Brody nodded. He walked to the door without saying another word. But before he left, he paused with his hand on the doorframe.
“Your father and your brother won’t find you here. I give you my word.”
“Your word is worth as much as your last name, Kovac.”
The blow landed where Ren wanted it to. He watched Brody take it, his back tensing beneath the black fabric, his knuckles white against the wood of the doorframe. But he didn’t respond. He walked out and closed the door with a soft click that sounded louder than a slam.
The echo of raisins and walnuts faded into the air, leaving Ren alone with twenty-three ghosts he didn’t know but somehow understood better than anyone.
Chapter 16
Brody’s hand enveloped his with a firmness that didn’t squeeze, that didn’t demand, that was simply there, and Ren felt a tingling sensation crawl up his forearm like tiny electric shocks that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed. He didn’t know what to do with his fingers—whether to interlace them more or leave them loose, whether to squeeze, whether to acknowledge what that touch was doing to him or pretend his pulse hadn’t quickened until it was pounding in his temples.
Brody closed the door behind them and let go of his hand to go to the closet. The room was just as Ren remembered it from the last time, though now he saw it with fresh eyes. And the scent of raisins and nuts permeated everything, overwhelming his senses until his teeth ached.
Brody pulled a black t-shirt out of the drawer and handed it to him.
“For sleeping.”
Ren took it. The fabric was soft from wear, frayed at the edges of the collar. He brought it to his face without thinking, an automatic gesture his body executed before his brain could veto it, and the concentrated scent of Brody hit him with such intensity that the heat traveled from his chest to his stomach and further down. He clenched his thighs. His lips went dry.
“Bathroom?”
Brody pointed to the door to the left of the closet.
Ren went in, closed the door, leaned against it, and breathed through his mouth for a few seconds until the world stopped pulsing around him. He took off the t-shirt he was wearing, his pants, his underwear. He put on Brody’s t-shirt, which fell to his thighs like a short dress, the cotton brushing against his skin with an intimacy that shouldn’t have sent a shiver down his spine, but did. He looked at himself in the mirror. The blue eyes returned an expression he didn’t recognize: something open, something vulnerable, something that looked dangerously like anticipation.
He went out.
Brody was already in bed. He’d taken off everything but his black boxers and had one arm bent under his head. His straight, dark hair against the pillow. His gray eyes, rimmed with red, followed his every move as Ren circled the bed to the opposite side and slipped under the covers.
The bed was huge, and yet Ren felt there wasn’t enough room. He lay on his back, stiff as a board, with his arms pressed against his body and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Every muscle in his back was tense. His shoulders brushed against the pillowcase and felt too tense, too high, too aware of the mass of heat occupying the other side of the mattress.
A few seconds passed. Maybe a minute. The silence was heavy.
Then Brody’s hand slid under the covers. It wasn’t a quick or stealthy movement: Ren felt him approach, the alpha’s knuckles brushing the sheet, searching. Brody’s fingers found his and closed around them. Ren let a little air escape between his lips. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.
“What made you change your mind?”
Brody’s voice was low, hoarse from the sleep that hadn’t yet come. He wasn’t looking at him. They both stared at the ceiling as if the answers were written up there.
Ren turned his head on the pillow. Brody’s profile was a sharp line cut against the darkness: the square jaw, the straight nose, the mouth that had told him cruel things and honest things in equal measure.
“You were right.”
Brody turned his head toward him.
“My life isn’t what it used to be,” Ren’s fingers tightened around Brody’s. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. It can’t get any worse, so it should only get better, always. I’ve decided to give this thing that’s happening to us a chance.”
Brody didn’t respond right away. His gray eyes slowly traced Ren’s face, as if memorizing every feature in the dim light seeping through the edge of the curtains. Ren watched the alpha’s throat move as he swallowed.
“Can I kiss you?”
Ren licked his lips.
“Yes.”
Brody rolled onto his side, and his free hand found Ren’s cheek. His palm was rough, warm, enormous against his cheekbone. He kissed him slowly. Brody’s lips were soft and dry, pressing against Ren’s with a restraint that vibrated at the edges like something about to break. Ren opened his mouth and Brody’s taste flooded his tongue, and heat exploded behind his ribs.
