Haydn breathed in Royce’s familiar scent and felt himself calm down, little by little. He almost felt guilty for the feeling of safety and well-being that spread through him—how could he feel like this when Devlin was who-knew-where, possibly hurting or being hurt by others?—but he couldn’t fight the feeling. He was in the arms of his mate and husband, and everything felt absolutely perfect, no matter what his brain said.
Haydn sighed and kissed Royce’s throat, allowing himself to just enjoy this for a moment. It was going to be a long day—a long few weeks if he was elected as the Lord Chancellor and Royce replaced Taube as the prime minister.
“I promise you we’ll find him,” Royce said, dropping a kiss on top of his head. “I’ll lead the search personally.”
Haydn snorted in amusement, though he was touched, especially considering how busy Royce was and the fact that he didn’t even like Devlin much. “You don’t need to, silly. I’ll need resources and people, but I’ll lead the search myself. You have enough stuff to deal with today.”
Royce sighed. “I know. I know you’re more than capable of leading the search. Just…” He tipped Haydn’s face up so they looked each other in the eyes. Royce’s expression was serious. “Be careful, all right? I know you love your cousin, but he’s extremely dangerous right now. I hate the thought of you being hurt.”
Haydn smiled crookedly. “I will be careful, I promise. I have no intention of getting hurt and missing out on all the sex I was promised.”
Not fooled by his attempt at levity, Royce kissed him on the forehead and hugged him tightly again. “Everything will be all right,” he stated. “I promise, love.”
Closing his eyes, Haydn allowed himself to melt into his embrace and believe him.
Epilogue
Months later
Royce tore his gaze from his computer and leaned back in his seat with a sigh. The new tax bill proposed to the Senate had failed to hold his attention for long.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and drummed his fingers over the armrest, his skin crawling with agitation.
Haydn should have been back by now.
There was no cause for concern. Haydn could take care of himself. He’d been a war general for over a decade; he could handle tracking down one feral alpha. Besides, Haydn wasn’t alone. He had people with him. There was no reason to worry.
Royce smiled to himself. Who was he trying to kid? No matter what he told himself, it had never managed to quell his anxiety until he had Haydn back in his arms. Every time Haydn left in search of his cousin, following new leads, Royce couldn’t focus on his work until his mate was back. Every single time.
It wasn’t normal, but Royce had made peace with it. Their relationship wasn’t exactly normal, period. Although they were mated in every sense of the word, this urge to reaffirm their mating was too strong for a normal mated couple. By now, Royce was used to feeling agitated if he didn’t see Haydn even for a day. Granted, it was annoying that his staff treated him like a ticking bomb every time Haydn was away on his Lord Chancellor duties or left in search of Devlin. It would have been embarrassing if he and Haydn weren’t so used to having eyes on their relationship since its conception.
Considering that they were always in the spotlight as the Kadarian prime minister and the Lord Chancellor of the planet, it was difficult to keep their relationship private, so they didn’t even try. Everyone on the planet knew that theirs was a happy marriage. Everyone knew Royce loved his husband; he wasn’t ashamed of showing it. Their PR managers didn’t seem unhappy with them, so Royce shamelessly used it to get away with kissing his husband whenever and wherever he felt like it. It was one of the rare cases of good media coverage coinciding with something he actually wanted to do.
Though the press wouldn’t think favorably of him if they knew just how much he was distracted from his work by Haydn’s absence.
Royce looked at the clock again and scowled. It was nearly noon. Haydn had promised that he would be back this morning.
He looked at his phone and forced himself not to touch it. He didn’t want to be too controlling. Haydn had been a single, independent alpha for decades. He wouldn’t be amused if Royce started stifling his freedom and demanding to know where he was at all times.
His intercom chimed. “Your husband wants to see you, Your Excellency,” said his secretary’s voice.
“Let him in,” Royce said, his heartbeat picking up and his every sense sharpening.
Part of him was incredulous. They’d been mated for months; such eagerness and obsession were ridiculous and inappropriate. He was at work.