Everyone knows omegas can be dangerous during heat; that's why there are restrictions on what they can do. Not that those restrictions have stopped Zihan, who was already a talented martial artist when his first heat struck. He's spent the last decade a loner by necessity, an omega on black market suppressants pretending to be an alpha can't afford romance.
Jackson has a smile for everyone except himself. A former runaway, then heat house stud, and briefly a petty criminal, he's finally found his place at Protection & Retrieval Services, Inc. He'll never be wanted for a long-term relationship, but with friends who are practically family, he's come to terms with that. Then in strides Zihan, a new recruit with a mysterious air.
When Zihan's suppressants are cut and heat starts to overcome him, he thinks his secret is busted. What he doesn't expect is for Jacks to offer to help. While the shell Zihan grew around himself years ago has been cracked, his instinct is to repair it, and the wall Jacks built for self-protection is solid. Will these two men find a way to tear their defenses down, or forever walk away from the possibility of love?
Something about Jacks, about his scent, was bugging Zihan. It wasn't ... comfortable. It was too assertive, invading his lungs and making his heart beat faster.
And then there was Jacks himself, and the fact that he wasn't reacting at all to Zihan's pissiness, which just made Zihan feel guilty, which made him irritable about feeling guilty, which kind of made him pissy. “You can go home,” he told Jacks's retreating back.
Jacks set the glass in the sink. “Do you want me to go home?”
Zihan froze. No. No, he really didn't. He was too afraid that would come out needy, though, and alphas weren't needy. Ever. So he didn't say anything.
After a beat Jacks ran the water and washed the glass, setting it on a hand towel to dry.
“I am sorry.” Zihan spoke the words on an exhale, bracing his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. “I think I am just out of the sorts.”
“That's understandable.”
He really wished Jacks would stop being so reasonable. He wanted an argument.
That wasn't like him. Maybe he couldn't control his emotions, but he could control his actions. He took several deep breaths before he did something rash.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.” Yes. “I suppose so.”
Jacks brought more hot and sour soup. This time, Zihan ate all of it.
When the bowl was empty Jacks took it and set it to one side on the floor. “I brought a couple of my hoodies over. Do you want to put one on?”
Why would he want to put on someone else's hoodie? He had his own. Yet he found himself saying, “Yes, please,” in a much meeker voice than he'd heard out of his own mouth since childhood. Had he sounded too omega? Maybe feeling like death was excuse enough.
He tugged the hoodie on when Jacks handed it to him, not bothering to check the appearance or size. It was obviously going to be too big, but it wasn't like he'd be going out. As soon as he had it on he relaxed a little more. He could feel his back loosening, and wondered exactly how rigid his muscles were.
Cocooned in a wonderful, soothing scent and feeling warmer to his very core, he flopped sideways on his pillow and sighed.
“Zi?”
He opened his eyes to find Jacks crouched beside his futon. Jacks had such lovely blue eyes. There was a darker ring around the outside, and the green within. An ocean in miniature. “Hm?”
“I need you to be honest with me, all right? I promise I'm safe.”
That woke Zihan a little more. He frowned and pushed upright. Jacks remained in a squat, looking up at him. “What's going on?” Zihan asked warily.
Jacks certainly looked safe, sitting down cross-legged, expression clear and open, body language relaxed. When he spoke his voice was gentle. “Remember that napkin I had you blow into?”
Zihan nodded slowly.
Earnest and sincere, Jacks said, “The doctor thinks you're going into heat.”
Everything came to a dead stop. There were no thoughts, no emotions. Just a cold void that swallowed him up. He felt his lips move, heard his voice. “That’s impossible.”
