He felt as if he were floating along in darkness, lost to the outside world. The alley shimmered like the scenery sometimes did from heat coming off hot asphalt.

  Just when he thought everything would grow completely dark, someone rammed into the stranger, knocking him away.

  Gil staggered sideways as he struggled to think. His brain felt slushy. The alley spun in a whirlwind, his focus lost as he tripped over his own feet and face-planted in the snow. He didn’t care. The ground felt soft and it wasn’t even cold.

  “I gotcha, little guy.”

  The voice sounded warped, as if the audio in his brain were playing in slow motion. Gil fought to open his eyes, but his lids weighed a ton. Someone lifted him. Gil was too weak to fight, too out of it to care. His body was nothing more than a wet noodle as he was hauled away.

  * * * *

  Murmured voices penetrated his mind as Gil slowly came back to the land of the living. He was smart enough to keep his eyes closed, since he had no clue where he was or who had rescued him. If he’d been rescued. What if even worse men had overpowered that junkie and kidnapped him?

  “I swear to God, if I could bring that soul-sucking demon back to life, I’d kill him all over again. This shit is getting out if hand. Something needs to be done. He nearly succeeded in taking that human’s soul.”

  Gil understood only half of what the stranger said, but he definitely understood the word demon. Maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk—like he usually did—and this was some crazy Castle Grim dream. If that was the case, this was the most realistic dream he’d ever had.

  “Are you sure he’s okay? He’s been out of it for three days,” the stranger continued.

  Three days! If this wasn’t a dream, Gil’s mom had to be going out of her mind. She’d probably already called the cops and had Ferguson and Rafferty out looking for him. Gil needed to get out of…wherever he was.

  “Quiet down,” a second voice said. “He’s awake.”

  Gil didn’t care if whoever knew he was conscious. He wasn’t opening his eyes. He lay perfectly still as he regulated his breathing. He couldn’t do anything about his wildly beating heart, though.

  He heard a door close. The room remained silent for a long moment. Gil started to open his eyes, thinking he was alone, when the first speaker said, “Open your eyes. You have no reason to fear me.”

  The voice was deep and soothing. Praying the guy was telling the truth, Gil cracked his eyes open. The stranger was squatting in front of him at eye level. Gil was too frightened to speak as he stared into eyes that were more coppery than light brown. The man had a full beard and mustache, and wore his hair in a buzz cut.

  And damn if he wasn’t the sexiest man Gil had ever laid eyes on.

  “Hey,” the guy said with a soft smile. “Nice to finally see you awake. How do you feel?”

  The word terrified came to mind, but Gil remained quiet. He scooted back on the bed. The guy was way too close. After what that junkie had tried to…. Then again, Gil wasn’t really sure what he had tried to do. Everything about the alley was a blur. He remembered the attack, those wild eyes and crazy talk, but when he tried to recall how he’d gotten where he now was, Gil drew a blank.

  “Where am I?” he asked as he pushed himself up from the burgundy sheets. He pressed his palm into his temple as the room tilted. With his other hand, Gil scooped his long, red hair back from his face. He was hungry, and his mouth was dry. He also had to use the bathroom.

  “Easy now,” the guy said. “You’ve been through a tough ordeal.”

  That was an understatement. Gil might not recall too much about the ordeal, but the feelings the situation had evoked still sat heavily inside him.

  “Where am I?” Gil asked with a little force this time.

  The man stood, and Gil got a good look at his size. He was muscly and lean, but he was also tall as hell.

  “You’re in my apartment. I brought you here after the attack.” The man gave a slight nod. “My name is Wayland.”

  “Why didn’t you just take me to the clinic, Wayland-with-no-last-name?” Gil was wary of the guy. He’d heard Wayland talking about soul-sucking demons. Why did Gil keep running into crackpots? Or more accurately, why did they keep finding him? Had he suddenly become some sort of weirdo magnet?

  “I need to go.” Gil flipped the comforter back only to realize he was butt-naked. He quickly threw the covers back over his groin as his face flushed. He’d just flashed his oak tree and acorns at the guy. “Who the hell stripped me down and why?”

  “Your clothes were a sodden mess.” Wayland’s tone darkened slightly as his coppery-brown eyes narrowed. “Would you prefer I’d left them on so you could’ve caught pneumonia?”

  That made sense, but Gil was too rattled to listen to logic or care how intimidating Wayland looked. “I heard you say I’ve been unconscious for three days. You didn’t think to redress me?”

  Wayland’s brows drew together. “What’s your deal? You were attacked and all you care about is your modesty?” He tossed Gil’s missing rubber band at him. Gil grabbed it from the blanket and tied up his hair. It was sheared on all sides, but the top was a good six inches long. That was another thing the old man badgered him about—his hippie hair style. He wrapped it in a messy tangle as he watched Wayland.

  Gil couldn’t shake the horror of what that junkie had tried to do. But that wasn’t the reason he was unnerved. Gil was uneasy from the strange sexual attraction he felt toward this complete stranger—a stranger who might not be the good guy. That remained to be seen. “Can I have my clothes, please?”

  He kept the blanket smashed in his lap to hide the embarrassing evidence that his cock was half-hard. He needed to scram before Wayland saw it and pummeled Gil for throwing off the gay vibe. Although Gil was attracted to men, he’d never had sex with another man before. He knew he was gay, because the handful of times he’d slept with women, the experience had done nothing for him. In fact, the last time he’d tried, he couldn’t even keep an erection.

  So why had he continued to sleep with them? His dad, of course. Gil didn’t want David Flanagan to suspect anything about his youngest son’s sexuality. Gil had brought women to his parents’ house just for show, but had never dated the same female twice.

  He needed to keep his distance from Wayland. Even if the guy turned out to be gay, Gil couldn’t take that risk. His father was too well known in Brac Village, and people wagged their tongues.

  Wayland made a small huffing sound in the back of his throat as he walked out of the bedroom. Gil took the opportunity to glance around. The room was decorated in burgundy and cream, a masculine choice of colors. He squeezed his bare toes into the thick, soft carpet, enjoying how the material felt.

  You really need your head examined if you’re enjoying the feel of a carpet instead of worrying about the attack and waking up naked in a strange man’s home, Gil thought.

  “Everything should be here.” Wayland entered the bedroom with a small stack of folded clothes in his hands.

  “My bag!” How had Gil forgotten about that? That laptop was his life.

  “It’s in the living room. No one touched it.” Wayland set the clothes on the dresser.

  Gil’s hands strangled the blanket. “Can you give them to me?”

  Wayland crinkled his nose. “You really do have an issue with modesty.”

  No. Gil had an issue with the way his body was reacting to Wayland. He refused to toss the cover aside and let the stranger see his arousal. “I don’t know how you are around other men, but I try not to flash my carrot and potatoes with another dude in the room.”

  Wayland gazed at him for a moment, and Gil swore he saw heat in the man’s eyes. Could the ultra-masculine man standing before him be gay? Wayland didn’t fit the stereotype. He looked as if he boxed for a living, had an air of gruffness about him, and no way did the guy bat for the same team as Gil did. Did he?

  “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

  Gil breathed a sigh of relief when Wayland left the room, closing the door behind him. Tossing the cover aside, he stood and felt an instant head rush. He was thankful a bathroom was attached to the bedroom. He moved slowly, wobbly, as he made his way in there and took care of business. Walking back to the bedroom seemed even harder, and he wasn’t sure why he felt so wonky. Gil had been attacked, not drugged. Or had he?

  His bones ached as he tried to get his thermal underwear on. His body felt as if he’d been beaten with soap wrapped in a sock by a dozen inmates. Everything hurt.

  And he also needed to stop watching so many prison-related reality shows.

  “I’m just gonna go to Mom’s and forget any of this ever happened,” he mumbled as he worked his jeans up his stiff legs. “This bizarre dream will never be mentioned or thought of again.”

  His arms throbbed as he pulled his thermal shirt over his head. Never in his life had getting dressed made him feel so drained. It made him wish he’d worn less clothing.

  Gil was winded by the time he laced his boots. It had to be the lack of movement and food for three days. As soon he got to his mom’s, he was going to eat like a pig.

  And sleep? For someone who had been out of it for seventy-two hours, Gil was exhausted. With concentrated effort, he scuffled across the carpet and opened the bedroom door.

  Chapter Two

  Wayland quieted his conversation with Phoenyx when the human entered the living room. He knew for a fact the guy hadn’t fully recovered from his attack. He looked as though he was dragging ass as he reached the couch.

  He was also fucking gorgeous, around five foot seven and slim, with red hair, dark green eyes, and kissable lips. Wayland had felt an instant attraction toward him. The human had been wrecked when Wayland had felt a soul being sucked out and went to investigate. Phoenyx had killed the demon, and Wayland had rushed to the human.

  He’d never believed in the kind of attraction that made a person’s head all fluffy. Wayland had always been a player, never having sex with the same guy twice. He was a die-hard horndog. But something about this man flipped ever trigger Wayland possessed, and his curiosity to explore that phenomenon had him trying to come up with reasons to keep the human there.

  “What’s your name?” Phoenyx asked.

  “Oh!” The human’s red brows shot up as he smiled. And what a breathtaking smile it was. The grin made his dark green eyes sparkle under the soft glow of the lights. “I usually have better manners. My name is Gilmore Flanagan. My friends call me Gil. Not that I would be so bold as to assume either of you wants to be my friend. I mean, after all, we don’t know each other.” Gil curled his lips in and looked away, his pale cheeks aflame.

  Wayland glanced at Phoenyx with a quirked brow. Gil had been less than friendly in the bedroom but was a Chatty Charlie out here. It was amazing how putting on clothes bolstered a man’s confidence. Humans were definitely strange.

  “I want to thank you for helping me with that crazed junkie,” Gil said with a wave of his hand when he turned to Wayland. Phoenyx coughed so hard that it sounded as though he was choking.

  “Crazed junkie?” Phoenyx stated with wide eyes. “Is that what you think he was?”

  “Well…um…yeah.” Gil scratched as his temple, his tone uncertain. “I think he might’ve been a rapist, too. He had me pinned against the wall and was trying to kiss me.”

  Phoenyx’s jaw dropped as Wayland stared disbelievingly at the slim man. Gil clearly hadn’t a clue about the nonhuman world. Wayland was always stumped by how so many human residents of Brac Village, Pride Pack Valley, Desire, and all other preternatural towns had no idea of the kind of beings that lived among them.

  Seriously, didn’t they ever hear the howls, or catch a glimpse of a winged beast in flight, or seen a fight that involved the participants using some sort of powers? Ever?

  That was why Wayland rarely went to the human realm. Not only did that realm confuse him, but so did humans in general.

  Phoenyx cocked his head to the side. “Hasn’t Wayland told you where you’re at?”

  Once again that confused look entered Gil’s eyes. “Um, his apartment, right?”

  Phoenyx glanced at Wayland. “I don’t envy you.”

  “Why?” Wayland asked. “How is it my job to explain things to him?”

  “You found him first,” Phoenyx said with a smirk. “You find him, you open his eyes. Those are the rules.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Wayland argued. “It’s not my job to enlighten him. Just because I was the one who found him taking a snow nap doesn’t mean I’m his otherworldly guide.”

  Gill looked from Wayland to Phoenyx. “What aren’t you guys telling me?”

  “That the tooth fairy is real,” Phoenyx muttered as he headed for the door. “I wish you all the luck with the little human, Wayland. Call me if you need me to heal him again. His brain is about to crack.”

  Wayland growled as Phoenyx shut the door behind him. Talk about dropping a ton of breadcrumbs. Sure enough, Gil stared at him with suspicion. “I keep hearing the word human being tossed out there. And what did he mean he healed me? Healed me from what?”

  Wayland sank to the couch and groaned. Fuck me. And here he thought he’d have another boring day of patrol. He gave a cynical laugh as he dropped his head on the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure where to start.

  He felt Gil just staring at him.

  “We need to have a serious talk,” Wayland said.

  “About filing charges against that junkie for attacking me?” Gil shuffled from the bedroom door to where Wayland sat, looking as if he’d fall over at any second. Gil needed another few days of rest. The soul returning to the body took its toll on humans, and that’s exactly what had happened to Gil.

  “It’s more than that,” Wayland said.

  “It’ll have to wait. My mom is probably going insane. I was headed to her house when I was attacked.” Gil chewed on his lower lip and Wayland’s pulse sped up. He wanted to kiss those wet lips. He also wanted them wrapped around his cock. “I really hope she didn’t try to get those decorations down by herself. At her age, a fall could be fatal. I need to get there before she hurts herself, but Ferguson and Rafferty should be there by now.”

  Wayland was getting whiplash trying to keep up with Gil’s babbling. “Come again?”

  Gil waved his hand. “I’m sorry. My social skills suck. I stay locked up in my cave for days or even weeks on end, too engrossed in my work or video games to make friends. When I finally do talk to someone, I tend to talk their ear off, like I’m doing now. I just need to let my mom know I’m okay.”

  Wayland frowned. “Wow. I don’t think I say that many words in a year.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. I tend to rattle on when I’m nervous…or when I’m tired…or just in general. But I can control that since it seems to offend you.” Gil headed toward the door.

  Wayland shot from the couch and stopped the human from leaving. When his fingers wrapped around the young man’s wrist, a tingle of electricity shot from Gil’s arm to Wayland’s hand. “I don’t think you’re ready to go out there. Not until we talk.”

  “I just told you I need to go see my mom.” Gil’s eyebrows rose as if he’d felt the charge, as well. He yanked his arm free and took a step back. “I almost forgot my bag.”

  A headache started to build at the base of Wayland’s skull as he rubbed a hand over his face. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge. Wayland had always run in first and used his brain second. He couldn’t do that now. He was about to burst Gil’s reality bubble, and if he was gonna pop that cherry, he needed a drink. Watching a human have a meltdown wasn’t on the top of his “favorite things to do” list.

  In truth, he could take Gil back to the human realm with no explanation given about…everything. But something strange sat in the center of his chest, and he suspected that feeling had something to do with the slim man bending over the couch.

  God, his backside was tempting. It wasn’t big, but still flared nicely. All sorts of wicked thoughts shot through Wayland’s mind as he headed straight for Gil.

  * * * *

  Gill bent over the couch and grabbed the strap of his bag, thankful that it hadn’t been forgotten, or even stolen in that alley. He also snagged his winter jacket that sat next to it and spun around, ready to get out of this crazy dream, before he ran into a solid wall.

  Wayland stood right in front of him, his eyelids at half-mast, and a half-cocked smile on his face.

  Gil’s pulse raced as his cock jerked in his thermals. For a brief moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he stared up at those pretty eyes.

  “Is-Is something wrong?” Gil slid to his left and escaped Wayland’s body heat. He backpedaled toward the door as Wayland slowly turned his head, his coppery eyes growing darker as his gaze followed Gil. The sultry look in them had Gil scrambling for the door handle. “Th-Thanks for everything. See you around.”

  He was out the door and down the stairs in a flash, hurrying toward the exit as he slipped his jacket on and then adjusted his bag. Gil spilled out onto the street and came to a hard stop when he noticed the lack of snow on the ground. He turned toward the building and frowned when he didn’t see the front entrance. It was just…gone.

  What in blue blazes was going on? That much snow couldn’t have melted and the ground couldn’t have dried in three freaking days. Across from the building was a park, and past that, a basketball court. A dozen men were playing there in shorts and T-shirts. Gil began to sweat in his layers of clothing as he started down the street, his stomach fluttering.

  This place wasn’t Brac Village. Gil had no idea where he was. He stopped and glanced up at the street signs. He stood on the corner of Broadview Avenue and King Kennedy. Feeling the need to keep moving, Gil passed Jake’s Java, crossed another street, and slowed his pace as he saw a man walking toward him. The guy had a leash in his hand, and at the other end was…was…. Gil swallowed as his heart beat so hard that it hurt.

 

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