off to create his own pack?

“Maybe,” he breathed into the dark. “Or maybe you’re just being incredibly paranoid.”

But why would Roman—so beautiful and old and sophisticated—otherwise take any interest in someone

like Kevin? He wasn’t anything like Roman. He was a fucking barkeep. He wasn’t rich or ambitious. He

was moderately good looking, but nothing like the chiseled, model-like studs that Roman had chosen over

the centuries as companions.

The idea bothered him more and more. What did he really know about Roman? He was a good lover, but

could he be trusted? He was as much a mystery as this lifestyle was.

He lay there, fretting about these things while music slowly drifted to him. He looked over at the bedside

clock and saw it was nine o’clock in the evening. He was surprised to find he’d spent all day with

Roman. He sighed. Anya’s party. She was putting it on for him. He guessed he was obligated to show up,

even though he’d never been very big on parties.

He got up, dressed, and went down the lighted hall to the balcony that overlooked the common room far

below. The party was already in full swing. A huge trestle of catered food—mostly various meat—

occupied the center of the room, the hot tub was full of slick, naked male bodies writhing around, and the

rest of the space was full of pack members playing video games, smoking pot, or making out on various

pieces of furniture. Eighties power ballads poured out of invisible speakers.

Kevin looked over the festivities, and it occurred to him that other than manning the downstairs, and being

Roman’s guard dogs, he’d never seen any of these guys holding down an actual job. “Must be nice to be

rich and unemployed,” he muttered, not bitterly but with perhaps a touch more annoyance than he’d

expected.

“They’re not unemployed,” Roman said, standing beside him suddenly. Kevin almost jumped at Roman’s

ghostlike power to appear almost anywhere without making a sound. “They’re mine, and they work to

please me. Their job is pleasure.”

Kevin looked over at his lover. “Like paid escorts.”

Roman pursed his lips. “You can see it that way, I suppose. But I like to think of it as a very specific

arrangement. They please me, entertain me, and in return, I take care of their needs.”

“Escorts. Paid whores.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, and Kevin realized he was probably stepping over a line. All that fretting in

bed had gotten to him, soured his mood—not to mention Fenrir’s handiwork. That still preyed on him.

Who wouldn’t be testy? “If I’m in with the pack, does that mean I need to give up my day job and serve

you like they do?”

“Do you like your day job?”

“Yeah,” he answered honestly. “Mostly. I’m a good bartender. I like to work.”

Roman laughed. “I think you’re the first companion I’ve had that’s ever said that.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to work and make your own way in the world?”

Roman smirked. “Absolutely nothing. But every time you open your mouth, you prove yourself a Pedigree.

An alpha in the making.”

“That’s rather elitist, isn’t it?”

“That does not make it untrue.” Roman put his arm around Kevin’s waist and pulled him close. “Why not

come down and mingle, instead of standing apart and philosophizing?”

The food looked good, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d eaten, and the naked men

frolicking in the hot tub reminded him of other insatiable hungers, but instead of merely joining the others,

Kevin headed for the wet bar and planted himself behind it. It was an open bar—Roman Le Feuvre liked

his liquor like he liked his men, strong and loose—but by tending it, at least Kevin felt like he was doing

something other than just living off Roman’s good graces.

Before long, the guys started bellying up, challenging him to make increasingly more difficult cocktails for

them. It was fun, and he found it gave him a chance to talk to each guy, to learn something about them.

They came in all types—gorgeous models, former Wall Street men, aspiring actors, writers, musicians,

tattoo artists, athletes. There were black men and white men and even a few Asian and Hispanic men.

They were funny and interesting, but also a little sad. They were all men who’d had big dreams before

meeting Roman and becoming werewolves. Now they didn’t do anything but party and have fun all the

time.

One hot, muscled, shirtless African-American guy named Rory asked for a Grasshopper, a drink he’d read

about in an old novel. He said he was Jonah’s lover and his former partner in their once successful real

estate firm.

“And you and Jonah gave that all up to be in Roman’s pack?” Kevin said.

Rory shrugged. “Roman has more money than we could ever make in our collective lifetimes.”

“Yeah, but…if you make it, it’s yours. This way, you’re beholden to Roman.” Kevin set the drink down in

front of Rory.

Rory grinned and swallowed the Grasshopper down in one gulp. “Don’t worry, we earn our cash, believe

me. Hey, this is really good, barkeep!”

Kevin grinned back. “I aim to please.”

“If that’s true, maybe you can come please us,” Rory said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He took

Kevin by the hand and led him to the edge of the hot tub, where he started to strip off the shorts he wore.

Kevin had never seen a naked black man before. He was fascinated by Rory’s sleek, sable skin and thick,

purplish cock. Jonah came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Kevin’s waist, working his shirt

out of his jeans and sprinkling soft, ticklish kisses along the side of his neck. Kevin moaned and closed

his eyes as Jonah slid a hand inside his jeans, boldly cupping his balls and giving them a friendly squeeze.

“He coming along?” Rory chuckled in his deep baritone before descending the steps into the frothy water.

“Jesus, yes.” Jonah massaged his cock and balls until Kevin was hard and almost painfully aroused, then

stripped the jeans off him.

Rory looked impressed, which made Kevin feel insanely proud. Rory himself was hung like a horse. “I

want to taste him. Hold him for me.”

Kevin’s heart thudded with excitement somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He’d never been with two

guys at once before.

Jonah led him down the steps and into the hot, fragrant water. He wrapped his arms around Kevin’s waist,

keeping him restrained while Rory went to his knees and licked the spongy, weeping head of Kevin’s

cock. Kevin grunted, the stimulation of hands, hot water and tongue almost too much, but Jonah held him

perfectly still as Rory swallowed him down an inch at a time and wrapped his canine-long tongue around

his shaft. It was obvious Rory had a lot of practice; he easily swallowed Kevin down until his nose was

flat against Kevin’s groin.

Kevin leaned forward so his arms were braced against the edge of the hot tub. Rory sucked hard and

Kevin shuddered at the sharp, erotic sensation. Rory slid his big, soapy hand up Kevin’s ass, parted his