by Willa Okati
“Let me go, Jory.” Darius had his hand on the knob, and he wouldn’t meet Jory’s eyes. He did pause, though, and his shoulders went stiff. “Look, I -- I’m sorry. I am. But I shouldn’t have started this.”
Jory had good ears, and knew he’d heard Darius right, but he couldn’t quite believe it all the same. “Excuse me?”
Darius’s chin jutted out. Stubborn ass! “I think you need to find someone else to help you with this.”
“What?” Jory spluttered, but Darius moved too quickly for Jory to grab. Before Jory could make a swipe at him he was out the door and gone, the lock clicking shut behind him, leaving Jory to stare at the door in baffled anger.
What the fuck?
Chapter Six
“War council,” Jory said.
Kit blinked at him. He’d come over in the middle of the night when Jory called, still dressed in his pajamas under a robe that looked more or less like a trench coat. He sat in his usual place on Jory’s couch like a sleep-drunk toddler still confused about what was going on. “Say again? War what?”
“Hang on.” Sleep-drunk was one thing, but Jory needed a proper wine-drunk for this. He stalked into his kitchen and rummaged in the back of his fridge for a bottle of -- anything -- and, savagely pleased, came up with an unopened Chardonnay from the other week. He’d have settled for wine coolers if those had been all he had on hand, but a quality Chardonnay could go a long way toward soothing sharply wounded feelings. At least in the short term.
And he’d take the short term, if it was what he could get, because out of short terms, long terms could be built. He grabbed two glasses and carried the lot back into his living room, where he saw Kit had tilted over to doze off on the arm of his couch. He startled awake at the sound of his footsteps. “War council what?” he repeated.
“War. Fucking. Council.” Jory poured half a glass for both of them and pressed one on him. “Drink up, and get ready for a refill.”
“Ah. That kind of war council.” Visibly, if slowly, waking, Kit peered at his glass, then back up at Jory. He sniffed the air delicately, though he wouldn’t have had to. “You smell like sex and chemicals and a whole lot of Alpha aggression. Date didn’t go well, huh?”
“No, which is why we’re having this conversation in the wee smalls of Saturday morning instead of Monday ten minutes before work.”
Kit considered that, then sighed and tucked his feet underneath him. “Tell me what happened?”
Jory filled him in between slugs of wine and not one but two refills, the crisp white dry and delicious, its acid bitterness just what he craved. He kneaded his stomach absently, glad for just this moment that he wasn’t pregnant. He could have a fourth glass if he wanted, and he damned well might. “So, you tell me,” he finished. “What happened? I’ll be fucked if I can figure it out, and I’ve already been fucked twice tonight. Once properly in bed, once fucked-over, and I’m done.”
Gratifyingly, Kit took the question seriously. He leaned back into the corner of the couch and swirled his wine while he thought. “The suppressants, maybe? Seems like everything tripped off for both of you when you caught their scent.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I keep asking if Darius would blame me for my body not cooperating, not behaving the way it ought to. He kept saying no, and I know him. He meant it.” Jory sat on the opposite end of the couch. His glass was empty, but he’d have to gather the energy to get up and fill it again and just at the moment he was running low.
“And?”
Jory bit at his lip. “Is he maybe blaming himself for… not alpha-ing the drugs out of me?”
Kit wrinkled his nose “No. He’s got too much sense to blame himself for a Big Pharma fuckup. And he’s got a good nose. He probably smelled the suppressants on you before you even got started. You did, didn’t you?”
“And he went with me just the same,” Jory realized. “Knowing it all, he went with me.”
They fell silent for a moment, Jory digesting that, pretty sure Kit was doing the same.
“Scents can be pretty misleading,” Kit said after another sip at his Chardonnay. “We’ve all heard the stories about Betas who fool people into thinking they’re Alphas, or Omegas who don’t know they’re pregnant until they give birth. So Darius knew the score.”
“That makes it something else. But what?” Jory threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t get it. I have no fucking clue what’s wrong with him, and I know him like I know myself.”
Kit watched Jory while he spoke, chin in his hand, and took a deep breath when he was finished. “Okay, say that’s true. Then you do know what’s bothering him. You must know, even if it’s deep down where you can’t see. Think about it, Jory. Think.”
Jory shook his head in frustration, but he gave it a try just to show willing. He searched through everything they’d been through that night, everything they’d done and said and…
Oh.
Oh hell. Jory clapped his hands to his mouth.
“And there we have it,” Kit said quietly. “Say it out loud, Jory. It’ll help.”
Jory couldn’t keep it inside any longer. “I… love him,” he said, the first word slow, the second two bursting out. “Kit. Kit. What if he loves me?”
Kit kept silent, watching and waiting.
Jory couldn’t match that. He jumped to his feet and started to pace despite the smallness of his living room, tracing fast circles around the room. He raked a hand through his curls as he raced through his thoughts out loud. “I’ve loved him for I don’t know how long. Years. Maybe since we met. He’s always been half of my heart. But he doesn’t know. I never told him because I was sure he didn’t love me. And now… Kit, what if I left it too late? What if I lose him over this?”
“You won’t. Not Darius.”
“But it’s all coming apart.” Jory shook his head, feeling the pieces come together in his head. “If he loves me, I have to do right by him. And if this doesn’t work, it’s going to grind at him. It’ll eat at us like a cancer, Kit, and I could stand anything in the world except Darius looking at me like he did tonight.”
“Jory. Jory. “ Kit was out of his chair and stopped Jory mid-pace by cupping his palms to Jory’s cheeks. “That is so not the direction I was wanting you to go with this! But okay, say all that steaming pile of B.S. is true. What are you going to do about it?”
“What I have to. I can’t let things go on the way they have been.”
Kit narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You think I do? But I have to fix this.” Jory set his wine glass down, somehow unbroken even in his agitation, but it vibrated against the table when it landed. He knew he was pale to the lips but seeing every bit of it clearly, and feeling a bone-deep stubbornness setting in. The kind that got things done come hell or high water. “I know what I have to do. And I will, the first chance I get.”
“When is that?”
“Today. As soon as I see him again.”
* * *
So, what did you do with a former sailor in dire need of a strong drink?
If he called on a night owl of a friend before noon, even if only just, he gritted his teeth and asked to be brought a coffee when that friend bought one, for one thing. And for another, he didn’t dick around with taking steps and making choices. Lack of caffeine would do that. So would a sleepless night spent trying to wrap his head around the ins and outs of an Omega’s mind -- even an Omega as normally sane and sensible as Jory.
Arms folded over his chest, shoulders back and stiff, Darius waited impatiently at the corner where turning right would take him to Jory’s place, and turning left would take him to MacInnes’s. Though the morning was cold, his blood ran hot enough that waiting wouldn’t hurt him.
Even so, he didn’t wait long. Grant ambled around the corner fifteen minutes after Darius had called him. He carried a sturdy paper cup in each hand, both sloshing full with coffee so strong, rich and hot it should have come with pre-nuptial
agreements and an Adult Advisory sticker on the side.
As the fumes rolled down the sidewalk ahead of Grant, Darius caught a generous whiff of Irish whiskey well mixed in. He bared his teeth in a grin. Best of both worlds. Perfect.
“Calm down, Cujo, you don’t have to fight me for it.” Grant passed one of the cups over with a supreme lack of concern for his fingers, but with a kick to Darius’s boot, which was as good as a hug from the tough little Alpha. “War council?”
“War council,” Darius confirmed. He swigged the coffee, savoring the heat of it -- just barely escaped scalding his tongue -- and the bitter strength. “About me. And Jory.”
“I didn’t figure we were going to go to battle against the local weatherman,” Grant said with a shrug. “What happened?”
Darius told him.
When he’d finished, Grant stood for a moment sipping his coffee and frowning down at its plastic cap. He pressed his thumbnail into the cardboard sign a few times, then said, “Huh.”
Darius raised his arms. “Tell me about it. And while you’re at it, follow me.” He took off at a brisk stride, beckoning for Grant to come with him down the sidewalk. Not toward Jory’s, and not toward the pub, but in an entirely different direction. Forward. “This way. And talk while you walk.”
“I don’t know how you think I can help,” Grant said dubiously as he kept pace with Darius. “Even with as many as I’ve dated, my friend, I still have no idea how Omega minds work.”
“That’s not what I’m asking for help with.”
“Well, thank fuck,” Grant said emphatically. “Because I’ve got a meeting at noon with the realtor.”
That drew Darius up momentarily short. “The realtor? What… the old tattoo shop.” Grant’s grandfather’s legacy, before it’d been sold out of the family to pay off medical bills. Grant had been working for years to get it back. “You’re buying the tattoo shop?”
Now it was Grant’s turn to show his teeth. “I’ve got every penny of the asking price in my bank account and I’m ready to lay down a fat check. Granddad would be fucking proud, and you’d better be too.”
“I am.” Darius took Grant by the forearm, giving him a good firm shake that made Grant’s grin go brighter and fiercer. “Hell yes, and about time. Do you need to go now?”
“No, I’ve got until noon and I’m better off distracting myself. Besides, I’m swearing off Omegas until after the shop is up and running. This’ll be good motivation.”
Darius scowled at Grant and bounced his hand off the back of Grant’s head. Grant cackled and kicked at his shin.
“Oh yeah. We’re grown, mature, responsible men,” Darius said with a sigh. “Let me tell you a thing, and you tell me if you think I’m right or wrong.”
Grant raised an eyebrow, but nodded gamely and made a go ahead gesture.
Darius drew in a deep breath. “I’m in love with Jory.” When Grant didn’t respond, Darius looked back and found his fellow Alpha rolling his eyes. “What?”
“Darius, a dead dog could have told you that years ago. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Huh. Darius would come back, sooner than Grant would probably like, to his having known that and never having said anything about it. But he put a pin in it for the moment.
This one took more balls, but Darius didn’t feel lacking in them. “I think Jory might be in love with me, too,” he said, softer but able to taste the truth in the words. “He hasn’t said so. He’s got a surprising lot of pride under all that heart, but when I look back at what he’s said and done -- him asking me to father his baby! -- then it comes together. It must be true.”
This time Grant spared him the color commentary, but the look he gave Darius spoke volumes. He’d seen it for himself, and it was true.
“So,” Darius said.
“So,” Grant agreed. Their coffees were empty. He took Darius’s and tossed both into a trash can set next to a crosswalk’s light. “What are you going to do about it?”
“The only thing I can do, if I don’t want to toss a lifelong friendship down the drain. The only thing anyone could do. Hell, something I should have been smart enough to see and take care of years ago, according to you.” He considered that. “And to me. I should have seen it myself. I didn’t, and that’s on me, but now that means it’s my job to take care of. To fix.”
Grant eyed him warily. “And that means you’re going to…”
In answer, Darius gestured at the window of the storefront they’d come to a stop in front of. “Do this.”
“Shit.” Grant took a step back and a glance up at Darius. “That’s a hell of a step. Are you sure?”
“It has to be done.” Darius faced down the shop window and knew he wouldn’t back down. “And today.”
Chapter Seven
Jory had been half expecting it, but the knock at his door not long after noon still made him jump half out of his seat on the couch. “Whoa!”
Kit put his wineglass aside, out of the spill danger zone. “Do you think that’s him?”
No need to ask which him Kit meant. Jory sniffed the air, catching the scent, and nodded immediately. “Darius. I’d know him anywhere.”
“Are you picking up anything emotional?”
Jory took a couple sips of air then shook his head, frustrated. Sometimes high emotion did have a particular tang to it, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred Darius kept things locked down. “No. Just when it’d be handiest, too.”
Kit exchanged a grimacing glance of agreement with him. “Either way, I suspect I’d better see myself out. Unless you need help?”
Jory shook his head. He might piss Darius off from time to time, but he knew the last thing he ever had to do for any reason was fear his Alpha.
Kit knew Darius well enough to be sure of that too, but it’d been kind of him to offer. He nodded as he stashed his wine on an end table and uncoiled from his seat, then padded toward the window, the one with a fire escape, slipping his bare feet into shoes along the way.
“Headed up or down?” Jory asked, curious.
“Up.” Kit flashed him that particularly bright, sweet, puckish grin that’d had all the Alphas panting after him since he was old enough to chase and to be chased. “Word on the street is Deacon might be in town this afternoon if he can sneak away from a bullshit conference long enough.”
“And you’re here instead of somewhere he can find you? Why? Go! Go go go.”
Laughing, Kit slid open the window and slipped out onto the fire escape, from thence to disappear into the night. Hopefully to get happily, and righteously, laid. Jory sighed and lifted his wineglass in a salute as Darius knocked a second time, then searched for his spine, found it, and called out, “Be right there.”
As Jory made his way toward the door, this time his nose did pick up something. Hot, salty, melty cheese, sweetly spicy marinara with red pepper, the earthiness of mushrooms, the tingle of fennel in sausage and the smokiness of pepperoni. Under that, the scent of cold glass. They’d be sealed too tightly for any other smells to escape, but taken together they could only mean one thing. Pizza and a six-pack, probably something good and dense and nutty.
And Darius had brought them. He wasn’t mad enough not to care. Jory’s mouth watered and his stomach rumbled, but neither of those was why he hurried the last few steps to the door and threw it open.
Darius waited for him on his doorstep, pizza and beer in hand. He gave Jory a lopsided grin, just as devastating as Kit’s in its way. “Mind if I come in?”
Jory didn’t answer right away, drinking Darius in for a moment first. He looked rumpled -- Was it raining again? Had he run through the start of a storm? -- had a red nose and cheeks from the chilly air, and his jacket sat slightly askew on his shoulders.
Jory had never seen anything he liked the looks of better than the man he loved. He had intended to start talking right away -- to explain what he’d been thinking last night, to ask what Darius had been thinking, to wonder exactly what was wrong
with both of them, and maybe even come right out with an I love you or two just to get the pulse pounding nerves over leaping that hurdle out of the way. To see if Darius would say it back. He thought -- he hoped -- but… he changed his mind.
Instead of answering Darius’s question, Jory took the six-pack from Darius’s hand and set it aside, barely bothering to notice where it ended up. The pizza went next as Darius watched him, bemused, that one finding a home on his coffee table where it wouldn’t leave grease stains.
There. Now both of Darius’s hands were free, Jory caught them in his and drew his Alpha -- his, no one else’s, now or ever again, he hoped -- into the apartment and pushed the door shut behind him. He went up on his toes then, with one hand at the back of Darius’s neck and one arm around his waist to keep steady. Then, finally, he brought his mouth up to Darius’s and asked without speaking, let me in.
Darius brought his arms around Jory so quickly and eagerly Jory knew he’d been forgiven without even having to ask. Not that he wouldn’t, but still. In a minute, though. Just then Darius’s hands were settling on the curves of his ass and drawing him closer, pressing them full body to full body. All the Alpha-smell he’d kept tamped down enveloped both of them, dizzying, intoxicating, making Jory moan and lean hungrily into the kiss in search of more.
It would have been perfect if Darius had been quite as with the current program as Jory. He broke the kiss far enough to mutter, “Things I need to say.”
Jory put his finger to Darius’s kiss-swollen lips. “Later.”
Darius bit lightly at Jory’s finger. “I…” He shook his head, and then they were kissing again -- bliss! -- but half a second later he’d stopped again, damn his stubborn willpower, and put his hands on Jory’s shoulders to push him a few inches back. “Jory, let me speak.”
The note of Alpha authority in his voice made Jory shiver pleasantly, and it won Darius the space he wanted. Jory settled back on his heels, gazing up at Darius with eyes he knew were dark and wide as if he’d been drugged, enjoying the effect that visibly had on Darius.