by Zoe Perdita
A powerful hand gripped Ken’s elbow and spun him around.
Davis growled deep in his chest, and his lips smashed into Ken’s, knocking the breath from Ken’s lungs. He told his body not to respond, but his toes tingled and the need rushed to his cock and gathered in his balls. His fingers grasped at Davis’s jacket, even when he told himself to let go.
Why couldn’t he let go?
And his lips were useless against the onslaught.
Davis’s tongue brushed his and—dammit!
Ken moaned and pulled back. “We’re angry at each other.”
“Furious,” Davis grumbled and kissed him again, rich with urgency. His jacket slipped off his arms and fell to the floor. Somehow his shirt went with it, but Ken didn’t remember breaking the kiss.
He’d be lucky if he could remember his own middle name.
Davis’s fingers raked over Ken’s shoulders, shoved off the jacket and snagged on the shirt. “I’m claiming you.”
The heat in Ken’s belly spread to his chest and face. “What?” he gasped as Davis’s lips clamped and sucked on his neck.
“We’re mates, so I’m claiming you. Now. Here.” Davis’s breath tickled Ken’s ear, and he sucked in a lungful of air.
“Here? On the floor?”
Davis huffed and lifted Ken up, slinging him over his strong shoulder. “Bed.”
Ken wiggled. Of all the ways he imagined this going down, being carried to his own room never entered into it. “I can’t even shower first?”
Davis dropped him on the bed, and Ken bounced a few times, fighting to catch his breath. Just like on the pier, it felt like his brain no longer worked, but his body made up for it.
“Do you need to?” Davis asked, earnest enough.
Ken shook his head. This wasn’t just sex. Even if all the other times didn’t feel like just sex, in the back of his mind he’d convinced himself to think of them like that. It was the only armor he had left. But this—Davis claiming him—it was akin to saying ‘I do,’ in the human world.
And Davis wasn’t slowing down. He leaned over the bed, smothering Ken with his rich musk and his powerful body. His hands trapped Ken on either side, and his mouth – that delectable mouth – tasted, kissed and licked Ken’s lips, neck and chest until Davis got to Ken’s waist. Then he pulled off Ken’s pants and boxers, licked his lips and lapped at Ken’s erection. He kissed the curls at the base and his tongue twirled over the shaft, up and down. Each touch sent a shock to Ken’s spine.
Ken’s hips bucked, and his fingers curled into the comforter.
“Nightstand. Lube,” Davis breathed.
Ken moaned as he spotted the bottle. He hadn’t put it there, which meant. . . . “You planned this?”
Davis’s lips curled over the tip and sucked. He sucked until Ken let out a strangled gasp and managed to hand him the lube. Then he answered. “Yeah. Tonight was supposed to be romantic with dinner and wine and a heartfelt ‘I love you.’ Then this.”
Ken’s body flushed at the squirt of the lube, and Davis’s palms pressed his thighs open. Those fingers crept closer and closer. Davis engulfed him as the first digit nudged inside, and even the slight pinch of pain was no match for the desire charging through his veins.
Davis’s mouth was hot and wet. He’d learned so much in the last few weeks. His lips performed fucking miracles, and by the time the third finger slipped in and out of Ken’s entrance, he was so close to the edge he whimpered.
And Davis sucked—milked and stretched him without letting up.
“I’m going to—” Ken groaned as he came. The orgasm spilled over him like hot water, and he hardly noticed Davis’s hand slip around his hip or the lips leaving his cock.
Then Davis was over him, those strong arms lifting him so their chests pressed together, both slick with sweat. His cock nudged Ken’s ass.
“You’re my mate,” Davis groaned. “And I’m going to make you come again.”
Ken nodded and hooked his arms over Davis’s neck. The muscles bunched under his hands, and he took a sharp breath as Davis squeezed inside, the lube warm and the sensation sharp and sweet all at once. It took all his concentration to remember to breathe. In and out. He moved up, wrapped his legs around Davis’s hips and kissed Davis’s jaw.
Every thrust roused his cock all over again. That bundle of nerves sang, and Ken moaned. He moaned because Davis liked it when he moaned. And, fuck, he liked the deep-throated growl that came out of Davis’s mouth.
“Love you,” Davis said. He sounded as close to unraveling as Ken felt.
“Love you too,” Ken whimpered. His nails dug into Davis’s flesh.
They were so wet.
So close.
Alpha and omega.
Mates.
With one final thrust, Ken lost control. His body jolted. His nails scratched, and the breath hitched in his chest. Davis groaned into Ken’s mouth, lips pressed together as his heat leaked inside. His body jerked, trembled, and he gasped.
“You won’t leave again?” Ken managed, his voice hardly a breath.
Davis’s grip loosened, and his chest heaved. “No. Never. You won’t run off and try something so dangerous again?”
Ken shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. To even form words. That night in the bathroom was enough to shatter his heart; this damn near broke his mind. Not because Davis loved him or wanted him—but because he’d refused to believe it until now. Playing a victim was a lot easier than forgiveness but forgiveness is what Davis deserved.
Slowly, the hands on his shoulders slipped around his back, and Ken pressed his face into Davis’s sternum and clung to him. Every breath smelled like his mate. Their hearts pounded against each other, the ba-dum of each beat fell in sync, as if that’s how they’d always been and always should be.
He wasn’t sure how long Davis held him like that. His bones ached and his muscles pinched, like he’d run a marathon.
“I forgive you. Do you forgive me?” Ken asked.
Davis’s mouth pressed into his head and a puff of air came out with it, ruffling Ken’s hair. “Of course. That’s what mates do, right? We forgive each other.”
“Maybe you’re just saying that so I have to forgive you easily the next time you screw up,” Ken said and let himself smile. It was better than crying by a long shot.
“Hey! Why do I have to be the one to screw up?”
Ken caught the rough edge of Davis’s cheek. Kissed it. “Because you’re Davis Harrison. I’ll still be here when you do.”
“Same here,” Davis said and grinned.
12
“I got a job working for Jin Yue.”
The words came out of Davis’s mouth in a rush the next morning while he stood over the frying pan, the scent of bacon and eggs filling the air. He’d meant to tell Ken the night before, over steak and wine to ease the blow. But then everything went wrong and here they were.
Davis heard Ken choke on his espresso and turned in time to see Ken swipe it off his chin. His eyes widened, and he coughed again. “Jin Yue? You got a job working for a mobster?”
He wore a T-shirt and sleeping pants, the kind that always hung off his slender hips and kissed the bare skin of his ass.
Davis reached for those hips and shrugged. “Yeah, but hear me out. I don’t have any talents besides gambling. I’m going to work in the casino and catch cheaters. So, I pretty much get paid to gamble and pay attention, two things I already do regularly.”
Ken didn’t look impressed with Davis’s reasoning, but he didn’t worm out of the grip either. “And he’s a dangerous crime boss. What if you do something to piss him off and he kills you? Or Ty? Or me?”
“I won’t. Look, he’s dangerous. I know, but his people are loyal not scared. That tells me he’s fair. And, hell, look at the chance he gave me. Most of the mobsters I’ve screwed over would’ve put a bullet in my head right off,” Davis said and smiled.
Maybe not the best choice of words. Ken frowned so deeply
it pinched his brows together. “Okay. I don’t even want to know how many mobsters you’ve pissed off, just don’t do that anymore. Please?”
“Promise,” Davis said and kissed Ken’s nose. Then he smoothed Ken’s hair from his face. “So that means you’re okay with this?”
“Not really, but it makes sense for you. Not everyone is cut out to be an accountant. Just stay safe.” He still frowned, but his eyes softened, and he wrapped his arms around Davis’s waist. “The bacon is burning, but I’d rather hold you right now.”
“I like crispy bacon,” Davis said.
He could get used to a life like that. Now he just had to make sure he did everything right so he could keep it.
Win the cash. Find the drugs.
That mantra filled Davis’s head as he strolled into the game Saturday night. Ken bristled beside him, all nervous energy he tried desperately to hide. Davis didn’t mention it, because it’d just make Ken more nervous. He hoped the other shifters didn’t smell it on the omega.
Unlike the last game, which was much more relaxed, this one had all the players gathered together, shifty eyed and laughing too loudly to be real. The plan hadn’t shifted much from the last time. Ken would watch while Davis played, then he’d sneak off to find the crates (at least they knew what the damn crates looked like now!). They even had Fei on speed dial so he could get the cops down to make the bust.
Of course, all of that had to happen after Davis won the tournament. So their window of opportunity was small and not all together great.
Still. They’d manage.
They had to manage.
It was the biggest gamble Davis had ever taken, and for once in his life, the excitement didn’t win out over the fear of losing. Because if he lost this one, it was more than cash. And the consequences were greater than a bruised ego and possibly a black eye. They were his brother and his mate.
His life.
There were more shadow folks observing this game. They crowded the edges of the room, which had been cleared of all tables but one. The fluorescent light from the ceiling threw unsightly shadows over everyone’s face. Ken looked ghostly pale under it with a green tint. Davis smiled at him.
A few bears huddled in a corner and mumbled about a wolf – a black wolf – though most of what they said was in Russian. Davis couldn’t tell from their scent, but they might be the thugs with the drugs that almost caught Ken. He hoped not, but it was more than likely.
Davis exchanged his cash for chips – all thirty-five grand. It’d be easier to win the money he needed for Jin if he bet it all. Of course, Ken tried to talk him out of it, but he relented sooner than he had in the past.
If Davis lost that was that. He didn’t need a savings to fall back on or a 401k (whatever that was), if he were dead. And if he lost that’s what he’d be.
Ken slipped into the corner as Davis slid over to the player’s table. The other players joined him, Dmitri among them, and the dealer laid out the cards.
Davis had been too busy with his individual games last time he hadn’t gotten a read on any of these player’s tells. The only one he knew was Dmitri, but Dmitri didn’t have any tells, as far as he knew.
There was a female bear that looked old enough to be his grandmother. Her dark eyes were set deep into her face, and she glanced at the others shrewdly as she lifted her hand. Then she clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, but that was too obvious to be a real tell.
The final player was a warlock, Davis guessed, from the strong scent of magic – like leaves in the fall. He was youngish with a prominent brow and hooked nose. He let out a breath before he picked up his hand, and Davis watched the warlock’s face still. Almost expressionless but for the flare in his eyes. He must’ve won on pure luck and not skill.
They bet large hands, and each won in turn. Davis allowed himself a grin when he won against the warlock, and got the man’s pile of chips for his gamble. It brought his total up to a solid sixty grand. Only forty more, and he’d have enough to pay back Jin.
But he had to win the tournament to keep the money.
Davis’s next few hands weren’t great, but he kept the bets high enough to fool the babushka bear, as she was stingy. When she finally called his bluff, her tongue clicked three times in a row.
His heart thumped as she turned over her cards, throwing them onto the table with a slap.
Two diamonds: a nine and a Jack. Nineteen.
He let out a slow breath and did the same thing.
Davis had two spades: an ace and an nine. He won by one point.
She threw a few curses out in Russian as she rose from the table and hobbled away.
Davis glanced at Dmitri, and the bear smiled. “Just you and me, da?”
“Looks like it,” Davis said and grinned. He still couldn’t read Dmitri’s tells, so that meant he was betting based on pure luck.
Cheating sounded damn good, but he wasn’t about to put Ken in danger. Speaking of Ken. . . .
Davis glanced around the room, and his gut clenched. He’d kept his eyes on the game and didn’t spare his mate a glance since they’d started. Even with the crowd in the room, he’d know the sight of Ken’s head. The scent of his musk.
Only, Ken wasn’t anywhere.
The color drained from Davis’s face, and Dmitri chuckled.
“Maybe he go to the bathroom,” Dmitri said, but his expression remained as impassive as always.
Maybe. Or maybe those bears from the other night grabbed Ken, pulled him outside and—No. He was probably looking for the drugs. The game was winding down. Ken saw that and went into phase two of their plan.
Still, a drop of sweat dripped between Davis’s shoulder blades, and his gut clenched. There was only one way to find out. Finish the game.
Now.
“Let’s end this with this hand. What do you say? The ultimate gamble,” Davis said, with the grin Ken said was too charming. “No matter what, we’re all in.”
Dmitri narrowed his eyes.
The entire room rumbled with hushed conversations, but Davis ignored them all. He watched Dmitri, and Dmitri watched him.
“Da. This sounds good to me,” Dmitri finally said and leaned back in his chair. It squeaked.
Then the dealer tossed them the final hand. The cards that would decide Davis’s fate. He hoped luck was kind to him this time.
He snatched up the three cards and read them each in turn. A two of diamonds, a King of hearts and a seven of diamonds. Not great, but he could work with it.
Dmitri stared and slowly pushed his pile of chips across the table. In total, it was about eighty grand. With Davis’s sixty on top of it, he’d have more than enough for Jin with plenty left over. Biggest score of his life, pretty much, and it felt like a hollow victory compared to Ken.
Davis shoved his lot of chips in with it.
They each traded in two cards, and Davis kept the number sharp in his head. He tried his luck and traded the two diamonds for better cards. The King of hearts wasn’t going anywhere. The gamble paid off. He got a three of clubs and a Jack of hearts in return.
“You first,” Dmitri said, his accent thick.
Davis flipped them over one by one, just to give the audience a show more than to delay it. Twenty. It was a good hand, but not perfect.
Not unbeatable.
Dmitri showed no reaction. His eyes didn’t widen and his skin didn’t pale. That couldn’t be good.
“Well?” Davis asked, his throat dry.
Suddenly, Dmitri shook his head and laughed. He didn’t even turn over his cards. “You win,” he said and hit the table.
The room erupted.
Davis took several deep breaths before he stood and gathered his chips. The congratulations rang as empty as his chest because Ken wasn’t in the crowd.
Ken didn’t see him win.
And, more importantly, those damn drug running bears were missing as well.
Winning meant nothing if he lost the most important person in his l
ife.
13
Ken tapped his foot on the floor, and his shoulders bunched so hard he felt as if they brushed his ears. The games didn’t seem to take so long last time, but now. . . now every hand took a damn millennia. And the whole room would mutter and bet on who might win.
He tried not to listen, but the words floated into his ears and hung there. Reminded him how important this moment was – as if he didn’t already know!
In Ken’s eyes, it seemed like Davis was being reckless. His bets were high. He didn’t always win, and at one point it looked like that bear named Dmitri would take the whole pot. He didn’t, because Davis won that hand instead.
However, Ken couldn’t concentrate fully on the game, since right across the room the bears who unloaded the drugs a few nights before stood in a tight knot. They eyed the crowd, and Ken was never more grateful to be short in his life. He slunk behind a few taller shifters and edged toward the maze where the drugs might be.
When it was down to just Davis and Dmitri, Ken slipped away. The entire crowd moved forward to watch the last two players, and it meant they might not have much time left.
Ken’s heart pounded as he swept past the crates. They were all too big to be the ones he’d seen. He ran into three different dead ends and had to turn around before he caught a glimpse of a ladder in the corner. Of course! If he had a view from above he’d be able to see the maze completely. Maybe find the crates too.
His fingers trembled as he grabbed the rung and pulled himself up. The loafers slipped, and he cursed himself for wearing a shoe with a smooth sole. He got to the top without being seen and took a deep breath.
The view wasn’t as good as he wanted, but the lights hung lower than he did, so it’d be more difficult to spot him. However, from that vantage point, he did notice something interesting – the maze of crates blocked off several smaller rooms, and each of those areas were filled with the small crates Ken had seen. The ones that housed the drugs.