In Deep

by Bailey Bradford

  That worry had not kept Riveen from insisting that Draven and Titus stay with him. For someone who usually came off as flighty, Riveen had a steel spine and a rigid determination that was…surprising.

  As if thinking of him had conjured him, Riveen stepped out of the hall and grinned as he nodded at Titus.

  Whatever that meant, Titus had no idea, but he smiled back.

  Riveen raised both eyebrows then whispered, “Cousins are here. Sleeping beauty is going to get a loud surprise if you don’t wake him up first.”

  “Cousins?” Titus was already gently shaking Draven’s shoulder despite how much he wished Draven could sleep. He had no doubt Riveen wasn’t exaggerating. Titus heard footsteps and voices from outside. “Hey, honey, Riveen said your cousins are here.”

  Draven sat up so fast that he almost clipped Titus’ chin. “Cousins?” He yawned, stretched, and his back popped a few times. “Cousins?” he repeated, blinking then scowling. “Rive, what did you do?”

  Riveen rolled his eyes. “You know what I did. Called in the reinforcements. Well. Called some of them in from spy duty. The paternal side are still out hunting for Joel. Mom’s side are here to help us with…anyone else.”

  Titus stood and held a hand out to Draven. Draven took it and got up as well.

  He cupped Titus’ cheek. “Sorry, but you’re about to get bombarded with my crazy cousins.”

  Titus was pretty sure Draven was fond of those cousins, too, judging by the sweet curve to his smile.

  Then Titus was gawping at the number of people entering the room. There had to be close to two dozen. “Holy crap,” he whispered. He’d never had a large extended family before and was a little intimidated. A lot of the men and women resembled Draven and Riveen to some degree, though none too much.

  And all of those cousins were looking at Titus, grinning or smirking, one or two leering comically.

  Titus gulped and raised one hand in a weak wave. “Um. Hi?”

  Those two words split open the conversation and everyone began talking almost at once.

  “Tried to warn you,” Draven said before he nodded to Riveen.

  Riveen stuck his fingers in his mouth and let loose an eardrum-splitting whistle.

  “This is Titus Eisenhower, my boyfriend,” Draven said when everyone went silent and half of them had flipped off Riveen. “And in case you haven’t been told, he knows about us.”

  A short dark-haired man stepped forward and canted a hip. “Oh yeah? So he knows we’re all amazing in bed?”

  Draven groaned and turned to Titus. “Sorry. They’re emotionally stuck at a mid-teenager level of development.”

  “Beg your pardon, cuz,” a blonde woman said. “I’m at least emotionally eighteen.”

  “Don’t get started,” Draven pleaded with his cousins.

  Riveen nodded. “Yeah. He just lost his home. Maybe now isn’t the time to be smartasses.”

  “He started it,” someone muttered.

  Riveen glared in the direction the voice had come from. “And I’m ending it. We need help, not harassment.”

  That seemed to get through to everyone, and soon most of the cousins were sitting on the floor or furniture, with a few remaining standing.

  “Tell us what’s happened.” The man who’d made the comment about being good—no, amazing—in bed, nodded at Titus. “I’m Dariel, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Titus responded.

  “We’ll do introductions later,” Riveen cut in when another person started to introduce themselves. “First, we need to be informed and come up with a plan to keep all of us safe, because if Andres has found a way to come back—”

  “What?” A cacophony of questions and denials erupted.

  Riveen held his fingers up and everyone stopped before he punished their eardrums again. “Anyone know if reincarnation is possible, or if there’re other supernatural beings capable of being ripped to pieces by sharks then, you know, not dying?”

  “Aunt Jusis might know,” Dariel replied, frowning. “I don’t know if she’s back from St. Croix yet.”

  “She’s supposed to be. Let me try to get a hold of her.”

  Titus didn’t even try to figure out who said that.

  “We saw him die,” Dariel continued. “He never smelled like a shifter, and anyway, what shifter could recover from that?”

  “A starfish shifter?”

  Dariel glared at the speaker. “Get serious. He wasn’t a shifter, and if he’s alive, or back, or whatever, then he was—is—something else. Are y’all sure it was Andres? Explain that.”

  As Titus listened, adding in his memory of the encounter when he needed to, he began to feel less intimidated and more comfortable. Despite the trauma of the past twenty-four hours, a small ember of optimism was glowing in him.

  There were so many people eager to help them, supporting them. It restored a piece of Titus’ lost faith in some of humanity he hadn’t even realized was missing.

  But he’d seen things as a teacher that had left his heart and hopes bruised, just as he’d lost a lot of innocence at the hands of Joel.

  Now, there was a small army gathered around, bantering and bouncing ideas off each other, and they all treated him like they did the rest of their family.

  Despite all the bad things that had happened, Draven was smiling beside him, his eyes lit up with joy as he spoke to Dariel.

  Then Draven looked at him, and that joy turned into something much stronger and enduring.

  Maybe it was crazy to find peace in a time and situation such as the one they were in now, but Titus did. He saw the future in Draven’s eyes, and Titus would fight for that, even if it meant taking on a supernatural being that might somehow be immortal, or close to it.

  And even if it meant taking on Joel face to face.

  Draven was worth it, and Titus was, too.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As he waited for Titus to get out of the bathroom, Draven thought over the past few hours they’d spent with some of his cousins. Aunt Jusis had promised to do some research—she apparently had books, actual books, written centuries ago that contained supernatural secrets.

  Draven had always thought Aunt Jusis was a little…spooky. As a kid, he’d had the feeling she could see right into his brain and know what he was thinking. Now, he suspected she was simply very knowledgeable and world-wise. He wanted to get to know her better, and Titus had said the same thing.

  Waiting for information, or another attack, made Draven twitchy as hell. He was still reeling from the loss of his home, but every time he got angry or upset, he reminded himself that the house was just a thing. The people he loved were safe, unharmed, and that was what was important. The house could be rebuilt.

  And maybe some supernatural beings could be rebuilt, too.

  Before he could be any more freaked out by that thought, the bathroom door swung open. Titus—as handsome as moonlight on the ocean, and just as calming to Draven’s soul—stood in the doorway. Draven’s thoughts scattered then quickly coalesced into the realization that he had much more urgent things to focus on just then. Titus, just by being himself, eased the pain of loss and the anxiety—and anger—that Draven had been struggling with.

  “Your family is”—Titus laughed as he walked over to the bed—“huge.”

  “Uh-huh.” Draven barely heard what Titus said. His pulse was a rushing sound in his head as he stared at Titus, who was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

  Titus had one thumb tucked under the center front of the towel, like he’d been running his hand down his belly when someone wrapped him up.

  As soon as he was within reach, Draven reached for him. Titus’ skin was warm and damp from water droplets he’d missed while drying off.

  Draven settled his hands on Titus’ hips and raked his gaze over Titus’ lean form, up to his penetrating eyes…then back to his frown.

  Draven rubbed his thumbs over Titus’ hip bones.

  “We c
an’t…” Titus began, his cheeks blooming with color.

  “We totally can,” Draven countered before leaning forward and scraping his cheek over Titus’ terrycloth-covered groin. “We so can.”

  Titus slid one palm to the back of Draven’s neck. He didn’t push Draven away, but held him in place. “We shouldn’t. We’re guests and—”

  Draven mouthed the tip of Titus’ cock through the towel. “We should,” he rumbled against it. He parted the towel and it fell to the floor…and Draven licked the length of Titus’ shaft.

  Titus shivered and pulled Draven closer. “Okay, we can do something, but we have to be quiet.”

  Draven gave him a sideways look. “I’m not the one going on.”

  Titus bumped his hips forward. “You could lie down and let me suck you, too.”

  As if he needed to suggest that twice! Draven scooted back and stretched out on the bed. Titus joined him, not flipping head to toes like Draven expected, but lying chest-to-chest with him before kissing Draven with a quiet ferocity that was all the more intense for it.

  Draven wrapped his arms around Titus and rolled him on top. He parted his legs so Titus could settle between them with ease. Their cocks were aligned almost perfectly. Draven bent his legs at the knee and thrust up while he ran his hands down Titus’ back to his plump ass. He grabbed both cheeks and began to knead in time to his thrusts, matching those with every flick of his tongue.

  Titus framed Draven’s face between his palms and nipped at Draven’s tongue.

  Draven bucked and held on to Titus harder, pushing and pulling his cheeks apart. He wanted to fuck Titus, but what they were doing felt too amazing to stop.

  No, he didn’t want to fuck Titus. He wanted to be close to him, closer than lovers could be.

  And he was, because the love he felt for Titus was equal to the love Titus had for him. It formed an ever-flowing circle between them, growing stronger with every passing day.

  That love made every touch more. No sex in Draven’s past could even come close to what he felt with Titus.

  Titus nibbled on his tongue and Draven dipped his fingers into Titus’ crease. He found the tight little hole nestled there and teased his fingertips over it as Titus rutted faster.

  Draven’s cock ached with the need for friction, but he wasn’t letting go of Titus’ ass. The sounds slipping from Titus’ mouth into his sent Draven’s need ratcheting higher. He wound his legs around Titus’, hooked his ankles over Titus’ calves and began thrusting up with more force.

  Titus turned his head aside and gasped. He shoved himself up onto his hands and used the change in position to rut harder.

  Draven had to let go of his ass and instead fisted Titus’ dick and his own.

  Pleasure curled, hot and bright, in his groin. Draven wanted to keep watching Titus, but as his climax built, his eyelids kept sliding closed.

  Titus grunted and a drop of sweat dripped from him onto Draven’s cheek.

  Draven tightened his grip on their cocks and thumbed the head of Titus’.

  A short moan escaped Titus before the sound was cut off. Titus thrust again, shoving his cock desperately in Draven’s hold. Draven twisted his hand around the glans, and Titus jerked all over as cum jetted over Draven’s skin and splattered against his stomach.

  Before Draven could do more than open his eyes, Titus was sliding down, tugging Draven’s hand off his own shaft, then swallowing half of Draven’s length in one quick move.

  Draven didn’t make it past a second thrust. He just managed to bury one hand in Titus’ hair before he came, his orgasm turning Draven inside out with waves of pleasure.

  When he stopped shaking and could breathe somewhat normally, Draven opened his eyes and turned to see Titus propped up beside him and scowling as he touched his head.

  Draven frowned then heated with embarrassment. “Oh shit! I didn’t even notice—”

  Titus’ scowl morphed into a grin. “Yeah. Do you know how hard dried cum is to get out of hair?”

  “Yeah, I do. Lost more than a few pubes that way, too.” Draven sat up. “Damn. Guess this means we need to shower. Together. That way I can make sure your hair gets de-spunked.”

  Titus snorted and wiped a spot of jizz over Draven’s left nipple. He winked at Draven, then licked the mess up.

  Heat spiraled out from Draven’s nipple, zinging straight down to his cock, which wasn’t up to round two yet.

  “Shower,” He rasped, because a naked, slippery Titus would certainly make Draven’s cock perk back up.

  But before they made it to the bathroom, Draven’s phone rang.

  Titus was closer to it. He plucked Draven’s cell phone off the dresser. Seeing Deputy Martinez’s name for the caller ID sent adrenalin rushing through his veins. He answered the phone with a clipped, “Hello,” which was the best he could do when he knew bad news was coming. There’d be no other reason for Martinez to call.

  “This is Deputy Martinez. Is this—?”

  “Titus.”

  “Titus,” Deputy Martinez repeated.

  Draven cupped Titus’ cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.

  Titus hoped Draven was right.

  “I’m going to put you on speaker so Draven can hear this,” Titus said.

  “I wanted to let you know that I don’t think Joel started the fire at Mr. Costille’s residence. Joel was arrested last night in Michigan for assaulting another man, someone he’d apparently hooked up with. From what the detective I spoke with said, Joel’s been in Michigan for several days.”

  “How many days?” Draven asked. “Was he ever in Texas?”

  “Yes, from what I’ve been able to trace, he was, but…” Deputy Martinez sighed. “I’m trying to get flight records, but Detective Adams—in Michigan—said he thinks Joel’s parents are covering his tracks. They aren’t cooperating and have a lawyer snarling at Detective Adams any time he tries to gather evidence.”

  “Their boy can do no wrong,” Titus mumbled, backing toward the bed.

  “They’re not doing him any favors,” Martinez said. “There’s something else. It might upset you more.”

  “Shit.” Titus was glad Draven was there, guiding him down to sit on the bed.

  “What is it?” Draven asked, taking a seat beside him.

  Martinez sighed. “The guy he assaulted, he looks similar to you, Titus. Detective Adams emailed me a photo of him. There’s a clear resemblance. Adams said the victim told him Joel called him by your name.”

  Titus felt ill. He pressed a hand against his queasy stomach. “But he isn’t here. In Texas. He wasn’t here yesterday.”

  “Not for the past few days,” Martinez said. “I’m working on finding out just how long he’s been out of the state, but I just learned that he was in Michigan about an hour ago. I’ve been on the phone and emailing back and forth with Detective Adams. He also thinks Joel’s parents will bail him out.”

  “They will if they can.” Titus knew that much. “He’s violating his parole, though, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but if the victim backs out…” Martinez trailed off.

  Titus rubbed his eyes, hoping to push back tears he didn’t want to shed. “That could happen. Joel’s parents offered me money not to prosecute him.”

  “Did you turn them in to the police for that?” Martinez asked.

  “No. I didn’t have any proof, and they had their lawyer in the room when they did it. My word would have been useless against the three of them,” Titus said. “And in the end, I don’t think it would have made a difference. A lot of people saw Joel. His parents wanted me to say it was a one-time thing, and I wouldn’t.”

  “He didn’t get a long enough sentence.” Draven glared at the phone like it had personally failed in that task.

  “We do the best we can, then the sentencing is out of our hands,” Martinez replied. “I just wanted to let y’all know about this since it means someone else had to start the fire. Unless he paid someone to do it.”
<
br />   “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Titus admitted. “And getting arrested…that seems an extreme way to prove he wasn’t here, but Joel isn’t reasonable.”

  “Is there anyone else who’d have set the fire?” Martinez cursed. “Shit. I guess that’s not information I need, unless it ties in to what happened here. I’m still waiting on prints—if it turns out that Joel’s aren’t among them, that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it. He could have worn gloves. But is there a chance it could have been someone else?”

  Titus and Draven exchanged glances. “No one I can think of,” Titus answered, because even if Andres was magically—supernaturally—alive, would he have known about Titus then? And how would Titus explain Andres to Deputy Martinez? He couldn’t.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Martinez was saying. “It could be two different people harassing y’all, or it could be one person. Could be someone we haven’t looked into or that you don’t even know, Titus. People can be hateful and justify it to themselves in ways no rational being ever would.”

  Titus agreed and after a few more minutes, Deputy Martinez ended the call. Titus set the phone on the nightstand and slumped over, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “I don’t understand. I thought Joel was here.”

  Draven slid a hand up and down his back. “We don’t know that he didn’t have a hand in what happened.”

  “We don’t know…” Titus sat up and leaned against Draven. “We don’t know anything, yet I’m sure Joel broke into and vandalized my house. I’d been terrified I led him here, but now, knowing it wasn’t him…I’m more terrified. If it wasn’t him—but he could have hired someone, but the guy, the one who looked like Andres, would he do that? Why would he? How? What’s—?”

  Titus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then he did it again.

  If he didn’t stop, he was going to think himself into a panic attack.

  Draven pulled him close and held him, and, though no words were spoken, listening to Draven’s heartbeat calmed Titus down.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Draven’s nape itched with that feeling he got when he was being watched. He and Titus were being watched—Draven’s cousins were discreetly following them on land, and some were in the ocean, close to the shore. Riveen had mentioned some friends of the family—friends who were aviary shifters—keeping an eye on them from the air and trees, or wherever the birds might be.