Page 7

“ B ack off,” Harlow hissed, glaring at the werewolf, who had about an inch on him.

There was so much noise in the fucking building, just too many things going on, and too many smells. It was all starting to grate on his nerves. So much so, getting into a fight seemed like a great distraction.

It had been two months since his change, and Harlow’s senses may have, for the most part, settled and pulled back to manageable levels, but chaos seemed to throw that natural control out the fucking window. The walls he’d built crumbled easily in such an environment.

Charity dying, followed by Foxx breaking down, had allowed him to ignore it for longer than he would have if they hadn’t happened, but he couldn’t really be happy about that. And that unwanted distraction was gone at the moment, so…back to hypersensitivity, and trying to not fucking flinch and lose it from all the sounds and movement going on around him.

The werewolf sneered, his rumbling ramping up, but then it suddenly cut off as the man frowned.

Harlow tensed, looking towards the end of the hall as his nose picked up this thick, heavy woodsy scent, mixed with so much more, though the main dominating smell reminded him of the wind. It was a smell that had already been present on the wolf in front of him.

“Stand down, Saint!” a deep, familiar voice snapped. “There are dead bodies everywhere and you are trying to pick a fight?! ”

Santiago’s deeply tanned face was grim as he stepped out of the short hall, coming in from the back entrance. Behind him, a shit ton of werewolves poured in. They must have already had their orders as they ignored their leader and swiftly disappeared down the hall. There had to be more of them than the number of police in the building, which explained the smell. Santiago’s pack members carried his scent, along with their own.

Foxx, who was beside him, didn’t stop what he was doing. Neither did the officer who was surprisingly moving shit pretty well for being so tiny and human.

Saint grimaced, glancing back at them. “Not trying to pick a fight, Alpha. There really isn’t anyone?—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Harlow snapped. “He needs to be sure.”

At least, that’s what he was assuming.

“Just go help the others,” Santiago ordered. The other werewolf looked at the door one last time, before nodding and walking away.

The taller man sighed. “Sorry about that.”

Harlow went to say something but stopped, his mouth twisting into a sneer as people from the fire department walked in. “Decided to do your jobs, did you?”

The cowards avoided his gaze as they passed—useless fucks.

“It’s open!” the officer yelled.

He turned just in time to watch Foxx rush into the room, the man shoving a heavy metal beam out of the way. Harlow stepped over it as it landed with a thud, moving to Foxx’s side, where he now knelt by a small puddle of blood in between boxes. A gentle breeze was flowing through the room from the large broken window in the center.

“Fuck…” the officer cursed, before blurting, “I’m Abri Lucenti. If you find anything out, please let me know. I’m going to go check if anyone has found someone injured outside.”

Abri didn’t give anyone time to say anything, the man having rushed away before the last word had even left his lips.

Snorting, Harlow’s gaze flicked to the broken window.

“He was here… He was right here,” Foxx murmured, before looking up, tilting his head slowly. “I smell so mething…”

Santiago, who had followed them in, took several deep breaths. “I do too, but I can’t seem to…place it,” he said, clearly confused.

Harlow drew in a breath, filling his lungs with the scent that was confusing the two men who were older than him by many centuries. Crisp and sharp, cold yet burning, it smelled like burnt timber set in the middle of fresh snow, mixed with this heavy, almost electrical ozone scent that was clearly not human.

His gaze trailed downward, and he found exactly what he assumed he would. Harlow eyed the three-inch black swirl that came to a definitive point on the wall just underneath the window.

Letting the breath out, he sighed. “Dragon—what you two are smelling is…dragon.”

The vampire and wolf looked over at him sharply, their eyes wide.

“Dragon?” Foxx rasped. “How could a dragon be here?”

“Impossible,” Santiago stated. “They are extinct on this plane. And even if we are out to the humans, they have zero reason to leave the Far Reaches, to come here to a world where their freedom would be limited.”

Harlow chuckled. “Well, one is here, in Houndside Hazard, and he put the fire out.”

The werewolf’s brow pulled. “How do you know this?”

“Because the bastard is a pain in my ass and a clingy motherfucker!” he snarled.

“Gavin!?” Foxx snapped. “It’s Gavin?! I thought he was human?!”

Harlow blinked. “I never said he was.”

“You never said he wasn’t!”

“You didn’t exactly ask,” he pointed out.

Foxx’s eyes narrowed. “Harlow, one would think I wouldn’t NEED to ask you if your sort of adoptive family was human or not!?”

Harlow opened his mouth and then closed it again as he thought it over. He supposed…he could have mentioned something when they’d realized the fucker was coming. But Foxx also hadn’t asked! And like, the man had only recently found out Gavin’s name, so like…

He smiled under the weight of the vampire’s glare. Anger was better than sadness. He liked when Foxx was angry, though he didn't necessarily like when the man was angry at him…

Okay, sometimes he did. It really depended on whether that anger was going to lead to consequences, and what those consequences happened to be.

“A real dragon,” Santiago rasped, sounding amazed.

“Ugh, don’t be too impressed. It’ll go to his damn head,” Harlow said with disgust. “The kid’s a pain. But that—” He pointed towards the burn on the wall. “—tells me this is where he pulled the fire from. I’m guessing he heard Wes calling for help and carried him out. Unlike us, he would have no trouble breaking the windows here.”

Foxx, who was no longer glaring, sagged a bit where he stood and sighed in relief. “So he’s safe?”

“I think it’s fine for us to assume so for now.”

The man sagged further, and as his face crumbled, Foxx covered it with his hands as he let out a soft sob. “Thank the G-Goddess.”

“Ah—fuck, Foxx.” He tried to pull the man over to him, but Foxx resisted.

“No—no!” the vampire said firmly as tears trailed down his face, one of his hands now pressed against Harlow’s chest. “W-we don’t have time for me t-to do this!”

“We can make time,” Harlow growled. Fuck everyone else. Besides, there were people everywhere now. What the fuck did they need them for?

Foxx whimpered. “No, we can’t.”

“I don’t know who you lost, but I am sorry,” Santiago murmured solemnly.

“Our handler died,” Harlow stated.

“Charity,” Foxx snapped.

Harlow winced as he met the vampire’s gaze, and spotted the hurt he’d heard in Foxx’s voice.

His boyfriend swallowed hard, before stiffly saying, “Her name was Charity. And she was more than just our handler, she was our friend, Harlow.”

He grabbed one of Foxx’s hands, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry. You’re right, she wasn’t just our handler. She was our friend. ”

Foxx wasn’t wrong. The anger he felt over her death told him that he had collected her and sorted her into the category of people that he saw as his things. And why wouldn’t he? She had protected them whenever shit went down. She had lied and covered for them. Yet it probably had happened long before that, before he’d ever met Foxx.

As much as Harlow had been hesitant to claim her as one of his ‘people’, something he’d even questioned multiple times in his head, it had all just been him bullshitting. Mostly due to her purposely annoying his ass. The fact was…there weren’t many people out there that he’d let permanently fuck with his phone without killing them.

Cold rage bubbled upwards as Charity’s smiling face flashed in his mind, along with the last ridiculous nickname she’d called him with her slight southern twang.

Bumble Bee…that was the last one she’d used. It was one she’d use frequently, for some reason. He had never even thought about it, or cared enough to ask her. So why…did he suddenly wish he had? The information wouldn’t have changed anything. Him wanting to know now didn’t make any fucking sense. Yet…he did…

Charity would have probably told him if he had asked, and likely would have then used the name more often afterwards, just to annoy him.

Clenching his jaw, Harlow ground his teeth together as he shoved the stupid thoughts, along with the anger they brought, back down. Hell, he just wanted to fucking kill someone. No, not someone, Maverick .

Foxx sniffed hard as he wiped at his face. “Come on…let’s go help. You are in charge.”

Harlow grunted, ignoring Santiago, who was still standing there somewhat awkwardly now, as he said, “I feel Tony may have miscalculated by giving you the job of keeping me from killing someone.”

The vampire snorted. “Possibly.”

“Ah.” Santiago cleared his throat.

They both stopped and looked up at the ridiculously tall werewolf, as Foxx murmured, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you two a question?” the wolf said, almost hesitantly .

“What?” Harlow grunted.

“There was this blue-haired hunter I interacted with last night named… Well, Ignatius, but he went by Iggy. Do we know if he and his partner survived the explosion?”

Harlow’s brow rose in surprise at the question, but he answered. “They weren’t here when it happened. Apparently, they got back late.”

“Oh, good.” Santiago sighed, his shoulders relaxing.

“Not good.” Foxx grimaced. “Iggy went missing right as they were attempting to break the back door down.”

“What?!” the wolf growled.

The vampire quickly added, “I believe his partner, Oceana, was going to search for him with a few officers. Likely someone outside will know what’s going on with that.”

Santiago stared for a moment before saying, “If you’ll excuse me.” And then the man was ducking through the door and out of sight.

“Well, that was weird.” Not that he cared, but…

Foxx sighed. “Not really, they screwed.”

Harlow jerked in shock and choked on spit as he went to talk. He coughed violently before managing to croak, “What?!”

His boyfriend eyed him. “He’s drenched in Iggy’s scent. Couldn’t you smell it?”

Had he smelled it? Harlow really had just been trying to avoid even more sensory overload, so no, he hadn’t really taken a great big breath of the tall, tanned, long-haired werewolf with a five o’clock shadow.

Frowning, Harlow sniffed. Underneath the werewolf’s scent—that he regretfully realized was muskier than normal—he did, in fact, smell Iggy. To him, the human smelled like a fucking strawberry pop tart, but now the scent was way more fucking musky than ever before.

Harlow couldn’t say he had ever wanted to know what either of the men smelled like sex-wise. He wrinkled his nose, shuddering at the unwanted knowledge. Ugh—whatever.

Wait—this was a good thing! Because Iggy likely being plowed by an almost seven-foot werewolf meant he would leave Foxx alone. “Good for them!” he said with a wide, pleased smile.

Foxx stared up at him, looking perplexed. “How did you go from clearly disgusted to happy?”

“Best you don’t know. Come on.” He prompted Foxx towards the door. “We’ve got assholes to save or watch die.”

“You are all…heart, Harlow,” the vampire sighed as he headed out of the door.