If someone had told Myron that his libido was going to get him in trouble eventually, he wouldn’t have been surprised in the least. He would’ve never imagined it would be his boss. Especially not an Alpha. Especially not the only Alpha who had ever come remotely close to getting into his pants and had not only shut things down so fast that Myron still had blue balls four days later.

If Myron ever could have foreseen having a momentary lapse in judgment and becoming romantically involved with an Alpha, he would have thought that he’d at least be the one who went missing after. It was Charles’ fucking apartment and they were still supposed to leave on a plane to Berlin later that night, yet Myron hadn’t seen the Alpha since their encounter. He’d finally managed to get Andy to talk to him long enough to confirm that Charles had, in fact, been seen alive as recently as that morning. Otherwise, he would’ve been tempted to break down the Alpha’s damn door just to make sure he was alright.

Myron wasn’t even sure he was alright after what had happened, but he needed to know where Charles was before he figured it out. It made no sense. He’d been around plenty of Alphas in rut, and it had always been an unpleasant experience. He’d never come close to being aroused the way he had that night, even if his response was far from what it should have been.

If Charles hadn’t put a stop to it, Myron still wasn’t sure how far it would have gone or what he would have done. All he knew was that he could still taste the Alpha’s skin on his lips and he had longed to mark Inara for long enough that he recognized that impulse, even if it seemed foreign in the context of an Alpha. The most baffling part of it all was that he got the feeling Charles was going to let him, before he came to his senses.

That night, Myron intended to get his answer whether they were still going to Berlin or not. He parked himself on the couch and tapped his foot in anticipation as he waited for Charles to show up. He wasn’t going to give him the chance to slip into his room unseen this time.

The moment the Alpha appeared at the door, the look on his face made it clear that had been the plan. His dark circles were more pronounced than usual, and all Myron’s irritation became worry when he saw how sick Charles looked.

“Where were you?” he demanded, standing.

“What do you mean?” Charles’ tone was innocent, but his posture suggested guilt.

“Don’t bullshit me. You’ve been avoiding me for the last four days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Myron stalked across the room and Charles looked like a deer in the road. Myron almost felt bad, but despite the bizarre way his body responded to Charles, the guy was still an Alpha and the more he reminded himself of that, the easier it would be to put a stop to whatever this was. “We live together. Have you even been home since that happened?”

Charles looked away and he wouldn’t answer. It was unusual for an Alpha to look away from such a challenge from anyone, let alone an omega. Some would die before they’d give anyone the upper hand, even if it was only in terms of body language. The very thing that made Charles so unique among his own kind was the thing that made him more dangerous than any of them.

“Talk to me,” Myron growled. He’d always had his father’s temper, and he hated himself for it. It was by far the lowest on a long list of his least favorite personality traits, but it hadn’t changed in thirty-four years, so why would it now?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Charles snapped. “We have a flight to catch, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Myron worked his jaw, forcing himself to calm down because something told him that Alpha or no, he was going to regret losing his temper on Charles. “When is the summit?”

“It begins tonight at eight,” Charles muttered, still refusing to look at him.

“And how long is the flight?”

The Alpha finally looked up, confused. “Two hours, give or take.”

“Good. That’s two hours for you to read the final version of the script and make changes,” Myron said, grabbing the bag he’d packed just in case they were still going. “When we land, I’m going to deliver your speech as planned, but when we get back to the hotel, you and me are gonna talk so get your shit together.”

With that, he left the Alpha and took his own cab to the airport.

* * *

The conference hall was packed to the point where Myron hoped the fire marshal wasn’t in the neighborhood, and as he stared out at all those somber faces ready to judge him for the slightest slip up, he understood why Charles avoided this shit at all costs. None of Avery’s coaching could have prepared him for what it was like to be up at that podium. Charles hadn’t made any changes to his speech on the flight, but Myron couldn’t tell if that was because it was perfect or just because the Alpha was still avoiding him, so he didn’t exactly feel prepared.

At least most of the people in the room were Alphas, and he hated nearly all of them too much to really give a shit about what they thought beyond not wanting to make Charles look bad. He still cared about that, much to his chagrin, even though the Alpha was kind of being a dick.

The worst part was, him being a dick wasn’t even making it easier for Myron to remind himself that he wasn’t attracted to Alphas. Charles’ strange behavior just had him more worried than ever.

“Thank you,” Myron said once the announcer had finished giving him his intro. “And to those of you who are used to seeing my brother-in-law up here, I can only apologize and assure you that the omegas you’re going to be matched with look a hell of a lot more like him than me.”

The self-critical joke earned a good laugh and seemed to cut the tension in the room. Myron would’ve felt a little better if he could have at least seen Charles, but the Alpha had disappeared the moment they’d entered the venue and Myron could only assume he was listening somewhere backstage, so he decided he was just going to have to trust his gut. “Now, in the short time I’ve been with the Initiative, I have to say that I’ve been incredibly impressed with the dedication of all its executive and staff members who —”

“Are the rumors true or not?” an impatient Alpha bellowed from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. “Did you really have a breakthrough on the Renaissance Project?”

So much for keeping this calm. Myron would have invited the prick up onstage to have a go if there hadn’t been cameras everywhere and members of the Federation and Alliance press recording everything he was saying.

“Someone’s in a hurry to get back and watch his pay-per-view movies,” he taunted, eliciting another laugh from the crowd at the heckler’s expense. Whoever it was didn’t dare to open his mouth again. “To dispense with the formalities and answer our eager friend’s question, yes, Project Renaissance is well ahead of schedule. According to our research team, we will be ready to proceed with human trials by the end of the calendar year.”

The room erupted with chatter and Myron hoped he didn’t look as pissed as he was. There went the fucking intro he’d spent a whole morning hammering out. Pricks. Charles owed him for this, and he was gonna get an answer if nothing else. All of a sudden, he was starting to think the pay wasn’t enough.

The flashbulbs and the excited babbling were giving him a migraine, so he focused on a reporter he actually recognized near the front of the crowd and waved to get her attention. “One question at a time, starting with the Federation Tribune,” he said.

“The project is already incredibly controversial, as I’m sure you’re aware,” the woman said in a heavy French accent. “How is the organization planning on addressing the moral concerns about human rights?”

“Well, for one thing, we’re cloning shifters, not humans.” Myron winced when his joke hit flat. Tough crowd. Charles had coached him on answering this question, but it was hard to read his notes in the blinding stage lights and the crowd was getting antsy. He tugged anxiously at his collar. “We’re uh, working with an independent commission from the Tribunal to—“

“What about the accusations that Charles Metcalf is an out-of-control psychopath?” another reporter demanded. Myron recognized her, too. She was one of the jerks who’d set up camp outside their pack so she could harass his family in hopes of an interview after Nicholas’ former abuser had been arrested on unrelated charges. Even if he didn’t already hate her for that, her question itself rubbed him the wrong way.

“What about the accusations that your newspaper is a glorified tabloid with predatory paparazzi masquerading as journalists?”

She stared at him in shock and seemed like she was going to make an equally abrasive retort, but the crowd drowned her out. Myron pointed to the next journalist, one who’d actually waited her turn. “Alliance Journal, go.”

“Alpha Jaspar Amari and his advisory council have expressed similar concerns about the potential ethical ramifications of this previously theoretical technology,” she said in a far more diplomatic version of the same question. “How is the Futurus Initiative going to address the fact that placing such technology exclusively in the hands of the Federation is going to increase tensions between our regions?”

Shit. Now he was wishing he’d paid more attention in history instead of staring at the teacher’s ass. “Great question,” he said, rubbing his hands together to give himself a minute. What was it Avery had said about stalling? Something about answering by rephrasing whatever question you’d been asked into the form of another question. He cleared his throat. “This is one the Futurus Initiative has been deeply considering for quite some time. And really, how are we going to address these increased tensions between our regions? This is certainly not the first issue that’s come up since the ceasefire, but it does present us with the opportunity to exercise our diplomatic relations to find a solution that works for everyone.”

The Journal reporter blinked and scribbled something down. No one was swarming the stage yet, so he took that as a good sign. While he had them going, he had to think on his feet. “Okay, so that brings us to the bigger picture. Why are we doing this in the first place? I mean…cloning. That sounds crazy, right?”

More blank stares. He tried to remember what Charles had told him since he was blanking on the speech he’d written. “The truth is, it is crazy. So was the idea of starting another breeding program when every instance of that has worked out disastrously in the past. Futurus kind of corners the market on crazy,” he said, leaning on the podium and trying not to look as horrified as he was that he’d used the dreaded “BP” phrase. The one thing Charles had told him to avoid saying at all costs. Matchmaking program sounded so much better for branding purposes.

The headlines in the morning were going to be a disaster and Charles was probably going to kill him, but what the hell? He was already in deep, so he figured he might as well go the rest of the way. “Nonetheless, look at the evidence. Ever since Mr. Metcalf took over the Initiative, participant satisfaction has been at the highest levels since inception. Despite constant attacks from the opposition, our birth rates have reached replacement levels for the first time in over a decade. It’s crazy, sure, but in a world gone mad, it takes crazy to right the ship.”

He was mixing metaphors, but they seemed to be eating it up, so he continued. “Is Project Renaissance ambitious? Sure. Are there going to be issues we have to work out along the way? Absolutely. But if we had listened to the opposition and stopped the breeding—er, I mean the matchmaking program when everyone said we should, our species would be dying instead of thriving. Rather than letting the criticism stop us, we brought those ideas on board and allowed them to make Futurus better not just for its participants but for all of us. Project Renaissance is the same,” he said, stepping out from behind the podium to address the crowd directly.

“Now, you can question our CEO all you want, but my challenge is to actually consider the promise instead of just cowering from the potential pitfalls. We all know that traditional IVF treatments just don’t work as well for shifters as they do for humans. In this early stage of clinical trials, we’ve already had success with cloning viable embryos and dramatically increasing the rate of multiple live births. That alone could mean the end of our population crisis in the next five to ten years, but what if we could achieve even more?”

The crowd’s confused murmurs told him this was yet another point Charles hadn’t had time to ease the media into. “You’re all picturing designer babies and that’s all well and good, but let me challenge you to expand your perspective a little. We’ve all lost people in the war. We’re a generation living with ghosts. Parents. Siblings. Children. Our closest friends. Ancestors who left us before they could see us live up to their dreams and lives cut down before they could reach their full potential. I’m not saying we’re there yet, but imagine if we could one day use this technology to bring back the best parts of the past that we’ve lost.”

“Are you talking about raising the dead?” a reporter demanded, sounding as horrified as those around him were mesmerized.

“I think I am,” Myron said, cringing on the inside. “And really, is that such a bad thing? Time is a commodity and we’ve all wished we had more of it to share with the people in our lives. To learn from their wisdom, to help lead us into a brighter future. The future we would have if we hadn’t let this conflict divide us for so long. Maybe it would even unite us.”

The crowd was silent for once, and Myron knew he was either going to get a standing ovation or else be chased off stage. “I know a lot of this is still theoretical, but for the first time in a long time, our future as a species is promising. Imagine what it would look like if we could bring back the men and women who got us where we are. If Keri Sulaman’s life-saving research wasn’t cut short in its prime by warfare. If leaders like Mitchell Teak and Anastasia Smith were still here with us, can you imagine what our world would be like? If we’ve found a way to successfully clone embryos and closed the loophole that makes traditional IVF difficult for shifters, who’s to say we can’t bring these legacies back? We already have the technology. We just need to find a way to implement it.” He thought back to Charles’ brainstorming notes. He barely understood them, but he was on a roll now and not about to stop. “We’ve all seen sci-fi movies where a hero’s consciousness is transferred into another body. If we can clone the bodies so everything’s the same all the way down to the very last brain cell, who’s to say we can’t do the very same thing? We’re on the cusp of progress now. What if we’d stopped the Internet from coming into existence because there were some drawbacks? Where would we be now?”

The murmurs seemed to be leaning in a positive direction, for the most part, and Myron decided to wrap things up on a winning note. “The future is going to be full of moral dilemmas and ethical questions, but we won’t have a future at all if we’re afraid to innovate and we shun the minds who push ours to expand. I, for one, am excited to see where this goes. I hope you’ll all join us for the Q&A session tomorrow, thank you and goodnight,” he said, never more relieved to see two Alphas than the security guards who came to lead him offstage before the press could descend.

All he’d wanted was a beer while he was up there, but all they had backstage was water and he downed about a quart of it before feeling satisfied.

“Not bad out there,” Andy remarked. The omega was holding a clipboard with what Myron assumed was Charles’ itinerary, even though the CEO was nowhere to be found. “You had me worried when you went after that reporter and brought up research Charles hasn’t even brought to the board yet, but… I think you pulled it back.”

“Yeah?” Myron asked hopefully.

“Charles’ll have your hide for sharing that much information, though.” The other omega smirked. “Your funeral, I guess. We could always clone you first.”

Myron groaned. At least it was good to see that Andy was actually talking to him again. For a while, the other omega had looked like he wanted to stab Myron every time he asked for a copy. He couldn’t believe they were finally alone again and all he could think about was Charles. “Any idea where our boss is?”

“He never sticks around for these things,” Andy said, clearly disappointed by the change in subject. “He just has me send the live stream to his phone.”

“Seriously?” Myron muttered. “I went out there defending his ideas from the mob and he’s in his hotel room sipping wine?”

“Probably seltzer,” Andy quipped, busy with his phone. “You’ve been here long enough to know he’s weird.”

Myron grunted. Weird was one thing. Charles was downright eccentric.

“Wait,” Andy called.

When Myron looked up, the other omega had actually stopped staring at his phone. Before he spoke, Myron knew what that look in his eyes meant. “Yeah?”

“Since you survived your first trial by fire, you wanna grab a drink? We could go back to my room after…”

Well, that was pretty clear. What wasn’t clear to Myron was who the hell had taken over his body, because if he was himself, there was no way that was an offer he would have refused. “That’s a tempting offer,” he said with a pained smile as he realized he was far more interested in going upstairs to finish the fight he’d picked with the Alpha than he was in losing himself in a gorgeous omega’s body for the night. “But I should probably go find out if I still have a job.”

Andy shrugged, looking back at his screen. “Rain check, then.”

“Yeah.” Myron left before he could completely humiliate himself. He wasn’t even sure why he was embarrassed. It wasn’t like anyone knew he’d kissed Charles. The Alpha certainly hadn’t told anyone. He’d shut down and gone under a rock like it was the most shameful thing he’d ever done, and Myron was even more confused by the fact that the very reaction he should have been having stung so bad.

Growing up, the thing that had irritated Myron the most wasn’t actually being an omega. Save for the odd heat, which didn’t have nearly the same distressing effect on him it seemed to have on other omegas, it just wasn’t something he’d ever thought about much. It was the way that everyone else treated him. His little brother acting like he was the one who needed to be protected. His mother saying things like, “You’ll see when you meet the right Alpha. You’ll change.”

Well, after the night he’d spent with Charles, he was afraid he had met “the right Alpha,” but it hadn’t changed him the way everyone promised it would. If he’d felt himself in danger of falling all over Charles and acting like a typical omega in heat, it would have been easier to deal with. He would have quite the job, left London and never looked back, because as much as he enjoyed having submissive, lusty omegas in his bed, that was not something he ever wanted to be.

The one good thing about Charles refusing to talk to him was that Myron had had a week to analyze his side of things, and Myron realized he hadn’t responded to his boss like an omega responded to an Alpha at all. The feelings that had stirred in him that night were all too familiar, but it just wasn’t possible. Charles wasn’t an omega. He wasn’t even a beta. He was an Alpha, albeit a strange one, and Myron wanted him in ways that he just couldn’t come to terms with.

But he couldn’t accept Charles pretending like he didn’t exist, either, and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it. He made it to the floor of the hotel that Futurus had booked for its staff for the duration of the summit and blew past Charles’ security guard after flashing his badge. He pounded on the door to the Alpha’s room and waited for Charles to answer. When he didn’t, Myron’s tolerance tank went from half-full to empty. He rammed his shoulder into the door and it swung open, colliding with the wall on the other side.

Charles was in the living room, curled up on the couch and bundled in a blanket like a burrito avoiding his responsibilities. Myron was struggling to be more pissed than he was relieved that the Alpha was okay. The security guard caught up with him before he could take a step into the room and Charles tripped over the blanket trying to get up.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Alpha guard snarled. Myron had never shied away from a fight with Alphas, and delighted in kicking their asses when the occasion called for it, but this one looked like he ate nails for the iron content.

“It’s alright,” Charles said, even paler than he usually was. Myron just couldn’t tell if that was because he was shocked by the intrusion or still sick. “I’ll handle it.”

The guard looked at him doubtfully, but he finally grunted and stormed off to his post.

“What the hell are you doing?” Charles echoed as soon as he was gone, moving the door on its hinge. “I think you broke it.”

“Take it out of my check,” Myron scoffed, walking into the room. “So this is where you hole up and watch other people do your dirty work from a distance.”

Charles was frowning when Myron turned around, his arms folded over his robe. He stayed by the door, like he was afraid to get too close. “You knew what the job was when you took it.”

“So what, were you just gonna email me a performance report?” Myron taunted, walking closer. When Charles sank back into the door, he almost felt bad, but he was too intrigued by the way the untouchable Alpha responded to him to play nice.

“Maybe I was,” Charles muttered, hugging himself tighter. The robe was hanging off his shoulder a little, revealing the scoop of his neck and too much of his collarbone. Of course he hadn’t been taking care of himself. That was what pissed Myron off the most about his disappearing act.

“Well, I’m gonna need a little more in-person feedback,” Myron said firmly, coming toe to toe with the Alpha. “So how about you give it to me right here?”

Charles’ eyes widened. Even Myron wasn’t sure if he was still talking about the speech. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to be another person Charles could push away with his money and his power and his fucking security lunks.

“The speech was fine,” Charles said tersely.

“Fine?” Myron sneered, moving closer. The door shifted from Charles’ attempt to fade into it.

“It was good,” Charles muttered. “Aside from you attacking that reporter from the Tribune and divulging far too much about research that is purely speculative, you handled it perfectly.”

“I lost my temper,” Myron admitted. He knew why, too. Only he could talk shit about his eccentric boss. Anyone else opened their mouth and he was ready to kill.

Charles frowned. “It doesn’t bother you being out there? You don’t find it…terrifying?”

“Nah. I mean, reporters piss me off in general, so I kind of enjoy taking the piss out of ‘em, as you’d put it.”

“I would say no such thing,” Charles huffed.

“No,” Myron agreed. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve heard you use a crude word since we met. Is that why you don’t do your own press? You’re afraid they’ll realize you’re a mushy nerd who’d rather be hiding in a lab than stand in the spotlight for one second?”

“Mushy?” Charles grumbled. Myron only noticed his hands had moved to the Alpha’s hips when Charles’ gaze traveled down. He just wasn’t sure he cared enough to move them.

“You know, I came up here to ream you out.”

Charles’ brow lifted. “You’re not doing that already?”

“Trust me, if I was, you’d know,” he said, stroking the black strands of hair out of the Alpha’s face. It was as soft as he recalled, and the touch was giving his imagination too much leeway. Images of having Charles bent over the back of that couch, his hair sweeping the cushions as he tried to smother his pleasured moans…

“What’s wrong with you?” Charles asked, frowning.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” When Charles looked even more confused, Myron decided to change the subject. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

The Alpha pursed his lips. “I told you, I’ve —“

“You’ve been busy, yeah, I know.” Myron turned away, needing to put some distance between him and Charles so he could at least think about the next foolish move he made.

“It’s the truth.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” The shock on the Alpha’s face made it clear that, although he shied away from conflict, he wasn’t used to being called out by the people around him. “I kissed you. You kissed back. Like it or not, we need to talk about it.”

“What is there to talk about? I had a lapse in judgment, and you kiss everyone.”

Myron’s growl of frustration made Charles jolt. “I know a lapse in judgment. I’ve been one for enough people to know what that feels like, and what happened between us that night was more. And yeah, I’m a manwhore and proud of it, but not with Alphas. I’ve never felt the way I feel toward you for anyone who wasn’t an omega, and I wanna know why. You’re different, and I have to know why.”

“And if you don’t like the answer?” Charles asked. His words were meant as a challenge, but Myron could sense the fragility behind them.

“I don’t believe in running from shit I don’t like,” he muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Just say it, Charles.”

“Say what?”

“You imprinted, didn’t you?” It had occurred to Myron in passing, but this was the first time he was actually letting himself sincerely consider the possibility. It made more sense when he said it out loud than he wanted to admit, but it didn’t horrify him the way it should have, either.

Charles didn’t answer him immediately. At first, Myron thought he was as put off by the idea as the omega wanted to be, but then he realized Charles was afraid. He could smell the other man’s fear and the urge to comfort and console him was both confusing and overpowering his need to demand the truth.

“Charles,” Myron said, finding himself next to the Alpha again, pulling him into his arms. “Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Something. You didn’t think that was something I needed to know?”

“Of course not.” He sounded so sure of himself, for once. “Why would you? I know what you want, and I’m not it. I’m not an omega, and I’m not even a passable Alpha. The only thing that could have possibly come from me telling you was becoming a burden you were saddled with and making this arrangement even more unbearable for you than it already is.”

“Unbearable?” Myron stared at him in shock. “Is that really how you think I see you?”

“Isn’t it?”

Myron groaned, reaching new depths of self-loathing. Why did he have to be this way?

“Listen. There’s something important you have to understand about me,” Myron said firmly, taking Charles’ face in his hands. “I’m only going to say this once, so I need you to pay attention.”

Charles’ blue eyes were still full of doubt, but he nodded.

“I,” Myron began gravely, “am an enormous asshole. It’s true, ask anyone in my family. I treat the people who matter like shit, and I obsess over the ones who don’t give a shit about me. I’m not saying I’m okay with this, or that there’s not gonna be a whole lot of binge drinking before I reach a point resembling acceptance, but you are one of the people who matter, Charles.”

As Charles listened, Myron felt his guard slip down. “I am?” The doubt in his voice made the last of Myron’s pride and resistance take a backseat to this thing that had been troubling him ever since they’d met. At least now he had a word for it.

He pulled Charles into his arms and squeezed as hard as he could without feeling like the Alpha was going to snap. “Yes. God, yes. You wouldn’t piss me off this much if you weren’t.”

Charles’ laugh was stifled in his collar. Myron stroked the back of his head, the clean scent of his hair products wafting up and making him want to breathe deeper, filling his lungs with that other subtler scent that was so unlike an Alpha’s musk and yet undeniably unique to Charles. It had the same addicting effect on Myron as an omega in heat, and he found himself burying his face in Charles’ hair just to have more of it.

“Myron…” The Alpha pushed him away, meeting his eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Me either,” Myron said in a gruff tone. It was a lie. He knew exactly what he wanted from Charles, at least for the night. The way the Alpha responded when he slipped his hands underneath his shirt and stroked his smooth skin made him wonder if their desires were really as mismatched as he feared. “But I think I’d like to take you to bed. You good with that?”

Charles stared at him, his eyes growing impossibly wide. When he finally spoke, his voice was husky enough to make Myron ready to throw class and station out the window. “Yes,” Charles answered, and that was it. Alpha or not, Myron had never lusted after anyone with such intensity and now that Charles had given him permission, he wasn’t going to give up until every question was answered and every curious need they were both wrestling with was satisfied.