"Can I help you?" Derrick asked his uncle, ice on every word.
"No, I was just—"
"Then I'll take Christian to get ready. In my room," he said.
Christian's face was on fire. He knew enough not to say anything, though until he was alone with Derrick in the hallway. "What was that about?"
"Don't worry about it."
"That isn't what I asked. I asked what that was. It was weird, and I deserve an explanation. You've been I don't know… smelling jumpy."
Derrick paused. "What?"
How did Christian describe this new sense? Like he could smell who a person was and how they were feeling. "Sort of, like canned peaches. Sweet but tinny."
"I smell like canned fruit?" Derrick pushed his door open. "Do you want to think of something with a little less subtext infused into it?"
"I didn't say it for the subtext. It's how you smell. And you are distracting me on purpose. What was that pissing match?"
"I didn't like how close he stood next to you."
"Did we wake up in some Greek play or something? Do you have to be so Shakespearean about this?"
Derrick shut the door to his room. "I know that your body is changing. You've always had a scent that attracted me to you because you are my mate. But it's growing more pronounced, and other shifters are starting to notice. I've talked a little with some of the older shifters in the pack. There hasn't been a true mated couple in these parts since they were young. Everyone worried for a long time until they forgot about it as something that was supposed to happen." He paced around the room. "I mean, my kind still reproduced, got married--my parents got married. But marriage is a human construct."
For a moment, Christian felt hope. If people realized they were fated or destined, then Derrick would never be expected to fulfill his engagement. Even the other pack would understand that. "So they know? What's occurred between us?"
Derrick looked grim like he recognized the hope that had blossomed in Christian's mind and was about to crush it. "I mentioned the idea of mates to my father. If he didn't experience it, then it isn't real and changes nothing."
"But your uncle just sniff-harrassed me in the hallway. That has to mean they are noticing."
Derrick shifted his weight, looking a little uncomfortable. "That isn't really what he's sensing."
"What? Spit it out."
Derrick winced. "He isn't an alpha but his senses are sharp. He was likely attracted to your excitement."
"My what?"
"Even a regular person smells better when they are turned on."
"So your uncle thinks I smell horny and he likes it?" Christian wondered if he would throw up now or later.
Derrick's face screwed up into a disgusted scowl. "Don't say it like that." He growled then, low and menacing. "If he tries anything with you—"
"Do you think that could happen?" Christian asked, alarmed. "Why don't we just tell everyone?"
The silence that met his question should have been his answer. "Things aren't that easy," Derrick mumbled. "If it were just me and you and the opinions of only my family, things would be different." Derrick looked like he wanted to embrace him, but held back. They hadn't done anything romantic since Christian had found out about Bridgette. He'd worried for a moment that Derrick's feelings would cool towards him without a physical connection while Christian's feelings only seemed to strengthen.
It wasn't untrue, what Derrick said about Christian being more sensitive these days. He found that just being near Derrick made him hard. These days, just seeing him did. His skin felt prickly and uncomfortable. He'd started utilizing the mansion's well-equipped gym. The best thing about the gym was that almost no one was ever in there. Christian figured shifters were naturally muscled and also preferred to do their cardio in nature.
"It's the pack," Derrick said begrudgingly. "They don't follow us blindly. There have been rebellions in the past, but the Robichaud name has always come out on top. It isn't easy managing so many people. You don't know this because you are new to shifter life, but most packs are smaller, in the two digits, maybe a couple hundred if they've been around a while. But our pack numbers in the thousands. Babineauxes have about the same number, though they lose more of their pack members to the borders. My pack has to accept my partner."
Like they would accept Bridgette. "They would never accept me?" he asked it like a question, but it felt more like a statement.
Derrick grabbed Christian's upper arms, pulling him parallel to him. "I'll make them accept you." But he didn't say the last word, the most important word. Eventually.
Christian gently pulled out of his grasp and leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back. "So, we're at square one. An impasse. Why do I feel like some randy teenager in all this?"
Derrick had followed him and now stood so close he could touch him. "Because you find yourself horny and hard all the time?"
That wasn't untrue. But he would never admit it. "I don't like any of this. Maybe I could leave while this whole—"
"I got you something," Derrick said with a sly smile. He drew a line with his thumb from Christian's earlobe down his jaw line to his chin and then back up.
Christian swallowed his moan. He could allow that small touch. Just Derrick's one finger felt incredible. "You did? What?"
"I knew you probably didn't have anything," Derrick led them to his walk in closet. "So I got you this."
He pulled out an elegant gray suit with a darker gray tie. The material had a soft sheen that spoke of abundant wealth. Christian wasn't one to get tied up in designer names, but he knew wearing that suit he'd feel like a damn rock star or a secret agent.
"Are you trying to Pretty Woman me?"
"Am I what?" Derrick shook the confusion out of his head. "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place tonight. You're already going to be one of the only humans there."
Christian looked back at the tux, seeing it for what it was now. A mask. Maybe if he was dressed up nice enough the attending pack members wouldn't notice he was a human or the gay lover to an engaged man. "I can wear my jeans. I have a button up."
"Why?" Derrick demanded.
"Because I don't need your shame induced pity," Christian seethed. Despite the way Derrick made his body feel, he didn't need all of the baggage that came with it.
He didn't deserve it! He'd been a nice guy for most of his life. While nothing he had done had been because he was trying to make deposits into any karmic account, didn't he still deserve something good? Something easy?
"It isn't shame," Derrick muttered. "I thought you would like it."
Christian pushed his body away from the wall, bouncing it up against Derrick's. One hard body pressed against a harder one. He let his hands run across Derrick's chest--forgetting his guilt long enough to love the broad expanse of it. He remembered back to that first meeting in the alley. It hadn't been that long ago. Even dirty and sleeping in the street, Christian had been attracted to Derrick. He'd had no idea what a relationship with Derrick was going to mean. What it meant. Thinking about their first hours together, knowing what he knew now, it all felt so inevitable. If that was true, it wasn't fair for Derrick either. He was struggling through just as much as Christian was.
"I'm sorry," Christian murmured, memorizing the feel of Derrick's body over his clothes. "Didn't you once say I was too nice? I don't know what happened to that guy."
Derrick closed his eyes and made a rumbling sound deep in his chest. He bent forward, pressing his forehead against Christian's in a quiet, comforting embrace. "You're still there. I just manage to bring out your feisty side."
"Feisty side? That is kind." Christian would have called that other side of him some much worse names.
"I'd rather see that side of you than the side that lets people walk all over him."
Christian smiled and pressed his lips chastely against Derrick's. "If you see that happen you can just lift me up, away from their feet."
"Deal."
"Are we ready for this thing?" Christian asked about the Jubilee. It felt like a trial of sorts, a test.
Derrick held him tightly like he was afraid to let go. They were already victorious. "We have to be."
#
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Derrick snarled to his father.
They were in the study. The guests had begun arriving, but no one could hear their conversation. Derrick realized he was shorter with his father these days. He imagined it had something to do with almost taking charge, a biological reaction.
His father looked at him like Derrick's question had been a very dumb one. "Would you have allowed it? If I told you that I wanted you to announce your engagement tonight, would you have even come? I can't cover for you, can't make excuses as you drink your way across the states. Oh, no, I apologize, as you go out interviewing for PR advisers."
The PR adviser in question had entered the ballroom with Derrick. Derrick had had to leave him to speak with his father. He wanted to get back to him. He was on a dangerous ocean. His uncle had been like a shark earlier. Curious by a new and exciting stimulus, bumping into it to gain information. If Derrick hadn't of came upon them, would he have gone in for the bite? And now that his father had sprung this decision on him, how the hell was he supposed to salvage this night?
"The pack expects it. Your people need to see it."
"This is a joke," Derrick snapped.
"And so what if it is?" his father boomed, apparently finished with the conversation where his authority was questioned. "If it is a joke that saves lives, is it not a joke worth telling?"
"There is a different way to keep our pack safe, to keep the bayou safe. The Babineaux pack deals in drugs and booze. We don't need that type of influence."
"We sell our moonshine," his father said.
"Legally and with the right paperwork. You've worked hard to scrub the Robichaud name clean. I cannot understand why you want to sully it with that piece of white trash."
"Bridgette Babineaux is hardly white trash."
But she wasn't Christian so she would never be what Derrick wanted. The prospect of having to choose between his family, his pack, and Christian, filled him with dread. His wolf knew the choice he would make. His mate, always his mate. But his head, the part of him that was a son and a grandson, a leader, that part of him couldn't push behind everything he'd always known as eagerly as his wolf. He could disappear, and his father would remain alpha--until he was so old and stubborn, some other alpha came along to challenge him. Derrick could not stand the sight of his father's canine tooth, forcefully taken, slung around some punk alpha's neck.
There was no win here.
"The Babineaux are trying, son. They've already started scaling back on their more illicit affairs. More importantly, they've stopped roughing up our pack members who cross the border. The water is life, we've always had the upper hand. As the years go on, it becomes less crucial to be the ruler of the waterway. We need to be able to expand. You've had your fun. If there is a joke around here, it is how you allow yourself to be led by your dick. You allow that man to—"
Derrick growled so loudly it echoed all around the room. He'd moved without thought, pinning his father up against the wall with a hand under his throat. His dad's eyes flashed, but even with his squirming, his father was unable to get out of Derrick's hold. He was aging. It was only that sad thought that allowed Derrick the sense of mind to release his father down on his feet. "Don't talk about him like that," Derrick muttered and then stomped out of the room.
He glowered at the crowd that had formed outside of the study. He didn't see faces, only bodies that stood between him and the face that he needed to see. After that conversation, Derrick had just to look at Christian, see his smile, let himself bathe in Christian's warm glow.
More guests had arrived but not too many for Derrick to see that Christian was not in the ballroom. He wasn't sitting at the tables, at the bar or on the dance floor. Derrick continued forward, turning down the long hallway that led to the bathrooms. He saw Christian, hurrying toward him with his head down.
"Hey there," Derrick said, beginning to smile. He'd been right in choosing that shade of gray. It complimented Christian's coloring gorgeously. Then he saw Christian's face. His cheeks were red, and it looked like he'd recently wiped tears from his eyes. Derrick looked behind Christian, at the end of the hall stood a shifter. The shifter turned toward him. Uncle Dante.
Derrick examined Christian. He was upset; that was evident. He had the beginnings of red marks forming on his neck. Derrick imagined his uncle's hands around Christian's neck as his own had been around his father's. He was going to kill him.
"Derrick," Christian said, putting a halting hand on his arm.
"Did he touch you?" Derrick asked with a deadly tone.
"Yes, but Derrick—"
"No," Derrick said sharply. His uncle had begun lazily strolling towards them. Derrick tried giving Christian a reassuring glare. He wasn't mad at Christian, but he was mad. "Go to the ballroom. I'll meet you there."
"Derrick, please, this night is too important for you," Christian plead.
His sweet Christian. Leave it to his mate to always put everyone else first. "I won't do anything I'll regret," Derrick said. That was the best he could promise.
Christian nodded and disappeared around the corner.
Derrick approached his uncle.
"A little twitchy, ain't he? Where did you say you found him?"
Derrick ignored his question and lifted his uncle up by his neck. The other shifter kicked at him, but Derrick took his blows without actually feeling them. He threw the other man down the hallway. He struck the wall with a thud and a crunch. The crowd of party goers froze. Derrick's father stepped into the quiet circle that had formed around them.
"What is going on here?" he asked without anger.
"He's gone," Derrick said, indicating the groaning form of his uncle. "He leaves, or I keep kicking his ass."
Derrick's father looked behind Derrick as if searching for permission from someone back there. Derrick turned fast enough to see Mémé nodding somberly. That his family stood behind him so readily and without questions showed how much they trusted him or it showed how little they thought of Dante. Either way, Derrick needed the other shifter gone and off the estate before he could calm down.
"Drive him down to a safe house," Derrick's father murmured to one of the pack members. A handful of others lifted Dante up and out of the mansion.
The crowd thinned as people moved into the ballroom. Derrick walked through them and into the spacious room. He saw Christian. He had one leg propped up on the gold bar footrest that ran parallel to the floor. Christian leaned to the side, propping his weight on his elbow. It helped Derrick to see his mate look so calm and relaxed. So Dante hadn't done much harm to him. Still, he needed to check him over himself.
Christian saw him coming, and although there was a worry in his eyes, he smiled sweetly.
"Are you okay?" Derrick asked, his eyes going over Christian's body, examining his skin.
"Yes, he didn't hurt me. Just, cornered me and after our talk, I think I overreacted."
"No," Derrick said, taking a sip of Christian's untouched drink. "Don't discount your emotions like that. No one touches you." He set the drink down. "Unless you want them to," he added, more for Christian's benefit. As far as Derrick was concerned, no one touched his mate. Period. "I heard there was someone around here who could guess what I wanted to drink?" Derrick said, leaning next to Christian, letting the calm from being around his mate envelop him.
Christian grinned. "That guy is on a break. The last person he'd tried to guess got a little petty and didn't admit he was right."
Derrick winced, that guy had been him.
Christian bumped Derrick with his shoulder. He seemed set on trying to show Derrick he was okay. "Have I told you, you look gorgeous?" Christian said.
"Yes, but you can say it again," Derrick s
aid. "I'm glad you decided to wear my gift."
Christian studied him. He lifted his hand as if to caress his cheek and then, with a quick look around the room, let his hand drop. "What did your dad have to tell you?"
Derrick held his breath. He could brush the question away, distract Christian, give him a half answer. He didn't deserve that. "He wants to officially announce the engagement tonight."
Christian stiffened. His eyes tightened, and pain flashed behind them before he masked it all with a false smile that made Derrick really pissed off. "I guess that makes sen—"
Derrick cupped him with a loving hand behind his neck, holding him still and silencing his pandering reply. "Don't," he whispered so softly only Christian had a chance of hearing him. "Don't be that guy. Not with me. Fight for us, baby. I still am." He let him go, despite his intense desire to do the opposite.
There was a commotion behind him, and he looked back at it, along with everyone else in the ballroom. A scruffy man with long hair and an even longer beard entered the ballroom. He wore a suit, a little wrinkled but clean and had a blue bandana wrapped around his head. A stout woman walked in beside him, motherly in every way. They were flanked by a rough group of men ranging in ages from late teens to around Mémé's age.
The Babineaux pack had arrived.
The pack parted, revealing a tiny person they had circled like a protective detail. Bridgette flitted forward in a teal cocktail dress with a skirt made out of the same stuff as tutus. She looked like a tiny, prima ballerina.
"She's beautiful," Christian said.
Derrick grimaced. Bridgette did look lovely. But that didn't matter one iota. She still wasn't what he wanted.
"Go." Christian pushed him at his lower back. "As your PR adviser, I am telling you to go, mingle, do your future pack alpha duty. I'll be here."
Derrick turned. "Promise?"
Christian smiled a real, sad, small smile. "Where else do I have to go?"
Chapter 15
An hour later and the party was in full swing. Christian had moved from the middle of the bar to the end closest to the door. He'd watched Derrick interact with the crowd and finally decided that the pretense that Christian had been brought here on was bullshit. Derrick could mingle. He left groups of people more animated than when he joined them. He never stopped or stayed in one place for too long, but no one ever looked bereft or annoyed. Christian swirled his straw in his drink. He'd taken one sip all night, and that sip had made him so horny he didn't dare take another.
Wolf's Mate Mpreg Romance Box Set Page 27
