Pain flickered across the alpha’s face for a moment before he shrugged it away. “Fine. I don’t care. Point is, I’m a cop. Little guys like you are supposed to respect cops. Omegas like you are supposed to respect alphas. Or am I going about this all wrong?”
Mickey opened his mouth to let out a scathing retort, but something suddenly stopped him. He took a closer look at Houston, and replayed the question in his mind. Was it possible that the alpha really had just asked him a question he wanted answered? Was it possible that this cop just wanted to communicate?
I can’t let my guard down, he told himself. “Look, would you show me all your baggage if I asked?”
Houston sighed and then shrugged again. “Probably not. Then again, mine isn’t very interesting compared to the guy who looks like he’s walking around with baseballs shoved in the crotch of his jeans.” Mickey blushed and shuffled around a little bit. The alpha flashed a wicked grin. “Look, how about this? I really am just interested in... you. And what you’re doing. I might be in uniform but this is all unofficial. I promise. No strings attached.”
Mickey squinted. Houston’s face was open and honest, without a single scrap of deception anywhere on it. “No strings attached?”
Houston solemnly held up his hands. “No strings. No bugs. No investigations. No telling my buddies what I did last night, or whatever. I’m just curious. Let’s compromise. Can we meet somewhere to talk? In private?”
Mickey kept hesitating, torn between wanting to trust and knowing that he couldn’t. He had just been burned by thinking there was no harm in giving someone a little bit of information about him. Yet here he was, considering doing the same damn thing only a few days later.
So, he wouldn’t give anything away. He could talk without specifics. No names, no locations, no nothing.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”
Houston raised one massive hand to scratch at his stubble while he thought. Caught up in the moment, the omega couldn’t help but to wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers pressed against his own skin.
“What about Red Velvet?”
Mickey made a face. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a bar. You old enough to drink?”
“Yes,” Mickey said, unhappily. “But I don’t exactly have any ID.”
Houston just shrugged again in response. That seemed to be one of his favorite gestures. “Just tell them Houston invited you. They’ll let you in, no questions asked. I can give you directions. It’s...”
Lifting up one hand, Mickey stopped him. “It’s okay. I can find out where it is on my own. I should get going though. What time do you get off your patrol or whatever?”
Houston glanced at his watch. “Well, not for a bit. Can you meet me at midnight?”
Mickey shrugged. “Plenty of time. Fine.”
Those steel grey eyes slashing against his suddenly seemed very soft, not metal at all but the silken press of fur. Mickey practically felt a gentle touch stroking his cheek, riffling through his hair. For a moment, he wanted to press back against it, to relax and be tended to, but he pulled away abruptly, turned his back on the alpha and walked away.
The last thing he heard before turning the corner was the soft, slick sound of a lighter wheel.
There were wheels turning in his mind to echo the sound, though none of those were nearly as quiet. Now there was no doubt that the alpha felt something for him. Shapeshifters could become quite tuned in to their partner’s presence, if they were mated. However, Mickey had heard story after story of what it was like to stumble across your mate: a beautiful, mind-boggling experience that melted away all negativity and left you a new person.
For all his apparent infatuation, Houston was definitely not tumbling head-over-heels for Mickey, nor was Mickey feeling anything but a low-grade attraction to the alpha’s physical body.
But despite that, Houston was acting as though they were mates that could locate each other because their souls instinctively brought them closer. Mickey didn’t like that. It felt wrong. He didn’t need someone like that in his life, especially not a cop! Fate wouldn’t be so cruel, would it?
Chapter Four
Red Velvet lived up to its name. It was a silky-smooth place decked out in vibrant reds and cream accents, almost too rich to handle. No one entered and left again without feeling satisfied. The music was low, inoffensive blues, and the atmosphere seemed more like a library than a bar. Everyone spoke quietly, respectfully. No woman was ever in danger of being hit on, and no man within ever acted like a sleaze for fear of being made to leave the premises.
It could just be assumed that it was the greatness of the bar itself that kept people in line, but the truth was that this was a shifter bar. It was popular amongst humans as well, but even they could sense that there was... something else going on. No wise human messed with things they didn’t understand.
Houston sat at the booth he always chose, tucked way back in the corner where he could see everything. He had changed out of his uniform, but it was still quite apparent to all the regulars who he was. He had a glass of coke in front of him, condensation leeching out onto the table and wetting his fingertips as he turned the glass around. Ice rattled within the dark liquid, echoing exactly how his nerves felt.
I wonder if Mickey is even going to come?
He really hoped so. He had no intentions of getting drunk and then going in to work hungover, but that was what he felt like he would be doing if he was stood up.
Stood up!
Houston shook his head at himself. As much as he wanted this to be a date, he knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. A cop couldn’t get involved with a thief. Except, he wasn’t a cop right now, was he? No. He was just a man. A man with needs, who wanted to meet with an interesting omega. There was nothing wrong about this.
“You look like someone who’s trying to figure out whether or not they’re going to get fired,” a soft voice said, at his elbow.
Houston jumped up, knocking into his glass of soda. It teetered, dangerously on edge. He reached for it, but a slender hand knocked his out of the way and righted the wobbling glass first. He looked up.
All the times he happened to see Mickey so far, the situation was just wrong for taking his time and really appreciating the details of the other. He did so now, wishing only for a moment that the lights weren’t quite so dim.
Mickey had a full head of long hair, which was the reason Houston first mistook him for a girl. The tangled locks were black as a night without stars, and looked as though they might be silky with a wash or two. The face framed by the hair was fine and handsome in a delicate sort of way, like a doll crafted with much love. His eyes were as black as his hair. Every inch of exposed skin—which wasn’t much—Houston could only revel in nevertheless; soft and smooth, almost the color of caramel, but with that olive cast that he noticed before. Yet, for all the softness, Mickey had a hard edge to him that was rare amongst omegas. He was muscular, wiry and clearly wary.
After a moment, Houston managed to find his voice again. He seemed to have lost it briefly, when everything he had suddenly took a trip south and settled between his legs. His groin felt overheated, and he was suddenly glad for the fact that he was sitting and his lap was hidden. “Maybe I am,” he replied, a little hoarsely. He waved one hand, suddenly aware of his own large size while gesturing for Mickey to take a seat.
Mickey stayed right where he was, although he did lean over slightly and place one hand on top of the table for balance. “So,” he said, softly, “if you’re so worried about losing your job, why do you insist on trying to talk to me?”
Houston let out a little growl. “If you’re so concerned that I’m going to be harmful to you, or endanger whatever it is you’re hiding, why did you come here?”
“Maybe I just wanted to get you off my back.” Finally, the omega moved to settle himself on the bench opposite of Houston. Their knees touched for a moment, and the alpha clamped
his lips down on an explosive moan. “Tell you just enough to make you feel like you learned everything.”
“Is that how you always do things?” Houston raised an eyebrow.
Mickey shrugged. “To be honest, this hasn’t happened before. I guess I’ll learn from it and avoid it next time.”
Houston sighed. Clearly, this wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe if he could get Mickey to loosen up. “You want anything to drink?”
Mickey shook his head though. “I don’t drink. It’s an expensive habit. Not like smoking.”
“Smoking is expensive, too.”
“You cops don’t have that much money. You wouldn’t do it if you couldn’t afford it.”
Houston sputtered on the mouthful of coke he had been sipping. “That’s... a bit idyllic, isn’t it? After all, isn’t that the root of addiction? Not being able to stop even when you know you should, even when you can’t afford it?”
Mickey shrugged. “I guess so. But I can tell you aren’t addicted. I can feel what you feel. You’re real nervous. If you were a real smoker, you’d be talking to me through that window right about now because you’d have to smoke outside. Besides, no one in the world would get addicted to those nasty things you smoke. It smells like you’re burning dirt. Even addicts have better taste than that.”
A little smile played on the corner of Houston’s mouth. This wasn’t exactly what he’d been wanting to talk about but it was their first real conversation. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but to feel over the moon about it.
However, he wasn’t able to hold onto that good feeling for very long. Mickey seemed determined to keep this as impersonal as possible. Firmly planting his elbows on the table, Mickey leaned over them and spoke in a low, harsh voice, “Look, I don’t want affection from you. I don’t really want anything from you. Let’s get this over and done with before I walk right out of here and you never get to know anything, okay?”
“Is that a threat?” Houston growled. However, much to his surprise, he found that he really couldn’t get angry at him. He wanted to, but alphas didn’t fight with omegas. It was wrong. And an alpha especially didn’t fight with an omega that they were interested in. Shoulders slumping, he leaned back in his chair and sighed while looking up at the ceiling.
“No,” Mickey replied. His voice had grown even lower, but now he seemed complacent as well. Houston wondered if he could feel the wrongness of arguing too. “It’s just stating a fact. We both know if I started running right now, you would never be able to catch me again.”
“I know that. But you wouldn’t, would you? Something’s keeping you here. Any real smart thief would have blown town by now, but you did more than just stick around. You stayed in operation.” Houston coughed at the word. “For all intents and purposes, anyway. You didn’t even go into hiding. You’ve got a purpose.”
Mickey said nothing, his eyes downcast.
“You know, it seemed kind of weird to me that you would be stealing a sack of flour. But then I saw you take those apples and things started to make a bit more sense. Mickey, are you homeless?”
The omega’s handsome face didn’t so much as twitch at the question. All he did was shrug. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Maybe you and I would disagree on the technical terms of what exactly that means.”
Come on, kid. Give me something.
Houston decided to try a different tactic. “Fine, then. But let me ask you this and maybe we’ll finally be onto something. You didn’t steal anything from that jewelry store. You didn’t even intend to, did you?” As he spoke, he conjured up the image again of the very specific manner in which the windows had been smashed. “Hell, if I didn’t get in your way there, and at the restaurant, you would have gotten away both times. You’re hard to catch—but you made yourself known. You broke the windows. You got everyone’s attention and got the cops coming, and everyone down the whole street came running out to see what was going on.
“Meanwhile, I saw a report the other day. Someone called the cops from that very restaurant to report a lot of missing inventory; food items. And the gap in which those items could have gone missing coincides pretty nicely with the time where you were causing a distraction. Tell me how wrong I am, now.”
For a long moment, Mickey did nothing but stare down at his hands. He seemed not exactly disturbed or distraught, but simply bothered. “Damn,” he muttered. “You’re good. But not good enough.”
Houston shrugged a little, his heart pounding in his chest. That had just been a total hunch! He could hardly believe that he’d actually been right about that. Was it coincidence, intuition, or was it the wolf inside him leading him in the right direction? “I don’t want to be good enough. I just want to know about you and your pack.”
Mickey grimaced.
Ah, there it is. The reaction I’ve been looking for.
“Are you this interested in your own pack?” the omega fired back. “A pack is a pack, isn’t it? It’s home.”
Houston braced himself for the familiar nagging ache that came every time he thought of his pack, but it faded through the years to the point where he hardly felt anything anymore. It used to bother him, once he figured out that he was different. The lack of what others had, and of what he didn’t, tortured him and kept him awake at night as he would run through all the different reasons for why this could have happened to him. As a child, the possibilities were endless. Now, as an adult, he was very much aware of the fact that the potential pool of reasons were very small indeed, and they were nowhere near as exciting as he used to hope for.
“Houston?”
He lifted up his head, swallowing for a moment. Maybe it still bothered him a bit then. Reaching for his soda, Houston took a long swallow that pulled more than half the glass down his throat. When he set it back down on the table with a clunk, he noticed Mickey’s dark eyes glued to his throat and lips.
“Sorry,” he replied. “Mouth was dry. Anyway, I don’t really have a pack.”
For a moment, there was only silence between them. Then, Mickey lifted up his head and his eyes glinted with sadness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me to talk about.”
Mickey’s arm moved. Houston flicked his eyes over to it, watching as it seemed to drift toward him in slow motion, before the omega abruptly pulled it away again. “Uh, sorry. But, is it okay to ask? Not like I want to pry or anything.”
“If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?”
The corner of Mickey’s mouth quirked upwards. “It’s a possibility.”
Encouraged by that, but knowing he would have done it anyway, Houston looked down at the wet rim of his soda glass while he spoke. “It really doesn’t bother me. It used to, you know. Like it bothers all kids when they discover that they’re different from everyone else around them. Lisp, glasses, being poor or skinny, whatever. But you tend to learn how to get over things like that.” Houston let out a little sigh. “You hear all sorts of bad things about orphanages, and especially about church-run orphanages. It wasn’t all good, but it definitely wasn’t that bad. The other kids were tolerable as far as kids go, and the nuns were downright crazy aunts.
“They always told me that I was dropped off in a basket in the graveyard, although sometimes the priest made it sound like he had personally taken me from my parents when they came to give me away. I’m not quite sure where the truth begins and the little white lies end, and sometimes I think it’s best not to know.
“I was an infant, though. Not even a month old when I found myself at the orphanage. I grew up there. Never adopted. I don’t even remember if anyone ever tried to adopt me. After all, even humans can sense when someone’s a shapeshifter. And I wasn’t some cute little kid who wanted to be a cuddle bug and get read bedtime stories by Mommy and Daddy.” A small smile played on Mickey’s lips as he listened. “I was massive even as a kid, and I liked crawling around on the roof of the church instead on visitation days.
�
��When I was a baby, it wasn’t a secret that I was a shapeshifter. They kept me separated from the rest of the kids until I was old enough to understand that I had to hide it in public. Except, the nuns always made sure that I got extra time outside on my own to burn off some energy.
“I stayed in the system until I was eighteen, and then I immediately joined the police force. I guess you could say I’ve never really been alone. I’ve always been a part of something. Had something like a family. It’s not a pack and it won’t ever be a pack, but you learn to make do with what you have, don’t you?”
Mickey looked stunned, his eyes half-lidded as he examined his own hands for a very long moment. Houston held his breath, blood pounding in his ears as he struggled to keep from shattering that silence. Then, the omega looked up and his expression was unreadable; yet, Houston felt something turn in his chest and he could have predicted what was going to be said before it was even spoken.
“Maybe you will understand.”
Houston leaned forward encouragingly, barely avoiding knocking into his soda for a second time as his elbow slipped in a wet patch of spread condensation. “I think I will,” he breathed.
Mickey stood. Houston stayed seated, waiting for a sign. Even in motion, the omega still seemed to be making up his mind. Then, he turned toward the door of the bar and made a small gesture with one hand. “Fine, then. Come on. I have something to show you.”
Chapter Five
The bar really had been an impressive place. Mickey had to admit that. He wouldn’t have thought that a huge, aggressive lug like Houston would be able to appreciate a classy establishment like that. Then again, who was Mickey to be judging anyone based on who they were? Maybe they were both full of surprises.
He definitely couldn’t deny that while he led Houston off down the darkened, midnight streets, he was extremely aware of the alpha at his back. Extremely aware of it. As in, he could practically hear the other’s heartbeat, and imagine a light pat of that gigantic hand against his rear. He shuddered at how vivid and lifelike his imaginings were, of entwining their fingers and walking in step with the other. Every part of him said that he absolutely must be walking with his mate. With no one else in the world had he ever felt a connection like this before. In fact, if he listened just a little closer, he wondered if he would be able to hear Houston’s thoughts, if their minds might connect now as well as their souls.
Wild Ride: An M/M Shifter Mpreg Romance Bundle Page 19
