by Richard Amos
Dean was snoring lightly beside me, an arm thrown across my belly. I wiggled backward so I was pressed against his chest. He stirred and wiggled too, encasing me in his arms, his breath on the back of my neck, our naked flesh making full contact.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
He curled a leg around me. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Think it’s morning.”
“Dark.”
“It’s January.”
He chuckled. “You okay?”
I was snuggling … with Dean. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I rested my hand on his leg. “Really.”
“Good.”
I drifted back into sleep.
It was light the next time my eyes opened, gray light flooding the room through the open curtains. Dean must’ve opened them.
His arms were no longer around me.
I turned to see him sitting up, duvet covering his waist. Still naked. I sat up.
“Morning, again.”
He smiled. “Morning—proper morning.”
I rubbed my eyes. “What’s the time?”
“Just gone seven.”
“Suppose we should get up soon. I need a shower.”
“Use mine if you want.”
“And a fresh change of clothes.”
“You can’t use mine.”
I chuffed.
So, here we were, the morning after.
“What you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking … how nice it was.”
“It was really nice.”
“What’re you thinking, Dean?”
He smiled. “I’m thinking the whole world just shifted into something new and really cool.”
Blimey, the way my heart fluttered. “You are?”
“But it’s up to you, Jake. If you want to see how it goes, we will. If not, we’ll be mates who had a good time. Though … I’m not sure about that. I don’t think I could look at you and not be able to have you.”
The way he said it, that seductive tone of his … it had me rock hard again in an instant.
“I … I … want to …” I had this, I could say this. “I want to see.”
“That’s good to know.”
It would take a full on exorcism to free me from my demons, but telling Dean that I wanted to explore this thing between us, that was monumental. And he wanted the same. Who gave a flying frig about him being with women in the past? Why couldn’t he just be fluid? Why shouldn’t he want me?
“I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“Same. Big time. But we … we can be nervous together.”
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
I pulled back the duvet without thinking.
He eyed up my manhood. “For me, Mr. Winter?”
My hands flew to my boner, blushing commenced.
“You’re not embarrassed, right?”
“N-no.”
“I mean, I remember how good it tastes.”
My cheeks were positively nuclear, but that cracked me up and my hands fell away.
“Good boy. Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m stealing your shower,” I said and hurried to the bathroom.
The water was absolute heaven, hot and soft.
Every inch of my skin still sang with the memory of his touch, my mouth still tasting of him. Echoes of him inside me rang over and over. Blimey. I was waiting for it, the crash.
It still hadn’t come.
The bathroom door opened, then the shower cubicle.
He gave me hungry dark eyes, his dick hard—still free of the piercing.
“Fancy some company?” He stepped inside.
Dean wrapped himself around me as water sluiced down my skin, caressing me, kissing me. His hand reached down to my hardness, and he sucked my neck as he stroked me.
“Shit …” I gasped.
Biting, licking, his other hand wandering over the contours of my body. He went hard and fast, me barely able to breathe.
“Oh, fuck …”
He brought me to orgasm under the hot water.
“Blimey …”
He spun me and kissed me, water cascading over our heads, around our locked lips.
I returned the favor.
We kissed by his closed door, towels wrapped around our waists, yet still hungry for more.
“I have to go,” I breathed into his mouth.
The kissing paused, his arms around my neck. “I don’t want you to leave this room. Can’t we always stay here?”
“Reality calls.” I kissed him again.
“Fuck reality. I’d rather fuck you.”
“Maybe later.” This was a whole new me—flirty and meaning it.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“What do we tell the others?”
He ran the back of his hand over my right cheek. “We tell them whatever you want to tell them.”
“Okay.”
“Whatever makes you happy.”
“Wow, you’re quite the romantic lead.”
He kissed my nose. “Shut it.” His arms dropped. “Go on, go do what you’ve got to do. I’ll be downstairs in ten.”
“See you down there.”
He opened the door and spanked my arse as I left.
I threw him a glance over my shoulder, and he winked before closing the door.
Dressed in a red wine jumper and black jeans, I opened a drawer where I had a notepad. I’d been thinking about this while pulling on my clothes. I wasn’t falling apart; I wasn’t sinking into a horrible pit of guilt. But I had to do this, to pour it out onto the page. Something just for me and Michael.
The blue teddy bear Dean had won me down on Rainbow Mile was in the same drawer. I picked it up, placing it on top. It didn’t need to be hidden in there, even if it was a symbol of my failure to master the grabbing machine. Those inanimate blue eyes gave me the warm fuzzies.
I used the top of the chest of drawers to lean on, my pen poised on the paper.
Dean. Dean Tseng. I still couldn’t quite believe what had happened, what was happening, how I felt. I never thought this giddiness would be mine to experience ever again, not with how many pieces I’d been smashed into.
But here I was …
Giddy …
On the beginning of a new scary journey—one more fun than the other big scary journey that involved me being a weapon ...
Damned reality.
First, though, I had to do this.
I started to write to Michael …
Chapter Thirty
Greg parked the car around the corner from the white eye guy’s flat. The plan was to capture him and then get answers out of him—whether that was using truth magic or not. His time of hiding his motives was over.
I unhooked my fingers from Dean’s, the pair of us stifling giggles like we were doing something really naughty in the back of the car. If Greg and Nay hadn’t been here, we probably would be doing very naughty things.
“Right,” Greg said. “Time to get the drop on the bastard.”
It was half eight and bloody freezing. The sky was miserably gray, the stench of smoke still on the air from the burning the city had endured. But the goblin magic was doing well at repairing everything.
The streets were pretty quiet.
My guardians were armed and ready for a strike from Lilisian. It was Monday and that ritual would have taken place somewhere, bringing her up to full charge. We were ready for her. This was our city.
Together, we hurried down the street to the chip shop where the white eye guy’s flat waited. The tracking spell said he was in there.
Greg, taking point, made a right down an alley two shops before the chippy. We snaked round to the back, down another alley to a metal stairwell.
“Up there,” Nay said.
Get ready, knob head! Time for you to spill!
Greg put one foot on the first step. “Full pelt. I’m gonna smash that door i
n. Jake, you come in last because he loves to grab you.”
My fists were balls of fury. I nodded.
“Let’s do it.”
It all went down so quick—the boom of the door breaking, our boot falls on the bare wooden floor of the studio flat. It was musty and dark and there were pizza boxes everywhere. The only neat thing was the bed, made like the bastard had been taught to do so in the military or something.
And there was a red ball of light floating in the center of the flat, blinking.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Fuck!” Nay roared.
My phone rang. “It’s him.”
“Put him on speaker!” Nay demanded.
I did as I was told. The sounds of the sea came through the phone.
“You bastard!” Nay yelled.
The white eye guy chuckled. “Nice try, Naomi.”
He hung up.
I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. “We so need to bring him down a friggin’ peg or two!”
I booted a pizza box. It flew across the flat, spilling leftover crust across the floor.
“Come on,” I said. “I seriously need a cuppa!”
Jake’s letter to Michael…
Dear Michael,
It’s me.
I know you’re not here to read this, but I hope you can see it wherever you are. I need to say this, so I’m believing you can.
I love you. I always will love you. You’re in my heart. I know you fell out of love with me, and that’s fine. That’s up to you. I’m sorry I drove you to it, for all the shit. But my feelings are mine. I could never hate you. No one can change that. Not even you.
I can’t do this to myself anymore. I have to start moving on. Fuck! Hate that word! But it’s true. I need to. I got myself clean. Bloody hell, what a toughie that’s been! I hope you’re proud of me for that, no matter how much I pushed you away. I got off the shit for you. Don’t worry, I’ll get payback for you. No matter what, you didn’t deserve to die. I’ll sort that wanker out one day.
I’m not gonna mess things up this time. Don’t know where this is going with Dean, but I want to go with it. Okay? I get we were done before you died. I get that now. I couldn’t swallow it. I have to now. Denial, eh? But I hid behind it.
Anyway, I’m leaving it there. Wherever you are, I want you to know we’re good. At least on this end. I hope you’re happy, hope you’re at peace. I’ll always miss you, Mike. But now I’m gonna try and live as best I can.
Love,
Jake Xxx
Are you ready for Jake’s next adventure?
Answers are coming in…
Winter Blood
(Coldharbour Chronicles book 4)
Releases February 1st 2019
AMAZON US
AMAZON UK
About the Author
Richard Amos is an author from England who is constantly lost in the worlds he writes about, and the ones in the queue yet to be written. He also has more books in his house than anything else, and is never without a book (and chocolate) in his hands when he's not writing. He's a proud nerd who loves to dance. Hard.
Richard writes kick-ass Urban Fantasy with gay male protagonists, all with good doses of action, adventure and romance.
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Also by Richard Amos
Coldharbour Chronicles
Winter Rising
Winter Shadows
Winter Fire
Winter Blood