“Then tell us what it says and who Aksel Sigfodr is.”
Patrick sighed before sitting down in the closest armchair. “This was supposed to be an off-the-record mission.”
“Yeah, packs don’t work that way,” Emma replied dryly.
“The federal government does.”
“That’s nice. You’re still going to tell us.”
Patrick made a face, knowing he couldn’t keep quiet on this mess. Emma’s pack was too entangled with theirs, and willing to help them fight on any number of fronts. It had taken Patrick months to come to terms with the fact that he had people he could call for help. Setsuna might be putting a lot of faith into the joint task force, but Patrick didn’t trust its existence would remain outside the bulk of the SOA’s awareness.
He’d come to learn that having allies in unexpected locations was never a bad thing. Jono had drilled into him that pack was family, and while they were both keenly aware of how family could hurt, Patrick was learning to trust the family they’d chosen. It wasn’t always easy, but that’s what made it worth it in the end.
“Aksel Sigfodr is a key player in Chicago politics. He also has ties to the criminal underworld, but no one’s been able to pin any crime on him or his family.”
Emma arched an eyebrow. “So he’s part of the mob?”
Patrick shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? Organized crime has never been my specialty. Reed’s people seem to think he might have some information on the staff’s possible location.”
“And that would be enough to bring the Dominion Sect to Chicago?”
“Yeah. More than enough.”
“Well, fuck,” Leon said. “Is this going to turn into another crazy sacrifice mess?”
“Now you’ve jinxed us,” Wade muttered around a mouthful of strawberry Pop-Tart as he returned to the living room.
Jono looked over at Patrick. “When do you have to be in Chicago?”
Patrick grimaced. “I fly out tonight. Setsuna signed off on sending me to Chicago under the guise of a different case. Something about a corrupt candidate that needs looking into. I’m to meet with Sigfodr separately.”
“Sounds like regular old Chicago politics to me,” Sage said dryly. “Why would the SOA need to get involved?”
“I’ll find out when I read the file and get there.”
“Who’s going with you?”
“You know I don’t have a partner. I’m going by myself like I always do.”
Sage shook her head. “That might’ve worked before you declared our god pack, but not anymore.”
“I’m traveling under SOA jurisdiction.”
“Pack law still matters. You’re going to need to ask for pass-through rights from the Chicago god pack. Since you’re one of our pack’s alphas, whether or not you’re a werecreature, you shouldn’t go alone.”
“I’m trying my hardest not to have the rest of the SOA know about my pack. As a government agent, it puts my cases in jeopardy to have so obvious a bias. Me waltzing into Chicago with a request to talk to the god pack alphas there isn’t good PR for my agency.”
Jono frowned, the worry in his eyes easy enough to read. “I’m with Sage on this one, Pat. I don’t like you going alone.”
“You can’t come with me. I leave all the time for my job, but right now, we can’t afford for you to be missing from our territory. One of us needs to stay.”
The borders they claimed were still too fragile, and Estelle and Youssef weren’t going to stop testing them. As much as Patrick hated not being able to have Jono with him, he disliked it even more that he’d have to leave Jono behind for the duration of this mission. He wouldn’t put it past Estelle and Youssef to strike while he was gone.
Patrick trusted their own pack and a handful of their allies; he just didn’t trust anyone else.
Sage pulled the straw away from Marek’s mouth and set the potion bottle aside. “I can’t go. I have a motion for summary judgment due on Friday, and I’m crunched for time as it is.”
“Sorry,” Marek mumbled.
Sage leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Not your fault.”
“I can go,” Wade said.
“You have class,” Patrick reminded him.
Wade shrugged. “I’ll get my therapist to write a note and excuse me. Worked during December.”
“You’re still making up classwork from December.”
“I’m still pack. I can go.”
Patrick would’ve preferred Wade stay in New York and keep working toward getting the equivalent of his high school diploma. But choice was a big thing for Wade, and it was something Patrick refused to take away from him. Wade had spent four years fighting to the death as entertainment for the rich. He hadn’t known what he truly was after being kidnapped and enslaved by the god Tezcatlipoca. Wade’s ignorance was the only reason the immortal had been able to keep control of the teenager over the years.
Being free didn’t mean life was immediately easy. Wade still saw a therapist weekly to help him work through years of trauma. Getting to have control over his life and make choices was an integral part of his recovery. Patrick and Jono might set limits for the safety of the pack, but they were careful about giving Wade orders because they both understood losing bodily autonomy in a way most people didn’t.
“I think you should take Wade,” Jono said after a brief pause.
Wade fist pumped the air before pulling out the second Pop-Tart from the silvery wrapper. “I’ve always wanted to try a Chicago-style hot dog.”
“Of course you’d make it about food,” Patrick muttered as he stood.
“You can call me if you have any pack law questions,” Sage said.
Emma smoothed her hand over Marek’s messy hair before clearing her throat. “I’m pissed you kept this from us, but I get it. The gods don’t give you a choice about what you’re allowed to share. If you need backup, I can send some of our pack along with you.”
Patrick wasn’t close to anyone in Emma’s pack outside the core leadership. He liked them well enough—everyone was loyal to her and Leon—but he couldn’t afford for knowledge of his ties to immortals to get out into the general public.
“Thanks for the offer, but Wade should be enough help. If shit goes down, he’s a good ace in the hole. No one expects a dragon as backup.”
“Just like no one expected the Spanish Inquisition,” Wade said with a snicker.
“You are banned from watching any more Monty Python.”
Jono snorted. “Now you’re asking for the gods to throw a spanner in the works.”
Patrick shrugged. “I expect that on a daily basis.”
“What time does your flight leave?”
“Six o’clock,” Patrick replied, remembering to use civilian time. “I need to go home and pack.”
Wade frowned. “I need to pack. Do I even have a suitcase?”
“Yes,” Jono said. “We found one when we cleaned out your apartment last month.”
“Right.”
“Pack a jacket. You need to act like Chicago is cold. It’s February and it’s still snowing over there,” Patrick told him.
Wade made a face but didn’t argue. Being a fire dragon, he ran a lot hotter in human form and forgot about appearing human in the dead of winter. Walking around in a T-shirt and jeans while it was snowing outside was not the best way to hide what he was. Reminding him to act human was second nature these days as Wade settled in to what he was.
“Send me your flight information and I’ll get Wade’s ticket. Hopefully there are seats available,” Sage said.
Wade ripped open his last packet of Pop-Tarts. “I could just fly there on my own. I have wings.”
“No,” everyone said in unison.
Jono went to fetch Sage’s Birkin and coat, carrying both over to her. He spoke quietly to her for a moment before straightening up and looking at Patrick. “Ready?”
“We’ll pick you up at your apartment in two hours, Wade,” Patrick said as he and
Jono headed for the door.
Patrick snapped his fingers, disengaging the silence ward. A chorus of goodbyes followed them out of the apartment.
“I hate separating like this,” Jono said when they were finally in the Mustang and driving back home.
“Can’t be helped,” Patrick replied, typing on his phone while Jono drove. He shot off an email to Sage with his flight details. “You know how my job is.”
“I know how the gods are.”
“Yeah, well. I’d tell them to fuck off if I could.”
Jono hummed a wordless response. Patrick sighed and reached over to settle his hand on Jono’s thigh. The heater was running in the car because it was a gray, dreary day outside. Jono was warm to the touch, body heat seeping through his jeans and into Patrick’s chilled fingers.
“You’ll need to be careful with the Chicago god pack. They aren’t one Estelle and Youssef have an alliance with,” Jono said.
“Isn’t that a good thing? Means we can try to get them on our side.”
“Alliances take time to form. A couple of days isn’t going to be long enough.”
“Somehow I doubt I’ll be in Chicago for only a couple of days.”
Jono sighed heavily. “Yeah.”
They drove the rest of the way home in silence, with Jono managing to find a parking spot one block over from their apartment. Patrick shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, the heat charms embedded in it keeping most of him warm in the face of a cold winter wind.
Gray slush was all that remained of the last snowfall, shoved to the edge of the sidewalk and roads. Puddles that hadn’t quite iced over littered the cement as they walked to their apartment building.
After climbing five flights of stairs, Patrick let them inside and immediately found himself pushed up against the front door. He tipped his head back, staring up into Jono’s eyes. Jono lifted his hand and wrapped it loosely around Patrick’s throat. Patrick swallowed, feeling Jono’s fingers move with the motion. His cock twitched with interest, and despite needing to pack for his flight, Patrick had no intention of moving unless Jono wanted him to.
“Be careful in Chicago,” Jono said, his voice coming out low.
“Would you believe me if I said I was always careful?”
Jono pressed his thumb against the edge of Patrick’s jaw, tilting his head back farther. “You’re a bloody liar.”
“Good poker face though.”
“I’d like your face”—Jono’s other hand slipped between his legs—“and your cock, and all the rest of you, to come back in one piece.”
Patrick licked his lips, canting his hips into Jono’s touch. “Asking for a miracle.”
“Pat.”
“I’ll do my best. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Jono obliged in the best way, stealing the breath from Patrick’s lungs, caging him in against the door. Jono kept Patrick there with a hand around his throat that had broken bones in dozens of fights but would never break his. Jono’s preternatural strength was a turn-on for Patrick and always would be. There was something about finding safety in a man who could pick up a car and throw it when the need arose, then turn around and touch Patrick with a gentleness he’d rarely been given in his life.
Patrick tangled his fingers in Jono’s shirt, pulling him closer. Jono moved his hand against Patrick’s throat until he could press his wrist against the pulse point there. Patrick couldn’t smell the scent that lived in Jono’s skin and which he knew was seeping into his. The pack scent was something Jono pressed into his skin every day, and this moment was no different.
“Need to pack my suitcase,” Patrick muttered against Jono’s mouth.
Jono nipped at Patrick’s bottom lip before sinking to his knees. The smile that curved his mouth was positively filthy. “So go pack.”
Patrick banged his head against the door and swore. “Like I’m going anywhere when you’re looking at me like that. What kind of willpower do you think I have?”
“You’re the most stubborn bloke I know.”
“Not when it comes to you.”
Which was true in a way that would’ve made Patrick panic even six months ago. Now, it left him feeling like he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. He reached out and ran his fingers through Jono’s black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Jono’s smile shifted into a teasing smirk before he undid Patrick’s belt and pulled down the zipper on his jeans.
Patrick spread his legs, his dagger and service pistol weighing down the right side of his clothes, but the thigh straps ensured they wouldn’t slide down. Jono made no move to get him completely undressed. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth over Patrick’s quickly dampening underwear. Jono sucked at his cock through the thin material, the scrape of spit-soaked cotton a tease against sensitive skin that made Patrick’s nerves buzz with want.
Jono mouthed his cock through his underwear for another minute or so until he finally got tired of the flimsy barrier. Jono pulled down his underwear to free his half-hard cock, tucking the elastic band under his balls. He licked roughly at the head of Patrick’s cock. Patrick sucked in a breath that got stuck in his throat when Jono swallowed him down.
Patrick could feel Jono’s breath against the skin of his stomach, and he moaned when Jono swallowed. The tight constriction around his cock that came and went had him tightening his hold on Jono’s hair. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to yank Jono off or drag him closer, and settled for just holding on as Jono took him apart with embarrassing ease.
“Is this because we didn’t get a lie-in today and now I’m leaving?” Patrick gasped out, hips circling to push his cock deeper into the wet, willing heat of Jono’s mouth.
Jono pulled off him, which wasn’t what Patrick wanted at all, and he tugged pointedly at Jono’s hair. Jono huffed out a laugh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of Patrick’s cock.
“I want the god pack in Chicago to know who you belong to when you go before them.”
Patrick shivered at those words, moaning loudly when Jono dragged his tongue up the length of his cock before sucking at the tip. “Pretty sure that won’t be a problem.”
Jono didn’t respond, choosing instead to swallow Patrick back down. Patrick pressed his shoulders against the door, fingers tightening on Jono’s hair and shoulder. He swore when Jono tugged on his balls, playing with them. Warmth pooled in his belly as everything narrowed down to his cock and Jono’s mouth and how badly he wanted to come.
The apartment felt almost too warm, but Patrick figured it was just him. He tried to thrust deeper into Jono’s mouth, but Jono pressed his hips against the door, pinning him in place. Patrick whimpered, half curling over Jono as his cock throbbed between Jono’s lips.
It was easy to let go like this, to let Jono draw out his pleasure with lips and tongue and the knowing touch of his hands. Jono knew what Patrick liked, what made him come apart at the seams, and it wasn’t long before he was coming down Jono’s throat, shivering through his orgasm.
“Jono.”
Moments like this—safe in Jono’s hands—felt like a prayer when Patrick didn’t believe in them.
Jono pulled off and rose to his feet, still holding Patrick’s softening cock in one hand. At some point he’d undone his own jeans, and his hard cock pressed against Patrick’s stomach, making a mess on his skin. Patrick let his forehead fall against Jono’s shoulder as Jono started to jerk himself off, breathing in the smell of them.
Jono shifted against him, and Patrick lifted his head, breath catching in his throat when Jono’s teeth scraped against the side of his neck. The pressure sharpened but didn’t break skin when Jono came, hot cum falling over Patrick’s spent cock. He hissed when Jono rubbed it into his sensitive skin, smearing it over his balls.
“I’m not flying with your dried cum on me,” Patrick muttered.
Jono licked at his throat, the touch making Patrick wish they had more time to get undressed and mess up the bed.
; “You can shower. My scent will still be on you.”
Patrick tugged Jono down for a kiss that tasted like a mix of both of them. When they broke apart, Patrick gently scratched at the back of Jono’s neck. “Pack my suitcase?”
“Of course.” Jono pressed a kiss against his temple. “Love you.”
Life was easier these days with someone else to lean on. Patrick didn’t know what he’d find in Chicago, but he knew home would be waiting for him when he came back.
Patrick shoved the TSA badge, a set of janitor keys, someone’s paper boarding pass, and a lanyard with LaGuardia printed on it into his jacket pocket, fingertips glowing from a look-away ward. Sparks of his magic twisted through the air in their immediate area as the ward directed everyone’s attention away from them.
“I told you to keep your hands to yourself when we went through security,” Patrick hissed.
“Maybe people shouldn’t leave stuff lying around waiting for someone to take it,” Wade muttered.
“They were wearing the damn things!”
Wade shrugged, gaze darting around as they walked through O’Hare, apparently unrepentant of his thieving ways. “I want a hot dog.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and kept walking. “I spent fifty dollars on the plane feeding you. Can we get out of O’Hare first?”
“But Chicago Style Hot Dogs is right there.”
Wade’s wheedling was the tone of a starving, dramatic teenager who wouldn’t be deterred. Patrick didn’t want to deal with a long ride into downtown Chicago listening to Wade whine about how hungry he was.
“Fine. Get your hot dog. I’ll be waiting right here.”
Wade ran off like the hounds of hell were after him, backpack bouncing on his shoulders. Patrick grabbed the handle of Wade’s carry-on and dragged it with him out of the way of people rushing back and forth. It was late, and while Patrick was hungry, he wanted to get to the hotel first. He hated airport food. Room service wasn’t much better, but he could at least order delivery at a hotel.
Patrick rubbed at his chest, frowning as the knit of his sweater scraped over his scars. The soulbond was muted in his soul the way it always was when he traveled, only it seemed stretched thinner and tighter this trip. He figured it was the distance—almost half a country was farther than half a state. He just hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.
A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound Book 4) Page 3