Cressida threw back her head and laughed, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Such confidence you have. Perhaps I should offer you the job.”
“You couldn’t afford me.”
Jono handed Sage her clothes, and she dressed with easy motions. He passed over her high heels, and only when she was fully clothed and cared for did he face Cressida.
“We’ll cross London when and how we like. We aren’t here for your territory,” he told her.
Cressida pressed both hands against Patrick’s shield, ignoring the way her skin sizzled at the touch. “You may walk London, but it will never be your home.”
Patrick wanted to stab her in the gut with his dagger for that remark, but he figured that wouldn’t go down well with the other side. He consoled himself with keeping the shield up so everyone couldn’t follow them back to their car.
“And his pardon?” Sage pressed.
“Granted,” Finley called out.
Cressida hissed, half turning to look over at her co-leader. “Fin.”
Finley wouldn’t look at her, but he had no trouble meeting Jono’s gaze. “The order we handed down when you left years ago is rescinded. No one will kill you.”
Cressida scowled, and while Finley didn’t flinch, Patrick had the distinct impression the other man wasn’t going to get through the night unscathed. Whatever was going on amongst them was worse than the relationship between Estelle and Youssef. They at least worked together for the power they craved. These two seemed willing to break each other and their pack rather than abide by pack law unless their hand was forced.
Jono and Sage turned their backs on the London god pack and returned to their side of the challenge ring. Jono wrapped an arm around Sage’s shoulders, pulling her close in a friendly hug as they walked.
Wade poked at the mageglobe hovering near Patrick’s shoulder, unburned and unbothered by the magic. “Are we done?”
“We’re done,” Jono said. “Let’s be off. Wade, stop touching his magic.”
Wade pulled his finger back just enough to be clear of the glow. “I’m not touching it.”
Sage smacked him lightly on the arm as they came within reach. “Get to the car.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
Patrick let everyone else go ahead of him before taking up the rearguard position. He didn’t want to turn his back on Cressida, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of looking over his shoulder at her.
Despite the warm summer night, Patrick felt chilled down to the bone, and he couldn’t blame it on the anchors burned into his skeleton by Persephone’s hand.
That chill of winter in the midst of summer came from something straight out of hell.
Patrick didn’t drop the shield he’d constructed around the challenge ring until they were in the car, engine running hot, with the country house shrinking in the rearview mirror. Only then did he distantly recall his magic, feeling the power seep back into his soul when they were already on the road.
“Could’ve gone worse,” Jono said, staring straight ahead.
“Next time, let Sage have the kill,” Patrick said.
Jono’s mouth twisted, but it was telling he didn’t argue.
“You’re still mad.”
Patrick looked up from undoing the straps that secured his dagger to his thigh. Jono sat on the bed, undoing the laces on his Chukka boots before toeing them off. Patrick pulled his dagger, sheath and all, free of his belt and thigh to set it on the small glass table beside the bed.
“What gave you that idea?” Patrick asked.
“I know when you’re angry, even if I can’t smell you. Is this about the fight or Bryson?”
Patrick made a face at the asshole’s name. “What do you think?”
Jono rested his elbows on his knees, watching Patrick with unblinking eyes. “Pat. Drop your shields.”
A small part of him didn’t want to, because even now Patrick struggled with opening up to people. Jono had taught him over the past year that leaning on someone else wasn’t a bad thing. Patrick had kept too many secrets over the course of his life because he had to. He’d learned never to keep the truth from Jono, because things always ended badly when he tried, and that meant he dropped his shields.
Jono drew in a breath, taking in Patrick’s scent and whatever truth he could pull from it. Patrick would never know how to read someone like that since he couldn’t get infected by the werevirus. Time was he’d have hated being read and known and understood in such a base way. But this was Jono, the man he’d faced down hell for, had killed for. The person he was learning to live for.
It never felt like giving in, more like shoring each other up.
Patrick went to Jono, crawling onto his lap and hooking one arm over his shoulder. He framed Jono’s face with his other hand, staring into those eyes that were out of place in New York but looked like they belonged in London.
“Just tell me he didn’t mean anything to you,” Patrick said.
It was stupid, he knew, to be jealous of someone he’d never met or known about until now. But he hadn’t liked how Bryson had looked at Jono, at the familiarity he attempted to impose. Jono wasn’t Bryson’s, and the sooner that asshole understood that, the less homicidal Patrick might feel.
Or not.
Jono’s hands curved over his ass, tugging him closer. Patrick shifted his weight, letting himself be manhandled until there was barely an inch of space between their chests.
“I told you, love. He doesn’t mean anything to me. Not how you think. He never did,” Jono said in a deep, low voice that went straight to Patrick’s cock.
“You never told me about him.”
They’d talked about past relationships last summer, when they’d gotten to know each other more after the mess surrounding summer solstice. Patrick hadn’t had any to disclose, and Jono’s handful had happened when he was younger. Patrick was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t asked about fuck buddies.
Jono turned his head briefly to press a kiss to Patrick’s palm. “There was nothing to tell.”
Patrick stroked his hand over Jono’s cheek, feeling the faint scratch of a beard beginning to come up. “You were friends.”
“Back then, yeah, and we shagged. It doesn’t mean we’re anything close to being mates right now because of it. He had a pack when we lived in London, and I didn’t.” Jono leaned closer, lips brushing over Patrick’s. “You’re my pack. You’re all I need.”
Patrick opened his mouth, drawing Jono in like air, needing him like a heartbeat. He’d get over the jealousy—he would—but right now all Patrick wanted to do was mark Jono in such a way that Bryson and anyone else would know Jono was his. That they were each other’s, and that would never change, no matter what piece of ass walked on by trying to catch Jono’s eye.
Jono laughed against his mouth, whatever he was smelling coming off Patrick amusing him. Patrick bit Jono’s bottom lip in retaliation, but it didn’t stop him from laughing. Jono squeezed his ass with strong fingers.
Patrick pulled back, breathing a little heavily, jeans starting to get a little tight. “Get on the bed.”
“I am on the bed,” Jono said with a wicked smile.
Patrick rolled his eyes before sliding off Jono’s lap. “Lie down on it.”
Jono trailed his hand up Patrick’s inner thigh to cup his cock through his jeans. The way his fingers moved had Patrick rocking into the touch. “Bossy tonight, aren’t you?”
Patrick shoved at Jono’s shoulder. “Get on the bed so I can ride you, or I’ll go take a shower. Alone.”
Jono smirked at him, and the way his eyes darkened told Patrick showering alone wasn’t ever going to be an option. “Lube’s in my luggage.”
Patrick pushed him again, and Jono let himself fall back on his elbows. “Bed.”
Jono laughed, the sound ringing through the hotel room, the same way it rang through their bedroom back home. Sex for Patrick used to be quick fucks while on leave—fast and meaningless and hid
den in the dark so his scars wouldn’t show. With Jono there was always laughter, and Patrick hadn’t known what he was missing until Jono showed him.
Jono got out of his clothes before Patrick located the bottle of lube. He tossed it at Jono’s head, but it never found its target. Jono caught it with a smirk before he uncapped it and proceeded to put on a show for Patrick. The way he stroked his cock while never looking away from Patrick was positively illegal.
“If you’re getting yourself ready, you might as well do the same for me,” Patrick said once he was naked and crawling back onto Jono’s lap.
Jono pulled him in for a kiss, slick fingers sliding over Patrick’s ass. “I’ll give you whatever you need, Pat.”
Patrick shivered, less from the finger sliding inside him than from the heavy promise in Jono’s words. Because need was different than want, and Jono seemed to have some sixth sense when it came to Patrick.
He rolled his hips down onto Jono’s finger, the stretch in his body a slight burn. Jono stroked their cocks together using his other hand, and the slow friction was enough to drive Patrick mad. He gripped Jono’s shoulders, digging his fingers into warm skin. He was always so much warmer than Patrick, and even though Patrick would never be able to smell him and the pack scent that lingered between them, the warmth of his body was a comfort.
Jono was a comfort he never wanted to give up.
A second finger slid inside him as Jono kissed a line down Patrick’s throat to his collarbone, nipping at the threads of scar tissue there. The damaged skin and nerves on his chest were an ugly reminder of his childhood that Jono soothed with lips and tongue as Patrick rode his fingers.
“Only person I want is you,” Jono murmured as he pressed his thumb teasingly beneath the head of Patrick’s cock.
Patrick’s breath stuttered from the touch and the way his nerves were set on fire. He chased after Jono’s mouth, undulating between Jono’s warm touch, always wanting more. Jono never stopped touching him, and Patrick could feel the soulbond humming between them, a barrier and balm to the damage already present in Patrick’s soul.
He pulled at Jono’s shoulders, dragging his lips over the curve of Jono’s jaw as he yanked a pillow out from behind Jono. He tossed it aside, giving Jono more room to lie back. Patrick lifted off Jono’s fingers and grabbed the lube, shoving Jono down into the position he preferred. Jono sank against the last two remaining pillows, lifting one arm to tuck a hand behind his head. He stroked slick fingers over Patrick’s hip, watching him with half-lidded eyes.
“Need help?” Jono asked with a smirk.
Patrick moved forward on his knees and reached around to grab Jono’s cock. “Does it look like I need your help?”
Jono’s grip tightened as Patrick sank onto his cock with steady rolls of his hips. The pressure of being filled made Patrick swallow hard as he opened up on that cock, sinking lower. The way Jono’s pupils dilated, how he licked his lips and never looked away made Patrick groan when he finally bottomed out.
“Fuck,” Jono growled, thrusting up lightly and forcing Patrick to move.
The slide of Jono’s cock deep inside him had Patrick digging his fingernails into the skin over Jono’s chest. He used Jono to brace himself as he rose up on his knees before sinking back down, shivering at the thick fullness inside him.
Patrick fucked himself on Jono’s cock at whatever pace he wanted. Jono met him halfway, thrusting up into him with a focused intensity that made Patrick moan. The only sound between them was their breathing and the steady slap of skin on skin as Patrick chased his release. When Jono wrapped his hand around Patrick’s cock and started to jerk him off, Patrick tossed his head back, mouth falling open on a stuttering gasp.
“Jono,” he bit out, cock throbbing, the burn in his thighs an ache he didn’t mind.
Jono moved his hand to grab Patrick’s ass, hauling him up higher on his knees. Jono moved beneath him, and Patrick had to use both hands to brace himself on Jono’s chest. Then Jono got his feet underneath him and started fucking Patrick in earnest. The whine that fell unbidden from Patrick’s mouth only spurred him on faster.
The bed creaked beneath them, and Patrick tried to meet each hard thrust halfway. He bent his elbows, leaning down to kiss Jono on the mouth, only to miss as his body shook through a particularly deep thrust.
He bit at the edge of Jono’s jaw, moaning loudly as Jono fucked him with a single-minded intensity Patrick would never complain about.
“Come on, fuck me harder,” Patrick got out against Jono’s skin. “Fuck me like you mean it. Like I’m yours.”
Jono let out a growl that vibrated between them. Patrick swore when Jono slid out of him, but before he could protest, he was rolled onto his side as Jono moved out from underneath him. Patrick got up on his elbows, but that was as far as he got before Jono slid back inside him, pinning him face-first to the bed and fucking him so hard starbursts of light exploded on the back of his eyelids.
“This what you want?” Jono growled into his ear. “Me fucking you so everyone will know you belong to me?”
Patrick spread his knees as wide as he could and got one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself off, so close to the edge he could practically taste it. “I want them to know you’re mine. That you’re the only one who gets to fuck me like this.”
Jono swore, his fingers digging into Patrick’s hips with bruising strength he knew would leave a mark. Patrick came like that, held down and fucked nearly breathless, Jono’s cock deep inside him and the pack scent he could never smell buried in his skin.
Jono collapsed on top of Patrick, forcing his cock deeper as he came, hips grinding against his ass. Patrick could only shake through it, overwarm and refusing to move. Jono ran his hands over Patrick’s body before leaning down to leave a lingering kiss on his shoulder.
“You’re so bloody thick if you think I’ll ever look at anyone else when I have you,” Jono murmured.
Patrick clenched down on Jono’s softening cock, sighing softly. They were messy and sticky, but Patrick didn’t care, not when Jono was tracing promises into his skin with warm fingers.
10
A loud knock on their hotel room door had Jono opening it after Patrick dropped his wards and indicated it was okay. Wade wrinkled his nose in greeting, then held up a stolen bottle of air freshener.
“I came prepared,” Wade said, brandishing the bottle at him.
Jono rolled his eyes. “Don’t be rude to housekeeping. Put that back where you found it.”
“I need it more than they do right now.”
“You spray our room, I’m dumping all your snacks in the trash,” Patrick threatened as he finished knotting his tie.
Wade gasped loudly before narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
Jono snagged the bottle of air freshener from him. “Where’s Sage?”
“We were gonna wait for you guys downstairs, but she sent me back up because there’s an asshole waiting for you.”
Jono tossed the bottle of air freshener into the hotel room, not caring where it landed. “Who?”
“That Bryson guy.”
Patrick swore and went to grab his suit jacket from the wardrobe. “What the fuck does he want now?”
“Uh, breakfast? Like me? Sage said our table is ready, and I’m hungry.”
Patrick looked fit to murder someone, but he didn’t raise his shields. Jono could still smell him—the underlying bitterness that was Patrick’s own scent, along with the scent of them together and the pack on its own. The mix was better than any cologne on the market as far as Jono was concerned.
“Let’s go,” Patrick ordered.
Jono let him leave first, enjoying the view of Patrick from behind. The suit was decently tailored and fit him well, and it wasn’t every day Jono got to see him clean up nice. Jono figured Nadine probably had a hand in it at some point since it was reasonably on trend.
He let the door close and latch behind him before hurrying after Patrick an
d Wade. They took the lift down, exiting into the lobby. Sage stood near one of the chaise lounges, dressed casually, with a tote bag on her shoulder. Bryson stood a meter away from her, hands at his sides, not showing throat but not looking like he wanted to fight.
They strode across the lobby, and Jono watched as Bryson turned his head to look at them, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Beyond the hotel’s sliding glass front doors, it looked as if the sun from yesterday had been swallowed by clouds.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t knock your ass into the street?” Patrick demanded in a low voice once they got within arm’s reach, mindful of the front desk workers nearby.
“Because it would go against pass-through rights when I’m not here to fight,” Bryson drawled. He sniffed unsubtly, jaw twitching a little from whatever he was picking up from Patrick.
“Your attitude leaves much to be desired. How many of you have been ordered to spy on us?” Sage said.
Bryson’s mouth twisted a little before he shook his head. “I came by for a chat and to check up on you lot.”
“You mean you came to spy.”
Bryson shrugged expansively, the smile on his face brittle. “Are you surprised? You left an impression.”
“We could leave another one,” Patrick said, one hand in a fist.
Bryson didn’t snap back with an insult this time, and Jono wondered if it was because he knew what Patrick was now. Jono caught Sage’s eye and jerked his head in the direction of the restaurant where breakfast was being served.
“Think they’ll up our table from four to five?” Jono asked.
Sage nodded. “They’ll do whatever I ask.”
“Then let’s eat.”
“Yes,” Wade said feelingly, already walking away. “Because I’m starving and I wanna try a full English breakfast.”
Sage followed after him, but Patrick didn’t move, staring Bryson down. Jono nudged him in the side to get Patrick walking before gesturing at Bryson. “Come on. Breakfast is on us.”
“He can pay his own way,” Patrick muttered.
“Be nice, Pat.”
On the Wings of War (Soulbound Book 5) Page 12
