Was he worried about his prince?
Or was he worried about his crush?
Could this thing between them, this tense, hyper fixation, be considered a crush? It seemed too tame a word to describe the tumultuous feelings between them.
Shiloh knew Sarang wasn’t entirely unaffected by him. He’d certainly enjoyed their sexual chemistry this weekend, and he’d proven he’d thought of fucking Shiloh before with his comments in the bedroom. But as a Dominant omega, that was to be expected. Shiloh couldn’t take that as proof, since any alpha would react that very same way if subjected to Shiloh’s dominant pheromones as often as this one was.
Den Night could have been a mere fantasy about fucking his boss, but even if Sarang did have romantic notions toward him, they’d be feelings for the mask, not the real person underneath.
Which was fine.
Hadn’t that been the very reason for the mask in the first place?
Shiloh had meant to use it to trap the alpha at his side permanently. He could keep this act up for the rest of his life even, if it meant he’d get to keep Sarang. Admittedly, it was a somewhat childish plan, but he’d come up with it in the midst of a high heat and while injured, the smell of salt and alpha musk drugging his senses.
He’d claimed this man the day they’d met. In less than an hour of knowing him.
Sarang simply wasn’t aware.
Yet.
But he would be, and soon, so long as Bishop had taken care of things as well as he stated.
Fortunately, Sarang mistook Shiloh’s frown, cursing and bending to swoop him up into his arms. “If you’re unwell, call me.”
“You were busy.” Shiloh wrapped his arms around Sarang’s neck, sure to keep his touch gentle, and then feigned his head being too heavy to hold up. He set it on the alpha’s shoulder, hiding his smirk as the alpha carried him to the attached changing room. “I’m fine, Rang. Just a little woozy.”
“How long were you in there?”
“I lost track of time.”
“If Bishop can’t do his job properly, I’ll find you someone who can.”
“His job isn’t to time my baths.”
“No, but he is meant to be looking out for you.”
“He was doing just that, and yet you seemed pretty cross with him.”
Sarang set him down gently on one of the benches, then reached for a towel.
“Your birthday is coming up,” Shiloh changed the subject, sensing he’d hit a wall. “You’ll make time for me, won’t you?”
The underboss paused, in the process of drying his hair.
“You made plans?” Shiloh’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “With who?”
“Your brother intends to throw a celebration in my honor. It should help boost morale.”
“My brother?” Sure.
“I assume it was really Sky’s idea.”
Of course it was. Kian’s mate was the tenderhearted sort. Things like birthdays probably mattered to him. That was fine though. If it was Sky’s doing, Shiloh could still make this work.
“I wonder if that’s why Sloane is looking for me.” His sister would be on the main level around this time. Hopefully in a corner booth taking a break, so he wouldn’t have to deal with small talk with customers. The hot tub had finally relaxed him—and eased any lingering ache in his rear—the last thing he needed was for the tension to return.
“I’ll inform the princess you’ve gone to bed early and will check in with her in the morning,” Sarang stated, not even bothering to ask Shiloh’s opinion on the matter.
