I Married the 'Mad' Heir

Ch 27: The Bed and the Promise

After Master Arlen left, the room was quiet again. Orion felt the pain throbbing in his head, but it was a little softer now. Maybe it was the medicine. Maybe it was just knowing Abel was nearby.

Abel sat in the chair, holding Orion’s hand. He was quiet for a long time, just watching Orion breathe. His thumb moved back and forth over Orion’s knuckles, slow and steady.

Then, very carefully, Abel let go of his hand. He stood up from the chair. It creaked under his weight.

Orion watched him, confused. ”Where are you going?”

”Not far,” Abel whispered.

Instead of leaving, Abel walked around to the other side of the big bed. He looked at the empty space beside Orion. He looked at Orion’s face, asking a silent question.

Orion understood. He gave a tiny, careful nod. ”It’s okay.”

A wave of relief washed over Abel’s tired face. He climbed onto the bed, moving with surprising gentleness for such a big man. He was trying not to jostle the mattress too much.

He settled on his side, facing Orion. Then, slowly, he lifted his arm. He hesitated, his eyes searching Orion’s for any sign of pain or refusal.

Orion shifted just a fraction, an invitation.

Abel’s arm came down, wrapping around Orion’s shoulders. He pulled him close, very slowly, until Orion’s head was resting against his chest. Abel’s other arm came around him too, until Orion was completely wrapped up in his warmth. Abel’s chin rested gently on top of Orion’s bandaged head.

It didn’t hurt. The position was careful, secure. Orion was surrounded by the scent of warm cedar and clean skin. He could feel the strong, steady beat of Abel’s heart against his ear. It was the safest he had ever felt.

Abel let out a long, shaky breath, his whole body relaxing. ”Better,” he mumbled into Orion’s hair.

”Much better,” Orion agreed, his voice muffled against Abel’s shirt.

They lay like that for a while. The fire crackled. The room was warm. Orion’s eyelids grew heavy again, but he fought to stay awake. This moment felt too important to sleep through.

”I was so scared,” Abel said quietly. His voice rumbled in his chest under Orion’s ear.

Orion didn’t say anything. He just listened.

”When you fell... there was a sound. A bad sound.” Abel’s arm tightened around him, just a little. ”And then you were so still. And there was all that red on the floor.” He took a ragged breath. ”I thought you broke. Like my horse. But you can’t glue a person back together.”

The simple, horrible logic of it made Orion’s heart ache.

”I kept calling your name. You wouldn’t answer. Your eyes were open but you weren’t looking at me. You were just... gone.” Abel’s voice hitched. ”I thought you went away forever. Because I was bad. Because I made Ashford angry at you.”

”No,” Orion said firmly, lifting his head as much as he dared to look up at him. ”You didn’t make him do anything. He chose to be cruel. That’s on him, Abel. Not you.”

Abel looked down at him, his golden eyes full of doubt and sorrow. ”But if I was smarter... or stronger... or if I remembered how to be a proper Alpha... I could have stopped him. I could have caught you.”

”You did catch me,” Orion said softly. ”Not when I fell. But after. You’re catching me right now.”

Abel blinked, thinking about that. His arms tightened again, pulling Orion even closer, as if to prove the point.

”Master Arlen says you have to stay here. In the bed. For a long time,” Abel said, his tone shifting to one of grim determination. ”So I’ll stay here too. I’ll bring you food. I’ll tell you stories. I’ll keep the blankets right. I won’t let anyone come in and be mean.”

Orion almost smiled. ”You’ll be my guard?”

”Yes,” Abel said, utterly serious. ”My most important job.”

They were quiet again. Orion listened to the fire and the heartbeat.

”When you get up again,” Abel said after a while, his voice full of hopeful planning. ”When the ouch in your head is less... we’ll go out. With Angel. Just like we planned.”

Orion remembered the secret picnic, ruined by Ashford’s scheme. ”Another date?”

”Yes,” Abel said, nodding against Orion’s head. ”A real one. In the meadow. With the bread and cheese and apples. And flowers. We’ll take a blanket this time. And we’ll sit in the sun. And...” He paused, his voice dropping to a shy whisper. ”And we’ll kiss again. Like we did before. If... if you want to.”

The memory of that clumsy, sweet kiss in the stable yard washed over Orion. The blush on Abel’s cheeks. The way his own heart had stuttered. It felt like a lifetime ago.

A soft laugh escaped Orion, though it made his head protest a little. ”We don’t need to go on a date to kiss, you know.”

The effect was instant.

Abel’s whole body went still. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. He pulled back just enough to look down at Orion, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. ”We don’t?”

”No,” Orion said, smiling up at him. ”People can kiss whenever they want to. If both people want to.”

Abel stared at him. His brain was clearly working hard, processing this new information. It seemed to conflict with everything he’d been secretly planning with the children’s council. The date was the setup. The kiss was the special prize at the end. That was the rule.

”But... the date makes it special,” Abel argued softly, his brow furrowed.

”The kiss makes it special,” Orion corrected gently. ”The where doesn’t matter so much.”

Abel’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked utterly bewildered. ”So... we could have kissed... anytime? All this time?”

”Well, maybe not anytime,” Orion said, amused by his total confusion. ”Not in front of your father at breakfast. But yes. When we’re alone. If we feel like it.”

Abel was silent for a full minute. Orion could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He was re-evaluating days, maybe weeks, of missed opportunities.

”I didn’t know that,” Abel finally said, his voice full of wonder and a hint of regret.

”It’s okay,” Orion reassured him. ”It’s a good rule to have a date first. It’s sweet. But it’s not the only rule.”

Abel nodded slowly, absorbing this. He looked down at Orion, his gaze dropping to his lips, then back up to his eyes. A new kind of curiosity was there now, mixed with the same old affection. The ”what if” was suddenly a ”could we... right now?”

Orion saw the question forming. He answered it by tilting his head up, just a little. It was an invitation.

Abel’s breath caught. He looked from Orion’s eyes to his lips and back again, as if making sure he was reading the signal right. He swallowed nervously.

Then, with infinite care, he leaned down.

He was so gentle. His lips were warm and soft as they brushed against Orion’s. It wasn’t like the first surprised kiss. This one was slow. Purposeful. Abel held himself perfectly still, as if Orion were made of glass. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before Abel pulled back, his eyes searching Orion’s face.

”Was that okay?” he whispered. ”I didn’t hurt your head?”

”You didn’t hurt my head,” Orion whispered back. His own heart was doing a slow, deep roll in his chest. ”It was perfect.”

A brilliant, relieved smile broke across Abel’s face. It was the first real smile Orion had seen since the fall. It lit up his tired eyes and erased some of the shadows.

”So we can do that again?” Abel asked, hope making his voice bright.

”We can do that again,” Orion confirmed.

Abel didn’t immediately lean in for another kiss, though. He just kept smiling, looking at Orion as if he’d given him the most wonderful gift in the world. He settled back down, tucking Orion’s head under his chin again, sighing with deep contentment.

”This is better than a date,” Abel declared softly, his arms snug around Orion. ”Dates are outside. Outside has stairs. And Ashfords. This is safer.”

Orion had to agree. Here, in the warm bed, wrapped in Abel’s arms, the world and its dangers felt very far away.

”We’ll still go on the date, though,” Abel promised after a moment. ”When you’re better. Because picnics are fun. And Angel likes the meadow. And I want to give you flowers. But we can have kisses here too. Any time.”

”Any time,” Orion echoed, already feeling drowsy.

”Good,” Abel said, sounding supremely satisfied. He began to hum, a low, tuneless sound of pure contentment. His hand came up to stroke Orion’s hair, carefully avoiding the bandage.

Orion let his eyes close. The pain was still there, a dull background noise. But it was outweighed, completely, by the feeling of being held. Of being safe. Of being wanted, not for what he could do, but just for being here.

He drifted toward sleep, anchored by the arms around him and the steady heartbeat in his ear.

Just before sleep took him, he heard Abel whisper one last thing, fierce and soft against his hair.

”No more falling. I’ve got you now.”