by A. J. Stone
Shocked that Lajos would consider robbing Gliding Principles of valuable research and their top scientific mind, Zeke took his time thinking through a response. “It would solve your personal problem, but I can’t take the chance that the rest of the Ice-Breathers would be on board with losing Anshu from their tribe.”
“You’d be surprised.” Lajos grimaced. “We have the only omega dragon in existence, and nobody here wants anything to do with him. Having him here is distressing for all Ice-Breathers.” Sitting forward, Lajos pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel like an ass for suggesting it—because it does simplify my life—but the fact remains that Anshu is unhappy here. He’s a good man. He deserves to be happy.”
Zeke thought about what it was like to be rejected by someone who should want him, and he felt boundless sympathy for the unwanted omega.
“I’ll take him,” Zeke said. “If he’s willing, I’ll take him back to Verdance with me.”
Chapter 6
Marcel
“IF I GOT RID OF THE dining room furniture, it would make a great practice space.” Marcel tapped his finger on his lower lip as he thought aloud. Right now, he was desperate for anything that would take his mind off a rather large problem that had cropped up after Zeke’s one and only visit.
Holden came in from the kitchen, a damp dish towel thrown over one shoulder. In exchange for the second bedroom, Holden had offered to take care of the cooking and cleaning. While he was a good cook, his cleaning habits were not up to Marcel’s standards, and so when Holden was at dance practice, Marcel cleaned whatever he could get to.
In the month since his accident, his ankle had almost healed. He no longer needed crutches, but he found if he stayed on it too long, then it swelled up. Physical therapy was scheduled to begin in the next week. His arm was still in a cast, but even that was almost completely healed.
Hands on hips, Holden surveyed the area. “If you push your recovery, you could permanently damage your ankle, and then you’ll never dance again.” He looked over at Marcel. “Of course, with the way you’ve pudged out, it’s going to take even longer to get back in shape, so maybe you should be doing some exercises.”
In the past month, Marcel had not only continued eating as if he was burning off vast amounts of calories dancing each day, but he’d stepped up his game. He had cravings for things like sweet potato mash smothered in cinnamon and butter. A smokehouse grill two streets over sold it by the quart, and a $2000 stipend could buy a lot of mash.
He refrained from putting his hand on the growing bump on his abdomen. It seemed as if Zeke Lowry had left him with more than a fond memory and a yearning for more.
“I wouldn’t push it, but I could do stretches and strength training.” Marcel had no plans to rush his recovery. Though he was anxious to get back into the dance studio, he kept the bigger picture in mind. Holden was correct in his caution.
Not only that, but now he had to figure out how in the fucking world he was going to balance having a baby with launching himself into stardom. When he’d first realized he was pregnant, he’d wanted to hand the child over to Zeke and go his separate way. But the longer the child grew inside him, the more attached he became.
How was it possible to both love and resent someone he had yet to meet? And his emotions were so extreme there was no way he could apply logic to the situation.
Sniffling, he beat back tears that threatened a deluge yet again.
Holden gestured to the space in front of the fireplace. “If you moved the chairs, table, and rug, you could use that space.”
On cold nights, Marcel loved to sit in front of the fire. He did not, however, dine at the formal table. He and Holden either ate in the kitchen or in front of the television. He didn’t want to lose his favorite space. “No, the table needs to go. I just don’t know where to put it.”
“I’m sure if you contact Zeke Lowry, he’d take care of it for you.”
At the mention of the alpha’s name, Marcel closed his eyes against the wave of longing that swept over him. Marcel had not seen or heard from Mr. Lowry since the day he’d told him he’d never be his omega. He missed the dragon shifter every bit as much as he dreaded the prospect of seeing him again.
Though Zeke had heeded his wish to not push for a relationship, Marcel still ran into the sexy shifter in passing. It seemed Zeke had a standing dinner reservation at the Granger residence at least once a week, and he could be found coming and going at other times as well. Whenever Marcel ran into Zeke, he’d nod in acknowledgment and continue on his way. Neither of them uttered a word, and no smoldering looks passed between them.
“I don’t want to bother him.” Understatement of the century. When Zeke found out about the impending baby, nothing would keep him away. Time and circumstance would force Marcel to deal with a situation he didn’t want to face. If this had happened ten or twenty years later, he’d have been fine with it. But right now? The timing couldn’t have been worse. He was going to have to give up everything he’d ever wanted.
He turned away from the unused dining space and sank down on the sofa.
Holden rolled his eyes, and then he returned to the kitchen. Water ran, dishes clanked, and the dishwasher started up.
Marcel stared at the unwanted furniture, thinking about ways to rearrange everything to clear the space. The apartment wasn’t small, but it wasn’t large either. The space had been utilized well, but it hadn’t been designed to include a practice space for a dancer. Underneath the apartment building, there was a parking garage. Was there storage space hiding even deeper underground?
And how was he going to tell Holden the reason he had to move out was because the second bedroom needed to be turned into a nursery? Holden wasn’t a shifter, so this news was outside his realm of possibilities.
His thoughts were interrupted by something landing on his lap. Holden stood next to him, and Marcel looked down to find his phone sliding toward his crotch. The light blinked to indicate a notification. He unlocked it to find a message from Zeke. That’s how he’d put his name into Marcel’s phone, and the omega hadn’t changed a thing.
Tag whatever you want gone. I’ll send movers later today.
He scrolled up to find the original message. I want to get rid of some of the furniture. How do I do that?
Marcel scowled. “You texted Mr. Lowry on my phone.”
“Well, I don’t have his number.”
“It was locked. How did you know my passcode?”
“It’s your birthday, not the nuclear codes.” Holden perched on the edge of the coffee table. “Look, I don’t know why you’re so upset. He’s your contact person for the apartment and whatever else you need with regard to the accident.”
Marcel had no intention of explaining why he was upset.
Holden sighed. “You said he wasn’t a jerk.”
“He’s not.” As much as Marcel wanted Mr. Lowry to have negative traits, he couldn’t think of one thing wrong with the handsome alpha.
“Then I don’t see the problem.”
Marcel fell silent.
Shooting to his feet, Holden grabbed his dance bag. Rehearsals were even more intense as opening day approached. “You’re an idiot. That guy is seriously hot. He has money, he seemed like a good guy, and he’s into you. Everyone who saw you two together couldn’t help but be smacked upside the head by the chemistry between you. I don’t understand why you avoid him.”
“If you think he’s so wonderful, you go out with him.” Self-loathing bombarded Marcel as he muttered the comeback. He couldn’t stomach the idea of the father of his child with anyone else. He stifled a howl of objection from his inner canine.
“If I was gay, I would. Believe me—I’d even consider converting if he looked at me with half of the smolder in his eyes as he pointed in your direction. He barely noticed me or anyone else, Marcel. He only had eyes for you.” Holden adjusted the strap on his bag and slipped into his street shoes. Before he left, he glanced over his shoulder. �
�Look, he said he was sending movers, okay? So you won’t see him today either, not unless you want to.”
The door closed behind Holden, and Marcel stared at his hands in his lap. He wanted to see Zeke—Mr. Lowry—with a need that left him weak and trembling. Closing his eyes, he steeled his nerves. This was exactly why he didn’t need to get involved with an alpha. As much as having a child would derail his life, becoming an alpha’s mate would wreak even more havoc with his life. He would cease to be anything except an omega—a househusband and father. His dreams wouldn’t matter anymore—not even to himself.
Even thinking about living with Zeke—sharing his bed and his life—made Marcel begin to make deals and compromises. He’d done the same thing with law school, and look where that had landed him—depressed and in the emergency room because he’d tried to end it all.
He didn’t want to travel that path again.
Rather than stay shut up in the apartment all day, Marcel went outside. The air had a bite to it, and occasional flurries turned somersaults in the downdrafts between buildings. When his hands were frozen through his gloves, he ducked into a coffee shop. As he sat down with a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, his cell rang. The ringtone indicated his father, so he answered.
“Hi, Father. How are you?”
“It’s winter, son. How about you come home?”
“This is my home, Father.” Marcel closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. This wasn’t the first time he’d discussed the issue with his father. Plus, the last thing he needed to do was to tell his father he had been knocked up by a handsome and charming dragon shifter. He tried to steer the conversation into neutral territory. “How are you doing?”
“I’m well. Business is brisk. We had a great third quarter, and this quarter is shaping up to be even better.” Calvin Yardan’s familiar baritone soothed Marcel as much as it put him on edge. “Dad misses you. It’s been a month. At least come home for a visit. We’ll send you money for the fare.”
“I don’t need money.” He hadn’t told his parents about the accident, but he had mentioned the apartment and the stipend. He might have let them assume it was coming from a job in the theater, which was a stupid move. Marcel’s name was not listed in the cast, a fact his fathers wouldn’t fail to notice if they looked up the show online.
If his fathers saw him, they’d immediately know the bump on his abdomen wasn’t because he’d let himself go in the past month. They’d demand to know who was responsible, which was a tricky mess. Neither he nor Zeke had been operating on anything but instinct and primal need.
“Marcel, we worry about you.” Aramond got on the line.
Marcel exhaled hard. If anyone could push his buttons, it was his dad. Of course, now that Marcel was going to be a dad himself, he had a lot of motivation to not cave to his dad’s plea. “Don’t, Dad. I’m fine.”
“I’d feel a lot better if I knew where this stipend was coming from, Marcel.”
Under no circumstances was he going to tell his parents he’d been in an accident. If he did that, both of them would be there, admonishing him for getting hurt, keeping secrets, and not holding out for a much larger settlement.
“Drop it, Dad.”
“Older men prey upon naïve, young men like you.”
Marcel gasped. Aramond had danced around the topic before, but he’d never come right out and accused Marcel of hooking up with a sugar daddy. “Dad, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m living with one of the other dancers. His parents, um, they give him an allowance.”
It wasn’t technically a lie. Holden’s parents did give him money every month, but it wasn’t much, and it wasn’t close to covering the cost of a good-sized apartment in a nice, downtown neighborhood.
“Oh.” Aramond’s tone brightened. “Okay, then. That’s awfully nice of Holden’s parents. You be sure to write a thank-you note, okay? And maybe send a basket of baked goods, unless they’re gluten-free people. Then send fruit or flowers.”
“What about living expenses?” Calvin chimed in. “You need to eat, son.”
“I eat, Father. Don’t worry. I earn income. Maybe I’m not dancing, but I’m not sitting on my ass.” Technically, he spent a lot of time sitting on his ass. Even while doing exercises, he had to avoid putting weight on his ankle. He wanted to yell that if they were so concerned, why hadn’t they offered to help him out in his quest? His parents had plenty of money socked away for his education, but they refused to let him use it toward a career in the theater.
“If you change your mind and want to come home, just call,” Calvin said. “Or if you want to enroll in Verdance School of Law, let us know. Or maybe something else—they have a great engineering program at Verdance University.”
Of course they’d pay for them. If he consented to go back to school to get a degree they approved, they’d also pay for an apartment and food. Marcel wasn’t going to let anyone control his life through the offer of food and shelter.
“I have to go Dad, Father. It was great to hear from you. Love you.” He ended the call before they could say anything else he didn’t want to hear.
Once upon a time, he’d been close with his parents. He missed those days.
Mired in dark thoughts, he nursed his chocolate and savored the whipped cream. When he finished, he headed to the trash bin near the door. By chance, he happened to glance across into the other half of the dining area. Somehow his gaze was drawn immediately to Zeke—Mr. Lowry. He shook his head, banishing the handsome man’s first name from his mind in order to keep the alpha out of mental reach.
The sexy shifter sported a devilishly charming smile, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. He fished an ice cube from his beverage, and Marcel watched it disappear between those lush lips. He nodded as he chewed, and that’s when Marcel noticed the man across from Zeke.
Like Zeke, he was tall. Where Zeke’s light brown hair was close-shaved, this man had shoulder-length, white-blond hair. He possessed startling blue eyes, pale skin, and a delicate beauty. He grinned as he talked, his hands gesturing wildly as he described something.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Zeke hadn’t stopped by or contacted Marcel in over a month because he’d found another omega, this one a dragon shifter. He’d gone from insisting Marcel was meant to be his to romancing another omega.
Burning pain stabbed through Marcel’s chest.
He wasn’t jealous.
How could he possibly be jealous? He’d rejected Zeke’s offer. He was pregnant with Zeke’s child, not that Zeke knew anything along those lines.
Mesmerized by the horrific scene and his reaction to seeing Zeke, he touched his lips, remembering Zeke’s searing kisses as he watched the alpha laugh and talk with another omega. His canine whined.
Zeke’s head swung toward the sound, his enhanced senses finding the source with unerring accuracy. He acknowledged Marcel with a brief nod, and then his attention returned to his companion.
It was too much. Marcel shoved his empty cup into the trash and fled the coffee shop. To avoid walking past the window near Zeke, he took the long way home, circling the block to double back in the other direction.
The passage of several hours found him staring into the flames of a fire in his fireplace. Yeah, he was brooding. All told, this day had not been a good one. First, the phone call with his parents had been excruciating, and then seeing Zeke with another man had been more than Marcel could bear.
When a knock sounded on the door, he roused himself from the warmth and comfort of his emotional refuge to answer.
Zeke’s broad shoulders filled the opening, his presence washing through Marcel’s consciousness. It soothed his beast and sharpened the ache. No smile graced Zeke’s handsome visage. “You wanted some furniture removed?”
“Yeah.” Marcel noticed two men behind Zeke. He recognized James and Neven from the last time Mr. Lowry had visited the apartment. They’d brought food and toilet paper, all of which Marcel had appreciated. “The dinin
g room set.”
He led the trio down the short hall and into the apartment.
“I’m not sure how you’re going to get the table out of here. The front hall is too narrow for it to fit.” If today was the day for bad things to happen, then this was the third thing. Didn’t that mean an end to his horrible day?
“You’re on the ground floor,” James said as he opened the slider to the porch. Neven picked up one end of the table, James grabbed the other, and together, they carried it outside.
Marcel searched for something to say. “I didn’t expect you.”
Rather than respond, Zeke lifted a chair in each hand and followed them outside and around the rear of the building. After a few minutes, the trio returned. James and Neven took the remaining four chairs, and Zeke regarded Marcel with a neutral expression. “You want the sideboard gone as well?”
“Yeah. I’m going to use the room as a studio, so I want it all gone.”
Zeke opened and closed the doors and drawers. “You want the plates and silverware gone?”
Marcel had never looked in the drawers before. The kitchen came equipped with all that stuff. Why would anyone need more? “Please.”
Without a word, Zeke disappeared. When he returned with his entourage, they had boxes and packing tape. In short order, the room was cleared. Even James and Neven had left, and now he was alone with Zeke.
The large alpha glanced around, his sharp gaze searching the space.
“Lose something?”
Zeke pressed his lips together, and vague hints of annoyance pinched his features, the first flicker of an emotion, and his gaze pointed over Marcel’s shoulder. “You don’t live alone.”
“Holden moved in.” He hadn’t meant it as a challenge, but it came out that way.
Not a muscle twitched on the handsome shifter’s face, confirming Marcel’s worst fear—that Zeke had moved on with another omega.
Strange and intense feelings bombarded Marcel, all of them bad. He identified jealousy, fear, rage, and sadness. It was too much to contain. “I saw you with that omega.” Though he tried to keep his tone neutral, it came out accusatory.