Another happy day in Falville…or is it? Read all about Holt Enterprises' newest deal!
Agent Laurel Kristopherson reopens closed cold cases of kidnapped sophomore students.
Waking up was like dragging himself out of a muddy swamp after a long, grueling hike. Sario blinked awake slowly, his eyelids scratching like sandpaper. He was so warm and comfortable and—
Fuck.
He had rolled over sometime in the middle of the night, and somehow the carefully preserved distance between him and Marlowe had been completely erased. Sario was quite literally wrapped around Marlowe, their bodies touching in every possible way: Marlowe's head tucked under Sario's chin, Marlowe's back pressed to Sario's chest, and Marlowe's legs intertwined with Sario's. Sario almost had a heart attack and died on the spot. It was everything he had wanted when going to sleep, but waking up with the knowledge that Marlowe would probably – no, definitely – kill him for this was terrifying. He started to remove his arm from around Marlowe's waist, but then Marlowe stirred and actually pulled Sario's arm closer and tighter across his waist with a soft little sound. Sario felt his heart melt in real time and surrendered to whatever asleep Marlowe wanted. He watched Marlowe's face, noting the little twitches of his eyebrows and lips and eye movements beneath the closed lids. He was almost certain Marlowe was having some sort of bad dream again, and he hoped that their unintentional closeness was helping.
It took almost a full hour for Marlowe to claw his own way into awakeness. His slightly fluffy brown hair fell over his eyes as he blinked up at the ceiling. His gaze snapped down to where Sario's arm was serving as a belt across his waist and then went straight to Sario's face.
Sario did his best to look innocent, though he was sure he just looked guilty in Marlowe's eyes. "Good morning?" he tried hopefully.
Marlowe seemed to shrink into the mattress, which was pretty impressive considering its firmness. He turned away so fast that Sario barely caught the deep red spreading across his pale cheeks. With the blankets bunched up below his hips and without the huge hoodie hiding his torso, his upper body was on full display, and it was so perfect that Sario had to make himself look away. Marlowe would certainly knee him in the groin for thinking that his waist was perfectly slutty.
Yeah, no. That thought would send Sario to the earliest grave anyone in the Holt bloodline had ever managed.
After a minute of awkward silence, Marlowe got up. When Sario glanced over, he was zipping himself back into his hoodie. He gave Sario a death glare and went into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary.
Left alone for the moment, Sario sat up and ran a hand through his crazy morning curls. "I'm screwed," he whispered to himself for the second time in less than twelve hours. He got up and got dressed quickly before Marlowe came out of the bathroom with a scowl on his face that looked like he had practiced it in the mirror first for maximum damage. Sario stepped out of his way. "Sorry," he apologized under his breath, unsure if volume would antagonize Marlowe.
Marlowe glared, but there was something in his eyes that was soft and scared. Scared? Why was he scared? He had said before that anyone who found out he was an omega treated him like he was needy. Was he scared that Sario would treat him like that?
"That was totally my bad," Sario said, taking the fall even though Marlowe was at least partially to blame. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to. I just woke up and we were like that."
Marlowe stood there like a statue for a moment and then shrugged like he could care less. His mask was back on, all but hiding the fear in his eyes from Sario. "I'll wait for you to get ready. I'm not going to burst your mom's bubble. It'll work in our favor if we play into her assumptions." He had a point, unfortunately.
It was on the tip of Sario's tongue to ask how many other people Marlowe had played this scheme with, but he realized before the words formed how rude and insensitive that would be and chose to just nod instead as he headed into the bathroom to speed run through his morning routine. He used some of the extra time to stare forlornly into the mirror before joining Marlowe back in the bedroom and walking downstairs by his side.
"Good morning!" Sario's mom called out cheerily as soon as she saw them. She delivered two full plates of food to the kitchen table. "Orange or grape juice?"
"Orange, please," Sario replied, taking the seat next to Darius even though he would like nothing better than to throat punch his older brother. He would rather face Darius' jerk remarks than Marlowe's fury, and that was saying something. He glanced at Marlowe, who had taken the seat beside him without a word.
Marlowe jerked like a puppetmaster had just jerked on his controlling strings. "Orange juice is fine for me too, Mrs. Holt. Thank you."
She placed two glasses of orange juice on the table and ruffled Marlowe's hair affectionately. "You can call me Mamá just like Rowan does. Mrs. Holt is just a little too formal for family, don't you think?"
Darius leaned forward and grinned at Marlowe like the Cheshire cat of this stupid family. "Yeah," Darius echoed, "don't you think?"
Sario nailed Darius with the iciest glare in his arsenal. "Back off, Darius."
Surprised by his tone, Darius actually did back off and returned to his own breakfast.
Sario allowed himself to feel secretly pleased and focused on shoveling his mom's delicious food into his mouth. That is, until he caught a glimpse of Marlowe's plate out of the corner of his eye.
Marlowe was picking at his food like a baby bird, barely picking up crumbs on the tines of the fork clenched in his hand. Was this why he was so slender? How long had he been starving himself?
Sario leaned over, panic raising his heart rate. "Do you want to eat something else? Or would you be more comfortable eating up in my room?"
Marlowe's head snapped around so fast their noses brushed. His eyes scrutinized Sario's face like he was looking for a lie there. "I'm fine," he muttered, lowering his eyes to his still full plate. He was so obviously not fine that even Darius looked over, brows scrunched together. But Marlowe ignored all the concerned looks cast in his direction and kept taking the smallest bites possible.
Sario left the matter alone. He knew better than to question Marlowe when he was in a mood like this, but it did mostly kill his own appetite. How could he enjoy eating when the person beside him, the person he was supposed to care about the most in the world, was miserable? As soon as he could, he got them away from the table and gave his mom a look that said not to ask Marlowe about his lack of eating and the amount of food left on his plate. Once they got back to the relative safety of Sario's room, he turned to Marlowe with an expression he hoped would not be mistaken as pity. "Are you okay?"
Marlowe scowled and reached out for the door handle to escape back out into the hallway. "There's nothing wrong with me, Sario Holt. Now leave me the fuck alone until we have to plan my funeral – oh, sorry, my wedding – and then put me out of my misery as soon as possible, okay? Do you comprendo or do I have to repeat myself with more force?"
Sario winced. "Not to criticize you, but that felt kinda racist."
Marlowe sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it aggressively. "Fine. I'm sorry. But seriously, stay the fuck out of my hair. I know you're pretending you care and all, but it's suffocating when we're alone. Just drop it. Please."
Sario scratched the back of his neck, not sure how to explain to Marlowe that he really cared and it was not simply an act. "Um, okay." Agreeing was the easiest course of action. As they spent more time together, it would become obvious that Sario was no actor. At least that was what Sario hoped would happen.
Marlowe handled all of Sario's mom's wedding excitement with much more calm than Sario had expected. He smiled when appropriate and agreed with almost every suggestion made. He agreed to the venue, to the guest list, and even to a stylist friend of the family deciding what he would wear. It felt like he was simply signing his life away, which – ironically – was more or less the situation.
All Sario could do was watch from the sidelines until all the details had been set and then offer to take Marlowe home, only to have his offer waved away by his mom yet again. He wanted to hide in embarrassment when she said it would be best for them to just stay together until the wedding in three weeks. Sario was going to keep up appearances for Marlowe's sake. He had seen how terrified Marlowe was of this Senator Paolo, and he did not have to know the complete backstory to know that he would do anything to keep Marlowe safe from whatever horrors that man had unleashed upon his life.