Page 9 of Never Say Die
“You are tonight,” Aiden said, and kissed Thomas. Made his intentions clear. Focused on the odd fit of their lips—not quite right, but good enough. “C’mon, let me make it up to you.”
“This stays between us,” Thomas said under his breath.
“Obviously.”
“Your place is closer.”
Aiden had imagined going to his knees in a bathroom stall or propping his back against a dumpster. Literally, anything to avoid his bed. But if Thomas couldn’t stomach the idea of taking Aiden to his fancy townhouse, he definitely didn’t have the courage to fuck him in public. Desperation panged annoyingly in his chest. “I’ll call a Lyft,” he said, and cleared his throat. “It’s a poor man’s palace. Don’t expect much.”
Thomas gnawed on his fingernail. “How ‘bout one more for the road?”
Whiskey burned Aiden’s throat.
In the Lyft, Thomas put space between them. His bloodshot eyes flicked from Aiden to the window, and Aiden knew that look, thewhat am I doinglook. He’d seen it on dancefloors when mediocre men pushed between his legs, feeling for familiarity they wouldn’t find. Seen curiosity spark and die as inexperienced lips slid around his strap. Thomas was going through a similar, secret dilemma, and Aiden had no patience for it.
“You did good out there tonight,” Aiden said, resting his cheek on the seat.
“You did, too.” Thomas fiddled with his phone. He glanced at Aiden, watching him carefully.
Tension ratcheted, as if Thomas had decided on something. He didn’t make a move, but he breathed a little deeper, looked a little longer. The car rolled to a stop in the alley next to Papa’s Pizzeria, and the Lyft driver offered a half-heartedgoodnightbefore tapping on his docked phone and backing into the street.
Alcohol turned Aiden syrupy and warm. He leaned into the chipped railing on the stairs, accepted Thomas’s hands on his waist, turning him, and Thomas’s mouth prying at his lips. Aiden stared at the streetlamp on the adjacent sidewalk, thinking of the cliff and Shay Bennett. Thomas kissed aggressively, like he had a point to prove. He ran his palms along Aiden’s stomach. Pushed his hand into Aiden’s jeans. Pressed too hard. Rubbed too fast.Good, Aiden thought. He needed Thomas to be familiar and easy, rough and uncomplicated. Aiden fumbled with the doorknob, tugging Thomas with him until his back smacked the wall next to the bathroom.
Aiden unbuckled Thomas’s studded belt and flicked open the button on his jeans.
“Give me a second,” Thomas said. He stepped away, backing toward the bathroom. “Got anything to drink?”
Aiden smirked.Go get yourself hard,he wanted to say.Go convince yourself. “I’ll find something.”
Thomas disappeared into the bathroom. Aiden fixed his eyes on the ceiling.Do it.He inhaled.Don’t do it. Kicked off his boots and tipped as he walked, stepping through a puddle on the tile.Do it.Turned into the kitchen.Don’t do it.Traffic quieted outside the window. The air thickened and went still. In the bathroom, the sink ran. Closer, Aiden noticed the faint sound of water splattering on the floor.
Paranoia ratcheted. Drunken thoughts sharpened too quickly, making the space whirl and the walls bow. Fear grew like lichen in his lungs, halting each breath. He wanted to know, without a shred of doubt, that a panic attack was the culprit, but panic didn’t feel animalistic. Panic didn’t feel watched. Aiden stared at the tile beneath his feet, tracked a small, single drip, splitting the darkness, and felt soggy breath on his cheek. Dread rippled from the ever-tightening knot tied around his sternum—a red string connecting him to the shadow standing in his kitchen.
A wet hand took Aiden by the throat. Slippery fingers latched beneath his jaw, slamming him hard against the wall. Aiden opened his eyes as wide as he could. His feet scrabbled, heels lifted, toes reaching for purchase on the floor. “Shay,” he choked out, because it was all he could manage. To look at him. To say his name. “Shay.” He clawed at Shay’s salty hand, dug his fingernails into the veins bulging on his wrist.
Shay Bennett carried the sea with him. Blonde hair clung to his pale forehead, and the clothes he’d worn were soaked through, peppered with sand and seaweed. Black pits replaced his eyes—whites gone, all pupil, no color. Dark fissures spiderwebbed the thin skin around his lashes, seeping outward, deeming him dead and alive, resurrected and replaced, something worse than before. He released Aiden’s neck and grabbed his foundering hands, forcing them to the wall beside his head.
Aiden whimpered.He’s alive,he thought, relieved, and a second later,he’s going to kill me. He didn’t turn away when Shay leaned closer. Didn’t close his eyes or ask for forgiveness or beg. He trembled, like a little bitch, and held his breath.
Shay’s mouth dusted his ear. “You did this,” he said. A thousand different voices lived inside his own—a crocodile snapping, metal clashing—something predatory and perfectly designed. His grip tightened. Aiden’s pulse drummed on his palms.
“You’re alive,” Aiden whispered. It was all he could muster, those two words and his name on a gasp. “Shay, you’realive.”
Shay rested his forehead against Aiden’s temple. Breath gusted from him in urgent, painful puffs. He squeezed Aiden’s wrists hard. So,sohard. Aiden flexed against him.I’m alive. We’re alive. You’re alive.Terror rang in his bones, spurred by Shay’s strange eyes and hellish voice. He wanted to bring them closer. To hold him. To take Shay’s face in his hands and sayhow is this possibleandI hate youandyou’re back, thank God you’re back.Shay’s stomach jumped on another heaving breath. His lips touched the underside of Aiden’s jaw, feathered along the dip where his shoulder met his throat. Teeth scraped, sharp in all the wrong places, and Aiden wished he hadn’t closed his eyes, wished he hadn’t gasped again, wished he hadn’t craned into the promise of Shay’s mouth latched around that vulnerable place.
Do it. Don’t do it.
The bathroom light clicked. Thirty seconds with Shay was all it took for Aiden to forget about Thomas. He sealed his spine to the wall.Run. The word was right there, sitting pretty on the tip of his tongue.Run. Get out. Go.But he couldn’t speak. He squirmed, surging against Shay as Thomas sighed and appeared in the hallway.
“Look, Aiden. This might not be veryPCof me, but. . .” Thomas trailed off. He tilted his head, lips parted. “Shit, Shay. What’re you doing here? I didn’t sign up for some weird, hate-sex threesome.”
Oh, no.Ice ran from Aiden’s nape to his ankles.
Shay laughed. “Seriously?” he whispered, tempering a rough, rumbling growl. He snapped his teeth close to Aiden’s cheek. “Him?”
Adrenaline pushed his heartbeat into overdrive. He’d never understood witchcraft or magic or hauntings. Unlike newlyweds who found poltergeists in their freshly mortgaged homes or catschasing invisible somethings in empty bedrooms, he had never witnessed anything, never predicted anything, never staked his claim on anything except a ritual gone wrong. But that night, death stirred in his blood and he knew a reaper waited to collect. Shay whipped toward Thomas. In the dark, his eyes glinted. He breathed hard—big, rattling inhales—and let Aiden go.
Shay crossed the room in a single step and sealed his hand over Thomas’s mouth. Fingers left divots in Thomas’s skin, muffling a surprised shout. Without a shred of exertion, Shay bent him backward. Aiden caught himself on the fridge and slid to the tile, holding his knees to his chest. Thomas hit the floor and reached for him. His hand smacked a wet footprint, legs flailing, eyes bulged and helpless. Aiden mouthedI’m sorry, because he couldn’t speak, and watched Shay tear into Thomas’s throat. A pitchy yelp burst from him. Then a terriblepop, like stepping on branches. Shay hummed through a gentle, satisfied moan as his teeth framed Thomas’s jugular. Aiden was petrified. Too afraid to reach for his phone. Too afriad to saystop, please, Shay, stop. He became as small as possible and stared at the carnage on his kitchen floor, blood snaking into the grout, spreading like spilled wine. Shay gnashed flesh between his teeth, pulled skin back, broke ribs open, clawed through Thomas’s chest until he found the quiet, red muscle suspended there, and brought the heart to his mouth. Shay met his eyes as he crouched over Thomas’s limp form, a bloodstained monstrosity wearing the skin of someone Aiden had loved and lost.
