Despite their rough and awkward start, Charles was pleasantly surprised by how dutiful Myron was in his research. He’d been moved in by the time Charles woke the morning after their conversation and Charles had hardly seen him move from his post on the couch, poring over the files and papers he’d sent. Other than the fact that the omega was blindingly distracting with his tight-fitted tank top that left not a single muscle to the imagination and the dark spectacles that made him look so uncharacteristically studious, things were going swimmingly.

“Oh, fuck me!” Myron bellowed from the living room.

Maybe Charles had let his guard down too soon. He shuffled out of his bedroom, still wearing his robe since he’d spent the evening working in bed with a migraine. “What’s wrong?”

Myron looked like he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone. He pushed up his glasses, rubbing his face with a tired laugh. “Sorry, you’re so quiet I forgot you were in there. I uh, deleted the draft I was working on by accident.”

“Ah, well, that’s an easy fix if you’re using the company software,” Charles said, leaning over the couch. He pointed at the taskbar onscreen. “See that icon? The one with the blue checkbox?”

“This one?” Myron asked, proceeding to hover over every icon but the one Charles had pointed at.

“No. Here,” he said, starting to climb over the back of the couch. He lost his balance and wound up falling, but the omega caught him against his muscular chest. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Myron said, helping him sit up. “You alright?”

“Yes, of course. May I see it?”

“Knock yourself out.” Myron gave him a wry look as he passed the laptop. “Not literally, though.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Here. It’s rather simple, all you have to do is reload the last auto save and you can go into the backups if you have trouble.”

“Sweet,” Myron said, leaning to look over his shoulder. “I only lost like five minutes of work.”

“I can’t believe you’re not saving as you go.”

“If I wanted judgment, I’d hang out with my mother,” Myron huffed, taking the computer back. He gave Charles that half-smile that left him confused and elated at the same time. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. What are you working on, anyway?”

“My speech,” Myron said, stretching out as he yawned. “Well, your speech, my words.”

“Ah. How’s that coming?”

“I’m almost done. Another two hours and I should have the draft for you to look over.”

Charles blinked. “Are you serious? You got through all that research in three nights?”

“Being a slacker comes with its advantages. When I actually try, I’m pretty fast.”

“May I read it?” Charles asked, unwilling to believe that anyone, especially someone who wasn’t a professional researcher, could parse through his research that fast. Myron shrugged and handed the computer over again.

As Charles pored over the condensed version of the research that had taken him six years to complete, he felt Myron staring at him. “Well?” the omega asked.

“It’s concise and accurate, save for a few minor points.”

Myron watched him, cocking his head. “Why do you sound so sad?”

“Because you made six years of my life fit on four pages.”

Myron gave him a sympathetic laugh and when the omega’s broad hand squeezed his shoulder, his bruised ego was the last thing on his mind. “Wait until you see the slideshow.”

“Where are you going?” Charles asked, watching him walk to the kitchen.

“I haven’t eaten in three hours, which is kind of a big deal for me, and something tells me you skipped lunch.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because you’re practically a skeleton,” Myron answered, rooting through the refrigerator.

Charles stared down at himself, scowling. “I’m not that thin.”

“I’m surprised there’s actually fresh food in here,” Myron remarked, opening the crisper.

“My assistant keeps it stocked.” He heard silence and when he looked up, Myron was cringing.

“Is that the one I…?”

“No,” Charles said flatly. “The young man you were jackhammering on my antique Venetian desk was my liaison, not my assistant.”

“Yeah. I feel bad about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“I do. Mostly because I know Andy got a hard time for it.”

Myron’s words sounded sincere, for once. Charles wandered over, leaning on the counter as he watched the other man make dinner. “He didn’t seem put out in the moment.” Charles winced at how poorly he concealed his bitterness. Any other Alpha would’ve been turned on by the idea of two omegas fucking. The fact that all he’d felt was an absurd amount of jealousy and misplaced anger toward Andy was just proof that everyone was right about him being a dysfunctional Alpha. The fact that he’d finally met his destined mate changed nothing. “Perhaps that came out wrong.”

Myron laughed. “A lot of the things you say come out wrong, but with that accent, you can get away with it.”

Charles’ face grew warm and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “What are you making?”

“Fajitas.”

“I’m surprised you cook.”

Myron shrugged, dousing the peppers in the skillet with oil. “I learned to impress a girl and it turned out to be useful.”

“How did the girl turn out?”

“About as well as the first time I tried to make this dish.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’m still recovering from the burn.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles murmured, surprised that he was even if he now had someone else to be jealous of. “Her loss.”

“Thanks, but nah. She wound up mating the star of our high school football team and now they have a baby and a cute little house in the burbs.”

“Is the baby ugly, at least?”

Myron laughed. “Sadly, no! He’s adorable, and I say that as someone who thinks all babies look like wrinkled potatoes.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I hope the cute little house is sitting on a termite mound.”

Myron grinned over his shoulder. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

“Sounds like your week’s gone about as well as mine.”

“What about you?” Myron asked, scooping a pile of grilled veggies into a tortilla he slid Charles’ way. Charles stood to gather a couple of beers from the refrigerator. He didn’t usually keep the stuff stocked, but it had magically appeared when Myron moved in and he could use the drink.

“What about me?”

“You know what turned me into a bitter old maid,” Myron said, turning off the stove before he followed Charles back over to the couch. “Your turn.”

“I seem bitter, do I?”

“No, you just seem…” Myron hesitated. “Lonely.”

“Ah. Suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“So, who was it?”

“Who was who?”

“The girl or guy who fucked you up bad enough that you’ve spent every night I’ve lived with you going to bed at nine when you’re rich and hot enough that you could have literally anyone.”

Charles stared at him, convinced he’d heard wrong. Hot? Now that was a first.

Yes, he knew he was objectively attractive, but his personality was off putting to most and he’d had more interest from other Alphas over the years than he had from omegas. A one-night stand from grad school had gently informed him that he was “too femme” to be relationship material, and he wasn’t aggressive enough in bed to keep her interest.

“No one in particular,” he admitted, folding his napkin into thirds. Another peculiar habit that certainly made him poor dinner company. “I’m married to my work. That precludes anything serious.”

“Guess I can see that.” Myron took a gulp of beer, but Charles could feel himself being watched even though he didn’t have the courage to look up. Myron unsettled him and he was tempted to forego his paranoia about his research simply because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle sharing close quarters with the strange omega. “You ever think of entering the program?”

“The matching program? I’m already part of it.”

Myron gave him a look. “I mean actually entering it, so there’s more than a sliver of a chance of your name getting pulled.”

“No,” Charles sighed. Certainly not now.

“Can I ask why?”

The Alpha hesitated. The food was good but he was too nervous to keep down more than a bite. His anxiety had always gotten the better of him. Yet another defect in his character, according to his foster parents. “I’m not the kind of Alpha we’re looking for.”

“You’re the head of the program,” Myron said in an incredulous tone.

“Knowing what needs to be done to save the species and being what it takes are two different things. Why do you think there are so many sport coaches who don’t play?”

“Sport coaches?” Myron teased.

“Case in point,” said Charles.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know, most Alphas in your position would use the power to have a harem all to themselves, not hold themselves to the same standards they use for applicants.”

“If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s hypocrisy,” Charles admitted. “Besides, the whole point is promoting the family unit and I know I wouldn’t make a good father.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Look around. Does anything about my lifestyle strike you as conducive to parenting?”

Myron shrugged. “I don’t know. In my experience, if you actually care, you’d probably be better at it than most who do it without a second thought.”

“Perhaps. What about you?”

“I always wanted to be a dad,” Myron said in a sad tone that made Charles wish he hadn’t asked. The answer surprised him. “I never wanted to be pregnant. That’s always freaked me out, but I still wanted to start a family with my ex.”

“I’m sorry she didn’t feel the same way.” And he was. It surprised him, but even if it had meant that he and Myron never would have met, Charles found himself wishing the woman had chosen differently. That didn’t mean he didn’t hate her for having a chance with Myron and willingly blowing it.

“I thought I was, too,” Myron said thoughtfully.

“And now?”

The omega shook his head. “I don’t know. She didn’t love me. I guess it’s better I found that out when I did than waiting until we had a kid.”

“That’s a mature way to see it.”

Myron’s smile didn’t meet his eyes. “Maybe one day I’ll actually feel it.”

“And maybe one day, I’ll actually feel like the CEO of this company instead of a midlevel scientist who wound up in his chair.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Myron said, tapping the neck of his beer bottle to Charles’.

The Alpha smiled. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You didn’t eat much.”

“Not a mark against your cooking, I assure you.”

Myron frowned, searching Charles’ face. “You know, I don’t think you’ve looked like you felt okay the entire time I’ve known you.”

“You met me at what’s probably the most stressful time in my life, to be fair.”

Myron snorted. “When does it end?”

“Hopefully once the research trials are over.”

“And when will that be?”

Charles paused to think. “A year, maybe two.”

“And you’re just going to keep going nonstop until then?”

Charles shrugged. “If I don’t, no one else will.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna manage things if you burn yourself out? You refuse to share your research with anyone.”

“I shared it with you.”

“Yeah, but understanding and putting something into words is different from doing it in a lab,” Myron scoffed. He touched Charles’ face and the Alpha froze. There it was again. That spark he’d felt the first time he shook Myron’s hand in his office. It left him frozen, but he had no way of knowing if Myron felt it, too, or if the omega was as oblivious to the connection he felt as he’d been then.

Maybe that was for the best.

“You look so tired,” Myron said quietly, his eyes full of worry as they traveled over Charles’ face. The omega’s palm was a bit rough as it rested against his skin, Myron’s thumb brushing his cheek.

“I have things to take care of,” Charles said, his voice sticking in his throat.

Myron frowned. “Yeah, but who takes care of you?”

This time, Charles was too breathless to speak. All he could do was stare at Myron and realize he was at a complete loss for how to proceed. Not just with the conversation, but with life.

How was he supposed to go on working alongside this omega he needed both professional and in ways that utterly baffled him and defied any expectation he’d once held of what it would be like if he ever imprinted? He knew what Myron was to him, but how was he ever supposed to make the omega understand when none of the things he felt fit the blueprint for what an Alpha was supposed to feel when he met his destined mate?

Then again, Myron wasn’t like any omega he had ever encountered. He was not only physically strong and energetically intimidating but every word out of his mouth unseated Charles when he finally thought he’d found his place again.

Charles stood suddenly, backing away from Myron. If he didn’t get out of this situation, he was going to make a fool of himself and say something that he would regret. Even worse, it would be something that Myron didn’t want to hear and would certainly hate him for.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” Myron asked worriedly.

“I have a headache,” Charles answered. It was true and he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to come up with anything else. The only thing he was good at was thinking and Myron made it impossible.

“Another one?”

“Migraines.”

Myron stood. “Let me take you to the clinic.”

“I don’t need to go to the clinic.”

Myron was close. Far too close. Charles backed up, his back against the wall and the way the omega was looking at him left no doubt that his meltdown was just as obvious on the outside as it felt.

“Charles.” Myron’s voice was as commanding as it was concerned and when his hand rested on the Alpha’s neck, Charles shuddered. Why had he thought this would work? That he could not only keep the truth about the fact that he’d imprinted under wraps but that Myron would somehow fail to see how weak and defective he truly was? His brand was his mystery, and the second anyone scratched the surface, they were bound to be disappointed.

Understanding crossed the omega’s face, but he didn’t recoil the way Charles was sure he would. “Your scent.” Myron’s voice was husky and Charles thought it was anger before he met those green eyes.

Charles stood frozen as his world came crashing down around him. What the hell was happening? He didn’t even know what Myron was talking about. He couldn’t even make out his own scent, just the omega’s. Strong and so unlike the almost sickly sweet fragrance of every other omega he’d encountered. If it hadn’t been so pleasant, he might have thought it was another Alpha’s. It was stronger now, but it wasn’t the scent of an omega in heat. It was something else entirely, and it made his mouth water, but he was sure Myron would hate him for that, too.

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what’s happening.” They were the truest words he’d spoken all night.

“I think you’re in rut,” Myron murmured.

Charles’ eyes widened. “That’s not possible.” It had certainly never happened before. He’d always taken it as yet another sign that he was not an ordinary Alpha.

“No, you are,” Myron said confidently, seeming as confused by his statement as Charles was. “It’s weird. Usually, the scent bothers me.”

Charles wanted to blend into the wallpaper to escape his humiliation. “It doesn’t?”

Myron shook his head. His eyes lit with something Charles didn’t recognize, but his body was so close. Too close to think or guess or…

Myron’s lips. On his. Holy shit, this was happening. More impossibly, he was returning the kiss. Something else or someone else had taken over his body, because he didn’t have the presence of mind to breathe, let alone part his lips when Myron demanded it.

The omega’s hands tore his hair out of its elastic and burrowed into the dark veil, pushing him up against the wall and doing everything Charles was supposed to. Kissing and sweeping and groping and taking with his tongue, his hands, his groin pressed up against Charles’.

“Myron,” he groaned as the omega’s mouth pressed hot and wet to his neck, reminding him of yet another instinct that had been subverted at Myron’s touch. He should have been trying to claim the omega with a mating bite, not shuddering and shivering and relenting to the promises Myron’s body was making that he intended to place one of his own. “What are you doing?”

The omega froze with his hands on the wall, like the question had broken whatever spell had come over them both. When he finally pulled away and looked down at Charles, the Alpha could see the same confusion in his gaze. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Charles swallowed hard. It took everything he had, but he managed to say, “We should stop.”

Myron nodded slowly, stepping away from him.

Charles fled to his room without looking back and dropped against the door. Jesus… He closed his eyes and caught his breath.

What the hell was that? A cold shower and three sleepless hours of staring at the wall and replaying everything that had happened that night later, he still didn’t know.