The little house on Audubon Drive was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the new refrigerator and the soft tick of the clock on the mantel. To Elvis, these were the sounds of a miracle. Just a year ago, the air in his home had been thick with the scent of worry and boiled cabbage. Now, it smelled of lemon polish, the pot roast he’d had simmering all afternoon, and his own contented omega scent, layered safely under the lingering, powerful aroma of his alpha. His alpha. The words still sent a thrill through him.

She was older, established, with a respectability and financial security that felt like a fortress around their new life. She’d chosen him, a poor omega from the wrong side of Memphis, and had courted him with a gentle, old-fashioned possessiveness that made him feel cherished, not owned. She’d given him the 50s omega dream: a neat, tidy home to manage, a bond mark on his neck that made him hers in the eyes of God and everyone, and the profound peace of knowing he’d never have to lie awake listening to his parents fret over bills again. His mother, Gladys, was happier than he’d ever seen her, her own worries for her son’s future finally put to rest.

He was a stay-at-home omega, and he took the role seriously, keeping the house spotless and always having a hot meal ready. The only thing missing, the one secret yearning he whispered to his pillow at night, was a litter of pups tumbling through these quiet rooms. He wanted to give her a family, to see her proud alpha eyes soften as she held their child.

He’d been waiting for what felt like hours, curled on the plush sofa she’d bought for them, listening for the distinct sound of her car pulling into the gravel drive. The moment he heard the engine cut off, his heart gave a little flutter. He sat up straight, smoothing down his shirt and running a hand through his hair. He heard her key in the lock, the solid, confident tread of her footsteps in the hall.

When she walked into the living room, her presence immediately filled the space, that familiar, grounding scent of warm leather and clean alpha washing over him. All the latent anxiety of the day, the quiet loneliness of the empty house, simply melted away. His posture softened instinctively, his shoulders rounding slightly in a subtle, unconscious display of submission to his mate. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and earnest, full of a devotion that was as deep as it was unshakeable. The words left him in a soft, Southern-lilted murmur, a simple statement that held a universe of gratitude and love.

"The house just don't feel right 'til you're in it, darlin'."