by M. D. Grimm
He was pacing and muttering to himself, his eyes glued to the stapled stack of papers in his hands. Whatever he was reading obviously had his complete attention because he didn’t notice Genii bearing down on him.
She snatched the papers out of his hands, and he gasped in shock. Poe snickered.
“Genii, give those back!” He made a grab for them, but she kept them out of reach.
“You’re going with us, Oenghus, and that’s that. Turn your brain off for a freaking hour.”
Oenghus stopped chasing her around the room and huffed an irritated breath. It surprised Nordik to see he wasn’t the least bit angry, only a little annoyed. Then Oenghus turned and noticed them standing in the doorway. He beamed when he saw Poe.
“Hey, Oenghus,” Poe said. “Sorry I haven’t said so much as boo to you before now.”
“Hi, Poe!” Oenghus sprinted forward and gave Poe a full-body hug. Nordik couldn’t stop the growl of possession from sounding in his chest.
Oenghus sprang back just as quickly and, blushing slightly with obvious chagrin, held out his hand to Nordik.
“Poe is a dear friend, and I’ve missed him dreadfully. It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you.”
Satisfied his warning had been received, he shook Oenghus’s hand with ease, though he knew Poe was rolling his eyes behind his back.
“You would be the singer?” Nordik asked. “The one who could be on something called American Idol?”
Oenghus’s blush deepened as Genii laughed. “I’m not that good. They exaggerate. I can keep a tune, of course, but—”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s being modest.” Genii slung an arm around Oenghus’s neck before he could continue his protest and steered him down the hallway.
As they left the building and walked down the busy street, Nordik noticed Poe slowing down slightly, putting distance between them and Genii and Oenghus. Poe tilted his head back to look at him.
“I don’t like you growling at my friends.”
Nordik eyed him. “It’s easier for everyone if they know my claim from the start.”
Poe narrowed his eyes. “They’d know your claim even without the idiotic dominance display. Full disclosure, Nordik: I’ve never had a sexual relationship with an agent. Oenghus is a sweet guy who always lets everyone know how much he cares. You had no cause to scare him.”
Nordik growled slightly in his chest. Poe poked him in the ribs.
“We’re not in the forest anymore. You’re among humans now. Act like it, bear man.”
Nordik grabbed the hand that poked him, swung Poe around, and pushed him against a building. Before Poe could protest, Nordik kissed him, claiming, invading his mouth. He wouldn’t change for anyone. He couldn’t change. He was the master bear shifter, and Poe was his mate for eternity.
By the time he pulled back, they were both gasping for air, and Nordik felt the unmistakable outline of Poe’s erection against his leg. He looked deeply into those beloved blue eyes and knew he’d do anything and everything to make sure Poe came home at the end of the day.
“Idiot,” Poe said. But then he pressed his head against Nordik’s chest.
“You two hotties coming?” Genii called to them from down the street. “Or you wanna give everyone a show?”
Poe laughed, and Nordik found himself chuckling. Poe lifted his head when Nordik stepped back. He held out his hand to Poe, who shook his head even as he linked their fingers.
“What am I going to do with you?”
Nordik smiled. “Once we return, hopefully it’s something that involves you naked.”
Poe laughed again.
IT WASN’T as horrible as he thought it would be, and Oenghus was, in fact, a remarkable singer. But Nordik couldn’t relax. This was the first time they’d been exposed, in public, since watching Arcas’s video message. He smelled a few shifters in the bar, and he could see they noticed him. But they kept their distance, and he left them alone. He looked closely at everyone in the crowd, wondering if any of them was a knight. Poe would often squeeze his leg under the table as if to reassure him. But Nordik noticed even Poe and Genii were hyperaware. Nordik wouldn’t be surprised if, as Oenghus sang in front of the room, he was observing the crowd and assessing possible threats.
The crowd loved Oenghus so much that they insisted he sing two songs in a row. But as he ended the second one, he waved away their demands for an encore. Blushing with praise and excitement, Oenghus rejoined them, and Genii passed him a beer.
“You should take a turn, Poe.”
“Maybe.”
Nordik raised an eyebrow. “You sing?”
Poe snorted, and Genii coughed slightly.
“I’m not as good as ol’ Oenghus, but I hold my own.”
“Now who’s being modest?” Oenghus said, lightly teasing. “He has a deeper and growlier voice than my own. Better suited for rock or metal than pop.”
Poe raised his bottle in agreement before taking a large swig.
“I think I’d like to hear that,” Nordik said. He was sure the look on his face conveyed his true feelings. Poe met his gaze and his own heated with desire. If their two companions noticed the exchange, they pretended they didn’t.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nordik noticed a young man, a nonshifter, walking toward their table. He took a deep breath and smelled blatant arousal. He didn’t even bother to sigh. He’d already been flirted with twice since entering the bar forty minutes ago and been shown evidence of Poe’s own possessive nature. Not that he minded Poe’s assertion of claim. It only made sense. But it wasn’t necessary. He had no desire for anyone else.
As the young man—not unattractive but nowhere near Poe’s appeal—reached their table, both Genii and Oenghus scooted around slightly, as if ready to watch the show. One thing Nordik learned being cooped up with nothing but agents for two days was that they were certainly a cast of characters.
“Hi there, I’m Lance,” the man said, his eyes only for Nordik. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?”
“I have one, but thank you.” He didn’t see a reason not to be polite. It took a lot of courage to approach a stranger and show interest.
Poe had other ideas. “Get lost, junior. He’s taken.”
Lance straightened himself, his demeanor turning haughty and superior. He seemed to look down his nose at Poe and ignored Genii and Oenghus. Nordik decided right then he really didn’t like this man at all.
“Excuse me, I wasn’t talking to you at all,” Lance said. “And it’s not like you own him. He can talk to whom he chooses.”
“Oh, look at Mister Educated using ‘whom’ in a karaoke bar,” Poe said. Lance flushed as Genii and Oenghus chuckled. “And how do you know I don’t own him?”
Amused and aroused, Nordik said nothing as Poe stood up and then plopped himself on Nordik’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Nordik’s neck and sent Lance his own haughty expression.
“He’s my love slave. Go get your own.”
Lance didn’t seem to have a response to that, so he sharply turned around and left.
“Trust-fund baby. Did you see his shoes? Fucking Gucci. And that was a hundred-dollar haircut, or I’m a woman.”
Nordik shook his head at Poe, tightening his arms around Poe’s muscled body.
“You were rude.”
“No more rude than you when I got hit on not ten minutes ago.”
“You guys are great,” Genii said with a laugh, finishing her drink. “Come on, Oenghus. Time for a duet.”
“You must be drunk,” Oenghus said, wonder in his tone. “You never volunteer to sing.”
“I’m in a mood, gorgeous.” She grabbed Oenghus’s hand and hauled him up. “Let’s go.”
With no choice, Oenghus let himself be pulled along to the stage where another singer—rather mediocre, to say the least—was finishing up. Nordik shook his head. He looked back at Poe and realized their faces were mere inches from each other. It took all Nordik’s strength not to kiss Po
e. But he couldn’t control his other bodily functions. Poe glanced at him sharply and raised an eyebrow.
“I contemplated just staying on your lap all night to keep poachers away from you,” Poe said softly. “But maybe I should reconsider.”
Nordik tightened his hold further. “No. You’re staying.”
Poe smirked, then squirmed a little—much to Nordik’s pleasure—as if trying to find a comfortable spot. Once he did, he relaxed and watched his two friends sing. Nordik didn’t recognize the song, but he enjoyed their voices. They weren’t half bad together.
“You have two tribes.”
Poe tilted back his head. “What?”
“The Agency is one tribe. But your kin are another. You have two.”
Poe smiled as he looked back at Genii and Oenghus. “Yeah. I guess I do. Go me.”
Nordik smiled and laid his chin on Poe’s head. He would never have expected Poe to be comfortable with showing such affection in public, but he was glad of it. It meant Poe was comfortable with their relationship. Accepting of it.
Nordik’s mind wandered as Oenghus and Genii easily bounce off each other during the song, confidence and trust in their stride. Agents were extraordinary people. They fought a war that some would argue they had no part in. What did they owe shifters? Merlin had founded the Agency centuries ago. Nordik knew the why: to protect shape-shifters. But he didn’t know how, or what the agents themselves got out of the deal. Why did so many join? It was only recently knowledge of Arcas’s plan of world destruction was discovered. But before that, what personal stake did agents have in the war?
Nordik looked at Poe, who clapped and hooted when the song ended and Oenghus and Genii took their bows.
They weren’t the only agent and shifter to have mated. Agent Pan had mated with a hawk shifter not even a month earlier. Then there was the Agency’s aide—Josh?—who had mated with a wolf shifter. There was something there. Something that connected them. Something that bonded them. Nordik didn’t believe in coincidences. Merlin had to know something of the connection between faes, shifters, and humans. He’d lived when the tribes were distinct from each other. Perhaps what Merlin knew motivated him to form the Agency. Everyone would be needed for the final confrontation.
Nordik jerked out of his dark thoughts when a commotion reached his ears. He looked up to see a belligerent drunk trying to attack Oenghus. He stiffened and was about to rise when Poe gripped his hand.
“Easy there. They got this.”
The amusement in Poe’s tone eased some of Nordik’s tension. Genii shoved the drunk aside and put herself between him and Oenghus. The man continued to shout homophobic slurs that sent Nordik’s blood boiling. But Oenghus seemed to keep his cool admirably, and even as Genii shoved the man away, putting greater distance between them, Oenghus spoke calming and rational words.
“He’s not angry,” Nordik said, surprised.
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
“You didn’t believe me.” Poe chuckled. “I’ve never once seen him angry, and I’ve known him near a decade.” Poe twisted his head back to meet Nordik’s eyes. “You could say you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”
Nordik frowned in confusion.
Poe sighed. “Man, we so need to get you reading some comics.”
“Wait,” he said, thinking back. “That sounds familiar. I know it. The green guy.”
Poe snorted out a laugh. “The Hulk. You mean the Hulk.”
“So Oenghus turns green when he’s angry?”
Poe laughed outright and kissed his cheek. “God, I hope not. That would be fucking disturbing. No, I don’t think he actually turns green. But he’s told me bad things happen when he gets mad. I never pressed because it seemed to sadden and scare him even to mention it. He’s got the highest tolerance of anyone I’ve ever known.”
Genii and Oenghus came back. Genii looked smug and raring for a fight. Oenghus looked upset and tired.
“Nothing like an asshole to get the juices flowing,” she said as she reached their table.
“Speak for yourself.” Oenghus sat heavily in his chair.
“I’m getting another round for all of us.”
“Genii, we shouldn’t—” Oenghus started, but Genii was already making a beeline for the bar. He sighed. “Oh, never mind.”
“No point in arguing with her. Ever,” Poe said.
“Don’t I know it.”
“Why did that man attack you?” Nordik asked.
Oenghus shrugged. “Hate’s everywhere. Do they need a reason?”
Oenghus’s sweet face wasn’t made for sadness, and it hurt Nordik to see it. Poe leaned forward and gripped Oenghus’s hand.
“Hey, buddy, you can’t help everyone. You can’t take in their problems. Don’t let them touch you that way.”
“It’s hard, Poe. For me it’s hard.”
“Close it off, Oenghus. I mean it.”
Oenghus took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. He looked at Nordik and must have seen the question in his eyes. He smiled slightly.
“My gift is seeing into another’s heart. It’s a poetic term for knowing a person’s true intentions. Whether they’re sincere or not.”
“That makes him overly sensitive.”
Oenghus glanced at Poe. “Yes, it does.”
“In some ways you are a truthsayer,” Nordik said.
Oenghus raised his brows. “Huh. Yeah. A little. But it doesn’t work on any old lie. I have to really concentrate on a person’s words to know if they’re speaking the truth. But I feel the animosity of others like a cloud on my psyche.” He rubbed his temple. “And I often get a headache.”
Nordik noticed he was playing with a small silver cross that had been hidden under his shirt. It shouldn’t have surprised him to see a religious symbol worn by an agent. The last couple of days showed him many agents were religious or spiritual, and it seemed to enhance, rather than hinder, their focus and determination.
“Oenghus? Why don’t you ever get angry?” Nordik asked on impulse, truly curious. He felt Poe stiffen on his lap even as Oenghus paled and fear flashed in his eyes. Nordik immediately regretted his question even as his curiosity deepened.
“Anger is a choice,” Oenghus said softly. “It solves nothing.” Then he looked away and took a drink.
There was more to it than that. He knew there was. But it wasn’t his business. Poe gripped his hand as if telling him to stop his questions. Nordik squeezed back in silent agreement.
Genii suddenly came striding up to their table without the promised beers. Her phone was out and her eyes were serious.
“We’re needed back at HQ.”
“Why?” Poe asked even as he stood and grabbed his coat.
She flashed a grin. “Finally getting our field assignments, boys and girls.”
“Thank God,” Poe said with feeling.
Nordik couldn’t have agreed more.
Chapter Five
Two months later
POE THOUGHT the plan couldn’t have gone better. Arcas’s message and bounty seemed to have pushed all the knights and knight wannabes into the open. Then it was just a matter of locating them and throwing an agent—or an allied shifter volunteer—into the mix and waiting for them to pounce. Bait for the hunters. But it was the bait who were the true hunters.
He thought his third mission with Nordik was going rather well.
A fist slammed into Poe’s face, and he coughed as pain radiated through his head. He spat out blood and looked back at four knight wannabes who thought they’d landed a big score. He sat strapped to a chair in an old abandoned warehouse—how cliché—and continued to provoke and trick them to reveal whatever they knew. It turned out they knew nothing of real importance, but every little bit helped. They didn’t know Gregor personally and seemed to only be in contact with one of his captains. But even that was minimal.
“We were sent your picture, you know,” the leader said. Poe thought he had
heard one of the others call him Alex when they thought him unconscious. He was a tall lanky guy with a pinched face. “We were on the lookout for you. We knew killing a few shifters would bring you right to us.”
The best thing about knights was that all of them seemed to want to gloat. Poe looked forward to stomping on Alex’s face. These four certainly had killed shifters… a family of shifters. Two parents and three children. The human authorities were looking for the perps, but Poe had beaten them to the punch. Literally.
It didn’t take long for Poe to realize these four weren’t the best trained. They had probably come in late to the Knights, before Poe himself led the assault against the organization and fractured it. They had abilities but were still novices. Though they proved even novices could be dangerous.
“You were right about that,” Poe said through a sore jaw. He hoped the bastards didn’t break any teeth. “So here I am. Gonna cut off my head now? Bring it back to your master like a good dog?”
He didn’t hide his disgust, and one of the women, a plump blonde who looked too sweet to be a homicidal maniac, slapped him. He laughed at the sting and struggled to see through both eyes with one nearly swollen shut.
“No,” Alex said. “You’re wanted alive.”
Poe raised his eyebrows. Interesting. Most likely to be used as bait for Nordik. Again. Fat chance of that.
“Come on, guys, stop dicking around.” The other woman—one with jet-black hair and a model’s face—turned around from where she’d been watching the door. “Are you gonna call them so we can get him out of here or not?” Of the four, she seemed to be the most level-headed.
“What’s the rush?” Alex said. “He ain’t going anywhere. We got him trussed up good. Some big bad agent. I thought this would be more of a challenge.”
Poe had to give them some credit. It took all his strength and fortitude to keep from screaming in agony as the naked pure-iron cuffs burned his skin. Pure iron affected those with manifested abilities, but any other metal compositions didn’t do anything. No one knew why. Just as no one knew why silver was anathema to shifters. While iron didn’t kill fae descendants like silver could shifters, it was still horribly unpleasant. It sapped his strength, and since it was not only around his wrists, which were behind the back of the chair, but also his ankles, he was thankful he had an ace in the hole.
