Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 06 - Reverence (7 page)

There was, unsurprisingly to him, a first-aid kit in the cabinet. Since everything he needed except self-esteem had been stocked in the apartment, he’d figured the kit would be there. He hadn’t had one before, but it was really neat, filled with just about everything someone would need in an emergency, short of an actual doctor. Harley took out a packaged antiseptic wipe and tore it open. There was a mild sting as he went over his knuckles but nothing too bad. After tossing the wipe, he closed the kit and put it away.

His stomach rumbling, Harley tried to remember the last time he had eaten. Probably, if he didn’t include a snack when he just had to eat or fall over from hunger, then it would have been some time when he’d been with the shifters. Cooking was just too much effort and anyway, he wasn’t anywhere close to being a chef. Mac and cheese, he could manage, but even that, one of his main comfort foods, was unappealing.

Besides, he figured it would be dark in a couple of hours, and he needed to decide what he was going to do. He averted his gaze from the bedroom as he passed it. The living room wasn’t quite so pretty now, with his laundry piling up in one corner and the bags of new clothes he’d bought in another. Harley shrugged. He hadn’t been willing to check for clothes in the bedrooms, so he’d just deal with the mess.

Rationally, he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding the bedroom, or could he? As long as he did laundry and folded his clothes, maybe bought a nice cabinet or something to store them in, what would it matter if he lived in the living room? It wouldn’t.

A check of the time and Harley groaned. That creepy feeling was trying to come back, the one that made him want to curl up on the floor and totally lose his shit like he had the first day he’d returned. Every night, he’d fled from it, and tonight would be no different. Harley remembered his fear in the bathroom. Okay, it’d be a little different. He’d stop, buy some condoms—flavoured ones, because latex was just ew-tasting—and stay sober enough to remember to use them. No lube, because none of those things were going near his ass. Harley could let men use his mouth, but that was it.

The hard part would be staying that sober. Harley knew he’d be tempted by the drugs and booze just as he had been the past few nights. It made him forget, which maybe wasn’t such a good thing after all since he couldn’t say who he’d blown and whether or not they’d been safe or anything.

“Fucking idiot.” Harley started digging through the bags, then glared at the door when more racket came from the shared hall. He hoped his new neighbour was a hell of a lot quieter once he or she was moved in.

Tight black pants with silver stitching and a shiny silver long-sleeved shirt would do for tonight. Harley checked himself in the mirror as well as he could. Maybe a full-length mirror was in order. He tousled his hair, not overly concerned with it. He could style it all nice and everything, but ten minutes of dancing and he’d have product running into his eyes, so why bother. His right hand ached slightly and his ribs were tender, but Harley decided to forgo any ibuprofen. He didn’t know what he’d ingested the prior nights and didn’t want to risk having his liver or kidneys shrivel up inside him.

“Stupid to be afraid of that, considering,” he told himself. Harley forced his gaze to look in the mirror. “Tomorrow, you will go get tested somewhere. Tonight, you will not get so stoned you suck any and every guy around. And, no condom, no sucking. Remember that.”

He shouldn’t go out at all, but he was. Harley couldn’t stay in the apartment, and anyway, he was already contaminated by Dobson and his men. No amount of cleaning himself could remove the filth they’d left in him. Harley made sure he had his wallet and keys, then he left, locking his door saying a silent thanks that he didn’t meet the new neighbour in the hallway.

* * * *

It just felt wrong, living apart from the pack. Especially, Val admitted, when it was probably going to be for life, either his or Harley’s. He wished he’d got the picture of Harley from Nathan, but he and Marcus had ended up leaving suddenly. It was okay, though. He had been given his apartment number and knew Harley’s was beside it. He’d see what the man looked like soon enough, he supposed.

The movers had been humans, and noisy ones at that. Val wished he had his full shifter senses back, but like his wolf, they were suppressed, either permanently or temporarily. Would they return full-force once his wolf came out of the dark place it was hiding in him? Val hoped so, though he knew he’d never regain the sight in his left eye. That damage wasn’t just relegating his sight to that of a normal human being’s, he was fucking blind, period. At least his right eye still worked well, even if his wolf’s sharp acuity had dimmed significantly.

Sitting around moping about it all wasn’t going to do him any good either. Val waved off the movers’ offer to help him set up the place—he just wanted them gone. They’d no doubt been paid for their extra efforts, but Val was in no mood to be around people. One of the movers, Hank or Hal or some other H-name, had seemed to be flirting with him, even. It made Val uncomfortable and probably bitchy, or tactless at the very least. He was willing to bet the guy wouldn’t come back around again.

Val looked at the boxes and furniture and sighed as he started rubbing his left thigh. The damn thing ached, and a hot shower sounded ideal, except before he could take a step towards the bathroom, he heard the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway. As close as it was, Val knew it had to be Harley Johansen. Val turned from where he had his back to the door and instead pressed his face to the warm surface as he peered through the peephole.

Maybe it was just because it’d been a while, or maybe it was because the guy was hot, Val didn’t know, but his dick hardened so fast he wouldn’t have been surprised if it’d drilled through the door. Harley Johansen, if that was really him, was a sexy little stud, and he was obviously going out looking for a fuck, dressed in those tight clothes. His honey-blond hair had a slight wave to it, and fell almost to his shoulders. Val squinted through the hole and thought he caught a glimpse of green eyes, but couldn’t be sure.

Harley—it had to be him, he’d come from the right apartment—turned and strode for the stairs. His tight little butt was a temptation that made Val want to run out of the door and fuck the man right there against the wall.

Val scoffed at the thought. Yeah, that would be keeping himself in the shadows, jumping Harley’s bones. Besides, someone who looked like him would never be of interest to Harley Johansen. Val was big, rough, scarred—and a shifter, he couldn’t forget that. Harley hated them, so Val needed to keep his horny thoughts to himself.

But, he mused as Harley entered the stairwell, he didn’t need to stay there while Harley went out prowling. Who knew what dangers awaited the guy? There could be other shifters wanting to eliminate him as a threat to their species, or some ass just waiting for a small, delicate-looking guy like Harley to fall into his hands. Joshua Dobson wasn’t the only sadistic bastard in the world. Well, hadn’t been was probably the correct terminology since the fucker was dead.

The point was, Val knew there were plenty of mean men who’d get their rocks off on hurting someone like Harley. Even the brief glimpse Val had of the man told him Harley was damaged. Maybe Val was superimposing his own opinion on Harley, because he knew Dobson had hurt the little human. Sure, Val didn’t know the details, but Harley had been abused in some manner. He guessed Harley could be over it and—

“And I gotta stop this shit.” Val patted his pocket, felt the keys there, then he left his place, locking it up before heading to the elevator. He wasn’t quick enough, or quiet enough, probably, to take the stairs. Besides, if Harley hung around and saw him coming out of the stairwell, that’d likely seem suspicious.

The elevator dinged in seconds and Val entered the car, smiling slightly at the elderly woman inside it. No need to scowl and scare his neighbours, or apartment building mates. Val gave himself a mental eye roll at his rambling thoughts. It seemed sometimes like his mind just wouldn’t shut up about the silliest things.

He waited for the lady to disembark, then he did the same. He spotted the stairway door and noted that Harley wasn’t on the ground floor of the building. Had he missed him? Or was Harley still making his way down? Well, hell, for all he knew, Harley could have a thing going with someone in the apartment building. Val scowled and walked to the doors. He stepped outside and moved into the shadows. If Harley didn’t come out in a few minutes, he’d track him up the stairs, see if his sense of smell was at least usable still. Of course, since he hadn’t tried to parse out Harley’s scent on their floor, how would he know what the guy smelt like?

“Idiot,” he muttered just as the doors opened. The man he was certain was Harley

Johansen stepped outside and promptly shivered.
“Hey, Harley, need a cab tonight?” a taxi driver called out. Well, he had his answer
about who he was following, didn’t he? Val glared at the driver and silently willed Harley to
say no. There wasn’t another cab out, at least not near that he could see, and Val couldn’t
keep up with a freaking vehicle.
But he could try tracking Harley if he had to, right? Val closed his eyes and
concentrated on smelling, on drawing in one scent out of the many in the area. The bitter
burn of chemicals from the cab’s exhaust fumes made it next to impossible to smell much of
anything else. Val thought he caught a whiff of something delicious, something warm and
sensuous that made his semi-erect dick firm fully again, but then it was gone and he opened
his eyes just in time to see Harley getting in the cab.
“Scoundrels,” he heard Harley say before closing the cab door. The driver pulled away
and Val stared at the tail lights stupidly for a few minutes until the car turned. The visual
loss spurred him into doing his actual job.
Val found the address for a club called Scoundrels on his phone, then he called for a
cab. Belatedly, he glanced at the clothes he had on and groaned. Dirty jeans and sweaty shirt,
scuffed boots… Val slapped at his pants, trying to knock off some of the grunge. It wasn’t too
bad, really, just moving dirt. He hadn’t been rolling in mud or anything, but he had been hot,
and sweaty, and yeah, he probably had that man-scent down too well. Maybe he could have
the driver stop at a gas station or somewhere he could grab some deodorant— No, he didn’t need to bother. He wasn’t out cruising for cock. Hopefully his appearance
would discourage anyone from coming near him. Val couldn’t imagine having to fight off
horny men, not in the state he was in now. All he needed to do was keep an eye on Harley,
that was it. He moved over to the kerb to wait for the taxi.
After a few minutes, his skin prickled with the creepy sensation of being watched.
Every fine hair on his body was on alert, he’d bet. Val silently cursed his blindness on the left
side. He couldn’t help but turn his head to look that way, which made it obvious that he
was
looking.
And he couldn’t see a single suspicious thing! Val growled softly then promptly bit the
sound off. If someone was following Harley, it had to be another shifter, and one with senses
that weren’t fucked up all to hell and back like Val’s. Every sound he made, everything he
felt if he didn’t control himself, could roll off him in scents of anger and fear. Val put his best
acting effort forward and sighed heartily. He rubbed at his left eye, lifting the patch, actually
relishing the cool air on his skin there. He looked left, right, left again, making it obvious,
then he checked the time on his phone and tapped one foot.
Maybe he was overacting, but he was still being watched, he’d bet everything he’d ever
owned on it. Val used his restlessness and irritation over his own limitations, conveying, he
hoped, impatience at the length of the wait for his ride. Whoever was watching him never
moved on, not even when the taxi pulled up finally. Val got in and quickly scanned the dark
area he’d felt his watcher hiding in, off to the front left of the vehicle. The headlights cast
away some of the shadows, but Val saw no one lingering. Whoever it was had most likely
run when the cab showed up, knowing the lights would expose them.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Val leant back in the seat and rubbed his thigh as he gave the address. He hoped
whoever had been out there wasn’t from his pack. Maybe, if they weren’t, they wouldn’t
have caught on to who or what he was. It was the only bit of hope he could dredge up right
then.

Chapter Five

Scoundrels wasn’t the best club in Sedona, but it wasn’t the scuzziest, either. Harley had picked it because he’d once been comfortable here. In fact, more than a few of his hookups had begun here then ended very satisfactorily in his bed. It’d been almost four months since he’d been to Scoundrels, and he was relieved to find it hadn’t changed. Why that relief was so, he hadn’t a clue, except maybe that it seemed as if everything else in his life was altered, so the familiarity of the club was very welcome.

The club was decently packed, and the men filling the place tonight were, for the most part, attractive enough. Harley spotted bears, cubs, chubs and twinks, and every other label people flung around. He didn’t care who was what, as long as he found someone or a few someones to help him not think for the night.

The music pounded through the speakers, and the dance floor was crowded, guys grinding and gyrating—all except one couple, and Harley’s gaze was drawn to them amidst the swaying, sweaty bodies. An older man, his hair sprinkled with white, held another guy who was probably around the same age. Harley would guess mid-to-late forties. They danced as if in their own world, slowly, lost in each other and whatever music they made between them. Harley’s eyes pricked and his chest ached, and he didn’t want to examine either of those sensations, but he couldn’t look away.

Someone bumped into him from behind, a not so subtle grope of his ass followed shortly thereafter, and Harley spun around to see who was copping a feel. A rather handsome man smirked at him, but there was something in the guy’s eyes that gave Harley the willies and brought to mind a weasel, one of his least favourite animals.

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