Unnatural - Alessandra Hazard Page 0,14

hand on the door handle and turning his head to smile at Royce. “Good night, honey.”

Royce’s lips twitched. “Good night.”

Haydn entered his bedroom and shut the door.

Royce was left staring at it, his body crawling with a strange kind of agitation. He stared at the spot Haydn had just been in and shook his head to himself, feeling oddly off-balance. The corridor seemed a lot quieter and darker all of a sudden. It was inexplicable.

He turned and headed to his own room.

Chapter Six

Haydn left four days later.

Royce walked him to his private jet.

“I should be back soon enough,” Haydn said. “No later than in ten days. I think. Disbanding the army isn’t exactly something we’ve ever done, so it’s hard to say for sure.” He grimaced a little. “Unless my father comes up with another reason I need to absolutely be in Pelugia for.”

Royce’s lips thinned. “You need to return before Lord Ksar comes back to check how the peace is holding. I suspect he won’t bother warning us about his visit beforehand.”

“It’s still about a month away,” Haydn said, shrugging. “I’m sure I’ll be back by then. Or you can come to Pelugia?”

Royce shook his head. “I can’t leave my work in the Senate. Your duties are a lot more flexible than mine.”

Haydn’s scent spiked with his annoyance, and Royce felt his own scent spike in response, too.

They stared each other down.

Haydn was the first to avert his gaze, to Royce’s satisfaction.

“Fine,” Haydn said, his voice sharper than it had been in a long time.

Royce didn’t like it. He liked it when Haydn was laughing or smiling. When Haydn was in a bad mood, his alpha scent became much more pronounced, which only served to aggravate Royce more.

As Haydn started to turn away, Royce grabbed his arm. “Haydn.”

Haydn looked back at him.

Royce opened his mouth and then closed it. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t going to apologize for stating the truth. Haydn’s schedule was a lot more flexible than his. He was the general of an army in a time of peace. Royce was an active senator and the leader of the Liberal party of the Kadarian Senate.

Whatever Haydn saw on his face, it was enough to soften his expression a little. “I don’t want to part on bad terms, either,” Haydn said. A tentative smile formed on his lips. “I think we’ve become pretty good friends, yeah?”

Friends. The word didn’t feel quite right. He did like Haydn. He was likable. He was warm, patient, and good-natured. He was easy to talk to, easy to like, easy to trust—Royce hadn’t expected to like him so much—but his presence always put him on edge. He could never relax around him.

“Yes,” Royce said. “Of course we’re friends.”

Haydn grinned, which made his scent become much more tolerable. “Goodbye, then,” he said, pulling Royce into a one-armed hug. “Don’t be a stranger. Call me.”

When he started pulling away, Royce didn’t let him. Keeping him still, he shoved his face against Haydn’s throat.

Haydn laughed. “Oh, come on.” But he wasn’t pushing Royce away, allowing him to thoroughly scent-mark him.

When Royce’s instincts were finally satisfied, he stepped back and said stiffly, “Goodbye. Have a safe flight.”

Haydn just nodded with a smile and strode away, smelling of Royce.

Royce watched the jet take off and disappear in the direction of Pelugia.

He sighed, feeling his body relax for what seemed like the first time in a month. As much as he liked Haydn, Royce was glad to finally have some much-needed distance from him. He hated the effect Haydn had on him: the primitive, territorial animal that he turned into around the other alpha. Away from Haydn’s aggravating scent and blue eyes, Royce’s head felt clearer. He felt calmer in general. More like himself. He no longer felt like he needed to fucking piss all over his house—and the strange alpha inside it.

Hopefully the distance would settle his instincts, and when Haydn returned, they could be normal friends without Royce needing to scent-mark him every hour.

One could only hope.

Chapter Seven

Royce found that it was much easier to be friends with Haydn when he couldn’t smell his aggravating scent. They video-called each other every evening and spoke for a few hours before Haydn needed to go to bed—his time zone was three hours ahead of Royce’s.

Haydn mostly joked and bitched about his father, but his sense of humor seemed to be darkening with every day. Although his complaints weren’t serious, Royce could read