Table of Contents
Epilogue
Welcome to Stell!
Harley
Carson
Lars
About the Author
Also by Kaz Crowley
Runaway Omega: Harley
M/M/M Mpreg Romance
Kaz Crowley
Kellan Larkin
Copyright © 2018 by Kaz Crowley.
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Welcome to Stell!
1. Harley
2. Carson
3. Harley
4. Lars
5. Harley
6. Carson
7. Lars
8. Harley
9. Carson
10. Lars
11. Harley
12. Lars
13. Carson
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Kaz Crowley
Welcome to Stell!
Welcome to Stelline City, jewel of the territory and home to the biggest shifter community on the west coast! Whether you’re a fox, an eagle, or even a unicorn, you’re welcome in our city.
Check out our fine dining—seared steaks by dragon chefs are a delicacy here—and our nightlife and recreation. There are plenty of parks where you can enjoy your animal form away from the prying eyes of humans, and hip spots where maybe you’ll run into your fated mate.
If you’d like to learn more about Stelline City and the shifters who live here, we recommend you join author Kaz Crowley’s newsletter. You’ll be the first to know about new books, sales, and other fun stuff.
Sign up today!
And of course, enjoy your stay in our beautiful city!
— the Stelline Territory Tourism Board
1
Harley
My bones ache like they never have before. It’s like if I fall asleep, I’ll never wake up again. A part of me doesn’t want to wake up. But I know I have to keep going. If not for myself, for Hunter.
I’ve already named the baby growing in my belly. Maybe it’s foolish, but I don’t care. The mortality rate for babies is high when you don’t have access to doctors. But I’ve grown so protective of baby Hunter over the past few months, feeling him kick inside me, knowing he’s always with me.
I love him. I love my baby, and I’m looking forward to the day I’ll meet him.
But his dad… well, good riddance. There are scars on my back, bruises on my arms, reminders of my time with him.
I left because there was no way I was letting Hunter grow up around someone so violent and abusive. I don’t want him to think it’s okay for people to treat each other like that. My ex is the worst kind of person, and I never want to see him again.
I’m seeking a new life.
As I finally crest the hill, nearly collapsing on the ground, I see the lights of Stelline City in the distance. I’m almost there. When I get to the outskirts, I’ll be able to find someone who can give me a ride downtown. I have just enough money I squirreled away over the past year to pay for a month’s worth of living expenses. But after that point… I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll be taking care of a newborn, so I won’t be able to work. Maybe being homeless on the streets of Stelline City will be better than the town I came from, but…
I shake the thoughts from my mind. I can’t think like that. If I fall into the familiar spiral of self-pity, I’ll be lost. And I don’t want to lose myself. Not when baby Hunter needs me.
I decide to camp here for the night; it looks like it’ll be a couple hours’ walk into the city, and I don’t want to arrive in the middle of the night.
I find some shrubs which provide cover, and set up my tiny tent and blanket, wishing I had more food. I’m not worried for myself, but for Hunter. I don’t want him to become malnourished. I have just enough to keep me from starving, but food will be one of my first priorities when I get into the city.
As I pull my blanket around myself and look up at the stars through a mesh panel in the tent’s ceiling, I wondered if I’m doing the right thing.
Hunter turns inside me, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. I rub my stomach gently.
Of course I’m doing the right thing.
The hot scrubland sun bears down on me, and I immediately shade my eyes as soon as I open them. It’s already uncomfortably hot inside the tent. Summer is brutal, and I only have so much water left. I have to get to Stelline City as soon as possible.
I pack up my stuff, eat a small portion of my food rations, and quickly make my way down the path leading to the foot of the hill, wishing I could travel at night instead. But I can’t. I heard weird rumors about Stelline City, rumors that wolves live there. It doesn’t make sense, since I don’t think this part of the country ever had wolves, but I’m not taking any chances when Hunter’s safety is in my hands.
So far, I’ve been incredibly lucky. As I approach the city, watching the skyscrapers grow bigger and clearer, I think about how it’s a miracle I made it out of Spruce Springs at all. My heart lifts when I start to hear the sounds of the city—electric cars whirring by, people chattering, the mechanical sounds of the city’s infrastructure, bullet trains and subway systems chugging along.
I can find a place here. I know it.
When I enter what appears to be a run-down suburban area, I realize I can start looking for food. It’s been days since I’ve even set foot in a store. I keep my eyes peeled and eventually spot a convenience store.
It’s a bizarre feeling to return to civilization after days of camping in the wilderness. Everyone’s eyes are immediately drawn to me, no doubt because I’m grimy and I look incredibly pregnant, like I’m about to pop. I try to ignore their stares, and after a moment, they forget about me. That’s the nice thing about these urban areas—you can be relatively anonymous if you want to.
I grab a shopping basket and start putting stuff in, trying to be discerning despite my parched throat and my grumbling belly. Hunter’s agitated; I feel him kick a little bit.
I pick out two bottles of water—I hate spending money on bottled water, but you can’t trust the tap water quality everywhere—as well as some cheap sandwiches. I also grab myself a chocolate bar. I can’t really a
fford to indulge my cravings, but I know it’ll help my spirits remain high. And I can’t underestimate the importance of mental health when trying to survive.
I go up to the counter and put my basket down, rummaging in my pocket for my wallet while the cashier totals my purchases. I hold my cash card out to him, glad that the system still works. I hate carrying paper money.
The cashier raises an eyebrow. “Uh, do you have a blue card?”
“A what now?” I ask. My brain’s fuzzy and I can barely stand up straight. I’m leaning on the counter, the hard edge cutting into my skin.
“Blue card? SSA?” When I continue to blink at him, he sighs. “Stelline Savings account. We don’t accept cash cards here. You’re from out of town, aren’t you?” The cashier tilts his head at me.
“Oh, um, yeah, I’m new here,” I say, fear rising like bile in my throat as I realize I might not be able to take the water and sandwiches with me. In that moment, I want those soggy slices of bread and turkey more than anything.
The cashier presses his lips together and wrinkles his nose. He looks just a few years younger than me, but he has that blasé expression I’ve come to associate with convenience store cashiers. I don’t think there’s any chance of sympathy from him.
“Well, you’re going to need a blue card if you want to buy anything,” he says. “I can’t help you.”
“Are… are you sure?” I ask, reluctant to beg but knowing I might have to for the good of my child. I hadn’t anticipated this problem at all—it doesn’t make sense that stores in a big city like Stelline won’t accept the national cash card system.
“You didn’t hear?” drawls someone from behind me. “The cash card system is being dismantled this week.”
“What?” I turn around to see who’s speaking.
“Move along, please,” says the cashier, irritated. He hands my basket of goods back to me. “Next customer.”
I step out of line, too exhausted to be angry. Instead I regard the person who spoke to me.
He’s a tall, stocky man in a suit. He looks high class, like he doesn’t belong in this neighborhood at all. I can see the sparkle of his watch and cufflinks as he slips a finger into his breast pocket and pulls out a blue, shimmering card.
“I’ll pay for you, come on,” he says.
“W-what?”
“Come on,” he repeats. “I’m not letting a pregnant omega go without food and water.”
“Oh, th-thanks,” I say, amazed at this stroke of luck. Though I don’t know what he called me. An omega? Was that it?
The cashier’s expression is blank as he rings my products up again and takes the man’s blue card. Within minutes, I’m guzzling the water like I’ll never drink water again. When I’m finished, I feel much better, though I know I’ll have to get a move on. I clearly need to open a Stelline Savings account, whatever that is, if I want any hope of surviving in this place.
I wipe the water from my face and put the bottle back in the shopping bag, regarding my benefactor.
“So, you’re new here, huh?” he asks, regarding me thoughtfully. I have no idea how he’s not burning to death in the brutally hot sun. Even though we’re under the shade of the store’s awning, I’m overheating.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here to seek a better life, cheesy as it sounds. For this guy.” I pat my stomach.
The man smiles kindly, a gesture I didn’t expect from him. “You’re gonna be a great dad, then,” he says softly. “You need a ride? I’m heading into town. I can help you get an SSA as well.”
The man presses a button on his watch and in seconds, a beautiful, shiny car slides up to the curb.
Where I come from, rich-looking hot shots do not just offer rides in sleek black top-of-the-line electric cars to random, grimy homeless people. I haven’t washed in a week and I smell like it. I have no idea why he’s even giving me the time of day.
“Um, I’d appreciate it,” I say, suddenly wary. Maybe he has an ulterior motive. My guard’s up, but I don’t have any better options. I’ll go with him for now.
“Come on, then,” he says. As we step toward the car, the doors automatically open. He takes my bag and backpack from me, and I slide into the seat. It’s wonderful to be in a clean, air-conditioned seat. I can’t believe how much I missed sitting on a proper chair and not dirt and grass.
The doors slide shut and we take off. With a start, I realize the car doesn’t have a driver. I know driverless cars exist, but only the richest people have them. But looking out the window at the highway, it seems like every third car is driverless, and so many of them look brand new, with the distinctive whirring sound of electric motors. Back in Spruce Springs, most people still rely on internal combustion engines.
Who the hell is this guy, anyway? He’s loaded.
I turn back to him and see that he’s taken one of my sandwiches out, offering it to me. “You clearly have to eat,” he says, concern in his eyes. “It’s ten minutes to the bank, so you have time.”
He’s completely taken control of the situation, but I don’t mind. It feels good to relax.
Not that I can completely relax. I have to be careful. I’m in the big city, after all, and I’ve heard enough horror stories.
But for now, I enjoy the sandwich. It feels good to eat cold meat—I’ve pretty much only had warm, stale bread and pathetic-looking vegetables for the past week.
“So,” says the man, after giving me a few minutes to stuff my face. “Why Stell?”
Stell? I realize belatedly he means Stelline. That must be what the locals call it. The sandwich made me feel a lot better, but my brain’s still fuzzy.
I don’t know how much to tell him. “Ex and I split up,” I say. “I figured I’d get better medical care and more job opportunities here.”
He nods. “A worthy goal.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should ask what he called me earlier. An omega… the word sounds familiar for some reason, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Here we are,” he says.
“Wait a minute,” I say, as the car slows and the doors slide open. “I didn’t catch your name.”
The man smiles a wide, toothy grin, his dark eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “The name’s Carson,” he says. “Carson Fleur.”
“Nice to meet you, Carson,” I say. “I’m Harley Bellow.”
“And the same to you. Here, you’ll need your ID and cash card from your wallet,” says Carson, handing me my bag.
I take a moment to dig out my wallet and phone. The phone’s dead now, because my solar charger died before I entered the wilderness, but maybe the bank has an extra.
We step out of the car. It’s strange to see it drive off by itself, neatly disappearing behind the bank and into an underground parking structure.
“I don’t have an address here yet,” I say. “Or a job. Are they going to let me open an account?”
Carson holds the door open for me, and I step into the welcoming, cold room. “It’s not a problem. They’ll sign you up for a Stelline Citizen ID.”
There’s clearly a lot to learn about how things work around here. I have to get a charger as soon as possible, so I can plug back into the world. Carson mentioned earlier that the cash card system was dismantled, and somehow I completely missed that major piece of news.
I follow Carson further into the bank. A couple people greet him and he nods at them, and he eventually leads me into an office where another older man in a suit sits.
“Hey, Gerry,” says Carson. “This is Harley. Harley, Gerry. Gerry’s an old friend of mine and he’ll help you get set up.”
I’m incredibly grateful to Carson. Even if there is some funny business going on—I’m still suspicious about why he’s helping me so much—this is a huge boon for me.
“Thank you,” I say, addressing both of them and sitting down.
“Harley’s new in town and needs an account,” says Carson simply. “He needs to close his cash card account, too, and get a Stelline
ID.”
“No problem,” says Gerry, tapping away at his computer screen. There’s silence for a moment as the computer buzzes and beeps and Gerry looks in some drawers for what I assume is paperwork. He produces a set of papers and a pen.
“Do you uh, have a charger, by chance? My phone hasn’t been charged in a week,” I ask.
“Sure,” says Gerry. He holds out his hand and takes my phone, then plugs it into a solar panel on the windowsill.
“That explains why you didn’t know about the cash card meltdown,” says Carson, understanding dawning on his face.
I shrug. “I didn’t have access to the news for the past week.”
“Makes sense. Well, long story short, they’re ending the cash card program because politics, blah blah, and now each territory is required to manage its own program. I think they were having trouble with under the table cash transactions. Or something. Who knows why politicians do what they do,” says Carson.
“Amen,” agrees Gerry. “Now Harley, fill the paperwork out here, and here…”
He shows me what to do and I take a few minutes to read and fill out the paperwork. It’s straightforward, and like Carson said, it doesn’t matter if I don’t have a permanent address. It seems like it’ll be a fairly seamless transfer from my cash card.
A machine behind Gerry pings, and he swivels around in his chair.
“Here’s your Stelline Savings card,” he says, handing it to me.
I take it from him and look at it. The shimmering blue metal is much prettier than the bland gray of the national cash card. The logo of Stelline City, a cluster of stars, shimmers in the corner, right above my name and information.
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