Excerpt: Afterthought by Cat Kane

[reviews_and_ramblings]

Afterthought by Cat Kane
Release Date: 09/2009
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
ISBN: 978-1-59578-579-4
Buy Link: http://www.king-cart.com/cgi-bin/cart.cgi?store=linda018&product_name=Afterthought&return_page=&user-id=&password=&exchange=&exact_match=exact

Blurb: Telepath Vance Gregory never thought that taking down high-powered underworld Path Marcus Rose would be easy. When his enemy proves to be a far more formidable danger than Vance anticipates, he has no choice but to join forces with Ayan, a beautiful low-level Path with mysterious connections to Marcus. Captured by Vance's organization during a bungled ambush on Marcus, Ayan has no intention of helping them achieve their ends. But Vance isn't like anyone he's known, and given a glimpse of how life with him might be, Ayan agrees to Vance's plans. Neither of them expect the intense attraction, nor the explosive mental bond it forges. And when Ayan's powers begin to spike out of control, neither of them can face up to the dangers that threaten to tear them apart. With Ayan at his side, Vance sets out to remove the threat Marcus poses to the Path community. But Marcus isn't that easy to kill, and when Ayan becomes vital to Marcus's continued existence, Vance has to choose between the enemy he hates or the man he loves.

Excerpt:

The OPS had a couple of safe houses dotted around the city precisely for situations like these. None of them were close enough, and Vance wasn't sure he'd trust them anyway.

At the first cheap motel that rolled up on the outskirts of the city, he pulled over.

"You should call the police," Ayan said, the numb sound of his voice startling Vance.

"They can't help us."

"For the car." Ayan corrected. "You should tell them where it is so the owner can come pick it up."

Vance shook his head. Even now, Ayan didn't understand the magnitude of the mess they were in.

"Later," he lied. "Once I've arranged for someone to pick us up. No point leading them straight to us."

A cold wind whipped around them as they got out of the car, though the rain had stopped. Ayan huddled into his coat, and Vance struggled with the urge to pull him closer, wrap Ayan in his arms to keep him warm. Now wasn't the time.

One quick tweak of the desk clerk's mind later and they were letting themselves into a bland, beige motel room. He crossed the threadbare carpet to close the drapes, but the sounds and lights of the highway just beyond the window cut through the paper-thin curtains anyway. At least it hid the worst of the stains, cigarette yellow on the ceiling, and things he didn't even want to consider on the upholstery.

"Sorry." He offered, unsure why he felt the need. "It's not the Ritz."

Ayan shook his head, trying gamely for a small smile, and Vance figured that was as good a reward as any. "It doesn't matter."

"We don't even have a minibar..."

"I'm not much of a drinker."

Vance shrugged gingerly out of his coat, wincing as the torn fabric of his sleeve snagged on the drying blood and tugged at the wound.

Ayan watched, eyes wide as though he hadn't quite noticed before. "You're hurt."

"It's not a big deal. I just need to get it cleaned up." He managed a smile for the concern. "What about you?"

"Ah, I'm okay."

Vance tilted his head, before crossing the room toward Ayan. Stopping close enough to feel Ayan's breath, warm against the dampness of his shirt, he reached up, brushing a handful of Ayan's hair back from his face. The platinum strands were matted and tangled by the rain and wind, and the bruise that curled across Ayan's cheekbone like a crescent moon was turning a livid shade of purple.

Before he could stop himself, his fingers had curved gently against Ayan's cheek, fingertips ghosting across the bruise as though he could soothe it away by touch alone. Ayan turned his head, leaning slightly into the caress, breath warm against Vance's skin this time.

"Beautiful..."

He didn't even notice he'd spoken aloud until Ayan chuckled softly, depreciatingly.

"Well you are," Vance insisted with a murmur.

Ayan shook his head slightly, but held his gaze, eyes almost iridescent with shimmering gold. He'd never seen eyes like that before.

His lips sought out Ayan's before Vance's thoughts could catch up. Ayan made a soft sound of surprise at the first touch, and for a moment Vance was convinced he'd pull away and say no. He couldn't tell, he was floundering in uncertainty and the unfamiliarity of the sensation unnerved him. It was an easy thing to rectify, but he stubbornly refused to read Ayan. That was something Marcus would have done.

He was about to let go when Ayan moved closer, lips nuzzling Vance's softly.

It should have been all right now, he reasoned. It was all over. Except something still muttered in the back of his head, telling him it didn't quite believe that was true.

There was no flinching this time when his hand wound into Ayan's hair, keeping him anchored as the kiss deepened. There was no tension in Ayan's hands as one gripped Vance's good shoulder, the other splayed against his chest, the friction of it magnified by the cool fabric of his shirt.

Ayan tasted sweet and addictive, like an exotic fruit. Vance explored with slow sweeps of his tongue, savoring every moment of the flavor, savoring the sounds Ayan made in the gasped breaths that puffed against his mouth.

Unbidden, he felt the jagged, broken glass memory of Marcus's mind touching his own.

Ayan stared at him, lips parted and puffy, as Vance drew away sharply. Even as a part of him ached with the need to return to that embrace, it was better not to get involved. Better to chalk this one up to a loss and move on.

"I'm going to go shower," he said, turning from the suddenly claustrophobic bedroom to the freedom of the closet-sized bathroom. "I won't use all the hot water, you can have it when I'm done."

He didn't wait for Ayan's response. He could have heard Ayan changing his mind through the walls that separated them even after he closed the door, with no telepathy involved. Still, he'd have chosen to ignore it.

If there was any hurt there, any disappointment, any comparisons to Marcus, Vance wouldn't forgive himself.

He'd have undressed in the bedroom if Ayan hadn't been there. It took a contortionist to peel off the shirt with one good arm while trying not to smack himself with the edge of the shower stall, or back up against the sink. Piling his clothes untidily on the closed toilet seat, he was still grumbling to himself as he got into the shower.

The water wasn't just hot, it stung like little molten darts as it pummeled his skin, washing away the blood and the rain. The force of the jets stung his arm, but with the mess cleared he could see it was just a shallow flesh wound, something easily bandaged up and dealt with.

Hands braced against the tiled wall, he closed his eyes, letting the water sluice down through his hair, over his face.

Marcus was gone. Vance should just forget about him.

He didn't hear the door open, just felt the cold draft of displaced air as the steam around him sought to make its way out into the bedroom beyond.

"Ayan..."