Page 20 of How to Hide Your Angel Kid

Pinks puffed out his chest, but it only made his pink, perky nipples stand out. They drew Galent’s attention like tiny stop signs, pointing him down to Pinks’ ribs that showed against his skin, the jut of his hipbones, the V of his hips, and the dark blond curls around his cock.

Pinks cleared his throat loudly, covering his crotch with his hands. “My eyes are up here.”

Galent dragged his gaze back up, catching the way Pinks shivered, a slow flush spreading down his chest.

He was beautiful, really. Burnt-orange eyes that were large and doe-like, freckles on his cheeks, full lips that pouted and begged to be tasted. His hair was short, mostly pink, but his roots were starting to show.

Galent wanted to work him loose; he wanted Pinks pliant and begging for him, ready to take every inch. Pinks’ cum had tasted so damn good, like it belonged in Galent’s mouth all the time.

“I don’t suppose you have a plan.” Pinks narrowed his eyes. “Since we don’t know if the explosion killed that shadow person.”

Galent rubbed his chest—still sticky with whatever the rope net had left on him. The feeling of wrongness was still there. “It’s still alive.”

“Fuck.” Pinks glanced out the window, then cocked his head like he was listening.

Galent listened, too. There were people around, but he couldn’t tell if they were harmless neighbors, or something more sinister.

Pinks shook his head. “No one in the forest.”

“How do you know that? There are several people in the neighborhood.”

Pinks’ smile was wry. “You’ll pick things up pretty fast, if you’re anxious and suspicious of everyone around you. I’ve had a few weeks to learn my neighbors’ movements.”

“That’s remarkable.” When Pinks only shrugged, Galent asked, “How did you get the other howls?”

Pinks scratched his chin sheepishly. “I howled for other wolves to reply.”

Galent blinked. “Different howls meant different things?”

“You don’t know that?” Pinks asked, surprised. “Aren’t you like, really old?”

“No,” Galent said. Not enough to build a vast hoard. Suddenly, that seemed like a great concern. What if his hoard wasn’t big enough for P—for a mate?

Pinks eyed him. “How old are you?”

“Two hundred and thirty eight.”

“That’s‘not old’?” Pinks cried. “I’m twenty-two!”

“The others are a few hundred years old, at least. I think Ace and Raptor’s parents are over a thousand years old.”

“Huh.” Pinks looked Galent up and down. “Anyway, the other wolves are not my pack, but some of them replied when I howled.”

“I’m glad they did,” Galent said truthfully. “I didn’t realize you knew about the flour.”

“I saw it last week on the science channel. Some people were doing experiments with flour explosions. I remember worrying about the flour in the kitchen.”

“As dragonets, I was warned away from the flour in our kitchen,” Galent said with a pang. “My parents would whoop my ass if I even dared to breathe fire near the flour. They’re no longer around.”

“Mine, too.”

They stared at each other; Galent thought he felt things ease a little between them.

“Anyhow, that was some quick thinking,” Galent said, peeling off his questionably-stained shirt for washing. “I was barely in trouble, and you were already there.”

Pinks turned pink enough to match his name, his gaze flicking down Galent’s bare chest and away. “I figured I should keep you around to guard the safehouse. Like a guard dog.”

“Will you let me see you again sometime? As a wolf. You’re beautiful.”

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