“How do you know he’s a Kadarian?” Eric said, partly deflecting and partly genuinely curious. Nothing in Hugh’s attire gave away that he was a foreigner: the current fashion in both countries was similar, favoring classic dark suits and simple lines. There might be very slight differences in the cut of those suits, but they weren’t noticeable to the casual eye.
But then again, Anthony wasn’t a casual eye. He had been an intelligence agent for a decade, after all. He was bound to notice finer details that escaped your average person.
“From the way you were looking at him,” Anthony replied. “You looked at him like you recognized him but didn’t expect to see here, and since I don’t recognize him, it’s safe to conclude that the man is someone you’ve met in Kadar.”
Well, that was a much simpler—and less exciting—explanation than Eric had imagined.
“I was introduced to him when Royce and Haydn made me attend a charity gala,” Eric said with a shrug, hoping that would be the end of the questioning. It was incredibly difficult to keep his attention on Anthony. Everything in him itched to turn back and see where Hugh was now. It didn’t seem to matter that he and Hugh were at odds after their parting four days ago—Eric couldn’t focus on anything else while Hugh was in the room.
“You must have made an impression, then,” Anthony said. “Because he’s heading our way.”
Eric almost stopped breathing. He blinked numbly at his brother before whipping his head around.
He nearly jumped when Hugh all but materialized in front of him.
“Mr. Randall!” Eric blurted out, giving Hugh a pleading look. Play along, please. My family can’t know about my health issues.
Hugh frowned. “Eric,” he said simply, his eyes sweeping over Eric from head to toe in an assessing manner, as if looking for something.
“This is my brother, Anthony Blake,” Eric said, clearing his throat a little. He had to shove his hands into his pockets in order to stop himself from reaching for Hugh’s hand needily. Everything in him itched to step closer to Hugh and take comfort in his strength in a way he didn’t feel about Anthony—his actual family alpha.
“It’s a pleasure,” Hugh said curtly, barely glancing at Anthony before returning his gaze to Eric. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
Acutely aware of people’s curious gazes on them, Eric nodded and looked at his brother. “Go mingle. Hugh will keep me company.”
“I thought it was Mr. Randall,” Anthony said, his narrowed eyes shifting from him to Hugh and back.
Eric hoped he wasn’t blushing. “That’s right,” he said awkwardly. “Hugh Randall. Let’s go.” He strode away before his brother could ask more uncomfortable questions.
“Slow down,” Hugh said. “You look like you’re running from me.”
He was right. It probably looked weird.
Eric forced himself to slow down, allowing Hugh to catch up.
His face inscrutable, Hugh offered him his arm.
A little surprised by the gesture—it was very uncharacteristic for Kadarians—Eric tucked his hand around Hugh’s bicep and inhaled deeply, hating himself for how much more at ease he now felt. The disdainful looks didn’t bother him any longer; they seemed irrelevant and far removed, Hugh’s presence beside him the only thing he could focus on.
Eric hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was leaning into Hugh just a little bit closer than was appropriate, greedy for the faintest whiffs of Hugh’s scent. How could a man smell like safety and the most delicious, forbidden thing at the same time? Eric wanted to rub his cheek against Hugh’s stubble until it was raw and achy. He wanted to lick along Hugh’s strong jawline, bite it and kiss it, devour him whole until he was all he could taste. He wanted—
He wanted many things he had no business wanting. This man was bonded to another omega.
The thought caused the familiar dull ache somewhere in his stomach, and Eric steeled his heart and his voice. “What are you doing here?”
Hugh led him toward the less crowded part of the ballroom by the orchestra. “I was in the area,” he said as they stopped by the farthest window. There weren’t many people around, and the music was loud, so they could talk without being afraid of being overheard.
Eric shot him a skeptical look. “Really?”
Hugh wouldn’t quite meet Eric’s eyes. “Yes, really.”
“How did you even get inside? The reception is invitation only.”
The look on Hugh’s face became rueful. He didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows a little.
Right. Sometimes Eric forgot how obscenely rich and powerful Hugh’s family was. “What are you really doing here, Hugh?”
“I was worried that you might have a relapse.”
“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Not jumping strange alphas yet.” To be fair, Eric had had the same concerns too, but he didn’t want to be fair. He wanted to press, to push, until Hugh dropped that self-possessed mask and revealed how he really felt about him—if he felt anything at all.