“The problem, Mr. Ballsy, is that I don’t feel grateful at all. In fact, I’m kind of pissed. I don’t suppose you feel grateful that you haven’t been eaten by a bear. Yet. You’re probably just pissed that one lives right in the middle of your territory.” The squirrel cheeped with a sound like a broken smoke alarm. “Yeah. That’s what I think.” Tanner broke up the last biscuit and tossed it to the squirrel too. But as his breakfast guest pounced on the latest offering, ripples broke the smooth surface of the lake.
What the . . . Tanner could have sworn that the lake had been empty, but then he couldn’t see its entire surface from where he sat—the forest marched right down to its shore on the side of the cabin opposite the lodge. On the other hand, this was the wilderness. So maybe it was some kind of water fowl.
The ripples lapped against the shore. Sheesh. Must be a honking big duck. Faintly, Tanner heard a laugh, the acoustics of the valley and the lake making it sound deceptively close. That’s no duck.
Tanner squinted as the first crescent of the sun peeped above the hills. From behind the screen of the trees, someone stroked into view. Or rather, two someones. Because a very large man was floating on his back with a smaller man pillowed on his front.
The two men reached the dock below the lodge’s wide deck. The passenger got out first, and yikes. He was naked and, um, not apparently affected by swimming in a lake at the tail end of winter. As the rising sun gilded his wet hair with gold, something, some near-forgotten memory snagged in Tanner’s mind. But then the other man heaved himself up onto the dock—effortlessly—and he was definitely . . . in proportion. He reached for the smaller man and Tanner clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to be an unintentional Peeping Tom, but if he stood up now, they’d see the movement. He peeked out of one eye. The big man was cradling the other man’s face in his hands, and even from this distance, Tanner could see the tenderness in that touch, and the love that shone in the smaller man’s face when he smiled up at his partner. He stroked the big man’s reddish beard.
But then his gaze shifted beyond the big man’s shoulder and he saw Tanner, and suddenly he was right there, still wet from the lake—still naked—his eyes glowing red and his fangs . . . Gods, he has fangs.
Ballsy Squirrel zipped off into the trees—guess he’s smarter than he looks—because . . . “Y-you’re a vampire?” The big man shouted something and started pounding up the path. “B-but it’s daylight.”
The vampire took a menacing step forward, although his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Pfaugh. Werewolf. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I, um—”
“Cas.” The big guy arrived—if he could move that fast, he had to be a supe too, but Tanner didn’t detect any obvious signs. “Stand down.”
The vampire—Cas—turned to the other man. “Elmer. He saw us. Saw me. You know what that could mean if anyone else finds out.” Cas glanced at Tanner with obvious contempt. “A little mesmer should do the trick. Let me—”
Elmer—Really? Who named their kid Elmer?—took Cas’s shoulder in one big hand. “He’s a werewolf. Don’t you think using mesmer on a werewolf will give the game away too?”
“But that’s the beauty of mesmer.” Cas flashed a fang-filled grin. “He won’t remember.”
“No.” Elmer smiled apologetically at Tanner. “Sorry about the, er, unintentional show. You won’t say anything, will you?”
Tanner shook his head wildly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s okay.” Elmer gazed down fondly at Cas. “It was our own fault. We should have realized somebody else might be around.” He looped an arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Come on, Casimir, before we terrorize anybody else.”
Cas sniffed, but the red faded from his eyes. “You’re far too forgiving.”
“Well, one of us has to be.” Elmer raised a hand in farewell, then led Cas back toward the lodge, the rising sun tinting their skin—including two truly stellar asses—with rosy gold.
Tanner’s heart stopped galloping in his chest by the time they disappeared into a door underneath the lodge deck.
A vampire out in the daylight. Maybe a werewolf living packless wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world these days.
Chase had a moment of panic when he woke to find Tanner gone, and when he heard voices outside, the panic spiked higher. He leaped out of bed to find his clothes. He shoved one leg into his jeans, then lost his balance and hopped across the floor, banging his shoulder into the wall before he could untangle the other leg. He shoved his arms into his shirt sleeves as he raced through the cabin, but when he yanked open the door, Tanner was sitting calmly on the top step. Alone.
He glanced over his shoulder and met Chase’s gaze. “Morning.” He frowned. “Are you okay?”
Chase peered into the trees, but didn’t see anybody. “I thought I heard voices. Were you talking to someone?”
Tanner’s cheeks warmed in Chase’s thermal vision and he turned his gaze to the lake. “Just a squirrel.”
“Really? I could have sworn— Never mind.” He ambled across the porch and dropped down next to Tanner, close enough to brush shoulders. “How are you doing this morning?”
Tanner glanced at him with a faint smile. “It’s definitely a good news/bad news kind of morning. The yin and yang of emotions.”
“Yin and yang, huh?”
“Yeah.” Tanner gazed out over the lake, squinting into the rising sun, his hands clasped between his knees. “How long do you suppose it will take for Mal or Hugh to come back for us?”
“I don’t know.” Chase put his hand, palm up, on Tanner’s thigh. Tanner flashed him a more heartfelt smile and laced his fingers with Chase’s. “I’d kind of hoped that someone would have given us an update by now.” He shaded his eyes and studied the lodge. There was no activity on its wide decks or surrounding lawns, although the grounds seemed almost ridiculously lush and manicured, more so than yesterday. “Ted’s obviously been busy with this wedding prep, so a couple of freeloading weres probably aren’t high on his agenda.”
Tanner bent his head, gazing at their joined hands. “I wonder . . .”
“You wonder what?” Chase pressed a kiss behind Tanner’s ear, unreasonably smug when it elicited a shiver. You wonder if we have time to go to bed again? You wonder if we can have anything more? You wonder if I love you? This time, Chase shivered, because, gods damn it, it was true. But he couldn’t say anything. Not to Tanner. It would only make things worse when the inevitable parting occurred.
“I wonder if I should call my uncle. Let him know that I’m okay.”
Chase stifled a rueful laugh. So much for my egotistical fantasies. “I kind of think that the point of a safe house is that nobody knows where you are except the people who sent you there.”
Tanner gave Chase a get real, dude stare. “And Ted. And half the population of Dewton. And . . . Never mind. But you talked to him, right? When did he say he was coming to get me?”
Chase frowned, trying to calculate the days. Time had taken on an unreal quality—spooling out as slow as glacier creep when he’d discovered Tanner’s disappearance, but galloping like a runaway mustang shifter ever since they’d found him under that fricking stream bank. The moments were slipping through Chase’s fingers before he could grab them. Memories. The taste of Tanner’s kiss. The scent of his hair. The glow of his skin in the candlelight. Chase clung to them fiercely, willing himself to remember every second, every sensation.
But it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d found Tanner missing; less than that since they’d been together. Not enough. Not ever enough.
“He didn’t give a specific pickup date. It was dependent on the state of the roads, I think.”
Tanner’s grip tightened on Chase’s hand. “What will he think if he shows up at the Doghouse and I’m not there—if neither one of us is there?”
“The other guys will be there. I left Dakota in charge. He’s pretty levelheaded by now.”
“Do they know why you left Dakota in charge?”
“You mean because you’re missing? Yeah, I questioned them when I got back from suspension. That’s how I . . .” Chase met Tanner’s stricken gaze. “Shit.”
“Jordan,” they said at once.
“There’s no way Jordan can keep a secret, even if he knows it’s a secret.” Tanner let go of Chase to grip his hair with both hands. “He’d just bounce up to Uncle Patrick and say, ‘Hi! Are you Tanner’s uncle? Do you know where he is yet?’ Uncle Patrick will be frantic.”
Chase pried Tanner’s fingers loose before he snatched himself bald. “I don’t remember if he said he was coming himself. I’m pretty sure he said we, but that might just be the alpha we.”
“Even if he sends a couple of the betas, do you think they won’t report to Uncle Patrick first thing?” Tanner pivoted to face Chase, his eyes pleading. “I won’t tell him where I am. Just that I’m okay. Maybe I can suggest that he hold off a couple of days before sending the guys in to help me. That’s safe, right? Otherwise, he could raise an outcry and then everybody would be looking for me.”
Chase’s instinct to claim Tanner, to keep him for himself, warred with logic and responsibility. Tanner had a point—several, in fact. If Patrick Lassiter called out an inter-pack hunt for Tanner, then the waters of Mal’s investigation into the golem attack—and Tanner’s concerns about his cousin’s actions—would be hopelessly muddied. I can’t be selfish. This isn’t about me.
So he nodded, then kissed Tanner softly. “Okay. I think my phone might have just enough charge left to make the call.”
Tanner’s grin was rueful. “At least yours isn’t full of water. Mine was in my old jeans pocket for months. I dropped it in the creek twice.”
“But let’s hold off for a bit.” Chase squinted at the sun, which had just cleared the hilltops. “It’s still early.”
“Uncle Patrick is an early riser. I’m sure he won’t—”
“I mind. I’d like to give Mal a bit more time to check in with us. If we haven’t heard from him by seven thirty, then we’ll call. Okay?”
Tanner bit his lip, clearly torn, but then he nodded. “That’s fair.”
Over at the lodge, the French doors onto the deck were flung open and a band of diminutive fae—brownies or maybe bauchan—bustled onto the deck. Several more, these the size of the FTA driver, lumbered out after them, rolling massive wooden circles.
“What the . . .” Tanner laughed. “Do you suppose they’re about to play trow Ultimate Frisbee?”
Chase laughed from his belly, seemingly for the first time in weeks. “Imagine Jordan trying to intercept one of those and high-tailing into the woods with it.”
Another huge fae hugging what looked like a tree stump joined the group. One of the brownies pointed, tree-stump fae set his burden down, and two others maneuvered one of the giant wooden discs on top.
“Oh. I get it. Tables. For the wedding.” Chase shook his head. “A vampire marrying a shifter. Unbelievable.”
“Imagine,” Tanner said faintly.
“Although I suppose it’s not any weirder than fae running what amounts to a supe Uber service, or demons sitting behind desks in offices.”
Tanner blinked at him. “Demons?”
Chase took his arm. “That’s right. You’ve been out of circulation for a while. Lots has changed since you went AWOL. For one thing, the gates of Sheol are open. But that can wait. This place has an awesome kitchen, not to mention a pantry that’s stocked better than most grocery stores. Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.”
Tanner didn’t resist. Once inside, Chase pushed him toward the woodstove. “Can you stoke the fire?” After Tanner nodded and busied himself with logs and kindling, Chase headed to the kitchen.
He’d noticed a propane tank behind the cabin, which must run both the stove and the refrigerator. From the lights at the lodge last night, it clearly had electricity, but either they hadn’t bothered to run power to the cabin, or Ted and his husband preferred to keep things rustic. Chase had to admit, he’d liked the gentle glow of candle and lamplight last night. But the lack of wi-fi might pall after a bit.
He filled a kettle and put it on to boil. A French press was upended in the dish drainer, so by the time Tanner finished with the fire and wandered into the kitchen, Chase had coffee ready for him.
Tanner leaned one hip against the counter. “Can I help you with breakfast?”
“Not a chance.” Chase pressed the mug into his hand and handed him a plate with two of the doughnuts from the diner.
Tanner raised both eyebrows and brandished the doughnuts. “Is this how you make me breakfast?”
“Nope. This is your appetizer. You’re getting the full Chase Denney special.” He ticked off his fingers. “Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. A Dutch baby.”
“A what?” Tanner said, laughing as Chase pushed him back into the living room.
“A Dutch baby. It’s like a giant custardy pancake. You make it in a cast-iron skillet, and when I saw Ted’s cast-iron collection, I couldn’t resist.”
“Chase, I can’t possibly eat all that.”
Chase grinned. “I’ll help. Besides, isn’t that what you said at the diner yesterday? You didn’t have any trouble putting all that away.”
Tanner looked like he was about to argue, but then he shrugged. “You’re right. And to tell you the truth, I am a little hungry.” He eyed the doughnuts with intent. “These will probably tide me over for a while.”
“That’s the ticket. Go settle on the sofa in front of that nice, cozy fire. Take a nap. Read something. Meditate. I don’t care. I’ll call you when everything’s ready.”
Tanner’s eyes glinted with mischief. “I could get used to this treatment.” Then the humor faded from his eyes, his expression turning bleak. They both knew there was no point in getting used to any of this, because as soon as Mal gave them the all clear, it would be over.
For good.
Tanner set the doughnut plate on the coffee table and sank onto the sofa, suddenly not hungry anymore. This might be his last meal with Chase. He was tempted to get up and return to the kitchen so they’d have more time together. I don’t want to squander my last chance to be near him, to watch him.
But Tanner knew—as did all the guys at the Doghouse—that when Chase was cooking, he liked his space. Even Jordan had learned to stay out from underfoot after he’d distracted Chase at a critical moment and Chase had added too much baking soda to the cornbread. Hector had been the only one who could handle the bitter stuff.
Tanner sighed and took a sip of coffee, but not even the scalding beverage or the blazing fire could warm him. He leaned back, desultorily scanning the bookcases that bracketed the stove. Ted and his husband had a good selection of paperbacks, even some big textbooks, which would have sent Jordan running into the woods with his tail between his legs. But Tanner had been without reading material or learning opportunities—other than how to raid trash cans without knocking them over—for months.
As tempting as the bookshelves were, his gaze snagged on the Stuff ’n’ Things bags sitting on the end of the sofa, and he remembered the leather-bound book Shirl had given him as they were leaving the store. He set his mug down and scooted over to pull the journal out of the bag.
It wasn’t very big—a little larger than his palm—but it was thick, and obviously old. The leather was supple though, as if it had been carefully treated. Tanner untied the thong that held it closed and gingerly folded the cover back.
The first page was blank, a brown stain at the top that suggested water damage. When Tanner turned the page, though, his breath caught.
Oregon Country. October the fifth. 1833
We left the Stevens pack near Camp Drum, promising to meet again at the Mustering, for surely there is safety in our numbers, the presence of soldiers from either the Camp or Fort Vancouver notwithstanding.
A shiver ran down Tanner’s spine. Oh my gods. A journal from the days before Ore
gon was a state. Before it was even a territory, when the United States and Great Britain were still arguing over borders. A were journal. Tanner flipped through the book quickly, noting that yes, some of the pages were illegible because of water damage, but far more were perfectly fine. The last pages were blank. But the final entry— Remus’s blood! The last entry was in 1959. He compared the handwriting at the beginning of the journal to its last written page. Other than a slight wavering in the later pages, denoting perhaps age or illness, it was obvious that the same were had written it all.
A history. A were history. Not just a were history, but a North American were history, something Tanner had been told didn’t exist. But here it was. Despite the cramped handwriting, despite the splotchy ink, Tanner drew a rocking chair close to the stove, tucked one stockinged foot under his leg, and began to read.
Chase pulled the Dutch baby out of the oven. Ah. Perfect. He hadn’t lost his touch. He set the skillet on a trivet next to the platter of sausage and bacon. “Tanner, how do you want your eggs?”
Tanner didn’t respond, and now that Chase thought about it, he hadn’t heard a peep from Tanner for the entire time he’d been cooking. Granted, Tanner wasn’t as disinclined to respect boundaries as Jordan, but usually he’d at least cruise by to offer a smile or refresh his coffee.
“Tanner?” Still nothing. Chase peeked around the wall separating the kitchen from the living space and spotted Tanner huddled in the rocking chair next to the woodstove, tears running down his face. “Gods, Tanner!” Chase rushed to his side and dropped to his knees. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the withdrawal again?”
Tanner brushed his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I’m fine. Well, physically anyway. Emotionally?” He placed a leather thong across the pages of the book in his lap and closed it gently, caressing its leather binding. “Do you know what this is, Chase?”
Howling on Hold Page 19
