“Who told you that bit of information? Fellow shifter pals behind the school bike sheds?” A blush tinged David’s cheeks.
Anger? Embarrassment?
“My parents.” Warwick drank some more tea. “They’re open and honest—like me. Say it how it is, no messing around. I find it’s easier that way, don’t you think? At least you’ll know where you stand with me.”
“I see. And what if I don’t want to be your bloody mate?” David sounded stroppy, a kid who couldn’t get his own way.
Understandable in the circumstances, but Warwick wasn’t fond of that type of attitude. He’d give David time, though. This had to have been a shock to him—Warwick being here and telling him what he had—and maybe, with David obviously being brought up with parents who hadn’t shared things with him like he was an equal… Didn’t take much to work out that David might well be an adult but may have immature tendencies. Warwick would soon help him with that.
One thing at a time…
“You haven’t got much choice,” Warwick said. “And neither have I, so it isn’t just you who has to come to terms with it, you know.”
That should bring David out of his funk. A swift reminder that this wasn’t all about David had been in order as far as Warwick was concerned.
“Sorry,” David said. “This is all so…sudden. I’m not usually petulant.”
“Not a problem. At the moment.” Warwick smiled. “Nice tea, this.” He raised his cup. “You make a good brew, I’ll give you that much.”
“How can you switch subjects so easily when…? Fucking hell.” David gazed at the floor tiles.
Was he seeing them, though? Or were images and questions darting around in his head and he was seeing those instead? If so, what was he visualizing? Warwick would know once they’d mated. They’d share thoughts. He looked forward to it, especially being able to speak telepathically.
Does David not know anything about that either?
“Things’ll work out.” Warwick crossed his legs at the ankles, wondering if what he’d said was him convincing himself as well as David.
“And if they don’t?” David blinked a few times.
“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it. No point in worrying about the future when we have today to get through first.” A good life philosophy, that. Warwick silently thanked his parents for instilling it in him.
“How can you be so…so sodding calm? I mean, you’re my mate—apparently—my sister talks to you in your dreams—apparently—and I’m a Superior—”
“Apparently.” Warwick grinned. “Yeah, I get it. A lot to take in. But it is what it is, and we just have to get on with it.”
“But killing someone. Idaline… Even if she is just a devil-thing, it’s still murder, isn’t it?” David let out a shuddering sigh. “I killed my sister and I’ve hated myself for it ever since, so killing someone else, too? I don’t think I can.”
“A dangerous devil, is Idaline. And get this—we have to kill her with a crumpled sword.”
“What?” David’s forehead collapsed into a heap of wiggly lines. “What the hell is one of those?”
“Fucked if I know just yet. I’m waiting for my Angel to let me know by dropping the information in my head if he has a mind.” Warwick smiled. “But we might have fun trying to find it.”
“Fun?” More wiggly lines.
Oh. David was a stick-in-the-mud, was he? Someone who had to have things orderly and well-explained—things had to make perfect sense before he could accept them? He’d have a hard job coping with finding the sword and doing Idaline over, then.
And Warwick would have a job convincing the bloke that what they had to do was of the utmost importance. That the Angels were counting on them. Other people’s destinies were in their hands.
But he wouldn’t impart that gem just yet. Overload was never a good thing.
Chapter Three
A crumpled fucking sword? What in the hell was one of those, eh? And as for Rachel contacting Warwick in his sleep… All this would take a lot of getting used to. As would supposedly being a Superior and having to defeat Idaline. And her being a type of devil—how were they meant to overthrow someone like that? Could she disappear, do magic tricks? What? Could she even be seen? It would be near impossible to kill something that was invisible. And that sword. Where was it, and how could they even begin to start looking for it when they didn’t know where to go? Unless Warwick knew where it was—or his Angel told him at some point later on.
And The Objective. That was creepy, wasn’t it? Man, his whole life mapped out in some book or other? Did it contain everything he’d ever done as well as what he was destined to do? The thought of Angels knowing exactly what he did at any given time…
Sex. Did they watch him have sex? Watch him jack off?
So many unanswered questions.
“So what do we do now?” David asked—another bloody question but ho hum. “I came back here to search for my parents then find out who killed them, only to discover it’s apparently some mad bitch who wants to kill me next. Everything you’ve told me… It’s too much. I can’t be expected to go gallivanting off with you while I’m still processing what you’ve said.”
“Oh, that’s no problem. We have a little time to find the sword. The Angel said so long as we have it in our hands before midnight tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow?” David’s blood ran cold, and it was like his veins had frozen, his skin going clammy, too. “How the fuck are we meant to find it so quickly? Do you even know where it is?”
Warwick shrugged.
That shrug didn’t look too good. Combined with the grimace altering Warwick’s face to something that belonged in a scary movie, David didn’t have much faith in their mission. And it was a mission, no doubt about that. One he was prepared to take part in?
I’ve got no choice. Either I do this thing or die.
So Warwick says…
The warring voices in his head didn’t help much, bringing indecision to the plate. A plate that was already brimming with things he couldn’t digest. And what about—?
Just ask him.
“So, do we mate before we find the sword or what?” That sounded pretty forward, but what else was he supposed to have asked? It wasn’t every day you got told your mate was sitting there and you had to shag him at some point, otherwise you might find yourself walking over the rainbow bridge before you expected to. Jesus, he hadn’t fucked in a long time, so that in itself was cause for his nerves to jangle with twangs that prickled his skin and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
He felt sick and well out of sorts.
“I was just about to come to that,” Warwick said.
Come…
David shivered at the word—or it might have been those frozen veins of his—and that word now resounded inside his head and brought on illicit images that would give him a bulge in his pants if he didn’t watch himself. Just what he needed—I don’t think so. “Um…it’s just that I haven’t…done anything for ages.”
“Me neither. Not felt the urge.” Warwick shrugged.
David was quickly realizing this bloke was amazing to be able to hide any feelings he might be having. Unless he wasn’t having any. But surely he was. Or did he adopt that laid-back air in everything he did?
Imagining how sex would be with him, David shivered again. Would it be all languid strokes and slow thrusts? Soft kisses and tender touches? Or did Warwick change in the sack and turn into some greedy expert lover who knew exactly what he wanted and fucked hard like there was no tomorrow?
“I don’t usually do casual,” David said. “So this is all new to me.”
“I’ve only ever done casual. Reckoned while I was waiting for my mate, sex was just an itch to scratch, if you get me.”
“So we’re opposites.”
“And they attract.”
Warwick’s stare had David’s legs going weak. There was more to him with regards to sex, as David had suspected. Coul
d he handle someone who was full-on in bed? He’d only ever been with men who had been gentle. Yet in the past he’d felt something was missing, that no matter how satisfying his orgasms were, the foreplay was…boring? Not enough of it?
Not rough enough? Not hard enough?
God, don’t even go there…
“And we,” Warwick said, “will be far from casual, so it’ll be new to me, to stick with one bloke for the rest of my life.” He stared, his gaze penetrating and intrusive, as though he was peering into David’s soul. “And it will be for life, mark my words. You may well have to help me with how relationships go. Never had one.”
David gave a smile he hoped looked confident, although his words prior to Warwick’s had been far from that. David had revealed even more about himself—and wasn’t that weird how talking to Warwick was easier than speaking to anyone else? Was that part of being mates? Bloody hell, he’d have to ask. He couldn’t go into this blind.
“Explain this mate thing to me?” How was it he could feel so lost yet so safe at the same time? Had he really only met Warwick a few minutes ago? His head clouded with the fullness of it, where all the questions, insecurities and fear milled about like aimless people in an overcrowded market.
“It’ll be like we’ve always been together, so my dad said. None of that pre-sex nerves business you get with other people,” Warwick said.
“So you get nervous before sex?” That was interesting.
“Me? No. I was saying it because I have a feeling you do. Like you’re nervous now and we haven’t even got close. Touched. Kissed.”
Warwick ought to stop that kind of talk. David was getting uncomfortable down below. A knot formed in his belly, hard and intrusive, and he rubbed his midsection, hoping it would ease the tension.
It didn’t.
“Um…” Unsure what to do with himself, David turned to the sink and started running the hot water. After squeezing in detergent, he washed a dish.
“I find it sexy watching a man do housework.”
Oh.
“That’s nice.” Stupid answer or what, but David was at a loss as to how to respond to someone so…’with it’. Someone so in tune with himself. What he’d give to be that confident and self-assured. Maybe, given time, he’d grow to be like Warwick? Feed off the man’s aura or whatever the hell he projected? Learn his ways? Life would be so much easier that way, he reckoned.
“Nice?” Warwick asked. “It’s more than nice. It’s damn well giving me an erection.”
Oh, God…
“Uh…” David owned a piece of rock in his boxers himself but wasn’t about to admit it. “Where is the sword?”
“A hard bit of steel in my jeans,” Warwick said, his voice all kinds of rough.
“The crumpled one,” David said in an attempt to move the conversation away from being rude.
Warwick released a juddering breath. Whispered, “Fuck…” then, “It isn’t crumpled—my cock, that is.”
David sighed. He wasn’t used to this kind of chat, expressing his feelings or joking about sex. In the past it had been something discussed in the darkness of a bedroom—and firmly beneath the covers, his back to his partner. This discussion, in a kitchen with broad daylight streaming through the window? No, he’d never done this before.
He looked through the pane of glass above the sink—no flapping washing on the line today, the garden alien without it, as he’d grown up seeing clothes hanging out there every day of the summer. He spied the summit of High Ford Peak, finding it difficult to even remember hiking up there earlier. It felt like another day entirely—and today, his time with Warwick, felt like it had been going on forever.
Another result of being with your mate?
“Cat got your tongue?” Warwick asked.
Shuffling sounds came from where Warwick sat, and David stood stock still, expecting the man to walk over and stand next to him. The seconds seemed to stretch on and on, and with no Warwick by his side and the shuffling noise still happening, he turned to look at him.
What the bloody hell?
Warwick’s cock jutted through the slit in his black boxers, his jeans wide open. He had his fingers curled around it, and the shuffling noise was the side of his hand brushing denim with every up-and-down glide. And that cock… It was thick, the head bulging, a few hairs peeking out around the base, darker than the hair on his head, and coarse-looking, the type that would tickle yet rasp on David’s chin if he sucked that dick right down the back of his—
David’s face grew hot. Too hot—as was the sight of Warwick jacking off. Who did that? Who sat there playing with himself in front of a man he’d only just met?
“Um…that’s well inappropriate, man,” David managed.
“It seems natural. With you.” Warwick gave a lazy smile. “Like I can’t help it. Like I need to do this so you’ll get your arse over here then I can shove my cock into it.”
“Christ…” David dragged his gaze away to concentrate on the cup that bobbed in the water, begging to be washed next. He did so, his hand shaking as he dumped the china upside down on the drainer. It clanged on the plastic and he winced. Grabbed a tea towel and dried his hands. Fled from the kitchen and up the stairs to get as much space between him and his so-called mate as possible.
In the bathroom, he ran some water—cold—then splashed his face. Jesus. How was he going to get over this? Or through it, seeing as that was his only option? Hiding up here was just delaying things. He should have stayed downstairs and let Warwick do whatever it was he had in mind.
Whatever?
Yes. David could admit, without knowing much about Warwick, that he’d let the bloke do whatever he liked. Warmth pervaded his whole body, loosening his veins, and his toes tingled at the sound of footsteps in the hallway below. He hastily dried his face then rested his hands on the sink edge while gazing down at the plug hole.
The footsteps—well, they were coming up the sodding stairs now, and he had to take deep and calming breaths. He was going to get well and truly fucked, he knew that, yet he still struggled to compute how fast things had gone. A short while ago he’d spied through the floorboards and had seen a man in his parents’ kitchen. Now he’d run from that man, who was intent on shagging him so they were bonded, and David was waiting for the next move in this insane game.
Except it wasn’t a game, and he was about to embark on the rest of his life. What they had yet to do set his future years in stone—or in The Objective, he reckoned—and he felt as though there was no stopping it.
The footsteps halted, at the bathroom doorway, he guessed, and the shuffling noise began once more. David could well imagine Warwick with his hand around his dick again, jerking away as though he did that kind of thing all the time. Natural, he’d said. So how come David didn’t find it natural? Why did Warwick appear to have all the mate feelings in place and David didn’t?
“If you’d just open your mind up to the fact we’re destined to be bonded, it’ll be easier,” Warwick said.
The shuffling stopped. Four more footsteps, then Warwick’s arms were around him from behind, hands splayed on David’s chest, his hard-on digging into David’s arse cheek. David’s cock expanded then, straining to be free, and his body relaxed, as if Warwick’s touch had calmed him in ways David would never achieve on his own. There was breath—breath on his nape. Warm, tea-scented.
“This is all so sudden,” David said.
He jolted at a kiss on the side of his neck. While Warwick’s lips were soft, it seemed prickles radiated from them, into David, flooding his body as though they’d multiplied once inside him. It was a sensation unlike any other, and it took his breath away. He let the feeling overtake him, went with it instead of fighting. And he couldn’t fight if he tried. This, what was happening, was too strong to ignore.
“You feel that, don’t you?” Warwick whispered against his skin.
David nodded. Couldn’t trust himself to speak.
“And you want more of it. Mor
e of me.” Warwick pressed his lips to David’s neck again. “And there it is, running through you, a yearning for million pieces of me to flood you. Already. Without fucking. Without biting. Without bonding. Imagine what it’ll be like when it’s all over. When I’ve fucked your sweet, tight arse and soaked it with cum. Imagine it, David.”
Oh, he could imagine it all right—the cock in his arse—but not the million pieces transferring into him. He was just about coping with things now, so later? During then after? He’d be a puddle of sated man on the floor.
“I can’t,” he said.
“You can. And you will. This isn’t enough. I want more. I need more.” Warwick kissed his neck again. “And I’m going to get it.”
Chapter Four
They were stripped of clothing in no time, Warwick eager to mate—more eager than he’d ever been to have sex before. It was like some kind of force had taken him over, urging him to stick his cock into David and claim him as soon as possible. To own. To have them belong to each other forever, their bond unbreakable.
The tender side of Warwick wanted to take things slowly, though, for David’s sake, but try as he might to extinguish those whispers telling him to claim, claim, claim, he knew he was going to give in and go at it quickly. There wasn’t any other choice. His wolf was fighting to be in charge, and Warwick knew he’d be powerless to deny its request.
“I want you so much,” he whispered, smoothing his hands down David’s back then up to his shoulders. He cupped them, gripped, and dug his nails in.
“Oh, God. I’ve never felt… Not like this.” David shuddered. “Who knew it could be this way? I dreamed of it, wanted it, but never thought I’d get it.”
“You’ve got it now. Maybe more than you can handle. More than even I can handle. It’s strong inside me, the need to have you. So strong it hurts.”
The Crumpled Sword Page 3
