by Leta Blake
But first he went to his office and called his parents’ house. Joon answered, sounding tired, but evidently still employed. Xan got the information he needed to set aside some of his worries: Pater and Ray were both much improved and had continued to get better with the medication Xan had left behind.
“And my father?” he asked.
“Very angry.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Joon said quietly. “Your pater is very angry, too, from what I’ve heard echoing in the hallways upstairs. I suspect your father will be on the phone to you with apologies before long.”
Xan didn’t bother to tell the old servant that he doubted that very much, and doubted even more that he could ever deign to accept them. Instead, he asked Joon to keep him informed about Ray and his pater’s health before saying goodbye.
In the kitchen, the cook seemed startled to see Xan in nothing but his robe and slippers. “Sir, you should be in bed with Mr. Riggs!”
Xan smiled tiredly. “The wave has passed and he’s hungry.”
The part about Caleb’s hunger wasn’t true, but Xan was starving after his crazy night in the city, driving six hours in the small hours, eager to get home to the comforting arms of his lover, only to arrive to utter chaos. And then he’d held Caleb’s heat at bay all on his own. He needed replenishment to carry on.
“How is the baby?” he asked. He’d noticed the door to Vale’s room was closed when he’d passed through that hallway to offer his congratulations. He’d heard happy sounds from within, though only in Jason and Vale’s tones, and he’d decided not to disturb them. As for Urho, he didn’t know where he was, and he ached to see him.
“He’s a howler! Strong lungs! Healthy!”
“Good news, then.” Xan smiled.
He was about to ask the cook about Urho’s whereabouts and the health of his cousin when Ren appeared from the door leading out to the detached wing where Janus was still staying. Carrying a tray with a full bowl of broth on it, Ren looked haggard and pale, but when he caught Xan’s eye, he obviously tried to buck up.
“Sir, when I heard you’d arrived, I couldn’t believe our luck. I’d started to despair.”
“It was luck,” Xan agreed. He almost began to explain that he had fled the city in the night, but then realized that would require explaining why, and the fight with his father and then Monhundy was absolutely not the servants’ business. He finished lamely, “I’d have been here earlier if I’d known.”
“Of course you would have, sir. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“How’s Janus?” Xan asked, pulling up a stool by the cook’s prep counter. The cook frowned at him, but didn’t stop arranging a heaping plate of food for Caleb. Xan’s belly rumbled, and the cook pulled out another plate and started to prepare it too. “Is Urho with him now?”
“Dr. Bainson has been here for the last hour. Dr. Chase had to shower after the delivery, but he’s consulting with the doctor now. Mr. Janus is…” Ren sighed, placed the tray in the sink to be washed, and dumped the contents of the bowl down the drain. “Not eating,” he finished, though his slumped shoulders and miserable tone said so much more.
“He’s doing worse then?”
“Mr. Heelies, he’s a very sick man.”
Xan swallowed hard and gazed past the cook out the kitchen window to vegetable gardens recently planted there. The afternoon sun—had he spent the whole day with Caleb? No wonder he was so tired!—shone on the fresh plants. He didn’t know what to do with the news. And he knew so little about his cousin that he didn’t know what he’d even want. Would he want a priest from the Holy Order of Wolf, or would he prefer to die unblessed? Was it even time to think about such things?
He snatched a carrot from the cook and chomped it thoughtfully. “I should go see him.”
“Not now!” Ren exclaimed. “You can’t risk carrying any sickness back to Mr. Riggs. You should wait until after the heat.”
Xan opened his mouth to ask what the chances were that Janus would make it through the heat when he was interrupted.
“What happened to your face?” Urho’s voice came sternly through the open kitchen door. Xan caught his breath as his lover walked into the kitchen, strong shoulders back, fresh suit unwrinkled, and his dark skin burnished by the rosy afternoon light from the kitchen windows. The salt-and-pepper of Urho’s hair shimmered in the sun, and the smatter of wrinkles by his eyes crinkled reassuringly.
Xan’s heart squeezed with joy. Urho looked like everything Xan needed to make it through the day—and everything he needed for the rest of his life. Here was the man Xan had probably thrown away his inheritance for, and Urho was worth every last cent.
Xan’s stomach fluttered, and he glanced up from beneath his lashes. His reply caught on his tongue. He didn’t know what had happened here at the house in his absence, and he didn’t know how to explain what had happened in the city. Especially in the short amount of time afforded them before Caleb’s next heat wave descended.
Urho stared at him intently. “You should be in bed.”
“It’s just a bruise. I’m fine.”
“I meant you should be in bed with Caleb.”
Xan flushed. He glanced toward the servants, and Ren excused himself from the room. The cook got busy finishing up the tray, making a show of humming under his breath.
“Caleb needed some food,” Xan said, his stomach grinding with both hunger and now worry. He gestured toward the delicious-smelling fare the cook was piling up, knowing he’d be lucky to get Caleb to eat even two bites of it. However, he thought he could demolish both plates entirely himself.
“I see.” Urho held himself tightly, his face carefully blank, and his eyes narrow.
Xan turned to the cook, who was piling fruit salad into bowls for the tray, and said, “That’s enough. Thank you.”
When Xan made to take the tray, Urho stepped forward and grabbed it from the cook’s hands. Following Urho out of the kitchen and into a private serving alcove just outside it, Xan’s gut churned. He hadn’t let himself think too much during his long drive about what he expected to find once he got home, but he’d definitely imagined his reunion with Urho quite a bit differently.
Urho placed the tray on the sideboard in the alcove and grabbed Xan roughly. His kiss was urgent, and Xan moaned into the shock of it. Urho’s hands mapped his body, sliding beneath his robe and awakening his skin and his lust. Just the glide of his hands over Xan’s nipples filled him with more desire than the sex with Caleb had or ever could.
When Urho released him, he gripped Xan’s face in both hands and stared into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I needed to touch you. In the kitchen, I almost couldn’t hold back.”
“The servants don’t care.”
“Rumors don’t care who start them either.”
Xan didn’t point out that they were currently only a doorway and a few steps from the cook, and that any of the other servants could come around the corner and spy them in each other’s arms. Truth be told, he didn’t care in the least.
Not anymore.
He didn’t want to live his life hiding—not in his home anyway. That was what he’d declared to his father, wasn’t it? And to Wilbet Monhundy? And he intended to stand by those declarations.
“I’m sorry about locking Caleb in.” Urho nuzzled Xan’s temple, scenting his hair. “I did the best I could, but it hurt my soul to do it.”
“I know. He knows too.”
“I don’t think I can ever look him in the eye again.”
“I hope you can, because he’s requested that you join us in helping him through the rest of the heat. If Janus doesn’t need you, that is. Or Vale.”
Urho kissed Xan’s throat and then whispered, “Vale is doing better than I ever could have envisioned a few years ago. He’s nursing the baby like a natural, and making plenty of milk. His anus and channel are already responding to the post-birth hormones and are tighte
ning well. He’s—quite miraculously—safe.”
“That’s wonderful. And the baby? Is it an omega?”
“No. I believe he’s an alpha based on his genitals.”
“How perfect for them.” Xan bit his lower lip, worry for his cousin still weighing on him. “And Janus? Does he need you?”
“The village doctor is staying with him now. He doesn’t want the contagion getting down into Virona.” Urho sighed and traced Xan’s bruised jawline with his thumb. “As for me, well, Janus is past any help I could give. Whether or not he’ll survive is up to his ability to fight. The servants are doing everything they can to make him comfortable and contain the sickness. We must keep the servants caring for him separate from any food or drink going to Vale’s room. Ren knows this already. But now that Vale’s delivered the baby, we have a small soul to consider as well.”
“Ren will make sure every precaution is taken.” Searching Urho’s eyes for some hope, he asked, “Truly, though? Janus isn’t likely to make it?”
Urho blinked a moment before dropping his hand from Xan’s face and glancing down at his shoes. “Dr. Bainson thinks he still has a small chance, but it’s touch and go.” Urho met Xan’s gaze again. “I tend to agree with him, though I’ve kept myself from direct contact for fear of catching the illness and taking it to Vale and the babe. If Janus makes it through the next few days, he might recover. Though his fever has raged so high, Dr. Bainson fears there might be ongoing problems. We can’t know for sure.”
“Oh, wolf-god,” Xan sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He was so tired. The last twenty-four hours had been exhausting, and they still had Caleb’s heat to get through before they could rest. He cleared his throat, his mind coming back to Janus. “I admit I never liked him and often resented him, but I didn’t want this. Caleb will be devastated if Janus doesn’t survive.”
“There’s a story there you haven’t told me yet.”
“Yes, and it’s a long one.”
“Xan?”
Xan looked up at Urho, taking in his kind, dark eyes, and the tender expression on his face. His stomach fluttered again. He loved this man, and maybe this man would never love him the way he’d loved his Riki, but Xan was going to take what he could get. And he’d take this man forever. Fight for him. Tell the world to fuck off for him. If only he wasn’t so tired, he’d tell Urho all of that.
Urho touched the bruise on Xan’s face, his fingers tracing it tenderly. “Did Caleb do this during the heat?”
“No.” Xan quivered at Urho’s touch.
“Then who?”
“My father,” Xan said, and then added with a thick tongue, “Or maybe Monhundy.”
“Your father or…?” Urho’s eyes went dead and his hand stilled in its caress. “Did you go to him?” Betrayal shone in his eyes.
“No. I would never. Please believe me. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Urho’s expression cut Xan to the quick—the doubt and fear.
Xan’s stomach curled in on itself. Stricken, he murmured, “I should be getting back to Caleb to make sure he eats.”
Urho’s eyes blazed, and he took hold of Xan possessively, cradling him in his arms. “I’ll kill him.”
Xan allowed Urho to hold him, aching with the joy of being so completely adored. He’d never experienced the kind of love Urho offered him. He struggled to reconcile it with the knowledge of Urho’s room and shrine to Riki. He didn’t want to be jealous of a dead man, but could he ever really compare? Wasn’t he always going to be second-rate—not really an omega, and definitely not Urho’s Érosgápe.
He shoved the thoughts aside, reveling in Urho’s possessive embrace. It didn’t matter. He refused to let it sidetrack him. This was his life, and his choice. Urho was his to love now.
“Monhundy’s nothing to me,” Xan said firmly. “Besides, I took care of it. He won’t be touching me again.”
“You’re absolutely right he won’t,” Urho growled. “I’ll kill him first.”
Xan hastened to distract Urho from his anger. “What matters right now is Caleb, and Vale, his baby, and Janus. Monhundy is trash and his future is garbage too.” Xan rubbed Urho’s arms soothingly. “I love you.”
But Urho wasn’t going to be distracted. “If you didn’t go to him, he must have come to you.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s a miserable man with a miserable life.” Plus Wilbet Monhundy was a coward. It gave Xan a thrill deep in his gut to remember the terror in Monhundy’s eyes as he’d stared at Xan the night before. “Just leave it alone.”
Urho gazed down at him, then touched the bruise again with gentle fingers. “You said this bruise could have been from your father. He hit you?”
“It’s a long story. But my father and I…” Xan shook his head. “I think I might be poor before very long. Hopefully Caleb will forgive me.”
Urho blinked at him. “Well, then. Lucky for you and Caleb, I have a lot of money.”
“Let’s discuss it later.”
Urho touched the bruise again. Then he kissed it softly and moved to Xan’s mouth. The kiss intensified, and Urho’s hands slid beneath Xan’s robe, rubbing his nipples, lighting him on fire.
“Caleb needs us,” Urho whispered against Xan’s lips. “Let’s take the tray and see what we can get him to eat before the next wave hits.”
Xan panted hard as Urho pulled away, but followed him up the stairs. The wing towards Vale and Jason’s room was quiet. No doubt the little family was taking a well-earned nap.
At the door to Caleb’s room, Urho stopped him. “Are you sure he wants to see me?”
“He asked for you.”
Urho nodded, but shame haunted his eyes. “I didn’t want to leave him like that.”
“He’s Caleb. He understands.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t.” Urho huffed. “Doesn’t Caleb deserve to be put first in someone’s life? The way you’re first in mine?”
Xan’s eyes went wide, the tray he was holding suddenly heavy. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I love you and when I think about the future, you’re all that’s important to me.”
The rooms in Urho’s house in the city seemed far away now. “I want to kiss you but—” he indicated the tray in his hands.
Urho leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to Xan’s lips. “We can’t share the way we love with Caleb, but we can share our devotion and friendship with him. Let’s make Caleb our priority today. Let’s focus on him.”
Xan agreed, his heart full of respect and affection for Urho, and love for both his omega and his lover.
Caleb sat up in bed, a dazed, exhausted expression on his face, but his eyes lightened up when he spotted Urho with Xan. “That food smells dreadful,” he murmured, his voice soft and wrecked. “But I’m glad to see the two of you.” He smiled, relief and warm affection in his gaze.
“We brought marmalade,” Urho said, dipping his head.
“And alpha condoms?” Caleb asked. “For you?”
Urho nodded, cleared his throat, and said, “I’m so sorry about—”
“Stop.” Caleb held up a hand. “Just smear some marmalade on toast and feed it to me by hand as your penance. We’ll call it all forgiven.”
Urho chuckled and Xan took off his robe.
“Oh, and get naked,” Caleb said. “Because if this prickling is any indication, I’ll be losing all this lovely clarity very, very soon.”
Urho could barely remember the last time he’d been so relieved and simultaneously worried as he’d been the moment he saw Xan’s mop of curls over his flushed cheeks in the kitchen. The bruises on his face had clenched Urho’s gut, and Xan’s tired, worn-out eyes hadn’t helped matters. But the sheer joy of seeing him again—the lift in Urho’s chest and the rush in his veins—couldn’t be denied.
The news that the bruises came from two physical altercations with two different men who were much larger than Xan plagued Urho. No doubt he’d soon demand more information about both encounters, bu
t for now, Xan was safe, and that was what mattered most. They had an omega in heat to deal with, and Caleb deserved every ounce of their attention, affection, and focus.
Once they were alone and naked in Caleb’s room, the negotiations began. Urho was accustomed to servicing omegas in heat, but usually he simply went on instinct and the omegas were happy with that. Caleb, however, had rules.
“First,” he said, munching on the orange piece that Xan had forced into his mouth. “I don’t want this to be about ‘making love.’”
Urho’s eyebrows went up. “Come again?”
“Well, it can be about that for the two of you—in fact, that might be nice. But for me? No. I just want to be fucked and knotted to relieve the pain. I don’t want a bunch of caressing and fondling, and I definitely don’t want oral or even kissing. This isn’t about that for me.”
Urho nodded, vague confusion flitting around in his mind, but he didn’t put voice to it. This was Caleb’s heat and he should call the shots.
Xan asked, “Can I scent your shoulders, though? And your neck?”
Caleb pondered. “Yes. You do that a lot anyway. I’ve always liked it. So, yes.”
“And can I kiss your forehead or run my fingers in your hair?” Urho asked.
Caleb nodded. “Anything you’d normally do with me, you can continue to do. Unless I say to stop, of course.” He smiled at Urho, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges, and that look felt like forgiveness for having to lock him in before. Urho sighed in relief. Caleb added, “Both of those things sound nice to me. I don’t want you to be cruel. That’s not what I mean at all! But I prefer the sex be treated as perfunctory.”
“I thought you didn’t like to do this with strangers?” Urho asked, finally letting some of his confusion show.
“I don’t,” Caleb said. “But that doesn’t mean I feel attracted to you, or particularly want this interaction to be about our ‘relationship’ to one another.”
