A Shadow of Wings

by Gayle, Linda

“And it will be lovely again.” Dylan’s hands mapped the back of Cam’s jeans, his fingers pressing into the Cam’s ass, pulling him closer, and Cam laid his head on Dylan’s shoulder, growing hotter under the seductive touch. Safe—that was how he felt here. Safe and wanted, so wanted. He ran his hands over Dylan’s strong shoulders and down his spine, then tasted the salt-sweet skin of Dylan’s neck, tracing the bold red wings of the fiery phoenix with the tip of his tongue.

  Dylan hummed low in his throat. “I got something in mind for later. Something to round out your education.”

  “Whatever you want. You know I’m yours.” And he meant it. A shudder of dangerous vulnerability ran through him, and he knew his wings must be showing by the way Dylan paused in his caresses, then started again. “Can you see them?” Cam whispered. His skin pebbled with dread and desire both.

  “Yeah.” Bold fingers threaded up into Cam’s hair, and firm lips took Cam’s mouth before Dylan pulled back enough to say, “They’re beautiful, like you. And fucking weird, like you.” He snorted a laugh and backed out of their embrace, leaving Cam shivering, his cockhead already damp with wanting.

  “Weird?” He couldn’t help a slight tone of hurt.

  “Ah, come on, I don’t mean it that way. Not in a bad way. I like weird.” He turned and, ignoring Cam’s lust and confusion, started spooning the spaghetti around in the boiling water. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I’ve seen over the years. I knew this guy once who dressed like a chick, only that was all he did—dress like one. He’d still have, like, three days’ worth of beard and big ol’ hairy legs sticking out and work boots, but he loved them dresses.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “And another one? I was partying with this guy I was with at the time, and this dude got buzzed on something. To this day, I don’t know what it was, but I swear he started talking Latin. My boyfriend recorded it on his cell phone, and we looked up some of the words later. Didn’t make no sense, but certain words were definitely Latin. Like, who talks Latin anymore?”

  “Only those of us in Latin Club,” Cam said with wounded dignity, returning to the stove. He tasted some of the sauce, then held the spoon for Dylan, who sipped from it.

  “Delish, as my mom used to say. When do we eat?” The hot gaze he rolled over Cam made Cam want to rush things.

  “In a few minutes. I just have to finish the garlic bread. Uh-oh, garlic…”

  Dylan laughed. “Don’t worry, if we both eat it, we cancel each other out.”

  Excellent—nothing to impede lots of kissing, then. “Sounds good to me. Could you drain the pasta, please?”

  “Pass-ta,” Dylan repeated, using Cam’s accent. “I love the way you talk.”

  “I could say a few words in Latin if you like.”

  “Yeah? Like e pluribus unum and ix-nay on the arlic-gay?”

  “I thought you liked garlic.”

  “I’m kidding.” A big cloud of steam rose as Dylan drained the pot into a sieve. At least he’d had a few pots and pans for Cam to work with. Although his current state of existence seemed quite destitute, the confident way Dylan worked around the tiny kitchen made Cam wonder if he hadn’t grown up with better.

  “Hey, don’t look so serious,” Dylan said, glancing at him. “I got this. Even I can do spaghetti.”

  Cam relaxed his mouth into a smile. “I had no doubt. I was just thinking. About everything. Wondering…what you must be thinking.”

  “Hey, I don’t think much. No more than I absolutely gotta.”

  He slid the pan with the slices of garlic bread under the broiler, then straightened. “Still, you must be curious, about the weasel. About me.” He shrugged awkwardly, wiping his hands on a dishrag. “With everything that’s happened, I can’t believe you haven’t run away screaming or tossed me out.”

  “Hell, baby, it’s only been a few days. You gotta work harder than that to get me to toss you. I mean, you cook, you clean. You’re great in bed.”

  Cam actually felt his face flush. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Well, maybe we need another round to prove it.” He gave him a wry look. “Anyhow, I think you’re pretty fucking cool. Maybe I’m the one who should be getting kicked to the curb. If you knew more about me…”

  “I’d like to. Know more about you, that is. You started to tell me…”

  He shook his head. “Nah. There’s nothing worth knowing, anyhow. Everything I am, I am from this moment forward. That’s what they taught me.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head again and scratched the back of his neck. “People who helped me. Compared to me, you’re golden. I’ve definitely made my share of mistakes.”

  “Like what?” In his heart, he knew. Having been around the world, he’d seen the terrible state some humans sank to. But he felt Dylan needed to unburden himself. “I promise, there’s nothing you can say that would make me think less of you.”

  “Yeah? Even if I told you I was an addict? Am an addict. Recovering.” He didn’t lift his gaze from the steaming spaghetti. “Hate saying that still. You know, nobody wants to face it, but…” He dropped his fisted hand to the counter. “It is what it is.”

  “And that guy you said you were with. He was part of that?”

  “Oh yeah. We got into some deep shit together.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Cam asked, having to curl his fingers tight to stop from reaching out to Dylan. He didn’t want to do anything to stop him talking.

  “Sometimes. I guess. Sometimes…”

  Though it nearly killed him, Cam waited for Dylan to fill in the empty space.

  Instead, Dylan jerked up his head with a strained half-smile. “I don’t wanna talk about this shit now. Do you? I don’t.”

  His chest tightening, he recalled how Dylan had said he’d been tested for STDs several times in the past few months. He could read between the lines, knew more had gone on between Dylan and his ex than Dylan would say. “How long?” he asked gently. “Since you’ve been clean?”

  “Maybe six months. I figured I had to fix myself or lie down and die, and, well, quitting drugs aside, I never been a quitter. So I cleaned up best I could, got a job, got this place.” He swept his hand around grandly. “Dr. Martin was the first person to give me a chance.” He dumped the pasta into a plastic bowl. “Someday I’ll go back there and show her I’m okay.”

  With a sniff, he wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Anyhow, I don’t know why I’m bringing all this up now, except you seem so miserable about your wings and your funky eyes and the cake and the weasel and all that shit. I just want you to know…” He burst out in a dry laugh. “Guess I want you to know you’re not the only hard-luck story here. Hell, if wings were my only problem, I’d be pretty happy. Does that make you feel any better? Please tell me it does, or I’ll feel like a real fucking idiot.”

  Moved beyond words, he went to Dylan and put his arms around him, holding him tight, breathing him in, this wounded, kind soul who accepted him. “I don’t feel better knowing you had to go through all that. But if you hadn’t, I suppose we wouldn’t be here now. And I wouldn’t have you.”

  “Yeah, well, jury’s still out on whether that’s a good thing or not. But at least we got dinner.” Rubbing his cheek with the heel of his palm, Dylan straightened brusquely and stepped back as if nothing had been said, though Cam wondered at the sheen in his eyes. “So now you know the truth about me. Least the short-story version. Still not scared off?”

  “Not at all.” He wanted so badly to hold Dylan again but sensed he didn’t want coddling. Instead, he said, “I admire what you’ve done. You’ve come so far.”

  “Oh, hell, yeah, I’m living the dream.” He scuffed a laugh. “I got a long way to go, but at least I’m going. Sort of.” Then he took Cam’s hand loosely in his. “You’re all right too, you know. Don’t you worry. Everybody’s got baggage and stuff they wish no one would find out about. It’s a big world, with plenty of room for all kinds of people in it. Ple
nty of people more screwed up than us, believe it or not.”

  Cam tightened his fingers around Dylan’s, wondering if Dylan felt the slight trembling. “In your world, perhaps. Although I have to say, that’s good enough for me.”

  Dylan tipped his head, catching his gaze, his fearless knight in faded denim. “Let’s eat, huh?”

  The smell of the garlic bread starting to burn under the broiler was enough distraction to make Cam turn away, but his heart thundered and his knees felt a little watery. The ache in his belly disappeared under the weight of a staggering realization.

  He was falling in love with Dylan Brody.

  No, he was in love with him. Head over heels, heart and black, black soul.

  Over dinner, which was excellent, Dylan watched Cam. In fact, he could barely stop staring at the guy. He drank in the beauty of Cam’s face, the grace with which he lifted his fork to his mouth, the sweet warmth in his eyes. The more he was with Cam, the less Cam’s eyes zapped him, only leaving him pleasantly fizzy. In fact, he talked more just so Cam would lift his head and look at him. Was that bad? Like another addiction? Or was this the way people felt when they…felt shit for each other.

  Not wanting to think too deeply on that, he made himself look at the flame of one of the white pillars they’d lit. Seated on the air mattress once again—really romantic—they’d arranged a few in a row, and now the sun was down, they gave the room a nice glow that settled in the glossy black of Cam’s hair where it fell over his forehead. Great, there he was looking at Cam again.

  Dylan shook his head and finished the last of his garlic bread. “Everything was great, seriously. You cook like this all the time?”

  Cam laughed softly. “It’s just pasta. But yes, I like to cook. Since we travel all over, I’ve picked up some international cuisine here and there. I seem to have a knack for remembering recipes, or figuring out how to make a dish I’ve eaten. I like dissecting the spices in exotic dishes and trying to replicate them. It’s a little hobby of mine.”

  “That’s cool.” Dylan smiled at him, but suddenly Cam seemed shy, and the silence between them thickened a little. As dinner wound to a close, he remembered his promise to show Cam some new moves in bed. Oh yeah, he remembered. If he didn’t have halfway decent self-restraint, he would have already had Cam panting and sweating and naked. Mmm… He muffled a burp behind his fist and finished his beer. At least he’d never had a problem with alcohol. “If you want to cook something else, anytime, be my guest. God knows I don’t use the kitchen, such as it is.”

  “I’d like that, but…I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in the city.”

  He hid his disappointment by picking at the label on his bottle. “Oh yeah? That sucks. I was hoping we could hang out.”

  “Me too.” Cam pushed his plate aside and wiped his mouth with a paper towel. He stayed silent a moment, then said, “I don’t know when I might pass this way again, but if I do… Could I see you again?”

  “Yeah. Hell yeah.” And hell yeah, it sucked more than Dylan wanted to think about. He tried to act like it didn’t matter, even though the news left him a little thunderstruck. “Feels like we’re just getting started. I hate to see it end so soon. So yeah, anytime you’re around. Drop on by. Although…at the rate things are going, I’m not sure I’ll be here too much longer.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  He said it with such conviction that Dylan believed him. A shiver ran over his skin, reminding him he wasn’t dealing with just any other guy, but a…whatever Cam was.

  Before he dwelled on that particular dilemma, he said, “So you going off on some mystical adventure with your brother?”

  Lifting his own beer, Cam pulled his legs into a cross-legged position and shrugged. “I’m not sure. We’ll be assigned to go somewhere, by the…the other brothers.”

  “And these are…church brothers?”

  “Something like that. Close enough. They send us around the world seeking treasure.”

  Well, he was in a rare mood to talk. Maybe the three beers were helping. “Like, sunken treasure or what?”

  “Gold mostly. Gems. To fund charities for the church. Although if you ask them about us, they’ll deny we exist.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m saying so much. I keep telling myself not to, but… I’ve never had anyone to talk to before.” He looked worried, rolling his bottle between his palms. “I suppose it’s all right. Just don’t tell anyone else, or they’ll think you’re crazy.”

  “Like they don’t already. But don’t sweat it. I told you before, your secret’s safe with me. So…treasure, huh? You get to keep any of it?”

  He thumbed his gold chain. “Just this. I wouldn’t want it anyhow. I prefer to live simply.”

  “You don’t get much more simple than this.” Dylan lifted his hand to indicate his shitty apartment.

  “I like it, though. You have no one to answer to. No great responsibilities or obligations hanging over your head. No one else’s expectations to disappoint.”

  “No, I guess I got all the disappointing out of the way early.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Cam set down his beer and wiped his palms on his knees. “I envy you, that’s all. You have…all these choices ahead of you. And you’re free to make them. Where to work. Whether to go back to school. Where to live, who to live with. Who to love.”

  “I guess. Never really thought about it that way. In my mind, it’s more like, ‘Where the hell am I going to live,’ and ‘Who would hire a loser like me?’ You know?”

  “Loser? Hardly.” His tone sharpened with sincerity. “In all my travels, I’ve never met a man so open-minded, so kind and brave. When I saw you with Gertie in the alley, I was… Well, more than intrigued. I knew you were different.”

  He nodded. “Like you. You’re different too.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Did you know? Right from the start?”

  His innocent curiosity was sweet. “Sort of. You were so shy.” He reached out and put his hand over Cam’s on his knee. “And nervous. And horny.”

  Cam blushed and snatched his hand back. “How could you tell?”

  Dylan picked up his beer again and pointed the neck toward Cam’s crotch. “Wasn’t hard to figure out. Other things were hard.” He snorted a laugh, and Cam shook his head.

  “I’m terrible at this. Dealing with people.”

  “Give it time, baby. People ain’t all bad, especially when you realize they’re all carrying their own load of crap inside. They all look nice enough on the outside, but most people are pretty messed up, trust me.”

  He looked doubtful. “You’re the only one I feel comfortable around. Everyone else seems cold or suspicious. Or I trust them too easily and then get in trouble.”

  Dylan scootched closer and ran his hand over Cam’s thigh. “Well, you led a sheltered life, seems to me. It’s tough when you’re never in one place for a long time. I had a friend who was an army brat, kept having to pick up and move to wherever his dad was stationed. He learned not to get too close to people because he knew he’d just have to say good-bye again real soon. It was kind of sad.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly how I feel.”

  “Maybe it won’t always be that way. Someday, your brothers will let you go, and you’ll track me down with that”—he flipped his hand toward Cam’s collar—“Spidey sense of yours, and we’ll get together again.” He wrapped an arm around Cam’s back and pulled him closer, feeling warm muscle beneath the soft cotton of Cam’s shirt. “I’ll wait for you.”

  He meant it. Goddamn if he didn’t.

  “And I’ll have no one else but you.” Cam turned serious eyes to Dylan, and Dylan fell into them as always, though something felt different this time. Deeper, darker…like, right-down-to his-soul serious. Like…love serious.

  His heart started to kick up in his chest, and he leaned in to kiss Cam’s lips. Not a sex kiss, not wet and teasing, but one charged with whatever he was feeling. Love, lust, f
ear, need like a fiery spice on his tongue that needed to be shared. Cam opened up to him, breathing Dylan’s breath and curling his fingers tight around whatever body part he could reach—Dylan’s biceps, the small of his back, the hair at his nape. Wherever he touched, it felt urgent, like neither of them could wait a second longer.

  Dylan drew back, almost surprised just a minute had passed. “I want you. Want you now.”

  “Please,” was all Cam said before he unfolded his legs and lay down, drawing Dylan down with into another kiss.

  He’d never needed anybody like this, Dylan realized. Needed not just another body for sex, but craved just this one man. Wanted to fuck a guy not to piss off his parents or to earn a hot meal or to score a place to sleep or drugs to numb his broken heart. Just to be with Cam. Only Cam.

  Dylan evicted their plates from the air mattress with a sweep of his hand, not caring at all that they spilled onto the hard wood or that Cam’s beer dribbled a fizzy trail across the floor. He maneuvered them both so they lay fully on the awful, wheezing mattress—tried not to think about the embarrassment of not having a real bed—and then fit himself between Cam’s knees. He held up his weight on one elbow and pushed his fingers through Cam’s hair. He pressed his lips to the silky black eyebrows, one then the other. The gently closed eyelids. The tip of Cam’s nose. His parted lips. His chin.

  All the while, Dylan moved his hips in a small, slow circle, enticing Cam’s cock to hardness, letting him feel his own stiff dick through their jeans. Yeah, he’d take this one slow. Make this one matter. He didn’t want to think they might not have much time left.

  “I know just what I want to do to you tonight.” He stared into Cam’s half-opened, dazed eyes. “You up for it?”

  “I’m all yours,” Cam whispered.

  He watched as Dylan sat up on his knees and pulled his T-shirt over his head, leaving his hair standing in waves, as if Cam had plowed his fingers through it—which he yearned to do. But he made himself lie still on the mattress while his lover undressed, pushing down his worn jeans, his thick rod already full and hard. Cam licked his lips. He wanted to taste that again. Nearly whimpered with the need to please his lover.