“What?”
He smiled but kept his eyes determinedly closed.“You’re not coming to my bed like that and not bringing me coffee in the morning, Joey.I like caramel.”
“Chocolate,” Joey snapped, and Gideon opened his eyes and saw that he was irritated.
“Good,” he said softly.“If you know what kind of coffee I like, next time you can just get it and come back to bed.”
He saw that lean mouth part, probably to argue, to pretend, to push back.
“Fine,” Joey said, the bafflement in his voice gratifying.“Where are your keys?”
“The bowl by the door,” Gideon murmured.“I’ll take a breakfast sandwich too.I’ll be showered when you get back.We can go in and do paperwork today so we’re ready to train Garcia on Monday.”
Gideon heard him stomp his way through the apartment and then let himself out through the front door.He left the window open, in case Carlyle was tempted not to return, though—what had happened the night before was really too important not to show his throat.
Let the Wolf Choose
THAT FIRSTtime was easy, like an accident.Gideon wandered into his room one night and there Joey Carlyle was, in his bed, waiting for him to be done with whatever people were there.
Gideon frequently got the idea that other people were not quite real to Joey Carlyle.The team was—but Gideon had seen that happen step by step as Joey began to feel affinity, then affection, then protectiveness and a fierce loyalty for everybody on the team.Gideon was real because he was on the team, but Gideon had a feeling, a nagging gut instinct, that Gideon wasn’t real to Joey as aloverafter one roll in the hay, no matter how insistent Gideon had been on the morning after.
So the first time was easy, but the second would take more finesse.Gideon had to seduce a man without touching him, without making eye contact, without flirting.Not that Gideon was good at those things anyway, but he’d capitalized on a certain slow sideways glance or a deliberate quirk of his lean mouth to get a lover’s attention.But Joey was a wolf—Joey wasthewolf—and as with most wolves, the wrong touch, reaching too quickly, even just brushing the guard hairs at the ruff wrong, all of that could lead to the loss of fingers, or even a whole hand.
Or even a whole heart.
So the first time was easy, but the second time Gideon had to pretend like the first time never happened.He tried once or twice to nudge Carlyle into decision, but no dice.
“Don’t forget you’ve got stuff at my place.”
“Fuck off.”
Oh.Okay, then.
“Do you like orange juice in the mornings?”
“How do you know I’ll ever be at your place in the morning again?”
Oh.Well, then.Gideon had to find another way.
He waited patiently, knowing that Joey might be out sniffing other asses like a dedicated wolf might, but also knowing that Gideon already had an advantage.He was real to Joey Carlyle like most people weren’t.
He held on to that, even knowing in the time that followed their first encounter (ha!First mauling, both physically and emotionally) that Joey might go sniffing in other lairs to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake.
There were days—many of them—in the two weeks after their night together—when Gideon would scent the air, shiver, and rush to the window to see if he was there.
Most of the time, he wasn’t, or Gideon only caught the sound of his footsteps on the wet or icy pavement below.
One night, though, Joey waited a breath too long before disappearing, and for a moment, they locked eyes, staring at each other in the distance between the third floor and the pavement, and Gideon could see it.Yearning.Gideon waswanted.Carlyle wasdyingfor him.
But Joey, Gideon was sure, was very much afraid that one night had been a mistake.
Gideon would do anything to prove that they weren’t a mistake.
So he kept his sideways glances and casual touches to himself, but he kept his ears alert for things that would make Carlyle particularly alert to Gideon.
When the thing came, Gideon almost missed it.
“Everybody, we caught one.”
