A Cowboy in Ravenna

by Jan Irving

  “You helped me.”

  Trin’s eyes focused on his face. “You. I saw you. You needed me.”

  Chace nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

  Trin swallowed. “Just now I thought I caught the sound of Sage’s heartbeat. It had this little jump, just like when he was a kid—”

  “Nothing now?” But he already knew.

  “No.” Trin was shivering.

  Shock, Chace thought. “Hang on.”

  Chace stalked through the parked vehicles right to the big man with espresso. “Scusi.” He took the cup, saw the man’s violet-coloured eyes widen before Chace turned and retraced his steps. “Drink,” he told Trin. He put the tiny cup in Trin’s hands, steadying them. “You’re like ice. Drink the fucking thing!”

  Trin downed it like a belt of whisky.

  “He looks as if he could use it,” the original owner of the espresso said.

  “Yeah.” Chace took the cup from Trin and then handed it back to the stranger. “Excuse us.”

  The man cocked a brow. “You are very certain of yourself, young American. This is not your land.”

  Trin was suddenly in front of Chace, all taut back muscles stretching his shirt, his fists balled. “Hey!” Chace growled.

  “He is to be blood of my blood,” Trin said.

  Kinda poetic, Chace thought. But he still didn’t like being shoved behind his big man like…like a delicate flower for freakin’ sake.

  “Ah, I thought so. I’m Aberto. I am second to our alpha, Marcello Rossi.”

  “You’re also too close to my mate. Back off.”

  Aberto’s eyes widened. “Listen, cowboy…”

  “Whoa, Trin.” Chace gripped Trin’s arm, and got a shot to the heart of pure wild feeling for his trouble. Trin was riding some powerful emotions and he had no intention of dialling them down. He wanted to pick a fight.

  “I would like to meet your alpha.”

  “Are you sure?” Aberto asked coldly. “The last time he was shown disrespect, Marcello tore out the throat of his challenger. I especially enjoyed eating the heart of that unfortunate man, though not to gain strength, you understand. Only because he was tasty.”

  “Yuck,” Chace said.

  Trin’s gaze held steady on Aberto. “I’m sure I want to meet him.”

  Aberto tossed the espresso cup to the ground, shattering gold and porcelain. “I’ll get him for you.” He smiled and left.

  “You’re going to fight Marcello, aren’t you?”

  “You know why.” Trin took off his blue denim shirt, revealing huge biceps and the black wifebeater underneath.

  “For Sabin.”

  “He had internal injuries, Chace. Marcello beat him so he’d hurt. If Sabin were a human, he would have died. And from what Calhoun says, Marcello has to be a part of the ring that sells our kids.”

  Damn, where was Calhoun? They seriously could use some back up, Chace thought, but he hadn’t seen him since they’d left the car. Calhoun had picked a great time to pull a Houdini.

  “Hurt Marcello.”

  “That’s my boy. Spot me, will you?”

  Chace crouched and Trin used his shoulder to balance himself as he removed his boots. “Do you have anything to say?” Trin asked.

  “You ask me that now? You’ve got the ball rolling, and I mean that in the Indiana Jones ‘about to get crushed by a boulder’ sense.” The other shifters were watching them, sizing up Trin.

  “Sage would like you. He loved Indy,” Trin said.

  Aberto returned with a huge man with long black hair done in braids, wearing a biker’s jacket big enough for a linebacker. The man’s eyes were so dark Chace couldn’t see the pupils. He was decorated with silver loops through his bottom lip and both his ears, one of which looked chewed, as if it had been torn in some kind of fight.

  His dead eyes stared first at Trin and then at Chace. The message was clear, After I deal with him, I’ll have you, little human, and I won’t be gentle.

  The crowd of shifters pressed closer, so Chace could feel their hot, breathless anticipation. Blood turned them on.

  “I’d like to talk Indy with Sage first hand,” Chace said. “We can share our dislike for the heroine in the second movie who screamed at the drop of a hat. Speaking of which, I think I can relate to her problem right now…”

  Trin kissed Chace, transmitting hunger, possession, promise. “You better stand back.”

  Chace didn’t.

  “Chace.”

  “Fuck you, I’m not backing away. If you bleed, it’ll splash me I’ll be so close.”

  Trin’s eyes lit.

  “Jesus, don’t get so turned on you can’t fight!” Chace muttered, heart pounding. Obviously fighting also brought out the beast in his lover. “Wait!” He pulled Trin’s head down to his, gave him a stern look. “I don’t want barbecued cowboy tonight, you hear me?”

  “I won’t fall,” Trin said. “I won’t let that bastard touch you.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You can take it to the bank, baby.”

  Chace made himself step away. If he could, he’d be the one facing Marcello.

  The alpha hadn’t said a word, neither in Italian nor English. Those flat eyes stared, devoid of hunger or any recognisable emotion.

  Trin gave Chace his cowboy hat and Chace crushed the brim in his sweaty hand. He was going to be sick. He forced a ‘go get ‘em’ smile for Trin.

  “You’re too close.” Sabin tugged Chace back. His lip was bleeding and he had another shiner to go with the fading one. Lovely.

  “Let go.” Chace shrugged off Sabin’s hand.

  “Look, I couldn’t stay,” Sabin said. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you and your mate did for me.”

  “Whatever.” It was stupid, but finding Sabin gone had hurt Chace. What did he expect? Sabin had trust issues. Looking at his face now, Chace could easily see why.

  “You shouldn’t be here. You’re too soft, too human.”

  “Hello? You said I had to come.”

  “So I was wrong.”

  Marcello circled Trin. Trin tracked him with his eyes. Christ, when were they going to go for each other?

  “Trin’s doing this for you,” Chace said. “Because he doesn’t want Marcello to hurt you anymore.”

  “He’s going to lose and then Marcello will tear you apart. Come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

  “I’m not leaving Trin.”

  “Are you challenged or something?”

  “No, it’s called loyalty. It’s a new concept for you, I know.” He shouldn’t have said that, but shit, watching, anticipating this fight tightened his body, muscle by muscle. He pictured himself leaping between Trin and Marcello -- as insane as that would be -- just to get some kind of action.

  Trin glared at him. Chace could almost hear Trin warning him not to be his impulsive self.

  Marcello attacked.

  “Trin!”

  They went down, Marcello on top, his teeth at Trin’s throat. Dust spat in a fat puff into the air. Trin grunted. Dirt and blood hit Chace’s shoes.

  Marcello hit Trin with his huge fist, again and again. Everything went to slow mo as Chace watched like it was some kind of bizarre representational art—Trin’s teeth clicking together, blood spray, rolling bodies, wet thudding sounds of fist hitting flesh.

  Trin struck Marcello’s neck and Marcello cried out. Trin had him!

  A hand grabbed Chace’s ankle, yanked—

  Chace fell on his ass, the warm rain of Marcello’s blood and sweat hitting his face. And gah, he had halitosis or something, because his breath smelt sweet but nauseating. Maybe they’d frozen the guy they’d claimed to have eaten and Marcello had munched on leftovers before the meeting.

  Marcello panted, one hand around Chace’s throat. “I’ll kill your boy!”

  But no way was Chace making it easy. He nailed Marcello in the throat with his elbow just as Trin had taught him, because he’d wanted to show Chace how to handle
himself in a bar fight if necessary. On a human, Chace’s move would have smashed Marcello’s windpipe, but shifters were tough.

  Marcello’s breath whistled in and out as if he were trying to do really good yogic breath. He yanked Chace’s hair. “Be…still.”

  “Come on, hair pulling?” Chace laughed.

  Marcello’s eyes widened. Apparently Chace’s words had been disrespectful. Oh, good. Maybe he’d also beat the shit of Chace before he…

  Everything stopped, even the light.

  The rippling light from the bonfire was obscured.

  The moon disappeared.

  Chace blinked. What the fuck?

  A huge shadow fell over them and Marcello froze, his olive skin paling to aged bone. He looked up.

  Chace broke free, rolling back to the edge of the circle. Sabin grabbed him.

  A blast of sound like a dragon’s roar. Chace and Sabin huddled together as a nightmare twenty feet in height towered over the fighting ground. The carnival atmosphere had shattered. People screamed and fell back, knocking into Chace and Sabin.

  Marcello climbed to his feet and spat blood at the feet of the monster. Okay, so Marcello wasn’t a coward—for it was a monster.

  Trin had told Chace that shifters became wolves. Okay, he was down with that since he’d at least seen werewolf movies, and Trin’s partially transformed state had been…frankly hot. But this…it was like a piece of the night. Golden eyes with an eerie kind of intelligence examined Chace and Sabin, and then Marcello. The creature was covered with silken dark fur that moved like black water. Chace had a weird desire to put his hand on that fur. The creature’s lip curled back and giant teeth were exposed, on the scale of a T-Rex.

  Marcello jerked a handgun out of his jeans’ pocket and fired.

  The giant wolf roared.

  Chace screamed, grabbing his face.

  “Chace, what the fuck?” Sabin gasped. “Chace, dammit!”

  “Hurts…” And Chace knew. The monster was Trin because Chace lived the pain through their special connection.

  Through Trin’s remaining eye, Chace saw the tiny man fire again, felt a chunk of his flesh explode from his chest.

  Chace shoved Sabin off him, running for Marcello. Stop him. Stop him.

  A giant paw swiped and Marcello flew, crashing into a tree. The alpha slid, limp, no longer hurting…hurting us.

  Oh shit, he was going to be sick. He heard the creature stagger closer to him.

  “Chace, get away from there!” Calhoun’s voice.

  But as he and Sabin approached the beast, it growled.

  “Don’t…” Chace panted. “Stay back.”

  “It’ll kill him,” Sabin said. “Chace!”

  “No, he won’t,” Calhoun said, grabbing Sabin and holding him. Sabin fought, snaking his supple body, but Calhoun only crushed him closer, immobilising him.

  “Oh, God, your eye,” Chace whispered as he reached up—way up—and stroked bloody fur. One golden eye looked at him while the other was a crater, oozing liquid.

  The creature whimpered.

  “We need to help you, Trin. We can’t while you’re like this.”

  Hurts. The pain was Trin’s, the pain was Chace’s. Calhoun made another attempt to approach them but Trin’s bellow split the night.

  “I can’t help until he settles down.” Calhoun’s drawl was gone. “Chace, try to calm him.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Chace said. He leaned against the creature’s bulk, feeling its hot laboured breath against his face. It nudged him, asking…

  The creature wanted to die.

  Chapter Ten

  The key to saving Trin wasn’t Chace’s limited knowledge of shifters. He knew that. The key was being himself, being the person who had brought Trin to life once before, when Trin had first come to the ranch. Switch. They’d figured out Chace was a switch. He could use that.

  “Trin.” He deepened his tone, squared his shoulders and stared into that single eye, blank with dumb agony. His own face was wet but he dashed away the moisture. He’d cry if he lost Trin and not before.

  The creature focused on him.

  “Trin, I am not afraid of you. I accept you,” Chace said. He stroked silky fur. “You accepted me, right?” His voice cracked so he cleared his throat. “Remember when my dad called me a pussy because I was afraid to ride? You asked to see my leg, asked me how often it hurt me. You took the time to understand why I was scared to fall off a horse. Then you worked with me to get through it.”

  Chace huffed out a breath. “It wasn’t easy for me and this isn’t going to be easy for you. But we’ve gone through some tough times together. Let me help you now. I will keep you safe.”

  It might have been absurd to tell this giant beast that he, a mere human, would protect him, but even dangerous, ginormous beasts needed protection.

  “Come on, you can do this.” He told Trin what Trin had once told him.

  And Trin was suddenly lying in the dirt—thin body, big arms, the knobs of his back standing out like a frail model of the human skeletal system. He was bloody and bruised and still missing an eye.

  “Oh God.” Breathe, Chace told himself. Breathe through this… But holy shit, now what?

  Calhoun said, “I got him.” He lifted Trin into his arms. The streak of white in Trin’s hair, the tan lines on his arms, he’d never looked more…ordinary than in Calhoun’s arms.

  “Hospital,” Chace said. “Where’s the nearest—”

  “They can’t help him.” Calhoun’s voice was gentle, as if he knew how close to breaking down Chace was. He carried Trin closer to the abandoned fire. Even with Calhoun’s six-six height, he grunted as he laid Trin beside it.

  Sabin covered his mouth, staring at Trin.

  “Is your mate dead?” Calhoun asked Sabin in a cool voice.

  “I…” Sabin blinked, as if he hadn’t thought of Marcello.

  “Find the hell out. And if you’re going to faint, do it elsewhere,” Calhoun told him.

  Sabin’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Fuck you.”

  But Sabin was apparently now invisible to Calhoun, who was busy examining Trin. “The fire will keep him warm. You’ll both need that.”

  “What are you going to do?” Chace asked. He wanted to drape himself over Trin’s body and hold on. Just…hold on. But he knew that wasn’t very fucking helpful. He had to keep it together.

  Calhoun nodded at him, respect in his eyes. “You’re not just a pretty boy, are you?”

  “I’m screaming inside,” he said, gripping Trin’s limp hand, seeing the nicks and scars of an outdoor life. “Help him.” His tone said, or else.

  Calhoun gave him a smile, twisted because of the scarring that ran like a bolt of lightning down his face. “Damn,” he said, admiration in his tone. Then his voice chilled. “I’m going to cut you and you’re going to hold your palm over his eye so your blood will mingle.”

  “But what about infection? Is that really a good idea?”

  “He’s not human, or did you miss the whole King Kong thing he pulled?”

  “I got the news flash, thanks.” Chace pushed the hair out of Trin’s eyes. “What is he? He told me he could shift into a wolf but that…creature was a very big wolf.”

  “He’s a shadow shifter,” Calhoun said absently as he held a knife blade as long as Chace’s forearm over the flames. “They’re shaman shifters, shifters who have walked other worlds. They can project their shadow side in extreme situations, when they or especially their loved ones are threatened.”

  “Marcello didn’t know what he is.” Chace couldn’t imagine the alpha shifter would have been dumb enough to tangle with that.

  Calhoun shook his head. “Probably just fighting with Marcello wouldn’t have triggered the creature to come out, but Marcello also threatened you. Bad idea.”

  “Bad for Marcello.”

  Calhoun nodded. “Hope he’s not dead.”

  Chace was surprised.

  “He has a s
afe house in Siena. I’m going to head there soon and check it out.”

  “So the kids aren’t here? Trin thought…” Chace swallowed as Calhoun removed the blade from the fire and waved it, letting it cool. He guessed heating it had been Calhoun’s form of rough and ready sterilisation.

  “No, some of them are definitely here. As soon as I do what I can for Trin, I’ll go looking,” Calhoun said. “The kids were set to be sold to some buyers from South America. Shifter kids are really attractive in the sex slave trade. You can beat them up, deprive them of food, all kinds of fucking abuse and they go on living… If you can call it that.”

  “When we first arrived, Trin thought Sage was here. He sensed him.”

  But if he thought the news would electrify Calhoun he was wrong. “When Sage first went missing Trin frequently thought he was close by. He was pretty messed up.”

  “I don’t know. It felt pretty real.”

  “You caught it too?” Calhoun looked surprised. “Good. If your bond with Trin is that strong, you might have a shot in healing him.”

  Chace pretended the hand Calhoun took wasn’t his. He couldn’t look away as the blade pressed into his palm, sliced fast. Blood welled up like dark jewels. “I don’t understand what bleeding all over him will do.” Chace panted. Damn, that hurt. Only on TV could someone cut himself without pain.

  “Mate’s blood. Only blood stronger is the blood of family, but we don’t have that.”

  Dizzy. Not from blood loss, but from looking at the cut on his palm and then at Trin’s missing eye…

  Calhoun held Chace’s palm over Trin’s wound. Chace focused on the rest of Trin’s face, seeing dirt and bruises. Trin just looked tired that way, not maimed.

  “Marcello’s still alive. Aberto’s with him,” Sabin said in a weary voice. He knelt beside Calhoun. “You sure that will help Trin, blood from a human?” He made it sound like Chace’s blood was a bad vintage or something, but he let it go.

  A weird sliding sensation was pushing behind his eyes and rushing through the top of his head. The fire blurred, became gold, red and amethyst snakes, then slowed. It was very strange, like seeing each individual flap of a hummingbird’s wings.