CHAPTER 1
Hudson
Heatforsale.That’s what the ad says, just the basics – duration of heat, height, weight.
I didn’t add a photo. Not because I’m ashamed to be on the local breeder’s site, but because I don’t want someone I know stumbling across it and asking why I don’t simply find a pack.
I’m not the settling type.
The problem with avoiding a pack comes during my heat cycle. It’s right around the corner, and I need an alpha or three to get me through the fever and pain that wreck my body for days.
Being a male omega has its perks. People want to know if the gossip’s true – if we come as much, and as often, as they’ve heard.
I’m always happy to help them find out…as long as I get something out of it.
That something being repeat orgasms.
Within five minutes of hitting publish, three applications land in my inbox. I used the local Omega Center to vet the applicants; I’m not risking some anonymous alpha who might sell me for profit. If I’m going to fuck around, it’ll be on my own terms, not to line a trafficker’s pockets.
The first application lists six alphas and two betas, all men. Eight people. Even for me, that’s a bit much. The second has one alpha and three beta women. Tempting, but not ideal.
The third one…
Now we’re getting somewhere. Three alphas, all men. They attached photos, and I find myself mesmerized by the bright blue eyes of the pack lead, Mason. The others – Alex and Desmond – are solid, muscular, but not so big they’d crush me.
All omegas are petite, and I’m no exception. I’m small – five-four, a hundred and thirty pounds – but strong. Fitness keeps me sane and flexible, both in and out of bed.
Yeah, I know how that makes me sound. But I don’t work out for vanity reasons. It’s the high. And when I don’t have someone to take care of my other physical needs, I find the rush from lifting.
Mason, Alex, and Desmond. They’re all partners in a law firm and looking for…
Wait – they want to rent out my womb?
Pulling the laptop closer, I tilt my head and read through the entire bio. My heart goes out to them, it really does. They’re bonded packmates, not simply three alphas who’d formed a pack, and they desperately want to grow their family but haven’t found the right omega in the twelve years they’ve been together.
Twelve years together would make them older. Mmm. I’ve always had a bit of a zaddy fetish.
Scrolling further, I pause at the bid they entered. That’s a whole lot of zeroes and way more than I initially put as a minimum for heat services.
After staring at the bid long enough to assure myself I am absolutely seeing all those zeroes, I go back to the long ass message they sent.
Not only are they willing to pay me for the use of my womb but would also either move me into their house or pay my expenses while we try for a kid. They would pay all my medical bills and then raise the baby, giving me the choice of whether I want to stay in our son’s or daughter’s life afterward.
It’s a generous deal, minus the part where I carry their baby. Morning sickness, stretch marks…
Goodbye abs.
Still, my chest tightens picturing the kid with their smiles.
And I’d be the one either stuck with a part-time kid or walking away from someone with my DNA living with strangers.
I suppose they wouldn’t be strangers by the time a child is conceived then born. I could always stay in the child’s life as a cool uncle, pop in periodically with gifts so I know they’re happy and healthy and taken care of by the three alphas.
A few more applications come through as I continue to stare at the picture of Pack Anders, rereading their profile over and over.
With a sigh, I glance at the others, try to make myself pick one of them, but I keep returning to the three alphas.
Someday I’ll probably wonder what drew me to them or to the idea of carrying a child for strangers, but for now, I’ll chalk it up to the money.
