Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

They'd made it down to the Ritz-Carlton lobby after the afternoon meeting in Wade's penthouse suite when Saoirse abruptly stopped walking and spun around to face him. Riordan nearly tripped over his feet to stop himself from crashing into her.

"Go back upstairs," Saoirse said, jabbing her finger into his chest.

"What?" Riordan asked dumbly.

"You're fixated ." Her gaze softened, even if the next jab of her fingers was just as hard as the first. "Donal is going to drive me home while you spend time with Wade."

Riordan opened his mouth and made a strangled-sounding noise. "I'm not fixated!"

Saoirse rolled her eyes. "Please. You fed him, and you couldn't keep your eyes off him during lunch. Go back upstairs."

"How am I supposed to get back home, then? We're not traveling alone."

"Have Wade drop you off. Or don't come home," Donal said, raising one eyebrow.

Riordan palmed his face and groaned. "I'm fine ."

"You are twitchy as hell, boyo."

"My jacket is at home."

"That's not it, and you know it." Donal thumped him on the shoulder before shoving him around and giving him a push back toward the private elevator they'd come down in. "Give Wade a call. He'll let you come back up."

His terrible, interfering siblings left Riordan alone in the lobby of the hotel, and he couldn't find it in himself to run after them. The idea of staying caught in his thoughts made him turn on his feet and head back to the private elevator accessible only by a key card he didn't have. But he did have Wade's phone number now, and he only hesitated a second before calling.

"Hey," Wade said in that cheerful voice of his. "Did you forget something?"

"No, but can I come up anyway?"

"Sure, I'll come down and get you."

Wade ended the call, and Riordan shoved his phone into his back pocket, ignoring the way he could feel the eyes of the man at the concierge desk staring at him. Riordan's clan had money, and his siblings had more than that with their pub business, but they weren't flashy with it. Riordan knew he didn't look like he was wealthy, but he'd never get to the level that Wade was casually comfortable with.

All thoughts of money and not belonging fled his mind when the elevator doors pinged open and Wade stepped out with a smile and smelling like the cookies he'd devoured at the tail end of the meeting. "Did you still have something you wanted to discuss?"

"Not about Niall. I was wondering if you had any other food spots on your list? I could take you there if you do."

Wade tilted his head, some of his dark brown hair flopping across his forehead. "Are you even hungry?"

"Not really, but I don't mind feeding you."

He didn't tell Wade it was a courting aspect of the kin, that offering food was a way to show he could take care of the other man. To prove that he could give as opposed to take . That if Wade were a selkie, then his sealskin would be safe in Riordan's hands.

Wade didn't know that—couldn't know that—not with Niall having cornered Riordan's clan. But Riordan could pretend, for however long they had together here in Boston, that this fixation could turn into something more.

It would be a nice dream if he had to trade his skin for Saoirse's. Something to keep him company in whatever nightmare Niall had planned.

"I eat a lot," Wade warned, the fingers of his right hand tapping against his thigh.

"I'm aware," Riordan said dryly. "I don't mind."

Wade beamed at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Is it walkable, or do you need air-conditioning because you'll wilt like a flower?"

Riordan scoffed at him, reaching out to ruffle his fingers through Wade's hair because not touching him right now was impossible. "You're driving."

Wade ducked his head but didn't try to step back. "That means you're playing tour guide."

"Gladly."

"I want lobster rolls this time."

"Okay."

"Lots of them."

"I saw how many tacos you ate." Riordan took Wade's hand and didn't let himself think about the implications of doing so, turning back toward the main lobby and the hotel exit, tugging Wade after him. "I'm taking you to James Hook."

"Like in Peter Pan? Is this a Disney-themed restaurant?"

"What? No. It's a Boston institution."

"My niece would be so disappointed."

"Is she into Disney movies?"

"Yes," Wade said vehemently before proceeding to talk all about her favorite ones and the tea parties they'd have while waiting for the valet to bring the car around. He clearly adored his niece, even if there was no blood relationship involved. But pack, much like clan, wasn't always based on the family one was born into but the one you chose.

The valet pulled up in Wade's rental and handed over the keys. Riordan was forced to let Wade go so they could get in the car and on the road. Inside, even with the air-conditioning running, he could sense the warmth that Wade exuded, a heat that made Riordan want to soak it up.

"You can plug in the address," Wade said.

Riordan reached for the screen on the dashboard. "Head east. It's near where we had lunch."

"You act like I know this city."

Riordan bit down on what he wanted to say— I wish you did —and shrugged. "I won't lead you astray."

"That wasn't in doubt."

Wade glanced at him, sunglasses nowhere to be found, gaze open and curious before he returned his attention to the road. "Why'd you come back? It couldn't be just to feed me."

Riordan stared straight ahead and fought the urge to lay his hand over Wade's thigh. He didn't have that right. "I gave an order to my clan that no one travels alone right now. You don't have anyone with you."

Wade chuckled, but it didn't sound as if he was laughing at Riordan. "Trust me. There isn't anything Niall could throw at me that I wouldn't be able to win against."

He didn't smell like magic or werecreature or any of the numerous creatures that made humanity fear the dark. Wade came across as completely human to every single one of Riordan's senses just then—but he remembered that scuffle in Beacon Hill and the weight of a presence that could only be described as predatory.

Wade wasn't human, but he was kind. In Riordan's long-lived experience, that was worth everything.

"You still shouldn't be alone," Riordan said.

"Then I guess it's a good thing you decided to continue playing tour guide."

"I'm always up for showing off Boston."

"So how come you don't want to go back to Ireland?"

"My clan is safer here. And we like Boston."

It had the Boston Harbor and the vast Atlantic Ocean beyond it. Maybe it didn't have the green hills of Ireland, but there was something to be said for the redbrick homes and Fenway Park, the universities and the way the city looked when it snowed.

Boston was home now, and Riordan had made his peace with that years ago.

"I like New York City. I mean, I like cities in general, but Manhattan? That's home with my pack."

Riordan nodded shallowly, thinking of his clan. "Yeah. I get that."

The drive to James Hook it told him more than he thought Wade realized.

He had to force his voice to stay quiet, to hold back the fury he felt at whoever had hurt Wade in the past to make him react like this. "Are you all right?"

Wade raised his hand to touch his lips, brow furrowed, not looking at Riordan. His breathing had eased some, but Riordan wasn't going to try to crowd him. "Is that what it's supposed to feel like when you kiss someone?"

The words were a mutter, not really directed to Riordan, but they were the catalyst for a fury that sluiced through him like a riptide. "Who hurt you?"

Wade raised his head, blinking at him in surprise, as if he'd forgotten Riordan was there with him. He stared at Riordan, eyes wide, and for a second, Riordan thought his pupils had changed shape.

Wade laughed a little weakly, waving off Riordan's question. "It's nothing. Can we try that again?"

"It's something."

"Just a memory."

Considering the memory had Wade jerking out of his arms, Riordan knew he was going to have to be careful with touch going forward. "Are you sure you want to try kissing me again?"

"Yes." Wade spoke quickly, but there wasn't any scent of fear in the air between them—nothing sour or bitter. He could've been hiding it, putting up a front that Riordan wouldn't be able to see through. Only Wade was looking at him with a curious sort of longing in those brown eyes that Riordan didn't have it in himself to deny.

He stepped closer, easing into Wade's space. Riordan framed Wade's face with one hand, amazed at how warm he felt, like he'd been soaking in sunlight the way a cat might. This time, Riordan kissed Wade with a carefulness that deepened slowly, letting Wade set the pace. Fingers curled around the fabric of his T-shirt, Wade's palm pressing against his chest. He thought, for a moment, Wade was going to pull him closer.

But then Wade shoved him away with a strength that had Riordan nearly falling to the ground in shock, arms windmilling, the remnants of his ice-cream cone going flying. "What?—"

Something hot and sharp skimmed across his rib cage. A burning, hideous pain stabbed through his chest, and Riordan curled around the wound iron had made in him with a shocked gasp.

Wade lashed out, hand a blur as he gripped air and yanked —and a dagger fell to the ground, clattering over the pathway. He snarled, fingers—no, claws —digging into something Riordan couldn't see until he did. Glamour peeled away from Wade's claws, the bright, rainbow lines of magic sloughing off like a weaving coming undone.

The fae held in Wade's grip was dressed in jeans, a Boston Bruins T-shirt, and leather gloves, sharply pointed ears poking out of his shoulder-length honey-colored hair. The fae's other hand was a blur as he reached for the knife on his belt, but it never connected. Wade opened his mouth and belched a literal plume of fire directly in the fae's face, eradicating their head.

Riordan stared in stunned silence at the red scales crawling up Wade's neck and jaw, spreading across his cheeks. More red scales pushed through the skin of his forearms, shining in the sunlight as he shoved the corpse over the side of the railing. A distant splash told Riordan it had made it to the water.

When Wade turned to face him, those brown eyes Riordan had enjoyed staring into were now a vivid gold, bisected by reptilian pupils, and Wade's teeth, when he scowled, were more like fangs. That pressure in the air Riordan remembered from Beacon Hill was back, like he was kneeling before something huge, even if all he could see was Wade.

The fae was dead.

Riordan had an iron wound in his side.

All of that was secondary to the visceral truth Riordan couldn't deny—that Wade was a dragon .

No wonder Carmen called him fledgling.

He blinked, and in that scant second, the scales on Wade's body disappeared, and his eyes were back to that particular shade of brown Riordan had found so arresting.

"Riordan!" Wade cried out, rushing over to him. "You're hurt!"

The cut along his ribs ached, and he knew without needing to look that the skin around the wound would be bubbling up like a bad burn. "I'm all right."

Wade made a face. "You know, when my pack says dumb shit like that, I don't believe them, so I'm not going to believe you."

Riordan gently grabbed Wade's wrist, giving it a careful squeeze. "Not the time. You killed a fae in public."

Wade scowled. "Do you think I'd let the asshole hurt you?"

"No. Never. But Wade, someone probably saw that." The Harborwalk wasn't empty, and while it wasn't peak tourist season, someone had to have seen the attack.

Wade shook his head, his other hand already tugging at Riordan's shirt. "No one ever sees me if I don't want them to these days. Let me look at your wound."

"After we get out of here." Riordan let go of Wade and shoved himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the burning pain that erupted along his ribs with every brush of his T-shirt against the wound. Such a shallow cut would be ignorable if it hadn't come from a blade made of iron.

"Are you like a werecreature where you shift and the wound goes away?" Wade asked as he scrambled to his feet.

Riordan hesitated before nodding. "Similar, yes. But it's harder to heal from iron."

A brief flash of incandescent rage swept over Wade's eyes, turning them gold for half a second. "I should've eaten the bastard."

Riordan really shouldn't have felt so pleased about that reaction. "It would've been better if you'd left him alive. We could have questioned him."

Wade scoffed. "In my experience, people like that fae don't ever talk when cornered. It's not worth the headache. He was probably working for Niall."

"Making assumptions won't help us."

Wade sidled in close on Riordan's good side, and Riordan took the opportunity to sling his arm over Wade's shoulders. He didn't really need the assistance, but he wasn't going to deny himself the chance to hold Wade close. "It's not an assumption. Lady Caith knows what pack I belong to, and she knows the alliances we brokered before the Battle of Samhain that brought Brigid into the fight. She won't go against me, which means she won't go against you or Ella because she knows doing that will piss me off. That leaves Niall the bastard."

Riordan couldn't fault his reasoning. "He is a bastard."

"Yup. Now, let's get you home."

Luckily, the wound wasn't deep or bleeding very much. Riordan didn't leave a blood trail back to the car or stain the leather once Wade deposited him in the seat. The ache of the cut and the iron burn was impossible to ignore. Riordan gritted his teeth during the entire drive back home in South Boston while Wade chatted away at him, worried and nervous in equal measure it seemed like.

They were almost home when Riordan finally gave in to his own desire to calm Wade down by reaching over to settle his hand on Wade's thigh. The younger man cut off midsentence, head snapping around to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Watch the road," Riordan cajoled in a low voice through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

"I still don't believe you."

He'd be better once he slathered the wound with the salve he and his siblings kept in their first aid kit. A first aid kit that Saoirse met them with at the door once they finally got inside the house, having been warned in advance by a text from Wade.

"Niall's trying to murder you now," Saoirse said, her face pale and eyes haunted.

"I think it was a warning," Riordan grunted as Wade deposited him on the living room couch with easy strength.

"Some warning. Get your shirt off. Donal's bringing down your skin."

Riordan was going to take his shirt off the normal way, but Wade did it for him through sheer expediency by grabbing the collar and tearing the fabric down to the hem. "Hey!"

"It was ruined anyway," Wade said, staring with narrowed eyes at the wound now on display.

Riordan glanced down at his chest, wincing at the slashing burn crawling across his rib cage. The touch of iron was never easy for fae to bear. Those that lived in cities learned to ignore the muffling sense of being surrounded by what amounted to an iron jungle. But touching iron was not something fae did willingly, and the blackened, blistered wound cutting over his ribs was why.

"Hold still," Saoirse warned, already unscrewing the jar that held the magicked healing balm they paid a pretty price for. She slathered the cream over his wound, and the hideous heat of it eased. The pain became something ignorable for the moment, and he let out a thankful sigh.

Donal came into the living room, eyeing Riordan worriedly. "The tub is ready."

"Okay," Riordan said, not yet moving.

"Do you need help?" Wade asked.

"I can make it upstairs on my own."

And he did, with Wade following right behind him rather than his siblings. Riordan was intensely aware of Wade's presence as he joined Riordan in the bathroom he and his siblings had renovated years ago. They'd knocked out a wall and lost half the home office space at the time, but it'd been well worth it for times like this.

Wade whistled softly, taking in the tile stained in shades of blue to make it look like the ocean that covered the floor and walls all the way up to the ceiling. The extra-large, claw-foot bathtub taking up much of the space was presently half-filled with cool water, Riordan's sealskin draped over the curled edge. With a sigh, he started stripping out of the rest of his clothes, prompting him to look over his shoulder at the sound Wade made. Wade was staring up at the ceiling, a flush darkening his cheeks.

"I'll just be leaving," he said.

Riordan kicked his jeans and underwear aside. "Or you could stay."

"Yes, but—" Wade waved his hand in Riordan's direction, still not looking at him. "You're, uh, naked."

Riordan laughed and then instantly regretted it as the wound pulled along his ribs. "You're part of a god pack and surrounded by werecreatures. Aren't they ever naked?"

"No! I mean, yes, but it's not polite to look."

"I don't mind you looking." Wade's face turned an interesting shade of red that was really quite lovely. But Riordan wasn't in the market of making the other man uncomfortable. He reached for his sealskin and wrapped it around his shoulders before stepping into the tub and sinking down into the water. "It's all right. You can look now."

Wade hesitated before dropping his gaze from the ceiling and meeting Riordan's. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

Riordan took a breath and leaned back into the water, his sealskin flowing over his limbs, sliding into his very being. The shift pulled at him, dragging forth the bones and body of a seal out of the human form he lived half his life in. With a twist, he shifted into a seal, the burn of the iron wound disappearing. He slapped his flippers against the side of the tub, sending water splashing over the sides.

"Oh, wow. You're adorable."

Riordan snorted at that, lifting his head and peering up at where Wade now knelt by the tub. He hefted himself up to be at eye level with the younger man, whiskers twitching, and pressed his sensitive nose against Wade's, who laughed and reached out to carefully run his hand over Riordan's head. He twisted his head into the touch and chuffed happily.

"How's your wound?"

In answer, Riordan raised a flipper, showing off the area along his side where the wound had been. While the cut was now healed, there was some discoloration in his fur that spoke of bruising he'd have in human form once he shifted again.

Wade laid his hand gently over the discoloration, and Riordan pressed his nose to Wade's cheek. Wade ducked his head, laughing quietly. "I'm glad you're okay."

Riordan slid down into the tub and twisted, spinning through a shift and rising up as a human, sealskin draped over his lap and a deep bruise pressed over his ribs. He came nose to nose with Wade again, staring into warm brown eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him. "I never said thank you for stopping that fae."

"You don't owe me anything."

"And if I want to?"

"Debts are shitty. I won't give you one."

"Then just give me you."

Wade huffed out a breath that Riordan swallowed in a kiss, ignoring the pooling warmth in his gut.

"You're lucky you're cute as a human and as a seal," Wade grumbled when they parted.

Riordan laughed and got to his feet, sealskin still wrapped around his waist like a towel. "Come on. I'm going to lie down for a bit. You can lie down with me."

"Uh, just sleep, right?"

Riordan took Wade's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Just sleep."

He led Wade out of the bathroom and down the hall toward his bedroom, the space mostly clean. He tugged on a pair of boxers and then pulled at his sealskin, letting it wrap around his arms and torso in a soft cardigan sweater.

"Can your sealskin turn into anything?" Wade asked.

"Usually, we keep it as some kind of coat."

"Makes sense."

Wade hadn't made any move toward the bed, still standing in the middle of the bedroom. Riordan tilted his head, studying Wade. "You don't have to stay while I heal if you don't want to."

"I want to," Wade said swiftly, which might have been sheer bravado on his part if Riordan was reading his reactions right. "I just, uh, I might elbow you?"

"Wade. You don't have to stay."

Wade's lips twisted, some of his nervous energy causing him to shift on his feet. "I really do want to."

"It's just sleeping. I promise. I will always ask for what you want."

Wade stared at him, eyes unblinking, before drawing a steeling sort of breath. "Thanks."

Riordan throttled the urge to commit murder on Wade's behalf, knowing that someone, at some point, had violated Wade's boundaries in a way that still reverberated through his reactions. But he wasn't going to ask, and Wade would hopefully tell him if he pushed for too much at any point.

Instead of giving voice to anger that had no place in the bedroom, Riordan coaxed Wade to lie down with him, wrapping the younger man up in his arms and burrowing his nose in dark hair, breathing him in.

"You're better than medicine," Riordan muttered.

Wade let out a slightly choked-out laugh, hands hesitantly plucking at Riordan's sealskin in fabric form. "If you say so."

"I do."

And he meant it. The nap that afternoon was one of the best Riordan had experienced in decades.