Pan was relieved to know Tommy would eventually be fine after he purged the rest of the silver from his system. It wasn’t going to be pretty, though. Stuck in wolf form until all the silver was gone, he lay heavily against Natasha in the back of Viktor’s car, slipping in and out of sleep. He whimpered and twitched in his fevered sleep. Viktor had extra clothes in the cabin, and he dressed before he and Pan got into his car. Jin would wait with Kirk in the rental for the Agency’s arrival. Merlin took to the air in the form of a large, majestic golden eagle and said he would meet up with them later. Jesus Christ, he’d met Merlin. Pan still felt like he’d been struck between his eyes by a hammer. He’d just met the oldest creature in the world. The father of master shifters. The founder of the Agency. He wasn’t a myth or a tall tale. He was real, flesh-and-blood real. There he was, standing in front of Pan, observing everything with a blank expression. Wait till everyone at the Agency heard about this! But even Merlin’s appearance couldn’t lighten the dread that fell over everyone.
No one spoke in the car as Viktor drove them back to his home. Viktor wanted to check on his home before visiting Glory at the hospital. Pan knew Viktor shared his crushing disappointment and anger. But there was also the hope Glory was mistaken. The scroll couldn’t have been taken. Not after all this. And by whom? There were only five knights in the unit and they had defeated them all.
Pan clenched his hands into fists.
Gregor. It must have been Gregor.
He wished they’d made a different decision on how to handle the scroll. Allowing Ivan to stand alone to protect the scroll? Why’d they agree to that? Pan knew hindsight was twenty/twenty but he couldn’t shake the regret. While he logically knew there wasn’t anything he could have done but waste time arguing with a master shifter and her mate, and time had been against them, that didn’t stop the guilt from weighing him down. He hoped to God Ivan had put up a good fight.
Halfway through the drive Glory communicated with Viktor. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel and then images suddenly flashed in Pan’s mind. He gasped and gripped the dashboard. It took him only a moment to understand that Glory was sharing Ivan’s memory of the battle with Viktor, and Viktor, in turn, was sharing it with him.
His suspicions had been right. Gregor was responsible. Pan closed his eyes and like an action sequence on a movie screen, he saw the battle through Ivan’s eyes. He was certainly a tough bastard with sure, confident moves and experience in battle. A remembered stray thought or two of Ivan’s interspersed through the scene, and Pan understood where Gregor got the advantage over a centuries-old shifter. Arcas had somehow developed a potion or serum that muted the presence and scent of the one injected. That made it possible for a knight to sneak up on a shifter. Gregor must have injected himself with it because Ivan didn’t know he was there until it was almost too late. But Ivan never surrendered and Pan realized Gregor’s injuries could have been his downfall even with the potion. Injuries Pan had given him barely a week before. It was only when another knight joined the fray—a young woman—that they finally managed to defeat him. But even after four silver bullets Ivan still retained consciousness. Ivan cursed the knights foully, but Gregor kicked him in the head and that was the last Ivan knew of anything. Except for immense agony.
Pan sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, the echoes of immense pain fading.
“Glory took out bullets,” Viktor said, his voice low and gruff, his accent at its heaviest. “But she had no choice and took him to hospital. She hopes there is shifter doctor there.”
Pan nodded, swallowing hard despite his dry mouth. He texted Jin to inform him of Ivan’s memory and a few key points, especially Arcas’s serum. Jin simply texted back, “Shit.” Pan couldn’t have put it better himself.
Silence reigned as they made it back to the city. But as they approached Viktor’s home, they saw fire trucks lined up on the street. Firefighters still shot water hoses at the house as the structure smoldered. But the fire itself seemed to be doused. They appeared to have saved most of the house. The exterior still looked intact, but the insides would tell if it was salvageable. Pan prayed it was mostly smoke damage.
Viktor stiffened beside him and jerked the car to a stop. It wasn’t a real surprise the knights would have destroyed his home, but Pan was sure he’d hoped they wouldn’t. Natasha’s breath hitched, and she clutched a sleeping Tommy tighter against her.
“Stay in car,” Viktor said as he stepped onto the street.
Pan followed and stood beside him. He glanced at Viktor, and pain stabbed his heart when he saw the sorrow and impotent anger in his eyes. The violation of home wasn’t something one easily recovered from. There were no words he could say to offer comfort, so he didn’t even try. But he did lay a hand on Viktor’s arm and squeezed. Viktor didn’t look at him, but he did cover Pan’s hand with his larger one, and squeezed back.
They quickly learned from the firefighters, after they realized Viktor was the owner of the house, that the fire seemed to have started in his office. It was obviously arson, and it wasn’t long before the police came with their questions and suspicious looks. Pan took over most of the answering, claiming to be Viktor’s partner. It was slow torture pretending to be something he desperately wanted to be. He wanted to be Viktor’s partner for real. But it wasn’t in the cards.
Glory communicated with Viktor telepathically again to say Ivan had second- and third-degree burns on his arms and legs and even with the bullets out, infection had set in, the silver poisoning his blood. He’d been unconscious for hours. There was a hint of good news when they learned there was a shifter doctor—a fox—that took over Ivan’s care. Glory told them to meet her at the hotel room she’d booked after learning Ivan’s condition.
They arrived at the hotel after the police let him go. Tommy and Natasha settled in the bed, both falling deeply asleep, exhaustion weighing them down. Viktor paced with obvious agitation, and Pan sat in a chair, trying not to feel like a failure but far from succeeding.
They didn’t have to wait long before Glory and Merlin stepped into the room. Viktor immediately turned to Glory and hugged her. She gripped him close. They spoke in Russian, and Pan could tell by Viktor’s soothing tone he was trying to comfort her.
Pan wanted to be angry. He wanted to rage and throw something. But he was tired. Bone tired now the adrenaline had left and the pain from the bullets hitting his body were making themselves known. He was going to have some more great bruises. All he could muster up was dread and a sense of impotency. What had they accomplished, really? After all this, after all the pain… what victory could they crow about? Yes, they had Kirk, but one knight or one hundred didn’t get them any closer to capturing Arcas. It didn’t get them any closer to recovering the scrolls. Knights were only minions of Arcas. Only he and Gregor would be worthy prizes.
Pan rubbed a hand over his face before glancing at the clock. It was five in the morning. They’d all been up for almost twenty-four hours. Bristles across his chin scratched his palm. He needed a shave. And his face began to throb again. He must look as shitty as he felt. He finally dropped his face into his hand and left it there. He was an agent, dammit! A good one, too. But not good enough.
He sensed someone crouch in front of him. Pan couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He didn’t deserve to. He wanted to crawl into a hole and bury himself.
A strong but gentle hand encircled his wrist and brought it down away from his face. That same hand caught his chin and gently lifted his face. He started when he realized it was Merlin who stared at him with fathomless eyes. They held such compassion and understanding that Pan felt his eyes burn. He wouldn’t be humiliated further and managed to hold the tears back.
“My child,” Merlin said softly. “Some things are fated to happen.”
“I don’t believe in fate,” Pan said, his voice a croak.
Merlin smiled, and it softened every line of his face. It made him look approachable. “I have always believed in fate despite having always fought against it. But fate wins out in the end. She will always win. You did not fail, Pan.” He glanced at all of them. “None of you failed. You tried, and you fought bravely. No one can ask for more than that. I am proud of you.”
Dammit. He was crying. Pan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Merlin turned his gaze to the others before standing.
“You rescued Tommy and Natasha. You protected the next generation, setting aside your own safety to guarantee theirs.” Merlin stepped back. “You are all my children, and no father could be prouder than I am.”
Pan hastily wiped his eyes, even as he tried to understand Merlin’s words. Pan and his kind were descendants of the fae. They had no relation to shifters. Did they?
“But what do we do now, Father?” Glory said, her voice hollow and rough. Viktor kept his arm around her shoulders. Pan found strength to stand.
“You wait and you observe.”
“For what?”
“For whatever comes next.”
Glory narrowed her eyes. “You know something.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow to regard her. “I know many things, Glory. Though what I don’t know is what scares me.”
Merlin was scared? Perfect.
Merlin looked at Tommy and Natasha, his expression turning pensive. Viktor walked over to Pan, and Pan couldn’t look away.
“You will leave.” It wasn’t a question.
Pan answered anyway. “Yes. I have to. There’s a lot of explaining Jin and I have to do.”
Viktor frowned heavily, and his mouth tightened. Pan got the sense he wanted to say something, wanted to argue, but he remained silent. Pan almost wished he would scream and rage and demand. But it would be pointless. It wouldn’t change what was. Pan was more determined than ever to defeat Arcas and all his followers. He needed to be a part of the Agency to make a significant impact. Without Viktor.
Pan swore he felt his heart snap in half. He looked away to find Merlin staring at them with such intensity his breath caught. A flash of agony showed in Merlin’s eyes before he turned away to look at Glory.
“Do not worry for Ivan. He is strong, and he is mated to a master shifter. He will survive. But he needs you to fully heal him.”
Glory nodded, strength coming back into her eyes and stance.
“I will be in touch,” he said. “Something is coming, and I must prepare.”
“What is coming?” Glory, Pan, and Viktor asked at the same time.
“I only have suspicions.” Merlin gazed at the wall, seeing something none of them could see. “The pattern is forming. Yes, I see it now. I couldn’t before, it was not time. So many years to wait. But what if I’m wrong?”
It would seem Merlin forgot they were there.
“The scrolls. The prison. Arcas.” Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them. “Do I dare to hope?”
“Hope for what?” Viktor asked.
Merlin jerked at the interruption. He lowered his hand and glanced at all of them.
“I will be in touch,” he said again. Then he strode out of the room and was gone. Poof.
It was time for Pan to leave as well. Glory surprised him by giving him a light hug and a kiss on the cheek. Natasha woke up enough to thank him and on impulse he kissed the top of her head. He hoped she and Tommy held onto each other fiercely and never let go. He wished them all the happiness in the world.
Viktor said nothing, and his eyes never left Pan. Pan tried to look anywhere but at him even when he said an awkward goodbye, yet he felt like he was leaving a piece of himself with the Russian hawk shifter.
It took the rest of the day to write up their reports—interspersed with a few naps—and square away the details. Jin returned after Kirk was taken by helicopter to the Agency’s headquarters. They decided to contact Captain Odin directly the next morning. They both needed sleep. But even though Jin dropped instantly into dreamland, Pan tossed and turned, restless. His mind wouldn’t settle despite the exhaustion of his body. He tried to deny the reason, but it was futile. His body was achy, but he wasn’t in pain, the aspirin taking care of most of the discomfort.
He stared at the ceiling for five full minutes before leaping up, dressing, and silently leaving the hotel room. Glory had booked three rooms at the other hotel: one for herself, one for Tommy and Natasha, and another for Viktor. Pan got in the rental car and sped to the hotel. After parking illegally, Pan raced inside, took the elevator, then ran down the hallway to Viktor’s room.
But even as he was about to knock, the door opened. Viktor stood there, looking gruff, tired, and irresistible. Without words, Pan pounced, and Viktor snapped his arms around him. Their mouths connected in a heated, wild kiss that flashed through him like a forest fire. Pan wrapped his arms and legs around Viktor and surrendered himself to the need and the hunger that had steadily swelled inside him since the moment he laid eyes on Viktor again.
Viktor kicked the door shut and stumbled to the bed. Pan wouldn’t allow him to pull away, not even to look where he was going. He needed Viktor’s mouth and his hands on him, all over him. He needed that strong body straining against his. He wanted to live. He wanted to feel. He wanted to forget Arcas and the war and the damned, cursed scrolls.
He greedily wanted Viktor like an addict wanted their next fix.
Viktor threw him on the bed before swiftly disrobing. Pan was just as quick, and when they came back together, it was to the sensation of warm, naked flesh. Viktor pinned him to the bed, and Pan arched, thrilling at the touch and slide of their erections. He wanted Viktor to dominate, to force him. He trusted Viktor to know what he needed and to take what he wanted. He had to—if they spoke, if even one word slipped from either of their lips, reality would crash down and shatter the dream.
They touched and stroked, kissed and bit. Yet despite the passion, they were conscious of each other’s hurts. Pan tangled his fingers in Viktor’s hair, holding his head still as he kissed him again, drowning in his taste, swallowing the sighs and groans of pleasure. Their tongues danced and mated, and soon Viktor gripped his wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of his body. Then he moved his mouth down Pan’s neck, licking and nibbling. Pan’s breath caught, and he only grew harder. Needier. He was in pain, needing release, but he knew once he found that release, he’d have to leave. He didn’t want to leave. So he held on and let Viktor work his body. He swallowed his demands and just felt.
Viktor was rough one moment, gentle the next. Pan had no idea which time would be what. Viktor nipped and sucked one peaked nipple before laving it with his tongue. Pan squirmed and panted, trying to watch Viktor explore his body, but the pleasure often had him squeezing his eyes shut.
Then Viktor released one of his wrists, and Pan gripped the sheet. As Viktor nuzzled Pan’s flat stomach, he claimed Pan’s cock with his hand. Pan gasped and jerked his hips up into Viktor’s grip, thrilled at the familiarity of the touch. Viktor stroked Pan slowly, teasingly, as he tasted every inch of Pan’s skin with his tongue. Pan was rock solid, and he felt his release coming swiftly. But it was too soon! Yet he couldn’t stop it. Especially not when Viktor slipped Pan into his mouth, sucking him, humming in his throat. Pan gripped Viktor’s hair, thrusting his hips up into Viktor’s welcoming mouth.
Even that first time three years ago, they were intense. But now there was more. So much more. There was love. Pan couldn’t deny it.
Love.
As Viktor sucked, he slid his hands along Pan’s legs. Then he slipped under Pan’s ass and kneaded while he pressed his thumbs against his small hole. All the while his suction never faltered. Pan’s breath hitched, stuttered, and he came with a low moan that was echoed by Viktor. Pan collapsed on the bed, struggling for air. Viktor climbed up his body, using his tongue to make a wet trail all the way from Pan’s center to his throat.
Pan opened his eyes and nearly spoke. Viktor placed a finger on Pan’s lips, then kissed him roughly. Pan clung to him with arms and legs even as Viktor rolled them to have Pan on top. Pan rubbed his body impatiently over Viktor’s and grew hard again. Good. He wasn’t done yet. He hungered for more. He also wanted to give as good as he got.
Pan ripped his mouth away, and Viktor groaned in disappointment. But then Pan turned his body so his mouth hovered over Viktor’s impressive cock and his ass was right in front of Viktor’s face. Viktor wasted no time in smacking his ass. Pan shuddered, the sting hardening him further. Then he grabbed Viktor’s cock—a very long and beautiful piece of manhood—and took as much of it into his mouth as possible. He almost got all of it in as the tip hit the back of his throat. It was Viktor’s turn to gasp, to have his breath stutter. Viktor slapped his ass again, and Pan moaned. He fondled Viktor’s balls, kneading and petting. He wanted to devour this man, to consume him. To make them one.
As Pan bobbed his head over Viktor’s tasty cock, he felt cool liquid being poured on his asshole. Eager and willing, he pushed his ass closer to Viktor’s active hands. One finger, then two, then three, and the burn was delightful. He remembered how Viktor’s cock had felt inside him, warm and alive, filling up every empty space, dominant and claiming.
When Pan felt himself readied enough, he let go of Viktor’s rock-hard cock and turned around. Viktor’s eyes were glowing, and his skin rippled. Aroused unbearably by the sight, Pan had to kiss him, to pour every ounce of emotion he could into the kiss. Emotion he couldn’t say or reveal. It would just make it harder for both of them.
Then Pan leaned back and let out a long, low moan as he impaled himself on Viktor’s cock. Viktor gripped his hips, his breath ragged and needy. Pan needed to hold himself still for a moment. He’d wanted to fuck Viktor bareback before, but now he could without fear. It wasn’t his first time barebacking—though he only did such a thing with shifters—but the fact it was Viktor made it all the more potent. He’d also never had anyone as big as Viktor inside him, not before or after they first met. The few women with strap-ons didn’t count. A piece of hardened plastic could never make up for the warm, real cock and the man attached to it.
Without shame or hesitation, Pan began to move. He’d long ago broken past the shame of his childhood trauma. He’d even named himself after the Greek god Pan, the satyr that fucked everything that moved. It was a constant reminder to himself he would always move forward, he would always embrace life and see the beauty in everything around him. He would have sex and intimacy, friendship, and yes, love.
Now he had it all, right here, right now. Pan met Viktor’s eyes, and their gazes held as he worked them both closer to the edge. He bounced hard, slamming Viktor into him. He wasn’t silent as he did. He didn’t even try to contain his sounds of pleasure.
But even as he felt himself reach the edge, Viktor suddenly rolled them and then backed up off the bed to stand. Still inside Pan, he dragged Pan with him so his ass was at the edge of the bed. Then with a fierce and almost insane light in his eyes, Viktor took over.
Pan screamed.
It was brutal and he loved every second of it. Every tinge of pain was washed away by maddening pleasure, and when Pan met Viktor’s eyes again, he knew Viktor felt as he did. Despite the desperation, Viktor managed to make it last until they were both sweating and gasping ragged breaths. Then that pressure and heat filled his mind, and Pan let Viktor in. Pleasure intensified as he felt Viktor’s, and he knew Viktor felt his own. Their need and pleasure mingled and mated, just as their bodies did.
When Pan started to make sounds of protest, thinking he might die from this, Viktor finally shifted his stance and pegged Pan’s prostate. Two thrusts was all Pan needed. Without even a touch to his cock, he came hard. Hard enough he lost consciousness for a moment. Viktor’s orgasm came upon the heels of his own, his seed gushing into him.
When Pan came back down from cloud nine, it was to find Viktor on his knees, resting his head on Pan’s stomach. He chuckled breathlessly. Viktor had detached their minds, and Pan missed the intimacy.
They took a moment, Pan stroking Viktor’s hair and Viktor petting Pan’s side. Then, still wordlessly, they managed to crawl fully onto the bed and collapsed in each other’s arms. Pan kissed Viktor’s chin and snuggled in. Viktor held him fiercely as if he had no intention of letting him go. Pan squeezed his eyes shut as emotion rose up. He focused on breathing and told himself to leave. He should. A clean break was what was needed.
But then Viktor rolled over him, kissed him, and they were hard again, needy again. It kept going like that, all through the night. They didn’t rest. They didn’t pause. They just lived and loved.
Only one word was said. The sun started to rise when Viktor whispered that Russian word into Pan’s ear, “Dorogoy.” Then he fell asleep.
Pan slipped out of his arms, horribly exhausted and sore. His body might have been satisfied and ready to collapse into unconsciousness, but his heart and mind were bleeding. He dressed quickly and somehow managed to quietly sneak out and drive back to his hotel. In a daze he walked into the room he shared with Jin and proceeded into the bathroom. Still in a strange daze, he took a hot shower to clean off all evidence of the lovemaking. He pulled on clean underwear and sweats, then just sat on his bed. In the darkness he sat there. He began to tremble. He closed his eyes as the tears came. It wasn’t just for Viktor that he cried. It was for Natasha and Tommy, their innocence and naiveté taken from them. The tears were for Derek’s wolf pack and those who’d died. They were for Ivan. They were for all the shifters who had died as a result of Arcas’s cold malice. It was for the loss of the scroll and the failure of his mission. Pan fell onto the bed and curled on his side, trying to muffle the sobs in his pillow.
It wasn’t long before he felt the other side of the bed dip. Then a cool, slim body wrapped around him, and Jin held him through his weeping. They didn’t speak because no words could describe what both had witnessed and felt and done through the course of being agents, the senseless loss and bloodshed, the pain of failure, the smugness of success.
Pan gripped Jin’s hand and took some comfort in his understanding. He also trusted Jin’s discretion. By not one word would Jin mention Pan’s connection with Viktor. Pan’s job wasn’t in jeopardy, nor would it ever be with Jin watching his back. But for the first time in his life, he wanted something else, something more, than the cold surety of a mission.