The doors hiss open, but the lavender scent lingers, like Felix had visited briefly and left traces of his presence.
“You don’t have to do much with the credit cards,” a female voice says. “The important thing is that we only take these few, and they’re only for purchases ten dollars or more.”
“What if they only have a different card?” another voice asks, soft and familiar. It settles the nervous patter of Kade’s heart, even before he glimpses the man behind the counter, the way his green eyes widen.
Kade’s pulse hammers to life. He sees only Felix, the pink of his lips, the point of his chin, the way his maroon uniform sags loosely around his shoulders. Felix’s throat works. He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, and it feels like the first time Kade finds him after five lonely years, like an oasis in a desert.
The woman next to Felix looks between them, and her eyebrows rise. “Oh.”
Felix’s gaze drops to Kade’s jacket, his jeans, and he’s gulping, anchoring his eyes on the register. “The credit cards, Susan. Could you explain it again?”
Susan glances at Kade, then looks back down at the register. “If they don’t have a credit card...”
Kade wanders around the store, squeezing between the narrow aisles. It feels as though the place was built for kids, or people without broad shoulders. The chip packets rustle against his elbows, and the price-tagged ends of product hooks reach out to gouge his skin. He squeezes through the shelves, grabs a bottle of soda from the fridges, and heads back to the counter.
“Want to practice ringing it up?” Susan asks.
Felix gulps. Kade can’t help smirking a little, at the way things have worked out. Even if he doesn’t have Felix back, his bondmate still has to talk to him, and it’s a relief after days of not hearing his voice.
“Hello,” Felix chirps, in that high, fake tone of his. “How’s your day?”
“Better,” Kade says, sniffing at him again. It’s only then that the thrill of seeing Felix wears off, and he realizes: “Your smell is gone.” It feels damn weird, only smelling a fraction of Felix’s scent, when the last days of his heat should be intensifying it. Or was he on the tail end of his heat when Kade met him?
Felix’s shoulders tense. “I thought it would be better not to have a scent,” he says, beeping the soda with a handheld scanner. His eyes lock on the register. “Is that all for you?”
It feels wrong, like Felix is avoiding him somehow. Kade bristles. “No,” he says. “There’s more.”
Forest-green eyes flicker up to his, wary. Kade studies the brittle way Felix holds himself, the mask of his face. It’s not something Kade should mention at his workplace. “How can I help you?” Felix asks, strained.
“When do you get off work?” Kade says, because to hell with workplace boundaries. Felix is—was—his bondmate.
Felix opens his mouth, hesitating.
A guy steps through the doors with a swagger, short with a gray mustache, his shirt stretched over his pot-belly. An alpha, but a lesser one, even lower-ranked than Kade is in this town. He smells like bitter-wood, like decay. Kade steps instinctively between him and Felix.
The man sniffs, beady eyes snapping toward the counter. “You,” he says, stepping around Kade to jerk his chin at Felix. “Where’s your smell?”
Felix stares. The other cashier frowns, and Kade’s mouth twitches. Guy’s a damn asshole.
“Suppressed it,” Felix says, his expression full of thinly-veiled distaste. “Sir.”
He’s your boss? How dare he talk down to you?
“I hired you because you’re an omega,” the man says, mustache quivering. “But at least smell like something. Where’s your alpha, huh?”
“Here,” Kade snarls, heat surging up through his chest. How dare you threaten my omega? He rounds on the manager, pulling his shoulders back, baring his teeth.
The man’s eyes widen. He backs away, pasting on a cajoling smile. “Come on, now. He’s just an omega.”
“He’s mine,” Kade says, advancing on him. The manager holds his hands up, still smiling. Kade wants to punch him in the jaw. “I mark him however I want.”
The moment it leaves his lips, he knows the reaction Felix will have: glowering, frowning. They aren’t together anymore. Kade doesn’t have the right to even lie about him.
But pink sweeps up Felix’s neck. Kade stares. What?
Kade fishes some change from his pocket, dropping it into Felix’s outstretched palm. His fingertips skim Felix’s skin, sending a thrill down his nerves.
Felix shivers. He counts the coins, drops them in the register, then presses a nickel of change into Kade’s palm. His fingers linger warm against Kade’s skin. “Four,” Felix says, glancing at the clock just above the counter. “Thank you.”
“You know how to keep him disciplined, of course,” the manager says behind Kade. “He’s a rude one. I almost regret hiring him.”
Kade whirs on the manager, glaring, and the other alpha backs down, lowering his stare.
“Touch him, and I’ll break your neck,” Kade growls. He stalks out the door, the manager’s stare an itch on his skin.
He spends the next hour regretting his words. Felix has always let him stake his claim in front of the other alphas, because that’s what it is—protection. A defense mechanism to stop people from pestering them. Now, Kade isn’t sure. They aren’t together anymore, and maybe Felix wouldn’t be okay with him saying that.
Once he refuels the bike, he rides down the street, taking a long loop to kill the minutes. His uncertainty dulls along the way; Felix agreed to meet with him. It’s more time together, and Kade will gladly accept it.
Some pair we are, he thinks, tipping his head back to face the cloudless sky. I’m not in control at all.
By the time he pulls back into the gas station, the sun has sunken lower, and more cars have pulled up to the pumps. Kade waits by
