Prodigal (Outcast Sons Book 1)

by Gem Frost

  He could feel the other man relax against him, just a bit. “What’s that?”

  “That you come home with me afterwards,” Jon said.

  Chapter 8

  Jon wanted Cae so badly he was going crazy. He’d experienced an incredible climax, but somehow their bout of sex had set off another fire in his blood that he knew wouldn't go away for anything less than sex. Hard, fast, down-and-dirty sex.

  Sex with Caeden.

  Jon wanted him — the way he smelled, the way he looked, the sexy way his voice rumbled when he talked about screwing. He couldn't imagine making love to any other man again, ever. No other man could possibly be enough for him. Not now.

  Hormones, he thought vaguely. He remembered his own theory about Cae’s hormones being out of whack. Somehow, he thought, Cae had passed on the problem to him.

  Maybe it was just pheromones. Maybe if he got away from Cae, away from his intoxicating, maddening scent…

  But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave his friend behind.

  And what if the effect was permanent? Was it just a temporary phenomenon that'd vanish by the morning? Or would he long for Cae like this, seethe with lust and need every time he saw him, for the rest of his life?

  The idea of needing Cae that badly, needing him forever, made him feel painfully vulnerable, because he knew Caeden wasn’t for him. No alpha was for someone like him. The two of them couldn’t even have a furtive affair on the side. Not only was he a low-ranked omega, but he was male, and alphas were invariably heterosexual.

  He had to admit that Cae’s actions tonight had suggested he wasn’t quite as heterosexual as an alpha should be. But he suspected that had more to do with whatever physical issues Cae was suffering through than anything else. When his problem was corrected, he’d go back to normal, and he’d eventually marry a woman, a strong and powerful beta, someone worthy of the Alpha.

  And when that happened, he’d be devoted to her, and only to her. He’d be incapable of straying. Among their people, that was what finding a mate meant, and it was even truer for alphas. They loved fiercely and completely, offering up their heart and soul unconditionally, and once life-bonded, they never looked elsewhere for sexual pleasure. They couldn’t.

  And yet Jon couldn't stop himself from craving the other man. He was afraid of the gathering transformation he could feel inside himself, and he really wanted to talk Cae into going home right now, but the truth was he didn’t have the willpower to argue about it. His physical needs were just too immediate. Too stark.

  Cae’s arms were still around him, and his palms started to skim up and down Jon’s back. The feel of those big hands against his bare skin brought back the memory of Cae’s hands touching him more intimately, bringing him to an intense climax almost instantly. He felt his cock swell even more, until it ached.

  He buried his nose in the black t-shirt, breathing in the fragrance of an alpha, warm and sexy, comforting and heady, all at once. Cae’s skin had grown wet with perspiration when they'd made love, and his odor had changed subtly, becoming more blatantly sexual. He still smelled like the kind, decent guy Jon had always known, yet at the same time he smelled like danger and sex and violence. The strange contrast made Jon’s blood surge in his veins.

  He was Caeden Wolf, and yet he wasn't. He was the boy Jon had always loved — but he was also a savage, unpredictable man. Jon wasn't quite sure why that turned him on, but Great Lupus above, it did. It definitely did.

  It suddenly dawned on him that Cae had been touching him everywhere, but he'd hardly gotten the opportunity to caress him in return. He responded, running his own hands up under the black shirt and exploring the ridges and valleys of Cae’s powerfully sculpted back. Cae jerked his head back, the breath hissing between his teeth, and Jon smiled a little.

  “You feel good,” he whispered against the heated skin of Cae’s throat. “I've always wanted to touch you.”

  He ran his palms down the length of Cae’s spine, from the heavy muscles of his shoulders to the small of his back, and the other man shuddered and groaned like he was doing something downright dirty.

  “Your skin feels so good,” Jon murmured. “Like, I don't know, silk, maybe. Or velvet. I always thought of you as hard, but your skin is so much softer than I thought it'd be. So warm against my hand.” Cae’s muscles bunched and flowed beneath the skin at his touch, and Jon explored the ever-shifting patterns of ridges and valleys eagerly. “And your muscles feel so solid.”

  “Jon.” Cae gasped the name out with difficulty, as if he'd just run a sprint and was still desperately gulping air. His hands were still braced on Jon’s back, just above his jeans, but he'd quit moving them. He seemed enraptured by what Jon was doing, so transported by the pleasure of being touched that he'd forgotten to touch in return. But Jon was okay with that, because he was totally getting off on touching the other man’s body.

  His hands slid around to the sides, stroking the muscles layered over the ribcage. His friend had put on a lot of bulk as he matured, and he was really massive, but in a good way. Jon explored his ribs thoroughly, then moved around to his chest, moving his hands up and down his front, from his shoulders to the waistband of his jeans. A little whimper escaped Cae, almost as if he were in pain.

  “Your skin feels good here, too,” Jon whispered. His fingers slid across the smooth, hairless expanse of Caeden’s chest, exploring the sharp ridge of collarbone and the thick swell of pectoral muscle, brushing over the large stylized pattern stretching across his chest, a tattoo that every alpha received at age eighteen. He brushed his thumbs over the little erect pebbles that were his nipples.

  “Fuck.” The expletive fell from Cae’s lips in a low whisper, coarse and raw, yet at the same time as reverent as a prayer. His spine arched in helpless response as Jon stroked his nipples. “Fuck, Jon.”

  Cae’s hips drove forward, and Jon felt the huge bulge in his jeans, thrusting against him in a rhythm that conveyed need and urgency and blunt desire. Jon’s body responded with a heated throb, and he moaned, shoving up the black shirt and letting his lips and tongue follow in the paths his hands had laid out. Cae uttered another of those little whimpers as Jon’s tongue flicked lightly across his nipple.

  “God.” Cae’s voice dropped an octave, turning low and sexy and full of wicked promise. “Ah, God, yes.”

  Since Cae obviously liked it, Jon kept licking at his nipple, biting it gently, sucking on it, but his hands moved lower. Their people had less body hair in this form than humans generally did, but beneath Cae’s navel a thin trail of hair pointed downward like an arrow. Jon let his fingers slide along it, feeling the fine, silky hair and the soft skin overlaying the rigid muscles of his abdomen, until he encountered a barrier of black denim. He unbuttoned the jeans hastily, shoved them and Cae’s boxers aside, and lifted his head, looking at what he'd exposed.

  He'd gotten a very up close and personal look earlier, but that didn't stop him from wanting to stare again. Cae’s cock jutted out of a thicket of dark hair, so fiercely erect it pointed to the stars. The head of it looked flushed and dark, and he could see the sheen of moisture glinting in the moonlight. He remembered the way Cae had tasted, wild and sexual and hot, and he wanted to drop to his knees and do that again. But the desire to fuck was even more urgent, so he settled for running a hand down and encircling Cae lightly.

  Cae’s powerful body flexed, thrusting his erection eagerly against Jon’s palm, and a long moan rose from his throat. Suddenly Cae’s hands moved on him again, fumbling at his jeans and shoving them off, and then he spun Jon around. Jon reached out for the chain-link fence in front of him and clutched it, bending instinctively to allow access, and the other man thrust deeply into him.

  They both cried out in unison. Cae growled, a savage, low sound that sent chills down Jon’s spine. He rested his head on the rusting metal of the fence and let Cae dominate him. Having that big cock inside him again so soon ought to be uncomfortable, but instead it felt so good, fulfi
lling the wild need that threatened to consume him. Cae, he thought. Oh, Cae, Caeden...

  Except it wasn't Caeden. Not really. He didn’t quite know who this frightening stranger fucking him was, but it wasn’t his childhood friend. Not exactly, anyway.

  Jon opened his eyes, twisted his neck, and looked over his shoulder at the other man. Cae’s eyes had drifted shut, and his lips were parted in an expression almost of wonder. He looked vulnerable and young again, so vulnerable Jon wouldn't have been surprised to see another tear trickling down his cheek. He felt the sudden aching certainty that Cae, the real Cae, drew nearer to the surface when they made love.

  “Cae,” he whispered. “I’m never leaving you again.”

  *****

  Letting Jon get under his skin this way was a mistake.

  Caeden had known it was a mistake from the moment he’d seen his friend. He'd always had a weakness for Jon, feelings of attraction and affection he couldn't quite repress no matter how hard he tried, and when he'd seen Jon, those feelings had somehow flooded him. Overwhelmed him.

  And now that their bodies were linked together again, now that he was deep inside Jon again…

  All the emotions he'd been trying to avoid for the past month suddenly came flooding back into him with a vengeance, filling him with a surge of feelings he simply couldn't cope with.

  He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip on himself as guilt and pain and the fear of being different, of never truly being a member of the Pack he loved, all came crashing down on him, like anvils dropping onto a cartoon coyote’s head. He vividly remembered everything that had happened to make him run away, the whispers and the snickering and the sidelong glances of pity. He vividly recalled all the terrible things he'd done, everything he'd done wrong since he got here. He remembered himself casually stealing money, starting fights, seeking humans out with the deliberate intention of hurting them, of using his superior strength to injure them.

  Shame and anguish and guilt and loneliness swept over him in a huge wave, drowning him.

  Something of his thoughts must have been conveyed in the way he clutched Jon, because the other man reached back and stroked his hair gently. “Cae,” he whispered. “It'll be all right. We can go back home…”

  “No.” His voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears. He wasn't invincible after all, and he knew it. The awful truth was that he was scared and pathetic and weak, a whole hell of a lot more fragile than he wanted to be. “I don't want to be part of the Pack any more. I don’t want to be a wolf at all.”

  “But that's who you are.” Jon continued stroking his hair with gentle affection. The feel of his hand sliding through his hair was oddly reassuring, and Caeden closed his eyes, letting himself take solace in the loving touch. “It's who you are, whether you want to be or not. You can't run away from who you are. You can't just be someone else because you want to be.”

  “I am someone else now.” He spoke in a harsh whisper. “I would have killed that guy tonight. And I would have liked it.”

  Jon’s voice wavered. “There’s… there’s something wrong with you. It isn’t you.”

  He shut his eyes against the tears that burned there and uttered the stark truth, the same truth he'd voiced earlier tonight. “It was me, Jon. Deep down, it was me.”

  Jon moved against him slightly, and despite his emotional pain, Caeden suddenly remembered that his body was buried deep inside the other man’s. Jon was incredibly hot and slick, and Caeden’s cock gave a shuddering jerk of need. A low moan rumbled out of his chest, an involuntary sound of desire.

  “Everyone has dark thoughts,” Jon whispered. “But you don't have to act on them.”

  Caeden clenched his eyes shut harder and spoke through gritted teeth, trying to prevent tears from leaking out, struggling to stop his voice from trembling.

  “I tried not to, Jon. But I couldn’t help myself. I just couldn’t.”

  Even now, lost in the midst of physical pleasure, he had dark thoughts he couldn't suppress. He wanted to fuck Jon, to take solace in his flesh, even though he knew it was wrong to have sex with an omega. And more importantly, it was wrong to use his best friend that way, knowing that he could never give Jon what he really wanted. Jon loved him, and he couldn’t love him back.

  But Jon felt so goddamned good, and Caeden was so fucking miserable, that he couldn't let him go. He needed his friend, needed him with a bleak and terrible desperation.

  His fingers curled, so that his hands dug into the sides of Jon’s hips, clutching him possessively. He thrust into him, harder than before.

  They both cried out again. Emotions churned inside Caeden more wildly than ever, a volatile mixture of grief and pain and lust and need that he couldn't begin to control. He slammed into Jon again and again, inhaling the scent of his desire, feeling the heat of his body. Jon had submitted to him completely, and it felt so good, so right, that he never wanted to stop.

  Jon’s head fell back, exposing his throat in a gesture of trust, and Caeden heard the other man whispering his name like a prayer, over and over again. He couldn’t help thrusting harder.

  Jon’s reaction was almost instantaneous. His body grew hotter, clenching tightly around Caeden’s cock, and the scent of his arousal, the fragrance of his precome, grew stronger. Jon smelled like everything Caeden had ever wanted, like dark midnight sin and bright daylight purity all mixed up together, and his desire rapidly flared out of control. He thrust again, low sobs of pleasure falling from his lips, and Jon clutched the chain links of the fence and gave a long, high-pitched wail of need.

  Caeden wanted to make love to his omega forever, to never let him go, but Jon’s inner muscles were already clamping down on him, and Caeden was so fucking turned on that he couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down. He moved harder and faster, sweat dampening his skin, as a violent storm of emotions poured through him.

  “Jon,” he whispered, and faltered into silence. He had so much to say, so many random thoughts flashing through his brain, but he couldn't get the rest of it out somehow, couldn't articulate what he wanted to say.

  I missed you an awful lot. I'm so glad you found me, because I was so lonely and scared here by myself. I wish I'd made love to you a long, long time ago.

  He felt Jon coming, felt his body quivering with shock after shock of orgasm, and he couldn't hold back a second longer. He slammed into the other man, deep and hard, and his voice rose as long waves of pleasure racked him. Just for a moment, his pain and anguish faded, and there was nothing but Jon’s scent, the feel of his body, the quiet darkness surrounding them. All he was aware of was the ecstasy of coming deep inside Jon, and the sensation of their bodies melded together in hot, sweet rapture.

  His face was wet, and he wasn't sure if it was with sweat or tears. Maybe both. As the pleasure ebbed, he thought of the Pack, of home, of hanging out with Jon, and his face grew wetter.

  God, he was homesick. He missed his parents and his friends and the cubs in the Pack, the green spaces of his hometown and the blue mountains in the distance and the fresh clear air. He missed the grand old Wolf home, and he missed Jon’s simple bungalow. He simply missed his life, and he wanted it back, so badly he could hardly stand it.

  He just wanted to follow Jon home.

  Chapter 9

  Caeden had no idea how long the two of them stood there, leaning against the chain-link fence, panting heavily. At some point he’d wrapped his arms around Jon, and now he held him against his chest, possessively, protectively. His nose was pressed into Jon’s hair, and all he was aware of was Jon’s scent, the feel of his sweaty body, the sound of his raspy breathing…

  Abruptly he yanked himself back to full awareness. He’d heard or scented something besides Jon. Something had brought him out of the trance-like state he’d fallen into after his climax. But what?

  He lifted his head, his animal instincts on sudden high alert. Behind him, he heard the faint sound of breathing, the brush of rubber soles against grass—subtle no
ises that no human could have detected. Someone was trying to sneak up on them.

  Someone had done a pretty damn good job of it.

  He inhaled, drawing in the rank odor of a pack of humans. The gang he’d routed, in fact. Somehow they’d gotten past the five-foot chain-link fence and the padlock on the gate—maybe by climbing it, maybe by slipping through a gap somewhere. He was a little surprised the Rottweiler hadn’t chased them out. The dog must still be cowering under a car somewhere. Apparently he’d scared the poor beast worse than he’d intended.

  Instinctively, he whirled, using his body to protect Jon, crouched slightly, and snarled.

  A loud popping sound cut the night like a sword, and at virtually the same instant something hot slammed into his shoulder.

  Caeden yowled with pain, and spun back around, crashing to his knees. What do you know, he thought hazily. Jon was right. I’m not invincible after all.

  He heard an awful snarling sound, and forced his eyes open to see that Jon had shifted. The taboo had been too much for him to overcome to protect himself, but evidently he was willing to defend Caeden, in any form necessary.

  Shouldn’t have to protect me, Caeden thought. I’m the one who should be protecting him.

  He fought to get up, to go to Jon’s defense, but somehow his legs wouldn’t work. His head swam dizzily, and he was pretty sure he was losing blood at an alarming rate.

  Jon charged straight at the pack of humans, teeth bared, a murderous growl rumbling from his chest. He was a fairly unimpressive wolf—about half the size of Caeden’s sire, with a brown, scruffy coat—but the shock of seeing a human turn into a wolf before their eyes was apparently quite enough to scatter the human pack. There were a couple more reports of the gun, but both the shots seemed to go wild—hardly surprising, as a wolf, even one low in the Pack order, could move very quickly indeed.

  Jon’s strong jaws fastened on the shooter’s forearm, and the sound of bones crunching echoed through the junkyard.