Ignoring the question, Devlin studied him carefully. “Do you feel better?”
“What?” Julian said, his brows knitting together.
Devlin looked at him sharply. “Your brother said you didn’t feel well.”
Julian averted his gaze. “Right! Of course. I feel better now. Much better—”
“You didn’t want to go with us.”
The omega winced, but he didn’t even try to deny it. So it was true.
It shouldn’t have bothered him. It really was none of his business.
“Why?” Devlin said.
Julian shrugged. “It’s not exactly fun being a third wheel.” He still wouldn’t meet Devlin’s eyes.
“You’re not telling the truth,” Devlin said, becoming more certain of it the longer Julian avoided looking at him. Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him.
It shut with a click.
“What are you doing?” Julian said. “And I’m not lying. You think it’s fun—”
“Julian,” Devlin said quietly. “Look at me.”
After a moment, the omega finally did as he was told. There was a half-scowl on his face but some other emotion in his eyes. Something troubled and uncertain.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Devlin ordered, brushing his knuckles against Julian’s smooth cheek. Part of him, the rational part that watched his own behavior with bewilderment and disapproval, told him to cut it out. He had no right to adopt this high-handed tone. But it was as though he no longer had any control over his mouth, his instincts overriding his rational side once again. Something is wrong, they insisted. He had to fix it, Julian needed him to fix it. Julian needed him.
The thought was ridiculously heady, the rush of endorphins causing him to lose the last remnants of his rationality.
“Tell me,” he demanded again, stroking the omega’s cheek—rubbing his scent over it.
Julian shivered and leaned into the touch, his expression softening and his eyes glazing over. His elusive scent became stronger, sweetening, and Devlin inhaled it deeply—before suddenly realizing what the problem was.
A glance outside the window confirmed it: Dainiri was close to its full phase.
“You’re approaching your heat,” Devlin said, exhaling, annoyed with himself for not realizing the problem sooner.
“Yeah,” Julian said, looking anywhere but at him. “My suppressants won’t let me go into a full heat, obviously, but since I lowered the dose, it’s probably going to be pretty uncomfortable for me. So I can’t go anywhere in the next few days.”
Devlin licked his lips. “How do you usually spend your heats?”
“It isn’t exactly your business, is it?” Julian was blushing. “How do you think?” he said, his sarcastic tone at odds with his obvious embarrassment. “Like all unmated omegas do.”
With toys.
Devlin cleared his throat a little. “You do realize that it may not be enough for you this time, right?”
Julian’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“Is this your first heat since you lost your mate?”
When Julian nodded, Devlin hummed, unsurprised. He’d suspected as much. “You’re lucky Dainiri orbits around our planet so slowly,” he said, stroking Julian’s cheek and watching him shiver. “If you were a Vos omega, you’d have suffered through this twice a month.”
Julian scoffed, even though he was leaning into his touch like a touch-starved feline, his eyes glassy. “Shows what you alphas know. Vos omegas’ heats are nothing. They don’t even have to take suppressants.”
That was true. Vos omegas just experienced very heightened arousal twice a month, when their moon was full. They were never reduced to the needy wreck Dainiri omegas became every three months.
“I’m not talking about that,” Devlin said, trailing his knuckles down Julian’s cheek slowly, stroking his jawline, his chin, his neck, and watching goosebumps appear on the pale skin. He looked lower, at the fading mating mark, his lips twisting in distaste. “I’m talking about that.” He pressed his thumb against the mark. “How attached were you to your alpha?”
“Stop scent-marking me,” Julian hissed out shakily, his lips parted. He glared at him with glazed eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it anyway. The subject is closed. Please leave.”
“You need to talk about it to someone—and no, an unmated omega like Liam doesn’t count. How attached were you to your mate? It’s important, Julian.”
“Why?” the brat said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Devlin shook his head. “Have you slept through your biology class in school?” he said, exasperated. “You know why there used to be so many stories of omegas dying if their mate did? It’s because of the heats. Omegas—especially Dainiri omegas—often couldn’t survive their first heat after their mate’s death. Heat isn’t just about sex, Julian. When your moon is full, all your senses, emotions, and bonds become heightened. Your broken bond is going to hurt a lot when your heat comes. The more attached you were to your deceased mate, the harder the heat will be on you.”
“Oh.” Julian deflated, chewing on his lip. “My mate…We didn’t—we didn’t know each other all that well.”
“You didn’t know each other well and yet you bonded,” Devlin said flatly.