by A. J. Stone
Chapter 7
Zeke
CLAIMING HIS OMEGA should have been a momentous occasion. Though it was their second coupling, the first had been driven by primal instinct. This time had been different. Passion and need had guided them, not forces beyond their control.
Given Marcel’s less-than-enthusiastic reaction to Zeke’s initial offer, he hadn’t expected his omega to turn into a pussy cat. But he had expected Marcel’s attitude to change.
Maybe he wouldn’t come completely around, but he should have been at least open to seeing Zeke again.
Instead, he’d reiterated that Zeke had no place in his life.
An empty house was not where Zeke wanted to be, so when he left Marcel’s place, he headed down the street. In a haze of misery that echoed with the beat of a false heart, he walked aimlessly. Drizzle fell from the clouds, an icy mixture that mirrored his feelings. A little while later, a sign on a window for drink specials caught his attention.
Alcohol would dull the pain.
He went into Petrichor and sat at the bar, his gaze downcast because he didn’t want to engage in conversation. His cash was gone, so he slapped a credit card on the counter.
That got the barkeep’s attention. “You want to run a tab?”
“Yes. Four shots of tequila. Keep them coming."
“Zeke?” Another barkeep appeared when the first had gone to fill his order.
Zeke looked up to find Chay staring at him. Chayton Sadler was Koren’s omega. Chay hadn’t been looking for a relationship, but he hadn’t fought his instincts, and he hadn’t rejected the love and devotion Koren offered. The pair had twin boys who were about six months old. They were blissfully happy.
Zeke wanted that with Marcel. He wanted it so badly, but the desire tasted bitter in his throat.
“Chay? I didn’t know you worked here.” He hadn’t known Chay worked at all. He’d wanted to be a stay-at-home dad.
He grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his brown eyes. “I help out every now and again. I end up working about one or two evenings a week. It’s nice to get out of the house and do my own thing.” He leaned closer. “And it gives Koren time alone with the boys. I’m sure I’ll come home to a mess, but they’ll have had fun, and that’s the important thing.”
Zeke reflected on Marcel’s assertion that he wouldn’t let him work. In reality, he’d encourage Marcel to do anything that made him happy. He’d support Marcel’s dreams.
The barkeeper returned with the shots, and Zeke downed them in quick succession. Those were replaced immediately, and Zeke made short work of round two.
Chay’s eyes widened. “Want to talk about it?”
Turning the last shot upside down, he grunted. “My omega is a dick.”
Wincing, Chay waved away the bartender who’d returned with two more shots. “That’s harsh.”
“It’s harsh that you won’t let me drink.” He whistled for the bartender to come back. “Ignore this one. Keep them coming. When I pass out, Chay can call someone to cart my sorry ass home.”
Zeke downed another shot, and when he reached for his tenth, Chay slapped his hand over the glass. “Why is your omega being a dick?”
Alcohol took a while to have an effect on him. Not only was he a large man, but his shifter blood filtered out the effects faster than normal. If he wanted to get wasted, he had to drink a lot of booze very quickly. Right now, he was pleasantly buzzed. That, combined with Chay’s sweet manner, made him more amenable to a conversation he didn’t want to have.
“He’s being a dick because he doesn’t want to be my omega. He thinks I’m going to make him give up his career to take care of me and our children.”
“Did you tell him that’s what you wanted?” Chay’s expression remained sympathetic.
“No. He came out of nowhere with that accusation.” Zeke picked up one of the shot glasses that didn’t have Chay’s hand over it, and he downed the contents. “I was nice to him. I gave him everything he asked for.”
“You’re talking about the settlement.” Chay removed the empty glasses, leaving Zeke with two.
“Yeah.” Zeke smiled at the memory of the first time he’d set eyes on Marcel. “He could have asked for so much more, and he knew it. But he only wanted what he needed to make it through to the next audition. I thought he was principled. I liked that about him.”
He followed with another shot.
Chay set a glass of water between them on the bar.
Zeke rejected it out of hand, the same way Marcel had rejected him.
“We both felt it.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, willing away the bleariness. “I was nice to him, and he rejected me. With every look, word, and action, he told me to stay away. So I did. Until he texted me.”
Chay nudged the water closer. “What did he text you?”
Zeke downed another shot. “Said he wanted furniture moved.”
He heard the slur in his words, but he only cared that his chest ached a little less.
“Did you move the furniture? Is that where you were this afternoon?”
“Yeah. He wants to dance in the dining room. We took out the table and stuff. Then he kissed me. We had sex, and then he kicked me out. He was wearing another man’s underwear.” He drank the last shot. “Just friends, my ass. Four more.”
Chay didn’t appear thrilled, but he poured four more shots of tequila, and he lined them up in front of Zeke. “Go slow. If you pass out, you’ll fall down and crack your thick skull open.”
“Marcel is the one with the thick skull. I think I’m the one with thin skin.” He barely knew the man, so why did his constant rejection hurt so fucking much?
“Alphas need love too. You’re all big and tough on the outside, but inside, you’re made of marshmallow fluff.” Chay closed his hand over Zeke’s fist. “Did he cheat on you?”
In order to cheat, there needed to be a relationship. Even so, Marcel had insisted he hadn’t been with another man. “I don’t fucking know.”
Zeke rubbed his eyes harder. Something nagged at him, a sense he’d noted something without noticing it.
“Hey, be careful.” Chay’s soft touch urged his hand away from his face. “You’re popping out a talon, there. You might scratch your eye out.”
By way of response, Zeke snatched up another shot and downed it. His throat must have been numb because it didn’t burn. At least something on him was immune to pain.
“So, to sum up — your omega doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you because he thinks you’re going to make him give up his dancing career?”
“Every time I see him, he acts like a complete asshole. He says mean things, and then he kisses me, and then he says more mean things. How can my dragon want to be with someone like that?” He drank another shot because his brain was still working too well.
“You liked him when you first met him, and Edgar said he was nice.”
Zeke snorted. “What the fuck does Edgar know? He likes everyone, and everyone likes him. Even Tito likes him, and Tito hates everyone who isn’t one of us.” He drank two shots for punctuation.
Chay took away the empty glasses and replaced them with four more. Koren had a good omega on his hands, one who knew when to stop arguing and give an alpha what he needed. Leaning on his elbows, Chay said, “Edgar isn’t a pushover. You’re family to him, and that means he’s going to be loyal to you no matter what. For that matter, I’m the same way. Dog people are like that.”
Blinking as he processed what Chay was trying to tell him, Zeke froze for a few moments. Then he snorted. “Poodles must be the assholes of the canine community.”
“They’re high-maintenance, they like a quiet and orderly environment, and they don’t react well when things don’t go the way they expect. He needs time to acclimate to your presence in his life.”
Zeke had been abiding by Marcel’s wish for him to stay away. “I don’t have a presence in his life.”
“We’ll work on changing that.” Chay gri
nned, but it was directed over Zeke’s shoulder.
Turning to find who merited a friendly greeting from his friend’s omega, Zeke saw Amaricio behind him. “Grange?” He leveled an accusation at Chay. “You weren’t supposed to call Amar until I passed out.”
“You’re not going to pass out. I’ve been giving you mostly water with a hint of tequila in shot glasses. You’ll thank me in the morning.” Chay snagged his hand. “Don’t be discouraged. He may be acting like a jerk, but I think he’s just terrified. Someone has hurt your omega, my friend, and he’s determined to not let it happen again. You’re going to have to figure out how to make him trust you.”
Zeke rose on wobbly legs. Amar’s arm came around his waist. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you home.”
His empty and lonely home was where he had lots of alcohol and no busybody omega to stop him from drinking it all. He went willingly.
Only Granger didn’t take him home. Zeke realized that in the elevator. His three-story brownstone didn’t have an elevator. “Hey—this is your building.”
“It is.”
The door to Granger’s apartment opened just after the elevator let them off. Edgar, Amar’s devoted omega, stood there with his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face.
“Fuck,” Zeke said. “We woke up the babies.”
Edgar let loose a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. “The babies are not yet asleep. It’s only seven o’clock. It is, however, much too early for you to be fall-down drunk.”
“I have a good reason.” Zeke meant to say that, but the convoluted slur that came out of his mouth didn’t match the intention.
Edgar opened the door wider. “Normally I wouldn’t let you around the kids in this state, but I think they’re too young to notice. They toddle around and fall down as well.”
“I haven’t fallen,” Zeke mumbled.
“That’s because I’m pretty much carrying you,” Grange supplied.
“I don’t want to be here.” Zeke surveyed the wreck of the living room, noting the three small persons running around wearing nothing but diapers. They yelled to one another in their unique, babbling language, and the mess of toys made the idea of navigating the room problematic, at best.
“Tough shit,” Granger said. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re like this, and Edgar needs help bathing the triplets.”
He blinked at his buddy. “You want a drunk guy to bathe your kids? I know nothing about kids, but that seems irresponsible.”
Edgar pointed to the sofa near the fireplace. “Put him there. I’ll make coffee.”
Zeke lurched forward, his first try at walking without support. “If you call me a cab, I’ll go home. I’m not fit company right now.”
“Sit down, Zeke. You’ll drink coffee, and Amar will make up the sofa bed in his office.” Edgar gave the order as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Peering at Granger, Zeke chuckled. “Who’s the boss around here?”
“You’ll learn soon enough not to argue with an omega in caretaker mode. Besides, he’s only making sure you’re okay, which is what I want. The orders might come from him, but he’s following my wishes.”
For the next hour, Zeke sat in the assigned chair, ignored the coffee, and listened to his friends put their children to bed. And he yearned for a similar bliss.
Morning found him in the same chair. He opened his eyes to find sunlight streaking through the tall windows. It didn’t hurt his head as much as he’d expected. Someone had thrown a blanket over him and reclined the chair so that he didn’t get a crick in his neck. They’d also removed his shoes and loosened his tie. Slowly he got to his feet, careful to avoid the stray toys that still littered the floor.
He freshened up in the bathroom. He was going to need to swing by his place to shower and change, but by the time he emerged, he was satisfied he didn’t look too much like he’d endured a rough night.
His nose took him to the kitchen, where he found Edgar hovering over delicious smells sizzling on the stove. Edgar smiled as Zeke entered his domain. “Good morning. Coffee is in the pot, and breakfast will be done in about ten minutes.”
Zeke’s stomach rumbled. “I don’t want to interrupt your morning. I’ll grab something at the bakery on my way to work.”
Edgar paused to level a firm look at Zeke. The blond patch over his eye ruined the effect. Rather than stern, he merely looked cute. “Ezekiel Lowry, you are not interrupting my morning. Pour yourself a mug of coffee, and tell me about all your troubles. I’m good at relationships.”
His sixth sense gave him a sinking feeling. “Chay already told you everything.” He was sure Chay had told everyone by now.
“He said Marcel isn’t playing nice.” Edgar spooned scrambled eggs onto a plate and added six sausage links to it. He set it in front of Zeke. “Is it a waste of time to give you fruit?”
“Yes.” Zeke liked fruit, just not for breakfast. It was a snack food. “Thank you. It smells great.”
Edgar set his hand on Zeke’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Chay. I think he’s reacting out of fear.”
He speared a sausage link. “I don’t know how to work with that. I’ve been charming, serious, funny, noncommittal, and angry. So far, he seems to like pushing my buttons and leading me on.”
“I don’t think he’s leading you on.” Edgar returned to the stove. “He’s fighting his omega nature, and that’s like trying to live your life as someone you’re not. It kills you from the inside.”
“What kills you from the inside?” Granger joined them. He planted a kiss on Edgar’s cheek and took the plate his omega handed to him.
“Not being true to yourself.”
Grange sat down and dug into his breakfast. “I take it you’re referring to Marcel?”
“Yes. The rest of us are enlightened.” Edgar sat down last. On his plate, he had less meat, but he’d included orange slices. “You need a plan. Kill him with kindness.”
“I tried being nice. He just turns into more of a dick.”
“That means you’re getting through to him.” Edgar pronounced his conclusion with a grin.
Zeke’s plate was clear, and so was his head. He sat back and sipped his coffee. “Edgar, I’m not going to play games with him, and we’re not going to solve this in one morning. Thank you for breakfast and for your friendship. It means a lot to have the two of you on my side.”
He stood.
Granger watched him closely. “Are you going to work?”
“I have to take Anshu to meet a Silver-Wing in Miami, so I probably won’t be in the office today.” With that, a toddler called out, and Zeke quietly excused himself.
The elevator opened on the ground floor, and Zeke couldn’t stop from thinking about Marcel as he exited. Less than a hundred yards away, his omega was probably asleep. The idea of Marcel, untroubled by what had happened between them, blissfully sleeping, bothered him. He wanted the omega to suffer for his actions the same way he was torturing Zeke. It wasn’t fair.
Life wasn’t fair, he knew, but that didn’t mean he would ever stop looking for things to work out in his favor.
With that thought in mind, he focused on the things he needed to do in order to accomplish everything on his agenda. First on the list was the need to shower. Then he needed to pick up Anshu, and there was no way they’d make it to the airport on time. He needed to delay the flight, and the ripple effect was going to mess up his plan for the whole day.
He slid his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts.
“Zeke?”
His dragon recognized Marcel’s voice before it registered in his consciousness. Mid-stride, Zeke paused. He lifted a brow at the omega, but he said nothing.
Heat darkened Marcel’s cheeks, giving them a hint of redness under his ebony skin. “I, um, I...” He gestured behind Zeke, in the general direction of his apartment. “Do you have a couple of minutes? I wanted to talk to you.”
Bruised and still lic
king his wounds from his last encounter with Marcel, Zeke resumed walking. “I don’t. If you need something, call my office. Someone there will take care of whatever you need.”
He dialed Tito. As the phone rang, he slid into the backseat of the car he’d called to pick him up. The opposite door opened, and Marcel got in. Zeke watched him for a moment, curious as to what new game Marcel had decided to play.
Then Tito answered, and he decided to ignore his unexpected guest.
“Ezekiel. What’s wrong?” Tito got right to the point. The time when Zeke might call his mentor for a social chat had passed.
“I’m running late. Can you pick up Anshu and bring him to my place?”
“Your flight leaves in an hour.”
“Two hours. I can make it.” He might not be able to make it, but he was sure as hell going to try. In the past month, he’d spent a lot of time brokering meetings between Anshu Bray, the last living dragon omega, and alphas from various tribes. He’d attempted to find a Sharp-Winged companion, but no alphas had clicked with Anshu. And, now that Zeke knew what it meant to find his omega, he wouldn’t let Anshu settle for anything less than the man he was meant to be with.
“With my help.” Smugness mixed with a hint of relief in Tito’s tone.
“Yes. Or I can call someone else, if you’re busy.”
While Anshu could call a ride and get himself to Zeke’s house—or to the airport—Zeke felt responsible for the omega he’d recently begun to think of as a friend. He’d prefer Anshu not have to do any of those things for himself.
It wasn’t that Zeke wanted Anshu for himself—now that he’d met Marcel, only that omega could complete him—but he wanted to show the omega the respect he deserved and what he should expect from his eventual mate.
“I’ll do it,” Tito said. “Be ready in thirty minutes.”
Next, he called his administrative assistant to go over a list of tasks that needed to be completed before the end of the day. Just because he wasn’t going to be in the office didn’t mean deadlines had moved.
Before he finished, the taxi pulled up in front of his three-story brownstone. It was in an older section of the city, and it had belonged to Tito at one time. When Zeke had moved to Verdance, he’d fallen in love with the place, and Tito had sold it to him at a steep discount.
