“What’s the craic?” he asked.
“Nothing. I came to talk to you about the Alpha thing.”
“Okay. Talk about it,” Fergus replied.
“You and Eimear. You’re still bent on going off for a wee bit?”
“Aye.”
“Then let’s make plans for it.”
“Is that your way of accepting?”
“Aye.”
“Good on you. Let’s go inside,” Fergus replied.
When they were done ironing out the details of the transition, Olcan got up to leave, but Fergus stopped him.
“Sit back down a spell and talk to me, Olcan.”
“About? I thought we covered everything.”
“No. Not all of it. Something else is on your mind. I know you too well not to know when you’re in some sort of bother.”
Olcan sat down and shook his head, not sure how to even phrase what he was experiencing. He felt compromised somehow, something he’d never felt in his twenty-seven years. Though Fergus was the oldest and it had always been known he would take over their father’s job as Alpha someday, Olcan had always felt equally capable. Now, he was second-guessing if he truly did have the stuff his brother was made of. He’d never allow himself to be distracted by his mate, and here Olcan was, unable to forget a stranger across the street he fucked once.
“That lass. The one across the street,” he began but stopped.
“Aye? You find out something bad about her?”
Olcan looked upward, a scowl on his face.
“No. I fucked her.”
“What?” Fergus said, laughing. “That was fast work.”
“It just happened. I couldn’t control myself and she didn’t say no.”
Fergus stopped laughing, his brows furrowed together as he studied his brother’s face.
“What do you mean, you couldn’t control yourself?”
“She brought me stew as a peace offering after an unpleasant encounter from earlier—my doing—and all I could think about was getting with her.”
“Wait. Is she a shifter?”
“Yes. She’s an Omega. I could smell it on her,” Olcan replied.
“An Omega? Here, in Boston? That’s more than a wee bit suspicious.”
“I thought so too, but I made some calls, and it’s just a fluke. She is a widow, running away from troubled times in Ireland. It checks out.”
“I’ll trust you on that if you say so. I know you’d never compromise the clan, but this other thing, you know what’s happened, don’t you?”
“I don’t have a fucking clue. Even miles away, all I can think about is getting back to see her again . . . if she will even see me. I was pretty shit to her after we were done. Basically got my balls drained and sent her home while I showered off the funk.”
“That’s pretty crap. Yeah, but it sounds like you won’t have to worry about her not coming back to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Olcan, I know you were young when we left Ireland, but don’t you remember the Omegas there? The stories?”
“No, not really. All that is sort of a blur to me, and we don’t have any here that I know of. What is it?”
“Omegas are important to clans because they are like incubators. They rarely have less than twins when they give birth and their gestation periods are sometimes short, so they build up a clan’s numbers quickly. It used to be important when there were bigger battles and it was needed to get a clan rebuilt. It’s not so important anymore and, with birth control and all, not like one here would be pumping out cubs—but when you meet the Omega meant for you, there is a natural attraction that kicks in.”
“I still don’t really follow.”
“Olcan, you’ve imprinted on her. That girl can no more deny herself to you than you can to her. You’re her one true partner. You’ll never find another woman who will appeal to you like she does. You’re done, mate.”
“No. That’s crazy. She’s a widow, so she would have already had an imprint on her from someone else, even if he’s dead.”
“Not necessarily. Omegas get a raw deal in most clans. They would have married her off to someone who had something to offer in return . . . power, wealth, social status. Those matches are made when these women are still girls, and the marriage takes place as soon as they come of age. The likelihood of getting matched to your one true mate is very slim in those circumstances.”
“Slimmer than moving to another country and accidentally living across the street from him?”
“Aye. Apparently so.”
“What do I do then? I don’t want a mate. I’m good like I am.”
Fergus laughed again.
“You were good like you were. Good luck just letting her go. From what I’ve heard from shifters who have imprinted on their true Omega, you’ll never be able to overcome your pull to her. You can try, obviously, but you’ll always want her in a way you’ll never want any other woman.”
“That’s crazy. Did you imprint on Eimear?”
“Yes and no. I feel all of that for her, but it’s more a choice of my own than it is biological. She’s human, so any imprint wouldn’t be the same. Yours is ingrained in our kind. It goes back centuries.”