Page 18 of Hidden Fates

“About that, I just got off the phone with Omi.”

Silke is his grandmother, or omi as he calls her. A strong Beta woman who raised him and his siblings after their parents died. She comes from old money and is rooted in tradition, yet she’s adapted better to the changes in our world than a lot of people her age.

“When I told her about Caleb and Skye’s connection, she told me an interesting story. A friend of her mother’s went through something similar. Finding their Fate-matched mate but not realizing they shared the connection.”

He fidgets with the long necklace dangling against his chest, an uncomfortable twist to his lips. “According to Omi, being separated caused them to experience something similar to bond sickness.”

My stomach sinks. Bond sickness is something that occurs when a bonded pair is separated for long periods of time. Their bodies cannot handle the strain of the distance and the lack of physical contact with their mates.

My first instinct is to deny it, but logical thought takes precedence and points out all the signs that make his theory make sense. Like the hormonal imbalance that makes it difficult for Skye to manage her emotions and her struggle to gain weight.

“Fuck,” Sly curses, leaning away from my chest to scrub a hand over his face.

“Indeed,” Quentin scowls. “We need to get Caleb here. Tomorrow.”

Crossing my arms, I turn and stare out the window. Evening has arrived, and the sky outside is a dark navy blue that paints the back garden in thick shadows.

“I don’t think it will be that easy,” Sly admits. “He ran as soon as he realized.”

“He doesn’t have a choice. Making her sick is unacceptable.” Gravel coats my words, determination bleeding through my body. Whatever it takes, I’m going to get that asshole here so he can fix what he broke.

Because I have no doubt he’s experiencing side effects from the bond sickness, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Quentin mentions calling the label to get in touch with him, and leaves, taking Emmett with him.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving me and Sterling to soak in the silence. Tangerine and rosewood burst around us as his hands travel down my stomach to the top of my shorts.

“Let me help take the edge off your anger.”

He pushes my gym shorts over my thighs, and my cock springs free, already half hard just from the feel of his hands on my body. My hands fist at my sides when he drops to his knees in front of me, rough palms carving a path up the sides of my legs before one wraps around my length. His touch is firm, strangling me in his grip as he smears the pre-cum leaking from the tip.

I don’t need soft and slow, and he knows it.

The warmth of his mouth as he swallows me down pulls a groan from my lips. I grab the sides of his head, just holding him for now. More of me glides into his mouth as he bobs his head, that wicked tongue of his carving patterns into the sensitive underside of my cock.

“Fuck, Sly.”

Grinning around me, he pulls back until just the flared head sits on his tongue, and then he taps the side of my thigh, silently communicating that he wants me to take over. I don’t hold back as I push into his throat, my pace quickening as fire burns down my spine. He groans around me; the vibrations drawing my balls up. I’m close.

Warm golden-brown eyes stare up at me through a sheen of tears as I pound against the back of his throat. He gags, constricting around me, and I lose it, knees shaking as I come across his tongue.

“Shit.” I stumble backward until my legs hit the bed. The mattress is cool against my overheated skin as I collapse against it. “Get over here.”

He sinks beside me, lips meeting mine in a hungry kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and I love it. I want all my mates to wear my scent and taste me on their tongues. Every hour of every day.

Grabbing the back of his neck, I flip us over so he’s pressed against the mattress. “Do you want me to fuck you, or should I get Bellamy in here to take us together?”

“You. We both know Bellamy will take his sweet time getting down here, and I don’t want to wait.”

Giving him a smoldering look, I open the table beside the bed and grab a bottle of lube. We may be rough with each other, but I’d never take him without prep. His body isn’t made for it, not the way our Omega’s is.

The liquid is cold when I coat my hands with it, watching as he slides his cargo pants to the floor. His shirt gets tossed aside, exposing every inch of his dark umber skin. I shuffle between his thighs, tongue darting across my lips as I take him in. He’s only a few inches shorter than me, but muscle packs beneath his softness.

Slicking my cock, I give his the same treatment, enjoying his pleased hiss at the contact. His eyes fall shut, head leaning back against the bed as I slide my fingers down to tease his hole.

I’m thrown back to the first time we did this. Two fumbling teenagers who knew they would get the shit kicked out of them if anyone found out. It was messy and painful, neither of us knowing what we were doing, only that there wasn’t anywhere else we’d rather be.

Sly was my first love. The tether that kept my soul from fragmenting each time I was forced to witness my father’s abuse of the women in our community. He’s my best friend. My person.