He stroked his cock through his boxer-briefs, then remembered Harris had wanted him to put on some pants. Valen growled. He could see why, though. We owe our instructor some respect, Harris would say.
Thing was, if he and Harris were the ones paying for private classes, then it didn’t matter what they wore, right? People were always going on about shirtless firefighters, and naked firefighters on calendars. Valen had the biceps to show for it, had the pecs and abs, and thighs, and everything.
If their instructor was omega like Harris said he might be, then he probably wouldn’t mind Valen strutting around in his briefs. Hell, maybe he’d like to see Valen’s cock.
He gave himself a couple of tugs, then glanced at his phone again. The phone stopped buzzing, instead flashing a short burst of light. Dad had left a voicemail.
Sighing, Valen reached over. Unlocked the phone. He almost deleted the voicemail, but decided he may as well give it a listen. Nothing better to kill your hard-on with.
”About time you found an omega, Valen,” his dad said across the line. ”Haven’t seen you with anyone for a while. The disbursement deadline on your Grandma’s will is almost here—you’ll need to find a bondmate if you want your inheritance from her.”
“What if I don’t want it?” he asked the silent house. “You’ve been threatening me with everyone’s inheritances all my life.”
Truth be told, Valen was tired of all the threats. He’d grown up poor, with his parents losing a house to a fire, then some land to a foreclosed debt. His dad had become a firefighter, and then made enough money to pay his debts off.
To Valen’s dad, money was important. Inheritances were important—more important than his wife, even. Valen had grown up with his dad leaving bruises on his mom, late-night fights that he heard under his blankets. Valen had tried stepping in to help his mom, and his mom had slapped him.
He’d learned quickly not to get involved.
When his parents had divorced, Dad had patted his bank book and said to Valen, At least we still have some money left.
So yeah, Valen had learned his lessons: grab all the inheritances, and never get married. Seemed like the best way not to mistreat a child... was never to have one.
He dropped his phone back on the couch, stretching. He was still hard, damn it.
He checked his phone again—no messages from Big H. Harris had probably picked up the instructor from the store, and they were probably arriving in the next few minutes.
The kitchen was clean; not that Harris would be happy with it, probably. He’d find a crumb or two, and then bitch about it for the next two hours.
Okay, so maybe Valen was exaggerating, and Big H would only grumble for half an hour.
In the grand scheme of things, living with Harris wasn’t so bad. Valen wouldn’t knock anyone up by sleeping with him, and he’d get to keep his inheritance from his dad that way—no children born out of wedlock.
Funny how Dad would say that, when he was divorced from Mom. That had been a months-long ordeal of arguments, of things breaking around the house.
But an inheritance was an inheritance. Valen had lost his insurance once, gone to the hospital, and almost wiped out his savings. The time in the hospital had proven that he could never have enough money, that all it took was a broken arm, and he’d lose the things he’d saved.
Except sometimes he wondered if it was worth it, chasing something superficial like money. His own life didn’t matter that much; no one would really care if something awful happened to him.
There had been an omega once, back when he was in high school. Valen still remembered Sam Brentwood, still remembered Sam’s curious hands on him, the delight in his eyes when Valen had stripped, and Sam had crawled into his lap, a wide grin on his lips.
Hard to forget Sam. They’d dated for a year, and Valen had considered marrying Sam, when Sam had always looked at him with those bright eyes. As though Valen could do anything, and things would turn out all right.
So maybe Valen had been thinking about him for the last few months.
Or the last few weeks. Maybe just yesterday.
He’d tried, on and off, to look for another omega after Sam left. But Valen remembered the brokenness in Sam’s eyes, remembered feeling like nothing he did would’ve made Sam stay.
Have you thought about being bondmates? Sam had asked eleven years ago. You and me. I mean... are we forever?
Valen had hesitated. And Sam had asked, What if we had a baby somehow?
Valen had shaken his head so hard, he’d almost sprained his neck. Hell, if Harris asked the same thing, Valen’s answer would probably be the same. He hadn’t enough money for a baby. He was still saving up so he could be a proper alpha and afford all the things. Kind of like Big H.
Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Harris was Valen’s role model. He was wise, and hot, and he’d worked damn hard to get to where he was. Valen was proud of Harris. He liked Harris in a way he couldn’t explain, when he was supposed to like only omegas.
He liked Harris enough to disobey his orders, so Harris wouldn’t step into those compromised buildings. Valen getting hurt was okay. Harris? Valen wanted Harris safe.
So maybe Valen liked both alphas and omegas, and maybe that was okay. Did it matter? Maybe it did to his dad, but to everyone else? Who knew?
Harris was reluctant to tell their coworkers they were living together. Much less that they were dating. And even though Valen knew the reason why—if his dad found out, Harris would get into some deep shit—it felt as though Harris thought of Valen as some dirty secret.
Sometimes, Valen remembered the times he
