There was a pause as Joam and Blake looked at one another, absorbing this. They were out of the city now, driving through the northern Texas countryside. It was dark and quiet, and the rhythmic ticking of the tires across the pavement was like a lullaby. All of a sudden, Blake was exhausted, and he remembered that he and Joam had barely slept in three days. He was dehydrated, the backs of his eyeballs were sore, and despite the recent shower, he felt sticky and sweaty from their chase. Joam squeezed his hand, and they huddled together. Still, he couldn't relax. “What happens now?” he asked.
“We take you to a safe house. There, Joam will have the opportunity to learn more about what it means to be a varnal, and you will be educated as to the consequences of getting romantically involved with a varnal.”
“Consequences?” asked Joam. “What consequences?”
“We'll discuss all of that later. Right now, just relax. We'll be there soon.”
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of a farmhouse. Vic escorted them up the walk. The screen door creaked as he opened it. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Go on in. Saffron will be in the kitchen. She'll help you get settled. I'm going to ditch the car, just in case.”
They walked into a short hallway where boots and shoes lay scattered on the muddy floor, along with a much-beleaguered doormat. A closet door stood partway open, revealing coats and jackets. The landing opened onto a living room with bare, cream-colored walls.
A man and a woman, both about Blake's age, sat on a couch watching television. The boy, who had reddish brown hair and freckles, stared blankly at the screen and leaned back against the girl, an oval-faced blonde, her skin so pale it looked like cream. She had her arms and legs wrapped around the boy, and she stared at Joam and Blake with cornflower blue eyes, an uncertain expression on her face. “Hi.”
“Hi,” said Blake. “We…uh… Vic said to find Saffron? In the kitchen?”
The girl nodded. “Through that hallway there.” She pointed over her shoulder. Blake noticed that the boy had not moved or even glanced at them. He still stared at the television, seemingly unaware of anything else.
“Did that scrawny vagabond Vic just drop you two off to fend for yourselves?” said a woman wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she entered the living room. She was tall and ample, her bosom, belly, and hips stretching the fabric of her purple hippie dress. Her hair was red, long, and curly, and she had a beautiful face—plump cheeks and lips and a warm, friendly expression. “I'm Saffron. You must be Walsh's latest victims.”
“I'm Blake, and this is Joam.”
Saffron shook her head and clucked. “The two of you look dead on your feet. You've been on the run for what, two days now, three? And that's not counting the shenanigans in Beulah, is it?”
Blake felt the tension that had been keeping him awake and active over the past thirty-six hours unraveling in the presence of this warm, kindly woman.
“Yes, ma'am,” said Joam, who, by the way his shoulders drooped, felt the same way.
“Well, come on into the kitchen. I'll fix you both a nice glass of my cinnamon tea while Enid and Jimmy get your room ready. Enid, hon?”
“We're on it, Saff.” Enid untangled herself from the boy—Jimmy, presumably—and led him down the hallway.
Saffron showed them into a large, warm kitchen. A round wooden table sat in the middle of the room, and beyond it was a fridge that looked like it dated from the 1950s. Beside it stood a big white-enamel stove that looked even older. “I expect you're both pretty dehydrated, what with the run and all. Have you eaten?”
Blake and Joam exchanged a smile. “Yes, ma'am,” said Joam.
She clucked. “So formal. Aren't you sweet? It's Saffron, or Saff, as you like. Have a seat, boys.” She ambled over to the refrigerator, where she pulled out a large pitcher. She took two glasses down from a cupboard over the sink and plunked one each down in front of Joam and Blake. “This tea is my special recipe,” she said. “Lots of electrolytes, plus the cinnamon will soothe your jagged nerves. Not to mention it's yummy.”
She poured them each a large glassful of the reddish amber liquid. Blake sipped it. It was delicious. Cinnamon, just as she'd said, and maybe a touch of honey. He didn't realize how thirsty he was. He drank the whole glass down. When he finished, he looked over and saw that Joam, too, had drained his. Saffron poured them some more and sat down across from them, leaning on the table with her arms. “I'm so glad Vic got to you in time.”
Joam took another swallow of tea, and Blake asked, “How did you know about us?”
Saffron was about to answer, when Enid appeared in the doorway, Jimmy trailing behind her. “The room's ready for you,” she said, glancing at them and then away. She was a little shy.
“Thank you, dear,” said Saffron, and then to Joam and Blake, “I'll take you up soon as you're ready.”
In unison, they finished their tea and stood. Joam started toward the sink, and Saffron took the glasses from them and set them on the counter. “Don't bother with that. I'll get it later.”
She led them down the hallway to a stairway that creaked beneath her as she made her majestic way up it. “Right this way.”
They followed her to the second floor, which seemed to have at least six bedrooms. Saffron led them to a room at the back of the house. “Bathroom's right there.” She pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. “You just make yourselves comfortable, and if there's anything you need, just holler. Oh, one other thing. You're a mixed couple, right? I think I remember Vic saying one of you is human?”
Blake stepped closer to Joam, who put a protective arm around him. “That's right,” said Blake.
She nodded. “Which one of you is the varnal?”
“I am,” said Joam.
“Blake, why don't you go inside and get comfortable? I need to talk to Joam for a moment in private.”
They exchanged glances. “It's okay,” said Joam. “It'll just be a minute. I'll be right in.”
Saffron smiled and nodded.
Blake didn't like the idea of them separating, even for a few minutes.
“We'll be right out here, Blake. Nothing is going to happen.”
Suddenly, he felt silly. They needed to talk varnal stuff, probably. Why was he being such a nervous Nellie about it? He wanted Joam to learn more about his varnal nature. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. He went into the room and shut the door behind him.
Saffron led Joam a little ways down the hallway, out of earshot of the room where Blake was waiting for him. She stood close. She was almost as tall as he was. She put a hand to his cheek in a motherly fashion. It was warm. “I probably don't need to tell you this, son, but you do know you have to be careful with your human lovers, right?”
Joam's stomach twisted. “Careful?”
“You don't want him to end up like Jimmy downstairs, do you? Enid's puppy? She played too hard with him, I'm afraid. Didn't mean to, of course, but these things happen. Ours is a passionate breed, and we can get carried away. The risk is even greater when both parties are tired.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and stepped back. “Well, good night.”
Blake stood at the door, which he'd left open a crack, and listened to Joam and Saffron's conversation.
“Ours is a passionate breed, and we can get carried away. The risk is even greater when both parties are tired. Well, good night.”
Blake watched Joam watch Saffron walk down the hallway. He was pale, his jaw rigid. He swallowed and seemed to force himself to stir. He looked at Blake, his dark eyes fathomless.
“Come on,” said Blake.
Joam came inside, and Blake turned to examine the rest of the room. It was small but neat. A double bed sat in one corner, with a nightstand beside it supporting a lamp and an old-fashioned windup alarm clock. There was a chest of drawers on the wall facing the bed, and a chifforobe hulking against the wall next to the door. A window looked out onto the backyard of the farmhouse, and Blake cross
ed to it, gazing down at the yard.
The moon was just past full, and it lit the trees and a rusted, derelict swing set with silver light. Beyond the dilapidated picket fence were fields. Blake wondered what grew there and who tended it. How had this colony of varnals found this place, and how long had they been here? Vic had called it a “safe house.” Was it?
It was dark in the room. Blake hadn't turned on the bedside lamp. But even in the dim light from the windows, he could see how exhausted Joam was by the slump of his shoulders and the careful way he shut the door behind him. Blake left the window and put his arms around Joam. “Let's get some rest, babe.”
Joam nodded, placing a kiss on top of his head.
As Blake pulled back the covers of the double bed, he marveled at what he'd just done. He'd called Joam “babe”—without thought or hesitation. It had just come out, naturally. And from Joam's lack of reaction, it had felt natural for him too. Funny. A week ago, they'd never even met. Blake felt like he'd known Joam his whole life, but the feeling was deceptive. The truth was, they hardly knew one another at all.
Blake sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes. He looked up in time to catch Joam pulling his sweater over his head. His lean, sculpted torso was a work of art in the moonlight, all hard planes and subtle shadows. Tired as he was, the sight made Blake's cock twitch with interest. Blake stripped off his sweatpants and his sweater and crawled into bed, holding the covers up for Joam, who was bending down to step out of his sweats, showing off that fine, tight ass of his.
Blake's compact, muscular body was almost as intoxicating as his words. “Babe.” He'd called Joam “babe,” seemingly without thinking twice about it. The casual endearment meant even more to Joam because it had come so naturally, without discussion or decision. It was just right.
And it felt right. Even though they'd only just met, Joam felt like he'd known Blake all his life. That was deceptive, though. He couldn't afford to make assumptions. Blake had lived a whole life before he met Joam, one Joam knew next to nothing about.
“Get in, hurry. These old farmhouses are cold.”
It was true. The air of the room was on the chilly side. Sliding between the sheets, with Blake's warm body just inches away from his, was sheer heaven. He was exhausted. Blake must be too. Still, Blake's proximity and his obvious arousal had Joam's cock intent on something other than sleep.
Blake scooted across the short distance between them and kissed Joam on the lips. It was soft and sweet, and it made every nerve in Joam's body pulse with desire. But from what Saffron had told him, this was exactly the type of situation in which Blake could get hurt. Joam was tired. His defenses were down. Joam wanted to cry from frustration. He broke the kiss.
Blake reached between them, and his fingers grazed Joam's hard cock before Joam could pull his hips back to avoid the contact. He took Blake by the shoulders, preventing him from coming in for another kiss.
“What's wrong?” asked Blake.
Joam sighed. “We're both really tired, Blake. Maybe we should just get some sleep.”
“I heard what Saffron said, but she was talking about what could happen when you're in varnal form. Not this. I'm not afraid, Joam. I know you'd never hurt me.”
Suddenly, his dream came back to him in vivid detail. “Don't be so sure. You don't know what it's like. How strong the feelings are.” He paused. “Did you see that guy?”
Blake nodded. “I know. But that's not going to happen to me. You're going to learn all about what it means to be a varnal. I'm sure there are ways to prevent anything bad from happening, and in the meantime”—he stole in for another kiss—“we'll just stick to your human form.”
Joam swallowed. “But what if I lose control? What if I shift without meaning to?”
Blake's laugh was carefree. “That can't happen.” He paused. “Can it?”
Joam ran his hand through Blake's hair, his other hand on Blake's shoulder, preventing any more contact. His cock raged in frustration, but he was not going to give in. “I'm not going to take the chance.”
Blake stared at him, blinking. “Oh,” he said at last, an encyclopedia's worth of confusion, doubt, and unhappiness in that syllable. He took a deep breath and nodded, then forced a smile. “Um, well, good night, then.” He rolled onto his other side, away from Joam.
“Good night,” Joam said to Blake's back.
Chapter Three
Blake awoke early. Dawn was just beginning to peep through the curtains on the window. He'd rolled over in his sleep, instinctively seeking Joam's warm body. Now he lay half on top of him, his morning woody plastered to Joam's hip and Joam's own erection solid under his hand. He smiled and began to stroke Joam.
A tiny whimper escaped Joam's lips, and he thrust into Blake's hand. He was still asleep; the anxious mind that had pushed Blake away last night was out of the picture for the moment.
Joam's body knew what it wanted, and Blake ducked under the covers before its owner could wake up and worry himself out of lovemaking again. Blake relished the musky taste of Joam's cock, the little pearl of precum at the top, so slick and sweet. He lapped it up, then swirled his tongue around the head while he pumped the base of Joam's shaft with his hand.
Blake wondered about Joam's fear of accidentally changing. He'd never heard of anything like that happening with varnals. Was it true, or did Joam have another reason for pushing him away? One he maybe didn't want to acknowledge, even to himself.
Blake tried to ignore the thought, concentrating on what he was best at. He sucked Joam's cock down, deep throating him. That's right, said the voice in his head that sneaked up on him sometimes, when he was alone and feeling vulnerable. Do your job, whore. It's all you're good for. No wonder he pushed you away. He knows. He's being nice to you, but he knows what you are. Did you forget?
“Blake?” Strong hands reached down, running fingers through his hair and stroking the sides of his face. No, Blake told the voice. This is different.
“God! Blake!” Joam bucked against him, and seconds later, hot cum filled his mouth. Blake drank it all down. He surged up out of the blankets and threw himself over Joam's chest, letting his rock-hard erection press against Joam's thigh. Hint, hint.
One look at the expression on Joam's face wiped the smile from Blake's face. “What?”
“Don't ever do anything like that again,” said Joam, his voice harsh.
Anger came to Blake's defense. “What, wake you up with a blowjob? I'm so sorry. How awful for you.”
Joam shook his head. “You don't understand. It's dangerous.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Oh please.”
“I'm serious! What if I changed? What if I drained you again? I was asleep, dreaming… I had no control.”
Blake pushed himself off Joam and sat with his back to the wall, his erection fading fast. He looked out the window, at the bedspread, the clock on the table, anywhere but Joam's accusing eyes. Just what is he accusing you of?
The only sound in the room was the ticking of that clock. Blake didn't know what to say, what to do. Last night, Joam had said it was dangerous because he was tired. This morning it was dangerous because he was asleep. Maybe he thought it was dangerous for some other reason.
Blake got off the bed and started pulling on the sweatpants he'd had on last night. He felt Joam's eyes on him, but he couldn't look at him, not now. “I got tested one month ago,” he said, pulling on the sweater Vic had given him. “I'm negative. I get tested every three months.” The words came out in a monotone and wouldn't stop. “I don't bareback. But I don't always use a condom for oral. A lot of tricks hate it. I'll use one on you, if you want. I should have. I'm sorry.”
“Blake! That's not what I—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. “You boys decent?” A second later, the door opened and Saffron stuck her head in. With her came the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon. Despite everything, Blake's stomach rumbled. “How do you boys like your eggs?”
Saffron had prepared a real farmhouse breakfast, with eggs over easy, bacon, flapjacks with maple syrup, and hot, fresh coffee. There was very little conversation around the table as he and Joam, Saffron, Enid, and Vic dug in. The only one who wasn't eating was Jimmy. He sat beside Enid and listlessly chewed on pieces of toast that she fed him by hand. It was creepy. Blake wanted to ask what was wrong with him, but it seemed rude somehow. Anyway, he wasn't the only one unnerved by the guy. More than once he noticed Joam staring and then catching himself and forcing his gaze back to his plate.
“So, Vic, you have any trouble ditching the car?” asked Saffron when they were all done with the food and were down to sipping their coffee. Blake's stomach felt like it was going to burst. He'd better watch himself. At the rate he was going, he'd be putting on the pounds.
What if he didn't have to worry about that? From the way Joam had talked about “settling down,” it sounded like he meant for them to stay together for the long term. But did he mean it? And would his squeamishness about Blake's past prevent it, no matter what his intentions?
“No problem,” Vic was saying. “I sank it in Lake Broken Wing. Bit of a long trip back, even houndclad. I'm beat. Saff, you mind getting Joam started this morning? I'd like to take a nap.”
“Sure,” said Saffron, and she looked at Joam. “I think I can handle Varnal 101.”
“We really appreciate everything you're doing for us,” said Joam. He glanced at Blake. “If you hadn't shown up when you did last night…”
Blake blushed as he remembered what a close call they'd had. And here he was getting all wrapped up in his own insecurities.
“No need to thank us, hon,” said Saffron. “That's what we're here for. Right, Vic?”
“That's right. As long as there are people out there like Gregor Walsh giving varnals a bad name, we'll be here, helping his victims and educating varnals and the humans who care for them about our true nature.”
“You make it sound like being a varnal isn't a bad thing,” said Joam.
Awakenings 2: Instinct Page 3
