Quite by accident, Brogan ended up spending the bulk of his weekend at the Danvers house with Liam, the pair of them pitching in to help Morris and Jaysan acclimate to their new life. Jaysan was still sore from his surgery and on bed rest for a few days, which left a befuddled Morris in charge of both Aeron and newborn Morgyn whenever Morgyn wasn’t sleeping or being breastfed.

Morris was a kind, gentle alpha, but even he wasn’t very good at wrangling two young kids at once, and Brogan didn’t mind. Plus, with both Peyton and Layne in the house, Aeron was occupied most of the time, giving Morris a chance to dote on his mate and newborn.

The afternoon Jaysan came home, Braun and Kell stopped by to visit. Kell was incredibly apologetic for not visiting in the hospital, but Jaysan just shook his head. He understood, and the pair hugged for a long time, Jaysan whispering words of encouragement to his still-expecting friend.

Brogan remained curious about the investigation into that audio recording, but Braun didn’t know much, and no one had called Brogan with new information, so he tried to forget about it going into the weekend. He talked to Mikel on the phone frequently, simply to hear his voice and know about his day, the books he was reading, how he was feeling. The phone wasn’t as good as seeing Mikel in person, and Brogan missed his kisses and hugs, but Mikel insisted he was okay with them being apart for a few days. Jaysan and Morris needed their friend.

Which was true, but Brogan also needed his bondmate.

And when Brogan returned to the Li house by weekend’s end, he was thrilled to find Mikel in the kitchen cooking him dinner. Peyton squealed and barreled into the kitchen shouting, “Dada!”

“Daiya and Yeoman are out,” Mikel said as he hefted Peyton onto one hip, trying to keep him away from the grease-splattered apron. “I, ah, tried to cook fried chicken.”

“You did?” Brogan wandered over for a long kiss hello. He’d have hugged Mikel if not for the greasy apron. “It smells good.”

“Hope it does more than smell good. I’d hate to poison us both my first time trying to cook from scratch.”

“You could have chosen something a little less daunting, like a salad.”

Mikel huffed. “Salads are boring. And it isn’t special if it isn’t a challenge. You’ve been so kind to your friends these last few days. You deserve a treat, and Daiya said you love fried chicken.”

“I mean…” Brogan surveyed the absolute mess of the kitchen, from the clouds of flour to the grease splats all over the stovetop. “You could have ordered takeout. But I love the gesture, it’s so wonderfully sweet.” He leaned up to kiss Mikel again. “Thank you for cooking for me, alpha.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Fyed chick’n,” Peyton said. “Yum!”

“You can have some chicken when it’s ready,” Brogan said. “Can I do anything?”

“There are some cold deli salads in the fridge,” Mikel replied with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t want to tempt burning down the kitchen by cooking more than one thing at a time from scratch.”

Brogan laughed. “Good plan. I’ll set the table.”

Peyton whined about chicken, so Brogan stuck him into the high chair with a warm drumstick to keep him from being underfoot. He set two places before getting the potato salad and coleslaw from the fridge, plus the bottle of hot sauce. Brogan loved hot sauce on his fried chicken. Mikel got the platter of warming chicken out of the oven and placed it in the center of the table. Golden brown and extra crispy judging by Peyton’s big bites of his drumstick.

“Hold on, let me just…” Mikel grabbed the meat thermometer off the counter and stuck it into several different pieces. “Okay, we’re good. I seriously do not want to make you sick, and chicken needs to cook through.”

“Yes, it does.” Brogan took a thigh and wing, because he loved dark meat the best, then scooped out some of the salads. His stomach grumbled with appreciation of the food, and lunch suddenly felt like a lifetime ago. He picked up the thigh and bit right into it.

Perfectly crunchy coating, juicy meat, all kinds of flavor….wow. Brogan had the entire thigh picked clean, only bones left behind and not even missing the kick of hot sauce, before he looked up. Saw Mikel staring at him with heat in his eyes. “What?”

“Must be good,” Mikel replied. “You look like you’re having an or—um.” He glanced at Peyton, who wasn’t paying them any mind. “You know.”

“It’s delicious, Mikel, I promise. This is amazing for your first try.” Brogan ripped into his wing next, no time for the salads, because yum. He had a second wing down when he glanced at Mikel’s plate. Mikel was still picking over a breast and had eaten some of his salad helpings. “Don’t you like the chicken?”

“No, it’s really good.” Mikel’s lips twitched. “I’m enjoying watching you eat more.”

Brogan’s dick perked up at the intent in Mikel’s eyes. “How late are Daiya and Yeoman staying out tonight?”

“Pretty late, I think.”

“Good. Maybe I can coax Peyton into an early bedtime.”

Mikel grinned.

Peyton wasn’t into an earlier bedtime. Since it had been three days since he’d last seen Mikel, Peyton wanted to play with “Dada,” so Brogan let them entertain each other while he cleaned up the kitchen. For a little while, Brogan pretended this was their home, their family, and they did this every night. Dinner, bonding, loving each other.

The fantasy carried him through scrubbing grease off the stovetop and coaxing bits of caked flour and egg off a plate. Mikel somehow managed to run Peyton ragged playing because around seven, the toddler began drooping. He still wanted Mikel, though, so Brogan gave him the honor of reading Peyton a story and putting him down.

Brogan waited for Mikel in his bedroom. While he didn’t imagine they’d go much further than making out, maybe a little frotting tonight, Brogan did have a new bottle of slick under the mattress just in case…

Mikel poked his head into the room, his shy smile so adorable Brogan almost couldn’t stand it. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Brogan patted the mattress beside him. “Please. I feel like we’ve been apart forever.”

“Same. I’ll never begrudge you time with your friends, but I’ve missed you terribly.”

“Me too. Can we hold each other for a while?”

“Absolutely.” Instead of simply sitting next to him for a hug, Mikel stretched out on the other side of the bed and beckoned Brogan toward him. Brogan mimicked his position and sighed with joy when Mikel slid over to half-cover Brogan’s body. They looped their arms around each other, and Brogan tucked his head under Mikel’s chin.

He loved lying like this, doing nothing more taxing than existing. Mikel’s earthy scent rolled across his skin, waking him up inside and out, and Brogan didn’t fight his erection. Mikel’s soon pressed against his thigh. Brogan parted his legs a bit more so Mikel could slide his own leg more firmly between them, giving Brogan just a bit of pressure on his crotch.

Mikel stroked his back and hair with gentle caresses. “I’ll never tire of this. Holding you. Being held by you. Everything else goes away when it’s you and me.”

Brogan kissed his neck. “Same. Love doesn’t have to be big and loud. Sometimes it steals in on quiet feet and it takes you longer to realize. I’m falling in love with you, Mikel, not only as my bondmate but as a man. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay.” Mikel raised his head to peer down at Brogan, his dark eyes shining with emotion. “I’m falling in love with you, too. I don’t deserve your love, but you give it freely anyway, and that’s astonishing to me.”

“You deserve my love more than anyone in the world, and I’ll tell you that as often as I need to. You are kind, brave, and compassionate. Your sire didn’t beat those things out of you. You’re getting better, and one day we’ll be mates in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives loving you and Peyton.”

Brogan’s heart squeezed with grief over his boy’s diagnosis. Hot tears stung his eyes. Mikel pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then rubbed their noses together. “Don’t think about that right now, love,” Mikel whispered. “You have a dozen people ready to do battle for Peyton’s future. Keep that in your heart.”

“I know. It just hits me, you know?”

“I do. I’ve cried more than once for you and Peyton. I hate seeing you in pain and not just because you’re my omega. I care for you so much, Brogan. So fucking much.”

Brogan kissed him, a soft press that quickly turned fierce and claiming. Desperate and needy. Mikel licked into his mouth, filling Brogan with his addictive taste, fueling his desire. They rubbed against each other, and Brogan opened his legs, giving Mikel a channel for his broad form to slide into. To press their erections together and thrust, and Brogan had never felt safer than while covered with his mate’s entire body.

He scraped his fingers down Mikel’s back, then shoved them beneath the fabric to touch warm skin. Warm, rough skin, and Brogan ignored the reasons for the imperfections. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was kissing Mikel, making love to his mouth, getting more skin on skin.

“Can we take our shirts off?” Brogan asked.

Mikel froze, his face going oddly pale for his dark complexion. “What?”

“We don’t have to go much further than that, but I’d like to, if you want.”

“I’ve never done that before.”

Brogan frowned. “Taken your shirt off?”

“Not during sex, no. I never wanted anyone else to see.” With a pained gasp, Mikel rolled off him and sat up.

The pads of Brogan’s fingertips still felt the ghost of that rough skin. “You have scars.”

“A lot of them.” Mikel tugged at the hem of his shirt. “I told you about the box, but the basement also had chains that hung down from the ceiling. For punishment, Sire would shackle our wrists to the chains, and then hoist us up until we could barely touch the floor. Then we’d have to stand there, perfectly still, and the first one of us to move got punished. If I saw one of my brothers was going to fail, I’d move first and take his punishment.”

“Oh Mikel.” Brogan’s chest ached for his bondmate’s suffering. And for all Mikel had chosen to distance himself from his brothers for their “safety,” the depth of Mikel’s love for them shined through in his actions.

“He got creative with the punishments. Sometimes a belt, or a yardstick. Other times he’d use matches or heat a butter knife.”

Brogan squeezed Mikel’s hands, wanting more than anything to be able to punish Mikel’s sire for treating his sons like that. For hurting the amazing man Brogan called his bondmate. For making Brogan hate someone he’d never even met simply because Brogan loved Mikel. “You can show me, or tell me anything, and it won’t change how I feel about you. I’m your future mate, Mikel. Let me share the burdens of your past.”

With an anguished cry, Mikel yanked his shirt off over his head. For a moment, all Brogan saw was a broad, muscled torso of ebony skin, firm pecs and dusky nipples. Then the imperfections surfaced in paler marks. Healed burns and other scars. Mikel didn’t move when Brogan reached out to trace a circular scar near his navel. Emotions rose to choke Brogan, and he tamped them down, too focused on making this okay for Mikel.

Brogan rose onto his knees so he could trace the ridges of Mikel’s abs, as well as the fine lines on his ribs a switch might have left behind. Mikel trembled but didn’t otherwise move while Brogan explored his front. His breathing got shallower when Brogan shifted to look at his back, and Brogan nearly burst into tears for the rough terrain years of torture had left behind. A physical map of Mikel’s life of pain, and of the depth of love he had for the brothers and omegin he’d protected.

“I know you won’t believe me when I say these scars are beautiful,” Brogan said. He brushed his lips over a wide mark on his shoulder. “But they are. You survived, Mikel. You survived so you could find me and Peyton. So we could love you for the strong, loyal, protective man you are.” He kissed another scar, and Mikel shuddered. “I hate that you were hurt. I love that you’re here, sharing this with me. Thank you.”

Mikel sobbed, then twisted around so he could pull Brogan into a firm, shaking hug. Brogan held on, wishing he was bigger, could do more to comfort the quailing man, but all he could do was be present. Support his alpha. Love him.

I do love him. So much.

He held on until Mikel quieted. Then he turned control over when Mikel tugged at Brogan’s shirt hem. Allowed the fabric to be whisked away, baring his paler chest. The faint outline of the muscles he’d never completely lost, the soft belly that was proof of Peyton’s existence just above the thin scar. Mikel leaned down to kiss that scar, and Brogan’s heart flipped with joy and desire.

Mikel kissed him again, and Brogan willingly went onto his back. Slotted his alpha back between his legs. Traced his fingers over the rough topography of Mikel’s back while Mikel took all the kisses he needed. Mikel was no longer hard, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He kissed and licked his way down Brogan’s neck to his collarbones. Then to his pecs, where Mikel kissed both nipples in turn before exploring further down.

He paused after dipping is tongue into Brogan’s navel, his eyes uncertain. “May I?”

“Anything,” Brogan replied.

With a seductive lick of his lips, Mikel reached for Brogan’s belt.

After missing Brogan so badly these last few days and feeling guilty for it, Mikel had wanted tonight to be about spoiling his bondmate. He hadn’t expected Brogan’s request for them to remove their shirts, and it had thrown him so hard he’d confessed to awful things, instead of avoiding the topic. But why avoid? Why not tell the truth when he’d promised Brogan never to lie or keep secrets? It had been a horrible truth to share, but Brogan was so strong. So loving and generous. And it had done Mikel’s heart good to hear his omega defend him. To show the unerring support he’d come to expect from the generous human being who was Brogan Dale.

Now he wanted to give Brogan a gift. To show Brogan how much Mikel cared for him, wanted him, and even though Mikel was no longer hard, he took great pleasure in opening Brogan’s slacks. Pulling fabric out of the way to display a beautiful, hard cock already leaking precome. Brogan wasn’t long, but he was deliciously thick, with plump, lightly furred balls Mikel wanted to lick.

First, though…he met Brogan’s wide-eyed gaze again. “You’re still sure?”

“Goddess, yes, please,” Brogan panted. “Please.”

Helpless to deny his omega, Mikel took Brogan’s length into his mouth. The width stretched his unpracticed jaw a bit, but it was worth it for the long, low moan from Brogan. Mikel had rarely done this for his past conquests, because giving head was the submissive partner’s job, be they omega or beta. But he needed to do this for Brogan—and for himself, too. To shatter an old belief instilled in him by his sire. To give his omega all the pleasure he deserved and more.

If Brogan’s spun-sugar tasted had been addictive from his kisses, it only intensified here, in his most intimate of places, and Mikel was drunk with it. He licked and sucked, one hand rolling Brogan’s balls while his other reached up to pinch Brogan’s nipples. All things Mikel liked, and Brogan thrashed and jerked with pleasure and need. His broken voice didn’t allow for a lot of volume, but Mikel soaked in every small sign of Brogan’s desire and joy.

“Oh, goddess, I’m close,” Brogan said. “Oh.”

Mikel doubled down, determined now, and loving every moment of having his bondmate in his mouth. Ready to shatter because of Mikel’s actions. He’d never needed a sex partner to get off so badly, but Brogan was more than a hookup. Brogan was his future, and Mikel would happily spend the rest of his life sucking off his mate if that’s what Brogan wanted.

So good. So fucking good.

Desperate to tip Brogan over and finally taste his come, Mikel dragged a spit-slick finger down over Brogan’s taint. Brogan’s legs jerked hard. When Mikel pressed that finger over Brogan’s entrance, Brogan cried out and came. Mikel pulled back enough to taste that sugary, musky spunk as it coated his mouth and throat, and it was everything he never knew he was missing. Brogan thrashed on the bed, and Mikel put an arm across his hips so he didn’t miss a single drop.

“Oh,” Brogan said. “Oh, that was amazing. Wow.”

Mikel crawled up the bed and nosed at Brogan’s neck. “It was good?”

“Holy fuck. No one’s ever blown me before.”

Really?!

“Not even during your heats?” Mikel asked. “With the beta agency?”

“No, they don’t offer that kind of service. And you’re the only person I’ve been with other than Peyton’s sire.”

Irritation rippled down Mikel’s spine at the mention of that rat bastard. “I’m the only man you’ll be with from now on. You’re mine.”

Brogan nuzzled his temple. “And you’re mine. I can’t wait to do the same thing for you, my alpha.”

“You don’t have to just because you’re omega. Only do it if you want to.”

“Believe me, I want to. When you’re ready.”

Mikel rested his head on Brogan’s shoulder. “One day. Can we just lie like this for a while?”

“Sure. Mind if I tuck my junk back in first? I’m feeling a little exposed here.”

“Of course.”

Once Brogan righted his slacks, they tangled up in each other’s arms, foreheads pressed together, heads sharing a pillow. Mikel closed his eyes and breathed in his bondmate’s scent, content and hopeful for the first time in a very long time.