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Haven
I find Arlo in the kitchen, sitting on the counter with a bag of frozen peas on his face. I tsk at him as I open and close cabinets, finally locating a first aid kit under the sink. I clean him up, trying to stop the pounding of my heart; I’ve never seen anything like that. Never experienced real violence before, let alone watching someone get thrown across the room. Was this just what feral alphas were like? Or did Arlo do something to set him off?
“Why did he attack you?” I ask Arlo softly as I press a warm paper towel to his lip, which is full and tempting. “Do you know each other?”
Arlo sighs, leaning into my hand, and my eyes widen as a new scent wafts over me.
My breath catches as it fills my senses: a forest after a rainstorm, wild and untamed, beautiful, and comforting. My heart pumps, my instincts shudder, chanting over and over again:omega, omega, omega…
I stare at him, mouth falling open in shock. “You’re a… a…”
Arlo reaches up and presses a finger to my lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. I gasp in surprise at the warm press of his touch. Arlo’s eyes drop to my lips, and a fire flares there. My heart starts to pound as I lean closer, parting my lips ever so slightly. I don’t know what comes over me, but without thinking, I let my tongue flick out of my mouth. Arlo groans as the tip of my tongue tickles his finger.
“Haven, that is not a good idea,” he says hoarsely.
Pulled from whatever trance had its hold on me, I realize he’s right. I take a step back, trying to get control of myself. “You don’t want anyone to know?” I ask.
“Never would have hired me if they knew. I mean, you know as well as I do that,” he feigns a nasal, judgmental voice: “Omegas are distracting in the workplace, and too easy to manipulate.”
I snort. I’ve heard all this before, of course. We may be precious commodities, but that doesn’t usually translate to employable. Alphas rule in most industries, which means that any omega would obviously be unable to stand up for themselves in business, and everyone would be too distracted by omega-fucking to get anything done.
That attitude is why I worked from home, back before my parents got sick. Accounting is easy to do remotely, no in-person meetings necessary. If anyone had ever gotten a whiff of me, my career would have been destroyed. Though as it turned out, two sick parents made it impossible for me to work anyway, and I wound up giving up client after client until there was nothing left.
“But how have you kept this a secret?” I ask Arlo. “I smelled you when I got here. You smelled good, but I thought you were just a beta. I don’t understand.”
“Remember those drugs I mentioned? There’s one you can use to hide your scent when you need to. It’s not legal, of course, but it does the trick… unless I get too amped up.” Arlo laughs without humor. “So obviously it’s not working so well right now.”
“I don’t understand… Why are you even here?”
“It’s a long story. Just take care of the cut, will you?” Arlo replies. His words are harsher than his tone, and he softens it even more by touching a hand to my shoulder, his fingers rubbing gently against the skin of my neck.
I bite my lip, studying him carefully. The truth is, I can feel that he wants to talk. I’ve always had a talent for pulling secrets from people. Something about me, it just makes people want to tell me things. It’s not something I like to use much, but when someonewantsto talk, I can usually tell that, too. And that’s Arlo. I can feel the desperation inside him; the loneliness. So I decide to prod him just a little bit. “I know we don’t know each other well, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
He nods as I press an alcoholic wipe over the cut. He hisses a little, closing his eyes against the sting.
“At least tell me why he hit you,” I say as I reach for the antibiotic ointment.
“I’m the reason he went to prison,” Arlo says immediately. He curses under his breath as if he didn’t mean to say that. I stare at him in shock as he runs a hand through his black hair, loosening it from its bun. I swallow as my blood stirs, watching it fall around his face in thick waves.
“We grew up together in the Mission,” he continues. “My big brother was friends with Reese. Best friends. And when they were kids, they got into some trouble. The stuff they did got worse and worse and then one day, my brother… he did something bad.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough.” Arlo closes his eyes and shakes his head as if trying to free himself from the torment of the memory. “I knew he would go to jail for a long time if I didn’t do anything.”
“So you said it was Reese?”
“No,” Arlo snarls, his eyes flying up to meet mine. His scent intensifies, and I have to bite my lip to hold back the whimper that wants to rise in my throat. I’ve met my fair share of omegas in my life, but I’ve never felt a pull to them like I feel for Arlo. Slickness blooms between my thighs, and I shift from one foot to another, feeling anxious and aroused at the same time.
Arlo seems to be unaware of what he’s doing to me, which is probably for the best. He shakes his head, still answering my question. “I wouldneverhave done something like that. Not ever. I would never have betrayed him. Reese was like…”
I wait for him to say that he was like a brother. That they were family. Instead, he blushes as he says, “He was important to me.”
Hmm, so not a brother then. A possible crush? Maybe even young love? It’s not hard to imagine how dreamy Reese must have been back then, all tough and alpha, uncorrupted by prison and bitterness. With those dark, coal-colored eyes and a shock of silky black hair to match, I can see how a young Arlo could become very enamored.
“If you didn’t turn him in, then what happened?”
“I told the cops my brother was home with me all night. I alibi’ed him. Reese didn’t have anyone to do that for him. He lived on his own. Might have been on the streets for all I know. He was one of the usual suspects in the neighborhood. The cops ‘found’ a weapon in his house.”
