by Zoe Perdita
“Merci thinks you’re my boyfriend.”
Tyler started and put out his cigarette. “After one blowjob? I think we’d have to fuck if we were boyfriends.”
“That can be arranged,” Quinn said and smirked.
Tyler raised an eyebrow, pushed himself off the wall and started walking like he knew Quinn would follow.
Quinn did. “Where are we going today?”
“My place – well, my shop. I can’t keep closing it in the middle of the day for three hours since it’s hurting my business and shit. I thought I could work during my normal meetings instead, but Cage got pissed so. . . .” Tyler’s voice trailed off into nothing, and he kicked a rock across the parking lot.
Quinn let out an internal sigh. “I don’t mind watching you work. Can I get a tattoo?”
“Can you pay for it?” Tyler asked.
“Maybe,” Quinn said and nudged Tyler’s shoulder. “But not with actual money.”
Tyler’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, and that was good enough for Quinn.
8
Tyler had missed too many NA meetings for his sponsor not to notice. Since he was going out with Quinn twice a week, he used that time to work, but it sure as fuck caught up to him.
Cage called him early on Wednesday morning.
He didn’t get the chance to speak when Tyler answered the phone. “I’m going to the meeting now.”
“I shouldn’t have to call about this,” Cage said, his voice low.
Tyler owed Cage, but putting up with him first thing in the morning sucked. “Yeah. I know. See you there, if you can make it.”
They only talked briefly before the meeting started, and Tyler avoided mentioning Quinn while Cage admonished him with that look of supreme disappointment on his face. Tyler agreed not to miss another meeting, which meant he had to figure out a way to work with Quinn around, if that were possible.
His very presence riled up the alpha inside Tyler whenever he was near.
But finding a goddamn way to free Quinn was more important than anything, and Tyler was doing a royally shitty job of it. Now he had Cage on his ass too.
Fun? Not in the least.
He’d scoped out the Montgomery house on two different occasions, but he didn’t try to enter it or stick around very long. Who knew what weird ass magic Bradley was capable of?
Tyler even used his very limited resources to learn how to break the spell—find the weakness and all that bullshit. But it turns out in order to figure out how to break something, you need to know what it is first.
That meant figuring out who cast the spell and what kind of magic they used. From what he’d learned from asking Rory, it probably wasn’t a light mage.
Plus, time was running out. Almost a whole month went by, yet he’d come up with nothing. Well, nothing but this weird buzz on his skin whenever he thought of Quinn. Or the sensation he got that the days dragged by in a dull monotony until Monday or Thursday afternoon, and Quinn grinned at him like he was actually glad Tyler was around. Not like he was afraid Tyler was going to fuck up again.
And if he let Quinn down just like he’d let everyone else down—shit.
Only one more lunar cycle left to prove he could do something right.
Something good.
That meant he only had half the time left to figure this out. Yet what really twisted his guts into a bunch of impossible knots wasn’t what might happen to him if he failed; but what might happen to Quinn.
Tyler hadn’t spent that much time with anyone on his own volition in a long time. And when he had they’d been fellow junkies, so it wasn’t like they hung out because they liked each other.
Even if Tyler tried to deny it to himself late at night when he was in bed staring at the ceiling and hoping Quinn wasn’t in unspeakable pain, he couldn’t.
He fucking liked Quinn.
Maybe more than liked him, and that should be a bigger problem than it was.
The best part of Tyler’s week turned into those three hour dates that consisted of showing Quinn what he’d been missing all his life. Not taking Quinn back to his apartment and fucking around with him was a test of greater resolve than Tyler realized he had.
In typical Quinn fashion, he grinned that charmingly sunny grin and made suggestive comments all while touching Tyler every chance he got. Now that raccoon shifter thought they were boyfriends, and Tyler didn’t even want to deny it.
Fuck, he’d been out with Quinn more than anyone else. Besides the utter lack of sex, they were practically dating.
He should’ve been having some kind of a mental freak out session since Quinn was a very definite man, and Tyler always considered himself straight (for the most part), yet the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
And the more time he spent with Quinn, the less time he spent thinking about getting laid on the weekend – unless, of course, that somehow included Quinn too.
So as they walked to Got Ink? on that sunny afternoon, Tyler reached over and wrapped his fingers in Quinn’s. He got a sweet smile in return, and Quinn’s palm pressed into his while those tapered fingers squeezed.
That got across what he wanted to say without the actual words fucking everything up.
When they arrived, Tyler opened up the shop and pointed at a place for Quinn to sit.
Of course, he didn’t stay there longer than a minute or two. He got up and wandered around looking at the pictures of former client’s tattoos, and the new art Tyler had created for future tattoos, while Tyler got his needles and ink ready for the next client.
The shop was bigger than his last one, with an actual reception desk and several chairs, but Tyler hadn’t bothered trying to hire anyone else yet. He could keep track of his own appointments. He’d done it for years, and paying an employee for something so simple seemed like a huge waste of money he didn’t have.
His next appointment came in early – Mei – the mute tiger who came from the Triad’s headquarters.
She tapped on her smartphone and held out the message to him. Will you finish the coloring today?
“I’ve got all afternoon,” Tyler said and shut the privacy curtain so she could take off her shirt.
She was smaller than most tiger shifters, but she handled the needle better than the ones Tyler had worked on so far. She hardly flinched when it poked into her flesh, and it made keeping his hands steady a hell of a lot easier. Plus, she didn’t talk so he could concentrate without having to make mindless conversation.
She sprawled on his table, the fanciful inked tiger on full display. When Mei first showed up, the tiger was half-finished and she didn’t like what the other guy had done. It took a week of sketches and texting back and forth for Mei to be happy with his plans, but Tyler wasn’t going to complain about it. She had to live with it for the rest of her life – not him.
In the last few months, he’d almost completely filled it in with bright colors, and they’d healed well. Now, he only had to put on the finishing touches.
He started with the orange, and soon enough he heard Quinn’s insistent footsteps come to a halt behind him.
“Can I have one like that?” Quinn whispered after several moments of silence.
“A tiger? This is a gang tattoo, you know. So probably not,” Tyler said and wiped his brow. The scent of blood and ink filled his nose. When it was done, it’d be a goddamn work of art. “Plus, she’s a tiger.”
“Is that what all normal shifters do? Get a tattoo of their kind on their flesh?” Quinn asked and shuffled so close his breath brushed Tyler’s cheek.
Tyler inhaled deeply. Quinn’s unique scent filled his nose, and a jolt of excitement surged through him. “No. I don’t have a wolf tattoo anywhere. It’s a Triad thing, but if that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you.”
Quinn didn’t say anything more, though he watched the entire process.
After Tyler finished and Mei left, he washed his hands and glanced at Quinn. He was looking at Tyler’s sketches
again. “We’ve got an hour before that raccoon picks you up.”
“I know. What would you choose if you were me?” Quinn asked and ran his long fingers over a black and white sketch of a dead tree covered in crows.
“Not that,” Tyler said and felt his cheeks heat.
He remembered drawing that after Davis first got back to Haven. His brother interrupted him at his old place, and they got into a stupid fight. Mostly because Davis didn’t understand that simply coming back to the city wasn’t a free pass for forgiveness after all the shit he’d pulled over the years.
Quinn’s green-gold eyes caught him and held, so Tyler skimmed the walls.
He didn’t find one sketch that fit. “I don’t know. None of these suit you. I’d have to draw something new.”
“Can you?” Quinn asked and smiled, somewhere between a grin and a smirk.
Tyler nodded before he realized it, and grabbed the sketchpad from the reception desk, mostly to stop the surge of warmth that rushed to his balls at that expression. “Sure, but it might not be great. I think you need something simple. Black ink. No color. Maybe something symbolic.”
His hand moved across the blank piece of paper quickly. When he finished, Tyler frowned at his handiwork.
“Is that a broken cage?” Quinn asked. He leaned so close each beat of his heart pounded with Tyler’s, and the heat of his shoulder pressed into the alpha’s body and warmed him further – not what he needed.
“Yeah. It’s stupid though. Never mind.”
Quinn touched the sketch and shook his head. “It’s not. I—I like it. Where would you put it?”
Tyler took a sharp breath and looked at Quinn, the way his lips were always just shy of a smile and the angular cut of his jaw – the elegant strength in his neck and how his Adam’s apple begged to be touched.
Kissed.
His heart did that dumb fluttery thing. Shit.
“Uh, maybe your wrist or ankle. Bicep tats are popular,” Tyler said and touched the taut flesh on Quinn’s exposed arm. He wore a gray T-shirt today, slightly too small, but that just meant it hugged his body perfectly.
Quinn leaned forward until his lips brushed Tyler’s ear. “What about a little lower?”
Tyler blinked. “You don’t want a dick tattoo.”
Glass green eyes widened briefly, and Quinn let out a laugh that sounded like music. “People do that?”
“Sometimes,” Tyler said with a shrug and fought not to smile.
“Not there, but it needs to be someplace Bradley won’t see it by accident.”
Tyler’s fingers twitched, and no matter how many times he told himself that going past this line meant more than he wanted it to mean, he still did it.
Kissing a guy was one thing – willfully stroking his ass with the intent to get his pants off was something else.
He always thought if he were gay, he’d have figured it out by now. Hell, he’d known Ken his whole life, and that omega had always known he was gay. And he’d known Rory for the past two years, but Tyler never wanted to fuck either of them, though there was nothing wrong with them.
Sure, there was that one time a twink sucked him off behind The Pit, but Tyler was also high as fuck on ecstasy and having anyone suck him off sounded like a great idea at the time.
With Quinn it was totally different.
Now, he wasn’t drunk or high, and there wasn’t anything else in the world he wanted to do more than kiss Quinn. And, shit, he’d spent most of the last month not kissing Quinn, which now felt like the biggest waste of time in the whole world.
He let his hand move, and it grazed Quinn’s ass – the muscles tight. He stopped on Quinn’s slim hip. “How about here?”
Quinn’s body leaned into the touch, and his eyes sparked. “I like that idea.”
Tyler nodded. His mouth dried out before he could speak. He licked his lips. “Get on the table and pull down your pants.”
He’d said those words more times than he could count, but they never sounded like that– as if he wanted nothing more than those pants to come off and stay off.
It’s not like he could blame the ache in his groin on Mei either. Tyler’d worked on her and never been aroused. Shit, he worked on plenty of people without this happening.
That meant it had to be Quinn.
Several minutes later, Tyler ended up on his stool looking at the bare skin on Quinn’s delectable hip. It reminded him of how they’d first met, and what Quinn’s bare chest looked like bruised.
Those marks had healed long since.
Quinn settled on his back, the pale hair splayed around his head. He’d unbuttoned the jeans so the hint of his pubes peeked out, and it was obvious he wore no motherfucking underwear.
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “You always go commando?”
Quinn shrugged. “Bradley doesn’t buy me anything, and I’m not going to wear his.”
Tyler snorted. “Can’t blame you.” Then he took a deep breath and disinfected Quinn’s right hip, the spot just below the bone. “This’ll hurt a little.”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” Quinn said, his voice held a note of bitterness Tyler never noticed before, and it played havoc on his emerging hard-on.
Quinn’s chest heaved, and his nipples hardened into tight pink tips.
The needle made contact, but Quinn didn’t so much as move. He took another shallow breath and let it out, and it felt like they were both breathing the same air at the same time.
Tyler worked for a long time like that, neither of them speaking, and it felt as natural as it always did.
“Full moon’s coming up next Monday,” Tyler said as the final bar of the cage took shape on Quinn’s fair skin.
Quinn sighed. “I know. That means we can’t meet, doesn’t it?”
“Do you still shift at the full moon or does the necklace keep that from happening too?” Tyler asked and wiped the blood off before he continued. It was as red as anyone else’s and smelled the same, but for the hint of magic.
“I shift. They can’t prevent that. No one can,” Quinn said, and his lips twisted into a smile that didn’t look anywhere near happy.
“I’d like to see it,” Tyler admitted and pricked the needle back into Quinn’s skin.
Quinn started and shook his head. “You can’t – not yet.”
Tyler frowned and wiped off the last bit of blood before he covered his handiwork lightly with gauze. “Who says I can’t? Are you going to attack me?”
Quinn frowned. “No, but there’s a barrier around the house, and it’s the only time of month I can use all my magic. It’s not safe to see me like that until our bargain is fulfilled.”
Outside someone honked on the street, but it sounded like it was a million miles away.
Tyler removed his gloves and slid his palms tentatively up Quinn’s thigh. “Would you hurt me?”
Quinn sucked in a breath and grabbed Tyler’s bicep, pulling him closer. His eyes widened and a look of panic surrounded them. “Not on purpose.”
“Will our bargain hurt me?” Tyler couldn’t look at Quinn’s face because the reactions in his body were so incredible. Beneath the fabric of the jeans, his cock hardened just like Tyler’s own, and he’d never wanted to touch a dick so badly in his life.
“It. . . shouldn’t,” Quinn breathed, and Tyler’s hands tightened on his thighs.
“Shouldn’t or won’t?”
Quinn’s gaze dropped. “I can’t say anymore than that.”
Tyler sucked in a breath through his nose, and all he smelled was Quinn’s alluring scent.
Quinn’s gaze held his.
Then Quinn unzipped his jeans, revealing his length, thick with veins and throbbing for attention.
Tyler’s lips quirked. “There’s a window right there, and the door’s unlocked.”
“So lock it, and I’ll go behind the screen,” Quinn said and leaned forward. He almost made it off the chair when Tyler grabbed him by the chin and pulled him forward.
; Their lips met, hard and hungry, and the heat of Quinn’s mouth melted into Tyler’s own like that’s the only place it was meant to be.
Ever.
The alpha roared inside him – fingers dug into Quinn’s hips, and their teeth bumped with a gentle clack.
Tyler didn’t bother mentioning that it was past an hour by now, and Quinn was going to be late. Because Tyler wasn’t going to let him go like this – not with his body begging for something that only Quinn could give. The lust clouding his brain felt normal by now. It surrounded him whenever he thought of Quinn.
“Am I under a fucking spell?” Tyler huffed and pulled back.
Quinn’s eyes widened, the hurt evident on his downturned mouth, and he shook his head once. “No. I can’t do that to you. If that’s what you think—”
It’s not what he thought.
Dammit.
What Tyler thought might’ve been worse. The way his chest ached when Quinn wasn’t around—the desire to see him happy—set him free. Not to mention the motherfucking need that singed his goddamn hands as they slid over Quinn’s unblemished flesh.
His heart was close to bursting with all those sensations combined, and there was only one real explanation for it.
Love.
He was in love with a shifter.
A male shifter, who turned into the moon only knew what.
And it didn’t faze him in the least.
“Get behind the screen,” Tyler grumbled and stalked to the front door. He flipped the sign to ‘closed,’ turned the lock and even killed the lights just to be safe. Outside, evening fell, and the lights across the river burned golden bright.
Tyler yanked his shirt over his head and slipped behind the black sheet that separated a small section of the room from the shop at large. There wasn't much back there—just a cheap chair Tyler picked up at a thrift store and a few pegs to hang clothes.
Quinn leaned against the wall, naked with his legs parted. His fingers glided over his shaft achingly slow, as a bead of pre-cum glisten at the tip. A man jerking himself off like that shouldn’t be so fucking erotic, but it was whenever Quinn did it.