Zipper grabbed the treat and scurried off.
Lee laughed. “Not a soft touch. Hah. You always were.” He sobered, his voice softer. “You always were a kind man.”
I’d done a lot of things in my life that were far from kind, but I didn’t want to be that man to Lee. I ate the last bite and pushed my empty plate aside. “Can we talk?”
“I guess so.” He led the way to the living area and pointed at his couch. “Sit.” As I obeyed, he took up a stance across from me, arms behind him in parade rest, chin raised. He looked like he expected me to hit him and was determined not to hit back.
My heart ached. “Don’t you want to sit down?”
“No. Go on.”
My turn to tell the truth.Sweat slipped down my back, itchy between my shoulder blades, damp beneath my arms. I wondered if Lee could smell it. If he could see the quiver of fear inside me I was fighting to hide. I gathered my courage in both hands. “After you ran off a couple of hours ago, I had… not a memory, but a… a recollection of that night. I believe what you said.”
“I’m not a liar!”
“No! Of course not! I didn’t mean that. Just… everyone recalls an event a bit differently. I wondered if something I thought was innocent seemed less so in your eyes, but now I know you were right. I did kiss you.”
“And?”
I ran my tongue over my dry lips. Lee’s gaze dropped to my mouth, then fastened back on my eyes. I swallowed. “And I’m not disgusted or running away from that idea, or whatever you think of me.”
“All right.” He didn’t change his tense posture.
“I served with a couple of queer men. Or do you say homophile?” I tried to recall the other terms I’d heard, but most were meant to humiliate, not identify.
Lee shrugged. “I’ve heard the word homophile maybe twice. Homosexual’s awfully clinical. Heard someone on the radio use ‘gay’ recently. Never felt all that gay to me. I stick with bent, or queer. The packs want to call me that? I’ll own it.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat. This felt like slogging through hip-deep mud while under fire, something I had way too much experience with. “I know in the packs, queer is supposed to be this terrible thing to be violently purged.”
“Yep. Like losing your marbles,” Lee pointed out. “Remember Lester’s bondmate?”
I flinched at the memory of Dad calling for the death of a senile old woman, because there were things about the packs I would never miss. “Right. What I’m trying to say is I don’t think of you that bad way. Never have, never would. Or any other queer wolf.”
“Like yourself?”
No, don’t take this conversation there. Not now. Not yet.I scrambled for a safe answer. “I like women.”
“Some queer men do. Question is, do you like men too?”
Memories bombarded me again, sharper and clearer. Lee’s mouth. Lee’s hands. And in truth, other men’s hands too, on board a ship with no women for miles, male fingers rough and strong on my— I swallowed hard. “Is that relevant?”
“Some men like both. And it’s relevant to me.” Suddenly, Lee took two steps forward and fell to his knees in front of me. “It’sveryrelevant to me, Micah.”
I couldn’t breathe. Heat rose in me, a wave that could burn me from the inside out if I let it. I remembered that vision of a younger Lee on his knees, his eyes burning gold. Now older Leelooked up at me and his wolf hadn’t risen, and yet his moss-green gaze was even harder to resist.
“I don’t know what I like.” My words emerged on a tiny breath, barely audible to even our wolf ears.
“Do you want to?”
Staring down at him, the first twenty years of my life passed through my head, moment after moment of Lee at my side. His strong grip, hauling me up from where I’d fallen. His grin, cheering me when I’d screwed up. His shoulder under my cheek when I fell asleep on a school bus, knowing no one would mess with me when I had Lee there.His mouth, tasting of whiskey and myself.
I leaned forward, leaned down, and braced my hands on his shoulders. The bulk of his muscles flexed under my fingers. He tilted his face up but let me make all the moves.
With our mouths inches apart, I hesitated. That was Lee, familiar and yet different, lips thinner, cheekbones squarer, body far more solid under my hands. But those eyes were the same.
Do I really want this?The answer to that question came with leaning one more inch, with the dry touch of my lips on his. He knelt there, passive, waiting, and yet that simple kiss lit me up like fireworks. I deepened the kiss, getting my first taste of Lee. Second taste. Twenty-five years apart and yet so well-known that his flavor resonated through me.
I moved one hand to the back of his head and the soft slip of his hair under my palm was familiar too. I broke the kiss, pulling back enough to see him better. The gold had risen in his eyes now. I looked inside myself, wondering if my wolf would resist this offense to centuries of tradition, but all I got was a sense of contentment. Pleasure. My wolf had no problem with me kissing my best friend.
