"Why are you growling at me?" Christian asked sleepily, his eyes still closed.
"What were you dreaming?" Derrick snapped.
Christian opened his eyes. They were a bright slate gray color right now, refreshed from his long sleep.
He stretched his hands up and twisted his neck in a motion that Derrick would not call adorable. He would not. But the tiny yawn he gave was kind of cute.
"That is none of your business. You know, as your PR adviser I believe it is my duty to inform you that that is probably one of the reasons why people don't like you. Not everything is your business."
Derrick sat back as Christian unwound his limbs from their curled up position. "You're my business," he said, affronted.
Christian rubbed the back of his neck. "How do you figure?"
"Because you're my…employee."
"Micro-managers are the worst type of people," Christian said and then motioned for Derrick to lean back so he could stand.
Derrick let him go. He wasn't going to keep him from the bathroom. He wasn't that possessive. Not yet. He could feel it growing, though. And it wasn't entirely enjoyable. He liked the dominant feelings but disliked how quickly it felt like they could turn dark.
When Christian came back, the bus driver announced they'd be making a quick rest stop. At the stop, Derrick offered to go in and get them breakfast. Christian eyed him warily but agreed. When Derrick returned with coffees, orange juice, breakfast sandwiches and deep fried hash browns patties, Christian eyed each item like an explosives technician.
"It isn't poisoned," Derrick barked.
"I know," Christian said, taking the smallest bite of the sandwich that could still be called a bite. "You didn't have enough time to poison everything. And how would you know which sandwich I would grab?" He gave Derrick a bright smile that made him forget to be annoyed. "So, Derrick Antoine Robichaud, the Third, where exactly in Louisiana are we going? What am I walking into here?" He took a sip of his coffee and settled back. They had at least one more full day on the bus and most of the next.
Maybe that would be enough time to scratch the Robichaud family history. "The Robichauds settled in what is known today as Des Allemands on the Lafourche Parish portion. Robichauds have lived along the bayou there since before the city was established."
"Explains the sexy accent you sometimes have. It sounds like you come from an old family, that's sweet."
"Sweet?"
"Like, I don't know. It sounds so magical over there. The old south."
"I'm glad you feel that way." And he found that he was. Some people wanted to discount most of his state as full of ignorant hillbillies, and Louisiana did have its fair portion of those. But no more than any other state.
"But why do you need me? I mean, what type of a position are you in where you need a PR guy?"
How much did Christian know about shifters? Would he believe that his father was the alpha leader for all of the bayous in Louisiana? Would Christian even understand what that meant? Derrick knew he wouldn't understand the feud his family had been having with the Babineaux clan. Someone as kind as Christian could never understand such senseless violence.
But that violence was going to come to an end. With a union of good mercy. Derrick scowled again, thinking about the cause of his bender more than a week ago. He remembered Christian had asked him a question. "My dad is a bit of a political figure."
"Say no more. I totally get father drama."
It wasn't like that really, though. Derrick had a great relationship with his dad. Even if he didn't agree with his father's means of finding peace between the two warring packs. But that did remind him. "Tell me more about this Patrick the Pistol. That name makes him sound like a 1940's mobster, by the way."
It was clear from Christian's body language that he did not like the turn the conversation had taken. "I'm not sure he isn't one. Honestly, so much of what he does seems to come straight out of the movies. I never had the stomach for it. As a kid, I clung to my mother. Until…"
Pain filled his expression, and Derrick felt an urge to do whatever it took to wipe it from his face. "You don't have to talk about it."
A ghost of a smile touched Christian's lips. "I know. And good job." His smile widened. "Remembering not everything is your business," he clarified.
Derrick's gaze drifted to the scenery whirring past. When they'd first gotten on the bus everything outside was green and rocky. Now it had turned brown and dry. It would go green again before they made it home.
"Anyway, her death was a message to my father. And instead of backing off and taking care of his grieving son, 'The Pistol' doubled down and became the city's seedy kingpin. It's dumb. Not like he has any real power. That's where it isn't like the movies. He doesn't have the cops in his pockets, just a neighborhood of people who do what he says, and the fear of those who don't know any better." Christian swallowed the rest of his coffee in one gulp and then finished his food.
Talking about his father had made Christian angry. Derrick had a sudden urge to wipe that anger from him.
"Give me my first lesson. How do you make people like you?"
Christian expelled a sharp breath like he was letting go of the anger that had been swirling inside of his body. "There isn't some magic secret, Derrick."
"To hell, there isn't. You've become best friends with every person who has gotten on this bus. You had Serena and what's his face inviting you to go backpacking with them. And they were sad when you declined. I think Serena cried."
"She did? Oh no. I should call her."
"You have her number?"
Christian chuckled, it was nearly a giggle and oddly, shot straight to Derrick's dick, like the other man's laughter was a turn on.
"Like I said. There isn't some magic spell, Derrick. It's called giving a shit about people. Caring enough to listen to people's stories, or feeling empathy when your actions caused sadness in another. Or remembering a person's name."
"What's his face?"
"Jack. His name was Jack. And you two have a lot in common. His father is the mayor of his hometown. Kind of like you."
"Not like me." Derrick wondered how long they were both going to ignore the shifter in the room. His inner wolf had settled down the moment they'd gotten on the bus. He hated enclosed spaces, was bored with staying in one spot. Even if that spot was hurtling down a highway. But Christian had seen him shift, had a shifter's mate's scent on him, was being chased by shifters when they met. Still, he seemed okay with just ignoring it all. Derrick could too. Until he couldn't. "So…how do I give a shit about people?" Derrick asked, actually meaning his question.
Christian eyed him. Derrick expected some rude response but surprisingly, Christian smiled. "You have already started. When you saved me in that alley. No one knew you were there. You could have let them just get me."
The amount of anger that surged through him at the idea of someone leaving his Christian in that alley to be harmed nearly took his breath away. He hadn't had a choice himself. One moment, he'd been passed out with no thought or care to even what state he was in, and the next he was on his feet, his wolf taking over as it defended Christian.
"That doesn't count," Derrick said, gruffly. "I never had a choice."
"Sure you did," Christian said, bumping against his shoulder playfully.
"No, I didn't." He didn't mean to sound so rough, but Christian looked at him with wide innocent eyes. Derrick laid his hand on the side of Christian's neck, slowly. His thumb caressed along Christian's jawline. "You're too nice," he said, needing to distract them both from how he was acting. "You probably would have let them have anything they wanted and then called back to make sure they were okay afterward."
Christian scoffed lightly. "No way," he whispered.
Derrick leaned over, needing to take that kiss he'd thought about at the beginning of the day. He'd replayed that moment over and over wishing he'd gone for it. Now, he would. His lips were a soft touch. With Herculean effort,
he kept his now wide awake wolf back, hindered it, so that Derrick would be able to kiss Christian gently. He allowed the softest of swipes of his tongue in and out of Christian's mouth. Christian moaned softly, and the sound tickled his ears with pleasure. Then, he dropped his hands, happy to see the disappointment in Christian at the space that was between them again.
#
Christian washed his hands in the sink on the bus. He hadn't used the facilities. Washing his hands gave him something to do. He'd spent the better part of the day roaming the bus until the driver had scolded him. And then the driver scolded him again more quietly after Derrick had told the driver off.
Derrick.
Christian had never met anyone who could get under someone's skin faster than Derrick Robichaud. It wasn't just that he was domineering, but also that he came off as entitled. Christian knew so little about him. Maybe he was entitled. But, he'd enlisted Christian's help, so he obviously knew there was a problem in the way he came across to people.
He got under Christian's skin as well, but for an entirely different reason. If he were honest, Christian wouldn't have been able to wander the bus much longer anyway on account of the raging boner that would not go down. It had started after that slow, gentle kiss and had not let up. He'd tried relieving the tension, desperate enough even to do it in the bus bathroom, but his wrist hadn't allowed him the required mobility. If anything, the joint felt stiffer. It hurt, but there was no sense dwelling on that pain, except to damn it for not even letting Christian have the tiniest break. There was no use trying with his left hand. He was too uncoordinated and would probably end up accidentally punching himself in the face in all the excitement.
He felt like he was on some sort of cycle. It had built and built before and then eased after that blow job. They were nearly there now, though. There would be no more stops. The last passenger had gotten off in the previous town. Derrick and Christian had the bus all to themselves, tucked in their cozy little back cove. Christian sighed and went back to his seat.
"Did you drink a lot of water?" Derrick asked.
Damn him. He knew. Somehow he knew what Christian was going through.
He can probably see your cock, Christian thought. But it wasn't just that. It was like he could smell it on him.
Christian nearly froze in the act of sitting down.
He could smell it on him. He remembered back to everything he knew about Derrick, including that teeny tiny factor that he'd been able to sort of ignore: that he could transform into a wolf. Christian didn't know if he should be embarrassed or not. He did know that Derrick could smell his arousal. Why did that thought make him harder? Was it that he didn't even have to use words to communicate his need?
But words were fun. Flirting was exciting. If everyone in a room automatically knew who was attracted to who, then where was the appeal? On top of that, it wasn't fair. Derrick knew so much more about him than he did about Derrick, just because he had some extra sharp senses.
Again, his lust swirled with his irritation.
"We're almost there," Derrick said, as a warning or encouragement, Christian didn't know.
"Great." Christian curled up and turned away from Derrick. He'd turned off their overhead light. As it was nighttime, they sat in darkness. Christian could still feel Derrick beside him, though. Could still hear his steady, deep breaths. He counted the man's breaths, hoping it would distract him. He would count as a child when he was scared or nervous and hadn't had to use the coping habit in a long time. At somewhere around breath twenty, Christian noticed Derrick's breathing quickening, like he was becoming excited like he was becoming…aroused.
Christian didn't dare move even though he was elated that he had now possibly gained unspoken information about Derrick. If anything, his muscles tightened at the knowledge, contracting his body into a tighter ball.
"For fuck's sake," Derrick cursed quietly in the darkness. He gripped Christian's hip bone and pulled his body down. Christian whimpered at being so roughly handled. Then he bit his lip to contain the wail when Derrick reached down his pants and grabbed hold of Christian's hard cock, squeezing the base before sliding his hand up, over the tip and back down. "Fucking ridiculous," Derrick hissed. "You creep around, obviously needing my help. Your desire fills my senses. Just ask next time," he ordered.
His hand never stopped moving up and down Christian's shaft. Christian's hips gyrated like he was fucking Derrick's hand. It wasn't enough, wasn't what his body truly wanted, but it would have to do. At least the man his body seemed to desire was there, stroking his sensitive shaft. Derrick shoved his fingers through Christian's hair, grabbing and pulling before jerking his head to the side and kissing him, swallowing his moans. Derrick's tongue plunged inside, mimicking the motion of his hand. He nipped Christian's bottom lip and then sucked on it.
Christian could feel his climax coming. He didn't want it to. Or rather, he wanted to be able to come and then bend over so that Derrick could show him just how he would guide his ass like he was guiding his mouth. Derrick rubbed over the tip harder and Christian exploded, coming in sharp bursts, his come shooting up forcefully from the tip of his cock.
"Holy shit," he gasped. "I need—"
"I know," Derrick said, his words rushed, sounding far away. "Bend the fuck over. Right now," he growled.
And then, they were blinded by the bus's interior lights as the driver spoke over the sound system. "Last stop."
Chapter 6
Derrick shouldered Christian's gym bag and carried his school bag with his other hand. Christian should have told him that his wrist bothered him so much. He had no business carrying on like everything was normal.
Carrying Christian's things also helped Derrick burn some energy. After the bus driver with the shittiest timing known to shifter-kind had interrupted them, Derrick had a lot pent up that needed a physical release. Right now, he could run ten miles back home and then turn around and run back to the bus stop again. But, he couldn't run. Not without leaving Christian behind. So, he would carry. He'd carry for as long as it took to get Christian into a dark and secluded space. When that happened, he was letting his dick and his wolf free.
Christian didn't object when Derrick grabbed his bags. He hadn't said a single word. His need had been as great as Derrick's had been. The scent of his need remained even now, but it had lessened someone—like the sexual interaction had offered a bit of relief. There was something else about his smell. Derrick had noticed it the first time they'd met, but back then it had been in and out, fading and then strengthening. Now, it was always present and growing stronger. Derrick couldn't place it, but he liked it. A lot.
Normally, he'd asked his father, but Derrick's heart palpitated at the thought of Christian meeting his family. They were old money—for Louisiana—and Derrick had never been anything but damned proud of his heritage and family. He never resented them as some of his college buddies had resented their parents nor had he ever been embarrassed by them. They were respected by not only his hometown but by the entire bayou, so then why did he feel apprehensive now?
He couldn't make sense of it, and right now he didn't need to. Derrick would deal with all that later after he'd gotten Christian alone and naked.
"There's a pack pub just down the block that stays open late." It was as if his years of speech training had driven away with the bus. His Louisiana accent was as thick as the honey his mémé would pour over their Sunday cornbread. He could blame it on his being so close to home, though the accent was most likely a subconscious action ever since he'd discovered how much Christian liked it.
"A pub?" Christian parroted him, his pupils still dilated.
Derrick fought the urge to drape an arm over his shoulders and tuck him to his side. "Yeah, for food. Maybe a drink?" And the place he was thinking of had a safe house apartment on the top floor that Derrick was always welcomed to use. All of the pack was. It could be occupied, but if it was he'd pull rank and kick whoever was in there out for an hour
.
He caught Christian's lusty gaze again.
Maybe two hours.
Christian took a deep breath, exhaled, and then took another. "Okay, sure," he said with a nod.
Derrick hastened his steps. This wouldn't do. He didn't want to give Christian's libido a chance to calm down. He wanted Christian's head so full of dirty thoughts that when they did get alone, he was just as eager and greedy for it as Derrick. The food was out then. They'd sit, get a drink, swallow it down and then scurry up the stairs as soon as possible.
Derrick spotted the pub ahead. This late and Des Allemands was a ghost town. The muggy night air clung to his skin and filled his head. The only other people out and about were likely looking for the same things Derrick was eager to get to. Most of the businesses were closed, the reputable ones anyway.
Derrick opened the pack pub door, guiding Christian through in front of him. He stepped inside and was immediately blasted by a familiar mix of scents. Beer, cigarette smoke and Joe, the regular bartender's too-strong aftershave.
Christian coughed delicately. "I thought they banned smoking in bars."
"This is a shifter bar," Derrick said.
"And what? Shifter bars don't abide by state regulations?"
Derrick headed to the bar, past the pool tables. The other customers all stared at Derrick as he walked by, some whispered behind their palms. None of them would approach him, though. "State regulations don't mean much here," he said to Christian, amazed at how little he knew about shifter culture. Unescorted humans almost never entered this pub, and when they did, they were either claimed quickly or shown the door. Derrick couldn't imagine Christian entering this place on his own, the frenzy that would follow as the lesser shifter males fell all over themselves to get to him. In his current state of mind, it was best if Derrick didn't imagine it.
He led them to the bar where two seats magically opened up just as they got there. He set Christian's bags down on the floor next to them, confident they would be safe there.
"Hey, Joe," he said to the bartender, who had the fullest head of hair and the emptiest set of gums he'd ever see. Joe seemed like a good guy. Derrick honestly didn't know a thing about him, other than him being the bartender here since before Derrick had been legally able to drink.
Wolf's Mate Mpreg Romance Box Set Page 20
