Page 32 of Labor of Love

Zenith pulled his hands away from his face, looking so awed and relieved that Emre almost kissed him.

“Andthatis how these stories help.” Huxton dusted off his hands. “Always trust the sage advice of your butt-ler.”

“I still wouldn’t,” Zenith muttered. Huxton threw something shiny across the room; Zenith caught it in his fist. “Thanks.”

“My work here is done.” Huxton danced away. “Scribble Master’s consort, I’ll leave the baby pictures on the counter. Thank me when you move into the mansion.”

“The... mansion?” Emre glanced at Zenith, wide-eyed. “Don’t you live here?”

Zenith shrugged and looked abashed. “This is, ah, where I go to work on my books when I need to focus. There’s nothing here—no internet or TV, barely any clothes, food, or distractions. In fact... Here. This is for you.”

He took Emre’s hand, pressing the shiny thing into his palm.

It was a set of keys. One bronze, the rest a shiny silvery metal. They were all on a key ring connected to a short, beautifully stitched leather strap, and on the other end of the leather was a flat, stainless steel full moon, with all its craters etched in stunning detail.

“These are the keys to this apartment, and my lair,” Zenith said quietly. “You’re welcome in both places whenever you want.”

“You trust me?” Emre asked incredulously.

“I do.” Zenith gave him a warm, intimate smile. “We can just stay here for now, if the mansion is too much for you.”

Emre nodded. He was flabbergasted, and expecting the other shoe to drop. “Here’s fine.”

Zenith rumbled and hauled Emre onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Emre’s belly.

The pup kicked hard in Emre’s belly then, right against Zenith’s palm.

Zenith sucked in a sharp breath. “I felt that.”

“Yeah?” Emre’s chest filled with pride. “This will be a strong pup.”

“I can see that,” Zenith said hoarsely. He peered over Emre’s shoulder at his belly, his gaze so soft that Emre’s heart skipped.

“Yes,” Emre said breathlessly.

“Hmm? Yes to what?”

“This might sound crazy, but... I think I want you to be their Papa,” Emre admitted.

“Fuck.” Zenith buried his face against Emre’s neck, pulling him closer. “That’s—That’s a huge gift.”

“You’re giving me a gift, too,” Emre said, humbled.

Zenith breathed him in for a long while. He pressed a kiss to Emre’s neck, and laughed quietly. “I know it’s a little fast. But it feels right.”

It felt right in a way that Emre’s bonding never had with Ronald.

Emre almost wanted Ronald to see this; the way Zenith held him so gently, the way Zenith smiled at him like he was worth everything.

Except Ronald probably wouldn’t understand it at all.

He touched the recently healed wound on his neck, where he’d carefully sliced off Ronald’s bonding mark minutes after he’d run away, so Ronald wouldn’t be able to track him as easily. “I told you the wrong thing,” Emre admitted. “This scar is fromme. I had to cut Ronald’s bite off my skin. Wolves get a telepathic connection with other wolves when they bond; he was going to know where I went if I didn’t sever it.”

Zenith growled and caught Emre’s hand. Then he pressed a kiss to that pink scar, and nosed up to his ear. “When you’re ready, I’ll give you my mark.”

Emre shivered. “Okay. But I... I don’t even know what you are.”

“Oh,” Zenith said, his eyes growing wide. “I could show?—”

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