Chapter Eight
Nemiah
Kiara brought Virion in a few minutes early, not that Nemiah hadn’t come straight from his lab not twenty minutes ago to sit and feign boredom. He’d caught himself twice that night wandering the hall, telling himself he was checking on Virion, making sure he was safe or adjusted somehow. Blush—Clover had chased him off the second time and he’d dared not return for fear of being mocked. The nymphs were loyal to a fault that he’d not understood until he was the outsider looking in.
Protecting my own husband from me. Nemiah scoffed and filed the notion away for later. Such longings were for lesser men not in control of their functions.
“You could cut the mood in this room with a knife.” Kiara swept by, patting Nemiah’s shoulder on the way by. “Did they tell you what was on the menu for this evening?”
Nemiah briefly entertained a response in his mind. Here’s hoping it’s my mate. Though he was far too poised to speak it aloud. “I never thought to ask.”
“My K—Nemiah.” Virion bowed his head in greeting, and Nemiah made a note to rid him of that particular habit.
“Thank you. I appreciate your attempts to be comfortable. There is no need to submit to me.” Nemiah stood and pulled out a chair, not beside him but opposite the corner for them to face one another a little. He rather liked looking at Virion. “How was the garden?”
“It was lovely. Your mother and I get along well.” Virion sat and tensed when Nemiah pushed him toward the table.
“She is quite agreeable. My father kept her for a reason. She made up for his lack of personality.” Nemiah offered a forced smile that Virion returned with a flat purse of his lips. “It is okay to laugh. Trust me. None in the palace held many fond feelings for the man.”
“So I hear, but I am still learning your temperament.” He relaxed marginally then settled when the squeak of trolley wheels signaled their meal had arrived.
Nemiah nodded wistfully. “I have to say. I do enjoy your caution, but you wear many emotions. You’re easy to read.” Nemiah sat back as an attendant placed a plate before him then Virion, a platter of light affair, vegetables and braised rabbit. Gaze flicking between his plate and Virion, he felt less inclined to eat rabbit.
“And I am not fond of trying to puzzle out your emotions. You hide them too well, but I do appreciate how happy your staff appears. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone less than content.”
“Because as long as everything gets done and I have my peace and quiet, they get paid. They can see to things as they see fit unless it bothers me, and I have an abundance of things that irritate me far more than an attendant with a shirt not tucked the way I please.” Nemiah waved his hand dismissively and held out a hand as an attendant walked by to place a glass of water in it.
“And I would assume that same standard would apply to myself?” Virion took his glass and brought the crystal to his soft, pink lips.
“I don’t see why not? As long as your duties are done—”
“And what would those be? Sex? My husbandly du—”
Nemiah sat his glass down a little too hard. The water sloshed as he did so. “I will not set standards upon you to fuck me. That happens when we decide and when we are comfortable with it. I only ask that you play the part when we have to entertain people and attend to your other duties as Mother passes them to you.”
“And those would be?” Virion sat his glass down, his gaze not meeting Nemiah’s. They flicked about his person as if gauging if he would be hit or not.
Nemiah sighed and leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back to close his eyes in exasperation. “Things that require a friendlier face. Business dealings, trade, shaking hands, and kissing babies. Things that I am not suited for. I have my father’s demeanor. Not his temper, fortunately.”
“Tell me who to be for you, then.” Virion picked his fork up and pushed a morsel of meat about.
“I could woo you with affectations and tell you that you’re my soulmate or to be kindly toward me, or I can tell you that your job is the same as any other’s in this forsaken place. To make my life easier. If that means eating with me, please do. If that means seeing to dignitaries while I’m occupied—do it. And I trust you have moral judgment to a capacity, so there’s the occasional squabble between citizens that will make it to the castle. Mother handles them for the time being, but I’ll insist that her duties are eased at some point, should you be willing.” Nemiah turned his attention back to his food and ate in silence, mind wandering. “I forgot to ask if you were well rested.”
“I am. Thank you.” Virion continued picking at his food, not out of distaste, as he seemed to enjoy what he ate, but likely nerves.
“Would you be interested in seeing more of the castle… My lab?” Nemiah pursed his lips and waited for polite rejection or perhaps a soft noise of agreement, but Virion’s response caught him off guard.
“A thalmalurgical lab?” His entire demeanor brightened.
“Mechathalmalurgical, specifically.” Nemiah took another bite, but Virion had lost interest in his dinner at the prospect of his lab. “Is that why you’d wanted to join the conservatory?”
“Oh. No. Not exactly. My father threatened to send me there if I continued to turn suitors away.” Virion relaxed enough to laugh and paused, brow creasing only slightly. Nemiah resisted the urge to lean forward and straighten the crease with his thumb. “Which is another reason it was strange because if he thought I was a six, why would he even have considered the conservatory for me?”
“I find it odd, too. But I’d rather not remind him in case he wants to take you back. You’re mine now, and nobody else’s.” Nemiah’s terse words caught Virion off guard, his puzzled expression falling away to that doe-eyed look. “Any objection?”
“None.” His cheeks flushed, and Nemiah offered him a wicked grin. Emotions were easy to conceal for him, but the telltale tingle in his magic restored the comforting weight of his horns and wings. Virion responded in kind, the pearlescent hue of his horns so small and sleek. One day, they’d surely have one another the way alpha and omega were meant to, bathing in the moon, letting the paleness of his skin glow under their goddess’s light. He envisioned them rutting shamelessly, letting more than their bodies connect but their spirits as well.
“Good.” Nemiah picked his napkin up, wiped his face, and stood, his wings rustling anxiously as he extended his hand. “Come with me.”
Virion took his hand, eyes wide with wonder. Those pale-pink eyes of his held the glow of his magic, rising to the surface the second their skin touched. “Show me this lab.”
“Straight to the point, my husband, dear. Come.” Nemiah led them from the table and down the hall, to the farthest part of the castle. Thalmalurgical labs were unstable at the best of times and were safest kept away from people, but Virion didn’t seem to mind. Their clasped hands, so warm and tight together, let their magic travel and when Nemiah threw the door to his lab open, Virion’s eyes went wide, gleaming bright with magic as he studied the contents.
“Thalm generators…” Virion rushed over to a machine of Nemiah’s own design, and in part, yes, it was a thalm generator. But it was also a prototype for long-distance communication.
“Thalm generator and transducer.” Nemiah grinned and flicked a few switches.
“What does it turn thalms into?” Virion’s slender fingers traversed the edges of the steel of its structure, opening the chassis without permission to analyze the wires within, each painstakingly wrapped in sugarmoth silk and tripvine sap to prevent fire. With a delicate touch, Virion studied the trail from the antennae to the bank of pure salicate crystal powder. “Turns it into a rapid pulse of something…”
Nemiah couldn’t hold back the surge of pride. He loved what he saw, the excitement and the joy in his mate’s eyes. “Rapid pulses of thalmic interference. I’ve managed to focus it on the sky and let it echo from sky to ground in a controlled formation. And the pulses carry—”
“Information! You can send messages.” Virion gasped as he pushed wires around to stare at the inside before withdrawing and closing it up.
“Letters as fast as you can enter them.” Nemiah puffed with pride.
“If you’re transducing thalmic interference and it’s that fast and you can transmit letters, can’t you just add the same thing they use in cadence chambers?” Virion glanced around the room, brow furrowed. The idea hadn’t quite occurred to Nemiah to convert the signal to sound like the tubes with ridges wound around it coded with the means to transmit sound by scratching a needle over it.
“And transmit voice…” Nemiah pulled Virion away from the machine and flush to his chest. Wrapping one hand around the gentle curve of his pearlescent horn, Nemiah tilted his head back and stared into his wide eyes. “Brilliant.”
Nemiah’s lids hooded, lips parted, and a kiss seemed inevitable. They drew in together, lips brushing. A peek of tongue reciprocated. Nemiah nipped his lip and suckled his tongue, groaning into it.
The kittenish whimper of pleasure Virion made caught Nemiah off guard and he deepened the kiss, hands traversing his back. Fingers wandered, cupping Virion’s ass to lift him and turn, hefting him onto a workbench with a metallic clang of tools. “What was your father thinking letting me have you, you brilliant, brilliant omega?”
“Not a d-damn clue,” Virion said. His entire body trembled beneath Nemiah’s touch, the groped hands over his soft ass squeezing as their mouths returned to their hungry kiss.
“What would you call this voice thing?” Nemiah parted their lips and tilted his head to clack their horns together, reassured by that solid touch.
“Telethalmic conversation? I’m not a na-namer.” Virion tilted his head, their horns rubbing with a gentle grind before Nemiah kissed his way to Virion’s neck, tongue trailing the tender skin there before he nipped, relishing the tender skin between his teeth and the heady scent of his mate’s arousal.
“Telecon…” Nemiah nipped and shuddered before pushing in to grind against Virion’s delightful hardness. “I never thought to transmit sound.”
“Wait to t-tell my father. I’d be happier not hearing his voice for a while longer, yet,” Virion whimpered and reciprocated the gentle rock of hips that Nemiah initiated.
“Or should I merely tell him it was your idea? He’d surely refuse to use it.” Nemiah chuckled and pulled one hand from Virion’s ass. He trailed the omega’s thigh to find the hem of his tunic and push it up, working his fingers into the rich folds of fabric until a rewarding stripe of bare skin met the tips of his fingers.
“Don’t talk about my father. Please.” Virion whimpered, submitting to his touch.
Nemiah couldn’t resist pulling his tunic up farther, dragging an errant nail over a small, pert nipple. The tiny whimper he made against Nemiah’s lips made blood pulse south and when he glanced between them, the hard outline of his cock stood in contrast under the dim thalm lighting of his lab, a soft yellow thing to ease strain on his eyes. The scent of slick and arousal greeted him when his hand roved over Virion’s ass, finding his waistband to slide his fingers past his belt, touching bare flesh.
Two polite knocks interrupted them, and Nemiah tore himself away, putting his cold and impassive face on as Virion scrambled off the workbench and fell with a yelp. “Yes?” Nemiah stared as the door swung open. His mother, as oblivious as anything, slipped in.
Of all the shameless… He scrutinized her for a moment as they exchanged knowing looks.
“Virion, dear? You alright? Nemiah isn’t being a bully, is he?” Kiara eyed Nemiah with a half grin and strode through, observing the lab with distaste. “The place is a sooty mess, dear. Should I have the attendants cl—”
“If they move one thing in here, I will make my father’s fits seem tame. I vow it.” Nemiah’s erection, forgotten, wilted as Virion stood, hair a mess, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed as deep as crimson as oxide.
“I don’t think you’ll have much of a say if I have anything to do with it.” She ran her finger along the surface of a charting table and brought back a finger smudged with splattered ink and careless spills. His gaze flicked to his workbench and found it in a similar state, streaked along Virion’s backside, much to his dismay. Nemiah swore beneath his breath. “Clover!”
A moment later, the door to the lab opened behind Kiara and the pinkness of nymph brightened the surrounding space. “Nemiah.”
Kiara gave the nymph a sidelong glance, cool as ice. She wasn’t much of a fan of the nymphs, not since Nemiah was a child and had to endure his father’s constant philandering, the nymphs being no exception to his ways.
“Get Virion cleaned up, please. His new clothes are soil—” Nemiah halted when Virion shot him a terse look and brought his hands to his backside, dusting himself off with a curl of thalmic power over his fingertips. The soot and oil staining his pants dissipated like nothing more than an errant streak of flour, gone in a gesture without even an incantation or focal element. No wand or stone. Magic on thought was a skill that few learned.
Nemiah couldn’t stop staring as he turned his back and left with Clover, lips pursed. Rage bubbled inside Nemiah, fierce gaze locking onto his mother as Virion slipped out. “Mother.”
Kiara gave Virion a polite nod on his way out and turned her attention back to Nemiah, grinning widely. “My son. What were you up to?”
“Thanking my husband for his astute contribution to my telethalmic messaging system.” Nemiah leaned over his workbench, digging his nails into the wood of the top.
“Contribution?”
“He’s far more powerful than I when it comes to magic, and intelligent, it seems. He suggested a way I could modify this to transmit voice.” Nemiah took a deep breath as his anger simmered down to a low ache in his chest. “Why did you interrupt?”
“Because you don’t need to rush him just yet.” Kiara glanced at the door and back at him. “You showed restraint at the consummation. Show some now. Fucking your husband over your filthy workbench… Really? Have I taught you better? Cement your bonds so it doesn’t break them.”
“Our bonds are cemented.” Nemiah put a hand over his heart and breathed slowly to wish the growing pain away. His magic needed Virion’s to be complete.
“You think so just because you are drawn to him if he’s as strong as you say. Exercise a little patience because you two have the potential to love one another, and I, for one, do not wish for you to have the relationship Behran and I had.” Kiara waved him off with a stern glance. “And stay out of his room, you hear me? You’re rushing him and behaving like a boor.”
Nemiah fisted his fingers tight into his palms as he let his head fall forward.
He had taken liberties. Of course, the omega would submit to him at a whim, but it felt right. The male was endearing and intelligent, but Nemiah’s body craved him.