Paul saw him as he had been the night before, naked and hot, writing beneath him as he offered Paul his throat. Yes, mon amour. Take what you need…
“You want what? Go on, spit it out.”
“I want…” Laurent. The name hovered on the tip of his tongue and to his horror, Paul almost spoke it out loud. Making a massive effort to get past the image his brain insisted on showing him, he forced himself to go on. “Maybe I want my own place.
Where I can build bikes all day instead of fixing the greasy old junkers people bring in.”
It was a thought he’d had for a long time but this was the first time he’d ever come out and said it. Paul didn’t know why he was picking now for the confrontation— maybe he was just trying to talk about anything but the vampire and what he and Laurent had done the night before—but somehow the words just came out.
“Your own place? Are you shitting me?” His father laughed angrily. “You don’t know anything about running a business. You’re too busy howling at the moon and marking your territory to learn the first thing about making a bike shop work.”
“Yeah? Well you’re not exactly making me want to stick around and spend some quality father-son time right about now,” Paul shot back. Straddling his bike, he kicked it to life. His father was shouting something else but the loud purr of the motorcycle’s engine drowned him out. “What?” Paul cupped a hand to his ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you. Guess we’ll have to talk about it later.”
His father turned red in the face and started stalking across the garage toward him, still shouting, but Paul didn’t give the older man a chance to get in his face. He gunned the engine and roared out into the deepening twilight instead, letting the powerful bike take him away from the old argument, the old pain.
Dios. He shook his head as the wind blew through his hair and calmed him down somewhat. The fight with his father wasn’t the first of its kind and wouldn’t be the last.
What really bothered him was the way Laurent had popped into his brain and wouldn’t leave. What’s wrong with me? I almost said his name. Almost told on myself. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why won’t he get out of my head?
His brain was at it again as he drove mechanically to the Locas hideout. All he could see was Laurent. The vampire was taking off his shirt—his pale, smooth chest, while not as heavily muscled as Paul’s own, was still distractingly beautiful. Laurent’s nipples were a pale, pale pink and Paul found himself wondering how sensitive they were. He hadn’t had a chance to suck them before but he wondered if Laurent would like that— like having his mouth there. Stop it, stop it! Stop thinking like that. It’s wrong—he’s wrong and anyway you’re not gay. Forget him!
But he couldn’t.
By the time he got to the bungalow in Liberty City he was completely twisted in knots. He kept seeing Laurent in his head—there and then gone the next moment but always popping up again. It was like his brain was a radio with a bad connection that could only tune in to a certain station. If Paul could have, he would have stayed away from the pack until he could get whatever the hell was wrong with him cleared up. But he couldn’t miss the challenge or he forfeited his place as second wolf to Chulo.
Paul parked his bike and squared his shoulders as he tromped up the sagging front steps. Just have to go in there and get it over with quick. Kick his ass and leave. He was concentrating so hard on getting the job done and over with so he could get out fast that he almost didn’t see Mercedes until she slid out of the shadows and insinuated herself between him and the doorway.
“Well, well, Skulls. How are you feeling?”
Her sudden appearance snapped Paul back to reality. “How do you think I’m feeling, you bruja?”
Her eyes widened as she searched the spot where she’d scratched him. “A hell of a lot better than you should be.” She raised a hand to his cheek but Paul caught her wrist and squeezed it hard.
“Uh-uh. Keep your fucking hands off me, puta. ”
“Let me go.” She squeezed her trapped hand into a fist and hissed at him like an angry cat.
Paul let go of her wrist and glared at her. “From now on you don’t put hands on me. The next time you touch me I’m going to forget everything my stepmother taught me about being nice to girls. You got it?”
“Cabron. Go fuck yourself.”
“Whatever.” Paul pushed past her into the bungalow. He wasn’t a bit surprised to see the entire pack gathered in the small living room again but at least this time Angel was there too.