Milo focused his gaze on his finger, drawing shapes on Keon’s skin. “I know Icanask you to help, without feeling a burden or irritating you. Because you know I’d ask if I needed to, and you’d never make me feel useless for asking.” Milo traced his thumb over Keon’s bottom lip, shy and nervous. “You’re not my true mate, but I wish you were. It feels like you are.”
Keon nipped at Milo’s lips and licked, seeking permission, submission. Emerald eyes became hazy and sultry as Milo responded, a tentative touch of his tongue welcoming Keon’s exploration. They traded tongues, giving in to the chemistry brewing stronger with every day. Acknowledging they felt the same. This was the mating they wished the Fates had granted them.
Nothing had tasted sweeter.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Keon
Three Days Later
HE WAS SELFISH. Keon had never known it, but he jealously guarded and coveted time with Milo. Every touch, every flick of an agile tongue in his mouth, every accidental caress, had him clinging to Milo like an addict drowning in his personal drug of choice. The sharp inhale of breath as they kissed, trading tongues. The slow release as they broke apart, sucking in air like dying men. Hands cupping, grasping, scraping against bare skin. The way a kiss seemed to evaporate Milo’s nerves and made Keon forget every other responsibility but the man trapped in the moment with him.
Awful. Beautiful. Terrible. Wonderful.
His twenty-two-year-old hormones kicked his gut to shreds every time he and Milo slipped into bed at the end of the night, knowing he would need another hit—another kiss, another touch—before he could sleep. Only to wake hard as steel, shut in the shower for ages.
Selfish. Jealous of every moment Milo spent with anyone else. Frustrated from the intense sexual tension building, but never satisfied.
Today had been harder than most days. Milo had stayed home to study medical books, while Haley circled the young men of the pack, in clear view of where Keon sat outside the Pack-House, talking through plans with Weston. They were officially moving out, delaying their move until the Pack-House renovations were completed, and he wanted his Beta’s input on the final plans.
The work was a distraction, as Milo left the house and spoke to one of the guards, struggling to maintain his balance on his crutches. Keon’s nose had located his future mate, eyes locked on his unsteady gait. Not remotely problematic until Milo wobbled and the guard caught him. Placing his hands on Milo’s stomach, lingering longer than Keon thought necessary.
Rousing a wholly irrational jealousy he hadn’t anticipated.
When Weston congratulated him, he thought his Beta had gone crazy from the overload of paperwork. Except, Weston recognised his jealousy as a sign the mating bond had successfully transferred from Vega to Milo. Convinced it meant the bond was strong. The idea distracted Keon for the rest of the morning.
Returning home, he fought the jealousy with a reminder Milo hadn’t welcomed the innocent touch, and the guard was merely respectful, helping Milo steady his feet. It didn’t convince his m’weko, but human-Keon knew no one had stepped out of line. He tried to remain confident as he entered the house, shut the door, and walked into the living room.
Seeing Milo reading, Keon froze in the doorway and imagined how it would feel if anyone tempted him away. Not sure if Milo sensed the same bond, or if his bond with his true mate was intact, he couldn’t imagine a reasonable way to ask.
“Keon?”
Milo raised his head to welcome him home, warm gaze breaking his resolve. Keon shrugged off his jacket and strode to the sofa, step faltering with warm surprise when Milo set his book aside without slotting in a bookmark, not caring when it fell off the edge of the sofa to the floor.
He waited, watching Keon stalk him like prey, pushing close to the sofa to capture his head in one hand. He didn’t waste breath, kissing Milo and sucking air greedily when Milo caught his neck and arched to meet him halfway. In seconds, Keon had Milo’s tongue in his mouth, eyes rolling with pleasure as he climbed onto the sofa to straddle him. Part of him wanted to rip their clothes off and let Milo take him, but it wasn’t time. They should wait for their mating. For m’nuni.
“I want,” he panted, between breaths, “you bad.” He moaned as Milo scraped fingernails across the crown of his head.
Milo whimpered and broke the kiss to pant heavily. “Why is this difficult to fight?” he asked, nuzzling into his neck, fighting the urge better than Keon could.
“Weston thinks the mate bond has shifted,” he whispered to preserve breath. “This is how it is between two true mates.” He could barely focus on anything but Milo. Dirty, terrible thoughts that made his pulse race. Thoughts that made him ache. Tormenting him every minute.
Milo raised his head and offered a kiss. “How does anyone get anything done, if this is what a true mate bond is like?” he asked, smiling with such warmth it lit a fire inside Keon.
“No idea.” Keon took another deep kiss and reluctantly retreated. “It’s best we’re not alone. We should avoid convenient surfaces,” he said, wanting more than a frantic tumble where it didn’t mean anything other than fulfilling the urge of hormones.
“Like sofas, coffee tables,” Milo added in a whisper, plucking a kiss from his lips. “Dining tables. Walls. Beds.”
Mother, he wanted to surrender. To let Milo pin him to every single surface. For Milo to press him to the wall, bend him over the dining table, shove him onto the bed. Keon licked his lips to check he wasn’t drooling, swallowed around his dry mouth, and backed away. Standing, he cleared his throat and tugged his T-shirt into place. “Right. All those places.” He held a hand out, Milo’s eyes softening with affection.
Taking his hand, Milo gripped Keon’s forearm and let him tug him off the sofa to his feet. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, pressing a hand to Keon’s chest. “I need more practice on my crutches.”
“Sure.” Keon was proud of him for admitting it, when he hated his instability. “Haley was supposed to be here,” he realised, at the last second.
Twisting, using his grip on Keon’s arm for support, Milo snorted as he grabbed his crutches from where they rested against the sofa. “She came in, changed her outfit, grabbed a piece of fruit, and left without a single grunt. She’s mad at me for grounding her. Claims she’s missed days ofstuff.” Milo shrugged it off as unimportant, stabilising the crutches as he shuffled to step closer. “She’ll get over it,” he promised, tipping his head adorably.
Unable to resist, Keon kissed Milo. “Next time, let me be the bad guy. I don’t care if she hates me or gives me the silent treatment. She can’t push me,” he advised, wrapping his arms around Milo’s waist. “I hate seeing you trapped in here. She’s supposed to be with you, but she keeps buggering off to flirt with boys. I’m sick of coming home to find you abandoned,” he argued, because it wasn’t Milo’s fault. He loved his sister and Keon knew it was hard to be stern with her, but she was taking liberties.
