Slow Heat

by Leta Blake

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked.

  “It means we have a lot to work out,” Pater said, his voice cracking with exhaustion.

  “It means I’m not going to allow your future to be determined by the too-random hand of Fate.” Father’s blue eyes tightened piercingly.

  Pater glared at Father. “Stop. If you go down that path, you know where it will end up.”

  “What path?” Jason asked. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Son, you need to trust us. We’re your parents. We want what’s best for you.” Father leaned forward, brows quirked gently and voice urgent.

  “It’s all too soon for this conversation,” Pater said.

  “I’m not a fool, you know,” Jason said.

  “Of course you’re not. But Miner is right. It’s not time to talk about it now.” Father glanced at his watch. “I have to meet Jeft Mellors in twenty minutes. He’ll have the first batch of information for us to peruse. Then I’ll stop by the warehouses, see how things are going with the shipments.”

  Pater shrugged, his bony shoulders rising and falling tiredly.

  “That’s the detective you’ve hired?” Jason asked. “Jeft Mellors? He’s getting information about Vale?”

  Father frowned. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “You can’t leave me out of this. I already told you that’s the entire reason I left this morning, because I knew you’d do this to me. If you want me to behave, if you want me to act according to protocol, you can’t keep me in the dark.”

  Pater sighed and Father’s lips thinned.

  “You’ll show me what he brings you.” Jason dared to point a finger at his father and tried to sound older, ready for what was coming. “All of it.”

  Father rubbed at his temples. “Fine. It’s your right to know and your choice to make.”

  Jason narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Father was implying and what Pater didn’t like about it—he was suggesting Jason might take a surrogate in Vale’s stead.

  “Go then, Yule,” Pater said. “I’ll stay here with Jason. We’ll work on his guitar skills today. It’s been a while.”

  Jason groaned but didn’t complain more. He accepted Father’s hand in his hair and watched his parents kiss goodbye, then rose to get the acoustic guitar he’d graduated to once his hands had grown to adult size. He sat down again, this time on a stool near his pater’s sofa, turning the golden-wood instrument over in his hands. “Which piece should I start with?”

  Pater waved absently. “Something you won’t butcher too badly. My nerves won’t take it.”

  An hour later, Jason’s fingers were tired, and Pater was lying back on the sofa, arm over his eyes, listening instead of instructing. But he wasn’t smoking anymore, which was an improvement. It seemed a fair time to quit.

  “I’m done.” Jason rose and placed the guitar back in the stand.

  “You played better than usual.”

  Jason smiled softly. He’d closed his eyes and pretended that Vale was on the sofa instead of Pater. But he wasn’t going to admit that much. “Thank you.”

  “You were more focused. Any reason?”

  “I thought maybe Vale would like it. If I play well, I mean.”

  Pater smiled and sat up. “Maybe he will.”

  Four blue pills appeared from Pater’s pocket, and he handed the alpha quell to Jason. He downed them easily. The cool calmness seeped into him quickly, settling the renewed urges that he hadn’t even realized were growing in him.

  “I didn’t mean to scare him.” Jason sat down on the sofa, letting Pater drape a warm arm over his shoulders. “I didn’t plan to talk to him at all.”

  “What were you planning?”

  Jason’s ears burned. “I was going to, uh, look in the windows and, well, see if I could…I don’t know. I just wanted to know something about him.”

  “I understand.”

  “When he seemed scared, I tried to reassure him, but…”

  “I’m sorry I accused you earlier. I’d been entertaining horrible thoughts for over an hour, afraid the police would show up on our door saying you’d assaulted the poor man. It’s instinct. And imprinting is no laughing matter, love.”

  “I know. Did you know that he’s all alone in the world? His parents are dead.”

  “I see.” Pater frowned. “That will complicate our contracts. It’s not customary to deal directly with the omega. But in this situation, maybe that’s right. It’ll prepare us for things to come.”

  Jason’s mind went back to when he had stretched out his hand, vowing that Vale wasn’t alone in the world anymore. “I told him that I was his family now.”

  Pater laughed softly. “What did he say?”

  “He said I should go home.”

  Pater squeezed Jason’s shoulder. “Romantic declarations will be more welcome when things seem less uncertain.”

  “He didn’t hate me, though. He said I had a good heart and he thought, eventually, we could be good together.”

  That hadn’t been exactly what Vale had said, but Jason had to believe that was what he meant.

  “We’re going to make sure your future is good, okay? We’ll do everything in our power.”

  “Father’s already considering a surrogate.”

  Pater shook his head. “Shush. We aren’t going to discuss that now or, with any luck, ever.” He withdrew his arm but patted Jason’s knee and smiled, his lips wobbling. “But definitely not now. I’m too tired for it. I’m sorry.”

  “Your last heat was bad again?”

  “My heats grow more intense as I age. But it’s the pills that keep me from conceiving afterward that are the real problem.”

  It was slightly embarrassing to discuss this, but if he was going to be a good alpha to his own omega, he couldn’t shy away from these topics. “I don’t understand what you mean. In class they said alpha condoms should prevent unwanted—”

  Pater shuddered. “I hate them.”

  “But why? The professors said they don’t noticeably reduce pleasure for the omega, just keep them from getting pregnant.”

  Pater sneered. “Your professors leave out the fact that pleasure is about more than sensation. Instinct sees insemination as connection, as intimacy. Besides, I’m allergic to the government-approved condoms and the black-market ones are impossible to find anymore.” Pater’s eyes darkened. “They don’t actually want us to control births, you understand.”

  “I know, Pater.” He’d heard it hundreds of times when his pater had a little too much to drink and started ranting about omega rights.

  “If it was only for a single round, then I could manage. But by the fifth or sixth knot, I’m swollen and bleeding. After five days of multiple rounds of intercourse? Well, I’d probably tear and go septic.” He patted his pocket again, seeking the cigarettes, but Jason took his hand to still it.

  “It’s okay, Pater. You don’t need to smoke.”

  “You hate it,” he said apologetically. “I know. It’s a terrible habit.”

  “You only do it when you’re sad. Or scared. Or unhappy. And that’s not that often.”

  “Usually just around heats, yes?”

  Jason gripped his hand. “So when you say you take drugs to keep you from conceiving, you really mean that you’ve most likely already conceived and…”

  Pater shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. The most effective abortifacient drugs are very poisonous. They do their job, destroying any fertilized eggs, but they take a toll on the system. Using them consecutively, as I have to, means the poison builds up, tearing down my immunity to other illnesses. It’s why your father is so protective of me.”

  “But I thought taking those drugs for any reason was illegal?”

  “I think we can agree that some laws are better broken. I’d have died long ago otherwise.” He touched Jason’s hair. “And I couldn’t have that. You needed me.”

  “Father needed you, too.”

&nbs
p; “Of course.” Pater’s lips turned up fondly. “He’ll always need me. But I’m not sure how long I’ll continue to be lucky enough to be here for him. My health deteriorates every heat.”

  “Isn’t there a way to stop it? The heat, I mean?”

  “The suppressants have stopped working as I’ve aged and worse, they now often have the side effect of rebound heat.” He shuddered. “And unfortunately, our government cares more about birthing children than it does about omega health. There’s a surgery that could remove my womb, but it’s much more difficult to obtain than the abortifacient drugs I take.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Besides, after all these years of heat and union with your father, I don’t know what it would be like not to have it anymore. Would our bond be the same? Would we still connect on the level we do now? It’s too risky.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. This is our burden and I’m only sorry that our pain causes you to suffer, too.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.”

  Pater drew Jason close, his arms circling him. “But you’re not. This is a scary time for you. I wish I was stronger and we could hash out everything now, so you wouldn’t be so afraid.”

  “You can tell I’m afraid?”

  “All alphas are, love. Your father was shaking in his boots when he imprinted on me. Well, once the wonder was over and we were sweaty and relieved. I know you don’t want to hear about that.”

  “I really don’t.”

  “But afterward, he realized how much control I had over him, and it terrified him.” Pater laughed. “I remember he wanted to know if I was a particular fan of pot roast—because he loathes pot roast and was afraid I’d demand it nightly.”

  “Vale didn’t seem to expect my fear. He was surprised when I said I was scared.”

  Pater tilted his head, his smile softening. “Well, of course. Alphas don’t go crowing it around to the unbonded masses, and while it’s mentioned at Mont Juror they don’t dwell on it. I’m sure his own fears have crowded out that information, too. But yes, imprinting is a helluva thing. Consuming, and the need to be near your omega is compulsive.”

  “Will I wake up every day and want to go to him?”

  “Don’t you want to go to him now?”

  Beneath the alpha quell, he could feel it stirring. “Yeah.”

  “Welcome to the rest of your life.” He felt Pater’s thin throat constrict with a silent laugh.

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. No matter what choices you make.”

  “Even if I took a surrogate, I’d still want Vale?”

  “We’re not talking about surrogates.”

  It was clearly a sore spot and so Jason asked another question instead. “What was it like when you and Father first bonded?”

  Casting back, Pater’s face brightened. “Wonderful. We were a good match from the beginning.” Then his eyes dulled again, as an unhappy memory pushed forward. “Before the failure of the first pregnancy, anyway, everything about our lives was beautiful. We were happy. Devoted. In love.”

  “You still are.”

  “Yes, but it’s different now. Won through hardship and loss. In the early days it was pure and sweet, full of wonder and optimism.” He laughed bitterly. “We had no idea how very wrong things could go. We were delirious.”

  Jason knew it was a painful question, but he felt it was important to understand. “And after the first miscarriage?”

  Pater reached for his cigarette case again, and this time Jason didn’t stop him. “Things grew very dark for us. The lulls between heats felt like living on borrowed time.” The jewel of fire at the tip of the cigarette flared brightly as he inhaled. “After, with each pregnancy, it got worse. I was at the mercy of doctors trying to figure out why I couldn’t carry to term. I was a science experiment to them. They tried all kinds of hormone shots, and pills, and tests. Your father was a ghost of himself. He didn’t want to try any longer, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But Grandpater Derak was determined he hadn’t gone through the pain of birthing your father in vain. The last Sabel to carry on the family name and genes.” He sucked in more smoke and let it loose in a long stream. “Derak held me to the contract promising at least one live birth under threat of alerting the authorities. Then he tried to coerce your father to repudiate our contract and accept a surrogate after the fifth miscarriage. Your father never forgave him for the way he treated me.” Pater snorted. “Derak didn’t care for your father’s forgiveness anyway. He wanted what he wanted. He’d never been much of a parent.”

  “Why did you never tell me before?” He’d known of their miscarriages and had guessed the emotional toll they’d taken, but he’d never heard a word of Grandpater’s ruthlessness. It amazed him to think the old man who’d happily filled his plate with extra slices of pie at the Autumn Nights holiday feasts had been a controlling monster.

  “I didn’t want to taint our present with memories of unhappy times.”

  “But now…?”

  “Now I need to know that you understand what it is to be an omega in this world. You have a responsibility to someone, Jason. A real person. A man with dreams and loves, a past, and a present.” Pater stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette and turned to Jason urgently. “Promise me you’ll hold nothing against him. No past action, especially those relevant to his nature.” He took hold of Jason’s chin and forced him to meet his eye. “If we’re to entertain a contract with him, you must be able to hold this bargain with me.”

  “I swear I won’t hold his past against him. No matter what.”

  “Good.” Pater patted his cheek and let out a hard breath, a sound closer to a gasp than a sigh.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m tired.” He rose slowly, legs trembling. “I need to go rest in bed. Can I trust you not to dart across town again?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s my sweet boy.” Pater ran soothing fingers through Jason’s hair. “You’re going to make a wonderful alpha for him.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so, love.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  Rosen’s voice cut into the kitchen like a knife. He strode in with purpose, his nearly black hair piled high in a bun held into place with a stick, and his beige sweater bagged around the thighs of his tight, equally beige pants.

  “Let me see you.” Yosef plowed in behind his younger lover, pinstriped shirt pressed, sleeves rolled up, and his white beard and hair trimmed neatly.

  “Lo, it’s my strong, handsome, beta heroes to the rescue,” Vale said, laughing, returning to spreading butter over the two pieces of perfectly toasted bread he’d made for himself. “Don’t tell me I have to provide you with dinner as payment for this service? I’m all out of bread.”

  “I should think not,” Yosef said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Rosen will cook. I still haven’t gotten over the last so-called sandwich you compiled for me.”

  “The cheese was only slightly molded,” Vale murmured, sitting down at his mail-stacked table with his toast. “You could have scraped the green off and it would have been just fine.”

  “It would have been just fine, he says,” Rosen scoffed, pushing past Vale and into his fridge. “You look him over, Yosef, while I check for the makings of a real dinner.”

  “I’m all right. I promise.”

  Yosef made him stand, though, and inspected him like he was a piece of furniture he was considering for purchase, looking for any nicks or scuffing in the finish. “He’s whole,” Yosef called out to Rosen. “How’s dinner look?”

  “There’s frozen fish I can thaw and some sweet potatoes that aren’t entirely done in. They make for strange bedfellows, but it’s better than the pickles and chicken soup we had here last month.”

  Yosef sighed, patting Vale all over again and then sitting down next to him. “We’d have stopped by the grocery on the way ov
er if we weren’t so worried about you.”

  “I told you on the phone I was fine,” Vale said calmly, offering half his toast to Yosef, who accepted and then looked it over for any mold before taking a bite.

  “What is your alpha going to think of your terrible housekeeping?” Yosef asked, gazing around at the crumb-strewn counters and the bags of garbage by the door—at least a week’s worth that Vale had forgotten to take out to the curb.

  “He’s apparently swimming in a trust fund of cash, according to Rory. If he’s offended, he can afford to hire it out.”

  Vale didn’t mean to sound so blasé about the possibility of his alpha finding anything about him displeasing. He’d tried hard not to let it show when Jason had been standing outside his window lit by the sunlight like a glorious angel from the old times, but he wasn’t untouched by the primal need to please his alpha. It just manifested itself differently—in a need to provide him with pleasure.

  And unfortunately, a clean house was many a man’s pleasure.

  “Always too lost in your mind to care about things like taking out the trash,” Rosen said, running cool water over the fish. “He’ll appreciate your poetry, though. No doubt about that.”

  “Wolf-god, I hope not.”

  Yosef darted a glance over Vale’s head toward Rosen. Vale didn’t need to turn his head to know that Rosen was shooting a disapproving look his way, too.

  “I’m not going to endure the opinion of an uneducated child on my life’s work.”

  “So he’s really that young, then?”

  “Nineteen.”

  Rosen’s whistle echoed in the room as they all let the reality of the situation sink in.

  “Dear wolf-in-heaven. That’s—” Yosef took a final bite of the toast Vale had shared with him.

  “Awful?”

  “I was going to say unusual.”

  “It’s not unheard of,” Rosen offered. He cut the sweet potatoes into pieces and lined a cooking sheet that he’d brought to Vale’s house years ago and left in a concession that Vale was never going to buy one for himself.

  “He’s handsome.” Vale hoped he didn’t allow the true longing he felt to infuse his voice. Jason was young, but his jaw was cut, his chin dimpled, and his blue eyes were warm like the sea on a midsummer day. The swath of golden blond hair across his forehead was careless in the way of youth, and his smile, rare though it had been during their conversation, had stopped Vale’s heart with its shine.