Abram [Wounded Hearts 1] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

by Fel Fern

  One thing was for certain, Kane was a treasure Abram wanted to keep but couldn’t. He remembered the dare blazing in Kane’s eyes, urging him to take that leap of faith. What had Abram been reduced to? A coward, too terrified to take a stab at this—at a relationship, even the promise of love?

  “Abram?” Kane’s groggy voice made him look at his little cat. “Are you still awake? Sleep.”

  Tempting, but sleep eluded Abram lately. Most nights, once he did manage to sleep, his mind would make him relive that horrible moment when Mike and he had charged at the base just as those bombs dropped on their heads. He’d see his men, screaming, clawing their way to survival, save for Wayne, who was already dead.

  With Kane tucked next to him, it felt like he had a kind of talisman. So Abram shut his eyes and eventually sleep took him, but for once, nightmares didn’t plague him.

  * * * *

  Warm sun on his face woke Abram. He jolted up in bed, expecting to smell sand, to hear the voices of his men yelling at each other in the background, making crude jokes. Instead, he stared at the familiar gray walls of his pathetic apartment. Something was different about it though. He glanced at the empty space in his bed.

  Told you so, he wanted to tell his lion. Despite all of Kane’s promises, the little cat couldn’t stick around once Kane took a good look at the monster he just slept with. Then the smell of bacon hit his nose. He sniffed again, confused.

  Abram never cooked, never once turned on that stove. Take-outs or ready-made food from the supermarket seemed easiest. The one near his place discounted all their cooked meals when it struck ten and it was a habit for him to head down and stock up his meals until the next day.

  “Good morning!” A cheerful voice greeted him.

  Abram stared, wondering if he was dreaming. Kane was by the tiny electric stove, wearing his clothes, which only looked baggy on Kane’s smaller frame. Kane even had an apron on, a gag gift Dusty gave him. It had a cartoon lion on it with the words “Don’t disturb me while I’m cooking, or I’ll eat you.” Where did Kane find that?

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Kane finally said after Abram still hadn’t spoken, still wondering if he’d finally gone all delusional. “I woke up early, hoping to make us breakfast. When I checked your cute mini-fridge and cupboards, there was nothing in them. I ran down to the nearest supermarket to get stuff.”

  Kane halted. “Abram? Are you okay?”

  “Waking up to all this”—Abram paused and motioned to the kitchen—“is just odd.”

  Kane frowned. “You saw the empty bed and assumed I would be gone, didn’t you?”

  Abram ran his hand through his short hair. “Well, yeah. I figured after the fuck—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence or there won’t be any bacon for you.”

  “You know how to cook?” he asked, rising from the bed.

  “I grew up in a big family. Tabby cat shifters kind of live together, and I was put in charge of taking care of the other kids. Cooking seemed like a practical skill to learn.”

  Abram noticed Kane eying him again.

  “Can you put on some bottoms? You’re really distracting,” Kane muttered. “I might burn the bacon at this rate.”

  Abram found a clean pair of boxers and put them on. For good measure, he threw on a shirt, too, then padded to Kane to find out what else smelled good. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t bothered picking out a long-sleeve shirt to hide his disability till then. After last night, it seemed silly to bother when Kane couldn’t care less about his missing arm though.

  “You’ve never mentioned your family before,” he said. His stomach rumbled. Thank God, Kane accounted for the fact shifters ate a lot, because there was enough bacon on the plate to feed four humans.

  Kane hesitated. “I have mixed feelings about my family. How much do you know about tabby cat shifters?”

  “Not much,” he admitted. “You know from my file that I lived in human foster homes when I was a kid and enlisted at eighteen. I never joined other lion prides or had time to learn about other shifter groups.”

  Kane nodded. “The submissive shifters in my clan were taught, well, conditioned to seek out stronger mates, to rely on them, be completely dependent on them.”

  Abram frowned. He knew other shifter groups still encouraged that kind of backward thinking to keep their weaker members in line. He let Kane finish speaking, because he was pretty curious about his little cat.

  “Long story short, I broke away from my clan and family to follow my dreams. So here I am.”

  Abram couldn’t be prouder of Kane. He knew it wouldn’t have been easy, being alone and working hard without the support of anyone. God, if it were possible, he wanted Kane even more. A worthy mate, his lion said and it was true.

  Kane had the courage to break away from traditions and forge his own path. It wasn’t facing death on a day-to-day basis, but it took guts to do what Kane did. He felt guilty for judging Kane so easily when they first met, that Kane was merely a rich kid who had the support of his parents. His little cat surprised him every single time and therein lay the danger. Abram wanted to possess every inch of Kane, body and heart, and his lion couldn’t hold back anymore.

  Once he’d gotten a taste of Kane, he was an addict obsessed. If Kane wanted to see where this was going, it was time for Abram to shove all his fears aside and do the same.

  “You’re fucking amazing, little cat. Do you know that?”

  Chapter Seven

  Amazing? Kane couldn’t remember anyone calling him that. Ever. He knew his parents had been angry at him for a long time when he broke away from the clan. They grudgingly agreed he was better off where he was, but they never exactly told him they were proud of his achievements. Something in Abram had changed, and he could sense it.

  It was like Abram had been holding back, but not anymore. The werelion watched him like Kane already belonged to him. He suppressed a shudder, liking that possessive look in Abram’s eyes very much. “Sit, I’ll just put these on plates,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I also made coffee.”

  “Handy, sexy little thing, aren’t you?”

  Was Abram flirting with him? Most of the time, Abram was all brooding and growly, so this was a surprising but nice change.

  “Where did you get plates?” Abram asked.

  Kane rolled his eyes. He admitted he’d been shocked to find the cabinets empty save for one cracked plate and a few coffee mugs. The fridge was even worse. There was an expired beef jerky in there along with a few cans of beer. Nothing else. The coffee machine was the only appliance Abram seemed to use, because there was coffee to put into the machine at least.

  “We’re using paper plates, but I can like, go home shopping with you.” After setting the bacon, eggs, and pancakes on two plates, he brought them to the table and beamed at Abram, hoping the werelion would take the hint.

  “Home shopping?” Abram asked, as if he didn’t know what that was. “Don’t you have work?”

  “It’s a Saturday.” Kane rolled his eyes and offered Abram plastic utensils. Abram plucked them and dug into his food like a starving man. Eyes widening slightly, he sat down. Abram didn’t stop but mumbled words like “Fuck this is good” and “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “I can make more,” Kane said, eating his own breakfast.

  Abram paused, looking embarrassed. “No one has ever cooked for me.”

  “Oh? I feel special.” Kane meant it. “So, how about it?”

  “Shopping?” Abram made a face.

  “You can’t continue living like this.” Abram growled, but Kane knew how to handle this lion a little better. “Because how will we have romantic dinners here? It was a miracle your stove still worked and you had a pan to cook on. Don’t you want me to make breakfast for you again?”

  Abram stared at him. “Dinners? Breakfast? Of course I do. You’re an amazing cook.”

  He blushed. “Well, then. Shopping it is.”

  “I fucking
hate shopping.”

  “I had a feeling you do, but it’s an excuse to spend more time together.”

  “You want to be seen in public, with me?”

  Kane glared. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to be seen in public with me.”

  Abram drew a shaky breath. “Fuck, little cat. I usually don’t take well to people mouthing off back to me.”

  “I’m not just any random nobody.” Kane’s heart was racing.

  “Yeah?” Abram raised an eyebrow. Kane reached out, tracing the tiny, cute scar, which seemed to unsettle Abram, so he stopped. “Kane, I’m not used to…this, little touches, breakfast. It’s strange.”

  “Good strange?”

  “Yeah, I think.”

  “I’m going to answer that question earlier. I’m your mate, and both your lion and my cat knows it. Don’t deny it, don’t sprout that bullshit about me getting bored and running. Don’t use me as an excuse, because you can’t face down your own fears.”

  “I want to kiss you, to shut you up.”

  Kane swallowed. Oh, kisses from Abram were always enjoyable, but he had to make his point clear. “What are you going to say to that?”

  “I never believed in mates,” Abram admitted. “I saw the mating bond as a weakness, because when one half of the pair dies, the second falls.”

  His stomach sunk a little at those words but Kane refused to give up. He’d hear Abram out, because if their positions were reversed, this would startle him, too. He could see how Abram lived his entire life for the past year. Abram barely lived on the fringes of life, moving from one everyday motion to the next, ignoring what reality could give.

  “And now?” he prodded, because Abram’s answer was important. If Abram wanted to move away from the shadow of his past, Abram had to take the next step himself.

  “It’s different and it’s all because of you.” Abram looked him in the eye. “I’m going to take this fucking leap and see for myself where it can take me.”

  Kane gave his lion his biggest smile. “You can kiss me now.”

  * * * *

  Abram opened the cupboard above his mini-fridge, awestruck by the new blue plates and mugs. If he opened the drawer beneath, it contained matching cutlery too—forks, knives, spoons, the complete set. A week had passed since Kane took him home shopping and his apartment looked like it belonged to someone else. He grabbed the mug, and poured himself hot coffee, the first of the day. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he surveyed the space.

  Gray walls had now been painted green. Kane and he spent last Sunday buying paint and covering all four walls with color. There were other signs of life in the tiny space, too, like the plants Kane added. Abram took a sip of his coffee. He immensely liked spending time with Kane.

  Being around Kane was easy, calmed his lion the whole time, and it didn’t hurt sex was always on the table. Just when Abram dreaded the day the fire between them would die out, it only burned even stronger. However, in Abram’s personal experience, when life was beginning to seem perfect, something bad would happen.

  He and his men looked forward to going home after two years being on hostile ground. A lot of them looked forward to returning to civilian lives, except they came home, missing bits and pieces of themselves. Not literally, but even Abram sometimes thought dying had been better when he’d first woken up in this apartment.

  He finished his coffee. His apartment space looked like it didn’t just belong to him. Kane also had a say in the choices, like they were a couple, deciding on how to decorate their personal space together. Hell, Kane spent nights at his place most of the time and practically lived there.

  That scared him a little, how much he depended on Kane, how he looked forward to each time Kane came over. They’d usually have dinner, ask each other how their day went, and retreat to the bed for some sexy times. When had Abram started settling down to an everyday routine?

  He’d already begun to break off some habits he’d thought he’d never shake, like waking up before sunset to do early morning exercises. Abram was well on his way to becoming a civilian, but he’d lost his edge, too.

  Unsettled, Abram poured himself another mug of coffee. Being a soldier defined him, gave him purpose. Only the mission and the responsibility of the men under him mattered. When he was honorably discharged, it felt like his identity had been stripped away.

  His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans. He fished it out and saw it was a text from Kane, asking him to meet for lunch later. Smiling, Abram texted Kane a “yes.” Since they lived in a small town, it was easy moving around. The clinic was only a couple of streets away from the gym Abram worked at.

  After sending Kane his reply, he returned his attention to his apartment. What was he doing anyway, nitpicking on the details? Why did Abram keep thinking about all this—the colorful additions to his life, Kane, and the fresh coat of paint in the apartment could easily be taken away.

  Dr. Michaels once asked him whether if he was afraid of being happy, that he skated around it like an animal who’d lived in darkness for so long, it began to be afraid of sunlight.

  Kane was that, the breath of fresh air he needed. Kane possessed a heart so big that with Kane, Abram could forget all about his dark past. Kane never pushed, never asked him why Abram woke up most nights, screaming and covered in sweat. The faces of the dead haunted him less now, but they would never go away.

  “A man should take responsibility for his crime,” he whispered to the empty place. Abram had followed every single order from his commanding officer, all for the cause of winning, but sometimes during his weakest moments, he questioned them.

  Still a shocker, Kane would choose to remain with a man like him. Realizing he was running late for work, Abram finished his coffee and quickly showered. After tugging on a pair of gym shorts and a clean sport T-shirt, he glanced at the never used prosthetic by the side of his bed.

  Kane asked him once about it, why he never wore it. They had a drawn and heated fight about it, but Kane never brought it up again. The fake arm reminded Abram he’d once been a whole lion, but if he’d never been broken, he’d never have met Kane. What was it about today?

  After finishing dressing, he opened the door. His lion warned him of the presence of another predator. Standing there was Dusty, who looked worse for wear. Abram would have scented one of his guys a mile away before. The thought only worsened the feeling of dread growing inside of him.

  “Hey, can I come in?” Dusty asked.

  Abram stepped back to let Dusty in. He narrowed his eyes, eying the young leopard shifter. Dusty looked worn down and thinner, with shadows under his eyes, and Dusty’s animal was so close to the surface it riled his lion up. It was like Dusty no longer wanted to leash his inner leopard and at any second Dusty could change.

  “What’s wrong?” Sometimes, it was better go straight to the point.

  “I smell coffee. Can I have some?”

  Abram flared his nostrils. Fine, if Dusty wanted to play this game, they would. He poured Dusty coffee and noticed the other shifter looking around his place with interest.

  “Wow, your apartment looks nicer than I imagined. Not quite…you. The doing of the guy you’re seeing?”

  Abram walked up to Dusty and handed him the mug, which Dusty accepted. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’re more the utilitarian, minimalist kind of guy.”

  The comment stuck out for some reason. He clenched his jaw. That was true. In the end, he felt a little like a fraud, because he’d let Kane give the space a face-lift. None of the colors or the small details screamed him.

  He preferred to look at the world in terms of black and white, although he knew now, gray areas existed. Abram didn’t mind the new colors, the new additions to his place, because he hadn’t really known what he wanted. All he’d had back in the army was a bunk and his few belongings. Necessities. Excess had never been encouraged and he’d prided himself on being practical. If he had nothing of value in
the first place, then he didn’t need to fear losing it.

  Now, he had one precious thing to lose. Kane.

  “Why did you come here, Dusty?” He signed. “What can I do for you?”

  Dusty took a little longer answering him. Instead, the leopard shifter stared at his apartment, but there was a familiar faraway look in Dusty’s eyes, one Abram recognize. Sometimes, in the middle of watching TV, he’d drift off, too, but Kane would shake him a little and ask him to come back to reality. Dusty had no one though. How long had it been this bad for Dusty?

  He gripped Dusty’s arm. The leopard shifter reacted badly, shoving his touch away. Dusty snarled, eyes yellow with anger. Dusty was a powerful, dominant shifter in his own right but Abram had years of experience on him.

  A chill went down his spine. Abram remembered Mike bringing them back together for lunch, the promise they made. Was it that time now? Fuck, but he couldn’t lose Dusty. At twenty-four, Dusty was the youngest guy in his unit. Dusty began a greenhorn, but proved himself several times over doing their time in the desert. Abram and the others looked out for Dusty like a younger brother.

  God, no. He’d already lost Wayne. Abram didn’t want to lose anyone else. Not Dusty. Not Kane.

  Chapter Eight

  “Dusty, come back. Reel in your beast,” he said in in his calmest voice.

  Dusty breathed in and out, staring at him as if Dusty couldn’t decide if Abram was a friend or enemy. After Mike brought them together, he’d checked in on the others every few days, calling them up. Now Abram wished he’d visited them in person instead, with the pretense of hanging out or asking them out for lunch.

  “You don’t know what it’s like, Abram, when your entire world has suddenly gone silent,” Dusty whispered, eyes flickering between yellow and dark brown, his human color.

  Abram’s lion clawed at him, urged him to fight off this predator that trespassed their den, the place Kane and he had turned from a gray, lifeless space into an actual home. However, the man in him wanted to help a fellow brother. Any wrong word or action could erupt in a fight and a fight between two dominant predatory shifters never resulted in anything good.