After a minute, he hands the phone back. “You said you’re going to call Sheena? Are you going to tell her where we are? Can you trust her?”
“Of course. She’s an Amazon.”
He crosses his arms, fingers tapping on skin, a hank of hair flopping down over his brow. “I never met any supe who wouldn’t sell you out for the right money.”
So much bitterness. He might be young, but he’s not naïve. His messy hair makes me self-conscious about mine, and I run a hand over the top of my head. Maybe I’m escaping to call Sheena, or maybe I’m unsettled by my response to a man I shouldn’t get involved with, who seems to have a target on his back, who’s seen my Mickey Mouse shirt and lived to tell about it.
“If an Amazon swears loyalty, they don’t falter, and Sheena and I go back a long way.” We’d been taking turns saving each other’s asses since I was a card shark and she was running gin.
The noise of the television is muffled in the dining room. There’s a table long enough for twelve large chairs, and the windows look uphill toward Griffith Observatory. I talk to Sheena, but my mind is on the young man in the other room. He’s cheering for someone named Darius, and I’m curious to see what kind of man he’s attracted to. Probably not an oversized Italian with unnaturally pale skin.
Sheena promises to arrive in the morning, and I give myself a moment before facing David. I need to keep him safe, which means I need more to work with than some bullshit about family drama. The guy came on a spring break vacation by himself, which all of a sudden feels like a big red flag. For all his talk about getting laid, I have to wonder if he’s got some hidden agenda.
And I won’t accomplish anything if my dick is hard.
So I fan my spark of curiosity to take my mind off the heat building in my balls. For a moment, the ghost of Connor stands in front of the window, joking with Jacques about the stories these walls could tell. Connor and Jacques had hit it off from the beginning, and a spike of remembered jealousy drags me down.
I don’t like David. I’m just responding to physical cues because it’s been so long since…
Admit it, man. So long since you had sex.
I’d have to be truly dead not to respond to his hints. Still, it doesn’t matter. I can keep this professional. My goal is to get information out of David Collins. Nothing more.
Back in the main room, he’s curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow. “Look”—he gestures at the screen—“Darius is leading.”
Damned if Darius isn’t a fair-skinned Italian-looking guy. “How much longer will this show last?”
“It’s almost over, but I got it off Netflix, so there are six more episodes in the season.” He punches the pillow. “Not like we got all that much to do.”
“Except stay alive long enough to figure out who’s trying to get to you.” I perch on the edge of the couch, gingerly, because I can’t trust myself to get too close to him. I have questions, and while I can persuade an ordinary human to answer truthfully with a little nudge of my mind, David is anything but ordinary.
“I told you. It’s my dad or my uncle or one of their hoo-rah lieutenants.”
“But what if it’s not?”
He flaps a limp-wristed hand, giving me the full nelly. “It is.” With a heavy sigh, he wiggles around till he’s sitting. “How much do you know about Were politics?”
“Not much.” I dare to ease back against the leather cushions. “It’s like vamp politics, but with more body heat?”
David gives me a sly smile. “I like body heat. Do you like body heat?”
Before I can answer, he’s coming for me, crawling up the couch. I put up a hand to stop him, but he laces his fingers through mine. “Is this okay?” he whispers.
I don’t respond, but I don’t push him away either. Over the last 175 years, I’ve tried just about everything, in every combination. Past and future fade in response to the heat of his now.
“I’m about to graduate,” he says, “and that means it’s time for me to get sucked into the machine.” He draws my hand closer, till my knuckles are brushing against his chest. “I’ll go to work for my dad, and I’ll move on up the ranks.” His grip on my hand is hot, but he hasn’t grown fur yet. “He’s the American capital-A Alpha, but he’s also the small-a alpha of the Collins Pack. He says if I can take care of the family pack, he’ll have more focus for national issues. That scares some people, because I’m flamboyant and I honestly don’t give a fuck. There’s not a wolf out there who can take mine in a fight, and there’s not a man in the pack who wants a queer in charge.”
I believe every word he says. “We can cross your father off the list, then. If he wants you to take over, he can’t be trying to kill you.”
His shrug doesn’t have much confidence. “It might be his way of testing me, of making me prove to them all that I’m up to the role.”
Talk about your tough love. I chew on that for a while. “But do you even want to take over?”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep my family safe.” His conviction shines through, straightening his shoulders and raising his chin. “My mother, my sister, my cousins Marcus and Ben, they’re my posse. If they need me to step up, I will.”
“Why a solo trip to LA, then? Why leave your posse at home?”
“Because.” He tugs on my hand, using it for leverage to climb up over my thighs. He smells good, like wolf and sandalwood and man. “This is my last chance, Guido. In Seattle, I’m the Alpha’s son. Everyone knows it, and my life is planned down to how many shots of espresso I can order from Starbucks.” He’s hypnotizing me with his warmth and the sound of his voice.
“For this trip,” he goes on, “I bleached my hair and bought tints for my eyes, and I want a man in every orifice by the time I’m through.”
When his lips meet mine, I don’t try to stop him. I can’t. Connor was so long ago, and David is here and now.
He kisses me fiercely, as if someone’s going to lob a bomb through the window any second. He tastes good, surprisingly sweet, with an undertow of cigarettes and wildness. I want more of that. More of him. We can talk later. I fold his strong, wiry body in my arms and lift, carrying him upstairs to the safe room.
“I’m not a damsel in distress.” David nuzzles at my neck. My body is heating up, my breath coming short. All my hungers are clamoring.
We cross the threshold. The room is geared toward vampires, so there are no windows. I don’t turn on the light. Don’t need it. My vision works fine, along with my sense of smell. I have no trouble finding his hard body.
“Imma fuck a vampire.” He sings the words, turns them into a chant. I know he’s teasing, and I know we don’t mean anything to each other, but it still makes me pause.
“What?” he asks.
I dump him roughly on the bed.
“Hey! What the fuck?” He scrambles up onto his hands and knees. “Why you mad, Tony?” He gets ahold of my shirt and crawls up Mickey, then flicks my chin with his tongue.