Chapter Seven
Now was the worst time to still be a little drunk. Jamie was staring skyward at over a dozen rough-looking me while his boo was talking with the bartender.
Why was the bartender there? From the way Cesar was talking with him, the guy had clout. What barkeep could make so many men listen to him?
This isn’t a normal biker club.
Some of the things Jamie had thought earlier were coming back.
Like how the eyes of the dude he’d accidentally darted in the head had glowed.
It was the third time Jamie had seen that happen. His gaze flicked between them all, watching their interactions. The only upside to having an abusive brother—which sounded horrible just thinking that—was the fact Jamie had gotten pretty good at reading people.
Or in this case, listening. Animal-like growls erupted softly here and there as the men talked. A few tilted their heads back and sniffed the air, as if they could smell the attackers that had already taken off.
Jamie might have a lot of difficulties thanks to his repeated head trauma, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t figure things out.
It just took him longer than most people. Although Jamie didn’t exactly know what he was piecing together, he knew it was something significant. After what had just taken place, he should be bouncing around, implementing his soothing techniques, spiraling out of control like he had in the alley.
But he was too terrified of drawing any attention to himself.
A few times Cesar glanced at him, his sexy eyebrows doing a little dip, like he could already read Jamie like a book and knew something was off.
I need to get out of here. Something isn’t right about this situation or these men. Just act normal and slowly slip behind the barn. Once you’re out of sight, run your butt off.
And go where? Home? Because that was such a better option. It seemed no matter what Jamie did, he couldn’t catch a freaking break. He’d wanted so badly for Cesar to be one of the good guys, had crushed for two months fantasizing about his stud muffin.
He’s been nothing but nice, patient, and caring. How can he be a bad guy? That didn’t make any sense, but tell that to Jamie’s panicking brain.
Cautiously, he started to walk backward, one soft, careful step at a time. As long as he moved slowly enough, they wouldn’t realize he was gone until Jamie was already sprinting across the field behind the barn.
The gravel shifted under his sneaker, causing the pebbles to crunch noisily. Jamie winced but moved faster. If there wasn’t anything wrong with the men, they wouldn’t react to—
Jamie gasped when Cesar glanced his way again, his eyes glowing a beautiful amber as he turned fully toward him.
“Don’t run, colibrí,”
Cesar cautioned in a deep, growling tone.
“You’ll trigger it to chase you.”
Trigger what? Jamie trembled when he noticed all their eyes were glowing.
Oh, heck no! He wasn’t sticking around to find out. Jamie spun and bolted, feeling like he was going to vomit from drinking so much. Already he was sweating his butt off, and he hadn’t even reached the back of the barn yet.
Don’t turn around. Whatever you do, don’t you dare look over your shoulder! Jamie glanced back.
“Ack!”
It wasn’t Cesar chasing after him, but a massive wolf with gorgeous gray fur and scary sharp teeth! Jamie ran even faster, then tripped over a big piece of metal sticking out of the ground. He screamed as he fell, throwing out his hands to break his fall. His knee collided with the metal thingy, causing an explosion of pain to surge through his right leg.
“Ow!”
he cried out, clutching his injured leg and rocking back and forth, hoping the pain wouldn’t last long.
Ferocious growls erupted around him. Jamie lifted his gaze to see the beautiful wolf that had been chasing him fending off the other wolves. Holy crud. Just how many were there?
As the wolf battled, another, much larger one slowly approached Jamie, its light brown eyes focused on him. Jamie struggled to breathe as he watched, but instead of attacking, the ginormous wolf positioned itself in front of him, like it was protecting him.
The snarling pack of wolves finally retreated, taking a few steps back. The gray wolf’s fur was stained with blood, and it limped as it turned around.
Jamie’s brows shot up when he saw its tropical-blue eyes! What the biscuits? “Cesar? Is that… Are you the wolf?”
It limped over to Jamie, head low, ears slightly pinned back. The wolf’s blue eyes locked with his, filled with something that looked a lot like worry. Was the wolf actually worried about Jamie’s reaction?
His heart raced like it might burst from his chest as the massive gray creature approached.
“Holy…you’re a wolf, lust muffin,”
Jamie whispered, his voice catching in his throat.
“An actual wolf. With fur and everything.”
The larger wolf trotted away as the gray wolf stopped a few feet away, those incredible blue eyes never leaving Jamie’s face. Blood matted the fur on his right shoulder, dark against the soft gray. It’d been hurt defending him.
“This is crazy,”
he muttered, counting backward from twelve in his head.
“Six, five, four... No, wait. I messed up.”
He started over.
“Doce, once, diez...”
The wolf took another cautious step forward, a soft whine escaping its throat.
“You’re hurt,”
Jamie said, momentarily forgetting his own fear. Blood dripped onto the ground from where one of the other wolves had bitten its shoulder.
“Because of me. Because I ran.”
It tilted its head, ears perking forward like it understood what Jamie was saying.
“I just freaked out,”
he explained, words tumbling out faster now.
“I mean, glowing eyes? Then actual wolves? Who wouldn’t run?”
He paused, taking a deep breath.
“But it’s you. Even as a wolf with teeth that could probably bite my arm off, you’re still my dreamboat.”
The wolf huffed, almost like a laugh, then carefully settled on the ground a few feet away. Not crowding, not threatening. Just waiting.
Jamie’s knee throbbed where he’d hit it, but he barely noticed now. Curiosity was taking over, pushing past the fear. His cupcake was a wolf. A freaking wolf!
“Can I...”
He swallowed hard, gathering his courage.
“Can I touch you?”
The wolf crawled forward on its belly, inching closer until it was within arm’s reach. Jamie slowly extended his hand, letting it hover in the air between them.
Leaning forward, the wolf pressed its muzzle against Jamie’s palm. The fur was softer than he’d expected, warm and silky against his skin. Jamie gasped at the contact, not from fear but from wonder.
“Oh my god, you’re gorgeous,”
he breathed, running his hands through the thick gray fur.
“I mean, you’re gorgeous as a human too, but look at you!”
He pulled back to take in the full sight of Cesar’s wolf form.
“Your fur matches my eyes. Did you know that? And it’s so soft. Do you use conditioner on it? Is that a weird question? That’s probably a really weird question.”
The wolf’s eyes closed briefly, leaning into the touch. Jamie grew bolder, running both hands through the fur around its neck, careful to avoid the injured shoulder.
“You know what’s weird? I’m not even that freaked out. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m totally freaked out, but not in a bad way. It’s like when you find out your favorite candy bar now comes in king size.”
He continued stroking its fur, finding the rhythm soothing.
“Your fur is the prettiest thing I’ve ever touched. It’s like petting a cloud, if clouds were solid and had teeth. Does that make sense? Probably not.”
A few of the other wolves had settled down, watching the interaction with what Jamie swore looked like amusement in their glowing eyes. The biggest one—probably the bartender in the suit—remained standing, ears constantly moving.
Jamie laughed, the sound slightly hysterical.
“I’ve been hanging out at a werewolf bar!”
Cesar huffed again, nudging Jamie’s hand when he stopped petting.
“Sorry, pookie.”
He resumed his stroking.
“I’m just processing. It’s not every day you find out your crush turns into a wolf. Though it explains why you buy so much food every Sunday.”
The wolf tilted its head, those pretty blue eyes sparkling with intelligence.
“I don’t care, you know,”
Jamie said, voice growing serious as he combed his fingers through the thick ruff around its neck.
“That you’re... whatever you are. Werewolf? Is that the right word? Or do you prefer something else?”
Cesar just watched him, ears forward, completely focused on him.
“I’ve spent my whole life being the weird one,”
he continued, scratching behind its ear and smiling when the wolf’s eyes half closed in pleasure.
“The one who talks too fast, moves too much, thinks differently. The one Grant calls ‘slow’ because it’s easier than admitting he’s the reason my brain works the way it does.”
Jamie shifted, wincing as his injured knee protested.
“The point is I know what it’s like when people look at you like you’re a freak. And I’d never do that to you, jellybean. Wolf or human, you’re still the same guy who cooked me dinner and made me feel special.”
The wolf moved closer, resting its massive head gently in Jamie’s lap. The weight was solid, comforting, as if it was trying to communicate without words.
“Tropical blue,”
Jamie whispered, tracing a finger between its eyes.
“That’s how I knew it was you. Nobody else has that eye color, like the ocean in those travel magazines. The ones I used to look at when I needed to escape for a while.”
“I bet you guys can hear everything I’m saying, can’t you?”
he asked, looking around at the watchful eyes.
“Which is kind of embarrassing because I’m basically confessing my feelings to Cesar in front of all of you.”
A few of the wolves made huffing sounds that reminded him of laughter. The wolf in his lap nudged his hand again, as if encouraging him to keep talking, keep petting.
“Does this mean I get to be part of your wolf pack?”
he asked, hope creeping into his voice.
“Because I’ve never really belonged anywhere before. Except maybe with you.”
The wolf pulled back, those gorgeous eyes studying Jamie’s face with an intensity that made his breath catch. Then it licked his cheek.
“I’m taking that as a yes. And just so you know,”
he whispered into the wolf’s ear, “when you’re human again, I’m going to kiss you. A lot. So be prepared for that.”
The wolf’s tail wagged in response. Jamie grinned, wrapping his arms around its neck.
“Best first date ever.”
* * * *
Grant gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as he drove down the dark country road. His borrowed truck—some piece of shit he’d talked his neighbor into lending him—rattled with every pothole. The engine made a grinding noise that set his teeth on edge, but it had gotten them out of there fast enough.
Should’ve put a bullet right through that bastard’s skull.
The guy had humiliated him. Made him look like a punk in front of everyone at the store, including Jamie. Grant’s jaw clenched thinking about it. He’d followed the asshole after he’d left, watched him ride that fancy motorcycle to some biker bar.
And what the fuck? Jamie had been there? Since when did his dipshit baby brother hang around bikers? Grant had started to get out to take care of Jamie when he’d straddled that bike, but Jamie wasn’t the main target.
“Man, I can’t believe you handed me a gun!”
Mike whined from the backseat, his voice cracking like a damn teenager.
“You said we was just gonna scare the guy! You ain’t say nothin’ about shootin’ nobody!”
Grant rolled his eyes, sick of listening to the little bitch moan. Mike owed him for some drugs anyway, so the least he could do was shut his mouth and help out. It was supposed to be simple—follow the guy, put the fear of god in him, rough the asshole up to make his point. Show him what happened when he disrespected the wrong person.
But then he’d taken off on that bike with Jamie wrapped around him, and Grant had seen red. Did his little brother think he had a bodyguard now? A wannabe hero just so he could get into Jamie’s pants? Grant didn’t give a shit what Jamie did with other guys, but if the twig thought he had some muscle at his back now, Grant would have to prove no biker scum could protect him.
“You’re acting like we killed him,”
Grant muttered, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“We didn’t even hit nothing.”
Which only pissed Grant off further. Not that he’d seen the guy alive when those punk-ass men showed up. He just knew in his gut the guy was still alive. But now he knew where to find him.
And Jamie.
In the passenger seat, Rowan was smiling that weird-ass grin of his. The guy never said much, but he was always smiling about something. Creepy as hell, but useful when things got messy. He’d been the one who’d suggested following the biker guy and getting a little payback.
“I already done time!”
Mike’s voice climbed higher.
“I ain’t going back! You hear me? If the cops come asking about this shootin’, I ain’t going down for your stupid bullshit! They nearly shot me, making me yell!”
Grant’s hands tightened on the wheel. The rage that had been simmering all evening flared hot in his chest. Stupid bullshit? That prick had put hands on him, made him look weak in front of his own brother. Nobody did that to Grant and walked away.
“You threatening me, Mike?”
he asked quietly.
“I’m just saying, if they trace this back to us, I’m rolling over. I can’t go back—”
Grant yanked the wheel to the right, pulling off onto the shoulder. Gravel crunched under the tires as he threw the truck into Park. In the sudden silence, he could hear Mike’s panicked breathing from the backseat.
“You’re not telling anybody nothing.”
Grant reached under his seat where he’d thrown his piece.
From beside him came Rowan’s soft chuckle, barely audible but somehow filling the entire cab.
* * * *
Cesar pulled on his jeans, wincing as the denim brushed against his still-healing bite wounds. Around him, the pack dressed in silence, the rustle of fabric and clink of belt buckles the only sounds disturbing the night air.
The fight had been messier than necessary—his pack too eager to protect Jamie from what they perceived as a threat. Stupid misunderstanding. His shoulder throbbed where Santiago had sunk his teeth in, thinking Cesar was chasing the human to harm him rather than protect him.
“What happened?”
Matias asked, his voice low as he buttoned his shirt, eyes never leaving Jamie, who sat on a fallen log nearby, staring at the wolves-turned-men with wide-eyed fascination.
Lifting his head, Cesar inhaled deeply, sorting through the scents lingering in the air. Gunpowder. Blood. Fear. And something else—something familiar that made his wolf snarl. The acrid smell of cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes and that distinct chemical reek of someone who’d been marinating in drugs for too long. “Grant.”
“Jamie’s brother?”
Matias’s eyes hardened to chips of amber.
“That’s his scent?”
“Yeah.”
Cesar yanked his shirt over his head, wincing again as it caught on his wound.
“Brother dearest decided to play target practice.”
Matias’s jaw ticked.
“This crosses a line.”
“No shit.”
Cesar grabbed his boots, jamming his feet into them without bothering with socks.
His wolf paced restlessly, hungry for retribution. The image of Jamie’s terrified face as bullets whizzed past them was burned in his memory.
“I’m not telling him it was Grant,”
Cesar said firmly.
“Not tonight. He’s been through enough.”
He glanced at his elegido, who was now chatting animatedly with Diablo, hands waving in the air as he described something. Probably the chase. His mate seemed genuinely unafraid of them now that the initial shock had passed.
Matias nodded once, short and sharp.
“Watch your back. We’ll escort you home.”
His eyes narrowed, cold calculation replacing the earlier anger.
“First sign of trouble, you call me. Got that?”
“Understood.”
Cesar’s mind was already mapping out security measures for his house. Extra locks. Motion sensors. Maybe it was time to finally install that security system Lucio had been pestering him about.
“You good?”
Matias asked, eyeing the bite wound.
“I’ve had worse paper cuts.”
Cesar’s lips quirked into a half-smile.
“Santiago’s losing his touch.”
Not really, but the price of his pack protecting Jamie, even if unnecessary, was worth the pain.
Moving away from the pack, Cesar approached Jamie, who brightened at his arrival. The simple response made something warm spread through him. No one had ever been so genuinely happy to see him before.
“Hey, pookie!”
Jamie beamed up at him.
Diablo smirked, warmth in his eyes.
“Reminds me of Brett.”
His smile faded.
“Si su hermano hijo de puta vuelve a perseguirlo, llámame. Lo enterraré en lo más profundo.”
“Appreciate it.”
Cesar meant it. Crouching before his mate, he gently examined the injury. A shallow cut, already clotting, surrounded by what would become an impressive bruise by morning. Not serious, but it had to hurt. Relief flooded through him. It could have been much worse.
“How bad is it, jellybean?”
Jamie asked, his voice soft but surprisingly steady.
“Not as bad as it looks,”
he confirmed, running his thumb carefully along the edge of the wound.
“Though you’ll be walking funny tomorrow.”
“I’m walking funny now,”
Jamie quipped.
“But that’s the rum’s fault.”
He gestured vaguely at the men around them.
“So... werewolves. I still can’t believe that’s a thing.”
Cesar couldn’t help but smile.
“Wolf shifters, technically. Werewolf implies we only change at the full moon.”
“Wolf shifters,”
Jamie repeated, testing the words.
“Do you shed on furniture? Should I be worried about vacuuming more?”
The unexpected question pulled a laugh from Cesar’s chest. Most people would be having an existential crisis about the supernatural, and here was Jamie, worried about pet hair.
“Only when I’m stressed,” he joked.
Jamie’s eyes found his.
“Does it hurt? When you change, I mean.”
Trust his little hummingbird to be more concerned about Cesar’s pain than his own bleeding knee.
“Not anymore. Used to, when I was younger.”
He glanced at the rip in his elegido’s jeans.
“We’ll put some butterfly bandages on your wound when we get home.”
Home. The word felt right on his tongue.
He helped Jamie to his feet, steadying him when he winced and tested his weight on the injured leg.
“You good to ride?”
“Are you kidding? I just found out my grocery store crush is secretly a wolf shifter. I’m fantastic.”
Jamie’s smile was bright enough to rival the moon overhead.
“Though I could use some Advil. And maybe therapy. But mostly Advil.”
Cesar laughed. Even after being shot at, discovering his crush turned furry, and injuring himself, Jamie’s spirit remained unbroken. The guy was resilient in ways Cesar was only beginning to understand.
How the hell had he gotten so lucky?
His mate leaned into him, warm and trusting.
“Does that mean I get to see your wolf den? Do you have, like, special wolf furniture? A giant dog bed? Sorry, is that offensive?”
“Standard human furniture,”
Cesar assured him, guiding him toward his bike, which Luca had brought to the front of the barn for him.
“Though the couch is extra big.”
“We ride.”
Matias circled his finger in the air. Engines roared to life, the combined sound like a thunderstorm rolling across the plains.
Cesar helped Jamie onto his Harley but, this time, positioning him behind rather than in front. His mate’s arms immediately wrapped around his waist, chest pressed against Cesar’s back, hands coming to rest on his stomach.
“Hold tight.”
He kickstarted the engine, the familiar rumble vibrating between his thighs.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Jamie squeezed him harder.
Matias pulled out first, leading the way with Santiago and Diablo flanking him. Cesar and Jamie followed, with the rest of the pack forming a protective escort, headlights cutting through the night. He fought to keep his focus on the ride rather than on thoughts of what he’d do to Grant when he caught up to him.
The need for revenge burned hot in his gut. His wolf wanted blood, wanted to hunt down Grant and tear him apart for daring to threaten what was his.
But tonight wasn’t about vengeance. Tonight was about Jamie.
Cesar placed one hand over his elegido’s where they locked around his middle. The simple contact grounded him, a reminder of what mattered in this moment.
The rest, the reckoning that was coming for Grant and his friend, could wait until tomorrow. Ahead lay his home, which after tonight would never feel quite the same.
Because, after tonight, it wouldn’t just be his anymore.