Chapter 8 #3
Emory had been responsible for hosting the first half of the event, and he was tempted to make a blanket announcement that no, he was not aware of Jonathon’s whereabouts right now.
In fact, he wasn’t aware of anything to do with his beloved cousin.
The hurt that had long since settled about being abandoned by his cousin and best friend flared to life anytime someone asked him, so he really just needed everyone to stop asking him!
He obviously couldn’t say any of that, though.
Obviously.
So instead, he was currently being hounded by an obnoxious flock of flamingos they did business with down in the South.
They were notorious gossips on a good day, but today they were ruthless.
Emory could swear he could almost see their long beaks pecking at him, trying to find any weakness in him and his company that meant they should take their business elsewhere.
He had only had to use this trick once before, but he subtly took his phone out of his pocket and announced he was getting a call.
He hurried away, pressing the silent phone to his ear as he headed for a semi-empty table in the back of the room.
He sat down with a soft huff, and since his phone was already in his hand, he began scrolling through Cameron’s social media page.
It had become a bad habit of his over the past few nights to look at photos of his fated mate when he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus, or generally couldn’t.
The number of times he felt like he just couldn’t anymore was growing alarmingly fast.
Someone at the table tried to talk to him, but he gave them a vague response and stood up to continue his rounds of the room. His focus drifted in and out between conversations as his lion became more and more agitated. He had never liked events like this, but today it all felt like too much.
He began moving faster from group to group, hoping that if he could finish one full round of the room, he could call it a job well done and go find Christopher. He hadn’t seen much of his COO, and he desperately needed a friend right now.
As an alpha and omega business partner duo approached him, he wished, for the fiftieth time that evening, that he had asked Cameron to come.
He managed to make it through three more interactions before he finally spotted Christopher.
He was watching Emory closely, but when Emory tried to go to him, he was intercepted by two of his mother's guests.
He tried to focus on the conversation, he really did, but his lion was anxiously growling, and he couldn’t stop tapping his foot.
One of the guests gave him a strange look, but was quickly pulled back into the conversation by his partner.
Another guest made a joke that Emory missed half of, and when he tried to fake a laugh, it came out more like a seal bark.
He cleared his throat and excused himself to go get some water.
He made it halfway to the refreshments table when his lion began to keen pathetically.
Gods, Emory also wasn’t enjoying the event, but he didn’t think it was that bad.
Sure, he was incredibly uncomfortable in his suit, which had somehow gotten tighter and more uncomfortable since the last time he wore it.
He also missed Cameron so badly it felt like his bones were aching, and he hadn’t been fully present in a conversation in hours, but—
Emory was snapped out of his musing when a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and led him off to a secluded corner. Both his and his lion's hackles raised, and he was ready to rip himself out of the person’s grasp when he recognized Christopher’s scent.
“Chris—”
“Emory, I need you to listen very closely to me. Can you do that?” Christopher murmured.
He had them facing the stage where a jazz duet was performing, but Christopher seemed to be blocking Emory from the audience’s view.
“I… Yes, I can list—”
“Okay. Then I need you to understand that I am saying this as your friend and not as your COO because gods know, this would be grounds for a sexual harassment charge if anyone else did it, but… Emory, you’ve been sporting an erection for a solid twenty minutes now.”
Emory tried to rip out of Christopher’s grasp, but he held strong, digging his fingers into Emory’s shoulder. “What—”
“I’ve also watched you glare daggers at every alpha who approached you, and you practically bowled over two omegas as you walked to the drinks table.”
Emory jerked his head around and saw that there were, in fact, several omegas milling about, casting them slightly confused looks.
“I didn’t even see them. I can apologize right now if–”
“Em, you’re not hearing me,” Christopher said through gritted teeth.
“You’ve had an erection, you’re growling at alphas, it’s like other omegas don’t even exist to you, and I can practically smell the pheromones rolling off you.
I know your time of year isn’t for another few months, but I think you might be—”
“In rut,” Emory gasped.
His knees tried to give out, so he leaned the bulk of his weight into Christopher’s side. Christopher must have been anticipating this, or maybe that Emory would run, because he was able to maintain his solid grip around his shoulder with no more than a quick shuffle step.
“Yes, I suspect so. I’m not sure if it started when you saw Cameron two days ago or—”
“Cameron,” Emory groaned, and his lion gave a plaintive howl.
“I know, buddy, I know. I already called him, and he’s on his way to your apartment. We need to get you there now,” Christopher said, adjusting his grip on Emory’s shoulder so he could begin steering him to the door.
“I don’t know why this is happening,” Emory said. He felt like he was wading through mud. Meanwhile, his lion began running in circles. “I always take suppressants the month before, and I’m fine. I was going to do that this time too because we…we haven’t even… Oh, gods.”
“I know you and Cameron haven’t been intimate before, but he wouldn’t and doesn’t want you to suffer through rut alone. He’s on his way to–”
“No,” Emory said, digging his heels in and stopping the progress they had been making towards the exit. “No, no, no, it can’t be like this. I haven’t been off suppressants for ruts since I was a teen, and even then, it was…it was a lot, Chris. Lions are very aggressive, violent animals.”
“You would never hurt Cameron. Even during your rut. It’s almost impossible for an alpha to hurt their fated mate during rut or heat. You know that.”
Yes, Emory had heard from a young age that fate wouldn’t pair him with someone who couldn’t withstand his ruts.
In fact, his mom had once implied that omegas who were fated mates with alpha lions enjoyed their alpha’s ruts.
Emory had threatened to wash his ears out with bleach if she said any more on the matter, so she’d dropped it, but his father had winked at him, and that had been just as bad.
He hadn’t even talked to Cameron about ruts yet. Not all shifters went through ruts. He was pretty sure from his limited knowledge of octopuses that they definitely didn’t. He thought that, in the wild, omega octopuses actually ate the alphas after they mated.
Emory’s lion gave a concerned mewl, much closer to that of a house cat than of a lion. Yeah, Emory was right there with his beast. This was an absolutely terrible, horrible idea.
He came to his senses when Christopher shoved him into his waiting town car. Emory tried to climb out, but Christopher let out an angry otter growl and shoved him farther into the car, then got in beside him.
“Chris, no, you need to go back in—we need to go back in. This is absurd. There’s no way I’m going into rut, and there’s doubly no way I’m going home to see Cameron if I somehow am. I’ll go to mother’s mansion to–”
“Do you have any supplies there?” Christopher asked as the town car pulled away from the curb and, at Christopher’s direction, began to speed through the city streets.
No, of course Emory didn’t have any rutting supplies at his mother’s house.
He barely had any in his apartment. The suppressants he’d been taking since his teens made it so his rut only consisted of a few really horny days, during which he’d run through his bookmarked collection of porn and rub his dick raw with every Fleshlight and vibrator he owned–which was only two or three, and then he’d be done and wouldn't touch his dick for a couple of weeks.
This felt different, though. Now that he knew what was happening, he could feel it. His balls ached, and his abs were clenching and unclenching, pulling at his aching lower back. His teeth and fingers were also aching, yearning to shift and claw and bite into something. Into someone.
Like his poor, unsuspecting Cameron.
“Chris, you have to call Cameron back and—ngh!” he grunted, as his body seized.
Christopher threw his arm out across Emory’s chest, pressing him back into the car seat, so he didn’t try to throw himself from the moving vehicle to go find his mate.
Run from his mate?
Mate his mate?
Breed his mate.
“No!” Emory shouted, trying to stop his racing thoughts as he desperately clawed at Christopher’s arm.
“Em, we’re almost home. I’m going to get you in the elevator, and you can get yourself settled, maybe take the edge off, and Cameron will be there soon.”
“No, no, he can’t… I can’t… Chris, please,” Emory begged even as his hips began to grind up into the air.
He would be ashamed except that their drivers operated with the utmost discretion, and Christopher had definitely seen him in worse positions before.
Not much worse, but that time he’d gotten food poisoning in the airport still took first prize.
He’d thrown up on all fours for twenty minutes straight while actively trying to pay for the flights of everyone who had the misfortune of passing by him.