Winter’s Wolf (5 page)

Junior looked scared. “Shit, man, why’s Cole helping the FBI?” His father grabbed his arm.

Freedman gently disengaged Betz’s hand from his son’s bicep. “Why wouldn’t he? What does he have to hide?” The marshal burst out laughing, and Winter joined in. Freedman had a likable way about him that overlaid the power. The two young guys looked really nervous, and Betz just frowned.

Winter gently pulled his arm away from Candy on the pretext of looking for something in his pocket. “So is the FBI done here?”

“No. Partridge doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, which is why I need to keep an eye on him.”

“Partridge?”

“That’s the guy you saw with me and Cole.”

“Ah.”
So his name is Partridge. Something good to eat.
Winter smiled. He glanced across the room crowded with wolves eating and talking. Like a few moments before, Cole Harker stood with a group of wolves, but something new had been added. Now, his shoulder pressed against a male so beautiful he made Winter’s mouth dry. “Uh, who’s that?”

The marshal followed his line of sight. “Oh.” He frowned. “That’s Cole Harker’s, uh, spouse.”

Junior got all singsongy. “His husssband.”

Again, Betz grabbed him hard.

Candy sighed. “Isn’t he dreamy? That’s Paris Marketo.” She looked up at Winter. “Oh. That means he’s like your cousin or something, right?”

“Yes, I guess he is.” He smiled, scanning around the group. “Will you excuse me?”

Candy just said, “Oh.” Mario beamed, Junior ignored him, and Freedman nodded. Betz’s bushy eyebrows met over his long, thin nose. “We’ll be talking with you more after you figure out your position in the pack.”

Winter frowned. “I have no position in the pack, sir. I’m a stranger.”

Freedman laughed. “Fred just means after you get settled and make some friends.”

“I see. Good to meet you all.” He turned and walked across the room. What the fuck kind of politics played out here?

Ahead of him, Cole whispered in the ear of the male called Paris. Winter’s cousin. Weird, after a life of near solitude, to suddenly be surrounded by so many others who had some relationship to him—weird and not particularly pleasant. But both the males standing ahead of him were gay. Shit, talk about mind expanders. He glanced around.

Across the room, Damon was hung with females like a holiday tree. He looked over, seemed to see the direction Winter was headed, and started disengaging the clinging hands.
You should hurry, old man.
Winter sped up his progress toward Cole and his spouse.

Cole smiled as Winter approached. “Hello. So good to see you again. Winter, this is my husband, Paris Marketo-Harker.”

The creature looked up at Winter with eyes that reflected golden light. His midnight hair shimmered, but he reeked of some odd, acrid smell. Winter cocked his head. “You’re a feline.”

Paris smiled. “Not many wolves get it. Yes, I’m a panther shifter. And you’re even more beautiful than my husband said.” He looked up at Cole. “Does he remind you of anyone?”

Damon arrived, trying not to look hurried. Cole cracked a funny little smile, like maybe he got some of what was going on. “Damon, I don’t think you’ve met Paris—your nephew and my husband.”

Damon’s blue eyes flashed to Winter, and he nodded. “Uh, yes, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

They shook hands, and Paris’s golden eyes twinkled with what looked like both appraisal and mischief. “So Uncle, where have you been all my life?”

Damon looked startled. “Sadly, I left right around the time you were born.”

That evil cat grinned. “Why?”

Damon thought for a moment. “I was a pretty major screwup, and my father, your grandfather, was fed up with me. I committed one final indiscretion and was effectively banished.”

“Where did you go in your banishment?”

“Canada, where I continued my profligate ways and ended up with a son. As he’s grown, I realized how much he missed by not being part of the pack. I brought him back. End of story.”

Enough of this square dance.
A few pipers needed to be paid. Winter gazed at Cole. “So, my father has always taught me that there’s no such thing as a gay werewolf. Only humans are gay. And yet here you are.”

Cole glanced at Damon, who looked pretty frigging uncomfortable. Cole’s expression was unreadable. “It’s rare. But, obviously, it happens.”

“Did you know you were gay before you met Paris?”

Paris blinked. “You think I’m so irresistible, I can turn werewolves into screaming homosexuals?”

“Yes.”

Cole snorted and Paris laughed. Cole nodded. “Yes, I knew I was gay before I met Paris. My best friend is also gay.”

“Two gay werewolves?” Winter glanced at Damon, who stared at his shoes.

“My friend is half human, so most werewolves prefer to believe that he’s an anomaly for that reason.”

“Half human? I didn’t know that was possible.”
Is the earth rocking?

“Also rare, but again, it does happen.”

Damon looked up at Cole, his eyes staring.

Winter couldn’t resist grinding it in a little. “But you’re an alphanta, correct? And yet you’re gay.”

“Yes. It was hard for my family and the pack to accept, but my marriage to Paris formed the alliance that eventually saved both the Harker and Marketo packs, so our pack members have been forced to acknowledge it.”

Paris grinned. “And even be a little grateful.” His gaze shifted to Damon. “I’m dying to know about that one last indiscretion that got you kicked out.”

Oh man, that cat’s a troublemaker.

Damon shrugged. “A female, of course.”

The door to the hall opened, and the cool evening air washed in, along with two males.
Holy shit.
Winter closed his mouth slowly. The younger of the two wolves reeked of potential werewolf power. Already well over six feet tall, his lean adolescent body moved with werewolf grace. Even from that distance, the kid’s eyes reflected light, and his shaggy dark hair flopped around his young face. But Winter could barely look at him, because beside him stood the most baffling creature he’d ever seen. Smallish for a were, maybe six one or two, and very slim, the male wore a crisp blue suit that had to be from the cover of some frigging magazine, with a lavender neck scarf and purple—yes, purple—shoes. Most showstopping of all, his hair hung almost to his shoulders in a pale moonlight curtain, nearly as white as Winter’s own, while his high cheekbones and wide eyes could have been a mirror reflection.

Damon hissed. “Who in the hell is that?”

Cole smiled. “My best friend, Lindsey Vanessen, and his adopted brother, Jasper.”

Paris looked up at Damon with a steady gaze. “You mentioned that your final indiscretion here in Connecticut was with a female. Were or human?”

The breath hissed out of Damon’s lips. “Human.”

Cole waved, and the wolf called Lindsey waved back. Winter glanced at Damon and watched his knuckles slowly turning white. The adolescent wolf said something to the older one and then walked off toward a group of other young wolves gathered around playing some kind of video game.

As he got closer, the one called Lindsey looked more and more extraordinary. Every crease perfect, the neck scarf just so. He walked straight to Cole with arms extended. “Hello, darling, so sorry I’m late. I had to get Seth off on a stakeout.” After his hug, he turned to Paris. “How are you, my lovely feline? Kiss-kiss.” He applied lips to both of Paris’s cheeks. The two amazing-looking males stood about the same height. Tall in any collection of humans, but smallish in that room of wolves. Lindsey turned brilliant blue eyes on Damon. “Hello. I’m Lindsey Vanessen.” He extended a graceful hand.

“Uh, I’m Damon Thane, uh, Marketo.”

Lindsey’s expression sobered as they shook hands. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“This is my son, Winter.”

Lindsey offered a hand, and looked up at Winter. You could see the wheels turning in his head. Yeah, just like the ones turning in Winter’s.
What the hell is going on?

Lindsey glanced back and forth between Damon and Winter. “How long have you been gone from Connecticut?”

Damon swallowed noticeably. “Uh, about twenty-six years.”

Lindsey looked at Winter. “Were you born here?”

“No, I’m only twenty. I was born in northern Canada.”

Damon smiled, but it looked forced. “Are you a Marketo, Lindsey?”

“No. A Harker by adoption. I’m half human.” He crossed his arms. “I found the pack after I shifted the first time and was desperate for some information. I met Cole, and we became friends. His family guided me; otherwise I might not have survived.” The tension radiated off Lindsey’s body. Those sure as fuck weren’t pleasant memories.

A muscle in Damon’s jaw twitched, and his Adam’s apple jumped. “I’m sure your human mother must have been terrified coping with a werewolf son.”

Lindsey’s eyes narrowed. “The first thing I learned is that humans can never know us, Mr. Marketo.”

“What?”

Winter’s mouth opened, and he forced out the words. “You mean your mother doesn’t know you’re a werewolf?”

“That’s correct. Nor does my grandfather, who raised me. The only human aware of my nature is my husband, and he’s pack by marriage.”

Sweet crap. “So you shifted the first time—”

“On my own, unaware of what had become of me.”

Winter shook his head. “Shit, man. That’s pure Kafka.”

Lindsey’s smile was tight. “Aptly put.”

This couldn’t be true. Winter glanced at Damon, who was staring at the floor. “How many years have you hidden it?”

“Twelve.”

“Man, no way. So that makes you—?”

“Twenty-six.”

Twenty-six. Twenty-six years.
Winter tried to breathe. Should he laugh, cry, hit something? Everything, everything he’d ever known—who he was, where he came from, his family, the way the world worked—all shifted like sand under his feet. He actually felt dizzy. “Excuse me.” He walked away from the group in the general direction of the door.

“Winter!” His father’s voice called to him.
Who the fuck is my father?

A female came up beside Winter, then another beside her.
Werewolf females. Irresistible.

“Hi. I’m Tammy and this is Sarah. Candy hogged you most of the evening. We want to welcome you.”

His father must have been following, because when Winter looked up, Damon stopped and nodded approvingly at the females.
Bullshit.
Winter nodded at the girls. “Thanks.”
Irresistible.
He took a deep breath. No cock wiggle, no heady wave of desire.

The one called Sarah said, “So, want to get a drink with us?”

Fuck! Irresistible to whom? To his father?
If werewolf females were so damned irresistible, why did his father go around fucking humans?
No such thing as a gay werewolf. Never fuck a human. Gay werewolf.
Cole Harker stared at him from across the room, his hand gripping that of his husband. Beside them, Lindsey, with his pale hair and brilliant blue eyes, looked troubled and confused. Confused about his parentage—but not about his sexuality. That wolf wrote the book on gay.

A slim arm slipped around his. “So come on. We’ll go get a beer or something.”

Too many bodies. Too many buried secrets.
“I’m sorry, but I actually have to be somewhere. We can take a rain check, okay?”

“Awwww.” Tammy pouted prettily—and very fucking resistibly.

He took each girl’s hand and kissed them like something from a Regency romance he’d read once—not in his father’s library. “Thank you.”

Sarah giggled. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”

With a quick glance back at Damon, who was deep in conversation with Landon, Winter walked out of the meeting hall. After all the body heat, the cold night air washed over him like a shower. Raising his head, he sniffed. He could shift, but he’d have no clothes when he shifted back. Probably not dress code at the Way Station.

The door opened behind him. He didn’t turn to look. Nose pointed toward irresistible, he started to run.

T
WENTY
MINUTES
later, Winter slowed to a trot. He could run for hours, but the closer he got to the Way Station, the more he thought about that FBI agent and the harder his cock got. It made running full speed awkward. He adjusted his package and listened to the sounds of his own jogging feet.
Okay, think.
The FBI guy was human, but Winter’d just found out that a werewolf very close to him had been fucking at least one human—and his human was female. Hell, a male had to be less breakable. The human Winter had fucked in Canada never broke. Plus didn’t Lindsey say he was married to a human?
They must make it work somehow.

Keep thinking.
This guy was a fucking Fed. Scary. But, like his father said, Winter was a law-abiding citizen. Sort of. And he didn’t want to marry the guy, just fuck him. How revealing could that be? Hell, he’d had that guy at home up against the wall a half dozen times. The human never pulled out a gun and shouted wolf. Shit, he’d begged for more.