Page 42

Jaxson

“IF WE’RE JUST keeping my hair straight, then I don’t understand the need for so much hair product, Jax,” Billie grumbles from under the collar of the flannel she’s using to cover her mouth and nose as I spray a light amount of hair spray over her head.

“B,” I say. “There’s hardly any product, but you’ve got a cowlick in the front, and we need to make sure those bangs stay down the entire time.” Stepping in front of her, I waggle my finger. “You don’t want that upside-down V-split tonight, now do you?”

At first, she doesn’t answer, doesn’t react to my taunting. She just keeps scowling at me. My stomach tightens, and I’m wondering if her anxiety about this weekend has eroded away her sense of humor.

Then out of nowhere, my wrist is in her clutches, and my finger is feeling the pinch of her incisors. Before I can react, she flips the Billie coin again. Freeing me from her grasp, she waves a dismissive hand and says in a mockingly posh English accent, “Fine, fine—spray away darling. That cowlick is an unruly, little thing.”

Inspecting my index finger, I note the deep impressions she’s left behind, and I arch a brow at her. “You know what’s unruly? Biting the hand that styles.”

“’Twas only a finger!” she exclaims with wide eyes and a splayed hand over her chest. And just like the time we hung out at the preseason soccer dinner down by the fire, the air around us stills. Our eyes connect, and our playful spirits form a protective bubble. We hold the moment. I lift my hand, and she places her fingers over my wrist, stalling my movement. “I’ve got it, playmate.” She smiles, lifting up her other hand, ready to take the picture. “You are injured after all,” she adds, making me throw my head back with laughter, and that’s when I hear the click.

We’re still laughing when there’s a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Ethan offers with a soft smile, pressing up to standing from the oversized cushioned chair at the end of the coffee table I’ve got Billie seated on.

We’re in a hotel near the Museum of Science, where tonight’s fundraiser is being held—a fundraiser in which Decoction is the primary host and major sponsor. Ms. Danielle Ashby, the personal assistant of Frances Bordeaux, the CEO of Decoction, called earlier this week to invite Xander to attend not only the fundraiser but also a brief private tour of their laboratory with one of their lead scientists, a Dr. Lucas Dunne. After a little back-and-forth between him, Ms. Ashby, and us, he agreed to both, his father having already paid for two plates at the Decoction head table. Ms. Ashby asked if Xander’s plus-one would be Veronica Benton, as listed previously. He informed her she would not be. Ms. Ashby said she expected as much and that Mr. Bordeaux would miss Veronica’s presence. Yeah, because they got oh so cozy negotiating the terms of my attempted rape. When Ms. Ashby asked for the name of his plus-one, Xander hesitated and then carefully stated he had a few options and would prefer to leave the invitation open. The woman let out a seductive laugh and offhandedly mentioned, “My, you are Will’s son, aren’t you?” to which Xander flatly affirmed, “Yes, I am,” then alluded to an upcoming meeting and got off the phone.

The four of us have one of the executive suites at this swanky hotel, which is pretty posh. But of course, when Alessandro found out the fundraiser was open to the public so long as attendees purchased plates, he, the twins, and Annabelle all decided to join us and then got the suite one floor above us—the presidential suite, because only the best for His Royal Highness. That’s who I expect as Ethan goes to answer the door. But when he looks through the peephole and mutters, “Freakin’ teenagers,” my head snaps up and I look over at him with confusion creasing my brows. He turns to gaze at Billie with raised brows.

“I told them not to come,” she argues, raising her hands in defense, while one side of her lips curl into a lopsided smile, like she’s happy about them being here.

“They’re kids, love.” Ethan sighs, gesturing a hopeless hand toward the door. “We can’t—”

“Knock, knock,” Asher singsongs with an additional tappity-tap-tap on the door. “We’ve got our chaperones with us.”

“We’re not much older than them,” Billie challenges with a defiant lift of her chin.

“Open the door,” Xander says, waltzing through the open double doors that lead to the massive master bedroom and ensuite, his head down, focused on the cufflinks he’s threading through the sleeves of his black dress shirt.

Ethan shrugs a shoulder and opens the door. Asher’s critical eyes eat up everything he sees as he strolls in, and when they land on Billie, they widen in approval. “Duchessa,” he exclaims, rushing over to us. “Perfect, the styling is so you!”

“And what is me, exactly?” Billie probes with a quirk of her lips as she comes to standing and turns to face them.

“Rebel royalty at her finest,” he proclaims with a hand on his hip, the posture displaying several golden rings against the light gray of his pleated—yes, pleated—dress pants. And yes, the fashionista pulls them off, with a thin shiny black belt and small gold buckle.

“Thanks,” Billie chuckles before her eyes harden under the smokey makeup and long lashes. “Now tell me what the fuck you two are doing here,” she snaps, “after I expressly told you we had too many threats to keep track of tonight, and this wasn’t a good option to use for training?”

“You did,” Naomi asserts, stepping partially in front of Asher, her perceptive brown eyes sliding to her BFF in a way, that to me says, Keep your trap shut . “But we were able to devise some tech support that you may appreciate,” she says, lifting her hands up and showing two expensive-looking jewelry boxes held between her long ring-adorned fingers.

“I checked them out,” Heydar comments, strolling up behind the teens, with Alessandro and Annabelle slipping around the group to stand at Billie’s back while Assad stays at the door.

“And?” Ethan asks, folding his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between Naomi and Heydar.

Heydar places one massive paw on Naomi’s narrow shoulder and gives her a few almost-fatherly pats before letting it hang at his side. She twists her head around, showing the newly faded shave on one side of her head highlighting her coiled-up mohawk, and the proud smile breaking through his thick beard has her full lips curving up at the edges. “And I’m highly impressed by not just the technology but the materials and...” His eyes slide to Asher.

Asher puffs out his chest and smiles wide while, I kid you not, batting his lashes at Heydar and drawling, “The materials and...?”

Heydar huffs a chuckle and shakes his head. “And styling, how the tech is hidden within the pieces. It’s well done.”

“What technology?” Ethan questions. “What’s the purpose?”

“Here,” Naomi says, offering one box to Xander and the other to Billie. “We know you’re both going into the laboratory and that security will be tight, but I’m confident these will not trip any sensors.”

Billie opens hers, and she practically squeals. “Oh my God! I love these! No tech needed, just they’re awesome!” I peek over her shoulder, seeing a pair of gunmetal skull earrings with a rounded spike hanging from each.

“Knew you’d like them!” Asher chimes.

“The mouths are video cameras,” Naomi explains, “that are linked to my and”—she turns to Heydar— “now Heydar’s laptops.” She tentatively smiles at Ethan. “And I can download the app on yours as well, Beta Emerson.”

“Yes,” Ethan replies with a chin dip.

“The matching cufflinks,” Naomi continues, pointing a finger at the skull cufflinks Xander’s holding, “are for audio.” She reaches a palm out for one of the cufflinks, and Xander hands it to her. She shows how the T-bottom slips through the sleeve without tightening, then holding the cufflink between her index finger and thumb, she presses, and there’s a soft click. “It won’t start recording until you click it tight. I recommend not turning them on until you’re through security. Same with the earrings—the dangling spike just needs a twist to snap in tight and turn on the camera.”

“I’d turn them off exiting the building as well. From what Bruce said, based on his previous visits with William, you go through security in and out along with additional measures on specific floors,” Ethan says.

Xander nods to Ethan, then lifts up another piece and tosses a questioning look to Naomi. “The tie clip?”

“Emergency beacon,” Naomi states. “You turn the skull upside down, and it will send out an emergency beacon, telling us exactly where you are. I know you both have mental links to each other and to us, but they won’t work if you’re impaired or find yourself somewhere you don’t recognize.” My mouth dries, and my throat constricts. Shit’s getting more and more dangerous, and there’s already been so much blood spilled.

“And what about Wilhelmina?” Xander asks, working on switching out his cufflinks. “Does she not have an emergency beacon?”

“No, but she does have video, which will offer more information than audio on where she is,” Naomi says.

“This is absolutely amazing!” Billie proclaims, her gleaming eyes ping-ponging between her gentry. “Truly, way more than we planned on having going in there. So I take it you’ll both be staying here to manage the video and audio... in the safety of a hotel room?”

“ Si ,” Alessandro confirms with a nod, and Billie twists around to look up at him. He gives her a playful smile. “They’ll be staying in our room since as far as anyone knows, we’re only here for the fundraiser, having purchased several plates under a shell company’s name.” His gaze lifts to Ethan and me, and he raises his brows. “I thought it would be good for us to be with Naomi and Asher, watching and listening while Wilhelmina and Xander are at the laboratory. That way we can communicate mentally if needed—direct their movements and the conversation.”

Ethan’s brows dip, and he scrubs a hand over his short-shaved head. “We were planning on getting a bite to eat at a café near the laboratory. I don’t like the idea of being too far away from them in case something does happen.”

“That makes sense,” Assad says from his silent position at the door. His gaze goes to Heydar, and they have one of their wordless twin conversations. Heydar bobs his head, and Assad lifts his dark eyes to Alessandro. “Perhaps, Principe, you could stay with Asher and Naomi along with Heydar and Annabelle. I could go with Jax and Ethan.”

“Nope,” Billie states, shaking her head and resting her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what kind of external surveillance they have around the laboratory. With the café positioned across the street and just a little way down from the front entrance, they could potentially see into the café. We can’t risk them seeing you together when we’re trying to keep our association discreet. Plus there’ll be other patrons at the café who are with us and able to call for backup if needed.” Not giving anyone time to object or agree, she looks up at the clock and begins dragging her feet toward the double doors, groaning. “I’ve got to get dressed.” She closes one door, and with her hand on the other, she half turns to us. “Oh, and if you hear grumbling, cursing, whining or anything that may sound like a temper tantrum from behind these doors, please ignore them, as I will be most likely be doing just that—throwing a little hissy fit.” Then she enters the bedroom with a bratty slam of the door.

Xander shakes his head at her antics while smiling all the same and walks over to the hall closet, taking out his charcoal-gray jacket that goes with his dress pants and his new Doc Marten dress shoes, figuring if he is going to have to wear these clothes more often, he might as well like what he’s wearing. Alessandro floats down to sit in the oversized cushioned chair, while Annabelle and Heydar join me on the couch. Ethan, and Billie’s gentry head over to the small dining area with laptops in hand. Asher gushes with pride about the devices, while Ethan passively grills them about their experience with surveillance and alarms and how confident they are about everything.

Heydar pulls a tablet out from the oversized handbag Annabelle carried in and places it on the coffee table. “We’ve been able to download blueprints of both facilities, and with the help of Randall and Clyde, we’ve roughly determined a layout of the laboratory based on what the floors and departments are labeled as and what they can remember from their time in the Albany location.” He touches the screen and pulls up another folder with several files listed as names. Tapping on Lucas Dunne, he opens the file. “This is who supposedly is giving Wilhelmina and Xander the tour. Our intel has him leaving the Midwest Pack at the age of sixteen to attend MIT.”

“At sixteen?” I blurt.

“Yes.” He pulls up another document showing IQ evaluations, written recommendations from teachers and professors, and a copy of a newspaper article from the town paper of Madison, South Dakota. It’s entitled “A Patent Before Puberty” and has a picture of a young Lucas Dunne holding up a copy of his official patent papers, with thick black-rimmed glasses taking up most of his narrow face. I cringe reading the title, and Annabelle giggles. “It’s bad isn’t? I feel for him. I bet he didn’t even know they were going to use that title when they took his picture.”

Scratching my chin, I drawl out, “I don’t know, Annabelle”—pointing a finger at the picture— “he doesn’t seem too happy to me.” She laughs and nods while I scan the article reading about him developing some sort of bacteria that eats oil or something, and then it talks about his fascination with grafting fruit trees. “So, he’s a genius.”

“Si ,” Alessandro affirms, leaning over the arm of the chair to view the screen. “And he’s not been back to the Midwest Pack since he left, except for when, based on his travel data, he started attending the wolf pack annual conferences five years ago. He’s been with Decoction since he came out here, before they even moved to Cambridge—first as an intern during his summer breaks and then as a full-time lab researcher. Now he’s the lead scientist of the research and development team—second in charge under a Dr. Fallon, who’s been with the company almost from the start, at their first facility in Ireland.”

“We couldn’t find too much else out on Dunne,” Heydar hisses through gritted teeth, scratching his beard and gesturing a hand to the screen showing an updated headshot of Lucas, who looks like what one would expect a nerdy hot scientist to look like: trimmed dark beard that doesn’t detract from his sculpted features, same thick glasses, just for an adult, and a look of complete disinterest at having his picture taken. “He seems to have no social life, no friends, no acquaintances, and if he’s not at the laboratory, he’s at home, at the gym, or taking his daily morning walk around Fresh Pond Reservation. Based on his credit card statements, he rarely eats out; he buys his groceries at the same place within the same two-hour span every Sunday morning without fail. And everything is like that with him, scheduled and repetitive.”

“E—” I start.

“Don’t, Jax,” he snips back, not lifting his gaze from the two laptop screens he and the kids—yeah, I’m still gonna call them kids—are bent over. “He’s not me, and I’d never be him because I’ve always had you and X. Maybe this Lucas didn’t.” And his sentiment has me blushing like aw shucks .

“It’s hard for those who are super-geniuses,” Asher comments with a dramatic exhale and a limp-wristed wave at Naomi. “Who knows what state Omi here would’ve been in if it weren’t for yours truly.”

“I’d have probably overthrown the Chinese government by now,” Naomi mutters while squinting and typing in what looks like code, based on what I can see on the screen. “But no, you had to keep coming over, prattling on about things and forcing food down my throat. Like I couldn’t live off anger, Skittles, and energy drinks alone...”

“You were trying to take down an entire country because you got food poisoning once from House of Peking,” Asher retorts, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest, making his pecs bulge from under the half-buttoned front of his black, gray, and white floral-printed dress shirt, which—again—the little prick pulls off somehow. He’s definitely going to give Alessandro a run for his money when it comes to fashion.

“I almost died!” Naomi protests, throwing one arm up in the air, the other hand still typing away.

“It’s run by two Greek men!” Asher counters.

“Whatever,” Naomi grumbles dismissing him, and I notice both of them have been smiling the entire time. At that moment, several of our phones’ ping.

Picking mine off the coffee table I see a text from Billie:

I t’s a Popularity Contest!!!

Business Card: Shifter/non-shifter, 0–10 shifter sympathizer, two personal details

Most cards with the most information wins. Card = 1 point each, and 1 point for each piece of information

Bonus Points: I scattered 7 Pokémon stickers in the museum my sophomore year of high school. Take picture: 1 point each

Characters: Pikachu, Bulbasaur, Pidgeotto, Poliwag, Golem, Vulpix, Rattata

“Welcome to formal events with our mate,” I chuckle, gazing over at Annabelle, Heydar, and Alessandro as they read her text with mixed expressions.

Alessandro glances up at me, with a wide smile and raised brows. “She means the anime characters, si ?”

I laugh and nod. “Yeah, she does.”

Assad looks at Xander, who’s removing his and Billie’s—well, isn’t he predictable? —overcoats, both olive green, from their travel bags, and huffs. “I do not know if this is fair. You’ll have an advantage of time and position.”

Heydar grunts in affirmation. “Yes, many will just be giving you their cards, little effort on your part.” It takes me a second to realize that not only are they talking about her game, but they’re serious.

Ethan absently says, “Valid point, but we’ll be able to talk with anyone, while Xander and Billie will be monopolized by the board members.” The twins look at each other, grunting, and I can’t tell if it’s an acceptance or if they’re still unsure about... what? The fairness of our mate’s distraction/information-gathering game?

The bedroom doors open, and Billie storms out, heading for her large bag on the floor near an end of the couch, while rattling off instructions. “Are we clear on safety precautions? No one is to be by themselves. We check in with the bonds before we leave to go anywhere. Reuse glasses if possible, and do not drink anything from an opened container that was specifically handed to you by someone you don’t know, other than a bartender or a server.” She’s bent over with her back to me, transferring some things to her black clutch, while I just stare at her. Her dress is practically backless, showing off her tattoos, and framed by black lace that goes down to her wrists. The bottom is black tulle over satin, coming to mid-thigh, and she’s wearing fishnet stockings with stars and moons on them. When she turns around, I have to bite back a moan at seeing the lace continue all the way around the front, over a small black sweetheart satin half bodice that covers her stomach and chest while allowing most of her elephant tattoo to be seen through the lace. She bends over again, and my dick is taking all this bending over as a sign, like maybe she needs a little stress relief before heading out. She latches the clasp on one of her—fuck—spike-covered platform Mary Janes and stands up, looking at us expectantly.

When no one immediately answers, her cheeks pinken, and her arms wrap around her waist. “Not helping with my anxiousness, guys.”

“Do we all have alcohol wipes?” Ethan asks, no longer looking at the screen because there are much better things to look at.

Billie snaps her fingers. “Fuck, right.” Then she hurries back into the bedroom.

I turn to Xander, nearly begging, “You need to make her feel comfortable in dresses because...” Swallowing, I glance toward the bedroom and lick my lips. “I’m highly comfortable with her wearing them, yea.”

She rushes back in, practically stomping in the chunky shoes, and hands out packets of alcohol wipes to everyone, even Asher and Naomi. Naomi lifts a sculpted brow, and Billie shrugs. “What, you never know when you’ll need to disinfect something.”

Naomi looks at the wipes, then slides them over to Asher. “Here, Ash, I think you’ll come into a situation where these will be needed sooner than I.”

Asher gazes from the wipes to his friend, who’s batting her lashes and giving him a shit-eating grin. “Well,” Asher exhales, laying a hand down on the wipes and slowing pulling them to join his. “I will admit I’ve found myself in some rather”—he quirks a brow— “sticky situations. It’s my willingness to keep going out there that has landed you with the best friend of all time.”

Billie shakes her head and softly smiles at their interaction while coming around to perch on the arm of the couch next to Annabelle. She jerks her chin in Alessandro’s direction. “Did you guys get my text?”

Alessandro’s green eyes are sparkling like emeralds, and his mouth is spread into a Cheshire cat’s grin. “ Si la mia stella , we did... though...” He glances at Heydar and Assad. “There seems to be some contention over the fairness of the game, with you and Xander having more time and opportunity.”

Billie’s glossy pink mouth opens, then closes, and she looks at the ceiling. “I guess you’re right. How about”—she drums her fingers on her chin and hums— “a handicap. You can get a five-point handicap.” She lifts her brows until they’re invisible behind her bangs and sarcastically says. “I mean, if you think you need it.”

“We’ll be fine, Duchessa,” Heydar grunts. “No handicap needed.” He points a finger at Alessandro and smiles. “We have il volpe infuocato , after all.” Alessandro’s cheeks blush rose.

“Will you be breaking hearts tonight, Alessandro?” Billie questions with a cant of her head and a saucy smile.

Alessandro holds her taunting gaze and offers her a half smile while sighing. “Never their hearts, la mia stella . I assure you, hearts—theirs or mine—are not what they have in mind.”

“Well, they’re idiots then,” Billie grunts with a backhanded wave. She lifts her gaze to Xander “Should we go?” I sneak a peek at Alessandro. He’s so perfectly still, he could be a statue, but his eyes hold an emotion nothing made of stone could ever express. Of course, Billie is completely oblivious, not realizing she just sent cracks through a deep insecurity of his with an offhanded comment.

“We should,” Xander says, holding up her long olive-green military-inspired coat with what I think is a red satin lining.

“Where’d you... ?” she starts with furrowed brows, then steps over to him. Rolling her eyes and expelling a breath, she says, “Of course you bought us matching coats,” stashing something into the inside chest pocket of the coat before spinning around and slipping her arms through. She then tucks her small clutch into one of the deep exterior pockets.

Seeing his still hanging from the corner of the closet door, I get up to inspect it, while he helps her into hers. Pulling her hair out from the high collar, he leans in, bringing his lips to her ear and murmuring, “Unity always, mate.” Spinning her around, he caresses her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Us four, first and always,” he adds, while his fingers work on tugging the front together.

“Wait,” Annabelle blurts, coming to standing and rushing to them. “I, um...” her face full-on blushes, and I watch as she forces herself to maintain control. I don’t know what she’s about to say, but it’s gonna be good. Rolling her shoulders back and dropping her hands to her sides to prevent her fingers from fidgeting, she says, “Randall and Clyde suggested that Xander may want to scent mark you before heading into the laboratory, Billie.”

Blondie jolts to awareness, and my mouth begins to water. She said Xander , I tell him. He whimpers and pouts while swallowing back down the drool. Yeah, buddy, I wish it were us too.

Billie gapes and stutters. “Ah . . . what now?”

“Scent mark her,” Annabelle firmly states, her eyes hard and fixed on Xander, whose hands have stilled on the metal buckles of our mate’s jacket while looking at Annabelle with great interest. Annabelle curtly nods. “Make her smell like you. Muddy up her fox scent, make it hard to discern.”

Xander pushes the coat off Billie’s shoulders and hands it to me. “Noted,” he says so calmly like this is just a task he has to fulfill. But I can see how eager he is based on the tightening of the front of his pants. His eyes glow blue and white, his wolf also just as excited. Gripping a totally flabbergasted Billie, he twirls her around. Trailing a hand up her back, her cups her nape before pushing her hair to one side. Billie inhales a sharp gasp, and Xander snakes a possessive arm around her waist, keeping her in place. By the time he opens his mouth, drool is already pooling at the corners and dripping over his lower lip. He presses his mouth to her neck and laps his tongue up to behind her ear. Billie’s entire body shudders, and I watch fascinated as the drool froths and bubbles with each pass he makes.

Billie’s face is beet red, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, trying to refrain from reacting. Against all her efforts, a squealing moan breaks through the tight press of her lips as Xander squats down and traces his tongue from the bottom of the scooped back, just above her bum, all the way up her spine. His fingers are white with how tightly he’s gripping her hips, and contented purring growls rumble from his chest.

“Won’t...” Billie drily rasps, shuttering her eyes and mumbling something under her breath. She clears her throat while Xander squats down and starts another long line over her back, the first line still frothing as the saliva seeps into her flesh. “Won’t. . .” she mumbles. “Won’t potential arousal be an—” She inhales a shuddering breath when one of Xander’s hands climbs her front to cup her breast as he rises up. “Issue?” she squeaks.

“Your arousal is specific to you, not your subspecies,” Ethan coolly explains, pressing up from the table and strolling over to stand in front her, next to me. I’m loosely holding their jackets in front of a raging hard-on, utterly mesmerized by the show.

Xander squats down and continues his methodical painting of her back. Ethan slips a knuckle under her chin, and Billie sways, her eyes just slits under heavy lids. “However, your orgasm, your climax...” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “That will have the scent of your fox mixed in.” He looks over her shoulder as Xander rises once more, and their eyes connect. “Just as our semen holds the scent of wolf-shifter.” Billie, slipping into some sort of calm daze doesn’t register the implication of E’s words, but I do. Oh, I fuckin’ do. The lucky bastard.

Xander extends his hand out for her jacket and slides his pupil-dilated glowing gaze to Annabelle. “Would you suggest reapplying over the course of the evening?” he probes, placing the jacket on Billie’s shoulders but not threading her arms through the sleeves. Ethan helps out and hooks just the middle clasp.

My gaze is on Annabelle, who is twisting her lips in thought, and I pass Xander his jacket, which he folds over one arm. “It wouldn’t be inadvisable,” she carefully replies.

“We can help!” I offer with a raised hand. “I mean, so long as her fox scent is masked, should be fine right?”

“Huh?” Billie yips, turning her head to stare at Annabelle with a mix of disbelief and treason. Xander places a firm hand on her nape and begins ushering her toward the door, before they’re too late.

“Right,” Annabelle answers. “They said her scent was most important to cover up. If she smells like a wolf, they’ll be less likely to connect her to before.” And the door to the room closes with their departure.

“If they haven’t already,” Ethan amends and then turns to look at me. “Jax, we need to change— like, now.”

“Oh shit!” I utter, forgetting that we’re heading out as their backup.

“Your hair is done, right?” Ethan challenges.

Rolling my eyes, I grunt. “Yeah, E, my hair is done, so we’ll be quick.”

“We’ll head upstairs then,” Alessandro announces and waves his arm for the kids to follow. “Come, we’ll get you both situated and the feed up and running.” Returning his gaze to us he adds, “Good luck and keep in touch. We’ll see you at the museum.” Then like they’re his charges; he ushers the young wolves in front of him and out the door.