Love Eternal

by Nikki McCoy

  He’d never known it could feel like this. The hot rasp of Tailor’s tongue on his sensitive flesh and the press of his lips were almost more than he could bear. He curled his fists to keep from moving as Tailor quickened his pace. The friction blazed along Dhani’s nerves and his balls drew up tight, preparing for his imminent climax.

  Then Tailor gently cupped his balls and pulled them down, stemming Dhani’s release. He groaned loudly in frustration.

  Tailor chuckled softly. “I’m not letting you off so easily. I owe you for that mean left hook.” He stood up and began stripping out of his clothes.

  Dhani laughed. “You deserved that.” He watched as Tailor grabbed a bottle of lube from his nightstand then climbed back onto the bed, placing Dhani’s legs over his thighs.

  Tailor poured the lube onto his fingers then started to massage Dhani’s hole. He leaned forward and stared into Dhani’s eyes unerringly. “I deserve a lot of things, but I’ve never deserved you.” He inserted one finger and rotated it, then a second and third.

  Dhani let himself relax, caught in the force of Tailor’s gaze. The impact of his mate’s statement humbled him and made his eyes fill with moisture. It should be the other way around. He was the one who didn’t deserve Tailor. His mate was a man of action, and all Dhani had done was run from the pain in his life. He couldn’t look away, though, and couldn’t deny how much Tailor wanted his trust.

  Another sensation hit him when Tailor twisted his fingers and hooked them forward, grazing his prostate. They rubbed it mercilessly, causing blood to engorge his member to the point of pain. He reached down to alleviate the pressure, but Tailor pushed his hand away.

  “That’s mine,” Tailor said, full authority in his voice, which only made Dhani squirm with need. Tailor poured more lube onto his considerable length then placed the tip of his cock at Dhani’s entrance. When Dhani closed his eyes, Tailor brought their bodies together and whispered above him, “Open your eyes, daishen. I want you to see me.”

  As soon as Dhani obeyed, Tailor pushed into him slowly, filling him completely. The burn of entry was quickly replaced by a sense of thrilling contentment so deep, he could only cling to Tailor’s large torso. This was nothing like his dreams. It was so much better and frightening at the same time. He felt like he was where he should’ve been all his life. Like he had finally found where he belonged. And he was suddenly scared to death of losing it.

  “Stop,” Tailor told him. “I can feel your fear coming back. Don’t think of anything except me. I’m here, right now, and I’m never going to let you go again.”

  A single tear escaped before Dhani could blink it away. Tailor caught it with his tongue then captured Dhani’s mouth with his. He pulled out and thrust back in over and over again, burying himself deeper each time.

  Dhani clutched his mate’s broad shoulders to anchor himself as the penetrating force of his mate’s unyielding length drove the fears from his mind. He moaned into Tailor’s mouth, needing more, craving all of him.

  Tailor lifted Dhani’s legs higher and began to pump furiously. The new angle placed the head of his cock in a direct line with Dhani’s prostate, making Dhani cry out with need. He was so close. Then Tailor gripped his cock and began stroking in time with his thrusts.

  Dhani’s body seemed to shatter into a million pieces as his orgasm bowled through him. He shouted into his mate’s mouth, every muscle in his body tensing with the depth of his release. The strength of his orgasm was prolonged as Tailor slammed into him harder until he found his own climax. Tailor buried his face in Dhani’s neck and moaned, his body shaking with aftershocks.

  They lay tangled in each other for some time. Tailor’s heavy weight made it impossible for Dhani to take a full breath, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to move at all. Everything was so perfect.

  This was the memory he wanted to cling to, no matter what happened.

  Eventually, Tailor slid off to resituate the comforter on top of them. He pulled Dhani’s head onto his chest and pressed his cheek to Dhani’s brow. “Thank you,” he murmured, “for giving me back my life.”

  Dhani’s eyes pricked with more tears. So this is what it feels like, he thought, to be cherished and wanted. He moved closer to wrap himself around Tailor’s large breadth and gave in to the lure of sleep, wishing, in the back of his mind, that he might never wake up.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Dhani awoke to the smell of coffee and the distant sound of a buzz saw. He was alone in Tailor’s bed with no sign of his mate anywhere. On the nightstand was a tray of food and a note.

  Good morning, daishen.

  I’m in the library. Join me after you eat.

  T

  Dhani smiled at the pet name. He ate the food then barely remembered to shower and dress in his hurry to get to the library. After he washed his dishes in the kitchen, he made his way to the other end of the cabin.

  Just as he approached, apprehension gripped him. He wasn’t sure how Tailor would react to him after last night. While it had been amazing, the circumstances surrounding it hadn’t exactly been normal, and their relationship was still new. What if Tailor was under the impression that Dhani’s eagerness had been a sign of commitment to their bond? Or worse, what if he’d felt the darkness in Dhani and wanted to have nothing more to do with him?

  Dhani forced himself to step into the library. Tailor was using a saw to cut more shelves from a long plank of wood. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and a bandana was tied around his hair. The sharp definition of his muscles was plain to see in the light streaming in from the open windows. Once again, Dhani was struck by how magnificent the man was, and how much he paled in comparison. Quinn’s words on the matter came back to him, yet they gave him little comfort.

  Tailor must have sensed his energy because he stopped to look directly at Dhani. He took off his gloves and safety glasses then strode to Dhani and kissed him. The kiss was light yet passionate, just enough to remind Dhani of the delicious aches in his body from last night.

  “Did you sleep well?” Tailor asked.

  Heat rose in Dhani’s cheeks. “Yeah.”

  “Did you eat?”

  He rolled his eyes at that. “Yes, your highness. I ate.”

  Tailor grinned. “Good. We’ll be finishing the shelves today. Can you grab some more supports? They should be in that box over there,” he said, tilting his head toward the back of the room.

  Relief washed over Dhani at the casual attitude of his mate. Perhaps Tailor thought Dhani had wanted him out of jealousy. If that was the case, Dhani was fine with that. After all, it was partly true. Before he could get the supports, however, Tailor stayed him with a hand on his wrist.

  “Is more of your hair turning white?”

  Alarm spread through Dhani as he reached up to touch the white streak. He’d forgotten to hide most of it after his shower. He quickly flipped his red hair over to mask as much of the white as he could. “I don’t know. Guess I haven’t noticed it.” He held his breath, hoping his mate wouldn’t detect the lie in his energy.

  Fortunately, Tailor merely frowned and let him go.

  They spent the entire day completing the bookshelves, stopping only for lunch and dinner. Although the work was exhausting, Dhani was thankful for the chance to exercise his body. He’d been trapped inside it for too long and working with his hands was something he’d always loved. Somehow, Tailor could sense when he was pushing himself too hard and would purposefully change what he was doing to give Dhani an easier task. Such as fishing the wires going to the ceiling fan or handing Tailor nails for the top shelves.

  If Dhani wasn’t so out of shape, he might have been offended that Tailor thought he couldn’t keep up. But for now, he was only grateful.

  Tailor also kept a conversation going throughout the long hours. He never once made Dhani feel uncomfortable or pried into the harsh realities of his past, even though Dhani was sure he had to be aware of them. In turn, Dhani found himself revealing m
ore than he had to anyone other than his friend, Keenan. His likes and dislikes. Some of the challenges he had faced while living in Detroit as well as the few friends he’d had in the community he’d grown up in.

  Tailor was so easy to talk to that Dhani had to catch himself several times from saying too much. He didn’t want to tell his mate about his parents or the abuse he’d suffered during the two and a half years he’d spent in captivity with Keenan.

  While he was aware of the abuse Tailor had gone through, and that Tailor probably wouldn’t hold his past against him, he didn’t want his mate to see him any differently. When most people heard of abuse, their attitudes changed to one of disdain or pity. Dhani couldn’t stand the thought of his mate looking upon him with either one.

  At the end of the day, Tailor walked him to his room and gave him a chaste kiss goodnight. Dhani showered again to wash off dust and sweat, then lay in bed. Every muscle in his body was sore and he was more tired than he could remember being in a long time. Yet, sleep wouldn’t come.

  His thoughts circled around his mate and how much Tailor had changed since they’d last met. He seemed happy now. Content. It was still hard to believe the man had spent the last year searching for him. And even harder to believe Tailor wanted him now as much as he wanted Tailor. It was like a fairytale come true.

  Only this fairytale was an illusion.

  Eventually, Dhani knew he would have to leave, and the illusion would be over.

  He tossed aside his covers and went to the window. Outside, the moon and stars glittered brilliantly over the forest beyond. In a nearby tree, he spotted an owl resting on a low-hanging branch. When the owl looked his way, its yellow eyes sparked a memory Dhani had forgotten in the madness of the past year.

  He had seen the golden eyes of a bird staring at him from the other side of a window before. He wracked his brain, trying to recall, then the memory came back to him swiftly.

  When he had been rescued from the band of rogue Vam’kir and taken to this community for the first time with Keenan, he’d been sick with pneumonia. For days on end, he’d been confined to his room, restless but unable to shift and enjoy the forests that had been denied him for so long. Every night, he had stared out of his window, taking in the beautiful scenery. And every night, there had been an eagle sitting in one of the nearby trees, staring at his window as if watching over him.

  When Dhani had learned that his mate’s spirit was an eagle, he’d had no doubt it had been Tailor watching him. It was one of the reasons why he’d refused to give up on the man. If Tailor had truly wanted to dismiss him, he wouldn’t have spent every night perched within view of Dhani’s bedroom window.

  The memory made Dhani shiver. He turned around to look at the expanse of his room. It was pleasant, well-furnished…and empty. Everything reflected the personal nature of his mate, but his mate wasn’t there.

  On impulse, he slipped into the hallway and went to the next door down. He raised his hand to knock then changed his mind. As quietly as possible, he crept inside and closed the door behind him. The room was dark with only the faint glow of moonlight coming in through the open curtains. Tailor’s large figure stood in front of the window, staring out just as Dhani had a minute ago.

  Tailor turned at the sound of the door closing and didn’t move for several seconds. Then, without a word, he crossed the room and pulled Dhani into his arms, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

  The anxiety Dhani felt at going to his mate was dispelled when Tailor led him to the bed and pulled the covers over him. Tailor climbed in next to him and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

  There, in the silence of the room, Tailor murmured, “You are mine.”

  It was said with such possession that a shiver ran up Dhani’s spine. Warmth flooded his chest and he curled closer into his mate’s arms. A feeling of peacefulness encased him as sleep finally took hold and his head was filled with Tailor’s comforting scent.

  * * * *

  Tailor glared at the directions on the pancake mix box then down at the concoction in the mixing bowl. Somehow, it had come out lumpy and slightly brown. It didn’t appear to look like it should but he was sure he’d read the directions correctly. He shrugged and poured a good amount into the heated waffle maker. Pancake mix overflowed everywhere when he closed the lid, sticking to his fingers when he tried to scoop it back in.

  He muttered a curse, then paused to sniff the air. Something was burning. Thin wisps of smoke were coming from the frying pan he’d filled with scrambled eggs. He cursed again as he grabbed a spatula to scrape them from the bottom of the pan. They stuck together when he flipped them like one large fried egg, soggy on one side and burnt on the other.

  More smoke was coming from the oven door and when he opened it, billows rolled out, making him cough. The fire alarm blared to life and this time, he let out a string of invectives that didn’t stop until he’d turned off the alarm. He opened the windows and snatched up a towel to wave the smoke out.

  When laughter came from behind him, he turned to find Dhani standing in the doorway with amusement dancing in his eyes. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, displaying the handsome angles of his face, and his clothes were snug on his lean body.

  “Issues?” Dhani asked.

  Tailor scowled at the strips of black bacon in the oven. “I’m thinking we should go out to breakfast.”

  With a smirk, Dhani walked over to look at the food. “Bacon, waffles and…what is that?” he asked, pointing at the eggs.

  Tailor gave it some thought, then answered, “A charred egg pancake.”

  Dhani laughed again. “Why did you buy this food if you can’t cook it?”

  “I didn’t,” he grumbled as he washed his hands. “Quinn did. He threatened to maim me if I didn’t feed you real food.”

  “Quinn?”

  “That little man can get mean when he wants to.” Tailor wasn’t joking in the slightest. Quinn had always been small like Dhani, and timid, but being around Manning’s confidence had given him a steel backbone. Tailor had a feeling Dhani would turn out to be the same way and find his confidence if Tailor could just get his mate to come out of his shell. Dhani already had no trouble displaying his anger, as Tailor’s jaw could attest to.

  “So if you can’t cook, what do you usually eat, aside from the sandwiches we’ve been living off of for the past few days?” Dhani moved the dishes to the side then began rummaging through the fridge.

  “I can live off the land and use a microwave better than anyone I know. It’s the rest of the kitchen that has a problem with me.”

  Dhani cast him a derisive glance with one eyebrow raised. “I don’t get it. Why did you buy all this incredible, antique cookware and appliances if you never use them?”

  Tailor sat at the small breakfast table and watched his mate prepare another batch of eggs and pancake mix. “My guests love it. Makes them want to cook for me.”

  When Dhani raised both brows, he lifted his hands in defense. “Just friends, I swear.” He grinned after Dhani went back to the stove. Yeah, that backbone was coming along nicely. Maybe he should teach his mate how to fight, or at least defend himself. It would boost Dhani’s self-assurance and give Tailor a little peace of mind when he decided to go back to work.

  “So how did you learn to cook?” Tailor asked.

  “There was an old woman in my neighborhood of the community I grew up in. She would invite me over to eat when she knew my…when she thought I might be hungry.”

  When his foster parents refused to feed him, Tailor heard between the lines. He knew well the shame that came from having to accept charity when you were starving. On more than a few occasions, his own father had forbidden him to eat until he’d learned how to hunt on his own. He’d been seven when his father had started enforcing that rule, years before he’d been able to shift and track animals easily in his spirit form.

  “She taught me how to cook,” Dhani continued with a reminiscent smile. “She was really n
ice.”

  Tailor knew he probably shouldn’t broach the subject, but he had to know. “This woman was aware that your foster parents were starving you, wasn’t she?” The stiffening of his mate’s back gave him his answer. “Why didn’t she report it? The Alpha of your community would’ve found a new home for you immediately. That’s part of their job.”

  Dhani whirled around and thinned his lips in anger. “Did anyone report the abuse your father put you through?”

  He waited patiently for his mate to calm down. They both knew this wasn’t about him. Besides, he’d been just enough of a stubborn idiot in his youth to be determined to handle anything his father dished out. He hadn’t wanted help.

  Dhani sighed and went back to cleaning the waffle maker. “I told her not to. Throughout the years, my foster parents took in other kids temporarily. I was the only one they kept permanently. I knew if I wasn’t there, my foster parents would beat them as well. So long as I stayed, I could make sure I was the only one who…suffered.”

  The last word was hesitant, and it was all Tailor could do to keep his rage from bleeding into his energy. He was well aware of everything the word ‘suffered’ entailed for his mate.

  Cy walked in and instantly covered his nose with one hand. “Whoa, what died in here?”

  Tailor dropped the conversation and slanted a glance at the man. “My ego.”

  Cy peered over Dhani’s shoulder at the fresh food cooking. “Your ego should be glad you have a mate who knows how to cook. Especially since he’s willing to cook for you.”

  “Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” Tailor asked in annoyance.

  “It’s fun?” Cy replied, taking a water bottle from the fridge. “I’d love to go on, but there is actually something I need to discuss with you. Dhani, mind if I borrow your mate for a minute?”