Camwolf

by J. L. Merrow

  She left, closing the door softly behind her. It seemed only moments later that Nick heard Julian’s hesitant knock and, with a sense of inevitability, rose to answer the door.

  It felt almost surreal, having Julian walk back into his rooms. It must have been less than a week since the last time he was here—but it felt more like a lifetime.

  “Nick?” Julian said, his voice uncertain. He looked as pale as death, Nick realised, and his eyes were wild, his hair untidy. What had it cost him to walk through town on his own, to come to face the man who’d rejected him? Pain slashed at Nick once more. He’d given up all rights to Julian. Christ, what had he been thinking of?

  Julian’s voice was even softer as he spoke again. “You said…you said you were sorry. Why were you sorry?”

  Nick was startled into a laugh. “Christ, Julian, you want a list?” He looked away, trying to reconcile the conflicting emotions that were tearing him apart. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

  “Yes. They didn’t want me to come.” Julian’s gaze, at first defiant, now sank to the carpet.

  “Why did you?” Nick cursed himself for how bloody unwelcoming that sounded. “I mean, not that I don’t want you here…” He trailed off. That had, after all, been more or less what he’d said back in the hotel.

  Julian shrugged, a small, tense movement. “Tiff thought that I was wrong about how you felt about me.” His arms moved jerkily, as if he’d been about to hug himself once more, but had fought down the impulse. Nick ached to do it for him. “I should be the one to say sorry,” Julian continued at last. “I should not have gone with Boris.”

  “Did you have a choice?” Nick forced himself to ask. His heart seemed to race as he waited for Julian’s answer.

  “I…I tried to run.” Julian shuddered. Nick’s anger rose at the thought of him being pursued by that monster. “It was my fault Andrew was killed. I led Boris to him.”

  Andrew. Nick felt suddenly cold. “You knew the man who was murdered? What was he—another of your back-alley blowjob regulars?”

  Julian flinched. “He was not a regular. None of them were.”

  For God’s sake, how many had there been? “But you had—Christ, is that what you were doing when Schräger found you?”

  Julian’s head came up defiantly. “No. We spoke, and I told Andrew I had made a mistake in coming into town. I was going to come back to college.”

  He’d been going to come back… “So, what did Schräger say to make you change your mind?” Nick was being unfair, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Christ, the bastard had just killed a man in front of Julian, was it any wonder the boy had been too frightened to disobey? “Julian, I’m sorry—”

  “I don’t understand you, Nick.” Julian’s hand brushed through his hair distractedly. “I think I know what you want, but then you say you do not want it. And then you act as though I was right the first time. I don’t know how you want me to behave!”

  Nick stared. “Julian, I don’t want you to act a certain way to please me. That’s not love! That’s some kind of bloody Pygmalion complex.” He realised his fists were clenched and relaxed them with difficulty. He wanted to kill Schräger all over again, and Herrscher, and anyone else who’d had a hand in making the boy believe he was no more than a puppet.

  Julian’s eyes were wide. “You love me?”

  He had said that, hadn’t he? Or as good as. Nick felt a curious lightness in his chest. “Christ, Julian, isn’t it obvious by now?”

  “I don’t understand love,” Julian said softly.

  Something inside Nick broke at that. “I know. It’s all right. I’ll teach you.” He took two short paces forward and then, finally, took Julian in his arms. He smelt rather strongly of soap and shampoo, but under it all Nick could still detect Julian’s own unique scent, and it crept under his skin and penetrated his heart. “I thought you’d be better off without me,” he whispered, even as he pressed their bodies together.

  “Never,” Julian whispered back, nuzzling into Nick’s neck in a way that left him breathless. Nick hadn’t meant to do anything other than hold the boy, but suddenly he was kissing him savagely. If Julian hesitated before kissing him back, Nick wasn’t aware of it. He surrendered eagerly to the onslaught, his lips parting to allow Nick to taste every corner of his mouth. Nick groaned. He was achingly hard and filled with the urge to reclaim his mate. Almost without thinking, he began to tug at Julian’s shirt.

  Julian froze. His sudden stillness brought Nick to his senses. Christ, what was he thinking of? Julian had been abducted, abused…“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking Julian’s hair. “It’s all right. We don’t have to—”

  In answer, Julian stepped back half a pace and pulled off his sweater, then stood there, trembling slightly. Nick’s jaw clenched at the sight of the mottled bruises, the half-healed cuts that marred that creamy flesh, and then slender fingers were upon his chin, tilting his head upward to meet Julian’s troubled gaze. “Don’t look, Nick. Please.”

  For a heartbeat, Nick just stared at him. Then he nodded slightly and bent once more to meet Julian’s lips in a kiss. He pulled Julian to him more gently this time, feeling the curves of his arse, moaning a little as his erection dug into the flat planes of Julian’s stomach. Then Julian’s hands trembled on the fastenings of Nick’s trousers, unzipped them and freed his painfully rigid cock. Guessing what was to come, Nick caught Julian by the elbows as he began to sink to his knees. “Not this time.”

  Undoing Julian’s trousers, he reached for that slender cock and felt it twitch and firm in his hand. Julian gasped, a high, breathy sound, as Nick wrapped his hand around them both and started to work them together. Their lips met once more, and there was a new desperation in Julian’s kiss. No longer just yielding to Nick’s attentions, he seized the initiative, nipping and biting at Nick’s tongue and lips, then moving down to his throat. All hesitation swept aside by Julian’s boldness, Nick tightened his hand on their cocks and sped up his motion.

  Julian was moaning now as his cock moved repeatedly through Nick’s grasp. As his cries grew louder Nick felt drunk on desire for this beautiful boy who’d almost been snatched away from him. “Mine,” he growled—and Julian shuddered in his arms as hot come shot up between them. Nick felt a wave of heat and lust explode through his body and he was coming too, their seed mingling on their bellies and soaking into Nick’s shirt.

  They clung to one another for long minutes afterward, then, as his breathing slowed and the chill of his rooms began to make itself known, Nick stripped off his soiled shirt and used it to wipe Julian clean. Their mingled scent would remain, Nick knew, and that was just how he wanted it. “Come to bed,” he said softly, and they padded to the bedroom and slipped under the duvet together.

  “So,” Julian said with a pale ghost of his old smile as he settled down in Nick’s arms, “you don’t think I’d be better off without you now?”

  His heart light, Nick kissed him. “No.” Did he really believe that, or was it just selfish relief at having his lover back? “You…you have to tell me if I do things you don’t like. Talk to me—don’t just run off for a bit of comfort elsewhere.” He took a deep breath and cupped Julian’s face in one hand. “I know you need…an alpha, and I suspect I’d find it difficult in any case not to play that role. But it doesn’t mean you don’t have a voice in our relationship.”

  Julian bit his lip and nodded. “I’m sorry I…reacted badly when you said you didn’t want me to live with you. I should have realised—”

  “I was a bloody idiot.” Nick said sharply. He gave a lopsided smile. “I should have realised in any case that the chances of keeping our relationship a secret were ridiculously small in a place like this. I’m afraid I’m a little too used to having to keep my own counsel, to not let anyone know too much about me. Having to hide what I am…” Nick’s stomach lurched as he remembered. “The police suspect. Or at least, Inspector Phillips does.”

  “Suspect what
? That we are werewolves?”

  “That I am, at any rate. He handed me a silver cross to hold, then looked terribly disappointed when I didn’t scream in agony or burst into flames or whatever the hell was supposed to happen.” Nick grimaced. “Just as well that little piece of folklore isn’t true. It’d make using the silver cutlery on High Table damned awkward.”

  His heart leapt as Julian wrapped two slender arms around his waist and rested a tousled blond head on his shoulder. “Do you think we are in danger?”

  “I hope not. Not if we’re careful, I think. He doesn’t seem certain of anything—except for the fact he hates my guts—and he’d be risking his career to speak of his suspicions to anyone without some damned convincing proof.” Nick sighed. “What about your father? Herrscher. Do you really think he wants you back?”

  “I think he wants to frighten my mother. How far he will go in this, I don’t know.” Julian’s arms tightened on his waist. “I don’t want to go back with him.”

  “God, of course not!”

  Julian was silent for a moment. “I was going to tell you I would.”

  “What?”

  “If you had told me to go back to my mother, to stay away from you. I would have told you I’d rather return to my father, if you didn’t want me.”

  Nick tipped Julian’s chin up so that their eyes met. “What if I’d called your bluff?”

  Julian tensed. “If you’d been that disgusted with me, I wouldn’t have cared what happened to me.”

  “Disgusted?” Nick shook his head. “Julian, you must never doubt that I want you. Whatever happens. Understand? Even if we have other rows. Never doubt me. I love you.”

  Julian murmured something Nick didn’t catch and buried his face in Nick’s neck once more.

  Nick stroked his lover’s pale hair. Yes, he thought—he’d made the right decision. Thank God. This was how he could prove himself better than that bastard Schräger—by protecting Julian. Nurturing him. Loving him like he deserved.

  And maybe he should find out where Matthew was living these days and check if he was all right, if he needed anything. Or make a donation to a domestic abuse charity. He should have done those things long ago, Nick realised. It was time to start taking responsibility for the consequences of his actions.

  Time to recognise just how damned lucky he was that things had ended up so well with Julian.

  Crack had lurked around somewhere and accosted Tiff after she’d seen Julian off. He was now lying stretched out on Tiff’s bed, his pointy black boots thoughtfully hanging off the end so as not to mark the duvet cover. Clearly his mum had at least attempted to bring him up properly. He yawned, showing annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you think they’re shagging now?”

  Tiff spilled half the coffee she was spooning into a mug and cursed under her breath. “Why? Bi-curious, are you?”

  Crack laughed and shuddered theatrically. She half expected to hear his bones rustling like dry twigs. “Ew. No thanks. I’m straight as an arrow, me.”

  Give him a pointy hat and you could probably use him as one, she thought maliciously. You’d need a bloody big bow, though. She paused, carton of milk in hand. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Dr. Pawlaczek and Marjorie are a really sweet couple, aren’t they? I’d like to have a relationship like that some day.”

  Crack’s face fell, and Tiff sniffed at the milk to hide her grin. “White? I think it’s all right.”

  “Nah, leave it if it’s a bit iffy. Black’s fine.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that was your favourite colour. Hunting pink not your thing, Caractacus?” She held out the mug of coffee.

  Crack blushed as he sat up to take it. “Look, you’re not going to tell anyone about that, are you?”

  “Now come off it! Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re ashamed of being posh?”

  He shrugged. He was almost sweet when he was embarrassed, in a weird, skeletal kind of way. “It’s just—I’ve always been, well, my parents’ son, you know? I thought coming here would give me a chance to get away from the whole public-schoolboy thing. Be someone different.”

  Tiff was still for a moment, then sat next to him. “Yeah. I know what that’s like. Not the public-school bit, obviously, but yeah.” She stared down at his bony knees. “So, how’s that working out for you?”

  He shrugged again. “Squatting’s not all it’s cracked up to be, to tell the truth. The neighbours all hate us, and the girls never clean the bathroom. The drain’s all clogged up with their hair. It’s disgusting.” He looked up suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “’Course not,” Tiff lied, trying to straighten her face. “I bet you’re going to tell me you’re not even a drug dealer.”

  Crack stared. “What? Of course not. That stuff’s really bad for you, you know.”

  “You do realise you’re destroying all my illusions, don’t you?” She grinned. “Want a biscuit?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nick lay curled around Julian under the duvet. He couldn’t have explained the desperate need he felt for as much skin-on-skin contact with Julian as he could get. He could only feel it and be profoundly grateful Julian seemed to feel the same way—not that he’d have been able to distance himself from Nick greatly without actually falling out of bed. Fellows being generally supposed to be dry, sexless creatures who used beds only for sleeping, it was so narrow they were pressed together as much out of physical necessity as emotional. Nick thought he’d be happy to stay like this for the rest of his life.

  Unfortunately his stomach had other ideas. It grumbled loudly to remind Nick he hadn’t catered to it all day.

  Julian kissed him. “It is about time for Hall, isn’t it? Perhaps we should get up.”

  “It’s about time these colleges discovered room service,” Nick said drowsily. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’ll live,” Julian answered quietly.

  Nick sighed, cursing his sense of responsibility. “No, I suppose we should get up. Let’s not go to Hall, though. I’d rather be somewhere we can at least sit at the same bloody table. What kind of food do you like? Greek all right?”

  “Anything.”

  “Julian…”

  “I mean it. I like all kinds of food. Greek would be fine.” Julian shifted and stretched. Nick found his libido stirring once more at the sight of those long, pale limbs. Unthinking, he reached out and grabbed Julian by the hips, pulling him close again.

  Julian gave a little hiss of pain. Christ, the bruises. How could he have forgotten?

  “It’s all right,” Julian said too quickly, his voice thin.

  “No, it’s not.” Nick’s throat felt suddenly tight. He wanted to thump the headboard, the wall—anything—but he could imagine how Julian would flinch at that. God knew, he didn’t want to frighten him. Would that bastard ever be truly dead?

  He forced himself to take a few deep breaths. It was over. He’d won. “Come on. Let’s go and get dinner.”

  Thessaloniki was a small, family-run restaurant that served excellent food in an intimate atmosphere. It was also just a touch too pricy for most students, meaning there hopefully wouldn’t be anyone there they knew. Not that Nick gave a damn anymore whether anyone knew about him and Julian—which, admittedly, was just as well, seeing as most of the college population at least had spent the last couple of days half-convinced he was not only Julian’s lover, but his murderer to boot. He just wasn’t in the mood to deal with people trying to conceal their nosiness under a mask of concern. He asked for a table downstairs, in the cellar room with its whitewashed walls and archways.

  The mingled aromas of cinnamon and garlic flooded Nick’s nostrils as they walked down the spiral staircase and across the tiled floor, their tread sounding curiously quiet next to that of the waiter who led them to their table. Nick’s stomach clenched plaintively, and he barely managed to cover its embarrassingly loud rumble by pulling out his chair with an earsplitting scrape over the tiles.

  If he
was honest with himself, Nick thought ruefully as he opened the menu, the place was a touch pricy for college fellows as well. But damn it, didn’t they deserve a celebration?

  He certainly needed food. He was starting to feel a little lightheaded.

  “Are you all right?” Julian asked.

  Startled, Nick looked up. “Why?”

  “You haven’t spoken.”

  Nick gave a tired smile and reached over the table to take Julian’s hand. “I think it’s all starting to catch up with me. Plus, I realised earlier that I haven’t actually eaten today.”

  “Then perhaps we shouldn’t have wine?” In that pale face, Julian’s smile was almost mischievous. “I don’t want you falling asleep on me later.”

  “Oh?” Pleased to see some of his old spirit returning, Nick raised an eyebrow. “That’s a shame, as that was exactly what I was planning to do later.” He paused significantly. “Much, much later.” Worried he might have gone a little too far with the teasing, he squeezed Julian’s hand. “But we won’t do anything unless you want to.”

  Julian seemed to be struggling with his reply. “I… Nick, this is different. You’re different.”

  Nick was afraid to ask what he meant. He settled for “Good, different?” and Julian looked relieved.

  “Yes.” He looked down at his menu, reminding Nick that they were supposed to be choosing their food. Nick cast his eye over the list and picked the first dish that caught his eye, lamb kleftiko with rice. “Oh, to hell with it. Let’s get a bottle of Merlot. You’ll just have to kick me if I fall asleep.”

  “You may come to regret saying that,” Julian said, one eyebrow arched in an elegant bow.

  Nick grinned. He’d missed that eyebrow.

  Nick had finished his kleftiko and was watching Julian fork up the last of his salad when his mobile phone rang. About to just switch it off, he noticed the caller ID. Herrscher.