Page 22

SAINT

I woke in the middle of the night, cradled in warmth. There was a scent like masculine spice and clean clothes surrounding me and smooth, soft skin was pressed against my cheek and chest.

I blinked, trying to remember what had happened. How had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was fighting with my Drake, who had been raging with jealousy that Avery was his, damnit, that he didn’t belong to anyone else, but only to him—to us . He?—

Avery!

I looked up to see my small, blond roommate lying on the bed under me. It was his chest my head had been resting on and his arms were still wrapped loosely around me, holding me to him.

His own head was turned to one side, exposing the vulnerable side of his throat. I winced when I saw the dark, reddish bruise surrounded by bite marks— my bite marks, I realized. I had bitten him hard enough to draw blood when my Drake demanded his submission.

I remembered fighting with my Drake, who had been insisting that if we couldn’t have Avery, no one else should either. He had wanted to bite harder, deeper…the thought was almost too awful to remember and I tried to push it away as I traced the bite with my eyes.

Then something else caught my gaze.

Avery’s thick blonde hair was pushed back from his forehead and there, glimmering like a soft white star between his eyes, I saw a Mark— my Mark.

Reaching up, I felt my own forehead and a tingle ran through me. Not only had I Marked him as my own, I had insisted that he Mark me as well. Just as though he really was my l’lorna and we were destined to be lovers and fated mates.

A wave of shame ran through me. Not because I had Marked another male and let him mark me in turn—that had been my Drake’s demand.

No, the shame I felt was for what I had put Avery through.

He was smaller than me—not as small as a female, but small enough that I felt I had abused him—forced him to do things he didn’t want.

Of course he couldn’t fight me off—not with my own strength multiplied many times by the power of my Drake!

Dios, what was wrong with me, treating one I cared for like that?

I levered myself off him, being careful not to wake him, and went to my own bed.

I missed his warmth at once, but I didn’t deserve it—didn’t deserve him.

He had been so kind and good and patient with me and I had done nothing but hurt and scar him in return.

What was happening to me? What was I becoming?

My Drake—it’s his fault!

But I knew that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t only my Drake who longed for Avery’s touch.

I longed for it, too.

Even now, I wanted to go back to bed with him.

Wanted to wrap my arms around him and feel his skin against mine—wanted to hold him and be held by him as I breathed in his scent.

I wanted to wake him with a kiss and look into his eyes as I took his mouth with mine, wanted to feel his hands in my hair and all over my body as we lost ourselves in each other…

I had never wanted anything more badly in my life and my Drake had nothing to do with it—he was sleeping.

I pushed these thoughts away. None of that was true—it couldn’t be true. All my life I’d been raised to believe how wrong it was for two males to be together. I couldn’t be a man-lover.

Could I?

I was still struggling with that question when I at last closed my eyes and fell back into an exhausted slumber.