Page 67 of Omega's Fever

Home. The word settles warm in my chest. When did my apartment become home to him?

The drive back is quiet, both of us lost in thought. I’m already planning dinner—something simple, maybe pasta. We could open a bottle of wine and pretend we’re just a normal couple having a normal evening.

“Pizza,” Kellen says suddenly.

“Let’s order pizza. Watch something mindless on TV.” He glances at me, something soft in his expression. “Take a break from thinking about the case for one night.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. A warm flush of happiness floods me and I squeeze back.

Back at the apartment, I change into soft clothes while Kellen orders from the place down the street. When I emerge from the bedroom in worn sweatpants and an old law school t-shirt, he’s already claimed his spot on the couch, arm stretched along the back in clear invitation.

I hesitate for a heartbeat before settling against his side. His arm comes around me, careful and gentle, and I let myself melt into his warmth.

We take too long to pick a movie: both of us still unsure of the other’s preferences and trying to find something that we bothlike. In the end, we pick an action blockbuster, all explosions and improbable physics. I’m not really watching. Too aware of every point where our bodies touch, every breath that lifts his chest.

“It was thirty minutes,” he murmurs against my hair.

“For what?”

“Pizza.”

Right. Pizza. Food. Normal couple things.

The doorbell rings ten minutes later, startling us both. Kellen’s on his feet before I can blink, every line of his body alert.

“It’s early,” I say unnecessarily.

“Stay here.” He moves toward the door with that lethal grace, and I follow because of course I do. Can’t help myself when it comes to him.

He checks the peephole, then relaxes fractionally. But when he opens the door, it’s not the pizza delivery.

It’s Uncle Kenneth.

My stomach drops as my uncle pushes his way into the apartment, face flushed with indignation. He looks older than I remember, grayer. Smaller, somehow, especially with Kellen looming behind him. He looks at Kellen like something he needs to wipe off his shoe.

“Milo.” His voice cracks like a whip. “We need to talk. Alone.”

“No.” The word comes out steadier than I feel. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Kellen.”

Kenneth’s face darkens. “This is about family—”

“Kellen is family.”

The words hang in the air between us. Kenneth’s gaze darts to Kellen, who hasn’t moved from his position by the door.

“Milo,” Kenneth says and on the surface, he’s calm but there’s something new in his voice. Fear. He’s actually afraid of Kellen.

I glance over at my mate. I’ve got used to him now: his size, the tattoos, the broken nose and the scars. Yeah, he does look scary. If you didn’t know he was really a great big teddy bear.

“Milo,” Kenneth says again. “We need to talk about this. You know I have your best interests at heart and I am worried about you. You are ignoring my advice and that’s not going to go well for you.”

“Get out.”

The words come from Kellen, quiet but absolute. Kenneth actually takes a step back.

“You can’t just—”