A Totally Bound Publication
All Along
ISBN # 978-1-78430-280-1
©Copyright Willa Okati 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2014
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form,
whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of
the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound
Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs
and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator
of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road,
Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This
story has a heat rating of Totally Simmering and a Sexometer of 1.
Soulmarked
ALL ALONG
Willa Okati
Book five in the Soulmarked series
Nathaniel’s been keeping a secret—even the most improbable soulmates can be drawn together.
Nathaniel, youngest of the brothers, has been keeping a secret. He knows the identity of his
soulmate, but he hasn’t told anyone—because it’s not just impossible, it’s improbable. No one
has more than one soulmate in a lifetime, but his new mark has drawn him to Abram—a
widower who had, and lost, his mate long ago. It cannot happen, and yet it has…and
Nathaniel’s falling in love, fast.
Abram is charmed by the adorable amber-eyed man, but not fooled. Falling for Nathaniel
would be a one-way ticket to Heartbreak Hotel. Abram’s twenty-five years older, and he’s
had his time with his soulmate. He knows there are no second chances, but every time
Nathaniel enters his life, he wins another piece of Abram’s heart. Even if Abram knows
better, he’s beginning to wonder if dreams can come true.
Or if miracles might just have been real all along.
Dedication
For Rebecca, editor extraordinaire!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
True Grit: Charles Portis/Paramount Pictures
Oliver Twist: Charles Dickens
Foghorn Leghorn: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
Mini-Me: New Line Cinema Productions Inc.
Kryptonite: DC Comics
Valium: Hoffmann-La Roche
Liquid Silk: Bodywise Ltd.
Realtor: The National Association of Realtors
Spike TV: Viacom Entertainment Group
ALL ALONG
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Chapter One
The day the coliseum opened
“Nathaniel.” A rough, gentle hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder jostled him out of a deeper
sleep than he usually enjoyed. “Nathaniel? Time to get up.”
Nathaniel stirred, pressing his cheek against the soft, rumpled cotton of his sheets. He
blinked once, then twice, as he knuckled under his eyes. “What time is it?” The room seemed
as dark as midnight, but that couldn’t be true if Robbie was shaking him out of bed.
“Nearly seven. You’ll be late for work.”
“What?” Nathaniel shook his head. “That can’t be right. My alarm’s set for six.”
“Must not have gone off.” Robbie clumsily yet affectionately, tousled Nathaniel’s hair.
He’d all but raised Nathaniel from childhood, but he never had gotten much polish to his
manners. Nathaniel didn’t mind. He liked Robbie best the way he was, and he knew Robbie
understood that without having to ask—or be told.
He knocked his shoulder against Robbie’s leg to say thank you without speaking aloud.
“Give me a minute.”
“Sixty seconds and not much more, or you really are going to miss your bus,” Robbie
warned. Then added, “I’ll start some breakfast going for you. Just this one time.”
Nathaniel rubbed sleep from his eyes, blinking at Robbie as his oldest brother made his
exit. He was a good man—Robbie—though he probably wouldn’t have described himself
that way—a good man with a kind heart underneath the layer of gruff.
Oof, but Nathaniel’s head didn’t like the idea of him moving around. A light ache
thrummed at his temples like an over-tight guitar string given a hard pluck.
Maybe I’m coming down with something, he mused sleepily, still disinclined to crawl out
of his nest of cozy blankets and soft flannel sheets. Such was the common fate of a public
librarian, out there where germs crawled over sticky hands and soared merrily through the
smoggy city air. His brothers called him a kitten, teasing, for his love of snuggling down into
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warmth wherever he could find it, but today the bed almost demanded he curl up with his
head under the pillow and rest.
No could do, though. He had his share of the rent to pay, even if Robbie muttered and
grumbled about taking his money every month. Nathaniel pushed back the light, fluffy
weight of his duvet and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Oof. He’d give himself an A
for effort, but would have to take away five points for stopping there to massage his temples.
Honestly, now. He didn’t even drink, except on holidays. Something must be up. He
stretched then kneaded his joints to work out the kinks. He—
Wait. What’s this? Nathaniel tried to blink away the morning fog in his eyes to peer
down at the cap of his shoulder. He’d felt a strangely rough patch beneath his fingertips.
“Look who slept in for once!” Cade crowed, his only warning before he landed on
Nathaniel’s bed with a teeth-jarring thump. Far less gentle than Robbie by nature, he grabbed
Nathaniel in a headlock and scrubbed his knuckles over Nathaniel’s scalp.
Nathaniel had been made slender as a willow tree by the hand of Mother Nature, but he
had more strength in his limbs than people gave him credit for—especially Cade. He pushed
at Cade with an indignant yelp, getting him a good one in the ribs. “Stop it, you bastard.”
“That’s a nice thing to say about our parents,” Cade retorted, sounding slightly winded.
“Damn. Who taught you to use your elbows like that?”
“As I remember, you did.”
“Details, details,” Cade said, dismissing that. “Let me get a look at those guns,
though—whoa.”
Nathaniel crossed his arms in a flurry of instinct and indignation. “I said stop, Cade!”
Cade didn’t make a move toward him. He sat as still as a scarecrow, his eyes wide and
surprised.
“Don’t say a word,” Nathaniel warned him.
He should have saved his breath. “Was that a soulmark?” Cade demanded, breaking
his startled stillness to make a grab for Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Since when do you have a
soulmark? Who is it for?”
At least he kept his voice low, a hot-rushing whisper. Nathaniel started to reply—then
stopped himself. The new soulmark—for a soulmark it was—almost hummed beneath his
fingertips. As best as he could tell, it was shaped like an iris nearly ready to open—both the
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8
flower, and the eye, somehow both at the same time. He could have said so, but oh no. Give
Cade an inch, and he would take not one, but two, miles.
“None of your business,” he said instead of the I don’t know that he’d meant to answer
with.
Then he groaned on the inside. He did know better than that. No chance on earth Cade
would leave it alone now.
“I mean it,” Nathaniel said anyway, standing up and making a grab for a blanket to
drape around his shoulders. He did that often enough that Robbie shouldn’t guess anything
was out of the ordinary. “And don’t you dare tell anyone. Understand?”
Well, it was worth a try, at least.
* * * *
“Morning, Abram. Got a minute? I— Whoa.”
Abram sighed and waved at his fellow officer with the point of a minuscule
screwdriver. “Good morning to you too, Ivan. What brings you?”
Ivan apparently chose to ignore Abram’s question, and—for the moment—the stack of
files he carried in one arm. “What in the Sam Hell are you doing?”
“It isn’t obvious?” Abram dropped the screwdriver to roll wherever it pleased in the
mess on his desk. While Abram had heard of clean-desk policies, he didn’t reckon he’d ever
manage to make one happen unless he shoveled the lot off with one hand while striking a
match with the other. And today he did have more clutter than usual. “Fixing my DVD
player. What else would I do at work?”
Ivan rubbed at his mouth. Trying to stop the grin from becoming a chortle, Abram
suspected. “I can see that it’s a DVD player. It’s why you have it at work that’s beating me
right now. Aren’t you supposed to be working on catching the bad guys?”
“I am. The damn thing’s got a gremlin infestation.” Abram sat back and crossed his
arms loosely. He worked hard to keep his flexibility as he started the downhill slide from his
mid-forties, thank you very much. “Come in and shut the door if you’re going to be taking
up space. You could even be helpful if you wanted to.”
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“Not sure how much I know about gremlins,” Ivan said, but he gave a sort of why not
shrug and did as Abram had suggested. Up to a point—which was picking up a section of
the DVD player’s casing and peering at it. “What’s it doing? Or not doing.”
“What it’s doing is driving me insane, and I’m not going to be much help playing cops
and robbers if I can’t get a decent night’s sleep. It keeps turning itself on at the drop of a hat
and triggering something in the TV when it does. It woke me up yesterday playing True Grit
at top volume. I like the Duke, but my God, not at rock-concert levels at the ass-crack of
midnight.”
Ivan gave up the fight not to snicker. “Fair enough. I’ll give you a pass on bringing
home to work, just this once.”
“Kind of you.” Abram rolled his eyes. Indulgently. He liked Ivan as well or better than
any partner he’d worked with since leaving the Merchant Marines for a badge and a beat.
Well, enough to take the teasing with good grace. Reminded him somewhat of Callum when
they’d both been that age, though Abram wouldn’t say it was conceit that made him think
he’d taken being widowed better than Ivan generally handled being as good as divorced, and
Abram hadn’t handled losing Callum well.
Not that he’d say as much to the man. Out loud.
He cleared his throat and picked up the screwdriver again. “What’s on your mind? Any
new robbers for the cops to play with?”
Ivan toyed with the scrap of casing he’d picked up then tossed it aside. “Thought I’d
check and see if you were still planning to go to the game tonight.”
Abram fixed Ivan with a stern look down the bridge of his nose. “They’ve been working
on that coliseum for the last twenty years. The teams have been signed since last January.
This will be the game of the year. No question. Not to mention there’s a fancier room than
I’ve personally ever stayed in reserved under our names, ready and waiting to be sullied,
and I intend to celebrate my way through every last tiny bottle in the mini-bar I’ve been
promised, no matter who wins the game. Yes, I’m still planning to go, along with Nick, even
if Barrett can’t make it, and in case you were working around to wheedling your way out of
it, the answer is no. You’ll be there if I have to toss you over my shoulder, and you know I
can do it.”
“Good God, okay. I surrender,” Ivan said, laughing.
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10
Excellent. Half the time, Abram designed those little rants purely to coax a smile out of
the man. He twirled the screwdriver at Ivan. “And is there anything else on your mind
today?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna say ‘no’ for right now.” Ivan dropped the stack of folders on Abram’s
desk, obscuring a small pile of tiny nuts and screws he’d worried loose of the DVD player’s
innards. The topmost file slipped, knocking a picture frame off its stand and onto its back.
“Except for these. Need you to read them over and slap your Hancock on there, wherever it’s
needed.”
“Such polish and class,” Abram muttered, giving in to the inevitable. “All right, fine. If I
must. Careful of the picture, though, would you?”
Ivan was already grimacing, reaching to straighten the photo. “Unfortunately, I’m
afraid you must,” he said, managing to make it sound like more than an apology. “I’ll catch
up with you before the game. Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”
And he would, too—if only out of guilt over knocking Callum’s picture over. Abram
sighed and sat back as Ivan beat a hasty retreat. He wasn’t angry. Abram didn’t generally
‘do’ angry. He preferred Shakespeare to Spike TV and he’d take a good cabernet over beer
any day. He’d met quite a few men who’d thought rarified tastes were somehow
emasculating, but personally Abram begged to differ. Besides, he stood nearly six feet four in
his stocking feet and had the muscles to match. Add a shaved head, a stark goatee and a
well-practiced, dour glower on the job, and he figured he could act any way he pleased off
the job. No one tangled with him. But as strong as he liked to pretend to be, Callum had been
the real deal—five inches shorter and oceans tougher. As foul-mouthed as a sailor, tight as
sinew, hot-tempered and as loyal-hearted as a man could ever hope for in a soulmate.
God, Abram missed him.
And Abram would never know that sort of love again. That was the hardest part of
being a widower. No one got more than one soulmate in a lifetime. He chafed gently at the
patch of rough skin where his soulmark had once been but had faded away to a colorless scar
after Callum’s death. Such was the fate allotted to the marks of all widows and widowers
following the loss of their soulmates.
Abram pointed after Ivan with the tip of the screwdriver, asking, “Am I a bad man for
using guilt as a motivator?”
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Forever caught in a moment of time in the picture, Callum lifted his chin proudly and
gave Abram a cool stare.
“Nah, you’re right,” Abram said. “All’s fair in love and war.”
Damn right, the picture seemed to say. Now stop fucking around and get to work.
As if for emphasis, the old soulmark on his shoulder pinged, an itchy needle that
burrowed beneath his skin. It’d happened before. Like phantom limbs they were, sometimes.
Abram gave it a good scratch, saluted the photo, and did as he’d been told. He knew better
than to say no to Callum when he was in a mood to give orders.
* * * *
Nathaniel had always heard that curiosity killed the cat. He’d taken that to mean there
was a certain point past which it would be unsafe to continue to pry. After that—there be
dragons. A clever man would know when he’d crossed the line.
Whoever came up with that saying had never come across Cade when he really wanted
to know something.
“Please stop asking,” Nathaniel begged. He blocked Cade’s path to Robbie, who—so
far—hadn’t noticed their middle brother gnawing on his new favorite chew toy of
conversation. He didn’t want Robbie to know about his soulmark just yet. He definitely
didn’t want Cade to find and torment the man before Nathaniel and his soulmate had even
met. God. Brothers! Nathaniel loved both Cade and Robbie, but sometimes he was sorely
tempted to sell them both for a nickel.
Cade grinned in reply, cocky and sure of himself. He waved at the crowd waiting to
enter the coliseum, great big looping, circular gestures. “What? He can’t hear us. And I’d
stop asking if you’d answer the question. Until you do, we’re both out of luck. Do I know
him? Is it a him? Oh. Is it a her?”
Nathaniel pressed a knuckle to his forehead and exhaled slowly. How could he answer,
when he still didn’t know?
And that wasn’t the way it was supposed to work. Soulmarks came in when one met
their mate in person. Perhaps not right away—it could take years for some people—but to
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have the mark before he had the name of the man? Unheard of, and it worried Nathaniel
more than he could say.
If Cade didn’t drop it soon…
Cade chortled. He wrapped his arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders and jostled him. “I’ll
wear you down eventually. You know it and I know it.”
“But not tonight, Cade. Please.” Nathaniel wasn’t above using his big brown eyes as
weapons when the wars called for it. He stared mournfully at his brother, pleased to see the
instant response of a guilty wince. “You know Robbie’s been looking forward to this game
for ages. Don’t ruin it for him. All right?”
“Damn whoever taught you to do that, Oliver Twist,” Cade muttered. “Okay, fine. For
now. I’m not making any promises about tomorrow.”
No, he wouldn’t—and truly, Nathaniel knew better than to believe him about tonight
unless something else blew up big enough to distract his attention, but he’d take what he
could get. “Thank you,” he said with a sigh of relief.
Just in time, too. Robbie glanced back at them, one eyebrow starting to go up in mild
curiosity.
He flung himself forward, tackling Robbie with the kind of exuberant hug he’d refused
to grow out of as he grew older, mostly because it made Robbie happy. “Finally! This is
amazing. Did you ever think this day would come?”
As he’d hoped, Robbie forgot about Cade’s teasing. Nathaniel kept his relief on the
inside and a smile on the outside, laughing and nodding at the right places. He couldn’t stop
being aware of the soulmark darkening on the cap of his shoulder, sharpening his nerves to a
finely honed pitch. Everything smelled and tasted and sounded somehow more than usual.
Maybe his soulmate was the sort of man who was generally inclined to be late? Stranger
things had happened.
Nathaniel dropped a pace behind Cade and Robbie, all the better to pretend he’d taken
a chill from the night air and give himself an excuse to chafe his arms from elbow to
shoulder. There was the oddest prickling on the back of his neck now, almost as if he was
being watched, but when he looked up—nothing.
Well, at least they weren’t the only rowdy bunch waiting in line tonight. Nathaniel
unconsciously slowed his movements, appreciating the zip and zing of the crowd around
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him. They’d started building this coliseum the year after he’d been born, and to finally have
it finished was cause for celebration. While Nathaniel might be quiet, he liked a good party
as much as the next man and regardless of whether he’d been stuck with a peculiar soulmate
problem, he couldn’t help noticing with a small, private smile that he didn’t have any trouble
attracting attention of his own.
Even if Robbie did shut them down quick as a blink.
Nathaniel chuckled quietly, still content to cast his gaze about. He lighted, by chance—
he thought—at a group of men at the far side of the milling crowd. Too far away and it was
too congested to get a proper look at them, but they caught his eye and held it. One short,
stocky man with heavy blond hair caught in a rough ponytail. One tall and lean who kept his
back turned. Something about the set of his shoulders made Nathaniel frown, but he couldn’t
put his finger on exactly what.
The third man stood even taller and was built as sturdy and solid as if he shared DNA
with an oak grove. Dark-skinned, with shoulders as wide as the deck of a barge, he’d shaved
his head as smooth as polished onyx. He wore a trimmed goatee and had the kind of
generous, ebullient smile that it tickled Nathaniel’s sense of humor from the inside out.
But it wasn’t until he cast his gaze seemingly idly over the crowd and noticed
Nathaniel—sent one of those careless smiles at him—that Nathaniel understood why the man
had drawn him.
Oh.
Nathaniel laid a hand over his heart, his answering smile falling away from his lips in
surprise. It didn’t take too long for it to return, though, and it felt as if it wreathed his face in
delight. Oh, hello. We’ve never met, but I know you.
You’re my soulmate.
* * * *
“Earth to Abram.” Nick snapped his fingers at Abram as the gates opened. When
Abram didn’t respond right away, he earned the man’s concern. Oops. “Are you all right?”
Nick asked.
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“Hmm?” Abram frowned at where the small slip of a man with the amazing brown
eyes had disappeared when the crowds had started to move.
Absently, absently, he rubbed at his shoulder.
“Abram.” Nick nudged him harder, angling for a look up at him. “You look like you’ve
seen a ghost. Everything okay?”
“What? Oh. No, no, sorry. I’m fine.” Abram rolled his shoulders and shook off the odd
sensation of phantom fingertips brushing across his skin. How…odd. Cute, though. “Déjà vu.
It’s nothing. Are we ready to go?”
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Chapter Two
After the game
And so there you have it. After ten years apart, Robbie and Ivan had found one another
again—and at a football game, of all the places.
To tell the truth, it’d gone better than Nathaniel would have imagined. He’d never
thought about it much, and shame on him, but he might have expected more thunder and
lightning. If the worst that happened was Cade bruising his knuckles on Ivan’s jaw with a
sneaky haymaker punch, and Robbie found happiness again with his soulmate, Nathaniel
wouldn’t have to think too long and hard over whether the result was worth the cost.
If he knew his oldest brother—and he did—Nathaniel doubted he’d see hide nor hair
from Robbie until the next morning—at the very least. He could have gone back to the room,
but…
Nathaniel had learned to trust the quiet inner directions of his instincts, and they were
telling him to find a nest where he could watch the hotel and settle in—as if he were waiting
for someone to come and find him.
Maybe he was.
And it could be that this was a good omen, when all was said and done. Robbie finding
his Ivan on the night Nathaniel met his soulmate. There was a sort of synchronicity there that
Nathaniel appreciated as he chose the sleek, padded bench that he best liked the looks of,
nestled in a nook beside a restaurant full of good smells.
As he sat, his phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Found a party. Want to tag along? — Cade
Nathaniel clicked his tongue. He hadn’t worried about Cade keeping himself occupied
tonight—and for good reason. Cade could tumble down three flights of stairs and land
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headfirst in a pool of free beer. High-quality stuff, too. Ordinarily, Nathaniel would say yes
to the invitation, but tonight…
His fingers flew over the keys.
Not this time. But if Robbie asks, tell him I said yes. — Nathaniel
Oh-ho. Found something better to do? — Cade
Or someone, Nathaniel thought, pleased. Well, he hoped. Surely his soulmate would feel
the pull and come to him. That was how it worked. But he didn’t dare let Cade know. He’d
forget the party and come around to interrogate Nathaniel’s soulmate, and that wouldn’t do.
Reading. — Nathaniel
It was the truth, as far as it went. He had an eBook app on his phone to while away the
time and a new sci-fi novella waiting to be read.
God, you’re boring. Find something more exciting! Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. —
Cade
So roughly translated, that means I can do anything I like? — Nathaniel
Smart-ass. — Cade
Nathaniel kept his amusement quiet as he tucked his phone away. Cade was and ever
would be purely Cade. It was good to know some things could be counted upon never to
change.
Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel settled in to wait. Boring? He wouldn’t have said so.
More like domesticated. A lap cat. Most nights found him curled up on the couch, nestled
into his favorite plaid blanket, drinking tea. He liked those things. But this wasn’t so bad,
really. No, this would do.
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Until his soulmate came for him, that was.
* * * *
And that, as they say, is that.
Abram tucked his hands in his pockets and shook his head at the lodge’s check-in, now
very much empty of Ivan and his new-old soulmate. It didn’t take a genius to guess where
they were headed, and without a single thought for where Abram and Nick would lay their
heads. Ah well. Hormones ruled the day when it came to finding a mate. Abram
remembered that well enough from his time with Callum. He’d exact some payback, sure—
but later.
God, Callum would have laughed himself sick over this. He loved the drama of
humanity. Sometimes Abram liked to imagine he could hear Callum’s half of any given
conversation. If he closed his eyes, it was too easy to pretend Callum was there with him,
commenting dryly, “Lord, what fools these mortals be.”
Nick still looked confused. “What’s going on?”
Abram wondered when Nick would notice he’d lost the wristband he affected,
pretending to have a mark to cover. Poor bastard. Ignorance of the chemistry between
soulmates who’d been parted for a while was perhaps the sharpest clue possible to the fact
that he and Barrett were only claiming to have a bond. Wishful thinking would only get
them so far. He worried for them. “Let’s say I think that’s the last we’ll see of our estimable
leader until…oh…tomorrow morning, at least.”
The penny finally dropped. “Son of a bitch,” Nick grumbled. He raked his hair back
where it had escaped from its customary ponytail, bare wrist on prominent display. God
help the kid. “Fine, then. I’m going to bed—no, wait. Did he take the room key?”
“You’re off your game, if you didn’t notice,” Abram remarked. “Barrett must be
wearing you out.” While they might not be the soulmates they claimed to be, they did love
each other. Wholeheartedly. Maybe fate would be kind to them, in the end. Abram only
hoped so.
“Funny man.”
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“Not really. It’s more that I’ve been there and done that, most of the time. Callum used
to make it a personal mission to have me earn my rest. Well, you can sleep in the truck.” He
rummaged the keys out of his pocket then tossed them overhand to Nick. “Have at it. Or you
could make the sensible choice and spend the night in the bar, as I plan to.”
Nick sighed. “Right. Except you don’t get drunk, you burly bastard. You just get
smiley.”
“Mmm,” Abram said, showing off a fine example. “Sweet dreams.”
He clicked his tongue at Nick as the disgruntled young EMT ambled away. Lord, the
folly of youth. Made an old man feel tired—and lonely. Though he would rather a meal than a
drink, no matter what he’d said before. They hadn’t stopped for dinner before starting their
drive to the stadium, and any room service he might have hoped for had gone up in smoke
when Ivan had decided to use their crash space to host his reunion.
C’est la vie. Now, had he or had he not seen a restaurant tucked away down the main
left corridor, leading away from the foyer…?
As it turned out, he had. Too bad the looks of the place were less than promising.
Darkened lights, chairs being flipped up onto tables, and only a lingering smell of sizzling
meat and spices left in the air. Abram checked his watch. Barely eleven.
“Sorry,” said a quiet, little voice Abram could only describe—though instantly—as
sweet. A young man curled up on a bench outside the hotel restaurant closed the cover of the
electronic gizmo he held and smiled at Abram. “I came here looking for a snack myself, but
they’re closed. I think there’s a coffee machine at the end of the hall if you’re thirsty.”
He could do with a cup of something with caffeine to help keep himself awake, yes, but
that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. Abram cocked his head. “I know you, though. Don’t
I?” He snapped his fingers. “I remember now. You smiled at me before the game. I had a
feeling I’d run into you again.”
Not that he’d tell the young man why. He hadn’t noticed the significance of the age
difference before, and while the object of his interest was no less appealing—far from it—
Abram did know how to behave himself. Ah well.
“So did I. And here we are,” the young man said, seeming pleased.
Lord have mercy. If Abram had allowed it, he could let that go to his head, such an
approving look from a young man with lambent amber eyes.
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Who then asked, apparently apropos of nothing, “How far is the horizon?”
Huh? “Good question,” Abram allowed, rubbing at his chin. “Tell you what. I’ll answer
if you tell me which is the most drinkable option on this machine you mention, tea or coffee
or cocoa?”
The amber-eyed boy wrinkled his pert nose. “I’m not sure.”
“Neither am I. Aren’t we a pair?”
That made the amber-eyed boy smile. Didn’t he have the funniest face? Beautiful, yes,
but somehow the set of his fine features made the whole of him endearing, young, sweet. He
budged back, drawing his feet up beneath him and giving Abram room to sit if he chose.
“I’m Nathaniel. Robbie’s brother. I know you’re one of Ivan’s friends, but which one?”
His name was Abram. A good name, Nathaniel thought, for a good man. He honestly
hadn’t been bothered by the age difference before. Abram had one of those faces that would
look the same from thirty to sixty, maybe even at seventy. Young with laughter. In real time,
he’d be…twenty years older, maybe? Not that it mattered. Only—how awful, for anyone to
live all that time without finding their soulmate. How lonely. It made Nathaniel want to
wrap his arms around Abram’s neck and hold on.
But age didn’t matter now, did it? Abram was so big and wonderfully sturdy, not like a
tree or a rock after all, but as if he’d always been there and the rest had given way to come up
around him. With a good nature, too. Not like Robbie’s occasional chuckle or Cade’s constant
teasing. A sort of satisfaction with living his life.
If not a sense of satisfaction with machine coffee, for which Nathaniel couldn’t blame
him. He sipped at his own cup with more enjoyment.
“Honestly, you must have taste buds made of carbon steel,” Abram said with a
grimace. He’d sat on the bench without being asked to, sharing with Nathaniel without
further ado. Nathaniel liked the unconscious claim-staking of it. Another good sign. “I swear
from the way you’re smiling, I’d be tempted to suspect you like the taste.”
Nathaniel laughed quietly. “Not really. It’s just the nostalgia. I used to love this stuff
when I was younger. They had a machine at the auto parts store where Robbie worked. I’d
go there after school since he didn’t want me to be left home alone, and he’d keep me busy
by sneaking me a quarter every hour.”
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“That’s one way to keep a kid occupied.” Abram whistled. “How old were you?”
“Eleven. It helped me get all my homework done in time, that’s for sure.” Nathaniel
tucked his hand between his cheek and the bench cushion. “Robbie did the best he could
with what he had. I didn’t mind.”
Abram made an mmm of acknowledgment, but seemed to still be stuck on the effects of
feeding caffeine to a preteen. The twinkle in his eye dared Nathaniel to react when he teased,
“No wonder you’re such a shrimp.”
Shrimp? Maybe. Next to a burly bear of a man like Abram, definitely. Nathaniel wasn’t
bothered. He liked being compact. He fit into all the cozy places. But to please Abram, he
pretended to bristle. “Hey now. I could ask if your parents stood you in fertilizer when you
were young. How would you like that?”
Abram scooped up the bait and lobbed it back with a wider grin, but barely a blink. “It
wasn’t fertilizer. It was mulch—for an hour every day after school. And I liked it fine,
thanks.” He leaned back against the wall, as companionably as if he and Nathaniel had been
friends for years, seeming not to think twice about it. “You are tiny, though. Don’t deny it.”
“I always have been.” Nathaniel loved the warmth of Abram’s regard, even while
teasing. It made his heart bubble like soda, like strawberries in champagne glasses. “Robbie
named me. When I was born, he took one look at me and said I was too little for even a three-
letter name. I would have been Ray, but at Robbie’s request, I became Nathaniel. Something
to grow into.”
“Nathaniel,” Abram said slowly, rolling the syllables over his tongue. Nathaniel
thought he looked as if he liked the taste of them tumbling between his teeth. “He made a
good call. I can’t imagine you with any other name.”
“Glad you approve,” Nathaniel said. Playfully—and to see what Abram would make of
it—he stretched out one calf and nudged Abram’s thigh with his bare toes.
He got a reaction, all right. The big man jumped as if he’d been tickled by a live wire.
Nathaniel drew his foot halfway back, startled. “Sorry.”
“No, no,” Abram said, suddenly liking the taste of his machine coffee enough to take a
healthy draft. “It’s just…well. It’s been a… Oh God, shoot me now.”
Nathaniel’s laugh bubbled out of him. He put his foot right back where he wanted it,
snugged against Abram’s thigh. I see now. You’re shy, aren’t you? Such bashfulness on so big a
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man might have put him off if it’d been anyone else but with Abram, he couldn’t help
finding it endearing.
Let’s see if we can’t warm you up, hmm?
Touch like a live wire or not, Abram couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed a
conversation more than this one with Ivan’s little brother-in-law. And yes, ‘little’ was the
right word. Petite, even. Dainty as a bird, with slender hands and slim feet, bare of the shoes
he’d tucked neatly beneath the bench he sat on.
Enchanting, even when rambling on about Robbie and Ivan—who Abram had a hell of
a time focusing on at the moment.
“I barely remember Ivan, to tell the truth. But I do recall thinking once back then that
they were exactly like a fairy tale,” he said, his demure smile begging Abram to tease him for
his sentimentality.
Who was he to say no? He nudged Nathaniel’s trim ankle. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re
the kind of man who enjoys fairy tales.”
“Princes and princesses,” Nathaniel agreed, “and castles where they live happily ever
after. Do you think it’s childish of me?”
“No,” Abram said, unable to smooth his smile away. “I think it’s terribly romantic.”
“Oh, ‘terribly’ even, for shame.” Nathaniel’s smile widened. “But you’re right. I loved
fairy tales when I was younger, and I didn’t see any reason to stop loving them because I’d
grown up.”
“And what did you become, when you grew up?”
“A librarian,” he said, surprising Abram not at all. “It’s not what most people think—all
cardigans and stamping books—not these days—but it suits me, and it’s comfortable. I fit in
there.”
Abram could easily believe that. “Then here’s to not outgrowing fairy tales—or happy
ever afters.”
“Sláinte,” Nathaniel said, sitting up straight. The rim of his cup kissed the rim of
Abram’s.
God in heaven, the way Nathaniel looked at him, as if he were far more interesting than
any widower cop had a right to be. As if he fascinated the amber-eyed boy.
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“I should give you my number,” Nathaniel said after a pause.
“And why’s that?”
“So we can keep tabs on the boys, of course. Your Ivan and my Robbie.”
“I think they might have something to say about proprietorship after tonight,” Abram
had to point out, even as he dug in his pocket for a pen. “But all right, I’ll play partner-in-
crime. Got anything to write on?”
Nathaniel held up his slim hand in answer, turning it from back to front to show Abram
the smooth bare skin. “Will this do?”
Abram eyed him. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just input it in your phone.”
“Don’t be silly.” Nathaniel made a light grab for the pen held in Abram’s fingers, and
somehow—Abram had trouble believing he could be accidentally clumsy, but who knew—
between them they fumbled, sending the pen slipping down to clatter and roll away.
“I’m the silly one, am I?” Abram asked. He pushed himself off the ridiculously
comfortable bench in their now-solitary nook and went to one knee to catch the culprit before
it disappeared into the shadows underneath.
He only realized once he looked up what sort of position he’d put himself into. Odds
were Nathaniel, watching him with a raised eyebrow as Abram neatly situated himself
between the young man’s slender thighs, had seen this coming. He laughed when Abram
gulped.
“The look on your face. Am I that bad?”
“You’re not, and you know it,” Abram’s mouth said without permission from his mind.
He sighed. “God help you if you do or don’t know what you’re doing. You are a pretty one,
aren’t you?”
Nathaniel’s cheeks colored up, a pale pink that warmed his eyes to glowing. “You
really think so?” he murmured.
And that would have been all right, if that had been the end of it, but as light and
graceful as a butterfly, he sat upright—and draped his calves over Abram’s shoulders.
Abram didn’t quite freeze, but by God it was a close call. “What are you—?” He
stopped himself. “You little devil. I’m too old for this. What are you after?”
“I think you know,” Nathaniel said. “And you’re not too old.”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Abram chided with a light slap to Nathaniel’s calf. “Answer the question.”
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“I want whatever you want to give. You. I want you. Do you want me? All you have to
say is yes or no.”
Yes, his cock insisted. Abram ignored it with what he considered to be a fairly herculean
and understandably last-ditch effort. He couldn’t remember being this quick off the mark
since the very earliest days with Callum. “How old are you?” he asked, instead of dragging
Nathaniel off the bench to roll on the floor with him. “Be honest. I’ve been a cop for a long
time, you butterfly. I’ll know if you’re trying to trick me.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes tolerantly. “Twenty-one.”
Good God. It figured, didn’t it? “And how old do you think I am? I’ll give you a hint—
it’s at least twice as old as you are, plus five or six years.”
“And? I’m legal. I’m not drunk. I know what I’m doing, and I think you’re protesting a
bit too much.” Nathaniel trailed his fingers along the edge of Abram’s jaw. “Don’t tell me
you’re not interested. I’ll know that’s a lie.”
Such a little firecracker. Callum would have been proud. After he got through falling
over laughing at Abram’s expense that was.
Nathaniel curled his fingers beneath Abram’s jaw. “I’m waiting, you know. It’s all right.
Just say so.”
Abram knew when he was beaten. And why not, after all? Really, now. Nathaniel was
lovely and willing, and didn’t have a soulmark or concealer that Abram could see.
Fair game.
“Enough.” Abram stood, taller than Nathaniel, a big bear blocking out the light and
standing as defense between Nathaniel and the world. When he offered silently, Nathaniel
took the hand he held out and stood, so close he couldn’t have slipped a piece of paper
between them. “Have pity. You win, pretty.”
Nathaniel twined soft, slim arms around Abram’s neck to draw him down for a kiss.
His lips were soft, and tasted of bittersweet cocoa. “Good.”
Nathaniel found that his arms didn’t quite fully fit around the width of Abram’s
shoulders. He liked that as much as he liked the juxtaposition of a man with the body of a
heavyweight boxer and a heart for storytelling. No one could have picked a soulmate he’d
have enjoyed more. Wasn’t it funny how things worked out?
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He hadn’t realized it would be like this, that meeting his soulmate would make him
bold, but he exulted in it.
“God, you are tiny,” Abram said, kissing the side of Nathaniel’s neck. “Pretty as a
flower.”
Nathaniel tilted his head to give the big man all the room he could to work with. He
hoped Abram never stopped. The tickle of his goatee sent shivering sparks through
Nathaniel, tingling clear down to his fingers and toes. He’d been half-hard for what felt like
ages, and had gone fully rigid the moment Abram’s lips touched his. The man could kiss,
couldn’t he?
The only shame was they weren’t anywhere near close enough in height to grind
together—
Or rather, they weren’t before Abram wrapped one arm around Nathaniel and lifted
him right off his feet. Nathaniel gasped in equal parts surprise and delight. The way Abram
held him, he would swear he weighed no more than a feather pillow. No effort in those
lovely iron muscles, but he had to brace his legs after a wobble from his knees. His cock
pressed sturdy and oh so hot even through his clothes, snugging against Nathaniel.
Nathaniel approved. He clung tighter, opening his mouth for the tip of Abram’s tongue
to sweep inside. Abram drew a sharp breath in through his nose. He held Nathaniel’s head
still, the entirety of his hand nearly broad enough to cover Nathaniel’s whole face. What
could hands that size do on his naked body?
He wanted to find out. God, did he want to find out, and he thought Abram might be
about ready himself. So much for being shy. Nathaniel nipped playfully at Abram’s full
lower lip. He’d come around perfectly fine, and just as he should have. Soulmates belonged
together, and their bodies knew it long before their psyches did.
Sighing, Nathaniel curled his fingers in the soft knit of Abram’s light sweater,
scratching over the hot skin and muscle beneath. He wanted to see what his hands looked
like on Abram’s bare chest, and sooner would be better than later.
He did have a room. Cade wouldn’t use it, since he’d found that party, and from what
Abram had said about being sexiled, Robbie certainly wouldn’t poke his head in before
daybreak.
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No reason not to, was there? Nathaniel hummed happily into Abram’s kiss. He only
wanted to see one thing first, out here. He could wait until they were in the room, but he
didn’t want to.
Abram’s sleeves were loose enough to slide up, even on arms as sturdy as his.
Nathaniel clung to Abram with his left, not wanting to fall now, and slipped his hand
beneath the bunch of Abram’s right sleeve, searching for the mark he knew he’d find on
Abram’s shoulder.
And find it he did. Though it struck him as odd. Far fainter than his own, less like a
brand than a scar. Strange. Maybe the variance was down to skin texture?
What mattered was the shape, and that matched. “Hello,” Nathaniel murmured.
Abram made a grumbling sound. “Leave that be.”
“But why?” Nathaniel broke the kiss to ask. He turned his head to one side, wanting a
better look, and—
What?
Abram tried to protest, but Nathaniel wasn’t in the mood to listen. He took Abram’s
arm between both his hands and framed the mark on Abram’s shoulder between his palms.
It did match his. He was sure of that much. He’d memorized the shape of his own—an iris on
the edge of blooming. They were exactly the same. Even the size of it, slightly big for him
and a fraction small on Abram.
Why does it look so old…?
He looked questioningly at Abram, meaning to ask. He would have, if Abram hadn’t
been clever enough to track his thought process, and if he hadn’t looked both surprised and
dismayed. “Oh no. I thought you knew.”
Confused, Nathaniel shook his head. “Knew what?”
Abram was the one not listening to him, now. He touched his earlobe with a bark of
consternation. “Fuck me. It figures. The damn thing must have fallen off earlier.”
“Abram, stop.” Nathaniel let go of his arm to palm the man’s face. His head twanged.
“What are you talking about?”
He would have sworn that the man blushed at that. “Well…I’m a widower,” Abram
said.
Oh.
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“My piece of jet must have gotten lost. Here.” Abram guided Nathaniel’s hand to his
earlobe. “You can feel the scar where it usually goes. God, you poor thing. That must have
been a hell of a shock to find a mark on me. I should have made sure you knew. It was so
long ago. Years. I am single now. Not cheating on anyone. It’s not the kind of thing I would
lie about.”
Oh, Nathaniel thought again, dazed. Now that he looked, he could see the dent in
Abram’s earlobe where a jet widower’s bead would normally sit, and he had no reason to
think Abram was lying about that. Why would he? It wouldn’t gain him anything Nathaniel
hadn’t been willing to give. Therefore, he had had a soulmate—and had lost him.
But it doesn’t work that way. Does it? It doesn’t make sense. You are my soulmate. I know it.
Then how…? I mean, why…?
“Nathaniel?” Abram sounded worried now. He tried to lift Nathaniel’s chin to make
eye contact. “Look at me. Are you all right?”
Nathaniel blinked up at him. “I…”
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Chapter Three
Okay then. As Fridays go, I’d have to say that one was…interesting.
Saturday morning and back home again. Abram unlocked the front door to the split-
level ranch house he and Callum had bought together, mostly at Callum’s insistence. Abram
would have been happy living in the city, but Callum had narrowed his eyes, beetled his
brows, and said, “If I’m going to have a soulmate and settle down to housekeeping, then like
fucking hell am I going in without all the trimmings. Man up and help me pick a Realtor.”
At which Abram had laughed, and kissed him. That was the secret, with Callum. Let
him rant and roar, take none of it seriously, and love him always. Do that, and it’d made him
putty in Abram’s hands.
Nathaniel, on the other hand…
Abram pursed his lips and whistled as he tucked the jingling key ring in his pocket,
hitched the hopefully-repaired DVD player more securely under his arm, and let himself
inside the home he’d shared with his soulmate for fifteen years.
And Callum had been his soulmate. No doubt about that. It’d damned near been
textbook. Two strangers catching each other’s gaze across a crowded room, the prickling
tingle of a soulmark branding itself on their skin from the inside out…Callum puffing up
with indignation like a mashup of Foghorn Leghorn and Mini-Me and informing Abram that
he had another think coming if he wanted to take advantage…
Maybe it hadn’t been completely textbook. But even when Abram had seriously doubted
the sanity of the gods for matching him up with a pint-sized powder keg, he hadn’t doubted
the truth of their bond. Mostly because once they’d met, even when they’d been apart, he’d
been able to feel Callum’s touch on his skin.
He couldn’t get Nathaniel out of his head, either.
Abram rubbed absently at his shoulder, where the old mark lay dormant. He missed
those days.
Maybe that was it. He hadn’t been with anyone since Callum. Not that Callum would
have disapproved of him getting on with his life. Callum would have been the first to drop-
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kick him out of the door. If he’d stayed in practice, perhaps then a few kisses from a pretty
slip of a lad wouldn’t have sent his head tumbling as topsy-turvy as a Tasmanian devil that’d
been fed raw caffeine immediately before it’d broken out of its cage.
There had been something Nathaniel wasn’t telling him. Abram would bet his life. It
didn’t take a genius to detect as much when after a fit of kissing as if he’d meant to mount
Abram then and there, the aforementioned lad had gone pale as a ghost and backed away as
if his heels were on fire.
He hadn’t even given Abram his number.
Strange. Very, very strange.
Though because life did go on—and Abram knew that as well or better than anyone—
he stopped to hook the DVD player back up before he gave in to the urge to address a picture
of Callum hanging on the wall. He’d chosen that one for its expression, a narrow-eyed glare
and a quirked eyebrow that asked as clearly as life, ‘What the fuck was that all about?’
Abram settled back on his heels and raised both shoulders to shrug at the photo.
“Honestly? Beats the hell out of me.”
‘Well then,’ Callum’s picture seemed to say. ‘You know what to do now, don’t you?’
* * * *
Technically, Nathaniel had the weekend off. He’d asked for the time well in advance,
figuring that he’d either want a couple of days to recover from a weekend out with his
brothers, or that it wouldn’t hurt him to take a day or so to catch up on the leaning tower of
books by his bed that he wanted to read.
Instead he found himself at the library bright and early Saturday morning and wasn’t
really surprised.
They let him in, and that wasn’t surprising either. After graduating from hanging out
with Robbie at the auto parts store, Nathaniel had spent every afternoon and most of the
weekends in this local branch. The staff had bought him a cake when he’d told them he
wanted to get a degree in library science.
Working there hadn’t been so much an inevitability as a comfortable acceptance of fate.
Things that were meant to be, all falling neatly into place.
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Funny how expectations could get tumbled on their heads, wasn’t it?
Weekends at the library were never predictable. Sometimes they’d have a line out the
door of people wanting to use the free internet or book clubs arguing over space, and when
summer reading programs were in full swing, Nathaniel was often tempted to come to work
in guerilla kit, stun guns and frag grenades included.
Today wasn’t bad. A couple of librarians who could handle regular traffic with their
eyes closed—and himself. He’d begged the chance to shelve books, which they all
understood as polite language for ‘I’d like to read, so give me an excuse to go wander around
the stacks’. And while he could have done what he wanted at home with a search engine—
probably more efficiently—that wasn’t the point.
Books were. Books soothed Nathaniel like nothing else could. Books were both his
Kryptonite and his opium of choice, as much Valhalla as Valium and if he couldn’t calm
down and think straight while surrounded by a forest of beautiful words, then it wasn’t
possible to calm down at all.
Dear God, why had he run? Nathaniel gently pounded the flat of his hand against his
forehead. That must have gone over great. Don’t explain anything to the nice man. Oh no, just go
pale and start stammering and then take flight. Very smooth.
But it didn’t make sense.
Drawing breath for a sigh, Nathaniel wrangled his focus back around to the ten-pound
tome he’d laid open on one of the shelves with an inch or so of space to spare. It’d been
written in 1994, but honestly… For all the new studies done—and it seemed like there was a
new one every year—no one knew any more or less about soulmarks than they had in
ancient Greece.
Probably. The more people learned, the less they knew. The Greeks had been right
about that one, too.
Nathaniel leafed through pages he’d already read once, his mind adrift. He’d spent half
an hour that morning in the hotel room’s en suite with a pad of paper and a mirror, copying
his soulmark down as precisely as possible. It’d made his eyes cross more than once, but he’d
got it done in the end, and he carried that folded-up piece of paper in his pocket. He’d have
to spend the same amount of time with Abram’s mark in front of him to get an absolutely
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accurate copy, but why? He knew it matched his—knew it deep as his bones, and in the core
of his soul.
Only that wasn’t possible. The books were as straightforward about that as anything
else. No one—not even dreamers—got a second soulmate. Abram had had his. His mark, the
mark that matched Nathaniel’s, was old and barren of color.
Yet it existed. Nathaniel’s shoulder itched with a low, steady tingle, as if to remind him
that there was more in heaven and earth than in his philosophy.
He’d have asked Robbie, if Robbie hadn’t been completely taken up with Ivan. And
more power to him, but—
Disgusted, Nathaniel slammed the book shut. Loose pages objected to the rough
treatment and flew out like dandelion fluff, scattering over the floor. “Oh no,” he said under
his breath. Damaged books did bad things to his psyche. His first instinct was, then and
always, to run after them. Of course.
Which brought him up short when he saw that one page had landed on a booted foot of
frankly immense size—a foot attached to a leg like a redwood trunk. Fitting enough,
considering he’d climbed its owner like a tree the night before. Who was, for some odd
reason, carrying two paper cups of tea-to-go from the library’s café.
Nathaniel clutched the book to his chest. A tiny squeak escaped him.
Abram was, damn his hide, trying not to laugh and mostly failing. “Sorry. Did you say
you worked for the library or you were involved in a secret campaign to destroy them?”
Nathaniel’s lips wanted to smile too. Oh, but this was his soulmate. He knew it. Their
hearts were the same.
He wondered, for a moment—did books really have all the answers?
The temptation was there to ask, but some small and kindly god smiled down on him
just that once. He stood, book still in his arms, and asked like a grown-up, “What are you
doing here?”
Trying very, very hard not to toss you over my shoulder and take you home with me—for
starters.
Also trying, for all I’m worth, not to imagine in vivid detail what I’d do with you once I had you
in my bed.
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Trying so very hard—yes indeed.
Somewhere out there, Abram had no doubt, Callum was rolling on the celestial floor
laughing at him.
Abram couldn’t help having a sneaky suspicion Nathaniel had intuited all that loud
and clear. He coughed and held up the cups he carried. “Tea?”
“Schrodinger’s,” Nathaniel said.
Which…no, Abram wasn’t even going to try. He couldn’t begin to fathom how this little
butterfly’s mind worked. “Come again?”
“I didn’t come the first time,” Nathaniel murmured—then went bright red.
Trying very hard, hmm? Abram imagined Callum asking him.
Abram groaned on the inside. He couldn’t help it, could he? The kid was too cute when
flustered. “Schrodinger’s?”
Nathaniel’s cheeks were still pink when he answered, “You say it’s tea, but all I see are
cups with the library café’s logo. So it could be coffee, or cocoa, or even hot water. All
possibilities are limitless until confirmed or denied.”
Abram’s eyebrows drifted up. Whether he was more impressed or baffled, he couldn’t
say for sure. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who could elevate a cup of tea to
philosophical speculation.”
“Stick around for a while. Questions like that are just the warm-up,” Nathaniel said, the
pink almost gone, but leaving a shy, sheepish smile in its wake.
Like a ghost, or the passing wing of a hummingbird in flight, Abram could feel the
brush of that smile on his cheek. And on his lips, too. “Somehow, I believe you.”
“I still don’t know how far it is to the horizon.” Nathaniel set his book aside. “What are
you doing here?”
Abram was starting to wonder that himself. No, no, he knew. “For starters, bringing
you tea. And it is tea. An infusion of dried, boiled leaves, Ceylon, like the café girl promised
was the best they had on offer. With milk and sugar, because you seemed like the type.”
Nathaniel crinkled his nose. He looked unaccountably pleased. “I am.”
“Good. Because I was hoping you could take fifteen and come drink it with me.”
Abram indulged himself with a study of the amber-eyed lad’s pretty smile. “Is there a private
spot nearby where we could talk?”
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Nathaniel blinked, but rallied like a properly tough guy. “Yes. Out back, there’s a picnic
table for staff where I usually take my lunch. Follow me.”
He walked away straight-backed, head up, not looking over his shoulder once. Now
that? That took courage. Abram had to admire it. Hell, Callum would have, too.
The picnic table rested in the center of a sunbeam. Abram wished he’d brought some
dark glasses with him but without being asked, Nathaniel let him take the side of the picnic
table that put his back to the sun. He watched as Nathaniel accepted one of the cups of tea
and peeled the lid off, appreciatively breathing in a cloud of fragrant steam. For a library
café, they had the good stuff and they didn’t skimp on using it. Abram tried a sip and his
taste buds almost stood up to applaud.
The rest of him insisted on lingering, drinking in every move Nathaniel made—small,
neat, precise. Aside from the height, absolutely nothing like Callum.
And absolutely fascinating.
Nathaniel cocked his head to one side. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Damn. He’d gotten distracted again. Not quite like zoning out. More like zoning in.
Abram took another swallow of his tea to cover the lapse. White ginger. Unreal. “Like
what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.” Nathaniel touched the tip of his tongue to the bow of his
lips. Abram wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it or not. “Like you want to know what I
taste like when I’m naked.”
Good God. A mouse that roared! Abram cleared his throat. “Drink your tea, and stop
looking at me like you want to eat me whole. It’s flattering, but it’s hellishly distracting.
Okay?”
Nathaniel frowned, but Abram supposed he hadn’t been a youngest brother all his life
for nothing. He followed instructions well.
“Here’s the thing,” Abram said, once Nathaniel had taken his first sip. “If I took one
lesson away from fifteen years of marriage, it’s this—not asking, and not telling, are the
surest roads to hell on earth.”
Nathaniel sobered. He held the cup with both hands. Steam nearly obscured his face—
no, that wasn’t right. As the steam wisped over his nose and cheeks, his color deepened, and
those remarkable eyes became almost luminous. He said nothing. Just listened.
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Good enough to be getting on with. “So!” Abram rapped his knuckles against the table.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want an honest answer. I think you’re the kind of
man who can do that. Not everyone’s capable of it.”
“Anyone would think you’re a cop or something,” Nathaniel said with a small smile.
“I get that a lot. Do we have a deal?” Abram offered one hand. “Shake on it if we do.”
Nathaniel considered him for a long moment. Long enough that Abram thought he
would have paid a small fortune for a peek inside the man’s head—preferably with closed-
captioning provided.
“I don’t need to shake your hand,” he said. “I trust you. But do you trust me?”
“You barely know me,” Abram pointed out.
Nathaniel refused to be deterred. He set his delicate jaw stubbornly. “Yes or no? Or are
you the kind of man who can’t answer a question honestly?”
Touché. “All right, fine.” Abram rested both elbows on the table and turned his palms
up. “I’ll trust you if you’ll trust me. What do you want to know?”
Now Nathaniel nibbled at the soft pink plushness of his lower lip. “It’s not exactly
saying so much as…oh, hell. Here.” He pushed his right sleeve up, rolling the cotton neatly,
and turned to show Abram his shoulder. “It’s not so much saying as showing. This. Showing
you this. Do you see what I mean now, Abram?”
Nathaniel held his breath, and spared a thought to be grateful that Abram hadn’t had a
mouthful of hot tea just then. He would have gotten a white ginger shower.
As it was, the older man went a peculiar shade of pale. “The devil you say.”
“But I didn’t say. Seeing is believing.” Nathaniel wasn’t Cade’s brother for nothing. He
could stand up to a lot more than some incredulous sputtering. Though to be fair, Abram
didn’t seem as if he was much of a shouter.
When Abram beckoned without saying a word, Nathaniel leaned as far over the table
as he could, and let Abram take his arm. He framed the mark on Nathaniel’s shoulder with
his huge dark hands, furrowing his forehead as he traced the design.
Finally, he blew out a breath. “That is…well… Okay. That’s a hell of a thing. When did—?”
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“Yesterday morning.” Nathaniel withdrew as gently as he could. His heart went out to
Abram. He couldn’t help it. Poor man. He looked like he’d been caught between an eighteen-
wheeler and a hard place. “Then last night, at the game…when I saw you…”
“I think I’m starting to get the picture now.” Abram rubbed at his face. “Which doesn’t
mean I have any idea what to say about it. It’s not possible, Nathaniel.”
“It matches yours,” Nathaniel said, stung. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t. I know. I saw that
for myself.”
But Abram was shaking his head. “It matches mine now. Not all marks come in all at
once. Sometimes they unfold. I’ve seen that happen. One poor bastard I knew thought he had
a soulmark shaped like a vagina. Trust me, he was happier than hell when the rest of the
pattern emerged.”
Nathaniel hadn’t known that. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“It’s not common,” Abram admitted. He sat back, and Nathaniel could see him starting
to close himself off. Politely, yes, and kindly, sure, but walking away as fast as he could from
any possibility that he could be Nathaniel’s soulmate.
Unfortunately for Abram, the best way to get Nathaniel motivated was to tell him no.
He sat upright, face hot. “I’ve never heard of it before, and I’ve done my research.”
“Have you?” Abram wasn’t moved. “Then you’ll have read that it just doesn’t happen.
There are no double-downs. I’m sorry, Nathaniel. It’s a compliment like I haven’t gotten in
years, but it’s not possible, and I don’t want you chasing shadows.”
Didn’t he? Nathaniel seized upon that. Because while Abram might be running, he
wasn’t going that fast. Yet.
Better catch up to him while he could.
“Then say it’s not possible.” Nathaniel wanted to hold his breath, but managed to make
himself go on after a brief pause. “Does that mean I can’t want you anyway?”
If he’d been keeping score—or if Cade had been there—that would have counted as a
knockout punch. Abram’s mouth opened and closed, making Nathaniel want to stroke his
goatee and see if it was as velvety as he remembered.
But he held his ground while he had the upper hand. “You promised you’d answer a
question honestly. That’s my question. And here’s another one. Do you want me?”
Abram’s lips moved in silence before he sat back with a whoof and a baffled growl.
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“In words, please,” Nathaniel said. “This is the best tea I’ve ever had from the café, by
the way. They must like you.”
“Yes, but do they want to jump my bones?” Abram shook his head, but from the looks
of him, he might be getting his feet back under himself. The right side of his mouth lifted in a
grin that was both surprisingly boyish and impressed. “You’ll know if I’m lying, won’t you?”
Nathaniel made a gesture that he hoped said, probably.
“Then I won’t bother.” And he didn’t. The look Abram favored Nathaniel with—well.
Nathaniel wouldn’t have been surprised to smell smoke from the heat in it or to have gone
crispy with all that fire directed at him from head to toe and back again. “God, yes. I want
you enough to do something very, very stupid.”
Should he press his luck? Why not? Nathaniel started to stand. “Then kiss me again.”
“Ah-ah-ah.” Abram held up a hand, palm-out, to stop Nathaniel before he got too far.
He did have control of himself again, more amused than consternated. “If I start kissing you
here and now, I won’t stop. And if I don’t stop, then I’ll start doing other things that could
get us both arrested for doing in public. Cops tend to stay away from that kind of risk. Now,
how do you like that for honesty?”
Nathaniel gulped.
Abram’s fire softened. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I did ask.” And hadn’t he received? Hoo boy. Nathaniel drank a deep draft of
his tea, cool enough now for gulping. “If we were somewhere else, would you kiss me then?”
Abram’s voice was deep as the sea and dark as velvet midnight when he replied, “Yes.
And I wouldn’t stop.
“Good.” Nathaniel lifted his chin. “What days do you have off work? Because I’m going
to pay you a visit the first night you’re free to sleep in the next day and once I’m there, I’m
going to hold you to that offer for hours. Understand?”
And just when he thought he was on solid ground again, there Nathaniel went with his
one-two punch. An incredulous—and pleased—laugh escaped Abram. “Callum would have
loved you. Would have tucked you in his pocket and taken you home.”
“Callum being your…”
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“Soulmate,” Abram said. Gently. “The one and only that anyone gets. Which doesn’t
mean I don’t want you. You won that fight fair and square. But are you—?”
“Ask me if I’m sure, and I’m positive you won’t like my answer,” Nathaniel said, fixing
him with a stare more arresting than most when it came from luminous amber eyes.
“Fair enough. Wednesday.”
Nathaniel blinked. Ha! Abram counted that as a victory. The kitten wasn’t the only one
who knew his way around a non sequitur. “Wednesday for what?”
“You asked what day I had off work. Wednesday is it. Which means my Tuesday night
is wide open.” Abram raised one shoulder, unable to keep himself from teasing a little.
“Unless you’re changing your mind?”
And oh, wasn’t that like waving a red flag in front of a bull? Nathaniel lifted his head,
proud as an aristocrat. “I’m not changing my mind, even if I have a soulmate who isn’t you—”
“Which it is,” Abram said, ignoring the small part of himself that protested the notion.
The romantic fool likely lived in his dick, and it had nothing to complain about. “But go on.”
“Since I haven’t met him yet, there’s no reason not to enjoy you until he shows up,”
Nathaniel said. “Which I’m going to. Hydrate first. I meant what I said. Once I start, I’m not
going to stop.”
Abram believed him—utterly and without a second’s doubt. “Maybe I’ll be the one who
doesn’t stop,” he said mildly. “Ever think about that?”
“Think about it? More like hoping for it.” Nathaniel’s grin held a hint of the edge that
his older brother Cade’s smile did, and it went straight to Abram’s groin.
“Good,” was all he said in reply. “Tuesday evening it is. And for an extra challenge, I
won’t give you directions. You can research me and find out where I live. But no fair asking
anyone you might see at Nick and Barrett’s party tonight—if you think you can manage
that.”
“I do.” Amber glowed citrine-bright with the dare. “I will, too. And you’ll believe me
when you see it.” He stood, light and delicate, and dropped his tea in the trash bin—then, on
the backstroke of the fluid move, bent to press a kiss to Abram’s lips. He tasted of tea, and
the scent of old books, and he stroked his knuckles lightly against Abram’s cheek. “Count on
that.”
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Not. A. Problem. Abram whistled again as he watched the lad walk away, as calm and
proud as he’d come out. As if they’d been discussing the weather.
And yet…
Abram drank the rest of his tea, drumming the tabletop in thought. He did not look at
his soulmark, nor touch it, because down that road lay madness. Instead, he imagined
Callum sitting across the table from him, shaking his head in silence.
“That was way too easy, wasn’t it?” he asked the ghost in his mind.
Callum’s memory snorted. “No. You think?”
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Chapter Four
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Sorry, what?” Nathaniel paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back over
his shoulder. He carried a quarter-full knapsack by its top loop, and had bus fare burning a
hole in his pocket. Though he’d tried, it still felt odd to plan and pack for a rendezvous with
a lover, especially the first time. He didn’t doubt that’d been part of Abram’s plan. Subtract
the spontaneity, and hope Nathaniel lost his nerve.
Not going to happen. Whether Abram believed it or not, he was Nathaniel’s soulmate,
and he’d see that sooner or later.
Robbie looked questioningly back at him. He had a wad of paper towels in hand,
wiping away the last of the garage grease and sharply scented cleanser. He nodded at the
bag Nathaniel carried. “I was going to ask if you wanted to get some pizzas from that brick
oven place we both like and have a night in, but I’m guessing you already have plans.”
Nathaniel knew Robbie wasn’t like Cade. He wouldn’t ask for the sake of curiosity, but
out of concern, and there was a world’s worth of difference between the two. Still, he didn’t
think his nerve would hold up to intense scrutiny. He nodded, praying that his cheeks
wouldn’t go pink and give away more information than he wanted.
Though he should have remembered Robbie had been an oldest brother and a father
figure for long enough to wrest a decent summary from a single glance. “Ah,” he said,
almost under his breath as he tossed the paper towels into the kitchen trash bin. He frowned,
but shook that away. “Make sure he treats you right—or she.”
“It’s a he,” Nathaniel said, biting at his lip. “And he does. I’m just…”
A hint of a smile touched Robbie’s face. “I remember what that’s like. If you change
your mind, I’ll be home tonight. Ivan’s got the late shift, so it’ll only be me.”
Guilt stabbed a fork into Nathaniel’s tender heart. “I don’t want to leave you all alone.”
Robbie snorted. “Don’t worry about me. I could probably count the number of quiet
nights alone I’ve had in years on one hand and still have fingers left over. But if you change
your mind and you need to come home—if you want to—for any reason, then you can.” He
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sobered, studying Nathaniel more deeply than he usually did, forehead furrowed slightly. It
made Nathaniel want to fidget, wondering what he saw there—or if this was just a brother’s
caution. “And you know you can talk to me, don’t you? About anything.”
“I know.” Nathaniel found a smile, and offered it to Robbie. “Stage fright, Robbie. I’ll be
fine. And if I’m not, you get first crack at him. But I will be. Okay?”
Robbie chuckled. “Now you’re sounding more like yourself. Go on, then.”
Nathaniel ducked his head in an awkward sort of goodbye and, heart pounding against
his ribs, ducked out of the house they shared. Behind him, he heard Robbie chuckle again.
“And I won’t even tell Cade,” he called after Nathaniel.
Thank God for that.
* * * *
Freshly showered. Freshly shaved, with his goatee neatly trimmed. Clean shirt, still
with the scent of new clinging to its crisp cut. Anyone would think Abram was looking
forward to seeing if Nathaniel could track him down, after all.
He hadn’t heard a word from the amber-eyed man since Saturday, and Nathaniel had
been one cool cucumber at the impromptu party Nick and Barrett had scratched up. Acted as
if he and Abram were no more than bare acquaintances.
Which should have been a good thing. Not unsettling. And yet…
And yet. Abram sighed and scratched idly at his soulmark. Itched a bit, but the short
sleeves he’d chosen chafed at his arms. When he pushed his collar down and craned his neck
to get a better look, it seemed the same as ever. Mostly colorless and completely quiescent, its
purpose served.
Honestly, he hated letting Nathaniel down almost more than anything.
He tried to focus on the DVD player, which seemed to be broken. Again. According to
the digital clock on its battle-scarred casing, the time was precisely 27:89. “Piece of junk,” he
muttered, giving it a sharp rap.
“Piece of outdated junk. When are you going to admit it’s a lost cause and move on?”
Abram wasn’t delusional enough to believe Callum had actually, literally answered
him. Only, after fifteen years with a man most charitably described as intense, it wasn’t hard
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at all to hold an imaginary conversation with the memory of his former mate. “I can fix it,”
he said.
“You could, but why should you? It’s doing nothing but driving you crazy.”
He imagined Callum tsking at him for that. Then, pausing. Biding his time until he
judged Abram was soft enough for a killing blow. “You think he’ll show?”
“No idea,” Abram said, lying between his teeth. “Maybe not—which would be fine.”
“Yeah, right. Pull the other leg. It’s got bells attached.” In Abram’s imagination, he
envisioned Callum lying comfortably draped across the sofa. “He’d be good for you, you know.”
Abram grumbled under his breath in response. “I’ve had a soulmate.”
“Had,” Callum pointed out. Abram could visualize, so easily, the lines in his mate’s face
falling into concern. “There’s no harm in finding someone else. God knows, if you’d been the one to
pass before your time, I’d have comforted myself. That’s life, Abram. It’s meant to be lived, not just
existed through.” He resettled himself. “And if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t call him ‘amber-eyed’.
Do you know how ridiculously romantic you sound?”
Abram bit back a grin. “Piss off.”
“Bite me,” Callum retorted. “Now answer the door, and get yourself properly laid tonight.
Understand?”
Three soft knocks sounded at the front. Abram brushed aside his reverie with a sigh.
Ghosts weren’t real. Nor were second-soulmates. So thinking, he dusted off his knees and
went to see who’d come knocking. He could be wrong. Might be Jehovah’s Witnesses—or
encyclopedia salesmen.
Though of course it wasn’t. Nathaniel himself stood on Abram’s front steps, bathed in
the rich strawberry-pink light of the sun setting behind him. He looked uncertain, but
blossomed from hesitation to glorious happiness when he looked up at Abram.
Abram wondered if it was possible for a human to purr, or if the warmth growing
under his breastbone was what it felt like when a man started to fall in love. He meant to ask,
but didn’t get a chance. Nathaniel dropped the knapsack he carried and reached up to pull
Abram down to him, touching his mouth to Abram’s and making the rest of the world melt
away.
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God, he was so small—so light and easy to lift, like a bird, or like a butterfly. His well-
shaped lips opened sweetly beneath Abram’s, yielding to him. That could go to a man’s
head, having someone who wanted to mold their shape around his.
His mouth tingled when he eased Nathaniel back down to his feet. He’d gone half-hard
from one kiss and he knew Nathaniel was the same. No need to look, or to feel—though he
wouldn’t have complained. He just knew.
Nathaniel beamed up at him. He smoothed down the front of Abram’s shirt, and if he
paused with his hand on Abram’s shoulder, over the spot where his soulmark rested, Abram
chose not to call him on it.
“Now that that’s settled,” Nathaniel said, “can I come in?”
Abram laughed, a deep booming noise. He couldn’t help himself, and he didn’t want to.
He caressed the shining top of Nathaniel’s hair and smoothed the silken strands down,
following the delicate shape of the skull and the fragile bones of his neck, ending at the
finely-shaped arrows of clavicle. “Now that that’s settled, yes. Come with me.”
The size of Abram’s bedroom surprised Nathaniel. He would have thought a man as
tall and broad as Abram would have made sure he had a proper cave, proportioned to fit
him—but no. This was on the snug side and set at the back of the house, with barely enough
walking room around the bed, which was set facing a window that took up nearly half of a
wall. Soft white cotton drapes moved with the lazy rhythm of a dusk breeze coming through
the opened sash and though the branches of an apple tree obscured the view…oh. Now he
saw.
“I like to watch the moon when I can’t sleep,” Abram said behind Nathaniel. He pushed
the bedroom door nearly closed. The warmth of him filled the small room. Nathaniel could
sense his every movement. He could have pinpointed what Abram was doing with his eyes
closed. Now taking off his shoes, next loosening the top buttons on his shirt. The rich royal
blue stripes looked good on him against his dark skin.
Nathaniel couldn’t help thinking they’d look even better once they were out of the way.
He wandered to the foot of the bed, tracking Abram behind him, and sat on the edge. “I
can see why. It’s soothing.”
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Abram’s deep chuckle made Nathaniel’s skin tingle. “If you think there’s anything
soothing about this, you haven’t been paying attention.”
Nathaniel crinkled his nose. “No? Then show me what it feels like, for you.”
“Oh, little man. Don’t tempt me.” Abram laid one hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. Heat
and sensation centered between his shoulder blades, Abram’s long fingers gently tickling his
skin. Pleased, Nathaniel crooned in encouragement and arched his back, letting the evidence
of his enjoyment show as a happy shiver rippling his muscles.
Abram’s fingers traveled up to the soft, short hair on Nathaniel’s nape, carding through
then sweeping the rest of his mane out of the way. Nathaniel could feel how much he was
wanted in that light touch—knew Abram wanted this—him—so badly he ached for it. “You
can,” Nathaniel said. “Tempt me, like I tempt you. If you want.”
“Somehow I knew you’d say something like that.” Abram knew how to use his hands,
drawing them lightly over the top of Nathaniel’s shoulders, tracing a line down his spine,
massaging his biceps and slipping over them to caress his chest. He bent his head and traced
the tip of his tongue over Nathaniel’s ear. “Last chance to change your mind, or you won’t be
able to change mine.”
“I don’t want to. I just want you.” Nathaniel leaned back against the solid heat of
Abram, more than pleased at finding the hard length of Abram’s cock pressed against him.
Mmm. “Sooner rather than later.”
“Turn around then.”
Curious, Nathaniel obeyed. The fascination, the focus he saw in Abram gave him a brief
moment of pause. He looked hungry.
“Pretty, pretty,” Abram murmured. He kissed his way down, brushing each of
Nathaniel’s eyelids with the softest possible press of his lips. Nathaniel shuddered, nearly
overcome by the rush of his tenderness. It made up his mind for him.
“I’m not the only one. I want this in me.” He reached between them, searching for the
zipper tab of Abram’s slacks. “I want to see you naked. Can I?”
“Soon.” Abram sucked lightly on Nathaniel’s collarbone. He nipped the skin. “Don’t
worry. I won’t mark you.”
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“I wouldn’t mind.” He already wore the most important stamp of ownership. Nathaniel
pushed closer, shameless and aroused, slipping his arm under Abram’s bulky biceps and
spreading his hand flat on Abram’s back.
Abram growled playfully and twisted, turning until he stood in front of Nathaniel,
undoing his buttons and lifting the shirt off his shoulders. He cast it aside to fall wherever it
liked, then bent his head to nuzzle beneath Nathaniel’s jaw. His broad hands stroked in ever-
descending sweeps. When he found Nathaniel’s nipple, he pinched it lightly, rolling the nub
between his fingers.
He laughed when Nathaniel gasped. “You must like that.”
Without waiting for an answer, he pushed Nathaniel’s back flat to the bed and held him
there. He leaned over Nathaniel, taking the nipple into his mouth, between his teeth.
“Oh,” Nathaniel said—moaned—wrapping his leg around Abram’s. “Oh God, yes.
More.”
“Insatiable.” Abram laved Nathaniel’s nipple with his tongue, trailing wet circles
around it. When he let go without any warning, he breathed cool air over the skin and
stroked away Nathaniel’s pleased shiver. “You’re far too tempting, Nathaniel. But you know
that, don’t you?”
Nathaniel hummed with pleasure. Fire sparked in his groin, driving the ache deeper
and sweeter. He tried to sit up. “Here, let me. I want to try something. Please? I’ll make you
feel good.”
Though Abram arched an eyebrow, he gave Nathaniel the room he asked for and let
him slither down his body, heading for his knees. Abram tensed, despite the eager twitch of
his cock, which would know far better than his brain what was good for it. “Nathaniel,” he
said, sounding awed. “You don’t have to.”
“But I want to.” Nathaniel settled between Abram’s ankles.
Abram stared down at Nathaniel then drew his finger across Nathaniel’s cheek. “Do it.”
Nathaniel trailed a wet, heated path of kisses around Abram’s navel.
Abram cupped his head gently, so gently.
“I will. Shh, now. Hush. Shh.” In between licks and sucks, Nathaniel murmured
nonsense at him, loving little croons and encouragements. He pressed a finger behind
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Abram’s balls, letting it travel, bumping up between his ass cheeks. Abram’s cock surged
between Nathaniel’s lips and he stuttered through an aborted jerk of his hips.
The taste of him…so good. All mine.
“My God. Look at you, you gorgeous thing. Oh, Nathaniel,” Abram praised, short of
breath. “Enough. Stop. Let me fuck you. Please?”
Nathaniel smiled at Abram. Still watching—never taking his gaze away—he slipped
backward in the bed until he could stretch out full length. He raised his slim hips and slid his
jeans off, making it all the way to his calves before Abram could help. He finished the job and
tossed the crumpled denim to pile on his floor.
“Now you,” Nathaniel said, tucking one hand under his cheek. “Let me see all of you,
before you come fuck me.”
Abram had to take a deep breath after that. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”
“Only if I can come with you,” Nathaniel promised. “Please. For me?”
It was the manners that did him in, Abram decided. It’d take a tougher man than him to
say no to a sweet plea from that adorable mouth. He stood back, pushed the jeans down his
hips and stepped out, only then standing still briefly to let Nathaniel get a good look. Might
be too much for him, and that wasn’t vanity talking. Just practicality.
‘Fucking hell. It’s a good thing I’m a size queen,’ had been Callum’s comment on his first
sight of Abram. The memory made Abram grin—and Nathaniel seemed to like the looks of
both cock and smile.
Nathaniel curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture. “Come down here. Bring that with
you.”
How could he say no? Abram lay himself down as gently as he could, careful not to
crush the amber-eyed boy, searching for his lips. Nathaniel seized him by the back of his
head and kept him fastened there, sleek tongue busy, kissing for all he was worth. Turning
what might have been a quick brush into a deep and wonderfully nasty thing.
Abram nipped at the shell of Nathaniel’s ear. “Call it, pretty. Back or stomach?”
Nathaniel inhaled a deep breath that sounded like pleasant surprise. “Back,” he said.
“This time. I want to look into your eyes while you fuck me.”
“Mmm.” Abram stole another hungry kiss. “I think we can manage that. Lie down.”
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Nathaniel obeyed his command. Sort of. He rummaged under the pillows as he went,
and came up lucky with the fresh, unopened tube of Liquid Silk that Abram had hidden
there earlier, in a moment when optimism had trumped common sense. He chuckled as he
thrust the container at Abram. “You’ll need this if you plan to ravish me.”
“Mmm. Ravish. Ravishing. Ravishment. I could go for that.”
“Then do. Please…do.”
Nathaniel tilted his hips up for the pillow Abram snatched to push beneath him, then
wrapped one leg around Abram’s waist and lifted the other to rest his calf on Abram’s
shoulder. Abram groaned as he settled into position. Too good, God. Far too good.
Lube first, though Abram would admit he was in too much of a hurry to warm it up in
his hands. Nathaniel arched and hissed at the cold touch of the slippery stuff, drawing
Abram closer with the springy strength in his limbs.
Abram shuddered at the feel of him, so tight yet willing to yield. Driving inside him
would be heaven. He seized on Nathaniel’s cock, hard and thick against his belly. No slouch
in that department himself, was he? God, but it was all Abram could have desired, this—to
lie skin to skin with the amber-eyed imp, stroking Nathaniel’s pretty cock and thrusting his
fingers deep into Nathaniel’s ass. Despite his desire to keep his eyes open, he had to let his
lids flutter shut, drowning himself in the dark and the sensation of Nathaniel’s cock
throbbing in his palm—the sway and the sound of the bed moving with them, bumping with
a steady rhythm into the wall.
He could feel Nathaniel’s balls drawing up tight and hard.
“Abe…oh, Abram,” he managed to say, fisting his hands in the comforter. “Going to…”
“Not before me,” Abram grunted. He moved faster, pushing his fingers deeper. The
slickness between them grew sticky with creamy drops of pre-cum. His hand slipped off
Nathaniel’s cock, making him swear, then come back with a harder grip.
The things this little minx did to him, God.
Abram tried to stop. Tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t. “Damn it,” he growled. “No
time. Wanted to be in you, or you in me…”
“There’s time. All the time we need,” Nathaniel soothed.
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Abram wanted to believe him. He felt too good, though, and Abram knew his own
limits. The spirit might be willing but the body was weak, and Nathaniel was a source of
pure ecstasy. So new and different, almost exotic, and yet familiar in a way—
Abram came with a sharp, surprised cry. Nathaniel moaned, unintelligible words in his
hungry kiss, before bucking up hard.
“You and me,” Abram thought he heard Nathaniel saying as he drifted down from the
pinnacle, leaning all his heavy weight onto the amber-eyed beauty. He wasn’t any sack of
feathers, but Nathaniel bore him up without a word of complaint. Far from it, in fact. “You
and me,” he said, over and over again. “And the rest of the world be damned. As long as I
know you’re with me, that’s all I want.”
“Shush,” Abram said, wrapping an arm around Nathaniel to make him lie still.
Otherwise, he might have said me too. And he couldn’t do that to Nathaniel, now could he?
“Shush. Just lie here with me for a while.”
* * * *
A while became nearly an hour, then two. Nathaniel didn’t feel any hurry to rouse
himself from the body-warm, tangled sheets. He lay on his side, one hand at Abram’s chest.
Abram’s eyes were heavy-lidded, but he never drifted too far toward the wrong edge of
sleep.
He was a good man, Nathaniel decided, not for the first time. Even if he hadn’t been
Nathaniel’s soulmate—and he was, he had to be—Nathaniel believed he could have fallen for
this one. Age didn’t matter. What was age but experience?
He propped himself on one elbow, cheek in his hand, and sifted his fingertips lightly
through Abram’s chest hair. “Tell me about Callum?”
At first, Nathaniel thought he might have gone too far—that Abram wouldn’t want to
talk about him when naked in bed together—but he breathed a sigh of relief when Abram’s
first sharp look faded into rueful amusement.
“I might have known you’d ask.”
“You said he would have liked me,” Nathaniel ventured, laying his palm over Abram’s
heart. “You honestly think so?”
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Abram grunted. “I know so. You really want to hear about him?”
Nathaniel nodded. He’d want to say a private thank you to the man later, for rasping
off all of Abram’s rough edges and molding him into such a fine fellow, and it would be
better to know the person he owed that gratitude to.
“He was…” Abram exhaled then said with a light chuckle after a moment’s
consideration, “Practical. Utterly practical. Not a single drop of romance in him, much less
sentimentality. You couldn’t have found a straighter-shooting fellow on God’s green earth.”
He stroked Nathaniel’s slim wrist. “He said he’d leave the hearts and flowers to me.”
Privately, Nathaniel agreed that would have been the wiser arrangement.
“You got along well, though,” he said rather than asked. “You loved him.”
Though it wasn’t a question, Abram answered all the same. “With every part of me—
and all my heart. Practicality had its own charm, you know—especially for a young couple.
You’ve seen enough of the kind for yourself, I’d imagine. All those panic moments like
‘where do we live’ and ‘we’ve got money for hamburgers, or for Ramen and rent, so which
do we want more’. He always knew what to do and the way he put things, I could see so
clearly how they fell into place. Made life easy.” Abram raised one shoulder. “And he could
suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, so there was that, too.”
Nathaniel dissolved into giggles. “That’s not nothing, no,” he said around a mixture of
laughter and yawn.
Abram must have noticed. He spread the flat of his big palm wide across Nathaniel’s
back. “Nap for a while, will you? And give an old man an excuse to do the same.”
Nathaniel’s eyes did want to close. “As long as you’ll still be here when I wake up,” he
bargained.
“It’s my house. Where am I going to go?” Abram stroked slow sweeps down
Nathaniel’s side. “Go to sleep, now. I’ll be here. I can promise you that much, at least.”
Abram could see the weariness in the young man—rightly-earned exhaustion. He’d
been even more of a spitfire than Abram might have imagined, and his imagination hadn’t
gone easy on the details or the trimmings.
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Whoo, Lord. He did breathe easier once Nathaniel had dropped off into a light doze.
Mostly because then, and only then, could he sneak a peek at his soulmark without inciting
Nathaniel to riot.
He would have, too. Abram felt it first, beneath his questing fingertips. He didn’t need
to look. He could sense it, and had since Nathaniel had come apart in his arms. Like lighting
a match, or a fuse.
Starting an alchemical…change. Bringing the lines and shading of his mark back to life.
Good God. Nathaniel couldn’t have been right. Could he? It didn’t work that way. Never
had.
But did never had mean never-would? Abram covered the slightly, ever so slightly
darker mark, blocking it from his sight. That’d change everything, if it wasn’t only a trick of
his imagination.
Though he didn’t normally welcome cold calls, or interruptions when he had a good
night’s sleep to be getting on with, Abram very damned near pounced on the phone when it
rang—even if he had no idea who in Folly’s Bow might be calling.
Take care of business now, Abram. Save the rest of your thinking for dawn’s early light.
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Chapter Five
The night of the lunar eclipse party
Nathaniel opened his eyes.
He blinked once, twice, and again at the dove-gray sky framed in Abram’s picture
window. Partially bare branches swayed in the light morning breeze that sifted through the
curtains to tickle Nathaniel’s toes. His feet were uncovered, but he’d wound the entirety of
Abram’s duvet around himself to make a human burrito.
He worked one arm free of the tangle, tucked his hand under his cheek and smiled. No
need to wonder what’d happened. He’d been there, and he planned on keeping those
memories fresh as daisies and polished as diamonds.
People said it was never anything like they’d expected, when they found their
soulmates. Who’d have thought they were right?
Contented down to his bones, Nathaniel idled, stretching out his arms and legs and
pointing his toes. A correction to his first thought had begun to seep into his mind, and
wouldn’t be pushed aside. He could have sworn he remembered Abram creeping out of bed,
but if it was only now—he checked—eight o’clock, then he must have left in the wee small
hours of the night.
That didn’t make sense. Nathaniel frowned.
His frown deepened when he turned his head and saw that Abram had taken the
initiative to fold and stack the scattered clothes on a chair in the corner, right where
Nathaniel was most likely to look. He’d even put Nathaniel’s shoes on top of the pile, with
his phone and keys on the corner of the chair. The chair itself sat directly beneath a framed
photo of a small man with a frank, weather-beaten sort of face. Callum? Must have been. He
seemed to be watching Nathaniel and disapproving of him.
He couldn’t hear Abram moving about anywhere in the house. Had he gone?
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If it were anyone else… Nathaniel sat up in bed, forehead creased with concern. It
couldn’t be, because he’d been there and he knew Abram cared for him. Even if Abram
didn’t believe him, he…
But clothes stacked up like this and his partner of the night disappeared without a
word?
Kind of hard not to start thinking of uneasy answers to his questions.
The shrill peal of his phone split the air. Nathaniel yelped and jumped nearly out of his
nest of duvet and sheets. He tripped his way out of the tangle and only barely snagged his
phone before the call went to voicemail.
Some small, kindly god did him a favor, then. He looked at the readout before he
answered. Otherwise he’d have asked “Abram?” instead of “hello?” and oh, he would never
have lived that down—especially not with this caller.
Nathaniel depressed the Talk key and knuckled his forehead. “Cade,” he said. “What
are you calling me for?”
* * * *
Of all the things…
Cade waited for Nathaniel right where he’d said he would, perched on the hood of his
car—which he’d locked his keys inside. Sucking soda through a straw, eating a sausage
biscuit and scattering crumbs everywhere. Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose and
sighed. The bus driver had given him the strangest look for asking to be let off at a rough
truck stop, and Nathaniel couldn’t blame him. Wearing the same clothes he’d had on the day
before, probably still smelling like sex—there wasn’t much about him that didn’t shout ‘rent
boy’.
Well, except for his soulmark, now as dark as India ink on his pale, smooth skin, but he
wasn’t about to show that off to a stranger. Some things were more important than pride.
“I hope you bought enough to share,” Nathaniel said, once he’d trudged close enough
to be heard without shouting.
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“’Course I did.” Cade lobbed a roundish thing wrapped in wax paper at Nathaniel. It
smelled of bacon and butter, which was the only reason Nathaniel didn’t pitch it straight
back at him.
Nathaniel tucked the biscuit in his knapsack and dug for the multi-purpose tool he
carried. Cade had one somewhere too, though his was likely buried under rubbish in his
back seat. They’d gotten them at Robbie’s insistence. He’d dealt with too many people locked
out of their cars to have any patience with them. Nathaniel wondered if Robbie had used
something similar to break into cars and jack rides when he was younger, but he’d never
asked. Neither of them would have liked the answer.
Things had changed since then. Even if he’d been and gone, back then, Ivan had made
all the difference to Robbie’s life. Made him a new man. Half of a whole.
Nathaniel tamped down the urge to stroke his soulmark.
“What are you doing back in town, anyway?” he asked, as he sorted fruitlessly through
the tumble of pens and bookmarks that never failed to gather in any duffel of his. “I thought
you were going to be in Folly’s Bow for at least a week.”
Cade raised one shoulder and—maddeningly, for a man who normally wouldn’t shut
up—said nothing.
At first. He waited for Nathaniel to lay hands on the multi-tool before he wadded up
his biscuit wrapper with a loud crinkle and said, “Wrinkled clothes. Bedhead. You know
what that says to me?”
“Oh God. Please don’t,” Nathaniel begged.
Of course Cade took that as an invitation. His face cracked open in a broad, shit-eating
grin. “You look like you just got laid. A lot.”
“Cade, I will murder you.”
Cade shrugged off the threat with enviable aplomb. Probably with just cause, as
Nathaniel set to work on jimmying the car window open instead of using the multi-tool on
Cade’s head. He sighed. Sometimes he liked having two brothers on his side, but other
times…
Cade leaned across the hood to take a juicy-sounding sniff of Nathaniel’s hair. “Oh
yeah,” he said, cackling. “Not a trace of shampoo. A hell of a lot of traces of other things. You
had a good night, didn’t you?”
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Nathaniel growled under his breath and carried on working at the stubborn window.
He could see Cade’s own multi-tool lying on the backseat. Damn Cade for reminding him he
hadn’t taken the time to shower before leaving Abram’s. He hated getting dirty, and though
he didn’t mind getting sweaty for a good cause, it made his skin itch like absolute hell
afterward. His arms in particular. They tingled and twitched where his shirtsleeves scraped
across the skin.
“At least I’m not the one who got himself stranded in a truck stop parking lot,” he
snapped. “Are the biscuits really that good, or were you meeting a friend?”
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” said Cade, who wouldn’t be so easily deterred.
His grin widened. “Were you with your soulmate? Don’t lie, baby brother. I know you. You
were, weren’t you? Is he good in bed? From the looks of you, I’m betting he is. And hmm,
he’s a big son of a bitch, isn’t he? Tall, I mean. And big in the other way too.”
Nathaniel popped the window, dropped the multi-tool, and dug his fingers into his
hair. “Cade, stop it. What do you know about soulmates, anyway?”
“More than you think I do.” Cade’s grin slowly faded as he watched Nathaniel. “You
okay? You look like you’ve gotten ants in your pants now and soulmate or not, if whoever
this is gave you crabs, then he and I are going to have a serious talk.”
“He didn’t—oh, damn it.” Nathaniel couldn’t help himself. His arms itched so, and on
his shoulder, his soulmark in particular needled at him. Maybe something to do with
Abram’s laundry detergent or the bond they hadn’t fully finalized with a bite…? “Don’t
look,” he ordered, knowing Cade wouldn’t listen, before he gave in and slid his hand up his
sleeve for a good scratch. Oh God, that was better. He sighed with ragged relief.
“Maybe I don’t know a whole fuck of a lot about soulmates,” Cade said slowly. His
eyebrows were drawn together in a frown that mixed equal parts concern and disapproval.
And wasn’t that just rich? “But I know marks aren’t supposed to bug you like that once
they’ve come in.”
Nathaniel shook his head and said nothing. Cade might be stubborn, but Nathaniel
knew he could outlast his brother.
Finally, Cade sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said. “Because if you
don’t, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
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He wasn’t wrong. Nathaniel had to admit that, if nothing else. He winced as he—still
turned away from Cade’s prying eyes—pushed his collar down to take a look at the mark.
Probably nothing more than a mild irritation from not showering or from the strange
bedding or—
Something about the way he stilled, utterly and completely, must have put Cade on
high alert.
“Whoa. Are you all right?” Cade asked, sliding off the hood of the car and hitting the
sidewalk with a double-thump. “Nathaniel?”
Nathaniel held up one hand with the palm out. “I’m fine,” he said, throat dry.
“I’m…fine. It’s all right.”
Cade’s snort was ripe with disbelief, but he let that one go.
Of all the things and at all the times. Nathaniel covered the mark back up. It couldn’t
be. It didn’t make sense, and…
* * * *
“Abram, if you’ve got a few minutes we need to go over the—” Ivan stopped with one
foot in and one foot outside Abram’s office, his loosely-curled fist held in the air instead of
following through with a knock to the doorjamb. “Not again.”
Abram cast a brief glance up at his friend from amidst the disassembled wreckage of his
DVD player. “Again? More like still.”
“Huh.” Ivan visibly digested that, looking more dubious by the moment. He sloped
into Abram’s office and dropped into the seat before the desk, tapping one finger against his
knee. “Not that I’m trying to tell you how to live your life, but at some point you’ve either
got to buy a new one or take it to someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“I’ll get there in the end,” Abram said. He wiped a tickling smudge off his cheek—no
idea how it’d gotten there. Electronics weren’t generally that messy—though, all things
considered, he expected that any time now black would become white and up would become
down, and they’d all go flying into the sun.
Ivan whistled quietly. “Okay. Suit yourself. I thought you had today off, though?”
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“Changed my mind.” Abram shrugged, irritated. “Couldn’t settle at home. You know
how that is. Speaking of, everything going all right with Robbie?”
“Fine.” Ivan kept watching him. “Which you know. You’d have heard if it wasn’t, but it
is. We’re working out the fine details. Cade and Nathaniel are old enough to rent and
maintain Robbie’s house on their own, unless they find soulmates between now and then—”
Abram winced. Only slightly. Far more than any detective worth his salt needed to
pounce upon.
“Ah.” Ivan leaned back in the chair, studying Abram openly now. “Want to tell me
what’s going on?”
Abram propped his chin on his hand and flicked a stray scrap of wire at Ivan. “What
happened to not telling me how to live my life, again?”
“I’m not,” Ivan said, deflecting the bit of copper wire and batting it into a trashcan.
“This is me being concerned, as friends tend to be. My best guess would be it’s something to
do with Callum’s family. Is it?”
“It’s not—” Abram stopped himself. Good God, he’d nearly blurted it out. And of
course Ivan—who didn’t know any better—would think of Callum first and only. He crossed
his arms, not so coincidentally clapping his palm across his reviving soulmark. “Not exactly,
but for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re closer to the truth than that.”
Ivan raised an eyebrow. “Okay. I’ll bite. And?”
And. Wasn’t that a loaded question? Abram moved his fingers slowly, stroking over his
soulmark. He imagined he could feel the differences and changes even with the cotton in his
way—which wasn’t possible, but never mind that. Lots of things weren’t supposed to be
possible, weren’t they?
His mark had changed. For years it’d been pale and flat, like old scars. Now the color
had come back, and the lines were raised again, almost embossed against the bare skin. He’d
heard a hell of a lot of stories about soulmarks in his day, but never one like this.
What if Nathaniel was right? If they were soulmates? What the hell would that mean?
He tightened his fist around the screwdriver he’d meant to start tacking the wretched DVD
player back together with.
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Item the first—while Nathaniel didn’t seem bothered now, how long would he truly be
happy with a mate almost twenty-five years older than him? He might be more mature than
most young men his age, but even so…
Item the second—twenty-five years difference in their ages didn’t only mean Abram
would go soft and wrinkly long before Nathaniel did. Unless technology took a running
jump start, he had maybe twenty-five more years to go in his allotted lifespan. Possibly less,
given his occupation. This wasn’t exactly New York, but it sure as hell wasn’t Mayberry. He
could be killed in the line of duty. He knew that. He’d accepted it long ago. But the chance of
leaving Nathaniel as a widower—God, no, that didn’t bear thinking about.
Item the third—hell. Abram sighed from the core of his chest and sat back, copying
Ivan’s pose. “Tell me something,” he said.
Ivan, who’d waited patiently, nodded without speaking and made a ‘bring it’ gesture.
His face was crinkled with concern, but he didn’t push.
There goes a good friend, ladies and gentlemen.
Abram decided to push his luck. “If you had a chance to go back and start fresh with
Robbie, would you? I don’t mean meeting him again. I mean, meeting him for the first time.
At your age, with as much life experience as you have. Would you?”
Ivan blinked, but that was the only hint he gave to his surprise—and he considered the
question seriously, lacing his hands together and pressing the tips of his forefingers to his
chin. “Yes,” he said at last. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I found him again. My life would
be emptier than I can say without him. I didn’t know how empty. But if the choice was
between getting it wrong for ten years, and getting it right immediately, I would choose to
have lived without him until we both had our heads on straight.” He cracked a rueful smile.
“Living without him was hell, but if I didn’t know what I’d been missing? It’s not even a
choice. He’d probably punch me in the head for saying that. And I’d deserve it.”
Abram let the last syllable fall into silence. He leaned his head back and stared at the
ceiling for a moment. You can’t miss what you don’t have. They hadn’t completed a bond. It’d
take his teeth in Nathaniel’s slim neck for that, and Nathaniel’s bite on his skin.
It’d be torment turning back now, but wouldn’t it be for the better in the end?
Ivan shifted, either restless or worried or both. “Do you want to tell me what this is
about?” he asked, right before the silence became unbearable.
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Nathaniel would hate him, but so be it. He could live with that, as long as Nathaniel
could live freely—maybe even take other lovers. Have a long and happy life among his
beloved books and teapots, with his brothers to watch his back.
“No,” Abram said, making up his mind. He rubbed absently at his soulmark to soothe
the itch as his single-word reply fell with a final sort of dull thud. “I don’t.”
* * * *
Nathaniel managed to hold off until halfway through Dennis’ eclipse party before he
tried sneaking his phone out again. It served Cade right, getting whacked over the head with
the discovery of his soulmate, though he might wince on poor Dennis’ behalf. At least it
should—should—keep him occupied long enough to let Nathaniel send a text.
Well, another text—one of several. He’d started off sweetly enough, he thought, though
maybe he hadn’t. He’d had a hard enough time just keeping Cade’s mitts off his phone.
As the evening went on, though, he’d lost some of his cool.
With one eye on the bedroom door through which Cade had disappeared, Dennis in
tow, Nathaniel typed a message as fast as he could, and hit Send before he could change his
mind.
Abram, where are you? We need to talk. Please text back? — Nathaniel
He pocketed the phone and reached for his collar. Still keeping a careful eye out for any
signs of the bedroom door opening, he snuck another peek at his soulmark.
It’d looked like an iris before. An iris on the verge of blooming, hadn’t he said? Talk
about being careful what he wished for. It didn’t make sense, but—
Nathaniel traced the fainter lines to either side of his mark. Lines that were growing
darker by the moment, and spreading outward in angles and rays. Geometric curves and
elegant swoops.
And nothing at all like Abram’s, now.
Nathaniel pressed his hands to his eyes. He needed to get out of here, soon. Needed to
see Abram, and—and—
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His train of thought juddered to a stop there. And what? he asked himself.
Tell him I was wrong?
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Chapter Six
Abram sat slumped over his dining room table, blinking tired red eyes. Sleep and he
had never been the best of friends. Sometimes, he’d have been hard put to describe them as
‘passing acquaintances’. Part of a more-or-less chronic insomnia was down to the job. He was
self-aware enough to be sure of that. But as to the rest of it… Well, who knew? Unlike first
Callum then Nathaniel. One orgasm, and goodnight Vienna.
He leaned back in his chair, tipping its front legs off the floor then coming back down
with a thump. His tired mind caught hold of a thread and tugged at it, curious to see where
it’d lead. Callum would have loved Nathaniel, for all their differences and most of their
similarities. Though Nathaniel was quiet as a mouse and Callum had been all bash, crash,
and shout, both of them wore their hearts on their sleeves.
Maybe there was something to that.
A hushed ticking from the den pricked up Abram’s ears. He could just see the television
stand and DVD player from where he’d situated himself at his rarely-used dining table,
meaning to keep an eye on one hopefully-finished task while he gathered up the balls to deal
with another.
The DVD player’s digital clock showed an accurate 8:15. Good. He’d spent an hour or
so the night before watching home videos, and it hadn’t broken down again yet. See? I do
know what I’m doing.
Sort of.
Abram rubbed his too-dry eyes with the rough palms of both hands. Ending it now
only made sense. Nathaniel wouldn’t like it, but he was young. He’d live.
“Hell with it,” he muttered behind the safe barrier of his hands. “How’d I get into this
mess, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” a quiet little voice replied, as a brush lighter than a hummingbird’s
wing grazed his shoulder and scared the ever-living bejeezus out of him. He jumped, almost
knocking his chair over, and thumped a fist against his chest.
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Nathaniel stood three feet away, hands raised in the classic ‘I surrender’ pose, eyes
wide. “Sorry. I was trying to surprise you.”
“You sure as death and taxes succeeded,” Abram said, still trying to tuck his heart back
down from its current position lodged in his throat. “How did you even get in? Christ. If I
still had any growing to do, you’d have shocked three inches off of me.”
The corners of Nathaniel’s mouth curved up. “Sorry,” he said again, as demure as he
was mischievous. “I won’t do it again. I found a key under the flowerpot at the front door.
Cops never seem to know better—at least the cops I’ve met. Are you okay?”
Abram gave him a dose of dubious side-eye. “Sure, you’ll never do it again. I know
your type. You’re planning when and where and how, and whether you should sell tickets or
plant video cameras.”
By the time he’d finished the whole of that speech, Nathaniel had a hand pressed to his
mouth, with giggles bubbling up behind it. His cheeks were pink with mirth. “Am I that
transparent?”
“Nope. I’m just a quick study, and you made something of an impression on me,”
Abram said.
Nathaniel looked pleased by that. Abram? He kept his wince internal. Great job, well
done. Fine way to start off a breakup. He shoved back the urge to reach for Nathaniel’s hand and
pull the amber-eyed minx onto his lap for a kiss. If he started, he would never stop, and he
wasn’t the kind of bastard who would give with one hand while taking away with the other.
Or at least he tried not to be, even if the sense memory of Nathaniel in his arms was
strong enough to make his cock stir. Instead he set his jaw, frowning at Nathaniel. “You look
exhausted.” Faint lilac circles under his eyes, hair in disarray, and a not-so-faint whiff of both
smoke and iced beer. “Rough night?”
“I could ask you the same.” Nathaniel shrugged. “Went to a party with Cade last night.
Or rather, he went to a party with me. You’ve heard enough about Cade to know he mostly
goes where he wants and does what he likes. And every time he gets himself in trouble, he
gets right back out again.”
“Charming guy, your brother.”
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“Isn’t he?” Nathaniel shook his head, his smile becoming more private—and cuter,
Abram couldn’t help but notice, before it faded altogether. “I sent you a couple of texts last
night. Did you get them?”
The correct answer would be that yes, he had. And he’d barely read them before
deleting each one.
“Nope,” Abram said. The lie tasted bitter and lingered unpleasantly on his tongue, but
he had to start somewhere with cruelty for the sake of kindness. Didn’t he? “I had other
things to do.”
Nathaniel stiffened, clearly as hurt by that as Abram had intended—but then narrowed
his eyes, his gaze roving far too insightfully over him for Abram’s taste just then. “What’s
wrong?”
“Nothing,” Abram said. If they were going to do this now, he might as well go at it with
guns blazing, and save the softer letdown for his memories. “Nothing at all, little boy. Why
do you ask?”
“Because I’m not an idiot,” Nathaniel said. Abram looked exhausted—like he hadn’t
slept in days, or maybe longer—or like he’d tried to rest and had had nightmares so awful he
hadn’t been able to bear trying again. “Because I may not know you too well yet, but I know
you’re not the kind of man who’s cruel purely for the hell of it. So why don’t you tell me
what’s going on?”
Abram folded his arms and gave Nathaniel a stony stare that backed him up almost
before he knew he’d started moving. Nearly sent him to the far side of the room.
“Abram?” Nathaniel asked again, trying to make sense. “I know there is a reason. Tell
me.”
Abram scoffed. “Tell you what? You don’t know me half as well as you think you do,”
he said, flat as frozen water. “But then, you wouldn’t know much about anything, as young
as you are. God, you’re green. Thinking you understand the world from everything you’ve
read about it in a book. Grow up.”
That stung. As, Nathaniel was sure, Abram had meant for it to do. “You thought I was
plenty grown up when you were fucking me,” he retorted.
Abram’s expression didn’t change. Not a whit. “Which I shouldn’t have done.”
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The shot landed in Nathaniel’s gut. He covered his soulmark, which burned beneath his
palm with the slow smolder of chili powder and tattoo needles. “I’m sorry? No, not
apologizing-sorry. Say that again?”
“What do you want me to say? It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have encouraged you.”
Abram looked as impenetrable as the sheer side of a cliff, and he sat as stolidly as a mountain
that refused to be moved. It probably worked wonders when he interviewed suspects. Only
the faint flex and tightening of his fingers gave him away. “You aren’t my mate, Nathaniel,
and I’m done playing. Is that clear enough, or should I go back to the beginning and use
smaller words?”
Nathaniel drove his teeth into his lip, almost hard enough to break the skin. The shock
of pain didn’t work as well as he’d hoped to steady him. “Why are you being like this?”
“Because apparently, you don’t have enough sense to listen to subtext,” Abram said.
“You need it spelled out loud and clear. Fine. Suits me. Go away, Nathaniel. Be glad I don’t
arrest you for breaking and entering. We’re done here.”
“No.” Nathaniel lifted his chin, and squared his stance. “I entered, but I didn’t break. I
won’t break. I want to know what’s gotten into you, because this isn’t you. Come on. Ivan
wouldn’t tell all these stories about ‘his friend Abram’ if you really were this much of an
asshole.”
“Maybe Ivan’s a bit of an asshole too. Ever think of that?”
“Oh yes. Plenty of times, after he and Robbie split up.” Nathaniel made his feet move.
One step then another, carrying him closer to Abram, betting that Abram wouldn’t budge
from his place. That was fine. Nathaniel didn’t mind being the one to do the heavy lifting.
Abram raised one shoulder in a rough, meant-to-be-careless shrug. “There you have it,
then.”
“No. I don’t.” Nathaniel kept coming. “You wouldn’t have set up your bed facing a
picture window if you didn’t have an imagination. And if you truly didn’t want me, you
could have said no. You didn’t. I have two brothers, Abram, and I might be young but trust
me, I’ve seen just about every stunt a guy can pull when it comes to fucking up their love life.
You’re trying to pick a fight, because you want me to hate you.”
“Am I really?”
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“Yes.” Nathaniel stopped two inches from Abram’s nose. “And even if it was all a joke
to you from the start—which I know it wasn’t—I’ve earned an honest answer when I ask you
why. Talk.”
Abram barely blinked. “Look at you, thinking you can give me orders. I’ve been yelled
at by so much tougher. Why don’t we turn it around, Nathaniel? Why don’t you tell me why
you came? Looking for a second helping? Don’t give me those calf eyes. You knew you
weren’t my mate.” He worked the jet bead from his ear and let it drop on the table with a
loud, accusing click. “I’ve had a mate. A good one. And he wasn’t you, thank God.”
The jet bead rolled off Abram’s table, disappearing on the far side. Nathaniel couldn’t
tell where it’d gone.
“You talk now,” Abram said. “And for God’s sake, would you stop gripping that mark
of yours like a set of pearls?”
He made a grab for Nathaniel before Nathaniel could stop him or even think of trying.
So fast for such a big man and defter than one would think. Easy to forget how quickly the
mountain could move when Mohammed had a burr under his saddle. He had Nathaniel’s
elbow in his hand and had jostled Nathaniel’s hand off his marked shoulder before Nathaniel
could blink, and—
And there wasn’t very much left to say at all. At least it put a zip on Abram’s lips. If
nothing else, Nathaniel had that much.
Weighed up against his bleeding pride and the gnawed hole in his chest where his heart
usually rested, it wasn’t worth the tradeoff.
“You want to know why I came?” Nathaniel asked when he couldn’t bear another
second of Abram staring in silence. He jerked free of Abram’s now-gentler hold, and turned
his arm to show the mark and how it had changed, was still changing, lines spreading out in
lush petals and curves. “For this.”
Abram shook his head. He covered his mouth with his hand, his breathing loud and
gruff behind it. “Nathaniel…”
“I came to tell you I know now you’re not my mate.” Nathaniel told himself he could
take pride in the steadiness of his voice, but he didn’t really believe that. “And that I was
sorry. That you were right, and I was wrong, but I hoped we could still be friends. That
would have been nice.”
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Abram stared at him with a sort of blank stillness, as if he were shocked for some reason,
and Nathaniel had had enough.
“But so much for that,” he said, letting his sleeve slide back down. “Don’t bother
getting up. I’ll see myself out. Have a nice life, Abram. I hope you enjoy it.”
He turned his back, not looking over his shoulder once, as he made for the door and
knocked it open with his hip. As he left Abram behind.
Abram waited for the door to slam shut before he dropped his head to the table with a
heavy thud and a blast of pain from the impact that, in his opinion, he richly deserved—for a
start.
Dear God. He’d expected it would be bad. He hadn’t realized what a particular shade of
fucking awful reality would turn out to be.
The look on his face. Like I’d thrust a knife right into his heart. Which he had, hadn’t he?
And in the end it’d been for nothing. That mark on his shoulder…
Abram gave a frustrated growl. If he’d seen that mark on anyone else, out of the blue,
he’d have thought it the masterpiece of a tattoo artist. Gorgeous radial arches and sinuous,
sensual curves. Whole schools of philosophers argued over how to interpret the meaning of
shapes and designs, but Abram preferred to see them as art. Nathaniel’s developing mark
made him think of an iris in full bloom, with a chambered nautilus as its center. Beautiful.
As lovely as its owner. Sure left his skinny design in the dust, didn’t it? He would have
liked to be friends with Nathaniel.
No, be honest. You would have liked to be his lover. And even if it wasn’t possible, deep down
you liked the idea of being his mate or you wouldn’t have let it go as far as it did.
“And for what?” Abram asked himself out loud.
“You’re an idiot,” Callum said. Also out loud.
“Son of a—” Abram shouted in surprise. He flinched and barked his knees against the
underside of the dining table. At least he knew what this was—the fucking DVD player gone
back to its old tricks. Whatever peculiar alchemy made it jump to life and start running had
turned the volume up to maximum, making the sides of the television shake and rattle.
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He’d left a home video in the player. Figured. Must have skipped ahead to the next
track on the disc—the screen Callum now looked triumphantly grumpy in the light of a late
afternoon at least ten years gone.
Abram shot the television a baleful glower as he stood. His heart couldn’t take much
more of this.
On the screen, Callum glowered right back at him. Abram recognized the footage as
having been filmed after a camping trip they’d taken to the Appalachians. He’d pitched their
tent in a patch of poison ivy and the results had been nothing short of spectacular the
morning after. His skin crawled with a sympathetic, remembered itch.
“Well? What are you going to do about it?” DVD-Callum demanded.
The camera angle dipped left and right. “What should I do?” his long-ago self asked of
Callum. Teasing him.
Callum rolled his eyes to the heavens, but at the same time he was fighting back a smile.
The louder he got, the more affectionate he was, and the more he shouted, the easier it was to
hear his way of saying I love you. “Ugh, you gigantic ass,” DVD-Callum scolded him. “Why are
you asking me?”
Abram stopped in front of the set. He’d meant to turn it down, but something didn’t
seem right about not letting Callum express himself at top decibel. “Because you usually
have better answers than I do,” he answered, a beat off sync with his video-self.
His soulmark itched dully, nettles beneath the skin. Irritated, he gave it a good
rub…and stopped.
“I’m not making it easy on you this time,” said DVD-Callum. “Nope. But I will give you a
hint for the next time you decide we need an adventure. If a thing itches? Stop scratching and use your
eyes. Truth can’t be worse than the things you imagine, and for fuck’s sake, sometimes it’s better. Or
at the very least, it needs to be taken care of, so stop dicking around and look.”
Abram didn’t want to. He couldn’t. If Nathaniel had been wrong…then did it
necessarily follow that he, Abram, had been right?
What if…? Oh God, what if?
DVD-Callum softened, rueful lines crinkling on his face, familiar love in his gaze. “It’s
not the end of the world. Just take care of it, all right?”
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Abram swallowed, a hard knot going down his throat. Ridiculous for a man his size to
start shaking, but he couldn’t stop it as he pushed up his sleeve and did what Callum
ordered one more time.
He shut his eyes and exhaled, a long shudder.
Then, with the military precision he’d never quite lost in times of trial, squared his
shoulders and swung about on his heel.
“It’ll be all right in the end,” the DVD-Callum said as Abram marched out of the door,
letting it bang back on its hinges. “Good luck, love.”
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Chapter Seven
Sun broke through the cloud cover, dappling Nathaniel in variegated patches of light
and shadow as he trudged forward, head down, hoping he’d picked the right direction that
would lead him to a bus stop. He tucked his hands in his pockets, cold both inside and out.
He’d been so wrong, and so sure he was right. Cade would laugh himself sick.
No, strike that. If Cade ever found out, he’d pound Abram into a greasy stain on the
floor. Nathaniel made a face. God, no. Cade could never be told. Nor Robbie. They’d want to
defend him. Their hearts would be in the right place.
Only, what did that matter when he’d made the bed himself and had to lie in it
anyway?
The low, distant grumbling of a diesel engine made Nathaniel prick up his ears. He’d
taken the right path after all. Small mercies. He lifted his head, meaning to scan the street for
the oncoming bus. The sooner he put some distance between himself and Abram, the quicker
he’d… Well, Nathaniel didn’t know what would happen next. He started to raise his hand,
meaning to wave down the driver.
It didn’t quite work out as he’d planned. A strong, dark hand took his wrist, startling
him into turning.
“Abram?” Nathaniel blinked up at the big man and tried to free himself. Not easy.
Abram brought all his strength to bear in both holding on and holding still. “Stop it. What do
you want?”
Abram opened his mouth, closed it, and looked almost helpless—and dear, still. So very
dear that Nathaniel wanted to put his arms around the man, hug him, and promise
everything would be all right. Maybe that was part of being a soulmate, but Nathaniel had
his doubts. That might be part of Abram’s charm, working its magic.
Nathaniel sighed. Even if he was the kind of guy who could hold a grudge, he wouldn’t
have wanted to. “Abram,” he tried again. “What is it? I left the key inside your house.”
Abram shook his head. He rubbed one broad palm over his goatee, exhaling behind his
hand then held up a finger. Give me a second.
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Nathaniel frowned. The bus he’d heard was getting close, from the sound of the engine.
“Spit it out, Abram. Just tell me.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across Abram’s face. “You were right all along.”
And of all the things Nathaniel might have expected to hear, that was not one of them.
His lips parted in surprise. “What?”
“I said it once, and God knows I should say it again. I’m an ass, and I’m a bad, bad man.
No, hush. Pretty, hush.” Abram touched the tip of Nathaniel’s chin lightly, so lightly, barely
a brush of skin against skin—but oh, the hunger it woke—like a wildcat unfurling from a nap
with a proud roar, ready for the chase.
Nathaniel didn’t understand. Not at first. But when Abram’s hand went to his sleeve,
he began to hope. “Abram…”
An inch at a time—no, half an inch, a quarter-inch—Abram rolled up his sleeve, and
turned his arm to show Nathaniel the mark on his shoulder. His beautiful mark, not merely
an iris on the verge of opening anymore—a full, glorious bloom with a chambered center,
covering nearly the full width of his shoulder like an epaulette. Drawn in a larger scale for a
larger limb, but the same.
Exactly the same as Nathaniel’s, now.
Nathaniel pressed his hands to his mouth.
“We both still had some changes to make,” Abram said. With the sun behind him, he
shaded Nathaniel from the brightness and blaze, a solid tower of strength and wishful hope.
“It isn’t possible—and yet. And yet. But that’s what you are, I think. Like Callum, only new.
Making the impossible into reality. God, Nathaniel. I swear I’ll never do that again. Only…
Look, I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t forgive me. But I’m going to ask all the same.”
He could have said no, Nathaniel knew. He could have made Abram work for his
absolution.
But Nathaniel didn’t quite trust himself to speak. He let his body do the talking for him.
His arms fitted around Abram’s neck, just long enough to reach and lace his fingers together
behind Abram’s nape, and he was just tall enough to stand on his tiptoes and touch a kiss to
Abram’s lips.
That was good, indeed.
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When Abram bent his head and returned the kiss, with interest—that was better than
anything else could ever be.
* * * *
When Abram had come home from work the night before, he’d stripped his bed down
to the mattress and put on clean, new sheets. Everything had been changed out, from the
pillowcases to the duvet. He’d told himself it would help his cause if he didn’t catch a whiff
of Nathaniel’s personal scent every time he turned his head, trying to sleep.
Which hadn’t worked—but that didn’t matter now. He breathed deep, drinking in the
heady mix of pheromones and warm skin.
Heaven.
Abram lay on his side, comfort less important than watching Nathaniel properly.
Nathaniel didn’t seem to mind. Far from it. He lay on his side too, letting Abram look all he
wanted as he teased his way down from waist to hip, then curving inward to drag his
fingernail over Abram’s zipper. He molded his palm over Abram’s cock and kneaded him
exactly right, not too hard but nowhere near gentle.
“Do you like that?” Nathaniel murmured, sliding closer, close enough to speak softly
near Abram’s ear. “Tell me.”
Abram’s lips parted. “God. Don’t I just?” He lifted his hips and nudged, gently. “You
don’t have to ask. As long as you don’t stop.”
“Not planning on it. Ever.” Nathaniel rolled his hips, nudging his way ever more firmly
into Abram’s hand. He nuzzled beneath Abram’s chin, nipping at the points of his
cheekbones and chin. “Say it again?”
“Don’t stop.” Abram licked his lips and let out a rough and ragged breath that dried
them again. “Please.”
The little butterfly laughed at him. “And you call me pretty. Do you have any idea what
you look like right now?”
“Apoplectic?” Abram snorted. “If you like it, I’ll take your word for it.”
“As you should,” Nathaniel said. Almost primly. Though there was nothing prudish or
proper at all in the way he moved, pushing Abram onto his back and sliding one leg nimbly
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over. He eased himself into place with a small, mewling moan. “I love the way I have to
stretch to do that. I’ll feel it in my thighs tomorrow. So good.”
Abram did know better than to push his luck, but…well. Even as much as he wanted to
lift Nathaniel by the hips and sink deep inside him, he had to be sure. “You tell me again.
Are you sure? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Nathaniel reached for Abram, linking their hands. “Surer than I ever have been about
anything,” he said as he intertwined their fingers. “And positive that I want you to fuck me.”
Abram hissed in a breath. “Good God, the things you say. You are so beautiful.”
Nathaniel’s pupils dilated slightly in the brightening morning light—gilded,
illuminated with the picture window as his frame. Abram could have looked at him forever,
but as he devoured the sight Nathaniel hummed and parted his lips to moisten them. “If you
mean that, then show me.”
In Abram’s opinion, those who had the courage to ask ought to be the first to receive.
Nathaniel was as good at kissing as Abram remembered, his lips soft, the bow of the
top and the velvet fullness of the bottom slipping open on a breath. He shivered when
Abram licked at the separation, instinct and memory and impulse his guides. That light
ripple traveled from lips to the arch of his throat and to the width of his shoulders. Abram
hated to let go of Nathaniel’s hand, but wanted more to follow that path with his mouth. He
traced a heated trail everywhere he could reach, from slim but strong chest to sleek sides, to
the narrowness of Nathaniel’s waist and the angel-wing angles of his collarbones.
“Fuck me,” Nathaniel coaxed, so sweetly. He was already close, so close Abram could
feel the clenching flex of his thigh muscles as he fought it away. His pretty mouth curved in
the most wicked of smiles. “Please, Abram. For me.”
“You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” Abram asked, holding Nathaniel
back for one more look at him, so eager and wanting. “That’s all right. I’ll take you with me.”
Nathaniel nearly purred. He laid his palms flat on Abram’s chest and drew his short
nails lightly down the skin, leaving delicious prickles in his wake. “Deal. But—lie still.”
Curious, Abram watched Nathaniel lean over him, going straight for the bedside
drawer to rummage inside. “I could get that.”
“But I wanted to.” Nathaniel waved a packet of slick at him and tore it open deftly. “Lie
still, I said. Don’t move a muscle until I say so.”
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Abram disobeyed him only so far as raising one eyebrow. Not that he minded
Nathaniel’s faith in him, but humankind hadn’t quite mastered telekinesis yet, and he
couldn’t help wondering how he was meant to put the lube to use without—
Oh.
“You are going to kill me,” he blurted. He clapped his hands to Nathaniel’s thighs,
holding him up as that wicked, naughty, wonderful minx slipped his own slippery fingers
between his legs and moaned. “Twice. Maybe three times.”
“Twice at least,” Nathaniel informed him. He braced one hand on Abram’s chest for
balance as he tilted his head back, his deft hand moving in strokes, his hips rocking gently.
Another moan escaped him, low and sweet. Oh, they were doing this again. Abram could
and would promise him that.
If he didn’t burst his seams from anticipation before then, anyway. His cock ached, hard
and fat and bobbing against his stomach—jerking toward Nathaniel, wanting to be enclosed
in tightness and heat. More so when Nathaniel let out a small cry and shuddered in exquisite
balance. “I have little fingers,” he said, lips parting around the words, breathing in short sips.
“I could put four inside myself and I wouldn’t be as big as you. I want you to fill me up.”
The devil he said! Abram swore under his breath. “Have some pity, Nathaniel! I’m not
joking. You can do that for hours some other time, but if I don’t have you—”
“But you can have me,” Nathaniel said. He eased his fingers free, and knelt up to take
Abram’s hand. “Hold your cock steady for me. Lie still until I say.”
Abram shut his eyes and ground his teeth as Nathaniel sank down on him, taking him
inside. Blinded for the moment, he took Nathaniel’s hands as he had before, making a circle
of their arms that gave Nathaniel something to brace himself on as he slowly came to settle
with his ass flush to Abram’s groin.
“Oh God,” he breathed as their bodies made contact. “I knew you’d feel wider than you
looked.”
And I could only imagine how tight you’d be, but imagination didn’t go quite far enough!
Abram couldn’t say it out loud, but he had the oddest feeling Nathaniel absolutely
understood him. His smile widened, almost drunk with dreaminess.
He exhaled, and took a firmer hold of Abram’s hands. “Move, now,” he said. “Move.
Fuck me, and don’t stop until I come. Until you come. Fuck me hard, and make me yours.”
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“Your wish,” Abram said, driving up with a thrust that made Nathaniel groan. “My
command.”
He’d always liked this position. Enjoyed having someone take control. He’d forgotten
how intoxicating, how addictive the sight of someone taking all the pleasure they could hold
out of riding his cock. God, yes. The way Nathaniel’s thighs trembled as he rose, and the
slick-blunt-hard pressure of his dark-rose cock against Abram’s stomach when he sank
down. A hot glove squeezing him, milking him stroke by stroke, until Abram dizzily
wondered who was fucking who, in that bed.
It didn’t matter. Not in the least. Nathaniel’s breath came fast, small gulps that trailed
off into soft cries, a counterpoint to Abram’s deeper growls. His cock trailed strings of clear,
slippery fluid that it skated through, hard and awkward and maddening.
“Let go,” Abram managed. “Let me get my hand on you.”
Nathaniel laughed. “Don’t need to,” he said, barely out loud, head hanging back and a
dark pink blush spreading from his throat to his chest as Abram watched. “Almost there.
Almost, oh, oh, Abram—”
He curved forward in a tight ‘C’, shoulders mantled as if he would sprout wings. The
quiet cries burst from him all at once in a throaty cascade of sound, and he covered Abram’s
chest with a pool of hot spunk.
Abram shut his mouth with a groan and thrust up. Nathaniel tightened and loosened
around him, a flex and grip that drove him mad—over the edge and down, flooding the
amber-eyed beauty and marking him with the fierceness of his grasp.
But it wasn’t finished. Not yet. Nathaniel whispered words that weren’t quite words, a
slurry-stream of praise and pleading. He reached between them to ease Abram out of him in
a wash of cum and sweat, and dropped to lie atop Abram’s chest. He swept his hair aside
and turned his head, presenting Abram with his neck.
“Please,” he begged, making Abram swallow down a mouthful of hot saliva. “Oh,
please. Do it now.”
The width of Abram’s hand could cover the whole of Nathaniel’s nape. He took as
gentle a hold as he could, turning Nathaniel a half-inch to the left. “You were right,” he said
into the shell of Nathaniel’s ear. “My Nathaniel. My mate. Who’d have thought?”
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Nathaniel was still laughing when Abram set the edge of his teeth to the smooth, pale
skin and bit.
Mate. My mate. My Abram. Mine, now and forever, just as I am yours.
Happy endings always had been Nathaniel’s favorite.
He tucked his head against Abram’s chest, and found him a more than suitable
replacement for any pillow ever dreamed of by man. His skin was warm, tacky with sweat
and smears of cum he hadn’t managed to clean away. Nathaniel didn’t mind. Never would
he complain about this.
He spread his fingers as wide as he could, and still couldn’t span the distance between
Abram’s dark nipples. Instead, he contented himself with carding light patterns in the man’s
chest hair, then tweaking one of those nipples when Abram’s attention veered away.
Abram cuffed him, no more than the barest of love taps, his chest rumbling with
satiation and satisfaction. He stroked Nathaniel’s hair, smoothing it down. “If I told you I
didn’t know what I was doing, would you believe me?”
“I would. Does that surprise you?” It was only true. He’d done this before, but they
weren’t repeating history. They were making it afresh, as their own. Nathaniel raised himself
on one elbow to better look down at Abram’s face. Already beloved. “But as long as you’re
willing to let me figure it out with you, I’ll be fine with a few stumbles while we’re finding
our feet. And we will, you know. You watch and see.”
Abram chuckled again. He took Nathaniel’s head in the cup of his palm, and drew him
down to be kissed then nuzzled contentedly over Nathaniel’s new bite mark. He laid his
fingertips on the edge of Nathaniel’s soulmark, and let Nathaniel do the same with the
decorations on his skin.
Nathaniel laid his head to rest again over Abram’s heart. It might not be easy. He’d
admit that. But oh, it would be worth it. “Trust me,” he said, touching his lips to Abram’s
chin. “We’re going to be amazing.”
“But I don’t have to trust. I know now,” Abram said, drawing the duvet up over them
both. He’d caught his breath, and his body was interested in claiming Nathaniel again—and
again, and again, oh, and again, if Nathaniel had anything to say about it—and he did, now.
“Then tell me,” he coaxed, moving atop Abram. “Tell me once, and take me twice.”
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“You,” Abram said, meeting his gaze. “It’s clear as day, my Nathaniel, and I’ll say it
every time you ask, because it’s true. As I was meant for you, you were meant for me.”
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Epilogue
Two weeks later
Nathaniel perched on the low stone walls that belled out from the coliseum’s stadium
entrance. Behind him, late summer azaleas and marigolds had burst into a rush of home
team color and lushly crisp fragrance, but overhead the skies were grayer and the breeze that
tickled at his skin much cooler than in recent days.
The seasons were turning at last, he decided, eyes closed to enjoy the clean air against
his face. But that was all right. Nothing came to an end. Only to a new beginning.
He knew the shape of the shadow that fell across him then as intimately as his own, and
smiled without looking. “Hello, Abram.”
“Look at you, soaking up the last of the daylight like a little basking lizard,” Abram
said, faux-chidingly. He tapped Nathaniel’s cheek, and when Nathaniel opened his eyes the
burly man showed him a pair of paper tickets. “Nosebleed seats, but I got them.”
Nathaniel tucked flyaway strands of hair behind his ears and crinkled his nose at
Abram. He’d chosen a light heather-gray sweater and dark jeans that fit him as finely as a
caress. He smelled of clean soap and light cedar aftershave. Gorgeous, gorgeous man, and all
Nathaniel’s. “That’s fine. I doubt we’ll actually watch that much of the game, will we? I know
I don’t plan to.”
“Fair point,” Abram conceded. He dropped down to sit next to Nathaniel, a
comfortable and enticing solid wall of warmth that Nathaniel wanted to snuggle into, but—
not just yet. “Your brothers are starting to get restless. Cade in particular. Looks like he has
fire ants in his pants.”
“As he should. I promised him he’d meet my soulmate tonight.” Nathaniel laughed
quietly. So far—deliberately—Cade only thought of Abram as one of Ivan’s friends. A fifth
wheel. The likely look on his face should be worth all the anticipation. “I’m surprised he
hasn’t imploded yet.”
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Abram snorted. “Give him time. I told them I’d come hook you out of dreamland and
back to the rest of the party. If you’re ready. Are you?”
“Hmm. Almost. Give me one more minute to enjoy this.” Nathaniel wrapped his arms
around his knees and cushioned his cheek on them as he turned to watch his brothers, their
friends, and all their mates milling about the coliseum gates. It’d been Abram’s idea to
arrange a group gathering at the last home team game of the season. Everybody in one place
at one time.
They were well-suited as mates. Nathaniel hummed, pleased, and watched his family.
Robbie stood to one side, Ivan with him. At a glance, Robbie seemed to have shed ten
years. He stood taller, more easily, and held his head high. He even smiled. Ivan, too. They
talked as quietly as mice, watched each other with deep affection, and leaned comfortably
against one another.
Ivan’s friends Nick and Barrett were caught up in a mock argument. They’d been in
charge of sorting out rooms for the night, as well as most of the tickets to the game for
everyone else. Born to take charge and to nurture, both of them. Nick’s thick blond hair had
burst free of its ponytail and whipped about his face as he dodged his mate Barrett’s playful
grab. Nathaniel didn’t know them well, but anyone could see the love there. As it should be.
He barely knew Jesse and Daniel at all, but of course family didn’t stop with blood.
Nathaniel watched the quiet soldier and how he leaned on his mate’s arm, content to be there
in his company. He might not be fully healed of his battle scars quite yet, but he was on his
way. He’d get there in the end. They were men of sober disposition, more so than Robbie and
Ivan, but utterly faithful. Abram had promised Nathaniel he would get along well with
them, and Nathaniel figured he’d called that one right.
And there came Cade, roistering with his Dennis. Honestly, if he’d been given a choice,
Nathaniel couldn’t have picked a better partner for his wild brother. Dennis tolerated
precisely zero bullshit, and gave as good as he got. He poked Cade in the stomach when
Cade’s gesticulating grew too wild and laughed when Cade pretended to have the wind
knocked out of him—then looped an arm around Cade’s neck to draw him close for an
affectionate kiss.
So much love. Nathaniel drank it in, basking as he had beneath the sun, and only then
did he slide off the stone wall to stand. He beckoned Abram with a tilt of the head.
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“Showtime at last?” Abram inquired. His broad grin warmed his face and made him
look younger than his years. Nathaniel meant to make sure it would stay like that for many,
many years to come. “How do you want to play this?”
Nathaniel considered the group in front of them. Cade had come to a dead stop, eyes
narrowed as he flicked an assessing stare between himself and Abram. Wouldn’t take him
long. Hmm.
“You could kiss me,” he said, looking up at Abram. “That is, if you’re up for it.”
“God, watch how you say things like that,” Abram said. He raised an eyebrow at their
group of friends. Cade wasn’t the only one watching them now, though he might be the
closest to putting his finger on the button.
Nathaniel laid both hands lightly on Abram’s forearms. “Is that a yes?”
“What do you think? Absolutely yes,” Abram said. Sturdy arms went around Nathaniel
to pluck him off his feet, to lift him high, and to hold him tight to be kissed. Abram’s lips
fitted just so with Nathaniel’s, and the span of his hand fit exactly right with the length of
Nathaniel’s neck, to brace him.
Even while being kissed, Nathaniel could quite easily make out Cade’s massive squawk
of indignation. “Him? Him? I didn’t guess him? Damn it! Wait, that’s not possible. Is it? How
is that possible?”
“Shut up, middle brother,” Robbie rumbled. “Does it matter? Look at them. It’s true.”
Ivan whistled—at least Nathaniel thought it was Ivan—and applauded. “Now it makes
sense,” he said. “That’s the way to do it, Abram, you lucky bastard.”
Abram was, by then, laughing too hard to carry on kissing Nathaniel, but Nathaniel
didn’t mind. He rested his forehead against Abram’s to soak up the warmth of his skin and
the sturdiness of bone, and to taste the salt of his skin.
“Think they got the point?” he asked Nathaniel.
“You could kiss me once more for luck,” Nathaniel suggested, letting his eyes slide
closed as Abram took him up on the offer.
The game would start soon, and the seasons change. But that was all right. As he’d
reminded himself before, nothing ended without making way for a new beginning.
All things were possible. Even those meant to be impossible.
They always had been, all along.
Coming Soon from Totally Bound Publishing:
St. Hawk’s Medical: Take Heart
Willa Okati
Released 2
nd
January 2015
Excerpt
Chapter One
Wednesdays were underrated. Anything could happen on a Wednesday.
Evan dropped the magazine he’d tried—and mostly failed—to keep himself occupied
with, waiting. Dr. Kelly could get behind on his schedule before the day even started, and
he’d learned a long time ago to come to his check-up appointments prepared for a good old-
fashioned campout.
Momentarily distracted, he ticked the list off on his fingers. Sudoku, if he could find a
book with puzzles left undone and a pencil. Snacks if he could get away with them, fresh
sweet almonds or a granola bar with a touch of fresh-ground peanut butter on the top. A
travel mug of herbal tea at the very least, hot and fragrant and sweet with a spoonful of raw
clover honey mixed in.
He’d forgotten to make enough tea to take with him when he’d rolled out of bed that
morning. Shame. Some days started flurried and didn’t let up, but that was all right. Good
things happened to balance them out.
He lifted his head at the cheerful rapping on the door that heralded the arrival of one of
his favorite nurses. Darry, as big and broad as the side of a barn, topped off with a full blond
beard, poked his head in and grinned at Evan. “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget you. Dr. Kelly
called in sick.”
Evan cocked his head to one side, curious. “Doctors can do that?”
“Can and do,” Darry said. “Would you mind if we brought a sub in for the last fifty
yards?”
Once a football player, always a football player. Evan grinned to himself before answering,
“Sure, why not?” He only needed a quick once-over, after all. Regular check-ups weren’t too
much to pay for the gift of a new heart.
“Good man. Hang tight, and we’ll get you sorted out soon.” Darry cocked his head. “By
the way, did you know you have fennel in your hair?”
“I do?”
“Not on purpose, I take it,” Darry said with a rumbling chuckle.
Evan plucked the bit of greenery free, looked at it, shrugged, and tucked it behind his
ear. “I’m starting a new trend.”
“Why not? Stranger things have happened.” Darry gave him an air-five as he saw
himself out.
Evan chuckled quietly once the door had closed. Who needed sudoku? Darry’s antics
kept St. Hawk’s Medical plenty lively. He didn’t mind seeing a replacement doctor, either.
It’d given him something to think about, after all, and interesting beat waiting any time, any
place.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket and fired off a quick text message.
Feel like doing me a favor?
* * * *
“You’re still here? Excellent. Wait. What are you still doing here?”
Brendan splashed a double handful of cool water, soft and smelling faintly of minerals,
on his face before he checked up in the mirror above the sink. He’d felt a shadow fall across
him when he’d had his head down, and only one guy he’d met so far at St. Hawk’s had quite
the same sort of presence. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, tired enough for a hint
of the Hebridean accent he’d had as a boy to slip through and soften his vowels. “Any towels
left on the rack?”
Darry had a grin as wide as a slice of sweet orange, and muscles the size of bowling
balls. Wherever he came from, they must grow their native sons with extra fertilizer and
double-strength sunshine. He tossed Brendan a clean washcloth still in its sterile laundry
wrapping. “I thought you worked second shift yesterday.”
“Ahh, you know how it is. One thing leads to another and in the end it was easier to
crash here for an hour or two.” Brendan gestured in the general direction of the lounge and
its couches, deeper and softer than most of their ilk. Hospitals didn’t often cater for comfort,
but St. Hawk’s Medical Center prided itself on marching to the beat of a different drummer.
“God knows I’ve been there and done that,” Darry said with a yawn and a brisk,
efficient stretch. “As long as you’re not planning to jet in the next half hour, feel like doing
me a solid? I’ll pay you in back rubs. I give a mean massage.”
Brendan couldn’t help shaking his head, amused. “We’ll see about that. What have you
got?”
“Double bookings. I’m wanted down in the pediatric emergency department, but I’ve
been covering Dr. Kelly’s calendar too. Would you mind?”
Brendan didn’t, but… “It’s been a long time since I did my cardiology rotation,” he
warned.
“It’s just follow-up appointments, I checked. Taking vitals and making referrals if need
be, and—”
“Enough, already. You don’t have to sell me on the deal,” Brendan chided, taking the
patient file from Darry and dealing him a light swat on the shoulder. “I—huh.”
“Problem?”
“No, no,” Brendan said. He turned pages with his fingertips. All their charts included a
photo for visual patient ID. “I think I know this one. I’ve seen him around town.”
“Not a problem, then?” Darry asked. He was already raring to go. Brendan knew the
signs.
He waved Darry off, losing himself in the chart again. “I’m fine.” More than, actually.
He might finally get the chance to say more than hello to the quiet beauty from the night of
the festival. That’d go quite a bit further than a splash of water for waking him up.
Familiar faces lifted their chins in greeting as Brendan passed them by on his way to the
exam room. Nurses, doctors, physician’s assistants, midwives, lab technicians, all of them
sporting crisp coats and badges and a sense of purpose. Most of them happy to be there,
even.
Unusual? God, yes, endlessly so.
And fascinating.
Maybe he could—maybe he should—try to learn from that. Figure out how to change
his ways before it was too late. Maybe this would be where he could start.
Exam Room Seven, here we are. Brendan tucked the patient chart under his arm, rapped
his knuckles quickly on the door and let himself in, eager in his curiosity—
And, for once, rewarded.
Waiting for him on the exam table, leaned back as casually and comfortably as if in his
own home, was the answer to his wish. Eyes alight as he, too, recognized Brendan. “I know
you, don’t I? The doctor from the steps.”
“Evan Alders,” Brendan said, pleased. “Nice to have a name for you too, to match to the
face.” And a pretty face it was. Sweet and finely-featured, framed in bronze curls. He wore
small copper rings in both ears, and he’d stuck a sprig of fennel behind his ear the way an
absentminded writer would stow a pen. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been well.” Evan looked honestly pleased to see Brendan. Relaxed and happy, too.
It’d been a long, long time since that’d happened for Brendan. “Are you covering for Dr.
Kelly? A resident came back a few minutes ago and I think she’s already taken care of almost
everything.”
Damn. Had they? A quick flip through the chart showed the proof of Evan’s claim.
Under other circumstances, Brendan would have been grateful. “I’ll just take a quick look.
No troubles to report? Immunosuppressants doing their job?”
Evan patted lightly over the finely healed scar Brendan had caught a glimpse of before.
“No problems. Good as new.”
“Glad to hear it.” Brendan hooked the rolling stool with one foot and pulled it into
place behind him, then unwound the stethoscope from around his neck. “Incoming, and fair
warning—it’s cold. Guard yourself.”
Evan chuckled quietly. “Not my first rodeo. I’ll live.”
Brendan liked the look of Evan up close even better than he had from afar. Bits and
pieces of him invited deeper consideration, which Brendan far preferred to blatant beauty.
Those smile lines at the sides of his eyes, for one. He’d spent more time pleased than angry,
and that was a kind gift for life to have given him. He smelled like honey and herbs, and was
gentle when he nudged Brendan’s knee with the tip of his sandal.
“See? Ticking away like a gold watch.”
“Your surgeon did good work. If I didn’t have your patient chart in hand, I doubt I’d be
able to guess just from looking at you that you’d had a transplant. I wish all patients
recovered so well.” He sat back to check Evan’s ankles for any signs of swelling. “How long
has it been since your surgery?”
“Almost five years. Dr. Kelly says I’ll be good for fifteen to twenty more, for a start.”
Brendan would believe it. Evan’s smooth skin glowed with good health as much as his
open, friendly face did with excellent humor. “Amazing,” he murmured under his breath.
He’d seen far too many patients in worse condition for infinitely less worthy reasons.
“Honestly, I think there must be something in the water around here. You should bottle it.
You’d make a fortune.”
Evan laughed. “Nah. I don’t need a fortune. I’ve got just about everything I could want.
It’s a good town for that. Lots of live and let live, a really good farmer’s market, and then
there’s all the walking trails I could ever want.”
The firm springiness of his calf muscles told its own tale. Brendan would bet he walked
five miles or more on a regular basis. A wisp of daydream floated across his mind—an image
of Evan fresh from a ramble, skin honey-warm from the sun, hair clinging to the back of his
neck with clean sweat, and smiling. He’d rarely met anyone who seemed so contented with
their life. Brendan let go of his leg and turned to make a note in the chart. “And here my first
guess would have been yoga.”
“I just like the pants.” Evan flexed his ankle. “I never sit still if I don’t have to. Life is too
short to waste by lazing around, don’t you think?”
“I do,” Brendan said, hands falling still as he looked up at the man. He had a fine, full
fan of lashes as dark as soot that turned his plain hazel eyes into something amazing when
he looked at a man that way. “Very much, I do.”
Evan beamed at him, warm as the dawn, and— Well. Why not?
“Come for a walk with me?” Brendan asked, the words slipping in a rush over his
tongue and past his lips. “Will you?”
Uh-oh, Evan thought.
“That didn’t come out quite right.” Brendan made a rueful face, nose crinkled, smile
unpracticed but genuine. His hands were warm, and gentle, and his manner suddenly
hesitant. Less professional, more personal, not crossing any lines, but rich with hope—and he
hadn’t seen it coming. “I’m overdue for a break, and I’d like to get to know you better. May
I?”
When Griff heard about this, he’d tease for weeks. “Brendan, I need to tell you—”
A brief staccato rap sounded on the door half a second before the knob turned.
“Tea boy,” Griff announced himself as he jostled the door open with one hip and
stepped inside, juggling two tall paper cups that gave off the rich scent of jasmine and pekoe.
“Hotter than hell and twice as sweet as the sins that’d send you there.” He tossed his head to
settle his long, dark-russet braid neatly down the middle of his back, away from the spiky
tribal tattoos that curled around the nape of his neck, and flashed Evan one of the devil-may-
care winks that’d made him fall in love with the man, way back when.
The kind of smile Evan couldn’t help returning, and meaning with all his patchwork
heart.
Even when Griff had a shit-eating grin the size of Texas dawning on his lips. Let no
man call him slow on the draw. He saw the situation and comprehended it fully in point-five
seconds as he passed the tea off to Evan. “Oh, babe. Caught another one, did you?”
“Not on purpose!” Evan said.
“Uh-huh. Accident, then. You need a keeper, darlin’.” Griff didn’t so much offer his
hand as take Brendan’s without asking. Callused and dry and strong, he had the sort of
greeting shake that Evan saw made Brendan’s fingers automatically close around his without
second-guessing. He saw, too, how the cheeky twinkle ever present in Griff’s eye, like the
points of light in a glass of good brandy, invited the world at large and Brendan as well to
come and play. “My name should be on his paperwork as next of kin, but everyone who
knows me calls me Griff. You are?”
“Brendan,” Evan said with an internal hands-up of surrender because that was mostly
the only way to roll during times of trial. “This is Jack Griffiths. My partner.”
“That I am, by the grace of God,” Griff said, settling himself into a comfortable lean on
the exam table. He cocked his head to get a better gander at the new doc. “I’ve seen you
around, haven’t I?”
“I…” The doctor—Brendan, was it?—gave his head a good sharp shake and blinked
twice, like a man coming awake without much warning. Griff guessed he must have thrown
the guy for a good and proper loop-de-loop. He saw it now, that indefinable something
that’d made Evan peg him right away as lonely. Lonely and proud and stubborn. Huh. Damn
shame.
On the other hand, the man did have a good face. A kind mouth.
“On Main Street. You were leading that gang with the fireworks,” Brendan said, lifting
his chin in a way that underlined Griff’s first impression of stubborn. He had the faintest hint
of an accent that only came out now, with a roll of ‘R’ across his tongue. “I ended up with
your hat. I’d have brought it back if I hadn’t been on duty.”
“Is that what happened to it? Damn,” Griff said with a pang of regret. Took months to
get a Stetson worn in just right.
A grin cracked the grim stoicism of Brendan’s face, and did all kinds of wonders for the
looks of him. Made him seem younger, more approachable, downright human, and like a
human Griff thought he might like to get to know.
“Don’t worry. I saved the hat. As far as I know it’s on a shelf in the back of the lost and
found closet. I’ll bring it down for you later, if you’d like.” He cleared his throat. Faint hints
of red crossed his cheeks. “Look, before this gets awkward I’ll go ahead and say I’m sorry. If
I’d known you were together, I wouldn’t have trespassed.”
Evan tucked the corners of his mouth in something between sympathy and a frown. He
had a heart as big as the great outdoors. Almost as much heart as Griff had mouth. “No,
don’t do that. How were you to know?”
“Hell, it’s not a problem,” Griff said. He rested one hand at the small of Evan’s back and
grinned at the good doctor. He couldn’t go for long without teasing Evan, or anyone else for
that matter. God must have been in a puckish mood the day he’d set his mind to creating
him. “It’s happened before. He’s bad at figuring out when people are interested. I damn near
had to tackle him and sit on his face before he put the pieces together.”
“True,” Evan said, patting the back of Griff’s head in his affectionate way. “But I’m only
bad at telling when people are interested in me, while you’re an all around hell-raiser with
no manners, so that makes us just about even.”
“Blackjack, no take back,” Griff fired off with a crinkle of his nose. He returned his full
interest to Brendan, studying him from stem to stern before making up his mind in the
confidence that Evan would back his play. “Now, he’s going to tell me to apologize for
yanking your chain, so I’ll go ahead and get that out of the way. Forgive and forget?”
He could tell Brendan’s nature made him want to resist, but that he had enough
gumption to push past that first instinct. Griff liked that. Liked it just fine.
“Don’t mention it,” the doc said, polite as could be. Drawing back, putting a safe
distance between them. It didn’t suit him. “It’s in the past, now.”
Evan nudged his shoulder against Griff’s. Pleased with him, Griff thought, which
spurred him on. “I’ll tell you what, though. You’re new around here, yeah? Not had a chance
to get out and find your feet yet? Trust me, after a few years with this one and all his time in
and out of St. Hawk’s Medical, I know doctors. Too busy to tie your shoes most days, and
hell, it’s not easy for anyone, starting off alone.”
Brendan frowned again, a hair deeper this time, but he didn’t interrupt. Good.
Griff spread his hands open—there you go. “Friday night,” he said. “Mark it on your day
planner, Doc. Seven p.m.”
Evan picked right up on Griff’s train of thought. Good man. “Barbecue?” he asked Griff.
“Too cold out. Better to range out,” Griff replied. “Chicken or steak?”
“Both,” Evan said. “Or neither. I’m thinking Cajun. Palomino?”
Griff brought his hands together in a sharp clap. “That’ll do.”
Meanwhile, Brendan’s eyebrows had shot toward his hairline. “What—? Come again?”
Griff manfully bit down on the joke that wanted to pop out. If Brendan could behave, so
could he. “Friday night. There’s a good place up on the hilltop, and we like company. You’re
either coming with us, or meeting us there.” Bless his heart, he looked so flummoxed by the
mere notion it only made Griff want to do this all the more. “Peace offering, and I won’t hear
‘no’ as an answer.”
Beside him, one of Evan’s sweet smiles curved his lips. “Please.”
Griff’s own grin went wide. When Evan pulled out that particular big gun, it’d take a
harder man than either of them to say no. Call it a done deal already.
And so it was.
About the Author
Willa Okati can most often be found muttering to herself over a keyboard, plugged
into her iPod and breaking between paragraphs to play air drums. In her spare time
(the odd ten minutes or so per day she’s not writing) she’s teaching herself to play the
penny whistle.
Willa has forty-plus separate tattoos and yearns for a full body suit of ink. She walks
around in a haze of story ideas, dreaming of tales yet to be told. She drinks an
alarming amount of coffee for someone generally perceived to be mellow.
Willa loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and
author biography at
Also by Willa Okati
Totally Bound Publishing
Document Outline
- Willa Okati can most often be found muttering to herself over a keyboard, plugged into her iPod and breaking between paragraphs to play air drums. In her spare time (the odd ten minutes or so per day she’s not writing) she’s teaching herself to play t...
- Willa has forty-plus separate tattoos and yearns for a full body suit of ink. She walks around in a haze of story ideas, dreaming of tales yet to be told. She drinks an alarming amount of coffee for someone generally perceived to be mellow.
- Email: willaokati@gmail.com
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