Authors: Susan Laine
“Dak, what are you doing here?” he asked, not sure whether to get his hopes up or brace for the worst. “How did you find me?”
Finally tearing his gaze away from Denver, Dak glared at Jim. “Daniel told me. You sent him a thank-you letter. Your address was on it.” He frowned, looking puzzled. “I didn’t think people wrote letters anymore.”
Jim held back a frustrated sigh. “I do. Call me old-fashioned.”
“That’s not the word I was thinking of.” Dak’s fierce glance at Denver made them both growl again.
Jim was so livid he shook with rage. “What’s it to you who I hold hands with, or more? I’m not your property. In fact, I’m not your anything. You turned me down, remember?”
At that remark Dak faced Jim again. His sullen look gave way to sorrow and pain, but he quickly returned to his familiar blank mask. “Yes. You’re right.” He looked like he was ready to bolt or struggling really hard to apologize.
Either way, Jim was all out of patience. “After the way you treated me, you have no right to act jealous. If that is indeed the cause for your behavior.” He crossed his arms over his chest, going for the tough look. “What do you want?”
Seemingly of two minds, Dak wavered.
Denver took over. “Jim? I think I’ll go back to my hotel. You two need to sort this out on your own.” He walked over to Jim, who didn’t want the man to go for several reasons. Soothing his anxieties, Denver smiled and rubbed a thumb across Jim’s cheekbone, just above his trimmed beard. “I’m not leaving town. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Then he kissed Jim on the cheek, close to where his finger had lingered. “I had a great time today. If you and Dak don’t work things out, I’d love to take you out again. On a proper date.”
Jim grinned, blushing. “Like dinner and a movie?”
“And making out in the back of the car.” Denver winked. “Or is that too cheesy?”
Jim shook his head. “Nope. I’d love it.”
“Good. You deserve to be pampered a bit. Properly romanced.” Denver actually cooed then.
Jim rolled his eyes. “Stop it, will you, really! Go on. I’ll see you later.”
Bussing Jim’s cheek one more time, soft and warm, Denver left the apartment.
An awkward silence reigned for a minute. It seemed Dak was in no hurry to break the ice, so Jim asked, “Why are you here, Dak? You made your point, believe me.” The sting of being rejected was still there, burning hot one minute, icy cold the next, not lessened in the slightest by the time and distance between them.
Dak swallowed visibly, his gaze all over the place but on Jim. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to interrupt….” His shoulders slumped in defeat. Then he grew aggravated and tore off his jacket and tie, threw them on the floor, and popped open a few top buttons of his shirt. “I hate formal wear.”
“I didn’t think you’d even own any.”
“I don’t. This is borrowed.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes.” Then Dak stopped fidgeting and finally looked at Jim straight on. “I came here to apologize for my horrendous behavior. For throwing you out, for being crude and inhospitable… for being violent.”
The sudden burst of violence had made Jim recoil from any notion of actually being with Dak. His body might have wanted the man still, but Jim’s mind felt fear, and his heart held only doubt. How could he forgive?
Dak frowned, perhaps sensing Jim’s emotional
uncertainty. “I know it’s no excuse, but I have lived alone for so long I have become a cantankerous, grumpy old man, set in my ways, in need of some training.” Jim had a sudden mental image of a dog training school and tried his best not to snicker out loud. When he refocused on Dak, the man looked like a whipped dog, miserable and sad. “I am truly, truly sorry, Jim.”
Jim wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget. “How long have you been alone? Daniel hinted that it was long before the Veil lifted. A lot of folks from both sides went out on their own after that, seeking hidden shelter wherever.”
Dak ran a hand through his thick mane. “Let’s just say I missed the twentieth century in its entirety.”
“Jesus.” Jim didn’t know what to say to that. Dak had apparently lived in isolation for so long that crucial events of the world, whole monumental historical events, had passed him by.
Dak’s mind apparently ran a similar course. “I know how it sounds. And considering the way I behaved with you, you’d be right in drawing those conclusions. I’m a misanthrope.”
Jim snorted, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. I don’t believe that.”
Dak’s hazel eyes flashed golden. “Oh?”
“I don’t know for sure but, uh, I think you don’t want to be alone, but you don’t want to lose any more people, either. You told me as much back at the cabin.”
The intense flames in Dak’s eyes flared higher, and he lurched forward so fast that he stood in front of Jim in a blink of an eye. “Yes, I told you this.” A low purr emanated from Dak’s throat, and Jim was immediately rock hard in his pants. “I’ve lost… too many good men, good lovers.”
Jim peered up at Dak, whose voice had turned husky. “Didn’t any of them wish to be bitten?”
Dak shook his head. “No.” He sounded angry and embarrassed at once. “I’m a difficult man to live with. I can’t live in a town. I need the wilderness around me, the trees to shadow my steps, the rain to wash me clean, the sun to beat down on me, all of nature within my grasp. Even before civilization’s machines, technologies, and luxuries, my lovers had a tendency to seek others for companionship.”
Jim frowned. “I don’t understand. You mean they were unfaithful to you?”
Dak’s hands touched Jim’s hips, then gripped them, and Dak pulled Jim near until their lower bodies pressed together. Dak was hard too, Jim noted with no small amount of glee. “I don’t mean sex. I’m a loner. I can go for days without talking. Even my mates….” He closed his eyes briefly. “Even my lovers found that tedious.”
“You mean you weren’t there for them when they needed you?” Jim was confused, and he tried to follow Dak’s explanation. Considering they were both aroused, it was hard to focus, but Jim did his best not to yield to his passions.
Dak shrugged, but the gesture was anything but casual. “Even if I was just out running in the woods at full moon, they’d get jealous and sullen and bored, and then they’d leave to go to places where people had fun.”
Jim could tell it took a lot for Dak to admit this. No wonder he’d had such a strong reaction to Jim mentioning fun. “Fun…. Shit, Dak, that’s not how I meant it. And I’m not them.”
Dak bent down to press their foreheads together, sounding breathless. “I know, Jim. I know that now.” His breath was hot and smelled like honey mead.
Jim could scarcely draw breath himself. “So… you’re here to—what exactly?”
Dak peered into Jim’s eyes, into the depth of his soul. “I did come here to apologize. Mostly.” Jim quirked an eyebrow, hoping the gesture would be enough encouragement for Dak to continue. “Back at the cabin, I could foresee claiming you as mine. As my mate. I could foresee me biting you, marking you as mine. But… I could also see you, the big city journalist, trying to live with me in that tiny cabin with not even an indoor toilet—and I saw you leaving me, same as all the others.”
“I thought they died.”
“A few did. Most left. Other progenitors claimed them when my mark waned.”
Jim swallowed hard, his eyes widening. “That can happen?”
Dak nodded ruefully. “With us progenitors, the mating bite must be renewed from time to time. Only the bite of immortality is permanent.”
Jim let out a shaky breath. “I… I don’t have all the answers, Dak. I can’t promise I’ll be—”
Dak gripped Jim’s chin hard, silencing him. “I don’t want you to promise anything.”
That felt like a denial somehow, Jim thought, emotional about the whole thing. “I want to be able to promise something.”
Dak nodded solemnly. “Honesty. That is all I ask of you. I know better than to expect too much commitment these days.”
Jim sighed, shaking his head. “These days of fun, right? Well, I can tell you it hasn’t been a lot of fun since you kicked me out.” Dak was about to speak, but Jim stopped him. “As for honesty. My research subject—werewolves—was the only thing I hid at the cabin. I don’t have any other secrets.”
Dak growled with obvious jealousy. “Denver?”
Jim was tempted to roll his eyes, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he sighed. “He’s not you. And I think he knows that.” Jim looked down where their bodies joined. “A part of me wishes I did want him. He’s a great guy.”
Dak stiffened. “Then maybe you should—”
Jim’s eyes shot up to lock with Dak’s. “You came all this way to reject me again?”
Dak’s nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed golden. “No.”
Then he cupped the back of Jim’s neck and pressed his lips to Jim’s mouth. Soft and warm gave way to firm and hot as their kiss deepened. Dak tasted of honey and himself, and smelled of pines and earth, and Jim was entranced by it. He parted his lips more to allow Dak to do what he wished, which was apparently a lot since his hot, slick tongue explored Jim’s mouth as if it were a treasure trove, greedy and demanding.
When they parted, Jim was panting roughly, and so was Dak.
“I know I have no right to ask,” Dak started, his voice hoarse. “But could you consider perhaps…?”
Holding his breath and waiting to hear the words, Jim was suddenly struck by a cold sweat, a sense of unease that spread through his entire being at the sight of Dak’s eyes shifting to wolf golden. The man sniffed the air and cocked his head to the side, as if listening to a faraway sound.
So fast that Jim couldn’t see it, Dak was across the room at the balcony door, which was ajar to let chilly air blow in from the river.
“Dak? What’s wrong?” Jim rushed closer.
But Dak was on the balcony now, leaning over the black metal railing, cold and wet from rain. His gaze was focused on something happening below on the street. Jim leaned over to see as well. They were on the ninth floor, and whatever was down there was mere specks.
But even Jim could hear rough sounds of a fight in the alleyway between the two high-rise apartment buildings. High-pitched shrieks and growly barks sounded, metal dins of breaking dumpsters, and the sound of scuffles reached up with the fickle winds.
“What the—”
“It’s Denver,” Dak growled. “He’s being attacked. I’m going in.”
And after saying that, Dak jumped over the railing, using the rails, cracks in the walls, and windowsills to scale down the building so fast he was just a blur. Jim gasped in fear, but Dak appeared unharmed, and then his huge form dropped down in the middle of the fight.
Jim had no desire to be a mere onlooker. He whisked around and ran toward the door with every intention of going down there to see what was happening. He grabbed his jacket and yanked the front door open.
Three men the size of wardrobes stood just outside his door, apparently waiting for him to emerge.
Before Jim could even draw a breath, he was gagged with a piece of cloth, and a black hood was pulled over his head. His wrists and legs were bound tight, and he was wrapped in some kind of floral-scented sack. He was picked up and hoisted over the shoulder of one of the men, and then he was being taken away from his home, carried to whatever fate awaited him at the hands of these strangers.
By then Jim was almost knocked out by the sickly sweet smell that invaded the entire rough sack he was encased in. He tried to breathe, but his breathing grew labored and hot, and his skin felt wrong, tingling, and uncomfortable. He tried to moan or whimper at least to make some noise, but nothing came out of his constricted throat.
They stepped into an elevator. From the smell, the metallic clattering, and the overall wobbliness, he guessed it to be the service elevator at the back of the building. The descent was fast. Jim tried to wiggle, but his captor kept a strict hold on him.
The echoes suggested they came out of the elevator in the parking level. Sounds of shoes on concrete and car doors opening and slamming shut rang in his ears, and smells of gas, engines, and cars wafted over him. Then he was unceremoniously dumped into the back of a big car that took off almost immediately after the door banged shut.
Jim struggled to free himself, feeling claustrophobic.
Suddenly, new hands were on him, steadying him, and a soothing voice said, “Relax, Mr. Faulkner. Stay still, and I’ll remove the restraints.” It was the low seductive purr of a man.
Jim stilled, waiting for his release, remarkably patient for a kidnapping victim.
Strong, gentle hands removed the cloth he was wrapped in, unbound his feet and then his wrists, and snatched off the hood. Jim practically ripped the gag out himself, coughing at the dry roughness in his throat.
Blinking, Jim found himself in the back of a limousine, on the floor and at the feet of a tall, well-built man in his late thirties or early forties. The man had a smug smile on his face, and the same emotion reflected from his green eyes under pitch-black hair slicked back stylishly. His features appeared almost oriental, the almond shape of his eyes seemingly confirming Jim’s impression. Like his spicy cologne, his dark suit was expensive and elegant, and he wore it well.
“You’re older than I would have preferred, but no matter. You will do just fine.”
Though Jim had a sneaky suspicion and a cold knot in his gut, he still asked, “Do for what?”
The man chuckled. “For me, of course. Jim Faulkner, I’m Aethelwulf, the prime of the progenitors, the highest among the kingmakers. And you are to be my mate.”
Jim’s blood ran cold, and fainting once more in his life felt like a real possibility.
J
IM
HAD
never set foot on a private jet. Now that he was staring at one in the secluded hangar the limousine had stopped in, he was in awe. Closing his open mouth with an audible snap, he tried to appear nonchalant. Luxury wasn’t something he was used to—abducted or not.
When Aethelwulf exited the vehicle, Jim pleaded, “Please, don’t do this. Let me go. I don’t want to be your mate.”
Aethelwulf cupped Jim’s cheek, the act surprisingly tender. “I will take care of you, Mr. Faulkner. You will want for nothing.”