Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 06 - Reverence

by Bailey Bradford

Val nodded his understanding. When he left the diner, there would be a confrontation, likely a violent one that ended in his death, or at least in him being in a lot of pain. He turned back and ate his pie, barely tasting it although he told the waitress that yes, it was indeed the best peach pie ever. Val didn’t linger over the meal, and he pocketed the knife as he’d intended, leaving a generous tip and hoping he wasn’t getting the waitress in trouble.

  Outside the diner, he searched for the shifter he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to find him. The man waited on the corner for him. Val’s senses might be dulled, but he could still smell the acrid tang of an unwashed body. The shifter smelt like a vagrant, not just someone who’d been out stalking a person and hadn’t bathed, but the deeper, sunken-in odour of dirt that took several baths to eliminate. His clothes were ratty, torn, ill-fitting, and his hair was more knots than locks. Val had thought it was brown, but who knew what colour it was under all of the grunge.

  Val took a few steps closer, fingering the knife in his pocket. “What do you want?” he ventured to ask.

  “Who are you?” the other shifter grated out, his voice as rough as if he’d scarred his throat tissue from years of smoking, or perhaps a long period of not talking.

  Val cocked his head to one side and hoped he came off as self-assured when he was really scared. Dying wasn’t high on his list of things to do, but he’d give his life to keep Harley safe. That was part of following his orders.

  “You will not harm him,” he finally said, snarling when he’d meant to speak calmly. “You will not touch him, I won’t let you, and neither will the Alpha Anax.”

  “What the fuck is an Alpha Anax?” the man asked, clearly bewildered. “And what the hell, you’re the one mauling the man in the God damned alley. What were you doing, setting him up to turn him? You think that’d accomplish your goal?”

  Val came closer, anger burning hot in his chest. “And what do you know about my goal? You think killing him is the solution?” How the hell did the shifter not know what or who the Alpha Anax was?

  “Killing him? I don’t think so.”

  The words were uttered so quietly, Val barely heard them. Confusion tapped at his brain cells and he hesitated for a second, which gave his attacker all the time he needed. Val’s skills at fighting were top-notch, or had been before he’d almost died. Now he found himself dodging a punch and being grabbed around the waist. He was hoisted over one big, smelly shoulder and the fight was on.

  Except, he couldn’t get free of the man, and was being carried into another dark alley. Val tried to kick, hit, he even bit the nasty shirt and soured skin beneath it. He had to have drawn blood to the man’s back, but the guy didn’t even grunt. Instead he slammed Val violently against the wall.

  “Fuck with him, will you,” he growled. “I’ll fucking kill you before I let you do the same thing to him one of you did to me.”

  Val’s ears were ringing and his brain was jarred, he thought, which might have been why he didn’t understand what the hell his attacker was saying. Val was pinned, between the man’s back and the cement or brick wall, upside down, still dangling over that shoulder. He kicked and reached around, got a handful of balls and squeezed, hard.

  “Augh!”

  Val landed painfully, still keeping his grip. He wasn’t the only one to hit the ground, and soon he was gasping, pain and lack of air combining to make him dizzy. He tugged on the balls again and was able to take advantage of the hurt he was causing and roll out from under the damned giant on him. He also had to let go of his source of control, but that was okay. Val made sure to add enough of a twist that he doubted his attacker would be getting up any time soon.

  “You better stay the hell away from him,” he rasped, and damn it, the stupid butter knife had fallen out of his pocket somewhere along the way! “Come near Harley again, and I’ll rip your fucking head off.” One way or another, I’ll keep him safe. Even if it means taking a human route to that and using a gun. Val almost shivered at the thought. He’d carried a gun as a weapon a few times and never liked it, because, to him, he was the weapon—but not anymore.

  He didn’t wait around for the other shifter’s reply. Being anywhere close once he recovered wasn’t a good idea. The guy’d be out for Val’s balls, and that whole eye for an eye thing didn’t sound so great now. Val spun and almost fell, his thigh protesting the sudden move, but he thought of Harley, kept his feet, and ran.

  Chapter Eight

  Val was a shifter, that was what he’d meant. Harley couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How could he have been attracted to one of them? Jesus God, he was still attracted to him! Harley’s stupid dick was every bit as hard as it’d been before he came. Riding away in the cab felt like the biggest mistake he’d ever made, and it actually kind of hurt like a physical pain.

  “Damn it.” Harley clasped his head in his hands. He wanted Val, wanted all of him, even wanted to feel Val take him! How had this happened? Harley knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Nathan—and Marcus, he guessed—had sent someone to watch him. They’d warned him, hadn’t they? For his own good, Nathan had said. Harley thought of those glowing yellow eyes in the alley. Had Val had an accomplice, or was he staying behind and playing the white knight, sending Harley off to safety?

  Flashes of the viciousness he’d witnessed caused Harley to break out in a cold sweat. Val was a shifter, but he was…he was hurt, somehow. He had that scar, and the eye patch, and he limped—could he take on a healthier shifter? Were his limitations only in human form? Harley couldn’t make sense of that. It seemed to him that a shifter would be just as injured, if the injury had been permanent, in whatever form the shifter was in. He knew they healed really fast, had seen it happen, so whatever had damaged Val, it had to have been really bad, right? He thought of the man in the hospital bed, of the way he’d felt when he’d touched that still, swollen hand. Maybe he had a thing for wounded shifters, or wounded men.

  Harley slumped in the seat. What would mess up a shifter that bad? He couldn’t imagine. It had to leave Val at a disadvantage, though, just as it would a regular human being, when it came to a physical confrontation. A wolf in the wild, blind in one eye, and lame, for lack of a better word, probably wouldn’t last long at all. And Harley didn’t think shifters were much more evolved than their hairy counterparts.

  Val had been nice, though, and he had a mouth that—“Stop it,” Harley chided himself. Damn, he ached somewhere deep inside. Leaving Val felt all kinds of wrong, and he didn’t know why. It just did, and Harley couldn’t do it, because if Val was really decent—and Harley could grudgingly admit that maybe some shifters weren’t total murdering psychos— then he might have just sacrificed himself to keep Harley safe

  That was just fucked up. Harley didn’t want anyone dying for him, and if Val died, something told Harley he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it. He bolted up and whacked the driver’s seat. “Go back!”

  The cabbie held up the fifty. Harley cursed and dug a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet. “You want it? Follow my orders instead, you asshole!”

  Okay, calling your cab driver names was not Harley’s brightest moment, and the Uturn the man took flung Harley across the back seat of the vehicle. He should have buckled up, but whatever. He let the driver get his kicks—it didn’t matter, just as long as he got back to Val. “Hurry!”

  The trip away from the club had been pretty smooth, but the cabbie found every bump he possibly could, jostling the crap out of Harley. Harley kept his eyes peeled for Val and for those glowing yellow eyes. When they reached the club he got out, his heart slamming because he didn’t see Val anywhere. There were no glowing eyes in the alley, either. “You want the hundred, wait here,” he told the driver right before he got out. Harley tore the hundred in half and tossed one piece at the angry man. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I hope. Damn it all! What am I doing?

  What’s right, that’s what I’m doing. I can hate all shifters for the actions of
Dobson, and be the kind of bigot I’ve had to fight against all my life, it seems like. Or I can get over my fear and accept that there are good shifters just like there are good humans. Fucking fear makes everyone haters, even me. I am so ashamed.

  Harley’s internal dialogue was one he hoped he’d remember later, when he had time to examine it. Right now, he just wanted to find Val, to make sure he wasn’t dead or hurt or…whatever. He just wanted to find him. Harley jogged past the club, scanning the surrounding area. The diner was doing a fairly good business, but he didn’t see Val there. It was possible he’d gone back in the club. Harley didn’t know where to look first.

  “Fuck!” Harley screeched as he ran into a familiar hard body. This time his momentum took them both to the ground, and he heard Val’s sharp gasp as they hit, Val wrapping Harley in his arms and rolling slightly, which probably saved Harley from cracking his head open.

  “Oh my God, you’re okay.” Harley knew he sounded breathless and hoped Val attributed it to the fall, but the truth was, just feeling Val, seeing him, made Harley unaccountably happy to his soul. He didn’t even question why, because it was just true and he was done doubting himself constantly.

  Val grunted and his eye widened. “Get up, we have to get you away from here! Why did you—?” A loud sound came from the alley Val had run out of. “Never mind. Go!” He pushed Harley and Harley grabbed his wrists, bringing Val up with him.

  “You too.” Harley kept his hold on one wrist and fitted himself under Val’s left arm. “Lean on me and move it, buddy.”

  “Buddy,” Val muttered. “Right. I know you hate us all.” But he was already moving, letting Harley guide them towards the cab.

  “We’ll talk when we get home,” Harley told him, trying to look behind them and still keep them from running into someone in front of them. They made it to the cab and he helped Val get in. “You first, I’m not having you do something so stupid again as staying behind.”

  Val flinched and Harley worried he’d taken the words wrong, but he’d explain later that he didn’t think Val any less of a man for his scars. He just had an inexplicable need to keep Val safe, and to touch him. He did so, too, sliding in beside Val and putting a hand to his right leg. “Now, take us to the address he gave you—and you only get the other half if you don’t hit every God damned bump you can find!”

  “What do ya expect when you call me an asshole?” the driver bitched.

  “I expect you to prove me wrong, strive for better customer service or something,” Harley retaliated. “Now will you just drive?” He turned to look out of the rear window and thought he saw someone coming from the alley, but it was hard to say for certain as a group of people came out of the club. Harley settled back and turned to Val. “Are you okay?”

  Val didn’t seem to know where to look, or maybe he just didn’t want to look at him. The idea made Harley feel like shit, but it was his own fault. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I’m…I’m trying, here.” He waited and Val finally glanced at him.

  “Okay. I don’t understand why you came back.”

  Harley started to answer, then, suspicion poking at him, he checked and sure enough, the cabbie seemed to be paying them too much attention. “Do you mind?” he snapped. The driver shrugged. Harley sighed and turned his attention back to Val. “I couldn’t leave you, that’s why. Something here,” he pressed at his gut, “actually hurt the farther away we got. When I realised what you were doing, what might happen,” he slanted a look at the nosy cab driver again, glared at him, “I knew I had to rearrange some of my thinking, okay? I have always despised the narrow-mindedness of bigots, and yet I became one. That really disturbed me.”

  Val averted his gaze, giving Harley his profile, which was damned near artistically perfect, he thought. Val’s profile should have been carved in the finest marble and displayed in galleries. Oh hell, Harley thought with an internal snort, he was turning into a love-struck teenager.

  The drive back to the apartment building was quiet, and Harley wanted to squirm but he respected that Val might need some time to process everything, or maybe he just didn’t talk much. Occasionally he’d catch Val staring at him in the reflection in the car window, but only for a split second. Still, it gave Harley hope that maybe he hadn’t blown everything. He didn’t know what was going on with him, or between him and Val, but something was. Harley intended to find out exactly what it was.

  Right after he convinced Val to have sex with him.

  “Here’s the other half,” Harley said when the cab stopped. He handed the torn money over and got out. Val got out on his side instead of sliding over. Harley told himself that was because it was easier on Val’s leg to do so, but he worried Val just hated him. Well, he was being a real drama queen. Harley gave himself a mental eye roll and waited for Val to join him before walking into the building.

  Harley almost always took the stairs, but the way Val was limping that was out of the question. He stopped at the elevators and pushed the UP button. Val still wasn’t looking at him. “Are you going to ever talk to me?” he asked the shifter.

  Val turned that one eye on him for half a second and didn’t answer. Harley fought against stomping his foot in annoyance, and huffed, “Great.” He narrowed his eyes at Val. “I get the silent treatment. What are you, my wife?” If he couldn’t have a civil conversation with Val, maybe he could provoke him into saying something. Anything was better than the continued silence.

  What he didn’t expect was the snort of laughter from the man. Harley gaped as Val began to snicker. Laughing like that, he was beyond gorgeous, and Harley yearned for him with a desperation so sharp that it should have scared him. As it was, he just stared, slackjawed and almost drooling.

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Harley was pushed inside gently, then the doors closed and that wonderful laughter stopped. He snapped his mouth shut when he realised Val was back to being quiet.

  “Are you mad or not?” he asked, confused by the reserved expression Val now had in place.

  Val shook his head slightly. “No. I wasn’t mad in the first place. I just needed to think. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes, Harley. I try to make sure what I want to say is the right thing before I say it, if it’s important to me.”

  “Well, now I’m really nervous.” Harley rolled his lips in to bite them and keep back any more admissions he’d rather not share. His habit of talking to himself was going to get him in deep shit.

  One edge of Val’s mouth curved just a little, and Harley’s pulse jumped. He stared at Val’s lips as Val spoke. “I owe you an apology, first off, and I would prefer to do it properly. Tossing it out there in a filthy cab seemed cheesy.” The elevator stopped and Harley started to get off, but Val stopped him. “Please. Let me do what I’m supposed to. I need to check and make sure the hall is safe, and that no one has tampered with your door or entered your apartment.”

  Harley pointed at his door. “But there’s three deadbolts on that thing. Surely no one got in.”

  Val shook his head. “You can’t go by how many locks you have on a door. A skilled lockpicker could get past those in minutes.”

  Harley wanted to argue more but the intense expression Val wore kept him silent. He wouldn’t risk insulting Val, which was how he feared Val would interpret him expressing concern for Val’s safety. Harley stood by the elevator and watched Val check the door, the stair well, even Val’s own door.

  Seemingly satisfied, Val came back over to him. “It’s all clear.” Val pivoted and strode for his door.

  Harley shook himself and, for the first time, saw that blood matted Val’s short hair in the back. “What the hell happened to you?” He rushed to Val and reached for the lump he’d seen on the back of Val’s head only to have Val turn and glare at him.

  “What happened to me? What made me this damaged freak of a shifter?” Val hissed the last word so that it was barely comprehensible. Harley opened his mouth to explain that wasn’t what he’d mean
t, but Val turned and stomped off, limping heavily and making Harley wince and wish he could help him. He hurried after Val, who despite having a bum leg had very long strides that Harley struggled to match with his shorter legs.

  “I wasn’t always like this,” Val muttered, pulling out keys and putting one in the lock. “I wasn’t damaged. I was a damn good soldier, loyal, followed my Alpha Anax’s orders faithfully, not like tonight. No, maybe I’m messed up on the inside, too, now. I promised I wouldn’t pity myself. I don’t. I don’t.”

  Harley thought Val was talking more to himself, so he didn’t comment and Val opened the door. Harley half expected Val to shut it, having forgotten about him, but Val held it open and gestured him in. The lights were on and there were boxes all over. Val clearly hadn’t unpacked.

  “Harley.”

  Harley faced Val, whose lips were pinched tight. Fine white lines bracketed his mouth, making Harley think he must be hurting badly. “Val, your head—” He reached around Val and had to stand on his toes, but he found the sticky lump. “This is what I was talking about. You’re hurt. I didn’t mean anything else.”

  Val’s cheeks turned ruddy and he glanced down. “Sorry, I’m really sorry, Harley. I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near you, but you came after me, and I didn’t want to run. It didn’t make sense to, and it’s been a while since a man has looked at me like you did.”

  Harley brought his hand around to stroke the line of Val’s jaw. “I’m still looking at you like that, Val, even knowing you’re different. I’m trying to believe that what I’ve seen in Nathan and Marcus’ pack is true, and there are good shifters just like there are good humans, bad ones, too. I just—” He sighed and debated opening up his memories and sharing but he wasn’t ready to do that yet. “I had a very bad set of experiences, okay? With—”

  “The same man who almost killed me, Harley. I was in the front room when Dobson tore into the place.” Val caught Harley’s hand, brought it up to the lower edge of his scar. “This, the loss of my eyesight, my damaged leg, my inability to shift, to truly and deeply feel my wolf, all of these are from that attack.”