Fur and Honor (Steel Bonds)

Chapter 11

As awareness tugged at the edges of Hal’s mind, he burrowed his face deeper into the back of Miles’s neck, wanting to remain in this cocoon of warmth a little longer. Too soon, though, the unfamiliar smells of a strange apartment and a terrifyingly uncomfortable mattress conspired to force him to full consciousness.

A brief flare of panic followed.

He’d flaunted a man in his employ on his arm before the city’s elite on the biggest night of the year. Then, he’d followed him home and fucked him. In the last twelve hours, he’d taken advantage of a man who relied on him for his financial security in every way conceivable. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.

The man in his embrace shifted, turning on the lumpy mattress until he’d tossed an arm and leg over Hal and burrowed in close. “Too early. Stop thinking so hard.”

Hal swept a cautious hand down the length of Miles’s spine. Miles hummed in contentment and melted against him, his breath soon evening back out into sleep.

Clearly Miles was undisturbed waking up to this turn of events. Good sign. And even if Miles had barely grown comfortable with notetaking from the back of the room in the month before, last night he’d willingly placed himself at Hal’s side, in the spotlight. He’d accepted everything Hal threw at him and returned it ten-fold. Other than a handful of understandable flickers of hesitation, Miles had been the one to appoint himself as Hal’s date. Had arrived on his doorstep in that sexy as sin tuxedo and proceeded to let Hal strip him out of it at the end of the night.

Had definitely been an active participant in what followed.

Werewolf healing meant no ache lingered this morning. Hal’s cock threatened to go from the usual morning half-mast to fully interested in finding out whether Miles might want to—

What? Have a morning quickie before Hal called his car and slunk away home, only for them to be unable to meet each other’s eyes when they returned to the office?

No. Miles wouldn’t have placed himself in such a prominent position last night if whatever blazed between them was only meant to be a tawdry affair. Which meant they needed to talk first. Which probably meant no morning quickie, and definitely meant no sneaking out of the apartment.

His wolf stirred, snapping and growling at the very idea. They were in agreement, then. Hal would put all his cards on the table when Miles woke, and his wolf wouldn’t have to leave his sleeping mate.

For the first time, his human side didn’t cringe away from what his wolf had somehow known from the first time Hal laid eyes on Miles. And if he re-examined everything that had occurred last night, from the first moment he found Miles in the waiting limousine, maybe his mate had been way ahead of him the entire time. They still needed to talk, but now the outcome felt inevitable. Miles belonged with Hal.

His wolf settled, satisfied and content that Hal had gotten with the program. His bladder, unfortunately, now had other ideas. With great reluctance, he eased out from under Miles and escaped the tangled quilts, finally taking in the tiny apartment without the distraction of imminent sex.

Pale morning light fought through a single window, frosted for privacy from the street. A dresser that doubled as a nightstand, the bed, a battered recliner, and a tiny table and pair of mismatched chairs totaled the entirety of Miles’s furniture. A narrow counter held a hot plate and kettle to serve as a pale imitation of a kitchen, and the bathroom felt even tinier this morning than when he’d used it to clean himself up last night, still lust-drunk and too anxious to return to Miles’s arms than interested in examining his surroundings.

After using the toilet, he tugged on his suit pants but chose an old T-shirt, worn to buttery softness, from the stack of clean laundry on the dresser. Gooseflesh pricked at his bare arms as he crossed to the kettle and flipped it on, so next he found the radiator valve and opened it further.

Miles stirred, the lump under the blankets shifting, at the protesting old radiator’s handful of clicks. His head finally rose a few minutes later as Hal dropped tea bags into two mugs, and he rubbed sleep from his eyes as he peered at his guest.

“Not just an amazing dream, then,” Miles said as he accepted one tea and shifted over on the bed for Hal to join him. “You’re really here, in my shitty apartment.”

“I am.” Hal squashed his first impulse to argue Miles’s assessment of his living situation. The place was crap. Cold and damp and too small. Despite the obvious age of the building, at least he only caught the aroma of old cooking and not the musty earthiness of mold. “No place else I’d rather be.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Now I know I’m dreaming. This place fits inside your kitchen.”

He stated fact, but so did Hal. Catching Miles’s free hand, Hal brought it to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “No place else I’d rather be,” he repeated, “than with you.”

“Being together right now is the easy part, though,” Miles said with a dry chuckle. “What happens when we step outside my apartment?”

Miles stared at Hal, and Hal didn’t look away. He kept his expression open, in defiance of every ingrained business instinct that screamed for him to conceal his emotions, his wants, his desires. Two years ago, nothing would have stopped Hal from grasping more with both hands and never letting go. But that was before the werewolf flu, before his sister died, before the continuation of the Delacour line rested on Hal’s shoulders. Today, nothing stopped Hal from pursuing a physical relationship with anyone he pleased, even his personal assistant, but Hal wanted more from Miles. So much more that it scared him. Because Miles was human, not wolf.

Not hiding his emotions meant every line of Hal’s face probably telegraphed his fears. No wonder Miles drew away, curling both hands around his mug and sighing into his tea. “Yeah. Okay,” he said, eyes flicking around the tiny room and landing everywhere but on Hal. “I see.”

Bradford’s warning the night before would only be the tip of the iceberg when his fellow werewolves—Hal’s family, New Angouleme high society, and the entire British peerage—screamed bloody murder over the future Earl of Calaitum claiming a human as his mate.

At the same time, no one but another werewolf would understand Hal’s willingness to face them all down with tooth and claw to keep the man across from him who’d saved Hal in more ways than one.

“I don’t think you do.” Hal drained the last of his tea and placed the mug on the dresser, then shifted until he knelt before Miles, spreading his arms in supplication. “For weeks, I’ve worried that what I felt for you was on my end alone. So many arguments with myself and my damned wolf that I couldn’t have you. But last night, something between us clicked. And I know you felt it, too.”

Miles met his gaze again, and Hal ached to cup his cheeks and draw their lips together. “Last night was a risk, for both of us,” Miles finally said, proving once again he was smarter than his previous occupation implied. “For all we know, I’ve singlehandedly ruined your reputation, and hiring me was the worst mistake you’ve ever made in your life.”

Plenty of mistakes in Hal’s past begged to differ. “Did you feel pressured by me?” he asked. “By my interest in you? My intention was never to take advantage of you. Your reputation matters too.”

At that, Miles threw back his head and laughed. Hal wanted to bottle the sound, deep but so merry. “My reputation? I’m just a dock rat from the lower side of the city. You see where I live, right? Pretty sure that if anyone is being taken advantage of, it’s you, your lordship.”

“That’s not how it works, though.” Hal plucked the empty mug from Miles and set it beside his, then inched closer and tangled their hands together. “If you’re mine, there’s no advantage or disadvantage.”

“What do you mean by ‘mine’?” Interest and trepidation warred in Miles’s eyes.

Hal had never had to explain this before. He’d never felt this way before. The last thing he wanted was to scare Miles off with the depth of his wolf’s possessiveness. “Nothing so one-sided as you may think. You’d be mine, but I’d also be yours. Everything I am, everything I have.”

“That sounds an awful lot like…” Miles trailed off, unwilling or unable to voice the obvious ideas from a human perspective. Engagement, maybe. Or marriage.

Those appealed to Hal, as a future state, but didn’t encompass what he truly offered Miles. “Pack. To me, it sounds like pack.”

“I’m not a werewolf.”

Chuckling, Hal said, “No, you’re not. You’re perfect.”

Miles flushed at the compliment, then squared his shoulders. “But still human. So, what does that mean for us? That I’d be your dirty little secret?”

“Never. I want you to stand at my side, not hidden in a corner. I want you on my arm at every stupid party and in my bed as many nights as you’ll allow me.” Hal jumped from the bed and pointed toward the door. “I’ll call in the communications staff and put out a press release. I’ll go scream this from the bloody rooftops.”

“In yesterday’s pants and my ratty T-shirt?” A smile teased at Miles’s lips.

“Even better, because wearing your shirt means I smell like my mate.”

“Mate,” Miles said, as if tasting the word. “Is that what I’d be?”

“Yes. Pack means family. Mate is what makes you mine. And I, yours. I trust you with my heart. Will you trust me with yours?” Hal held his breath as he once again extended his hands to Miles. Whatever came next had the potential to destroy him more than any business deal worth billions…or make him the happiest man in New Angouleme.

Thankfully, Miles didn’t make him wait. He stepped off the bed and accepted Hal’s hands, heedless of the sheet that fell from his naked body, baring each of his scars to the morning light. “Yes.”

Heart soaring, Hal closed in to bring their lips together. Their first kiss, practically chaste, sealed his future. Those that followed, however, soon turned devouring as he succumbed to the temptation to tug Miles tight to his body. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of exposed, delectable skin, except Miles insisted on pulling back and fumbling with the button of Hal’s pants.

After chuckling into Hal’s growl, not put off in the slightest by the hint of wolf, Miles nipped at his lower lip. “I think the press release can wait.”