Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (43 page)

Axton looked up, swallowing a chicken wing whole.

"What?" he asked.

Leander looked up at the ceiling.

"Triggers?" he asked again, and then he looked back at Axton and clarified. "Dana, did he ever sexually..."

"Oh," Axton said. "No, we didn't--no. Never. I would never do that to you. I don't cheat."

"No, I mean--" Leander tried, then stopped. In a perfectly neutral voice he asked, "Did he ever force himself--"

"No," Axton said, feeling his stomach drop queasily. "I mean. He's a gentleman about that sort of thing. And only that kind of thing, I guess. But no. He didn't even try to--no."

"Uh huh," Leander said. He hesitated. "You could tell me," he said softly. "Either way. It would be okay, you know?"

Axton shook his head.

"I believe you," he said. "But--" a thought occurred him. "What, was I, like, weird? In the truck?"

"Not at all," Leander said. "Just making sure. I just don't wanna, like, pin you down to the bed and cause a panic attack."

"I'll have a panic attack if you
don't
pin me down to the bed," Axton said.

"Is that a threat?"

"More of a promise," Axton said.

Even though it was winter, they were far south enough that the night air was still balmy and warm. Axton stood at the bow, leaning on the railing and looking down at the dark and calm waters.

Leander stepped up behind him.

"I used to want to live on a houseboat," he said. "Free from everything. When I was younger."

"What stopped you?" Axton asked, not turning around.

"Mostly the fact that boats are fucking expensive, so you're not free from anything," Leander mused, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Axton and lean on his back.

Axton did not melt into the touch, like he would have before. His hands gripped the railing.

"Are you going to ask how it was for me, for the past year and a half?" Axton said, eyes still on the water.

"Yeah," Leander said, "but probably not immediately, given that you're still like this. I asked the one thing I needed."

"I'm still like what?" Axton asked.

"Tense," Leander said. "You've been through some shit. That's obvious. But I trust that you'll tell me eventually."

"I was locked in a basement," Axton said, still facing the ocean instead of his lover, body still taut like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. "I was locked in a dark basement with--with nothing."

"At werewolf reconditioning camp?" Leander asked.

"No," Axton said. "There was no--there was just Dana."

"I'm sorry," Leander said.

"I tried to die," Axton said blankly. "I tried to starve myself to death, which is one of the surer ways for a werewolf to go."

"Axton," Leander said. "That's--no, don't--don't ever do that."

"I wanted to die," Axton said slowly. "I got so close."

"Ax--" Leander tried.

"I can't lose you again," Axton said, and his abdominal muscles, under Leander's hands, tightened anxiously. "I can't."

"You're not going to," Leander said.

"You don't know that," Axton said, jaw clenched.

"Hey, hey, hey," Leander cajoled. "Babe. Turn around. Turn around and look at me."

Axton gripped the ship's railing tighter, making his shoulders tense up towards his ears.

"C'mon," Leander urged, voice low. "Ax. Turn around."

Finally, Axton did, slow and painful as he turned, misery shallowly hidden on his face, worry shining out of his eyes.

"You are
here
," Leander said. "With me. You are not anywhere else, and I will not lose you again. Listen to the sound of my voice, smell the scent of my skin, feel my body pressing into yours. You are
here
, and I am with you, and you are with me."

Axton bowed his head and lowered his eyes. Leander leaned in and kissed his lips.

"I never knew how much he hurt you," Axton whispered. "I didn't know if you'd be able to even walk again, and yet here you are."

"That wasn't even the worst way he hurt me," Leander said, holding hands with Axton, entwining their fingers together.

"Separation is worse than broken legs?" Axton asked, something cold and sharp in his tone. It was not that he doubted Leander's feelings, but that he hardly felt that his own skin was worth all the pain Leander had endured. Axton still wrestled with the guilt he felt for Leander getting hurt at all.

"Sometimes, sure," Leander answered, "but I meant that my legs healed, pretty much on schedule. What I don't know is how he hurt you, so I can't tell how long it'll be before you heal."

Axton shook his head.

"I shouldn't have let you get hurt that night," he said. "I shouldn't have pushed you into that elevator. I shouldn't have--"

Leander clamped their mouths together and ran his tongue over the back of Axton's molars.

"Shh," he said, when he pulled back. "Stop. We can do that later. Be with me here,
now
. We have tonight."

"You got hurt," Axton said. "You got hurt and it was all because of me."

"And then you got hurt because of me," Leander said. "We can both stand here and feel terrible forever. We can taste our guilt until we choke on it. We can do that. Or we can be happy, instead, and kiss under the stars."

Axton breathed unsteadily.

"How are you so calm?" he asked.

"I'm really not," Leander said. "I only seem calm by comparison."

Axton pressed his hand to Leander's chest and felt his wildly beating heart.

"How?" he whispered.

"The fundamental difference here," Leander said, "is that I spent the past year and a half convinced we would see each other again. I believed. I prepared myself for it. You're the only one that's surprised."

"That's actually not what I meant that time," Axton said. His hand slipped away from Leander's heart and trailed up his chest, to his shoulder, up his neck, to his cheek. "I meant: how are you here with me now, perfect, just how you were?"

"I wouldn't say just like I was," Leander said. "I have some pretty gnarly surgery scars you haven't gotten a good look at yet, and I got a metal thing all up in my leg because the silk screws weren't enough, and overall my squat numbers still aren't quite up to par, and my magnificent muscular ass is a little smaller and less glorious--"

"Perfect," Axton murmured. "Perfect."

"And I mean, I feel like I aged a decade," Leander added.

"You don't look like it," Axton said, with a small smile.

"Come to bed," Leander murmured. "Come to our on loan zebra print bed."

"I can't forget," Axton said, unsteadily. "I could never forget, how you screamed for me when I left, how you threw yourself off the bed and crawled--"

"Shh," Leander commanded gently. "Shh, shh." His fingers stroked the back of Axton's skull and coaxed him closer, until Axton buried his face in the crook of Leander's shoulder.

The weight of Leander, the comforting firm press of his body, his reassuringly broad shoulders and chest, the sweetness of his scent--Axton felt it all, took it in until he felt dizzy with it, disbelief and guilt and gratitude warring inside him, sloshing in his stomach, tasting of acid.

"I'm
sorry
," Axton said, in a taut and breaking voice. "Leander, I'm sorry."

"Shush," Leander chided. "I know."

There was a pause, and Axton pressed his face harder into the spot where Leander's shoulder met his neck, feeling choked by held back tears, face suffocatingly hot. His arms went around Leander's waist, crushing him close.

Then Leander added softly, "I'm sorry, too."

Axton made a wet gurgling sound that was supposed to be a laugh.

"What for?" Axton asked, voice muffled because he refused to remove his face from Leander's skin. "What could you possibly be sorry for?"

"For not getting to you sooner, maybe," Leander said, losing his fingers in Axton's hair, thick and dark and slippery. "For letting you go the first time. For how we still have to run."

"I would run for the rest of my life," Axton said, loosening his grip slightly. "For you."

"I thought you were tired of running," Leander said quietly.

"Anything," Axton said. "Anything instead of losing you."

"Come to bed," Leander mumbled into Axton's hair. "Ax. Come to bed."

Feeling blind and deaf, Axton staggered into the depths of the ship, letting Leander lead him down.

They had acclimated to the rocking of the sea, so Axton knew the waves he felt now were his own. But he scattered kisses down Leander's jaw to his neck, quick in the dark, and felt off balance all the same.

"I thought of you," he said urgently, words rushing out. "Every night, I thought of you, your too loud laugh and your stupid coffee breath, the thickness of your thighs as you straddled me in the night." He had Leander pinned under him now, heedless of the reversal of his actions and words.

Leander made a raw, keening sound in the back of his throat and pushed his shoulders back into the mattress, fingers digging into the bones of Axton's hips, the muscles of his ass.

"I told Dana I would mourn you for a hundred years," Axton breathed, "and I would have, god, Leander, I would have."

"I--" Leander started, but Axton kissed his mouth hard and didn't let him speak.

"Don't tell me not to," Axton said when he pulled back, his throaty voice all velvet. "Don't."

Leander didn't.

Breath ragged, tendons of his neck pulled tight, Leander held on to Axton like a drowning man clinging to his rescuer.

"Everyone thought I was crazy," he said suddenly. "Everyone thought you left me and I just made up the part about you being kidnapped because I couldn't handle it."

"Did you ever think so?" Axton asked, thighs clamped tight around Leander.

"Sure," Leander panted. "One or twice. But it--I just--it didn't matter."

"Because you would have come for me anyway?" Axton asked.

"Because I would find you," Leander said, shuddering as Axton changed their angle. "I would find you. It was the only thing I could do."

Axton dropped down again, to press his lips to Leander's, so they could share their uneven breaths.

"So what's the plan?" Leander asked the next day, legs sprawled out but elbows down on the table, so he could lean across it and look at Axton.

It made his biceps look even better. Leander was terribly, terribly attractive, and he was looking at Axton with intense eyes and solid trust and fully expecting that Axton had a coherent plan. Axton was softly baffled at how he had ended up here, on a boat, with an incredibly handsome and competent man asking him for a battle plan.

"You're being distractingly attractive," Axton informed him.

"Sorry," Leander said, with a complete lack of remorse.

"I'll do my best to work through it," Axton said.

"You're an inspiration to us all," Leander said.

"The plan," Axton started, holding out his hands, "is coup d'etat."

"So you've said," Leander nodded, "and it makes no more sense now than it did the first time."

"We need to oust Dru from his position as alpha," Axton said, "And put Dana in charge."

"Jesus, babe," Leander said. "You can't just go around instigating revolutions and installing dictators. What are you going to do next, build a canal?"

Axton looked at him blankly. There was clearly a reference there that wasn't translating.

"Pan?" Leander hinted, looking at Axton encouragingly. "Pannnn..."

Nope.

"Like the Panama canal?" Leander said finally, into the silence.

Axton shrugged.

"And how that land used to belong to Colombia?" Leander prompted, still hopeful.

"No idea," Axton said.

Leander sighed.

"The US supported Panamanian rebels so that they could build a canal afterwards," Leander explained. "Total gunboat diplomacy move, big stick bullshit. It was a really apt comparison and a good joke, except that then I had to explain it."

"I don't even know about werewolf politics," Axton said. "You can't expect me to know about anyone else's history when I don't know my own."

"Sure, sidestep the ignorant American thing and play the werewolf card," Leander said. "I see how it is."

"I think I may have accidently settled in werewolf Gettysburg," Axton said. "That's how bad at political history I am."

"What?" Leander asked.

"In Montana," Axton said, "you know how I have all this land with no other wolves on it, just me? In what should be prime wolf territory?"

"I figured you just defended it righteously," Leander said.

"I thought I just got lucky," Axton said, "but I mentioned it to Jack--"

"Werewolf historian guy?" Leander asked.

"Yeah, werewolf historian guy," Axton said, "and Jack was all, 'you didn't settle into the site of the last great war, did you? That's up around there in Montana.' And I was all, no, of course not, don't be ridiculous,' but--"

"You totally did, didn't you," Leander said. "You live in werewolf Gettysburg. You built on sacred ground. You bastard."

"I'm just saying, don't give me that disappointed look when I'm not up on your historical context," Axton said, "when I'm not even up on my own historical context."

"Okay, so, we're not building any canals, great," Leander said. "Got it. But why oust Dru?"

"Well, for starters, he's kind of a dick," Axton said.

"If that's reason enough to start a rebellion, we're gonna be fighting for the rest of our lives, babe."

"It's only partially about ousting Dru," Axton said. "It's really about installing Dana."

"Oh, yeah, let's punish him by making him king," Leander said. "Like, I
so
want to reward the guy who broke my legs and traumatized my boyfriend by giving him everything he's ever wanted, how'd you know."

"If you think about it," Axton said, "it's the only thing that might distract him."

"Distract," Leander echoed dubiously. "That sounds really temporary. Once the initial rush wears off--"

"No, see," Axton said, "Dana runs away all the time because he hates himself. Because he can't
be
himself with the pack. And he's got no real power there, so he can just leave whenever, because no one's actually counting on him for anything. That's how he can come after us. That's why he has the time."