My life is so weird, yet as a rancher’s son, this is my normal too.
Stop dragging your feet.
It’s been four goddamned days. FOUR. I haven’t played my guitar in as many days either, because I don’t fucking have it.
My annoyance at how twisted up I am over this omega while still denying myself his presence is eating at me. Dropping my laptop beside me, I explode off the couch.
“This ends now,” I growl, grabbing my keys. My boots are already on my feet because I’ve forced myself to take laps around my neighborhood when I was too jittery to sit still. Sit ups and push ups fill my early mornings, then I close out my long day of work with a two mile run in a pair of joggers and sneakers.
Anything to quiet the constant whispers in my mind telling me I need to stop being stubborn and go see him. Well, asshole in my mind, you fucking win.
Grumbling to myself, I lock up and stomp down the stairs to the main apartment door that leads to the street.
I just found out that the closing of my house has been pushed out by three months. I don’t understand why they’re now dragging their feet, not when it’s clear I’m paying cash for this.
I’m a superstitious man, something I picked up as an impressionable child. I know that if bees fly home and don’t return, I should expect incoming rain. I also know that anything in quantities of thirteen is asking for bad luck. Glancing at my keychain with the rabbit’s foot, I smirk at the reminder that my sisters are just as bad as I am. They hid this in my bags when I left.
When I called them to ask about it, they reminded me that the city could have new evils I wasn’t aware of and I’d need it. While I haven’t experienced any of it yet, I figured it wouldn’t hurt.
Striding with purpose down the street, my feet take me toward Octavian. It’s almost as if I disassociate, blink, and I’m here.
Autopilot is a hell of a thing. I’m an alpha who tries hard to remain aware of my surroundings since I know the dangers exist, but my roaring instincts to be near my omega are overriding everything else.
Closed.
In the four days that I’ve been gone, Tav has made some adjustments to the place. There’s a steel wrap-around enclosure on the bottom floor that almost reminds me of a closed store in a mall I once saw in a movie.
Why is the store closed?
Tav opens without fail, or at least he has every day that I’ve come down to busk in front of his giant window. I notice a lot more about him than he realizes, and I’m very concerned now.
There is even a spider web growing in the corner of the window, which is even more horrifying. Everything in his store is so nice and tidy. It almost makes me wonder if it’s a control he craves.
I’m unsure why he chose this monstrosity of an enclosure for his record store while it’s closed, and I even pull out my phone to search for robberies in the area.
Nothing comes up. My mind continues to attempt to pull the information in front of me into something that makes sense for a few minutes before I make another split second decision.
I’m not fucking going home without my guitar, and I’ll be damned if I don’t see my omega too.
I know he lives in the same building that he works in, and truthfully it makes sense that he does. Many storeowners do this. It lessens the commute, and they’re on hand if there’s an issue.
Now… to find the entrance way to it. I walk around and find a doorway that’s locked up tight. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t take me long to unlock it. A quick twist of a screwdriver I keep in my pocket takes care of the minor inconvenience, yet fills my veins with icy dread.
I’m going to need to change his locks because this isn’t safe.
I snort in amusement because I’m not someone that he needs to be kept away from, the rest of the world is. Pulling open the door as if I didn’t just break in, I relock it once I’m inside. I can see there’s another door to my right that leads right into the store, and it’s smart for blustery conditions. The less he has to go out, the better.
The walls are a brilliant white, and everything about this entryway is very clean. Hmm. I knew there was a certain wayhe liked to keep things. The feeling of dread inside of me continues to grow. Octavian would never allow a spider to take up residence near his record store.
Cleanliness is something he’s very particular about. I’m developing an idea as to why, but I need more information before I can begin to decide if I’m correct or not. Even then, I’m hoping that he’ll tell me about his struggles with needing things in their place.
I was going to go so far as to move things around to see what he’d do today, but his store is closed. I also don’t think that’s a great idea. I might get stabbed. I’ll find another access point to discuss his troubles.
One way or another, he’s going to open up to me, especially if I plan to claim him as mine. I refuse to have secrets between us. I’ll show him mine if he shows me his.
My lips twitch at the irony since I don’t have many. The deaths I’ve had a hand in aside, I don’t consider these to be necessarily “bad” things. I have a protective streak a mile wide, and I will and have killed for the people I love.
On silent feet for someone so large, I look around for cameras. I notice the ones I find are placed wrong, and they need to be fixed. By the time I arrive at his door, I doubt he even knows I’m here.