By the time Gale finished his burger, Jude was picking at his wrap with disinterest. A reaction to another shared moment he resented? Or his teasing about his wrap? It was hard to tell from this distance.
Dusting his hands, he took the rubbish to the bin by the door and detoured to join Jude on his bed. Gale draped an arm around his neck and stole a strip of meat from his wrap. “Tastes good.”
Jude took a deep breath, relaxing against him.
“When did you know?” he asked, trailing fingers over Jude’s bare shoulder. “That you’d mate a guy.”
Pausing, Jude swallowed and shrugged. “I was thirteen,” he replied, a hint of confusion suggesting he didn’t understand why Gale was asking. “Is it a problem?” He couldn’t meet Gale’s gaze and immediately took an oversized bite.
Gale cocked his head, wondering what to make of the question. Did it mean Jude didn’t trust him or believe the mate bond? “Why should it be?” He couldn’t figure out why Jude kept taking one step forward and ten back. Every time he made progress, he was shunned, fought or glared at. Always the criminal, always the one in the wrong. He was sick of making the first move but was afraid Jude never would. He’d walked away, scared to take the risk.
Nuzzling at Jude’s ear, he tempered his anger to speak calmly. “You’re starting to smell like me, like my come is on your skin,” he pointed out. Their scents were mixing, acceptance and the mate bond in the air. “I know how you taste. Would I know if I had a problem with you being gay?”
Gale was dying for more, to explore the parts of Jude still untouched, and the parts already known. But that was for his mate, and if Jude rejected him it would be harder to move on and take a chosen mate.
How could he think Gale had an aversion to Jude being gay? How could he believe it mattered? If it did, why was he in Jude’s bed? Why did he instigate contact, push Jude to his limits, if he was disgusted with theideaof him being gay?
He didn’t have the words to say how fucked up it was and wanted to be mad, but it wasn’t Jude’s fault. Vihaan and the toxic shit they’d been spinning for generations was responsible.
Delaware had gone on about toxic masculinity last week, but Dnara had nothing on home. Vihaan wasn’t toxic; it was lethal.
If Jude couldn’t find his way, Gale would have to take his hand and lead him, step by step.
Jude didn’t reply, nibbling at his wrap. Gale should never have asked the question, but it was important to know, and he’d never been a quitter. He’d never had to fight for something so hard. So he stayed. He drew lazy, invisible patterns on Jude’s skin, basked in his scent, and let him return to his book in undisturbed silence.
*
In the silence, Jude read and absently held Gale’s arm around his neck, mouth pressed to his skin.
Gale went through everything, to find another point of view, another way to figure out where it went wrong and how to make it right.
In the end, all he could think about was Yosi, wondering if it was this hard for his little brother to find happiness. To find those moments where the rest of the world disappeared and all that mattered was having Callum by his side.
The world was against them, but was it enough to have each other? Best friends to rely on during the good and bad times, to find solace, to seek comfort, to bask in, to grow the bond.
Could it be enough?
Gale didn’t notice his fingers trailing over Jude’s skin. Didn’t think about how Jude mirrored his movements or how it took Jude an eternity to turn a page. He didn’t realise how comfortable they’d become in the privacy, that Jude hadn’t pushed him away.
He thought about Yosi; the future, the past, and how they got here.
Yosi was a sweet kid, best friends with Callum from five years old. He’d known he didn’t want to live without Callum since he was ten, known he was his true mate by sixteen. Six months later, Callum confessed to feeling the bond, on his sixteenth birthday. That was how strong the bond was. They felt it the second they came of age and could act on the bond.
With Keon in charge, Yosi could have what he wanted. They could be happy, mated and claimed. Together.
There was one problem with their perfect dream?their parents.
Gale remembered like it was last week. Spending a day with his friends, running as m’weko, and how Yosi hadn’t been allowed because he was too young. At ten, he’d struggled with his shift, playful enough to cause mischief on Gale’s first real hunt. With six years between them, it was an impossible chasm to cross in their parents’ minds. They never cared that GalewantedYosi on his first hunt.
Coming home with three rosson caught in his mouth, a gift for his parents after his successful hunt, he’d been so excited he didn’t notice. Then the scent of blood slammed through his senses…
Chapter Seven
Seven Years Ago
Gale dropped his prize, bared his teeth, and stalked through the house, finding bloody handprints on the kitchen wall, trailing through to the living room and into the hallway. A broken kitchen chair, a food bowl tipped over in the living room, and the sound of sobbing. Fear and piss stung his sensitive nose as he hunted the monster attacking his home.
His world shattered when he tracked the blood to Yosi’s bedroom. His brother lay curled on the floor, sobbing as their father beat him with the broken leg from the kitchen chair.
