Chapter 14
Killian
Killian had maintained the same monthly massage with the same masseuse for coming on two years now.
Tonight, instead of getting scolded for working too many hours hunched over a computer, he’d been told for the very first time that he had fewer knots than usual.
“Whatever relaxation techniques you’ve learned,” his masseuse had said with surprise, “keep them up.”
Killian intended to.
But he also had a feeling—as he broke half a dozen traffic laws speeding to the restaurant where Chase was waiting—that every single knot he’d gotten worked out was now bunched up tightly again.
Chase had sounded … wrong over the phone. Detached in a way that was somehow distressingly different from the beta’s usual cool reserve. It was sending Killian’s instincts spiraling, the need to protect and fix whatever had gone awry.
Killian parked at the curb in front of the restaurant, waving the valet off. Before he could unbuckle and leap out of the car dramatically, Chase was already climbing into the passenger seat.
“Thanks for picking me up.”
Killian turned in his seat and took stock as Chase buckled himself in.
His beta still sounded off. Chase’s eyes were dry but glassy, and his expression was oddly blank. He might even have looked serene if Killian hadn’t known him better than that.
For once, Killian wished Chase had pheromones for him to read.
“What happened?” he asked, making no move to set the car in gear.
“I just needed a ride,” Chase told him, his gaze fixed on the windshield in front of him.
Killian turned off the car.
Chase frowned at the keys in the ignition, although his reaction was delayed by a notable second. “What are you doing?”
“What. Happened?”
Chase blinked at Killian. “It was nothing. Just … dinner with my parents.”
Ah. The family. Killian was glad he’d turned off the engine. Something was going on there, and he was no longer satisfied with staying in the dark. Not if the parents were now making visits and leaving Chase like this, whatever this was.
“What did they do?”
“Nothing,” Chase repeated, managing to sound genuinely surprised by the question. When Killian only arched a brow, he frowned. “I mean it. Nothing.”
“Why didn’t they drive you home?”
Chase shrugged. “They were tired.”
That was bullshit. The house Chase shared with the baby alphas was only ten minutes from here. Killian had looked it up once, after coaxing the address from his beta one lazy Sunday morning.
Killian’s answering silence seemed to throw Chase off. He shrugged again, the movement jerky, with none of his usual natural grace. “They’re not— When it comes to—” He broke off. Let out a breath. Tried again. “They just don’t like me very much. They never have.”
It was strange, the anger that ran through Killian. Hotter than anything he’d ever felt, and yet it left him ice-cold. “Explain.”
Chase trapped his lower lip between his teeth. Let it out again. “They’re not terrible or anything,” he eventually said. “They just … aren’t that interested in me.”
“And they never have been,” Killian repeated.
“No.”
Killian had to unclench his teeth with determined effort to ask, “And when you were a child?”
“I mean, I had a nanny. I wasn’t neglected.” Chase drew back, startled by whatever he saw in Killian’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You just told me you were a child completely devoid of parental affection. How should I be looking?”
“No, no.” Chase shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong idea. It’s not that bad. Like, he doesn’t talk about it, but Spencer grew up really struggling with money, and his mother is, like, mean.” Chase’s leg was bouncing now. Killian had never seen him so jittery. “That’s hard, you know? That’s real.”
Meaning his own struggles weren’t.
Killian wasn’t equipped for this. He was used to comforting with actions, not words.
But words were necessary here, and he needed to step the fuck up.
“Suffering is relative, Chase,” he said, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.
“There’s always going to be someone who has it worse. That doesn’t mean you can’t hurt.”
Chase’s leg stopped its bouncing, and he seemed to sit with Killian’s words for a long time.
Jesus fuck. Had no one ever told him that before? Not a single person? But of course not, if he’d never shared. If he’d kept that pain tucked close to his chest, secret and contained.
Killian thought of Chase’s sobbing breakdown the night of his punishment, the release and the relief there. It was no wonder. And it made it that much more disturbing now, Chase’s dry eyes and lack of reaction.
Who had trained him to be so stoic? Or was that just the natural result of a lifetime of neglect?
Finally, Chase spoke. “I thought pulling out of my scholarship would be big enough to merit a conversation,” he said, almost absently. “I don’t even know why I wanted that. Why do I still care? It’s pathetic.”
“It’s not,” Killian said firmly. “It’s normal to crave a parent’s love and affection.”
Chase met his gaze. “You seem fine.”
It was true that Killian wasn’t close with his parents. They were very different people, and their relationship reflected that. But he’d never doubted he was loved.
“I’m older than you,” he explained. “As we age, those relationships … shift. People start gravitating toward the affection of partners. Friends.”
“Is that what you do?” Chase asked, cocking his head.
Killian scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t think I’m the paragon of mental health that you think I am.”
“You seem to be doing all right to me.”
“I get by.” They were too far away from each other for this conversation. It was no longer remotely tenable. Killian moved his seat back as far as it would go. He gave his thigh a pat. “Come sit on my lap.”
“In the car?”
“Yes, in the fucking car.”
Moving far too slowly for Killian’s liking, Chase unbuckled his seat belt and climbed over the center console, arranging himself until his thighs were straddling Killian’s, his head hunched down to avoid the car’s ceiling.
“This is ridiculous,” Chase complained, although he made no move to go back to his seat.
“It isn’t.” Killian clamped his hands around the backs of Chase’s thighs, keeping him exactly where he was.
Chase glanced out the window. “The valet can see us. His name’s Jason.”
“I’m aware.”
Of the former, obviously. Killian had had no idea about the latter.
Chase let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and then he was pressing his face into the crook of Killian’s neck as hard as he could.
“They barely noticed I was there,” he said, the words muffled.
“And I didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t stand up for myself. Didn’t make a scene. I just sat there.”
Killian swept a hand through Chase’s silken hair, then grasped the back of his neck firmly. “Because you, Chase Adler, are a good boy, aren’t you? You aim to please. And it’s their own fucking fault they can’t appreciate it.”
Chase’s answering sigh was hot against Killian’s skin. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“It’s the easiest thing in the world, being nice to you.”
Chase turned his head, just enough to make his next words clear.
“They never scent marked me growing up. I had a nanny when I was really young, but she was another beta. We’re learning in Omega Studies …
betas crave scent marking too. From our old pack days.
They’ve done brain scans. There are—there are real benefits. ”
It was growing damp against Killian’s neck, although there were no other signs of Chase’s tears. No sobs this time. No shaking shoulders.
“That’s why I’m on you like a dog in heat all the time,” Killian told him. “The brain benefits.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Chase leaned back with a watery laugh. “You just made a joke,” he told Killian, some of that horrible blankness finally gone from his wet eyes.
“I did.” And while Killian could have stayed here forever, with Chase taking comfort on his lap, remaining parked at the curb of a random restaurant was probably not ideal. “Come, let’s get you home.” At Chase’s look, Killian clarified. “My home.”
“Yours. Okay.” Chase glanced out the window again, then smirked at Killian. “You sure you don’t want to give Jason more of a show? Seems like your type of thing.”
Killian gave his hip a firm swat. “Don’t be a brat. Back in your seat.”
Killian had owned the lounge chairs in his backyard for ages. They’d come with the patio furniture set he’d purchased with very little thought. He only occasionally remembered to use them.
But now, lying in the early morning sun with a book in hand, his coffee within reach, and Chase Adler lying boneless between his legs, curled up against Killian’s chest, Killian was gaining a newfound appreciation.
“I’m surprised you don’t have a pool,” Chase mused sleepily, his breath warm against Killian’s shirtless skin.
“Mm. I’ve thought about it. But I already use the pool at my gym.”
“And you leave for some of the summer. For your speaking engagements.”
Killian smiled into his book. Chase had remembered. “Often, yes.”
Of course, Killian had quite a few universities still waiting for his answer this year. He’d been holding off finalizing his summer schedule, and he wasn’t skilled enough at lying to himself to even pretend to wonder why.
Chase was staying in town for the summer, he’d told Killian. And that thought had already been tempting enough before, but now that Killian had learned about what a bullshit, indifferent home life Chase had endured, a new protectiveness was surging through him.
Even without what Chase had shared with Killian the night before, it all still probably would have been inevitable. They’d been spending more time together, and whether they wanted to keep it casual or not, a certain amount of intimacy had taken place.
And Killian had been taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in learning more about his young paramour in small, stolen bits.
Chase was studious but didn’t stress overly about academics.
He had an incredibly tight bond with the baby alphas Killian always saw hanging off him.
(Which might have filled Killian with a certain amount of jealousy before, but for which he was now grateful, since it meant Chase wasn’t wholly alone in life.) In almost every scenario, Chase maintained a quiet confidence that could be mistaken for aloofness.
Except he learned the names of everyone he met, always had a moment for a friend in need, and had a knack for sussing out small tasks that needed to be done and doing them without a word.
And he was horrendously easy to spend time with, but Killian had already known that.
Chase set his phone down on the lounger, peering up at Killian with green eyes narrowed against the sun. He’d left his hat inside, and Killian would either need to fetch it or make sure he put on sunscreen soon. Chase was fairer than Killian, and Killian didn’t want him burning.
“Can you keep a secret?” Chase asked.
Killian set down his book, arching a brow. “You have to ask?”
Chase didn’t crack a smile, just bit at his lower lip before saying, “My roommate, Noah. He’s been dating a professor. Professor Miller.”
“Eli Miller?” Killian asked with surprise. He’d met the man a few times at various university functions. The omega had used to cart around an older husband—a smarmy, annoying bastard, that one—but that must have been a thing of the past.
Killian had an email from Miller in his inbox, actually, asking to pick Killian’s brain about publishing academic books for the masses. Killian had put out a moderately successful guide to popular statistics a few years ago.
“Yeah. They’re not public public, but they just came out to their friends. To us.”
A surge of … something ran through Killian at the news. Before he could process it, Chase let out a sigh. “I’m bored.”
Killian was too affronted to question the change of subject. “Excuse me?”
Chase gave him a cheeky smile. “I just mean, I didn’t bring my school stuff. I’m just doomscrolling on my phone here.”
Killian tilted his head toward the house. “Go get one of my books to read. And your hat while you’re at it.”
“One of your precious spy novels?” Chase asked, his grin widening as he sat up.
“Mm. Try Eye of the Needle. World War II. There’s a good film version. We can watch it when you’re done.”
“All right.” Chase hopped off the lounger with disturbing agility and went into the house. Killian craned his neck to watch him go. The beta was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, and a lazy sort of lust swam through Killian’s belly at the sight.
There wasn’t any urgency to it. Not yet, at least. Chase wouldn’t be leaving before the evening—Killian had already exacted his promise to stay. There would be time to fuck him into a weeping mess after they’d had their relaxing morning.
Killian hadn’t done it the night before.
He’d decided a rejuvenating bath was in order—warm water to soothe the soul, or something like that—and by the time they’d figured out how to fit two grown men into his tub, lazy kisses had turned to determined frotting, and then Killian had jerked them both off to completion.
They’d rinsed off in the shower, and Chase had been demonstrably exhausted, his eyes barely staying open by the time Killian had turned the water off.
He’d fallen asleep curled into Killian’s chest as Killian had read his book, the same spy novel he was reading now.
It had all been … quite domestic.
A teacher and a student going public.
It was a thought. Definitely a thought.
Killian could have his scent on Chase whenever he wanted. Chase could leave the house absolutely dripping in his pheromones, and there would be nothing anyone could say about it.
Killian cleared his throat, adjusting his cock.
Chase returned, his baseball cap in place and a book in his hand. He climbed back onto the lounger, fitting perfectly into his earlier position. He rubbed experimentally against Killian’s erection. “This wasn’t there when I left.”
Killian gave him a swat. “Hush. Read your book.”
“But—”
“If you get through three chapters, I’ll let you ride me on this lounger.” Killian smirked down at him. “At least until you beg me to flip you over and fuck you like the eager little beta you are.”
“Really?” Chase arched a brow, maybe trying for coy, but his squirming gave him away. “Outside? Where your neighbors can hear?”
“Oh, sweet boy,” Killian crooned with mock sympathy. “Did no one ever tell you how loud you are when you’re getting fucked properly? The neighbors can always hear you.”
Chase ducked his head into his book, but Killian didn’t miss the delicious pink flush that traveled all the way to the tips of his ears.
There was no sign of the empty despair from the night before. No trace of the pain Chase’s parents had unearthed within him. But Killian remembered.
He wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon.