Sawyer and the Bookworms: Contemporary Sweet RH Omegaverse: The Candyverse, #3

By Mona Black

Omega Sawyer O'Connell is one proud owner of the Book Café, a cat called Potato, and a bevy of awesome friends. He participates at the book club of the local library, plays videogames and reads books, and isn't lonely.

Never. Not ever. How could he be lonely? He's so super busy all the time and he's surrounded by lovely people.

And yet…

Newsflash: cats and books can't fill the void of a mate in your life.

So no matter how cute Potato is, he can't replace the need of a pack.

Not to mention that Sawyer's parents have given him an ultimatum: choose a pack and tie the knot, or lose your business.

Enter Brinlee, fellow bookworm and sweet, pretty girl, hiding secrets and staying distant—and the McGraw Pack which consists of three otherworldly hunks who think they don't need more mates.

Perfect, huh? Not complicated at all.

Cue scent-match, interests-match, personality-match, and full-out fatal attraction, and everyone's well-thought-out plans go down the drain.

What happens when the pull is so strong your rational brain decides to go on vacation, leaving primal instincts behind the wheel?

A crash.

A disaster.

A chance to change direction?

With his first heat coming on, Sawyer has to decide between losing everything and gaining a pack, between taking a leap of faith and taking control of his life, giving into his feelings, or hiding in yet another book's pages forever.

Can he trust that love will find a way?
 

* This is a sweet omegaverse standalone novel with low angst, four gorgeous guys and a delta girl who find happiness together, accepting themselves and finding trust and love in each other. This story contains M/M, knotting, heats and ruts. Please note that this is not a shifter story, but it is set in a world where apart from gender, we have a designation as alpha, beta, omega, or more. Omegas are more submissive and are generally paired with dominant alphas. This is an oversimplification of course, I hope that in the course of the story it all becomes clear.*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Wing Press
• Release date: Jun 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227361097

Book preview

1

BRINLEE

Love always finds a way

O h, shit! The words leave my mouth as I crash into someone’s back, smacking my forehead into something hard—a backpack, I realize—and everything I was holding tumbles to the floor. " Christ. "

Here, let me help, the man says—a beta, I realize from the scent and shape of him—helping me gather the medicines back into the paper bag. Sorry, miss… wait. Brin? Brinlee!

I get up—a little too fast, which sends my head spinning. Noah. What are you doing here?

Here being a drugstore I don’t usually visit, as it’s nowhere near my job or home. Since he’s my co-worker, I wonder why he’d be visiting the drugstore next to Grace Memorial hospital, as I am.

He shrugs, gives me a sheepish smile. Just happened to pass by on my way to my sister’s place.

Just a coincidence, then. I nod, relieved, my worst suspicions fading, clutching the paper bag with the medicine in my hands. My heart is pounding. I force a little smile. Right. How is Gina?

Terrific. She’s in negotiations with a pack. She thinks they will claim her soon.

Negotiations. What a word. Makes it sound like a business transaction. Then again, omegas are often caught in this kind of hairy situation, omegas being the most coveted but also the most abused of designations. Such has always been the way of the world, or so I’m told. Whoever has value but no power will be exploited by those who do.

I know that sounds so jaded.

And I’m so glad I’m not an omega myself, though the bold D marked on my ID isn’t all that much better. Deltas are perhaps even lower in class than omegas, since we have similar characteristics and body types, but we don’t boast of ever going into heat and lack their legendary fertility and ability to drive alphas out of their minds with lust.

Which is partly why I am so glad. I can’t imagine wanting anyone going out of their fricking minds over me.

And partly because I can’t imagine losing control over my own body.

Overall, the alpha-omega dynamic is kind of insane.

So I’ll be on my way, Noah says and I blink, realizing I lost track of what he was saying. How mortifying. My regards to Tyson. How is he, by the way?

Tyson is my brother. And I say, Oh, you know. Ups and downs. He’s fine.

A total lie. We’re not fine. But I busy myself with the paper bag, not letting him see my eyes. I’m told eyes are the window to the soul, and mine are like open doors.

I gotta go, too, I say.

Another lie. There’s nowhere I got to be right now. Not for another couple of hours that I need to kill before I head off to work.

I need to read.

I literally mean that. I need to read. Books have always been my grand escape, but there is no library in this part of town, and right now, my money is limited. Very limited. I download as many free books as I can on my phone, and the truth is, some of the books I like are better read furtively on a phone so that others can’t catch a glimpse, but sometimes… Sometimes, I need to hold a paperback or hardcover book in my hands, feel the pages under my fingertips, smell that wonderful smell of paper and ink.

Transports me right back to my early childhood. I could…

Take care, Brin. See you around. Noah waves as he goes, and for a split second, I wonder if he fancies me.

A handsome beta, my co-worker, friendly and seemingly interested in me whenever we come across each other. He even remembers my brother’s name. Isn’t that a clue?

Oh God, no. No way. I shake my head at myself. He knows what I do for a living. People can be friendly to one another without fancy entering the equation, I remind myself. Like I am friendly with Sawyer.

Sawyer. Now, that’s a friendly person who’s always on my mind.

Of course he is. He’s so handsome… no wonder he’s been on my mind, and on cue, I find my steps turning south.

There is a café I discovered last year. It’s on a busy avenue with nice, new buildings, though the building where the café is housed is pretty old. It has a kind of old-world charm, and the café has a Parisian air about it. Kind of gloomy and old-fashioned, with a smell of roasted coffee beans and vanilla.

To my delight, it’s filled with books.

The Book Café, it’s called, this dream place, and it’s run by Sawyer, a cute omega man. That’s how I met him. He’s proven to be a kind, sweet guy, from our few interactions over the past year.

I wonder if he still around. He has to be. Not everyone disappears on you without notice. And yeah, I know, we never exchanged numbers or anything of the sort, so what notice would he give to a girl he barely knows, but… I haven’t been here in weeks.

And suddenly, an urgency grips me to see him, talk to him, make sure he’s still there. Make sure he’s alive and well and real.

I’m going insane. That has to be the cause of this fear. Or reading too much fantasy. Back in the day, Mom always said I shouldn’t read that stuff, but I never listened.

This is the real world, Brin. Sawyer is real. And sadly, what you’re going through is also real. Don’t let the idea of magic convince you otherwise. Life is a struggle. Life is a battle. And you need to win.

As I hurry toward the café, Sawyer’s face flashes through my mind again.

I have done my best not to think about him, not to read too much into his kindness, but attractive men who also happen to be friendly are a hook in the heart. So hard to take out.

But rationally I know that Sawyer isn’t interested in me romantically. He must be looking for a pack, if he hasn’t secured one already. Someone like him surely won’t have any trouble finding a pack. He must have packs fighting over him.

And I… I’m so tired.

I just need a safe, quiet place to land and hide for a while. The Book Café has been that place for me in the past. I hope it’s still there. I hope Sawyer is around. I hope… for small things, nowadays. Gone is the girl who imagined finding and being with a sweet pack of people just like her—in love with reading and soft sofas, reading nooks and libraries, with fantasy and romance, with a fairytale to live in. Escaping reality.

Now reality has smacked me in the face one too many times and gotten a choke-hold of my throat.

Yeah, small things are awesome. An hour lost in a good book. A delicious cup of coffee. A quiet presence nearby. A smile.

Sawyer’s face.

Yeah, I’d settle for that. I’d be lucky to have it. One day at a time, one little luxury at a time, to stop my mind from imploding. I just hope it works.

2

SAWYER

… a nd then Kade told me that if we ever have kids, he has some ideas for names…

Hm… I’m only listening to Bee with half an ear, while wiping down the counter with a wet rag and lost in my own thoughts.

Kade is Bee’s beta, by the way, and a friend of mine.

Just like Bee. A friend. I love her in a she’s-so-cute-and-nice sort of way. She’s a fun-sized bubble of joy and has become a good friend over the year since she crash-landed in the city and my life. She’s an omega like me, though initially she thought she was a beta, and she’s cute as a button, but I’ve never been attracted to her romantically.

No, instead she caught the attention of a local pack, the St. Laurent pack, and has been with them ever since. She used to work here, and when she quit, I thought I’d only see her in passing from now on, but although she has no need for money anymore, she still helps out here at the Café. She had stopped for a while, but now she’s back.

And I’m grateful.

I mean, the Book Café is the place where all our common friends congregate, so that’s probably why. The money I pay her can’t be the reason. In fact, after she left, I’d tried looking for another waiter or waitress, but nobody had taken a bite.

Sawyer? Bee waves a hand in front of my face. You keep spacing out on me and I’ll start thinking that something’s wrong.

I’m fine. I look down at the counter. Is it clean? No, not clean enough. I need to disinfect it…

Are you, though? she asks. Did something happen at home?

No. Everything’s great.

She narrows her eyes at me. Or is it a matter of the heart?

I choke. "The heart? Of course not."

I can see right through you, Sawyer O’Connell.

I widen my eyes at her, shake my head. You slay me, Mrs. St. Laurent. When is the official bonding party again?

Don’t change the subject, Sawyer, please. Is someone breaking your heart?

It’s nothing of the sort, I assure her. I’m not in love with anyone.

Are you sure?

Yes. I promise. Cross my cold, dead heart.

Not entirely true. But enough of that. I don’t want to talk about it.

Bee, though, doesn’t seem to be reading the same script.

Wasn’t there a girl you were pining over? she goes on, hitting the nail right on the head. Hard. With a sledgehammer.

Ouch.

I turn to pass my rag under the faucet, giving Bee my back, trying to collect my thoughts. Yeah, that girl… Blond hair in pigtails, dark eyes full of secrets.

She hasn’t come around in weeks and I hate the knot in my stomach. It’s half worry and half… something I can’t even name.

Is she okay?

Did she move away?

Did she hate me hounding her and talking to her?

Did she find herself a boyfriend? A pack?

Why didn’t she come back?

And now I sound like a whiny child.

People have lives, Sawyer, I remind myself. People have work and family and love interests you know nothing about. It’s how it is.

Not knowing bothers me.

Sawyer. Bee puts a hand over mine. I’m clutching the wet rag like I’m about to strangle it. Relax.

She’s been saying that a lot to me lately. Everyone has.

I’m relaxed. I’m just great.

And stop cleaning that counter, she says. It’s sparkling clean. You’ll wear the varnish down.

Yeah, yeah…

We have customers, she says with a small sigh. I’ll go take their order. If you want to talk⁠—

I know. Thank you. I smile and she hurries away to welcome the customers I hadn’t even noticed had entered.

So totally fucking relaxed.

Christ.

I turn off the faucet, wring the rag out, hang it to dry.

That’s when I see the guy at the back of the shop, where the reading area is, reorganizing the books on my shelves.

And I see red.

The guy is standing close to the reading area, with its used leather chairs and small tables, a book in his hand. From his height and the width of his shoulders, he’s definitely an alpha. He’s gazing at the shelves as if considering where to put the book, and already he’s made a mess of my perfect system.

Hey, I start, what do you think you’re…? I stop in my tracks, my voice catching in my throat as he turns around to face me.

Whoa. Who is this? How… how do you make a man so handsome? How…? Okay, my brain has ground to a stop, only firing random question marks at me.

Jeez…

The blond alpha standing in front of me is a goddamn vision. Any omega’s wet dream. From his short blond hair to his frosty blue eyes, that cut jaw and high cheekbones, the broad chest and the muscular arms, a chest that promises to be sculpted as fuck, he’s mouthwatering.

You… I start, lose my train of thought when he licks his lips. You are…?

Kyrian, he says. He looks down at me from his considerable height. And who are you? Do I know you?

I’m… Sawyer. I’m the owner of this place.

He arches a brow as if he doesn’t believe me. Really.

And that does it, ladies and gentlemen. My brain is pre-wired to see red when people dispute my abilities to do anything any non-omega can do.

Seriously? I snap. You think I’d lie about that? I grab the book from his hand—and it annoys me that I have to go on tip-toe to reach it. I’m not short but these alphas are fucking ridiculous. Ridiculous height, ridiculous muscles. Give it here. Questioning me, really?

You really are the owner?

I let out a very alpha-like growl. Yeah.

I get that a lot, unfortunately. This mistrust when I say that this store is mine. I look every bit the omega that I am, and omegas are often considered incapable of running a business on their own. It annoys me and my patience is worn thin already these days.

But he only shrugs those broad alpha shoulders as if this whole convo that got my hackles up doesn’t matter one bit. I was only reorganizing the books.

Yeah, don’t… don’t do that. Just don’t. I carefully reshelve the book in its rightful place. It has a nice purple spine, so it goes in the purple section.

Ah. There. What a relief.

I didn’t realize it was such a big deal, he says, his voice deep and pleasant, although it says annoying things. They seem to be randomly placed on the shelves.

They are perfectly organized by color⁠—

By color? That’s useless, isn’t it?

The fuck. I splutter. If you’d let me finish… They are organized by color, and size, placed at the exact same distance from the edge of the shelf… But also by genre, if you didn’t notice.

And okay, organizing books on esthetic grounds may be useless in a café where customers are supposed to grab books off the shelf and read, then shove them back somewhere and go on their merry way, but this is… for me.

How to reconcile my need for order and the raison d’etre of this café?

I don’t care for books anyway, he says, driving the final nail in his coffin, handsome as hell or not.

If you don’t like books, I grunt, then why are you here? Criticizing my shelf organization as if it’s any business of yours?

Fuck, I shouldn’t be treating customers this way. I know it, and yet he’s pressing all my buttons. Red buttons. Alert. Danger.

He says nothing. Doesn’t react to my words. Which should be a relief, but feels like a dismissal.

Don’t react, Sawyer, I tell myself. That’s enough. Stop this right here. He’s… gorgeous and just as annoying, but that shouldn’t matter. None of it should.

A man who doesn’t like books isn’t my type of man, no matter how beautiful and sexy. That’s that. I have, after all, my list.

The list of features my ideal harem should sport.

Books are at the top of the list. That shouldn’t constitute any wonder for anyone who knows me. So this alpha… good riddance.

He’s still gazing down at me, though, I realize, through the golden fringes of his lashes, as if… measuring me. Or waiting for something.

Such an omega thing to do, he mutters eventually. Typical. Organizing books by color.

And… back to seeing red.

No, it’s not typical. It’s not simply about esthetics. He doesn’t know me, and it bothers me that he’s drawing conclusions. Alpha-splaining.

It’s… the way it looks. It bothers me when the colors are random. It makes me… afraid somehow. The lack of order. The lack symmetry. Of control.

It’s something that sometimes takes over my life. The need for beautiful symmetries. Sacred geometries. Equilibrium, when it sorely lacks in my own life.

But I have learned to control the compulsion. Mostly. Like I said, these days I’m out of sorts. It will pass.

I open my mouth to tell him to mind his own fucking business, professionalism be damned—and isn’t already too late for that, Sawyer?—when the door of the café dings and someone enters.

Someone who instantly has my entire and undivided attention, erasing the red tint from my vision and the urge to throttle a certain alpha from my mind.

She is here.

3

SAWYER

It’s the girl. That girl. Brinlee. Wild, blond hair in pigtails like a pixie, dark eyes like deep wells, and…

What the fuck?

Without thinking, I stride up to her and lift my hand to her face. What the hell happened? You’re bleeding? Who did this to you?

It’s nothing. I hit my face against a backpack. At what has to be an incredulous look on my face, she laughs softly. I swear it’s true. A guy was wearing the backpack. I just happened to walk into his back.

You walked into a random guy’s back? Her skin is so warm under my fingertips, so smooth, like fine silk. Her eyes are drawing me in, so dark and warm. I want to curl up inside her gaze.

Oh no, he’s a friend.

A friend, I repeat, heat spreading in my gut. Wait, am I jealous?

A colleague.

Should I believe her? I’ve seen signs of domestic violence before, and no excuse should ever convince anyone that the bruises were the result of falling or slamming into furniture by chance. Yet I don’t know her enough to tell if she’s telling the truth, or to ask again.

She leaves me no time to decide how to handle this, stepping back and away from me. My hand falls to my side, and the look in her eyes tells me she’s considering fleeing.

I have scared her. Dammit. She will run—again, like the last time I saw her, and it will be my own goddamn fault for coming on too strong and acting like a stalker of some sort.

I should go, she says as if on cue.

No, please, I whisper. Please, stay. Let me make you a coffee. Flat white. Lots of milk, no sugar, right?

Her dark brows arch. You remember.

I hide a wince. Now I’m probably scaring her more. I have a good memory for drinks. And faces. That’s all. Part of my job.

It’s still not enough, it seems, because she bites her lower lip and inches back. I don’t know if I should…

I brought in a new batch of books just today, I blurt out, panicking and desperate to convince her to stay. Lots of romantasy titles. Lots of Fae and shadow daddies.

And… wouldn’t you know. Looks like I’ve hit the jackpot. Her pretty eyes brighten and she stops inching away from me.

For real? she asks eagerly. What titles do you have? Anything with dark academia and dragons?

Shit, a girl after my own heart.

I sure do. That is, I’m pretty sure I do. Would you like to take a look?

She hesitates, then nods, and a weight lifts off my shoulders.

But then she says, Are you sure… you’re okay with me just sitting and reading? While having a coffee, of course.

This is what this café is all about, I inform her, grinning and unable to hide it. Go ahead and grab a book, I’ll bring you the coffee.

I can’t fucking hide how pleased I am to see her again. I watch her walk to the back of the café, feeling guilty for not being able to look away from her heart-shaped ass and shapely legs in her worn jeans, the way she tilts her head. She’s like a fantasy princess. Or a pixie.

My pixie.

Oh, man… Back away, Sawyer, before you do anything more stupid. Something like pledge your life to her, to a girl you barely know. You don’t even know her designation, her familial status, her needs and wishes. Don’t push her. Don’t insist.

Detangle your own life first before you ask her if she’s interested in starting something with you, yeah?

Easier said than done. I just can’t keep away. Before I know it, I’m back there, beside her, acting like a creep.

Have you found anything you like?

I got this one. She waves the book at me, grinning. It has a wild-haired girl on the cover. Like her. It’s about an omega acolyte in a temple who is sworn to chastity but then goes into heat and realizes she’s an omega. In that world, being alpha or omega is a bad thing because that means they are Fae and the king is after them…

Yes? I prompt when she trails off.

Sorry. Speaking of heats to an omega is bad manners, isn’t it?

It’s fine, I assure her.

But I⁠—

Society doesn’t like us talking openly about sexual matters. Periods. Heats. Pregnancies. I think we should. We should talk about all this shit.

I sure hope you’re not pregnant.

Nope. I pat my—admittedly flat—stomach. It’s all chocolates and cake.

A snicker escapes her. I’m pretty damn sure she hadn’t meant to lower her defenses and allow herself the reaction, because instantly she claps a hand over her mouth.

Does it feel good that I got through and made her laugh? Fuck, yeah.

Do I want more? Do I want to inch closer, slip through all those prickly walls and touch her? Hell, yeah.

Do I think that it’s a bad idea when she’s so skittish?

Fuck me, yeah to that, too.

Knowing it, though, has never stopped me before. Not when I told my alpha brother Eric when I was little that I wanted to fly, and then went on to climb onto the roof of our house and jump. He caught me, thankfully, by the way. Not when I decided to leave the family nest and open this café against my parents’ will, making a tense situation worse, and again leaving Eric to pick up the pieces.

Poor Eric. He’s a Neanderthal, but he’s been a good brother to me.

Only now he’s pushing for me to find a pack and won’t let himself look for one of his own before I am married off.

No pressure.

Adding on to my family’s moves to get me the pack of their dreams, it’s making me jittery. I know what sort of pack they have in mind.

And I’m not sure I’d be happy with that.

But one thing at a time. My girl is here. I’ve made her favorite coffee, pointed her to her favorite genre, and maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to her some more. Get to know her. Make her less scared of me.

No matter what my family has decided for my future.

Can you make me one of those frothy chai lattes you made for Casey the other day? Gigi asks, making herself comfortable on a stool behind the bar. He said it was divine.

Casey is her pack’s omega and an old friend of mine. Since he got together with Gigi and a pack, I don’t see them as often, but they are happy and that’s so great. A pack is what I’m expected to find, too. In fact, my parents have been pushing for me to meet with a high-end pack looking for an omega, but I⁠—

Whoa, you are spacey today. Gigi leans forward to peer at me like an inquisitive magpie. Where’s your head at?

Involuntarily I glance at the back of the café. There she is. Brinlee is still there. I keep glancing her way, afraid she’s already gone.

But she will leave, I remind myself. You should go and, I dunno. Give her your phone number. Ask for her full name.

So you can find her and stalk her on social media? Think that won’t scare her?

Oh God, Sawyer, forget about the frothy drink. Gigi leans over the counter, her blue eyes concerned. Tell me what’s the matter. How can I help?

You can’t, I whisper and then curse myself when she frowns. Gigi⁠—

"Now I know something is wrong."

You were fishing for info? I ask, incredulous.

Sue me. I’d do anything for my friends. Tell Aunt Gigi what’s wrong.

"Aunt Gigi. I snort. I gesture at her pretty, freckled face. You look so young you should be asked for an ID when you buy booze."

Who says I’m not? She sticks her tongue out at me.

See? And I’m fine, everything’s fine. Stop being a worrywart. I grab a tall latte glass from the shelf. "I’ll prepare you a frothy chai that will make you see God, while you tell me your news, deal? I haven’t heard from you in a while. I’ll… shit."

What? Gigi hops off her stool. What is it?

But I’m already hurrying around the bar because, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my girl leaving.

Brinlee, wait! I race between tables, bumping into chairs, almost tripping over a customer’s foot, reaching her right at the door. Wait.

I have to get to work, she says, but her smile is muted.

Oh. Shit, okay. Of course. Look⁠—

I’ll leave you to your girlfriend.

My girlfr—? Oh, you mean Gigi? No, wait, she’s not… wait!

But Brinlee goes without another word, pushing the door open and stepping out—just as a group of customers steps in—and I still haven’t managed to get her phone number or give her mine.

Is it rude to ask her now? It probably is.

Fuck it, I don’t care. I brush past the last customer entering and rush out, turning in a circle, looking for her.

But she’s gone.

4

KYRIAN

K y, have you seen Luna? Roman hollers from behind the bar, a cocktail shaker in his hands.

Nope! I call back, taking him in. Bartenders dress up for the job, and he’s wearing a shimmering black shirt that matches his eyes. He looks good enough to eat, and my dick agrees, hardening in my pants. Haven’t seen her today. Was she supposed to come in?

She’s supposed to take Eve’s shift.

Luna is a dancer who works here at the Alpha Bet bar sometimes. And Roman is the beta of my pack.

It feels kinda strange to say that out loud. My pack. My beta.

Having a pack, a family, that’s a new thing for me. Sometimes I pinch myself. I have to, or I might think I’m dreaming.

We’re not an official pack, not yet. There’s a law that says you need an omega in your pack to register it. Legal bullshit. We’re fine the way we are. We don’t need more people.

I don’t, anyway. I’m so fucking lucky as it is.

I mean, who would want to be with someone like me? And yet Roman and Archer seem to think I’m worth it. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to wake up and kick me out of their lives, but it hasn’t happened so far.

I haven’t managed to annoy them that much yet.

That reminds me of this guy I met the other day… Sawyer. An omega, I’d thought, from the slender cut of his body to his pretty face, and that sweet scent that went straight to my dick. Yeah, I’ll bet he’s a full-blooded omega.