by SJ Himes
“Sweetheart,” Jameson murmured, hoping to ease Rael awake so as not to startle him. Rubbing Rael’s shoulder, his breath stalled when brilliant blue eyes slowly blinked open, their depths warming as Rael woke. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Rael breathed out, then sat up just enough for their lips to meet. The kiss was languid and sweet, stealing Jameson’s resolve to get Rael to work on time.
Rael pushed into the kiss, tongue inquisitive and daring, and Jameson let Rael in, their hands tugging and pulling, and Rael slid from the couch to land with a giggle on Jameson’s lap. Senses full of Rael, Jameson growled low and gently nipped along Rael’s jaw and down the side of his neck, breathing in deep and wishing he could bite. There was some reason they shouldn’t keep going but he was damned if he could remember.
An alarm blared from Rael’s forgotten phone, breaking them apart, and Rael groaned and scrambled for the device, fingers fumbling, eventually turning off the reminder. Rael grumbled under his breath. “I really need to go to work but I want to finish what we were doing.”
“I know,” Jameson said on a sigh, and gently disentangled them, helping Rael to his feet. “I’m done for the day, so how about we grab something to eat on the way to dropping you off for work.”
“Are you spoiling me?” Rael asked, suspicion coloring his tone.
“Yes, yes I am.” He would do it for centuries if Rael let him.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Rael quipped with a bright smile.
He couldn’t help the grin or the happiness that welled up from the center of his chest. Jameson led Rael from his office, locking the door behind him. The security company that covered the building would do routine sweeps as soon as the official day was over. The building was located in the Financial District on Pearl Street, and Jameson’s office had a limited view of the south side of Leventhal Park. It was an arrow-shaped wedge of green in the district, surrounded by concrete and glass high-rises.
They left the office and crossed the intersection of Pearl and Franklin, heading for the glass-covered entrance to the Post Office Square public parking lot under the greenspace. The late afternoon sun was bright and warm, and the air was heavy with exhaust from traffic and the heat-drenched scents of flowers planted along the sidewalk. Bees zipped by from flower to flower, and birds scolded from the tree branches high overhead. Rael slipped his hand into Jameson’s, and they entered the glass structure. The roaring air conditioning pushing up the escalators made it damn near frigid, but it felt good after the heat of the summer sun on the streets above.
They got on the escalator and headed down, Rael leaning into his side. It was a steep ride down, and Jameson took the chance to cuddle Rael. He was heartened to see Rael losing the shyness he always exhibited whenever they were near each other, each interaction growing more natural and relaxed.
“Are you up to going on the pack run?” he asked quietly as they neared the bottom of the escalator at the Lobby Level.
Rael shrugged. “I kinda want to stay home, since I won’t actually be able to run with the pack. I always end up feeling bad for Mom, who cuts her runtime short to hang out with me and the younger kids at the BBQ area. Are you going?”
“Required attendance.” For now, at least. Jameson was less inclined to remain in the Southside Pack with each passing day. “Abigail’s family will be present, according to Bertram. I’d like to know if either her father or her brother are the wolf who attacked you.”
The parking structure was busy, the end of the workday meaning people and vehicles were moving all around. They got off the escalator on the Lobby Level and then they stomped down the stairs to the next level. The staircase was wide and the sounds of rush hour loud in the confined concrete space until they hit the landing for Level One.
“What are you going to do if my attacker is one of them?” Rael asked as they headed down the nearest row of cars to where Jameson had parked earlier. Echoes boomed throughout the space, the hum of engines and tires over pavement a constant background noise. It was well lit and ventilated, but his heightened senses were not much of a boon in the current environment.
“I’ll confront them and drag them before Bertram. If Bertram refuses to act with impartiality or it comes to light that he condoned the attack, I will challenge whoever I need to in order to get justice.”
They reached his car and Rael left his side to walk around to the passenger door as Jameson unlocked the doors with the fob. Rael paused and frowned at him over the roof of the car. “Abigail hates me and my mom. What if she put someone up to it? You can’t challenge her, she’s pregnant.”
“I think that might be the case, honestly,” Jameson rested his forearms on the car roof. “I interceded and kept you from getting booted out, and I bet Abigail was counting on Scylla leaving with you. No one was expecting me to get involved. If it turns out Abigail is responsible, then I’ll voice my complaints, beat the fuck outta the patsy she had attack you, then leave the pack with you and Scylla. We can figure things out easily enough on our own.”
“Easy for you, maybe! Moving packs means money, and…” Rael went to open the door and stopped, shocked. His face went pale and he stumbled back from the car.
“Rael? What is it?” he asked as he rounded the front of the car and came to a stop beside Rael, who pointed at the passenger door.
Five deep rends in the metal of the door panel ran from the side mirror all the way back to the handle. Some gray strands of fur and smears of blood remained from the metal cutting whoever had vandalized the car. The blood was just beginning to dry, and the fool who did the damage left behind evidence. The mirrored finish was covered in prints and failed attempts, like whoever did it had to figure out how to transform enough to gouge that deeply into the metal without drawing too much attention to themselves, and it took them too long.
Jameson lifted his head and surveyed the area, keeping Rael behind him, the minivan parked next to the BMW at their backs. “Jameson?”
“They might still be here.” He took his time, trying to listen, but whoever did it picked a good time to fuck up his car. Scents were cloudy from exhaust and the chemicals used in the car wash area. “Dammit. Keep an eye on the area, I’m calling the cops.”
“Shit, Jameson, I’m so sorry,” Rael said, misery thick in his words.
“I think this is about both of us now, and not just you,” Jameson said, one hand on Rael’s hip as the younger man clung to him, forlorn, and with his free hand he dialed the manager’s office number for the parking structure. Thankfully, he knew the number by heart since his employees all parked there. It was staffed 24/7, and surveillance cameras were everywhere, so they might have caught the vandalism on video. Once the call connected, he told the staff on duty where he was parked and what happened, and the staffer said they would call the police for him. He hung up and went back to keeping an eye on their surroundings. “Damn. I can’t get a scent, can you?”
Rael slipped out from behind him and leaned down to sniff at the damage. He jerked back and sneezed. “Ugh, gross. Don’t recognize them, but it’s the same werewolf who attacked me the other night. I think I smelled Abigail, though.”
Brow arching, Jameson leaned down and took a brief inhale through his nose. Scents flooded his head, and he wiped at his face as he straightened. “I think I can confirm it was someone who was with Abigail recently. The scent is close to hers, so probably a relative.” He picked a tiny puff of dark gray fur off the sharp edge of one of the rends and held it to his nose. He got hints of anger, frustration, and the same musk belonging to the werewolf he faced down on Athens Street. And definitely a hint of Abigail—her scent was stronger with the pregnancy. She wasn’t the one to do it, but she knew who did. He would bet anything that it was one of the Lauders.
A white security car with yellow flashing lights pulled up behind the BMW, and a guard and a staff member got out and approached. Jameson tucked the fur into his pocket and went to meet them, thinking Rael was about to be late for work.
<
br /> Chapter 9
“Mom, I think I’m just gonna leave the pack,” Rael said over the phone, making sure the stockroom door was locked as he helped Saoirse close the shop down. He was almost late for his shift, but Jameson thankfully got him a Lyft to work while the BMW was towed to the shop after the police cleared the vehicle. “Jameson is getting shit from Abigail and I bet Mercer knows what’s going on and is using her family to do what he’s too cowardly to do on his own. Jameson scares Mercer—always has.”
Scylla was on break at the hospital, and her worry was loud in his ear. “Honey, be careful saying that stuff aloud. You don’t know who is listening. I don’t want Mercer hurting you. I can’t protect you if I’m at work.”
“Mom,” he tried not to whine, wishing she didn’t make him feel both loved and unable to defend himself. Of course, he couldn’t, not against an alpha werewolf, but still. “Don’t worry about me. Jameson is here. He got a rental. And I think Saoirse could handle an alpha.”
“Mercer is a bastard and not trustworthy. He won’t come alone if he decides to punish any of us.”
“Then you need to be careful, too.”
He shut off the bathroom light, checked the fire door that opened into the rear alley, and then turned off the hallway light as he headed toward the front of the shop. Saoirse was at the register, putting money in a dark blue deposit bag and locking it. Jameson lounged in a chair in the waiting area, thumbing through a binder full of photographs of tattoos.
“Mom, we’re closing up. I’ll see ya tomorrow morning,” Rael said.
“Be careful! Have a good night.” Scylla hung up and he tucked his phone into his pocket.
“Scylla unhappy?” Jameson asked as he stood and returned the binder to its spot by the register. Saoirse locked the cabinets under the register and powered everything down, leaving the security system running, which she armed while grabbing her keys and gesturing to the front door.
“Yeah, Mom thinks we need to be careful. She thinks your uncle is gonna attack us directly at this point if he thinks we’re conspiring or something,” Rael ushered Jameson out in front of him with Saoirse bringing up the rear. She locked the door and then waited to hear the double beep of the system engaging. “I told her I want to leave the pack.”
Rael looked up at Jameson, worried how he would react. Jameson put a warm hand on the back of Rael’s neck and squeezed. “If that’s what you want, we can make that happen.”
“I’d feel a whole lot better leaving on my own terms instead of letting Bertram kick me out, or letting Abigail continue to fuck with us over this. Most of the pack is full of shitty people happy to follow Bertram’s example. And it’s a shitty example to follow.”
“Then we leave,” Jameson said quietly, pressing a kiss to Rael’s forehead, and Rael sighed happily, leaning into Jameson.
“Goddess almighty, you two are excruciatingly adorable,” Saoirse sniffled dramatically before cackling, spinning her keys around her finger. “It’s late. Go home.”
“Want a lift home?” Jameson asked, tilting his head toward the rental parked in front of the shop.
“I’ll be fine,” Saoirse grinned. She flicked her keys one more time, and with a flash of silver, a long dagger appeared in her hand, the blade catching the light. Another flick, and she went back to holding her keys. “Get home. Rael, I’ll text next week’s schedule to you.”
“Yeah, see ya.” He waved, and Saoirse walked off into the shadows.
Jameson watched until she was completely lost in the night. “I keep forgetting fae can do that.”
“What? Glamour? Yeah, I think she’s armed all the time. I stopped trying to see through it a couple years ago, though if I know what weapon she has I can see it if I concentrate.”
“How long have you worked for her?” Jameson unlocked the rental and they both got in, Jameson checking the street in both directions before he shut his door and turned on the car.
“Started after I turned sixteen, so two years,” Rael said as he clicked his seat belt. The headlights came on, and he grabbed at Jameson’s arm when the lights reflected off a car parked several spots away on the curb. He sighed, embarrassed.
“Sorry, I thought for a second that I saw eyes reflecting the light,” Rael’s face burned, and he tried to pull away from Jameson, but his hand was held in a firm grip.
“It’s okay. I’ve been on edge all night, too.” Jameson kissed his knuckles and Rael looked at him, catching a hint of a smile in the shadows. “Let’s get you home.”
The drive was short, the streets deserted, and soon enough they were pulling up outside Rael’s house. The lights were off, Scylla still at the hospital.
“When is Scylla due back?” Jameson asked.
“She should be home in a couple hours,” Rael answered after looking at the clock. “I usually grab a snack then go to bed.” He paused, thinking about it. Jameson didn’t seem in a hurry to leave and Rael didn’t want to be alone. He decided to take the risk. “Or I could grab my toothbrush and a change of clothes, and you can take me home with you.”
The look he got from Jameson was scorching, his grin entirely predatory, and Rael shivered in his seat. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll come in with you.”
Rael looked back at the house and frowned. The exterior light over the front door was on, and there was a dim glow through the curtains from a light left on in the kitchen, but that was it—he saw nothing, but he knew better than to trust only his eyes. His instincts were on high alert, and the thought of going into the house kept him in his seat.
“We can just go to my place. I have a new toothbrush you can use, and we can wash your clothes.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Rael replied quietly. The house suddenly looked ominous cloaked in shadows, nebulous threats hiding where childhood memories of love and comfort once lived. “Take me home, Jameson.”
Without hesitation, Jameson drove away from Rael’s house, and took them west.
The apartment was not what Rael had been expecting. Jameson’s place was open and airy, the tall windows overlooking the intersection below, streetlamps the only illumination coming through the glass. It was on the third floor of a pricey apartment building on the southern edge where Back Bay met Columbus, the area bisected by I-90 just to the north. The brownstone townhouse on the corner lucked out and had multiple vantages, providing more than a frontal view of the facing street, letting Rael see a few blocks down each street on the intersection. Brownstones as far as the eye could see, pops of color from flower boxes and in flags hanging from windows. Jameson had a wrought-iron balcony along the side of the apartment not facing the front door, big enough for a few people to walk out and look down on the street below. A Pride flag hung from the balcony rails, gently ruffling with the light breeze.
Low-slung dark brown leather couches surrounded a huge coffee table sporting a few short stacks of folders and some scattered pens, a forgotten coffee mug next to the folders. The couches were under the windows in the corner, and to the right, a bar and island combo separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, the counters bare but for a pod coffeemaker and an empty takeout bag. Glass-fronted cabinets revealed a few plates and bowls, a couple mugs. Hardwood floors gleamed a rich mahogany and his footsteps echoed softly as Rael walked into the center of the living room and gazed off down the single hallway leading deeper into Jameson’s apartment.
He could hear Jameson down the hall, and a light came on through a doorway, the sound of running water echoing faintly. Rael smiled, and with his belly growing tight and his heart racing, he turned away from the view and headed down the hallway.
He assumed it was the guest bathroom, as Jameson was digging in a small closet for towels, a couple small bottles of toiletries in his hand already. Jameson saw him in the doorway and gave him a huge grin, speaking hurriedly as he gestured at the running shower, steam just starting to rise from the tiles. “The water in the guest bathroom needs a minute or two to get hot so I started it
for you.” He put towels on the wall rack beside the shower stall door, then handed Rael the small bottles.
Rael set them carefully on the edge of the sink. Jameson stared at him as he reached down and pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. The intense visual examination from head to toes that Jameson gave him made him flush, fingers shaking the tiniest amount as he unsnapped the button at his waistband.
“Rael, you don’t have to…” Jameson protested, and Rael smiled. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and pushed them down past his thighs, boxer briefs following. Jameson came to him, hot fingertips gently grazing over his hipbones, featherlight and scorching.
“I want to.” Rael tipped his chin back as Jameson leaned down, and their lips met in an open-mouthed kiss, slow and wet. Rael pulled back to breathe, Jameson’s eyes golden and fiery with arousal. Rael whispered against Jameson’s lips. “Get naked.”
Hands and arms bumping into each other, Jameson and Rael struggled to get their clothes off while they kissed, each tilt of their heads and sweep of their tongues becoming more frantic, desperate. Rael tried to kick off his pants, hampered by his shoes, and he pulled back from the kiss with a laugh.
Jameson knelt at his feet, and with a sure, quick grip, tugged off Rael’s shoes one by one, tossing them aside to thump into the wall. Steam filled the air as Jameson stared up at him, and Rael shivered as heat coiled and unfurled low in his belly, muscles taut, breath ragged.
Warm fingers pulled away his socks, and caressed his ankles, then carefully slid higher, rubbing gently over calf muscles, the hairs on his legs rising, tingles left in the wake of Jameson’s touch.
Rael found it impossible to take his gaze away from Jameson, for once not worried about what Jameson was thinking or feeling. The heat in his golden eyes was unmistakable. The reverence in his touch was invigorating. The slide of hands over his knees and slowly up his thighs made his heart skip in his chest, breath stalling. Jameson was tall enough that even kneeling at Rael’s feet, his head was level with Rael’s sternum, and he leaned forward, gently placing a soft kiss just above Rael’s navel. Rael sucked in a harsh breath, his own hands coming forward, carding through thick golden-brown strands, so soft and silky. Jameson trailed kisses across his belly, and while an incredibly hard and insistent part of his anatomy wanted Jameson’s mouth to move south, Rael was relieved and reassured when Jameson continued to kiss upward along Rael’s chest.