“You’re forgetting I can lower your body temperature and render you unconscious.” Fenrir wouldn’t. It was risky and so many things could go wrong, and he would never put his alpha in that sort of danger.
But Oberon didn’t need to know that.
“You let Michelle pull your leash, but bite back when I do it?” the alpha asked, and it was hard to tell if the hard note in his voice was anger or hurt feelings.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“No?”
“I needed her for pheromone control. Nothing else.”
“Care to put your money where your mouth is? Or, I suppose in your case, it’s not money, it’s freedom.”
Fenrir paused. “Release me.”
“Never.”
“No, I mean—” He exhaled. “I want to see your face.”
Oberon considered that and then finally dropped his arms and retreated a single step. His expression was enigmatic when Fenrir turned to look, the playfulness from before leached away to conceal his emotions.
“Elaborate,” Fenrir insisted when the alpha did nothing but stare at him.
“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear.”
“When was that?” If so, he’d missed it. “Surely something as serious as my supposed freedom is worthy of repeating. Tell me. We’re stuck in this cave for the foreseeable future. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You were five minutes ago.”
“I—” Ferir didn’t want to waste time on excuses. He set his hands on his hips and said plainly, “If you want me to stay, make me stay.”
“Haven’t I done that already?” Oberon’s gaze slipped to the healed mark on Fenrir’s neck.
Their earlier conversation, before they’d been interrupted by the Wardrobe, came back to Fen then. They’d been discussing the claiming bite…
“I don’t want to be caged,” Fenrir whispered, grasping onto that thread when something flashed in Oberon’s green eyes. “Tell me what you need me to do to ensure you won’t lock me up like she did.”
“Don’t compare me to her,” he said. “It’s insulting.”
“Why?”
“Because she didn’t know how lucky she was to have you.” Oberon reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair off Fen’s forehead. “I do.”
“Do you?”
The alpha smiled, some of that stoniness chipping away. “A hybrid who can turn our enemies into popsicles? Bonus points for looking like sin. For being so articulate. I’m not big on wasting time or beating around the bush. I’ve gotten the sense that you aren’t either. I’ll always be upfront with you. I ask that you do the same.”
Fenrir cocked a brow. “Upfront? Like just now when you pretended to stumble through a blizzard just so I would hold you?”
He chuckled. “Come on, it was at least a little fun, wasn’t it?”
“I thought you might die, King. I thought—” He stopped himself, took another deep breath and then tried again. “Full transparency? Okay. I’ve accepted you as my alpha because you’re the best option. But we hardly know each other. I don’t want teasing right now. I want understanding. I want to build something that we can actually stand on.”
“Solid ground?”
“Yes.” No one else had ever given him that before. Not his grandparents, and certainly not Michelle.
But would Oberon King?