Page 52

Wolfe

G iven how in one another’s pockets the Hyde Park friend group seemed to be, it came as no surprise when, less than an hour after the encounter with Roman, Wolfe’s doorbell rang.

He’d passed the time since his phone call with Tobias staring intently at his mate’s face, not even bothering to change out of his borrowed clothing (and how convenient, that he and Brenda had been roughly the same height and build).

He was trying, and failing, to figure out the exact moment of his loss of control.

Was it when he’d bitten Eric, punctured that tender skin and opened the floodgates?

Or when he’d touched him for the first time, laid hands on those broad shoulders?

Or perhaps from the very first moment Wolfe had seen him and his beast had recognized what it was he meant to them?

Beast aside, Wolfe supposed he’d always especially liked things that belonged to him and him alone.

As a child, he’d never wanted to share, hadn’t seen the point of it—not his toys, not his treats, not the attention from adults he occasionally required.

He’d reacted with violence when forced to do so, until he’d reluctantly learned the consequences of that aggression from his parents, who’d been quick to punish and even quicker to order others to do it for them.

Adults were bigger and stronger than children, was what it came down to, so it didn’t do to give them a reason to exercise that might.

Wolfe had learned at a very early age that manipulation was best, and the more subtle he could be, the better.

He’d started honing those skills with the members of his household staff, then perfected them at boarding school. He’d been a star pupil to the professors and a holy terror to the other children, a reputation he’d earned within days of his arrival.

Nobody had asked him to share after that.

And now here was a person, an entire human being—soon-to-be vampire—that belonged solely to him. Gifted by fate.

Was it any wonder he was so fascinated? Was it truly a surprise, when his patience had started out threadbare as it was, that the beast had been able to dig its claws into those holes and take control?

Perhaps not. Perhaps it had all been inevitable.

So while the doorbell ringing was not surprising, it was unwelcome.

What right did anyone else have to interfere with what belonged to him?

But it was necessary for Wolfe to remind himself of the bigger picture.

To live the unnaturally long, protected life he envisioned, he would need security, connections, and funds.

And for that, he needed community. This community, if he wanted his due half of Johann’s billions.

So he reluctantly left the spare bedroom with his transforming mate inside it and opened the front door to find Johann standing there, dressed in another one of his atrocious sweatpants numbers.

A quick glance past his small frame confirmed Roman was still on the property, along with his pretty mate, the nurse.

Alexei lurked as well, and even from afar, it was clear he wasn’t pleased to be separated from Johann, even for a few moments.

Wolfe was annoyed to note he now understood the sentiment.

“Johann,” Wolfe greeted mildly. He wasn’t quite sure what impulse exactly had him feigning ignorance of the purpose of their visit, other than the simple desire to see if he could pull it off. “How may I help you?”

But the other vampire wasn’t having it, his little face already scrunched in anger. “Wolfgang.” He made Wolfe’s name sound like a scolding.

Wolfe didn’t like that one bit.

But he didn’t let his annoyance show, other than a slight flattening of his lips. “I’d invite you in, but I’m afraid now’s not the best time.”

Wolfe had always liked Johann well enough.

He was polite, he was more observant than people gave him credit for, and he treated Wolfe’s psychopathy for what it was—namely, a psychological condition rather than a moral failing.

But there was no way in hell Wolfe was allowing anyone—ally or not—into his home when his mate lay there, vulnerable and unconscious.

At least not until he had a proper plan of action in place.

Johann continued to look at him like he was the source of some great betrayal. “I thought I told you we wouldn’t be that kind of den.”

As if what Wolfe had done was anything like the practices of their old den: kidnapping random humans, turning them with the misguided hope they’d be happy to serve whatever master had chosen them, then disposing of them when they so often didn’t work out.

It was all wasteful, tedious, and unreasonably risky, but Wolfe had never been in a position to change anything without risking his own neck in the process.

“I beg your pardon?” He didn’t let his offense at such an accusation show.

He was ready to continue this ploy of mild confusion right up until Johann threatened to cut him out of the pot, crossing his arms in some subconscious effort to physically intimidate Wolfe (a laughable impulse).

“I’ll leave you out in the cold, Wolfe. No money.

No den. No nothing. I don’t like liars.”

And what Johann’s body language couldn’t achieve, his words certainly could.

Wolfe was forced to go through the indignity of explaining his own actions to another, as if he answered to anyone other than himself.

“I only wanted a little taste. The blood of a mate is supposed to be especially sweet. I tried to compel him. My beast would not…cooperate.” Wolfe ran a hand through his hair, which had become decidedly mussed in the massage room scuffle and was not nearly up to its normal standards. “So I did what had to be done.”

Johann’s face scrunched even tighter. “And what are you going to do with him now?”

“He’ll stay with me, of course.”

He thought he did a fair job of keeping his continued irritation to himself, right up to the point where Johann reiterated Roman’s earlier absurd assertion. “But that’s not your decision.”

Why did people keep insisting on this fact?

They were categorically wrong . Whether Wolfe’s transforming mate knew it yet or not, they were already bound.

Eric belonged to him, body and soul, gifted by fate itself.

Wolfe and his beast had known it from the very first sighting; everyone else could either get in line or face the consequences.

And there should have been a way to point that out to Johann calmly—dispassionately, even. Instead—

“He’s mine ,” Wolfe found himself growling. His beast was ready to pounce, to swipe little Johann off their doorstep and rip apart any of his friends who dared come to his rescue.

He was losing it, clearly.

Wolfe had always— always —handled Johann with kid gloves.

There had never been any reason to act otherwise.

The cloyingly sweet vampire was traumatized to the point where only the smallest amounts of decency and surface-level kindness were required to guarantee his friendship and loyalty, a fact that Wolfe had always taken full advantage of.

Still, not even Johann had the right to try to remove Wolfe’s mate from his grasp. No one did.

But Johann stood his ground—despite the growl, despite the rage he must have seen on Wolfe’s face—an act Wolfe might have admired if he weren’t so irritated by it. “That’s his choice, Wolfe. You know that.”

Did he?

He’ll choose us , Wolfe’s beast insisted, its hackles raised by Johann’s verbal challenge. He will .

Wolfe said as much to Johann, and when he still insisted one of his party be allowed inside to verify that, Wolfe came as close as he ever had to snapping his little friend’s neck, just to teach him a lesson.

But that would be counterproductive, especially with the three other vampires lurking in the background, watching their every move. So Wolfe did something he despised.

He compromised.

“When he awakens, one of you may speak with him.”

Johann, beaming like Wolfe had offered to make him Eric’s vampire godfather, immediately offered himself up as liaison, an offer which Wolfe immediately refused. “No. You’re too tainted by trauma. You’ll frighten him unnecessarily.”

It was true. There was too much baggage there—if Eric showed even the slightest bit of fear, Johann would be trying to rescue him in an instant.

Neither was Alexei the appropriate choice, seeing as how Wolfe had taken his human life by force a little over a week ago.

No, Johann’s mate wouldn’t leave the necessary positive impression.

But Roman’s lovely nurse mate, Danny… He and Eric worked at the same hospital.

Perhaps it would be comforting for Eric to see a familiar face.

And comfort would be good, would increase the chances Wolfe’s mate would agree to stay without coercion.

Danny was also happily mated to Roman, despite unfortunate circumstances surrounding his transformation.

He would be perhaps more inclined to encourage another happy union, even if Eric’s first knee-jerk reaction upon awakening was one of fear.

And if not…

Well, Wolfe would have to come up with some alternative plans of action.

“Your nurse friend with the lovely eyes. When the good doctor awakens, they may speak. Will that appease you?”

He resisted yet again lashing out when Johann insisted on them all coming in the morning, rather than waiting for Wolfe’s call. It would be inconvenient if Eric didn’t wake before then—less time for Wolfe to get into his head without their interference.

But ah, well. These were the consequences of acting on impulse.

Still, that was plenty of capitulations for the moment. It was time to return his attention to where it belonged.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, already in the act of shutting the door on Johann’s startled face. “I have some preparations to make.”

He stood here behind the door for another few moments, listening as Johann returned to his friends, as Danny agreed to speak with Eric in the morning, as Roman suggested Wolfe may be more trouble than he was worth.

An annoyingly astute observation, really.

Wolfe could only hope Johann’s sentimentality for their past decade of friendship would buy him some time. He just needed things to…settle a bit.

“See what you’ve done?” he taunted his beast as he turned to the stairs. “Now they’ll be trying to take him away from us.”

We won’t let them , his beast insisted, hackles rising yet again.

“No,” Wolfe agreed, ascending the steps. “We won’t.”

Wolfe had plenty to do. He had the painters to call and defer, Tobias to check in on (he didn’t trust that little weasel to leave them alone as promised), financial preparations to make.

But despite his list of tasks, he nonetheless found himself wandering up to the room where both he and his beast wanted to be. He drew up an armchair next to the bed and began making his calls from there, never taking his eyes off the figure resting so peacefully.

It was foolish to worry. No one was taking Eric away from him.

No one.