10. Riley

10

RILEY

He remembered the moose.

Just when Riley had been certain his luck had run out, a huge black moose came barreling toward him making an incredibly loud noise. It was the strangest thing he'd ever seen, and if he hadn't been so cold, he would have wondered if he was already dead.

When the moose laid down and pushed its huge nose into his snow cave to snuffle him, Riley had no doubts that this was Brandon, his moose mate. Except Riley was also pretty sure he wasn't going to make it, and the thought of leaving Brandon made him sadder than just the idea of dying.

He remembered the loud rumble of engines and losing the heat of his moose protector as he was manhandled into a sled and whisked away. Riley had drifted in and out of consciousness, but when he did open his eyes, the scenery flew by at an alarming pace, and the moose was nowhere to be seen.

His head hurt so much. At some point on the journey, Riley gave up and let sleep take him, hoping the pain would go away.

Riley faded in and out. He heard voices in the distance. Some he knew; most he didn't. They sounded worried, but he didn't have the energy to care. He knew a voice was missing, an important voice, but his thoughts were too muddled to know whose.

The cold was gone, and the air smelled of disinfectant. He was warm. Everything hurt. The pounding in his head hadn't stopped, but once in a while, he could surface, although he couldn't seem to make himself do anything. Riley wondered where Brandon had gone. Then he quit struggling and sank into sleep.

The next time he roused, Brandon was talking to him, gripping his hand. Riley couldn't think clearly, but he felt the pain in Brandon's voice. He wished Brandon could read his mind or that he could give his mate a signal that he could hear him, but his body wasn't cooperating.

Brandon's soothing voice tethered Riley, comforting him. The words slipped past him, not quite registering, but the tone was loving and reassuring. He knew Brandon was hurting, but he couldn't answer. He fell asleep hoping Brandon would stay with him forever.

Riley didn't know how long after that it was that he came to. Consciousness felt different this time, like something he might be able to keep instead of it slipping through his fingers.

Each sense seemed to come online separately. Sound first—monitors beeping, the low murmur of a television, Brandon snoring. Then the smell of antiseptic and a scent that was uniquely Brandon. Taste wasn't pleasant—his mouth was dry, and he really needed a mint. A warm hand held his, and his other palm lay on cool sheets.

When he opened his eyes, he found Brandon leaning on his folded arms on Riley's bed, dozing. He thought it was the best thing he had ever seen.

Riley must have twitched because Brandon jerked awake and sat up, staring at Riley like he had seen a miracle.

"You're awake!" Brandon reached for the call button. "He's awake!"

A nurse and doctor hurried into the room. Brandon stepped back, letting them check Riley, maintaining eye contact as much as he could.

"We need to do some tests, so we are going to ask you to step out, but we'll let you back in just as soon as we can," the nurse assured Brandon, ushering him to the door.

"Stay." Riley's hoarse voice made them all turn. "He stays." He held out his hand to Brandon, who took it and gave a squeeze, then stepped as far out of the way as he could so the team could check Riley over.

When they finished, the doctor looked to Riley, who anticipated her question.

"Brandon is my mate. You can speak in front of him. Please don't make him go."

The doctor nodded her acceptance. "All right. By the way, I'm Dr. Swanson. Your concussion is healing, but it's not going to be completely healed for a while, even though we're thrilled that you're awake. I'll schedule some tests tomorrow to see how much impact—short term and long term—we can expect. And I'll send you home with a list of side effects to watch for. I'm hoping, given your age and the nature of the injury, that healing will go well."

"So I have to stay?"

Dr. Swanson smiled. "There's really nowhere to go for now. We're all stuck at the hospital, given the storm, until the roads are cleared, and that won't be until at least tomorrow. Might as well make the best of it."

"What about everything else?" Riley asked.

"You've got some very mild frostbite, nothing that won't heal with a little TLC. Sounds like you were smart to bundle up and keep out of the wind," the doctor told him. "Your hypothermia hadn't reached the severe level, but it was very close. We've checked for organ damage and didn't find any signs. Pneumonia is a concern, so we'll watch for symptoms but haven't seen any yet. Otherwise, you shouldn't have any lasting effects. You must have a guardian angel watching out for you."

"More like a guardian moose." Riley looked at Brandon.

After Dr. Swanson and the nurse left, Brandon moved back to his bedside chair and took Riley's hand again. "Damn, it's good to see your eyes."

"Good to see you too. I really didn't think I would, there for a while."

Brandon leaned in and kissed him, slow and gentle. "Glad you're back." He sat in the chair, still holding hands. "I know we haven't been together long, but…you didn't tell me about your stalker ex."

"You didn't tell me you were a moose."

"Fair enough," Brandon acknowledged.

Riley sighed. "I really hoped that Tate would give up when I moved so far away. I realize now that he didn't love me, but I guess he couldn't stand admitting that he couldn't control me. And maybe I was a tasty, convenient meal."

"Meal?"

"He was a psi-vamp who could drain energy. That's how he trapped me—he drained a lot more than ever before, and I couldn't fight back," Riley replied. "I wanted to make a fresh start here and not bring all that baggage with me. And then I met you, and I didn't want my past to stain our relationship."

"If you weren't a nil, I probably would have read enough of your thoughts to suspect," Brandon said. "But I'm betting that because you're immune, his mojo didn't work as well on you—which might have saved your life."

"That's Dr. Jeffries's theory," Riley said. "If so, I'll never have been so happy to be unreadable."

"You aren't completely unreadable." Brandon stroked the back of Riley's hand as they talked. "I couldn't pick up words, but I felt when you got hit, and I knew you were scared and hurt. Maybe I'll only be able to read your emotions in an emergency, or maybe it will shift the longer we're together after the bite, but it's nice to know you're not totally closed to me."

"I'm glad. I like that." Riley stifled a yawn. "I'm tired. Who knew getting kidnapped was so exhausting?" He managed a wan smile and lifted a hand to touch Brandon's hair.

"Your moose is very handsome."

"Don't let him hear you—he'll get a swelled head," Brandon teased.

"Impressive antlers."

"Well hung?"

Riley groaned. "I can't believe you went there—although that's true too," he added with a sly grin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Brandon sighed. "I wasn't quite sure how to bring it up. You accepted psychics, but people turning into animals is a lot to believe in."

"Dr. Jeffries gave me ‘the talk.' He didn't out you—or anyone else—but he told me that shifters were real and that quite a bit of the town had a fuzzy side."

"Are you okay with it? My moose and I are a package deal." Brandon sounded hesitant.

Riley squeezed his hand and lifted it to kiss his knuckles. "Of course I am. And tell him thanks for saving me."

"He likes you. He knew as soon as he smelled you that you were our mate."

"When I was in the snow cave and didn't think I'd make it, I imagined us being together," Riley confessed. "All the way from now to being old farts in rocking chairs on the porch. And now that I'm not dying, I'd really like to make that happen."

"Move in with me," Brandon offered. "For one thing, I can make sure your head injury doesn't cause problems. But mostly, I just want you close—and in my bed."

"I'd like that," Riley said and felt a little shy. "But is it too quick? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. My moose is sure. You're our mate. And as soon as you're cleared to leave here, if you're willing, I'd like to seal the deal and share a mating bite."

Riley's hand went to the hickey on his neck. "Will we be more connected?"

"I don't know for sure how much it will change things since you're a nil, but I think we'll sense more feelings, even if not words. That would be nice," Brandon admitted.

Riley yawned again. "I want to hear all about it—and someday, I want to see you shift. But I think I'm crashing."

"Rest. I'm going to grab a bite to eat, and I'll be right back," Brandon said. "I won't be gone long."

Riley closed his eyes when Brandon left, lightly dozing. He opened them again with a sigh when he heard footsteps and knew, even without looking, that the visitor wasn't Brandon.

Sheriff Arnell cleared his throat. "Sorry to bother you, but I need to ask a few questions. I'll keep it short."

Arnell was a tall, solidly built man with broad shoulders and a thick head of brown hair. With his newfound knowledge, Riley immediately thought, bear shifter, and wondered if he was right.

"That's okay," Riley told the nurse, who had looked to him for permission. "Might be a little scrambled, but I'll tell you what I can."

"How well did you know your attacker?" Arnell asked. "Tate Carson? Is that his name?"

"Tate was my ex-boyfriend. We'd been dating for about a year. I broke things off several months before I moved to Fox Hollow. He stalked me after we broke up. I came up with an exit plan—which is how I ended up here."

"Exit plan?" Arnell's head came up sharply. "Was he abusive before the breakup?"

"Not at first. But later, yeah. I'm almost positive he was a psi-vamp who fed on me without permission."

He braced himself for some sort of "didn't you know he was trouble" comment and relaxed a fraction when Arnell just nodded and made note of his reply.

"Were you aware of his background?"

Riley frowned. It hurt to think too hard, but Arnell's question didn't make sense. "Background? He never mentioned anything. It didn't come up."

"He had priors for assault and stalking. I ran a background check when you filed the restraining order with our office. You weren't the first to take one out against him," the sheriff replied. "Can you tell me what happened? Then I'll let you rest."

Riley recounted Tate confronting him in the parking lot, their argument, the way he felt drained, and being hit with the butt of Tate's gun. He told Arnell how they had argued over how fast Tate was driving and the skid that sent them over the hill.

"He hit you with his unregistered, unlicensed gun," the sheriff muttered. "I'm waiting on a ballistics report to see if it matches any weapons used in crimes. It was acquired illegally."

How could I have been so easy to fool?

Arnell seemed to guess his thoughts. "Guys like Tate are master manipulators. They don't show their scummy side until they think they have you hooked. You were smart to get out. I'm sorry that things got complicated."

"Thanks. What happens now?" Riley struggled with a tangle of emotions, none of which he felt ready to confront right now.

Arnel sighed. "Paperwork. Lots and lots of it. I've ordered an autopsy, although the cause of death seems clear. That'll tell us if he was under the influence of drugs. Still running a check on his truck to see if it was involved in anything illegal. Eventually, we'll contact next of kin to return the body."

"He never talked about family," Riley said. "I don't know whether he had any or not."

"Not your problem." The sheriff shrugged. "Now, I think you'd better rest. Thanks for your cooperation. I'm sure this is difficult."

"I wanted him to leave me alone, and I never wanted to see him again. But I didn't wish him dead."

Arnell met his eyes. "I've dealt with guys like him before. He wasn't going to go away on his own. It was always going to come down to him or you."

Riley shivered as the realization hit hard. "Thanks."

"Take care of yourself. I don't think I'll need anything more from you, but if I do, I know where to find you." The sheriff let himself out.

Riley struggled to remember the early days with Tate before things went bad. They met at a club. Tate was lively and outgoing, and they bonded over music. Later, Tate resented the time Riley spent with his guitar and the gigs he played. They fought. Riley refused to give up playing. Tate retaliated. Eventually, Riley walked out when it got to be too much. He always felt tired back then. Now, he realized Tate had been draining him.

If he had believed I would actually leave, he could have stopped me by making me too exhausted to do it. I'm lucky I got away.

Brandon came in as the sheriff left. "Everything okay?"

Riley sighed. "Just found out more about Tate I didn't know. God, I was an idiot."

Brandon moved to sit next to his bed and took his hand. "You're not an idiot. A bad person intentionally lied to you. That's not your fault."

He nodded. "I know—in my head. It's going to take a bit for the rest of me to catch up." Riley sniffed back tears. "Another good thing about the whole fated mates thing. It's meant to be."

"Yes, mates recognize each other. But we can take this at whatever pace you need," Brandon told him. "Fast or slow, we'll get to the same point. We belong together."

Riley squeezed his hand. "I refuse to let Tate have anything to do with us. I'm not going to give him that power. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I want what we have. I'm not going to let the past get in the way."

Brandon leaned in and kissed him slowly and gently. "My moose and I are very proud of you."

Two days later, the storm had passed, and the roads were clear. Brandon pushed Riley in a wheelchair to the hospital's covered entrance and helped him into Brandon's Suburban.

"I already picked your Pilot up from the parking lot," Brandon told him. "Madden and I got your hotel room packed up and spoke to Steve. Your SUV and your stuff are at my place. You can figure out where you want everything to go when you feel up to it."

"I sold off everything that wouldn't fit in the Pilot when I left Jamestown. So I travel light."

Brandon squeezed his hand. "Then you've got a clean slate to make a fresh start. We'll fill in the blanks—together."

Once they reached the cabin, Brandon hesitated in the kitchen. "I already brought your stuff inside, but I figured you'd want to unpack it yourself." He paused. "Also, about where to put your clothing—I didn't want to assume that we're sharing a room. What do you want to do?" Brandon looked nervous.

"It's okay with me—is there an issue?" Riley had figured they would be sleeping together and now wondered if he had gotten ahead of them.

"No problem, none at all. I just…I'm not good at this." Brandon gave a deep sigh. "I don't want to screw anything up."

Riley reached out and brought Brandon into his arms. "Asking questions and being clear isn't going to do any harm. You can ask me anything."

"Me too. My moose was hoping we'd sleep in the same room. And so was I."

Now that Brandon was being open about his shifter side, Riley had to get used to him referring to his "other half" as having opinions of its own.

"How do you want me to unpack?" Riley stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the small cabin. "Where can I put my stuff? There isn't a lot."

"I already cleared half of the closet and dresser in the bedroom. And there are storage boxes under the bed for seasonal or bulky stuff," Brandon said.

"That should be fine. Otherwise, I have some knickknacks, books, my computer, and e-reader and chargers, that sort of thing. I left everything that I could live without just to leave Jamestown fast," Riley confessed.

This time, Brandon initiated the hug. "Most of my stuff is still from college or the furniture that came with the cabin. It could use an upgrade. We'll get what we need for a household together."

"I like the sound of that." Riley buried his face in Brandon's shoulder and breathed deep. He didn't have a shifter side, but something deep inside recognized "mate."

"Why don't you get your stuff put away, and I'll work on dinner." Brandon kissed Riley again. "If we keep this up, we'll end up in bed. You won't get unpacked, we won't eat dinner, and we'll die from starvation."

"Can't let that happen." Riley was happy despite still feeling the effects of his ordeal.

It didn't take long to figure out how to store his clothing in the drawers and part of the closet Brandon had cleared. Riley appreciated that Brandon had made more room than he needed, a generous move that made Riley feel welcome and wanted.

He plugged in his electronics and put the few knickknacks on top of the dresser until he could figure out a better location. They were small reminders of past vacations and trips to theme parks, happy times that didn't include Tate.

I don't know how he fooled me or what I ever saw in him. But back at the beginning, I cared.

Riley knew now that no attraction he had felt to anyone matched the mate bond with Brandon. And we haven't even completed it. Maybe that's why things never worked out with anyone else. They weren't my mate.

Riley put his guitar and keyboard in a corner of the living room. His amps and electronics were safely stowed at the hotel for when his gigs resumed after taking a few weeks off to recuperate. Dr. Jeffries had been very understanding and given him extensions on his classwork, putting the research project on hold until Riley was fully recovered.

The cabin was warm and cozy, and the mix of art, books, and tchotchkes from different games and fandoms was so thoroughly Brandon. He inhaled, taking in both the smell of dinner cooking and a scent that was very Brandon. Home. Mate.

Riley had been in survival mode since the crash and then focused on recovering so he could leave the hospital. There hadn't been time to process Tate's death, even though he had seen the body first-hand.

Now that the shock of the wreck had faded, Riley found himself thinking about Tate as if he were a stranger, a distancing reaction that he admitted to himself was probably a survival mechanism. Everything about Tate turned out to be a lie. Any fondness or attraction Riley had ever felt for him was long gone. He hadn't wished death on Tate, only to be left alone. But now, Riley felt detached, feeling only relief and the vague sadness he might feel for a total stranger.

Should I be guilty about not feeling more? At one time, I thought I cared for him. It's complicated enough I imagine I'll be talking to a therapist about it someday, but not right now.

I've started something good, and I'm not going to let Tate tarnish my relationship with Brandon from beyond the grave.

"Dinner's ready," Brandon called, far sooner than Riley expected, and he realized he had been lost in his thoughts.

"You should have let me help." Riley joined Brandon in the kitchen.

"There wasn't much to do, and the sooner you get settled in here, the sooner we start our new future as a mated pair." Brandon leaned in for a kiss as he put the lasagna on the table. "Our first meal since you've moved in." Brandon gave Riley a warm smile that turned Riley's heart gooey.

"I never knew moose could cook," Riley teased.

"My moose doesn't." Brandon dug in. "He's more of a twigs and leaves kinda guy. If you're into that."

"Pass. I like this much better." Riley took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring. "This is really good."

"Well, at least you won't starve to death." Brandon chuckled. "I like taking care of you."

"I want to take good care of you too." That was new for Riley. His prior relationships, even the more successful ones, had never moved beyond the polite supportiveness of friends with benefits. Now that he knew the difference, he couldn't believe the lack hadn't seemed glaring.

When they finished in the kitchen, Riley was still feeling good despite being more tired than usual. His headache had eased, and his libido resurfaced.

"I've missed you." Riley snuggled close to Brandon on the couch after they cleaned the kitchen and put in a movie. "Let me show you how much."

The wide couch let them lie facing each other. Riley pulled Brandon into a kiss, starting slow and gradually growing more heated. He licked at Brandon's lips, seeking entry, and then deepened their connection with his tongue, tasting and savoring his partner.

"I can't get enough of you." He was surprised at the huskiness of his voice.

"You taste as good as you smell." Brandon let his hands roam over Riley's body, exploring and laying claim. Riley loved being able to touch Brandon all over, from his broad shoulders to his solid chest, where he lavished attention on the dusky nipples with his fingers and tongue.

Riley slipped a hand between Brandon's legs and smiled at how hard his partner was already. "You like this?" He thought Brandon's body already made the answer clear. His own cock was straining against his jeans, seeking release.

"Uh-huh." Brandon returned the favor and stroked Riley through the denim. He worked Riley's belt open and unzipped his pants, reaching inside and freeing his cock from his boxer briefs.

Riley caught his breath at the friction of Brandon's palm against the sensitive skin, only partly eased by pre-come. He hurried to return the favor, and they lay together, stroking each other with increasing urgency. Brandon reached into the space between the couch cushions and took out a tube of lube stashed from their last make-out session.

"I wasn't a Boy Scout, but I believe in being prepared." Brandon squirted some onto his palm before resuming his touch, faster now, propelling Riley toward the finish line.

Riley did the same, jerking them both at the same pace, pressing kisses against Brandon's chest as their pleasure built.

He felt his release rising from heat deep in his groin, balls drawing up, and knew he wouldn't last much longer. Riley pushed close to Brandon, angling his neck, and bared his throat for the mating bite.

"Please." Riley teetered on the edge of orgasm.

Brandon licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, working Riley with a firm grip. When Riley came, Brandon's lips were on the hickey, warm and claiming.

Riley tensed for the pain of a bite as his climax washed over him. He came hard, encircled by Brandon's arm, surrounded by his scent, Brandon's mouth on his neck. Seconds later, he felt Brandon come as well.

Only when the haze of his orgasm faded did Riley realize Brandon's teeth had never broken his skin.

He drew back to meet Brandon's eyes, confused and hurt. "Why?"

Brandon kissed him tenderly. "The bite is supposed to happen during penetrative sex. It's part of the claiming. And you don't have medical permission for that kind of strenuous activity."

"I need a doctor's note before you'll fuck me?" Riley couldn't help feeling disappointed and a little outraged.

"Yep. I discussed it with Dr. Swanson. It might be an abundance of caution, but if you black out and fall off the bed, you could make the concussion worse." Brandon sounded entirely too logical.

"I've never fallen off a bed during sex in my life." Riley felt vaguely insulted.

Brandon kissed him, seeking forgiveness with big brown eyes. "I don't want to hold back when we fuck for the first time. I don't want either of us to worry or think about anything except chasing pleasure.

"Maybe we'll do it slow, or maybe we'll go rough and ready—or a little of both. There's so much I want to explore with you. But if I'm worried about hurting you or you're uncomfortable, it's going to spoil the moment. And I want us to remember your claiming for the rest of our lives."

Brandon stripped out of his T-shirt and wiped them both off, a gesture Riley took as conciliatory. "Believe me, I want to be in you so bad, want to know how you feel. Want to complete our bond and see where it takes us. But I can't enjoy it if I'm worried that I'll set back your progress, and if I hurt you because we got too enthusiastic, I'd have a hard time forgiving myself."

Riley appreciated Brandon's concern and recognized that his partner's self-control was a form of love. But his cock didn't understand, and Riley's disappointment over having to wait made it hard to be patient.

"How soon? I want to be everything to you."

Brandon kissed him again, tender and hungry. "Soon. You go back to the doctor in a week. If everything's looking good, she thought we'd be fine by then."

"Cockblocked by a concussion," Riley sighed.

"Don't be angry, babe. Once we start, we can stay in bed for days if you want. Believe me, holding back isn't fun for me either. But it'll be better in the long run. And I love you, so I've gotta take care of you."

Brandon's low voice and gentle touch broke through Riley's pique. "All right," Riley reluctantly agreed. "But I'm gonna hold you to the bit about staying in bed for days."