Chapter 4
The aroma of coffee mingled with bacon and sea-air, but Marcus couldn’t work up an appetite. The wooden chair creaked under him as he shifted, stomach tight.
“What will I say to him?” he muttered.
You could try good morning, Demeter teased in his ear. Your lion won’t bite unless you drink all the coffee.
“Demeter, out.”
Her chimes faded. Marcus covered his nerves with a cough. He already bit me, he thought, a shiver rising unbidden.
Leo stumbled onto the terrace, still half-asleep, beelining for the coffee. Passing Marcus, he squeezed his shoulder, dropped a kiss on his temple. A single, ordinary gesture—and it nearly undid him.
“Good morning.”
“It certainly is.” They shared a cautious smile.
Leo rumbled at the first sip, leaning against the wall, loose and glowing.
That rumble- Marcus couldn’t stop the flicker of memory — Leo’s hands braced on either side of him, the heat of his breath against Marcus’s throat.
The low, wordless growl had shaken the bedframe.
For a man who carried himself like stone, Leo had burned like an inferno in the dark.
“Like what you see?” Marcus teased uneasily.
“You’ve changed,” Leo said briskly. “Since we last met. You look… well.”
“Thanks to you,” Marcus said, flushing at the approval in Leo’s eyes. “Remember, I’m a criminal sentenced to hard labor.”
Leo winced.
“I’m sorry—it was my first day and I—”
Marcus had to rescue him.
“No! Listen. It’s been good.”
“You were not supposed to enjoy the labor! You’re an engineer.” Ares had a little smile, as brief as a flash of light, when he teased.
“Well, maybe I’m not an engineer anymore.” Since I don’t know anything about tubers or machinery. Being on the detail made hiding easier. And more fun.
The train hummed through the dome. Construction bots scurried like ants after a rain, raising the new town’s white walls toward the sea. Leo leaned down to see as the train turned.
“Do you think an old dog can really learn new tricks?” he asked.
Marcus gave his ass a brisk smack, equal parts happy and dismayed. You just smacked Bellator Invictus Leonus Agustus Ares, Lion of Mars and Hero of Phobos on his ass.
“You learned at least two last night, Fido.” he quipped.
“Fido?” There was that flash of blush again, the tiny twist of smile. “Well, I look forward to another lesson then.”
And so Marcus Ali Sutherland had a real fucking problem on his hands.
Days settled into rhythm—coffee, the sea, the train, and forcing his body to keep up with the forest crew.
It’s important work. And it’s… good. He didn’t like the feelings these ideas inspired.
Pride? Care? Optimism? How appalling. Marcus was lulled by the work—the little trees popped into each hole—arranging them in interesting groups.
It was intuitive, thoughtful work, if physically exhausting.
He desperately wished he was ten years younger.
Or he’d been a little less cavalier with his body.
Darla caught him laying flat on a stone and dropped beside him, not in the slightest bit out of breath. And her hair as gray as his?
“So,” she said. “How long will you make me wait before you tell me everything about your match?”
“My match?”
“Mar-Cassius,” Darla said, exasperation stamping her foot. “You matched with the Lion of Mars, Bellator Invictus and all!”
“I don’t know what you mean?” Marcus eluded. Leo’s private little smile… his big hands and good heart. “Shit Darla, I hate lying to him.” The truth spilled out. How Leo was kind, and serious, and let Marcus try new cook-in recipes on his iron constitution without complaint.
“He gave me these gloves.” Marcus held them up, showing the obvious care in their perfect fit.
“You like him,” Darla said, wagging a finger.
“A troubling development. He seems to be improving me in some way.”
“Disgusting. But listen,” Darla said, “Why not just keep the secret? Be Cassius.”
Marcus forced himself to sit up.
“I’m not Cassius! I mean, it’s a relief not being old Marcus. But new Marcus can’t lie like old Marcus.”
“Do you hear how derailed you sound?” Darla sounded exasperated. “How big is this man’s cock that you have upended your entire personal code for it?”
Tilting his head back he let the breeze run over his closed eyes, the smell of pine smoothing the lines between his brows.
“It’s enormous,” he said, sending Darla into a side roll of hysterics.
Sea Town climbed the inner slope of the dome, all pale stucco walls and exposed framing.
Marcus and Leo liked to take the long way from the train to explore.
The glow from the artificial sunset shimmered through the mist of the sea generators below.
Marcus liked it here—the sound of the waves against the glassy shore, the smell of wet stone and salt.
Walking somehow made talking easier, as they tried to get to know each other.
“We could ask each other questions,” Leo proposed.
The sky above the dome was still pink from the false sunset, the air humming faintly with the pulse of the biosphere.
Marcus wanted to ask a hundred questions, but what came out surprised even him.
“Why did you say yes?”
Leo slowed, boots scuffing on the gravel path. “To the Match?”
Marcus nodded.
“It was the first choice I’d been given in a long time.” Leo’s voice was quiet, almost lost under the sound of the surf. “And it was you.” He gave a small, helpless shrug. “That settled it.”
Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat, moved despite himself.
“Why?” he managed, forcing a crooked grin.
Leo looked at him sidelong. “You’re my Match.”
That should have made him proud, but instead it hollowed him out. Cassius was your match. He deserved you. I don’t.
By the time they reached the edge of town, the noise had fallen away. The path opened onto a half-built terrace overlooking the sea.
“And you?” Leo teased. “Were you looking for love? All that Designed for Belonging nonsense?”
“I think I’d mostly given up,” Marcus said before he could stop himself.
Leo turned toward him, brow furrowed.
“That’s hard to believe.”
When Leo looked at him like this—serious, intent, utterly present—it undid him. Marcus wasn’t used to being seen. He was the bad twin, the disappointment, the mistake people forgave out of pity or forgot out of convenience.
“I had plenty of bed partners,” Marcus said, his voice rough. “Nothing lasted. It was never the right time. Until…now.” The idea terrified. It isn’t the right time now either. Because none of this is real. Until I tell him the truth.
Marcus stopped beside Leo, who was tracing the edge of a half-finished wall with his fingers, testing the rough plaster. The gesture was small, thoughtful. The wind off the sea stirred his coat, caught in the gray at his temples.
“It reminds me of a legionnaire hall,” he said softly. Seeing Marcus he flashed his smile. “I don’t know what this life will bring, little fox. But I’m grateful we took this chance, you and I.”
Marcus couldn’t answer. He looked out at the shimmer of the makeshift ocean, its surface rippling under artificial stars. Gratitude and guilt tangled sharp in his chest. Six weeks.