2. Chapter 2
He’d worked late into the night, then slept most of the day, and not a single person had been around to nag him about it.
That was the whole point of his move to the cottage, a concession he’d had to fight for five months ago.
At the time, some pack members, even the ones who’d known him his whole life, had been sure the prospect of no one to cook and clean and run his errands would drive him back to the mansion. Had they met him?
When that didn’t happen, they’d floated assigning young pack members to handle his chores, and he’d squashed that idea flat. The last thing he wanted was constant foot traffic through his place, and the surveillance and reporting that came with it.
As the sun dropped below the horizon, throwing a warm pink and gold glow across the bed, restlessness took hold of him. He reached for his phone and then stopped. The pull of the outdoors and a hard run easily won out over the habit of checking messages.
Roman rose, and the flannel sheet slid off his hips, baring his chest and the dark pack insignia inked over his left pectoral. He’d let them ink it as a compromise, a show of allegiance, but every time he caught it in the mirror, he just saw a cattle brand.
He showered and threw on his usual, black jeans, boots, and a snug dark tee shirt. The mirror caught him dragging damp hair back off his face, the pale eyes, the skin gone bronze from a summer of running the property. He grabbed his leather jacket off the hook and headed for the door.
His hearing picked the forest apart. Birds, the rustle of leaves, the quick dash of a rabbit running for cover, and a deer’s hoofbeats far off.
Then the sound of boots crunching on the gravel drive had him scowling.
The cottage sat as far from the main house as the property allowed, and still something always found a way to remind him he was on Leitner ground.
“You don’t look dressed for a date,” Evan, his brother’s right hand, quipped, waving a card and eyeing Roman’s attire.
“Had a date a couple days ago, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Didn’t work out?”
“What do you want?”
“Look, Roman, you may be raking in the dough with your... whatever it is you do on that computer.” Evan grimaced. “But this, all of it, could vanish in an instant. You’ve been dating half a year and there’s no one you’ve seen more than once.”
“That you’re aware of.”
“That I’m aware of,” Evan conceded. “Take my advice. Hire the matchmaker. She’ll find exactly what you need in a mate.”
“Stay out of my...”
“We’ll have you married and with pups in no time,” Evan went on, brushing off the protest.
“Good talk,” Roman gritted, and started to walk off when Evan nudged him with the card. “What?”
Evan held out the card to him. “Invitation to the Summer Games. Who knows, you do well in the fights and they might pick you for the Venator program, since you don’t have much interest in the estate.”
“Hunting mad wolves and half-bloods. Oh, joy.”
“And freedom,” Evan said with a sly smile.
“Would that finally get you off my back about mating?” When the older man said nothing, Roman muttered, “That’s not freedom.
” Tucking the card into his pocket, he headed across the meadow toward the tree line.
His body hummed to shift and run, but that could wait until after he’d checked out Merritt’s new racehorse that had arrived today.
He had to admit his brother had a fine eye when it came to horses, even better than their mother's, and that was saying something.
***
A sentinel wolf stood watch in the distance and lowered its head as Roman passed.
“Evening, Nigel. Let’s hope the rabbits don’t give you too much trouble tonight,” he said with a wry grin, and got a huffing howl back.
More wolves worked the perimeter, ever watchful for rival packs.
Why his people still clung to all these notions of territory, conquest, and the old need to hold ground with fang and fight, he would never understand. When would they get past it?
Dusk settled over the stable yard, deserted at this hour but for a young groom who hurried out to meet him.
“Need a horse saddled?” the young man offered.
Roman shook his head. “Just here to see the new horse. Where is it?”
“Eclipse is in the end stall,” the youth said.
Heading for the stall, Roman plucked a carrot from the nearly empty bucket of treats by the door.
At the stall door he found the prized mare, black and commanding. “Well done, Merritt,” he murmured, offering the carrot through the slats. She whinnied and took it. “I’ll bet you burn up the track.”
He was stroking her ear and cooing to her when his senses flared. He turned and scanned. No one, but he couldn’t shake the sense that someone was close. Keeping it casual, he slid a hand into his jacket pocket and closed his fingers around the cool metal of his flip knife.
“One thing I admire about horses,” he said, barely above a whisper, “is they can smell a vampire a mile off. Me, I don’t need a horse’s nose to know there’s a wolf in my stable who shouldn’t be here.
” He turned his stare on the stacked hay bales a few paces off and braced for whoever was in the shadows.
“Huh. You’re the first to catch my scent.” A young man, tall and lean, unfolded from the hay, brushing straw off his shirt. Light brown hair streaked with blond fell into his eyes as he looked up. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just a place to rest a day or two.”
Roman’s gaze raked over him, the way his muscles moved under the worn shirt, the way his jeans hugged his hips, the defiant glint in his eye. Something in him lit up at the idea of an intruder in his territory. “Is that right?” His voice dropped low and rough.
The man grinned, not the least bit intimidated.
“You’re playing a dangerous game. Sneaking into a pack’s headquarters is the exact opposite of ‘not looking for trouble.’”
The intruder didn’t so much as flinch, and that made no sense. Roman’s senses caught on something familiar in the guy’s scent, almost intoxicating, like wolfsbane, and under it a note he couldn’t place. “What are you doing here? You don’t smell quite...”
“...right?” The intruder finished it for him with a mocking curl of his lip.
“I’ve heard that one before,” he drawled.
“A lot, lately.” Then he took his time looking, a slow drag of his gaze down Roman’s body and back up, mouth, chest, lower, unhurried and unbothered, the kind of look that left heat behind it, before he met Roman’s eyes in open challenge.
“Makes me wonder if the assholes are right.”
“Insolent.” Roman hadn’t expected a thief to look him over like that. “But no, ‘right’ wasn’t the word I was reaching for.” The scent wasn’t quite right in some ways, and hell if it wasn’t perfect in others. “I asked you a question.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know who I am?” Roman demanded.
The intruder narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, considering, his gaze moving over Roman’s face, the cut of his cheekbones, the knit of his brow. “I’m not sure,” he drawled, sultry as velvet on silk. “Should I?”
Mischief danced in the guy’s eyes as he kept teasing.
Had it been Merritt in the stable, the intruder would have been flat on the ground and silent by now.
Instead, the stranger’s casual disregard for his rank sent an odd thrill through Roman.
It made him feel normal, grounded, the way it had been in college, back when nobody hesitated to take him down a peg.
“It’s all fun and games until you’re surrounded by the Leitner pack in their territory.
Now, what are you doing here? I won’t ask again.
” The territory was sacred, and Roman hoped to hell the man had a good reason for being on it.
If he turned out to be an enemy, Roman would have to choose between his duty and doing something really, really stupid.
“It might be headquarters to you. Once, it was a second home to me.” A wistful smile tugged at the stranger’s mouth and slipped away.
“Honestly, if you don’t call the guards, I’ll vanish into the night and you’ll never see me again.
I can find another place to catch my breath, even if the scenery won't be nearly as enticing" His gaze gave another appreciative rover over Roman's form. "You good with that?”
Everything in Roman lurched at the idea of the man walking off into the dark, a flat, bone-deep no he didn’t stop to examine.
He caught the scent again, but this time it hinted of something faintly familiar, like something out of a half-remembered dream.
Closing the distance, he gripped the man’s upper arms, and the warmth of his skin sent a jolt up Roman’s spine.
Deliberately, he inhaled the stranger's aroma deeply as he leaned in, and the scent went straight to his head, sweet and spiced and addictive. As potent as wolfsbane to his kind. Everything else burned away, the pack, the borders, every reason this was a mistake. His whole body pulled tight around a single need. His mouth ached to be on the stranger’s, and he was a breath from taking it.
Eclipse let out a loud whinny, breaking the spell, dragging up old memories. Roman stepped back and let go. “Stable rat? Is that you?” Surprise and disbelief warred in his voice.
***
Lance’s laugh rang out. “Stable rat? Really, Roman? Haven’t heard that in years.
” He dipped his head, not in submission but in respect, for the alpha who had once been his friend.
“Never thought you’d remember a nobody omega like me.
” Something caught in his throat, and he cleared it before he went on.
“And I didn’t want to come begging for favors, or get asked for explanations. ”
“Favors? You mean staying here?” It came out more demand than question.
Even with the space between them, Roman’s scent still wrapped around Lance and fogged his head. He licked his lips, still tasting the almost-kiss. “You’ve filled out nicely, Romy,” he murmured, his voice turning low and husky.
“Romy. How many times did I threaten to knock your head off for that?” Roman snorted and closed the gap again. “It’s really you, Lance.”
Lance just nodded, watching the emotions cross the alpha’s face. “Yeah. It’s really me.”
Roman dragged a hand through his hair, his mouth twisting into something bitter. “We were friends once. You could’ve come to the front gate. Even if you left without saying goodbye.”
The memory of rough hands hauling him out of the only home he’d known was still fresh, all these years later.
“Roman.” Lance cleared his throat again, trying to cover the small tremor in his voice.
“I wasn’t given a choice about how I left, or when.
If I’d had any warning, of course I’d have said goodbye.
As for coming to the front gate, thank you, but that’s back to explanations I’m not inclined to give.
Best if you forget I was here tonight.” He lowered his gaze to the hay-strewn floor.
“Or ever. My problems are mine. You don’t need to get tangled in them. ”
Lance’s breath caught as Roman planted himself square in his path, the heat off his body reaching him even in the cool night air.
“Oh no you don’t,” Roman growled, low enough to stir something unwanted in Lance’s belly. “Not again. Not without a proper goodbye.” His eyes bored into Lance’s. “And an explanation.”
Lance tilted his chin up, defiant, even as his knees went weak. “For what?” he said. “For living in your stables? For not eating with your pack? For disappearing from the first home I ever had?”
Roman’s gaze narrowed, a silent demand.
Lance took a half-step back. “You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can put the pieces together .”