Page 16 of Slow Heat
Jason woke upin his old room at his parents’ house and stared at the blue sky outside the window. His heart kicked against his ribs rapidly, as his mind scrolled through the events of the day before.
Rolling onto his side, he curled up in a ball as a gripping rush of excruciating joy and longing hit him. He’d been dosed the night before with alpha quell. A drug created to help alphas remain civilized through the first wave of imprinting should they be unable to secure their omega’s contract immediately.
It wasn’t an unpleasant drug experience, though not as fun as the low-key hallucinogen he and Xan had scored off upperclassmen a couple of times in high school. That’d been hilarious and weird with little dancing flowers following him around and birds that spoke to him Old World Italian.
Alpha quell, on the other hand, was like a calm, cool breeze in his veins. It made the world less intense now that his alpha imprinting hormones had been triggered, but it didn’t make him useless like the suppressant used by the security guards at the library. Just relaxed. It’d definitely helped him put his excitement and fears aside last night so he could fall asleep, but now it was wearing off.
Energy trembled inside him. He wondered what his omega was doing, where he was now, how he felt about what had happened.
Chancellor Rory hadn’t seemed too optimistic the day before, and the police who’d interviewed Jason for his statement had seemed to pity him in some way he didn’t fully comprehend. Then there had been the heated, urgent whispering of his parents the night before. He’d wanted to stay awake to eavesdrop on their conversation, but after they’d plied him with alpha quell and a rare glass of wine, he’d been so drowsy he’d let Father lead him up to bed.
He remembered the way Father’s handsome face had lined with sudden exhaustion as he’d tucked Jason in with his usual gentleness.
“It’s going to be all right, son,” he’d said, smoothing a hand into Jason’s hair and dropping a kiss onto his forehead, just like he had when Jason was a little boy. “We’ll make this right for you.”
Pater had appeared in the doorway, a drink in hand—whisky, which meant he was stressed—and Father had risen to join him. They’d both stared in at Jason from the open doorway, black silhouettes illuminated by yellow hallway lamps. He’d fought to stay awake, wanting to climb out of bed and follow them through the house, to their wing, and listen outside their door.
Even in his groggy state, he’d known he was an alpha facing an unusual situation, and he couldn’t let them treat him like a child. No omega would be impressed by that. Especially not an older one. He’d need to be strong and ready to lead. But to do that, Jason had to know things, and his parents weren’t giving him all the facts. Just the ones they thought he needed to hear.
But sleep had gobbled him up greedily and spit him out in the morning light. The same light that now crept across the floor of his room. Shadows of tree limbs tossed in the autumnal breeze filtering in through the open window and cooling the room.
He sat up cautiously but the wine and alpha quell hadn’t left him with a tender head like the bottle of brandy Xan had stolen from his father’s liquor cabinet and snuck into their dorm room on their first day of college. They’d drained the whole thing, then fucked, and then fucked some more. Jason had found it hard to come after consuming so much liquor, but Xan had behaved as wantonly as some of the omegas in their educational videos.
But the morning after had been awkward, with Xan vomiting everywhere and Jason’s head a bruise on the inside.
Not to mention Xan’s usual guilt…
He turned to his bedside table and discovered a glass of water and four more alpha quell pills. They glinted in the sunlight. They were blue, and the size of small beads strung on a child’s necklace. He first wet his mouth with the water and then took the pills in hand. He studied them.
What would happen if he didn’t take them? Would he be so overcome by the pull of the imprint, the desire to be with hisÉrosgápe, that he’d do something insane? Would he climb out the window and race the many streets over to Oak Avenue to pound on Valendo Aman’s door until he was either allowed entrance or he made a spectacle of himself? Or the police came again?
He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching the pills in his fist. He let the sensation wash over him, the tug of desire, the need to mate and bond. Was it pain or pleasure? Was it both? It felt like an open wound, something that needed treatment, and the only salve was Vale’s presence.
Vale.
Who was he, anyway? What did Jason really know about him?
A professor.
A man with black hair (gray at the temples, according to Xan).
A man with moss-green eyes.
A voice that curled into Jason and gripped him hard, yet sweet.
But all of that wasn’t real. It was instinct and pheromones and imprinting.
Who was Vale? What kind of person? He’d been on his own a long time.
Vale wouldn’t be like some young omega straight out of Mont Juror. The kind of omega Jason had assumed would be hisÉrosgápe,and with whom the only obstacles to overcome would be potentially differing opinions on sports teams and vacation plans.
No, Vale would have life-sculpted opinions and unshared experiences Jason would need to reconcile.
Jason took one of the pills and washed it down. He waited a few minutes, curious how quickly it would take effect and if the smaller dosage would do anything at all. His gaze followed the shifting shadows of the tree limbs.
Somewhere on Oak Avenue was a man who was Jason’s.
A man he knew nothing about.
