Page 16 of Tangled in Red

Diablo flashed his headlight. The car moved faster before pulling in beside him. When Brett stepped out, everything in Diablo stilled. The male looked different to him now.

A subtle glow seemed to surround him, highlighting every freckle, every strand of copper hair. His smile, tentative and sweet, hit Diablo like a punch to the gut.

Mine.

“Hey,” Brett said, closing his car door with a soft click. “Didn’t expect another invitation tonight.”

Despite the humidity that clung to skin like a damp cloth, he’d changed into a long-sleeve shirt. Sweat beaded along his hairline, a droplet tracing down his temple.

“Couldn’t stay away,” Diablo admitted, swinging his leg over the bike to stand. In three strides, he closed the distance between them, sliding an arm around Brett’s waist. His head barely reached Diablo’s shoulder. “Missed you.”

Brett’s lips parted in surprise, eyes widening before crinkling at the corners. “It’s only been an hour.”

“Too long.” Diablo traced his thumb over Brett’s cheek, feeling the heat rise beneath his touch. “You change clothes?”

“Spilled something on my other one.” His gaze dropped, a tell that there was more to the story.

Diablo wanted to press, but Brett seemed skittish now. Since he didn’t want his mate to get into his car and leave, Diablo decided to let it go. For now. “Ready to go for a ride? I figured we could just kick it around town, see what trouble we can get into. Maybe get a drink at a tavern I’ve visited once or twice.”

Brett smiled. “A tavern, huh?”

Diablo was dying to show off his mate to his pack, but since Brett didn’t know about his world, it wasn’t as if Diablo could enter Sin & Steel shouting the news.

That wasn’t his style anyway.

“I hear they have good food.” Diablo curled his other arm around Brett, keeping the slim male close. “Cook is decent.”

Cesar was more than decent. The brother deserved a Michelin star. It was the best bar food Diablo had ever tasted.

“What is it with you and food?” He poked Diablo’s rigid abdomen then squeaked, his cheeks turning a rosy red. “I was going to say you have a bottomless pit, but I think I just broke my finger on abs of steel.”

His elegido was good for his ego. Diablo chuckled and gently grabbed Brett’s wrist when he tried to poke him again. His mate whimpered and tried to pull his hand free, making Diablo still.

“What’s wrong?” Diablo kept his voice neutral, though concern spiked through him.

“Nothing.” The response came too quickly.

With Brett’s hand still in his, Diablo pulled the sleeve back to find a bruise in the shape of fingers marring Brett’s pale skin.

“Ay dios mío.” Rage surged through Diablo, hot and explosive. “Voy a matar al hijo de puta que se atrevió a tocar a mi elegido.” I am going to kill the son of a bitch who dared to touch my chosen one.

“I knocked it against my nightstand.” Brett yanked his hand free, taking a step back.

“Because your nightstand is shaped like a hand?” Diablo snarled then closed his eyes, counting to ten. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He opened his eyes, gazing at Brett’s frightened expression.

Taking a deep breath in, Diablo slowly exhaled. Brett was being abused, and he didn’t need a hulking asshole to lose his shit. Right now, Brett needed calm. Reassurance. Not for Diablo to go into berserker mode.

Brett tugged at his sleeve, glancing at his car. “I can handle it,” he said without confidence backing his words. “We haven’t known each other long, and I’m not going to lay my problems on you.”

“My shoulders are massive, elegido,” Diablo said calmly despite the rage boiling inside of him. “They can handle whatever you want to place on them. I promise.”

He wanted desperately for his mate to open up to him, to tell Diablo who was hurting him. Not just because Diablo was going to carve their name into a headstone, but he wanted Brett to trust him enough to confide in him.

Brett sat on the curb between the car and motorcycle. Diablo joined him, draping his arms over his bent knees. A gentle evening breeze rustled through nearby trees, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant summer rain. Crickets chirped in the nearby bushes, their rhythmic sounds blending with distant traffic.

Give him what he needs. This isn’t about your wrath but his safety and comfort.

Diablo bumped his knee against Brett’s arm, careful to keep the contact light. “Gorgeous evening.”

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