I’m not smiling because of the terrible state they’re in. I’m not.
But there is a slight chance I’m smiling because they’re a man.
“Edward,” says Lord Augustus. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Alfie,” the omega breathes shakily as he sags against the doorframe. “It’s been so long…” His voice fades as his vacant gaze swivels and lands on me. “What…who is this?”
I extend my hand with great aplomb.
“Jensen Lawlor,” I say loudly and clearly. There’s something in my tone that gives me pause. I sound awfully sure of myself, and that’s a concern. Though, when I think about it, why wouldn’t I? It is my name, after all.
Once I’ve said it, it occurs to me that in this neck of the woods, people usually have a bit more to say after their names. They’re usually the lord of this or a duchy of that. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything like that to add to my name, but it’s no matter. I’ll think of something.
I take Edward’s hand and squeeze it firmly before continuing, “Chief Librarian of Beaumont Craven House and…Omega to his Honorable Lordship Alfred Augustus the Third.”
Okay.
Wow.
I wasn’t expecting that.
I can tell the lord is reeling with shock without looking at him. To settle him, I place my free hand gingerly on his shoulder and give him a series of little pats. To my absolute amazement, his arm curls around my waist and he molds me firmly against him. United, we both look at Edward.
The omega blinks several times, mouth opening and closing, and then he straightens. He seems dazed, almost as though he’s been alphaed.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He looks at Lord Augustus, then at me, and then at his car that’s parked haphazardly in the drive. “I shouldn’t be here.”
He’s dead right about that, so I give him a tight-lipped yet sympathetic nod.
With that, he turns and takes his leave.
Lord Augustus locks the door without saying a word, and I get the distinct feeling that he might be a little less than thrilled with my behavior. But I’ve already done so many things that don’t make sense tonight, so instead of apologizing, I choose to go on the offensive.
12
Alfie
Thelittlemouseturnsto face me, tugging at the hem of his pajama top to straighten the garment, and fixes me with an intense gaze.
“Well,” he says firmly, “I have just done you the favor of alifetime.”
Now, look, the medication I take impairs me. It’s a known side effect of the drug. On top of that, I was in a deep sleep when the doorbell rang. I’m not at my best right now, and I acknowledge that, but I sincerely don’t understand what’s going on.
“W-what do you mean?” I sound exactly as vague as I feel.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He pauses, eyes drifting to the left. He raises his hand to his temple to push up the glasses he isn’t wearing and drops it again. “I’ve saved you”—he points his nose a little higher in the air than normal—“from bedraggled omegas and an army of snooty relatives who want to see you mated to their offspring. Yes…that’s it. I’ve saved you. I shall attendfunctions as your partner while I’m here, and together, we’ll chase off prospective suitors and their parents to boot.”
I must be a little turned around from the events of the night because when Jensen speaks, a lot of what he says makes complete sense. What happened on my doorstep minutes ago was highly irregular. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s the first time an omega I’ve afflicted has left without me using my voice on them. It’s almost as though the little mouse saying he’s my omega had the same effect as it would have if he really were my omega.
It’s the most confounding situation. I have questions, and a lot of them, but I can’t deny that, despite the extreme irregularity of the circumstances, having an omega leave my property without coercion is a relief.
And there’s absolutely no denying that the prospect of being freed from the leering looks I get bombarded by every time I so much as set foot out of my house is an appealing one. I can’t stand the pressure that comes with my title—the matchmaking, the jubilant, jealous glances in my direction when I so much as greet an omega. The pressure, the disappointment that follows me everywhere. It’s been relentless for years. Decades, in fact.
If what happened here tonight was anything other than a fluke, having an omega on my arm—regardless of the circumstances surrounding the arrangement—might well turn out to be one of the most liberating things that’s ever happened to me.
“Naturally,” says the little mouse, placing a hand on his hip, “as I’m going above and beyond duty, I’ll be expecting compensa—”
“If it’s payment you want, it’s payment you’ll get. Name your price, and it’s yours.”
