by Myles, Eden
“You too!” she said with a wave before exiting the employee’s door in the back.
Kevin finished disinfecting the bar, turning on the security system, and switched off the lights. As his last act of the night, he gathered up the garbage, carrying two huge bags out with him through the same exit that Jolene had used. After locking up, he usually dropped off the night’s trash before slipping into his car parked behind the big blue Dumpster in the back. But as he approached it, he caught a scent on the air different from the usual scents of rotting garbage and city pollution.
The Dumpster loomed ahead. The smell was coming from it—a disturbing, decaying, meaty scent. Kevin stopped and looked at it, the bags on the ground at his feet. His eyes were keen, even in the dark. He glanced right and left, but there was no one there in the parking lot but him. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. He dreaded what he would find inside.
Taking a deep breath, he reached for the lid on the Dumpster and flung it open.
The crumpled body of a man lay inside, just as he had suspected, a mangled lump on top of yesterday’s trash. His face was raked with claws, his sightless eyes started up at Kevin, his mouth open in a scream he never had a chance to utter. His throat had been bitten out, and flies crawled busily over the wound.
Dropping the lid, Kevin stepped back, gagging. That’s when he noticed the blood painting the lid of the Dumpster. A single word:
TYR.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Kevin stayed well behind the yellow police tape while the Forensics Team removed the body from the Dumpster and loaded it onto a gurney to be shipped to the coroner’s office. A police officer—the fifth in just under an hour—approached him with a pen and pad and Kevin sighed with fatigue and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Mr. Sullivan, can you give me a detailed account of what happened here?”
Biting back the desire to say something snarky, Kevin started retelling his story about how he came out here to dump the day’s garbage only to find the dead man in the Dumpster. He stuck to the facts and avoided any mention of the name scrawled across the Dumpster lid in the dead man’s blood. Before calling the police, Kevin had taken a washcloth and the bleach solution he used on the bar top to it, removing any evidence of its existence. He knew if Jolene saw it, she would automatically connect it to the cabin, and then there would be more questions, more police. They might probe too far, find out too many things.
Fenrir frightened him. That was true enough. But he knew he had to protect his pack, his family. The humans couldn’t know anything. It was another of the ordinances of the pack. And it was better this way.
“Does your employer have any enemies that you’re aware of?” the cop said.
“None. Well, her ex. But he wouldn’t do this.” There was no point in covering up the fact that Jolene and her ex weren’t on the best of terms; everyone knew that already.
The cop nodded and asked for Jolene’s ex-husband’s name. “We’ll check him out, but it’s doubtful anyone human is involved in this,” the cop said as he scribbled away.
Kevin felt his heart jump into his throat. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you get a look at the guy? Looks like some animal got at him, tore him up pretty bad—maybe some pit bulls. We’re aware of a few dog rings around here. Of course, that doesn’t explain how he got in your Dumpster.” The cop examined him like Kevin had something to do with it.
Kevin did his best not to look guilty. Let the cops pursue the dog angle, he thought. If they started chasing a dog ring, they wouldn’t give a single thought to the murderer being anything but human. “I have no idea why he’s here,” Kevin sighed wearily, watching the Forensics Team loading the body into the back of the coroner’s van. He knew he was paper-white because he was still in shock, and he took pains not to do anything so stupid as to suggest a scenario. He could easily say “Maybe he ran afoul of one of the rings, owed someone money. There are a lot of bad people in this part of town.” But he knew he’d just come off as desperate…and possibly guilty.
The cop looked him over and he could see him mentally dismissing Kevin as young, bewildered, and painfully average. The man in the Dumpster was pretty large, and Kevin didn’t exactly look like a brawler. He was about to ask the cop if they were done here and if he could go home when Jolene pulled up in her big, pink Cadillac and jumped out, rushing over to them.
“Jesus Christ, Sugar, are you all right?” she cried as she hugged him. Her clothes were wrinkled and her hair awry. She looked like she’d rolled out of bed and into her clothes, then rushed downtown, which she probably had.
“Yeah, Jo, I’m fine. Really.” Kevin made a show of rubbing his eyes. “Just tired.”
The police started clustering around Jolene, hitting her with the same barrage of questions they’d been asking him for the past hour. Kevin looked up at the officer still standing over him. “Look, I told you guys everything I know, and it’s almost four in the morning. Any chance I can go home and get some sleep? I have to work tomorrow.”
“We need you to come downtown and file an official report.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow morning? I’ve been up going on eighteen hours now. I don’t think I can sign my name straight at the moment.”
The cop nodded. “We’ll need you first thing.”
Kevin headed for his car. Like he’d be able to sleep after this. Yeah, sure.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Jolene called him at noon the following day to tell him the club would be closed until the cops and coroner sorted things out. A day or two, at least, she said. She wasn’t happy about it, and neither was Kevin—he liked work, liked having a routine—but she told him to make the best of his impromptu vacation. She said he should relax, go visit his boyfriend.
“They have any leads?” Kevin muttered into the cell he’d pulled under the covers with him. His heart was banging around his chest and he hated the idea of the police sniffing around his workplace. What if Roman, or one of the pack, showed up? What if the police somehow fingered Fenrir? If the man was linked to the murder, would he take the whole pack down with him?
“They think it might be gang-related, or something to do with a dog ring.” She let out her shaky breath in a sigh. “They found hairs on the dead guy. And get this, they were wolf hairs. They think there may be a dog ring using wolves in the city.”
Shit. “That sounds so weird,” Kevin said, feeling slightly sick to his stomach.
“This is New York, sugar. I’ve come to expect the weird in this town.”
Kevin told her to keep him updated, hung up, and got out of bed for a very hot shower. After going downtown to the police station to fill out the necessary paperwork, he stopped to get two giant bacon cheeseburgers for lunch, then drove out to Roman’s mansion. A scrawled warning was one thing, a dead body—especially if it endangered the pack—another. He was trembling, terrified this all would go south if he didn’t talk to Roman.
One of Roman’s boys let him into the mansion. The guy, a lean, dark-haired model named Jason, was manning the lobby and watching a daytime soap. “Roman’s waiting for you on the roof,” he said.
“How does Roman know I’d be here?”
Jason guffawed. “Roman knows everything that goes on in this town.”
Throwing off an uncomfortable shiver, Kevin took the elevator to the rooftop gardens. It was a clear and balmy day, with just enough humidity to hint at the oncoming dog days of summer in the city. Half of the roof was dedicated to an Olympic-sized, in-ground swimming pool full of crystal clear water. Most of the pack were skinny-dipping, shouting and dunking each other and throwing a beach ball around. The other half of the roof was dedicated to the garden—rose bushes, exotic fruit trees, orchids, shrubbery, and giant flowering bushes growing in urns. Roman said that Anya was an avid botanist and liked to bring a little of the wild to their city home.
Roman and Anya were sitting in the garden
around a glass patio table, drinking tea and discussing the newspaper they had divided between them. They were both dressed casually—Roman in a smoking jacket and slacks, and Anya in a long, silky, Greco-inspired gown. Roman had braided his hair back and it swished against his back as he discussed something about their financial holdings with his pack mate. Fenrir was nowhere to be found, and that made Kevin feel uneasy as he made his way toward them. Anya spotted him as he approached, stood up and gave Kevin a keen look. “I think I’ll go prepare for the party tonight and leave you two boys alone.”
When she was gone, Roman indicated the newly vacated seat. “Sit, Golden Eyes. Take tea with me.”
“I’m not here to socialize,” he told the pack alpha. He should be pissed with Roman for letting this happen, he knew, but just the sight of their gorgeous, debonair leader made his heart thud at a ferocious rate in his chest and his dick harden in his jeans. His teeth were suddenly much sharper in his mouth. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to throw off the sudden desire to get down on his knees and rub himself against his alpha’s side. He wanted to present himself to Roman, let the man ride him like a trick circus horse. He put it out of his mind. “I’m here to talk about the murder. I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.”
At least Roman didn’t pretend to not know what Kevin was talking about. He did indicate the paper in his hands. “They identified the victim. Apparently, he was a pedophile and known sex offender. I would hardly say what happened to him was murder…more like garbage pickup.” He wrinkled his nose disdainfully, baring longer-than-normal canines. “If you ask me, the world is a much better place without such men in it.”
“I don’t care who he was. I only care where he was killed—which was practically on my doorstep!” Kevin took a deep breath to keep from losing his temper. “Aren’t you at all concerned that the police found wolf hairs on the victim?”
Roman, who was wearing a pair of shades, slid them down his nose so he could better observe Kevin overtop them. They looked more wolf than man. “No.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We have humans in high places in the police and government to cover our indiscretions. Even as we speak, the police are investigating an exotic dog-fighting ring in connection with the murder. By next week, they’ll have closed the case file.”
Kevin shook his head in fury. “I can’t believe this. So whoever did this just walks, then?”
“You believe my pack is somehow responsible.”
“Wolf hairs were found on the victim,” Kevin said. “That’s not a coincidence, Roman.”
“Orphans frequently pass in and out of my territory. It could be any number of werewolves who are responsible. I assure you, the matter will be investigated.”
“And then?”
Roman pressed his lips together. “And then I’ll take steps to rectify it, if necessary.”
Kevin shook his head. “It wasn’t an Orphan. It was Fenrir. He attacked me.”
Roman paused like a switch had been hit. He looked at Kevin long and hard.
“You didn’t know.”
Roman set the paper neatly aside. “When exactly did this…attack occur?”
“In the mountains, during our hunt.” Kevin took a deep breath and let it out. “And there’s more. He’s left me messages. Threats.”
“Perhaps you’re mistaken.”
“I know it was him, Roman. He wants me out of the pack.”
It was difficult to read Roman’s expression. He was old, that much was obvious, and a master of control. His face revealed nothing. “I decide who joins our pack and who doesn’t. I’ve decided that you’re in and you are.”
“I think Fenrir has a different opinion, Roman. I think he’s more dangerous than you think.”
Roman steepled his fingers together. “If Fenrir—or anyone else—is deliberately threatening our cover in this city, I, as alpha, shall deal with him.”
“You better deal with him. Or I might have to.”
Roman narrowed his wolf eyes. “What exactly are you implying?”
Kevin thought about that. He reminded himself that the truth was usually the best route to take. “I’m not sure, exactly. Believe me, I don’t mean him, or you, any harm. I want to be here. I want to be one of the pack. But, Roman, I’m not going to take this lying down. You either reign in your lieutenant or there’s going to be a problem.”
“You realize I can construe that as a threat.”
“I don’t care how you construe it, just as long as you talk to him…before I do.”
A smile suddenly curled across Roman’s lips. “I don’t know if you realize it, but you talk like a Pedigree.” He stood up and offered Kevin his hand. “We’re planning a celebration tonight in your honor, a little party that Anya wants to throw to welcome you into the fold. Stay with me today. I want to be with you. Later you may enjoy the bounty of being one of the pack.”
Despite everything, Kevin felt a rush of desire. His traitorous cock twitched in his pants, and when Roman kissed him he felt himself melting against the other man. Roman cupped the front of him, massaging him through his jeans with a wise and wicked smirk. He knew. He knew how badly Kevin wanted in. He knew how much he wanted Roman. Against his better judgment, Kevin took his alpha’s hand.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
Kevin woke alone in Roman’s bed. He felt sore, well-used, and wonderful. They’d spent considerable time licking and biting each other before Roman invited Kevin to mount him from behind. Kevin had considered it a privilege. Afterward, they’d switched and Roman had ridden him hard to climax. Their mating had been brief, rough and satisfying. Kevin couldn’t imagine ever sleeping with a human being again.
He turned over on the rumpled sheets and stretched in the darkness. The sheets smelled like wolf and sex. He scented some of the other pack members as well, but that didn’t bother him so much. He liked the smell of pack. It felt safe. It felt like home.
Roman had explained that werewolves, unlike real wolves, were not naturally monogamous creatures. The drive to mate was too strong. Even if he and Roman were to become alpha mates at some point in the future, they would not be what human would call “exclusive”. They would want—would need—an open relationship. Sex cemented the relationship between an alpha and the wolves in his charge.
At first, Kevin expected the idea to offend the human in him, but he quickly found it didn’t really bother him, and when he thought about it, the long string of emotionally-detached relationships he’d had fit the werewolf lifestyle very well. Underneath it all, he’d never been a monogamous type of guy. He liked being with Roman, but he also liked mating with the other werewolves, and the idea of Roman mating with them even turned him on.
He sniffed the pillow, sifting a myriad of scents through his acute sense of smell, but detected nothing of Anya, which he found strange. They were alpha mates, according to Roman, yet they didn’t seem to have the kind of intimacy he expected. More like an old-fashioned arranged marriage of some type.
Then again, werewolf relationships were complex and he didn’t understand everything just yet. After making love, he and Roman had lain snuggled together for hours while Roman explained the ins and outs of pack structure to him. All the members of the pack had open relationships—that is, any member of the pack could mate with any other, so long as it was a consensual union.
That piqued his curiosity. “What kind of…union…do you have with Anya?”
“You sound jealous, Golden Eyes.”
Kevin shrugged. “I’m just trying to understand.”
Roman sighed and rubbed himself in a slow and sensual way against Kevin. “Long ago, I was like you once. Alone. Untrained. I didn’t know my parents, didn’t know the slightest thing about being a wolf. Then Anya came along and we became good friends. She is very old, older than even I. She became my mentor, you might say, and from there, we developed an intimacy. She understood my preferences in a partner, of course, but
she didn’t care about that. She was old before I ever met her, and she’d had many ‘true loves’ over the centuries. She was seeking a trustworthy friend to father an unborn Pedigree child with her. Thus, we came to this arrangement. She allows me to have my boys, and I service her in her desire for offspring.”
“Yet there are no offspring.”
“What makes you say that?”
Kevin sat up and cradled his head on his hand as he looked down at Roman’s smooth, aristocratic face. “Because you’re still together after a hundred years.”
Roman’s eyes darkened, the first genuine emotion that Kevin had ever seen in them. “Anya has never successfully carried to term.”
“She can’t have children?”
“She can conceive but she can’t carry the child for long. Perhaps it has something to do with the mechanics of her shifting, or her body, or this is just the way she is. We don’t know why.”
Kevin felt a tension in the air. Obviously, he’d hit on a sore spot for Roman. “Sorry.”
“I’d rather not speak of such unpleasantness,” Roman said, cupping the back of Kevin’s head and pulling him down for an open-mouthed kiss, his cock already springing to life between them.
Now, as he lay there alone, he went over their conversation in his head. It bothered him more than he’d thought. Roman had always seemed a little overenthusiastic about having him in the pack. His pack. He said Kevin had the potential to be an alpha, but how would that work, three alphas leading the pack?
Unless, of course, he had some other more dubious reasons for keeping Kevin around. Was Kevin the sacrificial lamb in wolf’s clothing to be given to Anya to satisfy her desire for a pup while Roman went off to create his own pack?
“Maybe,” he breathed into the dark. “Or maybe you’re just being incredibly paranoid.”
But why would Roman—so beautiful and old and sophisticated—otherwise take any interest in someone like Kevin? He wasn’t anything like Roman. He was a fucking barkeep. He wasn’t rich or ambitious. He was moderately good looking, but nothing like the chiseled, model-like studs that Roman had chosen over the centuries as companions.
