ETAx2: Yep, it holds up on a third read. What on earth.
ETA: Reread and loved it even more the second time. God, this book. It's everything I want in a love story (including the likelihood that the omega is infertile, which PHEW).
The Laurent storyline, man. He is so plausible, so charming, he shows up just when Malcolm is feeling especially low, and then he proceeds to slowly, subtly undermine Malcolm's confidence and autonomy, playing not only on his insecurities but also on stereotypes about omegas that, to one extent or another, almost everyone around them believes. It is such a skillful portrait of an abuser at work, and it was kind of awe-inspiring to watch it play out in the knowledge, this time, of what L. was up to. A different experience from my first reading, when, like Malcolm, I didn't catch on right away. *shudder*
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Holy cats, an omegaverse novel I unreservedly loved.
The setup: Vincent and Malcolm, VP and VP's boss, have a personally ... spiky ... relationship, with Malcolm constantly baiting Vincent, while Vincent fumes and snaps back. At the book's opening, Malcolm is about to return to work as a known omega, having spent the past decade on suppressants that masked his endotype but whose side effects have nearly killed him.
Here's where things get interesting. Although Malcolm is rich, powerful, and personally assertive, the minute he's revealed as an omega people -- alphas -- start treating him differently. So much solicitousness! So many boxes of chocolates! So many tiny unwanted touches leaving possessive alpha scent on him! So much cornering him whenever there's a corner conveniently located! In short, it's all polite-treating-him-as-weak shading into outright sexual harassment.
But then there's Vincent, who's just as snappish as ever, and who, in the aftermath of a potentially fatal elevator malfunction during which he and Malcolm saved each other's lives, turns out to be an alpha on the downlow. (He disguises his scent by showering with Doctor Smythe's Honey Lavender Endotype Cleanse. That brand name -- are you reminded of Dr. Bronner's? -- is among many nice touches.) Vincent is hiding his endotype for essentially the same reasons as Malcolm was: he doesn't want to participate in the expectations for alpha behavior, and he works hard to behave respectfully toward other people and to govern his temper.
In a world of belligerent, pushy knotheads, Malcolm needs to find someone to spend his first adult heat with. Theoretically he could get by alone, or just with someone to keep an eye on him and make sure he stays hydrated, but (naturally) heats are much easier on you if you've got someone to bang. One guess who the sole trustworthy alpha in Malcolm's acquaintanceship turns out to be.
In the runup to Malcolm's heat, he and Vincent start getting to know each other on a more honest basis. Hawes gives the two men a lot of scope for relationship development, which I really appreciated, so that by the time M's heat actually starts, the sex is so to speak between the two of them rather than between "an alpha" and "an omega." But of course, this is a romance novel, so we must have obstacles -- the immediate one being that Vincent is still hung up on his ex-girlfriend, Lacy. Also, although Malcolm has been pulling Vincent's pigtails forever, he spent his twenties drugging and shagging his way through the world and doesn't really believe he's worth loving.
Consequently, once M's heat has passed, he and Vincent begin orbiting each other at various more or less painful distances. For a huge chunk of the book they pine for each other while Vincent pines for Lacy and Malcolm dates one Laurent, who proves to be an emotionally abusive asshole with a veneer of sophistication and beautiful manners.
I um can't help but notice that many reviewers found this whole middle section frustrating and unnecessary, but for me it was the key to Late Bloomer's brilliance: the a/b/o elements -- the scenting, the possessiveness, the sexytimes, those were fun, but the emotional progress is all about two people who belong together but not yet. Not yet, because their histories need resolution first. Vincent needs to learn that he isn't really in love with Lacy anymore -- his genuine and appropriate grief is to do with the loss of their long friendship and of the feeling of being in love; Malcolm needs to kick Laurent to the curb and assert himself against even the well-meaning alphas in his life (his PA, for example). Meanwhile, M and V keep connecting (though they have sex on just one occasion during this stretch) almost in spite of themselves."
Late Bloomer is full of bite and of little bombs of insight:
"Vincent didn't know how to be afraid without also being angry. He knew that about himself and didn't like it much."
(The story is set in the near future:) "Sabrina, a staid and steady woman who'd decided to spend her retirement in what was left of Florida."
"Hundreds of rich people had gathered to applaud politely at speeches and feign concern about Parkinson's disease."
"He's got a tan, of course. Do you think his favourite band is Nickelback or do you think he's more into Chad Kroeger's solo stuff?"
"The exhaustion came up to Vincent with all the suddenness of a mugger in a darkened alley, rummaging through his pockets for spare energy."
(Malcolm says, of his teenage self:) "I was skinny and awkward." (Vincent replies:) "Bullshit. That's just what the attractive people say to the rest of us when they want to appear modest."
Malcolm, trying to convince himself that Laurent is a catch: "Every time Laurent ignored the [restaurant] servers, Malcolm made the choice not to let it bother him. [Malcolm's friend Ruby, a bartender who's also an omega, has trained him to always acknowledge and thank serving staff.] Every time Laurent talked over him, Malcolm decided not to mind. Every time it felt as if Laurent wasn't listening to him, as if he were making non-committal comments while his mind worked on something else, Malcolm chose to like Laurent in spite of it. Maybe Laurent had better things to think about. Maybe his job was stressing him out. Maybe Malcolm just wasn't that interesting."
Okay, that passage. That passage. What a perfect evocation of how social expectations of subordination can dovetail with a sense of personal unworthiness so the abused partner constantly explains away an abuser's behavior until the abused one is left with only this explanation: I myself am the problem, because I'm just not good enough.
After I read Late Bloomer I poked around some other a/b/o romances, but so far I haven't found another example of what made this book so special to me. The other books have been about alphas and omegas (and maybe betas); this one's about people struggling against pressures imposed by the social view of their alpha/omega biology -- so the a/b/o is almost a McGuffin -- but also with problems that have nothing to do with being an alpha or an omega: resolving your feelings about an old lover, or stepping away from the self-abnegation that you believe your history should impose on you.
And yes, I wept buckets, and the sex is extremely hot.