Page 29 of Slow Heat
Pater reached for his cigarette case again, and this time Jason didn’t stop him. “Things grew very dark for us. The lulls between heats felt like living on borrowed time.” The jewel of fire at the tip of the cigarette flared brightly as he inhaled. “After, with each pregnancy, it got worse. I was at the mercy of doctors trying to figure out why I couldn’t carry to term. I was a science experiment to them. They tried all kinds of hormone shots, and pills, and tests. Your father was a ghost of himself. He didn’t want to try any longer, but…”
“But what?”
“But Grandpater Derak was determinedhehadn’t gone through the pain of birthing your father in vain. The last Sabel to carry on the family name and genes.” He sucked in more smoke and let it loose in a long stream. “Derak held me to the contract promising at least one live birth under threat of alerting the authorities. Then he tried to coerce your father to repudiate our contract and accept a surrogate after the fifth miscarriage. Your father never forgave him for the way he treated me.” Pater snorted. “Derak didn’t care for your father’s forgiveness anyway. He wanted what he wanted. He’d never been much of a parent.”
“Why did you never tell me before?” He’d known of their miscarriages and had guessed the emotional toll they’d taken, but he’d never heard a word of Grandpater’s ruthlessness. It amazed him to think the old man who’d happily filled his plate with extra slices of pie at the Autumn Nights holiday feasts had been a controlling monster.
“I didn’t want to taint our present with memories of unhappy times.”
“But now…?”
“Now I need to know that you understand what it is to be an omega in this world. You have a responsibility to someone, Jason. A real person. A man with dreams and loves, a past, and a present.” Pater stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette and turned to Jason urgently. “Promise me you’ll hold nothing against him. No past action, especially those relevant to his nature.” He took hold of Jason’s chin and forced him to meet his eye. “If we’re to entertain a contract with him, you must be able to hold this bargain with me.”
“I swear I won’t hold his past against him. No matter what.”
“Good.” Pater patted his cheek and let out a hard breath, a sound closer to a gasp than a sigh.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m tired.” He rose slowly, legs trembling. “I need to go rest in bed. Can I trust you not to dart across town again?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my sweet boy.” Pater ran soothing fingers through Jason’s hair. “You’re going to make a wonderful alpha for him.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so, love.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Are you allright? Did he hurt you?”
Rosen’s voice cut into the kitchen like a knife. He strode in with purpose, his nearly black hair piled high in a bun held into place with a stick, and his beige sweater bagged around the thighs of his tight, equally beige pants.
“Let me see you.” Yosef plowed in behind his younger lover, pinstriped shirt pressed, sleeves rolled up, and his white beard and hair trimmed neatly.
“Lo, it’s my strong, handsome, beta heroes to the rescue,” Vale said, laughing, returning to spreading butter over the two pieces of perfectly toasted bread he’d made for himself. “Don’t tell me I have to provide you with dinner as payment for this service? I’m all out of bread.”
“I should think not,” Yosef said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Rosen will cook. I still haven’t gotten over the last so-called sandwich you compiled for me.”
“The cheese was only slightly molded,” Vale murmured, sitting down at his mail-stacked table with his toast. “You could have scraped the green off and it would have been just fine.”
“It would have been just fine, he says,” Rosen scoffed, pushing past Vale and into his fridge. “You look him over, Yosef, while I check for the makings of a real dinner.”
“I’m all right. I promise.”
Yosef made him stand, though, and inspected him like he was a piece of furniture he was considering for purchase, looking for any nicks or scuffing in the finish. “He’s whole,” Yosef called out to Rosen. “How’s dinner look?”
“There’s frozen fish I can thaw and some sweet potatoes that aren’t entirely done in. They make for strange bedfellows, but it’s better than the pickles and chicken soup we had here last month.”
Yosef sighed, patting Vale all over again and then sitting down next to him. “We’d have stopped by the grocery on the way over if we weren’t so worried about you.”
“I told you on the phone I was fine,” Vale said calmly, offering half his toast to Yosef, who accepted and then looked it over for any mold before taking a bite.
“What is your alpha going to think of your terrible housekeeping?” Yosef asked, gazing around at the crumb-strewn counters and the bags of garbage by the door—at least a week’s worth that Vale had forgotten to take out to the curb.
“He’s apparently swimming in a trust fund of cash, according to Rory. If he’s offended, he can afford to hire it out.”
