Page 45 of Creep (Vulture Hollow MC #2)

“Funfair,” he agrees, and I lead him away, after a quick nod at Prophet, who monitors the argument with the head of a new girl resting on his shoulder.

I worried about being watched at the rally.

I’ve never been out with a man the way I am with Angel, but it’s so dark and so busy, no one stares as we pass, and half the people are too drunk to care.

While men are discreet at these kind of events, I’ve spent enough years in the shadows to know we’re definitely not the only gays here.

“I’m happy to go most places but the big rides,” I tell Angel as we go through the giant entryway illuminated with multi-colored lightbulbs.

Angel grins and rocks his shoulders. “Oooh, is my big bad wolf afraid of rollercoasters?”

I clear my throat. “No. They just… don’t look safe. Like they could fall apart at any moment.”

He glances at the metal snake towering over us as we close in on the fair, and when it shakes under the weight of a passing wagon, a laugh leaves those pretty pink lips.

“Well, I have too much to lose to die now, right?” And when he squeezes my hand, I’m ready to open my ribcage and offer him everything I am.

“Please don’t die,” I choke out, suddenly desperate to put him back in my cave where he can be safe at all times.

He stills, facing me somewhere between the entrance and the stall offering a chance to win plush toys.

Old pop music is playing in the background, and some girls trade stories that make them all break out in laughter, but all I can see are my Angel’s eyes—so very deep and warm I wish to keep seeing myself in them forever.

“I don’t plan on dying,” he says, rubbing my hand with his thumb.

I don’t know what else to call it. This thing between us is pure magic. Maybe Brigid secretly slipped a love potion into his tea when he visited because it’s hard for me to believe he likes me so much. But here we are, at a funfair, holding hands even after what happened.

I smile and point out a stall with plushie prizes. “Will you let me win one for you?”

I could spend the rest of my life feeding off the bright energy in his smiles, and my chest fills with a warm glow when he pulls my hand. “No one ever won anything for me.”

Now I just know I can’t lose.

I’m a fantastic shot. Which also means I soon find out the toy gun isn’t a particularly accurate tool.

Probably on purpose. But I don’t want to make a scene about it and sour Angel’s joy as he cheers me on.

On the third try, I have enough experience with the wonky gun to win.

My heart melts a little when out of all the plushies, Angel chooses a spider.

Like he wants to let me know I’m welcome, that he’s no longer afraid of monsters.

He names it Giant Friend, ‘to distinguish him from Little Friend’, tells me some funny stories about the spiders he encountered in his basement as a kid, we have hot dogs, and cotton candy, and this is shaping up to be the best night of my life.

It’s getting late by the time we stumble out of the Haunted House, which was so scary we both laughed throughout the very brief ride, pointing out rubber limbs and crude puppets moving around us.

The best thing about the past minute? Angel kissed me while vampires watched, as if he couldn’t wait to have the privacy to put his hands on me.

We’re laughing as we imagine stealing some of the plastic bones spread throughout the ride, but then Angel’s gaze settles on something behind me, and I have to glance over my shoulder to see it too.

There’s a photo booth here, standing right next to the machine spitting out prophecies and a Pokemon-themed claw machine. Like the Three Musketeers, they’re back to back, facing different directions, even though there are no customers charging their way.

“Should we tell Prophet he’s out of a job as aspiring cult leader?” I joke and point out the prophecy machine. I’ve never felt this at ease with anyone.

But Angel gets to his toes to reach my ear. “Make memories with me?” he whispers and pulls me toward the photo booth.

My heart beats faster, going into fight or flight mode. I can’t control it. “I um…” And yet, I follow, because I can’t deny him anything.

Angel grins at me and plucks some cash from his pocket before feeding it to the machine.

Behind the heavy curtain at the door is a single seat, and he nudges me inside.

I settle down without much thought, only to soon have my lap full of him.

This is dangerous territory, because despite the pain in my face and ribs, despite feeling so sorry about Angel’s injuries, I live with this constant need for him, and it becomes stronger when his buttocks press against me like this.

“I don’t have any photos. Only mugshots, and the one on my license,” I choke out before he can press a button.

“I know my aunt is dead, but I was brought up to not be seen, and it feels so… so… I don’t even know how to put it…

but I feel I shouldn’t be seen. Especially not by a camera.

” I can’t even look at the lens. “Now that I’m an adult, I think she might have had a dispute with the authorities over me.

Since they were surprised to find me after…

everything. I was a ghost in her house, and you don’t take photos of ghosts,” I finish on a quiet note, embarrassed to admit any of this, but he already carries so many of my secrets, and I trust him not to betray me.

Angel swallows, his gaze softening when he shifts in my lap so we’re closer, his arm wrapped around my neck as he presses his cheek to mine. I don’t think I deserve him, but who am I to tell him what he should want?

“But I want you to be seen. By me, by all our friends…” he says, stroking my cheek. “You don’t have a photo on the wall in the canteen.”

Ah, he notices everything. “Why? I’m…” How to even express these depths of my soul to him. “I’m a stain. Something to be erased if seen,” I paraphrase what my aunt once said.

He brings his hand to his chest as if I’ve punched him there.

“No. No, you’re not,” he says breathlessly and leans in, pushing his fingers into my hair.

“You can’t mean that. You’re not a stain, not a bother, you’re not a problem.

And you’re not a creep,” he says, eyes intense as his voice breaks ever so slightly in the bright interior of the photo booth.

I shrug, but I’m so moved by his words I dare to wrap my arm around him even though we’re not hidden under the bed, where the monster is allowed to take him. “You don’t need to coddle me. I know I’m strange and monstrous. I accept the nickname too. It fits.”

“No, it doesn’t!” His lips twist as he looks away, blinking rapidly. “You must have a name. What is it?”

My name? I don’t use it outside official situations. Even the local cops call me Creep despite the name on my licence. My mouth is dry and achy as if he’s using forceps to pry out my secret.

“What for?”

He exhales, resting his forehead on my collarbone. “Because I want it. Give it to me.”

“Cr…eed. Creed. My name is Creed.” It feels strange to say it out loud, as if sound contained in that short word is covered in razorblades that hurt my throat on the way out, but I enfold Angel in my arms, and it softens the blow.

He relaxes then nuzzles my neck in a way so exquisite I find myself shivering. “Hello, Creed.”

“Hi.” I chuckle, stroking my way up his exposed spine.

I’m not even afraid of the bright lights anymore.

I want Angel to see me. No one else has to, as long as he does.

I’m that ugly snail peeking out of its shell for the first time, afraid of salt being thrown in its eyes.

But if I don’t open up, if I stay in the cave, locked in the shadows under my angel’s bed, I will miss out on my one chance in a lifetime.

“I’m Angel,” he tells me, and a strange sweetness fills my chest when he lifts my chin so our eyes can meet. “And I think there is nothing wrong with you. We are all a bit strange, just pieces of stardust formed into weird muscle and bone shapes.”

“I’m more like dark matter,” I joke and catch his lips for a sweet kiss.

“No, you’re the Saturn to my Venus. I see it now. You’re exactly what I needed all along.” Angel runs his finger over one of the planets in my necklace, then leans in, humming softly as I close my eyes, focusing on his touch and the warm scent of jasmine on his skin.

“You’re mine, and I wish a picture of us was in the canteen, along with everyone else’s. Aren’t we a part of Vulture Hollow too?”

I nod. I’ve got patches on my jacket to prove where I belong, but it’s as though he’s the missing link, the connection that brings me close to my community. He makes me human, and others can now see it too.

“Okay. Do I… look okay? I’m probably bruised. Should we take some when I look better?”

Angel swallows and swipes his fingers over the throbbing spot on my face. “You got those bruises defending me. That makes them really beautiful.”

He has such a way of making me feel like I can grow wings and become an angel myself. I’d fucking die for him, so what’s taking a photo?

“Should I look at the camera?” I ask, a little intimidated. I need these photos to be everything he wants.

“To start with,” he responds and taps the touch screen. Moments later, I see us staring back—me with an awkward frown I quickly try to correct, him—embracing me as he grins at the camera. I’m so lucky.

So very, very lucky.

The process is way less painful than I thought, and our second photo has Angel kissing my cheek.

The camera captures the surprise on my face and the grin on his perfectly.

I’m embarrassed of the face I’m making, but we don’t need to show people all the pictures, so when my boy pulls me into a kiss, I dive right in, trembling when the flash lights up the cabin.

I’m elated. A bit scared, yes, but I could move mountains for him, and when he palms my cock, making it grow, I gasp into Angel’s lips.

I hide my flushed face from the next photo as he giggles.

“That’s… yeah, I think we have enough photos.

” I have to shift in the seat. I’ve already pushed my own boundaries in ways I thought unimaginable just weeks ago.

He’s touching me, we’re kissing, making eye contact.

He’s so bold yet mindful of how I feel about being touched.

He’s so in tune with me he knows when to push and when to stop to avoid causing damage.

He would probably be really good at gardening, because he’d always recognize the signs of whether a plant has too much or too little water.

“We really should go hang that picture in the canteen,” he says, teasingly locking his gaze with mine as he slides out of the booth. Is that… does he mean—

I follow him once I adjust my jeans. “Um… n-now?”

He grins, taking a few steps back toward the merry-go-round. “Don’t you want to be alone with me, Creed?”

I love the sound of my name on his lips. It’s giving me the courage to do what I’ve been hesitant about for three days now. Tonight. I’m doing it tonight.

“I do. I want to be alone with you so bad. Let’s go.”

Surrounded by the flashing lights, he’s my own personal gate to heaven.