He didn’t have to search for long. His senses were so attuned to Anthony’s scent that he could easily follow it around the house. Liam wasn’t sure what it meant, because his sense of smell had never been all that good, but he tried not to dwell on it too much.
The scent led him to the library. The hour was late enough that the faint light coming from the windows was a poor source of illumination in the cavernous room. Anthony was sprawled on the couch in the darkest corner, his long body relaxed.
Liam squinted. Anthony’s eyes were closed, but Liam could sense he wasn’t asleep.
“What are you doing here in the dark?” Liam said. He felt painfully self-conscious. He was actually glad he couldn’t see much. He didn’t want to see Anthony and feel things no good person would feel around his brother.
“Have a hell of a headache,” Anthony said, his low voice sending a tingle down Liam’s spine. Apparently seeing him wasn’t required for his body to react like a perverted thing.
“I can give you a massage if you want.” Liam bit his tongue as soon as he’d said that, but it was too late. Fuck, why did he suddenly have to acquire the omega instinct to take care of someone in pain when he normally didn’t have a nurturing bone in his body? But try as he might, he couldn’t fight the instinct to help his alpha—the urge to please him. All the confusing, sickening desires he felt around Anthony didn’t change his overall feelings toward him: he liked him very much. His brother was wonderful.
“I should probably say no,” Anthony murmured before sighing. “But I’d really appreciate it.”
Liam was already moving. He sat down in the small space between Anthony’s head and the arm of the couch, trying to get comfortable.
Anthony lifted his head before dropping it in Liam’s lap.
Right.
Wetting his lips with his tongue, Liam buried his fingers in Anthony’s hair. It was thick but soft. Pleasant to touch. Liam ran the fingers of both hands through it, applying medium pressure to Anthony’s scalp, moving in small circles. He’d done this for his mother when she’d requested it, so he was relatively confident he knew what he was doing.
Anthony hummed in appreciation. “Feels good.”
Trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest, Liam redoubled his efforts.
Seconds ticked by.
He had never thought touching someone’s hair could feel sensual, but it was. It absolutely was. The texture made his fingers tingle, and the urge to touch Anthony’s ears, his lean cheeks, his jawline, his finely shaped lips— that urge was growing with every moment, becoming irresistible. He had to make a conscious effort to stop his hands from wandering.
Night was falling, the room nearly dark now. It made everything ten times more intimate. Ten times more improper. Liam could hear Anthony’s breathing. He could hear his own. Neither sounded entirely steady. Or was it just his imagination?
And was it his imagination or was Anthony’s scent really becoming deeper, sharper? He wasn’t sure. But he was inhaling it greedily, unable to get enough, his fingers raking over his brother’s scalp, pressing, stroking—
Anthony groaned, the sound harsh and obscene in the silence of the room.
Liam flushed, suddenly painfully aware of how hard his cock was, of how slick and achy he was between his thighs. He could smell his own arousal, and Anthony could undoubtedly smell it better than him, considering how close to his crotch his head was. Inches away.
For one wild moment, Liam imagined Anthony turning his head and licking his crotch through the fabric, sucking on the head of his cock, and then lower where he was hot and achy—licking him there, between his thighs, pressing his tongue in—
Liam bit his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning. Seriously, what was wrong with him?
“Do you have these headaches often?” he said, trying to banish those filthy thoughts from his head. His brother. This was his brother.
“Sometimes,” Anthony replied. “Not often. I think I just strained my eyes too much. The paperwork is never-ending.”
“It wouldn’t be never-ending if you returned home a year ago.”
Silence.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be,” Anthony said at last, his voice very neutral.
And suddenly, Liam was angry, all his frustration and self-loathing mixing with his pent-up resentment and turning into something horrible and ugly.
“Did you even think of us?” he said tightly. “Would you have returned if the war didn’t end?”
Anthony sighed. “Look, I get that you’re annoyed—”
“Annoyed?” Liam let out a laugh. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to live in such uncertainty for the past year? You have no idea what it’s like. You’re an alpha! The moment you were declared dead, Uncle could have kicked us out of our own home. He would have, if he didn’t hope to fetch a high omega price for us when he married us off! But of course you didn’t give a shit—”