Contents

Title Page
Wolf Call
About the Author
Legal Notice

WOLF CALL

by Isabel Dare

About this book:

Jake knows what he is: a motorcycle mechanic with a bad temper and no education beyond

high school. A beautiful, wealthy art dealer like Conrad should be a million miles out of his reach.
But Conrad wants him, maybe even loves him, and Jake wants desperately to believe this is real.
It’s not easy. It’s even harder to believe Conrad’s big secret: he’s a werewolf.

Determined to earn Jake’s trust, Conrad takes him to a meeting of the wolf pack. When the

moon rises, Jake will see the truth for himself. But will that truth bring them closer together, or tear
them apart?

The fifth book in the Mountain Wolves series, Wolf Call is 30.000 words long. This book

contains explicit gay material and is for mature readers only.

Copyright Isabel Dare 2014. All rights reserved.

Jake ran the shower extra hot, extra long. He needed it.
He soaped himself clean with brisk efficient motions, but his thoughts weren’t brisk or efficient

at all. They kept going in circles. It was like he was having a conversation with himself, and it wasn’t
going very well.

Conrad is a werewolf.
—That’s ridiculous.
But he said he could prove it.
—Well, that’s ridiculous too.
I think I almost believe him.
—Just because he had your dick in his mouth is no reason to believe anything he says.
But I—
That was the point where his thoughts kept short-circuiting.
Because, god, Conrad’s mouth. A finely drawn, beautiful mouth made for smiling—or other

things.

Then there were Conrad’s long, slender hands, exploring his body with such tender skill.
And oh, then there was that soft look Conrad kept giving Jake from underneath his long

eyelashes. That look left Jake shaking and weak, feeling as if a sledgehammer had hit him between the
eyes.

The warm water sluicing down his body was doing nothing to cool him off. His cock was

jumping to life again, and damn, his recovery time had never been this quick before.

Jake turned off the taps and shook his head, letting waterdrops fly everywhere, then grabbed a

towel.

The loft was so quiet, now that the shower wasn’t running.
Was Conrad even still here?
Had he left, sneaking down the stairs while Jake was showering?
Maybe he’d had second thoughts.
Jake wouldn’t blame him. I’m no prize.
He knew well enough what he was, and he had no idea why Conrad wanted any of it.
He was a workaholic motorcycle mechanic with a foul temper and few social graces, and no

education beyond high school. Not even all of high school.

And Conrad was…well. Jake didn’t even know what Conrad did for a living, but it was

obvious that Conrad was out of his reach. As far out of his grasp as the moon. And damn if that didn’t
hurt, every time he forced himself to remember it.

When Jake stalked out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips, glaring like a

thundercloud, he found Conrad sitting crosslegged on the floor in front of the old cast-iron stove Jake
had lit for him.

Jake’s glare melted away, and he could feel the tension in his shoulders easing.
He’s still here.
It mattered more than he wanted it to.
It was a little scary, to care so much. It wasn’t what he was used to. But one thing was certain:

Jake didn’t want Conrad to leave. Not without him.

Conrad turned his head and smiled, and Jake felt his knees grow weak.
That smile was so ridiculously lovely, like a sunrise. It transformed Conrad’s whole face,

making him look impossibly beautiful.

“Hi,” Conrad said, as if they hadn’t seen each other for hours.
“Hi,” Jake managed to reply. Then he blinked and focused. “What are you wearing?”
“Oh,” Conrad said, and he blushed a little. Jake tried hard not to find that endearing. “I, um.

Well, I raided your closet. I hope you don’t mind.”

When Jake had brought him in from the woods, he’d given Conrad an old sweatshirt and some

old hiking pants of Jake’s, neither of which fit him. That wasn’t what Conrad was wearing now.

“I—no, of course not,” Jake managed, looking Conrad up and down.
Conrad was wearing old cutoff jeans shorts, Converse shoes, and a t-shirt with an Indy 500 logo

on it. The t-shirt was a little loose on him—Jake’s shoulders were far broader than Conrad’s—but the
shorts…weren’t.

Jake swallowed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those tight little shorts, and the long long

legs left bare. It was an outrageous thing for Conrad to be wearing. Jake had never even seen Conrad
in jeans, just expensive charcoal wool pants and motorcycle leathers.

“Are you sure?” Conrad said, looking worried. “You look like it bothers you. Maybe I

shouldn’t have taken the liberty. I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Jake growled, taking a step closer. “Of course you can wear my clothes.

Any of them, all of them. Just—are you planning to—”

Are you planning to go out like that? said his mother, her voice as alive in his memory as if

she was standing right there. I can see through that shirt, Jake! It’s not decent! And those jeans—
they must have shrunk in the wash!

Jake’s mouth snapped shut. He was not going to turn into his mother, for crying out loud.
“Am I planning to do what?” Conrad asked, still watching him with a tiny frown.
Jake wanted to wipe that frown off his face, and he could think of only one way to do it.
He leaned in, bending down to Conrad, close enough that he could smell the fresh-washed scent

of his hair, and kissed him.

Conrad welcomed the kiss, leaning into him with a little sigh. He was so warm, and he tasted so

good. Jake couldn’t get enough of him.

I could get drunk on your kisses, Conrad had told him.
Jake could say the same, if he could ever bring himself to say something like that at all.
But just as he nuzzled Conrad’s ear, wondering how to ask him to stay, the phone rang.
And kept ringing.

***

Jake muttered a curse under his breath as he stalked over to the window.
Should never have plugged the stupid phone back in.
He mostly used the phone to call for pizza, and his friends didn’t tend to call. They just walked

into the workshop when they wanted to talk to him.

When Jake picked up, a very smooth voice on the other end of the line said, “Is this Jake

Barton?”

“Yeah,” Jake grunted. “What?”
“Alexander Zimmermann speaking,” said the urbane voice. “Is Conrad with you?”
Oh fuck. Jake shot a fast look over his shoulder.

Conrad was still sitting by the stove, his long bare legs crossed, but he was watching Jake, his

expression curious and fond.

Jake clapped a hand over the telephone and mouthed, “Alexander Zimmermann. Your dad?”
Conrad stiffened. “Yes,” he said.
“Could tell him you’re not here,” Jake pantomimed, but Conrad was already shaking his head,

long blond hair flying. He effortlessly unfolded himself and stood up, then strode to the phone and
took it from Jake’s hand with a tiny, somewhat strained smile in Jake’s direction.

Jake moved away, but he didn’t pretend he wasn’t listening.
“Yes,” Conrad said. His spine was ramrod straight, his shoulders back, his chin firm. He

looked like a soldier standing at parade attention, except for those tiny shorts and the long hair. “I’m
fine. I got a little—disoriented last night, but Jake brought me home.”

There was a pause, in which Jake imagined all kinds of invective from Conrad’s dad. But no,

that couldn’t be right, the man sounded far too smooth for that. In Conrad’s family, they probably just
got more polite when they got mad.

Surprisingly, the next thing Conrad said was, “No, I’m on holiday. Father—”
Another silence, in which Conrad stood even straighter, his hand clutching the telephone as

cautiously as if it was a live wire.

Maybe he was imagining things, but Jake was beginning to be annoyed with Conrad’s dad. The

look on Conrad’s face didn’t promise any happy family reunions.

Then Jake remembered Conrad saying, so seriously, My parents are werewolves.
That part was just impossible to understand, or to believe.
Conrad as a werewolf—inconceivable.
Conrad’s parents, his brother, and oh, how about every single member of the Reds motorcycle

gang—all werewolves?

Ludicrous.
But Jake wasn’t laughing.
All he could do was hope like hell that Conrad wasn’t delusional, just…overly sincere, maybe?
Maybe the ‘pack meeting’ he had promised to drag Jake to was some kind of new age get-

together where guys talked about their inner animal spirits and howled at the moon for fun.

Conrad didn’t seem the type for that, honestly. But then he didn’t seem the type to be delusional,

either. Or the type to wind up in an empty house in the middle of the woods, without any clothes on,
and barely able to speak.

Jake absently scratched his own bare chest, then blinked.
He was still wearing just a towel.
And from the coolly furious look on Conrad’s face as he talked to his dad, and listened to his

dad saying unpleasant things, it didn’t seem likely that Conrad was going to want to unwrap that towel
any time soon.

Damn it.
Jake sighed and stalked over to his clothes closet, an old steel locker next to the bed.
When he opened it, he blinked. It looked…neater than before. He was pretty sure he hadn’t

stacked up his jeans as symmetrically as all that.

He threw a look over his shoulder, hoping to see Conrad smile at him, but no such luck.
Conrad was looking out the big steel-framed windows, his jaw set, long hair spilling over one

shoulder. All he said now was, “Father, I—” before apparently being interrupted again.

Fuming, Jake began to dress himself. He was tempted to unplug the phone again, hopefully

cutting off Conrad’s dad in the middle of whatever unpleasant things he was saying. But he didn’t.

Instead, he tugged on a pair of briefs, worn jeans, and an old Ramones t-shirt.
It was warm in the loft, thanks to the fire in the old stove, but judging from the windows, it

would soon be warm outside, too. A nice midsummer morning.

If only he could spend it with Conrad. But the signs weren’t looking too good.
“Fine,” Conrad was saying, his tone icy. “I will find you something. One item, understood?

Take it or leave it. And then I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the week. I am
officially on holiday, and you signed off on it yourself. If you don’t believe me, ask your secretary.”

Conrad didn’t say goodbye. Instead he put down the telephone with a delicate, controlled

motion, and Jake watched him open-mouthed.

Wow. Note to self: when Conrad’s pissed, he gets cold as ice.
It was pretty impressive. For all Conrad’s soft-spoken ways, he was no pushover; he had a

spine made of steel. Knowing that made Jake want him all the more.

“That was really your dad?” Jake had to ask. “It sounded more like your boss.”
Conrad’s fine mouth twisted. “He’s both,” he said.
“Huh.” Jake tried to picture that. He wanted to ask more questions, find out what Conrad’s work

was all about, but Conrad’s expression was so cold and closed-off that it didn’t seem the best idea.

“I thought we could ride into the mountains today,” Jake said instead, trying to sound casual.
It was a Saturday, and even though Jake usually worked through the weekend, there was no

reason he couldn’t take a day off now and then. Unlike Conrad, he didn’t have a boss. Good thing,
too. “It looks like the weather will hold—”

“I’m sorry,” Conrad said. He lifted a hand and pushed back his long blond hair, then tied it with

a strip of leather in swift, efficient movements. “I can’t. I—” he paused, and that cold look faded a
little as he looked at Jake. “I’m not at my best on days like these.” There was a note of regret in his
voice.

Jake gave him a blank look. “Days like…what? The weekend?”
When Conrad’s frozen look returned, he knew he’d made a mistake.
Oh, fuck, he’s talking about the werewolf thing again.
Jake wanted to smack his own forehead in frustration.
Conrad’s eyes were almost blank, making him very hard to read. But that blank expression was

exactly what made Jake feel like a dog. That was what Conrad did, when he got hurt—retreat. Cover
up. Freeze over.

Jake could tell, because it was exactly the same look Conrad wore when he was talking to his

father.

“Tonight, I promise you will see for yourself,” Conrad said. “Can you try and believe me until

then?” He didn’t even sound mad. It was like he was talking about the weather.

Jake swallowed. It was a tough call, asking him to believe any of it, but he couldn’t ignore the

plea that lay behind those formal words. “I’ll try,” he said.

“I’ll see you then,” Conrad said.
Before Jake could think of anything else to say, anything to keep him here, Conrad stalked out

the door.

The loft suddenly seemed empty.

***

Conrad strode through the streets of Sevenacres, coldly furious with himself, furious with

everything.

He couldn’t stop himself from mentally re-running the conversation with his father, trying to

pinpoint where exactly it had gone off the rails. How did his father manage to set his back up that
much, in one short conversation?

It wasn’t always this bad.
Conrad was sure it wasn’t. He’d always—well, almost always—enjoyed working for his

father’s gallery. Art was the one subject they could always talk about, the one topic that never turned
sour.

But now, somehow, those conversations always ended with his father haranguing Conrad about

finding more artwork for the gallery to sell. You’d think he didn’t have any other employees, when in
fact he employed three other art scouts, with several more working on a freelance basis.

It wasn’t like the gallery was doing badly, either. Conrad knew that for a fact. Heck, he’d

brought in most of the gallery’s recent bestsellers himself. He might well be responsible for more
than half of last year’s profit. Not that he could be sure, because his father never showed him the
books.

His father never showed much of anything, in truth. He’d phoned because he was worried, that

much was clear. But he phrased that in a characteristic manner: “Your brother is concerned about
you. He gave me this phone number—why are you staying with a mechanic?”

Conrad winced just remembering that conversation. And every time he looked around, there

was Jake, in nothing but a towel, his massive arms folded over his chest—if only there was an artist
who could capture the sheer impressive strength of him, body and soul. Mapplethorpe could have
done it with his camera, maybe.

If only Jake wasn’t so stubborn. If only he would understand.
Conrad sighed, ran a hand over his chin, and then looked around.
He blinked. This street didn’t look familiar at all.
In his anger, he’d just started walking, the physical movement helping him to let go of a little

energy. And now he was lost.

Cars buzzed past him while he stood looking around, the very picture of a lost tourist, but

nobody stopped. This was the south side of town, the factory and warehouse district, and while it
wasn’t very big, it was also not a place to get lost in. At least it was near to midday, with the sun
bright overhead, and not the middle of the night.

Though anyone who tried to mug Conrad would get an unwelcome surprise. Werewolf strength

was not like human strength—it waxed and waned like the moon, and right now, so close to another
full moon night, it raged hot in his blood.

It wasn’t pleasant. Sounds were too sharp, colors were too bright, and every now and then he

almost lost his balance because part of him wanted to run on all fours.

That was another reason why his father’s phone call had been so difficult, of course. The wolf

in his father was as strong as it was in Conrad, or more so.

Alexander Zimmermann led his own pack, and normally father and son didn’t speak to each

other on days like these, not if they could avoid it. To both the wolf and the man, Conrad was kin,
close-bound to his father’s scent. Alexander wanted him in his pack, wanted to control him.

Alexander had tried that with Conrad’s brother Erick too, and that hadn’t gone well either.

Conrad rubbed his chin again. He didn’t want to think about Erick, or why Erick had resorted to

calling their father instead of Conrad himself.

You could have asked me yourself if I was all right.
It was no surprise that Erick had managed to deduce Conrad’s attraction to Jake from one

glancing comment—that was the kind of thing Erick had always been good at.

But it was an unpleasant idea that so much had been going on behind Conrad’s back: Erick

talking to their father about Jake, giving their father Jake’s number, telling him that Conrad had run
away in the woods and abandoned the pack. It felt almost like a betrayal.

He turned, trying to spot a street sign or a landmark he recognized. There was a big hardware

store nearby— surely he’d seen this place before, when he went out to the Turkish restaurant with
Jake?

“Hey man, you want a ride?”
Conrad turned, prepared to say something scathing—he might be standing on a street corner, but

he wasn’t loitering here to be picked up like some sort of rent boy, good god—but then he saw a
familiar wide grin.

“Oh,” he said blankly. “Yes. Yes, in fact I do.”
The cab driver swung open the door for him with a flourish. His mop of curly hair stood up

even higher than before, nearly brushing the roof of the cab. “You got lost on the wrong side of
town?”

“Certainly not,” Conrad said, then paused. “Well. A little.”
Marshall’s grin widened. “Your boyfriend said you might need some wheels, so here I am.

Where to?”

Conrad stared at him as he buckled his seatbelt. “I beg your pardon?”
Your boyfriend.
Jake. It had to be Jake.
A strange warmth settled beneath Conrad’s breastbone. He’s trying to take care of me.
Somehow, it didn’t grate on Conrad the way his family’s over-protectiveness did. It felt

different. Warm. Safe.

Marshall turned the corner, apparently prepared to drive in circles while Conrad made up his

mind. “I like the shorts,” he said with another flashing grin. “He give them to you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Conrad said faintly. He regretted the impulse, now. He should not

have stolen Jake’s clothes, even if they carried the faint scent of him. “How did Jake get your
number?”

Marshall’s thick eyebrows went up. “Hey, everyone has my number,” he said with a friendly

leer. Then, as Conrad kept staring at him, “Ah, my aunt said he was looking out for you, so I figured it
was okay.”

Marshall’s aunt kept the B&B Conrad was officially staying at, but Marshall’s information only

raised even more questions in Conrad’s mind. Jake had gone there last night, looking for Conrad…
who was lost in the woods in wolf form. Nobody at the B&B knew anything about that, or about his
secret.

It didn’t explain how Jake had found him.
Nothing explained how Jake had found him, tracking him down before even the other

werewolves could find him by scent.

Conrad really wanted to talk to someone about that, but he didn’t know who. Not his dad,

certainly. Not Erick, either.

If only his mother was within reach, he would at least have someone who would listen and try

to understand, but he hadn’t seen his mother in a long time after she divorced his dad.

He got emails now and then, short and succinct ones. This summer, his mother was off canoeing

in India with her new pack. Tonight, she would be running under the same full moon, but much too far
away for Conrad to howl for her and hear her howl back.

With a sigh, Conrad leaned back in the worn leather seat. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Business first. He’d promised his father that he would find him one item. One artwork, to be

acquired at a low price and sold at the gallery for a much, much higher sum.

“Do you know any art galleries around here?” he asked.
Marshall grinned.

***

It turned out there were two art galleries in Sevenacres and eighteen in Silver Springs. That said

a lot about the two towns.

Conrad had a nose for hidden treasure, and he didn’t think he would find any in Silver Springs.
The town was too affluent, too well-kept, too modern. It was the kind of place where people

knew exactly what kind of valuable art they possessed, and had it insured and tricked out with burglar
alarms. The galleries would be full of modern art, bold but not too shocking, colorful but not too
outrageous, exactly the kind of thing to hang over a Chesterfield sofa for friends and neighbors to
admire.

Exactly the kind of thing that could not be turned around at auction or in the Zimmermann gallery

for a better price.

Marshall drove Conrad to the first of the two galleries in Sevenacres, and Conrad felt his heart

sink into his boots when he looked at it.

“They must turn a good profit,” he said, more to himself than to Marshall.
Marshall nodded. “You bet.” He eyed the display window, then looked back at Conrad to see

his reaction. “Lots of scenic views around here. People like to paint ‘em. Other people like to buy
‘em, I guess.”

Nothing wrong with that, Conrad thought, but why is it always sunrise or sunset in these

paintings, and in the most lurid colors?

He couldn’t make himself get out of the car. Instead he just stared despondently at the brightly lit

window full of local landscapes in day-glo color. The work was slapdash and hurried, utterly
uninspired, but even as he sat there watching, three customers went into the store one after the other.
They looked like tourists.

“Drive me to the other gallery, please,” Conrad said with a sigh.
“You won’t like that one either,” Marshall predicted confidently. He was clearly enjoying

himself, and he swung the car around with an expert yank at the wheel.

“Why not?” Conrad inquired.
Marshall gave an expressive wink-and-shrug. “Just got a feeling.”
“Hmm,” Conrad said. “Let’s see if your instincts are good.”
When they drove into Fairview Lane, Conrad looked left and right, but he couldn’t see a gallery.

This was a residential area, and the houses were old and somewhat dilapidated.

“Over there,” Marshall said. He waved at a house close by, a wooden house that looked about a

century old.

When Conrad squinted—he did not need glasses, the thought was ridiculous, who ever saw a

werewolf with glasses?—he could just make out a sign half-hidden in the bushes that said, “Fairview
Artshow”.

“This is a gallery?” It looked more like a practical joke of some kind.
“Mmm-hmm,” Marshall said. “Just go in and see, I’ll wait.”
Reluctantly, Conrad climbed out of the car and went to investigate.

***

Marshall’s instincts turned out to be infallible. He also turned out to be something of a practical

joker.

When he returned, Conrad gave Marshall a glare that Marshall fielded easily with a cheerfully

insouciant grin.

“I know, I know,” Marshall said, not sounding apologetic at all. “But it’s the only other art

gallery in town, I swear. It’s in all the guidebooks.”

“A collection of paintings made by someone’s cats is not a gallery,” Conrad protested. “It’s a

sideshow, at best.”

“Hey, if Marcel Duchamp could put a urinal in a museum and call it art, why not cat paintings?”

Marshall said reasonably. “Could be the next big thing.”

Conrad laughed, and he was surprised to find his dark mood lifting. The whole thing was just

too ridiculous. “So you know who Marcel Duchamp is?”

“I drive a cab, doesn’t mean I can’t read art books,” Marshall said, and his dark eyes met

Conrad’s in the rearview mirror. For once he looked serious, even stern.

After a moment, Conrad nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I do apologize. Your acumen is

excellent, and I appreciate your willingness to embark on this adventure with me.”

Marshall shot him another sharp look. “You doing that on purpose?”
Conrad’s brows lifted. “Doing what?”
“Using words like that. Acumen. To see if I get it.”
“I—no,” Conrad said. “I’m sorry. I’ve been told before that I should speak normal English, and

I will try, I promise.”

“Wonder who told you that,” Marshall said, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile. “I

think I can guess.” He gunned the engine, speeding them away from Fairview Lane.

Conrad said nothing, but he sighed a little as he stared out the window. Every time he thought

about Jake, warmth flooded through him, despite the difficult moments they’d had. He just wanted so
desperately for Jake to stay in his life.

Even if it meant exposing him to the pack, and vice versa. Even if it meant letting Jake see him

in wolf form. That thought made him feel vulnerable. He’d never shown himself to a non-werewolf,
never. But for Jake, he would take the risk.

“I’m taking you one more place,” Marshall said. “Not to jack up the fare or anything, I swear.

Just thought you should see it.”

“No more surprises, please,” Conrad begged, but he couldn’t help smiling. “No more cat

paintings. I can’t take it.” The wolf in him was offended by the mere idea.

“No cat paintings,” Marshall promised.
They drove back into the center of town. Bright sunlight beat down on the roof of the car, and

Marshall turned on the air conditioning.

When they stopped again, Conrad gave Marshall a dubious look. “This is an art supply store,

not a gallery.”

Not a particularly promising one, at that. The display window looked a little dusty, and there

was no one going in or out.

Marshall rolled his eyes. “You must be the smartest man who ever took a cab. I know it’s an art

supply store.”

Conrad had to laugh again. “You talk to all your customers that way?”
“Only the ones I like,” Marshall said, and gave Conrad another irresistible, flirty grin. “Go on

in. I got a good feeling about this one.”

“I’m not here to buy paint,” Conrad said dubiously, but he gave in.

***

A tinny bell jangled over his head as he walked into the store. Very old-fashioned, just like the

display of colored pencils and paints in the window.

What was Conrad supposed to be doing here? He looked around, baffled. It wasn’t like he

needed anything they were selling.

But then, just as the door in the back opened and a salesman came out into the store, Conrad’s

attention was caught and held by a painting that hung over a shelf of water color paints.

This was a landscape too, a local view most likely, but the difference between this work and

the slapdash paintings in the tourist-trap gallery was immense.

Conrad moved in closer, barely aware of the salesman’s presence behind him. He locked his

hands behind his back and bent his head, studied the work.

A bright, glorious golden yellow glowed between patches of green and silver. Those patches of

color might be birches, but Conrad wasn’t much concerned about that. It wasn’t the subject that
interested him, but the depiction of it.

The workmanship was technically good, but not especially proficient; there was room for

growth there. What mattered more to Conrad was the vital force of the painting. It practically leapt off
the wall. There was life in it, and joy, and an exuberant delight in color.

This, he could sell. Off the top of his head, he could think of three customers that would want it,

particularly if he had a story to tell about an artist nobody knew yet, someone Conrad had discovered
on holiday. But he had to see more work; he had to know if this was someone worth investing in.

“A local artist?” Conrad asked without turning around. “You have more of his work?”
“Very local,” said a light voice behind him. “It’s not for sale, we really just put it there to

advertise this brand of paints—”

Conrad turned around, and his brows lifted.
In front of him was a young man who could have modeled for Michaelangelo’s David, except

that his expression was too cheerful and his stature too slight even for David. But good lord, he was
beautiful, with honey-colored curls and melting blue eyes. Not Conrad’s type at all, but he couldn’t

help admiring beauty wherever he found it.

Delicately, Conrad took in his scent with a bare widening of his nostrils, and blinked in

surprise.

“I’m Leo,” the young man was saying. “Is there anything in particular you were looking for?”
“You painted this,” Conrad accused him. He couldn’t have said how he knew—it was part of

his gift, his art buyer’s eye—but he was absolutely sure.

Leo blushed. “Well, yes. Like I said: very local.” He was trying to make a joke out of it, but

Conrad could see he was pleased.

Conrad could also see—or rather, smell—that Leo was taken. By another werewolf. Conrad

couldn’t quite place his scent, but any werewolf living here had to be part of Brand’s pack.

Leo was giving him the once-over, too. “I’m sorry, this may be a strange question, but—”
“Yes,” Conrad forestalled him easily. “Erick Zimmermann is my brother, and we do look rather

alike, I know.”

Leo nodded, looking fascinated and, for some reason, a little worried. “It’s the bone structure

more than anything else,” he said almost to himself.

Conrad was consumed with curiosity, though he tried not to show it. It was rare, very rare, for a

werewolf to mate with a human more than once. But the strong scent left on Leo’s skin sent its own
message: mine. Mine forever.

It must mean that Leo was mated to his werewolf. That tradition held its own set of rules. If the

werewolf ran with the pack, it must mean that Leo had been claimed in front of the pack.

It was almost impossible to believe, looking at the fresh-faced young man in front of him, that he

would have let his werewolf take him in front of the pack. But that musky male scent layered on his
skin told its own story.

The mere thought of such a claiming sent a shudder of disturbing heat through Conrad.
Would Jake…?
Could that ever happen for the two of them?
Conrad wasn't even entirely sure if he wanted that, himself. The wolf in him did, oh yes—but

another part of him wanted to keep Jake close, like a precious secret, rather than let the pack watch
anything they did together. He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.

He shook his head minutely, trying to recover his poise. “I would like to see more of your art,”

he told Leo gently. “I work for a gallery, and this looks very promising.”

That wasn’t what he usually told customers. He usually emphasized that the gallery was very

small, to give them a hint not to expect too much money, and that he thought they might be able to find
room for whatever artwork was on offer. Then his father would send in Erick to sweeten the deal
with his honeyed voice.

But Conrad was sick of it. He didn’t like negotiating, not even the very early stages; not when it

involved lying. If his father wanted him to bring in more bestsellers, he could cough up a reasonable
price for them.

“I, um,” Leo began. He rubbed his chin, looking a bit flustered. “I don't think my boss would

appreciate it if I sold art here instead of art supplies.”

“Why not?” said Conrad. “You could hang your work here on consignment, pay him a

percentage for any sales. Just like a gallery.” He gave Leo a sharp look of inquiry. “Why isn't your
work in a gallery, by the way?”

Leo flushed more. “I tried at the gallery here in town. They, um, didn't think my work would

sell. Said it was too rough.” He looked down at the floor. “After that, I didn't think it would, either.”

Conrad would have cheerfully kicked those gallery owners up one street and down another for

discouraging a fledgling artist like that. Of course Leo's work wasn't right for them; it would show up
everything else they sold, for one thing. And it wasn’t in the slapdash commercial style they were
looking for, either. But it wouldn't have hurt them to encourage him to show at some larger, more
contemporary venue.

Of course, if they had encouraged Leo, then the story Conrad’s father told his customers would

be much less interesting. My son found his work in an art supply store, can you believe it? A
diamond in the rough.

“I suppose you didn't try to exhibit at the cat gallery,” Conrad said, a smile tugging at a corner

of his mouth.

Leo blinked, then began to laugh. "Oh no, did you go there? I've only heard about it, but it's

supposed to be really something."

“It’s something, all right,” Conrad said wryly. “I will remember the smell of that place ‘til the

day I die.”

Leo’s laugh was infectious. “Now I’m definitely never going to see it. Kirk would smell it on

me and go nuts.” Leo blushed again when Conrad looked at him more closely, and he added, “Kirk’s
my boyfriend.” There was a note of pride in his voice that Conrad found endearing.

Given what Leo had just said, and that unmistakable claiming scent hanging all over him, there

was absolutely no doubt that Kirk was a werewolf.

Conrad racked his memory, trying to locate Kirk’s name in the list of Brand’s pack members,

but he came up with nothing. Though he didn’t know half of Brand’s pack by name, and not even all of
them by scent. Oh well. If Kirk ran with the pack, they would meet tonight at full moon.

“Could you show me more of your work?” Conrad asked. “I want to buy this, but my family’s

gallery doesn’t sell just one painting by an artist. We prefer to enter into a relationship with them,
where we represent them and get first shot at all their work. That way we can build interest among
collectors.” He watched Leo’s eyes widening. “Are you interested?”

“I—of course,” Leo said. “Um, where is your gallery, exactly? Is it in Silver Springs?”
Conrad shook his head, smiling, then gave Leo the address.
“Oh, wow,” Leo said faintly. “I—I know this place. When I was in art school, I used to visit—

wow.” He looked stunned, but also delighted.

It was a pleasure to see the excited thrill rise in Leo’s eyes. His scent—his own scent, not the

masking scent Kirk had put on him—was rising, steaming into the air as his heart beat faster, and it
was mesmerizing: young, fresh, delicious, full of an innocent but powerful sensuality. If Conrad could
have bottled it, he would have made a killing, at least among werewolf kind.

“Of course you can see more of my work,” Leo said. Then his excited, open, friendly look

seemed to shutter a little. “At least—I think—I’d have to discuss it with Kirk first. He doesn’t—” He
ran a hand through his curls, disordering them. “Look, this is a little awkward, but Kirk and your
brother Erick don’t get along, and you look just like him. Before I bring you up to the cabin, I should
talk to Kirk about you.”

“No problem,” Conrad said easily, though he could sense trouble hanging on the horizon like a

stormcloud.

It was still a mystery to him how Erick had landed on the very bottom rung of the pack—and had

found some strange kind of comfort there—but this trouble with Kirk might have something to do with
it. And if Kirk was as possessive as Leo’s behavior indicated…well.

Werewolves tended toward possessiveness, in any case. They didn’t appreciate strangers

coming to visit their mates, even if said strangers were truly only interested in art.

Come up to my cabin and I’ll show you my etchings…Conrad bit back a small grin at the

thought.

If Conrad could talk to Kirk, at least it would be easy for Kirk to determine that Conrad wasn’t

lying. That was another advantage of being a werewolf. Especially on these full moon days, all the
scents were so sharp that they felt like three-dimensional trails of color.

The scent rising from Leo now felt like a mixture of pride, excitement and embarrassment,

overlaid with that sharply sexual wolf scent that said, mine.

Conrad could have stayed and breathed him in just for the pure sensual pleasure of it, but that

was hardly polite.

Instead, he reached for his pocket, intending to give Leo his card—then paused, remembering

that he was wearing Jake’s jean shorts, and he didn’t have his card case or his mobile phone on him.

That’s right. I was supposed to be on vacation.
With a sigh, he surrendered to the inevitable and gave Leo the number for the Floating Tiger, the

bed and breakfast Conrad was officially staying at. Then he gave him Jake’s phone number as well.

“I’m staying there,” he told Leo, deliberately vague. “If I’m not home, please leave a message.”
Conrad said nothing about where he would be tonight. It was instinctive, that caution, that

secrecy.

Leo had to know his boyfriend was a werewolf. He couldn’t possibly be ignorant of that basic

fact, not with that claiming scent all over him. But he might not know enough to spot that Conrad was
one, too.

***

Jake paced up and down the loft, stamping his foot every time he hit the wall and had to turn

back around. It didn’t help.

His thoughts kept going in tight little circles, and he didn’t know how to break out of them.
I want him.
I need him.
I want him.
I need him.
It felt like madness. It wasn’t just lust. It was so much more than that.
Was this what it was like to be truly in love? Was this what the love songs were all about?
For the first time, he was beginning to understand why so many love songs sounded so angry.
It wasn’t a sweet happy feeling, this need that pulled him toward Conrad. It was like a wire

wound so tight it was twanging. When Conrad wasn’t there, it was like trying to get a breath in a
vacuum. And when he was, his presence was overwhelming to the point where Jake couldn’t find
words to talk to him.

Not that talking was one of his best skills, anyway.
Damn it. Jake didn’t even know where Conrad was, though he hoped Marshall had found him.
There was no reason to be worried, he told himself; no reason whatsoever. It was broad

daylight. Whatever afflicted Conrad, whatever being a werewolf really meant, it wouldn’t happen
until the moon rose.

With an angry growl, Jake gave up the pacing.
He stomped down the stairs to his workshop instead, carrying the nearly-forgotten box of donuts

that Garcia had brought him before storming out.

Jake didn’t want to think about Garcia, either. He had no idea what would happen when they

saw each other again. Maybe Garcia would get over his mad—he wasn’t really the type to carry a
grudge—but would he ever accept Conrad?

The skylight over the stairs showed a bright blue sky. It was a beautiful day, perfect for riding

into the mountains.

Jake shook his head as he unlocked the inner door to the workshop. He didn’t want to go for a

ride without Conrad. Might as well go back to working.

Maybe he could think of something to do that would involve a lot of hammering, or a lot of

breaking stuff. He was in the mood for something violent and loud.

When he got into the workshop, he flung open the outside door, propped it open with a motor

block as usual, and flooded the room with fresh air and sunlight.

It helped a little, but not enough.
Jake poked at his ancient music system, trying to find something that would suit his mood.

Finally he settled on The Clash.

Buoyed by the noise, he circled Conrad’s gleaming motorbike, munching absently on a cream-

filled donut.

If he couldn’t have Conrad with him right now, at least he could work on Conrad’s machine.

Make her better. Make her all she could be.

At some point, Conrad would need to ride her, try her out. See what Jake had done to her.
Would he like it? Would he understand Jake’s choices?
Jake tugged at a warped screw that was resisting him, frowning. He wanted the bike to be

perfect, and he was a long way from achieving that. But he couldn’t keep working on her forever.

Would Conrad leave when the work on his bike was done? He lived in the big city, after all. He

was on holiday, not that his father—his boss—seemed to care much about that. Conrad would have to
get back to work soon, whatever his work actually was.

When his bike was finished, what other reason could Jake give him to stay around Sevenacres?
The only thing he had to offer was himself.

***

Jake lost himself in his work.
It was his one escape, and always had been. He didn’t watch the clock, he didn’t eat, he didn’t

care about anything else that happened while his hands were busy.

There was no room for worry or need or frustration in his head, not when he needed to focus on

what he was doing.

If he made a mistake, he could try again. But it was better, more satisfying, to get things right the

first time.

Installing the new custom-made fuel tank on Conrad’s bike was satisfying like that. When he

stepped back, eyeing her critically, expecting to have to shift the tank another fraction higher or
lower, he saw that it wouldn’t be needed. The tank sat there as though it had grown out of the metal,

perfectly placed.

He’d done it right.
Warmth welled below his breastbone, and he gave a deep, long sigh of satisfaction as he slowly

filled the tank.

She was ready. She needed to be taken out for a spin, tested against the road.
Then he stretched, suddenly aware of the tightness in his shoulders and neck, and the empty,

gnawing hunger in his gut.

He cast an eye toward the clock. It was late, but the sun was still up, just a handsbreadth over

the horizon.

And there was no sign of Conrad.
Jake scrubbed the motor oil off his hands with a piece of cloth, trying not to think about where

Conrad could be.

But even as he shoved the thought away from him, that tight-strung feeling inside him gave a

twang as if someone had wound the wire tighter.

And then he knew where Conrad was.
Jake sucked in a breath, his eyes wide.
His entire being was being pulled toward Conrad, with a force stronger than gravity. It felt so—

so real. It felt natural.

Throwing down the cloth, he took one step back—it was an effort, to go against the pull—and

threw a leg over Conrad’s motorcycle.

It didn’t feel like a violation to take Conrad’s bike, not anymore. It felt right. She was a part of

him now, after all the work he’d done on her.

Her engine purred to life for him, friendly and ready, eager to take him out into the city.
Jake felt that same eagerness, stirring inside him like a storm.
Conrad was waiting for him.

***

Conrad stood outside the art supply store, cradling a cup of fragrant Japanese tea in his hands,

and watched the low golden sun play through the trees in the small town square. He was standing near
Leo, who kept vigil in the doorway, ready for any customers, though it had to be closing time soon.

Next to them, Henry Wilkins sat on a low bench outside the store, his crooked legs stretched out

in front of him. He was the store’s owner, a wiry old man with bright bird-like eyes, and he had
arrived just as Conrad was preparing to leave.

When Mr Wilkins made tea and invited Conrad to stay a while longer, Conrad agreed. He

suspected Mr Wilkins wanted to check him out, make sure he wasn’t playing some sort of con artist
game with Leo. Since Conrad’s intentions were honest, it was in his own best interests to comply.

Naturally, Mr Wilkins was deeply interested in Conrad’s promise to buy some of Leo’s art.

“Knew someone would see sense,” he said. “I said so, didn’t I, Leo?”

Leo nodded, blushing. “Mr Zimmermann would like to see more of my work first,” he said. “I

do have a few more pieces ready to show—”

Mr Wilkins snorted. “You don’t need to look at me like you’re asking my permission,” he said

acerbically. “If it was anyone but you, I’d think you were talking about an assignation.”

Conrad nearly swallowed his tea in one gulp. “Mr Wilkins, I assure you—” he began.
Mr Wilkins wouldn’t let him finish. “No need to assure me. I know your gallery. Been there a

few times, even, back in the day. The guy who’s running the place is your old man, right? I can see the
resemblance.”

“I—yes,” Conrad managed, surprised. He met Mr Wilkins’s sharp gaze frankly. “I scout for

him, you see.”

Mr Wilkins nodded. “Bet you don’t normally scout for him dressed like that, though.”
Conrad wished he could blush as easily as Leo. He hid his embarrassment in a sip of tea. “I’m

on holiday,” he explained.

It was a good thing nobody knew him here, or they would have laughed. Even on holiday,

Conrad never wore clothes like these—the tiny shorts, the threadbare, often-washed t-shirt with the
mysterious logo on it. But they were precious to him, with their faint scent that made Jake’s presence
feel closer.

And they were—he had to admit it, if only to himself—also intended as something of a

provocation. He was showing a lot more skin than he normally would, and he hoped the effect was at
least a little seductive. Not that that was useful at the moment, because he didn’t want to seduce
anyone but Jake. And he wasn’t so sure that it worked on him, either.

“Huh,” said Mr Wilkins. “Never thought Alexander Zimmermann’s son would want to come

here, of all places. Monte Carlo too crowded for you?” He cackled, so amused at his own joke that it
was a while before he could speak again. Leo watched him with a fond expression, almost like a
grandson humoring his grandfather’s strange sense of fun.

Conrad didn’t bother explaining that Alexander’s other son already lived here. With a

werewolf pack, even, or a biker gang, depending on who you asked. Why borrow trouble?

“Anyway,” Mr Wilkins said at last, “I know you wouldn’t try anything shady with Leo. One,

because I would raise hell, and two, because Kirk will rip your ears off if you do anything to hurt
him.”

Leo didn’t deny this claim, Conrad noticed, despite his blushes.
“Understood,” Conrad said easily, raising the cup of tea in a salute to the canny old man.
After that, Mr Wilkins and Leo began exchanging the town gossip, and Conrad relaxed a little,

drinking the last of his tea.

The wolf inside him was stirring, scrabbling to be let out, almost like a dog straining at the

leash. Not surprising, given the lateness of the hour.

Conrad would have to call Marshall soon; he needed to find Jake. He needed to take him safely

to the pack, while they were still in human form, while he could still speak to them and make them
understand. No—so that he could make Jake understand.

Conrad also needed find something to eat soon. As if on cue, his stomach growled warningly.
He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow with nothing but raw meat in his stomach. The mere

thought made him feel queasy.

From a distance, he began to be aware of another kind of growl, slowly coming closer.
It was a very familiar sound, one Conrad knew in his bones. The sound of a ‘51 Panhead

Chopper motorbike.

His bike.
It had to be. Brand’s pack rode more modern motorbikes, not antiques like this one.
Conrad tried to stand still, tried to regulate the sudden speed of his heartbeat, his breathing.
It didn’t work. The empty cup trembled in his hand.

Leo looked up at him curiously. He might not hear the roar of the bike yet, not with normal

human ears, but he was obviously fast to pick up on other, more social cues. “Something wrong?”

Conrad shook his head wordlessly.
It was ridiculous to feel so—so eager. As if some miracle was about to happen. As if—
He closed his eyes, and drew a slow, deep breath, willing himself to remain calm.
It might not be Jake.
But something deep inside him said, it is.
Conrad didn’t know where that utter certainty came from. It was a strange feeling, as if

something was winding tight inside him: a thread between Jake and him that stretched ever more taut.

Ridiculous, fanciful notion. Werewolves tracked each other by scent, not by—whatever this

feeling was.

Then the roar of the engine came closer, echoing in the quiet streets.
Oblivious to the noise, Mr Wilkins levered himself upright and began the work of closing the

register, while Leo rattled down the metal shutters. It was closing time.

Conrad put down the tea cup on the windowsill and sat down on the bench Mr Wilkins had

vacated, stretched out his long legs, and pretended a relaxation he didn’t feel.

He was going to look casual if it killed him.

***

When Jake rode up to the store, Conrad closed his eyes, letting the sunlight play over his face.
For some reason he couldn’t define, he wanted to draw out the moment. He wanted Jake to see

him first.

The roar of the engine died, and Conrad heard a scraping sound as Jake set the bike on its stand.
Heavy footsteps came closer.
Conrad sprawled on the low bench as bonelessly if he was fast asleep, but his heart raced.
“I can tell you’re not asleep, you idiot,” said a deep voice next to him.
Conrad began to laugh. “Well, hello to you too, then.”
He opened his eyes.
Jake was standing over him, his massive arms crossed over his chest as if to display the sheer

bulk of muscle that swelled beneath the tough motorcycle leathers he was wearing. His heavy brows
frowned, and his expression seemed closed and unpromising as usual, but Conrad saw a gleam of
humor and fond exasperation in his eyes.

The sight of him took Conrad’s breath away to the point where he felt a little faint.
That tight-wound feeling disappeared, replaced by something much stronger, much more

overwhelming, like a powerful rare-earth magnet slamming into place.

“How did you know I was here?” Conrad asked, suddenly serious.
In his mind, the question had an echo. It wasn’t the first time he had asked this. It wasn’t the first

time Jake had found him through some mysterious means. But he still didn’t have any answers.

For a moment, Jake looked thrown. A flicker of something passed over his dark, stern features:

embarrassment? Confusion? Uncertainty? But then Jake’s mouth curved up just a little, and that lost
look vanished.

“Satellite spy network,” Jake said, deadpan. “I installed a chip while you were sleeping.”

Conrad laughed again; he couldn’t help it. He felt exhilarated just from having Jake so close to

him, watching him. It made him feel as though he’d been drinking champagne. “Sit down,” he pleaded.
“You’re giving me a crick in the neck.”

Jake snorted. “How do you think I feel most of the time?”
He sat down close enough that Conrad could feel the warmth of him all along his side.
Heavens, it was such a temptation to just lean his head against Jake’s broad shoulder and sit

here, watch the sun set, watch the moon rise. Stay here forever, with Jake at his side—the thought was
so tempting that it almost hurt.

Because he couldn’t.
The wolf was stirring, and he had no choice but to let that other part of him run free.
He had no choice, not if he wanted to live. But he could delay that fateful moment a little longer.
“Dinner?” Conrad said. He tried to make it sound as urbane as possible, while he breathed in a

slow, luxurious lungful of Jake’s scent. It was one of the most male scents he’d ever encountered,
pure and animalistic without the taint of wolf blood, musky and rich and utterly arousing.

He wanted to bury himself in that scent.
More than that—he wanted to bury himself in Jake.
Or…vice versa.
“Dinner,” Jake confirmed.
Conrad yanked his imagination away from the flood of alluring, arousing images Jake’s scent

called up for him. “It’ll have to be fast food,” Conrad cautioned, wishing he didn’t have to. “By
moonrise, we need to be…” He leaned over and carefully whispered the location of the pack meet in
Jake’s ear.

It was probably unnecessary caution—Mr Wilkins was inside the store going over the register,

and Leo was sweeping up out front but clearly not trying to overhear them—but it was ingrained in
Conrad by now. The only way werewolf packs had survived into modern times was by strategies like
these.

Jake’s thick eyebrows rose. “That far out?” he said in an undertone. Then he shrugged, and

Conrad could feel the resigned acceptance in that shrug. “Okay. I know a place, they’ll serve us the
minute we walk in.”

He looked at Conrad, and Conrad almost wanted to duck away from the intensity of that look.

“You want your bike back?”

Conrad paused, trying to sort out the undertones beneath that simple question. “She looks

beautiful,” he said, and caught the spark of pleasure in Jake’s eyes. “But you’re not done with her yet,
correct?”

Jake nodded. “Not if you want me to do all the work we discussed,” he clarified, looking as if

he wasn’t sure.

Conrad dared to lift his hand and lay it over Jake’s. Nobody was watching, and he was

desperate for that contact. The powerful, work-roughened hand under his felt very warm. Very right.

Mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, howled the wolf. Conrad didn’t bother to try and stifle that inner

voice. He agreed.

“Then she’s yours,” Conrad said, and as soon as he saw Jake’s dark expression lighten, he

knew it was the right choice, the right thing to say. “But for tonight—do you have an extra helmet?”

Jake nodded. Then he turned his hand so that their palms met, and the warm intimacy of that

touch made Conrad’s heart skip a beat.

“I’ll ride with you,” Jake said.

***

Chico’s was hopping tonight, and no wonder. A gorgeous Saturday night, with the air still warm

from the sun—who would want to stay home and cook, when they could sit out in Chico’s back
garden and eat homemade pizza, piping hot from the wood-fired oven?

When Jake strolled in, Conrad in tow, he felt both self-conscious and proud.
Self-conscious, because he hardly ever came to Chico’s through the front entrance. Most of the

time, he walked in late at night by the back door, past the kitchen, and out to the garage where Chico’s
delivery crew parked their scooters. Part of the deal was that the crew brought Jake leftover pizza
while he worked on the scooters, and in return Jake only charged for parts, not for his time. It was
strange to be a regular customer, tonight.

And Jake felt proud of Conrad. In his shorts and t-shirt, Conrad blended well with this casual

crowd of students and tourists and regulars, but still Conrad could never fit in entirely. He was too
beautiful for that. His tall blond good looks drew curious glances and delighted stares, and one
woman in the corner sat frozen, her fork halfway to her mouth, as she watched the both of them walk
in.

Jake edged just a little closer to Conrad, possessively, protectively. In response, Conrad smiled

down at him, and Jake felt his heartbeat stutter.

“Jake! My friend!” Chico called, striding toward them.
Chico was a big, rotund man, but he could move fast. Jake had seen him work, and in the kitchen

Chico was like a ballet dancer, never colliding with any of the busy cooks and servers while he slid
smoking-hot pizzas out of the oven with one smooth motion of the long paddle. “Finally you come
visit, you bring a friend! This is good!”

Jake nodded, and Chico slapped him on the shoulder. “No work tonight, eh?”
“No work,” Jake agreed. “You got a table for us?”
The place was packed, indoors and out, but Chico gave an expressive shrug. He was Sicilian to

the bone, and he talked not just with his hands and feet, but with his entire body. “For you? What do
you think?”

Chico gestured, and magically, in a bustle of servers and a scraping of chairs, a table appeared

in the corner of the garden, underneath the fig tree that was Chico’s pride and joy.

“Listen, Chico,” Jake said in an undervoice. “We can’t stay long. My friend has to be

somewhere. Can you get us drinks and food fast?”

Chico put his hand over his heart, pulling a face as though Jake had said something insulting

about his cooking. “This is how it is? You visit us at last, only to run away? You don’t want to sit
down, you want to eat on the run?”

Jake grinned wryly. “Can’t be helped. But we’ll sit down, anyway. Veggie pizza for my friend,

okay?”

“Of course,” Chico agreed, giving Conrad a curious look. “A pleasure. You sit, try a fig, we

take care of you.”

Conrad nodded a greeting at Chico, looking very tall and polite and remote.
Jake could tell that it wasn’t something Conrad did deliberately. When faced with some new

situation or environment, Conrad tended to go blank, at least on the outside. Some day, Jake would

have to find out how and why Conrad had needed to develop a defense mechanism like that.

Chico looked back at Jake with an expression that said as clear as day, I’m going to talk your

ear off about this later, before hurrying to the kitchen again.

They sat down, and Conrad gave Jake a quizzical look. “You are a regular here, I presume?”
Jake shook his head, then shrugged. “Well, sort of. I work on their scooters.”
“Ah,” Conrad said, smiling. “And clearly they appreciate your expertise.”
Jake didn’t know what to do with the fondness he could hear in Conrad’s voice. It made him

feel warm inside. Trying to cover for it, he reached up and plucked a fig from the branches above
their heads. It was dark purple, soft and ripe, giving a little under his fingers.

“Chico brought a seedling from Sicily,” Jake said. “Every winter, he wraps up the entire tree in

bubble wrap and blankets. It’s his pride and joy.” He picked up a knife, sliced the fig in half. It was
pink on the inside and it smelled wonderful. “Try this.”

Jake had intended to just give Conrad his half of the fig, but Conrad bent forward and—oh.
Jake closed his eyes, but he still felt Conrad’s warm mouth against his palm.
Conrad was eating the fig right out of his hand, deliberately. Provocatively.
Jake swallowed. When he finally opened his eyes again, Conrad met his gaze. “It’s very good,”

he said softly.

It was just like their previous dinner date, at the Turkish restaurant. Apparently Conrad had a

thing about food, and hands, and feeding each other.

Jake had to be honest with himself: Conrad wasn’t the only one.
Even now that Conrad was sitting upright again, looking utterly pleased with himself, Jake

could still feel the warm imprint of Conrad’s lips against his palm.

Now Conrad’s eyes slid shut as he chewed the fig, and he made a little “mmm” sound of

appreciation.

Jake watched him, helplessly aroused by that little moan and Conrad’s mouth. He was

hopelessly lost. He was glad they were sitting down and there was a table between them, or he might
have jumped Conrad right then and there, and to hell with the onlookers.

He ate his own half of the fig, and had to admit that it was excellent. Fresh off the tree, still

warm with the day’s sunlight, the fig melted on the tongue.

“This is wonderful,” Conrad said softly, gesturing at the garden with his long, expressive hands.

“I hope we can return here another day and linger a little more.”

The garden wasn’t big, but it was full of greenery. The brick walls were overgrown with ivy

and flowering clematis, and there were huge potted plants all over the place, including two small
lemon trees that sent a citrus scent into the air.

Jake nodded. “Chico would love that. He’s always bugging me to come and eat here instead of

calling for delivery, but I’m always working.”

Conrad looked a trifle disappointed, but Jake couldn’t figure out why. Then he rewound what

he’d just said, and—oh.

“I’d love it too,” he added, a bit awkwardly, looking at Conrad from the corner of his eye. He

just—this stuff was hard. But it was worth it: Conrad was smiling at him.

No matter how often he saw it, that smile still did things to Jake. That smile showed not just the

beauty that Conrad wore so lightly, but the warmth, the kindness. The understanding.

A server came to their table with a tray of drinks for them to choose from. “Pizza will be here in

a minute,” she said breathlessly.

Jake grinned at the swift, assessing look she gave Conrad as he reached up and chose a soft

drink from her tray.

The kitchen must be buzzing with rumors about the two of them. It wasn’t like Jake had ever

brought anyone here before.

“Busy night, huh?” Jake said, grabbing a tall glass of water with a slice of lemon in it from the

tray. Normally he’d go for beer, but tonight—well. Whatever was going to happen, he had a feeling
he’d better keep a clear head for it.

“Oh, no kidding,” said the server, shaking back her long black hair. “Still, busy is good, hey?

You enjoy your pizza, now.”

“We will,” Jake promised, adding a mental note to himself to leave a good tip.
She strode away, her hips swaying, and Jake watched her for a second. He liked looking at

women—but that was about as far as it went. He’d discovered that pretty early on, and a good thing
too. Probably saved himself a lot of heartbreak that way.

“Listen,” Conrad said, in that compelling soft voice of his.
“Yeah?”
“About tonight—” Conrad began.
Jake stared at him. Conrad wanted to discuss this here? He was pretty sure the werewolf thing

was supposed to be a secret. Conrad had even said he’d never told anyone before.

Conrad ran a hand over his tied-back hair. “I just need to—while I still have words, I should

—”

At that moment, their pizza arrived, and Conrad’s mouth closed as abruptly as an oyster shell

snapping shut.

Jake looked down at his pizza for a moment without really seeing it. He wasn’t sure how to deal

with what Conrad had been saying.

While I still have words? The hell?
What Jake thought of as the werewolf thing was hanging over their evening together, as ominous

as a thundercloud, and it made him itch with uncertainty and a kind of frustration. He wanted to
understand, but he couldn’t.

The werewolf thing was starting to sound more and more like some kind of strange

hallucinatory ritual. Like taking ayahuasca or exotic mushrooms. Not that Jake had personal
experience with any of that; he was too wary of letting his mind go into the wild places. But he’d seen
Garcia under the influence before. Driven him home, too, made sure he had enough water to drink, all
that.

And he’d seen Conrad, too: half out of his mind, barely able to speak, and shaky. Lying around

with no clothes on, alone in an empty house in the middle of the woods…

Yet despite all the evidence, Jake still couldn’t believe that Conrad’s secret had to do with

drugs. He just couldn’t think of any alternative that made sense.

With a soundless sigh, he began to eat his pizza.
At least he knew where he stood with Chico’s pizza. It was damn good, as always.
Not needing to ask, Chico had made the pizza with Jake’s favorite toppings: mozzarella and

tomatoes, fresh basil, slices of prosciutto, and extra pecorino cheese. It should be too salty, too rich,
but it wasn’t. It was melty, crisp, smoky perfection.

Then Jake looked over at Conrad’s plate and boggled. He’d expected that Conrad would be

getting something similar, just without the prosciutto, but it didn’t look like it.

“What on earth did Chico put on your pizza?” he asked, eyeing it dubiously. “What are those

green things?”

Conrad’s mouth quirked up. “Caramelized onions, mozzarella, basil and sage, tomatoes, hot

peppers and artichokes,” he pronounced reverently. “It’s wonderful.”

Jake nodded. Artichokes, huh. He didn’t doubt Chico’s genius, and Conrad was certainly

putting away the pizza at top speed, smiling all the while.

That was what mattered. Whatever happened later tonight, Jake wanted Conrad to enjoy this.
He wanted this to work. Even if they were the most unlikely couple since Romeo and Juliet.
Though from what he’d heard, things didn’t end up so well with them, either.

***

When they were both finished with their pizzas, Conrad knew it was time to go. There was no

need to look at a watch; he had an innate sense of time that told him it was getting close to moonrise.

It was such a pity—he wanted to sit here with Jake under the spreading branches of the fig tree,

and drink Chianti, and talk, and just…be together.

But the wolf in him was raring to get out, and the wolf had no interest in any of those things. The

wolf wanted to run, hunt, and howl.

Conrad sighed and wiped his mouth on a napkin, then stood up.
“I’m sorry to leave,” he told Jake.
Jake nodded, his eyes dark and unreadable, and then turned to Chico who had appeared behind

him as if by magic. “Thanks, Chico, that was great.”

“Next time, you stay all evening!” Chico told him, shaking his fist in a mock-threatening manner.

“You didn’t even taste my limoncello. I made up a new batch, especially for good customers.”

Jake shook his head. “Your limoncello could strip paint,” he said, and his mouth twisted as

though he could taste the sour lemons.

Grinning, Chico slapped him on the shoulder. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
They left without paying, though Jake did his best to stuff dollar bills into Chico’s pockets.

Chico told him, “Next time, you bring your friend, you stay all evening, treat him properly. Then you
can pay. For tonight—pah!”

And with that, they had to be content.
Treat him properly, hmm? Conrad thought.
Chico’s dramatics were amusing, but his sharp eyes missed very little. Clearly, he had divined

that Conrad wasn’t a business associate or a casual acquaintance, but something more. Someone
special. The thought sent a warm glow through Conrad. He wanted very much for that to be true.

They walked to where Conrad’s bike stood parked against a tree, and then they paused. On the

way to Chico’s, Jake had taken control of the bike, with Conrad sitting behind. But now…

Conrad looked at Jake. “You mind if I drive?”
Jake’s eyebrows went up. “It’s your bike.”
“I know that,” Conrad said, smiling.
With a shrug, Jake put on the extra helmet, and then further discussion was impossible.
Conrad eyed the black helmet hiding Jake’s face before putting on his own.
He knew a lot of bikers had a problem with riding in the passenger seat. They called it riding

bitch, and the passenger backrest the sissy bar, and of course, by extension, anyone who sat there was
a sissy. But Jake didn’t seem to share the prejudice.

Conrad swung his leg over, Jake sat down behind him, the engine roared, and they were off.
The bike handled beautifully, now: her balance was better, and she purred as sweetly as a cat.

She was a joy to ride, and Conrad knew he had Jake to thank for it.

He wished he could tell Jake, but that would have to wait for later. Right now, all he could do

was enjoy the speed and the delicious feeling of Jake’s warm body leaning against his.

It was a thrill, Conrad had to admit it. Jake’s arms were locked around his waist, hard and

strong, tight but not so tight he couldn’t breathe.

It felt incredibly intimate to have Jake behind him like this, and it was impossible not to think of

what it would feel like under other circumstances, with no heavy motorcycle armor to get in the way.

Damn the wolf blood, Conrad thought bitterly. If only he was normal, he could take Jake home

with him right now, peel off those leathers and—

It wasn’t the first time he’d resented his heritage, but never as much as now. If it came between

them—if the strangeness of Conrad’s secret drove Jake away from him—he didn’t know what he
would do. There was no cure for werewolf blood.

It wasn’t long before they were out of Sevenacres and riding into the mountains. Conrad could

feel the song of the wolf rising inside him, and he rode faster, eager to be with the pack.

In some more contemplative part of his mind, he wasn’t sure how the pack would receive them.

The fact remained that Conrad had run away from the pack the other night. He’d turned his back on
them. Not a safe thing to do, not at all. And he was only a guest to begin with.

But none of those thoughts mattered to the wolf, and it was the wolf who was in control now.
It took a lot of effort to keep his hands on the handlebars. He had to remember how to ride a

bike, when what his body wanted to do was run.

They drove deeper and deeper into the mountains, far away from civilization. The road surface

changed from asphalt to dirt, and trees began to obscure the view of the road ahead as the track
narrowed and twisted.

Finally they reached the clearing where the pack would gather tonight.
As Conrad had expected, they were the last to arrive.
A circle of men stood waiting for them, and Conrad couldn’t quite still the flutter of nerves in

his stomach when he killed the engine.

This was it.
This was the moment where Jake would see for himself that Conrad’s secret was real.
Whatever would happen after this, Conrad couldn’t go back on his promise now, but despite the

nerves, he found that he didn’t want to.

It felt right. Conrad wanted more from Jake than a casual fling, and he couldn’t ask for that if he

wasn’t honest. Jake had to be involved in this all the way, down to the bone. No secrets.

He removed the helmet and shook out his long hair, which had come loose from the leather tie,

then turned to Jake.

Jake was standing very still, his helmet dangling from his hand. He was staring at the circle of

men, his jaw tight, his muscles tense and ready.

The pack stared back at him.

***

Jake was having some trouble breathing. The concentrated stares of the other men fell on him

like a heavy weight, pushing the air from his lungs.

He squared his shoulders and fought back against that invisible pressure, keeping his feet

planted firmly on the needle-carpeted forest ground, until he regained some room to breathe.

All of them were taller than he was, but none of them were wider in the shoulders. That was

something of a comfort.

He looked from one face in the circle to the next, but he didn’t recognize anyone until he saw

Erick’s smugly superior expression. Jake glared at him, and in return Erick gave him a look as though
Jake was something he wanted to wipe off the sole of his shoe.

“This is Jake,” Conrad said from behind him. “I wanted him to meet the pack and see for

himself what it is that we share.”

“He’s human,” someone said. Someone else snorted as if that was a stupidly obvious thing to

say.

Jake had to agree. I have arms and legs, too, anyone feel the need to talk about that? But he

kept quiet, for Conrad’s sake.

One man stepped forward, drawing all eyes to him as he moved out of the circle.
“Conrad,” he said, in a deep smooth voice that flowed like wine. “You brought trouble to the

pack last night. Now you dare to bring a stranger?”

Conrad stepped forward too, and Jake saw that his cheeks were flushed a little, but he held his

head high. “Jake will not betray our secret,” Conrad said softly. “In fact, at the moment, Jake doesn’t
believe in our secret.”

A dark chuckle ran around the circle.
“Is that so?” said the man in the center. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold. “We are not an

exhibit, Conrad. And I see no need to convince random humans of our existence. The more people
know about us, the bigger threat they become.”

“I vouch for him, Brand,” Conrad said simply.
He stood in an arrow-straight line, his eyes clear, his mouth a fine curving line, and Jake was

struck all over again by the beauty of his posture. He looked like an athlete, an Olympic gymnast
perhaps, with his body perfectly aligned and ready.

Tension rippled through the circle. Jake felt it like an electric charge in the air. His shoulders

tensed up, waiting for that tension to unleash.

“That will not do,” Brand said, shaking his head regretfully. “You are a guest here yourself.

You can’t vouch for someone you only met recently. You know what our rules are. Humans don’t
belong with the pack, or anywhere near the pack.”

Conrad lifted his chin stubbornly. “There is at least one human mated to a wolf in your pack,”

he said.

Jake blinked at him. It was all beginning to sound incredibly weird. Mated to a wolf. And the

way they talked about humans, as if they were another species.

Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t a joke. They were deadly serious.
It sounded as if Jake’s presence was a problem. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave, not now.

Not when he was finally going to get some idea of what the werewolf thing really was.

For a moment, Brand looked surprised, but then he wiped the expression off his face and

became smooth and bland again. “Leo is—exceptional,” he said. “And even so, Leo is not with us
tonight; no human could ever run with the pack. But he let himself be claimed according to our rules,
in front of the pack, to prove himself. Is your Jake willing to do the same?”

Your Jake. It sounded…just right, Jake thought.
But Conrad was flushing more than before, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “That is not

something that we need to discuss tonight,” he said hurriedly. “There is no time. The moon is almost
upon us.” Despite the formality of his words, he sounded rushed, which was very unlike him. And he
looked as if he was, what, embarrassed? Ashamed?

Jake stared at him. What did this claiming mean, exactly?
Why did Conrad not want to discuss it? Was it something—something more than he wanted from

Jake?

Disappointment stabbed at him, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it. He’d known all along that they

were an unlikely match. He would have to ask Conrad about this later, find out what was going on.

Brand folded his arms, his heavy brows lowering into a frown. “You’re playing for time,

Conrad. You know the rules. Jake cannot stay here. The pack would treat him as an intruder.”

“No!” cried Conrad, looking appalled. “I promised he would come to no harm.”
“You don’t speak for us,” Brand said, with a note of finality in his rich voice. “We’re not bound

by your promise. I’m sorry, but he has to go, or face the consequences.”

Conrad flinched as if Brand had struck him.
Jake’s hands balled into fists when he saw that, and he stepped forward.
Everyone stared at him, and Brand’s eyes widened as he approached.
“I can speak for myself,” Jake said pointedly. “You don’t want me here? Well, I don’t blame

you. I don’t particularly want to be here, either.” He took a deep breath, drawing back his shoulders.
“Whatever weird thing you’re doing here, you have my word I won’t tell anyone. But I have to see it
for myself. Because it matters to Conrad. And that means it matters to me.”

Brand gave a snort that was almost a laugh, and he looked both surprised and impressed.

“You’ve got some nerve, human.”

He stared at Jake, a stare so heavy that it was almost a physical weight on Jake’s shoulders. It

felt like that stare was demanding something from him—obedience, maybe. All it did was get Jake’s
attention.

Frowning, Jake stared right back, without blinking.
Brand sniffed, and some of the other men in the circle did too, as if they all had a cold. “How

did you—hmm.” He paused, and there was some muttered discussion in the circle that Jake couldn’t
quite hear. “You are unusually strong. Interesting.”

Jake lifted his chin. “I can go one on one with anyone here, if that’s what it takes.”
He knew he could do it, too, if it came down to a fight. Tall guys were always overconfident.

They went down faster that way. Jake had never been the one to start a bar fight, but he was usually
the one to finish them.

“A challenge?” Brand murmured. “From a human? How unusual.”
Conrad was shaking his head, long blond hair flying, and he looked desperately worried. “No,

no challenges. You’d change in the middle of the challenge, Brand. That’s hardly fair.”

Brand’s shoulders dropped a little, acknowledging Conrad’s point. “That is true enough,” he

admitted. Then he gave Conrad a sharp look. “Are you staying with the pack tonight, then? If you run
off one more time, that’s it. I hope you know that. We don’t take in strays.”

Conrad nodded, a crisp movement. “I’ll stay with the pack.”
Brand looked all around the circle of men, as if gauging their tempers, then back at Jake. “We’re

running out of time. I don’t want human blood spilled here, and for that you may count yourself lucky.
We will address your challenge…later. At the moment, I will give you two choices: leave now, or go

there.”

Brand pointed to a dark, blocky shape high up in the trees. “That is an old hunter’s blind, a hide-

out. It’s empty. If you want to stay, climb up there. Don’t come down until we are long gone, and
don’t tell anyone what you saw here, ever. Understand?” His tone was brisk, and Jake had a
suspicion that this man had been in the military.

It grated on him, to be given orders like this. There was a reason Jake had never wanted to work

for anyone but himself. His fists itched with the urge to smash a good punch into Brand’s smug face
and start a fight, rather than take the guy’s orders.

But there was a problem with that, and the problem had a name.
Conrad.
Conrad was looking at him pleadingly, his eyes wide and worried, his hands spread open as if

urging him to accept the choice Brand had offered him.

Jake couldn’t ignore that plea.
“All right,” Jake said grudgingly. He said it to Conrad, ignoring Brand and all the other men.

“Are you coming back here?” he added.

“I—yes,” Conrad said. He looked relieved, but still a little worried. “We’ll all be back before

the moon sets. But surely you don’t want to stay here that long?”

Jake snorted. “I’m not hunting you down through the woods again. You come back after doing…

whatever you’re supposed to be doing here tonight, and I’ll drive you home. Okay?”

“...okay,” Conrad said. “Just—promise me you’ll stay up there. Be safe. Please?”
Conrad looked as if he was about to beg, and Jake couldn’t take it.
“Fine,” he said gruffly.
Conrad sighed with relief. His eyes were shining, full of feeling.
Jake wanted to kiss him desperately, but not in front of all these guys.
Still, when Conrad smiled into his eyes, it was just for him.

***

Jake crashed through the undergrowth until he found the tree with the hunter’s blind. It looked

like a long way up, and the only way to get there was a rope ladder.

With a sigh, Jake spat into his hands and began to climb. This wasn’t his idea of a good time,

but at least he would have a better view from up there.

Right now, he still had no idea what Conrad, Brand and all those other bikers were doing here.

He could hear their voices, talking in low tones. They sounded so serious, solemn almost. Not like
guys having a drug party out in the woods, that was for sure.

Maybe they’re all going to dress up in wolf costumes and hold hands and sing campfire

songs.

Jake snorted to himself. The absurd image made him feel a little better.
He climbed higher and didn’t look down. The tree creaked and swayed, and he just hoped the

ladder was strong enough to hold his weight.

Conrad, I hope you know you’re the only reason I’m doing this, he thought.
When he finally reached the hunter’s blind, he was relieved to see that it wasn’t just a place to

stand and cling to the tree. It was a tiny enclosure, mostly just a canvas roof and floor painted dark

green, but there was a wooden seat that looked sturdy enough, built into a large curving branch of the
tree.

With a sigh, he dropped down onto the seat, and found that he was looking down directly into

the clearing.

The view was perfect. The approach of twilight made all the colors grey, but he could still

distinguish Conrad by his bright hair, and Brand by the way he stood. The other men were more
indistinguishable, except for Erick: another head of silvery blond hair.

Jake blinked and tried to focus his eyes.
Were they—no, he had to be wrong. Were they undressing?
He wasn’t wrong.
The entire group was getting naked, Conrad included.
If this was turning out to be some kind of group sex thing…
Jake swallowed hard. It might be some people’s fantasy, but he didn’t like the idea of it, not at

all. Not when Conrad was involved. What those other guys got up to was their business, but—

Conrad’s mine.
Was that why Brand ordered Jake to climb up here, safely out of the way, just so they could get

their hands on Conrad?

But no, that didn’t make sense. Brand had to know Jake would have a perfect view of what they

were up to, and that he wouldn’t hesitate to race back to the clearing if anyone went too far.

It didn’t take long before the entire group of men was naked, and Jake watched with narrowed

eyes, his heart hammering.

If anyone dared to touch Conrad…
But the bikers weren’t closing in on Conrad, or anyone else. They were stacking up their

clothes, their boots and motorcycle helmets, and stowing them away in the saddlebags of the bikes. It
looked orderly, like something they’d done a million times before.

Then they came back to the middle of the clearing and stood in a loose circle, naked as the day

they were born, all of them. Conrad was in the circle this time, too, off to the left.

Jake watched him, and tried to ignore the worry he felt.
Nothing about this made any sense. They were just standing there.
Nobody even said anything.
It was like they were waiting for something.
The sky grew a little darker, and then brighter again toward the east, and still there was no

sound but the wind rushing through the leaves, and the creaking of the trees. It was almost hypnotic.

Then someone cried out. It wasn’t Conrad, it was one of the other men, but it startled Jake all

the same. He gripped a branch of the tree and stared down, trying to see what was going on.

One of the bikers fell to his knees and rolled over. Then another. Soon, the entire circle was on

the ground, and some of them were moaning.

They didn’t look as if they were on drugs. Besides, Jake had been watching closely the entire

time, and he hadn’t seen them take anything or hand anything around.

What the hell was happening?
Conrad was on the ground, too, lying on his side, his long hair spilling over one shoulder.
Something about his posture reminded Jake vividly of the scene at the empty house where he’d

found Conrad. He’d been lying down just like this, naked like this, curled up, vulnerable—why?

Suddenly, every single one of the naked bodies lying in that grotesque circle began to move.

Shaking, uncoordinated movement, their limbs flying. It looked like they were all having an epileptic

fit. There were cries, groans.

Jake shivered. It didn’t look right, whatever this was. It looked like it was hurting them.
The last thing he wanted to do was stay up here out of harm’s way, while something down there

was hurting Conrad.

But he’d promised.
Goddamn it, he’d promised Conrad, and Jake had never been a guy to go back on his word. It

wouldn’t be a great start to their relationship to break his word now, and it obviously meant a lot to
Conrad.

Jake had to stay up here, where he could be of no help to anyone.
Grinding his teeth, Jake focused again on the bizarre scene below.
Conrad was on his hands and knees now, and so were most of the other men. He was still

shaking, his long hair hanging down, and he was—

Jake swallowed. He rubbed his eyes, then shook his head desperately to clear it. But none of it

made any difference to what he was seeing.

—he was changing. Conrad’s legs were changing shape, growing darker, hairier. So were his

arms. Glossy fur sprouted along his back, and there was—there was a tail coming out between his
legs. Long, furry, and unmistakable. And his ears were growing longer, pointier. His mouth and chin
changed shape, changing into a long narrow jaw full of sharp teeth.

Jake stared until his eyes watered, but he couldn’t look away.
He knew damn well that he wasn’t dreaming. His heart beat in his chest like a steel hammer,

and drops of sweat rolled down his spine, but his head felt clear, focused.

This was real.
It was happening.
He hadn’t imagined for a second that Conrad could be speaking the literal truth. It was too

crazy.

But here it was, in front of his eyes, growing clearer by the second: the truth Jake had been

denying all along.

Right here, right now, Conrad was turning into a wolf. And so was everyone else in the

clearing.

Everyone but Jake.

***

When the moon was just over the horizon, bathing the woods in a soft silver light, the

transformation was complete. Jake gripped the wooden supports of the hunter’s blind, his heart in his
throat, and watched the wolves below.

They looked much bigger than normal wolves. Huge, powerful, with broad paws and wicked

teeth. The stuff of nightmares.

And they were howling.
It didn’t look like they were just howling at the moon. It was more like they were threatening

something.

Or someone.
Was it him? They must have caught his scent.

Jake wondered what would happen to him if he climbed down. Would they attack him? Would

they rip him apart? Would Conrad wake up in the morning with the taste of blood in his mouth?

Jake shook his head, dispelling the horrible images. He wasn’t going to let that happen.
He would keep his promise to Conrad and stay up here in the tiny hunter’s blind, even if it was

already beginning to feel uncomfortably narrow and cramped.

The wolves were moving now, milling around each other, sniffing at each other. They seemed to

have lost interest in Jake for the moment.

Jake could still tell which one was Conrad. Even as a wolf, he was beautiful, with a silvery

coat and glowing green eyes.

That was possibly the strangest thing at all. The wolf looked nothing like Conrad—and yet

exactly like Conrad. Jake could have recognized him anywhere, now that he knew the secret Conrad
had tried so hard to tell him.

Jake still felt that strange magnetic pull toward him, even though Conrad was in wolf form. It

tugged at him, urging him to come down from the tree, to join Conrad and mingle with the wolf pack.

Jake did his best to ignore that urge, but he was startled by the strength of it. It felt as

inescapable as gravity.

A few wolves howled again, but then they were gathering, drawing together in one tight,

compact formation.

Conrad was in the middle.
Erick—easy to recognize, with his light coat—was all the way at the back.
Brand was in front, still obviously the leader.
And another wolf was joining them, a huge dark one who seemed to appear out of nowhere,

loping up to Brand as if to exchange greetings. He looked powerful, and Jake thought for a second that
the two wolves were going to square off and fight, but instead the dark wolf just fell in line behind the
leader.

Then they were off to the hunt.
Jake’s breath caught as he watched the wolf pack leave the clearing.
They were fast as the wind, soundless, their coats rippling in the moonlight. Beautiful.
Who knew that a pack of predators could be so beautiful?

***

Conrad ran with the pack. That was all that mattered.
The human side of him, the creature with all the thoughts and words jammed up in its skull, was

quiet at last. Or at least quiet enough not to distract the wolf.

Running, running. There were no deer tonight, not within miles, and Brand was leading them

deeper into the mountains to scout for prey.

It was a long run. But his paws were striking soft earth, his tail was flying behind him, the wind

roared in his ears, and it was all good. The moon was silver, painting the forest with unearthly light.

There was only one thing that marred the sheer joy of the hunt.
Jake should be here.
Conrad could almost feel Jake behind him, so far away now. Up in the tree, alone.
Alone under the moon, when no one should be alone. Everyone should be with the pack.

But Jake isn’t a wolf.
Conrad snorted, trying to drive the unwelcome thought out.
He didn’t want to think. He wanted to run.
But he could still feel the absence of Jake.
It felt strange. It felt like something was missing, somewhere in his body. An emptiness.
And he could feel that absence tugging at him—he could feel Jake’s presence, so far behind

him. It was new, it was different. Neither the wolf nor the human knew what to make of it. But it
didn’t feel wrong; it felt like something had slid into place that was always missing before.

Conrad shook his head and picked up the pace.
Just run.

***

Moonset came far too soon. They only barely made it back in time.
The change was beginning already, even before the wolf pack ran into the clearing. Brand had

cut it very fine, taking them so deep into the mountains, and they still hadn’t found any deer. A long
run. They were all tired now, tired and still hungry.

The change fell upon them all like an avalanche, driving them to their knees.
Conrad growled, curling up on himself. Pain shot through his body, and he could feel his bones

shifting. His tendons creaked, his muscles hurt like fire. It was agony, and it seemed to last forever.

How he hated this, the terrifying state inbetween human and wolf.
Conrad didn’t know what he was right now. He didn’t know where he was. His limbs wouldn’t

obey him. His heart beat too fast, then too slow. His thoughts spiraled out of control, impossible to
grasp.

But after a century or two, or maybe more like ten minutes—how could he tell?—he felt

different. Better.

Someone was with him.
Conrad’s fur seemed to be missing, and his back felt naked and cold. But now there was an arm

around his shoulders. A very strong, broad arm.

And the scent—ah, the scent was so familiar and welcome that he made a low pleased sound,

deep in his throat. Half a wolf growl, half a human moan.

Jake was here. Wherever here was.
Jake was with him.
Conrad curled up against that strength, sighing with pleasure. Jake only wrapped his arms

around him tighter and held on. As immovable as a rock, as warm as the sun, he was the center of
Conrad’s world right now.

It still hurt. The wolf wouldn’t let go of Conrad’s body, and every shift of his bones was a jet of

agony. But it was a hurt he could deal with, now that he knew he was safe.

Around him, he heard other cries, other moans. The pack was still here, transforming back into

human just as he was. But they didn’t have anyone to hold them and comfort them and carry them
through the pain.

Conrad was lucky, and he knew it.
Or at least he knew it right now.

He hoped he would remember this feeling when he was back to being all the way human. He

hoped he would have the grace to thank Jake properly.

But at the moment, all he wanted to do was let Jake hold him.

***

They roared back into town on Conrad’s motorcycle, which now purred as smoothly as a

panther.

Jake was sitting in front again, while Conrad pressed himself close to Jake’s back and wound

his arms around Jake’s waist. Clearly Conrad didn’t care what anyone would think, and Jake had to
admit he liked that. He liked having Conrad so close to him, so publicly. And there was no way he
would let Conrad drive, anyway, not when he was in this condition.

Now, at last, he knew why Conrad was so exhausted, so wrecked.
It was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen—the way Conrad shifted slowly back into human

shape, the fur just melting away, his bones creaking as they moved.

Possibly Jake should have stayed up in the tree until the transformation was done. But he

couldn’t. Not when he heard Conrad—the wolf—cry out in pain. Not when he saw Conrad curl up on
the forest floor, shivering and moaning, clearly in agony.

He’d raced down the ladder, nearly falling out of the tree, and reached Conrad just as his body

began to twist and contort.

The entire wolf pack was transforming around him, but Jake hardly noticed. He only had eyes

for Conrad.

The worst of it was that he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t stop the pain, and he couldn’t

make things better for Conrad in any way, though at least holding on to him seemed to help a little.

Certainly, Conrad wasn’t as out of it this morning as he’d been when Jake found him in the

empty house. He’d been able to put his clothes on by himself, and right now he seemed pretty lucid.
He had a good enough control over himself that he was able to ride as passenger on a motorcycle
without falling off.

Still, Jake drove carefully, avoiding potholes and mud slides, as though he was carrying

precious cargo. Well, he was.

He took the last corner, and then they were in front of his workshop. The engine purred to a

stop, and Conrad slid off the back seat. He looked a little wobbly, but he kept to his feet.

Jake got off the bike too and opened the workshop door. Then he motioned Conrad inside.
Docilely, Conrad followed.
Jake realized, as he led the way upstairs, that he hadn’t really asked Conrad anything.
Where do you want to go? Do you want my company?
He hadn’t even offered to drive Conrad back to that bed & breakfast place. But somehow, it

didn’t feel as though he was being presumptuous.

It felt right, to take Conrad home like this. To care for him.
And now Jake knew why Conrad needed the care.
Conrad wasn’t weak, or sick, or on drugs. He was shaky because he’d just undergone something

that should have been impossible—something that looked as though it ought to be killing him.

Human bones couldn’t shift like that. Human flesh and skin couldn’t do what Jake had seen them

do.

But Conrad’s could. And he had to be strong to be able to do it at all, but still it hurt him.
That was the hell of it. Being a wolf for a couple of nights a month didn’t seem so bad. Seemed

like it would be kind of fun, actually. The way those wolves moved, with such graceful strength, it
had to feel good to run through the woods in that shape.

But it hurt to get into that shape, and out of it.
Jake couldn’t like it. He didn’t want anything to hurt Conrad like that. And he hated that there

was nothing he could do to fix it.

In the meantime, Jake’s worldview had been shaken upside down and turned around, but it

almost didn’t seem like that was a big deal anymore.

So, fine: werewolves existed.
Jake could be as stubborn as the next guy—okay, more stubborn than the next guy—but he

wasn’t going to question what he’d seen. Conrad had gone to some pains to show him the truth, and
Jake didn’t doubt that it was real. It wasn’t a hallucination or a magic trick. He could still smell the
musky, woody scent of Conrad’s fur coat. It seemed to cling to him, even though the actual fur wasn’t
there any longer.

He unlocked the door to the loft, and Conrad stepped through, still looking like he wasn’t

entirely there.

This time, Jake could understand that a little better.
It had to do a number on your head, to change back and forth like that. Maybe part of Conrad

was still thinking he was a wolf. Maybe he needed a little time to get himself sorted out.

That was all right.
Jake would give him all the time he needed.

***

It was almost beginning to feel like a routine: coming home in the early morning after a tense,

long and sleepless night, with a shivering Conrad in tow.

Jake yawned, rubbed at his eyes, and stretched. “It’s a good thing you’re not a wolf every

night,” he said absently, while he stoked the fire in the old pot-bellied stove that heated the loft. “I
need more sleep than this.”

Conrad sank into the couch in front of the stove and gave a little moan of agreement. His long

legs dangled over the edge of the sofa, and Jake tugged the Converse off his feet. Long, narrow, pale
feet.

Giving in to impulse, Jake bent over and kissed the arches of those feet. Soft skin under his lips.

No trace of fur, except for that woodsy scent.

“Mmm,” Conrad said softly. His eyes were closed, showing a tracery of pale blue veins over

the lids. He looked very tired, and he sprawled over the sofa as bonelessly as a cat.

“Don’t fall asleep there,” Jake said. “You’ll get a crick in the neck.”
“Mm.”
Jake eyed him closely. Was he asleep already? If so, Jake would let him be for a little while.

Maybe wake him up later, if he could bring himself to do it.

“I need food, then sleep,” Jake muttered to himself. He stalked over to the kitchen area, which

somehow hadn’t miraculously restocked itself in his absence. But hey, there were still hamburgers in
the freezer.

Hamburgers for breakfast? Why not—wait, no.
Conrad was still a vegetarian. How he managed that as a wolf, Jake had no idea. Maybe that

was the point; maybe he was vegetarian by way of compensation for the wolf.

“You hungry?” he called over his shoulder, then wanted to slap himself. Conrad might be asleep

already.

Barely stirring, Conrad grunted something in return. It sounded grumpy, and Jake bit back a

smile.

Could you get a hangover from being a wolf?
It sure sounded like a hangover.
Okay, scrambled eggs for Conrad, and a hamburger for Jake. He could do that.
Butter sizzled in the pan, and he began to work.
In another life, he could have made a living as a short-order cook. Nothing fancy, just plain

food, cooked fast and to order. He was good at that, though he’d nearly let the toast burn the last time
he’d tried to make breakfast for Conrad. That was just because Conrad could be distracting, even
when he didn’t mean to be.

Even now, Jake couldn’t help stealing glances at him now and then. His long hair had come

untied again, and it fanned out over the couch cushions like a curtain of gold.

Conrad looked tired, and no wonder, but still beautiful. Yet it wasn’t just looks that made him

so irresistible, Jake was sure of that. Heck, Erick was just as good-looking as Conrad, and the only
thing Jake felt toward Erick was a strong desire to land a good hit on that perfect jaw and watch him
go down like a felled tree.

With Conrad, it was more than basic attraction. That strong sense of belonging Jake felt with

him was something he’d never experienced before. It wasn’t just lust, though that was certainly
present. It was all kinds of other feelings, tied up in a complicated knot that he was still trying to
unravel. He wanted to share Conrad’s life; he wanted to help him; he wanted to take care of him.
Make him breakfast.

Jake shook his head. Focus on that last thing, okay? he told himself, and went back to stirring

the scrambled eggs.

When the food was ready, he toasted sliced of frozen bread, and poured coffee for both of them.

He didn’t think Conrad would mind that the mugs were chipped.

Then he brought it all over to the couch, where Conrad had barely stirred, and nudged him with

a knee. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Got you breakfast.”

Conrad opened one eye, and then his mouth curved up a little. “That’s not how you wake

Sleeping Beauty,” he said sternly, and closed his eye again.

Jake stood there for a second, nonplussed, then began to grin. If Conrad could say something

like that, he was certainly feeling better.

He put down the food and bent over, leaning down on the soft couch cushion with his elbow,

and gave Conrad a kiss.

He’d been going for sweet and light: a fairytale kiss. Not that Jake was remotely related to any

kind of Prince Charming.

But Conrad didn’t seem interested in sweet and light. His hands locked behind Jake’s head, and

he deepened the kiss with an assurance that Jake couldn’t resist. He leaned in further and let Conrad
ravish his mouth until they were both short of breath.

Then, reluctantly, he pulled away.
Conrad was smiling up at him, looking like a debauched prince from a very different sort of

fairytale.

Jake stroked a strand of silky blond hair away from his face. “C’mon,” he said softly. “I bet you

have to refuel after a night like that.”

He set out the food and coffee on the upturned box that served as a table, and Conrad heaved

himself upright, took up a fork, and attacked the scrambled eggs with gusto.

Jake’s stomach started to growl as if on cue, and he sat down and picked up the other plate.
For a while, neither of them spoke, and they concentrated on shoveling food into their

alarmingly empty stomachs. It felt comfortable and easy, as though they’d been having breakfast
together for a long time.

When there was nothing left but a few crumbs of toast, Jake put down his plate and tried to

think. He had questions he wanted to ask Conrad—but at the same time, he didn’t want to do anything
to disturb this simple, peaceful moment.

Conrad forestalled him. “How are you feeling?” he said in that soft voice.
Jake blinked. “How am I feeling?”
“You spent all night in that tree,” Conrad said, lifting his fine blond brows. “It must have been

so cold and cramped—I can’t imagine how you can even move right now. And you—” he hesitated,
looking as though he was searching for words, which was incredibly unlike him. “You saw me
change.” His lashes swept down, and he looked away as if he didn’t want to see Jake’s reaction.

Jake reached out and covered Conrad’s long hand with his own. “It’s okay,” he said. “Yeah, it

was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, but now I know it’s real. That’s what matters. I get it now.”

“And you—you’re not repulsed?”
Jake stared at him. “Repulsed? By what?”
Conrad shook his head, giving Jake an exasperated look that seemed to cover up a deeper hurt.

“You can’t possibly want a boyfriend who’s part animal. A throwback who runs around on four legs
and howls at the moon.”

For a split second, Jake wondered how to handle this. It was obvious that his acceptance

mattered deeply to Conrad, but there was just no way Jake could let the words you’re beautiful even
as a wolf come out of his mouth.

Conrad was frowning now, looking so serious and worried. Maybe it was Jake’s job to lighten

him up a little, as unlikely as that sounded. Hah, Garcia would laugh for days.

“Well, that depends,” Jake said, pretending to frown. “I wouldn’t want Brand to be my

boyfriend. He talks too much.”

Jake kept hold of Conrad’s hand, and he inched a little closer to him on the couch. There was an

empty plate sitting between them, and it was in the way, but he pretended not to notice. Keeping eye
contact with Conrad was more important right now.

Conrad’s hand jerked under his in surprise. “I wasn’t offering Brand’s…services.”
“Oh,” Jake said. “Well then. Whose services were you offering?”
He’d expected Conrad to smile, but instead he growled, low in his throat.
Jake looked up, startled. It was the most wolf-like thing he’d ever seen Conrad do, at least in

this shape.

“Mine,” Conrad said, drop-dead serious.
Jake swallowed. He couldn’t look away from Conrad. That word sent a jolt of desire straight

up his spine, and he kept hold of Conrad’s hand like a lifeline.

“I want you,” Conrad continued, low but silky-voiced. “I want to be with you. But I don’t know

if it’s possible. Humans and werewolves don’t usually get along, let alone—mate.”

“So what,” Jake said with a shrug, pretending to more assurance than he felt. “We can be the

first to make it work.” Inspiration hit him, and he tilted his head. “Weren’t you saying something
earlier, in the clearing? About there being at least one other human-werewolf match in the pack?”

Conrad nodded, but he still looked uneasy. “Yes. It’s just—from what Brand said, they have

rules about that kind of thing. Rules that can impose a heavy penalty on any such pair.”

Jake tilted his head. “So why do you care about what Brand’s rules are, or his pack’s? Can’t

you make your own rules?”

“That’s—a good question,” Conrad said. He smiled a little ruefully. “I was thinking that I’d like

to live here, you see. At least part of the time. I do have to travel a lot for work. But while I’m here—
well, I do feel I should abide by the rules of the pack. It’s very difficult to be a wolf alone, and it
makes the transition much more difficult, too. I’ve never run with a pack full-time, but on those full
moon days, it’s a huge relief to know that I won’t be alone when the change comes.”

Jake took a long, slow breath, assimilating all of that. Joy was singing inside him, just below his

breastbone. Conrad wants to live here.

“What is it you actually do?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Conrad blinked, looked perplexed at the change of subject, and then smiled ruefully. “I never

told you?”

Jake shook his head.
Conrad absently picked up the plate that lay on the couch between them and put it on the floor.

That was a good sign, Jake thought, and he moved in a little closer.

“I’m an art dealer,” Conrad said. “Or well, a scout, to be more accurate. I travel the country and

try to find works of art that can be sold at my father’s gallery, or auctioned off if the demand is high
enough.”

“I knew you weren’t an investment banker,” Jake said, grinning when Conrad looked offended.
“Certainly not!” Conrad said, his nose in the air, though Jake could tell he was exaggerating the

offense. “Bankers have no souls.”

“You can really make a living at that?” Jake had to ask. “Buying paintings from people?”
It was weird, how that changed everything.
He’d been so sure that Conrad was in some social stratosphere, somewhere high above him,

and would never come down. A lawyer or a banker had responsibilities Jake wouldn’t understand,
and they aspired to a style of living he would never want to share. But this—it sounded almost
understandable. Buying things, selling them for a higher price. Okay, so the things were art. But the
process was the same as if they were vegetables, surely. And it wasn’t a nine-to-five office job,
either.

Conrad gave him a soft smile that make Jake’s pulse jump. “Oh, yes,” he said. “A very good

living, if you have the right skills. It doesn’t sound much like work, does it?”

Jake shrugged. “I bet you’re good at it,” he said, smiling back. “You find anything worth buying

here?”

“I did, actually,” Conrad said. “And it may turn out to be very helpful that I did. As long as the

artist is still willing to talk to me…” His voice trailed off, and he appeared lost in thought.

Jake was feeling more sure of his ground, now that the plate was out of the way. He put his arm

around Conrad, drawing his head against his shoulder. “I heard what you told your dad,” he said into
Conrad’s ear. “You’re on holiday.”

“Mm,” Conrad said, sounding distracted. He shivered when Jake’s warm breath wafted past his

ear.

“A holiday means you get time off,” Jake told him. “Time for other things than work.”
Conrad was beginning to smile again, his mouth curving up subtly. “Oh?”
Jake kissed his neck, then licked a broad stripe up to his ear. He tasted delicious.
Conrad’s shiver was more pronounced this time, and he gave a little moan.
“I want to hear you make more noise than that,” Jake told him, speaking into his ear just to make

him shiver again.

“Oh?” said Conrad again, and this time it sounded more provocative than before. “And why

would I do that?”

Jake let his free hand wander down Conrad’s chest. “I’ll have to find out.” His fingers dug

under the edge of Conrad’s t-shirt, finding soft warm skin.

Conrad’s head tipped back a little, exposing the long curve of his neck, and his eyes closed.

“Mmm. I don’t know if that’s a promise or a threat.”

Jake had to grin, not that Conrad could see it. “I’ll let you know,” he said, and let his fingers

trail over the soft skin of Conrad’s waist. If he was ticklish, this was the moment where Jake would
know it.

But Conrad just moaned again, barely audible, and let his head fall back against the couch

cushion.

It felt amazing, to have Conrad trust him like this. His eyes were still closed, and he bit his lip

as Jake let his fingers roam over his bare chest. Then Conrad’s legs fell apart as if by accident,
exposing the bulge in those tiny shorts.

Jake smiled, watching him, and nuzzled his neck. “You want more?” he said, trying to keep his

voice low.

It mattered, more than he wanted it to matter. He wanted to hear Conrad say yes to him.
Conrad knew how to say things like that, much better than Jake did.
Jake would have to make up for it by touch.
He drew circles on Conrad’s stomach, then began to lift the t-shirt over Conrad’s head.
As much as he enjoyed seeing Conrad wearing his clothes, right now he wanted them off. He

wanted to map Conrad with his hands, his mouth.

His own arousal was becoming overwhelming, but he held it back. Conrad’s pleasure mattered

more, right now.

Conrad reached up and helped get the t-shirt off, then flopped back against the couch, sighing,

his hair fanning out over his bare shoulder. “These shorts are becoming rather…confining,” he
complained, flicking Jake a mischievous look from under his pale blond lashes.

Jake nodded seriously. “I can see that.” But he didn’t do anything about it, not yet.
Instead, he trailed his fingers over Conrad’s waistband, then down over the bulge.
Conrad’s hips came up off the couch, and he moaned. “Oh—”
Such a sweet sound. Jake couldn’t get enough of it.
He leaned down and let his mouth follow his fingers. He licked at the cloth confining Conrad’s

arousal, and Conrad’s moans became strained and urgent.

The pressure of those tight shorts was becoming painful, Jake could tell. He had to work at the

buttons, but finally he got them open, and Conrad gave a great sigh of relief.

Without being asked, Conrad lifted up his hips, and Jake managed to get the shorts and the

underwear off him in one move.

Sprawling there, now completely naked, Conrad looked like a model for a dirty magazine,

except for the tired lines around his eyes. Jake wanted to ease those lines, and the best way he could
think of was to make Conrad feel good. To make him moan for a good reason.

He took a breath and bent forward again, but suddenly Conrad’s hand was on his shoulder,

restraining him.

Jake blinked upward, confused and a little worried. Did Conrad not want him to—?
“Take your clothes off,” Conrad said. “Please. I—I want to see you.” He sounded urgent and

pleading, and there was no doubting his sincerity.

For a moment, Jake was thrown. It wasn’t his first time doing this, but he had never, ever had

someone stop him before the start of a blow job, just because they wanted to see him naked.

But then—this wasn’t just a blow job. This was Conrad. And Conrad wanted more of him.
Feeling weirdly proud as well as embarrassed, Jake stood up and began to strip, throwing his

Ramones t-shirt onto the floor and kicking off his boots.

Conrad followed his every move, staring at him unblinking, as if he was the most fascinating

sight Conrad had ever seen.

Jake undid the buttons on his jeans, and then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his

jeans and slowly began to ease them down his hips, taking a little more time than he normally would.

It was a weird feeling. He’d never done a striptease before, and he hadn’t planned to do one

now—but Conrad’s eyes begged him to. Conrad wanted to see him.

Conrad wanted him, not just some anonymous mouth on his cock.
That knowledge went to Jake’s head like a shot of tequila. He didn’t feel embarrassed as he

slowly, slowly slid down his jeans; he just watched Conrad watch him, with that rapt look in his
eyes.

It felt like an electric charge, a wire stretched taut between them and zinging with energy.
Jake didn’t look away.
Neither did Conrad.
When Jake’s jeans slid down to the floor at last, leaving only his cotton briefs, Conrad sighed a

little with what sounded like pure pleasure. There was a spot of color burning in his cheeks, and he
no longer looked so tired; he looked eager, alive. “Let me?” he said.

Jake nodded and moved closer until he was standing over Conrad.
It felt strangely powerful, to stand still and let Conrad take over, to let those long fingers gently

ease down the briefs over his straining erection.

“That’s right,” Conrad said softly. “Oh, you’re ready for me, aren’t you.” He moved in closer,

his hands sliding to cup Jake’s ass.

Jake closed his eyes when he felt the first slick touch of Conrad’s tongue against the head of his

cock. He already knew just how good Conrad was at this, and just how satisfying it felt to thrust down
that supple throat.

But he didn’t want to just stand there and take what Conrad had to offer, not again. He’d been

selfish enough the last time. Jake tensed, preparing to pull away.

Conrad must have felt something of the tension, because he looked up at Jake with a charmingly

mischievous smile. “I could come just from this,” he said softly, then licked a long wet stripe up
Jake’s cock as if to punctuate that statement. “Just from sucking you, you gorgeous man. So don’t stand
there with that martyred look on your face.”

“I—sorry,” Jake said, confused, surprised, and hopelessly turned on. Conrad thought he was

gorgeous? “Just—I want to—”

“Yes?” Conrad said when he stopped. “Tell me.”
Jake closed his eyes. How was it so easy for Conrad to talk about these things? For Jake, it was

the hardest thing in the world. “I want to touch you, too,” he said at last. “I want to taste you.”

“Mmm,” Conrad hummed, licking Jake again and making him shiver. “We can do that. Come lie

on the couch with me, and we’ll make it work.” He made it sound so inviting that Jake was already
kneeling on the couch before Conrad had finished speaking.

The couch was old soft leather, broad enough for the two of them to lie side by side. It took a

little work and a few near-misses with elbows and knees, but finally Jake was lying down opposite
Conrad, his head pillowed on Conrad’s thigh.

It felt strange but wonderful. He was looking right at Conrad’s cock, which curved upwards

provocatively.

Jake leaned forward, pressing himself closer against the long lines of Conrad’s body. He

sucked the head of Conrad’s cock into his mouth, and then jerked forward as he felt Conrad do the
same to him.

Jake was so close already, just from that. Conrad’s mouth was hot and wet, and Jake had to

concentrate hard on what he was doing.

Conrad tasted warm and salty, a little musky, and Jake sucked him in deeper, wanting more. He

could feel Conrad shiver, his hips lifting up automatically, pushing himself deeper.

Everything around Jake seemed to vanish, his world closing in until it only contained the two of

them. Conrad seemed to be reading his thoughts, and they were falling into a rhythm, their hips
thrusting and rising, their mouths a circle of hot wet suction.

Conrad’s narrow hands were curved around Jake’s ass, pulling him closer, deeper into

Conrad’s mouth.

Jake tried to do the same, but he wasn’t as practiced as Conrad was, and he nearly choked when

Conrad slid too deep. Still, Jake didn’t let that phase him—he just kept sucking, curving his tongue
around Conrad’s delicious heat. There was salt liquid on his tongue, and Conrad was moaning
urgently. It wouldn’t be long now.

Jake held on tight as Conrad’s hips stuttered, and tried hard to restrain himself. He didn’t know

how this had turned into a competition, but he wanted Conrad to come first. He wanted that
satisfaction of having brought Conrad to the edge and over, before following him.

Conrad’s mouth on his cock was wet and tight and merciless, pulling shuddering sensation from

him, but Jake wouldn’t give in, even as he arched up into that heat.

Jake sealed his mouth tightly around Conrad’s cock, pressing against the head with his tongue,

and then slid his hands around Conrad’s thighs and palmed his ass, pulling him closer.

They were pressed together so tight now, and Jake could barely breathe, but he loved it. The

heat and the utterly intoxicating smell of musk and sex were making his head spin.

Conrad moaned again, louder, and sudden wet heat spilled over Jake’s tongue and down his

throat.

Conrad was coming, moaning and shuddering against him, his hips stuttering in an irregular

rhythm. Before he knew it, that small triumph tipped Jake over the edge as well.

White-hot pleasure consumed him, and he closed his eyes and thrust into Conrad’s mouth,

feeling Conrad swallow around him as he came.

Even when Jake was utterly spent, Conrad wouldn’t let him go. His arms were close around

Jake’s thighs, and he kept Jake’s cock between his lips, delicately pulling the last drops from him.

Jake shivered, aftershocks roaring through him. He felt exhausted and exhilarated, and he was as

winded as if he’d been running a race.

Conrad’s cock lay lax against his thigh, and Jake licked it one last time, just to feel Conrad

shiver.

“Mmm,” Conrad said, softly. “Come up here, dearest.”
That word hit something deep inside Jake. Something he hadn’t known was there—a tender,

secret place, a place kept well-hidden and well-protected. It had been a very long time since anyone
called him by any such name.

He moved around, feeling every inch of the motion in his tired muscles, until he was finally

lying against Conrad again, but this time face to face.

This close up, Conrad’s eyes were a remarkable green, flecked with hazel. A forest green, a

wild green that spoke of his other self, his wolf self.

Jake stared into those green eyes until it felt as though he was falling into them.
Then he closed his eyes and met Conrad’s smiling mouth with his own.

***

It was a long, long time before either of them came up for air.
When Jake broke off the kiss at last, Conrad smiled, his eyes half-closed.
His lips were tingling. There was a delicious lassitude in all his limbs, and the couch was soft

and welcoming under him. Jake was lying half on top of him, hot and heavy, and his arm was under
Conrad’s head.

“I am not moving ever again,” Conrad announced, sighing. “Mmm. You smell good.”
“I’ve just spent a whole night up a tree,” Jake said dubiously. His voice was so deep that it

rumbled through Conrad’s chest like a freight train.

“You smell like it,” Conrad confirmed, sniffing the muscular curve of Jake’s upper arm. “Pine

resin, sweat, motorcycle oil, leather—mmm, and more than a little sex to sweeten the scent. If I could
bottle it, I’d make a killing.”

Jake hummed low in his throat. “You can smell all that, huh?”
Conrad opened his eyes a little wider, though it was an effort, and watched Jake’s face. “It’s—a

side effect.”

“Uh huh,” Jake said. “What else?”
Conrad tried to gather his wits. They seemed to be having a serious conversation all of a

sudden, and he wasn’t sure he was up for it.

As much as Conrad hoped desperately that Jake wasn’t having second thoughts, Jake’s face was

dark, stern, difficult to read. That was more or less his usual expression, but still it made Conrad
wonder: was Jake concerned about what it really meant, for Conrad to be part wolf? For him to have
a relationship with someone so different?

Well, he should be. If he had any sense, he wouldn’t even be considering it. That thought

brought a stab of pain with it that Conrad tried to ignore.

“It’s most noticeable on these three days,” Conrad began, trying to find words for something that

was mostly instinct and hard to name. “On these days, around the full moon, the wolf blood is
stronger, even in the daytime. We all feel it. Scents are overwhelming, sounds are very distinct, and
it’s hard to remember how to be human at times.”

“Like when I found you in the woods,” Jake commented. His stern expression had softened a

little, and he stroked a big, broad hand down the plane of Conrad’s shoulders.

Conrad sighed, leaning into that touch. “Yes, exactly. I was disoriented, just after the change,

and alone. Going through the change alone is…challenging.”

Jake nodded. “That won’t be a problem next time,” he said casually.
Conrad tried to meet Jake’s eye, not sure how to take that statement. “Why not?”
“You won’t be alone,” Jake said, and his jaw set in a heavy line. “I’ll be there. It was easier

when I was there, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Conrad admitted. The wave of relief that swept through him at Jake’s words was hard to

ignore. Conrad wanted nothing more than to have Jake hold him every time the wolf blood took over,
as well as every time it receded to leave him human again, naked and cold.

Jake would keep away the cold and the loneliness. Jake would be warm, solid, infinitely

welcome. But it wasn’t something he could let himself have, no matter how much he wanted to. It
wouldn’t be fair.

“It’s not—” Conrad began reluctantly, then paused, searching for words. He knew how stubborn

Jake could be.

“Not what?”
“Not safe. I can’t bring you into danger like that,” Conrad tried to explain. “The pack—they

haven’t accepted you. You were safe by the barest of margins tonight. If you had come down a little
earlier, they could have ripped you apart.” He shuddered, the words bringing back horrific images
and fears that he’d tried to forget.

If Jake had stood in the clearing when the pack arrived, hungry and tired from their long run,

still eager to find prey…if he’d offered any show of defiance, any sign that he could be considered a
threat…

“Hey,” Jake said, stroking down his back again, long and slow. “I can hear your heartbeat

picking up. Nothing happened, okay?”

Conrad sighed and nestled a little closer, wanting to feel as much of Jake’s body against him as

he possibly could. “I know. But that was mostly luck.”

“No such thing,” Jake said firmly. “It was planning. I stayed up there all night, just like I

promised, and it was fine. I didn’t come down until you were all lying on the ground, and you started
screaming.”

Conrad’s eyes went wide. “I was screaming?”
“You all were,” Jake said with a frown. “Okay, it wasn’t all that loud, and it wasn’t like there

was anyone else around to hear you. But you sounded like you were in pain, while you were
changing. I couldn’t stay up there and listen to that. I had to come down.”

“It does hurt,” Conrad admitted. “It’s hard to remember what it feels like, because the pain goes

away fairly fast. But in the moment itself, it feels like it lasts forever.”

Jake’s free arm went around Conrad’s shoulders, holding him tight. “I hate that it hurts you,” he

said softly.

Conrad swallowed. “Is that all you hate?”
“What do you mean?” Jake’s heavy brows drew tight, and his arm tensed under Conrad’s head.
“Is it—” Conrad would have preferred to bite back the words, but he had to get them out. He

had to ask, here in the shelter of Jake’s arms. Had to be sure. “Can you live with the rest of it?”

“I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jake told him, relaxing again as he

spoke. “I want to be here. With you.”

Conrad tilted his head to meet Jake’s mouth, softly. “I want that too,” he said, smiling with

relief and gratitude.

Jake was so wonderfully solid, like a rock or a tree. Nothing seemed to shake him. Not even a

boyfriend who turned into a wolf at inconvenient times.

“One more night, right?” Jake asked. “For the wolf, I mean?”
Conrad yawned. He tried to get his thoughts back on track, because it was important to answer

Jake’s questions, but he was feeling more than a little hazy. The need for sleep was overwhelming
him, and he wanted to fall asleep in Jake’s arms more than anything.

“Yes,” he said at last. “Tonight, I’ll run with the pack again. Then it’s over for another month.”
Jake nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
“That’s still not a good idea,” Conrad protested sleepily. “The pack isn’t—”
“Shhh,” Jake said, stroking his shoulder. His hands were so warm. “Go to sleep, angel.”
Conrad gave in. The tenderness in Jake’s deep voice was his undoing. He couldn’t resist it, and

he slid into sleep as smoothly as a stone falling into a pond.

The last thing he felt was Jake kissing him softly on the forehead.

***

When Conrad woke up, the loft was full of people. It was amazing that he hadn’t woken up

before this—he must have been sleeping very deeply indeed.

Brand and Erick and another werewolf he didn’t know were standing near the huge loft

windows, talking over each other so that their words all jumbled together, echoing under the tall
ceiling.

Conrad blinked once, twice, then scrubbed a hand down his face. It helped him wake up a little

more.

Where was Jake?
He tried to sit up, fell back against the soft cushions of the couch, then tried again. How nice it

would be to sleep a little longer, said a treacherous voice in his brain.

When Brand turned briefly in his direction, then looked away again, Conrad realized that he

was still naked.

Oh, well. It wasn’t a big deal, not among werewolves. The pack had all watched each other

undress before. Yet it still felt strange, because this time Brand and Erick and the third guy were
properly dressed, properly human, and they were pointedly ignoring his nudity. It might be intended
as politeness, but it made Conrad feel like some kind of washed-up derelict.

“Here,” said a deep voice that Conrad could feel resonating all the way through his bones.
Jake leaned over the back of the couch and handed him a bundle.
Conrad took it. It was a stack of clothes—his clothes, not the ones he’d stolen from Jake.

They’d been freshly laundered, too.

He blinked again, and Jake gave him a tiny smile.
“I called Marshall,” Jake told him. “He went to his aunt’s place, got these for you. Go take a

shower, sweetheart.”

A shower. In Jake’s surprisingly luxurious bathroom. And Jake had just called him sweetheart

in front of the pack. It made Conrad feel warm all over.

Then he took a second look at the men standing by the window, who were still not looking at

him. “Maybe I should—”

“No,” Jake said firmly. “They can wait.”
To Conrad’s impressed surprise, nobody protested against this statement. Not even Erick. They

just stood by the window giving Jake dark looks, but nobody said anything when Conrad levered
himself upright and made his slow, sleepy way to the bathroom.

The shower was glorious, and Conrad began to wake up properly as the hot water cascaded

over his head and down his spine.

What were Brand and Erick and that third werewolf doing here?
Had they come to make Jake swear some kind of oath of silence?
It was possible, though he didn’t see the point of it. The secret was already out, and Jake had

already given his word to keep it quiet. If they didn’t trust his word, what good would an oath do?

Conrad would trust Jake’s word to the end of the earth and beyond. It was who Jake was: he

exuded certainty, stability. He would no more break his word than he would sabotage someone’s
motorcycle.

Soaping himself lavishly, Conrad wished that the men were gone already.
He wanted Jake to shower with him. It seemed as though there was some kind of curse on that

wish: last time, it had been Garcia, storming in where he wasn’t wanted. And now it was the pack.

For a moment, it made him consider changing his plans. He wanted to live where Jake lived, but

he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live under the influence of Brand’s pack, so close, so omnipresent.

It was clear that the werewolves in Brand’s pack were a very tightly knit group—living

together, working together—and Conrad would always be an outsider. Especially because he didn’t
want to live with them or work with them. He didn’t want them to barge in on him all the time, either.
And they had no business disturbing Jake’s private life at all.

With a sigh of regret, Conrad finally turned off the taps and began to dry himself. He wasn’t

going to hide out in the shower until the pack went away, tempting as the thought might be.

His clothes smelled faintly of lavender, and they were beautifully laundered. Conrad made a

mental note: go back to the Floating Tiger bed & breakfast, pay his bill—and tip lavishly.

After he pulled on his cashmere sweater and pulled his hair back into a low queue, he felt more

like himself again. He certainly looked more like himself again, now that he wasn’t wearing Jake’s
clothes anymore. Though his mirror image had a certain sleek, satisfied look to it now, a “cat who got
the cream” look.

Conrad gave his mirror image a smirk.
Well, I did.

***

Jake watched Conrad walk out of the bathroom. This time Conrad was dressed, not just in a

towel, but Jake didn’t mind it. He didn’t particularly want Conrad to be nude in front of these men.
These other werewolves. From what he could tell, it would put Conrad at a disadvantage in the little
status game they were playing. And it wasn’t as though Jake was eager to share Conrad with the
world, either.

In any case, Conrad looked beautiful. He always did, but in these clothes that fit him so

perfectly, that made him look even taller, showing off his slim waist and long legs, he was
breathtaking.

Jake swallowed as Conrad came closer. He still couldn’t believe that this man wanted him.

That just a couple hours ago, they’d been lying head to tail, while Conrad’s mouth—oh, he’d better
stop thinking about that right now.

“Why are you here?” Conrad said to Brand, drawing himself up very straight.
That tone was one that Jake knew well by now. Imperious, cold. It was the tone of voice Conrad

used as armor.

Brand gave an easy shrug, casual, unconcerned. “I should have thought that was obvious,

really.”

Jake snorted. He was already tired of Brand jerking everyone around, and he’d only known the

guy for half a day.

Drawing back his shoulders, Jake stepped forward. He saw with a jolt of satisfaction how

Conrad’s gaze immediately went to him, ignoring everyone else.

“He’s here because he thinks he can talk me into staying away from you,” Jake told Conrad.

“And he brought these two other guys to make himself look bigger.”

Brand’s eyes widened. To the left of Conrad’s shoulder, Jake saw Erick—cold, arrogant, stone-

faced Erick—come very close to cracking a smile.

Conrad didn’t smile either, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I see.”
“Obviously, that’s not going to happen,” Jake went on, folding his arms.
“Obviously,” Conrad agreed, and now that was a smile. Tiny, fast, fleeting—but it was

heartfelt, and it was all for him.

“You can’t keep risking him like this,” Brand told Conrad. “There’s a lot of wolves, and there’s

only one of him. We won’t always have a hunter’s blind for him to hide out in. If you bring him to the
pack again on a full moon night, he’s going to get killed.”

Jake frowned. That was a different tactic, and it sounded like a low blow. It was clever of

Brand to play upon Conrad’s fears that way.

“You can stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Jake said, taking another step forward until

he was in Brand’s personal space. “And I saw what happens with you guys on these nights. It hurts to
change back and forth, and it’s easier for Conrad when I’m there. So I’ll be there. I’ll just wait until
it’s safe to approach.”

Brand looked down at him, eyebrows rising. “That is for the pack to decide.”
Jake was used to guys looking down at him, since he’d never been tall. It had only made him a

better fighter; he didn’t have the false confidence that height gave you.

Jake stared back up at Brand, his arms folded, his feet planted firmly against the floor. Time to

bring a little heat. “I don’t give a shit what the pack decides. You don’t take care of your people the
way you claim to. Where were you guys when Conrad was lost in the woods, going through the
change all alone?”

Brand’s stance was still easy and confident, but he was beginning to look a little flushed. “We

were looking for him—”

“Yeah?” Jake interrupted. “Well, I was looking for him too. And I found him.”
“And we’re all very curious about that,” murmured a sardonically amused voice. It was Erick,

who had stepped up to stand at Brand’s side. He swept away the long blond hair falling over his
shoulder with a graceful gesture. “How, exactly, did you find him? And for that matter, how did you
know where to look?”

Jake shrugged, trying to look as if he knew but just wasn’t saying, but he wasn’t sure he was

being convincing enough.

People kept asking him that, and he still didn’t have a clue how he had managed to find Conrad

in the middle of the woods. It had just—felt right.

“That isn’t relevant,” Brand told Erick, frowning.
“Oh, but I think it is,” Erick said. He bowed his head a little, not meeting Brand’s eyes. His

posture was deferential, and his voice purred softly, but he held everyone’s attention, including
Brand’s. Jake was beginning to get the feeling that Erick had more power in the pack than Brand did,
for all that he pretended to be lower in status.

“Think about it,” Erick urged, and his voice was very compelling. Jake shook his head, trying to

clear his ears. It felt as though Erick was pouring honey into them.

“Think about how we couldn’t find Conrad as fast as Jake did,” Erick purred. “Even though

Jake is human and doesn’t have the benefit of wolf senses, he got there first. He obviously doesn’t
know how he did it. Nor does Conrad. But we do.”

There was a pause. Then, finally, looking as if it hurt him to say it, to admit his ignorance,

Brand ground out, “We do?”

“Oh, yes,” Erick said, then paused, milking the moment for all it was worth. “There’s only one

answer. Soul calling to soul, mind to mind—even across the gap between human and wolf. They are
bound together.”

Everyone in the room gasped, except Jake. He just waited for someone to start making sense.
“Pairbound?” someone said. It was the third guy, the blank-faced muscle man who’d been

standing behind Brand looking as if he was embarrassed to be here. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Werewolves are a myth, too,” Erick said. “Think about it.”
Conrad’s head turned, and he met Jake’s eyes. His expression was full of hope and wonder. “I

think he’s right,” Conrad said softly. “I can feel it, whenever we’re apart. Do you feel it, too? Like—
like a cord, tying us together? Pulling us together?”

Jake took a long, deep breath. When Conrad put it like that, there was no question. “Yes. Yes, I

do.”

***

Pandemonium broke out. Everyone started talking at once, and with the echo from the ceiling

and the bare brick walls, the noise was deafening. Jake could see Conrad wince.

“Hey. Hey!” Jake called, slapping his thigh for emphasis. It took a few moments more, but

finally the noise lessened. “Okay, now everyone shut up,” Jake said, perhaps unnecessarily, but it felt
good to say it. “You. Erick. What does being pairbound mean, exactly?”

Jake didn’t trust Erick at all, even if he was Conrad’s brother. Despite the resemblance, they

were clearly cut from a very different cloth. But Jake had a feeling Erick wouldn’t be able to resist
being The Guy Who Knows. Especially in front of an audience.

Raking his hand through his hair again, Erick waited until everyone’s eyes were on him. Then he

said, “It is rare, even among werewolves. And I’ve never heard of it happening between a human and
a werewolf. As for what it means—well, you’ve already experienced the effects for yourself. You
become—aligned. You’re drawn to each other across great distances. Usually, that power increases

the longer the pair have known each other. And when one of you is distressed or in trouble, the other
will know.”

There was a pause, in which Conrad quietly came up to Jake and folded his long fingers around

Jake’s hand.

Noticing this, Erick gave them a wry smile. “If the legends are true, you might wind up being

able to hear each other’s thoughts. I’m sure that will be a thrill for you, little brother.”

Jake glared, but Conrad squeezed his hand, and he kept silent. No point in rising to Erick’s bait,

not right now.

“If that’s true, it changes things,” Brand said thoughtfully. He tilted his head, examining Jake and

Conrad. “I’m not entirely sure I believe it, though. Like Erick said, there’s never been a pairbound
human-wolf couple before. And I would think there’s a good reason for that. Humans don’t last.”

Jake’s brows rose to his hairline. “Excuse me?”
Brand gave a world-weary chuckle that made Jake’s hackles rise. “Oh, I forget that you’re new

to all this. Well, let me put it this way: werewolves are the evolutionary next step. We’re faster than
humans, stronger, hardier…and we live longer. There’s no reason for any werewolf to mate with a
human. It would only dilute the power of the werewolf blood.”

“Okay,” Jake said. “That sounds like a line of supremacist bullshit to me.” From the corner of

his eye, he could see Erick almost cracking up again. “I don’t see much of a difference between us,
except I don’t grow fur when the moon comes out. And in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re all guys
here. That’s pretty much an evolutionary dead end to begin with.”

“Regardless—” Brand began, but Jake wasn’t going to let him finish. He’d had enough.
He stepped forward, almost chest to chest with Brand, though Conrad still kept hold of his hand.

“No,” Jake said. “Pairbound or not, it doesn’t change anything. If Conrad wants to run with you guys
tonight, that’s his business. And if I want to hold on to him while he changes, that’s mine.” He eyed
them, then pointedly looked at the door. “You guys barged in here, you can find your own way out.”

Erick and the third guy began to move in that direction, but Brand stopped them. His color was

high, and his eyes were narrowed, staring at Jake. “No,” he said, and his voice was like a whipcrack.
“That’s not how we settle this. You gave me a challenge last night, Jake. Are you prepared to repeat
it?”

Jake blinked, trying to remember what Brand was talking about.
Conrad’s long fingers clenched down on his, tight and hard, and when Jake looked at him, he

saw that Conrad was growing pale.

“No,” Conrad ground out, still clasping Jake’s hand like a lifeline, “Brand, don’t. It’s not fair.

He doesn’t have wolf strength.”

Brand shrugged, all genial smiles again, except for his eyes. His eyes were cold and hard.

“According to Jake, there isn’t much of a difference between us.”

Before Jake could respond, Erick stepped in. Again, Jake noticed how all the other werewolves

looked at him, responding to him immediately—more than to Brand, even.

“A challenge would serve no purpose,” Erick said in his smoothest tones. “Jake, if you

challenge Brand to a fight and win, you would be called upon to lead the pack. Is that something you
want?”

Jake stared at him in horror. Nobody was contradicting Erick’s claim, so evidently it was true.

“Hell, no.”

The thought was ludicrous. Lead a wolf pack? What was he supposed to do, accompany them on

his motorcycle? Herd them like a sheepdog?

“I thought as much,” Erick purred. “As Brand mentioned last night, there are other ways for a

human to be accepted into a wolf pack.”

Jake was beginning to lose all feeling in his right hand, with Conrad clasping it so tight.

Whatever Erick meant was clearly just as upsetting to Conrad as the idea of a challenge. Jake shot
Conrad a look, trying to understand what was going on, but Conrad was showing that blank, cool
expression, masking himself.

“Well, what other ways?” Jake prompted at last, exasperated.
“Claiming,” Erick said, rolling out the word luxuriously. “Oh, I forget, you don’t know what that

means, either, do you?”

Jake was getting really, really tired of answering rhetorical questions. But for Conrad’s sake, he

just shook his head, rather than grab Erick and shake him until his teeth rattled.

“It’s a public demonstration of the tie between you and Conrad,” Erick said. “Which, in a

pairbound couple, should be a sight to see.” He paused, smiling faintly.

“We’re not doing this,” Conrad said at last, his tone icy, his blond brows raised. “We’re not a

spectacle for your entertainment, Erick.”

“No?” Erick said, raising his eyebrows in turn.
They had never looked so much alike, Jake thought, for all that Conrad was all icy disdain and

Erick all sardonic amusement.

“What is it, exactly, that we’re not doing?” Jake demanded.
Conrad turned to him, and now there was a faint blush in his pale, drawn face. “Erick refers to

the claiming ritual, where one werewolf male takes possession of another—or a human—in front of
the entire pack,” he said softly. “It is an old ritual, and most wolf packs have found other, less
intrusive ways to deal with mated pairs, but apparently—”

He must be nervous, Jake thought, watching him. Conrad was almost babbling, his words

falling over one another in a hurried way that was utterly unlike him.

Then the words themselves began to register.
“Takes possession?” Jake repeated. It couldn’t be what it sounded like. Could it?
Conrad’s blush intensified. “I mean—”
“Oh, let me do the honors, little brother,” Erick said, still looking far too amused. “I’ve done

them before, didn’t you know?” He turned to Jake with a supercilious smile. “Conrad would have to
claim you in front of the pack. That means you’d have to get down on all fours and submit to him
sexually. If he accepted your offer, he would mount you. He would…” Erick paused delicately, “mate
with you for a long time, to cover you with his scent, in full sight of the pack. Until the whole pack
accepts that you belong to him.”

Jake glared. He didn’t appreciate the obvious enjoyment, even relish in Erick’s voice, and the

barely hidden leer that went with it.

As for the claiming…he couldn’t go there. He’d never done that for anybody, ever.
And even if he might be willing to try it for Conrad—that damn well didn’t mean that he was

willing to try it in front of a whole gang of werewolves.

Jake didn’t want to share Conrad with anyone, and that included letting people watch them have

sex. Especially people like Erick, who would apparently enjoy it far too much.

The ritual aspect of it sounded bizarre, yet still nobody was contradicting what Erick was

saying. Even Conrad was quiet, looking away as if he’d rather not be here.

It hurt to see that, and Jake felt the coal of anger lodged in his stomach burning brighter. What

the hell was wrong with Erick, that he would put his own brother through the grinder like this?

Jake turned to Conrad, ignoring Erick’s stare. He didn’t care what Erick thought, or Brand, or

anyone else; but he cared about Conrad.

“Is this something you want?” he asked Conrad, as gently as he could.
Jake didn’t want to think too hard about his own needs, but he couldn’t ignore them, either. This

wasn’t what he wanted.

But if Conrad needed this…if this was what it took, for Conrad to be able to live here at all…
Conrad’s eyes met his reluctantly. For once, behind that distant blank mask, he looked unsure of

himself, vulnerable. His face barely held an expression, but his eyes looked wounded.

Jake swallowed and reached up to take Conrad gently by the shoulders. He could feel his

heartbeat roaring in his ears.

“Ignore them,” Jake said, his voice rough. “Just—tell me.”

***

“I don’t want to claim you,” Conrad said, very softly, looking down at Jake.
The words hung in the air for a moment, then came crashing down.
Jake had no idea why he felt so bereft. He didn’t want to take part in that bizarre ritual. But it

felt like Conrad was rejecting him. Discarding him. He wasn’t good enough.

Well, that was nothing Jake hadn’t thought before. Though it still hurt, far more than it should, to

hear it confirmed from Conrad’s mouth.

Jake took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders to bear the weight of that knowledge.
Conrad was looking at him very intently, as if gauging his reaction, and now he was shaking his

head. “No, don’t look like that,” Conrad said, and the look he gave Jake was very tender. “I didn’t
mean—if anything, if I wanted the pack to witness it—I would ask you to claim me.”

Behind them, ignored by both of them, Brand growled low in his throat. “That’s ridiculous,” he

said, all the rich empathy gone from his voice, which now sounded harsh and disgusted. “He’s a
human. You can’t really be thinking of submitting to a human—”

“Brand,” Erick said from behind them, and his voice was soft but deadly. “Shut up.”
In the frozen silence that followed, Jake stared at Conrad, his thoughts whirling.
So he would do that. He would do that for me?
“You said—if you wanted the pack to witness it,” Jake said at last, cautiously.
Conrad nodded, then gave him a small smile. “It may be very improper and un-wolflike of me,

but I don’t feel it’s any of the pack’s business.”

Jake smiled back. The weight fell off his shoulders, and he felt light as air. “I agree.”
“It’s not up to you to decide that,” Brand said heavily. “Not if you want to run with the pack,

Conrad.”

“Silver Springs is your territory,” Conrad said, so softly. “Isn’t that true?”
Brand blinked, clearly thrown by this unexpected change in direction. “Well, yes.”
“And not Sevenacres,” Conrad added.
There was a pause in which Jake eyed Conrad, hoping he had an ace up his sleeve. His eyes

were sparkling, which was a good sign.

“No. Not exactly,” Brand admitted.
“I plan to live in Sevenacres,”Conrad said. “That means I won’t be living on pack territory.”

Jake bit back a grin of triumph at that quiet statement. That’s right. He’ll be living here with

me. In my town. Choke on that, wolf breath.

“You’ll still be living on someone else’s territory,” Erick muttered ominously.
Brand threw out a hand in a sudden sweeping motion, and Erick fell instantly silent. “Is that

what you want?” asked Brand, and the rich mellow note was back in his voice. He sounded gravely
disapproving. “To hide here like an outcast, when you could join your brother’s pack and run with us,
whenever your blood calls you into the woods?”

“I will run where I please,” Conrad said, in that quiet deadly voice that he shared with his

brother, the voice that was like a thin blade of steel between the ribs.

Jake mentally cheered him on, but he confined his outward show of support to a quick squeeze

of Conrad’s hand.

“Solitary wolves don’t last long,” Brand said, folding his arms. “You know that as well as I do,

Conrad. You’ll tear your heart out, pretending you want to run alone, all for the sake of this human.
You’ll come crawling back to us, begging to run with us again.”

“Why don’t you wait for that to happen?” Conrad suggested mildly. “Preferably somewhere

else. I’m feeling a little crowded, and as you said, this isn’t technically your territory…”

In the delicate pause Conrad left at the end of that sentence, Jake could practically see the claws

coming out. That was definitely a challenge. He bit back an appreciative grin.

Brand’s eyes narrowed, but Erick laid a hand on his arm. “Perhaps we should leave my brother

to enjoy his fling,” Erick said into Brand’s ear. “After all, these little affairs don’t usually last long.”

Jake glared in Erick’s direction. At the same time he was aware that Erick was drawing Brand

away, out of Conrad’s reach. He was defusing the situation, and it had to be on purpose. Erick didn’t
do anything by accident. Maybe, in his own way, he was looking out for his little brother after all.

It took several more tense moments, but finally, Brand and Erick and their silent accomplice left

the room, slamming the door of the loft shut behind them. A few flakes of plaster came down from the
ceiling.

“Good,” Conrad said softly. He turned to Jake. “I’m sorry for their intrusion.”
His formality made Jake feel a little uneasy, even though he could tell that it came to Conrad as

naturally as breathing. “Hey, last time it was Garcia,” Jake pointed out. “I should get some new locks
for that door.”

Conrad smiled, and it lightened his whole face, driving away the shadows of doubt and anger.
Jake caught his breath. He would never, ever get used to those smiles.
“There’s no one else living in this building, is there?” Conrad asked.
Jake shook his head. “Not even next door. It’s all warehouses and factories.” He paused,

scratching at the stubble on his chin with his free hand. “Why?”

Conrad moved closer, still smiling provocatively. “Because a little earlier, you said you liked

to hear me make…certain noises. And right now, I intend to get loud.”

***

Jake held on to Conrad’s hand like a lifeline as Conrad bent closer to kiss him.
Somehow, miraculously, Conrad was still here, and Conrad wanted him. Despite all the

interference from the wolf pack. Despite all the unanswered questions that still lay between them: if

Conrad wanted to live in Sevenacres, where would he live? What did being pairbound really mean?
How would they deal with the pack on the wolf nights to come?

Jake shoved all those questions away, into some hidden pocket of his mind, and concentrated on

the here and now.

Conrad wanted him.
Jake wouldn’t squander that gift.
He closed his eyes and focused on the heat of Conrad’s mouth, and the way Conrad’s hips were

rocking against his own in tight little circles. They were still standing upright, but he had a feeling it
wouldn’t be much longer.

Conrad was urgent, demanding, eager. He didn’t want slow, soft kisses, that much was clear: he

wanted heat and fire.

Jake did his best to bring both. He wrapped his arms around Conrad’s shoulders, drawing him

down, and kissed him without restraint, trying to show without words what Conrad meant to him.

When Conrad broke away at last, his cheeks were flushed. “I can’t get enough of you,” he said

softly, looking at Jake as if he was something entirely new.

“Well then, why’d you stop?” Jake grumbled, reaching out to him again.
His need for Conrad was becoming uncomfortable, with the seam of his jeans pressing too

close, too tight, and yet he didn’t want to stop kissing him.

Conrad kissed his neck, then sucked at the skin there. “I want more than kisses,” Conrad said

into Jake’s ear, his hot breath making Jake shiver. “What I said to Brand—I want that. Just not in front
of them.”

Jake tried to sort out what Conrad was saying, despite the distraction of Conrad’s hands

slipping under his shirt and digging deeper. When he got the meaning of those husky words, a jolt of
heat went right through him.

“Yes,” Conrad said, smiling right into his eyes, that elegant mouth curving irresistibly. “Let the

wolf pack wonder. You will be the only one to see me on my knees. Or on my back.”

“Damn,” Jake whispered, and then he had to wrap himself back around Conrad and kiss him

again, delving into that supple mouth, that welcoming heat.

Clinging together, they slowly moved toward the big futon bed under the tall windows of the

loft, kissing all the while, stumbling a little now and then. When they finally broke apart, they were
both gasping for air.

Jake didn’t stop moving, though. He began to undress Conrad, taking all those beautiful,

seamlessly fitting clothes away from him.

It was like unwrapping a present. He was beautiful in those clothes, sure, but he was even more

beautiful out of them. The long, lean lines of his body were elegant, spare, like a race car designed
for speed.

Don’t compare him to a car, Jake told himself. But he couldn’t help himself. His mind naturally

went there: he loved smooth curves and stark planes and hidden power, and Conrad had all of those.

Finally Conrad was naked, still standing, with his cock jutting forward provocatively in a way

that made Jake’s mouth water.

“Let me return the favor,” Conrad said softly, smiling down at him.
Jake let him. It felt a little awkward to be standing here like this while Conrad’s hands

wandered all over him, taking off his shirt with careful precision, helping him slip out of his boots.
But he could tell that Conrad was enjoying himself.

“You must tell me all about your tattoos sometime,” Conrad said, trailing the serpent that curved

up Jake’s arm with his fingers. It tickled, and Jake shivered a little, wanting more. “I find them—very
intriguing.”

“Sometime. But not now?” Jake said, frowning, pretending to be disappointed.
Conrad wasn’t fooled, and his smile grew very fond. “Not now.”
With a supple, graceful motion, he stepped onto the futon mattress barefoot and went down on

his knees, facing Jake. “Let me see you,” he said, and now the words sounded pleading.

Jake couldn’t say no to that request. He stepped out of his jeans, then kicked his underwear and

socks away. No striptease, not this time. He wanted to touch Conrad too much.

Conrad watched him with shining eyes, and then bent forward and took Jake’s swelling cock

into the slick heat of his mouth.

Jake’s knees nearly buckled. He flailed, trying to find something to hold on to, and finally let his

hands find purchase in Conrad’s hair.

He held on as gently as he could, but Conrad was sucking him with no tenderness at all. It was

brutal, almost angry—hungry, needy, slick and hot, and Conrad’s long hands gripped Jake’s hips with
bruising power.

“God damn it,” Jake swore as his hips began to stutter a rhythm of pulsing lust. “Conrad—I

can’t—I thought—”

He moaned desperately as Conrad sucked him deeper.
How the hell was he supposed to hold out against this? It was like being sucked in by a tsunami.
Conrad’s hands slipped behind him, kneading his ass, urging him into longer, deeper thrusts.
Jake felt as though he’d been on the verge of coming for hours and hours, and now—finally—
He moaned, sliding into that wet heat. Conrad’s tongue twisted fiendishly, curling around him,

pulling him deeper. It was impossible to resist.

Conrad’s face was turned up, his eyes closed, his mouth working hungrily. He looked as if he

would be content to keep going for hours. But Jake couldn’t last that long. It was so, so good.

Jake stared down at him, pulse after pulse of heat racing up his spine. “Conrad—” he

whispered, riding the heat of his mouth and tongue. “I can’t stop—”

Conrad moaned, low in his throat, the sound vibrating around Jake’s cock, and that was too

much.

That drove Jake over the edge. He cursed and clenched his hands in Conrad’s silken hair,

spilling himself into the pressure of that lovely mouth, those grasping hands.

He couldn’t stop.
It was too late to stop.
It was too late to do anything but fall into ecstasy.
Long, long moments of pure bliss followed, his whole body shaking with relief and satisfaction.
“Damn,” Jake said huskily. “You are so—” He shivered all over when Conrad sucked the last

drops from him, then let him go.

“Mmm,” Conrad said, licking his lips. He smiled up at Jake. “I can’t tell you how much I

needed that.”

“How much you needed—” Jake began, then shook his head, dazzled by Conrad’s smile.
He knelt down on the futon, his knees on either side of Conrad’s slim waist, and tried to find

words. “I thought you wanted me to…” He hesitated, not sure what words to use.

“To fuck me,” Conrad said, smiling angelically, the word falling easily from his lips. He

cocked an eyebrow at Jake. “I do. Oh, I do. I just wanted to—take the edge off, as it were.”

“Take the edge off,” Jake repeated hoarsely, in disbelief. His whole body was still shaking a

little with the aftershocks of what Conrad had just done to him. “You are going to be the death of me.”

Conrad winced a little, and Jake wished he hadn’t said that. Or found some other way to phrase

it.

“No,” Conrad said softly. “I will not let any harm come to you, Jake, I promise.”
“I know,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that. Just that— you don’t know what you

do to me.”

Jake bent closer, so that they were pressed together from hip to chest, and kissed Conrad. He

could feel Conrad’s cock pulsing against his thigh, and deliberately shifted, trying to create a little
more pressure.

“Oh,” Conrad said softly. “I don’t think you know what you do to me, either. Dearest—” He

wrapped his arms around Jake’s shoulders, smiling. “Don’t make me come,” he said in Jake’s ear.
“Not yet. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jake’s breathing stuttered. He didn’t know how Conrad could just come out and say things like

that. But good Lord, those words were sending bolts of heat right through him. Through all of him,
except one part that was still exhausted.

“I’m—not ready yet,” he pointed out, reluctantly.
Conrad gave him a small smile that was almost a smirk. “I know. That’s why I wanted to take

the edge off. The second time around will be even better.”

Jake shivered deliciously at the rock-steady confidence in Conrad’s voice. It was true, he had

never come back for a second round as quickly as with Conrad. Was that a side effect of this
pairbound thing? Or was it just a side effect of…Conrad?

“I don’t think I entirely approve of the way Brand runs his pack,” Conrad said thoughtfully,

sounding as abstracted as if they were having this conversation fully dressed and over dinner, instead
of pressed together naked on Jake’s futon. “It seems very heavy-handed. This insistence on public
claiming—I don’t see why. Though—” he paused, and let his hands wander down Jake’s spine.

“Though what?” Jake prompted, kissing his neck. He was half on top of Conrad, half sitting on

the futon, and it was a little awkward, but it did mean lots of skin to skin contact, and that was all
Jake wanted right now.

Conrad, apparently, wanted to talk. “Though there is some part of me that does comprehend the

attraction,” he was saying. “The—instinct, I suppose it must be—to parade one’s mate in front of all
the pack. To let them see what they can never have.”

Jake kissed his ear, then nuzzled his neck. “You want to parade me?” he asked, half-joking.
“I want everything,” Conrad confessed, in his soft, cultured voice. “I want you all to myself, and

at the same time I want the world to see you and envy me. Your thighs alone would drive strong men
to drink.”

Jake lifted his head and gave Conrad a baffled look. “My thighs?” He looked down at himself,

then back at Conrad.

“You have no idea, do you,” Conrad said, and the look he gave Jake in return was fond and

warm. “You’re strong as an oak, wild and powerful as a forest god. Your thighs make my mouth
water. Your shoulders haunt my dreams.” He sighed, and then he wrapped his hands around the swell
of Jake’s bicep. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not just this that attracts me,” he added, squeezing gently.
“But all the same, this is very attractive indeed.”

Jake felt his ears start to burn. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him.
He knew he was broad-shouldered for his height, sure. He knew he was strong; spend your days

lifting heavy stuff and hammering on metal, anyone would grow some muscle. And he liked to lift

weights now and then, too, enjoying the way it felt when he pushed himself.

“Built like a tow truck,” was the way Garcia usually put it.
But what Conrad was saying…it sounded ridiculously high-flown, like poetry, and yet Conrad

meant it.

Jake could tell. There was no mockery in Conrad’s eyes, just heat.
Conrad liked him.
Conrad thought he was…a forest god?
Jake shook his head, setting his wild curls flying around his ears. He couldn’t think about that, it

was too crazy. And it mattered more that Conrad wanted this, wanted him.

He bent down and licked a long curving path from Conrad’s neck to his left nipple. It stood up

under his tongue, small and pink and delicious.

Conrad let out a long shuddering moan. He fell back on the bed, his shoulders hitting the

mattress with a soft sound. “More,” he begged. His arms were spread wide, his expression eager.

Jake didn’t have to be asked twice. He bent further forward, letting his tongue explore the path

to Conrad’s other nipple while Conrad shivered and moaned under him.

Conrad was so responsive, so vocal. There was no awkwardness here, no shame, the way there

had been in Jake’s few other encounters with willing men. This was as far from that as a banquet was
to fast food.

Jake took his time. He loved the sighing little moans Conrad gave as Jake explored the

sensitivity of his nipples, his flat stomach.

Tremors went through Conrad, and his moans grew louder when Jake trailed a finger along his

inner thigh. Such soft skin, covered with the softest, tiniest little blond hairs.

“Oh, that tickles,” Conrad said, biting his lip. But at the same time he let his thighs fall a little

further apart, deliberately. “I don’t care, do it again,” he urged breathlessly.

Jake smiled, and did just that.
While he teased Conrad, he stared at Conrad’s cock, curving upward onto his stomach. His

mouth watered, but he remembered what Conrad had said. ‘I want to come with you inside me.’

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a taste…
He bent forward and took the head of Conrad’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard just for a few

breaths, then letting go again.

“Ah!” Conrad nearly jackknifed upright, then fell down again on the soft mattress, gasping.

There was color in his pale face now, a soft rose spreading all the way down to his neck.

Jake grinned. “Like that?”
“Fiend,” Conrad said, but his eyes were sparkling. “Demon.”
Jake would take that for a yes.
He wanted to make Conrad call him more names. Louder names. But he didn’t want to go fast;

not now that Conrad had taken the edge off.

Jake was already beginning to stir again, a little jolt going through his cock every time Conrad

moaned, but it would take a little longer to get himself ready.

So he spent that time indulging himself, exploring Conrad’s long, lithe body from the soft folds

of skin under his knees to the sweet strong lines of his breastbone.

Conrad shivered and moaned the whole time, rolling his head back and forth. He looked so

unlike the tall, cool, imperturbable image he presented to the world. He wasn’t hiding anything, not
from Jake.

Every time Jake touched Conrad’s thighs, those moans grew a little louder, and Conrad’s thighs

spread further apart, as if by accident. Finally, Jake couldn’t stand it anymore. He scrabbled under the
pillows, then by the side of the bed, until he found the bottle of massage oil.

He hadn’t used it that much when he was on his own; he preferred the rougher touch of his own

hand, and the oil was too slick and made it hard to get a grip on himself.

But now, he was glad he had it lying around. He uncapped the bottle and let the oil pool in his

hand, warming it.

Conrad was watching him with half-lidded eyes, still with that rose flush on his cheeks and

neck. He licked his lips, watching Jake spread the oil over his own hands.

Jake eyed him, wondering what Conrad was thinking.
Conrad met his gaze, then looked away, his eyelashes sweeping down provocatively. “Tell

me,” Conrad murmured. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

There was a husky undertone to Conrad’s soft voice that was completely new, and the rosy flush

was spreading all the way down to his breast.

“You want that?” Jake said, stroking his thigh with one oily hand. “You want me to call the

shots?”

“It’s—yes,” Conrad said. “Please.” He was biting at his lower lip again, and the sight made

Jake hungry.

He bent over, resting his hands on Conrad’s shoulders, and claimed his mouth.
It was different kissing him like this, when Conrad was lying down and Jake was almost on top

of him. His tongue stabbed down into Conrad’s sweet, eager mouth, and Conrad moaned low in his
throat, urging him on. He could feel Conrad’s cock rubbing against his thigh, already spilling a little
fluid.

When Jake broke away at last, he was rock-hard again himself, and Conrad looked at him with

such hunger that Jake felt a little sympathetic stab in his own gut.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he said, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended, but

Conrad only gave a faint, pleased sigh.

Then Conrad was tilting his folded legs up and out of the way, hands gripping around the backs

of his knees. He was limber, much more limber than Jake, and it didn’t seem to cause him any trouble
at all to double himself up like that.

For a moment Jake just stared, watching Conrad draw his legs up higher. It was an unbelievable

sight. Then he recollected himself and stroked his hands down Conrad’s thighs, already expecting the
resulting shiver and moan.

He stroked down this time, down to the curve of Conrad’s ass, down to the rosy little opening

that didn’t seem nearly big enough. Then he slowly pushed in with one oily finger, feeling that sweet
flesh gripping tight.

Conrad gasped and flushed hotly, tensing up, then relaxing again. “Your hands are so big,” he

murmured. “For a moment it felt like—”

“Yeah?” Jake said, biting back a grin. “You think my hands are big? Just wait.”
Conrad shot him a look that was as hot as it was mischievous. “I’m waiting,” he said pointedly,

rolling his hips a little against the mattress.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it,” Jake said, pushing deeper.
Two fingers, now. He could feel the resistance. It had clearly been a long time since Conrad

had last done this, and for all his eagerness, Conrad’s expression was growing tense, his blond brows
furrowing.

Jake reached out blindly behind him and found a pillow, pushed it under Conrad, who lifted his

hips obligingly. There, now he had better access, and it would be a little easier for both of them.

Tight, still so tight. He worked Conrad open with his fingers, slow but not too slow, watching

him gasp and shiver and roll his head from side to side on the mattress. It was a sight Jake couldn’t
get enough of.

He twisted and crooked his fingers, searching, finding the spot to press against.
Conrad’s breath began to stutter, a gasping sound that sent a jolt of arousal straight to Jake’s

cock.

“You like that?” Jake said, a low growl.
“I—yes,” Conrad said, flushed, his eyes shining. “Oh god, that feels good, just—oh, don’t stop

—”

“I could do this all night,” Jake told him, with a small evil grin. “Just to watch you like this.”
He didn’t think he could make good on that promise—or was it a threat? Not with Conrad

spread out before him like this, waiting for him. Ready for him—more or less.

Jake wasn’t sure Conrad was entirely ready. He was still so tight, gripping Jake’s fingers hotly.

It wasn’t going to be easy.

Jake pressed and crooked his fingers against that sweet spot, until Conrad’s moans became

louder and more desperate.

“Please,” Conrad pleaded, “I want you. Please—”
To hear Conrad beg was the sweetest music. Jake couldn’t resist it.
Taking care not to rush it, he slipped his fingers out, making Conrad moan again as the pressure

left him.

Then Jake lined up his cock, oiled and ready. He could barely stand the touch of his own oily

fingers; he wanted Conrad just as desperately as Conrad wanted him.

“Breathe,” he told Conrad, who was looking down at him.
“You’re huge,” Conrad said, wonderingly, as if this could possibly be a surprise at this point.

His eyes were wide, but they looked eager, not scared.

“Tell me you’re ready,” Jake said, and it wasn’t so much an order as it was a plea. “I want you

so much, but I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Oh, give me strength,” Conrad said, and even in his soft cultured voice, it was almost a growl.

“I’m ready, I swear, just do it—”

Jake took a deep breath and pushed in.
God. That felt…amazing. But so tight, almost to the point of pain. Conrad was gripping him,

constricting around him.

Jake watched him worriedly, even though the heat and pressure were making his head spin with

the urge to thrust, to take himself deeper, to sink all the way into Conrad’s body. Only the head of his
cock was inside, and he stopped there, breathing harshly.

Conrad’s expression was tense, his fine blond eyebrows scrunching into a frown.
“Okay?” Jake asked. “Too much?”
“Almost,” Conrad said in a thready whisper. “But I’ve been dreaming about this, I’m not going

to give up—not now—oh—” He tightened up around Jake in a way that made him see stars, then
relaxed again.

Jake spilled more oil over himself, over Conrad, slicking them both up until they were slippery

as fish. He was shaking with the need to move, but he managed to hold himself back. Instead he
stroked Conrad’s thighs, easing the tense muscles, warming him up with his big hands.

Conrad melted into his touch, sighing with pleasure, and Jake could feel him relax just a little.

Just enough to make it possible for Jake to sink deeper, a tiny bit at a time, as slowly as he

could. He watched himself disappear into Conrad’s body, and then he had to look away to maintain
any kind of control. Watching his hard cock slowly sinking into Conrad’s ass, combined with the tight
heat all around him, was sensory overload.

Shaking with the effort of going slow, Jake angled his hips, trying to find just the right—ahh

—there.

Conrad cried out, so loudly that Jake almost startled himself into pulling out.
Oh yeah, he’d hit the sweet spot all right.
“You like that?” Jake asked for the second time, and now he was going slower than he had to,

just to see the amazing effect it had on Conrad when he pushed against that spot, right there—

Conrad cried out again, almost a wail, and nodded frantically, all his long words stolen away

from him.

Jake spared a second to be thankful that there was nothing but warehouses on either side of his

loft. Conrad hadn’t been kidding about getting loud.

Slowly, Jake ground into him, so slowly, still going deeper, taking care to keep the angle just

right, just there.

Conrad was moaning all the time now, and his hands were tightly clenched around his own

knees, white-knuckled, holding himself open for Jake with all his will.

“Easy,” Jake said, leaning into him, then took hold of Conrad’s legs and lifted them over his

shoulders.

Conrad moved with him, smooth, easy, as if they’d been doing this for years. As if they’d been

reading each other’s minds.

Maybe there was something to this pairbound thing.
But Jake couldn’t stop to think about that, not now, not with Conrad’s legs over his shoulders,

not with Conrad’s whole body doubled up under him, ready for him, Conrad’s eyes so wide and his
moans and cries loud enough to wake the dead—

Jake planted his hands against the mattress and pushed in, a long slow smooth thrust that sent

white sparks of pleasure up his spine.

Conrad was wide open to him now, Conrad could take it. He was so hot under Jake’s hands, so

pliant.

“Oh please,” Conrad said between moans, “Please, do it, keep going, faster, harder—”
Conrad was begging for it now, and that was all that mattered.
When Jake lost control of himself, it happened all at once. It was like a building crashing down,

all the walls coming down at once, the windows blowing out, the rain sweeping in—

He was going in hot, going in hard, too fast, too hard, but he couldn’t stop now. Every thrust he

angled just right, so Conrad would make those sounds again, those wailing noises that made Jake
crazy.

Faster. Harder. He could do that.
He ramped up his pace, slamming Conrad into the mattress, leaning into him at the end of every

thrust just to feel Conrad’s chest heaving for breath under him, then easing off just enough for the next
thrust to hit home.

It was brutal, it was hunger and need and drive, but Conrad wanted it as much as he did, Conrad

was grinding into him, gripping his shoulders with shaking hands to pull him in deeper.

Jake rolled his hips and thrust again, finding new angles, new ways to make Conrad wail.
He only wished he could bend down enough to take Conrad’s leaking cock into his mouth at the

same time. But Conrad was too far under him, open and ready, and he wasn’t even trying to touch
himself. The look on his face was unguarded, delirious with pleasure; his long hair was fanned out
over the mattress, and it looked as wild as the rest of him.

“Angel,” Jake breathed, watching him with a fierce hunger. He wanted every expression on

Conrad’s face, every long moan that escaped his lips. He wanted Conrad with all his body and soul.

Conrad was looking right at him, fierce green eyes meeting his with a devouring intensity. Jake

couldn’t look away.

He wasn’t sure anymore where his own body ended and Conrad’s began. He wasn’t sure which

of them was moaning so loudly, which of them was breathing so harshly.

One thing he was sure of: he wasn’t going to last very much longer, not at this pace, not with the

shuddering waves of pleasure crashing over him.

“Conrad—” he said hoarsely, but he couldn’t find words, or breath, to say anything else.
Instead he just gripped Conrad’s hips, pulling him up against his cock, pulling him into another

massive thrust.

Conrad’s nails were digging into his shoulders, leaving thin hot lines that burned across his

skin. It felt good.

Everything felt good.
Everything was driving Jake higher, faster, deeper.
Broken, raw noises fell from Conrad’s lips with every thrust. Moans, hoarse stuttering cries,

little whimpering sounds that made Jake’s breath catch with the desperate need in them.

“Touch yourself,” Jake managed to say at last, and his voice sounded hoarse and demanding,

unkind, but he saw Conrad’s eyes light up as soon as he said it. “Do it, I can’t, I’m almost—go on,
come for me—” He hardly knew what he was saying. His whole mind was filling with pleasure,
whiting out the words and the thoughts.

Conrad’s right hand scrabbled down between their bodies and wrapped around his cock,

pulling hard and fast, in rhythm with Jake’s deep and powerful thrusts.

They were so close now, both of them, and Jake was determined to make it last for Conrad, to

make him come first. But it was hard, because Conrad was clenching and pulsing around him, and
seeing him stroking himself with such fierce speed made Jake’s mouth water with the need to taste
him.

“Do it,” Jake urged. He pushed in hard, a stroke that buried him balls-deep. He shook his hair

back from his eyes, then looked down at Conrad again.

When their eyes met, it was like an electric shock.
Conrad cried out and spilled hot over his own hand, shuddering. His body convulsed, and Jake

held on, buried deep inside him. He kept himself from moving, so Conrad could feel the length and
girth of Jake’s cock pressing inside him as he came.

Finally, Conrad’s breathing eased down into a slower, gentler rhythm, but he was still shivering

as if his body was breaking itself apart with pleasure, and moaning whenever he had breath to do it.

“That’s it,” Jake said hoarsely. “Oh, you feel so good—”
Jake’s knees were wide, braced against and under Conrad, and sweat was beading on his

shoulders and his back. He held himself still, shaking with the effort.

It was worth it, to see Conrad under him like this, to see his cock disappearing into Conrad’s

body, and to see Conrad so wrecked by pleasure. A part of him wanted nothing more than to stay like
this forever, connected, entwined. They were so close like this, almost close enough.

But then Jake had to move.

The urge started somewhere low in his spine, bypassing his brain entirely, and before he knew

it he was thrusting again, slow ragged thrusts that made him clench his teeth.

He was close, so close, but the pause had given him a little time to ease off from the edge. Now

it was like he was climbing the mountain again, reaching up to that peak of pleasure that Conrad’s
satisfied expression promised him.

It was easier now; Conrad was relaxed, his body limp and sated. He was moving easily under

Jake, meeting him with every thrust.

The deep, easy slide made Jake’s eyes roll back in his head while his lower body powered

forward.

So good.
So hot and clinging and tight.
Conrad’s nails were digging into his shoulders again, and it was—almost—he was nearly—
With a low, guttural cry, Jake was lost.
He’d never come like this, so brutally, so powerfully.
It was like falling down a ravine, down and down, darkness fountaining up behind his eyelids,

but Conrad’s hands were there, holding him. Anchoring him.

It helped, because he was close to falling forward, on top of Conrad.
With a final effort, Jake managed to catch himself before he fell over. Breathing hard, he slid

out of Conrad as slowly as he could and then collapsed by his side.

For a long moment he just lay there, his chest heaving, dizzy with the aftershocks of pleasure

that still shuddered through him.

Finally he managed to move just enough to put his arm around Conrad, who was sprawled on

his back by his side, looking as boneless as a doll.

“I think I’m dead,” Jake gasped, but even as he spoke he could feel his thundering heartbeat

finally slow down.

Conrad gave a chuckle that rasped in his throat. “Well, there are worse afterlives.”
Jake kissed the sharp angle of his shoulder. “There sure are.”
Conrad rolled to face him, and his green eyes met Jake’s with a warm, bright look that Jake

could hardly bear. It couldn’t all be for him, that warmth, that depth of affection. He didn’t deserve it.
But he couldn’t turn it away, either.

“This is what I wanted,” Conrad said softly. “The claiming. I just didn’t—want them to see.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts, while Jake concentrated on breathing. That was the best he could
do at the moment. “I feel—different.”

“Yeah?” Jake eyed him, not sure if he should be alarmed or not. “You’re okay, right? I didn’t

hurt you or anything?”

“No,” Conrad assured him, and now he was smiling. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that the

—the link between us—I can feel it all the time now. Even when you’re right next to me.”

“Huh,” Jake said, half asleep. Then, spurred by the question in Conrad’s eyes, he made a mighty

effort to rouse himself from the warm haze of pleasure and exhaustion that was pulling him under.

He tried to locate that strange feeling, that glimmering strand that he could feel stretching

between them sometimes, pulling tight when Conrad was away from him, or in danger.

It was there. As soon as he tried to find it, it was there, alive and vibrant.
Conrad was right. It didn’t feel alien any longer; it was part of him. The connection was much

stronger than before, or maybe he just knew how to recognize it now.

“Me too,” Jake confirmed.

Conrad bent forward, long hair hanging into his eyes, and kissed him softly. “I’m glad,” he said.

“The pack won’t be able to ignore it, either.”

Jake made a low noise in his throat. “Fuck the pack,” he suggested. They were the last thing he

wanted to talk about.

Conrad laughed, soft and low. “Oh, is that what you want?” he said, his lovely voice curling

around Jake like smoke. “You should have said something earlier, I’m sure Brand and the others
would be delighted—”

Jake glared at him. “I wouldn’t be. I can’t stand that guy, he’s like a car salesman. All oil and

grease and lies.”

“I know,” Conrad said, pushing himself a little closer to Jake. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to

share you.”

Jake wrapped his arms around him. “Good.”
He couldn’t have put into words how contented he felt right now, with Conrad in his arms,

warm and tender and safe.

“I feel very sticky,” Conrad complained, then yawned like a cat.
“Mm-hmm,” said Jake, kissing his fine blond eyebrows. “Go to sleep, angel.”
Conrad’s eyes slid shut, and he nestled against Jake’s shoulder with a small sigh of pleasure.

His head settled into the curve of Jake’s shoulder as if it belonged there. Silky hair fanned out over
Jake’s shoulder and chest, and Jake let his fingers run through the strands, softly stroking Conrad’s
head.

Conrad’s breathing deepened, slowed. He was asleep, just like that.
Jake, to his own surprise, was still awake. His body was calling for sleep, but another part of

him just wouldn’t let go. He was determined to watch over Conrad’s sleep as long as he could hold
out against his own exhaustion.

Nobody will hurt you, Jake promised Conrad silently.
Not Brand, not the pack, not your brother.
Jake took a long breath, taking in the scent of Conrad’s hair.
And not me.
Above all, not me.
Whatever it takes, whatever I have to do, I’m going to make you happy.

***

Thanks for reading! I’m currently working on a new book in the Mountain Wolves series.
If you’d like to know when it’s available, please sign up for my new release e-mail list at

eepurl.com/xNp1X

These books in the Mountain Wolves series are out on Amazon now:

Wolf Scent

(Mountain Wolves Book 1)

When a reckless young hiker named Leo gets his leg caught in an old bear trap, Kirk rescues

him, tracking him down by scent alone.

While Kirk takes care of his injuries, Leo’s bright, sunny presence slowly wears down all

Kirk’s defences.

But as the full moon rises, Kirk struggles between the urge to protect Leo and the demands of the

wolf, who wants only one thing: to claim his mate…

Wolf Howl

(Mountain Wolves Book 2)

In one week, Kirk Anderson’s lonely life in the mountains turns upside down: he falls in love

with a bright young painter named Leo, and he discovers that he’s not the only werewolf in the world.

Unfortunately, the other werewolves want to take over Kirk’s territory. Worse than that: they

want to take Leo, too.

Desperate to keep his mate, Kirk is forced to claim him…in front of the entire pack!

Wolf Pack

(Mountain Wolves Book 3)

Leo Travers, a young painter, is desperately in love with tall, dark, taciturn Kirk Anderson. He

doesn't even care if Kirk turns into a wolf every full moon. All Leo cares about is their future
together.

Does Kirk want him only for now, or forever? Kirk isn't saying, and Leo is afraid to ask and get

his heart broken.

Then there's the wolf pack living right next door. One of them is stalking Leo, and this werewolf

won't take no for an answer.

Wolf Moon

(Mountain Wolves Book 4)

Working as a motorcycle mechanic, Jake meets his share of rich guys. Arrogant jerks, all of

them, who only feed Jake's bad temper.

But then he meets Conrad. Soft-spoken, elegant, wealthy Conrad, who asks Jake to remodel his

vintage chopper...and asks him out to dinner, too.

Guys like Conrad don't fall for guys like Jake. Everyone knows that. Everyone except Conrad,

apparently.

But then, just when things are going suspiciously well, Jake finds out that Conrad is a werewolf.

In the mood for some smoking hot m/m reads? Check out these ebooks by Isabel Dare:

Taken by the Minotaur Trilogy

When young prince Theseus enters the Labyrinth, he expects to fight a deadly man-beast

monster: half man, half bull. But he does not expect to find the Minotaur aroused and ready for him.
And he would never have imagined that the Minotaur would become his mate…

Taken by the Centaurs Trilogy

Young Orpheus finds himself singing to a herd of eager male Centaurs. He’s enjoying his new

audience, but when he accidentally gives them wine, he finds out just how dangerous and depraved
Centaurs really are.

Viking Plunder

These are the stories of two innocent young men, taken as plunder by big, brawny Vikings!
When Viking leader Thorvald puts a slave collar around Edric's neck, Edric ends up on his

knees, servicing the entire crew.

Leo’s life is saved by Runolf, the Viking leader, but then Leo is chosen to be the offering to the

harvest god…

This giant bundle contains all six sizzling stories in Isabel Dare's bestselling gay Viking series

Taken by the Vikings and Claimed by the Vikings.

Stealing Ganymede

When Zeus assumes the shape of a giant eagle and carries beautiful young Ganymede off to the

top of Mount Olympus to seduce him, Ganymede is outraged. What will it take for Zeus to claim him
for his own?

Party Favor

On the night of his 21st birthday, Alex gets a code word that allows his boyfriend Jeremy to use

him in any way he wants. What Alex doesn’t know is that Jeremy is taking him to a night club for his
birthday party, and all the guests know the code word, too…

Caught by Scylla

A beautiful but arrogant prince sails too close to the lair of the legendary Scylla. The monstrous

being’s slick tentacles caress the humiliated prince everywhere, while an entire ship full of sailors
watches!

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Isabel Dare writes sexy, steamy and perversely romantic tales, taking inspiration from classic

and modern myth.

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Isabel’s website:

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Legal Notice

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without written permission from the authors, except for the inclusion of brief
quotations in a review.

Every story in this book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the authors’ imagination or are being used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover
content is being used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted on the cover is a model.