Page 11 of That Defining Moment

The results loaded in a cascade of headlines and photographs that made Cassian sit up straighter against his pillows. There were news articles from papers he didn’t recognise, with names like The Sun and Daily Mail, and all of them seemed to be about a single event that involved Lysander and an alpha who had been obsessed with him.

CORPORATE BY DAY, KINKY BY NIGHT: THE SECRET DOUBLE LIFE OF THE HUXLEY TWINS.

STALKER ATTACKED WRONG TWIN IN ONLYFANS OMEGA HORROR.

Cassian sounded out the words carefully, getting the gist of them even though it took a while. He tapped the image at the top of one article, and it expanded to fill the screen. Two young men stood side by side, Lysander and Stephen, the caption said, and they were identical; the same face replicated with such precision that it was as if the Universe had seen Lysander and said, yes, I want two of that.

Cassian had to admit, grudgingly and only to himself, that Lysander was beautiful. The bad attitude and the loose morals were all obviously signs of spiritual contamination, but the packaging itself was alluring and all too easy to fall for. It was a shame about everything else.

He scrolled further, and his finger stopped on a link near the bottom of the page.

TheoTheO — Exclusive Content.

Cassian tapped it.

The page loaded slowly on the cottage’s patchy Wi-Fi, and at first it was just a grid of thumbnail images, small and blurry, most of them showing Lysander in various states of undress. Then Cassian tapped one and a video filled his screen.

He dropped the tablet.

It landed face-up on the duvet, still playing, and Cassian scrambled backwards against the headboard with his knees drawn up. On the screen, Lysander was on his back with an alpha between his legs. Cassian could see everything: the alpha’s cock sliding into Lysander with each thrust, the wet shine of slick on both their bodies, and the obscene stretch of Lysander’s hole around the girth of it.

Disgusted as he was, Cassian couldn’t stop looking at Lysander’s face.

Lysander’s eyes had rolled back, his lips parted, his expression one of pure bliss. His back was arched off the bed and his hands explored his alpha’s body, raking down his back and even reaching down between his legs to rub at the alpha’s balls as he pounded into him. Lysander’s hips were moving, rolling up to meet every thrust as though he couldn’t get enough, his body was reaching for more of the alpha. He was gasping, writhing, making sounds that were wet and ragged and utterly unself-conscious, while he kept his legs wrapped around the alpha’s waist so tightly that the muscles in his thighs were shaking.

Cassian had never done any of that. He had never moved like that. With Charles, Cassian had lain on his back with his wrists tied to the bedframe and his body still as a held breath, because Charles preferred him quiet and compliant, a vessel positioned and waiting. Charles used to bind his hands with a silk cord that left marks around his wrists, and Cassian had stared at the ceiling while it happened, receiving his Evermate’s blessing in sombre silence.

On the screen, Lysander threw his head back and cried out. His body convulsed, and his fingers dug into the alpha’s back hard enough to leave red lines on the alpha’s skin.

Cassian had never left marks on Charles.

Charles had left marks on Cassian, on the insides of his thighs where the skin was thinnest and the bruises took longest to fade. But those were blessings, not damage. That was what a Calyx was for. His Evermate knew best, and the hurt was the offering, and the offering was love.

Cassian reached out and turned the tablet face-down on the duvet.

He lay in the dark with the headphones on and his hands resting on the flat of his stomach, feeling his own heartbeat pulse against his ears. Through the padding, the faintest murmur of Lysander’s voice still carried from the next room, and Cassian closed his eyes against it.

✦ ✧ ✦

Breakfast was different the next morning.

Hamish had acquired new muesli. The box sat on the counter like a peace offering, its label promising dried apple pieces and pepitas. He held the box up to the kitchen window and squinted at the picture of the muesli to try and pick out any signs of raisins, because they were sneaky, disguised little horrors that hid among decent ingredients and ruined everything they touched.

No raisins. Hamish had found one without them.

Cassian clutched the box to his bare chest and looked at Hamish, who was leaning against the counter with his coffee. The tops of his ears were already going pink, as though he could sense what was coming.

“The Universe placed you in my path for a reason,” Cassian told him.

The pink spread from Hamish’s ears to his cheeks. “It’s just muesli, Cass.”

“Nothing is just anything. You are a channel for the Light’s abundance, alpha.” Cassian pressed the box against his heart and closed his eyes. “I receive this offering with gratitude and an open vessel.”

“Please stop calling yourself a vessel, Cass.”

“You are the brightest alpha I have ever been gifted.” Cassian opened his eyes and beamed at Hamish. “The Light pours through you, and you blind me with its profundity.”

Hamish’s face had gone entirely red. He lifted his mug to his mouth and kept it there, as if he were hiding behind it.