9. Taming the stallion

9. Taming the stallion

The morning had started well enough — he'd marched up to the mansion in fine spirits. What he couldn't fathom was why, under the same roof as Aeroc without catching so much as a glimpse of him, he was being made to walk back and forth across the study while the butler berated him.

"Chin in! Shoulders back! Not so fast."

Hugo had produced a riding crop from somewhere and was using it freely to correct Kloff's posture. When Kloff demanded to know what the hell this was, the crop came down hard on his shoulder.

"If you wish to be a worthy partner for the count, you will begin by learning proper carriage."

"Ah. So this is what they call the aristocratic bride course?"

"Closer to breaking a wild colt, but yes, essentially."

"……Stallion, surely."

"Pfft."

Kloff glared at the undisguised snicker, but Hugo's face was already impassive. He pointed to one end of the room and commanded: "Walk. Properly." Kloff obeyed, for the time being. The crop stung, and beyond that, now that he'd resolved to pursue a career in government, there was every chance he'd be moving in palace circles — where this kind of instruction would prove invaluable.

Think of it positively. The butler was one step behind him at all times, rapping his shoulder the instant it dipped, and the simmering rage was considerable — but Kloff made a conscious decision to see the bright side. This resolve lasted until the end of the morning's posture lesson, when Hugo presented him with a staggering stack of humanities texts as he was about to leave for the office.

"I will examine you on the contents tomorrow. Read them all."

"All of this by tonight? Surely you haven't read them yourself?"

Though he'd focused on law and economics at university, Kloff could claim a respectable breadth of reading in the humanities — yet half these titles he knew only by name, and the other half he'd never heard of. The idea that the butler could test him on them strained belief.

"Of course I haven't. This is a selection from a list the count prepared."

"Then who examines me?"

"The count will, tomorrow at this hour. I suggest you make an effort not to disappoint him."

"Oh?"

Kloff's eyes lit up. He nodded and unconsciously licked his lips. Hugo, who had been polishing his monocle with a handkerchief and fitting it back into place, added: "I will be present as well, so abandon any idle hopes" — and walked off, leaving Kloff standing bereft with the books in his arms.

He absolutely refused to lose. He wanted recognition, of any kind. It was that competitive fire that had carried a penniless scholarship student to the top of his class and earned a professor's sponsorship. Even now, he was giving everything he had to obtain what he wanted.

From late morning to late afternoon he saw clients and drafted investment plans for the national fund. The field was new — there were reams of data to gather, and international law he hadn't touched since university needed reviewing. He was impossibly busy. By the time he dragged himself home in the late evening, he was running on fumes.

"You've been working so hard lately. What will you do if you ruin your health?"

Martha set out an easily digestible soup, soft bread, and juice, looking worried. Kloff wolfed it down, then asked her to bring tea to the study. Martha planted her hands on her hips and launched into a lecture.

"Work is fine while you're young, but you need to sleep, too. Keep burning the candle like this and you'll be dead before you land that pretty bride."

"It's precisely to win that bride that I'm putting in the work. Martha — make the tea strong, please."

He dropped a kiss on her cheek, picked up the heavy books, and went to the study. Jacket and waistcoat flung aside, cufflinks and tie undone, he opened the four volumes Hugo had given him.

The first was Typologies of Sin. Essential reading for the ruling class — but Kloff, who had never thought of himself as ruling class, had only skimmed it once for general knowledge. The thought of plowing through all of them made him want to weep, but backing down now would mean never laying a finger on Aeroc again. He steeled himself and opened to the first page.

By dawn he'd finished two, but four was out of the question. Sensing that Aeroc would drill down on the ethics of sin, he'd given that book and one other philosophical volume a close reading; the remaining two he'd skimmed. Even that had cost him most of the night. He dozed off and woke to the sound of Martha stirring early in the morning. He'd fallen asleep face-down at the study desk, it seemed. He staggered to his room in a fog and took a scalding shower.

It was his first all-nighter on an assignment since graduating, but a short nap had taken the worst of the edge off — his stamina was something he could count on. Under the hot water, the thought of seeing Aeroc shortly made him restless. Despite the near-total lack of sleep, the moment he pictured the man, blood rushed south. A natural morning response compounded the problem, and Kloff swore under his breath, stifling the groans that tried to escape. The finish, as always, was hollow.

Why am I doing this to myself when I have a perfectly good omega partner?

A faint pall of self-pity settled, but he shook it off. Effort would bring reward. He dried off and dressed to go out.

At the mansion the butler was waiting again. The study — and disappointingly, no Aeroc. His face must have shown it, because Hugo answered before he could ask.

"Shoulders straight! If you cannot pass the first stage, you will not see the count."

Protesting that this wasn't an examination and what was this stages business only earned another crack of the crop, so Kloff demonstrated what he'd learned the day before. He was far from slow-witted, and he had a strong knack for applying new skills on the spot. Hugo watched intently, clearly hunting for something to critique, then gave a grudging, expressionless nod. Kloff was certain the old man was disappointed.

"Wait here a moment."

Hugo left the study and returned shortly — with Aeroc. Kloff shot to his feet. Dressed in understated luxury, dark blond hair combed neatly back, Aeroc entered with a faint smile — which, the moment he caught sight of Kloff, slipped ever so slightly out of its practiced composure.

Both hands stretched forward, a guileless expression — Kloff was about to move when Hugo cleared his throat from alongside. Aeroc startled, corrected his posture, restored the prim smile, and gave a measured nod. Kloff, who'd had his arms open ready to receive him, deflated with a soft huh and settled for a polished bow. Damn the old man.

Aeroc approached with elegant poise and extended a hand for a handshake, but Kloff seized it, pulled sharply, and folded Aeroc into his arms. He kissed the man on the lips, pointedly, for the butler to see. Stiff with surprise, Aeroc's face when the kiss broke was — ever so slightly — wistful. He blinked open the eyes he'd closed at some point.

"Have you been well?"

"Have you?"

While they exchanged greetings, Kloff held him lightly and pressed another kiss into the golden hair. Behind them, the butler's expression was something to behold. Kloff smiled in triumph and let his hand deliberately trace the smooth curve of the back and waist. After such a long separation, releasing Aeroc was unthinkable. When he whispered — Are you hurt anywhere? Did you miss me? — Aeroc laughed softly.

Hugo coughed like a man with consumption, several times in succession. Aeroc gave Kloff a gentle push and stepped away. He sat down, glancing at Hugo, and Kloff made to take the seat beside him — but Hugo charged between them, brandishing the crop. Kloff took the opposite chair under duress. Sparks flew between the two men. Aeroc smiled ruefully and picked up the first book.

Once the questioning began, Aeroc proved worse than the butler. Kloff, who had never in his life been outmatched on an oral examination, found himself scrambling.

"Why do you think that?"

This was the worst kind of question. When asked — beyond the standard ethical obligations of a ruling class toward its subjects — what reason there was for the upper class to show consideration for the lower, Kloff had answered the stability of the ruling order. And that was the follow-up. It was a technique favored by certain professors who deliberately cornered students to observe how they reacted.

Normally he'd have marshaled every rhetorical trick available to turn the question back and seize the upper hand, but outmaneuvering Aeroc was both pointless and almost certainly impossible. So he stretched his leg under the table until it found Aeroc's. A slow rub, and while he stalled — "Well, let me think" — color rose in that pale, composed face. Aeroc bit his lip, then glared with a hard set to his eyes. Kloff feigned ignorance and grew bolder with his leg.

"Wh—— what are you."

"Hmm? Something wrong?"

Kloff grinned shamelessly. Aeroc was about to snap back when he registered Hugo's presence behind him and shut his mouth. Flustered, he managed: "……Let's move on to a different question," and reached for another book. With his attention divided, his questions lost their edge, and Kloff was able to answer at leisure.

"It seems you did read them all."

"I don't lie. Unlike some people."

"Well…… that's enough for today."

Aeroc stood abruptly. Hugo, who had been observing from a slight distance, looked puzzled at the early conclusion — unaware of what had transpired. Kloff chuckled. Aeroc paused on his way out of the study, thought for a moment, and glanced back.

"Find the next set of books for him, please. Tell him I'll see him in two days."

"Understood, sir."

After Aeroc left, Hugo produced another four volumes. Kloff took them and nearly fell over.

"He really said to give me these?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"No. No, not at all."

Hugo had clearly never read any of them. Kloff walked out, climbed into his carriage, and laughed in disbelief. Then he had to fight very hard to suppress the desire surging unmistakably upward. Three of the four were unremarkable humanities texts. The fourth, however, was The History of Tribulation, Volume II.

By its title it looked like an ordinary religious or historical work. And technically, it was. The problem was that The History of Tribulation was a single volume — there was no Volume II. Books like this were invariably rebound with a false cover; unless it was a political tract, what lay inside was almost always hard pornography banned for public indecency. The same trick had circulated among students at university. He opened it, and sure enough——

"I'm going to lose my mind."

It told the story of an omega maiden from a noble house who is suddenly cursed — condemned to survive only by coupling with an alpha — and proceeds to bed every alpha she can find, indiscriminately. The content was eye-watering. There was more moaning than dialogue. Sending this book was an unmistakable invitation. Two weeks of pretending he didn't exist, and the peace offering was pornography. The cunning, duplicitous omega. How was he supposed to wait two days?

When those two days came, Kloff had made a valiant effort to read the other three volumes — but having inevitably given The History of Tribulation, Volume II a close reading, he could barely wait for morning. He scarcely acknowledged Martha as she set out breakfast, gulped down his tea cut with cold water, and tore out of the house. Suppressing his excitement with every scrap of composure he possessed, he stepped into the mansion — and for once was greeted not by Hugo but by a different footman.

"The butler?"

"He has gone out on the count's orders. This way, sir."

By now Kloff was genuinely astonished. The footman, who didn't move nearly fast enough for his liking, led him not to the study but to the private sitting room — the inner parlor used by the family. Not the bedroom, as he'd hoped, but for many an aristocratic household this room served such purposes perfectly well — discreet enough. Kloff could not sit still. He barely touched the tea the footman brought.

Then a side door opened and Aeroc walked in. He greeted Kloff with a light smile and a nod, as if nothing in particular were happening — then turned and locked the door behind him. He crossed to the door Kloff had entered through and locked that, too. Then he went to the window that filled the parlor with light, bent forward, and peered outside.

Kloff watched the view from behind. Beneath the light indoor jacket, the lines of Aeroc's back and waist — and below, firm thighs and buttocks delineated by well-tailored trousers. Kloff couldn't form words; he could only swallow. Then Aeroc reached out and drew the heavy curtains shut. All of them. Before his eyes could adjust to the sudden dark, a scent reached him — sweet and bittersweet. He blinked several times, and through the dimness saw Aeroc approaching, jacket sliding from his shoulders to the floor.

Christ. I'm going to die in this room today.

"Did you read the book I gave you?"

"Every word."

Aeroc drew close, a subtle smile on his lips, and draped both arms around Kloff's neck, pressing their bodies flush. The swollen ache that had been building since he'd walked through the door met the resistance of Aeroc's body, and Kloff couldn't hold back the low sound that escaped him. He caught Aeroc's waist and lunged for a kiss — but Aeroc turned his head aside. Kloff settled for the neck, then behind the ear, lips seeking skin while his knee parted Aeroc's legs.

Aeroc exhaled a shallow sigh and whispered, in a voice already fraying at the edges: "What about The History of Tribulation, Volume II?" The words were so obscenely charged that Kloff nearly came from that alone. Instead he bit lightly into the fragrant, smooth column of throat and rode the crisis out.

"……I've practically memorized it."

"You did your homework so diligently — I should give you a reward."

"Are you trying to kill me, or are you planning to die?"

"We'll see."

Before he could answer, Aeroc's lips collided with his. A bold, smooth tongue slid past his teeth, and Kloff surrendered half his wits to the kiss. While they devoured each other, he tugged Aeroc's shirttails free. One hand cupped the backside; the other roamed back and waist; his hips ground forward.

Meanwhile Aeroc was unbuttoning Kloff's jacket, then his waistcoat, then his tie. When Aeroc moved to strip the layers away, Kloff lifted his hands to let them go. The jacket Martha had so painstakingly pressed tumbled to the floor in a crumpled heap while the kiss never broke — deep enough that the wet sounds were audible. Aeroc was working on Kloff's shirt buttons when he made a noise of frustration.

"Why do you have so many buttons?"

Kloff reclaimed Aeroc's mouth, undid his own cufflinks first, then yanked the shirt over his head without finishing the buttons. The bare, solid chest drew Aeroc's hands immediately; he stroked the expanse of it and pressed his lips to Kloff's nape. Then, pushing Kloff backward, he toppled him onto the long sofa.

"Oof."

While the fallen Kloff winced and righted himself, Aeroc left the shirt where it was and went for the trousers. Eyes still locked on his, Aeroc kicked off shoes and trousers alike and climbed astride the half-reclined alpha's waist. He tipped his head back, swept the blond hair up with one hand, lowered his gaze, and smiled. Kloff had to survive a second near-crisis through nothing but a clenched fist and sheer willpower.

He reached for the elegant waist of the man who had mounted him. Aeroc, with startling boldness, put his hands to Kloff's trousers. Each time slightly cool fingers grazed the skin of his lower abdomen, Kloff wanted nothing more than to throw the man down and drive forward — but Aeroc had kissed him first, was undressing him of his own volition. How often he'd get to witness this was anyone's guess. He held on by force.

At last, having navigated the obstacle, Aeroc got what he wanted. He looked up at Kloff from beneath raised brows. The cool hand closed around him, and gooseflesh and fire erupted at once. Already large, it hardened further in his grip, and Aeroc lifted one corner of his mouth as he stroked. Gone was the man who'd trembled at the edge of tears, begging please — in his place, a seductress had taken the saddle. Kloff's mind went blank.

"You're incredibly hot."

"……You are Aeroc, right?"

Aeroc glanced down, gauging position, then tilted his head with a quizzical look. That innocent gesture. Was he really going to die here today? While Kloff gaped, unable to string a sentence together, something clicked behind Aeroc's eyes — and he laughed.

"If you don't believe me, shall I prove it?"

"There's no need to rush——"

"There's no time. Hugo will be back any minute."

With that, Aeroc took hold of Kloff and lowered himself. Without any preparation, the entrance — already slick on its own — swallowed him whole. As expected, taking it raw was too much; Aeroc braced both hands on Kloff's chest, brow furrowed, struggling — and the strain only made Kloff swell harder.

"Ah——"

Aeroc felt it. He shot him a look — a real look. Not a glare. Through parted lips, breathing hot, he fixed Kloff with an expression so loaded it stopped his lungs. Kloff gripped the sinuous waist and helped ease him all the way down.

"Nngh…… hah……"

Fully seated, Aeroc released the breath he'd been holding. Between the parted tails of his shirt, flushed and fiercely erect, his sex stood rigid. The sight of Aeroc taking him inside, feeling it, reacting — Kloff's grip on reality was slipping. When he reached for the vivid length, Aeroc swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch it. I'll come if you do."

"……Aeroc."

Too far gone even for surprise, Kloff could only stare upward. Aeroc took the slack hand and placed it on his own thigh, then braced himself against the solid plane of Kloff's abdomen and began to move.

The dry air of the little parlor turned humid in no time. The heat of their combined breathing raised the temperature, and the fine silk shirt on the man rolling his hips atop the larger body soaked through with sweat, clinging to skin. The moment Kloff caught sight of the pale pink points standing out at the chest, restraint became impossible — he sat up. Aeroc threw his arms around Kloff's neck and drew a sharp breath, but never stopped moving.

The pleasure was agonizing. Brow creased, face taut with it, Aeroc felt the large hands climb his body to rake across his nipples — and clamped his thighs tighter around Kloff's waist. Then he fisted the dark brown hair, tilted Kloff's head back, and kissed him.

When the hot intrusion struck a particular spot, Aeroc broke the kiss, gasping, and trembled in fine, rapid shivers. As the angle kept catching that same place, his eyelids fluttered and he tried to rise — but Kloff seized the waist and pulled him firmly back down.

"Aah……"

The anguished moan broke free. The inner walls clenched around Kloff in spasmodic contractions. In the same instant, something hot splashed across Kloff's abdomen, and a powerful wave of scent hit him. The moment his omega peaked, Kloff couldn't hold back either. He branded the inside of that unbearably erotic, blazing body with his own. Their scents tangled together; their tongues tangled together.

Once wasn't enough. He toppled Aeroc backward and was lifting one spent leg onto his shoulder when the man — basking in the haze of afterglow — shoved at him in alarm.

"Hugo's going to be back any—— ah……"

Kloff ignored him, sucking hard at the nape while the still-rigid length stirred the scorching interior. He'd found the spot — Aeroc couldn't finish his sentence, and the softened sex between the man's legs was soon standing stiff again. The tip leaked something thick and translucent. The sight was appetizing, but more urgent matters lay elsewhere. He wrapped his hand around it instead, stroking in long pulls, and Aeroc begged him with wrecked, unfocused eyes.

"Just hold on a little longer. I'll be quick."

"No…… not there……"

He wasn't even gripping hard, but Aeroc's lashes were trembling, his face on the verge of tears as he clung to Kloff. As though he'd never been touched there before — the overwhelmed reaction only fanned the relentless desire of an alpha already burning beyond control. Beneath him, the omega cried out in thin, reedy keens and shook.

When the alpha reached his second peak and emptied himself in that deep heat, the omega finally seized the hand on his sex with both of his own, shoved it away, and came — a beat behind.

Kloff collapsed onto Aeroc, heaving. Aeroc, legs still splayed, still holding Kloff inside him, closed his eyes and gulped air in the same ragged rhythm. Kloff wanted to savor the afterglow, but — as Aeroc had warned — time was short. He pushed himself up and kissed the sweat-damp cheek.

"Hard work pays off, doesn't it? A reward like this — if I memorize the next book, will you give me another?"

He whispered it while sucking on the reddened earlobe, and Aeroc tilted his head toward him and nuzzled his cheek. The limp hands slid up to rest on Kloff's shoulders.

"……I saw Viscount Derbyshire last week."

"Why would you see him?"

The mood shattered. In the middle of basking in the aftermath, the last name he expected arrived like a bucket of cold water. Kloff's face went serious; he raised his head. Aeroc was watching him with that same faint, habitual smile.

"He asked whether I'd like to be introduced to an omega he knows."

Oh, for— The man's meddling didn't stop at Kloff. He'd extended his reach to Aeroc as well. What would it take to make him quit? After everything Derbyshire had done for him, stabbing the patron in the back wasn't an option. Kloff's expression soured.

"……And what did you say?"

"That I'd think about it."

"What?"

He bolted upright. The abrupt separation drew a small sound from Aeroc, who twisted away and then glared at Kloff through damp eyes, pulling his legs together. No matter how provocative the sight, no matter how the heat was already surging back — that wasn't the issue right now.

"You should have refused!"

"Why would I?"

"You——!"

He was so flabbergasted that words failed. He exhaled several futile puffs, scrubbed a hand over his face, and looked at the omega who sat there as though nothing were wrong — driving him out of his mind. He sighed deeply.

"You seduced me into bed, and now you're telling me you'll marry another alpha — no, another omega? Was this all a game? The books, the posture lessons — were they a joke?"

He was too drained for real fury; the question came out weary. Aeroc glared back as though he were the wronged party.

"You're the one who told Derbyshire you'd never marry an omega and had no intention of settling down with anyone. You dragged me into this, put me through a heat, and now you're telling me you plan to stay single for life? I have no interest in being toyed with."

"What?"

"First it's 'three of us at the altar,' 'as many children as you can bear' — and then——"

The low murmur carried a fury that ran very deep. Kloff turned to look at the man who'd spoken. Aeroc was genuinely angry — glaring at Kloff before abruptly looking away. The pieces fell into place, and Kloff was so dumbstruck he could only manage:

"Says the man who insists Aeroc Teiwind is an alpha."

He caught Aeroc as he tried to rise from the sofa, pushed him back down, and pinned him with his weight. Aeroc struggled and squirmed, but Kloff wrapped around him and held fast until resistance gave way to exhaustion. The anger, however, hadn't cooled in the slightest — he refused to look at Kloff.

"Did Viscount Derbyshire tell you that?"

"Don't try to deny it."

"I won't. I did say those things."

Aeroc turned, and the blue eyes that met his were brimming with betrayal. The lashes trembled faintly; the bitten lip shook — as though holding back tears. God. What was he supposed to do? Every single time, this wicked, cunning, maddening, beloved count played him like a puppet.

"As long as the world knows you as an alpha, going public is nearly impossible. You know that. I'm doing what I can. To make you my wife — that's why I'm reading those books, why I show up every morning to be whipped like a horse and relearn how to walk, something I haven't been taught since I was one year old. Did all of that look like a lie to you?"

"Then what you told Derbyshire wasn't the truth?"

"I have no intention of marrying another omega. Legally I'll most likely remain a bachelor. But if you'll have me, that changes everything."

"……I misunderstood?"

"In the future, might you try confirming with the person in question first? Though if the confirmation comes in the form of today's seduction, I certainly won't complain."

He pressed a branding kiss onto the slightly dazed lips, and Aeroc blinked in flustered surprise. So endearing, so dear — Kloff kept stealing kisses. At the same time, it didn't quite add up: Aeroc had felt betrayed, fine — but why had the response been seduction? He asked the question against lips that clung lightly, parted, then slowly reconnected.

"So what were you thinking, seducing me like this?"

"That's……"

He coaxed the full story out — persuasion, strictly speaking, though the lips working their way from nape to collarbone to sternum to nipple probably did more of the convincing. At any rate, Aeroc confessed between ragged breaths:

"I thought you were playing with me. So I was going to do the same to you."

He'd been mid-suck on the nipple and the laugh that escaped made him accidentally graze the sensitive peak with his teeth.

"Ow! That hurt!"

He watched Aeroc shove at him and couldn't stop laughing. How could anything this adorable exist? Mortified, face blazing, Aeroc pushed the howling Kloff away and stood, both fists clenched, trembling.

"Stop laughing! You rotten bastard."

The shout carried real force, but Kloff's eyes were on what was trickling down Aeroc's thigh and he heard none of it. Aeroc followed the gaze, turned an even deeper shade of red, and snatched up Kloff's jacket from the floor and hurled it at him. While Kloff pulled the garment off his head, Aeroc was already gathering his scattered clothes. Kloff came up behind him, slid an arm around his waist, murmured "Seducing me again?" and kissed the nape.

"Get off me!"

Aeroc spun to snap at him — and Kloff was calculating exactly how to topple him one more time when a knock came from outside.

"Young master, are you in there?"

Hugo's voice, thick with suspicion.

"Hugo — Kloff was never here. I was tired, I overslept — understood?"

Aeroc went white, shoved Kloff hard, gathered his clothes, and fled through the other door. Kloff dove for his shirt in the far corner, crammed the tails into his trousers, and started buttoning his waistcoat.

"Young master?"

He threw on the waistcoat, couldn't find the tie, scanned the room frantically — curtains open, window open, air the place out first — and then spotted the tie under the table. He snatched it up, looped it around his neck, knotted it roughly, and was just fastening his cufflinks when Hugo opened the door with a key.

"Young master? Are you in here?"

"Aeroc's not here. Said he was tired and didn't come today."

Kloff leaned against the windowsill, projecting ease, and delivered this in what he thought was a convincingly casual tone. Hugo's brow furrowed immediately into a glare. The twitch of the butler's nostrils suggested he'd detected something, and Kloff's stomach dropped. But Hugo said nothing — he surveyed the room in silence. It seemed like he might let it go. Then, as the butler took his first step, his foot caught on something. They both looked down at the same time. There, bereft of its mate, sat a single pair of shoes.

Oh, for God's sake. What are you, Cinderella?

Kloff covered his eyes with one hand, then lowered it to cover his mouth. Meanwhile Hugo picked up the shoes with trembling hands. He opened his barely steady lips.

"It's getting late. I think you should be going."

"Ah — much obliged."

Offering gratitude he didn't owe, Kloff snatched up his jacket and made for the door. From behind, the devil called after him:

"However! Tomorrow I believe we should meet two hours earlier than usual."

"Ha ha. Of course."

Feeling the murderous gaze boring into his back, Kloff made himself scarce before the enraged demon's eyes.

The following day, Kloff was subjected to hideous torture under the guise of physical conditioning. Conscripted into grounds work whose connection to aristocratic refinement was entirely opaque, he was worked half to death — and afterward given nothing but a single slab of coarse black bread before being put to the task of reorganizing the entire library. The vast collection, untouched since the late count's death and used by Aeroc alone, had to be sorted according to the Dewey Decimal System. By himself. Without any help.

He'd taken the day off work and devoted himself entirely to the task, but it wasn't finished until very late at night. Then, on the grounds that it was too late, he was denied a proper meal and thrown out. The count's coachman deposited the half-dead Kloff in front of his door and drove off without a word.

"Good heavens. At this rate you'll kill yourself. Is that omega really worth all this?"

"This is a fight I'm losing."

"There are plenty of easier people out there. I'll never understand your taste, sir."

Even so, Martha said nothing more. She helped Kloff to his bed, pulled off his shoes, and drew the sheet over him.

"Wake me before midnight. There are documents I need to review."

"All right. Rest for now."

"Thank you, Martha."

"At this rate my poor master's the only one who'll suffer. We'll see just how grand that illustrious household really is."

Martha grumbled her way out of the room. In that moment it occurred to Kloff that Martha might be the one person who could handle Hugo — but the thought didn't last. He was asleep in seconds.