Blaze (Dragon's Destiny_ Fated Mates Book 4)(8)

By: Wolf Specter & Angel Knots


“Yup.”

He narrowed his eyes, staring at me like my boy was trying to decide how far on the fucking-with-him scale this little heart-to-heart rated, then he started laughing. And by laughing, I mean I wondered if he was going to asphyxiate himself.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, man. Okay, but… seriously? You? Gay?”

I glared at him, thankful that the buzz of conversation and the background music in the dark little bar were loud enough that the guys at the table couldn’t hear us. Not that any of them would ever give Markham shit for being gay—the few fuckwads who’d made that mistake in the past had been shut down hard and fast, and the rest were chill—but I knew if they overheard us it would be a whole ‘nother story for me. Not that any of them would actually care where I stuck my dick, but they’d definitely jump at the chance to break the monotony of army life by getting up in my business about something new.

Jesus. Markham was still laughing. That was definitely going to draw attention to this little private consultation.

“Dude, shut the fuck up,” I said, punching him in the arm. “Here I am, baring my soul to you as I question my sexuality, and this is the shit I get?”

Markham snickered, trying and failing to settle himself down.

“Seriously man, are you gonna help me out or what?”

He nodded, his lips still twitching. Asshole. “Sorry, bro,” he finally managed. “Okay. Right. Of course I will. I’m all for playing Queer Eye with you.”

“You’re blocking my light, Byrne,” Jax whined from behind me, slapping my ass. “You and Marky-Mark gonna sit back down, or are you having a special moment?” He fluttered his eyelashes at us, looking like he didn’t give two shits either way, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to give us some. Of course he couldn’t. The giving of shit was practically an Olympic sport in our unit. “Do you two need to get a private booth?”

“Fuck you, Morgan,” I said, grinning when Jax winced at the use of his first name.

It’s a girl’s name, he always grumbled. What the fuck were my parents thinking? Jax liked to say that he’d only enlisted ‘cause he knew army life would get him out of having to use it, but I knew the truth. He’d been motivated by the same unreasonably idealistic reasons I had, the dumbass. Just one more reason we got along so well.

“I’m going to go grab a replacement round at the bar,” Markham said, wadding up the beer-soaked napkins we’d used and nodding toward the almost-empty pitcher in the middle of the table. He winked at me, fucker, then added, “There is definitely some more drinking required tonight.”

Still, I agreed. Settling back down into the chair I’d left a few minutes ago, I accepted the glass someone slid across the table to me with a grin. Even if he liked to fuck with me, I knew Marky-Mark wasn’t going to air my business in front of the rest of these guys. But the cat was out of the bag now, and even if I couldn’t tell him all my reasons for getting curious, it felt good to have one less secret between us.



* * *



“There can be only one,” I said ironically, looking down at my trusty right hand later that night. “Well, I guess it’s you, buddy. My fated mate. You and me, together forever.”

We’d closed down the bar, and I should really be too tired—or too drunk—for my dick to be this hard. I hadn’t meant to do anything in the shower other than clean the sticky beer off myself from earlier, but.. fuck. No one at the bar had tempted me, but here I was, all by myself again and suddenly hot as hell for no apparent reason.

Must be something in the air over here.

Although if I were honest—and why not be, since it was just me and my personal palm full of relief here—it had less to do with where we were than with the direction my thoughts had gone ever since that conversation with Markham. Not just the gay thing, which had been the part I’d been able to talk to him about, but more the fact that when I thought of getting it on with a guy, what I was really thinking about was a big ass, fire-breathing dragon.

I groaned, squeezing the base of my shaft almost to the point of pain in a pointless effort at stopping the rise of the inevitable. Shit, lately this happened every time I thought about the crazy of wanting to get fucked by a dragon. I mean, Jesus, obviously not a dragon—just sayin’, my personal turn-ons may have been one step beyond NSFW, but even I wasn’t quite that freaky—but still. Lately, the only thing I seemed able to get off on was the idea of guy-on-guy action, with one of those guys being me of course, and the other being the non-existent, unmated-yet-not-evil dragon of my dreams.