Page 47

“It’s stroking my brain,” Pember continued. “You were doing it in the night. I-it feels really good, and I—oh, fuck—” The words turned breathy, and his wet pink tongue came out to lick his lower lip. “Blake I… I’m going into heat.”

Blake stilled. “Yeah.”

There was a moment where they both held their breath, and Blake could practically hear the cogs in Pember’s brain working. Like he was strategising his next move in a game of chess.

But then, his body stiffened and the seductive scent took on a sharper edge. Pember gently placed the glass on the draining board. His hand was shaking a little, which could have been mistaken for arousal, but the way his eyes darted around the room suggested something else entirely.

Anxiety .

Blake tensed, the haze of lust melting away in the face of Pember’s unease.

Unease because of me.

It was difficult to disentangle his brain from the blanket of desire, but, letting out a long breath, Blake removed his hand from Pember’s arse and detached the other from the countertop.

He lingered behind him for a moment, eyes drifting shut as he took one more long inhale of his hair. Then, he stepped back.

Tension was written in every line of Pember’s body.

His back, his shoulders, his arms. Even as he turned, the rigidity in his jaw was at odds with the flush of his skin.

The animal part of Blake only registered the biological tells—Pember’s dilated pupils, the way his lips darkened, how his shorts strained over his engorged cock.

But that was the omega part of him. The Pember part, the part Blake cared about the most, looked worried as hell.

“It’s okay,” Blake whispered, slowly backing away. “It’s okay, Pem. I’ll—you?—”

The back of Blake’s legs bumped something, and he almost fell backwards into Val’s glass coffee table. Realising he was still standing between Pember and the front door, he quickly rerouted to hover next to the fireplace.

“Can I do anything?” He mentally berated himself. “I mean, do you need anything?”

Pember was staring at him with a strange expression, a sort of despondency that did not seem to be situated within the present. It was the same look he’d had when they first met.

Pember blinked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Straightening his clothes, he shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said, giving Blake a tight smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Blake frowned. He was speaking in the same way he did at work. Clipped, weirdly formal, and not at all like the teasing, softly spoken patter that Blake was used to.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Anyway, I’ll just—” Pember moved around the kitchen table, collecting his phone and his house keys as he drifted towards the door. He glanced at the sofa, then at Blake, before quickly grabbing the knitted blanket that they’d shared in the night and walking out the door.

Blake’s nostrils flared when it clicked shut, and it was taking all of his strength not to fly out of the house after him. “ Fuck .”

Blake was pacing. Badly. He’d just about managed to give instructions to the doctor before stalking back to his own house, cleaning his teeth and getting dressed in a navy blue suit.

Straightening his tie, he returned to his kitchen and stared out the back window.

He wanted to check the perimeter of the houses.

Make sure nothing and no one was hanging around.

In fact, he wanted to camp outside Pember’s front door and piss on every corner of the building.

His wolf knew why.

“Bollocks,” he said, grinding his teeth.

In the quarter of an hour since leaving Val’s, a whole plethora of thoughts and scenarios had entered his head.

His rational brain knew that it was totally reasonable, and probably sensible, for Pember to want to deal with his heat in his own way.

The animal, meathead alpha side wanted to rip the door off the hinges and tear his clothes off.

The self-absorbed part of his brain glanced at the pill box next to the fridge and thought, Is it any fucking wonder he doesn’t want you?

Blake was seven years older, a divorcee, and despite being in excellent physical condition, he could still drop dead at any moment.

Who the fuck wanted that lingering over them?

Groaning, Blake scrubbed a hand through his hair. He really needed to head into work. There were so many enquiries to be made, and he didn’t trust Mark to divvy out the jobs.

However, there was no way in hell he’d be able to concentrate in his current state, so, against his better judgement, he did something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

He called his parents.

Scrolling through his contacts, he tapped on the photograph of his omega father as he cuddled George in a tiny elf hat. Christmas 2022, when he and Rebecca were still together. She didn’t attend Christmas dinner, said something about an emergency at work.

In hindsight, Blake realised it had been utter bollocks and she was most definitely visiting her bit on the side.

She was an architect—of course she didn’t fucking work on Christmas Day.

But, Blake had been so wrapped up in his own work that he’d barely given it a second thought.

Or perhaps he simply hadn’t wanted to believe it.

The dial tone connected after only two rings.

“Blake? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Blake winced at the sound of his omega father’s voice. His tone had dropped in the year since they’d spoken properly, making him sound much older. Their infrequent conversations always started the same—his dad assuming the worst, and Blake feeling like an absolute piece of shit because of it.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, leaning against the back door. “How’ve you been?”

His father let out a breath. “I’m good, baby. Has something happened?”

Blake grimaced. “No. Nothing’s happened, I just…”

Need some advice? Feel terrible about not seeing you for over a year? I’m so highly strung right now I need someone to talk me down?

“I wondered if you wanted to… catch up sometime. I, uh—” Shit, why was talking suddenly so difficult? “Sorry, I’ll leave you be. I know you’ve got a lot on?—”

“Baby, what’s wrong? Has something happened with your?—”

“The heart’s fine, Dad.” Although that wasn’t strictly true at that current moment in time. “Honestly, everything’s fine.” His voice cracked at the end, which most definitely indicated that everything was not fine.

He could hear his father breathing heavily through the phone.

“How’s Pops?” he said, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. “Is he still managing that massive consultancy firm?”

His father huffed out a laugh. “Of course. Doesn’t bloody stop, like you. Baby, you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Blake was rapidly beginning to regret calling. “Dinner?” he said, trying to deflect the conversation even further away from what a shit son he’d been over the last year.

Scratch that, his whole fucking life.

“You come here, yeah? You still haven’t seen the new place.”

There was a pause, followed by a rustling noise. “Blake.” His alpha father’s voice ricocheted up his spine. It never failed to make him tense. “What’ve you done now?”

Blake gritted his teeth. “Hi, Pops.”

“Blake’s invited us for dinner at his new place,” his omega father said. The hope in his voice made Blake’s chest ache.

“Has he really? Well, colour me surprised, it’s not like it’s been over a fucking year.”

“Eli!” his omega father growled.

“What? He never bloody calls, never replies to texts, then just rings us one day out of the blue. Forgive me, Greg, if I’m a little bit fucking sceptical.”

Blake winced, because he couldn’t really argue with that.

“You lost your job or something?” his pops continued.

“No.”

“In debt?”

“No, Pops.”

“Got someone knocked up?”

“Jesus Christ, no. I called because it’s been too long, and I… I needed to talk to Dad about something.”

He heard his omega father squeal and snatch the phone away. “Yes? How can I help?”

Blake sighed and rubbed his temples. “I just wondered… how would one, hypothetically , go about helping an omega feel more comfortable during their heat? Platonically, I mean.”

There was a pause, one that was way longer than necessary. Eventually, his father let out a breath. “It’s hard to say. Everyone’s different, but for me it’d be dark chocolate and energy drinks. Maybe some cooling gel because my joints would always flare up, and ice packs for… you know.”

Blake snorted. “Right. Anything else?”

“I like scented candles and whale music, but that’s just me. The whale music drives your pops up the wall, mind you.”

Blake couldn’t help but laugh. His pops had a short fuse at the best of times, add animal sounds to the mix and it was likely to cause a brain aneurysm.

“So, this omega is a friend of yours?” his father continued.

Blake sighed. “Did I not just say hypothetically ?”

“Yes, but I doubt you’d sound so bashful about someone hypothetical.”

“Stop snooping, Gregory!” his alpha father snapped.

“I’m not snooping, I’m only—anyway, when would you like us?”

They tentatively made plans for a barbecue at the end of the month, his and his father’s work schedules permitting, before Blake hung up and slumped on the sofa.