by Aspen Grey
“That’s right, Fletch,” Chuck nodded. “They’re all for sale and yes, we do take credit cards!”
Everyone laughed and Chuck led me to a refreshments table and handed me a plate.
“Eat up,” he told me. “It’s gonna be a long night of schmoozing. You see that gal over there? That’s Christie Ferrell. Very rich gal from town. Her husband struck it big with Amazon IPO or something. I’d bet she picks one up for her new house.”
“I see,” I replied, taking a water and some cheese.
“And there? That’s Bernie Mann. He’s old money. Always loves buying art, but I think he leaves it in his basement and just talks about all the artists he ‘knows.’ But hey, money’s money, right?”
“Hey, I didn’t slave over my canvas for it to sit in some dickhead’s basement,” I corrected Chuck. He was right – money was always nice, but despite my muscles and stern-looking exterior, I was an artist and I wanted my stuff to be appreciated.
“Yeah, well, I do need to make a little scratch here too,” Chuck reminded me. “Gallery space downtown isn’t cheap.”
Art is a business, I guess.
“I hear ya, Chuck,” I replied. “Well, you do you and I’ll mingle and be nice to people.”
“Sounds good, partner! Oh, and before I forget. My crazy ex is wandering around here somewhere. Don’t let him bother you, though. He’s a bit of a pain in the ass. I only let him work here because he begged me.”
I chuckled. “Sounds shitty. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Munching my cheese, I walked around the gallery from painting to painting and did my best to schmooze with the high society who’d come out. I couldn’t imagine what my old buddies from the corps would say if they saw me now – Fletcher Strong, selling paint on canvas to a bunch of civvies! Wild.
“What inspired you here?” a woman asked me, pointing to one of my paintings.
“That was done from a dream that I had about a beautiful sky above a river,” I told her. “I was on deployment and having a hard time remembering home, so I’m not even sure if that place really exists or not, that’s why it’s an abstract.”
“It’s beautiful,” she nodded.
“Thank you.”
I could tell she didn’t have much more to say, so I let her be and made my way over to a small crowd who was admiring an aerial view I’d done of a forest. They asked me a lot of questions I’d expected to hear, but as I was explaining to them my paint-mixing process, something happened that caught me completely off guard.
A scent of an omega wafted into my nose. It was so strong and intense that it felt like I’d been punched in the sinuses.
Blueberry scones, I thought as I turned and found myself staring at a drop-dead beautiful omega standing in the doorway that led to the back room of the studio. He was tall for an omega, probably close to six feet, with a head of luscious blond curls and innocent green eyes that made me instantly want to wrap my arms around him. He was looking at me like his life had just changed, and I knew why.
The omega standing in front of me was my fated-mate.
“Excuse me, Mr. Strong?” a man asked from behind me, tapping me on my shoulder. I almost didn’t hear him, and without taking my eyes off the omega, turned my head slightly towards him.
“Yes?”
“I saw the sticker here on this piece was fifty thousand,” he said. “Is that…firm?”
“You’d have to ask Chuck,” I replied. “He handles that stuff.”
“I was just thinking, if I came to you directly and we bypassed Chuck—”
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me,” I said. I walked away from him and right up to the gorgeous omega, his scent growing stronger with every step I took. By the time I reached him, I felt drunk from it. I felt myself imprint instantly and my cock jump two sizes beneath my pants. He was undeniable. My alpha shifter urges swept through me, taking priority over everything else about me. It was an incredible thing and I felt bad for humans who would never be able to experience it, and by the look on his face, he was feeling the same thing too.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“J-Jessie,” he replied. “Jessie Williams.”
“I’m Fletcher Strong. How would you like to be Jessie Strong?”
The boy’s jaw dropped and he blushed as red as a honey crisp apple.
“You’re gorgeous,” I told him. What was the point in mixing words? “I’m supposed to be focused on my art show, but I don’t think I can anymore.”
Jessie opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching us, then took him by the arm and pulled him around the corner into a back room. Instantly, my nose was buried in his neck, inhaling his delicious scent and feeling his breath against my shoulder.
“You smell amazing,” I whispered to him. “What are you doing here?”
“I—I—I work here,” he stammered. “For Chuck.”
“Well, what do you say I go tell Chuck that you and I are going to get out of here early?” I asked him. I stepped back and stared into his eyes, but instead of excitement, I saw hesitation there. “What? What is it?”
“Chuck…” his voice trailed off.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Chuck is my ex,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll be okay with that.”
His words were like a sucker punch to the gut. This beautiful boy had been dating Chuck? A wave of jealousy swept over me as I thought about the two of them together. This boy was mine and no one else’s, especially the fake-nice Chuck Nolte.
“Your ex…” I muttered.
Fuck, things just got complicated.
“Yeah,” Jessie replied. He looked down as though he was ashamed, but I wasn’t having that. I lifted his chin to bring his eyes to mine.
“Don’t look like that,” I told him. “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
“But he’s showing your work,” Jessie said. “He’s going to kill me if he sees me talking to you.”
Jessie’s body was tight and small beneath mine. I couldn’t control the urges rising with me. I wanted to tear his clothes from his body, bend him over the couch and ravage him. And if there had been a lockable door on the room, I would have, but as this was one of those fancy new galleries, there was a serious lack of doors in the place.
“Fuck what Chuck has to say,” I replied. “I can find another place to show my work.”
“No, no!” Jessie stammered. “No, I can’t be responsible for that. I can’t!”
“You’re not,” I told him, running my hand up his leg then up his stomach. “I am. This is my decision. My choice. Let’s get out of here. My Jeep’s outside.”
Jessie looked around like we were both going to be caught any second. I sniffed the air, trying to pick up Chuck’s scent so I could make sure we were alone, but Jessie’s was so overpowering that all I could smell was him.
“Fletcher—”
“Hey, where’s my star player?” Chuck’s voice boomed. Jessie shoved me away from him and practically hurled himself onto the couch and pretended to be on his phone as Chuck stepped into the room. “There he is! Oh, Jessie, I told you not to bother the artist, didn’t I? Sorry about that, Fletch.”
“Oh, it’s no problem,” I replied. Suddenly I found myself particularly annoyed by Chuck’s bro friendliness and wanted to sock him in the lips. It’s incredible what desire will do to a man. “We were just…chatting.”
Chuck eyed Jessie, who wasn’t making eye contact, and nodded. “Uh, huh. Well, I got a guy out here interested in buying, but he’s got some questions about the paint that I can’t answer, so I need ya.”
“Be right there,” I told him.
Chuck eyed Jessie and me suspiciously, then nodded. “Right. Don’t keep me waiting though!”
He grinned and left. When I was sure he was out front, I moved quickly over to Jessie and whispered in his ear. “After the show. I’ll come for you. Wait for me.”
&n
bsp; And with that, I was gone.
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