by Bru Baker
Jackson was already at the boathouse when Harris walked up. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was staring out at the lake. The raft in the center was empty, since the wolflings were all in their late-morning sessions.
He turned when Harris’s feet hit the dock.
“Hey. Thanks for meeting me,” he said. He looked stressed and tired, and Harris’s stomach dropped.
“No problem. I didn’t know you were coming up,” he said, unlocking the door to the boathouse and letting Jackson walk in first. They kept it locked to deter randy wolflings from using it as a hookup spot, an irony that was not lost on Harris as he spread his blanket out on the cedar-plank floor and opened the picnic basket.
“It wasn’t planned,” Jackson said. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I went out last night, and things got out of hand. Jordan drove us up in the middle of the night.”
There weren’t many ways things could get out of hand for a Were. They couldn’t get drunk, and he knew Jackson wouldn’t mess with illegal drugs. He bit back a million questions and waited for Jackson to continue.
“I was with a guy last night. At a club.”
Harris looked away and busied himself with unpacking the picnic. He’d been an idiot.
“No,” Jackson said, kneeling on the blanket next to him and stilling his hands with his own. “I mean, I tried. Because all I’ve been able to think about since our kiss is you. And I thought maybe I could get you out of my system. But I couldn’t. I didn’t.”
Harris sat back on his heels, shaking Jackson’s grip off. “I don’t know how you expect me to react here,” he said, hurt coursing through him. “I—I know we said we’d forget about the kiss and just be friends, but I don’t want to hear about your hookups, Jackson. I can’t be that kind of friend for you right now.”
“Fuck,” Jackson said, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes. “This is coming out all wrong. I didn’t do anything with the guy, Harry. Just being there with him felt wrong when it was you I wanted to be with. I left him sitting there and went outside and called Drew, and the next thing I know Jordan is picking me up off the ground and bringing me here.”
Picking him up off the ground? Harris sat up on his knees and put his hands on Jackson’s shoulders, looking him over. He didn’t look injured, and Harris hadn’t smelled anything but anxiety on him. “What happened? Why were you on the ground?”
Jackson grabbed his hands. “Because my wolf was going nuts. I thought I was going to lose it in that alley. I—I can’t sleep, I’m snappy with everyone. I don’t want to keep ignoring what I feel for you.”
Harris didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t think he could get the words out even if he did. His heart was in his throat. Jackson wanted to be with him? After years of waiting, could he really be here with his mate, listening to him say he wanted to be together?
“I mean, you know this has an expiration date. Even if I don’t get this job with the Tribunal, I’ll get one eventually. It’s the next logical step for me. But there’s no reason we can’t be happy for now, right?”
Harris’s chest seized, Jackson’s casual words crushing all the air out of his lungs. He swallowed back bile and pasted a smile on his face. Was having a limited time with his mate better than never having him at all?
Jackson stared at him, expression worried. Harris needed to say something soon or he’d lose him for good this time. His scent was already turning from nervous and hopeful to the bitter tang of sadness and rejection.
“Of course,” Harris rasped out. “Of course I want to be with you for however long I can have you.”
Jackson’s eyes lit up, and he cupped Harris’s face with his palms. “I want to do this the right way,” he said. “No running away after, I promise.”
No staying either. But that was something Harris could deal with later. He didn’t have the strength to deny his mate anything, especially this.
He mirrored Jackson’s pose, cupping his face reverently. Harris couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch. Stubble pricked against his palms, as good as a pinch to assure him this was really happening. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Jackson’s lips.
It was over almost as soon as it began, and Harris pulled away with a smile. He needed time to process this and prepare himself before they went any further. He was going to come out of this heartbroken, but it would be more than worth it. Still, he had to do what he could to protect himself, and giving himself to Jackson when he was this flayed open and vulnerable would be a mistake he’d regret for the rest of his life.
“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he admitted. “But it’s not going to happen in a public boathouse where anyone can interrupt us.”
Jackson laughed and settled back on the blanket. “Fair. Should we eat? What did you bring?”
Grateful for a distraction, Harris busied himself with unpacking the goodies Frank had given them. “Actually, I don’t know. I didn’t pack it.”
He pulled out carefully packed Tupperware containers of pesto caprese slathered on toasted baguette slices, briny olives, thick slabs of manchego cheese topped with quince paste, prosciutto rolled around tangy goat cheese, and figs dipped in honey sprinkled with walnuts.
True to his word, Frank hadn’t packed wine. A bottle of sparkling pink french lemonade had been nestled inside with two glasses. It was perfectly chilled, condensation budding along the glasses as soon as Harris lifted it out of the basket and poured some for them each.
Jackson whistled at the spread. “I always forget how well you guys eat here. Makes me wish I could live here too.”
You could, Harris wanted to say. Anne Marie would hire him in a heartbeat. He got along with all the staff already, and having a highly trained security expert on site would be a huge feather in Camp H.O.W.L.’s hat. But Jackson would be miserable here. He wouldn’t make it a month before he went stir crazy. They helped people here, but it wasn’t the help he was hardwired to give. Jackson needed to be out in the thick of things, putting his life on the line to serve others. It was who he was.
Harris let the moment pass and leaned back on his elbow, popping a fig in his mouth. He’d just promised Jackson he could do casual, and he wasn’t going to start by nagging him to give up all his dreams and come live at Camp H.O.W.L.
“Are you staying all day? I have sessions this afternoon, but I’m free after four.” Heat crept up his neck and spilled onto his cheeks. That didn’t sound too much like a proposition, did it? He was up for that, of course. God, was he up for that. But if Jackson wanted to take things slow and just hang out, that was fine too. He’d take time with his mate any way he could get it.
Jackson swallowed his bite of prosciutto and goat cheese, groaning softly over it. “This is so good,” he murmured. He licked his lips, and Harris had to force himself to look away. “I came with Jordan so I’ll have to check with him, but I think we’d planned to stay the day. We’ll head back tonight. I’m not on shift until Monday evening, but I doubt Jordan would agree to stay another night.”
Harris’s wolf wanted to whine at the thought of Jackson going back so soon, but it made sense. He had a life in Lexington, and after he got the Enforcer job, he’d have a life even farther away in New York. Logically, the short-term arrangement Jackson had proposed made sense. It was too bad Harris’s inner wolf wasn’t much for logic.
Jackson scooted closer, their thighs touching. “I want to kiss you again.”
Harris’s blood surged. “I want you to.”
A feral grin split Jackson’s face. Harris had a moment to wonder if he should have insisted they wait until they were back at his cabin before he gave himself over to the hot, insistent pressure of Jackson’s lips.
Harris’s muscles went weak, and his arm crumpled, sending them tumbling down. Jackson didn’t break the kiss, bracing himself on his forearms so he didn’t crush Harris but still pursuing his mouth like a hungry wolf after quick-footed prey. Harris brought hi
s hands up and ran them over Jackson’s biceps, gratified to feel them shaking. The knowledge that Jackson was as shaken by this as he was gave Harris confidence. He took control of the kiss and urged Jackson to lower himself until they were pressed together from chest to thighs. The weight of him was solid and reassuring. Nothing had ever felt as right as this moment, being pinned to the floor of the boathouse by his mate’s body, limbs intertwined and mouths pressed together.
They rolled to the side, knocking over the lemonade. The bottle clinked against the planks and rolled away, the sticky liquid soaking into their shirts. Harris pulled away and laughed, then rested his head on Jackson’s chest. Jackson’s pulse was rabbit quick. When Harris pressed his mouth there, it fluttered against his lips.
Jackson wiggled his arm between them, grimacing at the mess the lemonade had made of his arm. “This is some Nicholas Sparks shit right here,” he said, drawing another laugh out of Harris.
“I doubt any characters in his books would have crushed their romantic picnic rolling around like teenagers,” he said, sitting up and picking a walnut off the back of Jackson’s shirt.
“Whatever, you love it.”
He did. God help him, he did. And he would be devastated when it was over. But that was a problem for another time. Right now, he wanted to get Jackson in his bed. And maybe his shower. They were both covered in lemonade, and Jackson had honey on his elbow.
Jackson had just leaned in for another kiss when the camp loudspeakers broadcast a high-pitched hum. It took Harris a few seconds to wrap his brain around it.
“Fuck!” He pulled away, looking around wildly.
Jackson seemed to process the alarm tones a few seconds later. He sprang up, grabbing his phone out of his pocket.
“Breach,” he said, flicking his gaze up to Harris, who had pulled his own phone out.
He’d forgotten to turn it back on. Shit. His fingers were shaking as he fumbled with the buttons, urging it to boot faster.
“Far outer fence, quadrant six,” Jackson said. His fingers were flying over the keyboard, probably firing off instructions to all the staff.
Harris took a breath and swallowed back the surprise and panic. He’d only heard the alarm tones during tests. They were high-pitched enough that humans wouldn’t be able to detect them, giving the staff a head start on getting the wolflings to safety before alerting the humans they knew about the breach.
“I’ve got to go clear the buildings,” he barked out.
Protocol called for the camp’s three counselors to take charge of the bunker where the wolflings would hide. Kenya would already be there, opening the secret entry in the infirmary and guiding the wolflings who trickled in down to the safest place on campus. All the instructors would already be ushering their wolflings to the infirmary before reporting to their patrol positions. Kenya would take roll, and he and Nick needed to be in contact to see who was missing and find them.
His phone chirped, and he looked at it, breathing a sigh of relief. Sunday afternoon classes were mandatory. All wolflings had been with an instructor, and everyone was already in the bunker or en route.
“I’m heading to the back fence,” Jackson said, ripping off his sticky shirt. “Take care of yourself, Harry. Get to the bunker. I’ll text as soon as we have an all clear.”
Harris had locked the door behind them so they wouldn’t be interrupted, and Jackson fumbled at the latch with clawed fingers for a moment before getting it open.
As soon as he was outside, Jackson shifted and hit the ground on four paws, leaning in to a sprint as he took off around the lake. Harris kept his phone out in case there were any other updates but ran for the infirmary. He nodded to the staffers he passed, all of them heading to checkpoints and preassigned stations around the camp.
Nick was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Together they carefully placed the panel back in place and lowered the security bar. The seams were undetectable from outside.
“Any idea what the breach is?” he asked, out of breath as they hurried down the stairs.
“None,” Nick said, looking as shell-shocked as Harris felt.
Harris picked up speed when he heard shouting in the bunker. The hidden lower part of the infirmary was full of reinforced underground rooms the wolflings used for their Turn, but it also had a cement panic room that could fit the entire camp if need be. They used it as a place to gather and have breakfast the morning after the Turn.
“This never happens,” he heard someone growl. “Not before you came.”
“It could be a drill,” someone else chimed in.
“At noon on a Sunday?” the first person scoffed. “Right.”
“Hey now.” Harris recognized Richard’s voice. “I can’t say I understand her life choices, but—”
Harris burst into the room, anger simmering under his skin. “Richard,” he barked, “why aren’t you in your quadrant? We need everyone out there in their assigned places.”
He took in the scene in the room. A quick count showed all seventeen wolflings were present, and Kenya was hunched in the corner talking one through a panic attack. That’s right. They had a camper who was claustrophobic this year. He’d gone through his Turn in the infirmary with Drew and Nick because he hadn’t been able to relax downstairs. This had to be a nightmare for him.
“Richard?” he prompted when the other man hadn’t moved.
“I’m not risking my life because some little Hollywood slut exposed us all by coming here,” he hissed.
Harris’s gaze flicked to Candice, who had flinched at Richard’s quiet words. Nick moved toward them, face like a thundercloud.
“I’ve got this,” Harris muttered. “Start getting them calmed down, explain what we know. Last I heard the intruder hadn’t breached the second or third fences. Everyone should be fine. This is just a precaution.”
Harris shot Candice what he hoped was a reassuring smile and grabbed Richard by the shoulder, pushing him hard until he stopped resisting and willingly walked up the stairs. The bunker door required a code to open, and Harris leaned around him and punched it in, not bothering to conceal his fury now that his back was to the room.
He pushed Richard through the door and slammed it behind them, making sure the hidden panel had slid into place before he released Richard and shoved him hard against it.
“What the ever-loving fuck was that?” he asked, seething. “First of all, speaking about a camper like that is never okay. She’s just a kid, Richard, fuck. And second of all, you are a member of this staff. If you want to remain a member of this staff, you will get your ass out there and patrol your section.”
Richard’s eyes flashed amber and he fisted his hands at his sides, hair sprouting along the backs of them. “It’s ridiculous the way everyone here bends over backward for that little bitch,” he spat out. “It’s our duty to keep the wolflings safe, all of them. And we can’t do that with her here. We’re sacrificing all their lives for the sake of one selfish little girl who risks exposing werewolves every time she makes another movie or goes on another talk show. How long before something scares her on set and she shifts? Hmm? How many TV interviews do you think she’ll do before she accidentally flashes her eyes? Her parents should never have let her go into acting, and you’re deluding yourself if you think we’re not signing our own death warrants by letting her continue to do it.”
Harris fired a text off to Anne Marie. There was no way she would keep Richard on staff after this. He grimaced when her response came seconds later.
“You’re done here, Richard,” he said quietly.
Richard reached for the mechanism to detach the panel, but Harris was quicker. He twisted his arm and frog-marched him out to the porch.
“What the hell, Harris? There’s an active threat on the grounds right now!”
“The intruder has been caught. Anne Marie said she’s being taken to the security office. As soon as she’s secured, we’ll get the all clear to let the wolflings out.”
&
nbsp; Richard’s stiff stance eased, and he stopped pushing back against Harris. “Then I’ll—”
“You’ll go wait for Anne Marie in her office,” Harris said flatly. “I meant it when I said you’re done here. You’ve proven yourself a coward and a bully, and we don’t tolerate either at Camp H.O.W.L.”
Richard’s jaw dropped. “You don’t have the authority to fire me.”
Actually, he did. He was Anne Marie’s deputy director. He could do whatever was necessary to keep the camp safe, and as far as he was concerned, Richard humiliating a wolfling in front of her entire cohort was ample reason to fire him. His refusal to follow security protocols left part of the camp unprotected, which was just as bad.
Anne Marie would have the honor of getting him off the grounds. Harris had to get back in there and make sure Candice was okay.
Chapter Eight
HARRIS was arguing on the porch with a staffer Jackson didn’t know when he and Jordan walked by with the intruder held between them. Her wrists were bound with an industrial zip tie.
Jackson hadn’t expected to find a selkie when he’d rushed out to the scene of the breach. Scott and Jordan got there first, and they had her subdued by the time Jackson ran up. Their protocols were aimed at human intruders, not other supernaturals. The werewolf camps were well known among the supernatural community, and everyone steered clear. The Tribunal took a harsh stance toward anyone interfering with wolflings. Werewolves gave the same courtesy to other supernatural communities—you didn’t mess with anyone’s children. Period.
There wasn’t much infighting among the different supernatural groups. They were solitary and stuck to their own communities. Not many could pass in human society like Weres could, which was a point of contention. But today’s break-in hadn’t been about jealousy or resentment—it had been about greed, pure and simple.