Anthony’s brows drew together. “I know,” he said. “But Jules isn’t your stereotypical well-bred omega.”
Okay, now Liam was getting pretty offended. “And I’m what? I’m stereotypical?”
A grimace crossed Anthony’s face. “That’s not what I meant—all right, maybe a little. You’re very…” He looked away. “You’re very omega,” he said, looking out the window at the clouds. “Very graceful, gentle in manner and appearance, soft-spoken. Being a ‘stereotypical’ omega isn’t bad, Li. Omegas like you push the buttons of any alpha, bring out the instinct to take care of and —” He cleared his throat a little, still not looking at him. “It’s hard to explain. But I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
Feeling warm with pleasure, Liam smiled. Leaning forward, he kissed Anthony on his stubbled cheek. “All right,” he said softly. “I’m not offended.”
Anthony was very stiff, still looking out the window. But after a moment, he turned his head and looked at Liam, their faces so close Liam could see every little imperfection on Anthony’s face. He had a scar by his left cheekbone. He hadn’t noticed it until now.
“Where is this from?” Liam said, touching the barely visible scar with his fingertips. Thanks to modern medicine and technology, scars were a rarity. The wound must have been terrible if it left a scar at all.
“A knife,” Anthony said. “Shouldn’t you be piloting the aircar?”
“I put it on autopilot,” Liam said, distracted. He breathed deeply, getting a lungful of alpha scent. “The AI is pretty good. Don’t change the subject. How did you get a knife through your face?”
“War,” Anthony said, his lips twitching.
Liam gave him an unimpressed look. “I wasn’t aware the Kadarians fought the war with knives like barbarians.” He stroked the scar, his chest warming as the alpha leaned into his touch subconsciously. “That looks like it was a very deep wound.”
Anthony made a noncommittal sound. “It was a long time ago. I lived.”
“You did,” Liam said softly, his throat becoming tight. He had been relatively calm when they had gotten word that his eldest brother was likely dead, but now that he had actually come to know him, even thinking about it made his stomach knot up. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
Anthony’s blue eyes smiled at him. He covered Liam’s hand with his and squeezed it before letting their hands drop.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to turn his hand and thread his fingers with Anthony’s.
His brother’s throat bobbed up and down. “You’re so lovely,” he murmured, stroking Liam’s hand with his thumb. “How are you still unmated?”
Liam smiled at him weakly and shrugged. He didn’t really feel like talking about Westcliff and their failed courtship. Anthony probably knew anyway. He would have had to be living under a rock not to have heard about the scandal caused by the heir to the throne dumping him in favor of Liam’s own brother.
“All shiny surface and no substance, I guess,” Liam said with a crooked smile. He’d actually overheard people saying that after Westcliff had ditched him.
Anthony frowned, studying him intently.
“Hey,” he said, squeezing his fingers with such gentleness it made a lump form in Liam’s throat. “That’s not true. You know that, right? When I said you’re lovely I didn’t even mean your looks—though that’s obviously accurate, too. You’re lovely. A lovely person.”
Liam’s eyes stung. “You’re my brother,” he whispered. “Of course you’d say that. But thank you. I’m so very glad you’re back.” Leaning forward, Liam hugged him, not caring that their positions were awkward, that the arm of the seat was digging into his stomach; he didn’t care about anything but this alpha. His alpha.
Anthony hugged him back, the air becoming thick with protective alpha pheromones. Liam sighed in bliss, closing his eyes. He had never felt better in his life. But he still wanted more. He pulled back a little and bared his throat, wanting—needing—to be scent-marked.
Anthony’s heavy gaze moved from Liam’s face to his neck. He moistened his lips with his tongue. “I don’t think…”
Liam could understand why he was hesitating. Traditionally, family alphas scent-marked their siblings or kids with their hands. Scent-marking face-to-neck was considered more intimate, usually reserved for couples, not siblings. But Liam still wanted it. He wanted to stink of this alpha. Anthony was so wonderful. Liam wanted to wear his scent on his skin for hours. For days.
“Come on,” Liam said, baring his throat to the side. “Please.”
Exhaling sharply, Anthony gave in. He buried his face against Liam’s neck, nuzzling against his scent gland aggressively and pumping out his pheromones.
Liam closed his eyes, his body going boneless against his brother’s firm chest. Fuck, he’d never felt better. A whimper tore out of his throat, his hand burying in Anthony’s hair and pressing his face closer, tighter, wanting more. There was warmth and need building inside him, rushing south.