Page 61 of Worthy Promises
Worth reached down and spread his fingers wide over Oliver’s perfect butt. “Have no worries, I’ll keep your modesty intact.”
“The sheet might be a more effective shield,” Oliver remarked.
Needing to taste him again, Worth lifted his chin, and he grinned as Oliver immediately kissed him softly. “Yes, but pulling the covers up isn’t nearly as fun as touching you.”
“Think of it as a temporary measure, since I have every intention of making love to you again before I let you sleep.”
Unbearably pleased with the man Fate had paired him with, Worth wondered if he’d ever be able to wipe the smile from his face again. “You drive a hard bargain, but I accept the terms of your offer.”
∞∞∞
A week later, Worth was in his bed with Oliver again. They were naked and sated, and the last thing he wanted was to drift off into sleep and miss a moment with the owl shifter who was tracing his fingers along the planes of Worth’s face. Although they spoke every day, their schedules didn’t allow nearly enough time together except on the weekends. Worth was already dreading tomorrow afternoon when he’d have to let Oliver go.
“What’s that sigh for?” Oliver asked.
Unaware that he’d made a sound, Worth didn’t bother to find a pretty lie or prevaricate. “I already miss you.”
“I know the feeling.”
Refusing to waste the hours he had with Oliver by being sad about their inevitable separation—which thankfully would only last until the following Friday—Worth lifted his chin, and Oliver immediately kissed him.
“Tell me about how you got into art.”
“My parents were obsessed with wealth,” Oliver replied, some of the light going out of his yellow gaze. “Impressing the right social circle meant everything to them. They’d both come from money but had never worked for it. Even when I was a little boy in our smaller home, there were great works of art on the walls. I remember so badly wanting to draw and paint. Despite my valiant efforts, I had no talent for it. I refused to allow that to keep me from appreciating the beauty created by others.”
“It hurts to think of a young Oliver trying his hand at something and considering himself not good enough for it.”
Oliver laughed and nipped Worth’s chin. “I was dreadful. As a grew older, I realized I could make a living acquiring and selling art. My parents, meanwhile, had this great big monstrosity of a house built. It drained the family coffers completely. At nineteen, my father told me they had no money. This was as they were preparing to have a ridiculously lavish party to impress the neighbors—without the money to pay the household staff. I’d barely started building a reputation for myself, which I had to do quietly since it would’ve embarrassed my parents to have a son in trade. Suddenly, I had to figure out my future and theirs. They never forgave me for selling that big ugly house. But the art they’d collected allowed us to have a more modest, but large, home upstate. That’s where Orion grew up. It’s where we live now. I don’t think either of us will miss it. Personally, I can’t wait to give up my name and become a D’Vaire.”
Worth’s eyebrows flew up. “I thought to hope for a hyphenated name. The last thing I expected from a man with successful art galleries across North America was for him to willingly change his surname—especially since his is splashed on his buildings.”
“The Toivonens I knew were frivolous and selfish. It’s not a legacy I want to continue. There’s no way I’d allow you to take their name.”
Brushing their lips together, Worth slid a hand up Oliver’s arm to soothe him. A little line had popped up between his brows even though he’d been relaxed fully after the great sex. The last thing Worth wanted was for past demons to follow him into slumber whenever they decided they’d had enough of each other and required some rest.
“I’m sorry such a burden was placed upon you. At nineteen, all I did was please myself.”
“How did your father feel about that?”
“He hated every moment of his gay son’s youth. Growing up without affection or love created a void in me, and I wanted to hurt him too. That’s why I refused to hide the things I did. I wanted him to get angry.”
“I’m glad he’s no longer a part of your life,” Oliver said, flicking a chunk of Worth’s long hair off his temple. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around what you told me about your mother.”
“Ismay? Apparently, she was a teenager when she had Aleksander. But centuries later, Drogo says she knew exactly what she was doing. Ismay returned to Court Ethelin to give Boian another son. She wasn’t invited a third time. Her first two sons were both weird dragons and far too powerful for Boian’s peace of mind. That’s why he got rid of us both.”
“What about the others?”
“What do you mean, Owlie?”
“If Drogo is right, and she willingly gave Boian a son for money, do you honestly think she wouldn’t have done that for others? Unless they were close and it was a favor to him?”
Worth had recalled Drogo mentioning the idea of other siblings, but he’d dismissed it, which was short-sighted of him. “Boian and Ismay weren’t close as far as I know. She was left to her own devices while Boian ran his court, I believe Drogo said,” Worth murmured. His mind belatedly spun with the possibility of other children handed to uncaring and cruel fathers.
“You’ve never spoken to her, right?”
“No, Aleksander and I aren’t looking for a mother,” Worth replied.
Oliver cupped Worth’s cheek and waited until they locked eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
