Dana Bell: Howl for Me

“No. Not for a while.”

“I love you, son. Please, never doubt that. Maybe someday you can forgive me.”

Not yet, he couldn’t. Maybe not ever. “We’ll see.”

The phone call ended with neither of them saying good-bye.

He poured himself another shot, put the bottle away and ambled over to his huge leather sofa. He flopped down into it, the still unfamiliar scent of new leather and furniture polish making him wince. When Logan had told him he’d have his own million-dollar condo in this building right off of Rittenhouse Square, he’d been thrilled. He’d always been an uptown boy with a downtown budget, so he’d barely waved good-bye before shutting the door on his tiny studio apartment and moved into what was supposed to be paradise. He’d taken the key with the wolf’s head and hadn’t looked back.

Then he’d opened the front door.

Everything in his new condo was made of dark, sturdy, thick woods, thick leather upholstery and tile. The chocolate brown leather sofa was flanked on either side by two carved wooden chairs with leather cushions. Each chair was carved with stylized Norwegian wolf’s heads on the ends of the arms. The gray and tan slate tile floors complimented the mocha colors of the walls and the darkness of the furniture. The big flat-screen TV had two video game consoles hooked up to it with four controllers each. They rested on another hand-carved piece of furniture that reminded him of Norway. This one had boats and dragons and shit all over it.

Jeff loved his roots, but c’mon. It was a little too much Norway in his living room. He had the weirdest urge to put a horned helmet on his head, march his ass down to Jordan’s condo and threaten Logan with his spear.

With the way his luck was going Logan would take him up on it and Jordan and Kir would kill Jeff.

Still. He’d seriously consider giving his left nut for some mid-century modern.

He propped his feet up on the hand-painted chest that served as a coffee table. From behind him the sound of deep, bone-rattling snores emitted from his bedroom, proof that Mr. Perfect wasn’t quite so perfect after all. Jeff rolled his eyes and downed the second shot. “Why does this shit keep happening to me?”

He laughed wearily. “Good grief, Charlie Brown. You’re a fucking idiot.” Jeff got up and opened the chest, pulling out a blanket. There was no way he could crawl into bed with Fenris sleeping there. No fucking way. The guy could have a dream about chasing deer and wake up with a nasty Jeff taste in his mouth.

Unlike Little Red Riding Hood, there’d be no cutting him out whole from the wolf’s belly.

Jeff curled up under the blanket and shuddered. He’d have to convince Logan to get Fenris his own condo. No way was Jeff living with the beast for any longer than he absolutely had to, cuddle-worthy though he might be. Jeff closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

Fenris was having the best dream he’d ever had in all his long centuries. In it, an absolutely gorgeous redhead came to his cave, pulled the sword from his jaws and declared himself Fen’s mate. His accent was strange, but Fen was used to adapting quickly. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that he spoke to Tyr with trust and affection. That he seemed to trust Tyr was something Fen would have to work on.

Tyr was the last man Fen would ever trust. The bastard would surely betray Fen’s mate.

But the man, the beautiful man, had smelled so damn good Fen had allowed Jeff to lead him from his prison. He still hadn’t figured out how Jeff had managed to get Gleipnir to free its enchanted hold on him, but in the end it didn’t matter. Fenris was free, and he had his mate by his side.

Except he didn’t.

Fenris opened his eyes and stared into the strange, dimly lit room. He lifted his head cautiously, sniffing for the warm, cinnamon scent of his mate. He let out a low growl when he realized he’d been in the bed alone for hours on end. Fen crawled out of the bedding and glided through the doorway. It would take him a while to remember all of the strange names for the rooms in this dwelling, but Fen knew it would be worth it. If this was how his mate wished to live, then Fen would see to it that they remained here for however long Jeff wished.

He followed the scent of his mate to the leather sofa, growling when he found the man curled up there. This wouldn’t do. Not at all. Fen’s mate belonged with Fen, not lying on cold leather under a worn blanket. Fen would pull down the sky for this man’s blanket, would kill the sun herself if he got too hot. So why did he continue to lie out here every night?

Fen bent down and smelled something familiar on his mate’s breath. It had been a long time since he’d tasted akevitt . He was delighted his mate had it hidden somewhere in his dwelling. He’d have to tease the location out of him later.

Fen picked Jeff up and carried him into the “bedroom”, careful not to wake him. Whatever had driven him to drink, Fen would see it resolved. He’d not have his mate be disturbed like this.

Jeff twitched as Fen placed him on the bed, muttering incoherently as Fen carefully undressed him.

“ Jeg er din forlovede. ”

Fen smiled at the slurred, barely audible words. “ Ja. Jeg er din forlovede .” At least he acknowledges our mating when he dreams. He curled around his sleeping mate, warming him with his body heat. Jeff felt so small against him, so cold.

He’d warm his little mate, keep him safe from everything the world had thrown at him. Neither Grimm nor Frigg nor any enchanted weapon would harm a hair on his little redhead.

This man needed Fen, and Fen would do his best to provide whatever he desired for the rest of their lives.

Fen buried his nose in his mate’s hair and, with that spicy-sweet scent in his nostrils, fell back into a contented sleep.

Jeff smiled, warm and comfortable in the cocoon of his lover’s arms. Soft kisses rained down on his neck. The whiskers of his lover’s chin sending shivers down his spine as they scraped across his skin. “Mmm.”

His neck was licked. “ Du kan smake godt .”

Jeff froze as he realized just who was sleeping in his bed. “What the hell does that mean?”

His neck was licked again. “Mmm. You taste good.”

He tried not to shiver, but damn. Fenris had figured out one of his hot spots without even trying. “Why am I not on the sofa?”

“You were cold.”

He glared over his shoulder at Fenris. “I’m pretty sure I had a nice, comfy blanket over me.”

Fenris shrugged. “Then I was cold.”

“You had my comforter.”

“But I did not have your comfort.”

Jeff grabbed his head. “Ow. Oh, ow.”

“What?”

The panic in Fenris’s voice almost made him feel bad. “That joke. It hurt so badly.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and dug his fingers into Jeff’s sides, tickling him.

Jeff bucked, desperate to get away from the man who’d just found his second biggest weakness, and fell off the bed with a thump. “Ow.” Now his head and his ass hurt, not to mention his pride.

“Are you all right?”

Yup. The big bastard was laughing at him. “You know, paybacks are a bitch.”

“Paybacks. What are those?”

Fenris wasn’t laughing anymore. If he didn’t know better Jeff would swear he looked jealous. “You know, payback. You got me, now I have to get you.”

The wolf’s expression turned heated. “Hmm. Perhaps payback isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

“All righty then.” Jeff hopped up. “Coffee sounds good.” He grabbed his jeans… When had his jeans come off? He could have sworn he went to bed—er, sofa—fully dressed. He felt up his naked chest. Looking down, he realized his T-shirt had been under his jeans. He must have been really out of it for Fenris to get him practically naked without Jeff feeling it. He stared at Fenris, trying to ignore how absolutely hot the man looked all tousled from sleep and covered in Jeff’s sheets. “Boundaries. I has them.” Fenris tilted his head. “This!” Jeff shook his jeans at him. “Getting me mostly naked without permission is not cool.”