Masked Omega for Christmas

Chapter 1 Kingston

KINGSTON

Five years ago

“Did you finish your assignment, Kingston?”

“Just. Sent it minutes before the deadline.”

I nodded at my friend, Brad, who was sitting outside our favorite college bar. But I wasn’t interested in discussing coursework, and I strode inside, the smell of stale beer assaulting my nostrils.

But layered in the background was the hint of another scent, one that belonged to a bartender. He was why I chose this bar and not the one closest to my dorm room.

Merrick caught my eye from behind the counter and grinned. My bear told me to cool it and not embarrass myself when the guy wasn’t my mate.

You know nothing can come of this. Fate doesn’t make mistakes.

My beast was exasperated at my semester-long flirtation with Merrick and tossed up his hands at my efforts. Not literally ‘cause he was squashed inside me, but he tried.

“You’re here early tonight, King.”

No one in my life called me King. Not my family or friends and definitely not my professors, and if they had, I’d have cringed. But on Merrick’s lips… the word turned my insides to mush.

That's gross. Make sure none of it touches me.

“It’s been a long day.” That was true, but I could have just hit the sack if I was exhausted. The whole truth was that I wanted to see Merrick.

I slid onto my usual stool at the end of the bar, far enough from a rowdy group of students celebrating someone's birthday. “An accounting exam kicked my butt.”

“Poor you.” Merrick set a beer in front of me, and his fingers brushed over mine. I gripped the edge of the bar, trying to tamp down my excitement. “Should I add a shot to help you get over it?”

No. Just say no. My bear was ignoring Merrick’s intense gaze, but I was staring into those dark brown eyes that held something over me. Instead of telling Merrick I was a one-and-done tonight, I crumbled and agreed. I could get up early and study.

He poured whiskey into a shot glass and pushed it toward me, accompanying it with a grin. He moved down the bar to take someone else’s order, and I knocked back the shot, enjoying the burn in my throat.

I’d met Merrick at the beginning of the semester, and while I’d never been with him outside the bar, we’d chatted, especially on nights when business was slow.

It wasn’t chatting. Call it what it was.

Fine. Flirting. Over-the-top, outrageous, shameless flirting.

We’d spent four months teasing one another, which was wrong.

Not because I was mated or he was involved with someone, but because my family of bear shifters, for as long as our history had been recorded, had only mated with other bear shifters.

And the pairings weren’t mating for convenience. Nope, they were fated.

I couldn’t allow the flirting to develop into anything, not a friendship because I wanted more, not a casual intimate relationship, and definitely not anything serious. The end result would be me breaking Merrick’s heart and walking into the arms of the mate the universe had chosen for me.

I’d even begged the goddess, as an early birthday present, to make Merrick my mate. But his scent hadn’t changed. He was gorgeous and adorable but not my fated.

Coming to the bar regularly was torture, and I had to stop planting my butt on a stool and pretending I was just another guy unwinding after class.

Instead, I’d study his every move as he dealt with drunks and customers who couldn’t pay, while charming tips from undergrads after he gave them one of his dazzling smiles.

I hated those because I wanted all grins directed at me, along with lingering looks and casual touches. They were mine, and jealousy flared whenever he rewarded someone else.

The only solution was not to come here and let Merrick get on with his life. I was probably just a pleasant blip on his horizon, and when I disappeared, he’d spend a minute wondering where I’d gone, shrug, and serve someone else a drink.

But that promise vanished when Merrick returned and leaned on the bar in front of me. What was he doing? This wasn’t part of the plan.

You didn’t tell him the plan. My beast was so helpful.

“Something on your mind?” He dropped his voice lower so only I’d hear it over the noise. “Is that to do with your birthday coming up?”

Damn, he had a good memory. The big day was three days from now, not that I wanted to celebrate with Merrick on my mind. But it brought me closer to meeting my fated mate and saying goodbye to Merrick.

“Not really.”

He poured another shot of whiskey. “This is an early celebration.”

I downed the drink because it prevented me from answering him.

I should have paid and left, but I sat there, ogling his butt as he reached for a bottle of something.

But I ordered another beer on top of the two whiskey shots and then another.

He filled me in on the guy who’d asked him out, while spilling beer down his shirt, and I complained about my roommate and a professor who’d given me a B when I deserved an A.

It was the usual banter between friends, except friends didn’t look at one another the way we did, until he asked what was bugging me. My bear insisted I say that I had to go and wouldn’t be coming back, but I ignored him.

Instead of shrugging off his question with talk of a college class, the alcohol loosened my tongue. “What if you wanted something you couldn’t have?”

Merrick pressed his lips together, and our eyes locked. “I’d probably want it even more.”

No, that wasn’t the right answer. He should have said I had to walk away, damn it.

He nibbled his lower lip before replying with, “King, if you’re not interested, tell me now because I’ve been receiving these signals from you all semester. If I’ve been imagining your intentions, please tell me and I’ll back off.”

This was the moment I had to back away and tell him he’d made a mistake. It might sting, but it would protect him from the inevitable hurt.

“You're not imagining things.” What? No. Who said that?

My bear covered his ears, telling me I’d made a huge mistake.

“So what's stopping you?”

Ummm, everything and nothing. What else?

I’d break his heart, and he’d hate me, and I might screw him up forever more.

I should have just been honest with him.

It was common knowledge that shifters existed, and while most humans didn’t pay attention to our law or traditions, most understood the concept of fated mates.

“I’m a fool.”

Merrick grinned. “Lucky for you, I like fools.” And then he left to serve someone.

That was the worst possible response. He should have shrugged and said, “Good luck.”

I waited until the last customer left and he closed up. Neither of us said anything as we walked out, side by side. My dorm mate was on a field trip, so we wouldn’t be disturbed.

“This is probably a mistake,” I said as we walked up the stairs to my room.

“I hope not.”

What followed were soft kisses, grabby hands, clothes flung aside, and warm hands on bare skin. It was dangerous, and I didn’t care.

I outstretched my hand, expecting to find Merrick at my side, but the other side of the bed was empty, with rumpled sheets the only sign someone had slept there.

His clothes were gone except for a shirt I found tangled in the bedding.

How did he leave and not have his shirt?

I sniffed it, wishing it contained the scent of my mate.

Determined to see him before I headed to class, I stopped by the bar, which wasn’t open, but the manager came up behind me as I was peering in the window.

“If you’re looking for Merrick, he’s gone.” He huffed and unlocked the door. “Got a message early this morning, saying he’d quit because of a family emergency.”

“I have something of his.” I didn’t give a toss about the shirt, but he had something of mine: my heart.

“Can’t help you. He didn’t give me a forwarding address.”

I asked for Merrick’s phone number, but he said if the guy had wanted me to have it, he would have given it to me.

I stumbled away with the shirt clutched in my hands and tried to make sense of what had happened. The morning after we'd slept together, he'd quit his job and disappeared.

Because of me and what we'd done?

The next three days passed. I must have gone to class. Maybe I ate. My birthday arrived, and I did what I’d done every morning since he'd left. I sniffed his shirt.

What? No. It smelled different, better, more intoxicating if that were possible.

Mate. He’s our mate.

The goddess had answered me, and I’d lost him.