by Megan Derr
Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Details
Ruffskin
About the Author
Ruffskin
Megan Derr
An ordinary rainy day at the Bremen is interrupted when a strange courier shows up with a package for Peyton Blue, the Bremen's much-loved owner and bartender. When the package turns out to be a piece of Peyton's past and brings that past violently into the present, it is up to Johnnie to resolve a years old problem and put the past where it belongs once and for all.
Ruffskin takes place after Dance in the Dark, and is best read after that story.
Book Details
Ruffskin
By Megan Derr
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Samantha M. Derr
Cover designed by London Burden
This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition March 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Megan Derr
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 9781620041093
The quotes used by Johnnie and Grim were pulled from the following sources:
The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations by Subject Edited by Susan Ratcliffe
ISBN 978-0-19-860750-2
21st Century Dictionary of Quotations Edited by The Princeton Language Institute
ISBN 0-440-21447-5
Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales Barnes & Noble Books edition
ISBN 0-88029-519-8
The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe
ISBN 978-0-40-405109-9
Ruffskin
"What did I tell you?" Johnnie snapped, slapping Grim's hands away. "Do not touch me. If you want to touch, you can go back to your stupid ex. I said do not touch me!" Slapping at Grim's hands again, he turned and stalked across the bar to the pool table, leaving Grim to hang up their wet, muddy coats. Angry, he yanked down his cue stick from the rack.
The balls were already racked, ready, and waiting. The bar, thankfully, was empty. It had been nothing but rain, rain, and more rain the past few days. Locals were braced for the hurricane season not far off, and to judge by the already foul weather, it was going to be an interesting summer.
Johnnie struck, sending balls scattering, wishing each and every one of them was the head of the pretty little witch who had all but plastered himself to Grim while they'd been out shopping. And right in front of him! Like Johnnie did not even exist.
That was easily rectified, to be certain. If the fool was stupid enough to give his name, then he could suffer the consequences of being blacklisted by Desrosiers. See who had the audacity to get overly friendly with what belonged to Johnnie after that.
A hand touched his back, startling him, and Johnnie jerked away. He was immediately pulled back into Grim's arms. "Leave me—mmf—" He bit down hard on Grim's lip, thoroughly annoyed that Grim was not listening to him, the insufferable ass. "What did I say about not touching me?" he asked icily when Grim finally broke the kiss.
Grim rolled his eyes. "I have no idea; I've been ignoring everything that comes out of your pretty little mouth since we finally escaped Weston."
Johnnie made a show of haughty indifference. "Weston, was it?"
"You know very well what his name was," Grim said, looking amused, which was entirely inappropriate for the situation. "I do not doubt within the hour you'll know everything about him and ensure he is not welcome in half the buildings in the city."
Sneering, Johnnie said nothing, only turned away and tried to go back to his game. Half, indeed. He was going to be far more thorough than that. Grim pulled him back once again and held him firmly in place by an arm around his waist, while the other captured his wrists, pinning them to his chest.
"Let me go," Johnnie hissed, twisting his head—and jerking it back around when Grim's proved to be far too close.
Then that hot toddy voice poured over him and made him shiver despite himself. "As much as I love it when you get all lordly and snotty, Highness, jealousy does not become you."
Johnnie said nothing, only shivered again when warm lips trailed along the skin of his throat. What was he supposed to say? The stupid witch had been beautiful and skilled and obviously more than willing to renew his old relationship with Grim. A witch like that was probably far less complicated and troublesome than Johnnie, and he and Grim had looked good together.
He knew Grim would not leave him, but it was hard to convince old fears of that.
"Honestly, Johnnie, you're getting jealous over nothing."
"Trifles light as air/Are to the jealous confirmations strong/As proofs of holy writ," Johnnie replied.
"Shakespeare, is it?" Grim asked, amused. "You are in a snit." Johnnie said nothing, merely jerked his head to the side when Grim tried to kiss his neck. "He cheated on me, you know," Grim said quietly. "He thinks I don't know, but you know how well I can see things that people don't know can be seen."
Johnnie narrowed his eyes at that and decided blacklisting the bastard was not good enough.
"Stop plotting all the princely things you can do to him," Grim said with a chuckle, breath hot against Johnnie's skin. "He's well in the past, and I would much rather focus on my beautiful, if hostile, present."
Relenting a little bit, Johnnie said, "How would you react if you ran across one of my ex's?"
Grim laughed. "You do not have any ex's. If you had, your father would have taken care of them long before I arrived."
"I hate you," Johnnie replied and struggled to get free so he could inflict bodily harm.
"If you think I am letting you go just so you can hit me," Grim said, still laughing, "then you are sorely mistaken, Highness."
"You'll have to let me go event—" The words broke off on a hiss when Grim bit the back of his neck, nuzzled at his throat, and Johnnie decided he would delay the hitting slightly if—
Johnnie nearly fell forward onto the pool table when Grim abruptly let him go as the door slammed open. He scowled at the intruder, who at present was nothing more than a raincoat and what seemed to be buckets of water pouring off him. The man had better have burst in for a very good reason.
"Sorry!" the man said, and pulled off his raincoat, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door and adding to the mess already put there by Johnnie and Grim's coats.
Johnnie picked up his cue stick, setting it aside while he racked the balls to start over.
"Sorry to barge in and make a mess," the man repeated. "Especially as loudly as I did; I'm afraid the wind got the better of me." As if in agreement or protest, the wind rattled at the door, threatening to slam it open again.
"No worries," Grim said. "Can we help you with something?"
The man pulled down the brim of his flat cap, hiding his face. Johnnie realized then that they had yet to get a good look at him. "I'm looking for Peyton Blue?" the man said, phrasing it as a question, as if not certain what Peyton looked like—yet Johnnie had the distinct impression he knew neither of them was Peyton.
"He's in the back," Johnnie said even as Grim darted off to fetch him.
Curiosity snared, Johnnie abandoned the pool table and wandered over to the bar, closer to the man. He was dressed in a drab polo and worn jeans, but Johnnie could not make out the insignia on the polo, covered as it was by the light hoodie the man wore over the polo. He wore no jewelry to speak of, and his hair was hidden. Nothing about him stood out or was remotely memorable. The man was trying very hard to give nothing of himself away.
; Johnnie moved closer, smiling congenially as though he were attending some interminable social function. "So what brings you out in this wretched weather?"
"Uh—business," the man said. "Delivery. Man said the package couldn't wait, had to be delivered today, the sooner the better."
"Package?" Johnnie echoed. But before he could press further, Peyton appeared, wiping his hands on a towel, with Grim just behind him.
The delivery man jumped, and Johnnie eyed him askance. The man then stepped forward and thrust a small brown box into Peyton's hands. "For you," he said, and Johnnie caught the faintest tremble in the man's voice.
Then suddenly the man turned and bolted, door slamming behind him—his raincoat was still hanging beside Johnnie's on the hooks by the door.
"What in the world was that all about?" Peyton asked aloud. He looked at the package, frowning. "Should I open this?"
Johnnie took it and examined the box carefully. "I don't smell or sense anything."
"Nothing seems amiss," Grim added. "Maybe Johnnie was just making him nervous?"
"Be silent or I'll give you good cause to be nervous," Johnnie retorted. Grim only smirked.
Peyton rolled his eyes at them, and then began to peel off the brown paper, revealing a black velvet jeweler's box, but deeper and wider than usual. There were no markings to speak of. So it was a generic box, or the contents were from a store too low-end to bother stamping their boxes.
Pulling off the lid, Peyton drew a sharp breath, and all the color drained from his face—then he threw the box, contents and all, on the bar and bolted out the door, bellowing for the messenger.
Johnnie flicked his fingers at Grim and said haughtily, "Fetch."
"Yes, Highness," Grim replied and vanished.
Alone, Johnnie helped himself to the box. Inside was a handsome watch. He would not have minded seeing it in his collection. But then, a Rolex was always a nice thing to have. He turned it over, examining every minute detail, and somehow was not surprised to see an inscription.
To Peyt, Love Ruff
Who was Ruff?
Johnnie continued to examine the watch, but nothing else caught his eye. Setting it on the bar, he moved around the bar and poured himself a vodka rocks. He'd just taken his second sip when the door opened and Grim and Peyton returned.
"Gone," Peyton said bitterly.
Johnnie looked to Grim, who just shook his head. "He can hide."
Which meant he was hiding even the energies that Grim could see. That was expensive, like in the millions expensive. "Impressive." Such a charm would have to contain demon blood, the only other race that could see energies. He set down his drink and picked up the watch again. "Anyone who can afford to give a Rolex, however, can clearly afford fancy charms to hide himself."
Grim snorted. "Meaning we're looking for one of your ilk."
Johnnie ignored him. "Who gave you a Rolex, Peyton?"
"No one—I mean, he never got the chance," Peyton said, and he sat on a barstool with a sigh. "I admired his, once, and this was years ago mind. After that, he kept teasing and promising about getting me one. I told him not to because we were on opposite ends of the pack. Being friends was one thing; him giving me a gift, never mind an expensive one—that was something else entirely."
"Who was he?"
"The alpha's only child," Peyton replied. "His son, name is Hudson Blue. Younger than me by seven years. He was born premature. All their previous attempts to have children had ended in miscarriages or stillborns, so they were fiercely protective of Hudson. 'Ruff' was my nickname for him. We shouldn't have been friends, but we were." His expression said that they had clearly been more than friends, but the Rolex had already hinted at that.
Johnnie poured a beer and slid it across the bar to Peyton. "You said once that you left the pack because of things that went down and were going to keep going down."
"Yeah," Peyton said bitterly, looking three times his age suddenly. "Murder. The Alpha and his Candidates were abusive, malicious, and downright cruel. After they wound up killing a couple of pups, me and another wolf simply couldn't take it anymore. Kipling was his name. We killed the Alpha and the Candidates. All of them. Then we ran. Kipling went one way; I went another."
"Blue never really got another Alpha, not in all these years," Johnnie commented. "The pack is a mess."
"Yeah," Peyton said. "Like I said, crap is just going to keep happening."
"Whatever happened to Hudson?"
"I don't know," Peyton said quietly. "I've wanted to contact him for years, but didn't dare. If the pack finds me, I'm a dead man, and I don't know what they'd do to him if they thought we were staying in touch. But I've always wished I'd gotten to tell him goodbye—" He broke off and shook his head. "I always hoped he would do okay. His mother was crazy protective of him; I thought that would be enough to protect him from the rest of the pack."
Johnnie said, "He was just here and gave you that watch."
"He must be in danger," Peyton said. "I have to think something is wrong, because otherwise wouldn't he just come see me instead of acting this way? But maybe not. I don't know anymore." He raked a hand through his hair, miserable and confused.
Refilling Peyton's beer, Johnnie left him alone for a bit and headed upstairs, Grim on his heels. Once upstairs he closed the doors and turned to Grim. "How does anyone hide from you?"
Grim snorted. "Even death can only do so much. Hiding from us can be done, and you probably know with what. Hell, it doesn't even always require charms. Why do you think we have to cross so many planes to find the lost souls we seek?"
Johnnie nodded. "So far as charms go, that's high sorcery, and it would require demon blood as a major component. Father had one once. He sold it centuries ago, and then bought the land where we later built the beach house, a couple of properties downtown, and used what was left to redo the lower west wing."
Rolling his eyes, Grim said, "Anyway. The charm camouflages his unique energies. If I get another shot at him, I may be able to see past the camouflage now that I'm aware of what he's doing and am braced for it."
"How often do people hide from you?" Johnnie asked out of curiosity.
"It's pretty damn rare," Grim said. "Which is why your father got an eye-rolling amount of money for his charm. My mother can actually remember all the times it's happened to her, which should tell you something. This is my first time running across it. Usually it's just an irritating game of hide and seek with breadcrumbs.
"The guy must be scared to death, I can tell you that much," Grim continued. "Those things are stifling, according to my mother. It's like slowly suffocating, but with your aura or energies or whatever you want to call it."
"So we need to know what he's running from," Johnnie replied. He pulled out his phone and punched the first speed dial.
"John," Ontoniel greeted on the first ring.
"Father," Johnnie replied. "Have you heard anything regarding Pack Blue, lately?"
"You mean other than the usual," Ontoniel said, not phrasing it as a question. "There was something a few months ago, actually. I'm surprised you don't know."
Johnnie shrugged. "I stay out of Blue in deference to Peyton, and if I made an effort to keep myself apprised of wolf gossip, I would have little time for anything else."
Ontoniel chuckled briefly. "Indeed. But as regards Pack Blue, I did hear that a few months ago their Alpha Female was nearly killed. No one knows who attempted to murder her; there was no clear evidence. To the best of my knowledge, they are still hunting her attacker, and she is still in a coma. Why?"
The Alpha Female, hmm. "I believe her son visited my bar very briefly this afternoon and left a personalized Rolex for Peyton. He's wearing a charm that keeps anyone from finding him, even Grim."
Sighing, Ontoniel said, "I thought we had gone too long without you risking your fool neck. Tell Grim to take special care; I don't trust wolves."
"No," Johnnie retorted. "Thank you for the information, father."
Johnnie looked at Grim. "The Alpha Female was nearly killed three months ago; her murderer failed, but only barely. She's in a coma."
"Matricide?" Grim asked, following Johnnie's line of thought. "So what did your father say?"
"Nothing," Johnnie said, sliding his phone back in the pocket of his deep umber vest. He moved to the mirror to adjust his tie.
"Liar," Grim said in his husky, hot-toddy voice and nibbled at the soft skin of Johnnie's neck, arms warm where they slid around him. His teeth and tongue teased Johnnie's ear, making him shiver.
Johnnie twisted and let Grim press him against the wall. "I do not recall saying that you were no longer in trouble."
"You did," Grim assured him, "and your father knows I will take extra care saving you from yourself."
"Shut up," Johnnie replied and kissed him to prevent a reply.
The sound of shouting, shattering glass, and screams of pain, made them both freeze. Growling, Grim snarled, "Stay here," and bolted off.
Johnnie followed him. Downstairs, the bar was a wreck: glasses, bottles, and even a couple of barstools and one table were broken to little more than shards and splinters. Peyton and another wolf were fighting with the sort of ruthlessness that only wolves could muster, intent upon destroying one another and not caring if they brought down the bar in the process.
He had never seen Peyton as a wolf before. Peyton was handsome, as wolves went. His fur was gray and black, and even in the middle of the fight Johnnie could still occasionally see the bright, rich hue of the trademark Blue eyes.
Peyton was also large, even for a werewolf—significantly larger than the wolf who was trying to kill him, and also a better fighter, though that was a near thing.
The other wolf finally collapsed and did not get up again. Peyton shifted back and collapsed himself, slumping against the bar and leaving a long smear of blood across it. He looked at Johnnie, and then passed out before he could form the words he was obviously trying to say.
Swearing, Johnnie pulled out his phone.
