Unattainable [The Wolves of Shade County 1] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Page 5

  To his right came footsteps and he turned just in time for a hulking shape to barrel into him, knocking him from his feet to the hard concrete.

  Chapter Six

  Hudson laughed aloud as he tussled on the parking lot.

  “Get off me, you damn animal!”

  He twisted to the side and the man rolled off him, then jumped to his feet and brushed the sawdust from his dark jeans and shirt. He beamed at Hudson and held out a hand to pull him up.

  “Been a long time, Hud.”

  Hudson grinned and took the offered hand as he stood. “Too long.”

  Bill Smith. It wasn’t his real, or likely even his current, name, but it was the one Hudson had known him by. They’d first met over two centuries ago in Europe and had spent the next century roaming the planet together, exploring countries, sampling local foods and drinks, and occasionally running from torch-bearing mobs.

  While his clothing had changed somewhat, Bill’s face was exactly the same, save for maybe a touch of gray mixed into his tangle of hair, and a new crease or two in the chocolate brown skin around his eyes. His perpetual smile only accentuated his good looks. He was the kind of guy that made fashion photographers weep.

  “So this is where you’ve been keeping busy?” Bill asked. “Never thought you’d return to America.”

  “Enough had changed over the years that I wanted to see it again.” Hudson bent to pick up the door, which had been knocked over during Bill’s customary tackle-hug. “What brings you here?”

  “You.” Bill leaned against the back wall of the bar and folded his arms. “I was further down south, visiting a friend, and heard tell of an old wolf somewhere in this area that refused to join a pack. Figured I’d come see if it was my old travelling pal Hudson.”

  Hudson chuckled. “Yeah, I never was one for packs.”

  “Except our own.”

  “And that turned out so well.”

  Bill laughed. “Hey, the first couple years were fun, at least. Before they ruined it with all the damn challenges for leadership.”

  “Indeed. I don’t know why people can’t be happy with what they’ve got. Some always have to try to get higher up the food chain.”

  “Then get pissy when we whup ’em back down,” Bill finished with a nod. “I’ve been the same. Packs ain’t my style.”

  “So, you staying for a while?”

  “As long as nobody breaks out the pitchforks, sure.”

  “Well you’ll be safe here. Lotsa supes and no complaints.”

  Supes was a term that the supernatural used for themselves. It was quicker than saying, “shapeshifters, vampires, zombies, demons, angels, and other assorted denizens.” It was also less incriminating if overheard.

  Bill twitched his head toward the open door as a scraping sound came from inside. He shot a glance to Hudson.

  “That’ll be the stools I need to repair,” he said.

  As guessed, Clara poked her head through the door and spotted Hudson, then jumped as she turned her head and saw Bill.

  “Morning, miss,” he said, his smile wide. “Just keeping Hud company. Don’t mind, do you?”

  Clara glanced back at Hudson, then again at Bill, and then left without a word. Bill chuckled and stepped over to watch her leave.

  “She doesn’t like you, I take it?”

  Hudson took up his sandpaper and started work again. “What can I say? She had no taste.”

  “That, and she’s part witch.”

  Hudson stopped. “What?”

  “She might not know, but she’s got some witch blood. You can’t smell it?”

  “No. Always had a blind spot with magic.” He frowned. “Explains why she doesn’t like me.”

  “Yeah. She can probably sense you’re different, even if she doesn’t know how.”

  “And here was me thinking she was just a big ole homophobe.”

  Bill snorted a laugh. “Given that this is a gay bar, that’s pretty unlikely.”

  Clara being a witch, or at least having witches in her family, explained a few things once Hudson thought about it. She had always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to certain things. She could tell when a customer was trying to cheat her out of paying before they even tried and had often seemed to pluck thoughts from Hudson’s head.

  In the grand scheme of things, it made no real difference. While there were evil witches, they were no more common than evil shifters. It was down to the person, not their ‘category.’ Oftentimes witches and shifters got along well, too. He’d known more than a few over the decades and had always found them friendly. Clara was a bitch because she was a bitch, not because of the magic in her blood.

  Bill and Hudson shot the breeze while he worked, mostly catching up and reminiscing on old times. They had been apart for so long that it would take more than a morning to cover everything, but there was no rush. Bill had no intention of leaving any time soon, and Hudson was glad to hear it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the guy until he’d reappeared.

  The sanding finished, Hudson headed inside to hang the door. Bill held it in place while Hudson chiseled a little from the frame. Closer to Clara, now, their conversation stayed solely in the here and now, and stayed away from shifter-talk.

  “So, got yourself a man?” Bill asked from the other side of the door. “Last I heard, you were with some guy named Pierre.”

  “Pierre?” Hudson laughed. “That was a long time ago. Guy’s probably…” He almost said dead, then remembered Clara could be listening in. “Probably back in France.”

  “So who now, then?”

  “Actually, I went a long time without seeing anyone at all. Just too hard, you know?” He pushed the door back a little and began fitting the screws into the hinge. “I was happy, too. Or happy as I could be, anyway.”

  “But things changed,” Bill completed.

  Hudson nodded, despite the fact that Bill couldn’t see him. “Met a guy a few days ago. Name’s Micky. Really nice guy, and we seem to think alike.”

  “Always good.”

  “Yeah.” He crouched and screwed in the second hinge. “All right, let go.”

  Bill did as he was told, and Hudson closed the door. Perfect fit. He grinned and opened it once more to let Bill through.

  “Nicely done,” the man said with an approving nod. “So, this Micky guy good looking?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Better looking than me?”

  Hudson laughed and punched his friend on the arm. While they had never been lovers, partly due to Bill being straight, there had been a time when Hudson had been very attracted to the man.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  Bill slapped Hudson on the shoulder. “Then stop worrying and go for it.”

  “What makes you think I’m worrying?”

  “I know you, man. You’re worried about the same thing we all worry about, but for you it’s even more of a big deal.”

  Hudson agreed with a short nod. “Even after all these years. You’d think it would get easier.”

  Bill shrugged. “Did for me. You’re not me, though.”

  “Thank god,” Hudson said, smirking.

  Bill snorted. “You wish you were me. Anyway, what are you doing tonight?”

  “Working here, and I’ve got a date tomorrow night. I’m free in between, though. You staying somewhere local?”

  “Yeah, a hotel a few blocks away.”

  “Screw that.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Here’s my house key. Move your stuff in. No way you’re staying in a hotel.”

  He told Bill his address, and the man assured him he’d find it.

  “If anyone calls, either tell them I’m working, or let the machine catch it if you want to sleep. I’ll be back early morning, and I’ll call if I’m held up.”

  “No problem.” Bill pulled him into a bear hug, then turned toward the door. “Catch you later.”

  “And Bill?” Hudson called as the man stepped out of the back door.
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  “Yeah?”

  “If Micky calls, behave yourself.”

  There was no reply, but Hudson heard the man’s deep chuckle as he walked away.

  * * * *

  Micky arrived at Rhys’ house as the sun was just beginning to set, with a case of beer under one arm and Laura on the other. As was her typical style, she didn’t bother with knocking and instead dragged him through the door behind her, announcing her arrival with a shout of, “Where’s the vodka?”

  Micky rolled his eyes as he extracted himself from her grip. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “It’s why you love me,” she said as she headed for the kitchen.

  Rhys and Craig were sat at the kitchen table, an open beer in front of both of them. They greeted the new arrivals, and Rhys gestured to the fridge with a manicured hand.

  “More beer than even you can drink in there,” he said, pointedly looking at Laura.

  “That sounds like a challenge,” she said with a cackle.

  “No George?” Micky asked as he took a seat at the table, opposite Craig.

  “Couldn’t make it,” Rhys said. “We’re a foursome tonight.”

  Micky shrugged. “Guess I’ll just have to beat you three even harder than usual to make up for the drop in possible winnings.”

  “Please,” Rhys said with a snort. “You’re walking out of this house broke.”

  Once Laura had sat down, the game began, and within ten hands it looked like Rhys was wrong. Micky had always been pretty lucky with poker, but that night he was murdering his friends. After only an hour, his pile of chips far exceeded anyone else’s. It was a shame that the entire stack only added up to about ten dollars. As big as they often talked before and during games, they never played for high stakes. They wanted fun, not ruined friendships.

  After a particularly devastating hand for all except Micky, Rhys shuffled the cards to deal again.

  “So,” he said, his eyes on the cards. “Who’s Bill?”

  Micky looked up from his chips. “Who?”

  “You know, Bill. I was texting Clara and she said he was at the bar with Hudson today.” Rhys smiled and dealt the cards. “Apparently the pair were pretty damn friendly. All big smiles and hugs.”

  Micky frowned. “I’ve no idea. Hudson hasn’t mentioned him.”

  “You’ve not spent much time together yet, though,” Laura said, giving Rhys an evil glare at the same time. “Guess the guy is just visiting.”

  “Maybe,” Rhys said, his gaze back on his cards. “Unless he’s the reason Hudson doesn’t date much.”

  Despite his brain telling him it was nothing like that, Micky’s stomach flipped at the thought. Did Hudson have another man? Perhaps he’d been out of town, and Hudson had been looking for something on the side?

  No, not Hudson. He’s not that kind of guy. He chewed his lip as he shuffled through his hand of cards. He really didn’t know much about the guy, though. What if he was that kind of guy?

  From the edge of his vision, he spotted Laura punch Rhys in the arm. The man swore and dropped his cards.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  “What do you think, jackass?” she said, staring daggers at the man. “Who the hell talks like that to a friend?”

  Rhys held his hands up in defense. “Hey, I was just relaying what I heard. Thought Micky should know, is all.”

  “You’re a fucking tool at times, Rhys,” Craig said, before turning to Micky. “I’m sure he’s just an old friend. Everyone knows Clara doesn’t like Hudson. She’d do anything to stir the pot, even without Rhys’s help.”

  Micky nodded in agreement, then suggested they carry on with the game, but thanks to his mind being elsewhere, his luck soon ran out, and his pile of chips dwindled rapidly, much to Rhys’s delight.

  After a while Micky was so distracted by the game that he threw in his hand and took his beer to the couch instead. Laura joined him five minutes later, much to the vocal disapproval of the two remaining poker players.

  “Don’t listen to Rhys,” she said, as she sat beside Micky. “He probably just wanted you off your game so he’d stand a chance at winning. You know what he’s like.”

  Micky nodded and sipped his beer. “It shouldn’t bug me this much. I mean, even if it’s true that this Bill guy is with Hudson, we’ve only been out once, and it wasn’t exactly a textbook date.” Laura smiled at him, making him frown. “What?”

  She leaned in so the others couldn’t hear. “You care because you care. You really like this guy, and it doesn’t matter that you’ve only had one date.”

  Micky started to disagree, then sighed. “You’re right. I don’t usually get so attached so soon, but with Hudson it’s different.”

  The two sat in silence for a little while, until it was broken by Rhys, who stood in front of the pair, his head low.

  “I’m sorry, Micky. I thought it’d just bug you a little, that’s all, and maybe I’d win a hand or two. I didn’t mean to piss you off so much.”

  Laura raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit. Is Rhys apologizing, or am I already that drunk that my mind is playing tricks?”

  Rhys shot her a look, then turned his attention to Micky. “Forgive me?”

  Micky sighed, stood, and gave the man a quick hug. “You’re a giant tool, but yeah, I forgive you. Hell, if it turns out you were right, I’ll buy you a bouquet of flowers.”

  “Are you guys done making up?” Craig called from the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” Micky called back.

  “Good. Then come back in here and play some frickin’ cards!”

  Chapter Seven

  Hudson was still a block from his house when a smell wafted in through his truck’s window that made him grin and speed up. He pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the cab, filling his lungs with air as he did.

  There were two things Bill was famous for. First was his smile, second was his cooking. His specialty was a curry recipe that he’d learned centuries ago in India from a man who would only teach him if he swore to never tell anyone else. To that day, Hudson had never pried the recipe from him, even after many, many years of trying.

  The smell wafting from Hudson’s house was that dish, and he couldn’t get through the door fast enough.

  Bill stood in the kitchen in front of a number of pots and pans. As Hudson neared, the man turned and waved him away.

  “You know the rules.”

  Hudson groaned and backed away to the door. “You know I could probably work it out just from scent.”

  Bill nodded. “But you won’t.”

  He was right, Hudson would respect his wishes. “Can I at least get a drink?”

  Bill tossed him a beer. “It’ll be ready soon. Go shower or something.”

  The hint was well taken—Hudson could smell the booze on himself—and he trudged upstairs to the bathroom.

  Perhaps it was the memory of the previous night, or simply the fact that he’d been surrounded by cute guys for the evening, but he was horny as hell. Setting the shower to cold didn’t make a difference either. All shifters were less affected by temperature, but even on the absolute coldest settings, Hudson still had a raging hard-on. In the end, he decided to get rid of it the usual way and took a hold of his shaft.

  As he worked, he imagined Micky in the bathroom with him. At first, the man would only watch him, smiling. Then, after a minute or so, he’d begin to pull off his clothes, bending low as he dropped his pants to show off his perfect ass. Naked, he’d step into the shower with Hudson. There wasn’t a great deal of room inside the cubicle, so their cocks would rub as they jostled for position.

  They’d kiss at first, letting their hands explore each other’s bodies. Soon Hudson’s animal side would take over and he’d either push the man to his knees or turn him around. For the purposes of this fantasy, he decided, he’d go for the former.

  He jerked his cock harder and faster as he imagined the man’s face level with his cock. He could imagine Micky being good at giving
head. He had the kind of lips that screamed for a good face-fucking, and Hudson would be happy to oblige.

  Just as Hudson was reaching the point of no return, Bill hammered on the door to the bathroom.

  “You coming?”

  Well, I was…Hudson sighed and turned off the shower. “Be there in a minute.”

  It looked like he’d have to wait for the real Micky. He smirked as he toweled his hair. That wasn’t such a bad thing at all.

  * * * *

  After a terrible night’s sleep, thanks in no small part to Rhys, Micky crawled out of his bed and stared blearily at the alarm clock. Twelve thirty? What the hell? On the bright side, he hadn’t any engagements until later, so it wasn’t like he’d missed anything. Still, he liked to be up earlier, so he didn’t feel like he’d wasted a day.

  For once Laura had not slept over, and he had the house to himself. Not bothering to dress, he headed down the stairs and checked the lock on the front door before walking into the kitchen and pulling some waffles from the freezer.

  Despite his night of alternately worrying and not worrying about Hudson’s mystery friend, he didn’t immediately pick up the phone. The last thing he wanted was for Hudson to think he didn’t trust him.

  That said, though…perhaps surprising the man with some coffee and donuts at his place would be an idea. Even that twisted uncomfortably in Micky’s gut, but he had to know. He thought he trusted Hudson, but really, how well did he know him? Hell, the guy could be married for all Micky knew.

  It was decided, then. He tossed the waffles back into the freezer and headed upstairs to dress.

  The afternoon was warm, so Micky opted for a T-shirt and a pair of three-quarter length pants. He pulled on a pair of shoes, admired himself in the mirror, then crossed the room and pulled open a drawer. Inside, among other similar items, was a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. He ran a finger over the bottle, then decided against it and pushed the drawer shut.