Beast in Me (The Divination Falls Trilogy) (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Cameron stepped toward him but Trace moved away. Fuck. How had he not seen the grief for what it was before? How could he be so stupid? There was a big difference between
haven’t
gotten any
and having the last person you were with be the man you loved – and killed.

‘Why?’ he asked. But he already knew.

‘Because it’s been a long, lonely life.’ The wolf barked out a laugh. ‘Not to sound like some cheesy country song or anything.’

‘You just sound honest,’ Cam said, wanting to reach for him again, but putting his hands in his pockets instead.

‘Well, that is honest. I’m a coward, wanting to run from a life full of …’ He shrugged, but it was barely visible in the meagre light from the flashlight. Cam had let it point to his feet to allow Trace some semblance of privacy. ‘Nothing.’

‘Life can change,’ Cam said, not wanting to sound too hopeful. Hopeful for himself or the other man, he wasn’t sure. If he was brutally honest, most likely for both of them. And some sappy part of his dented bruised heart said maybe – just maybe – together.

He shook it off. Stupid wishful thinking.

‘Not usually. Not enough to … Anyway –’ Trace changed directions ‘– I didn’t let it take me. I just stood there and watched.’

Cameron was starting to understand why this man had hidden himself away. Living in a hidden town, concealing himself further in the basement of a church rectory. Having as little contact as possible with people.

‘What did it look like?’ he asked.

‘Like hell.’

Cam waited, wishing it had been a week or more since they’d met so he could reach out and take Trace’s hand. Offer some comfort.

‘Meaning?’

‘It was big. Bigger than the gazebo. It had tentacles, I noticed that, especially with all the talk that came from what happened at The Den when that band of crazies called up the thing from the floor. Concrete everywhere. I had to help them clean that up because Father thought it was the right thing to d –’ He caught himself rambling. ‘It was big, with tentacles, but it had this hook it looked like on first glance. But it wasn’t a hook so much.’

‘What was it?’ Cam pressed his belly to the railing to try and stave off the feeling of nervousness that had settled in the pit of his gut.

‘It was a stinger. Like on a scorpion. That’s when it happened,’ Trace said. His face was almost eerie in the torchlight.

‘When what happened?’

‘When I had that urge to just let it take me. One good hit from that stinger, and I bet you dollars to donuts I’d be toast. Accelerated healing powers or not. Sometimes dead is dead.’

Cameron shook his head and bit back his worry. He reached out and took Trace’s hand. ‘Please don’t talk like that.’

It was a risk, to admit to the easy way he’d taken to this man. Especially after so many years alone. It was a big risk and a lot of fear.

Trace looked at their hands. It was only his silhouette in the darkness, but Cam could see him do it. He gave a rough laugh – more of a growl. ‘This isn’t love, Lightning Boy. It was what it was. I hope I didn’t make you think that I was up for anything but a fu –’

The gazebo started to rattle and sway under their feet and Cameron cried out as the boards shifted and his left foot was suddenly lower than his right. Their hands were still entwined, but now it was Trace trying to keep Cam standing. The world shook harder and Cameron panicked, running from the gazebo on stumbling feet. Trace followed suit in the gloom. The moon was bright, so he saw how easily and gracefully his lover moved when he had to. Trace reached for Cam and Cam heard himself say, ‘It’s happening again, isn’t it?’

There was a great cracking sound as Trace closed the gap between them, but the earth seemed to roll underfoot and the cracking turned to a rushing sound – like high wind whispered past the ear – and Cam felt a great thud that shook him to his bones. He barely registered the branches that gripped at him and the twigs that snagged at him as the sapling buckled him. It was a tree he’d heard, he realised wildly, and it had hit him.

He saw Trace’s frantic face and it made him smile. He really does look worried, he thought as the blackness sucked him down.

He could feel his legs, licked by energy. Zinged by lightning. He could feel it all radiating up and down his legs and somewhere he thought he heard a fearsome cry. Cameron had enough awareness to pray it wasn’t one of the beasties they’d been hunting. Enough focus to hope that Trace was safe. But then his head started to throb and the sizzling feel of energy under his skin did nothing to change that. He embraced the dark.

Chapter Fifteen

‘Hello there?’

Cam recognised the voice – mostly. He turned his head but his head bit back, feeling full of wet sand and pain. He blinked, shut his eyes, blinked again. A groan tore out of him and he put a hand over his pounding heart. That hand felt no more powerful than wet tissue paper.

What the hell?

‘Hello?’

Cam grunted and squeezed his eyes tight. Maybe he was dreaming. His brain felt like it was oozing out of his head. His eyes ached and his jaw kept time, thumping along with his pounding heart. ‘Who hello?’ he grumbled. He tried to sit up, but pain exploded behind his eyes so he went back down.

‘It’s me, Father Finn.’ Finn’s voice sounded like he was smiling. Then something cool touched Cameron’s forehead.

‘And I’m here too. It’s Luke. How are you?’

Cameron wondered if the lion was here with his mate or if it was just the Finn and the seer. ‘I feel like someone is standing on my head.’

The memories rolled back and he recalled the not-so-minor tremors that had hit when they were in the gazebo. Remembered running off the platform, and, briefly, the tree falling on him.

‘No one’s standing on your head but you have been out for a while.’

Cam managed to pop one eye open and the world swam into view. The stippled ceiling, the arch of the wall, then the lion’s mate, Luke. ‘How long is a while? And is Trace OK?’

He panicked and tried to sit up again. Father Finn, who was closest to him, gently but firmly pushed Cam back down. ‘He’s fine. He brought you back – carried you.’ A small smile twisted the good father’s lips. ‘He was very upset. The doctor came up, checked you over, wanted to take you to the hospital, but –’

‘But Trace was having none of it,’ Luke said, trying not to smile. ‘You were struck by lightning. Again. You might not remember; it was just after the tree fell on you. Actually, a sapling, thank God, or it might have been worse. It wasn’t big enough to do severe damage but enough to put you out for a bit. You must be made of rubber, son, because the worst the strike did was singe your clothes, and you have a few random blisters on your feet.’

‘Brother Lightning.’ Cam laughed. The laugh hurt; it shook his bones. ‘He can certainly leave reminders that he was there.’

‘Doctor Smith, who came to check you over, said we should watch you until you regained consciousness. Then to call. Shall I call? Get it over with?’ Father Finn asked.

Cam forgot himself and nodded. Skyrockets went off inside his skull and he groaned.

‘Yeah, you might want to stop moving your head so much,’ Luke said.

Finn faded out of the room, presumably to call the doc. ‘How are you really?’ Luke asked. He brushed the hair back off Cam’s forehead.

‘I am freaked out. Is Trace OK?’ Cameron asked.

‘He’s fine.’

‘Is he … mad at me?’

‘Mad at you?’ Luke laughed. ‘He’s fucking frantic. It took us an hour to get him to let anyone near you two nights ago.’

Cam cracked his eyes open. ‘Two nights ago?’

‘Yeah. You’ve been out a while. The doctor said he thought it was more your body’s way of dealing with sheer exhaustion than any serious injury. Trace isn’t here only because he’s taking his shift by the new rift. We made him. He needed a break.’ Luke sat on the edge of the bed and the small motion made vertigo swim through Cam’s body.

‘I’m the best non-date ever.’ Cam laughed, and the pain of the laughter felt like a punishment. A deserved one, no less.

‘Hey, listen, before the father gets back, cut Trace some slack. He’s gruff and rough and he’s been alone a long time. He’s secluded himself in a town that’s already built around seclusion. And he’s carried that burden – the burden of what he did – like a piano strapped to his back. Do you –’

‘I know what he did,’ Cam sighed. He felt as if he’d run a marathon instead of having just woken from a two-day nap.

‘Well, he’s carried that around since he was a kid. He’s beaten into himself that he’s no good in that way. He keeps to himself, mostly, but if you bust through, as a lot of us have, share a meal with him, he’s funny and caring and very intense. But he’s a loner and he lets no one in, period. That’s the rule. The fact that he is so protective of you – Well, man, that is something. Be patient with him. Give him time.’

‘I don’t think I need to worry,’ Cam said. He really wanted to go back to sleep. ‘He made it clear that it was just … you know, sex. Nothing more, nothing less. And I have to respect that.’

Luke laughed. ‘Not to be the buttinsky, but I think you’re both wrong. He cares about you. We practically had to drag him out to the rift.’

‘Tell me about this rift. Tell me what happened.’

Father Finn reappeared and sat in a simple chair at the foot of the bed. ‘I called. Doc Smith is on his way.’

‘Thanks.’ Cam groaned. ‘I think.’

‘I’m telling him what happened, Father,’ Luke said. ‘The quake that knocked the tree on top of you caused a rift – very much like that original rift, just not as big.’

‘Thank God,’ Father Finn interjected.

‘Right,’ Luke said, smiling. ‘We can catch glimpses of what’s on the other side and we can hear things, but so far the crack is holding.’

‘Didn’t someone tell me that the original crack was shut by the seer and some of the magicals?’

Luke shrugged. ‘They’ve tried with this new one. But it won’t seal. Nothing is coming through, and so far it’s not getting bigger, but we can’t close it. Eliot has tried everything, as have some of the witches and the lone fairy we have around these parts.’

‘Fairies?’ Cam groaned.

‘Fairies,’ Luke confirmed. ‘All true.’

‘There’s a real breach. A bigger one, ‘Cam said. He rolled slightly onto his right shoulder and tried to sit up.

Luke held out a hand and he took it. Together they got him in a semi-sitting position.

‘What do you mean?’ Luke asked.

‘If we can find the original …’ His fingers tingled; so did his lips. The soles of his feet buzzed with electricity. Outside, the wind lashed a branch against the window and distant thunder could be heard. ‘Maybe that will shut the smaller rift and turn off all these bleed-through episodes.’

Again, something niggled at the back of his mind. Something he should know. Something that was right. There. On the tip of his brain but untouchable. He shook his head to clear it, and when the world rocked around him he remembered that was a bad, bad idea.

Doc Smith was a short fat, man who reminded Cam of the toys his mother used to buy at the thrift store. They were called Weebles, egg-shaped toys painted to resemble people, and they basically were impossible to knock over. Doc Smith was the doctor Weeble.

The man had a five o’clock shadow, as if he hadn’t remembered to shave – too busy. He wore a white button down and charcoal grey slacks with a matching vest. A stethoscope was draped across the back of his neck and swayed and clicked as he examined Cam’s eyes with his penlight.

‘You appear to be hale and hearty,’ he told Cam. ‘Just a sleep hangover, probably. Not to mention a good knock to the head and being prone for quite a while. Sometimes the body needs a reboot. Get up and move around some – slowly, mind you – and you should be good. Eat some food, have lots of water, the more the better. Give your system a chance to recalibrate. But the good news is I don’t see any indications of a true head injury or even a mild concussion.’

He smiled, and Cameron found himself smiling back. The man had kind brown eyes and pudgy cheeks that, for some reason, made Cam want to squeeze them. Maybe it was the lone dimple.

‘Got it, doc. Thanks.’

‘Can we take him out to the site?’ Luke asked. ‘The new one?’

The doctor didn’t even have to ask what he meant. The whole town must know about the rift. He clucked his tongue and stared at the ceiling, mulling it over.

‘Do you promise to stay right next to him? Or have someone right next to him?’

‘Of course,’ Luke said.

‘Then it’s fine. I just worry because of balance. It’s going to take him a few hours to get his land legs, if you will. Don’t want him to fall over and do real damage after eluding it in the first place!’

Father Finn chuckled and held out a hand. ‘Tea, Doc? I have that Oolong you like. And I just made pumpkin bread.’

Doc Smith patted his round belly and stared at the ceiling again. ‘I shouldn’t, Father.’

‘But you will.’ Finn grinned at the doctor.

Doc Smith chuckled. ‘Ah, you know me too well. Of course! Who can pass up your pumpkin bread? It’s the first, best taste of fall around here.’

The priest and the doctor went off together, clearly friends. Cameron scratched his head and looked at Luke. ‘This is like Mayberry. Only with priests who can be jackals and …’ He waved his hand in the direction the men had taken.

‘Energy manipulators,’ Luke said.

‘Is that what he is?’

Luke nodded. ‘What Doc Smith just told you is spot on because he can read your energy, feel it, even, without any machines or gadgets. If you had a concussion, he’d know, because he’d
feel
a concussion. He took care of me when …’ Luke bared his throat for a moment to show off a still-pink scar across the flesh above his Adam’s apple. ‘He saved my life,’ he finished.

‘Clothes?’ Cam asked, to change the subject.

‘Jeans and a tee OK?’ Luke rifled through Cameron’s meagre belongings.

‘Of course. What else does one wear to go examine a crack in reality?’

Chapter Sixteen

It was the library, of all places. A very small building stuffed with very many books. Back in the section on biology, ironically, a crack had opened in the floor. Luke led the way. They passed Tryg on their way and the lion reached out just to touch Luke as he passed.

Cameron’s heart crimped in his chest. He wanted that. That urge to just reach out and touch someone he cared about because they were close and he needed the contact.

He shook the unwanted thought off and, in doing so, rattled his brains. The world sort of dipped and swirled momentarily and he grabbed Luke’s shoulder for support. It wasn’t just the head shake, though. Maybe it was the rift.

‘You OK?’ Luke stopped to let him get his bearings.

‘I’m fine. Shook my head. That was dumb. Scrambled my brains for a second. But I also feel sort of …’

‘Sick?’ the empath asked.

‘Yeah. Sick to my stomach. Woozy. Like my damn knees might buckle at any given moment. I didn’t feel weak or nauseous until we got here.’

‘Almost everyone complains of it. We think it’s the rift. A lot of the folks you talked to about their encounters said they felt the same, but it slipped their mind. They assumed it was just them or something they ate. I think it’s the two realities rubbing up against each other. It’s not a good thing, and it’s bound to create some kind of physical effect on us. I get it a bit worse, I think. The whole feeling other people’s stuff thing.’ He gave a wan smile.

‘How much worse?’ Cam was suddenly worried for his new friend.

‘I could just let go and hurl right now.’ Luke laughed. He took Cam’s arm and tugged him along. ‘But I won’t and neither will you. Not a single person has actually gotten sick yet. Plus,’ he whispered as they got closer, ‘there is a wolf I have a feeling is going to be particularly glad to see you. Even if he doesn’t show it.’

That kicked off a flock of butterflies in Cam’s stomach. They didn’t mix well with the anxiety and nausea. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his knocking heart. It was a task in the absurd – there was no way he was going to slow it down.

They moved forward and he saw the very edge of the crack. Before he could look any deeper, he saw Trace. The wolf’s head shot up and his eyes found him. Cam’s stomach dropped to somewhere around his knees and he felt giddy with happiness. It was disgusting, really, but he didn’t dwell on how weak he was when it came to this man. He couldn’t because Trace was moving toward him – fast.

‘Is he ma –?’

‘His heart is pounding and his pulse is off the charts,’ Luke said, and stepped to the side to give the wolf room.

‘Are you OK?’ Trace asked. He was barely a foot away, but the energy coming off him was tangible even to non-magical Cameron.

‘I –’ He opened his mouth to speak and was cut off by the press of Trace’s lips. It was so unexpected Cameron made a surprised “
wuh
!” noise even as the bigger man deepened the kiss.

Fuck it, he thought. And he let himself go. He fell forward into the kiss with all of himself and just stopped worrying. In a minute, Trace would realise what he was doing. That he was doing it in front of everyone. And then he’d stop. Cameron figured he should just enjoy the shock of it all while it lasted.

Their tongues danced over one another for a heart-stopping second, and then someone wolf whistled and someone else clapped. Trace pulled back and levelled those surreal lavender eyes at Cameron.

‘You’re awake.’

‘Are you sure? Because that kiss kind of felt like I was dreaming,’ Cam stammered. He was too happy and, yes, turned on to worry about how unsure his voice sounded.

‘Are you OK?’ Trace said. He didn’t even smile. His eyes darted around Cam’s face and body like he was checking for mortal wounds. All the while he kept a grip on Cam’s shoulders with his big, strong hands.

‘Doc Smith said I’m good. No concussion. No major injury. Just a big-ass nap and my body trying to recoup.’

Trace nodded and very reluctantly let Cameron go. ‘I’m almost done here.’

‘OK.’

Then it hit him and Trace cocked his head. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Luke brought me to the rift. Wanted me to see what was going on.’

That made Trace frown. His lips pressed together tight and his eyes flashed predatory in the muted light. It was dark enough in the library that Cameron didn’t need to wear sunglasses to shield his still-sensitive eyes. Just a few feet away, men and women clustered around the rift. A soft bellowing – almost like a cow lowing – could be heard.

‘It’s not safe.’ Trace looked like he wouldn’t move if they set explosives off under his feet.

‘They brought me here to help.’

‘You trying to help could have killed you,’ the wolf said.

‘Anything, any time could kill me,’ Cameron said, keeping his voice soft. He wanted to say “why do you care? What does it matter to you? Do you care about me? How could that be; you’re a loner and it’s only been days?” But he let it go.

‘We really need him to see it, Trace,’ Luke interrupted. ‘We’ll try to keep it short.’

‘Is that a request or an order, seer?’ Trace snapped.

From a few feet behind them a growl rumbled. Cam turned to see that Tryg had made his way toward them. Trace snorted and growled right back, his eyes flashing with gold again. ‘I can do the same, lion.’

‘Stop,’ Cameron whispered. ‘Why don’t
you
take me to the crack so I can see?’

Trace’s jaw was tight with tension, but after a minute he gave a brisk nod. ‘OK. Fine. Let’s go, then.’

The wolf took his hand and gently tugged him forward. As he got closer, Cameron felt sicker. Cam wished this was just a date for the two of them. A night out instead of a Scooby Doo mission. Only the last time a proper crack had opened, a girl had died. Albeit a girl who sounded like she deserved it. She’d called the freaking thing forth; she should be the one to feed its dark appetites, after all. But still …

‘Stay back from it. Don’t get too close. We have no idea if it will open or how much. I want you –’ Trace bit off his sentence and Cam found himself holding his breath. ‘We want you to stay safe.’

Cam nodded, trying not to show his disappointment in the change in pronoun. Why couldn’t he have finished that sentence by himself, without the bolster of “we”?

The crack didn’t really glow like Cameron imagined it would. The image in his mind had been something from a TV show. It was more like a crack in the wall and people were on the other side. You could almost hear them, even if you couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their presence was unmistakable. But this wasn’t voices. It seemed to be dry, whispery sounds and chitinous sounds and like he’d thought earlier – an almost lowing sound like a cow. Something dragged along the other side of the crack. Which would technically be under the floor. However, Cameron felt certain that if he raced into the library’s basement he’d find nothing more sinister than a basement.

Cam turned at the sound of a booming voice and couldn’t help but smile when Slaughter and Eliot pushed their way back through the library.

‘There he is! The man who battled the sapling – and lost.’ Sheriff Slaughter winked and stuck out his hand. Cam shook. ‘We were worried about you. Glad to see you up and about. Last time I saw you I was doing a shift by your bed and you were out of it. But for the muttering.’

‘Shadows. Wet shadows,’ Eliot said, nodding. ‘We don’t know what it means. Do you?’

Cam shook his head and regretted it. ‘No. Sorry. Give me time and maybe –’

‘No matter,’ Slaughter said. ‘It’ll come to you or it won’t.’ He took Cam’s arm and tugged.

Cameron had a split second where he was sure Trace was not going to let go. But then his finger uncurled and he let the sheriff lead Cam a bit closer to the crack.

‘How about now?’ the sheriff asked. ‘This shake any memories loose?’

Cameron sighed. ‘No,’ he said. He had to be honest.

Something slid along the opposite side of the crack. It sounded like a fingernail being dragged over nylon. It was an oddly threatening sound. Something trying to find a way in. Trying to figure it all out and develop a plan of infiltration. He suppressed a shiver and studied the crack further. Too narrow to really see anything tangible other than the vague shadow of movements. And soft sounds. Another monster-cow noise and he started.

‘Weird noise, right?’ Slaughter scratched his head.

‘Definitely.’ Cameron yawned, trying to cover it quickly. He failed.

‘I’ll let you go. You’re just up and around. It’s just we’ve tried everything to close this son of a bitch. My fear –’ he dropped his voice and leant in ‘– is that if we get another tremor it will open more rifts. Or open this one all the way.’

Cameron was afraid of the same thing. ‘If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. I have to ask, though, how close are we to the falls?’

‘Maybe a quarter mile. Probably less. Why, you still think –?’

‘It makes sense.’

‘It does.’

Cam’s head was starting to ache. He shut his eyes and rubbed the middle of his forehead to try and ward off the headache. There it was – behind his eyes – that niggling, shadowy …
something
. Something he’d seen that just didn’t want to come back to him. Something that had seemed so silly or small. And yet …

The pounding got worse and he felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Let’s let him relax,’ Eliot’s voice said, and Cam opened his eyes. ‘Come on, Sam. You can buy me a cup of coffee.’ She grinned at Cam, then her eyes grew concerned. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

‘I will,’ he promised.

They wandered off, and Cam felt another hand clamp onto him. But this hand he’d been intimate with. Lips pressed to his ear. ‘My shift is over. Let me take you home to rest.’

Cameron gave a short nod and let Trace hustle him off. They made their way away from the sizeable cluster of bodies and down a hallway to the fiction section. The library smelled the way Cam loved – dust, books, quiet and peace. The smell was unmistakable.

‘Just a second,’ Trace growled. He gently but firmly pushed Cam into the room and forced him up against a bookshelf. ‘I need something before we go.’

His mouth was hot and sweet on Cameron’s, and the way the wolf kissed him, Cam felt a small, shivery sob almost burst out of him, but he managed to bite it back. His whole body felt heavy and weak to the point of collapse but in an undeniably pleasant way. As if he were simply surrendering to whatever this man wanted from him.

Trace’s fingers tugged at Cam’s jean button and the zipper sounded like a buzz saw as he pulled it down. It was so quiet in the room the sound was immense.

‘What do you need?’ Cam managed before the wolf licked his lips and kissed him again.

‘Just this.’ Trace shoved his hand into Cam’s boxer briefs. His fingers were hot and strong around Cam’s cock. He squeezed with enough force to make Cam’s balls ache and his stomach tumble. God, how he wanted to come at the hands of this intense man. What a mind fuck Trace was. What a blessed, sexy mind fuck.

Trace moved in closer so very little negative space remained between them. He latched his mouth onto Cam’s neck and sucked before dragging his tongue down to his clavicle and giving Cam a little bite there. Cam’s cock jerked in the bigger man’s hand and Trace chuckled. He shoved Cam’s pants down around his hips and took him in hand properly. His upper body crushed against Cameron’s and his mouth never stopped, brushing over Cam’s lips and cheekbones, over his throat, and then giving him a love bite on the shoulder. Even through his tee, Cameron knew there was a mark on him. A mark on his skin made by the wolf, and that turned him on so much he thought for a brief and terrifying second he’d come right there.

‘Are you OK?’ Cam asked. His breath was a gasp as those hot fingers closed tighter around him. As that fist worked him perfectly as if the wolf could read his mind – his breath – what was in his heart.

Trace grunted, reaching down to cup Cam’s balls in his free hand. That hand was hot too – a startling, balmy heat that made Cam think of the beach during high summer. Trace cupped him, kissed him, worked him until Cameron was gasping and thrusting into the eager hand that slid along his shaft.

‘I’m fine,’ Trace growled.

‘You seem upset?’

‘Not upset. I’m relieved.’ His lips brushed over Cam’s, and Cameron wished he could see Trace’s eyes. Wished he could see his expression, but they were too close up and his eyes kept wanting to close, being on the verge of orgasm as he was.

‘Relieved?’

Another drag of the wolf’s broad, wet tongue down his neck and he did shiver. A violent tremor surged through him that was much like what he’d experienced during a bout of high fever.

‘Relieved that you’re OK. You’re really a piece of work, Lightning Boy.’

The wolf swept his thumb over Cam’s tip, sliding the precome that graced his glans over the sensitive skin. Cameron sobbed and Trace licked the sound off his lips.

‘Why-why-why?’ Cameron said, on the verge of losing it. So close, and yet he wanted this to last.

‘It’s just hard to accept that I’m happy I didn’t lose something I didn’t even know I wanted.’

Cameron heard the words, processed them, and his body made the decision for him. One more good squeeze and stroke and he was coming. Great bursts of joy sounding off deep inside him, making him shake, making him weaker. But that was OK.

Trace came in for another kiss. ‘Didn’t even know you wanted?’ Cam managed before the kiss cut him off.

‘Not babies and a formal wedding and picket fences,’ Trace said, his defence mechanism of sarcasm surging fast to the surface.

Cameron barked out a laugh even as his new lover gave his cock an affectionate squeeze and another surge of bliss spread through him. ‘No?’ he half laughed.

Trace pulled back and looked him in the eye. Now Cam could see his eyes and his expression. What he saw was humbling.

‘No.’ Trace pressed his lips together and tentatively tried on a smile. ‘But a chance. I want a chance. And I didn’t want that until you rolled into town. Literally.’

Cameron’s heart felt like someone had folded it in half and stapled it. It was the best possible hurt he’d ever experienced. That fearful flex of what might just be … something more than like. The problem was he didn’t know what to say. He reached for Trace on instinct, his fingers stumbling over the silver buckle on the man’s big, black belt.