by Susan Laine
Dak stood up, his head cocked as he surveyed Jim. “You could do worse than Crow. Despite his lack of manners to possible love interests, he’s a good man.”
Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim said, “Love interests? Oh my God. You people are insane.” He started to get up. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel the slightest bit woozy. In fact, his head was clear, and there wasn’t even a trace of pain. His ankle felt fine too. As he was about to toss the covers aside, he noticed Dak still staring at him. “Turn around.”
Shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe Jim had just said that, Dak crouched back to stir the fire with a poker. Sparks flew and flames intensified.
Jim got up, snatched his clothes from the chair, and dressed quickly. He didn’t want to waste time shaving, and he doubted there were even any supplies to trim his beard properly. Then again, Dak sported a clean-shaven face. Once Jim had put his shoes on and moved to the cabin door, he said, “Thanks for taking care of me. Again. I promise there won’t be a third time.”
Dak didn’t turn to him. “We’ll see.”
His tone suggested he was prepared for the worst. Jim felt like gnawing the man a new asshole, and not in the good sense, either. Damn him. “Fine, whatever. Hold your breath till I come a-knocking.”
Before he got out, though, he felt Dak’s hand on his arm, stopping him. Surprised, Jim turned to Dak, whose expression was kind of somber. His eyes were darker than before, not more brown, but gloomy, glinting like reflections of the moon on still waters. Jim shivered, suddenly a bit afraid.
Dak’s grip tightened as he growled out, “What are you really looking for here?”
The words popped out of Jim’s mouth before he could stop them, as though he’d been mesmerized to tell the truth. “To find werewolves and write a story about them.”
“I see.” Dak let go, and briefly Jim stumbled, his arm hitting the door.
Why the hell did I say that? He was immediately defensive. “I’m a writer. I’m getting older. Younger journalists are taking all the good adventure stories. I thought an in-depth piece about werewolves in the heartland of America would be my chance to….” His voice faded as Dak’s grimace made him feel like he was about to be snapped in half.
“A nature journalist trotting on the final frontier to spark his dying career. Such lofty ambitions for such noble reasons.” With a sarcastic scowl, Dak loomed over Jim, who was certain he was in imminent danger of bodily harm. “Be on your way, then, little sleuth. Go run with the wild.”
Dak didn’t shove Jim out but looked like he damn near meant to. Jim backed onto the porch as Dak stepped forward, and at least Dak managed not to slam the door in Jim’s face.
“ARE YOU all right, Jim?” Daniel asked after Jim had parked the truck in the driveway of the King house, turned off the ignition, and stepped out to find Daniel there waiting, concerned.
Jim plastered a polite false smile on his face. “Great.” He looked toward the big white house with the front door open—and Crow leaning against the doorjamb, looking ever so relaxed and sexy. “Listen, Mr. King—”
“Daniel, please.”
“Right. Daniel, I think, um, I should stay in town, at the inn. Fewer complications.” His gaze flicked over Crow again.
Daniel followed his gaze, and his stance tensed. “You’ve met Crow?”
Jim snorted. “At Dak’s cabin.” He held back saying the guy had been there practically for no other reason than to rattle Dak and to ensure a near-future booty call with Jim.
To Jim’s surprise, he heard Daniel mutter something unseemly under his breath, and it sounded a lot like profanities. Daniel rubbed a hand across his mouth, still glaring in Crow’s direction, obviously deep in thought. Jim was immediately put on alert.
“What’s going on?” he asked, worried.
Daniel started and faced Jim, apparently shaken out of his grim thoughts. He appeared conflicted about something. “Listen, Jim. Don’t take this personally, but I have to ask. Why are you really here in Conxing?”
Jim didn’t know how much Dak would tell his friends in town. But if he had learned anything in his years in journalism, it was that rumors spread faster than wildfire, and that the truth typically surfaced sooner or later.
“I came to find werewolves. I wanted to do a kind of human interest story on them to revitalize my failing career and—”
Daniel closed the gap between them as he got right into Jim’s personal space. “Does Dak know this?”
Jim nodded slowly. “I told him just before I left.”
But Daniel seemed almost frantic now, threading his fingers through his hair. “Does Crow know?”
Frowning, Jim was utterly baffled, and he was getting annoyed. “No. He was gone by then. Why?”
Daniel wasn’t done. “Why did you come to search for lycans here?”
“I spoke with a couple of people about Wyoming on a website: Spot the Shades.”
Daniel frowned, confused. “What’s that?”
“The site changes its designation periodically. It used to be Spot the Shrouded and Unmask the Unveiled. It’s like a paparazzi site with celebrities, only the site’s by people who’ve noticed the formerly Veiled somewhere, or suspect their presence.”
The frenzied look Daniel had sported shifted to resignation and disappointment. “And you’re part of this… witch hunt?”
Realizing Daniel’s positive image of him had changed drastically, Jim hastened to say, “No, it’s not like that. They’re more fans than crazy stalkers. No one there wants to hurt anyone.”
“And you know this how exactly?” Daniel had gone as stony as Dak, his tone cold.
Clearly Jim had worn out his welcome. “I’ve dealt with these people for a long time. I refuse to believe they’re bad or up to no good.”
Suddenly a new voice joined the conversation. “I’m not sure if I should applaud your innocence or your naiveté.” Crow came to stand close to Jim, his blazed gaze aimed at Jim dead on. Then he grinned and winked at Daniel, who shook his head furiously.
“This is not your territory, Crow,” Daniel said, a definite warning in his tone.
Crow cocked an eyebrow much like Dak had a habit of doing. “Perhaps. But do not make the mistake of forgetting who you’re talking to, cub.”
Initially bewildered, Jim began to wise up. Crow looked a lot younger than Daniel, and yet he had called Daniel virtually a child. That could only mean….
Crow’s dusky eyes landed on Jim as he sniffed the air noticeably. “Smart man.”
Swallowing hard, Jim took a step back. “You…. You’re… wolves…. Werewolves.”
Unsure whether he should run like hell or turn on his recorder to make sure he had his story, Jim felt fear trickling up and down his spine.
“Listen, Jim, there’s a lot you don’t know.” Daniel was talking to Jim like to a child or a frightened animal, soothing him, holding his hands up in a calming manner.
But Jim felt cornered and in danger, and he was backing off instinctively. Guess I’m not getting my story today or ever.
Suddenly he sensed a presence behind him.
Scared, Jim inhaled deeply, planning on shouting for help as loudly as he could.
But as he filled his lungs, Dak’s musky scent sent his senses reeling with pleasure.
“Jim.” As always, Dak remained calm. Jim turned around. Dak stood tall, serene more than threatening. From a few feet away, he made no move to get closer, only held Jim’s gaze with his own. “We need to talk. Will you come inside with us?”
Torn in two, Jim felt his heart skip a beat. His cock jumped in his pants at the sound of Dak’s voice. He had an opportunity to get answers. But more importantly, he’d get to learn more about his reluctant savior.
Jim made his decision.
Chapter 7
“PLEASE, SIT.” Daniel gestured toward the black leather couch in the large, open space that functioned as a living room, open kitchenette, and hallway to the front door and patio out
back. The air was fresh and cool, lacking fragrances of any kind. Only a slight smoky aroma came from the fireplace. The ultramodern interior design still seemed unexpected, but even when he’d arrived the day before, Jim had liked the ambience.
Nodding, Jim did as he was asked and plopped down on his butt. Dak and Crow sat on the couch opposite his, but kept their distance from each other.
“Jim? Would you like something to drink?” Daniel asked from the kitchen.
“Sure, a beer.” Then he shook his head. “No, wait. Um, a whiskey, if you have any.”
Daniel chuckled. “One Glenlivet coming up.”
“No ice.”
Daniel nodded his understanding, headed to the liquor cabinet, poured three fingers of dark-golden liquid, and gave it to Jim, who accepted with murmured thanks. He downed the whole thing in one swallow, his throat burning while the caramel flavor lingered on his tongue. Daniel quickly refilled his glass before sitting down as well.
Jim decided to take the lead. “Look, I’m sorry I hid my purpose for coming here, but I didn’t want to alarm anyone about the possibility of werewolves in the neighborhood. Never know how people might take such news in the heartlands.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Crow sent a charming smile Jim’s way.
Dak growled low under his breath, and Jim was aroused, shivering. All the hairs on his nape stood on end, and his body was flushed with heat, his blood boiling. Why couldn’t he control his reaction to this man? Uncomfortable and blushing, Jim shifted on the couch.
“Could someone please tell me what’s happening here?” he asked, half-pleading.
“Shouldn’t you be recording this?” Dak cut in curtly. “You know, to get ready to out us to the world that would like nothing better than to destroy us?”
Taken aback by the verbal attack, though understanding Dak’s reasons, Jim stammered to explain he had no sinister motives.
But Crow beat him to it. “Don’t be so boorish, Dakotah. I’m sure Jim here has thought this through before coming here. I’m sure he has considered all the possible consequences of his actions. One can hardly blame him for career ambitions, and the world is not quite as dark as you paint it, old friend.”
For some reason, Jim didn’t want Crow on his side. “I don’t want to out anyone against their will. The piece I had in mind was like a human—um, lycan-interest story. To show the world wolves aren’t so bad. I can use pseudonyms and such. No one would—”
“Get hurt?” Dak finished for him, his angry stone mask in place. Jim really wanted to know if the man was even capable of smiling. “Are you really that stup—”
“Dak, please,” Daniel interjected, his tone rising sharply. “There’s no need to resort to name-calling.” He sighed wearily, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sure Jim meant no harm.”
“I didn’t. I don’t.” Jim needed these men—these wolves—to believe him.
Crow laughed heartily, as if nothing could be too grave. “Jim’s intentions aside. That’s not the important thing here, now is it, gentlemen?”
When Dak and Daniel exchanged glum glances, Jim felt trepidations. “What?”
Crow nodded toward Dak. “You’re the one he found first. This is your responsibility. For now.” The man took a leisurely sip of his bottle of water, seemingly without a care.
Worried sick, Jim faced Dak, whose face resembled a storm cloud. “Dak, what does he mean?”
His hazel gaze dropping to the floor, Dak asked, “How much do you know about lycans?”
Reaching into his mental notes, Jim recounted, “Werewolves can live for a very long time, maybe forever. They mostly live and hunt in packs. They’re territorial—”
Crow chuckled. “That’s wolves, honey. What about lycans?”
Ignoring the awful endearment, Jim replied, “Maybe if you gave me a hint….”
“Lycan mating. What do you know about that?” Dak asked.
“Um… every lycan has a mate. Could be human, or lycan, or anything really. They’re supposed to know each other instinctively by pheromones and such. They mate for life.” Jim wasn’t 100 percent sure about what he’d just said, but there were a lot of rumors floating about. Some of that had to be accurate or as close as.
Crow was positively pleased now. “And how does dear old Dak make you feel, Jim?”
For a moment, Jim’s brain was too frozen to comprehend. Then the meaning dawned on him. The instant arousal, the need, the hunger.
He turned to Dak, who still wasn’t looking at him. “I’m your mate?”
When Dak didn’t respond, just gritted his teeth audibly, it fell to Crow to reply with no small amount of amusement. “Well, you’re a mate.”
“Shut up, Crow,” Dak said, this time his growl so animalistic Jim reared back a bit.
Crow sighed, his pitying look aimed at Dak. “Oh, come on, Dakotah. This is ridiculous. You’ve made it clear you don’t want him. It’s selfish of you to not let someone else have him.”
Jim put up his hands to silence the men, his tone almost shrill. “Wait. What?”
Crow leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his warm—and a bit sad—gaze on Jim. “Not all lycans are the same. There are the alphas through omegas, hierarchies within the packs, and to some extent their personalities. But above them—or beyond them, if you will—are the oldest of our kind. The progenitors. The kingmakers, so to speak. Those who make alphas. And only alphas.”
Jim’s head was spinning. “You mean, like, origin of the species kind of thing?”
“Yes, you could say that.” Crow seemed satisfied with Jim’s interpretation, and his eyes heated up, emanating desire. “Now, progenitors are rare. Long ago they divided into specific areas to prevent battles and strife. There are less than half a dozen in the United States alone.”
Jim was shocked to hear that. “Just how old are these progenitors?”
Crow smiled ruefully. “Older than recorded human history.”
“Holy shit!” Jim exclaimed, and then clapped a hand over his mouth.
Crow chuckled. “You said it. Apart from creating only alphas with their so-called love bites, the progenitors are special because they don’t have just one mate. They can have many.”
Confused, Jim shook his head. “You mean like a harem or something?”
Crow nodded. “Polygamy, yes. This situation makes it possible for a progenitor to sire a large number of offspring. It also makes it possible that the mate does not have to be turned into one of us. If they so choose, they can live out their mortal lives, and then die, as regular humans.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Now here’s the tricky part.” Crow glanced at the other men, who said nothing, waiting for him to finish what he had started. “These progenitor mates are not like the mates of alphas or any of the others who can only have one mate. But because there are more available mates for progenitors, their mates are like… hmm, what would be a good word? Ah, yes. They’re like master keys. One key opens many doors. Or in this case, one mate for any and all progenitors.” Jim swallowed hard, feeling an anxiety building unlike ever before. “If one progenitor refuses to take this person as mate, any other progenitor can claim them. Of course, this is all voluntary so….”
Jim couldn’t hear anything else Crow said. His heart thundered in his chest so hard he was deafened by it. All these loose and separate threads had formed a tapestry, and finally Jim was able to see the big picture.
He looked at Dak, who was still staring at the floor. “You’re a progenitor. And I’m your mate. A master key.” Then he added in a choked voice, “And you don’t want me.”
Dak said nothing. His silence confirmed it. Never had Jim felt so lonely and discarded.
“Dakotah and I are both progenitors. Dakotah has lived in solitude, like a monk, for centuries,” Crow said quietly, as if not wishing to intrude, but still offering an explanation. “He no longer seeks mates, one or several. I, however, would love to have you as my mate, Jim.”
Rejection tasted bitter indeed. Jim’s mouth was dry, and he found it hard to breathe. As tempting as Crow’s offer was, Jim couldn’t even contemplate it now. All he saw was Dak’s hunched form, like a statue, facing away from him, shucking Jim away as though he were nothing.
Maybe he wasn’t. Apparently there were plenty more mates to choose from. A whole reserve of them, in fact. Dak could have his harem, with or without Jim.
And without did seem the most likely choice.
“I see.” He wondered if he sounded as alien as he felt, hollowed out somehow. He’d learned as much as he’d ever wanted about werewolves, but this mating business was too confusing. Not once had he seriously considered the possibility that he could be a mate for an Unveiled one. Now that he knew he actually was….
All of a sudden, Dak jumped up and headed for the door with the purposeful stride of a man who wanted to leave.
“Where are you going?” Crow asked, annoyed for some reason.
“I’m going home,” Dak said as he crossed the threshold. “You’ve got things in hand here.”
Then, like in an old-fashioned animation, Dak was gone. Jim almost imagined a cloud of dust where he had stood before running away with his lycan speed. But all that mattered was that the man was long gone.
“That stubborn old mule,” Crow muttered under his breath.
“I thought you preferred having him out of the picture,” Jim said tiredly, feeling numb physically and emotionally.
Crow wasn’t fazed by the accusation as his grin never wavered. “Nope. Being what I am, I like a challenge. The competition between progenitors was violent in the past, but no longer. We’re friends and colleagues these days. Since the Veil lifted, old animosities have been buried out of necessity, new alliances forged, peace made. Dak and I….” He shrugged. “Eternity’s too long a time to hold grudges.”
Jim stared at him with no small amount of disbelief. “If there are so many potential mates for you alpha makers, why do you want me? Don’t you have a mate right now?”
