Page 21 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Chapter 21

Wren

All the bad shit I’d gone through in my life, losing my dad, dealing with the scar and hiding, paled in comparison to what Tate had gone through. Yeah, some might say losing a parent so young was pretty dang shitty, but Tate having one who mistreated him was worse than not having one at all in my book.

When he’d finally quieted after unloading his soul, I took him home to a sleeping house. He’d mumbled a thanks as I stripped him to his boxers and put him to bed. The next day, I’d worried it’d be weird between us. You know, that regret over spilling the tea, but actually, he was in a much better mood.

“I have these nightmares,” he said on the patio as he enjoyed his morning smoke.

“I’ve heard them,” I said.

He blinked, then nodded. “Didn’t have one last night.”

“A good sign.”

He snickered, sucked on his cigarette, and nodded. “Guess you know it all now.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze as he continued. “Still think you want me?”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “If you were trying to run me off, it didn’t work. I’m stubborn like that.”

He snuffed out his cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke into the air. “Undeniably.”

I caught his hand in mine when he made to lean back as well. He stared at our joined fingers, then finally, finally , looked at me.

“I like you, Tate, and your past doesn’t change that. I know you’re confused about some of it, and hurt, and I’m not gonna forget that. I hate it, like, really fuckin’ hate it, but I’m glad you told me.”

“Me too,” he whispered. “I’ve never said any of that to anyone.” He glanced back at our hands and rubbed his thumb over one of my knuckles. “It didn’t fix anything, but I feel better today. Lighter.”

I nodded once with a quick snap. “Know what you mean.”

“I’m not really sure I know what being someone’s boyfriend means, but I want to if you still do.”

Boyfriend wasn’t really anything I had experience with either, so this would be a learning experience for both of us. I supposed it was only a label on what we were already doing. I didn’t need to be his anything to love him like I did, and I was convinced that was what this was. Like wasn’t strong enough. I liked a lot of things, and what I felt for Tate, there was nothing else to compare it to.

Every knife wound, every scar, every gash in his soul he’d bared last night had pierced mine and left me raw and bloody. I didn’t think I could feel such hate, such rage, such misery, and heartache over someone I only liked . No, with every stone I turned over, I found more and more to love about him. Even the demons. He saw them as hands holding him down, clawing their way into his bones, but I saw them as more he fought through, more he broke free of. He was still working through the shit, but he was working through it in his own way. Amazing. Tate was just amazing.

“Yeah.” I grinned and pulled him toward me by the hand I held. “Yeah, I still do.”

His lips tasted of burnt tea, something I never thought I’d like, but on him, I did.

Tate didn’t linger but huffed a laugh as he leaned back. “What would your momma think if she saw you kissing your stepbrother?”

Good point. “We should tell them, about us.” I stood and stretched, then smiled when I caught him staring. Something else I never thought I’d like. Tate gawked, just as much as he ever had, and I liked—no loved —his eyes on me.

“After the new year?” he asked.

“Why wait?”

Tate stood, putting us closer together. “Because I’ve never shared the holidays with a family like this. If she hates the idea, I don’t want to ruin any of that.”

I shrugged, but his words stuck with me. Not just the sadness of all the things Tate had missed out on growing up but also wondering how Momma would take the news. No matter how much I convinced myself she wouldn’t care that I was gay, I wouldn’t know for sure until it came out. But it wasn’t as easy as that either. Tate and I were brothers of a sort. I wasn’t sure any parent, no matter how open-minded, would be thrilled to hear that.

We stayed mellow and close to home for the rest of the weekend, but when we got home after school on Monday, Tate stopped me from getting out of the truck.

“What?” I asked but hadn’t needed to since Tate promptly tugged me closer and threw a leg over my lap.

“This kind of got off course when I tried it the other day,” he said.

The night of homecoming. The night he told me about his nightmare past.

Tate kissed my neck, then my jaw. I tilted my face to his until we could kiss each other’s mouths. Positioned as we were, the difficulty was real, which had us laughing.

“You need a bigger truck,” he complained.

I shook my head. “We’ll make it work.”

And I certainly did. I wrapped around him and twisted us until he was lying on his back and I was over him.

“You good?” I asked and didn’t wait for him to finish nodding before I devoured his mouth.

It didn’t take long for us to get breathless and uncomfortable. I sat back as Tate panted and wiped a hand down his face.

“Fucking hell. Does boyfriend come with any ground rules?” he asked.

“Like what?” I managed between gulps of air.

He lowered his hands and palmed himself over his jeans. I ate up every second of it.

“Do we get to fuck?”

I coughed on air, then laughed. “Uh. Yeah, I mean, sure?”

He chuckled, then sat up. “I’m serious. Do I get to do whatever I want to you?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not instilling a lot of confidence here.”

“Well, fuck, Tate. I dunno. I’ve never been a boyfriend or done anything outside of this.” I waved a hand between us. “So yeah? I mean, I want to, but do we gotta prep or some shit?”

Tate rolled his eyes. “Ahh, Wren. Okay.” He reached for his backpack, which had been pushed to the floor. “You’ve got some homework to do, and by homework, I mean sex research, and by that, I mean I’ll be sending you shit to read.”

“Fine.” Who didn’t love homework?

We got out of the truck. Thankfully, Momma wasn’t home yet to catch the wood we were sporting.

That night and for another week, Tate kept to his word and sent me all kinds of articles and sites to check out. Porn was not a good teacher, so I gobbled every word, every tip, every right way and wrong way to do things. He sent the scary shit first. Like, if not done correctly, we could really hurt each other, but then came the fun stuff. I now knew more about my own body than health class had ever taught me and that there was more to fucking than anal sex. Like, fun shit.

Tate never asked if I read the things he sent. After the articles stopped, after I’d had time to digest it all and come to terms with hell-yeah-sign-me-up-for-getting-freaky, I stopped at a Walgreens on the way home from school. Tate followed me in without questioning my motives. I grabbed a Coke and a bag of gummy Life Savers, then went on the hunt for lube.

I stopped in front of the shelves and picked one at random—like I knew what I was doing—and held it up for him to see. “Because this is happening.”

Tate glanced between me and the bottle several times, then snatched it out of my hand and sat it back on the shelf. I was about to protest, but he picked up a different bottle, twice as big, with a different logo on it.

“This one,” he said.

I grabbed another of the same kind off the shelf. “Two of them, then.”

Tate bit his lip, then doubled over laughing. “Okay. Okay.” He backed up, never taking his brilliant smile off me, and cocked his head at the hooks full of condoms, brows raised in question.

“I’m obviously out of my depth here. Should we?” I asked.

“I got tested. I’m clean.”

I lowered my brows and cocked my head.

“The weekend of my birthday was the last time, and I got tested before I left New York.” He ducked his head. “You should know. I mean, I’ll get tested again, if you want. I’ll do anything and everything to make you comfortable with my past.”

I gripped his chin and lifted it. “Stop beating yourself up.”

He nodded once, then studied the display, gaze raking over them so quickly before he picked a box.

“Sounds good.” I jerked my head toward the exit.

There was a younger woman behind the counter when we headed for the checkout. She did a double take and sat down her magazine when she saw us. My cheeks were burning from embarrassment, all my bold intentions having deflated with my dick at having a random third party privy to what I was buying.

Her smile never faltered, and I nearly thanked her for not acting like we were pariahs. Then I wondered if she thought I was getting it for a date and not the man beside me. Maybe I should’ve held Tate’s hand or smiled at him in front of her. Jesus, like I didn’t have enough going on in my head. It wasn’t just the world judging me. Apparently, I was doing it too.

That night at dinner, Momma asked about the Halloween party at Cody’s that weekend and tried convincing us to wear costumes. I told her it wasn’t that kind of party, but she and Tate rambled on about ideas for it anyway. There was no way in hell I was getting dressed up, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at their imaginations.

Saturday arrived. Since we’d decided to make this our first official date as boyfriends, we stayed away from each other most of the afternoon and got ready without sharing any space. At nine, our agreed-upon time, I came out of my room wearing the best thing I had to offer. Thank God for the internet. I searched for date clothes and went with a black button-down, rolling the sleeves to bare a little of my forearms. My jeans were artfully ripped from wear and tear, and my boots were clean.

Tate stepped out his door like the fucking god he was in low-slung leather pants and a sheer silver shirt that sparkled. My jaw hit the floor, along with my dick, because, of course, it got hard at the sight of him. His wavy hair fell over his eyes, which were rimmed in fucking dark eyeliner and, holy shit, glitter? Jesus.

“Uh …” Yeah, I wasn’t winning in the conversation department tonight.

Tate turned a circle, showing off. I glanced down at myself, completely outmatched in every fucking way. Honestly, though, had I access to those kinds of clothes, I probably would have gone with what I had on anyway.

“You can’t wear that downstairs,” I finally managed some sense to say.

Tate ducked into his room and came out zipping a hoodie. He still had on the leather pants, but it was for a party, after all. He ditched the hoodie as soon as we left.

Cars and trucks lined the clearing near Cody’s house. His parties were always a success for whatever reason. Lots of kids at our school had big houses and pools or lived near the lake, but Cody’s never failed to have a huge turnout. And I, like everyone else, found myself heading to my fair share over the years, guilted or intentional.

I parked and tried not to obsess—more than I already had—over Tate as we walked toward the house. His getup was eye-catching for sure, and people complimented him as much as they asked who he was dressed as. He answered rock star without hesitation, and everyone agreed he fit the role well. A few others had on costumes, but a lot were in normal clothes like me.

The nights had cooled considerably this late in the year, but that didn’t stop anyone from enjoying Cody’s patio. The pool was covered for the season, but the hot tub wasn’t. Currently, the thing was overflowing with arms and legs and laughter.

Sienna was here somewhere, and speak of the devil …

“Tate. Holy shit, you look amazin’.” Sienna rushed us, with Alex trailing behind her like a puppy. “I’ve got to get some pictures.”

Tate glanced at me.

I smirked to calm that deer-in-headlights expression on his face. “Have fun.”

Tate chewed on his bottom lip. “Okay. Maybe a few.”

“Yeah. Sure. A few hundred.” Sienna nodded as she pulled him away. “Got it.”

“I just don’t get what she sees in him,” Alex said once they were across the patio.

I only shrugged in answer, not willing to get into it with him. Coming to Tate’s defense would likely lead to me saying too much, being too obvious. Tate wouldn’t care, but I wasn’t ready to come out. Not here and not now.

Alex and I stood near each other for a few minutes, not saying much other than laughing and commenting when one of our classmates did something stupid. It used to not feel so strained between us. Alex was a far cry from being obnoxious like Spencer and his crew, but this thing he had against Tate had me backing off without intending to. I wasn’t upset over it either.

Eventually, Alex left to chat with his football buddies. I scanned the faces around me, searching for one with dark-rimmed eyes and glitter. I didn’t find him or Sienna.

“Wren.”

I glanced to my right as Cal turned with unsteady movements. He slung an arm around my shoulders, which I was completely unprepared for, making me stumble under his weight. I had a couple of inches on him, but being the end of football season, he was beefed up and stocky.

“Whoa,” I laughed.

“Whoa. Whoa,” he parroted with a lazy grin and glazed eyes. “Wren, how come we don’t hang out more? You’re cool.” He gestured at me aggressively, and I was very glad the cup in his hand was empty. “I’m cool. It makes sense.”

“You’re drunk,” I said.

Cal peered hard into the red Solo. “Yeah, but still cool. Hey.” He went right into a new thought as I laughed. “Were you late getting here? I didn’t see you until now.”

“Were you lookin’?”

Cal laughed. Though obviously drunk, his smile was bright and—nice. The bloodshot red of his eyes made the light blue stand out to a supernatural degree. Cal was good-looking. The kind of good-looking even straight guys could admit to. Tan, with surfer-blond hair and a good attitude that people saw without even knowing him.

“Maybe, bruh. Maybe,” he said and tipped to one side.

I grabbed onto his waist to right him, then backed off as if he were a snake. This was shaping up to be more than I wanted or needed. Cal was straight, and perhaps a bi-curious drunk, but none of that was my concern. Not anymore. This time last year, or hell, even four months ago, I would’ve been elated to have Cal Winters hang all over me, chatting me up, even knowing it couldn’t go any further.

“You need another?” I gestured at his empty drink. The white lining of it was stained an orangey red. No doubt one of these tables had bowls of hunch punch.

“You buying me a drink?” He winked.

Okay. Yeah. Cal was druuuunk.

“Come on. Let’s get you a drink and a girl.” I removed his arm from my shoulders, then had to steady him once again. With a hand on his elbow—very innocent contact here—I directed us toward the coolers full of sodas and water.

“Pffft. These girls suck.” He slurred. “Some of them’re better’n others.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that.”

“Bah! They know it. Hey, so you and your stepbrother seem pretty close. He a cool guy, then?”

Just how much had Cal paid attention to me that I never knew about? “Uh, yeah. Tate’s great. He’s settled in pretty good.” That wasn’t too much, right?

“Tight.” Cal smiled wide, but before he could say more, Sasha, one of the cheerleaders, bounced to his side, effectively distracting him so I didn’t have to find a way out.

Sasha didn’t seem to mind one bit when Cal threw his arm around her and grinned. The two of them were deep in conversation within seconds, and I walked off, scanning the crowd again for Tate.

Tate was nowhere to be seen outside, but I found him in the house, leaned against a corner near the front door, eyes darting between Sienna and her friends. At first glance, he was a part of the conversation, but when his gaze lifted and caught mine across the room, a tide of relief spilled over him. Mid-laugh, they didn’t seem to notice when he slipped away and headed for me. We were on the same page.

For the rest of the night, we didn’t leave each other’s side. I had one beer. He had water. The party was still raging when we left well after midnight. My jaw cracked as I yawned all the way home.

At the top of the stairs on the second floor, I hugged Tate, then kissed him. “Thanks for the date,” I said.

“Did we do it right?”

“Beats the hell out of me.”

We snickered, then shushed each other. After another chaste kiss, I turned him around, gave him a tiny push, then softly swatted his ass. He tossed me a grin over his shoulder, and I fell into bed with a huge smile.

Sunday morning, I slept in and took a shower after rolling out of bed. I cracked the bathroom door afterward to let the steam out so I could see myself to shave. So far, my face hadn’t reached full beard, just spotty patches with spikey bristles a little darker than the hair on my head.

“Let me?”

Towel around my hips, leaned over slightly with my scarred cheek facing the mirror, I tracked Tate in the reflection as he came up behind me and took the razor out of my hand. I’d never said anything to him about the issues I had with shaving around the scar.

Sam had bought me a really nice shaving kit a year ago. He’d sat me down and taught me about skin care before and after the razor touched my face or neck. I was glad he had, or I’d have been a cut-up mess. Around the scar, though, I completely freaked out. My hand shook, and my jaw tightened.

Tate took the razor from my hand and turned me so I couldn’t see what he was doing in the mirror. Then his hands were on me, and I didn’t care what he was doing. We weren’t talking, and he was focused. I stared at his green eyes, seeing the variations I never had before. The outermost edge was a dark ring, but the inside sparkled like the sun hitting a deep pond. His black lashes were long and fringed on the top like feathers, but the bottom ones were kinda thorny.

Tate’s lips were puffy as if he’d been stung by a bee, but they could stretch wide into that drop-dead gorgeous smile that turned me inside out. Just then, his attention shifted from shaving me to my eyes, and he gave me that very same beautiful smile.

“Rinse.” He pointed at the sink with the razor.

I washed off residual cream as he dried his hands.

“Your staring was distracting and made that harder than it should’ve been,” he said as he patted my cheeks dry.

I shrugged. “So am I.”

Tate lowered his gaze, agonizingly slow as if he knew how it tortured me. Every inch he grazed dragged as heavily as if it were his fingers. My pecs jumped. My arms flexed. My erection twitched in eagerness. The towel was still around my waist, but there was no hiding the lift under it.

He swallowed hard, and then his lips parted.

“Fuck.” It was the only thing I could think of, and it summed up so much.

Tate twirled and rushed for the door. I reached for him, a protest stuttering in my mind, but he clicked the door closed and locked it. The look in his hungry eyes when he turned back around was enough to stop my heart.

“This is happening,” he said, throwing my words back to me as he prowled closer.