12. Fang Takes Care Of Wren

12

FANG TAKES CARE OF WREN

"Wren." Fang's voice drew him back from the knife edge of anxiety. A large hand covered his, twining their fingers together. "Don't blame yourself for it."

"But—"

"Calm down. Remove the spell. Can you do that?"

Wren did his best to ignore his buzzing nerves. He breathed in deep and clutched Fang's fingers, reaching out with his senses.

No wonder he hadn't noticed it—the tracking spell was faint, barely there, and unnoticeable unless you were looking hard.

Carefully, he poked at the energy strings gluing the spell to the car. He wrote a counter-spell on the dashboard to reverse the binding and burn away the magic. Then he pushed his own magic through the runes, his insides straining with the effort. He coughed.

But the counter-spell swept through Fang's car, and Wren felt the magical beacon wink out of existence.

Relief flickered through his chest. "It's gone."

He reached out with his magic, though, trying to see if there was another threat.

A hand landed on his thigh, squeezing roughly. "Wren," Fang growled. "Stop. You need to rest. I've asked enough of you."

Wren shook his head, forcing his eyes to stay open. "Safety first."

"Not at the cost of your own life!"

"I won't die from this," Wren panted.

" Rest, " Fang growled. "You were worn out yesterday, too. I promise we'll be at the apartment by nightfall."

"But who'll keep you safe?" It was unfair, how Wren's eyelids were growing heavier by the second.

"I'll keep you safe. It'll be enough."

"But—"

Fang growled low in his throat. It was a sound that went straight through Wren's insides, and made him want to obey.

"I want to see your wolf form," Wren mumbled. "There wasn't enough time to see it properly."

"I'll show it to you, I promise. When we've reached your apartment and you've had some time to rest."

Wren made a face.

"I'll let you touch me."

Wren sucked in a slow breath. "O-okay."

"Now, sleep." Fang brushed his fingers through Wren's hair. It felt so comforting that Wren leaned in instinctively, seeking more.

Somehow, he fell asleep. He woke some time later when the car was quiet around them, the hum of slow traffic filling the space.

"It's lunchtime," Fang murmured, his warm knuckles skating down Wren's neck. "Want to wake up for some food?"

Wren grew aware of the tantalizing scents around him. Something fried, something savory. He cracked his eyes open and found a few packages spread across the dashboard: fries, wrapped sandwiches, and even fountain drinks in the cup holders.

"Smoked beef briskets," Fang said. "I've already had one. It's good. You should try it."

Wren sucked in a deeper breath and blinked himself awake. He realized then that his seatbelt had been unbuckled, his seat reclined just the same as yesterday.

Fang handed him a warm sandwich, its crinkly wrapper folded down so he could take a bite.

The bread was soft, the lettuce crisp. The tomato was thick and cool against his tongue. But the beef brisket—that was a hefty pile of thinly-sliced meat, tender and juicy with a delightful smoky flavor that made Wren moan.

"Oh, gods," he whimpered. "Can we come here on the way back?"

Fang's smile was all satisfaction. "Of course."

Wren inhaled half the burger. He tried one of the fountain drinks—some fizzy lemony thing, and tried the other. Root beer.

"I wasn't sure what drink you like," Fang said. "Should've mentioned it while we were playing Twenty Questions."

Wren laughed; Fang's smile grew warmer. "I like lemonade. The fizzy lemon drink is good."

He ate more slowly, squirming around in his seat to check on Steffie.

"I fed and changed her," Fang said.

Wren's eyes grew round. "Y-you did?"

"Didn't want to wake you." Fang lowered his gaze, shrugging. "But tell me if I shouldn't have. I can wake you up the next time."

Wren bit his lip. "You didn't have to. She's my responsibility."

Fang looked a little shifty. "We need your strength back just in case we run into more trouble on the trip. I'd rather you slept more to recover."

Wren searched his face. Fang seemed concerned, so Wren didn't push too much. But he couldn't help getting the feeling that there was more Fang wasn't telling him.

He popped a curly fry into his mouth and chewed.

"How safe is the apartment?" Fang asked.

"I have wards set up there. We'll be safe."

"Good." Fang's gaze lingered on Wren, stroking over his face like a lover's touch. Then it wandered down his body as though Fang was slowly, methodically undressing him in his mind, and Wren's nerves hummed with anticipation.

But now wasn't a good time to start anything.

Wren checked on Steffie, who was gnawing on a rattle. Then he looked around. "Um, where's our cart?"

Fang huffed. " Your cart. It's squeaking around the back of the car."

Wren could barely see it from where he was. So he lowered the window and pushed his body halfway out, reaching for his new friend. "Hey. Come over here. Let me see if you got knocked around."

The shopping cart skidded over excitedly, flipping its front wheels side to side. Wren grinned. He ran his hands over the cart just to make sure it was fine, patting it gently. "You're a good cart."

The cart squeaked even louder.

Back in the car, Fang laughed. "That cart really likes you."

"We should give it a name."

"Mm-hmm," Fang said. He sounded distracted.

When Wren squirmed back into the car, he found Fang dragging his gaze back up... from his ass. Oh, gods, had his ass been in Fang's face the whole time?

Fang's cheeks turned pink. "You were... in a very compromising position."

Wren blushed, too. It felt so good to have someone like Fang looking at him as though he was desirable. "It's your cart too, you know. Not just mine."

Fang raised an eyebrow.

"You helped to save it," Wren said.

"I merely stopped the car to let you befriend it."

"I bet you kept it safe on the way here."

Fang shrugged, but he couldn't meet Wren's gaze.

"You did," Wren whispered in awe. "You were watching out for it the whole time."

"I didn't want you to be upset if it got hurt."

Feeling daring, and a little mischievous, Wren said, "It'll be so sad to hear you don't care about it."

Fang frowned. "Fine. I care about that cart of yours."

The cart made louder squeaking sounds outside Wren's window. Wren beamed. "Do you want to be cart-dads with me?"

Both of them froze. Fang pushed a curly fry into Wren's mouth. "We'll leave that discussion for another time, Birdie."

But they didn't look away from each other, even as Wren chewed and swallowed his fry.

Fang's gaze dipped to Wren's mouth; he licked his lips.

Without a word, Fang cupped Wren's jaw, sliding his calloused thumb over Wren's lower lip. It left a trail of tingles across his skin.

"So beautiful," Fang whispered.

"M-me?"

Fang opened his mouth to speak, his gaze flicking between Wren's eyes, and his lips.

Before he could answer, an orange glow lit up the backseat.

Steffie.

The glow faded the next second. But it left a toddler-sized bird in the child seat, chirping and flapping her exquisite golden plumage.

"Oh, gods," Wren whispered. "Not right now, Steffie."

They exchanged a look of panic.

"Roll up the windows," Fang said sharply. "Time to get going."

Wren patted his shopping cart's steel basket. "C'mon, we're heading on another adventure. Follow close behind, okay?"

The cart flipped its wheels. Wren could only give it a tiny bit of his attention as he scanned the parking lot for signs that someone had noticed.

Fang shoved their uneaten food into a paper bag. Then he started up the car and drove slowly out of the restaurant's parking lot, as though nothing really incriminating had just happened.

Steffie chirped and flapped her wings, demanding attention.

"I have to get in the backseat," Wren said. "I don't think she'll stop calling for me until I do."

"Do it now," Fang said. "Before we're on the highway going eighty miles an hour."

Wren fumbled his way into the backseat, wincing when he accidentally kicked Fang in the side. "Sorry!" But he managed to drop into the seat next to Steffie, carefully touching the delicate crown of feathers on her head.

Steffie ruffled her feathers and made happy clicking sounds; Wren had to scoop her into his arms, cuddling her.

She was lighter than her human self. Warm, too, with shimmering orange-gold feathers. Her tail feathers fanned out, covered in light orange markings, and Wren suspected that they would only grow more intricate with time.

"You're such a pretty bird," he whispered.

"She really is," Fang agreed.

Steffie stretched her wings the next moment, flapping them and whacking his nose. "Hey!"

She twittered. Up front, Fang snorted.

"Not funny," Wren grumbled. But he managed to get her to the other side of the backseat, behind Fang, so at least she wouldn't flap her way to the front and smack Fang in the face.

"I don't know how to care for her when she's like this," Wren admitted. "I'm scared I'll mess up."

Fang met his gaze through the rearview mirror. "We can do some research. Ask around. But I think you're doing well, Birdie. You care for her, which means you'll try your best to catch anything that shouldn't be happening."

Wren shrugged. "Maybe. I can't catch everything."

He hugged Steffie and rocked her to sleep, before wrapping her up in a blanket—just in case she squirmed free and tried to fly inside the car.

When he was sure she wouldn't wake up for a while, he clambered back into the passenger seat, staring at the road ahead.

Just that the longer he sat, the more his fatigue and anxiety caught up with him. Wren sagged, fidgeting against the window.

"Hey," Fang murmured. "Put on your seatbelt."

Wren grabbed the strap with shaking hands, trying a few times before he succeeded in clicking it.

"How are you feeling?" Fang asked, concerned.

"Anxious. Afraid something's gonna go wrong."

Fang frowned and reached over, grasping Wren's thigh with a large hand. He stroked Wren back and forth, back and forth, a light pressure that felt safe.

Ever so slowly, Wren's fear seeped out of him. Most of it, anyway.

"I'm anxious almost all the time," Wren admitted. "Even when I try my best not to think about anything scary. I think there's something wrong with my head."

Fang frowned. "Have you tried anything to keep it to a minimum? Pills or wearable suppressants?"

Wren blinked. He hadn't even realized that maybe there was something he could do about it. "Not really."

"Okay. I'll look into it. I don't want to buy something from a random magic shop without doing some research first. But I promise to keep you safe, all right? No matter what. If anything worries you, or threatens you, just call me and I'll be there."

Wren swallowed. Fang would take care of him and Steffie. If things got bad, his phone's GPS would tell their friends where they were.

None of this guaranteed that they would stay alive, but it gave Wren hope. "Okay. Thank you."

Fang smiled and turned on the radio. "Pick a station."

"I don't know which." Wren dug his fingers into the seat, then pried them off in case he accidentally scratched it somehow.

He watched as Fang adjusted the dial, filling the silence with cheerful pop music. It still didn't match what he felt. But Fang was trying, and Wren had to try, too. He made himself breathe. He had to rebuild his reserve of magic.

"Here." Fang took Wren's wrist and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there.

Wren stopped breathing. Fang was still driving, still watching the road.

But he pressed kisses across Wren's palm, up his fingers to his fingertips.

For a long while, Fang just held Wren's fingers against his soft mouth. His breath rushed warm over Wren's skin. Then he parted his lips and took Wren's first two fingers inside.

All Wren could feel was wet and warm. The blunt edges of Fang's teeth grazed his skin, and a hot, silky pressure—Fang's tongue—flicked against his fingertips.

Wren's mind went blank. As though this wasn't something that shook Wren's world, Fang sealed his mouth around Wren's fingers, and began to suck.

Wren's thoughts crashed together. He made a choked sound.

He'd never been touched like that before.

Fang dragged his tongue from the edge of Wren's palm up to his fingertips. He slid between Wren's fingers slowly, sensually, and licked around them as though he was in no hurry to be anywhere.

"Um," Wren panted. What would Fang's tongue feel like further south?

Fang smiled, his eyes on the road. "Does that help?"

"Y-yes."

"Good," Fang rumbled, his voice vibrating through Wren's hand. He alternated between slow, long sucks, and quick, shallow pulls.

He was a wolf, capable of killing. And yet he held Wren so gently, as though he would never hurt Wren at all.

Wren gulped, his heart thumping.

He didn't know how long Fang held his fingers in his mouth. All he knew was his anxiety ebbing away, a low thrum of arousal lingering between his thighs. He calmed down enough that he began to feel sleepy again.

Fang released Wren's fingers, licking them clean. "Finish your sandwich."

Wren's fingertips were wrinkled now, and they smelled like Fang. He sniffed surreptitiously at them when he took his hand back. Did he dare...?

He peeked at Fang. Fang wasn't looking.

So Wren licked his fingertips, tasting Fang on his skin.

"I can do more of that later," Fang murmured.

When Wren turned back, he found Fang watching him from the corner of his eye. Oh, gods! His entire face grew hot. "Um."

Fang grinned. "Finish your sandwich."

Wren found his half-eaten sandwich and stuffed it into his mouth. It was lukewarm now, but still good enough that he moaned when the flavors hit his tongue.

"I would like to hear that again," Fang said, his lips twitching. "I'd love to kiss that sound off your lips."

Wren's face wouldn't stop burning. "Um... Tonight?"

"Yes." Fang's smile grew, slow but certain. "I would like to spread you wide open and swallow you whole."

"O-oh." A very good feeling slid through Wren's body. Except instead of fading, it kindled inside him like an ember catching on dry wood. The feeling swelled and ate through his insides, radiating outward from his middle, licking through his chest and between his legs. It kept burning hotter; it developed a pulse of its own, until he felt as though he was on fire everywhere under his skin.

When he glanced over, Wren realized that Fang's pupils had dilated a little.

"I think you're going into heat," Fang said.