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O0o 26 Bitterswee

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Jules awakened. For three entire seconds, he felt nothing. Then, reality crashed down. He cringed, and even though lying in bed, he covered his face with his hands.

"Jules..." Halian pulled him close. "Jules, do you want your fans?"

Jules tapped his lips.

Halian got up and retrieved the fans for him. Jules violently flicked one open and fanned himself. He burned inside, and all over. Not fertile heat, not anger. Humiliation. He'd rather Charles be ashamed of him than to feel that shame himself, for Charles.

It would have been better to go on believing his father strong and proud.

Jules fought the blankets, and rolled out of bed. Naked, he strode to Hal's desk and found the ink bottle. He got a fine brush, and drew the characters he needed on his fans, one at a time. His throat had locked up. He couldn't even cry.

Aching inside and out, Jules collected his favorite clothing. The hakama, short kimono, and haori, made of heavy black silk, would feel good and show his mourning status. His only concession to being thoroughly proper was the white obi. Though claimed, he was still a virgin.

His fans were dry. Jules hooked them into his obi and retrieved the little bag with the Novar heirloom, sitting down on the bed. He poured the necklace out, and felt the slick, heavy beads one at a time. He looked at the man. He looked at Michael. He thought about how Adrian and Isla had only known him a short time and already trusted him with the symbols they held in such value.

Halian owned Jules.

Jules owned Halian's parents.

Jules hung the necklace on the bedpost, on the side he usually slept. No one would bother it. He'd keep the door locked anyway.

Halian appeared in his vision, crouching on the floor in front of him. His eyes were so blue. Jules didn't understand how a person could have eyes like that. So full of caring and compa.s.sion. All the ??????? in there.

"When you are trapped within yourself, Jules, it hurts to see," Hal said. "Shall we take a meal with your father?"

Jules relented upon that. He did need to explore his dad. Try to understand him. Charles wouldn't be alive much longer, and Jules wanted no regrets on his own end of things. 'Yes', he told Hal with a fan.

Hal combed his hair for him and stood back, slightly smiling. "Out of place to say it right now, but you look very handsome."

'Thank you', Jules said. It really wasn't out of place, and it made him feel a little better to know he wasn't presenting himself badly.

Once downstairs, Mary intercepted them. "Sir, you will be receiving a complaint," she said. "Cardiff gave impolite att.i.tude to Remington, and I threw him off the property for it. He intends to sue for wrongful termination, and physical harm."

"Send a word to my lawyer," Halian said. "Are you hurt, Mary?"


"No." Mary smiled as if that was funny. She looked at Hal with fondness in her eyes.

"Good. Take the rest of the day off, if you like. I'll put a housemaid onto your lighter duties."

"Very good, sir. Thank you."

Halian led Jules into the east wing. They found Jules's father sitting in the dim parlor, staring into a newly fed fire.

"Good morning," Halian said briskly, and pa.s.sed by Charles to start opening window blinds. The sun, startlingly bright, flooded the parlor and made Charles groan a little. "Come along, man," Halian said, opening another and another. "You've wallowed in your mess long enough. It's time to straighten up. You aren't going to die today."

Jules knelt close to Halian's position, an odd feeling of relaxation setting upon him now that he was actually in the same room with his father again. Staring at the problem instead of wondering about it, he supposed.
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Charles looked at him. "I hate seeing you submissive," he said sadly. "You were such a boisterous, happy child."

Jules remembered. But, there were certain things gone from his past, blotted out by pain and loss. He thought of Kara's questions, and motioned to Hal.

Halian watched him a moment before frowning, his eyes pained. "Jules wants to know his birthday," he reported to Charles. "Oh, ?????..."

"January twenty-fourth," Charles whispered. "The snow on the ground that morning was three feet thick. Jasmine named you after her mother, Julia. Jules, because it sounded like ??????. And you were her precious little gem. You weighed nine pounds exactly, and your hair was very dark. It wasn't until you were five or six that your hair changed color."

Jules stared at the floor, thinking about all that. His father had worked outside the home, and he'd been with his mother constantly. He'd helped her with housework and cooking, laundry and errands. They should have all suspected by his lack of complaint, and his interest in domestics, that he'd present as an omega.

"I'm bonding with Jules officially during Christmas," Halian informed Charles. "You are invited."

"That's two weeks," Charles said. "By the way he is with you, I thought it already done."

"Jules and I have a different sort of bond already," Halian said, putting his hand on Jules's head gently. "He has sacrificed a lot for me, and this manor, even to my servants. Everyone here loves him. My parents adore him as well."

"That's good to know," Charles said, sighing.

"My parents will be here in two days," Hal went on. "This is the wing they tend to inhabit. I think you should stay long enough to meet them, and be a.s.sured as to Jules's newer, higher position in life."

"I have nothing waiting on me at home," Charles said. "I would like to be meeting them, yes."

"Good."

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