Chapter 19 Chase
Chase
Chase was feeling almost normal by the time they got back to Killian’s house for dinner.
Seeing Mr. Hansen had been … odd, and not just because it had been so unexpected.
The guy wasn’t exactly Chase’s favorite business associate of his father’s by any means.
He was one of those alphas who seemed to think the world was their oyster based solely on the natural advantage of their designation.
And he’d looked at Chase in a way Chase hadn’t liked, back at the restaurant. It had been subtle, but there’d been a kind of calculating, judgmental tinge to it. It had set Chase on edge, when he’d been so happy and relaxed just moments before.
But that might have been Chase’s raw nerves making themselves known.
Killian’s rut had been intense, to say the fucking least. And while part of that had been the way Chase had been pushed to his physical limit, part of it had just been …
Killian. The way he’d cuddled and hand-fed Chase whenever his knot went down.
The way he’d checked in with bleary eyes and slurred words during his few moments of lucidity.
The way he’d triple-checked the locks every time he’d been alert enough to make the rounds, growling at every vague sound from the street.
It had been a concentrated dose of everything that already made Chase weak for him: the intensity of his focus, the strength of his desire, the softness he exuded after he exercised the aggressive lust for Chase that was always simmering just underneath the surface.
So … yeah. Chase had been a little raw. But the chicken pho and getting a breather from the rut pheromones had helped all that a bit.
And Killian was now in an alarmingly good mood, like Chase agreeing to have dinner with him had been some sort of boon he’d been dying for. Which was ridiculous, since he’d never even asked before.
When Chase’s phone buzzed shortly after they’d gotten situated in the living room—Killian flipping through his book while Chase chose something for them to watch—Chase thought it might be one of his roommates.
He’d let them know he’d gotten out of the rut safely, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if they were impatient for more details.
Spencer had already been dropping not-so-subtle hints in that direction.
(Yo, Chasey, one of his texts had read. How was that alpha rut D? !?!)
But it wasn’t one of Chase’s roommates at all.
It was his father calling.
Chase blinked down at his phone in surprise, and Killian—still a little hypersensitive in the vestiges of his rut—tensed beside him on the couch. “What is it?”
“My dad.”
It was strange for his dad to be calling though. Not just because Chase rarely heard from his parents and hadn’t been expecting a call, but because it was usually his mother who handled the family communication.
Maybe they were coming for another visit?
Chase took a breath and accepted the call. “Hey, Dad.”
“Chase,” his father said. He sounded … curt. Pissed, maybe. “I’ve heard a disturbing rumor.”
Chase straightened, making some space between him and Killian on the couch. “Um. Okay.”
“Chet Hansen says he saw you tonight.” Each word leaving his father’s mouth was clipped and decisive, like an evening news report. “Says you were canoodling with a much older man. He did his research, and he says this man teaches at your university.”
“Oh.” Chase’s mind went blank in a very strange way. Of all the ways for him and Killian to get caught, he’d never imagined his parents being a factor.
“Well?”
Chase shook his head, trying to follow. “Was there a question in there?”
“Don’t act smart,” his father chastised, even though Chase hadn’t been acting smart at all.
“Are you carrying about with some pervert alpha professor like a two-bit rent boy, is the question. Did your mother and I not tell you I was pursuing business in Phoenix? Did you not consider what this might do to my reputation?”
Chase was at a loss. He’d never been in trouble with his parents before, even the few times when he’d wanted to be. They’d never noticed enough for him to manage it. So of course he hadn’t considered their reaction. Why the fuck would he?
He tried to think back to what had been so horrendous about him and Killian at dinner.
Chase had smelled like Killian’s pheromones, sure.
And Killian’s arm had been around him, hadn’t it?
And the age difference had probably been obvious enough.
But still, they’d only been eating dinner together.
It wasn’t like Chase had been blowing him under the table.
When Chase took too long to answer, his father sighed heavily. “Are you screwing one of your teachers, Chase?” he asked, each word said so slowly, like Chase was too stupid to understand otherwise. “Publicly?”
“It’s not—”
“Your mother and I have given you a remarkable amount of free rein, young man.”
Chase frowned down at his lap. “I never asked for that.”
“Excuse me?”
“The free rein. I never asked you to—”
“The amount of money we have—”
And then the phone was being plucked out of Chase’s hands, too quick for him to protest. He wasn’t sure if he would have, anyway. He wasn’t sure he could take any more of whatever this was that was happening.
Had he wanted them to be mad at him before? Had Chase really thought negative attention was better than none at all? Because actually, it sucked. He hated it.
Killian held the phone to his ear, and Chase had never seen him look so angry before. “Mr. Adler?”
Chase startled. It was weird to hear Killian calling his father that.
“This is the pervert alpha professor. I’m afraid you’ve interrupted our evening together.
You’ll have to call back another time. Preferably when you’ve cooled down and gotten your head out of your ass.
” His gaze darted toward Chase, his steely blue eyes softening the slightest bit.
“You have a wonderful son. I wish you deserved him.”
He hung up, then pressed a few more buttons on Chase’s phone, clearing his throat. “I’ve blocked his number until you’re ready to speak with him.”
“Oh. Okay.” Chase blinked at him. “That was strange.”
Killian’s expression was unreadable now that the anger had leached out. “You’re trembling,” he said, his tone nothing like the gruff, pissed-off voice he’d used with Chase’s father.
“Am I?” Chase held up his hand, and yeah, it was visibly shaking. He tucked it under his leg. “I’m okay. I thought I wanted him to pay attention, but that was—” He tried to shrug and didn’t quite manage it. “I didn’t like that, I guess.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Killian reached out as if to touch him, then redirected and swept a hand through his hair. “Christ, Chase. You shouldn’t have had to listen to any of that.”
“Can I maybe— Do you have—?”
Killian nodded, as if Chase had actually managed to formulate a question. “I’ll make you some tea.”
Chase had been about to ask for a beer, actually, but he supposed tea would be fine.
He’d be fine. He just … needed a minute.
A hot drink and half a movie later and Chase was fine. Really. He’d even told Killian that five or six times, although the alpha didn’t seem inclined to believe him.
But he was.
Sure, the few times Chase had imagined him and Killian going public, he hadn’t exactly pictured his father yelling at him over the phone and calling him a collegiate prostitute or whatever, but maybe he’d just been lacking in imagination.
They’d paused the movie so Chase could use the bathroom, and he took the opportunity to stretch and set his cup in the kitchen sink.
Killian followed him in—he seemed reluctant to let Chase out of his sight, and Chase supposed he should count himself lucky Killian hadn’t tried to follow him into the bathroom too.
Chase turned to lean his back against the sink. He needed to say something, if only to get that concerned look off Killian’s face. “I’ll just tell him it’s over.”
Killian blanched. “Excuse me?”
“My dad. I mean, they’re never around, and it’s not like we’re out in public very often.” Chase shrugged. “Seeing Mr. Hansen was a fluke. If it really pisses him off that much, I’ll tell him I ended it and that will be that. They’ll forget.”
“No.”
Killian’s refusal sounded calm enough, but there was a finality to it that even Chase, in his slightly numb state, could hear.
Chase … hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”
Killian folded his arms. “That doesn’t work for me.”
“Why not?”
Killian stared him down for a minute, then cocked his head. “What exactly do you think we are, Chase?”
For some reason, the question had Chase flushing. He suddenly felt hot. Too hot. Why was Killian putting him on the spot like this? “Um. Lovers?”
He immediately wanted to die. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t the heroine in some tragic romance. Couldn’t he have chosen a better word for it?
But Killian didn’t laugh. He only nodded. “Yes and no. I don’t think it’s any secret, after the rut we just shared together, that I have some very intense feelings for you, Chase Adler.”
That hot feeling intensified, centering in his throat now. Chase wanted to loosen his collar, but he wasn’t wearing a collar. He never wore a collar. He was a T-shirt guy. “W-What?”
Because what the fuck did Killian mean, it wasn’t a secret? It sure as shit felt like one to Chase. No one had told him that. Killian had certainly never told him that.
But he’s telling you now.
Killian kept staring at him, his arms crossed and his stance wide, the very picture of a stubborn, commanding alpha. “Chase.”
And it was horrible the way he said it. Softly. Kindly.
Whatever Killian was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it on Chase’s face. He uncrossed his arms, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Let’s try this: What do you want us to be?”
Now it was Chase’s turn to blanch. That hot feeling was replaced with a sudden wave of chill, like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over his head.
“I don’t know.” He tried for a laugh, and it sounded all wrong.
“Aren’t you in charge? You tell me what to do and I follow? Isn’t that how this works?”
Killian shook his head. “No, sweet boy. Not for things like this.”
Chase couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. His gaze dropped to his feet, and Killian seemed to take pity on him.
“I can tell you that I want us to be partners or boyfriends or whichever you prefer to call it,” Killian said. “I can tell you I want to be even more than that someday. But is that what you want?”
This was somehow worse than the angry phone call.
Worse than that soul-killing dinner with his parents.
Worse than anything. Because there were things Chase thought he wanted to say—things that maybe he wanted to ask for—but it was like he physically couldn’t.
It all got stuck in his throat, no room for it with all that hot panic, and he didn’t see any of it making its way out anytime soon.
What was wrong with him?
“Chase,” Killian said again, in that soft, kind way.
And it was too much. His attention, his kindness, the things he wanted Chase to know and talk about and ask for.
“I should probably go,” Chase said, wiping at his eyes. They were dry, though, so he didn’t know why he bothered.
Killian didn’t look angry. He looked kind of sad, which was somehow worse.
“I can— Let me think,” Chase told him, turning back to face the sink. He should rinse out his mug, shouldn’t he? It was rude to just leave it there. “For a while. And then I can …” He trailed off. He didn’t know what the end of that sentence was.
Killian’s silence lasted an unbearably long time before he asked, “Are your roommates home?”
There. That was a question Chase could find an answer to, wasn’t it? He dug his phone out of his pocket and checked his texts. “Yeah. They’re home.”
“Then go straight there,” Killian commanded, his voice thick. “Let the baby alphas comfort you.”
Something loosened in Chase’s chest. Yeah. He could do that. That was straightforward. Easy.
He turned back around, and there was Killian, looking kind of devastated, and suddenly it wasn’t easy anymore.
When Chase froze, Killian stepped forward, cupping Chase’s face in his broad hands. He spoke clearly. Firmly. “I’m going to give you space because you asked for it, and I want to give you all the things you ask for. But I’ll be waiting. Do you understand?”
Chase nodded, although he wasn’t sure he did.
He didn’t think he understood anything right now.
He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He wanted to turn back time, and go back to when they were just waking up from Killian’s rut.
He wanted to say no to dinner and order takeout instead.
He wanted to be on the couch right now, curled up in Killian’s arms, watching something neither of them cared about.
He didn’t know how to say any of that.
Killian gave him a hard look. “Text me when you’re home safe. Immediately, or I’ll be coming to check on you. The space starts after.”
And somehow that was that.
Chase left.