by Aiden Bates
“Do you have somewhere you can lock yourself in?” He heard Tristan talking in a low, commanding voice from the other end, and it was enough for him to gather his wits to gulp down a breath.
“Y-yeah.” He wanted to try and explain that he was already in his panic room, but he could tell that Tristan was mobilizing.
“Hide. Now. I’m on my way.” The call ended abruptly, and Myrick was left in the quiet dark of the panic room.
He could have turned the light on, sure, but light meant being out in the open, and being able to be seen. Nevermind that he was already in a locked panic room and that it was incredibly unlikely that his would be attacker could get in, but it didn’t mean that he had to take the chance of it. There was already an Alpha, high on his pheromones and looking for his prey, lurking around outside, and the less Myrick did to potentially draw attention to himself, the better as far as he was concerned.
“Where are you, you little knot slut?” There was a deep voice, muffled from the heavy door between them, but he could tell that the Alpha was already growling with anticipation. “Come on out, sweet thing. I caught your scent. I know what you need.” Myrick pressed his hand against his mouth to muffle the sobs as he cried, pressed it hard enough against his face that he felt every bone in his fingers ache from the pressure, hard enough that he felt his teeth cutting into the inside of his lips. “Why ya hiding all of a sudden? Playing hard to get with me? Is that what we’re doing, kitten?”
“Please stop,” Myrick whispered against his own mouth, his words barely a whistle of air for how hard it was for him to breathe. His throat was tight, and his stomach was tangling itself in knots. He felt sick all over again, and though he couldn’t see, even the dark was spinning. Quietly, he leaned over, lying on his side and curling into himself, praying with everything that he had in him that the Alpha would just give up his search and leave, as futile a hope as it was. “Please, just go away.”
“That’s a nice little nest you’ve got here, sweetling.”
Something deeply primal inside of him was gripped with panic at the thought of this, this monster spreading his scent where it had no right to be. To do so would go against every instinct of even the Alpha himself, who would need the Omega’s permission to enter his nest.
“How’s about I bring you back to your nest, sweet thing, and we get you knotted up all good? How would ya like that?”
It was getting harder and harder to hold in the sobs, and immediately Myrick knew what was happening, what his intruder was trying to do: he wanted to upset Myrick to the point where he could either track him down through his scent, or to where he would run out to try and stop him in a fit of panic.
‘Joke’s on him,’ Myrick thought bitterly as he felt his legs lock in their position, curled up to his chest. ‘The only things I do when I panic are freeze on the spot and cry.’ He was beginning to shiver, he realized, his pants clinging to him from the lingering sweat and lubricant from his backside making him colder than he already was on account of not having a shirt. He thought about the thick blanket that he had folded in the back corner of the room, and for a brief moment, contemplated feeling around for it, but his body was completely locked in fear, and he didn’t want to make any noise anyway; better cold and hidden.
“Myrick?!”
The Omega nearly sobbed in relief when he heard Tristan distantly, near where his front door was, and contemplated screaming for him, but knew that doing so would hurt him far more than it would help Tristan; he didn’t have a big house, so there was very little to search.
“You got an Alpha, and you still broadcast yourself out there like that?” He heard the stranger cluck his tongue in admonishment. “Such a greedy, little slut, but that’s all right. I’ll take care of this little fuckboy first, then I’ll come back for you. All right, sweetling?”
There were footsteps fading out, signaling that the stranger was off to hunt for a different quarry.
He held his breath, and waited, all the while whimpering out Tristan’s name like a prayer and fighting not to know why he needed Tristan above all others in the moments where he was at his most endangered.
9
Falling Hard, Falling Fast, Landing Rough
By the time his car screamed to a stop outside of Myrick’s house, Tristan was seeing red. His focus tunneled down to the front door and how many steps it was going to take to get him there. He sprinted up to it, testing the doorknob to see if it was locked. The door opened without protest—he vaguely wondered if Myrick hadn’t locked it before, though it would explain how the door remained intact while there was an intruder.
Irrelevant. Myrick needed him.
He stepped inside, nearly blown back by the scent of Myrick’s pheromones permeating the air in the space. It was a heady rush of his delectable scent—cinnamon and musk—it was potent enough that for a moment he swayed on his feet but managed to rally himself into focusing on something less primal than ‘Omega, there is an Omega in heat I must mate with Omega’ and instead focused on using that carnal urge to pound his chest like a primordial caveman to propel him further in the house.
“Myrick?!” He called out, hoping that he would only find the Omega in his home, shaken but unharmed, and he could help him calm down. His voice was rough and when he bellowed, the air scraped against the walls of his lungs on its way out. He paid it no mind, it was of no consequence so long as he was able to confirm Myrick’s safety. All that mattered was that he could make sure that Myrick was safe—one way or another.
There came heavy, stomping footfalls from deeper in the house, and he knew at once that Myrick wasn’t the only one that was here. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, his instincts demanding that he force this other Alpha, this unwelcome entity out of this space and ensure that his Omega was safe. ‘His?’ He grimaced; breathing in Myrick’s pheromones was really starting to get to him and agitate the attraction he already felt for the man.
“Myrick? That’s the sweet thing’s name?”
Tristan bristled when the stranger came into view, sauntering out of the hallway as though this were his home, his property. The thought made Tristan’s stomach churn. “That’s good to know. I like to know what my Omega’s name is before I start to take them as mine.”
“Myrick doesn’t belong to anyone,” Tristan snarled, widening his stance as he began to bide his time, hoping to bait this other Alpha into making the first move.
“So he ain’t yours, then?” The would be attacker sniffed. “Nah, your scent ain’t hardly here, so the little kitten ain’t marked yet.”
“Leave now, and you don’t have to get hurt,” Tristan warned—he always gave a warning, a chance to leave without things turning ugly. He was taller than the other Alpha and almost twice as wide, so he had a notable size advantage, to say nothing of the defense and martial arts classes he had taken over the years; that he would win this fight was a foregone conclusion, though the question would turn into how long he was going to have to wear this stranger down before he made his claim clear.
‘Claim?’
No, not a claim—never a claim—nothing more than that Myrick was under his protection. He saw the way that Myrick had looked at him when he’d flirted; while he knew that the two of them were becoming good friends, he could tell that Myrick had a deep-seated mistrust of Alphas, likely as an end result of at least one bad experience.
Experiences like this one.
“You think you’re gonna chase me off so you can snag the little knot slut for yourself?” The intruder spit. “You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m gonna give up my claim. I came here first.”
Well, no one can say he didn’t try.
“I was going to just rough you up enough to get you to go, but now?” He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles to ensure he was as flexible as he needed to be to move around in the fight. “Now, I’m gonna feed you your own fucking teeth.” The ot
her Alpha charged at him, flailing wildly, and Tristan grinned—perfect.
He lowered his stance and curled forward so that his shoulder slammed into the attacker’s chest, stopping him cold. Tristan sensed the air getting knocked from his opponent’s lungs. His grin widened, and he used his attacker’s own momentum against him. He shifted the kinetic energy of his charge to his own advantage, hooking an arm around the Alpha's leg and lifting him as he stood straight, throwing his opponent over his shoulder effortlessly.
Either the invading Alpha had never been in a fight before, or had never been trained for fighting, as he landed hard on his chest, and whatever wind may have still been in his lungs was promptly knocked out. Tristan heard the desperate, wheezing gasp from the man as he tried to inhale a breath too soon after landing and only succeeded in choking. Were this a fair fight where it wasn’t against someone that had intended to hurt someone he cared deeply about, he might have simply waited for the stranger to stagger to his feet, but as far as he was concerned, the man had brought his own misery upon himself.
“I don’t usually like kicking a man while he’s down,” Tristan growled as he stalked over the scant few steps to where the intruder was gasping pitifully on the ground. He grabbed the man by his shirt, dragging him up so that he could look him in the eye. “But you’re not really a man, are you? Real men don’t try to hurt people just because they can.” He wound his free hand back and swung, connecting his fist with the man’s jaw. He felt the way the man’s face cracked against the force of it, just a bit, beneath his fist, and ignored the way that his whole hand popped as a result. “Part of me wants to just keep beating you,” he said as he swung again, paying no mind to his knuckles’ protesting the action even as they slammed against his nose, feeling the cartilage cave under the force of his punch. He was fairly certain he managed to break a bone or two, judging from the burning and pulsing his hand felt from the abuse. He thought to call the police, but that would take too long, and the man would be gone or dead by the time they got here. It would just upset Myrick more, and he didn’t want that. “But I want you well enough to leave,” he spat, shoving the man toward the door. “So, go run with your tail between your legs, boy. You aren’t welcome here.”
The stranger staggered into the door frame rather than merely bolting, pausing to turn his head to look at him from over his shoulder, and for a brief moment, Tristan thought that he was going to have to actually break something else of the man’s for him to give up and leave. Maybe the intruder had thought to turn around and fight, but he seemed to decide that the Omega wasn’t worth it, and knew he was beat, because he staggered out into the night. Tristan moved to the front door and watched the man run until he couldn’t see him anymore.
Satisfied that he had chased the Alpha off, and glad that he didn’t have to have a barroom-style brawl with more than one of the fuckers, he closed the front door, taking great care to lock it behind him with both the bolt and the chain locks.
“Myrick?” he called out again, in as calm and gentle a voice as he could considering that he was shouting. He stepped out of his shoes, not wanting to sound like he was the attacker and confuse the Omega. The thought that shouting might not even work depending on where he was in the house occurred to him, and he fished out his phone and called Myrick.
“Tristan?” He breathed a sigh of relief that the Omega answered at all and swallowed.
“Myrick, it’s all right—he’s gone. You can come out of…wherever you’re hiding now, it’s safe.” The concern that when Myrick appeared, his scent would overwhelm him came to his mind, but he pushed it away; after this whole ordeal, the last thing on his mind was anything but making sure that his—that Myrick—was all right.
“I… ah....” he was panting, no doubt from everything catching up to him. “I unlocked the door, but, ah,” he trailed off into a soft huff. “My legs don’t want to work.”
“Where are you?” Tristan asked, arching his brow. He didn’t want to move and make it seem like he was the one stalking him now, so he waited; this all had to be Myrick’s choice, after all.
“I, um…” the Omega’s voice grew timid. “I’m in my panic room. It’s behind a bookshelf in my room.” That an Omega had a panic room was hardly a surprise; those that were wealthy or had a wealthy partner often had them in the event of something happening. Hell, even wealthy Betas often had panic rooms in case of break-ins.
“Okay, Myrick I need to ask you before I move one foot deeper into your house,” he spoke in his Alpha voice, a rumbling tone that Omegas naturally listened to—they weren’t compelled to obey, merely to listen, and he really only liked using it when it could help someone. “Do I have your permission to come to the bedroom and get you out?”
“Yeah. Please,” came the reluctant reply. Tristan breathed a sigh and began to move down the hallway. He peeked into doorways to see which room was his bedroom. “I can’t really hear you moving.”
“Took my shoes off,” Tristan said offhandedly as he looked into what seemed to be an untouched guest bedroom. “Didn’t want to track mud everywhere. ‘S rude.” Myrick let out a shaky, surprised laugh, and Tristan took it as a personal victory. “I’m heading down the hall, just trying to find—” he rounded the corner of the hallway, nearly choking on the sudden spike in pheromones that clouded the air, and he swayed on his feet, his broad shoulder slamming into the wall as he tried to ground himself.
“Tristan?!” He flinched at the panic that had returned in Myrick’s voice—he probably just heard the thump and was assuming the worst.
“I’m alright, I’m alright,” he tried to soothe him as he straightened back up and continued down the hall. The only room with lights on was at the end of the hallway, so he checked there first. It was where the scent was strongest, and when he gently pushed the door open, he saw that it was certainly his bedroom—complete with a nest that had been vacated. Considering Myrick had likely built the nest in the midst of the early stages of his heat, Tristan had to admit that it was a cozy-looking nest for how haphazardly thrown together it looked, with soft pillows and blankets forming a cul de sac of comfort. Would Myrick even want to go back into that nest, given what happened, Tristan wondered. He could hardly blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.
“I’m entering the room,” he said into the phone as he stepped inside, noting the bookcase on the other end of the wall. “How do I move past the bookcase? Is it one of those secret door ones?”
“Yeah,” Myrick sniffed. “There’s a blue book on the top shelf. It doesn’t have a title on the spine.” He eyed the book in question, though was surprised that it didn’t otherwise stick out.
“Do I just…?” He tugged the book, and it slid about halfway out before he heard a click, and the whole bookcase swung gently open. “I know you’re upset right now but that’s… that’s fucking cool.” Myrick’s bubble of laughter as he opened the actual door to the panic room sounded like a victory cry, like a sign that it was all over and the Omega was going to be okay. The door opened, and the two of them were staring at one another, still holding their phones to their ears. “Hi,” he said simply with a smile.
“...Hi.” Myrick said softly, a smile of his own gracing his face.
It looked like the sun coming out after a rainy day.
10
We Rise to Fall Together
“I’m sorry,” Myrick blurted out as Tristan scooped him up by the bend of his knees and his back, holding him like the prince he desperately wanted to be able to treat him like. “I don’t…it’s…” Myrick fell quiet for a moment, trembling against his chest. “I know this is probably…not really easy. And I’m sorry that you had to come rescue me, and I’m a mess, and just—”
“I don’t want you to worry about any of that right now,” Tristan said as he carried him out of the panic room. Myrick closed the bookcase back up before tucking himself back under Tristan’s chin. “You’re shivering—you’re cold.” He wasn’t using his Alpha voic
e but his instincts had kicked in to some degree—‘Omega is uncomfortable go fix it’ was about as far ahead as he was thinking at the moment, his every sensory input tunneling down to what he was feeling from the Omega.
“A little.” Myrick shivered.
“And wet.” Tristan barely suppressed a growl at himself when he felt himself stirring again, his cock swelling and pushing insistently against his basketball shorts. Now was not the time for this, he reminded himself firmly. He had to be in control—for Myrick. “Can you take a shower? Would that help?” Myrick thought for a moment and shook his head. “All right, how about some tea? You’ve got your kettle here, I could reheat the water and get you a cup.”
“...Okay.”
Tristan nodded and went to put him down when he paused. “Is this going to be okay? Being in here, I mean.”
Myrick paused a moment before nodding his head. “Can’t smell him,” he sighed as he was set down, burrowing into the center of his nest. “Just smell you.”
Tristan gulped heavily and had to take a moment to keep himself in check as he flicked the switch on the kettle and let it heat. The thought that Myrick liked his scent made every inch of him scream with the want to mark him—claim him, make him yours. He is all yours for the taking do you not smell him—but he cut his own thoughts off and poured Myrick a cup of his tea, still standing and keeping some space between them.
“Thank you,” Myrick hummed softly as he took the mug of tea. “...You’re far away.”
“Don’t want to scare you.” Tristan shrugged, keeping his gaze focused on the side table laden with goodies. “Just want you to be okay.”
“I’m better now.” Myrick sipped his tea, seeming unable to take his eyes off of the Alpha. “You’re here.”