Kirion hesitated, then took a step toward the door.
“Don’t you move,” Malin hissed.
Kirion froze but did not look back.
I countered. “You heard me, Kirion. Go on downstairs.”
He took a couple more steps past me and to the door. Malin’s hands were fists.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
I turned away from my disappointment of a son. Before I closed the door, I said, “By the way, you said you didn’t want him. We never signed the papers. So, he’s not yours.”
“Does that mean he’s yours, then?”
“For now.”
I heard Malin huff and start to respond but I’d already closed the door. His words were muffled. Whatever he wanted me to hear was no longer my concern.
Kirion didn’t look at me. He waited for me to lead the way downstairs. He followed quietly, calmly. I was certain he was anything but calm.
I took the blame for Malin. After Rupert, Malin’s omega father died things changed. Of the two of us, Rupert was the one Malin had bonded closest to. Malin had been only ten. For those first years he had au pairs and Rupert at his beck and call. He was home schooled and seemed to love everyone and everything. Losing all that changed him. I tried to be there for him and everything he was going through, but my bond was injured. I was in bad shape. A lot of those first couple years were a blur and an all-out focus on work. Some nights I never came home.
My young son pulled away. Then begged to be sent away to school. Away from the house where the ghostly scents of his favorite father still remained. I didn’t know how to show my empathy except by showering him with gifts and anything else he asked for. He said he wanted to leave so I sent him away. To the best schools. The most exotic locales. I gave him endless expense accounts. Paid for lavish accommodations. It was the only way to soften my guilt. And my own pain.
That had been years ago. My grief had since faded. Sometimes I couldn’t remember what Rupert even looked like. But I still had Malin. And though he was grown now, I felt obligated to him. As a father, that feeling never went away. I had been in that mindset when I’d applied for Rohan’s son and was quickly invited to the auction. A mindset that did neither of us any favors. Malin didn’t want to listen to anything I had to say. And I couldn’t fix it.
Over the last couple of days, I’d come to terms that nothing I tried would heal our father/son bond, and Kirion would never go to Malin. I figured it wouldn’t be a problem since he showed no interest in the set. I’d already decided Kirion could live here free and clear. He needed respite from his fate and I had the space and the money to keep him with the lifestyle in which he was raised. Not as a second son. No. But maybe a ward?
I didn’t know. He certainly gave me pause. My attraction to him, for one thing. But I could deal with that. Turn that part of myself off. Dare I think eventually we might be friends? Even nightly dinner companions?
I longed for that. Not another mate. That hadn’t been on my mind. But just someone around. Someone other than me and Elias and the two cooks and the three housekeepers.
At lunch, I sat across from Kirion. He remained silent.
As the meal was served, I said, “Don’t worry. Malin will leave again soon, I’m sure.”
Kirion looked up at me with big ocean blue eyes. “He’s pretty angry.”
“He’s always that way. Uncontrollable, in fact. But you don’t have to worry.”
“Don’t I?”
“He’s been in a few bar scuffles but he’s not violent.”
Kirion looked down at his food as if he didn’t believe me.
“He was pretty drunk when those scuffles happened. He’s more of a runner than a fighter.”
“He’s an alpha. And he’s big.”
I frowned. He was right, of course.
“I want you to feel safe here.”
Silence.
“Kirion. I mean that. Nothing will happen. I promise.”
