Zeke's Reluctant Omega

by A. J. Stone

  He was elated to be part of the cast, but he was disappointed to have only landed a part as a dancer and choral singer.

  Some days the constant social demands of his housing arrangement were too much, and so Marcel found himself drawn to the park. It had a different energy, and though there were people all around, the trees absorbed much of the noise, giving the place a relaxing vibe. The tinkling splash of water from the fountain had a soothing cadence, and he could lean back on a bench and snooze in relative peace.

  On a Tuesday when he had the afternoon off, he found himself doing that exact thing. He set his backpack on the bench next to him. Because there was no real privacy where he was living, he kept his valuables with him—a small amount of cash, his identification, photos of his family, a novel he’d checked out of the library, and his favorite clothes. Big city dancers were vicious when it came to “borrowing” things from one another. Marcel was not willing to play those games.

  He crossed his arms and rested his chin on his chest. In moments, he was asleep. He started awake sometime later with the feeling that something wasn’t right. His backpack, which had been half on his lap, was gone.

  Jumping to his feet, he was on high alert. He scanned the scattered crowd for someone carrying his backpack. Across the park, he spotted a dark-haired man scurrying out the far gate.

  With a sudden bark—such things sometimes couldn’t be helped—he raced around the fountain, shouting for the thief to stop. Around him, people’s activities paused as he ran past them. They lifted their faces and looked.

  Marcel was fast. He imagined himself a handsome blur in the eyes of the human observers. The thief seemed unaware he was in Marcel’s crosshairs. Marcel leaped the last few feet, tackling the bandit to the ground.

  Well, that’s the way it should have happened. Instead, Marcel ended up with his arms around the man’s neck and his legs wrapped around the man’s waist. Given the distance and Marcel’s agitation, he hadn’t realized the large stature of the thief.

  The man twisted around, trying to dislodge Marcel. “What are you doing?” He growled, his whole chest vibrating with brutal intensity.

  “That’s my backpack. You stole my backpack!” Marcel shouted, hoping to attract the attention of the authorities.

  The man pried loose from Marcel’s hold and dropped him to the ground like a rancid sack of potatoes. He gazed down at Marcel, eyes narrowed to make his sharp features even more pointed. “That’s absurd. This is my bag.”

  “It’s not! It’s mine. It was on my lap, you snake!”

  The man heaved a sigh and regarded Marcel as if he was an annoying child. “We’re finished here.”

  He turned away, and red clouds of fury clouded Marcel’s brain. He ran at the robber, hitting him low enough to take him down. The pair tumbled onto the asphalt. In a shocking display of strength, the thief threw Marcel from his body and into the street. He hit the cement hard, bouncing on the unforgiving surface as white-hot pain streaked through his arm, tailbone, and ankle. Brakes screeched, and Marcel’s life flashed before his eyes.

  Moments later, hands were on his body. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but agony wouldn’t let him move. The woman hovering over him made a disapproving noise, and her gentle touch pinned his shoulder down. “Stay put. The ambulance is on its way.”

  “My backpack,” Marcel rasped. “He stole my backpack.”

  Chapter 2

  Zeke

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND why I’m here.” Amaricio Granger folded his hands over his flat stomach and pouted, if a six-and-a-half-foot tall alpha dragon shifter with an imposing and often ominous bearing could be described as pouting.

  As Head of Security for Draco International, Ezekiel Lowry knew why each person in the room was present. They were there because they had intimate knowledge of the project Tito Kaysar obsessed over, and they knew the nefarious lengths through which he would and had gone to make progress on said project. Almost a year ago, Kaysar had kidnapped Amar’s pregnant omega to perform experiments on him. Edgar was a rarity these days—an omega who actually conceived offspring with a dragon shifter.

  The fact that Edgar was a canine shifter bothered Kaysar—and a lot of other dragons—and so there had been no penalty for Tito’s actions because the High Council of Dragon Elders cared only about dragonkind. Edgar was collateral damage.

  When the High Council released Tito, they’d tasked him with continuing his experiments. The only difference lay in the fact that he was required to get permission from the subject of the test before conducting any experiments.

  Tito had immediately thrust the task upon Koren Tafari, the brilliant scientist in charge of R&D. Koren himself had recently mated with a canine shifter, and the pair was now married. Koren’s omega, Chayton, had given birth to a litter of two a little over six months ago.

  “I want an update,” Tito explained. “Koren?”

  Amar got to his feet. “I’m not staying for this.”

  “You’ll sit down,” Tito ordered. As he was the CEO of Draco International, a leader in the Sharp-Winged Tribe, and he’d mentored each of the men in the room, his word was law.

  Amar didn’t bother to disguise his hatred for Tito or his disgust for the project as he resumed his seat.

  Koren, who hadn’t been happy about the assignment, shuffled through a folder full of papers he’d brought. Despite his initial distaste for the project, Koren’s scientific curiosity and common sense had helped him see the merit in the study. Though their friendship was solid, Amar had warned Koren neither he nor his family would participate in the research.

  In a brilliant, but evil, move, Tito had put Koren in charge of the project, not only because he was the smartest person any of them knew, but because he thought Koren might be able to convince Amar to change his mind.

  Instead, Koren had consented to using his omega and his children for the study. He came to the page he’d been looking for. “I’m finished sequencing all the DNA.”

  “That took a lot longer than I expected,” Tito noted.

  Koren pressed his lips together. He also resented Tito’s return. “I’m not a geneticist. I had to learn how to use all the equipment, and sequencing the unknown takes longer than sequencing something already widely available to the scientific community.”

  “Plus he had to learn genetics,” Eli added. As VP of Marketing, Eli Dionicio held an ambiguous position in the company that allowed him to monitor public perception of dragons and keep ahead of anyone or anything that might threaten to expose them to the world. In the digital age, this had become an increasingly difficult job, and Eli had become a master of disinformation.

  He was a good friend, someone who’d always looked out for Zeke.

  “Not many people can learn an entirely new field of study in six months.” Zeke spoke up to defend Koren as well because he knew Amar would not. He was still too angry about what happened to Edgar to care about the bigger picture.

  Koren wasn’t jazzed about it either, but he wanted to know if there would be problems down the road for his children. As a general rule, shifters of all breeds didn’t shift until puberty, and so they had no clues as to how the children would develop or what they’d shift into.

  Tito wasn’t a stupid man. Nobody rose to his level of power and prestige without understanding how to read a room. He knew none of them trusted him in the least, just as he knew they wouldn’t suddenly stage a coup. If they did, the High Council would gather troops to assassinate every last one of the insurgents. If they were going to win this, they had to play Kaysar’s game.

  Ignoring everything else, he gestured toward Koren. “Tafari, continue.”

  “The sequencing is complete. I’m in the process of comparing parent and offspring DNA to identify differences.”

  Amar‘s scowl darkened his already swarthy face. “You’re talking about your omega and your sons as if they’re not people, as if they mean nothing to you.”

  “They mean everything to m
e,” Koren returned quietly. “Which is why I’m doing this.”

  This was an old argument. Koren maintained knowledge was power, and Amar didn’t want that kind of power anywhere near Kaysar.

  Zeke didn’t know what Koren was holding back from Kaysar, but he knew his friend wasn’t about to spill his guts. The knowledge he shared would be strategic, and whatever he kept back would be enough to keep Kaysar from gaining more power.

  Rather than debate with Amar, Koren continued the debrief. “It would be helpful if I had a larger sample size. Anshu Bray of the Ice-Breather Tribe has sequenced DNA from dozens of shifter species. I’d like access to his data.”

  Tito considered this carefully. “I’m not sure I can get what you need. Granger torched that bridge pretty thoroughly when he rejected Anshu as a mate. Even if I could get my counterpart at Gliding Principles to agree, I’m not sure Bray wouldn’t destroy the information rather than hand it over.”

  Koren cleared his throat. “There is a way of appealing to Anshu directly.”

  Dread tickled Zeke’s protective instincts, the same ones that had helped him rise to Head of Security in ten short years. He devoted the entirety of his attention to Koren.

  “He wants an alpha. I’m not sure if he’s looking to get married or just get laid, but Anshu Bray, the only dragon omega we know about, is a virgin. None of the alphas in the Ice-Breather Tribe have shown an interest in him.” Koren followed up with an ironic, dry chuckle.

  Zeke stared. “Are you saying you want me to procure a sexual partner for him in order to persuade him to share years of meticulous research?”

  Koren lifted a shoulder. “It’s an idea.”

  “Wait,” Amar said. “Are you saying Bray isn’t in high demand among the Ice-Breathers? That’s insane. They have the only dragon omega in the world. You’d think they’d be lining up and begging for a chance to be his mate.”

  “You didn’t,” Eli pointed out. “He went all the way to South America to marry you, without having met you, and you rejected him outright.”

  “I had an omega,” Amar growled. “There are plenty of unattached alphas available.”

  “Yes,” Kaysar interrupted. “At the time, I was unaware of your liaison, otherwise I might have chosen Eli or Ezekiel.”

  “Why not you?” Zeke challenged Kaysar. “You’re unattached. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you with anyone, not even for a casual date.”

  Tito pressed his lips together, and his expression closed off. He wasn’t going to answer.

  “Are you too good for the last omega on Earth?” Zeke pressed. “If he’s so valuable a commodity, why don’t you want him? Think of the power and prestige that would come from possibly siring other omegas.”

  “He’s heterosexual.” Though it was a guess—because none of them had proof—Koren spoke with quiet authority. “He doesn’t find men attractive. He likes the ladies.”

  “Huh,” Eli said. “That explains a lot.”

  Amar’s eyes glittered with amusement, but he said nothing.

  Shifters, as a rule, were homosexual. Men mated with men, and women mated with women. That was the natural order of things. Few were bisexual, and even fewer were heterosexual. It was a curious development.

  “Holy shit.” Koren’s eyes widened. “I just realized I have seen you on dates. When I’ve seen you out with a woman, I’ve always assumed they were friends—but they weren’t, were they? And there was that one you went out with for two years.”

  Understanding that cornering Tito wasn’t a good idea, Zeke tried to resume control of the conversation. “Tito, it’s okay, you know. It’s modern times. You don’t have to live in the closet anymore. You can be open about your sexuality. We won’t judge you on that.”

  “Yeah.” Amar’s deep voice amplified Zeke’s assurance. “There are so many other things to judge you about.”

  At that moment, Zeke’s work cell buzzed. Though he had no intention of answering, he liked to know who made demands on his time. The display showed Armon from HR. He let it go to voicemail.

  Immediately, it buzzed again, this time with a text. Call immed. Emergency. Need you.

  Zeke got up and went to a corner of the room to return the call. “Armon, what’s going on?”

  Armon’s explanation came in a breathy rush. “Zane Velan called. I looked him up, but he doesn’t work for DI. He said to tell you that he was in jail in Verdance, and someone needs to bail him out. I wasn’t going to interrupt your meeting, but then someone named Antares called. He said that he was Mr. Kaysar’s boss, and I was to immediately take care of Mr. Velan’s situation. I don’t know who these people are, but I didn’t want to lose my job. So I called security, and they said I had to talk to you.”

  Bailing random people out of jail wasn’t in Zeke’s official job description, but as Head of Security, he was somewhat of a fixer for the Sharp-Winged Tribe. Zane Velan was the attorney who’d presented the case for keeping Tito Kaysar behind bars. Officially he worked for the High Council, and all Sharp-Winged dragons answered to their governing body.

  He had no choice but to post bail for the attorney. “I’ll take care of it, Armon. Thanks for letting me know.”

  The noise level of the conversation in the room was rising. Zeke rushed to handle the situation at hand.

  Koren slammed his folder shut. “You date shifters from other species and even humans, and you have the nerve to pretend outrage because Amar and I fell for canine shifters? That’s just wrong.”

  “Yep.” Amar’s eyes sparkled with irony and malice. “We can judge you for that too.”

  This was spiraling out of control. His friends had been waiting for a moment of vulnerability to pounce on Tito.

  “Enough,” Zeke decreed. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Tito, begin negotiations with Gliding Principles for access. Eli and Amar, start making a list of every unmated alpha we know, and then dig deeper for ones from other tribes, maybe the Fire-Breathers or the Silver-Winged. Get it to me ASAP.”

  Tito lifted a brow, probably at the idea Zeke—or any underling—would assign him a task.

  “Just do it,” Zeke said. “Or rescind your order for Koren to complete this project.”

  Amar sat up straighter, and Koren’s gaze dropped.

  “No,” Tito said. “We’ll follow your plan.” He nodded to the group. “You have your assignments.”

  After he left, Zeke gathered his things.

  “Where are you off to?” Eli asked.

  “Jail.” He didn’t mince words, but he glanced at Koren. “Zane Velan has been arrested, and he’s sitting inside lockup right now. Want to come with me?”

  Zeke and Koren had gone to the trial to testify against Tito. Amar had been too emotionally involved, and so the High Council hadn’t wanted him as a witness, and Eli didn’t have more to add than Zeke or Koren. Therefore, Koren was the only other person in the room who’d met Zane.

  “Who is Zane Velan?” Eli asked.

  “Lawyer who argued against Tito being released.” Koren scooped up his folder. “I promised Chay I’d be home at a reasonable time, otherwise I’d go.”

  “I’ll go,” Amar volunteered. “I’d like to meet him. Edgar will understand.” He moved off to the other end of the room with his cell phone to inform his omega of the change in plans. Since dragons had excellent hearing, the distance afforded no additional privacy if anyone in the room wished to listen in. Respect for Amaricio was the only reason nobody went out of their way to overhear.

  At the police station, they were greeted by the Sergeant in charge. Marcie Mavensburg had been a mainstay at Verdance PD for forty years, and she knew why the executives from Draco International looked like they hadn’t aged a day. Though she was human, she was someone Zeke trusted. Her family had descended from the original settlers, a people who had originally been a servant class to the ruling dragons.

  Marcie’s hair should have been gray, but she was dedicated to being a redhead, so that was the colo
r she stuck by. She came out from behind the safety glass and hugged him. “Zeke Lowry, to what do I owe this honor?”

  He returned the hug, and kissed the top of her head. “A friend of ours was picked up earlier today, and I came down to see if I couldn’t straighten things out.”

  “Sure. Who is it?” Her eyes widened, and she threw out a guess. “Zane Velan?”

  “The same.”

  “He stole a backpack from a man, and then he assaulted the guy, throwing him into the street. He’s lucky the driver of the truck barreling down the road saw the human missile in time to stop, otherwise he’d be facing a murder-two charge.” Marcie sighed, her ample body heaving with the effort. “He’s from Chile, which makes him a flight risk. I don’t see the judge setting bail.”

  While Zeke tried to sort out the heap of information dumped on him, Amar stepped forward. “Hi, Marcie. It’s been a while, so you might not remember me, but I’m Amaricio Granger.”

  “I remember you.” She winked and pinched his cheek. “The shy one.”

  Zeke snorted at that. His friend might be reserved, but he was far from shy. “I don’t understand, Marcie. There has to be more to the story. Zane isn’t the kind of man who would do those things. Perhaps this man attacked Zane first, and he was just defending himself?”

  Marcie shrugged. “I don’t know anything more.”

  “Witness statements?” Zeke pressed.

  “You’re not a lawyer.” She admonished him for crossing a line.

  “No, but the more I know, the easier it will be for me to solve the problem.”

  This time, she snorted. “I know how you operate, Mr. Lowry. This man was minding his own business, napping on a bench after having lunch, when his backpack was stolen. He went after Mr. Velan, who still had the backpack, and he tried to take it back. I’m sure if he’d known why Mr. Velan is such a big fellow, he might have thought twice about acting alone.”