Milan looked up at Raphael when his heartbeat settled down enough for him to function, even though he was still shaking uncontrollably.
Raphael winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that all at once. It was just strange to have it closed.”
Milan shook his head. “Why…?”
“I know it wasn’t the truth. Milan—I could feel it. The bond. You…you have no idea how different it is from what I had with Jack—he doesn’t know, either. He’ll never know how this feels. You…I can sense you purely through it. No poem I have ever read could accurately describe the feeling of my heart interwoven with yours.”
Milan stared at Raphael for a moment before he started sobbing loudly, uncontrollably, choking wetly on every breath. “This is not a ploy. You believe me?” he managed to stutter out.
“How could I not?” Raphael said softly, pressing him close so Milan could bury his face in Raphael’s chest.
It took him a long time to calm down. He had truly believed what Jack had said. The future he imagined with Raphael—their dogs and their work and, eventually, the family they would create together—had disappeared forever. And what state would Raphael have been left in?
It made Milan sick to his stomach to even think about it.
Even when Raphael managed to get him upstairs and dressed for bed, Milan couldn’t stand to be far away from him, as if this were months ago, when the bond was still weak.
Milan practically lay on top of Raphael when they slipped under the sheets, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his chest move up and down. He buried his face in the crook of Raphael’s neck, letting his head fill with his scent.
“Who would win between Jack and I in a fight?” Raphael whispered teasingly.
Milan chuckled wetly. “You.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Milan gripped him tightly. There was no way he was letting Raphael go.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It didn’t even take that much effort. Turned out, a man as vicious and self-serving as Jack didn’t make many real friends.
Milan’s only regret, he mused as he and Raphael entered the solicitor’s office, was that he couldn’t bottle the stunned look on Jack’s face as they stepped in together. Milan restrained himself from giving Jack a smug smile. Instead, he barely looked his way, sitting down next to Raphael on the opposite side of the table from Jack. He couldn’t help but make a show of placing the file he had brought in front of him. Raphael threaded his fingers through Milan’s, making him look up at his husband and smile.
Who would win in a fight?
Their solicitor, Miss Claude, cleared her throat. “Welcome. As you all know, we’re here to clarify details of the allegations and suit brought against Lord Ledford by Mister Vipond.”
Jack’s solicitor, who introduced himself as Mister Sitwell, nodded. “Mister Vipond, if you will please bring forth your allegations, we will note them as witnessed testimony for the court.”
Jack seemed to have recuperated his composure and began amusing them all with a tale of fiction.
“I’m…I’m afraid this might shock you all,” he started, sounding like a weak little lamb. Milan stopped himself from snorting just in time. “But I do not bring these allegations because I want to, but because I have to. For Lord Ledford…is an abuser, and I fear Milan is in grave danger.”
“Oh, this should be entertaining.” Milan scoffed. Raphael squeezed his hand, and Milan settled down with a mutter.
Jack shook his head sadly. “There was a time I would not have admitted it either, Milan. But trust me—you can.”
He then began to spin a tall tale of all he had suffered from Raphael. How he had been controlling, violent, unpredictable—all the typical stereotypes that were assigned to Alphas. Milan threw Raphael looks throughout Jack’s little speech, but his face was set in stone as if not one of Jack’s words were piercing through.
“It has not only been me. I’m sorry to reveal your secrets, Milan, but—he was almost killed by Lord Ledford. I have proof here from a Dr. Fitch that Milan was suffering from symptoms of something called a neglected bond—Lord Ledford refused to take care of the bond when it was recently implemented, and watched Milan almost perish for it.”
That was the first time Raphael reacted—a simple stiffening of his shoulders, a twitch of his hand. Milan rubbed his thumb over Raphael’s knuckles soothingly.
“And so,” Jack finished, dabbing at his watery eyes. Oh, the production. “I feel like I must be repaid for my suffering, and that the world must know of Lord Ledford’s evil deeds.”
There was a moment of silence as Jack’s solicitor patted him on the back in comfort.
“Well,” Miss Claude said. “Those are quite serious allegations, Mister Vipond.”
Jack just sniffled theatrically.
“Do you have a defence, Lord Ledford?” she asked, turning to Raphael. Milan slid the file of papers to him smoothly.
“In fact, I do.” He opened the file. “Let’s start with the allegations of my abusive behaviour towards Mister Vipond. I’m afraid that the abuse went quite the other way. I do not need to go into details, however. Here are sworn statements—taken by the constable, Missus Lint—from Orson, my butler, Ingrid, my cook, and three other of my previous staff in employ when I was bonded to Mister Vipond, all alleging that he suffered no abuse from my hand, but that it was he with the venomous tongue.”
Jack blinked at the papers that had been slid over to each solicitor. Milan smiled slowly. By revealing his plan four nights ago at the ball, Jack had given them everything they needed to collect the exact proof that would bring him down.
“Here is a statement from our current doctor that although what Milan suffered was indeed a neglected bond, it was not purposely done by me. Furthermore, I have proof that Mister Vipond was extricating money illegally from the Ledford estate by colluding with my previous accountant, who is in custody as of yesterday. Here are the statements.”
At that, Jack’s face drained of all colour, but they weren’t done yet.
“As it should be obvious now, Jack has been trying to take advantage of the law by plotting with one Jason Clarke to have us killed if Milan did not agree to testify against me.”
Jack spluttered. “That’s preposterous. I would never—”
“We collected the correspondence Mister Clarke had between him and Mister Vipond, which outlines their plan quite clearly. You may speak to Mister Clarke yourselves, as he is also in custody.”
Jack got up quickly from his chair. “I don’t need to hear any more of this.” He collected his coat from the back of his chair and went to move towards the door, which took the opportunity to open dramatically.
Missus Lint stepped inside. “Mister Vipond. I have a warrant for your arrest.”
“What! No—this is absolutely—I will not—Mister Sitwell! Are you just going to sit there?”
“Ah…well…”
“No!” Jack cried, but his wailing was completely ineffective, as the constable was already dragging him away.
Milan’s heart was racing with triumph. “Well. I’m terribly famished after all that,” he said as Mister Sitwell sat, stunned.
Miss Claude, of course, had already known what was going to happen, although she wondered why the constable couldn’t simply arrest Mister Vipond at his rooms and have it over with without so much drama.
Obviously, she had no appreciation for theatre.
Raphael smiled, gathering his remaining papers and standing up. “Shall we have breakfast in town?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s get some pastries from the bakery.”
“We’ll have to hide them from Ingrid, lest she takes offence.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
Raphael smiled, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Milan could feel the gratitude and fondness through the bond, but it was shining from his eyes, too. “Shall we go, then?”
“Yes. There’s nothing el
se for us here.”
**********
It took a while for things to settle down again. Raphael remained jumpy, and although he did not turn away from Milan, he was more reserved, having nightmares at night that Milan would wake him from gently.
It was to be expected, however. Milan kept himself informed on the criminal proceedings against Jack and Jason and would relay the important information to Raphael, who did not want to be reminded of them often.
Despite all the trials they had gone through, Milan was happy. His days were filled with joy. He could not have asked for more.
Still, there were times when he wondered if all was well with Raphael. They sat side-by-side on the bed, each with a book in hand, but Milan could tell Raphael had barely turned a page in minutes.
Milan set his own book aside, turning to Raphael. “Is something on your mind? You’ve been very quiet today.”
Raphael looked at him, shaking his head with a little smile. “Yes. I was only thinking.”
“Care to share?”
Raphael paused, closing his own book and placing it on the nightstand. “I…yes.” Raphael clasped Milan’s hand. “Milan. I have put you through a lot. No, listen,” he said when Milan opened his mouth to interrupt. “I know you say it is all in the past—and it is—but I have. And yet, you have been so kind. You have been open and willing to know me at every turn and so now, now I must confess that I love you.”
Milan opened his mouth in shock. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known, deep down, but for Raphael to say it with that shining look in his eye was something completely different.
“I feel as if my soul has woken from a great, pained slumber,” Raphael went on, squeezing Milan’s hand tightly. “Not the flowers or the trees or the mountains can inspire within me the feeling that you do. I know that we are already bonded, but I ask of you now—if you are willing, I would like to be yours until my last breath.”
For a long moment, Milan could neither speak or move, staring at Raphael’s loving face and feeling as if his words had robbed him of the ability to breathe, before suddenly untangling his hand from Raphael’s and throwing his arms around him.
Raphael laughed a little at the impact of Milan’s body against his but squeezed him tightly as Milan straddled him.
“You oaf,” Milan said wetly. “You can’t just say that.” He pulled back and started kissing Raphael’s lips again and again, barely letting him respond. “Of course I want to spend my life with you. I…” he gave Raphael another kiss before pulling back and looking at him with watery eyes. “I love you so much. I’m so glad I’m yours—and that you are mine. I’m no poet, but…can you feel my heart?”
They looked at each other then, the bond thrumming between them, before coming together again. This time, the kiss lasted, their lips parting for each other, desperate to taste. Milan moaned as Raphael’s hands lowered to his ass and pulled him closer.
“You’re very bold today,” Milan teased breathlessly.
Raphael grinned. “Should I be shyer?”
“Not at all.” Milan rubbed their hardening cocks together through their night clothes, watching Raphael’s eyes flutter closed in pleasure before he pulled Milan closer again for a ravaging kiss.
Milan was already wet with want, his thoughts melting in the heat.
Milan was tumbled onto his back, his nightshirt pulled off before he made sure Raphael’s came off as well. They made quick work of their soft breeches until they were nude for each other, pressing together again.
Milan could barely kiss Raphael back at the feel of him rubbing against him, Raphael’s large cock sliding against his. He clutched at Raphael’s hair desperately, arching his back, moving in whatever way he could to gain some friction.
He wanted more.
When two fingers slipped into Milan, carefully but without ceremony, he moaned loudly, breaking the kiss to gulp air into his lungs.
“Yes—please. Please.” Milan writhed as Raphael immediately found the spot inside him that had him burning brightly. When Raphael leaned down to lick and tweak Milan’s nipples, he threaded his hand through Raphael’s hair, clinging on.
Not even that seemed enough to keep Raphael still as he lowered further until he was sucking one of Milan’s balls into his mouth.
Milan was trembling, moving to fill himself harder with Raphael’s fingers until Raphael was mouthing the tip of Milan’s dark, flushed cock.
Milan knew he was babbling incoherently, but he couldn’t seem to stop as wet, tight heat engulfed his cock, pleasure heating his muscles and his bones, making his thighs shake with the effort not to move.
The sight of Raphael bobbing up and down on his cock would stay with Milan forever—he was sure of it. Those pink lips stretched wide, his dark lashes long and fluttering, a little frown of concentration between his brows. Milan brushed Raphael’s hair from his forehead and Raphael looked up, those storm-blue eyes darker than night.
Milan almost came right then, but Raphael wasn’t done.
Milan whined as Raphael removed his mouth and fingers at the same time, but his protests were cut short as Raphael lifted Milan slightly by his ass, one hand wet with slick, and suddenly lapped slow and long at Milan’s hole.
Milan cried out again, writhing.
Raphael growled. “I knew you would taste good.”
Milan was hurled into madness. There were no thoughts, no anchors in reality except his burning body in Raphael’s hands, the tongue licking his rim and then pushing inside. It pumped slowly, reaching as far as it could before Raphael’s mouth would suck and bite there, transformed into a creature of hunger and want.
“Raphael. Please,” Milan moaned out desperately when he couldn’t take a moment more of the torture. His cock was aching and dripping, his brown skin glowing in the candlelight with sweat.
When Raphael didn’t move from pressing his head between Milan’s legs, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
He sat up, shoving a very surprised Raphael until he was the one on his back. He climbed on top, not being able to help stroking his husband’s cock a few times before holding it steady and lowering himself onto it.
Raphael’s long moan of pleasure was an echo of Milan’s own. Nothing could compare to that stretch and fullness. Milan stayed still for a moment, stuffed to the brim, Raphael’s hands gripping his hips tightly. Slowly, he began to move, relishing in the drag against his rim, the way slick dripped down onto Raphael’s balls, making everything wet and perfect.
But Milan was not a patient man. He began picking up the pace with the help of Raphael’s hands lifting him up and slamming him down, angling himself so that the pleasure inside him ripped through Milan with every thrust.
The open bond between them sang. It was bright, consuming them, their bodies and their souls inside each other. Milan could feel nothing but Raphael and his own pleasure until the light became too blinding—it burst, taking both of them with it.
Milan trembled and cried out as pleasure swept through him, Raphael groaning and filling him as he came too. By the time the orgasm had subsided, Milan could barely keep himself up, and he collapsed on Raphael’s sweaty chest, clenching around the softening cock inside him.
Raphael groaned in half protest, half pleasure. Milan smiled into his neck.
“During my next heat, we’ll have to stay like this for a while, your knot filling me up, tying us together.”
Raphael moaned again, his cock twitching feebly. “You’re going to kill me.”
Milan chuckled, lifting himself to kiss Raphael lightly on the lips, his cheekbone, his forehead, before shifting off Raphael, cock sliding out of him.
They curled around each other, limbs tangling, sweaty bodies a heap over the mess of covers on their bed.
“I’ll never miss another one of your heats. You must know that,” Raphael said quietly.
Milan leaned back slightly to smile at him, brushing his hands gently down Raphael’s cheek. “I know.”
Eventually, they managed to make it under the covers, forgoing clothes or even cleaning in favour of laying together, skin against skin. Raphael was a creature of warmth behind Milan, arm tight around him.
Milan let himself drift away, knowing he was safe, and loved, and exactly where he belonged.
FIN
A Note from Marina
Hello! Thank you so much for reading Honeythorn and taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed getting to know Milan and Raphael as much as I enjoyed writing about them.
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Summary
Dominic had lived with an empty ache inside him for as long as he could remember. Maybe it started when he was six, hiding beneath his blankets as the wild animal noises of one of mom’s parties echoed in his head. Maybe it began the first time an adult plied him with drinks just to watch him stumble about.
Or, maybe, it was that he couldn’t even imagine what being loved should feel like.
Drugs washed all that away. It didn’t cure the ache, but it made him forget it for a while. Anything was better than being conscious. Than being himself. But life had another hard lesson for him—with drugs, the only way is down.
Dominic hits rock bottom when he’s twenty-three. Turned out, rock bottom looked a lot like the bars of a jail cell. With hours upon hours with nothing but his own thoughts, Dominic had to decide: Is this what I want for the rest of my life?
The world had never been kind to Dominic, but when he meets the Romeros, he wondered if that was about to change. Officer Catalina Romero seemed to see something in Dominic that he was sure wasn’t there. The more she pulled him towards her family, however, the harder it was not to go.
Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega Page 19
