“Thank you,” Griean said. He turned to Mac, but he swallowed whatever he wanted to say because of Jamue.
Mac sighed in relief. He didn’t want to talk about him and Deltta. He was lying to the alpha. He could have told him about the claiming mark earlier, but he didn’t. He was afraid of what he’d do. They would break the bond of course. But would he still want to see him after?
Unlikely.
“What do you have planned for us?” Jamue asked.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Griean said. “For now, get changed, relax. Do whatever you must. We’ll be leaving in an hour.”
“Great.” Mac walked him to the door, closing it behind him. Arms folded over his chest, he faced Jamue. The omega smiled at him sheepishly.
“What?”
“Don’t what me. Why did you insist we stay in the capital?”
Smiling broadly, Jamue replied: “I didn’t. Your brother missed you and he wanted to spend time with you.”
“Jamue?”
“Okay…alright.” He flopped on the bed. “We stayed for personal and business reasons.”
“Business?”
Jamue stared at him as if he was daft. “Did you forget our plan? We’re starting a business. To do that, we must put our product out there.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jamue moved to his case and pulled out a nice-looking bottle.
“What’s that?”
“Your spirit. You made me some, remember? I saved it and bottled it up,” Jamue said with a shrug. “This bottle is nice, but I want something prettier, but it’ll do as a sample for now.”
Disbelief rocked through him. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Yes. If we do this, you won’t have to work for anyone. And I won’t run to my parents whenever things become tough or bond with the alpha they set up for me. We can be independent and live our own lives. We can do this, Mac.”
Heart beating fast, Mac contemplated the possibility. They could do it. He was already doing it. Faria’s customers were crazy about his spirits.
“What is the plan exactly?” Mac heard himself ask.
“The plan is simple. We go to the most popular leisure room in the capital. Find the owner and give him a taste of your spirit. Once he tastes this, he won’t be able to resist.”
“What happens next?”
“You make more. We can supply the concentrated versions of the spirits, or we sell the mixed versions. It’s up to you,” Jamue said, sounding like he had everything figured out. “But I suggest we sell the mixed version. You don’t want anyone to mess up your recipes.”
No. He wouldn’t want that.
It sounded all good. But they needed a lot of capital for something like this. He had some credit saved. It wasn’t enough, though.
As if he could read his mind, Jamue grasped his arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll start small and work our way up,” he told him, dropping the bottle in his hand. “For now, come up with a name for this.”
A name?
“Think fast. We leave in an hour,” he said, walking to the washroom.
Mac stared at the bottle. What was he going to call it?