The Omega Objection

by G. L. Carriger

“No.”

  “I work with him.”

  “I bet you do, beefcake.”

  “Just needed a place to crash.” Tank tried to be noble with Isaac’s reputation.

  “I bet you did.”

  A hard fist banged on the door.

  The boy flinched. “I think these fuckers are looking for you.” He yelled at the door. “Fuck off, all y’all. I require my beauty rest.”

  Tank smiled suddenly. “No you don’t, sweetheart, you’re stunning enough already.”

  The boy gave a surprised bark of laughter. “Okay, I like you. Don’t get killed or arrested. Just make them leave. I hate badges.”

  Tank nodded. He bet Isaac hated them too. He took a breath. He wasn’t mighty fond of law enforcement himself.

  Whoever was outside wasn’t going anywhere. They banged on the door again.

  “SBI. Open up!”

  Ah, thought Tank, trappers. Maybe they are after me.

  He cracked the door, just as pretty boy had done. Kept the chain on, although either one of those shifters could bust it easily.

  The werewolf glared at him. “We’re looking for a werewolf.”

  “Well,” said Tank, “you found one.”

  She narrowed her eyes and sniffed him, ostentatiously. “You stink of sex and yourself.”

  “I should smell of something else?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No. Of course not.”

  He said, “Anything else, officers?”

  “Oh, so much else. Get your ass out here. That one was human, but you’re under our jurisdiction, sweetheart.” She was not using Alpha VOICE. Still, best not to argue with a werewolf who so decidedly outranked him.

  Tank didn’t have to be nice about it though. He grunted. “Lemme get dressed.”

  He took a shower too, because fuck ‘em.

  * * *

  Isaac had a contingency plan in place.

  A gym membership.

  It was, of course, under an assumed name, and more expensive than a man in his position ought to be able to afford. It was also in an entirely different part of the city. But all of that was the point. It was out of character for Isaac the man, or Isaac the werewolf, to belong to some fancy upmarket gym. The kind of gym that had a juice bar offering meat smoothies for shifter members. Isaac always salivated but never ordered anything.

  He jogged there, because public transport was, well, public. And trackable. The gym never asked questions if he arrived sweaty. That was normal. It was a gym, after all.

  Isaac had a personal locker with the rest of his go bag stashed there. It contained a new identity, money, snacks, that kind of thing. The gym also had nice showers and a full complement of soaps so he could wash away Tank’s scent and smell like himself again, AKA nothing.

  His wolf howled at him the entire time he washed. His wolf loved smelling like Tank, loved it too much. Ached and whined and pleaded with him about it. Didn’t understand why they were running again. Why, if Isaac insisted on running, they were not running to Tank, to pack. They had someone now. They had refuge. They had other werewolves. There was a place for them to be. The wolf was confused. There was safety in pack. Go to pack!

  Stupid, stupid wolf. Knows nothing, understands less.

  Isaac took a long shower. It was the safest he was likely to be for a while. He might as well revel in luxury and cleanliness.

  He quieted his anxious wolf by thinking about last night, which the wolf had enjoyed. Isaac was confused as to why both he and his wolf wanted Tank so badly. Even now when he knew he must run, all he wanted to do was hunt down Tank and devour him. He examined his own psyche. Was there some weird revenge fantasy mixed in? As one who had been abused by a big man, and then by packs of big men, did he want to have a big man subservient to him? He was a little revolted by that idea. It meant he’d taken advantage of Tank’s giving nature.

  This time his wolf thought he was being stupid. Isaac had always been dominant, despite his place in the pack hierarchy. He always liked to be in charge in bed; he got off on it. Not necessarily on pain, he wasn’t a sadist, but he did like control. He needed control. Tank, on the other hand, obviously liked control taken away from him. Isaac wondered, miserably, if he would ever again meet a man better suited to his desires. They’d only just gotten started, but they had been so tasty together.

  He finished his shower, dressed in his spare clothes, and checked over and consolidated his duffle bags. Then he sat a moment, staring at his hands, and wondered what to do next.

  Flee town, probably. But where to go? North to Portland? Everyone else was doing that these days. He didn’t think there was a Portland pack. But he’d been wrong about San Francisco. He could try for Canada.

  “Hey, man.”

  Isaac looked up into the kindly eyes of Bruce, one of the gym dudes who spotted for him sometimes when he pretended to lift in the weight room. Bruce was always terribly impressed that Isaac could bench so much. Isaac always pretended to struggle more than he did. Supernatural strength could get a man into hot water at a gym.

  They hadn’t slept together, although Bruce had made the obligatory pass. Isaac had looked him up and down and said simply, “I’m a top. So are you.”

  Bruce had laughed and nodded. “Of course you are, should’ve known. Pity. Noodles?”

  So they went and ate ramen together, as a sort of consolation prize, and that had been that. They’d stayed friendly, though they’d kept it to the gym ever since.

  “You look a little low, dude, wanna grab some pho?”

  Isaac thought, why not? Because he really didn’t want to leave San Francisco.

  He realized right then, for the first time, that he liked it. He liked the Bay Area and he liked Saucebox. He even liked his stupid prima-donna roommates and their dumb glitter that got everywhere. He liked Xavier and Lavish and Clara and Oscar and all his shifter clients who came in to see him because he could help them. And Tank, fuck, he really liked Tank.

  I don’t want to run, he thought. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to.

  Isaac could stay and fight, of course. He had done it in the past, once or twice. It always surprised people, but he could. He didn’t enjoy doing it, and he wasn’t sure what his wolf would do, now, if he let him out. It’d been so long.

  His wolf snorted at him. I would fight, of course. I would fight for us. Because we’re one. You’re the idiot who keeps us separate.

  Shut up, Isaac told his wolf.

  He looked up at Bruce through his lashes. He was a good-looking guy, nice and muscled. But not Tank.

  “Sure. Soup would be nice.”

  So they ended up at this pho place, getting the meat lovers special, because most places offered one now and it wasn’t weird for human gym types to be all about the meat.

  Bruce shared beloved memories of his childhood. How the first time he ate pho, his dad had ordered the tripe and then tried to pretend he actually liked it. It didn’t ease Isaac’s worries, but both of them enjoyed the nostalgia. And Isaac liked to be reminded there were good dads in the world.

  “You’re so easy to talk to, dude. I can’t believe I remembered all that shit.”

  Isaac smiled. “Seems like you had a pretty cool childhood.”

  “Better than most.” Bruce frowned at him. “So what happened to you? Boyfriend kick you out?”

  Isaac blinked.

  “I noticed the duffle.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Got a place to crash?”

  Isaac only grunted. He didn’t but he didn’t want to lie, and he didn’t want to leave himself open and vulnerable.

  “I got a spare bed.” Bruce seemed to surprise himself with the offer. Isaac suspected this was his weird empathy-powers working in his favor again. He tried to stifle down his wolf.

  “Man,” he grinned at Bruce, “I thought we went over this already.”

  Bruce blushed, looking a little overw
helmed. “I swear, you keep smiling and you make me wanna fool around regardless of preferences.”

  Isaac quirked a brow. “You switching for me?”

  The man snorted a noodle.

  “I thought not.”

  Bruce made puppy eyes at him and sighed. “Sometimes life ain’t fair.”

  Isaac chuckled. “It’s tough at the top.”

  “Very true.”

  There was a big hand on his knee. No malice in it. But it wasn’t what Isaac wanted and some weird part of him, his wolf most likely, thought anything in that direction would be a betrayal of Tank’s trust. What the fuck, wolf? We just slept with the man once. Well, twice, but still.

  Isaac removed the hand and the invitation. “Decent of you, but I got this.”

  Bruce nodded. “Take my number, just in case.”

  Isaac didn’t have his phone anymore. Too trackable. But he wrote the man’s number down on a bit of napkin and was grateful for the thought, even if the offer came with expectations. He forgot, sometimes, that people could be kind.

  * * *

  “You a loner?”

  Tank ignored the question and began walking. He had his motorcycle jacket on, not because he was cold but because he wanted both hands free. Also, the protection afforded by the thick leather was better than nothing, if one of them went after him with claws.

  Although, it was full daylight, they’d have to be very strong to shift anything in direct sunlight.

  He made his way out of the apartment building without answering any of the trapper’s questions. He assumed they would follow him. Which they did. His only idea, at the moment, was to get them away from Isaac’s home as fast as possible. Protected Isaac. His lover had run from them; therefore, they must be dangerous to Isaac.

  Why a human man would flee trappers was totally mysterious. Then again, Isaac had that weird thing with shifters up in his business and confiding in him all the time. If he did have some kind of savage mage abilities that made him lure shifters, there was a chance he fell under SBI jurisdiction. Especially if the talent was on record.

  Tank’s brain went suddenly all conspiracy-theory wild. Was Isaac some kind of escaped government experiment? He did have strange moments when he seemed never to have been socialized, but Tank thought that was just humanity from a werewolf perspective. Was it possible Isaac was also legitimately weird for a human? Had he been raised in a lab or something creepy like that?

  Tank wished he knew more. He wished he’d asked more questions about his lover’s past before they fucked. Not that Isaac would have confided in him. But still, now Tank was faced with two SBI agents and he was working blind, his only goal to protect and to help as much as he could. He was certain of one thing, that he must not reveal any of the few facts he did know about Isaac.

  If only Isaac had said something about being quarry, they could have gone to Alec. Or if not Alec, then Max. Max was a Magistar, no one could stop Max. Max was powerful enough to protect anyone. Maybe even go up against the SBI.

  Tank was pleased to find his motorcycle still in one piece on the sidewalk, his helmet locked to the frame. Lower Mission was one of the worst parts of the city, even with gentrification. He turned, leaning slightly against his bike, crossed his arms and loomed.

  It didn’t work so well on these two. The berserker was bigger than he was, and the werewolf was an Alpha, so size didn’t matter.

  She was a fascinating-looking female. All muscle and sharp black hair. Her jaw was determined. She looked like she got her own way a lot. Handsome, he supposed, rather than beautiful. Her skin was dark, he thought maybe Mediterranean or Native American, or both. Her nose was prominent and her lips lush. She oozed command and dominance.

  Tank was occasionally inclined toward women. He thought she might be one of those in whose direction he would bend. Her control was iron and persuasive and it would be no hardship to kneel to her. Except he had Isaac still fresh inside him, and Isaac in all of his senses (except smell) and she had frightened his Isaac away. So the inclination to kneel was only some small secret at the back of his head that told him he could, not that he must.

  The bear shifter was typical of the northern European stock. Massive and blond and to be blamed on the Vikings.

  With Tank’s attention finally on them, even though they were now in a public street mid-afternoon, the SBI officers started interrogating him. Or tried to.

  The Alpha took point, possibly because Tank was her kind, or possibly because she always did most of the talking.

  “You’re a big one, pup. Enforcer?”

  Tank shook his head.

  “Loner, then?”

  She had the right to ask. Werewolf loners were dangerous and as such, the social condition should be established up front. Loners could get erratic without the surety of a pack – emotional in the extreme, their actions unpredictable. It was one of the reasons SBI used Alphas to track, because it took an Alpha to control a loner.

  “I don’t see a pack at your back, Alpha.” Tank challenged her gently. Knowing, of course, that the SBI was her pack.

  She curled a lip at him. “SIT DOWN.”

  Tank’s knees buckled slightly and he moved instantly to sit on his motorcycle. Then he realized what he was doing and locked his legs in place. This is not Alec’s command. This is not my Alpha.

  Around them several street humans, whose wills were muddled by drugs or loneliness or something worse, abruptly stopped whatever they were doing and sat down on the sidewalk.

  The Alpha’s eyes were fixed on Tank. She noticed, of course, that he fought off the need to obey. But she had also seen him start to follow VOICE.

  This told her a great deal. “Solid resistance from a low rank,” she said, possibly for the benefit of her partner. “So, you have a pack and Alpha already. And you’re local, which means you belong to San Andreas.”

  Tank inclined his head.

  “You do not live with them?”

  Tank said nothing. She thinks Isaac’s apartment is mine? Interesting. So they’re looking for him but they don’t know much about him.

  The berserker looked at his partner, heavy brows furrowed. “This clearly isn’t him.”

  “Clearly.”

  “So why are we bothering? We’ve tracking to do.”

  “This one is out of the ordinary. I don’t like that.”

  “So far, everything we know about this San Andreas Pack is out of the ordinary.”

  “He’s so big, must be enforcer, but he doesn’t show any of the signs.”

  Tank allowed himself to be talked about and ignored. Which she also noticed. Which was certainly not enforcer behavior.

  She looked him up and down. “You really aren’t, are you?”

  “Nope. Just very big, not vicious.”

  The Alpha sighed. “I could make you talk.”

  “You could try. Alec might object.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You think your Alpha is stronger than me?”

  Alphas, always so fucking competitive. “Of course he is.” Tank was nothing if not loyal.

  “Because he’s a dude?”

  Tank actually laughed at that. This woman could bench press Alec, easily. Alpha strength was nothing to do with biological sex or physical prowess. “Because he’s Alec fucking Frederiksen.”

  She snorted.

  “I take it you haven’t met my Alpha yet?”

  She snorted again.

  Tank was pleased – that meant whatever werewolf they were chasing, it was nothing to do with his pack.

  “You’re after a loner, then?”

  “How is it you are suddenly asking the questions of us?” The bear shifter wanted to know.

  Tank explained, trying not to sound condescending. “If there is a loner in our territory, protocol demands you notify the local pack. Yet you haven’t come to visit us. And here you stand in our territory. Seems to me, SBI, you’re in violation of your
own regulations.” Like Alec would let them out of the house without knowing pack rights.

  The berserker looked impressed. “Special dispensation for this loner.”

  Tank frowned. That meant the werewolf they were after was insane and either lost to his wolf form or psychotic, separated from it and stuck as a human. Either case made him a grave risk to himself and others. Or herself, although that was rare. Was the wolf after Isaac? Fixated maybe? Is that why the trackers were looking for him? But then, why would Isaac run?

  “Moon-mad or beast-lost?” He hazarded a query.

  The SBI looked at each other, but they remained close-mouthed. Clearly feeling they’d given Tank enough information. Perhaps Isaac knew something he shouldn’t?

  Tank gritted his teeth and spoke for his pack. “Come meet my Alpha.”

  The trappers looked at him. Suddenly thoughtful.

  “Not yet, grunt,” said the female, realizing at last exactly what he was – nothing important, just one of the pack. “We have another twenty-four hours before we’re legally obliged to involve you. And you can’t say anything about us being here.”

  “I won’t need to.”

  Her eyes narrowed sharply. “Your Alpha knows we’re in town already?”

  Tank gave an expressive sort of shrug.

  “Well, shit.”

  The bear shifter said, “We knew it was a risk when we hit the local DURPS for those records. There’s almost always a leak to the local shifter community when we do.”

  “This pack has only been here six months. How’d they integrate so fucking quickly?” The Alpha wrinkled her nose, annoyed and impressed. “This isn’t the kind of city to be all open arms and free love over werewolves. I can’t see how a pack even functions in this town.” She turned to glare at Tank.

  Tank followed her reasoning completely. By all rights, the San Francisco Bay Area was the worst possible place for a pack of werewolves. Generally speaking, werewolves lived up to the shifter version of trailer trash. They were closed-minded, heterosexual, and pack-oriented, which was as close to gang as made no difference to the feds. (Those packs that the government didn’t take advantage of by turning into military units, of course.) Most packs hung out in bars and on bikes (well, San Andreas fit that model), but those bars and bikes were rural, and their trailers were off-grid. Female Alphas happened, of course, but they tended to splinter off quickly, form their own packs with other women, or they went into government work. He understood this one’s prejudice because it was based in reality. Their old pack had been pretty typical, although Fifi was a more understanding Alpha than most when Alec came along. He’d let them splinter and not fought them over the breach. Possibly because he knew that Alec was taking the weirdos and the malcontents with him – the homosexuals and the outrageous. Fifi had likely believed they weakened his pack. He certainly wouldn’t want to see them breed into it, those few who were inclined.