But didn’t the nights in the last few weeks feel like something close to a relationship? An alpha holding his omega, protecting him, keeping him safe, warming him up? And Ehlian had let him, without a moment’s hesitation.
He wanted it, even.
The walls he had built up were crumbling, and he didn’t know how long he had the strength to keep them intact and standing. He desperately needed to fortify them again, before his own needs consumed him entirely.
“Don’t misread the last few weeks,” Ehlian said, trying to keep his voice steady and sharp. “What I said still stands. I won’t sleep with you.”
“Good.”
Good?! What in the gods’ name did he mean,good?“I’m serious.”
“Deadly. I can tell,” Hayce said drily.
Ehlian’s face burned. “I mean it, Hayce. No sex.”
“You’re the only one arguing,” Hayce shot back, already heading for the door.
Then he was gone.
Ehlian rubbed at his face.
Fuck.
He didn’t want Hayce. Not really. He was just confused. Starved. Frustrated.
Ehlian pressed the heel of his palm hard against his aching cock. That was as far as he’d go. He wouldn’t touch himself.
Half an hour later, when the lights fully came on in the cell, Ehlian got dressed and headed down to the lounge. Avoiding eye contact, he sat down next to Hayce and started eating breakfast quietly. He forced his mind to go blank, pretending it was like any other morning.
A momentary silence swept through the lounge.
Grasson entered the door with 665 limping behind him, making their way to their usual table.
The thick bandage under 665’s jumpsuit was visible, wrapping tightly around his thigh. The alpha flinched and shrank back slightly when his eyes landed on Hayce. Grasson gave 665 a murderous look. He probably didn’t tolerate weakness in his pack.
“You said a month,” Ehlian hissed.
“It’s already been a month, Ehlian,” Hayce said, his hand reflexively resting on Ehlian’s thigh.
Gods, the touch burned. More than ever before.
The most unsettling thing was how his body welcomed it, wanted it. Wanted more… something raw, something rough, something that would make him lose himself.
Ehlian cleared his throat and shifted on the bench, the low heat in his belly coming alive again. Maybe sensing his discomfort, Hayce slowly withdrew his hand.
Grasson’s sharp eyes caught the movement. His gaze shifted to Ehlian, then to Hayce—back and forth, back and forth.
Ehlian ignored him the best he could, but he noticed that Grasson was following every little interaction between him and Hayce the whole day, or the lack thereof.
The shift seemed to embolden Grasson.
The alpha’s looks grew more confident as the day went by, his posture more predatory, like the absence of Hayce’s small gestures had opened a door he intended to walk through. Ehlian gritted his teeth. Words went around in prison, it was a tight-knit community after all, and Grasson must have been informed that nothing ever really happened between Ehlian and Hayce. The deal was one-sided.
The following day, Ehlian learned Grasson’s confidence wasn’t just an act.
The alpha rose from his seat and strode toward their table, his heavy steps echoing through the lounge. Ehlian felt the vibration in the metal plates beneath him, and before he could stop himself, his hand darted to Hayce’s, gripping it tightly, instinctively seeking protection.
Grasson stopped a short distance away, his shadow casting over their table. “Can I have a word?”
