Page 77 of Golden Eagle

“Someone you turned?” Dante hurried along after him, sounding fascinated. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.” He shrugged out of his robe, tossed it over the still-rumpled bed, and fished his underwear off the floor.

“Well. Perhaps I could.”

When he’d tugged the boxer-briefs into place, Alexei looked toward him, and found him with fingertips drumming together, looking hopeful. “You want to come with me?” he asked, skeptical.

“Well…yes. I do.”

He debated a moment, as he stepped into his jeans. The risks were few, he decided, except perhaps to Dante, who Nikita might take an instant disliking to and threaten in some way.

That’s not fair, his conscience whispered.

Then there was the issue of furthering the intimacy that he and Dante had begun to establish today. Did he introduce him to the pack? And how? He’d never had so many consistent connections as he did now, and, frankly, he wasn’t sure what to make of them.

In the end, it was Dante’s hopefulness that decided him. The way he looked, tousled, and tired-eyed, but with his lips pressed together and a blush coming up in his cheeks; like a child on the verge of bouncing on his toes.

“Fine,” he said, and Dante actually clapped.

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