Valgar
It was difficult, not to say impossible, to have someone offer you such trust without wanting to offer yours in turn. And that was not a problem, of course, what Mar had said was true: Quincy was theirs. Trust was the very least they could offer him.
It had been known to bite on occasion, but seeing it nuzzling at Quincy’s cheek, one would have thought the wild beast a pony. “I see you have seduced my horse as well,” he commented approaching.
“I’m sure there was no need, Hackney’s a sweetheart.”
It did not occur to him what would happen with that unexpressed desire until Mar flopped down on the bed beside him that night and said, “I might need to take up archery again if I’m to keep up with you and Quincy.”
“What?” Valgar sat up to stare at her in horror.
Her amusement evaporated. “Val,” she said slowly, sitting up and reaching for his hand. It was a testament to their bond that even then, her touch relaxed him.
“I’m not— You must know I haven’t—”
Mar squeezed his hand. “Yes, of course I know.” She hesitated, then forged ahead, braver than many generals. “And that you want to, that you have grown to love him. As have I, truly. You can’t imagine I wish for anything but your happiness and his as well.”
Love? Was that what he felt? He’d thought it was not yet that dire, but spoken aloud by the person who could know.
.. One of the persons, at least. Quincy could read his emotions just as clearly, and except during his partner’s heat, Valgar hadn’t attempted to hide himself at all. It was simply not his way.
He raised his eyes to his mate’s. “Beloved,” he said gently. “I need you to know no one can replace you in my affections, or— I did not come here thinking of Quincy.”
Her face softened. “I know that too, Val.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then pulled back with a mischievous smile. “I still know this morning you nearly gave into him. And I can hardly complain about getting the benefits of this long courtship you two insist on.”
“Gave into him?” Val repeated. “He’s not... I know how he feels, yes, but I don’t know what he’s decided.”
Mar’s surprise was like a flash in his head, but her parted lips did serve to add a certain dramatic flair to the scene.
“Are you not in jest?” she asked, which of course she already knew.
“Valgar, that man has been... Well, saying yes for a while now. I mean, I am restrained by the omega code, but you told me the heat went really well, and that afterwards Quincy was affectionate, did you not?”
“Yes, but that was after heat, he could not have been thinking clearly, or—”
“And yesterday at dinner?”
Valgar frowned, trying to recall, but nothing stood out to him. “What about it?”
“Quincy insisted on serving you and he nearly sat on your lap in the process?” She wasn’t repressing her amusement about it all, and to his shock that’s all there was.
No resentment, no anger, no sadness or loss.
Maybe there was a hint of something else, something that made his eyes fall back down to what was left exposed of her body.
Mar laughed at him. “Does it work even when I tell you about it?” She sounded delighted.
He cleared his throat, focus narrowing to her. “Does it work on you?”
His lady’s eyes widened, their green glowing like a cat’s in the low light of the lamps, and then she dropped them for a moment. He could feel her mind churning, so he kept his mouth shut.
“I am not sure what it is that makes me react,” she said. “Perhaps your own desire, but yes.” She smiled, coquettish and more beautiful with her hair in disarray, happier and freer in their bed than she could have been with all her jewels. “We might as well take advantage of it.”
Valgar watched her in wonder. “Life with you could never be boring, could it, beloved?”