by Grey, Aspen
“Grab a beer?” I asked Clyde as we locked up.
“Nah. Got myself a date,” he grinned. Clyde was a decent-looking beta who batted way above his average, especially online, and always seemed to have something lined up as far as “romance” was concerned.
“You’re always up to something, aren’t you, Clyde?”
He shrugged like a mischievous boy. “What can I say?”
I chuckled as I hitched the taco truck to my pickup truck and waved as I got in the driver’s side and pulled away. It was a short drive to my house, and as I pulled in and looked up at the dark window of my apartment, I knew that even if Clyde wasn’t going to accompany me, I needed to go out and wind down before heading upstairs.
The White Swallow, I thought as I parked the truck and got out. It was only a ten-minute walk away, at most, so I headed out, my mind spinning with thoughts of new taco recipes, visions of my future and dreams of love.
“You’re not gonna find it here,” I muttered to myself as the bar came into view. From the looks of things, it was really hopping inside, but as I grew closer and picked up the scents from within, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a very successful night in terms of finding love.
The place was swimming with alphas, and by the sounds from within, they were celebrating something. Probably a birthday party, or maybe a game was on, or maybe a bachelor party. Either way, the only omegas inside would be either taken, or so swarmed with attention that it would be a pissing contest over who would get to take them home, and I wasn’t interested in that.
“Oh, well,” I shrugged as I stepped past the bored-looking security alpha and made my way inside. “Have a beer and head home I guess.”
I made my way to the bar, where an old alpha was waiting. He nodded.
“Hey there, young snapper,” he said like some character out of an old Western film. “What can I do ya for?”
“Just a beer,” I told him.
“What kinda beer?”
“Whatever you think’s good and doesn’t cost more than a bad date.”
“Gotcha,” he smiled. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get the boy to bring one out for you?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied. I turned and gestured to the gaggle of grinning alphas all drunk and laughing around a table at the center of the room. “What’s all this?”
“Bachelor party.”
I nodded. “I figured.”
As I took a seat at a high-top in the corner of the room and waited for my beer, I watched the wild crew and wondered what it would be like to be one of them, wild and carefree, filled with lust for any omega with a nice ass. It was probably a pretty easy existence, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted meaning. Commitment. Someone I could rely on and share my life with.
“Relax, Sid,” I grumbled as the door to the back opened. “It’s a fucking bar. You’re not gonna find that here.”
But then, something unexpected happened. No, something practically impossible happened. As my eyes spied who must have been “the boy” the old man had referred to, coming out from the back with my beer on a tray, I caught his scent like I’d caught a fly ball into the outfield.
It cut through the rest of the smells of the bar like a snake slithering through the tall grass, straight into my nostrils with the force of a heavyweight boxer’s punch.
Warm banana cream…
The scent instantly tantalized me, gripped me and set my senses on fire. I felt my dick start to harden, but also my heart begin to soar as though I’d just met a long lost friend who I hadn’t seen in years.
The world seemed to brighten, the colors suddenly beginning to pop, and everything seemed to slow down as the beautiful boy walked towards me, his messy blond hair splayed out at all angles like straw blowing in the wind, and his bright blue eyes practically glowing beneath the dim lights of the bar.
As his eyes landed on me, he stopped dead in his tracks, his nose working overtime as he picked up my scent. I felt an explosion of something inside of me—hope.
Could it be? I thought desperately. Have I found my fated-mate?
Chapter Three
Arthur
My eyes scouted the horde of protestors on the other side of the ropes as we exited the venue. I’d been hired as security by Mrs. Wendy Addington for her appearance at tonight’s charity event in downtown San Diego. It seemed odd that there would be protestors or any suspicions of violence at a charity event, but Wendy, being a high-profile socialite in San Diego and Los Angeles, had been spotted wearing fur, someone had taken a photo and the blogs had gone crazy. As she stepped out behind me, the protestors went wild.
“Boooo!” they began to jeer.
“Fur is murder!”
“Animal killer!”
“Terrorist!”
“Stay behind me,” I whispered to her, taking the lead down the red carpet where her SUV was waiting. We could have gone out the back, of course, but as they say—all publicity is good publicity, so she’d insisted we go out the front where we’d come in.
“It wasn’t even real fur!” she hissed under her breath.
“I doubt they’ll believe you,” I replied.
Someone threw something, and I caught it out of the corner of my eye and managed to swat it away before it hit Wendy. A tomato, rotten and disgusting splattered against the pavement.
“Almost there,” I told her as I ushered her towards the SUV where one of the venue’s security had the door open for her.
“Thank God—” she started to say, but before she could finish, the group to my left exploded and three men came rushing towards us.
“Take her!” I shouted to the other security as I spun to face the attackers.
The first one was frantic, flailing wildly like an amateur boxer. I sidestepped him and drove a fist into his chin, knocking him out cold and sending him sprawling. His buddy behind him tripped as their legs tangled up, and fell right into my left elbow. He groaned and landed hard, leaving just one more of the overzealous bastards to face off with me.
I heard the SUV door slam shut, letting me know that Wendy was safe, and stood there with my eyes fixed on the remaining protestor. He was small, too small to be trying to fuck with me, and he knew it. And with both of his buddies down, his backup, his dick had shriveled up and his balls had probably retreated up inside of him.
“Walk away,” I told him, giving him a break he didn’t deserve. He thanked me with his eyes, turned tail and ran, straight into the arms of the venue’s security.
I nodded to them, got into the SUV and slid up beside Wendy, who was trembling. I motioned to the driver. “Let’s go.”
He pulled away and I put my hand on Wendy’s and held it firm.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “You’re fine. Just a few idiots.”
“I—I thought I was being silly hiring security for an event like this,” she muttered.
“You can never be too safe,” I told her as we pulled away and headed towards her home in Del Mar.
“Thank you, Arthur,” she said as I handed her a ginger ale and cracked it open.
Working private security was a far cry from my job as a Navy SEAL, but it paid better and the hours were a lot more conducive to having a “normal” life.
My father was in the Navy, killed in combat in Afghanistan, which had filled me with a sense of duty and determination that had led to me enlisting as well. I’d become a SEAL and served my country, but never saw the same kind of action my father did. In a way I was glad, but in another way I felt as though I’d never really fulfilled my duty, never really measured up to the kind of man that he was.
I’d realized the service just wasn’t for me. I wanted to protect people, that much was for sure, but I wanted to see the eyes of the people I protected. I wanted something more personal, so when I got out, I got into private security.
Like Nathan Fillion in “Castle,” I was ruggedly handsome, tall and tan with dirty blond hair and the physique you’
d expect from someone who’d done PT (physical training) for the last nine years of his life. The tattoo on my chest, “Loyalty,” spoke volumes on my personality; there was nothing more important than loyalty to me, and I made sure anyone who got close to me knew that.
“Let me give you a little something extra,” Wendy said as the car slowed out front of her house. She didn’t mean sex, of course—she knew what kind of guy I was. “I have my checkbook inside—”
“Don’t be silly, Wendy,” I told her. “I’m just doing my job like I always do. Tonight just happened to be a little crazier than normal.”
Wendy looked at me like no one had ever been kinder to her in her entire life. It was part of the shock and relief of what had happened to her, of course. She’d get over it, and I knew she had her family inside to support her and help her handle all the emotions running through her. Taking her money would have been taking advantage of her—not something a real man does.
“You’re the best, Arthur,” she told me, kissing my cheek.
“Think nothing of it,” I replied, throwing her a big goofy grin.
She smiled back, took a deep breath to gather herself, and I got out of the car and opened her door for her. I walked her up the walkway to her house, wondering if one day I’d ever be able to afford such a place. She gave me a hug, thanked me again before going inside. I headed back to the car and nodded to Pedro, the driver.
“Ready to roll, buddy.”
He simply nodded as he pulled away and headed back towards my apartment in Pacific Beach. It felt good, working for others and making sure they were safe. But there was still one thing that was missing in that regard; a family.
I wanted a family to keep safe, to protect and to nurture. I wanted a mate and children to watch over. With my dad gone, and my mother living alone in La Mesa, I wanted to expand her life and mine so we’d have something to cherish as we moved forward, but my current boyfriend, Carlito, didn’t share my vision.
At twenty-three, he was four years younger than me and still in the “fun” mode like so many younger guys in Pacific Beach. He’d played me a little, making me think that he was open to something more serious with me, but then playing the “I’m not sure I’m ready yet” card. I think both of us saw the end coming but neither of us was ready to say anything.
The apartment door was unlocked when I got home, which set off my two competing internal alarms—the first being to reach for my legal concealed carry, and the second being to shift into my panther form. But seeing as how I was wearing my nice leather jacket, I opted for the first option, and with my hand on my hip, I stepped into my apartment. When I saw what was going on, my heart sank.
Carlito, my fun-loving boyfriend, was on his hands and knees in the middle of the living room, taking it from behind from—not even an alpha—but a scrubby-looking beta with long hair that looked as though it hadn’t been washed in a month.
“God-fucking-damn,” I grimaced, moving to the window as the both of them panicked and scrambled over each other to get covered. The beta stank and I wondered how in the world Carlito could have even managed to hook up with him in the first place.
“Arthur!” he blurted out. “I—I thought you weren’t going to be home—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I replied as I cracked the window to let out some of the stranger’s stench. “I want him, and you, gone by the time I get back.”
“Where are you going?” Carlito asked as I stepped back outside.
“What do you care?”
Of course he cheated on you, I thought as I walked quickly through the brisk February evening. The White Swallow, there was a good place to blow off steam and get lost in the show of nonsense that would certainly be going on.
I wasn’t even angry as I walked, passing the nighttime beach crowd. I really should have seen it coming. Carlito wasn’t the commitment type, that was more than obvious now, and was still in that youthful mentality that more was better. Of course, anyone with any amount of brains would know that quality over quantity is better, but if Carlito wanted to be passed around by half of Pacific Beach, that was up to him. He’d learn eventually.
Chapter Four
Ollie
“Back into the thick of things,” I said to myself as I prepared to reenter the front of house with my single beer delivery. The smell of the frat party of alphas was simply overpowering and I wished I could just go home (aka upstairs) and avoid having to go out there again altogether, but I had a job to do and I owed it to Rusty. Instead, I did the next best thing.
It was an old trick I’d learned from an old friend. I found a handkerchief, wet it, then doused it with some of the peppermint soap we kept in the employee bathroom. I twisted it, causing the scent of peppermint to spill out everywhere. As I tied the handkerchief around my neck, it was all I could smell, and would serve as a barrier against the alpha scents out there looking to assault my senses like an invading army.
Good enough, I thought as I grabbed a random IPA from the wall and placed it on my tray. Rusty hadn’t specified what the guy had ordered, so I made the decision for him.
“Hope you like hipster beer,” I said to myself as I pushed the door open and stepped back into the front of house.
It was loud, sweaty and obnoxious, but my handkerchief was doing the trick. As I made my way through the throng, the alpha scents were simply a low murmur among the deafening symphony of peppermint.
Almost as good as pheromone blockers, I thought as I envisioned myself misting the entire room with a bottle just to keep my nose happy.
One of the frat boys bumped me on his way to the bathroom.
“Watch it, sweet cheeks,” he laughed as he passed.
“Idiot…”
I pushed through the bodies, keeping my nose low and full of peppermint, when I spotted what must have been my customer on the other end of the bar. He was sitting by himself and clearly not a drunken idiot, but it was hard to get a good look at him from where I was, so I continued to try and weave my way through the crowd when I felt a rough hand on my ass, followed by a hard pinch.
“Ow!” I yelped, spinning around without dropping the beer. I found myself staring into the drunken, thin eyes of what looked like one of the more alpha alphas of the group. He licked his chapped lips and grinned.
“What’s a fine piece of ass like you doing working in a place like this?”
Really? How old is that line?
“Oh, you know. Doing what everybody in the world has to do. Earning a living?”
“A looker like you?” he scoffed. “Nobody’s taking care of you? If you belonged to me—”
“I don’t belong to anybody,” I snapped back. “Especially not a fuckboy like you!”
“Oooooh!” a cacophony of laughter and jeers came from the rest of his group, but he only stared and continued to smile.
“Fuckboy, eh?” he contemplated. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a fuck—boy!”
He reached forward and wrapped an arm around my waist and began to pull me towards him.
“No!” I screamed, swatting him against the chest with my free hand, causing me to drop the beer to the floor. I felt it splash all over our feet. “Get off me!”
“You fucked up my shoes,” the alpha growled, suddenly much more threatening. “Now you owe me.”
“Owe you? My ass!”
“What do you expect walking around with that tight little dumper of yours?”
“Tight little dumper?” I repeated, horrified as the alpha grinned at me like Dane Cook on crack. “Get off of me! Rusty!” I shouted, but it wasn’t Rusty who came to my aid.
A fist shot out of nowhere and blunted the front corner of the alpha’s jaw, wiping the grin right off his face and spinning him around like a top. His legs went limp and he crashed down among the feet of his friends.
I spun around to see myself staring into the face of the most gorgeous alpha I’d ever seen in my entire life.
His skin was pale, but powerfully so, as tho
ugh his body was in pristine condition like he’d emerged from a pure block of marble. His dark hair seemed to indicate his alpha, panther identity as though his human form was the mask he wore on a day-to-day basis. There was a kindness to him that simply oozed out of him, but his eyes held me in place like a tractor beam out of Star Trek.
“Are you okay?” he asked, but before I could answer, two of the fallen alpha’s friends leapt onto him and knocked him away from me, causing me to stumble backwards and trip over one of the high-tops. I fell to the floor in time to see Rusty shift, tear out of his clothes and leap into the midst of things.
He may have been old, but his coat was thick and healthy, flecked and salted with tiny patches of gray like old fire, and when he raised his head and roared, everything stopped.
The beautiful alpha who’d come to my aid shook one of the fuckboys off of him and stared at Rusty with an obvious respect. Although Rusty was shifted and could not speak, the implication of his action was clear: get out, or I’ll make you get out.
The alpha’s eyes flickered from Rusty to me and then back to Rusty, who was tense with his teeth bared and ready for action. The fuckboys backed off, obviously, but the alpha didn’t move. Again, he glanced over Rusty’s shoulder at me, I guess to make sure that I was all right, and I felt myself swoon like a teenager.
He’s gorgeous!
When his eyes left mine and returned to Rusty, I felt a sense of loss, like a child who’d just lost his most prized possession. I felt my cock move inside my pants and wanted to scream out to him to stay, but even if I could have found breath in my lungs to do so, it would have been wrong. This was Rusty’s bar and Rusty’s rules.
Slowly, the alpha turned and made his way from the bar. At the door, he stopped and turned around again, but Rusty was right behind him.