Jake still hadn't let go of Liam's wrist. He couldn't quite bring himself to. "When will you attack?"
Liam's eyes were firm. "Tomorrow, at dusk."
"You can't," Jake exclaimed. "You're wounded. There's no way you'll be fit to fight tomorrow."
"I'm fine."
Jake tightened his grip. The sight of Liam, collapsed and bleeding, screamed in
his brain. He would not allow that again. "You're covered in blood," he ground out. Liam reached down to his shirt and unbuttoned it slowly. Small, circular scars still dotted his skin--Jake shivered at just how many there were--but, under the bruises and smudges of blood, the wounds were closed.
"I heal fast." He stared straight into Jake's eyes, his expression bitter. "And you should mind your own business."
Jake took a deep breath. He pulled the cloth out of his pocked and leaned to dip it in the water. "Here," he said. "Let me clean that up."
"I don't need this." Liam's voice was hoarse.
"Okay." Jake raised his hand, reaching to dab the cloth on Liam's temple. Blood smeared the white fabric.
Liam pushed his hand away, baring his teeth. "I don't need this."
"I know." Jake's hand moved lower, past the corner of Liam's jaw, down the tense muscles of his neck. A droplet of water rolled from the cloth, sliding along Liam's clavicle.
"Stop it!" Liam grabbed his hand, yanked it away. "I don't need this. I don't need you to--I don't need you. I don't need you."
He got to his feet, turning resolutely to leave, but Jake was fast. He grabbed Liam's wrists, holding on as the fox struggled, pulling him close, forcing him to still. For a long, sizzling instant, he just stared into Liam's wide eyes as he breathed hard. Jake waited. Fight or flight.
Liam growled low in his throat, and shoved at Jake's chest, hard. "Let me go," he hissed. "I don't need this bullshit."
"I know." Jake didn't loosen his grip. Gently, he stroked the skin of Liam's wrist with his thumb. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I need it."
Liam's struggles weakened until he stood still, still trapped in Jake's hold. He lowered his eyes, pained anger marring his features. "You know what? You keep talking as if you understand. But you don't. You can't." His lips were a thin line. "Blood isn't that easy to cleanse. You think you can just wash it off, but it's not enough. It's still there. Even if you don't see it."
Jake swallowed. So, it was time. He'd been meaning to confess for a while. But the thought of the disgust in Liam's eyes--of having Liam stare at him without an ounce of respect--it was enough to make his chest ache. "I do." Slowly, he released Liam's wrists and lifted one hand to the neck of his own shirt. Liam stared at him.
Jake closed his eyes, and pulled down the fabric.
Liam's gasp sliced through him like a blade.
"It was a long time ago." Jake whispered. "Over eight years. But... I remember. What it's like." Opening his eyes required almost too big an effort. Liam's face was pale, his eyes riveted to Jake's skin, unable to conceal his shock.
Jake glanced down, the familiar heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. There it was, inked permanently into his skin, on the left side of his chest, right over his heart. The small, black triangle that every recruit had tattooed before their first day. The mark of the militia.
Liam took a step back. He was shaking his head, in slow denial.
Jake let go of the shirt. The triangle was hidden from sight, but Liam's gaze didn't shift. "It was a long time ago," he repeated, his voice low. Part of him wanted to plead, to beg Liam to understand. But he just swallowed.
Liam's eyes flickered up, meeting his gaze. Shock, anger, disbelief, and, under it all, a stinging, sour betrayal. God, it hurt. Without a word, the fox turned around and walked away, his steps eerily quiet.
Watching him go was just a little too hard. Jake closed his eyes and just breathed until the last echo of Liam's steps faded away.
There was no questioning how much of an idiot he was. Did he have to go and be all honest and dramatic when, clearly, Liam had already enough shit going on? Oh, by the way, I used to be one of the guys who murder your people for sport; wanna guess how many foxes I shot down in the good ole' days? Brilliant. Pure fucking genius.
Jake groaned, face down on the bed. He couldn't even be arsed to get up and punch himself in the face. Perhaps he would suffocate into the pillow. That was a comforting thought. "I can't possibly fuck up more than this anyway," he mumbled. He felt sick to his stomach. Exactly when had he started to bloody care what the stupid fox thought of him?
Busy cataloguing the many reasons why he was dumbest fucker that ever walked the earth, he almost failed to register the soft click of the door. It was only when light fingers brushed his spine that he snapped out of it. He jolted up, eyes wide as he took in Liam's figure, seated on the edge of the bed. The fox had finished what Jake had started; the blood was gone, his skin now pale and flawless, his white hair still damp. He wasn't smiling, but his expression was, somehow, serene.
Before he had the time to reconsider, Jake lurched forward and wrapped his arms around the fox in a crushing hug. "I left," he murmured, urgently. Every fiber in his being ached with the need to explain. "I couldn't stand it. Too much blood on my hands. And then, one day, there was a child, a fox child, and they wanted me to... to... so I left. I deserted. I couldn't..."
Liam's finger was gentle on his lips. "There's no need," he murmured. Slowly, he reached to cup Jake's face with his hands, holding his gaze. His fingers were warm.
When Liam leaned in to kiss him, Jake thought his chest would crack open.
Liam tugged at his shirt; Jake yanked it off, desperate to clutch Liam close. But the fox held his distance; he looked him in the eye as he pushed him down on the bed, straddling his hips. His hand moved slowly on Jake's skin, tracing his abdomen, the strong muscles in his chest.
His golden eyes were dark as he sank his nails in Jake's flesh, just above his heart. Jake gave a ferocious hiss, but held still. He gritted his teeth as Liam's hand moved down, steady, tearing the skin apart with agonizing slowness. Then, Liam's palm was pressed against the wound, and coolness was seeping in Jake's flesh, erasing the pain. He glanced down as Liam removed his hand. Three red scars slashed across the black triangle.
Liam leaned down to kiss him, wet and deep and utterly debauched. "Take off my clothes," he said.
Jake reached for him, his fingers shaking, glad to comply.
Jake's hands were no longer trembling as he traced the planes of Liam's chest, his neck, his mouth; he pulled him close, smiling against his lips before claiming them in another kiss. He reached down, his hand between Liam's legs. He pressed two fingers against him, massaging him slowly, listening to the fox's shameless moans as he relaxed, opening up to him. Jake groaned at the feeling. "Damn it, fox..."
Liam's thighs were strong around his hips as he guided himself inside, one painstaking inch at a time, robbed of his breath as he felt Liam's flesh give way and surround him, damn near scorching. He pushed until he couldn't anymore and stilled, pleasure seeping through his bloodstream, rising to his head. He was unable to stop looking at Liam, flushed and panting and beautiful under him, eyes closed as he tried to adjust. Jake vaguely thought he shouldn't do this, couldn't allow himself to fall for the stupid, infuriating fox, but Liam was arching against him, a deep moan on his lips, hands clasped on Jake's shoulders. Jake could do nothing but swallow a growl, move back, and then push into him, hard, shuddering at Liam's broken gasp.
Liam's fingers pressed on his skin as he moved; the fox moaned, hitched his legs higher, arching under Jake's thrusts as they grew bolder, deeper, harder. He slit his eyes open, fiery golden, and murmured, "More..."
Jake lifted himself and sat back on his haunches, knees spread on the cold blanket. He gripped Liam's thighs, pulling him close, pumping into him. He drank in the sight of Liam shifting under his thrusts, his lean body almost radiant in the darkness, his cock leaking on his skin.
>
Liam let his head drop back as he panted and called him, "Jake," as he reached to stroke himself. "Jake..."
He went down on one elbow, desperate to kiss his way down Liam's throat, desperate to be closer. His free fingers were on Liam's jaw, the corner of his mouth. Liam moaned under him; plump, bitten-red lips parting to reveal the gleam of white teeth,the tip of a pink tongue. Jake couldn't hold back a strangled growl as pleasure sizzled through his nerves like wildfire. He hooked his hand under Liam's thigh and pushed it up. He buried his face against Liam's neck, teeth gritted as he thrust deep, once, twice, and Liam was writhing under him, moaning loud and deep against Jake's hair. Jake choked as he felt Liam's flesh tighten around him, the sudden warmth against his abdomen. Liam's skin was glowing, a faint golden light in the dark room. Liam's nails dug into his shoulder and Jake was coming deep within Liam's body, gasping and shuddering, Liam's name on his lips.
The morning light was gray. It seeped in through the window, dull and oppressing. Jake grimaced as he tied the laces of his boots. Just the right atmosphere for a borderline-suicidal mission.
Liam had left over an hour before, headed to the lab area with the vanguard of the foxes. They'd scout the place and arrange the last details of the plan, then take position and keep watch until dusk. That's when the others would join and the raid would begin.
Jake had provided Liam with some extra data about the layout of the lab and their weapon system. It was outdated, of course, but he believed it might still be relevant. He knew for a fact innovation wasn't the militia's strong point. He would leave with the second squad.
He was shrugging into his jacket, mentally retracing the route they'd need to take to avoid detection, when the door was unceremoniously banged open.
"Liam's not here," he said, barely sparing a glance.
"Oh, but we're not looking for Liam," a familiar voice replied. "We wanna have a couple of words with you, big guy."
Slowly, Jake turned around, his jaw clenched. Ethan was standing in the doorway, his buddies by his side. Shit. "Speak."
"Not in here," Ethan said, his lips curling up in an empty smile. "Come outside."
Jake crossed his arms, leaning back against the cold stove. "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, feel free to leave."
Ethan's smile faded. He stepped inside, followed by his minions. There were six of them. They moved slowly, their eyes never leaving Jake. Jake didn't react as they surrounded him, quietly calculating how many he would be able to bring down, trying to gauge who would be the first to attack. "What do you want, Ethan?"
"Just to have a chat. Between friends."
"Sure." Jake snorted a laugh. "You had to wait until Liam was out of the way just to come and have a chat. Isn't that pathetic?"
They all leaped together. Jake was swift to crouch, dodging their fists. He lashed out with his leg, causing two foxes to topple to the ground, and kept low as he landed a few short straight-punches in somebody's liver. Someone was on his back, arms winding around his neck. Jake's head snapped to the side as Ethan landed an unexpected cross. With a growl, he jerked back and surged in an uppercut that sent the fox flying against the wall. Shielding his head, Jake swiped his arm; an arc of bright electricity lashed through the air, bringing down another two foxes.
"Grab him!" Ethan shouted. "Put it on!"
And someone was again clawing at Jake's back. A stout, black-haired fellow punched him in the face once, twice, as his arms were twisted painfully back. Something metallic closed around Jake's wrists, so tight it made the bones creak. Suddenly, his strength was sucked out of him and he was left gasping desperately for oxygen, his muscles spasming painfully as they were drained by an unknown force.
His legs almost gave out. The foxes grabbed him by the arms, pushing him violently toward the door. Still gasping, Jake stumbled, struggling without avail. He could feel his power roar and tumble through his veins, angry. He tried to strike out but couldn't. The iron manacles around his wrists burned like acid. God damn it! They had sealed his power in with some goddamned enchantment.
He was dragged outside and pushed into the middle of the street. A boot landed in the back of his knee, sending him tumbling forward. He landed on his knees, pushed down by clawed hands, his head jerked back by a fist tightened in his hair. Doors began to open at the commotion. Within moments, a small crowd had gathered, the foxes staring uncertainly, not quite willing to intervene.
"Ethan, what are you doing?" Someone stepped forward, reaching to grab Ethan's arm. "That's Liam's friend. He said we gotta leave him alone."
"Yeah," another voice called. "What the hell is going on?" An animated buzz spread through the crowd, the foxes shaking their head and muttering darkly. They didn't seem happy to see Liam's orders being challenged.
Ethan just raised his hands, turning to face his comrades. "Brothers! I understand your confusion. But listen and everything will be clear. My friend here," he said, pointing to a brown-haired fox, "has some extremely interesting news about Liam's friend. Francis, would you mind sharing with the rest of the class?"
Francis' face was dark. "I wasn't sure, at first." He took one step forward, leaning in to take a close look at Jake's features. "His face has changed. I still believed I could be wrong. But I am convinced now that I saw him fight. I would recognize that power, anywhere. I still carry its mark."
He rolled up his sleeves. The flesh of his arms was mangled, twisted in the old scars of what must have been deep burns. Jake's stomach clenched.
"I'm sure you don't remember, human," Francis continued. "But I can never forget. Your power set my clothes on fire. As I writhed in agony, your squad killed my three companions." His eyes narrowed to angry slits. "There's no use in denying it. You are fucking militia."
Well, damn.
An eerie silence fell on the crowd. Not even trying to hide his smirk, Ethan crouched in front of Jake. With one nail, he slit clean through the fabric of Jake's shirt, down to his heart.
"My, my. What do we have here?" He pushed the folds aside, revealing the ruined tattoo. Jake closed his eyes as he practically felt the surrounding foxes tense, low growls resounding in the air.
"It was a long time ago," Jake ground out. He very well knew it was useless. Liam may have believed him, but he doubted he'd be able to reason with an angry mob. "I am a different man."
"Because I'm sure going to believe you, murderer," Ethan spat. "You thought you were clever, didn't you? Thought you could fool us all, infiltrating here to spy on us. Well, some of us are not blind morons. Your little adventure is over."
"That's bullshit," Jake said. "It would be a suicide mission. Why would I ever--" He took a deep breath. Being rational wasn't going to work. He could hear the crowd getting restless, their growls growing deeper as they closed in. "Liam trusted me. He is a wise leader. You should trust his judgment."
Ethan's punch didn't catch him entirely by surprise. "Don't you speak his name to me," the fox hissed. "You may have fooled him with your pathetic tricks, but it sure as hell won't work with me."
Jake lifted his head. He could taste blood at the corner of his mouth.
"This scum is a spy. I warned Liam, but he wouldn't listen," Ethan was saying, addressing the crowd. "Our plan is fucked. He must have told his militia buddies everything; they'll be waiting for us. They know exactly when and where we'll be. We need to surprise them."
Jake could see a wild gleam in the fox's eyes. A shiver ran down his back. "No," he whispered.
"There's no choice. We must change our plan. We'll launch a surprise attack, one they won't expect. We'll be armed, we'll be merciless, and we'll bring the human scum down. They won't even know what hit them. Death to the militia!"
A choir of hoots welcomed his declaration.
Jake strained against his binds. "Don't be stupid," he said, his pulse racing. "You won't stand a chance against them. The lab is a fucking fortress; you won't even make it past the gates."
"For fuck's sake, Ethan," Jake roared. "Liam and the others are already there. His plan is the only hope you have. You can't just blow everything to hell. You're going to get everyone killed!"
Ethan turned his back on him, waving dismissively. Two muscular foxes grabbed Jake by the arms and tried to drag him away. Jake fought back, twisting, trying to get up and make his way to the bastard to bash some sense into his head. "You're making a mistake," he called, trying desperately to hide the panic in his voice. "You're sending your people to die! You're gonna kill them all!"
Strong hands grabbed him and held him down. A knee collided with his spine, sent him face down into the dirt. He gasped, tasting soil and blood as kicks landed on his ribcage, his kidneys. "They're gonna die," he rasped, choking when another kick forced all the air from his lungs. He coughed, spitting blood as his head pounded heavily. "They're gonna die!"
And then he couldn't speak--he couldn't goddamn breathe--as more blows landed on his body. He was dragged across the ground, his face pressed into the dust. The world flickered and dimmed and finally sank into a pool of inexorable darkness as he recited obsessively one single word in a desperate prayer.
Liam. Liam. Liam. Liam.
Jake sat on the floor of the cell, resting his head against the wall. His arms were still twisted behind his back, his wrists crushed by the manacles. His ribs hurt like motherfucking hell. He didn't care. He closed his eyes, feeling nauseous.
Liam.
He had no idea how much time had passed. The attack could begin any moment; Liam could be dying any moment. He could be dead already, and Jake wouldn't even know. The thought was driving him fucking insane. He'd been screaming, shouting warnings and insults at a guard that might have been at the other side of the door, but probably wasn't. Then, he'd just been whispering that Liam couldn't die, he couldn't die, over and over.
Wild Passions Page 4
