A Cowboy in Ravenna

by Jan Irving

  “Yes, I’m scared.” he said.

  Sabin tensed.

  “Not of Trin. Have you really let yourself look at him instead of just throw verbal rocks? That white cowboy hat isn’t just an accessory.”

  “It’s not white. It’s off white,” Sabin said.

  “I know you… Uh, I get the feeling you haven’t had good experiences with a lover—”

  “I hate someone’s hands on me.” Sabin panted. He avoided Chace’s gaze.

  The outburst had been accidental, Chace guessed. But he said, “Trin will be back soon. Do you need anything while we’re gone?”

  “I’m going with you,” Sabin said.

  “You’re in no shape to…” Chace looked at the dark smear left by a fist below Sabin’s eye, sure that if he pointed out the shiner Sabin would sneer. Chace shut up and crossed his arms, waiting to hear Sabin’s reasoning.

  “It’s better if I show up for pack meetings. Marcello Rossi doesn’t like to be shamed.”

  “He’s your mate?”

  “I’m his,” Sabin said, voice as full of life as dried concrete.

  Chace remembered those moments in the Arian Baptistery, Trin’s arms around him, his body a shield when Calhoun showed up. Sabin had never known anything like that.

  “Why are you mated to this Marcello if you don’t love him?”

  “Love? You really are a virgin.”

  “Enough of a virgin to know I deserve a man who cares about me, or at least someone who will show me a good time,” Chace said.

  “Whatever. It wasn’t a forced mating,” Sabin said. “We made a bargain. Marcello helps me find the kids from the tankers and I…” The corner of Sabin’s lip lifted. “Do what I do best.”

  “You deserve better than that.”

  Sabin ignored him, getting off the bed and picking up his wrinkled shirt. “I need to soak it in hot water.”

  “Wear one of my shirts. I have plenty.”

  The bathroom door closed behind Sabin.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Chace murmured.

  He pulled out his drawing pad to flip through the illustrations he’d captured of the mosaic carpets. Was it just yesterday Trin had kissed him for the first time? God, he’d come alive, the brush of lips against lips, warmth, hardness enclosing him as Trin fed on him, ravenous.

  Think of what you want to attract, not what you fear, he told himself, repeating the basic rule of universal attraction Sash had taught him. Chace was nervous about tonight but he wanted Trin, so he was just going to focus on Trin.

  Chace picked up his pencil and his hand took over. He was sketching Sabin, a younger Sabin with innocence and curiosity in his eyes, but he couldn’t get it right. His shoulders tightened with irritation. He hated when he couldn’t capture someone, though usually when he left it his unconscious worked it out.

  The key turned and Trin entered. “Sabin’s in the shower?”

  Chace nodded. He put aside the drawing, immediately more centred. “He says he’s coming tonight.”

  “Good, I want to meet his mate.” Trin’s voice was the rumble of thunder. “You mean to talk me out of it?”

  “I want the man who put bruises on Sabin to hurt.”

  Trin’s chest rose and fell sharply. He fisted Chace’s hair. “Jesus, you are hot, the way you’re impulsive, the way you take me out of myself and show me stuff I never thought I’d get, making it real.”

  “So you’re saying I’m hot when I’m pissed?”

  “Especially when you’re pissed.”

  Trin’s mouth on his, a full on, I want my man kiss.

  Chace whimpered, a submissive sound, but then tugged Trin to the bed and climbed on top of him, holding his wrists above his head. He felt a bit like a kitten holding down a tiger, but Trin’s eyes said I like it!

  He’d never imagined he’d have this confidence, that Trin would encourage it. He kissed the side of Trin’s face before tonguing his ear. Trin shuddered. “Oh Christ, you’re a switch.”

  Chace sat upright, considering. “I go from submissive to bossy, you mean?”

  “Yeah. I never know if I’ll be the beast you dominate or the man you lie under.”

  Chace ran his teeth down the vein in Trin’s neck. “Mmmm. I like mapping out my sexual identity with you.”

  “Oh, fuck, yeah!” Trin hollered. “I want to be yours. Your animal, yours—”

  Chace jerked back. Shit. “Sabin,” he croaked.

  Trin squeezed his eyes shut. Claws scraped Chace’s T-shirt before Trin pushed Chace away, curling up. “I need a good ride about now,” Trin said.

  “No kidding,” Chace agreed with feeling.

  Trin cracked a pained laugh. “That’s not what I meant. But yeah…” His grey eyes focused on Chace’s face, held on. “Tonight is dangerous for you. Things have a way of…not exactly being what you expect when you go to a pack meeting.”

  Chace swallowed, nodded. “I had a feeling.”

  “You have to do everything I say.”

  Chace reached out, touched Trin’s heart under his blue denim shirt. He was wearing his hand-tooled Western boots, scarred from long, hard use, and his worn jeans. He was the quintessential cowboy.

  “I know I don’t fit in here,” Trin said as if he’d read Chace’s mind. “Fancy art, fancy furniture…” The molten gold eyes of the beast looked at Chace through Trin’s eyes.

  “No, you don’t.” He stroked Trin’s chest. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ve totally fucked your holiday.”

  “Just my holiday? You’ve fucked my life.” Chace said. “Keep on doin’ it.”

  Trin laughed again. “You’re crazy.”

  A fist pounded against the door.

  Trin raised his head. “Calhoun.”

  “Showtime,” Chace said. “Get the door.”

  Trin’s face tightened as if he wanted to try to talk Chace out of coming. Instead, he left the bed they’d gone wild on for an all-too-brief time and let Calhoun in.

  “Did you find what I asked for?” Trin asked Calhoun.

  Calhoun’s eyes ran over Trin’s body then took in Chace, curled up on the bed, still throbbing. “I’m looking forward to watching your boy submit in the mating ceremony,” he drawled. Then his gaze snapped to Trin. “Easy, shifter. I know he’s yours. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy seeing you with him.”

  “Maybe he won’t be the one submitting.”

  “I’d pay good money to see that,” Calhoun said.

  Trin’s snarl sent ice down Chace’s spine. By Trin’s side at once, Chace touched Trin’s arm.

  Calhoun dropped a heavy duffle on the floor. “What’s that scent?” He frowned. “Someone else is here.”

  “Sabin.” Chace went to the bathroom and knocked. After a few moments, he opened the door. The little window was open, admitting a draught of warm air and the settling sounds of birds.

  But no Sabin.

  * * * *

  While Trin was in the bathroom shaving, Chace dug through the contents of the bag. He pulled out chains so heavy he couldn’t lift them.

  “Calhoun knows his stuff,” Trin said, wiping shaving lotion off his face.

  Chace remembered Trin working a prairie fire a year ago, using a chain saw to bring down trees in a fire break, shovelling out spot fires. He’d fought to save not only the ranch, but thousands of acres of the national park.

  It helped, remembering that. Trin was a man he could trust. Always.

  “I’m glad someone does.” Chace attempted a dry tone, but his voice cracked. He couldn’t bullshit Trin, so why try? “Trin, I’m freaked.”

  “I’ll take care of you. Nothing will happen tonight unless you want it.” Trin’s voice bore an underlying growl.

  “Like anything you ever do to me I don’t want. That stuff you talked about, displaying me in front of other men. That starts now?”

  Trin nodded. “Shifters aren’t modest and these shifters are…old fashioned. That means they see you as my property.” />
  “How do you see me?”

  “I see you as my boss one day, and an amazing artist who is going places. I figured…” Trin rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d leave me in the dust. But ever since we got here to Ravenna, you’ve taken the time to show me stuff. I want to thank you for that, Chace.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I want you here.”

  “As for my wolf, yeah, he just sees you as his.”

  Chace swallowed. “Can you tell me what’s going to happen tonight?”

  “Can’t. Shifters will know by your scent if I do that.” Trin folded his arms. “Chace… If I’m pushed too far I’m not sure I can stay in control. I’m no hero. I failed to protect Sage.”

  “Failed to protect…” He couldn’t even finish. Anger and disbelief mushroomed inside his chest. “Is that what you think happened to your son, that you failed to protect him?” Trin was silent, holding Chace’s gaze.

  “So those other shifter families who lost their kids, they were careless too.”

  Trin opened his mouth. Closed it.

  “How many came the night he disappeared, how many, Trin?”

  Trin’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, I’ve been talking to Calhoun while you were in the shower. I found his number on your BlackBerry. He says these outlaws come in numbers like any other gang.”

  “I don’t…” Trin shook his head. “It’s not relevant.”

  Chace smacked Trin’s chest. “It’s cutting you like barb wire.”

  “It should.”

  “He’s your son and you love him but it was never your fault.” But even as he said the words, he could see that Trin just didn’t believe them.

  Calhoun arrived in a black BMW 3-Series after sundown, and Chace opened the passenger door to climb in next to him.

  A work-roughened hand grabbed his arm, tugged him back onto the street. “I’ll be damned,” Trin said.

  Chace blinked. “What gives?”

  “You’re going to play with him?” Trin jerked his head towards Calhoun.

  “Huh?” Chace looked at Calhoun, seeing his impassive face, his mirrored sunglasses and the black leather fitted with straps and pockets he bet weren’t for carrying around Girl Guide cookies.

  Then he looked at Trin, cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes, plaid shirt over a black wifebeater, arms bulging tension. “You think I want to date him?”

  Trin opened the back door. “Get in.”

  Fuming, Chace did. Trin slid in beside him. “Let’s get it done,” he told Calhoun, who pulled out onto the street. The sleek car bumped on the medieval paving.

  “I’m not going to fuck Calhoun,” Chace said. “I know we’ve got a mission and it’s important, so let’s just get this out so we can focus.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you’re not going to fuck me,” Calhoun drawled.

  Trin yanked off his hat, working the brim in his big hands.

  “Have you eaten your crazy cornflakes?” Chace demanded.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I saw you sliding in next to him and I…” Trin shrugged. “Shifter DNA. We don’t like another shifter too close to our mates.”

  Chace nodded. “All right. I’ll try to remember. And for the record, I was going to sit there since you seemed to need your space.” Trin had been quiet since Chace had tried to get him to see he wasn’t to blame for Sage’s disappearance.

  “I don’t need space,” Trin said. “Not from you.”

  Outside of old town Ravenna, the Italian countryside became fields undulating into the horizon, roadside flowers and strip malls, not so different from where Chace had come from, except the signage was in Italian.

  “Where is this place?” he asked Calhoun.

  “Closer to Venezia.” His lips quirked. “Sorry, Venice. Picked up some of the local lingo.”

  “You’ve been here a while,” Trin said.

  “Yeah. After I’d gone from city to city in the States and Canada, I figured the kids were being taken off-continent. It’s why we never found them. Italy is…a clearing house.”

  “Jesus,” Chace said. Sickening bile rose in his throat. And if he was sick, how must Trin feel? And yet he was here, willing to do what it took to help stolen kids get home.

  “If you want some shut eye, you might want to snag it now,” Calhoun said. “I’ll wake you when we get to the woods.”

  “I want to see Italy in the moonlight,” Chace said.

  “Your choice.”

  He wanted to see Italy in the moonlight with Trin a little closer than hugging the opposite door, as if he planned to leap from it to get away from Chace.

  Trin rolled his window down, filling the backseat with the cool dry spice of the night. “Reminds me a bit of that final scene in Gladiator,” Chace said. “All that golden wheat. Must be three weeks ahead of Montana’s growing season.”

  “Yeah,” Trin said, sounding a little homesick. He probably ached for his beloved mountains. For the cold that could come out of fucking nowhere, even in the middle of July, or the fires that could take grass, homes, thousands of acres of trees and leave black ash, burnt-out hope.

  “I can’t wait to go home with you,” Chace said.

  Trin gave him a startled look. “But—”

  “I love Italy, but it’s a country and it’s a lot to take in. Guess I’ll have to come back when this trip’s over.”

  Trin swallowed. “I thought… You said you could be yourself here.”

  “Because it’s one of my choices, Trin. That’s what I meant.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Having you as my boyfriend is also one of my choices.”

  Trin choked, as if the idea of being anyone’s boyfriend was as alien to him as this trip to Italy.

  “Okay, yeah, it’s an inadequate word, ‘boyfriend,’ like we’re sixteen or something, but I figure it’ll have to do until we can get married one day.”

  Trin eyed him the same way he’d watched him that morning Chace had burst into his kitchen and blown his peace and quiet to smithereens. “I guess I don’t have a say,” he said.

  “No,” Chace said. “You’ve demonstrated some poor judgement. I’ll do the thinking for us.”

  “Those chains I asked Calhoun to find…they’re for me, Chace.” Trin’s voice was sombre.

  “I figured. I doubt you’d need that much weight to hold me down.”

  Trin wouldn’t come to him, all stiff and scared, so Chace slid along the seat towards Trin. “You tied down. It’s hot.”

  Trin was breathing hard. “I guess I just flipped your switch.”

  Chace bit Trin’s ear. Trin gasped, his body arching, giving himself, giving himself so easy, big and dangerous and totally Chace’s possession. Chace caught Calhoun watching them in the rear-view mirror.

  He whispered in Trin’s ear. “I can still feed it to you when you’re tied down. You can lick my come, keep me hard, and we don’t stop until our bodies give out.”

  There might be blood and pain in their near future, and Trin still dragged guilt like tin cans tied to a cat’s tail. But Chace was where he wanted to be—in Trin’s arms, with a swollen moon rising over the rippling fields.

  Chapter Nine

  “I smell Sage,” Trin whispered. “I smell my son.”

  “Oh, shit.” Chace looked frantically around, trying to spot a young man who looked like the portraits he’d done of Sage over the years. But all he saw was a bonfire in the centre of a clearing surrounded by Mercedes SUVs, Vespas in various bright colours and other more nondescript vehicles.

  Closer to the fire, men and women and even some kids were chatting as though this was a church social, a few nursing beers. One man in a ripped jean jacket was sipping what looked like espresso from an elegant gold-rimmed cup. It looked like a barbecue back home, except they weren’t in Western gear. The clothing ranged from expensive suits to leather, but all the shifters, blonds to brunettes, caught the eye. They weren’t uniformly oh-my-God-gorgeous, they were just…
more. Chace couldn’t think of another way to put it.

  Unfortunately, none of them looked like Sage.

  “Are you sure?”

  Trin nodded.

  “Trin, if he’s here, we’ll find him, I swear to you,” Chace said, reaching up and gripping Trin’s face. “But you need to stay frosty. We can’t fuck this up.”

  Trin expelled a breath. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’m still new to this shifter stuff so you’ll have to educate me fast. You say you can smell Sage? Is this the first time since he…disappeared?”

  “I don’t know.” Trin wouldn’t look at him. “Sometimes I catch it, but it’s never him.”

  “Is he close by?”

  Trin closed his eyes and Chace felt him searching for Sage through the connection of their flesh. It still felt weird, experiencing with Trin the wash of body heat from the other shifters, seeing their scent trails in vivid melon and grapefruit.

  “Grapefruit?” Trin clutched his forehead. “What the fuck, that’s a colour?”

  “You picked that up?” God, his head hurt. They’d…blended. “I’m an artist. I don’t do beige.” Then he whispered, “I caught something. For a moment I thought…but he’s gone. Sage is gone.”

  “Yeah, he’s gone.” Trin wrapped his arms around himself. “The night they took him, I woke to find the furniture shot to shit in our cabin. They’d broken the lamps, stolen what little we had. They didn’t take the TV, maybe ‘cause it was broken. I kept promising Sage I’d—”

  “Tell me.” He didn’t care about the other shifters now or the goddamn mating ceremony. That was for show. This was the real thing.

  “He couldn’t watch his favourite reruns of Star Trek: the Next Generation. Sage begged me and begged me to take it in to get it fixed but I was always getting a call, going out to visit a sick patient in our pack.” Trin swallowed. “I picked up the TV and I threw it through the window.”

  “You would have kept your promise.”

  “Yeah.” Trin’s nose was running. He blinked, swiped his hand over his cheek then looked at his tears as if he didn’t know what they were. “Searched the woods for Sage…days, nights, I lost track. Only a few adults in our pack had survived. All the children… They were gone. I couldn’t help anyone, Chace. I couldn’t help. I couldn’t find my son.”