Obsidian Heat

Chapter Eleven

Processing and releasing them took at least another few hours. More tests, including physicals for both, but Jonah insisted on being in the room for Isme's in case they asked about the scars on his arms. The nurse looked between them with an exasperated look on her face, but Isme nodded, and they gave in to his demand. They did not ask about his scars and Isme did not volunteer; it was a minimalist exam. Like they were checking the boxes. More needles. More forms.

When they got home, bone-deep exhaustion set in for Jonah, as well as an undercurrent of anger just below his skin that clenched his jaw. Isme's cat tried jumping into his arms, to an affronted look from Isme, and he picked her up by the scruff of her neck to protesting yowls and deposited her in Isme's arms. "Please deal with your... thing."

"Her name is Gargoyle," grumbled Isme as the infernal beast licked his face and then hopped away, mewling to demand food. "What's wrong with you?" Then he noticed Jonah's uncomfortable stance, the way he hid his soaked pants, the flush creeping up his neck. Isme arched an eyebrow. "You're so wet. Still. I thought we dealt with that."

Jonah snorted, his face warm now. The cat tried to slink between his legs and he kicked it away from him, hunching his shoulders. "My heat's reacting to your rut. It wasn't over. It was just... severe."

"I can help you with that," Isme said softly, looking between Jonah's face and his legs, his fascination with his slick making heat rise in Jonah's belly. "If you'll let me? Why are you mad at me?"

"I need you to knot me right now but I don't want you to do it," huffed Jonah, then stalked past Isme and found his way to the bedroom, flopping onto his bed and stuffing his face in his pillow, hating the onslaught of emotions that engulfed him at once. He blinked back smarting tears. Isme had padded quietly behind him and hung in the doorway.

"Let me just feed Gargoyle first and then you can tell me all about why you are mad at me this time."

"I don't want to talk about it. Go away."

Isme snorted. "Quit acting like a moody teenager and let's talk about this like adults."

Jonah muffled an irritated scream into the pillow. "That's exactly why I'm mad at you."

"Huh?" Isme was nothing but a ball of confusion and nerves, unable to stand still.

"You're acting exactly like a typical alpha right now."

"Um," Isme muttered. "Just give me a minute before Gargoyle claws out my eye, okay? We're going to talk about this."

He left momentarily and Jonah tried breathing steadily to get his heart rate under control. Sweat started up his neck. Clattering noises came from the kitchen, along with a cat's hissing and Isme's soothing noises. Then all was silent and the mattress shifted as Isme sat on the corner.

"Look, you don't have the drugs and you're going to ruin your comforter if you keep slicking like that," he said in a huff. "So you might as well tell me why I'm acting like a typical alpha. Do you want some tea?"

"I do not want some tea," Jonah growled. "I just don't want to feel like this right now. I want you even when I'm mad at you."

"Jonah." Isme scooted closer and placed one warm hand on Jonah's shoulders. He flinched and Isme released his touch.

Jonah sighed, his voice still muffled in the pillow. "When you pulled the knife on that agent you were too reckless. I can't stop worrying about you. How can I keep you safe when you keep putting yourself at risk?" he said, rolling over finally so Isme could see his red eyes and the snot running from his nose. He brushed his nose with his sleeve. "And I hate that it turns me on even when it makes me mad. I just want to be alone right now."