by Lynn Hagen
The fantasy faded long enough for him to grab the lube from his nightstand drawer, then it came back full force. Stanton arched his back and moaned, moving his fist faster as imaginary Nomad played with his hole, teasing the ring of muscles before he slid a finger inside.
“God yes!” Stanton rolled to his hands and knees, his shoulders pressed to the bed as he stuck his ass in the air, wishing to god that Nomad really was there.
But he wasn’t, and what a damn shame.
Stanton played with his own hole, jerked his cock, and begged Nomad to fuck him.
He was so deep into the fantasy that Stanton felt a fissure crawl up his spine, felt his orgasm cresting. His lips were parted, and Stanton gasped and panted seconds before his climax erupted, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body.
The release had been what he needed, but it had been mild compared to what he suspected the real Nomad could do to him.
With a sigh, Stanton left his bed and cleaned himself up, feeling even lonelier than ever.
* * * *
When Stanton woke the next morning, the first thing that popped into his head was Nomad’s naked body and those piercing blue eyes, and damn if Stanton wasn’t horny all over again.
He really did need to get laid more often. It had been close to six months since he’d been with anyone, and the use of his hand was getting old.
His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. Buttercup started barking his head off as Stanton pulled himself from the bed to answer it.
He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, wishing he had a cup of coffee first. There was nothing like a cup of caffeine to jolt you awake and get your day started. When he passed through the living room, he looked at the clock on the wall. It was eight in the morning. Too early for him to be awake.
Without looking through the peephole, Stanton yanked the door open, ready to tell the salesman-deliveryman-Jehovah’s Witness that he wasn’t interested and should be ashamed for waking someone so damn early.
His eyes bugged when he saw Nomad standing there with a carrier of coffee in one hand and a bag in the other. He stepped past Stanton without being invited in.
And fuck him sideways, the guy smelled so damn good that Stanton wanted to lick him from head to toe. Even in a simple pair of jeans and a tight black T-shirt, Nomad looked good enough to devour.
“I brought breakfast.”
Stanton stood there too stunned to say anything, but Buttercup seemed delighted. His tail wagged so fast that it should’ve propelled him into the air.
“I’ll take the dog out.”
What in the blue blazes was going on? Was he still dreaming? No, this wasn’t a dream, because if it were, Nomad would’ve been at his door completely naked with lube in his hand instead of breakfast.
His jerk off session came to mind and Stanton felt himself blush as he closed the door and went into the kitchen.
Nomad was already outside with Buttercup. The coffees and bag were on the counter, so he peeked inside and saw two wrapped breakfast sandwiches.
Stanton was at a loss of what to think or say. That was twice in the past eight hours that Nomad had shown up for no reason.
Buttercup trotted back into the house and sniffed at his empty food bowl. Stanton grabbed the small bag of dog food from the cupboard and filled it then filled his water bowl.
When he turned back around, Nomad stood by the counter, digging the sandwiches out. Stanton jerked from being surprised. He hadn’t even heard the guy come in.
“I hope you like sausage and egg with cheese.”
“Uh…sure.” Stanton put the bag away and joined him. “Can I ask why you’re here?”
Nomad was tall and broad, and handsome as fuck. Stanton was intimidated just being in his presence. There was an aura of danger about Nomad, but as Stanton studied the man closer, he also noticed there was a quietness to him too, like the guy was always thinking but never voiced those thoughts.
Like he lived inside his own head.
“The house was a bit crowded,” Nomad said. “I just wanted some peace and quiet.”
“So you came here?” He just bet the O’Brien house was full. The four brothers lived together, plus Stanton’s ex-roommates, and Layne and Nash’s four-month-old son. Luckily the house was huge, but he could see why it was so noisy.
Nomad shrugged. “It’s just you and Buttercup. And it’s blissfully silent.”
That was the most he’d heard the guy speak in all the time he’d known him. Well, Stanton didn’t really know Nomad. The guy wasn’t one for conversation. All Stanton knew was that Nomad was an O’Brien and he liked to stay in the background.
“You’re alone, so I thought I’d hang out here.”
Stanton bristled. “So you came by out of pity?”
Nomad’s blue eyes became dark. “Do I look like someone who does something out of pity?”
“No,” Stanton said. “You look like someone who eats small puppies for breakfast.”
A smile curved Nomad’s lips, making him appear less deadly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“So, y-you just wanted to hang out?” Why couldn’t Stanton stop seeing Nomad naked? God, he wished he’d never had that image burned into his brain. It was a nonstop torture now that he knew what the guy looked like without any clothes on.
Like a god sculpted by angels.
Stanton grabbed one of the coffees from the carrier and took a tentative sip. He sighed as his eyes rolled back. “How did you know I like my coffee with just cream?”
Nomad dug into the bag, giving him no answer.
“Look, I know you’re a functional mute, but could you at least give me one-word answers or hand signals or something to help this conversation.”
Nomad looked at him with those intense eyes, and Stanton felt like backing away. “I remember how you drank your coffee from the few times you visited in the mornings.”
Wow. Stanton hadn’t a clue that Nomad had been paying him any attention. In fact, when Stanton had visited those mornings, the guy hadn’t been anywhere around.
He let the subject drop. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Nomad nodded, looked at Stanton, then said, “You’re welcome.”
The guy was learning, but Stanton was still baffled at his presence. Sure, Nomad had said he wanted to hang out, but Stanton had a feeling there was more to it.
He’d have to call his friends later and ask if they knew why Nomad was suddenly interested in coming over. That was if they had any idea that Nomad was here in the first place.
Stanton wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to keep Nomad’s visits all to himself. Nomad didn’t seem the type to share what was going on in his life, and if he wanted to come over to escape, then that was no one’s business but his own.
Chapter Two
“Are you insane?” Clarke Bailey snarled into the phone. “You know better than to call me on an unsecured line.”
“My phone is encrypted,” Nomad snarled right back as he stood under the tree he’d been sitting in last night. He’d never met a more paranoid person in his life. Then again, Nomad couldn’t blame Clarke for his precautions. He worked at The Company for four months, helping them with their research, before Nomad had gotten out of there. It was Clarke who’d made Nomad’s escape even possible.
“What do you want?” Clarke asked. “Make it quick. I don’t need anyone trying to trace this call.”
That was impossible, but telling Clarke that would’ve fallen on deaf ears. The doctor swore the government was tracking him, and the guy might be right, but Nomad highly doubted it. They hadn’t known Clarke had helped Nomad, or he would’ve been dead by now.
“I need to know if you heard anything about me,” Nomad said. “If anyone spotted me in California.”
“You were an idiot for coming here,” Clarke snapped. “Why the fuck would you risk getting recaptured? Are you that hellbent on returning?”
Nomad had gone to California to take care of a problem his bro
ther Keller was having. He needed to handle the douchebag who’d sent a demon after Keller. So far the threat had worked because, in the past three months, Marcus hadn’t contacted Keller or made any trouble for him.
“I had important business I had to handle.” Nobody fucked with Nomad’s family. Nobody. Not while Nomad still carried a single breath in his lungs. He’d seen the true evil of the world and Nomad would do anything to keep it from touching his family.
“The doctor,” Clarke said. “You could’ve just called me to handle that pompous jackass.”
Nomad should’ve known Clarke was still monitoring his whereabouts. The question was, had anyone else been watching him, too?
“Some of the higher-ups have been taking secret meetings,” Clarke said. “I have no idea what those meetings are about. I tried gathering some intel, but they’ve compartmentalized everything. I can’t even get a whiff of what they’re doing.”
“How long have they been like that?” Nomad looked toward the house, still wondering why he was so fascinated with Stanton. He had been since first laying eyes on the male, but he’d kept his distance. But now that Stanton lived alone, and Nomad knew the man’s background, he couldn’t seem to stay away.
“Since your impromptu visit.”
Nomad cursed. “Do you think they’re meeting about me?”
“You were their prize asset,” Clarke said. “They’re dying to get you back.”
A handful of scientists and doctors ran the place, a small group who’d discovered that panther shifters existed. Unbeknownst to Nomad, they’d been watching him for weeks before they’d snatched him in Colorado where he’d been on a recon mission for a covert agency he’d been working for.
For five long years they’d experimented on him, trying to unlock the secret of how he could shift. They’d sliced him up, run their tests, and tortured him with shock treatments just to see if electricity could bring out his cat.
Nomad had sunk into his mind, the only protection he had against the people who referred to themselves only as The Company. But he hadn’t been the only shifter there. Nomad had heard the others scream, their begging, and knew their “subjects” had died from what they’d done to them.
Nomad shivered at the memories. He’d die before he was dragged back there. He’d fought them the entire time he’d been held captive, the only one who had survived their tests.
They considered him the strongest of his kind. Nomad didn’t think of himself that way. He was just a survivor who had refused to let them win.
“So you think they know I was in California?”
“That would be my guess,” Clarke said. “If I were you, I’d lay as low as you can. Find someplace to hide out and don’t resurface. I don’t want to see you back on those tables.”
Clarke Bailey had been the only doctor there who’d held an ounce of compassion, who thought what The Company were doing, was wrong.
“Have they captured any more?” Nomad didn’t want to think of any more panthers being tortured. He’d vowed to burn the building down and kill every last employee, but he’d fled and hadn’t looked back.
“Not since you escaped,” Clarke said. “That’s why they’re so determined to get you back.”
Stanton came outside with the two cups of coffee. He held one up and smiled at Nomad. This rental house would be the perfect place to lie low, though Nomad didn’t want to get Stanton involved. If The Company found him, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill Stanton in order to keep him quiet.
Nomad knew a part of the reason why he’d come here—knew it in his gut. Stanton was just as lonely as Nomad was. There was a vulnerability to the human that Nomad could relate with, a need to be around others while feeling so apart from them.
“I’m ending this call,” Clarke said. “We’ve been on the line too long. Keep out of sight and off the radar. Do you understand?”
Nomad didn’t answer him. Clarke had hung up too fast.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and crossed the lawn. As badly as he wanted to leave Stanton alone, to keep him out of this, Nomad knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He could’ve run, left Georgia, but his family was vulnerable, with two mates ready to give birth, which meant there would be a houseful of babies.
If The Company found out that human males could get pregnant, there would be no stopping them. Nomad’s entire family would be snatched, and that was something he couldn’t allow.
For now, he would keep coming around Stanton’s as much as possible to keep himself hidden, and in return, if there was something Stanton needed, Nomad would help out.
He didn’t tell Stanton that plan. Nomad didn’t want Stanton knowing what was really going on, because the less he knew, the safer he was.
“Thanks,” he said when he reached Stanton and grabbed his coffee.
“It was getting cold, and so are the sandwiches.”
He followed Stanton inside, and the two ate in silence. Nomad wasn’t one for small talk, and couldn’t think of anything to say. But he did know one thing. He had to tell his brothers what was going on so they could protect themselves and their families.
“So how are Horace and Stevie?” Stanton used his napkin to wipe at his mouth. “Stevie is due any day now. I know he’ll be glad to give birth.”
“They seem to be doing fine.” Nomad polished off his sandwich. Damn, that hadn’t been enough. He should’ve gotten himself two of them.
Without asking, he got up and looked in the fridge. There wasn’t much there, or in the freezer. Didn’t Stanton believe in buying food for the house? The cupboards were even more dismal.
“Do you always help yourself at someone else’s house?” Stanton asked.
If Nomad was gonna hide out here, he needed to get some groceries. He required a lot of calories, and the choices here were depressing.
He felt Stanton move in behind him. When Nomad turned, they were face to face.
Stanton looked Nomad over, from head to toe, a slow drag of his eyes that had Nomad’s blood pumping faster. He blinked a few times as a blush crept over his cheeks. The male crossed his arms and all Nomad wanted to do was uncross them and pull Stanton close.
Stanton cleared his throat before he spoke, and Nomad’s gaze lowered to the guy’s lips, dying for a kiss.
Dying to take Stanton to bed and strip him naked.
“I know something’s going on. You didn’t just pop up here to raid my empty fridge or have breakfast with me.” Stanton walked away and cleaned up their small mess, and Nomad’s eyes were glued to the guy’s ass. Stanton wiped the counter down and folded the towel neatly before placing it on the handle of the stove.
“Whatever it is, I can handle it,” Stanton said as he faced Nomad. He placed his hands on his hips and Nomad’s eyes followed, imagining Stanton naked. “Are you running from the law, an ex-lover, or the feds?”
The male had quite the imagination. Nomad would’ve preferred those options compared to the monsters he was truly running from.
“I just stopped by. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
Although Buttercup had just gone out, Nomad opened the back door and waved for the dog to follow him. He needed to do a perimeter check and to get away from Stanton.
The human was making his dick hard, and if he kept listening to the man’s soft voice, Nomad just might do something he could possibly regret. Stanton was a temptation he’d never faced before, and his panther was yowling to get closer.
* * * *
“So what are you saying?” Stanton gripped his cell phone so hard that his fingers hurt. He was standing in his kitchen, the faucet handle turned, but no water was coming out. He didn’t get paid for another three days.
But now that the water was shut off, instead of paying the past due amount, Stanton would have to come up with money for the full bill.
He didn’t have three hundred dollars just lying around. He could have it when he got his paycheck, but that would leave him flat broke.
“I’m ver
y sorry, Stanton,” Mr. Willoughby said. “It wasn’t my decision. Business is really slow, and a few people had to be let go. Unfortunately your name was one of them.”
Stanton wasn’t going to break down. He wasn’t going to panic or beg his boss not to fire him. This couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. He would just have to swallow his pride and ask his parents for help. And after the spectacle he’d made, telling his mom and dad that he was a grown man and could stand on his own two feet.
Even so, he would tuck his tail if that meant not being homeless.
“Thank you for calling and letting me know.” Stanton hung up and set his phone on the counter. Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would get through this. Somehow. One thing was for sure. Stanton needed to move into a smaller place, somewhere he could afford.
Just as soon as he found another job. Moving cost money he didn’t have, but staying didn’t seem to be an option, either. Maybe he could buy a tent and live in the woods.
As if sensing something wrong, Buttercup rubbed against Stanton’s leg, whimpering. He picked the little terror up and cuddled him to his chest. “At least if I end up on the street, you have a home to go to. Horace would love to have you back.”
Truthfully, Stanton would rather ask his friends to bail him out of this than go to his parents, but Horace and Stevie were way too pregnant to bother, so he tried calling Layne.
“Make this quick,” Layne said when he answered. “Stevie went into labor.”
And no one had thought to call him? “Just now?”
“No. A few hours ago, and he’s screaming his fool head off. I think he busted my eardrums. I would say that he’s a drama queen, but I’ve been through labor, and it ain’t no joke.”
A few hours and Layne or Horace hadn’t bothered to pick up a phone and call Stanton. He thought all four of them were best friends, but it seemed he wasn’t cool enough—or in their pregnant club—to be a member.
“Tell Stevie I said good luck.” Stanton hung up. He wasn’t one to throw himself a pity party, and he wasn’t going to start now. But damn it, why were his friends acting as though he didn’t exist? Why had they left him in this big-ass house that he couldn’t afford on his own? One of them could have at least offered to pay one of the bills.