Page 35 of Hell's Secret Omega

Cyrus is going to be sick.

“How could you do this to me?” He scrambles to the edge of the bed. He has to get out. The soothing words, the strong embrace, that rich gaze—they’re a trap. “I can’t be bonded to you. I can’t. I have to get rid of my vergis?—”

“Cyrus.” Mezor’s hands are on his calves. “Bright flame. Hush. Breathe.”

Mezor reels him back with ease. Cyrus wants to cry. He gulps stuttering breaths past the sharp blade of fear in his ribcage,kicking at Mezor. Then he’s engulfed, his nose pressed into Mezor’s chest. He digs his claws in as his throat squeezes shut.

“Breathe,” Mezor repeats, stern and calm. His chest rises and falls evenly under Cyrus’s claws.

“No!” Cyrus yelps, squirming.

In spite of his panic, Mezor’s grip calms him. He grimaces. His breath comes deeper. A thumb sweeps over the back of his neck, where his hairs are shorn close, and he can only let out a weak growl before his limbs melt.

“Stop that,” he whimpers. It has to be the bond. He’s not this pathetic.

Mezor’s thumb pauses. “Better?”

“No,” Cyrus growls again, but it’s a lie. His heartbeat still trembles but the panic is gone.

“I didn’t initiate the bond on purpose.” Mezor releases him.

Cyrus pulls back, sitting cross-legged. His mind works quickly. He’s already come to that conclusion. As soon as the words left his lips he knew. Why would a powerful being like the Hunter tie himself to someone like Cyrus for ever and ever?

“I’m not a pet.” He strokes the fur under his hand restlessly. “I can’t stay here. I…have other duties in the Court.”

“I know.” Mezor sits back on his heels.

The gentle glow of the vines reflect across his deep red skin to create vibrant colors. His gaze is warm and thoughtful. Cyrus’s head spins with the strangeness of it all. There’s a part of him—not small—that wants nothing more than to launch himself into Mezor’s arms again. He’s naked, sticky with seed, and exhausted. His vergis is eager to rub himself all over Mezor then fall asleep on him. But the other part of him, the part that’s schemed and worked for so many years, relying on only himself—that part rebels.

“How bad will it get?”

“We can be apart, but it will hurt.”

“I can handle pain,” Cyrus retorts immediately.

“Indeed,” Mezor rumbles, not a hint of doubt in his tone. Cyrus’s chest aches. How can he be so calm?

He digs his claws into the fur. “What else?”

“If we’re apart for too long, you’ll get sick. Until the bond stabilizes.” The huge hand on Cyrus’s calf twitches. “If you survived the bond sickness, the bond would break.If.”

“What about you?” Cyrus demands. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

“It doesn’t affect me like that.”

Of course not. Mezor isn’t like him, after all. He’s so much stronger.

“That’s unfair,” Cyrus mutters. “How long until the bond is stable?”

“I don’t know. But we can help it along. When a primus and vergis are a good match, the bond tends naturally toward stability.”

“And we’re like that. Matching.” The idea makes something deep down inside stir, but Cyrus ignores it. How could he possibly be on the same plane as someone like Mezor? It must be another cruel trick of fate. “Only mates are bonded. So does that mean we have to behave like mates?”

He hesitates. There’s one clear solution suddenly at the forefront of his mind. It must also be in Mezor’s thoughts, because there’s an answering smirk on his lips.

“We don’thaveto fuck. There are other ways.”

“It’s fine if we do,” Cyrus says quickly. He pushes through even as his cheeks blaze. “If you want to. It would help, wouldn’t it?”

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