Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jax
Heavy is the Head
I pull off on the side of the road because I have a feeling I want my full concentration on this call. “Hey, Saw. Do I want to hear this?”
He snorts. He’s 94, older than me, but I’ve always gotten along well with him. “Naw, but you’re gonna hear it anyway.”
“Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Rip the bandage off.”
“Well, when we finish this call I’ll send you the link to download the files. I played the voicemails on the phones you sent, and read the email and DMs in all his socials.”
“How bad?”
“Pretty bad. I also have a few pictures for you.”
“Pictures?”
“Yeah…”
By the time our conversation ends ten minutes later, the thought of turning my truck around and driving to Atlanta and pounding Randolph Sterling into a bloody pulp with my bare hands is looking better by the minute.
Because I’ve downloaded the files and listened to the voicemails, and even if I had still been thinking about sending Mal away, those would have cinched my determination to keep him here and keep him safe.
Long story short, Morning was right that people are actively looking for Mal.
Sterling’s people.
And he was also right that if Sterling’s people get their paws on Mal, he’s dead.
It settles the matter. I have to talk with Todd and Mal, and we need to come up with a plan ASAP to get Mal smelling like pack until we can put him through a full initiation.
I pull back onto the road when my phone rings again.
Fucking hell.
Thank the Goddess for hands-free car mode. I punch into the call. “Jax Crowe.”
“Hi, sir. This is Carson Odette.”
I quickly scan my memory. I believe he’s one of the gammas living in a group house on the compound. “What can I do for you, Carson?”
“Well, sir, several of us from our gamma house were at the meeting last night.”
I suppress my grumble because I have a suspicion this will not go well. “And?”
“For starters, we completely support you and have already talked to Chaz about volunteering to be sentries.”
Okay, that’s a pleasantly unexpected U-turn. “Thank you, Carson. I appreciate that.”
“What I drew the short straw on this morning is calling you about Burt Smithe.”
So much for hoping this conversation will go well. “What about him?”
“He knocked on our door about thirty minutes ago asking if he can move in with us.”
I’m confused. “I don’t understand the purpose of this call. You guys get to decide who lives with you. That’s the point of having multiple houses.” Although, for the most part, they tend to group together—omegas with omegas, gammas with gammas, and so forth.
“I know, sir. They gave him 72 hours to vacate the omega house he’s in, and the other omega houses already told him fuck no, he can’t move in.”
“And?”
“I know you don’t usually get involved in house politics unless it’s a health and safety issue, but we… Well, we need a judgment call.”
“You guys can vote not to allow him.”
“One of our guys made a suggestion, and it’s sort of popular, but we want to get a ruling from you before we get ahead of ourselves and make him the offer.”
I’m back to rubbing my forehead with my free hand while I drive with the other. “I’m driving, Carson. Can we please get to the tl;dr portion of this call?”
“Oh, sorry, sir. Can we use him as our house slut?”
I blink. “I’m sorry, as your what?”
“He’d have to agree to it, obviously. We don’t mean force him to do it. But can we make it a condition of his residency that he has to be, you know, on call? Sexually? I guess that’s the only thing he’s good at and enjoys doing.”
Okay, so at least one funny development has cropped up this morning.
This I can easily deal with. “I don’t care if he has to walk around carrying a rubber chicken in his mouth.
As long as there’s no harm, and you don’t make him get tattoos or piercings or anything, if you guys set a condition that he has to be available as a cumdump and he agrees, go for it.
Negotiate hard limits and safe words, obviously, and post them prominently.
And give him at least one day off a week, and stipulations for holidays and illness and stuff.
But if he agrees to the conditions, and I suggest getting his signature on them, go for it.
Make sure you have clear terms for what happens if he doesn’t fulfill his obligation. ”
“Thank you, sir. We know damned well from the guys at his current house we can’t rely on him to do chores, and we have two extra rooms no one’s using, so it’s not like he’s taking up space we need.”
“Have fun and carry on.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I end the call. The thought of Burt blowing up his life by being an asshole—and it wasn’t only last night he was an asshole, that was just his most public instance of it—is ironic.
Then again, if he’s one of the hornier omegas, this might be a perfect fit.
A couple of the unmated male omegas who live in group houses are basically sugar puppies to some of the unmated Alphas and betas.
They don’t want to live with the Alphas—or vice versa—but they have no problem being in a situation-ship with them.
Hey, if they’re happy doing it, and no one’s getting hurt or being forced to do it, I refuse to be an asshole and tell them no, they can’t. Especially if they’re omegas who don’t have any marketable skills and they have fun being sugar puppies.
Most of the unmated omegas in the group houses have jobs or careers, or even run their own businesses.
If they want to attend college or a trade school, the pack will even pay for that.
It’s not uncommon for them to live in the group houses to shore up their savings so they can eventually build their own house on the compound.
We have plenty of unmated omegas who own their own homes, or who share a house with another omega.
But Father believed—and I agree—that it’s better to have safe homes for the unmated omegas who might otherwise end up in situations that aren’t good for them because they’re worried about making it on their own.
Not to mention it makes managing mating heats a lot easier on everyone.
Each group home has its own personality based on the people living in it.
When new omegas join the pack—like Mal—one of the reasons we introduce them around to the group homes isn’t just for the sex as part of the initiation process, but also to see if there’s an obvious and immediate fit between the new member and a particular house.
Obviously, they’re allowed to change houses as they want to, if there’s agreement by all the members of the house they want to move to, as well as available space.
We added the newest house last year to help them spread out.
They’re also grouped close by, basically shifter frat houses around a common green without the excessive partying and hazing bullshit.
Obviously, there’s a uniform set of pack rules they all must follow if they want to be allowed to live in pack housing. Beyond those basic rules, it works out better to let each house shake out into the personalities that get along best together.
I’m maybe twenty minutes from the compound when my phone rings, again, but it’s Todd’s custom ringtone.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Jax, um, can you swing by my place?”
There goes what little bit of chill I’d regained following the call with Carson. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer at first, but when he speaks, I can’t interpret his tone. “This is a conversation that needs to happen in person.”
Crap. “I’m about fifteen minutes out. See you there.”
“Thanks.”
I end the call and seriously consider turning the damned thing off.
Great muppety Goddess, what fresh hell is this?