Unnatural - Alessandra Hazard Page 0,13

It made living with him far less painful than it could have been. “You’ll always be the prettiest for me,” he deadpanned.

Haydn grinned and blew him a mock kiss.

Royce’s hands twitched. He turned swiftly and strode out of the room.

This… playful behavior never failed to agitate him. Haydn was that way with everyone. He flirted with Belinda, he flirted with Royce’s mother, he flirted with their employees—and he flirted with Royce. He didn’t mean anything by it; it was just the way he was. Haydn genuinely liked people and it was just a bit of fun for him. Royce knew it.

It still put him on edge. He… didn’t mind when Haydn was that way with him. It was ridiculous, but it was… tolerable.

But as soon as Haydn fixed his baby blues on someone else and smiled at them, Royce could barely stop himself from kicking him out of the house. Maybe it was his instincts acting up again, reacting to a strange alpha charming his people in his house. But it was immensely frustrating. Haydn was immensely frustrating. Haydn was—

Enough, he told himself, running a hand over his face. He spent too much time thinking about Haydn and being frustrated about him. He was obsessing. Enough, dammit.

***

The dinner was a rousing success. They were papped together, and Royce even managed not to get too aggravated by Haydn’s scent. The one time he got somewhat snappish, Haydn simply looked him in the eye across the table and bared his throat a little. That appeased Royce’s instincts well enough. He obviously couldn’t scent-mark him when they were in public—betas rarely scent-marked anything, so that would just look odd—but the mere sign of submission soothed Royce’s raw nerves.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Royce said as they left the restaurant. He opened the door of the helicopter for Haydn and followed him inside, ignoring the flashes of cameras.

“Do what?” Haydn said, stretching in the seat.

Royce eyed him sourly. He did look exceptionally “pretty” tonight, his smoky gray suit making his laughing blue eyes pop. Everyone at the restaurant had stared at him.

“Make yourself submit,” Royce said as the helicopter took off. He kept his voice quiet, mindful of their pilot despite the partition separating them from him. This new model of helicopter produced very little noise. It was really more of an aircar like those used on the Inner Core planets, and nearly as quiet.

Haydn cocked his head to the side, his long, muscular body stretching slightly as he yawned. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding a little thoughtful. A little surprised. “I guess I’m just used to living under another alpha’s roof and curbing my own instincts in order not to rub him the wrong way.” He scrunched up his nose in a funny way. “Though my father definitely never needed to scent-mark me.” He looked at Royce. “Why are you getting worked up again?”

Realizing that the air was full of his pheromones, Royce flushed. “I’m not sure,” he said stiffly. He could hardly tell Haydn that he… didn’t fucking like the thought of Haydn submitting to any alpha but him. It sounded bizarre even in his own head. It was none of his business what Haydn did in another alpha’s house.

Haydn sighed and bared his throat. “All right, c’mere.”

Royce didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved his face against Haydn’s scent gland and rubbed his nose into it, needing to put his scent on him.

“I used to have a shocat when I was a child,” Haydn murmured. “You’re just like him.”

“I can stop if this is making you uncomfortable,” Royce said, his eyes closed as he replaced Haydn’s aggravating scent with his own.

“No, it’s okay,” Haydn said. “Just a little weird. My head feels funny when you pump out so much pheromones.”

Having gotten permission not to move, Royce spent the rest of the flight with his face buried in Haydn’s neck. Haydn didn’t seem to mind, talking about some Pelugian issues his father had him solving from a distance. Royce listened with half an ear, knowing that Haydn didn’t mind his inattention. He just needed to vent a little.

By the time they arrived at Cleghorn, Royce was completely calm. He pulled away and helped Haydn get out of the helicopter.

Laying a hand on Haydn’s shoulder, he steered him inside the house, toward his bedroom.

“I know where my room is, Royce,” Haydn said, sounding amused.

Royce dropped his hand. “Sorry,” he said, frowning, baffled by his own behavior.

Haydn chuckled, laying a