Page 12 of Tangled in Red

Tall, burly, with thinning black hair, Jack sauntered into the kitchen, invading Brett’s space with practiced ease. “Frank says you’ve been out with someone.” His breath reeked of whiskey and tobacco. “Got yourself a boyfriend?”

“How’s the game going?” Brett angled his body away, trying to create distance without being obvious.

“Don’t change the subject.” His sausage-like fingers traced along the counter edge, inching closer to Brett’s hand.

He jerked his hand away, but not fast enough. Jack wrapped his meaty fingers around Brett’s wrist, yanking on it.

“Let go of me.” Brett pulled his arm back, only to cry out as pain shot through it from Frank’s rough handling.

“What’s taking so long, boy?” his uncle called out.

“Let. Go.” This time Brett didn’t try to fight. “Unless you want me to yell to my uncle that you’re the reason he can’t get his beer.”

Jack licked his lips, making Brett want to vomit. From the look in his eyes, Jack was debating what to do. Finally, his fingers uncurled, but he didn’t step back, forcing Brett to squeeze around him.

Tears prickled Brett’s eyes as he loaded his arms with cans of beer, the cold aluminum feeling good against his throbbing wrist. Once he handed them to Frank, Brett hurried upstairs and locked his bedroom door behind him, collapsing back against the wood as a tear slipped free.

Swiping it away, Brett glanced around, his jaw tightening when he noticed the telltale signs Frank had rummaged through his room, probably looking for money.

If Brett could afford to, he would move out and never speak to Frank again. Unfortunately, his uncle worked at the hospital as a maintenance worker, and Frank knew how to hold a grudge. Leaving him here to pay all the bills would be one hell of an incentive for his uncle to come after him.

* * * *

Diablo rode through town, weaving between lanes of evening traffic. The engine hummed between his thighs as streetlights flashed overhead in rhythmic pulses. Fifteen minutes into his ride and his mind refused to focus on anything but the redhead’s green eyes and that goddamn nuclear blush.

The memory of their kiss replayed in his mind, those soft lips yielding against his own. The way his slender body had pressed against Diablo’s larger frame, fitting perfectly despite their size difference.

Something tightened in his chest—not pain, but a sensation that grew stronger with each mile that separated them. Diablo flexed his fingers against the handlebar, imagining Brett’s slim arms wrapped around his waist. The memory of that slight body pressed against his back, trusting him completely, sent heat through his veins. Those tentative touches, growing bolder throughout the night.

Sin & Steel stood just ahead, the familiar building a welcome sight after a night that had left him more unsettled than he cared to admit.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through his right hand. Claws shot from his fingertips, gleaming in the passing streetlight before retracting just as quickly.

“¡Mierda!”

His palm spasmed against the throttle. The motorcycle swerved dangerously, tires skidding across the center line before he muscled it back under control, pulling to the curb in front of a closed bakery. Dismounting, he stumbled slightly toward the front of his bike. Under the harsh glow of his headlight, he examined his right hand, turning it over slowly.

Normal. No claws. Just his regular fingers and short-trimmed nails.

Had he imagined it? No. The claws had been real. He’d felt them, seen them. Was his lycanthrope breaking through? Or his wolf?

Nearby, a streetlight buzzed and flickered. Traffic sounds faded to background noise as Diablo focused on his hand, willing the claws to reappear.

Then he flexed his fingers.

Five gleaming claws extended from his fingertips, catching the light in wicked curves before retracting just as quickly into normal nail again. Flexing again produced the same result—claws emerging then disappearing. Not the massive, hooked talons of his lycanthrope form, but the familiar, deadly claws of his wolf.

Ever since the hyenas’ tranquilizer had locked his beasts inside, he’d felt them prowling just beneath his skin, angry and caged. But they’d never been able to break through—not even a partial shift.

Until tonight.

His wolf. Stirring. Pushing.

Wanting.

But why now? What had changed to weaken the barrier?

Brett’s face flashed behind his eyelids—freckles scattered across pale skin, green eyes wide with wonder as they’d kissed goodbye. The memory sent another pulse through Diablo’s hand, a ghost of the earlier pain.

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