“You don’t regret it ever, do you?” I asked him.
A dozen emotions flitted over his face before he frowned. “Should I?”
Oh gods, no.“I hope not! I love having you with us. I just meant…it must have been quite a letdown, squeezing into such a small area after where you were before, and rarely having time to yourself. I’ve seen pictures of your old place.” I’d asked Baxter to get some photos taken of his old cottage and the surrounding lands before his shit of an ex-landlord had bulldozed the lot. I’d no idea if Trace was sentimental about the place, but the pictures were stored on a hard drive in case the right moment presented itself. Was that sappy of me? Probably, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Trace quirked a brow at my statement but let it pass. I guess he knew well enough the array of equipment the Council had available. He twisted a cardboard drinks mat between his long fingers.
“It’s been an adjustment,” he admitted. “And a steep learning curve. I’m sociable, but I’ve never lived with anyone. Or, not fora very long time. But I don’t regret a second of it.” He raised his face and smiled, the one that crinkled his eyes and highlighted his broken nose. “I consider myself a very lucky man.”
“We’re the lucky ones.” James, in an unexpected PDA, rested his hand briefly over Trace’s where it lay on the table, before getting to his feet. “Gotta take a leak.”
We watched him thread his way through the throng, the set of his shoulders tense.
“Stop it,” Trace cautioned me, in turn placing his hand over mine.
“Stop what?”
“Donotfollow him. He will lose his shit if he thinks we’re bubble-wrapping him. He grew up in care and lived in a shithole doing a variety of dodgy jobs before he met you. He’s tougher than he looks.”
I sighed. “Busted. I just want to glue myself to him to ensure his safety at all times.”
Trace smirked. “I know. I get the same urges, but he’s never going to trust us if we coddle him.”
I leaned closer than was necessary across the table. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
His pupils flared. “Oh yeah?”
“So damn much. But I don’t trust some of the meatheads in here.” The rowdy bunch were now lobbing darts in the general direction of an ancient dart board, but a couple of them had set themselves on the edge of the crowd and kept shooting what they probably thought were furtive glances around the pub.
Trace scanned the room. “Hmm. Drug dealing?”
“Could be.” I shrugged. “Is it bad I don’t care as long as they don’t bother us? Am I too divorced from my humanity to give a shit about what humans get up to?” My conscience occasionally prodded me, as if to say I should care. Like James had pointedout, I didn’t need my only food source irrevocably fucking itself over, leaving me starving.
Trace echoed my shrug. “Tonight is not the time for a battle of any kind. Let’s just drink, chat, an?—”
“The fuck is that?” I spoke over him. “Shit, that’s James’ heartbeat. It’s going like the clappers.” I shot to my feet, only Trace’s iron grip on my wrist preventing me from slicing through the crowd like an avenging angel.
“Whoa, calm the hell down,” he hissed, standing and blocking my view across the room. “Your fangs just dropped. Sort yourself out and take a damn breath. Take ten.I’llgo.” His glare was so fierce I almost took a step back. I retracted my fangs — Christ, Dalziel would have my bollocks if he heard about this — and faked a few hasty inhales and exhales.
“Okay, I’m good.”
Trace’s sceptical look would have withered an entire hospital of old-school matrons. “Sure you are,” he drawled. “Do not fucking move unless I call for you. You’ll hear me if I do. Stay. There.” He jabbed a finger into my chest for emphasis and strode off in the direction of the bogs.
38
TRACE
I could see James,cornered by three blokes on the opposite side of the pub. As I approached, I picked up a few words: the F word, ‘nancy boy’, ‘gaylord’. Ohgreat, drunken homophobia was my favourite kind. All beer spittle and threats without a hope of reasoning with them.
“I can’t hear you fuckers. I’m Deaf.” Poor James. Standing his ground with a murderous scowl, he was at such a disadvantage. If you could at least hear what your assailants were saying, you had a better chance of fighting back with words and possibly getting them to back down. Although that option didn’t look likely right now.
One of the louts raised his voice. “I said, you’re one of those filthy cocksuckers, aren’t you? We saw you, touching up the ugly one. He’s twice your age at least. Bloody pervert. Does he pay you to suck him, you ret?—”
“Don’t youdarefinish that word, you ignorant creep.” I came up behind them, as close as I could without actually laying a hand on any of them. I slipped around the side to stand next to James, shooting him a quick supportive glance. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen? From the array of disappointing words you’re slinging about, I assume at least one of you isthirsting heavily for my boyfriend. Is that correct? You’re sad because he’s mine, not yours, right?”
The one I’d cut off mid slur gaped at me with his mouth hanging open. Oh lovely, even better, a view of half-chewed pork scratchings to go with the abuse. It felt like a minute before he replied but was probably seconds. His expression morphed from disbelief to disgust.
“You…you…” Words failed him. I took advantage of the lull in expletives to say into James’ ear, “Sorry, I couldn’t let you do this alone.”
