by Dakila Reed
Reece crossed his arms as if challenging. "I'll go with you."
Rustom drew a dragging breath, expanding his chest that had never felt so constricted before. He crossed back to the room and circled his arms around his mate. He could tell the growing anxiousness, worry, and that obvious tinge of jealousy in Reece's scent. He hated scenting it from him. But what could he do?
"Reece," he began, releasing Reece and locking gazes with him. "I don't want you to come. Where I'm going is not safe."
"A supreme alpha does not bolt out of bed to fetch some omega. There are enforcers who'd do that happily for you," Reece reasoned softly, his green eyes displeased and accusing. "This isn't part of your job, is it?"
"Skye isn't just an omega, Reece. He's my best friend. He's my responsibility."
Reece chewed on his lower lip, eyeing Rustom with so much meaning. But then the omega shook his head in resignation after a minute. "Sorry. This best friend thing is making my head go haywire. If that is something you need to do, I won't stop you. But I'm really worried. Are you sure this is..." Reece looked away, out into the window where a sliver of moon was hanging in the pitch darkness. "Never mind."
Rustom pulled his mate into his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pained to feel his mate troubled. "I'll be home soon." He planted a reassuring kiss on the blond's head, and in a second, was completely out of the house. His truck roared into life, the tires squeaking angrily against the asphalt. He drove seething and willing himself to remain calm when all he wanted to do was break all of the driving limits of his district he himself amended, passed, and imposed.
Into the distance, the massive ancient iron arc came to view, marking his exit of Sierra Nadre's most outer borders. The freeway stretched into the distance like a mirage of never ending still rivers. With not even a single star, the darkness of the sky was an engulfing dome. The dry earth on both sides a home for many traitorous shadows. He pressed his foot on the accelerator, the machine of his car revving down to the unease boiling in his core.
He stole a glare at his phone he tossed on the passenger seat. Skye had turned his ancient flip device off, with no way for tracking the piece of junk at all. As the seconds turned to minutes, the wild dread of having Skye disappearing on the face of Earth pounded on him mercilessly. It wasn’t like Skye was in some other country. But the dream was too vivid, too effing real for him to relax.
Warren Point was a three hour drive from Sierra Nadre. The way he was competing with sound and light, he'd be at Warren Point in no time.
* * * *
Walking the streets of an unfamiliar territory revved all the instincts in his body. The air was as dry as a desert's. The humidity sucking the life out of him. Despite that, his heavy duty and worn pair of boots, the first things he could grab when he was hurrying earlier, sloshed and splashed small dirty pools of water on the uneven dirt road. Somewhere in one of the dimly lit establishments, someone had failed to close the faucet tight. The sharp drip drop of water against the tin sink oddly was loud despite the chaos of muted music, laughter, and bass pounding into the air.
Rustom hurried his pace, feeling worse by the second. The establishments he poked his head into for a look obviously weren't by the books. The second motel he went to said they did have a pair with one of them matching Skye’s description. It was all in his good luck, or maybe bad actually, that the receptionist heard the pair was off to drinking. Where could be anywhere.
The shadows of the streets clothed and veiled prostitutes, criminals, diseases and rodents. Warren Point wasn't called the 'Land for the Lost' for nothing. Shifters and humans alike tumbled and mingled here for refuge over their pasts, authorities, or whatever shit one has gotten themselves into. A patch of land more complicated than anything else.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Why the fuck would Skye go in a place like this? Their district prison was safer than this.
After crossing the streets with the nonworking traffic light, Rustom braced himself for his twenty-fourth establishment. The first ones turned out futile and truth be told, he had no idea where to look. The only thing he was relying into was the very faint, almost untraceable scent being fogged by the air's acrid smell of smoke, liquor, musk, and sex. If he wasn't so used to scenting that lemon grass, he doubted he'd have any clue.
By every step, the scent grew richer, clearer. And it brought a drop of relief to Rustom's high strung nerves which were ready to snap. Skye's trace led him to a dilapidated building claiming itself to be a bar and restaurant from the askew sign over the entrance which said The Sire's. Rustom pushed the steel door open and instantly got bombarded by very drunken singing and drunken laughter from the audience.
He scanned the vicinity. The establishment was dark, save for the elevated area working as the stage. There were a couple of men standing in the middle singing at the top of their lungs. The more the crowd goaded them, the more confident they became.
Dismissing the men sounding like birds being choked, Rustom inhaled. Eliminating the unnecessary smells, he focused on that one he'd been looking for. He walked closer, at the same time he picked up the scent close by. He heard a laughter. He'd hear that even through the rumbles of thunders and storms. He'd done it once. There was no mistaking it.
By the third table closest to the stage he finally saw the object of his unease, irritation, anger, and worry. Sitting all relaxed and with not a care to the world, Skye picked up his drink, laughing first before taking a sip. He wasn't surprised to see Skye sharing his table with some alpha who probably was the guy Skye mentioned in his message to James. Rustom did a few digging about the man and he wasn’t very pleased. Regem Wayne. An alpha belonging to no pack, not a member of any district, with a slate of records as clean as a holy grail as though he'd never even existed. All the information that turned up about Skye's travel buddy was very unbelievable.
Alpha to alpha, Rustom couldn't trust this Regem Wayne.
He observed the two first. Aside from Regem Wayne smirking at whatever Skye had said, the alpha never did once reach out or look at Skye's way in any untoward manner. Rustom moved closer, his steps drowned out by a disgustingly squishy gray carpet.
"Come on Wayne. Go up the stage. I know you want to," Skye snickered. "Bring out the diva residing in you."
"Babe," Wayne drawled, tipping his can of beer to Skye's direction. "I don't sing. I make others sing."
Skye, who clearly had lost half or maybe all of his sanity cackled. And as if it wasn't enough, he thumped his forehead against the sticky edge of the table with his shoulders shaking. "But I heard you singing in the shower... falsetto and everything."
Wayne coughed, nearly spitting beer. "You did not."
"I sure as hell did!"
"Do you have a death wish?" Wayne growled.
Skye just laughed some more.
What the hell? Rustom was in disbelief. Was Skye so wasted he couldn’t even pick up Rustom’s presence? But more than that, he was stunned with what he was seeing. He couldn't remember the last time he and Skye had jostled like this. All free and just having fun. He bit the insides of his cheeks, hard enough to break tissue just to stop himself from baring his teeth and growling. This wasn't his territory and going berserk irrationally was never in his vocabulary.
Just as Skye was picking up his drink, eyes watery from cackling, his blue gaze roamed around the place. He went past Rustom. In a split second, Skye whipped back at him, the man's mouth in a small 'o'. Skye's companion, Wayne, turned to look at him too. A smirk growing on that hard face for some reason. The man reached out and tapped Skye on the shoulder which shouldn't have made Rustom angry but it did. Bone deep. Skye nodded, chugged the last of his beer before pushing back his chair. He stood, a bit unsteadily and finally took his steps towards where Rustom was standing.
Skye was grinning at him. Like a child who got caught doing something he shouldn't. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils blown from the darkness and the effects of alcohol he'd been downi
ng only hell knew how much.
"What are you doing here?” Skye asked, obviously confused but thankfully, although smashed, still sane enough.
Without saying anything, Rustom grabbed Skye’s arm, gently but firmly. He guided the swaying man towards the exit. The blast of hot wind was a welcome change from the stagnant and heady air inside of the establishment. Rustom looked left and right before crossing the street, his hold never ceasing. He’d considered throwing the stupid fool over his shoulder and drive away home to safety but stomped the idea down.
“Where are we…”
Two blocks later, the empty lot came into view, together with Rustom's old and worn but proud vehicle. Skye languidly stared at the vehicle, shook his head and blinked. All drunkenness must have fled from Skye. His compliance changed to rigidness. The shorter man pulled his arm away, took a couple of steps backwards and then stopped dead, eyes wide at Rustom as if he just saw him for the first time.
Rustom sighed and pulled the passenger door open. “Let’s go home.”
The confusion and shock on Skye’s face melted away. His gaze replaced by clearheaded stare and defiance, Skye snorted and turned around back to where they came from.
“Skye?" Rustom stood shell-shocked first, watching the man walk away from him. He ran after Skye, tugging one sweaty and clammy arm. "What the hell?” Rustom hissed, blocking the other's steady steps.
“I’m not going back. Not yet.”
"You are going back Skye. I won't allow you staying here for one more second."
Skye rolled his eyes at him. "What am I? Twelve? Of course I know Warren Point is not safe. But it's been ages since I've had fun. I've made friends, let loose, and for the first time seen sides I'd never see if I haven't stepped out." Skye shook his head, rubbing the tip of his nose as if bashful. "They do food expos here too and as a matter of fact, I managed to volunteer for the bar we just came from. I'll help set-up the booth this coming Saturday. How awesome's that?"
Rustom drew a deep breath, wanting to blame alcohol for all the things Skye was sprouting. Although the sincerity in those darkened blue orbs told him otherwise. Skye knew what he was talking about. And he could understand but still...
"Skye, you're not safe here alone. Omegas like you have a high chance of being targeted. And you could be fucking gullible sometimes."
Skye jerked away, but contrary to his hasty movements, his eyes were calm. Very much so it reminded Rustom of the silence before the harsh winters.
"Why is my being an omega now such an issue? Why can't I trust who I wanted to trust? I thought we live in a free world now?"
"Damn it Skye. How you could go with a stranger you only met a few days ago is beyond me. Now tell me if I shouldn't be worried."
A laugh escaped from Skye's mouth. Forced and accusing. "Now it's about Wayne?" Skye huffed and looked away. "If you only came here for this nonsense, go back Rustom."
Rustom ran a hand over his face, exasperated and tired. He could feel at the back of his head that they've gathered some audience hiding in the dark. "You could be freaking hard-headed sometimes Skye. What is this rebellious phase you've got going on?"
Skye's mouth fell into a thin line. He pursed them tightly, his shoulders gone tense and defensive. "Why the hell are you really here? If anyone isn't supposed to be here, it's you."
“Skye,” Rustom gritted. “I can’t protect you here.”
Seconds passed, the wind hissing at their ears, accompanied by some paper trash bouncing on the ground before completely landing between them. Skye then let a derisive snort. "Protect? Where did that suddenly come from, huh?" Skye slapped his neck, scratching a possible insect bite. He then darted at Rustom in a way as though it was Rustom who stung him badly. "A few times I tried to come to you. You know, just to talk. But you can't. You're this sudden supreme alpha who couldn't spare me a minute because you're busy with Reece."
Rustom swallowed, guilt plaguing him. "Skye, please, don't make it sound like I don't give a fuck."
"Why? This is just your supreme alpha ego, wanting to protect the weaker members in the spectrum. Well I don't want it. Go back."
Rustom took a step closer. Skye stepped back.
"Supreme Alpha Rustom Vera, I want to stay here," Skye said before bowing, for the first time ever acknowledging Rustom’s status.
"Skye," Rustom groaned in frustration. "Don't do this. You're not just anybody to me. Sierra Nadre is your home."
The omega smiled. Never had Rustom seen a sadness in there that had him growing weak.
"You wanted to protect me?" Skye quietly asked, lifting a hand to rest on his chest. "You can't. You can't protect this."
Rustom's brows drew closer and closer together. The betrayal in Skye's eyes, the resignation and defeat, everything was numbing him.
Skye stared at the uneven ground. "Someone keeps on rearranging my universe with his words. With his actions unknowingly. Someone made me feel so freaking special. Important. Whole. That I’m no different. I’ve so helplessly fallen." Skye broke his eye contact to the ground and looked up at Rustom. "But it doesn't matter. Because that someone is already happy to have met his fated mate, even when from the start he doesn't believe in them."
The pounding awareness in Rustom's temples was rushing into him. His rage at the unshed tears so visible in Skye's eyes made him want to tear his own self. How could he have not known? Just fucking how?
“So please,” Skye smiled, pleading in his eyes, “understand if I wanted some time for myself."
He'd been staring at the same mug full of coffee for how long he knew not. It was like he sunk in a hole where time had no hold of. A hole where his complete idiocy and running mouth were the only things that existed.
Skye slammed his forehead against his crossed arms on the table. Groaning, whimpering, and much everything someone so frustrated would do.
"You and your stupid mouth..." Skye grumbled. "It wasn't supposed to be like that way. It should be dazzling... monumental..."
From behind him, he heard the sound of the main door opening and closing. It was followed by heavy footsteps coming closer. The presence stopped a few feet away, the looming presence reeking of combined smoke, alcohol, and a faint scent of sandalwood.
"What's supposed to be dazzling and monumental?"
At the same time Skye lifted his head was the same awesome time Regem Wayne chose to pull open the blinds. The explosion of brightness in the small kitchen sent Skye shutting his eyes instinctively. Trying to get away and not drown from the offensive light searing his brain.
"Wayne! It's too bright!"
Wayne walked towards the only remaining free chair around the small square table, sat, and smirked at him.
"Last night I saw you, I remember you were still a shifter. Pray tell how you turned into a vampire." The man glanced at Skye’s mug of coffee, picked it and downed all the contents without asking for permission. "It's morning already. What's all the hiding in the shadows?"
"I don't know," Skye sighed. "I messed up."
Wayne started tapping the rim of the mug with his forefinger. The sound soothing for some reason in the quiet and the wild sounds of thick forest where Warren Point was situated.
"Hmmm," Wayne nodded. "I can see now where all this drama is coming from."
"What?"
"You talking about fated mates, your sudden want to let loose, and the man last night. That's Rustom Vera who's recently found his fated mate. You're pining for your district's supreme alpha."
"Before he became the supreme alpha, I was his best friend first!" Skye blurted defensively. Embarrassed from his tone, he sunk back into his chair and scowled. "You're annoying when you're being talkative..."
The alpha stopped with his tapping and looked Skye in the eyes, his gaze deep, reading, unfathomable.
"I've always thought that fated mates are gifts from someone anonymous." Wayne started in a tone as if he was telling a bed time story. "To a person who has someone he’s content with, they
can choose to not accept the gift. It’s their choice. But to those who have zero nothing and alone, they’d be the greatest blessing. That’s just how it is."
Skye was fixed at Wayne's gray eyes. In the sunlight they were almost white. The man's expression was soft, almost so tender as if he was seeing something, or someone in the midst of them.
"If it would make you feel any better," Wayne continued still staring into space. "I would still have fallen for my mate even if he wasn't my fated. Him turning to be my fated mate was just a bonus. We could have had lots of children..."
Skye cleared his throat. He felt that they were heading to a very sensitive, painful area of Regem Wayne's mysterious and secretive life.
"W-why do you talk as if... as if your mate is de—"
"Dead," Wayne finished for him. His voice soft but sharp. "He's dead. Raped. Murdered. Thrown in a swamp just outside your district's border."
Skye blanched. He stiffened. The quiet revelation somehow sucked all the sunlight coming into the kitchen through the window. The warmth was gone. An eerie chill lingered. It was Wayne who broke the silence.
"That time I was in a district in South-East Asia helping omegas from maltreatment." Wayne shook his head. "I've saved a number of female and male omegas in my line of work... but I was never here to protect and save mine."
Swallowing, Skye fidgeted on his seat. He had no idea what to say. He bit on his bottom lip, wondering what to do. Wayne was a very closed-in guy as far as Skye could tell. The man sharing this sudden piece of himself made him somehow happy, but at the same time worried that he couldn't give something in return. He steadied himself and brought his gaze back at Wayne, wanting to gauge the man's expression. To his surprise though, Wayne was smiling at him with content and ease. And it brought so much light to the otherwise always hard and difficult expression the alpha always wore.
