Page 18 of Labor of Love

“Oh.” Emre wanted to ask if he had a boyfriend or girlfriend, but maybe he’d already asked too many questions. “Sorry.”

“Will your alpha be mad that you asked someone else for food?” Hot Neighbor glanced at Emre’s belly.

“I don’t have anyone,” Emre blurted. Then cringed. “I-I mean, I have a baby. And a cart.”

The man’s gaze sharpened. He’d taken a step back, but now he leaned closer, looking as though he was holding himself back from Emre. “If you ever need anything else... You can come over and ask. I’ll help.”

Emre couldn’t believe his good luck. He took a reluctant step away, discreetly sniffing at Hot Neighbor again. “Okay.”

“Wait.”

Emre paused, his foot frozen halfway off the floor.

“What’s your name?” Hot Neighbor asked, his expression intense.

“Emre.”

“Emre.” His name shouldn’t sound so good, rolling off a stranger’s tongue. New Neighbor wet his lips. “My name is Zenith.”

“Zenith.” It was a good name.

Zenith rumbled low in his chest, like he was pleased. Emre’s slick began to soak through his pants.

“I-I should be going,” he squeaked. “Thank you for the food!”

He hurried down the grubby hallway back to his own apartment, feeling Zenith’s attention on him the whole way.

When he’d locked the door and carefully set his treasure on the kitchen counter, Emre tore off a chunk of warm, soft bread, dipping it into the stew. The flavors burst across his tongue. He moaned and swallowed the bread whole, before popping more stew-soaked bread into his mouth and moaning again.

Halfway down the mug, he found generous chunks of meat.

“His meat is so big,” Emre whispered to himself. “I don’t know if I can swallow it all.”

“I’ll assume that you’re talking about the beef,” Zenith said from two doors down, his voice quiet but stillthereamidst all the sounds from their neighbors. “You should know that I don’t recommend choking onanykind of meat.”

Emre froze.He can hear me?

Gods, it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe Zenith’s hearing was almost as good as his own.

Emre clutched his face in horror, and resolved never to come face-to-face with his neighbor again.

2

RESOLUTIONS ARE FOR BREAKING

The next morning, Emre’s carefully laid plans were all shot to hell.

He was curled up on his threadbare mattress on the floor, lightly tickling eight-month-old Abbie’s tummy to make her giggle.

Except heavy footsteps stopped outside his apartment.

His pulse skyrocketed. Had Ronald found him already?

He closed his eyes and hunched over Abbie, waiting for Ronald to beat his door down.

There weren’t many hiding places in here: just the tiny living room that shared the same space as his kitchen, an even smaller bedroom, and a bathroom that was almost the size of a postage stamp.

He had nowhere to hide from a vengeful ex.

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