snarled and accelerated, counting the seconds until they hit the
chopper. He was almost there. Sinclair had disappeared into the helicopter—if Dom hit
it sideways and just toppled it over...
Three seconds from collision, the helicopter peeled away from the ground. The figures
had all climbed in, and the sniper had his muzzle aimed at Dom.
Dom swerved again; another gunshot rang out. This time, a bullet grazed his arm. Dom
didn’t care. All he knew was that the helicopter was pulling into the air, taking off, and
there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, blasting the horn. But the helicopter was
already disappearing into the night, high up above him. Completely out of reach.
In the distance, sirens wailed. Dom cut the engine, throwing his head back against the
seat. They’d taken Sinclair. Sinclair wasn’t conscious—Dom didn’t even know if he was
alive.
He ignored the police cars pulling into the parking lot, and the officers that streamed
out, their weapons drawn, their red-and-blue lights illuminating the surrounding trees.
By the time they gathered enough resources, they’d have lost track of the helicopter.
They wouldn’t have any fucking clue where those bastards had taken Dom’s alpha.
All because Dom had decided to listen to Sinclair, and leave.
Slightly later, after the police had taken Dom’s statement and left him alone, Nate came
up, his expression grave. “Thought I told you to stay low.”
Dom tried to suppress the burning in his chest. “They took him away in a chopper.
How was I supposed to stay low?”
Nate surveyed the police. In a lower tone, he said, “Might be the best thing to do, short
term. Let them go.”
Dom almost punched him. “What the fuck?”
“They took him down with tranq darts, didn’t they?” Nate waited for Dom to nod.
“Every one of those darts was an overdose.”
That stirred something in Dom’s memory. “He said they’d save him from an OD.”
“Yeah.” Nate glanced at the sky. “If you’d delayed them, or if you’d taken most of them
down, then they wouldn’t have been able to administer the antidote. He would’ve
died.”
A cold chill went down Dom’s spine. “What?”
“They’ve done that to him several times. Mostly before they bring him to the operating
room. They’d shoot him up with drugs, enough to give him multiple organ failure if the
doses weren’t reversed. Then they’d bring him to the operating room, switch him to IV,
and pull him off the overdose.”
Dom tried not to think about those people fucking with Sinclair’s life like that. Taking
him to the brink of death, over and over. His heart felt like it might shred itself.
Nate led them away from the police. “He’s lived under Larson’s rule for years, Dom. He
knows what that man wants, and how to stay alive.” Before Dom could protest, Nate
said, “On this, you’ll need to trust him.”
“He fucking put himself in front of their gun,” Dom hissed.
Nate’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
Dom didn’t want to admit it. In the end, he did. “He took a shot for me. He stood in
front of them until I left the parking lot. I don’t even know if they hit a vital.”
“They’ll save him.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” Dom snapped.
“Because he’s worth billions on the black market. Or didn’t he mention it?”
No, Dom hadn’t known that, either.
“He was one of the first with successfully-implanted omega organs. Larson was trying
to sell him as a virgin.”
Who the fuck did that? And how had Sinclair not been bought? Because Dom would’ve
paid any price for him, really. Anything to see him again. To have him. Except buying
Sinclair wouldn’t have endeared him to Dom. No buyer would have seen that soft smile
on Sinclair’s lips, they wouldn’t have him so hungry for kisses, not like he’d been in
Dom’s arms.
Everything he’d done with Dom, Sinclair had absolutely wanted to happen. The
fighting, the sex, the kisses.
A horrible thought occurred to him. “So if—if he isn’t a virgin anymore...”
Nate glanced sidelong at Dom. “Yeah, he might’ve lost a lot of his market value. I can’t
be sure what Larson will do when he finds out. He prized Jesse above all the rest.”
Dom forgot to breathe. He’d seen every scar on Sinclair’s body. The monster who had
done that—he wouldn’t flinch at giving Sinclair more. Ten times the number of scars.
He wouldn’t flinch at mutilating Sinclair. Breaking his bones. Torturing him.
Sinclair had stepped up to the car, knowing all of that would happen.
So Dom could escape.
Dom rubbed his face, his heart splintering.
Sinclair was a bastard. But Dom was even more of one. Because Sinclair had said, You
don’t love me, and Dom had let him believe it. And the heartbreak in Sinclair’s eyes had
told Dom everything he needed to know.
Dom had let Sinclair go, thinking he meant nothing to Dom. When in truth, Dom would
give up everything so he could have Sinclair by his side again.
If he—When he got to see Sinclair again, Dom wouldn’t be an idiot anymore. He’d
already lost his alpha. Maybe Sinclair wouldn’t stay with him forever, maybe Sinclair
would break his heart in return. Dom wanted a shot at it anyway. It was worth it.
Sinclair was worth it.
Dom wanted a life with that alpha, he wanted that cinnamon scent in his chest and his
home. Anything Sinclair wanted, Dom would give to him. Because his smile was what
Dom treasured the most.
“What are we going to do?” he asked Nate. “Because losing him isn’t an option.”
Nate smiled. “I have some ideas.”

J ESSE SNAPPED awake to sharp pain cracking through his body.
“Unacceptable. Four years I’ve been away, and you’ve let the fruits of my labor go
down the drain.”
That cold, calculating voice appeared sometimes in Jesse’s nightmares. He’d always
been so relieved when he woke, and realized he was no longer at the Facility.
Except the pain didn’t abate from his body this time. In fact, there were more sources of
it. In his arms, his hip, needles already embedded in various parts of his flesh.
The lash came down, splitting the bare skin of his thighs. Pain shot through his legs,
and an instinctual rage snarled in Jesse’s chest. He swore, lunging up. Heavy chains
dug into his shoulders and arms. He struggled against them, needing to hurt, needing to
erase Larson before his anxiety exploded.
“What the fuck do you want?” he spat.
Larson chuckled darkly. “Only what was owed to me.”
Something moved to the side—a person in a white coat. Jesse blinked several times, but
his fuzzy vision didn’t clear. He could barely make out the gray walls of the room, the
glinting chains wrapped around his naked body. A tray perched to his side, filled with
blurry scalpels and syringes—tools that Larson was planning to use on him. Today.
Now.
This wasn’t another dream.
Larson busied himself. Jesse tried to breathe. Vaguely, he heard the heart monitor next
to him, telling Larson about his climbing pulse. He glimpsed machines and other
equipment lined up on a counter, some petri dishes sitting next to them. Some other
figures moved—Larson’s staff, all dressed up in lab coats. Probably the same people
who had taken Jesse down.
“Your drug tolerance has slipped,” Larson commented, picking up a syringe and a vial.
“Such a disappointment. We’ll work on that today.”
He filled the syringe with fluid and pushed its needle into Jesse’s skin. Dull pain
throbbed through Jesse’s arm.
“One of my favorites,” Larson added. “Such an entertaining toxin.”

Larson’s favorite experiments were the ones that drew a physical reaction. The ones that
made Jesse’s heart stop, the ones that made him froth at the mouth, all but writhing in
agony.
For so long, Jesse had looked over his shoulder, vigilant, half-expecting to be attacked
with no way of protecting himself. He’d run through various scenarios: being drugged,
being captured again. He’d gone into so many panic attacks, thinking he was back at
the Facility.
And here Larson was, picking up a scalpel, tracing its pointed end down Jesse’s chest.
He was Jesse’s worst nightmare. Jesse struggled with the fear clogging up his throat, the
helplessness that made him want to lash out. All his instincts screamed at him to run.
He couldn’t.
“While that shot settles in, we’ll investigate this curious protrusion.” Larson’s scalpel
paused at the start of Jesse’s abdomen, where the bump was.
Jesse froze. His heart pounded. And an amused smile spread across Larson’s face.
“Oh, did you find out about this little surprise?”
“Fuck off,” Jesse snarled.
Larson pushed the scalpel into Jesse’s skin, breaking it. Jesse stopped breathing. And
the doctor brought their faces close, all the cheer slipping away from his expression,
leaving a chilling stare. “It seems you’re no longer a virgin.” The doctor had awful sour
breath. “We’ll replace your internal organs and restore you to your previous glory.”
Oily horror slid through Jesse’s veins. “You can’t do that.”
“Of course we can.” Larson drew his scalpel down, opening more and more of Jesse’s
midsection—a shallow incision. Pain bloomed through Jesse’s insides. “I’ve already
harvested some cells. In a few months, we’ll have everything to make you completely
untouched. This should go, too. We’ll put in an uncontaminated one.”
Larson called one of his assistants over. Jesse watched in horror as the scalpel dug
deeper into him. Straight for the uterus.
He’d been wavering over that thing inside him for the past several weeks. He still
hadn’t decided if he wanted it. It had come from Larson.
But seeing Larson’s scalpel now—he wasn’t giving Jesse a choice at all. And Dom
wanted that baby. That was Dom’s baby that Larson was about to pull out.
Dom had tried damn fucking hard to get Jesse to leave the parking lot with him. He’d
been there, over and over, lifting Jesse out of his bad moments. Jesse had wanted to go
home with Dom, he’d wanted to share Dom’s bed again, because he’d felt so damn safe
in Dom’s arms.
Now that Jesse had been captured... If he never managed to see Dom again, if Larson
was too late to administer an antidote and Jesse died at his hands—that baby was all
Jesse had left of his alpha. A reminder of the kindness Dom had shown him.
He couldn’t let Larson take that baby.
He twisted himself away; the scalpel slipped and dug into his side. “You don’t need
that out,” Jesse hissed.
Annoyance flickered through Larson’s face. Then, a calculating delight. “Have you...
become attached to this?”
He stroked Jesse’s abdomen with the back of his scalpel, looking thoughtful. “What if I
let you keep the fetus?” Larson asked slowly. “Maybe we should observe this
pregnancy. I’ll remove it closer to the due date.”
Jesse didn’t dare to breathe. That sounded too good to be true. What was the catch?
Larson picked up another vial. “Of course, we should resume the toxin trials.” Larson’s
smile grew. “I wonder how that would affect the fetus.”
Jesse’s stomach turned so hard, he thought he would throw up right there. “No,” he
snarled, yanking at his bonds, trying to break them. Something had to give. And then
he’d kill Larson, once and for all.
Larson leaned away, pushing a syringe into the new vial. “This one interacts with the
previous toxin,” he said. “It’ll get better.”
Jesse snarled and thrashed. The doctor jabbed the syringe into his side. Pain clawed
through Jesse; he panted and tried to breathe through it, but his lungs were closing up,
his throat tightening. His vision flickered into darkness, and then it came back.
He couldn’t let Larson do this to him. He had someone to protect.
Jesse roared and heaved, and the metal chains snapped somewhere, freeing his shoulder
and arm. His fist connected with Larson’s nose, crunching it. Larson’s glasses broke;
fury flashed in his eyes.
“Ingrate,” Larson snapped. He waved his assistants over. They drew their tranquilizer
guns, and Larson picked his scalpel back up. “Maybe you should be taught a lesson.”
Jesse had the faint thought that maybe Dom might not arrive in time with his help. He
wished desperately that he could see Dom again. He wished that he could’ve left Dom
on a brighter note. That he could’ve told Dom it didn’t matter whether Dom loved him
or not, Jesse would keep the baby. Because it was Dom’s, because his entire soul was
Dom’s.
He fought down the panic surging through his chest, yanking hard on his other arm.
More chains snapped; he could sit up now. His legs were still tied.
“Fire,” Larson ordered.
Darts shot into Jesse’s arms, his chest. He yanked them out and lunged. In the split
second before he toppled the table with his momentum, Jesse plunged the darts into
Larson’s neck.
His weight took him down; the needles snapped. He fell onto the floor with the doctor
beneath him, Larson swearing.
Then the doctor stabbed his scalpel into Jesse’s middle, right where the uterus was.
Jesse’s conscious mind shut down. It left only his instincts, and the roaring fear that
pounded through his veins.
He was going to kill.

D OM DIDN ’ T KNOW how many strings Nate pulled, but it was probably enough to
weave a blanket.
The blades of the helicopter whirred above. Nate was silent as he scrutinized the
landscape, guiding the chopper over the forest, then some hills. In the distance, the
rising sun tinted the sky a pale orange.
It had been hours.
Dom swallowed the anxiety that crept up his throat. He needed to be at Sinclair’s side
right now. Hours ago. But Nate had only just managed to track down some leads.
Worse, they weren’t guaranteed to point toward Sinclair.
He palmed the gun in his pocket—Sinclair’s—and some tranquilizer antidotes they’d

managed to borrow from the station. Would those be enough? Dom didn’t know.
He held his breath, thinking up the words to apologize to Sinclair. He tried to convince
himself that this lead might be a bust. That maybe they wouldn’t find Sinclair today or
tomorrow, or the whole of next week.
His stomach tightened.
“There’s a small abandoned town coming up.” Nate’s voice rang through the headset.
“I see some vehicles. We’ll find a secluded spot to land and proceed from there.”
“I’m sending the police our coordinates,” Taylor said. He was an omega Nate had
brought along, and he was at the back of the helicopter, typing into a laptop. “No
movement on the radar.”
“Thanks.”
Dom’s pulse ramped up as Nate found a clearing in the forest, parking them neatly out
of sight.
“I’ll stay.” Taylor moved into the pilot’s seat after Dom and Nate stepped out. “Radio if
you need help.”
Nate waved. Dom jogged with him through the forest, toward the town they’d
glimpsed from the air. It was a dusty place, with deserted buildings and graffitied
walls.
They found a helicopter halfway into town, in front of a dentist’s office. Two other cars
were parked next to it—both new, one from out of state. Dom forced his breathing to
even out.
“Found them,” Nate said into his radio. “I’m estimating at least five people in there. We
may need backup.”
“I’m on my way,” Taylor said.
Even with his help, Dom wasn’t sure how they’d manage, outnumbered as they were.
Hell, Nate and Taylor were the ones experienced in infiltrations. Dom was just an
ordinary firefighter. He hated that he wasn’t good with this.
“We’ll need you to stay out here,” Nate told Dom. “Gonna be a mess.”
Dom was about to agree, when a snarl ripped through the air. Sinclair. Relief seeped
through Dom’s veins. He’s here.
Through an open window somewhere, Dom heard people shouting. Things crashed.
And a bad feeling crushed his relief—Sinclair was only this way when he had an
episode. “He might not be present right now,” Dom muttered. “Doubt he’ll recognize
you.”
Nate’s lips thinned; he was familiar with Sinclair’s flashbacks. He radioed Taylor and
repeated Dom’s words. Then he added, “Looks like we’re heading in now.”
Sinclair had bought them a distraction—Dom would hate to let the opportunity go to
waste.
His heart pounding, he followed Nate through a side entrance, pressing himself against
the wall. Someone stepped out of a doorway; Nate slipped behind the man and took
him out, leaving him slumped on the floor.
Nate was efficient. Ruthless. Not for the first time, Dom was glad he’d hired this alpha.
Nate scoped out the room the man had vacated, before signaling Dom to follow him
down the hallway, where the fight was still going on.
“Restrain him,” someone snapped. “Hand me the antidote!”
Down the corridor, in the very last room, Dom glimpsed Sinclair lunging at someone,
punching people aside—all tan skin, scars, and blood. Chains rattled.
Then a scalpel flashed, and Sinclair froze. He bolted through the doorway, chains
rattling, heading straight for Nate and Dom.
The moment he glimpsed them, Sinclair raised his fists, baring his teeth. He would
crash into them, fight them tooth and nail like he thought they were enemies—and he
would only hurt himself.
Dom stepped in front of Nate. “I’ll handle him.”
Nate nodded. Dom lunged at Sinclair; Sinclair snarled and slammed him into the wall,
knocking Dom’s breath out of his lungs.
Further away, Sinclair’s captors shouted. Dom glimpsed Nate slipping away to deal
with them. Then Sinclair rammed him against the wall, hard enough that the impact
jolted through Dom’s skull. He hissed in pain. “Damn it, Sinclair!”
Dom shoved him off, hauling him through an open door. Then he slammed the door
shut and locked it, a split second before Sinclair pummeled him into the wall, wrapping
his hands around Dom’s neck.
“Sinclair,” Dom hissed. Sinclair wasn’t fucking around, his grip almost crushing Dom’s
throat. No recognition in his eyes. “Jesse.”
Dom wrenched Sinclair’s hands off his neck, filling his lungs with air. Sinclair tried to
punch him next. Dom dodged, heaving Sinclair backward. While Sinclair was off-
balance, Dom slammed him against the wall. Then he pinned Sinclair with his own
weight, and Sinclair thrashed, his expression going desperate.
“Jesse. Look at me.” Dom pressed their foreheads together, his heart pounding. Still no
recognition. “Jesse!”
Sinclair punched the side of his head, sending an explosion of pain through Dom’s
skull. Dom caught his hands. Then he brought their faces back together, so close that
Sinclair’s eyes blurred into a mess of blue.
“Jesse,” Dom growled. “Breathe.”
Sinclair panted, glancing down. He shoved his hand into Dom’s pocket—where the gun
was. Faster than Dom could stop him, he snatched the gun out and clicked off the
safety.
He shoved the steel muzzle against Dom’s chest.
Dom stopped breathing. If Sinclair shot him now... Dom wouldn’t even be mad. “Don’t
shoot,” Dom murmured. “At least, wait until you’re back. Then you can do anything
you want.”
Sinclair panted, tightening his finger on the trigger. Dom waited for pain. He didn’t
know what had happened to Sinclair, to send him into this state. But he didn’t break
their stare. Violence wouldn’t solve this.
“Jesse,” Dom said gently. “I’m here to help. Let’s get you out of here. Breathe first.”
Sinclair looked into his eyes, hesitated, and breathed. Then he breathed again, like
maybe Dom’s scent had an effect on him.
“I love you,” Dom said. “It’s not the best time to be saying it. But I thought you should
know.”
Sinclair sucked in another breath, then another. His eyes focused. He leaned back and
frowned, as though he recognized Dom.
Then he saw the gun he was pointing at Dom, and he dropped it, shock darting through
his face. The gun fired, loud and jarring, pointed away. “I didn’t—I, I...”
“Sinclair,” Dom murmured.
Sinclair wheezed, staring at the gun like he might go into another episode.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Dom took Sinclair’s hand, giving him a squeeze.
“But—” Sinclair squinted, searching Dom’s eyes. He was worried. Afraid. Did he think
Dom would cast him aside because of that?
“I’m fine.” Dom cupped his jaw, brushing his thumb over Sinclair’s lips—a bit of
intimacy he allowed himself. “You okay?”
Sinclair shook his head. “Baby,” he rasped. Then he rubbed the bump of his abdomen,
smearing blood all over his skin. There was a long incision down his abs, next to a
puncture wound. Dom hadn’t noticed them earlier. A chill shot down his spine. How
deep were those wounds?
“Is the baby okay?” Dom ripped his shirt off and balled it up, pressing it against
Sinclair’s wounds to stem the bleeding. He was almost afraid to hear the answer.
Sinclair shook his head, groaning. Dom’s heart sank. Had something happened to their
baby? Had they... lost it? He felt helpless, raw—maybe the same sort of loss that had
sent Sinclair into a rage.
He pulled Sinclair tight against himself, rubbing his back. There were patches of raw
skin all over his alpha, lash marks, needle punctures. And Sinclair had only been
missing for a few hours.
“Dom,” Sinclair breathed. He touched Dom’s waist uncertainly. Then he wobbled,
shaking his head as though he was trying to clear his thoughts.
Sinclair threw up all over Dom’s chest, frothy bubbles that Dom had only rarely seen
before. He’d been poisoned.
How long did he have without an antidote? His stomach clenching, Dom leaned
Sinclair against the wall.
The door slammed open, splintering around the bolted lock.
Dom whirled around, placing himself between Sinclair and the intruder.
A man strode in, a gun pointed at them both. “I’ve had enough of you,” he snapped.
Blood trickled down the side of his neck; his nose was broken. “I built you into the most
powerful tool on the planet. And you attacked me.”
Behind Dom, Sinclair spat and coughed. “Fucker.”
“Maybe I won’t save you from the toxins this time,” the doctor said.
This was the monster who had tortured Sinclair. The monster who had cut into Sinclair,
over and over, hundreds—if not thousands—of times. The monster who had
experimented with Sinclair’s life, taking him to the brink of death and back. Sinclair had
been a child.
Fury boiled through Dom’s veins; he snatched the gun off the floor and aimed it at the
doctor. “Give him the antidote.”
The doctor scoffed. “Or else what? You’ll kill me?”
Then he pointed his gun at Sinclair, and Dom’s insides twisted. He darted in front of his
alpha, just as a gunshot blasted through the room.
Agony lanced through his arm. He fired back, two shots. Then another.
It was only when the doctor collapsed with a heavy thump, that Dom looked back,
checking Sinclair for any injuries. Their gazes locked; Sinclair wheezed, his expression
disbelieving. He’d seen Dom take the shot for him.
But Dom didn’t have time to acknowledge it. He stalked over to the doctor, his gun
trained on that monster. “What did you poison him with?”
He wasn’t fool enough to think he had leverage on that bastard. He’d have to count on
Nate—hopefully Nate was okay—and maybe Nate could save Sinclair. Whatever he
had to do.
Because Dom couldn’t lose his alpha.
Dom was about to kick the doctor, when the doctor aimed his gun past Dom’s feet, at
Sinclair. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Dom didn’t even think. He shot thrice at the doctor’s head, and then he kept on
shooting, until he’d emptied every last bullet into that scum.
It was only when the roaring in his chest quieted, when his instincts said, No one will
harm Sinclair again, that Dom dragged his stare away from the body.
Through the ringing in his ears, Dom heard Sinclair hit the floor. His stomach clenched.
He darted back to Sinclair, heaving him upright. “Sinclair. Stay with me.”
Sinclair shook his head, throwing up again.
Dom yanked his radio out, his senses blaring with alarm. “Nate, are you there?”
“On my way. What’s your status?”
“Same place. He’s been poisoned. I need help.”
Nate swore. “Be right there.”
“You’ve been shot,” Sinclair muttered, his gaze going unfocused. “You need help.”
“Shut up,” Dom hissed. “You don’t get to decide anything right now.”
“Fuck you.”
A tight, heavy emotion welled up in Dom’s throat. He pressed his shirt back against
Sinclair’s middle, over the puncture wound. Then, carefully, he cradled Sinclair’s head,
kissing his lips.
“Stay with me, all right?” Dom murmured. “I can’t lose you.”
Sinclair huffed weakly. “I don’t die so easy.”
But he was breathing harder, his face pale, sweat beading on his skin. Dom held him
close, blood and vomit and all. Then he pressed a soft kiss to Sinclair’s temple and
whispered, “I love you.”
Sinclair didn’t answer, though. When Dom pulled away, he found that Sinclair had
passed out.
W HEN J ESSE WOKE , he found himself surrounded by white walls and a sterile scent. His
heart lodged in his throat.
“Easy there.” A familiar rumble slipped into his ears; callused fingers squeezed his
hand. “You’re safe.”
The anxiety in Jesse’s chest eased a little. Then he noticed the blackwood scent, and the
broad-shouldered figure in the chair next to his bed. Relief flooded through his chest.
“Dom.”
“Still remember my name?” Dom cracked a smile. “Weren’t you supposed to call me a
bastard?”
A low groan slipped out of Jesse’s throat. Dom was here. Everything would be fine. His
entire body relaxed; he could breathe again.
The moment he focused on Dom, Jesse couldn’t look away.
Dom had a day’s growth of stubble on his jaw, his lips ever so kissable, his hair mussed,
like he’d been running his fingers through it. But his gaze—that was fixed on Jesse,
looking so warm that Jesse’s heart skipped a beat. “How’re you feeling?” Dom asked.
Jesse hurt all over, but that was nothing new. “Fine.”
Dom frowned and leaned forward. “I need a better answer, Sinclair. You were shot,
poisoned, stabbed, and who knows what else.”
Jesse shrugged. “What’s new?”
For a moment, Dom looked pissed. But that moment passed, and he breathed out his
anger. “He’s dead. Larson.”
Jesse’s spirits lifted. “He is?”
“How much of your kidnapping do you remember?”
Jesse shook his head, riffling through his memories. Some of it was a blur. There were
patches missing. He remembered Larson and the syringes, Larson stabbing Jesse with
his scalpel. Jesse’s stomach shrank into a lump. “The baby.” Was it... gone?
Dom squeezed his hand, his expression unreadable. “Did you make a decision?”
Jesse nodded. “Yeah. I want it.”
And he hoped it wasn’t too late.
Surprise flickered through Dom’s face. Then he cracked a smile, pressing a kiss to
Jesse’s knuckles. “Baby’s fine. He missed the uterus by half an inch.”
Jesse breathed out shakily, sagging back into the bed. It felt like all his muscles had
decided to take a break at the same time. “Oh. What about—What about the poisons?
Did they hurt it?”
“We gave you the antidotes in time. It’s really fine, Sinclair.” Dom stroked the back of
his hand, waiting until Jesse relaxed again. After a pause, Dom asked, “What made you
change your mind?”
Jesse remembered thinking about Dom, he remembered the connection he’d felt to that
life inside him, right as Larson cut him open. “It’s yours,” he said.
Then he flushed. Dom wasn’t supposed to find out what Jesse felt for him.
But Dom frowned. “I won’t force you to keep it just because it’s mine.”
“No, it’s not that.” Jesse wet his lips. “I want it because it’s yours.”
His face grew hot. That was almost as good as a love declaration, wasn’t it? After he’d
told Dom I hate you so many times, it wasn’t something he expected to say to this alpha.
Dom stared at him for a moment. Then he pulled his chair closer, his voice dropping
low. “Yeah? You want to raise a family with me?”
How had a discussion about a baby turned into that? Jesse’s head grew so hot, it felt like
he might pass out. “It’s too—too early to think about it,” he spluttered.
Dom’s smile didn’t even fade. In fact, he moved to sit on the mattress, linking their
fingers together. There were bandages on his arm, a trace of blood soaking through the
gauze.
Jesse remembered that, too. Dom taking the shot for him. Dom turning to make sure he
was okay. In his heart, he thought... maybe that meant Dom loved him. But Dom would
do the same for anyone else on their team. “You took a shot for me,” he said. And Dom
had been lucky that bullet hadn’t hit his artery.
“Yeah, well.” Dom shrugged, the movement causing him to wince a little. “You took a
shot for me, so we’re even.”
That wasn’t what Jesse wanted to hear. He looked away, trying to hide his
disappointment.
Except Dom leaned in, bracing his good arm against Jesse’s pillow. And now their faces
were inches apart. “Did you want me to say something else?” Dom murmured.
Jesse’s heart squeezed tight. Had Dom read him? “No,” he mumbled.
Dom brought their faces closer, his lips brushing Jesse’s cheek. “I told you,” he
whispered. “You don’t lie so well, Sinclair.”
Jesse couldn’t breathe. Dom was pressed up against him. They’d been close before, but
this... It felt like Dom knew his last secret. And Jesse wanted him to know, at the same
time he was afraid of it. What would Dom do with that knowledge? It wasn’t like Dom
loved him back.
Dom cupped Jesse’s face with his other hand, pressing their foreheads together. And
suddenly there was only Dom and nothing else, and all he could breathe was Dom’s
scent. Jesse’s heart pounded so fervently, he thought it might burst.
“I love you,” Dom whispered, his breath hot on Jesse’s lips.
Jesse froze, the words ringing in his ears. He’d thought he’d heard it, back when he was
coming down from his episode. He thought he’d heard it again, later on, but he’d
dismissed it as a fever dream.
He stared at Dom now, hardly daring to believe it. They were teammates. They were
alphas. They weren’t supposed to fall in love. Except he’d heard Dom’s words, clear as
anything.
It was what he’d wanted for a long time. His throat grew so tight, he couldn’t speak.
“You’re kidding.”
“Do I ever joke?” Dom brushed his cheek, his gaze never once leaving Jesse’s face.
“Want me to say it again?”
Jesse nodded. He still couldn’t breathe.
Dom dropped trailing kisses down Jesse’s cheek, to his ear. Then he growled, “I love
you, Sinclair.”
Jesse’s heart squeezed tight. Dom loves me. “But—But why?”
Dom huffed. “That’s not good enough for you?”

“No,” Jesse said, because he needed to believe it. “You know me better than anyone
else. I’ve been captured, Dom. I’ve been tied down and—” He looked at the bump of his
abdomen. “I couldn’t stop a lot of the things Larson did. I tried. I wasn’t strong
enough.”
He was still ashamed of it, even now. Even though his mom and dad had accepted him.
But they were his parents. Maybe they were supposed to.
Dom was different. Dom was an alpha. Someone who didn’t need another alpha. Much
less one who was fractured like Jesse was. Dom could have his own standards of what
an alpha should be, and... Jesse was always afraid to ask if he met those standards.
Dom cradled his head, looking into his eyes. “You’re strong.”
“All alphas are supposed to be strong.”
Dom huffed and kissed him. “You’ve been through a lot more than most alphas. I can’t
say I could undergo what you have, and come out nearly as intact.”
“But you’re a dom.”
Dom smiled wryly. “And it’d be a great honor for you to be my alpha.”
Jesse’s heart tumbled. Dom accepted him for who he was. “You haven’t given me
enough proof yet.”
Dom laughed. “You’re not bitter about your past. At least, not as bitter as I’d expect you
to be.”
“I just want it behind me.” Jesse scowled.
“Yeah. Not everyone can do that.” Dom kissed his jaw. “You’re kind—”
“So’s everyone else on the team. You aren’t sleeping with them.”
“Nor do I want to.”
“Why not?”
Dom grinned. “Do you want to, then? Sleep with Gareth or York or—”
That was a horrible thought. “Shut up.” But it wouldn’t get his question answered.
“Forget it. Just answer this one. You could’ve fallen for them anyway.”
Dom looked thoughtful. “But they’re not you. They don’t need me. They don’t eat my
donuts, or fight with me. No one has challenged me like you do,” Dom growled, biting
Jesse’s lip so hard, he broke skin. “I fucking love it.”
Pain throbbed lightly on Jesse’s lip, but it was a welcome sensation. Because Dom was
marking him again. Because Dom was giving him a fierce look, and he was smiling, all
but wrapped around Jesse, his lips and his scent and his touch on Jesse’s skin. Jesse’s
heart swelled so full, he couldn’t speak.
“You hated me for a long time,” he finally said.
Dom looked away. “I didn’t hate you.”
“You sure said a lot of shit to me.”
Dom didn’t answer for a stretch. Finally, he met Jesse’s eyes. “I didn’t want this to
happen.” He splayed his hand across Jesse’s chest, right over his heart. “Remember I
said I lost my omega? He—Mal and I were married for years. He left me. Suicide.
Whiskey sours were his favorite.”
And suddenly Jesse understood why Dom always picked that drink at bar nights. He’d
tried to hurt Dom with that smart-ass remark, but... he’d ended up hurting Dom a
different way, hadn’t he? Guilty, Jesse said, “I’m sorry I said that shit. About it being an
omega’s drink.”
Dom gave a crooked smile. “You didn’t know how right you were.”
For the first time that Jesse could remember, Dom looked somber, vulnerable. “Mal
wasn’t right in the head,” Dom continued. “I was fine with it, but... he broke a promise.
He said he wouldn’t leave, and he did.”
After a long pause, Dom added quietly, “I was afraid of you doing the same. Still am.”
Jesse’s heart ached. All this time, he’d thought Dom was being an asshole, when in
truth, Dom was terrified of being hurt again.
“You were an asshole since that very first day,” Jesse said.
Dom cracked a smile. “Because I wanted you ever since that day.”
Jesse stopped breathing. That was... a long time. Years. He took Dom’s hand, sitting up.
That made his body hurt all over; he hissed.
“Lie back down.” Dom glared. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse.” Jesse sat so they faced each other, their thighs brushing, Dom’s
fingers tangled in his own. “I’m not leaving.”
Surprise flickered in Dom’s gaze, followed by doubt.

“I told you,” Jesse said. “I don’t die so easy.”
Dom narrowed his eyes. “Nate had to give you emergency antidotes. That was even
before we got you on the chopper and flew over here. You almost fucking died,
Sinclair.”
“But I’m still here.” And Larson was dead. And maybe now Jesse’s nightmares would
finally stop.
Dom glowered harder. “This isn’t a joke,” he hissed, leaning closer like he wanted to
threaten Jesse into submission.
But Jesse understood him now. He understood that Dom was angry because he was
afraid. He understood that when Dom had let Jesse fuck him, it was because he’d
wanted to give Jesse strength. When Dom had taken the shot for him, he’d wanted Jesse
to be alive.
Even though Jesse was probably the most broken alpha there was.
Jesse grabbed Dom’s face and crushed their mouths together, tasting Dom, pushing his
tongue inside. So he could claim Dom, and tell him how much he meant to Jesse. Jesse
wanted to tell Dom he wouldn’t leave, he wanted to make all the promises so Dom
wouldn’t have to worry again.
Dom growled and slid their tongues together, sending a jolt of electricity down Jesse’s
spine. He tasted like black coffee—possibly Jesse’s favorite flavor in the world. Jesse bit
down hard on Dom’s lip, enough that he bled. So they had matching marks on their
bodies again.
“I’m gonna stick around,” Jesse growled. “And I’m gonna salt your coffee forever.
You’re gonna get so sick of me, Dom.”
“Brat,” Dom answered, but there was a smile in his voice. Relief, too. He shoved Jesse
down against the pillows, sliding into Jesse’s mouth, claiming Jesse so thoroughly that
Jesse only knew his alpha, Dom’s weight on him, Dom’s scent filling his lungs.
It was the best feeling in the world.
“I love you,” Jesse blurted.
Because Dom accepted him completely—his scars, his past, the parts that made him
strange. Dom had been patient with him. Dom believed in him. And he’d given Jesse all
the intimacy he wanted, he’d trusted Jesse with every part of his body.
Dom smiled, dragging his wrists down Jesse’s sides. He wasn’t even surprised at all. “I
should’ve told you what I felt earlier. When you first asked me.”
Jesse frowned, scrutinizing him. “Wait. You knew?”
Dom looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You were so obvious about it, I thought
you were trying to tell me something.”
Jesse scrubbed his face, trying not to blush. All this time he’d thought he was keeping
secrets... He felt like such a fool.
But Dom only kissed him again. And maybe Jesse could deal with it, if it meant he got
more kisses from Dom.
“You’re so damn adorable when you’re flustered,” Dom murmured in his ear.
“Alphas don’t get flustered,” Jesse said. “And I’m not adorable.”
Dom kissed the corner of his lips; Jesse glowered. And Dom’s smile grew. “Anyway, I
should get back to the station,” Dom said, looking regretful. “See you later.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Dom narrowed his eyes. “You just got fifty stitches, Sinclair. You’re staying put.”
“Fifty stitches is nothing.”
But Dom pressed his palm over Jesse’s abdomen, where the baby bump was. “At least
stay a day. Give this some time to heal.”
Then, with a meaningful look at Jesse, Dom tugged up his hospital-issue shirt, exposing
his abdomen. He leaned in, pressing a kiss next to where the stitches were. “Hey, it’s
your other dad,” Dom murmured. His voice vibrated into Jesse’s body. “I just wanted
to tell you that your dad and I are here, but I have to leave for work. We’re both
firefighters. Your dad’s on bed rest for now, though. Maybe give him a kick for me.
He’s being a brat.”
Jesse froze. Dom’s gaze was soft, his lips tugging up in a smile.
“You can do this, you know,” Dom said. “It’s a way of bonding with the baby. You treat
them as a little adult.”
Jesse stared at his abdomen—it was bandaged and stitched up, and he still felt the solid
presence of the uterus inside him. It scared him, a little. Knowing that he was
committing to this other life in his body. “Can it hear you?”
“Probably not yet. But soon.” Dom straightened and cupped Jesse’s nape, kissing the
top of his head. “Text if you need me. I’ll answer when I can. The team might visit after-
hours.”
Jesse cringed. “I’m not an invalid!”
“Give them an excuse to come see you.” Dom smiled. “They’ve been filling up the chat
asking how you are.”
Jesse had been so distracted by Dom that he’d kind of forgotten about their team. And
he was supposed to be on duty right now. “This feels wrong. I should be at the station.”
“You’re supposed to be recovering.” Dom brushed his knuckles against Jesse’s throat.
Then he pressed Jesse’s phone into his hand, and kissed Jesse a last time.
Dom swept out of the room, leaving Jesse with the baby in his abdomen.
Jesse looked down at himself, coming to terms with this. A baby. His and Dom’s. How
was he supposed to give birth to it? Would it rip his body apart? He hadn’t been
modified for childbirth. At least, he didn’t think he had.
Maybe he would have to undergo a C-section, and they’d cut him open for it. He
ignored the anxiety rising through his chest, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. It
was still months away. He didn’t have to think about it.
Slowly, he set his phone down. He shuffled back against the headboard to lean against
it. Then, ever so gingerly, Jesse pressed his hand over his abdomen. There was a life in
there. The uterus moved slightly inside him, harboring the baby.
Feeling a bit silly, Jesse said, “Hi.”
No response from the baby, but that was normal. Jesse would freak if the baby said hi
back.
He wondered if he needed to say hi into a paper funnel pressed against his abdomen, or
if the baby could just hear him like this. Then he wondered if he was eating enough,
and how much food a baby needed every day to survive. How big was it, anyway? His
abdomen hadn’t grown so much over the past few weeks.
The more he thought about it, the more Jesse realized he didn’t know the slightest bit
about being pregnant.
Probably why Dom had given Jesse his phone and a charging cord. Jesse would really
hate for Dom to be the know-it-all about this.
He settled more comfortably into bed, and began his research.
J ESSE WAS DREAMING about a fish salad with gooey fried eggs, when someone nudged
lightly at him. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
He ignored the person, still entranced by his salad. Would it go better with a squirt of
lemon juice, or some mayo? Except the mattress indented next to Jesse, and someone
kissed him on the lips.
“Wow,” someone else said.
“Ooh, look at Dom being sappy. That’s even worse than at the barbecue.”
“You’re in really deep,” a fourth person said.
“So when are you gonna get married?”
“Shut up,” Dom muttered. “Or you’ll be scrubbing the toilets for a week, Alec.”
That voice was enough to draw Jesse out of slumber. He’d missed Dom a lot. Not that
he could remember why. But he cracked his eyes open, welcoming the sight of Dom
sitting next to him, that familiar gaze warming Jesse to his core.
Vaguely, Jesse glimpsed the rest of the room—white walls, sterile scent. He was in a
hospital. But Dom’s presence was enough to calm him down.
“Hey,” Dom rumbled, brushing his thumb over Jesse’s mouth. “Slept well?”
Jesse nodded, wanting another kiss. Except someone moved behind Dom—many
someones. Jesse tensed, before realizing that it was the rest of their team: Gareth, Harris,
Alec, York, Brad, and Nate.
“Good to see you recovering,” Nate said.
Jesse hadn’t had the chance to speak to him, ever since the chaos began. “Thanks, Nate.
For saving my sorry ass again.”
Nate shrugged and smiled. “Happy to help, kid.”
Dom stood so the rest of the team could crowd around Jesse. Alec wanted to see the
gunshot wound on Jesse’s back. York scrutinized the long line that Larson had left on
Jesse’s front. Gareth seemed to study Jesse’s abdomen—then he exchanged a look with
Dom, and Jesse had an inkling that maybe Gareth knew.
But when Gareth stopped by Jesse’s side, all he did was smile and clap Jesse on the
shoulder. “Scared us for a bit there, son. Dom said you’d been captured by some
bastards.”
Jesse thought they might think less of him for it, but none of them did. And maybe... he
could trust them to accept his other news a few months down the road.
Dom chased the team off after a while, frowning enough that Gareth rolled his eyes.
“He needs rest,” Dom muttered.
“Yeah, and rest comes with a stack of donuts,” Gareth said dryly.
“Fuck off.”
Jesse perked up, though. “You brought donuts?”
Dom nodded at the side table, where there was a box from Ben’s Buns. “You can have
them when you get home. We’re working on getting you discharged today.”
The last of the toxins had been neutralized. Jesse had passed the doctor’s observation,
and he couldn’t wait to follow Dom home. “You’re feeding me the donuts, right?”
Dom’s gaze darkened. “Yeah? You want to be fed?”
“I’m gone,” Gareth announced, closing the door behind him.
Jesse raked his eyes down Dom’s body, admiring the muscles behind his T-shirt, the
thick thighs hidden by his pants. He needed to claim his alpha again. Just to be doubly
sure. “You could wear the donuts,” Jesse said.
Dom’s smile grew. “What should I wear them on?”
“I don’t know, something you could put inside their holes.”
“Want something in your hole?” Dom growled.
Jesse’s blood swooped south. “Get me out of here,” he muttered, shoving down the
sudden tent in his clothes. “I’m gonna poke a hole in the sheets.”
Dom smiled and slanted their mouths together, giving Jesse such a scorching kiss that
his insides turned molten, his cock growing so achingly hard, it had to be illegal in the
hospital.
Except Dom reached between his legs, closing his fist in a tight grip around Jesse.
Electricity hissed through his body, pounding where Dom touched him through the
sheets. Jesse wheezed.
For a decadent moment, Dom held him close, pumping him sweet and slow. His touch
was muffled, but it was there, Dom touching him where he was sensitive. Jesse bit down
his groan. It had only been two days, but it felt like an eternity had passed since Dom
last touched him. “Dom, please.”
“Fuck.” Dom pushed his hand into Jesse’s hospital pants, his calluses trailing down
Jesse’s abdomen, to his straining length. Then he closed his fist around it, and bliss
jolted through Jesse’s body.
He spread his legs wider, panting, offering himself to his alpha.
Dom barely suppressed his snarl, his gaze turning coal-dark. He yanked his hand out of
Jesse’s clothes, leaving him bereft.
“Dom—” Jesse squirmed. It didn’t matter how much he had to beg Dom, it didn’t
matter if begging meant he would submit. He wanted the feeling of Dom owning him,
Dom inside him. “Please.”
“Don’t say that,” Dom rasped. “Or you’ll get bent over right here, Sinclair.”
Jesse leaked. He rolled over onto his front, showing Dom his ass. Dom yanked Jesse
back upright, shoving his fingers between Jesse’s cheeks, forcing the thin material of
Jesse’s clothes right against his hole.
“Wait until we’re home,” Dom growled, pushing forcefully, so Jesse almost opened
around him. “Then I’ll fuck you raw.”
He stalked away to find a nurse, a thick bulge in his pants. Jesse palmed himself and
squirmed, wishing time would pass faster.
It was awkward when the doctor came to check on him. Then they had him sign some
forms, and Jesse changed into the clothes Dom had brought for him. When that was
over with, Jesse followed Dom down the corridors and out the exit.
Scarcely had Dom closed the truck door when Jesse lunged, pushing his hand down
Dom’s pants, grabbing his half-hard cock. Dom snarled, growing thick, his musk filling
Jesse’s lungs.
“Fifteen minutes to home, Sinclair,” Dom snapped, but he was rutting into Jesse’s palm,
a silky, heavy slide that made Jesse leak.
“If you’re completely covered with donuts, does that make you not indecent anymore?”
Jesse stroked Dom’s thick length, base to tip, trying not to groan. Maybe they could just
fuck here. That was okay, right?
Dom took two of Jesse’s fingers into his mouth. Then he hollowed his cheeks, the
pressure on his fingers spiking. Jesse imagined that same feeling further down, Dom’s
talented mouth sucking out all his come. He panted and groaned, pulling his cock out
of his clothes.
Dom threw a blanket over him. Before Jesse could protest, Dom started the truck and
began the drive home.
Jesse made himself wait. He focused on his stitches and the raw skin all over his body,
he focused on the gunshot wound and the bruises. But none of that helped—they didn’t
even hurt that much.
So he opened the donut box and began stacking them.
“What’re you doing?” Dom glanced over.
“Trying to figure how many you need.”
“Four?”
“Maybe six.” Jesse swallowed, trying to keep the donut tower upright. Then he licked
the chocolate off his fingers, groaning. The chocolate always tasted so good.
“Damn it, Sinclair.”
“What’d I do?”
Dom gave him a hot look. “You sound like that when you take my cock.”
Jesse’s hole squeezed. “Fucking get us home.”
It took another eternity before they pulled into the driveway. Jesse leaped out of the
truck, bringing the donut box with him. Dom got the front door open. Jesse didn’t even
wait. He dropped the box inside the house, yanked Dom’s belt open, and ripped his
pants down.
“Wait one second,” Dom hissed, but his cock sprung up, thick and flushed, looking like
it needed to cram itself into Jesse. “We aren’t even inside.”
“If you put this in me, you’ll be inside,” Jesse retorted. He stepped into the house,
bending over for his donut box.
Dom grabbed his hips and shoved himself between Jesse’s cheeks, a vicious thrust that
threatened to rip apart Jesse’s clothes.
Jesse dropped the box, all his thoughts shot to pieces. He could only feel Dom’s length
against him, the hot promise against the barrier of his pants, waiting to plunge inside.
He rocked back against Dom, trying not to moan. Except Dom pushed his hand into
Jesse’s pants and grabbed his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. Exposing Jesse’s hole.
Jesse’s mouth went dry.
“Let—Lemme put this on you,” he groaned, fumbling to open the donut box.
Dom growled and locked the door behind them. Jesse grabbed a large, fluffy donut,
dropping to his knees.
“Gods.” Dom swore, pumping himself. “You don’t know how good you look right
now.”
His cock strained, his balls pulled tight. Carefully, Jesse fitted the donut against his
tip—its hole was too small. So he pressed down on the donut, chocolate side facing him,
watching as the donut hole stretched around Dom’s cock and tore, ripping further as it
slid down his entire length.
“Fuck.” Jesse ached. He’d known how big Dom was, but the way Dom ravaged one
single donut... He grabbed another and pressed it lightly against Dom’s tip. Dom
snapped his hips, forcing his head through the donut’s center, ripping it open.
Jesse grew so hot, even his hole was damp. He pushed that donut down to join the first,
and grabbed a third. They weren’t even close to done.
Dom smiled. “How many are you fitting on there? I’m not taking any off when I fuck
you.”
Jesse shoved at his own cock, just so it wouldn’t hurt so much. “I’ll eat every last one.”
He cradled the third donut in his hands, cramming it down onto Dom’s cock, his hole
squeezing when that got ripped open, too. Dom would do that to his hole, stretching
him wide, merciless and demanding. Jesse needed him there.
He lasted long enough to push a fourth donut onto Dom, watching as Dom stretched its
vulnerable opening apart. Chocolate smeared down Dom’s length. Jesse groaned and
leaned in, lapping up chocolate and salty precome.
“Fuck, Sinclair.” Dom pushed his tip into Jesse’s mouth, a thick, demanding length that
forced its way deeper. Jesse dripped. He sucked on Dom, groaning when Dom fucked in,
plowing into his mouth just like how he would further down.
Except Dom pulled out, glistening with wetness. “Put the rest on.”
Jesse stifled his groan. “But I need you inside.”
Dom’s smile curved his lips, hungry and dangerous. “Yeah. And you groan every
fucking time you put a donut on me.”
He cupped the side of Jesse’s head, rubbing his tip over Jesse’s mouth—a lewd sort of
kiss. Then he pushed it in again, so deep that he hit the back of Jesse’s throat. Jesse’s
nose crammed against the closest donut, compressing it against the rest.
He wanted to swear, but he couldn’t around Dom’s cock.
“Fuck,” Dom hissed, pulling out, thrusting back in, his length rubbing wet and intimate
inside Jesse’s mouth. Jesse dug his fingers into Dom’s thighs, sucking on Dom, trying
not to blow his own load.
“Want my come?” Dom growled, pushing deeper, heavy on Jesse’s tongue. “Down
your throat? Or in your ass?”
Then he thrust deep like he was trying to slide into Jesse’s throat and open it. Jesse
wheezed, his cock so hard, it fucking hurt. “Dom,” he gasped.
Dom pulled out, his tip dripping with Jesse’s saliva, the donuts crammed together on
his cock. “Eat them now, and I’ll fuck you raw.”
Jesse grabbed a fifth donut. He needed to see it again. He pushed it down gently onto
Dom’s tip, biting off his groan when Dom stretched it slowly, tearing that innocent
opening apart.
Dom snapped his hips, ripping open that hole. “That’s how I’ll open you, Sinclair.”
Precome squirted out of Jesse. With a groan, he sank his teeth into the closest donut. It
was rich and chocolatey and fluffy, and he swallowed it down, the heat of Dom’s length
radiating into his cheek. Jesse ate the next donut, then the next, groaning at the sinful
decadence that was Dom’s gift to him, wrapped around the most delicious thing of all.
With each donut he ate, Jesse exposed more of Dom—until he reached the last one,
lunging at it, all but inhaling that treat, his mouth smeared with chocolate.
Dom growled, sliding his fingers across Jesse’s cheek. He gathered the chocolate on the
pads of his fingers, before pushing them into Jesse’s mouth. “Suck,” Dom murmured.
“That’ll get them ready for you.”
Jesse’s breath punched out of him. He licked around Dom’s fingers, getting them
thoroughly soaked. Then he began to suck, lightly at first, then harder and harder, until
Dom’s breath hitched, and he pulled his fingers out of Jesse’s mouth, pushing his cock
back in.
“This is what you’ll get,” Dom snarled, shoving deep into Jesse’s mouth. “Every single
inch of it.”
He fucked in hard, and Jesse choked, struggling to get his clothes off. He needed to get
naked, he needed to give Dom all of himself. “Trying, can’t—”
Dom slid out. “Get on the bed. I’ll strip you myself.”
Every part of Jesse’s body tingled. He grabbed the donut box and staggered down the
hallway. Dom caught up with him, grasping Jesse’s ass through his pants. Then he
growled, “You need more donuts?”
“Not leaving them at the door.”
He’d barely set them on the nightstand, when Dom grabbed Jesse’s pants and ripped
them down his thighs, completely exposing his ass. Jesse had a second to gasp. Dom
hauled Jesse against his chest and shoved his damp fingers between Jesse’s cheeks,
cramming his fingertips against Jesse’s hole.
“‘Donut’, Sinclair.” His breath fell hot on Jesse’s ear, his touch a promise on Jesse’s skin.
“Fuck you.”
Dom’s laugh was low, rough. And he pushed so hard against Jesse’s hole that Jesse
yielded around him, stretching open, taking Dom inside. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Dom
growled. He swirled his fingers around, finding that sensitive spot, shoving down on it.
Sparks burst through Jesse’s vision. Pleasure razed through his limbs. He swore and
arched, knocking Dom’s arms away. If Dom really wanted this, then he could come get
Jesse.
Jesse crawled onto the bed, trying to kick off his pants. Dom grabbed his foot and
yanked his leg out from under him. Jesse lost his balance, thumping against the
mattress. His stitches pulled, but he didn’t care. “Fuck off, Dom—”
Dom was upon him in a second, grabbing Jesse’s pants, tearing them clean off his legs.
Over his shoulder, Jesse glimpsed Dom shrugging out of his clothes—so he was entirely
naked, all glorious muscle, his gaze ink-black with hunger.
But if there was one thing Dom loved, it was Jesse spread out for him. Jesse parted his
knees and knelt, leaning forward, showing Dom his ass. His hole was probably
exposed, and he could tell when Dom—
Dom snarled and lunged, bowling Jesse forward. Jesse’s chest hit the mattress. Dom
shoved their hips together, his cock sliding hot against the crease of Jesse’s thigh. Then
he moved it, and it pressed thick and hungry against Jesse’s balls, a threat and promise
rolled into one.
Jesse groaned, grinding back. The pressure wasn’t enough. But he loved when Dom’s
cock whispered against his own, intimate and light, their sensitive parts rubbing
together.
“Gonna open that hole, Sinclair,” Dom rasped, leaning forward, their hips pressed
snug. He reached for the lube on the nightstand, squirting a dollop onto his fingers.
Jesse’s blood thrummed. Then a cool touch brushed over his hole, and Dom pushed his
fingers inside, swirling them around. Prepping Jesse for his entrance.
Jesse’s breath punched out of him. Dom hadn’t used this much lube before. But this
only meant that Dom would go rougher this time, harder than he’d ever done.
He reached back, grasping his cheeks, spreading them wider.
“Stop that,” Dom hissed, but he leaned back, lubing up his cock with one swift stroke.
Then he nudged his blunt, slippery tip against Jesse’s hole, a light pressure against
where Jesse was most vulnerable. “How do you want this?”
“Inside,” Jesse hissed, shoving himself down onto Dom. “Please.”
Dom swore and snapped his hips, and he opened Jesse—just his tip at first. Then he
plowed inside, every single inch, a sweet slide of thick cock that stretched Jesse open so
wide, he wheezed and almost came right there.
“Fuck,” Jesse panted, scrabbling against the sheets, just taking his alpha. There wasn’t
anything else in the world like the feeling of Dom in him, Dom so big that he had to
have straightened out Jesse’s insides.
If Jesse were a donut, Dom would’ve ripped him clean in two. Except he was stretched
tight around Dom, close to breaking, and every tiny movement that Dom made sent
pleasure racing up his veins.
“Mine,” Dom snarled, biting hard into Jesse’s shoulder, breaking skin.
Jesse hissed. “Yours.” He lifted his ass, angling it up at Dom—enough for Dom to snarl
and pull out almost all the way, and slam his entire cock back inside.
Pleasure sluiced into Jesse’s veins; he gasped for breath, his body almost overwhelmed
with need, with pleasure, with the feeling of Dom claiming him. He rocked back onto
his alpha’s length, sinking down on it. Dom groaned, fucking in so hard that he shoved
Jesse forward onto the bed. And he built a sweet rhythm, his wrist dragging down
Jesse’s skin as he thrust in, over and over, his cock opening Jesse so wide that Jesse’s
body knew only him.
Tension grew in Jesse’s body. He growled and wrenched himself away from Dom, so
Dom slid out, leaving his body empty. Even if they were bonding today, even if he
loved Dom—there was no way Jesse would make this easy for him.
He crawled across the bed and turned. Dom lunged, shoving Jesse down onto his back.
Jesse heaved him off; Dom threw himself onto Jesse and hauled his legs open. And now
they were getting serious, Dom’s smile a vicious slash across his face.
Jesse grinned. “I guess you can still fuck, old man.”
“I’ll show you ‘fucking’,” Dom snarled, pinning Jesse down the moment Jesse tried to
escape. Then he shoved Jesse’s legs open, he bent Jesse almost in half so he exposed
Jesse’s hole, and spat onto it, a warm wetness that slid down Jesse’s asscheek, gathering
against his entrance. “Fuck, Sinclair. Such a tight hole.”
“Not gonna,” Jesse said, twisting away.
Dom forced Jesse’s legs apart and bore down, pinning them open with his weight—so
there was no way Jesse could close his legs, there was no way for him to deny Dom.
Jesse pulsed so hard, he was sure Dom could see it.
“‘Donut,’” Dom whispered, meeting his eyes.
“Actually.” Jesse licked his lips. “Yeah. Donut.”
Surprised, Dom released him.
Jesse savored it. It took a lot to surprise this alpha. He crawled across the bed and pulled
open the donut box. Then he grabbed one of the remaining ones, shuffled back, and
pushed it down onto Dom’s cock. “Now we can resume.”
Dom laughed. “You won’t get it all in with that donut on me.”
“Crush it.” Jesse shuffled away from Dom, pretending as though his hole wasn’t in
desperate need of filling. “I don’t care.”
Dom snarled behind him. The next thing Jesse knew, he was tackled from behind, his
entire body slamming into the mattress, Dom’s cock shoving against his ass. Jesse
growled and heaved him off. Dom caught Jesse’s leg and hauled it up, exposing his
hole.
“So fucking sweet for me,” Dom rasped, rubbing Jesse’s entrance.
Jesse twisted out of his grip. Dom had to force him onto his back, pinning Jesse down
with one arm across his chest. Then he shoved Jesse’s leg up and pinned it, and his tip
jammed between Jesse’s cheeks, right against his hole.
“‘Donut’,” Dom said again.
“Fuck off.” Jesse spat on him. Dom smiled, pinning Jesse’s legs open so wide, he was
spread like a feast.
Dom angled his cock and slipped his tip inside, and then he slammed in so hard, Jesse
arched off the bed, panting, his body singing with the pleasure coursing through his
veins.
“Damn you,” Jesse hissed. Even if he didn’t want Dom to stop, ever.
Dom smiled and plowed in harder, his whole cock sinking in all at once. Jesse swore.
And Dom began a savage rhythm, holding Jesse down, open for him, Jesse’s body
entirely his as he ravaged it. Jesse panted with each stroke, pleasure swelling through
him.
He reached up, pressing his palm against Dom’s throat, just cradling him there. Where
he was vulnerable. Dom smiled down at him. And they joined, over and over, Dom
crushing the donut between them until it became a mess of chocolate, hardly a barrier
as he pushed every last inch in. Jesse couldn’t breathe, he was so close to the edge.
“Come for me, Sinclair,” Dom panted, snapping his hips, sliding so deep that Jesse
threw his head back, trying to get enough air into his lungs.
“No,” Jesse hissed.
Dom’s rhythm turned savage, until all Jesse could smell was his alpha, until all Jesse
could feel was Dom. Then Dom leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, and he hit that
one spot inside Jesse, so hard that pleasure rocked through Jesse’s body and wiped out
all his thoughts. An animal sound ripped out of his throat, his spine arching, his toes
curling.
Dom followed him over the edge with a snarl. He buried himself completely and held
still, and Jesse felt Dom swell, trembling as he filled Jesse with spurt after spurt of come.
Dom kissed him, panting and sloppy. Then he dropped kisses all over the rest of Jesse’s
face—his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. It felt as though he was treating Jesse like
someone precious. Jesse flushed, unused to this intimacy.
“You’re being a sap,” he muttered.
“I don’t see you shoving me off.” Dom smiled.
“I don’t dislike it.”
Dom snorted. “Okay, I’ll stop.”
Jesse couldn’t help his visceral reaction—tensing, biting his tongue before he pleaded
for Dom to return. Dom, the bastard that he was, smiled and nuzzled Jesse under his
jaw. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I stop, Sinclair,” Dom murmured, catching Jesse’s
wrist. Then he stroked his thumb over Jesse’s scent gland, and pleasure whispered into
Jesse’s body. “Mind if I...?”
Jesse stopped breathing. “You’re really gonna?”
“I’ve already given you one.” Dom stroked the crook of Jesse’s neck. “But I want you to
carry my mark. All over.”
Jesse’s face flushed so hot, he wished it would stop doing that. “Yeah. Sure.”
He tried to pretend it didn’t affect him so much, except he couldn’t stop looking when
Dom brought his hand up between them. “You’re carrying our child,” Dom whispered.
“And my scent.” He kissed Jesse’s wrist, nuzzling it until he found a particular spot.
Then he grazed it with his teeth, meeting Jesse’s eyes. “Last chance to say no.”
Jesse couldn’t bring himself to say no, or yes, or fuck off, because none of them felt
appropriate. So he said, “Please.”
Dom sucked in a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to his skin. Then he bit down hard,
sinking his teeth into Jesse’s flesh. Pain and pleasure twisted through Jesse’s skin, all the
way through his body. He hissed and tensed, jerking against Dom. His stitches pulled.
But none of that beat the feeling of seeing Dom’s bite on him, tiny droplets of blood
welling up on his skin.
He was Dom’s.
“Your other wrist,” Dom growled.
Jesse lifted it to his lips. Dom repeated that bite, so more pain, and more pleasure,
seared down his veins. And now Jesse carried Dom’s bonding mark on every one of his
scent glands.
It shouldn’t make him smile so much. Jesse averted his gaze, glancing at the crook of
Dom’s neck—where there was already a silvery scar. He thought about Dom’s ex, Mal.
How Mal had left Dom.
Jesse couldn’t judge, because he wasn’t right in the head, either. If it were up to him, he
would never leave someone like Dom.
But maybe... Mal had left, so Dom could find someone else. Jesse could understand that.
Sometimes he looked at himself, and he wondered how Dom saw him at all through all
these scars. Sometimes, he wondered if Dom wouldn’t rather have another omega
instead, someone more his age, someone less broken.
“Would you let me mark you?” Jesse asked, his heart squeezing.
Dom’s lips twitched. “I was waiting for you to ask.”
He tilted his head to the side, offering his scent gland. Jesse’s breath snagged. This was
a big thing. Dom wanted Jesse’s mark. Even with all the scars and Jesse being younger
and Jesse being an alpha. Jesse flushed, leaning in. He’d never marked anyone before.
He sniffed at Dom’s skin, finding the spot that smelled most strongly of blackwood. He
kissed it. And licked it to mark the spot. Then he bit down hard, enough that Dom
hissed and tensed. When Jesse pulled back, tiny droplets of blood beaded Dom’s skin—
Jesse’s marking.
It looked good on Dom.
Dom had other scent glands, too—on his wrists—but Jesse didn’t feel prepared to mark
him there yet. He kissed the bite on Dom’s neck, savoring it. “Mine,” he said, wrapping
his mind around that idea. Dom was his. This capable man who was alpha-as-hell, who
was older and wiser than Jesse, and who accepted Jesse for who he was.
“Yours,” Dom murmured, his knot swelling inside Jesse. Maybe one day, when Dom
was feeling up to it, he’d let Jesse knot him, too. Jesse had the feeling that Dom would
let him. All he had to do was ask.
J ESSE TRIED NOT to stare at the omegas during the next barbecue party. Rather, he
wasn’t staring at the omegas themselves, but their bottles of nail polish.
Someone had arranged for a mini manicure thing the previous time—half the omegas
were with their alphas, or watching the children, and the other half had gathered
around a picnic bench, where bottles of nail polish glittered in the sunlight.
“This one shines a lot,” Perry said, lifting a bottle. “I found it recently, but I’m really
surprised. See the specks of blue glitter? It really stands out against the silver bits.”
Jesse kind of wanted to look, too. But he wasn’t so sure about inviting himself over—
alphas weren’t supposed to use nail polish.
Deep down, he’d become aware of these tendencies plaguing him. The urge to look for
pretty things, the urge to feel pretty. Or even just trying on some nail polish. He knew it
was the influence of his other parts, and he knew it wasn’t really him. But... he couldn’t
stop the curiosity.
Dom stopped next to him, nudging the small of his back. “Sit with them.”
Jesse stared incredulously at him. “Why?”
“Because you want to.”
“You don’t think I’m trying to hit on them, or something?” Jesse asked.
Dom huffed, glancing at Jesse’s abdomen. At twenty weeks, he was really starting to
show. The other guys on the team had been joking about his newly-acquired beer belly,
and Jesse hadn’t thought to correct them.
“If I thought you were interested in an omega,” Dom said with a smile, “I’d be saying
something very different.” He gave Jesse another nudge. Jesse didn’t want to
disappoint his alpha, so he wandered over, awkwardly meeting Perry’s eyes. At least
Perry knew his circumstances.
“Can I... sit here?” Jesse asked, feeling about a hundred times more awkward.
Perry glanced at Jesse’s abdomen, then patted the bench next to him. “Sure thing.”
The other omegas looked up, but didn’t object to his presence. So Jesse watched as they
picked out colors and helped paint each other’s nails.
He decided that he really liked the sparkly polish Perry had first picked out, the one
with bits of blue glitter. He didn’t know how to ask, though. He memorized its brand
and name, just so he could go to a store later, maybe. So he could experiment with it in
secret.
Perry met his eyes. “Would you like to try some, too?”
Jesse glanced at the bottle with the silver glitter, biting his lip. How did he ask while
still sounding like an alpha?
Then he glanced at Dom, his heart missing a beat. Would Dom judge him for this?
Dom shrugged and nodded toward Perry. So Jesse cautiously lifted his hand. “I was
just thinking...”
“This one?” Perry picked up the bottle of silver glitter. “Here, hold out your hand. I’ll
do one nail, and you can tell me if you like it.”
Jesse held his breath. The other omegas had turned to watch, but Perry paid them no
mind, instead brushing bits of silver and blue glitter onto Jesse’s thumbnail. It really
was shiny. Jesse stared, mesmerized. And he felt a little ashamed for liking it this much.
“It looks good, doesn’t it?” Perry grinned. “I think it’s my new favorite. Would you like
that on the rest of your nails?”
“Might be too much,” Jesse said, still looking at his thumbnail.
“I could do just a thin coat,” Perry offered. “It won’t be as shiny, though.”
And maybe Jesse just wanted to know what it’d look like. He’d wipe it off later.
“Please?”
“Sure.”
Deftly, Perry adjusted Jesse’s fingers and painted the rest of his nails. And now all of
Jesse’s nails were shiny, sparkling in the sunlight. The bits of blue looked really good.
“Let them dry before you do anything else,” Perry said. “They’re fine when they’re not
tacky anymore.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Jesse sat with him, kind of wanting to show Dom, except he wasn’t
sure what Dom would think of this. Dom had nudged him over here, but what if he
decided he didn’t like this side of Jesse?
Then Dom stepped over, and Jesse stopped breathing. He curled his fingers in, thinking
maybe he didn’t want to show Dom, after all.
Dom squeezed Jesse’s shoulder, leaning in. “How does it look?”
Jesse froze up. Perry nudged him. “Go on,” Perry said. “They look really good.”
Dom seemed expectant. Reluctantly, Jesse held up his hands. Would this make Dom
regret giving Jesse the bonding marks?
“They do look good.” Dom held Jesse’s fingers, tilting them this way and that, so his
nails caught in the sunlight. “Want to grab a bottle later? So you can do them at home.
Or I could help you paint them, but I doubt I’d be good at it.”
Relief seeped into Jesse’s chest. “You don’t mind? Even as—you know. My deputy.”
“Nah.” Dom kissed his temple. “You’re perfectly capable, sparkly nails or not.”
Joy bubbled in Jesse’s chest. This still took some getting used to, Dom accepting even
the parts of himself that Jesse hated.
Dom met his eyes. “You don’t have to doubt yourself, you know. This isn’t a measure of
you as a person.”
“I guess.” Jesse still wanted to be the perfect alpha, worthy of being Dom’s.
Dom stared at him for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he patted Jesse on the back.
“Looks like it’s time to go.”
Jesse had just gotten to his feet, when something moved faintly in his abdomen. He sat
back down, looking at it.
“Felt something?” Dom asked.
Jesse pressed his hand against his baby bump, but the feeling had disappeared.
“Thought I did.”
Perry and the other omegas were all watching him now. Then Flores said, “Oh,” and
promptly clapped his hand over his mouth.
Dom glanced at him. “Gareth told you something?”
Flores looked sheepish. “Um, maybe?”
But he was looking at Jesse’s abdomen, in a curious sort of way that said he knew.
It wasn’t a secret Jesse could keep for much longer, anyway. So he blurted, “Twenty
weeks.” Expecting omegas seemed to like sharing that information.
Every omega at the picnic bench perked up, looking excitedly at him.
“Are you going to show them?” Dom asked.
The omegas only looked more curious. In a way, Jesse felt comforted by that. No one
had said he was strange at all. “I haven’t told the team yet. So...”
Self-conscious, he pulled his shirt up over his scarred abdomen. The stitches had come
out by now, and the new incision had scarred into a silver line. The stab wound, too.
But his abdomen had grown in the past few weeks, rounder than it was before.
Perry sucked in a sharp breath. Flores winced. Ben had a pensive look on his face, but
Jesse figured he might—Ben had scars, too. He just kept them hidden most times.
“Ouch,” Flores said.
“Why’re you all staring at Jesse’s stomach?” York stopped by the picnic bench. Then he
looked at Jesse, and his eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you’ve been drinking a lot.”
Perry—York’s husband—groaned. Flores went into a coughing fit. Ben hid his smile,
and Jesse looked at Dom, unsure how he should respond.
“We’re going to see a doctor about that,” Dom said, wrapping his arm around Jesse’s
shoulders.
“A doctor?” York frowned. “You mean, like, plastic surgery?”
The omegas fell into a fit of giggles. Jesse wanted to cringe. Then he figured he’d give
York a clue. If York didn’t understand, he’d have to wait until Jesse told everyone else.
“Ultrasound,” Jesse said.
York’s forehead furrowed deeper. Jesse almost felt sorry for him, but Jesse’s dad had
taken a while, too. And that was with Jesse telling him directly. He waved, getting to
his feet.
A kid almost rolled into him. Caleb’s glasses were skewed, and he was giggling, lying
on the floor wrapped in a green fabric tube.
“What’re you doing?” Jesse asked.
“I’m being a snake!” Caleb grinned, rolling away from Jesse. “Ssss!”
He bumped into another kid, Izzy, who was also in a fabric tube—red this time. The
two of them burst out laughing, and began to wriggle their way across the pavilion
floor, their faces smudged with dirt.
Jesse stared. “Won’t you have to give them a bath when you get home?”
Perry shrugged. “Probably. York hoses Caleb down in the tub. It’s not so bad.”
As he watched the pair roll off the pavilion floor and onto the grass, Jesse thought he
kind of understood what Dom saw in children. They were innocent. And funny. They
made him think about stuff in a whole new way.
Then he looked at his baby bump, and wondered what this baby would be like.
Whether it would make him smile, too.
Dom tugged Jesse away from the pavilion, toward the parking lot. “Our baby won’t
mind any of your scars, you know,” Dom said. “Or painted nails, or whatever. You’ll
just be Dad to them.”
Jesse liked the sound of that. Someone who wouldn’t judge him for anything.
They drove to the Meadowfall prenatal clinic, where rainbow-and-unicorn murals

decorated the walls. Lullabies played softly in the background. Jesse settled down with
Dom at the waiting area, just looking around. It felt odd, being in a medical facility and
not wanting to crawl out of his skin.
While they waited, curious looks landed their way. No one asked what Jesse was doing
there. Hell, Jesse had never imagined himself waiting for a prenatal ultrasound.
A while later, they entered the doctor’s office, Dom’s touch light on Jesse’s back—a
reassurance that he wasn’t alone.
Dr. Smith was a friendly beta who smiled when Jesse shook her hand. He’d emailed her
in advance—so she’d have an idea what she was getting into with him. They chatted a
little; Jesse showed her his scarred abdomen. Then she had him lie on the exam bed,
and Jesse fumbled. The exam bed was so soft.
When the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to his abdomen, a mess of black and
white speckles appeared on the screen. Then she tilted the wand, and a tiny, curled-up
figure came into view.
Jesse stopped breathing. He stared at his baby bump, then the screen. “That’s... in me?”
he asked.
“Sure is,” the doctor answered with a smile.
She took screen captures of the baby from different angles, examining it closely. Jesse
tried to imagine that tiny person in his abdomen. “How big is it really?”
The doctor measured out a length—the baby was the size of a banana. Smaller than
Jesse expected, with how big his abdomen already was. “Is that normal?”
“Yes, it is.”
Jesse thought about the flutter he’d felt earlier. Until now, the concept of being pregnant
had seemed kind of abstract to him. But there was a tiny face on the ultrasound image.
That was his and Dom’s baby.
Jesse’s stomach flipped. He sneaked a glance at Dom, only to find Dom entranced by
the ultrasound image, his eyes bright. Jesse’s breath stuck in his throat. Yeah, Dom
really adored that baby, even before it was born.
He’d probably hurt a lot, back when Jesse had told him about terminating the
pregnancy. Guilt crept into Jesse’s chest. He squeezed Dom’s hand, wanting to
apologize. Dom met his eyes and smiled.
Later. Jesse would make it up to him later.
“Is it growing okay?” Jesse asked the doctor. “I mean, I’m not exactly built for this.”
The doctor was quiet for a moment while she studied the ultrasound images. “Your
baby matches the developmental milestones. I’d say we have a good chance of this
pregnancy progressing as it should. But just in case, I’ll schedule an appointment every
two weeks—that way, we’ll be able to observe you more closely.”
That was a relief to hear.
When the ultrasound was over, Dom asked for two printouts of their baby. “You want
one for your parents?” He glanced at Jesse.
Jesse had told his mom some weeks back, when they’d gone to Highton for a visit.
She’d been excited, too. “Yeah, I think my mom would love it.”
Dom smiled and told the doctor they’d like three printouts. He helped wipe off the
ultrasound gel, before covering Jesse’s abdomen with his hands. “I’m waiting,” Dom
said.
Jesse frowned. “It was really faint. I don’t think you’ll feel it.”
But Dom waited, hope in his eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, just
focusing on Jesse’s abdomen. Then a tiny gurgle vibrated from inside. “Might’ve been
my stomach.”
Dom lit up. “I think it’s our baby.”
He heaved Jesse off the exam bed and spun him around in a circle. Jesse smacked him
off, embarrassed. The doctor only smiled.
Later, when they were in a department store, Dom brought Jesse to the cosmetics aisle
and stopped in front of the nail polish.
“Which color do you think would go on me?” Dom asked.
Jesse stared. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Jesse looked at the colorful bottles, and back at Dom. This didn’t make sense. “Why?”
Dom shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because you’re an alpha.”
“So I can’t paint my nails?” Dom raised his eyebrows.
“It isn’t... right.” Jesse squirmed. He couldn’t imagine Dom with glitter on his nails. It
wouldn’t make him any less of an alpha, but... But maybe a dark red would be okay.
Dom picked out a pink glitter polish. That totally did not suit him at all. Then Dom
leaned in and growled in Jesse’s ear, “Imagine this on my nails. Do you think it’ll make
me not fuck you raw? Do you think I’ll lose to you in a fight, just because I have glitter
on my nails?”
“Well... no. But you aren’t the one with omega parts.”
Dom looked thoughtful. Then he nodded at the rows of polish again. “Which is your
favorite?”
Jesse found the bottle of silver-and-blue glitter he’d been eyeing earlier. “It’s the same
one on my nails. But Perry didn’t do a thick coat because I didn’t want it to be so
shiny.”
Dom put that bottle into the cart, along with the bottle of pink glitter polish. “Tell you
what. We’ll go home, we’ll do each other’s nails, and you’ll knot inside me.”
Jesse’s breath stuck in his throat.
Dom smiled. “But you’ll have to fight me for it. I won’t be a sitting duck.”
Painted nails or not, Jesse didn’t feel as though he was less when Dom looked at him
this way—all dark and confident, and expectant. He just felt... powerful. Like it didn’t
matter what he looked like, or what sort of past he had.
Dom linked their fingers together. “You think?” he murmured. “Want to give it a try?”
“Why’re you doing this?” Jesse asked, his throat growing tight.
“I want you to see yourself from my shoes. I want you to know that you’re just as much
of an alpha as I am. That it’s important for you to value yourself.” Dom kissed Jesse’s
temple. “What you look like, what you’ve been through—those add to you as a person.
They don’t take away from your worth.”
Jesse glanced at his round abdomen, and the silver markings on his wrists. He tried to
think of himself as the strong person Dom described. Yeah, he was a firefighter. Yeah,
he’d survived. And maybe those were all good things. Things that gave him value.
Dom trailed his wrist down Jesse’s side, holding him close. “Think about it,” he said.
“Plenty of time.”
Jesse’s heart was too small to contain what he felt for this man. “I’m sorry about
before,” he blurted. “When—When you asked me to keep the baby and I got mad at
you.”
Dom blinked. Then he smiled. “I’m sorry about that, too. It’s your body. Your choice.”
Jesse pressed his forehead against Dom’s shoulder, just hiding his smile. He still
couldn’t believe Dom was here, with him. They’d been very, very lucky. “I’m also sorry
about that other time. When Larson kidnapped me and I almost shot you.”
He’d since sold the gun—he didn’t like the thought of having it around.
Dom slipped his arms around Jesse. “I wouldn’t have blamed you at all.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
Jesse looked up. Dom gave him a warm smile, slanting their lips together. It was a
gentle kiss, just an exchange of breath and intimacy. Dom had seen Jesse at his worst,
and this was all he responded with.
“Marry me,” Dom said.
Jesse’s heart stopped. “What?”
“I’m serious about that, too.”
Jesse just stared, trying to process this. Dom. Wanting to marry him. Hell, Jesse hadn’t
even given Dom his other bonding marks yet. “You’re... talking about the rest of our
lives.”
Uncertainty flickered through Dom’s gaze. “You don’t want to?”
Dom’s husband had left him. For him to offer Jesse a permanent place in his heart, and
make himself this vulnerable again...
“Aren’t you scared?” Jesse blurted.
Dom huffed, his smile crooked. “Hell yeah, I am. But I’ve given you my markings. I’m
not giving them to anyone else.”
Jesse’s heart swelled. With this question, Dom was offering Jesse his life, and his soul.
Jesse wanted to offer him the same.
He brought Dom’s wrist to his lips, kissing the spot that smelled most strongly of
blackwood. Dom sucked in a sharp breath.
“I love you,” Jesse said. “And I’m not leaving.” Then he sank his teeth into Dom’s wrist,
breaking skin.
“Fuck, Sinclair,” Dom hissed, his gaze growing dark.
Jesse kissed his bite mark, where tiny droplets of blood were welling up on Dom’s skin.
His instincts roared, Mine. “Shouldn’t that be ‘Fuck me, Sinclair’?”
Dom smiled, possessive. “Yeah. It should.”
He pinned Jesse against the rack of nail polish and kissed him, and Jesse didn’t care
anymore who witnessed this. He already had the best gift in the world.
S EVEN MONTHS INTO HIS PREGNANCY , Jesse announced it to the team.
York’s coffee sprayed out his mouth. Alec stared. Brad’s eyebrows crawled up. Harris,
Gareth, and Nate were not surprised at all. Dom slipped his arm around Jesse’s waist
and squeezed his ass.
“Pregnant?” York asked, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “I thought... that was a
beer belly.”
Jesse wrapped his arm around his abdomen, feeling awkward. “Well, it’s not.”
“When are you due?” Harris asked. He’d opted to stay with the team, instead of
becoming station chief.
“In about twelve weeks. That’s if it’s a full-term pregnancy.” Dr. Smith had said their
baby was developing at a normal speed, but she wasn’t sure if Jesse’s body could carry
it for the full forty weeks. “I want to stay on the team for as long as I can.”
He’d talked about this with Dom, on and off. Dom strongly preferred to have Jesse stay
home for the final weeks of labor. Jesse wanted to keep working—because he was a
firefighter, damn it!
So Dom had allowed him to stay on the team for now, but Jesse had noticed that Dom
put him on engine duty whenever there was a fire—to minimize Jesse’s involvement
with the fire itself. Jesse didn’t complain—if this allowed him to remain on the team
instead of bustling like an omega at home, then he would gladly deal with it.
His abdomen had begun to twinge, though. His hands and feet had started to swell a
little, and the baby was moving a lot more than before. It almost... felt comforting,
whenever their baby moved. That meant it was doing well in there.
“Congrats?” Alec said.
“Happy for you.” Gareth grinned. “Enjoy your sleep while you can.”
The rest of the guys laughed. York looked between Jesse and Dom—in a way that was
painfully obvious he was trying to picture how Dom had gotten Jesse pregnant. Which
Jesse wasn’t about to share.
The team smiled and shook their hands, and not once did Jesse feel out of place, even
with this secret out amongst them. He really would miss these guys when the baby was
born. But maybe... with the way Dom distracted him sometimes—maybe he might be
too focused on the baby to miss the team. It wasn’t as though he was leaving them
forever, anyway.
The days at the station passed, filled with calls and training. During their time off, Dom
and Jesse got the house ready—they painted a nursery and assembled a cot, and Jesse
read up on preemie care, just in case.
His body held on until the thirty-eighth week. Long before then, Jesse had admitted
that he could only waddle now, and he wasn’t much help on the team anymore. So he
stayed home and read aloud the picture books they’d bought for the baby—way in
advance, but Jesse liked that he’d found his favorite books from when he was a kid.
He was in the middle of making a light sandwich, when a contraction rocked through
his body. He gasped in pain, leaning against the counter. He barely heard Dom
stepping into the house. “Think I’m going into labor,” Jesse said.
Dom hurried over, smelling like blackwood and the smoke from their job. “Yeah? How
are you feeling?”
Jesse breathed out the pain, leaning into Dom’s chest. They couldn’t even hug properly
anymore—his belly was in the way. “Fine.”
Dom snorted. “You’re panting, Sinclair.”
The pain was... not terrible. It still didn’t compare to the time he’d been cut open for the
uterus, but that memory had faded some. “We’ll need the overnight bag.”
“I’ll get on that.” Dom rubbed Jesse’s back, holding him until the contraction passed.
Then he made Jesse sit, double-checked the bag, and grabbed a shower.
Dom spent more time with him, holding him through the contractions. When Jesse
finally said, “We should start heading to the hospital,” Dom went to the minibar.
Jesse stared. Dom grabbed the coffee liqueur and vodka, and stirred that up with some
cream in a travel tumbler. “I’m not drinking that,” Jesse said.
Why else would Dom be mixing a white Russian?
Dom sealed the tumbler and slid it into the overnight bag. “It’s for me.”
It took Jesse a moment to realize that he hadn’t seen Dom mix a whiskey sour in a long
time. Other cocktails, yes. But not Mal’s favorite drink. And here he was, with Jesse’s.
Dom met his eyes. “You want some decaf coffee?”

Jesse swallowed, his heart pattering. “There a reason you’re mixing my favorite drink?”
Dom cracked a smile. “Aside from the fact that I’ll need to calm the fuck down later?”
He wandered over, sliding his arm around Jesse. Then he pressed a kiss to Jesse’s ear
and touched Jesse’s hand—where his ring finger was. “Can’t wait to put a ring on you.”
Jesse’s heart skipped; he shoved Dom off. “Quit being sappy.”
“Lies.” Dom grinned, brushing Jesse’s shiny blue nails with his thumb. They’d painted
those a couple days ago—Jesse’s toenails, too. Then Jesse had brushed a deep brown
onto Dom’s nails, and Dom had worn that to work; Dom didn’t care what people
thought about him.
He didn’t have omega parts to worry about, though. Over the past few months, Jesse
had turned Dom’s words over in his mind, trying to see himself from Dom’s eyes. Dom
loved him. Dom didn’t mind that Jesse was dabbling in nail polish and pretty clothes.
He’d only looked at Jesse and smiled, and kissed him.
Slowly, Jesse had come to terms with this—painting his nails, pulling on lacy
underthings. Those didn’t make him less. They were just a part of him.
And maybe that was perfectly fine.
Dom grinned and walked with Jesse to the truck. He wasn’t supporting Jesse, but he
held Jesse close, just in case. Jesse couldn’t decide if he liked that Dom was this anxious
about the birth.
They arrived at the hospital and checked in. Dom squeezed onto the bed with Jesse; it
was crowded, both of them being alphas.
“I don’t suppose we can make out in here,” Jesse said.
Dom smirked. “Why not?”
The room had no windows opening into the hallway—they could, technically. But Jesse
wasn’t sure he wanted someone walking in on them. Dom shuffled Jesse over to the
other side of the bed, so Jesse was further from the door.
“There. Now they’ll just see the back of my head.” Dom cupped Jesse’s face and tipped
it up, sliding into his mouth.
Their kisses these days had changed. Sometimes they fought for dominance, sometimes
they savored each other’s presence. Sometimes, it was all sweet intimacy, and Jesse
loved that, too.
This kiss started out playful, turning scorching in a heartbeat. Jesse had just grasped a
fistful of Dom’s shirt when someone knocked on the door.
They broke apart right as the midwife bustled in—they’d met her before on a previous
visit, so she wasn’t surprised by them. “Ready for the birth?” she asked.
Jesse’s stomach tightened. He’d discussed this at length with Dom. Without knowing if
Jesse’s body could handle a regular birth, their safest bet would be to do a C-section.
“Yeah.”
Dom took a swig from his tumbler. He wasn’t keen on seeing Jesse cut open, but they
didn’t have much of an option. Jesse didn’t know if he was more afraid, or if Dom was.
A bustle of activity later, Jesse found himself on the operating room table, Dom in
scrubs, gloves, and a face mask next to him. The nurse put an oxygen mask over Jesse’s
face and gave him some local anesthetic for his abdomen—that was good enough.
Then the bright lights came on, and Jesse glimpsed the scalpels. His chest squeezed. He
remembered the operating table from the Facility, he remembered tranq guns and
unbearable pain. Dom squeezed his hand, stroking his face.
“You’ll be fine,” Dom said. But he was holding Jesse’s hand too tightly, his shoulders
tense. Just before this, he’d taken another two swigs from his tumbler.
“I told you,” Jesse muttered. “I’m not gonna die.”
Dom narrowed his eyes.
The doctor cut into Jesse—he felt the faint pressure of the scalpel. He’d asked for it to be
that way so he could be part of the birth. This, at least, was a hundred times better than
being at the Facility. For one, Jesse had chosen it. For another, Dom was with him.
Jesse held on to these thoughts, breathing out the tightness in his chest. Things were
going to be okay.
Then the doctor cut deeper and deeper, and Dom looked like he might burst from the
tension in his body.
“Breathe,” Jesse said. “You know how it’s supposed to go.”
Dom glared. “Not funny, Sinclair.”
“C’mon, breathe with me. Like this.” Jesse sucked in a loud breath.
“If you weren’t pregnant, I might punch you,” Dom muttered.

“Now we breathe out.” Jesse exhaled loudly. “Everyone knows how to breathe. You
just need to remember it.”
“Fuck off,” Dom hissed.
“Hush,” the doctor said.
Jesse glared at Dom. Dom glared back. Then Dom squeezed Jesse’s hand and kissed his
fingers through the face mask, and he closed his eyes. Jesse felt the tremble of Dom’s
hand, he felt Dom’s anxiety, just by looking at him. “I’ll be fine,” he said.
Dom glowered, his grip turning more painful the deeper the doctor cut. It was as
though he were the one giving birth, the way his breathing turned uneven, his face
going pale.
It was when Dom almost crushed Jesse’s hand, that the doctor eased something out—a
tiny human, covered with blood and fluids.
Their baby.
Jesse watched as the doctor suctioned the fluid out of their baby’s mouth and nose.
Dom didn’t let go of his hand. Then a loud wail broke the silence, and Jesse stopped
breathing. His instincts told him to search out that crying, they told him to find his
baby.
The nurse brought him over, laying the little boy on Jesse’s chest. He was small, his eyes
squinted shut, his hands curled into tiny fists. Jesse’s heart missed a beat. This was their
child. The life he’d spent nine months carrying. And Jesse knew he would always
protect this baby, he would always love their son no matter what.
“Owen,” he murmured, stroking their child. “Hey.”
As though he recognized Jesse’s voice, Owen quieted, listening for more.
“He’s lovely,” Dom murmured, kissing Jesse’s forehead. “You did great.”
Jesse’s heart swelled. “Didn’t do nothing.”
Dom huffed, but he cupped Owen’s back, brushing his scent onto their little boy.
“You’ve been protecting him all this time, Sinclair. That isn’t ‘nothing’.”
“Yeah, well.” Jesse shrugged. It had been an incredible nine months, spending them
with Dom. With their baby inside him that whole time. Jesse hesitated, thinking about
the days ahead. “Don’t wanna hurt him.”
“You won’t.” Dom linked their fingers, brushing Jesse’s wrist down Owen’s back, too.
Then he leaned in to kiss Jesse’s cheek, his gaze so bright that Jesse’s throat tightened.
“I’m proud of you. And I know you’ll do good.”
He dropped kisses all over Jesse’s face, then Owen’s tiny hand. Warmth spread through
Jesse’s body, all the way to his toes.
He hadn’t expected to find an alpha who loved him, and he most certainly hadn’t
expected to find acceptance, and love. But Dom had seen him for who he was, Dom
encouraged him and taught him to believe in himself. Without Dom, Jesse was sure he
wouldn’t be where he was today: happy, with a family who loved him, and whom he
loved with all his heart.
As the doctor stitched him up, he pulled Dom closer, carefully cradling their son, too.
“Can’t wait to go home with you,” Jesse whispered, kissing his alpha and their baby.
“Love you both.”
Dom returned the embrace, his smile a promise. “Love you, too.”
“H ERE , LET ME STRAIGHTEN YOUR TIE .” Dom caught Sinclair’s hand, turning him
around. “You look magnificent.”
Sinclair flushed all the way to the back of his head. “‘Magnificent’? Never heard you say
that before.”
“I haven’t? Feels like I should’ve.” Dom smiled, slipping his sturdy fingers under
Sinclair’s tie, adjusting it.
“Daddy! I help, I help!” Two-year-old Owen scrambled between them, reaching up for
his papa’s tie. He looked so eager that Dom laughed, hefting him up.
At two, he had a mix of both their looks—he had Dom’s paler skin and blond hair, and
he had Jesse’s blue eyes and full lips. Sometimes, Dom looked at his son, and he
couldn’t believe that they’d actually created this child, that Owen Sinclair-McCoy was
made of both their flesh and blood.
“There, help all you want.” Dom kissed Owen on the cheek, breathing in his clean soap
scent. Owen dug his tiny fingers into Sinclair’s tie, tugging it to the left, then to the
right, loosening it off-center.
Jesse huffed in amusement. “You’re doing great.”
Owen beamed, ‘fixing’ Sinclair’s tie. “There,” he said, patting it.
“Great job,” Dom told him. “We’re so proud of you.” It wasn’t so much the result, as
the thought that counted. Lately, Owen had been trying to help with everything around
the house—a bit of a challenge when they were in a rush to go anywhere.
Luckily, they’d all woken up early today.
“Make sure you’ve got all the things you need,” Sinclair said, cupping the back of
Owen’s head. “Did you forget your water bottle?”
Owen’s forehead furrowed. “I go look.”
He scurried off, a little ball of determination that made them both smile.
“So, what do you think?” Dom stepped closer, straightening Sinclair’s tie for real. “Any
regrets having him?”
Jesse punched him lightly in the chest, laughter in his eyes. “Fuck, no. You already
knew that.”
“Were you like that when you were a kid?” Dom watched as Owen bustled around the
house.
“Maybe.” Jesse scratched his chin. “Mom says I ‘helped’ a lot, too.”
“I bet you were a cute kid.”
Jesse laughed. “Me, cute?”
“Extremely.” Dom had seen some of his baby photos. He’d borrowed a couple to scan
and print for their own home, framed alongside the pictures of Owen and their family.
They shared a quiet moment together, Dom straightening Sinclair’s tie. Then he
grabbed it and hauled his alpha in, dragging their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss.
Jesse groaned—such an exquisite sound. “Jesse,” Dom growled.
Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been calling me that a lot more lately. Is that...
because you don’t want Owen to think we’re enemies, or something?”
Dom laughed. “Nah. Sometimes it feels more intimate calling you by your name.” He
kissed the corner of his alpha’s lips. “I want to be closer. Mine.”
Sinclair grinned and bit Dom’s lip, licking the marking he’d left last night. “Not sure
how much closer we can be. You really rather call me Jesse?”
Dom kissed him. “Yeah. But you prefer Sinclair.”
Jesse thought about it for a while. “I do. But you already know why.”
“Looks like we might have to keep disagreeing on this.” Dom dragged his wrist down
Sinclair’s jaw, his instincts rumbling in delight when Sinclair smelled even more like
Dom’s. “Or I’ll just have to call you by your full name.”
Jesse grinned. “Maybe.”
“Or... Maybe this might be better.” Dom leaned in, nipping at his earlobe. “Alpha.”
Jesse sucked in a slow breath, his eyes lighting up. “Maybe that, too. Feels like you’re
spoiling me, Dom.”
Dom laughed, squeezing his ass. “Who am I going to spoil, if not you?”
Jesse elbowed him, but he was smiling. “We should get going. Before we hold up
everything.”
“We really should.”
Jesse pounced on Owen in the kitchen, and they hauled him into the new truck—really
an old truck by this point—one with a backseat that could hold Owen and all his things.
Then they did the drive to the lake, where the team held its barbecue parties.
Technically, Dom wasn’t part of Team A anymore. He’d switched shifts to Team C so
Jesse could remain with his station family.
These days, an hour before Dom’s shift ended, Jesse would show up at the station with
Owen. They’d carry out their own handover ritual—a quick kiss and some hugs—and
Dom would bring Owen home, where they’d spend time together until Jesse got home
from work.
They pulled into the parking lot near the pavilion, Dom raising an eyebrow at the
number of people who were already there. The wedding organizer had set up rows and
rows of chairs in front of the pavilion, with an aisle going down the middle.
At the start of the aisle, they found Ben and Alec—the other couple getting married
today. Alec had suggested it; he and Jesse were on the same team, anyway. It made
sense to gather all the firefighters, and do both weddings at the same time.
Besides, Dom had plans to let Ben and Alec steal the show. He’d sweep Jesse away for
their own private celebration after the wedding—Jesse’s parents had offered to watch
Owen for the rest of the day. Dom had already packed some lacy things he would put
on his alpha, just for the sake of ripping it off.
“Congrats,” Gareth said, shaking Dom’s hand. “Took a while, but you’re finally here.”
Dom smiled. “We are.”
It had been six years since Dom had met Jesse for the very first time. Before Dom could
muse on that, Gareth nodded at the fancy table to one side. Jumbo carrots had been
stacked in the middle of the table, flanked by bottles and bottles of honey. All big
enough to fit alpha cocks. Above, a banner read Wedding Favors.
Dom coughed. “You and York sure took your kinks to the next level.”
Gareth shrugged, looking innocent. “Hey, carrots are good for your body.”
Dom had used one on Jesse a few weeks ago, dipped in honey. It had worked out
surprisingly well. Jesse coughed, turning red.
The team gathered around them—Dom and Jesse, and Ben and Alec. Ben had worn a
flowing ivory dress, one that sparkled even more than Jesse’s nails did. Dom caught his
alpha staring.
“You rather wear a dress?” Dom asked.
Jesse looked at the dress a little longer, before shaking his head. “Nah.”
“Why not?”
“I like suits too, you know.” Jesse grinned, heaving Owen up into his arms. “‘Sides,
Owen’s in a suit. I want us all to match.”
“Pretty,” Owen said, pointing at Ben’s dress.
Jesse laughed. “Yup. Sure is.” Then he kissed Owen on the cheek, looking fondly at
him. Dom’s heart melted. It sure had been a journey, Jesse getting to where they were.
Loving their son, being there for him. Dom was proud of his alpha.
It wasn’t just that, though. Jesse had opted to retain his omega parts just in case they
wanted a second child. He’d had a hormone suppressant embedded in his arm to
prevent another heat, too. At least, until he was ready for one.
The wedding organizer ushered the guests to their seats. Dom didn’t have many
relatives; Jesse had a number. Then there was Ben and Alec’s family, too.
An omega darted between the chairs—a waif of a man, thin, barely-legal. Dom didn’t
know who he was, but the man tripped halfway down the aisle. He lost his balance and
flailed in midair, horror shooting through his eyes.
Then he lurched forward onto the grass, face-planting awkwardly with his ass up in the
air. Some of the guests had turned to look.
Jesse cringed. “Wilkie, no.”
“You know him?” Dom asked.
“He’s my cousin.” Jesse frowned. “Although I think he’s Alec’s distant cousin or
something, too. Maybe our families are somehow related.”
Wilkie turned beet-red and picked himself up, brushing the grass stains off his clothes.
Then he scurried down a row of chairs and disappeared behind some other guests.
Seeing another omega now... Dom no longer felt lonely, or as though he was missing
something. It reminded him of Mal, though. How Mal had timed when he wanted to
leave the world. It had always struck Dom as odd, that Mal had saved Dom the
humiliation of breaking in front of all his teammates. How Mal had given Dom the most
time he could to recover, before having to go back on duty again.
Mal had loved Dom, in his own way. Dom didn’t doubt that. But by leaving Dom, he
had given Dom the option to find someone else. Maybe that had been his intent.
Dom looked up at the sky, wondering if Mal was watching. If Mal had finally found
peace. He hoped so. Then he turned his attention back to his family, and the wedding
planner waving him to the front of the aisle.
“See you soon,” Dom said, squeezing Jesse’s hand.
Jesse grinned, his gaze dropping to Dom’s mouth like he wanted a kiss. He’d get a good
one later. Dom crouched and ruffled Owen’s hair. “Stick with Papa, listen to him,
okay?”
Owen nodded eagerly. “Okay, Daddy.”
Dom kissed Owen’s forehead and made his way down the aisle with Alec. Alec
squirmed, looking anxious.
“Been a while since you proposed,” Dom said to him.
“Yeah.”
“Ready to be married?”
Alec nodded, smiling wide. Dom knew that feeling.
As Brad began to play a slow song on his violin, a hush fell over the gathered audience.
Dom stood to the side, watching as Caleb and Izzy made their way down the aisle,
sprinkling flower petals everywhere they stepped. They were wearing snake hats this
time—the snakes looked like they’d swallowed half of the children’s heads, and their
long, stuffed bodies trailed down the children’s backs. Izzy’s little brother followed
behind them, clutching the ring box. When they reached the end of the aisle, Thad
handed the ring box to Alec, who kissed his head.
“You all did great,” Alec said, giving them a thumbs-up.
Then the music changed, and Alec’s stepbrother, Ben, walked down the aisle with their
mom. Alec looked so excited, Dom thought he might burst. His pulse thrummed,
though. It would be his turn soon.
When Ben and his mom stepped closer, Dom realized that it was the first time he was
seeing Ben without shirt sleeves—Ben had tattoos of butterflies fluttering around his
upper arms, same as Alec did.
Then his arm caught in the sunlight, and Dom realized that the silvery patches around
Ben’s arms were scars, many of them. Kind of like how Jesse had scars, except his were
all concentrated in one spot. It explained how Jesse had hit it off with Ben, whenever
Dom and Jesse visited Ben’s Buns.
Dom never thought he’d had much in common with Alec, but maybe they shared more
similarities than he realized.
Ben reached Alec, and the minister had them exchange vows.
“I do,” Alec said.
“I do,” Ben murmured.
Then they exchanged rings and kissed, and they looked into each other’s eyes with so
much love, it almost rotted Dom’s teeth.
But maybe that was the same sort of look he gave Jesse. Maybe that was fine.
Alec led Ben over to where their children were waiting. Then the minister said, “And
now for another very special pair.”
Dom’s lungs just quit. He couldn’t breathe. He stepped up to the front of the aisle,
watching as Jesse murmured to Owen, pointing him at Dom. Dom held his hands out
for their son.
With a grin, Owen raced down the aisle, the ring box clutched safely in his hands. His
tiny feet pattered through the grass, and at one point, he almost tripped. But he steadied
himself, kept going, and when he reached the end of the aisle, Dom crouched and gave
him a big hug.
“You did it,” Dom said into his ear. “That was amazing.”
“Amazing.” Owen grinned, handing Dom the ring box.
Dom guided him over to where Jesse’s parents waited. He slipped the rings out of the
box. Then he looked up, and there was his alpha at the end of the aisle, looking right at
him.
Dom’s heart missed a beat. Jesse didn’t want to be given away—he wasn’t an omega. So
this walk represented something else entirely: that this was Jesse making a choice, that
this was him choosing to step into Dom’s life, and entangle their destinies from this
point forward.
The music faded into the background. Jesse strode forward, scars glimmering on his
head, his face, his hands. But he was no longer so conscious of them. Sometimes he
wore glitter polish on his nails, and sometimes he pulled on flowing skirts. And he
would smile at Dom, unabashed.
The way Jesse Sinclair had bloomed—Dom loved that he’d been there to witness every
part of it. He loved that Jesse had become a pillar of his heart, he loved that he could
growl Sinclair, and this man would become an animal—someone who fought and
snarled, but who trusted Dom completely.
Sinclair reached him, and his gaze burned with a love that kindled an answering blaze
in Dom’s chest.
They linked their fingers, coming to stand in front of the minister.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this with you, Sinclair,” Dom said under his breath.
Jesse grinned, his smile sharp. “Guess you better start believing it, Dom, before I put a
ring on you.”
Dom loved the way Jesse’s fingers tightened against his. “Aren’t you going to swear at
me?”
“You mean ‘Fuck off’, or ‘I hate you’, or ‘Fuck me’, or something else?”
The minister cleared his throat.
“I have plans for some of those,” Dom said.
Jesse’s smile grew. “All three?”
“We will be fucking off after this.”
“To do a lot of fucking?”
Dom laughed. “You may as well shout ‘I hate you’ every step of the way.”
“You won’t haul me over your shoulder like some damsel in distress.”
“No, you’re too heavy for that.”
Sinclair rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
“Do you, Dominic McCoy, take this man to be your alpha?”

“I do,” Dom said.
“And do you, Jesse Sinclair, take this man to be your alpha?”
Jesse met Dom’s gaze, never once looking away. “Yeah, I do.”
Dom was pressing his ring into Jesse’s palm even before the minister pronounced them
husbands. He slid his ring onto Jesse’s finger—a steel band etched with the outline of a
blaze, embedded with a brown garnet the color of Dom’s eyes.
Jesse pushed a similar ring onto Dom’s finger—except instead of a garnet, there was a
sapphire. A reminder of Jesse.
“Fuck, I love you,” Dom growled, hauling his alpha forward, kissing him roughly.
Jesse laughed huskily and bit him again, breaking his lip. “You’ll never be rid of me,
Dom.”
Then he brought Dom’s unmarked wrist up, kissed his scent gland, and bit hard into it,
so pain and pleasure jolted through Dom’s body. The third bonding mark he’d
promised to give Dom. And the look in Jesse’s eyes: determination and desire, and a
promise.
“You’ll have to believe me when I say I’m never leaving you,” Jesse murmured.
With a jolt, Dom realized that he believed his alpha. Every time Jesse returned for more,
every day Jesse spent with him, every instance Jesse made a promise and kept it, he’d
helped to patch the cracks in Dom’s heart.
Maybe you should let yourself heal, Gareth had told him a long time ago.
With Jesse by his side through all these years, maybe Dom had already been healing. He
just hadn’t seen it until now.
He pressed their foreheads together, cradling his husband’s face. “I want an entire
future with you.”
Jesse smiled and leaned into him, and his gaze told Dom everything he needed to
know. “I’m all yours.”
J ESSE WAS ALMOST to the cashier at Ben’s Buns when his phone buzzed. The text came
from his sister, Kelly: Don’t forget to bring extra donuts!
He laughed, turning away. He had forgotten.
“Where are you going, Papa?” three-year-old Owen asked, trotting after him.
“We’re getting some strawberry donuts for Aunt Kelly,” Jesse answered.
Dom ruffled Owen’s hair. “She really likes the strawberry ones, huh?”
Jesse made a face. Strawberry wasn’t his thing—he couldn’t fathom why Kelly kept
asking for these. But donuts were donuts. He was happy to give everyone donuts, even if
they were strawberry ones.
“Maybe we should’ve given some away at the wedding,” Jesse said, stacking three
strawberry donuts on the other side of his tray, keeping them as far away from his
chocolate donuts as he could.
“Not you, too.” Dom laughed. “The carrots and honey weren’t enough?”
Jesse shook his head. “I mean, you could lube up the carrots with honey, but they’d
need something to go into.”
“Like your mouth?” Owen asked.
Jesse was thankful that he wasn’t drinking anything right then. “Yes, my mouth.”
Dom coughed, looking away. He had slid a carrot into Jesse’s mouth, some time back.
Owen seemed thoughtful. “What’s ‘lubup’?”
As adorable as Owen was, Jesse couldn’t help freezing. Shouldn’t have brought that up at
all. “It’s, uh. When we pour a liquid on something to help it go into other things.”
Dom gave Jesse a look. Owen hummed and wandered off, peering into the other display
cases. Jesse breathed out a sigh of relief.
“C’mon,” Dom growled. “Time to head to Highton.”
“You just want a chance to use more lube,” Jesse muttered.

“You’re not wrong.” Dom slipped his arm around Jesse’s waist, keeping an eye out for
Owen, who scampered around the display island in the middle of the bakery. “I’m
looking forward to tonight.”
Jesse shivered. Yeah, they did have plans for tonight. Plans that involved the two of
them locked up in their bedroom, with no clothes on.
They paid for the donuts and made the hour-long drive to Highton, singing along to
Owen’s favorite tunes on the radio. Kelly was already at the front door when they
pulled up at Jesse’s parents’ house. “Where are my donuts?”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Here. I’m not happy to see you, either.”
Kelly laughed and hugged Owen. “That’s okay. I have a new favorite person. How’re
you doing, little guy? Good?”
Owen nodded, grinning so toothily that Jesse’s heart melted. Kelly hugged Jesse and
Dom, before ushering Owen in to meet his grandparents.
“They’re sure excited about him.” Jesse swelled with pride.
Dom gazed fondly at their son, waving when Owen looked at them over his shoulder.
“You did good.”
“You say that like I did all of it.” Jesse leaned into Dom’s side, kissing his alpha. It had
been an incredible three years, raising Owen with Dom. Caring for Owen when Dom
was at work, waiting by the living room window for Dom’s truck to pull up to the
house. Owen always got so excited when he recognized the truck, and then his daddy
striding up the driveway. But he also got excited whenever Jesse returned from his shift,
too. Going home was one of the highlights of Jesse’s days.
Mom and Dad came out to greet them; Jesse spied Kelly introducing Owen to all the
new food in the kitchen. Seconds later, his phone buzzed. This time, Kelly had sent
pictures of Owen with his tiny fingers wrapped around an apple.
Then she followed those up with a selfie—a funny scowl that made Jesse laugh. He
made a face, took a photo, and sent it back.
Dom snorted. “You’re in the same house.”
“Yeah, well.” A new scowl showed up on his phone. Jesse made another face and took a
second selfie, trying to one-up Kelly’s terrible faces. Kelly sent another back. Of course,
Jesse couldn’t let that scowl go unchallenged.
“Owen, let’s make a funny face,” Kelly said in the kitchen.

The next photo she sent had both her and Owen with their faces all scrunched up. Jesse
growled and grabbed Dom. “Now you’ll have to make a face with me. We can’t let her
win.”
Dom shook his head, but he acquiesced. They went through a few more rounds of their
funny faces duel, each set of faces worse than the last, before Kelly went back to doing
the scowling selfies by herself.
At first, when Jesse and Kelly had started this game a few years ago, Dom had been a
little bewildered. Then he’d gotten used to seeing Jesse exchange scowls with his sister.
These days, he didn’t mind joining in.
Thing was, Jesse really loved having his sister around to joke with. Some days, he found
himself scrolling through their chat, looking at those funny faces again. Those pictures
always made him smile.
When Owen raced out of the kitchen, Jesse caught him. “Hey.”
“Look, Papa!” Owen waved a plastic spatula. “Aunty Kelly gave it to me!”
“What are you going to do with it?” Dom asked.
“I’m going to fry eggs!” Owen wriggled, his blue eyes sparkling. He looked so
enthusiastic that Jesse would do anything to keep him happy.
“We’ll get you a kitchen playset,” Jesse said. “Those are pretty fun. You get to fry eggs
and everything.”
“Yeah, you’ll get to cook like Papa and Daddy.” Dom tickled Owen’s cheek. “What’s
your favorite food?”
“Pizza!” Owen threw his arms up. “I wanna make pizza too!”
Jesse laughed. “Sure you can. Hey, Owen.” He waited until Owen met his gaze. “Tell
me, would you like to have a brother or sister to play with?”
Dom sucked in a slow breath, his arm tightening around Jesse. They’d discussed this,
on and off. Dom had said he was perfectly fine with just having Owen. But every time
Jesse spoke with his sister, he thought... maybe Owen would like to have a sibling to
grow up with. So he could have a friend to share in his joys and sorrows. Maybe
someone who would exchange scowling selfies with him when he grew up.
“Okay.” Owen looked curious. “Now?”
Dom coughed. “It’ll take some time, kiddo. Making a baby is hard work.”
Jesse’s neck heated up. “Seriously?” he muttered.
“How long?” Owen wriggled. “Tomorrow?”
“Daddy means nine months.” Jesse scooped Owen up, kissing his cheek. “Can you
count to nine?”
Owen began counting on his fingers. Dom smiled and kissed Jesse, stroking down
Jesse’s arm to the line of embedded hormone suppressants.
“... Seven, eight, nine, ten!” Owen beamed, looking proud of himself.
“Well done!” Jesse dropped kisses all over Owen’s face, marveling at his progress. It
wasn’t so long ago that Owen had begun learning to count. Owen squirmed; Jesse
released him, watching as he scampered off to look for the next shiny thing.
Pride gleamed in Dom’s gaze—he loved Owen just as much as Jesse did. “You’re sure,”
he growled.
“Yeah. I’ve thought about it.” Jesse met his eyes. “I’ve made up my mind.”
With a low rumble, Dom caught Jesse’s face and gave him a slow, soft kiss, one that
made Jesse’s heart miss a beat. “You know it won’t be easy.”
Jesse remembered the uncertainty, he remembered the odd feeling of the uterus in his
abdomen. But enough time had passed that he wasn’t as tormented anymore. These
days, Dom and Owen made his dark memories a lot more bearable. “I know.”
Dom sank his teeth into Jesse’s lip. “Don’t take the suppressants out. Or I’ll go into a rut
here.”
Jesse imagined that. And it was so tempting that he blurted, “Yeah? How about I take it
out right now?”
Dom tensed, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you dare.”
A thrill slid down Jesse’s spine. They hadn’t fought really hard in a while. He shoved
his chest against Dom’s, whispering against his lips, “You aren’t my deputy anymore.”
“I won’t fuck you here,” Dom hissed.
“Really?” Jesse smiled. And now he wanted to break Dom’s resolve, so much. “I have a
room here.”
“The walls are paper-thin.” Dom grasped Jesse’s arm. But musk wafted off his skin.
“We’ll have to find a room elsewhere.”
“What, you can’t stay quiet?” Jesse bit Dom’s lip, hard enough that he tasted blood.
Dom’s eyes flashed.
“You can’t stay quiet when you take my cock.”
Jesse’s hole squeezed. “Make me.”
Dom’s pupils dilated. And Jesse hadn’t even removed the suppressants yet.
His heart thumping, Jesse yanked himself away, heading for the hallway bathroom.
Dom crowded in with him and locked the door. “We’re here to visit your parents,
Sinclair.”
“Owen can visit with them today.” Jesse grinned. “They aren’t knocking on the door.”
“That’s because they’re making lunch.”
“We’ll have lunch with them. It took me a while to go into heat.”
Jesse found the first aid kit and rubbing alcohol. He sterilized a new razor blade and a
needle, before making an incision in his skin, right over where the suppressant implant
was. The whole time, Dom pressed him up against the counter, a hungry, solid weight
at his back. Dom’s teeth grazed his scent gland; tingles raced down Jesse’s nerves. Jesse
had to force himself to focus on the task at hand.
He wrapped the implant with a clean tissue. While he tucked it away, Dom threaded
the needle and began to stitch up the incision. It was so much easier than the time he’d
done this to himself.
“Excited?” Dom growled.
“You can’t possibly tell.”
“You’re smiling.”
Jesse pursed his lips. “That’s because you’re stitching me up. It took me a damn long
time to do that to myself.”
“I’ll stitch you up however many times I have to.” Dom kissed Jesse’s neck, his smile
mellowing. “Anything to make you whole again.”
Heat crept through Jesse’s face. “Stop it. That’s way too sappy.” But his nails glittered
under the bathroom light, and Dom tied off the thread, snipping away the loose ends. “I
wanted to fight, Dom. This isn’t fighting.”
Dom’s gaze darkened as he set down the needle and scissors. “Yeah? What about this?”
He bit into Jesse’s scent gland, all sharp teeth. Pain and pleasure jolted down Jesse’s
spine. Jesse hissed, whirling around to punch him. Dom caught his fists and shoved
him against the counter, grinding their bulges together.
“Now we’re talking,” Jesse growled, his pulse picking up, his blood swooping between
his legs.
Dom gave a sharp smile. “Stay down. Let me put away the first aid kit.”
Jesse almost said no. But it wasn’t their house, and maybe he could find a way to turn
things around. While Dom was distracted. “Okay,” he said.
Dom raised a suspicious eyebrow. Jesse eased out from between Dom and the counter,
unlocking the door. Elsewhere in the house, he heard Owen talking to his grandparents
and Kelly. So Jesse made his way to his old bedroom. He stepped inside and tucked
himself into the small space behind the open door. Then he decided that Dom would be
able to see his shadow from the doorjamb.
The bed was far too small—he’d almost grown out of it, even when he was fourteen.
The mattress was thin, and it smelled slightly dusty.
He squeezed into his closet instead, shoving the tiny clothes aside, ducking his head so
he wouldn’t hit the clothes rail. Jesse pulled the closet door shut, held his breath, and
waited in the darkness.
He waited. And he waited. After what felt like several minutes, when Jesse had half a
mind to leave his hiding spot and hunt for Dom, the door to his room clicked shut.
“Jesse?” Dom asked.
Jesse breathed out his relief. Dom was okay.
Slowly, Dom’s footsteps padded through the room. Jesse imagined him glancing
around, sniffing at Jesse’s scent. He imagined Dom crouching to look under the bed.
Dom’s footsteps paused just outside the closet door, and it creaked open, a growing
rectangle of light.
Jesse lunged out, crashing into Dom, barreling him backward. “Where the hell were
you?” he muttered, grabbing Dom’s head so he could yank Dom closer and bite his lip.
Dom bit back, his teeth sinking into Jesse’s skin. “Telling your parents they won’t be
hearing from us for a while.”
Jesse froze. “You told them?”

“That I’ll try to get you out of the house, but I couldn’t make promises.” Dom’s breath
skimmed across Jesse’s cheek. “I told them we were working on a baby project.”
“They know—?”
“Your sister was especially horrified.”
Jesse groaned, his entire head burning. “Maybe we should get a room elsewhere.”
Dom’s smile turned savage. “Too late, Sinclair.”
He hauled Jesse sideways, toward the too-small bed. Jesse lost his balance; he threw his
arms out and caught himself against the wall, leaning forward, bent over—a position
that made him vulnerable.
Dom grabbed Jesse’s waistband and ripped his pants down, along with his underwear,
leaving his ass bare, his cock growing thick. Jesse turned with a snarl; Dom caught Jesse
by the waist and barreled him down against the bed. Jesse’s back hit the mattress; the
bed creaked. He reared up to strike Dom.
Dom knocked him back down, pinning Jesse with an arm across his chest. Then he
leaned in and shoved his tongue into Jesse’s mouth, a damp, demanding invasion that
made Jesse’s insides grow hot.
“‘Donut’,” Dom growled against his lips.
“Fuck you,” Jesse spat.
Dom’s smile grew; he grabbed Jesse’s cock and licked inside his mouth, laying claim
there. Jesse shoved at him; their tongues slid together in an electric dance. And Dom’s
calluses raked down the sensitive skin of Jesse’s cock, down behind his balls. Pleasure
shot up Jesse’s spine.
Dom didn’t even try to strip him this time—he shoved his fingers between Jesse’s
cheeks and found his hole, grinding hard against it. Enough that he could easily enter.
Just that he chose not to.
“All for me,” Dom whispered, spreading Jesse’s cheeks with his fingers. “Such a tight
hole, Sinclair. Mine.”
Jesse groaned. “If you want it, then you’d better prove it’s yours.”
Dom’s gaze grew dark; his nostrils flared. “You’re starting to smell different.”
“I’m not.”
Dom pulled his touch away from Jesse’s ass. Jesse tried to fight his disappointment. But
that didn’t last long—Dom straddled him and yanked his own shirt off, his pecs broad,
his abs rippling.
Then he balled up that shirt and shoved it into Jesse’s mouth. “You’ll have to hit me if it
gets too much for you.”
“Fuck off,” Jesse snapped. But his words muffled around the shirt, and the dry fabric
soaked up his saliva.
Dom only gave a sharp smile. “Such a beautiful sound.”
And he leaned in so they were chest-to-chest, snapping his hips. The coarse material of
his jeans scraped against Jesse’s cock. Discomfort rode alongside the pleasure; Dom
began a slow, forceful rhythm, bearing down on Jesse, one hard thrust after another—
rubbing Jesse raw the longer they slid together. Trying to force Jesse’s come out of him.
Jesse swore, bucking at his alpha.
“Does it hurt?” Dom whispered, reaching between them, stroking Jesse’s cock with his
hot fingers. But that only sent more pleasure down Jesse’s nerves. Jesse snapped his
hips up, trying to chase his alpha’s touch.
Dom smiled. And withdrew his hand. He unbuckled his belt and ripped his fly open,
his cock straining behind his boxers. Jesse swallowed dryly, heaving at Dom, trying to
bowl him over. But Dom just pulled his cock out, every glorious inch. He shuffled up
and shoved his length against Jesse’s face. Precome smeared across Jesse’s cheek; the
warmth in his veins burned hotter. More so when Dom pulled the shirt out of Jesse’s
mouth, his heavy cock forcing Jesse’s lips apart.
Jesse hissed, closing his mouth around Dom. Dom always tasted good—salty and clean
and musky.
“Suck it,” Dom growled. And he shoved in deep, until he hit the back of Jesse’s throat.
Jesse grew so hard, his cock hurt. Dom began a slow rhythm, one that heated Jesse’s
blood so it burned hotter and hotter in his veins, Jesse’s entire body growing feverish
with every thrust.
Except Dom wheezed, suddenly. His breath punched out of his lungs and he lurched
forward, panting, growing thicker in Jesse’s mouth.
Dom had gone into a rut.

Jesse licked Dom’s rock-hard length, he smelled the heavy musk rolling off his alpha’s
skin. And his body answered with an aching hunger, his balls growing tight, his hole
squeezing, needing to be stretched open.
Dom straightened, pulling out of Jesse’s mouth. His gaze scorched. Jesse reached up
and yanked down the back of Dom’s pants, cramming his fingers between Dom’s
cheeks, aiming straight for his hole. Dom swore and swung himself off the bed, away
from Jesse’s touch.
But this gave Jesse an opening. He leaped after Dom, slamming him up against the wall.
And he grabbed Dom’s cock, pumping it roughly—gods, it was thick, straining, so
eager to plunge into Jesse’s hole.
“I’m not submitting,” Jesse hissed.
Dom only smiled. “I love when you say that.”
He squeezed Jesse’s ass, shoving his fingers between Jesse’s cheeks. Before Jesse could
turn away, Dom crammed two fingers against Jesse’s hole, pressing down so hard that
they forced Jesse open, and sank inside.
Jesse tensed at the entrance, his body tightening. “Fuck.”
He knocked Dom’s arm away, so Dom’s fingers slid out. Then he turned, and Dom
crashed into him from behind, forcing Jesse forward.
“You’ll submit,” Dom hissed. He shoved Jesse down onto the mattress—Jesse sucked in
a lungful of old mattress scent. While he was distracted, Dom pushed his hand back
between Jesse’s cheeks, making straight for Jesse’s hole.
There wasn’t even a warning this time. Just a heavy caress, Dom groaning as he
admired Jesse’s opening. Then he plunged two fingers all the way inside, straight to
their knuckles.
Jesse wheezed, his cock pulsing. He had to pump it to make it stop hurting. Except Dom
grabbed Jesse’s arm and yanked it behind his back, pinning it down. Then he pounded
his fingers roughly into Jesse’s ass, in and out, prepping Jesse for his cock.
It felt so good, having Dom finger him.
“You’re already wet,” Dom growled, grinding his fingers against Jesse’s prostate. Jesse
jerked, his vision blacking out with the pleasure. “You’ll take every inch, Sinclair.”
Jesse imagined Dom inside him, and wheezed. “Your bark’s worse than your bite,
Dom,” he panted. “If you can’t fuck me hard enough, maybe you should—”
“Damn you.” Dom ground hard against that sensitive spot. Pleasure lanced through
Jesse, arching his spine. Jesse gasped, his legs spreading, held shut by his pants. Dom
caught Jesse’s pants with his foot, shoving it the rest of the way down. Jesse was only
too happy to oblige—anything to free up his legs so he could hold his own against
Dom.
He kicked his clothes off one foot and struggled beneath his alpha; Dom pummeled him
back down against the bed, his breath rasping, his cock pressing a hot indent against
Jesse’s thigh. He wasn’t working hard enough to have Jesse.
So Jesse thrashed, trying to throw Dom off, so violently that Dom swore and bore down
hard, using his entire weight to pin Jesse against the mattress. Then he kicked his own
pants off and shoved Jesse’s shirt up, and their bodies slid together, skin on bare skin.
“Fuck,” Dom hissed, grasping Jesse’s knee. He shoved Jesse’s legs open, exposing
Jesse’s hole. And he touched his fingers to it, a low, appreciative groan slipping from
his throat.
“That’s your favorite part of me?” Jesse muttered.
“One of my favorites.” Dom pushed his fingers back in, three this time, forcing Jesse to
stretch wider. Jesse arched, dripping onto the bed. Dom swore.
They hadn’t fucked since last week—work had been hectic, and they’d been tired. Now
that Dom was touching him there, Jesse craved his alpha more than ever.
“Don’t fucking touch me if you can’t follow up,” Jesse hissed. “Getting old, Dom.”
“Yeah?” Over Jesse’s shoulder, he saw Dom’s eyes flash. “This isn’t good enough?”
And he withdrew his fingers, shoving the whole length of his cock between Jesse’s
cheeks, a hot, heavy presence that stole all of Jesse’s attention. It pushed deeper, forcing
Jesse’s cheeks apart with its sheer thickness alone.
Dom thrust so hard that the friction broke Jesse’s resolve. Jesse spread his legs wide,
pushing his ass up—offering himself.
“Holy fuck, Jesse,” Dom rasped. And he leaned away, grasping a cube of something
yellow. Dom had smeared it all the way down his cock, before its scent reached Jesse—
butter.
Dom didn’t pause to let that sink in. He grasped his cock and angled it. Jesse
scrambled—a last ditch effort to make Dom work a bit harder. He heaved Dom bodily
off and crawled further up the bed. Dom snarled and pounced, shoving Jesse face-down
against the mattress, their hips crashing together, butter smearing between them.
His blunt tip dragged against Jesse’s entrance. No warning. Then it pushed, forcing
Jesse open.
Dom slammed in, a decadent length that stretched Jesse, plunging so deep that Jesse
choked on his groan.
“Shh,” Dom hissed. He clapped his palm over Jesse’s mouth and thrust the rest of his
cock in. Pleasure throbbed through Jesse’s body; he arched and panted and swore, and
Dom rammed himself in harder, until their hips met and Dom could sink no further.
Then he anchored Jesse against himself, forcing Jesse to adjust to his thickness and
length. Jesse wheezed, aching. It felt so good every fucking time, Dom claiming him
inside, owning him the way no one else would.
Jesse bit Dom’s hand. Dom swore and pinned him against the bed, snapping his hips so
he impaled Jesse—deeper, harder. And he began a harsh rhythm, riding Jesse hard and
rough, the way Jesse loved. Jesse groaned; Dom grabbed the forgotten shirt and
crammed it back against Jesse’s mouth—and he slammed in so hard that Jesse arched,
scrabbling against the bed, trying to fucking breathe.
But Dom didn’t go easy. He held Jesse tight and began really thrusting, his cock
pistoning so sweetly inside Jesse that Jesse’s balls pulled tight, his body growing
molten-hot.
“You just got wetter for me,” Dom rasped, his chest flush against Jesse’s back. “You’ll
take my cock, you’ll take my knot. And I’m gonna fill you up with so much come, you’ll
fucking get pregnant with my baby.”
Jesse’s entire body sang. He rocked himself onto Dom, trying to take him deeper, trying
to make Dom fuck harder, all his good sense flying out the window. Dom massaged
him so well inside that Jesse became drunk on that pleasure, he felt as though there was
nothing else in the world, but him and Dom on this creaky bed, every thrust sending a
shudder through the frame beneath them.
“Can’t you fuck harder than that?” Jesse hissed.
Dom snarled and slammed so hard into him that pleasure ripped through Jesse’s body.
His spine bowed and his toes curled, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Jesse
wheezed, just trying to contain that pleasure, his entire body trembling as Dom held on
tighter to him.
Dom followed him over the edge with a ferocious growl, his teeth sinking into Jesse’s
shoulder, his cock jerking inside, emptying pulse after pulse of his seed into Jesse’s
body.
They panted together, Dom lying on top of Jesse, his hand trailing down Jesse’s
forearm, tangling with his fingers. The bed creaked beneath them.
“We should inspect the bed before we use it again,” Dom murmured.
Jesse stared at the worn sheets of his childhood bed, too exhausted to feel anything but
the sweat between himself and Dom, and the sticky mess he’d left on the sheets. He
grimaced. “Made a mess. Gotta bring the sheets home to wash.”
No way in hell he was leaving that behind.
Dom laughed quietly against his shoulder. “Sure.”
Elsewhere in the house, no one spoke. Dom pressed a kiss to Jesse’s nape. Then, as
Dom’s knot swelled inside him, Jesse heard Owen’s voice. Muffled, “Can I go find
Daddy and Papa yet?”
Jesse froze, alarm ringing through him. He... was rarely quiet when they did this. And
he hadn’t been thinking so clearly when his heat had descended. “Crap. Did they
hear...?”
His family knew about the uterus and everything, but if they’d heard Dom fucking
him... Jesse pulled the pillow over his head, so embarrassed he couldn’t think.
Dom slipped his arms around Jesse, kissing him. “I asked if they could step outside for
half an hour. It’s fine. They might’ve gone to the park and just gotten back.”
“I sure hope so.” Hopefully they’d done that instead of lingering outside the house, or
something.
Dom kissed him. “You’ll be fine. You’re perfect.”
“To you, I am.”
“You are.” There was a smile in Dom’s voice. Dom trailed his wrists down Jesse’s sides,
marking him with blackwood. Reminding him that, at the end of the day, he would be
there with Jesse no matter what.
And maybe that was enough. Dom and Owen were content with him. Maybe... things
wouldn’t be as bad as Jesse thought.
Jesse relaxed, focusing on his alpha instead. He nudged at the ring on his finger,
squeezing around Dom’s growing knot. Dom grunted. Jesse wriggled against him.
“You said that wasn’t your favorite part of me. What other parts do you like?”
Dom kissed him again. “If we’re talking body parts, your eyes. So bright blue. Your
hands. Strong as hell.” Dom tightened their fingers together. “Your damn mouth. I
want to shut you up, Sinclair, when you use that mouth of yours.”
Jesse grinned, his pulse fluttering. “My favorite part of you is your heart.”
“Yeah? Not my cock?”
“Well, that too.”
Dom laughed and bit him lightly, dragging his wrist along Jesse’s jaw. “Mine, alpha.”
Jesse lit up. “Yours.”
They lay together for a while, both of them marking each other with their scents. Like it
had the previous time, the heat that burned in Jesse’s veins was now already fading.
And Jesse knew that this was the start of his second pregnancy. He was better prepared
now, though. Ready to welcome the life that would bloom in his abdomen. After they
had their second child, maybe he’d get rid of the uterus. And he would finally leave
that part of his past behind, and move on.
“What’re you thinking about?” Dom asked.
“Baby,” Jesse said.
Dom rumbled, sliding his hand down Jesse’s front, cupping his abdomen. Where the
scar was. “Deciding on a name?”
Jesse huffed. “Already?”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to know for sure that I’m pregnant first,” Jesse said.
“Fine.” Dom smiled, nipping at Jesse’s ear.
When his knot receded and he withdrew, Dom helped Jesse to his feet. They both got
dressed. And Jesse paused at the bedroom door.
“I’ll talk to them first,” Dom volunteered.
Jesse scowled. “No. I’m doing it. Not gonna be scared, Dom.”
Dom’s lips curved. He pulled Jesse close and kissed him full on the lips. “I can’t ever
have enough of you,” he murmured.
That made Jesse tingle all over.
When they stepped out, Owen came racing over. “Daddy! Papa!” Dom scooped him up,
giving him a bear hug.
Jesse spied his sister scowling—that was fine, though. She didn’t seem too mad. “There
better be a good reason for this,” Kelly muttered.
“You’ll get a new baby to fawn over,” Dom said dryly.
Kelly continued to scowl, but she seemed a little more placated. Behind, Jesse’s mom
and dad waved, looking amused. Jesse squirmed. But it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected,
really. He was still welcome here.
“C’mon, let’s go wash up, and help with lunch,” Dom said, squeezing Jesse’s waist.
“Spend some time with family.”
He always knew what to say. Jesse eased into a smile, making faces when Owen looked
over Dom’s shoulder. Owen giggled.
As they washed their hands and Dom kissed Jesse again, Jesse couldn’t help being glad
for how his life had turned out. He had a family who loved him, and whom he loved.
Sometime in the future, he and Dom would have another little one joining them. And
through it all, Dom would be by his side, ever encouraging, ever a pillar of support.
Jesse loved his family. And he couldn’t wait for the next chapter of their lives.
R EADY FOR MORE M EADOWFALL ? There are a few spin-off series ready for you to dive
into:
- Meadow Street Brothers
- Meadowfall Professors
- Daddies for Dumpster Omegas
- Santas of Alpha Ridge

Definitely check out the Meadow Street Brothers series, starting with Weight of
Everything - it features a chubby alpha who falls in love with another alpha - Gage
shows Ulric that he’s absolutely worthy of love :)
Daddies For Dumpster Omegas
Light daddy/boy for some dumpster rats
MPreg
Santas of Alpha Ridge
Alphas in a secret santa village find their omegas - more novellas every Nov, hopefully!
Meadowfall Professors
Nerdy omegas find their happily ever afters with protective alphas who complete them. MPreg!
Meadow Street Brothers
Close-knit “brothers” find the bondmates of their dreams. MPreg!
Meadowfall Firefighters
Inappropriate humor! Hunky alphas and the broken men they heal. MPreg!
Men of Meadowfall
Accidental pregnancies + hurt/comfort! - broken omegas who find their happily-ever-afters with some really
protective alphas. MPreg!
Shifters of Cartwell
Dragon and wolf shifters! MPreg!
Taboo books (Not available on Amazon)
Monster Bait (monster noncon)
Monster-Forced (monster noncon)
Knotted by the Wolf (shifted sex)

Forced by the Wolf (alternate ending to Knotted by the Wolf, non-con with shifted sex and forced breeding)
Resistance is Fertile (non-con, breeding kink)
Tentacled by the Toilet (non-con, tentacles)

Hello! Thank you for wondering about me. I’m a funny, dick-loving goofball with a surprisingly tolerant
husband (his ashes, anyway, Huz is gone now), and an ever-growing menagerie of stuffed animals and edible
balls (in the garden). When I’m not busy writing (which is very rare), I can be found wrangling pests in the
garden, or drawing copious amounts of dicks!
I’ve been scribbling since I was fourteen, and I believe that everyone needs a safe place. My dorky guys fall in
love, make mistakes, and sometimes they fumble a little before finding their way back into each other’s arms.
:D
For more of my books, check out my Amazon page:
https://www.amazon.com/Anna-Wineheart/e/B01KIFJ9S0
Or stalk me through my newsletter:
http://eepurl.com/cske55

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Title Page

Burning For My Prince

Bonus chapter: Burning For My Prince

Bonus chapter: Gareth’s Boy

Secrets in the Snow

Bonus chapter: Secrets in the Snow

1. Four Years Ago

2. The Worst Interview Ever

3. Dom Gets Grilled

4. What is That SMELL?

5. Bar Nights Part 1

6. Bar Nights Part 2

7. Bar Nights Part 3

9. Jesse Loses His Temper

10. Bar Nights Part 4

11. Dom is In Deep

13. Donut Wars: The Beginning

14. Things Get Real

16. The Donut Mystery

17. The Mysterious Morning Sickness

18. Jesse Freaks Out

19. “Donut”, or “Please”

20. The Chapter of Many Kisses

21. Dom Does Not Want To Grovel

22. Secret’s Out

25. Dom Meets the Family

26. The Little Things

27. Dom Tries To Save Jesse

28. Jesse’s in Trouble

29. Dom Comes to the Rescue

30. Jesse Wakes Up

31. More Donuts

32. The Color of Love

Bonus chapter: Alpha in Heat

About the Author

Bonus chapter: Burning For My Prince

Bonus chapter: Gareth’s Boy

Secrets in the Snow

1. Four Years Ago

2. The Worst Interview Ever

3. Dom Gets Grilled

4. What is That SMELL?

5. Bar Nights Part 1

6. Bar Nights Part 2

7. Bar Nights Part 3

9. Jesse Loses His Temper

10. Bar Nights Part 4

11. Dom is In Deep

12. Christmas Eve

13. Donut Wars: The Beginning

14. Things Get Real

16. The Donut Mystery

17. The Mysterious Morning Sickness

18. Jesse Freaks Out

19. “Donut”, or “Please”

20. The Chapter of Many Kisses

21. Dom Does Not Want To Grovel

22. Secret’s Out

25. Dom Meets the Family

26. The Little Things

28. Jesse’s in Trouble

29. Dom Comes to the Rescue