Unwitting Mate: An Mpreg Paranormal

Romance (Valleywood Series Book #17)

Kelex
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UNWITTING MATE
AN MPREG SHIFTER ROMANCE

VALLEYWOOD
BOOK SEVENTEEN
KELEX
 Edited by
MARIE MEDINA
A TWISTED E-PUBLISHING BOOK

Unwitting Mate

Valleywood, Book 17
Copyright © 2023 by Kelex

Edited by Marie Medina

First E-book Publication: January 2023

Cover design by Cover by K Designs

All cover art and logo copyright ©2023 Twisted E-Publishing, LLC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Created with Vellum
Beta Holden Jacobs is tired of being passed over for almost every role he’s ever auditioned for.
After a decade in Valleywood, he has little to show for it besides a bunch of bit parts and
commercials on his resume. All the good, meaty roles he wants seem to go to alphas. He’s not
sure he has what it takes until one evening at Forbidden Underground changes everything.

Five-foot-nothing Fenn Perry flounces into Forbidden Underground in his pink tee, black tutu,
and even blacker silk stockings and spies the beta of his dreams. When he has to make the first
move, he knows he needs to make it count—and he’s very ready for the challenge. Who knew
this bottom had it in him to play top?

Their bathroom hookup goes into overtime, and they end up at Fenn’s place after. As morning
dawns, an unexpected change will rock both their worlds… in ways neither could have imagined.
 C O NT E NT S

Introduction

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue

Newsletter Sign-Up
Also by Kelex
About the Author
Nestled on the shores of Lake Erie, Pennsylvania, there is a major city that no one has ever heard of.
Valleywood is home to some of the richest and most powerful magical beings in the country. It’s a hub
of commerce, entertainment, and finance in the supernatural world. Unlike the quaint and picturesque
Vale Valley to the south, Valleywood is a loud and vibrant city--and they have the seedy underbelly to
go with it.

Stripped of his powers by his father, Mayor Loki Boroson oversees the parts of the city that interest
him. And what interests Loki usually means mischief and drama. But over the years, the magic of this
city has faded, and along with that comes the threat that this cornerstone of life for so many people
might one day vanish for good.

In an age where gods live among men, love might be the only magic that matters.
 1

“I ’m sick and tired of losing parts to alphas,” Holden Jacobs muttered over a beer at Forbidden
Underground. His friend and fellow actor, Jake Jennings, sat beside him, sipping from a
bottle. The place was perhaps half-full. A handful sat at the bar, some looking like they’d lived on
those same stools for an eternity. Others spread through a few booths along the wall across from them.
There was enough chatter to fill some of the empty spaces. His thoughts were already loud enough.
He didn’t need bedlam on the outside, too.
He watched a drop of condensation roll down the curved neck and along the body of his bottle before
he rammed a loose corner of the label with his fingernail, needing to damage something. His muscles
coiled, full of frustration and bluster. In his mind, he was tossing chairs and flipping tables in some
defiant act of wrath… but he wasn’t that kind of guy in real life. Nope, he wasn’t anyone’s kind of
guy, it seemed.
At least, not in Valleywood.
A couple of hours before, Holden and Jake had just wrapped on a commercial for a local restaurant
where he’d probably go unnoticed. Just like the last three commercials and two bit parts he’d
snagged. He sighed and took a long drink, wishing it was something stronger. Yet he knew what the
aftermath would be if he chose that route. He had a casting call the following afternoon. For another
part I won’t get.
He slammed the bottle down harder than he’d intended and received stares from those on either side.
Fuck it, let them stare. It seemed the only attention he could get. He glanced at Jake and watched as
the man gulped down the last bits of their third round. The guy was being uncharacteristically quiet.
“Aren’t you tired of it?”
Jake shrugged noncommittally. “I stick to small parts in as many productions as possible. I don’t read
for leading male roles. They always go to alphas.” Jake waved down the bartender, a handsome alpha
himself.
Most likely an actor with those looks.
“I keep telling you this, and you never listen,” Jake continued. “Lay off the leading roles. Now you
know why I told you that.”
“I’ll get nowhere if I keep doing character work. An episode here, an episode there. I don’t get to
show any range. No way I can cultivate a fan base.”
“Pffft… fan base? I’m alright simply paying for a roof over my head and food—and beer—” Jake
said as he hoisted his empty into the air. “In my belly.”
Their bartender arrived. “Another?”
“Yep,” Jake said. “Lemme ask you something first.”
The bartender paused, lifting a brow.
“Knowing this town,” Jake started. “And just looking at you tells me you’re an actor.”
The bartender’s lips twerked. “Oh?”
“Am I wrong?” Jake asked, arching a brow.
Their bartender chuckled, the dimple that formed making him even better looking. “No. You’re
correct.”
“How easy was it for you to get a job in this town?” Jake’s come-hither smile spread like warm
molasses over a stack of fresh hotcakes.
Their bartender drew in a long breath, lifting his shoulders, as he appeared to consider that question
for a moment. “Not easy at all. I can’t catch a break.”
“You any good?” Jake asked.
“I like to think so, but it’s all subjective, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, it is,” Jake said. “I keep telling my friend here to be glad he’s a working actor. Has he
nabbed a big starring role or become a regular on a series? He is almost always working, which is
good for two schmuck betas in this town. He disagrees.”
The alpha sized Holden up. “I would be happy to have regular work.”
“Seeeee?” Jake asked, eyeing Holden. When he didn’t reply, Jake turned his attention back to the
hunky bartender. “I’ve been around a while. Work consistently. If you ever need any help…” Jake
waggled his eyebrows a bit. “Or anything… I can give you my number.”
Holden blew out a surprised breath as the alpha chuckled, his grin capable of lighting up any room.
The guy was stunning, though not Holden’s type. No, he was partial to omegas, although they often
ended up with alphas, too. Such was his luck.
“If I had a nickel for every offer I’ve gotten like yours, I’d be a rich man by now and wouldn’t need to
act.” The bartender pulled two fresh beers from the well nearby. He flipped off the tops with a
practiced hand before placing them on the scarred surface of the bar. “I appreciate it, though.”
“I had to shoot my shot,” Jake replied, winking.
“You fellas call me if you need another round,” the alpha said, tapping the bar.
Holden turned to a grinning Jake. “You won’t shoot your shot for a bigger role, but you’ll do it for an
alpha who’s clearly out of your league?”
Jake sputtered on his beer. “Clearly out of my league? Well, fuck you, too.”
Jake wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He was an Average Joe.
And Average Joes didn’t get fine-as-hell alphas unless they were filthy rich. Jake wasn’t that, even if
he was consistently working.
“Look at him,” Holden said, glancing at the bartender once more. The guy had that it factor. The
charisma to draw the eye. Hell, Holden had caught himself staring a few times and alphas weren’t his
thing. “That’s a face meant to be on the big screen. I bet you a twenty right now that he lands a movie
deal any day now. Hell, make it fifty.”
“I’m not taking that bet. You’re going to win,” Jake assured him. “But I know when to reach for the
stars and when to be at peace with the hand I was dealt. You should learn that, too.”
Holden drained the rest of his beer before reaching for the new one. “I can’t help it if I want more.
Like you with that alpha, perhaps I’m punching over of my weight class, but I’d rather make the
attempt than settle.”
“You call it settling. I call it a decent life,” Jake murmured.
The outer door opened, and a group of beautiful omegas sauntered into the bar like they owned the
place, their chatter loud and their laughter almost infectious. They caught the eye of every man and
woman inside Forbidden Underground. One omega returned Holden’s stare. The prettiest of the
bunch, wearing heavy eye makeup and a delectable color on his lips that caused Holden to wonder
how those lips tasted. Cherries, he was absolutely sure. A pink cut-off tee and a black, frilly tutu,
heels and stockings rounded out the look.
Warmth flooded Holden’s body; his breath quickened.
The omega smiled at him, a hint of white teeth peeking through those rose-colored lips.
“Talking about punching over your weight class.” Jake chuckled to himself.
“Hey, he smiled at me,” Holden mentioned. His gaze never left the group… or rather, the omega
demanding his attention. As soon as the group took a seat in a booth near the back, he waved the
bartender back toward them.
“Need another already?”
“No. You see that omega over there? The one in the pink t-shirt?” Holden’s focus drifted to the omega
and stayed there. The omega lifted his gaze and met Holden’s again, a hint of a smile on his lips.
Holden couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yep,” the bartender replied, mirth in his tone. “Can’t miss him.”
“Whatever he orders… put it on my tab.”
“Will do,” the bartender added.
Holden turned to Jake, who watched him with a wide grin. “Well, I’ll be…”
“What?” Holden asked, forcing himself not to stare at the pretty in pink omega. It was harder than it
should’ve been.
“An omega like that… giving you some serious signals.”
So, it’s not my imagination. That caused his smile to grow wider. “I’m not exactly chopped liver.”
“No, but you are only a beta, as you grumbled so eloquently only moments ago.”
“It’s not as if omegas never go out with betas. They do it all the time.”
Jake shrugged. “Another thing that always ends up going with an alpha. Big roles and hot omegas.
That’s why I don’t bother with either of them.”
Holden eyed the group again and noticed his omega openly staring.
His omega? Pffft.
“But what do I know? He appears interested,” Jake mentioned. “You should go over there.”
His libido agreed, but his doubts wouldn’t allow him.
“No. He’s with a group of friends, and they’re having fun. I don’t want to intrude,” Holden said. That
stare had begged him to intrude. Hadn’t it?
Or was he simply lying to himself?
“I should keep my damned mouth closed. I’m not the one-night kinda guy.” Jake eyed the omega once
more and shook his head.
“Who said I was a one-night kinda guy?”
“I’ve met omegas like that. They’re a lot of fun. But also, wild and unruly… you can’t pin them down
for long,” Jake said.
Holden eyed Jake. His friend the settler. Jake had had two relationships in Valleywood that Holden
was aware of. Both long-term. Neither with any sparks. If Jake met someone somewhat attractive who
put up with his bullshit and mothered him, then Jake had found the one. Just like he settled for a
steady career that would land him nowhere.
He glanced over at the omegas, laughing and enjoying themselves. Having the time of their life. Pretty
in Pink wasn’t paying him a lick of attention. Perhaps it had been his imagination, after all.
Can’t pin them down long.
Holden sighed, realizing the omega had likely only been toying with him. His luck wasn’t that good.
Fuck, I’ve got to get out of here and get my head straight. Sitting here whining isn’t going to make
anything better. He drained the last of his beer. “I’m going to hit the head… and then close out my
tab. Always good to hang out, Jake.”
Jake saluted him with his bottle and continued to drink away the rest of the afternoon.
Holden headed for the bathroom, keeping his attention focused away from the booth in the back. He
didn’t want to give the impression that he was one of those assholes who invaded spaces he wasn’t
welcome in. He ambled up to the closest urinal, but before he’d gotten his zipper down, the bathroom
door swung open, and another man walked up.
To the urinal immediately beside him.
He cast a glance to his right—there were five open urinals. Why did the guy have to pick the one
immediately to the left?
Then he realized it was Pretty in Pink.
“You come here often?”
His breath was dragged from his lungs as he got his first close-up look at the omega. He was even
more breathtaking. A stirring gnawed at Holden’s belly, his cock pulsing in his hand.
The omega cocked his head to the side, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “Well? Do you?”
Holden chuckled, at last finding the ability to speak. “Is that a pickup line?”
The omega grinned. “Maybe.” He paused, his stare drifting down to Holden’s cock in hand.
Something that sounded like a contented purr drifted to his ears. “So, do you?”
“Come here often? No. It’s my first time.”
“Mine, too. I guess it was my good fortune, hmm?”
“Oh?” A shiver raced up Holden’s spine as a sweet scent curled around him. Squirrel shifter? No…
why can’t I place his scent?
Pretty in Pink smiled and turned, skirt up, gripping his thick shaft at the base. Garters held the
stockings in place, but there was no sign of underwear… or rather, panties. The omega seemed the
type to wear panties. Silky ones with lots of lace. Another shiver ran the length of him, and his cock
grew harder.
“I suggest you get your ass into one of those stalls before I make you get on your knees right here,
where everyone can watch you suck my cock.”
Holden swallowed, his throat tightening. “What?”
“You heard me, big boy. Get into that stall before I make you.”
Heat slammed into Holden like nothing he’d ever experienced. Make me? The omega was tiny.
Couldn’t be much over five feet, though the heels helped. He’d never met a dominant omega and
never once imagined one hitting on him, but the hell if it wasn’t a massive turn-on. His cock turned to
stone in his hand, ready to do whatever the tiny terror wanted. A coy smile came to his lips. “I think
I’d like to see how you’d make me, little one.”
A sharp eyebrow arched seconds before the omega dragged a handful of his hair between slim
fingers.
The bite of pain made him hiss. His head cocked at an uncomfortable angle.
“Are you ready to follow my orders?”
Holden was past the occasional shiver. He trembled, his hands shaking the worst. “Yes, sir.”
Pretty in Pink leaned in close, lifting on his toes to press a kiss to Holden’s lips. “I like it when you
call me that.” He winked. “Now do as I say, before I’m forced to spank you. You wouldn’t be able to
sit for a week.”
A wink softened the blow of those words, yet Holden was quite sure he meant them.
Closer, the man was even sexier. All long lashes, pouty lips, adorable freckles, and rock-hard cock.
Amber eyes held his stare. A riot of long russet curls was swept into a ponytail at the back of his
head. A faint sweet, floral fragrance toyed at his nose. Holden inhaled, savoring the aroma mixed
with the raw scent of their need. Holden backed into the nearest stall, never taking his eyes off the
most spectacular creature he’d ever envisioned.
Pretty in Pink followed him in, struggling a bit with the voluminous skirt, but managing it well enough.
The door to the stall was closed, trapping him inside with the omega. His heart slammed into his
chest, his leaking cock dribbling on the tiled floor.
The omega lifted his tutu again, exposing his hard shaft. “On. Your. Knees.”
Holden’s lips curled up. “Yes, sir.” He knelt and was soon eye to eye with the omega’s cock. The
head curved upward, lying on his flat belly under the skirt’s waistband. Holden ran both palms up the
omega’s stocking-clad thighs, the silky texture drawing a sigh of delight from them both. He leaned
closer, pressing his face into the omega’s belly, right beside the cock.
Pretty in Pink smelled delicious, and he wanted to sample every inch. Ah… a bunny shifter? How
adorable. He frowned, not sure if he had the correct species pinned down. He had little more time to
ponder. Gentle fingers skimmed through his hair before becoming a little more forceful again and
leading him toward the heart of things. Holden opened his mouth and drew the head of the omega’s
cock between his lips and sucked it as deep as he could.
“Oh, yeah, baby. That feels so good. Your mouth is as hot as I imagined it would be.”
Holden shivered, the thought of his petite companion picturing them having sex sending his libido into
the stratosphere. He closed his eyes at the praise, yearning for more. The chorus of moans coming
from the omega caused him to smile around the shaft and suck all the harder. He drew the shaft deeper
on the next stroke, and then deeper still.
“You’re a good boy, you are.”
His hair was yanked harder. The pain edged in pleasure.
“But I wanna see what you can really do.”
The omega tangled his other hand in Holden’s shoulder-length waves and face-fucked him. Holden
sucked with everything in him… and then some. Eyes weeping, he gripped the omega’s pert ass
cheeks, massaging them and attempting to control the tempo as best he could. The omega slowed and
withdrew his cock from Holden’s lips.
“You can get up now.”
Holden frowned. “But you haven’t come.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry about that.”
Holden rose to his feet, still frowning. He’d hoped to sample the omega’s sweet cream on his tongue.
The early hints of it had been tempting but hadn’t been enough.
As soon as Holden had risen, the omega caressed his hard shaft from base to tip. He collected a bit of
Holden’s cum from the head onto one finger—which he brought to his lips. Holden’s gaze followed
that finger as it disappeared between those perfect, pink lips. The omega sucked it, his eyes closing in
what appeared to be satisfaction, a moan escaping his lips. Holden’s cock grew harder, an
impossibility.
“Oh, that’s yummy,” he sighed. “But I have other plans for you.”
Other plans?
“Turn around.”
Holden’s eyes widened. “Ah… I rarely bottom.” He switched on occasion but preferred to top. Most
omegas leaned toward submission, at least the ones he’d been with. He’d bottomed with a few of the
betas he’d dated, but never an omega.
“I didn’t ask. I said turn around,” Pretty in Pink replied.
Holden spun. He was shoved against the divider wall and his feet kicked apart. A cold, wet fingertip
pressed against his anus, and he jumped. Where the hell did he get lube?
“Ahh…” His lips opened to argue.
As soon as the slick finger slid inside, his protest switched to a moan of pleasure.
Gradually, the finger slid deeper, caressing him as no one had in years. It had been a long, long time
since he’d switched, and his body wasn’t accustomed to the pressure. It took a couple of minutes
before he could relax. One finger became two… and he stiffened at the invasion. A caress that
whispered across his prostate had his knees nearly buckling, and a moan tore from his lips. Two
fingers became three… and his body throbbed for more.
“How’s that feel?”
“G-” Holden cleared his throat, struggling to talk. “Good.”
“Just good? I think that moan spoke of something more than good.”
Pretty in Pink found his most sensitive spot again and massaged. Holden’s back bowed, a long moan
dragging from his lips—seconds before he came hard enough to blur his vision and stars to appear.
He keened through the spurts, his cock untouched as he came on the tile below.
Once done, left him shaking and weak. Gasping for air. He leaned against the partition, afraid he
wouldn’t stay upright without the help. The omega had taken him over the edge in a matter of seconds.
Seconds.
Behind him, the rip of a condom wrapper caught his attention. Tensing, he opened his mouth to
argue… but couldn’t find the words. Not when he witnessed the molten heat in the man’s eyes. The
omega had clearly ensorcelled him. Holden looked over one shoulder again and watched as the man
guided his cock closer.
“Still not a bottom, pretty boy?”
Holden let out a strangled moan.
“Perhaps I could take that as consent,” the omega whispered toward his ear. “But I want to hear the
words.”
Holden’s mouth refused to work.
“No consent, no second orgasm.”
He was stunned at how badly he wanted that promised orgasm. He was standing with legs akimbo—
in a bathroom stall, no less—his butt ready to be pillaged by an omega, and he didn’t know how the
hell he’d gotten there. It’s not the image that had swirled around in his mind when he’d first eyed the
guy, that was for fucking sure.
“Last chance.”
“F… fuck… fuck me,” Holden whispered.
“That’s it, baby,” Pretty in Pink said before gripping one of Holden’s hips with a firm hand.
Seconds later, Holden felt the head of the omega’s cock pressing against the tight band of nerves.
Thank heavens the man had prepared him a bit. The entry still stung at first, tissues unaccustomed to
stretching drawn wide. Inch by agonizing inch, he was filled… the pain a prologue to the pleasure he
suspected would soon come.
“You okay, baby?”
“Yeah,” Holden murmured. “Gimme a minute.”
The omega froze, his cock rooted inside. He pressed gentle kisses along Holden’s back, through his
white button-down shirt. As the seconds passed, he grew accustomed to the burning sensation. After
casting another glance over one shoulder, he nodded.
Pretty in Pink was so fucking gorgeous it took his breath away.
“Good boy,” the omega purred before slowly drew out… and then thrust back inside. “Such a good,
good boy…”
The gentle praise broke him. Confused by the pain in his chest and the tears stinging the backs of his
eyes, he forced the emotion aside, focusing on the unexpected pleasure. Holden’s breath came in pants
and shuddering gasps. The omega worked his ass over in practiced motions, working all the angles.
As the pleasure mounted, he pushed back into the next thrust and the one after, meeting the omega
stroke for stroke. A hand snaked around him, massaging his re-hardened cock.
The omega pumped his fist in time with the thrust of his hips. The promise of pleasure washed over
him, electrifying every cell in his body. Sweat beaded his brow and his upper lip as he took the
pounding he’d never dreamed of wanting. Another tremor worked up his spine, another glorious
orgasm hovering just out of reach.
He closed his eyes, wishing he saw the image they made together. A tiny, pink-covered omega in
stockings and heels thrusting an enormous cock into a big beta male, who was enjoying every second
of that rough fucking.
The ruffled edge of Pretty in Pink’s skirt rubbed against his back with every thrust, cementing the
mental picture in his mind. With that, the intense fucking, and magical hand at his cock, he shattered,
screaming louder than he should’ve as he came once again. Behind Holden, the omega tensed and
added his own shouts of release along with the sounds.
When it was over, they both breathed deep and rough. Seconds later, a flush sounded from a urinal
just outside the door. Had someone witnessed their fucking? Holden had been so focused on
gratification, he’d heard nothing but their grunting, groaning, and moaning… and the staccato beating
of his heart. His face, already hot and coated with a fine sheen of sweat, grew even more inflamed.
The outer door opened, and they seemed to once again be alone. Pretty in Pink withdrew from him.
Holden drew up his jeans, scared he’d topple over on rubber legs if he wasn’t careful. Once he had
them up and zipped, he spun, watching as the used condom was tossed into the toilet.
“That was fun,” the omega said, grinning. Pretty in Pink gripped the front of Holden’s button-down
and dragged him down for a quick kiss. His eyes sparkled, even in the low light of the bathroom stall,
and Holden was enamored. “Wanna have a little more?”
Holden’s heart still clamored in his chest, and his lungs hadn’t settled. His ass was sore, but no way
in hell was he telling the omega no. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m starving, for one. I’ve had too many cocktails this afternoon and I need food. I wouldn’t have
agreed to stop here had I known this place only offered stale pretzels and even staler nuts.” He
smiled, the expression enough to take Holden’s breath away. “I figure I owe you dinner, at the very
least. You took my cock like a champ.”
Holden chuckled, his face once again growing red. “Not sure how that happened.”
The omega grinned. “But it was really good, right?”
“Oh, it was better than good.” It had likely been top three sexual encounters, if not the very top.
“Glad to hear it,” the omega murmured, a pleased, husky tone to his voice. He leaned in closer,
gripping the front of Holden’s shirt tight. “Dinner… and then maybe after that… I can let you fuck me.
I’m sure you’re sore. I’m not little where it counts.”
Holden laughed. “No, you surely aren’t.”
In an instant, the thought of claiming the omega’s ass became a moral imperative. Holden’s cock
attempted to rise to the occasion, but he was spent. That was fine. The promise of later lingered in the
air. A couple of hours and he expected he’d be ready to go again… and again. The one thing he knew
was there was no way he was letting the spitfire slip through his fingers.
Can’t pin them down long.
“I can’t imagine anything sounding better in my life.”
Pretty in Pink smiled, the sensual curl to his lips a siren’s call. “Come on then, baby. Let me take you
out tonight.”
Holden smiled, bemused and bedazzled in the best possible way.
 2

A fter a quick goodbye to his friends, Fenn Perry climbed into the backseat of the little Honda
he’d ordered on the Loxis ride-share app. The beta wolf shifter slid in beside him.
He’d topped a fucking wolf shifter. He reeled from that realization, floating on air from the crazy
experience.
“All set?” the driver asked.
“Yep.” Fenn said. He’d already placed their destination into the app when he’d ordered the ride. Of
course, he hadn’t asked the beta if his choice of restaurant would be agreeable. He had no idea what
the hell had gotten into him, but leading the charge was pretty damned fun.
Fenn was no Dom.
Or so he’d always thought.
He’d seen the sexy beta at the bar, and his heart had gone all aflutter with desire. The coy looks he’d
sent the guy’s way hadn’t worked, so he’d taken matters into his own hands when the beta had passed
by and never even looked his way. His cock had had a mind of its own, and he’d let it lead the way.
Only now the wild encounter was over and the audacity he’d found deep down had vanished. His
sated cock had stopped doing all the thinking. What the hell did he do next?
He glanced over in the twilight, through his long, fake lashes. The gorgeous beta had shoulder-length
dirty blond hair, and a neatly trimmed beard covered his face. Trim body, a bit big for a beta, but
well-muscled. But it had been the man’s eyes that had called out to Fenn. That first silver-blue flash
had his heart beating faster and had been the match that lit his inferno.
Those eyes had held whole worlds within them, an adventure calling Fenn’s name.
They flashed again, bright in the dying light, alive with lust and interest. Fenn’s insides warmed with
the need he saw still lingering. One fuck hadn’t been enough for him… and it seemed it hadn’t been
for the beta, either.
“So…”
The beta ran his palms down his jeans-covered thighs, appearing as bashful as Fenn felt. “So…?”
“I suppose we should start with names.” He lifted a hand. “Fenn.”
The warmth of the man’s touch enveloped him and sent spirals of need through his body.
“Holden.”
Holden held his gaze and shook his hand, the flesh-to-flesh contact somehow more intimate than what
they’d done in the bathroom.
Fenn could no longer hide behind the bravado he’d faked back there.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Holden murmured huskily. “Fenn. That’s a nice name.”
The beta’s deep voice caressed him like a lover would, lapping up his neck as it drifted to his ears.
He sank back against the Honda’s seats, barely noticing the city passing outside the window behind
Holden’s head. He luxuriated in being the focus of the man beside him. “It’s very nice to meet you,
too.”
Holden didn’t release Fenn’s hand. He clutched it, dragging it against his thigh and keeping it prisoner
there. Prisoner? No. Fenn was a willing accomplice in the slow, sensual seduction. The beta rubbed
the pad of his thumb against the back of Fenn’s hand, lazily stroking and stoking the flames that had yet
to die. Fenn sighed, tangled in Holden’s spell.
“Where might we be going?” Holden asked, breaking his stare for the first time since clasping Fenn’s
hand. He glanced through the front windshield before returning seconds later to recapture Fenn’s gaze.
“My favorite restaurant. I hope you like Mexican.”
Holden’s brow furrowed as a slow smile spread across his very kissable lips. Shit, I never kissed
him. Not really. Not like he deserves—no, like I deserve—to be kissed. Before Holden replied, Fenn
leaned in and stole that kiss.
Holden gasped, surprised, but soon locked lips with Fenn, appearing as hungry for the heated kiss
they shared. It deepened, the hint of demand with every lash of Holden’s tongue clear to Fenn. Holden
was accustomed to being the dominant partner, and Fenn slid back into the submissive role with ease.
When they parted, Holden let out an inaudible sigh. Fenn searched the man’s face in the dying light,
seeking something he wasn’t sure he’d find.
“Is this what I should expect tonight? Kisses out of the blue that fry my brain?”
Fenn giggled. “Perhaps.” He rubbed his thumb over Holden’s lower lip, a smile unwilling to be held
back, spreading across his face. “To be honest, I’ve done nothing like this in my life.”
“Kiss in the backseat of a ride-share?”
“No, I’ve likely done that before, I will admit.” There had been a few drunken nights in Fenn’s past.
Kissing in a backseat wasn’t virgin territory. “I mean, the before. The…” Fenn sighed, not sure how
to explain. “The…”
“Fucking in a bathroom stall?” Holden whispered against his ear before nibbling on the lobe.
Again, Fenn laughed, though the titters mingled some with a moan from that nibbling. “No, I’ve done
that before, too, if I’m honest.”
Holden frowned, confusion washing over his face. “So, what have you never done before?”
Fenn wasn’t sure how to answer.
Holden stared a moment, seeming frozen. “Wait… you mean… you’ve never topped?” Holden’s eyes
went wide before he glanced at the back of the driver’s head, embarrassed to have asked the question
out loud.
The driver’s gaze flipped to Fenn’s in the mirror, a hint of disgust in it. Heat filled Fenn’s face.
Before Fenn answered, the car stopped in front of Cocina de Cozumel.
“All set,” the driver snapped. “Have a good one.”
Holden held Fenn’s stare, as if he was still waiting on that answer. Fenn needed a moment, so he
escaped through the passenger door opposite Holden. Once outside, his lungs expanded, sucking in
air as he begged the universe for a bit of his swagger to return. Spinning, he watched Holden exit the
other side. The car pulled out, leaving a four-foot gap between them.
The question hung between them once more. Fenn’s face flamed. He dragged his gaze away and toyed
with the hem of his tutu.
“Well?” Holden asked, walking closer.
“This place has the best tacos in all of Valleywood.” Fenn captured Holden’s hand and dragged him
along. “And I’ve tried just about every taco in town.”
“Fenn?”
Once inside, Fenn continued to ignore the question. He requested a table for two—outside. While it
was early summer, the nights turned chilly in Valleywood. Few would choose the patio, allowing
them a bit of seclusion. Fortunately, the restaurant usually had outdoor heaters running so it would
pleasant no matter where they were seated.
Fenn followed the hostess, still dragging a confused Holden behind.
Heads turned as they walked through the place, as they usually did with a five-foot nothing omega
wearing a ton of makeup and what human society deemed as women’s clothing. Paranormal creatures
lived by their own rules, but many of the norms weren’t too far from human. Shifters were, of course,
part human themselves.
Valleywood existed on its own set of rules, and had a good share of oddballs, so residents normally
looked the other way. Yet after years of bullying and abuse in his hometown, certain habits were hard
to shake. He might have an extra-thick skin, but he had plenty of cracks where the figurative scars cut
wide swaths.
Balmy palms swayed in the early evening breeze before a spectacular pink, purple, and orange sunset.
The man seated across from him was all the scenery he needed. The hostess placed two menus on the
table before whispering, “Your makeup is amazing.”
Fenn grinned. “Thanks.”
“How did you learn how to do all that? I can barely do what little I do.”
“A lot of hard work and practice. You can find a lot of great tutorials on VikVok.” He had an account
there himself that was filled with them. The internet had been a godsend and taught him a lot of what
he knew. He paid it forward, offering his own tips of the trade.
“Thanks.” The woman grinned. “I hope you enjoy your meal.”
Fenn lifted his menu and cast a glance over it. He knew what he planned to order, but sensed the
weight of Holden’s curiosity across from hm. He needed to stop dragging out the answer to Holden’s
question and just get on with it.
Before he could ready himself, the menu was stolen from his fingers. Holden eyed him. “Can you
clarify that last comment, please?”
Fenn inhaled; Holden’s scent mixed with the heady fragrance of their coupling mixing in with the
delicious aroma of food. His body quickened, the need not yet completely sated. One round wouldn’t
be enough. He leaned back in the chair, the radiant wave from a nearby heater warming him as much
as the image of them writhing in Fenn’s bed. “I’ve topped before.” Which wasn’t a lie. He had. But it
had been other omegas he’d roomed with over the years, exploring his sexuality and theirs. It had
been a long, long time since he’d topped, and he’d damned well never with a beta. Or an alpha, for
that matter.
A glimmer of fear raced through him as he realized Holden closed in on the truth— he was a total
fraud. He wasn’t a Dom. He didn’t even understand where the hell that swagger had come from.
Topping a beta in a bathroom stall? No way! He was still shocked by what he’d done.
Would Holden still want him if the guy figured out he wasn’t what he pretended to be in a moment of
temporary insanity? Although he’d enjoyed every second. He clearly needed to be bolder when it
came to what he wanted.
A fluttering came to his stomach. He dragged his gaze from Holden’s as he toyed with the small
pendant hanging from a chain around his neck. He needed a pinch of that boldness to return and then
some.
“So? What did you mean?”
Red-faced, Fenn relented. “I’m a bottom.”
A hint of a smile curled Holden’s lips.
“Don’t ask me where that dominance came from. The only thing I can imagine is my cock took over
and ran the show. I’ve never commanded someone like that.”
Holden sat silent. Eerily silent.
Fenn’s heart pounded in his chest, needing to hear Holden’s response. Would the beta get up and
leave?
He was a fraud. A complete and utter fraud. He continued to fidget, rubbing his pendant between
thumb and forefinger.
“What’s that you’ve got there?”
Holden reached across the table and caressed Fenn’s fingers wrapped around the medallion, the touch
electric. He lifted the jewelry from Fenn’s grasp and eyed it.
“St. Francis? Are you Catholic?”
“I was raised Catholic but don’t consider myself one.”
“Why the medal, then?”
“My mother gave it to me when I left for Valleywood. I was only fifteen and couldn’t deal with that
town another minute. She was terrified for me, but recognized if I stayed, I might end up dead.” He
glanced down at the medal, the surface worn from his worrying with it in times of distress. “She was
devout. Well, she had been before the church and I had issues. She had a bit of a religious crisis after
one of the priests attempted to chastise me for my flamboyance.” He winced, remembering the crack
of the paddle over his ass. “She continued going, praying that God would help forge a safe path for
me, no matter what our church or its leaders said.”
“I’m sorry you experienced that.”
Fenn shrugged, not sure why he shared something so intimate. Only Bex and Casey knew his full
history outside Valleywood. “It’s not your fault.”
Holden reached for his hand.
Warmed by the tender caress, Fenn relaxed when Holden laced fingers through his and squeezed.
“Regardless, no one should suffer like that in the place meant to nurture them.”
Fenn didn’t know what to say to that other than a weak, “Thank you.”
Quiet fell between them, but the steady rub of Holden’s thumb sent Fenn’s pulse skyrocketing.
“Who’s Francis the saint of?”
Fenn chuckled, glancing down at the medal. “Animals.”
Holden laughed, the sound rich and warm as it lapped over Fenn’s skin.
“That I’m aware of, there isn’t one for shifters, so this was the closest thing in her mind, I guess.”
“I’m trying to pinpoint your animal. Bunny?” Holden asked. “I’m struggling with the scent.”
Fenn grinned. He enjoyed being a bit of a mystery. No one ever guessed right, not completely. “Score
one point for you. You got it half right. Few can manage that.”
Holden drew in his scent, nostrils flaring. Why it turned Fenn on, he wasn’t sure, but it did.
“I get a little hint of predator… but that can’t be right. Not with a bunny.”
“Why? Because I’m so tiny and frail?”
Holden roared with laughter. “Frail? You do not come across as frail, trust me.” He smiled, his eyes
twinkling. “So, what is it? Am I close?”
“You are, wolf.”
Holden sized him up, misunderstanding. “Wolf? You’re half wolf?”
“No, you are the wolf.”
The beta scrubbed one hand under his chin, furrowing his brow. “Bear?”
“Nope! Second strike. You’ve only got one left.”
“C—no wait.” Holden drew in another sniff. “Okay, I might be right. Cat?”
Fenn smiled. “And he hits a home run.”
Holden chuckled. “A bunny shifter mating with a cat shifter? That’s an interesting mix.”
“My dad was a bobcat and a wee bit small for his size. My mom was tiny, even by bunny shifter
standards. They met at some church social event for shifters and fell for one another. The families
weren’t too happy about it and disowned them. I barely knew either set of grandparents growing up.
After Dad died, Mom remarried one of her own to appease her family and get back in their good
graces. Nothing I could do would help there, though. I was still half bobcat. And a freak who liked
makeup and dresses? Ugh, that town…” Why am I sharing my life story with a guy I just met? He’d
just told Holden things he hadn’t told long-term boyfriends. What was it about the silver-blue-eyed
beta that made him open like a frickin’ book?
Holden’s knowing smile made him think the guy saw the gears and bobs turning within Fenn’s brain.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Coal Country, deep into Pennsylvania, almost to the Ohio line.” Fenn crossed one leg over the other.
“Let’s just say it wasn’t a good place for a boy like me.”
“I imagine. Living your life openly and honestly takes courage, though, especially in those conditions.
I admire that.”
The comment stung a little. “Living honestly? I didn’t show you my real authentic self in that
bathroom. I’m sorry for that.”
“There’s no reason to be sorry. I enjoyed it.”
Fenn met Holden’s heated gaze.
“Why do you think you did it? If it’s so outside the norm?”
I have no flipping idea. “Your guess is as good as mine. I saw something I wanted, and I went after it,
I suppose.”
Holden’s gaze warmed. “In my experience, most omegas play it coy. At least, the omegas I’ve dated.
You can never be sure what they want or if they’re truly interested. While I’m shocked at how easily I
submitted… it was fucking hot to have you take control. And to feel wanted. No guessing. You
demanded exactly what you wanted.”
“You liked that, hmm?” Fenn grinned.
“Very much so.”
Fenn held Holden’s gaze, lost in the beta’s eyes. Was it Holden’s sincere honesty that drew him so
much? Sure, the beta was gorgeous. Sure, that wild mane of sandy waves, silver-blue eyes, and fit
body had drawn his attention. At first. But there had been an unmistakable something else that had
quickened his pulse and forced him to make the move the beta appeared reluctant to make. Now, as
the initial lust faded a bit, he realized more drew him into Holden’s web.
“I grew up near you in Ohio.” Holden grinned. “We were practically neighbors.”
Fenn hissed with empathy. “Oof, Ohio?”
“You said it,” Holden replied. “Back there, I was a runt named Stewart Frick.” He smiled,
contemplative. “Then I had a growth spurt at twenty-one, moved here not long after, and started over.”
“Little Stewart Frick, hmm?” Fenn eyed Holden. “Where’d you come up with the new name?”
“Catcher in the Rye.”
Fenn winced. “Really?”
“Hey, I didn’t say it was a good book. For some reason, Holden Caulfield popped into my head when
the renaming process began. My brother had said I was insane, running to the big city and would lose
myself here. I suppose you might say that Holden Caulfield was insane, ran to the big city and lost
himself there, too.”
“Perhaps. Let’s hope your tale hasn’t followed his.”
Holden held his stare, swallowing him in it. “Nope. My brother was wrong. I didn’t lose myself
here.” He winced. “Though, I’ve had my moments of late.”
“Your moments?”
Holden smiled wanly. “I’m a struggling actor. Sometimes the struggle gets to be too much. I’d let
myself get mired in negativity.” He rubbed Fenn’s hand. “I needed tonight more than you realize.”
Fenn held his question for the server, who’d finally made it to their table.
“Sorry for the delay. I was slammed, and no one told me they’d seated you outside.” The guy dropped
off a plate of their loaded nachos. “I hope that makes the wait a little better?”
“It was no problem, believe me,” Fenn replied. The delay had given them time to talk.
The server pulled out his order tablet. “Would you like to hear the specials tonight?”
“Sure,” Holden said, glancing again at his menu.
Fenn snagged his back, why he didn’t know. He always ordered the same damned thing, a creature of
habit. After the list was uttered and choices made, they were once again left in peace.
Fenn watched the way the twilight played over the angles and curves of Holden’s face, realizing it
was a pleasant face. The kind you wanted to wake up to in the morning. “How long have you been in
Valleywood?”
Holden sighed, doing the mental math in his head. “Oh… I came here when I was twenty-two, so
nearly ten years now.”
“Ten years, hmm? That’s a lifetime in Valleywood time.”
Holden chuckled, pulling a nacho from the Jenga tower of chips and toppings on the plate. “Seems
like forever. How about you?”
“Going on fifteen.”
“If ten’s a lifetime, then what’s fifteen?”
“An eternity?” Fenn laughed, enjoying the light that the laughter seemed to spark in Holden’s eyes.
“It’s not a bad thing. I like it here. There’s safety in Valleywood, even with the darker side to the
city.”
“Safety? I’m not sure that I’d say that. Things have seemed worse of late.”
“Acceptance. Maybe that’s a better word. We’re all freaks in Valleywood. I fit in very well here.”
“You’re not a freak,” Holden murmured. “You’re gorgeous.”
Heat flushed in Fenn’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I think you realize you are, and this humble act is just a cover,” Holden said. “I saw how confident
you were in that bathroom.”
“I told you. That wasn’t me.” Fenn shrugged.
Holden chewed on his nacho, watchful. When he was done, he wiped his mouth and grinned. “I think
it was you. The you that you’re too afraid to show to the world. The you that you’re afraid to let
loose.” Holden leaned closer and whispered, “There is a little predator within you, after all.”
“Perhaps,” Fenn said as the server returned with their drinks—a frufru umbrella’d cocktail for him
and a draught beer for Holden. His fruity drink seemed to underscore what he was attempting to tell
Holden. He was fruity and over the top, but dominance wasn’t him.
“Your food should be out shortly,” the server said before leaving them once more.
“I can be confident. At work, I’m very confident. When it comes to my personal life? Not so much.”
“Could it be that desire stripped you down to the bare elements and allowed you to be who you are
down deep?”
Fenn met Holden’s hungry stare.
“Maybe that’s just what I hope,” Holden murmured. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see if it happens
again. I hope it does.”
Holden took a sip of his beer, watching Fenn from over the rim. Silver-blue eyes seemed to glow,
tempting him.
See if it happens again. That seemed to imply more than one night.
Fenn didn’t hate the idea.
“I noticed you the instant I walked in… and I kept giving you my most sultry of looks, but you didn’t
come say hello. When you walked past without glancing my way, I sensed you getting ready to leave,
and that prospect…” Terrified me. “I refused to let you walk out without knowing your name.
Knowing you in some intimate way. I had no intention of Domming out when I walked in there. It
just… happened.”
“I wanted to come over and say hello. I did.” Holden leaned back in his seat and sighed. “My friend
put it in my head that you were out of my league… and I’d started to believe him. And I was about to
leave.”
“Me? Out of your league? Hardly.”
“You’re stunning,” Holden stated. “Simply stunning… and I’m just some random beta.”
“Some random beta? I think you’re underestimating yourself.”
“Seems like we both have that problem.”
Fenn eyed Holden, wondering if what he said was true. “Did I do okay? You know… the sex?”
“Okay?” Holden’s eyes widened. “No. It was not okay.”
Fenn tensed.
“They were probably the most incredible orgasms I’ve ever had in my life,” Holden whispered. “And
I rarely bottom. So, no, it was not okay.” He smiled, a broad grin spreading. “It was amazing.”
The tension drained from Fenn as he stared at the stark honesty coming from those silver-blue eyes. A
smile toyed at his lips, curling at the corners. “Then we can do it again sometime, if you’re
amenable.”
Holden scoffed, a smile on his lips. “I’m amenable.”
Fenn sensed comfort in Holden that he’d never sensed in another man. An awareness that their
meeting was meant to be.
My mate?
Fenn wasn’t sure. They shared chemistry, sure, but not the fireworks he’d always understood there to
be. Yet perhaps there wasn’t always fireworks. Being comfortable and safe might be just as good of
an alternative. After the struggles he’d had his entire life, comfortable and safe sounded damned
good.
“Glad to know you’re willing to try it again. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off after you stated you
weren’t a bottom.”
“I’ve switched before, but it’s not my preference.” He caressed the back of Fenn’s hand. “You
shocked me into submission, it seems.”
A shiver raced through Fenn at the barest caress of fingertip over flesh. Thus far, Holden had rarely
let him go. The constant touch might’ve been weird any other time. That night, it soothed. He wouldn’t
let go, and it appeared Holden thought the same.
“Next time, I want to see how it feels for you to be in control,” Fenn whispered. “I want to see your
dominant side take over.”
A sly smile crossed Holden’s lips. “It would be my pleasure.”
“I usually bottom. You usually top. We had an interesting night.”
“I’ve heard the term gay for you—though I’m not a fan. Perhaps there’s switch for you, too,” Holden
offered with a grin. He squeezed Fenn’s hand. “I’m okay with that. You?”
Fenn squeezed back. “Absolutely.”
Dinner arrived, and they dug in. Fenn missed Holden’s touch the second the beta pulled away to eat,
but it would soon be back here and there. A caress of a knee against his. A roving heated glance. The
brush of his fingertips across Fenn’s knuckles.
After the first bite, Holden moaned. “Damn, these are great tacos. How have I never heard of this
place before?”
“This city is immense. A million people and it seems like almost as many restaurants some days. New
ones are popping up all over. I bet you know some great places I don’t.”
“I guess we’ll have to find out, hmm?”
Fenn had never considered himself a love at first sight kind of guy, but it sure as hell was seeming
like it, especially when Holden kept saying things like that. Words that smacked of permanence.
They’d only just met yet Fenn wasn’t ready to let go anytime soon.
They chatted between bites and laughed for the next hour. As dinner came to a close, anticipation
mounted. He needed to submit to balance the scales. Hopefully his beta was up to the challenge.
“Ready to go?” Fenn asked, his gaze searching Holden’s, seeking the same desire brewing deep.
Holden’s eyes darkened with lust. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine’s right around the corner,” Fenn whispered. He preferred his place regardless. He’d seen
enough bachelor pads to realize he might not like what he found somewhere else, and he didn’t want
to lose respect for the man seated across from him because of dirty sheets in a room littered with
empty beer cans and pizza boxes. Though, he sensed Holden wasn’t that guy.
“I’m across town, so yours it is.”
“Perfect.”
Holden grabbed the check before Fenn was able to snag it.
“I said I was taking you out,” Fenn argued. “I owe you dinner, remember?”
“Nope,” Holden said, shoving a credit card and the check at the server.
After he marched off to swipe the plastic, Fenn chuckled. “Thank you for dinner. You shouldn’t have.”
Holden shrugged. “You didn’t owe me anything after tonight, not when we’re taking turns and I get to
take the lead next.”
A fine tremor came to Fenn’s hand. Not just his hand.
His entire body.
“You can get breakfast in the morning, hmm?”
Fenn liked that idea. Very much. That morning and the morning after that…
He frowned, wondering why his thoughts moved in that direction. He barely knew the man… yet…
The check was returned, and Holden signed away.
“I live close enough for us to walk,” Fenn said as they rose from the table.
“Lead the way,” Holden murmured before lacing one hand with Fenn’s.
Fenn squeezed tight, sensing all was right in his world, regardless if it was or not.
 3

H olden spun in the middle of Fenn’s spacious apartment. High ceilings and immaculate
décor graced the space. It was very much Fenn. Shades of pink and black, lots of glamor,
and lots of elegance. He was a bit out of place in the midst of it all. The guy was clearly doing very
well for himself. He chuckled. “Hell, I should’ve let you buy dinner. This place is huge.”
“You like?”
“I do,” Holden said, drawing Fenn into his arms. Over one shoulder he saw a bunch of packed boxes
stacked as high as the ceiling. Had Fenn just moved in? “What in the hell do you do to afford digs like
this?”
“I’m a special effects makeup artist.”
“For one of the studios?”
Fenn nodded. “Yes, well, not exactly. I work with whoever contracts me. Whichever studio has the
best offer. Occasionally I do events, like a runway show or something of that nature, so I work for
whoever pays me well enough.”
“Movies or television?”
“Started in television, focused on beauty makeup, but that got boring. Week in and week out doing
practically the same makeups. Sometimes for years. It was easy… you got accustomed to your stars’
faces, so you could almost go on autopilot. I prefer a challenge. I made the move to movies a few
years ago and branched out to special effects work. I still do the occasional series here and there, but
mostly movies. A short stint and then on to the next challenge.”
“I’m impressed. Although, I already was.” He hugged the omega, loving the way Fenn fit into his
embrace.
Like he was made for Holden.
Fenn smiled up at him. “I have no sway over casting directors. I rarely interact with them at all, only
to get the initial cast lists. So if that’s what you’re hoping for…”
Holden frowned. “I wasn’t suggesting anything. It’s just nice to see someone succeed in this industry.
It gives me hope.”
“Have I seen you in anything?”
“Late night commercials for Bob’s Beefery?”
Fenn chuckled, and Holden felt silly for mentioning it.
“Hey, hey, hey…” Fenn said, grabbing his chin and forcing his stare. “Everyone has to start
somewhere. Do you think I landed a place like this right after I got here? No. I didn’t. It took years of
hard work.”
“That’s just it. I’ve been here a decade and besides bit parts and commercials, I’ve got nothing on my
resume of merit. I work. Almost every week, I have a bit part in something. Yet no one knows who I
am.”
“Working steadily isn’t anything to sneeze at in Valleywood. I know a lot of people who weren’t that
lucky and went home with their tails between their legs.”
“You’re right… but no actor comes to Valleywood with the dream of eking by.” Holden glanced
around Fenn’s apartment. “I don’t necessarily mean superstardom, but it would be nice to have a solid
foundation under my feet. Comfort, you know?”
“You’ve held on this long. Your dream is still out there, I’m sure of it.”
Holden smiled. “I’m glad you’re so confident.” He shook his head, not meaning to have lowered the
tone. “Change of subject because this wasn’t supposed to be my pity party. I’ve done enough
wallowing today. My day is already infinitely better because of you. We’ve lived in this town
together for a decade and never crossed paths until now. Proof that good things come to those who
wait, right?”
Fenn smiled, wrapping his slender arms around Holden’s neck. The sweet scent of Fenn enveloped
him like a fog, and he wanted to get lost in it.
“I sense something really big started tonight for you and I.”
Holden nodded, almost speechless hearing Fenn utter what had been whispering in his thoughts all
night. Fenn felt like home—like nothing else ever had. He couldn’t stop touching the omega in fear the
man would slip through his fingers before he was ready to let go. Can’t pin them down long. “I’ve
had that same sensation. I’ve never been one to believe in fate or destiny or kismet or whatever you
want to call it, but for the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.”
Fenn nodded fiercely. “We were destined to meet tonight.”
“Yeah.” Holden slid a hand into the back of Fenn’s curly ponytail, reveling in the silky strands. His
heart quickened as a sudden rush of air left his lungs. “I suddenly can’t imagine being anywhere but
right here.”
Fenn brushed a spot on the back of Holden’s neck, and he stiffened. A growl erupted from his lips.
Holden’s entire body shook, a violent trembling that caused stars to float in his vision.
“What was that?” Fenn asked backing up, eyes wide.
Fear had crept into the omega’s eyes, and he didn’t like it.
“Nothing,” Holden whispered, breathing labored. He wasn’t so sure it was nothing, the lingering
pulse in his blood leaving an odd sensation running through his veins. Even so, he reached out to Fenn
and tugged the man back into his arms. He wound his fingers through the omega’s hair and leaned
down, pressing his nose into the curls. Inhaling the sweet, sweet scent, he sighed. “This is an unusual
coloration for a bunny, isn’t it? Or a bobcat for that matter. I’ve never seen this shade of red on one
before.”
Fenn glanced up, a faint hint of fear still in his eyes. “There are breeds of red-hued rabbits, they’re
just rarer. And my hair’s more russet than red.”
“A rare gem,” Holden murmured, sniffing Fenn’s hair again. “You smell so damned good.”
“As do you, wolf,” Fenn said, his voice tight.
The softly spoken words caressed against Holden’s roughness. He nearly dragged Fenn to tiptoes and
planted the kiss he’d been envisioning since the last one the omega had so desperately stolen. He’d
spent dinner watching those lips, hungry for a taste that was finally his. His cock screamed to be
released from the tight denim he wore. “We’ve got too many clothes on.”
“Agreed,” Fenn said as he ripped open Holden’s shirt, buttons skittering across the floor.
They tore at one another’s clothing, piece by piece, until they were naked—except Fenn’s garters and
stockings remained. They were too sexy to remove.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Holden whispered before stealing another rough kiss. When it was
over, he lifted Fenn and the omega wrapped his legs around Holden’s hips.
“Bedroom?” Holden asked between more heated kisses.
Fenn pointed behind him, never turning to see where his hand fell. He was too busy kissing Holden to
pay much attention to anything else. Holden was okay with that because they didn’t necessarily need a
bed. Just a soft spot to land. Somewhere he could pin Fenn beneath him and claim what was his.
Mine…
The whispered word wafted through his sex-addled brain and sounded right. Fenn was his.
Completely his. He carried Fenn toward the bedroom, running into furniture here and there along the
way. His knees would suffer bruises later, but in that moment, he didn’t care about anything other than
sinking inside Fenn’s heat.
Finally, they reached the bedroom. It smelled almost as good as the omega did. He didn’t see much
except for the omega attached to his face. Their kisses robbed them both of air, but who needed to
breathe?
As he prepared to toss the omega into the center of the bed, Fenn again caressed a spot on the back of
his neck. The same spot as earlier. A howl tore through him. His knees buckled, and they dropped to
the floor, Fenn in his arms. Even as intense pleasure coursed through him, he had the clarity to roll,
hitting the floor with his back and saving Fenn from any pain.
That pleasure had a sharp edge to it, almost crossing the line into agony. His body tensed as another
wave tore through him.
“Are you okay?”
Holden breathed through the waning pleasure, panting in short gasps. “Yeah.”
“Something’s wrong.”
“No,” Holden growled, ignoring the bed for the soft furry rug they’d fallen upon. He refused to wait
another second to have Fenn.
“Are you sure?” Fenn pressed, eyes wide.
Holden whimpered, needing the omega’s mind back on sex. “I’m sure, my little bunny,” he whispered
against Fenn’s ear. He snagged his teeth against the lobe, pulling tight.
Fenn shook against him. “Oh, fuck.”
Another growl rose from him, delight at the omega’s response. The growl was met with a moan. A
plea for more. More was what Holden planned to give.
“That’s so damned sexy,” Fenn muttered before allowing his lips to be claimed once more.
They rubbed against one another there on the floor, cock against cock, bare chest against bare chest,
lips against rosy lips—until Holden rose to his knees and rolled Fenn over.
That perfect ass outlined in black satin garters caused his cock to leak. He squeezed the perfectly
round globes, one in each hand. Once he’d toyed with the omega a moment, he spread the cheeks apart
and saw the slick-glistened hole between them. He lowered his head, hungry for a taste.
He lapped at the hole, sweet with slick. The more he sampled, the more emerged. Fenn squirmed
below him, moaning at every swipe of his rough tongue against tender tissue. The moans urged him
farther. Rimming Fenn, he stretched the hole with tongue and fingers, preparing his little bunny-cat.
Sure, Fenn’s cock was big. But his was bigger.
Hard, pulsing, and needy.
He gave his shaft a quick stroke, another growl coming from him in response. Fenn moaned even
louder at the sound, pearls of slick flowing.
Unable to wait another minute to experience Fenn’s wet heat, he rolled the omega over again. Once
turned, Holden lifted his little bunny’s legs over his shoulders and moved into position. He trembled
as he held back, needing to be sure Fenn was ready. “I need you,” he whispered, pressing the head of
his cock against Fenn’s slick asshole. “Do you need me, bunny?”
“Just hurry up and fuck me before I die,” Fenn cried before bearing down on the head of Holden’s
cock.
A growl of pleasure erupted from his lips as he was engulfed an inch or so. It wasn’t enough. He
surged forward, sliding deeper, until he was fully embedded inside his omega. Pausing, he reached
for Fenn’s ass cheek, clutching it in his palm. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Fenn said, shaking. “I need… Holden… I need…”
Holden needed, too. He rose onto his shaking arms and drew his hips back, drawing out of Fenn’s
body before sliding back home. This time all the way past the gland at the base.
“God, yes,” Fenn cried, reaching for him.
Small nails dug into his shoulders, the sting bringing a yip of pain.
Holden broke. Something wild and feral took over. They fucked like the animals they were, slamming
against one another with abandon. Sweat coated their bodies, the scent of sex filling the room. Holden
still tasted Fenn’s sweet slick on his lips and tongue, and it only urged him harder. Faster.
“Holden!” Fenn cried, holding on tight.
The omega’s body spasmed seconds before cum shot from his cock between them. Pleasure coursed
through Holden; the tremors rushed through his cock. Never had he experienced anything like it. He
bellowed seconds before his knot formed, and he emptied deep inside his omega. He stilled, his final
movements languid as he filled Fenn with his seed.
Not that Fenn would get pregnant. The omega wasn’t in heat, so they were protected from that. Yet the
thought of Fenn swollen with his children filled him with an eagerness he had no right to feel. He
stared down into the dewy face of his bunny and smiled, still snug inside.
“That… was… amazing,” Fenn whispered.
“Too rushed,” Holden said. “I wasn’t able to control myself.”
“Shush,” Fenn said, tapping Holden on the arm playfully. “Oh, this knot. It must be the biggest I’ve
ever felt.”
Holden realized there was no real reason to find pride in that. The thought of Fenn with other wolves
made him see green. Yet the praise puffed his chest wide. “I bet you say that to all the boys.” He
smiled and winked.
“No, I do not say that to all the boys.” Fenn wriggled against the knot, pulling against the lock. He
gasped. “Oh fuck, it hurts but it feels good, too.”
Holden winced but had to agree. The pain bordered on pleasure. Or was it the pleasure bordering on
pain? There wasn’t a clearly defined line between the two.
Fenn wriggled again, pulling against the link.
A growl came unbidden from Holden. “Stop!”
Fenn froze, eyes wide. Holden frowned, not sure where the growl or the snapping tone had come
from.
“Sorry,” Holden murmured, not quite himself.
“Does that hurt you? When I pull away?”
“A little, but like you said, there’s pleasure, too.” He frowned more. He wouldn’t ruin the amazing
connection they’d found. “Sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” Holden whispered before stealing another kiss. “You’ve given me nothing but pleasure,
my little bunny-cat.”
“I’ve had others call me Bunny or something of that nature, and I’ve always hated it. Why do I not
hate it when you do?”
“Because you’re all mine,” Holden growled without thought.
Fenn gasped… as did Holden.
“I’m sorry,” Holden said. “I didn’t… I mean… I don’t know why I said that.”
“I won’t lie. It was kinda sexy,” Fenn whispered.
“I’m not territorial, trust me.”
“Seems neither of us is acting like ourselves tonight, hmm?” Fenn asked.
“Clearly not,” Holden murmured.
The knot faded, and he was reluctant to pull away, yet he couldn’t remain lodged inside Fenn all
night, no matter how much he wanted to. He withdrew, only to have Fenn’s legs wrap around his hips.
“Not yet,” Fenn whispered. “Give me another minute?”
“Anything for you,” Holden said, the sound of his voice huskier than he was accustomed to.
Mine.
He’s mine.
All mine.
Holden frowned at the whispers of his mind. He wasn’t a possessive alpha-hole. Hell, he wasn’t
even an alpha. Where were those thoughts coming from?
Carefully, Holden rolled them so that Fenn was on top, riding his hips. Fenn lifted onto his elbows
and stared into Holden’s eyes.
“Your eyes were silver-blue earlier. Now there’s no blue… and they’re almost… quicksilver.”
“I’ve never noticed them change before, but then, I don’t make a habit of looking at myself during sex,
either.”
Fenn searched his eyes. “They’re even more beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” Holden replied, cupping Fenn’s cheek in one palm. And mine.
Fenn smiled before turning to place a kiss against his palm.
The voice in Holden’s head was unnerving. It didn’t sound like the man he recognized. He rested his
head back on the rug and stared up at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings.
Sleep overtook him not long after. Hours later, he awoke in the darkened room with Fenn curled up
beside him on the floor. Sleeping on the floor when there was a big comfy-looking bed not a foot from
them was stupid. He lifted Fenn into his arms and carried the omega around to the side of the bed
before tucking him under the covers.
He slipped into the other side. As soon as he was in bed, Fenn, the little heat-seeking missile, was
curled into his side. Holden smiled, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“Mmmm, yeah, baby,” Fenn whispered in his sleep before light snores came minutes later.
The weird sensation curling through Holden intensified. He felt less and less himself.
Yet he was too tired to be introspective. Exhaustion overwhelmed. He closed his eyes, comforted by
the slow, even breaths of his omega at his side.
Sleep claimed him once more.
Too bad he slept fitfully.
 4

F enn awoke to jostling. A hint of dawn broke through his curtains as he blinked his eyes and
came to full consciousness. The bed dipped at his side, and he turned, lifting his head just in
time to get smacked by a flying elbow.
Owwwch!
He moved out of the firing line just in time to miss another flailing jab. Sitting and rubbing the spot on
his temple, he watched as Holden slept fitfully. The morning was barely upon them, the sun not fully
risen. Outside his window, he noted the pale pinks and oranges of sunrise. Carefully, he slipped from
the bed and headed to his bathroom to empty his screaming bladder. He caught a glimpse in the mirror
across from him of the smeared remnants of his war paint from the evening before. As quickly as
possible, he scrubbed it away with makeup wipes before returning to see Holden still writhing in his
bed.
Did he wake the man? Would that be even more dangerous? He rubbed the spot that would more than
likely bruise later and wasn’t in the mood for any more bruises.
He inched closer to Holden’s side of the bed. Lowering to one knee, he shook Holden. “Hey… hey,
wake up. Hold—”
Before he finished, he was flipped onto his back onto the mattress, Holden’s hand around his neck. He
struggled to breathe from the tight fingers squeezing. Reaching up, he pulled against the hold, but there
was no use.
“Hol—Holden,” he sputtered, panic taking hold.
The beta lowered his face and licked a trail over the side of Fenn’s. He stopped near Fenn’s ear and
whispered, “mine.”
Fenn shivered at the whiskey-rough sound. His panic morphed into need. He stopped fighting and
sank deeper into the mattress, gazing up at the man, panting.
“You’re mine,” Holden whispered, his eyes glowing full silver.
Fenn’s womb clenched. Hard. No, no, no… Another clench came, and warmth spreading to his limbs
from his belly. He’d had a heat only a week before. There was no way he was going into another.
No matter how much he refused to believe it, his body writhed with the coming need. Slick dripped
from his ass, his body ripening for the taking.
Holden’s nostrils flared, a satisfied smile curling on his lips. “Mine.”
Another clench of Fenn’s womb threatened to rob him of reason.
Holden’s hand loosened on his neck, but it was still overpowering, melting the bones from his body.
He gasped, the dominant grip wreaking havoc on his senses. There was submitting… and then there
was submitting. Like other omegas, he took suppressants to stave off the need. He’d been on them
since his late teens… and never missed a dose.
He searched his brain, knowing he hadn’t missed one. Sure of it… but the need crushing him did not
feel suppressed. Keening against Holden’s body, the craving for more spread like wildfire. Holden’s
brow furrowed, and he released his hand. He sat back, the glowing eyes fading back to their usual
blue-silver. His mouth opened in a perfect O as he sat back on his haunches.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Fenn witnessed fear and loathing in Holden’s expression. The beta scrambled away from the bed, an
aura of panic surrounding him. Fenn’s womb clenched once more, the heat unwilling to cease.
“Holden,” he whimpered, the plea spoken by something foreign inside. It hadn’t sounded like his
voice. It was the needing.
A silver-eyed Holden took one step closer, the blue vanishing along with the fear. As fast as it had
come, the glowing stopped, and the beta dashed back again.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered, frowning. “I’m sorry.”
Fenn shivered, confused by Holden’s reaction. It appeared two personalities warred within the wolf.
Which would win? While he realized he should root for the safe, comfortable side, the dangerous one
was all too alluring. He rubbed at his neck, sure bruises would appear before the day was over.
Another clench came… and Fenn moaned, slick spilling from him.
Holden stood panting. The blue had once more faded from his eyes, his mouth slack.
“You’re in heat,” the beta whispered, voice primal.
Fenn panted, unable to stop the writhing of his body. “I shouldn’t be.”
Holden stalked closer, the wolf glimmering in his eyes. Teeth bared, canines dropping, the beast was
in charge. Fenn keened, another wave of wanting slamming into him as Holden’s masculine scent
filled his nose.
The bed dipped when Holden climbed in.
“Yessss,” Fenn hissed as Holden pinned him to the mattress. He clung to the frayed edges of reason.
Holden’s weight held him in place. He rolled his hips as far as possible, yearning for the delicious
friction to come.
The beta rose, and Fenn whined… only to be flipped onto his stomach. Lifted to his hands and knees,
Holden plunged into him with one long thrust—all the way past the unswollen gland at the base. Fenn
screamed, pleasure coursing through every cell, firing all at once. Holden shoved his head down to
the mattress, wildly rutting from behind, driving every inch deep.
A haze of lust swirled around him. Fenn drifted through the ether, his conscious mind gone. His body
was in control, and it sought solace in the only thing capable of giving it—the big, strong shifter
driving deep. They went at it for what seemed like hours. He came… and he came… spilling across
his bedding. And still they fucked. When Holden stiffened against him, howling, the knot flared. Fenn
cried out, the gland locking them together. Stretching his hole painfully. He dropped to the mattress,
gasping for air as Holden pulsed within.
The beta’s weight hung over him, making it harder to breathe. Holden rolled to the side, pulling him
along, trapped as he was. The sensation was too much, the pulsating seed filling him hot.
Yet before it was over, sleep overtook him, his body and mind spent.
When he awoke again, his arms and legs draped over the beta. His needing took root once more. Fenn
climbed atop Holden and rode him savagely until they came together, locked once more. The hours
and minutes blended in his memory, desire fogging his brain. He was a raw nerve, his heat stronger
than he could ever recall. Holden and his massive cock were the only things to assuage the hunger.
And hunger, he did.
He roused the following morning, his body intertwined with Holden’s. The beta slept better, but still
fitful, his head moving back and forth as if in a nightmare. Fenn carefully drew his limbs from under
Holden’s heavier ones. Before he escaped the bed, Holden once more had him pinned.
Silver eyes stared down at him.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to pee,” Fenn cried, shoving against unmovable shoulders. “If you don’t move, I’m going to
piss on you.”
Holden didn’t move. He simply growled.
Fenn allowed his own fangs to be bared, too exhausted to be afraid. “I guess you dogs tend to mark
your territory. You want me to do the same?”
Holden’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He rose, allowing Fenn to crawl from the bed.
Fenn raced into the bathroom and took care of his needs. After, he glanced into the mirror. Moving
close, he brushed against the purplish spots littering his neck. He should’ve been horrified.
He wasn’t.
A tremor raced up his spine.
“Did I do that?”
Fenn turned to see Holden wide-eyed, the terror returned. So had the blue to the silver.
“You did,” Fenn whispered, unwilling to lie.
Holden frowned, a shine coming to his eyes. “I’ve never… I’ve never hurt someone like that. I know
the words aren’t enough, but… I’m sorry.”
He walked closer and reached out… but dropped his hand, as if he feared touching Fenn.
“What happened?” Fenn asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His throat was raw. Between the
screams of pleasure and the bruises, it was difficult to talk.
“I—I don’t know.”
From the look on Holden’s face, Fenn sensed it was the truth.
“I think… I think I should go.”
Fenn spun, ready to agree. He rested his hips against the bathroom counter, appraising the man before
him. He didn’t want Holden to leave, but he needed space and time to figure out what had happened
the night before. Torn, he only stood there and stared. His body had enjoyed every second of what
they’d shard, still questions and doubts filled his head. After a lifetime of being bullied and
tormented, he wasn’t into rough handling. Had never allowed it in any of his relationships. His body
had turned traitor for one heat, and that terrified him.
“I avoid alphas because of behavior like that. I don’t date them. It’s my hard and fast rule. I never
expected it from a beta.”
Tears welled in Holden’s eyes. “I would’ve never expected it from myself. I’m not an alpha. Never
have acted like that.”
Silence hung between them.
“I’ve never done that before. I know it sounds trite, but…” Holden shook his head before meeting
Fenn’s gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
Fenn’s mouth opened, instinct driving him to accept the words of contrition and welcome the beta
back to his bed. With the heat gone, his brain warred with that instinct.
Silence prevailed.
Fenn needed distance. He needed to reflect on what had happened between them. Distance would
allow his brain to work clearer. It was best that Holden left… yet he couldn’t find his voice to
demand it.
“I’ve never been with an omega during a heat. Not like that one, anyway. I realize there’s an
expectation after… yet… I don’t want to stay and potentially hurt you any more than I already have.”
Aftercare.
The wolf thought of heat aftercare, even after the rough treatment.
“I can take care of myself,” Fenn murmured.
Holden winced, and his stare grew distant. He exited the bathroom, and Fenn heard the man moving
about the bedroom and then out to the living room. Rooted to the spot where he stood, Fenn couldn’t
move. If he did, he feared he’d beg Holden to stay.
He sobbed, the need to beg taking root.
The outer door closed, and that firm click of the latch locking into the plate shattered the ice he was
bound in. He raced toward the door, his body shaking. Whipping it open, his gaze darted down both
sides of the hallway, only to find it empty. Naked, he spun back inside and grabbed the first piece of
clothing—the torn tutu—that he reached. After tugging it on, he raced downstairs, only to find the
building’s foyer empty. When he busted out to the street, there was no sign of Holden in any direction.
He whirled in the middle of the sidewalk, a sob rising.
How did he disappear so fast?
Fenn searched again, ignoring catcalls from passing cars, but saw nothing. It was then that he realized
he stood outside without his armor on—his makeup—clad in only the tutu. The aftereffects of his heat
left a maelstrom of emotions. He crossed both arms over his bare chest and scuffled back into the
building.
Once safely locked inside his apartment, he peeled off the tutu off and started a bubble bath, his body
needing relief. His bottom was sorer than he ever recalled it being, yet the stretch and pull was
delicious all the same. After slipping into the hot water with a hiss of pain, he leaned against the tub,
seeking solace.
He found little.
While the water helped, it did nothing for the wild thoughts running through his mind. His mind
envisioned the soaking bath at his new place. What he wouldn’t have given for that instead of the
small tub that scarcely allowed his short, little legs to stretch out the whole way. How any normal
sized shifter used that tub, he wasn’t sure.
Fenn reached for his phone to check the time and realized then that they’d never exchanged numbers.
He hadn’t learned Holden’s last name. There was no way he could reach out to the man later to sort
through their shared experience.
Sure. Sort through what happened. You only want to see him again so he can slide that massive
cock into you again.
Ignoring the little voice in his head, he searched the magical corner of the internet made especially for
creatures such as he, pursuing answers as to why he’d gone into heat weeks early. Fenn took his
suppressants regularly. His cycle was almost never off schedule, no more than a day.
Holden hadn’t been himself, either. Had he somehow caused it?
The heat had been terrifying… electrifying… too much and not enough all in the same experience.
Stumbling onto a message board, he found mentions of meeting a mate triggering an unscheduled heat.
Yet he wasn’t sure Holden was his. Was it possible, sure?
A thought hit him.
They hadn’t used condoms.
Fenn religiously used condoms, even had earlier when he’d fucked Holden… yet they hadn’t even
come to mind once in the apartment. It was as if his brain had completely shut down in all regards.
It was just another in a long list of strange occurrences. He attempted another search, using other
keywords, but came up short. He checked message boards and every little corner he could think of,
but nothing. Sure, there were mentions of off-kilter heats, but none sounded like what had happened to
him.
As the water turned cool, he climbed trembling from the tub and drew on his fluffy terrycloth robe.
Falling back against the bed that still smelled of sex and Holden, he yanked one of the pillows closer
and drew in the scent. Another final clench came to his womb, his body too exhausted to respond.
The next clench came to his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since the day before the last and his body
needed nourishment. He ordered breakfast delivery through an app and forced himself from the bed.
Scanning his bedroom, he realized it was time to finish packing. Not much longer and he’d be in the
house of his dreams. No more renting. No more landlords. Yet he was sad to say goodbye to the
apartment. Once, it had been his dream.
Dreams changed. They grew and took on new challenges.
After another box was filled, a knock came to the door. While he knew it was likely his breakfast,
hope swelled that Holden had returned. When he only found Bex there, his shoulders slumped.
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” his best friend said before taking a step inside the apartment. He
clutched two large cups of coffee that smelled delectable. He paused in front of Fenn, his head
cocking to the side. After handing over one of the cups, a hand flashed out and lifted his chin. “Who
—the fuck—did this?”
“It’s no big deal,” Fenn murmured.
“It looks like a big deal,” Bex replied, urging Fenn back. He closed the door behind him and turned
Fenn’s head from side to side to get a better look. “Who?”
Before Fenn answered, Bex sniffed the air.
“You had sex? Is that who did this to you?” Bex’s eyes widened. “That beta you left the bar with the
night before last. No… there’s no way that guy did this. Did you take an alpha home last night?” Bex
shook his head. “You never go after alphas anymore.”
Fenn sighed at the rapid, machine-gun questions fired his way. He took a long drag on the coffee,
needed a couple of seconds for his brain to kick into gear. The java helped. Not enough. “No, I did
not take someone else home… and yeah, it was the guy from the bar who left the marks, but like I
said, it’s no big deal.”
Or it was a really big fucking deal. He hadn’t decided yet.
Bex narrowed his eyes, silent a moment. “You wanted this? Him to mark you like this?”
Wanted? Not exactly. But his body had sure as hell responded to the dominance of it.
“I did,” Fenn murmured, the fib tart against his tongue.
Bex’s eyes narrowed a bit more before he released Fenn’s chin. “If that’s what you’re into. Just be
careful. Things can go too far, too fast. I know from experience. I nearly lost it one night with this
dude who was super into erotic asphyxiation. Never again!”
“You did not.”
Bex scoffed. “I don’t tell you every little kink I’m into. Not unless it comes up as it did just now.”
Fenn gently rubbed his neck, a slight tremor racing through him at the remembered sensation of that
strong hand pinning him down. Except for the first few seconds, it hadn’t been so hard that he’d been
unable to breathe. Well, not completely. It had been dominant and sexy as fuck and nothing like the
guys he usually bedded.
He’d always been attracted to safe.
Stable.
Secure.
Holden had started off that way… but hadn’t ended there.
Yet the attraction hadn’t waned. If anything, it was stronger. He shivered at the thought of that sensual
threat he shouldn’t have been so lured by.
Bex drew off his jacket and tossed it over the back of Fenn’s couch. “Where do you want me to
start?”
Start? “Oh, shit. I forgot you were coming to help today.” He’d lost a whole day to his heat. His brain
was mush.
“You mean I could’ve stayed home and not gotten into trouble?” Bex asked, glancing over the contents
of one of Fenn’s open boxes. “Where’s Case?”
“Casey? Shit… I have no idea,” Fenn said. Their friend was supposed to be there, as well.
Bex lifted his phone, fingers flying over the surface. “There. Texted him.”
“How about you start with that bookcase?” Fenn said, pointing across the room. After losing a day to
his heat, he had even less time to pack and needed the help.
“Books? That’s no fun. I wanna see where you hide all your secrets.”
“Secrets? I’ve known you for nearly fifteen years. What secrets do you think I hide from you?”
Bex’s gaze lingered over Fenn’s neck. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got a few things still hidden. We both
do.”
Fenn focused on the packing, too raw to talk about what had happened, all while knowing he could
trust Bex with anything. Everything. But he hadn’t had enough time to scrutinize the events, although it
had been replaying in his mind over and over again.
“You gonna miss this place?” Bex asked, placing a few books in the empty box he’d snagged.
Fenn was thankful for the distraction. “Yes… and no.”
“I can’t believe you actually bought property in this town. I don’t think that I would. Things have been
going downhill for years.”
“Downhill? I think it’s on the upswing.”
Bex shrugged, piling more books into the box.
“I’ve never owned anything in my life. Plus, the rent keeps going up. That doesn’t happen with a
mortgage.”
“Yeah, but here you call the landlord when something breaks. You’ll be on the hook for all the repairs
now.”
“It’s not like the landlord has ever rushed to fix anything,” Fenn said. “Two burners on the stove still
don’t work. If it’s my responsibility, I’ll handle it.”
“Two burners? Do you even use the other two?”
“I cook.”
Bex tilted his head.
“A little.”
Bex tossed another book onto the top of the pile. “No more walking down the street to a restaurant, or
store for that matter. You’ll be out in the boonies.”
Fenn snickered. “Boonies? The house is barely fifteen minutes away!”
“In the suburbs!” Bex cried. “Have you thought about buying a car?”
Fenn shrugged. “First I have to learn how to drive.”
Bex stared dumbfounded, the book he held sliding from his fingers. “You don’t know how to drive?”
Fenn chuckled.
“And you said we had no secrets. How did I not know this?”
“I was fifteen when I left home. Bought a bus ticket here. Once I got my first job, I continued to bus it.
Between walking, public transport, ride-share, and friends with cars, I’ve never needed to drive.”
“Until now.”
Fenn nodded. “Until now.”
“Wanna lesson?” Bex asked.
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of
Concerning Women
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Title: Concerning Women

Author: Suzanne La Follette

Release date: June 4, 2022 [eBook #68226]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Albert & Charles Boni,

1926

Credits: MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file
was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK

CONCERNING WOMEN ***
 Transcriber’s Note:

Obvious typographic errors have been

corrected.

CONCERNING
WOMEN
 CONCERNING
WOMEN

by

SUZANNE LA FOLLETTE

ALBERT & CHARLES BONI

NEW YORK 1926

Copyright, 1926, by Albert & Charles Boni, Inc.

Manufactured in the United States of America

To
Ellen Winsor
and
Rebecca Winsor Evans
 CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Beginnings of Emancipation 1
II Woman’s Status, Past and Present 19
III Institutional Marriage and Its Economic Aspects 56
IV Woman and Marriage 93
V The Economic Position of Women 157
VI What is to be Done 207
VII Signs of Promise 270

CONCERNING
WOMEN

Let there be, then, no coercion established in society, and the

common law of gravity prevailing, the sexes will fall into their proper
places.
Mary Wollstonecraft.
 CHAPTER I
THE BEGINNINGS OF EMANCIPATION

It will be foolish to assume that women are free, until books about
them shall have ceased to have more than an antiquarian interest.
All such books, including this one, imply by their existence that
women may be regarded as a class in society; that they have in
common certain characteristics, conditions or disabilities which,
predominating over their individual variations, warrant grouping them
on the basis of sex. No such assumption about men would be
thinkable. Certain masculine qualities, so-called, may be singled out
by amateur psychologists and opposed to certain feminine qualities,
so-called; but from books about the sphere of man, the rights of
man, the intelligence of man, the psychology of man, the soul of
man, our shelves are mercifully free. Such books may one day
appear, but when they do it will mean that society has passed from
its present state through a state of sex-equality and into a state of
female domination. In that day, in place of the edifying spectacle of
men proclaiming that woman is useful only as a bearer of children,
society may behold the equally edifying spectacle of women
proclaiming that man is useful only as a begetter of children; since it
seems to be characteristic of the dominant sex to regard the other
sex chiefly as a source of pleasure and as a means of reproduction.
It seems also to be characteristic of the dominant sex—I judge from
the world’s experience during the domination of men—to regard itself
as humanity, and the other sex as a class of somewhat lower beings
created by Providence for its convenience and enjoyment; just as it
is characteristic of a dominant class, such as an aristocracy, to
regard the lower classes as being created solely for the purpose of
supporting its power and doing its will. When once a social order is
well established, no matter what injustice it involves, those who
occupy a position of advantage are not long in coming to believe that
it is the only possible and reasonable order, and imposing their
belief, by force if necessary, on those whom circumstances have
placed in their power. There is nothing more innately human than the
tendency to transmute what has become customary into what has
been divinely ordained.
Thus among the Hebrews the subordination of woman gave rise to
the notion that she was fashioned out of man’s rib. She was the
result of a divine afterthought, the sexus sequior of the ancients and
more recently of Schopenhauer, “inferior in every respect to the first.”
Since the Divine Artist had had good practice in creating Adam, it
might logically have been expected that His second sex would turn
out even better than His first; we must therefore lay His failure to the
somewhat sketchy nature of the materials He chose to work with.
This Hebrew myth of the creation of woman has had considerable
effect on her status in the era known as Christian. Being “only a
supernumerary bone,” as Bossuet reminded her, she could naturally
not aspire to a position of equality with man. She must remember her
origin, and be humble and subservient as befitted a mere rib.
She was humble and subservient, as a matter of fact, for an
incredibly long time; so long that there exists a general suspicion
even at the present day that there is something in her nature which
makes her want to be subject to man and to live as it were at second
hand. This thought would be even more alarming than it is, perhaps,
if it were not true that men themselves have stood for a good deal of
subjection during the world’s known history. Chattel slavery and
serfdom were abolished from the civilized world only at about the
time that the subjection of women began to be modified; and men
still endure, not only with resignation but with positive cheerfulness,
a high degree of industrial and political slavery. The man who is
entirely dependent for his livelihood upon the will of an employer is
an industrial slave, and the man who may be drafted into an army
and made to fight and perhaps die for a cause in which he can have
no possible interest is the slave of the State; yet one can not see that
this proves Aristotle’s assumption that there are free natures and
slave natures, any more than the subjection of women proves that
they want to be subjected. What the slavery of men, as of women,
implies is the existence of an economic and social order that is
inimical to their interests as human beings; and it implies nothing
more than this.
Nor does the opposition to the emancipation of women which still
finds expression in this country and in Europe, prove anything more
than that superstitious addiction to custom of which I have already
spoken. Those anxious critics who protest that women have got
more freedom than is good for Society make the mistake of
supposing that Society can exist only if its organization remains
unchanged. The same conservatism has opposed all the
revolutionary adaptations which have fitted the social order to the
breakdown of old forms and their replacement by new ones. Yet
when the need for such adaptations ceases, the growth of the social
organism ceases with it, and we have such a spectacle of arrested
development as the civilization of India presents. Society, in so far as
it has become organic, is governed by the same rules as any other
organism: the condition of its health is growth, and growth is change.
Certainly the present tendency of woman to assume a position of
equality with man involves, and will continue even more to involve,
profound psychic and material readjustments. But to assume that
such readjustments will injure or destroy Society is to adopt toward
Society an attitude of philosophical realism, to attribute to it a
personality, to suppose that it is equally capable of destruction with
the individual, and that it may in some mystical way derive benefit
from the sacrifice of the individual’s best interests. But what is
Society save an aggregation of individuals, half male, half female?
Where you have a handful of people forming a community, there you
have Society; and if the individuals are enlightened and humane it
may be called a civilized Society, if they are ignorant and brutal it will
be uncivilized. To assume that its “interests” may be promoted by the
enslavement of one-half its members, is unreasonable. One may be
permitted the doubtful assumption that this enslavement promotes
the welfare of the other half of Society, but it is obvious that it can not
promote the welfare of the whole, unless we assume that slavery is
beneficial to the slave (the classic assumption, indeed, where the
slaves have been women). When we consider the political
organization known as the State, we have a different matter. The
State always represents the organized interest of a dominant class;
therefore the subjection of other classes may be said to benefit the
State, and their emancipation may be opposed as a danger to the
State.
It is evident from the very nature of the State[1] that its interests are
opposed to those of Society; and while the complete emancipation of
women, as I shall show later, would undoubtedly imply the
destruction of the State, since it must accrue from the emancipation
of other subject classes, their emancipation, far from destroying
Society, must be of inestimable benefit to it. Those critics, and there
are many, who argue that women must submit to restrictions upon
their freedom for the good of the State, as well as those advocates of
woman’s rights who argue that women must be emancipated for the
good of the State, simply fail to make this vital distinction between
the State and Society; and their failure to do so is one of the potent
reasons why the nonsense that has been written about women is
limited only by the literature of the subject.
Feminist and anti-feminist arguments from this standpoint centre in
the function of childbearing; therefore it should be noted that the
emphasis which is placed on this function by the interest of the State
is quite different from the emphasis that would be placed upon it by
the interest of Society; for the interest of the State is numerical, while
the interest of Society is qualitative. The State requires as many
subjects as possible, both as labour-motors and as fighters. The
interest of Society, on the other hand, is the interest of civilization: if
a community is to be wholesome and intelligent, it is necessary not
that the individuals who compose it shall be as numerous as
possible, but that they shall be as wholesome and intelligent as
possible. In general, the interest of the State is promoted by the
number of its subjects; that of Society by the quality of its members.
The interest of the State in this respect has been most concisely
expressed by Nietzsche. “Man,” said he, “shall be trained for war,
and woman for the re-creation of the warrior: all else is folly”, and if
one accept his premises he is exactly right. But there have been
many writers on women who have not accepted his premises—not at
least without qualification—and who have yet failed to observe the
antithesis between the interest which the State has, and the interest
which Society has, in the question of population. Hence, mingled
with the voices of those critics who have demanded the subjection of
woman for the sake of children, have been the voices of other critics
demanding her emancipation for the sake of children: and both these
schools of critics have overlooked her claim to freedom on her own
behalf. It is for the sake of humanity, and not for the sake of children,
that women ought to have equal status with men. That children will
gain enormously by the change is true; but this is beside the issue,
which is justice.
The argument that woman must be free for the sake of the race, is
an argument of expediency; as nine-tenths of the arguments against
her legal subjection have been, and indeed had to be. Unfortunately,
humanity is likely to turn a deaf ear to the claims of justice, especially
when they conflict with established abuses, unless these claims are
backed by the claims of expediency plus a good measure of
necessity. Adventitious circumstances have made the social
recognition of woman’s claims a necessity, and their political
recognition a matter of expediency. Otherwise she would have to
wait much longer for the establishment of her rights as man’s equal
than now appears likely. In the Western world her battle is very
largely won; full equality, social, industrial and legal, seems to be
only a matter of time and tactics. This she owes to the great political
and industrial revolutions of the eighteenth century.
The conscious movement towards freedom for women may be said
to have originated in the great emancipatory movement which found
expression in the American and French revolutions. The
revolutionists did not succeed in establishing human freedom; they
poured the new wine of belief in equal rights for all men into the old
bottle of privilege for some; and it soured. But they did succeed in
creating political forms which admitted, in theory at least, the
principle of equality. Their chief contribution to progress was that
they dramatically and powerfully impressed the idea of liberty upon
the minds of men, and thus altered the whole course of human
thought. Mary Wollstonecraft’s book, “A Vindication of the Rights of
Women,” revolutionary though it seemed in its day, was a perfectly
natural and logical application of this idea of liberty to the situation of
her sex. This remarkable book may be said to have marked the
beginning of the conscious movement towards the emancipation of
women.
The unconscious movement was the outgrowth of the revolution in
industry, brought about by the introduction of the machine. Women
had always been industrial workers, but their work, after the break-
up of the gilds, was for the most part carried on at home. When the
factory supplanted the family as the producing unit in society, the
environment of women was altered; and the change affected not
only those women who followed industry to the factories, but also
those who remained housewives, for where these had before been
required to perform, or at least to superintend, a large amount of
productive work, they now found their function, as the family became
a consuming unit, reduced to the superintendence of expenditures
and the operation of the household machinery—a labour which was
increasingly lightened by the progress of invention. With domestic
conditions so changed, what was more natural than that the
daughters should go into the factory; or, if the family were well-to-do,
into the schools, which were forced reluctantly to open their doors to
women? And what was more natural than that women, as their
minds were developed through education, should perceive the
injustice and humiliation of their position, and organize to defend
their right to recognition as human beings? “If we dared,” says
Stendhal, “we would give girls the education of a slave.... Arm a man
and then continue to oppress him, and you will see that he can be so
perverse as to turn his arms against you as soon as he can.”
Women in the factories and shops; women in the schools—from this
it was only a moment to their invasion of the professions, and not a
very long time until they would be invading every field that had been
held the special province of men. This is the great unconscious and
unorganized woman’s movement which has aroused such fear and
resentment among people who saw it without understanding it.
The organized movement may be regarded simply as an attempt to
get this changing relation of women to their environment translated
into the kind of law that the eighteenth century had taught the world
to regard as just: law based on the theory of equal rights for all
human beings. The opposition that the movement encountered
offers ample testimony to the fact that “acceptance in principle” is
more than a mere subterfuge of diplomats and politicians. The
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries resolutely clung to the theory of
equality, and as resolutely opposed its logical application. This is not
surprising; most people, no doubt, when they espouse human rights,
make their own mental reservations about the proper application of
the word “human.” Women had hardly been regarded as human in
mediaeval Europe; they were considered something a little more
from the chivalrous point of view, and something a little less from the
more common, workaday standpoint. The shadow of this old
superstition still clouded the minds of men: therefore it is hardly
surprising that the egalitarians of the French Revolution excluded
women from equal political and legal rights with men; and that the
young American republic which had adopted the Declaration of
Independence, continued to sanction the slavery of negroes and the
subjection of women. How firmly rooted this superstition was, may
be seen in the following irresistibly funny excerpt from the writings of
that great American advocate of freedom, the author of the
Declaration, Thomas Jefferson.

Were our State a pure democracy, in which all its inhabitants

should meet together to transact all their business, there would
yet be excluded from their deliberations (1) infants until arrived
at years of discretion. (2) Women, who, to prevent depravation
of morals and ambiguity of issue, could not mix promiscuously in
the public meetings of men. (3) Slaves.

Thus does superstition cast out logic. Nor does superstition die
easily. The masculine assumption, usually quite unconscious, that
women are unfit for freedom, bids fair to persevere as stubbornly as
the feminine assumption that marriage offers a legitimate and
established mode of extortion.[2]
If the conscious feminists bore the brunt of the resentment aroused
by woman’s changing relation to the world about her, it was because
their opponents did them the honour of believing that they were
responsible for the change. It was a strangely incurious attitude that
permitted such an assumption to be held; for it really takes a very
feeble exercise of intelligence to perceive that a handful of feminist
agitators could hardly coax millions of women into industry—under
conditions often extremely disadvantageous—into business, the
schools and the professions. I believe the cause of this
incuriousness lay in the very fear aroused by these changes and the
social revaluations which they implied; fear for a relation between the
sexes which, having been established for so long, seemed the only
reasonable, or indeed possible, relation. Filled as they were with this
fear of change, which is one of the strongest human emotions, the
opponents of woman’s emancipation were incapable of objectivity.
Their intellectual curiosity was paralyzed. This accounts, perhaps, for
the utterances of two such eminent philosophers as Schopenhauer
and Nietzsche. They came to the subject strongly prejudiced: the
idea of any claims on behalf of women filled them with disgust;
therefore, as one may take a certain malicious pleasure in observing,
their thought on the subject was hampered by that “weakness of the
reasoning faculty” which Schopenhauer found characteristic of
women. If, when discussing woman, they had not been as “childish,
frivolous and short-sighted” as they believed women to be, they
might, along with lesser minds, have arrived at some understanding
of a subject which has always been thought much more mysterious
and baffling than it really is. The woman of their day may have been
the poor creature they pronounced her to be, but if she was, the
obvious question was, Why? Was she a poor creature by nature, or
because of centuries of adaptation to a certain kind of life? This
question neither Schopenhauer nor Nietzsche took the trouble to
ask. They weighed her as she was—or as they thought she was—
and arrived at the sage conclusion that the West had much to learn
from the Orient concerning the proper attitude toward her.

It would be a very desirable thing [says Schopenhauer] if this

Number Two of the human race were in Europe also relegated
 to their natural place [which he conceives to be the harem of a
polygamous household] and an end put to this lady-nuisance,
which not only moves all Asia to laughter but would have been
ridiculed by Greece and Rome as well.

Nietzsche, in the same vein, remarks that

a man who has depth of spirit as well as of desires, and has

also the depth of benevolence which is capable of severity and
harshness, and easily confounded with them, can only think of
woman as Orientals do: he must conceive of her as a
possession, as confinable property, as a being predestined for
service and accomplishing her mission therein.

Such a view of the “weaker sex” of course proves nothing about

women, but it proves a good deal about the effect that their
subjection has had on the minds of men. It is a significant fact that
both Schopenhauer and Nietzsche were Germans, and that in their
day the status of women was lower in Germany than in any other
important country of the Western World, except Italy.
The corruption of both sexes that results from the subjection of one,
has been too convincingly dealt with by other writers to need
discussion here. What I should like to emphasize is the futility of
approaching the so-called “woman question” with any sort of pre-
conceived notion concerning the nature of woman, or her sphere, or
her duty to the State or to Society; and above all, of approaching it
with the idea—the idea that obsesses all reformers—that she is a
more or less passive creature about whom something either ought or
ought not to be done, or, for that matter, about whom something can
be done. What she should and can do for herself is a different
matter; and to that question I intend to address myself before I leave
this subject.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] For a most enlightening treatment of the genesis and nature of
the State, I refer my readers to Franz Oppenheimer’s short treatise
on the subject (“The State,” B. W. Huebsch, Inc., New York). It is
sufficient here to define it as an organization primarily designed to
perpetuate the division of Society into an owning and exploiting class
and a landless, exploited class. In its genesis it is an organization of
a conquering group, by means of which that group maintains its
economic exploitation of those subjugated. In its later stages, when
the conquering class has become merely an owning class, the State
is an organization controlled by this class through its control of
wealth, for the purpose of protecting ownership against the
propertyless classes and facilitating their exploitation by the owning
class. The State is thus the natural enemy of all its citizens except
those of the owning class.
[2] I shall take up this question later; but I might remark that this point
is well illustrated by a suit recently brought in the State of New York.
The former wife of a wealthy man, whom he had divorced twenty
years before, brought action against him for separation and
maintenance. When asked why she had waited twenty years before
questioning the validity of the divorce and her husband’s subsequent
remarriage, her lawyer stated that she had never been in need of
money before, but that she had been swindled out of the money
settled upon her by her husband at the time of the divorce. The
italics are mine; and no comment, I think, is needed.
 CHAPTER II
WOMAN’S STATUS, PAST AND PRESENT

I
Woman tends to assume a position of equality with man only where
the idea of property in human beings has not yet arisen or where it
has disappeared: that is to say, only in extremely primitive or highly
civilized communities. In all the intermediate stages of civilization,
woman is in some degree regarded as a purchasable commodity.
Her status varies widely among different peoples: there are primitive
tribes where she holds a position of comparative independence; and
there are civilized peoples, on the other hand, among whom she is
virtually a slave. But always there is present the idea of
subordination to a male owner, husband, father or brother, even
though it may survive only in ceremonial observances, e.g., in the
ritual practice of “giving in marriage,” or in certain legal disabilities,
such, for instance, as the law entitling a man to his wife’s services
without remuneration.
The subjection of women, then, bears a close intrinsic resemblance
to both chattel slavery and industrial slavery, in that its basis is
economic. As soon as civilization advances to the point of a
rudimentary organization of agriculture and industry, woman
becomes valuable as a labour-motor and a potential producer of
children who will become labour-motors and fighters. Her economic
value, or chattel-value, then, is a commodity for which her family
may demand payment; and hence, apparently, arises the custom of
exacting a bride-price from the man who wishes to marry her. Once
established, this custom of barter in marriage strikes root so deeply
that the woman who has brought no bride-price is often regarded
with scorn and her children considered illegitimate; and the idea of
male ownership that accompanies it becomes so pronounced that it