Sure, Tenebrae Cove offered them the perfect location to straddle the human/not-so-human line, but sometimes they needed more.
Like now, when Ciaran didn’t want to face any of his consortium—or the man who was the sole cause of all his troubles.
The very human Detective Sergeant Douglas Sawyer.
“Pretty sure I can stay here forever,” Ciaran replied petulantly. “Well, the next five years, at least.”
Fray made a face. They were on the jetty, their human feet dangling into the water. “Aren’t you a bit curious?”
“Curious? About what?”
Fray rolled his eyes. “About everything. He’s your mate. It’s not as if our kind and humans?—”
“That’s right. He’s human,” Ciaran said. “And he’s a cop.”
Fray shrugged one shoulder. “He’s kinda hot, though. For a biped.”
Ciaran shot him a glare and made a low growl from somewhere deep in his belly. It surprised him how instinctual it was and how deeply he’d meant it.
Fray wasn’t fazed, though. He never was. He put both his hands up and laughed. “Just kidding.”
“It’s not funny.”
It wasn’t funny when Kellan had explained it the other night. It wasn’t funny when Ciaran knew in his blood that what the doctor had found in his textbooks was true; their kind had been known to take a mate, though it was not common, but theynevertook a human mate. It wasn’t funny when every single one of them had stared at him. It wasn’t funny when Otis busted up laughing, or when Ciaran threatened to rip one of Otis’s arms off. It wasn’t funny then, and it wasn’t funny now.
“Ahh, come on,” Fray said, still grinning. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ciaran stared at him. “What’s the worst—are you serious? He would know about us. About our world. He’s a cop, for fuck’ssake. He’s human, Fray. Hu. Man. They’re irrational, impulsive, and self-serving.”
“Like you’re being right now. You’re a perfect match.”
Ciaran snarled at him, but there was no heat in it. “Fuck you.”
“No, thanks. You’re not my type.” He leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes to enjoy the gust of cold wind that blew up the river. “But you could fuck him,” he said casually. “Get some action while you can. It’s not like you’ve had any in, uh, how long has it been?”
Ciaran wanted to smack him with all eight arms. “Speaking of your type and getting action, how’re things with Tobin going?”
Fray cracked one eye open, his smile now gone. “Speaking of fuck you.”
Ciaran smiled with satisfaction and put both his hands up like Fray had done earlier. “Just kidding.”
Fray groaned. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Ciaran chewed on the inside of his lip for a minute. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe if you actually told him...”
“Says the guy who’d rather hide away for two days than face his little matey.”
“Little matey?”
He shrugged. “What else am I supposed to call him?”
“Not that.”
“Sawyer. Douglas Sawyer. Detective Sergeant Douglas Sawyer.”
“Are you done?”
“Nope. Got five years to go.”
