Page 21 of Wicked

Candlewick threads his fingers through mine. “Thank you for coming to bed with me.”

It makes me sad that he has to thank me for that. In a perfect world, I would have taken him to bed the moment we met and bonded to him. There would have been no hesitation, no perception of rejection, no question as to how much I wanted to be with him.

But in a perfect world, I would still be at the compound. I can’t imagine Candlewick at a red wolf compound. The simple way of life there would never be enough for him. He’s too bright and loud, too comfortable with his sexuality. He wouldn’t fit in among the other omega red wolf shifters who are taught to be obedient and selfless.

Is it wrong that I like that about him?

I follow him down the hallway to a room with a four-poster bed and the mirror on the ceiling that Revolver promised.

Candlewick turns to Revolver, who’s standing in the doorway. “That mirror is from your old bedroom.”

Revolver shrugs. “We had to put it somewhere, and Lester has much better mirrors in his room. I mean our room.”

“When did you two bond?” Candlewick asks.

“Um, a couple months after you left,” Revolver says. “It just wasn’t the same without you. I got sick of dealing with rich assholes who thought they were better in bed than they actually were.”

Lester slides his arm along Revolver’s back. “Life has different seasons. That season of your life was over.”

Candlewick stands there, stiff and tense. I’m all too familiar with guilt, and that’s what he’s emanating right now. He feels responsible for Revolver quitting.

“I’m studying to become a pilot now, which I’m really excited about,” Revolver tells him. “It was time to move on. I’m not sure if I would have realized that if you had stayed. I had too much fun with you.”

Candlewick relaxes visibly. “A pilot? That’s badass.”

“Right? Flying is incredible. The best rush in the world.” When Lester glares at him, Revolver kisses his cheek and says, “Except being with you, of course.”

Lester shows us where to find extra blankets and pillows, then they leave us in the bedroom, closing the door behind them. I’ve spent countless nights in rooms not unlike this one. Anne owns several homes across the US, and ever since my house was targeted by human traffickers bent on stopping Anne’s operation, I’ve been living with her.

I don’t mind. I’m not supposed to own anything anyway, so going from room to room without having a permanent place to land has never been a problem. But tonight, I have a selfish wish that I could take Candlewick to my home in upstate New York. It would be wonderful to show him the cabin I built with my own two hands and make love to him in my own bed. It wouldn’t be enough for Candlewick, of course. Nothing about me ever will be. I just wish I could be.

Candlewick kisses me with a tenderness that pushes all my wishes and insecurities away. I allow myself to cup his cheek and close my eyes. When I was younger, I made deals with God sometimes. I’d promise to read my scriptures for an extra fifteen minutes to atone for the impure thoughts I had about the omega who lived next door. I haven’t done that in a long time. I figure I’ve already sinned enough.

But I ask God for this night. In exchange, I’ll trek across Russia in my wolf form in the dead of winter looking for the trafficked kids we think are being hidden there, I’ll donate the nest egg I’ve been saving for my retirement to the sanctuary, I’ll finally ask Anne if we need to hire another dragon shifter because of her bad back, even though I know she’ll hate me for asking the question.

I kiss along Candlewick’s pretty jawline and nuzzle the skin under his ear. He shivers. That little involuntary reaction makes me desperate for more. I suck on his neck, and he arches into it, leaning into my mouth. His skin is salty and soft and smells of heaven. I pull his body to mine and hold him tight enough against me, I can feel his hardness against my hip.

That’s sin right there. All this is sin. I just can’t stop anymore.

I lower my mouth to the crook of his neck where his scent gland is—the place I would bite if my teeth weren’t fake. I suck on that skin, and he whimpers.

“Manny.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. Even though an apology will never be enough. I wish I could go back to my nineteen-year-old self the day before he offered to go on a supply run and tell him to stay home. But I never would have met Candlewick if I hadn’t left. That confuses me. Was I meant to leave the compound? Is that what God is saying?

I suck harder on Candlewick’s skin, and he cries out, rocking his hips against me. The movement brushes against a part of my body no one has come into contact with in twelve years. The thrill of it is almost enough to drown out the insecurity.

I’m a smaller guy in every way. I had to get creative in the pits when I pleased the omegas. I was still able to make them feel good, but it wasn’t as simple for me as it was for Timber.

Candlewick will probably be disappointed. I guess I’m disappointing to him in most ways. Why would my dick be any different?

Then again, if I please him with my mouth, he’ll never have to know.

I nuzzle the crook of his neck and reach for the top button of his shirt. “Can I?”

“Yes,” he whispers, starting on the bottom buttons. He’s faster than I am as we expose slivers of his creamy skin with every button until his shirt is open and he pulls it off. The planes of his chest are smooth and lightly muscled. I take my time staring at the delicate bones of his clavicles and the subtle roundness of his shoulders. He’s like a work of art.

“Could I take a picture of you?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t. I don’t want to forget a single detail of his body.

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