Chapter 10
Chase
Chase nursed his flat beer and tried not to stare at one of his roommates making out heavily with a beta girl who’d introduced herself approximately thirty seconds ago. Chase wasn’t a natural voyeur, but also they were, like, right in front of his face.
“Do you think Spence has adapted to need less oxygen than the average human?” Noah asked next to him.
Chase shrugged. “That would be pretty quick work, evolutionarily speaking.”
“True.” Noah shook his empty bottle. “I’m going to get another drink. Want one?”
“I’m good.”
Chase didn’t even want the drink he had. He’d poured it over an hour ago—his first drink of the night—and he was barely halfway through it. As a beta, he wasn’t particularly pheromone-sensitive, but for some reason all the mixed scents in the heavily populated house were making his stomach roil.
It was shitty of him to mope about it though. He was the one who’d dragged his friends out to this party.
Well, he’d dragged Noah. Spencer had been all for it, thrilled that the three of them were finally free on the same Friday night.
They were at a house party one of Chase’s old teammates was throwing. Chase had always liked the guy’s parties; they were a good time without going over the top. But it was also Friday night, and Chase had become accustomed to … certain things on his Friday nights.
Basically, he and Burke had fallen into a routine the past month or so. Friday evenings, Burke would text him. Chase would show up. Burke would make him see God. Chase would stay the night. Burke would cook Chase breakfast. Chase would leave, stomach full and body well used.
They kept it to one night a week, and for some reason it was always Friday night, and that had been working fine. Chase only thought about the alpha professor 90 percent of the time otherwise, but he’d been making do with fantasies and anticipation.
Until today, when Burke had texted Chase, not I’m waiting, but I’m unavailable this evening. You owe me double orgasms, sweet boy. I’ll wring them out of you one way or another.
And yeah, the last part of the text had made Chase’s belly swoop and his dick fill, but still, what the fuck?
It was Burke’s damn fault Chase had developed a Pavlovian response to Fridays, anyway.
As soon as Chase woke up Friday mornings, his skin was hot and sensitive, and he only ever barely made it through classes without drifting off into horrifically explicit daydreams that had him fighting erections in public.
And now tonight he was all worked up with nowhere to put it. And Spence was being Spence, and Noah was clearly missing his own omega professor, and everything was just … not ideal.
“What did Mr. Whiskers ever do to you?”
Chase pulled himself out of his sulky thoughts to find the host of the party—Carter Bishop—standing beside him, red plastic cup in hand.
“What?” Chase asked.
Carter gestured to a small white porcelain cat on a floating shelf that Chase had apparently been directing his gaze toward.
“Mr. Whiskers. You’re glaring at him pretty intently.
” He sipped his drink thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you look angry before, so he must have done something bad. ”
Chase cocked his head, studying the little feline. It was beyond out of place in what was essentially a frat house. “Maybe I was just shocked by the big, bad lacrosse captain having a secret porcelain kitty-cat fetish.”
“Former captain,” Carter corrected mildly. “And I have layers.”
Chase huffed a laugh. He liked Carter. He always had.
The alpha had been a good captain until he’d been taken out by an ACL tear shortly before Chase had quit the team.
Carter hadn’t seemed as angry about his fate as he could have been, but maybe that was because his athletic scholarship had been protected against injuries.
“I was never going to play professionally,” he’d told Chase once with a shrug, his postsurgery knee thick with bandages. “And classes will be easier now that my schedule’s open.”
So yeah, Chase liked him. Everyone liked him though.
Carter was a classic all-American alpha catch, with thick brown hair and sharp blue eyes and an honest-to-God dimple on his chin.
He was friendly to everyone without being a pushover, and he was generous with his time and money.
He didn’t have to be captain of the team to have social clout.
Which meant any moment …
And sure enough, a gaggle of omega sorority sisters suddenly materialized in front of them, giggling to each other as one of them asked Carter if he’d mix them up some drinks.
Chase flipped his cap back to the front and gave Carter a nudge. “Good party, man. Catch you later.”
He sidestepped Spencer sucking face and slipped out the front door. The night was comfortably cool, and Chase let out a relieved breath, making his way to the side of the house and taking a seat on the dry grass. He set his half-full beer on the ground.
Why had he come here, anyway? He should have asked the guys to stay in tonight, maybe have a movie night and order pizza. That probably would have been more his speed with the mood he was in.
Except it would have been just the same, wouldn’t it? Because that still wouldn’t have been right. It wouldn’t have been the Friday night Chase had become accustomed to. He wouldn’t have been fucked or held or told he was good and perfect and beautiful.
Jesus.
Chase pulled out his phone, but there was nothing. Of course there wasn’t. Burke had already backed out—he had no other reason to text. Chase frowned down at the blank screen.
But what gave Burke the right, anyway? Shouldn’t he have given Chase a little more notice?
More explanation? Chase had—he had needs.
And if Burke was going to bail on him, who was to say Chase wasn’t going to try to get those needs met elsewhere?
This whole situation was a … mutual compulsive attraction thing, not a dating thing.
Chase didn’t owe Burke anything. He could go back to the party now and try to find someone else to scratch this incessant itch.
Except it wouldn’t be what he’d come to expect, if Chase found it elsewhere. Not the sex and not the moments after. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone but Burke.
Unless it was Burke who was getting his needs met elsewhere.
A wave of nausea hit Chase out of nowhere. Burke wouldn’t do that to him, though … right? He’d said they’d be exclusive until this thing ran its course.
Was tonight Burke’s way of saying this thing had run its course? Maybe he’d gone to the club he used to go to, no longer satisfied with Chase’s performance or something.
Maybe he was fucking some obedient omega right now, as Chase wallowed by himself in the grass, none the wiser.
Chase jumped up, only half aware of kicking his beer onto the grass. Before he knew it, he’d dug his car keys out of his pocket and was heading down the street to where he’d parked.
There was one sure way to find out if Burke was home or not.
Burke took longer to answer the door than Chase was used to. Which made sense, since Chase had been explicitly told that Burke was unavailable tonight, and thus was not expected to be here.
Chase frowned at the thick wooden door in front of him.
Oh fuck. What was he even doing here? Why had he come? What the fuck was he hoping to accomplish?
He turned to leave just as the door opened. And there was Burke, his dark brow creased in concern. “Chase? Is everything all right?”
Chase froze in place for a moment, then pivoted back to face the door fully.
Burke looked good. Really good. He was dressed casually but still nicely, somewhere between his teaching clothes and those sweats that made Chase go a little feral.
His dark hair was falling in front of his face, and his pheromones were mellow in a way they rarely were when Chase first arrived at the door.
When Chase said nothing, Burke’s frown deepened, although he seemed more confused than angry. “I told you I was busy tonight, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
Classical music drifted out of the open door, as did the distinct smells of a home-cooked meal. Chase glared over Burke’s shoulder into the house. What exactly was going on in there?
Burke sighed and looked out past Chase to the street, then gestured inside. “Come in, then.”
Chase stepped inside the house and then immediately wished he hadn’t. There were two wine glasses on the living room coffee table, both of them half full. And with the music and the food—
Chase whirled on Burke. “Is this a date?”
Just then a man somewhere around Burke’s age walked in from the direction of the dining room.
He was handsome and blond and dressed in a suit, and he was followed by an equally attractive bearded guy holding a beer.
Chase was pretty sure they were both alphas, but it was hard to tell with Burke’s heavy pheromones already saturating the house.
“Is this a date, Killian?” the blond guy asked, pressing a hand to his chest in faux shock. “You rascal, you should have told us! I would have worn a sluttier shirt.”
Burke pinched the bridge of his nose. “As I said, I’m occupied tonight. Chase, this is Devon and Prince.” He pointed to the blond and the bearded guy respectively. “Please ignore anything and everything they might say.”
The bearded guy—Prince—now had a massive grin on his face. “Holy shit, it’s the fuck-up-your life someone, isn’t it?”
Burke cleared his throat, sliding an unreadable look Chase’s way. “As I said, ignore everything.”
Oh fuck. Chase had definitely fucked up, hadn’t he? He’d just barged in on some sort of middle-aged boys’ night. “Burke, I—”
“You call him Burke?” Devon asked with clear delight, a Cheshire grin on his face.
“You call me Burke?” Burke echoed.
Chase supposed he’d never said it out loud in Burke’s presence. It was always “Alpha” or “sir” when they were together. He shrugged. “I guess I do, in my head.” He was beyond flustered now, and it made his voice uncharacteristically sharp as he added, “It’s your name, isn’t it?”
Burke gave Chase another look, this one very, very clear.
“Sir,” Chase added immediately.
“Oh my god,” Devon groaned, snatching up one of the half-empty wineglasses. “I wish I had a camera.”
“You have your phone,” Prince suggested.
“But what if Killian decides to break it over my head? I can see the smoke pouring out of his ears as we speak.” Devon wagged a finger at Burke.
“So this is why you wanted to move dinner to Saturday.” He stepped to Chase, his hand held out.
“Devon Carmichael, longtime friend of your Burke here. Absolutely delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Chase shook the man’s hand. “Chase Adler. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Oh.” Devon glanced to Burke with a sly smile. “I get it now.”
“You didn’t get it from the face alone?” Prince asked, giving Chase a not-very-subtle wink when Chase looked his way.
Burke treated his friends to a truly terrifying glower and then pulled Chase to the side. He placed his hands on Chase’s shoulders, rubbing them up and down his upper arms briskly as he looked him over. “You’re really all right?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry. I’m—I should get going, huh?”
There was a long silence as Burke studied him. “No,” Burke eventually said, shaking his head slowly. “You’ll stay. But you’ll need to be punished, sweet boy. I set a boundary, and you ignored it.”
Chase hadn’t expected Burke to call him that—sweet boy—in front of other people. But Burke had, and very clearly. He hadn’t even lowered his voice when he did it. Chase shifted in place, not sure if he was pleased or embarrassed.
“Color?” Burke asked, his thumbs sweeping over Chase’s biceps.
”Green,” Chase answered instantly.
Burke’s pheromones sharpened, the leather growing richer, and a smile graced his lips, there and gone again. “Would you like to join us, or wait for your punishment in the bedroom?”
So matter of fact, even with his friends blatantly listening in. It made Chase hot and squirmy. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I’ll wait in the bedroom.”
“Do you need a book?”
Chase gave him a look. “I have a phone.”
Burke arched a dark brow. “Try it again without the sass. I’m not in the mood for brat taming.”
“I have my phone to keep me entertained, Alpha.”
“There’s my sweet boy. Go.”
Chase turned toward Burke’s bedroom, ducking his head to avoid the amused stares of Devon and Prince.
“Chase,” Burke called after him.
Chase turned. Burke’s gaze was hot enough to burn. “You can call me Killian, if you like. In your head, that is.”
Chase hurried down the hall. Once he was safely enclosed in Burke’s bedroom, he climbed onto the bed, fully clothed for now. He didn’t know how long Burke would be, and Chase didn’t fancy having either of Burke’s friends wander in and find him naked.
Chase took his phone out but didn’t unlock it just yet. He could hear the murmur of voices through the wall, as well as some light laughter. None of it sounded angry or mean-spirited.
Chase inhaled deeply. Leather and cherry. He was warm all over, and only part of it was embarrassment. Or arousal.
He’d fucked up tonight. He’d been unforgivably rude, barging in when Burke had told him he was busy.
And Burke—Killian, Chase corrected, trying to get used to the change—hadn’t sent him away.
He hadn’t threatened to deprive Chase of his company until he got his act together.
He wasn’t going to end things because Chase had gotten difficult.
He’d even offered to let Chase join him and his friends, for fuck’s sake.
Chase didn’t know what to do with that.
Growing up, the few—very few—times Chase had acted out, he’d only ever been ignored all the more, brushed off to be sequestered with the nanny for days on end.
He’d learned quickly that rebellion didn’t lead to anything good.
At least if he’d behaved, his parents had sometimes remembered to shoot him some sort of acknowledgment.
Chase had been taught that it was easier to go along with things, no matter how bad they felt, and live with the crumbs of affection that got him.
But Killian hadn’t ignored Chase tonight. Kind of the opposite, actually.
Because when the alpha came back to this bedroom, he was going to mete out the punishment he deemed necessary, and then he was going to probably—judging by the heat in his eyes just now—fuck Chase like there was no tomorrow.
And then he was going to hold him and sleep beside him and make him breakfast in the morning. All because …
Because why?
Because maybe Killian cared.
And maybe Chase cared too.