Chapter 334: Chapter 334: Let’s go home.
Lucas’s mouth curved, but there was no real humor in it. "That is mine to decide."
The HVAC hummed softly; the monitors washed a cold blue across Trevor’s face. Outside, copper-edged leaves flicked against the glass like coins.
Trevor didn’t retreat. If anything, his body leaned in, the line of his shoulders taut under the suit. "I know," he said, his voice lower now, threaded with something rougher. "I told myself it was for you, to keep the rut out of the equation and let you focus on the palace event." He let out a short, quiet breath. "But don’t think for a second it meant I didn’t want you. Suppressants won’t stop me from wanting to sleep with you."
Lucas’s lashes lowered, hiding the green of his eyes for a moment. When he looked back up, there was a glint of heat under the tiredness. "You’ve been walking around like a monk," he said softly. "Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to remember what you smell like without an office between us."
Trevor gave a low, uneven laugh; it sounded more like a growl at the back of his throat than amusement. "It’s been hell," he admitted. "Every night you’d come home in that damned suit, hair falling in your eyes, and I’d have to sit there on the edge of the bed and not touch you." His fingers flexed once against the desk, knuckles pale. "The suppressants kept me from losing control. They didn’t kill the urge."
Lucas stepped around the corner of the desk until they were almost toe-to-toe. "And now?" he asked quietly.
"Now you’re standing here looking at me like that," Trevor said, the roughness of his voice deepening, "and I’m not sure I care about control anymore." He reached up, finally, and let his thumb skim along the edge of Lucas’s jaw. "Three days until your heat," he murmured. "I’ve been counting, too."
Lucas caught his wrist, holding it there against his face. "Then let’s get back to Fitzgeralt," he said, voice low but steady. "I want to have my heat there with you."
For a heartbeat Trevor just looked at him, thumb still resting along his jaw, the lines of his face softening as the meaning sank in. The violet in his eyes went darker, the office screens casting cold blue across them.
"You’re serious," he said quietly.
Lucas gave the smallest nod. "Serathine and Cressida flew to Saha to teach Chris how to shut up. Andrew and Mia are safe. We’ve finished everything the capital needed from us. There’s nothing left but noise and headlines here." His hand slid down, fingers brushing Trevor’s palm. "I want to go home."
Trevor’s jaw worked once, as if he were swallowing the last of his discipline. He closed the small distance between them, palm sliding from Lucas’s jaw to the back of his neck, thumb tracing a slow circle at the base of his skull.
"You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that," he murmured. The rough edge of his voice betrayed how hard the last weeks had been.
Lucas let out a soft sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh, green eyes glinting. "Then do it," he said. "Book the flight, pack the car. You’re the Grand Duke, get us out of here."
Trevor’s mouth curved, the first honest smile he’d shown all day. "Done. I’ll have the jet ready to leave tomorrow morning." He already reached for his phone with his free hand, thumb flicking to Windstone’s number.
On the second ring Windstone picked up, his voice crisp. Trevor didn’t bother with pleasantries. "Clear the schedules, pack only what’s essential. We’re leaving for Fitzgeralt at dawn. Full security rotation but low profile. Use the private terminal."
There was a beat of silence and then a sigh down the line, the sound of a man who had been waiting for this order for weeks. "At last," Windstone said simply. "I’ll handle it."
"Good." Trevor ended the call and set the phone aside. He bent a little closer to Lucas, his forehead brushing his husband’s. "By the time your heat hits, you’ll be in our own bed in our own house."
Lucas’s breath eased out between them, slow and unhurried, the tension around his mouth loosening for the first time all evening. "Good," he said quietly. "I’m tired of being polite in other people’s houses."
Trevor let out a sound that was almost a laugh, almost a growl, his thumb still stroking the warm skin at the back of Lucas’s neck. "Then it’s settled."
The next morning the world moved with a different rhythm. Dawn barely broke over the capital before the tinted convoy rolled out of the underground garage toward the private terminal. The sky was a washed-out silver, the kind that promised heat later, and the city still smelled faintly of last night’s rain. Inside the lead car, Lucas leaned back against the seat, collar open, the soft leather pressing cool against his spine. He could taste the faint metallic chill of the cabin’s air-conditioning and the quiet buzz of the engine under his shoes.
Trevor sat opposite him in the facing seat, jacket off now, shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. Without the layers of the office, his scent drifted more freely, warm cedar threaded with the faint salt of jet fuel and the mineral bite of his cologne. Lucas had forgotten how much he missed it.
Windstone’s voice came briefly over the intercom to confirm that baggage and documents had been loaded. Trevor answered in a low murmur and set the tablet aside. When his gaze met Lucas’s again, it had lost its work-sharp edge.
"Two hours," Trevor said, his voice softer now. "By the time we touch down the staff will have the manor aired and your rooms prepared. Nobody but us and the inner guard."
Lucas’s mouth curved faintly. "Excessive," he murmured, echoing his own thought from the night before. Copper light from the early sun slid over his face as the car turned onto the access road. "But I won’t complain."
The convoy eased through the last security gate and onto the tarmac, where the Fitzgeralt jet waited, a long, sleek shape of matte white and dark trim, steps already lowered. The smell of jet fuel mingled with morning air and cedar from Trevor’s skin, a steady anchor cutting through the sterile scent of the cabin. Trevor reached across the space between them, his fingers brushing Lucas’s knee, grounding.
"Come on," he said quietly. "Let’s go home."