Free 18% Gray by Anne Tenino Page B

afore dark.”
    “How come you didn’t stop at the shelter at Tom’s Cabin?” James asked as he stepped back into the little clearing.
    “Full.” The old man gave a strangled little cough.
    James knew as well as Matt these guys were full of it, even without the brain voodoo. They were armed—typical in Idaho—and were wearing standard military-issue camo all-weathers. Not that unusual, just suspicious. They couldn’t be RIA militia, but they could be with any number of municipal militias. Or a poorly funded private militia.
    He also knew what was going to happen. James didn’t want these guys here, but he really didn’t want to send them packing and not know where they were.
    Matt opened his mental dam and confirmed what James was thinking. Looked like they had guests for the night.

Chapter 7

     
     
    M ATT took first watch. Instead of telling James, he let his intentions to do so flow out of his head. James glanced at him and gave him a little nod.
    This was fucking freaky. Partly the idea that James could understand his intentions, but even more freaky was how easy it was to control what he wanted to “tell” James.
    He had completely untapped reserves of talent, looked like.
    He watched James roll up in his bag and settle in. Matt turned off the solar-battery light and leaned against a tree, alert but relaxed. Either their “guests” were faking some very convincing snores, or they were asleep. He’d reset the perimeter alarms, in case of more bipedal, nocturnal visitors. James had his shotgun within easy reach this time. Typical SOUF. Except for that leaving-the-shotgun-with-his-sleeping-bag thing earlier. Matt smirked a little.
    James started to snore. Oh well—at least it was somewhat entertaining. And he wasn’t as attractive when he snored.
    Matt glanced over at James. His forearms were bare even with the temperature dropping rapidly. He only wore a tight old-style T-shirt, and his broad shoulder was impressive even hunched over his chest in sleep.
    And dammit, his hair was still sexy. Matt didn’t recall ever finding any other guy’s hair sexy. He didn’t even like curly hair. Except on James. His Basque ancestry gave him a golden skin tone, and his hair was a few shades darker, sort of brownish golden. Even his eyes were dark brownish gold, heavy on the gold. He should appear monochromatic and blah, but instead he gave the appearance of a lion. He was… tawny. Especially with the hair. It was sort of like a short mane. James even moved a little like a lion. Slow and smooth. Negligently graceful.
    Matt’s mind started to wander into areas better left alone. Like, what would it be like to be run down and caught by that lion, the back of your neck gripped in his jaws while he shoved his cock in you?
    “Fuck,” Matt muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. He was half hard and having bestiality fantasies about the guy who not only persecuted him in high school, but could crack his mind like an egg and make him do stuff he didn’t want to do. Or did want to do, but knew was a very bad idea.
    “You are a sick fuck,” he told himself under his breath. He glanced back over at James. His eyes were open, watching Matt. Matt looked away after a second. Had he been projecting to him? “Fuck,” he muttered one more time.
    When he looked over again, James’s eyes were closed. The snores started up again.
    About four hours later, Matt was watching James again when he came awake suddenly, flailing a little and coughing, like he’d choked on something. “Bug,” James muttered hoarsely, running a hand through his hair and blinking rapidly. Then he ran both hands over and down his face and sat up to face Matt. “Swallowed a bug in my sleep.”
    “They teach you that super-covert wake-up technique at Fort Lewis?”
    James growled. “Time’s it?”
    “0123. Oh that’s weird.”
    “Huh?”
    “It’s zero, one, two, three.”
    James stared at him. “I’m going to take a leak. Then you need to