What is it, you may ask?
It’s: “No, Rowan.”
Seriously. That’s it. And it’s been heard more often than it rightly should be since they’ve come home from Florida. And even though the Big Bad and the other Big-Badder are dead and dealt with, it has taken a while for Gideon and Jay to cool their jets.
Okay, so Rowan isn’t that easy to deal with, either. It’s the Wolf’s fault. He’s allgrrrandwoofand peeing on anything that stays still too long so he can mark it as his territory. He’s had to stay more hydrated than ever, and it’s exhausting. But beyond the excess water consumption (and expulsion), it’s so unfair. He’s not the only one being difficult.
Grayson is by far theworst.He’s been pissy and moody like an anime villain. All because The Guild in Nashville isn’t as easygoing as The Guild had been in Florida. Sure, Nashville’s magic community has never been anything but rigid, and something as ancient as Magic and the Were-Human Alliance could not be called flexible. But Grayson has set them all a-titter.
The Magical humans are horrified that a mature,untrainedmagic user who has full access to The Plain, with a soulmate who is Were, is on theloose without a guardian. And the Were Authorities? Well, they wanted him “where they could see him” twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week: under lock and key. They were even more horrified when they couldn’t think of anywhere that was strong enough to hold him. It had been a scary time for Grayson (not Rowan, no. He’d been cool. So cool). But the Were authorities had quickly succumbed when Jay showed them why he was the Pack Alpha of all pack alphas. He’d unleashed pure dominant genius, with Antonio Costas legally backing them up, and Gideon had brought all his very scary Gideon-ness (go, Dad and Mom!) to bear, and finally, the Guild’s committee of thirteen had caved. There had been many qualifiers; many, many,manyqualifiers. Even Ignatius and Nimue had put their reputations on the line to convince them that Grayson had full control of his magic to keep Grayson home where he belonged.
Does he have control over his magic? Assuredly he did not. Of course, no one had volunteered half of what Grayson had done to put Withers in his place, or that there was still a whole plethora of unexplored Talents and Affinities, for that matter. It’s a fine line his talented mate has been walking to make sure he’s not under lock and key, or violating some treaty, or ruining their allies’ reputations with a show of temper.
But is anyone telling Grayson to stop setting shit on fire or making Nix come untouched from across the room? No. No, they are not. Why he gets all the leeway and Rowan only gets a reprimand to get off the leather couch, Rowan cannot understand.
So, of course, to avoid hard conversations about feelings,et cetera et cetera, and to address this blatant inequity, the Wolf has invested all his creative energy into continually pushing Grayson’s buttons. Rowan tries to stop the Wolf because they should just be glad no one is pointing at them, theactualpure magic werewolf.
Who knew that Rowan being a little shit had been purely the Wolf’s doing all this time?
Well, maybe not the whole time, Rowan admits to himself, as Rowan-Wolf lifts his leg and pees on the last corner of the Art House, safely marking the building ashis. Any Were within twenty yards is going to know,and when Grayson gets home from his classes, he will undoubtedly try to make Rowan very,verysorry Rowan-wolf has marked his older enigma’s territory.
If he had hands at that moment, he’d have struggled to choose between rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation or twirling his villainous mustache. Because if there is one thing Rowan enjoys most in this world, it’s fucking his omega. Making Nix moan in pleasure and hearing how he loves Rowan in his deep voice—wait, what was he saying again?
Oh yeah, his second favorite thing would easily be pissing off his alphas. Jay, or Gideon, or even Finn, when the sexy doctor throws his glasses down on his desk, rolls up his shirt sleeves ever soslowwwwwly, andpounceslike a pissed-off tiger–woo–that is good stuff. Good times are had by all.
But his favorite alpha to piss off these days is definitely the stone-faced, red-eyed, clenched-jaw Grayson Pearce with his long black hair swirling in an unseen breeze, his burnt garden scent billowing out around him like an invisible aura of menace. With his fingertips snapping fiery sparks on clawed hands, and those very long fangs piercing his sinfully lush mouth. Add to it the lowly growled, “Rowan.”
Well. Rowan can’t be blamed for his persistent urge to be a shit-disturber. Grayson brings it on his own damn self. It’s still good, even if Grayson ruins it by telling him after that he appreciates the outlet and the challenge.
So yeah, of his current (today, anyway) favorite fuck buddies, Grayson is at The Guild, and Nix is absolutelynotat Sentinel Security. He’snotlearning to fight from Arlo, or learning to pick locks from Matteo, or learning advanced interrogation techniques from Logan. Nope. He tells himself it’sfinefor the twentieth time in the last hour, baring his teeth at the idea of his pregnant omega away from home, surrounded by people-who-are-not-pack.
But Rowan is being apillar.He’s holding uprooves—er…roofs—and other metaphorical shit. He’s being a man he can be proud of, even if he’s doing it covered in fur and on four paws. It feels good, as if maybe he can make good decisions and be responsible.
He’s distracted from the Wolf’s plans—to disregard the technically unspoken rule against breaching the Sentinel headquarters and peeingon Logan’s very nice mahogany desk—when he hears the glass doors to the house slide open and Luca shout his name.
His little beta is all dolled up in a cropped magenta-and-purple sweater with black hearts all over it and a black pleated skirt. He’s got his Doc Martin Audrick 20s laced up to his knees, with little lacy knee socks peeking out the top. The day is abnormally warm for Nashville in February, and Rowan is fresh off his birthday-rut surprise, so he has no problem shifting mid-run and sweeping his cute mate up so fast that Luca squeaks and squawks with glee.
“Ro! Put me down! This look took me ages!”
“But you look delicious. You can’t expect me to resist you like this. It’s not fair.” Rowan licks his cheek and sucks a bit of Luca’s mocha-scented neck up between his teeth. “Besides, it’s you who calledme.”
Luca rubs his nose along Rowan’s ear, biting his earlobe with a low, teasing chuckle. “I did call you because I–eek! Hey!”
The squeaks make Rowan’s Wolf go wild, and add to it that Luca has a juicybareass under his skirt and that he is wearing his biggest plug, well…that’s an invitation, right? Rowan gives the plug another tiny push-pull, just to feel Luca’s hard dick rub on his belly.
He’s thinking about pulling that plug all the way out and sliding his dick all the way in when Luca takes his cheeks in his hands, looks him dead in the eye, and says, “No, Rowan.”
There it is again.
Sighing, Rowan lets his mate’s feet hit the ground. “Yeah, okay. So what did you want me for if it’s not to make you come?” He asks, trying not to look as pathetic as he feels, because as Gideon reminds him (not that he needs it),no means no, and whining about it makes you look like a loser. And gets youLesson SixonHow to Be a Good Alpha, with emphasis on thegoodpart.
Been there early on, and the memory has not faded in the slightest.
“I want you to come to the craft store with me. I have an idea to make a Valentine’s Day surprise. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?” Rowan asks skeptically because arts-and-crafts storesare not at all Rowan’s jam. Besides, hehasa Valentine’s Day surprise on order already. Even if he does meet up with Mama-Frankie and her friends on the second Saturday of the month at her house, where they knit and chat–they call itTalk Shit and Knit.
Come to think of it, he has to finish his dick-sweater collection this weekend. March can be so cold. The TSK ladies had been helpful in that regard, and he needed to buy some pink mohair for Grayson’s. Yes, it’s itchy. Yes, he’s going to pay for that in spades. Yes, they both enjoy it. “They sell yarn at this craft store, cutie?”
