Camp Lake Omega

by Penelope Peters

  Camp Lake Omega

  by

  Penelope Peters

  Camp Lake Omega

  Jim Smith isn’t your average omega.

  My first alpha died after we’d been bonded for a week – since then, I’ve been living a quiet life sequestered in my parents’ house. Now I’ve got one last summer of freedom working as a camp counselor at Camp Lake Omega before they force me to settle down and find a mate. I’m going to wring every drop of fun from this summer that I can, no matter how bad of an idea he – I mean, it is!

  Zachary Ito isn’t your average alpha.

  I watched my father screw up one relationship after another. No way am I going to let myself fall under the influence of omega pheromones like he did. I’ve devoted my life to running Camp Alpha-by-the-Lake, hoping to teach young alphas how to respect and protect omegas instead of seeking to control and overpower them. There’s no room for fun in my life, no matter how intriguing he – I mean, it is!

  But one chance encounter at the beginning of the summer…

  …And neither Zachary nor Jim can get the other out of their heads – or out of their beds! When Jim’s biology puts not only himself but another counselor in danger – will Zachary be there to help him to safety?

  Camp Lake Omega is a stand-alone m/m omegaverse non-shifter romance with an HEA ending. All participants are well over the age of consent. The story contains runaway canoes, broken-down cabins, the possibility of bears, and a whole lot of glitter paint.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Links

  About the Author

  Also by Penelope Peters

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright Notice

  Chapter One

  Jim

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked my mother for what had to be the seventy-third time since we’d started driving that morning. My father and I had long since stopped acknowledging her worries, but my mom was stubborn. She wouldn’t stop voicing them until I came home at the end of the summer in one piece.

  Or dead in a body bag. That’s probably was what she thought would happen, anyway: her youngest baby, all alone in the woods for three months, unable to fend for himself.

  Well. All alone except for the hundred or so campers, a dozen camp counselors, and one camp director. But I was the only one related to my mother, so she wasn’t all that worried about them.

  “It’s just… Jim is so fragile right now.”

  I tried not to laugh – I really did. It didn’t work too well, especially when my dad started to join in.

  “Stop that,” my mother scolded the both of us. “Jim, laughter is completely inappropriate—”

  “Mom, I’ll be fine,” I said. I even meant it. “You know this place is totally safe, or you wouldn’t have sent me here for seven years running when I was a kid. I can’t stay in the city all summer, not again.”

  “We talked about this, Clarice,” my dad reminded her as he turned off the main road and onto the gravel path that led into the woods. “Jim’s twenty-one. He’s not a kid any longer and he’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s had a hard time the last three years – and he’s going to have to start living again sometime. Why shouldn’t he spend a few months somewhere he loved to be as a kid? You know he was happy here.”

  “It’s not the place, it’s the timing,” said my mother, still worrying. “Camp counselling for an entire summer?”

  The camp’s curved entryway loomed just ahead of us, exactly the same as it’d been the last time I’d attended five years ago. Hell, it was exactly the same as when my mom had attended, twenty-five years before that. The camp name was a horrible leftover from ages past, but it stuck in your head like glue.

  Camp Lake-Omega-in-the-Pines.

  A summer camp for omega boys and girls only, ages ten to sixteen, where they could swim, canoe, kayak, hike, run, make horrible bird houses out of balsa wood, attempt to shoot arrows at targets, and get bitten by every insect known to man. They’d eat awful camp food of dubious expiration dates, sing awful camp songs that never entirely left your memory, and sleep in awful camp cabins that perpetually smelled like moldy feet.

  I had the best summers of my life here, when I was a kid.

  And I was going to have the best summer of my life here, as the token omega counselor on staff.

  “It’ll be fine, Mom,” I assured her as we passed under the camp sign. “This is such a privilege – you know the rest of the counselors are all betas, they almost never have an omega on staff. I’m the only omega here, except for the campers themselves. After the parents leave today, the nearest alpha won’t be for miles. Nothing’s going to happen to me. They won’t let it.”

  “Think of the insurance nightmares,” added my father solemnly.

  “An omega harmed at an omega camp?” I agreed. “Scandal of infinite proportions.”

  “Might make the front page of USA Today,” said my father.

  “Oh,” scoffed my mother. “The two of you.”

  My father pulled the car up to a stop. As soon as I had unbuckled my seatbelt, I leaned forward and kissed my mother’s cheek. “You love us.”

  “I do, but right now I’m very glad you’re getting out of the car,” said my mother primly.

  I was still laughing when I stepped out of the car, which is why I immediately slipped on a patch of wet mud. It probably looked like one of those cartoon pratfalls, where the character’s arms and legs are flailing wildly as they try to keep balance. At least, it kind of felt like that to me, but then I landed right smack on my ass, and all I really felt then was the sharp sting of embarrassment. Also the mud. Not pleasant.

  “Need some help?”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, reaching up to take the offered hand. I didn’t really register it at the time; all I knew was the hand was big and tanned and had dark hairs on the back. And strong, because his fingers wrapped around my hand and had me up on my feet in half a second flat.

  And that’s how I found myself face to face with the tallest, broadest, best-smelling, handsomest alpha I had ever laid eyes on in my life. He was Asian, with clear skin and black hair so straight and fine it stood up on his head. He had an easy smile that showed white teeth, all straight except for his upper incisor, which was crooked. That just made him all the more charming.

  It was ridiculous what a stereotypical alpha he was: tall with wide shoulders and thick muscles, despite a slender build. He had a bit of stubble on his chin – I could see a place where the razor had missed. Plus, there was just something about the way he held himself, his shoulders back and his chest out, that said, I am an alpha, challenge me if you dare.

  “Hello,” he said, and Oh. My. God, his voice. It was deep and rich, and sounded almost as good as he smelled, which was like the best damn roast in the world cooking in the oven after you’d been outside working up a sweat and were starving. I wanted to lick him like a dripping ice cream cone on a summer’s day, climb him like the tallest tree in the woods, pull those clothes off him just to—

  “You must be one of Bob’s new counselors,” he said politely. Hearing his even tones was a mood-killer – not to mention a pretty stark reminder of my situation. When you spend most of your life watching alphas go all glassy-eyed when you show the least bit of interest in them, it’s completely disappointing the first time that you run into one who has no reaction whatsoever.

  I was totally into Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Adorable. And if I’d been any other omega – or if he’d met me three
years before – he’d have been leaning in closer, because he’d have known it. Now, though? Not a glimmer. Not a hint. Nothing to indicate he had any idea that I might like to get to know him better.

  I tried to swallow my disappointment as he kept talking. “Welcome to Camp Lake Omega. I’m sure you’ll have a good summer here. Bob is a great camp director, I’ve learned a lot from him.”

  “You’re… not working here, too?” I blurted out – and then wanted to kick myself for the obvious mistake. An alpha at Camp Lake Omega? God, my mother would shove me back in the car and drive me home herself.

  “No, no,” he assured me. “Bob’s just an old friend and mentor. We talk pretty frequently over the summer, but today was one of my last chances to stop by before the campers show up.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said, not sure if I was more relieved or disappointed. “I’m looking forward to this summer – counseling will make a nice change.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve camped before?”

  “You could say that,” I said dryly, just as my father slammed the car trunk.

  “Jim, do you know which cabin you’re in yet?”

  “No, but I suspect—”

  I might have been unable to exude those classic omega pheromones – but I sure could tell when the alphas around me kicked theirs up a notch, because suddenly the air was full of them as my father came around the side of the car and stood next to me.

  “Hello,” he said coolly. I tried not to roll my eyes or sigh in annoyance. “Didn’t expect to see an alpha here.”

  “Just passing through,” said the alpha smoothly.

  “And look, here’s the Smith family, I was beginning to worry you’d gotten lost!”

  And thus we were saved by the always cheerful camp director, Bob McPhail, who was coming toward us at a rapid clip. Tall-Dark-and-Delicious took a step back.

  “Been a few years,” said my father, glancing between Bob and the alpha. “Glad to see that nothing’s changed since we were last here.”

  “Five years ago, wasn’t it?” agreed Bob. “Nope, nothing’s changed at Camp Lake Omega. Well, there’s the new boat dock, but…”

  Bob wasn’t stupid; he followed my father’s gaze to the alpha still standing nearby. “Oh, I should introduce you. This is Zachary Ito – director of Camp Alpha-by-the-Lake.”

  My father’s face was frozen in a pleasant smile. “Camp Alpha—”

  “By-the-lake,” finished Zachary Ito for him.

  “Which lake?” asked my father, as polite as it was pointed.

  “This one,” said Zachary Ito, just as polite, if not as pointed. “We’re directly across – you can see us on a clear day.”

  Huh, I thought. Guess not everything’s exactly the same as when I was last here five years ago.

  “Uh-huh,” said my father, his face darkening a little bit.

  “Oh, no worries,” Bob hastened to say. “We’ve never had a problem with them since they opened their doors three ago. We barely see Mr. Ito, to tell the truth. He’s only here today because one of our canoes broke its mooring and floated across to them. He’s just here to return it.”

  “Yes,” said Zachary Ito. “And having done so, I’ll head back. Pleasure as always, Bob.”

  “Same here, Zach,” said Bob.

  I had to watch Zachary Ito leave. I mean, to make sure he actually left, right? Because he was an alpha. In a camp of omegas. Not because the view of his backside was particularly fabulous or anything.

  Even if it was.

  I spent the next week helping set up the camp for the incoming campers. I’d never given much thought to how much work goes into keeping a camp nice… or as nice as a bunch of cabins in the middle of nowhere can be. Let me tell you, there are things happening in wintertime when no one’s around that don’t bear repeating.

  Get it? Bear repeating?

  Yeah, I’m hysterical.

  Anyway, I spent a lot of that week getting to know my fellow counselors, in between scrubbing out the cabins and repairing mattresses. Like I said, they were all betas. They were all around my age, and omega counselors don’t come around very often, so they were all super curious about me.

  Only one of them had the guts to ask me anything, though.

  “So what’s the deal?” asked Justine, snapping her gum as we scrubbed out the showers.

  I knew what she meant, but I can be an asshole sometimes – no pun intended. “That’s what I’m wondering,” I agreed. “These are disgusting, you’d think there was an alpha orgy in here during the winter or something.”

  “Asshole,” said Justine, with absolutely no hint of irony. “Yeah, you heard me.”

  I decided to like Justine. Anyone who is going to be that brash about… well, anything, is pretty good in my book.

  “Why are you here instead of somewhere popping out babies?” Justine continued.

  “Omegas don’t pop out babies anymore,” I corrected her. “There’s been huge advances in medical science and now we have access to multiple types of birth control, which not only provide a way to avoid pregnancy but can also help regulate the length and frequency of heats the omega may have previously experienced prior to—”

  “Oh my God,” groaned Justine.

  I grinned at her. “I need another sponge.”

  Justine tossed one to me. She didn’t aim at my head, either. “I thought most omegas were bonded by the time they’re twenty.”

  I scrubbed for a minute. “Yeah. They are.”

  “And once they’re bonded, they don’t tend to work outside of the home. They definitely don’t work where they don’t have access to their alphas. Like as a camp counselor at a sleep-away summer camp.”

  “That’s generally true, yeah.”

  “But—”

  I sighed. “I was bonded, okay? For a week. He died.”

  I don’t talk about what happened to Kevin too often. It has a way of ending a conversation. Which I get – I mean, my mate died a week after we bonded. Most people don’t really know how to react to that.

  I’m sad about it – who wouldn’t be? – but most people expect me to be in mourning, and I’m… well, I’m not. Kevin was a nice guy, I liked him. Or I might have grown to like him. That’s the thing, I only knew him for a couple of weeks. Most bonded couples aren’t love matches – arranged bondings are so common that they’re taken for granted as the norm. Make sure your intended mate likes the same stuff, and time and pheromones will do the rest.

  But Kevin and I didn’t get enough of either, because he died and it was stupid and I was depressed and sad about it for a long time. I’d already figured out in the week we’d spent together that I was going to really like him. He and I got along great, and I had no doubt we’d have had a fantastic life together.

  I didn’t get to live that life, though. It was stolen. Truth is, I’m still pissed about it. I was pissed at Kevin too, for a while, but it wasn’t his fault. And it happened three years ago. How many people actually remember someone they only knew for a week or two, three years after they knew them?

  Not many. Me included. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if I missed Kevin… or the idea of Kevin.

  One thing was for sure. I missed the connection I’d had with him. Being able to be close to someone – and know they were just as close to me. I didn’t think I’d ever have that again.

  That’s hard to explain. It’s why I don’t usually bother. And sure enough, Justine was giving me the same expression everyone always did, accompanied by the words they always said:

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  The sympathy is always automatic. That’s what you say when you hear someone’s died. But I hadn’t known Kevin all that long; we’d barely finished our one and only estrus together when he just didn’t wake up one morning. It always felt like I was the one who ought to have done the apologizing.

  “Anyway,” I said, because the quickest way to get past it was to just get past it, “I’m in this weird limbo, because I’ve been b
onded, but I’m not bonded now. It’s kind of great, actually, except no one knows what the hell to do with me.”

  “So… summer camp,” said Justine.

  “Yup. Summer camp.”

  “Could you bond again?” asked Justine.

  “Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “My parents want me to try – but it’s tricky, you know? I’m not really putting out the same pheromones as an unbonded omega, so I don’t really attract alpha attention like I did before I was bonded. It’d have to be a super special alpha to notice me.”

  “’Cause there’s that alpha camp across the lake,” said Justine. I could hear the teasing tone creeping into her voice again. It was such a relief after the stilted sympathy that I grinned as I rolled my eyes.

  “Ugh, please. Masses of unwashed teenagers too horny for their own good, no thank you.”

  “Their director is pretty cute, though,” said Justine. “I might be a beta, but I’ve got eyes.”

  “He’s probably got an omega at home,” I pointed out. “No way does Hottie McHot Alpha get up to his age and not end up bonded.”

  “I don’t think he’s bonded,” said Justine, smugly. When I sat up on my haunches and looked at her, she shrugged. “I’m just saying – I’ve seen him at the bars every so often. The guy’s got eyes, too. Bonded alphas don’t hang at bars making eyes at betas.”

  That was one of the advantages of being an alpha or omega in a bond – it was basically impossible to cheat on your bonded partner. The thing about bonding, it ties you together. A bonded alpha literally will not able to get it up for anyone but his or her partner; a bonded omega closes up tighter than Fort Knox faced with… um, I don’t know, the Evil League of Super Evil People.

  (Unless the Evil League is headed by Neil Patrick Harris in his Dr. Horrible outfit. And I’m Fort Knox. I’m just saying.)

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, concentrating on a really tricky – read: disgusting – bit of grime in the shower stall. “I’m not looking to bond again.”

  “Okay,” said Justine.

  “I am here at Camp Lake Omega to spend my summer in restful relaxation, surrounded by non-intrusive omegas and betas so that when I finally re-enter the bonding pool in September, I’ll be ready to find a new mate and bond with them, without any lingering regret about the past.”