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“You mean you don’t want to want it. You fear that if we touch—even a little—the connection between us will overwhelm your determination again.”
Paul didn’t have an answer for that, even to himself but he could feel his frustration mounting. “Look, just don’t fucking touch me, all right? How hard can that be?”
Laurent closed his eyes briefly, his lashes like black fans across his high cheekbones.
“You have no idea, mon amour. ” Then he turned to go pack his things, leaving Paul to hope that this was going to be the fastest road trip in history.
It’ll be okay. We’ll drive up there, his nurse will tell us how to get rid of this fucking weird connection or bond or whatever it is, and then I’ll get a bus back home.
What he couldn’t admit—even to himself—was that he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. The pull to touch Laurent, to be in his arms, to kiss him, to taste him, was so intense it was an almost physical pain. I’m not like that. Can’t be like that, he told himself for what felt like the hundred thousandth time. Just have to get through this so things can get back to normal.
As if he’d ever been normal before.
Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to get through this somehow.
Just had to get through it.
Chapter Nine
Laurent huddled on his side of the Boxster Spyder miserably. He was hunched inside the dark hooded jacket he had packed for the daylight hours, but despite the protection, he could still feel the draining presence of the sun. It was noon outside and the sunshine was beating mercilessly through the windows of the little sports car like a golden hammer despite their custom tint job.
“You okay?” Paul threw him a sidelong glance from behind the steering wheel. He seemed to enjoy driving the expensive car much more than Laurent ever had. In fact he’d been so excited over the Spyder that Laurent had felt envious. The way Paul kept running his hands over the sleek hood, the admiration he’d expressed for the all-leather interior—he couldn’t help wishing he could have at least a little of that enthusiasm directed toward himself. Of course that wasn’t going to happen—though Laurent could feel the other man’s desire Paul had made it more than clear that he was determined to put their past encounters behind him and ignore the connection between them. In the face of such intense determination there was nothing Laurent could do. And now that the sun was up, he barely had the will to try, anyway. He lifted a hand to his temples and rubbed. Mon Dieu, but I feel so weak.
“Hey, man. I said, are you okay?” Paul’s anxiety drifted across the car to him, tearing at his already tattered nerves. The wolf had been driving for hours since they had switched places the moment the sun started edging over the horizon. Laurent had been glad to hand over the wheel and he was even more grateful not to be driving now.
The way he was feeling he doubted he could have walked three feet, let alone mustered the coordination to drive.
“I will be fine,” he made himself say though he was beginning to wonder if that was true. Of course the way he was feeling was his own fault. His insistence that they drive during the day instead of stopping at a hotel had been stupid. Though he was capable of daylight travel, it was depleting him terribly—much more than he’d expected it would. He felt dry and dehydrated—his entire body a desert craving fresh blood. The problem was, the blood he craved was Paul’s and the were had already made it more than clear that he wasn’t interested in playing “blood donor” again.
Laurent wished he dared to roll down his window. The scent in the car—the warm wild smell of wolf—was almost more than he could bear. It was pure torment to be so close to the one he wanted—the one his body needed—and be unable to slake his thirst.
And it wasn’t just his thirst. With every breath of Paul’s warm scent, with every glance at the hard muscular body riding so easily in the seat beside his, with every flash of those deep blue eyes toward him Laurent’s desire grew as well. The almost overwhelming need to touch and taste and caress, the demanding drive to hold Paul close and drive his fangs into the were’s neck as Paul drove his cock deep into Laurent’s body was becoming almost too much to bear.
It is only the call of my blood—it recognizes him as my Coeur de Sang even if he will not. I must ignore it. But how could he ignore a need that was rapidly becoming as vital as breathing? It almost made Laurent glad he felt too weak to do anything about his carnal urges. After turning down his offer of oral pleasure back at the carriage house Paul was on the defensive, his emotions roiling like a dark cloud of doubt and lust and shame that made an invisible but impenetrable fog around him. He was being careful— very careful—to keep to his own side of the car so that there was plenty of distance between them.
