by Arden, Susan
“I agree. There are some things I now realize. It wouldn’t be fair to continue without clearing the air. Last night helped. I think.” Tristen’s brows knitted. A sort of vulnerability came and went across his features, then he released Fin to press his fingers against his forehead as though he was struggling.
Fin’s knees actually weakened. Never in his life had he thought he was about to hit the deck. Until that moment. Tristen was going to tell him that he’d had enough of this shit. Fuck. How long did someone like Tris take to make decisions? Not long. Snap decisions were his style. Was Santo one such decision?
Oh no. Hell, he’d kill the bastard. The breath in his lungs came up in serrated puffs. “How about this Friday? Over dinner? A sort of end-of-the-week let-loose.”
“Great. Another dinner. Sure. But, I want to talk you, seriously. The sooner the better.” Tristen lowered his gaze.
“What, that’s not convenient?” Fin’s stomach burned, his intestines knotting, wondering what Tristen wanted to discuss. Shit, it better not have to do with inviting Santo back again. Or a different set of living arrangements altogether.
Tristen’s full mouth lifted at the corners. Seductive and thoughtful. “No, I was just thinking. Friday is fine. Consider it a date.”
Pain reverberated within his body, and his fingers trembled. This was torture. Was he alone in being in love? Fin turned and walked down the hall. He was surprised when Tristen followed, so close his body heat resembled a shadow that Fin wanted to wrap himself in. He struggled to free the words squatting on the tip of his tongue.
Chapter Seven
Fin pulled away, breaking their contact. His whole demeanor had changed this morning in the light of a new day. His usual aloofness was coupled with a new reserve. They walked to the bathroom without a word.
Inside the bathroom, Tristen squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush, watching Fin in the mirror. “I’ll help clean up the mess out in the bedroom tonight. Did you enjoy last night?” He began to brush his teeth, waiting patiently.
Fin just slammed the third cabinet door. Tristen clenched his jaw, gazing at Fin’s naked body in the mirror. There were several bite marks on his shoulder and neck. His desire for Fin was near out-of-control.
They’d never talked about wolf bonding, the mating done during the full moon, so deep and complete they’d be linked as a pair until time ran out. There was no divorce for wolf bonding. Once mated, their DNA would effectively be changed. Tristen had never been ready. Before. He sighed, trying to ease the churning in his chest. Fin was his. Friend, lover, soul mate. He’d never let him go.
“Some parts. Yes.” Fin’s eyes were guarded. Perhaps it was only imagination, but anguish permeated his tone.
“I think we’ve found a way to give you some of that kink you’ve been craving.”
“Well, I can tell you were certainly turned on. So it wasn’t the worst idea bringing Santo here.”
“I think he helped clarify things. Wouldn’t you agree?” That was an understatement. He was now hungry to bond with Fin.
Fin simply nodded before getting into the shower. Tristen gripped the counter, clamping his jaws together. Hunger. That’s what this feeling was that stabbed him with anticipation and worry. For a second, he considered the need to find a jeweler, one who was capable of making the ring he’d give to Fin. After last night, he might appreciate fucking another body, but the act was never the same. With Fin, it was the closest thing to how people described melding with another.
The full moon was weeks off, and preparations would have to be made. A wedding of sorts. He couldn’t imagine Fin wanting a black-tie affair. Crap, if he’d ask him, maybe he could find out. Shit, he needed to set up a time and place to propose.
With this off-the-charts yearning, he might take and not ask Fin. The mating link would be up to him as the top shifter of the pair. One bite, channeling his being into Fin’s body, filling him with his sperm, and the bond would be complete. His wolf nature wasn’t the type to seek approval. If he mounted Fin during the full moon in this condition, fully convinced Fin was his mate, he’d bond with him on one level. Yet he’d forever severe their bond of trust. He’d effectively steal the one thing Fin had to give. That was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Borderline dangerous. No, he had to act swiftly. Otherwise, he’d have to take his leave and put distance between them during full moons. That he could do, if Fin refused him.
Tristen rubbed his forehead, frustrated he’d let their relationship devolve into mere looks and glances that didn’t convey what either of them felt. Regardless of how close they were, they’d never actually talked of love. Fine time to consider bonding, not even knowing if Fin was in love with him. Fucking typical of his life. Act…think…damage control. Not this time.
Then he stopped as though a meteorite had blasted his chest. What if Fin wasn’t in love with him? He ran his fingers along the side of head.
His observed Fin bathing inside the shower with the glass becoming more and more foggy as clouds of steam rose.. He guessed they could stay together with the status quo in place. Fin wasn’t the type of wolf who’d run off or make rash decisions. Thank the fuck. Santo had tried to give Fin what he wanted and it was Fin who’d declined. Tristen shook his head. Yet, this morning Fin was definitely sulking. And with no mind reader on the premises, Tristen could only guess.
He could only surmise this shift in mood had something to do with Santo. His pride could be affronted. Fin had had the chance of kink, and refused. Another unsolved mystery.
With him, it was the complete opposite. Santo pushed his wolf sexual buttons. Total physical outlet of testosterone. One he’d never explored except in the past with multiple women where he had been the one doing the fucking. That vampire was a drug that any jackass would keep consuming until it was too late. Tristen wasn’t foolish. One night, yeah, anything could be fun. Do it again, and that was playing with fire. He, for one, had no intention of acquiring a taste for icy-hot vampire sex when Fin was backpedaling.
He couldn’t complain. Going forward, he was more than willing to explore dominating Fin in ways that included discipline. Blood began filling his cock as he contemplated another round of flogging Fin but good. Tristen flexed his muscles and a wave of unexpected pleasure rolled over him. Oh yeah, he was all for kink if this was what Fin enjoyed. Remembering his partner’s ass displayed, whipped, and then taken fiercely got a rise out of him inside his pants.
So far, he’d been able to curb his need to take things further. He didn’t want to hurt Fin again, but this vampire had unlocked something in himself last night. Standing here, thinking about fucking Fin while Santo fucked him, had him dizzy. His grip on the counter tightened. The steam from the shower made his collar bind his neck. His dick throbbed, but he wasn’t going to let his gonads make him late.
He clenched his jaw, willing the hard lead pipe in his pants to settle down. Wiping his hair back under his palms, he left the bathroom. Santo came down the hall, wearing a shirt and no pants, his dick peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. Fuck, was there no place to go that didn’t involve a naked man with a hard-on?
“I’ll be in the kitchen, when you’re ready.” Tristen picked up his keys off the dresser and shoved them in his pocket.
“Everyone on edge in the morning around here?”
“We’re just short on time.” Fuck, if Fin and he were alone, he’d pull Fin out of the shower and do what he couldn’t say. Santo was perceptive.
“We’re meeting with Shawn?”
“Yep. Nine-thirty. Sharp.” Tristen rode the razor-edge of a deep hunger to claim Fin. “Look. Maybe you’ve hit the nail on the head. From what you saw last night, any advice on Fin?” Tristen toyed with the idea of pulling his zipper down and jerking off. He couldn’t take another day like yesterday—pins-and-needles—and his concentration was shot before leaving home.
“I don’t think Fin would appreciate my coming back. He’s very possessive. Your enjoyment of the experience did
n’t sit well with him.”
“What are you talking about? He invited you here to get roughly fucked. I only enjoyed myself.”
“He was looking for something he already possessed. What he was looking for was confirmation. Then you reveled in the experience. He’s still processing that portion. Do you know how much he worries about you? That you’re headed for a breakdown?”
Tristen held up his hand. “Don’t go there. I’m fine. Fin understands me in a group of veterans talking about water under the bridge, isn’t going to happen. And last night, you and I both know, wasn’t anything more than physical. I get you, Santo. That mouth of yours is magical, but it could be addictive. Not alone, but with him. You’re the frosting on the cake.”
“Frosting?” It was Fin’s voice, pinched, coming from behind him.
He swung around to face Fin. The tent in his trousers immediate caught his lover’s glance. The hurt ran deep in Fin’s eyes and fuck if Tristen’s heart didn’t feel as though it were ripping a hole through his chest. Thank God he’d not taken out his dick.
“We were just discussing our relative positions insofar as what occurred last night.” That was utterly ridiculous; Tristen knew he should go to Fin, but he was frozen to the spot, unwilling to cause more damage.
“It looks as though you’re up to something. Unless your dick has learned to speak. Is this a new form of communication? What are you after, Tristen? His mouth, or are you just going to pretend you’re not about to come all over your shoes.”
“Hell, I just wanted a little relief. I’m not hiding. I’m keyed up after being in the bathroom with you naked. What changed from last night to this morning? And out of curiosity, what if you’d walked out here and Santo was sucking my dick. Do you care? Sulking and silence don’t give me a lot to go on. This was your idea. Not to mention what we did to him, and in-between, why would this be a problem now? I mean this is only a hard-on, the way you leave me when we’re together.”
“Because it just is, Tristen. I was in there. Not out here. If you wanted me, strange to find you in a room with a man who can suck dick like a master. You’re hard, he’s hard, and what? I’m intruding. Christ, it was one night, not what I envisioned for today or next week. I guess that’s not how you see it? Don’t answer me. I can see which head you’re thinking with. Damn you to hell.” He stormed past Tristen, ignoring Santo, picked up his clothing, and left the room.
The pain written all over Fin’s face didn’t require a mind reader to figure out. He was jealous, and the switch in him left Tristen unsure whether he should go after him or let him be until he was ready to talk. Maybe this would be a turning point and a place that, once they’d both calmed down, they could discuss. Definitely, Fin needed to settle down. He could count on one hand the times Fin had blown up, never mind storming out of a room and slamming a door on the other side of the house.
His dick went limp. Another first. He mumbled something incoherent to Santo about it being time to go, and walked down the hall before stopping in the living room. He listened to more slamming and stomping. Tris clenched his jaw, unable to form the words that would smooth this over.
Something crashed against a wall.
“Fuck.” Right now, Fin was moving around the guestroom, teeming with fury. His instinct was to go find Fin and slam him up against a wall, and tell him to stop. He held back, foreseeing the explosive problem of two angry shifters in a small room and him with an appointment. Time had him by the balls.
Santo came into the living room fully dressed. He took up most of the filtered air coming in through the eastern windows. The man’s skin in the daylight glowed with an opalescent sheen. His eyes were shadowed, the gauntness of his face pronounced, and his lips were pale in lieu of blood-red.
“You look like shit,” Tristen announced matter-of-factly.
“I’m hungry. I haven’t fed since yesterday.”
Hardly able to ponder much or string words into a lucid thought, Tristen removed his keys from his pocket. “A toasted bagel isn’t going to do it for you?”
“No. In Sherry’s guest house, I’ve several pints in the refrigerator. Can you swing by?”
Tristen lifted his case from the wall next to the front door. He glanced across the room toward the hall where muffled noise still arose.
“Roger that. We’d better get a move on, then. I’m pushing getting there on time as it is.” He ran his fingers through his still damp hair, deciding that any contact with Fin would ignite his partner. Without the right words, standing and staring weren’t a good defense. Fin’s disposition continued to unravel.
The walls of Tristen’s life were coming down all around him. Without Fin’s solid exterior, his own interior became a vortex spinning faster and faster out of control.
“Sherry’s place is not far from downtown.”
He didn’t do much other than lift his chin toward Santo when the vampire’s gaze stilled him. Tristen watched as the man levitated merely inches off the floor and then glided across the room. “That some fucking parlor trick?”
“It takes less energy than walking. I must conserve what I’ve got until I obtain nourishment.”
“You remind me of a diabetic who pushes boundaries. Clearly, you knew this would happen. Didn’t you?”
“I know my limits. I didn’t expect an emotional meltdown. They tend to drain me if I’m somehow involved. I may be cold-blooded. I’m not coldhearted. These issues stress me out, too. I like you both and have caused this strife.”
“Hell, no. This has been a long time coming.” He opened the door, frowning at Santo. “You know what they say about storms. Nature’s way of clearing the air. Fin and I have things to work out.” No shit, Sherlock.
He walked down the steps. Instead of taking the sports car, he opted for the roomier SUV parked beside the house. He didn’t need to sit in a cramped space with a man who’d gone from fuck buddy to hands-off status. On the drive, he’d sort through the mess his life had spiraled into this morning.
“Here, take this and program Sherry’s address.” He dropped the GPS into Santo’s outstretched palm as they drove down the mountain. In minutes, they hit the highway.
Maneuvering in the morning traffic, he switched lanes to keep his mind engaged, and the vampire next to him gripped the console dividing them.
“Santo, this morning we’ll meet with Shawn, but I don’t think he’ll have any real problems with you stepping in, as long as you’ve been above board. I texted our security department your info and by now, he’ll have had you investigated, so if there’s anything to divulge, now’s the moment.”
The man smiled, Cheshire-like. “Not a thing. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“I hope that’s not absolutely true, considering your references.”
“I think I’ve already established my lips are…tight.” Santo articulated every sound of the last word. Yet his expression didn’t reflect seduction or the attempt to tease. The vampire’s face reminded Tristen of humans subjected to Botox injections. His intense eyes were neither black nor red, but contained an obsidian sheen that drew him in. Santo’s smooth, unlined skin appeared like rubber pulled tight in the daylight glare. Neither attractive nor unattractive. Disconcerting and perplexing. When the vampire wasn’t in the mood to toy, it was easy to observe him objectively without some cat-and-mouse counterpart going down.
“What type of transportation do you have?”
Santo didn’t miss a beat. “Currently, a motorcycle. Do you know anything about vintage cycles?”
“Hit me. I peg you as a Czechoslovakian…CZ.”
Santo snorted. “Not exactly. 1952 Vincent Series C Black Lightning. I restore them. Previously I had a 1953 Black Shadow. This one is a much lighter, much faster ride.”
“Shawn will be impressed by your knowledge, but you’ll need something in case you have to transport him on the fly.” He laughed, feeling lighter since he’d left the house. “I don’t think a sidecar is optional.”
“I
can get a car without any problem. This is merely a hobby.”
“I’m sure we can wrangle something from Shawn’s entourage of automobiles. He prefers we drive something that is routinely maintained by the company. I don’t blame him. I’m not like you. I know zero about automobile mechanics.”
“And Fin? Doesn’t he routinely take apart engines?” Santo stared out the windshield.
“Yes, on occasion. The ones he drives and owns. Not the other cars from the business.” Tristen answered more acerbically than he’d intended.
“The exit is coming on. Turn left.”
“You don’t use a GPS much, do you?”
“Right. You’ve got the directions right in front of you. Not really on a motorcycle.”
Tristen pulled into the circular driveway intersecting a large parcel of land. Private from the looks of things. The house sat almost a block back from the road on a bluff overlooking a valley crisscrossed by a large creek and pond. “Sherry has horses. Where does she find the time to deal with them? Does she actually ride?”
“Yes. She’s been riding since she was old enough to walk.”
He stared at Santo, unable to understand. “But don’t horses shy away from….”
“Not her. She’s very different. We share a thin blood tie on her mother’s side. I myself don’t bother with the beasts. They’re more a burden than a pleasure in my world.”
“Those are beautiful though.” Tristen pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll wait here. I’ve calls to make.”
“I’ll be right back.” Santo got out and glided up the walkway, hovering above the stone path. Sherry opened the door, kissing Santo on each cheek. They began speaking and whatever was said had Sherry’s brows drawn together.. She lifted her glance toward Tristen’s car, waving before she stepped back inside. She was one of the few women, aside from some female shifters, who he trusted. She kept her personal life buried and private. That, he respected.
