The Pack or the Panther

by Tara Lain

  Paris swung off his lap, pulling Cole’s now very relaxed cock out of him. Cole felt cold without that warm body next to his.

  The cat gathered clothes from the ground and various branches and started dressing. “I hate to think about you having to fight. You should be a lover, not a fighter.” He winked a golden eye.

  Hard to tell when the cat was sincere and when he was kidding. Cole picked up his trousers and briefs and pulled them on. “I’m probably better at fighting.”

  Paris stood up straight and stared at Cole. “Then you must be one hell of a fighter.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cole pulled his car up in front of the Marketos’ stately mansion. “My folks are here. That’s their car.” He nodded to the black town car.

  Paris raised an eyebrow. “Word of Analiese’s defection has clearly reached all quarters. Maybe you should come in.”

  “Yeah. They may want my opinion.”

  Paris raised an eyebrow. “They certainly won’t want mine. I think I’ll go in through the kitchen and head for my room.” He leaned across the console. “Thank you, Puppy. I may joke, but this was one of the best nights ever.”

  Cole leaned in and gently pecked those soft lips. “For me too. When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow, I guess. No reason to stay. I can go back to work.”

  He kissed him again, more deeply. “I’ll miss seeing you.”

  “I’ll miss fucking you.” Paris laughed. “I never miss people.”

  A little pain in the heart. Get over it. Cole smiled. “Okay, cat. Be alone, but remember how great my cock felt in your ass.”

  Paris shifted elaborately to one ass cheek. “That’s not something I’m likely to forget for quite a while.”

  They both laughed. So maybe Cole’s was a little forced, but he couldn’t make the guy give a damn.

  “Good night, Puppy. Stay safe, okay?” Paris opened the car door, slipped out on little cat feet, and melted into the trees at the side of the house. Even Cole’s night vision couldn’t keep track of him.

  What an amazing experience. Maybe this was the best night he’d ever have in his life. That made him kind of sad. But hell, if it was his best night, at least it was amazing.

  He got out of the car and walked from the circular drive up the long path to the Marketos’ front door.

  Chapter Eight

  Cole knocked. The big double door was carved teak. Beautiful. He’d seen it from a distance once or twice, but werewolves stayed out of each other’s territory unless invited. Even the friendly ones.

  One side of the door opened and a big werewolf stood there. He was dressed like a butler but smelled like an enforcer.

  Cole nodded. “I’m, uh, Cole Harker. I thought my parents might want to see me.”

  The butler stepped aside. “Come in, sir.” He had the butler stuff down. “Please wait here and I’ll see if Mr. and Mrs. Marketo are expecting you.”

  “Uh, not expecting—” But he was gone.

  Cole walked over to the central table in the large entry hall. Beautiful tropical flowers spilled out of a vase. The walls above him were decorated with formal portraits of people. Werewolves, likely, but no telling without smell. The place was altogether more formal than the Harkers’ big friendly house with its door always open to any wolf who wanted to chat or have a bite to eat. Still, it was nice.

  The wolf butler came back in. “They would like to see you, sir. Follow me, please.”

  They walked past what was clearly a formal living room and down a hall to a closed door. The butler opened it and stepped aside. “Right in here.”

  Cole walked in and the door closed behind him. He was in a big office, or maybe they’d call it a study. Marketo leaned back in a leather chair behind a huge wooden desk. Cole’s parents sat opposite in upholstered guest chairs. Trixie seemed only barely part of the action. She’d settled on a banquette by the windows and held her knitting.

  Marketo practically leaped out of his chair and rushed to Cole with his hand extended. “I’m so very sorry, Cole. This is the most terrible breach of contract, to say nothing of a shocking disregard for all our family’s values and traditions.”

  Cole took his hand. Yeah, it was pretty bad by werewolf standards. “I didn’t know when I signed the contract that Analiese was in love with someone else. I wouldn’t have agreed.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t take her statements of affection seriously. She’s had other crushes, and I thought this was just one more.”

  Trixie made a little snort. Apparently, Mama had known otherwise.

  Landon pointed toward a third guest chair they must have dragged from the conference table. “Sit, Cole. How did you know we were here?”

  He sat. “I didn’t. I brought, uh, Paris home and saw your car.”

  “Paris?”

  “Yes, he drove to the party with another member of the pack and needed a ride.” God, he hoped his face wasn’t too red.

  Marketo sat back in his desk chair. “Where’s Paris now?”

  “He said he was tired and going to his room.”

  Landon looked up at Marketo, then over at Crystal. What the hell was up?

  He waited.

  Marketo leaned forward. “Shall I ask him to come down?”

  Landon looked at Crystal and she shook her head.

  Cole took a breath. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

  Crystal sprang out of her chair and paced to the fireplace on the side wall. “Haven’t we learned our lesson? Can’t we just sign an alliance pact without blood?”

  Marketo frowned. “We need both packs to respect him and follow him. He’s got to be bound. And he’s got to sacrifice.”

  She threw up her hand. “He already did.”

  What the hell was happening?

  “Yes, and they were willing to lay down their lives for him. But without binding, they’ll forget.”

  Crystal shook a finger at him. “It’s a constant reminder that he’s not like them.”

  Marketo frowned. “Blood is blood.”

  Cole put up his hand. “Excuse me! But what the hell are you talking about?”

  Marketo hit a button on his desk and the butler opened the door instantly. “Yes, sir.”

  “Ask Paris to come down here right away, please.”

  Cole looked from face to face. “Will someone please tell me?”

  Marketo nodded. “Soon.”

  Silence. Except for the sound of knitting needles.

  Crystal burst across the room in five steps and ended up next to Trixie. “Do you agree with this?”

  The pretty little blonde looked up almost serenely. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t do it.”

  Marketo stood up and slapped the desk. “Yes, he will. Dammit, female. You’ll help.”

  Crystal bared her teeth at the man. His eyes widened. You didn’t mess with Crystal Harker.

  Shit, this was crazy-making. “What is it, Mom? Tell me.”

  She turned to him—and the door opened.

  Be still my heart. Paris Marketo in a tailored suit was heart-stopping, but in tight jeans and a slouchy white sweater he could have starred in an A&F ad. Damn, the cock effect. Cole straightened his jacket.

  Paris looked around the room questioningly. His eyes met Cole’s, and he glanced up as if to ask What the hell is going on? Cole shrugged.

  Marketo nodded to his son. “Thank you for coming, Paris. Grab a chair.”

  He walked over to the round table and pulled a chair over beside Cole.

  The sweet, acrid, ridiculously sexy cat perfume hit Cole like smelling salts. Hell, maybe they all knew he and Paris had fucked. Could that be what this was about? He wanted to reach over and touch Paris. Not a good idea.

  Marketo walked out from behind his desk. He cleared his throat and looked very nervous. This smelled bad. Literally.

  Marketo nodded toward Paris and Cole. “You both know the fix that my daughter has left us in.”

  Paris frow
ned. “Forgive me, sir, but it was a dumb idea to begin with.”

  Marketo stopped his pacing and stared at his son. Their eyes locked. “Be that as it may, we are now in a crisis. We set up the packs for an alliance sealed with blood by marriage. The papers were signed and we are in default.”

  Cole shook his head. “There’s potential breach of promise, but the agreement isn’t finalized until the marriage takes place.”

  Landon stood up and walked over beside Marketo, facing Cole and Paris. “Let me lay it out for you. Harker is in danger from Eliazer Pack. We all know that. The alliance may discourage Eliazer, but no guarantees. Without the alliance, we’re sitting wolves.” He smiled at his own joke, but it was grim. “And if Eliazer beats Harker, he’ll go after Marketo. Take us down one at a time. We must have the alliance.”

  He picked up a crystal globe from the desk and turned it in his hands. “If war comes, Cole has to lead and the pack has to follow. Merced and I agree that Cole is the best tactician we have. His instincts and his senses are unmatchable. A lot of the Marketo enforcers are great fighters, but Cole is the general. Along with the two of us.” He took a deep breath. “But he’s gay.”

  Cole glanced up. “I thought there was no such thing as a gay werewolf.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand. “Unfortunately, our werewolves—most werewolves—have never been taught to respect or accept different sexual preferences.”

  Paris frowned. “Whose fault is that?”

  Marketo spread his hands. “Whatever may be true, I don’t want energy wasted on werewolves fighting for dominance between our packs. You need to be Pack Marketo, Cole.”

  What the fuck. He leaned forward. “I seem to recall trying that and it didn’t work so damned well. Have you got some other female I can marry?”

  “It won’t work if it’s not alpha blood, you know that. Plus, there’s a signed contract.”

  Okay, enough. “So what do you want me to do? Track her down and bring her back over my shoulder? Because I won’t do it. I won’t.” He pointed at Marketo. “You should have known more about your daughter.” He switched to his father. “And you shouldn’t have been in such a damned hurry to pawn me off.”

  Paris shifted in his seat. “And may I ask why it was so important that I witness this Monday morning quarterbacking event? I’m tired and would like to sleep.”

  Landon took a big breath and looked at Marketo.

  Crystal made a whimpering sound.

  Marketo faced Paris. “Because we want you to marry Cole.”

  Stunned. Silence.

  Paris leaped up. “What the fuck? You can’t rope me into your wolf politics.”

  Landon sounded placating and reasonable. “Same-sex marriage is legal in Connecticut and most of the surrounding states. We can get an official to conduct the marriage tomorrow with no problem.”

  Paris’s gold eyes widened. “I don’t care if it’s going to be conducted by the fucking queen, I’m not getting married.”

  Marketo put out his hand. “Paris, it’s perfect. The contract will even stand. Analiese signed it A. P. Marketo.”

  Paris stared. Cole looked from face to face. “What does that mean?”

  Marketo glanced at him. “Paris’s first name is Anthony. He’s also A. P. Marketo.”

  Paris hissed, “Did you plan this? Did you ask her to sign that way?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Paris waved his arms. That voice wasn’t silky anymore. “You already said your wolves hate gays. They would hate this marriage double.”

  Landon stepped forward. “No, don’t you see? If it’s for the alliance, they’ll accept it.”

  Marketo nodded. “And then they will accept you. You could be a part of the pack.” He smiled.

  Cole cringed. If ever there was a wrong thing to say.

  Paris’s mouth fell open. “Accept me? Are you mad? I’ve spent my life trying to get away from werewolves, and you want your pack to accept me?”

  “It works well. It was an accident, but a fortunate one.”

  The cat practically bounced off the walls. “Fortunate! Fortunate for whom, wolf? You can take your contract, your war, and your fucking alliance and”—he slapped the wall hard—“and shift it.”

  Well, hell! Cole stood up. “Wait. You said you wanted the alliance. That your parents are important to you. That—” Shit! He bit his tongue.

  Paris stared at him, wide-eyed. “Sure. For them. For you. I know what pack does. It kills you young, just like my mother. Count. Me. Out.”

  He ran to the door, ripped it open, and slammed it behind him as hard as that lean, all-muscle body could muster.

  Marketo looked shell-shocked. “Don’t worry. Trixie and I will talk to him. He’ll come around. I’ve never asked anything of him before. He’ll go through with it.”

  Cole stared at the closed door. Could he even breathe? He rose slowly.

  His father reached for him. “Cole—”

  Cole shook off his hand. “Go through with it. Yes. Apparently marrying me is the worst possible thing any Marketo would ever have to do.” He took two steps toward the door and stopped. He didn’t turn around. “I’ve lived my whole life for the pack. Denying who and what I am so as not to upset any fucking wolf—excuse me, Mother. I agreed to cancel my life to make this alliance happen.” He took a deep breath. “I think the amazing thing is not that I’d do it.” He raised his head and looked back at his father. “The amazing thing is that you’d ask me to.” He walked out the door.

  * * *

  Nikel Eliazer held the gun to the wolf’s head. He looked over at the guy’s companion on his knees between two of the Eliazer enforcers. “You I’m letting go. Tell your pack not to anger me.” He pulled the trigger. Brains splattered across the warehouse floor. In the opposite direction, of course. He loved this suit. He nodded at his males. “Take him back to his pack territory and let him go.” He looked around as a wolf dragged out the body and two enforcers escorted the terrified pack member beside him. “So what’s next?”

  He pulled off his gloves and walked over to the table on the other side of the big, open room. He didn’t mind staying in here for his next audience. The smell of blood turned him on, and he loved being excited.

  His second stepped up. “The two human investigators.”

  Nikel nodded. Good, his favorite subject. He sat at a folding table.

  The sliding metal door opened and one of his wolves escorted the two humans in. They always looked nervous around him. Appropriate. What were their names? Didn’t matter.

  He showed some teeth. “So, how is my boy? More particularly, where is my boy?”

  Human One cleared his throat. “He’s in Connecticut, sir. Or at least he was when we left.”

  “Why?”

  Number Two took his turn. “It appears to be a contract for dancing.”

  “Dancing? Where would he dance in Connecticut?” Not exactly a hotbed of erotic expression.

  Human One looked at a notebook. “A club called the Way Station.”

  Odd. Very close to Harker territory. “I know that club. It’s nothing special. Why would my boy be interested in a place like that?”

  “Uh, it appears he danced at some kind of wedding thing. A, uh, bachelorette party or something. Some big wealthy families.”

  “Ah. Yes, I suppose someone like that could afford his fees. Whose wedding was it?”

  “We couldn’t tell too much. There weren’t any signs or programs or anything, and you said we shouldn’t be too obvious.”

  Nikel waved his hand. “Yes, yes. All right.”

  “But we did hear some guy say Marketo. That might be it.”

  Well, shit. Interesting. Marketo had a daughter. “I see. And you don’t know who the other family was?”

  One guy shook his head while staring at his shoes. Silly human coward.

  “And where is my boy now?”

  Human Two ducked his head. “Sorry sir, we lost him. He went in weari
ng his costume for dancing. We never saw him come out. There were a lot of people coming and going. Really sorry.”

  “Hmm.” The men cringed. Nikel smiled. “I appreciate your report. Extremely interesting. Please remain on call, as I may need you again.” They practically passed out from relief. It was all over their faces. “Turn in your guns for new ones. I never like anything to be traceable.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you.”

  Human One stepped a little closer and placed a photo on the table. “Here’s a shot of him going in the back door of the club.” The guy stepped back quickly.

  Nikel picked up the photo. Instant hard-on. The dancer, Anthony, stood outside a plain door. His skin appeared to be covered with black, sparkly paint. But it was all about the body. Oh God, look at those shoulders, the lean, long legs, and best of all, the bulge of his cock in the skimpy G-string. Nikel’s dick filled and lengthened. Nothing, not even brains on the floor, did it for him like this kid. This extraordinary being.

  He looked up. The humans were staring down at the floor. They probably weren’t comfortable with his lust for a male. “You’ve done well.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out his money clip, and peeled off ten hundred-dollar bills. “This is a little something extra for your special efforts.” He looked down at the photo. Oh yes, these humans knew he liked the pictures. He held the bills out and Human One walked up and accepted them.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much. We really want to do a good job for you, Mr. Eliazer.”

  “Yes, yes.” He flicked his fingers and the wolf male stepped up beside them. The humans were average size and the enforcer towered over them. Their eyes widened. Of course, they didn’t know that this six-foot-five giant was wearing pink lace underwear.

  Nikel turned away as the humans were led out.

  He’d let them live a bit longer. It was useful to have humans following Anthony. Nikel still wasn’t sure what the boy was. He smelled something like wolf. Not that Nikel’s sense of smell was all that great. Dope even did in a werewolf’s nose. And Anthony sure didn’t show any pack tendencies. Solitary, that kid. But no matter what Anthony was, it was better he not know there were wolves after him.