He’d put the flash of desire down to the fact that he hadn’t had another man in his life for years, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had anything other than his own hand wrapped around his cock. Or at least he would have, if Ellis wasn’t laughing at him with a big wolf smile.
Ellis’s prey—barring the bruises and scars—looked as if he had been created to scratch every single one of Gibson’s itches. There was something about a lean man, sleek with honed muscles and a stretch of long limbs, that made his belly tighten with anticipation. He wasn’t beautiful. Not the kind of pretty face that sold edgy clothes or fast tech, the man Ellis dragged out of the lake wore a bit of life on his features, the barest hint of crow’s feet at the edges of his long-lashed eyes, and at some point, ran into something a little bit harder than his nose, leaving a tiny bump on the bridge. Even with his body warming up, he was still a bit gray, the pallor of the man in recovery. Several of the extensive scars along his legs, knees, and back were a rosy pink, agitated beneath the surface of the skin. They weren’t new, but they were new enough to still be angry.
Or maybe it was just the man who wore them that was angry. His fists were tight, clenched in and held against his sides, as if Gibson caught him in midbattle. But then knowing Ellis as well as he did—or as well as anyone could know Ellis—he might have been. The black wolf only had a sense of humor around Gibson. The rest of the time, he was somber and distracted, sometimes spoiling for a fight—a fight neither Ellis nor Gibson could afford.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you went out and hunted him for me,” Gibson said. The man moaned, shifting on the cushions, and Gibson realized he hadn’t really been around another human being to talk to, other than Old Walter at the convenience store down the hill. “Ellis, did you really have to drive him into the lake?”
Once again, he didn’t get an answer.
“Okay, let’s get you warm,” Gibson said as he piled the warm towels and a couple of quilts over the man’s naked body. “Your skin is pinking up a bit. That’s a good sign, or at least I hope it is. Anything I’ve learned is because I’ve had to do research for a damned book. Not sure that’s going to help us.”
Power was definitely out, and his phone signal was weak, not that it was ever strong to begin with. Making another attempt at contacting emergency services only led to another bout of frustration. The connection crackled and snapped, and the landline was no better. Outside, the storm howled, and Gibson did a mental calculation of the supplies he had in the larder and freezer. It was going to be a gamble on the frozen foods, and he would have to watch the temperature to determine if it was safer to move everything outside and let the elements keep it solid or run the small generator he had on hand for dire emergencies.
“The next time we decide to get a cabin in the woods, El, it’s going to have to be on the grid a little bit firmer than this one is—preferably someplace I could use a microwave and hairdryer at the same time without worrying if I’m going to blow the place up.”
Rocking back on his heels, Gibson knew that all he could do was wait, but it didn’t make the situation any easier. The man was breathing, his pulse was strong, yet the bump on his head was worrisome. If he didn’t regain consciousness soon, Gibson was going to have to make some hard decisions. The storm’s fury wouldn’t let them get to the road, and even if he could, there wasn’t any guarantee it was passable.
“Closest thing to us is that B&B. That’s a good hard mile or so, don’t you think? Nothing else on the other side of us for a long time. Wallet gave us a name, but his license says he’s from the city.” He glanced at Ellis, worrying at his lower lip as he thought. “The old inn is probably where this guy came from. They’re closer to the main road. More than likely they’ll have power unless a line snapped. At the very least, maybe a house phone that works. If he doesn’t start to rouse soon, I’m going to try to make it across to the old house and see if there is anybody there who can help. I’m going to have to leave him with you, Ellis.”
He tried to ignore the concern in the wolf’s furrowed expression, but it was too distinct, too troublesome to dismiss.
Snow clung to the windows, scalloped white drapery leaving bits of frost to lace its edges. Thunder rolled over them, the dark shattered by shards of lightning, bleaching the outside for a brief moment. The single-room cabin shook, and from his spot in front of the fire, Ellis began to whine.
“Come here,” Gibson called out to the wolf as he perched on the edge of the sectional’s short arm. “El, come on.”
Ellis got up, painfully slow, and his spine twisted, curling his large body around. The whites of his eyes were showing, and with another crash of thunder, he began to pant and pace. Snagging the wolf’s rough coat, Gibson dragged the recalcitrant Ellis toward him. His teeth were bared, lips curled back to show the gleaming white razors he used more to smile than to threaten, but there was a real danger now.
The storm’s noise—its cacophony—drove what little reason Ellis had left to the shadows. The cunning intelligence Gibson saw in Ellis’s amber gaze slowly seeped away, scattered by nightmares and memories. He’d been nipped before, a tooth snagged on the inside of his right arm during one of Ellis’s episodes, but this time—this storm—called a Wild Hunt of terrors from the dark recesses of Ellis’s mind.
“Come here.” He was torn between holding his brother close or turning Ellis’s muzzle away from him, but that act—no matter how sensible—was the basest form of rejection. They needed to share breath, exchange scent, and most of all Ellis needed to feel him, draw from Gibson’s strength in order to fight off the storm’s reverberations.
It was a battle of wills and denial. Ellis’s mass made it difficult for Gibson to maneuver, but he anchored himself against the couch and wrapped his arms around the wolf’s chest, drawing him in. Ellis strained against the embrace, a tightly wound snappish creature driven insane by the frenzy above them. His jaw gaped open, exposing nearly all of his teeth, and Gibson shifted his arm, hooking it under Ellis’s throat.