Precious Boy: Chosen Book 8

  Copyright © 2018 J.D. Light

  Cover Art by

  Covers By Jess

  https://www.facebook.com/Covers-By-Jess-170528563756562/

  Edited by

  Jenni Lea at LesCourt Author Services

  https://www.facebook.com/SupportingYourBoys/

  Prologue

  I couldn't really say I was all that scared. Though for a brief moment, when one of my abductors had fingered my necklace, I'd gotten a bit nervous. But he'd left it alone, and I was positive somebody had noticed I was missing by now. It wouldn't be long before they were using the tracker in the chunky necklace to find me.

  For probably the thousandth time since that smelly jackass who'd snatched me up off my feet in the leap's own backyard had cuffed me to the iron handle that looked to have been bolted into the wall for just such an occasion, I dug the end of my scarred right arm into the metal around my good wrist.

  As before, it only served to dig the painful cuff even more into my already fairly cut up left wrist and add another bleeding cut to the soft scar tissue making up the end of my right arm.

  And hadn't that been a fun surprise for them. They'd grabbed me so fast, they hadn't noticed until they were trying to cuff me to the wall and couldn't find my other hand, that I was the wrong twin.

  The guy who'd been stalking my brother for a few days while he served the patrons in the park from our food truck hadn't realized there were two of us, or that one of us wasn't whole.

  When they'd rolled my sleeve back to try to attach the other cuff after threading it through the handle, they'd all gasped, and Fucktard, as he was aptly named in my head, started stuttering, swearing I'd had all my limbs the day before.

  I'd actually laughed at that point. Especially when a particularly cold-looking man had looked at the old scars on my arm, and in a very dry voice, said, "The motherfucker didn't just fall off overnight."

  I never told them the truth. In fact, I chose not to speak at all. Even when Fucktard punched me in the stomach and told me I was worthless. Nobody would ever pay top dollar for a flawed chosen. They were going to have to turn me into a breeder, because I definitely wasn't mate material.

  Didn't I already know that.

  Sighing, I once again jerked the cuff, growling in frustration. I dug extra hard at the thing with my loose arm, my frustration making me not care about the pain, or the fact that I'd just peeled back a pretty good chunk of skin.

  The large, heavy door separating the dungeon-like room I was being held in with about four others creaked open, making me cringe and press my back to the wall.

  When three men entered almost silently, wearing what looked like black tactical gear, I sagged against the wall in relief. Foster's men. Davis had told me all about them, and how they'd helped catch the remaining cult members and their recruiter about a month ago.

  The two men in back went to the four other prisoners, practically catching them as the cuffs somehow magically opened and the most likely dehydrated humans stumbled, nearly falling.

  The lead one stopped in front of me, and the cuff holding my left arm in the air opened quickly, dropping to my side.

  I was relieved for all of about five seconds before the ache started, telling me the blood was rushing back with a vengeance.

  "Look at your arm, precious boy," the deep voice said from behind the dark mask, making my head snap up from where I'd been gritting my teeth and trying not to yell out. "Did they do this to you?"

  His gloved hands gently pulled my right arm toward him before he lifted it closer to the mask, probably examining it through the visor.

  His voice. Wow. I shivered.

  "Wha…Oh. No. I lost the lower part of my arm when I was six," I said quietly, not sure why I was even allowing him such an intimate look at the ugly thing.

  "Yes. I know that. Marlow informed me of the accident. I mean the cuts. Did they hurt you?" His voice was calm and patient, but I couldn't mistake the cold fury I felt coming off of him.

  "No. Well..." I was a bit nervous. I didn't know this man, but he was asking me about my arm without a bit of judgment or disgust in his voice. "One of them punched me, but the cuts are from where I was trying to pull my other arm free."

  "You should be more careful, precious boy," he said, making me gasp when he bent and scooped me into his arms. "The scar tissue is easier to damage than regular skin. You don't want to get an infection. Wrap your arms around my neck. Grab above where you've cut yourself on your arm and hold on, okay? I'm going to get you out of here."

  We were already moving toward the door when I came out of my strange stupor enough to do as he asked, wrapping both of my arms around his neck and grabbing above the cuts on my right arm with my left hand.

  All of a sudden, my body felt weird, and my heart rate was picking up considerably. I'd been put on albuterol once when I was a kid because we'd stayed a brief stint in Oklahoma, and I'd discovered allergies I hadn't realized I had. The feeling traveling through my body was only slightly different than that. The difference being the butterflies dancing around in my belly and the way my dick was starting to fill.

  Trying not to squirm, because I didn't know if the man carrying me would drop me, I tried to slow my breathing and assess my body, wondering why this man, who I seriously had no idea what he even looked like, could affect my body in such a way, simply by holding me like a child and speaking so sweetly to me in that deep, rich voice.

  After a few minutes of him carrying me around, even the strange arousal thrumming through my system couldn't counteract the endorphin crash making my eyelids heavy.

  "Lay your head on my shoulder, precious boy. I promise to keep you safe."

  And I believed him. Something about this man felt so safe.

  Letting my head fall to his shoulder, I felt my eyes close and the silly first strings of dreams play out in my head.

  Dreams where I was "mate material." Dreams where I had a sweet, caring mate and a handful of beautiful little shifter babies.

  Chapter One

  I smiled down at my sleeping mate as I gently pulled his shoes and socks off, setting them in the hotel chair sitting in the corner.

  When I slid the long sleeved t-shirt up and over his head, I growled slightly before clearing my throat, trying not to gawk at the beautiful exposed skin of my mate's sexy upper body, and then very, very carefully eased the sleeve over the cut up skin of his residual limb.

  Or stump. There were people who had issues with both words. I'd have to ask my mate his opinion. The last thing I'd want to do is offend this precious creature.

  He was actually mine. I'd had more than an inkling he was when I'd seen the picture Foster had sent me from Marlow's phone. Regardless of the fact that he and Marlow were identical twins, I could see the difference immediately. And I'd been inexplicably drawn to the beautiful man in the photo. Just the idea that someone had kidnapped such a precious, innocent boy had sent my wolf into a bit of a frenzy.

  It had taken a considerable amount of control not to jump up and storm the gates like some kind of rookie without an ounce of patience to my name.

  I suspected Foster had known how drawn I was to the man. He'd been wearing that infuriating smirk that had tempted me to punch him directly in the face more than once. I would have ventured to guess others had known also. Probably clued in by the slightly reverent look on my stupid face as I'd gazed down at the sweet sight of Bentley Jeffers, smiling shyly at the camera, holding a mixing bowl in his right arm while stirring the concoction with his left hand, flour smeared on his overly handsome face.

  Swallowing hard, I reached for the button on his pants, wondering as I eased his pants open, how a man who was well over two hundred years old could
shake like he'd never seen a naked man in his life.

  Once I had them down and off his body, I bit my lip and groaned at the sight in front of me. He had the tiniest little boy-short underwear on, showing off his compact, yet lightly muscled body to perfection.

  The outline of his flaccid penis had my mouth watering to put my lips over the defined head and blow a heated breath through the material there. The very idea of his taste against my tongue had me reaching down to squeeze my dick.

  Good thing he hadn't awakened just then. Nothing like being kidnapped by people wanting to sell you for breeding purposes and then waking up in some strange man's bed, nearly naked with said creep standing over you, fondling his dick.

  Needing to get a grip, and doctor the wounds on his arm and wrist, I brought the cover up over his delicious body and turned my back to him, taking a deep breath before heading to the bathroom where I kept the bag with the first aid kit.

  I doctored his wrist first, since his left arm was closest to me. I had to climb onto the bed to doctor the second. He stirred a little as I positioned myself cross-legged on the bed by his hip, lifting the arm with its gashed flesh to my mouth for a gentle kiss to the only spot on the end that didn't look like it would be too tender for even that.

  Nothing looked like it needed stitches, which made me happy, but he was still going to have new scars to add to the collection he'd already obtained from the accident and amputation.

  I cringed slightly when I dabbed gently against the skin with a warm rag, making him blink his eyes open before letting them fall closed again. I managed to get the dry, crusty blood off without needing to drag the rag over his sensitive flesh, but I wasn't done.

  I was going to have to apply antibiotic ointment, which would be fine, but the gauze was going to be a different thing entirely.

  I crisscrossed a few pieces over the end of his arm, covering the skin I'd liberally applied ointment to without incident, but when I made the first full circle of the wrap around the forearm, I had to stick my pinky under the wrap to make sure I wasn't getting it too tight, and I must have brushed something a bit sensitive because he moaned, his eyes opening slowly.

  When he immediately frowned down at his arm, I knew it was probably throbbing, and I did my best to hurry my pace.

  He watched my hands a moment, blinking, but as his eyes moved up my arms to my shoulder and then my face, they got wider and wider, until he was staring into mine, his cerulean blue making me long for a beautiful beach where I could take my gorgeous mate and make love to him.

  Looking quickly back at his arm, he tried to jerk it away, but with a hiss he froze, clearly not wanting to cause himself any more pain.

  "Almost done, precious boy," I said huskily, liking the way his eyes moved from my face to my naked upper body again and again, taking in what he didn't know was completely his to take in.

  At the sound of my voice, he gasped, looking directly into my eyes, blinking. "It's you. You're the one that got me out of that place."

  Smiling softly, I put the last piece of sticky wrap over the very top of the gauze and nodded. "I did."

  Checking out my handiwork, he bit his lip before looking back up into my eyes. "Thank you."

  He looked back down, bringing both arms close to his body, wrapping them around his middle.

  "Of course, precious boy. I couldn't let you get an infection. I honestly considered setting our clothes on fire after we left that nasty place, but thought you might need them, so decided to wash them in really hot water instead.

  Blinking in surprise, he quickly looked down at himself, realizing he didn't have a shirt on. When his legs moved beneath the covers, his eyes widened, and he lifted the blanket, peeking under.

  "Did you undress me?" He asked, his voice rising in pitch.

  Smiling at the hot blush that was spreading over his cheeks, I let my eyes linger on the pretty pink skin I was able to see above where he'd pulled the blanket up under his arms. "I did."

  "And you bandaged my arms." He was still holding them against his body, his right arm hidden under his left. Like it was something he did often.

  "I did."

  He bit his lip, glancing up at me from beneath his lashes, making my body ache with need. Clearing his throat, he swallowed, glancing away from me quickly, before letting his eyes wander back.

  I did my best to hide my smile at his surreptitious glances at my body. The smell of his arousal made me groan, and I coughed, needing to get ahold of myself before I attacked the injured and traumatized man.

  "Are you hungry, precious boy? I ordered Chinese, but then I was worried you might have some kind of allergy I wasn't aware of, so I ordered pizza as well." I squirmed, suddenly feeling more nervous than I had in my whole life. "If you don't like either of those, I'd be glad to order anything you wanted."

  Smiling shyly, probably laughing internally at my rambling, he sat up slowly, using his good arm and his legs to push himself back against the headboard.

  When he winced, I knew he'd put too much weight on his sore wrist, and I quickly moved to help him, wrapping my arm around his waist and scooting him up, making him squeak.

  I pulled back slightly, one arm snugly around his waist and the other braced against the wall over his head for leverage. His eyes were wide when I looked into the beautiful blue depths, and for a second I entertained the thought of pressing him against the headboard and kissing him until neither of us could breathe, but his sudden, slightly nervous scent mixing with his heady arousal hit me, making me blink and slowly release him.

  "Are you okay, precious boy?"

  "Y…yes," he whispered, looking down to where our bodies were still less than a foot apart and then up to where his forearms rested on top of my shoulders. Eyes widening, he jerked his arms down, leaning back against the wooden headboard. "What's your name?"

  Unable to help myself, I brought a thumb up to run along the smooth skin of his cheekbone. "I'm Kinsey Walt, precious boy."

  "Oh!" he said, clearly recognizing the name. "You're Foster's boss. Burke talks about you like you're some kind of mysterious force."

  Raising my eyebrows, I couldn't help but smirk at that. I'd only met Burke once, when I'd been in on the arrest of Burt Avers, but I'd been on many video calls with the interesting leap, and I'd become endeared to all of them. Even the overly energetic pup called Bennett made me smile.

  I hadn't belonged to a pack since I'd killed my father and fled with my siblings when he threatened to sell me mere days after my nineteenth birthday. I probably could have handled myself, but if he'd sold me, my siblings would have had zero protection from the man. Where my powers had already manifested and were far less impressive than my father had hoped, my siblings had all been too young to have gotten or gained control over theirs yet.

  At the time, metal manipulation didn't seem of use to anyone outside of a blacksmith. I don't know what the old bastard had been hoping for, but being able to move bits and pieces of metal around without touching them hadn't been it.

  In the end, it had been good enough to stick a knife straight through my father's temple, but only because I'd been the most scared I've ever been in my entire life. He hadn't been bluffing when he said he was going to sell me, and all I could see in front of me was a future of servitude and no way of knowing how my brothers and sister were faring against the crazed man.

  "I'm the head of the department Foster works for, yes. And Burke likes to tease me because he thinks I'm too serious." Shrugging, but smiling fondly, I continued. "He's probably not wrong. A lot about my job tends to be serious. Sometimes it's hard not to get so wrapped up in how evil the world can be." I ran my eyes over my gorgeous mate. "But maybe now I have a reason to just sit back and enjoy the sweeter things in life."

  Bentley tilted his head, giving me a confused but sweet smile. "Oh. Good. Nobody needs to work so much they don't have time to enjoy their life." After a few moments of me staring at his handsome face, fascinated by the way it seemed to bec
ome more and more pink as I watched, he licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Umm, sir? I really need to pee. Would my clothes happen to be nearby?" His beautiful face flamed red, making me barely hold on to a groan.

  "Please, precious boy. Call me Kinsey." Standing, I moved toward my suitcase, loving the way his eyes skittered across my body as I went. He was trying desperately not to concentrate too much on any one place, but failing to look away completely. "Your clothes are still in the dryer, but if you're modest, you may borrow one of my shirts."

  Clearing his throat, he whispered. "It's nothing against you, K…Kinsey. I've just never been this undressed in front of anyone but my brother."

  Trying not to concentrate on what that meant too much, I smiled as I turned back around with one of my favorite shirts in my hand, smirking when his eyes jerked up from my ass.

  "I'm not offended, precious boy. Not everyone is comfortable being naked." I let him see me take in the skin of his upper chest and shoulders. "I do hope you get comfortable with it sometime, though."

  Blinking, clearly shocked, and definitely confused, Bentley almost missed the shirt that I tossed at him, snagging it out of the air right before it hit him in the face.

  He slid the shirt on, giggling when the sleeves came down past his elbows. When he stood, the material fell, covering his beautiful body to about mid thigh, making me growl imperceptibly. It shouldn't have been as sexy as it was, but the innocently delicious man was definitely making me think the kind of thoughts that weren't appropriate while he was still probably emotionally traumatized from being kidnapped.

  Turning, mouth open like he intended to say something, Bentley's eyes widened, and he gasped, his gaze unmistakably on my obvious erection.

  "Uh, thank you," he said to my dick, licking his lips. "For…uh…letting me borrow your…uh..." Blinking, eyes glued to where my erection was trying to bust out of my pants, he shouted, "shirt!"

  It would be humorous, how he'd seemed shocked by how loud he'd gotten, spinning quickly and scurrying into the bathroom, shutting the door a little too hard. But I was more than a little turned on and saw no hope in sight for the slaking of that arousal.