Epilogue
Three months later
“The weather sucks,” Fenrir griped, staring out the window of the tiny rental they’d booked for the weekend. It was located on a small island on the other side of the country and had taken them months to locate.
Or, rather, it’d taken them that long to locate their targets, the people currently occupying the even tinier house across the road.
“I like it,” Oberon said, switching the stove off as soon as the kettle began to whistle. “Coffee is ready.”
“What’s there to like about a blizzard?” Fenrir crossed the small living area to the kitchen, scowl firmly in place. Restless energy crackled in the air as he moved, proof that his Shout nature was the cause for how riled up he currently was.
They were going to have to deal with that before he did something rash and blew their cover.
Or destroyed the place.
Oberon glanced around, noting all the colorful knitted items and winced. If Fenrir unleashed his powers in here, half the place would be ruined beyond repair. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but the old woman who’d agreed to rent it out to them was the grandmother of one of his business partners, and…
He kind of liked the place.
The sunshiny yellow knitted throw pillows and the vibrant blue blanket folded over the back of the green paisley couch were endearing in their own, mismatched, totally hideous way.
“Here,” he handed a steaming mug of instant coffee to Fenrir. “Warm yourself up so you can cool yourself down.”
They’d tracked Trick and Jose to this speck on the planet and had made arrangements as soon as possible. In their haste, they’d failed to check the weather forecast and had arrived just before the start of what everyone was warning was about to be a massive storm.
Since Fiora had stopped giving them updates on what was being done to Michelle, Fenrir had grown agitated. Taking out his other two antagonists would be good for him.
But there was no need to rush.
“Why are you grinning like that?” Fenrir scoffed. “Stop it.”
“Does this remind you of anything?” He motioned toward the window with his chin, then sipped his drink.
“It reminds me of snow. We see it every day. We live on Synastry.”
Oberon rolled his eyes. “I swear, how’d I end up with the least romantic omega in the universe?”
“You confuse romantic with cheesy,” Fenrir stated.
“Are you calling me cheesy?”
“You’re a whole fondue set, King.”
He choked on his drink, almost burning himself, and then shuddered. “Good Light. I’m rubbing off on you.”
“The jokes are bad, you see it now?”
“Lucky for you, there’s something I am good at.”
Fenrir’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Plucking the mug from his hands, Oberon set them both on the counter and then cornered Fenrir against the fridge.
“Seriously? Is now really the time—”
He didn’t let him finish, tongue forcing its way past Fenrir’s full lips. It didn’t take much to get the omega to submit to him, and he pressed his hips in close, grinding his hard-on against Fenrir until he felt the responding bulge forming between them.
No matter the time of day, location, or situation, Fenrir was always so responsive to Oberon’s touch. He loved that about him.
“I love you,” he said, nipping at his mouth before moving to decorate the curve of his jaw with featherlight kisses that had Fenrir squirming. When his omega moaned and tilted his head, presenting him a better angle, O tsked. “That’s not it. Come on. Behave, precious.”
Fenrir knew exactly what he was after, but he liked dragging it out. Liked making Oberon work for it.
Probably liked the way O punished him for not giving in right away too.
“Should I grab your favorite toy from my bag?” Oberon suggested, making sure there was the barest hint of a threat in his tone, just the way he knew his omega liked it.
The push and pull between them was half the fun.
“I saw a sturdy chair in the other room. I’m sure I can assemble something that would work. ”
“You brought that?”
“You never know when a dildo shaped like my cock will come in handy.”
Fenrir groaned, hands dropping to Oberon’s ass. “King.”
“What?” Oberon pressed in closer and then nipped at his earlobe. “Want the real thing?”
“You know I do.”
“Then you know what you need to tell me to get it.”
He hesitated, but it was obvious he was already close to cracking, a clear sign that he really did need this. Needed to expel some pent-up energy.
The device attached to Fenrir’s wrist dinged loudly, causing Oberon to curse.
Slipping free during his distraction, Fenrir answered the call, leaving the device on speaker as he moved back into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. The cushion was springy and he bounced a bit before resting his arms on his knees, the picture of relaxed.
All while Oberon’s neglected cock throbbed.
“Hey, Claudio, is everything all right?”
Not a day went by where Oberon didn’t severely regret buying that damn thing for him. Between restructuring the Wardrobe and taking calls from the White Frost whenever one of them needed to get a hold of Oberon and he wasn’t answering, Fenrir spent a third of his time on his multi-slate.
O glared at it, plotting all the ways he could accidentally destroy it.
“Yes, Mr. Snow, the renovations to the auction house are on schedule, and we’ve just moved the last batch of employees into their apartments,” Claudio replied.
As expected, half of what used to be product had left as soon as Fenrir had taken control of the Wardrobe and given them the option. Turned out, the omega had only disclosed part of his plans that day at the mansion when they’d discussed things with Baal and Koah.
He’d since purchased an entire apartment complex, which he was using to house employees.
The first floor had been reconfigured into a cafeteria and grocery store, so those who weren’t comfortable with walking around the city didn’t have to.
Apparently, a great deal of them suffered from PTSD and trauma.
Oberon supposed if his dad or boyfriend had sold him to a brothel, he’d develop trauma as well.
“Why are you calling then?” Fenrir sent Oberon a look when he entered the room.
“It’s a matter of great importance actually,” Claudio sighed despite his words. “Monet Calloway is trying to get a hold of Mr. King. Mr. King has been wanting to partner with his company, Calloway Cosmetics, for years now, and this opportunity—”
“We’re hanging up now, Claudio.” Oberon didn’t give his secretary the chance to argue, tapping the end call button on Fenrir’s device before he straddled him. Pinning his arms over his head, O smirked, fingers working the strap free.
“King!” Fenrir growled. “That sounded important.”
“Not as important as this.” He successfully detached the multi-slate and let it drop to the ground behind the couch with a thud that had Fenrir cursing.
“Seriously?” Fenrir tried to sit up, but Oberon sprawled over him, keeping him pinned.
“Seriously.” He ran the curve of his jaw across the rise of Fenrir’s cheek, marking him with his scent a second before he released his pheromones. “Back to what really matters.”
“Catching Trick and Jose?”
O latched onto the side of Fenrir’s neck and bit him.
He was careful only to break a single layer of skin though, not delivering a full bite, knowing how much his omega enjoyed getting marked.
His tongue lapped at it afterward, soothing some of the sting, his pheromones causing the man beneath him to start panting.
“I love you,” Oberon repeated pointedly. “Your prey will still be there when the storm passes. The Wardrobe, the White Frost, and King Corporation will still be there.”
“Will you?” Fenrir asked. “Will you still be there once the storm passes?”
“I’ll always be with you,” Oberon promised. “Through this storm, and the next. You’ll always have me, my precious omega.”
He turned his head, nuzzling O back.
But as sweet as it was, that wasn’t what Oberon was after.
“Behave,” he commanded. “Give me what I want, and then,” he rolled his hips, “I’ll give you what you want. I love you, Fenrir.”
They both knew another reason he played this game was because he liked hearing it as much as O did, and the reason O went along with it was he understood where it stemmed from.
For years, Fenrir had no one who cared for him.
He’d never admit it, but he got off on Oberon’s verbal affection. On his confirmation.
Since Oberon got off on getting Fenrir off, it worked out for the both of them.
But he still wanted to hear the sentiment returned.
Seemingly sensing he’d drawn this out for as long as he was going to get away with, Fenrir answered O with a kiss of his own, momentarily sending them both tumbling deeper into arousal.
“I love you, too,” the omega breathed against his lips the second he came up for air. “King. Alpha. I love you.”
“And?”
Fenrir grinned against him. “I love your knot. Give it to me. Wait. I just thought of another terrible joke.”
“It’s definitely not the time for that.”
“K.B.F?”
Oberon pulled back and frowned at him. “What?”
“Kiss.” Fenrir pressed his lips to O’s neck. “Bite.” His teeth grazed that spot that still bore his indents. “Fuck.”
O had them both tumbling to the ground, rolling across a gaudy purple knit rug, until Oberon came out on top.
“If you wanted me to moan your name, precious, you could have just told me.” O stripped out of his shirt, tossing it to the side.
“We’ll play your version now, and my version later, how’s that sound? ”
“Deal,” Fenrir said. “But only if my version lasts longer.”
“Precious. Your version is going to last a lifetime.”