“Too true,” agreed Lovejoy, also joining them. Lovejoy was dressed for a date. Which meant his jeans were too tight, his shirt was unbuttoned too low, and there was too much gel in his hair. He was also wearing a gold chain and multiple rings. Lovejoy was not gay, but he was Italian. His current squeeze being a kitsune drag queen of diminutive stature and epically stylish proportions, he’d taken to putting in maximum effort for their dates. This generally seared eyeballs and amused everyone. Except said drag queen, who ordered Lovejoy around something fierce and was weirdly delighted by his Guido tendencies.
“Where you taking Our Lady of the Perpetual Feather Boa this evening?” Tank asked, hoping the couple was not intending to attend the mixer at Saucebox. He wanted to keep Isaac to himself for just a little longer. Admittedly, he was sharing the man with half the shifter population of the Bay Area, but sharing with pack was different.
“North Beach stand-up comedy thingy. Should be fun. Then a late dinner and a walk through the city.”
“Very romantic,” approved Kevin with a not-so-subtle shoulder nudge.
Lovejoy glared at him. “And what if it is?”
Kev held both hands up in a warding position.
Tank cleared his throat. “I’d best be off.”
“You’re okay with a five-night commitment for a while?” Alec had to be certain. It was his business to make his pack happy. Solvent, but also happy.
Tank nodded. “It’ll do for now. We’ll introduce Xavier to the idea of Kevin or Judd gradually, then maybe make the switch.”
“What are you doing with the idea of me gradually?” Kevin wanted to know.
Alec explained. “Tank took that bouncer gig last week and the club owner loves him, demanded him back this week, and now wants him on a full schedule for the foreseeable future. Apparently, the club is having shifter issues.”
“Why does everyone always like Tank best?” Kevin flopped back onto one of the couches with an exaggerated sigh.
“Until they meet Bryan,” amended Tank.
“True,” acknowledged Kevin.
“Until they meet Marvin,” added Lovejoy.
Alec smiled fondly at the mere thought of his mate. “True.”
Everyone liked Marvin – he was just so pretty, and nosy, and bossy, and sweet.
“So what you’re saying, really, is no one likes me best?” Tank made a face at them.
“They do when compared to me or Judd.” Kevin would not let it go.
Alec snorted softly. “You’re enforcers. You aren’t meant to be liked. You’re meant to be feared.”
Kevin grinned. “Oh well, when you put it that way, grrrr arrrrr.”
Tank patted him on the head. “Yes, dear, very fierce. Can I please leave now? I’m gonna be late.”
“Go on with you,” said the Alpha. “I’ll draw up a short-term contract, say three months on this schedule? That work?”
Tank nodded. He was a little slow on the uptake, and a little slow on the take down, but three months had to be enough time to seduce a human bartender. Or have him seduce me. Right?
* * *
The Thursday mixer got started a lot earlier than they expected. Apparently, word was officially out. Xavier was delighted. But by nine that evening Isaac and Clara were already exhausted. They hadn’t psyched themselves up like they would on a weekend. They should have. It was almost as busy as a Saturday.
Isaac slapped three shot glasses of high quality garum in front of a school of mermaids, then tilted his head toward the party of human tech-bros responsible. The ladies speared the bros with blue, turquoise, and teal expressions of mild interest. They downed the fermented fish sauce, then ordered Pearl of the Sea cocktails charged to those self-same bros and went to join them.
Isaac shook his head, suckers. He began to mix the cocktails. Rum, anchovy syrup, clam juice, finished with a splash of Worcestershire sauce, and a pickled onion wrapped in nori for garnish. He carried the cocktails down to the now raucous party, along with three more IPAs for the human males.
“You be careful now, gentlemen,” he cautioned, knowing the men would entirely ignore his warning. The mermaids reached for their cocktails, eyes gleaming.
Isaac wasn’t sure how he knew that Tank had arrived, but he did. There was just this sense of safety suddenly washing over the club. His wolf, jittery since last night, quieted inside him. The bar, usually such a heaven of fun and productivity, had become a risk since Hayden fixated on him. But knowing Tank was here not only calmed his wolf, it made his human side less worried too.
Isaac looked through the animated crowd of sycophantic humans fawning over supernatural creatures – the very definition, thought Isaac, of lambs to the slaughter. And there Tank stood, Isaac’s favorite werewolf. Well, Isaac’s only werewolf.
Man, I’m acting just like a dumb human. For here Isaac stood, wildly attracted to the very thing most dangerous to his fragile, stupid little life, not to mention his well-constructed facade.
Warm chocolate eyes twinkled at him from the doorway. Isaac was desperate for Tank to come inside and swing by the bar and check in with him.
But Tank only nodded and resumed door duties.
Isaac was fluttery as a teen knowing the big man must come visit at some point that night.
“Hey there, handsome!” said a familiar voice instead. Gladiola’s small form popped onto a barstool that was mysteriously suddenly vacant.
Isaac smiled at her, automatically reaching for a shot glass to serve her favorite drink.
Then he smelled it.
Werewolf.
His head came up sharply and he looked not at Gladdy, but at the young man she was tugging along behind her.
The kid was tall – well most werewolves were bigger than humans. Even Isaac was over six feet. But this one didn’t really look like any werewolf Isaac had ever met before.
The boy was just that, still a boy. Isaac didn’t osmose this information from his appearance alone. It was hard to tell age with werewolves, who mostly stopped aging once they were bitten. No, he got boy from the look in the kid’s eyes. There was nothing jaded or old there, just sadness.
If he hadn’t smelled like shifter, Isaac would have carded the kid.
Oh right. I’m supposed to be a human. Smell doesn’t count.
He asked for the kid’s ID.
The driver’s license put Colin Mangnall at only twenty years old and from Boston, so when Isaac handed it back he said, “You can have a soda, if you like.”
The werewolf’s lips curled, as might be expected. Wolves weren’t wild about carbonation.
“Glass of milk would be fine,” said Colin the boy-wolf. He had a nice melodic tenor and a quiet unassuming attitude. Isaac had thought Tank mild-mannered for a werewolf, this kid was practically self-effacing. Which is when Isaac figured out why Gladdy had brought Colin in to visit him.
Potential new client.
There’s something wrong with him and Gladdy wants me to provide counsel. To a werewolf.
Isaac handed Colin a glass of milk and nudged Gladdy’s drink closer.
“So?” he said, trying not to sound harsh.
Nevertheless, the boy flinched.
Colin really was a pretty thing. Fair-skinned, puffy-lipped, and blond – at least Isaac thought blond at first in the dim lights of the club. But with the smattering of freckles across his nose, he might be a strawberry blond. Cute. Not Isaac’s type, he liked his men more… mountainous, but he could see the appeal. Although he was a little young for Gladdy’s leash.
“This is a friend of mine, Colin. I brought him to meet you.” So, not one of her leash, just a friend – if he were a lover, she’d own to it.
Colin blinked at Isaac, as if he too didn’t quite understand what he was doing there. Or it might be the slight drugging effect Isaac had on eighty percent of shifters, especially werewolves. Well, most every werewolf he’d met until Tank.
If memory
served from last Thursday, Tank belonged to the ten percent of shifters who wanted to screw Isaac. The final ten percent usually wanted Isaac dead.
Or that’s how Isaac calculated it.
As neither Isaac nor Colin said anything, Gladdy opened negotiations. “Colin here is a werewolf and university student. He’s a good pup. Part of Tank’s pack.”
The boy brightened notably. “Oh! You know Tank?”
Isaac nodded. “He worked the door last week, good sort.”
Colin nodded. “Easy to be around.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
The werewolf fiddled with his glass. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess because he doesn’t ask anything of me.”
“But the others do? Your Alpha?” Isaac couldn’t stop himself from being what he was, from trying to help.
“He wants me better.”
“You’ve been sick?”
“Not really. Weak, I guess. Pathetic, more like.”
Isaac let that slide for the time being. “You aren’t living up to their expectations?”
“I don’t like shifting all that much.”
I hear you, kiddo. “And the pack sees this as a flaw?”
“They don’t think it’s healthy.” The boy paused, blinking as if he was emerging from swimming underwater. “Hey, why am I telling you this?”
“I’m easy to talk to.”
“But I don’t talk to anyone.”
Gladdy, who’d been sitting back and watching the whole exchange with her mouth slightly open, said, “He really doesn’t. This is the most I’ve ever heard him speak.”
Unfortunately, reminding Colin of her presence had the immediate effect of clamming the boy back up. It also reminded Isaac that despite how instinctually he slid into trying to help, especially a werewolf in pain, he couldn’t do it. Not for a pack member. Flirting with Tank was mildly idiotic. But counseling a werewolf was stupid in the extreme.
Isaac flinched away. He’d been doing that thing where he leaned over the bar, giving the young man the full force of his attention, cradling him with his gaze, helping him by becoming a vessel of utter acknowledgement of his existence.
The boy sensed his withdrawal and a flash of pain crossed his beautiful face.
Isaac sighed. Angry with himself. “Drink your milk, kid. Gladdy, a word?”
Gladdy slid off the stool and pushed her way through the crowd, meeting Isaac at the end of the bar.
Isaac lifted up the gate, walked through and crouched down to her level where they were mostly hidden by the masses. Clara would miss him soon, so he couldn’t stay too long out of sight.
“I can’t help him, Gladdy.”
The kitsune looked utterly flummoxed. “But, Isaac, you help everyone. You’ve never turned anyone away. Even that asshole barghest. You gave him a whole session before you sent him packing. You only said a few sentences to Colin, already he’s opening up. And he’s such a sweet kid. His brood family – they fucked him up real bad. Please, can’t you—”
Isaac was intrigued despite himself. “Not his pack?”
Gladdy’s metaphorical fox ears went back. “No! Well, not this one, not the San Andreas Pack. The one he came from in Boston, I can’t speak for them. But San Andreas rescued him, I think. Or his brother did.”
“He’s got a littermate here, does he?”
Gladdy nodded, brightening. “Kevin. Oh my god, he’s the cutest thing. Pack enforcer.”
Isaac tried not to flinch. His dad had been an enforcer. Before he fancied himself an Alpha and ended up running a cult.
I have to be firm here, he reminded himself. “Gladdy, no. I’m sorry but I can’t help this one.”
“But you could help him, couldn’t you?”
Yes, I could help him, but no. “I can’t, Gladdy.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“Same difference.”
“But why?” Gladdy practically wailed. “His Alpha is really worried about him.”
“He’s a werewolf.”
“But Isaac! You’re one of us now.”
“No. I’m not.”
“I mean an honorary shifter. We kind of tell each other about you. If someone is having problems we’re all like – go see Isaac. Human dude, works at Saucebox. Worth the price of admission.”
“I should start charging.”
Gladdy looked excited. “You should! Get an office together.”
“Sweetie, I never even attended high school. I’m not qualified to be a professional shrink.”
“Oh.” Gladdy looked crestfallen. “But could I pay you to help Colin?”
“I don’t deal with werewolves.”
“What? Why not?”
Isaac smelled Colin then and straightened, threatened, his instincts urging him to stand fully to put himself at some kind of advantage. Or in this case, on the level, as they were about the same height. Although Colin was a good deal thinner – too thin, really.
Colin looked at Isaac funny, as if disappointment had allowed him to cast off any soporific effect of Isaac’s abilities. Isaac’s outright rejection allowed the youngster to see him clearly, for one moment. His eyes were hungry and hurting.
Isaac wanted to reach for him. Sympathy rushed over him, drowning him in empathy and weakness. Every instinct he had was urging him to console and cherish. His wolf keened to be of use. To help and heal. To be whatever the boy needed. To tend to pack. His wolf wanted that so badly, more than he had ever wanted anything.
Except perhaps Tank.
Although that was different. That was just sex.
This was socialization, and instinct, and cohesion, and some dark crazy desire that would be Isaac’s undoing. Had been his undoing too often before.
“I’m sorry Colin. I can’t talk to you. I can’t help you.”
“Because I’m a werewolf?”
Isaac inclined his head.
“And you’re a man without a smell?”
Such innocence. The poor kid had landed on the heart of the manner. Fortunately for Isaac, Colin was too young, or too ill-trained in pack ranking systems, to know what that meant. Or it’s just that there were so few like Isaac in the world, Colin didn’t recognize one when he encountered him at a bar.
One of the packs Isaac had met in the wild had said that. Said that females of his rank were rare but that males were practically unheard of. Said he was special. Wanted to keep him. Keep him forever. Then demanded to keep him.
Then trapped him.
Then caged him.
Isaac reminded himself of that. Colin represented a pack too. They would try to do the same. Isaac must hide what he really was.
Colin blinked at him – pained eyes, pale lashes. “You’re scared of us. Scared of werewolves.”
Isaac nodded.
Colin sounded sad and small, “That I understand. Me too.” Then he turned and wandered away.
Gladdy gave Isaac a disgusted look. “That was badly done.”
“You should have warned me, Gladdy, before you brought him. Told me what he was ahead of time. I would have said not to bother. I would have told you that I can’t help children and I won’t help pack. You shouldn’t have brought me someone broken like that.”
“He’s broken like you, isn’t he?” Sometimes it was brought home to Isaac how old Gladdy really was. Ninety years on this earth and even someone as oblivious as Gladiola Kitsune picked up on others’ emotions occasionally.
Isaac inclined his head. “And if I don’t know how to fix myself…”
The little kitsune nodded. “You can’t fix him. I’m sorry Isaac, I didn’t know. No more werewolves, I promise. But you know Tank, at the door, is one of them, right?”
Isaac nodded. “Yep.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“Yep.”
“Because he’s only a bouncer or because of Tank being all, well, Tank-ish?”
Isaac shrugged.
Isaac flinched. What could he say to that?
Then Gladdy too was gone.
Isaac returned his attention to his very busy bar.
* * *
“That was quick,” Tank said, as Colin came back out only ten minutes or so after he went in.
Tank had been pleased to see him there. Colin needed friends and the mixer was a good idea. Gladdy as escort was a fine plan. But he also wasn’t too surprised to see his pack mate leaving so soon. Colin had trouble adjusting: to the move, to the pack, to the Bay Area, to crowds, to being out, to being in school, to, well, everything.
Colin gave that funny half-smile of his, the one that never reached his eyes. “He didn’t want me.”
“What!” Tank was instantly upset on his pack mate’s behalf.
Colin’s eyes widened and he started. “Oh. No! Not like that. I mean the bartender. Gladdy said she wanted me to meet this bartender.”
“WHAT!”
“Oh, god.” Colin moaned. “I’m doing this all wrong. Gladdy just wanted me to talk to him. It wasn’t like a set-up for a date or anything.” He flushed.
Tank instantly calmed. “Oh. Like for one of his counseling gigs?”
“Is that what he does with the others?”
“He didn’t with you?”
“Well, I think he started to. I mean he’s good. Really good. Made me feel all, you know, calm and stuff. I just started to say things I normally wouldn’t. But then it’s like he remembered something bad and this wall came down and he dragged Gladdy aside and said he couldn’t.”
Tank was floored. “But Isaac helps anyone who asks.”
Gladdy interjected, popping up near his elbow. “That’s what I said.”
“But he won’t help me.” Colin shrugged, trying to pass it off as no big deal. Although it’s clear that it was. “Not that I need help, of course.”
Neither Tank nor Gladdy said anything. Everyone knew Colin needed help.
Tank glared at Gladdy, and then he glared through the club at Isaac, who was oblivious, back to mixing drinks. “Why not our Colin? He’s a good kid.”
Colin rolled his eyes.
The Omega Objection Page 8
