Chapter 7 Warren #2
“You are behaving like a crazy person,” Warren said, putting on his seat belt and holding on to the door as Max tore out of the parking lot.
“Shut up,” Max snapped, looking furious. “You come in here smelling like… like that – and I didn’t – because you…” He trailed off, unable to articulate his thoughts out of sheer fury.
To his surprise, Warren wasn’t all that afraid. Max was behaving like an absolute insane person, but Warren didn’t get the sense that he was in any danger.
The fury was very obviously directed at Marcus.
When Max plowed right through a red light, Warren reassessed the amount of danger he was in.
“Okay, pull over. I’m going to drive.”
“What?” Max looked at him, taking his eyes off the road and making Warren’s heart leap into his throat.
“I’ll go with you to Hill’s house, but I’m driving.” When Max didn’t pull over, Warren snapped. “Pull the fuck over before you kill us both!”
Max jerked, startled by Warren's shout. He pulled over, onto the sidewalk, nearly mowing down a pedestrian and making the car behind them come to a crashing halt and start honking furiously. Saying nothing, Max jumped out of the car and came across to the passenger side door.
Warren unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted over to the driver’s seat.
“Thank you,” he said, adjusting the seat and mirror before turning on his blinker and driving back onto the street.
The pedestrian who had almost been hit gave him the evil eye, looking apoplectic with rage, but Warren pretended he didn’t see him.
This was so embarrassing.
“I can't believe you slept with another alpha,” Max said, his arms crossed and his expression furious and upset. “Why would you-”
He clamped his jaw shut and didn’t finish the question.
“I’m sorry that you’re upset, but you don’t own me. I’m allowed to date other people.”
“No, you’re not!” Max growled. “You’re supposed to be mine.”
Warren took a deep breath. He had not signed up for this.
“I don’t belong to anybody, I-”
“That claiming bite on your neck says different,” Max interrupted. “That’s so barbaric. Who even puts a claiming bite that high? It’s like he’s tattooed his name on your forehead.”
“It’s just a little bite,” Warren said. “It means we’re compatible. It doesn’t have to mean more than we want it to mean.”
Max gave him a look like he was a particularly slow toddler.
“It’s a claiming bite. You’ve been claimed.”
Warren thought back to Marcus’s joke about how he ‘owned’ him now. It had been a joke, right?
“Harland says that respectful claiming bites are placed where they can be hidden by a normal shirt,” Max grumbled, seething and clenching his fists. “Putting it where it can’t be hidden is a sign of disrespect.” He glared at Warren. “Why would you pick a guy like that? Who even is he?”
Warren didn’t answer. Even if Marcus’s bite had some kind of significance to other werewolves, it wasn’t like that had to mean anything to Warren. He was human.
Was that what Marcus meant when he said the bite only meant what he wanted it to mean? He had said that it meant he was off-limits to other werewolves, so it wasn’t like he’d lied.
Had he?
“Who is he?” Max asked again, his voice turning into a deep growl at the end of the question.
Warren clenched his jaw. That was none of Max’s business.
“Tell me!”
“I need you to calm down,” Warren said. He slowed down, realizing with a start that he might be heading from the frying pan and into the fire. He pulled over onto the side of the road.
Max turned to him with a furious glare. “Why are we stopping?”
Warren ignored the question.
“Harland isn’t going to go off the handle, is he? I’m taking you to him to calm down. I am not dealing with him if he’s going to be as crazy as you are.”
Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his shoulders tense, and breathed out slowly.
“Harland will know what to do.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“He’ll be calm,” Max promised. “He’ll know how to deal with this.”
Warren threw his hands up in exasperation. “There’s nothing to deal with! I’m not a thing that you guys get to lay claim to. I’m a person.”
“I know that. But he should have smelled my scent on you and stayed away. Claiming you was rude.”
Max sounded petulant, but Warren was pleased to note that the hysteric mania that had taken him over earlier was lessened.
“I’m going to drop you off and let Harland deal with you.” Warren pulled back onto the road. “Is he even going to be awake?”
“I’ll wake him up,” Max grumbled.
The rest of the drive was silent, though Max kept fidgeting and making frustrated little noises to himself. When they pulled up the long driveway of Harland’s creepy vampire mansion, Max jumped out of the truck before they’d stopped moving and ran around to the driver’s side door.
Warren unbuckled his seatbelt and took a fortifying breath. He really hoped that Harland was going to be normal about this and take control of Max. He didn’t know what he’d do if the vampire joined Max in his jealous rage.
As Warren climbed out of the truck, his feet hadn’t even hit the ground before Max grabbed him and tossed him back over his shoulder and ran up to the house. He unlocked the door and carried Warren into the house.
The last time Warren had been inside Harland’s mansion, he hadn’t gone further than to the conservatory. This time, Max carried him down a different hallway to a massive steel door. It had three locks, requiring a key, Max’s fingerprint, and a code before swinging open.
Max sped through the now open door and descended down a truly creepy set of stone stairs that seemed to go on forever. Dim lights built into the wall provided just enough light that Warren could make out the individual steps, and as they descended, they went deep enough that Warren’s ears popped.
After what seemed like an eternity, the stairs came to an end. Max put Warren down, and even though he was furious with him, Warren pressed close to him.
The staircase terminated in a tiny hallway with another steel door blocking the way, and with the lack of light, rough floor, and oppressive silence, it was probably the creepiest space Warren had ever occupied.
“He better not be hanging upside down in there,” Warren muttered, watching as Max used his fingerprint to unlock the final lock on the door.
Max barked out a startled laugh and gave him an amused look.
“He’s not.”
The door opened and Warren was surprised to see a normal-looking living room on the other side.
There were no windows, but the large room was both cozy and elegant.
Dark green wallpaper covered the walls, framed by wood paneling and decorated with moody abstract oil paintings and nature scenes.
The furniture was rich and sumptuous, upholstered with jewel-toned velvets, and arranged cozily around a large fireplace.
Old fashioned and just on the right side of over the top, with two magnificent chandeliers providing light and tying it all together, it looked like something from a movie.
It was very on brand for Harland.
“He’s through here, in the bedroom.” Max grabbed Warren’s hand and pulled him across the floor – the polished hardwood decorated with some very expensive-looking Persian rugs – and toward a gleaming door made of dark oak. “He might take a second to wake up.”
Having seen the living room, Warren was pretty sure he knew what the bedroom was going to look like.
He was wrong.
Sparse and utilitarian, the bedroom was less of a room and more of a closet.
The walls were lined with black wallpaper dusted with tiny specs of gold, catching the light from a small lamp hanging from the ceiling made from crystals in the form of a sun, and empty except for a narrow bed tucked against the wall.
Warren blinked, surprised at the sight of Harland lying there. He didn’t know what he’d expected Harland to sleep in, but it was not a full-body motorcycle racing suit and full-face helmet.
“Harland, I need you to wake up,” Max said. He did not enter the room.
“Why is he wearing that?” Warren asked, his curiosity overcoming him.
“Harland,” Max said again, ignoring Warren’s question.
Between one blink and the next – too fast for Warren to see or make sense of – the figure of Harland’s body moved from the bed to the doorway, a gloved hand wrapping around Warren’s throat and lifting him off the floor.
Flailing, clawing in shock at the hand on his throat, Warren looked to the side and saw that Max was being held up just like himself. Unlike Warren, however, he wasn’t flailing or trying to get away.
Warren followed Max’s lead and forced himself to be still.
After a few seconds, Harland lowered them both to the floor and took a step back.
He pulled off his helmet and yanked off the balaclava he wore underneath.
His eyes were rimmed with red, his expression tired, and his sharpened vampire fangs were on full display.
Warren coughed and sputtered, rubbing his throat where Harland had grabbed him.
“I told you not to wake me up unless there was an emergency.”
Harland’s voice was like gravel.
Instead of answering, Max grabbed Warren under his arms and lifted him up, thrusting him toward Harland and holding him up like an offering.
Harland looked at him, his expression blank, before inhaling through his nose and going unnaturally still.
“I see.”
“What are we going to do?” Max asked, yanking Warren back to his chest and squeezing him.
Harland watched them without any hint on his expression as to what he was feeling. Warren had never met anyone with such a consistent poker face.
“Well, the first thing you’re going to do is put Warren down. I take it you forced him to come here?”
Max made a noncommittal sound, his hold on Warren tightening before he reluctantly lowered him to his feet.