A Shadow of Wings (3 page)

“Perfect,” Dylan said, eyeing the big fat juicy meatballs and feeling his mouth fill with saliva. Cam put the plate down for the dog, and Dylan could only watch as she gobbled them noisily in three seconds flat. 

“More?” Cam asked. 

“I…” He put his hand over his hollow stomach. “Don’t suppose you got enough for two?”

“Huh? Oh…oh, yeah. I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked.” All adorable stammering and practically falling over himself to reload the plate, Cam quickly had two plates ready—a cold one for the dog and one microwaved, complete with leftover spaghetti and sauce, for Dylan. Dylan gave up working on the dog long enough to turn to the counter behind him and tuck in. Cam wiped his palms on his jeans and asked, “Soda? Beer? Wine?” He waved vaguely toward the fridge. “Whatever you want.”

“Beer, if you got it,” Dylan muttered around a huge mouthful of pasta. He ate as fast as the dog, then guzzled the frosty brew in a glass Cam handed him. He felt the cold beer slide down his gullet. “Uh, so good…” he groaned.

He didn’t even think of how sexual that sounded until he glanced at Cam, who stood looking somewhat flushed and flustered. Just to test the waters, Dylan licked his lips and raised his glass of beer. “You’re a great cook. Thank you,” then, running his gaze down Cam’s body, took a long, leisurely swallow of beer and licked his lips again.

Hmm, interesting shade of pink his friend’s cheeks were turning. And if he wasn’t mistaken, that thickening ridge pressing against the zipper of Cam’s jeans told a tale as well.

God damn…he shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t even be thinking of this. It was too much like how he’d lived before, and he’d sworn he wouldn’t do that shit again. But he’d been so hungry, so tired for so long. And considering how crappy his luck had been lately, how often would another chance like this come around? 

Seducing Cam Coburn might at least get him a warm bed for the night.

How had he thought Dylan was plain? He was…exotic. Erotic. Just desperate and edgy enough to have Cam’s inner beast wanting to wrap its wings around him and draw him close to his chest where he could taste and hold and
have
. 

But it was forbidden.

If he glanced out of the corner of his eye, Cam could see the shadowy wings of his soul unfurling toward his impromptu guest. The drive to protect hadn’t stopped when he’d rescued Dylan from the gangbangers. It just…kept on. And that had never happened before. He didn’t know how to handle it. Instead, he stood there like a moron, wiping his damp palms on his jeans and praying Dylan didn’t notice his growing erection. 

The dog gave him an out, growling low at him again even though he’d just handed her a dozen excellent meatballs. 

“Hey,” Dylan scolded her softly, nudging her with his ratty, unlaced work boot. Even that was sexy. Everything from his lean face to his black-and-silver gauges to his narrow hips and washed-out skinny jeans drew out every protective, possessive instinct in Cam’s monstrous soul. He needed to ask Tash about this. No! Tash would be furious to know Cam had brought an unknown human to the house. He’d have to tell Tash how he’d found Dylan, driven out by the calling that only Cam heard, that made him a freak among freaks. “Cam?”

Cam startled, realizing Dylan must have asked him a question. He looked up, stopping his gaze at the other guy’s chin, hoping his hair hung over his eyes enough to hide them. Grabbing his dark glasses now would cause more problems than it would solve. “Sorry, what? Want another beer?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took Dylan’s glass, went to the fridge, and opened another can, then poured it in. His hands were steady enough. Good. He exhaled a long breath to calm himself, then got a beer for himself but didn’t bother with a glass. For a couple of minutes, he sipped his beer from the can and watched Dylan eat. Everything about him fascinated. The tattoo on his neck was of a phoenix, Cam realized, a fiery bird with its beak open, rising from the flames that must continue down below the collar of Dylan’s shirt.

Dylan caught him staring and smiled. He rubbed his fingers over the tattoo, and Cam dropped his gaze even more. Great, way to make the guy uncomfortable. “It’s a phoenix,” Dylan said.

Feeling like he was trapped in a spotlight, Cam nodded. “I know. I, uh, recognize it. From mythology. The bird that rises from its own ashes.”

Dylan scraped his plate for the last bits of pasta. “Yeah. I guess I thought it would be symbolic of my life, but I still seem to be flopping around in the rubble.” There was a gentle humor in his voice that drew Cam’s gaze again. “Did you make those meatballs yourself?” When Cam nodded, he said, “I could eat those all day.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve got plenty.” He reached to take the plate, then hesitated. “Want more?”

He risked a peek upward. And oh, the unexpected spark in Dylan’s eyes gave “more” a whole new meaning. Dylan slowly wiped a bit of sauce off his lower lip with the pad of his thumb, then licked it off—there was nothing overtly sexual about the movement, but it made Cam feel hot and prickly all over, as if his blood didn’t know which way to flow and was crashing through his veins in colliding waves. 

“Maybe later,” Dylan said.

The dog belched, which made them both laugh, and the tension eased. “Looks like she’s feeling tons better,” Dylan said, rubbing her back with the toe of his boot. “I’ll still take her to see the doc in the morning.” 

“So, are you going to name her?” Cam asked, sliding the plate into the sink, hoping Dylan didn’t think less of him for not having washed his dishes today. 

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

The tan-and-white dog sprawled out on the Italian tiles with a heartfelt groan. Even cleaned up, she was still a scary-looking mutt. “I guess it depends on if you’re going to keep her.”

Dylan reached down to pet her, and she closed her eyes. “I don’t think I can. Like I said, my place don’t allow pets. I guess I have to hope Dr. Martin will let me keep her at the clinic until I can find a home for her.”

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy.”

“No, but… There are kind-hearted people out there.” He smiled up into Cam’s eyes, and Cam ducked his chin. You could never tell the reaction a human might have looking directly into his eyes. Some froze up; some passed out. Some went into a trance, while other saw their worst nightmares pulled up from the dark corners of their minds and ran off screaming. Some keeled over dead, though that happened only in the heat of battle. 

Of course, Dylan wouldn’t know that. He’d find Cam’s behavior bizarre, and it only reminded him of all the reasons his kind were forbidden to form attachments to humans. 

He should grab his shaded glasses, make some excuse. But then he wouldn’t be able to see Dylan’s face clearly, and he truly longed to have that precious connection. Cam turned to the sink and ran the water to wash the dishes. “You could call her Graciela, after the restaurant where you found her.”

“Graciela. We could call her Gracie for short.”

We?
Cam bit his lip, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat. “Gracie’s good. Or something tough, like…Spike. Spikette.”

Dylan chuckled. “The Terminatrix.”

“Xena, warrior princess.”

“No, I got it.” He snapped his fingers. “Hillary.”

“Hillary?”

“Like Hillary Clinton. She’s tough, right?”

Cam snorted. “I guess. Or Gertrude. I don’t know anybody named Gertrude, but you’ve got to be tough to carry off a name like that.”

“True dat.” Dylan sat back in the chair, one long leg stretched out in front of him. 

“That bruise on your cheek is starting to get purple,” Cam observed. “It’s not too late to put some ice on it. And you should take some Tylenol or something. I’ve got stuff.”

“Thanks, man.”

His gratitude made Cam feel all wiggly and warm inside, like a puppy that had done good. Absurd. He stopped with the dishes and got the ice pack and pills. He’d never taken care of someone before and found he really liked it. Or was it just taking care of Dylan? Come to that, he’d never even had a human under his roof before. Maybe it was just the novelty of the situation making him all jittery.

Dylan took the ice pack and swallowed down the pills with the last of his beer, maybe not the best idea, mixing them; then he handed his empty glass over. This close to him, Cam took in Dylan’s hot, earthy scent. Some humans might find the old-clothes and faded sweat smell less than appealing, but it was all he could do to stop himself from crawling into Dylan’s lap and rubbing his face all over him, marking himself with the other man’s mouthwatering aroma. 

Clearly mistaking the motivation behind Cam’s deep inhalation, Dylan looked a little sheepish. “Sorry, the washing machine in my building’s been broken for a while. I’m not exactly springtime fresh.”

“Do you…want to take a shower here? I have clothes that might fit you.” The idea of his clothes against Dylan’s skin made his cock perk up, and his phantom wings fluttered. 

“Jesus, that’d be sweet. I don’t want to impose, though.”

“No, no imposition at all. There’s a shower in…” The guestroom. He should say guestroom. “…my bedroom.” 

The sensual smile that curved Dylan’s mouth, lifting the scuffed left side of it, should have been a red flag waving in Cam’s face. But when Dylan got slowly to his feet, Cam froze in place, hardly able to breathe, his heart pounded so hard. Cam’s proximity to the chair meant that when Dylan stood, they ended up nearly chest to chest, body heat mingling, only the snoring dog’s body separating sneakers from boots. 

Dylan touched him—the lightest press of his fingertips on Cam’s waist that he felt like embers through his cotton shirt. “So let’s go,” Dylan murmured.

“Go…? Oh. Yeah, sorry. Long day.” Long day, his ass. As he turned, his face burning, Cam realized he didn’t have to worry about getting too attached to Dylan, since his insane behavior would no doubt drive the guy away.
Fuck.

And then he realized something else. 

Dylan had looked Cam in the eye and had been unafraid.

Chapter Three

It would be easier to feel guilty about what he planned to do if Dylan didn’t truly, genuinely want Cam Coburn. Something about the jumpy way Cam acted around him pulled at Dylan in all the right places. Physically, Cam was a pretty imposing dude, lean and muscular, barely an ounce of fat on him. All those martial arts had toughened his body, giving him great biceps and pecs and probably flat six-pack abs Dylan looked forward to running his hands over. And the thick ridge in his jeans promised near-porn-star proportions there too. A guy like this you’d think would know what the looks meant that Dylan had been shooting his way. But he stumbled over his words and feet and blushed like a…like a virgin. 

No way.

Dylan was twenty-three, and he’d been an old hand in the sack by the time he graduated high school. Okay, maybe he got an early start, blowing the preacher’s kid in the choir loft when they were only freshman, but he thought most gay guys came out of the gate hot and heavy. He had no doubt Cam was gay. Not with the size of that boner. Maybe he was still in the closet? What was the point of that? He lived alone, apparently. He could do what he wanted, right? Let Dylan do what he wanted, which was rub on him and kiss him and suck on him…

Christ almighty, he had to inwardly smirk at his own resilience. You can’t keep a desperate guy down, apparently, even after kicking his butt in a dark alley. By the time he finished following Cam’s tight ass into his spacious bedroom, he had a boner of his own. 

Cam’s bedroom was in a worse state than the kitchen, which Dylan found oddly reassuring. The sheets were rumpled, the thick maroon comforter dumped half on the floor. A pile of clothes lay in a heap in the corner. A stack of books and magazines were scattered in a random mess on the nightstand. So the kid liked to read. Dylan peered at the titles. Everything from Steven Hawking’s book on physics to a dog-eared copy of
Othello
to
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
. A hot rich virgin ninja nerd? Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. He’d won the rent-boy lottery.

Cam stopped at an open door and reached in to switch on a light, illuminating a beautiful big bathroom the likes of which he hadn’t seen since he’d left home years ago. Dylan nearly whispered a prayer of thanks, seeing clean tile, clean towels, a glass-enclosed shower.

He walked past Cam, then startled at his own appearance in the mirror. Leaning close, he dragged his hand over his face. “Jesus, I look like shit.” And it wasn’t just the abrasions on his cheekbone but the hollowness, the pasty color. Hell, if Cam really was interested in him, it sure wasn’t for his looks. Despite trying to deny it, he felt a pang of depression.
This isn’t who I really am,
he wanted to say.
I won’t always be like this. I can’t. 

Drawing in a deep breath, he rocked back on his heels. Cam watched him quietly from the door, his eyes flicking over Dylan’s body, then up to stop around the area of his chin. Whatever Dylan’s faults, Cam seemed able to see past them. In fact, he looked the way Dylan imagined he had when presented with that dish of meatballs. Starving. There was no trickery to Cam’s expression. He didn’t know how to flirt. Everything was right there in his face. And in his pants. He looked harder than ever.

How bad off must he be to want Dylan in his present stinking, battered state?

Well, lucky day for Dylan, and who was he to question? Without a word, Dylan grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. As he’d hoped, Cam’s gaze followed, and he heard his new friend suck in a lungful of air. At least Dylan had bothered to stay in shape. Jogging and doing sit-ups were sometimes the only things that kept him sane. Kept him from falling into the easy trap of his old bad habits.

And…fuck. He shouldn’t be doing this. But he was.

“Do you…need anything?” Cam asked when Dylan hesitated. He sounded a little breathless. His hair hung in a black hank over his furrowed brow, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands into his pits as if holding himself back from touching. This pleased Dylan for some perverse reason. Yeah, he was feeling a more than a little perverted right about now.