Page 17 of Slow Heat
A man his parents saw as a threat.
The thrumming undercurrent of alpha instinct searched constantly.
(Where, where, where is he—he was right here last night—where has he gone?)
As the alpha quell kicked in, the urge dulled a little. Like turning the volume on Pater’s new radio down a notch. Did he really need all four pills? Was he such a slave to physiology that he needed to dial himself down four whole notches?
Maybe just one more.
Jason swallowed a second blue pill and then finished the glass of water.
He rolled from the bed and headed into the bathroom attached to his room. One door opened to the hallway and the other to his bedroom. He locked both, pissed, showered, and shaved.
He took his time, getting every last hair, even though his insides were shaking as a small plot grew in his mind. He knew the most important part of any plan was to have a desired outcome in mind, and his outcome was very simple: find out more about Valendo Aman.
Waiting for his parents to call Vale and make arrangements to meet, waiting for his father to uncover any dirt from the private investigator he’d no doubt engaged the night before, or waiting like a timid little bunny for a carefully arranged meeting with their lawyers and family present wasn’t going to give him the information he needed now.
There was really only one way to get that.
He straightened his blond hair into a neater flop on his forehead, wished for a layer of muscles he didn’t have, and then dressed quickly in the closest clothes at hand: khaki pants, a plain blue shirt, and sneakers.
Stepping back into his room, he made as little noise as possible. Then he crossed to the window, slid it open on oiled tracks, and crawled out onto the sloping roof just below, before slipping down the vine-covered trellis.
The soles of his shoes hit the ground with awhumpand he was off, down the sidewalk, across the road, and heading north toward Oak Avenue and Valendo Aman.
He didn’t need an address. As cranked up as he was, he’d know his omega’s scent from five hundred feet away.
The alpha quell slipped through him gently, and he felt certain he’d be able to contain his impulses on half the dose his parents had left for him. Still, he’d tucked one of the additional pills in his pocket just to be safe.
As he walked, he admired the morning. The streets were freshly swept by the new trucks the city had bought to rustle and vacuum up debris. People hurried on their way to work or school, and it belatedly occurred to Jason that he was missing classes. He’d have to ask Xan for notes.
The latest fashion for bonded omegas was a gold circle pin on their collars, a sign to any wondering alpha eye that they weren’t available for a contract or surrogacy, nor for plain old sexy fun. Jason noted that some omegas wore the circle in gold, others in silver, and one wealthy omega wore a circle of diamonds on his well-starched dress shirt, tucked into a thick leather belt, and stylishly tailored trousers.
Jason nodded at the man as he walked by. He knew his pater wouldn’t wear one and found them offensive, but the thought drifted away as his eye caught on a bonded pair laughing by the bakery.
They were of the same cohort, obviously. Both dressed casually, like they were perhaps on vacation and had tumbled straight out of bed and into the city streets to procure the warm coffees currently steaming in their hands. They passed a white bag of sugared breads between them.
“My favorite!” the dark one cried, pulling out a gooey, cinnamon-scented loaf.
His alpha quivered with the implied praise and pulled his omega close, kissing his forehead. “Like I could forget.”
What was Vale’s favorite sweet? Or color? Where did he like to vacation?
Jason’s gut twisted, a strange panic pooling inside him. What if Vale didn’t like the shore? What if the cottage where Jason had spent most summers of his life was left abandoned in favor of adventurous trips to snow-covered mountain peaks and freezing-cold tents just to please a man he’s only just met?
Who was Vale? What was it about beingÉrosgápethat Jason felt so viscerally desperate to please him? What would he make Jason do?
He clenched his hands in fists and fought the whirl of emotion.
That’s what you’re going to find out, idiot. Calm down.
Oak Avenue was a nice street, though it was entirely middle class and average compared to the hulking, block-long structure in which his parents had made their home. Still, Vale’s house was outfitted nicely with a shaded front porch, a clean front walk, and a bushy abundance of overgrown garden peeking around from the back. The wood slats were painted a seaside blue, which soothed Jason’s panic about the cottage. A man who lived in the house the color of the ocean couldn’t hate it, surely?
There were broad windows on the front of the house, open to the cool morning air. The front door was painted an earthy brown and there was a long, narrow window beside it. To the side of the house was another window, also open, and one on the upper floor, too, with a breeze-blown white lace curtain billowing in and out of it.
But the back of the house stopped Jason’s creeping in its tracks. From the edge of the property, he could smell the scent of his omega’s skin on the breeze, and he took it in deeply. The windows along the back of the house were impressive and seemed to indicate that the garden had once been a place of pride. Now it was a mess, but a glorious one: red, yellow, and orange made a carpet on the ground, and the scent of crushed and dying roses mixed with Vale’s omega odor, until Jason thought he’d swoon with rich lust.
He steeled himself to step closer.
