On the sofa, Weston shrugged to show he wasn’t sure what was wrong, either. He scribbled furiously in his notebook, likely adding to his report for the pack ledger. Keon left them and retreated along the hallway to his bedroom. He found Milo cross-legged in the centre of the bed, picking at his nails.
Keon shut the door, instantly the sole focus of Milo’s attention. “Did he agree?”
“He did.” Intrigued, Keon caught the flicker of panic fading into relief. Milo scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed them into his hair, shoulders relaxing as Keon made his way to sit on the bed. “He’s agreed to deliver your mother and sister within days.” He guessed Thatcher hoped for one last search for the book before surrendering the two people in his possession who could read it.
Milo stared, eyes wide, lips twitching with uncertainty. “Really?”
“Truly,” Keon promised, laughing when Milo lunged into his arms to hug him.
“Thank you,” he gushed, warming his heart, dropping the ‘Alpha’ with ease. When he pulled away, tears streaked his cheeks, eyes bright. “I’ll be a good mate, I promise. Faithful, loyal. I studied the Beta position, and I can help when Weston is busy, or if you need an alternative perspective.” Milo dragged his arms away and nibbled his bottom lip. “Not to imply your Beta is incapable,” he added, hesitation implying he expected to be scolded.
“Not in my pack,” Keon said aloud. “You don’t get to talk about yourself like you’re stupid or unwanted. The Alpha decides that,” he teased, glad Milo blushed. “Weston would appreciate having your help, when it’s needed. Now you’re officially my intended mate—per the successful courting period required by the Meskli—I can tell you a secret.” Keon waited a beat, leaning in to whisper, “I sent a team through the doorway to bring home those who had been banished.” Milo’s wide-eyed surprise was adorable. “One of those was Weston’s childhood sweetheart. Once he returns, I’ll convince Weston to take a break to be mated.”
Milo brushed at his cheeks, dislodging a lock of white hair over his eyes. “I’d be happy to take his place, when the time comes. I won’t be a burden to you.”
The promise wasn’t needed, but Keon was starting to realise Milo’s self-image had been badly beaten. It would take time to accept he’d never been a burden to be tolerated.
“You let me worry about that,” he replied, knowing it would never happen. “I wasn’t born to be Alpha, but it’s my responsibility to care for you. If having you as a mate becomes a burden to me, that’s a fault with me, not you,” he swore, believing any mate worth his position in the pack would agree.
Keon lay against the pillows and patted the space beside him. His heart stuttered when Milo shuffled into place without hesitation, laying his head on Keon’s shoulder. He didn’t ask, didn’t second-guess, but settled like the space was his. As though it was his to claim, as Keon was.
The thought made his heart ache in the best way.
Bringing an arm around Milo’s shoulders, Keon welcomed the proximity and cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about how this will work,” he said, laying a free hand on his stomach as he mentally ran through the list of issues. “Do you feel comfortable sleeping like we did last night, or do you want me to empty the study to give you a private space?”
Milo tipped his head. “I’m fine here, if you’re happy.”
Keon brushed the hair from his eyes, astounded such a sweet soul could think he was a burden. “Works for me,” he promised, refusing to make it a big deal. “As for your legs…it’s dangerous to send an injured m’weko through the doorway, but I can ask Doctor Robell to visit. He’s from Vihaan and can give you a proper examination, a real diagnosis, and decide if treatment could help. What do you think?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Don’t be silly.” Keon looked over Milo’s slim figure, and calculated the differences in their statures, deciding one more item should be added to his list. “You’ll need to settle for my clothes until your father returns with your belongings. Do you need anything specific?” he asked, as Weston had inches on Keon’s height and he didn’t know anyone as short as Milo whose clothes wouldn’t drown him.
Milo bit his lip and mumbled, “I don’t possess much.”
The words confirmed the awful theory Thatcher ruled his pack like a prison camp, eliminating every sense of freedom and self-expression. “I’m not surprised,” Keon admitted, adding the scrape of fingers across Milo’s shaved hair to reassure him. It was never easy to fight oppressors. The fact Milo had run away proved how brave he was. When it came to the wire, he’d asked for help when few in this world of social status and pack mentality could. “I’ll send a note to Robell. I’ve got a friend who can get clothes and necessities he can bring through,” he said, knowing Drew would take care of Milo, once he had his measurements and needs.
“Okay.”
“Mikha,” he said, using the ancient Vihaan word for ‘my home’, nuzzling his nose into luxuriously soft hair, “you’re mine. I’ll take care of you, give you whatever you need, what makes you happy, and enjoy watching you flourish.” The pet name might have been taking liberties, but he wanted Milo to know he was at home here, that Keon would care for him, share his life, and be a good, stable mate to him. After a lifetime of uncertainty and a lack of affection, he hoped to show Milo he was wanted.
Milo sighed against his neck, a delicate puff of breath. “It’ll take time to get used to you, Alpha Keon,” he murmured sleepily, as Keon’s fingers drifted over his neck, brushing into his hair. Tracing the light bruises on his neck, a memory of their first meeting. Milo pressed a hand to Keon’s chest to trace invisible patterns over his shirt. “You’re a gift from the Mother.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Keon
Two Days Later
KEON PACKED THElast bottle of water into the backpack and handed it to the guard, who walked away. He hated preparing for Farley’s departure after a short visit. He’d missed the old bugger, and it had been a relief to have him, when life was in flux.
The Meskli couldn’t stay forever, but letting him leave was like saying goodbye to family. He had no choice, and it would be months before his next visit. The consolation was knowing hewouldsee Farley. Unlike the rest of his family, Farley was well protected.
“Do you need anything else?” he checked, heading into the living room where Farley added his signature to Keon’s new laws.
“No, we’re set.” Farley paused to take a sip of scotch and signed the final document. “Done. Every law you created has been notarized and supported by the Meskli. Let them try to disobey you,” he said, winking in proof he knew he was rocking the boat, but didn’t care.
“I’ll miss you, you old bastard.”
