Excerpt
Despite his nightly fantasies and imaginings of whispered words, Killian didn't expect to speak to the crazy shape-shifter again—ever. See, yes, they did share the same city and their paths did cross from time to time. Mostly they avoided each other, his family and theirs, having their separate interests and purposefully keeping them separate. Hostility was the only possible outcome of inadvertent meetings, and in the dark, hostility could lead to worse things.
When the house phone rang Killian always checked the call display, refusing to speak to people he didn't want to—family, mostly. Usually they called to forward their latest scheme, unless it was his mother. She called to forward her plans regarding her latest hand-picked Lycan woman. It was her opinion that he'd stalled long enough and it was time to mate with the chosen female and propagate the species. Mate was the word too. It wasn't like he was allowed to have an opinion, just a ready and able penis. The phone number flashing on the display made him forget all annoyance with pestering mothers.
C. Décarie. It had only been a day or two since he quit mouthing What the hell? all the time and now he was right back at it, instantly, and out loud too. The phone almost switched to the answering machine before he snatched up the receiver and sputtered, "What?"
"Killian?"
Just one word and he was breathing harder. "Yeah?"
"It's Colton Décarie."
"I know."
"Can we meet somewhere?"
His cock agreed first. Yes, absolutely, it said. Surely the boy wasn't considering his impossible condition? Soundlessly, he gulped in a needed mouthful of air. All his blood, and therefore oxygen, was rushing downward real fast. "Where'd you have in mind?" Come here and come alone, he silently wished.
"I was thinking the park. Downtown, at the lake."
Damn. Could you get more public than that? Guess the shifter wasn't considering his proviso after all. Masterfully, he schooled his voice to his I-could-care-less mode. "When?"
"Tonight?"
My, my, someone was in a hurry. "I guess. What time?"
"Late. Midnight?"
"But then it would be tomorrow and not tonight."
A puff of annoyed breath crackled his way. "Are you coming or not?"
Not very patient, either. "I'll be there. Where exactly?"
"Under the willows. It's private."
"What? Don't want to be seen with me?"
"No. Not really. Hurt?"
"Not at all. I'll come."
The phone went dead without so much as a goodbye, making Killian smile. Snappy and impatient? Maybe Blondie was considering certain…exchanges?
The hours crawled by, painfully slowly, just about killing him. His curiosity was burning him up. It was like waiting for Christmas Day and a hoped for, but not really expected, present under the tree. At 11:30 p.m. he locked his door and made for the park, speeding recklessly and fearing another ticket—sooner or later they'd land him in jail if he didn't cool it.
It was very warm. Killian loved summertime. Evidently humans loved it too, since there were quite a few of them strolling about the brightly lit walkway. The water shimmered softly with the reflection of streetlamp and bright moon shine. Fearless, he crossed the bridge and made for the willows at the water's edge. Lurking bad guys would be wise to watch out for him; the moon was out. Not that there would be any left for him; Colton would have cleared them out already.
Speaking of Colton, he was here. Killian caught his scent quickly and felt his power vibrating. The ground at the edge of the lapping lake was squishy and rank, but solid and oddly fragrant under the massive willows. Colton's scent drove him forward and mapped his way to where Killian found him sitting on a purloined picnic table parked next to the massive tree trunk. Enough light filtered under the wispy branches to identify the man's face and features cast into sharp relief by shadow. In the shadows he looked more handsome and less pretty.
"You came," Colton said.
"I said I would."
When Colton flung himself off the table like a teenager, Killian took his spot, slightly warmed. The shifter's pacing said a thousand words his voice could not.
"What did you want, Blondie?"
Stopping abruptly, Colton faced him, not liking the insulting nickname. It might be dark, but defiance had its own light. "I wondered if you reconsidered your ridiculous demand."
"Not one bit."
Arm swinging replaced the pacing. "How could you ask that? How? It's sick!"
"What part? The fact that I'm a Lycanthrope and you're a Therianthrope and therefore my mortal enemy? Or the fact you know I want you on your knees serving me?" Smiling to himself, Killian went on as ruthless as before. "Or is it the fact I'm a man?"
It required further grinning when he realized he'd rendered the shifter speechless.
"Well? You were all talkative a second ago—"
"All three," Colton complained. "And the first two much more so than the last."
Ah, good God! Killian closed his eyes for a second. What did I do to deserve such a blessing? Is it because I've never killed anyone despite the blood-borne desire to want to?
"Do you have any idea how impossible that would be for me? To have you touch me?"
"I've already touched you."
"And it burned!"
Killian flicked his eyes open. He'd forgotten that completely. Shifters suffered. They suffered a lot. During growth spurts until they reached manhood, they had to endure fierce burning in their bones for days at a time and then to shift—that burned too. More pain. But the worst part, in his estimation, was the whole sex thing. Almost made you feel sorry for the pathetic creatures. That hurt too. Sexual desires and sensing werewolves hurt roughly equally, one confused with the other, but that was only until they were grown and got control of their emotions and their abilities. Was it because Colton was gifted? There was no reason his touch should hurt. "Why did my touch hurt you, Blondie?"
"Why do you think?" he snarled.
"I don't know. You're all grown up—I should think you'd be over that by now."
Clenching his hands into fists, Colton glared at him. In the dark he looked much more like the demonic thing he was. "You're still a werewolf!"
Killian shuddered. "Why don't you say that a bit louder, Blondie? There might be one or two humans left in the park who didn't hear you."
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "See? This is pointless."
"Do I really smell that bad?"
"Yes!" he hissed. "Your blood does, it calls to me, calls to my blood, makes me want to…" He shrugged and left the rest unsaid. "Your body smells…slightly better."
"Hmm." Perhaps it was an insurmountable problem. Or was it just a question of familiarity? "Maybe you just need to get used to me."
Colton gave him a dirty look for his suggestion.
"Come stand closer."
"No, thank you."
"Like sucking in flames, is it? Burning gasoline? Rotting meat? All three?"
"Yes! Almost the same. I've been around your kind enough that it's not that bad anymore. But you still make me want to shift. I long to shift."
"Get over it."
"I can't! I've tried. God knows, I've tried."
The desperation in his voice was pure. It had something to do with the whole suicide-by-werewolf thing, but Killian knew this was one subject not to broach; it wasn't a pushable button right now. Nimble also, he launched himself off the table, and Colton's reflexes instantly reacted, sending him into a defensive posture. "Relax, shifter," he cautioned. "You're going to have to relax."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to touch you."
"No, you're not!"
"I am. You just need to get used to me, as I said." Tentatively, he took a small step forward. Colton's nostrils flared. "Relax. Stop breathing so hard. Slow down."
"I hate you! Why can't you just kill me like a decent werewolf?"
It was an absurd statement, and he laughed. "I'm not decent. In fact, the things I want to do to you are all indecent. You give me what I want and I'll consider giving you what you want."
"That's such a crappy argument, you know. You'll consider it? How about I give you what you want and you give me what I want?"
"Nope. You're asking for so much more than I am. It's not a fair deal and us Frosts really hate to get taken of advantage of." Less tentative this time, he moved closer. "Now stop stalling and come here."
"I don't want to."
"I know. That's the best part."
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