by Black Deja
“Yes, Conner. What did Shelly say, since the world now revolves around Shelly and what Shelly has to say about my life?” Dan snapped.
“Hush it, Daniel Tolliver!” Shelly sailed into the room, folded her arms, and glared.
Dan spun away from her and stared accusingly at Conner, who didn’t in any way appear guilty. He just leaned back on his arms to watch the show.
“Yes, I’m here along with your brother. It’s time for you to come out of this room.”
“I have. I have been out,” Dan argued.
“Breakfast does not count. Not just eating or visiting the library or whatever it is your family and its members do here, Dan. Honey, I understand….”
“No, Shelly. No, you don’t. I’m. Safe. Here,” Dan shouted. He took a moment, breathed in and out, trying to expel the frustration this ambush was having on him, and ensured his next words were a little quieter, more contrite because in the end, they both cared. They loved him, and that’s what he had to remember. “I’m safe here, Shelly. I like that. I don’t want to go out there. I don’t want to. Father says I can stay.”
“Danny Boy.” Conner’s voice held a tenderness that had often soothed Dan. “You know as well as I, Father would never let you leave if he could have it. He will not. You are the living, breathing embodiment of a woman he still loves with all of his heart. Not a jealous bone in me, but it’s time you at least go to a movie, shop, wear a few of the nice things you had before the scum made you a prisoner, and go dancing. You used to love that, Danny. You wouldn’t have to go alone. Shelly and I—”
“No, I will not go to a movie with you, or dancing either. Old adage? Two’s company, three’s…. I am not going to a movie with you while you two suck face and dry hump each other while I get to hug a box of popcorn.” Dan groaned, the sound bitter. “Look, enough. Conner, I have no idea where Keith is. I don’t know where he would go other than the theater or to one of his favorite clubs. I don’t know of any family he has. Never met them.” Dan turned to face Shelly. “Shelly, I love you like a sister—you are my sister—but I’m not ready. When I am, I promise I will call. I promise. Just, right now? I need some space, okay? Some space.” Dan walked to Shelly, hugged her tight, kissed her cheek, and placing his hands on her shoulders, penguin-walked her out the door. Then he turned to Conner and hugged him as well. “Just a little more time, big bro. I promise, if I remember anything, you’ll be the first to know. Maybe you should just….”
“No, I will be here until Keith has been turned to dust, Danny. That I promise. You just make sure you don’t become a fossil in this room. Understand, brother?” Conner hugged Dan, who rested his head on his shoulder and nodded yes.
A FEW more pages and Dan was feeling hungry. Remembering his discussion with his brother and Shelly earlier, Dan decided maybe a meal on the veranda wouldn’t be a bad idea. He carried his book with him down the stairs to the first floor. Wolves passed by in every shape and form. A few single, some pairs, all careful, giving him his berth. They nodded their respect to the prince as he made his progress to the kitchen. He had never gotten used to his title. As sons to the Alpha, both he and Conner were princes. Wanting their own places, Conner chose to become the Enforcer and Dan, a teacher. It hadn’t bothered Jeremiah. It was understood that Conner would one day lead regardless of the path he chose, and Dan was just happy to be his son.
Still, to only be acknowledged because of this… it was unusual, to be sure. In the past he could always count on visits from the others while he was there. He often tutored a few of the younger ones when there was a problem with their studies. He remembered helping the Davidsons’ little boy, Mathias, when he was having trouble with his sophomore English class. The kid had ended up doing well, and Dan had received a Derby pie from a very grateful mother. He didn’t have the heart to tell the woman sticky, syrupy confections were not his thing. It made him proud enough that Mathias had finished well, earning a B+, and was on his way to college.
Sometimes when he had come to visit, Uncle Tobin’s twins invited him to play a game or two with them. Yeah, he wasn’t that great at video games, but his cousins never made him feel lesser. Dan even enjoyed playing sports. He did okay in tennis, was mediocre at flag football, and didn’t have any issue with being the last one chosen for a team. Still, no one had asked him since he returned. It wasn’t like he had the plague, but he did feel like they were stepping quietly around him. His presence, or maybe his reticence to emerge from his self-inflicted isolation, forced them to alter themselves. No pack could survive this way, which made him recall his conversation with Conner and Shelly.
Arriving in the sunniest room, complete with the sunniest cook, Dan placed a gentle peck on Mrs. Dunham’s cheek. Dan had known Mrs. Dunham as long as he had known his family. A rock when he lost his mother, Mrs. Dunham did not replace her but stepped into the role easily. She was a tiny woman, her hair never seen out of her neat bun, but she prevailed as a huge presence in all of their lives. He respected her, loved her, and to lose her would leave behind a hole just as great as, if not equal to, the one left by the loss of his own mother.
“Look who is about, why don’t you! Hello, baby mine.” Mrs. Dunham greeted Dan warmly, an arm thrown tightly around his waist accompanied by a squeeze. She smelled of cinnamon and sugar, and the dusting of flour on her fingers as she wiped them on her apron told him she was making her famous cinnamon rolls. He loved her cinnamon rolls. Unlike the murky depths of a Derby pie, he enjoyed the spice and the delicate layers. The Pillsbury Doughboy had nothing on the buttery delights Mrs. Dunham pulled from the oven, and rather than ladling on gobs of icing, she drizzled them to perfection. “Ah, I’m glad to see you out of your room and in my kitchen. Was it my rolls brought you out, hmm?” Mrs. Dunham picked up a banana, peeled it, sliced and quartered it, placed it on a plate, and passed it to Dan. The whole event took seconds, she was that fast. She was quick when he was younger too. That hadn’t changed. “Give them time to cool, I’ll ice them, and you can enjoy some as a meal, maybe in the sunshine for a change?” Her smile was bright, welcoming, as she awaited his response.
“Not you too.” Dan sat across from her, using the fork she passed him to eat the bananas slowly, enjoying how fresh they were.
“What do you mean, not me too? If you’re referring to the tomb in which you now reside, then yes, me too. In fact, it is the talk of the pack. You are worrying us, Daniel.” Mrs. Dunham bustled about, checking a pot here, a pot there. She opened the oven, sniffed, closed it, and then turned to face Dan, whom she had often called one of her favorite humans. “Hiding in that place or in your room will not stop the fact that life is continuing beyond those doors. Don’t you think it is time you at least stepped out there to see it?”
“What if I’m just not ready?” Dan questioned.
“How will you know if you never try? You cannot start the journey if you are not willing to take the first step, Daniel. You are having to learn how to walk all over again. You can be afraid—nothing wrong with that—but you at least have to stand. Stand and walk, Daniel. You will be stronger for at least making the attempt. It will get easier the more you practice.” Mrs. Dunham placed her hand over Dan’s and squeezed. Her small powerful hand warmed him. “Now, what would you like to eat besides the rolls, hmm? I know you did not just come down here to please an old lady’s heart.” There was a smart little wink to follow that. She squeezed his hand again and turned back to the stove. Goddess, he loved this woman. “Well, let’s get a little food in you.”
Lunch on the veranda was nice. Not a huge meat eater in a family of meat eaters, Dan enjoyed the veggie hummus sandwich Mrs. Dunham had prepared. The dish of fruit was good too, and a little water to wash it down was perfect. It was a very nice lunch after the cinnamon rolls and fruit he had picked at earlier. Mrs. Dunham had a way of calming him. He loved her, and he was even beginning to appreciate the warmth of the sun, as she promised he would. He couldn’t ask for more. He sat, letting the cool bree
ze play against his skin as he thought about Conner, Shelly, and Mrs. Dunham. He thought about his father. He wondered where Keith was and if fate had simply stepped in and gotten rid of him.
Finally, he thought about Dr. Kavanagh. He had begun thinking of him more often as of late, having glimpses of him when he slept and even when he was wide awake.
The fantasies had begun right after the hospital released him, but while they should have decreased over time, they had only become worse. He remembered Dr. Kavanagh’s hands, strong and long and very capable. He remembered him being gentle when he examined him. Not all doctors were gentle. Dan had heard Shelly’s nightmare stories of visits to the gyno and icy tools that made him grateful he wasn’t a woman. Dr. Kavanagh’s hands had been warm. When Dan’s cheeks were spread and long, warm fingers were inserted, questing diligently and quite efficiently, he didn’t take the moment then to think about how deep they could go, how far they could reach. He didn’t think of them then, but he did now.
He dreamed about him. While he slept, Dr. Kavanagh called him Daniel and held him close. He visited with him, talked to him about his day. He whispered to him, encouraged him to leave the shelter of his bedroom walls. Strangely he could hear his voice just as well while awake, because as he sat looking over his father’s gardens, Dr. Kavanagh called to him, as clear as if he were right next to him.
“How often do you sit here, Daniel?”
Dan heard his words, felt his breath against his neck. Oh, Dan’s imagination was vivid today. Maybe the fresh air was working its magic.
“Are you going to answer me or just sit there?”
Wow. Dan looked into his cup of tea. He didn’t see any signs that Mrs. Dunham had spiked it. He sniffed it. Nope, didn’t smell like Old Irish or even a little bourbon. So when Dan felt hands smooth down the back of his neck, he had to believe those fingers, the same ones he had imagined doing wonderful things to him, were actually attached to someone whose height made him feel small, who dried up the moisture in his mouth every time he saw him. Further proof was when a chair slid next to his, and Dr. Kavanagh relaxed in it.
He was still awesome to look at. He would give most any hot celeb a run for their money in a People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue. Hell, Dan thought, while he enjoyed looking, it would be even better to taste the man for himself. Surprised at himself, he looked away, over to the gardens his father loved so well. Tended by his mother years ago, they were the pride and joy of the pack’s compound. Mounds and mounds of flowers, as well as medicinal herbs, scented the air and tended to relax those who took the opportunity to walk through or, for Dan, sit above.
“I haven’t been out here much,” Dan said quietly. He slid his eyes to the side, watching, wondering how Kavanagh had gotten through the gates and into the home. More importantly, he wondered why he was even sitting next to him. His father was very draconian about security, and no one was allowed in the home without an escort. There was no one accompanying him. That in itself was out of the ordinary.
“I’ve heard from a little bird you haven’t been anywhere at all,” Dr. Kavanagh said.
Dan would have given anything to see his eyes, but they were shielded behind a pair of incredibly dark sunglasses. In fact, as Dan looked at him more closely, he was just a little too covered up. It wasn’t cold, and it wasn’t just that Dan hungered for a little peek of his skin. True, there was a good breeze, but it was March in Louisville, which typically required little more than a T-shirt and a worn pair of jeans, like Dan wore. But Kavanagh had on a blue long-sleeve shirt. It fit him nicely, hugged his frame, which poured into a pair of well-defined slacks that left nothing to the imagination. Oh, yeah. Gimme some. Dr. Kavanagh’s full lips quirked as if he had heard Dan’s thoughts. He couldn’t have said that out loud, could he? Did he? No. No, of course not.
“A little bird, huh?” He’d place any bet that bird was a pixie, wearing boots, and somewhere wrapped up in his brother’s arms.
“You have something most people would kill for here, you know?” He was looking out over the beds of flowers and greenery now, his body relaxed into the seat beside Dan, a glow on his face from the sun.
“Really?” Dan wondered what he meant by that. “What would people kill for here?” Dan took in the gardens, trying to see what Dr. Kavanagh was seeing. Flowers, land that spread for many miles out before him, the hunting grounds, the scattering of houses crossing the property. What could be here that someone else would want so badly?
“A family wanting to see you safe, healthy… happy. A family that loves you.”
Of all the things that could have come to Dan’s mind, that wasn’t one of them. Still, he considered Dr. Kavanagh’s words. He sometimes thought of how life could have been for him had his mother not fallen in love with Jeremiah Tolliver, had he not been accepted into the pack and given a family that would love and shelter him, that respected his choices, his decisions. As a teacher, he saw what the lack of family did for the students who didn’t have the support he did: the anger, the poor choices, the pain they suffered. Some resorted to cutting, some did drugs, some sought the love they were missing in the arms of others who only wanted to use them, but a few found family among teachers and schoolmates, and became self-sufficient, capable, and masters of their own futures.
Where was Dr. Kavanagh going with this, anyway? And while he had seen Dan’s family at the hospital, Dr. Kavanagh didn’t know them.
“What’s the problem, then, Daniel?”
Dan turned to face him. “Do all doctors make house calls? Or just you?”
“We’re talking about you.” Dan saw lovely brows lift over the rim of sunglasses. He did that weird thing like he had in the hospital. Flickered. It was like watching the television and having a moment where the screen sort of glitches, which wasn’t right at all.
“Yes, and I want to know why you’re here? With me? Why are you next to me, right now? Why are you calling me by my first name? How did you get past the gates? Does my father even know you’re here?” Dan stood and leaned against the railing. He focused his gaze, searching the doctor for lies. “None of this is right. It doesn’t feel right. It feels….”
There was a bright light, and in the next moment, Dr. Kavanagh was gone, with no sign of him ever being there. It had all felt strikingly real. He had sincerely believed Dr. Kavanagh was actually next to him, talking to him. And he wasn’t. But he remembered his breath on his skin earlier, his hands along his neck, licks along his flesh?
He looked around him. Nothing. Another fucking dream? What was it lately? What was going on with him? It was enough that he was thinking about the doctor, but now he was seeing him in the daylight too? What. The. Fuck? He had to stop this.
Either Dan was dreaming about Dr. Kavanagh or he was struggling to get away from his nightmare. He was a pendulum, steadily swinging back and forth, never remaining in one place, and it was starting to piss him off. He was drowning. Dan felt pressure from everywhere lately, and the best place for him to be was back in his room where he should have fucking stayed.
“Son,” a rich baritone said.
With a grateful smile on his face, Dan turned to face his father.
Jeremiah walked out onto the veranda, dressed comfortably in a dark blue Henley that set off his black-as-midnight hair, streaks of white glistening in the sun, the only indication of his more than one hundred fifty years. Conner and Dan often teased him, saying it was the white that added to his air of mystery and set the women off, and some men too. But Jeremiah wasn’t interested in any relationships, his heart and soul still very much wed to Sarai Tolliver. Dan and Conner had talked about it, about how their father was still healthy and virile, that it was time for their father to have a few more pups. As Alpha, it was his duty to continue his line, and while he had Conner, Dan was not his blood. Besides, they wanted his happiness. However, to Jeremiah, happiness thrived on the well-being of his sons, his young princes. To have one in turmoil and not able to heal his suffering? Dan
knew he would never let it be.
Jeremiah walked toward Dan, his arms open wide, and Dan went to him, allowed himself to be held, to be strengthened.
“I felt your need, Danny Boy.”
It used to freak him out a little how he would appear out of nowhere when Dan was distressed, whether it was a sprained ankle from his days of trying to win Wimbledon, if only in his unrealistic plans when he thought he could be the next Roger Federer, or when he and a boyfriend had called it quits—well, at least the boyfriend had. Dan had decided to do the Golden Girls thing and devour cheesecake rather than let anyone know how badly the boy crushed him by not wanting to see him anymore, instead dating a girl. The ass had said it was better that way, and who was Dan to think he could change what they had going? It hadn’t stopped Terry from accepting a blow job or two from Dan. He had never once bothered to turn Dan down, but when it was time for the school prom and Dan had asked if they could at least go as friends? Well, that was the end of it. Defeated, he plundered the kitchen, determined to find a cheesecake, and decided to make do with the chocolate cake he had found and a glass of milk instead. Jeremiah had searched him out that night too.
From Jeremiah’s attire, Dan could tell he intended for the pack run to start soon. They were just waiting for dusk to settle. The pack’s territory was vast, stretching out for miles. None of Jeremiah’s wolves would have to worry about being hunted, as it was purchased as a wildlife safety zone. The entire acreage was private property and had been in the family for centuries, ever since his father’s ancestors had traveled from the market town of Huntingdon across the pond. Animals lived on the land to serve as prey, and as natural predators, his father and their pack could stalk their quarry safely, able to rid themselves of the restless energy they contained. Their moment of freedom, and here his father stood, seeing to Dan’s needs rather than his own.