by Zoe Perdita
The words stung, and he didn’t really mean them. Not entirely. Tyler was like a brother to him more than anything else. And Davis was, well, Davis.
“Yeah. I—how is he?” Davis asked and set the wine bottle down with a clink that sounded louder than it should have.
“Fine. He was arrested for shoplifting again. No biggie,” Ken said.
Davis’s jaw clenched, and he nodded. “Look. I’ll talk to him. Okay? That’s all I can do. I can’t promise he’ll listen to me.”
Ken laughed. Short and bitter. “Oh, he won’t! But he’s better. Clean for two years. You know things were bad after your dad died, but when your mom went it just got worse. He needed you.”
Davis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. I know. Is this going to turn into a lecture because I don’t need another one of those. If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. It’s just. . . I get back into Haven and you’re the first person I wanted to see. Don’t tell Ty. I want to see him too, but I thought you’d be glad I was back.”
Ken squeezed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath through his nose. Davis Harrison everyone. Guilt tripper extraordinaire. And it worked. Ken’s stomach did a stupid juvenile backflip at those words. If Davis told Ken that in high school, he’d have convinced himself it was true love. That they really were mates and years of a fruitless crush finally meant something. Now, Ken shoved the sensation aside. “I – I’m just tired. It was a long day, and I have work tomorrow. You surprised me. I wish you called.”
“Maybe I wanted to surprise you,” Davis said with a smile.
Ken shook his head and glanced at the duffel bag next to the front door. It was as beat up as Davis’s jacket. “Do you have someplace to stay?”
“Nope. Is this a two bedroom? It’s really nice. But I always thought you’d want a house in the suburbs.”
“Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. It’s a one bedroom, but you can take the couch. Let me get you a blanket,” Ken said, voice as sharp as he could make it.
Davis flinched, and it should’ve felt more satisfying than it did.
Ken flitted through his cupboards, gathered a few things and set the bundle on the couch. “Put the sheet down before you sleep. I don’t want your musk ruining the leather. Here’s a towel if you want to shower. Bathroom is down the hall. There’s an extra toothbrush, brand new, in the cupboard. Please use that.”
Davis nodded. “Thanks.”
Then, as Ken turned to leave, a strong hand snagged his shoulder. He tensed under the grip. It’d been so long. And the last time – oh fuck! The last time he made such a fool of himself. He took a breath through his nose. “Tell me one thing. Are you staying for good or not?”
“I’m not leaving this time. I promise,” Davis said, his voice gruff and rich. It seeped into Ken’s skin, and he felt like he could drink it.
Ken nodded tightly and slipped out of Davis’s grasp. He stepped into his room and shut the door, leaned against it, and balled his hands into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. He wanted to believe Davis, but after everything that happened Ken knew the painful truth.
That alpha abandoned the wolves who were supposed to be his pack. His promises meant nothing.
Ken trudged to the bed and climbed under the covers. His mouth tasted like salami and wine, but he wouldn’t have gone back out there for anything. Well, maybe Davis naked in his bed – no!
He shook that thought away, and put a pillow over his head as the shower burst to life. Which meant Davis was naked and wet.
Damn.
Ken squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep.
Don’t think about Davis Harrison?
Now it really was impossible.
2
Mao was dead.
Davis wasn’t one to celebrate other people’s misfortune, but in the case of the crazy leader of the Tiger gang, he didn’t feel badly about it.
Mao was dead, which meant he could get his ass back to Haven City.
A dead tiger couldn’t come after him for a fifteen year old debt. Davis didn’t know how many times he thanked the moon Mao never found out who he really was. That would’ve put his family and, possibly even Ken, in danger with her gang. Plus, it wasn’t as if he could tell his best friend (and the wolf who was suppose to be his omega) that he was as much of a fuckup as everyone thought.
He proved them alright in his own way.
But now that the danger cleared, he waited a few months to be sure. Then he caught a bus and made his way home. Did he screw up in the past? Yeah, but who said he couldn’t fix things and make it right? Maybe not lead their pack, but at least see his brother again. Remind Ken what it was like to be buddies.
Only, Ken didn’t welcome Davis like he thought.
No, his best friend tried to slam the door in his face. While not uncommon (Ken was a little melodramatic at times. Or, he had been in high school), he didn’t have any reason for it now.
Well, besides the obvious. Which came out quickly enough.
Ken reminded Davis of all his mistakes.
Fuckup? Check.
Should’ve been there for Tyler when mom died? Yeah.
Abandoned everyone for mysterious reasons? Oh, he knew what he’d done.
Turns out, making things right may not be as easy as it seemed.
Well, at least Ken hadn’t kicked him out. But that couch wasn’t anywhere near comfortable, especially with the sheet slipping all over the place. Davis stared at the ceiling, draped in shadows and dappled with the streetlights that broke through the blinds, and fought the urge to take a deep breath. If he did, all he’d smell would be Ken.
And going back down that road was never a good idea.
His chest tightened, and he closed his eyes.
Tomorrow things would finally go his way.
Luck was on his side now. The bitch couldn’t be stacked against him forever.
He must’ve eventually fallen asleep, because the squawking of Ken’s alarm clock woke him. Davis rubbed his eyes and blinked at the room around him. The night before, he’d been high on his grand return, so much so that he hardly took the time to check out Ken’s place.
Hell, maybe Ken was right and Davis didn’t know him as well as he thought. The condo looked like something out of a magazine, besides the sheet that currently slid off the slick leather couch. Black and sleek with uncomfortable buttons in the pillows. A matching leather chair complimented it. The paintings on the walls looked expensive, but all art looked expensive to Davis, so he had no idea if that was the case or not.
The walls were painted light gray, which made the place look more like a fancy prison than a home. It’s not that he expected movie posters and beanbag chairs, but this was much nicer than anything Ken’s parents owned.
What did he do again? Something dull that involved money. Accounting. Right. Looked like it paid well enough if Ken could afford a place in this neighborhood.
Davis sat up and rubbed a hand over his hair. It stood on end, like it always did when he first got up, but he wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
Ken hadn’t emerged from his bedroom yet although the alarm stopped beeping.
Davis took the opportunity to relieve himself and splashed some water on his face. He almost used Ken’s razor the night before and thought better of it. If he was that picky about his toothbrush, he’d probably be pissed about sharing a razor too.
So Davis left the two-day old stubble on his cheeks and stepped into the kitchen. A quick glance in the refrigerator and through the cupboards told him enough. Ken had quite the wine collection. No beer. Not much food, but enough for eggs and sausage.
He planned to put on a pot of coffee, but Ken didn’t have a normal coffee maker. There was something with too many buttons and cranks. Some kind of espresso machine, and Davis decided not to break anything on his first day back.
Food would have to do. Ken never liked to admit it, but he had the appetite of a much larger wolf.
Ken fin
ally stepped out of his room, fully dressed, though his black hair was mussed. He wasn’t as scrawny as he’d been when they were kids. Not unusual. Davis put on muscle as well, but he didn’t expect it from an omega. Especially an omega who was always more of a pretty boy than anything else. Back in middle school Ken was mistaken for a girl because he kept his hair long and happened to be half-Japanese.
Now, Ken didn’t look feminine at all. He’d grown into those sharp cheekbones and the gentle curve of his jaw. His eyes weren’t dark like most wolves, but a bluish gray that looked more like a magic user instead. Strange, but that happened.
Even in that gray suit, Davis could see the strength in Ken’s back and shoulders. The hint of definition under his white oxford shirt. Slender but strong. Davis smiled at that thought.
Like usual, Ken looked younger than his thirty-two years. He always had, only now signs of age shown along the slant of his almond-shaped eyes and around his mouth, which pursed when he noticed what Davis was doing.
“Where are your clothes?” Ken asked as his eyes slipped over Davis’s body.
Since Davis’s shower the night before, he’d only put on a pair of clean boxers. He really didn’t think Ken would mind. Hell, Ken was gay. He shouldn’t care if a half dressed man wandered around his home, right?
“Morning sunshine. They’re dirty. I was gonna do laundry today. You still like your eggs over easy?” Davis asked as he placed the first few fried eggs onto a plate. He slid four links of sausage next to it.
“You cook now?” Ken asked and wrinkled his nose. Not in displeasure. It’s just something he did when he was unsure. At least some things didn’t change.
“Man’s gotta make a living somehow. Over easy or not?”
“It’s fine,” Ken said and took both glasses of orange juice to the table. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed them.
Davis raised his eyebrows. “Easy there. Don’t break them. I wouldn’t want that nice suit to get covered in pulp.”
Ken’s cheeks flushed pink – something he’d also done since they were kids – and he set the glasses down. Turned. Crossed his arms. “We need to set up some ground rules while you’re here.”
Davis ignored the way his chest constricted. It was to be expected. He piled the rest of the food on a second plate and carried them both toward Ken. They each had the same amount of food, because he wasn’t some asshole who thought omegas should eat leftovers. “Okay. What are those?”
Ken sat stiffly; his hands bunched in his lap, and he stared at the plate like it might break into pieces if he tried hard enough. Then he let out a breath. “I work Monday to Friday so I can’t be around to supervise you while you’re here. Rule number one: no friends in my place. Tyler can come over if he wants, but he usually doesn’t want to. Rule number two: if you make a mess, please clean it up. I have a housekeeper who comes by once a week. It’d be better if you weren’t here when she arrives. I’ll tell you her schedule so you can plan around it.”
“Are you a prison warden or my friend?” Davis asked as he poured salt and pepper onto his eggs.
Ken narrowed his eyes and stabbed at the food on his plate. The yolks burst and spilled over everything, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Friend. If you think you can come back and make everything like it was before, you can’t. I have a life, Davis. A life that I have to lead no matter who is staying here.”
“You look like you’re doing great. I don’t want to change that,” Davis said, and smiled because he needed to sell this. He did want Ken to do well, but he also wanted Ken to enjoy him being back. Not take it as some burden to be dealt with.
“I’m doing great, thanks,” Ken said and slurped up an egg. The yolk dribbled down his chin and he swiped it away with a napkin – cloth like at some fancy restaurant.
Davis smiled. “Any other rules?”
Ken bit a sausage in half before he answered. “Yes. You need to get a job.”
Well, he knew that was coming. “Don’t worry. I’m not a charity case. I have a plan, and I even have cash set aside just in case. So do you own this place or rent it?”
“What?” Ken asked and finished the food on his place. He managed to look regal even with a piece of egg white stuck to his upper lip.
“Own or rent?” Davis repeated and chewed slowly. Relishing the taste of something that wasn’t from a roadside diner for once.
Ken looked around the room as if he expected to find a hole in the wall. “Rent. Why?”
Davis shrugged. “But the furniture is yours, right?”
“What did you do?” Ken cried and jumped up. He rushed to the couch, his face red, and looked it over like a mother would a child who fell and skinned its knee.
Davis laughed. “Nothing! I just wondered if it was like this before you moved in or not. I didn’t break anything. Don’t worry.”
Ken gave the couch another once over and moved back to the table. As he bent to grab his plate, Davis swiped the egg from Ken’s lip with his thumb. He didn’t know why he did it. That rebellious streak that pushed him to take every chance he’d ever taken nudged his hand. His breath hitched in his throat. Ken’s lips were softer than he remembered. Delicate and smooth.
Ken’s face turned red, and the pink tip of his tongue darted out to lick the place Davis touched.
Davis’s heart did this stupid double thump, and he quickly licked his thumb. As if that would help. Damn. It tasted like egg. And Ken.
He’d gotten a hint of that flavor the night before on the bottle of wine.
Ken’s eyes widened, and he stepped back. The space between them felt more like a giant wall than a mere few feet. “Don’t do that. Please.”
Davis frowned. What the hell had he done wrong now? “Do what? Touch you?”
Ken shook his head. “I have to get to work. Are you planning on leaving today? I can lend you the spare key,” he said and rushed into the bathroom.
Davis stared at Ken’s retreating back. He swallowed the ever-present lump in his throat. “Does this have something to do with Vegas?”
“No! Idiot!” Ken called from the bathroom, and Davis smiled despite himself.
In Ken speak, that meant yes.
When Ken emerged from the bathroom he smelled like mint and his own personal musk. It reminded Davis of all the things he missed, bundled into one wolf, which was stupid.
They weren’t in love.
Not romantic love, anyway.
Ken pulled on a wool coat, black and long enough that it brushed his knees. Now he looked even more stylish. “The key is on the table. Lock up before you leave. I’ll be home around seven unless. . . uh, never mind.”
“Unless what?” Davis asked and leaned against the wall.
“Unless Sam from marketing wants to have a third date,” Ken said as he draped a scarf around his neck.
Davis stared. “Sam from marketing, huh? You planning on bringing him back here?”
“Maybe,” Ken said and his eyes felt like the sharp points of daggers as they dug into Davis’s flesh.
Well, maybe he deserved that. And it shouldn’t bother him if his gay friend had a third date with Sam (from marketing) even if Davis just got back into town.
“So you’re saying I should be gone when you get back with him. You don’t want me to pretend to be your boyfriend home from a business trip a day early. It might be fun. Stretch those theater chops of yours.”
Ken scowled. “I haven’t been in theater since high school.”
“I know. Accounting was more practical. Plus, it’s what your parents wanted,” Davis said.
For the first time since Davis arrived, Ken’s expression softened, and he took a shallow breath. “I’m going to be late. Remember to lock up. Thanks. Oh, and don’t break the washing machine. You do know how to do laundry, right?”
“I’m a grown man. Yes. I can wash my own clothes. Have fun at work.”
Ken nodded and left.
Davis ignored the knot in his gut and got on with what he need
ed to do.
First Tyler—then a job.
Davis didn’t expect anything fancy, but he didn’t think his little brother would be holed up in a tattoo studio in the Flats either. The neighborhood had seen better days, and even with the gang war over the signs of it remained.
Across the street, a building was blocked off for demolition. Hopefully, the same thing didn’t happen to Tyler’s place of business.
Bullet holes fractured the windows of the barbershop on the first floor, but the open sign still buzzed in the window. The sign for the tattoo studio was painted in black and chipped around the edges. A little arrow pointed up a set of stairs.
The rain fell in a steady drizzle, which made everything gray and wet. Typical weather for this time of year in Haven, and to think Davis could’ve spent the winter in Key West.
His heart lodged in his throat as he trotted up the stairs. Music pounded down the narrow hallway, something loud and screamy. Nothing Davis recognized. He opened the door and glanced around the room. Every wall in the joint was covered with samples of could be tattoos, from pictures of dragons and flowers to different fonts.
Tyler always liked to draw, but Davis never imagined this is what would come of it. Hell, he never imagined a lot of things.
He spotted his younger brother in the corner, bent over a bottle of ink. His hair was black instead of brown. Ty was tall and well built, more so than Davis anticipated. He expected a skinny drug-addict, not someone who looked so much like him ten years ago.
“Ty. Hey,” Davis said and let the door swing shut behind him.
Tyler started and spilled the ink. “Shit! What the hell, dude? Don’t startle me like that. Lucky I wasn’t working on someone.”
“What happened to your shifter senses? You didn’t hear me coming?” Davis asked and walked toward him.
He got a scowl as an answer. Then a shrug.
The knot in his chest tightened. Tyler had been in elementary school the last time Davis saw him. That little squirt grew into a strong wolf, albeit a wolf with a drug problem. Well, who the hell was Davis to judge?
