Omega Reimagined volume 2

by Tanya Chris

  “I’m not discounting the negatives,” Daisy said. “But every job has its negatives. You can’t tell me yours is all roses.”

  “I’m helping people.”

  “So am I. Do you remember the first time you buried a knot?”

  He definitely did. It’d happened in the exact brothel Daisy was taking over. He’d been barely eighteen, freshly arrived in Northern Pack territory and flabbergasted to discover there was a place he could experience real sex with a real omega. The omega in question had been pretty—a slim male with typically light Northern Pack coloring and a thick ass. He’d cooed over Quoitrel like he was someone important and had squealed convincingly when Quoitrel knotted him. Later, Quoitrel had realized that for all the squealing, the omega had never ejaculated, but at the time he’d been too young and ignorant and way, way too consumed with ecstasy to notice.

  “You liked it, didn’t you?” Daisy smiled at him indulgently, and he realized he’d let himself drift deep enough into the memory to glaze over. He wiped the dreamy expression from his face and gave what he hoped was a reasoned nod.

  “It’s okay,” Daisy said, “you don’t have to hide it. Taking an alpha’s first knot is as transcendent for me as it is for him. One of my first-timers was almost fifty. I was a little worried I was going to need a doctor.” Daisy’s melodious laugh rang like bells pealing.

  “How does an alpha get to be fifty without knotting anyone?”

  “Well, think about it. In a society where knotting is exclusive to claiming, if an alpha can’t find a mate, or doesn’t want to mate, what are his options? I’m glad the Northern Pack is making it more acceptable for omegas to take a knot without being claimed, but obviously they’re not required to take a knot without being claimed.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And yet, there are all these alphas wanting to fuck, some of whom aren’t, if we’re being strictly honest about it, very desirable as mates.” Daisy made a face that momentarily pulled his features into an unattractive arrangement, if that was possible. “I try to find the beauty in all my clients, but in some it’s less conventional than others. And then you have wolves who are mated but whose mates aren’t willing or able to engage in sex, wolves whose mates died and who don’t want to take new ones, wolves who just want a quick fuck without having to jump through the hoops of talking another wolf into it. Sex workers provide a service.”

  Quoitrel opened his mouth to speak, but Daisy shushed him.

  “Not that kind of service. I mean, obviously that kind of service, but beyond that. An independent sex worker is a safe and ethical pressure valve. Rather than coerce someone into sex they don’t want or risk forming an unwanted bond solely out of a need for sex, wolves can hire someone like me. Get their rocks off and get on with their business. Everyone is better off for it.”

  If Quoitrel’s first knotting experience had been with an independent contractor like Daisy, he might be able to cherish the memory that had left him conflicted. The idea of fucking an experienced professional—someone desirable enough that a lot of other alphas had wanted him and taken him—really turned him on, and maybe it all went back to that first experience, to the throbbing delight so intense it’d rewired his brain forever.

  “I’m afraid you won’t attract a clientele as nice as you’re imagining,” he told Daisy. “Since the old brothel got shut down, there’s a certain faction of alphas harboring resentment over it—over that and everything else that’s changed. They’re going to be your first customers, and we’re worried they’ll take out their anger on you.”

  “You’re sweet.” That was Daisy’s no-nonsense voice, the one that warned Quoitrel to back off. “I’ve got a lot of experience. Not just sexual experience—experience running a brothel. I had a place in Eastern Pack territory, remember? I didn’t leave because I couldn’t handle my clientele. I just couldn’t stand being raided anymore. Or arrested. Or blackmailed into providing sexual favors in exchange for looking the other way. Clients, I can handle. Law enforcement, not so much.”

  Quoitrel swallowed down the way that made him feel—like he was the problem when he was trying to be the solution. “You had your own place there? I thought maybe someone else was handling the business end of it for you.”

  “Like an alpha-in-charge?” Daisy shook his head. “Just me in charge. There were others workers taking clients, but I managed the place, including dealing with unruly and abusive alphas. I have security all lined up,” he promised. “Betas who’ve been trained to contain an enraged alpha.”

  “Who’ve you got?”

  “My team-lead is named Suki. You know her? Strong and mean.” Daisy bared his teeth.

  “I’ve met her. She’s a friend of Macy’s, the clerk at the Immigration Office.”

  “Macy’s the one who referred me to her. I wanted Macy, but she’s convinced the Immigration Office would fall apart without her.”

  “She’s probably right.”

  “Don’t worry so much,” Daisy said with a light hand on Quoitrel’s arm. “I’ve done all this before.”

  Quoitrel nodded, hopeful but not convinced, as he rose to clear their dishes. He dumped them into the sink, intending to deal with them later, but Daisy came over and hip-checked him out of the way.

  “I don’t expect you to clean up,” Quoitrel told him.

  “I know. That’s why I’m doing it. Give me a kiss and go get ready for work.”

  “After I walk you home.” He stepped back to get a better view of Daisy’s ass while Daisy did the washing up. He’d never given much thought to the joys of domesticity—and his father would kill him if he ever tried to suggest that an omega’s place was in the kitchen—but Daisy covered in soap suds wasn’t hard on the eyes.

  “You ever have any alphas work with you?”

  “Thinking of applying?” Daisy threw an amused glance over his shoulder.

  “Just wondering.”

  “Well, let me know if you ever get the urge. I’d love it if Daisy’s House of Delights serviced everyone—men, women, alphas, betas, omegas—but I’ve never found an alpha willing to work with me. It’d be great for omegas who were looking to satisfy a bad heat without risking a bond. I’ve handled a few myself.”

  “Handled how?” He drifted closer so he could feel the warmth of Daisy’s skin rising off him. Daisy threw him another amused glance when he snuggled his chubby cock into the hollow at the base of his spine.

  “Toys, fists. Plenty of ways for omegas to help each other out. How do you think they manage if they’re not mated to an alpha?”

  “So you fuck omegas too?”

  “Professionally, I’ll work with any sort of wolf. Personally, I enjoy male alphas.” Daisy went up on his toes, then eased back down so that the crack of his ass slid along Quoitrel’s cock. “There. Dishes done. You want me to take care of that?” He turned around and gave Quoitrel’s erection a pointed look.

  “I don’t even know how I’m hard again,” he said, although he did know. Daisy. Looking at Daisy, talking about sex with Daisy, imagining Daisy servicing customers. Alpha, beta, omega—he didn’t care. It was fucking hot.

  But they both had work to do, so he stepped away and willed his dick into submission. Given the depth of the snow outside and the fact that no one had shoveled the sidewalks yet, it made more sense to run to the brothel in fur, and shifting took care of his horniness. His wolf had a more sensible libido than he did—it knew when he’d had enough—and once he was in wolf form, his focus changed from sex to snow.

  All the world was soft and white. The drifts reached nearly to his belly, and Daisy, who was as petite a wolf as he was a human, was half-drowned in it. Quoitrel went first, breaking trail so Daisy could keep his eyes above snow level, but they both ran and rolled and circled so much that they didn’t leave a trail so much as a disaster zone. When they came across other wolves enjoying the crisp morning, they all tumbled together, plowing through snowbanks and splashing around as if the snow were water.
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  Daisy’s fur was a darker twist of golds and browns than his human hair. He had a preciously pointy snout and seemingly limitless energy. Quoitrel would love to spend the whole day out here frolicking, but enough human sense lingered at the back of his mind to remind him he couldn’t, so he reluctantly corralled Daisy into moving in the direction of the brothel.

  Once Daisy had bounded up the stairs, Quoitrel gave a last woof of farewell and dashed back to the Sheriff’s Office without stopping to play. Already the snow was more trampled than virginal, so he had no trouble moving briskly. Back home, he gave himself a good shake to dislodge as much snow as possible before shifting, then went inside to dress. Daisy’s coat hung on the rack just inside the door where they’d left it last night. It would give him a good reason to see Daisy again.

  Oh, and the tribute! He’d completely forgotten to give Daisy the present he’d bought, and the fact that Daisy seemed to have forgotten it too gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. He really didn’t mind paying for sex, if it could be ethically done, and Daisy was so desirable, so talented, so amazingly good, that he deserved every penny he got. But not being asked to pay made him hope their encounter had been as good for Daisy as it’d been for him. And that they’d do it again. A lot.

  Chapter 6

  The brothel came together quickly. Daisy was a determined manager who kept his team of workers focused. Whenever Quoitrel stopped by—and he found frequent reasons to do so, pretending he was keeping tabs on this quasi-legal establishment for Head Alpha Marta’s sake—he saw everyone bustling, including Daisy himself. Daisy never looked anything other than graceful and sexy, but he still managed to convey authority in a way Quoitrel, perhaps unfairly, wouldn’t have thought possible from an omega. The combination of sharp business person by day and eager sex kitten by night had Quoitrel excited to see Daisy in any situation. Hence, the many visits to check on the brothel’s progress.

  It was soon shined up from every angle, the ugly bars on the windows made almost attractive with a fresh coat of black paint and a matching iron door installed in place of the old one made out of chipped abalone. Once the downstairs had been whipped into shape, work moved upstairs to the rooms where customers had once been served and would be again.

  Quoitrel watched the progress with both approval and concern. Daisy had been sleeping at his place, where every night was a whirlwind of joy culminating in the deep satisfaction of falling asleep still knotted, but one of the rooms being fitted out upstairs was for Daisy’s personal use. Once it was ready, he’d likely start sleeping there.

  It wasn’t just the probable loss of Daisy’s company that had Quoitrel’s anxiety rising as the grand opening of Daisy’s House of Delights grew closer. He was worried about the reception Daisy was going to get. Word of the nature of his establishment had gotten around, and the reaction was exactly what Quoitrel would’ve expected. The only wolves in support of having a brothel were the sort of wolves you probably didn’t want in your brothel. The good citizens of North Leland thought Head Alpha Marta should close Daisy’s House of Delights before it ever opened, and more than a few had stopped in to give Daisy that opinion themselves, which Quoitrel knew because he happened to drop by while one of them was in the process of doing it.

  The alpha, a personal friend of Prince Angel’s named Gillis, had Daisy cornered in the giant office chair. Daisy looked both small and regal, his expression composed but smelling of fear. Quoitrel growled, his claws itching with the urge to physically move the threat away from the omega, and Gillis startled in reaction. He’d been so busy berating Daisy, he hadn’t heard Quoitrel approach.

  “Sheriff,” he acknowledged, recovering himself quickly. “I hope you’re here to put a stop to this.”

  “If by this you mean your intimidation of an omega citizen of our pack, then yes.”

  Which was how Quoitrel ended up being included in the anti-brothel sentiment sweeping the town. It didn’t take long for Gillis to figure out where Daisy was spending his nights, and he was quick to let everyone known the sheriff had been bribed with sexual favors. Quoitrel was so torn between his initial opinion—which was that the brothel was a bad idea—and his fevered, fond support of Daisy and anything Daisy wanted to do that he didn’t even bother to defend himself.

  In the meantime, while the citizens of North Leland with whom Quoitrel usually felt most closely aligned whispered ugly things about him and Daisy, the alphas he normally kept an eye on teemed with enthusiasm. There would be a line to get into the brothel on opening night, and that line would be composed of brutal, regressive assholes Quoitrel would happily lock up if they gave him even one reason.

  Angel scheduled a meeting at his place the night before the grand opening to discuss the situation. Quoitrel escorted Daisy there, uncomfortable with the prospect of him walking through market square alone. This would be their last night together, probably. Daisy had given him a tour of the upstairs earlier, and everything was pristine and elegant and just a little showy, exactly like Daisy himself. Daisy had claimed the biggest room as his personal bedroom, and though he’d furnished it more simply than the others, it still had a four poster bed covered in thick, downy blankets and wall-to-wall carpet that was luxuriously soft beneath Quoitrel’s bare toes. Aside from the bars on the windows that made the place feel like a jail cell, the room was far nicer than what Quoitrel could offer.

  Leo answered the door and showed them into the living room. Drinks and snacks had been set out, and Angel and Leo were dressed in matching pajama bottoms, making the occasion seem more social than official, but after a few minutes of small talk, Angel got down to business by asking Daisy what he had planned.

  “It’s a party. A meet and greet, if you will. I won’t be taking customers tomorrow night, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Angel exchanged a quick look with his husband. “Good idea. I think you’re going to have a lot of alphas there, and you’re the only one to, uh, serve them, right?”

  “Only me for now,” Daisy confirmed, “though I’d like to bring on a few more workers. Unless I’m in heat, I can’t handle more than three dates a day.”

  Leo shook his head. “Even three.”

  “My libido is part of what makes me suited for the job. I’ll enjoy myself if the alphas know what they’re doing.”

  Quoitrel liked to imagine he knew what he was doing, but he still felt a competitive urge to prove it every time they fucked.

  “Of course some alphas don’t know what they’re doing,” Daisy went on as his hand stroked soothingly over Quoitrel’s thigh as if he could smell his anxiety, “which is why I limit myself to three dates a day, preferably spread throughout the day to give me time to recover between them. I’ll be booking appointments, not taking walk-ins.”

  “Ah.” Angel set down the cup of tea he’d been drinking and immediately threw his arm around his husband. “I’d been wondering. I was envisioning a line of impatient alphas.”

  “Gods, no. I’m not a carnival ride. What I do takes time and attention, and my prices will be high enough to prevent overuse. A rare splurge, if you will, not a daily treat.”

  “Still,” Angel said, “I’m concerned about your safety. I think we should have law enforcement present. Quoitrel?”

  Quoitrel looked guiltily at Daisy’s hand on his thigh. No doubt Angel had already heard the rumors, but there they were, spelling it out right in front of him. And now Quoitrel’s job was in conflict with his relationship, as he’d always known it eventually would be.

  “I can ask one of my deputies,” he suggested, but Angel shook his head.

  “I’d rather it was you. It’s a potentially explosive situation. We need someone with your experience and maturity to defuse tensions rather than escalate them. And you obviously care about Daisy”—Quoitrel flushed at having it stated so plainly—“I’m concerned about him being harassed by the exact people who ought to be protecting him. Not to make Daisy feel bad, but I assume he knows what’s being said. The
general opinion isn’t good.”

  Daisy’s hand stilled on Quoitrel’s thigh. A low snarl swirled through Quoitrel’s chest, which he managed to suppress before it could break free. Imagine snarling at the prince because an omega felt sad.

  “It’s awful,” Leo said quickly. “And we’re working on it, I promise. Whether or not Marta allows Daisy’s House of Delights to stay open, please know that Angel and I are behind your right to practice sex work a hundred percent.”

  Angel looked more like he was fifty percent behind it with a fifty percent dose of not wanting to piss off his husband, which was exactly how Quoitrel felt. Spending as much time with Daisy as he did had him convinced that no one could make Daisy do anything he didn’t want to do—Quoitrel fucking dared someone to try to make Daisy do something he didn’t want to—and he fully believed Daisy had the right to do anything he wanted. It was just…

  He worried, that was all. He wanted Daisy to stay in North Leland and be his omega, and if all the decent people here ostracized him, what would that mean for their chances of having a future together. And how did you have a future with a sex worker anyway? It would be easier and better—well, better for Quoitrel at least—if Daisy gave up this idea of running a brothel. So Quoitrel still sort of hoped Marta would shut it down.

  Except then Daisy would go away. To try his luck in the Central Pack maybe. Or worse. Brothels were plenty legal in the Southern and Western Packs. They were just horrible, horrible places he couldn’t bear the thought of Daisy being in.

  As far as tomorrow night went, he assured Angel he’d have the place covered. He never would’ve been able to stay away anyway. Daisy seemed relieved.

  “I was going to ask you to be there,” Daisy said as they walked back to the Sheriff’s Office later. The night was crisp and cool, the snow reflecting a brilliant moon. “But I was afraid—because of what we’ve been doing together—that you’d be too…”