Mist and Marrow by Mary Calmes
1
LINDEN
Whenever I heard people say, “I wasn’t made for hard labor, or life on a farm, or even being in love,” I always thought… the thing I wasn’t made for was running. Running was vile. There was no part of it I enjoyed. Even when I was a wolf, I always worried about what I was running through or in. What if I got Lyme disease from a tick? What if my fur got all sticky from some gross oozing weed or tree? Really, the whole experience was simply revolting. No self-respecting omega, of which I was one, was raised to break a sweat in any form they took, man or beast. We weren’t even supposed to glisten. If one had to indulge in gardening—another pastime I never understood—the only acceptable interaction between the outdoors and dirt actually took place inside, as in a greenhouse with temperature-controlled everything and the spritz like the veggies got from the produce section of the grocery store. Not that I’d ever shopped for anything but art, fashion, or jewelry… or eye cream, but I’d seen it on television.
Omegas were, as a rule, beautiful ornaments that resided in the homes of only the richest alphas. Just because that ship had sailed for me didn’t mean that I suddenly became a person who enjoyed perspiring. At the moment, however, sprinting hand in hand with Miss Tabitha Wellington of the Kinsley-Wellingtons of Mountain Brook, Alabama, a suburb of Birmingham, I could feel the sweat running down my back into the crack of my ass. The only saving grace of my present situation was that my friend Avery Davenport was not around to witness my horror. I would have never heard the end of it if he caught me doing anything so completely out of character as running.
“Luna,” Tabitha whined beside me as we took the stairs up to the L so we could get on the train and take it to Oak Park, “I think I’m going to pass out.”
“You won’t,” I assured her, “because if you do, you have to bond with—what’s his name again?” I asked, hoping to distract her from her swoon.
“Weston Gaines,” she answered, voice cracking with fear.
“Yes, Weston,” I said, thrilled that we’d cleared the top step. If she fainted now, at least I could drag her onto the train. “And didn’t he say he wanted children right away? And you want to go to cooking school, do you not?”
“I do,” she affirmed, and her grip on my hand tightened as we raced onto the L and dropped into a couple of seats as the doors closed and it took off.
“And your dear friend Marnie has graciously set you up at a wonderful school in Miami with the new name we arranged for you, so let’s focus on that.”
Tabitha turned to face me. “I’m so sorry I messed up.”
Slipping my hand from hers, I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “It’s all right, dear. We’re not all born to be James Bond. We don’t do this cloak-and-dagger shit on a regular basis.”
Chuckling, smiling through new tears, she nodded. I was glad she was better, because we still had a bit of maneuvering to do before she was safe.
Normally things were easy. As a rule, even though I was, for all intents and purposes, making people disappear, it wasn’t dangerous. She had made her position, and mine, precarious when she veered off course.
I had been at the art gallery at Eighteenth and Halsted, then walked around the corner on a chilly Thursday morning into Ends of the Earth, my vintage jewelry and antique store, and was on my way toward my office when I found a young woman standing at the jewelry counter. It was not odd to discover people admiring the baubles, but she stood out because she was shivering. Since it was March in Chicago, the fact that she was cold was not a surprise. But even as she stood there trembling, I noted she was still mesmerized by something in the locked, shatterproof glass case.
“You have good taste,” I murmured when I slipped around the corner of the counter alongside her to stare down at the strand of Tahitian saltwater pearls with a diamond clasp.
Her breath caught, and she looked up at my face. I saw it then, the red, swollen eyes, heard her sniffle, and knew, of course, she’d been crying.
“Whatever is the matter, darling?”
Sharp inhale of breath. “I messed up.”
I gave her the warmest smile in my arsenal, which I’d been told by many people still presented as a trifle fake. The problem was, I’d been schooled for so long to keep every emotion locked away that it was difficult, nearly impossible, really, to do away with the artifice. “I’m certain that together we can undo whatever entanglement you currently find yourself in.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”
Instantly, I knew who she was and what she was doing in my shop.
Four months ago, my best friend’s alpha’s grandmother—such a mouthful—Joan Follet Davenport, had staked me in a retail venture. She had agreed to make my dream come true as long as I did her the service of running her new art gallery, Follet Studio. Thinking it was more than a fair trade, I was thrilled, and then overwhelmed when she announced that she was going to pay me as well. Me, working. I’d nearly swooned.
Her faith had meant the world, as I’d never held a job in my entire life. But it turned out that all the parties I’d planned, coordinated catering for and overseen the decorating of, came in handy. I knew what an event had to have to be successful, and I knew who to talk to and who wasn’t worth my time. I had already been in charge of two amazing events. In four months, two didn’t sound like a lot, but considering we’d been booked a month in advance for each and I’d sold every piece, the gallery was a hot ticket. In private, I hyperventilated a lot, but in public I showed only my normal frosty façade. Between the gallery and my shop, I was doing well, but what gave me the most pleasure and sense of achievement was my small side project.
I was saving omegas.
Some people rehomed dogs. I did it with people.
Last November, when my reputation had exploded overnight, I wasn’t thrilled. Everyone knew me. I was the omega who had neither disgraced their family nor secured a bonding. I was a wholly new creature to be vilified and made sport of. I wasn’t ruined, not quite, but neither was I respectable. I was the outlier. I didn’t mind, because it meant that when nineteen girls and six boys—so far—had come into my store seeking salvation, no one even thought to ask me. Certainly no self-respecting omega would ever be caught in my company, and since no one was looking at me, I could interfere without anyone noticing.
I had thought Tabitha Wellington was going to go the same way as the others. When the sweet Southern belle had looked up from the pearls to my face, I was sure it was going to be easy. I had Rio Vargas, who worked for me, take my place on the sales floor with Elle Weir, who also worked for me, and I gently took hold of Tabitha’s elbow and walked her deeper into the store, to the other side of the tall racks of vintage coats and scarves, all the winter wear that I put on clearance. When I turned her to face me, her face scrunched up like she was about to cry.
“Tell me what you’re doing here,” I demanded gently.
“I—” She caught her breath, biting her bottom lip. “I’m looking for Luna.”
“That’s me,” I purred, smiling at her.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise, as had every other person who’d come into the shop looking for a woman and found me instead. But the thing was, moonlight had always seemed magical to me, a gentle, feminine presence, and so of course, when I had the chance, I became Luna. I now had the power to weave spells and cast people into their dreams. It was all overly romantic and sentimental, but as I didn’t have to explain to a single soul why I went by that name, it hardly mattered. I could be as much of a Disney fairy godmother as I wanted.
“I’m so happy to see you, but I—I messed up.”
“I’m sure we can figure it out, but first off, who are you, angel?” I asked gently.
“Tabitha Wellington.”
Pulling out my phone, clicking on the calculator app that hid my schedule, I saw her name and the date and time. “No, darling,” I countered, meeting her gaze. “You haven’t messed up even one little bit. You’re here exactly when you should be. Perhaps a skosh early, but that’s to be expected. People tend to get a bit antsy when they’re leaving their old lives to start a brand-new one.”
“You don’t understand,” she whimpered, biting her bottom lip. “I accidentally left my phone in my hotel room instead of dropping it into a trash can, dumpster, or mailbox around the corner from my hotel as I was told. I completely panicked.”
It wasn’t the best news, as call history and emails could be checked on a recovered device. I was always crystal clear with my instructions, and she had negated one of the most important.
“That’s all right,” I soothed her. “We’ll just––”
Bells jingled at the front, and she squeaked in surprise, startled, as she was clearly on edge. I walked her to the counter in back and pulled her around after me, ordering her to squat down next to a shipment of vintage beads from a shop in France that I adored. The back door was too far away or I would have made a run for it, but the good news was, this was the most cluttered part of the store, so between racks of clothes, furniture, décor, and lighting, it was easy to hide. After only moments, I noted two men striding toward me, and I leaned on the glass case, cloaking myself in irritation, which must have worked because they slowed as they reached me.
One of the men looked as though he belonged on some runway in Paris. His bespoke suit fit like a glove, accentuating wide shoulders and a narrow waist. The tie tack, which I didn’t see many of, was gold, and the lapel pin with an enormous bloodred garnet at the center announced that he was from a wealthy lupine family. His companion was taller, more muscular, with hardly any neck at all, so I could only guess that he was his bodyguard, though imagining that they were secretly lovers was fun.
“Welcome to the Ends of the Earth,” I said indulgently, giving them a bored smile. “How may I be of service?”
The one who was obviously there in search of Miss Wellington took a step closer. “Cut the crap,” he barked at me. “Those idiots in the front tried to greet us as well, but I only want to talk to the owner.”
The idiots he was speaking of were my wonderful staff, and I bristled at his characterization of Rio and Elle. “I’m the owner,” I replied smoothly. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for an omega.”
I scoffed. “Well, you might want to wait until the next gathering,” I quipped. “One can’t just pick one up at a shop, you know.”
“Listen,” he growled, stepping in close, using his size to try and intimidate me. “I made an offer for Tabitha Wellington’s contract, and her father accepted, but when I went to sign and collect her this morning from the hotel where they’re staying, she was gone.”
“And why, pray tell, are you sharing this information with me?”
“Because when her room was searched, the only thing we found was her phone, and the last two numbers she called were first this shop and then for an Uber.”
“Exquisite detective work,” I stated, taking a step back. “But people call here all the time looking for specific vintage items, or to inquire about our selection of jewelry. Your friend could have been in the market for any number of things.”
“I don’t think so. I think she called here to meet someone.”
“But we have estate jewelry,” I informed him. “Lots of people are interested in that.”
“You’re not listening to me,” he snapped. “She was here for a rendezvous.”
“I see,” I replied pompously.
“She was,” he insisted, bristling with irritation.
“And with whom was she meeting?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, there’s only me here and the two idiots up front,” I apprised him, my voice icy. “You can check with them, but I certainly didn’t have any assignations set for this morning.”
He scowled at me, crossing his arms. “Why would she come here? She’s from Tennessee. The only reason she and her father are even here is to meet me and sign the contract. We’re supposed to be on a plane home to Manhattan this evening.”
“Thank you for the rundown of your itinerary,” I patronized him. “Perhaps she was looking for something vintage for her bonding ceremony.”
“I don’t care. I just need my damn omega.”
“Well, I wish I could help you, but I haven’t seen anyone. Perhaps she misdialed and then took the Uber to wherever she actually needed to go.”
He lowered his head a bit, his eyes flat as he stared at me. It was meant to be intimidating, the glare of an alpha, that state they entered where they “wolfed out” and became, for a moment, a completely base animal. It was dangerous to challenge them when they did that as, in theory, they could shift in the blink of an eye and kill.
I was not impressed. I’d known stronger alphas in my life, as well as scarier psychotic ones, so the peril he was offering didn’t move me an inch. When I squinted at him, conveying, I was certain, my disdain, his head lifted sharply.
“If you’re trying to put the fear of God into me, perhaps you should come back later when I’m more awake. I haven’t had nearly enough coffee yet this morning to be able to process any terror or threats to my person. I need to be far more caffeinated.”
“You need to learn your place.”
I yawned dramatically. “That’s probably true, but would you rather stand here and debate that with me or leave and do something more productive?”
He snarled in frustration and then got himself under control, his voice retaining the guttural rasp of his wolf. “I just need to find my omega.”
Not Tabitha. Not his intended. He needed his omega. He called her that because that was all she was. His omega. His property.
What a catch he was. I had no idea why dear Miss Wellington didn’t want to bond with such a charming alpha.
Unfortunately, his attitude was hardly an anomaly. Normally, alphas, betas, and gammas only had a use for omegas when it was time to bond or fuck, so other than that, we were sort of left to our own devices and ignored. Unless you were from a wealthy family, as I had been. Then there were endless lessons, ranging from foreign languages and diction to knowing how to set a table for every occasion under the sun. But if you were an omega whose family did not have unlimited resources to help prepare you to be bonded into the highest echelon of lupine society, then basically you were trotted out at the gathering parties to hopefully be bonded to the first alpha who asked.
Tabitha Wellington was not a first come, first serve girl. She could have waited, as her family was rich. But apparently this man in front of me had offered, her father accepted, and now, basically she was his. It was an arranged marriage, it was Lizzy and Jane waiting for Darcy and Bingley to pull their heads out of their asses, and it was two kings marrying their kids off to make allies. The practice was ancient, but that didn’t mean that Tabitha Wellington wanted to be part of the history. She wanted out. She had gone into lavish detail in her email about how marrying an alpha who didn’t love her and who she didn’t love was a fate worse than death.
I understood her trepidation.
If an alpha didn’t find his mate by the time he was thirty, the chances were slim that he would. Taking an omega, genteel perfection in the flesh, was the second-best option to mating. The problem was that many alphas were angry about not finding their true mates, and in turn, took that seething frustration out on their lovely doormats who never fought back. I’d had many acquaintances over the years who, when I finally saw them after their bonding ceremonies, were no longer the vibrant, charming, full-of-life people I’d known. They were instead cowering, timid creatures who jumped at their own shadows. Even though physical damage could be healed with the shift from human to wolf, the psychological trauma, the memory, could not. They never laughed again. If I could prevent the stomping out of the fire inside of one more omega, I would try. It had become my new mission the moment I myself was freed.
“Hello,” the man growled, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Sir,” I began, giving my voice the razor-sharp edge that my mother had tried for years to have tutors quash, to no avail. No alpha wanted a shrill omega. “If you do not desist from raising your voice in my shop, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“And if I won’t?” He crossed his arms and gave me an indulgent smirk.
“Then I’ll call the police,” I told him flatly, glancing at his bodyguard, needing to gauge if he was going to attack me or not. Comforting to see the man standing idle.
That threat always surprised wolves, and he took a step back. “You would involve humans in our affairs?”
“In a heartbeat,” I assured him. “So you can either be polite and civil, walk around and wait for your little mindless omega to show up, or depart immediately. Your choice completely.”
He growled, and I picked up my phone from where I’d left it on the counter.
“You know, in my clave, betas know their place.”
I didn’t even correct him. Ever since I started working full-time, it was like every alpha I crossed paths with forgot how to tell an omega on sight. Suddenly, everything about me that screamed omega, my mannerisms, my voice—when I wasn’t being shrill—my makeup, my build, all of it was utterly overlooked. Not that I minded being mistaken for a beta, but really, it was fascinating, as was his use of the old, and now newly in vogue, word clave.
As an alpha, you could either lead a family, which might be yours and even one other, more a patriarch than anything else, or you were a cyne, a cynehlaford or king-alpha, and you were in charge of hundreds of families and you owned a great deal of land. But between those two there were those who headed three to five families, and there wasn’t a word for that. In recent years, as fortunes rose and others, at times, quickly fell, there had been a sharp rise in affluent alphas taking on friends of their families and not merely those who were blood related. There had become, seemingly overnight, a need for a word that meant more than a patriarch but not a cyne. Clave—shortened from enclave or derived from cleave, I honestly hadn’t been listening when Graeme was explaining—was the word that all the young alphas were using to explain their newly inflated status.
“I’m very glad I’m not a member of your clave, then,” I replied snidely.
He snatched my phone and glared at me. “And who is your alpha?”
“Oh, I don’t have an alpha,” I assured him with a simpering smile. “I have a cyne.”
Fun to watch his eyes go round as I’d enunciated the word on purpose. “You’re part of Graeme Davenport’s holt?”
Since there were only twelve cynes in the US, and Graeme was the only one in Illinois, it was an easy conclusion to draw. “I am,” I replied drolly, plucking my phone out of his hand.
It was childish, reveling in his discomfort, but as an alpha, Weston Gaines was used to throwing his weight around. But now, with me, he couldn’t. As a cyne, Graeme represented great power, which meant that a measly alpha, even ruling a clave, could not come into my shop and push me around. He’d have to answer to Graeme Davenport if he did so, and he definitely did not want that.
“I still have questions,” Weston grumbled softly, no longer trying to intimidate me, both his tone and manner ceasing to be combative.
“Which I do so wish I could answer,” I assured him.
He left then to walk around the store, and I heard Tabitha exhale in relief. My issue was, if he saw her, cyne or no cyne, he could take her. That was the law. He was well within his rights, and I couldn’t stop him, no one could, even Graeme. It was because Tabitha had the unfortunate luck of being born an omega.
I was fortunate. Graeme Davenport had bought my contract at the behest of his mate, my best friend, Avery, which released me from all financial and filial ties to my family, who had never cared for me as anything more than a commodity. It was a dream come true. But most omegas would never know that freedom. They had to either secure a bonding or be cast out of their childhood homes into the streets to sell their bodies for food. If they were blessed with loving families, then without a bonding, they would be sponging off their relatives for the remainder of their lives, doing nothing at all. The issue wasn’t drive or ambition, but perception. Omegas weren’t raised to be anything but bonded. Most weren’t educated beyond learning how to run a household. Things needed to change, and while Avery and Graeme were working on that from a lupine law standpoint, I was going at it from a less legal angle.
Once upon a time, I thought that becoming a bonded omega and living all my days in the lap of luxury was all I could aspire to. That had changed. Now I was a gallery curator, a shop owner, and at the moment, most importantly, I ran a clandestine network that made runaway omegas disappear into thin air.
Granted, most of the omegas I helped weren’t clutching my leg on the other side of my counter, hiding from the alpha they were running from. Thank God I’d had the presence of mind when I was renovating the shop to paint the backs of the cases black and not leave them clear. He would have seen her otherwise. She was also lucky that I ran a mixture of peppermint, lavender, lemon, eucalyptus, frankincense, and cardamom in the air year-round to make certain that no alpha could walk into the store and catch the scent of an omega. Graeme had expressed his displeasure over the smell of my store the one and only time he’d been in with Avery before they left for Boston two weeks ago to address the Maion Council on the subject of omega rights. He complained, loudly, that he couldn’t use his nose to find his mate, and he didn’t like that at all. I, on the other hand, was thrilled.
“The smell in here is quite disturbing to one’s senses,” Graeme had informed me in that tone he had where he came off brusque and a bit conceited.
I had waggled my eyebrows and assured him that was precisely the point. If I were the kind of person intimidated by scowling, I would have shriveled up and died right there, but people had been glaring at me my entire life. I was made of far stronger stuff. Which was why, when Weston Gaines returned quickly, glowering, I tipped my head back, rolled my eyes, and gave him an aggrieved sigh.
“There’s a whole store for you to––”
“I will find out who she was meeting here,” he snarled at me, “and God help you if you’re lying to me.”
I didn’t want to bait him, so I let the comment slide, watching as he turned and stalked away from the counter. If I didn’t have the woman who was hiding from him latched on to my leg, shaking with fear, I would have argued a bit over his whole God comment. From everything I’d been learning from going to church every Sunday with Roberta Massey, God seemed to be the type who would have been on my side instead of the alpha’s. I would have to ask her the next time I saw her. Because yes, I was lying, so how did the good Lord feel about shades of gray?
I stood there, silently waiting until he cleared the rack of Victorian evening gowns, then, knowing precisely how much time I had, I yanked Tabitha to her feet, thrilled that I still had my Prada down jacket on, grabbed her hand, and ordered her to run. The pained look on her face told me she was as fond of the activity as I was.
Of course, there was a third man—I had to remember to look out for those in the future—and he sent up the alarm.
“Mr. Gaines, she’s here!”
I didn’t wait for them; I ran out the back, into the alley, and closed the ridiculously heavy solid steel door behind me. Once it was locked, no amount of lupine strength was getting it open.
Racing between two brick buildings, dodging dumpsters and puddles, we made it to the sidewalk, darted across a busy intersection without getting hit, and I steered her toward the L so we could catch the Green Line out to Oak Park. The only thing we had going for us was that I was from Chicago and they were not. It ended up being the smallest of blessings, but at the moment, sitting together, heading away from danger, I was very thankful for anything I could get.
Twenty minutes later, Tabitha was confused when we took the stairs down from the platform in Oak Park to the parking lot below.
“I thought I was going to the airport,” she informed me.
“You are,” I assured her. “In Milwaukee.”
She squinted at me.
Taking her arm, I allowed her to huddle close to me even though there was no need for her to worry. She had a very short time left in Chicago, where her family and Alpha Gaines would surely spend quite a bit of time looking for her.
“Won’t they be coming after me?” she finally asked once we were at the bottom of the stairs. Something about being on solid ground appeared to have calmed her.
“By now, because he’s forced to, your intended alpha will go to the police. He’ll report you as being kidnapped by me. The police, being thorough, will have the airports, train and bus stations, and all the rental car companies on the lookout for you here in Chicago.”
“Oh,” she gasped in understanding.
“So my friends, right there,” I told her, pointing to the two women standing against the side of a building, who both waved when I pointed them out, “are going to drive you to Milwaukee and put you on a plane there, with your new ID.”
As we reached Leigh and Suzy, I introduced them, and both women hugged Tabitha and told her how brave they thought she was.
“You’re both human,” she said in surprise. “I’m sorry. I just had no idea humans cared about omegas.”
“Oh, of course we do,” Leigh told her, the slightest Southern accent warming her words and her accompanying smile making her cornflower-blue eyes glow. “The idea that you can be bought from your father and sold like a piece of meat to some alpha to do God knows what is obscene.”
“We’re here to help,” Suzy assured her, squeezing her hand, throwing her long black braid over her shoulder. “Luna,” she said, using my alias, “opened our eyes to the plight of the omegas, so we’re in this to help get as many of you out of these situations as possible.”
I used my own money to fund the ones who weren’t wealthy, buying documents, airfare, clothes, whatever was needed to secure them a new life. Those like Tabitha, whose allowance for daily purchases was insane, paid me up front. That money went into the pot for the next one who thought he, she, or they couldn’t get out. It was amazing how large the fund was after only three months. It had taken me a full thirty days to get everything working to where I trusted the system to hold up under scrutiny. Now, having placed over two dozen omegas in new lives, I was confident in my own ability.
Hopefully, with the Maion Council agreeing that omegas should have the same freedoms as other lupines, and the dryhten, the head of all the lupines in the US, agreeing to hear arguments from both sides—which was why Graeme and Avery and many others were in Boston for two weeks—we would finally see a change. Already laws had changed in Europe, where, particularly in Spain, omegas had been considered equal for the past two years.
“Well,” I announced, smiling at Tabitha. “You all need to go before another train lets out and we find that your intended alpha is on it.”
She nodded quickly, clearly frightened.
After I opened my arms, she lunged at me, embracing me tight. I gave her a gentle squeeze in return. I still wasn’t a great hugger, didn’t like a lot of people in my space, but my therapist—who Avery had pushed me to see, and Graeme, wanting to please him, had insisted on—assured me that with time, that would change. Protecting myself, which started with the physical, came from years of abuse, both physical and sexual, and those wounds would heal by putting in the work. As I had never been a fan of that particular endeavor, I found that being at home, either with Avery’s family or in my own palatial rooms, lowered my fear factor tremendously.
“You need to go,” I directed gently, and Suzy opened the back door of the Jeep Wagoneer so Tabitha could slide in. “I put a thousand on your expense account,” I informed Leigh.
She smiled and shook her head. “That’s not necessary, Luna,” she assured me, reaching out a hand, which I took hold of. “We do this because we can.”
“Yes, but gas money and some service on this wood-paneled monstrosity is probably a good thing, don’t you think?”
Quick nod from her as she squeezed my hand. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“You’ll let me know, of course, that she was dropped off safely, and when you two return as well.”
“Of course,” she agreed, giving me a nod before her face scrunched up. “This alpha saw you; they normally don’t. You’re going to have a bit more trouble than usual.”
I shrugged and then grinned slyly. “No more than with the Collins girl.”
She hissed at me. “We promised to never speak of that brat. Ever.”
“What’s wrong?” Suzy asked, leaning around the back of the Jeep.
Leigh gestured at me. “Luna just said the name of the devil.”
Suzy gasped. “The Collins girl? Why would you do that?”
“Could you two just go, please,” I groused at them. “For heaven’s sake.”
They both cackled evilly and got in the car. Turning away, heading back toward the train, I heard the engine start behind me and pivoted in time to see Tabitha Wellington wave at me from the back seat.
Climbing the stairs back up to the platform, I got on the L for my return trip downtown. I had to wonder how many police officers there would be at my shop to greet me when I arrived, and really hoped no one would touch anything. It had taken me a long time to get everything just so.
For a second,when I turned the corner and didn’t see anyone, I thought, well, finally, an alpha that was going to move on with his life and look for another sweet little omega instead of fixating on one. How refreshing! But of course, the closer I got, I realized that everyone had to have been sitting in their cars, parked somewhere farther down the street, waiting for me to show back up. It was March, after all; it was cold out. Better to sit inside heated vehicles.
When I was almost to my door, two patrol cars rolled up to the curb, and I stopped, because pretending they weren’t there or feigning surprise took quite a bit of energy, and I’d run already, and it wasn’t even time for lunch.
“Good morning,” I greeted everyone.
One of the most interesting things about omegas was that even humans had a soft spot for them, whether they realized it or not. The aura of an omega was, as a rule, gentle, soft, and somewhat fragile. There were exceptions to every rule. Avery, for one. Graeme had tried to explain to me that because Avery was meant to be mated instead of bonded, and with how he was raised like an alpha, not an omega, the whole delicate butterfly thing the rest of us had going had never settled in him. I didn’t buy that for a second. Avery had never been the least bit interested in anything quiet, genteel, or polished. He’d always seemed more beta to me, stronger, more heavily muscled, and terribly unkempt. But I was different. I was still the epitome of what an omega appeared to be. As a result, as the officers neared me, the two men and two women all smiled and nodded, and when I took a breath and widened my green eyes as they closed in, the one in charge—I knew what sergeant stripes were—was quick to tell me not to worry, they were just there to ask me some questions.
“He stole my omega!” Weston Gaines yelled as he charged up the sidewalk to us.
I took that moment to slip around the side of Sergeant Taylor—had to love name tags—
and then peek out at the murderous alpha.
“You need to stay where you are,” he ordered Gaines, pointing at him, his glare not friendly in the least. “We’ll be the ones speaking to Mr. Van Doren.”
“Are you kidding me?” he growled, gesturing angrily at me. “He was an asshole to me an hour ago, and now he’s acting like a scared little rabbit?”
The officer closest to him, a woman about my height, five nine, her long hair in a high bun, crossed her arms. “Sir, I understand that you’re an alpha and your omega has been kidnapped, but accusing another omega of that act is honestly ridiculous.”
His mouth dropped open. “He’s an omega?”
“Yessir,” she patronized him. “You can clearly see that.”
I blinked furiously as Sergeant Taylor turned to face me, and he immediately pulled some tissues from the pocket of his shirt and offered me one. “It’s all right; he’s not going to raise his voice anymore.” I nodded, and the sergeant moved so he was standing back beside me.
“I can’t believe this is happening!” Gaines roared, and I shivered violently.
Sergeant Taylor put his arm around me. “I’m warning you now,” he reproached him, “one more outburst and we’ll take you down to the station for questioning.”
Gaines’s brows were furrowed as he glanced at all the officers in front of him. The show of solidarity had to be infuriating, and if I were him, I would have had an aneurysm. I didn’t care. I was getting what I wanted, which in turn helped Tabitha, so as far as I was concerned, having to put on the old weak and vulnerable routine was worth it. At the moment, all four officers were glaring at the sputtering alpha.
“This is bullshit,” Gaines groused miserably.
“Sir,” the second male officer said, his tone icy, “was your omega kidnapped, or did they run away?”
“She was kidnapped by him!”
All four appeared skeptical.
“Why don’t we go inside my shop and discuss this,” I offered, gazing at all of them. “I could make you all some chai tea. I do a lovely blend with milk and honey.”
“Oh, I don’t know if––” Sergeant Taylor began.
“It will only take a moment,” I said, fluttering my lashes again just as I noticed two people walking up the street toward us, one with a stride that was engrained in my memory, a rolling swagger that was sexy and dangerous and infuriating all at the same time.
“Detective?” the second female officer, a curvy blonde, murmured, and the interest in her voice was obvious.
I kept the smile plastered on my face even as Wade Massey reached us.
His scowl was judgmental, and I had an urge to scream, but I forced my expression to remain pleasant instead.
“G’morning,” Wade greeted all the officers before turning his head to squint at Gaines. “Are you the alpha with the missing omega?”
“Yes,” Gaines answered irritably. “Are you here to get me some answers?”
“My partner and I are here to address your inquiry, as well as to question Mr. Van Doren about some other concerns,” he explained, enunciating my last name, sounding so snide that he brought a low growl up from my chest.
“Involving what, may I ask?” Sergeant Taylor wanted to know.
Wade’s gaze flicked to his arm around me, then back to the man’s face. “I’m sorry, Sergeant. I’m not at liberty to discuss that at this time.”
“Is it the other omega disappearances?” Taylor pushed him.
“There’s been others?” Gaines was surprised; it was there in his voice.
“Listen, Alpha,” Wade began, “we––”
“But he’s an omega himself,” Burns—the other male officer, I could see his name tag now—informed Wade.
“Yeah, I know,” he assured him, tipping his head toward the door of my shop. “We’d like to speak to you inside, Mr. Van Doren.”
I didn’t move; neither did anyone else.
He made a sound in his throat that was almost a growl. “You’re all dismissed,” he said to the other officers. “Moran and I have got this,” he clarified, indicating his partner with a nod.
All the officers turned to me.
“Are you ready, Mr. Van Doren?” Wade asked, the muscles cording in his neck. He wanted to murder me; that was more than obvious.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time right now to––”
“Make time,” he ordered, his voice dipping low, daring me to say another word.
Clearing my throat, I smiled at the officers. “Thank you all so much for being here when I returned. Had I been alone, Alpha Gaines would have given me a terrible fright. Please feel free to pop by whenever you’re in the neighborhood for that tea.”
Sergeant Taylor squeezed my shoulders before he let me go, and they all told me to take care. Turning, I walked toward the door of my shop, but before I reached it, Wade was there, opening it and holding it for me.
Rolling my eyes, I darted into the shop and would have kept going, but my bicep was grabbed tight, and I was held there, fuming, facing the counter where Elle was, her sepia eyes huge. I gave a quick shake of my head, letting her know I was fine, and she put a hand over her heart in relief.
Making sure I didn’t move, Wade stepped around in front of me, his scowl now a full glower, complete with furrowed brows.
“You’re in deep shit, ya know that?”
My right eye narrowed and fluttered in irritation.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“That in plain sight of the cash register is not where I’d like to conduct any sort of police inquiry,” I replied sharply, yanking my arm free and charging away.
“Stop,” he ordered, sounding like he was talking through gritted teeth.
I stood where I was, though I didn’t turn around, and when he reached me, leaning in, his mouth near my ear, his warm breath down the side of my neck, he told me if I tried to run again, he’d put me over his shoulder and carry me to my office.
My scoff was loud.
“Invite us to your office, and be nice about it,” he ordered, using his indulgent, patronizing tone that I hated.
“I want answers,” I heard Gaines snarl behind Wade.
“And you’ll have them,” Wade asserted, “but you’re going to need to wait out here, Mr. Gaines, or outside in your car, whichever you prefer.”
“No,” Gaines argued. “I am legally Tabitha Wellington’s alpha, and the law states that as her alpha, I can be a witness to any and all police matters involving her.”
“Not until the contract is signed and money exchanges hands,” Wade corrected him. “Isn’t that so?”
“I’m her intended, and she’s missing,” Gaines countered. “The rights are still mine.”
It was a gray area. Lupine law and human law were still, for the most part, divided. A beta, gamma, or omega fell under the discretion of their alpha or cyne, who had the right to make decisions for them. But Tabitha, technically, still belonged to her father. The issue was, he’d orally agreed to the bonding with Gaines which put Tabitha, at the moment, between alphas. Not that this mattered, really; it wasn’t like she was here. But still, Wade had to observe the letter of the law.
“Fine,” Wade agreed. “But you will allow me to ask the questions, and if you cause a disruption, I will either ask you to remove yourself or call Mr. Van Doren’s alpha to intervene on his behalf.”
He knew, of course, who my alpha was, and no way in hell did Gaines want him to make a call to Graeme Davenport the Fifth, Earl of Wakefield and Muir, and most importantly, one of the twelve cynes in the US who sat on the Maion Council. Graeme could have Gaines sanctioned just for annoying him.
“Yes, Detective,” Gaines muttered.
Walking them through my store, I wondered if it was weird for Wade to be the only human in the mix. There was me, Gaines, and his temporary partner—Moran, he’d said—who I had immediately read as beta or gamma. I couldn’t tell which she was. I knew alphas and omegas from a mere glance, but that was the extent of my ability to know, on sight, other classifications of wolves.
“He should be charged, Detective,” Gaines grumbled from behind me. “He was running with her, with Tabitha, I saw him.”
“But we don’t know why that was, Alpha,” Wade apprised him. “And until we do, no one’s being charged with anything.”
Wade Massey was not only Avery’s partner but also his closest human friend. I refused to say Wade was his best friend when that was clearly me. But Wade could hold the Homo sapiens title, and I could be the lupine Avery held most dear after his mate and family. When Avery and he had to figure out who killed a prominent alpha, and Avery became mated in the middle of that investigation, Wade was given a crash course on lupine customs. He’d learned everything about omegas in a very short time and had been there on one of the worst days of my life.
I’d been kidnapped, beaten, and violated, and when it was time to help me leave the basement where I was being held, it was Wade who carried me out. I could still recall being wrapped in his coat, tucked against his chest, and protectively placed on the gurney before I was lifted into the back of the ambulance. He held my hand on the ride to the hospital, stroked my hair, told me I would be all right, and promised to keep me safe.
“I don’t believe you,” I’d whispered.
He leaned in close so he could hear me.
“You’re not going to stay.”
“Oh, I’ll stay,” he’d promised, the smile curling his beautiful full lips, the light glinting in his copper-colored eyes that shone like new pennies. “You can count on that.”
But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I had faith in Avery because he’d always kept his promises, but no one else. There wasn’t another soul who truly cared about me.
Over these last four months I’d come to realize I was wrong.
Avery’s parents, both of them, cared for me. Graeme was distant, but he kept tabs on me and called me Linny, like Avery did, and that was nice. His grandmother was quite fond of me, to the point where gifts arrived out of the blue. I got cards in the mail, and she’d call just to say hello. I’d never had that in my life.
Avery called all the time when he was home. He invited me over constantly, dragged me to horrific places like hockey games and sports bars that were far too loud and had sticky furniture and floors. I preferred the ballet, the symphony, the opera, or seeing plays. Of course, what I preferred most of all was not seeing Wade Massey.
It was physically painful to be near him and not touch him.
He had a sinuous way of moving, fluid, like a dancer and an athlete combined, both graceful and powerful. What was infuriating was that the man knew he was gorgeous and sexy, and his arrogance was alluring and annoying in equal measure. He charmed everyone and used his husky voice and rakish smile to get everything from extra jalapeno poppers to free drinks to better seats. It was disgusting, and I told him so. Often.
“Oh c’mon, Linny,” he would tease me, leaning close, his lips near my ear. “I’ll be nice to you too.”
I could actually taste the blood in my mouth from my fangs trying to break through my gums so I could take a chunk out of him.
The worst was that he thought of me just as he did Avery or Graeme or Graeme’s brother, Stone, and he would sit shoved up against me on the couch, in the back seat of whatever car we were in, or in a booth at a club. Once when we’d gone bowling—Avery had smartly bought me my own shoes two days before; I was almost sick watching the man spray the shoes when people gave them back to him—Wade had actually sat on me, in my lap between turns.
“Aww,” Avery had goaded me, “I had no idea you could flush that shade of red.”
I wanted to die.
Wade had different scents to me, but at the moment he smelled like earthy musk and smoke and warm citrus and scorched leather, and I had the urge every time I inhaled him to open my mouth so I could taste his scent on my tongue. Licking the side of his neck had become an obsession that I curtailed only by turning down invitations.
Now, I always asked if Wade was going to be there before I accepted dinner dates or anything else. The only way I consented if he was going too was if Stone’s wife, Gigi, would be in attendance as well. She was a treat to be around, and since I was an omega and she was an alpha, she was drawn to me like bees to honey and ended up holding my hand and making certain no one glanced sideways at me. Her husband reminded her, often, that I didn’t belong to her. I liked when she came into my room while I was getting ready and sat with me at my vanity and looked at my wide variety of lip gloss while I put on my makeup.
What I didn’t like was that when we went out and everyone paired off, even when Wade had a date, he’d stick beside me. He had a habit of putting an arm around the back of my chair, picking things off my plate, and ruining my glorious couture with the addition of some garment of his. I had shivered the last time we were at a club, and I was suddenly swimming in a red Chicago Bulls hoodie. The fact that the garment fell to mid-thigh was ridiculous. There was no way to be sexy with sleeves covering your hands, and having the man’s scarf wrapped up over my nose didn’t work either. The fact that his stupid scent was all over his clothes did nothing for my mood.
And now he was here, in my shop, with his temporary partner, siding with Weston Gaines against me.
Worst. Day. Ever.
“I want my omega now!” Gaines bellowed, reaching for me.
Wade grabbed the alpha’s wrist and shoved him away hard enough that he had to take several steps back to keep his balance. “If you touch Mr. Van Doren, this investigation, that at the moment could include your omega, won’t, and you’ll be right back at square one.”
He was surprised, I was guessing, that Wade had touched him and, even more so, had been able to exert enough force to push him away. I suspected that somewhere back in Wade’s family tree there was a wolf. I knew, of course, that humans and lupines had been mixing for ages, but when I had asked Avery about it, he said that as far as he knew, as far as Wade had told him, there was no lupine blood in him. My instinctive desire to submit to him spoke to a deeper truth, though, and hiding it became that much harder every time I saw him. I knew that the easy answer was to stop seeing him. What wasn’t so simple was how much my heart hurt just considering that option.