“You’re my mate, but that’s not all you are,” he said, needing Milo to understand. “If you want to help Weston when he needs it, I’m happy. If you want to do what Robell suggested and be a doctor to the pack, I’ll support you. I want you to be happy.” He freed one hand to catch Milo’s human-paintbrush. He tangled their fingers, fleeting and caressing, not wanting to stop his invisible creativity but to be included.
“I’d love to be useful,” Milo replied, blushing but disbelieving. Like he hadn’t dared to dream of more than being the mate to an Alpha. As if the position superseded his place as pack member and human being. “However, you should know—” He hesitated, and eye contact seemed to rip the words from him. “—I might never recover.”
“Did I ask you to?” Keon asked, curious if he’d inadvertently implied Milo should change. Milo shook his head, eyes clouded with surprise and confusion. “What was your diagnosis?”
Milo swallowed and sank to the grass, tucking his head against Keon’s shoulder. “Nerve damage in the lower extremities, a possible spinal injury, aggravated by a lack of medical care.” He rhymed off Doctor Robell’s diagnosis flawlessly. “I can walk short distances with assistance; the nerves in my legs and feet are badly affected; my hands lose their strength. I get headaches and vertigo, but most of the rest of me works fine,” he said, heaving a heavy sigh of conflicting emotions.
Leaning on his elbow, Keon gazed at Milo, brushing the hair from his eyes. He couldn’t find the words to explain what he felt. None of this was Milo’s fault; it didn’t make him incapable, or less worthy of a normal life than anyone else in the pack. His limitations—if he could never overcome them—didn’t mean he was a burden, unworthy of the Alpha’s love, or to stand beside him.
More than anything, they made him more worthy. Milo knew pain and suffering; he had seen, survived, and lived through real dictatorship. He understood being suppressed, hurt, and abandoned. Far from making him unwanted, it marked him abetterman, an ideal mate, and a bloody strong partner.
Milo nudged closer and nuzzled at his biceps. “I can’t do much.” He raised his gaze through long lashes. “But I can complete m’nuni.”
Cheeky pup.
Keon bent to nudge their noses. “Good to know,” he approved, though he would have found a way to give Milo pleasure. Not every sensual or pleasurable sensation took place below the waist.
Touching a fingertip to Milo’s chin, Keon tipped his head. The thought was fleeting. A temptation he hadn’t intended to surrender to. An urge he’d been fighting for days. The way Milo’s eyes caught his, bright and soft with affection, expecting, like he knew what Keon wanted and couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same, was hard to resist. The combination of fingers resting against his chest, unmoving, the shine to plump lips.
Their lips pressed in a kiss Keon belatedly realised he’d darted in to instigate. Milo’s eyes closed on contact, and he sighed dreamily. They traded delicate, lingering kisses, a bare brush of lips, and Keon lost track of time. All he knew was the tenderness of his kiss, the scrape of short hair over his fingers and Milo’s body pressed to his. Offering complete surrender, unending obedience, sharing his need freely.
No chaste kiss should leave him feeling shaken to his core, fundamentally changed. A space waiting for Milo to fit the right shape, the right scent, the right everything to fulfil the need. It took every ounce of will Keon possessed to stop. When the sunshine gave way to clouds, he was disorientated, unable to tell how long they’d been gone. All he knew was he may never kiss Milo without wanting more.
Staring with wide green eyes, Milo pressed close. His fingers twitched where he grasped at Keon’s shoulders, but teeth dragged over his bottom lip. “I’ve never—” Milo said, swallowing when words failed him.
“Yeah, me neither,” Keon confessed, unashamed when Milo cocked his head. Likely aware of the legacy Simeon had left, and afraid Keon shared his ideals or had given into temptation in Dnara. “Call me old-fashioned, but I was waiting for my mate.” He nudged Milo’s nose with his. “In Dnara, I tried to pretend I wasn’t. Thinking I could be like other guys my age, but I’m not built that way.”
Milo let his hand slip from Keon’s shoulder to wrap around his neck. “Could you do it again?”
Surrender was the only option, but he was afraid to push. Milo had time to change his mind, or grow the bond. Keon offered light, butterfly kisses, cupping Milo’s head to keep him close. Loving the scrape of short hair against his palm, a pleasant contrast to the soft skin brushing his and caressing lips. The taunt of drifting fingers across his chest as Milo moved closer.
Breaking the kisses to drop one on the tip of his nose, Keon took a breath. “I could get used to kissing you,” he whispered, hating the sensible side telling him to retreat and do this properly. Their chemistry was magnetic, and it would be easy to jump straight into bed, but he wanted more for their mating than a physical connection. Why base forever on the physical when they had this golden opportunity to build a deeper connection?
“I could get used to letting you.”
Keon gave his bare ass a teasing smack in warning. “I’m hoping you’d do more than let me,” he said, taking Milo’s arm from around his neck to kiss his fingers. “Besides, you’ll be busy working four jobs,” he admitted, nipping the tip of one finger as he waited for the penny to drop.
“Four?”
Keon kissed the tip of his index finger. “Resident doctor to the pack?” His lips grazed the pad of his middle finger. “?temporary Beta?” The ring finger. “?Alpha’s mate.” And nipped at his pinkie.
“The fourth?” Milo asked, eyes soft and languid with affection.
Keon returned to the beginning to close his lips around the thick tip of Milo’s thumb. “Keon’s boyfriend, lover, mate, and husband.” The most important role, in his mind, but he was biased when it came to Milo.
Milo kissed him, hand slipping from his to cup his neck and lightly tug his hair. He shook his head as green eyes clouded with sadness. “I told you to stop saying beautiful things.”
“Never.”
*
LOVE AND ATTENTIONstarved his whole life, it was Keon’s job to give Milo what he’d been missing. Which included a tender kiss to his lips, one to his jawline, and a nip to the bruise on his neck. “This isn’t healing.”
Milo buried his nose in Keon’s hair, his tone fond. “Good.”
His m’weko liked the mark as much as he did. Having Milo in his life would change everything, and if he was a test, Keon had failed. Spectacularly. But it didn’t matter. They’d survived years of prejudice and being treated like outcasts. It was time to be happy and free.
Keon pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the smooth, barely blemished skin, a light blue bruise beneath the surface, and Milo squirmed. He could have stayed forever, lavishing kisses on perfect skin, exploring if he tasted different to his tongue than he did to his lips. Retreating, he offered a safer nip to satisfy his inner m’weko and grazed teeth over Milo’s earlobe to inspire another delicious gasp.
