“We’ve got a case to work on,” Patrick finally said.
Casale allowed the change of subject without a fight. Patrick drew down his magic, the silence ward fading away around them. Sound hit his ears again, and Patrick shoved aside his worry about pack problems in favor of doing his job.
2
“Another scotch?” the Gucci salesperson asked with a polite smile on her face, crystal decanter in hand. She smelled only slightly of fear, which was a refreshing change considering Jono usually got overwhelmed with that scent in close quarters whenever he went somewhere without his sunglasses.
Still, it tainted the alcohol.
Jono glanced over at the cut-crystal glass resting on the stylish table by the sofa he sat on in the private fitting room they’d been escorted to upon arrival. He’d drunk almost all of the first glass he’d been offered, the taste of the expensive drink still on his tongue, souring in the back of his throat.
“No, thanks,” Jono said.
She nodded and moved on to ask the same question of Leon Hernandez, who had no compunction about taking another glass. Marek’s was only half-empty since it was his turn up on the tailoring dais for the final fitting of his three-piece wedding suit. Patrick would’ve been there, except he’d been assigned a case yesterday and was currently working. His final fitting would have to be rescheduled, but Gucci’s fashion director had said it wouldn’t be a problem.
Apparently money could make the world revolve around you, as Jono was witnessing when it came to Marek and Sage’s upcoming nuptials. Being a tech billionaire meant no expense was spared for the intimate ceremony planned for the end of the month. That included being able to dictate the schedule of a luxury fashion house designer.
“You should have another one. It’s not like it’ll impair you from putting on your suit,” Leon said as he sniffed appreciatively at his drink.
“Had quite a bit last night at work,” Jono said.
Leon nudged the small platter of hearty steak sandwiches Marek had asked be available for today’s fitting closer to Jono. “Then eat something. You can’t have got much sleep last night.”
Jono picked up half a sandwich. “I got enough.”
Truth be told, it wasn’t much, but the hour-long nap he’d snatched in bed with Patrick that morning after closing up the bar had been worth it. Holding Patrick in his arms always put Jono in a better mood these days.
Leon eyed him, brown eyes full of worry, just like his scent. He was the co-leader of the Tempest pack, and his partner, Emma Zhang, was Sage’s matron of honor. Leon would stand with Marek as his best man, and Jono would be walking Sage down the aisle. Their wedding party was small because neither were fans about putting their lives out there for the public to consume.
Unfortunately, privacy was becoming difficult to come by. Ever since Jono and Patrick had delegated Emma as their proxy dire while they’d been in Europe, she’d lost some of her hard-fought anonymity. The encroaching media spotlight was beginning to widen onto PreterWorld, the social media company Marek owned and which Emma and Leon both worked at. The business was profitable, but Jono wondered how much longer it would be before its stock took a nosedive because of their personal lives.
“You’re next, Jono,” Marek said.
Jono watched as Marek was helped out of his suit jacket, the item in question handled carefully. Assistants divested him of the rest of his clothes, the suit needing no further alterations. Jono eyed where his hung from a rolling rack, assistants already working to take it out of its garment bag. He swallowed the last bit of scotch in his glass and stood.
“Stand here and strip, please,” Terry said. The designer pointed at the dais without looking at Jono in favor of loudly directing his staff about as if he were a conductor. Jono could still hear how fast his heart was beating, the hint of fear mixing with his sweat. Terry was good at hiding his fear, but he was still uncomfortable around werecreatures.
Jono didn’t mind stripping down to his underwear. He wouldn’t have cared if he needed to be naked. Most werecreatures didn’t, and Marek had learned not to be over the years after joining the Tempest pack.
He passed his clothes to one of the assistants, nostrils flaring slightly at the brief hint of attraction seeping through a couple of harsher scents. Better than fear, but that wasn’t saying much. Jono knew people were attracted to his body until they saw his eyes. Few people wanted him after that realization.
Patrick had never been scared of him, and that had been as much an attention-getter as his cocky smirk had been across the bar counter. Their first meeting last year had been an unmitigated disaster in the face of a soultaker attack, but they’d sorted themselves out. These days, Jono couldn’t imagine his life without Patrick in it. Soulbond aside, they were never going to walk away from each other, and helping out with Sage and Marek’s wedding had got him thinking about his own future with Patrick. They were already bound to each other, having promised to never leave, but Jono wouldn’t mind seeing Patrick wearing a wedding band.
Maybe it could happen someday in an unknown future where Patrick’s soul debt was paid and the war dogging their heels was over.
Jono’s mouth quirked a bit as he stepped into the trousers an assistant handed him. Should probably look at rings first.
The thought was an idle one, but nothing would come of it right now. Jono let it fade, focusing instead on being moved about by the designer to check the fit of the suit he finally had on. The charcoal-gray color was paired with a natural green tie and handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket to match the wedding colors. The style was sleek and classic, with little embellishments. The material was luxurious and didn’t itch his skin, the tailoring masterful, and the overall fit pretty much perfect for a wedding.
Just not a fight.
The private fitting room was located on the third floor, in a space designed to cater to rich clientele. The stairs leading up to their level had been roped off from the general public on the first floor. Multiple work areas and several private fitting rooms filled the space, and the door to theirs cracked open, the heartbeats behind it calm. Jono didn’t think anything of it until the aconite hit his nose, burning his eyes as he snapped his head around.
“Get down!” he snarled.
Jono didn’t wait for people to listen, knowing most people’s reactions were delayed if they didn’t outright panic immediately. He grabbed the two assistants nearest him and yanked them to the ground, lashing out with his leg to knock the designer’s feet out from under him with as gentle a blow as he could. Marek had already dropped to the floor while Leon had body tackled the people closest to him.
Silver bullets dipped in aconite cut through the air where everyone had been standing. Jono rolled off the dais, already shifting, his brand-new designer suit tearing open at every seam. The flash of agony disappeared as the werevirus turned off pain receptors in his nerves for the shift. That didn’t stop his brain from processing the pressure of bones breaking and skin splitting as Jono shifted from human to wolf in seconds.
He’d gotten faster in the last year, but he almost wasn’t fast enough. Two Krossed Knight hunters shoved their way into the private fitting room, dressed like upscale shoppers. Except they weren’t carrying money, but weapons, the pistols in their hands aimed unerringly at Jono.