Bloodlines (4 page)

“Besides,” he murmured, brushing some of Redford’s hair out of his face, grinning slow as he wrapped his arms around Redford’s waist, “I get to see you be all commanding and in charge. I think I like that idea.”

Redford gave a huff of a laugh. “I’m not sure that’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I’m not very good at that. But when we’re finished with this job, we’ll have more money to spend on fishing. We could add another week or two to the plan?”

Jed made a pleased sounding hum, nuzzling his nose against Redford’s. “We’ll practice the commanding thing,” he assured Redford, swaying a bit, like they were dancing together to unheard music. “Lots and lots of practice. We might not be able to leave the bed for days, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He laughed as he leaned in for a kiss. “It’s just a couple of days, and then we get to take off. Easy job, in and out, and then it’s nothing but you and me and the water.”

Jed

S
O
,
FAMILY
dinners. Not exactly Jed’s forte. He’d kind of spent a great many years avoiding them, matter of fact, and now here he was, speeding down the highway toward one that would be populated with wolves and a prissy professor. Some days, he really had to take a step back and look hard at how fucking
weird
his life had gotten.

“I really do think we should have brought something,” Redford fussed from the passenger seat, beautiful face crumpled into a frown. He pushed his hair back, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, obviously worried, and not just about their lack of a hostess gift. “The etiquette books my grandmother had said you should never show up empty-handed.”

Redford was wearing a dress shirt. It had buttons and a collar, and it was officially the most dressed up Jed had seen Redford in months. Frankly, Jed wasn’t sure where Redford had
found
the damn thing. Or when he’d found time to iron Jed’s jeans. Who ironed jeans? Wolves who were fretting over leading their first job, that’s who. He’d agonized over clothes, over how he should stand, and Jed could tell he was just looking to be worth the trust people were placing in him. Jed thought it was kind of silly, really. Like Redford was ever anything other than
worthy
.

“We’re not going for social calls, Red,” Jed pointed out, taking their exit and heading into the countryside. “Trust me, Miss Manners did not anticipate this particular scenario.” He gave Redford a reassuring little smirk, reaching over to find the other man’s hand. “Two mercenaries showing up for dinner isn’t exactly covered in polite society.”

Huffing out a little sigh, Redford allowed, “Maybe.” But his hand tightened on Jed’s, and that simple gesture was all Jed needed to know that everything was right with the whole damn world. Their fingers threaded together, resting on Jed’s knee as he started watching for street signs to find their next turn. “I just want to make a good impression. They’re trusting me with a very important job.”

“Nobody alive would meet you and think anything but that you’re amazing,” Jed told him stubbornly, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. Victor was seated in the backseat, wearing another one of those ridiculous sweater vests. Seriously, did the guy get them on sale? In bulk? Was his mother the secret heiress to a sweater vest factory? “Ain’t that right, princess?”

“Undoubtedly,” Victor replied drolly, taking off his glasses to clean them. He continued, more genuinely, “Try not to fret too much, Redford. Unless you do something truly alarming, I’m sure they’ll be quite happy with you.”

Redford just looked even more worried. His episodes of doing “truly alarming” shit because of his instincts gone wild were less frequent now, but they still happened. The other morning, Jed had been completely unable to leave the bed for two hours after he woke up, because Redford had been feeling a bit too overprotective and growly. Not that Jed minded staying in bed half the day, but the idea that Redford had been so convinced Jed stepping outside would lead to his instant death hadn’t exactly been the grounds for the best mood in the world.

Slumping back in his seat, Redford carefully hooked a light grip in Jed’s sleeve. “They’re wolves,” he murmured. “I’ve never really… you know,
socialized
with wolves.”

Turning to look at Redford, cutting glances back at the road to make sure they were still on it and not about to hurtle into a tree, Jed reached up to cup Redford’s cheek. “They’re wolves,” he repeated calmly. “If anyone’s going to get Chuckles and Mr. Bitey Pants, it’s them, right? Besides”—Jed grinned then, turning back to his driving before Victor had a heart attack—“who the fuck cares? They’re clients, Red. Remember? In, out, and then we’re on to the beach.”

Simple.

Redford gave him a mystified look. “Who are Chuckles and Mr. Bitey Pants?” He twisted in his seat to glance at Victor, as if he might have brought some uninvited guests along.

Jed just waved his hand in dismissal. “You know. Chuckles is when you decide that chasing the mailman is the height of fun, and Mr. Bitey Pants is when you pin me down and—”

“That’s quite enough information, Journey, if you please.” Jed could practically
feel
the British Beams of Disapproving Prudeness hitting the back of his head from Victor. “As Jed said, Redford, they are indeed like you. Not exactly, of course, but they will understand your, ah,
situation
much better than the average human.” A beat and he added mildly, “No offense intended, of course.” It took Jed a moment to realize he’d been insulted. Then again, he wasn’t exactly sure when
human
had turned into something nobody wanted to be. Victor went on, a bit more upbeat, “They may even be able to help you.”

“Really?” Redford sounded surprised, like he hadn’t thought of that. “I guess. Jed’s been helping me a lot, though, as much as anybody possibly can.” He gave Jed a fond look. “And I’m still seeing Dr. Alona. Even if Jed doesn’t like my head being shrunk.” Another amused look in Jed’s direction. Jed just huffed a neutral little noise. He hadn’t decided yet if he trusted the shrink. “I think he’s human, isn’t he?”

“Ah, well, that’s up for debate,” Victor replied dryly. “I don’t know the man personally, so I couldn’t say for sure.”

Redford appeared to be considering this. He got a little crease between his eyebrows when he was going over something in his mind, and Jed cursed the fact he was stuck being a responsible driver and couldn’t lean over to kiss it away. “He pretty much smells human,” Redford decided. “I think. Even if he’s a bit weird about the name Rufus and has three different animals named that.”

Victor tilted his head in interest. “Out of curiosity, what do
I
smell like? I’ve never been told.”

“Kind of like what I imagine a snake smells like.” Redford inhaled. “It’s all… scaly? I don’t know how to describe that very well.”

Heh. “Told you your mom was a snake fucker,” Jed said with a smirk, ignoring Victor’s irritated grumble. “Now do me, Fido. What do my manly, human genes smell like?” This could be a fun party game! Kind of like reading palms, only way more prejudiced against bad BO.

“I’ve never told you?” Redford lifted his eyebrows in surprise, leaning across to rest his cheek on Jed’s shoulder. “You smell like pine forests and gunpowder. I like it.”

Lips creasing upward slightly, Jed turned to press a kiss to the top of Redford’s hair. “And manliness,” he prompted. “Pine, gunpowder, and pure, distilled manliness.”

“Yes, that too,” Redford added. “Beer, sweat, and gasoline. Pure manliness.”

“Damn straight.” Jed was smiling, his hand stealing over to find Redford’s again. This was so fucking good. Just this, just the two of them. And yeah, okay, so his life was weird. His life also included moments like this, with the two of them in the car—and Victor, apparently, in the backseat, but hence the aforementioned weirdness—and Jed wasn’t about to trade it for anything more normal. Normal didn’t have Redford in it. Normal could go fuck itself twice.

“I don’t suppose
I
smell like manliness,” Victor mumbled half to himself, staring out the window. Jed snorted out a laugh, rewarded by the faint smile touching Victor’s lips, the soft crinkle that looked like genuine amusement. What did you know. The princess could crack a joke. At his own expense, even!

“Do tea and books count?” Redford teased lightly. “Those, I think, are very masculine things. David seemed to like them.”

And just like that, the moment broke. The almost smile faded from Victor, Jed’s shoulders tightening, and Redford looked utterly crestfallen at his mistaken mention. They didn’t talk about David, he and Redford. Three months since Cairo and Jed hadn’t found a good time to do so. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think about it too much. A guy he’d almost trusted, a guy who’d gotten as close to Jed as people got, before Redford, and he’d turned out to be… well. Not a regular guy at all.

Yeah. They didn’t talk about David. Victor, Jed assumed, didn’t talk about him for his own set of issues. The same issues that had him showing up yesterday looking like a poster boy for one-night fuck aftermaths.

“Sorry,” Redford said guiltily. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, suddenly looking exhausted. “It’s fine,” he said lowly. “Just because things ended between David and I doesn’t mean you can’t mention him ever again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jed said, wrapping his arm around Redford and hauling him in close. He could drive just fine one-handed. “It’s just David. And, for whatever reason, he did get off on tea, books, and nerds. No point in pretending he didn’t exist.”

Not that he wanted to continue that line of conversation, but hell if he was going to let Redford feel bad over it. “Can anyone read these fucking directions?” Jed said, promptly changing the topic, scowling at the slip of paper. “For a giant fucking dweeb, that Randall kid has drunk monkey handwriting.”

“Or doctor’s handwriting,” Victor agreed. “Here, let me look at them.” He reached forward to take the directions and turned the paper around. “It may help if you read it the right way up, for starters.”

Jed just beamed him a wide, shit-eating grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re the only one here who can read nerd. Seriously, I think he just threw that paper in a coop and let them go wild.”

“It really is just regular handwriting, Jed,” Victor corrected, sounding bored. “Right, you’re going to want to turn after the upcoming lake. There will be a dirt road to your left, and we’ll be on that for….” He paused, trailing off as he studied the rest of the writing. “Goodness. Ten miles? Randall wasn’t lying. This is certainly out of the way.”

“I think I saw a horror film that started like this,” Jed pointed out darkly. “Good shit never happens this far from a bar.”

Redford looked like he wasn’t sure if he should be wary. Maybe Jed should stop showing him movies—he’d tried to explain to Redford that movie situations and real-life situations differed greatly, but Redford never quite seemed to grasp that. It wasn’t lack of common sense, Jed knew, it was just from growing up with no socialization and a hell of a lot of books. Redford, Jed was pretty damn sure, was half expecting fairies to come back to life when he clapped. Or at least he had enough faith to think it was possible. Jed, however, wouldn’t believe in Santa if the fat guy built him a chimney, climbed down it, and then gave him a lap dance.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Victor dismissed, leaning his head against the glass to peer up at the trees as they turned down the dirt road into the forest. “I think it’s quite lovely. Very private. I’m sure that the location helped the Lewises immensely, considering.”

“Considering they like to go furry and chomp on cute woodland creatures?” Jed snorted quietly, concentrating on driving slow enough so that they weren’t all bounced around like breasts at a rodeo. “Yeah, I’m guessing they don’t want to be cramped up in a high-rise.”

Redford made an affirmative noise. “With them being the kind of wolves they are, it’d be nice for them to have a lot of forest that they can run around in.” He hesitated, frowning a little. “Not that I could do something like that. I’m still not really in control.”

“Well, that would be even better for you,” Victor pointed out. “If you lost control here, there’s not exactly any neighbors you could traumatize.”

Jed had never been much of a dog person. His parents had one, back when he was a kid, but he’d never
bonded
with it. Had never seen the point of running around outside chasing a stick or whatever. Jed liked cats. He liked how little they demanded, how Knievel would go from desperate for affection to barely remembering he existed in a swing of her tail. When Jed had felt the need to
run
, it hadn’t been through the goddamn woods. It’d been a new life, a bigger city. It’d been forgetting who he was and hiding in the masses.

When Jed thought of freedom, it was in the way he could sleep ’til noon whenever he fucking wanted. How he’d never, not once, had another lima bean since he’d sat all night staring at his plate, refusing to touch his mother’s cooking. How he could take the jobs he wanted, leave the ones he didn’t. How he had money in the bank and the man he loved next to him and nobody said fuck all about either. Or if they did, Jed didn’t have to stay and listen.