Chapter Nineteen

EVERTON BUSIED HIMSELF around the house. The boys had made sure to leave him with a lengthy list of chores. But if he kept busy, he found the tasks freed his mind to contemplate his current predicament.

And he needed to think. At least Cam had been tucked out of harm’s way, for now, and his absence gave Everton a clearer headspace in which to think. Relocating the furry fae to his friend’s place had been a solid decision by Franco. Kudos to him.

As much as Ev didn’t want a confrontation with another alpha, after seeing Addas’s den there wasn’t much doubt he’d be dealing with an unwanted caller. Cam had to be far away from the packhouse. The fae wouldn’t stand a chance against a bloodlust-crazed werewolf. The full moon was in two days, too close for comfort.

Werewolves had to master the wolf within before being able to call upon the beast beyond the cycle of the moon. Ev figured he had a couple more days before all hell would break loose.

Had Addas learned how to shift outside of the full moon? Hard to say. Some wolves come upon the skill easily. Others never learn. Safety first, right?

So, with Cam’s wellbeing in mind, dumping him at his best friend’s house was the smart and secure thing to do. But now Everton had Cam on the brain. He was disappointed in himself for letting Cam enchant him with that sexy fae body of his. Those horns, and wings, and fur. Oh man, the fur. Everton had been extremely careful to rein in his desires all summer and all that went out the window with one visit to his bedroom. As much as his recent naked tumble with Cam had embarrassed Serge, Ev had thanked the Gods above the young pup had barged in and interrupted the one thing Everton had sworn he wasn’t going to do.

If Everton dwelled on the ridges of Cam’s horns, or the way his wings fluttered every time he stroked the bristles that lined them, he would abandon any control he had and give in to Cam’s pattern of one-night stands. And as glorious as sex with Cam promised to be, he wanted so much more than a single night of splendour.

Everton needed to focus. Ensuring the shed got prepped and ready for Serge had to take priority, not Cam’s round butt and silky tail.

If Addas didn’t show up, Everton would finally get the opportunity to teach the fledgling werewolf how to gain control and not succumb to the bloodlust. Thankfully, Franco had been responsible enough to get Serge chained each month to prevent him from heading toward a lifelong mental health battle.

Everton had put down more than one werewolf who had lost themselves to the blood rage. He didn’t want to have to kill Serge. The young man still had a long life ahead of him if he learned control.

At least this time Ev would be around to guide Serge’s inner wolf to lean into the change, accepting the beast inside. Making a pact with the hellhound residing under the skin would save him from the hurt and mental anguish. Dancing with the devil always led to a disastrous end, but sometimes taking on the demon you know is safer than any other option. Fighting the change enraged the wolf and would initiate a toxic relationship between the human side and the feral beast. By cementing a tenet of peace, a werewolf’s chances at a life without the constant rage was possible. Hopefully, the extended period the pup had endured without the coaching hadn’t done any damage to the wolf’s psyche.

A year and a half of chained captivity. Ev shook his head, disgusted in himself for letting Serge suffer.

Everton shouldn’t have gone to the Ancestral Lands.

It had been a poorly made decision to watch over Cam.

A summer he continually thought about.

“Dammit, focus,” Ev mumbled.

“You know—” Franco grabbed the plank of wood roughly nailed to the wall that acted as a railing. The stairs were rough and uneven, and steep. As Franco descended and ended up on the stable, flat dirt floor of the root cellar, he continued, “You could just tell him how you feel.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ev, how long have we known each other? At least the fifty years you’ve been leading this pack? You think I can’t tell when my alpha has gone moon-eyed over someone, or something? And let’s face it, he’s completely your type. You like them small, cocky, and attitudinal. The horns too. I don’t know what it is with you and horns.”

“Gives me something to hold on to.”

“You kinky mother—”

“Shut up. And I don’t really want to talk about this.” Ev’s gaze darted in Franco’s direction, then shifted away in embarrassment.

“Why not talk about it? You’re clearly struggling.”

“I have other things to think about right now. There’s a raging new alpha in town, and it’s part werewolf, part witch, and somehow fae too. I’m concerned—especially after the violent and bloody scene I stumbled into earlier—who the hell knows what to expect with some mutant beast on our hands?

“And then there’s Serge. The kid has been cuffed and collared for a year. The imprisonment isn’t fair to him. I need to get him broken this cycle. We can’t keep locking him up.”

“All it takes is one shift with you. You’re brilliant at guiding people through it. You taught me in one cycle. Serge will take to it, don’t worry. And he understands. When he’s calm and sits still long enough, we’ve had some great conversations about pack, learning control, getting the best out of life despite the beast inside. He’s a good kid. Give him some credit.”

“I hope so. The alternate isn’t appealing.”

“You won’t have to put him down. He’ll learn.”

“I can’t kill another kid again. I won’t do that to Serge. I’ve pulled the trigger on too many others.”

Franco put a mitt-sized paw on Ev’s shoulders. “I know. We’ll get him through this. But you’ll have more success when you can focus all your attention on Serge, and right now you’re being divided between Cam and Serge. You need to deal with Cam. I don’t understand what the problem is. Grab his horns and get it done. Get him out of your system.”

“That’s the problem, Franco.” Everton’s gaze dropped toward the roughly hewn floor. “I don’t think I want him gone from my system. Not this time. He’s different.” Everton turned around to face his second in command, his cheeks hot and flushed. “I like the little bugger. I want him around. He makes the wolf feel relaxed, and I smile when he’s being goofy. I don’t get to feel calm and peaceful being your alpha. There are too many responsibilities. Cam is freeing. He enjoys the moment and forces me to do the same.” Ev frowned and clenched his teeth. “But he’s not werewolf. I can’t be there to keep him safe all the time. He’s fae, and they are…well…small and fragile. Our lives are violent and deadly. Besides, I doubt he wants to keep me around. He likes to play the field. He has more notches in his bedpost than I ever will, and I’ve lived three times longer than him.”

“Four times. You are old. And you also worry far too much. Have you told him how you feel?”

“Gods, no. Why would I want to subject myself to his rejection? Or humiliation? His tongue is sharp enough to deliver some staggering blows.”

Franco gave Everton a dirty look. “What is wrong with you? You want him around, but refuse to tell him how you feel, so you push him away; meanwhile, he’s chasing after you. You’re damaged.”

“We all are. We’re werewolves.”

“Yeah, okay. Look, you are not doing anyone any favours trying to suppress this. You’re miserable right now, and you need to be 100 percent in control for Serge. So, I think you need to go over to Cam’s friend’s place and have the conversation. You need to figure this out. I can’t be alpha. I don’t have the pheromones. That’s all on you, buddy. Go wolf-up and do the right thing. Mmm-kay?”

Everton glared at Franco, his wolfen eyes shining through.

“Stop that. You know I’m right.”

Everton gave up on the staring, rolled his head, and shook it, trying to loosen the sticky cobwebs of uncomfortable feelings.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I’m always right. And I like Cam. He’s a good guy. I wouldn’t tell you to go lay your heart bare if I thought for a second being truthful with Cam would get you hurt. Tell him. It’s the right thing to do. I would never set you up for failure.”

“What did Cam tell you? You two were together for too long.”

“Cam told me what I need to know. Now you need to go find out for yourself.”

 

CAM DRAGGED DEV over to the couch, hoisted him onto it, then propped his feet up and shoved a few pillows under them. He positioned Dev’s head so he’d be comfortable. Then he took his arms and laid them across his chest. Cam stood back and studied him.

The position he had put Dev into resembled a corpse in a coffin.

The arms made it weird. Cam moved them to Dev’s side.

After further inspection, and an up-close listen to make sure Dev was still breathing, he resigned himself to waiting until Dev woke up.

After several minutes of tapping his foot and staring at Dev, expecting his eyes to spring open, Cam grunted in disapproval. He needed to get Dev to come around. But slapping him was out of the question, and gentle shaking had produced no results. The goose-egg on the side of Dev’s head would be there for a couple of days. Cam poked at the bump and grimaced as the fleshy swelling gave slightly under his finger. Cam left his buddy’s side, went to the freezer, and grabbed a frozen bag of peas. When he returned to his passed-out witchy friend he laid the chilled veggies over the bump, hoping to reduce the inflammation. If the bulge didn’t subside, Cam would bear the brunt of Dev’s boyfriend’s anger. And Tully’s bearish size gave Cam pause.

Dev’s head lolled to one side as he mumbled something.

“Oh, thank Gods, you’re alive.” Cam leaned in close to Dev.

Dev’s eyelids fluttered as he mumbled some indecipherable words, then drool slipped past his lips and ran down the side of his cheek.

“Nasty.” Cam scowled. His wings sputtered. “Shit, what the hell am I going to do with you?” He pressed the bag of peas firmly onto Dev’s head.

Dev’s phone rang.

The ringtone’s muffled warble continued, which meant…

Leaning in close and putting the side of his head near Dev’s crotch, Cam scrunched his face up. He had located the phone.

“Great. I have to go pocket diving on my best friend.” Cam glared up at Dev. “You’d better be wearing underwear.”

Reaching into Dev’s jeans, he discovered with delight the pants were stretchy denim, worn for a comfortable and relaxed fit, which also meant the flexible fabric made pulling the cell out a breeze. Bonus, Cam didn’t have to touch anything that didn’t require touching.

The phone continued to ring. Looking at the caller ID, the name “Byron Radcliffe” displayed in glowing digital green letters. The asshole witch who had held Cam hostage and tortured him with steel needles poked into his spinal column. Anger swelled in Cam. This was one call he’d answer on behalf of Dev and unleash all the fury of the fae.

He swiped the Accept button, then held the phone up to his pointy and furred ear.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s your favourite fairy, asshole. I repeat, what the fuck do you want?”

“Put Dev on the phone. I have important things he needs to know.”

“I’m sure you do. Unfortunately, Dev can’t come to the phone right now. Would you care to leave a message?” The evil intent Cam laced into every word dripped from his tongue.

“Put him on the Gods-damned phone.”

“Look, you freak, do you seriously think Dev would let me answer his phone if he was available? Or maybe your dumbass name displayed on his phone, and he wanted nothing to do with you. Either way, stuff it, ya bitch. You’re stuck dealing with me, and if left up to me, and we were in the same room, I’d be elbow-deep in your guts. So, your choices right now are tell me what you think is so important for Dev, or fuck off. I’d prefer the latter.”

Silence echoed on the phone for a heartbeat.

“Well? What’s your fucking message? Maybe I might tell Dev. Maybe I won’t. You’re not my favourite person in the world so I don’t feel like being particularly reliable for you.”

“Well, Cam, you can tell your best buddy if he ever wants to see Tully and Sparks again he’ll want to come down to the coven house.”

“What the fuck? Like I’m going to believe you could hold those two strapping young men? And since when did they let your old, scrawny ass out of the hospital?”

“I got out today and interrupted these two strapping young men, as you put it, trying to steal from me. I don’t have to be young and buff, Cam. I have mastery over many spells and lots of objects I can use to keep someone under my thumb. You should know. I kept you long enough.”

“You’re such a…if I ever cross paths with you, I swear, I will go all fae on you.”

“Sure. Like you did the last time?”

“Your healing spell to cure Addas went sideways, didn’t it? There’s some theories on how that happened.”

“Hmph. Yes, well, you didn’t have the ability to control much of your inherent fae talents, so I seriously doubt you had anything to do with how the evening played out. Rest assured, I’m here at my house, and I caught Tully and Sparks robbing me, so I have them all wrapped up. If Dev wants his boyfriends in one piece, he’d better come see me. Make sure you tell him soon, Cam. The longer I have them contained the less likely they are to come back normal. Soul traps are ugly contraptions. They make people go a little loopy in the head.”

A click indicated Byron had ended the call.

“Shit. I hate that motherfucker.” Cam glanced at Dev.

He was still out cold. Cam snapped his fingers a couple of times in Dev’s face.

Nothing.

“Ugh. What the hell am I going to do—” Then Cam recalled holding Everton on the cold dungeon floor, his guts spilling out of the gash Byron Radcliffe had sawed open.

The fae have several magical abilities. Invisibility, illusions, agility, chance distortion, and healing. Of course, being Eldritch and of Royal position allotted Cam more abilities than most other fae, but if he conjured up the healing spell, he’d fix the bump on Dev’s head and wake him up.

Everton had sworn he’d been healed by Cam that fateful night in the witches’ dungeon. Surely Cam could find the trigger to summon the fae mojo and heal his buddy.

Cam pitched the phone onto the coffee table and looked up too fast. The room spun for a second, and he had to steady himself.

“What the hell.” He gripped the edge of the table. “I gotta quit drinking so much coffee.”

Cam closed his eyes, hoping the sensation would subside. No such luck.

The spinning increased, pitching Cam off balance. Bracing himself by gripping the edge of the coffee table and the arm of the couch, he steadied himself until his vision stopped rolling and the world came to a stop.

Cam sat down on the end of the sofa next to Dev’s feet and contemplated what had happened the last night he’d spent in the coven house, and how Everton ended up magically healed.