Three years ago

“When you do decide to quit, I will personally find you a temporary position at a nearby company,” Fleming told me yet again as he shook my hand. “But you do have to put up with him for at least a month, Malcolm.”

“So you’ve said, sir.” I tried to keep the disdain from my voice, but I was sure he also needed me to prove I had the backbone of a true alpha. I disliked the self-important VP of human resources before I’d even met him. Although he was technically the man hiring me, our little interview had only been a formality.

This had been a position HouseHub desperately needed to fill, but my new boss had been the one to advertise the job throughout the national shifter community. I’d already passed a frightfully easy interview with a very pregnant young woman named Jenny. She’d already checked my references and spoken to my pack leader back in Montana, and only cared that I was willing to do what the position with her brother entailed.

The company was shifter-owned and it had some archaic guidelines for omegas, although they were all couched in wording about biology and maintaining secrecy. Generally, whenever an omega was hired, an alpha working in his department was given a pay raise and assigned to look after him.

Jenny hadn’t offered any explanation and I didn’t ask for specifics, but my boss had gone through three alphas and a beta since starting here two years ago. So now they had to hire an alpha —me— for the sole purpose of pretending to double-check my boss’ work, protecting his omega-ly virtue, and assisting him in any overflow programming he thought I could handle. In essence, this ‘personal assistant’ job was a paid internship. Sure, it was practically unheard of for an alpha to answer to anyone but another alpha, but this was a foot in the door with a very prestigious tech company and I was not going to pass it up. Unlike most alphas, I felt absolutely no aggressive drive to be a leader. Just give me a computer, snack food, and a problem to solve.

Jenny liked my attitude, and her brother Tobias liked my references. So I moved myself and my few worldly possessions into a very modest apartment on the wrong side of the Hudson River. Depressingly, most shifter-friendly buildings were a bridge away from Manhattan, because wolf-hybrid dogs weren’t legal in New York state and getting tranqed by Animal Control was extremely awkward. But this opportunity was worth losing my family’s respect by living in New Jersey and becoming ‘an omega’s bitch.’

“You’ll understand what I’m talking about as soon as you meet the little guy.” Fleming’s smile dripped with condescension and pity, but I could take whatever my new boss dished out. “If Tobias wasn’t so good at what he does, we wouldn’t put up with all this shit. I’m all for equal rights, but… well, you’ll see.”

The man clapped me on the back and I left to find my new boss. His office was empty, so I set my things down at the desk in front and dithered for a moment, unsure what to do… until an argument broke out. Perhaps those warnings weren’t so overblown as I’d assumed. I followed the angry voices to what looked to be a break room, where a human man waved a large kitchen knife at a bored-looking, reed-thin omega wolf shifter.

“Ivan, I am not going to apologize for pointing out your incompetence. You asked. I answered. End of story.” He noticed my entrance and his eyes telegraphed relief, though he didn’t move a muscle.

Unfortunately, that moment of distraction was one moment more than he could afford. The human lost his shit, coming one step closer and screaming, “My name’s Ian!”

One jerky wave of the idiot’s hand brought the knife slashing across my new boss’ arm. Ian and all accumulated gawkers stared in shock as blood immediately began to soak through his shirt.

I went into full-on protective alpha mode, pushing through the crowd, and possibly breaking the human’s wrist as I took the knife from his limp grip. Then I picked up the omega, carried him to his tiny office, kicked the door closed behind me, and set him in his chair. He immediately tried to get up and I growled a little and pushed him back down.

“You passed the test — you’re an alpha, alright. Even though I can barely smell you.” Tobias leaned forward and sniffed me more obviously. “Why are you wearing pheromone blocker?”

“Same reason you are.” Most people expected omegas to cover up so alphas can focus on their work, but alphas exuded just as many pheromones and it was my job to make it easier for him to focus. I pulled his arm away from his body so I could assess the damage and hissed at the deep gash. Thinking only of stopping the bleeding, I tore that entire sleeve off his shirt with one yank.

“Hey! There’s six hours left in the workday!”

“Once everyone sees how good you look like this, all the cool kids will be wearing their shirts this way,” I assured him as I tore the sleeve into pieces. He rolled his eyes, and with his free arm he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk to reveal a massive first aid kit. I sighed. “This happens a lot, hmm?”

He shrugged jerkily. “Your predecessor offered it as a parting gift when he quit. But I didn’t get shanked in an alley, so he wasn’t completely right.”

“I’ll do what I can to keep something like this from happening again. Your ad did ask for a tech-savvy alpha to be your bodyguard / personal assistant. I’ll take the bodyguard part seriously.” I squeezed his knee and pulled out my phone to document this incident properly, but he snatched it out of my hand.

“No! Bad alpha!” He pretended to try to bop my nose with it, and I took a deep breath. I’d be insulted by the doggie joke if I didn’t know he was a wolf, too.

“We’ve got to–”

“There are cameras everywhere and people saw it happen,” he argued far too logically for my piece of mind. “And you are not sending anything to my sister. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“The guy attacked you with a ten-inch knife. They need to take legal action.” But as we were talking, the bleeding had slowed and the edges were already healing up. Humans would expect a visit to the E.R., stitches, and a call to the police. “Fine, but we’re telling HR. Where did Ian get a knife anyway? Did he bring it into work with him?”

I opened the first aid kit, which looked like it was made to dress battle wounds. I set out supplies while he explained that the knife was in the breakroom to cut bagels, and that Ian didn’t deserve to be fired over an accident — he deserved to be fired because he was utterly incompetent.

I doubted he’d change how he talked to coworkers at this point, but I could probably convince him to let me handle his emails. Tonight, I was buying the breakroom one of those bagel cutter gadgets they make for kids and confiscating that knife. But right now, I had a patient to see to. I took the bottle on his desk and sniffed it. Water, unflavored.

“Eeew, you are not drinking my water!” He tried to take it from me, but I just ignored him and looked at the wound again. “Captain, are we going to have to set some boundaries?”

“Captain?” I poured the water into the handy dandy bottle in the kit and irrigated the cut. He sucked in a breath and I immediately wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. “Big baby.”

“Yes, Captain. If you haven’t seen Firefly, you need to. That’s your first homework assignment. I’ll loan you my DVDs and you’ll watch the show this weekend. All of it. You must get to know your namesake, Malcolm Reynolds.”

“It’s Reyes, not Reynolds.”

“Meh. Close enough.” He waved off my last name as unimportant, either to him or the conversation. I let him chatter on about some fifteen-year-old TV show about space cowboys while I bandaged his arm. I asked questions and mocked it, even though I’d already watched it a bajillion times and had an impressively realistic Capt. Mal Reynolds costume.

“There you go, Toto! All patched up.”

“Don’t call me Toto,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at me like a miffed pup.

“That’s what your sister called you.” Plus, I didn’t actually know Tobias’ last name. Jenny referred to him as ‘Toto,’ and the people in HR called him by his first name or That Damned Omega.

The phone rang and we both stared at it. In a slightly panicked voice, he commanded, “Assistant… Assist! If it’s my sister, tell her I’m in a meeting.”

“Any particular greeting you’d prefer?”

“Tobiassandersonsoffice?” He started bouncing in his seat in agitation, so I picked up the phone, feeling triumphant. Not only did I have a name, but I had a second movie reference to play with: Neo.

“Tobias Anderson’s office.”

“Oh you must be Malcolm! So nice to meet you! This is Candice Anderson, his mother, but please call me Candice.” The warmth of the greeting surprised me, but perhaps it shouldn’t have. Her daughter had also acted as if I’d been recruited into the Protect Toto Club. “How are you settling in? Is my son behaving himself?”

“Hi, Mrs. Anderson. It’s nice to meet you.” She sounded truly worried, as if I might already quit on the spot. And my omega looked terrified of what I’d tell his mother. Scratch that — my boss looked terrified. But the truth was so much less believable than fiction. “I’m settling in just fine. Pretty much what I expected. Broke up a knife fight. Couldn’t control my alpha urges and ripped his clothes off. Called each other names.” As expected, a trilling laugh greeted my tale. I mouthed to Tobias ‘She’s your mom, not your sister,’ and asked Candice, “Would you like to speak with him?”

He looked like he wanted to bop me on the nose again and call me a Bad Alpha.

“Yes, please.”

“Mr. Anderson, your mother’s on the phone,” I called, as though he wasn’t a foot away.

“Mr. Anderson?” For a split second, confusion clouded Tobias' amber eyes, but that could have been my imagination. “Umm… everyone just calls me Tobias. You should, too. Please.”

Tobias was a pretty, baby-faced omega and everyone talked about him like he was a bratty child. But I was fully aware that he was a couple of years older than me and a gifted programmer from whom I would learn a great deal. He deserved to be called Mr. Anderson. But that wasn’t what he wanted, so I nodded and handed him the receiver.

“If you don’t mind, Tobias, I’ll go settle some things with HR. I’ll lock your door so nobody disturbs you.”

He rolled his eyes, but nodded, understanding that I didn’t want him to answer the door to anyone while I was away. Because, yes, I was still in Protective Alpha mode.

“Hi Mom… He should call me Tobias… No, don’t you dare…”

Present

“Happy Birthday. Don’t be an asshole,” my boss read aloud and rolled his eyes. “Was that the entire message?”

I shook my head, because I refused to relate the rest of his sister’s message on general principle. Aside from that one incident the day we met, Tobias hadn’t needed physical protection. I just acted as a gatekeeper, a buffer between my boss and the world at large. For clients and coworkers, I softened the wording of his ‘you’re a moron I don’t have time for’ emails. With family, I simply chatted amiably and timed their messages so they didn’t interfere with a moment of inspiration. Tobias’ ‘social calls’ were the only uncomfortable aspect of the job, and luckily there hadn’t been one for several months now. I never encountered any alpha suitors until they dared request a second date. A couple of them took the rejection well. A few were incredibly rude. One cried. And another still called occasionally to see if Tobias had changed his mind. My main advantage in these situations was that none of them knew how to interact me.

I waited while Tobias read through the second message I’d handed him, from a hysterical programmer whose patch might occasionally cause the memory of a smart-home’s entire system to wipe itself clean. Tobias didn’t even work in the same division, but he was the guy everyone went to when they found themselves up shit creek. And this particular programmer was afraid of telling his own boss he’d screwed the pooch.

“How bad is it?”

I shrugged. I spent most of the afternoon looking it over, but I was just an assistant. “It’s messy at this point. He may have to find last week’s backup file and start from scratch.”

“You found the error, though?”

“Yeah, the conditional phrase in line 73, and then he wrote a metric shit ton of code to compensate.” My fingers itched to fix it myself.

He heaved a sigh. “You just couldn’t give me an excuse to miss dinner, could you? Fine! Shoot him an email telling him everything after 73 is garbage and he needs to re-enroll in Programming 101.”

I tried not to grin… this kind of thing was happening more and more lately. Tobias hadn’t used my assessment as helpful input, he didn’t double check it, and he didn’t feel the need to praise me. He just took my competence as a given and trusted me to troubleshoot a problem that had a full-time programmer in tears. It was one of the biggest compliments Tobias could give me.

Tobias finally noticed the sad, wilted sandwich on his desk. “Oh. I forgot to eat lunch again. What time is it?”

“It’s six-thirty.” This was the true bodyguard portion of my job — saving him from himself. Tobias always got caught up and forgot to eat or sleep. Even on the days he worked from home, I ordered lunch delivery for him. I wasn’t sure how he survived each weekend without wasting away. “Jenny mentioned your birthday dinner is at eight, so I was hoping we might be able to leave soon.”

He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat at ‘birthday dinner,’ but saved his files and shut down his computer. Whatever sort of party Jenny had planned for his birthday would probably be an exercise in patience, but he usually humored her. However, he stared at me as if there was something he was puzzling out. I waited.

“Wait. Do you… have plans?”

As a child, I once bumped into a teacher in the supermarket. I remember being shocked, as though he lived inside his classroom. Tobias seemed to be similarly surprised. Then again, we never talked about my personal life and I wasn’t sure I wanted to start doing so now — I was anxious enough as it was.

“Just meeting someone for dinner.” No big deal. Just a blind date with my True Mate and the future carrier of my children.

Several months ago, I read an article about an alpha-omega matchmaker that had a 95% success rate of connecting people with their True Mate. I knew True Mates were probably just an urban legend, but I was a closet romantic and I dreamed of finding a mate and building a home together. So I immediately contacted her and embarked upon a long, odd, semi-scientific process that seemed promising at the time. But I hadn’t heard a peep from her until a few days ago, when she called to inform me that she’d found someone that was perfect for me in every way. I just had to show up, be myself, and let the magic happen.

Satisfied with my non-shocking, generic explanation, Tobias stood and grabbed his coat. Before he could leave, I handed him his scarf, hat, and gloves. “Neo, please eat something before you ditch your birthday dinner.”

Tobias rolled his eyes, made a show of taking a bite of his sandwich and donning his winter-wear, and left.

Yes, he actually left.

I grabbed my coat and was about to ask Tobias to hold the elevator… but froze when a notification on my phone caught my eye. SynerTech, one of our competitors, actually had a job opening in their HomeApp division. I sat down and clicked the link to the description. It was perfect. Not a dream job, of course, but it was a permanent position doing something I’d definitely enjoy, with opportunities for advancement.

If I really did meet my mate tonight, I might need a better job with better pay. Part of me hoped my omega would want to work, but I was raised to accept that most omegas preferred to focus on their home and family, if for no other reason than because alpha-omega pairings were so very different from humans’ and betas’. We bred more closely to our animal counterparts, with fast pregnancies and, usually, multiple births that were very hard on the omegas’ otherwise-male bodies.

This job was definitely something to consider, and so I emailed a link to myself and to my friend Buzz. There was only one reason I’d never gotten around to applying for a better job: I’d leave Tobias stranded. Yes, he had survived without me before I started, but I would have to closely train any replacement we found. If we could find one. And he would need a backup plan in place.

At seven on the dot, I arrived at home and rushed to get ready. I shaved, showered thoroughly to ensure all my pheromone blockers washed away, toweled off, and pulled on the outfit I’d laid out for myself. It was what I wore whenever I had to dress nicely: khaki pants and a collared shirt that actually fit, as expensive as a week’s worth of my office-wear. When my phone rang, I made the mistake of answering it.

“Take that off and put on the navy V-neck sweater,” the man growled.

My eyes darted around the room. Buzz worked for a security company nearby, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have hidden camera somewhere after I told him about the matchmaker. Originally, he was a friend-with-benefits that was more friend than benefit, until we simply became close friends. In fact, Buzz was pretty much my one and only friend. Although human, he was a retired Delta Force soldier with high-level security clearance, so he knew all about my wolfy side before I even made the decision to confide in him.

“Isn’t the sweater too casual?” I asked.

“No.” He was a man of few words.

“He’s not wearing his pathetic Fancy Date outfit, is he? Gimme the phone.” Of course Buzz couldn’t wait until he was alone to call. His coworker looked like an omega, but he had the air of a true alpha. If, that is, he were a shifter. “Mal, don’t you dare wear that horrible uniform you call a date outfit!”

“Hi, Julian.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi Julian’ me — put on the sweater. I helped pick it out and it brings out your eyes. For the next date, you’ll let me take you shopping. You can afford a new wardrobe,” he insisted.

“If he’s my soulmate, he should take me as I am.”

“You’re twenty-five years old and you should look like it. You can be his soulmate without dressing like a teenager,” he snapped. Julian was right, of course. I wanted to look like I actually put in some effort to look nice for the man.

“I’ll wear the sweater,” I conceded. “But it’s your fault if he hates it.”

I heard a tussle before Buzz wrested the phone back. “Did you send your resume to SynerTech yet?”

“Not yet. Sent it to you as soon as I saw the listing.”

“Apply,” he growled.

“Sure. This weekend. Maybe.” I couldn’t concentrate enough to explain my resume was three years out-of-date. “Ugh. Really? This sweater? You’re sure you’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Just have fun and be yourself!” Julian shouted into the phone despite being completely aware of my enhanced shifter hearing.

“Sure. Be myself. No problem.” Which kind of myself should I be, exactly? The tech geek? The alpha who was more beta than alpha? The lone wolf who only made the bare minimum effort necessary to be a member of the local pack?

“Good,” Buzz said and ended the call, as though he hadn’t heard the sarcasm and barely-leashed anxiety in my voice.

I couldn’t exactly call any family member for anxiety support or to ask about my clothing. As one of five boys, I easily faded into the background and was assumed to be beta, with my quiet bookish nature. I was happy being a beta and all that entailed. But when I hit adolescence and presented as alpha, I went from being unnoticed to being the target of pity or scorn — I did not fit the mould of what an alpha ought to be.

I knew any future mate who truly suited me would not be the sort of omega they’d understand or accept. Which was why I’d moved all the way from Montana to New York. People were more open-minded here. And one day, when I found my mate, we could build our own family.

So without further guidance, I changed into the sweater. This outfit was probably a mistake, but what did I know? Until meeting Buzz (and Julian), I only really had TV shows and rancher fashionistas as my guide.

I checked the clock and swore. Luckily, I didn’t require much primping. My hair was buzzed short enough that I didn’t have to worry about styling it. If there was traffic, I risked being barely on-time or even a few minutes late, and I didn’t want to give the impression that my date didn’t matter. I grabbed my keys, phone, and wallet and ran out the door.

I arrived early, thank goodness. I didn’t know my date’s first name or what he looked like, but I did know this casual-chic restaurant was his choice. And it was a really great choice… the place smelled amazing and I felt relatively comfortable here.

“I have a reservation for two, under the name Sanderson?” I told the hostess, irritated with myself that it came out as a question rather than a statement. I was an alpha. Tonight I had to be an alpha. Or at least, an alpha version of myself.

I smelled him approach before I heard him, a gust of night air blowing his delicious scent toward me. My heart skipped a beat, my skin prickled, and my wolf’s agitation immediately calmed. His warm hand touched my back, and I turned to greet…

Tobias.