Page 135 of Alpha Heat
“Of course you would have, sir. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“How’s Janus?” Xan asked, pulling up a stool by the cook’s prep counter. The cook frowned at him, but didn’t stop arranging a heaping plate of food for Caleb. Xan’s belly rumbled, and the cook pulled out another plate and started to prepare it too. “Is Urho with him now?”
“Dr. Bainson has been here for the last hour. Dr. Chase had to shower after the delivery, but he’s consulting with the doctor now. Mr. Janus is…” Ren sighed, placed the tray in the sink to be washed, and dumped the contents of the bowl down the drain. “Not eating,” he finished, though his slumped shoulders and miserable tone said so much more.
“He’s doing worse then?”
“Mr. Heelies, he’s a very sick man.”
Xan swallowed hard and gazed past the cook out the kitchen window to vegetable gardens recently planted there. The afternoon sun—had he spent the whole day with Caleb? No wonder he was so tired!—shone on the fresh plants. He didn’t know what to do with the news. And he knew so little about his cousin that he didn’t know what he’d evenwant. Would he want a priest from the Holy Order of Wolf, or would he prefer to die unblessed? Was it even time to think about such things?
He snatched a carrot from the cook and chomped it thoughtfully. “I should go see him.”
“Not now!” Ren exclaimed. “You can’t risk carrying any sickness back to Mr. Riggs. You should wait until after the heat.”
Xan opened his mouth to ask what the chances were that Janus would make it through the heat when he was interrupted.
“What happened to your face?” Urho’s voice came sternly through the open kitchen door. Xan caught his breath as his lover walked into the kitchen, strong shoulders back, fresh suit unwrinkled, and his dark skin burnished by the rosy afternoon light from the kitchen windows. The salt-and-pepper of Urho’s hair shimmered in the sun, and the smatter of wrinkles by his eyes crinkled reassuringly.
Xan’s heart squeezed with joy. Urho looked like everything Xan needed to make it through the day—and everything he needed for the rest of his life. Here was the man Xan had probably thrown away his inheritance for, and Urho was worth every last cent.
Xan’s stomach fluttered, and he glanced up from beneath his lashes. His reply caught on his tongue. He didn’t know what had happened here at the house in his absence, and he didn’t know how to explain what had happened in the city. Especially in the short amount of time afforded them before Caleb’s next heat wave descended.
Urho stared at him intently. “You should be in bed.”
“It’s just a bruise. I’m fine.”
“I meant you should be in bed with Caleb.”
Xan flushed. He glanced toward the servants, and Ren excused himself from the room. The cook got busy finishing up the tray, making a show of humming under his breath.
“Caleb needed some food,” Xan said, his stomach grinding with both hunger and now worry. He gestured toward the delicious-smelling fare the cook was piling up, knowing he’d be lucky to get Caleb to eat even two bites of it. However, he thought he could demolish both plates entirely himself.
“I see.” Urho held himself tightly, his face carefully blank, and his eyes narrow.
Xan turned to the cook, who was piling fruit salad into bowls for the tray, and said, “That’s enough. Thank you.”
When Xan made to take the tray, Urho stepped forward and grabbed it from the cook’s hands. Following Urho out of the kitchen and into a private serving alcove just outside it, Xan’s gut churned. He hadn’t let himself think too much during his long drive about what he expected to find once he got home, but he’d definitely imagined his reunion with Urho quite a bit differently.
Urho placed the tray on the sideboard in the alcove and grabbed Xan roughly. His kiss was urgent, and Xan moaned into the shock of it. Urho’s hands mapped his body, sliding beneath his robe and awakening his skin and his lust. Just the glide of his hands over Xan’s nipples filled him with more desire than the sex with Caleb had or ever could.
When Urho released him, he gripped Xan’s face in both hands and stared into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I needed to touch you. In the kitchen, I almost couldn’t hold back.”
“The servants don’t care.”
“Rumors don’t care who start them either.”
Xan didn’t point out that they were currently only a doorway and a few steps from the cook, and that any of the other servants could come around the corner and spy them in each other’s arms. Truth be told, he didn’t care in the least.
Not anymore.
He didn’t want to live his life hiding—not in his home anyway. That was what he’d declared to his father, wasn’t it? And to Wilbet Monhundy? And he intended to stand by those declarations.
“I’m sorry about locking Caleb in.” Urho nuzzled Xan’s temple, scenting his hair. “I did the best I could, but it hurt my soul to do it.”
“I know. He knows too.”
“I don’t think I can ever look him in the eye again.”
