by Susan Laine
Crow, on the other hand, had given Jim his contact information and advised him to get in touch with him about anything, day or night. Jim had appreciated the offer, but he was pretty sure he was going to be putting that world behind him. Crow had warned that now that Jim had come into direct contact with a progenitor, his pheromones would attract any and all of his kind. Jim had to be careful.
That counsel had led to Jim not leaving his apartment for over a week. He even bought groceries online and had them delivered. He knew he couldn’t live like this for long. It wasn’t just a matter of dwindling finances, but his job expected him to travel. If he didn’t, he’d have nothing to write about. Then he’d get fired. And being forty-four didn’t exactly guarantee him a new job, let alone a better one.
With his thoughts at once a mess and idle, he stared at the Columbia River, now awash with the rain, the surface foaming with droplets. Well, he was too high up to actually see it, but he had a lively imagination.
Only at the moment, that too failed him.
“Son of a bitch.” He cussed one last time, sighed in resignation, and closed the laptop. No point in torturing himself further. He had only two options. He’d write the werewolf story he had promised Albert Woodrow, the chief editor of the National Travel Guide he freelanced for, or he’d shelve the story and find a new one fast. Last week would have been great for that insight.
Sluggishly, he made his way to the kitchen to make some more coffee. It wasn’t even noon yet, and he was on his third cup already. It was an exotic Ethiopian blend, expensive but, oh, so delectable.
Just as he was pouring the steaming liquid into his cup, there was a knock on the door.
Taking a deep breath, Jim really hoped it wasn’t Albert. They weren’t friends, but they were friendly. Albert did have a hands-on approach to running his magazine, and he had a habit of making unscheduled visits to his telecommuting writers who were closing in on deadlines with nothing to show for it.
Already coming up with a list of possible excuses in a pinch, Jim smoothed out the wrinkles in his sweats and T-shirt as he walked to the door. “Yes?”
But outside in the hallway stood a man he had never met or even seen. Jim would have remembered this massive hunk of blond hair, bulging muscles, tight jeans, cowboy boots, denim coat, and a cowboy hat.
Swallowing hard, Jim realized he was staring or salivating or both, and he snapped his mouth shut. Then he smiled politely and asked, “Can I help you?”
The man smiled. Jim could have sworn he felt heat all the way down to his tippy-toes at that sexy gesture. And, oh my God, there were dimples.
“Jim Faulkner?”
“Uh, yes.”
The man extended his hand. “Hello. I’m Denver.” Jim shook his hand. Then he wished he hadn’t when the man added, “I’m the progenitor of the Colorado packs.”
“Oh.” Jim’s smile faded instantly, and he pulled on his hand. Denver released his hold immediately, looking apologetic.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Jim was torn between practicing the politeness he had been raised with and slamming the door shut in the man’s face. “What do you want?”
Denver looked around at the empty hallway. “Might we discuss that inside?” Alarm made Jim panic. Denver quickly added, lowering his voice, “I can’t force you to mate with me—”
“That’s not what I heard,” Jim cut in, his instincts telling him to run.
“Oh, right.” Denver relaxed, smiling. “You mean the seduction bit? Well, yes, I could get you in the sack if I tried. But mating is about more than sex. That I could not make you do. It has to be voluntary.”
Jim bristled despite the cowboy’s amiable approach. “And what number would I have in your harem?”
Denver frowned in confusion, cocking his head. Then the furrow cleared, and he let out a charming chuckle. “Oh, I see. No, I don’t have any other mates. I’m all alone.” Then his attractive smile increased in wattage, making Jim’s knees buckle. “Hopefully not for long, though.”
Jim pictured the man naked all of a sudden. Is he a natural blond? He had to pinch his hand hard to dispel the erotic imagery. “Well, you see, I’m not exactly, um….” As he couldn’t voice his thoughts, he decided it was better not to hash it out in public. “Oh, what the hell. Come in.” He waved Denver to enter his apartment.
“Thank you, Jim.” Denver took off his cowboy hat and knocked his booted feet at the rug to clear away most of the street dirt. “Shall I take my shoes off?”
Jim liked the man’s neatness and nodded. Less cleaning required later, he mused.
“Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot,” Jim asked on his way to the kitchen, leaving Denver to take off his shoes by the door.
“Thank you kindly. I’d love some,” Denver hollered.
Just as Jim was pouring a second cup for his guest, Denver joined him. His curious gaze had an almost childlike quality Jim quite liked.
Why couldn’t Dak be like Denver or Crow, amiable, kind, and willing to love?
Jim suppressed the sigh before it broke out.
Denver came to sit on one of the stools by the island counter, wrapping his huge hands around the cup. “Thank you, Jim. I appreciate this. Your city is awfully wet and cold.”
Jim chuckled, admitting the veracity of his guest’s statement. “It can be. Try living in Seattle. I did for a couple of years. Thought I’d start growing moss between my toes.”
Denver laughed, a buoyant, energetic sound Jim liked a lot. “You should try Colorado. It’s beautiful there. Sunnier and drier, I assure you.” He winked as he said it, and Jim blushed at the familiarity of it all, as though he had known this man for ages instead of a few minutes.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
If Denver was disappointed Jim didn’t take the bait, he didn’t let on. “Crow didn’t tell me much about you. You’re a writer?”
Jim didn’t know what to tackle first. “Uh, yeah, travel books and stuff.”
“That’s great. You get to see the world, and your work foots the bill.” Denver did seem actually interested, Jim noted, and also the man didn’t immediately expect him to give his notice in favor of mating.
Jim needed to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. “I suppose. So, Crow told you where to find me?”
Denver nodded. “Yes. He’s a close friend. And he knows I don’t have a mate.”
“Have you had a mate before?” Jim was curious.
“Yes. Not for a long time, though.” Denver’s smile was rueful, and Jim’s heart hurt for the man despite his decision to keep a physical and emotional distance between them. “He was a soldier. He fought in the Second World War. He died in France.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” The events seemed so long ago that it was hard for Jim to relate to them on a personal level. But when he saw the sorrow reflected in Denver’s blue eyes, he began to understand the emotional toll that kind of continuous loss of loved ones could take on a person. He empathized.
And he started to understand Dak’s reluctance to mate with anyone again.
Denver’s gaze cleared of the reminiscent haze, and he smiled gratefully. “You’re kind, Jim. Thank you.”
Jim blushed again, lowering his gaze to his coffee cup and mumbling a vague thanks. “So, he didn’t want you to bite him and make him immortal?”
Denver shook his head. “No. It was his choice. He didn’t wish to outlive his family and friends. Not even for me. It was his right to make that call. Then… then he didn’t return from the war. He was only twenty-eight years old. I’d only known him for four short years before he went overseas.”
Jim felt a twinge of empathy. “Why would you still seek a new mate when there’s the chance it’ll only lead to more heartbreak?”
Denver gave Jim a dazzling smile. “Love is always worth it,” he said wisely.
Jim chose practicalities over romanticism. “But mating is horm
onal, isn’t it? Not love exactly.”
Denver quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Are we going to have a philosophical debate about the nature and definition of love, Jim?”
“You know what I mean.” Blushing, Jim was surprised he’d said that. He’d just met the man. How could either of them know what the other meant?
Denver bowed his head slightly. “Yes, I know. In short, mating is all in one. Physical, sexual, emotional, spiritual. None can be separated from the others. There is no just-hormonal. We do exude pheromones to attract you, but in all fairness, you do the same.”
“Me?” Jim pointed a hand at his own chest, stunned.
Denver laughed. “Let me guess. Crow gave you the beacon in the darkness analogy, didn’t he?” He shook his head in obvious amusement. “Humans do send out pheromones of their own. Not as strong as lycans, of course. But you’re special.”
“A master key.”
Denver rolled his eyes. “Oh, that analogy too, eh? Honestly, Crow needs new material in the worst way.”
Jim nodded. He liked Denver a lot and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t agree to Crow’s offer?”
“That randy old goat? Heavens, why would you?”
From the way Denver waggled his eyebrows and grinned it was clear he was joking, and Jim laughed at the antics. “He was nice.”
Denver agreed with that. “Choosing him is to choose the lap of luxury, yes.”
“What? You don’t have a palace in Colorado somewhere?” Jim teased.
Full-body laughter was a damn fine thing to see on Denver, Jim thought, as the brightness of the man washed over him. It was heady and delightful. Jim could almost see that a future with this man would never be short of humor, playfulness, and passion. The cowboy probably was a very attentive lover and one of those men who adored public displays of affection.
Denver was so unlike Dak, Jim almost wanted to cry.
“Alas, no,” Denver said in between chuckles. “No palaces, castles, or even manors have I. Just a ranch.”
Heat pooled in the pit of Jim’s stomach, and he swallowed hard. “You’re a real cowboy, are you?”
“I am, yes.” Denver smiled sweetly, and Jim wanted to kiss him. “I raise bulls, mainly, train them for the rodeo and as breeding stock. They’re less skittish around my kind than horses, so it seemed like a wise choice.”
When Denver took a gulp of his coffee, Jim imagined what it would be like to be with this man, a cowboy werewolf. It sounded almost too good to be true. Yet no warning bells rang in Jim’s head as he listened to Denver. The man was honest and sincere. A good man—and all Jim did was think about someone else. That depressed him.
“Are you all right, Jim?” Denver asked suddenly, his tone serious and concerned.
Quickly gaining control of himself again, Jim nodded, hopefully with a convincing smile. “Yes, I’m fine.” He straightened up, inwardly and out. “I know it’s raining and all, but would you like a tour of the town? It’s rained for days, and being cooped up in here is starting to get on my nerves.”
Denver grinned. “You’re an outdoorsy man, like me. Sounds promising.” He got up, stretched to make his joints pop and his muscles bulge—a show for Jim’s benefit, no doubt—and headed back toward the front door, putting his boots and hat back on. “Ready when you are, honey. Giddy up.” He winked shamelessly at Jim, who wasn’t all that accustomed to sexual innuendo from hunky strangers.
Ducking his head to hide his flushed face, Jim dashed to the bedroom to change.
BEING ACCOMPANIED by a gorgeous cowboy around town made for the best day Jim had experienced in ages—for a while, at least.
He’d been right, too, about his suitor’s personality. Denver was extremely attentive, a true gentleman in every respect. He opened doors, he pulled out chairs, he toasted drinks, he made sure Jim had everything he needed for their night on the town.
Jim was growing more infatuated with the man as the day passed. He doubted he could hold on to his self-control if this visit lasted longer than a few days. In fact, he was walking around town half-hard in his pants the whole time.
And he had a sneaky suspicion Denver knew that.
“Though seen through a constant gray haze, I’m beginning to like your town,” Denver said as they walked down the street, fashionable boutiques and expensive coffee shops lining both sides.
Jim snorted. “It’ll definitely grow on you. Like mold.”
Denver laughed. “It’s not so bad. And I’m not made of sugar. I won’t melt.” He leaned in close to whisper this in Jim’s ear.
The warm puff of air made Jim’s dick twitch. “You sure are sugary enough.”
Denver’s voice was a seductive murmur. “You don’t like my sweets?”
Jim had to half scoff, half chuckle at that. “Oh my God, stop it, will you?”
“Anything you wish, beautiful.” Then Denver surreptitiously took Jim’s hand in his, and before Jim could react, the hold was firm.
Burning up inside, Jim liked the way Denver held his hand, warm and strong, how his coat was drenched in the rain but how his sunny smile never receded, and how he wasn’t ashamed or afraid to show his feelings for Jim, be they physical or emotional.
Jim didn’t try to dislodge the gentle grip. As far as overtures went, it was pretty romantic and heartwarming.
No man had ever called him beautiful, either. Rationally, he understood that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, so perhaps he did seem that way to Denver. Jim could remember the way he’d been as a teenager back in high school and college, always more bulky than muscular, with a kind of softness instead of the hardness he had craved. When even regular exercise didn’t seem to give him those things—of course he had a sweet tooth, which was probably culpable too—he had moved on to admire the hardness in other men, in casual lovers.
Walking down the street of his hometown, holding hands with a sexy man, should have kept him elated. Yet he couldn’t stop his thoughts from repeatedly skidding over the icy surface of memories composed of Dak.
“Jim? Earth to Jim.” Denver nudged Jim’s arm playfully. “You with me?”
Embarrassed at two-timing his lovely suitor, even if it was just in his brain, Jim sighed. “I’m sorry. This may sound horrible, but it’s not you, it’s me. My mind is just thousands of miles away, I guess.” He stared at the wet pavement as they walked, feeling gloomy.
“I had a feeling that was the case.”
“Oh?” Jim looked up, surprised.
Denver smiled sorrowfully. “Crow told me he wasn’t the first of my kind you met. I imagine the mystery man is the one on your mind.”
Jim dropped his gaze again, angry at himself. “I’m sorry,” he hissed out through gritted teeth.
“May I ask you who—”
“Dakotah.”
“Oh.” Denver’s tone was immediately sympathetic. Jim surmised that everyone knew of Dak’s reclusive tendencies and his rejection of a mate, and Jim hated the idea of being the butt of a wolf joke. “Every wolf handles loss differently. Dak….”
When Denver’s voice trailed off, Jim asked quietly, “You know him?”
“We who came before everyone else, yes, we all know each other. But we were never a pack. No, I wouldn’t call Dak a friend, as he doesn’t keep many friends, but he’s not an enemy.” Denver’s gaze bore into Jim. “For him to turn you down, I find that extremely offensive and rude. Your kind are rare, far too precious to throw to waste. But… I can relate.”
Jim was full of questions, and Dak wasn’t here to answer them. “Who did he lose?”
Denver shook his head, regretful. “I don’t know. His story is not known to me.”
For a while they walked hand in hand through the drizzle that was slowly abating. The dark rain clouds evaporated sluggishly, leaving behind a red sunset and a misty veil.
“I’m sorry I broke the mood,” Jim said remorsefully once they reentered the lobby of his apartment building.
“You apologize too much, Jim. It’s not necessary. I had a wonderful time.” Denver’s smile was sunny, and the squeeze of his hand was reassuring.
Jim felt like a heel for not wanting this man. Well, as a purely physical exercise maybe they could—No. He couldn’t break Denver’s expectations or his heart. Jim had to stop this before it got any more out of hand. He was figuring out how to phrase his intentions as they walked into the elevator and the doors closed. “Listen, Denver, I—”
But Denver inhaled loudly, sniffing the air, and then he growled, his hackles rising. His sky-blue eyes morphed into hard sapphire wolf eyes.
“What—” Jim tried to back away, but there was not enough room in the elevator.
“Another wolf,” Denver whispered, clearly ready for anything.
When the ping sounded as they reached their floor and the elevator doors opened, Jim was greeted by a sight he had never expected to see.
In a formal suit and tie that were totally wrong for him, Dakotah stood in the hallway, obviously expecting their arrival.
His hazel eyes glanced between Jim and Denver and then took in the fact that they were still holding hands despite the thick tension in the air. A low growl emerged from Dak’s throat, and his eyes turned golden.
Then Dak barked a brutally fierce order. “Let go of him, or I’ll rip your throat out.” His wolf eyes were aimed squarely at Denver.
The way his heart was pounding in his chest, Jim was sure he was having a heart attack.
Chapter 10
BEING IN the middle of two snarling beasts was one thing.
Being in the middle of two snarling beasts who both wanted to fuck him was a totally new experience for Jim.
Not that he had prior knowledge of either.
“Stop it, both of you,” he cut into the growling with a shaky voice. “I live here. You can’t do that here.”
He pushed past both men and headed for his apartment door. He could barely get the key into the lock because his hands were trembling so. Finally he succeeded, opened his door, and stood aside to let Dak and Denver enter his home.
