Page 39 of Broken Heat
I offered him the snacks I’d stocked, and we sat together with the blanket over both of us and ate in bed like lovers.
Sani and I had never eaten in bed. During his heats and my ruts, we’d take breaks when he was calm. We’d order food and eat on the couch watching mindless TV. Then we’d go into the bedroom and sate our needs.
I’d always known we weren’t real lovers. We never connected and cuddled. We had some great sex, but our compatibility level did not extend to anything more serious. We were the type of friends who searched online for boyfriends for each other, and who took turns playing wingman at bars and other social events.
I still missed him. I never thought we’d separate so completely even when one of us succeeded at finding a mate.
I glanced over to see Elon had fallen back to sleep half sitting up, half leaning against me. He looked worn out and uncomfortable, so I settled him in the bed and pulled the blanket over him.
Glancing at my phone, I saw it was quite late. I hated to leave him, but we both needed our sleep. I surmised our therapy sessions tomorrow were going to be quite active.
Walking out his bedroom door caused an ache to form just above my stomach. I told myself it was the snacks. It wasn’t good for me to eat this late at night.
Walking back to the barracks, I watched a veil of clouds cover the half-moon that shone overhead. This late, no one was about. Even the omegas in heat had to sleep sometimes.
The air was thick with dew. I smelled rain on the breeze, but that was usual. Sometimes storms swept right by the island like angry wolf packs, never leaving a drop of rain. The regular monsoons were predictable, though. 4 a.m. and 4 p.m. like clockwork.
My mind was in a deep fog. I wasn’t thinking of my job, but about how beautiful the leaves were in the glazy moonlight, and how the grass of the park looked blue in the deeper shadows. Everything was the same but seemed different. The strings of lights along the gazebos and tennis courts were brighter than normal. The ocean made a distant, soft shush-shush-shush, like a new wind pushing through palm fronds. It dangled its fragrance on the air like salt and sour mixed, what I liked to call the tequila of high tide.
I felt drunk. That was it. I’d over-extended. I was exhausted. I was missing—someone. Sani? Elon? I wasn’t sure.
Maybe I should have stayed over with Elon.
I entered my apartment and fell into my bed. I mourned that I was alone for about thirty seconds before falling into a deep sleep.
13
Elon –Anatomy 101
Ithought I might be going a little crazy, running the pillows Mykel had used all over my chest and thighs, burying my face in them. Hunting, nuzzling, nosing for any scent of him.
I woke with my cock hard and desire flaming. I knew what a heat was and this wasn’t it. But I’d never been this horny in over three years. I took it as a good sign.
I admit I was a little disappointed that Mykel had left in the night. It was, of course, the polite thing to do. I’d fallen asleep. He’d made sure I was covered and clean and fed, and then he’d gone to his own bed to get some sleep. It was fair and right.
And so wrong, too.
It was like my skin hungered for him. Shouldn’t he know that?
I thought he should. But I was being selfish. He had been going through issues himself. He’d been impotent with two patients. If I was too needy with him, would he be overwhelmed?
Coah used to hate it when I got too handsy. When I wanted to feel him and touch him and have his weight on me. When I wanted him to hold me.
But Mykel had held me as if it was a natural act. I had needed that comfort. That pressure of arms around me from someone I knew was there just for me because I needed it and nothing more.
Yes, selfish. It was what Coah had tried to train out of me.
I got up and took a long cool shower. It was still somewhat early. I’d only gotten about five hours of sleep.
Anticipating more invasive therapy today, I used another douche even though Mykel told me it wasn’t necessary. I wanted to be perfect.
I contorted myself in front of the mirror to check my hole to make sure I was sufficiently groomed and the bleached area around the rim was still the same tone as my cheeks and soft to the touch.
Satisfied, I combed my hair back with a little gel—not too much—and put on a pale pink kimono, belted with nothing underneath.
My body burned, but it wasn’t for mating. It was for Mykel. I confess that after I made my coffee, I kept going to the front window and looking out, looking for him. My phone remained silent.
I’d learned control and patience from Coah. Utter fucking patience. It was the worst, but I could endure.
