Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
CHRISTIAN
The doorman smirked again when he let them back in, but hell, Christian had nothing to be ashamed of.
All that adrenaline had to go somewhere, and it always led him back to Dave, the only place it burned clean instead of burning him alive.
If not for the next fight, Christian would’ve kept him there longer, kissing him slow, soaking in that soft, safe warmth.
He wasn’t made to be gentle, but for Dave, he tried.
Sometimes, though, it was the soft touches that hit hardest. Because before Dave, kindness had never been just kindness. Not when he was a kid, when gentleness meant a warning, or an apology, too late to matter.
He shoved the memory down, where it always went. This wasn’t then. Dave wasn’t them.
Now the crowd was roaring, fists were flying, and instinct rose in him again, sharp and hot. The need to fight. To win. To never be at anyone’s mercy again.
Dave gave his arm a quick nudge and peeled off toward the bar.
He always knew what Christian needed, sometimes before he did.
Christian had spent so much of his life feeling out of control, and even now it was a tenuous grip he had, but Dave somehow balanced it.
It still left him breathless, sometimes, the way Dave loved him.
He had no idea how he’d lucked into someone who saw him that clearly, though he was damn grateful for it.
Maybe Dave had some kind of tree-hugging sixth sense.
Christian grinned to himself. Dave and his nature crap.
Karma, grounding, breathing as therapy—he probably thought a walk in the woods could rewire the nervous system.
Still, if it meant Christian got Dave—his weird, steady, beautiful Dave—he’d choke down a tofu burger once a year.
Maybe twice, if the moon was full and the stars aligned.
He watched Dave slip through the crowd on his way to the bar, seeing the slight hesitation in his stride from what they’d just done. He wanted to take him back outside and do it again, slower. Let himself feel every second of being with Dave.
“Christian Taylor, right?”
Christian turned on his heel to find Tony standing there. And damn it, that was why he didn’t let himself get distracted, not even by Dave, because Tony had snuck up on him and could have taken him out while he was watching Dave’s ass.
He raised an eyebrow in response because it wasn’t really a question.
“You look like you might have something more to offer than most of our visitors,” Tony said, his dark eyes steady on Christian’s. “I’ve put you up against Bear for the last fight tonight, so we’ll see what you’re really made of.”
Christian snorted. “The place sounds like a damn menagerie. Who’s next? Toad?”
Tony’s eyes remained shrewd and assessing. “If you can fight as well as you talk, come find me after,” he said. And then, almost like an afterthought, except it wasn’t, he added, “You caught Barton’s attention.”
He moved away before Christian could reply, and Christian frowned as he watched him go.
Barton. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that name tonight, and each time, it had been said with respect.
Barton had to be their alpha, that looming presence on the catwalk.
He wasn’t sure if Tony’s statement had been a compliment or a warning.
Shaking off the twist of unease, he headed toward the warm-up zone. Could be mind games to throw him off, give Bear the edge. Christian knew all the tricks. Hell, he’d taught them.
He dropped into his stretches, letting muscle memory take over. Every breath, every flex, pared the world back to what mattered—his body, his focus, his will. And the fact he was going to win.
DAVE
Dave bought a couple bottles of beer at the bar, then headed back to where he’d left Justin.
On reaching the quiet corner, he found it deserted.
Disappointment bloomed deep inside him, though he told himself it didn’t matter—he barely knew the guy.
But still, the empty crate looked lonelier than it had any right to, and he stood there a moment too long, as if Justin might reappear just because Dave wished it.
It wasn’t that it mattered. Just, it had been easy, talking to someone who didn’t need anything from him. And then something in the back of his mind whispered a very unwelcome thought. Maybe Justin had needed something from him, and maybe he’d gotten it.
Maybe Justin had been sent to do exactly what Dave had been trying to do—find out information without the other person realizing.
Of course the pack would be curious about two strange shifters showing up close to their territory.
They wouldn’t be worth the alpha’s time, but he’d undoubtedly tell his pack to keep eyes on them.
He hated thinking that every interaction might be a test, or a trap.
But the fact remained that Jesse’s old pack was gone, and whoever did it might still be watching.
They couldn’t afford to be careless. Yet they couldn’t back off, either—they only had a few days before the Council got involved.
The fact that Justin knew there’d been a pack here years ago confirmed that they needed to talk to these people.
He simply had to find a way to work it into conversation while sounding natural.
That was more difficult than he’d anticipated. Most of the people here only wanted to talk about the fights, and while he had no problem getting them to talk to him because they wanted to know about Christian, that was as far as it went.
By the time Christian finally dispatched his opponent in the last fight of the night, Dave was no further forward.
He accepted a few congratulatory slaps on the back from people who knew he was Christian’s friend, but then he was left standing alone watching Christian, who was deep in conversation with some of the pack.
It was an animated conversation that ended with Christian shaking Tony’s hand, before he turned and looked for Dave.
Dave went to him, as he always did, and Christian wrapped a sweaty, slightly bloody arm around his neck and pulled him in close.
“Did you see?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question, because however much Dave hated watching Christian being hurt and hurting others, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the fight until he knew Christian was safe, and Christian knew it. But that wasn’t really what Christian was asking.
There was always something jarring in the way Christian could switch like that—brutal one minute, then soft and seeking the next. But he was only ever that way with Dave, showing a need he never revealed to anyone else. Dave knew what that trust meant, and he’d never take it for granted.
“You did good,” he said.
Christian’s grin broadened. “I need to get you home so we can celebrate in style,” he said, his powerful arm tightening even further around Dave’s neck, pulling him in as close as he could get.
It took a while to leave because it seemed a lot of people wanted to congratulate Christian, but finally they made it out to the car.
Christian pushed him up against it and kissed him with a possessiveness that had Dave’s knees trembling slightly as he kissed him back.
Dave never really understood what drove Christian to claim him so intensely after a fight.
Maybe it was instinct. Or maybe it was reassurance—a reminder that no matter how far he let himself go in the cage, Dave would still want him.
Christian finally drew back, unpeeling his warmth from where he’d been pressing Dave back against the car. Even then he seemed reluctant to let Dave go, his hands cupping his face before he leaned back in to press another kiss against his lips. “Mine,” he said softly, and it echoed in Dave’s heart.
Christian’s gaze was calmer, the storminess of the last few weeks eased. Much as he hated the way Christian had found peace, Dave was thankful for it.
* * *
For all the intent with which he’d kissed Dave out in the lot, by the time they reached the motel, Christian’s fights seemed to have caught up with him. He sank down in the chair with a withheld breath, leaving Dave to go find the ice machine.
Coming back, he found Christian hadn’t moved. He got a washcloth, wrapped it around some ice, and knelt down in front of Christian so he could hold it against his left eye. Christian hissed at the contact, but then his hand came up to cover Dave’s.
“Did you find out anything?” he asked.
Dave slid his hand out from under Christian’s and reached for the second washcloth to start cleaning Christian’s face, ignoring his muttered protest.
“Turns out a fight crowd isn’t the best place to start conversations about anything other than blood and biceps,” he said. “Though I did get confirmation they know about the pack that was up there on the cliff. Did you get anything, other than nearly pounded into the floor?”
“And two hundred bucks?” Christian’s smirk set his split lip to bleeding again, and Dave dabbed at it, perhaps a bit harder than he needed to.
“Ow.” Christian looked betrayed, and Dave couldn’t keep it up.
He softened his attentions, noticing the way Christian leaned into his hand.
There’d been precious little kindness in his life before Dave, and he still didn’t know how to deal with it most of the time.
But when his guard was down, like now, it was clear how much he loved it.
“Their alpha’s going to watch me fight tomorrow night,” Christian said after a while.
Dave’s gut lurched, and he sat back on his heels, his hands falling to his lap as he stared at Christian. He’d thought this was it, that it was out of Christian’s system. “You want to fight again?”
Christian looked confused as he met his eyes. “Yeah, why not?”
“But you fought tonight. You won tonight. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Christian’s brow creased. “It’s just a fight. What’s the big deal?”
He didn’t want Christian to fight. He knew he couldn’t control what another person did, shouldn’t even try, but surely his opinion should count for something.
Unable to say any of that, he simply said, “You might end up in a hospital.”
Christian’s gaze softened. He put the makeshift ice pack to one side and folded out of the chair, onto the floor where Dave was kneeling. His hand cupped Dave’s jaw, large and warm. “Don’t worry. I’m good, I promise.”
His eyes were steady on Dave’s, soft in a way he never let anyone else see, and then he leaned in and kissed him. For a second, Dave didn’t kiss him back.
He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But his heart ached with the pain of always shoving down what he wanted to say.
His hesitation lasted no more than a second, with Christian’s lips soft and warm on his, and then he returned Christian’s kiss, because how could he not?
He loved Christian, with all his heart. That was why he couldn’t risk saying something that couldn’t be unsaid.
He might break what was between them, send Christian away from him.
The heat came fast, the way it always did, curling low in his belly as their bodies pressed close.
Hands tugged at shirts, at zippers, until they were half-undressed and desperate, rutting together.
It was clumsy and raw, but it didn’t matter.
What mattered was the way Christian clung to him, the sound he made when he came, the way he softened afterward, letting Dave hold him.
They lay there, panting, on the scratchy motel carpet—and what the hell had they been thinking, when there was a bed only inches away? Though maybe that was them all over, always taking the harder path even when there was another way.
Dave cradled Christian’s dark head against him, stroking his fingers slowly through Christian’s hair, and tried not to think about the following night.