The Imposter Suite: Mpreg Omegaverse Romance (Pup's Creek Book 3)

by Arden Blair

  But, no. It was Byron all right. Real and in the flesh.

  And, oh, what flesh it was.

  The alpha hadn’t changed a bit. He was still as smoking hot as he’d ever been, with his thick black hair falling down to his shoulders, scruffy and tossed about from the motorcycle helmet he held in his right hand. His cheeks were still dusted with stubble, his broad shoulders still covered in a well-worn black leather jacket.

  A primal and horrible sensation twisted through Chase’s belly at the sight of the virile alpha. Was this what it felt like for the deer when the lion ripped into its belly?

  And he even had on leather motorcycle pants. Was it just an unwritten rule that an alpha in black leather on a bike was stupidly hot? From where he stood, it didn’t look like the past decade had softened the alpha one bit. Chase could still remember his father’s snicker when he brought Byron home for a weekend right before the semester ended. He’d patted Chase on the shoulder and murmured something about counting the silver after they left.

  It looked like that dangerous edge Chase had found so attractive hadn’t dulled at all in the last decade.

  That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Chase might be trying to keep his hormones in check as he looked over his old alpha, but that didn’t mean Byron would have the same reaction to him.

  And why was he here in the first place? Byron Hardwick wasn’t the typical kind of guest who stayed at the Wishing Mill Inn. He certainly wasn’t dressed for the black tie grand re-opening party that was taking place in the next room. Had he come to find Chase?

  Of course, there was only one way to find out. After all, they were standing in the same small lobby. It wasn’t as if Chase could hide. Byron was going to turn his head and notice him eventually.

  Chase’s political instincts kicked in. Better to try to control the situation from the outset than try to spin it later.

  He stepped forward, his hand held out straight in front of him. “Hello. I’m Chase Moore. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He spoke very word slowly and deliberately, praying that Byron caught the meaning behind them.

  We don’t know each other.

  Byron’s brows pulled together in a pinched frown the moment he focused on Chase’s face. His dark gaze hardened instantly, making it crystal clear that not only did Byron recognize him, but that he didn’t want to see Chase any more than Chase wanted to see him.

  For the longest second of Chase’s life, tense silence filled the air. Chase found he couldn’t breathe until the hard line of Byron’s lips parted and he said, “Nice to meet you.”

  He didn’t take Chase’s hand and shake it. He didn’t keep his eyes on him a moment more. Instead, he pointedly turned his attention back to the two other men in the lobby.

  Chase awkwardly clasped his hands behind him and watched as Byron wrapped his arms around the other omega. He bit into wall of his cheek as Byron reached out, put a gentle hand on the omega’s rounded belly, and smiled, the expression so soft and sincere that Chase felt like a fool.

  It was obvious that Byron hadn’t tracked him down. He wasn’t here to ruin his life. He was here because he knew Levi, the town’s newest resident.

  Levi was newly mated to Drew Burke, owner of The Wishing Mill Inn—a cornerstone of the town that had fallen into disrepair over the last few years. But then Levi had swept into town and fixed up both the inn and Drew’s heart. They even had a baby on the way…any day now, going by the size of Levi’s belly.

  Chase kept his practiced smile steady and straight as Levi introduced Byron to his mate.

  “We should really get into the party,” Drew said after shaking Byron’s hand. “I’m sure the guests are sick of waiting for us. I’m guessing that’s why they sent you out, Chase.”

  “I volunteered,” he said. “And it wasn’t the guests as much as the kitchen staff. They’re worried the champagne will run out before you make your official toast if you don’t get in there soon.”

  Levi raised a brow. “Is everyone tipsy already?”

  “Some are,” Chase replied. “The rest are downright drunk. I should have warned you against giving away free booze in this town.”

  “Well, it was sweet of you to help out the kitchen staff,” Levi said.

  Chase waved his hand dismissively. “It’s got nothing to do with sweetness. All the interesting stuff happens in the kitchen. Plus, it’s the only place you’re guaranteed food. I’ve been to enough gatherings in Pup’s Creek to know that the best appetizers never even make it out of the kitchen,” he said, only half joking.

  Levi turned to Byron, looking up at the towering alpha. “Didn’t I tell you we had the best people in this town? Even the mayor is funny.”

  His old lover’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the word mayor. Chase watched as Byron’s chest expanded with a long, deep breath. Byron knew better than anyone in the whole world what that one word meant to him. He knew how many of Chase’s dreams were wrapped up in it, and how many sacrifices he must have made to get to this point.

  Omega politicians were incredibly rare. The belief that omegas were too flighty and indecisive to make decisions without an alpha was still a common one. The discrimination was difficult to combat. Chase had worked damned hard over the years to get this far…only to end up praying some biker from his past wasn’t about to ruin everything with a casual word.

  “He certainly is,” Byron said, his voice deep and annoyingly sexy as ever. Chase felt the familiar hot ache of desire roiling through him, making his breath lodge in his throat.

  Oh, this was bad.

  He should have known better than to get this close to Byron. Close enough to catch his scent. To feel the heat rolling off his body. To see the intensity in his dark gaze.

  This was how his body reacted to Byron. This was how it always had reacted. It didn’t matter that a full decade had passed. All Chase had to do was come close to him, get right up into his space, and Chase would be consumed with lust, slick dripping down his thighs at how badly he needed the alpha inside him. As far as his instincts were concerned, his alpha had just arrived, and the urge to drop to his knees and worship his cock, or bend over and present his ass for his alpha’s pleasure, was almost all-consuming.

  But fuck that.

  Chase Moore was a highly competent, well-respected, overachieving omega who didn’t present his ass to anyone, thank you very much.

  He shook himself back into the moment and snapped his jaw shut. Chase straightened his slight shoulders and cocked his chin high. He wasn’t some lust-addled pup. He was the mayor. And even though there was a real possibility that his world was on the verge of falling apart, he wasn’t about to throw in the towel.

  He took a step back from Byron. A retreat. “Shall we go in, gentlemen?”

  Levi and Drew followed him toward the party but Byron stayed put.

  “I’ll be right in,” he said. “It’s been a long ride. I should probably wash some of the dust off before I meet your guests.”

  Byron turned his back and walked down a hallway before disappearing inside the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, and for the moment Chase felt like he could breathe again.

  He didn’t waste any time diving right back into the party of fifty or so residents who had shown up for the grand re-opening. Chase wasn’t five feet through the door before someone offered him another glass of champagne. Usually, he was careful to say no. But tonight was not a usual night. Tonight he’d swallow anything that promised to numb the twin terrors of dread and guilt swirling inside him.

  It didn’t help that everyone he passed in the crowd wanted to speak with him. Being the mayor of Pup’s Creek meant that there was always someone who wanted a moment of his time. Usually, it wasn’t important. They only wanted his opinion or to get his take on the typical small-town issues.

  Right now, everyone wanted to grill him about the Phantom Pooper—a dog that was leaving his business all over town. No one knew whose dog he was. No one knew if he was a stra
y on the loose or a pet whose owner had a score to settle. All they knew was that the forensic evidence pointed to a rather large canine with a very healthy appetite.

  “No, Mr. Crabtree, I can’t request additional police presence on the streets until the Phan—I mean, the dog is caught,” Chase said as he kept moving toward the back of the room.

  “And why not?” Mr. Crabtree demanded.

  “Because those powers are reserved for emergency situations only.”

  “And you don’t think this qualifies?”

  It took every ounce of restraint in Chase’s body not to laugh as Mr. Crabtree’s cheeks lit up red with indignation. “No, I don’t.”

  “Just wait until it’s your turn to clean one of those massive piles off your front porch. Bet you’ll be singing a different tune then.” Mr. Crabtree let out a loud harrumph before turning and stomping away.

  Chase leaned his back against the wall, grateful that he finally had a moment to himself…well, as much as someone could in a crowded party.

  “What you doin’ hiding back here?” a worn and slightly shaky voice asked at his side.

  It looked like he’d jinxed himself with the thought of quiet. Chase knew that voice too well. Everyone in Pup’s Creek did. It was Roscoe, one of the two old-timer omegas who spent their mornings printing the local paper and their afternoons camped out in front of the hardware store loading up on gossip for the next day’s edition.

  “Thought you were supposed to be up front with the Burkes,” Roscoe said.

  Chase didn’t let the old man’s gentle tone fool him. When it came to Roscoe and his partner Bailey, there was no such thing as an innocent question. The pair lived for gossip. They breathed it in like oxygen. Everyone in town knew that no one could dig up dirt like Roscoe and Bailey.

  “I’m not the one in the spotlight tonight, Roscoe,” Chase said through his permanent politician smile. “The Burkes have worked hard for this moment, and I’m happy to let them have it.”

  Roscoe shrugged and turned his attention back to the front of the room, where Levi wasted no time leading a toast to the Wishing Mill. Chase breathed a sigh of relief as everyone lifted their glasses…even Roscoe.

  If he was smart, he would stay for another couple of minutes before making his excuses and heading for the door. Byron might be in the bathroom now, but he wouldn’t stay in there forever. And Chase’s body had already proved what a traitor it could be. It wouldn’t matter if Byron kept every last one of his secrets if Chase started drooling all over him the moment he stepped in the room.

  And he couldn’t let that happen. Chase was one of only a few omegas in politics. More than that, he was one of only a handful who had been successful enough to be re-elected to multiple terms. And one of the reasons had been because Chase had been careful to keep his reputation spotless. Everyone knew that omegas were held to a different standard. All it would take was one whisper of impropriety, and everything he’d worked so hard for would crumble down around him.

  That’s why Chase went out of his way to make sure he didn’t have scandals. That there were no salacious rumors about his private life. He wasn’t about to give those who believed omegas shouldn’t be in politics any reason to say a single negative word about him.

  And what has all that virtuous living gotten you? a nasty voice inside him asked. A cold house and a nonexistent love life.

  Maybe that was why Chase was so hyper-aware of Byron. He felt the exact moment he stepped into the room. It was like a shockwave. The air changed. An electric tingle swept over his skin.

  Chase turned his head and found Byron, beer in hand, walking toward Levi and Drew all the way across the room.

  Chase forced his eyes down to the floor, and slumped his shoulders in attempt to make himself smaller. Too bad there was no way he could pull himself tight enough that he’d disappear from the room completely. He could, however, grab another glass of champagne off a passing tray.

  He knew that another drink wouldn’t solve his problems, but at this point it couldn’t make them any worse, either.

  Chase risked another glance toward Byron. He found the leather-clad alpha leaning against the wall, his eyes nowhere near Chase. Instead, they were fixed on Levi. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t exactly scowling, either. If anything, he seemed bored.

  It looked as if Chase had worried himself over nothing. After all, if Byron were going to cause a scene, he would have done it already. He would have called Chase out the moment he’d laid eyes on him. But he hadn’t. He was giving Chase all the space in the world….Almost like he couldn’t care less that his old lover was in the room.

  That was good, right? It meant Chase was off the hook.

  So, why was it a deep sense of sadness instead of relief that was surging through his veins?

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