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“That works. See you then, douche.”
Micah rolled his eyes. “Hey,” he yelled into the handset, “grab some kind of dessert.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some ice cream?”
“You’re serious?”
“Ian, just figure it out.” Then he hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes.
Maybe he was wasting his time. August hadn’t walked out on him at lunch, but he’d been tense and distant throughout the meal. Though he’d accepted Micah’s invitation for dinner and a movie, he’d done so grudgingly. As much as he hated to admit it, Ian was probably right. Time didn’t heal all wounds, especially not the kind of wounds Micah had inflicted.
He loved August more than anything. More than the pack and definitely more than himself. When he’d broken his heart and sent him away, it had been to protect him. At twenty-two, he’d been young, naïve, and reckless. He hadn’t understood the world like he did now, and he’d been easily manipulated. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to have another chance, to do it all over again. Only this time, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. He wouldn’t fold under the pressure.
Tell him the truth.Ian’s words floated tauntingly through his head. It sounded simple enough, but he couldn’t do it. He’d hurt the man enough for one lifetime, and he’d condemn himself to an eternity of misery and hellfire before he’d do it again.
A part of him had wanted August to find someone to love him, someone who could give him everything he deserved, all the things Micah couldn’t give him. TheLobosmated for life, though, a union so strong that bonded pairs often died within hours of each other.
He’d hoped that with enough time and distance, those consuming feelings and ingrained instincts would fade. For him, not a day went by when he didn’t think about August, didn’t want him with an intensity akin to pain. Maybe that hadn’t been the case for August, though.
The selfish, possessive part of him felt nauseous at the thought of someone else’s hands roaming August’s body. During lunch, he’d been too much of a coward to press August about his social life, because the mention of a boyfriend would have likely sent him into a dangerous rage. Gods, even thinking about it hypothetically in the safety of his own office had him seeing red.
While every inch of him rebelled at the idea, if Augusthadfound someone to love, Micah wouldn’t stand in his way. Personally, he hadn’t desired someone other than August since the day they’d met nearly twenty years ago, and he knew it was too late for him. If he lived forever, he’d never want another.
Life hadn’t always seemed so bleak, though. There had once been a time when Micah had been sure nothing but death could ever separate him from his true love. Oh, they’d had their problems like any other couple, often times to comical ends. Tapping the end of his pencil against his desk, Micah smiled as he remembered some of their more colorful arguments.
At six-four, over two hundred pounds, and Alpha inherent to a pack of nearly three hundred werewolves, Micah didn’t need a protector. Ever since he could remember, he’d been the biggest, fastest, and strongest among his peers. Hell, only a few of his friends—pack Wardens specifically—had even come close to matching him.
He’d never given much thought about having someone depend on him. Logically, he had understood he’d be Alpha one day, that he’d have an entire pack looking to him for guidance and protection. At the time, Micah had been too self-centered to examine what that truly meant, though.
Then August had swept into his life like a goddamn tsunami, and all of his priorities had shifted. Whatever August wanted or needed, Micah had been determined to give it to him. His own desires no longer mattered, and he’d finally understood what it meant to put someone before himself.
Unfortunately, they were both too proud and strong-willed to fill a supporting role. Each of them wanted to be in charge, to be the hero and save the day. August had always been the more logical, the more levelheaded one. He was smart, rational, and he could certainly fight his own battles.
Micah just didn’t know if he could let him.
Given his way, he’d raze Meredith’s house to the ground without apology to get the answers he wanted. Shit, he’d set fire to the entire city if that was what it took to keep August safe.
The corded phone trilled once again, its metallic ring echoing through the shop office. Growling under his breath, Micah snatched the receiver from its cradle and pressed it to his ear.
“Ian, look, I don’t give a shit what you pick up. Just make it happen, okay?” The silence stretched on for several seconds, testing what little patience he still possessed. “Well?”
“Uh, it’s me,” August answered, and he sounded amused by Micah’s outburst. “I tried calling your cell phone, but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh, hey, Ant.” Micah shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “What’s up?”
“I was going to ask if I should bring anything, but never mind. I’ll just ‘make it happen,’ right?”
“You’re hilarious.” His chiding lacked heat, though, and he grinned at August’s laughter. “That’s not why you called, though, is it?”
“No, not really.” He didn’t continue right away, but his feet padded across the carpeted floor, the sound easily distinguishable over the line. “I talked to Meredith. She doesn’t know anything about the devil’s ivy.”
Micah wished he could take the redhead’s word. Hell, he wanted more than anything to trust August, but his old flame had a blind spot when it came to his best friend.
“You could have told me this when you came over.”
“I know, but—”
