Levi (22 page)

Authors: Bailey Bradford

Tags: #Gay MM/ Wereshifter/ Paranormal

God, he sounded like a needy twit, but…he needed Lyndon. He couldn’t hide it.

“I have no reason to roam anymore,” Lyndon pointed out. “And I’ve got every reason to stay right here with you.” He stroked Levi’s back, a sure caress guaranteed to soon lull him into sleep. “Besides, I have a family here to watch over.”

“You do,” Levi assured him, so happy he thought he’d just burst with it. Then he tipped his head back and waited for Lyndon to meet his gaze. When he did, the warm gold colour seemed to glow, as if lit internally. “Your family loves you, you know. I love you.” It came out so easily, and here Levi had been trying to keep it back for fear of—
what? Saying it first? Well, it appears I am an idiot! Especially considering the way Lyndon’s smiling at me now! Shoulda told him as soon as I realised it.

Lyndon rolled Levi onto his back, covering Levi with his strong, muscled body. He framed Levi’s face in his hands, sinking his fingers into Levi’s hair. “I love you too.”

Levi smiled and nuzzled against Lyndon’s palm. “Good.” And it was. After spending a week with his cousins, listening to them going on about their love lives, Levi had been left feeling like he’d never have anyone. But now he had this incredible man to spend his life with. Levi opened for him, offering Lyndon everything, and he knew whatever happened in the future, they could handle it, as long as they had each other.

Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Leopard’s Spots: Oscar

Bailey Bradford

Released 19
^thMarch 2012

Excerpt

Chapter One

How in the
hell
did he manage to get himself in such freakin’ messes? He’d lost the tips of a couple of fingers in a trap, and been pinned down in the bathroom at school more than once, had been left butt baked in the gym dressing room when some jerk had taken off with all his clothes while he showered. He’d been bullied and if he hadn’t been smart and
quick, he’d probably have been hurt worse than he had.

But if he’d been
really
smart those times, he wouldn’t have been in any danger in the first place back then, wouldn’t have been hurt, right? Which was pretty much the case for the crap he’d got himself into tonight—he hadn’t been smart at all, he’d been horny.
Dad is really gonna be pissed off.
This crowned all his prior close calls and messes, that was for sure.

Oscar Travis didn’t consider himself a coward by any means, but it was sure hard not to tremble with fear when he found himself cornered by four huge men.
Not just men. Shifters.
Like him, except they weren’t snow leopards.

They weren’t cougar shifters either, like Oscar’s brother in law Lyndon, and since Oscar had only ever been around his own kind until Lyndon had showed up, he didn’t recognise the tangy, bitter scent rolling off the four men.
Huge. Shifters. So much more dangerous than mere men.

One of them—possibly the largest of the four, though it was hard for Oscar to tell—leaned in and sniffed. “Smells like pussy to me.”

Oscar’s top lip seemed determined to curl up in a snarl even though his brain told it not to as the four shifters chortled and slapped each other on the back. Yeah, they were brilliant, just like a heaping pile of—

“I don’t think this little boy is amused,” another of the shifters said. This one had orange hair and freckles, and looked like he could snap Oscar in two in a heartbeat.

“Little pussy, ya mean,” rumbled the third one, who smelt particularly foul. “Bet his is nice and tight. You ever had a real man fuck your pussy?”

Oscar’s cheeks couldn’t possibly burn any hotter without actually catching fire. He’d never heard the term pussy in reference to any of his own body parts before, but he was quick enough to figure out what part of him was being talked about. And he’d be damned if he was going to be gang-raped by a bunch of stinky, stupid bastards! He hoped to God the bouncers here were paying attention.

Oscar cocked his head and raked the four men with a scathing look. “I have, and I came here looking for a real man. If you assholes would move, maybe I could find one.” And with those words as a warning—or not—Oscar lashed out. He’d had enough time to start a concentrated shift, something he’d been working on—something he hadn’t known was possible until it occurred to him to try.

He was glad he had, because whipping his claw-tipped paws instead of fists from his pockets threw the four idiots for a loop and gave Oscar an advantage he desperately needed. He’d become pretty well-coordinated once he got through those god-awful teenage years—and he wasn’t going to bitch about nineteen still being teenaged, because legally he was a damned adult and had been for a year.

Oscar slashed his right hand across the biggest man’s chest while catching the orange haired man in the jaw. He tried to keep his claws out of the hit as much as he could. The same went for the one to the chest. Oscar only wanted to scare these bullies off, not kill them.
Yet
.

Oscar went cold inside and a shiver rolled down his back. He was always afraid he’d want to kill again, even if he hadn’t wanted to kill the first time. Still, he was part beast, part wild thing, and it’d been the untamed part of him that had ripped out another shifter’s throat.

What if it happens again?
Oscar shoved the thought aside as he pulled back and prepared to strike out again. The two shifters he’d hit were each howling and grabbing at their wounds—he hadn’t pulled his punches as much as he’d thought to. Or else the idiots had lunged, he didn’t know which, it all happened so fast.

Oscar danced back until he was against the wall and glared at the other two. He held up his paws and did his best movie hero imitation, waggling two of his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture, which wasn’t easy considering his hands weren’t humanoid. “Come on,” he snarled, just in case his intent wasn’t clear.

“Pussy,” the less muscular of the shifters spat. “You aren’t worth this much effort to fuck!”

“I wouldn’t let you fuck me with someone else’s dick,” Oscar snarled back. He was going to point out the vast difference between fucking and what the four morons had intended to do to him, but a low rumbling growl from somewhere behind his unwanted admirers, a sound he felt more than heard, had Oscar snapping his mouth shut and some of the other shifters whimpering.

“Is there a problem?”

Oscar went weak-kneed—with relief, he told himself—as a burly guy wearing an L’Annex polo shirt stretched tight over his muscular chest. His blond hair was cut in a short military clip and he had one of those broad jaws that made a man look tough and stern, or at least Oscar had always thought so. As far as bouncers went, this guy had to be the epitome of what one should look like. Add to his chiselled looks a pair of pale icy coloured eyes and the fantasy man from Oscar’s wet-dreams had just become reality.

The orange-haired shifter pointed at Oscar. “He started it!”

Oscar’s mouth dropped open and he sputtered. “Did not! He—” Oscar belatedly realised he hadn’t shifted his hands back when he pointed at his accuser. “Oh fuck.” Oscar started shifting his paws back into hands. Maybe the bouncer would think he’d been wearing gloves or something?

Except the bouncer growled again, a real deep, animalistic growl, and Oscar felt the first true tendrils of fear. It wasn’t even a remotely human sound, and as he forced himself to look at the bouncer—Josiah, according to the tag above his right breast—Oscar thought he just might be in more trouble now than he’d been a few minutes ago.

“Go!”

Oscar hoped Josiah meant him, too. The other shifters started to skitter off, muttering, and Oscar tried to scoot along the wall but two things stopped him. The first was hearing the orange haired shifter say, “Yes, alpha,” and the second was Josiah’s hand on his chest, pinning him in place.

Then Oscar smelt it, the burnt wood and grassy scent mixed with a musky odour he couldn’t place. It emanated from Josiah and coated Oscar like an invisible cloak—and it freaked him out like nothing had in ages.

“Let me go,” Oscar snapped, grabbing Josiah’s wrist with both his hands. His heart was slamming so hard against his ribs, he was afraid it might just shoot out if Josiah
did
let up on him. But Josiah didn’t, and Oscar’s temper boiled over, drowning his common sense.

“I have fucking had it with big, muscular, stupid assholes tonight!” He dug his nails into Josiah’s arm and kicked out with one foot.

It had zero effect on Josiah and Oscar became almost frantic in his attempt to escape. No, he wasn’t being hurt, but Oscar had been bullied all throughout his school years, and everything that’d happened since he walked into the gay bar had stirred up the memories of those hellish years. He had nightmares even now, over three months after he’d graduated, nightmares in which he was still back in high school.

Tonight was going to provide him with a whole slew of new nightmare material. All he’d wanted to do was maybe dance with a guy, see what it felt like to have a man’s arms around him, feel another man’s cock rubbing against him while they moved to a slow song.

Maybe, if he’d been feeling exceptionally brave, there’d have been some kissing too. Oscar hadn’t done any of those things before, and doubted he’d have another chance at them for a while. It wasn’t like Holton, the town closest to where he lived, was a hotbed of gay delights.

Now all he was going to get out of tonight was to become even more fucked up. Oscar opened his mouth, ready to scream, because surely someone had to be aware of him being mauled! It didn’t occur to his panicked mind that he was the one doing the attacking, not until Josiah grunted and stumbled forward.

Oscar had caught him hard on the inside of his thigh, and now he figured he was going to die because of it. Josiah lurched unsteadily and Oscar, already against the wall, tried to push Josiah back but it was no use. Oscar’s breath gushed from his lungs as Josiah crashed against him. “Fuuuuck,” Oscar croaked, afraid a couple of his ribs had cracked.

His arms were pinned between them and Josiah had to weigh at least two hundred pounds, and he was a good foot taller than Oscar. Oscar’d had enough sense to turn his head but his face was still getting smashed between Josiah’s chest and the wall. As a matter of fact,
all
of Oscar was getting squished!

“Get off,” he whimpered, because he couldn’t quite manage not to. Josiah made a rumbling noise Oscar felt clear to his toes. Oddly enough, it also seemed to flip a few erotic switches along the way, which unsettled Oscar almost as badly as he had been moments before when he’d gone ape shit on Josiah.

But really? Getting a semi-stiffy now, of all times?
What the hell was wrong with him?

“Stop.”

Oscar hadn’t realised he’d started clawing at Josiah again until his sharply barked order had Oscar going stone-still. Oscar wriggled, though, because he really wanted to be able to freaking inhale sometime soon!

Josiah hissed and the next thing Oscar knew he was given a little room, very little, and he was being lifted right off his feet as Josiah brought them eye to eye. “This is what I get for rescuing you?”

“Rescuing me?” Oscar spluttered, thinking he should have tried harder to do some damage to Josiah,
the arrogant prick!
“I had it under control!”

Josiah’s expression didn’t change, yet he somehow managed to look even more intimidating. It was a good thing Oscar had been bully-proofed.
Trial by fire and all the not-fun stuff I went through in school.
“Put me down you big—”

Oscar definitely wasn’t expecting what happened next. Josiah moved in closer, moved his
face
closer. Oscar winced, expecting the head-butt from hell. He just knew his brains were going to be squashed right out his ears. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the oncoming collision—only to jerk them back open when a hot, wet mouth slanted over his.

Pre-order your copy here

About the Author

A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are resounds for pounding away at the keyboard, as are the early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain, demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.