Questions trembled on the tip of his tongue. He forced them away. Now wasn’t the time. But, fuck! What the hell sort of mess had he stepped into by returning to Yellowstone?
Chapter Twelve
“I thought every wolf took suppression drugs apart from those with official permission.” Corey started his questions the second they boarded the bus.
R.J. ignored the demand for information and backed up the bus. When they turned onto the main road, Corey started to show his impatience.
“Aren’t either of you going to answer me?”
“Every werewolf takes drugs unless they obtain official dispensation from the governing board. Every student who comes to Yellowstone has permission to go off the drugs for the duration of the course, but only if they sign an agreement stating they will recommence the drugs once they leave.” Hal’s matter-of-fact voice repeated the official stance on werewolves and suppression drugs.
“That’s what my father told me. What are we having for dinner tonight?” Corey jiggled about on his seat then stretched his arms above his head. “I’m starving.”
R.J. chuckled. “We’re having whatever you decide to cook us for dinner. We forage for ourselves when we don’t have students.”
“I suppose I have to do the dishes too,” Corey grumbled.
R.J.’s smile widened. God, he’d missed Corey, and while his return might have caused problems, he couldn’t feel sorry. One thing was certain. He didn’t intend to share a cabin with Emma tonight. At the first opportunity he’d grab Corey and find some privacy.
Back at camp, they went through Corey’s belongings in silence. Each of them checked for anything out of the ordinary. They didn’t find a thing.
“I think we’re good,” Hal said. “I’ll call my contact anyway. See you later.” He left the cabin and R.J. shut the door. He turned to face Corey, noting the new maturity in his face. The age difference didn’t yawn so wide right now.
“What? Have I got a smudge on my face?” Corey swiped his hand over his cheek, a quizzical smile in place.
“I’m pleased you’re here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He reached over and turned the key, locking the door. The snip clicking into place sounded loud in the pulsing silence. “Take off your shirt.”
Corey undressed at a leisurely pace, R.J. watching every button slip free of its hole, the gaping fabric giving him peek-a-boo glances of smooth flesh and muscular contours. “Tease.”
Corey’s throat moved in a swallow, making R.J. realize Corey wasn’t as calm as he appeared. “I missed you.” The shirt fell down his arms and slipped to the wooden floor.
R.J.’s gaze flitted down Corey’s bare chest. Earlier when Corey had undressed, R.J. hadn’t allowed his gaze to linger, not with the others present. But now they were alone, he indulged himself, taking his time to scan Corey’s pectoral muscles and his trim stomach and abdomen. He moved close enough to touch, ran his hand over Corey’s shoulder and trailed it down his chest, flicking flat nipples until Corey let out a low groan. Corey’s scent flooded his lungs, a little different than he recalled, probably because of the suppression drugs.
“How come your father didn’t get you to take the stronger drugs again?”
“No idea. Maybe he figured a half shift wouldn’t happen again. This drug-taking stuff is crap. I don’t understand why we can’t learn to control our wolves and stop taking drugs.”
“Too much money and power at stake. If humans learned of our existence the president would be ousted.”
Corey snorted. “So much for tolerance and accepting those who are different. What happened to judging on character rather than the color of our skin? I’m sure different species must fit into Martin Luther King’s famous speech somehow.”
“I don’t want to talk politics.”
“Me neither,” Corey purred. “Did you notice I had lube?”
R.J. felt his lips curl into a grin. “No one ever accused me of being slow.”
“What? No maidenly objections? What about Hal?”
“Hal knows everything.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” R.J. said. “I don’t want to talk about Hal. I want action.”
“Yeah?” Corey’s dark brows rose in a faint challenge, practically daring him to do more.
“I want you, stripped naked and on the bottom bunk.”
As R.J. said the words, Corey removed the rest of his clothes. The wooden bunk creaked when his weight settled in the middle of the mattress. He stared at R.J. with longing. Urgency thrummed in R.J. He ripped off his clothes and settled on the narrow mattress with Corey seconds later. He ran his hands over Corey’s lean flanks, his muscular thighs, kissing everywhere he could reach. He nipped at soft flesh, laved the sting away with a swipe of his tongue. Corey clutched him close, his breathing harsh and urgent.
“I want you,” Corey said. “I’ve dreamed of touching you again. God, I missed you.”
Every hoarse word struck an echoing chord in R.J. This was it for him. Corey. He hugged him. “It hasn’t been the same without you around. I missed running with you and sharing the small details of our days. I missed touching you. Your smiles.” Their lips met, hurried and hungry. Hands grasped and squeezed. Corey’s cock jabbed him in the stomach, leaving a wet smear across his skin.
He’d intended to lick and play, to tease and taunt Corey until he trembled with desperation. The kid had burrowed under his skin and clung like a burr attached to a sock.
This was a second chance, and one he didn’t intend to forfeit without a fight.
He reached over and grabbed the lube, squirted a generous dollop into the palm of his hand. Beneath him Corey trembled in anticipation, with the same eagerness surging through his veins. He roughly parted Corey’s legs and crawled between them.
“I can’t wait to push into you.” His rough voice trembled with need and desire. So much need. He couldn’t remember ever needing sex this bad before. He didn’t care how he got off as long as it happened with Corey.
“Do it.” A begging note entered Corey’s voice. “I’ve waited for this for days.”
R.J. used a forefinger to stroke Corey’s hole. Desperate for a deeper intimacy, he guided Corey’s cock to his mouth and closed his eyes while he stroked, pushing lube into him, slicking Corey up for his possession. His tongue stroked the swollen crown, each lash in time with the intrusion of his finger.
Corey writhed under his attention, small groans and whimpers escaping him. Droplets of Corey’s pre-come flowed across his tongue. Breathing hard, he ripped his mouth away. He fitted his cock to Corey’s entrance and pushed inside until just his tip intruded, the tight muscles almost unbearable on his sensitive head.
“Don’t stop,” Corey wailed, wriggling and trying to draw him deeper. “Move. Do something. Please. I’m begging you.”
“I want this to last.” But unable to resist either Corey’s pleas or his own needs, he drew back and thrust a little harder, battling the ring of muscle, savoring the heat. His hips jerked, pushing him deeper. Then he was inside Corey, balls deep and surrounded by clasping, throbbing heat. So good. His eyes closed and he blindly sought Corey’s mouth, kissing his shoulder, his neck and his jaw before managing to land one on his lips. Corey clutched him tightly, his manner possessive.
“Move. Please move,” Corey pleaded against his lips, the garbled words scarcely recognizable.
“Corey. God.” R.J. resisted the plea and continued to woo Corey with his lips, withdrawing and thrusting forward enough to keep them both on edge. When he noticed Corey reach for his cock, he knocked his hand away. “No, let me take care of you.” He took him in his right hand, wrapping his fingers around Corey’s warm flesh. He thrust harder, faster, getting closer and closer to losing control. His thrusts turned jerky, uneven. No finesse.
Corey’s cock pulsed in his hand and he pumped his fingers up and down with firm strokes. Seconds later, Corey groaned and arched his back, forcing R.J. deep in
to his channel and the crown of his cock hard against the palm of his hand.
He rocked again and then Corey was coming. Liquid gushed into R.J.’s palm, the scent of their joining filling the air.
“You look beautiful when you come. I’ll never tire of watching you.” R.J. eased off on the hand action and put his energy into his thrusts. Hard and uncoordinated. Good, so good he felt as if he were flying. Heat. It surrounded him, filled him. Pulled him under with its intensity.
Corey’s channel clamped down, clutching him, massaging him and enticing him to fly higher. His balls tightened with his next thrust. He bit down on his lip, anxious to hold back his cry of pleasure. Then he realized he didn’t have to hide any longer, not from Hal, not from himself. He pumped into Corey again and his climax rolled over him, semen shooting from him in hard spasms of pleasure. When they finally stopped, he slumped against Corey, exhausted yet invigorated at the same time.
Corey squeezed him, holding him close, and he felt as if he’d arrived home to a safe haven. R.J kissed his shoulder, his neck and finally Corey’s lips. When R.J. lifted his head, he brushed his fingers across Corey’s jaw, tenderness bringing a lump to his throat.
“Are you going to send me away?” Corey stilled his hand in the middle of R.J.’s sweaty back before resuming the comforting petting. “I…I want to stay.”
“I know. I don’t want you to go either, but what about your father?”
“I’m not a child anymore. I left home at eighteen and moved into my apartment. I haven’t lived at home with my parents since then. He doesn’t have anything to do with my decisions, even though he tries to boss me around.”
“Does he know you’re gay?”
“Nope,” Corey said cheerfully. “I didn’t think it was wise to share the information.”
“We don’t want your father around here,” R.J. said, aiming for a diplomatic tone. Aw, hell. Maybe directness would work best. “It’s kind of weird discussing your father when we’re lying here naked.”
“Is it because of the others? They’re on the run or at least operating outside legal channels. They’re not on suppression drugs.”
R.J. pulled out of Corey, and instead of getting up, he tugged Corey back into his embrace. Funny, he’d never considered cuddling another man. With Corey the affection came naturally. “I’ll tell you what I can before we grab a shower.” He thumped his elbow against the wall and let out a yelp.
Corey chuckled and tried to shift over. “Maybe one day we can use a room with a big bed and a handy shower. A place where I can wander to the bathroom naked without having to dress first.”
R.J. laughed but couldn’t deny the rightness of the scene Corey described. “There’s an underground movement in the States formed by a growing number of wolves who don’t believe suppressing our natures is the right way to go.”
“And they’re…wow!” Corey clutched his shoulders. “Isn’t that dangerous? What happens if you get caught?”
“Life’s dangerous, Corey. You’ve lived in the city. You know what it’s like.”
“That’s different.”
“So you think it’s okay for a few powerful werewolves to enforce their will on the others?”
“Of course not, but humans aren’t ready to learn of our existence. Can you imagine the mass panic?”
“I don’t object to laws, but we need fair ones that apply to everyone equally.”
Teague stared through the bars of the cell, scarcely able to see through his swollen eyes. A guard strolled past the cell, his black Enforcer uniform a blur of color to him. Bastard. He’d taken great pleasure in cracking Teague’s ribs, giving him the boot when he was down, writhing in pain from the Taser shot.
“You ready to talk yet?”
Teague turned carefully, biting his lip to hold back a cry of pain. A muffled groan escaped anyway, the throb in his bruised, swollen ribs sheer agony. Forcing his eyes open, he focused on Corey’s father, uncertain of his course of action. One thing was certain. He couldn’t take much more abuse.
An unearthly scream came from the far end of the corridor, shutting off abruptly. The acute silence was even worse than the screaming. It made Teague wonder, worry.
“Where is Corey?”
Grant Wilson stood at the doorway and studied him through the steel bars. His face bore not an ounce of pity. Teague recalled the brutal determination he’d seen the first day they’d taken him. Grant Wilson didn’t like his son. Teague suspected he hated Corey. So why did he want him back so badly? Why did he try to exert his control over his son when it was obvious Corey wanted nothing to do with his father’s world?
Teague didn’t understand.
“I want to know the whereabouts of my son. Tell me and you can leave.”
Intuition told Teague the man was lying. Even if he told him the truth, Grant Wilson didn’t intend to release him. Teague knew too much, had heard too much in the days he’d spent down there.
The scientists were sadists. They enjoyed their work a little too much for his liking.
And the experiments they conducted down there in conjunction with the doctors—they couldn’t be legal.
“I’ve told you. I don’t know where Corey is. He didn’t tell me where he was going and I didn’t ask.” The same line he’d maintained since they’d grabbed him at Corey’s apartment.
“Here’s the thing,” Grant Wilson said. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth and, since I can’t beat the answer out of you, I’ve come up with a new idea to make you talk.”
Teague didn’t answer. Nothing he said would make a difference so he saved his breath.
“I have your mother and siblings. They’re staying with my wife and me. They’re safe enough, for the moment.” The threat dangled between them. The longer the silence, the more terror pulsed through Teague. His mother, his brothers. Fuck!
He owed Corey loyalty but this was his family.
“So I’ll ask you again. Where is Corey?”
“I’m not telling you until my mother and brothers are in a safe place.”
A sly grin crawled across Grant’s face. “Safe is relative. They’re safer where they are and my wife is happy having children to fuss over. My wife likes children.”
Shit. Nothing he did would make this better. Maybe a partial answer. He closed his eyes, praying for guidance as he’d never prayed before.
“Stop fucking around. Where’s Corey?”
Teague opened his eyes, shifting his weight for comfort. A shard of pain cut through his chest, bringing a groan. “Corey went to New York.”
Grant straightened, his eyes narrowing. “You said that earlier. Where in New York?”
“I don’t know. I dropped him at the airport. That’s all.”
“What does he intend to do there?”
Teague shrugged, a moan breaking free as his ribs protested the move. “He said he wanted to find a job at one of the art galleries.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure? I can arrange for your brothers to visit you here. They should probably have a check up with a doctor. Childhood diseases are rampant these days.”
Hell. Fuck. Damn. What should he do?
“Where’s Corey?” The quiet words stung like the lash of a whip across his flesh. He owed his loyalty to Corey but his brothers—he couldn’t let them suffer. Not that he could trust Grant Wilson either. Between a ravine and a rabid wolf. No matter what he did, someone would get hurt.
Maybe he could stall for a little longer? Could he persuade Wilson to let his mother visit? No! That wouldn’t work. Once she knew about this place, it would seal her fate. Wilson wouldn’t let her leave.
“Corey is in New York. I don’t know where he intended to stay. He wanted to get a job in another gallery.” Teague risked a swift glance at Grant, his stomach sinking at the disbelief on the other man’s hard visage. He looked away, galled he was unable to sustain the eye contact.
“Bullshit.�
�
Teague flinched. “I don’t know anything else.”
“That’s your final word.”
“Yes.” Teague hated bullies, and he understood why Corey wanted to move far away from this man. A streak of fear shot through him, producing a fine tremor, one the man didn’t miss.
His mouth twisted, but it didn’t approach anywhere near a smile. “I’ll leave you to think.”
Once Wilson’s footsteps receded, Teague slumped against the nearest wall, a pained groan wrenching from deep in his throat. His stomach let out a protesting grumble. They’d given him water but no food. No suppression pills either, which worried him even more. If the world wasn’t fuckin’ screwed up with stupid laws, he might have attempted a shift to speed his healing. He didn’t dwell on the thought. Shifting would only rain more trouble down on him. He sank down the wall, not even having the strength to make the three steps to the hard cot on the other side of his cell. Head hanging, his eyes closed. Someone cried in the cell next to him. Two men talked in low voices at the far end of the facility. Without warning, the screams started again. Full of anguish and suffering, they made the hairs at the back of his neck rise. A sense of hopelessness filled him and a tear flowed down his face.
The time passed. Teague fell into a shallow sleep, jerking awake with each fresh round of screaming.
Footsteps sounded—several men—but Teague couldn’t summon the energy to lift his head, not even when they stopped outside his cell.
The door squeaked open and someone walked up to him. A kick hit him in the ribs. The second one struck him before he could escape.
“Get up.” The harsh voice of the Enforcer who’d originally beat him sent a throb through his head. A third vicious kick didn’t help.
Teague groaned, the pain in his ribs so bad he almost blacked out.
Rough arms grabbed him, holding him upright between them. Through narrowed eyes, he watched Wilson approach.
“This is your last chance to tell me Corey’s location.”
Lone Wolf Page 15