by Willa Okati
Jesse nodded stiffly, and waited for Cade to back away before he approached the workstation. Arm’s reach of—anyone—would have been too close for comfort, and wasn’t that a marvel? Jesse thought, dark in his humor. The nagging headache that’d lifted while he loitered in the clock tower with Daniel threatened to make a return appearance even though the storm had passed.
Nothing helped the headaches. Not even the strongest medication doctors had been willing to prescribe. Jesse had long since stopped bothering. Five minutes with Daniel, and away went the pounding pain like a wisp of cloud on the north wind.
What a fool he’d been not to notice.
At least one good thing had come of this, he thought, taking up the job where Cade had left off. He’d know right away if Daniel came back. Which he would. Just a matter of time…
* * * *
And what now?
Grass crumpled and sodden earth squelched beneath Daniel’s step. When he looked up he saw the skies had cleared, dark clouds sweeping back away from indigo heavens studded with stars, and the air smelled cleaner than before. Crisper. Cooler, too. The chill left behind bit at Daniel’s bared forearms.
He rolled the sleeves down one at a time, then took off his glasses and hung them from his collar by one earpiece.
What now?
Ask himself though he might, Daniel couldn’t come up with an answer. He clumped forward one step at a time, making for a park bench not too far away. It’d be wet, but he hadn’t been able to bear staying in the clock tower another minute, smelling of sex and dashed hopes as it did.
Well, what had he expected? Daniel lowered himself to the bench—slick with cold water, just as he’d figured—and put his head in his hands. Seen up close, the soulmark reminded him afresh of hieroglyphs and tattoos. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen one quite so dark or bold as theirs. When he touched his nose to the soulmark, he could feel the raised nature of the lines almost like a brand, or a burn scar, and he could smell the faint fragrance of hops and clean male skin Jesse had left behind. He could almost smell the sea and the coffee in that diner where they’d met when they were both young and stupid.
Not as young anymore. Maybe twice as stupid. Daniel rubbed his wrist. Hieroglyphs. Great. So where was their Rosetta Stone?
A dog barked in Daniel’s ear.
“Jesus!” Daniel dropped his hands in his surprise. The dog—no, Dog —jumped onto the bench beside Daniel and battered him with the fringed and mud-sodden whip of his tail. He nosed at Daniel’s new soulmark as if he were trying to burrow under the skin for a better look. “Where did you come from?”
Not from Jesse, that much was certain. Daniel looked around just in case, but no.
Daniel took Dog by the collar and held him back. “Ran away, didn’t you?”
Dog didn’t seem inclined to answer.
“Not smart.” Daniel took a better hold on Dog’s collar just in case Dog meant to run off again. “What were you thinking? Jesse’s going to flip out if he realizes you’ve gone missing.”
Dog cocked his head at Daniel then sat, his form behavior-training perfect. He whined quietly, but nothing more.
Daniel scratched under Dog’s chin. Dog looked slightly askance at him, but allowed the touch then poked his nose under Daniel’s wrist and licked. “At least you like it,” Daniel murmured. He exhaled as he stood, letting one sort of tension drain away to make room for the next. A snap of the fingers brought Dog off the bench and to him, where he looked up in quizzical patience. “Heel.”
Dog didn’t seem to know what that one meant. He did follow, though, when Daniel gestured him into a walk. Jesse would lose his mind if he knew Dog had gone AWOL. The last thing Daniel needed was the struggle to explain he hadn’t kidnapped Dog on purpose.
Back to the tavern, then.
Not what he’d meant to do next, but Daniel wondered if maybe it was long past time he learned to temper his expectations.
For all his rambunctious ways, it would seem Dog could behave when it suited him. Aside from a few wet nose-bumps to the knee when Daniel moved too slowly for his liking, the old hound trotted beside him as meekly as a lamb. Every so often, Daniel rested his palm on the sturdy dog. Even if Jesse couldn’t use his senses properly to feel the animal’s warmth, he wasn’t surprised at Jesse’s habit of making Dog his touchstone. There was something to the sturdy patience of the canine that steadied Daniel’s frayed nerves.
Enough so that, instead of heading around back to the staff door as he’d planned, Daniel made for the Hart and Hound’s main entrance instead.
Inside, the sheer warmth of the place and a hundred different scents crashed over Daniel in a tidal wave. Like stepping into a sauna with fir and balsam and the ghost of coconut sunscreen, the Hart and Hound had that same dull heaviness of atmosphere, redolent here with beer and burgers and leather. Daniel stopped as the doors shut behind him and almost swayed on his feet.
Dog crowded beside him. Just in case, he guessed.
Not many people remained in the tavern. Curse of the weeknights, that’d be, at least in a little village like this. The last ones left behind were the serious-business drinkers who cocked a glance at Daniel, then ignored him.
Well. Them and the bartender, his erstwhile waiter wearing a new apron and a clean shirt. A tall man with dark hair and a wicked glint in his eye that turned guilty as seven shades of hell when he lit upon Daniel and Dog. “Oh, fuck me.”
“No thanks,” Daniel said. He clicked his tongue to Dog, who padded forward. The tavern was quiet enough to hear the click-click-click of his nails on the flagstones. He sat by one of the stools bellied up to the bar and sneezed. “That his usual spot?”
“I have no idea. Have a seat, though, if you want.” The bartender lowered his voice. “I thought he’d gone back to—back to the storeroom. Fuck, do I owe you. Beer’s on the house.”
“I know he’s Jesse’s dog,” Daniel said.
The bartender didn’t bat an eye. “Then you know exactly how much trouble I’d be in if Jesse knew I’d let his buddy pull a Steve McQueen and break from Alcatraz while he had his back turned.”
“He is here, then?”
Not even a flicker of an eyelash from the bartender. “I didn’t say that. What’s your choice?”
“You don’t have to say anything.” Exhaustion, both mind and body, made Daniel feel slow and stupid. A beer couldn’t help, but it might not hurt. Who knew? He lifted himself onto the high stool and crossed his arms loosely on the bar top. “Whatever you’ve got that’s too dark to see through.”
“That, I can tell you we have here,” the bartender replied. “I’m Cade, by the way.”
Daniel nodded. He scratched at a dry slash of mud on his cheek, studying the man. He seemed oddly familiar now that Daniel took a decent look at him, but not in any significant manner. He doubted he’d have forgotten a cheeky face like that one. “So you can’t tell me Jesse’s here. Even if I know.”
“Not a word.”
Which might have been confirmation. Then again, it might not have been. Daniel watched Cade pull a draft of Guinness with a thick, creamy head, and caught the tall glass when Cade pushed it toward him with a little too much spin. “Careful.”
“So you say,” Cade replied. “Might want to practice what you preach.”
Dull heat burned in Daniel’s cheeks when he glanced down to see he’d caught the glass with the wrist that bore his soulmark. “You did that on purpose.”
“Sure did.”
Daniel’s mouth opened and closed. “Why?”
“Purely to satisfy my own curiosity.”
“Try again.”
“That’s true enough, as far as it goes. I’m nosy as hell. Ask anyone.”
Daniel pushed the Guinness away and turned his wrist facing up, soulmark bared. “Take a better look, if you want.”
“I’m good, thanks. I’ve got the pooch’s leash back here. Want to leave him and try your luck tomorrow?”
“Not really,
no,” Daniel said. He pushed the beer back at Cade. “Sorry to waste it.”
“You’re better off, you know.”
Daniel looked up more sharply. “Say that again?”
“I said, you’re better off.” Cade sipped at the discarded Guinness. “What? You don’t want it, and I’m not going to waste it. And you’re better off without him, soulmate or not. For that matter, he’s better off without you.”
The nature of the building heat in Daniel’s face changed from shame to something much, much fiercer. “You know nothing about him. Or me. Keep your opinions to yourself.”
“Mmm…no. Don’t think I will.” Cade grinned, bold and brazen. “Trust me. I’ve seen some matches made in hell before. My best guess? That’d be one of them. He’s broken, and you don’t look like a Mr Fix-It to me.”
“Maybe not.” Daniel’s ears prickled. He wanted to bare his teeth. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to quit now.”
“Aren’t you?” Cade tipped the beer back and gave himself a foam mustache. “If you don’t agree, feel free to prove me wrong. Be my guest.”
“You…” Daniel narrowed his eyes. “You’re not subtle.”
Cade laughed. “Nope, not even a little. I am, however, well-experienced when it comes to dealing with stubborn asses. I have an older brother, and the stories I could tell you…” He whistled and jerked a thumb at the galley hatch that led back to the kitchen.
Jesse stood in frame, watching Daniel. Motionless, with no way to tell how long he’d been there.
Daniel tipped his head to one side, suggesting the front door.
Jesse responded with a frown, and a gesture toward the back of the kitchen.
“Would you look at that? More glasses to clean,” Cade said, deliberately—or so Daniel thought—turning his back on them. “Swear to God, there must be something in the water lately,” he muttered as if to himself.
Daniel would have asked what he meant, but Jesse had disappeared from the window, and he had more important things to do.
Where Jesse went, Daniel would follow. He couldn’t help it. He was who he was.
And so was Jesse…
* * * *
Jesse knelt on the cold flagstones—so cold, bone-achingly cold—and pressed his face to the warm, rough-soft fur he usually scruffed in more playful moments with Dog. Dog, unashamed of having scared him half to death, wagged his tail and wriggled around, trying to lick Jesse’s hand.
He heard Daniel’s footstep on the stones, and knew who it was. He always would know, now.
“I knew you wouldn’t listen,” he said before Daniel could speak. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? What you’re not supposed to.”
“You did too, once upon a time. I never bought that whole ‘I went to a Finder on a whim’ thing, you know.” Daniel came closer. Careful to keep his distance, but not holding back altogether. “They cost enough that no one does that on impulse. You wanted to find someone to love.” He went silent. “Am I that much of a disappointment?”
The naked hurt in his voice made Jesse look up in surprise. Jesse put one arm around Dog. “You think that’s…”
“What else am I supposed to think?” Daniel’s color had gone high and hot, and anger made his eyes look almost blue. Soft dark hair fell around his face, begging for a touch. “Well? Go on. Tell me.”
Jesse’s tongue had gone heavy and numb. He shook his head, helpless, and knew he shouldn’t have done so. The ache in his temples receded somewhat with Daniel so near, but it hadn’t disappeared, and moving so quickly made his stomach flip.
But that’s not why, Daniel. That’s not it at all. It never had been—
But maybe if he thought so, then…
But he wasn’t paying attention. “Do you know why I came here in the first place?” Daniel asked.
Jesse still couldn’t speak. His wrist itched with a sudden near-fury that made him bite his cheek.
“Because I wanted closure,” Daniel said with a snap. “I just wanted to know why. That’s it. That’s all. To find out why you didn’t even want me to know you were alive. That’s it. That’s all. The end. And then I’d go back to living like a widower.”
Jesse’s lips unlocked at that. “What?”
“Is it that surprising?” Daniel kept a measured distance between them. “I told you I’d be faithful to you, and I was. Were you?”
Shame made Jesse’s stomach tighten into a harder knot. “I didn’t know.”
“And then I came here. And I looked at you, and God help me, I wanted you.” Daniel rubbed his mouth. “Did you ever think about me, Jesse? Even once?”
Jesse would have sworn he felt something snap in his head, the fine thinness of a blood vessel going pop. “Don’t want you?” He stood, pushing himself to his feet by using the wall for leverage. “Don’t want you? Are you joking?” His head throbbed. “I want you in ways you can’t imagine and believe me or don’t but I always have. Always. I want to strip you naked and spread your legs and make you come with my mouth. I used to dream about it.”
Daniel had fallen silent. He looked stunned.
“Don’t talk to me about want,” Jesse said. “The things I want to do to you—”
“Then why?” Daniel came closer. Too close. Jesse could have shut his eyes and felt the outline of Daniel’s aura in total blackness. “That’s all I want to know. Tell me that, and I’ll go. I swear it. Just. Why?”
“Because—” Jesse clamped his mouth shut. “You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have come. It isn’t time yet. I wanted—I—”
The crash seemed to come from nowhere, violent and all-consuming, breaking the air into sharp splinters. Daniel jumped half out of his skin, but even now, even now he put himself between Jesse and the danger.
It’s just breaking glass, Jesse’s mind told him, but only a very small part of it. Or a breaking mirror. That’s all.
Even so. Memories rose up in red-hot protest, and—
The world went dark.
Chapter Four
Jesse woke cocooned in warmth.
He lay on his side, half-buried in the soft give of mattress below and blanket above, warmer at his front than his back. The quiet sounds of deep-sleep breathing brushed at his ears, matched to the rise and fall of a man’s chest beneath his hand. Jesse shifted, moving his head on the pillow that seemed softer and fatter than he remembered, and bumped against the head of the man who slept curled up against him. He’d draped one arm over the man’s chest, and their feet had tangled together while they slept.
Jostling his head should have hurt more than it did. Jesse freed his arm from the blankets and reached to prod at the tousled hair and sleep-warm skin and the skull beneath them. No pain. Quiet warmth instead. Soothing silence.
Jesse bent his head forward, more careful this time, and touched the tip of his nose to the man’s ear. Small ear. Soft, dark hair.
“Tickles,” the man said.
No, not ‘the man’. Daniel. Jesse let go of the tension in his shoulders. Of course. Daniel.
He stirred, tucking his chin down. “Jesse?”
“Shh. Go back to sleep.” Jesse nestled his head on the pillow, forehead to crown with Daniel. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Awake now,” Daniel murmured. He started to stir, and no, that wouldn’t do.
Jesse pressed down harder with the arm that covered him. He could feel the pulse more strongly in the wrist that bore his soulmark, and stronger still when he found Daniel’s hand and wrapped his own around it.
Daniel stilled. “Jesse? What are you—?”
Jesse nudged him in the side. “Lie down. Don’t want to get up yet.” He smoothed his palm across Daniel’s hand when it splayed wide over Daniel’s stomach. “Better.” The soft skin at Daniel’s nape smelled of shampoo and rain, and tasted of salt when he brushed his lips across it.
He heard Daniel sigh, a long and shuddering sound. Sweet Daniel. Pretty Daniel. Jesse nuzzled deeper and moved lower, tracing the sinews of Dan
iel’s neck and shoulder with his parted lips. He had two tastes. One of salt and man, one of comfort and peace. Four tastes, then.
Jesse wanted more.
The slow-kindling burn of arousal ached heavy in his groin. Had he woken that way? He couldn’t remember his dreams. He didn’t think he’d had any in the midst of the calm darkness. Daniel fitted in his arms as if they’d been made to lie like this, with Daniel’s back against his front, shoulders to chest, hips to hips. Jesse moved his leg forward and hooked Daniel’s ankle, pulling them closer together.
Daniel’s breath broke on a startled inhale. He could hear the quiet susurrus of Daniel touching his tongue to his lips.
Good. But not good enough. Jesse wanted more. He spread his fingers as wide as they would go and laid them flat on Daniel’s stomach. Slowly, slowly, he skimmed his palm down over the nub of a navel and a line of crisp hair that arrowed to the thicker thatch below. Daniel jolted up when Jesse wrapped that hand around the straining fullness of his cock.
Jesse chuckled against Daniel’s nape. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Jesse…” Daniel tried to pull away with his torso, but his hips pushed back against Jesse and forward into Jesse’s hand. Tension rippled and flashed in his muscles. “Are you dreaming?”
“No.” Jesse tested the edge of his teeth against Daniel’s neck. Not a bite. Just a light scrape. Or…now that Daniel mentioned it… “Maybe.” He moved so that he had his knee locked over Daniel’s, not just his ankle. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter.” With one thumb, he swiped away the sticky-thick slickness pearling up and spread it down the length of Daniel’s cock, and laughed again when Daniel’s quiet breath went ragged. “My head doesn’t hurt.”
“No. I guess it wouldn’t.” Daniel took Jesse’s hand and pressed their wrists together. “Where do you think you are, Jesse?”
