“No. You’re not.”
“Yes. I am.”
Taylor let out a long breath and began walking away.
“Tay,” Johnny called, darting into the street after him. He was about to drag him back when Maman and the rest of the pack stepped out of the restaurant and onto the street. They both stopped abruptly when Papa appeared with Marty in his arms, head lolling against his shoulder. Johnny yanked the collar of his shirt up in an attempt to hide the bite mark.
Maman locked the doors and pulled down the shutter. She gasped, eyes trailing over their ripped clothes. “Mon Dieu!” shegasped. “Please tell me you did that to each other and not Aden Manders.”
Taylor looked as though he was about to turn away, but Johnny clapped a hand across his back and pushed him forward.
“Just… er, letting off some steam after a long day,” Johnny replied, glancing at Clementine and Gabriella as they planted their feet and crossed their arms.
“Hope you kicked his butt,” said Clementine.
Gabriella nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be disappointed if he still has teeth when I next see him.”
“Girls!” Maman hissed, running her hand over Marty’s cheeks and covering his ears. “Do not say such things. I taught you to have kindness in your hearts.”
Clementine shrugged, “You also taught me not to lie, Mama.”
The two of them bickered back and forth, but all Johnny could do was watch as the shutters came down on Taylor’s emotions. “Let’s go,” he whispered, tugging at the back of Taylor’s shirt.
“I’m not going home,” Taylor replied in a quiet voice. “I’ll go somewhere?—”
“The fuck you will,” Johnny growled, grabbing his wrist. “You’re coming home with me. You’re going to take a shower and then we’re going to watchTropic Thunderfive times in a row.”
Taylor laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think… I think I’m gonna spend the night in the woods. My wolf is all over the fucking shop and it’s messing with my head.”
“I’ll come with?—”
“No,” Taylor said, holding up a hand. “No, JP. I’m going on my own. I’ll be back before the sun’s up.”
CHAPTER 8
MISSING IN ACTION
Johnny
Taylor didn’t come homethat night, or the following night. Or the night after that. Johnny had texted him multiple times, only to be met with a thumbs up or a smiley face. He didn’t come back for clothes, the car, water or even food, and during the second night, when Johnny went up into the woods to look for him, he barely found any trace of his scent.
They crossed paths at work, but Taylor was up and out of the nick before Johnny could even say hello. He’d try to corner Amil to find out what the fuck was happening, but he’d just shrugged and said he didn’t give a shit what was going on in Taylor’s head.
When it became painfully obvious that Taylor was not only avoiding him, but actively trying to stay out of his personal space, Johnny had come to the conclusion that he had probably spent multiple nights with someone else. Or, more likely, multiple someone elses, trying to forget the scent of Johnny’s arousal.
Well, wasn’t that just fucking humiliating?
Once Johnny had gottenthatsorted out in his head, the next time they crossed one another in the office he made sure to anglehimself away from Taylor like a grenade with the pin half-pulled. It felt like a fucking breakup, and he wasn’t sure he could take much more.
It was morning again, and Johnny had paced around into the early hours until he finally resorted to just standing in Taylor’s bedroom. He ran a hand over the pillow, sighing at how cold it felt. He thought about lying in his bed, wrapping himself up in Taylor’s sheets and staying there forever. Instead he stood in the darkened room and clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.
He wanted to go after him again.Fuck, he wanted to harass the shit out of him, bombard him with calls and messages, contact every single person he thought Taylor might go to.
Johnny took a deep breath. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t crazy and he had to remember that his idiotic feelings were completely one sided.
Rubbing the side of his neck, he let his fingers trail over the indented bite mark. It was lopsided, like Taylor’s fangs, and he’d bitten deep that time, almost like he meant it. Pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Johnny reached up and wiggled his fingertip into the deepest part of the bite. It still ached days later, and the more he touched it the more blood rushed to his cock.
“Shit,” he muttered, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking them.
