“If you stay and let me help you with your heat, and you’re certain you don’t want to be a bound omega, then I’m confident that’s what you’ll get. So the only question is… do you know what youactuallywant?”
“I want to not be an omega.” His tone is so petulant, it’s almost childish.
I reach over and brush his hair back from his ears, tracing the rounded points and the almost-imperceptible scars. “You’re not nearly as good a liar as I am.”
“You think Iwantthis?”
“You’d really erase everything you’ve accomplished? You kept a secret that most couldn’t hide for a day for, what, ten years? Tell me with a straight face you’re not proud of that.”
“Of course I’m proud of that.”
“Then let yourself be happy. Whatever that looks like for you. There’s a way you could go anywhere you want. Do anything you want. Book any job. Be free.”
“Except for that teeny-tiny life bond part.”
“Yeah. Except for that.”
Mylo lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know the thing I hate most about you? What I absolutely loathe the most?”
A wry smile pulls up the corner of my mouth. “Tell me.”
“Somehow it’s not how insufferable you are, or how cocky, or how… ludicrously, offensively talented you are at whatever random thing. And I really thought it would be the smugness, or—or the…inconceivableirresponsibility of up and vanishingwhenever you feel like it, yet somehow feeling like you’re inanyposition to give advice.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it like that, Mylo. Tell me how you really feel.”
“The one thing, the thing I hate the most is…” He turns to me, eyes stricken, a thread of fear weaving into his scent. “…is how much Iwantyou. I have…neverwanted anything so much. Not learning how to fight, not doing stunts, not getting a stable gig,nothing…And it scares the crap out of me. This—” He gestures between us. “—being wrong, I can handle. But what if…” His voice cracks, subtle florals blooming in his scent. “What if it’sright?”
Tears roll down his cheeks, and I cup his face in my hands.
My voice drops to a whisper. “Then we could make each other happy.”
He leans into my hand, subtly turning toward me. “What if I… don’t know how to be happy?”
I slowly lean closer until our foreheads brush. His skin is blazing hot. “I’m very persuasive.”
Our breath mingles between us, mine steady, his trembling.
I’ve always had trouble sitting still. But I just feel his pulse against my hand, just let his scent fill my nose.
And I realize something. I could wait for Mylo… forever. However long he needs, or even if he never does… It’s the one thing I can see myself doing for the rest of my life.
Slowly, like dawn breaking, he tilts his head and leans closer.
His lips brush mine.
Warmth radiates from that touch.
And still, I wait. This time, I let Mylo set the pace.
He leans into the kiss, parting my lips. I catch his tongue with mine.
Then he presses closer. Breathes harder.
It’s a slow and sweet unraveling as his hands rise to my neck and his knees unfold from his chest.
The sun must be painting breathtaking color across an endless sky, but we don’t see it.
His hands tighten behind my neck, and he moves to straddle me. I gently pull him into place. His breath and movements quicken, and he presses against my chest. My hands slide around his waist, under his shirt. His skin is slick with sweat, and he lets me pull the shirt off over his head, then quickly returns his lips to mine.
