Love at Sea

by Preston Walker

  Linden lifted up his anchor and unlocked the door to the bridge, shoving himself inside. There was hardly enough room in there for all the necessary equipment, sonars, radios, and other important devices, let alone a large man, but he squished himself inside and ran through a performance check.

  His system was a bit slow today, but everything seemed to be running smoothly.

  He turned his radio frequency to a channel that offered a constant stream of weather and local news, and set out.

  Storming Lady was, as always, slow to go but sure and steady once she started. She was like a building storm, or a woman’s anger.

  Linden relaxed back in his chair, watching his radar and taking note of the world outside his windows as he left the dock far behind and hit open water. The ship rocked and bounced with the rough currents that were a constant presence in the Bering Sea. He had been on an airplane only once in his life and found the turbulence of the skies to be much the same, but as with all things, he preferred the water.

  He set out a course for the area he had been scoping out for days now, trying to decide whether or not it would be suitable for fishing, but he knew he was just too distracted to make a good decision. He just wanted to pretend like he was doing something, to pretend to focus his mind in the hopes that actual focus and productivity would follow.

  Very quickly, he found that wasn’t going to be the case. His senses were open. The sea was all around him, rocking his ship as he guided it towards deeper waters. He examined his radar and his information stream, constantly fed to him by a series of gauges and lights, but the meaning of it all was lost on him. He listened to the radio, the reports being made, but they might as well have been speaking Japanese for all he knew.

  His thoughts were full of that omega boy. The salt-scent of the sea breeze transformed into his delicate scent; every word seemed to want to be spoken in the boy’s voice, but Linden hadn’t even heard him say a single word. Everything he saw reminded him of shaggy brown curls and golden eyes, a thin physique and shy stature, even though there was nothing so emotional in the bridge to inspire those things. It made no sense, and he hated himself for his own distraction.

  However, no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t stop.

  Fuming quietly to himself, Linden passed the hours away from noon ‘til dusk, trying to convince himself that he was working and doing a very important thing by doing so. It was the most he’d ever lied to himself, and he was angry about that, too.

  Returning to the docks, he made sure Storming Lady was secure, and then he went on his way. The leap down from the boat onto the dock was much more graceful, and he stayed in his wolf form as he skirted around the town and went up into the scenic hills. Loping easily, tongue hanging from his mouth, he took a sharp left back towards the town again to enter a rather rough area, where the sea had been particularly tormenting before other buildings were constructed closer to the water. Windows were boarded up and the street was so cracked that no one who lived in any of the apartments would ever bother with a car. It wasn’t so much a particularly crime-ridden area so much as it was the poor part of Dutch Harbor.

  Linden padded silently down the street a ways, using the cover of shadows to disguise his bright fur. The street lamps here had long since died and been removed, instead of replaced; most of the citizens would rather pretend that this part of town did not exist and funneled money away from its maintenance to pay for the docks and other money-makers.

  Little did they know that a great deal of the people who ran the docks lived back here. Or, perhaps they did. Linden didn’t know, or care. It was unfair, but all things were.

  Arriving in front of his apartment building, he balanced up on his hind legs to paw at the doorknob. It creaked open reluctantly, and he dropped back down to nose his way inside. Bounding up three flights of stairs, he came to a stop at the door to his apartment and was just transforming back when it opened for him.

  “Hey, Linden,” Skip said gruffly, peering at him with dark eyes set deep in his skull. He stepped back and scratched at his short, fuzzy hair with one hand that flashed dark chocolate in the hazy apartment light.

  “Hey, Skip,” Linden sighed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “How are things here? You been holding down the fort okay?”

  “As okay as I can when no one else wants to clean,” Skip grunted. “Seems a damn shame that I’m the only one of us who seems to remember how to do chores.”

  A voice called out from the living room. “None of us were ever as pussy-whipped as you!”

  Skip snarled good-naturedly but just shook his head in response. Ordinarily, four dominant men would never have been able to share a living space like this, but being mated did something to a person. It mellowed them.

  Linden was hit with the idea that very soon he might be the one who was mellowed, and he shook his head while kicking off his boots. “What’d you get?”

  Skip went over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles. One was square and flat, while the other was as round as could be. Cheap whiskey and cheap vodka, respectively.

  “That’ll do it,” Linden sighed, and took a look around while walking through the apartment.

  Together, all four of them made just enough money to afford the three-room, two-bath apartment. Linden, Skip, and the other two beta wolves, Degasi and Matteo, each took turns sleeping in the beds every week, while someone always took their place on the couch. For the most part, it was big enough, but sometimes tensions grew too high for the arrangement to be really comfortable. And since there were four of them living in the same area, none of the decorations quite matched.

  Degasi and Matteo were in the living room just beyond the foyer, which was near the kitchen and the half-dining room. Both men were sitting together on the couch, nursing sodas in anticipation of a stronger drink when Linden came home. They looked up now, as different as night and day. Degasi had wild dreadlocks and rough skin, while Matteo was fine-featured and wore a neatly-trimmed beard as though he had been born with it.

  “About time you showed up,” Degasi said, his voice deceptively silky. “We were about to get started without you!”

  Matteo held up one hand. “Hold on there, D. Before we all get drunk, I have to say that you look a little rough there, Linden. Something happen?”

  Linden growled at them and took a seat in his recliner. It was old and mold was steadily climbing up one corner, but it was his and no one else dared sit there. After all, he was an alpha and they were still beneath him. “I think you’re already blasted, Matteo.”

  “Eh, no,” the Italian wolf said. “But I think I would like to be.”

  Degasi, who was Ethiopian, tilted his head so that his dreads flopped all over the place. “Now that you mention it, Matteo, he does look a bit rough.”

  Linden dropped his head forward and rubbed it with one hand, trying to soothe the stress headache away from behind his eyes before it could fully form. “You people are going to be the death of me,” he groaned out loud. “I can’t have just one day of peace and quiet?”

  “Something must have happened because you can’t be mad at us. We weren’t even there all day.” Skip’s voice was quiet as he took the last place on the couch, tipping up the bottle of whiskey and taking a deep swig. He gasped as it burned at the back of his throat, and Linden turned his head; obediently, Skip passed him the bottle and began to break into the vodka while the other betas leaned in and licked their lips like they were waiting their turn to eat from a fresh kill.

  Tipping the bottle back, Linden took three quick swallows and then looked up from the bottle with a gasp as the smooth burn went down his throat and began to heat up his stomach. Feeling more relaxed already, he slumped back in his chair and took a cursory glance at the TV. Sports. Nothing that interested him.

  “Captain?” Degasi said.

  “Fine,” he growled. “I think I ran into my mate today.”

  A silence descended upon the small group for a momen
t as they all three pondered this sudden development. Skip was the first to speak, as usual. “You think or you know?”

  Linden was loathe to discuss the feelings that even now were at the forefront of his mind, so all he said was, “Pretty damn sure. Guess the little guy must have just moved here or something.”

  “Guy?” Matteo asked, his accent thickening. He made air quotes around the word and looked apologetic.

  “Yes,” Linden sighed. “Guy. Male. Real little guy, too. If he was out of his teens, I’ll let one of you bite my tail.”

  Another silence descended upon the four wolves, each of them lost in their thoughts, and every single one pretending to just be watching the game playing on TV. Acceptance of homosexual behavior was far more widespread in the shifter world than it was in the human world. Their animal counterparts gave them an extra understanding of the world that normal humans didn’t have: instincts. More than that, they were given the added benefit of acceptance. Some things simply were. Not everything had an explanation. Finding a mate was one of those things. Whoever it was, you couldn’t escape the reality and it couldn’t be changed.

  Still, that didn’t mean everyone was going to be accepting, as a rule. Linden himself was no stranger to male lovers, and he’d had more than his fair share of experience with them. He had thought that he was more inclined to females but apparently his nature said otherwise.

  He had no idea how his crew, his roommates, his friends, would feel about the revelation.

  After a moment, Degasi grabbed for the bottle of vodka and lifted it up high into the air. “Congratulations are in order then, are they not? The taste of love…”

  All three of the beta males gave a deep sigh in unison. Linden was amused for a moment, thinking they resembled something out of a TV show, but it was short-lived and he just shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t need trouble like this right now.”

  “Trouble?” Skip asked. “What else happened?”

  After taking his turn with the vodka, Degasi passed the tall bottle over to Linden. The alpha wolf frowned for a moment and then took a thoughtful swig. He didn’t really enjoy the taste. It was like swallowing a mouthful of glass and then pretending to enjoy the bleeding afterwards, but he needed the hazy fog it would bring in over his thoughts.

  “Nothing happened. I saw the kid once at that store where I got the rope—old bat got me the wrong kind or something—but I didn’t really take notice of him. I was on my way back to give her a piece of my mind when I…literally ran into the kid.”

  “And?”

  Linden shrugged, feeling embarrassed and probably looking like it, too. In any other situation, he would have bitten the muzzle of anyone who tried to pry into his affairs but these three were practically his brothers. Besides, it felt good to share. He supposed that was one good thing about a pack, exchanging words and sharing the burdens of the world with others, but he didn’t have a pack. His crewmates were all the pack he had, and the same went for every single one of them as well.

  “And that was it. I kind of ran away from him.”

  The crowded living room erupted into raucous laughter as the three betas slapped at their knees and drank, occasionally belching. Linden waited patiently for it to end, giving no outward sign of his annoyance but a twitching vein in his forehead.

  “Are you quite done?” he finally asked.

  Matteo wiped his eyes. “Captain, your love stories could use a little work. Don’t worry. We Italians know love. Might I suggest sweeping him off his feet with a rose in your mouth?”

  The three males burst out laughing again. Linden couldn’t help but crack a smile this time, too. “Should I dethorn it first?”

  “No, no!” Degasi joined in, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement at being able to contribute. “Keep them! He will be so enamored by the fact that you’re willing to bleed for him!”

  “I’m not sure,” Linden grunted. “Kid didn’t look like the tough sort. I bet he’d pass out if he saw blood. Besides, this isn’t really the best time. All of you know that. It’s nearly the season.” A sober sort of silence fell upon the four men in the room, which they all tried to combat by drinking even more. “If we don’t do well this time, we’re sunk. Right down to Davy Jones’ locker, and the Storming Lady is not a submarine. I can’t afford a distraction like this.”

  “Aye,” Skip said. He had been listening quietly for a bit but now he looked up with a serious expression on his face, although his eyes were hazy with the effects of the alcohol. “That’s true. But Captain…Linden. We’ve all had mates. We’ve all lost them. But the memories we have… If I had to choose between saving you or keeping my memories of my time with Delilah, I would be sure to give you a nice burial afterwards. That’s what love is. You can’t ignore it. You can’t forget it. Whoever that kid is…you’re bound to him.”

  The other two nodded, and Linden felt their pain fill the air. The scent of it was sour, like off wine, and it unsettled him. He could practically see the ghosts of their loved ones hanging over them.

  Abruptly, he stood. Anger swelled in his chest, squaring his shoulders. “It’s not love,” he snapped. “He might be my mate but that doesn’t mean I feel anything towards him. I can’t. I don’t even know his name. If I ignore him, it will go away. Now, I’m tired. I actually did some damn work today unlike you lazy bastards.”

  “You’re a mean drunk,” Matteo said, looking a little hurt.

  Linden ignored him. He turned his back on all of them and stalked off towards his bedroom. He didn’t even bother to turn on the hallway light, as his wolf vision allowed him to see in the dark more than well enough. Pushing the door open, he climbed up into the bed fully-dressed and slumped down against the covers.

  Sleep seemed like it was going to evade him, but he badly needed it. Rolling onto his back, Linden squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on breathing deeply. The rhythm would rock him to sleep, as the waves often did when he was out on the boat.

  However, this night, something was different.

  He could feel a second set of breaths, a second pair of lungs. He could see a youthful face, relaxed in sleep. The boy, his eyelashes dark and long against soft cheeks.

  Though undoubtedly some sort of distance separated them, it was as though they were in the same room. Already he was being haunted.

  A long sigh escaped him, and he rolled onto his side and shut his mind down. The connection severed and he felt its loss even more acutely than he had felt its presence.

  This is exactly what I didn’t want, he thought angrily. Fate was being unfair, and now he didn’t even have the choice to escape it.

  Chapter 4

  “Good morning, Grandma.”

  Ash sat down next to his grandmother in her wheelchair, blocking out the fervor of the morning household. The sun had barely passed over the horizon ten minutes ago, and now the wolves were fighting over the showers and struggling to get dressed and find something to eat. Pancakes were cooking, eggs were being scrambled, and coffee was brewing; what would have been delicious on any other day turned Ash’s stomach as he thought of what he knew now.

  His grandmother peered at him from beneath heavy-lidded eyes as she sipped at her coffee through a straw. Her Parkinson’s left her with difficulty swallowing, which meant everything she drank had to be thickened with a special powder and then sipped through a straw. It hardly seemed to bother her. She still slugged coffee back like it was life-giving nectar and seemed to enjoy making a mess when she ate. One gnarled hand reached out to touch his hair.

  “My little one,” she crooned.

  Ash made himself smile for her. “That’s right. But—uh—do you remember…what you said yesterday morning? About being a prize to someone?”

  His grandmother stopped what she was doing mid-swallow. Her whole entire body seemed to freeze. Then, very slowly, she slid her lips off the straw and turned her head to regard him with a squint. “So, it finally happened, eh? Who is it, my littl
e Ashy?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted, lowering his voice. Though they were definitely not alone in the kitchen, everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth. News had traveled fast of his unconventional pairing, it seemed. It was almost as though word had traveled by thought instead of mouth. “I don’t even know him. Just his name. I literally ran into him and…I don’t know. He’s intimidating and I don’t know anything about him. What the hell do I do?”

  “I’ll tell you what you do!” his grandmother suddenly said, her voice gaining a sort of liveliness that it hadn’t possessed in years. She tried to slap her hand down on the table and missed. “You go down there to that fishy-smelling town and you find out everything you can about him!”

  “But—”

  “No buts!” she said, wriggling around in her wheelchair and shooing at him with her hands. “It’s fate! It’s destiny! Clearly, that alpha…he was an alpha? Yes, that alpha has no idea what a prize you are! Go out there and make him notice you!”

  “Grandma…”

  Ash tried to protest. This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all! He’d been hoping that she would be a voice of reason and instruct him to be careful, or tell him that these things were sometimes false alarms.

  “No, no!” she said, scolding him and continuing to motion him away. “Go! Chase that man! I don’t want to see you again until he’s swept you off your feet and—”

  “Mom, that’s enough.”

  Bridgett was there, appearing at the old woman’s elbow before either of them noticed she was there. She looked a little disturbed, but hid it well enough so that only Ash noticed it. “There’s going to be plenty of time for that after we’ve gotten the house in order.”