“It’s not that bad. You’re just—”
“Don’t you dare say I’m growing up.” He glared at the fae.
“I don’t doubt that you’re an adult, Travis, but remember, we never stop learning, and we never stop growing. If that happens, our lives are without worth.”
“Even you?”
Dylan nodded. His hair glinted. He didn’t bother glamouring anymore except in public. “Even me. I’ve learned more this past month than I’ve learned in years.”
“Like?”
“I am not immune to emotion.” He looked out the window of the car, watching the snowy landscape. “I have choices where I thought there were none.”
“What happened to you, Dylan? Who controls you?” A faint glow rose around the fae’s neck and wrists. The complex tattoos shone briefly and then faded. “You can’t answer that, can you?” He slowed the car to the side of the road. “I mean, you seriously cannot answer certain questions!” The marks returned to feeble life. How had he not noticed that before? “We can sit here, and if I ask you questions the rest of the night, I might figure out what’s up with you.”
“I’ve told you what I can.”
“About this geas thing.” He checked the mirror and eased the car back onto the road. “Shit.”
“The… It’s not as strong here in Arcada. That’s why I believe the rogues might recover as long as they remain here.”
“But if they leave? Dead meat, right?”
“Well, back under control of the demon.”
Travis bit down hard, praying the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth, but of course they did. That was inevitable. “Are you controlled by a demon?”
“No, I’m not. And if you can’t just drive, I’ll be glad to take the wheel.”
Travis snorted.
“You have such a busy mind.”
“Yeah, well, you seem to occupy it most of the time.” He glanced over at Dylan and leered.
“Horndog.”
“Dirty old man.”
“Puppy.”
Finally Dylan laughed—a good, rich, warm sound—and Travis laughed too. The sound made him think of summer and green grass and peaches when they ripened on the tree. His heart ached, because the man he used to be—
He stopped laughing. “You said you once had red hair.” He’d seen Dylan with red hair. He’d seen him…before the fae ever confided that little tale about his past. Another dream? Why did it feel like memory?
“It was dark red. When I see someone with red hair—”
“You wonder if they’re your family.”
Dylan nodded; the smile faded from his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Whatever it is that happened to you, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s the past.”
“Maybe someday you’ll meet your family again. Maybe…”
Dylan looked away quickly, the pain on his face clear and plain. He had no hope. He didn’t believe. Once again, Travis thought of his family, how he’d feel if they were out of his reach forever. It was what Dylan experienced for so many years. And he’d given them up for a selfless purpose.
Was it worth leaving with Dylan if it meant losing all else he loved? Because only for love would he be willing to step out into the world, unprotected and alone, save for the fae.
He looked at the icy road before him, wishing his future was as clear. Instead, it might be just as dangerous as black ice lying in wait for an unwary traveler.
Chapter 19
Doing his best to stay out of the way, Dylan watched the controlled chaos of the Blacque family as they celebrated Christmas Eve. The celebration started early in the day, as food was prepared, a massive tree decorated, and dozens of brightly wrapped gifts manifested under the spreading branches of the fir. The house was redolent with a tapestry of scents, from roasting turkey to spiced cider.
The most heart-wrenching moment of the day was the impromptu caroling. Pack members gathered around a piano, Travis brought out a guitar, and music was made. He saw Blacque give Travis a nod, and the entire group descended the stairs to the basement. They threw open the doors to the rogues’ cells and serenaded the men with song after song.
Before anyone was served their dinner, Dylan, James, and Travis carried loaded plates to the men, pretending not to notice reddened eyes and trembling hands.
Deacon and Brenden were gaining ground—tense but no longer in physical and mental anguish. Calum was slightly improved as well, sitting up to eat as James assisted him.
The meal itself was a balm to Dylan’s soul. It wasn’t the food or drink that affected him, but the contrast of his lonely Thanksgiving to this joyous celebration. For the night he set aside the torment of his departure and simply enjoyed, letting the celebration draw him into the past, when the entire village gathered for harvest feasts and other celebrations.
There were many children among the pack, several of them with Dane Blacque’s ebony locks and obsidian eyes. Others had different parentage, but the common thread was their passion for climbing Blacque’s legs and perching on his feet as he walked, elaborately ignoring the giggling passengers.
Like Dylan, April and Oliver Bleu stayed to the fringes, watching, their eyes showing gratitude for finally finding a place to belong. They weren’t pack, but there was no doubt they belonged to the pack. Their very nature made them loners, but Dylan got the feeling the Bleus were from a family with deep ties.
Gifts were distributed and opened, and to his surprise, a brightly wrapped box landed on his lap. A few minutes later another came his way. Dylan’s cheeks grew warm in embarrassment. One box was from Drusilla and Lukas. Inside was a cashmere scarf, presumably to replace the one ruined when the wolves attacked. Instead of his normal gray or black, this one was a rich, deep blue, the exact color of Travis’s eyes. He rubbed it and noticed how absolutely soft and decadent the fabric was.
The second box was from Melody. He opened it to find a single silver acorn dangling from an earring hoop, and it brought a smile to his face.
“What?” Travis examined the earring. “Wow. Cool.” He glanced over and winked at his mother.
Dylan leaned over and spoke quietly to Melody. “When I was young, I often wore a necklace similar to this. I took the biggest acorn I could find and tied the cap to a leather thong. When the cap gave way, I planted the seed in the sunniest spot in the forest.” He smiled and slipped the earring into his ear, then kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”
“I heard you talk about your Homewood once. The acorn made me think of you. Your ears are so beautiful.” She flushed, and he laughed gently. It was nice to be around people he could be himself with.
“This is from me.” Travis thrust a small box into his hand. Before opening it, Dylan reached back and pulled out a box he’d hidden from Travis. It was large and unwieldy, and the shifter had to drag it to the floor to wrestle it open. When he pulled away the paper and opened the box, Travis sat back on his heels, staring at the contents.
Dylan had recruited Drusilla to shop for him, purchasing every conceivable item at the art supply shop that Travis could want. There were paints, pads, and canvases. Sculpting clay and tools. On the top of it all was a bundle of college and scholarship applications. That would be Drusilla’s unique contribution to the package.
His other gift for Travis had more meaning and would be given to him privately.
Dylan slowly unwrapped the package Travis had given him, smiling in abstraction as his hands trembled slightly. He opened the box and stared down at the items displayed on white velvet.
“I know you don’t like people seeing the tattoos, even though they’re invisible most of the time. And I know in some circles, cuffs like that mean something else, but…” Travis trailed off.
Dylan lifted a black leather bracelet and examined it. It was wide enough to cover the mark of the geas, and the top was ornamented with a silver disk in the shape of the moon. The matching bracelet bore a silver wolf, stretched out and running. Speec
hlessly he held his arms out and let Travis fasten the exquisite cuffs to his wrists.
“Kell made this a while ago.”
“But you designed it.” He looked at Travis, who flushed deeply.
“What can I say? I had a dream.” He shrugged. “Maybe I knew you were coming.”
Dylan pulled him close and pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you, little wolf. You know my heart better than I do.”
“I guess I should say the same thing about you.” He gestured to the art supplies. “If it had been anyone but you, I’d return them.”
“Then I’m glad it was me.”
They stared at each other for an endless moment, ignoring the noise and commotion surrounding them. A nudge at his leg distracted him, and Dylan looked down. A little boy balanced at his knee; he was barely old enough to walk. Dylan lifted him onto his lap, surprised at how simple and natural it was to hold a child in his arms once again.
He felt a tug on his head, and when he turned, he found a pair of preteen girls pulling at his hair. One had a comb; the other was busy braiding. Travis choked back a laugh until one of the hair artists started on him as well. Dylan sighed in resignation, moving his head back to give them more access.
“They have no boundaries, do they?”
“None at all. Now sit still and hope they don’t find scissors anywhere.” So Dylan set aside his plans to pack and depart just a few hours down the road. There was laughter and talking, some discreet drinking, and as the time grew later, the crowd thinned. When Travis was pulled away for kitchen duty, Dylan retrieved a box from the trunk of his car and carried it downstairs. After he quickly packed his suitcase, he opened the box. He lifted away all the keepsakes and found the hidden sheaf of paperwork he was looking for. He drafted a letter with paper he’d borrowed from Dane, folded it neatly around the packet, and slipped it into the box, which he tucked under the bed.
“Hey.”
He looked up and smiled at Travis. Now that his path was clear, his heart felt lighter than it had in ages. Granted, he felt grief and was sure it showed in his face, but being on the right side of wrong gave him a sense of peace.
“Hey.” He had to smile. One of Travis’s cousins had pulled his wolf’s hair into a high ponytail on the back of his head. It could have looked silly, but instead it revealed the exquisite lines of his face and jaw, showing that Travis was not only a pretty boy, but a handsome man. Dylan held out his hand, and Travis took it, then lowered himself to the bed. He sighed and gave Dylan such a look that his heart ached.
“This might have been the best Christmas ever.” He leaned on Dylan’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since I felt like I had a place in the family.”
“I’m sure your place has always been there. You simply didn’t claim it.”
“Maybe. But I think it’s Michella’s baby that made me look at things differently. She and Lukas made an agreement. Once the baby is born, he’ll surrender all rights to it. She’s been rubbing it in lately. Don’t know why, other than she’s just being insecure.”
“Or a bitch.”
Travis laughed. “That too. Lukas usurped her position. But that’s no reason to cut all of us from the baby’s life. And you know, she scares me, especially now, but I told her the baby might be hers, but it belongs to us all. Blacque may or may not want to be a dad, but Dane aches for a grandchild.” He slipped his hand into Dylan’s and laced their fingers together. “So it’s her son or daughter, but that little baby has a much bigger family than she wants to admit. When I told her that, I realized I’m part of that big, messy family too.”
“And it felt good.”
“Yeah. It did.”
“Maybe you’re just—”
“Don’t say it!”
Dylan said it anyway. “Growing up, Travis.”
“Okay, I concede that possibility. But last year when Lukas claimed Oliver, he changed. He started working with the pack, trying to get along better with Dane. He grew up too, and he’s nearly a decade older than I am.” He looked at Dylan. “I guess you were right—we never stop growing and changing.”
“Exactly. I don’t see you as a child, Travis. You are young, but not a boy.”
“That’s what you call me.” A smile hovered on his face, and Dylan glanced away, fighting a smile of his own.
“I call you a lot of things. That’s the way lovers speak.”
“Lovers.” Travis put a hand on the side of Dylan’s face. He kissed him as he drew Dylan down to the bed. Once there, he carefully arranged the snow-white hair across the pillow. “Lover.” Another kiss. Dylan didn’t feel the need to take control this time. He looked up at the shifter and watched as Travis knelt, gazing down at him. He untucked Dylan’s silk shirt, carefully unbuttoned it, then opened it wide. He touched, dragging his fingers up and then back down, using his thumbs to circle Dylan’s nipples.
It felt good—almost too good. For so long he’d taken control from his lovers. Maybe because the sensation of someone else’s touch was too intimate, too painfully sweet. Yes, Travis was arousing him, but Dylan felt as though his skin was soaking in the pleasure, the intimacy of it waking the hardened core of his heart.
He didn’t want it to happen. He had to let it happen. He couldn’t walk away from Travis without giving him this one small gift.
“I love you, little wolf.” Those words cost him everything.
Travis paused, and his eyes grew dark with emotion. “I love you too, old man.”
They remained that way, staring at each other, both knowing it was the end. Or the beginning. Because nothing ever really ended, not when the heart beat and the soul lived on. The journey might change, but it never stopped completely.
Travis finally moved. He undressed Dylan till he lay naked on the sheets. He stripped and lowered himself over Dylan’s body. He paused, looking for permission, and then continued without it. The dynamic had shifted. This wasn’t about dominance; it was all about submission. Gripping the flimsy headboard, Dylan focused on the touch of Travis’s hands, his mouth. He bit lightly and then kissed tenderly. He explored, his hand encircling Dylan’s ankle, soft, searing kisses traveling the length of his thigh. Dylan shuddered when warm breath bathed his cock before moving up to caress his stomach.
His erection lay like a weight on his belly, and with every touch on his skin, every murmur in his ear, he grew tighter, his precum a steady trickle from his glans. When he thought he could take no more, Travis cupped his balls. He buried his face in Dylan’s groin and gently mouthed his shaft.
Dylan’s hips jumped, and to his abject humiliation, it took only that touch to send him over the edge, and he cried out, digging his nails into the cheap wooden headboard. It was so fast, they were so unprepared that his semen spattered onto Travis’s cheek, then dripped down to his jaw.
Instead of teasing him, the young man seemed to understand, and he calmly, patiently stroked Dylan, letting him come down from the physical and emotional high. Once Dylan found his control, the tender invasion began again—lips and hands, tender kisses and firm touch. Again he surrendered and before too long was rising again, his body in complete and utter harmony with Travis’s wishes—and with his own heart.
Travis stretched out over his body, covering him, and pinned Dylan to the mattress with his weight. With a sigh Dylan wrapped his arms around the shifter. He offered his neck as Travis nuzzled his throat, drawing his tongue along the line of Dylan’s pulse. When the shifter’s tongue drew up the edge of his ear, Dylan cried out.
“Careful of the silver,” he reminded Travis, who nodded and then blew lightly where he’d just licked. He caught the acorn earring between his teeth and tugged gingerly.
“You’ll have to switch to gold. White gold.” Travis looked down into his eyes, a smile curving his lips. “Or platinum. I like that. The ring my mother gave you is gold-plated. That’s why it didn’t burn me.” He bent to kiss Dylan’s brow, then his nose, and finally reached his lips.
The boy knew
how to kiss. He nibbled, then sucked on Dylan’s upper lip. He brushed lightly, licked the seam of his mouth and then went deeper, tasting, their tongues meeting and then retreating.
“You’re beautiful as a dream, Dylan.” Another kiss and he cupped Dylan’s face in his work-roughened hand. Down below, their hips thrust, lazily keeping a tempo that matched their kisses. He kissed Dylan a bit more insistently and straightened his arm to raise himself higher. He broke the kiss and looked down their bodies, and he groaned as they both watched their cocks squeezed together on Dylan’s belly.
“I never thought something like that would be such a turn-on!” He flashed an embarrassed grin and thrust harder.
“Imagine the sight of your cock pushing into my body.”
Travis gasped, and his back arched. He gave a shaky laugh. “Nearly had me there, D. But I’m on top this time.”
“So you are.” Dylan ran a hand over the shifter’s muscular ass, then drove his fingers down his crack. He skimmed over his anus and stroked the velvety skin of his testicles. Travis shuddered.
“Are you afraid, boy?”
Travis lightly smacked the side of his ass. “No topping from the bottom, elf!”
“You did not just call me ‘elf.’”
Travis grinned at him cheekily. “I coulda called you a fairy.”
Quickly Dylan rolled him onto his back and pinned him. “Really?”
Travis grunted at the sudden shift in position. “Okay, okay…point taken. Let me back on top.”
Dylan thought about refusing. He thought about ropes and bindings and a red satin blindfold. Instead he changed positions and rolled to his back.
“Are you letting me?”
“Yes. This time.” Inwardly he winced. There would be no other times. Once the boy was asleep…
Travis jerked him from that train of thought when he swallowed his cock.
“F-fuck!” How’d he learn that so quickly? Dylan held on to the mattress, breathing through his nose. No way was he coming so soon. Not again. With a gasp Travis came up, unmistakably pleased, his face flushed.
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