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They say when you stop looking for love, it starts looking for you. After his dismal upbringing and eventual rejection by his pack, Jon Vargas had long ago stopped trying to find his mate. Ten years and not a flicker of anything even remotely close. But of course, the universe wanted to make sure he couldn’t run away once the fun started. A twenty-one-day white-water rafting trip locked him and the young man on a collision course neither one of them could escape. Even if they wanted to get away, the sheer walls of the Grand Canyon would keep them trapped. Not even Jon’s epic climbing skills couldn’t get him out of this one.
“What’s with you?” Morgan asked, tossing river bags full of gear into the back of one of the three vans.
“Nothing.” Jon did not want to tell any of his packmates that he’d scented a mate.
“Sure seems like something.” Morgan gave him that narrowed-eye perusal that meant he would start zeroing in on everything Jon said and did until he figured out what was going on. As much as Jon loved the man, he hated when Morgan got into private-eye mode, mainly because he always figured things out. Always.
Thinking quickly, Jon said, “I think maybe I should sit this one out.”
Morgan tossed back his head and laughed so hard and loud everyone in the parking lot glanced over. Once he recovered himself, he said, “You couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re our guide.”
“You’ll be fine.” Jon eyed the bags, hoping he might find his within grabbing distance. No such luck. “There’s only one way to go.”
“Smart ass.” Morgan clapped Jon’s back. “You’re the only one who can get us through Lava Falls.”
“There’s a sweet recovery zone right below that rapid if you happen to fuck it up, which I know you won’t.” Six of the twelve packmates could easily qualify to be full-time river guides. “White-water navigation isn’t even my top skill.”
Ignoring the last point, Morgan tossed more bags into the van. “We aren’t going to fuck up because you’re going to be there guiding us.” He stopped working and gave Jon his full attention. “Just like you promised you would when we came up with this vacation plan.”
Once a year, the whole pack picked an adventure and went on what was supposed to be a bonding experience. Someone—for the life of him Jon couldn’t remember who—suggested that if they sold just three seats at five grand a piece, they could cover the entire cost of the trip. Had Jon been willing to shell out twelve-hundred and fifty bucks, he could have avoided this mess, but the lure of a free vacation had been too powerful. Had he known what it would really cost him...
“Besides, you’re the designated trip leader.” Morgan tapped the clipboard clutched in Jon’s hand. “Your name is on the permit.”
“Right.” Jon darted a glance toward the stunning young man with the tightest ass he’d ever seen.
“Oh, fuck me.” Morgan stepped close enough for Jon to smell his cologne. He should probably enjoy that scent now because after a few days on the water, everyone would smell like river muck. “Do you know him?”
“What gave you that idea?” Jon scoffed. “I was just looking around.”
“You—oh, fuck me,” Morgan said the words louder this time, drawing the attention of half the pack.
“Would you stop saying that?” Jon snarled the question as quietly as he could.
“I wouldn’t have to say it if people would stop doing it.” Morgan planted his hands on his hips then darted his incisive gaze between Jon and the young man.
To distract him, Jon said, “When you say that, it doesn’t sound like an accusation. It sounds more like an invitation.”
“Don’t try to distract me.”
Jon wished he had one of those air-raid in a can things. Whenever he wanted to distract Morgan, he could just press the button.
“I’m getting the feeling you either know that guy”—Morgan lowered his voice so the guy in question couldn’t possibly hear him—“or you really want to know him, as in he’s your—”
“Don’t say it,” Jon warned.
“Like speaking the word could make it come true?”
“It might.”
“Mate.” Morgan smirked.
“Asshole.”
“Coward.”
“Like you’re one to talk?” Jon made a point of checking out the parking lot. “I don’t see your mate around here anywhere.”
“You know how it works.” With the bags loaded, Morgan tossed life jackets on top. “We can’t get one until you get one.”
“Dominoes.” Jon had never understood why pack dynamics worked that way, they just did.
“When the big dog falls—pardon me. Big wolf.” Morgan grinned. “When the big wolf falls, so too will the rest of us.”
“That’s why I think it would be best if I bailed now.”
“You’ve already seen and smelled him.” Morgan kept on tossing life vests into the back of the van. “You couldn’t go even if you wanted to.”
Jon hated him for being right.
“Since you’ve got no choice, just relax and enjoy falling.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Not really.” Morgan tossed in the last jacket, closed up the back of the van, and then faced Jon. “Means that mine is coming at me a lot sooner than I anticipated.”
“Meaning?”
“I thought joining your pack was a safe bet.”
“Wait.” Jon lifted his hand. “Are you telling me you only joined up because you didn’t want to find a mate?”
“Why else would I join?” Morgan tossed his long hair over his shoulder then settled his hat on his head.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you like having adventures with like-minded shifters?”
“I was having those all on my own, thank you very much.”
“Then why bother?”
“It’s nice to have a pack.” Morgan’s gaze moved over the parking lot. “Other guys who know what it’s like to be a wolf-shifter in the human world. I just made a mistake is all.”
“A mistake?”
“I thought, well, you said you hadn’t found a mate after a string of years, so I thought maybe...”
“There wouldn’t be any mates for any of us, and we could just keep banging hot humans?”
“Something like that.” Morgan sighed. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You know I love you guys. I just have to change my plans now is all.”
“Poor you.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean—”
Jon strode away before Morgan could finish. He didn’t blame him for thinking what he had. Hell, most of the guys in the pack had probably thought the same thing. Now that the big wolf was falling, the rest of them didn’t stand a chance. Bound by blood and subjected to the same pack dynamics as any other wolf pack, they couldn’t change fate.
Or if they could, Jon certainly hadn’t heard of a way to do it. And with a twenty-one-day white-water rafting trip ahead of him, he wasn’t going to have time to try to find a way to change his fate now.
His gaze returned to the young man. Tall, but not too tall, slender but not scrawny, he had a tight body with just the right amount of muscle. Strong enough to throw down good and hard without getting hurt.
Fucking hell. Jon abruptly turned away and adjusted himself as inconspicuously as he could. The last thing he needed right now was a big boner in his britches. That would make things so much worse. If only he could figure out a way to mentally make himself go soft. Unfortunately, just like human males, Jon had absolutely no control over his cock. None at all. If ever he got three wishes from a genie, dick control would certainly be one of them.
“We about ready?” Stone asked, a dozen wooden oars balanced over his mighty shoulder.
Jon dropped his attention to the clipboard in his hand. After scanning the list, and checking off the items Morgan had completed, he nodded. “We’re real close.”
“Right on time.” Stone put the oars in another van, this one stuffed with coolers and rigging equipment.
When Jon scanned the area for Morgan, he found him leaning close to Hennessey. Both of them flashed him big smiles and double thumbs up. Jon glared and turned away. He should have told Morgan to keep his damn mouth shut. It wouldn’t have done any good—only a steel gag could accomplish that—but he might have slowed down the truth getting out.
Jon could have said something directly to Morgan using mind-to-mind communication, but his thoughts always came out in a jumbled mess when got stressed. Blathering a bunch of incoherent garbage at Morgan or anyone else would only confirm his discombobulation and make teasing him more fun—for them.
By the time they finished loading the last of the gear, every single one of Jon’s packmates knew.
“Fenrir save me.” Jon didn’t know if tossing up a prayer to the Norse wolf god would help him, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.
“His name is Channing.”
“What?” Jon turned to find Alistair hurrying away to ride shotgun with Morgan in one of the gear-stuffed vans. The two men would have hours to speculate. The only upside was that Jon wouldn’t have to listen to them. The downside was that he would be driving the passenger van, the one that would have Channing in it.
Channing. Even the name fit him. Classy but down to earth. Interesting without being pretentious.
Jon tossed up another prayer to Fenrir, this one pleading that Channing sat in the very back of the van so he wouldn’t be able to see him or smell him. But he already knew that wouldn’t work. He’d probably be able to smell him through a damn concrete wall. Even now with Channing dozens of yards away, Jon could smell him. When he breathed through his mouth, he could practically taste him. And he tasted even better than he smelled.
“Want me to drive?” Lazlo asked.
“I can drive,” Jon snarled back.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” Lazlo kept his voice even, in keeping with his low-key personality. “I asked if you wanted me to drive.”
“So I can sit with my mate?”
“If you want.”
“Maybe I should ride on top with the sleeping bags.” Jon thought that might be the only way to keep the scent of his mate from driving him crazy.
“Even if that wasn’t totally illegal, I wouldn’t recommend it.” Lazlo offered a slight smile. “Too windy.”
“Dogs like to hang their heads out of car windows.”
“Dogs do.” Lazlo nodded. “But you, my friend, aren’t a dog.”
“There are days I wish I was.”
“What can I do to help?”
Instead of saying something snarky, Jon took a deep breath then slowly let it out. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sadly, yes.” No one and nothing could stop the inevitable. Jon could accept the change, or he could drag his feet. Acceptance seemed like too much of a cop out but dragging his feet wouldn’t do anything other than drive him crazier.
“You know, it’s not going to be any fun for him either,” Lazlo pointed out.
Feeling like an ass for not even once thinking about how this would affect Channing, Jon shoved his hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts and hung his head.
“If you want time to think, you could take my spot in the other equipment van, and I’ll drive the passengers.”
“And deprive the pack of having fun at my expense?” Jon lifted his head, determined to face things even if that meant suffering the teasing of his packmates.
“I don’t think that’s what they’re going to do.”
“You always see the best in everyone, don’t you?”
“They usually prove me right.”
Jon considered the shifters milling around the passenger van. Good men, every last one of them. All of them had come into the pack with their rough pasts, their current fears, their amazing skills. They’d lived and worked together for years. Every last one of them had, at one time or another, laid down his life for rest. Nothing could shatter their bond, nothing but the influx of mates.
“Mates are going to change everything.” Jon voiced his greatest fear to the one man he knew would keep his secret.
“Such is life.” Lazlo nodded, his expression sage. “Everything always changes, eventually.”
“But I’m not ready.” Jon hated being unprepared.
“Who in this wild world ever is?”
“You’re not helping.”
“Sorry. At least I’m trying to.” Lazlo slung his arm around Jon’s shoulders. “You know, you might try thinking about this in a different way.”
“What way?”
“Why are you assuming that the change will be bad?”
“When is a major change ever good?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about when the allies took back Germany from Hitler?”
“That’s not a fair comparison.”
“You asked when a major change—”
“I know what I asked.” Jon also knew that arguing doom and gloom was a waste of time with an excessively positive person like Lazlo. “Most of our packmates are going to be angry that things are changing.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Morgan already made it clear he only joined the pack to avoid having a mate.”
“Morgan said that?” Lazlo’s forehead wrinkled up.
“He did, not even ten minutes ago.”
“Huh. That’s not what he said—never mind.”
Before Lazlo could walk away, Jon grasped his arm and asked, “Are you telling me that Morgan told you something different?”
“I’m not getting between you and Morgan.” Lazlo lifted his hands and then pushed them apart as if physically making room between himself and his two packmates. “My point is that things change. Whether you think the change is good or bad can literally dictate how that change impacts you.”
“Wait, you’re saying that if I...” Jon trailed off, trying to find the right words. “If I embrace the change, the outcome will be better?”
“Do you thinking fighting the change will make it better?”
“You know, I really hate it when you answer a question with a question.”
“I’m a classically trained psychiatrist.” Lazlo shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
“You’re also a highly trained marksman,” Jon said. “The combination of which makes you very dangerous.”
“Not to you, it doesn’t.” Lazlo rarely spoke about his past, but anything he had said stayed in Jon’s vault. “You’re my pack leader.” Lazlo clapped a hand to Jon’s shoulder. “I’d lay down my life for you.”
“If only you could take my mate for me.”
“Were that possible, you would not like me to do so.” Casually, Lazlo turned toward Channing. Jon felt his hackles rise. “You see?” Lazlo caught Jon’s gaze. “You don’t even want me to look at him.”
“You’ve made your point.”
“Yes,” Lazlo said. “I shall leave you to wallowing in your misery.”
Regardless of what Lazlo said, Jon didn’t think changing his attitude about getting a mate would change a damn thing. If he had that kind of control over the universe, his life would be completely different.
His gaze went again to Channing. Only this time, the young man stared back. With their gazes locked, Jon felt energy flowing between them. When Channing dropped his gaze to the ground, Jon couldn’t help but smile. He did so enjoy submissive men. Maybe having a mate wouldn’t be all bad. Sure, he’d have to give up his wild nights in tawdry bars with slutty humans, but he’d gain a steady bed partner who would eagerly live to serve his every desire. And Jon had a hell of a lot of desires.
From what he’d heard, new mates went wild with lust. They could hardly get enough of one another. Claiming Channing out in nature would also be a good thing. They could hike away from the group and be as loud as they wanted. They even had a full moon on this trip.
Maybe Lazlo was right. Fighting would only exhaust them both. Better to surrender now and learn to enjoy having a submissive little mate who would cook and clean for him while he went off on adventures.