The countdown is running out, we are nearly at the point of being published
Déjá vú, but can Kyle change the way it all went down last time, so he can keep the only man he ever loved?
Standing over another mutilated person, Kyle knows the rogue werewolf is back. He’d seen this before, year ago, when everything turned to shit.
Brad was in two minds about coming back to his hometown after running away because of a kiss—that resulted in his best mate’s murder. When his mentor asks for his help, Brad agreed a little too easily.
But it was an excuse to run into the one man he’d been pinning over for too long now. Why he can’t get Kyle out of his head, Brad isn’t sure. However, as soon as he locks eyes with Kyle, the fresh wash of lust tells him he may never be able to.
Can a goal to hunt down the rogue that took their friend’s life—the reason they had been apart—be a reconnection they both so desperately need?
Note: it’s highly recommended that this series to be read in order.
Man, he is a beauty.
Lean frame, body seemed to hold a heavier mass of muscle than he had the last time Kyle had seen him. His forearms had a definition that Kyle had no doubt went the rest of the way up and down that body. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue when Brad rolled up his dress shirt sleeve.
To anyone not paying as close attention to the man, he’d be thin, but Kyle saw the effort that kept that frame slim. He had no doubt that Brad hadn’t changed all that much since leaving him—his personality wouldn’t allow him to not stay in shape.
His neck, another perfect piece of flesh Kyle couldn’t stop staring at, wondering what Brad would taste like if he took a nibble there. Would it be as good—better—than that kiss was? Would he wriggle or moan?
His chin was straight, male. A dark spattering of stubble, like he hadn’t shaved that morning, covered the bottom half of his face, hiding nothing, but definitely there. A straight nose and buzzed brown hair, which had hurt Kyle a little when he saw it. He really liked the messy fluff of hair that Brad grew. Thick and motionless, it stuck up like an afro, which Brad hated, but Kyle loved. Kind of made a statement on its own, and said nothing. After all, if Kyle wasn’t there to see it, why would he put up with the mess?
His eyes were the thing that had always caught Kyle. Those dark blue orbs that turned nearly black when the man was angry, and liquid ebony when he was horny. Kyle had seen both, often aimed at him, which really didn’t help anything.
Kyle had lived days, night, weeks, and years, with the need for those eyes on him again, for Brad to come back to him, but it had never happened, and Kyle, though heartbroken, had finally given up hope.
It shouldn’t have taken him nearly half the time it did for Kyle to realise Brad wasn’t coming back. Especially, not when after the way he’d taken off without a word after.
Kyle rubbed at the pain between his ribs as the memories of Pete being dead, ripped to pieces, and later the wooden coffin as the curtains had closed, taking everything that was ever Pete away for good. Then, having to stand aside and watch, without letting the other man know he was there, as Brad packed up his bag and left. Cop school—he was going anyway, but before Pete’s death, he was always coming back. After that, he didn’t even bother saying goodbye.
“Kyle?” Gene asked, his voice right next to him, filling the room. The tone of his voice made him look up, first at the room, and then his mate, Brad.
They were all looking at him, that is, everyone except Brad, who was studying the ground as if it was the most fascinating thing on the planet.
“Yeah?” Kyle said back, putting on a smile that hurt his lips. “Um…” He cleared his throat. “Ah, excuse me,” he added, getting up off the lounge and going to his room. He didn’t remember the trip, barely felt his feet as they moved him along. All he wanted was to be alone, in his room, so that he didn’t have to infect everyone with the pain of problems, and history that didn’t matter at this point.
Brad’s leaving didn’t matter. Nothing that happened between them mattered to him. That was why he got up and left without a word.
Kyle knew that he wasn’t being fair, not about anything, but the throbbing pain of knowing that he didn’t matter enough for Brad even to look in his direction when he up and left, hurt Kyle as much now as it did when he realised what the other man was up to.
He really hadn’t meant to hide. He was heading over to Brad’s because he needed friendly arms to hold him, and he thought Brad would need them, too. They had both been equally close to Pete, and Kyle thought more so to each other.
Nevertheless, the kiss didn’t matter. Not to Brad. Not like it did to Kyle.
Kyle took in deep breaths as his chest tightened in on itself. He needed to hold himself together. However, the pain wouldn’t recede.
The night came back, sweet, and tender, a light brush of lips that turned deep and tasted like forever under Kyle’s. Hands grabbed at him, pulling him closer, wanting to strip Kyle bare and have their way with him. Or was that just wishful thinking on his behalf.
God, he’d thought about that kiss every night since it happened, to the point that he wasn’t quite sure what it really felt like, and what he had made up. However, since he was one hundred percent sure they had kissed, the rest was still up in the air.
A soft knock landed on the outside of his bedroom door startled Kyle more than it should have. It had been a long time since anyone had ever knocked, which was a sign he should have listened to before he called out to whoever it was to come in.
Brad stood just inside the doorway, the door itself blocking most of his body as he looked around the jam. The uncertainty in his eyes was puzzling to Kyle. Why did Brad have to be uncertain around Kyle?
“Can I come in?”
“Wouldn’t have said so if I wasn’t inviting you in.” His tone was a little harsher than he wished it would be, but the pain in his chest turned a funny way, creating an odd feeling in his body, like butterflies hacking at his lungs.
“Right.” Brad laughed nervously as he edged his way into the room, looking around slowly before he closed the door and leant against it. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” God, he was a stupid fuck, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Pride. That one fucking emotion that pissed him off was now awake in his body and it wasn’t allowing Brad to fuck with him. Not this early in the game, not when he would then leave and Kyle would hurt all the more afterwards.
Not going to fucking happen.
“Um…” Brad rubbed at the back of his neck. “You looked kinda panicky, and then you took off.”
“And you drew the last straw,” Kyle put on.
“What? Of course not. I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Yeah, just like when Pete died and you just left, Kyle thought to himself. Thankfully, he didn’t say it out loud. He really didn’t need to sound like a whiney bitch whose feelings were hurt from just one kiss. He was better than that. Well, okay, he knew better than to show that.
“Well, I’m fine, see? You can run along now,” he said pointedly.
Brad nodded as he turned to open the door, but it never happened. Hand on the knob, he sighed heavily as his head hit the door, hard, if the clunk was anything to go by.
“Can we not do this?” he muttered to the door.
“Pretend that we don’t know you’re bullshitting?”
“It’s hard,” Kyle muttered back, dropping the act.
“It’s hard? This?”
“Yeah…” Kyle took in a breath, “Made me think of Pete straight away. Nearly had a meltdown when we came across Jack,” he finished lamely. It wasn’t what he truly meant, but the only other thing he had left.
Brad was quiet for a long time. His shoulders came up in a deep breath before he pushed a sound out, seeming to push everything he was out with it. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, scary stuff, but like Gene said, it’s not the same, Jack’s alive and we’ll catch him. Especially now that you’re here.”
“Yeah.” Brad laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound, and it ate at Kyle more than anything else had, like a memory that came back to haunt him, and he was letting it.
The door clicked. Brad had opened it, so that meant this little alone time between them was at an end. Kyle inhaled over the constriction in his chest, trying to lessen the pain of having to watch Brad walk away again. It wasn’t the same. He’d see him at breakfast, if he and the cop were still staying, but it didn’t stop Kyle feeling as if Brad was leaving forever again.
“Yeah,” Brad muttered again, repeating the word blandly.
Kyle had forgotten what they were even talking about. Brad pulled the door open and left, not one look back. Just like before.
Kyle curled in on himself as soon as the door clicked shut. It felt as if a burning knife had sliced into his chest. It ached like nothing he had prepared himself for before. The first time hadn’t been this bad. He’d been too numb then to realise just how much he needed that one man to be there.
Why couldn’t he push aside all the crap that was rolling around inside him and just ask Brad to help—ask for one moment of the man’s time so that he could feel better about the situation?
Why couldn’t this just hurt less?
Why couldn’t he grab hold of his balls and tell Brad what needed to be said?
A Werewolf’s Howl by Bronwyn Heeley
Release date 15th of May 2014