Rome and Jules, page 8
He threw his head back and howled a laugh. “Do you let anyone get away with anything?”
“Not often. That’s also why I’m not very popular.”
“Especially emperors with no clothes, I’ll bet.”
“Yeah, my dad tries to keep me away from anyone who matters.”
“Shit, you’d be a great alpha female.” Whoa. What did he just say?
“From your lips to the wolfgods’ ears. I sure wouldn’t mind whipping some lazyass packs into shape.” She grinned.
“You’re the female to do it.”
“So why don’t you take me out?”
“What? I don’t have a death wish.”
“I’ll bet between the two of us, we could figure out someplace to have dinner where Ty Montgomery isn’t likely to find us.”
“Sure. Anyplace that doesn’t serve fries.”
She flashed her bright-white, very sharp teeth. “Now you’re thinking like my kind of wolf.”
Well, damn, his father would be ecstatic, but how scary was it to hang out with the smartest she-wolf bitch on the planet?
Chapter Nine
JULES stared out the window of the little red sports car—what kind was it again?—as Donald pulled up in front of the mansion and stopped.
Try to look interested. He turned and smiled. “Are you staying with us tonight?”
“Nah. I’m sick of dealing with your father, and I have work to do.” His smile got hungry, and he slid a hand around Jules’s neck—not a long reach in the small confines of the car. “Unless I can sleep with you. In that case I’ll stay all night.”
Not the first time this topic had come up.
“I don’t think it’s customary to deliver the goods until the contract has been signed.” He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.
“Yeah, well, haven’t you heard of the marketing concept of free samples?”
“Not at Tiffany’s.” He offered up his best snarky smile and got a return laugh from Donald.
“You figure that ass is twenty-four karat, huh?”
“So I’m told.”
He scowled. “By who?”
“Those who long for access.”
The frown lightened. “Kiss me good night so I can get to my office.”
Jules hid his shudder and leaned forward. Donald tightened his hand in Jules’s hair, yanked his head in, and closed his lips over Jules’s mouth. He tasted of the wine he’d drunk and maybe a little leftover grease from the gigantic steak he’d consumed, super rare. No cajoling by this tongue. He stuck it into Jules’s throat and withdrew it over and over—surely meant to be a preview of thrusting acts to come. If so, no movie trailer could be more off-putting to Jules. The sweet hotness of Rome’s mouth rose up in memory, trying to block the live experience. No such luck. Yuck. He gently pressed against Donald’s chest, but he might as well have been pushing a wall. Turning his head to the side, he managed to get his lips free enough to say, “Good night.”
“Like hell!” Donald pulled Jules’s hair and slammed his mouth back on Jules’s lips so powerfully they cut against his teeth and Jules tasted the sharp iron of blood.
Enough. Of. This. Fucking. Crap. Jules grabbed Donald’s hair and yanked hard enough it came close to snapping his neck.
“What the fuck?”
Tightening his grip, Jules held Donald’s head. “Remember who you’re dealing with, puppy. I said good night.” He released Donald so quickly he fell back against the driver’s door. Jules tried his door and found it locked. He turned his head and met Donald’s eyes with his own. The message was not friendly.
Donald reached behind him and unlocked the door so fast the sheer inertia should have singed his fingers. Jules slid out and stalked to the front door of the mansion, pulling his key from his pocket.
That wasn’t wise, but sometimes wisdom is overrated.
Inside the entry, he stopped. His father sat on the next-to-the-bottom step on the huge, Tara-like staircase that graced the mansion from way back in the day. “Sir, are you all right?”
His father looked up, bleary-eyed as usual. “Where’s Anderson?”
“He left. He said he had some work he had to do.”
“Fuck that. We need to finish this agreement so I can get my money.”
His money. Only hundreds of generations of werewolf blood rich in filial piety kept him from smashing his father in the face. “I seem to recall I’m the one giving up my life for this money, and I suggest you be sober when you negotiate with Anderson, since I’ll be damned if I’ll be a sacrifice for less than a fantastic deal.”
HERE I am again. Rome skirted the edge of the fence behind Jules’s rooms. If Anderson’s money had already been put to work on security, he was toast, but Jules’s sad eyes kept flashing in his head.
I should let it go. Accept my fate and Jules’s. Shit, somehow it was easier to accept his own. The prospect of Jules married to that rich asshole for the rest of his days made Rome want to puke.
With a leap he grabbed a handhold halfway up the fence, pulled himself up, grasped the top, and with a high jumper’s vault, scaled the top and dropped down to the ground, where he landed in a crouch. Perhaps Havilland didn’t worry so much about security since most wolves couldn’t have scaled that fence without equipment. Or maybe he figured he didn’t have much left to steal.
Bending low to blend into the overgrown bushes, Rome skirted the lawn and found the tree that grew closest to the balcony. No lights inside. Maybe he’s asleep? But it was still relatively early. He hunkered down and rested his head on his hand.
JULES stared down at the sleeping guy. Wolfgods, look at that face. So bold and beautiful—like everything about him.
He squatted down a few feet from Rome. Any closer and he was pretty sure Rome would smell him. Surprised he hasn’t yet. Must be really tired. “Rome?”
In one shockingly instant move, Rome’s eyes flicked open and he leaped to his feet in a fighting crouch with hands extended and a snarl on his lips. And such pretty lips they are.
Jules smiled as he stood. “Day late and dollar short there, wolfie. If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”
Rome snorted and shook his head. “In my defense, you don’t register on my brain as an enemy.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“Sorry to sneak in again, but I just—” He spread his hands. “I just wanted to see you.”
Jules walked closer and sat on the sparse grass under the tree. Rome plopped down in front of him. “What’s going on in Siracusa world?”
A flicker of a frown crossed Rome’s face. “He’s pretty intent on getting me married.”
“Must be catching.” Jules ripped a handful of grass and threw it a couple of feet.
“Have they set a date for the wedding?”
“No. I’d love to believe it’s out of deference to my requests to slow down the process, but the fact is, Donald and my father haven’t been able to work out a deal yet.” He glanced up into Rome’s wide dark eyes. “You know. The deal for my ass.”
“Is, uh, Anderson really awful?” Rome also pulled up grass.
He snapped, “You think forced marriage would be better if the guy is adorable?” Jules held up a hand. “Sorry. That was dumb. In the real world of werewolves, it would be better. Kind of like the old arranged marriages that turned out okay.” He sighed. “The fact is, Anderson’s a full-of-himself, manipulating, my-way-or-the-highway SOB, although I have to confess, I make him worse by baiting him. If I could just be the cute little boy geisha he wants, I’m sure I’d catch more flies.”
Rome tossed a rock so far it probably reached the next state. “You shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to do any of this crap. I just hate it.”
“Not as much as I do, but thanks.” An involuntary shudder shook him. “Wolfgods, the guy kissed me and, shit, I almost broke his neck. I can’t even imagine what I’ll do when it comes time to fuck.” He gritted his teeth against another shudder.
“Damn.” Rome rose up on his knees and gathered Jules against him. “I know I don’t have any right, but the idea of that dude—the idea makes me want to barf. I wish I could kill him!” He clutched Jules tightly to his chest.
Jules stroked Rome’s soft hair. “Easy there, wolfie. Murder outside of warfare is frowned on in our society.”
“I know, I know. We aren’t human. But damn, Jules, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
He kissed Rome’s cheek. “Thank you, my wolfie.”
Rome’s lips rested against Jules’s ear. “That’s it, you know? I want to be your wolfie. Just yours.”
“Oh wolfgods. How can you say that? You don’t even know me.” But he already felt the answer deep in his heart.
“I knew you from the first second I saw you. My soul recognized yours. I belong with you, Jules. We’re made to go together.” His lips pressed softly against Jules’s ear and the whisper shivered down his spine. “Do you feel it too?”
The word sighed out on a long breath. “Yes.” Jules slid his face to the side until his lips brushed Rome’s. A shock of pleasure lit him up like a neon sign, far too bright to hide in a dark, unkempt garden.
Rome whispered, “You’re so perfect.” His lips closing over Jules’s felt like heaven. Like fate. Like love. Jules wrapped his arms around Rome. Please god of wolves, let me stay this way forever.
Jules kissed deeper, trying to drive the memory of Donald’s thrusting tongue from his mind and his mouth. How was it possible Rome could feel so right? A Siracusa. Synonymous with the word devil in his father’s mouth.
Don’t give a shit. He pressed closer, and Rome hauled him to the ground, cushioning his fall, then stretched out on top of him.
Oh man, too many nerve endings all sparked at once—lips, chest, belly, and, oh yes, cock—mashed against Rome’s hard body and caressed by his soft hands. Sparks flew from Jules’s groin to his butt, making him bob his hips to get a tighter connection as his tongue fenced with Rome’s, hoping to lose the battle. Rome gripped Jules’s ass and wiggled his hips to get between Jules’s legs, the hard lump of his erection turned into a battering ram against Jules’s most sensitive parts. “Holy gods, yes!”
“Oh shit, oh shit.” Rome rode against him so hard Jules saw stars that were nowhere near the dark sky.
Sparks replaced thoughts, and Jules pumped up to meet Rome’s thrusts. He thrashed his head and banged against Rome like a wild man. All he wanted was to come—with Rome. Somehow, spilling seed with Rome felt like fulfillment of some mystic certainty. Written in the stars. “Rome, more. Yes!”
“Oh god of wolves, do it. Now, do it!” He thrust so hard, Jules drove down against Rome’s hands that still protected him from the rocks and twigs on the ground. Grinding their cocks together, he pressed his tongue deep into Jules’s mouth only for a moment, like he needed a taste, but otherwise couldn’t concentrate on anything but their dicks setting fire to the trees—and the world.
“Rome, shiiit!” His head exploded, but not as much as his balls, as shots of heat flooded his briefs and jeans.
Rome gave a long, low moan and froze; head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Anyone seeing his gleaming teeth in a feral smile would believe in werewolves on sight.
Rome flopped on top of Jules, laughing. “Well, damn, I haven’t come in my jeans since I was a pup.”
“Me either.” Jules smoothed Rome’s shiny hair. “You make me feel young again.”
Rome propped his head on an elbow and stared down into Jules’s eyes, so very close Jules could see the specks of gold and green in the deep brown of his pupils. “Uh, how old are you, oh ancient one?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Two years older than me.”
“Lying here with squishy pants, I flash back to being fifteen.”
Rome laughed and burst into a chorus of “Like a Virgin.”
Jules slapped his ass. “All I have to do is climb back into my balcony door and toss my clothes in the hamper. You have a trip down the hill in wet drawers.”
“Maybe I’ll throw away my clothes and shift.” Jules raised an eyebrow, and Rome’s cocky grin froze—just for an instant. “I mean, I would if it was closer to the full moon.”
Jules just nodded but tucked the response away. Maybe his wolfie had told him more than he intended. Few wolves could shift except on the three days of the full moon. Powerful wolves extended that perhaps a week in either direction. It was unlikely his own father, alpha of the Havilland pack, could do much better than that.
Rome sighed and kissed the edge of Jules’s mouth. “The next time we do this, how about undressed and in a bed?”
“Good by me, but I’m afraid to try my room. Your scent would linger and be picked up by sensitive noses.”
“Maybe a motel?”
Jules frowned. “Do you have any credit cards that aren’t monitored by your father? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
“I hear there’s this thing called cash.”
“Do you have any?”
“Ah, yes, I do.” He grinned and rolled to the side, removing his wonderful weight and heat from Jules. Rome sat up and wrapped his arms around his bent legs, gazing down at Jules. “Every time my father has given me money for anything, I’ve saved a little. When I pay for things by credit card, I try to get a small amount of cash. I tell him I need cash for food at school, and then I hide it and have a smoothie.”
Jules turned on his side, feeling the prickle of drying cum in his underwear. “That’s a lot of planning. What for?”
He shrugged. “Gods bless the child who’s got his own. Being a gay werewolf in a pack that happens to hate such creatures, it’s a wise idea to have some escape plan.”
“Man, I’m sorry. That sucks.” He drew in a breath. “Do you have plans to leave?”
“I can’t bring myself to say yes. There’s hardly a day some piece of me doesn’t wish I was just a human who could walk away from family and community with little thought and for any reason—offense, adventure, privacy, independence. It’s so easy for them. But us? Hell, our blood barely flows without pack. The idea of being a lone wolf makes me physically ill. It’s a curse, man.”
“Yeah, I know, and worst for us, the sons of alphas. Thousands of years of pack consciousness drives us to protect and save. Shit.”
They both stared at the rocky dirt. Rome said, “What are we going to do, Jules?”
“Our duty, I guess.” He sat up in front of Rome and took his hands.
“Supporting the degeneracy of your pack and the prejudices of mine? Gotta admit, that feels like a crock of shit.”
“Yeah, and we’re in it neck-deep.” He raised Rome’s hands and kissed them.
“But they haven’t married us off yet. Let’s keep our chins up and mouths closed and hope nobody makes waves.” Grabbing Jules tightly, Rome kissed him passionately. “For the first time in my life, I want something more than to make my father proud of me.” He stood, blew a kiss, and ran toward the fence until his beautiful form disappeared in the dark.
Chapter Ten
“ARE you sure you don’t want to wear a necktie?” Federico rocked back on the edge of Rome’s bed, where he sat next to Anthony and, wonder of wonders, Rome’s father. No one in the family had been this interested in him since—ever. Not when he made the honor society, not when he won the 200-meter freestyle in swimming at the club.
Rome faced his brother with a patient frown. “This is supposed to be a casual dinner, not a reception with the queen. Trust me, Yolanda won’t appreciate it if I look too eager. Remember, she asked me out.”
His father tapped a finger against his chin. “Yes, a very good sign, I think. She must have some kind of liaison in mind.”
“I think she’s a little lonely, which is a situation she created for herself by not being friendly. Since I’m not part of her pack, she probably figures I don’t expect anything from her.”
“I’ll be fascinated to hear her motives.”
So will I. He pulled on a lightweight wool sports coat over his jeans and white shirt.
Federico asked, “Are you sure you’re going far enough out of town? We don’t want to start a war.”
Anthony snorted. “At least not until we’ve got plans laid for a takeover.”
His father frowned and held up a hand. “I have no plans for war of any kind. I believe Rome has the intelligence and sex appeal to come out of this with brass ring in hand.”
As Rome felt the warm pride rise, he tamped it down. Shit, do not feel fucking happy. You’re a courtesan being manipulated by a king.
Anthony laughed. “But to grab the brass ring, he’s going to need brass balls.”
Rome forced himself to laugh with his father and brothers. Half of him wanted to run out of the house and never come back. The other half couldn’t suppress curiosity over what Yolanda Montgomery had in mind. Shit, he’d find out soon enough.
It felt odd driving through the big gates at Dark Harbor. Yes, he did it pretty frequently during the college season since he couldn’t do all his classes online, but most summer activities and virtually all social occasions from womb to tomb were celebrated inside the compound—either at the country club or at pack members’ homes. Pack liked to be together, and trooping big groups of them out into human society was asking for trouble. They stood out just enough—a certain vitality and “otherness” that was compounded in groups. Plus young males could be aggressive, a trait that other wolves accepted but didn’t go down well if a pack member with superior strength and speed took off after a human. No matter how you cut it, there were more humans, and eventually that came out bad for the pack. They hadn’t had a wolf/human confrontation in decades, and no one wanted to press their luck. To the human world, they were just snooty, rich bitches who never came out of their gates. Of course, there were not-as-rich werewolf communities, but the nearest was in Connecticut, and Dark Harbor wolves didn’t worry much about them.
