13. Chapter 13
Tarymn
T arymn watched Ludiin walk out of the cooking station, a strange ache unfurling in the pit of his stomach, clawing its way up into his chest.
Ludiin was only doing what was best for himself, choosing his own path. He didn’t have to listen to him.
So why the hell did it hurt? The question burned as Tarymn stalked off to the gym, where he buried his feelings in the punching bag, each blow a desperate attempt to beat out the mess in his chest until his muscles screamed and his legs gave out beneath him.
But the harder he pushed himself, the worse it became.
The days bled into each other, and soon he couldn’t go a single one without fighting his feelings into exhaustion.
And when he wasn’t in the gym, his thoughts were on Deltta and the disaster the planet was slowly turning into.
Guilt gnawed at him, whispering that he’d failed, that he should have seen it coming, should have stopped it before everything went to shit. Should have stopped Pharyi and his friends as soon as he heard them at the sphere, fuck the evidence.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Prita asked, his gaze fixed on the connector buzzing insistently on Tarymn’s desk. He shook his head. “It’s Maxus. He keeps asking when I’m coming back.”
The truth was, Tarymn didn’t know. After everything that happened, the thought of returning to work felt wrong. Though going back to work might have distracted him from thinking about a certain omega and his fucking feelings.
He needed a moment, a break from it all. Living in the same house with Ludiin was becoming increasingly hard to do.
His feelings were… with a small shake of his head, Tarymn pushed the thoughts aside not ready to face whatever was brewing in his heart. But still, he made no move to answer his connector. It kept ringing, each note shriller than the last, swelling in the silence.
“Fuck, I can’t take it,” Pitra muttered, snatching the device. He shot Tarymn a reproachful look before answering. “Yes, Alpha King, it’s Pitra.”
Tarymn only half-listened, his gaze drifting to the ceiling.
If he focused, he could pick out the faint sounds of Ludiin moving above him as he murmured nonsense to himself.
He used to lie on his couch and let those small noises fill the silence, a quiet comfort he hadn’t realized he’d come to miss.
“Yes, he’s here… No, he doesn’t feel well.”
A pause.
“I’ll let him know.”
Another pause.
“Yes, of course.”
When Pitra finally set the connector back on the desk, Tarymn asked. “What does he want?”
“He’s coming. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Tarymn swore under his breath. “What the hell? I thought you told him I’m not feeling well.”
“I did. But he wants you back.” Pitra’s tone was resigned. “He’s not going to take no for an answer.”
“Fuck, Maxus.”
Pitra tilted his head slightly, as if catching something only he could hear. “I think that’s him right now.”
The low, distinctive hum of a hover pod reached Tarymn’s ears a moment later, tightening his gut.
“I’ll go let him in,” Pitra said, already moving.
“Why?”
“He’s the Alpha King,” Pitra replied without hesitation. “No one says no to him.”
“Right,” Tarymn muttered, dragging a hand down his face. He watched Pitra disappear out of the office, and a few tense minutes later, he returned, flanked by Maxus himself.
Tarymn rose to his feet to greet the new Alpha King, a bitter feeling swirling in his chest. He never thought he’d see this day. But it was here, and the truth was that he was half responsible for it.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” Maxus said.
Shit. Tarymn tried to rearrange his expression into something neutral, but he failed. He gave up on pretending and chose honesty instead. “Everyone’s on edge lately.”
“Yeah,” Maxus said, crossing the room with the ease of someone who owned it. He sank into the couch, unbothered, as if the tension between them wasn’t there. “I’ll get to the point then. I need you back. I need someone on my side in the council of alphas.”
“The only side I’m on is Deltta’s. Since he’s gone, I…”
“Even better. My brother’s ally is my ally,” Maxus cut in smoothly. “I just need you there. Things are going to get worse before they get better, and I need someone I trust in my corner.”
“You trust me?”
Maxus gave a short nod. “My brother trusted you.”
“Look where that got him,” Tarymn said flatly.
“Now you know how dirty they play.” Maxus leaned forward, his voice urgent. “I need you, so we can figure this shit out together.” Rising, he strode to the door with an air of finality.
“I haven’t said yes.”
Maxus only shrugged, glancing back over his shoulder. “I know you’ll do the right thing. Deltta trusted no one, but he trusted you. That’s good enough for me.”
Fuck. Tarymn scrubbed a hand down his face as he stood. “Yeah, he put his trust in the wrong person. You shouldn’t make the same mistake. I’ll walk you out.”
Maxus’ lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. The alpha turned and made for the door. Tarymn trailed behind him.
“You’re really not coming back,” Maxus said, stopping beside his hover pod. The operator hopped down and swung the door open for him.
“No.”
Maxus gave a short nod before climbing inside. Tarymn stood still, watching the pod drift down the residential airway to merge with traffic, his chest tightening with guilt and the simmering rage he fought hard to hold back.
Damn it, Maxus. Why did you have to come?
Tarymn thought, rubbing a hand over his face as he stepped back inside the house.
He froze, his gaze falling on Ludiin walking down the stairs, a light bounce in his step, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as if he knew something the rest of the world didn’t.
The matching loungewear hung loose on his lean frame, the fabric swaying gently with his movement, while his hair was gathered in a loose bun with one of those colorful hair bands Hym had given him, the strands framing his face in effortless disarray.
He looked soft. Innocent. Fuckable.
Tarymn’s heart thudded in his chest. His hands curled into fists at his sides as need surged through him.
“Tary,” Ludiin said, pausing at the landing. His smile faltered as if he sensed the tension between them. The magnetic pull. “I… I was going to make a snack… to eat,” he said unnecessarily.
“Okay,” Tarymn replied stiffly, every cell in his body screaming to close the distance between them. But he stood rooted, waiting until Ludiin turned and disappeared into the cooking station. Only then did he let himself exhale.
Fuck, he silently groaned, shoving a hand through his hair until it stood on end. Frustration tangled with desire, sharp and unbearable, and he could feel his control cracking. One more push and he’d snap.
He couldn't fucking have that.
He turned on his heel and stormed into the gym, where he spent the entire day driving his fists into the heavy bag, until his knuckles throbbed and his muscles screamed.
He dropped down on the mat, dragging air into his lungs. The gym door whooshed open a few minutes later, and heavy footsteps broke the silence. Tarymn sniffed the air before turning toward the intruder.
“Sirhe, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough from exertion.“Pitra told me you were fucking losing your mind. Is it true?”
“That little…” Tarymn growled, his top lip curling.
“Don’t be mad at him. He’s just worried,” Sirhe said, stepping closer. His eyes scanning him in that detached, clinical way that made him feel like one of his patients.
“Stop hovering. I’m fine.” Tarymn waved him away as he sat up.
“Okay.” Sirhe shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze drifting around the gym as though he had all the time in the world.
“How is Deltta?” Tarymn asked, throat tight.
Sirhe turned, his gaze boring into him. “Go check on him yourself.”
Tarymn pushed himself up from the mat and stalked to the door, but Sirhe’s words stopped him in his tracks.
“You’ve always been excellent at running from your feelings,” Sirhe said quietly. "The moment something threatens that iron control you cling to, you run. But tell me, Tarymn… how long can you keep living like that?”
Tarymn whirled around to face him. “I’m not running,” he snapped. “I’ve never run from anything in my life.”
“From where I’m standing, you’re running,” Sirhe shot back. “Deltta needs you. And you’re down here punching out your feelings when you should be trying to fix this.”
“Fuck, Sirhe.” Tarymn growled. “Maxus connected with you, didn’t he?”
“He did. And he’s right. Go back. Fix it.”
“If I go back I’ll kill those bastards,” Tarymn admitted roughly.
“Is that why you won’t go?” Sirhe asked, voice softening.
Tarymn could only nod. “I don’t think I can be in the same room with them. I’d lose it. Hearing what Gyry and his cronies did nearly made me kill him. After what they did to Deltta, what do you think I’m going to do? I’ll fucking go murderous the second I see them.”
Sirhe came up close and laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You won’t. You’re stronger than that.”
“How do you know?” Tarymn whispered.
“I just do,” Sirhe said, giving Tarymn’s shoulder a firm squeeze before letting go with a low chuckle. “If it were Hym, then I’d really start to worry.”
A rough laugh escaped Tarymn. He rubbed his arms, wincing when his palms came away slick with sweat, his skin clammy from hours of punishing his body.
“We should grab a drink,” he muttered, trying to shake off the heaviness in his chest. “I’m sure you need one. I know I do.”
“Sure.”
“Let me clean up first,” Tarymn added, turning toward the door. His mind already focusing to what he needed to do.
He had to bring Deltta back.
***