Rebound (Latent Series Book 0)

by Alana Timms

  REBOUND

  Alana Timms

  Copyright © 2020 Alana Timms

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This paranormal romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to person(s), whether living or not are entirely coincidental.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal use only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Any trademarks, service marks or product names are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. Any use of these terms does not imply endorsement.

  Cover design by Germancreative

  Edited by Jenni Lea at LesCourt Author Services

  Beta Reading by Jill Wexler at LesCourt Author Services

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adult audiences.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  EPILOGUE

  Author’s Note

  FEVER - Chapter One

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Week 1

  Trent

  Trent had a smile pinned to his face. He kept that smile in place just in case Zach, striding toward the security checkpoint, should glance over his shoulder. Zach Logan, his best-friend-with-benefits. Also, his business partner. Going on an insane survival challenge to a remote jungle island to prove his alpha-ness. Trent’s smile wobbled when he thought about all the ways in which an untamed island could savage a bar co-owner whose closest encounter with wildlife so far had been facing off with a raccoon. He remembered the score well. Raccoon: 1, Zach: 0.

  “This is a final boarding call for flight VA115,” came a public announcement. “Would all passengers on this flight please proceed to Gate Thirteen immediately.”

  Shoulders squared and blond head held high, Zach didn’t look back.

  Trent dropped the smile. He turned sharply away as tears blurred his vision. “Pull yourself together,” he muttered. “He’ll be back in ten weeks.”

  Zach would be back. But he wouldn’t be returning to Trent, not in the same way. Things had changed already. The benefits part of their friendship had dried up soon after Zach set eyes on a certain fearless omega. The same omega who was also taking part in Top Dog, the survival challenge. Zach and his crush together on a remote island for ten weeks. The writing was on the wall for Trent.

  He texted Zach’s driver. He’s gone. On my way out now.

  The car was waiting in the pick-up zone by the time Trent exited the airport and stepped into the warm California sun.

  “Where to, Mr. McIntyre?”

  Trent hesitated. He could preserve his dignity. Or he could take the most pathetic option possible. He had a key, after all.

  “Mr. McIntyre?”

  “Back to Zach’s, please.”

  Where he slid into Zach’s king-size bed and pulled the covers over his head. Where he didn’t have to pretend to be a smiling, agreeable omega. Not when there was nobody around to see the real, seething him.

  “Fuck you, Zach. Fuck you!” He slammed his fist on the mattress again and again. Zach’s scent rose from the sheets and wrapped around him like arms that weren’t there.

  He couldn’t remember a time when he and Zach hadn’t been friends. When they started having sex six months ago, Trent had been delirious with joy. Finally, finally. He now wondered what it felt like to be more than a convenient hole. To be so desired that an alpha would drop everything, everyone, to follow you thousands of miles across the world.

  Trent laughed, a wet sound rattling in his throat.

  He hurt so bad he could puke.

  ****

  Noah

  “The enactment of the Truce during the Great War created a unique opportunity for humans, vampires, and shifters to coexist peacefully. As part of the Truce, all shifters were required to have suppressant shots—one at birth and another at puberty.” Noah paused, looking out at the freshmen scattered about the lecture hall.

  Over to the left, someone was filing their nails. Several others were trying – and failing – to be surreptitious in checking their phones. He held back a sigh. Not one of them seemed engaged in a subject that couldn’t be any closer to his heart.

  He soldiered on. “The aim of the shots was to prohibit shifters from transforming into wolves in order to calm the anxieties of the human population. The suppressants proved to be a huge success globally. Shifters ceased shifting and became latents, who are still required to be inoculated to this day.”

  “Uh, Professor Archer?”

  “A question at long last!” He rubbed his hands together. “Yes, Mr. Rossi?”

  “Time’s up. Can we go now?”

  “Sure, sure.” Forefinger to the bridge of his nose, he pushed his glasses firmly on. “See you all next week.”

  He packed up his messenger bag and followed the hastily departing students out of the lecture hall, heading across campus. The size of his classes diminished every year. Not a surprise when teaching shifter history at a college with a predominantly human student body. Common sense said he ought to be teaching in East District. Kids over there would be interested in the Truce and its implications on them.

  He scanned the parking lot with a sigh. If he’d been a shifter like nature intended, he wouldn’t have such crap spatial memory. Same thing every day, prowling through lanes of parked cars looking for his Prius.

  It being a Friday, he had two options. One, take up his ex-boyfriend’s open invitation of a home-cooked dinner and low octane movie.

  You’re always welcome, Noah. I never stopped caring about you.

  He nixed that, not ready to enter the cold comfort of the friend zone. He also nixed option two of a microwave chicken dinner for one. He put the car into drive and sped across La Tragua from West District, where he worked and lived, to East District, the home of the wolf. Most latents lived in East District.

  Vampires had South District. Humans dominated West District. La Tragua’s administrative center was located in North District and was mostly populated by bureaucrats from all three factions.

  Noah had considered moving to East District after the breakup with Andrew. Join a pack, or co-op as they were now known. Live among other latent wolves. He’d craved to be part of the latent community from the moment he’d discovered his true identity, but what he knew about latents he’d mostly learned from books. He tried to incorporate it into his own life, though with the immense gap between theory and practice, it wasn’t easy.

  Andrew used to tease him about it. “You latents are all about the alpha, beta, and omega thing. You’re so hung up on it. Do you want me to call you Alpha? Does it turn you on?”

  It did, as it so happened. And it was fun initially, Andrew playing at being his omega. But the novelty of dating a latent soon wore off for Andrew, and a year later he was pushing Noah out the door.

  I’m not an omega, Noah. I’m not what you need.

  Noah parked in the lot behind Pegasus, an East District bar and his preferred hangout three Fridays out of four. With decent music and a mellow crowd, Pegasus had a zero-tolerance policy against the harassment of omegas. Noah shared that policy.

/>   He sat on his usual stool at one end of the bar. Trent, or maybe Zach, would get to him when they got to him. He hoped it would be Trent. Zach couldn’t mix a cocktail to save his life.

  The plaintive cry of a sax floated through the air, mixing with the warm, spicy scents of beer. Tonight was all about Miles Davis as testified by the band playing his classics on a stage across the room. The band wasn’t very good, but the crowd was easy, applauding at the end of an off-key tribute. Pegasus’s hardline stance against dickish behavior attracted a high number of omegas. Quite a few alphas and betas too.

  Although latents were no longer able to shift into their wolves, they still retained a few of the characteristics of their shifter ancestors, so you could usually tell a latent’s Status just by looking at them.

  Tall, broad, and muscular alpha. Confident to the point of abrasive.

  Tall and lean beta. Passive but capable of aggression.

  Medium height omega. Slight build. Dark brown hair. Wide gray eyes that reflected a guileless demeanor. A sweet, docile disposition. Grace in every line of his slim build. With fluid movements like silk in motion, Trent was a typical omega. Noah could watch him work all night and leave drunk without having touched a drop.

  “Hey, handsome. The usual?” asked Trent.

  “That would be great.”

  “One Rusty Nail coming up.”

  Trent’s eyes were red-rimmed, his smile strained around the edges. Lover’s quarrel? Business disagreement? As Trent and Zach owned the bar together, it could be either. When he couldn’t spot Zach at his own special barstool or among the crowd, Noah asked, “No Zach today?”

  Trent set the cocktail down in front of him. His smile wasn’t any less strained. “Enjoy!”

  It wasn’t Noah’s place to pry. But if Trent were his omega, Noah would take care of whatever was making him sad and strained. Bring back that happy smile. Trent served two more customers before returning to him.

  “You didn’t hear about Zach?”

  Noah’s stomach dropped. “Oh, god, Trent. I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Should you be at work?”

  Trent tipped his head to the side, frowning. “Sorry about what?”

  “About Zach. You just said…he was so young.”

  “Was?” Trent laughed. Head thrown back, hands braced on the counter—that kind of laughter.

  Noah had never seen anything more beautiful. He thought he had, the night he’d come back just after closing time. Went into the office to see if anyone had handed in his tie, Andrew’s last present to him. He’d walked in on Trent laid out on the desk with his pants around his ankles and Zach bent over him, sucking him off. Trent, his eyes half closed and drenched in lust as he arched into his orgasm, that graceful back. Fingers gripping Zach’s hair.

  “I think this is yours,” Trent had said the next day, handing him the tie, his cheeks pink and his gaze anywhere but on Noah.

  The tie reminded Noah of Trent after that. He only had to look at it to get hard.

  Trent coming was a beautiful sight. Trent laughing at something he’d said was stunning in a way that made Noah dizzy. Had his veins filling with warm honey, while the memory of that night made his cock fill with hot blood.

  “I take it Zach’s not dead, then?” he asked, striving for casual to hide that he was kind of a mess around this omega.

  “He went on a survival challenge. Ten weeks in the jungle.”

  Zach in the jungle? Wonders never ceased. “Not to be disrespectful, but your alpha doesn’t strike me as the intrepid explorer type.”

  Trent’s face shut down. He nodded at Noah’s empty glass. “Another one, Professor?”

  “Please. And call me Noah.”

  “Sure thing, big guy.”

  A year he’d been coming to Pegasus. Almost every Friday for twelve months, and Trent had never called him by his name.

  ****

  Trent

  Trent splashed Drambuie over a measure of scotch, slammed in some ice, and stirred. He kept his gaze somewhere in the region of Noah’s chin as he handed over the cocktail with a smile. Don’t forget to smile. Be nice. He’d actually been feeling pleasant. Until Noah made that comment about Zach being his alpha. Which was true, but only in Trent’s head.

  The kicker was, Noah seemed like a great guy. The type of alpha to grab Trent’s interest were he not unrequited over Zach. He snuck a glance at Noah through the mirrored wall behind the drinks’ shelves. Zach called him CK. Clark Kent. Trent could see why. Noah had the height and build, the square-jawed good looks and thick dark hair. His large hands made the tumbler look like a toy. He’d be intimidating, if the kind brown eyes behind his wayfarer glasses didn’t offset the raw alpha energy pouring off him.

  Noah took off his tie and blazer and undid the top two buttons on his shirt. He stuffed the tie in his pocket. Rolled up his sleeves, muscled forearms flexing. Trent’s pulse spiked at that flexing. Interest definitely grabbed. Warm all over, he turned away from the shelving and, grabbing a wet bar towel, wiped Mint Julep off the specials board. He wrote Havana Moon in his best cursive on the still-wet board, then moved down to the other side of the counter, smiling wide at a waiting customer.

  “What can I get you, handsome?”

  “I don’t know. Any suggestions? But not the Havana Moon, can’t stand it.”

  “Well, now, let’s see. Ever tried a Screaming Orgasm?”

  “Sounds good. Yeah, I’ll take one of those.”

  The night wore on. Trent worked the far end of the bar, rarely venturing to the end Noah propped up almost every Friday night. He would come in, have two Rusty Nails then stick to soda water with a twist of lime for the rest of the night. All the staff had noticed him. Who wouldn’t? Looking like that, how could he not attract attention?

  Noah got plenty of it, from betas, omegas, and sometimes alphas. He either shrugged it all off, or launched into a monologue on shifter history, which had the same effect as the shrugging off but faster. He never took anyone home. All Noah seemed to want was to throw back Rusty Nails while shooting the breeze with whomever happened to be serving his end of the counter. Coincidentally, that person was usually Trent.

  Some of the staff had concluded Noah was asexual.

  Trent had reason to believe that wasn’t the case.

  Like everyone else, he’d noticed Noah. Noticed him like, oh, tall. And oh, nice smile. And mostly, oh, Rusty Nail addict. But one night, there Trent was, spread out on his office desk with his dick pulsing in Zach’s throat, when Noah swung the door open, and froze. The heat in his eyes had been enough to set Trent alight. Like he wanted to shove Zach off and take his place. No one had ever looked at Trent like that before, like he was too good for Zach. He’d come so hard a sob caught in his throat, Noah’s name trembling on his lips. That night, he’d really noticed Noah. Like, sexy professor with the pyro powers.

  But hot as Noah was, it wasn’t him that Trent wanted.

  Not unless Trent could numb the hard ball of emotions jammed in his chest. Angry that Zach had left him. Angry that Zach had touched him and then left him. Angry that he’d let Zach touch him. Trent couldn’t do casual. He was stupid to have gone there with Zach.

  Inattentive, he dropped the bottle he’d grabbed off the shelf. Shards of glass went everywhere and tequila fumes soaked the air.

  A cheer went up from the customers crowded along the counter.

  “Dammit, Trent,” said Kimberly, his shift partner. She shot a frown at him. “Clean that shit up before somebody gets hurt.”

  He fumbled with a brush and dustpan, smarting at her tone. What the hell? Kimberly had never spoken to him like that before. The tone of a beta berating an omega. Trent was her employer, omega or not. She didn’t speak to him like that. Wouldn’t have dared take that tone with Zach for sure.

  And that just tightened the hard knot in Trent’s chest.

  He kept Pegasus together. He ran this place. Him, not Zach. Kimberly stepping out of line just because Zach wasn’t ar
ound was one insult too many. He stashed the brush and dustpan, and signaled to one of the servers weaving through the tables.

  “Could you take my place here? I’m leaving early.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea, Trent?” asked Kimberly. She’d gone from frown to full-on scowl. “We’re really busy tonight.”

  “I’ve had a rough day, I could use—”

  “We’ve all had a rough day,” Kimberly said with an eye roll.

  Trent fought it, but it was no use. The blush scalded his cheeks and surged toward his hairline. He trained his gaze on the damp tequila patch on the floorboards. Customers were waiting to be served. Kimberly and the server were waiting on further instructions. He drew in a sticky breath, frazzled.

  “Are you ready, Trent? We should get going.”

  He swung his gaze to Noah, who had put his blazer back on and had pushed his way to the front of the crowd watching Trent. Noah held out his hand. Trent grabbed it. Didn’t think it through, just grabbed and held on.

  Grateful for the support in that big, warm hand, he said, “I know you guys can handle things here tonight. See you tomorrow.”

  Each on their own side of the bar, hands joined above it, he and Noah walked along to the end, where Trent rounded the counter and followed Noah out into the night.

  ****

  Noah

  Based on Noah’s observations over the past year, Trent was unflappable. He didn’t get flustered. Trent managed the staff and customers with a conciliatory smile, coaxing; willing to compromise. Seeing Trent red-faced and mute, wilting under the weight of the gazes on him, had spurred Noah, a force as undeniable as a bulldozer compelling him to shield Trent. He couldn’t have ignored the force any more than he could have stopped his heart beating.

  Trent now sat huddled in the passenger seat of Noah’s car, his face shadowed in the dim light. “Thanks for…” Trent dipped his chin to his chest and spoke to his navel. “For rescuing me, I guess.”

  “No problem.” Noah turned the engine on. “But I hope Zach made arrangements for another alpha to stand in for him at the bar while he’s away.”