by Fel Fern
“If you think I’m a threat, you would have killed me already.”
Deacon smiled. “If Santino heard you come to that conclusion, he’d tell me eliminating you would be best for the pack.”
No, in truth Deacon wasn’t worried Daryl would betray him, because during the run he came to one conclusion. Daryl wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The Esper would be staying right within his sights, and only a foolish pack member would poach what rightfully belonged to the Alpha.
Daryl swallowed. “How about you? What do you think?”
“I like having you around too much. It’s sweet you made us breakfast.” The compliment eased the Esper, if only a little.
Daryl shuffled his feet. “Well, I didn’t want you to throw me out immediately.”
“Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen. You and I are far from done, Daryl.”
Chapter Six
Daryl’s heart raced at those words. “What do you mean by that?”
Deacon grabbed an extra plate and started piling pancakes on them. The Alpha grabbed a bottle of maple syrup from a nearby cabinet, which strangely contained plenty more bottles, making him wonder if Deacon had a sweet tooth. That would have been a cute image. Daryl didn’t have to ruin morning breakfast by asking about the future. However, Daryl was the kind of guy who needed to know where this—whatever this was between Deacon and him—was going.
Last night proved the chemistry between them had been off the charts, but was casual sex enough for him?
What did it mean that Deacon sent Sabine to watch over him last night? He didn’t think the Alpha did that to all of his lovers. Asking Sabine proved useless, since she remained in wolf form and only watched him from her position on the rug, emotions air-tight as always.
“Please don’t avoid the question,” Daryl said. “Last night, you told me the rules—”
“Rules change.”
Deacon took a forkful of pancakes and ate them, thoughtful look on his face. “Fuck, these are good. Are there bacon bits in here?”
He nodded. “I know werewolves like meat, bacon especially. That’s all Forrest and Dave have in their fridge.”
Shit. Daryl knew the Alpha wasn’t particularly supportive of his brother’s relationship with one of his enforcers. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up that.
“I hate this,” he finally said.
Deacon set his finished plate down, gaze narrowed.
He explained before the Alpha could misinterpret his meaning. “I don’t know how to act around you. What am I to you, Deacon? Someone good for a few rounds of sex, then nothing? I need to know where we stand.”
Deacon growled at him. Great. Daryl had a feeling the Alpha wasn’t a man used to be questioned so much.
“I don’t know,” Deacon finally said, looking angry for some reason.
Daryl crossed his arms, made a decision, then began walking to where he left his clothes in a pile the night before. Deacon’s snarl made all the hairs on his back stand up.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Deacon demanded, a growl to his voice.
Instincts told him a dangerous predator was right at his back, not the wisest move. Anger rolled off Deacon, as well as annoyance and confusion. He clearly pissed off the Alpha, something he had a feeling other werewolves would want to avoid, but Daryl needed to prove a point. Besides, Deacon wouldn’t hurt him. When Deacon grabbed his wrist, his pulse spiked.
He swallowed, meeting Deacon’s amber-flecked black gaze, well aware he shouldn’t be toying with the Alpha like this. No, that wasn’t the right word. Daryl didn’t like playing games, especially when he risked his heart for a man he hadn’t been too sure was still capable of love.
Daryl sucked in a breath when Deacon loosened his grip on his arm, only to thumb his pulse. Why that gesture felt erotic, he didn’t know. The bite mark on his neck ached, reminded him if Deacon bit him a little harder, Deacon would have truly claimed him as his mate.
Was he ready for that?
Daryl hadn’t been too sure. His insane attraction to Deacon aside, being an Alpha’s mate had plenty of responsibilities. Plus, he wanted to know Deacon a little better, to spend time with Deacon and get to know the man underneath the skin of the Alpha.
“I asked you a question, little Esper,” Deacon said in a deadly tone.
He wrenched his grip away from the Alpha, remembering those talented, huge, and callused hands all over his body last night. Deacon fucked him like he owned Daryl. The thought made his heart race. Last night, he’d been so drunk with pleasure, with the knowledge this big, lethal male wanted him that he didn’t care about putting his heart on the line.
Daryl hadn’t been too sure anymore.
“Talk to me when you’ve made a decision,” he said, beginning to put on his jeans.
Daryl hesitated about taking off Deacon’s shirt, but it felt so comfy and Deacon’s scent clung to it, so he decided to keep it as a souvenir. Deacon didn’t touch him again, merely stalked over to the front door. Anger moved like a living force inside Deacon, made it hard to breathe in the small space.
He gripped the nearest furniture, a small table next to the bed, because he never felt so much rage from anyone before. Deacon discarded his jeans, shifted, and a monstrous pure black wolf exploded from his skin. The Alpha let out a furious roar. Daryl didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that Deacon needed to get away from him, because the animal within him might go berserk.
Outside the windows, two shapes appeared between the trees. Only a fool could call those two the Alpha’s bodyguards, because Deacon was the last person who needed protection. No, those two probably helped balance out all the fury contained in the Alpha.
Daryl shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. Last night, he’d glimpsed the hint of darkness in Deacon. He knew a little about the pack’s history to know that the mantle of leadership had been thrust upon Deacon when he’d been very young. The loss of his former packmates and parents probably shaped Deacon into the man and wolf he was today.
It wouldn’t have been easy, not a burden any normal person, shifter, or other, could easily bear. Daryl wished he knew more details, wanted to understand why Deacon was the way he was now. Maybe knowing could help him understand why Deacon was reluctant to pursue the prospect of a relationship with him.
The three werewolves must have come to an agreement. This time, Santino’s dark brown wolf stayed behind and Deacon disappeared into the trees, a slender white wolf tailing him from a respectful distance. Daryl bit his lip, wishing it was Sabine who stayed behind instead, because she seemed more agreeable than her brother.
Santino had been one of the enforcers who adamantly refused to let Dave stay in Devil Hills. Daryl couldn’t hide in here forever, though. He looked at the kitchen and realized he couldn’t leave those plates unwashed or the food left behind. A thump from somewhere made him jump.
Seeing a pair of small white ears twitch from the couch, he relaxed.
“All right, you can come out now, I know you’re there,” he said.
Sylvia jumped from the couch, blue eyes bright as she padded to him and let out an adorable little snarl. Daryl was pretty sure she had the same fur color as her mother, but she was more a dirty-white now, grayish almost.
“Slipped Dave and Forrest?” he asked, bending down to brush away the leaves and twigs on her.
His grim mood lifted. Sylvia always seemed to have a way of running wild on those supposed to babysit her. The pup answered him by padding to the kitchen counter on her stubby legs and pawing at the counter. He considered her as she looked back at him, probably figuring out she couldn’t reach the stack of pancakes on her own.
“You know, your cuteness won’t work on me, unlike Dave,” he said in a most stern voice, trying his best not to laugh. Dave adored the wolf pup and he could see why. “If you want pancakes, you should turn back into human form and eat with a proper fork. Deacon wouldn’t like it if you messed his kitchen up, would he
?”
She whined at him, circled around him, and lolled her tongue. He waited. That was the trick with children, even the wolf pups in the pack compound, which was one of his favorite places to visit. Finally, she changed back to a girl, dirt streaked and white-gold hair all tangled. She hesitated, then walked over to one of the drawers near Deacon’s bed to pull out a pink dress.
Daryl hid a smile. Since Deacon had some of her clothes here, he suspected she was a regular visitor.
“Mama said to act proper around guests,” she muttered, looking unhappy.
“Good girl,” he said with approval.
“Pancakes. Now?” she asked him, tugging at his shirt.
“Sure, sweetheart.” He lifted her by the waist and sat her on one of the stools. Daryl prepared her a plate.
She scrunched her nose. “More. Please?”
Daryl added two more to her initial tree, at her shake of her head, he added two more, then paused. Would Sabine allow her that many? Werewolf pups ate a lot, though, and shifters burned up calories much faster than the average human or Esper.
“Maple!” Sylvia began reaching for the syrup, which he was about to do, until a cold voice interrupted them.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My sister once spent an entire morning cleaning off the syrup she smeared all over Deacon’s kitchen and living room.”
Daryl froze at Santino, who stood by the doorway, dressed only in a faded pair of jeans. Like Sabine, her brother was undeniably a looker. Like most of the dominant wolves in the pack, Santino was padded with muscle, his skin a rich caramel color occasionally marred with old white scars.
It was Santino’s face that lured most people. Dark wavy hair framed an exotic face with silver eyes. Plenty of his new werewolf friends constantly mooned over the Devil, but only those with brass balls dared to dance with him.
He prevented himself from letting out a huff. Daryl didn’t get the allure. He’d preferred his rough black-eyed Alpha any other day as opposed to Santino, who’d probably bite off his head. Too bad that frustrating Alpha was currently mad at him.
“Did I give her too many pancakes?” he asked, deciding to pour the syrup for her.
She gave him that cute little scowl that was, not surprisingly, similar to the one Santino currently wore on his face. Like niece, like uncle, he supposed. Santino joined them, reaching out to straighten Sylvia’s tangled hair.
“Uncle ‘Tino, can’t eat,” Sylvia complained, then gave him a toothy grin, mischievous look on her face. “Syrup for Sylvia?”
“No, I think that’s enough sugar for the day,” Santino said.
It was the first time Daryl witnessed the usually cold enforcer warm up to anyone but Deacon or Sabine. Seeing Santino interact with Sylvia made him reassess his initial impression of Santino, until Santino turned those unfriendly silver eyes at him.
“I don’t like you,” Santino told him plainly.
“Wow. You certainly cut to the chase, don’t you?” he warily asked.
“Sylvia, stay here. Daryl and I will have a little chat outside,” Santino said in a tone which said the enforcer didn’t expect any arguments.
“Fine with me.”
Daryl had anticipated having a conversation like this anyway, given how protective Santino and his sister were toward the Alpha. He could do this. Daryl wouldn’t run even though Santino frightened him a little. Well, maybe more than a little.
“If you run out without telling either of us, I’ll know and I’ll find you, okay?” Santino told the little girl, who nodded. Before they headed out, Santino grabbed the syrup bottle.
They exited Deacon’s cabin and he took in a deep breath before facing Santino. Without warning, Santino shoved him against the cabin wall, preventing escape.
He expected violence and never in his wildest imagination expected the words that came next from Santino.
“Why don’t you give up on the Alpha and play with me instead, little Esper?”
Chapter Seven
“What?” Daryl managed to ask, back hitting the wooden wall as Santino edged close.
“Think about it. I can teach you plenty of things in the bedroom Deacon can’t. If you beg me nicely, I’ll show you how much of a generous lover I can be,” Santino said against his ear, breath warm.
Daryl recovered from his initial shock and pushed Santino away. Well, that had been the idea. All he managed was put his hand on Santino’s chest. He tried to read Santino, expecting a mental blockade, but some emotion spilled enough to let him know underneath all of Santino’s games, the enforcer cared about Deacon and his family. It also interested him to realize that Santino was more emotional than his sister.
“I am not a threat to Deacon or those you love, and nice try, buddy. I’m sure you can work that charm on most pack members, but I’m only interested in Deacon,” he said.
Daryl must have said the right words, because Santino growled in his face but took a step back.
“I don’t like it that you’re able to read emotions, especially Deacon’s. I can’t tell whether you’re good or bad for him, but you’ve certainly convinced Deacon and my sister you’re harmless.”
“I’m glad,” he finally said.
“What?” Santino gave him a suspicious look.
“That Deacon has you, Sabine, and Sylvia in his life. He’s in charge of the pack, of this community, but to rule, he’s isolated himself. You guys help keep him balanced.”
Santino studied him for a little longer then swore. “You’re dangerous, Daryl Rush. Most people would run, wouldn’t stick around when they realize they can’t handle Deacon. You seem stubbornly intent on staying. I can see why Deacon easily fell for you.”
He looked away. “I don’t know about that. When I asked him this morning about where this was going, he didn’t have an answer.”
To his surprise, Santino answered him. “Deacon needs time. You can’t begin to understand what he’s gone through. Few people do.”
“I want to understand,” he said, knowing he sounded desperate but he didn’t care. To get to the bottom of Deacon’s heart, he needed to win over Santino and his sister, convince them he was the right one for their Alpha, he knew that.
“Maybe,” Santino ventured, “my sister and I will help you.”
Daryl couldn’t help but smile. Santino was merely misunderstood, that was all. He was actually a pretty decent guy.
The enforcer scowled. “What’s that idiotic grin for?” Santino demanded.
“I—Sylvia!” he blurted, sensing an excited bundle of energy nearby.
A dirty-white werewolf pup streaked past them, carrying a stack of pancakes in her mouth. Santino swore and he understood. Deacon probably tasked Santino with looking after him. Oh, he planned on having a chat with Deacon about being overprotective someday.
“How about we look for her together?” he asked.
“Fine.” Santino began walking to the woods, seemingly not bothered he had no shoes on. Daryl blinked, spotting something on the back of the enforcer’s neck, some kind of scar tissue. He ran up to Santino, trying to keep up with the enforcer’s strides. Daryl reached out, about to touch the curious area on Santino’s neck, but Santino caught his hand, warning look in his eyes.
“Don’t,” Santino said, looking once more the lethal predator he was.
As they reached the woods, they spotted the Beta, much to his surprise. Lance looked like he was dressed for a meeting, in a suit and tie, holding three werewolf pups in his arms. Sylvia was one of them, the other two fought over what looked like one of his missing pancakes.
“Look at you two, gotten close?” Lance said with a smile Daryl didn’t quite trust.
He didn’t know what to make of the Beta. Something about Lance unsettled him, but he didn’t think Lance necessarily meant Deacon or the pack any harm. Did Lance have his own private agenda?
He wondered why Deacon didn’t make Santino Beta, because rumor had it Lance didn’t originally belong to the Devil Hills p
ack. Some pack members and even Forrest said if Santino wanted, the enforcer could challenge Lance for the position and win.
“None of your business,” Santino snapped.
Daryl sensed tension rise between the two men and long buried emotions rising up from Santino’s end. Resentment and dislike, he realized, but the Beta remained cool, level-headed.
“Thank you for catching Sylvia,” he said.
“You know, Sabine should—” Lance began.
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that,” Santino said in an icy voice.
Lance shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe she should teach Sylvia a little more discipline.”
Sylvia wiggled out of Lance’s arm while the two dominant werewolves continued some kind of glaring contest he didn’t want to be a part of. Yesterday, Daryl had just been practically nobody. Now, Santino didn’t want to leave his side because of the Alpha’s orders, and he was witnessing something he didn’t think he should, an argument between two members of Deacon’s inner circle.
Both Santino and Lance began to argue. Sweat dripped down his back when Santino said, “Shut your mouth or I’ll cut your balls off.”
“Is that the way you should talk to the second-highest ranking member of the pack?” Lance returned.
When nothing scary or dangerous happened the next few minutes, just more arguing, he relaxed a fraction of an inch. Was this a normal occurrence?
These two never argued in the presence of the pack, and he wondered if they did that to appear like a united front to the other packmates.
“Guys? There are kids here,” he said. Lance still had the two pups in one arm, both pups had settled their differences by sharing. Daryl wasn’t sure whether to point out that they were showing a bad example to the young.
Before Sylvia slipped away, he blocked her path. She shifted and he put a hand on her shoulders, shaking his head. She looked up at him, pointed to the left direction of the woods.
“People,” she told him. “Lost.”
