Second Chance: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance Read online

  He sat down in front of his television, which didn't work since the cable wouldn't be hooked up for another week thanks to a screw-up on their end, and sipped at his coffee. He was ready for San Diego to become amazing already. Everyone had told him how fabulous it was out here. Sunny all the time, they said. Never too hot, they said. Everyone's nice, they said. Well, he hadn't gotten out of the apartment except to go to the twenty-four hour supermarket, and he didn't know if the people at Ralph's were nice or not because he didn't talk to the people he found at supermarkets at two in the morning.

  He was the people he found at supermarkets at two in the morning. Oh God.

  He pushed the negative thoughts away. That was temporary. Ben had a job. He'd been continuously employed ever since he'd graduated high school, first as an apprentice and then in his own right. He was a damn fine mechanic now; he could work both on heavy machinery and on diesel engines in general. He could pretty much write his own ticket. That was how he wound up out here in San Diego. He wasn't some kind of weirdo, shopping at two in the morning because he'd lost track of time on drugs and binge-watching bee documentaries on Netflix. He was a productive member of society, damn it.

  He'd made good progress getting the living room set up and the kitchen unpacked. Today he'd focus on the bedroom, and maybe he'd do some real food shopping too. Maybe he'd even get out and see this fabulous city, see what this Gaslamp Quarter was all about. He lived right in it, and it had a gay club that was supposed to be just awesome for alphas and omegas even if folks like Ben weren't their target market.

  He wandered over to the window and looked out. There was the Running Guy again. Damn, but he was hot. Ben didn't usually go for someone who looked quite so "hipster," but Running Guy didn't lean too far in that direction. He had this brown hair that he caught up in a man-bun thing behind his head, Ben usually hated those but on Running Guy it looked good. It showed off those sun-bleached streaks, too. He'd have thought the guy was blond if it weren't for that dark underside of his hair, and the dark, neatly trimmed beard. He had a few tattoos, all in black. They looked Celtic, or maybe Norse. Ben wasn't an expert, but he'd dated a guy back in Florida who was into that stuff. Running Guy wasn't packed with muscle, not like an alpha, but he was wiry and looked strong and firm. Ben could have washed his clothes on the guy's abs; he could see those from the window.

  What were the odds that Running Guy was gay? Ben wasn't going to dare to hope that the guy was an omega. That was just too much, but he'd take a gay beta. Or a bisexual beta. Just a beta who was interested in guys.

  Whatever. He still needed to settle in and find his way around town. Maybe all San Diego guys looked like that. Maybe he, too, would grow his hair into a man-bun, get a bunch of tattoos, and develop abs of steel. Maybe it was something they put in the water out here.

  He laughed at himself and went to go change and start his day. Now he got why they called it California Dreaming.

  He set to work. Setting up a bedstead by himself was hard work, and took longer than he wanted. He heard the water run in the other apartment, telling him that it must be sometime around seven-thirty. Good Lord, what was he doing up? He didn't start at the new job until Monday, for crying out loud. Why was he awake? Oh, right. He was still sort of on East Coast time, and he'd fallen out of bed like a buffoon.

  He worked on the bed for a little while longer, but after three minutes the water shut off again. He had to admit that he was curious. He'd only heard noise on the other side of the wall when the guy had come home at something like eight thirty. After that, there hadn't been anything, and that just didn't seem right. There was no television, no music, no loud subwoofer from a video game, nothing. Who lived like that? Maybe Ben shouldn't judge. Maybe the guy had just had a long day. Maybe he was sick. He could be anything. Ben was still allowed to be curious, wasn't he?

  He heard the sound of drawers closing and a closet closing, and then more movement. The guy didn't waste any time, did he?

  Ben should ignore him. If the guy wanted to meet, he'd come and knock on the door, be social or something. He was obviously in a hurry. The thing was, though, Ben was lonely. Ben was a social creature, and he hadn't exchanged many words with anyone in days beyond, "Pass the hot sauce," or, "Fill it up with regular." He was curious. Was his neighbor clean or should he invest in a bunch of roach motels? Was he old or young? Was he someone from whom Ben could at least borrow a cup of sugar now and then, or was he secretly a serial killer?

  He stuck his head out the door, just as Neighbor Guy's door creaked open.

  Three facts clicked home for Ben when he caught sight of his neighbor. The first was that Neighbor Guy, who ran more silently than a sub in enemy waters, was the super-hot Running Guy who had made his mornings worthwhile for the past two days. He'd know that blond-and-brown hair anywhere, even if the perfectly formed torso and the tattoos were covered by a red-and-white checked button-down. This close, of course, Ben could see the little ring in his lip and the electric blue of his eyes.

  The second fact that Ben picked up on was that Running Guy was an omega. He wasn't just an omega; he might have been the sweetest-scented omega in the history of time. He smelled like strawberries, warming in the summer sun, and it took everything in Ben not to step out into the hallway and taste.

  The third fact was that Running Guy knew him. This became apparent when Running Guy jumped at the sight of Ben. His incredible, mesmerizing blue eyes widened for a moment, and then he sniffed. What might have been attraction turned into disgust. "Oh for crying out loud," he said, a scowl marring his beautiful face. "Ben Maxwell? Seriously?" He looked down at his watch. "I so don't have time for this." He turned around, briefcase swinging, and stormed down toward the stairs. He flipped Ben off as he left.

  Ben gaped after him. He'd never been with that omega before. He'd remember that body. He'd remember that scent. Good God, that scent would never leave him. He'd never been with Running Guy, but it was obvious that Running Guy knew who he was. He couldn't chalk it up to mistaken identity; he'd called Ben by name.

  Ben stepped back into his apartment and stared at his living room, well assembled but more or less useless. His eyes fell on his keys. He could chase after Running Guy, but Running Guy was a runner and could probably get away without a problem. And, of course, that would be creepy. There might be another way, though.

  He grabbed his keys, not wanting to lock himself out on his second day in the new digs, and headed out to the front vestibule. Every mailbox had the residents' names on the mailboxes. He hadn't taken much notice of the other apartments' mailboxes, except to make sure that his mailbox had his name on it. Now, though, he sought out the box for apartment 21.

  There, in very thin Sharpie on white paper, was the name. T. OSTRY. It wasn't like Ostry was a common name. He'd never met anyone outside of Sandusky with that name, and he didn't think that he was making too big of an assumption when he said that it had to be the same guy. The neighbor was an omega, with the right last name and first initial, in the right age range, and now that he thought about it those eyes hadn't been quite as vibrant back then but they'd certainly been distinctive.

  Back then, the beard would have been impossible. Tyler Ostry had been a skinny, miserable-looking kid of fourteen, with zits and a voice that was still cracking. The poor kid's entire body had been shaking, and it hadn't been with desire.

  Ben dragged himself back up the stairs. What kind of dumb luck would have brought him back into Tyler Ostry's life, or Tyler into his? They'd met once. It had been a disaster. He'd never seen Tyler again, not even around school, but the kid had been a freshman when he'd been a senior. He'd never noticed Tyler around school before their apparently well-meaning parents had tried to force Ben to claim Tyler.

  Ben sagged down onto his recliner, bed forgotten. He'd done the right thing, of course. Tyler had been too young for a claim. He hadn't wanted to be there. Someone had just stripped him and shoved him into a room. When they'd ushered Ben in, Tyler
had been shaking in a corner, trying to cover himself with his hands. Maybe some other alphas might have done the deed, but Ben could see that the kid wasn't into it. Maybe Tyler wasn't able to get into it yet, who knew? He definitely wasn't giving off any kind of omega scent yet, and if he wasn't giving off a scent then he wasn't old enough to get claimed.

  Why would Tyler be upset by that?

  If scent — and the size of these apartments — were anything to go by, Tyler was still unclaimed. That was surprising, because damn the guy had grown up to be hot. He couldn't imagine the Ostrys letting their son leave Sandusky without an alpha, though. Most parents of omegas in that area didn't let their omega children leave home until they were safely claimed. It was just considered to be better that way.

  Of course, there was no double standard at work. Alpha children weren't considered safe until they had claimed an omega, any more than an omega could be safely allowed out until they'd been claimed. All of that unrestrained sexuality ran the risk of embarrassing the family, or creating a string of bastards a mile long, or just tearing at the fabric of Ohio society without locking people together while they were still young enough to grow into one another.

  When Ben had refused, he'd scandalized the town. He hadn't meant to. Of course he'd gone in willingly. He didn't have a problem with claiming an omega, even if he felt bad for the poor omega. He didn't have a problem with letting his parents choose for him. He didn't have a problem, that was, until he walked into that room and saw that kid shivering in a corner.

  If his parents had chosen someone old enough to be on board, he probably wouldn't have raised a fuss. If the omega had been willing, he might have gone along with it. Ben had looked at Tyler, and any and all desire had flooded right out of him then and there. He knew he couldn't claim a guy like this. He hadn't even finished high school yet. How was he supposed to support an omega, and probably kids too? Never mind a traumatized omega younger than Ben's younger sister.

  He'd grown apart from his family then, and they'd made it clear that once he was done with school they were done with supporting him. He'd told them that was fine by him; if they wanted to go on pushing their children to force themselves on other children, he wanted no part of it.

  He hadn't heard from his mother for a long time after that.

  Obviously something had gone wrong with Tyler, if he was here in San Diego and not at home in Sandusky popping out kids for an alpha. Ben couldn't think of what it might be.

  He stared at his blank TV for a while. Then he got up and forced himself back to work. He'd talk to Tyler when he got home after work. In the meantime, he might as well get things done.

  Chapter Two

  Ty glanced up at the building he'd called home for three years, the taste of bile rising in his mouth. He'd never felt fear about his home before, not once. Even that time that everyone found out that the guy in 14 was a murderer, with a severed head in his freezer, he hadn't been afraid of his home. Now his palms were slick with sweat and his lungs struggled for air. He hated this.

  He scowled and walked right up to the door. Screw fear. Screw agitation. He wasn't going to let his past make him afraid to walk up to the door, damn it. And he wasn't going to let any alpha, let alone Ben Frigging Maxwell, turn him away from his home. Maybe he'd start to look for a new place, one a little closer to work and school, but that was just because of convenience and not because of some stupid alpha.

  All the same, he kept his footsteps as light as he could on the stairs. Who knew that all of those deportment lessons his mother had paid for would pay off someday?

  He crept into his own apartment without interference and headed into his bedroom. Ben looked good. He'd looked good back in the day, too, a teenaged Adonis to Ty's barely-pubescent little toad of a self. He smelled good too, much to Ty's eternal irritation. He smelled delicious.

  Some people, especially the more conservative omegas or the more New Age types, would have told Ty that this was a sign. If Ben's whiskey scent smelled good to Ty, then he should pursue him. He knew that Ben was at least kind of interested; he could see it in the way his pupils dilated and smell it in the subtle shift in Ben's scent. The thing was, no matter what kind of crap they'd tried to cram down his throat in Sandusky, Ty knew that alphas and omegas were not simply animals that walked around on two legs. They might feel attraction, but so did betas. Ty felt attraction of some kind twenty times a day. He didn't have to act on it, and when Ty remembered all of the misery that Ben Maxwell's mere existence had brought into his life he found that any attraction he felt quickly faded.

  It was a physical reaction, nothing more. It was like his mouth watering when he passed a food truck. He didn't have to stop and buy something, especially if it was bad for him.

  He sat down at the desk nestled under his loft bed and grabbed a book off the shelf. He could probably get a lot done if he blocked out the distraction that was Ben Maxwell. Ben, like Sandusky, was in the past. They'd been in the past for ten years. While everything that had happened back then had hurt more than anything that had happened before or since, and had been very dangerous to him to boot, he had a better life now than he could have ever expected back in Ohio. He shouldn't hold on to his resentments.

  Shouldn't and wouldn't were very different things, but at least he acknowledged what was right.

  He had just started to work on his thesis when someone knocked on his door. He groaned and banged his head on the desk. There was only one person that it could be. How did he even know that Ty was home, anyway?

  There was nothing else he could do. He got up and answered the door. He didn't bother to say hello. He just stared at Ben's stupidly handsome, heart-shaped face with its stupid little cleft in the chin.

  Ben looked a little taken aback at Ty's cold reception, which gladdened Ty's resentful heart. If he thought that Ty was cold, how did he account for just walking out on a terrified, shaking kid he was supposed to be claiming, with no word of explanation or anything? "Uh, hi." Ben's smile looked a little forced. "Obviously there's been some kind of a misunderstanding. Can we maybe talk about it? Over dinner?" He held his hands up. "Just dinner. In public. Nothing creepy. It's just that I don't know anyone in town but my boss and you, and I'd rather that my neighbor not be plotting to kill me in my sleep over something I don't understand."

  Ty thought about saying no. He wanted to slam the door in Ben's face. The only problem was that everything he was saying made sense. Ty's whole career was being built on helping people to understand one another and the consequences of their behavior. He couldn't just shut the door in Ben's face and still look at himself in the mirror. "Fine," he said with a growl. "Just let me get out of the monkey shirt." He shut the door, and locked it, and went to change from his work clothes into jeans and something with shorter sleeves.

  Ben was still waiting for him when he got back. That was kind of disappointing. "So. Where to?" Ben chuckled weakly, leading the way down the stairs. "Someplace around here in the Gaslamp, maybe?"

  "It'll be pretty crowded on a Friday evening. I wouldn't recommend that if you want to talk. There's a kind of upscale taco joint a little ways this way, over by the hotels and crap. The food's good, and it'll be easier to have a conversation." Giving directions from a step behind wasn't easy, but Ty didn't even try to get in front of Ben. Let him figure out for himself that being an alpha didn't give him an automatic map of the city in his head.

  They got to the restaurant, ordered dinner and drinks, and sat back. "So." Ty sat back and nibbled on a chip. "Yours is one face that I never figured I'd see again. What brings you to San Diego?"

  Ben did not nibble on the chips. He dug right in. "I got a job with one of the big construction companies. I'm a mechanic. I do diesel engines and heavy equipment." He glanced over at Ty. "So how did you wind up in San Diego, anyway? Are your folks in the area?"

  Ty almost choked on his chip. "You're joking, right?"

  Ben blinked. "You mean you're out here on your own? Good for you!
There aren't many omegas who choose to live on their own." He leaned back, studying Ty's face. "That takes a lot of strength."

  "Or, you know, no choice at all." Semi-hysterical laughter warred with rage in Ty's chest. He almost didn't see the waiter dropping off their margaritas.

  "What do you mean, no choice at all?" Ben pursed his lips and shook his head. "There's always a choice."

  "What do you think happened when you walked out of that room, Ben?" Ty took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and forced his anger to the back of his mind. He could do this if he really tried. He was a professional.

  "Um, you went home?" Ben scratched his head. "I figured your parents would wait until you were old enough before they tried to find you another alpha. I mean for crying out loud, you weren't old enough for a claim, you weren't physically able to be claimed. It wasn't right, Tyler."

  "It's Ty. Just Ty. And no. I'd been allowed to pack a few things to start my new life, before I left that morning." He grabbed his margarita and pretended he didn't notice the way his hand shook. "They let me bring it with me before they dropped me off at the bus station."