Awakening the Alpha

by Carolina Valdez

  “Two reasons. One was to visit my grandfather on the reservation outside the park, but I also came to sketch this wild and beautiful place.” He shared the story of the Morning Glory Hole.

  “If you use color, you can make the water the deep blue you remember.”

  Logan smiled. “I can, and I did. It’s nice talking with someone who gets it.”

  “Would you like me to take you on a tour of the places you haven’t seen in a while? I don’t work tomorrow, and Kaye’s will pack a picnic lunch for us.”

  In his eagerness to be with Blaze for an extended period of time, Logan looked him in the eyes from across the table. “I’d like that very much.”

  The phenomenon happened again, but this time the golden strand not only mated with his cock, balls, and ass, it also encircled his heart.

  Blaze sat back suddenly, breaking eye contact, and his skin went whiter than white.

  “Odd, isn’t it?” Logan said in a quiet voice.

  Blaze stared at him, and Logan sensed he was calculating whether or not he should admit to the weird encounter. After a moment, he nodded. “Think it means anything?”

  Logan shrugged. “Maybe we should take time to find out.”

  Logan wasn’t ready to ask what Blaze had seen or share what he had. After all, in a public restaurant, where someone might overhear, he could hardly say a gold cord had whipped around his cock and balls. Had it been the same for the man across from him?

  Blaze nodded. “Yes, I think we need to take time. Would tomorrow work for the tour?”

  “It works fine. I guess it’s also as good a day as any to start figuring this out.”

  “Bring your sketchbook.”

  “Wouldn’t that be boring for you?”

  “Not if you make temporary sketches instead of finished drawings. I’m not artistic, so I’d welcome the chance to see what your eyes see that mine may not. Plus, I’d like the chance to get to know you.”

  “I’d like that too. But here’s our order, so pardon me while I fill my face.”

  They had steak—which Blaze ordered rare and Logan chose medium well done—with baked potato, braised asparagus, and a huge salad. Blaze drank a light beer, but Logan chose water. The high rate of alcoholism among Native Americans discouraged him from risking it. His father, although a successful businessman, had had his battle with the bottle. It was why he’d been sent to live with Kenu until his father had won his victory over the disease. Logan was grateful his dad had at least been sober all of Logan’s adult life.

  There was peach pie a la mode for dessert, and they drank coffee with it. Logan doctored his with cream and sugar. Blaze took it black.

  “The rare occasions when we had coffee on an op, cream and sugar weren’t available. Most of us learned to drink it black. I can’t tell you how god-awful some of it was. The Turks make it strong and add enough sugar to rot your teeth on the spot.”

  Logan laughed. “That’s what they say. Apparently, it’s true.”

  “I can tell you from personal experience, it is.”

  Blaze sat back and sipped the hot brew. Logan felt his gut clench as he watched his firm lips pucker to blow and cool it, then carefully sip to avoid burning his mouth. Those simple actions made Logan want to taste those lips, tease them open, and explore that mouth with his tongue.

  His feelings were so strong, he almost felt bewitched. Hell, maybe I am. Remember Coyote.

  After they’d arranged for the packed lunches and paid their bills, they stepped out under a dark curtain littered with stars, and Logan drew in a sharp breath of awe. “It’s as if the Spirits flung them capriciously into the night sky to fill it with glory.”

  “It’s the altitude and clean atmosphere,” Blaze said with a smile.

  “When they talk about Montana skies, you think about clear, bright, and blue beyond belief. No one mentions spectacular night skies, but wow. We rarely see the stars where I live. Too much evening fog or haze over the ocean.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve begun to take all this for granted. Easy to get used to beauty, even though I’ve only been here six months. Thanks for reminding me.”

  As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Logan felt his companion’s hand grip his shoulder as if to guide him. Then, as a couple approached to enter the café, Blaze said in a voice loud enough to be heard, “My car’s this way.”

  He knew where the car had been parked, and he knew Blaze had wanted to touch him. The appearance of another couple might have revealed they were gay.

  “Clever,” Logan said under his breath.

  “That’s the kind of guy I am.” Blaze shifted his hand up and caressed Logan’s neck with his forefinger.

  The stroking sparked a simmering in Logan’s sex glands. They were poised to ignite into something wild. To draw Blaze closer, he tipped his head to his shoulder and captured his hand with his cheek.

  Blaze dropped his arm.

  “Such a tease you are, Instructor Canis.”

  “Yeah, I’m that too.” He smiled as he said it.

  They drove in silence to the range property, parked, and left the car. Logan felt a little dazed by what he was experiencing with this man. When Blaze unlocked the gun safe, Logan’s need to touch him was so strong, it caused him to brush his arm the length of Blaze’s as they reached in to retrieve their weapons. The feel of his instructor’s skin sent pleasure skimming across his own.

  Blaze tipped his head and smiled at him. “Pretty heady, isn’t it?”

  Logan’s tongue was buzzing so much, he couldn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

  Side by side, they walked to the parking area. They stood for a moment before getting into their cars. An until tomorrow kiss seemed fitting for what they’d learned about their attraction to each other in the past few hours, but neither of them moved. For himself, Logan knew it was fear of uncharted territory with this man.

  “What time tomorrow?” Blaze asked. “You probably know how slow driving can be on these two-lane roads. Especially if the bison decide to block them.”

  “Early. I’d like to use the morning light, and I’ve already experienced bison block. Talk about human road rage.” He laughed.

  “At daybreak, then?”

  “My motel’s just outside the west gate. We can take my car, but I’d like you to drive.”

  “See you then.” Blaze reached to shake his hand, and when Logan responded, he pulled him into a guy’s hug. It lasted longer than most, and Logan closed his eyes to shut out distractions and take in fully how this man’s strong arms felt around him. So far, it felt right.

  “Don’t forget the lunches,” Logan reminded him after they’d broken apart.

  Blaze saluted him. “Aye aye, sir. Planning and remembering strategic things is something Navy SEALs excel in…even retired SEALs.”

  “Then I’ll hold you to it.”

  Again, they stood without speaking, reluctant to leave each other’s presence. Then, as if prompted by some unspoken impulse, they turned and headed in opposite directions for their cars.

  * * * *

  Logan was waiting outside the motel as dawn sent its silent arc of pale pink across the horizon and Blaze parked in front. Just seeing the car pull up sent a thrill of anticipation racing through Logan. He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this way about a man before, and he wasn’t sure if it was real or another trick of Coyote. Still, he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of being with him—if for no other reason than to get the sour taste of Bernard out of his system. He was sure Blaze Canis would never be demanding, whine, or crowd a man.

  Blaze left his car. “Hi.” He spoke in a hushed voice so as not to waken motel guests who weren’t early risers.

  “Hi.” It sounded inane, especially in the subdued tones they were using, but Logan was so filled with lust for the figure before him, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He watched as Blaze left his car, propped a metal box on the hood, closed the doors, and clicked the lock. Logan noticed he
hadn’t shaved, and the dark stubble added even more character to his already interesting face. For the first time, he noticed the thin line of a healed scar running from his right eye to his temple.

  That made two scars.

  Before he could ask about this, Blaze surprised him by hugging him and kissing each cheek with a feathery brush of his lips European fashion. Logan wasn’t sure where that had come from, but he liked being touched and especially liked those warm lips and mouth against his skin. He wanted more. Badly.

  Blaze stepped away and studied Logan. “You look great. I wondered how you’d look with your hair loose. Sleeveless is good because it’s going to be warm today. I’ve never been able to get my hair to grow very long, which was okay because I had to keep it pretty short in the navy anyway. Now I’m used to it this way.”

  “You look good dressed for the great outdoors. I can see the stalwart sailor in you. Did you remember our lunches?”

  “Like I said, SEALs arrive prepared. Our lunches are in the metal container. It’s supposedly bear proof, but I’m not sure I believe it.”

  “Bears?”

  “Uh-huh, but I don’t think we’ll encounter any in a geyser basin this time of year. They’d likely be drawn there in early winter to keep warm before they go into hibernation.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “But where are your art supplies?”

  “In the trunk of my car, where we’ll put our lunches.” Logan clicked his keys and released a quiet laugh as the bronze doors lifted to form their butterfly wings.

  “Holy Moses, that’s really something. What kind of car is it?”

  Logan told him, explaining it had been built as a concept car and never sold to the general public. “I bought it secondhand from the company exec who owned it.” He stowed their lunches in the trunk and handed him the keys. “Be my guest.”

  At the park entrance, Blaze displayed his National Parks annual pass, Logan produced his CDIB certificate, and they rolled through.

  Logan could feel the strong winds always present in this section of the park buffeting the car.

  Blaze’s powerful hands held the car steady. “They have a sixty-four-mile bicycle ride from West Yellowstone to Old Faithful and back in early fall. Just before the first snow if they’re lucky. I rode in it when I first arrived, and the winds in this part, coming or going, were brutal. Still, biking is a nice way to view wildlife in the meadows along the Yellowstone River.”

  “I think I see wild swans! I’ve only seen them in a zoo.”

  “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

  They rode in silence for a time. “You’re right about missing much if you drive through. My hand itches to get to my pastels and recreate these wheat-colored meadow grasses and the contrasting browns of that herd of bison with the whites of the swans on the blue water.”

  A group of people with cameras was clustered beside their cars just off the roadway ahead. A woman pointed to a gray animal in the grasses near the rush of the river. He saw her mouth the word wolf, and cameras rose in hands to take the shot.

  “Those people are photographing a wolf near the river,” he told Blaze as he strained to see.

  Blaze laughed. “That’s a coyote, not a wolf. As I said earlier, their ears are too upright and too tall. Wolves are shy and hide. You wouldn’t find one here in the open, especially at this time of day.”

  “You can see all that while driving?”

  “Nope. I happen to know that particular coyote hangs out with this buffalo herd, although they’re usually only seen earlier than this in the morning.”

  “Maybe not such a bad mistake for those viewers. Many of them probably haven’t seen a coyote either.”

  They laughed together.

  Blaze said, “I need to know which way to turn when we reach the junction. If you haven’t seen the Artist’s Paint Pot Trails, I thought you might like them. Lots of color there, but Old Faithful’s in the opposite direction.”

  “I’ve seen that, and I’ve already sketched Morning Glory, so the trails sound perfect. I brought a couple of folding chairs.”

  “Good. This is some car, by the way. Smoothest ride I’ve ever had, and these doors are phenomenal. How did you find it?”

  “It’s fun, isn’t it? I see it as a big bronze beetle moving through this unique and breathtaking part of the world. I learned of it through a friend of a friend of a friend. I admired the car when I was painting some portraits for the exec. He’d tired of its uniqueness and had moved on to something even more exclusive and exotic, so he sold it to me for pennies on the dollar. Well, at least a lot less than its value. It’s about fourteen years old and was never considered for production.”

  Blaze turned left at the fork and drove for several miles before pulling off the road and parking on the shoulder. They spotted a sign marked Paint Pots with an arrow pointing to a trail. Loaded down with two compact chairs and artist’s supplies that included a collapsible easel, they struck out on the short walk.

  “Unbelievable.” Logan whistled when they came to the boardwalk traversing the scenic area and caught his first glimpse. “I haven’t been here before.”

  “It is unbelievable, isn’t it? Each time I come, it seems new, and its beauty’s just as engaging.”

  There were railings along the walk to prevent someone from stumbling into waters hotter than boiling. White mists of steam rose from scattered pools in many shades of blue. Lush green grasses and trees surrounded the area. Sometimes there were patches of orange earth, now known to Logan to be the result of bacteria.

  They opened their chairs, and Logan removed his materials and began to sketch.

  * * * *

  Fascinated, Blaze sat and watched Logan lose himself in his work. His dark hair flowed in a gleaming fall over his wide shoulders and the sides of his face. To keep the view of his subjects clear, at times Logan’s sure hands would tuck it behind his ears with deft movements, seemingly unconscious of what he was doing.

  Even when he was ready to move to a new vista, he didn’t speak to Blaze. It was as if he’d forgotten he was there. Doesn’t even realize I’ve carried his chair and supplies each time he’s moved to a new spot.

  This amused Blaze, yet it was something he understood. On the battlefield, you shut out the extraneous to concentrate on the job you had to do. Your teammates did the same. Some people called it being in the groove. Others called it flow.

  From what Blaze was observing about Logan, he would call it flow. He imagined him lost in the images, colors, and feelings flowing through his vision and emotions to his skillful fingers. Logan’s concentration was so deep, it was almost frantic. He must think if he didn’t capture it on paper now, he’d lose it all. Maybe lose the sense of wonder, the passion of first seeing this breathtaking place.

  Often, Blaze would step behind Logan, glance at the charcoal or pastel scenes flying from his fingers onto the white pad, and know he was seeing an enormous talent. He wondered if Rider was famous, but then he realized his knowledge of what constituted good art could be stored on a snowflake. He was a hardened sonofagun who could barely sketch a stick figure. He’d have never seen the beauty in those tones of brown contrasting with the swan on the river. Still, something about this man and his art tugged at him. Plus, his inner wolf had run in circles this morning when he’d first looked at Logan. Whether that was anxiety or approval, he had no way of knowing. At least it hadn’t yipped in alarm.

  When they’d left the boards and climbed earthen steps to another level, Logan stood for a moment and looked around. It was warm by the hot pools, and his face was damp with sweat. Several strands of hair had escaped from behind his ears and were plastered to his cheeks.

  Blaze couldn’t resist touching him. He lifted the strands and pushed them behind Logan’s ears, making sure his fingers touched the tops of his ears and the warmth of the beating pulses at his temples. A hum of pleasure began inside him.

  As if coming out of a fog, Logan said, “Oh,
it’s you.”

  “Yes, Logan Rider, it’s me, Blaze Canis.” He leaned in and brushed his lips across Logan’s, oblivious to whether or not they were seen and not caring if they were. “Hmm, you taste good. Ready to take a break?”

  The artist shook his head, and a shake of it flung his long hair behind his shoulders with practiced finesse. “What about the mud pots? Are they far?”

  With an inward groan, Blaze, whose stomach demanded food, said, “We can make it now if you’d like. There may be less color there, so it might not take you as long.”

  Turned out he was wrong. They passed small, shooting geysers here and there. And, contrary to his hope, ponds whose blue was opaque from silica enticed Logan to stop and sketch. He halted again when they came upon brilliant orange runoff from a break in the earth’s crust called a fumarole. Volcanic gasses escaped from them.

  “Bacteria cause that color,” Blaze said. “The volcano causes the sulfur odor.”

  “Ugh. Let’s move on. I can’t stand the smell.”

  The mud pots were pale brown, slick, and so noisy they sounded like gigantic plops of heavy rainfall.

  Logan laughed as he sketched. “They’re like upside down pots that suddenly bubble up, burp, and disappear into the mud again before resurfacing. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “Lots of unique things here. Thanks to President Teddy Roosevelt, it’s preserved forever for people to enjoy.”

  “I’ll have to come back another morning. There’s just too much to take in.”

  * * * *

  When they finally broke for lunch, they decided to eat in the car to avoid attracting a bear.

  Half in jest, Blaze said, “If one comes, I’ll just start the car and blast off like the jump to hyperspace. This car looks like it could do that.” He withdrew thermoses of cold water from the metal anti-bear container. He handed one to Logan as he broke out bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado sandwiches on toasted white bread. There were small bags of chips, which quickly disappeared.

  “Too much fat and salt, but I could’ve eaten more of those,” Logan said.

  Blaze agreed.