by Eileen Glass
But Zachri is an intelligent man. Rourke wants him very much. And he’s right, if they’re going to have a meaningful connection, he has to open up about some stuff.
Not all of it—that would backfire. The right words come to him in the moment, as he’s rubbing his knees, looking away at the corner of the room.
“My mom is dying. You might have read about her in my file? She’s not doing so good this year.” His eyes are itchy. It’s annoying that he has to touch them now, when he definitely can’t look like he’s crying. “She needs medicine and a better home. She has for a long time now, and I wish I’d done this sooner honestly. But also…”
Back to baby machine. Back to logic and making sense and not feeling anything. Whatever’s swirling in his chest can’t dare come out.
“I want to give her a grandchild. A pretty one,” he admits with a shrug. “You know, blue hair and all.”
He glances quickly to Zachri’s hair, which is beautiful and amazing. But also, the alpha’s eyes are intent and he’s sitting forward in his chair again. That makes it harder to speak, so Rourke keeps admiring the baseboards.
“He’s for me too.” Rourke purposely avoids using ‘it’. “I’m not just doing it for my mother.” Anymore. Apparently. “But it’s really important that we don’t wait a year. She doesn’t have that long, and I’d like her to see her grandchild as soon as possible. So she can be happy, you know?”
Zachri doesn’t answer his you know, and Rourke can’t take the silence much longer. He can’t bring himself to look at the other man. Since he hasn’t said anything, Rourke must have given him an insufficient answer.
He mumbles, “I have this image of my future. Me and an alpha. Uh, you, I guess. And our baby. And she’s there to visit us, holding him for the first time. We’re all happy.”
Now he’s going to die. If he was a boulder, he’d be in pieces already, split through his center.
“So… So that’s all.”
“Rourke…”
The tone makes him wince. It could be a soft let down. I’m sorry, but…
Or a piteous reply. That’s so sad.
It’s definitely not a sexy, Hey, I want that too. Let’s make it now. And when Rourke finally peels his gaze off the floor, the alpha isn’t smiling. He usual passive expression has a slight downturn of the lips.
Rourke digs his nails into the arms of the chair and glares. Not at the alpha, of course. But he’s mad. At himself.
Zachri wanted the man in the essay. Obviously. He bid on that person, and Rourke should have stuck to it. Nobody wants to have a baby for their mother, that’s stupid. He shouldn’t have said it like that.
And he shouldn’t have mentioned her dying. Why did he? That’s not sexy and alluring. At best, it might result in lousy pity sex.
“I am unsure how to respond,” Zachri says. Now he’s more like a robot than a voiceover. “My kind do not have strong emotional reactions naturally. Mating changes us. And no amount of training and courses truly prepares us for it. Thus, my poor behavior for our first meeting. I was taken aback.”
“Yeah, it seemed like it,” Rourke answers darkly. He can say whatever he wants now. At least that is weight off him.
Zachri sets his hands palms up on the desk, reaching for Rourke. Automatically, though he’d rather make an excuse and hide somewhere, Rourke gives them.
The alpha holds so tight. Not crushing, but it seems a fearful grip for such a calm man. For once, Rourke meets his eyes with curiosity instead of trepidation.
“It is difficult to assure you without overriding your free will. That’s how we do it, see. I sense you are upset, and I solve it. There is no permission, no guidance. So I own you. Control you.” He takes a deep breath. “We call this ‘loving’. It is how we take care of our mates, to make them always happy. But your species calls it slavery, and it is a concept I mostly understand. That is why I teach.”
Is it possible to find the one good alien alpha? Rourke wants him even more now.
“So be patient with me. I will take time to learn how to comfort the human way.”
“I like your way,” Rourke says, gripping just as tightly to his hands. “It seems easier. Do it.”
Zachri makes a soft amused snort.
“No. This is not the right place. And I would disgrace my own principles for claiming you here, and it would come to that. I am feeling extremely possessive, even if I am determined not to indulge.”
“That’s what I want! Hell, last time we were going to do it in a park!”
“Rourke. Do not tempt me.” The lowering of his gaze like a predator and the deep tone of his voice remind Rourke that Zachri is an alpha. He ducks his head and checks his tongue.
“You must understand,” Zachri says after a moment. “I am not one of the born. They have emotional responses and understand humans better than us because of their omega mothers. Did you notice the number on my nameplate?”
“Yes.”
“I am one of the original alphas who was awakened from stasis when we found Earth. I was put back in stasis when your kind revolted and it became apparent that we needed warriors and strategists, not anyone else. And I think you know about how ‘well’ that worked.”
He raises their joined hands and presses the back of Rourke’s to his cheek. The warm light gives his eyes a bedroom glow. Rourke’s mind is already there. He didn’t expect much enjoyment from that part of the contract, but Zachri is different than he expected. For him only, it would be amazing.
Zachri’s serious tone drags him out of the fantasy though.
“My type, the awoken, cannot be allowed to indulge in mistakes, Rourke. We are the oldest and the leaders of our kind. I don’t just teach. I set an example for the rest of the awoken waiting on the ship, who won’t get their chance if we do not adapt to your kind. It’s a law set by our alpha of alphas.”
“There’s… more? You mean, this isn’t all of you?”
Nobody in the resistance community has thought there might be more on the ship. And they have a lot of conspiracy theories. But surely the alphas wouldn’t let their people sleep while they were driven off Earth to the moon.
Yet, Zachri nods.
“All the unmated originals, plus countless others who’ve never woken up. Stasis is no different than death, as far as we know. There is no consciousness, no life.”
A knock on the door startles them both, making Rourke turn in his chair. The person only waits a moment before knocking again, urgently. Zachri releases his hands, standing.
“I know what we’re capable of, Rourke,” he says and gets the door.
Thomas is on the other side, peeking around. “Ah. I was hoping you’d be decent,” he says cheerfully. “Time to go, Rourke. Stephanie is losing her shit. She’s already called the guards.” He waves his phone, the screen lit up.
“Already called? Without even a request or a warning?” Zachri says. Rourke gets up to join them.
“Oh yeah. She’s pissed. And if Rourke doesn’t appear outside the University, calm and unmolested, she’s going to…” He reads off the screen, “Shoot you full of darts herself, ruin your life forever, and make sure you never touch an omega ever again. I’m paraphrasing mostly. I’m supposed to show you this official legalese.”
The screen he gives to Zachri has From the Alpha of Alphas in red on the top and Cease and Desist in bold letters. Paragraphs of text follow underneath.
“I better go then. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble. This probably wasn’t a good idea.”
Seeing Thomas brings the world back in. Everything he and Zachri said together seems oddly emotional and unnecessary, but he can’t take any of it back. If he could do it again, he wouldn’t say anything about his mother. He’d be better at small talk, praising all the moon gadgets and technology he’s seen.
Too late now, and he’s left with the task of awkwardly saying goodbye.
“Um, I’ll see you soon, I hope… Zachri.”
He makes a bow li
ke the student did.
Zachri hands the phone back and puts an arm around Rourke’s waist, catching him before he can step out.
“Soon, Rourke.” He dips his head, and Rourke is sure he’ll be kissed. His eyes widen and his lips part for it, but the alpha only comes close, their noses almost touching. Lower, his eyes drifting dreamily at the same time that he inhales, he says, “This meeting will be well. I will speak to Tobias, and your vision will be soon.”
“So, what’s he like?” Thomas asks, hitting the ground level button on the elevator.
“He was nice,” Rourke says. Leaving Zachri feels like stepping out of a hot shower into cold air, all the warmth and steam still there but a cool quickly taking over. He’d like to go back, but it’s not time yet. He gets that.
“Nice?” Thomas echoes, hitting the silence on his phone when it rings. “No details, Rourke? Did he kiss you at least? I expected to find you two locking lips when I went in. Thought I’d have to break down the door.” He laughs. “Given his possessiveness for your first meeting, I kind of thought you’d be bent over that desk!”
“No, we just talked.” Rourke puts his hands in his pockets and turns slightly away. Should they have done more? Is this a bad sign?
But Zachri didn’t leave much room for doubt when he left.
I have to trust him, I guess.
“Oh shit,” Thomas says, looking at his phone, which is still lighting up with missed calls and notifications. “Rourke, give me your phone.”
He’s already pawing Rourke’s pocket for it. And when Rourke takes it out, he sees that the screen is serenely dark. Thomas holds the power button on the side and the company logo animation plays, starting up. Which is odd because Rourke never turned it off.
“How did that happen?” he wonders aloud.
“Well, you were going to need some quiet for the romance to start,” Thomas says matter-of-factly, stepping off. Rourke follows, simultaneously scrolling through a long list of messages, both from his mom (I love you too, son) and from Stephanie.
Nothing from Cory still, which is a small note in his mind. He’ll send another message today, just to confirm that Cory is purposely ignoring him.
And from Stephanie, there’s a litany of Where are you? Rourke? I’m putting out a BOLO your phone. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!
And after that, there’s a few: ANSWER YOUR PHONE.
She’s called many times.
“I thought you said this wouldn’t be a big deal?” he tells Thomas.
“Oh, well, we’re not supposed to do it. Of course. I thought you knew that. Hey, slow down, Rourke, I’m not as fast as you.”
He was certainly fast at ditching Rourke earlier. Rourke slows down anyway, and Thomas grabs his arm as they start down some steep steps. Rourke scans to see if anyone will stare. They do, but it’s all alphas everywhere. So this is normal. Here.
“Great, I fucked everything up,” Rourke mumbles as they make their way down. “I hope Stephanie doesn’t get fired because of me.”
“Why would she?”
“She’s already in trouble, and Zachri was going to file a report on her.”
“Well, that’ll be funny because she’s going to file a dozen reports on him. He’s on a temporary ban, Rourke. She’s got leverage.”
Helping Thomas patiently down the steps conflicts with the urge to also yell at him.
“Thomas, you told me this would be alright! And now you’re saying I might have ruined my chances with him?!”
The heady surge of adrenaline is unnatural, unusual for him. His phone rings and the noise doesn’t help. He just barely stops himself from throwing it.
“I don’t feel right,” he says quickly, realizing he also wants to hurt. He wouldn’t—but he thinks about it, and he’s so furious…
“Easy there.” Safely on flat pavement again, Thomas puts a hand to his forehead, checking for a fever. “That’s Rambo mode. It’s like PMS for men, I guess. I dunno, I think we have it worse. Anyway, it means you’re done for. Tomorrow you’ll be in full heat is my guess.”
“Greeeat.” The sarcastic tone is a ruse. Like a huffing bull, Rourke wants to tear something apart. His chest swells with the urge to burst out yelling.
You told me it wouldn’t be a big deal! You took my phone! You got Zachri and Stephanie in trouble!
Thomas might not be a friend he wants to keep. One more laugh, one more stupid, cheerful comment, and he’ll leave him here.
But he doesn’t do anything about Thomas’s arm around him now. As always, Rourke manages a tight rein on his emotions. Somewhere, he knows that most of this rage is fueled by heat.
“They’re gonna give him to you now,” Thomas says, nodding to indicate the scene ahead.
Across the plaza, Stephanie is striding toward them with several dark-armored men, visors obscuring their faces. An alpha with purple hair is with her also. He looks more relaxed than her, but the straight way he walks and just something about him makes Rourke think he’s someone in charge, more so than the other alphas.
“The alphas are on our side, Rourke. Not the Omega Society. It’s like I said. Stephanie’s job is to make sure you get an eight-month courting period and all that crap. That guy’s name is Tobias, and when he senses your heat—that it’s too late to do anything about it—you’ll be hitched this weekend.”
Rourke doesn’t realize how closely Thomas speaks in his ear until his lips brush his lobe and Rourke shudders. He’s gazing at the alpha though. And thinking about him. He’d rather have Zachri, but he’s not feeling nearly as picky all of the sudden.
The man stops several paces away, his nostrils flaring. Rourke realizes everyone at the school has been giving them a careful berth, despite Thomas needing some help.
Stephanie marches toward them.
“I could just kill the two of you!” she hisses when she’s close enough that no one else will hear.
“Sorry, dear,” Thomas says, not sounding it. “But their meeting went well. Rourke, tell them. Not even kissing or anything! They’re definitely in love.” He throws Rourke a wink and lets him go, regaining his mobility and independence.
Rourke senses a pressure in his ears. Then a breeze, the first he’s felt on the moon, picks up. Between him and the man, the air opens into a dark portal.
“I’ll be taking the subway, thank you very much,” Thomas says loudly, going another way.
“It is safe,” the Tobias says, looking irritated.
“No thank you, though.”
Stephanie braces him. Approaching the portal is like stepping to the edge of a great pit. The closer Rourke gets, the ground starts to slide underneath him.
“I don’t like this,” Rourke says. His weight seems to tip with the sensation of falling.
“Trust me,” the alpha says, meeting his eyes, but Rourke doesn’t. He decides, fuck it, and turns around. But then the fear is gone. The smell of candy—licorice this time—is strong, and Rourke wants more of it.
“Into the portal please.”
Rourke feels heart rate coming down again. He’s almost sleepy. There’s a new scent in the air, like licorice. Tobias gives Rourke a small nod when their eyes meet, acknowledging his involvement.
Obeying isn’t so difficult anymore. His sight goes dark as he steps through the portal. He feels a wind and pulling like the descent on a roller coaster. And when it coasts to the bottom he’s in his apartment.
Everything smells different. Bland. The candy is gone though he's breathing heavily through his nose, trying to find it again. So the tension in his muscles will relax, his anger will ease, and his body can feel right again.
But no, he's pissed off. And also nauseous.
Rourke rolls onto his back, not bothering to get up. Thank god the portal is gone, whooshing out of existence as soon as it spit them out. He does wish Tobias would step through it though. Or Zachri.
A pointy high-heeled toe nudges him in the ribs. Stephanie stands over him with a stern judging him behind he
r square rim glasses like an angry librarian. Her hair is frayed, and she's not wearing lipstick. Rourke has never seen her so unkempt.
"Don't apologize to me. If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done it in the first place. Just don't piss me off anymore, okay?"
The heel to her shoe is dangerously close to his eye. But Rourke says nothing, nodding and slinging an arm over his face. Having his emotions come over him suddenly is like chugging a strong drink. It burns in his gut and makes him want to retch. Unlike a drink, however, there's no fading.
This is how it is all the time. It's how he’s felt sitting up at night, thinking about his mom and his responsibilities. Thinking about Cory and his damn baby and how his friend is moving on and his mother is leaving him.
"Rourke, are you listening to me?"
"Ugh." He curls onto his side. Somehow, despite all this, there's blood flow to his groin. Horny would be a bit of a stretch, but he wants to be touched. The floor feels good against his skin.
The bed is an awfully long way out.
"Well, good. I'm glad you've got portal sickness. Serves you right. Why'd you even let Thomas talk you into leaving anyway? You knew you were supposed to ask me. Hm, and I guess you knew I'd say no, too. But it's for your safety, Rourke, and we don't know if Zachri's got his shit together."
His phone dings inside his pocket, and then she's kneeling by his side, frisking him.
"Oh. It's just Thomas. That little brat... Hmph. Well, he's not little, is he?"
"Stephanie?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up." Rourke takes his phone back and hits the power down button. Normally, he'd just silence the damn thing, but he can't care to remember how.
Stephanie is quiet next to him, and Rourke knows he should feel bad. He does, a little bit. But more important than that, he needs to lay here until he can figure out his next move. Stephanie needs to be brought around to letting him see Zachri. Zachri needs... something... from him...
"Rourke, are you okay? You're mumbling."
"Hm?"
She picks up his head and puts him in her lap. He sighs because it's so nice here. Her polyester skirt feels nice. Her thighs are warm. Only his remaining shred of social decency keeps him from hugging her legs like a pillow.