Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 06 - Reverence (10 page)

It had been wrong of him to blow Harley like that, to take him like a cheap trick in the alley, yes, but even more so to do it without telling Harley who he was. Val didn’t know what had happened. One minute he’d been talking to Harley, then they were kissing, and that had blown every bit of Val’s restraint to hell. Then he’d picked Harley up and, the next thing he knew, he was on his knees sucking the sweetest damn cock he’d ever tasted. By the time he’d drunk down Harley’s release and kind of got some sense back, he’d had it again— that sensation of being watched. It’d snapped Val right out of his lust-stupid haze and he’d known he’d really fucked up.

The thing was, it bothered him a lot that he had most assuredly demolished any chance of having a meaningful relationship with Harley. More even than it did that he’d obliterated his Alpha Anax’s rules…or so willingly ignored them, at least. The rules were still there, but his obedience, not so much. What did that mean in regards to his loyalty?

Val couldn’t answer that. He concentrated on searching for their watcher to no avail. Whoever it was, he or she must be keeping to Val’s left. “Can you call us a cab?” he asked Harley.

“Sure.” Harley pulled his phone from his pocket. Val kept checking the alley, the sidewalk, the street—if he had his wolf’s sight, he would be able to see into the darkness of the alley across from them. This making do with slightly above human shit sucked stinky nads. Val brought them to the sidewalk then closer to the club. They would wait right by the door since people were coming and going from it almost constantly now. Hopefully the flow of foot traffic would discourage any would-be attackers. Maybe whoever was watching them didn’t mean to harm Harley, but Val wouldn’t take a chance on it. He had to protect Harley, not just for Nathan and Marcus but…but because it was integral to some part of him and he couldn’t grasp why. He just liked Harley, his looks, his wounded eyes, his smile and the salty-sweet taste of his cum. Val thought he’d like to know Harley better, a lot better.

“Should be here in about five minutes since there’s a cab doing a drop-off a few streets over.” Harley sidled up beside him and turned his pretty eyes up at Val. “You’re gonna let me come to your place, right? I really don’t like being alone at night, and lately that’s led to me doing some, uhm, stupid things.” Harley glanced away and Val’s stomach lurched at the confession.

“Yeah,” he ground out. He was torn between asking and not, but Harley made the decision for him.
“Some bad shit happened to me a while back,” Harley said, still not looking at him. “I’m fucked up, but I’m working on that. It’s only tonight I’ve realised being fucked up doesn’t mean I’m totally ruined, ya know. I’m not just good for blowing strangers and getting wasted so I don’t have to remember exactly what I did, and with who.” Then he turned back to Val, and the sadness in his expression strangled the anger at the idea of Harley letting other men use him thoughtlessly. “I have to tell you, swallowing was a big, big mistake. I can’t swear I’m c-clean,” he whispered the last then slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes huge. “I didn’t even think before—”
Harley appeared to be on the verge of running, crying, or puking…or maybe all three. Val understood, in a manner, what he was trying to say, but the fact was, shifters didn’t catch diseases. They could develop some of the same ones humans did, like cancer, but anything airborne, blood-borne, swapped in body fluids—none of that affected them.
But could he tell Harley that? Probably not right now when he was so obviously distraught. “It’s not your fault, Harley. I knew what I was doing, the chance I was taking. Even if you have something, the chance of me getting it,”
is nil,
“was one I chose to take. But we’ll use condoms, if you want to do anything else. I don’t have any at my place, though. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone.” Telling Harley the truth might be the best thing, even if it meant Val never got to touch him again, because seeing the worry in Harley’s face was killing Val, a weird reaction considering he didn’t know the guy. “We are going to talk first.” Val couldn’t condone deceiving Harley. What he’d done in the alley was bad enough.
“I’d really rather not talk, if you know what I mean,” Harley said, a sultry note in his voice as he fluttered his lashes at Val. “Unless it’s you or me moaning yes, harder, things like that.”
Val’s cock sure seemed to like that idea but he shook his head. “I can’t—” Something was moving in the shadows across the street, some dark shape in the pit of the alley was noticeable because it wasn’t the black of the unlit corners, but more of a solid thickness, was the only way Val could describe it. “Get behind me,” he said to Harley, helping the man along by taking his arm and tugging him back.
“Why?” Harley didn’t exactly dig in his heels, but he didn’t come easily, either. “What’s wrong? Did you see someone?” Harley turned his head and it put him off balance enough for Val to get in front of him. “Val, did you see someone?”
“Maybe,” Val answered softly, still staring at the moving form coming from the alley. “I think there’s someone over there.”
Harley pushed at him then pinched his hip hard when Val didn’t move. It hurt and Val was tempted to turn Harley over his knee for it, but he’d said he’d never hurt Harley physically, and he wouldn’t. He did, however, growl and reach for Harley.
“Stop it. There may be danger…” he began, then stopped when the shape altered and yellow eyes flashed out of the alley at them. “Shit.”
“What’s—” Harley squirmed and got out from behind Val. He only moved to Val’s side before freezing, gaze shooting to the alley. “Fuck, oh fuck no. They said they—” he shut up so fast his teeth clacked together.
Val met his panicked look and held it for a second before checking to see if anyone was nearby. There were several people. He couldn’t explain, not here, and Harley had caught himself before he’d blurted out whatever he’d been about to say. A taxi pulled up to the kerb and Val almost wept with relief. “Get in,” he ordered Harley, opening the back door for him. “Take him straight home,” he told the driver, reeling off the address as Harley slid across the seat. “Don’t stop.” Val took a fifty from his wallet.
“Come on,” Harley urged, glancing nervously towards the alley. He patted the seat. “Let’s get out of here.”
Val waited until Harley looked at him, and he dreaded destroying whatever they might have had, even if it’d only have ended up being one night. Val would have probably pined for Harley afterwards, but then again there wouldn’t have been an afterwards because he’d intended to tell Harley the truth as soon as they got back to his place. Now he had to dump that plan.
“I’m not coming, Harley.”
“What? No!” Harley started scooting across the seat. “You can’t stay here. You don’t know, you have no idea—”
Val held up a hand, a plea for silence. “But I do know, Harley. I
do.
Nathan trusts me with you, and I won’t fail him, or you.”
The dawning horror in Harley’s eyes made Val feel sick. Sweat slicked his brow and upper lip and his stomach did a nausea-inducing roll. Harley skittered away, pressing himself against the door on the other side of the cab. “Go. Get me the fuck outta here,” he rasped to the cabbie, never glancing away from Val.
Val stood and shut the door before Harley could say anything else. He didn’t want to hear the man curse him and tell him what a vile thing he was. Val already knew. Harley would hate him, did, in fact. He’d certainly never forgive Val for what he was, which Val could do nothing about, and he’d truly hate him for what had happened in the alley, even though Harley had enjoyed it. The fact that a shifter had given him pleasure would probably cement Harley’s hatred of them.
The cab pulled away and Harley never looked back at him. Val heard the snarl from the beast waiting for him, knew it to be a taunt, and himself to be no match for the shifter, not without some sort of weapon. How had Marcus thought he could fight off and kill other shifters, damaged as he was? But what would happen to Harley if he didn’t? He’d possibly be murdered, maybe even tonight. He’d never be safe.
Val wouldn’t fail, that was all there was to it. He wasn’t going to walk into a trap, though. He needed time, and something to use as a weapon. Val sent the shifter a cocky grin and flipped him off. If anyone else was watching him, they’d probably think he was nuts, but that wasn’t Val’s concern. He turned and started towards the diner, mostly confident that the wolf wouldn’t come running down a street where there were witnesses. Arizona was an open-carry state in regards to firearms. It wasn’t improbable that someone would be carrying a gun and would shoot at a vicious wolf.
Val felt the other watching him as he entered the diner. He kept his expression impassive and sat at the diner counter. A waitress who looked surprisingly fresh-faced came up to him and smiled. “You need a menu, or you want coffee and pie like most folks do? Our peach pie is famous around here.”
He didn’t really want anything, except a few minutes to plan and try not to think of Harley’s rejection. That didn’t seem prudent to mention. “Yeah, that’d be great. Black, no sugar or anything, please.”
“Gotcha.” The young lady winked at him and dashed off. Val spun on his stool enough to keep the street outside the diner in sight. After a few minutes, he had a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, and a huge slice of peach pie—and a clothed man was standing outside the place staring right at him. Goose bumps rippled down his spine. It was the shifter, he was sure of it. Power seemed to roll off the man, nothing as strong as Marcus’ but still apparent for one who knew what it was. Others might or might not feel a prickle of unease, depending on how sensitive they were to the supernatural. Val had lived with it all his life so he knew what he was experiencing.
Whoever the wolf was, he was an alpha, and Val didn’t know of any of those in the area except the ones leading packs, and none of them looked like his stalker. Val’s plan to snatch a butter knife was looking less intelligent, because the man watching him was fucking huge, and since Val was pretty tall himself that said something. Perhaps it wasn’t his height so much as it was his bulk. Even in his best shape, Val had never carried that much muscle. Stringy brownish hair hung in clumps off the man’s head, and a heavy beard covered most of his face and neck. His eyes seemed to be a dark green and carried enough anger that Val knew he would almost certainly fall under his hand. It wouldn’t stop him from trying, but his life was looking to be a hell of a lot shorter than it had fifteen minutes ago.
Val nodded his understanding. When he left the diner, there would be a confrontation, likely a violent one that ended in his death, or at least in him being in a lot of pain. He turned back and ate his pie, barely tasting it although he told the waitress that yes, it was indeed the best peach pie ever. Val didn’t linger over the meal, and he pocketed the knife as he’d intended, leaving a generous tip and hoping he wasn’t getting the waitress in trouble.
Outside the diner, he searched for the shifter he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to find him. The man waited on the corner for him. Val’s senses might be dulled, but he could still smell the acrid tang of an unwashed body. The shifter smelt like a vagrant, not just someone who’d been out stalking a person and hadn’t bathed, but the deeper, sunken-in odour of dirt that took several baths to eliminate. His clothes were ratty, torn, ill-fitting, and his hair was more knots than locks. Val had thought it was brown, but who knew what colour it was under all of the grunge.
Val took a few steps closer, fingering the knife in his pocket. “What do you want?” he ventured to ask.
“Who are you?” the other shifter grated out, his voice as rough as if he’d scarred his throat tissue from years of smoking, or perhaps a long period of not talking.
Val cocked his head to one side and hoped he came off as self-assured when he was really scared. Dying wasn’t high on his list of things to do, but he’d give his life to keep Harley safe. That was part of following his orders.
“You will not harm him,” he finally said, snarling when he’d meant to speak calmly. “You will not touch him, I won’t let you, and neither will the Alpha Anax.”
“What the fuck is an Alpha Anax?” the man asked, clearly bewildered. “And what the hell, you’re the one mauling the man in the God damned alley. What were you doing, setting him up to turn him? You think that’d accomplish your goal?”
Val came closer, anger burning hot in his chest. “And what do you know about my goal? You think killing him is the solution?” How the hell did the shifter not know what or who the Alpha Anax was?
“Killing him? I don’t think so.”
The words were uttered so quietly, Val barely heard them. Confusion tapped at his brain cells and he hesitated for a second, which gave his attacker all the time he needed. Val’s skills at fighting were top-notch, or had been before he’d almost died. Now he found himself dodging a punch and being grabbed around the waist. He was hoisted over one big, smelly shoulder and the fight was on.
Except, he couldn’t get free of the man, and was being carried into another dark alley. Val tried to kick, hit, he even bit the nasty shirt and soured skin beneath it. He had to have drawn blood to the man’s back, but the guy didn’t even grunt. Instead he slammed Val violently against the wall.
“Fuck with him, will you,” he growled. “I’ll fucking kill you before I let you do the same thing to him one of you did to me.”
Val’s ears were ringing and his brain was jarred, he thought, which might have been why he didn’t understand what the hell his attacker was saying. Val was pinned, between the man’s back and the cement or brick wall, upside down, still dangling over that shoulder. He kicked and reached around, got a handful of balls and squeezed, hard.
“Augh!”
Val landed painfully, still keeping his grip. He wasn’t the only one to hit the ground, and soon he was gasping, pain and lack of air combining to make him dizzy. He tugged on the balls again and was able to take advantage of the hurt he was causing and roll out from under the damned giant on him. He also had to let go of his source of control, but that was okay. Val made sure to add enough of a twist that he doubted his attacker would be getting up any time soon.
“You better stay the hell away from him,” he rasped, and damn it, the stupid butter knife had fallen out of his pocket somewhere along the way! “Come near Harley again, and I’ll rip your fucking head off.”
One way or another, I’ll keep him safe. Even if it means taking a human route to that and using a gun.
Val almost shivered at the thought. He’d carried a gun as a weapon a few times and never liked it, because, to him,
he
was the weapon—but not anymore.
He didn’t wait around for the other shifter’s reply. Being anywhere close once he recovered wasn’t a good idea. The guy’d be out for Val’s balls, and that whole eye for an eye thing didn’t sound so great now. Val spun and almost fell, his thigh protesting the sudden move, but he thought of Harley, kept his feet, and ran.