The walk to Lycanis would take him about thirty minutes at his pace. Hopefully it’d be enough time for him to shake off the anger simmering inside of him. Taking the tube would probably cut that by half, but he needed the exercise to calm down. Stomping into a shifter club full of piss and vinegar wouldn’t be the smartest move. Smith might not have any shifters working for him, but that didn’t mean Aaron wanted to attract attention if he could help it.
The cut on his cheek would have to stay in case he ran into anyone from the fight over the next few days—well, he’d have to re-create it after the club. If he went in there cut up, he’d stand out like a sore thumb in a sea of perfect shifters. But he could do something about the pain in his ribs now if he was careful.
Concentrating hard on the pain in his left side, Aaron focused on that spot only, imagined a healing warmth radiating outwards, but not too far. He let himself relax enough for his body to do its thing, and gradually the ache faded to nothing. Aaron let out a sigh of relief. He was used to pain after so many fights, but that didn’t mean he liked it any more now than when he’d first started.
Using his phone, he quickly checked to make sure the cut was still there on his face, satisfied when he noticed the discoloration of a bruise surrounding it. He’d improved a lot with channelling his body’s healing powers.
By the time the front of Lycanis came into view, Aaron was somewhat calmer, if not quite back to his usual self. Most of the shifter bars and clubs were near Covent Garden since it was classed as neutral territory. No single pack could claim the territory, so no permission was needed to come and go. The scents of shifters along this stretch of road, while not familiar like pack, were enough to settle his wolf.
As he got near the entrance, he caught a faint whiff of Harry’s scent, making him smile. Rolling his shoulders, Aaron let go of the tension he’d carried since leaving the underground car park. It was done. No point dwelling on something he couldn’t change.
He let the cut and bruises on his face heal. No one from the fight would see him in the club. No one who didn’t already know what he was, anyway.
With a nod of greeting to the guys on the door, Aaron paid his entrance fee and walked into the club.
At twelve thirty on a Friday night, well, Saturday morning now, the club was packed—a mixture of sweat, alcohol, andwolfmet him as he pulled open the double doors. Closing his eyes for a second, he breathed it all in, banishing the scent of the fight from his lungs. In here he didn’t have to hide what he was; no humans allowed.
Slipping his gloves off, Aaron shoved them in his pocket and headed over to the stairs. Lycanis was a big club—three bars upstairs, two downstairs—full of mated pairs of shifters and those who were open to the idea of bonding. Aaron hadn’t given much thought to the idea of finding a mate, and neither had Harry, as far as he was aware. Plus, he was only twenty-six. Apart from the comfort of being solely among their own kind, one of the main reasons they’d started coming here more was Harry’s interest in a certain bartender.
Aaron spotted his friend as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, back facing him where Harry sat at the far end of the nearest bar. Aaron made his way over and took an empty stool. “Hey.”
Harry swivelled to face him and pushed a full bottle of Peroni closer to him.
“Thanks.” The bottle still had condensation on it; Harry must have only just ordered it. Aaron took a long drink, sighing as he set it back on the bar. He glanced at the tall blonde woman serving drinks down at the other end. “Will not on tonight?”
Instead of answering, Harry grinned and pointed his beer bottle at the door marked STAFF to the right of the bar. Two seconds later, Will Farley came through it, smoothing down the front of his shirt. Aaron appreciated that he was kind of hot, but honestly, with all the trouble his pack had had lately, was it worth it?
Obviously, Harry thought so. His smile widened, if that was possible, his eyes tracking Will as he ducked behind the bar.
Aaron picked at the label on his beer before taking another drink.
“So.” Harry nudged him with his elbow, laughing when Aaron dribbled beer down his T-shirt.
Aaron glared at him. “You knob.” Grabbing a handful of napkins, he wiped at the wet spot, not that it did much good. At least he was wearing black.
With his gaze still fixed on Will as he mixed drinks, Harry leaned closer and whispered. “What did the big bossman want?”
Aaron sighed and had a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying them any particular attention. With the music loud and the place as packed as it was, it wouldn’t be easy for anyone to overhear them, and Aaron didn’t think anyone in there would care, but you never knew. Satisfied no one was listening in, he leant closer to Harry and whispered, “Apparently somefriendsof his lost money on the fight. Charlie was supposed to go down in the second round.” He shrugged and finished off his beer. “Smith gave him his marching orders. He won’t be fighting there again.” Pushing his bottle away, Aaron narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t bet on my fight, did you?”
Harry shook his head. “Course not.”
It was their one rule. No betting on any of Aaron’s fights. It might be overkill, but they didn’t need Smith or anyone else thinking Harry had insider knowledge of how the fight would go, and that seemed like the easiest way. “Good.” When Harry looked away and fidgeted in his seat, it caught Aaron’s attention. “Harry?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What is?”
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I borrowed some money for my last bet.” He mumbled the words, still refusing to face Aaron.
“From Smith’s people?” He always had at least a couple of men stationed around the ring taking bets. They also offered to lend people money—for an extortionate amount of interest.
Harry nodded.
“For fuck’s sake, Harry.”
“I know.” Glancing up at the ceiling, anywhere but at Aaron, Harry blew out a harsh breath. “It was only a hundred quid, and I thought the outcome was pretty much a sure thing—you should have seen who was fighting, and Rob agreed…”
“You lost, I take it?”
