“Just a pup. I figured as much.” They passed multiple portraits of other Romans in different period

clothes. The sight of them made Kevin shiver. “At least you won’t have to worry about changing your

identity for a while.”

Kevin’s head spun with the idea that one day he would have to pretend to die, then come back as his own

son. His own grandson. Great-grandson. It was almost more than he could wrap his head around.

Roman gave him an earnest look. “I take it your parents didn’t prepare you for any of this?”

“I never knew my biological parents. I was adopted from an orphanage in Belfast when I was three years

old. They didn’t know anything about my parents, either, except that they were likely killed during an IRA

bombing during The Troubles. I don’t remember any of it.”

“I see.” Roman nodded.

They’d reached the doors. Kevin could hear the backbeat of music playing in the next room like a party

was going on. “Look, Roman, I don’t know anything about this…lifestyle, underworld, whatever you want

to call it. I didn’t even think there were others like me.”

Roman touched his cheek. His touch instantly calmed the butterflies in Kevin’s stomach. “And where,

exactly, did you think you came from, Golden Eyes, if not from other werewolves?”

“Honestly, I never gave it much thought.” He shrugged, realizing how silly he sounded. “I guess maybe I

thought I was cursed by a gypsy or bitten by a wolf when I was a baby. I know it all sounds stupid.”

“You protect your heart from hope,” Roman said, reading him easily. “It’s understandable. But I promise

what you find in this common room will not only answer all your questions, it will make you less alone.”

He kissed Kevin on the forehead and then reached for the old fashioned latch on the double doors and

flung them open.

Kevin gasped.

***

Chapter Nine

The common room was huge, with cathedral ceilings and skylights, and the furnishings decidedly art deco.

The room was warmly paneled in walnut, with beacon lights on the walls, low brass tables, and soft,

brown leather settees and lounge chairs scattered about. A warm fire brewed in the hearth, despite the

summer weather, and above it loomed a huge mantel with a gigantic painting of satyrs and nymphs dancing

in the forest. Murmuring trance music poured from invisible speakers in the walls, and a full balcony

completely surrounded the room. Kevin could see a number of doors on the second floor leading to what

he could only assume were many bedrooms.

The room was almost too warm, but Kevin quickly discovered why. It was occupied by perhaps a dozen

naked young men, some lounging on the furniture, others on the floor, some sort of half-on, half-off the

furnishings, and not a few enjoying the whirlpool tub that took up almost a quarter of the space. A number

lingered around the giant banquet table laden with fruits, sweets and meat. He saw a lot of different types

of meat.

Kevin scanned the occupants. He saw twosomes and threesomes and even a few foursomes going on.

Roman’s pack was mostly occupied with one of two major activities: eating or fucking. All the writhing,

shining, naked bodies moving together, grunting and growling, was enough to give him a hell of a hard-on.

“Welcome to the pack,” Roman said, indicating the room. He walked Kevin around, introducing him to

various members. Kevin quickly discovered that Roman had quite a ménage of men. Different races,

different types, yet all were young and criminally beautiful—well-muscled, with washboard abs and

well-defined pecs, youthful, chiseled faces, and professionally mussed hair. It looked like an orchard of

eager, model-perfect men all made to perfection. Stepford Gay Men. Kevin almost laughed at the idea.

Someone cut the music and the men gathered around Kevin, sniffing his hair and face. One of the pack, a

handsome, tattooed guy, carefully sniffed down the front of his body. Kevin held absolutely still, worry

nibbling at his insides while the guy scented his crotch. What if they found him unworthy? What if they

simply disliked him?

He felt like he was in high school again, terrified that someone would find out he was gay, or a werewolf.

Afraid they would call him a freak—as silly as that sounded. After all, were they not all gay werewolves

here? One of the bigger guys, a well-tanned Scandinavian with plenty of army muscle, dog tags, and a

blond crew cut, sniffed his hair and said, “He smells like trouble, Roman.”

“Kevin is a Pedigree, Fenrir,” Roman explained. And to Kevin, “A Pedigree is a werewolf who was born

into the life, not bitten.”

“Is that bad?” Kevin asked, eyeing the big, blond man watching him so intently. The tattooed guy kneeling

before him nudged at the front of his jeans, making him harder than ever. He thought about backing up, but

he was completely surrounded by the pack. There was no escape.

“Not at all,” Roman said, glaring at Fenrir until he dropped his eyes. “You must forgive Fenrir’s

rudeness. He’s my lieutenant, my second-in-command, and inclined to suspicion.”

“Just doing my job, Roman,” Fenrir said in response.

“Fenrir is jealous,” came a melodious female voice from across the room. “Roman and I are Pedigrees,

as are you, Kevin, whereas Fenrir was bitten—made by us.”

The pack parted in deference to the speaker—a slim, glamorous woman walking down a long, spiraling

staircase. She was the only woman here. Her short, blonde hair framed her smooth, long face in shining

ringlets, and she wore a long, fur-lined, silk robe and a satiny nightgown underneath. She walked toward

them in four-inch feathered mules. Kevin immediately thought of silver screen actresses like Fay Wray

that he and Hannah used to watch on TV in the afternoon when he was a kid.

The men lowered their eyes as the woman passed. Some went down on one knee, and some even

prostrated themselves before her as she moved between their ranks. Though he didn’t bow, even Roman

was silent as she approached Kevin and took his hand. Her grip was like steel, and her arm was slender

but well-muscled like she was used to working out. “I’m Anya. Roman’s alpha mate and queen of the

pack. Roman has told me much about you, Kevin. I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Kevin looked to Roman, confused by Anya’s statement, but Roman made no move to explain himself. “Yyes,

ma’am,” he stuttered, and Anya laughed.

“I’m old, but I hope I don’t look that old!” She patted self-consciously at her hair.

“No, ma’am! I mean…Miss…Mrs….”

“Anya will do,” she said, rescuing him. “And before tonight is through, I promise all your questions will

be answered.” She clapped her hands smartly and said, “Let the party continue!”

***

Chapter Ten

The boys went back to their partying and Kevin sat on the lounge beside Roman. They watched three

members of the pack making love while Roman explained the differences between a regular werewolf