Page 43 of Bitter Heat
Which meant he could also see Kerry’s dick, balls, and hairy treasure trail making a stripe down his expanding stomach. Quickly, Janus averted his gaze, feeling a rush of blood throughout his body. Forcing himself to breathe normally, and gazing at the jagged line of green, spikey treetops delineated against the blue sky, Janus resisted the urge to have a second look until he couldn’t resist any longer. He hoped Kerry didn’t notice when he stole a long glance at Kerry’s cock again, taking in the entirely omega-appropriate length and heft of it. Certainly, it was nothing to sneeze at, but the size was nothing shocking either. Janus decided Kerry had a very nice package with a sweet set of balls beneath. He found Kerry’s dick kissable, and yes, given enough drink and an open mind, rideable. Plus, who could withstand the intrigue of that lush tangle of dark pubic hair, and the fragile fold where Kerry’s inner thigh met his groin?
Kerry cleared his throat, and Janus darted his eyes up. Had he been caught? Luckily, it didn’t seem so. Kerry was busy staring toward the house, just visible through the trees. “I think you should know a few things about me.”
“I would love that,” Janus said, and then almost bit his tongue, embarrassed to sound overeager. His brain had still been working on the image of cock and balls, and his proximity to Kerry, bringing in regular, nearly intoxicating traces of his delicious scent, made him feel reckless. But again, Kerry didn’t seem to notice.
With a bitter tone, Kerry said, “I don’t have many friends.”
“Why not?” Janus asked, trying to get his head out of the gutter. He genuinely did want to know Kerry so much better, and letting his arousal get in the way would mess everything up. “I’d think you’d have a lot of friends. You grew up here, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—and you can laugh at this if you want—I wasn’t considered properly ‘purebred.’ I’m not ‘true mountain folk.’”
“How is that possible? I don’t understand?”
Kerry’s lips tweaked into a small, bitter smile. “Because my father wasn’t from here.”
“And that’s a problem? Why?”
“Isn’t it a problem in the city, too?” Kerry asked. His well-formed brow lifted, and his tone told Janus that they both knew it was. “Outsiders aren’t welcomed with open arms. Not evenÉrosgápe. Class matters.”
“And it matters out here, too?”
“Of course.You’llnever be from Hud’s Basin, no matter how long you live here,” Kerry said, pushing a hank of wet hair off his shoulder. The divot where his shoulder muscle attached to his collarbone was fascinating. Janus felt an urge to lick the lake water away and leave Kerry’s collarbone glistening with Janus’s saliva instead.
He gritted his teeth, holding back. What was wrong with him? Wolf-god, he needed help. He’d never felt this kind of sexual draw before, and it wasn’t likely to be well-received if he acted on it or even let on that he felt it. He focused back on what Kerry had said, though it was hard to pull his thoughts away from how Kerry’s skin might taste. “Right.” Wow, he sounded breathless. “I’ll never be a native here. But surely you are?”
“No. My father was from Sandhouzen near the city, and I was born there.”
“A nice suburb,” Janus said. He’d fucked an omega or two out that way during one of his less sober periods. He rubbed at his forehead, appalled to realize that he didn’t even remember their names.
“I wouldn’t know. I was only two when pater brought me here.”
“That’s not good enough for the Hud’s Basin crowd?” Janus asked with a small bump against Kerry’s shoulder.
Kerry smiled that. Light glinting against his shiny white teeth. Janus smiled, too. “No. Not good enough at all.”
“I’m ignorant of the ways here, but why not?”
“Well, for starters, I grew up here in the boarding house,” Kerry said, gesturing toward the house. The white clapboard was visible through the trees, as well as the attic windows. At night, the downstairs lights were visible, too. “Which is, by city-standards, pretty slummy, I know, but by mountain-standards, this house is incredibly fancy.”
“I can attest to that.”
“At this point, I’m sure you can. You’ve seen how the majority of us live up here.”
“You said ‘us.’ So even though they don’t consider you to be one of them, you consider yourself part of their group?”
“Now, yes. Back when I should have? No. Part of living here in the boarding house, growing up here, was that I saw a lot of people, and all of those people told me one thing: get out of here when you can because Hud’s Basin is good for a visit, a respite, or retreat, but it’s no place to live.”
Janus frowned. He knew there were a lot of things about Hud’s Basin that he hoped to see improved and changed, and he was only just coming up with some ideas on how to do that, but the mountain and the lake had their charms. The people were friendly and glad to see him whenever he came to call, and there was an earnest sense of community that Janus had never experienced before. He might always be on the outside looking in, but he saw no reason to encourage any of the Hud’s Basin people to leave their home.
Janus nodded his head slightly, hungry for words from Kerry’s mouth, but afraid if he spoke in reply, Kerry might shut up tight like he had been for weeks now.
“So, I left Hud’s Basin as soon as I could. Because I’d bought into the ridiculous idea that I wasn’t really part of this place or its people. And wolf-god’s own truth is that I thought I could do better.” Kerry guffawed, but it sounded even more bitter than all that had gone before. “Better. Ha. I thought I’d dobetter.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Janus was tempted to put an arm around his shoulder, but instead he held still and waited.
When Kerry opened his eyes again, he continued calmly, “The folks around here haven’t ever forgiven me for that. They claim they have. But I know better.”
“Maybe you haven’t forgiven yourself,” Janus offered cautiously. He knew what that was like. All he had to do was think of his behavior after he ruined his relationship with Caleb, walked away and started acting like a heartless tough, and later, the way he’d treated and talked to Xan. The things he’d threatened. The nastiness he’d harbored in his heart. He’d been horrible. Somewhere deep inside, he worried that he must still be that kind of man. And that man was undeserving of love or kindness. That man shouldn’t sit here with a wounded soul like Kerry.
And yet he couldn’t bring himself to get up and walk away. Not now. Not when Kerry smelled so vulnerable, real, and raw. Not when Janus felt like he would do anything to be allowed to cover this man with his body, shield him from the outside, to keep him safe from whatever was tearing him apart inside. “Forgiving yourself is the hardest part.”
