Undercover work sucked. As a shadow hunter for the Umbra, Justice Cameron was used to sliding into one dangerous situation after another. Infiltrating the motorcycle club, Pride of Kings, to wrap up two outstanding cases should have been quick and painless—turns out it was anything but. Justice didn’t count on Ethan Stone’s son, Xavier, to complicate his assignment.
Xavier Lennox doesn’t care for the ‘lion pride’ way of life, so the scarred, shy loner keeps to himself, living a quiet life in a small cabin at the edge of the MC compound. He ‘fixes broken things’, and no one is more broken than Justice. When Xavier finds Justice beaten on his doorstep, he never imagined he would feel such a potent connection. The big, gruff alpha fascinates Xavier, and it turns out, the attraction is mutual.
The shadow hunter is there for one reason only. No time for complications. No time for desire...or love. Or so he tells himself, because he’s there to mete out...cold, hard justice.
Be Warned: m/m sex
Justice had slept last night with a cold compress on his right eye and it must have helped, as he opened both and stared at him. His eyes were a dark brown, darker than his own, but lying this close he could see flecks of gold in the irises. Beautiful.
“You slept all afternoon, and I found Levon asleep on your chest. It seems you’ve made a fast friend.”
Justice stroked Xavier’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Not just the cat, I hope.”
He leaned in to the touch. “No. Not just the cat.”
Justice explored the raised scars on his left cheek. “How did this happen? Looks like...”
“A stove burner?”
“Yeah.” Justice frowned. “Who hurt you?”
Something warm and tender bloomed inside Xavier. Justice cared. Hope also bloomed. Justice spoke the truth at breakfast. The mate connection could be accepted or rejected. Oh, God. How he wanted them to both accept it. Such a soul bond should not be ignored. It should be nurtured and cherished.
“My stepbrother, Rex. We were eight. You know kids. I invaded his space, touched his things. Actually, I think he was sorry afterward, in his way. He hasn’t hurt me since. He has...anger issues. Amongst other things.” Xavier laced his fingers through Justice’s. Such big hands. So warm. So gentle. Instinctively, he knew Justice would never harm him physically. His heart was another matter.
“Your brother sounds like an asshole.” Justice growled.
“He is. Here’s the surprising thing. I love him in spite of it. Though we’re not close and have very little in common, we are blood. Tainted blood, it seems.”
Justice’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”
Xavier laughed brokenly. “Not sure I want to say. There is something between you and me and if I tell you, it may kill it. I know this is all too fast, but it’s the shifter way. I want you in my life, Justice. I want us to maybe...at some point...become mates.”
That Justice did not expect. At least, not yet. Sure, there was something between them, but...mates? Admiration took root deep inside Justice. Kudos to Xavier for just putting it out there. No bullshit with this guy. It was refreshing, but how to answer? Maybe he should take a page from Xavier’s book and be honest. After witnessing the mate connections between the Stones and the McNamees, seeing the love, respect, and the mutual desire which pulsated all around them, he began to long for such a commitment in his life. Suddenly, his undercover position became as complicated as shit.
“I’m not used to factoring in another person in my decisions. Nor am I used to baring my soul. Mates? Jesus, big step. I’m not dismissing it. But I think we should get to know each other better first.” Justice winced inwardly. How friggin’ lame.
“I agree.” Xavier leaned in and kissed him. The electric charge that shot through Justice at the gentle pressure of Xavier’s warm lips stunned him. Justice moaned and deepened the kiss, and his cock grew hard. God, he ached for this guy.
“Lay back. Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I care. I will be gentle, I promise. Let me...love you.” Xavier whispered.
Justice slammed his eyes shut so Xavier could not see the yearning in them. No one, in all his fifty-two rough-and-tumble years of living had ever said those words to him. He let the potent, emotional words seep into the very marrow of his bones.