Tales of the Otherworld (26 page)

I twisted and leapt out of his way. He followed. I backed up…and hit the wall. He gave another chuckling growl and took a slow step forward, stopping close enough for me to smell the cookies and chocolate on his breath.

“Clay …”

“Hmm?”

“I want to stay the night.”

He tilted his head. Then his lips curved in a slow grin that licked fresh heat through me.

“You sure?” he murmured.

“Very.”

A flash of a grin, then he leapt, grabbing me around the waist and whirling me around. His mouth went to mine and we crashed over the ottoman, hitting the floor hard, still kissing. I seized the sides of his shirt and yanked. He lifted his hands and wriggled out as I pulled. Then he grabbed the back of my shirt. When it caught, twisted around my torso, he wrenched, and the fabric ripped. He froze.

“I’ll slow down.”

My fingers slid to his waistband and I popped the button on his jeans. “I don’t want you to slow down.”

A sharp intake of breath. He grabbed for my shirt again, then stopped, tensed, as if holding himself back. “I’ll be careful.”

I looked him in the eyes. “I don’t want you to be careful.”

When he hesitated, I lifted my mouth to his. Only a split-second pause, then with a growl, he pulled me to him in a crushing kiss, mouth hard and insistent, hands ripping away the rest of my shirt. Our pants followed, off so fast I didn’t even notice until I felt his bare legs against mine. Underwear followed, just as quickly.

I felt him between my legs and my brain fogged. I wriggled into position, felt the tip of him brush me, closed my eyes, held my breath, and—

“Are you sure?”

My eyes flew open. His face was over mine, so close I could see only his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he said again, words coming in raspy gasps.

I pressed my lips to his and arched my hips up, pushing against him, feeling him slide into me. A moment’s…something, maybe pain, though my brain refused to interpret it as such. He threw back his head and inhaled sharply.

Then his head whipped forward, lips slamming into mine, kissing me hard. Only a few thrusts, and my nails were digging into his shoulders as the waves of climax rocked through me. I heard him growl deep in his throat, the sound hard and dangerous, and I gasped as he shuddered, arms tightening around me.

A moment later, he looked down at me. “It’s supposed to last longer than that, isn’t it?”

“How would I know?”

We collapsed into a fit of laughter, limbs still entwined. Then he rolled over, pulling me on top of him.

“So was that my gift?” he asked.

My cheeks heated. “Uh, no. Of course not. I just thought …”

He grinned. “It
was
my gift, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said. “And you only get it on special occasions. Valentine’s
Day is next. Maybe Groundhog Day, but I’m not making any promises.”

He laughed and tugged me down in a kiss. Then, lips still close enough to feel them tickle mine, he said, “You know this is it for me, right?
You’re
it. First and last.”

I looked up and met his gaze. “Same for me. First and last.”

I
ARRIVED AT STONEHAVEN EARLY ON THE
twenty-seventh. I sailed through those first few days, riding the high from my Christmas with Elena, finally reassured that we were heading in the same direction. Christmas Eve had proven that. Sex might mean little to Nick and the rest of the Pack, but to me it signified a life commitment, and I knew it was the same for Elena. One lover, one partner, one mate for life; that’s how we were made.

For three days, I coasted on that high, enjoying my visit, playing with Nick, hanging out with Jeremy, hunting with the Pack, calling Elena when I could, for once feeling no guilt, no warring loyalties. Whatever came, we’d work through it.

Not having Logan at Stonehaven helped with the guilt. Since I’d planned to come home late, he’d decided to spend Christmas at his half-sister’s place. They weren’t a tight-knit family—never had been—but they liked to maintain the illusion of closeness at Christmas, and if he skipped out, he’d feel the cold front all year.

While I was in a great mood, Nick seemed off, one minute bouncing along on whatever adventure I suggested, talking nonstop, then next minute reflective and quiet. I’d catch him studying me with an odd look on his face, or turn and see him hovering in the doorway, as if waiting for me to acknowledge him before he’d enter. I asked him if anything was wrong—trouble with his human friends, problems with women, tension
with his father—but he’d just give me that piercing look, then mutter something and walk away.

On the second night, as I waited for Nick in the sunroom, I watched the snow falling outside the window. It reminded me of Christmas night, when Elena and I had gone out after dinner. We’d hoped the long trek to High Park would give time for our turkey dinner to settle so we could run, but when we got there, Elena was still stuffed, so we’d walked through the ravine instead.

When it had started to snow, I’d pulled her to the side for a warm-up. As we’d kissed, I’d slid my hand under her shirt and she’d jumped, laughing at my cold fingers. When I’d asked if I should stop, she’d smiled, unzipped her jacket, unbuttoned her shirt, and let it fall open, braless underneath. I’d grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her up, mouth going to her breast, her nipple cold and hard against the heat of my tongue—

“There you are!”

I jumped as Nick swung through the sunroom doorway.

“Ready for that run?” he said.

“In a minute,” I said, brushing past him.

“What?” He followed me into the hall. “Where are you going now?”

“Shower.”

“Shower? It’s ten o’clock at night. What the hell do you need—?”

I bounded up the stairs to my room, cutting him short as I closed the door behind me.

When I came out, I found Nick in the guest room, snappish, almost sullen, declaring he didn’t want to go for a run anymore. After ten minutes of teasing and cajoling, he gave in, but grudgingly, as if he was doing me a favor. As I ushered him from the room, I decided I’d talk to Antonio in the morning, see if anything was wrong at home.

We finished our run in the early hours of the morning. Still in wolf form, we stretched out in the snow and dozed. Jeremy, Antonio, and Peter
weren’t back from their evening in Syracuse, and probably wouldn’t be for an hour or more.

When the car sounded in the drive, we roused ourselves to Change. The rousing part came harder for me—I’d been in the midst of a sleepy daydream about Elena, and was reluctant to leave it. So by the time I was pulling on my pants, Nick was already done. I was buttoning up when I noticed him standing, uncharacteristically silent, behind me.

“Trying to sneak up?” I said without turning. “Thought you knew better by now.”

“What’s on your back, Clay?”

“Huh?”

I reached over my shoulder, and found healing nail-tracks from Elena. I grabbed my shirt and twisted around.

“Did I lie in the mud again?” I said. “Never fails. Spring, summer, winter, fall, if there’s mud back here, I’ll find it.”

“There are scratches on your back, Clay.”

“Yeah? Figures. The ravines up in Toronto? They’re in the middle of the damned city. Only safe way to run is through forest so thick I get covered in scratches.”

He said nothing as I pulled on my shirt. Then he looked at me.

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” he said quietly.

“I’ll tell you I’m starving—if you can’t hear my stomach growling already.” I headed for the path. “Jeremy better not have forgotten the takeout this time. And it better not be curry. Last time he brought curry …”

I kept talking, filling the space as fast as I could. I was almost at the house before I realized Nick wasn’t behind me.

The next day, Nick and I picked Logan up at the airport, and the pressure started almost the moment he got off the plane. We went to collect his luggage, and as soon as Nick got separated from us by the crowd, Logan glanced around, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

I shook my head.

“Are you going to tell them? And I don’t mean someday. You have to tell at least Jeremy, before he figures it out.” He grabbed his suitcase from the conveyor belt. “Christ, I can’t believe they haven’t
all
figured it out by now. Every time they start floating theories about your good mood, it’s
all I can do to keep from groaning. Guess when it’s the last thing you expect, it’s the last thing you see, no matter how obvious it is.”

I snagged his other bag and hefted it onto my shoulder.

“They’re going to figure it out, Clay. Remember what Plato said: ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’” He pulled a face. “Or was that Sherlock Holmes? Damn, I need a break. Two weeks after my last exam and I’m still reeling. But the point is—”

“Nick!” I called, lifting my hand.

A dark head in the crowd turned. Nick threw up his hands and hurried over to us.

I’d been hoping that once Logan arrived, it would be easier to phone Elena. Nick didn’t follow at my heels all day, but at any given moment he was liable to drop whatever he was doing and seek me out for a change of activity. If I announced I was going into town, he’d want to join me. And if I didn’t announce it, he’d know something was up—I never left Stonehaven without asking whether he wanted to come along. So I’d been getting by on short, furtive calls when he was busy.

With Logan around, Nick would have someone else to hang out with. Or so I thought. Yet I’d wait for the two of them to get talking, then sneak from the room…only to hear Nick’s footsteps in the hall before I could even finish dialing Elena’s number.

“You want some help?” Logan asked, after my third attempt of the day was thwarted.

“In return for what?”

His eyes widened in feigned outrage. “Geez, maybe a thank-you, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask.”

“Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”

“Good. After dinner, then, I’ll tell Nick I’m calling a friend. Let me talk to Elena for a bit—”

“A bit?”

He shrugged. “Fifteen, twenty minutes …”

“And it’s
me
you’re helping by making this call, right?”

“So I’ll chat, make it look good, then you slip in and take over, and I’ll keep Nick occupied for a few minutes.”

“A
few
minutes?”

“Hey, I’m doing my best here. You in?”

I paused. “You have to call collect. Then I pay Elena back.”

“Will do.” He paused, expectantly, then looked at me. “…and where’s the ‘Gee, thank you, Logan, you’re such a pal’?”

I snorted and headed for the kitchen to start dinner.

After we ate, Logan told us he was going to call a friend, and left us in the weight room. I gave him fifteen minutes with Elena, then headed upstairs. When I got there, though, he took another ten minutes “saying good-bye,” meaning I got to talk to her for exactly sixty-five seconds before I heard a creak in the hall.

Logan stalled Nick while I signed off. When I got in the hall, Nick was standing there with a look on his face that I hadn’t seen since we were teens, and I’d gotten into a scrap at his friend’s party.

“I want to talk to you, Clayton,” he said, barely unlocking his jaw enough to get the words out.

“Sure,” Logan said. “Let’s all talk. Better yet, let’s go into town, get a drink—”

“I want to talk to Clay.”

Logan laughed. “Why the hell would you want to do that?
I
am, by far, the more engaging conversationalist. Come on, let’s grab our coats. Hey, did I tell you about my Christmas Eve? Had all-star wrestling, right in my sister’s living room. Her husband and my brother were absolutely wasted, started bickering about—”

“Who’s Elena?” Nick cut in.

“The girl I just called,” Logan said. “Friend of mine from school. We went out a few times, didn’t really go anywhere, you know how it is. Stayed friends, though, which is—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ve got this.”

Logan shot me a “You sure?” look. I nodded and waved Nick to my room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick said before I could start.

“I was going to, but—”

“Twenty years, Clay. We’ve been pals for twenty years and I have never—
never
—kept anything from you.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“For fifteen years, I’ve been trying to get you a girl. Fifteen years of worrying about why you didn’t want one, feeling bad for you, wondering what I could do. ’Cause I’m your friend, and I feel like I should do something about it. I give you advice. I set you up. I take you to gay bars. Hell, I even bought you a hooker for your birthday. But nope, you aren’t interested. And when you finally are, I have to find out about it by listening at the door.”

I pulled the chair over from my desk. “It just happened.”

“And you ‘just happened’ to tell Logan about it first?”

“I didn’t tell Logan anything. He showed up in Toronto and found out for himself. Otherwise, I sure as hell wouldn’t have told him. Anyway, I wasn’t looking. I met someone and it just…happened.”

He struggled to keep his scowl, but a tiny smile broke through. “About time.”

“Guess it took the right girl. Even then, it was a while before I figured it out, but we’ve been going out for a while, so—”

“Going out?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

I shrugged. “Couple months now.”

“Couple—” Nick groaned and thumped backward onto my bed. “Damn it, Clay,
this
is why you should have talked to me. I always said, you get interested in a girl, talk to me.”

“I’m doing fine.”

He lifted his head. “You’ve been seeing the same girl for months. You don’t have to do that. Yeah, sure, that’s what they might like. And sometimes, it’s what they expect. That’s why you have to be careful. You have to let them know, right up front, what you’re looking for—a little fun, no strings attached. Be honest, that’s what my dad always said. Don’t ever let them think it’s going to turn into something else, and if they do, apologize for the misunderstanding and cut out. Be nice, be respectful, but most of all, be honest.”