Omega Awakening Bundle

by Aiden Bates

  “I’ll do better,” Jason promised. “I’ll try. I’ll let you try. We’ll try together.”

  He wonders if Luke could hear him. Some omegas do remember what they hear while dozing; others don’t. He should have asked Aramis before they’d come. He should have asked Aramis many things, and Luke many more.

  But now – and Jason almost smiles to think of it – now there would be time to ask later.

  “I wish I knew why you’d chosen me,” Jason said wistfully. “There were so many better choices. I don’t know if I could be what you need, Luke. I’ve been doing a fairly poor job up until now.”

  Luke yawns.

  “I’ll take that as a reprimand,” Jason murmurs. Against all probability he found himself smiling, and he gives in to the impulse to drop a kiss in Luke’s hair. “I’ll do better,” he said again. “I’ll do right for you, Luke, I promise.”

  There was more to say, but it could wait until Luke was coherent again. The important part’s already been said.

  Luke seemed to agree. He yawns again. Then he burrows impossibly deeper in Jason’s arms and seemed to drop into a deeper doze.

  Jason was still smiling. “Sleep now, beloved,” he whispers. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

  “What do I need to do to make this last forever?” he asked wistfully. There was an air about the question, like it was supposed to be teasing, but if that was true then Luke misses the mark. It was impossible to mistake Luke’s meaning for anything but the genuine, serious, longing question it was.

  Nothing, was Jason’s immediate response. This time he bites down on the word before it could leave its mouth. He could predict, this time, how Luke would take it: as a rejection. Nothing you could do would be enough, was what Luke would hear. Jason had grown so used to Aramis and Porthos, who know his ways, that he had finding himself completely at sea when it comes to talking to Luke. Jason’s preferred single-word answers don’t work for Luke.

  Jason manages to stop himself from saying the wrong thing, but that didn’t magically give him the right words to use. He fumbles after them as quickly as he could. Not quickly enough. Luke took Jason’s silence as its own answer and smiles wryly, turning his gaze away and back to the stars.

  “You’re right, of course,” Luke said, as if Jason had said something aloud. “I suppose I couldn’t change that much.”

  In Paris, Luke never shows this kind of emotion. He could take a loss on the practice yards with a smile, a hit in a tavern fight with a witty comeback, or the Jason disregard of the nobility with a cool air of detachment. But it must all be a front. During heat, Luke couldn’t hide himself.

  Jason reaches down and turns Luke’s face back towards his. “You needn’t change a thing,” he said clumsily. Jason cups Luke’s cheek in his hands and wills Luke to see his sincerity. “Firstly because you were complete as yourself, and any Alpha who would demand that you change was unworthy of your attention. And secondly because – because – ”

  “Because?” Luke asked. He reaches up to cover Jason’s hands with his own, holding them in place, holding his breath.

  “Because I think you were perfect the way you were.” The words were hard to speak, but as they leave Jason’s mouth it was like they tear something open in him and everything comes tumbling out. “Because I like everything about you, even what you think were rough edges. I like your scent, I like the way you talk, I like your country manners. I like that you’re different. I like that you have a new way of looking at things, that you’re not biased the same ways we all were from years of Musketeering. I like that you work so hard at everything you do.”

  Luke blushes bright red. “Jason,” he whispers, awed. “What were you saying?”

  “I’ve been pushing you away,” Jason admits. “I’ve been afraid. Luke, you’re so young. You could have so many others. I know I was the first Alpha you met when you came to Paris, but I thought that once you met others, you’d wake up and realize that your interest in me was a passing phase. I thought – ”

  “You thought wrong,” Luke interrupts. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, and since his head had been in Jason’s lap he ends up pretty much sitting in it, arms winding around Jason’s body to keep himself upright, noses practically brushing. “I’m not some country hick who had their head turned by the bright lights of the city! I know what I want.”

  “Someone who’s never seen a jewel may admire the first rock they see, but they soon realize that a diamond was better than a crystal,” Jason said ruefully. “I’m not exactly a prize.”

  “I’ll thump whoever told you that,” Luke said in that direct straightforward way of his. “Why won’t you see your own value?”

  “I’m old – ”

  “Experienced,” Luke interrupts.

  Jason raises an eyebrow. “Scarred.”

  Luke traces one pale line down Jason’s chest, a souvenir from La Rochelle, a decade old now. “Brave.”

  “Damaged.”

  “Strong.” Luke shook his head. “I know there were things in your past that you wish you could forget. I know you made mistakes and people died. But that didn’t make you broken. Am I broken?”

  “Of course not,” Jason said fiercely.

  Luke spreads his arms wide. “I was born an omega and my parents died,” he said steadily.

  “That was not the same thing. You were a pup. It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I went into heat. That was old enough to inherit under the old laws, isn’t it? Besides, what about my parents? They were grown. Should I blame them? Say they should have left when I was born, or turned me over to the Church to save themselves, or had me sterilized?”

  “I had responsibilities,” Jason tried to explain. “And I failed at them. My mate and odem died.”

  Luke nods. “So did my parents,” he said gently. “But I survived. I’m here, and I’m alive, and I’m going to keep on living. Don’t you think it was about time you started doing the same?”

  Jason gives in to the urge to reach out and touch. Luke smiles at the feel of Jason’s fingers on his cheek and turns into Jason’s hand, nuzzling the scarred palm fondly.

  “I want you,” Luke said, enunciating each word carefully so there could be no mistake. “I’m not a pup. I’m not fresh from the countryside. I’m not even a novice anymore. I’m grown, and I’m a Musketeer, and I know what I want.”

  “Then I offer myself as one who hopes to be worthy of your interest, and ask your indulgence to prove my worth in courtship,” Jason said.

  Luke’s cheeks turn pink. “I would be honored,” he said. There was a moment where his accent wavers slightly, changing from Luke’s usual Gascon cadence to a mimicry of Aramis’ more refined one, and they both laugh a little.

  “Don’t,” Luke said. Begs. “Jason, please don’t. I know you’re upset, I know you’re hurt. You have every right to be. Especially after – what you said, earlier – please believe me, I had no idea that you’d ever feel that way about me. And I know that this changes everything. You don’t have to court me. You don’t have to do anything. I didn’t do this to try to trap you.”

  Jason wanted to pace. But that would mean getting up, and he wanted to pace less than he needed to be near Luke right now. He also wanted to scream. He oughtn’t to do that, either. It leaves him with no good way to let off the emotions bubbling under his skin.

  “Jason – ”

  Jason holds up a hand. “Just tell me something,” he said, keeping himself under control with an effort. “Did you really think I wouldn’t care?”

  Luke sets his jaw mulishly. “I thought you’d care,” he said. “About the pups, of course I thought you’d care. But I won’t be reduced to my fertility. And I had no idea you might actually – well.” He shrugs a little, awkward and ashamed.

  In the firelight Luke flickers through a thousand faces at once. The youth he’d been on his first day in Paris, scared and alone and determined. The trial n
ovice, scared and determined and ready to risk everything. The novice, worried about his place in the pack, hardworking and tenacious and stubborn. The barely-fledged Musketeer, unsure and dismayed by Jason’s reserve. The terrified omega, facing down too-strong heats, a scent that reaches for miles, and no access to the medicine that might help him.

  Jason’s own anger slipped away in the face of Luke’s fear. In every memory, behind every mask, Luke was scared. So many things have changed about him since he’d first set foot in Paris. But not the fear. The fear remains.

  And Jason couldn’t erase Luke’s fear. No one could do that except Luke himself. But Jason could do something else, something Luke won’t accept from anyone else. He could help shoulder it. He could take half of it onto his own shoulders. Jason could promise to stand by Luke’s side, and face Luke’s problems alongside him, and give and receive shelter in turn until they both come through into safe harbor.

  “Ask me,” Jason said. There was something reckless in the air between them, something that crackles like thunder. Jason felt brave and daring and eager. He felt young, too. He felt different. He felt renewed. He felt as if all his chances were in front of him still, as if his choices have all come back around to be made again, different, better, stronger.

  “Do you care for me?” Luke demands.

  “Yes,” Jason said without hesitation.

  “Even without the pups?” His gaze drops, skittering away.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to be with me?”

  “Always.”

  “Do you want to build a future with me?”

  “Forever.”

  Luke looked up. Their gazes catch and hold, desire between them, the fire beside them, the possibilities unfolding before them and stretching off into the horizon.

  “Then come on a journey with me,” Luke said. It was not a question.

  “I would,” Jason answers regardless.

  There was a moment of sheer, fierce joy that crackles in the air like lightning. Then Luke was in Jason’s arms, or perhaps Jason was in Luke’s, and their lips were on each other’s, and if either of them needed to breathe they no longer remember it.

  Jason drops to his knees, then leaned over Luke. “Tilt your head,” he murmurs. “And take a deep breath.”

  Luke obeys. “I love you,” he said.

  “And I you,” Jason promised. He hesitates one final moment, hovering over Luke’s bared neck, watching the play of firelight over the creamy skin. No one on earth would ever see this sight again.

  Then he bites down.

  His senses contract, focused on the moment of connection. Then, when Luke’s blood hit his tongue, they explode outward in a kaleidoscope of sensation. It was like the pounding of adrenaline after a fight. Like the animal satisfaction of a warm bath or a good meal. Like the pleasant, safe blur of a bottle of Spanish wine and a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Luke cries out. He arches beneath Jason, deliberately or instinctively shoving his shoulder deeper into Jason’s mouth. Jason growls without conscious intent. It reverberates through the forest, a primal cry: he was mine, I am his, and God have mercy on they who dare try to tear us asunder.

  Jason’s jaw unlocks. He releases Luke’s shoulder as gently as possible. Instinct drives him to lick the pinprick wounds. They close almost instantly under his tongue, leaving behind dark marks that look like they’ve been there forever. They were like old scars in the firelight. Like brands.

  Luke’s eyes were shining wet. He reaches up to touch the marks as soon as Jason withdraws slightly. At the first touch of Luke’s fingers to his shoulder, the tears in his eyes spill over.

  “Oh, beloved,” Jason said, genuinely distressed. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m not sad,” Luke answers, smiling through his tears. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  Jason frowns in distress. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. The place where Michael had lived, next to his heart, was still empty. It was just as Michael had left it. Was something wrong with Jason?

  “Shh,” Luke said. He pressed his fingers to Jason’s chest. “Not there. Here.”

  And suddenly Jason felt it: a joy so intense it was almost weightless. Luke’s joy. It was not in the same place within Jason’s heart that Michael’s bond had lived. Michael’s grave was undisturbed, peaceful, a tribute to the mate he’d failed and the young Alpha lord who had loved him, lost him, and died with him in spirit. Jason’s bond with Luke rests next to it, an addition, not a replacement. And the place it resides was new. It belongs to Luke alone, and in that place there were no bad memories.

  “There,” Luke whispers. “Do you feel me?”

  Jason buries his face in Luke’s neck again and breathed deep. Luke smells of love and life and passion and the pups he might even now carry. Best of all was the way the scent was already changing. It was adding elements of Jason’s scent and losing the rough mongrel edge. Mellowing. Now that Luke had found a mate, he needn’t smell so strongly. He’ll be safer. It was the least of the ways Jason plans to protect him.

  “I feel you,” Jason whispers.

  “And I feel you,” Luke said. He smiles.

  “I love you,” Jason added. He does. And he would do everything for Luke that flesh could do. He only hopes –

  “I’ll never regret this,” Luke said shrewdly.

  “I’ll make sure of it,” Jason swears, tugging his companion – his mate – close to him.

  They drift off to sleep together, surrounded by the warm night, warmer skin, and the dreams they’re sharing between them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  They ride back to Paris at a leisurely pace. Luke chatters steadily, talking of everything and nothing. Jason learns more about Gascon farming techniques than he’d ever wanted to know. And more about the various personalities that had inhabited Lupiac than he had glad to learn. In the silences between Luke’s speeches, Jason entertains fantasies of going to Lupiac and teaching certain townsfolk object lessons. Impossible, but it makes him feel better.

  Luke didn’t seem to mind that Jason was silent far more than he talks, and that Luke must tell ten stories to Jason’s one. Luke treats every piece of information Jason shares about his own past with reverence. The smiles he gives Jason tell Jason Luke understands how hard it was for Jason to share even this much.

  “Luke’s been after you since the moment he set foot in the garrison,” Treville interrupts, cutting Jason off without raising his own voice. “So perhaps we could consider the last eleven months to be an extended courtship.”

  “I didn’t go out intending to mate with Luke or sire pups on him,” Jason said, choosing his words carefully. “I went out because he needed me. And it served as a wake-up call to me. Eleven months isn’t a crush. I’ve been doing a better job hurting Luke by staying away from him than I could possibly do by courting him. I told him as much, and he agreed to consider my suit.”

  “Glad to hear you finally realized it.”

  “If you tell me this was about the pups, so help me God – ”

  “It was not,” Jason interrupts. “Not only. I love him. And he needed me.”

  “He loves you in addition to needing you. You know that, right?”

  “I’ve always known that,” Jason finally admits. “I just couldn’t face it.”

  “What made you face it now?”

  He has no answer. It’s not the pups. He knows; it’s not the pups. Luke has always been more to him than the thing he could do for him. No answer in this time, but somehow, he knows, in another time, he will have the words for this.

  “I’ll let you know,” he promises. Someday.

  Someday, he would have the answer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He needs to stop dreaming.

  Luke tried to follow Jason’s advice; he did. He tried to go back to sleep. Jason’s right, of course, he was worn out. He’d been drunk. And he’d, what they’d done…he’d never experienced so much sensation, ever in his life
. He knew, in some part of himself, that he was exhausted in a bone-deep, weary way, but he found he couldn’t possibly fall back asleep.

  For as exhausted as he was, he was also exhilarated.

  Every time he shut his eyes and tried to clear his mind and wait for sleep to come, his thoughts were flooded with memories of Jason’s hands against him, the glow of Jason’s body in the light of the candles. Memories of Jason’s soft, hot mouth under his own, Jason’s thighs gripping him, Jason’s lips tracing the tendon in his throat—the feeling of Jason’s cock beneath his hand. The sensations were too numerous for him to count, he wanted to go over every one in his mind, relive every moment, obsessively catalogue each press, each touch of Jason’s body against his—how he looked, how he tasted in every moment, the slid of his hands, the hitch of his breath, the way his mouth curled up at the corner as he looked at Luke—so that he couldn’t possibly forget a single one of them.

  They were so numerous, each so delightful in turn that Luke found it had only been minutes since Jason left and already he was hard again, slick with wanting, a deep ache in the center of his belly as he thought about everything that had passed between them.

  Jason had given Luke a new appreciation for his body, had made him aware of a capacity for pleasure that he never knew he had. Yes, of course Luke had experienced pleasure at his own hand, but it never, never felt the way it did with Jason. With Jason, every touch, every look was loaded with meaning.

  And even in Jason’s absence, the feeling remained. His skin felt thin—translucent even, humming with the memory of Jason’s touch. His body felt so new to him, felt different, full of possibility. He never knew he was capable of so much feeling.

  Luke shifted under the sheets, slid his hand down over his own hip—remembered how Jason’s eyes widened when he performed the same gesture, how his breathing changed. Luke licked his lips and sighed at the memory, clenching his hand into a fist against his thigh to stop its movement.