Huntsman - Morgan Brice Page 0,48

that instant of shared consciousness, of being Russ-and-Liam without barriers, truly one in body, mind, and soul.

Liam seemed content to lie bonelessly in Russ’s embrace, even as Russ’s cock slipped out, followed by a trickle of come. Russ wished they could stay like that forever, wrapped up completely in each other. But he realized Liam’s skin had begun to prickle with goosebumps, and he knew that if they didn’t clean up, they would regret it come morning.

“What…where?” Liam managed as Russ pushed to his feet, carrying Liam in his arms.

“I’m taking you to bed,” Russ replied, voice low and gravelly. “Gonna clean us up, so we’re not a mess in the morning. And I’m going to hold you all night long.”

Liam made a sexy murmur of assent. “I like that. A lot.”

Russ set him down gently on the bed, then went into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth to wipe up both of them, then tossed the cloth in the clothes bin. He’d clean off the back of the couch tomorrow where Liam’s come had spattered against it. Liam watched him with a sleepy gaze, eyes wide and vulnerable, walls down. Russ wondered what Liam saw in his own eyes, and if he was equally open.

He didn’t know how to ask whether Liam had felt that zing of extra connection, afraid to discover it might have been all in his imagination.

“That was…different,” Liam murmured, sounding sleep-slurred as he shifted to lay his head on Russ’s shoulder. “For a minute there, I was kinda you but still me. Both. Maybe?” His gaze searched Russ’s eyes, seeking validation.

Russ swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Me too. I think it’s part of the fated mates thing. Probably where the whole ‘soulmates’ thing comes from.” His heart leaped, thinking that might be true.

“That’s good,” Liam replied, so quietly Russ could barely hear him. He pressed a kiss to Liam’s temple.

“Very, very good, my sexy fox.”

“Big bad wolfie.” Liam’s voice drifted off before Russ could object to the nickname.

Wolfie, huh. I kinda like that.

Russ’s wolf gave a huff. Certainly not.

Oh, lighten up. He just fucked my brains out. If he wants to call me Wolfie, I’m not going to complain about it.

Perhaps it will be tolerable, his wolf allowed. Since he is our mate.

Fated mate.

Assuredly so.

Russ fell asleep with Liam tucked close to his side. Liam’s head was on Russ’s shoulder. Their scents mingled with the smell of sex and sweat, and Russ wondered how long he would need to hold off on finishing their bond.

We’ve barely known each other for a week. That’s a little soon for “move in with me” and “let me seal this with a bite.”

His wolf gave a disdainful sniff. Too quick for humans. Not for shifters. We are fated mates. What more is there to discuss?

Russ lay awake, listening to Liam breathe. He hadn’t been with anyone since Anthony died, and he had become numb to sleeping alone. For the first year after he’d been widowed, Russ had taken comfort in the bed that used to be theirs, imagining that he could still pick up traces of Anthony’s scent, as if the mattress held more than memories. Last year, in an optimistic declaration that he was going to “move on,” Russ had bought a new mattress and all-new bedding.

Nothing had changed.

Now, he felt glad that this bed was unburdened by memories, and that it could be their bed, his and Liam’s. As hard as it had been to finally give away or box up Anthony’s belongings, except for a few cherished items, Russ realized that doing so had freed up space in his home, life, and heart to love again.

He waited to feel guilty like he was a bad husband and a faithless lover. Instead, a sense of peace mantled around him.

That night, he dreamed of walking on a beach with Anthony, hand in hand, something they had never actually done but talked about doing in a someday vacation. For a while, they walked in silence, broken only by the rushing waves and the gulls overhead. They turned to watch the ocean as the water lapped against their bare feet.

“You’ll be okay,” dream-Anthony said quietly, looking out across the water.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again without you,” dream-Russ replied.

Anthony turned and smiled at him, that amazing grin that had made Russ fall head-over-heels. “Then remember me, remember us…but don’t let it hold you back from living. I’d stay if I could. But I can’t. So when