Chapter Fourteen

Present day — continued

"Sorry," Lucien said, quickly stepping back from Aksel as they nearly collided in the doorway.

"Not your fault," Aksel said coldly, barely glancing at him.

His stomach twisting, Lucien looked past Aksel's shoulder at Vagrippa.

She watched them with sharp, careful eyes.

"Did I interrupt something?" Lucien said in his lightest voice, sensing the tension in the room. These days he usually avoided being in the same room as Aksel, but it was probably safe with Vagrippa being there too. A small, pathetic part of him couldn't help but crave the smallest crumbs of Aksel's attention, no matter how unwise it was. No matter how hard Aksel's eyes were.

"Not at all," Vagrippa said. "I was just telling Aksel about the list of accomplished, suitable omegas I compiled for him."

It took everything in him to keep the neutral expression on his face.

"I see," Lucien said. "I take it Aksel wasn't very pleased?"

Aksel's back tensed. He turned around and bored his cold blue eyes into Lucien. "No," he replied for Vagrippa. "I don't need my mother's help to choose a mate for myself."

Lucien swallowed. That same pathetic part of him that craved Aksel's attention irrationally wanted to believe that Aksel meant him. But his brain knew better than his foolish heart. Aksel hadn't looked at him kindly in over a year. He wasn't talking about Lucien; he was simply saying that he would choose a mate himself—a mate who wasn't Lucien.

It was fine.

It was.

It was what he'd wanted.It was.

"I'm sure you don't," Lucien heard himself say. He smiled, hoping that he looked like he didn't care.

Aksel's expression was inscrutable as he stared him down. "On second thought, Mother," he said, "give me that list. I'll take a look."

Lucien's stomach sank. He managed to keep his smile on his face only with an incredible force of will. It probably looked a little deranged.

Unable to look at Aksel's indifferent expression anymore, he shifted his gaze to Vagrippa.

She was smiling widely, looking inordinately pleased. "Let me grab it from my room, dear," she said, getting to her feet.

Realizing that he was in danger of being alone with Aksel, Lucien muttered some excuse and left the dining room.

He'd lost his appetite anyway.

***

Part of Lucien still thought that Aksel hadn't been serious about looking at Vagrippa's list—about taking a mate.

But he was quickly disabused of that notion when two days later Vagrippa announced that they were sending out invitations to the most eligible omegas of Kadarian society to attend a two-week house party at the Cleghorns' country estate. Apparently, Aksel had given his approval. Apparently, he was actually willing to go through the society dance of picking a suitable omega.

It was... It killed something in Lucien's heart. It hurt. He knew it was foolish. He knew it was downright stupid. He knew he had no right to be jealous or hurt. He'd given up Aksel himself. It was his own decision. He'd hurt Aksel immensely. He'd killed the affection Aksel had felt for him with his own hands.

He had no fucking right to feel hurt.

Lucien knew that.

But it changed nothing. He had thought he was ready to see Aksel move on with his life.

He had thought wrong.

***

Sometimes Lucien dreamed of that night.

It was his worst nightmare, his worst memory of the worst day of his life.

He wasn't sure what it said about him that his worst memory wasn't the day he had been raped or even the day his father had kicked him out of his home.

No, his worst memory was the night the devotion in Aksel's eyes had died.

The dream started just as it had happened in real life.

He was lying on top of Aksel, clinging to his firm body desperately, still shaking after his orgasm. His eyes were wet. For once, it wasn't from the intensity of the pleasure he'd just experienced. The feeling of impending loss was so crushing he already felt it. The emptiness. The heartache. The grief. He wondered if that was how people felt before their death.

He had to do it.

He had to do it for Aksel.

For Aksel.

So Lucien closed his eyes, buried his face in Aksel's throat and breathed in, for one last time. I love you , he thought, his throat thick with heartache and love. I love you so much, in every way it's possible to love a person.

But his feelings didn't matter. His love didn't matter.

He had to let go.

Be happy, please .

"I can't do this anymore," Lucien whispered.

Aksel's body tensed up under him. "What are you talking about?"

Lucien rolled off of him and sat up, tugging his knees to his chest. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. This sickens me." Every word felt like sandpaper on his tongue. "You're the youngest son of my husband. I look at you and see the little boy I watched grow up. It makes me feel so dirty. This is revolting, Aksel."

He could smell Aksel's confusion mixed with growing anger. "You were far from revolted just now," he said tersely. "You don't smell revolted."

Damn his superior senses.

Lucien thought of the most disgusting things he could think of: other alphas touching him, fucking him, treating him like a thing. It made him feel nauseated. Hopefully he smelled like it too.

"It's just sex," Lucien said tonelessly. "It feels good physically." Every lie had to be mixed with the truth to sound convincing. "Thank you for introducing me to pleasure. I had no idea sex could feel good. But it's just physical, Aksel. I always feel wrong and dirty doing this with you, my stepson. It sickens me."

Aksel growled, "Look at me. Look me in the eye when you say that."

Lucien took a deep breath and turned around.

"Tell me you're not serious," Aksel said hoarsely, his eyes intent on him. "Please, Luce."

A part of him longed to take his words back, say he was sorry, say that he hadn't meant it.

But he couldn't do it.

This was for Aksel.

He had to let go.

"I do mean it, darling," he said softly. "I can't keep doing this anymore, not with you. It's destroying me. I feel soiled, like a disgusting pervert."

Aksel looked at him searchingly, his scent growing thicker with his distress and anger with every moment as he realized that Lucien was serious. "I don't believe you," he said. "Why would you spend my fucking rut with me if this disgusted you?"

This was the question Lucien had hoped he wouldn't ask. Because it was the hardest thing to explain away. The hardest thing to lie about.

"I spent your rut with you because I was curious."

Aksel's scent soured. "Curious," he repeated flatly.

God, it turned Lucien's stomach. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt Aksel like this. "Yes. It was… very satisfying. It was even better than people said."

Aksel recoiled.

Nausea rose to Lucien's throat. He hated it, hated reducing their connection to a fetish, hated hurting Aksel like this.

"I loved it," Lucien whispered. "And that sickened me even more afterward. It proved that there's something wrong with me. I'm sick. Rotten to the core. How could I love having sex with a—with a beast?" He nearly choked on the vile word but forced it out.

Aksel's expression shattered. But he still didn't seem to be buying it completely. "Lucien," he said roughly, reaching for him.

Lucien moved away hastily, nearly falling off the bed. He couldn't allow Aksel to touch him. He was too weak. He didn't trust himself not to crumble and cling to him if Aksel touched him.

"Don't," he said sharply, getting to his feet. "Stop being so pushy! All you do is push me! You're no better than the assholes who raped me and ruined my life!"

Aksel flinched as if physically struck.

Feeling sick to his stomach from the bullshit coming out of his mouth, Lucien forced himself to continue. "They also didn't take no for an answer and used my biology against me. Just because I physically liked being fucked during my first heat doesn't mean I didn't feel shitty and gross afterward. It's the same with you. Exactly the same."

Aksel looked ill.

He stared at Lucien as if seeing him for the first time. The warmth that had always been in his gaze when he looked at Lucien was gone. There was nothing in his eyes now. Absolutely nothing.

"Right," he said at last, his voice devoid of any emotion. "I'm sorry I made you feel gross. I won't force myself on you anymore." He reached for his clothes and started dressing quickly, as if he couldn't bear being in the same room as Lucien a moment longer than he had to.

When the door slammed shut after him, Lucien buried his face in the pillow that still smelled of Aksel and breathed raggedly, his shoulders shaking as his silent tears soaked it. He couldn't even let out the sob that lodged in his throat. He couldn't risk making any noise for fear of Aksel hearing him. He couldn't even grieve their relationship properly. They hadn't had a relationship. They could never have a relationship.

It had been the right thing to do.

It had been.

Doing the right thing had never hurt more.

The dream—the memory—didn't always end the way it had in real life. Sometimes Lucien's subconscious tried to fix the memory, make the ending happier, make Aksel realize that Lucien had lied and come back to him, but even in his dream, Lucien knew it wasn't real.

Even in his dream, he couldn't believe it.