Felix shrugs, turning the helmet around in his hands. But he keeps his eyes down, looking at the pavement. “It went okay.”
“About earlier,” Kade says, his pulse thudding. “I was just talking. About the alpha thing.”
A wave of pink creeps up Felix’s neck. You never got off on that before. They didn’t have a regular alpha-omega bond. Never had.
And Felix’s mouth pulls up in a tiny smile. “I understand. But don’t do that again. We’re not...”
Not bonded anymore.
Kade swallows, his heart aching. “Yeah, sure.”
They stand together, traffic rolling down the streets around them, not looking at each other.
“Want a ride?” Kade asks. He remembers a week ago, and where that question had led. Heat trickles through his torso.
Something eases between them when Felix grins again, warmth flickering in his gaze. He doesn’t look directly at Kade, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but he’s staying around, and he’s still holding on to the helmet. “Actually, I need to get to the thrift store, if that’s okay. I ran out of time before my shift started.”
“Sure. Which one?” Kade buckles his helmet. Felix slides onto the seat behind him, thighs bumping against Kade’s. His body hums.
“Rosie’s,” Felix says. “It’s five blocks down this street, on the left.”
“Okay.” Kade twists the key. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Felix’s heat pulls close as they join the traffic, a familiar, soothing warmth. Felix touches his fingers to Kade’s waist. Then his hand curves against Kade’s side, and Kade shouldn’t feel this thrilled. He can’t help it, though, when Felix squeezes his hip and his helmet bumps into Kade’s, as though he’s leaning in. As though he wants Kade closer.
He’s half-hard when they reach the thrift store. They’ve had sex once, and Kade can’t stop thinking about pinning him against a wall, kissing him senseless. He wants to mark Felix again, so he doesn’t smell like nothing.
“I’ll find my way home from here,” Felix says, slipping off the pillion seat. “Thanks.”
An icy jolt skims down Kade’s spine. He’s not leaving this soon. “I’m coming in with you.”
Felix’s eyes flicker up to meet his, forest-green and surprised. He sets the helmet down on the seat. “You really don’t have to.”
But Kade’s swinging his leg off the bike, tucking his own helmet into the trunk. “I’ll head in and look around. Friend’s birthday coming up.”
Which is a lie, but he’s learned enough from Felix to manage it. Sometimes, he doesn’t know if his tells originated from himself, or if they’re habits he’s picked up from Felix since their early years. At thirty, they seem so old, now.
Felix looks away, shrugging. “Fine, I guess.”
It isn’t fine, though. Felix holds his arms close, as though shrinking from everything else. Kade thinks about pulling off his own jacket and setting it over Felix’s shoulders, but hesitates. He doesn’t want the jacket shrugged off, slapped away.
So he tucks his hands in his pockets, following Felix into the store. Inside, the fluorescent lights shine down on cramped, circular clothes racks, shirts and sweaters and pants jammed together. Sunlight slants through the glass door, lighting books on the far wall. A jumble of picture frames, bowls, and lamps cluster on the shelves to the sides.
Felix glances over, as though wary that Kade would judge him. Kade shrugs. He’s been to thrift stores more often than he’d like, himself. “What do you need?” Kade asks.
“Sweaters, I guess. And some shirts.”
Felix pulls shirts off the racks at random. First a lumpy, knitted sweater, then a thin T-shirt three sizes too big for himself. He checks their price tags, then slings both over his shoulder, flipping through the rack. Once, he pauses at a white button-down shirt that would fit him perfectly, but he glances at the price tag, and passes.
“You’re changing your style?” Kade asks. He’s never seen Felix wear anything but fitting clothes; pants that cling to his legs, shirts that hug his chest.
Felix looks away, his mouth pulling into a tight line. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“No reason.” Felix steps over to the next rack, extracting a collared shirt, his eyes anchored on the clothes. It feels like a lie.
“You could just borrow mine,” Kade says, and swears inwardly. It’s not like Felix wants anything to do with him.
Felix flips through the clothes faster, his neck turning pink.“You should go.”
“You’re not... you don’t even look excited about these.” Kade frowns. Does Felix... like that idea? Wearing Kade’s clothes? Because the thought of Felix in his shirts sure as hell makes him want to mark his omega. Hold him close. It would make some of this right again.
While Felix sifts through the clothes, Kade returns to the previous rack, pulling out the button-down shirt Felix paused at. Five bucks. You’re not spending this money on yourself?
When he wanders back to Felix, his bondmate has a stack of lumpy, too-large shirts draped over his shoulder, like a mountain about to topple off. Kade thinks about the oversized work shirt Felix wore at the gas station, the way he’d blushed when Kade claimed him in front of the manager.
It doesn’t make sense next to his indifference, the way he refused to look at Kade while he worked. “Something happened?” Kade asks. “You don’t look okay.”
Felix’s bottom lip trembles, and tears well in his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” Kade says, but he’s stepping over, slipping his arms around his bondmate’s narrow back, pulling him against his chest.
The pile of clothes on Felix’s shoulder tips sideways, spilling onto the floor in a ragged heap. Felix sucks in a shuddering breath against Kade’s collarbone, his hands fisting in his shirt. Kade holds him close, as though if he doesn’t, Felix will slip away like a leaf on the wind.
5
Felix
All day, the secret has built in Felix’s chest. I’m pregnant. I’m carrying Kade’s child. Kade doesn’t know. Even when he tries to quell those thoughts, they bubble up in
