Chapter 7
Killian
Chase Adler was waiting outside Killian’s office door.
Killian had an entire hallway’s worth of time to adjust himself to that fact.
A blink and a step to assure himself it wasn’t some manifested hallucination.
Another step to categorize Chase’s appearance: joggers, thin T-shirt, ever-present baseball cap hiding his green eyes in a way that was not filling Killian with any sort of rage, because he did. Not. Care.
“Mr. Adler,” Killian greeted coolly when he arrived at his door one full eternity later. He dug out his keys to unlock it. The action put them close enough for Killian to note that Chase smelled of spiced tea and ocean air. Killian knew he would.
He shoved his irritation down deep.
It didn’t matter that the beta smelled of other alphas. It didn’t matter that the last time Killian had seen Chase, he’d smelled only of Killian. Thoroughly. Completely.
It did. Not. Matter.
Killian ushered Chase inside with a hand not quite touching the beta’s lower back. “Take a seat.”
After only a moment of deliberation, Killian locked the door.
Chase made a small noise, and Killian rounded his desk to his chair—a wall of wood between them seemed like a reasonable idea. “Nothing is happening here today,” he said sternly. “I simply prefer my private conversations remain private.”
“Of course, sir.”
Killian huffed. That answered the question of whether one night of intimacy had done anything to lessen Chase’s innate manners.
Killian wouldn’t know, because Chase had been gone when Killian had woken.
The fact that Killian had fallen asleep in the midst of providing aftercare to a sub—had not gotten Chase water or made sure he’d eaten something before leaving—was unacceptable.
What was even more unacceptable was Chase slipping out of Killian’s bed in the dark, running off before Killian could feel … settled about the whole affair.
That was why Killian had been on edge since, looking for Chase around every corner. Not the act itself, but the way it had ended.
Killian folded his hands on his lap and waited for Chase to tell him why he’d come here today.
But Chase didn’t say anything. He sat in the chair across from Killian and stared back at him, completely silent. If Killian didn’t know any better, he’d think Chase was employing negotiation tactics—staying quiet so his opponent would speak first.
Childish, really. Killian wouldn’t fall prey to it. Chase had come to him. It was up to the beta to explain his presence here.
Except it was taking all Killian’s concentration just to keep his pheromones in check, and the words slipped out without his permission. “I drove you to my home so that I would be the one driving you back. So that I could be sure you were all right before we parted ways.”
Chase shifted slightly in his seat, wafting ocean air and spiced tea toward Killian. “Sir?”
“You left like a thief in the night before I could ascertain whether you were well enough to do so. Next time—”
Chase coughed, his expression hidden by his cap. “There’s going to be a next time?”
“No.”
Killian’s swift denial left them in silence once again. Killian would maintain it this time. He’d said enough.
Except that damned hat covering Chase’s eyes was driving him crazy.
“I don’t like talking to people when I can’t see their face.”
Chase cocked his head, an unspoken question.
Killian gestured to Chase’s head. “Hat. Off.”
“Oh.” As if it wasn’t an unreasonable request in the slightest, Chase tugged off his cap and placed it on his lap.
There was no reason for his hair to still be silken and perfectly parted after being pressed down by a baseball cap all day. No reason at all.
For the first time since he’d arrived at Killian’s office, Chase seemed slightly on edge. He’d started chewing nervously at his lower lip. He had beautiful lips, full and pink.
Killian had never gotten to see them wrapped around his cock.
Killian pressed two fingers to the space between his brows. Hard.
“Sir … Are you all right?”
“What brings you here, Chase Adler?” Killian asked wearily, unconsciously repeating his question from the other night. The one that had started it all. “Are you looking for a repeat? After I explicitly told you once would have to be enough?”
Chase’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t respond. Somehow he didn’t even seem stubborn about it, just … calm.
Infuriatingly calm.
Spiced tea. Ocean air.
Unacceptable.
Killian grabbed a pen from his desk. Placed it back. Grabbed another.
“You will wait for my text tonight. You may drive yourself to my home, but you will not be leaving until the morning, when I can be assured that you’re returning home in an appropriate state.”
Chase’s pretty green eyes widened, as if he was startled by Killian’s words. What right did he have to be startled? He’d done this.
“You remember where I live?” Killian asked tersely.
“Yes, sir.”
“Try. Again.”
“Yes, Alpha.” Chase had released his lower lip from the clutches of his teeth, and there was a small smile playing at his lips now. “I remember where you live.”
“Good. Come here.”
Chase rose, naturally graceful as ever. He came around Killian’s desk, his hat held tightly in his hands. Killian gestured for him to place the damned thing back on his head, and then he took one of Chase’s hands in his.
Killian wanted to stand, wanted to shove his face into Chase Adler’s neck. But he took hold of the beta’s wrist instead, rubbed his thumb there. Back and forth, back and forth.
“Your classes are going well?”
Chase nodded. “So far.”
“Good. Other hand.”
Chase gave him his other wrist, and Killian repeated the scent marking.
“Is this a good idea?” Chase asked, and Killian finally felt something settle in him at the slightly breathless way his question came out.
Still, Killian didn’t release him. Not yet.
“My pheromones are notoriously overpowering,” he said quietly, moving up the inside of Chase’s arm to the sensitive skin at the crook of his elbow.
Chase’s lips parted, his breath coming faster.
“Sometimes they stick. No one will think anything of it.” Killian narrowed his eyes. “You reek of baby alphas.”
“My roommates,” Chase told him, confirming Killian’s earlier suspicions. “My friends.”
His pupils were blown already, from something as simple as a casual scent marking. Poor thing. Killian tried not to let it get to him. He was halfway successful.
Killian made a noncommittal noise, then took stock. There was still a subtle hint of spice and salt, but Chase now smelled of leather and cherries more than not.
A tightness in Killian’s chest eased.
“You may go.” He released his hold on Chase’s arm. “Keep your phone close.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Without another word, Chase turned and left the room.
Killian could get angry right about now, convince himself he’d just been played. But he usually wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself—at least not so egregiously—and the truth was, he’d played himself.
Chase had barely spoken a word, and Killian had folded. Again.
Killian was a morning workout person. Always had been, probably always would be.
He liked to sweat out the fog of sleep, work out any lingering tensions or aggressions before starting the day.
Weights, treadmill, rowing machine. He kept it varied in an attempt to keep his own interest. He felt pretty strongly that this consistent yet flexible routine was part of what kept him calm, despite his designation.
Killian had already worked out that morning, of course. And yet here he was at the gym again, just before dinnertime, sprinting on the treadmill like the devil himself was at his heels.
Killian had been brought here by some sort of vague idea that he could sweat Chase Adler out of his system.
Sure, Killian had caved back there in his office, but if he could hold out—if he could choose not to send that text tonight—things would stop there.
Chase wouldn’t show up without Killian’s express invitation; Killian knew that much.
Not at this stage, not with Killian’s “one time only” hanging in the air between them.
It was up to Killian to stay the course. Or to break.
And he’d just run three miles much more quickly than was wise, was now dripping with sweat, and was in no more control of his hormones than he had been a few hours before, with Chase Adler sitting pretty as he pleased in front of him, saying nothing and somehow asking everything.
Killian turned the treadmill off with a growl, easing himself off the damn thing and stalking to the gym’s locker room.
He took a freezing-cold shower that did nothing to dull his edge, then dressed back in his work clothes.
He hated that—getting dressed in dirty clothes after a shower.
But he hadn’t been planning to go to the gym a second time that day, so he’d have to make do.
Killian would change at home. Something loose and comfortable. Soft clothes to soothe the savage beast, or something like that.
He was going to text Chase.
Fuck. No. No, I’m not.
He was.
Killian tore his belongings out of the locker and swiped through his phone, hitting the contact number of the one person who might talk him into reasonable action.
Prince picked up on the third ring.
“Killian,” he drawled, and somehow Killian could tell Prince was horizontal on that massive monstrosity he called a sofa. “Joining us tonight after all?”
“I’m about to do something stupid,” Killian announced, startling a beta woman leaving the women’s locker room as he turned the corner to the gym’s exit.
Silence on the other end.
“Hello?”
Prince cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was just making sure I hadn’t misread my phone. Thought I was talking to Devon for a second.” There was the sound of him setting something down, either a laptop or a beer bottle—both were equally likely. “How stupid are we talking here?”
“Potentially-blowing-up-my-life kind of stupid.”
Chase may not have been Killian’s student anymore, but he was still an undergraduate student at Killian’s university.
A situation that wasn’t explicitly forbidden but not exactly approved of.
It might have been a different matter if Chase were a grad student, but as it was, if he wanted to make trouble for Killian, he most definitely could.
Not that Chase seemed like the troublemaking type. More like the “sit pretty on his knees, suck cock like an angel, and thank his alpha for the opportunity” kind.
Fuck, Killian wanted to see that. He wanted to put Chase Adler on his knees and fuck his face. Wanted him to hold Killian’s cum in his mouth and not swallow until told.
“Well?” Killian barked as he rounded to the corner of the parking lot where his car waited. He needed some sense knocked into him, and he needed it now.
“Am I supposed to be the voice of reason here?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
“Are you sure? Me?”
“It’s you or Devon.”
“Fair enough. I say …” Prince stopped there, clearly pausing for suspense. Killian was surprised he didn’t go for a drum roll while he was at it. “… Go for it.”
Killian resisted the urge to kick at his car. “Son of a bitch.”
Prince cackled brightly on the other end. “You had to have known.”
“I despise you both.”
“Poor Devon. Not even on the call and still catching heat. Should I get him on the line? I feel like this hissy fit of yours is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Killian whirled, pacing in the other direction. He wasn’t ready to be seated. He needed … movement. “This is hardly a hissy fit.”
“For you, it might as well be.” There was the sound of Prince pouring something. “So you met someone.”
“In a sense.”
“A fuck-up-your-life someone.”
“Potentially.”
Prince took a loud sip of his drink. “God, I’d kill to meet them.”
“That isn’t happening.”
“A photo?”
“I need better friends.”
“Glad to be of help.” Prince took another loud sip.
He was smacking his lips on purpose; Killian would bet his life on it.
“Listen. You’re loaded, you’ve got a good professional name for yourself, and you’re not particularly attached to anything in your life.
Go. Blow it up. I’m just happy to see you actually invested in something for once. ”
It was the exact opposite of the kind of pep talk Killian needed.
He hung up the phone.
Killian made his way back to his car and got in, starting it and then sitting there with the engine running. It didn’t seem wise to get moving just yet. Vehicular manslaughter wasn’t a charge Killian was looking to add to his résumé.
It was time to look at the facts.
Killian had fucked Chase, and now the beta was under Killian’s skin. Killian had attempted avoidance and then had caved at the first sight of him. Exercise as a substitute for sex was well and truly out. Killian had tried to speak to a voice of reason, but apparently he didn’t know any of those.
He’d clearly taken a wrong turn somewhere when it came to the people he surrounded himself with.
That’s because you’re the voice of reason, and you’re losing it.
So that was that. Killian was going to text Chase. Once was going to turn into twice.
But maybe they could leave it at that. Twice was still different from a full-blown affair.
How could they leave it at that?
Killian had to get those pretty lips around his cock, for one. That seemed … incredibly important right now. It wouldn’t do to be left with that missed opportunity hanging over his head again.
And Chase had to stay the night. That had been the other issue—unsettled alpha instincts from the beta slipping away too soon.
Killian needed to fuck him hard, then care for him properly, then send him on his way.
Feed him breakfast too. For good measure.
Killian could picture it perfectly, actually: Chase at his kitchen table, sleep-mussed and well-fucked, eating from a plate Killian had prepared.
Perhaps Killian would stop at the store on his way home.
Killian put the car in gear, suddenly feeling like he could be behind the wheel quite safely after all.
He let out a breath as he drove away.
Everything was under control.