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Trust and lust for Carson. Mathias let the thought flow through him and away, giving it a wide berth in his mind.

Gina pressed tight to his side as she willingly allowed him to steer their little conjoined unit while she kept up a prattle of questions and inquiries he or Zeke could answer with a smile or a nod. Silently counting off the members of his camp as he saw faces or forms, he demanded a sigh of relief from his body when all of his well-fed whelps and chits were accounted for. He dropped his arms as he turned to lock their most interior door, then angled away from the men and women lounging around an entertainment center where a massive TV showed a locally hosted reality show. Fingers again tangled in theirs, he led Zeke and Gina to the room he’d laid claim to, closing the door behind them as he released his hold.

Sagging to the mattress, he tugged off his boots, lining them up against the wall. Wordlessly, Gina and Zeke followed his example, then crowded in on either side of him as he lay back against the pillows.

Eyes closed, Mathias began the tale, not embellishing anything about the night just past, because it was almost too good to believe as it was. No need to make a mockery of the connection by being insincere about what it meant to him.

“I walked into the reaping and the air felt electric all along my skin. I hadn’t intended to hunt, but from that first pulse of energy, I knew there was no way I’d be coming home without tracking down whoever was bursting at the seams like that. Their need overflowed into the crowd in such an infectious way.” He bent his neck and tenderly pressed his lips to Zeke’s forehead. “Looking out over the dance floor, I saw him and knew it was him, no doubts. It was unmistakable. And my brother.” He gave Zeke a squeeze, then turned and gently kissed Gina’s cheek. “My sister, he knew me.” Virtually unheard of, to have a pure human recognize an ethereal link, but there was no denying Carson had.

“Was he beautiful?” Gina’s question trembled against his skin, as if she were afraid of breaking the spell. Mathias sped up his heart rate, knowing she’d read the answer to her question in that. “Oh,” she sighed, burrowing closer. “So beautiful.”

Before continuing his description of the encounter, Mathias gifted her with the word that most closely matched the feeling he’d had when first laying eyes on Carson, imbuing it with the wealth and weight of the connection that had sprung to life between them instantly.

“Exquisite.”

***

Carson

“Carson.”

The brusque tone grabbed his attention and he startled, then stared up at the annoyed face leaning over his cubicle wall. “Yeah, Drew?” He narrowed his eyes, guarding against a growing ache that was centered behind his forehead.

“Man, are you okay? I called you like a dozen times.” Drew was the department director and team lead on the firm’s newest advertising account. Earlier in the week, he’d asked for Carson’s help to put together their proposal, emphasizing it had to be original. Like all our clients demand. “You look like hell.”

“Late night.” His voice was scratchy, roughened with a tinge of hoarseness. “What’d you need?”

“Wanted to run an idea past you.” Drew came around the end of the wall and angled himself into Carson’s space, hip resting against the inclined work surface. “The puppy pen place—what do you think about doing a shoot with actual dogs instead of pulling from stock?”

“I think it’s a terrible idea.” Carson resisted rolling his eyes, the promise of pain enough to keep him staring straight ahead. “Dogs, man, they don’t do what you want.”

“Yeah, dogs and babies, worst subjects ever.” Drew tipped his head back and Carson stared at the elongated slope of his neck, exposed over the top of his unbuttoned collar. Corded and thick, rough with a three o’clock beginning of his five-o’clock shadow, Carson watched as Drew’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “I just don’t want to use the same tired stock shots.” He dropped his chin and stared at Carson for a moment, a remembered connection behind someone else’s gaze pulling a blaze of heat to Carson’s face. “Dude, I think you’re running a fever.” He straightened and backed away slightly. “If you’re contagious, you should go home. We don’t need the plague here, man.”

“It’s just a couple more hours.” Carson swallowed and angled his eyes down to the papers on his desk. What the hell is wrong with me? “I’ll take it easy this weekend, be back Monday with new ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Drew tapped his fingers against the surface of the cube wall, then chuckled. “Come back with ideas about new dog and puppy shots that don’t actually involve doing a photo shoot, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Carson forced out with a choked version of a chuckle, nodding. “I’ll do that.”

Drew walked away, sounds of his footfalls fading as Carson stared blindly at the quotes he’d been working on before the interruption, trying to decide if it was weirder that he’d popped a boner at work or that it was Drew who indirectly caused it.

Fingers skating across his forehead, he closed his eyes and was immediately drawn back into memories of the night before, the dark-haired man who’d stood across the room, his gaze like a caress on Carson’s skin. In his mind, he watched the man lift his chin, the soft triangle of skin underneath his jaw calling like a beacon. That was why he’d gotten an erection, the posture Drew assumed an instantaneous reminder of a single movement from that mystery man.

“Hey, Ruthie?” An answering hum over the cube wall told him his office mate was listening. “I’m going home. I don’t feel great.” Another hum accompanied his shutting down the computer and packing it away. “See you Monday.”

Chapter Two

Carson

Carson swung his legs up onto the couch, slouching farther down into the cushions as he made himself comfortable. He yawned, mouth gaping wide until his jaw cracked, the tiny flash of pain somehow translating to that section of skin on his neck that was still slightly tender. That twinge had happened repeatedly through the past few days, drawing his attention full circle back to his dream each time, his body reacting strongly with every pass. Now, it was Tuesday night, and late, which meant he shouldn’t be bingeing a show since he had to be at work bright and early tomorrow morning. With a snort at his tiny rebellion, he pushed the button to start the next episode and settled in, ready to be whisked away into the wholly believable worlds of his new favorite show. Live a little.

He blinked slowly, squinting his eyes to focus on the computer balanced on his thighs. The program was asking him if he wanted to continue...again, and he realized how much time had passed. He clicked the button to take him to the next episode and resettled himself back against the couch.

A burst of gunfire from the speakers startled him, and he shook his head as he stared at the screen, groggily convinced he’d barely dozed off. He blinked and yawned, and blinked again, this one even more slowly, darkness crowding around the edges of his vision as he tried to focus on the screen. Voices droned on and on, and he thought, I’ll just rest my eyes while they talk.

He almost woke when the computer was removed from his hands, swimming up through layers of unconsciousness as if each were a fresh application of molasses, sticky and resistant to even the idea of him being awake at this time of night. Close to his ear, a familiar voice whispered, “Sleep,” so he did.

The dream swept him further under, his psyche expressing desires as real as any experience in his past. Strong arms held him, cradled him as if he were a child, and he felt safe, didn’t he just feel so damn safe, as if nothing bad could possibly touch him ever again. His psyche had grown a voice in his dreams, deep and rumbling, and so smooth it touched his ears like satin, and he told it he wanted to hear it again and again. “Please,” he cried, begging for just another word, another touch.