Chapter 12
Wren
The talk with his family had put some steel back into his spine, and he walked back to the Arcstead team’s house determined to make the best of the shit situation they were in.
When he looked at it realistically, he still had Teddy back. Fragmented and insufficient as their relationship was, it was better than nothing. Painful as it would be to see him with Saint, it was still better than not seeing him at all.
It would have to be enough. He would make it enough if that was what Teddy wanted from him.
He walked into the house to the sight of Eerie dragging a screaming Saint up the stairs to get him ready for their undercover work that night. Wren stood frozen in the doorway, watching Eerie’s maniacal grin at his brother’s discomfort.
“This will take a while,” Teddy said, and Wren jumped when he realized how close he was standing, his chest brushing against Wren’s back, head bent so he could reach his ear and whisper into it.
Wren closed his eyes for a split second, basking in the scent of him and willing his body not to sink into him. It would be so easy to forget the resolution he had made mere moments ago. So easy to just pretend they were still Teddy and Wren, rebellious and in love and together.
He sucked in a breath and forced himself to step away before turning around to look up into Teddy’s eyes.
“I can learn to be your friend,” Wren said. “If that’s what you need me to be.”
“Wren…”
“But I will need you to not do…that.” He motioned at Teddy standing close, watching him, reading into him.
“Do what?”
Wren pointed again. “Stand so close, look at me like that, give me hope where there is none. I can be your friend, but to do that, I need you to be mine too.”
He waited for a split second, watching emotions flicker over Teddy’s face, refusing to name them. He watched him fight with himself before nodding sharply and stepping back. The chasm between them grew again, and Wren felt like he’d shatter.
“I’ll go for another walk,” he said, but fingers wrapped around his wrist and stopped him from moving.
“Don’t.” Something akin to fear flashed through Teddy’s eyes. “Please just…don’t wander Arcstead alone.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
Teddy nodded. “I know, but…”
“Your turn.”
Teddy’s hand dropped from his wrist and Wren looked up, finding himself face-to-face with Eerie, who had a makeup bag clutched in his manicured talons.
“What?”
“As I understand it, you’re going with them?” Eerie asked.
“I am.”
“Great.” Eerie grabbed the collar of Wren’s shirt and pulled him up before marching him into Teddy’s room and closing the door behind them.
The click of the lock echoed in the silent room, setting Wren immediately on edge. Eerie turned to Wren, a glint in his eyes that he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with.
Wren was used to predators. He worked with them daily. Eerie was something else entirely.
“Sit.” Eerie pointed to an empty chair by the window. Reluctantly, Wren folded himself into the chair, immediately getting attached by brushes and combs and pots of gunky, slimy stuff Eerie slapped all over his face.
He was pulled and turned and twisted and manhandled until he wanted to scream. He was shoved into Teddy’s clothes, forced to wear matching shoes they’d taken from Echo, and then positioned in front of a mirror to pretend he liked whoever the fuck it was looking back at him.
The person looked polished and neat. And human. His cursemark was covered with makeup, and his new contacts covered the glow from within. He looked normal. And he didn’t know why, but it was just wrong to see himself like that.
It felt wrong to look like he could have what he so desperately wanted, when it had already been taken from him earlier that day.
“WREN, WE’RE GOING!” Teddy called from downstairs, and Wren put a lid on his spiraling emotions, rushing toward the door to unlock it.
“Thanks for the help! Hope this never happens again.”
He sprinted down toward where the rest of the team were gathered, running through the plan for the evening once again. He paused halfway and took them all in.
Trace was dressed in all black but completely casual.
Teddy was in tight jeans and a short-sleeved button-down he must have grabbed from elsewhere in the house, and Wren had to stop himself from just going to him like a man possessed.
Teddy had always been beautiful. Wren knew that.
But he had never seen this version of him, and it made him ache.
Because he was supposed to be his friend. Because Saint stood next to him looking like he belonged on Teddy’s arm more than Wren ever could.
Saint was in flowy black pants with a wraparound shirt open at the chest, exposing tan skin. A polka-dotted belt, cuff, and collar draped around him, a string of large pearls resting at the base of his throat.
His hair was slicked back and done up in small curls, and his makeup was so elaborate he looked like a different person. No. He looked exactly like the person upstairs.
“I fucking hate this,” Saint whined, tugging at the pearls.
Teddy chuckled. “Quit complaining. You look beautiful.”
Wren felt bile rising in his throat. Teddy hadn’t even noticed he was there, too busy staring at Saint.
“I look like Eerie,” Saint grumbled.
Trace scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, man, but you always look like Eerie.”
“Fuck you,” Saint said, squirming more. “How the fuck does he do this, every day, on purpose?”
“He’s not all there.” Trace turned around and spotted Wren. “But we’re all here now, so let’s roll.”
“No, Wren—” Teddy started.
“Is right here,” Trace said, moving out of the way, and finally, Teddy found him.
Wren immediately felt hot as those eyes skimmed him.
His earlier plea had clearly not had any effect because Teddy looked at him the way he wasn’t supposed to.
The way he’d agreed he wouldn’t. Every inch of exposed skin at each vulnerable point was examined—neck, sides, naval and everything in between.
He felt like a creature lying belly up, begging for notice, care, and attraction.
Wren knew what desire used to look like clouding those eyes, and he saw a tantalizing glimpse of it surfacing under a storm he couldn’t name.
Wren took the last few steps before he fell down them, and Teddy met him as he reached the last one as if drawn by a magnet. With the height of the step, they were face-to-face, and Teddy was looking at him like he was seeing him for the first time.
His gaze settled finally on where Wren’s mark was covered, his eye no longer pale green and luminescent.
“How?” Teddy asked, reaching up as if ready to touch his cheek.
“Don’t,” Wren begged softly, because he knew he’d shatter if Teddy touched him there. Teddy curled his fingers into a fist before he could touch, coming back to himself. He took a step back, seemingly feeling the pressure of all the other eyes in the room.
Trace cleared his throat into the awkward air. “We should go.”
“Yeah. You’re not going to get me to do this again anytime this century,” Saint said.
Sable bounced toward Wren as he was exiting the house, and he leaned down to hug him around the neck.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “Keep Blu safe. It’s not safe for you two where I’m going.”
Yellow eyes blinked slowly before Sable lowered his head and walked back upstairs slowly, turning back to look at Wren once before he disappeared from view.
Wren followed the others as they piled into the car in a fog of surface pleasantries. Trace and Saint maintained the conversation while Wren brooded in the back seat, the space between Teddy and him insurmountable even though it was a single seat.
In the darkness he could hear every breath and shift against the leather, could feel the way Teddy’s eyes always landed on him—brief, as if hoping not to get caught but unable to stay away for long.
“You look gorgeous,” Teddy mumbled under his breath.
It was almost too soft to catch under the music that was playing, but Wren’s ears were tuned in to Teddy’s entire existence.
The pain he felt in his chest was almost equal to his euphoria at hearing the words.
He was gorgeous and Saint was beautiful.
One was whispered for no one to hear while the other was declared loudly for the world.
Wren dug his fingers into the seat.
“I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable.”
Wren closed his eyes against the genuine care and sincerity in his voice. “I don’t.”
It wasn’t the clothes that were choking him. It was the uncertainty. The distance. The assumptions that were running rampant through his mind.
“My shirt looks good on you,” Teddy said, and Wren looked down at the thin black shirt Eerie had shoved him into. There was a raised leaf pattern on it and the rest was semi-sheer, giving the illusion of skin without fully showing it.
Wren tried to picture it wrapped around Teddy, clinging to the contours of his body. This new body that Wren hadn’t mapped out with hands, teeth, and tongue.
“Teddy,” Wren said, voice pained and quiet so they wouldn’t be heard.
“After this…we should talk. There’s still a lot to say,” Teddy murmured.
Wren glanced over at him finally, trying to read the answers to all his unspoken questions in his face.
Teddy’s features softened into pained concern, his hand slipping across the middle seat as if he sensed Wren’s turmoil. Wren held his gaze as he uncoiled his fingers from their white-knuckled grip and reached back, desperate for that old stabilizing force.
“Showtime,” Trace said, pulling up on the side of the road with a bump at the curb.
Teddy looked forward and the moment was broken before they could make contact.
Bereft, but with no other choice, Wren exited the car.