44
Kade 18 Years Ago
A few months after Kade turns twelve, he presents as an alpha.
It doesn’t feel like much. He smells like himself in one class, and in the next, he smells like pine and cedar, and the kids around him start to look over. When he passes by Mrs. Mulberry’s desk, she pushes her glasses up her nose and says, “My, we’ve got a new alpha here. When you get home later, remind your parents to go through the expected customs with you.”
Kade grins, standing taller. His dad has been predicting it for the past few months, and his mom guessed it two years ago. He salutes and steps out into the hallway, heading for the art classroom.
When the wooden door opens, a stream of students flows into the corridor. Some glance over at Kade, but most are eager to head for home. Kade squeezes into the classroom, spotting Felix in the far corner, tucking his brushes back into his bag.
“Felix!” Kade calls.
“Keep your voice down,” the art teacher says, but Kade’s running down between the desks, waving his arms.
“Guess what,” Kade breathes. Felix’s eyes widen when Kade’s five desks away, his nostrils flaring. “Guess what, guess what, guess what?”
“Oh gods,” Felix says, his mouth falling open. He leaves his watercolors on his desk, hurrying over to meet Kade halfway. “You have a smell!”
“I’ve always had a smell,” Kade says, but he straightens his back, puffing his chest out.
Felix stops inches away, green eyes roving over him. “You don’t look different,” he says. “But your smell—you smell so good, Kade.” He leans in, sniffing deeply, breathing out, sniffing again, and his eyelids flutter shut. “Mm. I could smell you for hours.”
Kade brings his hand up, showing Felix the wrist with the silvery scar. “It’s strongest here.”
Felix presses his nose to Kade’s wrist, his breath puffing humid against Kade’s skin. “Oh, wow.”
“I want to smell you forever,” Kade says, grinning. Sure, he smells like pine and cedar now, but Felix’s scent is still the best. “You smell like lavender,” he says. “Sweet, but not like honey. Just right.”
Felix blushes, lowering his gaze. He turns back to his desk and packs up the rest of his pencils. “You’re just being nice.”
“No, I’m not. And I can prove it.”
Felix laughs. “How?”
“By marrying you.”
Felix giggles, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Sure.”
“Just wait,” Kade says. “I’ll get you a ring.”
“Are we allowed to marry if we’re twelve?” Felix asks. They head down through the hallways to the playground, and no one bothers them. Kade has built them a reputation among the school kids, breaking the bullies who dare touch Felix. Felix is a lot happier for it—his cheeks rosy, his eyes sparkling, and he’s stopped hunching over.
“Maybe not twelve. But soon.” Kade slips his hand into Felix’s, savoring the way his skin clings to his bondmate’s, the way Felix steps closer and bumps into him.
“I’ll be expecting a ring,” Felix says. He pulls his hand out of Kade’s, running backward and blowing a raspberry. “Race you to the sand pit!”
“The race is on,” Kade yells, and Felix laughs, dashing away.
45
Felix Present Day
Over the next month, they settle into a routine.
In the mornings, Kade turns off the alarm clock. When Felix wakes, he finds Kade at his computer, keys tapping away. That happens when Kade has a project due, or when Felix oversleeps. Sometimes, when Felix crawls out of bed, the sheets rustle off his skin, and Kade turns to look at him, a tiny smile curving his mouth.
When he crawls out of bed, Felix helps Mrs. Brentwood with breakfast. Kade eats with them, and when he shuts himself away to work, Felix weeds in the garden, or paints a new series of watercolors—flowers and succulents.
Twice a week, Kade accompanies Felix to the park. They bring along Felix’s easel and watercolors, and while Kade taps away on his laptop, Felix paints.
“You never talked about rent,” Felix says in the park one day, halfway through a painting. They’ve never mentioned it, and Felix has been waiting for Kade to demand payment, somehow.
“Do we need to?” Kade glances up from his screen, dappled sunlight falling on his face.
“Yes.”
But Kade shrugs, looking back down. “Twenty bucks?”
“You’re kidding.”
“You asked. I decided.”
Felix shakes his paintbrush at him. How can Kade not ask for more? “That’s not fair to you. I should decide on a fair amount.”
“The fair amount is zero,” Kade says, meeting his eyes steadily.
“Why?” Because it doesn’t make sense. Kade has put up with him, let him sleep in his bed, and... Oh. “The sex paid for it?”
Kade rolls his eyes. “No. I told you, it’s free if you stay in my room.”
Well, he’d forgotten about that bit. Felix grumbles, daubing aquamarine splotches for water under a bridge. The baby moves in his belly. He sets a hand on it, feeling it squirm, and his spine aches a little. “I’ve gained weight.”
“You look fine,” Kade says, glancing up from his laptop. His gaze rakes over Felix, as though he can see through Felix’s loose shirt and pants. Felix shivers.
When they walk home after, the sun glares down on them, and the air around shimmers with heat. Kade hefts Felix’s easel under one arm, his laptop in the other. By the time they step through the front door, Kade’s skin glistens. Felix can’t help sniffing at his musk, leaning in to lick at the fresh sweat on his throat. He wants Kade pressed up against him, wants Kade’s scent all over his skin.
“I’m gonna shower,” Kade says, setting the easel down just inside the foyer. His eyes darken. “Join me if you want.”
“I’ll grab a change of clothes,” Felix says, staring when Kade strips the tank top off his chest, his pectorals flexing. “See you in a bit.”
Kade smirks, reaching over to squeeze his ass, before brushing by in a whirl of cedar and pine.
I should hurry. Felix swallows, stepping toward the bedroom. Kade’s waiting upstairs.
He grabs a change of clothes from the
