by Anya Byrne
Remy's world cracked and shattered under the assault of bliss that followed. He'd have liked to at least be able to say Baqir's name, or the occasional 'more', 'please', but he had been reduced to incoherent noises. Baqir's heat was burning him from the inside out. With every motion his lover made, the pleasure kept rising, spiraling higher and higher—until even thinking became difficult, let alone vocalizing said thoughts.
Baqir's hold on him was so tight, and his gaze felt fierce and possessive, almost like he was claiming Remy just by looking at him. If anyone could do it, Remy idly thought, it was likely Baqir. His lover's intensity was such that Remy felt increasingly less like himself and more like a vessel of pleasure, the focal point of Baqir's strength. It might have scared him if it hadn't been so freeing, so right.
He wanted, wanted, wanted… something more… but he wasn't quite there, couldn't think, couldn't know. And then, Baqir shoved his dick inside Remy so hard Remy's teeth rattled. A husky murmur echoed in Remy's ear, "Come for me, Remy."
The sound of his name on Baqir's lips finally made Remy tumble into climax, even if he suspected there was something else he had been waiting for. He couldn't dwell on it too much, because the moment he came, his ass muscles clenched around Baqir's prick, triggering Baqir's own orgasm.
His lover snarled above him, a sound that seemed like a cross between Remy's name and something deeper, more beast-like. The head of Baqir's dick expanded into a knot that kept them bound together, all the while stimulating Remy's prostate. It prolonged Remy's climax beyond what he'd thought possible, and he cried out, trembled and fought through an onslaught of pleasure unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
Even when that bliss faded into something more sedate, Baqir still stayed inside him. He rolled them over, curling around Remy, his knot keeping them together—not that Remy had any interest in moving away.
He simply lay there, catching his breath, struggling to gather his scattered thoughts. It didn't really work—and he knew there was something he should probably be remembering—but maybe it could wait. He felt so safe in Baqir's arms, like a broken part of him had finally been mended. Or maybe he had simply been empty, and now, he'd found the piece of him that had been missing.
He feared that he would lose that piece again when Baqir slid out of him, but that wasn't the case at all. Baqir just tightened his hold on him and kissed his neck. "Sleep. Sleep, Remy."
Smiling, Remy threaded his fingers through Baqir's. "Stay with me."
Baqir didn't reply, at least not through words. He simply curled closer to Remy, and that was enough, a wordless promise that Baqir would still be there when Remy awoke.
Reassured, Remy closed his eyes and slept.
Chapter Three
When Baqir stirred from his slumber, the first thing he became aware of was the warmth. He didn't particularly like sleeping in cold places, but that didn't mean he'd never done it. Just the same, this heat was different from anything Baqir had experienced before. It extended from his skin and reached all the way into him, melting the ice that had settled around his heart.
It wasn't hard to figure out the reason. It must have been only the surprise and the hefty level of disbelief that had allowed him to get confused to begin with. His mate was in his arms, still sleeping, his body curled against Baqir's own.
Memories flashed through his mind, and he groaned—although he couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion that made him utter the sound. He knew that he and Remy should have talked about the elephants in the room, that he—and quite possibly Remy as well—were supposed to be doing investigative work on the humans. Instead, they'd chosen to get drunk on a mysterious tea not even Baqir's nose could identify, and had proceeded to fuck each other's brains out. Good call, Baqir. Not.
And yet, Baqir found that at a fundamental level, he didn't regret any of it. How could he when holding his mate felt so right? He'd waited for this for so long—even when he had told himself he wasn't and he had thought it would never happen. Why couldn't he be selfish and take it now that he'd found it?
Further, he was proud of the fact that he hadn't actually claimed Remy. They'd both been intoxicated and had just met. Even if they were mates, they couldn't jump into something so serious, especially given the very dangerous circumstances of Baqir's presence in Remy's city.
By his side, his mate stirred, finally waking from his slumber. Like Baqir, he froze for a few moments as he obviously processed what had happened between them. Finally, he turned in Baqir's embrace, curling against him and looking up at his face. "What are you thinking so hard about?" he asked without preamble.
"You," Baqir replied, marveling at how Remy could so easily shatter the barriers of his secrecy. "Us."
Remy furrowed his brow. "Oh, that sounds serious. Should I be worried?"
"It depends," Baqir replied honestly. "Do you want to have me in your life?"
"Of course. What kind of question is that?"
"A genuine one." Baqir cupped Remy's cheek and kissed his forehead, wanting nothing more than to banish Remy's concern. "I want to be with you too. I realize this won't be easy, but... Things have changed."
He had trouble explaining exactly how his world had tilted on its axis within the past twelve hours. Before he'd run into Remy, he'd genuinely thought nothing was more important than taking down the human conspiracy. It was all to protect his brother and his family. But now, for the first time in Baqir's life, Erdi had slid down to second place in his priorities.
He was not good at emotions, and he wasn't sure how to explain everything that was in his heart without sounding like he was rejecting Remy. He wrapped his arm around Remy's shoulders, holding him tighter as he tried to gather his thoughts.
"I told you yesterday that I didn't want to be a silencer, but for the moment, that's exactly what I am. And I'm needed, Remy. There are things happening, things that unsettle me greatly, and I get this feeling like I'm missing something big, like I'm being watched from the shadows. The humans have already made it clear that they're dangerous." He paused, considering his following words. "I've never been afraid of them—but I am now, not for myself, but for you."
Remy's soft hand landed on his chest, straight over his heart. "Here's the thing, Qiri. You don't have to do it all alone, and you don't have to be afraid. I might not be a silencer, but I'm not helpless either. The years have taught me a lot about the silencer world, more than I'd have wanted to know, to be honest. We're in this together, and while hunting down human conspirators is not my ideal version of courtship, I think for us, it just might work."
Baqir didn't know what surprised him more—the idea that his mate would be so open and understanding with their particular brand of peculiarity, or that Remy had decided to use a pet name for him. He'd done it before, but at the time, they'd been in the throes of passion. And no one had ever called him anything except Baqir. If he'd ever experienced the affection inherent in a simple thing like a pet name, it had long ago faded from his mind.
"I wish I could have courted you properly," he confessed. They were doing things all out of order, rushing into decisions and making choices that would change them forever—and Baqir, who'd always tried to calculate the optimum course of action in every situation, was unsettled by it.
Remy freed himself from his embrace and straddled him once again. He was beautiful, unselfconscious about his nudity, and yet, a hint of uncertainty lingered in his slightly unfocused eyes. Nonetheless, he poked Baqir's forehead again, much like he had earlier. "Stop thinking. I don't regret what we did, and neither should you. Trust yourself, and trust me. We can do this."
He was so brave, Baqir's mate. This couldn't be easy for him either, but he was still trying his best and at the same time reassuring Baqir. It was more than Baqir deserved, more than he'd ever hoped to find—but when he looked at Remy, he truly believed they could do this.
Because at the core of his being, Baqir was not a good man. He wasn't selfless enough to let Remy go, or to leave Remy l
ike Erdi had done with his own mate. He wanted this too much, and moon help him, he would have it, have Remy, no matter what price he had to pay.
****
It took quite some time for Remy and Baqir to actually leave the bed. They didn't necessarily decide on it, and neither did they turn it into anything more than it was—a lazy couple of hours spent exploring the potential of a new relationship.
It was Remy who got out of bed first, and only because he wanted to prepare breakfast. He even made them real tea—one that wouldn't get them drunk—and mused over how it was possible for Baqir to slot so neatly into his life. He didn't have to give any thought to retrieving two mugs instead of one. It was just natural, like he'd been waiting for this all along.
When Baqir joined him in the kitchen, Remy couldn't help but shoot his lover a smile full of contentment. Baqir stole it right off his lips, pressing their mouths together in the ghost of a kiss. Comfortable, natural, almost domestic—like they did this every morning. How?
Even when Baqir broke their kiss, he leaned against Remy as they drank their tea and ate their breakfast. It felt so comfortable that Remy instinctively knew it couldn't last. For one, they hadn't actually bonded—and that was something they hadn't discussed even if Remy had wanted to approach it earlier.
This had happened too quickly, and they'd been intoxicated when they'd had sex, so mating wouldn't have been a good idea. Still, the more time Remy spent in Baqir's presence, the more he craved it, craved the bond he could already feel forming between them.
He was both relieved and disappointed when an unfamiliar ring shattered the moment and broke him out of his thoughts. Baqir grimaced. "I should probably take that."
Remy sighed. They were both well aware that they were needed, and he wanted to continue his investigation too. Even so, he would have much preferred to spend some time basking in the simple enjoyment of Baqir's presence.
Baqir took the incoming call, and Remy unashamedly eavesdropped. He wasn't wholly surprised when he heard Reynard's voice on the other side of the connection. "Where are you?" the other werewolf asked Baqir. "I was expecting you yesterday."
"I was... delayed," Baqir replied, stealing a glance at Remy that said he didn't in the least bit mind the delay. "Do you have anything new for me?"
"I might," Reynard replied. "And it's not good. We've lost another one. It's Jean."
Baqir went rigid, the relaxation Remy had worked so hard for draining out in an instant. Another one. What did that mean? Was someone dead? Remy couldn't tell for sure, but the tension in Baqir's stance suggested something serious.
"Where are you?" Baqir asked, his tone so sharp it almost seemed brittle.
"The shop. Meet me there. I'd rather not say more over the phone."
"Fine. I'll be with you in a bit."
Without another word, Baqir ended the call. For a few seconds, he simply stared at the wall, shoulders straight, stance flawless, looking more like a statue than a man. And then, he turned toward Remy, and Remy knew. "We've talked about this," he snapped at his mate. "I'm going with you. I'm not helpless."
"No, you're not helpless, but I'd rather not draw you into this. If Reynard went so far as to call me, this is dangerous."
"Of course it's dangerous, but I knew that going in. What do you think I'd be doing if I hadn't met you yesterday?"
A slow shudder swept over Baqir, and then he shook his head, as if trying to push back his thoughts. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"So tell me. I'm not scared of them."
"That's what you think now, but it'll change. Don't speak of things you can't possibly fathom."
Remy couldn't help but bristle. "Is that right? So what exactly does that mean for you and me? Because I'm not a one-night fuck, Baqir. I'm your mate, and you won't silence me."
That was the wrong thing to say. He was angry, because they'd made a promise to one another, and Baqir was already going back on his part of the bargain, like it had meant nothing. The ugly niggling at the back of his mind was flaring bright now, blinding him.
He shouldn't be so furious. Baqir owed him nothing. Beyond them being destined mates, they'd just met, and they'd had a few hours of amazing sex. No matter what Remy wanted, Baqir obviously didn't feel the same.
Baqir narrowed his eyes and his nostrils flared. His dark gaze pinned Remy with the same fierceness Remy had seen the night before. It was different this time around, as passion was no longer the emotion behind it.
"I don't need to silence you," he said, voice deathly quiet. "You've just done it yourself."
Remy wanted to say something, anything that would stop this. But Baqir was already moving, grabbing the clothes they had discarded in a flurry of desire, and Remy's mouth was dry, his vocal cords refusing to obey him.
Baqir was right. With his outburst, Remy had essentially given up his right to say anything regarding what Baqir did next.
'I don't want to be a silencer' Baqir had told him. Whatever had prompted the confession, it didn't make it any less true—and Remy had just thrown it into his face.
Finally, just as Baqir reached the doorway, Remy managed to find his voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"Maybe you didn't," Baqir answered. "But that doesn't change the truth you and I both know. Not all mates are actually meant to be together."
Remy's breath caught at the reply, because it echoed his worst fear. "Is that why you didn't claim me last night?"
He didn't expect a reply, and when it came, he almost wished Baqir had stayed silent. "No." Baqir looked over his shoulder and this time, his eyes were icy. "I didn't claim you because I didn't want to. I didn't want you."
The reply was like a physical blow, and Remy just watched dumbly as Baqir finally stepped out of the apartment. In the silence that settled behind him, the two mugs still filled with tea mocked him.
With steady hands, Remy placed the mugs in the sink and cleaned the detritus of their breakfast. He then gathered the clothes and the dirty sheets in a garbage bag and set it all aside. He should probably take them to the cleaners or, better yet, toss them, but he didn't have the heart to deal with it just yet.
Besides, the physical task had done its job. His mind was clear now. Baqir didn't want to be a silencer, but that was what he was. His life was dangerous, and he didn't want to draw Remy into it. Remy's overreaction aside, there was one thing that stood out.
Baqir was afraid. Remy had committed many mistakes in his life, but he'd also learned from them, and he knew what it would take to fix this.
Sometimes, if you loved somebody, if you wanted what was best for them—you needed to become what they were. Remy had once lost his eyesight to the silencer world. It was just as well that he would lose his heart, and everything else that made him who he was.
It was just as well that, for Baqir, he'd have to become a silencer too.
Chapter Four
Baqir was furious with himself. He should have known better than to make promises he couldn't keep. He should have never believed in the promises of someone else. Why had he done it? Why had he forgotten?
Sentiment. Foolish emotions. Things that Baqir had torn out of his heart, until only familial protectiveness remained. Clearly, he hadn't done a good enough job, because he hadn't managed to completely wipe away the urge to have a mate—that urge that made every werewolf stupid over people they'd barely even met.
Thinking back, Baqir knew that Remy had been angry and afraid, and that had triggered his outburst. He knew that he shouldn't feel betrayed, and perhaps lingering on the conversation was giving it far more attention than it deserved. He also knew that his own impulse to trust someone else in such a delicate matter should have already alerted him that something was very wrong.
And yes, Baqir was self-aware enough to realize the truth about his desire to protect Remy, but that didn't change the basic core of the situation—the fact that they were both too stubborn to reach a compromise. More im
portantly, he was and would always be a silencer—and Remy would always resent his kind for the loss of his eyesight.
It was just as well that Reynard had new information for him, because if Baqir dwelled any longer on his failure of a love life, he'd go insane. Reynard must have also realized he wasn't in the best of moods, because the moment Baqir entered his tea shop, he was ready with the information that served best to distract him.
"The new body is just like the others. Concentrations of a form of GHB in the bloodstream. Traces of serotonin, phenylethylamine, testosterone, endorphines, epinephrine, norepinephrine and cortisol—just like before. Signs of intercourse. No obvious sign of what could have killed him."
Baqir rubbed his eyes tiredly. If the dead men had been human, the date-rape drug could have affected them to the point of suffocation, but that was not the case for werewolves. Reynard had studied GHB extensively and had pointed out that werewolf bodies were naturally resilient to the way the drug worked. The silencers targeted popped up hours after rigor mortis had already set in, and they seemed to have been fiercely aroused before their deaths. The cortisol suggested they might have also been afraid, but that didn't make any sense, because first and foremost, werewolves—whether they were silencers, enforcers, or your run-of-the-mill regular shifter—had very strong self-preservation instincts. Arousal wouldn't endure their fight-or-flight impulses. But there were too many variables to considered, and the line between the brain chemistry of sexuality and that of fear was so thin that it was impossible to figure out what exactly had happened to the victim.
One thing was certain, though. "Whatever is killing them is unlike anything we've seen before," he said, feeling frustrated and angry with himself and the situation. The GHB element was, at the very least, unusual.
Reynard nodded and grimaced, which ironically almost improved Baqir's mood. Not being able to decipher the mystery of the deaths was probably like a personal insult to Reynard, who'd dedicated his whole like to studying chemistry and biology. The amusement faded when Reynard cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable. "Actually, I might have misled you. There is something different about this one."