by Susan Laine
Rubbing Kieran’s hand in slow, soft, soothing circles, Gabe spoke hoarsely, but his tone was almost sedate. “Every contact between mates is supposed to feel good. Skin on skin especially. Typically, arousal is a wonderful climb to release. Mating is an exquisite fever of the blood.” Gabe watched Kieran’s profile: hard lines and sharp angles, dark crew cut and slight shadow on his jaw, blue eyes with slivers of gray as wide as his thin lips. He was panting and his body was taut, and the heavy outline of the bulge in his crotch gave away his arousal as clearly as his scent did. “Now do you see why I cannot, and will not, allow you to die? This connection between us, this bond, this mating, is for life. It is the most powerful force in the universe, the other half of our heart, mind, body, and soul. I could not live without it, and neither could you—now that you have felt it. I could not survive knowing I had caused your death.” Gabe stopped the motions of his hand. “So, Kieran, we are going to find another solution. Do you understand me?”
Like it was on fire, Kieran yanked his hand from Gabe’s arm, but he managed a hint of a nod. “Yeah.”
As much as Gabe longed to stuff his hand down Kieran’s pants and sink his teeth into the soft-hard flesh of his mate’s erect cock, he restrained his instincts and settled down calmly on his seat again. “Other than why and where, do we have anything else going for us?”
Swiping away the fresh coat of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand in a fast movement, Kieran licked his lips and shifted his position in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Just like most mercs who have time to get ready for a mission, I was able to take precautions in case the mission went awry. I have four hiding places for items in nearby towns. Caches for guns and ammo, stashes for food and clothes, and a reserve of money, IDs, and passports.”
“Hideaways?”
Kieran nodded in obvious relief at the change of conversation. This type of action was evidently his forte, and he was in control again. “Yeah. One if we can get to it. It’ll do for the time being, so I can plan out our next move. And there’s one other secure location, for a longer stay, but I really hope we won’t have to use that one.” His words cut off into what were barely grunts at the end, and Gabe had little difficulty discerning this was yet another topic out of bounds—for now.
“Where are we headed now?”
At that Kieran suddenly grinned. “Rosedown Plantation.”
The name didn’t ring any bells for Gabe, but it had been so long since he’d been in the Deep South, he had to trust this man to get him to safety, where he could contact his family to let them know he was all right. For now, though, he was stuck in a stolen SUV with a strange mercenary who had been his enemy an hour ago.
“The closest town is Morgan City to the southwest, which is where we’re headed for now,” Kieran said, more to himself than to his passenger. “We have to change cars soon, and start heading back up north, past Baton Rouge. They’ll figure out we’re going that way anyway, so we need a good head start.” Kieran sharply scrutinized every little detail of their surroundings as they passed by, as if looking for something specific. Gabe didn’t know what that was, but assumed it was a necessity for their continued survival, so he didn’t want to interrupt—much.
“What are we going to do with the car?” Gabe asked, not so much nervous as he was curious about the man’s methodology.
“They can track it, so we’re going to trash it.” Suddenly Kieran swerved the car to the side of the road where behind some thick bushes lay a small dirt road. Kieran had to have amazing eyesight to spot the damn thing at all, Gabe thought, holding onto the door handle. “At least they don’t have a tracer chip inside you.”
Gabe shivered at the detached, professional tone of his mate’s voice, but pushed that anxiety to the dark recesses of his mind, as now was not the time for such dismal ponderings. “My body would expel any foreign object anyway, so no worries.”
“Really?” Kieran’s voice sounded impressed as he stole a glance of Gabe, who just nodded. Kieran pursed his lips. “Cool.”
They drove for about three hundred yards, and then there was a bend in the road—but Kieran drove straight through the lush underbrush. Gabe checked and rechecked the sturdiness of his seat belt, not knowing if anything in the car was strong enough to hold onto during this insane drive. Rich foliage slapped against the car frame, thin branches and tree roots forcing the car to jolt and jump. No doubt the vehicle was collecting more than a few dints on the rough ride, but Kieran didn’t stop or slow down. Swallowing hard and grabbing the sides of his seat with sweating palms, Gabe dared a quick glance at his driver and saw only grim determination there.
Finally, the dense thicket began to clear beyond the windshield, and the curve of a lazy blue-green-brown river came into sharp focus as it drew rapidly near them.
“Kieran…,” Gabe whispered, his left hand landing on the man’s thigh with a squeeze.
The vehicle came to a stop so abruptly Gabe banged his head on the car’s tilting roof. “Good God, mister,” Gabe murmured, rubbing his aching forehead, the sting already dissipating. “Where on earth did you learn to drive like that?”
“Jungles of Brazil.”
Kieran’s voice was raspy and broke halfway through, and Gabe turned to look at him, worried. But Kieran’s widened eyes were glazed over, pupils so dilated that the blue was nothing more than a thin ring around a black iris. The intense gaze was directed at Gabe’s hand on his thigh.
“Kieran…,” Gabe started, his own voice thick with emotion.
As if mesmerized, Kieran slowly raised his gaze to meet Gabe’s, and the hunger there was naked and raw for the whole world to see.
Only it was just the two of them inside a sweltering car, where the electrifying tension hummed between them.
Kieran’s hot hand came to rest heavily over Gabe’s, and his grip tightened swiftly as he inched his fingers beneath Gabe’s palm until he was able to move both his and Gabe’s hands along Kieran’s inseam toward his crotch. The bulge there was unmistakable despite the concealing black fabric. Heat emanated from his mate to Gabe, spiking his libido into overdrive.
“Kieran…,” Gabe warned, knowing he wanted this as much as his mate did.
His palm found the heavy outline of Kieran’s erection, jutting against the zipper hard and hot, and instinctively he grabbed it and rubbed the heel of his hand along its length without a single conscious thought. Kieran’s eyes rolled in his head and closed dreamily as he let out a long-suffering sigh, as though he had finally gotten something for which he had waited an eternity.
Gabe could totally relate. Licking his lips, he felt hunger stir in him, like a horny entity inside him that pushed his hand to glide up and down over Kieran’s fabric-covered cock.
“Oh, yeah…,” Kieran whispered, his fingers digging into Gabe’s hand, forcing it to continue the sensually compressing motions. “Oh, fuck….”
His mate’s scent transformed from bare masculinity to a deeper, richer, muskier odor that had Gabe’s own cock pressing painfully against the fly of the already too tight pants. It was the smell of arousal, of desire, of sex, and Gabe yearned for more. Leaning closer, until the warmth and scent of Kieran wafted over him, Gabe felt the solid strength of his mate’s arms brush against his chest.
Startled at the sudden bodily contact, Kieran jumped backward on his seat and, in the process, dislodged both his and Gabe’s hands. Gabe saw panic in the man’s shocked eyes.
“I’m not gay.”
Chapter Three
DITCHING the car had been surprisingly easy. Gabe had watched as Kieran had gotten out of the car without another word on the subject, another in a lengthening list of forbidden topics, and loosened the handbrake to let the car inch forward into the river. With loud glucking noises as the interior had filled with water, the car had gone down, whatever was left of the motor and technical devices now drenched and at the bottom of a tributary of Lake Palourde.
Kieran had then proceeded to walk away at a s
wift pace back the way they came, but stayed away from the road once they reached the point where they had veered off course. Taking the silence of his mate in as best he could, Gabe followed equally quietly. The terrain was rough and muddy. At times his bare feet sank into the wet, swampy earth. The tiny pebbles, broken twigs, and cold mud all hurt the soles of his feet, but he kept the whining and cursing confined within as he had never been the type to complain or get angry about things he couldn’t change.
Resigned, he muddled through his current situation, which had changed completely.
Yes, he was still trying to escape his captors in the middle of nowhere with a morose mercenary to keep him company—and give him the silent treatment.
I’m not gay.
Kieran’s harsh words echoed in Gabe’s confused head. The statement in itself was self-explanatory and explicit in its meaning. Kieran wasn’t gay. Yet, his actions belied his words. He had been the one to initiate the sexual confrontation between them.
Gabe sighed, a bit despondent. The mating bond was powerful and the mating instinct could change people’s characters, at least temporarily. For a split second, Kieran had lost his better judgment and given in to his primal urges. That did not make him gay. Gabe tucked the thought of converting Kieran in the back of his mind since it did no good wallowing in matters like this. It was the wrong place and the wrong time. Besides, Kieran not being gay was just one more item to add to the ever-expanding list of things that made him the worst possible choice as Gabe’s mate.
Glancing over his shoulder, Kieran suddenly came to a standstill and looked down at Gabe’s bare feet. “Jesus, I forgot you don’t have any shoes.”
Though Kieran looked like he was about to add something, Gabe got there first. “I’m fine. I’m a lycan, I’ll heal. Let’s just move on.” Aware that had come out sharper and gruffer than he had intended, Gabe still faced Kieran’s frowning, blazing gaze with a composed one of his own. He recognized the expression as one that signaled its wearer wanted to start an argument just to get an excuse to shout and vent to his heart’s content. But Gabe simply wasn’t like that. His ma often said she had never heard him raise his voice—not once in over three centuries.
Finally, as though it took all the strength he had, Kieran cursed under his breath, spun around on his heels, and headed toward the highway again, this time not even pretending to keep a slow pace for Gabe’s sake. Even through the growing distance between them, Gabe could hear the guy muttering in a low tone, infuriated, but they were mere grumbled utterances, not actual words.
Gabe increased his pace, ignoring the sharp and dull twinges on his feet. Unfortunately, just because he was a werewolf, immortal and immune to diseases, he was not impervious to pain. That was a sensation quite real even to the likes of him.
After making steady progress through the woods, Gabe arrived back at the small dirt road where they had moved off the highway, and saw Kieran wave to him to stay where he was. At least, that was how Gabe interpreted the impatient gesture, so he found a soft spot on the grass behind some undergrowth that blocked his view to the road and beyond. Whatever Kieran was up to, he obviously didn’t want Gabe to interfere or mess up his plan or get in the way, so Gabe sat down and extended his sore feet in front of him and wiggled his toes. The ache was gone in the blink of an eye, but his feet remained soiled. He’d have to get a shower or a bath soon. And the afternoon heat of the blazing sun caused his clothes to feel even smaller than they were.
Exhaling, he shook off his irritation and focused on silencing his mind. Whatever was going to happen—with Kieran or with his feet—it would keep.
In less than five minutes, a raggedy dark-red pickup truck drove up fast and halted just as quickly, the tires squealing and dust rising into the air in a puffy cloud. A head peeked through the driver’s side window. “Get in! Hurry up!”
Rising to his feet, Gabe circled the hood of the truck and entered on the passenger’s side. It smelled of fresh hay, cow manure, and wet dog inside, and Gabe didn’t want to ask where and how Kieran had commandeered the vehicle. His expression deadpan, Kieran turned the truck around, shifted gears accompanied by a rusty sound, and steered the truck to the highway.
It wasn’t until they had bypassed Morgan City and turned north to highway 70 that the rigid set of Kieran’s shoulders began to relax and his tight, closed-off expression to unwind as his breath eased and slowed.
“Are you all right?” Gabe felt it was his duty—and his right—to ask. After all, Kieran wouldn’t have been in this position at all if it weren’t for Gabe. Then again, considering his line of work, perhaps this mess wasn’t that far off from other possibilities.
Kieran frowned, but didn’t look at Gabe. “It’ll be over a two-hour drive to Rosedown, since we have to take a couple of detours going around Baton Rouge. You should get some sleep. This opportunity may not come again anytime soon. Avail yourself of it.”
The brusque tone sounded like an order and did not invite further discussion. But Gabe had been a mediator and a peacemaker within his pack all his life, so not much intimidated him. “Would you like me to drive?”
“No. I’m good.” Terse and to the point, Gabe thought.
“It’s a long drive, and you need to rest too. Wake me up in an hour or so, and I’ll take over for a while, okay?” He kept his tone soothing and appeasing, drawing out the offer with his voice alone, showing nothing too aggressive or demanding.
Kieran blinked and opened his mouth, clearly readying himself to argue. But what came out was a sigh of resignation. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”
Deciding to give the man a break, Gabe leaned back against the bench seat to get more comfortable. There was no air-conditioning in the truck, and the driving with the windows open brought in a hot, moist breeze Gabe was less than pleased about. But the rushing sound of the wind and the constant hum of tires on the tarmac made him sleepy. Before he knew it, he had dozed off.
BY the time Kieran pulled the truck off at St. Joseph’s cemetery just outside of Grosse Tete, a Baton Rouge neighborhood about halfway to their destination at Rosedown Plantation, his back was stiff, his legs achy, and his eyesight blurry and unfocused. Green fields opened vast and flat all around him, and the air was humid and scorching. Stifling a groan, he emerged from the car and straightened his back, hearing vertebrae pop. His head was humming and his legs felt rubbery. It could have been the fatigue, or loss of the adrenaline that had driven him forward, or—
Or it could have been the big cowboy snoozing in the truck with soft puffs of air, his arms crossed, his chin lowered to touch his chest, which was rising and falling with his breathing.
Kieran shuddered. The man’s hand on his cock had felt so good, better than anything that had come before—and he hadn’t even been naked yet.
Fuck. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the image, but it was provocative enough to evoke all sorts of similar fantasies behind his closed eyes, each one racier and hotter than the one preceding it.
The bulletproof vest he wore constricted his already shallow breathing and, though he knew it was a bad idea, he removed the whole thing and placed it on the bench seat next to the sleeping guy, then closed the door as quietly as he could. He wouldn’t be gone long, so he felt safe enough to leave the cowboy alone briefly.
He walked out into the large cemetery field, the yellowing grass mostly trampled, the area wide open, without any shade. It didn’t take Kieran long to find the right tombstone—Price, how fitting—and, glancing around to see if anyone was out there and finding no one, he tilted the heavy stone slab back to expose the metal box beneath it. With it, he returned to the truck.
Gabriel stood outside the vehicle, looking distinctly alarmed, and glancing around fearfully in little fits of nerves. Kieran felt guilty at the sight of it. As soon as Gabriel saw him approach, he rounded the truck and stepped right into Kieran’s path, his brown eyes ablaze.
“Where—” he started, his low, deep voice cracking with concern.
Kieran stilled his undoubtedly bountiful and untimely questions. “I had to get this.” Showing Gabriel the metal lockbox, Kieran went for a pacifying tone. “Wanna drive the rest of the way? I could use a break.” But try as he might, he couldn’t look Gabriel in the eye. The silence dragged on, and all Kieran saw was Gabriel’s broad, muscular chest moving under his tight borrowed clothes, heaving with breath and emotion.
Finally, Gabriel shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Without another word, he turned around, climbed into the truck on the driver’s side, and started the ignition. Exhaling heavily, Kieran walked to the passenger’s side and slid in, more than a little uncomfortable. But Gabriel withheld his frustration and whatever else he might have felt, and focused on driving as they got back on the road.
As they drove on without speaking to each other, they passed flourishing green fields, isolated farmhouses, and little patches of woods, as well as over larger highways to stay on the tiny roads. Kieran waited a good twenty minutes before turning his attention to the lockbox. With the key he had in his chest pocket, he opened it, observing from the corner of his eye Gabriel taking a peek at the box as well.
The Glock 19 with three magazines was a given, just like the five rolls of cash, each worth a thousand dollars. These items Kieran had in all of his stashes, because you always needed ready cash, and when you were being pursued, a gun definitely came in handy. It wasn’t much, but money and a gun were better than nothing.
Closing the lockbox, Kieran let out a long sigh, weary. “I’m gonna take a nap, okay?” His eyelids felt like someone had attached weights to them, and he slumped against the vinyl seat, adrift in slumber before he heard if there was any reply.
When Kieran awoke next, with no concept of how much time had passed; the truck was still and the engine was off. Startled, he nearly bounced off his seat. A strong, warm hand landed on his arm.
