“Got it,” Markus replied. He set his hands down on either side of the mattress, as if he was about to stand. Bracing himself against his chair, Destiny prepared to stand up if the other wolf needed a hand. “How should we stay in touch? I’m not sure how often I should come back here. Your wolves will start talking.”
Yes, they will. Damn right.
“And you can’t come to my side. Brock would skin you alive and mount your pelt on the wall.”
“You can call me. Or text. We can set up meetings if either of us finds anything. Let me get my number for you.”
“Wait.” Markus held up one hand. “Is it still the same as it used to be?”
“Yes.”
Some color finally returned to Markus’ face, this time in the form of a blush. “Then, I’ve still got it. I should probably get going. I need to think of some excuse for Brock about where I’ve been. If he even notices I’ve been gone.”
Pressing his hands down against the mattress, Markus slid forward and put his feet on the ground. He hesitated for a moment and then stood, wobbling. Destiny started to rise, only to be waved away. Though it went against his better nature, he sat back down and just watched Markus toddle over to the bedroom door.
The omega opened it and stepped through, pausing just before his shoulders passed all the way through. “See you around, Dusty.” Then, he was gone.
Destiny looked at the crack in the doorway, where Markus hadn’t shut it all the way, and wondered if that opening might hint at the future. Something would be coming in through the gap. Whether it would be good or bad, there was no way of knowing.
6
About a week passed without incident, though there was still plenty to keep Destiny occupied. Tensions amongst his own pack members were higher than ever, fights breaking out constantly, always between the same people. He struggled to keep order there and everywhere else, though it seemed like his efforts were useless.
Three wolves left the pack, one after the other. They didn’t want to deal with the danger.
Destiny let them go with well-wishes, and then he went into his office, shut the door, and grieved. He didn’t cry so much as he shed tears, letting them roll slowly down his face and drip off his chin into his lap. Things were unraveling at the edges. Soon, everything he had worked so hard to create and keep patched together would come completely apart. He would be like a man who once wore a sweater to keep himself warm, and who was now trying to pretend a handful of yarn could have the same effect.
Part of him wondered, treacherously, secretively, if this might not be for the best. A person couldn’t be a biker forever. It was just a stage of life, same as infancy and adolescence. A few hardcore bikers might stick around until they were well into the hip-breaking age, but the rest of them would all go their own ways sooner or later. New members would filter in to replace those who had been lost, but it wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t be united like the current members were. They wouldn’t have gone through hell and back together, first weathering the storm of separation, then outlasting all the other disasters which came their way.
Nothing was irreplaceable. Not even himself. Someone would come along and replace him.
Maybe it would be better to have all of this done as the result of this catalyst of a scenario, rather than to drag it out for possible decades.
He didn’t let these thoughts be known, not to anyone who asked him if he felt all right and if he had been sleeping well.
He didn’t share these doubts with Cain. He knew he probably should have, but Cain had taken Ralphie home and the two of them were enjoying a brief reprieve, focusing on nothing but themselves and little Knox.
He didn’t even tell Markus.
Their communication ever since the day Markus came to see him had been sparse and polite, though occasionally terse, and always punctuated by enormous gaps of silence. Brock was acting like a dictator, spending much of his time sequestered away in his bedroom, plotting and scheming and planning for the war he had declared. His presence meant Markus needed to be careful when talking to Destiny.
Meanwhile, other wolves constantly came into the house to see him, reporting on what they had seen during their rides, what they had overheard in passing.
“It’s like Hitler Youth over here,” Markus texted one day. “Everyone’s selling out everyone else. Trying to be the one who’s the most on his good side.”
Markus himself wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unless Brock accompanied him, due to his concussion and potential lasting side effects from the injury. All that really meant was Markus hadn’t left his house in a week.
“I’m starting to go crazy in here.”
One week turned slowly over into the next, bringing with it yet another day of worried texts briefly and intermittently sprinkled with complaints.
That was when Destiny decided he’d had enough. He, too, felt stifled and caged, an animal trapped behind bars. His daily duties often tapered off into listless bouts of nothingness where he sat around and essentially waited, counting the seconds, the hours, exactly like a zoo animal with only scheduled meals to look forward to.
He needed some release, some relief, a moment where he was allowed to feel like himself again.
At exactly one in the morning on the Sunday of the new week, Destiny grabbed up his helmet—which he had taken to wearing more frequently ever since Markus’ accident—and went outside to where his motorcycle awaited him. Swinging his leg up over it, he jammed the key in the ignition and tore off down the street.
Crossing over the border between the east and west ends of the city was like riding into a solid wall of scent. The powerful odor nearly knocked him off his goddamn bike. Reports from his own wolves had informed him that the members of Lethal Freedom were doing constant patrols. His perception of this news was that there had been frequent sightings, but this was something altogether. The scent was almost so strong a human would have been able to pick up on it.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t smelled any. No tourists dithering around. No homeless.
Even if they couldn’t pick up on the scent, surely they would have noticed dangerous bikers flocking to this area like vultures circling over rotting carrion. Best for the uninvolved to stay uninvolved.
Destiny knew exactly where Markus lived. He knew the ins and outs of the city itself, as thoroughly as he knew the back of his own hand. Navigating his way there was no problem at all, and he enjoyed the ride, all alone with only the passing streetlights to keep him company.
Once he entered into the neighborhood where Markus lived, he slowed way down until the roaring of his engine was as quiet as a kitten’s purring. For only a brief instant, he wished his bike wasn’t so crazily modified. Then, he pushed that wish away. The sound of a motorcycle wasn’t exactly such a unique thing that it would get Brock’s attention, if he even heard it.
Maybe Brock wasn’t even home, although Destiny knew much better than to even hope for that. He wouldn’t push his luck betting on things.
Lowering his head, hiding his face beneath the shadow cast by his helmet, Destiny rode through the streets at a snail’s pace. His motorcycle jittered and jumped beneath him, not handling this speed well at all; he just gripped on tighter with his thighs and kept going until he finally caught a glimpse of a tiny house in the distance.
Then, he stopped. He turned off the engine and pulled out his phone, the screen glowing beacon-bright in the darkness of the early morning.
Sliding his thumb across the screen to unlock it, he then went to his texts and pulled up a prior conversation with Markus. His fingers hesitated, his grip on the phone suddenly going clammy and slick.
It’s now or never. No in-betweens. No hesitating. I do this, or I go home.
He still hesitated, and then he closed his eyes because he knew he was going to go home.
Hell, what was he even doing out here? He didn’t belong here and not just because he was a Shadow Claw. He didn’t belong in this pretty little nei
ghborhood, lined with tiny homes meant for people who were just beginning to get their lives together. He’d had his chance at that and completely fucked it up by being incapable to hold onto the person who was nearest and dearest to his heart.
Hell, the person who was his heart.
He didn’t belong here because his current connection with Markus was only based on mutual need for survival. It was practically business.
All at once, he doubted himself and everything he had ever done. The weight of his regret was so enormous and cumbersome that he felt it pressing down on him, threatening to crush him, smear him and his motorcycle across the street in a mixture of bloody paste and machine parts.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” he whispered into the night.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Destiny fell off his motorcycle, clamping at his heart with one hand while the other uselessly tried to prevent him from hitting the ground. He wasn’t successful in either venture, didn’t calm his heart, didn’t catch himself, and he landed on the ground with his chest heaving and his insides jittering around.
It was difficult to hear anything outside of the pounding of his heart, the rushing of blood in his ears, but there was no way that he could have mistaken the quiet laughter following his collapse.
It was the chuckling which made him move, inspiring him to prop himself up on his hands so he could see.
Markus stood perhaps 15 feet away, having just emerged from a thick patch of shadows beneath the boughs of a tree in desperate need of trimming. He was smiling, grinning softly with familiar amusement. Even illuminated by the harsh sodium glow of the nearby streetlight, he was handsome as hell.
“Guess I didn’t notice you were there,” Destiny said. The words felt strange in his mouth, now that he’d started to doubt his own plans. He’d had this entire meeting planned out, and now it was happening in ways he hadn’t accounted for.
“Guess not,” Markus agreed.
That, at least, was something Destiny could forgive himself for. The air was thick with the scents of gasoline and exhaust and hot metal, the distinctive and cloying perfume his motorcycle exuded when in use. He couldn’t smell much of anything else, and he hadn’t been expecting to see Markus yet, or anyone else at all, so he hadn’t been looking in the shadows.
Standing up, Destiny took a step towards Markus and then stopped. “I was…Coming to see you.”
“Why?”
“Probably the same reason that you were already out here waiting for me.”
Markus looked thoughtful, his smoky eyes going hazy with concentration. “I just felt like I needed to go for a walk. Like I had to get out of the house. Brock was asleep, so it was easy.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shuffled his feet. “I thought I was just feeling antsy from being cooped up inside.”
Neither of them said aloud what this might mean. Destiny had been coming to see Markus, and Markus had come out here as if compelled to. There was really no pretending this was a coincidence, because the reality was that their thoughts must have crossed somehow.
“That’s why I was coming here. I thought you might like to…get out. And I could help.” Destiny held up his phone, which miraculously hadn’t broken when he took a tumble. “I was going to text you where I was.”
“Well, I’m here.” Markus planted his hands on his hips, a saucy sort of posture that gave Destiny more hope than it probably should have. The omega standing before him was less of an exhausted victim and more like his true self. “What did you want to do with me when you got here?”
“I really hadn’t thought that through, honestly.” Destiny blushed. Curls of warmth rose up inside his stomach, like the first tentative signs of a fire. “I just knew that I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind leaving the neighborhood. I can go anywhere, just as long as I’m back home before dawn. That’s been when Brock has been getting up to start his daily tyranny.”
Home before dawn gave them four or five hours of time together. That was much, much more than Destiny had been hoping for. He had envisioned a short ride, perhaps to the nearby park and then back. But Markus had given him the possibility of hours if that was what he wanted.
And was it?
He thought so.
“Is your head okay enough for a ride? I’ll go slow. And I have an extra helmet, if you want it.” He had put that on his bike several days ago, refusing to think about it at the time. However, if he thought about it now, he would be forced to admit to himself that he had been expecting this meeting to happen eventually. The universe seemed to be clamoring for this, God knew why.
“I’m healing up pretty good on the outside. I’m not sure about on the inside and neither are the doctors. They hardly understand how the rest of us works. Our brains are a complete mystery.”
“Your brain is a mystery to me, too.”
“I could say the same about you.” Markus approached, setting his hand on Destiny’s power cruiser. That touch resonated deeply through Destiny’s soul, as if he was the one feeling the intimate pressure of those fingers. Then Markus lifted up his hand and grabbed at the extra helmet, breaking the illusion with the sharp suddenness of shattering glass. “Let’s do this.”
Mounting his bike, Destiny waited for Markus to climb up behind him. Every muscle inside him had gone tense with anticipation, his body remembering exactly what it was like to feel the pressure of the smaller man at his back. It was so, so familiar, like only a day had gone by since the last time they did this. The warmth of Markus’ body, the feel of his thighs, the way his arms wrapped around his stomach and held on tightly…
It was almost too much.
He almost called it all off, right then and there. They shouldn’t be doing this, tempting fate like this. They didn’t belong together anymore, were in fact on opposite sides.
Yet, with Markus’ legs around him, their bodies so close, it just didn’t feel wrong.
“What are you waiting for?” Markus asked. His breath was so hot it practically burned where it hit against the back of Destiny’s neck.
Something else was burning, the fire inside his stomach no longer tentative and new but a heady blaze which threatened to consume everything in its path. His groin felt tense and full and tingly, his manhood stirring around in response.
Fumbling with the key, Destiny managed to turn the engine on. His cruiser snarled to life before diminishing into a steady, anticipatory growling. Adjusting his position on the seat, wishing he could perform a similar service for his cock since it was jammed uncomfortably against his jeans, he turned them around and rode away from the neighborhood.
For a time, they ceased to exist. They were not Destiny, chronic overthinker and leader of Shadow Claws, and Markus, the younger brother of the alpha who ruled over Lethal Freedom. They weren’t wolves. They weren’t men. They just were, existing in tandem with the cityscape around them.
They cruised at a moderate and comfortable speed through the streets, heading simply where the patterns of the night led them. They passed through the business district, where most of Pensacola’s tallest buildings were located, and they sailed through the areas designed for the tourists. They went through the silent, downtrodden ghettos, skirted the edges of several beautiful parks whose gates were all closed to keep out the beggars.
They rode and could have ridden for an eternity in this manner, or at the very least until their gas ran out. There were no thoughts, no feelings, no worries, no hopes.There was only the silent, calm city.
Then Destiny felt a tug on his elbow, yanking him out of the dreamlike stupor and back into reality. He slowed automatically, turning his head slightly so Markus would know that he was listening.
Rather than speak, Markus pointed off to their left. In that direction was Sanders Beach, which pressed right up against the Gulf of Mexico. It was one of the few beach locations in Pensacola which wasn’t difficult to get to, considering it was actually on the mainl
and and not part of a barrier island or anything.
It also wasn’t guarded, open to the public for very long hours every single day. One a.m. fell just outside of those hours, but that really wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
Destiny turned at the next streetlight and followed a sign to reach the parking lot, where he was able to pull right up to the very beginning edge of the beach. He turned the engine off and waited. No explanation for this detour came immediately, so he prompted Markus with a gentle, “Well?”
Markus slid off the motorcycle, the lack of his presence making Destiny feel like he’d just had a limb amputated. “I want to walk on the beach. It’s so rare that you get one all to yourself.”
Well, we won’t exactly be completely alone.
There were other vehicles in the parking lot, though only a few. Out on the glistening white beach, the dark, silhouetted forms of other people were clearly visible.
“Yeah, but look at them. They’re all couples. They won’t care about us, so it’ll be like they aren’t there at all.”
That, Destiny noticed, was true. The people out walking along the beach were clearly in pairs, holding hands and walking so close together that their hips constantly touched. All of them were spaced out, perhaps not so much as to provide privacy for others as to obtain it for themselves.
Destiny also noted that Markus had replied to something that he hadn’t said aloud. Or, had he? Nothing felt quite real in this moment, so maybe he just spoke without even meaning to.
“Then, let’s go.”
Needing no further prompting, Markus set off across the last strip of concrete separating him from the sands of the beach. He spread his arms out slightly as he went from the solid surface to the trickier plane of the sand; the fraction of a second of lost balance was the only sign he still suffered from the concussion.
The only meaningful sign, that was.
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