by Eileen Glass
Though it’s too late to do so without being seen, Rourke’s gut reaction is to take off running with him. Catch up, regroup, cry in humiliation. But the surprised face at the door isn’t Zachri. It’s the same man with cherry hair from yesterday.
“Uh. Hello.” Rourke stares at him dumbly, his tongue swallowed. Then his phone dings, making Rourke dig it out of his pocket in a panic. The notification screen is lit up with several emojis from his new ‘friend’. Smiley face, party hat. Heart. Kissing. Rolling with laughter.
“Who is it?” says a familiar, soft voice behind the man. “Rourke?”
“Yeah, that’s me…” he says in a small voice, only to realize how dumb it sounds in the moment after. The ego part of his soul just dies then. It’s all over, so there’s no point in saving himself. “Hey. Hi…”
Cherry-haired man breaks out in a smirk. But his tone remains respectful as he addresses his teacher, bowing his head to Zachri.
“Thank you for making me understand. I will study for the assignment.” He nods to Rourke as well, acknowledging him as, “Omega,” before slipping out of the way and continuing down the hall.
Zachri looks only perplexed, regarding Rourke with blinking eyes. Heaven help him, but despite being embarrassed and shy… Rourke can forget all that and just think about how nice he looks. He could even use the word beautiful except that seems more appropriate for a girl. His hair is slightly misplaced like in his photo, not so ironed straight like when they met. He’s wearing another gray suit, but the jacket is off and his shirt is loose, slightly wrinkled from the day, the top buttons undone.
He’s less formal, and that’s a good thing. If Rourke’s imagination had its way, he would run into the alpha now instead of away from him now. He would hug him and snuggle into his shirt, the fabric smooth against his fever-heated cheeks.
Which is so weird, and this is an alpha, what the hell is wrong with him?
He ducks his head and hunches his shoulders, in a clumsier bow than the student did.
“I’m—I’m sorry. For surprising you. Um…” I’ll go now. But the alpha is striding towards him, his shoes appearing under Rourke’s vision, his body oh so close.
The arms coming over him feel so right. He meets Zachri’s gaze briefly, wanting to say something, but the emotion doesn’t find words of want and relief combined. He pulls Rourke into his office and closes the door, keeping his arms around him.
I can hug him if I like.
But Rourke curls his fingers instead. He’s not sure if it’s safe. By his creased brow, he seems slightly mad.
“Where is your case handler? The girl, Stephanie.” His tone is lower on her name.
“I’m sorry, I came alone. Uh, don’t be mad at her, she doesn’t know.”
“She’s responsible for you at all times.” Rourke is guided beside a chair and the alpha’s arms drift off as the man goes to the computer behind his desk. There is much focused clicking, then typing with harsh strokes as he stoops near the screen.
“No, don’t.” Before logic can kick in and remind him that alphas are legalized murderers—one of the terms invented by the people of Rourke’s city—he reaches across the desk and grabs Zachri’s hand off the keyboard.
His eyes become huge as he realizes what he’s done, the alpha’s stern gaze shifting from the screen to him in less than a second.
“I-I…” He stumbles into the chair behind him and closely manages to sit down instead of tumbling over it. By the time his seat hits the cushion, Zachri is back with him, having come around the desk so fast his movements seem weightless and cross greater distance than walking alone could have done.
“You are frightened.” His nostrils flare. A hand touches his hair, and Zachri’s face comes very close to his. “Be at ease, Rourke. Why would I be mad at you?”
“Um. I came here. On my own.” Rourke has him distracted though. He stopped in the middle of typing. And if he isn’t mad, then Rourke can keep him on this side of the desk and maybe prevent Stephanie from getting in trouble. “Nice school by the way. So, uh, you work here, huh?”
His voice is squeakier than usual, but at least it’s a feasible attempt at small talk. It seems to be working, Zachri’s features easing. He doesn’t quite smile, but something happens in his eyes that makes Rourke think he isn’t such a serious guy all the time.
“This is where I teach. And others teach under me.” He backs away, gesturing at the room. “What do you think of the decor? I tried to make it look like an authentic human office.”
Rourke wonders what the alien offices look like, eyeing this one with new interest for something out of place. There’s nothing. He has framed diplomas on the wall, his name always followed by the same squiggles and number. His signature is just his first name though.
There’s nothing particularly interesting about his shelves except that he has a sailboat in a bottle. Has an alien even been on a sailboat? The globe can be explained, but the old-fashioned spyglass? This looks more like a picture of what an office should be, from a magazine or something.
“I-it looks perfect,” Rourke says, his tongue tripping. Casual conversation with an alpha. Check. Now to get to the whole impregnating bit…
His courage withers. He has to keep him talking though, that’s the first step. Just like dating.
“Everything here has been really nice so far.” Appreciation to your overlord seems necessary. A grateful attitude should go a long way.
“But different than Earth,” Zachri says, taking a relaxed position against the desk. He seems to have forgotten the computer, so that’s the working.
The rest is up to me.
Not that he plans to get in Zachri’s pants right away, but getting the alpha to like him should go a long way.
“Do you miss your home, Rourke?”
“No way.” His voice is hollow, but he carries on without an uncertain halt. “My new place is amazing. Great views. And so much space.” That’s what he hates about it, actually. “The living room is like my entire apartment on Earth. It’s great.”
“Hm. That is good. But you have made your way to me in a desperate attempt to escape.”
Rourke reaches around himself like he’s cold.
“That is unusual. Omegas are very reluctant to venture off their grounds for several weeks. You have an adjustment phase. Getting over your discomfort to find me would take considerable effort. So why have you come, Rourke?”
He sounds like a documentary voice reciting a fact.
“Um, well, it’s like this…” Rourke tells him about Thomas and dinner. He has to amend the part about getting pregnant, using the words ‘wanted to see you’ instead. “But you know, we really should have called or texted instead. I feel bad about interrupting your day. I, uh, didn’t realize alphas have regular jobs.”
Then he remembers what Thomas said when he heard Rourke’s apartment number. Must be someone pretty important.
“So, the teacher’s salary isn’t bad, huh?” he says with a nervous chuckle. Certainly, no human teacher could afford his auction price.
Zachri smiles and Rourke thinks this small talk thing might be working, though the expression is just a slight movement with his lips. The cherry-guy was much more expressive.
“It isn’t a regular job. Alphas are paid equally regardless of what we do. My students do often gift me with extra ‘salary’ though for the important topic that I teach. It is common in my culture to give your wealth to others until you are worthy.”
“That seems nice of them.” Rourke wishes that didn’t sound so sarcastic. It’s hard to pretend right now though that he doesn’t know where this wealth comes from. He and Cory saw it every two weeks off their paycheck. It’s just TAX. No explanation given, no Earth government claiming it. The alphas get it all and decide where it goes. The percentage out of their earnings varies too, going up in times of natural disasters.
Fucking Asia has another goddamn earthquake, and WE pay for it, Cory complained last season.
And here Rourke is trying to be nice to one those ‘Alpha A-holes’. His expression feels superglued in the corners.
“Yes,” Zachri says, unaware. “I teach a very important subject here. I’ve studied it all my life. Learning about humans is all I’ve ever wanted to do, though I… put off finding an omega myself for some time.” He glances aside, in thought. “I have studied so much culture and concepts, especially the element of ‘free will’. I am solely responsible for a lot of the integration with the Omega Society and projects for New Earth.”
Hearing those words makes Rourke shudder inside. And not in a good way, though Zachri’s hair is quite distracting with the windows behind him casting warm light.
“I was not myself when I met you. I should have expected it because of how the auction affected me. But I did not. I thought, if anyone should provide a comfortable home for an omega, it should be me. But I was…” He frowns, wincing. “One of the worst.”
“That’s okay.”
So what if he has a little borrowed rage from all the humans the alphas have wronged?
Payback for humanity is beyond the scope of his little existence. He’s here to save his mother, not Earth. And ‘doing the deed’ doesn’t seem such a chore with Zachri being openly honest with him, his features seeming softer and less controlled by the minute.
“I assure you, it isn’t,” Zachri says. “As I speak to you, it is increasingly difficult not to take away your free will and ‘rape’ you.”
Rourke’s eyes widen. He scans Zachri for tension, anger, some sign that something dangerous is about to happen. But he still wears his slight smile and seems relaxed as ever. Both hands are on the desk, minding themselves where he’s propped.
“Well… yooouuu handle it well…” he says with a laugh that is not reciprocated.
“I assure you, I do not.”
Rourke’s dying chuckle is the only sound in an awkward silence. This is going to turn into another ‘event’ if Stephanie happens to burst in here, worried and protective. And what if Thomas comes back? He didn’t seem concerned about Zachri’s possible actions, maybe because of his glowing eyes and the power he seems to have with pregnancy, but Rourke can’t be so sure.
“And then I saw you at the park. Despite what happened, you had not taken any suppressants. You still aren’t, though you’re nearly in full heat with no alpha to relieve you.” His throat makes a little flex as he swallows. His voice is persistently pleasant though, opposite his words. “That is why Stephanie will be demoted to her original position back on Earth. You were her first case, and she’s made it into a disaster.”
“Wait. I was Stephanie’s promotion?”
He remembers vaguely that her—or her coworker—mentioned it regarding his auction.
“You were responsible for it, yes. And I sent her to you the moment she was out of training. Humans prefer the people they’ve met before. But this was a mistake. She hasn’t recognized that you’re in heat. Or if she has, she hasn’t taken any precautions.”
“I hid it from her.”
“Ah. Then you do not trust her. It will be noted on her record.”
He’s twisting toward the computer again, reaching behind him for the mouse. Rourke, thinking to distract him and not thinking at all, takes his hand away. This time he threads their fingers together and stands. He wants to kiss the alpha. That will distract him. But all his courage has turned to trembles and inner whimpers when he has the alpha’s attention.
“Please don’t. Um. I like Stephanie. I really, really like her. Just as friend… But yeah. I would feel terrible. It’s not her fault I didn’t take the pills.”
He’s going for it. Rourke leans in, pitching his lips to connect. But the monumental actions in his mind amount to very little change in physical position in real life. He fails before he begins, settling back on his heels, in his own space.
“Rourke…” The alpha’s eyes shut. His nostrils are wide as he inhales. His eyes open only partially as he collects Rourke’s other hand as well. Rourke stands very close to him now, and with Zachri propped on the desk, they’re the same height. Kissing would be easy. So says his mind to his quailing gut.
“It is difficult for me not to assure you by removing your free will. Our species are almost exactly alike. But where we differ is quite complex. We sense while you do not. We manipulate senses to make you safe, make you comfortable and assured. And, yes… also for mating. It would be cruel do so otherwise. But your kind see it as cruel our way.”
He’s using his documentary voice, which has a sultry quality. Rourke finds himself leaning in on his own, gravitating towards it. But Zachri puts their clasped hands to Rourke’s chest, stopping him from getting too close.
He’s still pleasant and relaxed as he explains, “Since you are not taking your pills, I will assume you’re still consenting to me. And I am allowed to dominate you so long as you are willing. But I have studied humans’ free will all my life, and I have learned many nuances of it.”
Standing, he lets go of Rourke and pushes on his shoulders, so he will sit. Rourke can do nothing now except watch him straighten from the desk and go around to his chair.
He clicks the mouse once, settles in, then addresses him.
“The courting period is quite important to omegas. You feel as if you cannot trust us with your bodies until you know our minds first. Explain to me why this is not an issue for you.”
Oh great. Could this get any worse? A guy who admittedly wants to rape him is now interviewing him ‘for the job’. Rourke palms his forehead before he can hide his reaction. He sinks in his chair.
“Rourke. Tell me your mind.”
His essay started with something like, Ever since I was a little boy, I dreamed of going to the Moon… Writing the words was cheesy enough. Now he has to recite them.
Zachri’s brow creases slightly. “Sharing thoughts is the most crucial aspect of human bonding.”
“I know, I know. I’m just…” Zachri has backed him into a corner. And Rourke wants this with him very much. It’s all for his mother, of course, but no other alpha will do. His emotions rebel against it, even with the sarcastic thought, I had to pick the teacher.
Another alpha might have been easier. But none are appealing like Zachri, and he must have seen hundreds over the last two days. Zachri stirs something in him. He’s all Rourke could think about last night.
So he’s got to bite the bullet and ‘share’.
“Ever since I was a little boy…”
Rourke recites the bit about walking home in the work evenings, looking up at the moon. Wondering what kind of men are there, and if they would want him. If he could join them. Then wanting a family. Specifically, wanting to hold a little bright haired baby in his arms, since Rourke figured maternal instincts would go a long way in the paper.
There’s no ‘why’ behind any of this, of course. He’s paper-thin reciting it, of such little substance that light from the windows must illuminate right through him.
He’s somewhere in page three. He figured a longer essay was more authentic than a shorter one, and he purposely tried to make it read like he got carried away in writing it. He’s in the part about appreciating alien technology and the little ways they’ve improved everything despite the violent history since their take over.
Medicine is excellent, which is the most truthful aspect of his spiel. He glossed over it quickly in the paper and does so again now.
Until Zachri holds up a hand to stop him. “Rourke, I read your paper. I know why you enlisted in the omega program.”
“You read it?” Rourke wilts, realizing what a mistake it was to try and recall the paper line for line.
“Yes. All prospective alphas have access to the essays before the auction. We don’t tell you this because we believe it’ll lead to dishonesty. We also don’t want the Omega Society priming you to earn more money from us.”
“Huh. Well. That’s…” Not right. But then, he signed several pape
rs surrendering all his human government rights, then a lot of things for proof of willingness in case his family presses charges for abduction.
Rourke doesn’t give a damn anyway. He only cares now because it’s made him look like an idiot and a fake for three minutes.
“It’s the money, isn’t it?” Zachri sighs, though it is nearly imperceptible, and he leans back in his chair. “Money is the common motivator humans.” His voice is ‘nature documentary’, but also dull and rote. “They did not have money on our home world, but we had a similar concept with energy. Yet, humans believe their money is evil and you shouldn’t mate for it, so many lie on their application. You were good to not get caught.”
It’s silly to be upset over an imagined loss of closeness. Rourke didn’t care when Thomas assumed money also. It was a simple explanation with a little truth. In his conversation with Thomas, it was just easier to leave his mother out of it. Why explain that the money isn’t for himself when it just as easily could be?
So leave it be. Let him think what he wants.
But Rourke leans forward, not liking Zachri’s distance nor the tone of the words he’s saying.
“Money is easier than energy,” he continues. “It has a perceived numerical value, which makes it easier to measure. Binding it to one currency seemed a failed logical step, however, until we arrived.”
“I didn’t do it for your money.” Rourke sounds almost mad for some reason. He doesn’t know himself what bothers him so much. He likes Zachri. He just doesn’t know why, and now he has to come up with a new fake reason that skirts the truth.
His mouth is going off to places faster than his brain can keep up.
“Not exactly. I mean, I don’t think I would have signed up for the omega program if I had to live in a shithole somewhere. So, I guess it’d be wrong to say I truly want to be breeder and money has nothing to do with it. But I wasn’t lying about wanting a baby…”
Ah! A reason. It all comes back to being a baby machine.