At least Sam was on good terms with him, unlike someone else.
Valen picked up a few cakes from the refreshments table. Got two of the strawberry cake squares that Sam had his eye on, and three éclairs. When he returned, Sam made to stand.
“No,” Valen said, crouching at Sam’s feet. “You sit. I’ll see if I can knock some sense into his head.”
“But I should go with you.” Sam looked at the plate of cakes, his mouth turning downward.
“It’s a lot of stairs, Sam.” Valen shook his head for emphasis. “I’m sure Big H would rather you stay put.”
“But there’s stairs in the mansion—”
“No.” He looked at Sam’s belly, and Sam sighed.
“Tell him I’m sorry, too,” Sam said. “I don’t know if he’ll come home with us tonight.”
“He’d better,” Valen said. “I’m not having him work on his day off.”
“Good luck.” Sam squeezed Valen’s hand.
Valen pressed a kiss to Sam’s lips, slow and lingering. Then he brushed his wrist over Sam’s belly and left him with the plate of cakes, jogging up the stairs.
The office was empty when Valen stepped in, save for Harris.
Harris glanced up from his screen. Met Valen’s eyes. Valen’s heart skipped. Then Harris looked past him, as though he was expecting Sam.
When it became clear that Sam wasn’t joining them, Harris turned his attention back to his computer, as though Valen wasn’t in the room. Valen growled, hurt.
He wove between the desks, passing the ultrasound photo on his laptop. Couldn’t help remembering that day at the clinic, when Harris had held their hands around the ultrasound probe.
Valen stopped by Harris’ desk, where Harris had a report pulled up on his computer.
He sighed. “Working on your birthday, Big H?”
Harris shrugged. Leaned back into his seat, and finally met Valen’s eyes. “Where’s Sam?”
“I left him with some cake.”
Harris’ frown deepened. “You left him?”
“It’s safe in the station.” Valen folded his arms, frowning down at Harris. “Sam says sorry.”
Harris grimaced. “No, it’s not Sam.”
Valen’s heart sank another notch. “So it’s my fault?”
Figured that he wasn’t good enough for Harris, when Harris had everything—the ranks, the money. Valen could offer Harris his ass, but at the end of the day, he was no omega. Couldn’t give Harris the baby he wanted.
“Look, let’s not talk about this,” Harris muttered, looking away.
His salt-and-pepper hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it. Even though it was just 3 PM, Harris’ eyes were tired, his jaw tight.
Valen wanted to reach forward, just to breathe him in. It wasn’t the same, breathing the traces of oak around the desk instead of sniffing it up right off Harris’ skin.
Their eyes met. Valen’s heart swelled. He hadn’t touched Harris all day, hadn’t tasted him. It was worse than the 24-hour shifts, because at least Harris wasn’t pissed with him then.
“Sorry,” Valen said. He’d probably grovel if he had to, get on his knees or something.
And it was quiet here, no one else in the office. Would be so easy to lean in, steal a kiss.
“Don’t,” Harris said.
“I didn’t think you could read me so easily.”
Harris snorted, the corners of his lips quirking up. But he leaned forward, stood in a rush of oak, and Valen’s heart leaped.
They stared at each other for a minute, Harris’ gaze raking over Valen’s face. Harris wasn’t stepping away—Valen realized Harris missed him. And something like relief unfurled in his chest.
So Valen cupped his hand against Harris’ nape, yanked him close, and their lips crashed together. Harris’ breath rushed over his skin. They kissed, hot and hard, Harris’ teeth dragging over Valen’s lips.
Harris slipped his tongue into Valen’s mouth, pushed in like the way he fucked Valen. Valen groaned. Leaned in, filled his lungs with oak.
Sam’s waiting, he wanted to say. Can we all go home now?
Harris curled his fingers into Valen’s hair, tightened his grip. It sent Valen’s blood south, sent musk coiling from his skin. If Harris touched him lower...
“Valen? Thought I heard—What the fuck, Harris?”
Ice stabbed through Valen’s stomach. They broke apart, chests heaving, the fire chief standing in the doorway of his office.
The temperature in the office dropped a hundred degrees. Harris stepped away from Valen, his lips thinning.
And all the relief from a minute ago evaporated from Valen’s chest. He looked at his dad, his heart kicking.
“I don’t know what I just saw,” Fred Tolstoy said, his lips curling in distaste. “Harris, what...? That is my son.”
Harris breathed out shakily. Valen’s face burned. He’d fucked up again, and this time, Harris would lose his job.
“It’s my fault,” Valen said. “I goaded him into it.”
But anyone could’ve seen that Harris had responded, that Harris was the one with his tongue in Valen’s mouth.
“That’s depraved,” the fire chief spat. “You’re my second-in-command, Harris. What the everloving fuck?”
Valen’s skin felt too tight. There were two options here—either he admitted to the relationship, or he got himself in trouble for it.
“That should have been handled privately,” Harris said. He wasn’t looking at Valen. “I was teaching him a lesson.”
“A lesson? I expected better of you,” the chief said, his cheeks ruddy. His eyes bulged out. “Haven’t you been beating him up? That was making out, Fields. Check your definitions.”
Valen snorted. “Beating me up?”
Harris slanted a look at him, but Valen couldn’t read his eyes. He should’ve been able to read Harris like he could read Sam, but maybe he’d been a shitty lover anyway.
“That boy needs a lesson. You told me you’ve been beating him up,” the fire chief said, jerking his chin at Valen. “Instead, I walk out to find you in this—this...”
“It’s a paid service,” Valen said. “I sold him my body.”
Disgust twisted through his father’s face. “You’re not my son, Valen.”
“No, the kid’s lying,” Harris growled. “We’re seeing each other.”
Valen’s heart missed a beat. He hadn’t expected Harris to say that. But he couldn’t have Harris losing his standing with the fire chief. “You paid me for it,” Valen said. Harris glared, but
