Page 45 of Hell's Secret Omega

“Perfect,” he murmurs again.

Chapter 27

CYRUS

Cyrus dipsinto the stream to wash the seed from his chest and ready himself for his scent blocker again, while Mezor watches.

“The bond is stronger.” Cyrus pulls himself onto the shore and wipes the wet hair off his face, licking a rivulet of water from his lip. Now that Mezor is calmer, the storm of his frustration coalesces into phantom thoughts and feelings.

“It’s settling.” Mezor hums.

“I wasn’t pining or anything,” he blurts, suddenly, intensely embarrassed about his earlier words. “Before this, I mean.”

Mezor seems to see straight through his clumsy defense. “You were curious. It’s natural—you haven’t been around many primus.”

“I didn’t try to bond with you on purpose.” It feels important that he knows.

“I know.”

“But I don’t hate it.” He chews his lip, searching Mezor’s eyes for understanding.

“I know that, too.” Amusement darts across that deep gaze.

“Was it okay? What I said?”

Finally a smirk breaks over Mezor’s face. “Yes, darling. I enjoyed hearing that you’ve always thought about touching my body.”

Cyrus’s face heats. He drags his shirt over his head quickly. “Good!” he yelps.

“In here, where it’s safe, we play. You are my obedient vergis. I give you whatever you need. But the Court demands you walk a fine line. You didn’t ask for this to turn complicated,” Mezor says gently, turning Cyrus’s jumbled-up thoughts into orderly words.

Cyrus bursts free of his shirt collar. The way Mezor saysobedient vergisrouses a powerful urge to get to his knees. But that’s precisely the problem.

“I have to be careful and focused. If I’m caught…” He shivers. “But even so, I don’t—this isn’t?—”

He fumbles for the right words that won’t expose him.I want this, I need this, I crave this.He can’t need something that won’t last.

He yelps as a big hand sweeps him in, tucking him under Mezor’s arm. Mezor draws his head down.

“Hush. It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to make your time harder, either,” he mumbles into the broad chest.

A conspicuous silence fills the air as Mezor’s hand squeezes him. A tremulous emotion rings through the bond. Something about it feels important, but it slips through his fingers before he can name it.

“You couldn’t,” Mezor says.

The words seem to fill his chest, pushing out the oxygen to make room for themselves. He shuts his eyes as his heart pounds.

Cyrus takesone of Mezor’s shirts and hides it away in his nest. When he can’t go down to the grotto, he curls into his crack in the wall and sleeps with his face buried in Mezor’s scent.

Surely it doesn’t hurt anything. I only want to settle the bond faster.

Like Mezor said, it’s normal that he craves this closeness—it’s nothisdesire. It’s his vergis. When the bond is stable, they’ll break it.

Why does the thought have to be so painful, though?

Back in the Court, he runs himself ragged trying not to think about it. Between sleepless nights at the grotto, watching the tunnels, and helping the Grey Company ferret supplies out of the storerooms, he’s mercifully occupied. It makes up for the dwindling of his normal duties as the storerooms shrink.

---