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“What’s that?” Wesley asked distractedly.
Jobe rocked against Wesley’s belly, unable to stop himself from seeking friction for his erection. “Rumor has it, once our mates accept us, they choose our scent.”
“How do they do that?”
Jobe shrugged. “It’s got to be subconscious because nobody knows how it happens, but from what I’ve been told, we always smell like whatever our mate loves most. Always.”
“Sounds like a chicken and an egg thing.”
“Could be. Either way, I didn’t put oranges or cinnamon or anything else in that smoker.” Which meant Wesley was smelling him, not the food, and the only way Jobe could have a scent was if Wesley had accepted their mating.
“I love the scent of that tea,” Wesley said, his eyes locked with Jobe’s.
“I know.”
Burying his nose against Jobe’s throat, Wesley inhaled deeply. “It smells even better coming from you.” He rucked Jobe’s shirt up and lapped at his chest. “I want to take your clothes off and smell you all over.”
“Go ahead,” Jobe said breathlessly. “I’m yours.”
Wesley pulled his head back and met Jobe’s gaze. “Even if fate hadn’t put us together, even if this had just been a business deal, even if Red River had picked me at random because of a made up custom”—he breathed in deeply—“I’d still stay here and I’d still want to live as your mate.”
It was exactly what Jobe had yearned for as a young man and hearing it articulated warmed his heart and his soul. He savored the moment, committing it to memory, brushed his lips over Wesley’s, and then, his voice rough with emotion, said, “I’d choose you too, Wes.”
Chapter 9
When Wesley Stone left everything and everyone he had ever known to travel to an insular pack with strange customs and live as the pretend mate of a stranger, he thought he was facing the biggest challenge of his life. But then he got to Red River and quickly realized he enjoyed learning everything he could about his new pack, he liked the shifters he’d now lead, and the man living by his side had the purest spirit, biggest heart, and strongest core of anyone he had ever known. There was a lot to learn in his new life, sure, but assimilating into Red River had been easy.
Then he faced a new surprise when he learned that he had been skimming the surface of his new world, and if he paid closer attention and looked deeper, he’d see a life he hadn’t imagined. Red River wasn’t a withering, backwoods pack so desperate for an Alpha that they’d accepted one at random and so disconnected from reality that they’d fabricated roles. Red River was a pack rich in history, resources, and affection with a powerful Alpha ready to lead, and they’d asked for him because they knew what he hadn’t—that this pack was always meant to be his home and that their Alpha was his fated mate.
Like the other unexpected developments, Wesley had accepted the new information fairly easily. After all, he had already seen Jobe’s positive impact on the pack and himself, so learning he would be leading with him was a blessing not a curse. And finding out that the even-keeled, spiritually-centered man he had fallen in love with was his mate in every sense of the word, filled him with profound relief and satisfaction. So as Wesley had fallen asleep after a night of conversation and love-making with the man he now truly thought of as his, their nude bodies tangled together in the bed they’d share forever, he felt a sense of peace and belonging so deep he was certain nothing could shake it.
And then his world turned upside down.
“Are you okay?” Jobe asked, his voice husky with sleep.
The tenor of it turned Wesley on even as he clutched the sides of the toilet bowl and emptied what remained in his stomach. It was his third round of vomiting in ten minutes, so there wasn’t much left.
“Oh, honey.”
Now Jobe sounded worried and, disturbingly, that turned Wesley on too. He was too sick to talk but also horny as hell. What was wrong with him?
“Let’s get you in the bath and then I’ll make you something soothing to drink.”
Just the mention of consuming anything had him heaving again. “Can’t eat or drink,” he choked out once he regained the ability to speak. “I’m going to die.”
“It really does hit hard, doesn’t it?” Jobe pushed Wesley’s hair off his forehead and smiled at him softly. “How about we rinse your mouth and then we try that bath?”
Too drained to question or argue, Wesley let Jobe help him to his feet and then he leaned against him as they walked to the sink where Jobe filled a glass and handed it to him.
“You want me to put paste on your toothbrush?”
Wesley groaned.
“Okay, just the water for now,” Jobe said, chuckling.
