Fuck, they tasted good together. They tastedright,but?—
His thighs suddenly spasmed, making him double over the desk as Merry and Sam tumbled into the waste-paper bin. It was enough to snap him out of his bite-induced stupor as he fished the figures out of the bin and placed them back on Taylor’s desk.
After taking a cold shower, Johnny went downstairs in a pair of shorts and nothing on top. It was hot as hell for the time of year, and he cursed British houses for not having built-in air conditioning.
The sun was already up, spilling its orange light over Johnny’s face and chest as he stepped onto the patio. He hoped Manders had had the good sense to go home that night, and that he hadn’t been stupid enough to wander into pack territory looking for more trouble.
Bacon sizzled in the pan as Johnny buttered four slices of bread—right up to the edges, because anyone who didn’t should be shot—and sipped from a mug of hibiscus tea. A blend that his dad had come up with.
Johnny chewed the silver cross that hung around his neck, letting the metallic taste seep into his tongue. Maman would have killed him, said it turned the silver black, but Taylor was gone and the house was empty, so he let the old habit comfort him.
Johnny knew he was a shit Christian. In fact, Papa reminded him of it at least once a week. He’d tap his cap, point up at the sky and say ‘The Lord wants full custody, Son. Not just weekend visits’ because Johnny hadn’t been to church outside of Christmas and Easter in years.
Even so, he sat at the kitchen table every morning when the sun was just hitting the horizon and Taylor was still snoozing and he just… listened. Listened to the pipes in the walls, the pops and cracks of the old floorboards and the birds waking up. It was his own kind of prayer. A moment to just be with himself and God.
Johnny liked Bell Lane. It was quiet, and kind of cut off from the rest of the town. Pember and Blake kept mostly to themselves, but every now and again he’d find a bottle of Pember’s home brew propped on the fence post. The guy’s entire patio wascoveredwith metal vats and pipes, and had he not been a forensic scientist, Johnny would have probably submitted an intelligence report about it.
Drawing in a deep breath, he gazed out across the woods. He could imagine staying at the house with Taylor long term, because despite the other alpha’s chaotic nature he could tell that the place was good for him too. He didn’t wake up in a bad mood like he used to, or argue with anyone over the fence, or scent mark all the trees just to prove a point.
Johnny chuckled to himself and inhaled the steam from his drink. Taylor was a handful—twohandfuls—but Johnny couldn’t deny that he loved it. When he’d gotten all needy on the morning of their first day, scenting him…Fuck.He’d loved that even more.
Christ, he was so utterly fucked.
“Are you running with me this morning?”
Johnny jumped at the sound of Blake’s voice from the other side of the fence. He was holding his own mug with a pair of glasses pushed back through his hair.
Johnny yawned, trying to cover his surprise. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
Blake cocked an eyebrow. “I can see that.”
Johnny took another long swig of tea. “Not today. I… You might want to avoid the usual tracks. Taylor might be out there.”
Blake nodded, his stern face showing a flicker of interest. “Is he unwell?”
Johnny shook his head. “Nah, just in a mood.”
“Is your transfer going that badly?”
“Not really, just… It’s Dingly Heath, isn’t it?”
Blake smirked. “Indeed.”
Johnny toed the fence. “You can stop smiling now. I know you’re happy about it. Pem told Tay about the cake.”
Blake’s smile widened, and Johnny didn’t think he’d ever seen so much of his straight white teeth.
“It was fucking good cake.”
“You could at least have the decency to lie about it. Someone with good manners might try and hide their hatred a little better.”
Blake cleared his throat and cracked his neck. “I do not hate either of you. I wouldn’t run with you if that was the case. Taylor, I tolerate, because whereveryouare, thereheis. Like a fly attached to a hippo’s arse.”
Johnny frowned, looking back up at the woods. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your run, wherever you end up going.”
Miraculously, the bacon was not burnt, but Johnny found that he still didn’t have an appetite, so he foil-wrapped a sandwich for himself and one for… Taylor.
Why was he bothering again?
