More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Cooper had garbled his assurance that he would try, though God knew if that’s what came out. During the night the wine had grown fur, birthed a litter and dug out a nice little two-story burrow between his mouth and the back of his skull.
Cooper cleared his throat, embarrassed at the tingle of heat that raced down his body. Had it really been so long that he was huffing on some guy like a train car pervert? Christ, Dayton, pull it together.
He glanced to the side and was surprised to catch the man still looking at him. Cooper made a startled, nervous sort of noise that was something between an exhale and an awkward laugh, and came out like a honking sound. Okay, say anything but that.
The air conditioner was on low and the cool air seemed to sharpen the scents in the car. The leather seats, the tantalizing coffee in the cup holder, Park’s own smell of spring and fresh linen. Mud and detergent, Cooper corrected himself. It was going to be a long car ride.
“No, no,” Cooper said. “You’re right. That would be stupid. And regardless of everything else, you’re obviously not stupid.” “Just when I think you can’t get any sweeter, Special Agent Cooper Dayton, you add another coat of sugar,” Park said dryly.
“Sure,” Cooper said. Again, soothing, agreeing. “I know what it’s like at that age.” Unless Robbie was getting wine-drunk over his textbooks and blowing his “straight” roommate, Cooper did not in fact know what it was like at that age, but Mrs. Gould relaxed a little.
Cooper shook his head, stood and turned the radio off. And some people thought full disclosure of wolves’ existence was a good idea. The world was struggling to protect marginalized peoples from ignorance, hate and fear as it was. How would the hysterical masses ever accept werewolves who could legitimately hurt them?
“Any sign he bought a TV or computer?” “Nope. Just gym equipment and lots of hunting gear. Why?” “I couldn’t find either in the house. But he’s got DVDs. That’s weird, isn’t it?” “Maybe he watched them at a friend’s.” “Sluts R Us? What kind of aperitifs do you serve with that?” “Pigs in a blanket?” Park suggested with a blank face.
Cooper shook his head. He felt Park’s arm flex under his hand and, being the professional sleuth that he was, realized he was still holding on to Park’s arm.
“You okay over there?” “‘Course. Just thinking.” “Well, you have the angriest thinking face I’ve ever seen.” Park laughed softly. “Want to share with the class?” Yeah, will you get dinner with me? He said, “Funny. You don’t strike me as a big show-and-tell type.” Park raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary, Agent Dayton, there are lots of things I want to show and tell you.”
He knew he’d gone too far the moment the words were out of his mouth. Knew it even as he was saying it but couldn’t pull back. Park had been a fine partner. A good partner. If anything, his unflappable amiability had made Cooper feel too comfortable, drawing him closer and relaxing his tensions like a campfire on a cold night. But something about Park calling him lonely had cut deeper than he thought possible, and like an animal with his back against the wall, he’d wanted to fling the same back in his face.
Cooper sat back on the edge of the bed and stared at the mirror hanging over the dresser. Everything about him looked crumpled. His clothes, his hair, his skin, his face, his spirit.
Cooper continued and his voice was a little gruff. He wasn’t good at apologizing. People in his family usually just fought and started speaking again when they needed something, grudges carefully filed away to resume later.
“You really know how to butter a guy up, Dayton.” “Oh, get over yourself. It wasn’t that big a deal. What are you expecting, that I get on my knees and beg?” Park tilted his head. Now the look in his eyes was not soft at all. They flicked down to Cooper’s mouth and then back up.
Unless Park put it in his report. Between inappropriately staring at my lips and lashing out for no reason, Agent Dayton accused a local officer of abduction and assault, conclusively proving himself unfit for duty and his paranoia out of control. Christ.
“No, I said anyone. I meant anyone,” Cooper said a little tersely. First the comments about Whittaker and now this. He wasn’t used to people viewing him as a bigot. Or maybe he just hadn’t been forced to notice before.
“C’mon, you bastard. Show me your super hearing. Asshole Park. Huge alpha Park. Big, strong, muscular Park. Amazing Ass Park. Pretty Eyes Park.”
“Um, I don’t think I’ve ever been this grateful for having a fat ass?” Park chuckled softly. “It is a great ass.” Whether he was agreeing to its usefulness in that moment or saying it had other...aesthetic qualities, Cooper wasn’t sure. But his surprise at the comment distracted him from the aching in his back for one or two precious milliseconds. Had Park checked him out? Was he interested in him sexually? Was this a reasonable time to be thinking about it? Probably not seemed to cover all three.
“Dayton,” Park grunted from above. “Are you stuck on something?” “No,” Cooper said, looking at his foot guiltily. The crevice was wide enough now that the moment he relaxed the tension in his body he would be hanging freely, relying entirely on the rope. And on Park. “Are you...trying to help?” Park asked, diplomatically. A polite way to ask if he was clinging to the rock because he didn’t trust Park to support him.
“Hey,” Park said. “Oliver.” “What?” Cooper’s voice sounded huskier than usual. Maybe due to breathing the foul air of the crevice. Maybe not. “My name’s Oliver. Though if you want to call me Pretty Eyes Park again, I promise I’ll still come running.”
Every time he managed to catch Park’s eye, Park would immediately look away, and when Cooper tried to get him alone he’d scamper off. Or whatever the Park equivalent of scamper was. Gracefully glide elsewhere.
Cooper watched him walk toward the house and get flagged down by a uniform who seemed to ask a question. Park turned and pointed at Cooper. Arrest that man if he tries to talk to me again. Sexual harassment. Hand-sucking with an intent to distribute.
Cooper grabbed his gun out of the holster, quickly checked the barrel, turned off the safety and stood by the door. He took a steadying breath, blinked the last grub of sleep out of his eyes and yelled, “Who’s there?” The pounding stopped. “If this is you trying to make some kind of three little pigs joke right now, I am going to smack you right in your chinny-chin-chin, Dayton.”
“It’s healthy to at least once a day. Otherwise the tension can build and the need can just...pop up at the most inconvenient times. You know how that is.” Park smiled and then, outrageously in Cooper’s tipsy opinion, he winked. It was good to know one of them had retained fine motor skills. Cooper was struggling to swallow.
“Never mind. I don’t want to see it.” “Because it disgusts you?” He shook his head very quickly. “Of course it’s not disgusting. It’s incredible. But my partner says you can’t take your eyes off a shift even if your life depended on it, and I already look at you way too much.”
Cooper almost said something to Park but couldn’t bring himself to speak. The silence between them felt almost physical, like a coiled spring waiting for release. He could feel Park looking at him. Watching, always watching. So attentive. But never expectant. It was...freeing.
“Did you know,” Park said, nibbling a trail up Cooper’s neck, “that as opposed as I am to being someone’s dirty little secret, knowing that I’m going to take you tonight right under his bigoted nose makes me hard enough to drill through the wall?”
“Good. You feel so good,” Park said. Well, la-di-fucking-da for him. But Cooper felt like he was being unwound and stretched thin while electric wires of pleasure were pulled taut from his toes to the tip of his dick and up his spine. It was too much. Too intense.
Embarrassed, Cooper jerked away and snapped, “Didn’t peg you for the clingy type, Park.” “You haven’t pegged me yet at all,” Park replied cheekily, and tugged Cooper back down, pushing his head back to his chest and reaching down to hitch Cooper’s leg up over him.
“All right, what’s your friend look like?” “Uh, in his thirties, dark brown hair, brown eyes, a bit taller than me. Very, ah, fit.” Unbelievably strong. A disarmingly vulnerable smile. Gorgeous. Sweet. Clever.
Harris was insane. That was the real danger of killing. Murder was like getting a tattoo. The first one you carefully ask yourself why; each one after you ask yourself why not?
“Why wouldn’t I want to work with you?” “Why would you?” Cooper asked bluntly. “Since we first met, I’ve done nothing but stick my foot in my mouth and my head up my ass.” “Very flexible of you. Good trait in a partner.”
He thought of all those stupid little digs Jefferson would make about werewolves. He’d just ignore them, because what was the harm of some off-color comments if that was how Jefferson let off stress? Plenty of harm.
