Obsidian Heat

Chapter Five

Squirming in his seat, the air too hot for his liking, Jonah turned on the music while he waited for Isme. He had it on punk, first, since it suited his dark mood. He took out his phone and texted.

You don't need to pack up your whole house.

It's been five minutes, came the return text almost immediately, and Jonah smiled, hearing the snark even in writing.

He waited so long he almost fell asleep. His eyes roved over to his dashboard clock and he shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers. His alarm buzzed in his phone and he almost jumped. Time for the weekly injection. It couldn't have come at a worse time. Heat crawled up his neck as he dug in his bag for the syringe kit, reached for the carefully cooled shot, got the needle ready and found a vein. Then he looked up as alpha smell clogged his nostrils. Isme was opening the door, staring at him with an open mouth, dragging along a cat carrier and a large suitcase on wheels behind him.

"What are you doing?" he managed to sputter, and Jonah's stomach twisted.

"Sorry," he said as he squeezed his eyes shut and the drug found its way into his veins. "I was late on my shot."

"Your what?"

"Heat suppressant." Jonah squeezed his eyes shut and took a sharp intake of breath as it hit his system, the minutes looming between them. The alpha scent was overpowering then. Ginger, maybe, mixed in with a fine aged wine. It was enough to send Jonah's pulse racing.

Isme worked his jaw before he found the courage to say something. "Does it work? Because we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

"Mostly. You can put your suitcase in the back." Jonah closed his eyes again, a headache springing to his temples.

"Mostly?" Isme yelped, throwing his suitcase in the truck bed and positioning himself in the passenger side with the cat carrier in his lap. Jonah reached out to change the station to classical but his hand was shaking. Isme held his wrist. "What does it feel like, when you're in heat?"

"You don't want to know." Jonah let out a ragged breath. "You'll know it when you see it. Let go of my hand."

Imse dropped his wrist like he'd been burned and gripped the cat carrier. "Sorry."

Jonah opened one eye and got his breathing under control. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I can't leave Gargoyle alone for too long. She's already mad at me," whined the alpha, looking every inch the boy right then, despite his 28 years and his fancy job.

Jonah banished all thoughts of heats gone wrong and drugs that had side effects and focused on that one fact. He was young. He was too young for him. And not just because of his age, his brain chided his rebellious libido. With a deep breath, he warily eyed the cat carrier. "You named your cat Gargoyle?"

"You'll see why when you meet her." A hiss sounded from behind the bars and Jonah arched an eyebrow. Color crept up Isme's cheeks. "You're the one who wants to babysit me; you brought all this on yourself."

"Isme." Jonah released a thousand possible retorts with that one exhalation of his name, and the man in question fell silent, for once.

"This is nice," he said, as Jonah started up his engine and pulled away from his cul-de-sac. He was referring to the music, Jonah realized.

"You hate it." Jonah did not mean it as a question, and it lay between them.

Isme shrugged. "I kind of do. Sorry."