Chapter 54 Harland
HARLAND
After his mates went to bed, Harland sat with them for a bit, watching from the armchair by the empty fireplace as the three of them slept.
Warren lay between Max and Marcus, the two alphas hugging him between them like a shared teddy bear, his face tucked into the space beneath Marcus’s jaw.
A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.
Harland frowned. The room was cold, but trapped between two alpha werewolves, Warren would overheat and wake up a sweaty mess long before the night was over.
Rising, he walked over to the window and opened it. An icy draft swept into the room. Harland stood in front of the open window and stared up at the night sky.
The moon, hidden by clouds, called to his wolf.
It stirred, sleepy and content, still basking in the feeling of having its mates close.
Turning away from the window, he gathered up his boots from where he’d dropped them earlier and walked over to the bed.
As he bent down and pulled them on, zipping them up over his calves, he observed his mates closely.
The sweat on Warren’s brow was drying, the cold leaching in from the window offsetting the werewolf space heaters on either side of him.
He looked peaceful and deceptively innocent.
Omegas tended toward resilience, in Harland’s experience. He wasn’t surprised that Warren was adapting so well to his new role, or that he was so eager to be with them.
Max and Marcus might scoff at Harland for being old fashioned, but he truly believed that Warren was their perfect match – that fate and magic had brought him into their lives.
“Are you being creepy?”
Harland blinked. He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Max waking up and looking at him.
“No.” Harland kept his voice low as he smiled down at his mate. Max was no stranger to waking up to Harland watching him.
It wasn’t creepy. It was just something Harland enjoyed.
“You are,” Max said, closing his eyes and sounding very pleased. “You should come to bed and cuddle me.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Didn’t ask if you were tired,” Max muttered, closing his eyes and pushing his face into the back of Warren’s neck. He mouthed at the scar of his mating bite. “Asked you to cuddle.”
Harland was tempted, but before he could make a decision one way or another, Max fell back to sleep.
It was for the best. Harland enjoyed cuddling Max, but it was not in his nature to rest during the night.
Taking a step back, he zipped his suit up to his Adam’s apple. Now that his mates were asleep, there was no reason to show off his pecs. He left the room.
Walking through the dark house, Harland sought out the bedroom where Warren’s sister was sleeping. He stopped at the door, listening to the sound of her breathing and making sure she was okay, before exploring the rest of the property.
It quickly became clear that Marcus hadn’t lived in the house for very long. There were few personal touches, the décor bland and curated by an interior decorator, and the only places that really bore an imprint of Marcus’s scent outside his bedroom were the office, media room and the basement.
Harland huffed to himself in amusement as he made his way down the stairs into the finished basement that doubled as Marcus’s dungeon.
The scent of sex, sweat and leather saturated the space, and it was clear that Marcus had been using the playroom for longer than he’d been living in the house upstairs.
Marcus had moved into his hookup pad. Max would find that hilarious.
He rifled through Marcus’s toys and gear, finding nothing particularly shocking but admiring his collection of whips and floggers, and then walked back up the stairs and exited the house.
A draft yanked on the door when he opened it. Harland quickly stepped outside and closed the door behind him and walked down to the sidewalk.
The cold stiffened the leather of his suit, making it feel stiff and unwieldy, but other than that, he was unaffected by the temperature.
The heated sidewalks were an extravagant luxury. Harland caught himself feeling pleased at the indulgence, happy and a little proud at how well his old pack had done for themselves. The sprawling gated neighborhood was a far cry from the sad little cluster of houses he’d lived in as a child.
Not following any set path, Harland walked aimlessly until he caught the scent of one of Max’s brothers mingled with the acrid tang of cigarette smoke. He decided to follow it.
Keeping his footsteps light, he made his way toward the center of the gated community and kept walking until he reached the main house.
There, at the stairs leading down from the wraparound porch, sat a lone figure smoking a cigarette.
He was bundled up in a thick parka, wearing a wool hat, with a blanket on his lap.
Harland came up from the side of the house, crossing the snowy lawn and waiting until he was next to the stairs before saying, “Nice night.”
Max’s brother startled violently, dropping his cigarette onto the blanket and letting out a muffled curse as he sprang to his feet.
“Fuck a duck, where the fuck did you come from?”
Seeing Max’s face glare at him with such a belligerent expression was an amusing experience.
Harland tilted his head and observed the young alpha silently.
“You’re the vampire,” Max’s brother said, looking him up and down. He did not look impressed.
“I am,” Harland agreed.
“What’s with the look?” The question was belligerent, and Harland guessed the young wolf was spoiling for a fight.
“I have a leather fetish,” Harland said, keeping his face impassive.
The way Max’s brother’s mouth slackened into a surprised little O was the funniest thing he’d seen all night.
“Seriously?”
Harland dipped his chin.
“Want to fight?”
The question was brusque, but Harland took it for the friendly invitation it was. It was clear that Max’s brothers did not have Max’s hangups around violence. They understood what Max didn’t seem to get.
Fighting was fun.
He’d also likely spent the evening sparring with members of Marcus’s pack, figuring out where he stood in the hierarchy.
“I’m too strong for you,” Harland said, his even tone belying the taunt in his words.
“Fuck you, I’ll grind your ugly face into the snow before-”
Moving too fast for the young wolf to follow, Harland grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushed his face into the snow and planted his knee firmly into the space between his shoulder blades.
“Submit.”
The word was a demand, and Max’s brother went limp and pliant.
Harland stepped off him and took a seat on the stairs, plucking the cigarette off from where it had fallen on the blanket and flicking it away. Max’s brother pushed himself to his feet and dusted the snow off his front.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered, sounding shell-shocked. “You’re fast.”
“I am,” Harland said, folding the blanket up and placing it next to him.
Max’s brother walked up to him and extended his hand.
“Dave Whitt. It’s nice to meet you.”
Harland shook his hand, ignoring the flinch when his ice-cold hand made contact with Dave’s fingers.
“Harland Hill.”
Dave crossed his arms and took a step back.
Harland observed him, marveling that the same genes that made Max could have produced someone so different from his mate.
Dave was bulkier than Max, with thicker arms and a wider neck, but despite having near identical faces, Harland couldn’t find much of his mate in Dave’s bearing or disposition.
“This is weird,” Dave said, the words coming out of him explosively, as if he couldn’t bear to keep the observation inside of him anymore. “Right? This is weird?”
“You’ll get used to it,” Harland said.
“I lost like half my fights today.” Dave wrinkled his nose, an angrier version of how Max’s face moved when he was frustrated. “A fifteen-year-old girl beat me, which is bullshit because I know I could have beaten her up if my wolf didn’t suddenly throw a bitch fit.”
Harland nodded. “That happens.”
“We should have stayed in Florida. We had a good thing going for us.”
Harland said nothing, letting his expressionless face do the talking.
“Okay, so maybe not a good thing, but it worked for us.”
“You’ll adapt,” Harland said. Dave might be discomforted now, but he was exactly the kind of person who would find comfort in the structure and hierarchy of a large pack.
“So, what’s my brother like?” Dave asked, sitting down on the folded-up blanket. “Is he really a fireman?”
Harland nodded and Dave let out a snort. “That’s so lame.”
Harland punched him in the stomach, making him double over and gasp.
“He likes it,” Harland said, waiting for Dave to catch his breath. “And he likes his colleagues.”
“Jesus,” Dave said, rubbing his abdomen.
“You and your brothers are going to be nice to him.”
Harland didn’t make any threats, but he did turn and look Dave in the eye. The young wolf swallowed.
“Sure,” Dave said, licking his lips. He looked away and laughed. “Fuck me, you’re scary.”
Harland patted him on the back.
“And we were always going to be nice to him,” Dave continued, a complicated series of expressions crossing his face.
Harland watched, and he could see Dave actively push the instincts of his wolf down.
Dave rounded on him and poked him in the chest. “And fuck you for implying that you have to threaten us to make us be nice to him. He was our brother way before you got your creepy vampire claws in him.”
That was very much like Max, Harland mused. He wondered if the ability to ignore your wolf was something Max and his brothers were born with, or if it was a product of how they were raised.
Most of Max’s brothers hadn’t been able to put up a fight when Marcus and his pack stormed the compound, so maybe it was something specific to the genes that Dave and Max shared.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Harland said. He rose up. “You’ll come visit us when things settle down and you and your brothers have some time off.”
“Maybe, we’ll see if-”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Dave snapped his jaw shut, his expression mutinous.
Harland wasn’t sure if Max would love Dave or despise him. It could go either way.
“Good night, Dave. It was interesting to meet you.”
Harland walked back across the lawn to the sidewalk, continuing his exploration of the gated community. He could feel Dave watching him until he turned the corner.