Page 39 of The Omega's Alpha
“What?” Holland gaped at him.
“Mate me,” Quin repeated, and pulled him closer. “I mean it. As soon as we get back. We can do a big ceremony for the pack later, maybe at Birth Moon. But let’s do a small one now, for us.”
“No.” Holland slipped his hand out of Quin’s and took a step back. “I’ve told you, I’m not interested in a mating.” He bent to pick up one of the blankets and began folding it with short, jerky movements.
“Why? You don’t think we’re good together?” Quin reached for the blanket but Holland tossed it, neatly folded, on the ground and picked up another one.
“I do. But I know what I am.” He turned back to Quin with fond exasperation. “You’re Alpha, unless you do something crazy like Abel. But until then, you have to be careful of your reputation. And mating a disgraced omega won’t do that.”I can’t give you pupswent unsaid, but the words hung in the air between them anyway. He stepped forward and rested one palm against Quin’s cheek. “I’m okay with this. It’s more than I had any right to expect.” Then he kissed Quin and whispered, “Please don’t ask again. It hurts.” He let his hand fall and turned away to swiftly fold the rest of the blankets. “We should go. I don’t know how no one’s missed us yet.”
Quin stifled the urge todo something crazy like Abel—he’d promised Abel that he would look after the pack and a massive lover’s spat in the middle of Green Moon probably didn’t fall under that heading. Instead, he followed Holland as he left their little haven of privacy with Dorian on one hip and Agatha clinging to the hem of his t-shirt. But Quin didn’t intend to give up. No matter how hard Holland tried to hide the pain these choices gave him, Quin could smell it in his scent, a sharp bitterness that drifted beneath Holland’s usual earthy allure. It always faded quickly, but Quin was hyper-alert to anything to do with Holland and it hadn’t taken him long to notice the subtle shift of scent when Holland denied himself something. This in particular.
Be mine, and you’ll never smell like that again.But Holland was stubborn too, which Quin suspected was part of how Holland had survived with so few apparent emotional scars. He would need more reason than justwe’d enjoy it, I sleep better when you’re around, you make me laugh when I thought I never would again. But what could he offer against Holland’s determination not to be a weight around Quin’s neck?
He pushed those thoughts away as they broke into the open, garnering curious glances in a few quarters, but mostly being ignored as much as any pack ignored their Alpha. Still, he wasn’t going to let this idea of change drift away and disappear. Not only for Holland’s and his own sake, but for the pack as a whole. Shifters could hardly complain about the humans keeping the shifters under their thumb if they did the same to their own people and it was still on Quin’s not-so-secret agenda of reform to change how the packs viewed omegas, in the hopes that it would help drive change between humans and shifters as well.
Yeah, cloak it in altruism. You just want him in your bed every night.He did. If it hadn’t been for the repudiation, he thought Holland would like to be there too. Actually, he knew it, because they’d had that talk, hadn’t they? And why couldn’t they have both? The sticking point was Holland and those deeply held ideas about what an omega was supposed to be. He didn’t care that Holland couldn’t have pups. Damn, but there were probably going to be pups here who would need families because theirs were now…gone. But Holland did care, and it left him with a puzzle that was bigger than his brain today.
Quin jogged to catch up and tossed Agatha up onto his shoulders so he could tuck Holland in under his arm, wondering even as he did it if this would be the time that he’d pushed too hard and Holland would push back for good. A wave of relief rolled over him when Holland snaked an arm around his waist and turned a smile up at him.
He pressed a kiss to Holland’s cheek. “If I give you the pack credit card and loan you the lawyer to drive, can you order some things for the funeral? Offerings for people to give?” Or maybe Harris could take him—Quin rather liked the thought of sending Holland out with a Marine for protection.
“Can we afford that?”
“No. But we’ll figure it out later.”
Holland hugged him, and Quin wondered if he’d picked up on just how much Quin needed to be hugged right now. “Sure. I’ll be responsible.” They paused by the Mercy Hills tent to send the pups in to put the blankets away and Holland turned to face him. “Meet you by our tree tonight at bedtime? If the day keeps us too busy?”
“Deal.” Quin kissed him quickly, wary of letting himself fall into that well of love, and turned away to head back to his gruesome excavation. “Will you go to the funeral?”
Holland frowned and shook his head. “We’ll want as many Green Moon to go as possible. I doubt there’d be space.”
“I think we can fit one more in. And someone needs to stand with these two.” It would be hard, but the pups would need to say goodbye before they could begin healing.
“Ah.” Holland glanced down at the little boy riding his hip. “I hadn’t thought about them going.”
“They should make an offering.”
Holland nodded. “I’ll make sure they get something.” His hand tightened around Quin’s wrist, begging comfort, and Quin leaned in close again. Holland sighed and let his head rest briefly against Quin’s shoulder. “I have to go see to the pups and make sure there’s someone to cover for me.”
“I’ll send someone to get you once we have a vehicle free,” Quin promised, and then they parted, each to their own place in the recovery.
Chapter Thirty-Three
As the light faded, the shifters of Green Moon and Mercy Hills began to drift slowly toward the center of the enclave, a wide open area that used to be where the pack gathered for full moon and matings and other celebrations. Today, the very center would become the funeral pyre for some of the shifters that had died because of the fire.
Oddly enough, the humans that Garrick had brought wanted to attend the funeral. Or maybe not oddly—Quin grabbed the photographer as they made their way through the dark streets. For sure this ceremony wasn’t going to be some human’s stepping-stone to fame and fortune, or just guest spots on low rated talk shows.
“No pictures. You’ll respect these people or I’ll throw you out of the enclave myself.”
“Easy there, Alpha. You don’t want to give your people a bad reputation.”
“We already have a bad reputation,” Quin said in a low voice edged with a growl.
The photographer twitched and Quin was pleased to see that he’d judged the tone right. He didn’t want to frighten the man, but he wanted to be sure to drive his point home.
Garrick came up trailing the other two humans. They all looked as tired as Quin felt and only the reporter protested when Quin moved them to the edge of the area. He didn’t have long to protest, though, not even long enough for Quin to say something, before Laine snapped, “Shut up, Nigel. These people lost what amounts to a third of their family. We don’t get a front row seat to gawk.” He nodded sharply to Quin and then stared out over the slowly gathering crowd.
Well, at least Quin knew now why Abel had let the man keep coming around, even though it had cost the pack in terms of Garrick’s time to read contracts or deal with government legislation. He decided ignoring the men was the best thing to do and started scanning the crowd. If Laine was here, then Holland had to be here somewhere too. What had he managed to find to offer with the dead?
