Whiskey and Wry (Sinners, #2)

He cried, more tears that he didn’t think he had in him. Through the murmur of white noise, he heard a whisper of Miki asking if he was okay, then Sionn saying they’d be right in. He wanted to tell Miki he was fine, but he couldn’t find the words inside of him.

The silence returned, punctuated only by his crying and Sionn’s murmurs of raw, river-stone Gaelic. Eventually, he felt the hard rub of his lover’s hands on his back and the brush of his mouth on his cheek and forehead, small caresses meant to soothe away the pain crackling through Damie’s soul.

Finally, he found something to say, a small whisper of anguish hiding deep inside of him.

“He killed my mother, Irish. My mother.” Clutching at Sionn, he breathed in the man’s masculine scent, needing the familiar to drive out the cold lodged in him. “And I’m scared to death he’s going to kill you too.”





Chapter 13




Aw, Sinjun, you wrote your first love song.



Fuck you, Damie.



No, come on. I like it. It’s sweet. In a sucking on a razor blade and I’m bleeding in your mouth kind of way.



Yeah, but do you like it?



I do. It kicks ass. Does Kane know you wrote something sticky sweet for him?



Um, D, I wrote this for Dude.



—Test Session 52, Take 1





“AND the doctor said you’re all right?” Edie peered out at Damien through the tablet screen, her eyes boggled by her large eyeglass frames. “The headaches really are normal? Because if you are lying to me, Damien….”

“Doc said the headaches are normal. Nosebleeds are because I’m not drinking enough water, and when I get a headache, it just adds to the pressure.” He’d missed her bossiness. Combined with the owlish disapproval and her quirky, pursed lips, Edie’s long face was a familiar comfort in the whirl of doctors, lawyers, and cops he’d spoken to over the past twenty-four hours. “Promise. I’m good. Just a bit disconnected, but he said he hopes all of my memory will come back to me. I didn’t lose any motor functions, and hey, I can still play.”

“Because that’s what’s important.” Her sneer was epic, not a whit diminished by the thousands of miles between them. The harsh lines of her face softened, and the screen blurred for a moment as she pressed her fingertips to the tablet face. “I know it is to you, baby, but what’s most important to us is that we have you back.”

They talked for a few more minutes before the eight-hour difference between them tugged sleep over Edie’s weary face. Promising to speak to her soon, Damien logged off and collapsed against the couch.

It was odd having his life back, or at least the bits and pieces he’d left behind. Miki’d saved everything, refusing to throw out any part of Damien’s existence, and while he appreciated having clothes to wear and familiar guitars to pick at, he questioned his best friend’s sanity.

“I was dead, Sinjun,” Damien muttered as they went through the boxes, unearthing things Damien didn’t remember owning. “You should have tossed all this shit out.”

“I wasn’t ready for you to be dead, D,” Miki replied softly. “I guess I figured as long as I was alive, you were too.”

They’d gone through the boxes in the afternoon, after he’d woken up. The last thing he remembered of the night he’d come home was being sprawled around Miki on the couch they used to have in their apartment, its frame reupholstered and fluffed with new stuffing. There’d been some rocking motion and Sionn’s deep voice telling someone they’d sleep in. Drugged from lack of sleep, he’d woken up briefly when Sionn stripped his jeans from his legs and tugged a warm duvet over him, but the next thing he knew, he was blinking away at the watery light coming through the warehouse’s high windows and wrapped up tight in the Irishman’s arms.

Neither said anything, but Damien knew Sionn was awake. Instead, he turned around and forced the man onto his back, straddled Sionn’s thighs, and pressed his hands on the man’s broad shoulders. Working his way down the length of Sionn’s body, Damien laved at every curve of muscle he found until he could wrap his mouth around the base of Sionn’s cock. The man protested, making noises about Damien needing to take care, but he shook off Sionn’s hands.

“Shut up and listen to me, Irish,” Damie whispered, licking at the spongy head hidden beneath Sionn’s hood. “You say you’re safe. I know I’m safe. So unless you’re somehow going to get me pregnant, I’m going to suck you clean and fill my belly with your taste. Because I need that. I need you. Right. Now. Because the only thing that’s going to make me feel better right now is you.”

He then spent more than half an hour showing Sionn the way to heaven.