Sanguis Noctis: Bloodlines Part 27

"No. I'm saying you gave him what you thought he needed. You gave him your freedom, what you think that means." Edwin paused, searching for words. "You gave him the sliver of your sky. That's kind, Jed. It's not right, but it's kind. And that's more important than getting it perfect your first time."

Jed just shook his head, jaw tight. He'd locked Redford up. He'd locked him up, and he'd exposed him to a life of blood and violence. Which was the life Jed knew, the one he was soaked in, but he shouldn't have sullied Redford with it. He shouldn't have rubbed his dirt all over someone so clean.

"I can't stand to be cooped up," Edwin said again, and Jed wanted to scream at him. He got it. He got that he'd f.u.c.ked up. He didn't need some idiot kid telling him all over again. But then Edwin went on. "But Randall can. He wants to be inside, in a library, just as much as I want to run. And he's not less of a wolf. He's not being forced. Honestly, he just... he likes it. I don't get it, but he's my brother. So I'd go to the library with him, I'd stay outside on the steps while he picked out books. And he always brought back one to read to me. He'd go down to the lake with me, we'd sit there and he'd read me a story while I ran around and chased b.u.t.terflies."

Confused, Jed looked up to meet Edwin's eyes, calm and blue, wiser than he should be. Wiser than anyone who went around naked as much as Edwin ever should be allowed to become. Maybe the eyes of a kid who'd grown up fast and still clung, as much as possible, to the things that gave him the most joy. "So you're saying I should read Redford a book?" Jed asked, voice low and hoa.r.s.e.

"I'm saying, stop trying to dictate what kind of wolf Redford is." Edwin's lips curved upward. "Just sit outside with him. Read to him while he runs. Don't try to make him into what you think he should be, Jed."

"Yeah, well, I can only read the books with the big pictures, anyway." Jed forced a quick smirk, studying Edwin's face, the haunted look still lingering in his eyes. "Look, my line of work... it ain't pretty. And I've made my peace with what I do. h.e.l.l, I'm good at it. But Redford, he's better than that."

"He's also an adult." Edwin wrinkled his nose, obviously confused. "I mean, unless I missed his traumatic brain injury."

"Shut up," Jed muttered.

"Seriously, come on. Give him a choice. But don't walk away if he picks staying with you. Come on, martyring yourself for his happiness is kind of ridiculous. He knows what you do. Maybe you can just tell him what you're thinking and talk about it?" Edwin's eyes cut to the table full of empty bottles. "Without drinking yourself stupid."

Jed had the good grace to look a little rueful. "It's a coping method." Usually he'd drink and then go get f.u.c.ked by a stranger. Funny, this time he hadn't even thought about that as a possibility.

"It makes you stink," Edwin told him bluntly. "I don't know anything about being a... whatever you are."

"Security consultant," Jed deadpanned.

"Yeah, sure." Edwin laughed at that, leaning back in his chair. "Whatever. All I know is, I'd be pretty p.i.s.sed if someone decided they got to make all kinds of decisions for me. I might be young, but I'm not stupid. I can figure out what I want, what I should stick around for, and when I should run. I'm guessing Redford can too."

Yeah, he really could. That big, beautiful brain of his was definitely better than the walnut Jed was toting around. Redford was strong and brilliant. He could make his own decisions. "I think...." Christ, was he actually going to admit this? Jed swore he'd never f.u.c.king drink again. "I think I'm just afraid that I'm going to be just like his grandmother. I'm going to shove him in a cage, and he's going to take it because he thinks he has to."

Edwin was quiet for a minute, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers had started to tap restlessly on his legs, his foot jittering absently. "Get a yard," he advised solemnly.

Jed couldn't help but snort a laugh. "Thanks, Socrates."

"Get a yard, get some room, and stop thinking you get to tell him what it means to be free." Edwin pinned Jed with a look. "I've seen the way Redford looks at you. You're his freedom, Jed. You're part of what makes him feel like he can run forever, like he just has to howl because his body isn't big enough to hold everything in. That's what it means to be a mate, I think."

"We're not mates." The disagreement was almost automatic, but Jed's voice trailed up at the end, a question seeping in.

Edwin scoffed, apparently not interested in listening to his denials. "You have his mark on your arm. Trust me, I can smell this stuff." He tapped the side of his nose. "You're mates. Or you could be. If you let yourself."

Jed stared down at his arm, Redford's bite marks still standing out angry red and scabbed over. He'd noted the other day, idly, that it would definitely scar. And while it still ached, Jed had to admit, some small part of him didn't mind. Sure, he'd rather not get mauled, and he didn't want Redford to ever get so lost again that he couldn't find his way out, but if he had to add to his collection of scars, he was halfway glad it was from Redford.

"How'd you get so d.a.m.n annoying?" he grumbled at Edwin.

"Daytime television." Edwin gave him a wolfish grin.

It didn't make a ton of sense yet, no. Though that could partially be because his head was still throbbing. Jed was pretty sure a bunch of nice words didn't suddenly make it okay that Redford was going to age a h.e.l.l of a lot slower or need to be taken for regular walks. And Jed wasn't sure where he fit in with the hippie clan of four-legged idiots. Maybe he didn't. Maybe neither of them did.

Maybe he should just get a f.u.c.king yard.

"We gotta go," Jed decided, lurching to his feet, weaving his way to his bag to start shoving his stuff back inside. Christ, the whole world was playing Tilt-A-Whirl. Jed was kind of amazed that he didn't just go cras.h.i.+ng to the ground. But he managed to hold himself upright long enough to get his stuff packed and a protesting Knievel back into the cat carrier.

They were a two-hour drive away. If they stopped for the world's largest coffee and maybe a greasy burrito, Jed could be moderately sober by the time they got back to the camp.

"Sure hope you can drive, La.s.sie," Jed said, tossing the keys to Edwin. "We gotta get back."

Edwin stared down at the keys, a slow grin working its way across his face. "Awesome."

SO IT turned out, Edwin could not drive. He could not at all drive, despite his protests to the contrary and the fact that he could sing "The Wheels on the Bus" with dirty lyrics. Jed just thought it was d.a.m.n lucky he was so hungover, because if he'd been sober enough to get behind the wheel he might have left Edwin to run home after he nearly took out the drive-through speakers and then started laughing hysterically.

After a very quick lesson about what the gas and brake pedal did, Jed settled back with his coffee and burrito and tried to not notice how close they were to dying at every moment. Luckily, the road was near deserted, and no one was there to honk at Edwin when he drove ten miles under the speed limit and drifted all the way over to the white line.

When they finally were bouncing down the long dirt road that led back to the camp, Jed was feeling marginally more clearheaded. He was half leaning out the window, stomach cramping into knots as he mentally urged Edwin to go faster. He just wanted to get there. Redford was there, was alone, Jed had left him alone, and even though Jed knew all the reasons why, he still wanted to cut off his own b.a.l.l.s.

He didn't have a f.u.c.king clue what he was doing. How they'd work. But he couldn't bear the thought of not figuring it out together.

As they rounded the last bend, Jed spotted a familiar figure standing by the side of the path.

Redford. Framed in the waving gra.s.s, he was almost achingly beautiful. Jed barked, "Stop," but didn't give Edwin much of a chance to comply. Before the van had done more than slow down, he was diving out of the door, rolling and landing flat on his back, wind knocked out of him. But he was up again in the next beat, shoving himself forward and running toward Redford.

Turned out they had the same idea, and their collision had more force than Jed had intended it to. Redford saved them from toppling into the gra.s.s by grabbing Jed's shoulders. He wore the biggest smile Jed had ever seen him with.

"I'm so glad you're back," Redford said in a rush. "I was just going to come find you. I rang that contact of yours that lives near here, um, Burns or something, and he was going to come pick me up, and I was going to scour every hotel in a hundred mile radius. Are you okay? You don't look so good. Did you get into trouble?"

"Red?" Jed pulled back enough to study Redford's face, to drink him in like he was a f.u.c.king well in the middle of the G.o.dd.a.m.n sun. "Shut up."

Just like that, Redford yanked him in close, Jed tangled his fingers in Redford's hair and tugged him in, and they met in a hungry, desperate clash. Their lips met, tongues pressing and taking, Jed completely breathless as Redford kissed him back so hard he couldn't think. If it had been possible to melt right into Redford, to give up the entirety of his physical existence just to sag into everything Redford was, he would have right then. He needed him, needed, with an ache Jed couldn't even begin to articulate.

So he kissed Redford, wrapping his arms around him tight enough to ensure there wasn't even an inch of s.p.a.ce between them.

"I'm sorry," he was whispering between every kiss. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Red."

"You don't need to apologize," Redford fervently replied. "It's okay. I don't care that you left. I just care that you're back." He pulled back from Jed so he could properly look him in the eye, doubt touching his face. "You are back, aren't you? You didn't just forget your toothbrush or something?"

Heaving out a broken laugh, Jed shook his head, studying Redford's face, sliding his fingers along those three faint scars on Redford's cheek. "I shouldn't have left," he told Redford seriously. "I mean, I thought.... I thought I had to. I just want you to be happy, babe. I need you to be happy."

Redford got that little crinkle between his eyebrows, the one he wore whenever he was thinking hard about something, weighing everything in his mind. "When you left, you said you were doing it to make me happy," he murmured, confused. "It definitely didn't make me happy, but did you change your mind?"

"I just...." A frown flickered across Jed's face. He leaned up to kiss away the wrinkle on Redford's forehead, nudging his nose in alongside Redford's with a quiet sigh. "I'm scared," he admitted heavily. Two times he'd said it in the same day. The world was probably going to end.

Redford glanced around them, which led Jed to do the same. Edwin had obviously taken the van back to camp at some point, and they were utterly alone in the long gra.s.s and trees beside the dirt road. Redford took Jed's hand and tugged him over to a fallen tree, where they sat-which was nothing short of absolute relief for Jed's still hungover brain.

"Are you scared of me?" Redford asked. "Or scared of my instincts? Or something else?"

Redford looked so d.a.m.n worried, so pinched and guilty, that Jed couldn't help but pull him in close. Nothing should ever make Redford look that way. Jed wanted to burn down the world, knowing it was his fault. Cupping Redford's cheek with his hand, he sighed, thumb making a slow arc against Redford's skin. "Never of you," he said softly, holding Redford's gaze. "Not ever."

"I know you said you left because you thought you'd turned me into a bad person." Redford's worried look took on a touch of confusion. "But if you're not scared of me, and I know you still love me and you don't love bad people, then I just.... I don't get it." Redford paused. "But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. All I need to know is that you're back with me."

It was an out. And if there was one thing Jed Walker was good at, it was taking the G.o.dd.a.m.n out. Playing their fingers together, resting their joined hands on his knee, Jed found it easier to stare down at them rather than hold Redford's gaze. "I'm scared," he tried again, tone thick, "that I'm your grandmother." s.h.i.+t, it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "That I'm forcing you into a different kind of cage and that I'm the reason...." f.u.c.k, did his voice actually crack? G.o.dd.a.m.n it. "I'm the reason," he continued, clearing his throat, "that your instincts haven't settled down."

Redford shut him up by kissing him. Jed did have to agree that it was the more pleasant option, so when Redford drew back, Jed frowned, missing the contact already.

"I don't know why my head is screwed up," Redford admitted. "But I know it's not because of you. Don't you get that, Jed? When I was with my grandmother, I was young, and I didn't know any better. I'm strong now. I can think for myself. Do you think you'd be able to force me to do anything I didn't want to?"

Still resolutely looking absolutely anywhere but Redford's face, Jed s.h.i.+fted slightly, wanting to keep protesting. It was easier to just blame himself. Hurt like f.u.c.k, but it was easier, because he could control that. He could bundle up all that self-loathing and have a nice, handy outlet for his grief. But Edwin had been right. Redford was right. Redford was a man, a very intelligent, very strong man. He wasn't the scared guy Jed had found hiding in a dead woman's house.

And even then, even then, Redford had been beautifully strong. Even then, he'd been a better man than Jed ever would be.

"I'm not a good man," he said lowly, jaw tight. "I don't have... good things in my life. Just you. You're the best G.o.dd.a.m.n thing I've got going on, Red. What if I ruin you? What if my filth gets all over you? I think I'd just put a bullet in my G.o.dd.a.m.n brain, because you're... f.u.c.k, you're the G.o.dd.a.m.n moon, you know? And I'm just this.... I'm this s.h.i.+t-stain who doesn't deserve you."

However much the words hurt to say, Redford looked even more wounded by them than Jed felt. "If you keep going, I'm going to hit you, because you're talking about the person I love," Redford protested. "And I don't like it when people insult you."

Christ. Jed could feel his face crumple. Maybe it was all the booze still slos.h.i.+ng around somewhere in his system. Maybe it was the lack of proper sleep or the hangover pounding his head like a hippo doing tap dance. Maybe it was just Redford, the sweet sternness in his gaze, the strength with which he was holding on to Jed's hand. Maybe it was that he still felt safer here, with Redford, than he ever had.

Jed chased a lot of monsters. Real now, and the all-too-human kind. He'd been a monster; he still was sometimes. He was brash and he was bold, and he never flinched. He never backed down.

Redford was the one G.o.dd.a.m.n thing that made him feel safe.

One minute Jed was just sitting there, still reciting all the reasons why not, still not entirely sure. He'd been sure a few hours ago, but the drive had given him more time to think and for old fears to resurface. So he sat there and he thought, and he wondered if Redford was right. If there was a chance. Or if he should listen to reason and just leave. He was thinking. He was caught between the two. And the next minute, he was leaning into Redford's shoulder, hot tears burning at his throat, caught there when Jed refused to let them fall.

"Yeah?" he managed, voice almost gone. "Well maybe I should listen to you, then. You are the brains of this operation."

He could feel Redford smile against his hair as his arms came up around Jed's back, gently rubbing over his shoulder blades. "I am," Redford replied, holding him tight. "And I'm an expert on the subject of Journey Walker. So when I say you're the best man I've ever met, you should listen to me. I have footnotes and citations and everything."

Huffing a laugh, pretty d.a.m.n glad no one had seen his chick-flick moment, Jed just pressed his face into Redford's neck, feeling all that sick tension ease away. "Yeah?" A low breath and he was sliding his lips along Redford's skin, aching to feel him. G.o.d, it felt like forever. "I love it when you talk nerdy."

"That's not nerdy, that's just well-sourced research." There was a hint of a laugh under Redford's words. He bent his head, tucking his chin over Jed's shoulder. They were so wrapped up together, a knot of limbs and sighs and smiles, that Jed wasn't sure they'd ever untangle. What he did know, though, was that he never f.u.c.king wanted to.

Eventually, they did make it into their cabin. As much as Jed wanted to stay curled up in Redford's arms forever, they probably shouldn't turn into the crazy woodsmen who lived on a fallen log. Hand in hand, they walked back toward the camp, shoulders pressed tight together. They pa.s.sed the van, which was parked... interestingly. Points for effort to Edwin, in any case. Probably having the van half up on a small hill of dirt was not the best choice, but at least it was right side up.

"I let Edwin drive," Jed told Redford with a slight laugh. "Holy c.r.a.p, I nearly died." It all hit him then, and he started to laugh, cheeks hurting with how wide he was grinning. "He showed up naked, Red, and I was so drunk I pa.s.sed out, and then I let him drive home. That was the weirdest G.o.dd.a.m.n night."

Redford just smiled at him, squeezing Jed's hand tighter. "I'm guessing you'll never let him drive again?"

"I am pretty sure I let him pop his driving cherry," Jed snorted. "So no. Never, ever again." They reached their cabin. Jed was only distantly surprised to find Knievel sitting on the porch, waiting for them. He probably should have let her drive home. It would have been safer, and she had two fewer thumbs than Edwin.

The cabin looked exactly the same. Jed had almost been expecting some kind of significant change, but it had only been a day. And Redford didn't tend to get drunk and throw alcohol bottles everywhere like Jed did. Redford shut the door behind them and flicked on the light, his gaze never leaving Jed.

"Hey," Jed whispered, tugging Redford into him, a faint smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Redford came easily into his arms, leaning his weight on Jed to topple them onto the bed, where Redford seemed to have a moment of thinking he was some kind of octopus in wrapping every limb around Jed.

"Do you know what I learned when you were gone?" Redford asked lowly.

"How to do origami?" Jed guessed, trailing kisses along his jaw. "The secret of the universe?"

"Close," Redford huffed. "I learned that you're my pack. And some wolves need lots of pack members, and some don't. And some need to be outside, or to be with another wolf, and some don't." He lifted up on his elbow to look at Jed. "But that first realization was the most important one."

Rubbing his thumb along Redford's cheek, Jed studied his face, throat oddly tight. "You think I'm your pack?" Two years ago, he was pretty sure he would have laughed right out loud at the idea. And the terminology. But now he could feel warmth spreading in his chest, a terrifying sense of rightness at the thought. "Isn't that kind of a big deal for you?"

Redford frowned. "A big deal in admitting that, or a big deal, period?"

"Kinda both." Jed let his fingers trail lightly through Redford's hair. As far as he knew, the whole pack thing meant... family. It meant something a lot bigger than Jed could handle. He wasn't anyone's family. He wasn't that guy.

"It's not." Redford b.u.mped his chin against Jed's chest in an affectionate gesture. "I liked saying it. And you being my pack is probably the most right, natural thing I've ever felt. You're everything I need."

Silent for a few moments, rubbing his hand absently up and down Redford's back, Jed struggled to come up with a response. Redford just said it so easily. He honestly wasn't sure what to do with that. "Have I ever told you about my family?"

Redford blinked at him, startled, and an eager look started to light his eyes. "No, you haven't. I'd love to hear about them."

Grimacing, Jed just kind of shook his head. Yeah, he didn't have many Walton family Christmas stories. And he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd talked about them. Maybe sometime in his early army days. When he'd enlisted, he'd had to write down his family's medical history, and he hadn't even known if he knew their latest address. "I, uh." Sighing, half hating that he'd brought it up, Jed shrugged. "I've got an older brother and sister. Two parents." He trailed off, scowling. Christ, how did he even talk about this?

Redford started to look concerned. "If it's bad, you don't have to tell me about them."

"No, no, f.u.c.k, it's not... bad." A lot of people had a.s.sumed Jed came from some horrifying background. The truth of it was probably a lot more mundane than one might guess. "They were just... they were nice." Jed sighed, flicking his gaze away from Redford to stare up at the ceiling. "They were all really nice. Normal. I just.... I don't know. I never fit. Ever. I grew up feeling like I was some tacked on piece of a puzzle that didn't belong there. I hated it, not because they were bad people, they weren't. Just because I never felt like I should be a part of them."

It made him seem like an a.s.shole, Jed knew. He'd known it back then. His parents had loved him, probably. They'd certainly never abused him. He'd had food and clothes and a roof over his head. All common sense dictated that Jed should have been grateful. He should have stuck around. And he hadn't. Even as a kid, he'd been the guy who ran away when s.h.i.+t got too hard. Give him a war any day. He'd never figured out how to handle family.

Redford rubbed Jed's arm. "That sounds like it was hard," he said sympathetically. "Are they all still alive?"

Snorting a little laugh, Jed shook his head helplessly. "I don't know." Christ, Redford was going to hate him. "I, uh. I left home when I was sixteen. Haven't talked to them since. I don't even know where they are." The guy who could find anyone, and he didn't have a f.u.c.king clue if his parents were dead or alive.

Redford looked like he wasn't sure what to make of that. Jed hadn't told many people about his parents: a few army buddies, way back when, when he'd been so drunk he couldn't control his words and someone had brought up the topic of family. It'd never gone over well, saying he just didn't talk to them. For some reason, it was a.s.sumed that whatever unit you were put into-by fate, design, a broken condom, or some adoption agency-you were supposed to like them. h.e.l.l, you were supposed to love them. If they didn't beat you, if they fed you, took care of you, it was a biological imperative that you have some kind of emotional connection. And Jed just... didn't.

Redford, who really had had it bad, finally just nodded and smiled at Jed sadly. "Okay," he said simply. His hand stole up to find Jed's again, and when they were joined, Redford brought them up to rest under his chin. "Do you think you'll ever want to contact them, someday?"

Jed had to admit, he was still waiting for Redford to react differently. To realize that if Jed couldn't even hack it with the people he'd been born into, how the f.u.c.k was he supposed to make anything else work? "I don't know," Jed answered, fidgeting a little.

That was a lie.

"No," he sighed, eyes still locked somewhere above Redford's head. "s.h.i.+t, Red.... I know, I know that I should be different. But it always felt like they were strangers. I'm sure they loved me, I don't doubt it. But I never could figure out how to be a part of something like that. I don't do families. I don't know how."

"And you don't have to, if you don't want to," Redford replied softly. "You didn't pick them. You didn't get on with them, and that's okay." He hesitated, b.u.mping his chin against Jed's knuckles. "You can choose me to be your pack, if you want."

Jesus Christ. It wasn't even a conscious decision to finally lower his gaze to Redford's. He was drawn like a G.o.dd.a.m.n magnet. "I'd pick you a hundred times over," Jed whispered, the words sinking down into him. They were true. He knew they were true. For the first time in his life, he honestly felt like he was home. "I don't know how to do this, Red, but you make me want to figure it out."

"Me too." Redford smiled. "We can figure it out together."

A very slow smile started curling across Jed's face. "Now that sounds like something I can handle." They were a team. They were partners. Jed trusted him. He trusted Redford with his back, his guns, his life. He sure as h.e.l.l could trust him now. His slid his hand down, b.u.mping fingers over the dog tags and whistle Redford wore. "You and me?"

"Always."

Chapter 13.

Randall IT WAS the summer solstice.