“How are your husband and the chicks?” Emory asked, walking over to lean more casually against the desk.
Jefferson and his mate were not only fated mates but a married couple. Jefferson’s puffin alpha father had insisted they uphold the matrimonial tradition, and Emory and his mother had attended the service. His mom had made a few throwaway comments about how it compared to lion traditions, but Emory found the whole thing rather romantic.
“They’re wonderful. Logan went on quite the holiday shopping spree with the holiday bonus you and your mother gave us. Thank you again, sir,” Jefferson said as he smoothed out a crease in Emory’s shirt sleeve.
Emory clasped Jefferson’s forearm right as the front door of the building opened. This was probably for the best; otherwise, his lion would have launched them across the warmly lit space.
Cameron was dressed in an incredibly soft-looking sweater, and snow was caught in his fluffy hair, matting it slightly and turning the bronze ringlets almost maroon. He shook his head side to side, and then shook out his shoulders and arms, almost like a wet dog, and Emory had to stifle a laugh.
“Are you sure you’re a sea creature? That little dance was rather mammalian,” Emory joked as he slowly approached his fated mate.
Cameron looked up at him, mirth dancing in his eyes. He hesitated for only a second before taking two quick steps forward and throwing his arms around Emory’s neck.
“Hi, honey,” Emory said, the endearment slipping out so naturally it was like he’d been saying it for years.
They’d exchanged two hugs, not to mention spending nearly half of their first encounter in each other's arms, but Cameron’s cool demeanor over text had left Emory unsure of what to expect in terms of physical affection tonight. He grew up cuddling with members of his pride, and before his dad died, he’d spent most weekends curled against Christopher or Ronan’s side on his couch. It pained him to admit he’d seen a lot less of his family and friends as of late, but he’d always hoped his fated mate would be cuddly. Maybe there was hope yet.
“It’s good to see you–sorry, I think I might be getting you wet,” Cameron said, attempting to release Emory, but Emory wasn’t quite done yet. His lion was prancing around in a very undignified manner, flicking his tail happily this way and that.
“It’s quite alright, Cameron. You had to venture all the way here in the cold and wet. I suppose it’s the least I can do to warm you up.”
Cameron’s arms tightened around his neck. The precipitation heightened his scent, and it invaded Emory’s senses, overwhelming his human thoughts until he was nothing more than his inner beast. He wanted to sink his teeth into the soft skin of Cameron’s neck. To bite him, claim him, mate him… but when Cameron shivered again, Emory snapped back to his senses.
He was saved from having to explain himself and his possessive urges by Jefferson clearing his throat. “Sorry to disturb you, sirs, but Mister Christopher has inquired about your whereabouts.”
Emory’s lion grumbled, but he released Cameron, grabbing his hand at the last second and leading him towards the elevators.
“Christopher gets a little nervous before big events. He’s always afraid guests won’t show, or will be disappointed in his hospitality, which is absurd because his parties are very well known and well loved.”
“I hope I’m dressed appropriately. I wasn’t really sure how to dress for a house party…” Cameron trailed off as the golden elevator doors opened, revealing the opulent mirror-lined interior. “Or...a penthouse party?” Cameron glanced pointedly at the wall where elevator buttons would be in a typical elevator.
Emory chuckled. “He doesn’t live in the penthouse.”
Cameron glanced up at him with a skeptical eyebrow, perhaps catching something in Emory’s tone.
Emory grinned down at him. “I do.”
Cameron balked, and Emory took advantage of his surprise to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him to his side.
Cameron came willingly, perhaps still too shocked to erect whatever walls usually existed between them. As the elevator ascended the nine floors to Christopher’s condo, he slowly relaxed into Emory’s side.
“You look wonderful, by the way,” Emory said, running his hand up the back of Cameron’s soft sweater. “Christopher is usually rather snazzily dressed, and I dress up a little more than I did before I took over my father’s role, but the guests typically dress similarly to you.”
As the doors slid open, Cameron not so subtly stifled a gasp. The entryway to Christopher’s apartment was decked out in winter festival lights, garlands, and wreaths. An all-white tree stood in the corner, twinkling intermittently, in sync with the lights that lined the double doors leading into the apartment. One of the doors was open, revealing several guests milling around in long dresses and waistcoats.
Cameron’s blunt nails dug into the meat of Emory’s back. “I thought you said everyone would be dressed like me!” Cameron hissed through his teeth.
Emory gave a helpless shrug. “They usually are. I was not informed?—”
“There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you’d received a better offer in the lobby,” Christopher bellowed as he entered the entrance hall.
He gave Cameron a very purposeful once-over, and just when Emory was beginning to feel his hackles rise, Christopher smiled warmly. “And I can see now that if you had received a better offer from this gorgeous man, I wouldn’t have been able to fault you.”
Cameron’s grip on Emory’s shirt tightened for an instant before releasing. He strode forward with surprising confidence and stuck out his hand. “You must be Christopher. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Emory had forgotten that Cameron was used to attending opulent events for work. Perhaps this felt like any other formal event he needed to impress at. He hoped Cameron would be able to enjoy himself. Emory loved Christopher’s parties because they were one of the few events where he felt completely at ease. Christopher only invited people who were direct friends of the Rexford family and company.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” Christopher said, accepting Cameron’s hand and clasping it in both of his. “It’s so good to meet you. Truly, I can’t believe it’s taken this long.” He cast an accusing look at Emory.
