Page 104 of Golden Eagle

Like Gustav.

And Nikita, Alexei thought with another tightening of his nerves, had not one scrap of charm.

~*~

Eyes shut, head tipped back, Sasha beside him and the sun warming his face, Nikita thought he might fall asleep leaning against the front of the precinct. But then he caught the scent of wolves, and came instantly awake.

“You.” He pushed off the wall, and put himself in front of Sasha as Will Scarlet and Much the Miller’s Son approached.

They pulled up several paces away.

Much rolled his eyes and muttered, “Told you.” He turned away from them all.

Will held both hands up, placating. “Trina called me.”

“Shewhat?” he growled.

Sasha touched his arm. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”

Nikita caught the edge of a smirk on Much’s face, and growled again, low.

“We’re not trying to interfere with pack dynamics,” Will said, and he didn’t just sound earnest, but smelled it, too. Not a trace of anxiety – the shithead. “But Trina reached out. We’re all on the same side here.”

Sasha’s hand tightened on Nikita’s arm, a quick reflex, a staying motion.

Nikita said, “And what side is that?”

“The one that’s working against the Ingraham Institute.”

~*~

Lanny sat down in a chair in the break room, put his head between his knees, and concentrated on breathing for long minutes. Thought consciously about pulling his growl back, and retracting his fangs, and trying to stuff his rampaging instincts – still new, raw, and unwieldy – back into some kind of manageable compartment.

His heartbeat slowed gradually; it had eased some while Trina was talking to him. While she had her hands on him, skin-to-skin contact. When he could tell that she was whole and unhurt, that the blood on the ankles of her boots belonged to a feral wolf, and not to her. Then he’d been able to dial back some of his panic. But as soon as she sent him away – and walking off had been one of the most wildly difficult things he’d ever done, leaving his mate alone with someone frowning at her – his pulse had accelerated again.

He was shaking, still. He should be with her. He should put himself between her and whatever threatened her and bare his teeth, growl from deep in his throat.

This went way beyond general machismo, he knew. This was pure vampire instinct, and he was in so, so far over his head.

When he felt mostly in control of himself, he lifted his head. Delgado stood against the opposite wall, both hands around a coffee mug, staring at him with no small amount of trepidation.

He swallowed, throat jumping. “You good?”

Lanny took a breath. “Yeah. I think.”

Delgado’s brows lifted. “What was that?”

Lanny dropped his gaze to his hands, where his fingers were laced, the fresh bruises on top of the old scars on his knuckles nearly healed. “Just worried, you know.”

A beat. Delgado said, “Listen, I love my partner like a brother. But.” Another hesitation. Word would spread; they would all be hesitant now. Maybe even frightened. “That’s not what it looked like.”

Lanny lifted his head again, and sent him a steady look. He intended it to be steady, anyway; one of his best interrogation faces. But Delgado shrank down into his shirt collar a fraction. Scared. “What did it look like?” he asked, levelly.

“Kinda like you and her are sleeping together. Kinda like you’re outta your goddamn mind.”

Lanny snorted. “Which do you think it is?”

“Both.”

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