Page 16 of Broken Bonds

Hopeful

The rain eventually peters out, leaving a steamy afternoon that makes it feel like everything is sticking to me and that sweat can’t evaporate. I work my way around the front of the store, sweeping, dusting, fronting and facing merchandise, tidying displays.

Far from the worst task I’ve ever performed. I feel Davis’ gaze follow me around the store as he perches on a stool behind the counter and works on a computer.

It feels…oddly creepy and exciting at the same time to think I’m reading hunger in his gaze.

Not the food kind, either.

I’m not a virgin, topping or bottoming, but bottoming is my preference.

I wonder what it’d feel like to lean against the counter while he…

I tighten my grip around the broom handle and turn to face the front of the store, certain my face must be flaming red.

Reaching down, I adjust myself again.

See, this is one of the reasons I wormed my way out of as many family runs as possible, especially if we were running with other packmates.

Because I didn’t want to pop wood in front of anyone, especially a guy, and have my family notice it or, worse, in front of a woman because there was a guy I liked nearby and my Dad thought I was interested in her and he might try to make a match.

Add in the problem about mating heats.

Never been in one—thankfully—and would rather not, if possible.

Not without a mate of my own. Or, at the very least, without a lockable door between me and the rest of the world.

Yeah, amongst canines, omegas have mating heats, males and females. I don’t know what triggers it. It’s not a subject my regular high school covered in health class.

If you think I’d ask my dad about it, then were you honestly paying attention earlier?

I’ve never had anyone to discuss omega males and heats with. Among my pack it’s taboo to discuss—again, please reference my earlier discussion of Dad’s homophobia—and I don’t know what’s myth and what’s real.

What I’ve heard is for an omega male to get pregnant, he has to be in heat. Like, the metaphorical planets have aligned and everything’s perfect, add an Alpha mate of similar species, and bada-bing, badda-boom, maybe you’ll get a baby.

I mean, among canines. Not sure how it works with other species, and Dad forbade intermingling.

Unless they were rich as hell, or well-connected. Then it was totes okay, obviously.

But only as friends. Or business associates.

Not as mates. Never as mates.

Not even as friends with bennies.

Six o’clock rolls around and I help Davis with closing chores. He hands me two twenties, and when I try to protest he folds my fingers around them.

“You did good. I can afford it. Just pay it forward if you ever get a chance.”

“Thanks.” I grab my stuff and my bike, load it into his pick-up truck, and wait for him to lock up and set the alarm.

When he joins me, he starts the engine but we sit there for a moment while he’s obviously thinking.

Finally, he says, “We’ll grab food real fast. Then we need to meet with someone.” He looks at me. “For that part, I need to hold all your devices that can record. You will get them back,” he quickly adds. “Also, you’ll have to wear a blindfold for that drive. It’s short, only twenty minutes.”

“We won’t draw attention?”

He snorts. “Not around here, no. But it’s a safety issue. You’ll talk to someone, decide if you want to hang around or not. If so, I’ll take you where you need to go. If not, I’ll blindfold you again, get you out of there, and then we’ll take a drive over to the coast so you can part ways with me and maybe find a job on a shrimp boat or something. And get your devices back.”