Chapter 12
Emerson forced himself out of the cabin before he said anything else that might get him in trouble.
He walked through the salon and opened the door out to the deck, the rain still falling hard.
Drawing in a deep breath, he calmed his frayed nerves.
What the fuck was wrong with him? What had he just said?
There were a lot of confusing thoughts and feelings circling in his head—thoughts he’d had long before that night mixing with new ones now that he’d finally gotten Dash into his bed.
He’d suffered for months after the last time they’d been near one another. No man had ever laid claim to his mind like Dash had. Emerson could love ‘em and leave ‘em better than anyone he knew, yet a man he’d never even fucked had had him in a fucking stranglehold for over half a year.
They barely knew one another—yet that wasn’t exactly true, either. From the first second he’d laid eyes on Dash, it had felt like they were long lost loves, finally rejoined after eons apart. His soul had known Dash’s, as if they were two halves of a whole.
During sex ed classes he’d taken what seemed like a million years ago, he’d learned that the soul connection and instinctive protective behavior were signs he might’ve met his mate—but that was only supposed to happen with an omega mate.
Dash wasn’t an omega.
He’d never believed in the whole fated mates bullshit.
How could he? It was the same system of rules that said he must be attracted to an omega.
If it had been wrong about him and the hundreds of other alpha-attracted alphas who’d danced their nights away at the Dragon, there was no way it was right about fate sending him one perfect omega mate to love until the day he died.
Yet he’d sensed that connection with Dash that he couldn’t understand.
Emerson had been unable to clear his mind of the man, even after months had passed without them seeing one another again.
The need to see Dash had festered inside, demanding he go and claim the man as if he were an omega mate.
He’d fucked other men instead, trying to rid himself of the obsession and failing spectacularly at it.
All it had done was leave him feeling guilty, like he’d cheated.
Logically, he knew he hadn’t. Dash had sent him away, unwanted. They’d had no promises between them to break. Still, the shame persisted.
When Dash had judged him, it had nearly broken him.
It was then that he’d come to the realization that he belonged to Dash. Right, wrong, or otherwise, they were one another’s people.
After being intimate, he’d sensed the bond between them had strengthened.
How could two alphas have a bond at all, though? Was it wishful thinking on his part? Maybe he was completely out of his mind.
Proof he might actually be insane? While lying under Dash, all he could think about was filling the man with his seed and… getting him pregnant. It was an impossibility, but he’d closed his eyes for a few seconds and seen Dash with a big, full belly—and it had pushed him to the edge of release.
The second Dash had taken his knot?
He’d nearly come on the spot.
Thank the gods Dash had finally come so he could let go.
After all was said and done, he’d realized what they’d done and the impossibility of it. He’d never fantasized about that with another alpha. Not a single one.
Emerson didn’t want an omega. Alphas couldn’t get pregnant. Alpha couples, being illegal, couldn’t adopt or use surrogacy, either. Emerson would never know fatherhood, and that realization had long ago destroyed him.
Fantasizing about Dash being pregnant was him torturing himself.
Growing up in a large, happy family of eight kids, he wanted a piece of that for himself.
Emerson had loved their chaotic little home, filled with noise and joy, when he’d been younger.
His parents were amazing. They’d had plenty of love to share with them all.
Not once had he felt unloved as a child, even being one of eight.
He’d never pass that same love on to children of his own.
Yet it was one thing to want to be a father and another to actively fantasize about impregnating an alpha he was intimate with.
But then, maybe he’d never been with a man he’d deemed worthy to give him children before. As if an alpha could.
Why couldn’t they be different men—and be together as they clearly were meant to be?
That thought made his chest ache and a growl rise up his throat.
Just fucking stop! It’s ridiculous… Let it go, already.
He slammed the door and walked to the massive control panel for the entire boat and turned the temp up higher.
The weather had given the boat a chill, and standing there tormenting himself hadn’t helped.
Dash had been shivering on and off all night, but Emerson had been too impatient to get the man into bed to warm the place up.
The quiet whirring of the forced-air electric heat kicked on.
The system was old as hell and didn’t work all that great—but that had never bothered him much.
Emerson ran warm most of the time. With the way Dash had been shaking, he knew the guy likely didn’t suffer the same problem.
He was an asshole for not turning it on sooner, but he’d assumed his body heat and their fucking might warm him plenty.
When he closed the box, Emerson turned and found Dash watching him from the other end of the salon. He sized him up, fighting a smile at seeing Dash in his clothes. Sure, the clothes were clean, but well-worn. Something of his scent still lingered in the fibers, and that lay next to Dash’s skin.
He’d almost hated wiping away the seed that had slipped from Dash’s hole.
He’d marked his mate, and he wanted the world to know.
It couldn’t know anything, though.
They’d never be able to share their connection.
Another low growl rose in his throat.
Dash shivered again.
“I just turned on the heat. It’ll hopefully warm up soon,” Emerson said.
He rushed past Dash and collected a pair of socks and a hoodie from his bedroom. After he re-emerged, he shoved the hoodie over Dash’s head.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m not,” Dash said before his head popped out of the hole.
Emerson knew he was. He urged Dash to push his hands through the armholes before pulling the long woolen socks from his pajama pocket. “Here. Put these on.”
“I’m good,” Dash said.
“You’ve been shivering all night.”
“Not from the cold.”
Emerson froze, meeting Dash’s gaze fully. A tingle rose up his spine, and he shivered.
Dash shoved the socks back into his hand. “You look like you need these more than I do.”
“What do you want to drink?” Emerson asked, walking over to the tiny kitchen and opening the fridge and pocketing the socks once more.
“Is this your home?”
Emerson popped his head out of the fridge, a bit confused by the question. “Part of the time.” He pulled out a bottle of water. Silently, he offered it to Dash as a question since he’d not gotten an answer.
Dash walked into the kitchen and took it. He snatched the cap off and gulped half of it. He’d said he’d been thirsty and clearly hadn’t been lying. “What’s part of the time? Where else do you live?”
Emerson grinned to himself, pulling out another bottle. He took a big sip, his gaze never leaving Dash’s. “Actually, part-time’s no longer accurate, if I’m being honest.” He looked around the boat, frowning. “I’ve answered that way for so long, it’s instinctive to say it.”
“Why’s it no longer accurate?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?” Emerson asked as he took a couple of steps closer.
“It’s what I do for a living. I dig for answers. Get used to it.”
Emerson grinned, taking one more step. “Get used to it?”
Dash’s cheeks turned pink. “I wasn’t implying anything.”
“Oh, no,” Emerson murmured, sneaking a little closer. “You were.”
Dash rolled his eyes. Emerson usually hated when someone did that, but for some reason he found Dash’s bad habit rather charming. He did it more when he was flustered, it seemed.
Emerson liked Dash flustered.
“You have questions? I’ve got answers. I’m a fraction over seven feet and about two-seventy-five of solid muscle.
I love all kinds of music, but hard rock is my go-to.
I like to fish, read, watch porn, and masturbate way too often.
My favorite color is…” He grinned, closing the gap between them and staring down into Dash’s eyes.
“Gray. Especially when there’s little flecks of blue in there, too. ”
Dash’s cheeks grew redder.
“And I really like it when you blush.”
“I’m not blushing,” Dash stated, lifting his chin arrogantly.
“Agree to disagree,” Emerson said.
Dash stared at his lips, looking awfully damned thirsty.
Emerson leaned in to quench that.
Before he landed one, Dash slipped away and leaned his bottom against the kitchen counter.
Emerson scowled. He crossed to the built-in couch. Glancing over a shoulder, he caught Dash lifting a hand to touch his cheek. To check the warmth?
Chuckling, Emerson took a seat, setting his water on the ledge beside him. He allowed his gaze to roam up and down Dash’s body before settling on those gray eyes he enjoyed so much. “You can sit, if you want.” He patted a spot beside him. “Or you’re welcome to use my lap again.”
“I’m good,” Dash said, taking another long sip of water.
Emerson eyed him. He was too far away. He fought the urge to drag Dash closer. Instead, he put those socks on to give his hands something else to do.