Chapter 18

The highway was strewn with countless small stones.

Over the next forty miles, Yuri watched pebbles strike the windshield in a steady rhythm, leaving tiny pockmarks before vanishing into the blurred landscape beyond the glass. At last, he understood why customers so often arrived at the garage with chipped or cracked windshields. It was simply one of the costs of travel.

The landscape unfolding before him was one he had known only as a faint echo in his father’s stories. It occurred to him that his father, too, must have learned such things from someone else. Neither of the Kiselyov men had ever led a life that allowed for anything resembling a journey.

Yuri had covered long distances often enough, but those drives had never been trips. He had never possessed the leisure to worry about pebbles, and most of his driving had been done at night along dark, desolate roads with no scenery to admire. When death rode beside you, small and inconsequential things ceased to exist.

Now, driving along Highway 1¹ in broad daylight, he watched the world pass beyond the windshield like a film. The road cut through towering mountain ranges, their peaks drawing close and falling away again in a slow rhythm, offering glimpses of jagged, glacier-streaked summits in the distance. More than once, they crossed bridges over clear rivers whose water shone an arresting turquoise. The colors looked as though they had been lifted from a painting.

As Highway 1 curved toward its junction with Highway 93, Cherriot, who had been silent for some time, finally spoke.

“There’s a beautiful lake near here. It was named after a British princess. Have you ever seen it?”

Yuri shot him a sharp glance. No matter how insufferably talkative the man was, Yuri had assumed even Cherriot would eventually exhaust himself. One look at his face proved otherwise. Cherriot had only just awakened. Because he had kept his head turned toward the window, Yuri had mistaken sleep for silence.

“Go back to sleep.”

Naturally, Yuri had never seen any beautiful place like the one Cherriot described. The most beautiful sights he had ever witnessed were his friend and his father smiling, followed by the ordinary peace of Vancouver after he escaped the hell of Saratov. Those memories were enough for him. He would rather work than travel merely to look at scenery.

“Oh, you could tell I’d fallen asleep?” Cherriot rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I must’ve drifted off without realizing.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Yuri had resolved not to let their conversations drag on, but genuine bafflement forced the question out of him. What did Cherriot have to apologize to someone like him for? Grabbing Yuri’s wrist without permission had warranted an apology, perhaps, but Yuri had already decided to let that go.

“The passenger has an important job on long drives,” Cherriot explained. “He keeps the driver awake, hands him snacks and drinks, things like that. It’s basic etiquette.”

Yuri had never heard of such a rule. Taking short naps and switching drivers seemed far more efficient than talking and feeding each other. The manners Cherriot described sounded utterly unnecessary.

“I’ve never heard of that,” he muttered.

Cherriot caught the quiet remark. He stretched, lowered the window all the way, and thrust his fingers into the rushing air.

“Basic passenger etiquette,” he repeated over the roar of the wind. “Whoever gets the ride pays for gas. Whoever sits in the passenger seat keeps the driver supplied with drinks and snacks, talks to him so he doesn’t get drowsy, and sometimes even sings to lift his mood.”

After reciting the rules in his soft, clear voice, Cherriot turned toward Yuri. Their eyes met, and his green eyes curved with his bright smile.

“They’re special Goodnight family rules. So, in keeping with tradition, should I sing for you?”

His smile was as vivid as the rest of him. Sunlight poured through the open window, and the wind tossed his reddish-blond hair around his face until it looked as though the wind itself had taken on color and shape.

Yuri narrowed his eyes and faced the road again. He had already looked for too long.

“If this is supposed to be for the driver’s convenience, I’d prefer you keep your mouth shut.”

“But the weather’s too nice for silence,” Cherriot chuckled and launched into an account of the lake he had mentioned. “Lake Louise is fed by glacial meltwater, so it’s freezing. I jumped in once without preparing myself and nearly gave myself cardiac arrest. There are plenty of beautiful lakes around Banff, but none of them have quite the same emerald color as Lake Louise. That’s why so many people go there, but it’s worth seeing at least once.”

Yuri stared ahead and briefly imagined what Cherriot was describing. Even the rivers they had passed earlier had struck him as beautiful, and merely seeing those already felt like an extravagance.

Traveling somewhere for the sole purpose of looking at a particular view was a privilege reserved for the fortunate. Too many people died with nothing, never once receiving the chance to stand before anything grand. His mother had been one of them.

“From here on, it’s the Icefields Parkway,” Cherriot continued. “If we stay on it, we’ll reach the Paradise I told you about. Lake Louise is beautiful, but it can’t compare to Paradise. I’m sure you’ll like it too.”

The more Yuri spoke with him, the more certain he became that Cherriot could not be understood through ordinary common sense. His apologies, his gratitude, every word he spoke seemed foreign. They were like pieces of sea glass scattered over white sand, each one smooth, each one a different color.

“I don’t know why it matters whether I like it.”

“When I see something beautiful, I like sharing it with someone else.”

Yuri did not understand that feeling. As with the people who crossed great distances merely to witness magnificent scenery, he could only grope through a thick fog for its shape.

“What do you want to do first when we arrive?” Cherriot asked. “We’ve been on the road for more than ten hours.”

Though Cherriot himself had driven through the night, he asked the question anyway. Yuri considered correcting him, then let it pass, wary of provoking some needlessly intimate response.

“I’m contacting Alexei first to find out what’s happening. Judging by the messages he left, he’s already made a plan.”

The missed calls and messages had been troubling Yuri. He intended to contact Alexei as soon as they reached a town and recovered a signal. Alexei must have learned a great deal overnight, and there would surely be plenty to discuss.

But how was he supposed to tell Alexei what had happened last night?

Alexei was the kind of man who finished any job he accepted, regardless of the cost. When he had worked under Igor, everyone had feared the way he sank his teeth into a task and refused to let go. After he became a fixer, that same sense of responsibility earned him the trust of his clients.

Even if Yuri told him the job had to end because Yuri had revealed himself as a rotten man, Alexei might refuse to listen. But Yuri wanted him to abandon Cherriot’s request. Unlike Yuri, Alexei was precious. He had people who would grieve if anything happened to him, and Yuri did not want to see him risking his life as he had in the past.

“No, not that.”

Yuri frowned at him. Cherriot reached into the snack bag on his lap, pulled out a packet of gummies, and tore it open through the middle. He selected a small yellow bear and popped it into his mouth.

“I want to jump into the lake and swim first,” Cherriot said as he chewed. “Then I’ll lie in the sun and drink beer. If I fall asleep like that, I’ll probably sleep straight through until morning.”

Cherriot had a way of making Yuri picture useless things. Yuri ate, slept, and moved only when necessity demanded it. Idle fantasies about trivial pleasures held no meaning for him.

A shower would be good, though.

He had not washed properly in more than a day, and he suspected he might feel better afterward. That was as far as his imagination would take him.

“I don’t care what you do, but you’re not leaving my sight. You said there aren’t many people there, but that doesn’t mean nothing can happen.”

“Understood, Mr. Wolfie.”

At the name, Yuri arched an eyebrow.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Wasn’t that the agreement? I’m Cherry, and you’re Wolfie.”

“You can call me Campbell.”

“Cherry is clearly a pet name. It’s only fair that I get to use one too.”

Yuri’s expression hardened. Cherriot selected another bear-shaped gummy and held it near his lips. Before Yuri could react, Cherriot’s fingers skimmed his cheek.

“An offering for the wolf. Please calm down, Mr. Wolfie.”

Yuri recoiled from the hand approaching as though Cherriot intended to feed him. He snapped his head aside, his voice turning grim.

“Get that away from me.”

“Fine, fine. Next time, I’ll find something better suited to a wolf.”

Cherriot tossed the rejected gummy into his own mouth. The artificial scent of fruit mingled with the quiet sound of his chewing.

Buying snacks had been a wise decision. Along with the gummies, two chocolate bars had already disappeared into Cherriot.

Yuri hoped the food might finally keep him quiet, the way sweets occupied a restless child. Halfway through the packet, however, Cherriot opened his mouth again.

“Ah, I forgot something important.”

“Say it.”

“We need to buy groceries before we head in. It’s a small town, so there’s no liquor store or supermarket. We’ll have to stock up wherever we find a place. It’s inconvenient, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“You’re thinking about drinking at a time like this? It must be nice, having such an easy life.”

“Well, we came all this way to somewhere scenic. I can’t spend the entire time terrified, can I?” Cherriot paused with another gummy between his fingers. “Oh, and we need to stop at a pharmacy.”

“A pharmacy?”

Fortunately, Cherriot immediately dismissed Yuri’s foolish suspicion that the visit might have something to do with his injuries.

“I mentioned it in passing, but my rut is due soon. There won’t be many people around, so I’ll need suppressants. Though, if you don’t mind the noise, I could always find someone in town and spend it with them.”

The explanation was so frank that it bordered on obscene, and Yuri pressed his lips together. At rest, Cherriot’s face possessed the elegance of an aristocrat. Then he opened his mouth and spoke like that.

Yuri had noticed before that Cherriot possessed no reservations. He had proudly exposed his naked body to Yuri and tossed around sexual jokes without hesitation. Yet Yuri was not truly repulsed by him. He had dealt with men who were vulgar down to the marrow, and compared with them, Cherriot’s behavior resembled that of an immature boy.

Rut…

That would undoubtedly cause trouble. No Alpha wanted another Alpha bastard in heat prowling nearby. When Yuri had belonged to the organization, it had been an unspoken rule that everyone disappeared on his own when his rut arrived. Igor and his son Ivan had especially despised Alpha pheromones, and Yuri had sometimes been punished for failing to contain his own strongly enough.

In Yuri’s world, rut was a private humiliation, something to be endured silently and concealed from others. It was not a subject one announced as openly as Cherriot had, leaving everyone around him free to imagine the details.

“We’ll stop at a pharmacy first,” Yuri said.

Imagining Cherriot’s pheromones changing produced a strange reaction in him. Aversion came first. Then, inexplicably, the image of Cherriot changing clothes in the hotel room rose behind his eyes. Perhaps the naked body Yuri had seen against his will had left too vivid an impression.

Whoever dealt with him would have a hell of a time.

Cherriot’s cock was frighteningly large. Given the size of the rest of him, perhaps that was only natural, but what Yuri had seen had looked absurdly heavy even so. If that was its size before he became fully aroused, it seemed unlikely that most people could handle him once he was hard.

Yuri had dealt with many Omegas, and experience had taught him that a large cock did not automatically guarantee anyone’s pleasure. Though not as absurdly large as Cherriot, Yuri himself was far beyond the ordinary range. Omegas who took him sometimes ended up in pain, and when that happened, Yuri satisfied them properly with his hand before sending them away. If he spent enough time opening their bodies, they would eventually produce enough slick for penetration, but Yuri disliked caresses and foreplay. If sex required that much effort, he would rather take suppressants and endure his rut alone.

Foreplay was nothing more than deception. They had met to satisfy a physical urge, yet kissing and putting their mouths on each other’s bodies as though genuine feeling existed between them made his skin crawl.

Cherriot, however, looked like the sort of man who enjoyed melting his partner into helplessness. From the sugar-sweet nonsense he scattered through ordinary conversation, Yuri felt certain of it.

Surely he wasn’t talkative in bed too.

Nothing destroyed the mood faster than unnecessary chatter.

Only then did Yuri realize how unnervingly detailed his assumptions about Cherriot’s private life had become. The mere fact that he had entertained such thoughts felt obscene. His brow furrowed, and his mouth twisted with disgust.

Cherriot noticed his reaction immediately.

“Are you all right?”

Yuri’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. Shame flared as though Cherriot had caught him in the act, and heat spread across the sunlit side of his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You were squinting. The sun is strong, but you’ve been driving without sunglasses just fine, so I started watching you.” Cherriot leaned closer to inspect him. “Let’s buy a pair while we’re at the pharmacy. If you keep ignoring it, your eyes are going to suffer.”

The answer was so far removed from what Yuri had expected that it disarmed him. The thought that Cherriot worried about the strangest things collided with Yuri’s disgust at having imagined something so bizarre about him. About another Alpha, no less.

What the hell is wrong with him?

“I don’t need them.”

“You do. Sunglasses are a daily necessity. Your eyes really will start hurting.”

Yuri considered how best to silence him. Cherriot had asked Yuri to make him less afraid, so threatening him by reminding him what sort of man Yuri was felt wrong. Instead, Yuri chose another approach.

“Are you always this talkative? An Alpha who never stops chattering isn’t attractive. I don’t know how you’ve managed to find partners at all.”

A little sarcasm should be harmless. It was neither profanity nor a genuine personal attack. Cherriot could endure it.

“Wait.”

Cherriot abruptly straightened from his reclined position and leaned closer to Yuri.

Is it working?

“That almost sounds like you’re saying I’d be attractive if I kept quiet.”

Apparently not.

“No. I was telling you to shut up.”

“Am I really that talkative? Hm. I suppose I’m not quiet.” Cherriot settled back into his seat. “But I have a public image to maintain, so don’t worry. I’m not like this with everyone. When I decide to seduce someone, finding a partner is easy.”

There was no sign that he intended to stop talking. Yuri swallowed a sigh and dismissed the boast.

“Judging by the clumsy stunt you pulled when you first saw me, I doubt that.”

“Even a man as skilled as I am makes the occasional boyish mistake when he meets someone he likes.” Cherriot leaned back, turned his gaze toward the window, and smiled faintly. For once, the expression carried a trace of regret. “I never believed in love at first sight,” he murmured. “Then I saw you, and something was different.”

Yuri stiffened.

It was difficult to accept that Cherriot’s shameless, laughing flirtation, which had made Yuri wonder what kind of lunatic is this bastard?, had been even half sincere. Yesterday, Yuri had assumed it was a joke. Today, he no longer knew what to make of it.

“So I’m relieved you weren’t the man I first took you for,” Cherriot continued. “If you had been, who knows what idiotic things I’d still be doing today to seduce you.”

Fortunately, he moved on before Yuri could examine those words too closely. Soon afterward, Cherriot fell silent, and the quiet Yuri had wanted finally settled over the car.

Within that silence, Yuri found himself thinking it was fortunate, as Cherriot had said, that he was not a good man. He knew how to live with being ignored and ground beneath other people’s feet. Being watched closely, considered, and cared for was far more difficult.

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