Chapter 23
The fastest way to anyone’s heart was through sex.
So why the hell wouldn’t the alpha fuck him?
Shiloh heaved a sound of frustration as he scrubbed himself down in the shower. It’d been several days of nothing but conversation, boring games, and the occasional movie, and he was getting frustrated.
True to his word, Sarang hadn’t allowed anyone else to enter the suite, meaning when the alpha wasn’t around, there was nothing to do and no one to pass the time with.
“I even gave the bastard books to read,” he grumbled, watching suds swirl down the drain before he aggressively slapped a hand over the control panel, turning the water off.
Stepping from the stall, he grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself, mind still stuck on the odd feeling of tightness in his chest.
The alpha made it sound like they were going to be together, and yet he avoided every single one of Shiloh’s suggestive remarks. He hadn’t offered him clothing, but didn’t allow his gaze to linger on Shiloh’s nudeness either.
“What the hell do you want, Rang?” he whispered to himself bitterly. At least when Shiloh had held the alpha, it’d been with a purpose and goal in mind.
What was Sarang’s goal?
What was he trying to achieve by keeping Shiloh here with nothing to do?
In the past during a disagreement, Shiloh had been able to easily wear the other man down with a pouty look, but now…
The real Sarang, much like the real Shiloh, were not the same men they’d portrayed these past four years, and it was seriously showing. On the one hand, realizing that did help Shiloh see his point. The two of them did have to grow reacquainted, had to relearn each other and adjust accordingly.
But why the fuck couldn’t they do that after the claiming bite?
Shiloh yanked the door open with more force than necessary, allowing the wood to clang loudly against the wall. He stepped out, toweling off his hair, and then paused just within the doorway when his gaze landed on the source of all his irritation.
Sarang stood next to the bed, setting down a slice of cake on the tray he’d been using to give Shiloh his meals. His eyes were already on him, a curious tip to his head.
“Let me out.” Shiloh dropped the towel to the ground and stood there, giving no reaction when the alpha’s eyes caught onto a water droplet at the hollow of his throat.
Sarang tracked it all the way down Shiloh’s chest, past his navel, lingering when it seeped into the dark hairs just above his dick.
The first real look had Shiloh’s body instantly reacting, his dick hardening under that heated scrutiny.
Afraid that it would cause the alpha to leave, Shiloh quickly covered it, retreating a full step when Sarang’s gaze snapped up to meet his once more.
Was the alpha disgusted by him now? By the things he could do to a person?
Sure, in the café, Sarang had murdered Shiloh’s would be kidnappers, but he’d been driven by his rut. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make it hurt like Shiloh had back in the parking garage.
While it was clear the alpha liked being aggressive in the bedroom, that didn’t translate to the rest of his life.
Sarang was still the person who took his duties as underboss seriously, killing for a cause, and not out of enjoyment or personal gain.
Unlike Shiloh, who’d got a little twitchy if he went too long without getting blood on his hands.
Had Sarang learned that part already?
Had he spoken to Diogenes or the others who’d known Shiloh in the past?
Was that the reason he wouldn’t sleep with him again? Because he found him twisted and psychopathic? A turn off?
How was Shiloh supposed to fix that if it were the case?
Panic started settling in his gut, and his dick went flaccid.
“What are you thinking, omega?” Sarang asked, sticking to the other side of the room, as though Shiloh’s naked body really did disinterest him.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” Shiloh admitted, voice low and pathetic.
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.” If the alpha ended up hating him, Shiloh would lose everything.
“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” Sarang said, continuing when that earned him a frown. “Love and hate go hand in hand. If I don’t hate you, then I’ll have to love you.”
“Hatred is a drive,” Shiloh disagreed. “Love is a chemical reaction.”
“They’re both chemical reactions,” he corrected. “That doesn’t make them any less real. Just because you haven’t seen it for yourself, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
There were many emotions that Shiloh didn’t have firsthand experience with, but the alpha was right. Love was the one thing he’d never been able to wrap his head around. As a concept, it seemed too extreme, and yet also too fleeting.
No one needed love to be loyal.
To be attracted.
To be angry.
But if that was something the alpha so strongly believed in…
“Don’t hate me.” Shiloh hung his head.
“Are you asking to be loved then, omega?”
He shut his eyes.
“Why are you embarrassed?” Sarang asked.
“I’m humiliated.”
“So you can feel humility after all.” He hummed to himself. “That’s interesting. But there’s nothing shameful about wanting to be loved. Everybody needs somebody.”
“You think I’m broken.” Shiloh was. He was damaged and raw. Had been two steps away from being considered feral until that day in the salt fields had changed everything for him. When he’d returned home, he’d refused his mother’s missions outright. Had put his foot down.
She’d been sick enough by then that she lacked the strength to stand against both him and Sloane. With the help of his sister, he’d successfully managed to free himself as their mother’s Hellhound, a position usually reserved for the worst of the worst.
The type of person who got off on causing pain and torment and wrecking lives.
Sarang wasn’t as squeaky clean as he’d led Shiloh to believe, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a good person at his core.
“How long have you liked me, omega?” Sarang surprised him by seemingly changing the subject.
“Always.”
“Be more specific.”
Shiloh pursed his lips. “I may have just been another poor soul to you, an injured omega in heat, all alone. You probably would have treated anyone else in my situation the exact same, I know that. But when you looked at me, it was like you were seeing someone who deserved the kindness you offered.”
No one had ever been kind to him until that moment.
He was given special liberties as the prince, yes, but his mother was strict, and she’d wanted her children raised tough.
It was more important to her that he and Sloane know how to defend themselves, than it was for them to know the spirit of selflessness.
“If you’d been anyone else, even if you chose not to take advantage of my situation,” Shiloh said, “you would have shown pity. But you never looked at me like I was weak. You looked at me like I was worthy.”
Shiloh had never been worthy before.
To his mother, he was a weapon, one she’d painstakingly crafted, and one she still didn’t feel like she could entrust her legacy to.
To his sister, he was a chain. The one thing holding her back, keeping her trapped within the Eumia when she wanted to leave it all behind. She could have. If she’d left him, her escape would have been easier.
To the Eumia, Shiloh was the prince by blood. Blood. Not skill. He hadn’t earned it. It was simply his. When he’d presented as omega, even as a dominant one, his presentation had caused a stir. Older members had been livid at the suggestion that an omega rule instead of an alpha.
His mother could have silenced them with death, but instead, she’d turned her frustrations on Shiloh and Sloane.
They’d been forced into more rigorous training. Made to endure all sorts of hardships and torture, all so she could point to them and boast “look how strong my children are. They don’t need to be alpha”.
As though being alpha was somehow better, or vice versa.
Neither could survive without the other. That was a cold hard fact.
“I’ve heard stories about some of your past missions,” Sarang divulged. “I know what you’re capable of doing to a man, how you can draw it out. You could give the Butcher a run for his money.”
“I can stop,” Shiloh offered.
“Stop?”
“If you don’t like it, I can change.”
The alpha cocked his head. “You’re frightened. Why?”
“I told you.”
“You didn’t.” Sarang’s gaze hardened slightly.
“It’s not just you who struggles to understand others, we find it difficult to see where you’re coming from as well.
Your brain works differently. In the same way you need me to speak plainly, I also need the same from you.
Try again. Tell me why you’re so worried right now. Use your words, omega.”
“Will you stop bringing me cake?” Shiloh stared at the thick slice of orange and white dessert, then to the small glass cup on the end table, where he’d been keeping the marbles the alpha kept bringing him.
He didn’t have to count to know there were exactly five.
He’d been looking forward to adding another to the collection today. “You’ve already stopped fucking me.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of? That I’ll stop taking care of you?”
“Will you?” He held his breath without realizing he was doing it.
“You’re the one who wanted to leave.”
“Not to get away from you,” Shiloh insisted. “I’m just going stir crazy in here.”
“Want to go slice a man open and blow off some steam?”
He flinched.
“Do you like giving pain more than you like receiving it?” Sarang questioned.
“No.” Shiloh worried answering honestly would make him look worse, but he gave it anyway. “Both help relieve the pressure.”
“How often do you feel the urge?”
He didn’t want to say.
“Omega.”
“Whenever we aren’t getting along,” he confessed. “Whenever I feel like you aren’t paying enough attention to me.”
Sarang seemed to find that surprising. “It’s not like you’ve ever actually needed my care. You’ve proven that you can handle yourself.”