Better than Perfect

by Lynn Hagen

  Then Brady bit him. He sank his teeth into Leslie's shoulder as he growled, his hips moving faster as Leslie's breath whooshed out of him. But he didn't have time to be shocked. The level of pleasure that shot through Leslie had him crying out as he came. He clung to Brady, stunned that he hadn't even touched himself and his orgasm had ripped through him.

  Leslie's orgasm was epic, but he felt something strange inside him as Brady licked the wound. He couldn't quite explain the weird feeling of being connected to Brady, so he ignored it as Brady roared his release.

  Brady lifted his head and looked into Leslie's eyes. Leslie simply stared back. Why did Brady look so stunned? His baby blues were wide as he slid a hand down his own face and eased out of Leslie's body.

  He sat on the side of the bed, and Leslie stared at this back. Then Brady turned and looked down at him as he sighed.

  "What?" Leslie pushed himself to his elbows. "What's wrong?"

  "You know I'm a wolf shifter," Brady said.

  "I'm trying not to think about that," Leslie confessed.

  "In my world, we have something called mates." Brady turned and crawled in next to Leslie. He lay on his side and propped his head on his hand. God, he was sexy as sin. Leslie was wiped out, but the thought of going another round had his cock jerking.

  "Okay," Leslie said. "That must mean soul mates, right?"

  Brady arched a brow. "Most don't make that connection so easily."

  Leslie turned onto his side and parroted Brady's pose. He hoped like hell that Brady didn't tell him he was mated or had a significant other. He'd remove the bastard's balls if that was the case. "Why are you bringing this up?"

  "Because"—Brady leaned forward and gave Leslie a quick kiss—"you're my mate."

  Leslie's breath froze in his lungs as his jaw dropped. He shot to a sitting position, then scooted from the unmade bed. When he was on his feet, he jabbed a finger toward the bedroom door. "I knew you were an asshole, but I didn't think you were insane, too. Get out."

  He'd just met Brady and didn't like him very much—although the sex had been amazing. But for Brady to lie there and tell him they were soul mates was preposterous.

  Brady got to his feet. "You felt the connection. Don't you dare stand there and say you didn't."

  Leslie had felt it, but no way in hell he was admitting to that. He hadn't even absorbed the fact Brady was a wolf, and now he was saying… "Get out."

  Brady grabbed his clothes and walked out of the bedroom. Leslie followed to make sure he actually left. Brady turned and glared at him. "You're my mate, Leslie. You're mine to protect and cherish. I'll go, for now. But if I see you with another man, I'll gut him where he stands."

  When Brady walked out the front door—his clothes still in his arms—Leslie slammed it shut and leaned his back against it, looking at the ceiling.

  "This has been one fucked-up day." But as much as Leslie denied what Brady had said, he knew deep down that the guy had been telling the truth. Brady had just walked out and already Leslie missed him.

  He went to his room and stared at the bed before deciding to sleep on the couch.

  * * * *

  "It's a charm," Alastair said as he looked at the piece of metal in Matt's palm. "I've seen one of these before. It prevents a person from shifting."

  How had the panther kept it in his paw, and where had he gotten it? Pierce was at home resting while Dr. Whitfield examined him, but Matt never wanted to get a call like that again. If the guard hadn't dug the tiny medallion out, Pierce would have died.

  Matt owed Aaron a debt of gratitude. So did Pierce.

  Taking a seat behind his desk, Matt stared out into the parking lot. It was rare a panther came this far south. Chevron was one of only a handful of panthers who called Mercury home, and he'd killed his own fucking mother.

  "You know as well as I do that life isn't pretty." Alastair sat across from Matt. "But don't you think it strange that so many nonhumans in Mercury turn feral?"

  Matt had been thinking about that for months. He just hadn't voiced his concern. The town's population was just shy of a thousand. That may seem like a lot of people, but considering cities held twenty-thousand or more residents, one thousand wasn't that many.

  And the warrants kept coming. Every time Matt turned around, he was handing one to his bounty hunters.

  "I'm just throwing this idea at you," Alastair said as he crossed his legs. "But what if the elders had something to do with this? What if they were weeding out the undesirable?"

  Matt frowned. "Are you saying they made the nonhumans go feral?"

  The thought was so disturbing that Matt didn't want to contemplate it. All but one councilmember was dead, so how could they have done anything for the past few months?

  As if reading his thoughts, Alastair said, "Kingsley is still alive. What if he orchestrated this?"

  "How?" Matt asked. "Granted, he's an elder, but how could he make anyone go savage?"

  Alastair shrugged. "It was just a theory. Other than Kingsley using some dark mojo, I can't think of why so many turn."

  Matt brushed his thumb over the charm. "I want to investigate the reason, but on the down low. Let's keep this between you and me, Alastair. If someone is behind so many going feral, I don't want to give the culprit a heads-up that we're on to him."

  "You think it might be someone from our council?"

  "I don't know if it's anyone at all, but until we find out what's going on, I'd rather keep a lid on this."

  With a nod, Alastair got up and left the office.

  Matt walked to the wall safe that was hidden behind a painting and deposited the charm inside. He didn't need anyone getting their hands on it. Once it was locked in the safe, Matt headed out. He wanted to go home and check on Pierce, to reassure himself his pack member was still alive.

  His pack was his family, and Matt cared about every last one of them. If he'd lost Pierce…Matt shoved the thought away as he climbed into his Hummer and drove off.

  * * * *

  The following morning Leslie tried to throw himself into his work, but his thoughts kept going back to Brady. Leslie hadn't been able to get enough sleep last night. All he'd done was toss and turn, and when he did sleep, he'd dreamed about wolves, panthers, and a cheating ex.

  "You look like shit," Frank said as he brought a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the kitchen. "Rough night?"

  If Frank only knew just how "rough" Leslie's night had been. He was surprised Jimmy hadn't called him first thing to get details of what happened after he'd left. "Just didn't get much sleep."

  It was close to the truth, so Leslie didn't feel bad about lying to his boss.

  "Gimme that empty tray." Frank balanced the tray of cinnamon rolls on his left palm as he wiggled his fingers on his right hand. His boss was rotund, had graying hair and pretty brown eyes, and was a knockout. He'd lost his wife two years ago to cancer. The couple had run the bakery since it opened ten years ago, but after her death, Frank had hired Leslie.

  On Leslie's days off, Frank let his nephew work, though Joseph was a slacker and Frank spent more time yelling at him than getting any work done. He knew this because even when Leslie didn't have to work he came in for Frank's cinnamon rolls.

  Leslie pulled the empty tray from the display case, but instead of handing it over, he set it on the back counter. Frank slid the fresh rolls into the case, but not before Leslie snatched one. Cinnamon rolls were his downfall. If Frank let him, Leslie would have eaten every last one. The guy was a genius at baking. Leslie had said more than once that Frank should be a famous pastry chef because the bakery was always packed.

  He also kept his recipe book locked in his safe. Leslie had begged for the cinnamon-roll recipe, but Frank had refused to give it to him. He'd told Leslie, "If I gave it to you, then you wouldn't buy them from me."

  Although Leslie never paid for them. Frank was just nice like that.

  "Hurry up and eat that." Frank washed his hands in the back sink
. "Customers are piling up."

  Leslie scarfed down the treat, wiped his mouth, and smiled at the lady on the other side of the counter. He took care of everyone in line, until he looked up and saw Ian standing there.

  And here Leslie thought he would have a peaceful day, but not even Ian was immune to Frank's pastries. Leslie had the urge to smash a cupcake in the twerp's face. Instead, he plastered on a smile. "Would you like to order a heart?"

  From behind him, Frank cleared his throat.

  Leslie turned and explained, "He cheated on me in my own bed, Frank. He's lucky I don't kick his ass."

  Which was a joke considering Ian was built like a linebacker.

  Frank waved Leslie away and took Ian's order, although Leslie glared at his ex the entire time. At least he didn't have his new toy with him. The probably would've set Leslie off. But he smirked when he thought about the sex he'd had with Brady, and that made him feel better.

  Somewhat. Leslie was still straddling the fence about Brady. He was afraid of what Brady was, of Brady saying they were mates, but Leslie missed him so badly he wanted to cry.

  Ugh. Men. Leslie should turn straight and show them all. He grimaced at the thought. Although he loved and respected women…no. Just…no.

  "Thanks for covering for me," Leslie said when Jerk walked out.

  Frank squeezed his shoulder. "I always have your back. If you want, I can bake some cupcakes with an added something to give him the shits."

  Leslie burst out laughing. God, he'd needed that laugh. "I'm pretty sure everyone at the gym would thank you when he stinks up the place."

  Leslie adored how devilish Frank was being, but knew he wouldn't do anything so underhanded. He just didn't have it in him to be mean to anyone, and that was one reason Leslie loved his boss so much.

  Frank chuckled. "It would serve him right for hurting such a sweet guy like you."

  "You're gonna make me blush," Leslie teased.

  "Blush about what?" someone said from behind Leslie. He knew that voice. Had dreamed about it.

  Leslie turned to find Brady standing at the counter, his gaze bouncing between Leslie and Frank. He wanted to throw himself in Brady's arms but restrained himself as he clucked his tongue. "What do you want?"

  "Leslie," Frank admonished. "Be nice."

  Leslie couldn't tell Frank about Brady, so he had no excuse for treating Brady this way. He smiled at Frank. "Sorry."

  "How're you doing, Brady?" Frank reached past Leslie and shook Brady's hand. "What can I get for you?"

  Leslie moved around the counter to clean the glass of the display case. In truth, he just wanted to get closer to Brady. His body sang with need to fold himself around the hunk.

  But again, he restrained himself.

  Brady eyed him as he spoke with Frank. His masculine scent wafted toward Leslie, and Leslie's mouth watered. He wanted another one of those toe-curling kisses. Leslie wanted another round of sex with Brady, too. He stood there remembering how Brady had pounded into his ass, how he'd touched all over Leslie's body, how his lips—

  "You okay?" One of Frank's brows hiked. "You're just standing there with the spray and cloth in your hands."

  Leslie looked down at his hands. His face heated as he turned to wipe the glass, but he still snuck quick glances at Brady.

  His heart plummeted when Brady took the box Frank handed him, paid for his purchase, then walked out. Kicking him out last night hadn't been wise, not when Leslie was seconds away from running after him right now.

  Chapter Five

  Brady lowered the tailgate of his truck, sat, and opened his box of cinnamon rolls. Not being able to pull Leslie into his arms had killed him. So had simply walking away. But his mate wanted space, and Brady would give him that, although he didn't plan to go very far.

  "Hot damn, you got me some breakfast," Ethan said as he strode over to him.

  "Touch my rolls and I'll gut you," Brady warned. "Go get your own."

  Ethan scowled. "Who pissed in your Wheaties?"

  "No one." That wasn't entirely true. Brady had been heading to the barbershop when he'd spotted Ian going into the bakery. Even though Leslie was no longer with Ian, Brady still stormed across the town square. When Ian walked out, Brady had to stop himself from plowing his fist through the twerp's face.

  "C'mon," Ethan whined. "You got a whole box of rolls. I only want one."

  "My heart's bleeding for you." Brady tossed him a roll. "Now stop whining."

  Ethan joined him on the back of his truck. Brady rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. He'd been friends with Ethan for as far back as he could remember. They had fought their way out of many dire situations, always having each other's back. But Brady wouldn't be himself if he didn't fuck with Ethan.

  "If I wasn't already a grown man," Ethan said with a full mouth, "I'd ask Frank to adopt me. I swear I've never tasted rolls this good."

  "If you ask him, let me know how that goes." Brady grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands as he stared across the square.

  "I was just kidding around." Ethan polished off the roll and licked his fingers. "You know I got daddy issues. I wouldn't want to project them onto Frank. He's a nice guy and wouldn't deserve my anger."

  Brady had seen Ethan in full-on Hulk mode, and it wasn't pretty. A few decades back they'd been living up north in Cincinnati. Their rental was next door to a guy who thought it okay to beat the crap out of his wife and kids—which Brady didn't find out about until afterward or he would've ended the guy before Ethan had.

  Brady had come home after tracking down some lunatic who'd stolen his car to find Ethan bloody and seething, the neighbor guy torn to pieces at his feet. They buried the remains and hauled ass, never looking back. That was when they'd run into Matt, and they'd been living in Mercury since.

  "Thanks for the snack." Ethan slid from the tailgate. "Now I'm heading to Grizzly's for a real breakfast."

  They tapped knuckles before Ethan walked away.

  Brady closed the lid on the box and stood. He stretched and looked back at the bakery, wondering if Leslie would throw a fit if he went in and grabbed a bottle of orange juice. The rolls had been banging, but now he was thirsty.

  He squinted when he saw a man walk out of the barbershop. No, it couldn't be. He and Hennessey had taken Randall down, had driven him to the prison and handed him over to the guards. That couldn't be Randall strolling down the street. But if it wasn't, he had a damn twin.

  Without closing his tailgate, Brady looked both ways, then hurried across the street. He rushed through the square—which was basically a large park—then moved across the street again before stepping onto the sidewalk. It was still pretty early, but there were still people out, and Brady didn't want to spook the Randall look-alike. He might take one of those innocent folks hostage, and Brady didn't want to deal with a standoff.

  The guy rounded the corner. Brady rushed to it and poked his head around the building. Randall's look-alike strode past a few houses, his hands tucked in his front pockets. While he had the guy in his sights, Brady pulled his phone from his pocket and called the prison.

  Aaron answered.

  "Tell me Randall didn't escape." Brady watched as the look-alike bent to pet a dog who lapped at his hand and wagged its tail. That wasn't the screaming, threatening, vicious man they'd taken down yesterday. Sure, Randall had tried to deceive them at first, but Brady had seen through his bullshit. And Matt had shown Brady and Hennessey pictures of how badly beaten his partner had been before they went after Randall. Sonny's face had barely resembled a human being's.

  "Are you nuts?" Aaron's tone indicated that he thought Brady was. "No one gets out of here on my watch."

  "Can you just check?" Not that he doubted Aaron could take Randall down, but the resemblance was too uncanny, and Brady wanted to reassure himself he wasn't looking at Randall. If the guy had escaped, Brady needed to take the son of a bitch down before the guy got to Sonny.

  "I was just arguing with him ten minutes
ago," Aaron said. "The bastard is narcissistic as hell and thinks I'll call a full meeting of the council just so he can tell them he's innocent." He made a noise in the back of his throat. "First, I don't have the power to call a meeting like that. Second, I wish I would bow to these prisoners every whim." He made another disgusted noise. "I wish he would try to escape. That'd give him a reason to kill his sorry ass."

  Brady grinned. He didn't know Aaron was so damn chatty. "I'm looking at a guy who's a dead ringer for Randall."

  Aaron sighed. "Fine, let me go check, but I'm telling you, he's tucked away in his cell."

  Although Brady knew that Randall couldn't escape from prison and make it to the barbershop, get a haircut, and stride down the street in five minutes, he wanted Aaron's reassurance that Randall was truly in his cell.

  "You call this breakfast!" someone shouted in the background and Brady recognized Randall's voice.

  "Shut the fuck up," Aaron said. "Be glad I fed you at all." He then started talking to Brady. "Yep, the asshole is still locked up. I'm staring right at him."

  "Thanks." Knowing the guy he was following wasn't Randall, Brady tucked his phone away and moved down the street. He placed a hand on the stranger's shoulder and spun him. The guy appeared startled as he blinked up at Brady.

  "Can I help you?"

  Goddamn, he looked exactly like Randall. "I was just wondering what your name was."

  Brady sniffed, but scented human. This couldn't be Randall.

  "Jerry," the guy said. "Why?"

  With a shake of his head, Brady said, "No reason."

  He walked away, wondering if Frank had put drugs in his cinnamon rolls because what were the odds Randall had a dead ringer living in Mercury? Astronomical. And Brady didn't believe in coincidences. Something as afoot and he would get to the bottom of this. But he couldn't exactly ask "Jerry" to show him some ID.

  Brady wasn't a cop, and far more likely Jerry would call them if he didn't back down. So he put on his charm. "Does Jerry have a last name?"