by Zoe Perdita
Tyler’s blood scorched his veins as his mouth dried out. He bit his tongue ring and lunged forward. His hands snagged Quinn’s wrists and pinned them to the wall while his body pressed flush into Quinn’s heaving chest.
The light tickle of hair brushed his bare flesh – something Tyler wasn’t used to at all, but that didn’t stop him. It was Quinn’s body that rubbed against his, and his chest felt close to bursting with that contact.
And Quinn’s mouth needed to be against his again. The alpha howled under his skin; it was trying to break free and take control of the situation. Tyler shoved it down – or maybe he just used its strength as their lips collided a second time.
Strange, as his alpha side never came out at moments like this, but with Quinn it was always so close to the surface. Pacing and howling and biding its time until he could pounce.
He growled and nipped, his skin tingling with an unbridled energy as Quinn writhed against him. Tyler’s fingers released their grip on Quinn’s wrists and found purchase in his hair. The silky strands slipped between them as the impossible heat of Quinn’s tongue danced with his.
Sure, Tyler had screwed around with plenty of girls in the past, but it never felt like this – as if his chest couldn’t contain the throbbing in his heart, and his body couldn’t stop moving – though in reality he had no fucking clue what he was doing.
He got the logistics of gay sex, but he’d never initiated it.
Tyler groaned as Quinn’s hands worked at his jeans and boxers, shoving the material off his hips.
Quinn pushed them down and Tyler kicked them off with his shoes. Then those slender fingers slipped over Tyler’s shaft and jerked it so gently it felt like a motherfucking feather against his flesh.
“I’ve never fucked a guy before,” Tyler said as his hips rolled with Quinn’s delicate grip.
Quinn nodded, lips quirked. “We can take it slow.”
“I don’t want to take it slow,” Tyler growled and nipped at Quinn’s exposed neck.
The skin was tinged with sweat, but it tasted as sweet as it smelled – like mint and lilac and magic – and it was more than just familiar. A primal need rose from his gut to his chest and enveloped him. “I want to claim you. I want you to belong to me and not that fucking mage.”
Quinn yelped as Tyler’s teeth sunk deep enough that the hint of blood touched his tongue.
Then Tyler’s fingers wound around Quinn’s iron-clad cock and squeezed. It felt hotter than his own and throbbed under his palm.
Quinn’s breath hitched. “Put them together,” he said as his fingers danced over Tyler’s sensitive head.
Tyler nodded and dug his free hand into Quinn’s hip while he pressed their cocks against each other. The combination of heat and hardness sent a blur of pleasure to his brain that settled in his bones.
Then, like a motherfucking genius, Quinn wrapped their hands around the joined shafts and slid them up and down while his hips bucked gently.
Tyler growled and slammed his mouth into Quinn’s.
He couldn’t focus on one sensation. They all combined to overwhelm him.
Drown him.
The friction of his cock sliding against Quinn’s – the hand interlocked with his – the lips that gave into him like that is all they wanted in the world.
The alpha took over, and Tyler no longer cared what it did as long as he got off.
All that mattered was the building passion in his balls and the sounds that Quinn made – how sinfully erotic he was – a star about to go supernova.
The goddamn sun was probably jealous of him.
“Harder,” Tyler rumbled and nipped at Quinn’s bottom lip.
“Mmm. Mmm,” Quinn panted and moved his hips in time with Tyler’s – their hands squeezing and pumping as they neared the peak of their pleasure.
It slammed into him all at once, the heat of his release spurting onto their hands and stomachs. The jolt shot through his body, down his thighs and rocketed up his spine.
Quinn gasped and shuddered, slumping against the wall, chest heaving.
“Fuck,” Tyler breathed and leaned his forehead against the wall next to Quinn’s head.
A feather-light kiss brushed his neck, and Quinn moved down, his tongue trailing over Tyler’s chest. He made a detour at Tyler’s nipples and pinched them briefly between his teeth – which sent a new shock of desire through the alpha.
Then Quinn got to the mess on Tyler’s stomach and ran his tongue up it. The velvety heat sizzled across Tyler’s flesh until he groaned.
“You don’t have to do that,” Tyler managed and looked at the sticky mess on his hand.
Quinn smiled up at him and grabbed his wrist. He opened his mouth – his lips pink from all that exertion – and sucked each digit inside, one at a time.
They popped out clean and slick, and Tyler’s cock twitched.
“I want to do it,” Quinn purred and swiped his tongue over his lips.
The bite mark on his neck had bruised, and the place where the fangs sunk into the skin were deep red with dried blood. Tyler frowned at it. The desire that filled him in that moment meant something – something powerful and terrifying.
“What else do you want to do?”
Quinn looked ready to answer when his gaze drifted to the quickly falling darkness outside. “A lot more if I had time,” he said ruefully and kissed Tyler’s palm before he released it.
They started to dress in silence, and the thoughts in Tyler’s head all surged into one startling fact.
The reason he reacted to Quinn differently than everyone else. Why the desire filled him, and the strange urge to protect the other shifter came over him. He told himself he wasn’t going to be like his older brother – discard the truth because it scared him.
But this truth—shit.
No wonder Davis ran.
Still, Tyler wasn’t going to be Davis.
He took a deep breath and fished his jeans off the floor. “Do you believe in mates?”
Quinn’s shoulders stiffened and his brows furrowed. His pale wavy hair looked like a halo around his face with the dim glow of street lamps lighting it up from behind. “I believe in the concept. The moon told me about it, but – I don’t know. It sounds strange. Staying with one person forever. What if they die or you find out something terrible about them? Something that makes you not want to be mates anymore, but then you’re stuck with them because of that.”
Tyler’s mouth dried out. He stared at the checkered linoleum floor.
Something terrible, huh?
Like the thing he’d kept secret from Quinn because telling people was just like pulling out his own claws. People judged. Even someone who’d been locked away from the rest of the world wasn’t above that.
He was an addict, and relapses happened. He could get high again and drag Quinn into that world with him, which someone like Quinn never deserved.
Tyler’s heart twisted in his chest, as if the damn thing was trying to wring out all the blood and leave him a hollow shell.
Not only that, but Quinn just said he talked to the moon. Maybe he was crazier than Tyler thought – really crazy – but then who knew how Quinn’s magic worked?
“Yeah. For someone who’s been confined for so long you know how to fuck,” Tyler said in an effort to change the subject.
Quinn yanked on his pants and grinned. “I’ve seen plenty of porn, and I’ve had lovers.”
“Montgomery lets you have lovers?”
“Occasionally. Dick was the last one. I think Bradley thought I wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t mind,” Quinn said with a shrug.
Tyler stopped in the midst of zipping up his jeans and stared at Quinn’s back. “Dick Hayward?”
Quinn nodded and pulled his shirt over his head. His hair fell in mussed waves around his face. “Do you know him?”
“No, but – never mind. It’s not important. You’re really fucking late, by the way.”
“I know,” Quinn said and slipped
on his own jeans and shoes with that perfectly sunny smile that felt more like a stab right to Tyler’s gut.
“Then hurry the fuck up, I don’t have all day,” Tyler grumbled and crossed his arms.
He was usually the one who walked away from people who were trying to get close to him. He was the one who put up boundaries and fences and told himself mates were for shifters who couldn’t deal with life on their own, but now it seemed like that was all bullshit.
Because Quinn was different – better – and flaky as all fuck – and a guy.
Whatever this was between them didn’t mean much to Quinn. It shouldn’t mean much to Tyler, but his hands trembled as he tugged his discarded shirt over his head, and his chest throbbed.
Cracked.
The alpha rose up – telling him all sorts of possessive shit that Quinn wouldn’t like considering his past and present.
That didn’t make the desire go away, however, and it didn’t mean Tyler couldn’t use it to his advantage. Take the pleasure as it came and pretend that it wouldn’t hurt when he set Quinn free.
Who the hell did Tyler think he was to tie someone like Quinn down?
9
Quinn hadn’t lied. He couldn't lie – the magical rules that governed his kind forced him to always tell the truth. Whether others believed it was the truth or not was irrelevant, which came in handy with Bradley often enough.
However, that didn’t mean Quinn had to tell the whole truth at all times. He could slither out of it with some long winded answer, but that wasn’t what he did when he told Tyler what he thought about mates.
Quinn was talking about himself – the side Tyler only glimpsed from time to time and never really understood. The side he’d have to face every month if they were mates because the moon would force them to shift, and Tyler– well, he probably wouldn’t like it.
And that was on the optimistic side.
Like everyone else who faced him in that form, Tyler would grow to despise him. That’s the last thing Quinn wanted.
Sure, he was amazing to behold, like a creature created out of dreams and moonlight, but beneath the glossy surface was the darkness Quinn himself didn’t like to face – the thoughts that crowded his mind when the moon showed him the truth of the world. Shadow folk and hunters both persecuted his kind, and it wasn’t out of some misplaced fear.
Their fear was very rightfully placed.
If Tyler knew that, he wouldn’t want to help. He’d probably be as disgusted with Quinn as the Montgomery family was—like his very presence defiled things instead of showing them as they were.
Still, Quinn didn’t expect Tyler to sulk on the walk back to the community center because of his answer. He also hadn’t expected the bite on his collarbone to sting so badly.
Quinn touched it once and looked at the flakes of dried blood that came off on his fingers – like bits of rust. Hopefully, he’d be able to hide it before Bradley got a good look.
His chest clenched as he looked at Tyler. That alpha didn’t deserve a mate like Quinn—one who tricked him into a bargain for his own selfish gain. He needed someone better, yet the thought of Tyler with someone else sent a cold stab to Quinn’s heart.
When they got to the community center, Merci was waiting in the car and honked as he approached.
Tyler put up his hand in the weakest attempt at a goodbye ever. He hadn’t touched Quinn the entire walk back, and a chill settled on Quinn’s skin and sunk into his bones.
He’d probably done something wrong without realizing it. Isolated himself again because of whatever it was that made him like that. Still, he smiled and kissed Tyler gently on the cheek to hide it.
“See you next week.”
Tyler grabbed his hand. “I’ll see you after the full moon.”
Honk. Honk.
Merci leaned on the horn and yelled obscenities from the driver’s seat while he climbed into the backseat and stared at the wolf, his brown and blue hair surrounded in yellow light from the street lamps.
“Do you know how late you are? We have to go straight to Mr. Montgomery’s office, and he’s going to wonder why you’re here,” she snarled. “Seriously, do you think of anyone but yourself?”
Quinn frowned and watched Tyler fade into the distance. “Not usually.”
Merci continued to rant as she sped away, and it all dissolved into background noise while Quinn watched the golden light dance across the river and sparkle in the skyscrapers that towered above downtown.
She lied easily about Quinn’s meeting running long.
Bradley frowned but didn’t ask any questions about it. Since Quinn’s magic prospered with his newfound slice of freedom, he hadn’t had many complaints about the twice weekly meetings. If he knew the real truth, Quinn doubted that would continue.
Bradley might want his magic, but he also didn’t want Quinn to be happy.
That also meant Bradley delighted in the ritual that happened every full moon. The walk into the woods. The chains. Quinn alone for a day and night beside his round pool of water with nothing but the moon for company.
Tyler didn’t show up and spoil everything, and a wave of relief rushed over Quinn. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved for his sake or Tyler’s. And that dim sensation of loneliness expanded with every minute until it was nearly unbearable.
He didn’t ask the moon what it was because he already knew the answer. He couldn’t even lie to himself, and that made it all worse.
But when they finally reunited on Thursday, the words clogged in Quinn’s throat and he swallowed them down. If Tyler survived the mirror, he’d tell the alpha how he felt. Before that, there wasn’t much point.
While they started out at Tyler’s tattoo parlor (the alpha had done some work and checked on Quinn’s tattoo with his rough fingers playing delicate), they took a break by walking down to a park by the river.
It was near the community center, and Tyler said that part of town was called the Flats (for reasons he didn’t explain—it wasn’t entirely flat). They had the place to themselves, and even with trash littering the shore and the grass, it was still better than being stuck in his prison all day.
The sun was actually out, and a breeze blew most of the stink of the water in another direction. Quinn stared at the muddy surface and wondered what was underneath. It was nothing like his water—clean and pure. Well, the water belonged to the pool and the stream, but he always thought of it as his since nothing else in the world really was.
Perhaps Tyler could be his—if they were mates then. . . .
He’d glanced at the alpha.
In the sunlight, Tyler squinted. His exposed skin golden tan under the mass of tattoos, and the longer wisps of his hair mussed by the wind. One hand was shoved into his pocket, and he leaned against a cement outcropping as he sucked on a cigarette. The smell of burning tobacco wasn’t as unpleasant as Quinn thought when they first met. Either he’d gotten used to it, or it suited Tyler.
Then, like a sudden stab to the gut, Quinn remembered that Tyler couldn’t be his in the end. If the bargain was fulfilled, anything might happen which was up to Tyler and not Quinn, so getting involved like this was the very worst idea imaginable.
Yet here he was, and the thought of giving up these bi-weekly visits sounded almost worse than being under Montgomery’s thumb for the rest of his life. Which was so stupid Quinn let out a bark of laughter.
That got Tyler’s attention. He raised an eyebrow—they were curved like the ears of a cat, and they always made him look just a little bit sarcastic even when he wasn’t. He didn’t ask what was so funny. Instead, he put out his cigarette and frowned.
A moment later, Quinn realized what Tyler was frowning at.
The overwhelming scent of silver stung his nose and the steady sound of footsteps stomped closer.
He turned around.
Tyler stood up straight. “Stay behind me and get ready to run,” he said, his voice a low grumble.
Three men walked t
hrough the trees that blocked the shore from the rest of the park. The area was secluded, for the most part, since there was nothing but warehouses and a storm drain on the other side of the river—which was at least a few hundred feet away.
The men were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, though they all wore jackets that were too heavy for such nice spring weather. Besides that, there was nothing distinguishable about them. Two of them had shaved heads and the third had short spiked brown hair. They were all young—younger than Quinn, at least, and their faces were the type that got lost in the crowd, bland but for the cruelty around their eyes.
They didn’t smell as bad as Bradley, though the vague hint of death surrounded them. The burning stench of silver was stronger, and Quinn narrowed his eyes.
Were these the hunters Merci warned him about? While most humans didn’t know about the shadow world around them, a few did. Many of those were the hunters who sought out and killed shadow folk, usually shifters but magic users could get caught in their sights as well.
But Merci also said Quinn probably wouldn’t have a problem, considering he was protected. She didn’t know the real reason Bradley kept Quinn, obviously, but that was almost too much. Protected? Quinn would rather face all the hunters in the world than stay under the Montgomery family’s protection a moment longer.
“Do you know them?” Quinn asked as he leaned close behind Tyler.
The wolf did say to stay behind him, and Quinn did. The urge to wrap his arms around Tyler’s waist overwhelmed him, and he did that too, his fingers creeping over Tyler’s shirt.
Tyler’s stomach tensed under his touch. “Not really, but I’ve seen them before.”
The men glanced at them and sneered. They muttered ugly things under their breath—things Quinn had heard plenty from Montgomery senior when the man learned that Quinn’s desires turned toward men. Even one of his lovers used language like that, and that bothered Quinn more than he let on. However, back talking an enchanter was one way to get your lips glued shut for the night, he’d learned.
But, no matter what they said, the men didn’t do anything outwardly aggressive. After a tense staring contest, they looked away, and Tyler moved.