Sommer Marsden Lion Hearted (Divination Falls Trilogy 01)

LION HEARTED

Book One in the Divination Falls trilogy

An erotic novel by Sommer Marsden

Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2012

ISBN 9781909335585

The right of Sommer Marsden to be identified as the author of this

work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and

characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic,

magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,

without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite

11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

To anyone who’s ever fallen for someone fast and hard.

Whether it made sense or not. Logic is overrated.

And as always: To the man. I love you. For ever and ever.

Amen. (I fell for him fast and hard and here we are …

Seventeen years later.)

Chapter One

‘Here’s your whisky, Tryg,’ Matthew said. He slid the
shot glass across the scarred bar top.

‘What kind?’
‘Rot gut, what other kind do you drink?’
Tryg grunted, almost smiled, and tossed back the

amber liquid. ‘How about another?’

‘You up for trouble tonight?’ Matthew looked wary,

holding the whisky bottle but not pouring. What kind of
bartender didn’t pour?

‘Me? Never.’ Tryg fingered the scar that bisected his

eyebrow and barely avoided his left eyelid. He realised
Matthew was watching, and quickly dropped his hand.
‘I’m fine, Matt. Just pour.’

‘Word is –’
‘Word is none of your business and it’s just hearsay

so … Maybe you should just pour and not worry about
rumours.’

Matthew pressed his lips together, nodded, poured.

‘Fine. But any problems from you, Bolo, and you’ll be
banned from my bar.’

‘Got it,’ Tryg said. ‘And don’t call me Bolo.’
Matt shrugged. ‘It’s your name, as far as I heard until

you started drinking here. Damn, Tryg, I thought it was
your name.’

‘A bolo is a knife,’ Tryg said.
‘And you’re an enforcer.’

‘Go away.’
Matthew grinned and went to fill another order. That

had been close. Tryg had been itching to clock him to
teach him some manners. But he wouldn’t do that.

We thought it might be good for you to have a break

from the pride …

He shook off the echoes in his head and downed the

glass of whisky. About 600 more and he might feel better.
He might even get his drunk on. Tryg set his glass down
with a bang and Matt looked up. He was annoyed.

‘So let him be annoyed,’ he growled.
Someone bumped into him and he practically roared,

the urge to shift rippling under his skin and along his
spine. This was not the day to provoke him. When your
pride wants to send you away for “a break” you’re pretty
much over. Especially if you’re supposed to be the
muscle. Again he touched his scar and it made him
angrier when he realised he was doing it. Whoever was
behind him had better be ready.

‘What the fuck is your problem? You can’t see where

you’re –’

Something made him bite off his words. Maybe it was

the flash of fear in the man’s bright blue eyes or the
nervous duck of the head that caused sandy blond hair to
fall across his brow. Tryg bit back another roar because
he found himself even more annoyed that he found the kid
attractive.

‘Move,’ he growled.
The kid moved. Tryg called him a kid because he

might be 25 to Tryg’s 32. Might.

Their shoulders brushed as he tried to push past, and

he felt a comingling of instincts. The urge to lash out and
hurt immediately contradicted by the urge to protect.
What the hell?

‘Sorry,’ the kid said.
Again, he wanted to hit him and kiss him. Tryg shook

his head and moved away. He needed some air. Maybe
he’d had too much to drink.

Or not enough brain cells in your damn head…
He forced his way through the small bar. As he passed

the first booth he heard Ozric. ‘What the fuck? You’re
still here?’

‘You’re not on the road yet, Bolo?’ someone else

piped in.

Tryg tried to drown out the voices. These were the

guys who’d gotten him to the point of being asked to take
an indefinite road trip. Ozric and his crew had issues with
Tryg. Issues about his ways, his job, and who he chose to
fuck.

‘Just keep going. Just keep walking,’ he told himself.

He wanted to return to his pride after his mission was
complete and be welcome. Even if his pride included
assholes like Ozric and Ronnie and Dane.

‘We don’t need your kind anyway.’ This time it was

Ronnie who spoke. He was short and sort of out of shape.
Were they forced to live in their animal forms, he’d be the
first to succumb to starvation and die. He was a shit
hunter and a worse person. ‘It’s not like you help expand
our numbers.’ He snorted, hefted a beer, looking smug
and amused.

That was when Tryg snapped, his body rippling from

the surge of adrenaline and rage. The toxic soup of
hormones that ushered in a shift boiled under his skin and
he felt his feet turn to rush the group instead of keep on a
steady course toward the door.

The roar ripped up and out of him, but he heard it more

than felt it. His fingers clenched, then went warm from his
joints softening to reconfigure. He felt a canine tooth slide

against his tongue and tasted blood. It was fine. He
wanted to taste blood.

‘Remember what I said, Bolo!’ Matt called from the

bar. Tryg caught a flash of his wide eyes and his fingers
delving under the bar where a dart gun was kept. One shot
from that thing and almost any shifter in the bar went
down like 50 pounds of shit in a 10-pound sack. The only
creature to ever manage to stay conscious had been a
visiting shifter –a Kodiak bear.

The Bolo reference only made him angrier and he

moved fast. Faster than was normal even for him. His
nails had just bitten into the soft wood of the table, ready
to tear the top off and maybe use it to beat the fuck out of
the morons sitting there – but then a hand settled on his
shoulder.

Two things happened. His brain said “attack”. His

body said “relax”.

What the hell?
He turned to find that boy. Those water blue eyes wide

but intent. ‘Easy,’ the kid said.

Tryg considered taking a swing anyway. Attempted to

tell his brain to raise his fist to clock this kid and teach
him a lesson. His body betrayed him. Under all the
confusion, that made him nervous.

‘Are you insane?’ Tryg rumbled, but felt his muscles

relax further, his claws contract, his muzzle reform. He
felt a loosening in his solar plexus and a syrupy kind of
peace.

Maybe Matt had hit him with that tranq gun, after all.
But no, the kid still had his hand on Tryg. ‘Come sit

down. Let me buy you a drink. You need to shake off a
day full of dicks,’ the kid said. His tone was almost but
not quite like a hypnotist working his magic.

Tryg wanted to say no, but heard himself say, ‘OK.

And yes, it’s been a bag full of dicks kind of day.’

He stared down Ozric and his crew. They were doing

their best to look annoyed and put upon, instead of what
they actually were. On the verge of shitting their pants
with relief.

‘You’re Bolo?’ the kid said, his eyes finding the

taunters.

‘I’m Tryg,’ he said. ‘Don’t call me Bolo.’
‘It’s a knife, isn’t it?’ the boy asked, touching Tryg’s

elbow, steering him to a booth at the opposite end of the
bar.

‘Yeah. It’s a knife. A Filipino knife similar to the

machete,’ he muttered. ‘It’s how I got my scar and I
survived it. So the name stuck.’

‘So your nickname could be Machete,’ the kid said,

giving him a sidelong glance. His eyes found the scar, and
instead of wincing, he smiled.

‘I wish.’

Chapter Two

‘Speaking of names, you never told me yours.’

Tryg set back in the booth as Matt brought a tray. He

put down a bottle of cheap-ass whisky and two glasses.
‘On the house, Bol – erm, Tryg.’

Tryg raised an eyebrow. ‘On the house? I don’t believe

I’ve ever heard you mutter those words, Matthew.’

Matt grinned. ‘Hey, I’m no dummy. I know you could

have dismantled my bar six ways to Sunday to get to
them. And they’d have deserved any ass-kicking you
delivered, but you didn’t. So take the damn peace offering
with some grace, will you?’

‘You’re all right – for a human.’ Tryg laughed and

poured out two short measures of liquor.

‘I have Marielle bringing you some nachos too.’ Matt

turned on his heels and left, a short chuckle floating after
him.

‘Ooh, nachos too, whatsyourface.’
This time the kid snorted and put his head down. If

Tryg wasn’t mistaken, the guy was blushing. ‘My name is
Luke.’ He downed his drink and held his glass out for
more.

Tryg was impressed. This stuff was no better than

paint thinner and Luke hadn’t even flinched.

‘Luke what?’
‘Does it matter?’
Marielle put a huge platter of nachos down between

them and reached out to affectionately stroke Tryg’s hair.
He pushed his head into her hand, encouraging the touch.
Mar was one of his few good friends. And everyone
needed to be touched. When she stroked him like a pet
cat, he often let her. ‘Thanks, big guy,’ she said, and left
him alone.

Tryg turned his attention back to the apparently

ravenous Luke. He’d already downed a handful of
topping-loaded chips. ‘Yes, it matters. Luke what?’

‘Luke Dorchester.’
‘Nice. And you were insane enough to touch me mid-

shift because …?’ This was where he was really curious.
Why the fuck hadn’t he dismantled this guy the moment
he’d been touched?

Luke shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’ Then he mumbled

something and shoved more chips in his mouth.

Ozric and his crew had left and Tryg allowed himself

to relax just a tiny bit. He had to get his shit together. The
fact that he was pissed and, yes, hurt – though he’d admit
it to no one but himself – he’d still been given a job to do.
As the pride’s enforcer, he needed to do it right, no matter
what.

‘What was that mumble, Luke Dorchester?’
‘Nothing.’
The kid’s eyes were amazing. Tryg’s body went into

full want-mode when he looked into them. They were the
colour of a fall sky in September. Clear and bright and
perfect. The urge to kiss Luke Dorchester came out of the
blue, but was as staggering as a roundhouse punch to the
jaw. Tryg curled his hands against his thighs to keep them
in check. He didn’t need his hormones overriding his
good judgment. Luke was too young. And too fragile. His
delicate nature would never ever survive a bull in a china
shop personality like Tryg’s.

‘Tell me.’ It came out on a growl, and he saw the hair

on Luke’s arms rise up with goosebumps. But he also saw
the almost sensual way the other man licked his lips. He
was torn –should he be afraid or should he be turned on?
To Tryg, he smelled an even mix of both.

Luke blew out a sigh and dropped the chip he held. ‘I

felt your rage. And I wanted to help.’

‘So?’ Tryg asked, claiming the dropped chip and

eating it almost violently. ‘What’s the big secret about
that?’

‘I felt your rage.’ Those blue eyes were piercing when

aimed directly at a guy.

Tryg snorted, but something deep inside him where the

truth of himself lived prickled at the choice of words.
Something unsettling, as if a cool breath had been blown
across the back of his neck and coursed over him.

‘I was pissed and ready to shift. Half of the county felt

my rage.’

Luke poured them both another drink, and shook his

head. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I knew you wouldn’t get it.’

Tryg found that he wanted to get it. He wanted to

understand. He grabbed Luke’s hand, forcing himself to
be gentle at the very last second. This guy wasn’t a
shifter, he was a normal guy.

With a twist …
‘I want to get it. Tell me.’
Those eyes found him again and Tryg bit his tongue

when he realised he’d nearly reached out to brush the
sand-coloured hair from Luke’s brow. What the fuck?
Was he turning into June Cleaver with a hard-on or what?

‘You’ll think I’m crazy,’ Luke said.
That made him laugh. ‘Maybe I will, but man, I am

crazy. Who gives a shit if I think you are.’

The kid put his head down and mumbled something,

but Tryg was ready for it and his ears picked up the words
and strung them together. He barked out a laugh. ‘You’re
an empath. What’s an empath? Like empathy?’

Luke looked up, wary, a bit annoyed. Those insanely

blue eyes were now the colour of washed denim and Tryg
mentally shook off yet another urge to kiss him. Hard.

‘Yes, pretty much. Sort of,’ Luke said, his jaw tight.
‘Sort of? Like you can empathise with my intense rage

at that pack of morons and could empathise with my urge
to kill them, yet were calm enough and magical enough to
make me not do it?’ He snorted and put the cork in the
whisky. Enough of that. Tryg raised his fingers in Matt’s
direction and pointed to the beer taps, signalling two.

‘Yes and no,’ Luke said. He sighed so loud Tryg

waited for him to deflate. Then the boy shook his head.
‘Look, let’s just drop it, OK? It’s hard to understand and
I’m not in the mood to explain it.’

Tryg shook his head. He didn’t understand it, he

wished he didn’t want to understand it, but he found he
truly needed to understand. ‘Please tell me,’ he said in his
best calm person voice. He only dusted that voice off
once or twice a year, so it felt awkward.

Luke looked up, surprised. Tryg could only assume the

kid saw his intention there, because Luke surrendered and
said. ‘I am an empath. I don’t imagine how you feel. I feel
how you feel. When you went all –’ he twirled a finger
toward the now empty booth ‘– Bigfoot over there, I felt
your rage. I felt that anger and it threatened to cut off my
air, stop my heart, possibly do something that would be
regretted later. Even if they were a flock of assholes.’

Tryg snorted at the flock of assholes. What an apt

description. ‘So you’re saying you can literally feel what
someone is feeling?’

‘Mostly. But with you it was much stronger.’

Matt came and put down two beers. He took the

whisky bottle and the mutilated tray of nachos. ‘You
cool?’ he asked.

Tryg blinked. ‘Yeah, why? I’m fine.’
‘You seem calm. That’s weird. Just figured I’d ask.

Maybe the kid roofied your drink or something.’

Luke looked mortified, but Tryg burst out laughing.

‘Get lost, Matt.’

Matt chuckled and wandered off, leaving them alone

again.

‘Look, not that I believe you.’ When the kid looked

hurt, he bumbled on. ‘I mean, it is kind of hard to believe,
you have to give me that, kid. But why – if it is possible –
was it much stronger with me?’

Luke looked away, down, up … Anywhere but right at

Tryg. ‘I don’t know. It’s never been that strong before. It
was like I was literally feeling it down to my bones. As
real as my very own feelings. And I usually can tell, I’ve
gotten good over the years at – deciphering. With you,
just now, it was hard to recognise it as someone else’s
emotion. Until I saw you over there, then I got it. But…’
Another shrug.

‘But?’ Tryg wanted to grab Luke by the shoulders and

shake him. Make him talk even if what he was saying was
crazy. And then, OK, he’d admit it, then he wanted to
fuck him senseless.

Christ.
‘But it was very intense. It was an instant connection.

I’ve never felt anything like that. It scared me some.’
Luke was tracing a seam in the wood tabletop with his
thumbnail. Tryg suddenly felt protective and possessive.
For no apparent reason. It was very unlike him. He
preferred his dalliances brief and perfunctory. But that
wasn’t what he wanted right now. He wanted to take this

guy home, take him in the biblical sense, then take care of
him. Fuck him and then hold him. Maybe he was having a
stroke.

‘Yeah, you’re super-sensitive.’ He sounded gruffer

than he’d intended. ‘What am I feeling right now?’

‘In a word?’ the kid asked, cocking an eyebrow.
That didn’t help Tryg’s burgeoning hard-on situation.

‘Yeah,’ he growled.

‘Horny,’ Luke said.

Chapter Three

‘Well, is that really a shock? I think anyone could pick up
on that.’ He chuckled.

‘No,’ Luke said. ‘But from the feel of it, not only are

you horny and somewhat – attentive? Protective? You’re
also surprised by this emotion.’

Tryg sat back in the booth, seemingly to stretch, but it

was to put distance between them in case this supposed
gift of Luke’s had to do with proximity. ‘Hunh,’ he said,
noncommittally.

‘Maybe even a bit uncomfortable at the fact that you

want to do more than bang me and drop me,’ Luke said,
spinning his beer but not drinking it.

‘How would I even know you’d be into that? The

banging part, that is?’ He hated that he felt hopeful. What
a fucking wienie he was.

‘I think you know. I’m sure you can feel it coming off

of me, the same way anyone could feel attraction from
another person. Unless they were oblivious. Are you
oblivious?’

Tryg grunted, said nothing. He changed the subject by

saying, ‘So how come I’ve never seen you before?’ He
was almost successfully ignoring his pounding heart and
his intrusive erection.

‘I don’t live here.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘I don’t live anywhere. I was passing through and saw

you … Felt you. So I followed you in.’

Tryg felt his face register surprise and tried to school

it. He failed. ‘So you’re a traveller.’

Luke nodded. ‘No ties. Shitty family life, no urge to

settle down or become one specified thing. I travel and I
pick up work enough to travel on to the next spot.’

‘I have this road trip coming up … Tomorrow. It’s

important and could be dangerous and … Well, fuck.’

‘What?’
‘I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but …’ Tryg

shook his head. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe he was
crazy. Maybe Ozric had hit him with a piece of the booth
and he was currently unconscious and hallucinating.

‘But?’
‘Want to come with me?’
‘Sure,’ Luke said. ‘But one thing first.’
‘What’s that?’ Tryg narrowed his eyes at Luke, trying

to see inside his pretty head, maybe see what was coming.

‘Take me home,’ Luke said, pushing his knee to

Tryg’s under the table.

‘So you can rob me and take advantage of my delicate

nature?’

Luke tilted his head back and the most perfect laugh

erupted from his pretty mouth. He laughed so hard it
made the long muscles in his neck dance. Tryg had a brief
but intense fantasy of fastening his teeth over that neck as
he fucked Luke. Licking the pounding flesh above his
pulse. Tasting the essence and his beauty on his skin.

When the kid stared him right in the eye and said,

‘Yeah, that will happen,’ he sealed the deal.

Tryg dropped a tip on the table and stood. ‘Let’s go,

kid. Before I change my mind and realise that you should
be running from me, not following me home.’

* * *

There was this pregnant pause when Tryg shut the front
door behind them. Luke swallowed hard, fidgeting
restlessly. Tryg’s eyes tracked every small, edgy motion.

‘So this road trip … Where’s it to?’
Tryg said, ‘I don’t know.’ He heard the growl in his

own voice. Felt his nerve endings dance and shimmy with
the urge to shift and claim and fuck. Instead, he stayed
just as he was and advanced on Luke. Luke, who looked
much smaller and much more vulnerable now that they
were alone and in his territory.

‘Oh,’ the smaller man said, backing up a little. Tryg

could see him trying to stand his ground. Could see him
failing too.

‘You can go now. Run. Tell me no.’ Tryg gripped

Luke’s upper arms in his big hands. He felt a rush of
emotions – lust, fear, peace, joy. It all washed over him in
a crushing wave that threatened to sweep him under and
away.

‘I’m not running.’ Luke looked terrified but, under it

all, he looked excited.

Tryg had one more thought to let him go. It flitted

through his mind, fast and light like a hummingbird,
before he batted it away. He wasn’t letting this go. This
was some kind of divine reward from the universe for an
utterly shitacular week … Hell, year. And, knowing his
luck, it would all fall away almost instantly. So he
decided in that heartbeat he was. Not. Letting. This. Go.

So he kissed him. Dug his fingers into Luke a bit too

tight, he knew, but he could smell the tang of pain and
fear on the boy. It was almost too much to bear. He’d
never really hurt him anyway. Tryg knew that; it was as
concrete as the feel of Luke’s cock to his thigh. That hard
length of flesh told Tryg he was right. His grip on the
younger man wasn’t too hard – at least, not really – and

the pain drove the pleasure faster. Luke liked it. It was on
his scent.

‘You’re a what? A what?’ Luke babbled against Tryg’s

lips. But his hand – much smaller than Tryg’s baseball
mitt-sized hands – slipped and slid enticingly up and
down Tryg’s erection. It was all Luke could do because
Tryg still held him firmly by the upper arms.

Another kiss. This time his tongue bullied the boy’s.

Tryg nipped the younger man’s lower lip hard enough for
him to jerk and whimper against Tryg’s mouth. But
Luke’s entire body pressed forward instead of drawing
back – seeking more of the contact, not less.

Tryg shook his head, fighting the urge to shift and

fighting the urge to really bite Luke. He didn’t want to do
anything to scare him off. But God, his mind was going
fuzzy and red. He wanted to fuck Luke until he wept …
In the best possible way.

‘A lion.’ His voice came out rough and raspy. His

vocal chords caught somewhere between man and beast.

He popped the button on Luke’s jeans after releasing

the steel grip he had on the kid’s upper arms. Luke
watched, fascinated, as Tryg peeled open his fly and
slipped his beat-up jeans low on his trim hips. He made a
small, startled noise when Tryg dipped his fingers into the
blue boxer briefs concealed beneath the denim and swept
his fingertips along the hard-on hidden inside the cotton.
When their skin met, Tryg felt the jolt travel through him.
Simple arousal and want turned to brain-pounding lust.
His rein on control was unravelling fast, and threatened to
break.

He moved fast, crushing Luke’s mouth with another

rough kiss. ‘Now’s your chance,’ he rasped. ‘If you want
to run, run away, little rabbit. Because you have about
two seconds to back out of this.’

He’d been a good guy, Tryg told himself. Offered

multiple outs. So when Luke pushed his hand against
Tryg’s belly, skating his pinkie finger low enough to tug
at his waistband, Tryg surrendered. He shoved Luke’s
jeans down all the way, giving the boxer briefs a brutal
push while he was at it. When he had him bare, he took
him in hand. His cock curved to the right a bit – it was the
first wild thought to run through Tryg’s mind. The fine
trail of wheat-coloured hair from Luke’s shallow belly
button to his crotch was utterly lickable was the second
thought.

‘This is going to be a rough ride,’ he said. ‘I have zero

patience and a ton of want right now.’

Luke grunted and turned willingly. Tryg was able to

see – ever so vaguely – the kid nodding as he went
whatever way Tryg positioned him. It made Tryg’s dick
even harder, seeing the docility. Seeing the trust. He bit
Luke’s ass cheek so hard the kid went rigid and yelped.
But then he sighed softly, and when Tryg found Luke’s
cock with his palm and stroked once, the kid started to
tremble. The moan that slipped out of him said he wanted
more, not less.

Tryg didn’t take the tee off his victim; he just shoved it

up to the scruff of his slender neck and let his fingers play
briefly over the expanse of well-muscled skin. Luke was
thin but he was taut, and Tryg felt his need grow teeth and
claws. The desire to change and just take the smaller man
the way he wanted – the way he needed – was like a
steady chant in his blood. Instead, Tryg took his pants off,
tossed them, and gripped his cock hard enough to help
him steady his thoughts. Usually, he preferred manners,
but he spit in his hand to lubricate himself – it was the
best he could do.

His mouth popped open as a wall of uncertainty went

up in his chest. But Luke spoke before he could.

‘Just do it,’ Luke whispered. He splayed his hands on

the brick façade of the interior living room wall. ‘Just put
it in. You won’t hurt me and if you do … It’s OK.’

As Tryg watched goosebumps rise up on Luke’s skin,

an illusion of flesh and blood, he felt the fine hairs on his
arms and scalp prickle in response. ‘How did you know?’
he asked, advancing.

His heart pounded and nearly deafened him. It was all

he could hear. He kicked Luke’s ankles to widen his
stance. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to be kind.
Tryg wanted some kind of goddamned self-control and he
was failing miserably.

Luke pressed his lower body back toward Tryg. In the

animal world – fuck, in any world – it was called
presenting. Tryg rumbled with fierce lust, and ran the tip
of his spit-slick cock to Luke’s back hole. ‘How did you
know?’ he asked again.

He pressed forward, breeching that ring of muscle,

feeling the sinful heat of Luke’s ass. This is what the boy
felt like on the inside. This was what Tryg needed. This
was – insane, he thought, burying his nose where Luke’s
neck met his shoulder. He inhaled the clean, innocent
smell of him, and then thrust hard and entered. It was too
much, too fast, too hot. It was perfect and tight and when
Luke’s fingers curled to the wall and he sighed, Tryg
knew it was safe to move. He wasn’t being too much of
an asshole.

‘How did you know that I almost changed my mind?’

he demanded, gripping Luke’s trim hips. He smoothed his
thumb over a small birthmark shaped like a dagger at the
kid’s hip.

‘I told you,’ Luke said. His forehand was pressed to

the wall, his body moving back in short, even arcs to take

Tryg deeper. ‘I can feel your emotions.’

In that instant, something dark and brittle inside Tryg

broke. When had anyone claimed to understand him?
Bolo was his name for a reason. He was fast and brutal
muscle when muscle was needed for his pride. He was
also persecuted to some degree for his choices of who to
fuck, and those were the people who put him on edge –
made him feel dangerous even when he shouldn’t. It was
backwoods backwards that he had to put up with this
bullshit, but there it was. Prejudice was alive and well in
his so-called family of shifters.

He put one hand around Luke’s pretty neck and the

other found Luke’s equally pretty cock. There would be
plenty of time for a long, slow wooing. For an easy fuck.
But now wasn’t that time. He curled his fingers to Luke’s
neck with just enough pressure to let him feel it – really
feel it in his neck and head and temples.

Being buried to the balls in Luke’s heat and moisture

was too much, and Tryg knew he had little time. Tryg
stroked Luke’s cock and felt the tightness increase around
his own. They were both trying to hold on and not
managing very well at all. He licked Luke’s neck, his
shoulder, just to taste his skin. He smelled his hair and
watched the bunch and flex of his muscles. Tryg wanted
to see and taste and smell and experience all of it, but the
feel of the friction and the slide as he drove deeper, faster,
rougher became too much. A roar built up, swelled,
ripped out of him as he felt the warm spill of Luke’s
orgasm run over his knuckles and drip from his hand. He
came a split second later, his teeth clenching warm, tender
flesh, trying so very hard not to break the surface.

‘You say you feel me,’ he grunted, moving in and out

slowly. Milking those final seconds of pleasure for all it
was worth.

Luke pressed his head to the wall and nodded slowly.

‘Yes.’

‘Why do I believe you?’ Tryg asked. Then he turned

the boy in his arms, caught him up tight, and kissed him
again before Luke could answer. Tryg wanted to kiss him
for the rest of the night. And into the morning too.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Chapter Four

‘So what’s this road trip?’ Luke asked.

They were curled around each other on the giant blue

sofa that dominated Tryg’s living room. Luke had pulled
on his boxer briefs, Tryg had pulled on nothing. They
were drinking hard cider and eating rare steak from a
Tupperware container. Not to sound too domesticated, but
Tryg thought it was fucking perfect.

‘Ah, there’s the rub, as they say,’ Tryg sighed.
When he said it, Luke stroked his finger the length of

Tryg’s cock. ‘Look, just add finger. Instant hardness,’
Luke laughed.

It surprised Tryg that a rumble of genuine laughter

erupted from him. ‘You must be magic.’

‘The road trip.’
‘Ah, yes, the road trip.’ He turned his head and gently

kissed the Luke’s temple. Tryg was refusing to examine
his new-found attraction, the ease he felt around the
young man or his current feelings of nearly domesticated
bliss. He’d chalk it up to a bad fucking day and possible
borderline insanity.

‘The trip is to follow the trail. Or the scent. Or

whatever you want to call it of a local’s daughter. Abigail
Pitt was taken, we assume, from her home about 12 hours
ago. The problem is she’s 18. Nearly.’

‘And you’re not on the road yet?’ Luke sat up a bit. It

made his muscles flex in the most amazing way and Tryg

couldn’t help but drag a fingertip over the firm ladder of
his abs.

‘Nope. They wanted to make sure she wasn’t with

friends. Even upset, her father is a logical motherfucker.
Abigail has been having some – issues, I guess you could
say.’

Luke popped a thin slice of salted beef in his mouth.

Tryg watched him chew. Watching his mouth work that
way was making his dick hard again. Watching the boy
lick his pink lips was making him damn near insane.

‘Issues?’
‘Yeah, she’s almost 18, has some dangerous friends –

rebellious types, if you get me. So…’

‘Why do you keep saying she’s 18 like it’s important?’
Luke’s blue eyes were amazing, Tryg realised. He also

realised he was so busy staring at the kid he wasn’t
talking. ‘Because it is. Shifter females usually shift for the
first time around 18. A small percentage go …’ He shook
his head. ‘Loopy? Not the best word, but some of them
suffer a hormonal meltdown. It also happens to males, but
not as much. And there’s an added issue.’

‘What’s that?’ Luke’s nail was back on Tryg’s cock.

Tracing from tip to base and back again. He had no doubt
Luke was listening to him, but what he was doing to him
was distracting the hell out of Tryg.

‘She’s considered a prize. There are some, shall we

say, crazy cults, who believe that if a spell or whatever
hoodoo they’re practicing requires a sacrifice, human is
better. Shifter human is even better. Her father fears that
someone got wind that she was coming of age and has
scooped her up to make a third moon appear or call up the
Dark Lord or ask the tentacle gods to help them get a new
BMW.’ Tryg shrugged, and leant in to smell the skin of
Luke’s neck. He smelled musk, arousal, his own scent …

Fucking. It was a scent that threatened to shut down his
rational mind. ‘It’s happened before,’ he murmured.
‘More than once, sadly.’

‘So you have to rescue her.’
‘If they decide she’s missing. I’m to leave at dawn if I

don’t hear anything.’

‘And I’m going with you.’ It wasn’t a question. Luke’s

big blue eyes studied Tryg’s face. Tryg noticed he’d never
felt more naked. He changed his position and looked
away, but forced himself to look back into those eyes. He
forced himself to feel vulnerable for a change. Instead of
angry and persecuted. It was just as uncomfortable.

‘You are.’ He tried to make his answer a statement too.
‘But first we need to sleep,’ Luke said. He put his hand

in front of his mouth and yawned.

‘You’re tired. I’m forgetting you’re human.’ Tryg

started to move and Luke put a hand out to still him.

‘It’s fine. And what do you mean, I’m human?’ He

chuckled, and his eyes crinkled in the most decadent way
at the corners. It lightened his whole face, making him
look a little less innocent, a little more impish. ‘Shifters
don’t sleep?’

‘Sure we do.’ He brushed his fingers through Luke’s

hair. It was a full shade lighter than his own and reminded
him of childhood trips to the shore. ‘We just don’t need it
as much as you weaklings.’ He couldn’t bury the chuckle
that came out of him.

Luke snorted, rolling onto Tryg. His body was warm

and lean. He kissed Tryg full on the mouth, startling him
for a moment, until he forgot to be startled because their
cocks were rubbing together as Luke moved. This was
what dying felt like, Tryg was pretty sure. And if it was,
why had he been fighting to live for so long?

‘So, a lion …,’ Luke muttered, stroking the short hairs

around Tryg’s face. He kept his hair short, his face clean
shaven. No lion jokes for him, thank you very much.

‘Lion,’ he rumbled.
Luke nodded. Tryg tensed. Here it was. The moment

when the human asked him to shift. Maybe asked to fuck
him while in cat form. This was their fetish. The thing
that drew the boys to Tryg. They wanted to get off with a
big cat, feel danger, come while terrified. And then live to
tell the tale. He waited. And waited.

Luke tugged at his neck and simply said, ‘Kiss me.

Please.’

Tryg exhaled and happily obliged.
‘This time I’m going to go slow,’ he whispered, letting

the words drift down over Luke’s skin. He kissed that
utterly fuckable mouth, and slid his tongue along the
muscled slope of Luke’s throat. He watched him swallow
reflexively. Watched as an army of goosebumps raised up
along his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Tryg thumbed
Luke’s small, flat nipples and watched the pink discs of
flesh respond.

He was in control of this body and it made him harder.

He didn’t think harder was possible, and yet Luke pushed
it even further by taking him in hand and stroking his
cock. He swept his fingertip over the tip of Tryg’s cock
and smeared the bit of precome found there. The added
sensation of slippery and wet over hard and engorged
made his eyes drift shut.

‘Kiss me again. Please.’ Luke always remembered his

manners. ‘And look at me for a minute.’

‘I am looking at you,’ Tryg said, staring the boy down.

He put his hand to Luke's hard-on, squeezing.

‘You have the most amazing eyes.’ Luke thrust up into

Tryg’s hand when Tryg cupped his balls through those
maddening briefs.

‘Oh, go on. I bet you say that to all the lions,’ Tryg

said, trying to joke it off. He’d never admit in a million
years that the compliment had brought blood to his
cheeks. He could feel the blush crowding his skin and
prayed that Luke could not.

‘Shh,’ Luke said. ‘You’re in charge, but don’t make

light of what I say to you. I feel this …’ He shrugged.
Looked away.

‘This what?’
‘This fucking connection to you. And I’m afraid you’ll

think I’m crazy.’

‘Nope.’ Tryg proved it by gently latching his teeth

above Luke’s pulse and licking that tender skin until he
squirmed in his arms. ‘I don’t think that at all. Take these
goddamn things off.’

Luke pushed down his boxer briefs and stared at Tryg

full-on. Any other time he’d feel aggression from
someone looking him dead in the eye. This time, he felt
humbled. He dipped his head, licked Luke’s hard chest,
biting at his nipples until they stood up straight. When he
brushed his lips along the boy’s belly button, his hip
bones, the place above his pubic hair, he watched the
muscles there dance and jump at the soft stimulation of
his lips.

He sucked Luke’s cock into his mouth. Once, twice,

three times he went down until Luke’s hips shot up and he
moaned softly, turning his head, sandy hair falling over
his blue-blue eyes.

‘Put your legs up, boy,’ Tryg said. He’d never felt

more dirty and more turned on. He was easily seven years
older than Luke. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him, but
normally it would all just be about the fucking. That
wasn’t this. This was – dangerous. The urge to protect
was nearly as strong as the urge to take.

Luke pulled his legs up, knees high, opening himself to

the intrusion Tryg was about to deliver. Tryg’s heart was
pounding as he took his cock in hand. His heart had never
pounded like that. It scared him, but God, it also fucking
turned him on.

Chapter Five

He pushed the head of his cock to Luke but didn’t enter.
His fingers curled to Luke’s slender throat. He felt the
tendons and muscles and that wild untamable pulse jump
beneath his hand.

‘Do it … Please,’ Luke said.
Tryg obliged. His body moved closer, his muscles

glancing over Luke’s. He slipped inside deeper, thrusting
his hips. Trapping Luke’s cock between them. The
friction was unbearable on both accounts. He took Luke’s
mouth in a kiss that was supposed to release all he was
feeling; the fear, the frustration, the uncertainty. Feeling
uncertain made him angry for the most part. Tonight, it
made him feel vulnerable.

Luke shoved his fingers into Tryg’s short hair and

tugged. That bite of pain yanked a growl out of him and
under his body Luke shivered. ‘Yes,’ he said.

Tryg moved faster, taking him for real now. Not

worried if he’d hurt the boy. If he hurt him, Luke would
say. He trusted that now. Knew Luke would speak up. He
wasn’t sure how he knew, but instinct dictated. And
wasn’t instinct what his whole damn species was about,
anyway?

He clamped his teeth along the fine bones of Luke’s

clavicle. His hands, of their own accord, it seemed,
shoved Luke’s arms up high above his head, trapping his
two wrists in one big hand. Tryg squeezed, feeling

smaller bones than he possessed grind for just a split
second. Long enough to force a small sigh and whimper
from Luke’s mouth. Then he swallowed the sound down,
licking it off soft, pink lips. His tongue bullied and
brushed over Luke’s and he rocked his hips just so,
feeling the press of his belly to the man’s cock.

Luke tried to tug his hand free, no doubt to get hold of

himself so he could come. Because it was clear that Tryg
was going to come. Having this slender man trapped
beneath him, at his mercy, was a bit too much for his
scarred and fucked-up psyche.

Luke tried to pull free again and Tryg growled. ‘Stay.’
Luke froze, nodded once, and parted his lips for the

kiss Tryg delivered. He bit as gently as he could manage
at Luke’s lower lip and thrust his tongue in tandem with
his cock.

Fucking his mouth, fucking his ass …
He pushed himself over the edge with that, and gripped

Luke’s wrists so hard he heard another whimper-sigh. He
wanted to say sorry, he hadn’t meant that, but it was lost
in the white-hot rush of orgasm that slammed him not just
in his body, but in his mind … In his soul. It seemed to
shake all of him the way an earthquake shakes a neglected
house’s foundation. That was him, a neglected house. A
rundown soul receptacle.

‘Jesus,’ he growled, his mouth tangling in that beach

blond hair of Luke’s. It seemed to have flown everywhere
as he fucked him, a supreme version of bed head.

Luke kissed him all the way through the rush of the

orgasm. Even though he’d been denied his own freedom
to get off. It made Tryg’s head spin, how he could do that.
How he could still give and obey and do it willingly. It
wasn’t a sex game, it wasn’t a power exchange; it seemed
to be who this boy was.

Tryg kissed him back, releasing the wrists he had

trapped. He cupped the back of Luke’s head with one big
hand. It felt almost small to him, cradled there in his
much bigger mitt. But it was an illusion; it was Luke’s
gentleness he was sensing. Tryg braced himself with his
legs, worked a hand between them, and caught Luke’s
hard-on up in his loose fist. Then he started to move,
stroking and moving his hips in time. Faux fucking Luke
while his fist gripped and squeezed and stroked. He did
that until Luke’s tongue stopped responding to his own
and the boy was gasping. His body growing tense and
somehow longer under Tryg’s bigger form.

Then he gave out a cry that Tryg gladly gobbled up

with another kiss and they were messy and stuck together.

Outside, it started to rain.

At 4 a.m., Tryg was up. He set his cell on the back of the
toilet on top of his towel. Luke was curled up in his bed.
Somewhere around midnight, Tryg had scooped him up
and carried him up to the bed. Luke had barely resisted,
and once his summer blue eyes had opened and he’d
realised who was holding him and where he was, he’d
smiled and immediately gone back to sleep.

Something in that gesture alone had broken Tryg a

little. Not the kind of broken he’d always worried about –
the kind that made you weak and soft. The kind of broken
that he’d always imagined was impossible for him. The
kind of broken where sharp and painful parts of yourself
seem to melt and you fractured inside, only to knit back
together a bit stronger.

‘Fuck.’ He’d whispered that one word in the dark and

then lain there, listening to Luke breathe. At four he’d
given up and rolled out of bed to tuck the covers around
the other sleeping form in his bed. His step had been soft

and sure on the hardwood floor and he knew damn well in
that instant his phone would ring soon so he’d brought it
with him.

Tryg eyed himself in the mirror. He didn’t look any

different. Same pale amber eyes, same short, dark blond
hair. Same tight, tense jaw and same thin lips. He was the
same man, and yet something inside him had shifted. It
was exhilarating and terrifying.

‘You’ve gone insane,’ he growled, and turned on the

water.

Steam filled the small room. Tryg didn’t bother to pull

the blind down. The window was pebbled to disguise
anything unseemly behind its glass. His neighbours would
see nothing, should they look up, but a flesh-coloured
blob moving around.

The water was hot enough to make him hiss, but

exactly what he needed. He shut his eyes and let the heat
wash away all the clamouring anxiety he felt because of
the feelings he was experiencing for Luke. He’d known
him less than 24 hours and had fucked him twice, let him
fall asleep in his home, tucked him into bed, and now he
was taking the kid on a road trip. He could rarely stand
himself for that amount of time, let alone another person.

The phone rang.
Tryg stuck his head out and found it. He shook his hair

until it wasn’t dripping. ‘Yeah. Avondale.’

‘Tryg, they want you to go,’ Severn said.
By “them”, the caller meant the council. Those sane

and even-minded folks who ran the pride. Tryg reminded
himself that he was just the muscle. He took his orders
and he ran with them.

Plus, it will give you time to be away from the pride …
An outcast. He grinned to keep his rage at bay, locked

behind his teeth. ‘They didn’t find anything?’

‘Nope. All her friends were clean. No one knows

where she is. And one of them is missing too. Dinah
Willoughby. She’s gone, the same time as Abigail.’

‘Awesome.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll get on the road today. Any

clue at all which direction they headed?’

‘The last anyone saw them they were up by Lake

Topaz. All the kids go up there to drink and smoke and
fuck. You know the drill.’ There was a small smile in
Severn’s voice but Tryg didn’t let it get to him. Of the
whole pride, only a handful of people didn’t make him
suicidal. Severn was one of them.

‘Yeah, I vaguely remember being young.’ He snorted.

‘I’ll check in before I go. Probably be on the road in the
next few hours.’

But for once I won’t be alone …
He hung up, unsure of how that made him feel. He was

excited to have Luke with him. But unnerved. Caring
about someone made you weak and vulnerable. Neither of
those things was something Tryg chose for himself if he
could help it.

Chapter Six

He studied the sleeping Luke. His face was so innocent,
so clean when he was sleeping. Fuck, it was that way
when he was awake. But in this situation Luke’s pretty
features were utterly relaxed, his plump lips parted in
sleep. The small mole over his upper lip made Tryg want
to lean in and kiss him – and more. The way his hair fell
over his brow made him look damn near edible.

Tryg cleared his throat. ‘Wake up, sunshine.’
The eyelids fluttered, the blue eyes opened, and Tryg

felt his heart skip a beat. What the merry fuck was wrong
with him? Had the guy doped him? Put some backwoods
juju on him? Struck him with the magic stupid stick? But
even as he wondered it, he knew it wasn’t true. This was
simply what he felt for this new person in his life.

Maybe you’re confused because you haven’t felt

anything in ages.

‘What’s up?’ Luke asked, sitting up and rubbing his

eyes. The blankets fell away from his lean body, and Tryg
held his breath to try and push away the urge to crawl into
the bed instead of get Luke out.

‘You need to be. If you are, in fact, coming with me.’
Luke smiled, flashing even white teeth. Tryg clenched

his fists. He was so not getting into this bed. No way, no
how.

‘I’m coming.’
Tryg groaned inwardly. He took a breath and blew it

out. ‘Hop in the shower and find that bag of yours you
dragged in last night. I’ll go make coffee. We need to visit
the place where the girls were last seen, then hit the road.’

‘Girls?’
‘Yep, turns out there’s more than one missing.’
He knew he shouldn’t bring the younger man coffee.

He knew he should just leave it on the table. But Tryg
also knew he rarely did what he knew he should do. He
was a pain in the ass, sometimes, even to himself.

He didn’t knock. It was his house, and somewhere in

him he had to prove he didn’t care. He just nudged the
door open with his knee and said, ‘I didn’t know how you
liked it so it’s two sugars and a few drops of real cream. I
like real cream …’ He knew he was babbling, couldn’t
help it.

‘Must be the cat thing,’ Luke said, winking.
Had anyone else said it, Tryg probably would have

punched him. Instead, he shocked himself by laughing a
loud, lusty laugh. He hadn’t laughed like that since
childhood, he was pretty sure. Maybe infancy.

Luke grinned, drying off as if it were no big deal at all

that Tryg had just barged in. Or that now he was laughing
like a mental patient. ‘Thanks,’ he said, suddenly looking
shy.

He clutched the navy blue towel in front of himself as

he reached for the mug. Tryg pulled it back, just out of
reach. ‘Hiding something?’ he asked. What the fuck was
wrong with him? His throat felt stuffed full of cotton balls
at the moment and though he knew they were on a
deadline, he was ready to ignore it.

‘No.’ But Luke blushed. He reached again, and Tryg

backed up another step.

Such an odd dance they were doing, but Tryg realised

that for the second time since last night his heart was

pounding. ‘Drop the towel.’

Luke looked away, almost shook his head, then tried to

smile. He dropped the towel to reveal a spectacular
morning erection. Just seeing him that way, hard and
ready and dripping-wet-naked, made Tryg’s insides
clench up. He heard the groan escape him before he could
stop it, and begrudgingly handed over the coffee.

‘I should have left well enough alone,’ he said. His

own cock grew hard in response – talk about a visual
trigger. Had he thought his dick hard? Not hard. Hard was
normal. This hard-on felt forged of steel and capable of
knocking down a brick wall or two.

Luke’s eyes darted down to his length, then back to

Tryg. Those insanely captivating eyes studied Tryg for
any hint of arousal. And found it.

Tryg realised he was shifting with nerves. What the

hell was that? That never happened. He cleared his throat
again. He ran his hands through his hair to give them
something to do.

Three hefty gulps of tepid coffee and Luke smiled,

setting the mug on the back of the toilet. ‘Thanks. That
will make me feel almost human. Maybe not, though,
because the sun’s not even up yet.’

‘Yeah,’ Tryg said, still staring.
‘Hey, I –’
Tryg didn’t give him time to speak, he gave into his

urge. He put his mug down and, in one big step, had
Luke’s head braced in the palm of his hand as he moved
in to kiss him. It was a rough and vicious kiss that made
Luke’s blood race. Tryg knew because he could feel the
man’s response under his lips, and hear it with his ears.
His senses were on full alert and he went with it, forcing
his tongue into Luke’s mouth, stroking the young man’s
tongue into submission with his own.

‘Tryg –’
Tryg sealed off the words with another deep kiss. This

would be the time, he thought. It wasn’t just a thought, he
realised as he ran his hands up the slippery terrain of
Luke’s wet arms, it was a worry. It was a fear. He waited
for the boy to ask him to shift and then fuck him. Or shift
and let him ride him. Or shift and bite him. Whatever his
secret fetish was that had led him to intervene with Tryg
and Ozric at the bar.

Luke broke free. Tryg steeled himself. It was coming.

He was going to ask.

‘Please, make me come,’ was all Luke said. His eyes

were open and honest and perfect, and Tryg swallowed
hard around some big, thick wad of emotion in his throat.

His hands wanted to shake as he worked his button and

his fly, but he refused to let them. He took a steadying
breath to tame his traitorous hands.

‘We don’t have time,’ Tryg said. But even as he said it,

he pressed them belly to belly, Luke’s wet skin kissing
the dry skin of Tryg’s abdomen. Inside, his gut felt like he
was in freefall. That’s what this kid did to him.

He grasped them together in one hand and watched

Luke watching him.

‘Your hands are huge,’ Luke whispered, the breath

rushing out of him with a sigh of pleasure.

‘It’s a shifter thing,’ Tryg said.
Luke barely moved, but Tryg felt his shy yet eager

thrusts up so they were nestled cock to cock inside his
clenching, sliding fist. This was going to last about six
seconds. Luke made him feel like a teenager with a hair
trigger. Maybe he should start doing math in his head, or
silently sing a Lady Gaga song. Something to irritate
himself. He realised that wasn’t going to happen when
Luke put his hands on Tryg’s shoulders as if to steady

himself – keep him tethered to earth. His long fingers bit
into the meat of Tryg’s muscles and he felt that runaway
ball of fire feeling in his gut that signified orgasm. His
made his fist tighter, his motions wilder. He leant in,
nipping at the stubble along Luke’s jaw. It was the colour
of wheat and his skin tasted like salt and man and soap.

‘Good, good, good …,’ Luke was muttering, and his

body moved up and then forward. He was a surge of
muscle and wet skin, and Tryg studied the way his head
fell back just a bit, exposing the soft, vulnerable meat of
his throat as he got closer and closer to coming.

‘Yes, good,’ Tryg growled, pushing his face to that

sweet spot. The place where jaw and neck became a
pounding patch of skin covering a pulse just below the
ear. He licked and bit gently and Luke made a noise – a
noise Tryg recognised – and he squeezed them together
harder, the friction unbearable. Luke thrust up and
forward, meeting Tryg’s body with his own need and
urgency. His toes flexed on the plush red bathmat as he
stood on tiptoe for a heartbeat, and his shaking hands
pushed down on Tryg’s shoulders as if hanging on for
dear life.

‘Come with me, little rabbit,’ Tryg laughed and then

simply gave up the ghost of his control. He gave in and let
his body take over.

Luke obeyed him. They came at almost the exact same

time and it was a warm white mess of come and laughter
and another kiss.

‘We have to fucking go.’ Tryg pushed his forehead to

Luke’s. Watching his eyes as they crinkled at the corners
from a happy smile.

He’s goddamned breathtaking is what he is …
He shook the thought off, swatted Luke on the ass, and

found his pants. ‘Now. We have to go now. Now, before

anything else happens to distract me.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Luke asked, drying his hair.

‘Your feelings for your pack –’

‘Pride.’
‘Right, sorry.’ He grinned. ‘They’re off. You feel –

other. You don’t feel like one of them. Shunned.’

‘Because I am shunned,’ Tryg said.
‘So why do this?’
‘Because it’s what I am. It’s what I do. And I’ll do it

until I find something else I’m meant to do.’

‘Like me?’ Luke asked, laughing.
He was trying to cheer Tryg up. It almost worked.
‘Maybe. You are …’ He shook his head.
‘What?’
‘A mind-fuck. Now get dressed before I come over

there and bend you over and fuck you hard.’

He meant it to sound gruff; it sounded wistful.
‘And that’s supposed to be incentive to get dressed?’

Luke asked.

Tryg retreated. ‘How about please?’ he said.
‘That I’ll take. Something tells me you rarely say that.’
‘Something tells you right.’

They were on the road to Topaz Lake by the time the sun
breached the purple-pink sky.

Chapter Seven

It was a 30-minute trip and Tryg could feel Luke studying
him. He sipped coffee out of the travel mug, wished he’d
eaten breakfast, caught diner scents on the wind, and
promised himself they’d eat breakfast before leaving for
real. Finally, he couldn’t pretend not to notice any more.

‘What is it?’
Luke reached out to touch his cheek. He’d shaved

before leaving the house, but he heard the rough stubble
move restlessly under Luke’s touch.

‘I thought you’d have more hair.’
Tryg snorted. ‘Did you now? Why is that?’
‘You’re a lion.’
‘So you expected wild, waving puffs of hair? A mane,

perhaps?’ He grinned so hard it hurt his face. It made him
nervous, feeling happy.

‘Perhaps,’ Luke said. He turned away, and Tryg caught

the scent of heightened blood. Luke was blushing, he was
embarrassed.

Now he felt like a shit. Tryg caught his hand up and

squeezed. ‘Hey, no big deal. You don’t know what you’re
dealing with until you’re dealing with it, right? You
probably hear a lot of rumours about my kind.’

‘Yeah, some.’ Luke’s fingers twisted around Tryg’s

and he squeezed.

‘Like we live in animal form almost all the time.’
‘Mostly.’

‘False. Usually, we only shift when we need to or

really want to for some reason. We are very much men
and women who happen to have the ability to shift to
animal form.’

‘What animal is the most prevalent?’
Tryg felt Luke relax. His body went loose, his

breathing evened out. He felt better; the kid wasn’t tense
any more. He turned the Thunderbird with his left hand as
he continued to squeeze Luke’s hand with the right. ‘No
single animal wins that race. There are lions and tigers
and bears …’ He smiled.

‘Oh my!’ Luke whispered.
‘Exactly. There are wolves, of course. There are bird

shifters and reptile shifters and –’

‘I heard some shifters can just shift – into anything,’

Luke said.

‘True. Their DNA is more fluid, more forgiving than

most of ours. Most of us have a single animal we can
transform into. That animal is part of our DNA. It’s like
looking like your mom but having your dad’s double
joints. We’re human but we can shift into a lion. So – the
ones who can just shift, they’re considered rare and
special. Their DNA kind of takes orders, if you will.’

‘Like “hey, body, today I’ll be an alligator”?’ Luke

chuckled.

‘Right.’ Tryg turned on to the lake road. ‘But me, I’m

just a man. I tend to like my meat a bit more raw, I don’t
really like wearing clothes if it’s not a must.’ He winked.
Parking by the lake, he put the car in park and cut the
engine. ‘I like to fuck my guy from behind more often
than not.’

He smelled the blood in Luke’s cheek again. He was

blushing once more. But this time it was a good blush,
and it made Tryg laugh even as he climbed out of the car

to try and catch the scent of the missing girl. For this he’d
have to shift.

‘You gonna turn away?’ he asked, unbuttoning his

jeans.

‘Do you want me to?’ Luke asked.
Tryg realised the offer was sincere and snorted. What

planet had this guy come from? Most non-shifters he
fucked were all about seeing it happen. It was a time to
gawk and observe. So they could report back to their
friends later about what it was like. A freak show.

‘I – hadn’t thought about it,’ Tryg said. It was a lie.
Luke reached in the back seat and shoved his hand into

his duffle. When he pulled out a bandanna, Tryg blinked.
‘Here. You can blindfold me if you like. I don’t think
you’re a freak. I don’t want to stare at you and see the
sideshow. I just want to be here with you.’

Tryg swallowed hard. Something akin to anger washed

over him. A knee-jerk reaction that this kid had him
pegged so well. ‘It’s fine,’ he growled.

Luke didn’t touch him, but his voice went lower. ‘I

mean it, Tryg. I can feel that frustrated rage and hurt
inside you. I’d eat this bandanna before I’d make you feel
that way because of something I did.’

Tryg turned away from the open car door. His eyes

stung and his throat was tight. Goddamn it. This was not a
good time to feel all Dr Phil. ‘It’s fine. Do what you
want,’ he said. He tried to keep his voice neutral. He
failed.

Then he dropped his jeans, shucked his shirt, and let

himself shift the same way some people let themselves
take a deep breath when they were about to undertake
something difficult. The world muffled and he was all
intention and purpose. His nose picked up a mélange of
scents. He had to find the scent of his own kind and then

follow it.

Virgil, a member of his pride, stepped out and waved a

bit of cloth at him. A sock. Tryg smelled it, and then went
back to the scent of the group. He smelled more than one
lion. Four or five, all intertwined. Pot smoke and booze
and laughter and some fear. He smelled the scent of two
of them running away from the others in a way that led to
the access road. That trail of scent was mixed with motor
oil and gasoline. A car. One of the scents that broke from
the cluster matched the smell on the sock.

They’d been pulled from the group or they’d left.

Either way, Abigail and, he assumed, Dinah, were on the
road. Against their will or willingly.

Tryg shifted back, lazily moseying to his car to give

the kid a show. Every dramatic reveal should end with a
bang. What he found startled him. Luke had tied the
bandanna around his own head to block his vision.

‘What’s this? Some kind of sex game?’ Virgil asked,

laughing.

Thank God they’d sent him. Or maybe his friend had

volunteered. They’d gotten along fine since they were
young and seeing Virgil waiting for him to help had made
it a bit easier to breathe. ‘No. I don’t know. He wanted
to – protect my privacy,’ Tryg said, shaking his head in
amazement.

‘Wow, for real? No gawking? Will wonders never

fucking cease.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Tryg said, buttoning his fly.
‘You smell happy when you talk about him,’ Virgil

said, handing Tryg the piece of cloth. Tryg shoved it in
his pocket.

‘Stop smelling me, dude.’
‘So let me get this straight, you fuck him but he

doesn’t want to see you shift?’

Tryg eyed the boy and grinned. ‘I guess not.’ It was

more than that, but he didn’t feel like explaining it all. He
wrapped the hood of the car and Luke jolted. ‘You can
take the blindfold off now,’ he yelled.

He watched Luke’s thin fingers work the fabric and his

cock stirred in response. He wanted those fingers wrapped
around him. He wanted to feel Luke’s skin against his
skin and kiss those pink, soft lips and take that warm,
tight ass – again.

‘Earth to pervert, your pheromones are off the charts.

Point that lust in another direction,’ Virgil said.

‘Sorry,’ Tryg said. His eyes had wandered to watch

Luke pulling the red bandanna off his eyes. He imagined
what it would be like to put that bandanna back over those
big blue eyes, but under different circumstances.

‘Where’d you get him?’ Virgil leant against the car. He

was grinning. Normally that would have irritated the shit
out of Tryg, but today, he didn’t care.

‘Bar. He stopped me from fighting.’
‘With what? A bazooka?’ Virgil’s eyebrows shot up.

His long, blond hair blew around his face, covering his
whiskey-coloured eyes for a minute. He looked very
much like the stereotypical lion shifter.

‘Words. He just talked to me. And I stopped.’
Virgil studied his boots. ‘Ah, you found yourself a

lion-hearted one.’

‘A what?’
Virgil laughed, shook his head. ‘Didn’t you ever pay

attention around the campfire? They’re reported to be
super rare and often drawn to the – um …’ He cleared his
throat.

‘Spit it out, Virgil.’
‘The more difficult of us.’
‘Ah, that fits. And what do these magical lion-hearted

ones do?’ Tryg wasn’t buying it.

‘Nothing. They soothe. They often mate. They bring a

missing piece to a raging beast. You really didn’t pay
attention, did you?’

‘Guess not. He says he’s an empath,’ he said softly. He

felt, watching Luke through the windshield, such a sudden
rush of affection it made his heart hurt.

‘I knew I was forgetting something. That’s why

they’re drawn to you pain in the ass types. They can feel
your pain and wish to heal your heart.’

Tryg rolled his eyes, but part of what his friend was

saying felt true. ‘Yeah, yeah. He’s going to heal my tiny,
mangled black heart. Whatever. Off we go. We have to
hunt this girl down in case she’s in the hands of those
whackadoodles who think that shifter blood during a
sacrifice will bring them all their shrivelled, evil souls
have ever wanted and then some. I’ll keep in touch.’

Virgil clapped him on the back, turned, and saluted

Luke, yelling through the thick glass, ‘Good luck, kid!
You’re gonna need it.’

Tryg climbed into the car, flipping Virgil the bird on

the way.

‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ Luke said.
‘You really didn’t look?’
‘Of course not.’
Tryg shook his head, turning off the lake road toward

the highway. ‘What?’ Luke asked.

‘Nothing. You’re just – something.’
‘Good something or bad something?’ Luke asked.
‘Good. Definitely good.’ Tryg found the highway,

turned up the music, and touched Luke’s leg. He hadn’t
felt this free in a long time. Maybe ever.

Chapter Eight

They’d stopped at a diner for breakfast, Luke putting
down three pancakes, a side of bacon, and fruit. Tryg
devoured a short stack, three eggs, ham, bacon, and
sausage, fruit, cottage cheese, and a cinnamon roll. Come
to think of it, he was still hungry. Then they’d stopped at
the neighbouring convenience store for a cooler, ice,
sodas, juice, water, snacks, and six or seven bags of beef
jerky. Tryg believed in being prepared. He only needed
one bag for clothes and personal items, but above all else
he’d need food.

‘So that’s all it takes?’ Luke cracked a cold soda.
‘That’s all what takes?’ Tryg was headed north. Why

did it always seem the dark magic types who were after
shifters as if they were trophies to mount on the wall
always lived north? Did cold make you crazy?

The satellite radio switched to a song by The Sisters of

Mercy, and Tryg went to turn it up before catching
himself. He was used to blocking people out, one way or
the other. But with Luke, he didn’t want to do that. Not at
all.

Luke nodded to the window, drinking his cola.

‘Keeping it cracked so you can pick up the scent trail?’

Tryg shrugged. ‘Mostly. Look, I honed this skill,

though. I don’t want you thinking we can all track people
from a speeding car by leaving the window cracked.’

‘So no?’

‘No.’ Tryg laughed. He had a brief flash of Luke with

a red bandanna across his eyes and pushed it away. No
time for that.

‘So do you think this girl was really taken as …?’

Luke winced, finished his drink, and put the can in an
empty plastic bag. ‘A sacrifice.’

‘Maybe. All we know for sure is she’s gone under odd

circumstances. Maybe some full moon or new moon or
yellow moon or whatever these people believe in is
coming up for them. Shifters being what we are, we worry
about those who would love to use shifter blood in a
sacrifice. Most of the magic users around here have
adapted spells to use plants or intentions or something
benign they come up with as the sacrifice. Some still
believe in the old ways of using animals. But they honour
the animal first. It’s a select crazy bunch who have taken
“animal” and ramped it up to using those of us who
qualify as both. Select crazy bunch, but still existent,
sadly. That’s where I come in. If she was taken for such a
purpose, I need to find her.’

‘And if she just ran away?’
Tryg thought that over. He’d wanted to run away more

than once himself. ‘I guess I’d need her to tell me that
herself and explain why. Then I’d decide. I tend to run on
animal instinct more than human rules.’

‘I figured.’ Luke laughed. ‘Hungry?’
‘Always.’
‘Beef jerky?’ He turned and rummaged through a bag,

his tee lifting ever so slightly above his hip bone. Tryg
studied the tanned strip of flesh and felt a different kind of
hunger when he looked at that vulnerable skin.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But the next pit stop we have to

make –’

Luke dropped the bag of opened beef jerky in Tryg’s

lap. ‘I’m getting on my knees for you,’ he said, simply.

That shut Tryg up. Few things did.

He learnt that Luke had come from a broken family and
the remainder of family wished to break him. A strict
Catholic institution, his family was, and being gay – being
himself – meant a ticket straight to hell. His father had
beat him on that final night. He’d come over to talk him
out of his life choices. That had been that. Luke had
packed a bag, gathered what little money he had, and left
the house without looking back.

‘Because if my mother just stood there while he did it,

she really wasn’t in my corner, now was she?’ He sighed.
His fingers tripped and tickled over a hole in the knee of
his jeans. Watching him do that made Tryg feel two
things simultaneously. Arousal and affection. He wanted
to fuck Luke again just because he remembered what it
felt like fucking him the last time. Good. Better than
good. Perfect. He wanted to hug sweet Luke to him and
brush back his hair because it hurt his heart to think of
anyone being able to inflict pain on this man. Especially
someone who was supposed to love him and protect him.

Like a father.
‘What a fucking mess,’ he said.
‘Exactly.’ Luke shrugged. ‘But even when I was young

I believed everything happened for a reason. I believed
more in divine purpose than a big-ass dude with a white
beard on a throne in the sky.’ He winked.

‘Ah, another reason to shoot you straight to hell.’ Tryg

laughed.

‘Right.’ Luke shifted. ‘Can we get out soon? I need to

walk. My legs are killing me being all bent up and cooped
and whatnot.’

‘Sure thing. We need gas anyway.’ Tryg’s stomach

rolled over, dipped, swooped, and went light. This was
their first pit stop. He remembered what Luke had said …
He shook it off. No time. They really, really needed to
keep on the road and catch up with the girls. Whether they
were running on their own or had been snagged against
their will.

The first exit brought them to a gas station, mini-strip-

mall combo deal. It was mid-afternoon, but the place was
damn near deserted. When Tryg pulled up to the pumps,
Luke shook his head and laughed. ‘Spooky much? It’s
like no one’s here.’

Tryg parked and turned the engine off. ‘It is in the

middle of nowhere. I guess that’s why. I’m gonna fill up.
You go stretch your legs.’

Though I’d rather stretch your legs around my waist as

I did you against one of those trees out there …

‘I felt that.’ Luke snorted.
Tryg looked up, startled. ‘What?’
‘That wave of lust that just slammed us both under.’

Luke poked himself in the chest and chuckled. ‘Em-path,’
he enunciated.

‘Look, kid, just because you can read my mind –’
‘I can’t read your mind. Thank goodness.’
‘Why thank goodness?’ Tryg opened the gas cap and

swiped his credit card to get the pump going.

‘I’d probably blush myself to death,’ Luke said.
Tryg grunted.
‘Don’t pout, big boy.’ Luke grinned. ‘If you could read

my mind, it would be the same way.’ Then he hustled off
toward the restrooms and the store part of the structure.
Tryg just watched him walk. Well-worn, busted-up jeans,
a blue T-shirt that was damn near threadbare along the
ridge of his spine. He had a feeling it had nothing to do
with being in fashion. Luke’s clothes were well worn

because he didn’t have a lot of money. They weren’t
“distressed” in the store, they were distressed by life.

‘What kind of father beats up his own fucking kid?’

Tryg growled, feeding the gas nozzle into the tank. He
watched the numbers roll by and let the sun shine on his
face. He could still smell the girls. Not strong, so they
hadn’t stopped here. But they had passed by. He knew by
his nose.

Tryg pulled the car to a parking spot and waited for

Luke. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, he
locked up and went to find the kid. He simply followed
his nose, something he tried not to rely on in normal life.
It felt like an unfair advantage.

Tryg found Luke leaning against a brick wall in a

breezeway. ‘Took you long enough.’ The crooked grin he
gave Tryg made the bigger man’s heart triphammer.

‘Trying to get us arrested?’
‘Nope. Not at all. But being cooped up in a car with

you and not touching you is hard, to say the least.’ Luke
chuckled.

Tryg nodded. ‘I concur.’
Luke looked away, his face going from crafty to shy.

Something about that subtle shift made Tryg tremble
down in the secret soft place in himself. The part of him
that wanted love, the part of him that craved affection. It
was a place he often hid from himself – a weakness in the
rock façade of his personality – but sometimes it broke
free.

Like now.
‘Then face me, if you will. And let me …’
Luke hooked his hand – the backs were freckled, Tryg

noticed – into Tryg’s waistband and tugged. He stumbled
forward, though he was so much bigger than Luke. Then
he gave in to the part of himself craving the contact, and

pushed his body flush against Luke’s. He crushed him to
the wall and kissed him for all he was worth. Sliding his
tongue in and out of Luke’s mouth, licking him the way
he wished he could lick other parts of him at the moment.

‘Let you what, little rabbit?’
‘Just let me …’ Luke didn’t finish. He sank to his

knees, working Tryg’s button fly. His hands found him
and squeezed. Tryg thought if he were to suddenly drop
dead, this is what he’d want to be doing. Getting head
from Luke.

‘What if they come?’ Tryg feathered his fingers

through Luke’s short, sandy hair. He brushed the silken
strands back and forth as the boy freed his cock and then
set his mouth to the tip of Tryg. All of his nerve endings
seemed to be focused on exactly where Luke’s mouth
touched him.

‘Don’t you have supersonic hearing, lion guy?’ Luke

asked. His lips brushed down one side of Tryg’s cock and
then swept back up, only to descend the other side. His
fingers insinuated themselves into Tryg’s boxers and
cupped his balls. Tryg let his eyes fall shut for just an
instant. Luke was right; he’d hear anyone who even
thought about coming down the breezeway.

He tried to maintain his control and his manners, but

failed, gripping Luke’s hair a bit tighter. Thrusting in and
out of his wet and willing mouth. Driving his cock down
over the soft suede of Luke’s tongue. ‘Jesus,’ he growled.

Anyone coming down the sidewalk would maybe think

he was peeing against the wall. His bulk completely
shielded Luke from view. Of course, they’d wonder why
he was thrusting his hips as he peed. Tryg drove a bit
deeper into Luke’s mouth. He wanted to really let go, but
knew he’d hurt him, and something about the urge to
buffer the boy from himself was touching. Even to a jerk

like him. He grunted, and it had nothing to do with the
stellar blowjob he was getting.

Luke squeezed his balls just enough to wake him up

again and suckled at the tip of his cock until Tryg thought
he might actually weep. When his guard was down, Luke
put his free hand on Tryg’s thigh, just resting it there
gently, curling his fingers softly against his skin. And that
was what made Tryg come. That gentle, trusting touch.
He emptied with a force that left spots in his vision and
more than one curse on his lips.

Luke looked up at him, big blue eyes shining with

amusement. Until Tryg jerked him up by his wrists and
turned him within the cage of his arms. He wedged one
hand down in Luke’s jeans and found his hard cock inside
soft cotton and denim. He dragged his fingernail over the
glans and felt a smear and slide of precome there. Luke
hissed, shaking in his arms. Tryg laughed softly and said,
‘Stand still, Rabbit.’

He pressed his teeth to the back of Luke’s neck. That

tender sweet spot where he could bite and possibly end
the young man’s life if he shifted. Luke knew it; he
shuddered with arousal and nerves. His blood was high,
invading Tryg’s sensitive sinus passages. It wouldn’t take
much. He could smell it coming off Luke’s skin. The
arousal, the need, the urgency.

Four quick jerks and a sharp nip of his teeth and Luke

was coming all over his hand. Gasping for air. Shivering
like he was cold even though the breezeway was speckled
with bright sunlight.

In the distance someone headed their way.
‘Let’s go, someone’s coming.’ Tryg put himself right

as Luke turned, faced flushed with blood.

‘Yeah, God … OK …’ He laughed.’ I have to go clean

up before we leave.’

‘Hurry,’ Tryg said and touched the boy’s face. ‘Next

time, it won’t be my hand on you. It’ll be my mouth.’

Luke opened his mouth, shut it again.
Tryg watched Luke’s face and sensed his hormones

shift and spike. Tryg grinned. You didn’t need to be an
empath to pick up on the emotions the kid was putting
out. ‘Go on,’ he said, smacking Luke’s ass. ‘Hurry up.’

Chapter Nine

It was a campground. And it was mobbed.

‘Does everyone go insane and go camping at the end

of the year?’ Tryg growled. He was prowling some of the
abandoned camps. There weren’t many.

Luke toed the ground. A piece of cloth here. A piece of

cloth there. Some ashes from a campfire, a can that didn’t
make it in the recycling receptacle. Tryg sniffed. ‘Pot,’ he
said.

‘Ah … Pot.’ Luke laughed.
Tryg raised an eyebrow. Kept looking.
‘Hey, I’m no boy scout. I’ll try anything once. Or

thrice,’ Luke said. ‘You – never?’

Tryg shook his head. ‘Nah. Any kind of smoke beyond

wood smoke messes with my senses. I can’t smell right.
So I tend to stick with good old fire water.’

‘You Native American?’ Luke laughed.
Tryg raised his gaze and dropped the twig he was

holding. ‘Actually, partially. That OK with you?’

Luke’s face fell, and Tryg felt like a dick. He hadn’t

meant to sound so harsh. It was second nature.

‘Of course I am,’ Luke said softly. ‘What kind of

question is that?’

Tryg blew out a sigh, stood, and walked toward the

trees. All the while he followed an invisible ribbon of
scent that said Abigail and Dinah had been here. Someone
had been afraid, but he couldn’t pinpoint who. The girls’

scents were all entangled and there were other scents that
clouded it all – pot, kerosene, lighter fluid. He shook his
head, sneezed. When he turned, Luke was watching him,
looking hurt. He’d had many times to look hurt since
they’d met, but hadn’t. Tryg knew he wasn’t the easiest
person to be around, even if the guy was attracted to him.
Even if he just wanted to fuck. It was amazing that Luke
hadn’t gotten his feelings hurt until now.

So he could fix it or he could just ignore it the way he

normally did.

A floodlight mounted on a nearby mobile home came

on and a guy’s head popped out. He eyed them with
suspicion until Tryg raised a hand and said, ‘Evening, sir.
Can we stop by and ask you a few questions later? We’re
trying to find some missing girls …’

The guy looked shocked, then concerned. He gave a

brisk nod. ‘Yeah, but make it soon. The missus is ready to
go to bed.’

‘Will do,’ Tryg said with a nod.
He turned his attention to the young man who had

decided to take a random chance and come with him on
this trip. Luke had taken a chance on him all the way
around, Tryg knew. So now was the time to repay that
faith. ‘It’s the kind of question a self-conscious, angry,
worried, fearful, mean motherfucker asks a really nice
guy who is apparently cursed with the ability to sense his
emotions.’

Luke’s face softened. ‘I can sense that you’re telling

the truth.’ He laughed. He kept his voice very low, but
that was fine. Tryg could hear him as well as if he had his
lips pressed right up against his ear. ‘You don’t choose
who you love,’ Luke muttered, not looking at him.

Tryg pretended not to hear. That word was not in his

lexicon. He just attempted a smile and headed off toward

the mobile home. ‘Be right back. Want to show this guy
and his wife the girls’ pictures before they turn in at …
Oh …’ Tryg made a show of glancing at his watch. ‘Eight
p.m.’

That earned him a smile. When he realised how

relieved he was to see that smile, he felt worried all over
again. But he tried to stifle it, because apparently the lion-
hearted boy over there felt everything he felt. Even the
stuff Tryg didn’t recognise. The softer emotions – the
dangerous ones.

The man and his wife were no help. Him in boxers and

a wife-beater, smelling of beer and hope. He wanted to
get laid. The wife in her pink polyester nightgown
smelled of mouthwash and exhaustion. Meaning her man
wasn’t getting laid. Tryg had to stifle a laugh. He thanked
them for looking at the pictures of the girls on his phone
and gave them his cell number to call should they see
Abigail and Dinah after the couple disclosed they were
serial campers. They travelled the majority of the year in
their home on wheels, only going home to Ohio for the
hard winter months. Which as far as Tryg was concerned
was butt-fuck backwards, but who was he to judge?

‘Well?’ Luke asked. He leant against the Thunderbird

watching a volleyball game two campsites over.

‘Well, nothing. They didn’t see the girls. Nothing that

would raise suspicions. He wants to get laid, she’s too
tired. He’s not getting laid. Poor guy.’

‘What about us?’ Luke asked, rubbing his forehead.
Tryg sniffed at the kid and picked up on weakness.

‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’
‘Fine how?’
Luke snorted. ‘How many versions of fine are there?’
‘Many.’ Tryg pushed his hand in Luke’s hair and

pulled him in for a brief kiss. ‘Now, let’s try again. Are
you OK?’

‘Yep. Just a headache.’
‘Must be a doozy. You smell off.’
‘Gee. Thanks. What every guy wants to hear.’ Luke

grinned, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

‘You know what I mean. Let me get you to a motel

and you can take a shower, an aspirin. Get some food.’

Luke nodded. No sex jokes, no flirting, no nothing

other than docile agreement and a stifled yawn. It worried
Tryg. Was Luke exhausted from the trip or from feeling
Tryg’s fucked-up feelings, or was it just a normal, run of
the mill headache?

‘Sounds good.’ Luke climbed in and let Tryg shut the

door for him.

They headed back out toward the highway, Tryg

following the signs for food and lodging. If he could get
lucky they’d have them all together. A motel with a
dining room or a diner attached.

They did get lucky, in the form of the Shamrock

Bungalow Motel and Eatery. Score!

‘In,’ Tryg said, yanking Luke’s tee over his head.

The shower hissed and spit a bit, but the flow was

good and the water was hot enough that steam was rolling
on the air already. The tiny bathroom was getting steamy,
feeling smaller than it actually was. The fact that Tryg
had the almost insurmountable urge to lick the muscles in
Luke’s back as he raised his arms didn’t help any.

He let Luke shuck his own jeans, but did pause to

admire the severely biteable terrain of his ass. He shook
his head, clenched his fists, took three big steps back so
that he didn’t grab the man and start kissing him. Luke
was clearly tired, possibly in pain, and hungry. His

stomach rumbled every 30 seconds or so. Which made
Tryg’s stomach growl like a beast.

Luke climbed in, put his head against the wall. Now

Tryg was really starting to worry. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he
said.

In the trunk of the Thunderbird was a first aid kit.

Something he’d rarely, if ever need, but good to have on
hand in case of an emergency. Shifters ran hot, healed
fast, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a
headache. ‘Good,’ he growled. ‘That means that stupid
aspirin stuff will be in here.’

He pawed through bandages, antiseptic wipes, an ACE

bandage; finally found a few paper packets of painkillers.
He even remembered to check the expiration date. ‘Still
good. And FYI, it’s scary you remembered to check the
date, and scarier that you’re talking to yourself, dumbass.’

He hurried back in after grabbing a cold soda from the

half-full cooler in the back seat. ‘Here you go!’ Tryg
rushed in and found Luke washing his hair, soap running
down his back. It put his blood up and made his dick hard.
But now was not the time.

Big blue eyes turned to him and studied the packet of

pain reliever and the soda. ‘Thanks.’ Luke swallowed the
pills with a few big gulps of soda. Tryg watched Luke’s
throat muscles work, resisted the urge to touch his neck,
his chest, his belly. Lower.

Tryg watched him. Even though he was starving. Even

though it was hot as balls in the steamy bathroom. Even
though …

‘Don’t worry,’ Luke said, smiling. ‘I’ll be fine. And

it’s normal.’

‘You having a raging headache all of a sudden and

seeming weakened is normal?’

Luke shook his head, handed the soda back. ‘No. Not

that. That’s not normal. I don’t know if the pills will even
help. What I mean is us. Feeling what you’re feeling is
normal. When you make a connection, you feel things
very fast. We made a connection.’

Tryg felt his walls go up like magic. He crossed his

arms and hmphed. ‘What makes you so sure?’

‘I feel it.’ Luke didn’t look at him. He pushed his face

up into the hot spray. Tryg could see the tension still in
his muscles. He was still hurting. ‘And Tryg?’ Luke said
as Tryg turned away.

‘What?’ He almost growled it. He didn’t like being

told what he felt, even if it was accurate.

‘You don’t have to acknowledge it or trust it or even

believe it’s possible. But it is and, eventually, I guess, it
won’t piss you off. I’m not going anywhere, unless you
make me.’

Funny, his mother had said that and then she’d died.

His father said that and then left when he’d found a new
mate. His ex had said that and then he’d decided he
wasn’t so sure. His pride had said that – a group acting as
one – but they’d pushed him off too. Tryg had very little
faith in meant to be or promises.

‘Got it. What do you want to eat?’ he asked, his voice

a rough reminder of his anger.

‘Anything. I’m not very hungry.’
‘You need to eat. I can smell it on you,’ Tryg said. The

worry had reappeared, which amped up the rage, which
made him sound like a domineering asshole every time he
opened his mouth.

‘I know. Get me whatever you think is best.’
Jesus. Now he was blindly trusting him again. This

guy was killing him. Tryg turned on his heels and left
Luke in the shower, head pressed to the cool tile.

Chapter Ten

He came back with six cheeseburgers, about two pounds
of fries, a huge salad, half a pie, a jug of iced tea that the
diner worker had made up for him special. He’d promised
to return the jug to her in the morning after explaining his
travel companion was sick and he wanted to take back a
lot of fluids. There were also some rolls, crackers, and
chocolate chip cookies that she’d insisted on packing for
the invalid.

‘You need meat,’ he said when he entered the room.

Luke looked up from the bed where he sat tangled in a
cheap, thin blanket. ‘And by meat I do not mean penis. I
mean these burgers that smell good enough to kill me.’

Tryg set the loot on the motel room table, one ear on

the news that was playing on the ancient TV. He grabbed
one of the Styrofoam plates the diner lady had packed and
set out a burger, fries, and a cookie for Luke. He poured
iced tea into a cup she’d slipped in the bag and asked,
‘Salad too?’

Luke eyed the plate and shook his head. ‘I doubt I’ll

get through that.’ His laugh was forced, and real worry
spiked in Tryg’s gut.

He pushed it away.
‘Well, don’t worry. Whatever you don’t eat, I will. She

loaded us up. Hell, this might even get me through to
morning.’ His laughter at his own weak joke was forced
too. The sigh that slipped out of his lips irritated the shit

out of him, but there it was.

He sat on the bed and presented the plate. As good as

the meat smelled, he wasn’t eating until the kid talked to
him. ‘What’s up, Rabbit?’

That was swiftly becoming Luke’s nickname. Tryg

liked it. The boy was gentle and kind and adorable, but
there was also the cheese factor of him being a lion and
willing, ready, and able to eat Luke up like a snack.

‘Just a headache is all.’
Tryg grabbed the kid’s leg, making Luke jump. ‘Tell

me. Look, not to be an asshole, but you don’t need to be
some kind of magical empath to tell something’s going
on. Just fucking tell me, OK? I have enough people
pushing –’ He bit off the end of that sentence. He’d had
no intention of saying it.

‘Say it,’ Luke said. He took a small bite of the burger.

It was almost laughable, that bite, Tryg thought.

‘Nothing.’
‘You’ve had enough of people pushing you away. I

don’t blame you,’ Luke said softly.

‘Yes, well, then don’t be another jerk in a long parade

of jerks. Tell me what’s going on. Listen, if we’re going
to travel and fuck and share our feelings and all that
happy, fuzzy shit …’ Tryg growled, rising to make his
own plate. It gave him something to do. ‘Then at least
have the decency to tell me what’s going on. I do not
think it’s just a headache.’

When his plate was piled high and his cup was filled to

the brim, he stilled. He could feel Luke watching him.
‘What?’

‘Come sit,’ Luke said, and patted the bed. He took

another ridiculously small nibble of burger and waited.

Tryg stomped over, sat down hard enough to shake the

whole bed and rattle some fries off Luke’s plate. Childish,

but so be it. He stared Luke down, more embarrassed than
anything that he’d blurted out his true feelings. While
their eyes met, he ate half a cheeseburger in one bite.

Luke laughed, his blue eyes crinkling, his hand flying

up to cover his mouth. He laughed and laughed and then
he laughed some more. At first Tryg was not amused, but
then he started to laugh too.

‘Boy, you are fierce, eh?’ Luke said.
‘Oh, shut up,’ Tryg snorted. He finished the burger and

licked his fingers. Then he patted Luke’s leg beneath the
blanket. ‘Now tell me what’s up.’

‘I have a headache.’
Tryg frowned. Ate a fistful of fries. Wiped his face.
‘A headache like I’ve never had,’ Luke said, taking

another small bite of his meal. ‘I think it’s got something
to do with what’s going on. Otherwise, honestly, I’d ask
you to take me to the hospital.’

Tryg sat up, put his plate down. ‘That bad?’ Concern

made his body tight and tense.

‘Yes, but it’s … There are flickers.’ Luke frowned.
‘Flickers. What the fuck are flickers? I mean, do you

think you’re stroking out or what? Do you need an ER?’

Luke smiled, then very gently ran his finger up and

down Tryg’s fingers. The subtle touch made Tryg shiver.
He tried to hide it, but knew the kid had caught it.

‘Nope. I need sleep. Food. You …?’
‘Me as a question?’
‘If you’re not too angry at me.’
‘I’m not angry at you!’ Tryg yelled. Then they were

laughing again. He felt like a jackass. But somehow Luke
made being a jackass OK. ‘Sorry. I don’t just yell when
I’m angry. I yell when I’m excited, pissed, and frustrated
too.’ Tryg bit into a fresh burger. ‘Basically, I just yell.
Now explain flickers.’

‘I keep seeing things.’
‘Like hallucinations?’ Now he was really concerned.

The burger turned to sawdust in his mouth.

‘No. Like – of the girls. Wherever they are. I’m seeing

bits and pieces of –’

‘Abby and Dinah?’ Tryg asked, sitting up straighter.
‘I think so. I can only assume. There are three men and

three women. Someone, one of them, maybe both of
them, but one for certain is very upset. And panicky. And
I keep picking up on that.’

‘What can I do?’ Tryg asked.
Luke shrugged. ‘Nothing, I don’t think. I have no idea.

This has never happened.’

‘Jesus.’ Tryg rubbed his eyes. ‘So no aspirin or food or

blowjobs are going to help.’ He chuckled.

‘Now hold on …’ Luke trailed off, laughing. He

shrugged. ‘I feel like it’s getting better. Just a bit. Maybe
it will pass.’ He rubbed his head, then his eyes opened.
‘Or maybe this is why.’ He pointed to the crappy TV that
kept getting fuzzy and then rolling.

‘This is Marilyn Santoni live at the Pann Trailer Park

here in chilly Pennsylvania.’ The reporter gave a huge,
white smile to the viewers and pushed her hair back
nonchalantly as a gust of wind blew it across her face and
her mic. ‘We’re reporting live as to a question of a
possible Satanic ritual here in this cosy mom and pop way
station for weary travellers.’

‘Jesus, ham it up much?’ Tryg said, but he was paying

attention.

‘There was a fire – still smoking, Rod – found on the

site, along with some animal bones and flesh and fur.’

‘What makes authorities think it’s anything beyond a

hunter preparing his kill?’ Rod asked, very smartly, from
the studio. He stared at the screen over his thick-framed

glasses. They were intended to make him look über-smart.
In Tryg’s opinion, they failed.

‘Well, the strange symbols drawn in blood and the fact

that the –’ Marilyn wavered here ‘– meat of the animal
was found untouched.’

‘Anything else you can tell us about this breaking

story, Marilyn?’

‘Just that witnesses did report chanting, dancing, and

the screams of a woman being heard. When people started
to appear and check on the noise the travellers packed up
and fled the scene. The trailer park owners had called the
police, but the authorities missed the suspects. The licence
plates recorded for the vehicle were actually stolen from
an 87-year-old Maryland man who is currently in the
hospital for pneumonia. Back to you, Rod.’

Rod nodded and turned to the camera. ‘Up next on

Channel Seven, our own chef Stila Blue shows you four
ways to make shrimp for your weeknight dinner. Fast,
easy, delicious.’

‘Well thanks for the cracking news, Rod.’ Tryg sighed.

‘So they are doing something. They’re either crazy and
think they’re magical or they are the real deal. Either way,
sounds like they’re offering sacrifices and the girls could
be next.’

The colour had returned to Luke’s face and he was

eating with a bit more gusto. Tryg cocked his head,
studied him. ‘Better?’

‘Yes. Better. I think Dinah’s in more trouble than the

other girl. Not sure why I think that.’

‘She’s not the one with the rich daddy. She’s also not

the one who’s about to shift for the first time. Dinah’s a
year older than Abigail. She already shifts.’

Luke shrugged. ‘Like I said, I don’t know why. I could

be wrong. I’ve never had this happen. I’m an empath. I

pick up on people’s feelings when I’m with them if I let
my guard down. Most people I can ignore or block. You, I
couldn’t. There was a connection between us that went
beyond just my empathic abilities. But this … This is new
to me. I’ve never had …’ He shrugged. ‘For lack of a
better word, I guess I’d say visions.’

Tryg grunted, finished his second burger. ‘What a

mind-fuck this week is turning out to be.’

He felt Luke’s hand snake up his calf and when he

looked up the boy was grinning. ‘Now, about this blowjob
you mentioned.’

Chapter Eleven

He tasted like salt and sugar, Tryg thought. He licked over
the flat of Luke’s belly and watched the well-toned
muscles there dance for him. He dragged his fingers over
the very tops of Luke’s thighs. He kept his touch as light
as an oaf like him could manage. It seemed to work,
because Luke gasped and muttered something that
sounded like “tickles”.

He wanted to just drive his mouth down on Luke’s

cock. Make him feel good. Make him come. But he was
controlling himself to draw the whole thing out. For both
of them. His cock pressed hard and ready to Luke’s leg
and he had to remind himself that he was not fucking him.
Not tonight. The kid was exhausted and so was Tryg, and
just because he wanted to fuck him, didn’t mean he had
to. Sometimes you had to practice a little fucking self-
restraint.

So of course he caved and drove his mouth down over

the tip of Luke’s cock, tasting the salt and soap of his skin
and that underlying sugary sweetness that reminded him
of raw honey. He sucked hard enough to prevent Luke’s
hip from rising up off the bed. The younger man’s hips
thrust up, his hands clenching into fists in the bedsheets.

‘I never thought you’d –’ Luke broke off, tossed his

head, tried to relax his body as Tryg pushed his lips lower
on his cock.

Tryg paused, pressing his hands to Luke’s thighs,

effectively pinning him to the bed with no hope of escape
while he brushed his open mouth up one side of the boy’s
cock and down the other. Luke started to tremble.

‘Never thought I’d what?’ he prompted, licking a soft

line around the glans only. He pressed his tongue to the
small divot in the tip of Luke’s cock and waited for him to
answer.

All the while Tryg’s fingers swept back and forth, back

and forth over the tops of his thighs.

‘Go down on me.’ Luke sounded embarrassed.
‘What? Why?’ Tryg dragged the tip of his tongue up

the very back of Luke’s cock, tracing the thick vein that
resided there. He inhaled the thumping blood and aroused
scent that filled the room. His hips moved gently back and
forth against the resistance of the bed and Luke’s leg.
He’d get off, he just wouldn’t fuck him.

Would. Not. Fuck. Him.
He had to keep reminding himself of that.
Luke craned his head, his cheeks blazing with blush.

‘Some guys who are so – alpha, is that an OK word?’

Tryg groaned. Moved his fingers so that he knew damn

well he was tickling Luke. He enjoyed it when it made
Luke jump.

‘What about them? And for the record, halfway

through a bj is not the time to bring up other guys.’

‘Sorry. I just … Sometimes they are just not into –

giving. Just receiving.’

‘Then they’re assholes. Alpha, beta, or candlestick

maker.’ He shut the conversation down by lowering his
mouth back to his new lover’s hard-on and sucking it hard
enough to make his cheeks ache.

‘Jesus,’ Luke said. ‘Fuck.’ He wiggled and moved his

hips, showing with his body how out of control he felt.

Tryg relished it, that feeling of having provoked such

blissful discord. Then he shoved his middle fingers deep
into Luke and thrust like he was fucking him.

‘I’m tired.’ Luke sighed. ‘And horny. And every time I

look at you I want you,’ he blurted.

Tryg felt his throat tighten, his eyes prickle, his chest

ache some. ‘And?’

‘And I’m not going to last much longer.’
That was all he needed to say, really, and Tryg felt his

traitorous throat grow even tighter. ‘That’s fine. You do
what you need to do, Rabbit.’

Luke pushed his cock into Tryg’s mouth. He threaded

his fingers into Tryg’s hair, and whispered something.

‘What, Rabbit?’ He almost hated the tenderness in his

voice. But not enough to stop stroking Luke’s dick with
his fist or swiping small slick swipes along Luke’s tip
with his tongue.

‘I said come with me. Will you come with me?’
Will. Not. Fuck. Him …
‘Sure.’ He pushed his jeans and boxers down and

found his own cock insanely hard. He squeezed once,
twice, and gritted his teeth against the urge to just get off
immediately. Tryg got on his knees and leant over to suck
Luke back into the wet recesses of his mouth. The boy
thrust up with short, eager jerks of his hips. He pushed up
enough to make the muscles in his arms stand out.

‘Tryg,’ he muttered.
That one small word almost undid him. He jerked his

cock with near brutality, as if he were punishing himself.
When he tasted the first sweet, salty jet of Luke on his
tongue, Tryg groaned. The rumble worked through Luke
because he cried out, thrusting up once more hard as he
emptied fully. The metallic saltwater taste of him pushed
Tryg past the point of no return. He sat up, licking his lips
and pumping his cock again, hard, so that his come

splashed white, shiny patterns on Luke’s flat belly.

Their eyes met and Luke reached for him. Tryg fell on

top of him, almost feeling bad as he heard the air rush out
of Luke. But then Luke was licking himself off Tryg's
lips, kissing him hard, holding him close and Tryg – for
the first time in ages – felt there was nothing at all to feel
bad about.

Fuck. How had morning come so fast? Tryg pushed up
and ran a hand over his face. Luke was curled on his side,
wrapped in cheap motel bedding and looking good
enough to eat. Tryg studied the small dapples of sunlight
on the kid’s back. Pretty. He touched each spot gently,
tracing them like the markings on a leopard.

Luke groaned and rolled but didn’t wake.
They had to get on the road soon. They had to find the

Pann campground and go look around. Or in his case,
sniff around. There was so much written about shifters, he
wished half of it was true. He wished that, like so many of
them in the movies or the books, he had special powers
and could just barrel down the highway on instinct to find
the girls. Instead, he had to stop and investigate and smell.
Jesus, to be really accurate, he’d have to shift and hope
that Luke could protect him from prying eyes if need be.

Another sigh, another quick hand through his hair, and

a yawn, and Tryg padded to the bathroom. The room was
bare bones, old school, no-tell motel, but the bathroom
was clean and the water was hot. A good spray, even, he
noted, climbing in and pulling the curtain shut.

They could hit the Pann campground and look around.

Try to figure which way the freaks took the girls. Maybe
get a clear scent of not only captives but captors. With
any luck they’d be calling Abigail’s dad and the pride
with good news in a few short hours.

‘I hope. Jesus, I hope she’s not dead,’ he growled,

soaping up a second time and rinsing off. He needed
nothing in his nose but the scents he was trying to pick
up. He carried plain, non-allergenic, unscented soap with
him when he travelled. It smelled like nothing and that
was how Tryg needed it.

‘Who’s not dead?’ Luke asked, poking his head into

the shower.

‘Jesus!’ Tryg roared, nearly dropping the soap. ‘How

did I not hear you coming?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe you were too busy talking to

yourself?’ He grinned. When he stepped inside, utterly
naked, Tryg’s cock responded as fast as his heart. One
thundered, the other rose up to salute the boy.

‘I guess.’ Tryg tried to focus, but his eyes skittered

across Luke’s skin as readily as the water did.

Luke stepped forward, leant in to kiss him. ‘Is there

room here for me?’

‘Always.’
Tryg grabbed Luke’s hair. It was a bit shaggy, longer

than he’d ever wear his own hair, but a perfect rein to
hold on to. ‘Open your mouth,’ he rasped.

Luke obeyed and Tryg licked first his upper lip, then

his lower, and then drove his tongue into Luke’s mouth
with force. Force enough that Luke groaned and sank
against him, giving into the kiss. That was how he wanted
to drive his cock into this young man. But he had to focus.
Didn’t he? And Luke was still probably exhausted and not
a fuck toy and maybe even too tired to have sex … Right?

Luke ran his fingers down the firm ladder of Tryg’s

muscles and he felt himself almost shiver. Cool, long
fingers found his cock and wrapped around it. Maybe he
was wrong. Maybe Luke wanted to fuck. Maybe he would
oblige him … Who was he kidding? Of course he would.

Tryg pressed Luke’s back to the tile wall. ‘I’m really

trying to be a good guy here,’ he said, his lips pressed to
Luke’s neck. His pulse beat steadily against Tryg’s
mouth. He licked that skin, smelled that blood, tasted the
signature flavour of his new lover – salty and sweet.

‘That’s good, do you think? Not giving me what I

want?’

Luke stroked steadily up and down Tryg’s erection. To

still his hand so he could think, Tryg pressed his body
firmly to Luke and trapped the moving hand between the
two of them. ‘You’re exhausted.’

‘I slept.’
‘You had a weird experience.’
‘I’m not fragile.’
‘You … I …’
‘What?’ Luke asked, raising his mouth, nipping Tryg’s

lower lip.

That did it. He crumbled. ‘Get out,’ he said.
‘What?’ Confusion flickered in those big blue eyes.
‘Shower sex is overrated. I mean, the water’s nice …’

Tryg stroked his palms over Luke’s biceps, his chest, the
tops of his thighs – petting him.

‘But?’ Luke was smiling.
‘But the water actually has the reverse effect. It makes

a dry fuck. Not always fun. So …’

‘Ah,’ Luke said. ‘But I saw …’ He leant out of the

curtain, found Tryg’s shaving kit. Tryg was too busy
admiring the kid’s tight ass to worry about what he was
doing. Luke shut them back behind the curtain and waved
a small container at him. ‘I won’t even ask you what this
is for, but it will work great.’

It was a small tub of coconut oil. Tryg chuckled. ‘It’s

good for cracked, chapped skin, wounds, and hangnails.
No shit, the stuff works wonders. I’ve even heard it’s

good for –’

‘Fucking. Yep. I’ve heard that too.’ Luke unscrewed

the lid. He stood on tiptoe for a moment, hot water
continuing to rain down on them. He kissed Tryg roughly,
pushing his smaller tongue into Tryg’s mouth. Then Luke
grabbed Tryg’s hand and shoved his finger into the thick,
white oil that, when in solid form, resembled vegetable
shortening. ‘Get some,’ he whispered.

Tryg grunted, gathered some of the oil on his fingers,

and said, ‘Oh, I plan to do just that.’ Then he pushed Luke
to the wall again. Water be damned.

Chapter Twelve

Somehow sliding into Luke was like coming home. Tryg
was so far lost in it, so far surrendered to it that he
couldn’t even crack a smile at the coming part of that
coming home. He pressed his body up tight to Luke’s,
barely moving but pressing all the right places – for both
of them, he hoped. It sounded like he was right because
Luke made a noise that was sheer perfection. It made
Tryg’s skin pebble with goosebumps, his gut tighten and
flutter with impending orgasm.

He gripped Luke’s hips tighter, listened to the

mesmerising, sexy as fuck sound of Luke jacking off as
he rode him. It was a sinister, sensual, sibilant sound, the
sound of a wet fist on a wet cock. And the way Luke
hunched his shoulders forward, his body riding tension
and a need to let go, had Tryg holding his breath without
realising it. The coconut oil had him slipping and sliding
inside Luke’s tightness with ease and he lost his worry
that he’d split the kid in two. He wasn’t a bragger, but he
was big and Luke was tight. He wasn’t just tight, he was
bliss. Which was leading Tryg back to the feeling that he
was going to come, but he didn’t want to. Not yet.

‘I’m done,’ Luke grunted. His arm flew, his body a

tight wire of tension – so much so he was practically
vibrating in Tryg’s arms. ‘I can’t hold on with you. You
get me just … So …’ He broke off, a small, shattered cry
slipping free of him, and Tryg could feel by his body’s

motion that he was coming.

Tryg clamped his mouth to the back of Luke’s neck,

gripping his hips tight enough that he knew tomorrow
Luke would be sporting half-moon bruises where his
fingertips had been. Tryg thought of his fingerprints on
Luke and he felt his body make the decision his mind was
baulking over.

He bit down a bit harder and emptied into Luke with a

strangled cry. Fuck. He’d wanted it to last longer. But
they had to get going and – he felt the same. When it was
Luke, he didn’t have his normal reserve. He was more
primal, more in tune, more intense.

Luke pressed both hands flat to the wall, laughing.

‘You were … Wow. And you were feeling … Wow.’ He
shook his head, his wet hair flying in his eyes.

‘Lion-hearted,’ Tryg muttered.
‘What?’ Luke cocked his head. The water went cold

and they both jumped. ‘Fuck!’ He laughed.

‘Nothing. Something Virgil told me. I’ll explain later.’

Tryg stood back for a few beats while the water grew
warm again. ‘I have to take a real shower now. Can’t be
smelling anything but the scent I want to pick up. Not
even you, pretty Rabbit.’ He grinned and kissed Luke. He
even let him wash his back, all the smell of fucking and
coconut sluicing off them both until they were ready to
get back on the road. And hunt down a predator. Someone
who had kidnapped some of Tryg’s kind. With malicious
intent.

‘They were parked over in lot seven.’ The woman popped
her gum and the fat guy behind her scratched his paunch.

Tryg could smell them, and tried not to wrinkle his

nose at their unwashed scent. Clearly they weren’t into
the whole clean and well-groomed proprietor shtick. More

like the hoedown hillbilly shtick.

Luke snickered behind him, and that made Tryg bite

his lip. The brat was probably reading his damn mind.

‘May we go investigate?’ Tryg pulled out his wallet

and flashed it at the man.

The guy didn’t bat a lash or ask to see it. He simply

shrugged as if he could not possibly be more bored and
said, ‘What do I care? No one’s over there. It has to be
cleaned up before I can rent it out. Otherwise the renter
could report me.’

‘Thanks. Lot seven is …?’
‘Down the access road on your left. They’re marked.

Big canoes with the numbers on them outside each lot.’

‘Thanks,’ Tryg said.
Luke echoed his thanks and got back in the car as Tryg

climbed into the driver’s seat. ‘They were interesting.’

‘They smelled like dust and old pickles,’ Tryg said,

wrinkling his nose.

‘That must be hard for you,’ Luke said. ‘Having super

smell around some of the folks out there. There are people
who – to say the least – don’t consider hygiene a number
one priority.’

‘You should try going to an ethnic food fair. Indian

and Greek and Italian and French. It’s like being beat in
the head with a million sticks. And all the sticks have
intense and one of a kind smells.’

‘Or a public bathroom.’ Luke groaned.
‘God, I only go there if I must. And I rarely must. But

what about you?’ he asked Luke.

‘What about me?’
‘What did you get off them? Do you pick up other

people only if you want or do you have to try or …?’

Luke shrugged. ‘I usually pick up a bit from people.

Then I can sort of shut it down if I want or open up more

fully. I rarely pay attention any more. I’ve been this way
for ever. I used to think everyone could do it.’ He picked
at a hole in his jeans. ‘As for the couple back there? Fear,
worry, frustration. Like most people, they’re afraid they
don’t have enough. Want more. Worry they won’t get it
and are frustrated where their lives are versus what they
thought. I imagine once they were happy.’

Tryg grunted. ‘Christ. Not how I want my life to be.’
Luke smiled. ‘No one does.’
Tryg focus on the narrow dirt road and the counted off

canoes one through six. When canoe seven came into
view it was blocked with a police tape barrier. Tryg
grunted and said, ‘This could be good for me. I just have
to keep my ears open in case the real cops show up.’

‘What did you flash him back there?’
‘An FBI ID card.’
‘Where’d you get that?’ Luke climbed out and

followed Tryg to the yellow tape.

‘An FBI play kit at the toy store.’
Luke froze halfway under the tape. ‘What? You’re

yanking my chain.’

‘No shit. You’d be amazed at how authentic they look

if you paste a picture on and put it inside a wallet and the
person looking at it doesn’t look too close. And they
rarely do.’

‘Wow. You’re tricky.’
As Luke came up by his side, Tryg reached out fast

and smacked him on the ass. ‘You know it.’ He chuckled.

‘What are we looking for?’ Luke was trying to sound

calm, but his cheeks were burning red. He was turned on,
Tryg could smell it. But he could also smell something
else, more sinister. Not the bits of blood and matter
around the campsite. He could smell those too. But this
was something on the borderline of rot, mixed with fear

and disease.

‘I need to shift,’ he growled. His neck puckered with

goosebumps. Were he in animal form his hackles would
be up. ‘Watch out for me, yeah?’ He eyed Luke.

Luke nodded. ‘No problem. What do I do if someone

comes?’

‘Whistle.’
‘Got it.’ The kid started to turn away and Tryg heard

himself sigh. ‘You can watch, Rabbit. Don’t sweat it.’

‘I don’t want you to think –’
‘All I think is if we’re fucking and travelling and

hunting together, then you can see me shift. I trust you.’

The words were out of his mouth before he realised he

was going to say them. The look of affection blooming in
Luke’s eyes was enough to make Tryg clear his throat and
turn away. He stepped behind a fat cluster of old trees and
dropped his jeans and his Henley. He couldn’t smell
anyone around, but that didn’t keep him from saying a
quick mental prayer to anyone who might be listening that
he was secluded. He didn’t want anyone to see.

When he was naked, he stepped out to see Luke staring

at him. ‘Ready, Rabbit?’ He grinned. He couldn’t help
feeling a sick sense of joy at showing this talent off.

‘Ready,’ Luke said, swallowing hard.
‘Here we go, then.’
The change came as it always did. A rustling of heat

and tingling beneath his skin. The feel that his bones were
melting into a blissful puddle and then a sharp surge of
power as they reshaped. His face grew tight, then loose,
then tight again as it reformed. His vision going dim
before growing brighter and more intense. The heightened
sense of smell slammed him in the gut, then the buzz-
hum-tickle-pop of his sharper hearing picking up the
world around him.

When he turned to glance at Luke from his new, lower

viewpoint, the kid was staring open-mouthed at Tryg.
Tryg would have smiled if he could have. Instead, he
raised his head and let a low, purring rumble erupt from
him. Then he went in hunt of the smell of old blood and
meat and new blood and spoil. There were too many
scents overlapping and he needed to sort them out. He
trusted Luke, utterly, to have his back. Which even in
animal form was a startling realisation.

The campfire disaster was the source of old blood and

meat. The small creature – rabbit – that they’d desecrated
was just remainders at this point. The sharp smell of the
campfire and the reek of maliciousness hung heavy in the
air. This was not a nice group of folks. Also, there was the
sharp smell of something that really messed up his sense
of smell – sage. Burning sage could wreak havoc on his
sinuses and made him …

Sneeze!
After a brief sneezing fit, Tryg kept walking. He could,

under the muck and ick of the other smells, smell the girls
from his pride. There had been a deliberately missed call
on his phone from Abigail’s dad asking for any news.
Tryg hadn’t responded. All the news he had now led to a
very bad conclusion, so he’d ignore the message until he
had something at least hopeful to report.

Like the fact that even at this site he smelled the girls.

The smell of them alive, not dead. There was a different
scent to any dead creature and all he picked up here was
the poor, mutilated, unconsumed rabbit. His background –
given to him by his grandmother, the one person Tryg had
always known loved and understood him – roared at the
offence to the creature. One did not kill to kill. One killed
to live, and you honoured your kills.

He shook his massive head, sneezed again, heard Luke,

after an atrocious attempt at a whistle, whisper, ‘I think
someone might be coming. I’m taking the car and your
clothes to the next site –’

He heard the very distant but classic roll-crack-pop of

tyres on gravel, and hurried along, searching out the smell
of blood and rot. The one that did not fit with the other.

He found the man back far in the woods. Far enough

that the cops who had responded to what might be a prank
or devil worship at a camp site wouldn’t find him. He’d
crawled on his bloody belly and his busted-up knees. And
his eyes flew wide, despite his poorly state, when Tryg
pushed through the underbrush.

‘You!’ the man said.
But Tryg could tell that fever and delirium had set in

and whoever he thought to be approaching him, he didn’t
actually think it was Tryg. He saw a lion and his fever-
stripped mind was filling in a detail.

Tryg shifted and watched the burning, glazed eyes

grow even wider as the man finally saw what was in front
of him. ‘Not her,’ the man said. ‘Not her, not her. She –’
His eyes rolled back in his head and Tryg cursed, moving
forward on human feet that now felt entirely too big, too
clumsy, and too tender on the stark and bristling forest
floor.

‘Not her, what?’ Tryg grunted, nudging the guy with

his toe. He wasn’t being nice because this dude was one
of the original scents he’d picked up before they’d even
hit the road. He was one of the not so nice people
involved in the disappearance of the girls.

The guy opened his eyes and squealed a little, like a

small animal stuck in a trap. Seemed he was more upset
by Tryg in naked human form than eat-your-ass lion form.
It almost made Tryg chuckle – almost – but he heard
those tyres growing closer. Someone was coming. Most

likely investigators who would hopefully mistake his paw
prints for a mountain lion, which were common around
these parts.

‘Come on, man, speak up. You do know you’re dying,

right?’

The guy’s eyes narrowed and he snorted as if scoffing

at Tryg. Then the shiver and shakes started to wash over
him and he grew pale. ‘You’re not her. She said she was
special but she can’t … She can’t … She’s the –’

Then the fucker died.
‘She’s the what, you useless piece of –’ Tryg shook his

head and then turned to go. Maybe he meant Abigail said
she was special. Maybe she was trying to bluff them out
of not sacrificing her. Maybe she …

Who the hell knew? He had zero information beyond

some smells, what appeared to be a sacrifice of a small
animal, and a delirious bad guy who’d become a dead
guy.

But the one thing he was pretty sure this meant was

that Abigail and Dinah were most likely still alive. And
that was a very good thing.

He heard some shouting at the taped-off portion of the

site, and took off as quietly and swiftly as he could
through the thicker part of the woods. When he got to the
next site, he saw Luke parked by the opening, looking
pale and nervous. Tryg took off full speed, buck naked
and cursing thin and fragile human skin.

He gave a sharp whistle. Luke looked up. Hopefully no

one would come out the RV until he’d managed to get in
the car. The door popped open and Luke scooted aside.
Tryg’s bare ass hit the seat and he put the running car into
gear.

Just as he was pulling the door shut, from the RV

emerged three faces. Two adults, one teen. They caught

sight of his naked ass as the door swung inward and the
mother gasped. A high, nervous laugh escaped Luke, and
Tryg couldn’t help but follow suit as the father yelled,
‘Goddamn streaking kids!’

Tryg pulled to the side of the access road and found his

jeans. He slid into them commando, banging his knee and
his elbow on the steering wheel as he tried to contort,
talking softly all the while and filling Luke in on what had
happened. Luke handed him his shirt and Tryg noticed the
kid’s hands were shaking.

‘You OK?’
‘Lots and lots and lots of adrenaline.’
Tryg grinned. ‘I know this sounds sick, but man, it can

be a kick.’

‘No, you’re right. I think –’ He shook his head and ran

a still-shaking hand through his hair.

‘What?’ Tryg asked.
Luke turned nervous eyes his way and said, ‘I think,

Tryg, that you need to find a place fast and fuck me.’

Tryg nearly broke his arm putting the car back in gear.

Chapter Thirteen

He pulled further up the access road, got out, and moved a
chain from between to concrete pillars. He hooked it
behind them and drove the car until the chain was out of
sight.

Then he popped the car into gear and turned off the

engine. ‘Get out,’ Tryg growled, his voice thicker and
more dangerous than he’d been aiming for. But he saw
the small hairs on Luke’s arms go up and the mild tremble
that worked through him, and smelled the rush of blood
and pheromones under his skin.

Luke opened his door, got out, and nudged it shut with

his hip. The car rocked and Tryg climbed free, stretching
out his muscles before turning toward Luke. He grabbed
his wrist and tugged him into the thick stand of trees. Pine
and dead leaves and decaying vegetable matter filled his
nose. The scent of the woods, outside, nature. He fucking
loved it.

‘Hurry,’ Luke said. A fine shiver was working under

his skin, seeming to shake his muscles and bones as Tryg
held his wrists captive.

Tryg turned, stooped briefly and came up with Luke

draped over his shoulder. Luke was so surprised that the
only noise that escaped him was a startled gasp. ‘This will
be faster,’ he reassured Luke. A short, brisk run brought
them to a minor clearing and Tryg had had just about
enough of feeling Luke’s cock pressed to his shoulder. He

wanted to feel it in his hand as he fucked him. He wanted
to feel him come. He wanted to –

‘Christ, take off your clothes,’ he managed. ‘Before I

mentally get myself off to the point where I come without
even touching you.’

He expected Luke to laugh. He didn’t. He nodded

wildly, his eyes shiny and trusting, as he undid his jeans
and pushed them down. When he was bare, his cock stood
out hard and flushed, and Tryg could smell the desire
coming off the kid in a staggering wave. What a fucking
scent. The scent of horny man.

Tryg rushed him, not meaning to; it was just his need

got the better of him. He pushed Luke back to a pine
where Luke threw out his hands to brace himself. Tryg
felt the excitement and thrill coming off Luke when he
was rough with him. Good to know boyfriend liked a little
rough in his tumble.

Tryg looped a big forearm around Luke’s slender neck

and pressed his lips to his ear. ‘You know, fucking you
never gets old,’ he rumbled, sliding his cock up and down
Luke’s ass crack. He pressed, briefly, to the tight knot of
Luke’s asshole, but then continued a slow and easy sweep
of his tip along the split of his bottom.

He’d make him tremble before he took him. Hard. He

wanted Luke shaking like a leaf in a summer storm. And
judging by how his new lover was vibrating at the
moment, that wouldn’t take long.

He nudged the tip of his cock against the tight hole and

then pushed – slow and steady – until only the tip
penetrated. Beneath his body, Tryg felt Luke panting. His
chest rising and falling in a fast and fluttery motion that
had him on the verge of coming.

‘Stay still, Rabbit,’ Tryg said in Luke’s ear.
He had to hand it to Luke. He tried. He tried to stand

still, but his body had other ideas as the trembling shook
him harder. Tryg felt the riotous pound of the boy’s pulse
under his arm where he held him around the neck.

He pulled free, dropped to his knees, and dragged his

teeth and lips up the back of one thigh and then the other.
Luke made a sound like he was dying, clutched the gnarly
bark of the tree. Tryg watched him press his forehead to
the trunk as he reached through Luke’s legs, intentionally
nudging his balls with the tips of his knuckles. When
Tryg took the young man’s cock in his hand and bit his
left ass cheek, Luke sobbed. His need was a palpable
thing – a third party to this torturous mating dance they
were doing. Tryg grinned, licked a hot, wet stripe along
Luke’s lower back, and then bit his perfect right ass cheek
so he went stiff and his cock jerked in Tryg’s fist.

Then he was babbling a string of “oh gods” and

“pleases” so long and so heartfelt Tryg realised he was
powerless to say no. He stood, spit in his fist, and slicked
himself the best he could. Then he looped his arm back
around Luke’s neck and squeezed just a bit because he
knew that added to it for the kid. Knew it helped get him
off. And he wanted to get him off; he wanted to make him
remember this. An adrenaline fuck with someone you
trusted was the sweetest of all. Almost as good as the
perfect fuck with someone you loved.

He pushed that impudent thought aside and roughly

entered his trembling Rabbit. Little sweet Rabbit whose
hot, tight body clamped up around his cock and made him
want to let his fangs out. He wanted to run his teeth – his
animal teeth – up and down the sweet spot along the back
of Luke’s neck where the hair curled just a little from heat
and sweat. He wanted to taste sweet and salt and fear and
lust on his skin.

Tryg slammed into him, feeling Luke’s torso hit the

pine. Knowing he’d be wearing scratches from the
unyielding wood for days.

That thought excited him – Luke wearing a badge of

this shared moment on his skin. He liked the idea of him
being marked – being known, even if it was only to the
two of them – as his. Tryg shook his head and gripped
Luke’s hips, sliding slowly in and out of his tightness. He
wanted to make it last but, as he fucked him, he watched
the way Luke’s clutching fingers climbed and smoothed
and worried at the wood. He reached around to find his
cock hard and the tip slippery under his fingers with
precome.

‘Do you want to come, Rabbit?’ he asked.
Tryg surrendered to the tightness and the freefall

feeling in his balls and his gut. Knowing he was done for
soon, and that it was OK. He could be done. This was not
a marathon, this was a sprint, and he could take his time
later, when all the bullshit and the worry and the hunting
was through.

‘Yes, I do.’ Even Luke’s voice was trembling.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because – of the rush.’
Luke let his head fall back against Tryg’s shoulder.

Tryg watched the pulse at the base of his throat jump. His
hand worked Luke’s length as he continued a slow,
methodical thrust. He was going to come soon. He needed
to wrap up his chatter.

‘Because of the rush.’ He repeated Luke’s words. He

stopped sliding his fist and simply held Luke in his hand,
his fist tight. He swore he could feel the kid’s heartbeat in
his cock.

‘And because of you,’ Luke said.
When he said it, Tryg realised that was what he had

wanted. What he’d wanted the kid to say. He wanted to be

a factor. He wanted to be needed and desired and …

He put his forehead against the back of Luke’s neck

and worked him roughly. He knew just how to do it so
that Luke lost control. When he started to buck in the cage
of Tryg’s arms, Tryg slipped in and out of him with ease.
Deeper and deeper as he squeezed Luke’s hot, thrusting
cock – he could feel Luke was fighting it. He whispered,
‘It’s OK, Rabbit. Go ahead. Come for me.’

Luke went stiff in his arms, shook, and let out a small

cry as he erupted. The heat and wet on Tryg’s fist,
coupled with the saltwater smell of semen and the blissful
squeeze of Luke’s ass on his driving cock, made Tryg
momentarily lose his control over his body. He felt the
heat and ripple and melt of a shift and his body flickered
from human, to animal, to human again as Luke’s fingers
slipped from the pine and he dropped to all fours, Tryg
travelling with him.

A final thrust and he was done for, letting his head

hang down and his body take control as the orgasm rattled
him. He’d never come like that before. A head to toe
orgasm that left him feeling both happy and melancholy.
Both spent and rejuvenated.

Luke whispered to the pine needle-strewn forest floor.

‘I think I love you, Tryg.’

Everything stopped.

Tryg looked at him and looked away fast. He’d seen
things in Luke’s eyes. Fear, worry … Hope. Tryg grabbed
his pants and hiked them up. He buttoned them swiftly,
and when Luke caught his wrist, Tryg froze.

‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said. ‘I shouldn’t have –’
The way his voice broke, the fact he was apologising

for what he’d said, how he felt, enraged Tryg on a cellular
level. What kind of asshole was he that he’d make an

honest statement like that something to regret and feel bad
about?

He grabbed Luke gently by the neck. It came from his

animal side more than his human side, and he knew to
tread lightly. He kept his hand steady and didn’t squeeze.
‘Don’t you be sorry,’ he said, leaning in so they were
nearly nose to nose. ‘I’m sorry.’

There was confusion in those big blue eyes and, again,

hope. Tryg wished he could stoke that hope and make it
flame up into full-blown love. Love at first sight love.
Fairy tale love. “We were together just a few short days
and in love” love. But that was not the kind of love for
Tryg. No kind of love was for Tryg. He sucked at love.

‘Why?’ Luke’s voice was a ghost of its normal self.
‘I’m sorry, I’m too abnormal to return your feelings.

Or at least make you OK with them.’ He kissed Luke, his
fingers still curled to his tender throat. When he released
him, he took a deep steadying breath and said, ‘So now
the question is do you want to continue?’

His hand fell to his side and he waited, nervousness

filling his gut and making him feel a bit queasy.

‘Continue what?’ Luke asked, cocking his head. Sandy

hair fell in his eyes and he looked so adorable Tryg
thought he might just die from the sugar rush of looking
at him.

‘The trip. With me.’
Luke smiled and touched Tryg’s nose. It was a pretty

bold gesture, considering Tryg had just had him by the
neck.

He’s not afraid of you. Not really. Maybe when you’re

fucking he gets a rush, but he’s not afraid. Lion-hearted is
right …

The touch soothed Tryg. Brought his heartbeat down

to an almost normal rhythm. Steadied the anxiety in his

stomach and chest. He took a deep breath and felt his
muscles relax a little.

‘Of course I do,’ Luke said, smiling. ‘Was that even a

real question?’

In the Thunderbird, the phone was vibrating on the

backseat to let Tryg know that he’d missed a message.
And what a message it was.

Chapter Fourteen

‘Fuck-shit-fuck-shit!’ Tryg beat the steering wheel so
hard he finally pulled back for fear he’d break it.

‘What’s wrong?’
‘Text from the pride. Someone confirmed seeing a

white van with a black rose on it the night the girls were
abducted at Topaz Lake. The people lived by the lake, but
left early the next morning for a two-night trip. They’re
back now and just heard of the abduction.’

‘So?’ Luke picked nervously at his jeans.
‘So, the white van with the black rose is a little band of

looney tunes who call themselves Malus. They’ve been
responsible for a few shifter abductions and sacrifices
over the years.’

‘Malus?’
‘Yeah.’ Tryg ground out a laugh. ‘Super fucking

original. It’s Latin for bad. Oooh, very creative.’ He
banged the steering wheel once more, and made himself
stop. ‘The point is they are stone-cold crazy but they
follow through. They’re trying to raise some evil god of
something or other. Think Cthulhu myth but with stupid
people. They have never raised anything but a ruckus, but
they did kill at least one wolf that we know of and a fluid-
type shifter. The guy could shift into just about anything.
Bird, bee, dog … If it had a pulse, he could become it.’

Luke shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, and

turned in his seat to reach into the back. He popped the

cooler and yanked out two dripping cans of soda. ‘Last
two. Have some. Get some sugar in you. You’re pale.’

Tryg grunted, popped the soda, and drank it in three

big gulps.

‘I mean, I don’t know how shifters work. If you even

need sug–’

‘We need sugar!’ he roared.
Luke’s eyes flew wide and Tryg felt like a heel.
‘Sorry. Sorry … I’m just so pissed. Not at you. Just in

general, and I have a hard time capping it off even when
I’m dealing with someone I’m not mad at.’

‘How do you think when you’re that mad?’
They sat, parked on the access road, in a dappled bit of

shade from a huge pin oak tree. Tryg had yet to start the
car, his rage was too fierce.

‘I don’t. Not well, anyway,’ Tryg grunted.
‘You need to just calm down. This won’t help.’ Luke

reached out and touched him. His slim fingers slid along
Tryg’s cheek before roaming up to brush across his brow
and through his thick hair.

He was almost humming, and Tryg let his eyes shut for

a second. He let the touch soothe him and the feelings
inside him that he feared the most tried to come rushing
up and out of him. With effort, he tamped it down hard
but let Luke keep touching him. Let him keep working his
lion-hearted magic until Tryg could breathe and not feel
so explosive and, yes, even think.

‘Better?’ Luke asked.
‘Better,’ he said.
‘So where do we go to find this Malus?’
‘North,’ he said. ‘From Pennsylvania as far as the

Canadian border.’

‘We’d better get going, then.’
Tryg leant over and cupped Luke’s head in his hands.

He planted one on him. No subtle, gentle, wooing kiss.
This was a claiming kiss. He wasn’t ready to say any big
words, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t kiss the kid this
way. He’d never say he needed him – yet. But he sure as
hell felt that way.

‘So how many shifters are there?’ asked Luke, ripping off
a piece of beef jerky. They had stopped to load up on soda
and juice and water and snacks. Nothing ran a shifter
down faster than no fuel. Nothing made a car trip more
boring than no snacks.

Tryg scratched his head. As they travelled north on the

highway, the air grew just a bit cooler, the scents just a
touch greener. Farmland surrounded them at the moment,
and he had the indescribable strong urge to pull over,
ditch his clothes, and just run like a motherfucker. Screw
it all. The trip, the hunt, the girls, the pride needing his
help despite basically writing him off. Fuck. It. All. But
for Luke. What about Luke?

Luke can ride on your back like some cheesy 80s

movie moment …

He chuckled, then snapped back to the conversation.

‘About one for every 20 humans. Roughly. Hard to tell.
Some shifters are still so private about their lineage they
won’t even admit their true nature to other shifters.
They’re afraid.’

‘Why?’ Luke asked. But the look in his eyes said he

knew.

‘Because we were viewed as freaks,’ Tryg said. He

shrugged. ‘Instead of looking at us as humans who can
simply change into animals at will – you know, like the
guy down the block who’s double-jointed and can fit
himself into a kitchen trashcan – they choose to see it as
something negative. Dangerous. We are freaks to be

watched, monitored, and sometimes studied.’

Luke blinked. He licked his lips and shook his head,

clearly uncomfortable. ‘That is – terrible.’

‘So as you can imagine,’ Tryg barrelled on, ‘it’s hard

to keep track of how many of us there actually are. One to
20 is an estimate. Could be more, could be less.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said.
‘That I’m a freak?’ Tryg asked. He cringed when he

said it. He hadn’t meant to – and he wasn’t referencing his
shifter genetics, he meant his inability to act like a human
and return this man’s affection. His love. It was fast, but it
was legitimate. There was an unseen link between them
that resonated as surely as an energy field. But he
couldn’t embrace it, because that meant being vulnerable.
It made no sense at all, and so he pushed it away.

‘No. That people can be so cruel.’
‘Come now. Being a pretty gay man such as yourself,

I’m sure you’ve run across cruelty before?’ Tryg turned
on to a cross road and headed toward the signs for a camp
named after a Native American tribe. He hit the gas and
the car leapt forward.

‘I have. That’s why I’m sorry,’ Luke said. He patted

Tryg’s hand as if to say “you can’t scare me off, big boy”.

Tryg realised that the feeling he was experiencing was

gratitude. So far, he hadn’t been able to shake this man.

Thank God.

Chapter Fifteen

‘You’re looking for a what now?’ The woman wore what
Tryg’s mother called a housecoat. He called it ugly. The
thing was pale, pale yellow, nearly see-through in some
spots (which made him want to shiver and look away),
and came a bit too far above her bony, wrinkled knees for
his liking.

‘I wanted to see if you had checked in a white van with

a black rose on it.’

‘Now how would I know if it had a black rose on it?’
‘Because maybe you looked at it,’ Luke piped in. He

popped the gum in his mouth so it made a startling noise
and Tryg had to press his lips together and look away.
‘You know. Because this is your joint and you don’t want
to get arrested if you have criminals on your grounds.’ He
cocked his hip and stared her down, doing his best trailer
trash impression.

Tryg could kiss the kid right now.
‘Well, I … I mean, we …’ She started to look as pale

as her housecoat, and her lips were moving but no noise
was coming out.

‘Your log might help,’ Luke said. ‘You do keep a log,

right?’

‘Yes.’ She was nodding now, agreeing with him. Yes,

we do. Yes, yes, yes, please don’t let me be in trouble,
that nod said.

‘How about you check, or …’ Luke leant in and she

leant in to meet him.

Mildred Mann was her name. It was posted on the

licence that was tacked to the door of the hut at the
entrance to the campground.

‘Or?’ she asked breathlessly.
Tryg was starting to wonder if Luke was actually a

vampire and was putting a glamour on this woman.

‘Or if you keep security footage we could look.’
‘We could,’ she agreed.
‘Do you recall any white vans?’ Tryg asked. If she

didn’t, they were just pissing into the wind.

‘I do, now that we talk about it,’ Mildred said, twisting

the hem of her housecoat between her skinny, nicotine-
stained fingers. Tryg prayed she didn’t twist too hard. No
need to see what resided under that thin, over-washed
fabric.

‘When?’ He didn’t want to sound annoyed, but was

starting to fail.

Luke reached out and put a hand on his forearm and

Tryg felt the frustration and anxiety begin to recede.

‘Yesterday evening,’ she said. ‘A few girls and a few

guys. I don’t recall a rose on the van, but it was dinner
time.’ She looked away and blushed. ‘And I watch Judge
Judy while I eat dinner, so …’

‘You might have been distracted?’ Luke said. He was

all smiles and sunshine and butterflies now. And that
cracked Tryg up more than even he could comprehend.

‘I might have,’ she amended. ‘If you park over there so

we can clear the gate up, you can come on in and sit at the
desk to watch last night’s footage.’

Tryg nodded, and they climbed back in to pull the

Thunderbird into a spot. He turned to Luke when the
woman was out of sight. ‘What the hell was that? You’re
like the housewife whisperer,’ he said.

Luke grinned. It was a wide, white, slightly crooked

grin, and it made Tryg’s hear beat faster and his dick go
hard. Jesus. This kid was just a twisted maze of attraction
and intrigue.

‘You’d be amazed at how often you need to know

when to deliver attitude and when to retreat. When you
live on the road, I mean. I need to talk my way into and
out of a lot of situations. So … I kind of have my shit
wired tight on that front.’

Tryg slid his arm around Luke’s neck and grabbed a

handful of his sand-coloured hair. ‘Yes, you do.’

He pulled him in and kissed him. His tongue slid over

Luke’s soft pink lips, their teeth clacking together for a
split second. He kissed him until his tongue ached and his
cock followed suit, and he didn’t care if Mildred was
watching or anyone else. When he finally managed to pull
himself away, Tryg let out a long, slow, shaky breath.

‘Jesus,’ Luke murmured.
‘Yes, Jesus. Now let’s go. We can’t just spend this

whole road trip fucking.’

He’d never meant any words less in his life.

She’d told them that site Peace Pipe Seven was where
they’d gone.

‘Peace Pipe Seven?’ Luke snorted.
She shrugged. ‘Yeah. The lots are named after Indian

items and then numbered.’

‘Indian.’
Mildred blew out a sigh and corrected herself ‘Native

American. But you know, young man, I am a good
portion Cherokee. I should be able to call it Indian if I
wanna.’ Then she scowled at him.

Luke had the good grace to look a bit chagrined. Tryg

was so fucking amused he feared he’d actually giggle.

‘Right. Peace Pipe Seven it is,’ Tryg said. He hit the

rewind button on the ancient recording equipment and
watched everything run backwards like a Keystone Cops
movie in reverse.

‘There!’ Luke said, leaning in. The white van backed

in. On the right rear quarter panel you could see the black
rose symbol. ‘Just front windows. No side windows, no
back windows. Not even porthole windows.’

‘So we see a guy and a woman. The woman doesn’t

look anything like Abigail or Dinah.’

‘There were three men and one woman and the girls,

right?’ Luke leant in close and Tryg could smell him. It
was distracting.

‘We think so. It’s all pretty sketchy. We’re doing a

guestimate here.’

Luke nodded. ‘Well, there’s two. One was – lost back

at a previous campground.’

They both became aware of their housecoated hostess

listening. Little wrinkled pitchers have big ears.

‘And another guy must be in the back with the girls,’

Tryg finished.

‘Right.’
On the tape they watched mini-Mildred come out,

block the window, hand in a clipboard, take their licence
and the money. She gave them their pass and directions
and never made them get out of the car.

‘Why don’t you have them come in?’ Tryg growled,

frustrated that all they had was a grainy shot of the
passenger and an even shittier shot of the driver.

‘I’m a woman alone most nights. You think I want

strangers in there?’

He sighed. Good point. ‘Right. Sorry.’ He didn’t ask

her what she thought prevented them from yanking her
into the van and dragging her off if they wanted her.

On the video feed, the van drove off and they caught a

partial licence plate. ‘Seven-eight-three is all I get.’ Luke
sighed.

‘Let me rewind.’ They watched the van back up, pull

away, he even slowed it. ‘Seven-eight-three it is,’ he said.
‘That’s all I see.’

Mildred watched them do it again and lit a cigarette.

Finally, she said, ‘I could just write the licence down for
you off the master list,’ she said.

Tryg couldn’t suppress his groan but almost laughed

when Luke rapped his forehead with his open palm.
‘Hey!’ Luke said, with false pep. ‘That would be great!’

‘I wonder why they let her mark it down,’ Tryg said.
She heard him and stopped. ‘I never ever make a point

of letting them know I’m writing it down. I just glance at
it on the way to the driver. Real nonchalant like. I’m no
fool. I know sometimes people don’t like to be tracked. I
keep that in mind.’

‘Smart,’ Tryg said.
When she disappeared into the inner office, Luke said,

‘No, smart would have been giving us that info from the
get-go.’

Within moments they were calling home to Tryg’s

pride to give the licence number. Then they were on their
way to lot Peace Pipe Seven to see what they could see.

Chapter Sixteen

Tryg lifted his head. With the windows open, the cooling
fall air brought lots of scents. Tryg knew he could smell
more of them than Luke.

‘Not good,’ he muttered.
‘What’s not good?’
‘That smell. It’s feral. Dark. It smells like …’ He

shook his head before tilting his nose enough to let more
of the smell flood in. He wasn’t even paying attention to
the damn dirt road any more. Just following his nose to
the place that he knew the van had parked for the night.

Tryg pulled up next to an oak that must have towered a

good 80 feet in the air. It was staggering to think
something that big had once been a sapling. It was also
staggering to realise how small he felt next to it. Few
things made him feel small.

‘Not good,’ he said again, without thinking.
‘What’s not good?’ Luke sounded frustrated and his

big blue eyes looked worried and tired.

Tryg put the car into gear and pointed to Luke. ‘I’m

not sure yet. Just stay here.’

‘What? Why!’ Luke sat straight up, his pulse visible at

his throat. ‘If it’s dangerous you shouldn’t go alone.’

Tryg chuckled. The vibration of his amusement shook

his chest. It felt good. But when he saw the look on
Luke’s face he felt bad. ‘Sorry. I just … I’m pretty sure
I’ll be fine on my own, is all.’

Luke’s mouth narrowed and so did his eyes. ‘What?

You’ve never heard of a gun before? Or a knife? I know
you’re a big badass shifter, a fighter, Bolo,’ he said,
throwing that dreaded name around for the first time. ‘But
you’re not immune to death.’

Tryg grunted. ‘No shit. But I don’t want you, who’s

way less immune to any of it, to get hurt if this is a bad
situation. So. Stay. Here.’ He clamped his hand on Luke’s
thigh and squeezed. When the kid said nothing and looked
away, Tryg grunted again and got out.

Luke would get over it. Let him be mad.
He walked back toward the fire pit. Unused. He sniffed

and knew he smelled food, but it had a tinny, old quality.
So they’d eaten al fresco. Cans of food and things they
didn’t have to heat or cook. Then there was the smell of
sage and pot. As if sage wasn’t a nose-fuck enough, pot
smelled very similar and was almost worse in terms of
pungency. Tryg sneezed, then rolled his eyes. Damn
herbs. Nothing made you humble faster than sneezing
your ass off at a possible crime scene.

Big bad lion checking it out, until he needed a box of

tissues and some chicken soup.

‘That’s the second time, though. Or is it third?’ Had

there been sage back at the lake where the girls were
taken? He thought so. Instead of it being used for rituals,
was it possible someone was using it to camouflage
scent? ‘Well, fuck,’ he muttered, moving around the site
slowly. As soon as he got to edge of the woods, he froze.

There it was again – rank, feral, borderline crazy. The

smell of a shifter out of control. The smell of a young
shifter. She’d shifted. Abigail had come of age and if the
smell was correct, she was …

‘Frantic,’ he sighed.
‘Who is?’

Tryg turned and took the guy down. It was only when

the guy was down and his heart was lodged somewhere in
his throat and they were touching that he felt the peace
wash over him and his rage recede and the fight or flight
response abate that he realised it was Luke.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he growled. ‘How are you

doing that? Why are you doing that?’

‘I’ve never been a very good listener,’ Luke squeaked,

and then Tryg thought to move his forearm off his lover’s
neck.

Luke sat up, panting. His pupils had dilated and Tryg

swore if he was silent he could hear the boy’s heart.
‘What’s wrong?’ Luke asked.

‘What’s wrong? I could have snapped your neck right

there.’

Luke rubbed the red spots on his throat and said. ‘But

you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. What I mean is what’s
wrong here? You looked all freaked out.’

‘This whole situation freaks me out. Something’s off.

There’s all kinds of smells – changing, frenzy, feral
smells, blood, pot, and sage.’

Luke shook his head. ‘Blood, pot, and sage. Sounds

like a bad band name.’

‘That it does.’ Tryg moved back to the perimeter of the

woods. Fur from something small, but the meat was gone.

Eaten?
Then there, again, was the harsh smell of pot and the

even more acrid smell of sage.

‘Medicine or magic or both?’ Tryg was talking to

himself and Luke, his new shadow, was right on his heels.

‘Maybe they were using it just to throw you off. Well,

the sage. My guess is even if they were using the pot for
that reason, they were still – you know – smoking it.’ He
laughed.

‘See, that’s funny because I thought the same thing,’

Tryg said. ‘It’s like they’re using the herbs to confuse my
senses. To keep me from catching on.’

‘What’s this frenzy smell you talk about?’
‘She changed. I think it’s done. Abigail has come of

age and she’s changed and …’

‘And?’ Luke eyed him. He wasn’t a stupid kid. He

remembered what Tryg had told him about shifters and
coming of age and that small percentage who went into
meltdown.

‘And?’ he prompted again, tugging at Tryg’s arm. His

fingers on Tryg’s skin were cool and calming.

‘And I think she’s sadly one of the ones who … Well,

she’s come out of it less than sane. According to the
smell. There’s definitely bugshit crazy smell in the mix.
And the fear I’m picking up on seems to be more from, I
guess, Dinah and the humans. I think the power in this
little ragtag group has shifted.’

Luke eyed the small scrap of fur at their feet and

shivered. ‘What does that mean? What do you mean the
power’s shifted?’ He smiled as if the choice of the word
shifted was a bad joke.

‘I don’t know how this whole thing started out. Not

really. No one was there but a few shitty eyewitnesses.
This investigation, and I use that word lightly, is a lot of
speculation and very little information. In fact, I was half
convinced it was just a way to run my raggedy ass out of
town on a rail. A rail with a mission, but still …’ He
grunted and put his head in his hands. He rarely got them,
but damn if he wasn’t getting a headache.

‘But?’ Luke asked, rubbing a small place along Tryg’s

back. Tryg felt those muscles unknot, felt his soul settle
down a bit. He wanted to curl up on a lumpy motel
mattress and have Luke work magic on his tense and

tortured body with those hands. And then he wanted to
fuck Luke – face to face this time – and watch his
startling blue eyes when he came.

Instead, he walked further along the woods, looking

for clues. A rock here that showed a trail through the dirt
where it had been violently flung (kicked?). Blood on the
grass. He squatted down and took a handful, yanked it up,
smelled it.

‘Eew,’ Luke said.
Tryg laughed softly and smelled it again. ‘This is her.

She shifted and it did not go well.’

‘Y’all bleed when you shift?’ Luke asked. Tryg could

smell fear waft off his lover. Not fear of him, fear for him.

‘Not usually, no. Usually, only first-time shifters bleed

and it’s not actually due to the shift itself. It’s due to
panic. See, our bodies are made to do what they do – defy
physics, fuck with the human mind – whatever you want
to call it. We are made to do that. So we don’t bleed.
Unless we panic or go a little – nuts. Those people tend to
pull at their skin when they start to shift. Scratch and pull
and yank as the body does what the body was meant to
do. And then they freak out and end up bleeding. The
same way you would …’ He paused to pet Luke’s leg.
Not just as an excuse to touch the beautiful man, but to
feel that slither of calm and peace that seemed to increase
and radiate through his bones every single time he
touched him. ‘The same way you would bleed if you
picked and scratched violently at your skin.’

‘It’s not increasing,’ Luke said. ‘You’re just not

fighting any more.’

Tryg stood and his bones creaked. ‘What?’
‘The feelings you get when you touch me. They aren’t

increasing, you’re just not fighting them any more.’

‘Get out of my head, Devil Boy,’ Tryg said. It was a

100

good-natured tease, though, and he touched Luke’s plump
lower lip when he said it just so there’d be no doubt.

‘I can’t help it,’ Luke said on a short breath.
‘What am I thinking now?’ Tryg challenged.
‘How fast can you wrap this up so you can get me to a

bed and fuck me.’

Luke didn’t say it as a question. He said it as a

statement. He smiled when he said it, but his eyes were
bright with lust.

‘Devil Boy,’ Tryg repeated softly. He kissed him softly

once and turned back to the site. ‘Let’s wrap this up.
There’s a motel about three miles back the way we came.’

101

Chapter Seventeen

Tryg had Luke drive to the hotel as he phoned in his
findings to the pride leader. He said he’d keep them
posted, but just from what he saw today, he felt that the
possible abductee was now the abductor. The phone thing
had been wonky from the get-go and Tryg had a feeling
maybe, just maybe, things were not as they seemed. Tryg
had to pull the cell phone from his sensitive ear as the
leader started to bellow into the phone.

Finally, he’d had enough. These assholes had sent him

off. Shunned him, basically, under the guise of his pride
needing him. He put the phone to his ear and said, ‘I don’t
care if you like what I said. And I don’t care why she’s
doing it. This is what I feel is going on and, until I feel
otherwise, I’m operating under the assumption that
Abigail Pitt is now calling the shots. I’ll call when I have
more.’ Then he disconnected.

‘Wow,’ Luke said, pulling into the gravel filled drive

of the motel. The Harvest Moon Motel was a squat,
whitewashed line of bungalows. Off each unit hung a red-
stained wood deck with two cheap lawn chairs.

Between two sections of units squatted a narrow pool

with an army of dilapidated lawn chairs scattered around
its perimeter. Fall had come to the pool; Tryg noticed it
had about a tree’s worth of leaves floating in it.

‘Wow the pride leader or wow this place?’ Tryg

grinned, looking up at the currently unlit neon moon hung

102

above the front doors.

‘Yes,’ Luke said, laughing. ‘They don’t cut you any

slack, do they?’

‘Not, mostly. There are some who do. I have some

friends. Virgil back at the lake was a friend. Matt at the
bar is a friend. A few of the girls in the pride are good
friends. But every girl loves a good gay friend, right?’ he
barked.

He could feel his lips pinched together in that

disapproving pucker he had. He forced his lips to flatten
out and grow a bit more relaxed. It wasn’t easy, but he
was going to look like the south end of a northbound lion
if he didn’t get himself under control soon.

The thought made him laugh.
‘What?’ Luke put the car in park and turned off the

engine.

‘Nothing. Just thinking my mouth is going to look like

an asshole if I don’t relax.’ He shook his head.

Luke snorted. ‘I doubt it, but let’s not test it, eh? Do

you want to go in or shall I?’

‘I’ll go,’ Tryg said. ‘You sit tight.’ He put the room on

the pride’s credit card. The bored-looking clerk handed
him a card key and his receipt.

‘Ice bucket’s in the room. So are towels and

complimentary toiletries. There’s a diner just up the road
or vending machines by the pool. We hope you have a
lovely stay at the Harvest Moon.’ The unkempt man said
it all by rote. If he sounded any more uninterested, Tryg
would be worried about suicide. He sniffed once and
realised that it wasn’t suicide he had to worry about.
Maybe death by masturbation, but that was it.

‘Thanks.’ Tryg reminded himself to wash his hands a

few hundred times at the unit.

Luke waited for him to buckle up like a good boy and

103

then he drove the Thunderbird to unit seven.

‘Home sweet home,’ Luke said, laughing. ‘At least for

the night. But hey, it’s really cool. I mean, more so than a
crappy apartment thing on the second floor. We can get
some beers, sit on the deck-like thing.’ He pointed to the
deck that sprouted like a growth off the front of the unit.

Tryg snorted. ‘Deck-like thing.’
‘Sure. A sweatshirt and some big socks and a blanket

stolen off the bed – shaken out for bedbugs, of course –
and we can watch the moons rise.’

‘Moons?’ Tryg got the joke but couldn’t help himself.
‘Sure. The real one and the one on the façade over

there.’ Luke pointed toward the office.

Tryg grabbed that finger and tugged Luke gently

toward him. He suddenly felt aware of his size. Aware of
his strength. And he felt the insane urge to be easy with
this man. He tugged that finger until Luke curled himself
against his chest, then Tryg tipped the kid’s head back
and kissed him. He kissed him until his tongue ached a
little and his cock ached a lot and then he said, ‘Come on.
I’ll find food while you shower and then we’ll eat.’

‘Do I smell like I need a shower?’ Luke sniffed, giving

a good show of acting insulted. It was bullshit.

‘We both do. It’s been a long, long day.’
‘I’d be up for a long, long night,’ Luke whispered. He

sounded worried.

Tryg kissed him again. ‘Me too. Let’s reconfigure that

schedule. We take a shower together. We find food. We
eat. Etcetera.’

‘Etcetera?’
‘Yes, meaning and then more stuff.’
Luke grinned. ‘OK.’
‘Now let’s go before I flip you over and fuck you in

the car.’

104

‘You say that like it would be a bad thing.’
Tryg just laughed and climbed out of the car before he

did just what he’d threatened.

It’s one thing to tell yourself that you won’t fuck the
pretty blond boy in your shower. To avert your eyes and
only let yourself cheat once or twice for a fleeting glance
of a tight ass and hard muscles and a narrow waist. Damp
hair the colour of wet sand and a smattering of freckles
across the bridge of his nose. It’s hard enough to soap up
and keep an erection at bay and act as if you are going to
behave – and really, really try to behave. Even when he
brushes past you to get under the spray and you see his
cock is hard and his blue eyes flash at you like something
out of a summer sky and … Jesus. It’s one thing to want
to be that good man. That controlled man. The one who
practices restraint as if it’s as easy as breathing.

But all that flies away, Tryg realised, when the object

of your stifled desire climbs out of the shower, drops his
white, bleached-within-an-inch-of-its-life towel on the
floor, and kneels before you.

‘I won’t bite.’ He looked up and took Tryg’s cock in

hand. There was no coaxing it to hardness; the moment it
appeared as if Luke might touch it, Tryg felt his dick get
hard.

‘What?’ he blurted, confused. He was too turned on to

think like a normal person. All he had in his head was the
rush of his own blood pressure and lust.

‘You’re avoiding me,’ Luke said. His tongue darted

out and he touched just the vibrant wet tip of it to the
small indentation in the tip of Tryg’s cock. They were tip
to tip, he thought wildly. This man, goddamn, he fucked
with his head.

‘I’m not.’

105

‘You danced past me in the shower. You avoided me

like I might bite.’ Luke whispered the words over the
sensitive skin of Tryg’s hard-on and he felt like he might
collapse from the sensation.

‘I was …’ He shook his head and ran his hand through

his hair. His hand was shaking. ‘I wasn’t avoiding you.’

‘What was it, then?’ Luke slid the first half of Tryg’s

cock into his mouth, sucked gently, and then pulled back,
leaving the flushed skin glistening with spit.

A rumble purred up out of Tryg and he felt it shudder

through his body. Luke was coaxing the cat out of him.
Not in a bad way, in a very good way. But it rarely
happened and he worried about himself with Luke. He
never wanted to hurt him.

‘You won’t hurt me,’ Luke said, plucking the emotion

out of Tryg’s soul. He proved his words by sinking his
sweet mouth all the way down Tryg’s length in a fluid
motion. There was a moment where the muscles in his
throat hesitated, then he was kissing the base of Tryg’s
cock with his perfect pink lips.

‘Jesus,’ Tryg said. ‘And I say that because that feels

and looks like a miracle.’

He fingered a few fine strands at the front of Luke’s

hair. When Luke started to move, his head bobbing up
and down, up and down, he felt hypnotized. Lost in it all.
Lost in Luke.

Perfect.
His muscles went tense and he let himself think it.

Nothing had been perfect – ever. Family, pride, job, life.
Things had always been hard. An underlying taint of
awareness and concern.

Luke stroked his thigh. ‘Stop. Just … Stop.’
Tryg knew what he meant. He knew that Luke was

feeling every nervous firing of stress under her skin, in his

106

heart. He let the fingers sliding up and down the tops of
his thighs soothe him. He let his fingers feather the wet
hair at Luke’s brow again. He let himself rock contentedly
in and out of Luke’s mouth ever so softly as he moved his
generous mouth and silken lips up and down Tryg’s shaft.

Tryg let himself be happy for that moment in time. He

just pushed out the worry and the concern that feeling
good would result in a painful blow from the universe.
Something designed to say you don’t deserve to be happy!

‘Just let me …,’ Luke murmured, dragging his tongue

over just the tip of Tryg’s glans. He sucked gently,
pushing his tongue along the sensitive skin until Tryg felt
his muscles roll and bunch with an urge to shift. The urge,
the signal, only got so strong he didn’t feel it coming
when he was overly tired, horny, or sick.

Luke felt it too. He pulled back. ‘I … Should I?’
‘I won’t shift.’ He grinned. ‘It’s just my body’s way of

saying howdy sometimes. So … Howdy, Luke,’ he said
softly. Pushing his finger into Luke’s luscious mouth. He
added a second finger to the first and thrust slowly over
the textured wetness of his lover’s tongue. Watching his
fingers disappear, shoving them a bit deeper, a pseudo
cock. ‘I want to fuck you,’ he said.

‘You will.’
‘Now,’ Tryg growled.
‘Later. First, just … Let me. Let me, OK, I like it. I

want it. Hey, don’t deny me.’ Luke grinned and licked
along one of Tryg’s hip bones. ‘I crave it. You. The taste
of you.’

Tryg thought his knees might unhinge and dump him

on his ass in the tiny, ugly bathroom. I crave you. He
shook his head when something that felt like a thick wool
sock blocked his throat as he tried to swallow.

‘It’s called emotion,’ Luke whispered – meaning that

107

sensation – and then bent his head back to take Tryg
between his lips again. ‘Now let me.’

So Tryg let him. He let Luke lick along his shaft until

he thought he might weep from frustration. Let him suck
his cock in short, pleasurable bursts until he thought he
might die from the goodness. He let him lap gently at his
balls before sucking them into his mouth one at a time so
Tryg thought he might have just seen God. And then he
let Luke wrap his arms around him and hug him, kiss him,
hold him … For just a moment … After he came.

Tryg heard a satisfied sigh and realised he’d made the

sound.

‘Was that contentment?’ Luke asked, fingers dancing

softly up and down Tryg’s back.

‘I’m afraid to say yes,’ Tryg said honestly. It was the

most honest he thought he’d ever been with a person.

‘It felt like yes,’ Luke said. His lips pressed to Tryg’s

ear, his breath warm on Tryg’s skin.

‘I know.’ Tryg could hear how shaky his own voice

sounded. Not like himself at all.

‘Food?’ Luke asked, giving him an out.
‘God, yes, I’m starved. We need lots of food,’ he said,

kissing the boy’s forehead.

‘Lions?’
Tryg shook his head. ‘Nah, men who plan to fuck their

lover blue after they eat.’

Luke just shook his head and laughed, but his cheeks

burned a hot, beautiful red in the crappy motel lighting.

108

Chapter Eighteen

They found a strip mall down the way and bought them
out. A pizza from the pizza joint – Tryg figured it
couldn’t be too bad, seeing as the place was jam-packed
on a weeknight and the door just kept opening to allow
more diners to enter. Luke snagged two cheese steak subs
from a deli and some gravy fries. He handed those off to
Tryg and held up a finger, “be right back” style.

When he re-emerged from a small Bodega, he held a

baby watermelon and some cherries which he cradled in
his arms.

‘Fruit salad?’ Tryg joked. They’d hit the convenience

store right by the motel for some drinks and ice.

‘We do need fruit. We’re eating like frat boys.’
‘I’m eating like a carnivore,’ Tryg said. But he patted

Luke’s leg and then squeezed. A brief but staggering flash
of what he wanted to do to Luke flooded his mind.

‘Easy.’ Luke chuckled. ‘First we have to eat. And FYI,

most wild carnivores don’t eat gravy fries.’

‘Only because they lack the opposable thumbs to make

the gravy,’ Tryg said.

Luke snorted. Tryg watched him from the corner of his

eye. The purple light of dusk was shadowing his face, the
infrequent streetlights throwing hard blobs of white light
over him. He was gorgeous. ‘You know, it’s kind of
creepy that you read my mind.’

‘I know.’

109

‘Can’t control it?’
‘Not with you.’ Luke glanced his way. His eyes were

denim blue in the evening light. ‘With other people, like I
said, I can sort of – shield myself. I get inklings of how
they feel. I get indications of their emotions or even their
thoughts from time to time. But never ever like this. With
you, I nearly feel your feelings as if they’re my own.
They are pretty clear to me. Especially lust and arousal
and anger.’

‘Lucky you,’ Tryg growled.
Luke shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. It makes us feel –

linked.’

Tryg turned in to the convenience store, and ran in to

get their drinks. ‘Linked,’ he muttered. Oddly, the word
and the idea didn’t bother him nearly as much as he
anticipated. Actually, not at all.

A 12-pack of soda, a jug of water, a bottle of juice and

a bag of ice completed the meal. He was half out the door
when he saw the wine. Cheap, probably tasted like rot
gut, but it was under a sign that said “Celebrate!” Tryg
tossed the kid at the counter $10 and grabbed a bottle of
red. ‘Keep the change,’ he said, and out the door he went.

At the unit, they unloaded all their stuff and Luke set

about laying out all the food on one of the queen-sized
beds. When Tryg came in with the stocked cooler, the ice
sloshing and banging against the insides, Luke had a full-
fledged picnic set up.

‘Nice. Want some cheap-ass rot gut wine?’ Tryg

asked, setting the cooler by the door.

‘You know it.’ Luke sighed, and opened the pizza box.

He sighed again. ‘I think I might be in love with this
pizza.’

Tryg’s pulse jackrabbited, remembering how humbling

it was when Luke had admitted to loving him. And what

110

an asshole he’d felt like, running away from that feeling
like a child.

‘There’s a lot to love,’ he said, his voice a little too big

and booming in the small space. Aiming the cheap remote
at the ancient TV, he found the evening news.

Luke had half a slice of pizza down and was swigging

from the plastic cup of wine that Tryg had given him. He
looked up a split second before the story started to air. A
heartbeat passed and the painted and sprayed news anchor
looked at the camera, put on her serious face, and said, ‘A
white van was spotted in upstate New York when they ran
off the road briefly, turned in to a small strip mall, and
proceeded to rob the gas station there. The woman who
waved the gun around was said to be young – a teenager,
most witnesses are saying – and she appeared to have a
physical deformity. This footage shows …’

Her words went blurry, and Tryg saw Abigail on the

security footage, her face stuck half in a shift and half out.
Her hair long and wild. Her voice clogged by the guttural
sounds of an inhuman throat as she shouted orders.

‘Jesus,’ he said.
‘That’s her, but she’s – heartbroken. Scared,’ Luke

said, and promptly put a hand to his forehead.

‘Luke?’ Tryg moved toward him, trying to listen to the

coverage but more concerned with how pale Luke was
now.

‘My head is killing me,’ he muttered.
‘Again?’
‘I knew it was coming. News of them. I felt it like

before, the ache. Not a dream this time, though. Just that
instantaneous urge to pay attention. I could feel the news
story coming, but now my head.’

‘Maybe if you eat –’
Luke waved his hand blindly. ‘God, no. Just the

111

smell …’

Tryg dropped his food and picked up Luke. The boy

was burning up, which scared the shit out of him. ‘Come
on. Get in the other bed. Sleep.’

‘But –’
‘But nothing. Look at you, Rabbit, you’re as pale as a

goddamn sheet.’ He moved Luke to the free bed against
the far wall. Due to the crappy cheap lamps, the side of
the room near the motel door was way darker than the
side where they were eating.

‘Why do you sound mad?’
‘I’m not mad!’ Tryg snapped, tugging Luke’s shorts

off so he was more comfortable. He covered Luke with a
sheet and a blanket and then brushed his hair back.

‘You sound mad.’
He did sound mad, Tryg realised. ‘I’m not mad,’ he

said, taking the moment to soften his voice.

‘Then why do you sound mad?’ Luke asked, cracking

a wan grin.

‘Because I’m worried,’ Tryg said. And that makes me

mad. I don’t want to worry about you, or anyone else. But
I do … ‘I’ll go get you some pain relievers,’ he snapped.
Any excuse to hurry off.

His fingers were shaking when he pulled the little

paper packet open. ‘What the fuck, man. Get your shit
together. Stop acting like a moron.’ He bit his tongue hard
enough to taste blood. It sharpened his focus when he let
his emotions get the better of him. Feelings were chinks
in your armour. Weaknesses. And caring for someone was
dangerous. Either because they’d hurt you, or your
enemies had a weapon against you.

It was not a good idea, this feelings and emotions

bullshit.

Luke had put a pillow over his head to block even the

112

meagre light. Tryg turned his lamp off as he passed the
quickly cooling food. He turned the TV toward the
bathroom. He’d sit in the shitty armchair and find more
news as long as the flickering light didn’t bother Luke. If
it did, he’d sit in the goddamn dark and eat. Whatever it
took.

Uh oh …
He ignored his own internal voice and pulled the

pillow up. ‘Here. Take these,’ he whispered. ‘Let me get
you a cola.’

The caffeine and sugar and pain reliever might help the

headache. But more than anything, Tryg realised, it would
make him feel proactive.

Luke clutched the cold, wet can and swallowed down

the pills. His face was white in the flickering TV light, his
lips looked chapped. He appeared as if he’d been sick for
ages instead of in pain for minutes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘What?’
‘For ruining our picnic – and plans.’
Tryg grunted. ‘Knock it off. I’ll save you a piece of

pizza.’ He brushed the hair back from Luke’s forehead
and his stomach flexed with emotion. His heart hammered
and he felt, for a sudden terrifying moment, like he might
cry.

‘Just a piece?’ Luke asked, attempting a smile.
‘Fine. Two pieces.’ Tryg laughed.
‘Thank you. And careful …’
‘What?’
‘Careful,’ Luke said, his voice fading. He appeared to

be falling asleep, the pain relief kicking in. ‘I think you
just might be falling for me …’

Then he started to snore. Somehow even his snores

were cute. Little puppy dog snuffles that no one could
find annoying. Tryg sighed and touched a single finger to

113

Luke’s parted lips. ‘Unfortunately, Rabbit, I think you
might be right.’

Luke rallied and grabbed his hand. ‘I shouldn’t let you

call me that.’

‘Call you what?’ Tryg whispered. ‘Rabbit?’
Luke nodded, then winced as if the movement hurt his

head more than he could grasp. ‘They used to call me that
in school. When I wouldn’t fight. And then, when I was
about 14, our dog …’ He shook his head. Winced again.
‘He killed a rabbit right in front of me. I heard it scream.
It was terrifying and sad and – awful,’ he muttered.

‘I would never let that happen to you,’ Tryg said. His

throat went tight and he felt annoyed. Luke was already
sleeping again. ‘I call you that as a reminder to myself
that I must be gentle with you.’ He covered Luke with the
bit of sheet he’d knocked off. He hated how vulnerable he
sounded, and yet finished the sentence anyway. ‘So I take
care not to hurt you.’

114

Chapter Nineteen

Tryg almost fell out of the cheap motel chair when Luke
started shouting. He’d been dozing after finishing most of
their food but for some of the untouched pizza. And he’d
only managed to restrain himself from that because he
wanted Luke to have something if he was hungry when he
woke.

He was feeling fat and happy and, yes, somehow

content, sitting and keeping watch over his lover as he
slept. He felt very enforcer, very muscle, but in a good
way. Not in the big, controllable goon way the pride often
made him feel. This time he simply felt like a man
watching out for someone he cared for.

You care for him … You love him.
That thought made him drink some more wine. Didn’t

matter that he knew it would take about a hundred of the
dinky convenience store bottles to get him drunk in any
way at all. It was the act of drinking that made him feel
calm, not the effect.

‘Up, up, up! They are up!’ Luke shouted and sat

straight up in bed. ‘They are up and they are coming and
the strong will be the ones to rule!’ He was bellowing and
his eyes had flown wide.

Tryg took a second to recover from his blood pressure

soaring – the kid had scared the fuck out of him – before
he was up and moving toward Luke, who was flailing
around. Despite the fact that his eyes were open and he

115

was shouting, Tryg was pretty sure the kid was asleep.

He hit the bed and wrapped an arm around Luke’s

shoulders. Truth be told, he was afraid that he was going
to flail himself right out of bed and hurt himself. He’d
seen sleep terrors and sleepwalking before, and was
almost positive that what he was witnessing was a bizarre
mix of the two.

But the headache might have been preceding … ‘A

vision?’ he murmured. He wrapped his arms tighter
around Luke’s trembling body as the smaller man tried to
fling himself off the bed.

‘The centre of town! The centre of town! They were

drawn but we don’t want their kind. We don’t want this.
There is no cause, there is no cause!’ Luke was shouting
louder and louder and Tryg was afraid of the management
coming to see what was going on. This might be a no-tell
motel, but already someone was banging on the wall and
yelling a complaint. It was late and Luke was being loud.

‘Yes, OK. I hear you,’ he murmured, trying to gently

but firmly cover Luke’s mouth without covering his nose.
He had to shut him up but not kill him, for fuck’s sake.

‘The centre of town!’ Luke said, a bit softer.
‘I heard.’
‘We have no cause, but we are watching …’ Luke said

it like a plea. Shivered against Tryg. Tryg felt heat baking
off the kid and a cold, clammy sweat on his skin.

‘Watching,’ Tryg echoed. The soft acknowledgement

seemed to soothe Luke.

Luke started to cry. ‘Tired,’ he whispered.
‘I know, Rabbit,’ Tryg said, and pushed the hair off

Luke’s sweaty forehead.

Luke seemed to fall asleep again in his arms, but only

for a minute. Then he opened his eyes with a hitching sigh
that was part sob. Tryg saw his eyes were clear, present –

116

aware.

‘Tryg?’ he whispered.
‘Right here. I got ya.’
‘What the fuck?’
‘Worst nightmare ever?’ Tryg guessed. ‘Or something

more?’ He shrugged. The whole thing had unsettled him
more than he cared to admit. He had no idea what to say.

‘Give me a pen. Paper.’ Luke was still shivering.
‘At least you’re not burning up any more, ‘Tryg

muttered, rolling off the bed to find a pen and paper.

‘Now I’m just freezing,’ Luke said, his lips shaking

with the force of his shivers.

Tryg grabbed the spare bedspread and draped it over

Luke’s shoulders as he wrote on the scrap of paper. It was
one word in big, bold chicken scratch because Luke’s
hands were shaking so bad.

‘Divination?’ Tryg asked, reading the scrawl.
Luke shrugged. ‘Don’t know. But …’
‘Is that what you just had, or a clue, or a – place? What

does that mean?’

Luke let out a nervous bark of laughter. ‘If I knew that,

we’d be golden. Can I have a drink?’

Tryg felt so relieved to see him looking alert and better

he grabbed him and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his
lips. ‘Rabbit, you can have any fucking thing you want.’

‘Did you leave me pizza?’
‘Yes. It pained me but I did. How many do you want?’
‘How many do you have?’
It was the middle of the night, but Luke sat bundled up

like an arctic explorer, eating cold pizza and drinking
soda while watching an infomercial about a frying pan.
Tryg felt such a sense of gratitude in his chest it was
daunting. He’d never been more relieved to see someone
sit and eat pizza in his life.

117

When he opened his eyes in the morning, Luke was

watching him. Those October sky eyes of his made Tryg
horny. Just the penetrating blue gaze made his dick hard.

‘What?’ he asked.
‘You have a hard-on,’ Luke said.
‘Well, it is morning. That’s hardly news.’ Tryg felt

embarrassed for some reason. Which was stupid. Was it
embarrassment, he wondered as those eyes studied him.
No … Shyness.

‘I know. I just …’ Luke reached out and touched him

through the gym shorts he’d slept in. Tryg felt his body
give a leaping response to that small touch.

‘Just what?’ he asked, his voice a breath and a whisper.

Nothing like his actual voice.

‘I want you to fuck me,’ Luke said.
‘You had a rough night.’
‘I think this might be a pattern. I don’t think that’s the

last time. The closer we get to them, the more I’m with
you, the more I see, for lack of a better word. I’m getting
glimpses of stuff I shouldn’t, but there it is. I think I’m
becoming more than just a mild-mannered empath.’

Tryg opened his mouth, but Luke pushed a finger to

his lips and cut him off. ‘And … After a rough night I
need to feel good. Make me feel good.’

Tryg groaned. ‘Every time I try to be the good guy,

you make me stop.’

‘Maybe I don’t want the good guy. Maybe I just want

you,’ Luke said, and tugged Tryg’s shorts down so his
cock sprang free.

Tryg didn’t even let Luke go beyond the first tender

swipe of his tongue over his cock. That wasn’t what Tryg
wanted. Not now. As good as it felt, as much as he craved
it when he let himself even ponder it, he wanted
something different. The peace that flooded him just from

118

opening his eyes and seeing Luke look lucid and healthy
was overwhelming.

‘No,’ he grunted, more to himself than Luke. ‘Not

now. Not that.’

He flipped him easy enough. Tryg had at least 75

pounds on Luke. Maybe more. Plus he tended to take
what he wanted. What he wanted was to kiss Luke –
every last inch of him. Tryg could see Luke’s hair was
wet and he wanted to taste that special blend of clean and
salt and sweet. It was his drug of choice at the moment.

Luke made a soft noise, a supplicating noise. It turned

Tryg on even more, and he felt his pulse beating like a
drum in his cock. He dragged his tongue along the back of
Luke’s neck, gathering that signature flavour of his new
lover. His new obsession was more like it. When their
bodies connected he felt that welcome syrupy flow of
calm. That was his second drug of choice. Luke made him
tame. He liked feeling tame in the right circumstances.

Tryg pushed his thoughts away, clearing his mind of

all but his desire and the sound of Luke’s breath. The
sounds of his pleasure. Tryg let himself flicker – allowed
the beast in him to make an appearance for a minute.
There was no harm in it breaking free as Luke was face
down and all he was doing was licking him. Licking was
fine, Tryg reasoned. He dragged his tongue – much more
sandpaper than flesh in lion form – along the tight
muscles of Luke’s back.

Luke moaned, feeling the texture change from man

tongue to beast tongue. Feeling flesh turn to fur. He made
no move at all, Tryg noted in his muddled thoughts, to try
and look.

A surge of love washed over Tryg, so intense, he lost

his nerve and shifted back. I cannot love him …

And yet, he did. He knew that now. Something that

119

sounded almost like a sob ripped out of him and that was
when his Rabbit tried to turn around. ‘Don’t move,’ he
rasped. Luke, God bless him, stilled.

‘Thank you,’ Tryg said, humbly. Feeling more than

humble, feeling almost broken with the trust this kid
showed in him.

He proceeded to give attention to every bit of flesh he

could get at with his teeth and his tongue. His fingers
curled around Luke’s calves and spread him wider, and he
nibbled and licked his pale ass cheeks, the perfect split of
his bottom. Finally, he nudged the tight, tender ring of
Luke’s ass.

‘Lube?’ He muttered it as he slipped his hand under

Luke to feel how hard he was. His trim body moved under
Tryg’s bulk like a tuning fork that had just been tapped
and set into motion.

‘No lube. Just let me … Please, let me up.’
Tryg moved back enough for Luke to scoot out from

under him and, before a heartbeat passed, he’d crawled to
kiss and lick and suck Tryg’s cock until he thought he
might simply come undone. ‘No more,’ he said.

‘You’re wet now,’ Luke said, and then boldly moved

forward for one more slippery slide of his pretty mouth
along Tryg’s length.

‘Jesus,’ Tryg hissed. Flipping his Rabbit, his gorgeous

new love, on his belly, he spread his ass cheeks again.
‘You’re so pretty,’ he growled. Thinking he’d feel stupid
saying it, but feeling nothing less than honest.

‘Hurry,’ Luke said.
That was all Tryg needed. He pried Luke wide to get

the best possible view and entered him slowly. With each
passing second, watching himself enter Luke, he felt his
heart expand. His soul relax. His body breathe. Finally,
after all these years, he felt …

120

Whole.

121

Chapter Twenty

There was that moment where Luke’s tight body grew
tighter, his hands moving restlessly over the scratchy
motel sheets. He tossed his head as his hips bucked
against the bed, giving him the friction he needed. Tryg
let out a rough sigh and pulled free. He put his hand under
Luke, found him hard, squeezed him once so he gasped,
and then rolled him roughly onto his back.

‘Face to face,’ he grunted. He pushed Luke’s knees

high, forced his thighs wide, plunged back into him while
crushing his body down on top of his happily trapped
lover. He grinned, actually grinned, and chuckled. ‘Got
you, Rabbit.’

The look Luke gave him then was bald trust. He

threaded his fingers into Tryg's hair and craned his neck
to kiss him. Their lips met soft at first, greedy after. Luke
bucked up against Tryg, and Tryg felt his motions grow
more desperate. Luke’s hand slid between them as he
gave himself the final push he needed.

‘If this is gotten, I like gotten,’ Luke whispered and

that was that.

Tryg pushed his forehead to Luke’s, smelling the

enchanting scent of him. Feeling Luke’s hot breath on his
face. Tryg’s heart was a speeding thing in his chest that
threatened to break free – maybe kill him – but what a
way to go.

They came simultaneously, Luke’s come sealing them

122

belly to belly, but the moment sealing them together more
permanently. Tryg opened his mouth to ask Luke if he
was hungry. Instead he said, ‘I love you, Rabbit.’

Luke started to cry.
‘I have to say … Not the reaction I was thinking I’d

get.’ Tryg leant back on his elbows, utterly confused and
a little hurt.

Luke started laughing and eventually snorted so hard

Tryg couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’m sorry,’ he gasped. ‘I
am just … It’s been so long since …’ He turned away,
looking both sad and mortified, yet still smiling slightly.
‘It’s been a while since someone loved me.’

Tryg nodded and touched Luke’s calf. ‘I know that

feeling.’

‘Good, then you understand my wild, inappropriate

response.’

‘Pretty much.’
‘And I love you too. I never said that, did I?’
‘So we’re in love?’ Tryg said. He could see his heart

beating when he looked down at his chest.

‘We are.’
Tryg titled his head back and stared at the ceiling.

‘This is dangerous.’

‘But good,’ Luke said. He kissed Tryg’s knee – the

sweetest, weirdest gesture Tryg could remember from a
man. ‘Now let me show you what I found.’

‘What did you find?’ It was just sinking in that they

needed to move. They needed to head north, but Tryg
wasn’t sure where. Short of any news on the white van, it
would just be him following his own damn nose down a
big-ass highway.

Luke bounded off the bed and cleaned up with a towel.

He slipped into a pair of shorts and waved the scrap of
paper at Tryg. The one he’d scrawled on the night before.

123

‘Divination,’ he said.

‘Yeah?’ Tryg waited. ‘Doesn’t make any more sense to

me today than it did last night. Unless it means you and
your hoodoo voodoo meltdown was a form of divination.’

‘Technically it was,’ Luke said. ‘I was having a vision?

I was seeing? Whatever it was, what I was picking up was
not in the here and now. I got more last night after you
passed out – another word. It confused me, so while you
slept and I watched your fine self snore –’

‘I don’t snore,’ Tryg said.
‘Yeah. OK, keep saying that.’ Luke snickered.
Tryg groaned and flopped back. ‘Already he’s picking

on me.’

Luke hit the bed and kissed Tryg’s belly, making the

muscles jump. ‘I looked while you were slumbering oh so
perfectly without a snore in sight and I found that part of a
name. A very tiny town. I mean, like I needed to put the
map up to my face to even see the place, and that’s on a
map of New York. It’s near Buffalo and it’s not even on
the big map.’

‘Are you going to tell me the name or am I going to

have to flog it out of you?’

Luke cocked his head as if considering the offer. ‘Not

this time. But let’s revisit that. It’s Divination Falls.
Divination Falls,’ he repeated. ‘It’s a place. And only the
word “Falls” is on the map, like a marker to a landmark as
opposed to an actual town. But I’m sure I’m right.

‘And you’re wondering if that’s where they went?’
‘I am wondering if that’s where they went,’ Luke

agreed.

‘Let’s shower up, eat, and go find out.’

On the road, Tryg let the scent wash over him. He could
pick up the shifters he was after, he could smell that

124

fucking sage, but he could also smell fall leaves and
sunshine and cool wind. This was what love was like.
Made you stupid, made you soft, made you weak …
Made you happy.

‘What are you smiling about?’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes,’ Luke chuckled.
‘Sorry.’
‘Why are you sorry, Tryg?’
‘I have no idea.’ He patted Luke’s leg, secretly

revelling at the normalcy of the action. Patting his lover’s
leg. The possessive but sweet action of a man in love.
He’d forgotten what it was to feel normal. Not just Bolo.
The muscle. The enforcer. The thought sobered him. Most
likely, where they were going there would be a reason for
that side of him to come out. He didn’t want Luke to
know that side of him. Didn’t want there to be any chance
that he’d get caught in the crossfire.

‘Now you’re frowning. You sure are quick to change

your mood,’ Luke said.

‘Sorry. I’m just worried. I don’t want you to get hurt. I

don’t want you near this mess. I just want to –’

‘Put me in a glass box and protect me from everything

but sunlight?’

‘Yes,’ Tryg blurted and banged the steering wheel.
‘Well, that’s not going to happen, big scary lion. That

is not what we’re here for. We’re here to save the girl –’

‘If she needs saving,’ Tryg interjected.
‘Exactly,’ Luke said. ‘We don’t even know if that’s the

case. It looks like, at this point, she’s the problem.’

‘She’s turned. She’s bad. Her shift … She went the

dark way,’ Tryg said, using an antiquated term.

‘She went the dark way?’
‘I told you. Some shifters, when they turn –’

125

‘Go nutso,’ Luke said.
‘Exactly.’
‘I keep picking up scared,’ Luke said, frowning.
‘Wouldn’t you be scared if you went crazy?’ Tryg

asked.

Luke shrugged. ‘I guess. But I have to wonder if I

went crazy, would I even be aware of it? Usually crazy
people think they’re totally normal. They think everyone
else is nuts.’

‘I’m telling you I’ve never heard of it.’

‘It’s up this road,’ Luke said softly.
The gas station attendant shook his head, clearly

exasperated and amused with Luke. ‘I’ve lived here all
my life and there is no – Divination Falls,’ he sneered.
His nametag read “Beetle” and Tryg couldn’t help but
wonder about the story behind that name.

‘Thanks,’ Tryg said. ‘We’ll find it ourselves.’ He

grabbed Luke’s arm, catching sight of another employee
watching them from the doorway. The guy nodded and
quickly ducked into the back room. As he went, Tryg’s
nose trembled. The guy was a shifter. He couldn’t tell
what kind, but he could pick up the difference in scent
even over the smell of chili cheese dogs, old frozen pizza
under heat lamps, gas, and oil.

Still, he led Luke to the front door and out they went.

‘I can’t believe that assho –’

‘Hush up,’ Tryg said softly. ‘I think the asshole was

telling the truth. He really doesn’t know where it is.’ They
walked quickly to the Thunderbird and Luke climbed in.
Tryg glanced around and saw the guy back by the garage
bay. He nodded again, and Tryg held up a subtle finger
before climbing in and turning the key. He drove over
toward the garage and rolled his window down.

126

The guy leant in and smiled. ‘Your friend is right. It’s

down this road. There’s a red barn on the left of the road.
There’s a busted-up Dodge pickup that’s seen better
days – like having glass in the windows and not having a
nest of birds in the engine – in the side yard. Beyond that
barn is a little gravel road that leads way back into the
woods. Take that road.’

‘Will do,’ Tryg said.
‘Thanks,’ Luke added.
‘No problem. I’m asking, though, before I send you

there, shifter, why you’re taking a human and what you
want.’

‘First off, he’s good. He’s an empath and he’s with me.

Secondly, we’re here for the white van with the black
rose,’ Tryg said matter-of-factly.

‘Then hurry and fix it,’ the guy said, standing.
Tryg held out a hand and the man shook it. ‘Tryg,’ he

said.

‘Jessup,’ the man answered. ‘That van’s bad news. Go

on, fix it.’

‘Will do.’ The small hairs on Tryg’s neck stood up

when he heard the words “bad news”.

As he drove away, Luke whispered, ‘They were drawn

but we don’t want their kind.’

‘What?’
Luke said it again. ‘They were drawn but we don’t

want their kind.’

‘What are you talking about, Rabbit?’
‘That’s what was in my dream. The town calls to

shifters. That’s why that guy knew where it was and the
other man didn’t. That guy was a shifter.’

Tryg nodded to confirm, and headed out down the

bleak, deserted road.

Luke went on, ‘The town doesn’t want Abigail and her

127

fellow travellers, but she’s a shifter and so is Dinah, so
they’re watching but not acting.’

‘If it draws shifters why did you pick up on it? Like

Jessup just pointed out, you’re human.’

‘But I’m a seeing human. At least, I seem to be now.

I’ve changed. So I’m …’ He shook his head.

‘Special?’ Tryg grinned.
Luke nodded, laughed nervously. There was a sharp

bite of hysteria in that sound and the pungent smell of
anxiety on him.

‘Why get so upset? You are special,’ Tryg said. His

voice was gruff. He wasn’t used to saying nice things,
sweet things. He was willing to get a little used to it for
Luke.

Luke smiled and said, ‘Just drive, lion. I already love

you. Don’t make me get all gushy.’

128

Chapter Twenty-one

They’d been driving for ever, it seemed. The sun had been
fresh and new when they’d left and the moon was a fat
blob in the sky now. Luke’s teeth were chattering as Tryg
parked at the end of the road. He tried to imagine a town
so small that it wasn’t known by humans. Or a town
entirely inhabited – or almost – by shifters. He found a
flannel in the back of the car and gave it to Luke. ‘Put this
on before your lips turn blue.’

Luke pulled it on without argument. Even as he got

dressed, Tryg was dropping his clothes.

‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to scope it out real fast before I take you up

there. I want to make sure it’s safe to take you up there.’

Luke said nothing, just pulled the jacket closer to his

body. ‘I suppose it would be a waste of breath to ask you
to be careful.’

‘I’m always careful,’ Tryg said. When Luke looked

dubious, he chuckled. ‘I swear. I am.’ He leant in, utterly
naked, and kissed Luke on the mouth. It was always a
reoccurring surprise to Luke how soft the boy’s lips were.

‘Be careful. Please.’ Luke touched Tryg’s mouth.
‘Promise.’
Then he shifted, letting his body revel in the freedom

of motion and transformation. Simultaneously, the world
became more muted and sharper. He moved just to relish
the ease of movement for a minute, and then spared one

129

fast glance back toward Luke to reassure himself that the
kid was OK.

Luke gave him a finger wave, looking part amused and

part amazed. ‘Be careful, big boy,’ he said.

Then Tryg was off, sliding through the woods to find

the top of the road and the town.

The leaves crunched under the pads of his feet, the

wind blew chilled air through his mane. His muscles
gathered, bunched, relaxed as he loped through a thick bit
of trees that seemed to block the town from the world
below. He liked the idea of this restricted place. Most
likely it was somehow magically hidden, a charm or spell
laid over the space so that it wasn’t noticed by average
people, and if it was noticed, it was quickly forgotten.

He smelled a lot of them. All kinds of shifters. Wolves,

lions, bears, coyotes, foxes … He smelled those fluid
shifters that could be anything, and glanced around the
woods to see if maybe a bird or a lizard or a bug might be
tracking him. If so, it was fine, he meant no harm. Only to
check and see if it was a safe space to bring his mate.

Mate …
His Rabbit … How quickly that had happened. Dare he

be happy? Just thinking he might terrified him. Made him
feel small and vulnerable, even in animal form.

Tryg shook off the worry. Worry would only mess up

his senses.

He prowled the edges of the woods, looking for a fence

of any kind. None to be found. The perimeter of this place
was strictly magical. There were no literal fences or gates
and he felt bad, knowing that the crazy lioness had been
drawn here, that the small town would have to deal with
whatever drama was coming.

But getting the general vibe off Divination Falls, Tryg

had an overwhelming urge to live here. Move here with

130

Luke and be happy.

Happy. Who was he, all the sudden thinking about

being happy?

Luke jumped about a foot when Tryg returned. ‘Jesus

Christ, you are quiet when you’re a cat,’ he said,
clutching his head like he had a headache.

‘That’s the thing about cats.’ Tryg chuckled. He got

dressed and took a big breath of night air. It had dropped,
and he could see why Luke was shivering even in the
thick flannel jacket. This far north, it was chilly for the
human body.

‘But you’re not cold,’ Luke said, doing that weird

thing he did.

‘It’s because I’m what I am. We run hot. Very hot.

Usually, if an average doctor gets a hold of us, they want
to admit us because they think we’re running a high fever.
Always fun to try and explain.’

‘Shifters are known,’ Luke said.
Tryg slammed the car door and started the engine. He

didn’t turn the lights on, though. He didn’t need them and
he wanted their arrival at Divination Falls to be as low
key as possible. ‘Yes, we’re known. We’re also ridiculed,
sometimes feared, sometimes the object of study – very
often illegal – and sometimes they just don’t believe we
actually exist.’

‘But –’
‘And no, I’m not shifting in front of some doctor just

to prove myself, Rabbit. Do you pull out your heart to
prove you’re human? How about provoking one of those
visions to prove you’re mystical or whatever you are?’

Luke frowned.
Tryg gritted his teeth. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that to

sound bad. You’re mystical. You’re an empath, and now
you apparently – see things.’ He shrugged. ‘What I meant

131

was would you want to constantly run around having to
prove yourself?’

‘No,’ Luke said, his face softening.
‘Me either.’
At the top of the road they passed what could only be

described as a town square. A fountain in the centre
spouted water.

‘Saint Francis of Assisi,’ Luke said, grinning.
‘Whosawhat now?’ Tryg growled. His eyes constantly

scanned the area. He was waiting for an ambush of any
kind. From any direction. His body was taut with anxiety
and awareness, but his instinct detected no danger at the
moment. It was a mind-fuck of emotions.

‘I think you can relax and breathe,’ Luke said. ‘I don’t

feel anything. Other than you ready to crawl out of your
skin, that is.’

‘Hush,’ Tryg said.
‘Saint Francis of Assisi,’ Luke whispered. ‘The patron

saint of animals.’

‘I don’t do saints. Or God. Or angels or –’
‘I get it. I get it.’ Luke said, sounding mildly annoyed.

‘You’re a loner. Bolo.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Tryg snapped. Then he stopped

the car and flipped the headlights on.

‘Damn,’ Luke said.
‘Yep. One white van sporting one black rose.’
It was parked outside a bar called The Den.
‘Should we go in?’ Luke asked.
‘I should go in.’ Tryg sighed.
‘Why just you?’
‘This isn’t your fight, Luke. There’s no reason for you

to be involved or possibly hurt. We know these people are
dangerous, and I’m certain at least one is crazy.’

‘You called me Luke.’

132

‘It is your name,’ Tryg said, watching the door to the

bar. It swung open and a laughing couple came out. He
sniffed. Two wolves, if his senses were accurate. They
glanced his way, stared for a moment, then hurried off.

‘What I mean is you didn’t call me Rabbit.’
Tryg turned to him, took a handful of hair, and tugged

gently until Luke looked him in the eye. ‘Look, this is not
do I love you or do I like you or any of that shit. This is
crazy shifters and religious types who worship things that,
if memory serves, have tentacles and whatnot. This is me
making sure you are safe. Because I do.’

‘You do what?’ Luke said, but he cracked a half grin.
‘Love you, Rabbit. Even though you are being a giant

pain in the ass.’

‘You wish.’ Luke looked down. Even in the dark light,

Tryg felt certain he was blushing.

‘No. You wish,’ Tryg countered. He chuckled despite

the warning bells and whistles going off inside him. ‘And
if we get through this horrible task, you might get your
wish.’

‘Who said it was a wish?’ Luke asked. ‘I’m much

more of a receiver than a giv –’

His words were cut off because someone was knocking

on the window. A big man in mechanics overalls was
looking in. Behind him stood the laughing couple from
the bar.

Tryg heard himself emit a low growl. It was the only

way to describe the sound that flew out of him. This was a
big man. A very big man, and before his mind could even
supply the mental image to his instinctive question, what
is this man, his mouth said it.

‘Bear.’
‘Jesus. He’s huge,’ Luke said. Because they were only

looking at his thighs through the car window when the

133

man stood up straight.

Tryg rolled down the window but didn’t open the car

door. ‘Yeah?’ He tried to sound self-assured and curious.
To himself, he just sounded terrified.

‘Do you mind pulling around to the side over by the

fountain?’ the big man asked.

‘Why is that?’ Tryg ran a finger over the keys but

didn’t start the car.

‘We have something to discuss.’ The guy bent at the

waist to bring his large head into view. His eyes were the
colour of moss and his mouth was thin but generous.
When he smiled, Tryg got the sense that the man was a
good-humoured, easy kind of person despite his enormous
size. Few people made Tryg feel small. Next to this guy
he felt like one of Gulliver’s Lilliputians.

‘And who are you, if you don’t mind me asking?’
Another smile, another head shake. ‘I’m Slaughter.

Sheriff of Divination Falls. We’ve been expecting you.’

‘Jesus,’ Luke piped up, sounding suddenly scared.

Tryg didn’t have to be an empath to pick up on that
emotion. ‘What kind of a name is Slaughter for a sheriff?’

The sheriff laughed, tossing his head back as he did.

Tryg couldn’t help but marvel at the bearish mannerisms.
Did he act this much like a cat in human form? And if he
did, why had no one ever said? ‘Slaughter’s my last name.
Luck of the draw, just like yours. First name is Sam.’

‘Sam Slaughter,’ Luke said. ‘That’s not much better.’
Sheriff Slaughter’s head shot up and he looked down

again, his face suddenly serious, his generous smile gone.
‘Come along, lion. Move over there so we can talk. Make
quick of it, will you?’

He stood, nodded at Tryg, and then moved across the

square to the fountain as if he were simply patrolling.
‘Let’s go,’ Tryg muttered.

134

‘I don’t like the feel of this,’ Luke said.
‘What? Slaughter? He’s a good guy. He’s fine. He’s

such a bear – that’s what he is, by the way – in the way he
acts. Do I look that much like a cat when I’m human?’
Tryg started the car and backed out of their parking space.
Then it was a matter of slowly driving around the wide,
cobblestoned town square to head back toward the
fountain. Close by, he heard the hiss of a waterfall.
Obviously where the Falls in Divination Falls came from.

‘Yes. You move like a cat. When you are tired more

than anything. Or hyper-aware.’

‘Hunh. I never knew.’
‘It’s hot.’ Luke laughed.
‘Thank you, Rabbit.’ Tryg grinned, but the smile left

his face when he parked and the sheriff was back.

He got out and Luke followed. This time it was Tryg

picking up on the boy’s emotions. He was scared. Tryg
motioned for him to come and stand by him. He put a
hand on Luke’s shoulder and whispered, ‘It’s fine. I have
your back. They mean you no harm.’

‘You should be able to pick up on that, empath,’

Slaughter said. His voice was as big as his smile and his
stature.

Luke jumped a little and Tryg had to suppress a laugh,

lest the kid think he was making fun of him. ‘How do you
know what I am?’ Luke asked.

‘I can tell. The same way he can tell I’m a bear and I

can tell he’s a lion and Tammy here is wolf.’ Slaughter
shrugged. ‘I can just tell.’

‘Um … Hey?’ the guy said.
‘Oh, Fenwick is a wolf too. And sensitive, so we don’t

want to leave him out.’ Slaughter winked, and Tryg was
relieved to see Luke smile.

‘If you’re the sheriff, why are you dressed like that?’

135

Luke asked.

He was pressed so tight against Tryg’s side, it was a

wonder they weren’t sealed together from Tryg’s heat.
Arm to arm, thigh to thigh, Tryg wondered if they
resembled oddly off-kilter Siamese twins.

Slaughter gave another laugh. ‘Even sheriffs have time

off, son. I was working on my Chevy.’

‘Chevy,’ Tryg said.
‘Yeah. It’s a ’68 and –’
‘Can we get back to it?’ Luke snapped. Tryg hadn’t

seen him on edge since they met. He felt bad for the kid.

If Luke weren’t so keyed up, Tryg would have found it

amusing. His Rabbit, getting snippy with a giant bear.

Sheriff Slaughter looked chagrined. ‘He’s right, you

know. Anyway, we have three girls and two guys in there.
It’s a weird situation. When they first showed up we
obviously knew that two of them were shifters. Whenever
they were around we could smell wild fear and –’

‘Let me guess, pot?’ Tryg said.
Slaughter nodded. ‘That or –’
‘Sage.’ Tryg sighed. ‘I really have to say up front, I

think they’re burning it on purpose.’

‘I’m starting to think that. But I’m also starting to

think the pot is to fatten and happy up the three humans
and the dark-haired girl.’

Abigail.
‘I thought we thought that Abigail –?’ Luke started.
‘Excuse me for a second.’ Tryg dialled Virgil. There

was no way he was dealing with the pride leader on this
one. He’d never get off the phone.

Luke looked confused and more than a bit scared. The

sheriff just looked interested.

When poor Virgil answered, Tryg was off like a shot.

‘Virg, let me ask you something. Dinah Willoughby, how

136

old is she?’

‘She turned 18 at the end of last year.’
He frowned. ‘When did she change?’
Virgil laughed. ‘That’s the kicker. She never did. Her

daddy is human. One in like – a kajillion mixed breeds
don’t change. Often they’re prayed for – by the human
parent, at least – but not this time. It was a big sad event
when Dinah didn’t change last year.

A bigger frown. Tryg could feel it creasing his face

and weighing heavy on his skin. ‘Fuck.’

‘Why?’
‘I think I might have a vague clue of what’s going on.

This whole religion of Malus’s… What do they believe?
Nutshell it for me.’

‘They believe the old gods live just beyond the veil of

what we can see. They believe those gods desire sacrifice
and blood and magic. And in return they can bring you
magic, or augment your magic, or grant your desires.’

‘Like being able to shift in a shifter community?’
‘I – well – Tryg, you don’t think that little Dinah –’
‘Gotta go. I’ll call you back when I know more, Virg.

In the meantime, keep an eye on Abigail’s family, will
you? Something’s keeping her docile. She’s in a shifter –
village, for lack of a better word, and she hasn’t cried out
for help. I’m thinking they’ve threatened her folks and her
siblings. And possibly she’s being drugged. Fun times.’
His body was tightly wound, so much so he damn near
felt like he was vibrating.

‘Will do. I’ll get some guys to keep an eye on them.

On the down-low.’

‘Thanks, man. Watch your back,’ Tryg said.
‘Always.’ Virgil laughed and hung up.
‘What do you think?’ Luke asked.
‘Do tell.’ The sheriff cocked an eyebrow and the wolf

137

couple leant in.

‘We’ve been after them because we figured Malus had

abducted them. Then I thought the new lion – Abigail –
had shifted and gone by the wayside – Gone off the dead
end. It happens. But now, I think that the little one – the
dark-haired one – is the one we’re after. She never
shifted, she’s half human. And she’s pissed. The fear you
keep smelling, that’s Abigail’s.’

‘And the poor girl shifted for the first time in the

middle of all this chaos and fear?’ Luke sighed. ‘No
wonder she’s giving off a crazy vibe.

Tryg nodded, his brain scrambling to figure out what

the next step should be.

‘But the van is Malus, right?’ Slaughter said. ‘We

haven’t run them out on a rail, because in case you
haven’t pieced this together, Divinity Falls is a sanctuary
for shifters. If you are a shifter, or with a shifter who
arrives, we give shelter. Unless we have cause not to.’

‘And as of now you haven’t had cause to,’ Luke said.
Slaughter shook his head. ‘Besides making everyone a

bit twitchy? Nope. Not a bit of reason.’

‘But they are weird. Being around them makes us

antsy,’ Tammy said, and Fenwick nodded.

‘Strange,’ Fenwick chipped in. ‘And I’m pretty weird,

so that’s saying something.’

Slaughter let out a guffaw. ‘Guess I should go put on

my uniform. Time to have a chat with them since I have
official means now. ‘This man –’ he cocked an eyebrow.

Tryg stuck out his hand and the sheriff took it and

shook. ‘Tryg Avondale. This is my – boyfriend Luke
Dorchester. He’s a woo-woo mind-reading type.’

Luke elbowed him and grunted.
‘Nice to meet you fellas. Now, you come up with any

ideas of how you want to handle this while I change. Then

138

we’ll go have a chat with that clan in there and find out
what’s really going on and who’s really in charge. Wait
here, will you?’

Off went the sheriff without waiting for an answer.
‘See that?’ Luke whispered as they hurried off.
‘What?’
‘You called me your boyfriend and they didn’t even

react. Not a blink.’

‘They were just being polite. Trust me, shifters are all

about procreation. And in case you missed the memo, we
can’t.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Luke said. ‘Remember, I can read

emotions. They reacted no stronger than if you’d said
wife while introducing a woman.’

Tryg turned to Luke and grinned. ‘So … Already

angling for marriage, are you?’

Luke’s mouth opened, closed and opened again

dramatically, but no sound came out. Tryg found himself
genuinely laughing despite the fucked-up situation. ‘I’m
just kidding, Rabbit. Shut your mouth.’

Luke did as told with an audible snap.

139

Chapter Twenty-two

People were in and out of the bar and Tryg felt exposed.
If they were going in there as a group, he wanted to wait
until they were a group. If Dinah was as bug-ass crazy as
he thought, he didn’t want her to go off the deep end until
he was prepared.

The door swung open again, emitting a trickle of

laughing patrons. Few of them were drunk. It took a lot of
liquor to get a shifter drunk and it was damn near
impossible on soft drinks like wine and beer.

‘I have a bad feeling,’ Luke said. He shivered visibly

and Saint Francis of Assisi let loose his constant trickle of
water from his hands. A bronze bird sat perched on his
shoulder; a small woodland creature Tryg couldn’t make
out was in the cuff of his robe.

‘Don’t. It’s fine. You’re safe.’
‘None of us is safe,’ Luke said, his gaze darting

around. His anxiety apparent.

‘We’ll be fine.’
‘I hope so.’
Tryg groaned and rubbed his head, doing his own fast

scan of the area. Rabbit was freaking him the fuck out.
This was a teenage girl they were talking about. Crazy or
not, she was still a teenage girl.

‘It’s not just her,’ Luke said.
‘God damn it, stop doing that,’ Tryg hissed, but he

laughed. ‘It wigs me out.’

140

‘Sorry. But it’s not. It’s not just her we have to worry

about. Do you know that Malus believes the world is held
at bay from the otherworld by a very thin membrane?
Like a placenta. And things – powerful things, old
things – can be birthed into our reality.’

‘What a great metaphor,’ Tryg said and rolled his eyes.
‘Dude, whether you buy it or not doesn’t mean it’s

wrong. I’m getting it now. It’s like …’ He shivered, blue
eyes wide. ‘Downloading into my head from them. I think
they’re so out of it their thoughts are wide open to anyone
who can pick up on that kind of stuff.’

‘I know. So let’s stop worrying until we need to. Here

he comes …’

In uniform, Slaughter looked even more ursine. The

brown sheriff’s uniform made him lumber even more
thanks to the heavy equipment belt. He held up a huge
hand and smiled at Tryg. ‘Please, save the Yogi jokes.’

‘No worries there, sheriff. You’re a wee bit large for

me to be fucking with you.’ Tryg chuckled.

A smaller figure lurked behind Sheriff Slaughter. A

pretty blonde woman with pale skin. The streetlights
revealed surreal blue eyes that rivalled even Luke’s. Hers
were the colour of seawater. A starling aquamarine.

‘This is Eliot,’ Slaughter said. ‘Are we ready to go in

there?’

‘You are?’ Tryg said, sticking his hand out to shake

with the woman.

‘The town seer,’ she said, giving him a shy shake.

Then she ducked her head as if they were flirting. It
almost made Tryg laugh. Next to him, Luke perked up.
‘What do you think the divination in Divination Falls is
for?’ she teased.

‘Nice to meet you, Eliot. I assume you’re here for your

super seer powers?’ He liked her on sight. She laughed

141

but said nothing. Tryg addressed Slaughter. ‘Do you think
it’s wise for us to do this in a crowded bar?’

Slaughter shrugged. ‘I don’t think it matters. A bar full

of shifters can be a deterrent or they can be built-in back
up. Since no one here has taken a liking to this group, I
doubt we’re dealing with a deterrent. But we can empty
the bar if you want. I just have to call Kentucky and ask
him to ring the bell.’

‘Kentucky?’ Tryg asked.
‘He’s a fox. He’s from … Well, you know.’
‘Kentucky, maybe?’ Luke laughed. Slaughter smiled.
‘You’ll get to know everyone,’ Eliot said, softly.
‘How’s that?’ Tryg asked.
‘Because we’ll be staying,’ Luke said, rubbing his

head as if it ached.

When the town seer nodded, Tryg felt like the guy at

that party who’d heard the beginning of the joke but
missed the punchline. ‘Come again?’

‘Later,’ Luke said. ‘Let’s deal with them. Something

weird is going on. Well, weird has become normal.
Something more is going on, I should say.’

‘Whoa, whoa,’ Tryg said, putting a restraining hand on

Luke’s chest as the sheriff started forward. ‘We have two
seers, granted, one relatively new,’ he said, tapping
Luke’s chest. ‘But still, two of them and we don’t know
what’s going to happen?’

‘Every person in there will have their own reaction to

the situation,’ Eliot said. She smiled that secret smile of
mystics and magicians. ‘Each one of them also has one,
two, or seven alternatives depending on mood and the
reaction of others. So … A vision is a best case scenario
at best.’

‘So to speak.’ Luke laughed.
‘So to speak!’ Tryg said, voice raspy. ‘So … What’s

142

the point?’

She shrugged. ‘We’re right, more often than not.’
‘Jesus. OK, tell me what you see in three, two, one …’
‘Blood,’ they both said in unison. Tryg almost smiled

until he realised fully what they’d said.

‘Whose blood?’
Again, in unison, they shrugged. ‘That’s the part we

don’t know.’

‘Christ, that’s the most important part.’
‘Let’s go,’ Slaughter said, moving along. ‘We can

exercise some control by acting and knowing our plan.
Which would be to roust them and find out what’s going
on. Something bad, for sure.’

‘They’ve left dead bodies – animal and human – so …

Yeah. The human was one of their own. The third man.’
Tryg felt the tension in his jaw and tried to relax it.

‘Even better reason to go and grab them and deal with

the situation immediately.’ Slaughter moved with intent,
his big body a blur. Tryg kept up easily, but Luke and
Eliot had to scurry to stay in step.

‘Whoa. Maybe these two should stay out here,’ Tryg

said as they approached the bar.

Slaughter ran a big hand over his face. ‘You know, I

have to agree with him. You guys are the magical bit of
this equation, maybe you need to –’

‘Sam,’ Eliot sighed. ‘I can handle myself as well as

anyone. Just because I’m a woman –’

‘It’s got nothing to do with you being a woman,’

Slaughter said.

‘It’s to do with you being a human,’ Tryg interjected.

‘We have enough on our plate with crazy humans and
crazy shifters. You guys did your jobs,’ he said, trying to
be calm and not snap due to the time constraints of the
situation. ‘Now let us do ours.’

143

‘Isn’t that a line from Silence of the Lambs?’ Luke

mumbled. ‘That’s how Jodie Foster gets the Podunk
townies out of the mortuary.’

A bark of laughter burst out of Tryg before he could

stop it. ‘Jesus. You’re right. I didn’t mean to –’ He waved
a hand as something broke in the bar. Someone screamed.

Slaughter looked like he couldn’t decide if he should

go for his service pistol or shuck his clothes and shift.
Tryg was starting to feel the urge to shift, but they needed
to assess. Neither of them knew what the hell was going
on in there.

‘Get back,’ Tryg said, leaving no room for argument

from the humans. He pushed Luke back toward a stone
wall and prayed Eliot would follow. Thank God, she did.

Something else broke and someone else yelled and

then the door flew open and a handful of people came
running out. Slaughter and Tryg pushed forward against
the crush of bodies and Tryg had a moment of real
confusion. He smelled panic and worry and anger. Not
unusual, but the anger outweighed anything else and most
of these people had somewhat vicious alter egos. What he
was pretty certain was a coyote shifter rushed past him,
and a hyena. Two pretty ballsy species. So what the …?

When he and Slaughter managed to get inside, Tryg

realised the waving tentacle in the middle of the bar floor
might have something to do with the hurry and panic.

‘Took you long enough, Bolo,’ Dinah said, holding a

pretty hefty sacrificial knife up to Abigail’s neck. ‘Didn’t
you think I’d smell you a mile away?’

‘How did you smell me, half-breed?’ he asked, his

voice as cruel as he could make it. She was ashamed of
that part of herself, so he’d pounded it until it throbbed.
An infected thumb hit with a hammer.

Her pretty face turned into a snarl and she pressed the

144

sharp blade to Abigail’s throat. Abigail looked stunned
and exhausted. Maybe Dinah was feeding her more than
the pot.

‘Oh wait, I bet you can smell like me and hear like me.

You feel the urges to shift and the heightened senses of a
lioness, but you simply can’t shift, right? You have the
urge and the biology but your body just won’t do what it’s
supposed to do. Is that what this is all about?’

He waved a hand at the swaying tentacle. It had risen

up fully through a crack in the stone floor. It was roughly
as thick as his thigh at its thinnest point. As big as a tree
trunk at the thickest bit.

The thickest visible bit …
‘This is all about me getting my power. Getting the

power to be what I’m supposed to be and – more.’ She
pressed her lips together until her mouth was nothing
more than a thin line.

‘So you hijack a brand new shifter and bring her here

to … What?’

He feared he knew the answer.
‘We tried some spells.’ She sighed, running the dull

edge of the dagger back and forth across Abigail’s throat.
Abby looked like she was going to come unglued at any
moment.

Tryg stepped forward and Slaughter followed suit. The

dark, mottled tentacle took a swipe at them and the three
Malus members chuckled. But they smelled off a bit to
Tryg. Like maybe they weren’t 100 per cent sure about
the crazy chick running the show.

‘But the spells didn’t work,’ he said bluntly.
‘No, they did not. The dark ones didn’t want a few

raggedy animals and a single useless piece of shit of a
man out in the woods. But along the way we learned of
this place, felt its draw. And we realised the power it had.’

145

‘It’s a shifter haven. Or a magical haven,’ he amended,

remembering Eliot and Luke and the little bit of info he
had on Divination Falls.

‘There’s more,’ Slaughter muttered as the tentacle

waved and the stone floor made a creaking groan.

Tryg and Slaughter took a step back as Abigail started

to weep in earnest and the three Malus members watched
with what appeared to be drunken glee.

Is she doping them all?
Dinah caught his questioning look and smiled. The

smile made Tryg’s balls want to shrivel up and crawl back
into his body. It was the smile of someone so far gone
they had no gauge of right and wrong. No grasp on
reality. ‘Spoon weed,’ she said. ‘A pinch in the cheek
when they’re asleep keeps them in line.’

Spoon weed was a hefty natural narcotic and you had

to know how to use it or the person ingesting it usually
died pretty fast. Tryg tried to remember the antidote and
failed. Slaughter nudged him and he barrelled on.

‘What about this place?’ he asked, trying to gain her

attention. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dinah, the broken shifter,
was going to want blood – Abigail’s blood – to feed this
monstrosity.

And here all this time I thought they were whackos.

Turns out gods with tentacles exist. Or at least monsters
with them.

He felt Luke moving toward the door, smelled his fear

but also his determination. He wanted to turn and tell him
to stop, but had no intention of drawing attention to his
lover. Not with this crazy bitch. He thought as hard as he
could at Luke to warn him off.

Stay out. Stay away. Leave.
And he let his fear rise up inside him for Luke to feel.

Apparently the nut burger Dinah felt it too.

146

‘Oh so afraid. Does it have something to do with that

pretty waif behind you, Bolo?’

‘Don’t call me that,’ he growled, operating on rote.
‘I know it’s Tryg, but do you prefer Hammer? Muscle?

Justice? That one?’

He’d been called all of them at one point or another but

“that one” was the one that hurt the most. He was the one
outspoken gay man in the pride. Apparently, with the
group he was bred from, it was fine to be gay, not OK to
speak up. Fuck that shit.

‘Whatever you want,’ he said. ‘Pick one, just let her

go. Give her to me and how about I take her place?’

He heard Luke gasp and internally cringed. The boy

had just shown his hand. His caring for Tryg could be
brutally bad. And Tryg’s surge of protectiveness could be
fatal to him. This girl wasn’t right in the head and she’d
already killed. The guy at the campground had been one
of the Malus crew but he hadn’t deserved to die that way.
No one did.

Then fate intervened – or more Sheriff Slaughter than

fate – because while they were all distracted, he shot the
tentacle. The appendage went wild, seeing as it was
wedged in the stone floor, apparently, trapped between
worlds. It knocked against Dinah hard enough to make
her drop the knife and fumble her hold on poor Abigail.

Tryg rushed in and grabbed Abigail, practically tossing

her to Slaughter who moved her physically outside the
door. The poor thing kept muttering “they made me do it
all, they made me” over and over again. Tryg tried to herd
Luke out with Eliot, but Luke stood his ground. And then
the younger man sealed his fate when the still-flailing bit
of some possibly dark god reared toward Tryg. Luke leapt
forward and a man from Malus – the one with a severe
buzz cut – grabbed Luke around the neck. He was as big

147

as an oak and looked just as smart. His eyes were hazy
and far away, though, and Tryg had to wonder how much
spoon weed he’d been fed. The guy looked present but
distant.

He held Luke firm as Dinah recovered. She was a tall

girl with long, dark hair and brown eyes that were shining
with the glittery determination of the possibly insane.

As the tentacle made a swoop Slaughter muttered, ‘I

probably should have told you a bit about our little home.
At least the part up on the top of the hill …’

‘Which is where we are?’ Tryg guessed. They both

kept their eyes pinned to Dinah, who reached out and
snagged the female Malus member by her long, red braid.
Tryg tried desperately not to panic that this band of
lunatics had Luke. His Luke. He couldn’t let his anxiety
show.

This doesn’t bode well.
‘It’s built on a huge chunk of quartz,’ Dinah crowed,

smiling.

Slaughter gave a sharp nod to confirm.
‘So, Bolo, can you tell the class what quartz is good

for?’

‘A conductor,’ Luke muttered from under the grip of

the silent behemoth. The boy’s heart was beating fast, his
blood high. Tryg could smell it, and by the way Dinah’s
nostrils fluttered, he knew she could too.

‘A conductor. Right. Your fragile little human is

smart,’ she said. ‘And magical, if my nose is right.’

‘Too bad the rest of you doesn’t work as good as your

nose,’ Tryg countered, trying to keep her pissed and off
kilter.

The tentacle waved again. It was looking a bit listless –

a bit grey. Tryg let himself breathe a sigh of relief. It was
losing the power of threat, wavering out of its element.

148

‘Blood is blood,’ Dinah said and shrugged. She had the

fast movements of a shifter, because she turned, snagged
the girl from Malus, tugged her close, and slit her throat.
Blood leapt from the blade toward the waving appendage,
the split in the earth, the monstrous thing on the brink of
being birthed into this humble tavern.

‘Fuck,’ Tryg growled and meant to move toward her.
The unnamed man from Malus had one hand on

Luke’s forehead and one on his jaw. When Tryg advanced
he pulled just enough to make his point. The silent
message was “I’ll snap his neck if you move any further”.

Dinah dropped the dead redhead as if she were no

more substantial than a banana peel. Slowly, the tentacle
started to yank her into the brutal crack in the floor.

‘Why?’ Tryg asked, and found he really wanted to

know. His eyes stayed pinned to Luke’s blue ones. He
wished he could make his gaze move, because staring at
him this way was only broadcasting his feelings. And
Luke’s value.

‘Because maybe they can give me what nature has seen

fit to withhold,’ Dinah said, moving forward to rub the
knife on the very tip of the tentacle. She caressed it like a
lover, and Tryg felt a shudder of revulsion work through
him.

He inched forward, toward the crack, toward the man

holding Luke.

‘Unh-unh-unhhhhh, Bolo,’ Dinah said. ‘I’m crazy – or

let’s say passionate – not blind. Don’t move.

‘Well, at least you know you’re crazy.’
She cocked her head and studied Luke. Hard to believe

this monstrosity of a person was only about 19. ‘Maybe
it’s just teenage hormones,’ she said, grinning.

Tryg grunted and her eyes narrowed. She went on in an

eerie voice. ‘Do you know what it’s like to live in a pride

149

and be the only person unable to shift? To have all the
heightened senses and hear all the stories and be the only
person who cannot come into yourself in your animal
form? It’s horrible. And demeaning. And they make
fun …’ She shook her head, moving toward Luke. She ran
a finger down his biceps, up his neck, over his chin.
Inspecting the man Tryg now realised he loved beyond
comprehension as if he were a piece of meat she was
considering for dinner.

‘Must suck to be you,’ Tryg said.
Slaughter put a hand on him, his face grim. He could

tell just like Tryg that this girl was insane. There was no
safe way to approach her.

‘It does,’ she said, her dark eyes boring into him. ‘But

look here, you brought me the best present ever. Maybe
the universe does love me. Maybe it’s paying me back for
all the years of anticipating my change and having
nothing at all happen.’ She reached out and touched the
tip of the tentacle. It was still smeared with blood, but the
blood appeared to have soaked in some and the dusty grey
appearance it had taken on had faded. The only thing
remaining of the redhead was a single pale hand poking
from the ragged breach in the concrete. The tentacle had
become a robust grey-black colour that reminded Tryg of
sealskin. It whipped again. There was a groaning crack as
the floor split just a bit wider and more of the monstrosity
slid free.

Tryg didn’t know where she was going with this, but

he did have to keep her talking. ‘Always happy to give a
gift to a pretty girl,’ he snorted.

Slaughter growled low in his throat. One hand on his

service pistol. Eliot had crept forward to fill the doorway
to the tavern. Everyone had cleared but for the three of
them, and for that Tryg was grateful.

150

‘Be careful,’ Eliot whispered.
‘Gee, thanks,’ Tryg snapped.
His eyes darted to Luke again and a sick sense of dread

slammed him as she leant in and touched Luke’s pretty
summer-coloured hair. ‘You brought me the thing needed
most for this spell. It was hard, you know. To get the spell
right with three stoned helpers and a barely controllable
newly shifting lion and a crowded fucking bar!’ She
stomped her foot like a spoiled toddler. ‘We had to do the
chant three times and I had to cut myself three times! You
have to show intent with blood, you know!’

Tryg chewed his lip, his body itching to shift. He could

do it, but he was afraid to set her off. If he set her off,
Luke could pay. Abigail sniffled. Slaughter twitched,
itching to act. Eliot was a fidgety presence behind him.
Luke looked calm as hell and Tryg would have given
anything to touch him because he knew that peace would
radiate through him too. But peace and calm would not
save his lover. Not by a long shot.

‘I didn’t know,’ he said.
She grinned and something about it – beyond the fact

that she was bugshit crazy – made his blood run cold.
‘But you brought me a prezzie, Bolo. You brought me the
one thing most pleasing to the ancient gods.’

He held his breath. His pulse a slamming wild thing

under his skin.

He cocked his head and she took that as a question.

‘You brought me innocent blood. Hard to come by. A
good-good boy full of nothing but love and hope and,
praise the old ones, so much light,’ she said.

Terror whipped through Tryg. He was going to shift,

he could feel it. His control over himself had dissolved. It
rarely happened barring being under huge stress or
suffering fatal illness. But here it went, he could feel it,

151

his body growing warm and loose and then taut again. His
clothes baulked under the pressure, and as he dropped
from two feet to four, he watched – terrified, horrified,
heartbroken – as she took her big knife and whipped it
across Luke's slender throat.

Tryg sprang.

152

Chapter Twenty-three

The rest came so fast, a muffled, wrapped-in-cotton
drumbeat of activity that he barely had time to
comprehend because his heart was breaking. He felt Eliot
rush forward and break Luke’s fall. His body’s fall. It was
easy to feel her, she was human. But Tryg hit Dinah like a
stone wall. He knocked her back, clamped his mouth to
her throat. Up close she smelled crazy – the wet leaves
and mud smell of a tainted mind. He wanted to shake her
until her neck broke, but even in his haze and his hurt he
knew he had to feed what she’d called forth.

He dragged her screaming toward the hole, and when

the tentacle whipped toward them, Tryg offered her up
like an appetiser at a fancy dinner. The tip of the thing
grabbed her now prone form and curled in on her. She
disappeared into the ragged crack with a lot of noise and
very little sympathy. Tryg barely noticed the bear that
rushed past him, snagging the final two Malus members
in his giant paws. He didn’t care if Slaughter killed them
or took them in. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered now.

He sat by the crack on guard, and didn’t bother to shift
back. A heavy grief had taken up residence in his chest
and he revelled in the feel of his animal side being in
charge. Below the fissure in the floor the tentacle lurked.
He could feel it, and had no idea how to close the breach.

Slaughter was outside the door in a pair of sweats

153

someone had provided him. His uniform lay in shreds by
the door. Eliot murmured behind him. Tryg refused to
turn around. He refused to go and see the body of
someone he’d loved. He’d lost enough people in his life.
He would not go and sit by the body and mourn.

Luke would understand.
She murmured a bit louder and he wondered if she was

giving last rights or performing some spell. Tryg focused
on the dry whisper-swish of the tentacle down below.
Presumably in the deep floor that had been poured atop a
chunk of quartz.

A hand touched his mane and he turned fast, roared so

hard it shook his bones. He felt the fur on his face part
with the power of the sound he made, felt the empty ache
of loss in his bones.

Eliot pressed her lips together. Her white blouse was

half missing and what remained was coated in blood.

Because they slit his throat, you moron. He’s gone.

They slit his throat right in front of you and you failed
him …

‘You need to come here, Tryg,’ she said softly. He

could tell she was accustomed to talking to shifters in
their animal state because she didn’t seem nervous – just
patient and calm. Just like Luke. Must be a seer thing, he
thought.

He laid flat by the crack and she gently sidestepped the

very end of the split in the floor to crouch by him. ‘You
need to come over here, Tryg,’ she said again. ‘Now.’

He turned his eyes her way and tried to look as scary

as he could. He did not want to move. He did not want to
see. Ever.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, not scaring off so easily.
Finally, he relented and stood. Three people rushed in

with Slaughter right behind them. They stood over the

154

crack with herbs and books and started to make a lot of
noise. Chanting, Tryg realised. His head hurt. He didn’t
want to know.

Eliot led him by a fistful of his mane and though he

wanted to baulk – he was never one to feel like a trained
animal – he went. He pushed his muzzle to Luke and
smelled that sweet, salty smell he loved. He also smelled
the tang of blood and the moist richness of ripped flesh,
but no fear. Had he been a man at that moment, he would
have come undone. Dropped to the floor and wept. But he
wasn’t a man, so he spread himself out next to the body
and rested his head against Luke’s belly.

Outside an ambulance arrived. Didn’t they know they

were too late?

A hand buried in his mane and tugged. A raspy voice

penetrated the haze of his grief and Tryg’s heart leapt.
‘Did you really think you’d get rid of me that easily?’
Luke asked.

And then it was a blur of movement and lights and a

gurney. Men rushed forward to gather up Luke, hook him
up to beeping things, and wheel him off. He wanted to
claw and bite and roar but in the dim rational space in his
head he knew he had to let them do their jobs.

Luke was alive, and just that single touch had brought

him down to a more peaceful place. Eliot crouched by
him and smiled. ‘It was mostly superficial. Lots of blood,
but she didn’t press hard enough to go deep. He’ll have a
scar but –’

Tryg let his body ripple, sway, shift … ‘Scars are sexy

as hell,’ he growled. And then, horrified, he did break
down for just a second. A sob ripped out of him and Eliot
patted his bare shoulder.

‘He’ll be fine, Tryg.’
‘Because of you, not me,’ he said. It broke his heart.

155

She shrugged. ‘I knew what to do. That blood couldn’t

get near that crack. His blood is pure, his heart is pure,
he’s so, so good –’

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ he barked, laughing dryly.
‘I was able to staunch the flow which saved him and,

in the end, saved us all. That blood would have been our
undoing. The final sacrifice – innocent blood. The B-
movies are wrong. Doesn’t have to be a virgin. Just good
intention, peace, love, light. All the stuff that makes Luke
Luke.’

He nodded. Slaughter lumbered in and shoved some

sweats at him. The crack had been dealt with and blessed.
Townies were busy putting orange traffic cones around
the fissure to keep people safe.

‘Where did they take him?’ Tryg asked, shoving his

legs into the sweats.

‘To hospital. We have one too, you know.’ Slaughter

winked to show he was kidding. ‘Come on and I’ll take
you there. The mystics have done their job here. No need
to guard that any more.’

‘Sheriff, they’re witches. You shouldn’t call them

anything but,’ Eliot said, but she smiled.

Slaughter nodded. ‘I meant no offence. At the moment,

I call them fucking heroes,’ he growled. ‘That thing is
gone. That’s all I care about.’

Tryg had a hard time comprehending when Slaughter
drove him and Eliot to the falls. He aimed his headlights
at the rushing water as the ambulance had, and the figure
of his lover became apparent. Three EMTs supported
Luke’s weight under the foamy fall of water.

‘The falls will help him heal.’ Eliot put a hand on

Tryg’s shoulder. ‘The quartz doesn’t just amplify magical
ability and help unbalanced girls call forth beasties from

156

the darkness,’ she said, with a tired chuckle. ‘It is mostly
used for good. We heal with it. We let it shield us from
the outside world.’

Tryg nodded. He yawned, exhausted. He wanted to

rush out there and snatch Luke away from the men, but
knew that was silly. That would hurt Luke, not help him.
Another yawn hit him as he watched the sluice of water
fall down over Luke’s pale form. As usual, Luke looked
calm, present. His body relaxed, not tense, surrendering.

I’d give anything to kiss him …
‘Soon,’ Eliot said and patted him again.
‘Christ,’ he growled. ‘Another person in my head.’
‘It’s coming off you in waves,’ she said, smiling.
‘You can stay with me tonight,’ Slaughter said. Then

we’ll ask our handy real estate agents to find you two a
home.’

‘But –’
Slaughter erupted in wild, booming laughter. His smile

lit his whole face and, despite the emotionally exhausting
night they’d all had, Tryg couldn’t help but smile in
return.

‘You are staying. You heard what your man said.’
‘I know, but –’
‘He’s right,’ Eliot interjected.
Tryg put his hands against his face and sighed. ‘I guess

I have no choice then, eh?’ His head snapped up. ‘What
about Abig –’

‘A cruiser is taking her home. She called her dad and

told him what you did. What Luke did. You’re welcome
back there with open arms, Bolo.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Tryg snapped. But then he smiled.

‘I’m not that person any more.’ His eyes strayed back to
watch Luke. He was itching to hold him, and to possibly
just sleep curled together for a year or three. ‘And that’s

157

not my home.’

‘This is,’ Eliot said, sounding oddly pleased.
The men helped Luke stand on his own feet and Tryg

welcomed the relief that spread through him, seeing his
rabbit walk under his own steam with very little help. ‘I
guess so,’ he said. ‘If that’s what Rabbit wants, I’m in.’

Just admitting it made him feel better.
‘Good, I’ll take you to my house.’
‘But I want to –’
‘The healers need to work on him. And they’ll bring

him home when they’re done,’ said the sheriff.

‘They’ll bring him to your house when they’re done?’

Tryg snorted, staring at Slaughter.

The bear shrugged. ‘We do things different around

here,’ he said.

The streets were quiet as Slaughter drove them home,

but Tryg couldn’t help feeling like he was being watched.
The sheriff pulled up in front of a small bungalow that
was half overgrown with ivy. A porch light burned,
illuminating the fairy tale quality of it.

‘I’m waiting for the big bad wolf to walk down the

road,’ he said.

‘He lives up the road at the church,’ Eliot said.
He waited for her to laugh and she didn’t. She opened

the door and patted Slaughter’s big shoulder. ‘You get
some rest, sheriff. Thanks for the ride.’

‘Thanks for the back-up,’ he said.
She shut the car door and he watched her unlock her

door and slip inside.

‘How long you been in love with her?’ Tryg asked.
Slaughter sighed, ran a huge hand over his face as if to

stifle his exhaustion. ‘For ever and a day.’

‘She have any idea?’ Tryg asked.
Slaughter put the car in gear and started down the road.

158

‘Not a clue.’

His house wasn’t quite as fairy tale cottage but it

certainly was picturesque. A small barn that had been
converted into a home, it backed up to a lush wood. Tryg
could hear the falls hissing as Slaughter let them in. ‘That
must be background noise to you all,’ he said.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ the big man said.
Tryg chuckled. ‘I still can’t believe I’m going to give

in and move here.’ He shook his head. He realised that
since he met Luke it had been a very short period of time,
and yet it felt so strange not to have him here.

‘You’ll like it. We’re very open. Not tradition and

definitely not judgmental,’ Slaughter said. He opened his
fridge and pulled out two beers without asking. Popping
the tops off, he slid one across the kitchen island to Tryg.

‘So this is when you tell me how open and friendly

you all are to gays like me?’ He swigged the beer and
caught the wince on Sam Slaughter’s kind face.

‘I just wanted you to know you were welcome. All

shifters are welcome,’ he said stiffly.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so much like a real

dick,’ Tryg said.

‘I think that might happen because sometimes you can

be a real dick,’ Slaughter said.

The comment caught Tryg off guard, and he ended up

choking on his beer. But when he caught his breath,
Slaughter was grinning and laughing. ‘Touché, sheriff.’

‘Sleep,’ Slaughter said, pointing to a loft. There was a

green door. ‘Guest room. Towels are in the linen closet, if
you want a shower there’s soap and shampoo and all that
stuff in your bathroom.’

‘I doubt I’ll stay awake long enough to pull back the

covers,’ Tryg said, taking the steps with heavy feet.

‘I hear ya,’ Slaughter agreed. ‘I’ll wake you if they

159

bring Luke.’

Just hearing that he might see Luke soon quickened his

pulse. ‘Thanks.’

When he crawled into the big, lumpy bed, he realised

that Divinity Falls had an effect on him similar to Luke’s
golden touch. It soothed him.

He managed to pull the quilt over himself before

falling asleep. Knowing Luke was safe, the deal for the
pride was done, and the knowledge that he was now a free
man would make it the sweetest sleep yet. It would only
be trumped by Luke coming home.

‘We need to find a place,’ he mumbled to himself.

‘We … That is so weird.’ He sighed, and then there was
just darkness.

160

Chapter Twenty-four

‘What do you think?’ Tryg asked, squeezing Luke’s hand.

Rabbit was still sort of pale and had an extra smile that

Dinah had carved into his throat with her knife. Lucky for
them all she’d had terrible grip and bad pressure and had
been too short for leverage. Plus, Luke had managed to
play up the injury to make it appear as if he’d suffered a
fatal wound. And yet when Tryg glanced at it, he couldn’t
help but feel a cold panic inside. He could have lost this
man. Could have lost him due to his pride and his job and
his life. And he wanted a new life now. A new start. It had
only been a few days since the disaster in the tavern, but it
felt like years.

‘I love it,’ Luke said, touching the wood bar on the

outdoor patio. ‘It’s so …’

‘Fairy tale?’ Tryg asked, glancing up at the tall

windows and the thick wood beams overhead. There was
a huge sunken living room, a loft, three bedrooms –each
more perfect than the one before –and a kitchen that made
even Tryg want to cook. The outdoor patio and cosy
backyard and fairy lights in the garden, that all was just
icing on a very tempting cake.

Mrs Brown, the real estate agent, was smiling like the

cat who’d eaten the canary. Which made sense, Tryg
realised, because if he wasn’t mistaken she was some sort
of lynx when she wasn’t dressed like Aunt Bea from the
Andy Griffith show.

161

‘We do pride ourselves on a nice town,’ she said.
‘And I’m welcome?’ Luke asked. His voice was faintly

scratchy and the doctor (the healers had confirmed) said it
should clear up in a few weeks. The scar could remain for
ever, but Tryg didn’t care.

‘Scars are sexy,’ Luke whispered, catching Tryg's

thought.

‘Out of my head, Devil Boy,’ he said, but he squeezed

Luke’s hand again.

‘You are most welcome, Luke,’ Mrs Brown said. ‘We

are a haven for shifters and magical folks and seers and so
many others. We try not to discriminate and we try to
offer a place for people to feel as if they are home.’ She
studied her clipboard for a minute and said, ‘After what
you did for this town, how could you be anything but
welcome?’

‘One could argue that we brought that sh – stuff down

on your town,’ Tryg said.

She shook her head. Unswayed. ‘No. They came of

their own volition and we felt duty bound to welcome
them until they proved themselves unwelcome. We did
the same with you.’

‘And the tentacle of a dark god, or at the very least a

beastie, arrived in your bar.’ Tryg chuckled.

‘And you made it go away. Your friend paid a dear

price,’ she said, nodding to Luke. ‘Nearly the dearest one
of all.’

Luke smiled, and turned his face to the open blue sky

as the wind blew. Already brightly coloured leaves rasped
across the stone patio. ‘We’ll take it,’ he said.

She beamed, thumped her clipboard, and clicked her

heels together in a schoolmarm-ish salute. ‘Excellent. I’m
going to go to the office and start drawing up the papers.
We have worked out an excellent payment plan given the

162

circumstances,’ she said. ‘You two follow along when
you’re done looking around.’

‘Excellent payment plan?’ Tryg asked, raising an

eyebrow as she bustled off.

‘Seeing as I’m a homeless drifter and you’re just out of

work muscle,’ Luke said. His eyes were shiny and he was
on the verge of laughing.

‘Ah, but I am not unemployed,’ Tryg said, pressing

Rabbit gently to the bar.

‘No?’
Tryg kissed him. He was so soft with Luke at the

moment. Afraid of damaging that which was healing.
‘No. The tavern has asked me to be the bouncer.’

‘The bouncer!’ Luke said, then he did laugh. ‘That’s

excellent.’

‘Yes.’ Tryg brushed his lips softly along Luke’s jaw.

‘Excellent. I can bounce shifters. Which is cool because
shifters can take what shifters can dish out. I don’t have to
worry about breaking someone.’

‘And this town is pretty serene.’ Luke touched the

front of Tryg’s Henley and dragged his fingers down the
bumpy ladder of Tryg’s abdomen.

The sensation wormed its way into Tryg. Under his

skin. Into his gut. Settling like coiled heat in his cock,
making his balls heavy with lust and need. He kissed
Luke again, thrusting his tongue into the warm recesses of
his mouth. ‘Careful,’ he said. ‘You’re still healing.’

‘Healing,’ Luke said thoughtfully. ‘What can help a

young man heal?’

‘An old man like me?’ Tryg asked, but couldn’t

control a surge of laughter.

Luke tsked and touched Tryg’s bottom lip. ‘I was

going to say pleasure. Touch me, lion-man,’ he whispered
and pressed his cheek to Tryg’s, sighing as if he could

163

never get enough of that sensation.

Tryg was pretty certain he could never get enough of

any sensation involving Luke. He walked him back with
as much control as he could muster, pressing Luke’s back
to the rough wood shingling of the house. They were
tucked away under the roof of the patio, blocked from
view but for a sliver of woods. It was perfect – nirvana,
heaven, home.

‘I’m going to control myself as best as I can,’ Tryg

said.

‘Please don’t,’ Luke murmured, pressing his lips to

Tryg’s pulse. Nipping at the skin unexpectedly, so that
goosebumps ran along Tryg’s skin.

‘Hush, Rabbit. Let me …’ He pulled Luke’s cock out

of his pants with almost trembling hands. He didn’t like to
think of how vulnerable the boy made him feel. How he’d
felt damn near ripped apart inside when he thought he was
dead. How he himself had felt dead, how he had wanted
to welcome death. He pushed all that away, concentrated
on handling the smooth, hard cock in his hand. Slow,
even strokes of his fist up and down until Luke was
holding his breath and smiling.

‘Now you …,’ Luke said. He reached for Tryg and

Tryg moved his hips just so, letting Luke access his fly.
With one hard yank, he pulled it open and took Tryg in
hand. His fist wrapped around Tryg’s cock was bliss, and
Luke smiled, saying again, ‘You.’ That one word was so
steeped in love it made Tryg’s eyes sting.

‘Us,’ Tryg muttered. This was going to be fast. ‘A

christening of our new house, Rabbit.’ Tryg pressed them
together – hot flesh against hot flesh – and wrapped his
hand around them. His cock rubbing the heated terrain of
Luke’s was maddening. It made him want to bend him
over and fuck him, suck his cock, have Luke’s mouth on

164

him, rut and fuck and come – but, in that quiet place
inside, it made him want to stay right here. For ever.

Tryg moved his hand up and down, up and down,

trying to move slow but wanting to move fast. Luke
placed his hand over Tryg’s, squeezing a bit harder so the
friction was more intense. They both watched, captivated,
as, hand to hand and flesh to flesh, they moved closer and
closer to release.

‘Home,’ Luke chuckled, his body going taut. He was

going to come. Tryg could see it in his face, feel it in his
body language.

‘Home,’ he growled, leaning in to kiss Luke fiercely,

nipping gently at his tongue as they did. That little sliver
of pain delivered the impetus. Luke gasped, arching his
body toward Tryg’s. Tryg surrendered to the moment –
the perfect moment he never thought he’d have, ever –
and came.

Both of them shuddered almost as one being as they

gave in to that moment where everything seemed better.
Seemed good.

‘Everything comes together in the end,’ Luke said,

laughing softly. He pressed his forehead to Tryg’s while
catching his breath.

‘Oh God. Horrible joke!’ Tryg said. He groaned

dramatically, but kissed his boy on the mouth once more.
‘Am I going to have to live with jokes like that for ever?’
he asked, his heart dropping with a touch of fear as he
said it.

Luke’s blue gaze found his. His face was so gorgeous,

Tryg realised. Somehow his beauty was accented by the
ugly scar Dinah had left him with. It was a reminder to
Tryg of how precious he was. This was his mate. This
person was his. Loved him. Wanted him.

‘You are going to have to live with them,’ Luke said,

165

never breaking his gaze. ‘For ever.’

‘That’s a long time,’ Tryg said, reminding Luke of

what he was saying. Some frightened part of him giving
Luke an out.

‘Not long enough,’ Luke said.
And then Tryg could breathe. They were home.

Please review me – thank you!

www.xcitebooks.com

Click here

to join our mailing list

or scan the QR code

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:
Kallysten [Blurred Trilogy 01] Blurred Nights (pdf)
Lauren Hammond The Underwater Trilogy 01 Asphodel
Kallysten [Blurred Trilogy 01] Blurred Nights (pdf)
Forgotten Realms The Icewind Dale Trilogy 01 The Crystal Shard (1988) (Salvatore, R A ) BM O
Nora Roberts Concannon Sisters Trilogy 01 Born In Fire
Nancy Springer [Sea King Trilogy 01] Madbond
Forgotten Realms The Pools Trilogy 01 Pool of Radiance # James M Ward & Jane Cooper Hong
Deborah Smith [Cherokee Trilogy 01] Sundance and the Princess [LS 326] (v1 0) (rtf)
John Gregory Betancourt New Amber Trilogy 01 The Dawn Of Amber
Nora Roberts Dream Trilogy 01 Daring To Dream
Jacqueline Lichtenberg [Dushau Trilogy 01] Dushau
Yolen, Jane Drachen Trilogie 01 Drachenblut
Jenny Nimmo Magician s Trilogy 01 The Snow Spider
Evelyn Waugh Sword of Honour Trilogy 01 Men at Arms (rtf v1 5)
05 WoW War Of The Ancients Trilogy 01 The Well of Eternity (2004 03)
Część rozdziału 7 The Clockwork Angel [The Infernal Devices Trilogy 01] Cassandra Clare 2
Robert Silverberg Prestimion Trilogy 01 Sorcerers of Majipoor
Foster, Lori Sommers Sisters 01 Süße, nie gekannte Spiele
Pohl, Frederik Trilogia del reverendo Hake 01 Guerra tibia

więcej podobnych podstron