Not Quite Free

by Kaye Draper

  Not Quite Free

  Not Quite, Volume 5

  Kaye Draper

  Published by Kaye Draper, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  NOT QUITE FREE

  First edition. July 6, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Kaye Draper.

  ISBN: 979-8201165895

  Written by Kaye Draper.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

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  Also By Kaye Draper

  About the Author

  I value every one of my readers and friends who support me in the crazy, wonderful adventure of writing. Thank you to all my patrons. A special thanks to Jennifer Sapa, RepunZill Oriana, Kate McKenney, and SG for helping me create, and to Frank Boston for the alpha reading and constant encouragement. I couldn’t make this dream into a reality without you!

  Chapter 1

  Angel wiped the sweat from his face with a small towel as he made his way from the gym down the long hallway toward the stairs. Theo and Sam were out badgering citizens, and they’d taken a good chunk of the regular security team with them. That meant Angel had the gym all to himself. He’d lost track of time as he moved from the usual physical fitness routine followed by the security people and into an older, slower practice his mother had taught him, meant to tire the body and exhaust the mind. It was supposed to help him reach a calm inner state, allow him to control his instincts and urges.

  Angel might be a half-human cur, but the magic of his mother’s fiend genes ran stronger in males. It made Angel’s seductive compulsion abilities stronger than even Madam Moonlight’s. But it also made controlling his needs a hell of a lot harder. Especially with Sam living under the same damned roof. And with the shifter cur turning to Angel to fill the void left by their estranged mates.

  He breathed deep and tried his best not to lapse back into the tense state he’d started the day in. Sam had left with Theo early, without so much as a parting kiss or a “goodbye,” after their quick, rough tumble between the sheets.

  Angel had spent a lot of time as a whore. He shouldn’t expect more. Especially from Sam. But, there it was. He always wanted more where Sam was concerned. He let out a frustrated sigh and slung the towel over his shoulder as he rounded the massive, ornate newel post and started up the stairs to his room. He didn’t have any jobs to do today. No politicians to sweet talk or city officials to appease. He wasn’t used to having a day off. It always left him feeling restless and at odds with the world. Sometimes it felt like if he wasn’t constantly using his abilities for the gain of others, then he wasn’t really alive.

  The chiming of the com box by the front door brought him out of his silly, maudlin musings. Angel reversed course, heading back down the stairs. He knew for a fact that Jules was currently out in the back garden alternately fussing over some non-native flame bush and keeping an eye on Josie while the old shifter rambled around the grounds. They weren’t expecting any visitors today, since Theo wasn’t here to conduct business, so Jules probably hadn’t assigned anyone to the com. No one would care if Angel just ignored it. But...something nagged at him, urging him to go see who was at the gate.

  He hadn’t lived this long in this mixed-up world by ignoring his instincts—at least not those instincts. He reached beneath his ponytail to rub the towel across the back of his neck as he reached out and pressed the com button. “Yes?” he said calmly, all the while feeling that little fizz of something dancing up and down his spine. It was strange. Like a soft whisper of the song that always played in his blood when Sam was nearby. But he knew it wasn’t his mate standing out there asking to be let in. For one thing, the call would be so much stronger. And for another, Sam wouldn’t put up with anyone stupid enough to deny them entry to the house. If it were Sam out there, there’d be more guards screaming in agony and less polite bell ringing.

  “Cur asking for entry,” the guard at the gate said through the com, his voice bored. “It’s the green one.”

  Ah. Sam’s other mate. Angel hesitated, knowing what the answer would be if Sam was here. Sam had been turning away their mates ever since the cat cur came to stay at the mansion. It was ridiculous.

  Angel depressed the shiny gold com button again. “Let him in, please.”

  He crossed his arms and waited, determined to stop this madness. Angel knew exactly how much it hurt to be kept from your mate. He didn’t know the green giant or the little redhead well, but he suspected they didn’t deserve what Sam was doing to them—or Sam—by trying to keep them at a distance, even if Sam was saying it was to keep them safe.

  A shadow crossed the panes of glass set high in the massive front door and Angel huffed a laugh. Leave it to Sam to fall in love with a walking mountain. He pulled the door open and looked up, past miles of muscle in faded jeans and a worn, too-tight t-shirt to a pair of surprisingly soft red-brown eyes.

  “Sam’s not here,” Angel said lightly, before the ogre cross could start to explain what he wanted. Angel stepped back and gestured impatiently at the towering hulk. “Hurry up and get in here before anyone else sees you.”

  The big guy did as he was told, his thick black eyebrows quirking in confusion. Angel shut the door and headed toward the stairs. “Come on,” he urged. “We need to talk where no one else can hear. Sam shouldn’t be home for a while yet, but the servants and guards might be in a gossipy mood. And Jules is a Nazi when it comes to doing what Theo and Sam tell him to.”

  He paused on the stairs and glanced back over his shoulder to find the big guy looking at him in shock. “You want to talk to me? Why?”

  Angel lifted one shoulder in a shrug and continued up the stairs. “Because your mate is being stupid and reckless, as usual, and I don’t want to watch them destroy themselves anymore.”

  When he reached the top of the stairs, he was pleased to see the ogre had followed him, his head turning this way and that as he took in the fancy house with all it’s expensive structure and sleek, elegant decorations. “My room is this way.” He turned and led the surprisingly quiet giant of a man toward his suite. When they reached his room, Angel gestured at the sofa. “Make yourself at home. I need to get changed.” He pulled at the front of his damp tank top, in case the other guy had missed how sweaty and rumpled he was right now.

  The ogre bit his lower lip and glanced around like he was afraid this was some sort of trap, but he eventually sank down on the couch to wait. “Sure.”

  Angel arched a brow at him. Not a raging, mindless brute warrior, this one. He dragged the hair tie out of his long, tangled hair and headed toward his bedroom to grab a change of clothes. When he stepped out again to head to the bathroom, he found his quiet guest sitting there with his hands folded in his lap as he silently catalogued every single thing in Angel’s living space.

  Interesting.

  Angel hurried to rinse off in the shower and pull on clean clothes. Then he grabbed a hairbrush and headed back out to the living area. The ogre was still right where he’d put him. “I did tell you to make yourself at home,” Angel said as he dragged the brush through his hair. “Honestly, the place isn’t booby trapped or anything.”

  That got him a sheepish look. Then the giant’s soft, warm eyes locked on Angel’s hair a
nd he licked his lips nervously. “I didn’t think it was booby trapped,” he said in a soft, deep voice. “I just didn’t want to mess anything up.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one massive hand. “Kind of big and clumsy, you know?”

  Angel huffed a laugh and set his brush aside to start braiding his long silver hair. He doubted the guy was that clumsy. He’d moved silently on the way up the stairs, and everything about him seemed purposefully focused on not taking up too much space. But that was a tangent to explore later. Right now, they had more important things to discuss.

  “Sam walked out on you and refuses to see you, but you still come here almost every day,” he said, leveling a direct stare at the big green man. “Why?”

  The ogre hunched his shoulders defensively, as if he were expecting a blow. “Because I know she doesn’t mean it. Not really. She’s just hurt. And scared.” He sucked in a breath and risked a glance at Angel’s face. “And she needs us. I know she does. I can’t just let Sam suffer like that.”

  Angel couldn’t stop the soft, sad smile that flitted across his face. The ogre...Emerson...was absolutely right. “Why do you do that?” he asked impulsively. “Why do you use feminine pronouns when you know Sam prefers to be seen as male?”

  If Emerson was surprised by the strange turn in subject, he didn’t show it. He just shrugged and looked down, clasping and unclasping his fingers where they rested on his big thighs. “Well...Sam said she doesn’t care what pronouns people use. If she really wanted me to stop, I would. But...well, Sam never says exactly what she means, does she? I think....” He glanced up at Angel again, then away. “I think she wants to be herself—all of herself. But she’s scared. I just want her to know it’s okay.” He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans, as if he couldn’t stand being under scrutiny, but was determined to keep talking. “You do it too though. You say ‘they’ and ‘them.’ But like it’s natural for you.”

  Angel couldn’t look away from this strange, perceptive creature. “That’s because it is natural for me,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve known Sam since we were young. I’ve long ago accepted all of who they are, even when they don’t.”

  Their eyes met and held, finally, and the ogre gave him a nod. Like they were on the same page where Sam was concerned. Angel smiled. “So,” he said, finishing up his braid and tying it off with the hair tie he’d kept around his wrist. “You’re clearly good for our Sam. And they are clearly being stubborn. What about your other friend? The little red one?”

  That earned him a short, deep laugh. “Fin? I wouldn’t let him hear you call him little if I was you.” Then his brief moment of laughter faded. “He’s just as bad as Sam sometimes. I don’t know much about shifters and their mate bonds.” He looked to Angel for clarification. “But from what I understand, there’s more to it than just a little bit of longing or something, right? It can make shifter curs...turn feral, can’t it?”

  Angel took a deep breath and kept the soft smile plastered on his face, even though his guts felt like he’d swallowed glass shards. “Yes, it can be painful, and it can cause emotional and mental stress.” And not just for shifters. They weren’t the only species who suffered from life-threatening instability when they were bonded to someone then kept away from them. But he didn’t say any of that out loud.

  The ogre paused to study him for a minute, then shook his head and continued. “Well, Fin is Sam’s mate, so Sam needs him. Especially after what happened with Ahura.” His warm gaze was suddenly filled with sadness so stark it made Angel want to hug him. Gods of the deep. He could see why Sam was in trouble where this one was concerned. He forced himself to focus on the giant’s words. “But Fin thinks it’s all his fault. He thinks he caused Ahura’s...death.” Long black lashes swept upward, and the giant’s eyes were pleading. “I can’t get him to stop blaming himself. He won’t come here anymore because he thinks he’s toxic. He thinks he destroyed Sam.”

  Angel clucked his tongue at that nonsense. “He’s doing more damage by staying away.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead to ease the sudden ache there as he sank down onto the coffee table, directly in front of the giant. “I...don’t know if he would listen to me. He seems rather set on hating my guts.” He quirked a wry look at Emerson. “But I understand subtle forms of magic and how they can be more powerful than people think.” He looked down at his own hands, starkly slender and pale compared to the blunt digits of the man in front of him. “I understand how much it hurts when you use your magic to hurt someone...even if it’s unintentional. Even if that’s the exact opposite of what you meant to achieve.”

  He glanced up to find the big guy watching him with a frown.

  “What?” Angel asked, suddenly feeling defensive under that perceptive gaze.

  “You’re...not like I thought,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry.”

  Angel lifted his head and tossed his braid over his shoulder, sliding a calculated glance filled with invitation at the big lug. “Oh? Didn’t expect the whore to have any brains in his pretty little head?”

  He was gratified to see the pink color flood the giant’s green cheeks and the embarrassed way he looked away. So, the big guy wasn’t immune to Angel’s looks. That was a fact he might have taken advantage of for a night or two, if the big, soft walking contradiction wasn’t Sam’s. The thing in him that wanted to own, and possess, and drown in adoration slithered around, low in his belly, and he shoved the thought away, focusing on his anger instead. This was nothing new. Most people wanted to fuck him. They’d be the same ones to judge him and call him dirty later. It was how the world worked.

  A big hand landed on his knee, startling him out of the darkness of his own mind. Emerson was still blushing furiously, but he had a determined look on his face, like he was going to say whatever he was going to say, even if it killed him. “You’re proud of what you do for a living, aren’t you?” he said gently, a note of surprise in his voice. “But...you know some people will look down on you for it, so you just assume everyone thinks the worst of you.” He shook his head in wonder. “Part of you actually believes the bad things people say.”

  Angel stared up at the giant with wide eyes, not knowing how to respond to feeling so...seen. “I...I’ve had a lot of experience being told what I am, what I want...what I need is wrong. I suppose it must have soaked in a bit.” He tried to shrug it off, to sound nonchalant. But his inner world was trembling, threatening to implode.

  This ogre was dangerous, and not because of the size of his fists.

  “What about you?” he said, drawing himself upright, giving in to his thoroughly aroused curiosity. “How in the world did you become so...insightful? Clearly you weren’t raised by ogres.”

  He missed the warm, comforting hand on his knee when it withdrew. Emerson swallowed hard and looked down at his hands, which were now folded primly in his lap again. “I was, actually. Raised by ogres.”

  Angel’s magic sang in his veins, a little hum that sparked in response to the pain that lingered in the other man’s words. Ogre fiends were brutal, violent, and driven by nothing but the most primal instincts. Fuck. He’d just prodded at a festering wound. His instinct to soothe and please nearly overwhelmed him and he closed his eyes to push it back down. This ogre wasn’t his. And Sam would never forgive him if they sensed any trace of Angel’s magic on Emerson. Would never believe him when he said he hadn’t hurt the ogre.

  His eyes flew open when the strange creature kept talking. As if he trusted Angel with his secrets and his pain. “Everyone here in human society...even other curs...they think I’m so big and strong. They’re mostly scared of me. Or they want to gang up on me and get rid of the threat. But...in my mother’s clan I was the runt. A weakling with human blood.”

  And the ogres would only see someone small and weak as a target. Angel swallowed, wishing he’d never opened his mouth, but unable to say anything to stop the flow of words that welled up out of the ogre’s broad chest. “I learned to watch people, you know? In a
situation like that...you learn everything about them, what motivates them, what sets them off. So you can avoid making them mad, as much as possible.”

  His long black lashes swept downward over his high, broad cheekbones and he shrugged. “I guess I just got good at reading people and puzzling out what they really want.”

  Angel was suddenly reminded of a customer he’d had once, when he was still working as a whore at The Magic Mushroom. The fairy cur had been raped long before he ever met her. She was scared and guarded. But sometimes she craved physical contact, like most people do. Someone she knew had talked her into coming to Angel’s mother, and Angel had ended up taking care of her whenever the need for contact got too strong for her to ignore. It made sense—Angel was pretty and non-threatening, not your usual gruff, manly-man type. And he was a licensed professional, someone who was certified by the city as clean, safe, and not into abusing his customers (unless they paid for that specifically.) The woman would only see Angel, and they spent most nights just cuddling in the center of his bed. He’d never made so much money for so little effort. All she required was a comforting embrace and a little proof that not all men were dangerous. Eventually, she’d asked for a few kisses, some heated caressing. But that was it.

  As Angel stared at the puzzling mass of green-tinted beefcake before him, he was stunned. The things this poor guy must have endured at the hands of his brutal clan. Then all the discrimination and abuse at the hands of humans, and probably other curs as well...and yet, rather than becoming fearful, or jaded, or completely withdrawing to protect himself, he had somehow become caring, and sensitive, and intuitive about the feelings of others in a way that was almost magic.

  “You’re...beautiful,” he breathed without thinking.

  The ogre’s expressive red-brown eyes widened, and he looked away, rubbing a big hand over the back of his neck again in embarrassment. “Me? I’m just a big, dumb ogre. Have you looked in a mirror lately, siren?”