Page 5 of No Strings Attached
I lean back against the rock wall, intent on taking a short break but Tristan’s already in my face, clapping his hands like I’ve completed a play. “Great work, Elias! Let’s keep it moving.”
My stomach drops as Nander steps into view beside him, his eyes scanning me like I’m a product on display.Jesus Christ. I knew the collab meeting was next but I vainly hoped I’d at least get a breather inbetween. I should have known better. “Give me five minutes,” I push out. “I need to grab some clean clothes.”
Nander laughs, a grating sound that makes my skin crawl. “No need,” he says, waving a hand. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
His gaze lingers as discomfort twists in my gut.Yeah, fuck that.“I’m going to grab some clothes, water, and maybe something to fucking eat,” I snap, my patience withering away. Despite how much I lean into masquerading around as a Beta, my Omega biology still needs to be catered to. “You can sit and wait until I come back.”
I snatch my bag from the ground and stalk toward the bathroom. Several of the staff steal glances of the muscles I’ve built up over the years, the freckles splayed across my chest, arms, and back. I’m not stupid—I know that Tristan has built me into a product but I hate being on display. I should have never signed that damn contract.
Tristan scurries up behind me, matching my pace as I push through the door into the small, tiled bathroom that smellsfaintly of lemon cleaner. I barely get inside to drop my bag on the counter before Tristan starts talking again. “Watch how you talk to people, Elias. You’re on thin ice with this attitude. Are you in heat or something?”
I resist the urge to growl, my hands freezing on a baggy flannel. My scent changer’s doing its job, masking the stormy rain of my Omega nature, but his jab hits a little too close to home. “That’s an odd thing to ask every time I find distaste in your plans,” I throw back at him, trying to keep my voice steady. I pull the shirt over my head, relishing the cool fabric against my heated skin. “No, I’m not. And I’d appreciate you giving me more time between events. I can’t even breathe.”
Tristan steps closer, his arms crossing over his chest, his sweet tobacco scent filling the small space. “I don’t pay you to breathe,” he growls. “You’ve got three minutes.”
I stare at my sorry ass reflection in the mirror for a moment before splashing cold water on my face to cool down. While I haven’t ever had a heat, that doesn’t mean my hormones aren’t constantly in flux, trying to figure out how to settle. They’ve never manifested as anger, though. Always irritation, exhaustion, and longing.
Longing for a pack of my own. Someone to come home to. To hold onto. Tolove.
I shed my pants and boxers, looking for a clean change of underwear when my phone pings on the counter. I grab it, expecting another message from a concerned fan or a creator checking in. Instead, it’s fromO-Nights,an app I haven’t touched in months, one I all but ditched after too many hookups went south.
Message from Monroe_86
Curious, I open up to their profile, a picture of a gorgeous married couple staring back at me. They have to be around my age, the woman’s dark skin contrasting the man’s pale flesh. Hernearly midnight waves hang around her shoulders, accentuating the white blouse she’s donned in. Beside her, the man’s got long dirty blond hair, a full beard that looks soft as a pillow, and a ruffled shirt that screams theater kid grown up. They’re both striking, their energy warm even through the screen.
My cock thickens in my pants at the thought they’d be giving me exactly what I ask for. Something tells me that this could be what I need to blow off some steam. I click around until I get to the messages again.
Monroe_86
Hey, we fell in love with your profile and were wondering if you were up for something a little different? We know how the world looks on our designations, but we’re kind of hoping this might be up your alley?
I frown, my thumb hovering over the screen. What do they mean,something different?
Freckles-n-adventure
What might that be?
A few seconds tick by, my heart in my throat before a new message pops up.
Monroe_86
Your profile says you would prefer a more dominant role in the hookup. Is that right?
My frown deepens. It’s been ages since anyone actually read my profile, let alone checked what I want. Most people see all six-foot-two of me, muscles, beard, and that harsh scent of mine and assume I’m an Alpha. Then, when they sniff out my Omega scent, even through the changer, it’s game over.
Alphas want to dominate me, Omegas want an Alpha I’m not. I never put my designation in the profile, too risky with Tristan holding my secret over my head. But these two… they’re asking, not assuming.
Freckles-n-adventure
Yeah? Why are you asking about designations?
Monroe_86
Because we’re Alphas.
I blink a few times before rereading their last message. Alphas submitting to me? The idea feels impossible, like a door I never knew existed. I’ve spent so long hiding, pretending, and pushing away anyone who gets too close to the truth. But this—two Alphas wanting me to take the lead—stirs something I haven’t felt in years. Hope, maybe, or just raw need.
Monroe_86
