Unattainable [The Wolves of Shade County 1] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Page 7

  “You two need the house tonight?”

  Hudson nodded. “Looks like. We can use his though, if you want to crash.”

  “Nah. In the very unlikely event that I don’t hook up with someone, I’ll stay out of your hair. Looking forward to it?”

  Hudson nodded once more, but Bill could always read him better than he’d like. The man slapped him on the shoulder and smiled.

  “I know it’s been a while, and I know what you’re worried about. You’re not the only old wolf to have this problem.”

  Hudson raised an eyebrow. “You, too?”

  Micky climbed out of the car with the wine, cutting short the conversation, but Bill’s eyes said all that needed to be said. He’d had the same concerns, and had clearly gotten past it, and if he could, then so could Hudson.

  “Ready to meet the reprobates I call friends?” Micky asked.

  Hudson pulled the man close to him and kissed him on the forehead. “Let’s go be sociable.”

  Judging from the noise coming from the house, there were at least a dozen people inside. Hudson could also smell a healthy amount of alcohol, and his years as a bartender allowed him to identify most of it before they even reached the door.

  Micky knocked and Laura greeted them, throwing her arms around him and somehow managing to come away from the hug with both bottles of wine in her hands.

  “Come on in,” she said, moving aside so they could slip past.

  Once inside, the introductions began. Hudson recognized most of the people from the bar and got to put some names to faces. He played the part of Micky’s boyfriend and was friendly and polite, shaking hands with everyone, despite remembering at least two of the men being thrown out of the bar at some point.

  Rhys was one of the last people that Micky introduced, and the man was more than a little sheepish, and rightly so, given his attempt to stir things between Micky and Hudson. He smiled wide and told the man it was a pleasure to meet him and Rhys soon came out of himself.

  As for Laura, Hudson didn’t have much of a chance to talk to her. As soon as she’d laid eyes on Bill, the two had been inseparable. Hudson gave it less than an hour before the two disappeared upstairs.

  Once the introductions were over, the party got back into its groove, and Micky and Hudson found a couple of drinks and a place to sit. Hudson had opted for a beer, but Micky went for a Coke since he was driving. As Rhys passed, Micky waved him over and he came to join the pair. The music was a little loud, but not so much that they couldn’t hear each other talk.

  “So, Micky tells me that you’re a hairdresser,” Hudson said. “Been doing it long?”

  Rhys nodded, then sipped at a beer. “Since I was eighteen, so five years or so.”

  Micky choked on his beer. “More like ten.”

  Rhys rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. More like ten. It’s a fun job, and there’s always someone to talk to.”

  “Like Clara?” Hudson asked.

  He didn’t mean it in a nasty way, but Rhys’s face fell. He composed himself a moment later and nodded.

  “Yeah, that’s where we met, really.”

  “She and I don’t really get on,” Hudson said. “We tried at first, but we’re just different people.”

  “She can be pretty abrasive.” Rhys shrugged. “That’s one of the reasons I like her, though. That, and the witch thing.”

  Hudson tried to keep his expression passive as his stomach lurched. What did Rhys know?

  “Witch thing?” Micky asked, saving Hudson some effort. “You mean she’s into that Wicca stuff?”

  Rhys nodded. “In a big way. She can do stuff, too.” He lowered his voice. “I had a, uh, health issue, and she made it go away. Gave me this little charm and poof, gone.”

  Hudson couldn’t help but frown and sipped his beer to mask it. He and Bill had assumed she was merely related to a witch and not actually a practitioner. The new information was worrying. It meant that if Clara decided to, she could make life very difficult for Hudson. He decided to avoid the topic for the time being, lest it got back to Clara and she thought Hudson was spying on her.

  “So, it looks like my friend Bill likes Laura.”

  The other two men turned to look, and Micky grinned. “Yeah, you could say that. I give it an hour, tops.”

  Hudson smirked. “You read my mind.”

  “He’d better treat her right,” Rhys said. “She’s the lynchpin of our little group.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Micky said. “Without her we’d have nobody to bitch to.”

  “And we’d have to find someone else to steal our booze and sleep on our couches.”

  The two laughed and Hudson joined in with a chuckle, glad he’d steered the conversation back to safer waters. After a few minutes the song changed and Rhys jumped to his feet, announcing that he needed to find someone to dance with. The moment he was gone, Micky sidled up to Hudson, closing the gap between them and resting his hand on Hudson’s thigh.

  “How much longer before it’s acceptable to leave?” Micky said.

  “Got something better to do?”

  “Someone.”

  Hudson laughed. “Since we’ve only been here ten minutes, I’d say we have to give it a little longer.”

  Micky feigned a sigh and pouted. “Fine. Tease.”

  “I’ll make up for it. Promise.”

  What was to come still worried him, but not as much as it had when he’d first met Micky. The pair had fooled around on several occasions now, and Hudson had managed to control himself, and while full sex was a whole other ball game, he was confident he could keep his cool. And if he couldn’t, he doubted Micky would mind. The man loved it rough.

  The thoughts didn’t help the passage of time, and it seemed like the party would never end. Micky did everything he could to make Hudson crack, too, from brushing his hand over Hudson’s cock while they sat and talked to people, to grinding up against him when they danced. After half an hour, Hudson was so frustrated he was about to snap. As Micky moved once again to stroke Hudson through his pants, he grabbed the man’s hand and stood.

  “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice thick.

  A wave of desire came from Micky and he nodded quickly, then turned to look about the room.

  “Where’s Laura? I want to say bye.”

  Hudson took a quick scent of the air. Beneath the overpowering scent of people and booze was an undercurrent that he recognized as Bill’s sweat. He was upstairs with somebody, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who.

  “She’s upstairs with Bill,” he said. “Saw her leave a little while ago.”

  Micky smirked. “Guess she’ll have her hands full by now. I’ll call her later.”

  The two said their good-byes to those who spotted them leaving, then headed outside to Micky’s car. As he pulled out his key and slid it into the lock, Hudson came up behind him, his thickening cock pushing against Micky’s ass, only stopped by a few shreds of clothing. Micky swallowed hard, then unlocked the door and climbed in.

  Hudson joined him a moment later, a smile on his face.

  “What?” Micky asked.

  “We’re finally going to do it,” the man said.

  “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to take it slower.” Micky started the engine. “If I’d had my way, I’d have been riding your cock on the first date.”

  Hudson laughed. “Let’s get back to my place. I have time to make up for.”

  Micky didn’t hesitate and pulled out of the driveway and then turned onto the main road, toward home and a hell of a night.

  The traffic was light at that time, and Micky let his attention wander to the man sat beside him. God, he wanted to pull into the nearest parking spot and mount him, screw whether anyone saw them. He wanted to feel Hudson’s cock push inside him inch by ecstatic inch. He—

  “Micky! Look out!”

  Micky whipped his head back to the road to see a driver on his side of the road. He cried out and wrenched the wheel hard to the lef
t to move out of the other car’s path, but it was too late. They collided in an explosion of pain and sound. The impact stole Micky of all thought, and the last thing he felt was the airbag smashing into his face.

  Chapter Nine

  Micky was moving. His eyes refused to open and his limbs refused to react to his commands, but through his eyelids he saw flashes of bright lights. He’d seen enough hospital shows on TV to know he was being run down a strip-lighted hallway on a stretcher. Voice all around him were shouting. Some with instructions, other with reports that were too muffled to understand. There was a thud as he assumed doors were slammed open to make way for his bed. After a moment of supreme effort, he managed to move an arm, then open his mouth, but he realized there was a tube down his throat.

  “Don’t try to move, Micky.” It was Hudson’s voice, near to his ear. “There was a car crash. We’re in the hospital.”

  He tried to turn his head, to see if Hudson was okay, but a strap across his forehead stopped him.

  “It’s okay,” Hudson said. “Just relax and let the drugs work.”

  Micky tried to respond once more, but the world tilted on its axis and the darkness returned.

  * * * *

  “How is he?”

  Micky stirred as another voice nearby whispered a reply that he couldn’t quite hear. Hospital. We crashed. His eyes snapped open and he tried to get up, to find Hudson. Was he okay? How could he have been if the crash had put Micky in a hospital bed?

  Straps across his arms and middle stopped his movement. Footsteps approached quickly.

  “Micky, it’s me. You’re okay.”

  Hudson leaned over him and Micky’s eyes blurred with tears. The man was in considerably better shape than Micky, given that he was walking around. A nasty cut split the man’s left eyebrow in half, marring his otherwise perfect face.

  “What happened?” Micky asked, his voice barely more than a croak.

  “A drunk driver,” Hudson said, clearly angry. “He was on the wrong side of the road, and was going too fast to avoid.”

  Flashes of the previous night returned. Hudson had been in the passenger seat, and Micky had been paying more attention to him than the road. Hudson must have read his expression, and shook his head.

  “No. This wasn’t your fault. This was the jackass in the other car.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” Hudson ran his thumb over Micky’s cheek. “We’ll get through this.”

  Micky nodded as well as he could. Whatever drugs he was on, they had removed most of the pain he figured he should be feeling. Even accounting for that, though, he knew something else was wrong.

  “Hudson?”

  “You should be resting. We can talk later.”

  Micky shook his head. “No, this is important.”

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t feel my legs.”

  * * * *

  Over the next few hours, a host of doctors and nurses came in and out of Micky’s room to take blood, test, and retest. Hudson sat on the chair beside the bed the whole time, watching mutely.

  He should have driven. If he’d been driving, his reactions may have gotten them out of the way in time, or at least mitigated the damage. He’d been so wrapped up in Micky that he hadn’t even heard the other car’s engine. And now Micky was lying in a hospital bed with more injuries than the doctors could count. What’s more, it looked like he was paralyzed from the waist down.

  Hudson ducked his head and stared at his hands. His own wounds were already healing, including the cracked ribs, but Micky wouldn’t be so lucky. Or would he? He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, then turned his attention back to the room.

  The man who had crashed into them had miraculously walked away with only a broken arm and minor wounds. If there hadn’t been witnesses on the streets, he wouldn’t have walked away at all. The injustice burned in Hudson’s gut, leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Footsteps came clattering down the corridor outside. Hudson took a sniff to find it was Bill and Laura. They burst into the room a moment later, Laura gasping for air, her makeup destroyed by her tears. For once, Bill wasn’t smiling.

  “Micky!”

  She moved to the bed but Bill held her back. “Let him rest. He’s been through a lot.”

  A nurse appeared in the doorway behind them and looked sternly at the pair. “Unless you’re family, you should not be in here. The same goes for you,” she said, nodding at Hudson.

  Laura fixed her with a glare. “This man does not have any family nearby, and if you think we’re going to let him wake up alone, you’re very mistaken.”

  The nurse held her stare for a moment, then nodded, her stern exterior dissipating and leaving only a sympathetic smile. “Just don’t wake him, okay?”

  She left and Laura turned to Hudson. “What happened?”

  He explained the accident from the start, but left out Micky’s paralysis. By the end, Laura’s tears had returned, and she leaned into Bill, who held her close. His attention was on Hudson, and his look was easy to read—there was a way out of this.

  Micky stirred, coughing hard, and Hudson rose to hold his water glass for him. Micky sucked a little through the straw, then nodded and Hudson took it away once more.

  “Looks like I have my own little party,” Micky said, his voice cracked.

  Laura moved to his other side, her hand on top of his. “How are you feeling?”

  “Glad for the invention of morphine.” He coughed again, but shook his head when Hudson moved to give him water. “Did the doctor come back?”

  “He did,” Hudson said. “It’s not good news.”

  Micky simply nodded, then closed his eyes. “You don’t need to spell it out.”

  Hudson held the man’s other hand and blinked away the onset of tears. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I know.”

  The three sat with Micky for a time, exchanging small talk and letting him sleep when he needed to. After a while, Bill stood and put his hand on Laura’s shoulder.

  “Come on, Micky needs his rest.”

  She was reluctant, but finally agreed and stood, leaning over to kiss Micky softly on the forehead. As she and Bill left, he turned back to Hudson and nodded once, again making his feelings on the subject clear.

  Once Micky and Hudson were alone again, Micky turned and smiled.

  “I guess this delays the sex, huh?”

  Hudson chuckled, though it was forced. “We need to talk.”

  Micky’s smile faded. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to break up with me while I’m in a hospital.”

  “No, not at all.” Hudson squeezed Micky’s hand. “Never that.”

  Micky breathed out. “Good. This won’t be an easy road, though. I’d understand if you wanted to—”

  “That’s not who I am, Micky.” Hudson let out a breath of his own. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be hard.”

  Micky frowned. “Pretty sure this won’t go away with a little holistic therapy, honey.”

  “Not holistic, no.” Hudson glanced away for a second. “But there is a way.”

  “What way?”

  “This is going to take some explaining.” He stood and walked to the door, closing it softly before returning to the chair. “Remember how we talked about Clara being a witch?”

  “You think she could fix my spine?” Micky’s skepticism was clear.

  “No, witches can’t heal this much damage. They aren’t the only supernatural creatures out there, though.”

  Micky licked his cracked lips. “I had wondered how you managed to walk away from the accident with barely a cut.”

  Hudson’s stomach lurched. Micky had caught on quicker than he’d anticipated, and it put his prepared speech in the trash. He decided to take the bull by the horns instead.

  “I’m a shapeshifter, Micky. More accurately, a wolf shifter.” He continued before Micky could respond. “I’m stronger and faster than a r
egular human, I’m immune to disease and illness, and I heal from wounds a lot quicker.”

  Micky was silent for a moment. “So you’re saying a shifter could heal this?”

  Hudson nodded. “The time taken would vary depending on the age of the shifter, but yes. A shifter can heal from almost anything.”

  He’d dropped enough of a hint that he hoped he wouldn’t have to spell things out any more. Every word hurt him. He’d made a promise a long time ago to never bring another shifter into the world. Especially one he loved.

  Micky went silent once more, and this time for a lot longer. Just as Hudson was starting to think the man had fallen asleep, he spoke.

  “So I have a choice. I can live on like this, or I can, what, become a werewolf?”

  Hudson flinched at the term, but nodded. “Essentially. I could pass on the curse, and the healing would begin within hours.”

  Micky nodded slowly, then closed his eyes. “I need to think about this. Alone.”

  The last word tore at Hudson’s heart. “Of course. I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hudson slipped outside and closed the door behind him. Despite his best efforts, this time he couldn’t stop the tears.

  * * * *

  The day moved slowly for Micky and got worse as it went on. More doctors appeared, or possibly the same one multiple times, to poke at him, and he was whisked off for at least one more x-ray. He tried to sleep through as much as he could. Given how much was on his mind, however, all the drugs in the world couldn’t keep him out for long.

  The prognosis seemed certain. The crash had practically destroyed several vertebrae in his lower spine and had damaged the spinal cord itself, leaving him at least temporarily paralyzed from the waist down. Even if he recovered some use of his legs, he was told he’d likely never walk again.

  On top of that, his boyfriend was a werewolf. Or thought he was. Micky wasn’t sure which was more worrying. He’d never pegged the man for delusional, and, well, if he was honest he had heard rumors about the supernatural. Everyone had. It also explained the man’s miraculous recovery, too, as Micky had pointed out.