Melbourne Heat (13 page)

“You’ll need to keep out of the way,” Charles warned him.

Spencer appeared perplexed, but obeyed without a word. Charles turned back to Malcolm, and the man had already unbuttoned his shirt. With quick, economical motions the men stripped. Charles tried hard to push the knowledge that Spencer was there to the back of his mind. He wasn’t worried or afraid to fight Malcolm, but he couldn’t help thinking about what Spencer would witness. How the young man might see things that changed his mind about Charles.

He didn’t want to think about it.

Forcing himself to shed not just his clothes, but also his concerns, and to disconnect his mind, Charles breathed slowly, evenly.

“I’m so glad you initiated this,” Malcolm taunted him. “I can’t wait to drag you down, break your bones and let the boy see how pathetic you really are.”

“I thought you wanted Spencer to see how vicious I am?” Charles replied evenly.

“Oh, that’s just a bonus,” Malcolm said. “If I can’t bring you down and humiliate you, then at least I can open the boy’s eyes and have him turn away from you. You might think you can win, but to do so you’ll repulse the kid and I can still take him.”

“You talk a great game.” Charles moved so he stood, naked, between Malcolm and Spencer. “But so far all I know is that you have a big mouth. How about you back some of these threats up with action?”

“With pleasure,” Malcolm spat out. The air around him rippled.

Charles knew exactly what was happening—Malcolm was changing—and a part of him refused to look back at Spencer. But Charles wanted to catch one last glimpse of the man. It might be the final time Spencer would look at him with trust. Charles was loath to put a term to their new feelings, but a part of him hoped they were both at the first steps that could lead to love. That light in Spencer’s eyes… But Charles couldn’t waste a moment. After a quick glance at Spencer, he focused inside his soul, tapped into the wild beast that lived there, snarling for release, and gave him free rein.

Pain wracked his body, muscles moved, bones popped and a fire spread over his skin as his wolf burst free. The world shifted, changed as his consciousness receded and his beast took over.

Stars glowed in the sky. Night might have fallen, but he could see through every shadow.

Trees. Grass. Mate.

Scents overwhelmed him and pulses of anger and aggressive intent shimmered in the air. Charles eyed his nemesis and snarled, eager to prove that he was the best, that no one could take what was his.

The two wolves circled, each scenting the air and studying the other.

Motion blurred and the animals attacked. They came together with a clash, bodies hurtling together as jaws snapped. Anger pumped in Charles’ blood. He could take in all the scents around him, but it was his mate who spurred him on. The knowledge that this beast wanted to take his mate had fury boiling in him.

Nothing could take what was his. He would protect. Fight.

Snarling, he bit deep into flesh. The other wolf replied in kind and Charles shook him off. He peeled back his lips, bared his fangs to try to warn the other wolf away.

Angry rumbles came from them both and the other rushed him again. Charles met him with ferocious speed. Charles clawed him. They bit and snapped at each other.

Each drew blood and that scent filled the air, spurring him on.

Teeth snapped. Claws lashed out.

Charles felt fire burning on his flank, could smell the scent of his own blood as pain flamed through him. He limped, but wasn’t cowed. Eagerly, he lashed out, used the moment of the other wolf’s pride to attack.

He snarled and bit deeply into his enemy’s face. Bone cracked and Charles felt a surge of pride. He released his powerful jaws and moved down. He attacked the tender, exposed neck and wrestled the wolf to the ground.

They fought each other furiously.

“Charles?”

The wolf recognized his name, but it was the tone of voice, the scent of mate that drew his attention. Charles looked it up. The body beneath Charles wriggled, and his distraction caused him to lose his advantage.

Malcolm and Charles bit and snapped at each other. Pain started to claw at Charles, and he knew this couldn’t last much longer. They were growling louder now. A small part of Charles’ brain—the human part—cautioned against drawing attention, but the animal didn’t care. The smell of blood grew stronger as they both were injured. Finally Charles saw an opening and took it. He slammed his body into Malcolm and took them both down to the ground.

He clamped his jaws over the other wolf’s neck and shook hard. He bit down into soft flesh and Malcolm stopped wriggling. Charles snarled, shook his jaws in clear intimidation. Malcolm growled, but it lacked the heat from earlier. Charles bit deeper, damaging muscle and tendons.

Malcolm whimpered.

Charles waited a moment. Only when he felt that Malcolm had been suitably cowed did he release him. Charles remained in his wolf form, growling in warning to Malcolm should the man act badly. Malcolm’s fur rippled, and that was when Charles knew it was over.

Malcolm returned to his human form. Bruised and bleeding.

Charles changed.

* * * *

Naked and a man again, the agony of his wounds nearly crippled him. He glanced down at his body. There were claw marks and scratches from the rocks and twigs on the ground. Bruises blossomed and he looked a right mess. Unlike Malcolm, though, he had thankfully received no broken bones.

Charles noticed he’d dislocated Malcolm’s jaw. Malcolm’s face was now uneven. He bent down and waited until Malcolm turned his head, glaring at him. Satisfied that he’d proven his dominance, Charles remained still as Malcolm knelt on the soft ground. Charles moved his face lower, so he could murmur to the man and not be overheard by Spencer.

“I’ve got your scent now,” Charles said. “If I ever catch so much as a whiff of you, if you come anywhere near me or Spencer, I’ll take you apart piece by piece. I’ll eat your flesh carefully and slowly enough you’ll be able to watch me devour you. I’ll make you bleed and writhe in so much pain you’ll beg for me to kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Hatred burned in Malcolm’s eyes. Charles waited, unmoved and not concerned by the fury that rolled in waves off the other man. Patient, he knew Malcolm had no choice.

Finally, the man nodded.

“There’s plenty of clubs in Sydney,” Charles offered. “If you think staying here will be too much temptation, I can give Sydney a wide berth and you can test your luck out there. But I mean it. The smallest indication you’re hanging around and I’ll hunt you down. This will seem like a little love tap compared to what I’ll do.”

“I got it,” Malcolm snarled.

Charles scooted back and stood in a fluid motion. He kept his back to Spencer, hating the fact that he’d witnessed this. Part of Charles wanted to rush at Malcolm, beat him until every bone was broken. Angry that his hand had been forced, he was sad and upset that he’d shown such an ugly side of himself to his partner. He could only hope Spencer would take the situation and the threat Malcolm posed into account. Charles hoped Spencer wouldn’t turn from him and walk away forever.

Malcolm slowly, clearly in pain, climbed to his feet. Charles didn’t move as the man got dressed. Uncaring of his nakedness, Charles waited until Malcolm was fully dressed. The two shifters stared at each other then Malcolm turned and left without a backward glance.

Only when he’d turned off the street and was completely out of sight did Charles heave a sigh of relief. He pivoted and stared at Spencer. The young man was pale, still leaning against the tree. But he hadn’t run. He’d remained here.

Not sure what the hell to say in such a situation, Charles began to dress. He kept his head bowed. If fighting for Spencer had caused him to lose the man… Maybe Malcolm had been right, maybe there wasn’t a way for him to have won.

Charles knelt and tied up his laces. When he was finished he looked up. Spencer had stepped away from the tree and come closer, but still hung a few paces back.

“Are you revolted?” Charles asked.

Spencer shook his head and caused his hair to fall in his eyes. He pulled the strands back and tucked them behind his ear. The familiar gesture caused Charles’ chest to ache and his throat dried.

“I felt terrible,” Spencer said. “You told me to stay out of it, warned me I’d just be in the way and get hurt. I didn’t listen. Then when you had him, I was afraid for you. You both looked so similar as wolves, I thought maybe Malcolm had pinned you. My lack of faith almost caused you to lose. You were hurt because I distracted you.”

Charles frowned. He shook his head. “No, Spence, that wasn’t how it happened.”

“Of course it was, I saw it,” Spencer insisted firmly. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith in you. I was just worried.”

Charles stood and closed the distance between them. He opened his arms and Spencer leaned into his chest. They hugged tightly. The wolf, still close to the surface, loved the scent of Spencer against him. They stood like that for minutes, neither one seeming ready to let go just yet.

“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” Spencer repeated. “Do you need a doctor? The hospital?”

“Nah.” Charles brushed the thought away. “I heal fast. A soak in the bath, some ointment and a couple of days, you won’t even see a mark on me. Are you really not affected by what you saw just now?”

“I was terrified,” Spencer admitted. He lifted his head and they looked at each other. “But mostly I was concerned that you were being hurt because of me. I certainly wouldn’t want to fight you on a bad day, and I’m sure we’re going to have bumps along the way. Every couple does. But not for a second was I afraid you’d hurt me. Your wolf is a part of you, and I want to be with you. I’d rather look at the whole package rather than dwell and obsess over one thing that’s different or that doesn’t conform to some preconceived notion.”

Charles raised his arm and ran it over Spencer’s shoulder. He was so relieved it was almost a physical thing. Spencer wrapped his arm around Charles’ waist and they began to walk back to the street. Their pace was so smooth together, their action in tandem, it was like they’d been together for years, not a matter of days.

Happier than he’d been in a long time, Charles reached out a finger and stroked Spencer’s forehead. He brushed a stray strand of hair and tucked it behind his partner’s ear.

“Let’s get you home.”

Epilogue

A few months later

It had been an incredibly long day. Tax time was always a nightmare for Spencer, and this one was no different. How could people leave everything until the last minute and still expect miracles? As he walked up the footpath to Charles’ house—he really needed to start thinking of it as theirs, not Charles’—he pulled out his key.

Pushing open the door, Spencer let the relief at being home wash over him.

“Charlie? I’m home. I—”

Spencer was knocked back against the wall. The air rushed out of his lungs. His instinct was to be scared. The house had maybe been broken into. The burglar was going to assault him, or worse. Then he realized that, even though he’d been pushed back at a blurring speed, he wasn’t hurt.

Shaggy brown hair pressed into his face. Lips pressed on his temple and scattered kisses down his cheek and onto his neck.

Heat rushed into Spencer’s body. He dropped the new work satchel Charles had bought for him a few weeks ago. Lowering his hands, Spencer eagerly sought Charles’ mouth with his own. Charles beat him to it and Spencer was kissed hard. Roughly. Just how he liked it.

Charles’ hands were everywhere and in moments Spencer was as naked as his partner. Spencer melted into the kiss, love filling his heart. Yes, Charles could be powerful, their fucking sometimes hard enough to border on brutal, but it was always delicious and never too much.

Spencer would happily wear whatever bruises would appear the following morning with pride. Charles turned him around.

“I promised you this, remember?” Charles says. His voice was thick and husky, filled with need.

Spencer could tell Charles had had a long day and had evidently been planning this down to the finest detail. Possibly fantasizing about it for far longer than just today.

Breathless, Spencer couldn’t think. His cock was hard and leaking, begging for attention. Spencer shook his head, unable to have rational thought.

“On our first evening together. I promised that someday I’d take you hard, fast. Fuck you to within an inch of your life and not bother with any of the pleasantries.”

In a rush, Spencer remembered that initial date. That delicious, intoxicating first time between them when everything had moved so fast, but so perfectly. The paintball game, hiding in the Botanical Gardens. And yes, those words, that dark promise—‘
One day I’ll just take you, rough and hard, to hell with your feelings. I’ll fuck you into the wall or floor—wherever the mood strikes me.’

It looked like Charles was going to make good on that promise now.

“Suck me,” Charles commanded as he stuck three fingers into Spencer’s mouth.

Obediently Spencer licked the digits, coating them well, for he suspected where they’d be in a moment. Sure enough, a minute later Charles removed his fingers and spread Spencer’s buttocks.

Without a word or any pleasantries—as promised—Spencer felt the delicious pressure of all three fingers probing against his arsehole. The pain was sharp, intense, but he knew that would soon bleed into delightful sensations.

Charles moved his fingers, stretched Spencer’s hole in quick, efficient movements.

“I need you,” Charles breathed into his ear. “I hunger for you every day. Even though we live together, I can never seem to get enough of you. I find myself stopping halfway through a damn job, wishing you were near so I could fuck your throat, or suck your balls into my mouth. Watch you writhe beneath me and scream for me.”

Spencer moaned, the words fueling his need as much as the fingers filling his ass and stroking over his prostate.