Page 28 of The Devil's Mercy

Aodhan didn’t care either way.

“Look, some brotherly advice—though I’m not sure why I’ll bother,” Zane said. “This isn’t like everything else you’ve come across. Connects are an ancient species, with all the rules and regulations that come with being as old as creation itself. You can’t bulldoze your way through this one. A bond can’t be forced. You know this. You’ve experienced it.”

Yes, but by the time they’d gotten to that point, Aodhan had been more than willing to mate with Mercy. He’d even come to terms with what that would mean for their future, that they’d eventually have to add a third person to the mix.

Mercy had found him at a time when he’d been at his most vulnerable, and now, they’d discovered Calix at his lowest point. The formula was similar enough that it should work in their favor, and yet…

“I’m…nervous.” It took everything in him to admit that, even if just to his brother, but Aodhan clipped the words out. “He can’t refuse us. That can’t be an option.”

Because if Cal did, that meant Aodhan had put them at risk for nothing.

It would mean he’d have to remove the threat to everything they’d built…

“I won’t kill him,” he swore vehemently. “That means he only has one choice. Accept us, or—”

“If you won’t kill him,” Zane cut him off, “then he won’t die. Unless you’re planning on asking someone else to do the deed in your stead?”

“As if.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. It’s not really your style. Speaking of. How have things been going since you’ve lost the support of Lyra?”

Lyra Diar, the Imperial Heir of the Vitality throne. At least, she had been, up until a month ago when her trial had concluded she was guilty of running an illegal organ harvesting ring. She’d been stripped of her title and banished off planet.

“I’ll never underestimate you again, little brother.”

“Is that your way of telling me to stay out of it?”

Aodhan gave one last look at the restaurant across the street and moved away from the window. “You can relax. I don’t need Lyra to clean up after me. I never did. Now, let’s say our goodbyes, shall we? I’m late for lunch.”

Chapter 8:

“What’s this?” Titus entered the kitchen, eyes taking in the set table. He’d showered and changed into more comfortable clothing, the black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the gray t-shirt tight enough it showed off the length of his torso and the outline of his abs.

It was an outfit he knew his boyfriend was fond of, which was exactly why he’d chosen it, and when Aodhan moved toward him and took the towel he was using to dry his hair, he knew he’d made the right decision.

“Sit down,” Aodhan ordered, maneuvering him over to one of the chairs at the table. As soon as he had Titus in it, he started drying his hair for him, movements purposeful.

That was his doctor, single-minded and skilled at just about everything he wanted to be good at. The keyword beingwanted. He was also the most stubborn person Titus had ever come across, and that stubbornness had often caused problems that could have easily been avoided.

This was a delicate situation. Choosing a third and closing a pod weren’t light matters. Upsetting his Second in the process wouldn’t be worth it in the long run either. Titus didn’t just have to manage Cal right now. He needed to be sure to give Aodhanproper care and attention. Had to be sure the doctor never felt like he was falling behind or becoming unfavored.

Had to—

“Cut it out.” Aodhan shoved his head lightly, dropping the towel on the corner of the table before rounding it so Titus could see the scowl on his gorgeous face. “Or at least have the decency of cutting the link before you start thinking about all of my shortcomings.”

A regular Connect bond could be strong, but theirs…They were a perfect match in frequency, a rare thing to find.

And now Titus had found it twice.

“You’re perfect.” He reached out and linked their fingers. “You know that.”

“I don’t need you to stroke my ego,” Aodhan complained, though it was obvious he liked it, despite his objections. “Just eat.”

He scanned the table, noting the two types of dumplings in the center, and the three plates that had been carefully organized, as though the doctor were expecting their company to join them for a lovely evening meal.

As much as Aodhan claimed not to care about the Solaces, it was impossible for him to shake his upbringing. He refused to wear anything that wasn’t name brand—even when he was out playing with his knives—and his hair was always impeccably styled. It was the first thing he fixed after sex, as though a single strand out of place would harbor in the end of days or some other kind of travesty.

He liked to eat with all the bells and whistles in place: appropriate cutlery, fancy porcelain dishes, and food plated as though set to be photographed for a magazine. On the outside, he seemed carefree and charismatic, but in reality, he had his quirks same as the rest of them.

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