Omega Mine- Search for a Soul Mate Read online

  “Oh, yeah? Is that what they were saying?” Evan said, sarcastically, bumping against Hank’s arm with his shoulder.

  Hank shrugged and sat down in the sand, digging his feet in. Evan didn’t hesitate to follow him down. Hank watched as Evan pushed his hair out of his face again.

  “Where did I put that hair band? I swear, Hank, it’s the world’s biggest mystery outside of where the socks disappear to…where do the hair bands go?”

  “I understand that Bon Jovi is still making a good living and kicking up their heels in New Jersey in between tours.”

  “Haha, man, hilarious,” Evan said mildly, giving up searching his jeans pockets for the band and just letting his hair fly wild in the morning wind off the ocean.

  They sat together in silence for a few peaceful minutes until Hank said, “So, good luck then.”

  “Yeah, for sure,” Evan agreed. He patted Hank’s knee and stood up, stretching, the lift of his t-shirt revealing a length of dark hair between his navel and the top of his jeans. “Later, man.”

  Hank listened to the sound of Evan walking away, the pattern of his footfalls, and the creaking of his joints. Hank closed his eyes as the sun peeped over the line of the horizon, bright and overwhelming.

  He took a deep breath, and mixed in with the scent of the sea and the salt and the sand was a touch of Evan’s sweat and warm skin, and it centered him, filling him with a sense of peace.

  Until he heard the television crew commenting, “Yeah, got that whole thing. Gonna be hard to edit it so that it’s appropriate for a family program, though.”

  Another voice, this one with an British accent, said, “Yeah, that Vaughn guy. He’s a cheeky one.”

  Hank didn’t turn around, didn’t look. As much as it made him feel trapped to have his every move recorded, it was part of what he’d been signed up for, and unless he wanted to just quit, go home to suffer it out, and to put his co-workers and friends through hell with him, then he’d have to deal.

  At least for now.

  Maybe if something got serious with someone. Then he’d have to put his foot down…on someone’s throat.

  For now, it was just Evan they recording his interactions with, and that felt safe. That was okay.

  * * *

  David and the rest of the police department were less surprised than Evan looked when Hank chose Evan to have the first one-on-one date.

  “I knew it,” one of the guys from Homicide said. “Morrow’s a fag.”

  “Explains a lot,” a woman’s voice called out, but David didn’t see who it was.

  “Shut it,” David said, glaring at the guy’s captain, demanding with his eyes that he be taken in hand. “An Omega is not a lover in the traditional sense. It’s about a soul connection, not a genital connection.”

  “Right, and Morrow’s soul is a fag.”

  The captain from Homicide took control before David had to kick some ass himself, but the room felt tense after the slur.

  “Everybody calm down,” Ben, one of Hank’s friends and fellow officers, said. David was glad he hadn’t gone over to beat the snot out of the offending officer from the other department. “It’s just the first set of fifteen. He’s just choosing someone that he doesn’t want to kill. You know how Hank is. He probably doesn’t like any of them.”

  David agreed, but there was something about Evan Vaughn that kept Hank’s interest. That even David could see.

  As it was, the host, Warren, was referring to the two of them as the Odd Couple, noting that Evan called Hank by his first name from the very beginning, and that Hank hadn’t even flinched. Warren went on, “It’ll be interesting to see how Hank reacts to Evan going to the other Alphas’ camps. One of the first traditional signs of an intent to bond is territorial behavior from the Alpha toward the prospective Omega. So far, it appears that Morrow is exhibiting this behavior completely unbeknownst to himself. Watch this clip of him smiling at one of Vaughn’s more comic comments—despite being several rooms away….”

  After the clip aired, complete with time stamps at the bottom of the screen to show that the smile directly followed Vaughn’s joke, and to indicate that the prospective Omega, Markie, with whom Hank was actually holding a conversation with, had not said anything worthy of such a stunning grin, Warren continued, “And yet Hank seems unaware that he’s monitoring Vaughn covertly, or of any of his other behaviors. What does that mean for both of them? Tune in tomorrow to see what happens during tonight’s one-on-one date.”

  David sighed, glanced around the room at the mixed-up expressions on his colleagues’ faces. He didn’t know if sending Hank to this television program had been such a good idea. Demystifying the Alpha not only to the world, but in front of his men, didn’t seem like a good idea to David.

  Then, again, it hadn’t been David’s call.

  And Hank was running out of time. There were only a few years left at the most before Hank was lost to his Alpha senses, and grew unable to control his shifting. Some had suggested that Hank, because of the years he’d spent repressing his Alpha gifts as a child, might have less than that.

  Unless an Omega was found.

  So, really, what other choice had they had? Seeing Hank fail on the job and lose lives? Watch him eventually suffer from not only the guilt of that, but the loss of control? Seeing him eventually shut down entirely, trapped in a world of sensory overload, and even, quite possibly, die?

  David cleared his throat and ordered everyone from the room. He didn’t ask who would be back the following night. In fact, he took another route entirely. “From now on, if you want to watch it. Watch it on your own time. In your own homes.” What had seemed like a good opportunity for camaraderie now felt dangerous and a breeding ground for trouble. “I don’t want to see you here. Any of you. Got that?”

  Tense looks flew around, and David didn’t really care. He glanced up at the screen again. He felt like he’d just watched Hank masturbating or picking his nose. It was one thing to see a man like Fong actively searching for an Omega, and it was another thing to watch his private friend, Hank, revealing intimate truths about himself for the whole world to see.

  Secret truths that even Hank didn’t know.

  “Come on, Charles,” David said, pulling his teenage son up by the arm. “Time to get you back to your mom’s. She’ll say I had you out too late as it is.”

  Charles jerked his arm away and glared around the room. “I don’t see what their problem is,” Charles said.

  “Who?” David asked.

  “Them,” Charles said, nodding toward the men who were still muttering words like ‘fag’ under their breath. “It’s not like he’s asking them to suck his cock.”

  David choked back a laugh, covering his mouth so that Charles wouldn’t see. “Come on, boy. I’ve got to get you home. Stop dilly-dallying around and get a damn move on.”

  Charles rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir, Dad, sir, Captain Washington, sir.”

  “And enough lip from you,” David said, escorting him out the door, proud and pleased that his kid, at least, wasn’t a bigot.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Well, if this isn’t the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” Evan said, sarcasm and laughter mixing his voice into a higher pitch than usual.

  Hank turned from studying the line of colors from the sun setting on the horizon, and lifted his water-filled champagne glass in a toast, and said, “And it’s all for you, Captain.”

  Evan laughed, walking closer to Hank, hands stuffed into his suit pockets, his tie a bit askew, and his hair loose in the wind. “Yeah, me…or whoever you’d chosen for tonight.”

  Hank smiled, a small laugh caught in his throat. “Well, you know how it is—it’s all the same, a little roses and a little champagne will have any potential Omega—”

  “On their back with their legs in the air?”

  “Shh, it’s a family show, Captain,” Hank said.

  Evan nodded and lifted his brows excitedly. “Yeah, a family show. Such great values here. Prostitute yourself for a chance at your dream.”

  Hank cleared his throat and looked away. “Is that how you see it? Is that how you feel about what you’re doing?”

  Evan backpedaled quickly. “Whoa, whoa, slow down there, Hank. I was poking fun, trying to keep it light; you know how it is. Things get intense here, and I….”

  Hank turned to face Evan again, his eyes sweeping over to the table placed atop the massive black lava rock they were standing on, which had required four sets of stairs welded to the side to reach.

  The table was covered in roses and rose petals, the food served beneath shining covered platters. There was champagne for Evan and bottled water for Hank, and the sun set vibrantly on the horizon of the crashing ocean. It was romantic, it was beautiful, and, ultimately, it did feel like prostitution.

  Hank was okay with that for himself. It was part of the deal, but to think that Evan felt that way—it unnerved him, made him feel unsteady, as though the rock were shifting beneath him.

  “Do you, Evan?”

  Evan’s eyes were on his face, studying it, serious and nervous, too. “Truth?”

  Hank snorted. “Yeah, truth.”

  “Well, no and yes. I’m here of my own volition. I’m aware of the games they play, and that it’s all fake in a way, but I know that I’m also looking for something real.”

  Hank crossed his arms over his chest, unconvinced.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know that’s what they all say on those stupid reality shows, and I know that this is one of those stupid reality shows, but…”

  Evan stepped up to his side, his pulse beating faster, and his eyes dilating. Hank took in these changes and wanted to calm him, but he didn’t know how.

  Evan laughed, but it sounded st
rained. “I don’t know, Hank, man, all right? I just know that I wanted to do this, and here we are, and look!” Evan’s grin cracked wide and it was real. Something unwound inside Hank, and he felt his shoulders relax. “Champagne for me, water for you, a lovely view…and we’re friends right? Or starting to be? So, why waste it? I know you didn’t choose me for any reason other than that you don’t want to punch me—very much. So, no worries there, man.” Evan reached out and stroked Hank’s arm.

  He sucked in a strangled breath.

  Evan’s smile turned soothing. “Just take some deep breaths. See this for what it is, and let it go. Let it go…that’s it. In and out, and have a drink of water, too, while you’re at it. It’s good for the mind and body. Hydration is very important in life, in more ways than anyone really—”

  “Captain?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Right. And you’re breathing now anyway. And drinking. Good job.”

  Hank glanced at the cameras that had been rigged along the perimeter of the stone, recording everything about their interactions. He could feel them, hear them, smell them all the time. They were everywhere but in his room, which he’d insisted on as an important exception, and the producers allowed the privacy when he’d pushed. Still, he forgot them sometimes. He had to or risk losing it like a caged animal.

  “So, what’s for dinner?” Evan asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’m famished.”

  “Hope you’re not a vegetarian,” Hank said.

  “Nope, bring it on.”

  Several hours later, Hank sat with a pretty intoxicated Evan in the giant beanbag chair that’d been placed on the rock for them to relax on after dinner. At first they’d talked about Evan’s experience at the Omega program at Spruce University. It was a good program, one of the best in the country, and it took a very talented Omega candidate to gain entry to it.

  “All Omega candidates have the natural ability to bring Alphas out of a trance and to form a bond,” Evan said. “Just like with Alphas, it is presumed to be genetic, but they still haven’t discovered what combination of genes makes that happen. Some of us, though, seem to have stronger abilities, and that’s part of the testing that you have to go through before you can even get into any program, much less a program of Spruce’s quality.”

  Hank knew, though, that it took more than that to attend Spruce University. Evan was exceptionally intelligent, Hank could tell that from simply being around him, but he would have had to pass some incredibly difficult exams with flying colors to be admitted to the Spruce program.

  “I started studying for it when I was sixteen,” Evan said, taking another sip of wine. “When I was kid, I’d stolen a microscope—yes, Hank, I was a science nerd, okay?—and the cop who talked to me just happened to be an Alpha, and he touched my arm during the lecture about how it was bad to steal, and he was like… woah, you know? Just totally shocked. He said he’d never felt a stronger Omega, not even his own, and he’s the one who got me started on this path.”

  Hank rubbed a hand over his eyes, confused by the weird feeling in his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of the cop in Evan’s story being the first to sense Evan’s Omeganess.

  “And that was that. He was like, ‘If you become a bonded Omega, you can have as many microscopes as you want. I promise you that.’ And I was, like, ‘Cool,’ but when I started studying tribes and their Alphas, that all faded away. I couldn’t stop learning. I was absolutely starved for it, man. And that’s when I knew what it meant to be predestined for something—or someone.”

  Hank felt Evan slump against him a bit. He wondered if he should move, or make the kid sit up, but he didn’t. “You’ll make a great Omega for an Alpha, Captain.”

  Evan’s smile, and the way he tucked his hair behind his ear tugged at Hank’s heart. He wanted to protect that motion, that expression, and he understood completely why the Alpha who’d met Evan as a kid had encouraged him.

  Somehow, a little later, they started talking about Evan’s old lovers, and he began comparing the technique of one girl to another, adding, “I showed my last girlfriend my journals, man, ’cause I thought she’d appreciate the honesty, you know?”

  “You mean, you hoped she’d learn a thing or two?” Hank countered.

  “Well, maybe, it wasn’t a conscious thought, but, yeah, maybe.”

  “Just how detailed were these journals, Captain?”

  “Hank, I’m an anthropologist.”

  Hank chuckled, sipping his water, enjoying the wind in his hair and the scent of saltwater. “Detailed, then.”

  “Yep.”

  Hank smiled and shook his head, his arm going around Evan’s shoulders and shaking him. “You’re supposed to burn the evidence; don’t you know that? When I got married, I burned all the old letters from the old girlfriends.”

  “A purification ritual—”

  “No, just an offensive tactic.”

  Evan shifted out from under his arm, and sat up a little straighter. His face was red from laughing and talking, and probably from drinking, too, but he looked pretty charming with his expression all serious and innocent in a strange way. Hank had never seen someone look at another person with such open, trusting eyes. “You had a wife, Hank?” Evan asked.

  Hank swallowed and looked away from the supposed windows to Evan’s soul, and he shrugged. “Yeah, didn’t last. I wasn’t…. It didn’t work out.”

  Evan nodded, leaning back against the beanbag chair, turning his eyes up to the sky. Hank glanced up at the star-filled night, too, and tried to follow a line of light from each star, and he wanted to laugh a little when it seemed that each one directed his eyes back to Evan’s face. He wondered if someone had spiked his water, because he was feeling strangely jovial, loose, and easy. Kind of high.

  “It’s hard…when it’s not an Omega,” Evan said, softly.

  Hank nodded, closing his eyes as he thought of Valerie. He tried not to think of her too often. The sense of shame, the overwhelming failure of it all, made him feel too much, and it was hard to deal with his emotions when they came on that strong. They nearly swamped him and broke him out of reality. Once, unable to endure the pain, he’d shifted and run into the woods in his bear form and remained there a week.

  Another reason he needed an Omega.

  “You loved her,” Evan said, stating it as fact.

  “Yes. I did. But love isn’t everything,” Hank said.

  “Was she blonde?”

  “Kind of blonde,” Hank said, smiling at the memory of Valerie’s trips to the hairdresser to get her dishwater hair made lighter.

  “Leggy?”

  “Definitely leggy.” Hank thought of her legs a mile long, the way they’d parted to let him in, and he shook his head a little to get rid of the image.

  “Was it the sex?” Evan asked.

  Hank blinked. “What?”

  “It’s just that all the research indicates that an Alpha without an Omega often has trouble with sex.”

  “No, that wasn’t the problem,” Hank said, suddenly acutely aware of the cameras posted all around, and wanting to drop through the massive ton of rock beneath him.

  Evan was still talking. “There was this one guy, right? An Alpha back in the old days before we knew a lot, and he kind of blew the curve. See, all Alphas are inherently bisexual, because, you know, the right Omega can come in any kind of package, and an Alpha has to be able to bond with the Omega when presented in whatever form.”

  “Yeah,” Hank said, though his tongue felt dry and heavy. He sipped more water.

  “You already know this, Hank. I’m not telling you anything new. After all, you spent two years with the White Moon people, right? And they think that Omegas are reincarnated from life to life, and that when one Omega dies, he passes directly to another where his spirit is reborn, and on and on. They think it’s true of Alphas, too, and so there could occasionally be massive age differences to work around, and there was also the issue of how to deal with their culture’s unfortunate bias against homosexuality in general, but the Alpha and Omega could be exceptions to the rule—”

  Hank let Evan babble on because at least he wasn’t asking Hank about sex with Valerie anymore, at least he’d left that behind. Hank cleared his throat, half-listening, so the words “inherently bisexual” hit him way too late in the game to dispute. But the next thing Evan said caused him to do a double take.