by Mathew Ortiz
Chest heaving, tears splashed down Oliver’s face. Pain rolled from Duncan in waves. Oliver hadn’t noticed it, as he had had his shields up long before Ezekiel had been torn from his big brother. Now he felt it. Now he understood. He understood like William understood. A bondmate was all and everything to a witch. Once you found it, losing it was a horrifying concept. He fought down terror as the inky blackness touched more of his mind. Grief like he never believed possible crippled him.
How did his brother even get out of bed in the morning? Losing himself, he mentally pulled back and established some distance to keep from being overwhelmed more than he was. One by one, he snapped his shields back into place, and the voices stopped. Shaken, he pulled the plug from the drain and sat as the water drained away. Shivering, he lumbered out of the tub and wrapped a huge white fluffy towel around his waist. He took another and wiped down his upper body. Cold, internally and externally, he hurried into his bedroom and to his closet.
Clothes flew as he dug, looking for something specific. Finding his favorite black Step-in, he slipped his feet through the leg holes and pulled the Step-in tank top over his shoulder. Cooling water dripped down his neck, making him shiver. Grabbing a handful of hair, he used his Aerokinetic power and blew the water out of his hair. In mere seconds, his long blond hair was dry. Tying it back with a soft band into a low pony tail, he looked around his room. Flicking off the lights, he left his room and padded down the darkened hall toward Duncan’s bedroom.
Pausing, Oliver wasn’t sure what to do. He hemmed and hawed as he made up his mind. Opening the door, he waited as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Tiptoeing in, he closed the door behind him. The click of the tumblers sounded like gun shots in the dark quiet. He walked over to the bed. Duncan lay on his side facing the window, his back to Oliver. Oliver reached out and touched Duncan’s shoulder, the jerky, flinching response making his heart hurt. Without a word, Oliver pulled back the covers and got into bed with Duncan. He scooted over and snuggled up to his brother.
When Oliver was a little boy, he had been terrified of the dark. Being in such a big house, all three boys had their own rooms. Not that he wanted his own room. When he tried to get into bed with his parents because he was afraid, he was turned away. His father was dead set against children sleeping with their parents and refused to coddle. William wouldn’t let him sleep with him, calling him a baby. Only Duncan let him sleep with him. Countless nights, Oliver had snuck into Duncan’s room after the lights went out and curled up next to his older brother. As a kid, he felt safe with Duncan. His big brother would never let anything happen to him. Duncan never said no, only smiled and patted the bed. Oliver came when he was afraid, sad, or angry.
Now it was his turn to comfort his brother. Letting out a long breath, he went boneless and sighed.
“Thank you, Ollie,” came Duncan’s whisper of a voice, soaked in tears.
“Snuggle down, D. It’s going to be cold tonight.” He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulder and was alarmed at how boney it was. Duncan was never thick like him and William, but he was always a healthy weight. He was slender like their mother. All he felt now was bones.
“I can start up a fire,” Duncan suggested, his voice muffled by the feather bed pillow.
“Please.”
Duncan didn’t even move, and the fire snapped into life. It blazed merrily, and some of the chill left the room. The crackle of the logs made Oliver drowsy.
“I’m dying, Ollie.” A simple statement.
He stiffened. “No you’re not, D. You’re staying here with us.”
“It hurts so much being here without him.” Sobs rattled Duncan’s body.
Helpless, Oliver hugged Duncan close, letting him cry. There wasn’t much more he could do than that. Duncan cried until he had no more tears, falling asleep in Oliver’s arms. Oliver stayed awake until Duncan dozed off. It was the least he could do for all those night Duncan held onto him until he was able to sleep. As the warm, dark of sleep edged around his consciousness, one last thought played in Oliver’s mind. Please….don‘t die on me… please don’t go...
Chapter 3
“Jaime, why are you going to New York tonight? The Temples are arriving in a few hours, and I had hoped to meet them as a family.” William followed his sister as she hurried down the stairs. Rush was behind him but going much slower.
“I told you I have plans.”
“This is more important than going out and dancing with your friends,” William snapped, and Jaime skidded to a halt. Rush smirked behind his husband, trying to hold in his laughter. Jaime was pushing her brother’s rules to the limit. Having turned eighteen months prior, she was living at home and was set to attend Harvard in the fall to study archeology. She had applied without telling any of her family, only filling them in when she had been accepted. That had been the first major fight she and William had had in years. Jaime had blossomed over the last year and had become a female version of William. Captain Asshole, meet Major Bitch.
Rush chided himself. That wasn’t fair. Jaime wasn’t a bitch at all. She was a loving, sweet girl, only now a woman. She was spreading her wings, and William was fighting her every step of the way.
“No you’re not. You want to have a display of power. All the Supernature knows of our power, even more so with Oliver going out for Ascension. Instead of playing big man on campus, just be William. Nice, kinda bitchy at times, totally in love with Rush, William Blackthorne. We all know they need our help. Hear them out, big brother. The rift mom created has caused us grief long enough. The Cold Creek Pack used to be the best eyes, nose, and ears for the Earth Clans. When Daniel Temple and mom fought, we lost a great ally. Aunt Margaret may be Keeper, but you’re head of Oswald House. Don’t let her bully them.” She said all this as she stopped at the base of the stairs. She took her black throw and flung it over their shoulders. “Besides, you’ll have Duncan and Oliver here beside you…not to mention Rush. Mills!”
The air rent, and a loud pop heralded Millhouse Kenttingham’s arrival. Rush squinted at Mills. The boy looked different. Mills never perked up his radar, but tonight was different. His hair, normally a mess of curls, was cut into a sharp modern style. His clothes seemed…looser. Despite the changes he was still Mills. He blushed as he said hi to him and William. Rush grinned. He knew Mills had a crush on him. That’s why he was unfailingly polite to Mills without seeming like he was hitting on him.
“Hi, guys.” Mills twiddle with his scarf.
“I gather you’re going, too?” William asked as he and Rush met up on the ground floor with Jaime and Mills.
“Yeah!” His infectious smile made Rush grin. “After this we go get Ophelia and we head to Reaper’s Soul.” Rush had heard of the club from Oliver. It was a mixed club of supernaturals and humans. Currently holding the number one spot, it was very difficult to get in, unless you were an Oswald. And Oswalds stuck together, especially Mills and Jaime. Only separated by a few years, they pooled their resources and would be sharing an apartment near Harvard. Mills was attending the school also, studying law. At first the family was against them moving out, but in reality, Cambridge, Massachusetts wasn’t that far from Maquintock Bay. Their proximity pleased all parties.
Rush touched William’s mind. Let them be, blondie. It’s not worth fighting over. William’s irritation flared over their link. Rush soothed it as much as he could, and William calmed, the same way William calmed him down whenever Rush spoke to his father.
“Have a good night,” William said, and both looked at him in surprise.
Jaime smiled, and Mills gave them the thumbs up. As the air bent, Jaime glanced at Rush and said, “Thanks Rush,” blowing him a kiss. His cheeks pinked, realizing she knew he was behind the change in William’s attitude. William spun and growled at him.
“Anything to say for yourself, Harrington?”
Rush chuckled guiltily and reached for his bondmate. Before William could shoot off another snarky comment, Rush kissed
him hungrily. The zing of touching his bondmate went straight to his cock. His head swam, and his craving for William grew. Rush was told that over time the intense feelings of being newly bonded would even out. He hoped not! The sensations he experienced being with William were like nothing he had ever before. The desire, the love, the comfort, and the sense of wholeness were at times overwhelming. All he knew was that William was now the center of his universe, and he didn’t mind. Not one damn bit. He gave William’s mouth one last swipe with his tongue and broke their kiss.
“Mad at me?” Putting on what he hoped was his best hound dog face, he ducked low and looked up at William.
Dazed, William licked his lips and sighed. “Damn you, Rush. No, I’m not mad.”
“Horny?” Rush flickered his tongue at William making he snicker.
“Well, duh! You were a bad boy, Harrington. You need to be punished.” William’s eyes glittered, and Rush sucked in a breath. Yippee! He bounded up the stairs.
“What ya waiting for, blondie? My ass needs a good spanking!” Rush’s laughter filled the entry, and William grinned. Rush’s blood roared in his veins. Peering over his shoulder, he saw William taking the stairs two at a time. Rush stopped and yanked off his shirt, giving his bondmate a look at his tightly muscled chest, covered in dark hair. Rush did a mental fist bump as he saw William’s nostrils flare, and his desire for Rush hit him like a ton of bricks through the bond. Oh yeah, blondie is gonna give it to me good! He took off at a run, reaching the door to their bedroom just as William caught him.
“Good thing we have a few hours to kill,” Rush said as William’s tongue found a pert nipple. Sucking on it hard, William flicked it with his tongue, making Rush gasp. Letting go, William pushed Rush through the now open bedroom door.
“Should be just enough time. Strip and assume the position, Harrington!” William barked out, and Rush hurried to comply. Yep…a nice way to kill a few hours.
***
“Slow the fuck down, butt munch!” Dathan Temple snarled as the Ford F250 hydroplaned on the wet road, skidding to the right. The steady downpour that had greeted them when they had awakened that morning had followed them from Cold Creek all the way down to Maquintock Bay. Donovan only flashed him a wicked grin and took another hairpin turn. The two of them were on their way to meet up with Margaret Oswald, the current Keeper of the Tomes and Mistress of the Earth Clans. For some reason she wanted them to meet her at her deceased sister’s house. Donovan didn’t care. All he hoped for was that Ms. Oswald and his brother could meet in the middle and mend the rift that occurred between Mia Blackthorne, Margaret’s sister, and their father Daniel.
The dull ache of tears welled up in Donovan’s eyes. He couldn’t believe that his father was dead. Over a year ago, a creature attacked the Cold Creek Pack compound. By the time it left, his father Daniel and three of the senior pack members were dead, along with four other civilians who unfortunately had gotten in the way. The worst part was how easily the creature tore through their ranks. The three slain senior members had been his father’s Beta, Hannibal, who was a huge man. The two enforcers who lost their lives within seconds of engaging the creature were Manish Patel, another large brute of a man as strong as ten wolves, and Hiroshima Jackson, a tightly muscled master assassin.
The creature had only laughed and sucked their life-force from them. If Donovan closed his eyes, he could hear the screaming. The creature would have continued its assault if not for Hiro’s mother, Mikio Jackson. She had come screaming in with katana. Chanting, she had swung the blade, icons flaring to life, fiery red, along the blade. The first swing had gone wide, slicing into the creature’s arm. It had jerked back, howling in pain. Mikio had pivoted, and the blade had whistled in the air as it carved a long bloody link along the monster’s gut. It had shrieked and grabbed at its bloody stomach. Donovan recalled it had been trying to hold in its intestines while fighting off four wolves and Mikio Jackson. The smell of copper had floated on the air, along with the scent of flesh beginning to rot. The monster, sensing it was losing, had screamed its rage at them and disappeared in a flash, leaving death in its wake.
The next few days had been a blur for Donovan, and the most violent. Dathan was the next choice as Alpha. Most in the pack agreed on that, save a small contingent. Vincent Haggler, all swagger and stupidity, had challenged Dathan. Born of loss, pain and fury, the coldness in his brother’s eyes had frightened Donovan. Others had seen it, too, and had tried to dissuade the other wolf from challenging Dathan. Vincent had stubbornly refused. The fight had been gory and quick. In less time than it takes to scream, Dathan’s jaws had ripped Vincent’s head from his body with a vicious shake.
That was the end of the challenges. Over the next six months, it was all about Dathan and Donovan settling in as Alpha and Beta of their new pack. First and foremost, his brother needed enforcers. One stepped up immediately, Nakajima Jackson, sister to Hiroshima. Trained by her brother, she had subbed for him on occasion. The other was Lucas Nip, a young wolf but a cunningly ruthless fighter. As per pack protocol there was a trial of strength, all comers welcome to try out for the enforcer positions. Lucas and Nakajima had bested all contenders by the end of the day, and Cold Creek had two new enforcers. It was ground breaking that Cold Creek had one of the few female enforcers, and it had become the talk of the shifter communities. Dathan backed his choices. His enforcers were the best in his opinion.
Both of which were not pleased to have their Alpha and Beta traveling unescorted. Dathan overruled them, not wanting to have a show of force. Dathan had told Donovan that while he didn’t trust witches, the pack needed their help. Donovan didn’t share his brother’s distaste for witches or have is solidphobia. Some shifters, his brother included, distrusted anyone who could not change their shape. Donovan’s mother Meredith didn’t teach them to be solidphobes. Their father did. He couldn’t help but wonder if all the problems his father had with Mia Blackthorne stemmed from his bigotry.
“Damn, when did you become such a pussy?”
Dathan’s fist sailed out and punched him in the arm. “Fuck off and slow down. Now!”
“Killjoy.” He did as he was told, and Dathan relaxed next to him. “Hey, I meant to ask you. Did you nail Brittany?”
Dathan gave him a wolfish grin. “Yup, last night.”
“Yeah, thought so. You smell like cooch.” Donovan snickered, waving his hand under his nose.
“You’re really gonna give me shit? You reek of cock and cum yourself!” Dathan laughed.
“That new secretary of yours likes the cock. I banged him this morning.”
“Fuck, Donovan, stay away from my staff. You fuck them and then don’t call them. They get pissed and leave.”
“Never was a problem before,” Donovan added, and they both chuckled. When young werewolves hit puberty, their hormones when into overdrive, and they spent the next few years trying to stick their dick into anything that would stand still. In the beginning, Donovan had both female and male bedmates, but he discovered that he truly preferred men. His brother Dathan was straight, but not narrow. He would laugh and say that at least he and Donovan weren’t hunting in the same game! The Temple brothers gained a quick reputation for being man whores, a rep they both embraced and enjoyed. For years they catted around all they wanted to, much to their mother’s consternation. Neither one of them had found the one yet, either in the pack or among the other packs.
That came crashing to a halt when Dathan became Alpha and chose Donovan as his Beta. All the pack watched in anticipation as to who Dathan would choose to mate with. Mothers fell over themselves parading their daughters under Dathan’s nose, hoping for ‘the scent,’ that moment when a wolf smells the sweet, enticing aroma of his one true mate. The scent draws him uncontrollably, and the wolf within howls madly until he or she mates and marks the person as theirs alone. Once mated and marked, the two are bonded for life. Donovan was a different story. Being a gay wolf shifter meant his mating would not produce cubs
, but it could bind a family to the Alpha’s family, a powerful position indeed. The pack mothers were always trying to fix up their gay or bi sons with him in hopes of forging an alliance.
So far, there was no scent for either of the Temple brothers, and that didn’t bother either of them one bit. Donovan was happy to bed any cutie who wanted him. He did know that Dathan was beginning to worry. His brother needed heirs, cubs, to carry on the family name and have one to be the next Alpha.
“Hey. Please do me a solid and rein in your dick while we’re at the Oswalds.” Dathan blurted out suddenly.
Caught off guard, Donovan balked. “I know, I know. We already talked about this. I’ll be good.” Frowning, he shot off a look at Dathan. “Are you that worried?”
Dathan sighed and slumped in his seat. “Margaret Oswald is a nuclear level ball buster. Dad couldn’t stand her or her sister. I’m not fond of the high handed attitude of the Oswalds, but we need their help.”
“We’ll be there in a few more hours. You know what you’re going to say?”
“Not a fucking clue. All I have is mom saying be nice and hold your tongue and don’t be a dumbass.”
Donovan smirked. “Sound advice. Mom’s always spot on. Didn’t she and dad disagree about how he acted with Mia Blackthorne? She gave him a rash of shit over that.”
“I wonder if it was because Mia Blackthorne was a solid or that she was a woman. Dad was a misogynist, and that’s being nice.”
“He was a chauvinist bastard.”
Dathan scowled at Donovan. “Shut it. He was our dad.”
Lips thinning, Donovan snapped back. “He was your dad. He couldn’t stand me. I’ve no love lost for him.”
Dathan opened his mouth, thought twice, and closed it. They sat in silence. Dathan spoke first. “You’re right. He was a bastard. He might have ignored you, but he rode me all the time. Nothing I did was good enough for the old fucker.” Dathan balled his fists, and his knuckles blanched white. “I’m afraid of becoming just like him.”
