Zeke's Reluctant Omega Read online

“One might argue I’ve protected you. With the resources of DI at his disposal, Velan could have delayed a criminal proceeding for months, and a civil one indefinitely. You need housing and funds now.”

  Marcel realized one universal truth at that moment. “You did it because you want to have sex with me.”

  “While that may be true, it’s not the main reason.”

  Glad that Mr. Lowry didn’t try to deny what was right there in both their faces, Marcel tugged his hand from the alpha’s grasp. He needed to get his dog under control. “What is the main reason?”

  Mr. Lowry stood, and Marcel felt the loss as a resounding ache. The larger man paced to the window and pushed aside the thick curtain. Rays of late afternoon sunlight lit shafts of dust in the room.

  Marcel let his gaze outline the way the larger shifter’s sexy legs led to a delightfully rounded ass, though most of that was a guess because Mr. Lowry still wore his suit jacket. “Mr. Lowry?”

  “Zeke.” He said his name like an order, and Marcel wondered whether he should follow the directive.

  On one hand, it implied a level of familiarity that wasn’t true. On the other hand, it could lead to the kind of friendship that included acting on their baser desires. He was against starting something physical with this alpha because it would interfere with his plans to be a star on the stage.

  Mr. Lowry dropped the curtain and turned back to face Marcel. “Marcel, say my name.”

  Making a choice that caused his heart to stutter erratically, Marcel said, “Mr. Lowry.”

  His face darkened. Ruddy with contained fury, he clenched his fists. “Omega, I have limits, and you are fast approaching them.”

  Marcel wasn’t from a submissive line of omegas. “Well, your inability to answer simple questions is kind of pissing me off as well, so why don’t you leave now?”

  The glower should have struck fear into Marcel’s heart, but it only made him bolder and more reckless. He arched a single brow, daring Mr. Lowry to press the point. When the alpha’s gaze slid away, Marcel celebrated internally with an imagined victory dance.

  When his gaze once again focused on Marcel, he made it clear Marcel was mistaken. Mr. Lowry was allowing him room to not lose face, but he wasn’t ceding the point. “We will resume this discussion when your injuries have had a chance to mend. I’ll see that your arm is set now.”

  Marcel was amazed at how quickly Mr. Lowry got things done. People scurried to do his bidding, though they seemed more respectful than afraid. Within fifteen minutes, a specialist was in his room, pointing out things on an x-ray.

  “It’s a hairline fracture, so you won’t need surgery to set it.” The middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a white lab coat unwrapped the bandage on his arm. “We’ll need to wait for the swelling to go down a bit more. I’m going to keep you on the anti-inflammatory, and I’ll check back in the morning. Do you have any questions?”

  “Will this limit my movement or how much I can lift? I’m a dancer, and I do gymnastics in a lot of my routines. Sometimes I lift people.” Unless a woman was involved, Marcel was usually the one lifted, as he was a bit on the petite side.

  “You should be back to your regular activities in about twelve or sixteen weeks. It’s a fracture, so you won’t have to worry about it limiting your activity once it’s healed.” He gestured to Marcel’s ankle. “That’s going to take longer to heal and come back than your arm will. Once it’s better, you’ll need to see a sports medicine specialist. I have a colleague who deals mostly with dancers and gymnasts. I’ll write a referral.”

  When the doctor left, Mr. Lowry came back into his room. “What did Dr. Minetta say?”

  Ah, that was the specialist’s name. Marcel grinned. “Don’t you know?”

  “No.” Mr. Lowry scowled. “HIPPA laws won’t let your doctor tell me anything without your permission.”

  “But you’re paying the bills.” Marcel enjoyed having the upper hand for now, so he withheld the information.

  Mr. Lowry’s expression didn’t soften. “Itemized bills will go through DI’s lawyers for vetting, but they’re still confidential.”

  “Oh.” A wave of exhaustion swept over Marcel, and he relented. “He wants to wait another day for the swelling to go down before he puts a cast on it. He said my ankle is going to need physical therapy to get it back into shape for dancing.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Mr. Lowry answered it. “Amar, thanks for bringing this. I’ll just be a moment.” He reached to where Marcel couldn’t see, and when his arm came back, he was holding Marcel’s backpack. “Where do you want this?”

  Marcel held out his good hand. The moment Mr. Lowry set it down next to him, he checked the contents. Someone had gone through it because nothing was how he’d packed it. Nevertheless, he identified his clothes, ID, cell phone, and money. His cell had a million messages. Finding everything there, he closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you for this.”

  Without asking, Mr. Lowry took Marcel’s cell phone and tapped at the screen. “I’m adding my number to your contacts list. Call if you need anything.” And then he was gone.

  Marcel felt the emptiness immediately. In a short time, he’d become used to the alpha’s presence, and he liked the big man’s attention. He looked at the new contact to find that Mr. Lowry had programmed his name in as simply Zeke—no last name. It was a pointed message that made Marcel kind of excited to see how far he could push the handsome alpha before he lost his temper.

  Closing his eyes, he pushed away the intense attraction he felt for the supposed dragon shifter, and he called his fathers. He took pride in the fact he wasn’t going to need them to come rescue him from his mistakes. Yes, he was bound to lose his position in Dance of the Dragons, but due to the deal he’d struck, now he had time to heal and to try again. All was not lost.

  And yet, he still felt the bitterness and resentfulness that came with losing out on his initial chance to perform on stage.

  Zeke

  EXITING THE ROOM, ZEKE found Amar leaning against the wall across the hall, his attention on his phone.

  “Sexting the mister?”

  Amar glanced up. “Huh? No, Edgar sent a video of the triplets hugging each other. It’s damn cute, but it looks more like wrestling.”

  Zeke held out his hand. “Aww. Can I see?”

  Though he handed over his phone, Amar eyed Zeke curiously. “You’re not really someone who is amused by the antics of children.

  Until today, the offspring of his friends had been creatures he was sworn to protect. Now he felt more of a connection, and while he silently fawned over the adorable one-year-olds engaged in hugs that knocked down their sibling, outwardly he gave Amar back his phone. “You were right.”

  It wasn’t until they were alone in the car that Amar brought it up again. “Zeke, are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah.” He chose to deflect. “I wish I knew what went on from Velan’s perspective. He’s not the kind of person who steals things or attacks smaller shifters.”

  Amar perked up. “He’s a shifter?”

  “Yes.”

  “A dog shifter?”

  “A poodle.”

  A slow grin spread across Amar’s face. “Your dragon purred, didn’t it?”

  “It did,” Zeke begrudgingly admitted. “But I still negotiated the settlement down to the bare minimum. He could have asked for a lot more. I was authorized to go as high as two million. All told, we’re in this for less than a fifty thousand.”

  “As the person in charge of the finances, I thank you. If Zane hadn’t fucked up, we wouldn’t have spent anything.” Amar drummed his fingers on his thigh. “But then you wouldn’t have met your omega. Is he a regular-sized poodle or one of those toy-sized breeds?”

  Not having seen Marcel shift, Zeke wasn’t sure. He’d always fancied himself the kind of tough guy with a large breed dog, but it turned out not to matter what Marcel shifted into. He’d take him no matter what. “I don’t know much about him. He�
�s a dancer at the Verdance Theater, and he won’t call me by my first name.”

  “Hmmm.” Amar tapped his fingers a few more times. “Maybe he sees you as the enemy.”

  “The enemy? I tried to be upfront with him.”

  “You offered him money not to press charges against a man who attacked him, and then you told him he was destined to be your omega?” Somehow, Amar managed to deliver that question without an ironic edge to his tone.

  “I didn’t tell him much of anything.” Zeke wiped his hand across his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I’m not used to having to try. Men usually throw themselves at my feet. Marcel is unimpressed.”

  “You should ask Edgar,” Amar said. “He’s great at relationships. He helped Koren get things started with Chay.”

  Zeke didn’t want to travel the route of gossip and advice. He wanted Marcel on his terms. “I have a few missiles in my arsenal yet.”

  “Suit yourself.” A soft chuckle issued from Amar. “Just be warned that it’s not going to stop Edgar from offering advice, and he’s going to want to hear every last detail.”

  Rather than inform his friend that his omega was destined for disappointment, Zeke grunted. He dropped Amar at the door to his building. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  His next order of business was to visit Zane Velan, who was staying in a suite DI kept at a local hotel. Zeke rode the elevator to the ninth floor and knocked on the door.

  It opened to reveal the top-level lawyer who worked for the High Council. Young and handsome, Zane was around a century old. His swarthy skin glowed with yellowish undertones. The sharp cheekbones and dark hair emphasized the light in his dark brown eyes. Though he was devastatingly handsome, Zane Velan had earned his spot and his reputation through intelligence, savvy decision-making, and grit. He flashed a brief smile. “I was hoping to surprise you.”

  The admission caught Zeke by surprise. He laughed. “Mission accomplished. I did not expect my day to unfold as it has.”

  Finding one’s mate when omegas were scarce was always unexpected, and finding that one’s mate wasn’t eager or amenable was even more shocking. Instinct typically trumped everything else for a shifter.

  Zane stepped back and spread his hand. “Come in. Have you had dinner yet? I was about to order room service.”

  Zeke had not eaten. “How about I treat you to a meal at my favorite steakhouse? You can tell me why you stole some random guy’s backpack, and I can thank you for helping me find my omega.”

  In the midst of putting on his shoes, Zane stopped and looked up, both brows arching high. “The guy I inadvertently almost killed is your omega?”

  “It seems so.”

  Zane finished his task and grabbed his jacket. “Amaricio said the young man will make a full recovery.”

  “He should. DI will pay for his care and physical therapy. He’s a dancer, so he’ll need a specialist for his ankle injury.” Zeke motioned for Zane to enter the elevator first. “I’m interested in hearing the story from your perspective.”

  Zane waited until they were seated in the restaurant to tell his story. “I came here to spy on Tito Kaysar. The High Council wishes for a follow-up report. He keeps telling the High Council that the research process will take years, and the Council wants to be sure they are hearing the truth.”

  “They are,” Zeke admitted. “Kaysar handed the project to Koren Tafari, who is not a geneticist, but he possesses our best scientific mind. Koren is working diligently, but he also must learn a new field of study. I’d estimate that it’s going to take decades before we know anything definitively.”

  Sipping his wine, Zane processed what he’d just learned. “I figured as much.” He sighed. “The High Council was hoping for a rapid timeline. It seems Mr. Granger and Mr. Tafari are not the only members of the Sharp-Winged Tribe to mate with canine shifters. It is also happening in Montevideo. It would be different if the omegas were from a variety of species, perhaps tigers or gargoyles, who are our closest-living relatives, but they are mostly canines. I’ve heard of a few felines and equines, but it’s mostly dog shifters. It is imperative we understand the reasoning behind it and the effect it will have on dragonkind.”

  Zeke didn’t worry about being overheard. In general, anyone who overheard assumed they were engaging in live-action role play. He’d been approached many times by strangers who’d invited him to take part in their games.

  Now that he knew the reason behind Zane’s visit, Zeke relaxed. “I’ll set up a meeting between you and Koren tomorrow. He can catch you up on his progress. Now I’d like to hear about how you came to be in possession of a backpack that wasn’t yours.”

  A tight smile twisted the corners of Zane’s mouth. “It is mine.”

  Scenarios played out in Zeke’s mind, but he didn’t rush to choose one. “Explain.”

  “I sat down on the bench next to a man who had nodded off while still sitting up. I set my backpack and briefcase between us, and I called my boss to let him know I had landed. We chatted for about fifteen minutes, and then I picked up my briefcase and backpack—I didn’t bring a suitcase—and I set off toward the Draco International building. The next thing I know, this vicious little man is on my back, screaming that I’d stolen his backpack. I fought back. Any injuries he sustained were the result of me defending myself. DI should not pay out a settlement because we are not liable.”

  Their steak-and-lobster dinners came, and both men dug into the delicious carnivorous feast.

  “DI settled to avoid further litigation.” Zeke informed Zane of his role. “It’s less expensive and cleaner this way.”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” Zane insisted. “And the police still have the evidence. They have my briefcase and my backpack.”

  “They have neither,” Zeke informed his dining companion. “The backpack in evidence belonged to Mr. Yardan. It has been returned to him already. DI’s lawyers have your briefcase. They were probably intending to return it to you tomorrow, but I’ll have them drop it at the hotel tonight.” As he talked, he tapped out a text to put the plan in motion. By the time they returned from dinner, Zane’s briefcase should be waiting for them.

  Gazing across in disbelief, Zane froze. “That was my backpack, Zeke.”

  Having seen the contents, Zeke did not back down. “Not unless you were carrying around a dancer’s leotard, Mr. Yardan’s ID, and pictures of his family.”

  “That’s not possible.” Zane’s gaze unfocused as he thought. “I set it down, took my cell phone from the pocket.” His hands moved as he mimed the movements. “Talked to Eduardo.” He mumbled a few more things, but Zeke didn’t catch them.

  “Perhaps yours was stolen when you weren’t looking?”

  “Maybe.” Wrinkles of confusion lined the space between the dark slashes of Zane’s eyebrows. “There were many people around. I don’t suppose the park is on some kind of city surveillance?”

  It was. Zeke nodded. “I’ll investigate. In the meantime, you’re going to need toiletries and a change of clothes.”

  “The hotel has supplied most of what I need, though I wouldn’t mind stopping at a men’s store for a couple shirts.”

  By the time Zeke had a free moment to return to the hospital, visiting hours were over.

  Disappointed, Zeke found a secluded spot to shift into dragon form. His black scales blended into the inky darkness. The light of the full moon reflected from his long body and wings, but to the casual observer, he would look like a dark cloud against the dark sky.

  Taking a risk, he glided low, past Marcel’s fourth-floor window. But the curtains were drawn and no light peeked out from the edges, meaning his intended omega was likely asleep for the night.

  If he was going to heal, he needed his rest.

  Zeke returned to where he’d stowed his clothes. They were exactly as he’d left them. Shifters all over the city were in the habit of stashing their clothes when they shifted. To his knowledge, none were ever stolen. Crime in Ver
dance was virtually non-existent. The fact that Zane’s backpack had disappeared was a troubling new development.

  Returning to the park, Zeke spent the next hour searching high and low for the missing backpack. He found nothing.

  Settling on the edge of the large round fountain the served as a centerpiece of the park, he considered the contacts list on his cell. Marcel had neither called nor texted. He tried not to let disappointment weigh him down as he considered whether he could ask Chay for help. Koren’s omega, Chayton Sadler V, was a Labrador shifter, and Labs were known for their nose, among other things.

  He called Koren first. “Hey, do you mind if I borrow Chay for an hour or so? I need him to track something for me.”

  “What kind of danger is involved?”

  “None. I’m looking for Zane’s missing backpack.” Dragons were fighters, and they had great eyesight, but tracking a cold scent was beyond Zeke’s purview.

  “Let me ask him.” Koren muted the phone. When sound returned, he said, “Are you going to come by and get him, or did you want him to meet you somewhere?”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  The drive didn’t take long. Koren and Chay lived in a posh building not far from the park. When Zeke arrived, Chay was waiting on the sidewalk. He hopped into Zeke’s car as soon as it came to a stop.

  “I would have come up,” Zeke said.

  “I needed to get out of there.” Chay chuckled. “It’s nice to be off baby duty for a while. My parents are coming out next week, and I’m hoping Koren and I can take off for some alone time together.”

  Zeke did not offer to babysit. Those skills weren’t in his wheelhouse. “Glad I could help. What do you need from me to help you track? We can swing by Zane’s hotel room and grab anything you need.”

  “If he’ll let me sniff him, that’s all I need.” Chay leaned across the console and sniffed Zeke’s shoulder and neck. “You smell like love. Who’s the lucky guy?”

  Not fooled by the observation, Zeke snorted. “You cannot discern something like that from smell. You talked to Amar.”

  “Edgar.” Chay’s grin grew. “Everybody knows. We’re all waiting to meet your mystery man.”