Page 3 of Where the Current Takes Him (Mermate #1)

Beau

T he hospital’s sterile entrance was a sight Beau knew all too well.

A stern-faced nurse glanced up at him from the bland, taupe reception counter. “Beaumont.”

“Arlene.”

“I hear we’re losing you to Miami.”

“I’ve heard the same thing.”

The older woman grimaced. “We’ve already sent a request to the Miami human clinic, hoping they’ll share the data they acquire from you. I assume you’ll consent?”

“Don’t have much choice, do I?”

Arlene grunted and jerked her head to the double doors beside her. “Come on.”

Beau followed her down the hallways, past exam rooms where other patients were probably receiving quality care—something unfamiliar to him.

To his relief, Arlene passed the steel, soundproof door of the stress test room, and led him into a standard blood draw station.

“Starting with the pleasantries today, I see,” Beau said lightly, sitting on the stool and resting his arm on the table.

“Just blood tests today. Your father gave us a rush order. Said you’re on the boat to Miami tonight.

” Arlene scowled at him, as if it was his fault.

“We’re testing your hormone and pheromone levels, then running a cancer screening.

Of course, we don’t know for sure how uterine cancer presents in a male Omega, so it’s a bit of a crap shoot. ”

“Very reassuring, thank you.”

Arlene’s response was to stick her needle into his arm.

Beau flinched. Though he’d been poked and prodded with needles his whole life, he’d never grown accustomed to it.

Once she filled three little tubes with his blood, Arlene moved behind him, taking a swab to the side of his neck. The pheromone gland vents were invisible to the naked eye, but Arlene memorized the location of his long ago.

“Done,” she announced, dropping the swab into a biohazard bag. “You’ll get a physical in Miami. We don’t have the proper equipment for a rectocervical exam.”

“Can’t wait.”

“And you’ll need to pick up your new prescription of suppressants on the way out.”

Beau blinked. “I still have three months’ worth—”

“New prescription,” she interrupted. “You’ll be gradually reducing your dose. We can’t have you quit cold turkey and nosedive into a full heat. It would be excruciating.”Arlene paused. “Would provide us with some valuable data, though.”

“Bye, Arlene.” Beau turned on his heel and made his way back down the hall, trying not to imagine a full heat, or what the Omega clinic looked like in Miami.

A hospital that wasn’t even built by humans, filled with medical equipment for a nearly unkillable alien species.

He shuddered, willing his mind to focus on absolutely anything else.

His driver was waiting out front.

“Ready to sign some paperwork?” the Mer asked. “Actually, a lot of paperwork?”

Beau heaved a sigh as he dropped into the seat. “Let’s get it over with.”

The driver hadn’t been lying. Beau lost feeling in his hand after the thirtieth signature, his eyes glazing over at the walls of legalese. He should probably read what he was signing, but it wasn’t as if he was able to reject any of the terms. Better not to know.

At the final form, however, he paused.

“Non-Disclosure Agreement,” he read aloud, glancing up at the clerk behind the desk.

“Yes.” She nodded. “An NDA is standard when humans request a transfer to the Paeil Islands, regardless of purpose. I encourage you to read it carefully. Each agreement is tailored to the recipient.”

Obediently, Beau lowered his eyes once again.

Beaumont Montgomery, henceforth known as “Omega,” shall hold and maintain all information regarding the Mer in strict confidence.

Omega shall carefully restrict access to information when in communication with any members of the human government, referring in part to Gainesville Chief of Interspecies Relations, Ashford Montgomery.

Beau’s eyes widened. He wasn’t allowed to talk to his father about the Mer?

His heart began to bounce against his ribs—some blend of fear and excitement.

On one hand, what were they planning to do with him that couldn’t be disclosed?

On the other, any excuse to avoid his father suited him just fine.

He stared down at the document for a few more moments before touching pen to paper, and signing his life away to the Mer.

∞∞∞

It wasn’t until Beau had an open suitcase in front of him that the whole thing really hit him. This might be his last time seeing this bedroom. For all he knew, he’d never set foot in this house again.

Packing his clothes was the easy part—leave whatever his father had purchased and take anything made of linen.

The rest of his belongings were a different matter. The opposite half of the room was completely overtaken by a home bar. Fine spirits, smoking chips, top-tier bartending equipment, and every shape of glass imaginable.

There was no way he could pack it all.

Beau let out a slow exhale through his nose. Maybe the most important ones. Maybe the rest could be replaced in Miami, or…

Am I even allowed to drink on the Mermades? Can the Mer drink?

He was quick to shake that thought off. Surely if they wanted to keep him prisoner, they would at least give him things to keep him entertained. From what he’d heard, Alphas were hot-tempered and prone to irritation. His new handler surely wouldn’t want to listen to him complain all day.

After an agonizing twenty minutes, Beau had selected his gold-plated cocktail shaker, a small box of aromatic wood chips, and a little crystal bottle of vintage, pre-ban absinthe.

He assumed the usual alcohol would be available on the island, but the 1910 absinthe was both irreplaceable and representative of his least responsible financial decision.

As he zipped his suitcase shut, Beau tried not to think about the Alpha who’d bought him.

It didn’t really matter whether he was handsome and funny, or hideous and grumpy.

A jailer was a jailer. Though there was a tiny spark of hope, deep within his chest, that maybe his new life would somehow be better than this one.

“Beaumont.” His father’s voice clattered down the corridor. “Your car has arrived. Get down here.”

The sound of his suitcase zipping shut sounded more like the lock of a cell. Out of habit, Beau checked the full length mirror to the left of his door.

He’d actually styled his sandy brown hair. The overlong mop on the top of his head was brushed and tamed, while the sides were neatly trimmed. His wide, brown eyes were framed with a sweep of light lashes, and he knew his father would be pissed at the sight of cherry-tinted chapstick on his lips.

The Omega pheromones were good for a few things, though the heat suppressant medication was annoying.

For one, his pointed chin and sharp jaw retained their youthful shape and total lack of facial hair.

His skin was always smooth and clear, even if he washed it with the pomegranate hand soap in his bathroom.

Beau also appreciated the slim, lanky build his engineered Omega genes created. He was tall by human standards, but would be miniscule the moment he set foot on Mermade Miami. The perfect hint of collarbone was visible under the cream v-neck he’d donned in lieu of the dad-on-vacation button down.

He’d even elected to swap his pink chino shorts for an identical pair in a deep shade of teal. If he was going to cross the newly-risen Florida Sea, he might as well match the vibes.

No doubt his father would still hate it.

The thought made him smile.