These heats of hers are going to be the death of me.
As soon as Mags is safely in her room, I throw on a jacket and go for a late-night-turned-early-morning walk. A duet of snoring almost rattles the door to the twins’ room as I pass by, and I chuckle. Those poor boys have no clue.
Mags is clueless as well. She seems oblivious to Kip’s infatuation, and even though Kaden plays dumb, I can tell he’s head over heels, too.
The most fucked-up part of this whole arrangement?
I think I’m even more smitten than the both of them put together.
I could lie to myself, try to convince myself that she’s just that good at what she does, but it’s not some con that has me by the balls. It’s her.
Those cool, grey eyes. The way her nose tilts up at the tip. Her wild pink hair. Yeah, it’s dyed, but who gives a fuck? She looks amazing with it. Most omegas pride themselves on their natural beauty, so I think the dye job is just a big middle finger to her true designation.
It baffles me that she doesn’t have any desire to be an omega. I’ve known betas who would literally kill to have what she has, but she acts like it’s some huge burden. She refuses to talk about why, and I won’t press, so I guess it’ll remain a mystery … for now. Someday, though, she’ll have to fess up.
She can’t hide her heats forever.
As I trudge along the trail near our rented home, I turn towards the beach. At this time of night, it’ll be mostly vacant of tourists, and I can have some time to myself before the next big scam.
I mentally run through Mags’s notes on the next family: The Gradys. Middle-aged couple, rich, as always, with a twenty-five-year-old omega daughter who just can’t seem to get pregnant, no matter how many breeding agencies they go through. We’re her last hope, so to speak, which is probably the only reason the Gradys are even willing to try a freelance pack.
That’s where I come in. I have the great misfortune to be blessed—or cursed, depending on how you look at it—with some primo seed. My little swimmers have gotten every omega I’ve been with pregnant, with the exception of Mags, who takes birth control to prevent that.
I shouldn’t agree to this shit. It feels wrong to sleep with other omegas when I’m in love with the woman arranging these sessions. There’s got to be another way to make some cash.
Who am I kidding? I couldn’t talk Mags into going straight in a million years. She’s had this idea of pimping ourselves out as an alpha stud with his beta heat helpers in her head for years, and she won’t take anything else as a suggestion.
It doesn’t help that it’s been a largely successful con so far. Kaden got us in trouble that one time, and we’ve almost gotten caught stealing valuables on our way out the door, but so far we’ve been able to keep the authorities out of this. Mags isa smooth talker, and usually the families who hire us are more than happy to pay whatever she charges.
Mags charges quite a lot.
I hope this grift works out. If we can con the Gradys into paying what Mags thinks we’re worth, it’ll help feed us and keep us with a roof over our heads for a while.
Mags just needs to admit that she’s an omega. That would solve a lot of our problems. I could get a legitimate job, and Kip and Kaden would fall over themselves to help her through her heats when I’m working. She’s already got them trained, for fuck’s sake. We could get a nice house, instead of the crappy rental we’re in, one that has an extra room just for Mags and her nest.
These daydreams carry me down the beach to a small cart selling stuffed animals and flowers. There isn’t any special holiday coming up, so the owner’s clients must mostly be young alphas and omegas out for some fun on the beach.
Since it’s the middle of the night, I can’t actually buy from the cart, but I make sure to leave enough cash in the tip jar to make up for the pink teddy bear and bouquet of lilies that I swipe.
Mags will love these.
Back at the house, I place the gifts on the kitchen table at Mags’s usual spot, then start fixing breakfast. It’s almost time to get everyone up and start the job, so I might as well make sure we all have full bellies when we meet the Gradys.
Kip and Kaden come in first, eyeing the stuffie and bouquet suspiciously. Kaden looks at Kip, who shrugs, then turns to me.
“Breakfast and presents? What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing. I’m just trying to be nice.”
Kip snorts. “Mags hates surprises. The food you might be able to get away with, but the gifts? She’s gonna flip.”
I stop chopping the peppers for the omelets long enough to wave the knife threateningly in Kip’s direction. “She’ll like ‘em if she knows what’s good for her. Besides, I’m allowed to do nice things.”
“For the omega marks, maybe. Mags isn’t an omega, and she’s not a mark.”
I school my expression to avoid giving her secret away. “She’s still a woman, and women deserve nice things every once in a while.”
Kip and Kaden sit in their spots at the table and stare at each other, grinning.
