The Sensible One (boyxboy) ✓

Chapter Forty One

In the morning I was indeed dragged down to breakfast, and by dragged I mean without the benefit of having a change of clothes or being able to collect my shoes, my jacket from Lowell's room, or a cold shower alleviate some of the symptoms that reoccurred during the night, and stumbling and shaky as I was it was almost painful to walk as he took me by my upper arm downstairs.

In the night I'd secretly reapplied to the scent disguiser. Whatever scent it was removing helped a little, helped reduce some of the heat I was experiencing, but it didn't do enough. I felt sensitive and awkward, as though I was on drugs for the first time in my life. Moving about had me fearing an erection would either appear or be made known, and while my cock wasn't exactly hard, it wasn't ever properly flaccid either.

I was breathing slightly heavily by the time I was shoved down into a seat at the massive expensive piece of marble we'd been introduced to the day prior.

People were moving about to serve the food and finished arranging plates etcetera. There was no reason for us to be down that early other than Bazile's eagerness to watch his brother suffer the embarrassment of going through a heat in front of his father, without being able to touch me.

That discomfort, I felt sure, must only belong to me, because the moment Lowell came down he looked self-assured, comfortable with himself, his shoulders seemed a little stiff but there was nothing in his expression to express heat or anything.

Dark secure eyes avoiding mine. Unshakeable. That was the word that came to mind. Tall and broad-shouldered. I saw everything I saw the first night I met him, irresistibly magnetic. How did you walk away from someone like that? 

Which was why looking at him across the table increased my need a thousand fold and just taking in his image burned right through me.

Half crumbling I bowed my head to focus my eyes only on my plate, breathing a little heavily, my face was red and burning, my forehead, ears and neck too, and the rest of me I suppose, but I felt these areas must have been noticeably red.

Lowell's father ignored me for the most part though, as he stepped into the room commanding the attention of everything with a few heavy footfalls.

Instead he turned to his son, not Bazile, that is, Lowell. I'd have pitied Bazile for not even getting a greeting if I didn't find the bad-intentioned brother so annoying.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked him.

Lowell narrowed his eyes. "No." He answered decisively.

He grunted and sat down, as though he didn't really care in the first place.

Food was served, and in a quantity that made you wander where exactly the food would be going once it was pecked at.

There were more guests than just us, instead of the usual five or six people having breakfast you might find in a large household, it was more like fifteen or sixteen. Most of them were silent, more preoccupied with the task of eating than anything else, but I felt the weight of the attention shifted first to Lowell, then also to me.

Eating felt uncomfortable, but I was hungry and the food was good, even if every five seconds my eyes slid back up to watch Lowell, who seemed to be getting on fine.

I ate to mask my discomfort.

"You can at least greet her." His father snapped.

Neither of us seemed to immediately realise the lady to his left was the one intimated at the beginning.

Lowell raised a brow at the admonition and glanced at her.

She was quite a bit shorter than him. Sitting around all of these people who I assumed were werewolves as well, I realised the height thing was not squarely a werewolf thing, for the most part they were somewhat taller than I felt was average for the demographic of men I was used to, but there were varying heights, some taller, some shorter, not all of them were tall, Lowell and his brother, father, and the so called enforcers, were unusually tall.