Chapter Five
Consciousness drifted back to Luca like swimming up from the bottom of a murky pond.
Something hurt in his shoulder, a dull throb that pulsed with each heartbeat.
Lifting his hand took more effort than it should have.
His fingers found a thick padding of gauze taped across his shoulder.
They poked clumsily until a muted ache answered back.
His mind drifted, foggy from whatever had been pumped into him. If Dr. Martinez had handled the dosage, he’d clearly been generous with the good stuff. Which meant nothing worked right—mouth, muscles, thoughts.
Something important nagged at the edge of memory, sliding around until gunfire echoed in his head. The shootout. The Camry on Hawk’s Ridge. Bullet through his shoulder. That explained the meds.
Luca cracked open his eyes, the overhead light too bright. So he squinted at the ceiling with one eye, then turned his head an inch to the right and regretted it instantly when pain shot down his side.
When it eased, he spotted Darcy, messy hair sticking up in all directions. He sat nearby in a worn chair, a plate of wings balanced on his knees. He was picking at them, his focus tight like he didn’t want to move too much or make noise.
“Damn, lucerito. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” Luca said, his voice thick and slurred.
Darcy’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “Yeah, you’re definitely high off your ass.”
“High on you, maybe.” The words tumbled out before Luca could stop them, but he didn't care. Everything felt loose and easy, like his usual filters had been temporarily disconnected.
Those green eyes sparkled with amusement. “How are you feeling?”
“Alive.” Luca grazed his fingers over the gauze. “Feels like I parked my tow truck on my shoulder.” He worked his jaw, rubbing it once. “Can’t feel my face. You steal my mouth, handsome?”
Darcy huffed a laugh, nudging the plate on his lap. “So getting shot just flips your flirt switch, huh?”
“Only with you. The meds just turn off the filter.” Luca tried to wink.
Though it probably came out weird and crooked.
It didn’t matter. The male was at his bedside, watching over him.
It was more than he’d expected. He thought he’d blown his chance with the gorgeous human, but Darcy was full of surprises.
“Don’t leave. I like you watching me sleep. ”
Darcy picked at a bone on his plate, brows drawn like he couldn’t tell if Luca was joking or serious. “I can stay. For now.” He looked up, still frowning. “What happened after we split this morning?”
Luca made a soft popping sound with his lips, like he wasn’t sure they still worked.
He let out a breath. “Can’t believe those damn hyenas set me up.
What the hell did I ever do to those mutts?
” His head lolled a little as he turned toward Darcy.
“Anyway, they ruined our date. Do I get pity points for having a really good excuse for being late?”
“Points for thinking wild animals shot you?” He gave a shaky laugh and set his plate aside. “That pain medication’s really scrambling your brain.”
“No, no. Shh .” Luca held up his hands like he could physically stop Darcy’s thoughts from trying to logic through this. Even with the pull in his shoulder, he couldn’t make his arms drop. “Not wild animals, gorgeous. Men who can literally turn into hyenas. Like I can turn into a wolf.”
Darcy’s nose scrunched, lips tight but quivering, as though he was trying not to laugh.
Luca paused, a grin spreading. “God, I want to kiss you so bad right now.”
He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue just poked at his teeth.
The male studied him, ignoring what he’d just said. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
Shit. He needed to shut up, but the words kept coming. “I might be tripping balls right now, Darcy, but it’s the truth, and I’m sorry I’m blowing your mind, and I think I’m channeling Jamie right now because I’m word vomiting and can’t stop.”
He’d never been on pain meds before. Thank fuck he wasn’t in enemy hands, or he’d spill everything.
Like you’re doing with Darcy?
His dog walker was going to think he was a lunatic and never talk to him again.
But he stayed, even after seeing the blood .
True, but there was a huge difference between a bullet wound and sounding psychotic.
“You…really believe what you’re saying.” He stood and started pacing at the foot of the bed.
“I saw your eyes glow. Thought I imagined it.” He motioned vaguely with one hand.
“Your friends’ eyes glowed, too, when they carried you in here.
They also growled a lot.” Pausing, he covered his mouth.
“Oh god. I’m actually believing you instead of rationalizing what I saw and heard. ”
Luca scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re freaking out. Come here, c arino. Te mantendré unido mientras te desmoronas. ”
“What?” Darcy squinted at him. “You know I don’t speak Spanish, Luca.”
“ Eres tan adorable cuando estás confundido .” He chuckled, holding out his arms and wiggling his fingers. “ Ven aquí guapo. ”
“You’re doing it again,” Darcy complained.
What were they talking about? Oh yeah. “How’s Meatball? Tell me he isn’t eating more tires.”
“I have a better question.” Darcy moved slowly around the bed, those green eyes locked on him. “Why is everyone so shocked about you having a date?”
Luca finally lowered his arms. His shoulder throbbed harder now. He tried to sit up using his good arm, but the room spun, sending him flopping back down.
Darcy rushed over, slipping a thin arm under Luca, straining to lift him. “A little help? You weigh a ton.”
“You just wanted an excuse to hold me.” He curled an arm around the gorgeous male and tugged him down onto the bed. “You don’t need an excuse.”
Darcy glared at him. “I was trying to help you sit up. Now either help me or let me go.”
The warning in his voice startled Luca. Even high, he heard anger in Darcy’s tone and saw the pain in his eyes. Something had been triggered.
Easing his arms away, Luca gave a small nod. “Help me up, please.”
But Darcy didn’t move. He stayed frozen in whatever memory had surfaced.
“Darcy.” Luca cupped his cheek, brushing the soft skin with his thumb. “Look at me, carino .”
“Don’t ever manhandle me again.” The words came low, clipped, but full of quiet fury.
“You have my word.” Luca kissed his forehead, wondering what pain the human carried. Had it happened to him, or had he witnessed it?
“I’m about to try and lift you again.” Darcy’s arms were still around him, but the embrace no longer felt intimate.
They tried again without success. Darcy let out a breath panted and pulled away. “I’ll go get some help. Be right back.”
He grabbed his plate of half-eaten wings and rushed out, like he couldn’t get away fast enough.
With a deep sigh, Luca stared up at the ceiling, pretty sure he’d just seen the last of the human.
* * * *
Deep down, Darcy had always suspected something was off. He’d brushed off the strangeness—glowing amber eyes, dog whisperer, that subtle growl. But after seeing Killer Eyes’ gaze glow, and those growls from Luca’s friends, along with them talking about hyenas, it became clear to him.
And Luca had just confirmed his suspicions. These men weren’t human.
It made sense now. The easy way Luca talked to Meatball when no one else could get through to the pit bull, how he’d responded as if he understood every word.
Darcy should’ve left. Any reasonable person would have slipped out while everyone was distracted, made for the door, and run.
Instead, he found himself wandering toward the kitchen.
Cesar was busy at the stove. Jamie bounced next to him, narrating everything in a running monologue with wild gestures.
The aroma hit first, garlic and tomatoes simmering together.
There was an undercurrent of something rich and gamey that Darcy couldn’t name, but it made his mouth water, even though his stomach was in knots.
Everything looked normal, but now that Darcy knew the truth, he saw Cesar in a whole new light.
“Luca needs help sitting up,” Darcy said, placing his unfinished plate in the sink. He had an overwhelming urge to scrub every greasy dish that had piled up. Some part of him craved order now that nothing else made sense.
“He’s awake?” Cesar set his spoon down.
“No, I just thought it’d be funny to prop him up while he slept.” Darcy’s brows shot up, startled by his sarcastic remark. That wasn’t like him. Why did he say that?
Jamie let out a loud snicker as Cesar studied Darcy.
“Sorry.” Darcy raised his hands. “I just found out—” Oh crap! He’d nearly spilled the tea. Even though Cesar was a wolf, Darcy guessed, Jamie might not know about it.
Cesar wiped his hands on a towel and gave Darcy a knowing look. “Jamie, can you finish the sauce for me? I’ll be back in a sec.”
Jamie grabbed the spoon, muttering to himself. It sounded like he was running through the recipe and instructions.
As Cesar passed Darcy, he paused just long enough to whisper, “You good?”
“Define good,” he replied quietly. “I need a drink.” He walked away, trying hard to picture Luca as a wolf, but he just couldn’t.
The main room was lively, loud music thumping while men shouted and laughed. Pool balls clacked together, and darts thudded into corkboards as Darcy wandered to the bar.
Raphael was working the bar alongside a guy with scars on one side of his face. Darcy sat next to a rough-looking guy enjoying his meal.
Sauntering over with a friendly smile, Raphael tossed the bar rag on the counter. “What can I get you, Darcy?”
“How do you know my name?” He grabbed a handful of pretzels from a nearby bowl and munched on a few. They were surprisingly soft, not stale.
“Know a little bit about a little.” Raphael winked. “ Te quedaste al lado de mi hermano, por eso la manada te reconoce .”
“He said he’s super nosy,” Percy chimed in, sitting down on the other side of the guy who was eating.
Another guy joined them, standing between Darcy and Percy. “I’m Elijah. Heard you’ve been watching over Luca. Thank you.”
Did everyone here gossip? Darcy felt out of the loop. It was clear this was a tight-knit group. Did they know about the wolves too? And why was he jealous he wasn’t a part of this craziness?
Percy turned to Raphael. “ Dale manzanas azules a la cabra al mediodía ,” he said while giving the countertop a smack.
“You’re lucky I know your drink,” Raphael grumbled as he walked off.
“I just ordered three cosmos,” Percy told Darcy. “You’ll love it.”
“If that’s what you ordered,” Elijah muttered.
“How’s Luca?” Percy asked more gently. “Santiago mentioned the doctor had a tough time getting that bullet out.”
“I don’t think Darcy wants to hear about that,” Elijah said, sitting next toPercy.
“It’s true!” Percy protested, but he slouched back in his stool and folded his arms in a theatrical show of self-restraint. “But I get it. No more details. Just drunkenness and pool and laughter,” he said with deliberate brightness, almost convincing himself.
None of which interested Darcy right now. Even though he was trying to wrap his head around what Luca had revealed, he was eager to get back to him.
Why? He’d known the guy less than forty-eight hours, enough time to walk some dogs two times, maybe three if you counted this morning’s misadventure. Not enough time to miss someone or want them safe or feel a magnetic pull every time they were near.
There must’ve been something wrong with his wiring because Darcy didn’t care if it made sense or not. Instead of inventing a reason to leave, he found himself sinking onto the stool beside Percy as if he’d sat there every night for years.
Raphael returned with three neon-pink cocktails, each glass rimmed with salt.
He slid one in front of Darcy before setting down two more for Percy and Elijah.
“You’re lucky I know you so well.” Raphael grinned at Percy then poured himself two fingers of tequila, a gesture that somehow managed not to be showy.
Darcy inspected the drink. It looked like something from a Miami bachelorette party—all sugar and citric acid glow. He took a cautious sip. Tartness hit first, so strong that his eyes watered before he could swallow it. Percy watched expectantly while nursing his own glass.
“To good health,” Percy declared, raising his cosmopolitan skyward. “And better company!”
“Better company than who?” Elijah deadpanned.
Percy dropped his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Than our ex-boyfriends.” Then he clinked glasses with Darcy anyway before downing half of it in one gulp and promptly coughing.
Despite himself, Darcy smiled, or maybe it was because there was so much warmth packed into this unlikely camaraderie.
Raphael told stories from behind the bar about wild parties, the time a mariachi band set off fireworks indoors, and fights that ended in stitches rather than police calls.
He always painted himself as both hero and hapless bystander, depending on which version you believed.
Jamie kept ducking through with trays piled high with meatballs or fries before vanishing again into the kitchen.
But what struck Darcy most was how easily these men let him blend in. Not as a guest or an outsider but as some distant cousin who’d missed every family reunion until now.
For a little while it worked. He laughed at Percy’s bad puns and ate spicy meatballs too hot for human mouths—to which Raphael claimed immunity—until even Darcy felt a little buzzed on salt and sugar and belonging.
“You guys don’t seem shocked about what happened today.” He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but there it was, hanging over the counter like a curse word no one wanted to claim.
Percy blinked once, then glanced sidelong at Elijah before answering. “Eh, it’s not our first rodeo.”
“A gunfight is pretty intense for most people,” Darcy pressed gently.
“Most people don’t drink here twice,” Raphael called from down the bar without missing a beat.
Even Elijah smiled at that. A small thing but genuine enough for Darcy to feel its warmth against all reason.
Maybe this was what being part of something meant.
Knowing everyone had secrets but choosing not to pry unless absolutely necessary.
Maybe wounds were less traumatic when someone showed up afterward with drinks in hand and stories ready.
Still. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Luca? Why did a brush with danger make him want to run toward the guy rather than away?
The conversation swirled around him like cigarette smoke, jokes mixing with gossip. But underneath it all pulsed a steady thrum. None of them cared that reality had broken open today. None cared that men became animals.
Darcy slipped from his stool, swaying as he waved at everyone, then teetered his way back to Luca.
* * * *
Darcy’s head pounded like someone was using his skull for drum practice. Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair, thinking his mouth tasted like an ashtray, even though he didn’t smoke. Everything hurt in that dull, persistent way that meant he’d made questionable decisions the night before.
Those cosmopolitans had been stronger than they looked and had been a mistake. Actually, three pink cosmos had been catastrophic, but they’d tasted so good.
Slowly, awareness crept in, like fog lifting from his brain. Warmth pressed against his back, and something solid supported his head, which definitely wasn’t his lumpy pillow. An arm lay trapped beneath him, heavy and muscled, fingers curled loosely near his ribs.
Oh hell. Darcy was using someone as his pillow. But who? Things were fuzzy after he’d left the bar. He’d walked down the hallway, but…
Carefully turning his head, he found Luca’s face inches away, dark lashes resting against olive skin, lips slightly parted, and stubble shadowing his jaw. Even asleep, the guy looked stupidly handsome.
But what made Darcy’s stomach drop was the fact he was sprawled across the guy’s injured shoulder like a human blanket.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” He scrambled from the bed, nearly face-planting on the hardwood floor. His hands flew over his body, checking frantically. Jeans, check. T-shirt, check. Socks, mysteriously missing but whatever.
Relief flooded through him until he glanced back at Luca’s bare chest. Jesus. All that golden skin stretched over lean muscle, the kind of definition that came from actual work instead of a gym. A thin line of dark hair disappeared beneath the waistband of gray sweats riding low on his hips.
Stop staring, you pervert.
Ripping his gaze away before he did something stupid, like drool, Darcy dug his phone from his back pocket. The screen showed 6:47 AM.
“Crap.” He had thirty minutes to get across town and collect four dogs who would probably drag him through three neighborhoods before noon.
Next to him, the bed creaked. Luca turned over, patting the empty space where Darcy had been sleeping. Those gray eyes opened and locked on him immediately.
“Where are you going?” His voice held a rough edge, the kind that promised dark things in the dead of night and left you aching for every one of them.
Darcy had never heard anything sexier in his life.
“Dogs. Walk.” He cleared his throat, hoping that snapped him out of his daze. He grabbed his shoes from beside the bed, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull one on. “I’m already running behind.”
As hard as Darcy tried to calculate how long it would take to get to Princess Consuela’s house from Sin’s, his brain was too groggy this morning.
“I’ll come with you.” Luca swung his legs over the side of the bed without so much as a wince.
“Are you insane? You got shot yesterday. You should be resting, not walking dogs with the guy who apparently used your injured shoulder as a drool pad all night.” Darcy paused in his shoe-tying.
“Sorry about that, by the way. I don’t usually…
I mean, I’ve never woken up in someone else’s bed before. ”
“Nothing happened, lucerito . I don’t take advantage of drunken men.
” Luca was moving with that same easy confidence he’d shown with the dogs.
No grimacing, no favoring his wounded side.
Just smooth, controlled motion that made Darcy question whether the shooting had actually happened. “And you didn’t hurt my shoulder.”
“You’re not coming with me.” Darcy gestured vaguely at Luca’s torso while trying to ignore how the movement made those abs shift. “You’re injured and...”
“What?”
“Lacking a shirt,” he finished weakly.
With a smirk, Luca made his pecs bounce, chuckling when Darcy squeaked. He had a feeling he was completely hopeless when it came to dog whisperer.