Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 06 - Reverence (11 page)

Val was a shifter, that was what he’d meant. Harley couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How could he have been attracted to one of
them?
Jesus God, he was
still
attracted to him! Harley’s stupid dick was every bit as hard as it’d been before he came. Riding away in the cab felt like the biggest mistake he’d ever made, and it actually kind of hurt like a physical pain.

“Damn it.” Harley clasped his head in his hands. He wanted Val, wanted all of him, even wanted to feel Val take him! How had this happened? Harley knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Nathan—and Marcus, he guessed—had sent someone to watch him. They’d warned him, hadn’t they? For his own good, Nathan had said. Harley thought of those glowing yellow eyes in the alley. Had Val had an accomplice, or was he staying behind and playing the white knight, sending Harley off to safety?

Flashes of the viciousness he’d witnessed caused Harley to break out in a cold sweat. Val was a shifter, but he was…he was hurt, somehow. He had that scar, and the eye patch, and he limped—could he take on a healthier shifter? Were his limitations only in human form? Harley couldn’t make sense of that. It seemed to him that a shifter would be just as injured, if the injury had been permanent, in whatever form the shifter was in. He knew they healed really fast, had seen it happen, so whatever had damaged Val, it had to have been really bad, right? He thought of the man in the hospital bed, of the way he’d felt when he’d touched that still, swollen hand. Maybe he had a thing for wounded shifters, or wounded men.

Harley slumped in the seat. What would mess up a shifter that bad? He couldn’t imagine. It had to leave Val at a disadvantage, though, just as it would a regular human being, when it came to a physical confrontation. A wolf in the wild, blind in one eye, and lame, for lack of a better word, probably wouldn’t last long at all. And Harley didn’t think shifters were much more evolved than their hairy counterparts.

Val had been nice, though, and he had a mouth that—“Stop it,” Harley chided himself. Damn, he ached somewhere deep inside. Leaving Val felt all kinds of wrong, and he didn’t know why. It just did, and Harley couldn’t do it, because if Val was really decent—and Harley could grudgingly admit that maybe some shifters weren’t total murdering psychos— then he might have just sacrificed himself to keep Harley safe

That was just fucked up. Harley didn’t want anyone dying for him, and if Val died, something told Harley he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it. He bolted up and whacked the driver’s seat. “Go back!”

The cabbie held up the fifty. Harley cursed and dug a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet. “You want it? Follow my orders instead, you asshole!”
Okay, calling your cab driver names was not Harley’s brightest moment, and the Uturn the man took flung Harley across the back seat of the vehicle. He should have buckled up, but whatever. He let the driver get his kicks—it didn’t matter, just as long as he got back to Val. “Hurry!”
The trip away from the club had been pretty smooth, but the cabbie found every bump he possibly could, jostling the crap out of Harley. Harley kept his eyes peeled for Val and for those glowing yellow eyes. When they reached the club he got out, his heart slamming because he didn’t see Val anywhere. There were no glowing eyes in the alley, either. “You want the hundred, wait here,” he told the driver right before he got out. Harley tore the hundred in half and tossed one piece at the angry man. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I hope. Damn it all! What am I doing?
What’s right, that’s what I’m doing. I can hate all shifters for the actions of Dobson, and be the kind of bigot I’ve had to fight against all my life, it seems like. Or I can get over my fear and accept that there are good shifters just like there are good humans. Fucking fear makes everyone haters, even me. I am so ashamed.
Harley’s internal dialogue was one he hoped he’d remember later, when he had time to examine it. Right now, he just wanted to find Val, to make sure he wasn’t dead or hurt or…whatever. He just wanted to find him. Harley jogged past the club, scanning the surrounding area. The diner was doing a fairly good business, but he didn’t see Val there. It was possible he’d gone back in the club. Harley didn’t know where to look first.
“Fuck!” Harley screeched as he ran into a familiar hard body. This time his momentum took them both to the ground, and he heard Val’s sharp gasp as they hit, Val wrapping Harley in his arms and rolling slightly, which probably saved Harley from cracking his head open.
“Oh my God, you’re okay.” Harley knew he sounded breathless and hoped Val attributed it to the fall, but the truth was, just feeling Val, seeing him, made Harley unaccountably happy to his soul. He didn’t even question why, because it was just true and he was done doubting himself constantly.
Val grunted and his eye widened. “Get up, we have to get you away from here! Why did you—?” A loud sound came from the alley Val had run out of. “Never mind. Go!” He pushed Harley and Harley grabbed his wrists, bringing Val up with him.
“You too.” Harley kept his hold on one wrist and fitted himself under Val’s left arm. “Lean on me and move it, buddy.”
“Buddy,” Val muttered. “Right. I know you hate us all.” But he was already moving, letting Harley guide them towards the cab.
“We’ll talk when we get home,” Harley told him, trying to look behind them and still keep them from running into someone in front of them. They made it to the cab and he helped Val get in. “You first, I’m not having you do something so stupid again as staying behind.”
Val flinched and Harley worried he’d taken the words wrong, but he’d explain later that he didn’t think Val any less of a man for his scars. He just had an inexplicable need to keep Val safe, and to touch him. He did so, too, sliding in beside Val and putting a hand to his right leg. “Now, take us to the address he gave you—and you only get the other half if you don’t hit every God damned bump you can find!”
“What do ya expect when you call me an asshole?” the driver bitched.
“I expect you to prove me wrong, strive for better customer service or something,” Harley retaliated. “Now will you just drive?” He turned to look out of the rear window and thought he saw someone coming from the alley, but it was hard to say for certain as a group of people came out of the club. Harley settled back and turned to Val. “Are you okay?”
Val didn’t seem to know where to look, or maybe he just didn’t want to look at him. The idea made Harley feel like shit, but it was his own fault. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I’m…I’m trying, here.” He waited and Val finally glanced at him.
“Okay. I don’t understand why you came back.”
Harley started to answer, then, suspicion poking at him, he checked and sure enough, the cabbie seemed to be paying them too much attention. “Do you
mind?
” he snapped. The driver shrugged. Harley sighed and turned his attention back to Val. “I couldn’t leave you, that’s why. Something here,” he pressed at his gut, “actually hurt the farther away we got. When I realised what you were doing, what might happen,” he slanted a look at the nosy cab driver again, glared at him, “I knew I had to rearrange some of my thinking, okay? I have always despised the narrow-mindedness of bigots, and yet I became one. That really disturbed me.”
Val averted his gaze, giving Harley his profile, which was damned near artistically perfect, he thought. Val’s profile should have been carved in the finest marble and displayed in galleries. Oh hell, Harley thought with an internal snort, he was turning into a love-struck teenager.
The drive back to the apartment building was quiet, and Harley wanted to squirm but he respected that Val might need some time to process everything, or maybe he just didn’t talk much. Occasionally he’d catch Val staring at him in the reflection in the car window, but only for a split second. Still, it gave Harley hope that maybe he hadn’t blown everything. He didn’t know what was going on with him, or between him and Val, but something was. Harley intended to find out exactly what it was.
Right after he convinced Val to have sex with him.
“Here’s the other half,” Harley said when the cab stopped. He handed the torn money over and got out. Val got out on his side instead of sliding over. Harley told himself that was because it was easier on Val’s leg to do so, but he worried Val just hated him. Well, he
was
being a real drama queen. Harley gave himself a mental eye roll and waited for Val to join him before walking into the building.
Harley almost always took the stairs, but the way Val was limping that was out of the question. He stopped at the elevators and pushed the UP button. Val still wasn’t looking at him. “Are you going to ever talk to me?” he asked the shifter.
Val turned that one eye on him for half a second and didn’t answer. Harley fought against stomping his foot in annoyance, and huffed, “Great.” He narrowed his eyes at Val. “I get the silent treatment. What are you, my wife?” If he couldn’t have a civil conversation with Val, maybe he could provoke him into saying something. Anything was better than the continued silence.
What he didn’t expect was the snort of laughter from the man. Harley gaped as Val began to snicker. Laughing like that, he was beyond gorgeous, and Harley yearned for him with a desperation so sharp that it should have scared him. As it was, he just stared, slackjawed and almost drooling.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Harley was pushed inside gently, then the doors closed and that wonderful laughter stopped. He snapped his mouth shut when he realised Val was back to being quiet.
“Are you mad or not?” he asked, confused by the reserved expression Val now had in place.
Val shook his head slightly. “No. I wasn’t mad in the first place. I just needed to think. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes, Harley. I try to make sure what I want to say is the right thing before I say it, if it’s important to me.”
“Well, now I’m really nervous.” Harley rolled his lips in to bite them and keep back any more admissions he’d rather not share. His habit of talking to himself was going to get him in deep shit.
One edge of Val’s mouth curved just a little, and Harley’s pulse jumped. He stared at Val’s lips as Val spoke. “I owe you an apology, first off, and I would prefer to do it properly. Tossing it out there in a filthy cab seemed cheesy.” The elevator stopped and Harley started to get off, but Val stopped him. “Please. Let me do what I’m supposed to. I need to check and make sure the hall is safe, and that no one has tampered with your door or entered your apartment.”
Harley pointed at his door. “But there’s three deadbolts on that thing. Surely no one got in.”
Val shook his head. “You can’t go by how many locks you have on a door. A skilled lockpicker could get past those in minutes.”
Harley wanted to argue more but the intense expression Val wore kept him silent. He wouldn’t risk insulting Val, which was how he feared Val would interpret him expressing concern for Val’s safety. Harley stood by the elevator and watched Val check the door, the stair well, even Val’s own door.
Seemingly satisfied, Val came back over to him. “It’s all clear.” Val pivoted and strode for his door.
Harley shook himself and, for the first time, saw that blood matted Val’s short hair in the back. “What the hell happened to you?” He rushed to Val and reached for the lump he’d seen on the back of Val’s head only to have Val turn and glare at him.
“What happened to me? What made me this damaged freak of a shifter?” Val hissed the last word so that it was barely comprehensible. Harley opened his mouth to explain that wasn’t what he’d meant, but Val turned and stomped off, limping heavily and making Harley wince and wish he could help him. He hurried after Val, who despite having a bum leg had very long strides that Harley struggled to match with his shorter legs.
“I wasn’t always like this,” Val muttered, pulling out keys and putting one in the lock. “I wasn’t damaged. I was a damn good soldier, loyal, followed my Alpha Anax’s orders faithfully, not like tonight. No, maybe I’m messed up on the inside, too, now. I promised I wouldn’t pity myself. I don’t.
I don’t
.”
Harley thought Val was talking more to himself, so he didn’t comment and Val opened the door. Harley half expected Val to shut it, having forgotten about him, but Val held it open and gestured him in. The lights were on and there were boxes all over. Val clearly hadn’t unpacked.
“Harley.”
Harley faced Val, whose lips were pinched tight. Fine white lines bracketed his mouth, making Harley think he must be hurting badly. “Val, your head—” He reached around Val and had to stand on his toes, but he found the sticky lump. “This is what I was talking about. You’re hurt. I didn’t mean anything else.”
Val’s cheeks turned ruddy and he glanced down. “Sorry, I’m really sorry, Harley. I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near you, but you came after me, and I didn’t want to run. It didn’t make sense to, and it’s been a while since a man has looked at me like you did.”
Harley brought his hand around to stroke the line of Val’s jaw. “I’m still looking at you like that, Val, even knowing you’re different. I’m trying to believe that what I’ve seen in Nathan and Marcus’ pack is true, and there are good shifters just like there are good humans, bad ones, too. I just—” He sighed and debated opening up his memories and sharing but he wasn’t ready to do that yet. “I had a very bad set of experiences, okay? With—”
“The same man who almost killed me, Harley. I was in the front room when Dobson tore into the place.” Val caught Harley’s hand, brought it up to the lower edge of his scar. “This, the loss of my eyesight, my damaged leg, my inability to shift, to truly and deeply feel my wolf, all of these are from that attack.”
Harley couldn’t help it, he gasped and stepped back, not in disgust but in dawning realisation. “You were the one in the room, in the hospital bed. I saw you, touched your hand, but your head was bandaged and what parts of your face that weren’t covered was swollen.” Harley stared at him in wonder as Val paled. “I’m so glad you didn’t die. I worried, but pride kept me from asking anyone about you.” Harley’s lip curled as he sneered at his own cowardice. “And I was scared. I hadn’t told anyone I’d left my rooms. I thought about you, but was just too chicken to ask Nathan who you were and if you’d be okay.”
“You saw me like that?” Val rasped. “Hooked up to a machine and useless?”
Harley figured that by ‘useless’, Val meant helpless, or weak, which were things a man like Val would never want to be, or be seen as. “Not useless,” Harley corrected. “You were healing, and I couldn’t stay away. I snuck in and touched your hand, and I felt things that scared me, so I ran and hid in my rooms until I was told I could come back here. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, whereas I acted cowardly.”
“No, you were scared, and traumatised, understandably so in both cases, Harley.” Val touched his hand lightly, and need zipped through Harley.
“It doesn’t matter, I should have at least found out who you were and how you were doing.” Harley hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d left his rooms, not after protesting that he was so terrified and hated all the shifters. “I was a jerk, but look at you. You’ve healed so quickly.”
Val tipped Harley’s chin up with one finger and lightly kissed his lips. “You weren’t being a jerk. Stop calling yourself names. You’d suffered at least as much trauma as I had, just in a different manner. And yes, shifters heal fast, but I was in a coma, something that no one had ever heard of. Our medical knowledge of what we are is limited by our need to stay hidden. Guess the doc at least learned that there are some injuries we can’t heal from, like having our eye punctured by a chunk of metal or our femur shattered. I’m lucky to be alive at all, and lucky too that my leg wasn’t amputated. As for my wolf, well, maybe you won’t hate me as much, considering I’m a flawed shifter who can’t shift. Possibly never.”
Val sounded broken over that, Harley heard it in his voice even though he kept a neutral expression in place. “I’m not that hard-hearted, Val. I’m just not. I have a lot of anger at shifters, yes. Some of the things Dobson did, had done to me, have really messed me up.”
“Did he rape you?” Val asked, straight on and without hesitating. It shocked Harley, because everyone else tiptoed around using that word.
“He didn’t penetrate me,” Harley started before growling in frustration at himself. He’d just done what everyone but Val had. “He didn’t rape me, but he made me t-touch myself, use m-my f-fingers—” Harley had to stop and press his hand to his mouth, because something gross was trying to crawl up from his stomach and splatter on the floor.
“This way,” Val told him, gently touching his hip. He pointed to an open door and Harley ran into the bathroom, then he was sliding on his knees and grabbing the toilet as he heaved. Damn it, he’d decided he wasn’t ready to talk about it, and yet he’d told Val something he’d told no one else. Something he’d tried not to think about, because while Dobson hadn’t used his body to violate Harley’s, Dobson had still violated him in other ways.