Zeke stepped in front of Micah as Kenneth pushed on a section of the wall at the back of the cave. It swung open like an earthen door, revealing a tunnel lit by gas lanterns. “Grab your gear,” Kenneth said, indicating the pile on the floor. They did as they were told, loading up. Zeke noticed that the tent was not among their things. He figured it was a fair trade for a stick in the ear. Kenneth nodded his head and stepped through the door, gesturing for them to follow. Zeke hesitated, then stepped after him.

“Think it’s a trap?” he murmured quietly to Micah.

“No,” Micah said confidently. “I think he really just wants us off of his mountain before Jacob comes back.”

Zeke trusted his judgment. Micah obviously knew a lot more about werewolves than he did, somehow. The tunnel sloped downward at a gentle angle, and had steps carved here and there where the incline grew steeper. It was far more comfortable than the climb up the canyon had been, but the journey was just as long. Claustrophobia began to settle in his chest after the first ten minutes, and he had the sudden urge to hold Micah’s hand. The impulse nearly overwhelmed him when the ceiling dropped a few inches lower, and he actually twitched his good arm in Micah’s direction before he stopped himself. At that same moment, Micah stumbled, stepping slightly off-center on his bad leg, and lurched forward. Zeke caught him by his wrist before he fell.

“Hold on to me,” he said. “You fall down these stairs, you won’t stop for half an hour.”

Micah’s ears turned pink in the low light as he took Zeke’s hand. There were a dozen different ways they could have supported each other, Zeke knew, but he also knew what he wanted. He laced his fingers through Micah’s, and felt Micah’s pulse increase tempo to match his. For a brief, crazy moment, Zeke wondered if Micah felt the same way he did. He disregarded the idea as soon as it entered his mind. If the feeling was mutual, one of them would have acted on it by now. No, this was his personal crush and burden to bear. Micah’s heart was probably racing because of the strain on his injured leg, and he had probably blushed out of embarrassment for tripping, that was all. Probably. Probably...the word rang over again in his head, opening up a world of unreasonable possibilities, and he forced himself to shut it down. Definitely, he corrected. Micah definitely wasn’t interested in growing their friendship into something more physical and risky.

“Where does this tunnel come out, Kenneth?” Zeke called, forcing himself to think about something else.

“Copernicus Highway,” Kenneth called back. “Near it, anyhow. My ranch.”

Copernicus Highway was on the wrong side of the mountains. Zeke’s truck was parked on the other side, and it would be a very long hike to get back.

“Could you give us a ride back around to Herschel Highway?”

“Nope,” Kenneth said after a moment of hesitation. “But I’ll let you buy my quad.”

“How much?”

“How much cash you got on you?”

“Don’t know. Maybe a hundred?”

“I’ll take it.”

The answer surprised Zeke. If the machine ran, it should cost more than that. He wasn’t about to argue, though. It was the difference between walking for eighteen hours and riding for two or three...while straddling a vibrating machine, pressed up against Micah. He couldn’t see a problem with that, except that it might give his secret away. Better out than in, he supposed, if there was no other way around it. The tunnel began to flatten out, and Micah pulled his hand away.

“Thanks,” Micah said sincerely. “Don’t know if I’d have made it down otherwise.”

“Any time,” Zeke said, very sincerely and with a twinge of disappointment. He liked the way Micah’s hand felt in his. He imagined the rest of Micah’s body would feel just as good and better, and wondered if it would be completely insane to make a move. He decided it would be. You didn’t just throw ten years of friendship out the window because you were horny in the aftermath of a near-death experience. That was just irresponsible.

Kenneth led them through a door which looked like an average barn door from the inside, but after it closed behind them he couldn’t find its outline in the side of the mountain. Kenneth led them through a moonlit field toward a barn, carrying the baby close to his chest. He opened the barn doors and flipped on the lights, caught Zeke’s eye, and pointed.

“It’s under that tarp there,” he said. “Don’t want to get straw dust in the baby’s face. Check it out, see if it’s good enough for what you need.”

Zeke did as he was told. The quad looked to be in beautiful shape, barely used. He checked the engine, fluids, and gas. It all looked good. There was even a spare tank of gas in an industrially protected container strapped to the back of the thing.

“It’ll meet my needs just fine,” he said, slinging his backpack off and unzipping the outer pocket. He counted the wad of cash that he kept there for emergencies. “How does one-seventy-five sound?”

“Sounds like you got a deal,” Kenneth said, opening his palm for the cash.

“You know how to drive one of these, right?” Zeke asked Micah. “Because I’m a little handicapped...so to speak.” He gestured at his injured shoulder.

“Yeah, I can drive it,” Micah said. His ears turned pink again, and Zeke wondered if the question had offended him. “Hope your left arm can hold on tight enough, though.”

“Oh, it can,” Zeke said, an unsanctioned suggestion creeping into his tone. He cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s just as strong for brute strength stuff; it’s the fine motor skills it’s useless at.”

“Good,” Micah said. “The strength part, not the...give me your stuff, I’ll load up,” Micah said, sighing impatiently at himself.

“Stick to the pavement,” Kenneth told them gravely. “Like I said... lot of us around these parts. Won’t be a whole lot of car traffic this time of night, but there will be a whole lot of pissed off wolves in the hills. Don’t be idiots. Head south about thirty miles. When the highway splits, take a right. Second off-ramp after that, head west for fifteen miles, then you’ll hit Herschel. You’ll be about forty miles from the canyon.”

“Thanks,” Zeke said, shaking Kenneth’s hand. “Take care. And... give Jacob my apologies for the ear, and tell him no hard feelings about the shoulder.”

“Or the leg,” Micah added merrily.

“Will do,” Kenneth said. “You boys start reading signs, y’hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Zeke said with a grin.

Micah slid onto the quad and Zeke settled in behind him, wrapping his good arm tightly around Micah’s trim waist. He could feel his blood pressure skyrocket, and decided to just enjoy the heady feeling for all it was worth. They buzzed out of the yard and onto the highway, heading south as Kenneth had told them to. Zeke’s crotch was pressed squarely between the top mounds of Micah’s cheeks, and the machine vibrated beneath them. There was no way to hide what it did to him, not if he wanted to avoid falling off the thing. Feeling a little foolish and extremely exposed, Zeke did his best to ignore the fact that his erection was whispering his secrets to Micah’s spine. They went around a sharp curve and Zeke squeezed a little tighter. His heart lurched when his wrist bumped Micah’s waistband and found him in much the same condition. It’s just the quad, Zeke told himself. It’s fast, it’s fun, it’s dangerous, and it’s vibrating. Pure mechanical lust, that’s all.

The way Kenneth told them to go would take them three and a half hours. Zeke didn’t know if he would be able to stand three and a half hours of this. Micah’s skin was smooth and pale in the pleasing curve where his neck met his shoulder, the curve which hovered less than an inch from Zeke’s mouth. Long moments passed as Zeke debated resting his lips there, just to taste Micah for a second, just to see if he was right about Micah’s flavor. He settled for resting his face against Micah’s back, and was surprised by the power of Micah’s heartbeat, which he felt even over the vibrations and noise of the machine they rode. Zeke drove himself half-mad over the next two hours, letting his mind wander, turning every touch into something erotic, every breath into an invitation. By the time the quad began to sputter and wheeze for gas, Zeke would have come if Micah so much as looked at him the right way.

Micah pulled off the highway into a wide spot in the dirt behind a grove of trees and switched the engine off just as it began to cough. “Time for a refill,” Micah said quietly, his body trembling under Zeke’s touch though the engine had stopped shaking them.

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Zeke answered, also quieter than was necessary. “Want me to hold the flashlight?” He didn’t quite know how that question came out sounding like a bedroom proposal, but it had, and he was stuck with it. He told himself that he hoped Micah didn’t notice, which was exactly opposite of what he actually hoped. It was all very confusing, and Zeke wasn’t at all sure what to do about it. Neither of them had moved since they parked. Zeke really should have let go of Micah’s waist, but the touch was so pleasant, in an exquisitely torturous way, that he was reluctant to let it end. Finally, though, he reached the threshold where he would either have to explain why he was still touching Micah, pull away, or make a move. He decided to pull away. Micah sighed, and Zeke had a flash of insanity, his mind flooding with every one of a hundred possible sigh interpretations simultaneously.

He slid off of the quad, and Micah slid after him, then turned to face him. They stood inches apart under the full moon, gazing into each other’s eyes. Micah licked his lips. Zeke swallowed hard, then clapped his hand onto Micah’s face, his fingers trailing in Micah’s hair, his palm cupping the angle of his jaw, in what he hoped (but not really) was a platonic, brotherly expression of affection.

“You saved my life back there,” Zeke acknowledged gratefully.

Micah returned his gesture, touching his face, trailing his fingers in Zeke’s wavy black hair. “And you saved mine,” Micah said, his voice quivering slightly. He licked his lips again, and Zeke’s heart jumped. He tightened his grip on Micah’s head ever so slightly, pulling him millimeters closer. Micah did the same. Their foreheads touched, surprising them both. Neither of them had been paying attention to the top halves of their faces. Millimeter by millimeter, hesitant, terrified, they drew closer and closer until they were breathing each other’s air, until static electricity built up in the molecules between their lips, heating the air itself. Zeke was certain his heart would burst, that the anticipation would kill him, and then suddenly Micah’s lips were on his.

Dry, warm, and soft, just as he had always imagined they would be. Heart leaping, palms sweating, Zeke tangled a fist in Micah’s hair and pulled him in even closer, begging for entry with a flick of his tongue. Micah gasped into his mouth as he opened to him, offering his tongue for twisting and his teeth for nibbling. Ravenous, Zeke took everything he offered and more, drinking him in, devouring him. Micah’s whole body responded, his hands trailing down Zeke’s back to his waist, holding him close, his hips pressing in need-filled little circular grinds against Zeke’s, his belly pressing against Zeke’s with every frantic breath. Zeke’s desire rose up to his throat in a soft growl, and Micah responded with a whimper.

Zeke broke the kiss and moved his lips over Micah’s smooth, angular jaw and down his throat. “You taste like heaven,” he murmured hoarsely. “I knew you would.”