Chapter Four
Brad
The tempting smell became tinged with something Brad considered to be fear as they headed into the large, empty warehouse that gave Brad tingles down his spine.
Except the tingles happening in his slacks were way more interesting.
It was peculiar. He’d never become so fixated on someone's scent before.
So instead of listening to Alexander recite tales of murder and mayhem that he most definitely would love, he was working blind and using his nose to find the person who smelled divine.
He did his best not to make it obvious he was sniffing each person as he carefully edged his way through the crowd of men pretending interest in what Alexander was saying.
Until his attention landed on the guy who had really broad shoulders and a massive barrel chest that Brad bet was hairy beneath the clothes, judging by the mane the guy sported.
One he could see when Remy flicked on his phone flashlight when someone tripped over—Ven—and made a song and dance about it.
He didn’t give them more than a passing thought because Brad’s gaze narrowed on a figure in the shadows with the vast chest, who now he noticed was slowing in the shadows.
As yet, Brad hadn’t got a whiff of him, and he seriously wanted to.
His poodle became very lively, and Brad slowed his own pace to match the guy, edging toward him.
Get closer.
What’s with the bossiness? Except Brad’s nose was twitching as he sidled closer, a sense of knowing growing inside him that made his heart pound against his chest wall.
Then Brad caught a solid whiff, and he inhaled deeply.
The scent lit a fire in his chest and refused to release the intoxicating smell he wanted to bathe in.
His interest in the big guy went from a solid ten to a billion, except the guy's footsteps became a snail's pace, hanging back, the mingling scent of fear Brad scented, getting stronger. It burned Brad’s nose.
On instinct, he reached out, needing to touch and also reassure. The shriek that followed made his ears ring and his poodle go into hiding despite the knowledge that this hunk of handsome was their mate .
“What the hell? What did you do that for?”
Brad had lost his voice. The feel of the muscles under the jacket quivered and gave him an idea of just how strong the man—lion—was.
Brad often had dreams of being swept off his feet like a damsel in one of the old movies.
He was a real romantic. And here he was faced with his mate, one who could toss him around easily.
“Excuse me, I think I left something on the stove.”
A frown appeared as Brad’s expectations took a nosedive into the ground so fast, he was stunned into immobility. This was not what he expected when he met his mate. He watched the man run as if the devil himself was chasing him in the opposite direction.
The sound of laughter echoing around the warehouse brought Brad out of his trance and he gave chase. He was small but fast on his feet. Only when he exited the building, he could see no sign of anyone.
Fiddlesticks! He stomped his foot in frustration. Pulling out his cell phone, he put on the flashlight and cast it about for a few seconds, sniffing the night air. His poodle side chose then to come out of hiding.
Which way did he go?
You always expect me to know the answers when you're still in human form.
We can’t shift here, and our mate has very long legs, if you didn’t notice. He’ll be long gone if we shift. Your legs are tiny, and you get tired easily.
That’s right, blame me.
I’m not blaming you for anything, I’m just making an observation. And we’re getting off the topic. Can you smell which way our mate went?
Won’t he have gone back to his car? Assuming he came in one.
Brad groaned at the obvious. The scent had clearly muddled his thoughts. Having a great sense of direction, he took off running, retracing the route they’d taken.
Sweating and breathless, he reached the lot just in time to watch a car fly down the road at a high speed.
He waved, only the car never slowed as it shot past him.
He caught a glimpse of remarkable green eyes filled with what looked like mortification, before Brad was staring at the disappearing taillights.
“Well, that was not how I thought meeting a mate would be like,” he muttered dejectedly, looking back the way he’d come, his shoulders drooping. It was pointless going back because he was sure they would have moved on, and he hadn’t caught the name of the bar they were going to visit.
He trudged back to his car, swiping at the curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. Inside the car, he sat there for a minute debating what he should do next. Wait for everyone to return? The idea was very unappealing when the night had hardly begun.
He sniffed and huffed, reaching to insert the key into the ignition.
Going home and bingeing on cake seemed like the best idea.
He could email Remy and describe his mate and ask if he could have his address?
Only he was sure that it would break some data protection rules.
Except they were mates, surely that would negate any rules around such things?
Maybe he didn’t want us?
That thought sideswiped him as he drove down the street, slowing to catch his breath.
You scented his fear the same as me. I’d say that whatever set him off wasn’t us.
Was that the case? Brad recalled the snippy comments he’d heard and wondered if that had been the lion. Did the screechy voice his touch evoked compare to the other comments? Could it have been the lion's, too?
He still hadn’t quite decided what to make of it all by the time he had arrived home and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, then sat in front of his wide-screen TV with a plate of fruitcake. What do you think I should do?
Why are you asking me? You seem to have all the answers.
The miffed tone was all about not getting to shift. His poodle side loved to strut his stuff, and usually Brad had no issue with that. Just tonight was different, and he reminded his other side of that once more. We needed to find our mate quickly.
A rude noise followed. He drove past us and didn’t even hesitate to stop.
Yes, that may be so. Brad shoved a large piece of cake into his mouth to eat his feelings. You brought up the smell of fear coming from him.
Yes, I know. Are you sure he wasn’t scared of us. Are you sure it was something else? He’s an alpha.
Brad hesitated with a piece of cake close to his lips as his eyes narrowed at his poodle's assumption that alphas shouldn’t feel scared. Anyone can be scared of anything. Maybe he had a traumatic event in the dark as a child? He warmed to the idea even when Brad’s heart ached at the possibility.
Then we need to find him and give him a cuddle.
Brad agreed, and that brought him back to how to find out who the mystery lion was.
“You’re awfully quiet there, boss man. Was it something that happened at your ghost thingy?” Willy, a big alpha bear, asked from his crouched position between the shower stall and sink, fixing the piping. For his size, he always seemed to fit even in the most restrictive spaces.
Brad added the grouting to the tiles he was placing up the wall on the other side of the bathroom. The blue Morty had picked had flecks of silver that reminded him of stars in the night sky before full dark. Was he quiet?
He supposed he was. The email he had sent to Remy early this morning, apologizing for leaving the way he did was what occupied his thoughts.
He’d explained the reason for leaving was because of the lion.
Everyone there had heard him screech, so it wasn’t like Remy hadn’t a clue that the lion was frightened.
“In around about way, I suppose it was,” he answered, continuing to lay tile and not looking directly at Willy.
After a sleepless night of debating how to glean information on his mate, Brad had told a small white lie.
He’d explained the guy had gone off with something of Brad’s—which wasn’t a total lie, he had…
the opportunity to mate—and he wanted to ask for it back.
He was still waiting for Remy to reply, and yes, he’d checked his cell like thirty times since he’d arrived on site. Who could blame him?
The clang of a wrench on metal filled the silence for a minute before Willy questioned, “What roundabout way? You’re bein’ real cryptic, boss.
It ain’t like you.” Willy sat back on his heels and stared up at him.
“Did you scare yourself?” His grin was wide as he chuckled.
“Is that why you ain’t talkin’ ‘bout it?”
“Behave!” Brad matched Willy’s grin.
“Hellooo… Brad, are you in here?” Morty called from one of the other rooms, and the scent of warm cherry muffins came through the doorway.
“I am if you got me some muffins with cherries in them!” he exclaimed, already placing down his things and wiping the excess grout from his fingers down the legs of his work jeans.
“Don’t eat them all!” Willy shouted behind him as he hustled into the bedroom.
“Did he call your name?” Brad fired back over his shoulder, moving through the building debris scattered about.
“Not fair,” Willy muttered loud enough for Brad to hear, “you could at least save me one.”
Chuckling, he entered the main living area and stopped at the sight of Morty, who was grinning widely, turning in a slow circle.
“Every time I come up, it seems something else has changed.” His arm swept wide to encompass the changes, and Brad took a step back to avoid getting a slap in the face.
Morty had little spatial awareness and was more than a little clumsy. The plate he held tilted, and Brad reached to take it before the muffins ended up on the dusty floor as Morty went to turn again.
“We’re keeping to the deadline,” he answered, his gaze dropping to Morty’s growing belly. The clock was ticking for all of them.
“I can see it now.” Morty met Brad’s gaze, blushing. “I’m gonna confess it was harder for me to see you getting it all done in time.” He cupped his belly. “Let’s hope the baby listens to reason and doesn’t decide to arrive early.”
Brad hid a wince at trying to adjust the already impossibly tight deadline. “We’ll figure it out,” he answered reassuringly, while sending a prayer that they wouldn’t have to.
He held up the plate looking for a distraction. “What did I do to get special treatment today?” He usually went down to the café to grab a treat, so was intrigued enough to ask now he thought about it.
Morty’s hands fluttered about his sides, his gaze not quite meeting Brad’s. “How was the ghost walk? Did you meet anyone interesting?”
The hairs on the back of Brad’s neck rose. “I didn’t get to meet many folks.”
The frown was immediate, as was the look of confusion Morty wore as his shoulders slumped. “You didn’t? So, you never got the chance to meet Lionel?”
“Lionel?” he asked, a little breathless for reasons he couldn’t fathom.
“Hector’s friend,” Morty said, his confusion increasing. “We got him a ticket to the event to thank him.”
“Thank him?”
Morty nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, he got Hector to the Bucket List Buddies event we met at, and we thought it would be nice to return the favor and send him to another event.”
“Oh…what does he look like?” Brad asked, holding back the desire to demand a full head-to-toe description.
“Erm… he’s an alpha—”
“A lion?” Brad interrupted because he wasn’t good at being patient.
“Why, yes, he is. Did you meet a lion?”
He had, and he cursed himself for not paying more attention to what other shifter species were at the event. Could his mate be Hector’s friend?