Dark Riders 2

Santos

Things are heating up in Paradise City. Lonnie Winston's looks can get him any

man he wants, but his sights are set on one bear of a man named Santos Alverez. The guy is
pushy, difficult, and makes Lonnie want to pulverize the brute. So why is Santos the only
person who heats Lonnie's blood with a craving that is driving him insane?

Santos thinks Lonnie is a loudmouth, pain in the ass. He is the only man who can

push Santos's buttons, sending him into a snarly fit. Lonnie is the total opposite of what
Santos looks for in a man, and he knows that it would never work between the two of them.
They are more liable to kill each other than have a romantic relationship.

But when someone close to Santos is killed, Lonnie proves just how much he cares

when he goes after the Darlings in order to avenge Santos's pain and loss. Keeping the man
at bay is becoming harder to do when Santos realizes he is falling hard for the tattoo artist
who is quickly becoming his entire world.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary, Paranormal,

Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 37,079 words

SANTOS

Dark Riders 2

Lynn Hagen

EVERLASTING CLASSIC

MANLOVE

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove

SANTOS

First E-book Publication: September 2013

Cover design by Emma Nicole

All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or

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Table of Contents

Title Page Copyright Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter
Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen About the Author

SANTOS

Dark Riders 2

LYNN HAGEN

Copyright © 2013

Chapter One

I’ll charge you ninety bucks, Lonnie said to the stranger standing at the counter as

he leaned on the glass display case with both arms. His blond dreads slipped over one slim,
latte-colored shoulder to spill on the counter in front of him. “That’s a fair price.”

Santos grunted as he pressed his back into the wall, turning his head to stare out the

window of the tattoo shop, Andromeda. He could see the bar, the Dirty Hole, across the
street and wished he was over there having a drink instead of babysitting.

Santos’s gaze followed a stray dog who was sniffing at the black bags of trash

lining the curb waiting to be picked up by the trash truck. The pavement released its heat in
waves, fanning an asphalt wind over the street in the form of dry vapor. The day was
turning out to be another hot one.

“Ninety?” the customer asked like the price was way too high.

Ninety bucks was too damn cheap in his opinion for what the customer was asking

for. Unable to keep his eyes off the tattoo artist who got on his last nerve, Santos gave his
attention to the men.

“That’s more than fair,” Lonnie stated in a syrupy-sweet tone that gave Santos a

toothache.

“Is that a special price just for me?” the man asked, a sensual invitation in his tone.

It was grating on Santos’s nerves. He was ready to toss the man out on his ass. The guy
reminded Santos of a grubby little rat that he would gladly squish with his boot.

“Depends,” Lonnie answered as he leaned a bit forward, his pale-green eyes filled

with an expression that said he was looking to get fucked. “What are we talking about as far

as special?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Santos curled his hands into fists to stop himself

from smashing the stranger’s head into the glass display case. He wasn’t sure why he was
reacting this way. He wasn’t interested in Lonnie in the least. The guy was a pain in the ass
and had a damn mouth on him. He was definitely someone Santos was not attracted to. He
was merely here babysitting the shop.

Which I wouldn’t be here if Zane knew how to show up on time.

The Dark Riders had been hanging out at Andromeda ever since their president,

Falcon, had hooked up with the co-owner, Garrett. It wasn’t a bad place to chill, but Santos
could do without the dark, suicide-inducing music.

Who in their right mind could listen to this stuff all day?

“We could meet up after your shift is over and see how special things can get.” The

stranger closed the flash book he had been looking through and gave Lonnie big, dumb,
goofy eyes. Was that supposed to be a flirtatious look? It was more like the guy had
something in his eye. Santos would gladly help the man dislodge the object…with his
claws.

“Really?” Lonnie’s tone had dropped to something light and playful, teasing and

alluring. Santos’s wolf gave a feral snarl at the way Lonnie was openly flirting with the
stranger. “You’re on.”

Sauntering around the display counter, Lonnie waved for the man to follow him to

his room where he would give the guy a tattoo. The dread-head was wearing patent leather
boots that were thigh high, the heels about three inches thick, and there were fists for
buckles running down the inseams.

Santos took a seat on the couch, and whether he wanted to or not, his eyes fell on

Lonnie’s nicely flared ass in those tight red-and-black-checkered pants that fit him like a
second skin. He was wearing a simple T-shirt today and a spiked dog collar around his neck
along with his usual spiked wristlets. The guy had slashes of deep red eyeliner running
under each pale-green eye, as well.

Growling to himself that Lonnie did not look hot as fuck, he grabbed a magazine off

the table in front of him and flipped through the pages, but he wasn’t really reading
anything. He wished the music was turned off. It was the same ear-piercing junk they
always played in this place and today it was giving him a headache.

Giving up on the magazine keeping his interest, he tossed it back on the

coffin-shaped coffee table and stared down the hallway that Lonnie had just walked down
with the man he’d said he would meet up with later.

His wolf gave a deep, vibrating snarl.

“Oh, shut the hell up.” He normally didn’t talk to his wolf out loud, but even his

beast was giving him a headache.

The door chimed—something Falcon had insisted they install—and in strode Zane,

Falcon’s twin. His long hair was loose today, his jeans faded, and he was wearing a
dark-purple dress shirt that was untucked. He dropped down next to Santos, grinning at
him. “You looked pissed. What’s going on?”

Santos’s eyes flickered over to the hallway and Zane gave a low chuckle. His dark

eyes smiled as he winked. “Why don’t you just fuck him and get it over with?”

His wolf whimpered in agreement.

Settling deeper into the couch, Santos let out a grunt. “Because I don’t want to have

sex with him.”

Zane’s shoulders lifted in a shrug as he cast Santos an amused look. “Too bad. He’s

definitely one hot-ass male. Very doable.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Nope, Santos wasn’t

calming down.

Both Santos and Zane jumped up when they heard a loud crash coming from down

the hallway. Before Santos could move in that direction, the punk who’d asked Lonnie out
was racing toward them, a large, red bruise on his forehead as he made a beeline for the
front door.

Lonnie came racing down the hallway, his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he

shouted at the man hauling ass out the door. “If you come back here, I’ll feed your balls to
my piranhas!”

“What the hell is going on?” Zane cocked his head to the side.

Lonnie turned, the anger slipping into a happy smile. “Oh, hi, Zane.”

Shaking his head, Santos took a seat back on the couch and wondered why his wolf

was smiling from ear to ear, seeming very pleased that Lonnie’s fuck date had run from the
shop.

* * * *

“That idiot thought that ‘something special’ meant he could paw me in my own

room.” Lonnie brushed his hair from his shoulder, moving behind the counter in total
frustration.

He had been flirting with the jerk just to get a reaction out of Santos. But the big

lughead hadn’t said a word, hadn’t protested Lonnie making plans to get fucked by some
random guy. He wasn’t even sure why he was lusting after Santos or trying to make him
jealous.

His track record with men wasn’t stellar. Lonnie had a bad habit of picking the

wrong person every single time. That would explain his asinine yearning to be with the
Dark Rider who made his cock hard every time he was near the man.

Zane gave a low chuckle and reached across the display case, lightly slapping

Lonnie on his shoulder. “Kicked his ass, did ya?”

Adoration from the wrong person, as usual.

“And I’ll do it again if he comes back.”

Leaning a bit closer, Zane said, “If you’re looking to get laid, Santos will help you

out.”

“Hell no,” Lonnie snapped.

“Not likely,” Santos said from the couch.

Lonnie narrowed his eyes at the bald man who made him so confused it wasn’t even

funny. He’d never met anyone who infuriated him and turned him on this much before. He
always felt like there were a thousand tiny wings in his gut when Santos was close by.
“You don’t have to say it like I’m a walking disease. There are plenty of guys out there
who would love to tap this ass.”

Lonnie backed up his words with a hard slap to his backside. He got plenty of

action, even though half the time he hadn’t been looking. People always told him he had the
prettiest eyes, a nice body with just the right amount of cut, gorgeous skin, and rockin’ hair.
Rett always said that Lonnie looked exotic. He wasn’t stuck on his looks, not by a longshot.

“Do you want to go to Ruby Red tonight?” he asked Zane. If Santos wanted to be a

prick, so be it. Lonnie was not going to halt his sex life waiting on that big lughead to sleep
with him. Admittedly, Santos’s bear size was a huge turn-on and he was one hell of a
looker. But Lonnie wasn’t going to live off of wishing all those hard muscles were wrapped
around him as the man fucked him into a coma.

“Yeah, sure.” Zane reached out and flicked at one of Lonnie’s dreads. “I know

Emilio will want to go as well.”

“The more the merrier.” Lonnie flipped Santos off when the man curled his lip

back. He wasn’t sure what the guy’s problem was, but Lonnie was not going to ask. Let the
man act like a caveman. He really didn’t care.

Stop lying to yourself.

Lonnie was ready to punch his inner voice.

“Be careful of that finger,” Santos warned as he flexed his jaw, his wide shoulders

curling back. “I just might shove it up your ass and then you won’t have to worry about
getting laid.”

“Try it!” Lonnie shouted as his nostrils flared and his hands slapped down onto the

counter with a muted thud.

“Okay, boys,” Zane said with a devilish grin. “Calm down or I’m going to kick both

your asses.”

Lonnie parted his lips, ready to say something when Falcon and Rett walked into

the shop. Falcon paused and glanced at everyone in the room before his eyes settled on
Zane. “Those two at it again?”

“Like an old married couple.”

Lonnie ignored them. Screw Santos. If the man wasn’t interested, Lonnie wasn’t

going to keep wasting his time. Santos hadn’t said a word when he’d set up a fuck date in
front of the lughead. That was a big clue that Lonnie was shit out of luck when it came to
the dark and brooding man.

“We’re going to Ruby Red tonight. Want to come along?” Lonnie stopped himself

from looking over at the big oaf. He didn’t care in the least if Santos wanted to go and he
didn’t bother to ask.

“You know I’m in,” Rett replied.

Rett seemed to be in his own little world with Falcon. The man had promised

Lonnie that he wasn’t kicking him to the curb, but lately he felt like a third wheel. That
alone kept Lonnie in a pissed-off mood. They’d never acted this distant before and it made
him feel as if he was losing his best friend to this band of thugs.

They were cool and all, but he and Rett had been through a lot and there was no

way he was going to let the Dark Riders steal the man from him. Maybe he could talk to
Rett at Ruby Red and try to see what was going on in his best friend’s head.

It was worth a shot. And if that didn’t work, he could always drown the band of

thugs.

Starting with Santos.

* * * *

Santos spent the next two days avoiding the shop. He used the excuse that he had to

update the software in their security system at the cabin to get out of babysitting the tattoo

shop. He knew Falcon could see right through the lie, but the man hadn’t argued.

Knowing the other Dark Riders were already heading to the Lower East Side,

Santos took off in the opposite direction. He needed to clear his head. He hated the fact that
he was even tempted to go to Andromeda. That was the last place he needed to be.

He’d been on this earth for three hundred years and had seen plenty. Santos had

been born around the time Britain and the Dutch Republic had reached a peace agreement
to end the war with France. His family had migrated to North America when Santos was in
his late teens and his life had turned to hell.

While he and his cousin Emilio had been out one night, exploring their new world,

they’d come across Darlings. Being human, Santos had never even known they existed.
He’d underestimated them, thinking they were nothing but bullies until he and Emilio were
dying from their bites. The one who’d attacked him had tried to rip his throat out because
he had fought back.

That’s when Falcon had stepped in and saved his life and the life of his cousin.

When Santos and Emilio tried to return home—even after Falcon’s warning—Santos’s
world had changed forever. His mother had spit on him and called him the devil. Forced to
flee, Santos had spent the next one hundred years a bitter man. He’d hated Falcon with
every stolen breath he took.

But as with all wounds, his hatred had diminished over time and Santos had come to

accept what he had become. He even liked being a shifter now. What he didn’t like was the
fact that Darlings still existed.

If he could, he would wipe every single one from the face of the earth.

Parking his bike in front of his favorite record shop, Santos dismounted. He stepped

inside to the sounds of Diana Ross singing “Good Morning Heartache.” The melody was
soul stirring, but Santos preferred the Billie Holiday version much better.

“Hey, Santos.” Ernest wandered from the back room of the store. “New stuff came

in if you’re interested.”

Coming here was Santos’s one guilty pleasure. The guys ribbed him about his

choice in music, but it was in good fun. He had actually gotten Zane hooked on Louis
Armstrong. There was nothing wrong with spreading class around, even to someone who
was seven hundred years old and preferred the harder beats of today’s music.

“Whatcha got?” Santos moved over to the bargain bin, flipping through the old LPs.

He had a converter at home that helped him transfer the music on the vinyl to his iPod.
He’d have to remember to take his iPod with him the next time he sat in Andromeda.

“John Coltrane and Miles Davis.”

“Sketches of Spain?” Now Santos was very interested. He strolled across the worn

carpet, inhaling the smells of old vinyl covers and newspaper as he made his way over to
Ernest.

“Knew you would come by sooner or later, so I saved them for you.” The elderly

gentleman turned and flipped through a blue crate until he pulled the two albums out. “Here
you go.”

Santos grinned widely, his day improving already. He slid his fingers over the

worn-out cover, already hearing the melodies in his mind. The thought was fleeting, but
Santos had an urge to show Lonnie what true music was all about.

He shook his head at the idea. He and Lonnie were nothing alike and he needed to

get the man out of his mind. Lonnie preferred to walk everywhere while Santos loved
riding his Ducati. He loved jazz, blues, and even listened occasionally to reggae, while

Lonnie listened to music that should drive a person insane as their ears bled. Lonnie seemed
to accept anyone into his bed, while Santos was a little more picky—although when first
converted, he had been a true harlot, fucking any man who batted an eye at him. But he was
older now—boy, was that an understatement—and preferred less mouthy men as bed
partners.

“I had someone call in looking to sell their copy of the second song ever recorded

by Mississippi blues legend Robert Johnson.”

Santos felt his heart beating faster at the idea of owning such a rare find. “You

know he died mysteriously in 1938?”

Ernest nodded, his withered face bright with amusement. “You really know your

music, Santos. It’s rare I come across someone who appreciates the oldies.” He patted
Santos’s beefy arm with a shaky hand. “I love when you visit. But you know that if he
really does have that vinyl, it’s worth upward of twelve thousand dollars. I won’t cheat him
and I can’t afford to pay that price.”

Did Santos want to spend that kind of money? Although he was a true music

enthusiast, he wasn’t sure if he was willing to lay that kind of—hell, who was he kidding?
“Here, let me give you my number. If he comes in, call me.”

Santos gave Ernest his number and then bought the two albums the elderly

gentleman had set aside for him. With music in hand, Santos left the shop feeling in a much
better mood.

Chapter Two

Lonnie sat in a funk on the steps of Andromeda. He was thoroughly pissed at

himself. He, Garrett, and the Dark Riders—minus the big lugheaded bear—had gone to
Ruby Red’s last night and he’d had a horrible time. Well, maybe not horrible, but Lonnie
certainly didn’t have a great night either.

He found himself turning down offers of sex, which wasn’t like him. Lonnie liked

sex just as much as the next guy—okay, so his choice in guys sucked most of the time—but
last night was different. Lonnie had said no because all he could see was one big,
bald-headed man with obsidian eyes and a chip on his shoulder. Santos drove him to the
dark depths of anger and to the heated heights of attraction.

I must be an idiot for wanting a brute like Santos.

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” Rett took a seat next to Lonnie, propping his

arms on his bent knees. Lonnie started to tell the man to piss off since he didn’t have time
for him lately. But Lonnie wasn’t that childish and he missed talking to his best friend.

Lonnie rested his chin in his hands as he watched the traffic go by, his mind still

stuck on Santos. “My taste in men has gone to the dogs.”

Rett grinned as he tossed an arm over Lonnie’s shoulder, giving him a tight

squeeze. “It’s always sucked. What’s changed?”

“You know, I have no problem beating you over the head with my broom.” Lonnie

glanced around the neighborhood and felt like so much had changed, even though
everything looked the same. But things were different now. Rett had found someone that
made him truly happy, and Lonnie was lusting after someone who was so totally opposite
from what he usually was interested in that his head hurt.

“Door unlocked?” Bandit, the artist that worked there with them, asked as he neared

the two.

“Yeah,” Rett answered. Lonnie moved his body to the side as Bandit clomped up

the steps past him.

“I’m just being morose.” Lonnie stood. “Forget what I said.” He didn’t want to talk

about Santos or admit his feelings for the guy to his best friend. Why should he even waste
his time? It was very clear that Santos wasn’t interested in him so he needed to move on.

Haven’t you already said that?

“Oh, just shut the hell up.”

Rett laughed as he patted Lonnie on his shoulder. “I love when you yell at that little

voice in your head. It reminds me why we’re best friends.”

“Because you like hanging out with people who have deep-seated issues?”

Rett stopped walking up the steps, his expression somber. “No, I like hanging out

with the guy who knows me best and was there when we were both going through our
worst.”

Lonnie moved down the two steps that separated them and then hugged the man. He

laid his cheek on Rett’s shoulder. He had been feeling so out of place lately that he started
to think he was all alone. “Thanks.”

“I might be spending a lot of time with Falcon”—Rett rubbed a hand down

Lonnie’s back—“but I haven’t forgotten who my best friend is.” He followed up with a
slight tug to Lonnie’s hair. “Things will get better.”

He wished he could feel the same way. Somehow he knew that forgetting Santos

wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. How he had caught feelings for a man who was his
total opposite, Lonnie would never know. But he had, and the sting of rejection hurt like a
bitch.

“Let’s go inside.” Rett pulled back, grabbing Lonnie’s hand as he hauled him up the

steps. Lonnie frowned when he didn’t see Bandit up front. He wandered down the hallway,
seeing the guy coming out of Rett’s room.

“Was there something you needed?”

Bandit looked guilty as he shook his dark head. “I was looking for some yellow ink.

I’m all out.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Lonnie pursed his lips while cocking his head to the

side. “You know the rules, Bandit. You buy your own shit. Besides, you didn’t even ask if
you could go in there.”

“Won’t happen again.” Bandit strode toward the front of the shop. Lonnie got a

niggling feeling in the back of his mind, but dismissed it. Bandit had been working there
for months now and hadn’t shown any signs that he was a thief. Maybe he really was
looking for some ink.

“Hey, Lonnie,” Rett called from up front. “You ready to take a customer?”

He was ready to do something to take his mind off of his insanity. “Send him back.”

Lonnie unlocked his room and turned the light on. He stepped aside when a young, cocky
guy wearing dog tags stepped into his room. The man looked at him skeptically. “You the
artist?”

He got that from time to time. Lonnie didn’t have any tattoos because of his whole

drug recovery thing. He stayed away from needles and alcohol. Lonnie refused to relapse.
Most people thought that if an artist wasn’t inked, he didn’t know what he was doing.
“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t look like one.”

Lonnie measured the man with assessing eyes. “You in the military?”

“Army.”

“You don’t look old enough.” He pointed to his seat. “Do you know what you want

or are we going to sit here for hours while you decide?”

The guy looked like he was ready to deck Lonnie, and then a smile tugged at the

side of his mouth. “Point taken, but I’d still like to see your work.”

After they beat on their chests to see who was the toughest, they actually got along.

He spent the next hour tattooing a passage the guy had written himself about making your
own way in life onto the man’s side. He liked what it said and it kind of put things into
perspective for him.

It made Lonnie realize that he really didn’t have a shot at Santos and even though it

sucked, he needed to move on.

He just wished he could have stuck to that resolution when Santos entered the shop.

* * * *

Striker Hullender gazed out of the Dirty Hole, peering up at Andromeda, trying to

figure out a way to bring the Dark Riders down. The death of his brother, Vincent, was still
a fresh wound and he was going to make them pay.

He just hadn’t figured out how yet. He’d filled the old alpha’s head with the idea of

sending a Darling after the president’s toy, but that hadn’t panned out. The dumbass
creature had attacked the wrong person.

But he wasn’t going to give up until all four of them—including those two who

owned the tattoo shop—were dead. Turning, he picked up his drink, taking a sip before
smiling at the man sitting across from him.

“You ready to head to my place?”

“Whenever you are,” Spike said as he finished his drink.

* * * *

Santos did and didn’t want to be here. The one good thing in his favor was that no

one had turned the music on yet. It had been three days since he’d last been at Andromeda
and Falcon had demanded he take up the post today.

“Lonnie’s in the back,” Bandit said as he restacked the flash books that were sitting

open on the counter. Santos didn’t bother going to Lonnie’s room. He just took a seat and
popped in his earbuds. If things jumped off—which he highly doubted—then he would still
have visual.

His eyes flickered up when Lonnie came down the hallway with some cocky guy

behind him. Pale-green eyes clashed with obsidian before Santos looked down at his iPod.

Damn, he just had to go and look good with that messy bun of dreads. The guy was

even wearing skin-tight pants that shaped his rounded ass nicely. Why did he have to notice
that? Santos could feel his cock pulse but he refused to allow his imagination to take flight.

Lonnie didn’t go out of his way to say anything to Santos. As he looked under the

thickness of his lashes, he watched the artist talk with Bandit, never once looking his way.
The customer paid and headed out, and then Lonnie stepped back down the hallway.

Santos’s grip on his iPod tightened as his wolf growled in disapproval. It didn’t like

being ignored, but Santos was just fine with the silence.

Emilio opened the chrome-and-glass door, walking into the shop. He took a seat

next to Santos before picking up a magazine. Santos pulled the earbuds out. “What are you
doing here?”

“Waiting for a part,” he answered as he flipped through the pages. “I ordered

something special for my bike and the shop owner said it should be here before six.”

This damn place was starting to turn into a Dark Rider hangout. Santos liked the

Dirty Hole a lot better. The place might be disorderly and noisy, but there was no Lonnie.

Emilio tapped his thigh. “Going to Ruby Red. You in?”

He wasn’t sure what was with everyone hanging out there lately, but he didn’t see

any harm in trying to find someone to fill his bed. It had been a while since Santos had
anyone there. “Sure.”

Maybe he could find a stranger who could help him block out a man who was

becoming harder and harder to forget.

* * * *

“God, I love this place,” Zane said before he slipped through the wall of gyrating

bodies and disappeared from sight.

“Later.” Emilio vanished as well.

Santos stood next to Falcon, gazing over the black-garbed bodies as the punk rock

band played on the elevated stage at the front of the club. There were more body piercings
and colorful heads of hair than he’d ever seen in one room outside of Andromeda. It was
extremely easy to pick out the tourists who had stumbled inadvertently into the club. As his
eyes swept over the sea of partiers, Santos spotted Lonnie right at the edge of the stage,
mixed in with the crowd.

The guy was hard to miss. He stood out from all the rest. Not his clothes, but his

exotic looks and café au lait skin. He looked like a fallen angel among demons.

Did he really just think that?

Head slinging back and forth, body twisting in a seductive gesture, Lonnie looked

as if he were lost in his own private world.

Santos ignored his cock when it jerked in his jeans at the evocative sight. He was

not going to entertain thoughts of what that man would look like doing the same thing, only
naked and in Santos’s bed.

Falcon’s lover, Garrett, took off toward the stage to join his best friend as Santos

pushed his way to the bar. It was nights like this that he wished to the gods that he could get
drunk off his ass. He hadn’t told anyone of the explicit dreams he’d been having lately of a
short human with long dreads and pale-green eyes.

Because I don’t want to think about them.

Santos groaned when the strobe lights began to slice through the club, the array of

colors hurting his eyes. How did anyone stand this shit? The music became grungier, the
crowd wilder.

“Why don’t you relax and enjoy yourself?” Falcon slid a drink toward him. “On

me.”

Although they’d declared themselves independent of the Durango clan, and each

man was his own, Santos looked at Falcon as his leader, his alpha. He had hated the man
for converting him, but three hundred years was too damn long to hold a grudge.

“Thanks.” Picking up the drink, Santos knocked it back in one swallow. The burn

slid all the way down his throat, but there was no buzz, no fuzzy head.

He was glad it tasted good or Santos just might have been pissed that he was still

sober—and going to remain that way even if he drank the entire bottle.

Falcon’s expression became a bit stunned and amused before he said, “You might

want to take a look at the stage.”

Swinging around, Santos nearly crushed the tumbler in his hand when he saw

Lonnie up there with the band, playing one of the guitars, his head lowered as his body
jumped around. The crowd of people was going nuts.

Since when did he play bass guitar? And damn, the man actually knew what he was

doing. Falcon forgotten, Santos made his way through the wall of humans as he pushed his
body to the front of the stage. The little dread-head looked like he was in his own world.
His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted.

Suddenly—head still lowered—pale-green eyes were staring at him before a sexy

smirk pulled at the side of Lonnie’s mouth. The man’s eyes were heavy lidded and filled
with some kind of sensual invitation. Santos wasn’t sure what to do, but his wolf was
howling at the attention.

Dumb animal.

“He’s really good, isn’t he?” Garrett’s tone was filled with pride as he stood next to

Santos. He didn’t have to yell. They were both wolf shifters, able to hear over the
ear-piercing noise. “He gets up there once in a while when he’s in the mood and when
whatever band playing allows him.”

With Lonnie’s head still lowered and tilted to the side, the man’s hair seemed to

create a private veil that pulled Santos in and captivated him. The tip of Lonnie’s pink
tongue darted out and then slid seductively across his top lip before the man winked at him.
Santos had never blushed in his damn life, but he found his face heating at what Lonnie was
doing.

“You lucky bastard!” Some human slapped Santos’s shoulder. “What I wouldn’t

give to go home with that guy.”

Without thought, Santos’s eyes dropped to Lonnie’s groin to see the man’s cock

was fully erect in his bloodred cargo pants. Santos spun around, making his way back over
toward the bar. He wasn’t interested in the little shit. It didn’t matter that Lonnie had eyes
that the fates must have hand-spun themselves or sported an erection as he flirted with
Santos.

The man got under his skin and wasn’t worth the headache. He was loudmouthed

and irritating. He wasn’t even sure why—Santos shot back across the club when some jerk
jumped on stage with Lonnie, trying to grind on the short human from behind.

Pushing people out of his way, Santos could feel his canines threatening to lengthen

as anger rolled through him. He could tell that Lonnie didn’t want to be touched, but the
stranger seemed to have a hard time taking no for an answer. In one fluid motion, Santos
jumped up onto the stage, landing on both feet as he stalked over to where Lonnie was
being accosted.

“No!” Lonnie said to the guy as he pushed him back. The band kept on playing,

looking like they weren’t sure what to do. What idiots. How hard was it to get one guy off
of another? Curling his fingers into the nape of the stranger’s collar, Santos yanked him
back, hard.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was walking the finest edge of rage as

Santos suppressed the urge to snap the mofo’s neck. “What part of ‘no’ didn’t you grasp?”

Before he could get the guy off of the stage, Lonnie slung his booted foot out and

kicked the guy square in his ass. “Next time keep your hands to yourself!”

Santos hid his grin as he led the stranger to the edge of the stage and dropped him

down. He knew the guy was fine, maybe a bit dazed, but fine. Santos would never hurt
anyone weaker than him—unless he had to. The stranger was being obnoxious, but he was
pretty harmless.

Lonnie turned his back to Santos as he began to play again.

What fucking gratitude.

Deciding it might be best to stick around, Santos moved out of the band’s way but

was still close enough to let everyone know they weren’t welcome to hop up there. Why
was he doing this?

Fuck if he knew.

But his wolf had gone nuts when Lonnie was being manhandled by that numskull.

He spotted Emilio hugged up with some guy, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looked
over at Santos. His cousin was reading too much into this. Just because he’d gotten the jerk
off of Lonnie didn’t mean he cared.

Nope, it was a matter of making sure Falcon didn’t go crazy. In Santos’s nutty way

of thinking, if Lonnie got hurt, then Garrett would be upset. If Garrett was upset, then
Falcon wouldn’t be a happy man.

Simple equation in his book.

Chapter Three

Pushing his body through the sea of partiers, Lonnie made his way to the bar. He’d

worked up a sweat and his throat was bone-dry. The people seemed to have multiplied
since he’d first arrived at Ruby Red. The central air was having a hard time keeping up with
the mass. Lonnie felt a trickle of sweat inching down his back as he waved for the
bartender’s attention.

“Can I get an ice water?”

“Sure thing.” The bartender moved away, grabbing a glass from under the counter.

As Lonnie waited, he scanned the club for Santos’s bald head. The man had gotten off the
stage a few minutes before the set had ended. He wasn’t sure where the guy was now.
Reaching into his pocket, Lonnie grabbed the band he used to tie his hair up in a messy
ponytail.

“You were pretty good up there.”

Twisting his body around, Lonnie saw a man with eerily dark eyes and a lopsided

smile on his face. He looked college age and had a piercing over his left eye.

“Thanks.” Lonnie turned to the side to grab the glass the bartender set down and

took a long drink.

The man’s eyes dropped to Lonnie’s throat, no doubt watching the muscles work.

“Would you be interested in getting out of here?”

That would have been an offer Lonnie would have said yes to. He should have said

yes. But he found himself saying, “No.”

With a jerk of his body, the man leaned in closer. Too damn close in Lonnie’s

opinion. “I really think you should reconsider your answer.”

“And I really think you should consider a strong breath freshener.” Lonnie began to

move away, only to feel a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back with a quick jerk.

What is with these guys tonight? Can’t they take no for an answer? Spinning,

Lonnie tossed the cold water in the man’s face.

Only…it wasn’t the stranger.

Hells bells.

Santos’s jaw locked down so hard that Lonnie was expecting to see fire shooting

out of the man’s nostrils. He ducked low as Santos reached a big, beefy hand out toward
him. Taking off into the crowd, Lonnie knew he had to get away. The man looked like he
was ready to wipe the floor with Lonnie’s skinny ass.

He was heading for the back door, but when he saw the stranger who’d offered to

take him home, he turned to his right and kept moving. This placed him by the bathrooms
which sufficiently trapped him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lonnie gasped when he saw Santos right behind him, a

look of fury on his face.

“Don’t you dare!”

A demonic laugh rumbled through Santos’s chest as he caught Lonnie and pulled

him back. The man lifted Lonnie off the floor as his brawny arms tightened around
Lonnie’s body. He kicked and cursed as he struggled to get free.

“Put me down, asshole!”

“Not until you tell me why you threw that water in my face.” Santos’s tone was

more growl than sound. When Lonnie looked up at him, he could see the man’s eyes
flashing dangerously.

There was nothing he could do. Santos had Lonnie’s arms locked on either side of

his body. He was dangling from the man’s arms helplessly. “If you don’t let me go, I’m
going to shove my boot so far up your ass that you’ll taste my socks!”

“I’m really tired of your mouth,” Santos said and Lonnie could tell the man was on

the edge. Which edge was the question. Was the man pissed or horny? Lonnie couldn’t tell,
but he could feel Santos’s muscles straining all around him.

“Yeah?” Lonnie taunted as he jutted his chin in challenge. “Then do something

about it.”

A desperate hunger began to rise up in him as Santos stared into his eyes, his sultry

voice skimming over Lonnie’s body. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

Yanking his arms free, Lonnie wrapped them around Santos’s neck as the man tilted

his head to the side, eating at Lonnie’s lips just as desperately as Lonnie was sucking at his.
He wrapped his slim legs around the man’s waist, trying to get as close as he could.

Santos turned, bumping into the wall. Lonnie didn’t care if they fell on the nasty

floor right about now. He clawed at the man’s bald head as his hips bucked forward. Santos
had his hands clamped down tight on Lonnie’s ass as the man tried to lick Lonnie’s damn
tonsils.

The kiss was messy, desperate, and so damn agonizingly delicious that Lonnie was

ready to find a dark corner and let the man fuck him.

He hissed when Santos pulled at his hair, his skin buzzing as a shiver raced over

him. His cock was so hard and full right now that Lonnie only wanted release.

“Fucking pain in the ass,” Santos grumbled into Lonnie’s lips as his fingers

continued to tug at Lonnie’s hair, removing the band he had just moments before placed
around the strands.

“Asshole.” He bit the man’s lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. He was so

busy trying to hump the man’s stomach that he didn’t realize that Santos was walking them
to the back door. The night air cooled Lonnie’s heated skin, but it did nothing for the
burning in his groin.

He wanted Santos, badly.

Pushing Lonnie’s back into the brick wall, Santos’s hands slipped under Lonnie’s

shirt, his fingers twisting his hard nipples.

“Can we join in?”

Lonnie tore his mouth away from Santos to see the same man who’d offered to take

him home. Only there were three more guys with him. “Not in this life,” Lonnie said.

Santos wasn’t so forthcoming with words. His fingers dug into Lonnie’s sides so

hard that he grimaced from the pain. “Not so hard.”

He almost fell on his ass when Santos released him, making him scramble to land

on his feet. The man placed his large body between Lonnie and the four men.

“You don’t want to piss me off tonight,” Santos warned, his tone filled with frost.

“Go play at one of the underground caves.”

“But we want in on your action,” the cocky bastard up front said. “Besides, I asked

him out first.”

“Fuck off!” Lonnie tried to move around Santos’s large frame, but the man pushed

him back, tucking Lonnie behind him. Lonnie might not be able to beat all the men, but he
wasn’t one to hide. Not after beating a drug addiction and moving away from a fucked-up

home. He vowed to himself that he would never hide again. He would face his problems
head-on.

And this situation was no different. He couldn’t allow himself to hide behind

Santos. He knew there were things out there that weren’t human. He’d been bitten by
something called a Darling and Lonnie never wanted to experience that pain again.

But he wouldn’t hide.

“I’m not afraid of them.” Lonnie eyed each one, measuring them up. Okay, maybe

Santos could have the one in the back. He was pretty damn huge.

“Your human has a loud mouth,” the huge guy said. “I’m going to love snacking on

him.”

Human? That meant these guys were those Darling things. He still wasn’t

convinced about the whole wolf thing. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around that concept.

He started to lose some of his gung ho when the guy who’d been talking flashed

very shiny fangs. Lonnie remembered all too well what those felt like and he didn’t want to
be bitten again. All four men were a pretty nice size, all outweighing Lonnie by a good fifty
pounds each.

When Santos didn’t say a word, Lonnie glanced up and let out a small gasp. The

man’s normally dark eyes had a strange yellow cast to them, like the irises were changing
colors. They transitioned from dark, to brown, to a dark blue, then to a dark, dark amber.
“Your eyes are like a mood ring.”

Santos didn’t say anything, but he was pretty certain the man had heard him. He

couldn’t stop staring. The soft yellow light from the street lamp refracted the amber,
making them look like they were glowing. “You really are…”

Lonnie suddenly realized that Zane had been telling the truth when he said that Rett

had been converted into a wolf. Santos was standing there with the proof in his eyes.

“Are you going to stare us to death?” one of the guys asked Santos.

Two moved closer, caging Santos and Lonnie in, trapping them by the brick wall of

the building with nowhere to run. He wasn’t dealing with humans. That’s all Lonnie kept
thinking.

“He’s gearing up to kick your sorry assess.” Lonnie wasn’t sure if that was true, but

he couldn’t let the men see how scared he was. “You better stand back, because when he
gets pissed, people lose their heads.”

Santos glanced down at him, his brows pulled down tight. Lonnie shrugged. That

was the best he could come up with when his mind was grappling with the knowledge that
these men weren’t human.

There was a flash of something in those amber eyes, but before Lonnie could even

process what that something was, he was spun quickly and pressed hard against the wall.

* * * *

Watch the one in the back.

Santos assessed each one, but he knew who needed taking out first. Darlings were

normally cowards, unless they were in numbers. The big one looked like he was vibrating
with rage, ready to unleash it on Santos and Lonnie. He kept his hand on Lonnie’s back,
making sure the little shit didn’t try to fight. He was no match for a Darling. Even though a
lot of humans could best the creatures, Lonnie wasn’t big to begin with. Santos feared the

man would be severely injured, bitten, or even killed.

“You gonna take all four of us on?” the loudmouth in the front asked. “Niiice.”

“That sounds so damn kinky.” Lonnie couldn’t help himself. He just couldn’t shut

his mouth. Santos was beginning to think the man didn’t have an off button. “I’m just a
one-man kind of guy. You’ll have to go to one of the caves to get your rocks off.”

Would you just shut up already? Santos pushed Lonnie harder into the wall, hoping

the man got the idea. He placed his body directly in front of Lonnie’s when one of the
Darlings charged him.

With one beefy arm, he clotheslined the guy and dropped him on his ass. The man

lay there stunned as the next one came after him, and all the while Santos kept his eye on
the large man in the back. It wasn’t so much that he was bigger than Santos, but the man’s
quiet observation had Santos being very cautious.

As he waited for the Darling to his right to make a move, Lonnie shot around the

fallen man and headed into the club. This took Santos by surprise. He hadn’t been
expecting the man to fight, but he hadn’t expected him to jump ship either.

“Looks like it’s just us and the wolf,” the loudmouth said.

“Seems fair to me,” Santos replied, letting his claws extend. “Come and get some,

pussy.”

But it wasn’t the loudmouth who charged him. It was the quiet man in the back.

Santos braced his body, placing one foot behind the other as the Darling slammed into him.
The man was pretty damn solid, but not solid enough. Santos deflected the hard slam with a
jab to the man’s face.

The back door to the club slammed open and Zane came rushing out. “Partying

without me?”

Lonnie came rushing back out, his face flushed as his pale-green eyes landed on

Santos. “I got you some help.”

Santos slammed his fists repeatedly into the Darling’s face as the anger began to

mount inside of him. “I didn’t need any fucking help.”

Could the guy have sliced Santos’s manhood up any smaller? It was diced so finely

that he was ready for a skewer and an open spit roast.

“But there are four of them!” Lonnie protested as he pointed a polished nail at the

men coming at Zane. ‘Tell me you can handle them all!”

Pissed because Lonnie had questioned his manhood, Santos’s canines elongated, his

claws slicing through the large man as he kept going, slicing and dicing and cutting the man
up. He didn’t stop until the large Darling was lying bloody on the ground, and then he
grabbed Zane’s knife that the man was handing to him and decapitated the bastard.

“Gross!” Lonnie shouted as he spun on his booted heels and took off back into the

club.

“Way to impress the guy,” Zane said as they watched the other three Darlings haul

ass from the alleyway. “Although I prefer to shed less blood when I’m trying to show off in
front of a man I want to have sex with.”

The body on the ground turned to ash as Santos handed Zane back his knife. He

wasn’t in the mood for the man’s barbs. Santos was beyond angry that Lonnie had gone for
help.

“I told you to clean my shit before you return it,” Zane said with disgust as Santos

made his way toward the front of the club. He got onto his bike and took off, heading for
somewhere to vent his anger before he went back into that club and taught the dread-head

just how much of a man he truly was.

* * * *

Zane could only shake his head as he wrapped his dagger in a bandana he’d shoved

in his back pocket earlier. Santos had it bad. If only the man would admit he wanted
Lonnie, things would go a lot smoother. But until then, he needed to school the blond hottie
on wolf etiquette. Mainly, never make Santos look like a punk. Right or wrong, men never
liked looking weak, especially in front of the man they were catching feelings for.

Lonnie had a lot to learn about them. Walking back inside, he spotted his twin

sitting next to Garrett, both talking quietly with each other. Zane smiled. He was happy
Falcon had finally found someone to center him. His brother deserved to be happy.

But that wasn’t who he was looking for.

Zane scoured the club, but there was no sign of Lonnie anywhere. He saw that

Garrett was still here, and knew Lonnie wouldn't leave without him. Zane had even
checked the men’s room to no avail.

Santos hadn’t come back in either. It seemed the night was quickly turning to shit.

Pushing his way over to where his twin was sitting, he glanced between Falcon and Garrett.
“I can’t find Lonnie anywhere.”

Chapter Four

Shoving his hands into his front pockets, Lonnie hunched his shoulders as he

walked home. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he needed time to clear his head.
Santos was pretty pissed at him and as much as he didn’t want to, Lonnie cared that the
man had seemed highly offended at him.

Although that wasn’t what was screwing with Lonnie’s brain. Santos’s eyes had

turned into something otherworldly, and the man had extended some freaky-looking nails.
He’d also killed a man—slicing him up before chopping his damn head right off. Lonnie
felt like he was going to be sick.

Zane had said that Rett had been converted into a wolf, but it hadn’t dawned on

Lonnie that Santos was wolf as well. It should have, and he wanted to kick himself for
being so slow on the uptake.

God, he’d been lusting after an animal. How gross was that? Lonnie had had his fair

share of strange sexual encounters, but that had to be the weirdest fetish yet.

And to think, if he had slept with Santos, he might have gotten rabies. Probably not,

but it made him feel a little better making light of the situation.

As Lonnie walked toward Second Street, he started to regret leaving the club. He

would be the first to admit that he had a bit of a temper and did things without thinking
when he was highly emotional. And how much more emotional could he get than watching
Santos kill a man?

“Fresh meat, boys.”

Lonnie heard someone close by and was hoping they weren’t talking about him.

Now that he was aware there were more than humans walking around, he knew leaving
hadn’t been such a bright idea. What if one of those biting Darlings had come back?
Remembering how painful it was to be bitten by one of those creatures had Lonnie walking
just a bit faster.

“Don’t run, pretty boy. Don’t you want to play?”

This time Lonnie took a quick look over his shoulder. He saw two guys close

behind him, looking cocky and confident. One had a smirk on his handsome face and the
other was staring at Lonnie like he would make a tasty snack.

Santos’s claws and freaky-deaky eyes were starting to look more and more

appealing. He could really use them right now to get these guys off his ass. Lonnie’s boots
slapped the pavement harder as he took off running. He could hear their heavy footfalls
behind him as they gave chase.

It was late, and a lot of the shops had closed up for the night, leaving him with slim

choices on where he could hide. He was thankful as hell that he was in shape or he’d be
Darling food right now.

Cutting around a corner, Lonnie saw that the street was barely lit. Some of the

streetlights weren’t working, leaving too many shadows around him. He was all-out
running but could still hear the men pursuing him.

He had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to get away. The question was, would

he survive his encounter with them?

* * * *

Santos was still angry with Lonnie but was beginning to feel like a damn fool for

leaving the club. Was his ego that big that he got pissed at Lonnie going for help?

At least the man had enough sense to go for one of the Dark Riders. And if he really

thought about it, Lonnie running for help meant that the little shit cared, right? Not that
Santos was looking for him to care. But as he thought about the kiss, his lips started to
tingle and his cock was getting hard.

He knew he was going to go back to the club. Even his wolf was egging him to head

back to Ruby Red.

I must be losing my damn mind.

He had to be. Santos was seriously considering voluntarily being around the blond

dread-head. Willingness had to equal insanity. Lonnie was the only person Santos knew
that could push his buttons and make him hit the roof that easily.

That’s because you are fighting the way you really feel about him.

Santos doubted that. He was ready to snap the man in half most of the time.

Slowing down at the corner, Santos shook his head before he made a U-turn in the street
and headed back. Maybe he was coming down with something and lusting after loudmouth
twinks was a side effect.

He slowed to a stop at a red light, sitting on his Ducati as he wondered how he’d

gone from loathing the guy to lusting after him when he spotted Lonnie hauling ass down
the street. There was no mistaking those blond dreads and thigh-high boots with thick
heels.

But what really caught Santos’s attention was the two guys chasing Lonnie.

Darlings.

Revving his bike, Santos shot past the red light, thankful it was so late and there

was barely any traffic out. He swerved between two parked cars as he jumped the curb,
stopping twenty feet away from Lonnie as the man ran toward him. He could see relief in
those pale-green eyes as the man made a beeline for Santos.

Jumping off his bike, Santos closed the distance, shoving Lonnie behind him as he

swiped his claws at the first man to reach him. The guy ducked and tried to bite Santos’s
arm, but he was much faster than that. Santos shoved his fist into the guy’s jaw, hearing a
cracking sound as flesh met flesh.

Where’s Lonnie? Did the other guy go after him?

Santos wanted to look, but didn’t dare take his attention off of the Darling he was

fighting. It seemed they were getting cockier and cockier lately. Darlings normally ran,
scared of wolf shifters. But these two—along with the four behind the club—seemed
fearless.

He remembered a time when Darlings only prowled in alleyways and hung out in

the sleaziest of places. Now they were strolling down the street like they were humans and
had the same rights and privileges.

Santos drove his fist harder, knocking the Darling to his ass before he pulled the

blade he carried with him and drove it into the son of a bitch’s throat. He’d used Zane’s
earlier because he hated cleaning his weapons. But he had no choice as he severed the
Darling’s head.

“Santos!”

Spinning around, Santos saw Lonnie hemmed up against the building as he

struggled to keep the Darling’s razor-sharp teeth from sinking into his flesh. He was
shoving both hands into the man’s jaw, pushing him away, but was quickly losing ground.

In just a few strides, Santos had the Darling by his hair and was pulling him away

from Lonnie. “You wanna play with someone your own size?”

The guy wasn’t as big as Santos, but he outweighed Lonnie by a good thirty pounds.

The cockiness he once had in his eyes was bleeding away as he sized Santos up.

Before he could take the man down, he jerked in Santos’s grip, slinging his body

forward. He grabbed Lonnie’s shirt, holding on for dear life as he sank his teeth into the
dread-head’s neck.

“No!” Santos shouted and then slit the bastard’s throat to stop him from ripping

Lonnie’s out. But the damage was done. Lonnie slumped as soon as the Darling released
him. Santos took five seconds to sever the Darling’s head before he dropped to his knees,
checking Lonnie’s wound.

It was gruesomely bad. The Darling had severed Lonnie’s artery and he was

bleeding out fast. Pale-green eyes stared up at him, a toxic mix of fear and regret swimming
in their depths.

“Hang in there, Lonnie. I’m not gonna let you die.” Santos glanced around quickly,

making sure no one else was in the vicinity before he opened his mouth, letting his canines
slide free before he sank them into Lonnie’s shoulder.

Lonnie jerked, but he didn’t make a sound. The man couldn’t, and seeing him like

this made Santos so fucking angry that he wanted to bring the two Darlings back to life so
he could kill them all over again. Lonnie may be a loudmouth pain in the ass, but he didn’t
deserve this. Not this.

Santos was torn at what he had to do. He had hated Falcon for a full century for

converting him and he didn’t want Lonnie to hate him. Not for saving his life. The man
could hate Santos for a lot of things, plenty, but not for making sure he took another breath,
lived another day, had another chance to flip Santos off as he said something smart and
sarcastic.

Knowing he had to get the man to the cabin for his conversion, Santos picked

Lonnie up from the ground before some human or cop came by and thought he was the one
who’d nearly torn Lonnie’s throat out. The two Darlings were nothing more than a pile of
ash that the wind would take care of.

“I got you, Lonnie.” Santos hugged the man to the front of his chest as he straddled

his bike. Even with large shoulders and brute strength, it was awkward trying to get the
man situated.

Driving was going to be complicated as hell. Holding Lonnie with one arm, Santos

pulled his cell phone free with the other. He dialed Falcon’s number as he prayed that
Lonnie didn’t bleed out before the conversion took.

“Falcon.”

“I got Lonnie on my bike.”

“Thank fuck,” Falcon said. “We’ve been looking for him.”

“He’s hurt, badly.” Santos paused as the hand holding Lonnie tightened on the man.

“I need four wheels. A Darling nearly ripped his throat out. I had to convert him in order to
save his life, Falcon.”

He heard a string of curses on the other end of the phone. “Where are you?”

“One block west of Second Street. He’s bleeding pretty badly and I know I can’t

hold onto him before I get him home.” Santos was trying his best to hold back the emotions

he felt choking him up, but he heard the strain in his voice and knew that Falcon could hear
it as well.

Who knew I cared this damn much?

“Hold tight. I’ll borrow a vehicle and be there as soon as I can.”

In other words, Falcon was going to lift someone’s keys. Santos didn’t care if he

hotwired the mayor’s car right now. The only thing that mattered to him was getting Lonnie
home and making sure the man didn’t die on him.

In the back of his mind, Santos knew that Lonnie was now under his protection

since he had converted the man. But hadn’t he already been protecting the guy?

He was thankful that sex wasn’t always involved in converting a human to wolf. It

was a bonus—a huge bonus—but there was no way Santos was taking Lonnie. Not when
he was lying like a wounded babe in his arms.

Santos pocketed his phone and checked Lonnie’s throat. Already the bleeding had

slowed to a trickle. That meant the conversion was happening faster than he’d like. Not that
Santos didn’t want him to heal, but he was going to be in pain soon and he’d rather have
Lonnie somewhere comfortable and private when it happened.

Because once the conversion was complete, Lonnie was going to be so amped up

for sex that Santos would kill anyone nearby. In that state of mind, Lonnie would let
anyone fuck him and Santos would end whoever was dumb enough to offer his life.

He’s got you twisted up, pal.

That he did. Santos was starting to see that he really did want Lonnie. He just hated

that it took the man going through something like this in order for him to admit to those
feelings. Santos wasn’t sure how deep those feelings were, but he knew the thought of
anyone else having sex with the little dread-head made him want to commit murder.

Santos tucked Lonnie close when he saw headlights. If it wasn’t Falcon, he hoped

whoever was passing by didn’t see all the blood on his clothing. There was a heavy amount
and there was no way he could hide the crimson color that stained him from chest to thighs.

Car doors slammed and Santos saw Garrett and Falcon heading his way.

“What the hell happened!” Garrett shouted so loudly that he was going to draw

unwanted attention. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Falcon had to pull Garrett back. The man looked like he was ready to cut Santos’s

throat.

Speaking in a low tone, Falcon said something to Garrett. Whatever it was, the man

stopped advancing, but he still looked like he was about to sprout two horns and a tail.

“Let’s get him in the back of the car.” Falcon stepped back as Santos carried Lonnie

to the black Jeep Cherokee. He laid the man down long ways on the seat before glancing at
his bike. He didn’t want to leave it behind, but he didn’t want to leave Lonnie’s side either.

“Zane and Emilio are already heading to the cabin to retrieve the truck and flatbed.

They’ll get your bike for you.”

Santos climbed in back, placing Lonnie’s head in his lap as Garrett slammed the

back door. He cradled the man as Falcon drove home, speeding as soon as he cleared the
city limits.

Chapter Five

Lonnie opened his eyes, feeling like he’d been in a mosh pit for five straight days.

Everything on him hurt. It was worse than when he’d been bitten by that Darling.

His bones actually hurt. As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he realized that he

was back in that damn cabin of Falcon’s. But that thought took a backseat as his body
started heating up. Lonnie felt like years of sexual desire were starting to burn him alive.
His cock became rigid as his skin felt so damn sensitive.

“You’re awake.”

Turning his head to the side, Lonnie saw Santos standing by the bed, completely

naked. As much as he wanted to tell the guy to go to hell, that he wasn’t having sex with
him, his body wasn’t listening. He found himself pushing the sheet away to reveal just how
needy he truly was. But as he stared up into eyes that had haunted his dreams, Lonnie
saw…fear? Why on earth would Santos be afraid of him?

Without a word, Santos slipped into the bed, his warm and inviting body stretching

out over Lonnie. “I know you probably would rather have sex with your hand and some
lube, but I’m all you have right now.”

Who was this guy and where was the bear that constantly growled at him, ready to

snap him in half? He wasn’t used to the softer side of Santos. It was unnerving. Seeing just
how vulnerable Santos could really be made Lonnie feel guilty as hell for using him like
this. “Why are we having sex?”

Even as he asked the question, his body started burning hotter and hotter. Sweat

began to form on his skin and his heart rate was growing steadily faster.

“It’s the conversion,” Santos answered as he hovered, but didn’t make a move to

touch Lonnie. “It’s complete, but your hormones are still adjusting to the new you.”

“So I’d hump a lamppost right now?” That wasn’t comforting. It also made him

uncomfortable knowing he only wanted to have sex with the big, bearlike man because of
his hormones. Yes, Lonnie had wanted Santos, but on his own terms, not because he was
burning with some imbalance.

“Pretty much,” Santos answered honestly. “I can go get you one if that’s what you

would prefer.”

Why did Lonnie think the man was serious? And why in the hell did Santos look

hurt from the offer? He wasn’t supposed to look hurt. He was supposed to be snapping at
Lonnie, telling him he could go fuck a hole in the wall for all he cared.

“Santos being nice is a very scary thing.” Lonnie reached up, unable to stop himself

from touching. His fingers grazed down Santos’s neck, feeling the strained muscles.
“Knock it off.”

“You know you are a wolf now, right?”

“No, but thanks for telling me at the most inopportune moment, lughead.” Lonnie

smacked Santos’s shoulder, trying his best to glare at the man, but the heat in his body was
making him moan instead. He hooked his hand around the nape of Santos’s neck, pulling
the man closer. “Jackass.”

“Loudmouth pain in the ass,” Santos replied before he nipped Lonnie’s lower lip,

sending a spark of heat shooting down to his groin.

He spread his legs wide, inviting the man to settle between them. “You stripped me

naked,” Lonnie accused. “You saw my goodies before I was awake.”

Santos pinned Lonnie’s hands above his head, nipping at his chin. “And you think I

fondled an unconscious man?” Santos asked with a belligerent snort. “I’m never that
desperate.”

“Shut the hell up and fuck me already.” Lonnie moved his body toward Santos’s

large frame, that little voice in his head wondering if the man wasn’t too damn big for him.
Santos was average in length, but the girth was incredibly thick.

Reaching for a bottle of lube on the nightstand, Santos released Lonnie’s wrists as

he lathered his fingers.

“Had this all planned out?” Unable to stop himself, Lonnie reached over and

grabbed Santos’s cock. The heated shaft pulsed in the palm of his hand.

“Mother fuck!” Santos dropped the lube, inhaling a deep breath. “You can’t do that,

dumbass.”

Lonnie chuckled. “What…this?” He began to stroke the man’s dick gently, pulling

on the flesh and watching the head turn darker.

“Yeah…that,” Santos panted as his eyes fluttered closed before they sprang open,

the dark irises once again amber. But Lonnie wasn’t scared this time. If anything, the
sharply contrasted eyes intrigued him.

Lonnie tried to tease the guy a little more, but soon forgot the wicked torment when

Santos’s beefy fingers slid into his ass.

Oh…wow!

“Too much?” Santos asked as he began to pull his fingers free.

“Don’t move!” Lonnie shouted as he breathed past the stretch and burn. But not

even that was enough to stop him from wanting Santos. His body was on fire like he was
being raked over hot coals as his head spun with need.

Santos hovered, his fingers up Lonnie’s ass as his eyes searched Lonnie’s face. As

soon as he started relaxing, Santos must have noticed, because he started moving his fingers
once again, pushing and pulling, sweat building on his skin.

Pressing his lips close to Lonnie’s ear, Santos said, “I told you that you wouldn’t be

able to handle me.”

Lonnie was speechless at the deep baritone voice sending hot spikes of lust through

his body. Santos leaned back and he could see a raw, earthy, animalistic appetite in the
man’s smoky dark eyes.

“Prove me wrong,” he challenged as his lips curled back into a smile that showed

straight, white teeth. “Or am I right?”

Lonnie was momentarily stunned by what the man said, wondering if he could

really handle Santos. But then his snarky personality kicked into fully loaded Lonnie.
“Question is,” he said as he gripped Santos’s cock harder. “Can you keep up with me?”

Santos’s nostrils flared as Lonnie shoved at the man’s chest, feeling strength and

agility he’d never possessed before take over. He had Santos flat on his back, looking
shocked as Lonnie climbed on top of the man. “Keep your arms and head in the vehicle at
all times while I take this baby for a test drive.”

Lifting his hips, Lonnie took Santos’s thick cock fully into his ass, gasping and

groaning as he felt like he was being split in two. But he didn’t let Santos know this. Hell
no. The man wanted a challenge, then Lonnie was going to give him one.

Resting the palms of his hands on Santos’s wide chest, Lonnie began to move his

hips, rocking back and forth as he took the man, tamed the beast, and rode the hard shaft

like he meant it.

Santos tried to lift up, but Lonnie kept the man down, his palms sliding over the

guy’s sweaty skin. Finally, Santos gave up trying to be in control as his fingers sank into
Lonnie’s hips, holding him as Lonnie set the sheets on fire.

He dropped repeatedly onto Santos’s cock, letting his head fall back as he felt the

fire burning higher inside of him. He knew part of this was the conversion, but most of it
was because Lonnie had wanted Santos like he’d never wanted anyone in his life.

“That’s it, baby,” Santos groaned as he planted his feet on the bed. “Fuck this cock.

Take it.”

Lonnie reached behind him and pressed his hands over Santos’s knees, using them

for leverage as he swiveled his hips, bounced, and then rocked forward.

Shivers raced over him when Santos’s hands slid over his skin, his fingers touching

Lonnie everywhere. The man was so sensual, so evocative right now. His eyes hadn’t
changed back to their normal color and Lonnie could see the fires burning deep in their
depths.

“So beautiful,” Santos murmured.

“Stop being nice, lughead.”

Santos threw his head back and laughed. “So feisty. I love it.”

Lonnie stared at Santos in amazement. Had he ever seen him laugh before? The

show of white teeth behind that gorgeous smile momentarily stunned him. The curve of his
lips was breathtaking.

“What the—” Lonnie grabbed the man’s shoulders as Santos flipped them. He

grabbed the headboard and started to thrust his hips forward in a fast and steady stroke.
Lonnie could do nothing but wrap his legs around the man and hold on.

“My turn, loudmouth.” His cock drove deep, hard, and Lonnie began to cry out

from the sheer pleasure the man was bringing him. This was like nothing he’d ever felt
before. Lonnie’s past lovers were good, but Santos was off the hook.

He was getting his breath fucked out of him. Lonnie gasped for air, reaching up to

pull on Santos’s arm, ready to ask the man to slow down until he remembered Santos’s
challenge. Determined not to let the man get the upper hand, Lonnie drove his hips up,
meeting the man thrust for thrust.

“Stop trying to keep up,” Santos said in a teasing tone. “But don’t worry, I’ll teach

you…eventually.”

Which meant this wasn’t the last time Santos wanted to have sex with Lonnie.

“An old man like you?” Lonnie shot back. “What are you, thirty-five, thirty-eight?

Don’t you need a break? Better be careful before you throw a hip out.”

Take that!

Santos’s lip curled back in a haunting smirk. “Baby, I’m three hundred years old

and just getting started with you. Get ready for a long-ass night.”

Lonnie’s hips faltered as he stared daftly up at Santos. “Fuck, you’re old.” But the

promise that this was going to last all night already had Lonnie exhausted. Maybe he really
couldn’t handle the guy.

He should be astonished that Santos had just confessed that he was three centuries

old. So why wasn’t he? Shock. Yeah, that’s it. He was in shock. Maybe later he would
freak out, but right now he was getting his freak on.

Leaning down, the man nuzzled his face into Lonnie’s neck, taking a deep breath.

Was he…yeah, Santos was sniffing him. What a weirdo.

“I can smell your wolf, Lonnie.” Santos nuzzled deeper. “You smell like you bathed

in my scent.”

Lonnie opened his mouth to say something smart but stopped himself at the last

second. Santos had sounded so pleased, so sincere that he couldn’t bring himself to ruin this
moment for the man, for Lonnie.

He reached up and ran his fingers over the man’s bald head, pressing Santos closer

and feeling something shift inside of his chest. Was he starting to care about the man?

Nah.

But he didn’t try to make Santos talk trash. He let the man slow his pace, his rhythm

becoming leisurely, his movements unhurried. If he wasn’t mistaken, Santos had gone from
fucking Lonnie to making love to him.

He hissed when Santos grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged lightly, kissing him

down his neck and over his collarbone. Heavy sparks of desire exploded inside Lonnie as
the man’s lips continued to trace along his skin.

Sex had never been anything more than two people finding gratification with each

other. Lonnie had never invested his feelings and he’d never felt anything like this before.
He always had a good time, but this…this was something more, something that was
seeping into his heart and that scared him.

Shifting to his side, Santos slid his hand down Lonnie’s leg and then pulled it up to

rest on his waist. Lonnie pressed his chest into Santos’s as the man cupped his face and
made Lonnie look him directly in his eyes.

“You’re mine to protect now, Lonnie. Do you understand that?”

“Are you getting possessive?” He’d had enough of that with Spike and a few other

men. Lonnie didn’t like anyone thinking they owned him.

“No, I’m stating a fact. I converted you, so now you are under my protection.”

Lonnie pondered the thought as Santos sank his cock deeper, touching him in places

he didn’t want to think about. The man’s moves had slowed and he was exploring Lonnie’s
body with soft touches that were driving him wild.

Lonnie had to end this, had to stop himself from falling for this big bear. He didn’t

do commitment and he wasn’t going to allow himself to care for Santos.

Reaching between their sweat-slicked bodies, Lonnie grabbed his cock, stroking it

quickly. Santos didn’t say a word. He didn’t stop Lonnie. In fact, he began to thrust faster,
as if helping him to reach his climax.

Arching his back, Lonnie cried out, feeling his seed spurt between them as his body

pulsed with his release. Santos turned, hovering right over Lonnie as he snapped his hips so
quickly that Lonnie was inched up the bed slowly.

With one more hard thrust, Santos sank his cock deep, keeping it buried as he

growled and groaned through his climax. They were both panting, both silent.

This is so damn awkward.

Lonnie hissed as Santos pulled his cock free and almost gasped when he saw the

man was still hard. But Lonnie didn’t plan on having sex with Santos for the entire night.
He was ready to be alone so he could mull over what had happened to him, what he’d
become.

And most importantly, how to handle the new, budding feelings blossoming inside

him for Santos.

Chapter Six

Lonnie had sworn he wasn’t having sex all night with Santos, but boy, had he been

wrong. It seemed the heat inside of him wouldn’t subside until the wee hours of the
morning, and Santos had kept pace, giving Lonnie whatever he needed when the fire
burned hotter inside of him.

He cracked his eyes opened and groaned at how sore his ass was. He’d never fucked

that long in his life. Lonnie just crossed his fingers that the heat didn’t return because he
was worn out.

Santos was dead to the world, lying next to Lonnie on the dark sheets, snoring his

ass off. He was surprised the walls weren’t coming down and that he’d slept through the
rumbling sound.

Looks like Santos is wiped out from last night.

Easing as quietly as he could from the bed, he grabbed his clothes from the floor

and hurried to the bathroom. Once the door was closed, he took a deep breath.

Fuck, he was a wolf now. What did that mean? What could he do? Rett seemed the

same. Nothing about his best friend had changed. Maybe nothing would.

He sat on the closed toilet seat, trying to breathe normally even though he wanted to

freak out. “What do I know about being a wolf?” he whispered to himself.

He glanced at his hand, trying to imagine claws where his fingernails were, but

couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. He stood, glanced in the mirror, and pulled his
upper lip back. His canine teeth didn’t look any different. Tugging at his skin, Lonnie
pulled the lower part of his eye down and rolled his eyeball. They were still pale green in
color and nothing out of the ordinary was there.

Although he knew what Santos had told him was true, Lonnie just couldn’t imagine

himself being a wolf. Maybe when he changed into one for the first time, it would sink in.
Until then, it didn’t seem real. One thing he couldn’t deny was that he felt different on the
inside. He couldn’t quiet pinpoint what had changed—besides the obvious—but he knew
there was something definitely weird going on inside of him.

Turning the shower on, he stepped in and washed up, hissing when he ran the cloth

over his backside. Santos really did try to fuck the life out of him. The man had been
insatiable. But Lonnie had given as good as he—Wait, why in the hell was he even thinking
like that?

Santos was not someone he was going to fall back into bed with. It was a

one-off—multiple times. This was not going to lead to anything.

Getting out and drying off, Lonnie glanced at his shirt and knew he couldn’t put the

thing back on. His blood was dried and crusted all over the material. He tossed it into the
trash can and then slid his pants into place. Either he was going to find something of
Santos’s to wear, or he’d walk out of this joint bare-chested.

Shoving his feet into his boots, Lonnie strapped them up, thanking whoever was

listening that they hadn’t gotten ruined. They were his favorite pair. He absolutely loved the
small skulls that were used for the buckles, and the red webbing looked fabulous against the
black material.

He hated putting on yesterday’s clothes, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to

do it, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. At least he’d showered first.

Opening the bathroom door, Lonnie peeked out to see Santos digging through his

dresser drawer. The man was completely naked and looked like he was comfortable about
it.

The man didn’t say a word as Lonnie sat on the side of the bed, waiting to get the

hell out of there. “Are you giving me a ride back to the city or do I have to thumb it?” he
asked as he tossed his damn dreads over his shoulder.

The big bear grunted. “Let me get a shower first.”

“Well, I do have a life, so if you don’t mind. I’d like to get to work.” Lonnie was

fighting the strange and new feelings inside of him. He wasn’t even sure what to do with
them. He’d never felt this way for anyone else and he didn’t know if he liked the way his
pulse raced or the feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

“You’ll get there when I get you there.” Santos took his clothes and went into the

bathroom, shutting the door without saying another word. Admittedly, Lonnie was the first
to act snarky—a defense mechanism against his budding feelings.

So why did it sting to hear Santos return the snappy tone?

Whatever. Lonnie got up and snooped through the man’s drawer, trying to find a

shirt that would fit. Santos was a hell of a lot bigger than him, height and girth. Everything
that Lonnie pulled out looked three sizes too big.

Deciding he wasn’t going to find anything that fit, Lonnie pulled a shirt out, shoved

it over his head, and tied the side off. It would have to do until he got home and changed.

The bathroom door opened and Santos stilled, gazing at the shirt Lonnie was

wearing. “You don’t mind, do ya?” His tone told Santos that he didn’t care if the man did.

Dark eyes slid away as Santos went for his boots. He shoved his feet in and had

them tied up quickly, heading for the door.

Guess it’s time to go.

Following, Lonnie watched the man’s backside as they ascended the stairs. He

remembered vividly what that body had done to him and he was getting hard all over again.

And this time he couldn’t blame it on hormonal imbalance. The heat from the

conversion was gone, but it seemed his lust for Santos’s body wasn’t.

I’m a fucking idiot.

The place was deathly quiet as they made their way to the raggedy cabin above.

Lonnie was glad he was heading back to his life.

At least there, things would return to normal.

Hopefully.

“Over there.” Santos nodded toward the lake before he started walking over to the

bank. He stopped, turned, giving Lonnie a look that said he needed to get moving.

Lonnie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the bear. He was confused as hell

at what Santos wanted him to do. “What, you want me to jump into the lake?”

There was something distinctively smug about his smile. “If only it were that easy.

No, you are going to learn how to shift.”

“But I thought you were taking me back to the city?” This was not what he had

planned for today. Santos’s body was a tight wall of muscle as he stood there, looking
unfazed.

“Are you whining about this?”

Hearing the disapproval in Santos’s tone pricked at Lonnie’s nerves. He stomped

over to the edge, pointing a finger up at the man. “You tricked me.”

To his utter surprise, Santos leaned down and bit his finger.

“Ow!” He pulled his hand back.

There was a hint of amusement in the dark depths of his eyes. “Don’t point that

damn thing in my face. Now, get undressed so I can show you the basics.”

“But I just got dressed!” There was that, but Lonnie was mostly protesting because

he was scared shitless. He refused to let the lughead know just how worried he was. The
man was standing there expecting him to change into a wolf. That knowledge was blowing
his mind, making his heart race, his palms sweat, and his head spin.

What if he really did change? What if he couldn’t change back? Lonnie couldn’t go

through life with paws. How was he going to tatt anyone or talk?

“You worry too much.”

Lonnie’s head snapped up, his lips slightly parting. “How did you know what I was

thinking?”

Santos’s large shoulders shrugged. “For one, I can smell your fear and

apprehension. It’s thick on my tongue. Two, I can see snatches of images in your head.”

Lonnie slammed his fist into Santos’s chest. “You stay out of my head! You are not

allowed in there!”

Fuck, he was going to be sick. The idea of Darlings, wolves, shifting into animals,

and now being able to see into someone’s mind was becoming too much for him. Lonnie
dropped to his knees on the grass, holding his chest with one hand as he tried to pull in
enough air to breathe.

Santos squatted beside him, running a hand over his back. “Deep breaths. I know

it’s a lot to take in.”

Turning, Lonnie sat on his ass, brushing his hair from his face as he rested his arms

on his bent knees. As he looked around, nothing seemed real any longer. The leaves seemed
to blow differently. The cabin seemed out of place. Even the smell of the water was more
vibrant, tangier on his tongue. It dawned on him that everything was sharper, crisper, and
pulsing with an energy he had never seen before.

Santos didn’t say a word as he began to unlace Lonnie’s boots. He didn’t say

anything either. He just sat there and watched strong fingers work until the man was
slipping his boots off. Santos reached for Lonnie’s shirt, pulling it up over his head. “The
pants.”

Getting up, Lonnie felt his body tremble as he unsnapped his pants and slid them

off. He was standing on the side of the lake, naked, feeling out of sorts.

“A wolf was born inside of you last night,” Santos began.

“That just sounds creepy.”

“Pay attention.” The words weren’t given harshly, but Lonnie could tell Santos was

in teaching mode. He wanted to give another smart-ass reply but knew it was probably best
that he pay close attention.

He was used to being naked, had plenty of sex, and wasn’t ashamed of his body, but

as Lonnie stood there, he found himself placing his hands over his flaccid cock.

Santos reached over and untied Lonnie’s hair, letting the pale dreads fall freely

around him. He wasn’t sure if that was necessary, but he saw the approval in Santos’s eyes.
He felt fucking vulnerable standing there naked, Santos practically towering over him.
Lonnie didn’t like feeling that way. He hated feeling out of control. But what could he do?
He had to learn.

Reaching out, Santos grasped his chin between his index finger and thumb. “This is

very important, so pay attention. Learning how to shift may be the difference between life

and death in our world.”

Lonnie cleared his throat and nodded, hoping he didn’t shake apart with fear.

Releasing his chin, Lonnie watched as Santos pulled two pouches of electrolytes from the
inside of his leather. He dropped them on the grass before turning back to Lonnie.

“I want you to get on all fours and then close your eyes, going deep inside yourself

until you find your wolf.”

Lonnie wasn’t too sure about that. It sounded too damn hokey-pokey to him. The

man might as well swing a watch in front of his face and tell Lonnie that he was getting
sleepy. That’s what it felt like. This whole plan was ridiculous, but Lonnie did as he was
told.

“Concentrate.”

“I will if you will be quiet.” Lonnie snarled at Santos and then closed his eyes, his

mind going to the tattoo shop. He thought about Rett being there, probably worried sick
about him. Lonnie needed to call his best friend and let him know—“Ow!”

His backside was stinging. The bastard had swatted him! “Do that again and I can

guarantee you’ll be limping for a month!”

Santos leaned in, his eyes turning to that funky amber color, and he could hear a low

growl rumbling in the man’s chest. “I did not tell you to daydream. I told you to find your
wolf.”

Lonnie silently mocked him before closing his eyes once more, his ass still stinging.

He was going to punch the man in his balls if he did that again.

“Clear your mind.”

Lonnie focused, searching silently for a wolf he was positive wasn’t there. Santos

was full of—he gasped, nearly falling over when pale-green eyes gazed up at him in his
mind. A pale-blond wolf was sitting on its haunches, looking up at Lonnie as if waiting for
some sort of command.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. His arms began to shake as he realized that he really did

have a wolf inside of him.

“Do not fear him, Lonnie. He is you.”

Fuck if he was. Lonnie hadn’t been born with that thing inside of him. The movie

Alien came to mind. “He isn’t going to burst from my chest, is he?”

“He is going to burst from your body.”

“Oh, hell no!” Lonnie’s eyes flew open as he stood. “There is no fucking way that

thing is going to burst through any damn part of me.”

With red-hot anger in his eyes, Santos walked over, grabbed Lonnie by his upper

arm, and pulled him back down to the grass. They were eye level with each other, the
menacing stare nearly intimidating him. “Life or death, Lonnie. Think about that. Darlings
and other wolves are nothing to play around with. You already know what a Darling can do
to you. Imagine another wolf coming at you. Do you think you can defeat it with fists?”

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Of. Me.”

Santos retreated, but only a foot. “Concentrate.”

A war was waging inside of him. Lonnie knew what Santos was saying made sense,

but he had never asked for any of this. He didn’t want Darlings coming after him, or
anything else. He didn’t like change. It left him in unfamiliar territory and that made his life
feel unbalanced.

Santos cupped his chin, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. “Please, for your own

safety. Try.”

The man was full of surprises today. Lonnie had never heard Santos plea with

anyone. His head bobbed up and down as he closed his eyes. He found the wolf once more,
approaching it cautiously.

Don’t eat me and I won’t freak the fuck out.

The wolf cocked its head to the side. He wasn’t sure if it understood him or not.

Taking in a deep breath, Lonnie moved closer, running a shaky hand over the wolf’s back.
As he petted the thing, he felt something inside of him changing. Lonnie cried out when his
bones felt like they were crunching, reshaping. He fell to the ground, panting, hating that he
was in pain once more.

“Stop fighting him,” Santos said. “Let it happen.”

The pain was intense, and then it just vanished.

“Fuck,” Santos whispered as Lonnie opened his eyes, gazing up at the man and

wondering why he was standing there with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “Beautiful.”

Pushing to his feet, Lonnie staggered a little and then looked down, his mind

stuttering when he saw pale paws instead of his feet.

This was a day he was never going to forget.

Chapter Seven

Garrett stood behind the counter at Andromeda, worried sick about Lonnie. But

Falcon had told him pacing the cabin would drive him insane, so he decided to open the
shop with his lover’s promise that if things changed, he would be informed right away.

Falcon had also told him that his and Lonnie’s conversions were like night and day.

While Garrett was contaminated with a small amount of blood and went through a slow
change, Lonnie had been violently attacked and was outright bitten by Santos to save the
man’s life. The change would come over Lonnie instantly and he wouldn’t sleep as long as
Garrett had when the change happened.

The only thing Garrett knew was that he was worried sick and wanted to kill the

Darling who had attacked Lonnie. Too bad Santos had already ended the thing’s life.

“Don’t you have a life, Jake?” he asked when Jake walked through the door and

took a seat on the sofa. The guy’s shoulder-length black hair was tied back and he was
wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt—his usual garb.

Turning his amber eyes on Garrett, he said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” Jake

grabbed a magazine and settled back. “Besides, I’m waiting to hear about a job not too far
from here. If they call me in, I want to be close.”

Leaning his forearms on the glass case, Garrett asked, “What are you applying for?”

He knew Jake, but he didn’t really know him. The guy started hanging around when they
first opened shop a few years back and had become a fixture around Andromeda’s to where
his presence was just the norm.

Garrett had never really gotten to know the guy. Hell, he didn’t even know where

Jake lived or what his last name was.

Lifting his shoulders slightly, Jake shrugged, seeming indifferent. “Cashier.”

“At?”

“The Dirty Hole.”

Garrett was a bit surprised. Jake was a good guy, from the little that he knew about

the man. He couldn’t imagine him working over at the biker bar. Maybe there was another
side to the guy that he wasn’t aware of. Maybe Jake wasn’t the quiet type after all.

“It’s just a gig.” Tossing the magazine aside, Jake cocked his head to the side, his

expression saying he was contemplating something before he said, “Do you need someone
to work the counter here?”

Bandit, the other tattoo artist who worked there had been coming in less and less. It

might not hurt to give Jake a try. He pretty much knew the clientele and the routine of the
shop.

Garrett pondered what he should do as “I Stand Alone” by Godsmack played over

the speakers in the shop. “How are you with the register and receipts?”

Jake stood, walking behind the counter. He was roughly Garrett’s height, maybe a

little shorter, but had a nice build. Garrett was dating Falcon, not blind. He’d always
thought Jake attractive, but he was never sexually interested in the guy.

“I have been coming around here for two and a half years, Garrett. I know this shop

better than Bandit. The only two who know it better than me are you and Lonnie. I won’t
let you down.”

“Trial basis,” Garrett finally said. “If I say it isn’t working out, don’t act like

Spike.” Because now that Garrett was a wolf shifter, he’d kick Jake’s ass. Okay, so he still
wasn’t that well versed in fighting, but he was pretty sure he could kick Jake’s butt.

A cocky grin pulled at Jake’s lips. “I’ve seen the men you hang around. I’m not

suicidal.”

Garrett nodded, glancing down at the tattoos on Jake’s arm. He’d never gotten this

close to the guy, not in all the years he had come around. And this was the first time Garrett
noticed that the tattoos, although really nice, were covering up marks he was pretty sure
Jake wanted no one to see.

When the door chimed, Garrett groaned. He recognized Detective Jack Tate. The

man had been looking for him for weeks for questioning in one of the Durango pack’s
murders. Lonnie and the Dark Riders had managed to keep the man at bay, but it seemed
today was the detective’s lucky day.

The man glanced around the shop and shivered. Not everyone got Garrett and

Lonnie’s taste, but that was the least of his concerns. Playing ignorant, Garrett gave the
man a welcoming smile. “Welcome to Andromeda’s. Looking to get tatted?”

The man looked too straitlaced to have a tattoo anywhere on his body. If there was a

stereotype behind what a cop should look like, Jack Tate was the poster boy. He just wished
Zane hadn’t left to run an errand. Now it was just him and Jake, and the damn detective.

“Are you Mr. Grissom?” The guy pulled out a notepad, scanned it over, and then

looked at Garrett as if he were itching for Garrett to lie. He had nothing to do with Vincent
Hullender’s death. He hadn't even been there when it happened.

Emilio was the one who had shot the wolf shifter. Nonetheless, Garrett wasn’t

naming any names. Leaning against the wall behind him, Garrett crossed his arms over his
chest, trying his best to look unconcerned, when he was really scared shitless on the inside.
“I am.”

“About fucking time,” Tate mumbled. “What did you do, go on vacation?” It was a

very sarcastic question. He curbed the urge to flip up his middle finger and give the guy a
piece of his mind. Too bad Lonnie wasn’t here. The guy was pretty damn good at throwing
someone off subject and confusing them.

Sometimes Garrett wondered if it was a natural ability or if Lonnie was just one

confused fellow himself. Thinking about his best friend only made him worry once more.
He wanted to call Santos to see what was going on. But if things went as well as they
should have, then Santos and Lonnie would be having sex, and that wasn’t something he
wanted to hear.

Detective Tate rested his elbow on the flash book, his eyes not missing a thing. He

seemed to be assessing Garrett and he had a feeling he was coming up short. “I want to
question you about the death of Vincent Hullender.”

It wasn’t like he had to lie. Garrett knew nothing about what happened. “I wasn’t

home at the time,” he said truthfully. “My friend needed me to stay with him for a few days
because of something personal he was going through, so I hurriedly packed and was out of
there the day before.”

Okay, so maybe the second part was a lie, but he wasn’t going to tell the detective

what Falcon had told him. As long as he kept things simple, he should be fine. That was the
problem when people lied. They made things too elaborate, too complicated.

Simple was the only way to go.

“Do you have any idea why Vincent Hullender was in your apartment?”

“Not a clue.” Garrett’s eyes flickered to the door when Zane walked in. He kept his

features relaxed, as if he had absolutely nothing to hide. The detective didn’t know a damn
thing about wolf shifters and territorial disputes, and Garrett wasn’t handing the man a clue.

“If I would have known you were coming, I would have ordered you some food.”

Zane set the bag on the counter, getting real close to the detective. “But we could go in
back and work up an appetite.”

“I’d rather get a root canal,” Tate said without missing a beat, his tone casual. “But

don’t let me stop you from going back there and doing things for yourself.”

“You know you want to watch,” Zane teased as he leaned on one arm, smiling

flirtatiously with the guy. “I can get really down and dirty with myself.”

Jake burst out laughing and then cleared his throat, taking a seat on the couch,

putting as much distance as he could between himself and Tate. Garrett just quietly
observed, hoping the guy forgot about him and left.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Tate warned before turning his dark-grey eyes on

Garrett. “So you’re telling me that some random guy you don’t even know broke into your
place and was shot by some other random stranger?”

The man’s tone was cynical and sarcastic. If otherworldly creatures hadn’t been

involved in all of this, the situation would have sounded too far-fetched even for Garrett’s
ears. “Sounds about right.” Garrett nodded. “Odder things have happened in this
neighborhood.”

Isn’t that the understatement of the century?

Garrett’s eyes had been opened to so many bizarre things lately that sometimes he

wondered if maybe he’d lost his mind and was locked up somewhere on heavy medication.
Things still seemed too surreal to him.

But he wasn’t doped up and all of this was real. The secret new world he lived in

was a scary damn place, but he wouldn’t give up being with Falcon to go back to an
ignorant existence.

Zane moved a little closer and Detective Tate growled. That didn’t seem to faze

Zane one bit. If anything, the sound seemed to turn the Dark Rider on. Garrett didn’t
understand Zane’s interest in the cop. Who in their right mind found a cop sexy?

“I’m not done questioning you, Mr. Grissom. Don’t go into hiding again or I’ll haul

your ass downtown.” Tate shoved at Zane’s shoulder as he headed for the door. “Keep
yourself available.”

“Are you available?” Zane asked, but Tate was already heading out. Garrett knew

the cop only cut the questioning short because he wanted to get away from Zane. He’d be
back.

“Eat up,” Zane said, like the cop hadn't just been there in the shop. His mood

changed from flirtatious to normal in the blink of an eye. “Burgers suck when they’re
cold.”

“How the hell am I going to get out of this?” Garrett asked, suddenly not hungry

any longer. His appetite had fled the moment the detective walked through the door. “He
isn’t going to give up.”

Zane shoved a few fries in his mouth, his dark eyes filled with indefinable emotion.

“Just stick to your story and you have nothing to worry about.”

Garrett’s eyes flicked over to Jake. How had he forgotten the man was sitting there?

Jake was acting like he wasn’t listening, but Garrett knew that he was. The guy was soaking
everything up that he and Zane were saying. He nodded in Jake’s direction, and Zane
looked over, still seeming unworried.

“Didn’t hear a thing.” Jake became intensely interested in the small plant sitting on

the table next to him. That reminded Garrett that he was supposed to have Jake work there
on a trial basis. His concern over the cop took a backseat when a customer strolled in,
talking to Garrett about having a tattoo drawn up for him.

Leaving Zane and Jake up front, he took his customer to the back, discussing work

and trying his best not to freak out, or worry his head off about Lonnie.

Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.

Chapter Eight

After teaching Lonnie how to shift back to his human form, neither really said a

word. Lonnie looked too shaken up to speak, and Santos wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t
sure how he felt toward the man and Santos refused to be the first one to admit a damn
thing. Last night was nothing more than hot, steamy sex. Being with Lonnie hadn’t changed
his views about the man one bit. He was still a big pain in the ass and he had proven that
this morning with his smart mouth and resistance.

Climbing onto his bike, Santos saw the dried blood from Lonnie’s attack last night.

It was crusted over his gas tank, reminding him how close he’d been to losing the man.

That didn’t matter. Lonnie wasn’t even his type. Why should he be upset that the

guy had gone right back to his winning personality at the first rays of the sun? Why should
it bother him that the artist hadn’t been affected by what they had done?

Straddling the bike, Santos waited for Lonnie to slide his slim body into place. His

mind immediately pulled up the memory of what the man felt like under him as Lonnie
grabbed him around the waist. His cock started to thicken, his body humming to life at the
slight touch.

Oh, knock it the hell off.

Why the hell was he even going there? It would never work so he needed to forget

how the man felt in his arms. Starting his bike, Santos pulled away from the cabin. Falcon
and Emilio were tracking down some leads concerning Striker, the new alpha of the
Durango clan.

It seemed he had his hand in many pots and they had heard rumors that he was

planning to attack the Dark Riders, ridding Paradise City of their presence.

Not in this lifetime.

He was going to drop Lonnie off and then go find Falcon. He knew Lonnie carried

the scent of being newly converted, but Zane was at the shop and he knew that the Dark
Rider would protect the man. As he drove, Santos tried his best to figure out what to do
about Lonnie. He was getting a headache trying to come up with a solution.

By the time he dropped Lonnie off at Andromeda’s, Santos was ready to smash

something with his fist. He pulled up next to the curb, avoiding the trash lining the
sidewalk in rows of bags as he planted his booted feet on the damp pavement. From the
waves of steam coming from the ground, Santos could tell that it had rained last night in the
city, but the heat of the day was making its way back and he was ready to take off just to
cool down.

And not just from the weather. Having Lonnie gripping him tightly hadn’t helped

his cock in any way. Lonnie slid from the bike, the sunglasses perched on his face lifting to
reveal pale-green eyes that Santos was going to hate to see fade to black. That’s what
always happened when a person was converted.

But Garrett had been an exception to that rule. Falcon’s lover still retained his hazel

coloring. Maybe Lonnie had a shot at keeping the exotic look. “Thanks for the ride.”

Santos was thrown off by Lonnie’s chipper tone. He had expected him to say

something sarcastic, but he stood there smiling, showing off pretty white teeth.

“You’re welcome.”

For the first time in his life, Santos wasn’t sure where to settle his eyes. They

ping-ponged around as Lonnie tossed his dreads over his shoulder, standing there looking
sexy enough to eat. He sat up straight on his bike, wanting to say something to Lonnie, but
couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t reveal what a wreck he was on the inside. “Get
inside the shop.”

Pale-green orbs rolled skyward as Lonnie placed a hand on his slim hip. “I lived my

life just fine without a babysitter, Santos. I don’t need Zane looking out for me.”

“After what happened last night, you need all the protection you can get.” Santos

wasn’t going to budge on that point and was relieved he had a subject he could sink his
teeth into. “You’re one of us now, Lonnie. We look out for our own and you need to get
your skinny ass inside.”

Lonnie looked offended as he stood there. “You didn’t say anything about me being

too skinny last night!” Spinning on his three-inch heels, Lonnie stormed up the steps.
Santos hadn’t meant anything by what he’d said, but it seemed Lonnie had taken it the
wrong way.

Figures. It didn’t seem like they were ever going to get along. Disgusted at the turn

of events, Santos pulled his cell phone out and called Zane, asking him to watch over
Lonnie so he could meet up with Falcon and Emilio.

“The brat is in here now.”

“I’m not a brat, you moron!”

Santos pulled the phone from his ear at Lonnie’s loud voice. The man was pissed.

Was it because Zane had called him a name or because Santos was leaving? He was
half-tempted to go inside, but he really did need to find out what was going on with Striker.

Hanging up, Santos leaned forward and took off. He made a U-turn in the street,

avoiding the parked cars, and headed toward the Big Egg. That was the only place he could
think of that Falcon and Emilio could be this early. It was a restaurant that served breakfast
all day and a place where Falcon had met quite a few informants.

It paid to have one’s ear to the ground, gathering intel from the streets to keep up

with what was going on in the Durango clan. Ever since the old alpha, Callahan, was killed,
there had been chatter about Striker reforming the clan, recruiting younger, fresher blood.
Some even said that Striker was converting some gangbangers from the Upper West Side.

He wouldn’t put it past Striker to pull some bullshit stunt like that. The man wasn’t

any better at being an alpha than Callahan had been. But with a younger alpha in place who
thought like an immature wolf, things were going downhill, fast.

Just as he suspected, Santos spotted Falcon and Emilio’s bikes in the parking lot,

parked close to the entrance. Maneuvering around an elderly couple leaving the restaurant,
Santos lined his bike up next to the other two and dismounted.

He walked in to the smell of bacon and syrupy-sweet scents and the sound of people

talking and food frying on the grill. His stomach began to rumble. With the continuous
bouts of sex last night, Santos was starving now.

“Didn’t think to see you for a long while.” Falcon sat there, his arm over the back of

the cracked, orange booth, his sunglasses still in place even though they were inside.
“How’d everything go?”

Slipping in beside Emilio, Santos just grunted as he set his sunglasses on top of his

head. “He survived.” That was all the detail he was giving as the waitress walked over and
instantly began to pour him a cup of coffee. After giving his order, the waitress left them
alone to chat.

“What’s the news on the street?” He wanted to change the subject, get away from

talking about that blond loudmouth.

“It isn’t word on the street.” Emilio scooped some fried eggs mixed with hash

browns onto his fork. “We saw with our own eyes what Striker has been up to. I recognized
Spider from the Blood Hearts gang talking with the alpha just an hour before you got here.”

Recruiting anyone from the Hearts gang was like going Dumpster diving. They

were the scum of Paradise City. Spider was an active banger on the Upper West Side.
Sports, gambling, and dealing cocaine to young professionals on the Lower East Side were
his primary bread and butter.

That was not a prospect Santos wanted to think about. Even Callahan had been

smart enough to leave that scum alone. Not that Santos feared any of them, but they didn’t
care who they hurt or what they did to get the job done. That made them very dangerous
men.

Santos sat back when the waitress brought him a plate piled high with French toast,

sausages, eggs, and a bowl of grits. He thought about Lonnie and how he hadn’t even fed
the guy before dropping him off and a small part of his brain niggled with guilt. That
usually wasn’t something he did with anyone he slept with. Santos had a conscience and
always made sure his lovers were well fed after a night of extreme exercise between the
sheets. But he had wanted to get away from Lonnie and the strange feelings budding inside
of him.

“Chochum is supposed to be meeting us here.” Falcon lifted his coffee cup and took

a sip. “He’s running behind.”

“He might not even show.” Santos practically scarfed down his meal, feeling as if

he hadn’t eaten in days. “The streets are too hot right now. I have a feeling he doesn’t want
to risk getting caught with us.”

“I want you to head over to the shop.” Falcon sipped at his coffee. “If things are

getting that bad, I don’t want to leave Garrett and Lonnie with just one of us. I wouldn’t put
it past Striker to recruit some Darlings as well.”

Just the thought of one of those creatures touching Lonnie again made the food in

his stomach turn. Santos pushed his plate aside and rose from the booth. He tossed some
money on the table for his meal. “I’ll head over there.”

Falcon pulled his sunglasses down his nose and stared at Santos with a knowing

look. “You two getting along any better?”

“He’s still a loudmouth pain in the ass.” Santos heard his cousin Emilio chuckle as

he walked out of the Big Egg. He didn’t want to discuss Lonnie with anyone right now
because he hadn’t a damn clue what he was going to do about the blond man.

* * * *

Striker Hullender sat in a car across the street from the Big Egg, watching the Dark

Riders eating breakfast. His brother Vincent was dead and the man responsible sat there
smiling. Emilio Alverez looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Is that him?”

Striker nodded at the guy sitting in the passenger’s seat. He was a punk from the

Hearts gang, disposable and ready to prove himself. The human had a black teardrop under
his left eye, yet had no idea what he was up against when it came to the Dark Riders, but if
he lucked out and succeeded, then Emilio would be dead and Striker would have his

revenge.

He already had two Darlings lined up to sneak into Lonnie’s apartment tonight and

finish off what was started with the guy. He shouldn’t have been converted. Lonnie was
supposed to have died in that attack, but fate had sent Santos Alverez his way.

What shitty-ass luck.

“Don’t move on him now,” Striker said when the guy started to get out of the car.

What a fucking idiot. “Settle back.”

The guy pulled his hoodie further over his face as he sat back. How the hell he wore

that thick sweater in this heat was beyond Striker.

But what did he care?

“Wait until nightfall and then rig his bike with the explosive I gave you.” If the guy

managed to get this right, Striker just might consider converting him and pulling him into
the Durango clan. But that was a big if.

Pulling out into the heavy traffic, Striker drove a block away from the Dirty Hole

and dropped the guy off. He quickly drove away when he saw that nosey detective’s car
sitting a few buildings down from the tattoo shop.

He wasn’t on the human’s radar and he planned to keep it that way. It just made

things a little more complicated if that detective stuck around too long. Then again, maybe
the guy he’d just dropped off was stupid and would plant the explosive anyway.

There was only one way to find out and Striker would know come morning if

Emilio was still breathing.

* * * *

Rett nearly tackled him as Lonnie walked through the door of Andromeda. He had

to brace himself in order not to fall on his ass.

“Fuck, I’m glad to see you!” The guy was hugging him so tightly that Lonnie feared

Rett would crack a rib.

“I’m fine.” Lonnie patted his back. “But you might finish me off if you don’t ease

up, dork.” He was finally able to breathe when his best friend let him go. Jake was sitting
there, a wide smile on his face and an expression that said he hadn’t a clue what was going
on but was happy to see Lonnie.

It was good to see some things hadn’t changed. Everything around the shop looked

the same. Even Bandit was behind the counter, grinning at Lonnie. There were a few
customers lingering around, watching Lonnie and Rett.

“Are they taken care of?” Lonnie asked as he jutted his chin toward the customers.

“You can have whichever one you want.” Rett winked at him and then lowered his

voice, “How was…you know…Santos?”

Lonnie burst out laughing, holding his side at the way Rett was trying to talk in

code. It felt damn good to be back to his old routine. “Damn good in bed,” he replied. “I
thought I was going to limp for a minute there.”

Zane chuckled as he shook his head but didn’t say a word. He was on the couch

next to Jake, his dark eyes skimming over Lonnie. That look better be innocent. Having one
Dark Rider to keep up with was enough for him. But Lonnie had a feeling Zane was just
checking him out to make sure he was okay.

“You smell like you bathed in Santos’s scent.” Rett backed up, plugging his nose

with his fingers. “Dude definitely put a claim on you.”

Lonnie was done talking about the big, irritating bear. Which was pretty ironic

considering just a few days ago he was dying for Santos to take notice of him—in a more
sexual way, that was. But now that they had slept together, Lonnie was ready to haul ass
way from the guy.

He shook his head and pointed to one of the customers. “You, in my room, now.”

Getting caught up in his work should take his mind off of Santos, his wolf, his

changing feelings, and anything else that made his mind spin. “Do you know what you
want?”

The guy pulled a piece of paper out of the front pockets of his expensive-looking

jeans. “I have a drawing right here.”

Lonnie took the paper as he showed the guy to his room. It wasn’t anything hard. It

might take him a while to draw it up, but that wouldn’t be a problem. “Wait here.”

Walking to the back by the bathroom, Lonnie took a seat at a small easel that sat off

to the side and clipped the drawing in place. He stretched, his skin feeling a bit tight. And
what was with his dumb emotions? It was like the new thing inside of him was whining for
Santos.

“Oh, shut up,” he said to his wolf. Even though he had shifted, Lonnie still felt

weird talking to the thing. It almost felt like there should be someone standing in front of
him as he growled to himself.

As Lonnie sketched the man’s drawing, razor-sharp awareness stole over him as he

smelled the sharp, clean bite of Santos.

The man was here, in the shop.

“Big fucking deal,” he grumbled to himself. He wasn’t going to seek the big, dumb,

bear out. There was no way he was going to allow the wolf inside of him to moon over that
man.

But as hard as he tried to concentrate on the fine lines and details of what he was

doing, his mind went back to the tall, thick man with a light goatee and talented lips.

Squeezing the pen tighter, Lonnie clenched his jaw. He nearly jerked out of his seat

when Rett came to the back. Thank goodness it wasn’t Santos.

“So, how did it go?” the man asked as he jumped up onto the counter and smiled

devilishly at Lonnie. “I take it you and Santos—”

“You already asked me that.” Lonnie set the pen down, giving his friend an evil

smile. “But I guess you want intimate details now that no one is around.”

Rett screwed his face up and he shook his head slightly. “Hardly. I don’t want to

know what happened. I want to know what happened afterward.”

Standing, Lonnie crept over to Rett and bent his head close, making sure his voice

was nothing more than a mere whisper when he said, “I took a fucking shower. What do
you think happened?”

Rett shoved him aside. “You’re no fun.”

A smile edged his lips. “Fine, doofus. We had sex all night long and then when we

woke up, both of us pretended it never happened.”

“Look, Lonnie.” Rett placed a hand on either side of his thighs, curling his fingers

around the edge of the table. “I know you and Santos fight like cats and dogs, but it had to
mean something to—”

“Don’t even go there.” Lonnie walked back over to the easel and sat down. “I

almost died, Santos saved me, we fucked like rabbits, and now it’s time for me to get back

to my life. End of story.”

Lonnie just wished he believe the words coming out of his mouth. It wasn’t the end

of the story and he knew it. His attraction toward the large man had grown deeper and
Lonnie couldn’t figure out how to stop the train wreck from happening.

Chapter Nine

Emilio stood at the top of the steps, gazing over the neighborhood. Glancing around

the street, Garrett took in the liveliness of the neighborhood. The Irish pub that was a few
doors down from the Dirty Hole was loud, the music spilling out onto the streets—as well
as some of the patrons—while people laughed and looked like they were having a
genuinely good time. Merchants stood outside their stores, bullshitting with each other on
the warm summer night.

But something was off. He could feel it in his bones. There was a faint hint of

malice in the air. Thinking he had been around way too long and was starting to look for
trouble where there was none, Emilio trotted down the steps from the tattoo shop, heading
for his motorcycle.

“Hey, Emilio!”

Turning, Emilio saw Jake at the top of the black metal stairs, Emilio’s helmet

tucked under his arm. “You forgot something.”

He waited as Jake brought it to him. The human handed it over and then gazed at

Emilio’s bike. “That is one sweet bike you have.”

Emilio grinned, knowing that look all too well. Jake was hinting at a ride. He

normally didn’t let anyone on his bike and wasn’t considering letting Jake until the man
turned those amber eyes on him. There was just something about the goth man who hung
out at Andromeda’s that caught Emilio’s attention, but he had never allowed anyone to see
his interest in the guy.

“She is,” he agreed as he set his helmet on the seat. He could see that the request

was practically on the tip of the guy’s tongue, but he wasn’t going to make this easy. He
liked seeing the hesitation, the curiosity, and the shyness in Jake. Most men he dealt with
lacked those qualities.

Since coming around Andromeda, Emilio had learned a lot about himself. He

belonged to the Dark Riders, dealt with Darlings and other shifters, or just cutthroat
humans. Lonnie and Garrett weren’t like that. They had taught him that there were people
in the world who weren’t out to fuck him over or gain something by being his friend.

And the more he got to know Jake, he was discovering the guy was just looking to

be accepted. He looked like he could get into some shit, but behind that façade of goth
madness, Jake was just trying to fit in somewhere.

“Well.” Jake ran a hand over the back of his neck, a hitch of nervousness in his

tone. “I see you need to take off.”

Emilio grinned, crossing his hands in front of him. He heard the ruckus behind him

at the Dirty Hole, the sounds of cars passing by, and a dog bark as he waited to see what
Jake was going to do.

“Garrett hired me to work the register, so I better get back inside. I’ll see you

around.” Jake turned and headed for the steps, stopped, spun back around, and then
frowned. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

Emilio chuckled and then winced when Jake nearly collided with the railing. The

guy glared at the railing as if it had snuck up on him on purpose, and then hurried up the
steps, the chains on his pants swaying.

Shoving the helmet over his head, Emilio straddled his bike. Falcon had sent him to

go check out the Red Velvet, a place where the Durango clan hung out. He wanted Emilio
to know who was coming and going from the club, and just how many Hearts were being
recruited.

He started his motorcycle, made a U-turn in the street, and then took off. Just as he

pulled up to a red light, Emilio spotted something sticking out slightly from under the
exhaust pipe. Grabbing the object, Emilio’s heart started pounding hard in his chest when
he realized he was holding a small pack of C4.

Running on pure instinct, he drove his bike through the red light, down an alley on

the next block, and then quickly tossed the pack into the Dumpster. He had noticed a
remote detonation device on the thing and wondered who had planted it because whoever it
was, well, they were an amateur.

Thank fuck.

He drove away, the sound of the Dumpster exploding echoing in his ears as he

stopped his bike and looked back over his shoulder. There was only one person who wanted
him dead that badly.

Striker.

And you almost allowed Jake on your bike.

Emilio pulled his helmet off, watching as smoke billowed into the air before pulling

his cell phone free.

“Someone just tried to blow me up,” he said when Falcon answered. “Fucking C4.”

Emilio glanced at the parked cars lining the street and noticed the detective who had been
asking about Garrett. He was sitting there with a stunned look on his face.

Dismounting, Emilio growled as he crossed the street, yanking the car door open

before he pulled the detective from his seat. “Did you just try to blow me up?” he shouted
into the man’s face, the anger of how he had nearly lost his life driving him to want to kill
someone.

“Get your fucking hands off of me.” Tate shoved at him, his grey eyes filled with

contempt. “If I wanted you dead, I would just shoot you.”

“Then what in the fuck are you doing here?”

The detective didn’t answer him. He was staring at the alley where the explosive

had blown the damn Dumpster up. Emilio started to calm down, cursing at the situation. It
seemed Striker was playing for keeps. He wasn’t anything like Callahan. The man meant
business.

He pressed the phone to his ear, letting out a long breath. “It looks like Striker is

coming for his revenge.”

* * * *

Lonnie walked into his apartment, turning on the lamp as he tossed his keys aside.

What a fucking day. His ass was still sore and his head was pounding. All he wanted to do
was take a hot shower, eat, and pass out for two days. Having Santos at the shop damn near
all night made it very hard to concentrate and Lonnie was glad for a moment of peaceful
calm.

Taking a seat on his couch, he unlaced his boots and then pulled them off, wiggling

his toes and sighing. It felt good to stretch out and relax. Lonnie leaned further into the

couch, feeling his eyes drifting closed when a subtle, noxious scent invaded his nose.

He was instantly alert, but still seeming relaxed. Whoever was in his place, Lonnie

didn’t let on that he knew, because he wasn’t sure what to do. His wolf growled, snapped
its jaws, but fuck if Lonnie could remember how to let the dang thing out. Santos had only
shown him once, and he was too terrified right now to remember the lesson.

Scratching his stomach, he yawned and stood, still not seeing anyone, but he knew

someone was there. He remained casual, his appearance blasé as he pretended to reach for
his boots. As soon as he was bent over, Lonnie shot to the door.

Two strangers were racing toward him from his kitchen, their arms outstretched as

he tried to get the door open. But getting out wasn’t that easy, not when Lonnie had bolted
and chained the door shut.

His heart was in this throat, his breath was raspy, and Lonnie could feel full body

tremors starting to seize him. His hands wouldn’t cooperate. They just kept fumbling with
the chain.

“No you don’t!” One of the men grabbed Lonnie around the waist and hauled him

off of his feet. He kicked out, swinging his arms, trying to get free.

The other guy grabbed Lonnie’s legs as they carried him further into the apartment.

He knew that if he didn’t get free, he was dead. These were Darlings. There was no
mistaking their smell.

Lonnie was tossed onto his bed, both men laughing harshly. All Lonnie could think

about was getting free. If he could just get out of the apartment, he was pretty sure he could
get away. Lonnie was a damn fast runner.

The most important thing he had to remember was to keep their sharp fangs away

from—Lonnie screamed when one of the men pounced, biting deep into his upper arm. He
slammed his fist down on the man’s face, praying the guy didn’t rip his flesh apart.

The other guy struck, biting Lonnie hard on his thigh. The pain was so intense that

he feared he would pass out. The man who had bitten his arm released it, and then sank his
fangs into Lonnie’s shoulder.

His mind raced, his body shook so hard that he wondered if his bones were going to

snap. Lonnie’s jaw locked tight as he was bitten repeatedly.

The sounds around him became muffled and then a deep ringing began to vibrate

through his ear canals. His mind swam with fogginess as his body began to shut down.

He heard a howl somewhere…somewhere. He tried to look, but all he could see

were black spots and then the room began to spin, tilting and twirling.

“Lonnie.” Someone grabbed his face, shaking him roughly. “You have to shift in

order to get some of the poison out of you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, hyperventilating as he tried to listen, but all he could

hear was the ringing in his ears, which now sounded like large bells tolling.

The pain.

It was too much.

“Lonnie!” His face was shaken even harder. “Think of your wolf. Let him take over.

Give in to him.”

His body locked up, forcing Lonnie to arch in indescribable pain as he felt his eyes

rolling to the back of his head.

“He’s seizing!”

Something was forced into his mouth. It was smooth, hard, and tasted faintly like

leather. Lonnie didn’t want to die. Why hadn’t he done more with his life? Joining a band

for real would have been fun. He didn’t even get to tell Rett how much he loved the man
and appreciated his friend sticking by him through all the madness that had been their
adolescence.

He was going to die.

Lonnie had no doubt about this.

“Shift!” The harsh command was barked in his ear. “I won’t lose you, loudmouth.

We are far from done with each other.”

A bone-deep, soul-shattering scream escaped his throat as his body began to jerk so

hard that whoever was holding him down fell on top of Lonnie.

A vibrating, enraged growl tore loose inside of him. Something was fighting,

scratching, and biting to get free. Lonnie was growing too weary to fight, too pain filled to
care. His brain, his flesh, his blood felt like it was boiling, burning him alive.

Suddenly, his bones began to crack, reshape, sending a fresh wave of pain through

him. Lonnie tossed his head back and shouted until his throat could no longer carry the
sound.

“That’s it, shift. Let it happen.”

The pain was still intense, making him feel nauseous, but his body no longer felt

like it was burning from the inside out. He panted, writhed around as the poison ran rapidly
through him.

“Get him into a cool tub of water.”

Lonnie felt himself being lifted, a wave of dizziness making his head spin right

before he blacked out.

* * * *

Santos’s hands shook as he lowered Lonnie into the cool water. He didn’t think this

would help, but the guy was burning up. His skin was flushed, a deep red, his body limp.

He had never heard of anyone being bitten so many times and surviving. The pain

alone would drive anyone mad. The two Darlings lay on Lonnie’s bedroom floor, torn
apart, their blood still flowing like a dead river over the hardwood. He and Emilio had
come by, Santos feeling a need he couldn’t ignore to check on the guy.

Lonnie didn’t even react when Santos sank him deep into the water. He was in his

wolf form, his fur so blond it almost looked snow white. The wolf just lay there,
unresponsive.

If he didn’t feel the barely discernible fall and rise of the animal’s chest, Santos

would think him dead. Emilio was out in the hallway, talking quickly and quietly into the
phone. All Santos could do was hold onto the wolf and pray…just…pray.

“Falcon says to bite him,” Emilio said from the doorway. “He said a double dose of

wolf DNA should help.”

“Double?” Santos asked, looking over his shoulder at his cousin. “What do you

mean, double?”

Emilio gave him a look that said it all.

“What the fuck?” He looked at Emilio, and then back down at Lonnie. Wolves bit

when they fought. They bit when they fucked. Both were wholly separate acts. No, Emilio
wouldn’t have to fuck Lonnie, but since they weren’t enemies, it would create a bond
between them. While he didn’t mind Lonnie getting to know his cousin, a bond was

something he didn’t want to happen.

That was for him alone.

“What if I bit him multiple times?” Santos asked. “Would that work?”

It worked for those fucking Darlings when they were out to kill Lonnie. But then

again, there had been two of them. Santos railed against the idea of Emilio biting Lonnie.
His wolf wanted to maul his cousin.

“You could try to bite him a few times.” There was a sympathetic look in Emilio’s

dark eyes. One that said he didn’t fancy the idea of biting Lonnie. Santos was glad they
were on the same page or he might just have to hurt the man.

Santos gazed over Lonnie’s wolf. He wasn’t sure where to bite. A mouth full of fur

was guaranteed, but what did he care at this point? The only thing that mattered was saving
him, trying to get him through this with as little pain as possible.

Taking in a deep breath, Santos bit Lonnie in his shoulder, hating that he was

adding pain. But the wolf didn’t whimper, didn’t whine, didn’t do a damn thing. Lonnie
just lay there, unresponsive.

Santos got as much of his saliva into Lonnie as he could, but the wolf didn’t even

open his eyes. “Bite him on the hind leg,” he said, feeling the anger rolling through him. He
knew it was going to take two people to heal the man. It was evident his bite alone wasn’t
going to help. “Make it fucking quick.”

Emilio hesitated.

Lonnie whimpered.

Santos breathed a sigh of relief.

“Still want me to bite him?”

Santos glowered at Emilio. “Fuck no.” He lifted Lonnie out of the water, taking him

back to the bedroom where he lay the animal down, pulling the covers over him. His legs
kicked, his mouth opened, and then Lonnie fell silent.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Again, Santos had never met anyone who

had survived multiple bites from Darlings. “Can you sever their heads so I don’t have to
look at them?”

Emilio moved into the room, doing as Santos asked. The bodies turned to ash. As he

lay there on the bed next to the dread-head, Santos knew the only thing that had prompted
the attack was someone giving those two bastards a payday.

Striker.

The man had tried to blow Santos’s cousin up. Now he tried to kill Lonnie.

Something was going to have to be done about the new alpha of the Durango clan. Santos
had a few ideas, dismemberment being at the top of that list. Disembowelment was second.
He wanted to string the man up by his entrails as a warning to anyone else who fucked with
the people he cared about.

A heavy sigh left his chest. There was no denying that he cared about Lonnie. The

little shit had weaseled his way under Santos’s skin and was wrapping his dread-like
tentacles around Santos’s heart.

Fuck me and all things edible. He was falling for the guy. The retreating footfall

told him that Emilio had left the room. He knew his cousin wouldn’t go far, though. This
place was a hotspot right now and there was no telling how many Darlings Striker had paid.

Santos would really love for another to show his ugly mug. He was in such a foul

mood that he would thoroughly enjoy killing the Darling.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, the next day, when Lonnie finally began to open his

eyes. He had shifted back to his human form earlier that morning, but he still hadn’t woken
up. As his eyelids fluttered, Santos watched, his hand on Lonnie’s head just in case the man
freaked out. It would be a normal reaction after such a violent attack. The other Dark Riders
were in the living room, all waiting to hear anything about Lonnie. Garrett had come in the
bedroom multiple times, checking on his best friend. The man was out for blood when he
had heard what happened.

They all were.

It seemed Lonnie had men who cared deeply about him, that included Falcon and

Emilio, along with Zane. Santos ran his hand down Lonnie’s arm, giving him a comforting
smile. “How do you feel?”

“Like a chew toy.” The unshed tears in Lonnie’s eyes said it all. Santos had never

seen the man cry. The dread-head had always been feisty, mouthy, and downright sexy. But
he had never seen this vulnerable side before. He pulled Lonnie close, holding him tight as
he rested his chin on the man’s head, letting Lonnie silently cry.

His slim body shook and Santos—in that quiet, despondent moment where he held a

man who was becoming the most important person in his world—swore he was going to
kill Striker if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter Ten

Lonnie clung to Santos, still feeling the residual effects of the pain that had seized

his body. He hated that he was breaking down, crying in front of this man. Lonnie tried his
best to never cry, not since leaving home and starting a new life, since kicking his drug
habit and opening the shop with Rett.

“I’m sorry.” Lonnie wiped at his nose. “I don’t normally fall apart in the arms of a

man who I’ve slept with.”

A deep and low chuckle vibrated in Santos’s chest. “I think we can make an

exception.”

Pushing away, Lonnie gazed up at Santos, feeling the emotional bond that was

growing stronger between them. He glanced away, trying his hardest not to feel…anything.

“How long are you going to do that?” Santos’s hand gripped his hair, tugging gently

at the strands.

“Do what?”

“Pretend, Lonnie.” Santos tugged again until Lonnie was gazing up at him. “Pretend

that nothing is between us, that you and I aren’t connecting?”

“Oh, god, you’ve gone and made this personal,” Lonnie teased. He had to make

light of the conversation because he couldn’t deal with anything heavy right now. “Please
don’t tell me you want matching towels, because I air dry.”

“Stop it.” Santos growled and Lonnie felt the roughness of his tone scrape over his

skin. “Stop joking, for now. I’m being serious.”

He felt a thousand tiny pinpricks roll down his spine as the man tugged his hair

harder, his jaw set firmly. “I told you that you were mine to protect. But we both know it
goes deeper than that.”

“Not if we don’t want it to,” Lonnie argued, but had a feeling he was wasting his

breath. There was no stopping whatever this was. He knew this. It was like a snowball
rolling down a hill. What was happening between them was growing larger, stronger, and
that scared him.

Santos’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you so damn afraid to admit what we got going

on between us?” Santos rolled, pinning Lonnie under the man’s massive weight and that’s
when he realized that not only was he naked, but so was Santos. “Why are you running
scared?”

Lonnie placed the palms of his hands on Santos’s hot, hard chest. It was the only

barrier he could put between them. “Because only fools and old people fall in love.”

His lips curled in the moment the words escaped his lips and Lonnie wished to god

he could take them back. Santos’s eyes widened. He so hadn’t meant to reveal that little
tidbit of information. Lonnie was still trying to process it himself.

“I disagree.”

“You would.” Lonnie glanced at his hands, seeing the stark difference between his

light, latte complexion and Santos’s darker one. He concentrated on that, ignoring the
heated look he knew the man was giving him.

“Everything doesn’t have to be an argument between us, Lonnie.” Santos moved his

head closer, his soft lips skimming leisurely over Lonnie’s bare shoulder. “There are some
things we can agree on, mi amante apasionado.”

Lonnie shivered as Santos’s lips moved to his ear and sharp teeth nipped his lobe.

“We can turn your fire into pleasure.”

He was stunned by the dark beauty of Santos’s words. He clasped Lonnie’s wrists

together and had them pinned above his head before Lonnie could gasp in a breath. “Mine
to protect.” The comment held a predatory wolf’s pleasure at cornering his prey. “And mine
to pleasure.”

Rolling his hips, he felt the hard shaft against his abdomen. Lonnie spread his legs

wider, feeling his balls already drawn up tight to his body. Santos bit the side of Lonnie’s
neck hard enough to mark but not hurt. “Mine to love.”

Lonnie froze. His chest was moving faster now, his breaths coming out in shallow

pants.

“Does that surprise you?” Santos licked his jaw. “It shocks the hell out of me.” His

tone was rough, low, and dark. “But I accept what I feel for you. Do you?”

Sliding his tongue over his lower lip, Lonnie glanced down at Santos’s chest. “I

admit, there’s something there.”

A growl climbed up the man’s throat. “Keep hiding, little one. Sooner or later, you

will admit your feelings for me, and not by a slip of the tongue.”

Trying his best to change the subject, to distract Santos, Lonnie leaned up and

licked the man’s skin right above his heart. He bucked, their cocks sliding together as
Santos groaned.

“You fight dirty.” His voice was rough, hot, exquisite. A low purr vibrated against

Lonnie’s chest, shocking sensation down his aroused body.

Every nerve ending quivered in need so deep it almost hurt. He began to rub himself

over Santos like a cat in heat, moaning at the hot feel of the man’s body.

“I see my pup is hungry.” Santos’s tone was so damn deep and seductive that

Lonnie was growing hotter. Santos released his hands right before Lonnie slid them over
the guy’s well-rounded ass, curving his fingers in until his nails were biting skin.

“Please, Santos.” Lonnie’s skin was pulsing with need, his body writhing

underneath the large man. “Don’t make me beg.”

Santos made a throaty sound as he pushed himself down Lonnie’s body, his lips

leaving behind a searing trail of kisses and licks. Lonnie’s head swam, his legs shaky as
Santos moved lower and lower. The man was murmuring something, but it was only sound
to Lonnie’s ears, nothing coherent and not in English.

Lonnie jerked, his breath coming out in shallow gasps, his cock hard and erect.

Santos licked around his navel, his tongue sensually dancing along the fine hairs that ran
from his abdomen to his shaved groin area. He was going out of his mind and Santos
wouldn’t taste him. The man was only teasing him.

A cry left his lips when Santos placed his hands on the back of Lonnie’s thighs and

raised his bottom, licking along the underside of his sac. His hands fisted the sheets, his
head lolling to the side. Lonnie could feel himself trembling and it was only the start of
things.

He let Santos maneuver him, let him spread his cheeks, let him taste him in his most

intimate area on his body. Lonnie just…let him. The man took full advantage of Lonnie’s
body and Lonnie learned just how sensual a lover the wolf shifter could be.

There was nothing snarky or biting in him at the moment. Santos was nothing but

liquid pleasure. He ran over Lonnie in hot currents, heating him up to the point he thought
he was going to melt. Santos took Lonnie’s erection into his mouth, savored it, tasted it,

and brought Lonnie to the edge as Lonnie saw stars.

He gasped, cried out, arched his back as he sank into Santos. There was nothing

tentative about his moves. Every trace of his fingers screamed possession. That should have
scared him, made him want to run, but all Lonnie could do was fall into the man, bathe in
his scent, and drown in his carnal touch.

Santos rose up, climbing back over Lonnie, his cock pressing between Lonnie’s ass

cheeks. “I knew once wasn’t going to be enough.”

Lonnie’s head fell back when Santos’s lubed fingers breached him. He bent his legs,

spreading them wider as the man stretched his body. Lonnie didn’t care about keeping up
with the man this time. He didn’t care if Santos was more than he could handle. All he
knew was that he didn’t want the man to stop.

Sliding his fingers free, Santos lubed his cock and then pressed the head against

Lonnie’s entrance. “Never going to be enough,” he whispered as he surged forward.

“Santos!” Lonnie cried out, wrapping his legs around the man’s thick waist. Having

the man inside of him was like a carnal kiss. They were joined at the most intimate level.

“I love hearing my name on your lips.” Santos nipped Lonnie’s shoulder, his tongue

playing havoc with Lonnie’s nerve endings. His large hand was pressing into Lonnie’s
back, the other curved around Lonnie’s hip.

Santos rotated his hips, pushing and pulling, shooting Lonnie close to the edge, and

then bringing him back. He almost had Lonnie pinned to the bed, enclosing him in pure
muscle as Santos made slow, sweet love to him.

Lonnie surged forward, meeting Santos’s thrusts, his fingers grabbing the man’s

shoulders and holding on. Santos pulled out almost all the way and then surged deep.

The tingling sensation crept up Lonnie’s spine, threatening to shatter his very mind.

Santos took his lips in a kiss so hungry that Lonnie felt consumed. He accepted the man’s
hunger, his need, as his body splintered into a thousand pieces of pleasure.

Santos growled, thrusting so hard that Lonnie could no longer keep up. He was lost

in his climax, clinging to Santos with the last vestige of consciousness.

His moves were deep, fast, and had Lonnie arching his back as Santos came, his

muscles shuddering under Lonnie’s hands before the man let out a rough shout.

The pleasure had replaced the pain, leaving Lonnie sweaty and panting for breath.

Santos curled around him, like a big cat content with himself. A smile pulled at the side of
Lonnie’s mouth.

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen between the two of them, but he’d just

discovered that Santos was a big cuddle bunny.

And secretly, Lonnie’s knight in shining armor.

* * * *

“I swear to god, you get on my nerves!”

Emilio watched with amusement as Lonnie and Santos went at it again. They were

very entertaining. The little guy had spunk, he’d give him that. No one usually went up
against Santos. Not with his massive size and badass attitude. Most men ran the other way,
and those were men who were a lot bigger than Lonnie.

“One more word from you and I’ll string you up by your fucking toenails,” Santos

warned.

“What are they fighting about now?” Garrett asked as he leaned his arms on the

counter, resting his chin on his fists. There was amusement in the man’s hazel eyes.

“Lonnie wants to run to Mr. McAlester’s…alone.”

“Ah.” The single word from Garrett’s lips said it all.

“He thinks that since he is a wolf now, he can chew anyone who crosses him to

pieces.” Emilio’s eyes snapped over to the door when Jake walked in. The human paused,
stared between Lonnie and Santos, and then shook his head, walking over to the counter.

“My parents hated each other and they didn’t fight this much.” Jake stowed his

backpack under the register. “What are they fighting about now?”

“We’re not fighting.” Lonnie stormed away from Santos. “I’m doing what the hell I

want to do and Santos is strongly disagreeing. Don’t worry kids, Daddy and I aren’t getting
a divorce.”

Emilio hid his smile when Santos slammed his hand into the glass-and-chrome door

and walked outside. He’d never seen his cousin this worked up when it came to a guy. It
was refreshing to see him so passionate.

Insane, but passionate.

He had worried for the longest time after they were converted that Santos wouldn’t

learn to live again. He had been filled with hate, regret, and a hell of a lot of rage. The man
had mellowed over the decades, but that spark that he used to have had been missing.

It was back now, and in full Santos mode.

“Maybe they should just have sex and get it over with,” Jake said offhandedly.

“You can see the volatile attraction between them.”

Emilio leaned in close. “They already have.”

Jake looked stunned. “Why is it I miss out on all the juicy gossip?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jake.” Lonnie flipped his hair over his shoulder. “You didn’t miss

out on much.”

Emilio wasn’t really sure how to take that statement. Santos hadn’t said a word on

what had happened after the conversion had taken place, and Lonnie wasn’t very
forthcoming. Did that mean his cousin sucked in bed? Did he really want to know?

Hell no.

Emilio shook his head and walked outside, seeing Santos sitting on the top step. He

took a seat two steps down from the guy, tapping his cousin’s shoulders with his fist.

“I swear,” Santos said before letting out a heavy sigh. “Some days I don’t know

whether to drown him or fuck him.”

Emilio gave a low chuckle. “You and I both know you would never hurt him,

much.” He stared down at his boots, and then out toward the street below. “That’s more
than I can say for Striker.”

“I can’t believe he tried to blow you up,” Santos grumbled with barely contained

rage. “And I can’t believe he sent those Darlings after Lonnie.”

“He sucks as an alpha, but he has bigger balls than Callahan ever had.” Emilio

picked up a small pebble that was lying by his feet and tossed it down the step. “I have a
feeling he isn’t finished with us yet.”

“And he’s gone into hiding,” Santos finished. “Fucking coward.” His cousin stood,

tromping down the steps toward his bike. Santos checked the thing from head to toe before
climbing on. It pissed Emilio off that they even had to do that.

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna go grab us some food.”

In other words, Lonnie was hungry so, to keep the new convert safe, Santos was

going to do the food run. Dude just didn’t know how bad he had it. If Santos and Lonnie
would shut up long enough, they would figure out that they were falling pretty damn hard
for each other.

But, Emilio wasn’t getting in that shit. No way. That would be like stepping into a

cage with a lion and a gazelle with balls the size of Rhode Island.

He just hoped Santos hurried up. Emilio was starving.

Chapter Eleven

Detective Jack Tate stared at the body that was pulled from the Dumpster behind

Ruby Red. He could only shake his head at the tragic loss of life. The kid couldn’t be more
than eighteen, maybe nineteen.

And he was a gangbanger from the black teardrop under his left eye. He swept with

the mini flashlight around the Dumpster. Coroner was on his way to get the body, now
there was nothing left for him to do but look for clues around the scene. Crime scene techs
had already swept the alley and Dumpster, but Jack tried not to leave a stone unturned.

People were human and things got botched all the time.

“Nobody saw a thing,” Detective Ames said as he approached Jack. His partner

looked rumpled, like he’d just fallen out of bed and landed here in this alley. His brown
hair was standing on end, his tie loose. His jacket looked like he had slept in it.

That only told Jack that Ames and his wife were at it again, arguing. More than

likely, Ames had been sleeping on the couch.

“Nobody ever does,” Jack replied as he squatted down, the beam of light crossing

under the Dumpster. He heard the roar of a motorcycle. Not the old-school kind, like a
Harley, but those new, faster ones.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Santos Alverez close to the mouth of the alley,

staring at them before he slowly pulled away.

“Those Dark Riders.” Ames shook his head. “Between the Mancinni brothers and

the Alverez cousins, I’m not sure who to pin this one on.”

Jack’s gut told him more was going on here than met the eye. Santos Alverez was

too smart to come back to the scene of the crime. He also knew that Falcon and Zane
Mancinni wouldn’t be this sloppy. He’d been watching the gang far too long.

He also knew that there was heightened activity with the Hearts gang. Some

medium-rank scum was recruiting them from the Upper West Side. But so far, no one knew
who the guy was or what he wanted with gang members.

Jack was going to find out. He didn’t like things unsettling his territory. If

something big was about to go down, he was going to know what and stop the shit before it
even got started.

Too bad Bandit wasn’t panning out. The kid knew nothing and everyone was being

careful around him at Andromeda. Jack wasn’t going to hold his breath with that source.

A smile formed on Jack’s face when he looked down the alley and saw a bank, the

ATM sitting right there in plain view. Now maybe they were going to get somewhere.
“Ames, I want the tape from that ATM first thing after the bank opens up.”

“You got it.”

He sure as hell hoped he did.

* * * *

Lonnie and Rett danced in sync with each other as Lonnie rapped to the song

playing on the radio. He loved old-style rapping. His best friend was beat boxing as Lonnie
recited the lyrics flawlessly. Jake was laughing as he stood behind the counter.

Emilio was sitting on the couch, tapping his hands on his jean-clad thighs, trying to

keep up with the beat, a wide grin slashed across his face.

Lonnie was using the empty paper towel roll as a mic. He loved cutting lose and

having fun. It felt like forever since he and Rett had done something like this. They used to
do it all the time. Maybe it was because they were getting older, or maybe it was because so
much was going on in their lives. But just being themselves and cutting up felt damn good
after all the shit Lonnie had been through.

“You are talented as hell!” Jake said when the song was over. “I heard about you

playing bass guitar at Ruby Red. Why didn’t you ever get into music?”

“And I’m chopped liver?” Rett asked, as if offended. Lonnie knew he wasn’t. Jake

opened his mouth to say something when Santos walked in carrying two large bags filled
with takeout containers. Lonnie was starving. He tossed the roll aside and grabbed the first
bag.

“Slow down,” Santos said. “That bag is attached to my fingers.” Lonnie was already

setting the bag on the counter, digging through the containers until he found his order.

Falcon and Zane walked in, grabbing some food as well. As he ate, Lonnie glanced

around at everyone and realized just how much his life was changing. He remembered
warning Rett about the men who had hung out at the Dirty Hole. Now they were hanging
out at their place.

Even their relationship with Jake had changed. He was now their employee. As he

watched, he listened to the camaraderie between the men. He could actually feel the bond
between Falcon and his men.

When Lonnie looked over at Santos, he saw the guy watching him, his eyes

tenebrous. Lonnie glanced down at his food, feeling the hard thump of his heart. He’d never
fallen for a guy, not like this. Every time he spotted Santos, Lonnie felt his pulse quicken,
butterflies in his stomach, and as insane and asinine as it sounded, he wanted to scribble his
first name and attach Santos’s last name.

God, he had it bad. It was like a tornado, a blast of the sun, and an explosion, all

rolled into one. That’s how Santos was making him feel. Lonnie had never given his heart
to anyone and, as hard as he tried, couldn’t seem to stop the process from happening.

Santos was in him now, like a drug swimming through his veins. “You gonna eat

those?” Emilio asked as he stared at the piled-high fries on Lonnie’s container.

Pushing the container toward Emilio, Lonnie’s eyes skittered back over to Santos to

see the man still watching him closely, those dark, scarab eyes deep in thought.

They’d slept together, Santos had saved his life, and the two acted like they wanted

to kill each other most of the time, but one small intense look from Santos had Lonnie
feeling hot and bothered, uncertain and scared. He didn’t know where to settle his eyes, his
hands, his thoughts.

Santos stood, carrying his tray to the trash, brushing his hip into Lonnie’s shoulder.

His wolf panted in want. His heart skipped a beat. His cock started to thicken. Zane was
looking at him, a knowing gleam in his eyes as the side of his mouth twitched.

The big bear headed down the hallway, Lonnie assuming he was either going to

wash his hands or use the bathroom. He stood, walked over to the counter, piddled around
for a moment, and then moved slowly down the hallway, not wanting anyone to suspect
what he was up to.

As soon as he hit the back room, Santos had him pinned to the counter by the easel,

out of everyone’s eyesight. “Every fucking wolf in that room is choking on the scent of

your lust.”

He snarled the words as if it was a bad thing—like he didn’t want anyone to know

just how much Lonnie wanted the guy. How had he totally forgotten about scent? He had
smelled something sweet and spicy, but Lonnie had assumed it was the food.

There was a lot to learn about being a wolf.

His gums burned, itched, and the next thing Lonnie knew, his canines were growing

long. They became too much to contain, growing until the tips were touching his bottom
lip. Santos’s nostrils flared as his eyes dropped to Lonnie’s mouth. “You want to bite me,
don’t you?”

In the worst possible way.

Santos manacled Lonnie’s wrists, sliding them up the wall and pinning them over

his head. He shoved his nose into Lonnie’s neck, sniffing and licking his way around his
neck before the man’s tongue licked a light trail around his ear. Lonnie’s lips parted, his
eyes rolled, and his cock was so damn hard it hurt.

He inhaled sharply when Santos nipped his neck. Santos gave a low, menacing

growl and it took moments for Lonnie to focus before he realized what the man was
growling at.

Or more specifically, who.

Jake was standing there, blinking at them before he pointed his finger down the

hallway. “Detective is here.”

Lonnie cursed. He wasn’t good at this wolf thing yet and his canines were showing.

Thank goodness Santos had moved to block him, stopping Jake from seeing what he wasn’t
supposed to see.

“Give us a minute,” Santos said.

“I’m hiding in the bathroom,” Jake said. “Cops scare me.”

When the bathroom door closed, Santos gazed down at him. His heated eyes were

not helping Lonnie. He knew he had to pull himself together, but it was damn near
impossible when Santos looked good enough to eat.

“Breathe, Lonnie,” he whispered. “Concentrate on retracting your gorgeous fucking

canines.”

“That’s not helping, dumbass.” Lonnie pulled his wrists free and moved from under

Santos’s large body, pushing toward the easel as he took in deep breaths. He ran his hands
up and down his arms, as if cold, staring at the picture he had started earlier, concentrating
on the fine lines and shadows.

Lonnie winced when Santos cuffed him on the back of the head. “What the hell did

you do that for?”

Santos smirked at him before turning. “It worked.”

It had. His canines were no longer long and sharp. Even his cock was back to its

flaccid state. “Moron.”

“Loudmouth pain in the ass,” Santos replied before heading back up the hallway.

Lonnie grinned to himself. He heard Falcon’s deep, smooth voice talking, and wondered
why the detective was back.

Inching closer to the corner wall, he peeked around to see Falcon standing there, his

hair long and loose, talking with the detective who looked too wound up.

“So, you’re telling me you had nothing to do with that body in the alley?” the

detective barked. “I could toss this place.”

“Got a warrant?” Falcon asked.

Lonnie groaned. That was the downside to dealing with the Dark Riders. It seemed

the cops were a little too interested in this shop now. Or more to the point, Detective Jack
Tate was interested in giving them a hard time. He didn’t like cops. They made him
nervous. The few times he had dealt with them, it hadn’t been in his favor.

Not that Lonnie got into trouble. He had run from home a few times, trying to get

away. But the cops had always brought him home when they found him, believing the
bullshit lies his old man had fed them. Not once did they believe Lonnie when he told them
his old man was abusing him, beating him with anything he could get his hands on. Not
once did they intervene when Lonnie had said the guy touched him in places a father
shouldn’t be touching a son.

Cops could go to hell.

Just as that last thought crossed his mind, Detective Tate glanced his way. Lonnie

knew that if he moved back behind the wall, the guy would come down the hallway. He
walked out, going to the front of the shop.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about a dead body dumped in the alley behind

Ruby Red?” The question was cynical.

“Oh, yeah,” Lonnie said. “I use that as my dumping grounds for everything. Did

you find the vampire I tossed back there as well?” he asked sarcastically.

Falcon smirked.

Santos rolled his eyes.

Rett palmed his face, shaking his head.

“Smart-ass,” the detective grumbled before turning back to the other men in the

room. Lonnie stuck his tongue out at the guy. It was the only thing he could do without
getting into trouble.

“You wanna pat me down, cop?” Zane asked, winking at Detective Tate. “I got

illegal things in my front pockets. Be careful though, something in there just might poke
you.”

“I doubt that.” The detective pulled out a piece of gum and shoved it into his mouth,

his grey eyes assessing them all. “Something is going on in my city and I’m going to find
out what it is. If any of you men are involved, I’m going to make sure you never see the
light of day again.”

Lonnie watched the man leave, the doorbell chiming as he walked out. Everyone

was quiet.

“I’d say that went rather well,” Lonnie commented before sitting on the stool behind

the counter. “So glad he is trying to pin you guys for every goddamn crime that happens
around here.”

“Not you,” Falcon corrected him. “Us.”

“I haven’t seen one fucking cop around here since me and Rett opened this shop.

All the sudden, you guys start hanging around here and I feel like I should start serving
coffee and donuts.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Emilio asked. “We didn’t commit any crimes.”

Lonnie eyed the man.

“Okay, none he can pin on us,” Emilio corrected.

“Look, guido,” he said as he glared at Emilio. “Since you guys started coming

around, the heat has been all over us. I hate cops. I hate them with a passion and one of
them might as well set up camp here.”

Santos moved forward until he was standing right next to Lonnie, his eyes blazing

mad. Lonnie didn’t care at this point. What he was saying was true. “What, you going to
cuff me on the head again?” He stood, squaring his shoulders at Santos. “Go ahead. Then
I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk for a year!”

“Enough,” Falcon’s voice was low, lethal. “We are Dark Riders and we stick

together. We don’t tear each other’s throats out.”

“Is that a wolf joke?” Lonnie asked. “I didn’t even ask to be converted. I was

attacked by those bastard Darlings and the next thing I know, I’m a wolf shifter.”

It was all coming to a head and Lonnie felt like he was going to explode. He wasn’t

sure why he was getting so riled up. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t their fault. He held his
hands up, shaking his head. “I’m just tired. I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Go home,” Rett said. “Get some rest. I think we could all use some.”

“You’re not going home alone,” Santos said. Lonnie gazed up at the man,

wondering if fighting against him was even worth it. His heart was no longer his. Santos
had stolen it.

“Fine.”

* * * *

Glancing around the shop to make sure no one was watching him, Bandit pulled the

voice-activated recorder out from its hiding spot behind the register and shoved it into his
pocket.

Chapter Twelve

Santos stood in the record shop, glancing around. Ernest had called him and said the

guy with the rare second song ever recorded by Mississippi blues legend Robert Johnson
was coming by.

He had jumped at the chance, heading straight over here. But Ernest wasn’t

anywhere in sight. The old man was usually prattling on behind the counter, or sitting there
on his stool, listening to the soulful sounds of jazz.

The subtle scent of Darling wafted his way and Santos felt his heart thumping hard

in his chest.

God, please don’t let them have hurt Ernest.

“This place smells like old newspaper.” Lonnie waved his hand in front of his nose,

and then stilled, inhaling a little deeper. His eyes widened as he looked up at Santos.
“Darlings,” he whispered.

Pulling his nine millimeter from inside his leather, Santos crept toward the back of

the shop. If one of those Darlings had hurt the old man, Santos was going to open war on
their asses. They had attacked Lonnie, and Santos wanted them all dead, but the record
store owner was vulnerable and frail, and wouldn’t be able to survive a Darling attack.
There was something about Ernest that reminded Santos of his father when he was alive,
before he took his own life.

The closer he approached the back of the store, the stronger the scent of blood

became. Santos was too terrified to go back there, afraid of what he was going to find. He’d
known Ernest since the man had opened the record store in the late sixties. As the years
progressed and Ernest aged, but Santos didn’t, the man had never said one word about
Santos’s appearance. He never once hinted at a question.

Men like Ernest were rare these days. The man accepted Santos the way he was,

always welcomed him in with a ready smile and excitement about his latest find.

With a shaky hand, Santos pushed the door open that led to the back room that

Ernest used for storage and to take his breaks sometimes.

The odor became a hell of a lot stronger, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.

Santos’s throat tightened into an incredible knot, making it hard to swallow and even
breathe when he spotted Ernest on the floor, lying in a thick pool of his own blood.

Lonnie gasped.

Jaw clenching tighter than granite, Santos felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes. His

fingers clenched harder on the gun as his eyes took in the horrific scene. The memory of
Ernest’s easy laughter floated to his ears, his kind smile blurring Santos’s vision. In all the
time he had known the guy, the man had never once gotten angry, raised his voice, or
complained.

He was one of the good guys.

And now he was gone.

“Santos.” Lonnie grabbed him, holding his face. “Stop.”

He hadn’t even realized that his fist was pounding the wall, putting a large hole in

the plaster. The anger was too much to hold, too volatile for one man to carry. He had
brought Lonnie here to not only introduce him to a better quality of music, but to kind of
show him off to Ernest.

Ernest would have liked Lonnie.

He turned, gazing down at the man he had cared so much about and felt his body

racking with sobs. Lonnie grabbed him, held him, rocked him. “I’m so sorry.”

Santos clung to the man, feeling as if he were losing his father all over again. He

hugged Lonnie tight, for once, allowing himself to be vulnerable, to accept the solace
Lonnie was offering.

“We’ll make them pay,” Lonnie vowed in his ear. “We’ll find out who did this and

make the motherfucker pay.”

Santos pulled back, wiping at his eyes before he slid his gun back into the inner

pocket of his jacket. “We have to get out of here.” But he didn’t want to leave Ernest like
this. The man deserved so much better. He knew they needed to get ghost, but it was hard
as fuck to leave him lying there on the concrete floor.

They both turned when sirens could be heard off in the distance. It dawned on

Santos that he was being set up. Someone had killed Ernest, waited until Santos arrived,
and then called the cops.

“We have to go.” Lonnie pulled on his arm. “Detective Jackass is chomping at the

bit to pin something on us.”

Santos bent to one knee, balling his hands into fists as he stared at lifeless brown

eyes that had once danced with merriment and life. “I’m sorry you got involved in this, old
man. But I swear to you, on my honor, that whoever did this, he’ll pay dearly.”

Santos rose and then he and Lonnie took off from the store, racing away from the

scene as cold, hard revenge settled in his chest.

* * * *

Falcon got the call at two in the morning. Santos and Lonnie were down at

Pandora’s Box—a hotspot for Darlings—tearing the place apart. The owner had called
Falcon as a favor instead of calling the cops, but someone in the club was going to call the
police because Santos and Lonnie were out of control.

He and Zane drove as fast as they could through the night, their bikes pushing the

limits. Falcon didn’t know what had set the Dark Rider off, but it had to be bad. Santos
didn’t normally lose control like this.

And Lonnie? That was shocking…and it wasn’t. The small guy had a spine of steel

and Falcon could just see him going off. But Santos and Lonnie were in this together. What
the fuck had happened?

They pulled into the lot at the club not fifteen minutes after getting the call. Falcon

could see rubberneckers trying to gawk into the club while others were running out.

He and Zane pushed past the crowd, hearing the shouts and screams inside. As

Falcon passed the owner of Pandora’s Box, he handed the man a roll of large bills to cover
the damage and loss of business.

There was a thick wall of people off in the back. Falcon and Zane headed that way.

He shoved the partiers aside until he was standing there in stunned disbelief. It wasn’t
Santos who had anyone hemmed up, beating the shit out of them.

No, it was Lonnie. The little dread-head was wailing on some Darling, his canines

pronounced and showing as Santos slammed his fist into some random guy who had tried
to intervene and help the Darling.

“Who set Santos up?” Lonnie screamed in the Darling’s face. “Who?”

Falcon waved the two bouncers over who looked totally lost at what to do. “Clear

this place out.”

They nodded, looking relieved that they could put their skills to use. The crowd

started to thin as Falcon grabbed Santos’s beefy arm, stopping him from punching another
guy. “What the fuck is going on?”

Santos’s eyes had gone wolf. They practically glowed amber as his head snapped

around, baring his canines until he saw who it was preventing him from pounding the guy.

Lonnie slugged the Darling again, kneed the guy, and then let his claws slide free.

This was a fucking mess.

Thankfully the bouncers had done their job and cleared the place out. The owner,

and his employees, were all wolf shifters. They belonged to the Durango clan, loosely. He
knew the owner didn’t hold any loyalties to Callahan, and he sure as shit didn’t hold any to
Striker. The guy pretty much operated on his own, steering clear of clan business.

“The compensation is appreciated,” the owner said to Falcon, “but I want to know

why in the hell your guys are here tearing my place apart.”

Falcon wanted to know the same thing. “I’ll let you know when their business is

complete.” Even though he had no clue what was going on, he had Santos and Lonnie’s
back. He eyed the bouncers, telling them without words to fuck off.

The owner snapped his fingers and the bouncers went outside. Falcon turned back

toward Santos. “Mind telling me why you and the Terminator are busting this club apart?”

“A Darling killed Ernest.”

Falcon knew who Ernest was. He’d never been to the shop, but knew the bond

Santos had with the human. They’d been friends for over fifty years.

Shit. This was not good.

Falcon wouldn’t stop Lonnie from seeking revenge in Santos’s name. As a matter of

fact, he had a new respect for the man. Lonnie may act like he wanted to kill Santos most of
the time, but when it came down to the bare bones of things, Lonnie had Santos’s back.

Steel spine and loyalty.

“I don’t know who called Santos,” the Darling said right before Lonnie shoved a

claw into the man’s side. The Darling screamed and then tried to bite Lonnie. Falcon jerked
forward, ready to kill the guy, but Lonnie was quick, dodging sharp teeth.

Santos finally walked over, said something low in Lonnie’s ear, and then moved the

small guy aside. Falcon could see that Lonnie really wasn’t cut out for this kind of
interrogation because he had panic in his eyes, a kind of sickening realization of what he
had just done.

But anger was a powerful motivator. It made even the meekest men go crazy and do

things that wouldn’t have normally been done. It wasn’t in Lonnie’s genetic makeup to hurt
anyone, yet when Santos was hurting, the guy went nuts.

Now Santos on the other hand…

Santos shoved a claw in the man’s gut and began an upward ascent, slowly opening

the guy up. “Tell me who killed the old man at the record shop!”

The Darling screamed his head off, writhing around as he tried to get free.

“Marcus!” the guy shouted. “Striker paid Marcus Keiffer to kill the guy!” The guy shook,
his eyes pleading with Santos to let him go. “M–Marcus called and said he had that rare
record. He called the owner and said he was coming in!”

Santos finished what he had started, and then severed the Darling’s head.

“Looks like we find Marcus,” Falcon said.

The owner of Pandora’s Box whistled low. “Marcus is one tough son of a bitch.

Most Darlings are cowards, but Marcus…” The guy shook his head.

“Where can I find him?” Falcon asked. He knew Santos wouldn’t rest until he

avenged his friend’s death. If he knew the guy, Santos had given a vow—which meant he
wasn’t going to stop until Marcus was dead.

“He runs an illegal dog-fighting ring over on Sycamore.” The owner rattled off the

address. “Be careful. Marcus is a lying sack of shit who is underhanded and not to be
trusted.”

Weren’t all Darlings?

Zane wrapped his arm around Lonnie, talking softly to him as the short guy nodded

numbly. He wasn’t sure what his twin was saying, but within seconds a weak smile
appeared on Lonnie’s face.

They pushed through the crowd that was still gathered outside. Falcon felt the hairs

on the back of his neck rise as he swung around seconds too late. Someone from the crowd
shoved a blade into Zane’s side, twisting the knife as he shouted, “That’s from Striker!”

Falcon howled as he grabbed the man around his throat, slamming into the concrete

building. He was ready to rip the bastard’s throat out when Detective Tate appeared at his
side, ripping the guy from Falcon’s hands.

“You’re under arrest,” he said to the shifter. “I saw what the fuck you just did.”

Falcon was seething that he couldn’t kill the shifter that had just attacked Zane.

Instead, he was shoved into the back of a police car, an evil smirk on his face.

Santos was already picking Zane up from off the ground, hurrying him back inside

Pandora’s Box. Detective Tate was rushing inside as well, his partner, Ames, staying with
the car.

“I’m calling in an ambulance,” Tate said.

“No!” Falcon snarled as he rounded on the man. “You can’t.”

The cop stood there looking confused and then he narrowed his eyes at Falcon.

“Why the hell not? Your twin is stabbed and you don’t want an ambulance? What the fuck
is going on?”

Falcon shoved the guy hard in his chest, terrified that the punk who stabbed Zane

had done irreparable damage. Shifters could heal, but the thought of anyone hurting Zane
had Falcon losing control. “Back the fuck off. I don’t need this shit from you right now.”

Falcon made his way to the back of the club, but Tate stayed hot on his heels.

Something was going to have to be done about this bothersome cop. He was getting just a
little too nosey in Dark Rider business.

Chapter Thirteen

Lonnie sat in the back of the club, shaking. He still couldn’t believe he had attacked

that Darling. Granted, the guy was a Darling, but he’d never purposefully hurt anyone in his
life.

He kept staring at his hand where his claws had shot out and embedded in the man’s

body. The guy had deserved it, and so much more, but Lonnie wasn’t…

“Come here.” Santos pulled Lonnie close, putting a wall of muscle around him,

cocooning Lonnie into the safety of his body. He couldn’t stop shaking.

Santos’s large hands moved up and down Lonnie’s back, soothing him as Falcon

worked on Zane. This night had gone to fuck, and fast. He hadn’t meant for any of this to
happen, but the death of Ernest had driven all logical thought from Santos’s head.

Now Tate stood there, watching as Falcon stitched his twin back together like a mad

scientist. The cop didn’t say a word, but his eyes kept flickering from Zane, over to Santos.
The guy knew something was going on but had no proof.

A large hand ran over the top of his hair before Santos dropped a kiss there. Lonnie

was finally calming, the shakes slowly subsiding, although he couldn’t get the look of
horror on the Darling’s face out of his mind.

What kind of a wuss was he that he fell apart after attacking the same men who had

repeatedly attacked him? They had nearly killed him, came after him in his apartment,
snuck through his window at work and bit him, yet he felt sorry for the one he had been
brutally questioning.

Lonnie was starting to get pissed when Tate kept looking over at them, some

strange expression in his eyes. And why wasn’t the man demanding that Zane go to the
hospital? He just kept standing there like he was assisting Falcon, only his hands were
shoved deep into his front pockets.

“He knows something,” Lonnie whispered to Santos. “He knows something is

different about us.”

“How?” Santos whispered back, but his dark eyes flickered over to Tate.

Lonnie wasn’t sure, but his gut told him that Tate was a very dangerous man and

they needed to watch their backs. Things were getting out of hand and the stakes were
getting higher as far as Striker and the Darlings went.

And in the midst of all the chaos, Tate was lurking on the outside, slowly making

his way into the center of their world.

* * * *

“Falcon assured me that Zane is going to be fine.” Rett sat on the step next to

Lonnie. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

Lonnie waved a hand at his friend. “I was freaked at first, but I’m dealing. Although

I found out a hard truth about myself.”

Rett rested his arms on his thighs, twining his fingers together as they both stared

down the sidewalk. Lonnie saw the same stray dog that always wandered by the shop. It
was sniffing at something by the bottom of the steps and then trotted on. “Oh yeah, what’s

that?”

“I’m not a killer,” he admitted solemnly. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this wolf life,

Rett. The Dark Riders seem so hard-core and I nearly vomited from roughing up a
Darling.”

His best friend put an arm around his neck, giving him a tight squeeze before

releasing him. “I’m glad you’re not a killer, Lonnie. I like you just the way you are. I’m not
hard-core, either, but I kind of like being a wolf.”

Lonnie was adjusting to it. There were perks, but he felt like he had to live up to the

part like the other men around him. It was a daunting task. He didn’t want to be badass.
Lonnie just wanted to be himself.

“Let’s make a deal.” His friend laid his arm on Lonnie’s leg. “Let the Dark Riders

kick ass and we’ll just stick to tattooing.”

“Thank god,” Lonnie said overdramatically. “Because I suck at trying to be

intimidating to things that aren’t human. I beat that guy up for ten minutes and he didn’t
talk. Santos had him singing in five seconds flat.”

Rett burst out laughing, holding his side as he gazed up at Lonnie with those

familiar hazel eyes that were heavily lined with red eyeliner. “I would sing, too, if any one
of those guys hemmed me up.”

“Why are you laughing?”

Try as he might, Rett couldn’t get the smile off of his face. Lonnie could tell the guy

was fighting it. “I’m just imagining you beating up a Darling.”

Lonnie narrowed his eyes. “You think I can’t?”

“No.”

A smile crept across Lonnie’s face. “You’re right.”

Standing, Rett tugged at Lonnie’s hair, making him remember why he and the guy

were best friends. The man never lied to him, always shooting from the hip. “Come on,
Hercules. We have customers waiting on us.”

Thankfully only Emilio was in the shop today. Lonnie found that when all four

Dark Riders were there, the customers tended to stay away. It didn’t help that a detective
kept showing up. Half their clientele had either warrants, or a rap sheet a mile long.

Three guys were waiting. Rett took one, Bandit took the second, and Lonnie took

the last man standing there. Jake stood behind the counter as if he’d been working there for
years, flipping through the flash books, seeming comfortable doing nothing.

Lonnie settled in to start the man’s tattoo when the music turned up louder in the

shop. Normally this wasn’t a big deal. He liked working with music in the background. But
what he wasn’t used to was the elevator music that was blasting through his brain. “What
the fuck?”

Jake was so not in charge of the music if this was what he listened to. The guy

sitting in the chair glanced up at Lonnie, a perplexed look on his face.

“Like I listen to that shit,” he grumbled at the guy before he set the tattoo machine

down and walked out into the hallway. Rett had stuck his head out of his room, his brows
furrowed. Lonnie shrugged. “You hired him.”

His senses went on full alert when he smelled a scent so succulent, so masculine

that Lonnie whimpered low in his throat. His wolf was shoving at the walls of his mind. His
body was humming to life. His blood felt like it was being set on fire.

Santos.

The more time he spent around the man, the more connected he became, to the point

Lonnie was sure he wouldn’t be able to live without Santos.

And that did not sit well with him at all.

“What in the hell are you playing?” he asked when he entered the front of the shop.

Only it wasn’t Jake by the sound system, but that annoying bearlike man.

“Real music.” Santos turned, blocking Lonnie from getting anywhere near the

stereo. “You need to broaden your tastes and stop listening to the shit that makes my ears
bleed.”

Lonnie curled his hands into fists, pointing a gloved-finger up at the man. “That is

my stereo. I will listen to what I damn well please in my own shop!”

He tried to get around Santos, but the guy wouldn’t budge. Lonnie shoved, pushed,

and tried to quickly reach around the man’s massive body, but Santos was one fast man.

He slapped Lonnie’s hand.

Lonnie slapped his.

“Just give it a chance.” Santos placed his arm over the stereo, refusing to let Lonnie

touch it. “Let the music into your soul.”

“Trust me, I already think I’m possessed. I don’t need anything else taking me

over.” Lonnie knew he wasn’t going to win this. Santos was just too dang large to move.
He considered getting his broom, but decided that would waste too much energy. “One
song and then you put my music back on.”

“Are you going to finish my tattoo?” the guy asked as he stepped out of Lonnie’s

room.

“Go sit down,” he replied. “I’ll be back in there in a minute.”

The guy looked like he wanted to argue, but one deep grunt from Santos and the

man did as Lonnie had instructed. The customer didn’t look too happy about it, but Lonnie
was determined to win this thing with Santos. There was no way he was listening to music
his dentist played while he got his teeth cleaned.

Lonnie had to quickly grab Santos’s arms when the man lifted him off his feet and

set him on the counter. He moved in close, pressing his nose into Lonnie’s neck, inhaling,
and slowly kissing him as the song played.

Okay, maybe when he listened to the dental music while Santos’s lips molested his

neck, he found that he liked it. Lonnie was getting wound up, his shaft growing hard as
Santos’s hands ran over his arms and back, before cupping his ass, pulling him closer.

“I think I’ll find someplace else to go,” Lonnie’s customer complained as he walked

out the door. As worked up as he was getting, Lonnie couldn’t care less. His mind was
turning to mush over what Santos was doing to him.

A throat cleared.

“Would you mind taking that to your room?” Rett asked, a knowing smirk on his

face. “As much as I like you, Lonnie, I don’t want to see Santos fucking you on the
counter.”

This just didn’t seem to be his day. Lonnie pushed Santos out of his way and

jumped down, landing on his heeled boots. He brushed his hair back, smirking at Rett. “He
was just checking to make sure I wore the right cologne today.”

Santos chuckled, shaking his head before turning the music up louder. Lonnie

slammed his hands over his ears, crying out, “I’m waiting for hippies to come in and try to
hug me!”

Rett looked amused. His colorfully spiked head bounced up and down in time with

the saxophone. “I kind of like it.”

“Hell no!” They were not about to be converted into jazz listeners. Maybe at home,

or at the cabin Lonnie would tolerate it, but not while he worked. It would throw his whole
rhythm off. He was starting to feel an urge to call his dentist.

Reaching into his pocket, Lonnie slapped a one-dollar bill down on the counter. “I’ll

pay you to turn it off.”

Santos pocketed the bill but didn’t move away from the stereo. Lonnie knew he had

to resort to desperate measures. In all honesty, the music wasn’t that bad, but now it was the
principle of the situation he was fighting for.

Reaching under the counter, Lonnie grabbed his spray bottle of glass cleaner. Santos

narrowed his eyes, a challenge in their dark depths. Lonnie slung the bottle over his finger,
like a gunslinger in the Old West before gripping it for war.

The volume slowly increased.

Lonnie aimed.

Santos growled.

Lonnie shot a stream of the blue liquid. He blinked in surprise when—with just one

palm on the counter—Santos leapt, landing on the other side. How did someone that big
move so freaking fast? He was surprised the counter was still in one piece with the man’s
weight.

“Holy crap…” Rett held his fist to his mouth. “Do that again.”

Lonnie ran over to the stereo, reaching for the power button when Santos leaned

over the counter and slammed his hand over the button.

Lonnie bit him.

“Son of a bitch!”

He quickly turned the stereo off, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s all in the wrist. I

should know. I’ve had plenty of practice using it.” Lonnie wiggled his fingers at Santos
before taking the CD out and handing it over. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go bathe
in acid to dirty my soul back up.”

“You’re hopeless.” Santos slipped the CD back in its case. “Trying to educate you

on finer music is like trying to jack off with no hands. Impossible and frustrating as fuck.”

Lonnie made a jerking motion close to his groin. “You can borrow one of mine just

as soon as I finish converting back to gothism.”

“You’re impossible,” Rett said with a smile.

“No, impossible is slamming a revolving door.” Lonnie walked back to his room,

sitting down and rubbing his temples. He really did have a headache. It probably wasn’t
from the music, but the need for sleep. He hadn’t gotten much last night.

Deciding to clean up, Lonnie began to put away the things he’d been using,

throwing out his gloves and picking up—Lonnie paused when he spotted something
wedged under some drawings that had been laying on his counter since forever.

He pushed the paper aside to see a small, black tape recorder. It wasn’t his. He’d

never seen it before in his life. The question was, who put it there? He examined it closely,
seeing that it had voice activation capabilities.

“Hey, Lonnie, do you want—”

Lonnie held his finger to his lip, holding the small device up for Rett to see. He

pointed to the counter where he found it.

Rett grabbed the thing from Lonnie’s hand and turned it off. “It isn’t a bug. It’s a

recorder with an off switch.”

“But it doesn’t belong to me,” he pointed out in a low whisper. “Someone planted it

in my room.” He watched as the realization finally dawned on Rett.

“We need to let the others know.”

Lonnie grabbed his friend’s arm, pulling him back before closing the door. He

wasn’t sure what was going on or who was listening in on them, but he knew not everyone
could be trusted. “The only people with access are Jake and Bandit. I don’t think the Dark
Riders would record what was going on. They are the interesting ones, not us.”

“You think Jake or Bandit had something to do with this?” Rett held the recorder

up. “But we’ve known both of them for years.”

“How well do we know them?” Lonnie posed the question before he started

chewing on his thumbnail. There was no telling how long the recorder had been there, who
planted it, and what they might have heard already. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t
remember if he’d said anything incriminating in his room.

“Oh, hell.” Lonnie stopped pacing the small confines of his room as he stared

wide-eyed at Rett. “What if there are more recorders around here?”

“The only thing they’ll hear from my room is a lot of freaking sex noises.” Rett

opened Lonnie’s door, shoving the small device into the side pocket on his cargo pants.
“We need to check up front.”

Lonnie didn’t like this. The fact that someone was spying on him and Rett in their

own business was infuriating and scary. There was no telling what was recorded. No one
had thought to watch what was said around the shop.

“I know one thing,” Lonnie whispered close to Rett’s ear. “No matter what the spy

heard, he can’t use it against us since the recorder was here illegally.”

Rett stopped and turned, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not the

point, Lonnie. It isn’t so much what they heard about criminal shit. What are we now,
hmm?”

Lonnie felt his stomach turn to ice. What if whoever was listening had heard them

talking about wolf shifters or Darlings? This was bad.

Real bad.

Chapter Fourteen

Santos pulled Lonnie outside, wondering what on earth was wrong with the screwy

man. “Why are you and Garrett searching the shop?”

Lonnie stiffened, glancing up at him. “Were we that obvious?”

“Dude, a blind man could tell what you two were up to.” Santos leaned in a bit

closer, not only to talk more softly, but to inhale the man’s clean scent. “What’s going on,
Lonnie?”

“Someone stuffed a recorder in my room,” he confessed. “We were checking to see

if any more were hidden in the shop.”

Santos stood there for a moment, not believing what he was hearing. He and Falcon

were just discussing—“Oh, hell.”

If someone was really listening in on their conversations, they were fucked. Santos

felt a bit queasy, grabbing the black railing. He had just been telling Falcon that he’d never
met anyone like Lonnie in three hundred years of living, that Lonnie being a wolf looked
damn good on the man.

And that’s not all he’d said. When he was alone up front, Santos had talked to

himself, trying to figure things out that were banging around in his head. He had admitted
out loud to the empty room that he’d fallen in love with Lonnie, that he wasn’t sure telling
the guy was a good idea.

But worst of all, Falcon had been talking about how Emilio needed to lay low since

Striker was after him for killing Vincent. So many things had been said in the shop lately
that they really were screwed.

He ran a hand over his mouth, wondering who would plant the recorder. The only

people who had access were the Dark Riders, Lonnie, Garrett, Bandit, and Jake. The alarm
system wouldn’t have allowed anyone to sneak in after hours. Santos had installed it
himself. It was state of the art. Unless someone knew exactly what they were doing, the
alarm would sound.

He highly doubted the detective was that clever, or anyone else they dealt with.

Lonnie walked back inside as Santos took a seat, clasping his hands together. The

stakes were getting higher and he was slipping. It was a rookie mistake to not check for
listening devices. He’d been around long enough to have known this.

But Santos knew why he’d been slipping and it was in the form of a slim, blond

man who twisted his insides into knots. The bond between them was growing deeper,
stronger, and Santos felt like he was going mad when he wasn’t around the man.

Standing, Santos knew he had to clear the shop out and do a thorough sweep. His

confusion about Lonnie would have to wait. As he walked into the shop, he noticed
everyone looking his way. Santos wasn’t sure what was going on. Lonnie had a funny look
in his eyes as he gazed at Santos like he’d never seen him before.

“Where are Jake and Bandit?” he asked, ignoring the speculative looks from

everyone. Zane was the only one who stood there with a wide, shit-eating grin on his face.
Even Emilio looked out of sorts.

“I put them in Garrett’s room.” Falcon moved from the couch where he’d been

sitting. He stopped in front of Santos and then showed him a mini recorder. “This was
under the front counter.”

“We listened to bits and pieces,” Garrett said, his heavily slashed eyes filled with

mirth. “You really should work on talking to yourself out loud.”

Santos’s eyes fell on Lonnie who was still standing there staring at him strangely.

He had a feeling Lonnie had heard everything, and Santos meant everything. That wasn’t
how he was going to tell the guy, but it seemed every single man in the room knew Santos
was in love with Lonnie.

Snatching the recorder from Falcon’s hand, Santos snarled at each and every man.

“Mind your own fucking business!”

He turned, slamming his hand into the handle of the door before walking outside,

moving down the steps quickly. He needed air. Not only was he pissed that everyone was
privy to his inner turmoil, but embarrassed.

And Santos didn’t do embarrassed very well.

He gazed over at the Dirty Hole, and then crossed the street, waiting as a car passed

before dodging around the parked cars and making his way into the bar.

Wolf shifters couldn’t get drunk, but he needed the distraction. The gears were

turning in his head, trying to figure out a way to save face in front of the men. It wasn’t the
fact that he had feelings for Lonnie. It was the fact that they had heard every confusing
detail of what Santos was going through.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender thick with muscles and tattoos asked as he eyed

Santos.

“One-five-one.”

“Shot?”

“Give me the damn bottle.” Santos leaned his arms on the bar, running a hand down

his face. Fuck it. So everyone knew he was in love with Lonnie. They knew he was a
fucked-up mess inside as well. He was just a very private person and no man wanted their
buddies to have that kind of information.

A hand clapped him on his shoulder. Santos turned to see Falcon pushing in next to

him. The guy didn’t say anything to Santos. He just ordered his rum. When the bartender
handed them their drinks, Santos took the bottle to a table outside.

“It was Bandit.” Falcon took a drink of the dark liquid and hissed before setting the

tumbler on the wood table. “He confessed to helping the detective.”

Santos stared at his bottle, tired of dealing with men like Bandit. Lonnie and Garrett

hadn’t done anything to warrant such a betrayal. He turned the bottle up, taking a long
drink before setting it on his thigh. He was about to ask why the guy had done it, but it
really didn’t matter.

Betrayal was pretty cut and dry to him.

“He handed one of the tapes over already.” Falcon finished his drink, slamming the

glass on the table. “Our secret’s out.”

A low curse left Santos’s lips. “What do you plan on doing with him?”

Falcon shrugged his leather-clad shoulders. “What can we do? If we off his ass, the

detective will know. Garrett and Lonnie just finished firing him.” Falcon chuckled. “Zane
had to stop your boy from trying to tear Bandit’s head off.”

He was glad the rat wasn’t Jake. Santos liked the guy. Glancing across the street,

Santos gazed into the large window with Andromeda’s logo etched in the glass. He could
see the top of Zane’s head and Lonnie standing by the couch, talking.

“Garrett had me all fucked up for a while there,” Falcon confessed. “Still does

sometimes.” The man pulled his sunglasses down his nose, giving Santos a look that said it

all. “But I would never let anyone else know just how fucked my head is sometimes over
that guy.”

It wasn’t like he had done it on purpose. He felt like he needed to go out and destroy

something to prove he still held his membership to the badass club. He tapped his fingers
on the table before grabbing the bottle and downing half the burning liquid.

“Come on.” Falcon’s voice dropped. “In a few hundred years, we’ll forget what we

heard on that recorder.”

Santos was not amused.

Sitting forward, Santos watched as Bandit left the shop, backpack over one

shoulder, plastic carrying case held firmly in his hand. Santos wanted to go across the street
and beat the shit out of Bandit for betraying them all. “Looks like he cleared his stuff out.”

Lonnie came out of the shop, gazing across the street. They locked eyes and Santos

cursed low. “I just realized that Lonnie’s eyes—”

“Haven’t changed,” Falcon finished for him. “I caught that days ago.” Falcon’s tone

told Santos that he was slipping.

“What do you think that means?” Santos asked. Garrett’s eyes hadn’t changed

either. They were still as hazel as ever. In all honesty, Lonnie’s gorgeous eyes were one of
the things that had attracted him. He still felt that they looked like the fates had hand spun
that exotic color.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” Falcon replied. “But so far I’m stumped.”

Santos hoped they never changed. He felt a smile curl his lips up when Lonnie

waved for Santos to come over. Shaking his head, Santos tipped the bottle to his lips and
took a long drink. Lonnie stomped his foot, pointed an angry finger at Santos, and then
crooked it, telling Santos without words to get over there.

“Go face him.” Falcon swiveled the empty tumbler on the table. “We all hand in our

badass cards once in a while. At least you lost points over a cute guy.”

Cute? Shit, Lonnie was downright breathtaking. Leaving the bottle on the table,

Santos crossed the street, heading up the steps until he was towering over Lonnie. Without
saying a word, Santos scooped the skinny guy up into his arms and carried him inside,
heading for Lonnie’s room. The men in the waiting area whistled and shouted some lurid
crap, but Santos didn’t break stride.

Fuck them. They were just jealous.

“You really in love with me?” Lonnie asked as Santos kicked the door closed.

“Yeah, why?” He set Lonnie down long enough to get the man’s shirt off. Lonnie

didn’t hesitate to jump up on the cushioned chair and pull his boots free before getting
down and removing his pants. He stood there gloriously naked, making Santos’s nostrils
flare with hunger.

“Because I was afraid it would be one-sided.” Lonnie reached out, unsnapping

Santos’s jeans. “I’ve been in love with you since forever.” He tugged the fabric apart.
“Which is equivalent to about a week.”

Santos chuckled. “You are so full of shit.”

“Fine, two weeks, but I’m not bidding any higher.” Lonnie dropped to his knees,

pulling Santos’s cock free before taking the shaft into his mouth.

Santos let out a low and heated curse, his legs becoming instantly rigid. “About

time you found something to do with that mouth of yours.” His hands fisted into Lonnie’s
hair, tugging the blond dreads as he hissed when Lonnie took his cock deeper.

Using his other hand to push his hair back, he watched his lover as the man moved

his head up and down the hard length of Santos’s erection, the sight serving to arouse him
almost to madness.

“Do you know how gorgeous you look down there?” His fingers tightened in

Lonnie’s hair when the man looked up at him with those pale eyes. He used his tongue to
stroke the underside of Santos’s erection, making him groan and growl at the same time.

Lonnie was sucking at him, making Santos’s balls draw tight to his body. He wiped

the sweat from his eyes, a fine sheen covering his body. Heat wrapped around him, stoked
by his lust, fueled by Lonnie’s touch.

He was fighting for breath, his chest heaving, his body tight as Lonnie used his

tongue in ways that had Santos so close to coming that his legs quivered. His teeth
clenched, his hand tightened even further in the soft strands of Lonnie’s hair.

A groan raked over his flesh as Lonnie’s tongue raked his cock, teased it, and then

sucked the heated flesh back into his mouth. He wanted to fuck the man, but he didn’t have
the strength needed to pull Lonnie away. The pleasure was too exquisite, his control
slipping away.

His cock became harder, tightening, pulsing.

He was the most beautiful creature on the face of the earth. Lonnie was amazingly

tantalizing, provocative, sensual. Why had he been fighting against falling for the man?
Why had he been so snarly about giving this man his heart? They fought like crazy, got on
each other’s nerves, and were total opposites. Santos couldn’t see himself with anyone else.

His balls tightened, his cock jerked, then he cried out, holding Lonnie’s head still as

he thrust as deep and as hard as he could before he came down the man’s throat.

Pushing to his feet, Lonnie stood there with his cock still hard, jutting upward. He

practically climbed up Santos’s body, his pale-green orbs shining with need. “Your
manhood bruises too damn easily,” the man said as he wrapped his arms and legs around
Santos’s body. “What’s wrong with admitting you love me? Am I an embarrassment, only
good enough to fuck behind closed doors, but not good enough to be seen with?”

Santos backed up until his ass hit the counter. He reached up and wet his fingers

with his saliva before shoving them deep into Lonnie’s tight ass. “Fuck no. I’d be seen with
you anywhere, on any given day. You’re stunning as hell and mouthy as fuck. You have
more courage than most men I know and aren’t afraid to fight at my side.” He remembered
Lonnie at Pandora’s Box, how the man had jumped right in, fighting for Santos’s loss, his
pain, and his anguish over losing Ernest.

“Then say it,” Lonnie said with heat and softness in his voice. “Tell me you love

me.”

Santos shoved his fingers deeper, his cock already coming back to life as he thought

of burying it deep into Lonnie’s body. “Why, why do you need to hear me say those
words?”

Gazing up at him, Santos could see the stark truth in the man’s pale-green eyes

before the words even left his lips. “Aside from Rett, not one single person has uttered
those three words to me.”

Something tightened inside of Santos at the lost and lonely look on Lonnie’s face.

The last of his walls crumbled, leaving Santos vulnerable to this one single man. Truth be
told, aside from his family, not one single person had told Santos those three words, either.
They felt foreign and strange as they settled on his lips, but Santos knew this was the
moment. If ever he was going to give his heart to someone, Lonnie was the one. “I love
you, Lonnie.”

He slipped his cock inside his lover’s body, hissing at the pleasure that raced over

him. Lonnie’s fingernails dug into his shoulders, his head lolling back and to the side.
Santos leaned forward, raking his canines over the man’s exposed flesh.

“I love you, too, Santos.” That silky whisper shattered a part of the darkness living

inside Santos. He teased Lonnie’s flesh, kissing him along his swanlike neck. His teeth
teased the man’s Adam’s apple before licking a path to Lonnie’s lips.

He had once told Lonnie to stop hiding from what he was feeling, but Santos had

been doing the very same thing. It was easy to say the words when he was fucking the man,
but in the cold light of morning, Santos had buried those emotions in a deep part of his
soul, afraid of what the man was doing to him. Denial and barbs were easier to deal with
than leaving himself wide open for Lonnie to destroy him on a level he’d never allowed
anyone to penetrate before. Lonnie was in there, deep inside Santos, and it scared the shit
out of him.

Gentle fingers grazed over Santos’s head as he buried his cock deep, over and over

again. He held onto the man, his arms wrapped around a body that was made for loving. As
he stood there and thrust his erection, Santos buried his face into Lonnie’s neck and
breathed in his entire world.

Chapter Fifteen

As Santos pulled his bike next to the curb on Sycamore, he could already here the

howls and barks of the dogs being used in Marcus’s illegal fighting.

He didn’t give two shits that the guy was into illegal things. What made Santos’s

back molars grind was the fact that the scumbag was using helpless dogs as a form of
monetary gain and cruel entertainment.

Zane and Emilio pulled in behind him, backing their bikes up to the curb before

cutting the motor. “I’d ask if this was the right place, but I can hear the dogs.” Zane looked
as angry as Santos felt. They were wolves, and the canine breed mattered to them. The dogs
were just plain dogs—not shifters—but that didn’t mean a damn thing to them. Santos had
a soft spot for the canine breed. Hell, he had a soft spot for animals, period.

Following the sounds of the feral growling and high-pitched barking, the three

walked toward the back of the house. There was a barn structure in the back, lights spilling
out under the closed door. A beefy guy was standing by the door, his hands crossed in front
of him as the human gave off a menacing glare.

“This is private property.” He flexed his muscular forearms and Santos gave the

man a wicked grin. If he only knew what he was dealing with.

Santos jutted his chin toward the loud noise. “We came for the fight.”

The man’s dark-blue eyes filled with mocking humor. “I have no idea what you are

talking about, but if you don’t leave, I’ll put you off this property myself.”

Zane pulled a nine millimeter from his waistband, shoving the cool metal in the

man’s face so quickly that the human didn’t even have time to react. His tone was deadpan
and lethal as he said, “Where the fuck is Marcus?”

It took a lot to rile Zane. The man was a pretty laid-back person. But when he did

get down to business, he was a force to be reckoned with. There was no longer any humor
in the man’s eyes, just a cold calculation that should have been a big warning to the human.

But, humans like this guy were ignorant fucks. “I don’t know any Marcus.” His tone

was rebellious, his words shot out rigidly.

Using one hand, Zane chambered a bullet. “You better think harder or your brains

are going to be decorating the door you’re trying too hard to protect.”

The door swung open and Emilio slammed a fist into the man’s face before they

even knew who he was. The guy crumbled, knocked out cold.

The muscled human licked his lips, his eyes darting between the three of them. He

was starting to get a clue. Santos could see the ramifications of protecting Marcus creep
into the man’s eyes. “Inside.”

Raising his hand, Zane slammed the gun down on the human’s temple. The guy fell

like a house of cards, landing next to the other unknown with a hard thud.

Santos opened the door, walking inside like he was a part of the crowd. His stomach

turned when he saw a pit bull and a boxer fighting in the middle of the ring. The
chocolate-and-white boxer was bleeding and he didn’t look like he was going to win. His
snarls were less intimidating, his chest moving so quickly that Santos could tell he was
badly injured.

“Son of a bitch,” Emilio whispered under his breath. His eyes were trained on the

boxer, his mouth pulling into a tight clench. Santos wanted to run in there and save the poor

animals, but there were at least twenty men standing around the ring.

The Dark Riders were good, but not that damn good. It galled him to admit that, but

Santos had to come up with a way that would save all the dogs that were penned and
waiting to fight.

“I’m going to create a diversion,” Emilio said in a low tone. “Get my fucking boxer

out of there.”

Zane and Santos nodded. He wasn’t sure what his cousin—Oh shit! Emilio had

walked over to the corner of the barn and had lit something on fire. The orange-and-red
glow grew brighter and brighter until someone shouted, “Fire!”

An accelerant must have been used, because within seconds the side of the barn was

burning. Everyone hauled ass, leaving the dogs behind.

What fucking bastards.

Santos and Zane moved quickly to free the seven dogs who had been caged. They

opened the back of the barn and gave a low snarl, the dogs instantly obeying as they took
off. Emilio had scooped the chocolate-and-white boxer into his arms before joining them.

Santos knew his chances of finding Marcus had just dropped down to nothing, but

saving the dogs was more important to him right now. He would still have his revenge and
it would come when the man was least expecting him. Until then, he was going to tip the
cops’ ear to what Marcus was doing so he couldn’t set up shop again.

Call him a snitch. Call him whatever the hell you pleased. But making sure another

dog wasn’t used in this cruel sport was his only concern at the moment.

* * * *

Emilio took the dog to the back of the tattoo shop, setting him down on Lonnie’s

cushioned chair. The dog didn’t whimper. He didn’t whine. He lay there bleeding and
defeated.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked as he stuck his head into the room. “Stray?”

“Get me the first aid kit,” he said. First thing tomorrow morning, Emilio was taking

the boxer to the vet. He had a friend who worked at Second Street Animal Hospital and the
guy would help him with the dog, no questions asked.

But until the place opened, Emilio wanted to stop the bleeding and get the dog as

comfortable as possible. Keeping him wasn’t even a debate. As soon as Emilio laid eyes on
the dog, he’d fallen in love. The boxer had weaseled his way into Emilio’s heart instantly.
Jake came back into the room and handed him the white plastic case. He tended to all the
areas that were bleeding, stopping once in a while to rub the dog’s head and tell him
everything was going to be fine. The dog looked at Emilio with uncertainty, but didn’t
complain.

“He’s a gorgeous animal,” Jake commented as he wrapped his arms around his

stomach and leaned against the wall. “I wish I had someone like him growing up.”

Just from the conversations he’d had with Jake over the past week, Emilio had

surmised that the human’s life wasn’t an easy one. He’d also seen the scars on the guy’s
arms that were hidden by tattoos.

“He was in a dog fight and nearly lost,” Emilio commented.

“You saved him?”

Staring down at the boxer, Emilio wasn’t sure if he’d saved the dog, or if the dog

was saving him. He hadn’t cared about anything in a very long time—aside from the Dark
Riders. The compassion inside of him was coming on strong, compelling him to do
whatever he could to save the animal. Emotions had started to bleed from him long ago. His
friendship with Jake was cool, but nothing had inspired him like the boxer had, not since
forever.

Emilio just nodded at Jake.

“Got a name for him?”

“No,” he admitted. “Got one in mind?”

Jake chuckled. “Boxers are known for their great love and faithfulness to their

owners. I watched a documentary on his breed. They said that boxers are the soul of
honesty and loyalty, never false or treacherous.” Jake walked closer, running his hand over
the dog’s head. Emilio watched Jake’s eyes soften as he smiled. “You should call him
Rider. His personality fits you guys.”

Emilio was stunned by what Jake had just said. It was true that the Dark Riders

were loyal toward one another. But he never knew Jake thought that way about them.
“Then his name is Rider.”

“Cool,” Jake said before he backed away. Emilio gazed at the human for a moment,

wondering why the guy always had a haunted look in his eyes. He was starting to realize
that Rider wasn’t the only one who needed rescuing.

* * * *

“Rescued dogs, huh?” Lonnie took a seat on the step behind Santos. “Pretty damn

cool.”

Santos could hear the admiration in Lonnie’s tone. They were sitting outside the

shop, gazing over the neighborhood. He leaned back, resting his arms on either side of
Lonnie’s legs before tilting his head back and gazing up at pretty pale-green eyes. “I am
pretty damn cool, aren’t I?”

“And full of yourself.” There was no heat behind Lonnie’s words, just a teasing

playfulness that Santos loved. The guy rested his arms on either side of Santos’s neck,
placing a kiss on his forehead. “I know you gave up finding Marcus to rescue those dogs. I
think that is just a big-ass turn-on.”

“Yeah?”

Lonnie nodded.

“I think a stiff wind would turn you on,” Santos teased, but his wolf was rolling in

the compliments. He winced when Lonnie bit his ear.

“Prick.”

Reaching up, Santos placed his hand on the back of Lonnie’s head, pulling him

closer. Before he kissed the man, he whispered, “Loudmouth.”

Their lips touched, and Santos could feel his heart beating for the man who had

made him see that there was nothing unmanly about showing the guy he loved just how
much he cared.

* * * *

Detective Jack Tate sat in his dark living room, continuously rewinding and playing

the tape Bandit had given him. He was ticked off that the ATM video was corrupted, but
what he was hearing sent a cold chill up his spine.

I didn’t even ask to be converted. I was attacked by those bastard Darlings and the

next thing I know, I’m a wolf shifter.

Jack wasn’t sure if he should take this as a joke, or…he just wasn’t sure. He knew

the voice belonged to that guy who wore dreads, Lonnie Winston. It seemed the guy wasn’t
a simpleton after all. There wasn’t a note of amusement in Lonnie’s tone. If anything, Jack
detected exhaustion and defeat, with a hint of resentment.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this evidence?” he asked himself as he sat

back, running a hand down his weary face. He’d seen things in his line of work that would
make most people have nightmares for the rest of their lives—things that boggled the
human mind. But this…this was something incredibly complex.

He rewound the tape and listened to the conversation take place after Jack had left

the tattoo shop. Lonnie had said he was tired and didn’t mean any of what he was saying,
but Jack knew the guy talking about his resentment, not the fact that he was…shit. A wolf
shifter? And what the fuck was a Darling?

It was just too damn incredible to believe, yet his gut was telling him not to ignore

what Lonnie was saying.

Or the fact that Emilio Alverez had just admitted committing crimes that couldn’t

be pinned on him. Normally, Jack would have taken interest in something like that. But
right now he was too busy wondering what altered universe he had just fallen into.

Did it really matter? He had sworn to himself that he was going to take the Dark

Riders down and now he had a way of not only getting them out of Paradise City, but
getting rid of them on a permanent basis.

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a

hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java,

letting the next set of characters tell their story.

For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

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