by Leta Blake
What would happen if he didn’t take them? Would he be so overcome by the pull of the imprint, the desire to be with his Érosgápe, that he’d do something insane? Would he climb out the window and race the many streets over to Oak Avenue to pound on Valendo Aman’s door until he was either allowed entrance or he made a spectacle of himself? Or the police came again?
He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching the pills in his fist. He let the sensation wash over him, the tug of desire, the need to mate and bond. Was it pain or pleasure? Was it both? It felt like an open wound, something that needed treatment, and the only salve was Vale’s presence.
Vale.
Who was he, anyway? What did Jason really know about him?
A professor.
A man with black hair (gray at the temples, according to Xan).
A man with moss-green eyes.
A voice that curled into Jason and gripped him hard, yet sweet.
But all of that wasn’t real. It was instinct and pheromones and imprinting.
Who was Vale? What kind of person? He’d been on his own a long time.
Vale wouldn’t be like some young omega straight out of Mont Juror. The kind of omega Jason had assumed would be his Érosgápe, and with whom the only obstacles to overcome would be potentially differing opinions on sports teams and vacation plans.
No, Vale would have life-sculpted opinions and unshared experiences Jason would need to reconcile.
Jason took one of the pills and washed it down. He waited a few minutes, curious how quickly it would take effect and if the smaller dosage would do anything at all. His gaze followed the shifting shadows of the tree limbs.
Somewhere on Oak Avenue was a man who was Jason’s.
A man he knew nothing about.
A man his parents saw as a threat.
The thrumming undercurrent of alpha instinct searched constantly.
(Where, where, where is he—he was right here last night—where has he gone?)
As the alpha quell kicked in, the urge dulled a little. Like turning the volume on Pater’s new radio down a notch. Did he really need all four pills? Was he such a slave to physiology that he needed to dial himself down four whole notches?
Maybe just one more.
Jason swallowed a second blue pill and then finished the glass of water.
He rolled from the bed and headed into the bathroom attached to his room. One door opened to the hallway and the other to his bedroom. He locked both, pissed, showered, and shaved.
He took his time, getting every last hair, even though his insides were shaking as a small plot grew in his mind. He knew the most important part of any plan was to have a desired outcome in mind, and his outcome was very simple: find out more about Valendo Aman.
Waiting for his parents to call Vale and make arrangements to meet, waiting for his father to uncover any dirt from the private investigator he’d no doubt engaged the night before, or waiting like a timid little bunny for a carefully arranged meeting with their lawyers and family present wasn’t going to give him the information he needed now.
There was really only one way to get that.
He straightened his blond hair into a neater flop on his forehead, wished for a layer of muscles he didn’t have, and then dressed quickly in the closest clothes at hand: khaki pants, a plain blue shirt, and sneakers.
Stepping back into his room, he made as little noise as possible. Then he crossed to the window, slid it open on oiled tracks, and crawled out onto the sloping roof just below, before slipping down the vine-covered trellis.
The soles of his shoes hit the ground with a whump and he was off, down the sidewalk, across the road, and heading north toward Oak Avenue and Valendo Aman.
He didn’t need an address. As cranked up as he was, he’d know his omega’s scent from five hundred feet away.
The alpha quell slipped through him gently, and he felt certain he’d be able to contain his impulses on half the dose his parents had left for him. Still, he’d tucked one of the additional pills in his pocket just to be safe.
As he walked, he admired the morning. The streets were freshly swept by the new trucks the city had bought to rustle and vacuum up debris. People hurried on their way to work or school, and it belatedly occurred to Jason that he was missing classes. He’d have to ask Xan for notes.
The latest fashion for bonded omegas was a gold circle pin on their collars, a sign to any wondering alpha eye that they weren’t available for a contract or surrogacy, nor for plain old sexy fun. Jason noted that some omegas wore the circle in gold, others in silver, and one wealthy omega wore a circle of diamonds on his well-starched dress shirt, tucked into a thick leather belt, and stylishly tailored trousers.
Jason nodded at the man as he walked by. He knew his pater wouldn’t wear one and found them offensive, but the thought drifted away as his eye caught on a bonded pair laughing by the bakery.
They were of the same cohort, obviously. Both dressed casually, like they were perhaps on vacation and had tumbled straight out of bed and into the city streets to procure the warm coffees currently steaming in their hands. They passed a white bag of sugared breads between them.
“My favorite!” the dark one cried, pulling out a gooey, cinnamon-scented loaf.
His alpha quivered with the implied praise and pulled his omega close, kissing his forehead. “Like I could forget.”
What was Vale’s favorite sweet? Or color? Where did he like to vacation?
Jason’s gut twisted, a strange panic pooling inside him. What if Vale didn’t like the shore? What if the cottage where Jason had spent most summers of his life was left abandoned in favor of adventurous trips to snow-covered mountain peaks and freezing-cold tents just to please a man he’s only just met?
Who was Vale? What was it about being Érosgápe that Jason felt so viscerally desperate to please him? What would he make Jason do?
He clenched his hands in fists and fought the whirl of emotion.
That’s what you’re going to find out, idiot. Calm down.
Oak Avenue was a nice street, though it was entirely middle class and average compared to the hulking, block-long structure in which his parents had made their home. Still, Vale’s house was outfitted nicely with a shaded front porch, a clean front walk, and a bushy abundance of overgrown garden peeking around from the back. The wood slats were painted a seaside blue, which soothed Jason’s panic about the cottage. A man who lived in the house the color of the ocean couldn’t hate it, surely?
There were broad windows on the front of the house, open to the cool morning air. The front door was painted an earthy brown and there was a long, narrow window beside it. To the side of the house was another window, also open, and one on the upper floor, too, with a breeze-blown white lace curtain billowing in and out of it.
But the back of the house stopped Jason’s creeping in its tracks. From the edge of the property, he could smell the scent of his omega’s skin on the breeze, and he took it in deeply. The windows along the back of the house were impressive and seemed to indicate that the garden had once been a place of pride. Now it was a mess, but a glorious one: red, yellow, and orange made a carpet on the ground, and the scent of crushed and dying roses mixed with Vale’s omega odor, until Jason thought he’d swoon with rich lust.
He steeled himself to step closer.
You should have knocked on the front door like a respectable person.
The thought hissed through his mind as he inched toward the windows at the back of the house, edging into the cover of the garden and stepping on rivers of mint that wafted perfume.
He wasn’t here to be a respectable person.
That’s what his parents were being on his behalf at home. They’d have their attorney contact Vale’s attorney, and they’d all meet in some tense, nondescript room, where they’d act like this was business and not so much more.
He was here to find out who Vale was on a primal level before the attorneys and the contracts got in the way.
The back windows were open, too, and he heard a voice as he crept in closer. The voice. Gritty with rage. Jason’s hackles went up. What was his omega so angry about? Who did he need to challenge?
“So I have to pay the price?”
Another voice drifted out to Jason, and he had to suppress a growl until he realized it was coming from the newfangled speakerphone on Vale’s very messy desk. Jason blinked, his hands shaking. This was Vale’s office. He was peering into Vale’s house.
Heaps of papers quivered in the breeze, held down by strategically placed books and coffee mugs. A leather sofa was strewn with a knitted blanket and a pillow, as though Vale had slept in the study instead of a bedroom. A wingback chair and bookcases filled the rest of the room, and charred ashes filled the fireplace.
Where was Vale?
“This isn’t a punishment,” the speakerphone rumbled, and Jason recognized Chancellor Rory’s voice. “It’s simply not possible for you to remain on campus as the uncontracted Érosgápe of an imprinted alpha. One wrong move from one of these young men could end very messily. You have to understand that. You’re old enough to have seen how violent things can get. Until you’ve contracted, consummated, and the bond is set, you can’t continue to work on campus.”
Vale launched up from the wingback chair, having been hidden by it before. He strode over to the desk and leaned against the edge near the speakerphone, both fists clenched. “What would you have me do? Starve?”
“While I have serious doubts you even need your income, due to your inheritance, your alpha is quite wealthy. The Sabels will never allow you to suffer monetarily. They’ll grant you a reasonable allowance, I’m sure.”
Vale’s pale cheeks went even paler, and Jason wanted to punch Chancellor Rory though he had no idea why. It was true that he would never allow Vale to endure any pain he could prevent.
“I am a grown man, used to taking care of myself. I don’t want charity.”
“It’s not charity, Vale. It’s your right as his omega.”
“I like my job, Rory. What do you not understand about that?”
“I understand it all too well. It’s unfortunate, but this is how it must be. Your position will be waiting for you when you’ve contracted and bonded, or he’s graduated, whichever comes first.”
“This is ridiculous! I can’t be shielded from alphas simply because it might upset him. There are thousands of alphas on the streets, Rory. All I have to do is go out of my house and there’ll be one right there in front of me.”
“Those alphas aren’t my charges. No one is going to sue me or have me jailed if Jason Sabel goes barbaric and beats them to a pulp. And most of those alphas on the streets are older, experienced, not so likely to make a misstep if you were to go into an unexpected heat—”
“I’m thirty-five years old! I’ve never had an unexpected heat in my life.”
“You’ve never been exposed to your alpha’s pheromones, either. It changes things.”
Vale’s breathing was ragged with distress, and Jason’s pulse thrummed.
“I’m sorry, Vale. I really am.” There was a pause, and when Vale didn’t fill it, Chancellor Rory went on. “I’ll have Jon Biers contact you for lesson plans and your current marks for the students. Truly, this doesn’t have to be so bad, old friend. Enjoy your vacation.”
“For two years?”
Vale flinched as Chancellor Rory snorted in astonishment. “So you plan to make him wait?”
“I don’t know the boy! I was in his presence for less than ten minutes yesterday afternoon. Do you expect me to fall on the ground and present myself to him at our first real meeting?”
“Some do.”
“Boys with other boys. Bright-eyed children with no pasts or planned futures except each other.”
“Oh, Vale.” Chancellor Rory sighed heavily. “Do you like the sound of a sabbatical better?”
“Not really.”
“Write some poems. Publish them. Take the time to know your alpha and yourself. The world will wait for you.”
Vale hung up the call, grabbed a round, flat paperweight from his desk, and threw it at the wall across from him with a harsh yell. The paperweight left a round welt deep in the coral-colored paint and landed on the floor with a loud thud.
“The world will wait?” Vale yelled. “Fuck you! I had a life, for fuck’s sake.”
Jason stared at his omega, mesmerized by the red heat flaring above his collarbones showing above his open collar.
Vale swung around, eyes blazing and dark hair sticking up wildly at his temples like he’d been tugging at it. His startled gasp was beautiful, like a taste of the noises still to come, one day—hopefully not two years from now.
Vale was going gray, Xan was right. But he was lean and tall, beautiful and strong. His green, soft-looking shirt made his eyes seem an even deeper shade of moss, and his black pants echoed his dark hair. He was stunning.
“I’ll call the police,” Vale whispered, staring at Jason wide-eyed and inching close to his desk again.
With a start, Jason realized Vale was staring directly at him, talking to him, and that his breath trembled with fear.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason said, putting his hands out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Stalking is illegal. Even between Érosgápe.” His hand was outstretched toward his telephone.
Jason’s breath hitched in his throat. Wolf-god, he was this man’s Érosgápe! It didn’t stop being stunning and breathtaking and screamingly surreal. “No,” he whispered. “I’m not stalking you.”
“Then what?”
“I…” Jason trailed off.
He’d come here to snoop. To try to figure out who Vale Aman was, but he hadn’t had a clear plan of action. He’d just known that he needed to see Vale again, to hear his voice, to see what his own senses and brain could tell him, and now he was so far in over his head, he didn’t know which way was up.
“Eavesdropping on private phone calls is also a crime.”
“I was…”
“You were?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“I’m sure you did.” Condescension poisoned the honey of his voice. “Your parents’ attorney called this morning already to make arrangements. That’s how it’s done, Jason.”
Jason.
He’d said his name. The shivering sibilance on the ‘S’ buzzed and burst at the base of Jason’s skull and filled him with sparks.
“Say my name again.”
Vale sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We should call your parents to come get you before this gets out of hand.”
The internal sparking bliss fizzled out, fireworks dulling to cold, floating ash.
“You didn’t want to see me,” Jason said aloud, the understanding coming along with the words. “I thought…”
What had he thought? He’d acted without much analysis, actually.
Vale let go of the bridge of his nose, and his arm fell limply at his side. “Of course I wanted to see you. I’m not immune to you, after all.” He lifted his hand to forestall any move on Jason’s part to crawl through the open window. “But this—coming here alone—is dangerous, Jason. And against protocol.”
“Protocol doesn’t tell us anything real about each other.”
“Real?”
“Yeah. Like…” He wracked his brain, looking for the words to explain. “You know I want to see you, but do you know why?”
“You’re driven by instinct to seek out the omega you’re imprinted on.”
“Yes! That’s exactly right! And do you know how terrifying that is? How strange I feel? Not myself, aching and shivery inside, desperate to please you, but I don’t even know you!”
He sounded insane, and he was giving it all away. A full deck of cards to be played against him at any time. That’s what this adventure was and he’d known it, deep down, from the start, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself, or to deny himself ho
pe.
Vale stared at him. His dark lashes lined his eyes with color, like the make-up some older omegas and alphas wore out to local jazz clubs. Jason had seen pictures of them in the society section of the papers. But Vale didn’t wear make-up. He was just naturally vibrant.
Or else his pheromones made him seem that way to Jason. Another thing he couldn’t truly know.
“You’re frightened?” Vale asked.
“Yeah!”
“Huh.” Vale’s mouth lifted at the edges, a bitter twist. “I admit I haven’t considered it from your point of view. It’s hard to be reminded of our animal natures. We like to believe we’re above it all. So intelligent. Guided only by our moral compasses, but really, deep down, we’re this.” He gestured between them. “The first heat does an amazing job of making that abundantly, terrifyingly clear to omegas. It makes sense that imprinting has the same effect on alphas.”
“I wanted to know something about you,” Jason whispered. “Something for myself. Not information given to me in a report from my father’s private investigator, or written into some contract.”
“You could have tried the phone. Your parents have my number. Or you could have asked the operator to connect you to me. There aren’t any other Valendo Amans in the city.”
“I needed to see you, too.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t remember what you looked like,” Jason confessed. “Not truly. The imprinting came on so fast. It was all sensation, and my mind couldn’t hold the whole of you.”
Vale lifted his arms. “And what do you think?”
Jason’s throat clenched. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m much older than you must have been expecting.”
“That doesn’t make you less perfect-looking to me.”
Vale smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the edges. “You’re sweet.”
“And what about me?” Jason lifted his arms wide like Vale had done. “Scrawny and just a kid. You must be disappointed.”
Vale swallowed hard and darted his glance away, toward the hole in the wall left by the paperweight. “You’re a handsome boy. I know you’ve looked in the mirror. You don’t need my reassurance.”