Page 21

A zrael rolled over in the bed and gazed at the ceiling.

Something had woken him up and when he sat up and gazed around the dimly lit room. He spotted Rebel sitting on the other bed browsing through his phone.

“You good?” Rebel asked, glancing over. The man’s hair was a mess of black curls that fell over his forehead.

Azrael nodded and then grimaced when his own hair felt knotted and tangled. He’d gone to bed with it wet and it had dried all crinkly.

“Yeah,” he said, and it came out as a croak, so he cleared his throat and reached for his phone on the nightstand.

Only one message, and it was from Real.

Stay put. I’ll be back.

“Where did Real go?” he asked.

“To take care of Micky.”

“No fucking way. That’s my kill,” Azrael snarled and Rebel placed his phone aside.

“He only wants you safe,” Rebel said.

“No, he’s treating me like a kid.”

Rebel lifted his shoulders with an I don’t know gesture.

“Where’s Crow?” Azrael asked. It was odd to see Rebel without his boyfriend.

“He’s sleeping.” Rebel’s smile was impish. “I wore him out.”

“I’m surprised he sat this one out.”

“Real ordered him to.” Rebel shrugged.

Azrael gently probed at the back of his head and felt the bump. At least he didn’t have the massive headache from before.

A key card beeped at the door, and Real stepped inside, letting the heavy door swing shut.

“That’s my cue, I’m back to my man,” Rebel said, scooting off the other bed. He gave Azrael a jaunty wave and slid past Real to the door.

“Thanks, Rebel,” Real said, and the younger man nodded before walking out.

The silence in the room rang in Azrael’s ears. He wanted to say something, anything, but what was there left to say?

He didn’t want to talk about the job he’d fucked up. He didn’t want to rage at Real to stop treating him like a kid.

But mostly, he didn’t want to talk about the way he’d given himself to Real only to have the man walk away.

All of that was embarrassing.

“I can go back to my own room,” Azrael said, lifting the comforter from his lap.

“No, you can’t. This is the only room left other than the one Dave’s in. I told him to save the money.”

“But what about the guys? Don’t they need rooms?”

“They have rented somewhere other than the Hyatt House. This hotel is for family members of patients at the hospital.”

“Oh.”

The whole conversation felt stilted to him, and Azrael grew increasingly uncomfortable. Then he forgot to breathe when Real walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed just beside him. He could feel the pressure of the man’s thigh through the comforter against his leg.

“Did you kill Micky?”

“No, he got away.” Real shook his head slightly. “How are you feeling?”

The man changed the subject before he could drill him with questions.

Azrael scowled. “I’m fine.”

“How’s the head?” Real stretched out one hand toward his head, but Azrael jerked just out of reach.

Their eyes met, clashed, and held. Real’s gaze turned irritated.

Azrael didn’t give a shit…he had to hold onto his glare and anger because if he let it go, then he would crawl into Real’s lap and try to take his cock deep. He would break down, and if he did that, it would probably break him when Real walked away again.

And his warrior would walk away. Of that, he had no doubts. They hadn’t settled anything between them, so there wasn’t any reason to stay.

Perhaps now was the time to bring up the hero worship?

Real’s gray-blue eyes glittered in the dim lighting, and the man again reached a hand out toward his hair.

This time, Azrael knocked it away, and he wasn’t gentle about it.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

There! That should nip this shit right now.

Real’s eyes changed from irritated to stunned.

Azrael swallowed and tipped his chin up, keeping his anger-filled eyes on Real.

He should have known that Real wouldn’t back down, but he was unprepared when Real caught the back of his neck and lifted him up and out of the covers like he was a doll.

Not that he minded being manhandled. But now… it was the principle of the thing.

The audacity!

The nerve!

His extensive reading in Dave’s library served him well.

Azrael sank his fingers into the hair at the top of Real’s head and gripped hard. He pulled, making it hurt.

He ended up squeaking when he was lifted into Real’s lap with no effort at all on the man’s part.

Hadn’t Real been going to check the knot on his head? Did he need to sit on the man’s lap to have that done?

Their faces were mere inches apart at this point.

Azrael snapped his teeth in Real’s face for emphasis.

It was a silent fuck you and Real’s gaze darkened.

It became hot and sultry and oh so very hungry.

Like an animal that had caught its prey.

And who was he kidding, Azrael thought…He would gladly be Real’s next meal.

Fuck talking.

Screw talking about Micky. Screw talking about Real’s bad habit of fucking and running.

And to hell with hashing out about the very stupid hero worship idea Real had in his head.

Right now, Azrael wanted nothing more than this man.

Real belonged to him.

Real’s fingers gently combed through his tangled hair, searching and finding the knot at the back of his head.

The air rushed out of Azrael’s lungs with a hitch at the slight sting, and Real’s gaze zoomed in on his mouth. Azrael darted his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, and Real made a low guttural sound in the back of his throat.

Seconds later, Real crushed his mouth down on his, and Azrael was gone.

Later, they would talk.

Later, they would settle things.

But that would have to be much, much later.