Page 41 of Cuddles for the Bear
Devon had spent a lot of time on his computer trying to source the brightly colored garments that Wren enjoyed. It wasn’t as easy as he first thought. Wren enjoyed color, but it was the soft material against his skin that really made him smile. As Devon enjoyed feeling that same softness every time Wren came into his arms for a hug, he could see why that was a good idea. However, there had been some items, such as hats and shoes, that hadn’t been so easy to find.
Most of the options came from large department stores, where the quality was cheap and it showed in the texture and coarseness of the materials. Devon had found a few handmade items that Wren had loved, but finding anything truly unique wasn’t easy.
Wren, who was now set up with his own computer, had been doing some research of his own. Instead of looking for clothes directly, he got ideas and inspiration from various sites, and then went on to teach himself numerous methods for coloring fabric and adding designs and color to plain items.
When Devon saw how serious he was about doing this, he and the other men got together to help rearrange parts of the large workshop to create a small studio for Wren. Even Python joined in, grumbling because he had to move two of his cars, but withinhalf a day, the space was made, complete with a door for when Levi and Calvin were using large saws and electrical sanders.
Wren was there almost every day, trying out different techniques, although there was a lot of fun to be had when Pax and Flint joined in. Devon would chuckle when Wren would come back to the house with paint in his hair and splashes of color on his face. Wren’s bright smile and shining eyes as he would ask if Devon wanted to join him in the shower to help him clean off added to the fun.
As expected, Wren was there now, his head bent over a half-painted sneaker that had originally been white. “Did your meeting go well?” he asked, not looking up from what he was doing.
“It did,” Devon said. “But there were a few matters raised that you and I need to discuss. I’m making sure I’m not hiding anything from you, hence the need for discussion. I thought we should go back to the house, so we have some privacy.”
“Oh, does it affect me? I thought it was work-related.” Wren put down his shoe and dropped his paintbrush into a pot of water, jiggling it so the paint on it wouldn’t dry. Hopping off his stool, he came over and grabbed Devon’s hand.
Bending over, Devon brushed his lips across Wren’s curls. “I got some of the bacon sandwiches you enjoy from Gwen’s,” he said. “They’re waiting for us at the house if you’re keen on lunch.”
“We’d better run then,” Wren said, laughing. “If Storm catches a whiff of those, they’ll be gone before we get back there.”
Devon grinned. Wren wasn’t wrong. “Storm took Pax out for a shopping expedition, apparently, so we don’t have to worry about him today.”
The Alley was surprisingly quiet. Even Flint had been staying inside his house instead of his greenhouse for the past few days. Cyrus had mentioned he was keeping an eye on him. Flint’s last job had apparently raised some unpleasant memories for the young snake shifter, and Cyrus said he just needed a few days’ rest.
Assassin work had picked up, which was never a good sign, but Cyrus had called him to discuss the first job Devon was given an option on since he’d claimed Wren. And it was Wren who Devon needed to speak to about the job now, for more reasons than one. Devon heard music coming from Flint’s house as they went past, so hopefully that meant his friend was out of bed and feeling a bit better.
Sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, initially, the silence was only broken by the sound of sandwich munching. Wren was clearly hungry, and Devon knew he’d need his sustenance too. Although the whole time they were eating, Devon was running a dozen different scripts for their upcoming discussion in his head. The issue with that was that he had no way of knowing how Wren would respond to anything he had to say.
Finishing his sandwiches, Devon folded the paper bag they had come in and reached for his cup of coffee. “Wren, babe, you and I have never really talked about my work before.”
Wren looked up, his cheeks still full of bacon. He quickly swallowed and shook his head. “I didn’t think it had anything to do with me, to be honest,” he said. “I know what you do. You told me you only kill bad people. Is that what the meeting was about today? Do you have a job?”
Devon nodded. “Yes, I do. The guys have been really good about covering my spot on the roster while we’ve been settling intogether, which is really good of them. But this job was offered to me specifically, and after hearing the details, I felt I needed to take it. This one’s personal.”
He hoped Wren would pick up on what he was alluding to. Wren had learned a lot in the past month about trusting his instincts and their bond.
“Is this a job that has something to do with me? If it is, you know you promised you wouldn’t hide anything about it from me.”
“I wouldn’t have kept this from you anyway, babe, because it does directly concern you. My next job is in Jorgenson.”
Wren’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Devon hurried to explain. “Remember when Cyrus did as you asked, and let you know that the people who raised you were already dead?”
They died of natural causes. Cyrus had to talk to Wren about it because the agency wanted to know if Wren wanted them to retrieve a DNA sample, to determine whether Wren was biologically related to them or not. It had been hypothesized that possibly the couple had offspring, and one of them might have been Wren’s natural parent. Wren wasn’t interested, and the agency determined, given the lack of information about chameleons, that the chances of Wren being mixed species were basically zero to none.
Wren nodded. “That means you have to be going after the pastor?”
It was a logical assumption. Wren had never mentioned anyone else who specifically lived in the town. “The agency has determined the man who has lived and operated as the pastor there for the last fifty years is a vampire. They’re very long-lived, very charismatic when they want to be, with the abilities to trance or hold humans, in particular, in their thrall.”
“That could explain why everyone listened to his sermons.” Wren was picking at the paper bag his sandwich had been in.
“The agency has also found concrete proof the pastor is part of a child trafficking ring – the same one the snake shifter came across when he was looking for someone like you. The vampire has contacts across the whole country, and even in Europe.”
“Sounds like he’s been busy.” Wren nodded slowly. “I don’t know what you want me to say about that. I’m glad he’s been investigated. Are you going to kill him?”
“Yep.” Devon’s bear was itching to do it, but Wren didn’t need to know how badly he wanted it. “The police or federal authorities would be no match for a paranormal rogue. The agency felt I should be offered first option on the job, and I said yes. It will involve a bit of travel. It’s a four-hour flight from Bozeman to Omaha, Nebraska, and then Jorgenson is about a two-to-two-and-a-half hour drive from there. I’m not sure if you understand, but I need to do this. I need to be the person who takes him off this earth.”
“You’ll be telling me it’s part of a shifter’s protective instincts next. You don’t have to justify your decisions to me.” Wren got up from the table and went over and poured himself a mug of coffee. That in itself was unusual because Wren was more of a hot chocolate type of person. Devon noticed but didn’t say anything. His mate would need time to process, not only the realities of Devon’s job, but his intended target.
When Wren came and sat back down again, Devon said, “You don’t have to come with me. Cyrus suggested it was best that you didn’t. You could stay here. There’re always plenty of people around to watch out for you.”
