by Cari Z
“So, when are you going to stop fucking about and find a mate so you can join my pack?” he asked bluntly.
“Between dodging the fundamentalists and keeping myself from offending the resident packs, my time’s been a little busy,” Dan replied defensively.
“Bullshit. You have a different boy in every city waiting to jump at your beck and call.” Zeph knew him a little too well. “Pick one to fall in love with and get your libido under control.”
“It’s not that easy.” Being gay was never easy. Being gay and a werewolf meant that other shifters could smell attraction coming from you, and since the vast majority of shifters were biologically biased when it came to their preferences, being gay could get you into a lot of fights. Finding a mate changed that dynamic. It made you more trustworthy to the rest of the pack, made the fundamentalists a little more comfortable, made life easier. Dan had been looking for a long time. “It’s not like choices abound for me, man. Gay shifters hook up early or become loners if they want to live. As for the normals…they’re just so dull. Most of the time,” he amended, remembering that Zeph’s own mate and wife was a normal.
Zeph shook his head. “I worry for you, Dan. You’re too thin, too wild. Times are hard and it’s going to get more and more difficult for you to make your way alone. Human laws are changing. Things aren’t as permissive as they were during our parents’ era. The packs are growing tighter, more controlling.”
“I’ll manage,” Dan replied casually, hoping that Zeph couldn’t read him well enough to see how deep his loneliness really went. “I have for a long time now. I just came by to let you know that I’m going to be in the city for the next few weeks, maybe as long as a month. Darcy usually has some work to throw my way, and he always lets me sleep in the shop.”
“You were trained to be an electrical engineer and now you work on cars for a living.”
“It was a hobby before, now it’s a livelihood.” It was a pretty decent one, too. Every big city needed mechanics, and if nothing else, he could change oil and rotate tires.
“You can see Darcy tomorrow. I’m going to feed you up tonight. You look like a starved chicken.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Dan rolled his eyes.
“Are you going to speak to Carlos as well?”
Carlos Santiago was the alpha of Denver’s other pack.
Dan snorted. “You know how much I hate that fucking snake.”
Zeph shrugged. “Then I suggest you stay on my half of town. Don’t give him any reason to hunt you down.”
Dan suddenly thought of his interaction earlier that evening. “Where does that bar on Colfax fall in the turf wars?”
“Do you mean the Midnight Rose?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Neutral territory. The bar is owned by a vampire who’s fallen on hard times. He doesn’t allow for divisiveness in his business affairs. He books my daughter’s band to play there once a week.”
“Good. There’s a really hot bartender working there.”
Zeph just shook his head. “You have to grow up sooner or later, Sheridan. I hope for your sake it’s sooner.” He pushed off from against the desk. “Now, we’re going to the kitchen. Early breakfast for you, late dinner for me. You can tell me some of your adventures over the past few years while we eat.”
“Sounds good.” They started walking down the hall together, comfortably silent until Dan brought up the one part of their conversation that had surprised him.
“You let Rebecca play in a band? In a bar, with beer and groupies and grabby drunks? Isn’t she just sixteen?”
“Eighteen now, and far more frightening than anyone else in my life,” her father replied dryly. “Maybe its better you wait to settle down, Dan. Having someone else in my pack as high-spirited and irresponsible as Rebecca is might drive me insane.”
* * * *
For the first time since the beginning of the semester, Blythe fell asleep in class. One minute he was sitting in his constitutional law class, the only person there taking notes by hand, not on a laptop. The next, he was slumped over his desk, groggily coming back to life as a large presence with a loud voice made itself known by his side.
“If Mr. Kenner can give us his attention again, perhaps he can explain to the rest of the class the outline of the Supreme Court’s latest decision concerning the rights and restrictions of our First Amendment.”
“Dr. Arabaz.” Blythe glanced up at the bearded, scowling face before shaking the last of his sleepiness away. “The First Amendment, yes…” He managed to get out the bare bones of the ruling, thankful that he’d studied the article just that morning.
His professor nodded, barely, then turned his attention back to the rest of the class. Blythe pinched himself, fighting to keep his mind alert.
It was difficult, but he managed to stay awake for the next hour. As the rest of the students began to file out and Blythe was gathering his notes, his professor called out from the front of the room.
“Mr. Kenner, wait a moment before you go.” Thankfully, Dr. Arabaz waited until the class was empty before tearing into Blythe. “Mr. Kenner, I don’t know what your experience was like at your last university, but in my class, falling asleep is the surest way of failing, whether you’ve read the subject matter or not. Constitutional law is the basis for justice in our society, and I won’t pass a student who can’t be bothered to listen to my lectures.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Blythe apologised, fuming at himself internally. “It won’t happen again.”
“I hope not.” Dr. Arabaz peered closer at Blythe. “You look like something the cat dragged in. Late night, Mr. Kenner?”
“I work nights, sir. Last night ended up being later than I had anticipated.”
“I see.” He scrutinised Blythe a moment longer. “You’re a smart man, Mr. Kenner. You show a lot of promise in this field, if you can only apply yourself to it and get in with the right people at the right places. Have you considered applying for any internships?”
“Yes,” Blythe replied, trying to control the blush he was feeling at those faint words of praise. “But most internships are unpaid, and with my work hours, there’s no way I could fit in an internship right now.”
“What if it was a paid internship?” Dr. Arabaz didn’t wait for Blythe to respond. “Myers and Davidson’s firm downtown is looking for a new intern. They’ll be interviewing in December. They don’t advertise the positions, and they generally only respond to referrals from our faculty. You are my referral.”
Blythe was dumbfounded. “Really?” The professor of his least favourite class was recommending him for a highly competitive internship with one of the top corporate law firms in the state? He could hardly wrap his sleep-deprived mind around it.
“Yes, really. And I don’t want you to give me any reason to regret my decision, so I suggest you find a way to get enough sleep to cope. If you get the internship, I’m sure you’ll find the hours reasonable and the wages enough to live on without having to work two jobs.”
“That’s fantastic. Thank you.” He held out his hand and after a moment, Dr. Arabaz took it with a slight smile on his face. Blythe shook his hand vigorously. “Thank you very much. It sounds…I’ll do well, I promise. You won’t regret it.”
“Good to hear it. Now go get some sleep.”
Blythe left the school with a smile on his face. A paid internship, if it was enough to cover his bills, would be an absolute godsend. Internships were the best way to get in with law firms, and Myers and Davidson’s was a very prestigious firm. Regular hours, full nights of sleep…it was an incredible proposition. He felt newly energised just thinking about it, and was determined to get it no matter how hard he had to work for it.
Blythe caught the bus back to his apartment. He got out a block from his front door and shouldered his backpack, then made his way home. His eyes were blurred with exhaustion and he could hardly focus on the lock long enough to fumble the key into it. He tried once, twice, but on th
e third try, the key ring fell out of his hand and clattered to the pavement.
“Allow me.”
A long-fingered hand reached down and snatched up the keys before Blythe could even bend over. He whirled around on the stoop and found himself face-to-face with the same guy that had bugged him in the bar last night. He was grinning, the keys dangling from his index finger. And he was tall…Blythe was six inches up on the first step and this guy was still looking down at him, just barely. The potential for intimidation was there, but he didn’t seem to be trying and Blythe was in no mood to be fucked with.
“Give me the goddamn keys,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “What are you anyway, a stalker? Did you follow me home?”
“Not today.”
“Yesterday?”
“It was late. I just wanted to make sure you made it back to your place safely.”
“Well, don’t do me any more fucking favours, okay?” He grabbed for the keys, but the shifter held them just out of reach. “What the hell do you want?”
“Nothing!” the blond replied, batting his eyelashes innocently.
They were really long, Blythe noticed suddenly—really, really long and curled. His sister would have killed for eyelashes like that.
“I just want your name,” the man continued.
“I’m pissed off. Now give me the keys.”
“Hi, Pissed Off, I’m Dan. Dan Bailey.” He held out his free hand.
“You’re not cute. Give me the keys.”
“No, I’m not Cute, I’m Dan.” This jackass was enjoying himself way too much.
“I don’t care what you’re called, shifter or not, I will knee you in the balls if you don’t give me my keys in the next three seconds.”
The man eyed him sidelong for a moment, as if weighing the truth of Blythe’s last statement then reached past him, put the key in the lock and opened the door in one smooth motion. “There you go.”
The urge to say “thank you” welled in Blythe, but he choked it down and retrieved his keys, then stepped inside the small lobby.
“Quick question,” the shifter—Dan—said as Blythe began to shut the door. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his gaze was speculative. “Would you really have tried to knee me in the balls if I hadn’t given you the keys?”
“Yes.” Blythe shut the door in the shifter’s face, ignoring his sudden bright burst of laughter.
“See you tonight!” the cheerful voice called through the door.
“Great,” Blythe muttered to himself as he trooped up the three stories to his apartment. “I’ve got a stalker who thinks he’s a comedian. Brilliant.”
He didn’t waste any of his precious sleep time. As soon as he got into his place, Blythe closed the blinds, set the alarm and dove beneath his blankets. This time, he was too tired to conjure up pictures, but a particularly warm laugh seemed to echo in his ears as he drifted off to sleep.
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About the Author
Cari Z is a Colorado girl who loves snow and sunshine. She is back in America, finally, and loves it, despite having to relearn how to use a clutch. Writing consumes the free time that isn't spent on a mat or playing with her husband, or both (wonderful when interests coincide like that), and she hopes you enjoy what she writes as much as she enjoys writing it.)
Email: [email protected]
Cari loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.pride-publishing.com.
Also by Cari Z
Surviving the Change
Oberon’s Court: The Solstice Gift
Titania’s Court: Summer’s Child
