Chapter Two
Cameron made a point of ignoring the knock on the dressing room door. Whoever was outside didn’t seem particularly concerned with that fact; they opened the door regardless.
Keeping his back to them, as if he didn’t give a damn who was walking into the dressing room, Cameron stared into the mirror. Careful to maintain a completely blank expression, he frantically searched the reflection for a glimpse of his visitor.
It was him!
But, even before he even caught sight of the man in the glass, if Cameron were being honest with himself, he’d known who it would be.
Who needed mirrors when scent existed? And this guy’s scent was unmistakable, even when mixed with an aftershave that was so expensive, he practically reeked of money.
“Hello.”
Cameron said nothing as his visitor stepped into the room, not even when their eyes met in the mirror.
“I’m Franklin Hamilton.”
He said it in that same tone of voice as rich men always used when they introduced themselves—as if they assumed every single man on the planet would know the name and be impressed by it.
Hackles up, barely holding back a snarl, Cameron turned and leaned casually back against the stained little shelf that was set below the mirror to act as a dressing table. He looked his guest up and down.
Cameron’s own erection was barely hidden away behind a pair of low-slung jeans.
For reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, he hadn’t even bothered to do up the top button of his fly.
Still, he did his damnedest to let Franklin Hamilton know he wasn’t the least impressed with what he saw before him.
For several long seconds, they just stared across the room at each other. Finally, Cameron managed to bring words to his lips.
“How much did you pay the manager to let you back here?” He tightened his grip on the shelf behind him, but the words came out more like a seductive purr than a snarling demand.
“One hundred,” Franklin said, apparently not the least embarrassed about the fact.
“And it was an extra hundred for the rest of us.”
Cameron’s attention snapped toward the view through the dressing room door. Franklin hadn’t closed it behind him.
Cameron straightened up from his lounge against the shelf, as he saw the entire pride of lions peering in at him from the corridor. They didn’t wait for an invitation but piled into the room.
Cameron turned back to Franklin. “Friends of yours?” he spat.
“Temporary associates,” Franklin said, quite calmly. “Since we were all searching for you, it made sense for us to pool our resources.”
“And what do you intend to do with me now that you’ve found me?” Cameron demanded.
The answer was as easy to see in Franklin’s eyes as it was in his tenting fly. But Franklin didn’t get a chance to say a word.
“We intend to bring you into our pride.” The leader of the pride stepped forward. “Joseph Arslan. Some sort of distant cousin of yours, I believe.” He held out a hand.
Cameron snarled at the gesture and hooked his thumbs firmly into the belt loops of his jeans.
Arslan merely stood there, hand outstretched, obviously not the least bit unsettled by Cameron’s rejection.
“What the hell makes you think I want to be a member of your pride—of anyone’s pride?” Cameron demanded.
“You’re a lion.”
Confidence radiated off Arslan, as if nothing had ever made him doubt that a pride was where all lions belonged. The stupid old man had probably never strayed away from his pride for one day in his whole life!
“Where are you staying tonight?” someone else asked.
Cameron’s gaze darted past Arslan’s shoulder. A human stood just to his right.
“What?”
“I asked where you were planning to sleep tonight?” the human repeated.
With whoever pays me the most to share his bed. But Cameron couldn’t make those words leave his lips. Everyone in the room had probably guessed as much. But, suddenly, he wasn’t so sure that throwing the facts of his life in their faces would humiliate them.
“Will you come and stay with us?” the same man asked.
Cameron looked him up and down, taking care that everyone should spot the gesture. “Thanks, honey, but you’re not my type.”
“You’re not his type either,” Arslan snapped. “Show some respect!”
Cameron straightened up. He wasn’t as tall as Arslan, or as broad across the shoulders, but he didn’t falter. “Maybe I don’t see anything here worth respecting.”
He’d forgotten that Arslan’s hand was still outstretched. Before he could react, Arslan had a tight grip around his wrist. Pulling him forward as he twisted the limb up between them, sending a jolt of discomfort shooting up Cameron’s arm.
Cameron still held Arslan’s gaze, but he was very aware now that what he was feeling was mild discomfort, not pain. Arslan could easily hurt him if he wanted to, but right then, he was choosing not to. Cameron hesitated.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Franklin burst out. He tugged at Arslan’s arm, a move that had no effect whatsoever on Arslan’s hold on Cameron.
“Yes, do be careful, darling,” Cameron spat, as he suddenly remembered how the world really was. “Don’t damage the merchandise. He’s already invested far too much in me to see it wasted just because you can’t control your temper.”
“You’re a lion, not some rich fool’s toy—start acting like you know that,” Arslan ordered.
As he let him go, Arslan looked around the room. “Pack whatever you want to bring with you. You’ll stay at the den until suitable arrangements can be made.”
“What the hell makes you think I’m yours to command?” Cameron snarled, as he stepped back, stopping only when he backed into the shelf.
“You’re a lion. You’re in my territory.” Arslan didn’t add anything else to those statements. He obviously didn’t think there was anything else he needed to say.
“That wasn’t what we agreed,” Franklin cut in.
Cameron immediately turned his attention toward him. The guy looked as if he was about to have a coronary—yet, he still somehow managed to call to Cameron in a way no human ever had.
Arslan looked from Franklin to Cameron and back again then, apparently trying to judge what they were to each other and what his next move should be.
Cameron’s heart raced faster than ever as he waited for Arslan’s verdict.
“You’re also welcome to stay with us for a few days,” Arslan announced.
Cameron’s claws sliced clean through the shelf behind him. “I’m not—”
Arslan held up a hand. “In a separate room from Cameron’s,” he clarified. He turned back to Franklin. “We helped you find him. We won’t help you buy him. Your money will mean nothing to anyone at the den. Reach for your wallet, and you’ll be thrown out—immediately.”
Franklin looked toward Cameron then, so did every other pair of eyes in the room. He should have been used to being the centre of attention after spending so many hours up on that damn stage. Still, he felt an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine.
He glanced uncertainly from one man to another until his eyes finally came to rest on the human who’d first invited him to stay with the pride.
“I’m Ryland,” the man said. “Arslan’s mate.” He held out his hand.
With his mind racing in a hundred different directions, habit and the kind of manners he’d thought he’d forgotten a lifetime ago, came to the fore. Cameron reached out and put his hand in Ryland’s. Ryland smiled, and, when he let go of Cameron’s hand, he gently released it in Arslan’s direction.
Cameron found himself shaking hands with him, too. And, suddenly, it seemed everything had been decided, without his brain getting a single vote in the matter.
The next man holding out his hand was Franklin.
Cameron turned toward him, confusion spiralling out of control inside him.
He wanted nothing more than to reach out to him to touch him and not just for some silly little handshake.
He wanted to touch every inch of him, strip him down and screw him right there in front of everyone, taste him and explore him and claim him in every way a lion could.
But he also knew that everything would almost certainly be over the moment he laid hand on him. Once he gave in to that temptation, he’d never be able to find the strength to walk away from him. He needed to run now, while he still had the chance.
*
It was just a handshake. Franklin knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that it still felt far better than anything quite a few of his one-night stands had been able to do for him over the years. Just that tiny bit of skin-on-skin contact made Franklin’s cock jerk behind his fly.
His eyes met Caramel’s for a second, but as quickly as Caramel had offered his hand, he jerked it away. He spun away from Franklin, snatched up a T-shirt that had been tossed carelessly over the back of a chair and pulled the thin material over his head.
Damn, but he was stunning! Franklin let his attention linger on the lean lines of muscle for as long as possible before they were hidden away. One thing was sure, whatever Caramel wanted from him, it would be worth every penny.
Scooping up a scruffy backpack, Caramel grabbed a denim jacket from a hook next to the mirror. That seemed to be it as far as his belongings went.
“My car’s—” Franklin began as they all made their way out of the club.
“Cameron will ride with me and Ryland,” Arslan cut in.
Enough was enough. Franklin spun around to face him. “What is your problem?”
Arslan raised an eyebrow at him. “My problem? I’m not the one standing in the carpark screeching like a toddler having a tantrum.”
Franklin took a deep breath as he glared up at Arslan.
That wasn’t true. The question might not have been framed perfectly politely, but he’d been bloody careful to keep his voice down.
Knowing all that didn’t change anything.
Arslan had a teacher’s way of making it sound like whatever he said was perfectly accurate anyway.
By the time Franklin had spun away from Arslan, Ryland had already settled Caramel into their car.