by Lynn Hagen
Lucky him, Renato’s hadn’t. He’d felt the loss, the pain, the torture of being alone. The only emotions that had bled away from him were joy, happiness, and anything that would make a normal man smile.
For the past decade he’d gone to The Manacle—a nightclub run by vampires in the city—where he visited the back rooms, rooms that catered to the BDSM crowd. Renato paid to be whipped, hoping that the lashes would somehow help him feel again. They never did, but the lashes were also a way of punishing himself for allowing his zaterio to die, for allowing his mate to be harmed in the first place. Hell, Renato had never laid eyes on the human, but that made no difference. The loss was still profound.
A few times Renato had tried to end it all, had tried to take his own life, but Nazaryth had always known, had felt Renato’s life bleeding out of him and had stopped him from dying. His arms bore the scars of his attempts, and his back bore the scars of the whip. But it was his soul that bore the deepest, ugliest scar of all, and Renato lived in constant pain, in constant depression over his loss.
“Ready to hit the road?” Trigg asked as he entered the hangar. “Nazaryth got a call from Maverick. Something is going on in Brac Village. Hounds are showing up, gathering in numbers for some weird reason, and the alpha wolf could use all the help he can get.”
With a nod, Renato mounted his bike and took off, leaving the castle in his rearview.
Chapter Three
Renato glanced up when the bell above the diner door jingled. In walked Dog, glancing around until he spotted them. A slight smile curved the corners of his mouth as he headed their way. His walk was cocky and arrogant, as if he had the world by the balls.
“What’re you doing here?” Trigg asked when Dog slid into the booth. “Thought you were patrolling Zeus’s town.”
Renato glanced out the large glass window as Dog stole one of Trigg’s fries. Renato didn’t want to be there, but he didn’t want to be at home either. He rested an elbow on the table as he ran a finger over his brow, hating the feeling of not belonging anywhere.
“I’m off duty now,” Dog said as he stole another fry.
After pounding the pavement in Brac Village all day, Renato and Trigg had run across three hounds. Renato thought they’d find more since, according to the alpha, the town was being overrun, but they hadn’t. Either the alpha was smoking something or the hounds were keeping their presence hidden.
“Met this hot little number at The Lucky Clover last night,” Dog said as Renato waited for Trigg to eat up so they could finish their sweep of the town. “Meetin’ up with him again tonight.”
“Wish I had a date,” Trigg grumbled before he took a drink of his soda. “This dry spell is killing me.”
“You should come with me,” Dog offered. “He’s got a friend.”
One of Trigg’s brows rose. “Good-looking friend?”
“Fuck yeah.”
The last thing Renato wanted to do was sit there and listen to the two talk about hooking up. He pushed from the booth and decided to settle the bill. Anything to get him away from his brethren making plans.
“How was everything?” Keata asked as he gave Renato a smile. “Sorry the service was a bit slow, had two of our waiters call off today.”
“Everything was fine,” Renato said, although he hadn’t ordered anything to eat.
Keata reached across the counter and placed his small hand over Renato’s large one, giving Renato a sweet smile. “How are you doing?”
Everyone knew about Renato’s dead zaterio. He usually barked and snarled at anyone who pried into his personal life, but Keata was different. The cat shifter reminded Renato of a little kitten bumping his head into a leg for attention. There was no way he could snarl at the guy.
That and the fact that Keata’s mate owned the diner. Cody would try to rip Renato a new ass if he snapped at the man.
“Doin’ good.” He handed over the money and then hastily shoved his wallet into his back pocket. He needed to get out of there. The sympathetic look Keata gave him made Renato’s gut twist. He hated pity, and the little cat shifter was giving it to him in spades. His expression said he was thankful that he wasn’t Renato.
Renato wished he wasn’t Renato. He wouldn’t wish this kind of life on anyone. Cold, desolate, and lonely. It wasn’t a way to live, but it was his life, and there wasn’t anything Renato could do to change it.
With a nod, Keata rang him out. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
It was the same song and dance he went through with Keata every time Renato visited the diner. He appreciated the man’s concern, but there was nothing Keata could do to help him. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. “Thanks.”
When he passed the table where Trigg and Dog still sat, Renato said, “I’ll meet you outside.”
Trigg gave a nod that he’d heard Renato but kept talking with Dog. When Renato walked outside, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called the phone number he knew by heart.
“What time?” the man on the other end asked. Crow never went into details or asked any questions except for what time Renato wanted to book a whipping session with him.
“Midnight.”
“See you then.” Crow hung up.
Renato rubbed his chest. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, ever since he’d driven into Brac Village this morning, he felt…odd. There was unrest inside of him, an ache in his chest that wouldn’t let up. It was different from the depression and loss he’d felt for so many years. He couldn’t quite explain the feeling, and that bothered him. Renato knew every emotion that had gripped him over the past two decades, and whatever he was feeling was new.
He started down the street, leaving Trigg to talk with Dog. If the town was truly hiding a horde of hellhounds, Renato shouldn’t be wandering around by himself. He was good, but not good enough to take them on en masse.
Renato wandered until he found himself standing by the police station. Something had drawn him there. And then suddenly, it was as if a stick of dynamite had ignited in his gut. An explosion of sweat broke out over his body, and his dick became so hard it was painful. Renato closed his eyes and tried to force his body back under control.
Heat cascaded through him, making him feel as if he’d been submerged in gasoline and set on fire. Renato tried to breathe, but his chest had become too tight, and his lungs didn’t seem to want to work properly.
The slight breeze did nothing to cool his heated skin. Dropping his hand to his crotch, Renato gave it a tight tug. He was so horny he thought he’d lose his mind if he didn’t get some ass soon.
His libido hadn’t been the same since he’d discovered his zaterio had been killed. Since then, hand jobs and one-night stands were all he’d ever indulged in. He hadn’t felt this worked up in a very long time, and the thought of fucking someone into unconsciousness had him ready to hunt the source down.
“Okay, that was more than I needed to see.”
Renato turned to see Trigg and Dog standing behind him. He hadn’t even seen them following him. Dog’s gaze dropped to Renato’s hand.
Renato made the jerking motion with his hand and then splayed his fingers as if he’d come right there on the spot.
Dog crinkled his nose. “Yeah, aiight. Be disgusting, prick.”
“Then stop staring at my damn hand.” Renato glanced around. He felt agitated and restless, horny and aggressive. He stood there sweating his ass off as his body tightened even further.
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?” Trigg stared at him as if Renato had sprouted two heads. “Why you all red and sweaty?”
Renato rolled his shoulders and listened to his vertebra crack. Tension began to build inside of him, and he felt his gums aching, and then his fangs slid free. A thought occurred to him, but the idea was impossible.
There should be no way he was going through the mating heat.
Had fate given him another chance with another guy? Renato didn’t see how that was po
ssible. A winged beast was gifted with only one chosen mate. There were no second chances. None that he’d heard of anyway.
And if he had been given another chance, where the hell was the guy? It was only Renato, Trigg, and Dog on the street, and he knew for a fact neither one of them was his mate.
Renato needed to figure out why something was pulling him in this direction. He needed to figure out why his body was reacting this way. But mostly, he needed. The heat wasn’t letting up, and Renato had to either find out what the hell was going on or fuck his way through Brac Village until the fire licking its way through his body was extinguished.
“I think he’s finally gone over the edge,” Dog whispered to Trigg.
“I think we need to call Nazaryth,” Trigg whispered back. “Something is definitely going on here.”
With his lips pinched together, Renato stared up at the sky. He scrubbed a hand over his face before letting out a deep, frustrating sigh. If the two didn’t shut up, he would throttle them both.
“Do you think you’re finally going crazy?” Dog asked. When Renato glared at his friend, Dog’s brows shot up, and he waved his hands back and forth. “What? We all thought it a miracle that you didn’t lose your ever-loving mind back then. Now you’re standing here looking like you’re about to attack someone. Not to mention your damn wings are fluttering. What the fuck, man?”
“Leave him alone,” Trigg snapped. “You want him to flip out right here on the street?”
“He’s already flipping out.” Dog pointed to Renato. “Don’t you see that?”
“I’m calling Nazaryth.” Trigg whipped out his phone and dialed, giving Renato and Dog his back.
“Stop watching me so closely, creeper,” Renato said to Dog as he rolled his shoulders again to try and dispel the tightness in his skin.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time.” Dog leaned against the building and crossed his arms over his chest. He continued to watch Renato, and the close scrutiny only added to Renato’s irritation. “We all have. You’ve only gotten worse over the past decade. Do you think I like watching my friend slowly wither away? Do you think I don’t know about those scars on your body?”
“Fuck off,” Renato snarled as rage began to build inside of him. “It’s none of your business what I do in my spare time.”
Pushing from the building, Dog got into Renato’s face, his nostrils flaring. “Fuck if it ain’t my business. You’re not suffering alone. We all feel your pain.”
Shoving his hands into Dog’s chest, Renato growled. “You have no clue what this pain feels like. Have you lost your zaterio? Have you lived with such anguish that your very fuckin’ soul cries out to end it all? No, you know nothing about what I go through, so shut the fuck up!”
“I might not suffer the way you do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel your pain,” Dog retorted. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give anything to take that agony away from you. We’re all concerned, Renato.”
“Keep me out of this,” Trigg said as he hung up. “I’m not about to go toe-to-toe with Renato.”
Dog glared at Trigg. “Pussy.”
“Damn right,” Trigg snapped. “Stop pushing him, Dog. Leave Renato alone.”
“That’s the damn problem.” Dog paced away from Renato. “We’ve tiptoed around him for so long, afraid he’ll flip, afraid of reminding him of what he’s lost. But damn if I’ll let him stand there and tell me we don’t suffer along with him.”
Renato had turned, ready to walk away, when he squinted at the apartment building next door. There were four guys approaching the front entrance, and although they looked ordinary, there was something about them that made the warning bells in Renato’s head go off. He jutted his chin toward the men. “Why do they seem so familiar?”
Dog cursed. “You’re definitely off your game. Those are hellhounds.”
Renato was not in the mood to chase down hellhounds, but it was his job to send as many of those nasty bastards back to hell as possible. His current dilemma would have to wait, and that didn’t sit well with him. On the other hand, as aggressive as Renato felt at the moment, beating the shit out of some hounds before he killed them was the perfect solution.
Dog and Trigg stepped over the small shrubbery that separated the police station from the building. Renato followed.
The entrance door was well lit as they stepped inside. Renato had seen the apartment building before but had never gone inside. The foyer had bright walls and cheap marble flooring. It looked fancy, but it was just a well-maintained area like any other apartment building where the owner took pride in his investment. There were mailboxes lining one wall and a panel of numbered apartments with a button to the right of each name on the opposite wall. There was also a door that led into the building.
A locked door.
Trigg pulled something from the inside of his jacket and bent at the waist. Seconds later, he had the door open. They moved quietly up the stairs, scenting each floor for the hounds. The hallways were empty, but each door they passed, Renato could hear talking, a television playing, or some held no noise at all. The air smelled of cooked food, some good and some making Renato’s nose wrinkle.
They tracked the smell of the hounds to the top floor. Renato, Trigg, and Dog sniffed at each door. If anyone was to come out of their apartment and see them, the three would look like weirdoes and probably have the cops called on them.
“In here,” Trigg mouthed as he pointed to the apartment he stood in front of.
Renato pressed his ear to the door, but the apartment was silent. He started to think that Trigg had found the wrong door when a scream shattered the silence. Kicking in the door, Renato stormed the apartment and came to a screeching halt.
Chapter Four
Morgan stared at his bandaged hand before taking another long drink from the bottle he clutched like a lifeline.
“Stop watching me so closely, creeper.”
“I’m not fucking watching you,” Morgan grumbled. The voice had been in his head all day, driving him insane. It had gotten so bad that he’d slammed his injured hand against his dresser, allowing the pain to override the voice. But that hadn’t lasted long. Not only had he reopened the wound but he’d gotten a thorough chewing out by Kyle. Today’s events only reminded Morgan of just how abnormal his life truly was.
“You need to put something on your stomach besides booze.” Kyle took a seat next to him and held out a bowl of noodles. “Try to at least eat some of it.”
Morgan waved the bowl away. “I’m not hungry.”
He hated the fact that Kyle had called off of work as well to sit with him as if Morgan needed to be on suicide watch. No matter how many times he’d told Kyle that he hadn’t intentionally hurt himself, the shifter gave him a look that said he didn’t believe him.
“Are you going to meet up with your friend?” Kyle set the bowl on the coffee table.
Frowning, Morgan shook his head. “Why would you ask me that? You told me he was dark and dangerous.”
Throwing his hands into the air, Kyle stood and faced Morgan. “Because I’m worried about you. I have no idea what to do to help you, and maybe dealing with a bad boy will help you snap out of this.”
“There’s nothing to snap out of.” Morgan took another hard swallow of the booze. “You think fuckin’ a bad boy will make the voice go away?” Morgan snorted. “Been there, tried that. Nothing works but this.” He held the bottle up and slightly shook it. The liquid sloshed around before Morgan took another drink.
“Bitch, I’m at my wit’s end with you.” Kyle pulled at his blond hair as his eyes filled with tears. “I’m watching my best friend drink himself to death, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Morgan tilted the bottle toward Kyle. “You could have a drink with me.”
He knew he’d said the wrong thing when Kyle stormed from the room and slammed his bedroom door. Morgan’s life was a wreck, but now he was making Kyle miserable. It was not something he wa
nted to do. It was a balance between shutting the voice up and keeping his best friend sane. It was a balance he hadn’t even begun to figure out.
As Morgan tilted the bottle for another drink, he heard someone at his door. The doorknob turned back and forth. Had he locked the door? Morgan couldn’t remember. If his brain wasn’t booze soaked, he probably would have been able to think more clearly.
The jiggle of the handle grew frantic. Morgan shot from the couch and started to back away, glancing around desperately for his cell phone but couldn’t remember where he’d tossed it.
It was damn ironic that they lived next door to a police station and their apartment was about to be broken into. Morgan tried to focus on what was happening, but his vision was blurred by the Captain Morgan, and as he stood there, he swayed slightly. Now would’ve been a damn good time to be sober, but it was too late for that.
The door clicked open and then slowly swung inward. Morgan dropped the bottle as four large men stepped into his apartment. The bottle clanked against the floor and rolled away, its contents spilling out as the first man to enter gave Morgan a malicious smirk.
“I don’t have anything worth stealing.” Morgan backed away, hitting the side of the couch with the back of his legs. He prayed that Kyle stayed in his bedroom. His best friend couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag. Not that Morgan was in any kind of shape to defend himself.
A soft click sounded in the quiet apartment when one of the men closed the door. The first man with cunning eyes and that nasty smirk splayed his arms, palms up. “I’m not here to rob you.”
“Then what do you want?” Morgan eased around the couch. He had nowhere to run. The only exit was blocked, and even if he made it to the kitchen or bedroom, he would be trapped. His mind raced, and his body shook as he tried to figure a way out of his apartment aside from jumping out a window. Even if he had the balls to do that, Morgan wasn’t going to leave Kyle behind. You really need to sober up if you’re thinking of jumping out of a window on the top floor.
