When Will I See You Again

WHEN WILL I SEE YOU AGAIN

…Alexx’s eyes met the other man’s. Raoul’s were very golden. He wasn’t aware such colors even existed in the spectrum of the human eye. But then again, he didn’t have any friends who were werewolves either. He wondered if this was a sign that perhaps this man was about to change, right here and now.

The thought was both exhilarating and frightening.

Alexx’s vision telescoped until he wasn’t aware of anything but the gorgeous man in front of him. Blood pounded in his ears and his mouth felt suddenly dry. Having lost all sense of the others in the room, he was surprised when he felt his chair yanked out from under him. Before he could fall, a hand grabbed the scruff of his neck, propelling him to his feet. He glanced at his companion. Miller was being subjected to the same surly treatment.

“You waste my time for this?” Raoul’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. Alexx found himself wildly attracted to him. “I have somewhere I need to be. Paolo, please show these
gentlemen
out.”
Sarcastic
much?
He turned and reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it.

A shaggy blond with hazel eyes and a cheerful countenance stuck his head inside. “Hey, Paolo—” He interrupted himself at the sight of the occupants of the room.

Alexx heard Miller’s sigh of relief, even as he too recognized the newcomer. He’d seen him around the
Chronicle
often enough, although he’d never really spoken to him. Foster Levine, son of the
Chronicle’s
owner—heir apparent and future newspaper magnate.

Alexx’s relief quickly changed to anxiety. What if Foster knew how old he really was? He couldn’t be sure one way or the other, but for the sake of argument, he had to assume he did. Would he out him to Raoul Marchand and his burly minion? Had they simply jumped from the frying pan to be scorched by the fire?…

WHEN WILL I

SEE YOU AGAIN

BY

JULIE LYNN HAYES

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

WHEN WILL I SEE YOU AGAIN

AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2014 by by Julie Lynn Hayes ISBN 978-1-61124-547-9

Cover Art © 2014 Trace Edward Zaber

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To Michelle, for her unwavering friendship and support,
and for making me believe in myself and this story.

October 31, 1992

“Tell me again why we left the party?”

Raoul leapt over a rotten plank in the boardwalk. The fake sword in the scabbard at his hip rattled when he landed on the other side. Falling to one knee, he quickly recovered his balance and resumed the chase, following the whistled cadence of Ravel’s “Bolero.”

Slightly ahead of him, he watched as Jamie whirled to face him. An errant breeze caught in Jamie’s voluminous cape, one that carried the salty tang of the sea. The dark fabric billowed about him, framing his slender, blond figure. Raoul noted the mischief that gleamed in Jamie’s light green eyes. He couldn’t help but
smile.

“What do you mean?” Jamie asked in an artfully guileless manner that fooled no one.

“Don’t you like my friends?” Raoul’s long strides closed the gap between him and his boyfriend.

“You know I do.”

“Werewolves not good enough for you anymore?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Then why…” By now, he’d caught up to his target. Further discussion was tabled as Jamie effectively stopped Raoul’s words with his lips, first removing his rather unwieldy fangs, dropping them. They plinked upon the wood. Rather than argue, Raoul gave in, twining his arms about the other boy, their bodies melding together.

Hearts beat as one as they devoured one another’s mouths, tasting and sucking and licking feverishly.

“Because I want you to make love to me…that’s why.” Jamie tugged at the bandana that covered Raoul’s long, dark hair.

How Jamie loved to play hairdresser—Raoul was his favorite model. As they’d dressed for the party, he’d gathered some of the loose strands and plaited them behind his head, leaving the rest to fall in free-flowing waves to his shoulders, beneath the bright red pirate’s kerchief. Jamie had also picked out the gold satin breeches Raoul wore, which were tight as hell and which Raoul insisted no self-respecting pirate would be caught dead in. But when Jamie said that the pants accented his gorgeous ass, and then he gave him that look—the one that pierced his soul and went straight to his cock, the one that told him more than mere words that Jamie wanted him as badly as he wanted Jamie—then Raoul was lost and he surrendered himself to Jamie’s every wish. He always did, and
he always would.

Jamie pulled the bandana off and released it. It fluttered down to the sand in the darkness.

“Hey, I might want that back!” Raoul protested. But Jamie only laughed.

To other people, Raoul was someone you didn’t fuck with. He was one hundred seventy pounds of pure muscle behind a deceptively handsome face and, especially when the moon was full, he was a force to be reckoned with. But in Jamie’s skilled hands, he was pure pussycat—whipped to the last drop.

Jamie hooked one leg about Raoul, pulling their bodies into closer proximity. Raoul moaned at the feel of his boyfriend’s very unmistakable erection. “I’ll get you another one,” he promised in a lust-laced voice. “But for now, I want you naked.”

“Where?” Raoul gasped. No sense in arguing, Jamie was stubborn. Besides, he wanted Jamie just as badly.

“Our spot,” Jamie breathily responded.

He should have known.

Gently, Raoul swatted at Jamie’s ass. Instantly his boyfriend gave a little hop, scissoring his legs about Raoul’s waist, locking his feet together against the small of his back. Raoul had werewolf strength on his side, and Jamie didn’t weigh very much.

He clutched Jamie tightly and quickly leapt from the boardwalk to the beach, his boot heels sinking into the sand. He pulled one foot free, widening his stance and shifting his weight. Finding his balance, he strode purposefully toward a more private spot. Their lips were locked together once more. There was nothing else to be said.

Raoul headed down the beach, never relinquishing his hold on his precious Jamie. Far enough away that the lights from the house
they’d just left winked out behind them. Far enough that the terrain began to change. The beach narrowed here, butting up against the rising swell of the unforgiving bluffs. No one lived down this far, not even summer dwellers. As this part of the beach was private property belonging to Raoul’s family, access was further limited and zealously guarded. He skirted a small tide pool—under other circumstances, he’d stop so they could admire its many fascinating inhabitants, perhaps collect a few shells, but not tonight. Tonight was Halloween, and Raoul wanted to howl, in the worst possible way.

The farther he walked, the more hard pressed he was to keep Jamie from divesting him of his pirate garb until they reached their private spot. Jamie seemed determined to leave Raoul’s costume strewn across the sand in a Hansel and Gretel trail of clothing. The satin sash that matched the breeches had already been tossed, along with the cheap sword. Jamie’d already undone most of the buttons on the billowy white blouse, and removed the clip earrings from both ears.

“Let me pierce your ears!” Jamie had whispered in his ear, in the backseat of his impossibly small car, just two nights ago. Raoul hated that miserable little vehicle, but it was better than nothing.

And it did in a pinch.

“I don’t need any more holes in my head, thank you,” he snarled.

“Baby!” Jamie had teased him, both with his words and with his tongue, running it along the outer shell of Raoul’s ear until, with a growl, he pushed him down on the seat and loved him hard and fast.

Finally, they’d reached a compromise—gold clip-on hoops.

Raoul wore them grudgingly, but he found they pinched his ears
with demonic tightness—he began to wonder if he wouldn’t have been better off with the studs that came along with the piercing instead.

Their usual spot was sandy. Just a smattering of short-bladed grass maintained a tenuous hold in the uncertain soil. The sand was finer along this part of the beach, yet tended to be cooler, especially at night, away from the direct rays of the sun. There were fewer rocks here, for which Raoul was grateful, for he invariably ended up with his ass planted firmly on the ground, sparing Jamie the discomfort. Sometimes he displayed an almost old-fashioned protectiveness when it came to his lover. Not that he wasn’t the top in their relationship, because he was, but when they came here, he simply topped from the bottom.

Their spot lay between two short outcroppings of rock. To the outsider, they appeared to be a natural part of the landscape. On closer inspection, they revealed themselves as manmade, cunningly constructed to blend in with the environment. That was Raoul’s contribution to their little hideaway. He’d built it himself, painstakingly and with great care. The rocks also served as a great windbreak. At times the wind off the ocean could be brutal on tender skin.

They’d arrived at last. Raoul reluctantly released him and Jamie lowered his legs, stretching them out. He occupied his hands with stripping his boyfriend of what little remained of his costume.

Raoul was equally busy with de-vampifying Jamie. Jamie had a wicked sense of humor—he’d deliberately chosen the vampire costume to play upon the supernatural rivalry between vampires and lycanthropes. He loved to get his werewolf lover’s goat every chance he got. But in a loving way.

Jamie raked his fingers through Raoul’s long locks. “Let me
curl your hair,” he begged, lovingly kissing the strands. “That would be so hot.”

Raoul growled. “Fuck no. Do you want me to look like a sissy?”

“Like you ever could.” Jamie laughed, brushing his lips along Raoul’s jawline. “Mmm, someone needs a shave.”

“Hush, it’s not that bad.” They dropped to their knees, facing one another, fully naked, except for the matching rings on their fingers. The rings they’d exchanged when they’d promised to stay together forever.

Raoul pulled him close, inhaling the intoxicating scent that was one part the designer fragrance he wore and nine parts Jamie. This was one of the perks of being a werewolf—his olfactory senses were sensitive beyond that of most men, and they seemed to connect directly to his cock.

He skimmed his hands lightly down Jamie’s bare back, feather light touches along the natural curve of his spine. He paused at the dip just above his ass, exploring the vertebrae. Then he grasped his globes, squeezing them firmly. Jamie moaned.

“Take me,” he begged. “Take me now, Raoul.”

Raoul shifted, extending his long muscular legs, falling back on the sand. He lifted Jamie easily with him as he moved, laying him out atop his body with practiced ease. Jamie thrust his hips, wantonly grinding his cock against Raoul’s.