Chapter Twenty–Five

CHAPTER TWENTY–FIVE

W here is Mahricelle.”

As the douchebag with the BMW and the shark suit threw the demand out there, Apex kind of wanted to break the guy’s nose. Just on principle. There was something about tense, entitled assholes that put his hackles up, and God knew he’d already had enough of dealing with Remis back in Caldwell.

Cue the headlights.

Two sets—so unless they were getting more visitors of the unwanted variety, that wolven was returning as well.

“Something tells me she’s back now,” Apex said as he started for the front door.

His arm was taken in a hard grip, and Remis’s eyes were direct to the point of being threatening. “You get her the fuck out of here.”

Apex pointedly looked down at the male’s hand. When it was removed quickly, he was almost disappointed.

“I’m here to do cameras and linkups. That’s it.”

“Fine,” the guy hissed as he took out his wallet. “I’ll pay you.”

Up came a fan of hundreds, and Apex rolled his eyes. “That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it.”

“A thousand dollars. C’mon. Take it—”

“You put that money away right now, or it’s going somewhere other than back in your billfold.” Apex leaned in. “You want her to go, you can talk to her yourself. I’m not doing your dirty work just because you’re waving Benjamin Franklins in my face.”

Remis jabbed his forefinger. “You’re not the only tough guy I know. Be careful. I may call for the kind of reinforcements that can put even someone like you in a choke hold.”

Baring his fangs, Apex growled, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

At that moment, the door opened and the cold came in. Along with Mayhem and Mahrci—

The third figure was identified first by scent, second by sight, and lastly by a sudden thickening behind his button fly that he really could have done without. But, yup, Callum was also entering through that heavy old door, both hands laden with Hannaford bags, limp very noticeable.

Fun fact: Did his wolven side limp, too?

Guess that was more a question.

Mahrci stopped short, even though she had to already know her ex was here, given the car outside—and Callum had to sharply swerve around the female. As the wolven stumbled, he looked up.

Right into Apex’s eyes.

And didn’t that suck all of the oxygen out of the entire house . . . maybe out of a radius of fifteen miles. Meanwhile, as they stared at each other, Apex was vaguely aware of some truly awkward moments unfolding around him, but the Remis drama could wait.

His wolven was the only thing on his radar.

Walking over to Callum, he said, “Let me help you.”

“I’m okay.” The wolven nodded out the front door. “But there’s more in the back of your car.”

“You’re limping worse than you were and need a doctor—”

“No, I’m not and no, I don’t—”

“ — and where the fuck are your clothes?”

They stopped talking and looked over at Remis. The aristocrat was ugly-flushed, and not bothering to hide it as his stare raked up and down the female.

“She looks dressed to me,” Mayhem drawled.

“Who the hell are you?” Remis snapped. Then he poked that stupid finger in Mahrci’s face. “You and I are going to have a talk downstairs. Right now .”

Annnnnnd cue the intervention.

Before Apex knew what he was doing, he stepped in front of Mayhem, clapped grips on those rock-hard biceps, and pinned the other male against the beadboard.

“Easy there,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, I’m not gonna hurt him.”

This was said as Mayhem fixated on Remis like he was already ripping the front of the guy’s throat out with his bare hands.

“Riiiiiiiight—”

“Yes, Remis,” Mahrci cut in roughly as she put the bags she was carrying on the floor. “We do need to talk.”

Leaving all the males behind, she turned away and headed for the stairs into the basement. In her wake, everybody she’d ditched on the first floor had a moment of put-in-their-place. Naturally, the biggest dickhead in the group recovered first.

Remis sniffed a couple of times, like someone had blown pepper in his face. Then he straightened his jacket, popped his cuffs, and headed down after her.

“No,” Apex said as he didn’t move. “Forget it.”

“Step off,” Mayhem demanded. “I’m just going to go get the rest of the groceries.”

“Okay, but let’s make that a team effort.”

On that note, he let go of the guy, and then followed Mr. Helpful out to the Suburban. The second they got back in the door with the last of the bags, Mayhem dropped his load next to the ones Mahrci had left behind—and went for the stairs down into the basement.

“Don’t try to stop me,” he announced. “And no, I’m not doing shit. Unless he does.”

Apex stood there, surrounded by crap he hadn’t bought and had no intention of eating, being filmed by cameras, the feeds of which were going nowhere, and getting stared at by all the glass eyes in those fucking heads . . . and all he could think of was—

“Callum?” he called out.

Picking up some of the bags, he followed the scent of the wolven into the kitchen, and found the male at the counter, unpacking things.

“Mayhem’s gone downstairs,” Apex said as he hefted the groceries up on the counter.

“You couldn’t stop him?”

“Didn’t even try.” He idly started taking things out, paying no attention to what he was throwing around the stainless steel counter. “I don’t want her down there alone with the asshole, anyway. Remis does something stupid, he’s going to get what he deserves.”

Callum stopped. Turned around. “So it’s just you and me.”

Apex found himself halting, too. All of a sudden, everything became crystal clear, almost painfully so, from the boxes of Barilla pasta, the carton of eggs, and the half gallon of milk . . . to the restaurant range with all its burners, the deep stainless steel sink, and the double ovens . . . to the wooden rafters, the aged oak table, and the pans that were stacked in an orderly pile on the shelf above the center island.

Still, only one thing truly registered on him.

Callum was staring across the space, his husky-like eyes gleaming with something that Apex didn’t really trust himself to interpret properly.

“How are you doing?” he heard himself say. “You want some food?”

“I already ate with a friend.”

The stab of jealousy was so ridiculous, he had to laugh.

“Why’s that funny?”

Apex shook his head. “Nothing—no reason.”

Nah, it was just that the universe seemed determined to keep kneeing him in the balls. Like it was any of his business, who the wolven had been—

“Do you know Blade?”

The laughter dried up fast at the name. “Yeah. I know him. Is that who you were with?”

An image of the symphath came to mind, and it was not a welcome one. Apex had run into the striking, highly intelligent—and very dangerous—male down in Caldwell a couple of times in the past decade.

Fucking wonderful.

“His leftovers aren’t bad.” Callum shrugged. “And he gives good advice.”

Apex frowned. “Wait a minute, was he at the prison?”

“He owns it now, I guess. I just met him, so I don’t know the details.”

Linking his arms over his chest, Apex said in a low voice, “And what kind of advice did he give you.”

There was a pause. After which Callum crossed the distance that separated them. “He said I should be with the male I want. He told me . . . the past needs to stay where it happened.”

All the breath in Apex’s lungs left in a slow rush. “Well . . . I agree with him. On both fronts.”

“And you don’t have to ask.”

“Ask what.”

“Who . . . it is I want.” Callum hesitated with his hands just hovering over Apex’s shoulders. “I think it’s you. But I’m just not sure that I can get there . . .”

There was a slice of pain at hearing the confession. Yet it was more than he could ever have hoped for, this opening, this tender, vulnerable chance.

A bloom in winter.

Biting his lower lip with his fangs, Apex swayed. Then he whispered hoarsely, “Touch me, please. Oh, fuck . . . just touch me if you can. Anywhere, I don’t give a fuck.”

The fingertips that trembled over his cheeks, his jaws . . . his mouth and throat . . . were calloused and gentle. And the eyes that watched the exploration were softly focused, as if Callum were witnessing a third party’s movements, rather than directing his own hands.

“What happened to your gold fangs?” the wolven asked.

“I had a vampire dentist take the caps off. I don’t live that life anymore.”

“Oh . . .”

For a moment, Apex wished he’d left things as they were. Assuming the male liked those little mouth daggers.

“I’m sorry,” Callum murmured.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t know what else to say.”

“You don’t have to talk, then.”

When the wolven tilted his head to the side, Apex’s heart rate doubled, but there was no kissing, no meeting of hungry mouths. Instead, the other male’s fingertips continued down onto his neck, and as they hesitated over the jugular, he knew Callum was feeling that pump-pump-pump.

And then the touch went even farther, to his chest. His stomach.

There was no way Apex could hide what was going on at his hips—and just as the thought occurred, a palm cupped his erection.

The pressure on his cock made him hiss and close his eyes—and fuck yes , he finally felt a pair of lips brush the pulse that flickered at the side of his throat.

“You’re so hard,” the wolven groaned.

Apex babbled some kind of response—because holy fucking hell, the male was stroking him through his leathers, feeling his erection, exploring as that mouth nuzzled and sucked at his neck. He couldn’t help it. His hips started thrusting up and back, up and back, so that that palm was turned into a very poor substitute for the kind of friction he really wanted from the male—

At that point, Apex totally lost the plot, and before he could think better of it, he pulled the wolven closer, to feel more, to do more, even though this wasn’t a good place—although hey, there was a pantry with a solid door over there—

Callum let out a strangled sound. Then there were two jerks against Apex’s body, like . . . pumps. And then a scent that there was no forgetting. Ever.

As the wolven went still, Apex released his hold and just stood there, in case there was any panicking.

“I . . .” Callum stepped back and looked down at himself. “I came.”

Apex searched that stark, surprised face. “Yeah, you did—”

The phone going off was just perfect fucking timing really, the vibration in Apex’s ass pocket, the demand from God only knew who, absolutely not welcome as it shattered the moment.

“It’ll go to voicemail.” Apex shoved his hand at the thing and silenced the interruption. “It’s nothing.”

Callum glanced around the kitchen as if he didn’t know where he was. Then his eyes passed over the groceries like he didn’t know what they were.

And of course the fucking phone started ringing again.

“You better get that,” Callum mumbled. “It’s important—”

“You’re important.”

“Will you excuse me? I have . . . to . . .”

The wolven tore off like he was the one having to take a call for work.

Left to his own devices, Apex swung round, braced a hold on the counter, and leaned into his arms. In the silence, the cell phone’s sarcastic purring was like a scream in his ears.