Zeus's Pack 9: Rave (7 page)

The bartender walked away from the customer he had been serving, the lady looking indignantly at the bartender as he made his way over to Logan. “What can I get for you?”

Logan sat there stunned for a moment. He had done it yesterday in Zeus’s office, but to see that it worked on humans as well, wow.

Okay, so he assumed the man was human, but it had worked. “I’ll have an orange juice.” After all, it was only eight in the morning.

The man nodded and brought Logan a tall glass of cold OJ. He felt a hand grip the back of his neck, and then Rave’s face came into view, a disapproving look on his face. “I thought we talked about this?”

“You talked about this,” he said casually enough as he sipped his juice. He noticed a light throb in his head, but nothing compared to yesterday. Maybe Logan was getting stronger, better at controlling minds so it didn’t make him weak and vulnerable afterward.

“Do you think it’s right to make people do what you want, taking away their free will?” The question was spoken low enough for just Logan to hear, but he heard the censure in the guy’s voice. Now Logan felt like crap for mentally making the bartender get his drink.

“I am who I am, Rave. You may try and stop me from being a
styre mente
, but I have this gift for a reason.” Why would he have this ability if he couldn’t use it? He wasn’t trying to do bad things with it.

Hell, Logan wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do with it. But not using it seemed like a waste to him.

“Then we need to figure out a positive way for you to use it. Making someone do your bidding without a choice is wrong.”

“Life isn’t fair. Get over it.” Logan wasn’t usually a douche, but he felt as though Rave was blowing down on him. He hadn’t hurt anyone. Logan didn’t plan to, either. But how was he going to know the extent of his powers if he didn’t try them out, like a test run?

“If you insist on using people as slave labor, we can go back to the house.”

“Or I can just go home.” Logan still wasn’t sure why he was hanging around. His mom’s place was just as safe as Rave’s house was. Aba didn’t know where his mother lived. And since Cal was his only friend, he didn’t have to worry about anyone ratting him out.

“You’re being difficult on purpose,” Rave accused as he took a seat next to Logan. “I’m not your enemy.”

“I don’t know you well enough to agree with that.” Logan could see the frustration in Rave’s brown eyes, but like Logan had stated, he didn’t know Rave. For all he knew, the man could be using him.

Logan didn’t know who to trust. His life had gone from ordinary and monotonous to a fun-filled trip to Disney World where the characters tried to eat people. Maybe not that bad, but it was damn close.

Someone had tried to blow him up—which he was
really
starting to suspect it to be Aba—then he was told he had funky blood, and then Aba tried to whisk him away to the unknown, against his damn will. Now he sat here with a wolf shifter he didn’t even know who was stating that Logan could trust him.

Not likely.

Rave shook his head, as if confused by Logan’s mistrust. “I know you don’t know me too well, but on my honor I would never hurt you.”

“Again, don’t know ya, pal.” Logan drank down the last of the orange juice and sat the empty glass down that had pulp stuck to the inside as he glanced around.

Logan held back the gasp when his vision blurred for a moment, and then images started forming in his head. He glanced at a couple sitting in a booth, looking pleasant enough as they ate. But Logan could see images swimming in front of him of the woman being pregnant and the man cheating on her countless times. The man was paranoid, too, doubting that the child was even his. Logan blinked a few times and then wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. How in the hell did he know that?

He glanced at the woman’s belly, but didn’t see even the smallest bump to prove she was pregnant, but somehow he knew she was.

His gaze swung to the next occupied booth. A man sat there alone, sipping what looked like apple juice, or maybe beer, as he watched something on one of the televisions. The guy wore a deep-blue suit, a matching hat, and had brown patent leather shoes on. The soft-soled kind. Logan’s vision swam again, and he could see the man in the blue suit stealing money from the church offering plate.

It was if he could see everyone’s dark little secrets as he stared around the room. Logan was frightened to look at Rave, afraid of what he would see. As much grief as he was giving the man, Logan really did like the guy. He didn’t have anyone he could really trust aside from Cal, and although he didn’t know Rave, or know his motives, who else did he have to rely on right now? Cal was a good guy, but he was useless in this mess. And to be honest, Logan didn’t know Cal all that well either. Six months was not long enough to know someone like the back of his hand. Although Cal was quiet, and gone half the time, Logan knew he could trust the man.

He wasn’t so sure about Rave.

“Is there something wrong?” Rave asked.

Logan closed his eyes as he bent his head, praying that he didn’t see anything dark or wicked when he looked at Rave. He took a deep and cleansing breath and then glanced to his right, opening his eyes to stare at Rave.

Nothing.

No images, no deep, dark secrets. If the images he had seen with the strangers were correct, then he could see, or not see as it were, any malice coming from Rave.

Big point for Rave.

It made him relax a little. Logan wasn’t too sure he liked this little trick of the eyes. He didn’t want to know everyone’s evil little secrets.

It sucked all the optimistic joy from his world and turned it into a cruel and cold place, where everyone was a thief or a liar, a bad man, an evil villain. It made him
want
to push into those people’s minds and make them do the right thing.

Logan shook his head. “Everything is fine.” He knew that pushing into their minds was unfair, even if it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t take their choices away like that. Good or bad, they had to make the choices, not him.

In that moment, Logan could see how someone like him could abuse the powers he possessed. It was very tempting to make people do the right thing, and that scared the shit out of him.

* * * *

Rave was becoming a little worried about Logan. He looked a little pale, and he was sweating. His eyes kept jumping around the bar, staring at everyone. His wolf wanted to ease the discomfort on Logan’s face, but Rave knew Logan wasn’t being too receptive right now.

He cursed under his breath when he spotted Agent Monroe walk into the door, a large, lumbering man following behind him. This was not a good time. He knew that Monroe and Logan needed to meet, to get to know each other, but with what Logan was going through, and the mistrust he was swimming in, that was going to be a tall order.

The agent locked eyes with him, a small smile tilting his lips as he headed Rave’s way. A soft, playful smile was on his kissable lips as Monroe sat on the other side of Rave. His chestnut-brown eyes sparkled as Monroe laid an arm on the bar. “I was going to call you this morning, Rave.”

Why didn’t he believe that? Maybe because he could smell the lie.

But not only that, Monroe shifted his eyes slightly, telling Rave that he was indeed holding back the truth. “Really?”

“I’ll go find a booth,” Logan said as he began to push from the bar. He could see the tension in Logan’s jaw and the scorn in his eyes.

Jealousy. It wasn’t strong, but it was there.

“Have a seat, Logan,” Rave said. Logan hesitated and then sat back down, his eyes skipping over to Monroe as if he were trying to size the other man up. Rave wanted to groan. Logan looked back at him, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. His features relaxed, as he grabbed a handful of pretzels, acting as if he were ignoring Rave.

“Your boyfriend?” Monroe asked as he glanced over at Logan.

“Not a bad choice, cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Logan grumbled.

“You said it, not me,” Monroe stated.

“Who the hell are you?” Logan asked.

“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” Monroe smiled tightly at Logan.

“Prick.”

“Call me that after I’ve slept with you. It’ll be more fitting.”

“Enough,” Rave growled. He was getting a damn headache, and oddly enough, turned on. Why was the aggression between Logan and Monroe making his wolf horny? Rave shook his head. “Stop taking shots at each other.”

Was it him or could he smell the lust rolling off of Monroe and crashing into…Logan?

“What’s your name?” Monroe asked around Rave.

“Why?” Logan asked suspiciously.

“Just curious.”

“Logan.”

Rave watched as the lust and humor slid from Monroe’s eyes.

They were made of forged steel now, giving a no-nonsense look that was a bit intimidating to even Rave.

“Logan Albinster?”

Logan’s head snapped back, his eyes wide with surprise. Rave watched in slow horror as Monroe pushed from the bar and pulled his gun, aiming it right at Logan’s chest. “Put your hands behind your head, and if you try to use your mind on me, I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

Rave saw from the corner of his eyes as the man who had come into the bar with Monroe pulled his gun as well, aiming it at Rave.

What the fuck had he done? “What are you doing, Monroe?” Rave asked as he slid closer to Logan, blocking the agent from shooting his damn mate, Monroe’s mate, even if the man didn’t know it yet.

Monroe hesitated and then snarled. “Move away from him, Rave, or I swear I’ll put a bullet in you just for pissing me off.”

Rave could see his friend Taz behind the bar, talking quietly into his cell phone. He sure as hell hoped Taz was calling for help, because there was no way Rave was going to hurt Monroe, even though his mate had promised to open his damn chest up.

“Lower your gun, Monroe,” Rave warned as he turned fully toward the agent, his canines unsheathing. “Now.”

Monroe didn’t even blink at Rave’s partial shift. His eyes were looking past Rave, but Rave had a feeling Monroe was watching him as well. “I don’t think so.”

Rave spotted Jesse walking into the tavern, a few deputies behind him. He glanced from Monroe to the lumbering man with a gun pointed at Rave. “What in the hell is going on in here?”

“It’s an FBI matter, Jesse.”

“What the hell did Rave do?” Jesse asked as he stepped closer, slowly, cautiously.

“It’s not Rave. He’s in my fucking way, though. Logan Albinster has a warrant for his arrest.”

“Let me see it,” Jesse said, his gun still holstered. Thank goodness for small favors. Rave would have been pretty pissed if Jesse had pointed his gun at Monroe. Rave may not understand what was going on, but he knew somewhere deep down that Monroe wouldn’t hurt him. He prayed like hell that that was true.

“This doesn’t concern you, Jesse,” Monroe said between clenched teeth.

“The hell it doesn’t if you’re about to shoot one of my citizens.”

“Get out of my way, Rave!” Monroe barked.

“No,” Rave replied steadily, his eyes locked tight with Monroe’s.

“I won’t let you shoot our mate.”

“Our what?” Monroe asked, his gun wavering slightly. There was indecision in his eyes, confusion, as if Rave had spoken another language and he was trying to translate it on the spot.

“Your what?” Logan chirped from behind him.

“Our. Mate,” Rave said clearly enough for Monroe to hear.

Rave saw Jesse clearing out the tavern, making everyone leave.

Not all the customers were shifters. Some were humans, clueless to the paranormal world around them. The only one left who was clueless now was the man that had come into the bar with Monroe.

“Who is the man pointing a gun at me?” Rave asked.

“My partner,” Monroe replied, his gun still point-blank to Rave’s chest. “He’s a very accurate shot. I’d move away from Logan if I were you.”

“If you don’t want him to know about
us
, then make him leave,” Rave warned.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Monroe replied.

“Fine.” Rave moved with preternatural speed, disarming Monroe and pushing Logan away from him at the same time Monroe’s partner shot his gun. The bang echoed in the tavern as the bullet whizzed by Rave’s head, just missing splattering his brains all over the bar. Rave tossed Monroe’s gun to Jesse and then shifted, growling menacingly at Monroe’s partner.

“What in the hell?” the man said as he swallowed loud enough for everyone to hear. “What just happened?”

“Back off, Dorm,” Monroe warned his partner.

Rave could see that Dorm’s gun was still pointed at him in a teacup hold. The man meant business, even if he looked confused and scared as hell.

“Lower your gun,” Jesse said as if he was talking a man down from the ledge. His voice was patient, smooth.

“Not likely,” Dorm said as he gripped the gun harder.

“Lower your weapon, Agent Dorm.”

Rave was surprised to hear Monroe giving the order. He would have bet that Monroe would have told Dorm to shoot his hairy ass.

“You know about this, Tony?” Dorm asked.

About fucking time Rave learned his mate’s first name. He liked it.
Logan and Tony. Nice.
Now if he could manage not to get shot, maybe he could talk to his mates without a gun pointed at his damn head.

“I knew.”

“And you didn’t warn me?” Dorm actually looked hurt. If he didn’t have a gun aimed at Rave, he might have actually felt sorry for the man.

“It’s not something a person runs around advertising, Dorm.”

“But I’m your damn partner.”

“True,” Tony said as he took a step toward Rave, running his hands over Rave’s furry head. Damn if Rave didn’t want to roll around on the floor and have Tony rub his belly.

Dorm’s gun began to slowly descend, ending at his side. “What is going on, Tony?”

Tony sat there looking from Rave to Logan and then back at Rave again. “Could you repeat that? I’m not sure I caught what you said.”

Rave sighed. The tavern was clear of people. Only the three of them sat there at the bar. Dorm had protested leaving, but Jesse had assured him that Tony was safe. He still wouldn’t leave until Tony had told him it was all right.