by K. C. Wells
“Cut it out.”
Hart scowled and rolled Dayton over to face him. “How can you be cranky?”
Dayton wiggled around and buried his face in Hart’s neck. “Not cranky. Sated. Sleepy. Hungry. Oh yeah. Really hungry.”
His stomach growled and gurgled, and Dayton slapped his hand over it.
“I can get you some food.”
“Not yet. I’m comfortable.”
Hart threw his thigh over Dayton’s and pulled him closer. His mate sighed his contentment.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Nope. Well, a little, but not in a bad way. I’m going to feel that for a week.” He sighed again.
“You’re going to feel it forever.” Hart grinned. Officially forever.
“Stop grinning.”
Hart tilted Dayton’s head up. “You are cranky.”
Dayton laughed and propped his head up on his hand. “No, just… happy? But I’m being grumpy. I’m random like that.”
Hart kissed him quickly, licked at Dayton’s red and swollen lips. “It’s because you’re hungry. You haven’t been eating.”
“Well, I had a lot on my mind. Too busy thinking to eat.”
Hart huffed and untangled himself from his mate’s body. “Not too busy now. Come on.”
“I don’t want to.”
Hart grumbled and scooped Dayton up. He made sure his mate was steady on his feet before leading him into the kitchen. He hid his smirk at the hitch in Dayton’s step.
“I saw that,” Dayton grumbled.
“What have you got to eat?”
Dayton shrugged. “I think I have some cereal.”
“Cereal?”
“What? I haven’t been shopping in a week.”
Hart opened the freezer and stared at the large bag of pizza rolls. “I’m not eating that.”
“They’re good.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And they only take, like, five minutes to cook.”
That tempted Hart. He pulled the bag from the freezer and preheated the oven. An open bag of chips sat on top of the fridge, so he pulled them down and took off the clip that pinned the bag closed. “Now these, I’ll eat.”
“Sour cream and onion. My favorite.” Dayton knocked Hart’s hand aside and grabbed a handful. He munched and stared at Hart.
“What?” His mate’s face was serious, frown lines marring the forehead that had only minutes ago been relaxed.
“Tawny said you’re the alpha now.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“No?”
“Not even a little. I guess when I stormed over there, I wasn’t thinking about anything but you. He hurt you, and I couldn’t let my father make you choose. I know what it’s like to leave them behind, and I wouldn’t do that to you. Wouldn’t let him do it to you.” He reached over and ran his fingers through Dayton’s mussed hair. “I love you. You’re my mate, my reason for doing all this.”
“I just hate that it meant beating your father. I like him, you know?”
“I do too. Most days. But you’ve seen how the pride has been the last few years. It’s like he lost the will to lead. He could’ve fought me harder. Part of me thinks he wanted me to win.”
“Maybe so.”
Hart considered the parting words he’d overheard as he left the pride house. “About time.” Yeah, the pride had been waiting for something, a change in the regime. His sister was a master manipulator, although her motives were generally pure. A true lioness, she’d fight to the death for her pride, and if giving Hart a poke by showing up with Dayton’s scent meant he’d finally been able to claim his mate, well, he owed her flowers or something.
Dayton chomped down on another handful of chips. His mate looked blissed out, his face relaxed into a half smile.
Hart grabbed a couple of glasses out of the cabinet and poured them both tea.
Dayton gulped his down and smiled up at Hart.
That smile. It sent flutters through his stomach. He’d give anything to keep it there, to keep Dayton happy and healthy. The timer beeped, and Hart took their makeshift dinner out of the oven.
“Let them cool for a bit,” Dayton said with a grin.
“You’re less grumpy now.”
Dayton shrugged. “Low blood sugar or something. I think my emotions are on a roller coaster.”
“No regrets?”
“About mating you? No. Although I would like to know what comes next.”
“So would I. We’ll go see my father. I’ve never known another pride, so I don’t know what will happen next.”
“Let’s go after we eat, then.” Dayton eyed the pan on top of the oven hungrily.
Hart scraped the rolls onto a plate and sat them in front of Dayton.
His mate popped one in his mouth and hissed out a breath around it. “Too hot,” he mumbled around his food.
“How about we skip these and hit a drive-thru? We can go talk to my dad now.”
“Okay, but I’m taking the chips.”
They laughed, and Hart pulled Dayton to his feet. “I’m happy. Whatever happens with the pride, I want you to know that I’ve cared about you for so long. Even when we were apart, you were never far from my thoughts.”
“So now you get romantic?”
Hart shrugged. “I’m stoic.”
“Pfft. Stoic, my ass. You’re just used to getting what you want. In this case, I’m glad it was me.”
“Always. From the moment I knew you were meant to be mine.”
Dayton led the way to the bathroom and started the shower. After a quick wash for them both, they dressed and returned to Malachi’s house.
Half the pride waited in front of the house. Tawny whooped when Dayton climbed out of the car. She ran to him and grabbed him into a huge hug. “Thank God,” she murmured into his hair. Dayton almost lost his grip on the supersized drink he’d ordered from the fast-food place.
Hart rolled his eyes and grabbed the Styrofoam cup from Dayton’s hand. At least he didn’t have to worry about his family accepting Dayton. Hell, they liked his mate more than they liked Hart.
Malachi stepped out onto the porch and locked gazes with his son. Hart returned the stare for a moment before nodding. “Dayton?”
Dayton separated himself from Tawny and took Hart’s outstretched hand. Hart climbed the porch steps with Dayton at his side.
“Welcome home, son.”
Epilogue
DAYTON STARED around Hart’s apartment and smiled at the changes. One of the first things they’d done after their mating was redecorate the black-and-white monstrosity. They’d both worked closely with the designer, and Dayton loved the results.
They’d kept some of Hart’s preference for contemporary furniture but brought in more warmth with colorful rugs, textured artwork, and even a few throw pillows. The pillows were one of the few sources of contention in their relationship. Dayton constantly mussed them, and Hart kept them perfectly straight like the designer had originally placed them.
Although tempted to go rearrange one of them now, Dayton refrained. Hart’s nerves were already going nuts at the idea of the party they were hosting, and Dayton didn’t want to add to his stress. They’d been mated for just over six weeks. The official pride ceremony had happened within days of Hart’s claiming him.
The reception they were holding tonight was for Hart’s business associates. Dayton adjusted the sleeves of his fancy tuxedo and checked to make sure he didn’t have lint on them. The guests were set to arrive at any time.
Fresh flowers sat in vases on the tables, while trays of glasses and hors d’oeuvres were ready in the kitchen. They’d brought Justine back to cater the event, and she’d made sure all her waitstaff were on time and ready to work.
Hart had wanted to hire a new caterer, but Dayton convinced him otherwise. His being mistaken for a server wouldn’t happen again, and Justine’s food had been amazing.
Hart hadn’t emerged from his office, and Dayton
headed that way. His mate sat in front of his laptop, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Hart?”
Hart looked up and smiled. “Damn, you look amazing.”
“And you need to come join me. It’s time.”
Hart glanced back at the screen, and Dayton cleared his throat. They were working on his mate’s tendency to work himself into the ground. As alpha, he had responsibilities to the pride. But Hart didn’t want to give up his legal career either.
They ended up dividing their time between the pride house and Hart’s apartment in Atlanta. Hart left on Thursday morning for Atlanta. Dayton joined him after school let out on Fridays, and they returned on Sunday evening. The schedule was hectic for them both, but they were making it work.
Hart took Dayton’s hint and saved his document. He closed the lid on his computer and walked over to Dayton.
Nothing made Dayton happier than being wrapped in Hart’s arms, with his face pressed into his broad chest. He hugged Hart and looked up. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I get caught up. You know how I am.”
Dayton wondered what Hart’s working life had been like before he came along. He couldn’t imagine the amount of hours he’d put in, especially seeing him work over sixty now. He must have gone nonstop.
The buzzer sounded, and Hart pulled Dayton in for a quick kiss. “Guess our company has arrived.”
They walked back into the living room and greeted the first of the guests. Kyle ran to Dayton, waving a paper around his head. He smacked it into Dayton’s chest.
“Check me out, Teach.”
Dayton flipped the paper around and saw the B+ written in the top right corner. “Yes. I knew you could do it.”
“Not without you. Man, my tutor says I’ve turned it around. And my mom hasn’t had to smack me upside the head in a couple months.”
They shared a laugh as the other members of Velcro Roses came over to greet them.
“Congratulations,” Darren said. He shook Hart’s hand and patted Dayton on the shoulder.
“Thanks, guys. How’s the new record coming along?”
They didn’t need any further encouragement to start talking about all the songs they’d been working on. Dayton’s music history lessons had paid off on that account too. The boy band hadn’t written the songs on their first album, but were working together to contribute a couple to their second.
More guests arrived, and the sudden influx of visitors had Hart and Dayton busy making the rounds. Several brought gifts to celebrate their partnership, even though it wasn’t legally recognized in their state.
Being partnered with an attorney had its privileges, though, and Hart had taken the necessary steps to make sure they were both protected under the law as completely as they could be. One day, Dayton dreamed, they would be able to do more than wear rings and say they were married.
For now, Dayton planned to continue teaching and traveling back and forth with his mate. Their pride had blossomed under Hart’s no-nonsense leadership. Even Tawny had gone back to school for her nursing degree. She’d laughed and said she was on the prowl for a hot single doctor, but Dayton knew better.
His best friend hadn’t made good choices for the past several years. Now that thirty was only a year away for them both, she’d realized she wanted what Dayton had: a career, a husband, and a home.
Dayton wanted nothing more for her. A waitress came by with his ginger ale and twist of orange, and Dayton smiled his thanks. Hart was in deep discussion with one of his clients—a troubled kid named Maxter J—and Dayton remembered Max’s new contract was the one Hart had been poring over for the past week.
Sydnie Knyght arrived with her entourage, and Dayton headed her way. He’d gotten to know the pop princess quite well over the past few weekends spent at Hart’s. She squealed out a greeting and wrapped him in a hug.
“Even though I knew, I’ve been so excited to have a party for you guys. I was supposed to leave for Japan today, but I made my manager postpone until tomorrow so I could be here.”
“You didn’t have to do that. We know you’re happy for us.”
“I am. Hart needed someone, and you’re perfect together.”
Dayton didn’t know about perfect, but he appreciated the thought. He glanced over at Hart and found his mate staring at him with heated eyes. Dayton winked and headed his way. Hart dropped a possessive arm over his shoulder. Max gave them a half smile. “Uh, yeah. So I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, Max.”
Hart put his free hand on Max’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get all this straightened out.”
“Yeah. I’m going to get out of here. I’ll see you guys around.”
They watched him gather his bodyguard from his perch near the front door and leave.
“I’m worried about him,” Hart grumbled.
“You’re doing everything you can. Let’s just focus on tonight, okay?”
Hart pulled Dayton closer and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I can’t wait to get you out of that tux.”
Dayton slipped a hand around and cupped Hart’s ass. “And I can’t wait to get you into me.”
POPPY DENNISON, a sassy Southern lady, developed an obsession with things that go bump in the night in her early years after a barn door flew off its hinges and nearly squashed her. Convinced it was a ghost trying to get her attention, she started looking for other strange and mysterious happenings around her. Not satisfied with what she found, Poppy has traveled to Greece, Malaysia, and England to find inspiration for the burly bears and silver foxes that melt her butter. Her love of paranormal continues to flourish nearly thirty years later, and she writes steamy love stories about the very things that used to keep her up all night. If her childhood ghost is lucky, maybe one day she’ll give him his own happily ever after.
Website: http://www.poppydennison.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/poppydennison
Twitter: @PoppyDennison
By POPPY DENNISON
Born This Way
With Mary Calmes: Creature Feature
With Rhys Ford: Creature Feature 2
Triad
Mind Magic
Body Magic
Soul Magic
Wild Magic
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
For D.M.—Because you don’t have to let it bury you.
Chapter One
NO ONE ever expects to spend their thirtieth birthday in a crematorium, writing a check for their last eight hundred dollars, so that the people who took your mother’s dead body will hand it back to you in a little cardboard box.
Happy birthday to me.
It wasn’t quite the last of my money that purchased my mother back. My account still had a paltry eighty-six dollars and twelve cents, plus the four hundred in cash tucked into the zippered pouch in my suitcase. The money should let me rent a room in town long enough to clean up my mother’s property. So to speak. I just wanted the house and surrounding sheds clean enough for a local realtor to be able to put the whole sorry parcel of land on the market.
There was no way, I’d been told over the phone yesterday, it could be sold in its present condition. I hadn’t asked the woman from Connor Realty to elaborate. I had my own memories of my mother’s house to go on, plus the immense deterioration of the last two years since I’d been here. Two years since Dad died of a heart attack. Epic didn’t have enough letters to carry the weight of the fight I had with my mother after his death.
I left, hadn’t spoken to her since, and then she was dead. Her final “fuck you, Cole” came in the form of her will—she gave me ownership of her house and the undeveloped farmland it sat on. It might have been the solution to my own financial woes, if I hadn’t already known the disaster I’d find. Dad had been a mechanic and a collector; my mother was a housewife and a hoarder. Their house, barn, garage, two sheds, and surrounding woodsy property was the resul
t of thirty-four years of accumulation.
I hadn’t driven out to see it yet, and my stomach was already in knots.
The box of ashes went on the backseat of my car, between my two suitcases and a box of cleaning products. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to put my mother. She wasn’t going up front with me, and the trunk was out of the question. Besides the weirdness of it, the trunk was already full of heavy-duty trash bags, packing tape, cardboard packing boxes, a shovel, and a box of books.
Franklin hadn’t changed much as a town, I noted as I drove through it. Same homes and offices and small shops. Same churches and Christmas decorations as I remembered growing up. Same restaurants dotted with cars in that odd, less busy time between breakfast and lunch. An antique store had popped up in the bottom floor of someone’s house, and the hardware store was shut down. A handmade sign hung in the window with Damned Chain Stores scrawled in black paint.
It made me smile.
I turned west out of town, toward the hillier, woodsy area and winding road that eventually led to my old homestead. As a child, I’d loved being out in the woods, miles from town, able to have adventures far from the chaos of my house. As a teen, I’d hated having to ride my bike into town just to hang with the few friends I’d cobbled together. They hadn’t minded my secondhand clothes or my odd mother who wore big straw hats all year long, or that I never invited them back to my house. Friends I’d lost touch with when I went six states away to college, where I discovered acceptance for the first time as a gay man. Then, during my sophomore year, I met Martin and began an eight-year-long nightmare I’d only just surfaced from.
The road curled like an S, and I slowed to negotiate the two turns. A familiar, barn-shaped mailbox came into view a hundred feet farther down. I turned on my blinker, even though the road was clear, and made a left onto a crushed-shell driveway I’d treaded a thousand times, both on rubber and on foot.