Slow Heat

by Leta Blake

  “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “I’m so happy I found you.”

  Vale brushed the hair out of Jason’s eyes and gazed up at him, seeking something.

  Suddenly, he hissed, and jerked on Jason’s exploring fingers. “Sorry, darling,” he whispered. “That’s tender there.”

  Jason frowned, tempted to touch the place again. It’d felt like a denser wall of less velvety-slick inside, a ridge that thickened deeper in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Scar tissue,” Vale said, burying his face in Jason’s neck. His beard tickled Jason’s sensitive skin when he shook his head and sighed heavily. “You’re right. We should clean up.”

  Jason tightened his grip on Vale, not removing his questing fingers. “How did you get it? Did someone hurt you?”

  Vale shuddered in Jason’s arms, his ass gripping against Jason’s fingers. “Yes.”

  “Who?” A thunderclap of rage splintered his tenderness. “What’s his name?”

  Vale gently pulled at Jason’s arm, dislodging his fingers, moaning at the loss. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

  Jason’s jaw tightened. Whoever had hurt Vale would pay. “My father’s private investigator could find him.”

  “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident.” Vale’s voice trembled, and he leaned against Jason for support. “Please. I can’t talk about this right now.”

  Jason kissed Vale’s pale neck, sucking a bright red mark at the tender juncture at his shoulder. “I don’t mind. You’re still perfect. I’ll be careful with you.”

  Vale made a sound close to a sob and then pulled out of Jason’s arms. He rose slowly, standing on shaking legs, and used Jason’s shoulders to hold himself up. “The shower’s upstairs. Help me get to it?”

  Jason stood, wishing he was twenty pounds heavier and muscular like Urho. He’d lift Vale up and carry him to the shower. Instead, he kept his arm around Vale’s waist and guided him, kissing his shoulder and forearm at nearly every step.

  Zephyr raced up the stairs and then lurked in the hallway before darting into the bedroom ahead of them with an outraged yowl.

  “Someone’s jealous.” Vale laughed tiredly. “She’d claimed you for herself.” He pointed at her as they entered the bedroom and rasped, “I told you he was mine, demon cat.”

  “She’s not a demon.”

  As if to prove him wrong, Zephyr jumped onto Vale’s dresser, knocked over a framed photo, pushed an empty mug to the carpet, and then yowled at them again like it was their fault.

  “She’s rotten,” Vale muttered, steps faltering. “But she keeps my butt warm at night, so I’ll keep her.”

  Jason laughed. “She what?”

  “I’m a stomach sleeper. She thinks my ass is a pillow. You can figure it out. I’m too exhausted to explain right now.”

  It turned out Vale’s room wasn’t the one with the lace curtains. Instead, his room was at the other end of the hallway, near the back of the house with a view of the garden. And there were no curtains at all, just dark shades that were halfway up, letting in the pale light of a fast-falling evening.

  Jason was going to be late to dinner. Not just dinner but to The Feast of the Expectant Wolf. Pater would be upset, and that meant Father would be angry. He darted a glance at Vale who had let go of him and was now holding himself up against the doorjamb to the bathroom.

  Jason took it all in quickly. There was a big bed in the middle of the room with a thick, decorative wooden headboard, carved with roses in bloom. The unmade bedclothes were plain, though: white sheets and a light brown comforter. Nothing patterned or ornate. There was a dust-covered matching chest of drawers with roses carved into the panels. A brown-and-cream round carpet lay across the exposed hardwood floor, along with puffs of silver hair that must have come from Zephyr. And lastly, there was a plush chair in the corner so covered with discarded clothing that Jason couldn’t begin to tell what color it was.

  “My friends weren’t exaggerating about my housekeeping skills. Or lack thereof,” Vale said, sagging against the doorframe and watching Jason carefully.

  “It smells like you in here.” Jason had to fight the urge to fling himself on the bed and roll around in eau de Vale. He tried to name the scent—mint, musk, and rose, and sweet skin, and slick—but there was something so delicious and indescribable in it that he finally gave up.

  His cock was interested again, though, and he shifted so that it hung more comfortably in his pants.

  “Youth,” Vale said, laughing softly and shaking his head.

  “You’ll appreciate it during heat.” Jason lifted his chin, trying to do what Urho had suggested. He wished the alpha quell wasn’t seeping out of his system. He needed that cool space to keep his head on straight enough to function. “When you’re begging for my dick again and I don’t need to shove you full of an unsatisfactory alpha dildo while I recover, you’ll be happy.”

  Vale’s chest flushed and his cheeks above his beard grew red again. His cock twitched, like it was making an effort to rise. “You need to leave,” he whispered. “Or else you need to fuck me on that bed. Make your choice. Do it now.”

  Jason growled gently at how Vale had wrangled the upper hand just like that. Now how as he supposed to get it back? “You’re covered in my come. I’ve marked you. You’re mine. Don’t get smart with me now.”

  Vale rubbed a hand over his beard, grimacing gently at the come stuck in it. “And your face looks like you just made out with a scrub brush.”

  Jason touched his own chin, only just becoming aware of the stinging, raw pain. “That beard’s a menace,” he muttered, and then grinned. “I like it. You’ll keep it. It’ll feel good in all sorts of interesting places. Like against my asshole.”

  Vale stared at him and gulped hard. Jason’s smile grew wider. There he was back on top again. Just the way he liked it.

  “There’s another bathroom in the hall,” Vale said, pointing toward the door they’d come through. “It has a shower. Mine just has a tub.”

  “We can shower together.”

  “No, if you stay longer, there’ll be problems with your parents. You’ll be late to your family’s feast as it is.”

  “Come with me to it. There’s no reason you can’t.”

  Vale sighed and pushed off the doorjamb. “Aside from the fact that I’m strung out on wanting you and unfit for company?”

  Jason’s heart waltzed happily. “Is that all that’s holding you back?”

  Vale ignored him. “Go on. Use the shower.” He groaned and wiped a hand over his face. “Your clothes are covered with come. I don’t think we have time to wash them.”

  “I’ll call my parents and say I’m having Feast of the Expectant Wolf here with you.”

  “Jason, no. That won’t win me any favor with your parents, especially your father. Not to mention, the alpha quell has to be nearly out of your system as it is.”

  “So? You were just begging me to fuck you on the bed here. Maybe I don’t need alpha quell anymore.”

  Vale frowned, looking away. Even that much disapproval cut into Jason like a knife. “Leave,” Vale said, firmly.

  “But you’re shaking. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  Vale smirked. “I’ll be okay. I’ve survived plenty of heats, after all. Just wait until you see me then. I’ll be shaking like a leaf.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered.

  Jason’s chest collapsed under the weight of joy. He could barely summon the breath to whisper, “So you will contract with me then?”

  Vale ducked his head, breaking his joy into an equal measure of fear. “Darling, we can’t discuss that now. Tomorrow we’ll meet with the lawyers and then we’ll see.” He pushed off the doorframe again and collapsed onto his bed in a heap. “Run the water for me, if you want to help.” Vale rolled around, smearing Jason’s come across the exposed sheets.

  It smelled so good. The evidence of the two of them mixed together. Jason’s heart sang with hope and his
cock twitched with renewed arousal. He went into the bathroom and started the tub running, before going back to the bedroom.

  Tomorrow would be the end of this waiting, and he could claim Vale as his own. Then they could live together in bliss in this dusty old house forever. Or for as long as Vale was happy here. Jason would learn everything about him, he’d discover what he loved, what he loathed, and he’d uncover things about Vale that annoyed him, made him roll his eyes the way Father did when Pater ranted about omega freedom groups, and he’d learn to love it all. Every last annoying habit and wonderful trait. It was going to be beautiful.

  Vale stretched out his long limbs like a cat, and Jason admired his sweetly concave belly dusted liberally with dark hair. The colorful tattoos on his arms beckoned to Jason like mysteries he could solve immediately, if he only asked just the right way. The tattoos appeared to be pink flowers, or maybe they were clouds, wolf-god’s face, a star, and perhaps a sun on one arm, and echoes of those themes on the other.

  “Your tattoos…”

  “Go,” Vale said, waving his fingers toward the open door.

  “But—”

  “The tattoos are a story for another time. You should go now.”

  “Not without a kiss goodbye.”

  Vale started to protest, clearly afraid of where it would lead, but Jason gripped his head firmly and kissed him hard. Vale melted and pulled Jason closer.

  Panting, Jason broke free. “Goodbye. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Vale released him but said nothing, falling back, still smelling of Jason’s come.

  Zephyr nearly tripped him as he left the messy house on Oak Avenue and headed home. Clearly, she didn’t really want him to leave.

  Alphas on the street sniffed and stared after him with gleaming amusement in their eyes, but Jason didn’t care. Let them think what they wanted. He’d made Vale Aman come again, and he’d fingered his ass, and he’d nearly extracted a promise that they would contract tomorrow.

  It didn’t matter that he was going to be late to The Feast of the Expectant Wolf, or that Pater was probably going to be smoking, or that Father was going to yell. It’d been a damn good day.

  Absolutely nothing could ruin it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dinner was strange.

  And it wasn’t because of the mélange of odors Jason was sporting when he got home. It wasn’t even because he’d been late. And it wasn’t because he’d violated protocols with Vale. No, he’d managed to dodge all those bullets so far.

  Both his parents had been holed up in Father’s study when he arrived, the scent of dinner nowhere in the air. Confused, but relieved not to be bombarded with questions and knowing eyes, he’d dashed upstairs to take some alpha quell before wallowing in the bliss of the combination of his and Vale’s aromas all over his clothes and skin for a few minutes before showering.

  After the shower, and once he could think straight, he stuffed all but the shirt he’d been wearing into the new-fangled washing machine Father had bought several years back. He shoved the come-covered shirt under his pillow, hoping his parents would stay out of his room until he’d had a chance to enjoy it more.

  But then he’d arrived in the dining room and discovered that not only was there no feast, but there were no seasonal decorations. The Expectant Wolf candelabra Pater always put in the middle of the table wasn’t out. The arrangements were several days old and not as nearly nice as the ones they’d had for the feast last week when Vale had been a guest.

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. But when his parents had finally arrived in the dining room with only a strange variety of reheated leftovers to dish out from their nicest serving plates, the air had been so thick and tense that Jason hadn’t dared to ask what was going on for fear of hearing it was his fault.

  Surely all of this strangeness wasn’t just because of what he’d gotten up to at Vale’s? Obviously, there was no way to cover the marks on his chin, but a few kisses couldn’t bring on this kind of tension, could they? If his parents knew all they’d done, he supposed they might be angry enough to cause problems. But if so, where was the lecture? The yelling? The suggestions that Vale wasn’t suitable? All he had was this aching silence.

  Jason hoped if he was quiet enough, maybe they’d just let it go. After all, negotiations continued tomorrow, and if they went smoothly then it would all be a moot point.

  His stomach tensed. Negotiations.

  What if they’d uncovered something else about Vale? Something they didn’t like? What if they didn’t want to celebrate the feast because there wasn’t anything good to expect from the future after all? What if they were trying to figure out how to tell him that he couldn’t have Vale ever?

  He steeled himself and prepared to test the water with a question about the next day’s negotiations, but before he could, Father set aside his fork and met Jason’s gaze with a strange shadow in his eyes. “We should all eat dinner and then go to bed early. You’ll need to be well-rested and clear-headed in the morning, son.”

  “But it’s only eight o’clock.”

  Yes, it was late for dinner to have just begun, but too early to turn in for the night.

  “Pass the butter,” Pater said, his brows furrowed tightly. He hadn’t even dressed up for the occasion. He wore a soft-looking, loose sweater in grey, one of his least-favorite colors. Father, for his part, had at least put on his suit coat. Jason felt like an idiot in his usual feast night attire of a suit and tie. “Jason? The butter?” Pater snapped.

  “Right.” As he handed the red glass butter dish over, he frowned. Beneath the stale cigarette odor emanating from Pater, there was another scent, something strange and foreign. Sickness, maybe? It wasn’t Pater’s usual odor at all.

  Pater focused on Jason for the first time all evening and asked softly, “How was your day in Vale’s garden?”

  Father looked up from his hostile study of the leftover chicken and rice he was picking at. “Yes, did it all go well?”

  Jason’s mind quickly supplied him with the image of Vale on his knees, shirtless, tattoos on display, nipples tight in the cold air through the open window, and spattered all over with Jason’s come.

  “Yes. Everything went great.”

  Pater smiled at him, but it was brittle. “Oh?”

  “Mox and his crew finished the clearing out, and finished putting in the bulbs for spring. Vale seemed happy with it, too.” Not that Vale had said anything at all, actually. But he’d be happy with it when the blooms came in.

  Pater nodded and went back to pushing his food around.

  Jason took a bite of leftover shrimp and pasta and chewed thoughtfully, trying to suss out the source of the strange odor coming from Pater.

  “That’s good to hear, son,” Father said.

  “He’s a fan of roses,” Jason went on, warming to his subject. “So Mox thought it would be good to plant a few more beneath the windows of his study to allow the scent to drift in during summer. He’s going to head back over next week after he picks up a few rose bushes that are good for fall planting and get them put into the ground.”

  “That sounds very nice,” Pater said, trying for a smile again and failing. “I’m glad you had a good day there.”

  Jason darted a glance between his parents. They’d barely looked at each other through the entire meal. It was starting to scare him. “Are you feeling all right, Pater?”

  Father glared at Jason then, his blue eyes going cold with anger. “Enough,” he growled.

  Jason’s stomach shriveled, and his pulse raced. His father had never spoken to him like that in all his memory.

  Pater put his fork down and snarled at Father. “It’s not like he can’t smell it, Yule.”

  Father shook his head hard, pressing his lips tightly closed.

  Jason’s throat went dry. Silence reigned as they all pushed their food around on their plates. Finally, Jason whispered, “I do smell it.”

  “No!” Father shouted, banging o
n the table.

  “Yule, there’s no getting around it.”

  “He doesn’t need to know about this,” Father barked, shoving back from the table. He pointed at Pater. “Miner. In my study. Now.”

  But Pater just sat there, staring defiantly up at Father, his fingers clenched white against the stem of his fork.

  Jason’s food heaved in his stomach. His heart pounded. What had Pater done?

  Father gripped the back of his chair, his throat working convulsively.

  “What do you smell, Jason?” Pater asked finally, his voice deathly quiet.

  “Someone else mixed with your scent.” He dared a glance toward Father and then whispered, “Did you…but why would you…?” His throat clogged, and he sounded like a child. “You love Father.”

  Pater’s eyes glimmered with confusion before clearing. A strange, fragile smile broke on his face. “Oh, wolf-god, no. Oh, Jason, I would never.” He frowned up at Father. “See? This is why we have to tell him. He thinks I’ve had sex with another man.”

  Father yanked out his chair again and sat in it. With his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, the tension rolling off him was almost unbearable. Silence ruled the table again for a long time.

  Jason swallowed back another surge of his barely eaten dinner. “What is it, then?”

  “I’m pregnant,” Pater said grimly.

  “Oh.” Jason stared between his parents, his heart pounding. “But that’s dangerous for you. I thought you took medicines to stop that from happening.”

  “You told him about that, too?” Father lifted his head to stare at Pater in shock. “Wolf-god, Miner, he shouldn’t carry that burden.”

  Pater clattered his fork against his plate. “He’s going to be contracted soon enough. Possibly tomorrow, Yule. He needs to understand the burden all omegas carry. Whether you like it or not, he’s old enough to know the truth of our family.”