Haven City Series Books 7-9: Alpha's Gamble (Haven City Series #7), Alpha Enchanted (Haven City Series #8), Alpha's Cage (Haven City Series #9)

by Zoe Perdita

  It was Davis.

  Davis sober and asking to kiss him because. . . he didn’t even want to think about the reasons or the consequences.

  This. Was. Happening.

  His mouth met Ken’s softly, though Davis’s lips weren’t what Ken would call soft. The stubble on his cheeks tickled Ken’s chin. A surge shot through him when Davis’s tongue brushed his. Just what he was afraid of.

  Fireworks went off behind his eyes, which he’d closed at some point.

  Ken thought Davis’s mouth might be harder to move with. But it was far too pliable. Too eager as it worked against Ken’s.

  Ken’s fingers gripped the side of the counter, and he tried to bite back the groan building in his throat, but he couldn’t keep it down. It rose with Davis’s hands, which released Ken’s wrists and wound over his arms.

  Shoulders.

  Rested on the back of Ken’s neck and pushed through his hair.

  “That sound gets me off,” Davis grunted. “Do it again.”

  He sure as hell wasn’t kidding. Davis’s cock stiffened, Ken felt it against his hip. No matter what he told his mind, it didn’t want to listen. How could logic matter at a moment like that?

  So he put his hands on Davis’s hips. The flesh was hot and hard. A tremble traveled through Davis’s body at the touch.

  “What?” Ken asked.

  “Make that noise,” Davis breathed into his mouth. Their noses bumped as the alpha turned his head. Blinked.

  Ken never realized Davis’s lashes were so long and full. They framed his eyes with dark wisps. Women were probably jealous of that.

  Women. Because Davis wasn’t gay. This was just. . . just. . . . just what?

  “You want me to moan for you?” Ken asked. “This was only supposed to be a kiss.”

  Davis’s eyes were bleary again but not with alcohol. Something else clouded them. He licked his lips, and his grip on Ken’s head loosened. “You’re right.”

  Ken nodded, but he didn’t move his hands from Davis’s hips. And Davis didn’t step away. His fingers brushed through the back of Ken’s hair slowly, combing it.

  “You’re hard,” Ken said. His heart pounded out a rhythm that reminded him this was a Bad Idea.

  Every beat sounded just like that.

  Ba-dum. Bad Idea.

  Ba-dum. Bad Idea.

  “You’re not?” Davis asked and raised an eyebrow. “I– shit.”

  “Kissing me shouldn’t make you hard. I’m good but I’m not that good,” Ken said and tried to infuse his voice with a note of humor. It came out cracked.

  Pained.

  “Maybe that’s why I never did it before,” Davis said with a quirk of his lips. They were darker than usual. Fuller too.

  Damn.

  And Davis’s cock wasn’t getting any softer.

  Ken took a deep breath. Another Bad Idea, because all he could smell was Davis’s musk. He pretended Davis didn’t just say that as well.

  Things would get too complicated otherwise.

  Far too complicated.

  This was just payback for last night, Ken told himself. Simple as that. Sex meant nothing. Sex with his straight best friend meant nothing.

  It was just fooling around like he wished they could’ve done twenty years ago.

  “How do you want me to take care of that?” Ken breathed and let his fingers slip past the elastic band of Davis’s jockeys.

  “I want you to moan again,” Davis growled and kissed Ken.

  This one wasn’t soft and gentle. It had enough force that their teeth bumped, and Davis’s lips clamped onto his mouth like that’s where they belonged.

  Bad Idea.

  Yeah.

  Still. Ken melted into it. Shoved his hand all the way into Davis’s jockeys and moaned when he found Davis’s cock. Not hard in a confined space – or, actually very hard.

  For a brief moment, Davis let go of Ken’s hair and shoved off his underwear.

  Then they stumbled backwards and ended up on the kitchen floor.

  Davis went down first on his ass, and Ken banged an elbow on a cabinet, but the sudden shock of pain faded as quickly as it came. Because Davis was naked on the floor, legs sprawled and cock hard and he was reaching, pulling, grasping at Ken.

  He yanked until Ken was in his lap, straddling those powerful thighs. And Davis’s hands were as nimble as ever as he unzipped Ken’s jeans, reached in and–

  Ken’s hips bucked into the sensation.

  Davis’s fingers and palm – all heat and business.

  Not to be out done, Ken reached for Davis. He was slick and throbbing. In Ken’s fantasies of this moment, it happened slowly and not on the kitchen floor, but fuck those fantasies now. They weren’t coming true.

  This is what he had, and Davis wasn’t wasting time on niceties either.

  There were too many elbows in the way to kiss again, but that didn’t matter. Every time Davis slipped his thumb over the tip of Ken’s cock, Ken let out a groan. A whimper. A strangled cry.

  And Ken felt Davis’s eyes on him – locked like a laser.

  He couldn’t help staring into them. Gasping with each and every touch. Yanking him closer to the end. His balls tightened, and he wanted it – to come all over Davis’s fist – but then it’d be over and they’d have to deal with the shitty aftermath.

  No.

  No aftermath.

  Just that moment.

  Ken twisted his fist as Davis thrust his hips up to meet it.

  “Fuck, Ken,” he growled and Ken saw the hint of Davis’s fangs. The alpha that hid inside.

  His chest swelled – cracked – and he pushed that feeling aside to focus on the good. The now. The pleasure in every inch of Davis’s skilled hand.

  Then everything that built up tumbled down. Rained over them in a wash of lust and delight. It tingled from the tip of his cock to the base of his spine, and he moaned.

  Davis liked it when he moaned. What the fuck?

  A moment later, Davis came, his hips jerking and his load spurting over Ken’s fingers.

  All the pent up energy faded away. Dissipated in the air like fog.

  Ken’s chest heaved, and he looked at the checkered floor, black and white. The stain on that tile that he could never get up – a pink smudge. He’d do anything to avoid Davis’s eyes.

  To avoid knowing the truth. That this was another mistake. Ken made enough of those as it was.

  So he stood, cleaned off and tossed a damp paper towel at Davis without a word.

  “Ken,” Davis said and sat up.

  Ken forced himself to smile. “Don't. You don’t have to say anything.”

  Davis didn’t, and that might’ve hurt worse.

  6

  Davis sat at the living room table practicing seka. He’d been working at it all week, mostly playing alone because it was hard to get Ken to sit still long enough to talk to him about anything.

  Hell, it was hard enough to get Ken to even look at him. And he didn’t need to think about anything being hard at the moment.

  Ken swore it had nothing to do with the blowjob in the bathroom. That kiss and mutual handy on the kitchen floor. Or, at least, that’s what Davis thought Ken said. He’d mumble and change the subject. Or claim he had an errand to run and dart out of the condo before Davis could offer to come along.

  Every night, Davis slept on the couch and tried not to think about Ken, because those brief moments fucked with his head. Made him think things he tried to forget. Shove away. He got along just fine with most women. It’s not like he stuck around for a relationship, but to be real, he didn’t ever meet relationship kind of women in his line of work.

  Was a fucked up gambler an actual line of work? After this shit with Jin Yue was over, he’d find a normal job, like he promised Ken. Settle into a normal life – stay in Haven for good this time. If Ken and Tyler wanted him around.

  If not, well, he tried not to think of that eventuality either.

  The shower turned off and
Davis held his breath.

  Waited.

  A few moments later, Ken slipped out of the bathroom with a cloud of mist and disappeared into his bedroom. He had a towel around his waist, but the slender line of his back was straight and smooth.

  When Ken emerged from the room about ten minutes later, he was dressed for the second time that day. Only, he didn’t wear a suit. He’d already come home from work. Davis figured they’d do what they always did in the evenings – Ken showered and cooked dinner. Usually steak or fish. Sometimes chicken.

  Then Ken drank a glass of wine while Davis sucked on a beer and they talked about their days. Not that it was interesting. Ken was an accountant, and Davis didn’t understand the politics of an office job. It all sounded the same to him.

  Davis thought about calling Tyler, but after their last meeting. . . shit! He wasn’t sure how to make anything up to his little brother when he did exactly what Tyler thought he’d do – fucked up all over again.

  But tonight Ken wasn’t in his lounging clothes (not to be confused with his pajamas). He wore a pair of jeans and a light gray turtleneck that made Ken’s pale eyes stand out even more than usual.

  “We going out?” Davis asked with a grin. He wouldn’t mind a walk around the neighborhood, even with the icy weather coming their way. Ken lived in the nice side of Haven City, the side that decorated for Christmas with lights and wreaths and all the other things humans liked. Davis wondered if there was mistletoe out there somewhere, and if Ken would kiss him again if they stood under it together.

  Damn. He needed to think about something else besides kissing his best friend again. Like Ken said – they were grown ass men, not kids.

  Ken blinked and walked toward the door quickly. “I have a date, remember? I told you about it on Saturday.”

  Saturday? Davis thought about it, but the only memories he had of Saturday were dangerous. They all involved Ken’s mouth, and his cock and the amazing amount of pleasure that both of those things produced. He swallowed.

  “Oh,” Davis said and checked his seka hand. “With that guy?”

  Twenty. Not bad, but he could do better.

  “Sam,” Ken said, his voice harder than usual. Sharp.

  “Sam. Right. From marketing. See? I pay attention to you. More than you know,” Davis said and stood up before he realized what he was doing or why he was doing it.

  “Yeah. It’s just dinner. You can order something or, uh, there’s a steakhouse down the street that’s good. If you want me to call them I can put an order in, and you’d just have to pick it up,” Ken offered. His cell phone rested in his palm, and he was actually looking in Davis’s direction for once, though his eyes were focused on something to the side. That little tree next to the front window with the thorns on the branches.

  Davis moved around the couch. “I can feed myself you know.”

  “I know! I was trying to be nice. Fine. You have my number so—”

  “Are you in love with him?” Davis asked.

  It’d been ten goddamn years. Ken had that long to move on – get over him – and he should’ve because Davis was all wrong for him.

  Unreliable.

  Not nearly gay enough.

  Oh, and a complete asshole. There was that little tidbit.

  Ken shook his head and let out a huff that could’ve been a breath or a snort. “What do you want me to say? I’ll help you with your game when I get back if that’s what you want. But I already have plans tonight.”

  That wasn’t an answer. Damn. Ken was the most evasive wolf he’d ever met. Like he kept secrets within his secrets. Davis was about to say something or, hell, maybe he was going to kiss Ken again just to see what happened, but a knock pounded at the door.

  They both stared at it.

  “Is that him?” Davis growled and narrowed his eyes.

  “I told him not to pick me up, but he might’ve decided to surprise me,” Ken said and sounded doubtful, but he opened the door.

  A bear stood there, several inches taller than Davis. Broad and handsome with shoulder length hair. The bastard had the nerve to smile.

  “Your date is a bear?” Davis said and looked at Ken.

  Ken’s mouth fell open, and he shook his head. “I don’t have any idea who this is. Friend of yours?”

  The bear raised an eyebrow. “I’m Mikhail. Jin sent me to see Mr. Harrison about the seka tournament. I work with the Triad to keep Russian territory safe after Sergei died. Which is Mr. Harrison?” His accent was as thick as his build.

  Davis stepped forward and loosened his balled fists. “Call me Davis. Nice to meet you, Mikhail. That’s my mate, Ken, but he’s busy tonight so we should probably do this someplace else. Got any ideas?”

  Mikhail nodded at Ken. “I already wanted to show you my club. We can talk there and play seka with friends.”

  “Perfect!” Davis said and patted Ken’s shoulder. Then he realized if they were mates that wasn’t how they’d say goodbye. Hopefully, Mikhail didn’t think anything about the date comment.

  Ken stared at him, meeting his eyes for the first time all week, as Davis leaned in. Their lips met quickly. Softly. He wanted to kiss Ken harder than that and do more than just slip his tongue against Ken’s lightly. It tasted like toothpaste.

  “I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up, love,” Davis said.

  “Oh, I won’t. The same goes for you,” Ken grumbled.

  He had a feeling those words were meant to hurt. They did. Hit him in the back like a knife, a knife he deserved, but it sliced him open all the same.

  Davis shook the sensation off and pulled on his jacket as he followed Mikhail out into the cold. Did he want Ken to fuck around with Sam whatever he was? No. But it wasn’t really his business to say otherwise.

  They were friends.

  Confusing friends.

  A friend who made Davis question things he’d held to be truths his whole life and thinking about that led to trouble. If he wanted to clean up his act he needed to do it one thing at a time. Acting like a jealous alpha would just push Ken farther away, and it already felt like they weren’t even in the same country anymore. Maybe not even on the same continent.

  He smiled and followed Mikhail to his car, a black SUV that screamed mobster, and climbed inside. Thankfully, Mikhail wasn’t predisposed to small talk while they drove to the waterfront district, right off the Flats. The area was mostly warehouses, strip clubs and seedy bars.

  “You know how to play seka?” Mikhail asked when they got there.

  A bass beat thumped from the aluminum walls of the strip club all the way into the parking lot. It vibrated under his feet and through his boots. It didn’t sound like anything Davis considered music in the least.

  He shrugged. “I’ve tried my hand at it. I’m okay.”

  So far. But he needed to get better. If Ken would practice with him maybe. . .

  “I’ll get you into the games, but you have to win. If you cheat, I can’t promise you won’t die,” Mikhail said and laughed.

  Davis smiled. The prospect of his death didn’t amuse him, but he wasn’t going to cry about it. Someone must’ve told this bear his weakness.

  Winning at any cost, even if it was a stupid move.

  Also, when he cheated it made things more difficult than they needed to be.

  Not because he liked the drama – fuck no. But the rush that went with it, yeah, that was worth it. Hell, his fingers itched with the prospect of a game on the horizon.

  “If I cheat tonight would you kill me?” Davis asked.

  Mikhail shrugged. “Jin says not to kill you if you behave. I don’t want to get on the bad side of a dragon who brings Haven peace, but my friends might punch your face in. We’ll see. Maybe don’t cheat. That’s a good idea.” Then the bear slapped him on the back, and Davis stopped himself from stumbling forward. Mikhail didn’t know his own strength, or he did that on purpose.

  Davis nodded and hoped he could resist the urge.

  When they
stepped inside the club, the wailing techno beat was the first thing that struck him. The reek of vodka was a close second, the astringent smell burned under the bear musk and scent of human sweat.

  If the music were better, he might’ve been interested in a dance or a drink. As it was, the only thing he could think about as Mikhail guided him through the pile of throbbing bodies, was Ken and that look on his face as Davis left.

  That frown.

  His gray-blue eyes pinched.

  Ken said he wanted to help with the actual job, but this wasn’t the job. It was a precursor to the job. Plus, Ken had a date. And that simple little fact shouldn’t have folded Davis’s guts into something that felt like an origami swan, but it did.

  What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Ken wasn’t anything but his friend. His best friend. The last person (and only man) Davis got off with.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to think of anything else. Maybe the scantily clad women wobbling on their towering heels. Tits nearly popping out of their dresses – not bad – but. . . . But his mind wandered back to Ken in that gray turtleneck and what was underneath. Ken’s chest. Those nipples. He moaned when Davis touched him. Damn. His reactions were like some kind of drug. Maybe better than winning any kind of game. Any amount of money.

  But did that make him gay or bi? Bi-curious? Had he been this way his whole life and never admitted it to himself until now?

  He’d had sex with women just fine, but he never felt much besides the pleasure. Hell, he’d never been in love with anyone. Not the romantic flowers and candy kind of love. The sickeningly sweet love that made people feel like they were walking on air.

  Sure, he thought about Ken a lot.

  He kept that prom picture. He even asked Ken to go stag with him because – shit, he couldn’t remember now. Probably because he knew Ken was gay and didn’t want to bring a girl. Also, it just sounded more fun to go with Ken. Because Ken made him happy, unless Ken was mad at him, in which case Davis felt like shit and wanted to fix it.

  Was he in love with Ken?