Donnchadh - Lynn Hagen Page 0,18

the driver’s door, offering his hand.

Getty took it and got out.

“Ready?”

“Are we taking my car since your vehicle situation is complicated?” Getty wondered if Donnchadh was broke. Why wouldn’t he own a car? God, he hoped the guy wasn’t a deadbeat. Getty had enough of them in his life already.

Donnchadh winked at him. “I have a much better mode of transportation.” He went to the backseat and grabbed Getty’s bags, slinging them over his shoulder.

That wasn’t ambiguous at all.

“Follow me.” Donnchadh led them inside Bistro. Getty figured the guy wanted to get a drink before they headed out, but he led them toward the men’s room.

“We’re staying in the bathroom?” Getty was teasing, but he was also worried. He knew nothing about Donnchadh, other than he was nice, not human, and could fuck like a dream.

“Have a little faith in me.” Donnchadh walked into the men’s room.

Getty had very little faith in anyone. He thought his mother remarrying was a great thing, having someone who didn’t treat her like crap. But she’d moved to Paris and pretty much forgotten she had children. Pete hated their father so much that he didn’t care if Getty’s life was dismal. His father? He didn’t even want to go there.

Faith was something he lacked, but followed Donnchadh. The guy stood by the door when Getty walked in.

“Take my hand, shorty.” Donnchadh held his hand out, and Getty took it. “Just remember that I’m right here with you, okay?”

Getty was clueless and starting to worry about Donnchadh’s mental health.

Then Donnchadh turned the light off and pulled Getty forward. What the fuck? He felt as if he were falling. Getty screamed and gripped Donnchadh’s muscled arm, clinging to him for dear life. He also felt as if he’d throw up. Getty became dizzy seconds before the bathroom became lighter.

He would’ve hit the floor if Donnchadh hadn’t grabbed onto him. Getty sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Frozen, he looked around. This wasn’t the bathroom at Bistro. They were in a city, it was nighttime, and there were plenty of people walking around. How in the hell had he gotten there? How was this even possible?

“Welcome to the demon realm,” Donnchadh said. “This is where I live.”

Demon realm.

Getty’s heart thundered as he clung to Donnchadh. “How is this possible?”

Donnchadh cupped Getty’s face and kissed him. When he pulled away, he frowned. “Trust me. Your father won’t see what we’re doing. Now kiss me back. I’ve been dying to do this since you dipped out on me at the motel.”

Getty started to pull back. He was dazed, confused, and frightened. But Donnchadh’s lips were soft, warm, and Getty was helpless when Donnchadh curled his arms around him and kissed Getty like he mattered.

This was also a bit disconcerting since Getty had never showed public displays of affection. Being with Donnchadh was scary and exciting, and Getty’s heart refused to slow down.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Donnchadh murmured against Getty’s lips. “So fucking sweet.”

This time when he pulled away, he took Getty’s hand and led him to an apartment building. There wasn’t a front door. How the hell were they supposed to get inside?

Donnchadh led them to a dark alley on the side of the building. Getty was afraid to go. Dark alleys always made him think of criminals lurking in the shadows, ready to attack.

But that wasn’t what happened. They walked forward, and Getty found himself in an apartment.

“Just so you know, I’m freaking out.” Getty stood in the middle of the lavish living room. Fuck. This place was amazing. Modern, sleek, and right in front of Getty were windows that spanned the length of the wall, floor-to-ceiling, and had brown gossamer curtains.

To his left was a cream tiled wall, a low black shelf that ran the length at the bottom, and a large flat-screen anchored dead center. In the middle of the living room was a white sectional with black-and-white fluffy throw pillows, a plush black carpet in the center, and a marble coffee table.

Donnchadh lead him to the windows. They didn’t have to pull the curtains aside. Getty saw right through them. The one thing he noticed right away was the lack of traffic on the street.

Where were the cars?

Donnchadh moved in behind Getty, chest to back, and placed his hands on Getty’s hips. “This is Serenity City. It’s always dark here, and, in my opinion, has the best wings you can find.”

“Wings?” Getty turned his head and looked at Donnchadh. “As in wings