Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Zavian sank back into the plush couch, his fingers tightening around the phone as he replayed the conversation with Hendrix in his mind. Regret gnawed at him. Calling Hendrix had felt reckless, like exposing a nerve he’d kept hidden too long. The image of Hendrix—those dark, intense eyes and the unwavering strength in his voice—lingered stubbornly. Why did the lion shifter have to consume every corner of his thoughts?
Zavian dragged a hand down his face, and as his fingers grazed his cheek, he inhaled the faint, comforting scent of roasted coffee wafting through the café. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he was again, returning to the very place he sought solace, yet somehow still without the coffee he came for. The first time, he had left abruptly. The second, he had dropped the cup while evading Melric. Now? Third time’s the charm? Or third strike and I’m out?
The aroma deepened, mingled with a subtle hint of spice that made the air feel almost intoxicating. A shadow fell over him, disrupting his thoughts. Zavian’s eyes lifted to meet Ajax’s gaze.
“On the house.” Ajax set the cup down. “Fair warning. It bites back.”
Zavian’s gaze darted between the steaming cup and the wolf shifter. His jaw clenched, his voice coming out cold and clipped. “I don’t recall inviting you to listen in on my conversation.”
The guy didn’t so much as blink. Instead, he shrugged, tapping his ear with one finger. “Can’t help it. Next time, try the next block over.”
Leaning forward, Zavian narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping to a menacing pitch. “And what, exactly, do you think you heard, wolf?”
The mist came unbidden, curling faintly around Zavian’s head like an instinctive defense. His features briefly contorted demonically. The weight in the air thickened, pressing down like a storm about to break. Anyone would have bolted by now, instincts screaming to retreat.
Anyone but Ajax, apparently.
The wolf shifter snorted, looking Zavian dead in the eyes like he wasn’t remotely impressed. “I don’t do verbatim,” he said, circling a finger in front of his own face with exaggerated laziness. “Also, you might want to get that condition looked at.”
Stunned by the audacity, Zavian froze. For a brief moment, he considered wiping that smirk off Ajax’s face. But instead, his irritation deflated under the sheer absurdity of the moment. This one was either fearless or foolish. Maybe both.
Tilting his head, Zavian studied him like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “You’re walking a dangerous line.”
With a grin, Ajax gestured toward the coffee, his calm demeanor almost infuriating. “It’s a talent.”
Deciding not to take the bait, Zavian picked up the cup. The sharp scent of espresso hit him like a grounding force, clean and simple. He hesitated, the memory of past chaos prickling at the edges of his thoughts. Third strike? Or maybe, just maybe, this time he’d actually get to enjoy it.
As he inhaled deeply, the memory of Hendrix’s voice slipped through the cracks of his mind, impossible to push away. He could almost hear the gravity that had pulled Zavian in, subtle yet undeniable, with a cadence that felt nearly hypnotic and brought a semblance of peace to him.
The grip on the cup tightened. How was it possible to want something so much while instinctively wanting to run away? His lips brushed the rim of the cup, and as the heat seeped through him from that first sip, the rich and dark taste momentarily anchored him.
Ajax dropped into the chair next to him. The man looked completely at ease, like they were old friends instead of whatever this was.
“I guess you’re the equivalent of a bartender,” Zavian deadpanned as he lowered the cup. “Sans the watered-down drinks. Gonna serve a sorry soul needless and unwanted advice?”
“Hard pass since I don’t have a liquor license,” Ajax quipped. “Besides, I shrugged off that weight of responsibility years ago.”
The words struck harder than Zavian expected, slipping under his defenses before he could block them. His gaze flicked to Ajax, and in a blink, the man’s life unfolded before him—images of a pack he’d led, the burdens he’d carried, and the losses that had carved deep grooves into his soul. Zavian saw the choices that had shaped him, the threads of a past that no longer tied him down.
His grip on the cup loosened slightly as he looked down at the swirling liquid, watching the reflection ripple with each subtle movement. “Especially sucks when you were born into it,” he replied, the bitterness threading through each syllable.
The coffee dulled the edge, though, warming him as he took another sip. Hendrix would probably have something annoyingly hopeful to say about all this. Zavian’s lips twitched at the thought before the ache crept back in, dull but present.
Ajax let out a low grunt, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Unbearable, right?” He gestured broadly to encompass the café. “Now I’m all about making the perfect cup of coffee for sorry souls.” The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement as he winked.
Zavian shook his head, a faint chuckle slipping free. “This sorry soul appreciates the effort you put into your craft.” He lifted the cup slightly in a small salute before taking another sip. “Seriously, this really is good.”
“Been called the god of coffee around these parts.” Ajax’s grin could only be described as cocky.
Zavian let out a laugh, sharp and genuine, the sound startling even to himself. “Ah, I see now. Not a bartender serving booze. A barista drawing out the ugly truth one coffee at a time.” He leaned back, still smiling, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.
“For you, that would be five shots of espresso at a time.” Ajax smirked with amusement.
For the first time in what felt like ages, the weight pressing down on Zavian’s chest didn’t seem so crushing. He glanced at Ajax, the man’s presence steadying in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge out loud.
“You know,” he began, his voice softer than before, “I didn’t think I’d find any peace in a place like this.”
The wolf shifter’s eyes glinted with understanding. “Peace isn’t about where you are. It’s about what you’re willing to let in. Sometimes, a good cup of coffee is all you need to find a moment of peace.”
Zavian snorted, swirling the coffee in his cup. “Or maybe peace is a myth people tell themselves when they’ve given up.”
Peace had been an elusive bitch Zavian could never chase down, always slipping from his fingertips whenever he thought he’d found it. After millions of years, he had given up.
Ajax tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “That what you believe? Or is it what you want to think?”
“I could have sworn this was a coffee shop, not a therapist’s office,” Zavian shot back, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He stared into the coffee as if the answer might be floating at the bottom of the cup.
“I’m a man of many talents.” Ajax’s voice was light but teasing. “Admit it. I give good advice.”
Zavian raised a brow, though his lips curved faintly, betraying a hint of amusement. “Is this where you start charging me for unsolicited wisdom?”
Ajax shrugged. “Nah. Consider it a perk of the house brew.”
Zavian mulled it over, letting the quiet settle around them again. The tension in his shoulders loosened a fraction as he took another sip. He wasn’t sure if it was the coffee or Ajax’s maddening ease, but for the first time in far too long, the noise in his head wasn’t so loud.
The wolf shifted in his chair, breaking the silence. “So, what’s your deal with Doc?” Ajax’s grin sharpened, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “You’re not exactly the flowers-and-chocolates type.”
Zavian stiffened, the brief calm threatening to unravel. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”
“Oh, it’s not,” Ajax said breezily, lacing his fingers behind his head. “But you don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d call someone just to chat. Especially not someone like Hendrix.”
Zavian’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to exhale slowly. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for a guy whose claim to fame is coffee. If I were you, I’d stick to your craft.”
“You can kill that nasty fucking tone,” Ajax growled. “And opinions are free. You should try them sometime. Might help loosen you up.”
For a moment, Zavian just stared at him, caught between fury and reluctant amusement. Finally, he shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re infuriating.”
“You’re not exactly blowing rainbows out of your ass,” Ajax replied. “You’re just pissed that I’m chocked full of wisdom.”
The conversation should have ended there, but something in Ajax’s casual confidence tugged at Zavian’s guarded walls. Against his better judgment, he found himself asking, “Do you ever regret it? Walking away?”
The scowl on Ajax’s face dimmed slightly, replaced by a flicker of something harder to read. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But regret doesn’t fix anything. You either own your choices or let them own you.”
Zavian considered this, the weight of the words settling somewhere deep. “Easier said than done.”
“Got that right.” Ajax sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “But ask yourself this. How does it feel when you think of walking away from Hendrix?”
The simplicity of the question caught him off guard, the blunt honesty of it hitting hard. He didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the silence stretch as he finished the last of his coffee.
The thought of walking away from Hendrix… hurt.
Ajax broke the quiet with a low chuckle. “Anyway, if you’re looking for a way to make things right with Doc, you should probably start with not acting like a jackass.”
Zavian shot him a sharp look, but the guy just grinned, completely unbothered. “Friendly advice,” the wolf added, standing and stretching. “Take it or leave it.”
Rolling his eyes, Zavian set the empty cup down on the table. “And here I thought the coffee was the only thing that came with a bite.”
“Hey, I warned you.” Ajax turned toward the counter, pausing when Zavian spoke.
“Do you know what Dr. Baldwin’s favorite drink is?”
* * * *
Hendrix pulled into the driveway then turned off his car. The rumble of the engine faded, leaving the evening oppressively silent. He slumped back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment as exhaustion wrapped around him.
The day had been brutal, dragging him through endless rounds of meetings, seeing patients, and enough stress to drive a lesser man into the ground. His body ached, his head throbbed, and all he wanted was to get inside, strip off his clothes, and collapse. But the thought of stepping into that empty house, with its walls that echoed too much and held too little, gripped him in a way that made breathing feel harder.
The thought of Zavian struck hard, leaving him breathless. That phone call had been unexpectant, occupying most of his thoughts for the rest of the day.
Hendrix’s resolve felt paper-thin in the wake of Zavian’s unexpected call. His mate. The word burned through him, undeniable, as his lion stirred beneath the surface, pacing at the thought of claiming what was theirs.
Dragging a hand over his face, he groaned and shoved the door open. The crunch of gravel under his shoes felt grounding, pulling him out of his thoughts as he moved toward the house. The air was sharp, cool, and carried the faint tang of snow, but he barely noticed it. He was too busy willing himself to focus on anything but the simmering ache that Zavian had planted and left behind.
When he reached the steps, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Hendrix’s pulse kicked hard, the sight of Zavian sending heat surging through his veins. His mate looked sinfully good, the casual lean of his body against the doorframe drawing Hendrix’s gaze like a magnet. Sharp cheekbones, that silky black hair, and the way Zavian’s smirk hinted at trouble had Hendrix wanting to close the distance fast. His lion purred low and deep, satisfied with the sight of what belonged to them.
“Long day?” Zavian’s voice slid through the air, molten and dangerous. The sound settled deep in Hendrix, making him pause.
His gaze flicked to the coffee in his mate’s hand and then back to Zavian. “You could say that.” His tone was carefully neutral, but it took everything in him to keep his intrigue out of his voice. “Is the coffee for me?”
Zavian chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling. “Thought I’d try a different approach this time.” He straightened, stepping away from the doorframe as Hendrix ascended the steps. “My ‘I’m an asshole’ peace offering.”
Hendrix stopped a step away, his body going taut as the air between them thrummed, the unspoken challenge in Zavian’s smirk daring Hendrix to make the first move.
“Does it taste bitter?” The scent of the coffee was rich as it curled into his nose. His lion purred again, louder now, as his thoughts strayed to how Zavian had shown up with no warning and still managed to look damn good doing it.
“And I was told the coffee had a bite.” His voice dropped slightly, just enough to make Hendrix notice. “Though we both know who really does.”
His mate’s words slid through Hendrix, causing him to pause. His lion purred, pressing closer to the surface. Zavian’s presence alone was enough to set his pulse hammering.
Reaching for the cup, his fingers briefly brushed Zavian’s. The touch sent a jolt through him that lingered. The coffee was warm against his palm, but it was nothing compared to the fire Zavian managed to ignite with just a smirk and a few well-placed words.
Hendrix turned and unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. He didn’t look back, but he left the door open, the unspoken invitation heavy in the air. His heartbeat quickened when he heard Zavian’s footsteps behind him, followed by the quiet click of the door closing.
The moment it shut, Hendrix moved. He turned abruptly, crowding Zavian back against the door with a force that was all instinct and no thought. His hand pressed against Zavian’s chest, his body pinning him in place. The cup of coffee slipped from his hand, landing on the floor with a muted thud, but neither of them cared.
“Tell me you didn’t come here just to hand me coffee.” Hendrix’s voice was low, rough, and cutting through the thick silence between them.
For the first time since he’d met Zavian, his mate seemed startled. The usual confidence in his gaze faltered, replaced by something raw and unguarded. But it was gone in an instant, a sly smirk surfacing as he leaned into Hendrix’s hand.
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” The way Zavian’s gaze lingered on him, softer now, almost unsure, dug in with an ache that left him breathless.
The weight of the past brushed against Hendrix like a shadow. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel this way since Michael. But Zavian wasn’t the past. He was here, solid and present, igniting a fire Hendrix thought had long since burned out.
His mouth crashed against Zavian’s in a kiss that was anything but polite. It was raw, rough, a clash of teeth and tongues that spoke of frustration and need.
Though his initial response was slow, Zavian didn’t hesitate for long. His hands shot up, grabbing the front of Hendrix’s shirt and pulled him closer as he kissed him back with just as much fire. The initial hesitation gave way to desire, Zavian’s lips parting under Hendrix’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them.
Coffee lingered on Zavian’s lips, a mix of boldness, bitterness, and fire that made Hendrix’s thoughts blur. His lion snarled its approval, clawing at the edges of his control. Zavian wasn’t just good. He was intoxicating.
He gripped Zavian’s hip, pulling him flush against his body, their breaths merging as the last sliver of space disappeared. The heat of Zavian’s seeped into him, the hard line of his mate’s cock beneath his jeans sending a bolt of need straight to Hendrix’s core, igniting something primal that he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—control.
A low, guttural sound tore from Hendrix’s throat as Zavian’s nails raked lightly against his chest through his shirt. It wasn’t enough. He needed more, needed to feel Zavian surrender completely, needed to take him apart and watch him unravel.
The kiss deepened, slowed, turning into something almost unbearably intimate. His lips moved against Zavian’s, his teeth grazing his bottom lip before pulling back slightly. He kept his forehead pressed against his mate’s, their breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.
“I’m glad you came back.” Hendrix nipped Zavian’s bottom lip then licked away the sting.
“Admit it. You just wanted to kiss me.” Zavian smirked, as if daring him to deny it.
“Cocky asshole,” Hendrix growled before capturing Zavian’s lips again.
“Guess the coffee offering didn’t change me.” Zavian’s voice was breathless but no less teasing.
Hendrix didn’t care, just as long as his mate kept kissing him.