Free Web NovelChapter 211: _Still Owe Him
"Well, well, well." Devon drawled several minutes after Ambrose left, his eyes sweeping over Viktor’s approaching form. "Someone doesn’t seem too excited after Rose left."
He stood behind the kitchen island, chowing down on some fruity oats. He was too emotionally worn out to make anything remotely complex—plus, Orion loved it.
Viktor grabbed a chair in front of the island, forcing a smile. "Tch. I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"I believe you do." Devon snorted. "I can basically smell the disappointment on you."
"Didn’t realise you’ve become a member of the canine family, Devon. Got any other powers other than annoying me?"
"At least now you know how I feel when you’re the one doing it."
They both stayed silent after that.
The only sound drifting through the house was from the television. Orion had his bowl of oats between his hands, munching on them while his attention was glued on a cartoon.
Viktor glanced back at him and wished for a moment that he was like that.
A child with little to no worries.
"I know we have to be patient with Ambrose." This time when Devon spoke his voice was soft. Vulnerable. "I really do. But... but I can’t deny this stings a bit."
The Ice Prince arched a brow as Devon passed him his bowl. After a couple of seconds, he grabbed the spoon and spoke up.
"But you’re comfortable with me around now. Aren’t you?"
"And you know how long it took for us to get here." Devon scoffed. "Heck, we haven’t really gotten a definition of what we are from Ambrose. You just call us his husbands and I hope he at least sees me—I mean, us, as his partners."
He angled his head away from Viktor. "He said he ’cared’ about us." The words came out bitter. "Not loved. Never loved."
Viktor’s nose scrunched.
He fixed his eyes on his oats, taking a spoonful bite. He didn’t know if he was comfortable admitting his feelings to anyone.
Not Devon. And certainly not Ambrose.
Not yet at least.
"They’re just words," he found himself saying that out loud. "Right? It’s not really what matters."
"Sometimes it does, Vik. Especially when actions feel lacklustre. And you just want a sign—something to cling to. To assure yourself they feel the same way."
Each sentence that came out of the red-haired Esper’s mouth made Viktor’s stomach churn. Usually he was so open to the idea of discussing feelings.
After all... he rarely felt them intensely enough to be affected by them. To have them ruin his mood.
But now?
"I get what you mean." Was all he could say when the silence became annoying. He strode to the fridge, pulling out a can of vodka soda.
Once he popped it open, he added. "At the end of the day all we can do is be supportive, I guess." He stopped himself from freezing the can completely.
Then he downed most of it, letting it burn his throat. Maybe that would distract him from all these painfully confusing emotions.
★★★★★
Back at the restaurant, Ambrose had this odd feeling—the one he got when it felt like someone was talking about him.
He shrugged it off, bringing his focus back to the moment. The plan.
"I’m curious, Ambrose." Valentine arched an amused brow once a waiter dropped their orders. "Why did you decide to do this? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were looking to start something... dangerous."
Ambrose nearly choked on the sip of wine he’d just taken.
Dangerous?
His silver eyes widened for half a second before he forced himself to relax.
Smooth.
He needed to be smooth.
So he lowered the glass and offered Valentine what he hoped was a confident smile.
"Is there really anything wrong with treating the person who helped keep my secrets intact to something special?"
For a moment Valentine simply stared at him. Then—a low laugh escaped the Necromancer.
Deep and dangerously attractive.
"Something special?" Valentine repeated. "I’ll admit that’s one way of putting it."
Ambrose silently celebrated.
Definitely progress.
Until Valentine casually picked up his fork. "This dinner date doesn’t negate the fact that you still owe me for helping you though."
The celebration died immediately. "Owe you?"
Valentine hummed. "Mhm. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten."
"What kind of favour?"
"You’ll know in due time."
And just like that the man went back to eating as if he hadn’t casually dropped the most ominous sentence imaginable.
Ambrose stared, watching how Valentine remained completely unbothered.
What the hell kind of answer was that?
Eventually he gave up and discreetly opened his system panel.
[Valentine Lockwood]
[Attraction Points: 77]
Only seventy-seven.
He resisted the urge to bang his forehead against the table.
At this rate, he’d die of old age before reaching one hundred.
’Think, Ambrose. Think.’
Then inspiration struck, making his eyes widen.
The wine incident!
It worked on Viktor last time.
Granted, Viktor was basically a walking disaster magnet. But still, it was worth trying.
Ambrose slowly reached for his wine glass. Very carefully.
Then—
"Oh!"
The glass tilted.
Red wine splashed across the front of Valentine’s black shirt.
Ambrose immediately shot to his feet. "Oh my God!" The performance would’ve earned him an Oscar. "Valentine, I’m so sorry!"
A few nearby diners glanced over.
The Necromancer merely blinked.
Then he looked down at the stain, and back up at Ambrose.
Several painful seconds of silence passed.
Finally Valentine raised a hand. "You can stop panicking."
"Huh?"
"I can wipe it off myself."
Ambrose froze. "That wasn’t the point."
"What was the point then?"
The question nearly killed him.
"I mean—"
"No matter." Valentine sighed, pushing his chair back. "I have a spare shirt in my car."
"You keep spare clothes in your car?"
"I’ve known Gabriel for years."
Ambrose didn’t know how any of that mattered but Valentine wasn’t about to start explaining.
"Wait here."
He watched the SS-Rank get up then disappear out of the restaurant. A few seconds later, he sighed dramatically.
"Unbelievable."
One hundred attraction points suddenly felt impossible.
Defeated, he turned toward the massive glass wall beside their table.
His gaze drifted outside, toward the parking lot.
The Necromancer had already reached his car and opened the rear door.
Then, without warning, he grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it off.
Ambrose’s brain stopped functioning.
The black fabric slid away, revealing a body that honestly had no business existing.
Broad shoulders.
Powerful arms.
Defined muscles stretching across his chest and abdomen. Years of combat and training carved into every inch of him.
Under the glow of the parking lot lights, Valentine looked less like a Hunter and more like some ancient god that had wandered into modern civilization by mistake.
Ambrose forgot to blink. Forgot to breathe. Forgot every single attraction point he’d been obsessing over.
Because holy shit!
How was that even legal?
Just when he was considering looking away, Valentine snapped his neck to the restaurant. And those crimson eyes locked directly on him, making his pulse stutter.
