Page 4 of That Defining Moment

“It’s fine, honestly, I should’ve texted, this is completely my fault for just turning up like a lunatic —”

“Lysander.” Hamish’s grip was firm, his thumb pressed into the crook of Lysander’s elbow. “That’s Cassian. He’s the subject of my last documentary.”

Lysander stopped trying to pull away.

“He was raised in the Family of Light,” Hamish said, keeping his voice low enough that the conversation stayed between them. “The group I’ve been filming for the past eighteen months. Three weeks ago he turned up on my doorstep because I’d mentioned Brunswick in one of our interviews, and the name of the café across the road. Apparently that was enough information for him to track me down. He left the ministry, Sander. He actually left.”

The pride in Hamish’s voice when he said it made Lysander finally turn back to face him.

“He’s been crashing in my spare room,” Hamish continued. “I haven’t told you because of source confidentiality. Cass… He doesn’t really know how anything works yet. Last week I had to explain what a direct debit was, and on Thursday he used an entire bottle of washing-up liquid in the dishwasher because he’d never seen one before. He’s —” Hamish rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s adjusting. I’m helping him adjust.”

“And the nudity?”

Hamish exhaled through his nose. “It’s part of his morning practice. They used to exercise in the nude every morning at the compound. Said that it kept them receptive to the offerings of the Universe.”

Lysander looked past Hamish’s shoulder, back down the corridor to where the beautiful naked omega was still standing in the kitchen doorway, watching them with his enormous eyes over the rim of his mug. He hadn’t tried to cover himself or retreat. He just stood there, perfectly still.

Creepy little weirdo, Lysander thought, with a lack of charity that he felt was entirely justified given the circumstances.

“He could murder you in your sleep, Hamish,” he said in a low voice.

Hamish tugged Lysander further into the house. “The Family of Light are pacifists, Sander. We’ll be fine.” He turned towards the kitchen doorway. “Cassian, come and meet my friend, Lysander.”

Cassian didn’t move, so Hamish crossed the hallway, shrugged off the flannel shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt, and draped it around Cassian’s shoulders.

Lysander’s jaw tightened. The flannel was Hamish’s, soft and worn, the sleeves too long for Cassian’s slender arms. Watching another omega being wrapped in his alpha’s clothing sent a hot, irrational spike of jealousy through his chest that he knew was beneath him, but still couldn’t get past.

Cassian pulled the flannel closed with one hand, still holding his mug of tea with the other.

“I’ve never met another male omega,” Cassian said. His voice was soft and precise, each word delivered with earnest gravity. “I was the only one in the history of the Family of Light. There was a feast when I was eight, and I was immediately given the name Calyx. Cassian Calyx.”

“What’s that, then?” Lysander asked, intrigued despite himself.

“A holy receptive.” Cassian’s chin lifted. “An open cup, fashioned to receive the blessings of the Universe within me. The elders said my womb was a chalice for the Light, and that all who poured into me would be sanctified by the vessel, and that my body was a gateway through which many could enter and find peace.”

“You must have been a lot of fun at your cult’s sex parties,” Lysander said.

Cassian blinked, his mouth dropping open.

Hamish bent low, placing his mouth close to Lysander’s ear. “Don’t.”

Then he straightened up and turned back to Cassian. “He’ll be staying with us, Cass.”

Cassian turned those pale eyes on Hamish. “I can share a bed with Lysander,” he offered, as if this were a perfectly sensible and wildly generous suggestion. “I don’t take up much room.”

“Not necessary, Cass.” Hamish’s hand rested on the small of Lysander’s back. “He’ll be staying in my room with me.”

A frown creased between Cassian’s brows, and his lower lip pushed forward in a pout. “But you’ve never let me stay in your room with you, alpha.”

Hamish shot Lysander a look of nervous appeal. “Lysander is my special friend, Cass.”

Cassian’s eyes went very wide. They swept over Lysander, conducting a visual audit. “But alpha,” he said, and his voice had gone small and wobbly, “what can I do to be your special friend too?”

“Fuck him,” Lysander said.

Hamish’s hand pressed harder against his back, a clear be gentle, Lysander transmitted through his palm. “Well,” Hamish said. “There’s much more to our relationship than that, I’d hope.”

Cassian stared at them both. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by outrage. “But he’s not your Evermate, alpha!”