What good was loving someone, if you could only watch them from afar?
He got home, showered. Drew the blackout curtains and got into bed, trying to sleep.
Spent the entire time thinking about Valen, the sandalwood scent so damn strong on the other side of the bed.
Harris scowled at the heavy covers. Wasn’t like there was any point, sleeping on Valen’s side of the bed. Valen wanted nothing to do with him. Harris was his alpha, and look what he’d done to Valen.
But Valen’s side whispered at him, that sandalwood scent comforting.
Harris shifted an inch. Then another. Then he was burrowed into Valen’s side, Valen’s pillow smelling like old sweat and drool and musk.
Harris closed his eyes, burying his face in the pillow. Pulled the covers over himself. Drifted in and out of sleep—his body was tired, after the stress of the last twenty-four hours.
Harris didn’t hear the knock on his door. Then someone tapped on the covers, and for a moment, in his half-asleep haze, he thought it was Valen come home, Valen wanting to burrow in bed with him.
He pulled the covers off his head, his heart kicking.
“Harris?” Sam whispered, all dahlia and honey. “Can I... sleep here?”
Harris only saw the thin shape of him in the dimness, heard the raggedness in his voice. Wasn’t sure why Sam would ask to share the bed.
“Please?” Sam asked, his voice cracking.
Sam needed someone; that hit Harris like a brick to his stomach. He folded the sheets down, pushed himself toward the middle of the bed. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”
Didn’t know what the hell he was doing now, either.
Sam crawled into his arms and pressed his face into Harris’ shoulder, and Harris realized Sam’s cheeks were wet. His hair smelled like the sterile scent of hospitals, like dahlia, and a bit like sandalwood.
“I can’t sleep,” Sam mumbled. “I’m scared.”
Harris sucked in a shuddering breath. Slid his arm around Sam, something in his heart easing. Sam felt small against himself, needing. Harris could lend him some comfort.
Even if he’d fucked up, maybe he still had some use, holding Sam. Maybe Sam would forgive Harris, even if Harris couldn’t forgive himself.
18
Sam
All night, since Harris’ call, Sam had been shaking, lost. Valen was in the hospital. For the past weeks, Sam had been snuggling up against him, touching him, thinking he had forever with Valen, now that he’d found Valen again.
He hadn’t thought Valen’s job could put him in danger, hadn’t thought Valen could fade from his life so easily.
Valen had been so motionless on the hospital bed. He was strong, all broad shoulders and muscle, but that hadn’t helped, had it? He could still die, could have something go wrong with his lungs, and just like that, Sam could lose his alpha.
There was nothing Sam could do to help.
The look on Harris’ face at the hospital... Harris had been furious. Worried. He’d held Sam’s hand too tight, like he’d been lost in his own thoughts.
As Valen’s superior, Harris probably blamed himself for what happened. And it was difficult, wasn’t it? Being responsible for putting Valen in hospital. Seeing that happen to someone you loved.
Because there was no doubt about that, now—Harris loved Valen. Valen had doubted him, had thought Harris was dating him just because. But perhaps Valen hadn’t known where to look for his answers all along.
“Will he be okay?” Sam mumbled into Harris’ shoulder, breathing in Harris’ oak scent.
“I don’t know.” Harris’ breath rustled warm against his neck. “I want him to be.”
Harris slid his hand down Sam’s back, trembling.
“I don’t think Valen will blame you,” Sam whispered.
Harris huffed, the sound short and harsh. “No, he won’t. But that was my fault. And if he—if he...”
He cut his words off, but Sam heard the pain and regret in his voice. If Valen dies...
It was too terrible to think about.
Sam pressed a kiss to Harris’ shoulder. “I’m here,” he mumbled. Then he kissed the warm skin of Harris’ throat. “He’ll be okay.”
Harris sucked in a sharp breath. “Sam.”
“It doesn’t help for everyone to be hurting right now,” Sam said. Valen wouldn’t want Harris to submerge himself in guilt.
So Sam kissed Harris’ stubbled jaw, breathing in the trace of smoke and ash on his skin, and oak. He sank his teeth lightly into Harris’ jaw, like Valen had told him to.
Harris swallowed audibly. “Did he—Did Valen tell you to do that?”
“Yeah,” Sam whispered. “Valen told me the things you like.”
“Gods,” Harris breathed, winding his fingers into Sam’s hair. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.”
Sam splayed his hands across Harris’ bare chest. “I want,” he said.
He pressed his entire body against Harris, realizing now that Harris was naked.
But he’d started this, and he wasn’t about to stop.
In the dimness of the room, Sam pressed a kiss to Harris’ chin, then the corner of Harris’ lips, his heart thundering in his chest. “Harris, please.”
“What do you want?” Harris rasped.
“You.”
Harris’ breathing hitched. “You’re serious about this.”
“I am.”
And he was, when Harris had looked at Sam like he was stripping Sam down in his mind, exposing his most intimate parts. In Harris’ car two weeks ago, Sam had thought Harris would kiss him, but Harris hadn’t.
So he kissed along Harris’ jaw, then his cheek. Harris wasn’t leaning away. His breath fell humid and heavy on Sam’s throat, and Sam breathed in his oak, running his hands up Harris’ sturdy chest. Harris felt like everything Sam had remembered from that very first day.
Valen’s sandalwood scent lingered, a reminder that he was supposed to be here. Valen had to be okay. He had to get better. He couldn’t get worse, like Harris had been worrying about.
“I can’t do anything about Valen right now,” Sam whispered. “I need to stop being so scared. Please.”
Harris groaned, his lips dragging against Sam’s cheek, soft and warm. “You’re Valen’s.”
“Valen said you can have me, too.” Sam slid his fingers down Harris’ chest, over the hard
