his voice. Ray raised his head.
“Callalily.” He spoke quietly, flatly, without turning,
because he couldn"t look at Cal now without quite possibly
losing it completely. “Wait in the car.” He couldn"t think
without picturing Cal with him, at his home, out here,
curling around him with the free, wild, forest air blanketing
them.
He could almost
hear
Cal"s pout, the protest about to
happen, and preempted it.
“Now, Cal. Please.”
It was the
please
that worked. Cal made a thoughtful,
unhappy sound that was just wrong coming from his kind
and moved. Only once he was really gone did Ray get back to
business.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Kirkpatrick, you seem to be
innocent, and I have no reason to kick your ass. Unless you
want to give me one….” He stopped. It was a speech he"d
given before. He only half meant it, usually. At the moment,
however, he felt raw enough to consider rearranging that
young face with his claws.
Penelope switched to overly bright sarcasm. “Thank you
so
much for your time today. The Los Cerros Police
Department appreciates your cooperation. If you have any
questions, feel free to call….”
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Ray turned before she was done handing over
information that Kirkpatrick didn"t want or need. Seconds
later she was crashing through the trees behind him, not
exactly in her element out here.
She still had the keys, but just to be clear, Ray slammed
into the passenger seat, not glancing in the backseat at all.
“You drive.”
He rolled down his window the rest of the way, not
especially caring, for once, if Cal was chilled, because the
window down meant Cal"s scent was somewhat diluted. He
closed his eyes as Penn started driving and then consciously
forced himself to shift back to fully human.
Some of the rest of him had changed too. He"d torn his
shirt, damn it. If only that was his biggest problem right
now. He"d revealed too much.
Not with the shifting. Cal had seen Ray semi-shift once
before, had leaned back with his bared throat and his round
eyes and nearly asked for Ray to bite him.
Ray hadn"t, a regret that still burned.
He had only opened his mouth, sticky with the heat,
soaked to the skin from his shower, and watched the colors in
Cal"s eyes swirl.
“What are you waiting for, Rover?” Cal had demanded,
and Ray had shifted, knowing it wasn"t what Cal had been
asking for but unable to keep himself from wondering what
Cal Parker, his brand new mate, but not, would think of him.
He hadn"t changed all the way, but just enough, leaving
himself on the edge.
Strength. Implied violence. Power, that"s what Ray was
when he was like that, and yet he"d been shuddering and
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weak in front of one little half-fairy, hoping he could be
anything to those eyes that Cal would want.
He had been a creature in pain and still hoping, and Cal
hadn"t noticed. Ray remembered thinking for the first time that
it wasn"t fair, that it wasn"t right that he should want a fairy
like this, a fairy who would never be undone for Ray in the
same way.
But then a hand had touched him, and he had watched,
stunned, as Cal"s palm had wandered over his chest, petting
through his fur.
“Soft.” Cal had been sweet, was always sweet, even
when he was breaking Ray"s heart. “Soft,” he"d said. “You"d
think you"d be scary. But you"re soft.”
Ray was shaking and turned his face away from the
others, facing the window as his pulse raced in his ears, left
him hot. His breathing was loud, the others would notice.
But he didn"t stop replaying the memory, wishing, as he
always did, that he hadn"t been so stupid.
With those words hanging between them, Cal had
hesitated again, the light around him unstable, glitter
exploding, leaving glowing auras in Ray"s vision. And then Cal
had gasped and the world had gone back to normal.
“Rover.” Cal"s words still buzzed like bees around their
honey. “Ray. You. You"re….”
Ray had known then that Cal hadn"t understood. He had
wanted to howl, there with claws against the wall on either
side of Cal, with their breath mingling and his mate, his brand
new but unclaimed mate so close.
But Cal hadn"t understood, still didn"t. What it meant.
What Ray needed.
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Ray made a noise, strangled and furious, that made
Penn glance at him with worry and which made Cal, with
that same un-fairy-like discretion he showed on occasion,
begin to talk only to her. It was all nonsense, shotgun
sequencing, the weather, the trees, elementary particles,
what peony nectar tasted like compared to fermented
rosewater, how could Penelope possibly prefer ouzo, topics
just to fill the silence and spare Ray the need to say
anything.
He was grateful and hated it at the same time. When Cal
cared for him like this, it made the longing worse, reminded
him of what he could have and why he shouldn"t have it. He
hadn"t expected Kirkpatrick to know that.
He tried not to listen for that reason, only if it had no
distraction, his mind kept replaying Kirkpatrick"s words.
And then Cal, asking
Why?
Whispering,
There you are
and here I am. Just take me.
He should have by now. Spared himself some of this
agony and taken what Cal could give him and pretend it
hadn"t been anything else when Cal flitted on to someone
else so Cal wouldn"t feel guilty for wounding him.
Breaking his heart. Leaving him soulsick. It wouldn"t be
something Ray would be able to hide anymore, not after
briefly having Cal in his bed with him. Cal and his eyes that
according to Nasreen saw more than Ray could ever guess.
Cal would look at him and know. Not that Ray would blame
him, or try to force him to stay.
It wasn"t Cal"s fault, it was his nature. Fairies couldn"t
help it. They simply weren"t meant to be unhappy and didn"t
like to see others that way either.
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Proving his point, they weren"t back in town a minute
before Cal apparently decided that Ray had had enough time
to brood.
“So he wasn"t the guy, obviously. Even if he was a total
dick.”
“Word.” Penn sniffed. “That guy had an attitude I didn"t
care for, but he"s no murderer.” Cal moved from where he"d
been sitting primly for the drive and pressed against Ray"s
seat. Ray tensed, and Cal retreated.
“Ray?” he started in a small voice, and Ray had the sick
feeling he was going to ask, or that he"d heard what he"d
whispered to Kirkpatrick after all. He held his breath. “Ray.”
Cal was so quiet. “Do you really think I"m prettier than he
is?”
“Cal.” In his mind, Ray was holding Cal right now, and
in reality Cal was… being Cal.
“Really. I had no idea other werewolves were so…
impressive. I mean, everyone says fairies are so beautiful,
but you guys are something else. I wouldn"t blame you at all
for preferring that. I mean, I clearly….”
Ray squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. If he could
have, he would have shifted right there and bolted from the
car. He imagined Cal"s hand on Kirkpatrick"s chest and then
couldn"t take it anymore. “Cal,” he said again. “Shut up.”
Cal pouted silently for the rest of the drive, with even
his wings quiet and motionless. Only his glitter continued to
move, pouring steadily down.
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RAY"S mood rubbed off on Penn. She got out of the car
immediately back at the station, offering him a tight,
consoling smile but unable to talk with Cal still there. In the
end, when Ray didn"t move from his seat, she nodded at him
and headed inside to get her things and go home. Soak in
her tub. Eat something.
Ray needed to eat again too, but he didn"t feel hungry.
Just drained. Tired. It was dark out, the growing moon
taunting him. He kept his eyes closed as the back door
opened and Cal climbed out of the car, kept them shut when
Cal closed the door after him, but then gave a start when his
door was swung open with force.
He looked up and there he was. Cal Parker. The bane of
his existence and his reason for living.
“Back off, Primrose.”
“No.” It was short and direct and forceful. Ray frowned.
He was a werewolf and a suspected murderer. Why couldn"t
Cal take him seriously, just this once? He should be afraid.
Ray had
growled
. Cal should be terrified. He should be
taking his little non-flying, half-fairy ass out of there as fast
as he could and find some new Being to torment.
But Cal was still, just the wings giving away his
agitation. They were worse than a tail, those wings. Ray
glared at them, at Cal, then sat up, because that lift to Cal"s
chin meant business.
“Oh, good. Here it comes. Got something to say, little
fairy?” He sounded like Kirkpatrick and hated it. Cal just
waved at him, then crossed his arms.
“What that guy said,” he began, and Ray jerked his eyes
away so they couldn"t be read, felt his muscles tighten. “You
don"t have to defend me, Ray.”
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He looked right back, hot all over, even knowing that he
ought to be grateful that Cal hadn"t understood.
“Yes, I
do,
Calla—” Damn it. He was breathing hard.
They both were, he realized. He wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or
claw up the car"s upholstery. It was nice to know Cal didn"t
know everything after all, but it would have been useful if
just once he
could
have understood what this was for Ray.
What the teasing did to him. What Mated meant. Maybe even
explain why Ray"s soul had locked onto Cal"s with no
warning.
But of course he didn"t. Ray stared back at him, aware
that his frustration was in his face for Cal to see. He
swallowed, and Cal wet his mouth.
He"d been eating jellybeans since they"d hit town. His
lips were sugary pink, his tongue stained purple and green.
His voice was strangely low, humming like his wings.
“You know, normally I
hate
when people say my name.
But when you say it, it"s like I can"t stop myself.”
“Callalily.” Ray didn"t say more than that, didn"t nod or
move, but then somehow he was sitting back as he got a lap
full of fairy. He was stunned, burning, glitter settling on him
like popping bubbles, the barest tickle. Then Cal"s legs were
crushed on either side of him, on him because Ray took up
the entire seat, and yet he couldn"t seem to feel any pain at
all.
He could take the weight off, hold Cal up easily without
effort, and he did, putting his hands at Cal"s back only to
slide them under his shirt, over it, letting the frantic rush of
wings try to cool them.
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Ray turned his head, burying his face in the crook of
Cal"s neck and shoulder and breathing in deep,
perfect/sugar/color
.
Need/need/need
.
Cal
.
His Cal.
He should stop but he didn"t want to, and Cal didn"t
want him to either. His hands slid to the headrest, to Ray"s
hair.
“I knew it.” Triumphant and breathless and radiating
desire, just as promised. “I knew you"d been smelling me.”
Someone with a sense of self-preservation might have
paused at that, thought about his desk and chair, why Cal
would torture him like that deliberately, but Ray seemed to
have misplaced his. Cal was in his lap. In his lungs. In his
blood. Talking to push him further over the edge.
“Tell me, Ray. What do I smell like to you? Tell me.”
Ray tightened his hands but couldn"t answer. He shook
his head, then slid his mouth along the pounding rush of
Cal"s pulse, up to his mouth to kiss him. It was rough,