He didn’t mention the doctor’s explanations, the continued hospital visits when he and Charles tried to find out what was wrong with him. Your ovum tubes are almost completely sealed, the doctor had said. The chances of a baby are less than one in a thousand.
It had been an arranged marriage, and with a signed statement from the doctor, Charles had brought their marriage certificate to the Drakestown registrar and annulled their union.
Dale didn’t blame him; Charles had been insistent from the start that he wanted heirs. When the years passed and Dale failed to bear him children, Charles had lost his patience with Dale. I should have ordered some fertility tests, Charles had said. I need a functioning omega. I’ve lost so much time in this marriage trying to conceive a child.
Charles’ parents had been worse with their insults, but there had been nothing Dale could do. He’d wanted a family, too. Wanted someone he could share a child with.
“I don’t care about kids,” Greg said, his forehead wrinkling. He stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
Dale flinched, his heart heavy. At some point, Greg would want children. He was an alpha. He belonged to a high-ranking family. Dale was too old, and he was Greg’s professor. Nothing could happen between them.
“No,” he said, backing away. “We’re done here. Please leave.”
Greg opened his mouth, as though he wanted to protest. But he studied Dale’s face, and Dale looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.
After a moment, Greg turned. He picked up the backpack he’d left on the floor, pulled his assignment out, and set it on Dale’s desk. Then he straightened his clothes, nodded at Dale, and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Dale looked around his office, at the mess on his desk, the paper cranes motionless on the walls. The room smelled like musk and aspen, like stolen moments that would come back to haunt him.
Greg was a student. Dale had slept with him, had told him the things he hated most about himself. And then he’d chased Greg away. Who knew what the basketball team would hear about him now?
Dale returned to his desk, his eyes hot, his gut swimming with unease.
None of this should have happened.
5
Greg
Greg stopped in front of his apartment door, fishing his keys out of his pocket.
The decision to drive home hadn’t been easy. Several times on the road, he’d wanted to turn around and head back to the college, knock on Kinney’s door. Step into his office and pull him into a hug.
Kinney—Dale—had looked crestfallen, a little terrified, like he was about to cry. And Greg was kicking himself for leaving Dale behind.
It wasn’t the sex that had upset him—Dale had moaned through it all. It was the mention of children, the infertility, that had shaken him, and Greg had watched him, baffled, trying to figure why fertility was so important to his professor. Everyone knew omegas weren’t so great with fertility when they were in their forties.
Thing was, Dale wasn’t going to end up pregnant. That was fantastic. Greg had no wish to knock his professor up. But he liked the thought of his cum inside Dale, his scent clinging to Dale’s clothes.
Dale hadn’t noticed, but when they’d knotted, Greg had dragged his wrists along Dale’s sides, over his hips, his chest. The entire time he’d marked Dale, Greg had thought, Mine, and something in his chest had rumbled with satisfaction.
Best of all, June wasn’t Dale’s alpha. And Greg wanted more of his professor.
For now, he wondered if Dale was going to catch crap for having Greg’s scent on him. If anyone even recognized it. Maybe that was what Dale had been worried about.
It was typical of people to have similar scents. Greg’s aspen scent was commonplace, much to his father’s annoyance. In this case, it helped. Especially when Dale and he were teacher and student, and Dale seemed to think it was wrong.
Well, it probably was. Greg’s dad would flay them both if he found out. Even though it was none of his business—a mate was a mate. Greg’s choice, not his dad’s.
He ran his thumb over the silver keys, thinking about Dale’s office. The hunger in Dale’s eyes, the curiosity, the admiration. He’d looked at Greg like he’d never seen someone so hot, and Greg had wanted to pin him down, kiss him, worship his body.
Dale had been damp and ready beneath him, spreading for Greg, musk rolling off his skin. He’d been everything Greg had dreamed about, and then some. And Greg had sunken right into him, slid into his heat like he was always meant to be there.
He wanted more, wanted a slower second time, wanted to savor every bit of Dale’s body instead of chasing their release.
Greg smiled, sliding his key into the front door. He was probably going to get into the shower and jerk off again. Once in the Porsche hadn’t been enough.
When he turned the key, the door lock didn’t click. Greg frowned.
He remembered locking the door when he left this morning, so this was... odd. The only times he found his door unlocked, well. It wasn’t pleasant.
Greg held his breath, pushing the door open.
On the leather couch, Bernard and Henrietta Hastings sat primly, drink glasses in their hands. Their eyes flickered up when he stepped into the apartment.
“Hey Mom, Dad,” Greg said, cringing inwardly. They could’ve given him a heads-up before they dropped by. He still smelled like sex. “How’re things going?”
Henrietta leaped up from the couch, hurrying over in a rush of morning glory scent. In his starched suit, Bernard scrutinized him, comparing Greg to his own standards. Greg would always be two points short of his father’s expectations.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Mom said, tiptoeing to comb her fingers through Greg’s hair. “We haven’t seen you in a month!” She came up to his chest, short and plump with curly brown hair, and she wore her favorite rose-print dress. “How has my Gregory been? You smell different today.”
She leveled
