Free Base Instincts by Larissa Ione Page B

into his life three fucking times, he should have been immune to tender feelings.
    But here he was, impressed by Raze’s medical skills and in awe of his ability to care for complete strangers, let alone a succubus who was too jealous to let him be happy.
    Slake definitely needed to shift the subject to something less . . . Fayle.
    “Raze?”
    Raze’s response was a sleepy grunt.
    “I’m guessing I was onto something at the hospital when I asked if your buddies know the truth about you?”
    Swallowing, Raze kept looking at the ceiling, clearly reluctant to go there.
    “You don’t have to answer,” Slake said, but Raze shook his head.
    “Nah, it’s okay. It’s just weird to talk about it.” He crossed his legs at the ankles, and the sheet lying over his hips shifted, revealing a glorious hint of that firm length Slake had loved with his mouth. “They don’t know. I don’t think they’d be assholes about it, but I couldn’t deal with the pity, you know?”
    Slake reached out and traced a swirly glyph on Raze’s arm as it rested across his washboard abs, loving how the dark lines seemed to vibrate at his touch. “Pity that you’re gay, or pity that you can’t be with males the way you want to be?”
    “The latter. Probably.” He jerked his arm out from under Slake’s touch and jammed his hand through his hair. Slake experienced an odd twinge of hurt at the abrupt withdrawal, and it pissed him off. He wasn’t ready to let anyone get into his heart enough to hurt him. “Fuck. I don’t know.” He gave Slake a sidelong glance. “What about you? I’ve never even heard of your species. Are you considered . . . normal?”
    Slake barked out a bitter laugh and settled against the pillows. “Not by a long shot.” He clenched his fists as if he could fight back against the bastards in his community—in his own family —who had not only rejected him, but who had called for his execution. “They accepted me until I turned into something they couldn’t understand: a male who was attracted to other males.”
    The worst part about it was that he’d actually tried to change. And as long as he faked finding females desirable, his family was okay with it. Because yep, lying about who you were was okay, but being honest . . . well, that’d get you dead.
    “I guess I was lucky,” Raze said, a hint of an impish smile on his perfect lips. “My family only had to accept that I was a demon.”
    Slake laughed. “I guess being gay would be the least of your parents’ concerns.”
    “They never knew, but they wouldn’t have cared. They loved me no matter what.”
    Something inside Slake ached for that kind of acceptance, and for a brief moment, he was tempted to tell Raze the whole story, the truth about what he used to be before he was a male who wanted other males. Would Raze understand the choice he’d made?
    Gunther hadn’t understood, and Slake had never gotten over the rejection. Oh, Gunther popped back into Slake’s life every decade or so, begging for forgiveness, insisting that this time, it would be different. This time, he could love Slake for who he was on the outside and the inside.
    It was bullshit. It was always bullshit.
    But Raze . . . he seemed different. Open-minded. Compassionate. Patient. Hell, the guy put up with Fayle, and as far as Slake could tell, the wench was a controlling, intolerant user. The fact that Slake had gone through a life-changing transformation shouldn’t be an issue.
    Should it?
    Inhaling deeply, as if doing so would infuse him with courage, he decided to go for it. If Raze hated him, taking Fayle to Dire & Dyre would be that much simpler. If Raze didn’t hate him . . . well, he’d have some serious thinking to do.
    “Ah . . . Raze?”
    When Raze didn’t reply, Slake looked over, only to find the guy sound asleep, and damn, he was adorable like that. He was so peaceful, his handsome face relaxed, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
    Slake