Emily
We email our signed contracts just before midnight, then tumble into Derek’s bed, both too strung out for more than a quick shower and goodnight kiss. I can feel the tension radiating off him even in his dreams, and I’m still awake when I get a text from Claudia asking if I can come home to get Jacob ready for school. Mum is still locked in her room in a depressed funk, and my sister has a double shift none of us can afford for her to miss.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper as I slide out of bed and start hunting for my clothes.
Derek rolls over and pushes himself up on his arms, blinking at me. He looks rough, and I don’t think it’s just the pre-dawn light that makes his face look so grey. “I think I need to get some aspirin or something.”
I press a hand to his forehead and frown. “You’re definitely warm. How’s the throat?”
“Bad enough that I won’t be kissing you for a while,” he says in a scratchy voice, and I immediately want to lean forward and lick the pout off his face. “I’ll be fine. I’ve still got all the vitamins you stockpiled from last flu season.”
I’ll admit, I’m a little obsessed with preventative medicine. But as betas, we don’t have the natural healing powers of other designations. If we get sick, we battle through as best we can with over-the-counter meds, while omegas bathe in vats of therapeutic alpha juice. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard, since most of the alphas in my life have been more interested in hurting me than healing me.
“You need some of my famous chicken noodle soup,” I declare, slipping my feet into my converse and mentally ticking off ingredients in my head. “I’ll come over right after work and make you some, okay?”
Derek groans and swings his feet to the floor. “I don’t want you going there on your own, Em.”
“I’ve already been into the heart of the lair and survived.” I giggle at the face he pulls. “I just mean that I don’t need you to hold my hand. I like you holding it, but I can do this. You know I’m tougher than I look.”
He sweeps me into the V of his thighs, and I try to cuddle closer, but he leans back so I’m not breathing in his germs. “I don’t doubt it, Em. You’re one of the toughest people I know.”
“Then you should take a few days off and get better.” He’s already told me that he won’t be going back to his old job, so whatever stuff he left in his office is now property of the investigation. “We can cover the bills together or ask Clark to give us a couple of weeks leeway on the rent.”
“It’s not a problem,” he tells me tiredly, resting his head against my belly. “But you’ll text me all day, right? And I’m going to call Clark and tell him to look out for you, just so you don’t have to rely on Finn Visser showing you around.”
His voice is so sour, I have to bite back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the big boss will be too busy to give me the time of day, but I’d love to see Clark.” I bend down and kiss his warm forehead. “Come on, get back into bed while I grab some juice and those vitamins.”
He doesn’t fight me as I tuck him in, and he’s almost asleep when I come back with the supplies. I make him finish the glass of juice, and then replace it with a bottle of water, adding some throat lozenges to his bedside table. He mumbles a faint goodbye, and then I’m hurrying to grab my bag and snag his hoodie, already in the process of booking a ride as I walk outside.
It’s still a little before six, and I shiver in the chill air as I pull his hoodie on. I can’t really afford the Uber, but it will take me an hour to get home by bus, and Finn texted me last night to say he’d organise a lift for my first day.
There’s no traffic so I’m home in no time. After checking on Jacob, I take another quick shower and get started on my makeup. After going to the interview in a band tee and converse, I want to put a little more effort into my appearance for my first day. I do a subtle smoky eye and gloss up my lips, before twisting my hair into a tight bun. I only have one suit that looks even vaguely corporate, and I’m squeezing my toes into a pair of navy pumps when a small hand taps me on the hip.
“Aunty Em, Gran is still in bed, and I poured orange juice on myself.”
I turn to find my nephew staring up at me with big, regretful eyes. He’s wearing his Spiderman pyjamas and there’s a big yellow stain on his chest to go with the Corn Flakes stuck in his hair. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll help you clean it up.”
I wash his sticky fingers, then steer him back to the table to finish his breakfast. When he’s done, I help him change into his uniform, then plant him on the sofa with my phone. I give the kitchen a quick clean, packing his lunch in his schoolbag before going in search of my mum. Her door is unlocked, which is usually a good sign, but when I go inside, she’s an unmoving lump under her silk comforter.
“Mum, you need to get up. Jacob’s fed and dressed, but you have to take him to school.”
There’s a soft sniff from under the blankets and a puff of sour omega perfume fills the air. “No one needs me. I'm useless. I can't help anyone. You look after him, since he likes you best.”
Shit. This is worse than mum’s usual response when she’s having what she calls a low day. “I've got work. He’s ready to go, but someone is picking me up and I can’t be late.”
“You work in a bookshop.” The sniff has a touch of disdain about it now. “What do you even earn in a shift? We need you here . I can’t do everything, you know.”
I ignore the sharp bite to her tone, moving over to the window and pushing the heavy velvet curtains aside. Mum hisses and flings up an arm like a vampire under threat of torture, but I just crack the window open, filling the stuffy room with fresh air. “Come on, Mum. It’s a lovely day outside and you'll feel better with a cup of tea inside you.”
“I can make marmalade toast, Gran!” Jacob announces from the doorway. “With butter to the edges, just how you like it.”
I turn to give him a grateful smile, but he’s already gone, thumping down the hall in his heavy school shoes to get Mum’s breakfast started. I grit my teeth and reach for the edge of the comforter right as the front doorbell chimes. Jacob’s shoes clomp to the door, and I can hear a rumbling voice that he answers in a sweet mumble.
“Shit! Get up, Mum. You can come home and have a nap later.”
I don’t wait to see if she’s listening, sprinting down the hall with my heart in my throat. As far as I’m aware, taxi drivers don’t come to the door, which must mean it’s Rick making another of his impromptu and very unwelcome visits.
God, what will I do if he’s turned up here to turf us out or force me onto my knees?
I skid to a stop as I find Professor Fall crouched by the front door, studying the plastic superhero in Jacob’s hand. “What are you doing here?”
Langston rises slowly, his gaze sweeping over my navy pantsuit and white blouse. I feel a bit like I’m Agent Scully on the way to a crime scene, especially when his eyes twinkle in that bewitching way. “I'm your ride. You look very beautiful, .”
“She borrowed the suit from mum,” Jacob pipes up, giving me a sticky grin. He was clearly sampling the marmalade while he was on breakfast-in-bed duty, and I can see his fingerprints on Langston’s sleeve. He always looks amazing in his leather jacket, but I can’t help staring at him in his tailored slate-grey suit. Somehow, the thin pinstripes make the gold highlights in his auburn hair even brighter, and I have to fight the urge to stroke the corded muscle straining against the white collar of his shirt.
“Aunt Em has a lot on her plate, so I have to be extra good today.”
My nephew’s revelation yanks me out of my daze, and I make a mental note to remind Dee that her son is the human equivalent of a talking parrot, repeating every word his little ears pick up.
“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late,” I tell Langston as I steer Jacob over to the kitchen sink, grimacing at the smudges of butter on his polo shirt. I quickly wash his hands again, dabbing at the worst of the mess with a damp towel. I glance back at Langston, wondering if I should offer him the towel for his jacket sleeve, when I catch him watching us like he’s never seen a sticky six-year-old before. “My mum’s not feeling well, so I’ll need to get Jacob to school. I should be only an hour late, tops.”
“Is it the flu, like Derek?” I look at him in surprise and he says, “I went there first, thinking that’s where you live.”
“Oh. I am. I mean, I’m planning to move there, but I need to help out here first.”
“, who is that?”
I bite back a curse at my mother’s curious voice, turning to find her posing in the doorway like a film star from the forties. Delicate curls frame her face, and she’s wearing lipstick and a silk robe. Anyone would think she’s blooming with health, and there’s no denying the excited gleam in her eyes as she looks Langston over. “This is Professor Fall from uni. Langston, this is my mum, Lorelei Nash.”
“Please, call me Lori,” my mother trills, coming forward with both hands extended. Langston shakes them like she’s made from spun sugar, and I can barely stop my eyeroll. “And aren’t you a handsome alpha! No wonder spends all of her time at the university. Are you one of her lecturers?”
My face is so hot it physically hurts. “Mum…”
“I’m her career mentor, actually,” Langston interjects with a twinkle in my direction. “Not that she requires much direction. Your daughter is a very dedicated, intelligent woman.”
The glance he slides my way makes my cheeks burn, but my mum now looks ten years younger. “Oh, indeed she is.” She grips Langston’s bicep as she steers him towards the kitchen table. “But did she get you a cup of tea? I try my best, but sometimes the proper etiquette slips her mind.”
I gnash my teeth as I follow in their wake, Jacob buzzing with excitement at the thought of a second breakfast. Or more accurately his third, since marmalade is smeared across the bench and there are two burnt pieces of toast sizzling in the sink. My mum ignores it all, sweeping Langston over to the table and settling him in a chair, then shooting me a pointed look at the teapot. Knowing it’s easier to just go along with her when she’s in this mood, I pour a cup and set it in front of Langston.
My mother sinks into the chair beside him, her omega perfume now as sweet as the marmalade I’m trying to scrape off the bench. “Are you mated, Professor Fall?”
I drop the sticky knife with a clatter. “Mum!”
“Do you have an omega at home?” My mum powers on, ignoring my glare. “You must be in a pack, given how dominant you are.”
I give a soft groan, wondering how I can be accused of poor etiquette when my mum blurts out shit like this.
But Langston just gives me a careful look. “An informal one. We're close friends and have known each other for years, so I expect things will progress soon.”
This is news to me, and I’m now channelling my nephew, my ears straining to pick up every nugget of information. When he says they’re close friends, does he mean my new boss? That hunky Head of Security? Or someone at the university? According to university gossip, he’s courting half the faculty and more than a few students.
“And an omega?” My mother asks, a touch of tension in her voice. “Is there someone special you’re planning to bring into your pack?”
Langston sips at his tea, no doubt feeling the cloying anticipation in the room. “Yes,” he says finally, the sparkle gone from his eyes. “There's an omega we’re very close to.”
My mother deflates like a wilting flower, her eyes drifting around the room before settling on me. I have no idea what she can read on my face, but she gets slowly to her feet, suddenly looking all of her sixty-three years. “Hmmm. I see. Well, don't let us keep you. It's very generous of you to give a lift to the bookshop. She's a hard worker, and this is all temporary, you understand?” She waves an elegant hand around the drab kitchen. “We're moving out soon, just as soon as we get our affairs in order.”
Sooner than she probably thinks, now that Rick is breathing down our necks. But I plaster a bland smile on my face as Langston pushes to his feet, carrying his teacup over to me. “It was delicious tea, Mrs. Nash, and I appreciate you welcoming me into your home.”
I avoid his eye as I take the cup and give it a quick rinse. When I walk over to my mother, she’s still staring at the faded wallpaper. “Will you be okay with Jacob?”
“Of course!” She whirls on me, her smile too wide, and I’m again reminded of a broken doll. “We're going to bake lemon tarts, aren’t we sweetie?”
“It's a school day, mum. You need to drop him off.”
“I know!” She gives an aggrieved huff. “ After school, I mean. I better get dressed or we’ll be late.” She flutters to the door, pausing only to glance at Langston. “It was lovely to meet you, Professor Fall.”
“Langston,” he corrects her gently. “And I look forward to our next meeting.”
I leave them to their goodbyes, making sure Jacob has his backpack before collecting my own purse. Langston meets me at the door, and we silently descend the narrow stairwell in single file. I refuse to wonder what he thinks of the apartment building with its dirty walls and broken elevator, burnt food smells and angry words seeping under my neighbours’ doors. I have no idea if he lives in university housing or has a place off campus, but my brows shoot up to find a sleek black limousine pulled up at the curb. “Is this yours?”
“I'm working at the facility today.” He pulls the back door open, giving me a soft smile. “It made sense to pick you up on the way.”
I nod, but before I can climb into the car, a familiar, spiteful voice makes me stumble, and I have to grip Langston’s arm to stop myself falling off the curb. “Don’t waste much time, do you, ?”
Rick is barrelling towards us, his eyes wild and his lip curled. He’s in his sports bar gear, which includes an American baseball jacket and jeans, and the closer he gets, the more bitter his scent becomes. He looks like he’s a second away from punching Langston in the face, and I shift my body to cut him off. “This is none of your business, Rick, and we’re just leaving.”
His narrowed glare rakes down my body before he turns to the apartment building. “Is your sister home? She has papers she needs to sign now I’m your new landlord.”
My stomach clenches, because the last thing I need is him catching my mum in her current mood. She’d probably sign whatever he put in front of her, and we’d be stuck in that apartment at twice the rent for the next five years. “Claudia is at work, but if you give me the papers, I’ll make sure she gets them.”
Rick’s gaze returns to Langston, lingering on where I’m still clutching his arm. I let go abruptly, but I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Rick’s jealous streak is a mile wide, and he’s always preferred to be the most dominant alpha in the room. The guys at his sports bar almost revere him, calling him the Ultra Alpha after all the gruelling marathons he runs, but even in his elegant suit it’s clear Langston has him beat in the power stakes.
“They’re in the car,” Rick says quickly, grabbing my hand and jerking me towards his BMW. “Why don’t you come with me and get them?”
“Why don’t you back off before I break your arm?” I’ve never heard a growl like the one that comes out of Langston’s chest, and I’m shocked to see him snarling in Rick’s direction. Those cords of muscle in his neck that I admired earlier are now pulsing with fury, his eyes alight with blue fire. I jerk my hand free, but my ex is either too surprised or too stupid to move.
I think it’s only the snap of the driver’s door opening that stops Langston from lunging at Rick.
“No need to get messy, Lang. I have this.” Creed is out of the car and circling towards us before I can blink. He’s in the same black suit he wore at my interview, only it now ripples on his skin, the soldier inside surging to the surface. There’s no mistaking the gun under his jacket as he stalks towards Rick, who’s backing off at full speed. “Let’s go fetch these papers, Rick. And just to be clear, any future business you have with Ms. Nash or her family goes through me, got it?”
Rick shoots me a venomous glance, but Creed has him by the arm and is forcibly marching him towards his car. I watch until Rick pops the trunk, then turn to Langston, who is breathing so hard his shirt is straining against his chest. “It’s okay,” I tell him softly. “He’s really not worth you getting this upset.”
“He wasn’t just planning to give you something, ,” he spits, still glaring after my ex. “I could smell it. He was going to shove you into that car and drive off.”
“And you and Creed would have stopped him. Or I would have waited for the first red light, punched him in the balls, and walked straight to the nearest police station.”
I don’t give him a chance to argue, nudging him towards the open car door. He gets in reluctantly, but as I slide in beside him, he puts an arm around me and pulls me close. I freeze, completely stunned when he buries his face in my hair, breathing in so deeply I can hear it catch in his chest. “You have to get away from here, . I won’t sleep at night if that guy has a set of keys to your apartment.”
“That’s never going to happen,” I tell him, my voice cracking at the way he’s holding me. Waves of anger are still coming off him, but his hands are brushing over me like he’s checking me for damage, and I can hear a faint purr under his growl. It makes my needy heart thump, but I give it an internal scolding. He might feel protective of me right now, but he has a pack of his own, and a cherished omega he plans to bond someday soon. “Besides, I’m living with Derek, remember? This was just me helping my family out.”
“You can give it but not take it?” He asks gruffly, sitting back with a sigh. “Okay, but at least let me check out your landlord. There’s no way that guy isn’t mixed up in some bad shit.”
I twitch, tugging the cuff of my blouse down over my wrist. “His name’s Rick Wagner, and he owns a sports bar downtown. We dated for a year before I broke up with him.”
Langston has gone completely still beside me. “He hurt you.”
It’s not a question, and I wonder if he’s just assuming, or if he can smell that, too. “It’s over, and as soon as my family moves out of here, he’ll be gone from our lives for good.”
Creed opens the door at that moment, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Your sister’s not signing that bullshit lease,” he says with a flash of dark eyes in the rear-vision mirror. “I told him we’ll get the health inspector and a civil engineer out here to look at the entire property unless he pulls his head out of his arse.”
“Um… thanks,” I reply, not quite sure how to handle so many protective vibes being thrown my way at once. “And I appreciate the lift, but you don’t need to do it again. I’ll be better organised tomorrow.”
Creed just grunts and starts driving, so I take a moment to settle back in my seat and look around. I’m not sure if you’d call it a limousine since it’s more like an oversized SUV with a mounted TV screen, docking station, and a small drinks bar at one end. Maybe a mobile office? It definitely smells like alpha, along with the rich scent of the leather seats and whatever aftershave Langston is wearing. “It’s a stretch Hummer,” he murmurs, catching my gaze. “It looks ridiculous, but Creed insists it’s the safest vehicle on the road.”
My lips twitch at the exasperation in his voice, but it confirms what I thought. “He’s one of your packmates, isn’t he?” Creed’s gaze snaps to mine, but I keep my focus on Langston. “Who else? Mr. Visser?”
“Like I told your mum, there’s nothing official, but the three of us are close.”
Creed gives a grunt that draws my gaze. “You met her mum?”
“We had tea together,” Langston smirks, stretching out his long legs. “And a nice chat about my mating plans.”
“There was nothing nice about it,” I mutter, but now the topic is on the table... “And the omega you’re going to bond with? Is she part of the company, too?”
Creed is silent, but I can feel the weight of his stare as Langston takes a manila folder from the seat opposite and hands it to me. “Soren Hill,” he says, gesturing for me to open it. “He’s the real reason the project exists.”
I look at him curiously, then turn the page, staring down at the headshot attached to the file. It’s a candid shot, taken at a beach somewhere with the ocean as a sparkling backdrop. Soren looks twenty at most, and he’s wearing a faded singlet and sandy boardshorts, his chin tilted up and his thick black lashes curling on tanned cheeks. His hair is almost blue-black in the sunlight, damp enough to be swept back from his forehead, but still curling around his ears. He has a strong nose and dark pink lips which are curved wide in a mischievous grin. But it’s his eyes that draw me in – the deepest, warmest chocolate colour I’ve ever seen, even though his lashes have obscured most of the iris. He looks so carefree and happy, I can’t help but trace the shape of his smile. “He’s beautiful.”
“He’s very important to us,” Langston says slowly, and I try to ignore the way my heart thumps against my ribs. “But first and foremost, he’s Creed’s mate.”
My head snaps up, and I’m quick enough to catch the searing pain in Creed’s eyes before he looks back at the road. They’re dark like Soren’s, but hard as granite, while his omega’s are warm and full of life. I’m certain there’s only one reason Creed could look so gutted at the thought of his mate. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?” Creed’s shoulders curl forward, and I realise how insensitive that sounds. “I’m sorry, I should just read the file.”
“He’s in pain,” Creed bites out, his jaw clenched so tight the skin has lost all colour. “Nearly every hour of every day. Which is why we need to wrap this damn project up and get him the help he needs.”
I study him for a moment longer, committing the stark misery on his face to memory. Up until this second, this project was just a way to pay the bills and make sure Derek’s slate is clean with Finn Visser, but there’s obviously a lot more at stake. “I’m so sorry to hear that. And I’ll do everything I can to help.”
It’s not much of a promise, given I know next to nothing about the work they’re doing, but a look flashes between the two alphas, and then Creed gives me a tight nod. “Appreciate it. This is a team effort, so we’ll definitely take you up on it.”
He turns his attention back to the road, so I spend the rest of the drive reading Soren Hill’s file. His birthday is in January, which means he’s nearly twenty-four. He was studying environmental science on the east coast before he joined a research project through a company called Vast Horizons. There’s not much in the file about their study, just that Soren volunteered and underwent three treatments over two years. Counting back, he was only twenty at the time, and I wonder what drove him to join the study. Scientific curiosity, maybe, or financial hardship, like so many students before him?
“Was his university involved in the study with Vast Horizons?”
“No, it was military funded.”
I look up slowly. “He joined a two-year military study at the age of twenty?”
“He had a scholarship, but also a lot of medical debt from an illness in the family,” Langston tells me. “They were about to lose his childhood home, so he signed up for the full course.”
“Course,” I repeat, flicking pages and scanning them for more details. “There’s not a lot of information on the study. It just says, ‘designation enhancement through hormonal and behavioural stimulation.’” It seemed to focus on something called the Command Method. According to the notes, it targeted the hypothalamus for the production of survival hormones, and the basal ganglia for reward processing, habit formation, movement and learning. “What was the end goal?”
“Changing designations at will.” Up until this point, Langston has fed me the answers, but while I’ve been absorbing the file, Creed has pulled into an undercover parking garage, and he turns and stares at me now. “They injected him with some shit, then put him through a bunch of tests to get him to shift to an alpha.”
I sit forward suddenly, the file almost slipping off my lap. “What do you mean? He’s an omega, isn’t he?”
“He’s… messed up,” Creed says slowly, turning off the car, his shoulders slumping. “In short, the army wanted a magical equation that could increase or decrease the dominance of their soldiers. Their bumper sticker bullshit was ‘betas in the barracks, but ferals on the frontline’. They figured if they could turn designations on and off, they’d have the perfect army.”
“Jesus,” I sigh, thinking of all those classified conversations I heard through my father’s office door. “Was my father involved with this?”
“Only remotely. The PsyOps team were focused on the command and reward part, but except for in a few cases, the hard science kept letting them down. The subjects kept overdosing on the stimulant before they could start the behaviour modification. Turns out, alpha juice can be highly addictive when you jack it up with all sorts of chemicals and hormones.”
I can’t help staring at him in shock. Alpha juice? It might be a bit of a joke between betas, but I know that alphas take it seriously. It’s something they share almost exclusively with their mates, given its healing properties as well as the fact it takes intimate forms, like saliva, sweat, and semen. My mind whirls at how Soren came to be ‘stimulated’ by it, and what excessive exposure might have done to him. “I’m so sorry, Creed.”
It feels inadequate, but he gives another nod and climbs out, circling around to our door. I take a moment to look at Langston, who is watching me run my fingers lightly over Soren’s smiling picture. “Is this why you were gone for three months?”
He stiffens, but the regret in his scent dissolves some of the lingering hurt over his abrupt absence. “I should have stayed in touch more. Explained what I was doing, at least in general terms. There’s no excuse for what I did, but I can only say that this whole situation has been difficult to manage.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m here now. I really want to help in any way I can.”
Langston takes my hand and clasps it between his. “Just remember, help goes both ways. And at any time, you have every right to take a step back, okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure what he’s referring to. Maybe he’s still mulling over my home situation, now that he’s had the dubious pleasure of meeting Rick. Which reminds me, I need to text Claudia and warn her that he’ll be on the warpath after tangling with a pair of dominant alphas. Help, I’ve often found, can backfire spectacularly when fragile egos are in play.
But everything else will have to wait, because as I climb out of the car, I realise that Finn Visser is standing in the doorway of the garage, waiting for us.
And the look on his perfect face could only be described as eager.