Jacob Michaels Is... The Omnibus Edition: A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Books 1 - 6

by Chase Connor

  “You’re going to talk to Andrew, find out which pack this lady belonged to—if she was even a werewolf—and then tell them you killed her? Are you crazy? They won’t care that it was self-defense. And after you tell ‘em, you better hope you can burn a whole bunch of wolves at one time, because they’ll just attack you. No questions asked.”

  “What?”

  “If Andrew takes you to meet her pack—or even just her Alpha—they ain’t gonna take kindly to her killer amongst them, regardless of the circumstances.” She said. “You’ll be putting a target on your back. And mine!”

  “That kind of changes things.” I sunk into my seat.

  “I thought it would.”

  “So…what do we do?” I looked up at her. “Besides act like it never happened, I mean.”

  Oma shook her head in exasperation.

  “I mean, can’t I at least go see Andrew and tell him we think some female werewolf wandered up naked and burnt and died on your lawn so he can tell the…pack…or whatever? So at least the police might find out who she was? I don’t have to say I did it.”

  “Where’s the other two wolves, Robbie?” Oma snapped.

  “The…”

  “The other two wolves that was with her last night?” She clarified. “If that’s really who she was.”

  “Um…”

  “Exactly.” Oma gave an angry laugh.

  “Them other two wolves already know where, who, what, when, where,” Oma said. “Obviously, they’ll know what happened to her and can tell her kinfolk themselves.”

  Ernst was against my leg, his arms wrapped around my calf. I laid a hand on his shoulder to give him comfort. Lena was still hiding behind Oma but was looking up at her, terrified.

  “They may just leave it at that, Robbie.” Oma sighed. “But we may have more visitors with paws before it’s all said and done. I don’t think you need to go lookin’ for trouble when it’s probably already headed our way.”

  “Are you serious?” I gasped.

  “Well, werewolves like to keep themselves secret, sure.” She chewed at her lip. “But those fuckers sure can hold a grudge. And they pass those grudges down through the generations. The chances of them forgetting about you barbecuing one of their pack members last night are pretty damn slim. Don’t know that they’ll start any trouble—but they sure won’t back down from any if it’s brought to their doorstep.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Mm.” Oma nodded and picked up her coffee mug. “So, drink your damn coffee and act like you’re Helen Keller. I hear you know a thing or two about acting.”

  She said the last part with a smirk. I wasn’t in the mood to joke.

  Chapter 4

  Lucas’ house smelled heavenly when I walked inside without even knocking at dinner time. If I hadn’t known better, I would have expected that he was making us a Sunday roast for dinner. Rosemary, and potatoes, and meaty, juicy flavors permeated the air. My boyfriend smiled at me from the kitchen as I closed the front door behind myself and tossed my coat on one of the hooks by the door. “Hey, babe!” he shouted as he smiled widely and I wiped my feet on the rug just inside the door.

  The house Lucas was building just felt like Lucas. Lots of wood, rustic, rough corners, simple yet elegant in a masculine way. Utilitarian but not in a sterile or nondescript way. It was merely the house of an outdoorsy guy who also was more concerned with function than style. When he wasn’t cooking it smelled like all of the types of wood he had used to construct the house and…Lucas. I loved the smell of Lucas. He smelled like the wild yet clean, masculine yet fresh, exciting yet peaceful. Whenever I smelled him, it was like my brain had been fried and I couldn’t make a rational decision. All of my neurons were firing wildly at all times, and I could only focus on him, not what was next or next after that. That was Lucas’ house. It was a place where thinking was not required. Existing was all one had to do.

  Within the walls of Lucas’ house, I felt that I could slide up to the kitchen bar in front of him, sit down on one of the stools, watch him cook, and I had nothing else with which to concern myself. I could just be Rob Wagner, and nothing else mattered. Besides the fact that Lucas was so easy to like, that was my favorite thing about him. I didn’t have to be anyone but me. In fact, without so much as saying it, Lucas demanded that I just be Rob. He didn’t want Jacob Michaels or Robbie or Robert. He wanted Rob.

  “It smells…good in here,” I said as I walked into the kitchen area.

  “You sound surprised.” Lucas grinned at me as he wiped his hands on a hand towel he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

  Jeans that fit him perfectly. Lucas wasn’t wearing a shirt. It was all just too distracting. As I sat down on the barstool, trying to control myself, he reached across the counter, took my shirt in his hands and pulled me forward. I met his lips with mine, more than happy to kiss him. Having Lucas’ lips against mine was something that always made me feel safe. Of course, that thought made me feel anything but safe.

  “You taste better than the food will, I’m afraid.” He whispered against my mouth as he pulled back just enough so that he could speak.

  “I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” I replied throatily.

  “I could be a world-renowned chef and still not be able to cook something that tastes as delicious as you.”

  “Are you trying to get an appetizer?” I teased, my lips brushing against his.

  “Are you offering?”

  “How important is it for you to keep an eye on the food without burning it?”

  Lucas deflated with a grin. “Kind of important.”

  I pulled away and sat on the barstool.

  “I guess you’ll have to settle for dessert.” I grinned evilly at him.

  “I hope you can eat quick.”

  “Don’t I always?” I asked.

  “Okay, okay.” He waved his hands between us. “Don’t distract the chef!”

  “You started it.” I teased.

  Lucas winked at me as he checked pots on the stovetop and glanced through the window of the oven. Next, he produced a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured us both half-glasses, setting one carefully in front of me as he took a sip of his own. Picking up the glass by the stem, I looked over at my boyfriend, wondering what it was about Lucas that made me want to throw caution to the wind. What made me want to turn all of the burners off, flip the oven off, then bend him over the counter and—

  “You look distracted.”

  “Do I?” I sipped my wine.

  “A little bit.” Lucas bit his lower lip, trying to hide his smile. “Do I need to put my shirt on?”

  “Do you ever?”

  “You tell me.”

  “You could stay naked all of the time, and it wouldn’t bother me,” I replied. “At least…not in a bad way.”

  “Well,” Lucas set his wine glass on the counter and reached for the button of his jeans, “I could always—”

  “Do you think there’s value in talking to Andrew about the werewolves from last night?”

  Lucas’ fingers froze as the button popped out of place and he looked at me sternly from across the kitchen counter. I chewed at my lip, chastened without having Lucas say a word, as I grabbed my wine glass and took another quick sip. Lucas’ hands slid away from the waist of his jeans to rest at his sides as he considered me from the other side of the kitchen counter.

  “Really?”

  “Just a thought.” I cringed. “You can keep stripping. I was paying attention, I swear.”

  “I am not taking another single article of clothing off until you explain yourself.” Lucas laced his arms over his chest. “You are on warning, mister.”

  “So, you’re saying if I came over there right now and—” I smiled wickedly.

  “Don’t you dare try to change the subject.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  “Why do you want to talk to Andrew?” The way he said the name told me that Lucas still wasn’t over the fact that Andrew and
I had gone on a date.

  Sure, the date had been horrible, and Andrew had been an insufferable douchebag throughout—not to mention the fact that he had turned into a wolf at the end and had tried to make me a nummy little treat. Regardless of the circumstances, Andrew was a man who was interested in me. Or, had been at one time. The status of present-day levels of interest was unknown.

  “He’s a werewolf,” I answered, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. “Only one I know. I figured he’d know something about whether or not that woman this morning was actually a werewolf, too. Or if he had heard anything through the grapevine about what happened last night. Ya’ know?”

  “Rob.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t talk to the wolf.”

  “The Wolf now is he?” I teased.

  “He’s trouble.”

  “And you aren’t?” I waggled my eyebrows.

  A break appeared in Lucas’ stern façade, and I knew that I had the upper hand in the discussion. Just keep him on the ropes and don’t mention talking to Andrew anymore, Rob.

  “I’m not that kind of trouble.”

  “You’re the best kind of trouble.” I licked my lips. “I like your kind of trouble, babe.”

  “Stop that.” Lucas averted his eyes, a smile coming to his lips.

  “We should see how much trouble we can cause after we eat this delicious dinner, babe.”

  “Rob.” It had been his attempt at being firm, but he didn’t quite manage.

  “I bet it won’t taste as good as you, though,” I added.

  “Okay.” He shook his hands crazily. “Stop it. You’re distracting me from cooking dinner. I need to pay attention to what I’m doing, or we’ll have to eat charcoal.”

  “You used noodles and not, like, slices of zucchini, right?” I teased.

  “I’m not a monster.”

  “Good,” I said. “Now, how about you give me a kiss, and we’ll forget all about everything but dinner and each other?”

  Lucas rolled his eyes but eventually leaned across the counter, presenting his lips to me once again. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his, trying to forget all about Andrew and everything on my mind about the naked burned up lady, werewolves, Kobolds, hooded people in the backyard—all of it. As I pulled back from Lucas, he was grinning, his eyes slowly opening to look at me. He gave me a wink, and I reached up to take his face in my hands so that I could kiss him once again, but deeper.

  It was dark outside.

  Lucas was slowly walking up the steps of the bleachers in the stands of the football stadium.

  He smiled at me.

  “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  Something like talking under water.

  More talking.

  “Did you…want someone to keep you company?”

  Then we were running through the woods. His hand was in mine, and we were scared. Both of us were gasping for breath and scared out of our minds. Then we were standing in the dark of the woods, looking around frantically.

  “Did you see that?”

  I pulled back from Lucas, my eyes wide. His lips were still pursed, and his eyes were still closed. So, I leaned forward and gave him another quick kiss on the lips, then immediately withdrew my hands from his face. I sat back on the barstool, affixing a smile to my face.

  “You still taste better than anything.” He opened his eyes to smile at me.

  “Still do.” I nodded.

  “Always.”

  I gave a nervous chuckle. “Always.”

  Chapter 5

  Carlos looked as glamorous outside of drag as he looked when he was dressed as Carlita. When I had gone to the center, under the guise of helping out the community, I was hoping to run into Andrew. After Oma had thrown a fit about going to see Andrew, and Lucas had made it clear that he would never be okay with the idea, going directly to Andrew was a decidedly bad idea. If I went to his office building—or God forbid, found out where he lived and went to his home—I’d have a grandmother and a boyfriend out for blood. Running into him at the LGBTQIA center was pretty innocent, though. It couldn’t possibly be my fault if Andrew and I showed up at the center on the same day.

  It wasn’t the best plan I’d ever come up with, going to the LGBTQIA center in Toledo to find Andrew, but my head hadn’t been right for half a day. When I had touched Lucas’ face—my boyfriend’s face—I had the same experience I had had with Teenage Ghost Rob. And Ernst. Were these memories? Alternate realities? Dreams? Hopes? Wishes? What were these odd memories flashing through my brain?

  After dinner, Lucas and I had had sex. A lot. In fact, we had fallen asleep so late in the night that I was afraid Lucas would not get out of bed for work in the morning. Even if he did, I knew he’d be sore. We had done it every which way we could think of, though my mind had been somewhere else the entire time. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed having sex with my boyfriend—he was pretty stellar at it—but I couldn’t help but feel a cluster of nagging thoughts and questions in the back of my mind.

  When morning came, Lucas and I were roused by his alarm, and I had decided that it would be a good day to find Andrew. Lucas would be at the school, teaching young, fertile minds, and then helping at the hardware store, so he wouldn’t be able to check in on me. Oma didn’t follow me around much, thus avoiding her wouldn’t be an issue. Ernst and the other Kobolds didn’t leave the house as far as I knew, so I had to take advantage of the situation. Andrew might show up at the center. And, if he did, I would be there waiting with a laundry list of questions.

  However, the only person there when I arrived, shortly after breakfast, was the center director, who promptly put me to work stuffing envelopes again. Apparently, the LGBTQIA community had need of a lot of reading material. I wanted to feel snarky and put out by the whole thing, but as I stuffed envelopes, I found myself wishing that someone had been sending out brochures and information to me when I was a teen—hell, even as an adult. It would have made everything about being a gay teen, and then a gay man, so much easier. At the very least, I wouldn’t have felt so lost and alone. The thought that maybe one of my envelopes might be opened by a confused and lost teen caused me to smile as I performed the task. I had been like that, all alone, for an hour, before Carlos walked in the door.

  Carlos was wearing jeans and a sweater, a stylish jean jacket—all of it well fitted to his slim body—a scarf around his neck that practically had its own wind machine, huge sunglasses, a large tan purse…and Louboutins. Apparently, even out of drag, Louboutins were acceptable footwear to Carlos. It made me smile. Not that he was wearing the shoes I had bought for him, but that he enjoyed them so much. He did look good in them, so why not wear them any chance he got, I figured.

  “Well, look at you!” He whipped his overly large sunglasses off and smiled over at me as the door shut behind him. “I didn’t think I’d see you here again, Rob, honey!”

  I smiled as Carlos sashayed over to the table in his fancy heels. Carlos whipped his scarf off with a flourish and deposited it onto the table along with his sunglasses and purse. As he slid into the folding chair across from me, I continued stuffing envelopes but turned my focus to him. The fact that Carlos had remembered my real name and hadn’t called me “Jacob” made me smile internally. Most civilians weren’t so conscious of what they called me and when they called me it. Leave it to a drag queen to know when to use an alias and when not to—wise and magical creatures, drag queens.

  “I thought I’d come help out a little today,” I replied.

  “Well, aren’t you a doll?” He replied as he grabbed some of the envelopes and inserts to help out. “I hadn’t seen you or Esther Jean since you first came here, so I figured you weren’t coming back. Of course, I should have known better. I’m sorry for thinking you thought you were too good for us, baby.”

  Carlos gave me a wink from an eye that seemed to perpetually twinkle, causing me to laugh.

  “How are you, Carlos?”

&nbs
p; “Oh, lawd, help me.” He fanned his face with the envelope in his hand then went about stuffing materials into it. “I have been trying to get a space to do my drag show at because the last place—Pixxxies?—it shut down a week ago. Apparently, after fourteen health code violations, they just shut you down. Who knew?”

  “Fourteen?” I coughed.

  “Well,” Carlos sighed, “it might have been more, honestly. They didn’t have real bartenders so things weren’t as clean as they should have been. You’d think with all of the damn customers and money I brought through that door twice a week, they’d have had money to get at least one good bartender. Sleazy ass Enrique—he’s the piece of shit who ran the place?—well, he cared more about money than quality. He never paid me enough to even keep a one-legged hooker in fishnets, and that’s why all my wigs look like they were harvested from JC Penney mannequins. Bastard. Didn’t even get paid for my last show.”

  “Wow.” I shook my head. “That’s…well, that’s fucked up.”

  “To say the least.” Carlos nodded, his lips pursed. “I find that motherfucker the soles of these heels will get even redder.”

  I laughed loudly.

  “How you doin’, baby?” Carlos reached across the table to swat the back of my hand. “You’re lookin’ like you might have put on a pound or two. You’re simply glowing, baby.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled. “Oma has been making sure that I eat.”

  “Vieja loca can throw down in the kitchen, I’m sure,” Carlos responded. “All old women can. Even the white ones. So…that doesn’t explain the glow…”

  I shrugged.

  “Mm.”

  “What?” I chuckled.

  “I think you might be getting’ a lil’ sum sum lately, that’s what I think.” Carlos nodded as if affirming something to himself. “You have that, ‘I’m getting laid regularly’ look to you.”

  Whether or not I liked it, I felt myself blush.

  “I knew it.” Carlos was nodding again. “Baby, ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ the bottom knocked out every now and again. Or doin’ the knockin’. Just play safe. You can’t be volunteering at the center and not know how to take care of yourself. You need some condoms?”