He drove a couple of blocks into Havilland territory but still far from the estate. Getting to the property required skill and luck. If someone recognized him, making it back to the car before he got flattened seemed unlikely. Still, he couldn’t shift because that would leave him naked, and trying to carry on a conversation with Jules Havilland while his cock bobbed in front of him—or more likely stuck out like a fishing pole—didn’t seem optimal. He snorted at his own understatement. But the closer he got to the big house, the more likely someone was to spot his car.

  He parked on a side street under a tree with low-hanging branches and near some bushes. It provided cover without looking like the car was hidden. Slipping on a baseball cap he had in his back seat, he slid out the driver’s side and melded into the bushes, then started jogging across the greenbelt as if he were out for his evening run. The cap covered his shiny, dark Siracusa hair, and beyond that, he could blend in as long as no one got too close.

  It took fifteen minutes of running to get to the back fence and find the metal door. He stared at it. No. Sneaking inside again is asking for trouble, plus it’s really threatening. The fence didn’t look too formidable, as long as nothing wolf-eating met him on the other side. He glanced around, grabbed a tree branch, and pulled himself up the side of the fence, then kicked his feet over the top and let go. Sailing through the air, he crossed his mental fingers, landed in a crouch, and waited. No sound. So far.

  Across a wide expanse of badly kept lawn, the mansion stood tall, dark, and formidable. Lights only shone in a few rooms. Hunching down, he duck-walked a little closer and tried to superimpose what he knew of the inside floor plan on the external view. Likely Jules’s rooms would be on the right wing of the house.

  Staying in the trees as long as he reasonably could, he skirted the grounds until he saw a balcony on the second floor that must be close to the part of the house where he’d seen Jules come out into the hall. Okay, now what’s your plan?

  Crawling through the balcony window wasn’t exactly nonconfrontational. He plopped on the grass and pressed his back against the trunk of a tree. Maybe pebbles on the window? And if it’s not his room, dumbass? It made sense he’d have the one balcony on this side of the house. Do I risk it? He’s probably still out with Asshole Anderson. Man, that idea nauseated him. He closed his eyes and bumped the back of his head against the scratchy bark.

  Lights shone against his closed lids, and he flicked his eyes open. Somebody’s in that room. He rolled up to a crouch and stared at the french doors. Like he willed it, one of them opened and out walked Jules.

  Whoa. Rome sucked a breath, and his alpha-advantage eyes focused clearly on the scene, even though he was many feet away. Jules’s fair hair hung to his shoulders, shimmering in the moonlight. He’d left his shirt open, and the white fabric barely contrasted with his pale chest—the chest that showed off those surprising muscles. He leaned on the parapet and sighed. Though hardly a whisper, Rome heard it clearly. He slipped a step closer.

  Jules’s head snapped up. “Is there someone there?”

  Wow. Could he hear that? Think fast. “But soft. What light through yonder window breaks?” Rome stepped out from under the tree branches and stopped. If Jules was going to scream, he needed a head start on the pursuers.

  Instead, Jules gave that head cock, full of curiosity and unselfconscious charm. “I’ve always liked the sun.”

  Rome let his smile break free. “I thought when I saw you that your hair looks like a great fall of sunlight.”

  “How poetic.”

  Rome walked slowly to the foot of the balcony and gazed up at Jules. Wild overgrown vines grew on trellises, some of them hanging away from the wall with the weight of the unkempt greenery. Rome pointed toward the window in front of him. “Is there someone sleeping inside?”

  “No. There’s no one else in my end of the wing on either floor.”

  “How nice.”

  Jules rested his forearms on the balcony rail and leaned his chin on them. “When you broke in the other night—and I still don’t know how you did that—you said you wanted to be my friend and that you were worried about me being a pawn in a political game.”

  “Yes. That’s all true.”

  “Umm. But I don’t have any friends who recite Shakespeare to me. At least not Romeo and Juliet.” He smiled ever so slightly.

  Rome’s heart beat hard. “And what does that suggest to you?”

  “That the youngest son of the rich, powerful, and very homophobic Siracusa clan… is gay.”

  Chapter Seven

  THERE it was. The nightmare of nightmares. His enemy knew his secret. Why couldn’t he stop smiling? Rome grinned. “Oh, what makes you think that? Maybe I just like the classics.”

  “Yep, that’s the first thing I said when I saw you in the kitchen. A true classicist.”

  “You did, huh?” Rome pulled a flowering vine from its trellis and wrapped it around his hand.

  “Yes, I thought your eyes were as I like them and that you end very, very well.”

  Rome barked a laugh and slapped a hand over his mouth, glancing around to be sure no guards were suddenly running toward him.

  A crease popped between Jules’s eyes. “Don’t worry. My father can no longer afford much security.”

  “I noticed. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged but looked totally miserable doing it. “Not as sorry as I am. I get to give up my life to restock the family coffers.”

  “That’s total bullshit.”

  “You’re not the first to say so.”

  Rome threw the vine toward the wall. “I think my father’s cooking up plans for me as well. But mine will be with a female.”

  “What the fuck? You mean he doesn’t know you’re gay?”

  “Weren’t you the one who described my pack as ‘homophobic’? Very aptly, I might add.”

  “Well, fuck, Rome, I figured they just hid it from the rest of the community. It didn’t cross my mind you lived in the fur closet.”

  He kicked at a rock partly buried in the grass. “That’s me. Half wolf. Half pussy.”

  “From what I’ve seen, pussies are more powerful than wolves.”

  “You have a lot of personal experience?” He cocked half a smile.

  “Aside from the female who birthed me, none whatsoever. You?”

  “A little. Being in the closet necessitates a lot of performance capability.”

  “And how is your performance?” Jules gave him a snarky grin.

  “Sorely lacking.”

  “So how the fuck do you plan to marry a female?”

  He shook his head and released a long exhale. “I guess I’d have to let her in on the secret. I mean, my family is hella rich, so there’d be compensations for her.”

  “And you’re going to spend the rest of your life pretending to be straight and… what? Banging boys on the side?” He stood and ran a hand through his sunlit hair. “Man, that sounds worse than my life.”

  Rome plopped onto his butt on the grass. “I know.” He looked up into Jules’s eyes, glittering with reflected moonlight. “What about Anderson? Is he tolerable?”

  “Define ‘tolerable.’”

  “Is he as nice as he is rich?”

  “He doesn’t seem awful so far, but he’s proprietary enough now that I’m seriously worried about what will happen after the I-dos.” He shook himself like a—wolf. “But bottom line is, I don’t want to marry somebody I didn’t pick, especially not a male with enormous financial power over me and my family.” He walked a few steps, then stalked back, his voice rising. “And I don’t want to be a part of the pack, and I don’t want to give up my life, and—” A sob escaped, and he doubled over.

  “Damn.” Rome jumped up and stared around until he saw a trellis that looked stuck to the building. He grabbed it and started to climb. The thing shook and shifted under his weight but held. At the top, he swung his leg over the parapet and landed on his feet. In two steps, he wrapped Jules in his arms.

  “Whoa. Wolfgods, how did you get up here?”

  “Climbed. Shh, don’t cry. Maybe we can think of something.”

  Jules let Rome rock him against his shoulder. Though Jules had an inch or two on him, they were close enough that cuddling wasn’t impossible. Jules felt warm and surprisingly solid. Best of all was his scent, like orange blossoms. Oh man, Rome loved that. “How come you smell so good?”

  “No idea.”

  “Like a tall, beautiful Orange Julius.”

  Jules pulled back and gave Rome a skeptical look. “Uh, how do I feel about being compared to a frothy drink?”

  “Hey, it’s sweet and creamy. And remember I said ‘beautiful.’”

  “There is that.” He smiled weakly and blinked his red eyes. “Why are you doing this?” He spoke so softly Rome barely heard it, even inches from his lips.

  Rome looked down but still kept his hands on Jules’s arms. “I guess partly I feel a kinship with your situation. Alphas’ sons being manipulated for the good of the pack. I’m not the oldest, so there I have it better. But they know you’re gay, so that’s your advantage. Regardless, it’s crappy beyond belief.”

  “And the other part?”

  Rome looked up. “What?”

  “You said you partly felt a kinship. What’s the other part?”

  Rome gazed slightly up into Jules’s eyes and then let his stare travel down to his lips and back. Not moving too fast, he slid his hand into Jules’s fall of hair, leaned in, and locked their lips together.

  Holy shit! He’d kissed Jules to prove a point, but joke on him! Fire seared up his spine, his balls clanged a hallelujah, and his cock sprang to attention. Jules made a moaning sound, and that sealed Rome’s fate. He dissolved into the kiss, letting his hands roam over Jules’s head and back, then down to a so-firm ass. Weird little noises, not at all cool, escaped his throat, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t get his tongue in far enough. He wanted to lick every inch of Jules’s flesh, shift and use his wolf’s tongue on Jules’s fur. Face it: he wanted to fuck him on every surface in Dark Harbor and then start on the surrounding cities.

  It felt like Jules might sign on for the ride. He moaned and writhed against Rome, arms and hands everywhere and his leg sliding up Rome’s to hook around his backside and bring their cocks together. Oh yeah! His balls squeezed.

  “Wait!” Jules pushed away and stumbled back a couple of feet. Rome reached for him, but Jules put up his hands. “This is a crappy idea guaranteed to make us both more miserable. As I marry Donald Anderson, the last thing I want to know is that there’s someone I really want to be with.” He shook his head. “That’s too much to bear.”

  Rome’s breath came hard and fast. “So what? You’re just going to give up? Marry the bastard?”

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Damn, I don’t know. Maybe we could run away together.”

  “Right.” Jules leaned on the balcony parapet. “Dark Harbor is the most powerful wolf enclave in America, and our families are Dark Harbor. Any wolf who sees us will send us back.”

  “We’ll go out of the country.”

  “Do you have a passport?” Jules turned, leaned his elbows on the wall, and stared at Rome. Rome’s expression must have defined it all, because Jules said, “Me either. My father very carefully saw to it I never got one. I say I lived my own life in New York, but it was carefully monitored by my father. I had as much freedom as he wanted me to have. I realize now it was fattening me up for the kill.”

  “How do you mean? What did he have to gain by keeping you there?”

  He sighed. “My father didn’t want me around Dark Harbor that much because he didn’t want to remind the pack that I’m gay. By keeping me away, they knew about me in theory, but when he really sprang me on everyone, it got to be as the great savior of the Havilland pack. He knew it would be tough for pack members to object.”

  “Even so, some did. I saw them walk out.”

  “Yeah. But few have the balls to turn down Donald’s money, even though they know my father will squander it.” He pushed to standing. “He’s been living off their tribute for years and keeps demanding more.”

  “Why don’t they get rid of him?”

  “Old founding-fathers’ blood. We’re pure Havilland. We go back to the beginning. The first creation of the wolf. The pack has been taught that nothing’s more valuable.”

  “Divine right of kings.”

  “Exactly. Our ancestors started in the caves around Dark Harbor. The mansion’s built over a couple of them. Some of the pack are glad I’m gay so I can marry Anderson, get his money, and not produce any kids since he’s from lower-class stock.”

  “Like me.”

  He glanced at Rome and nodded. “Sadly, yes. That’s one of the reasons my clan hates yours. It pisses them off royally that your pack’s so successful. They figure the wolfgods should be punishing you and putting you in your place.” He chuckled harshly.

  “So that’s it? We can’t run away?” A huge lump lodged in Rome’s throat.

  Jules reached out and laid a hand on Rome’s arm. “You don’t even know me. Yes, we’ve got some chemistry. You can’t use that as the basis for spending your life with me.”

  “Wanna bet?” He wrapped his hand over Jules’s.

  “Come on, be serious.”

  “I am. At least we’d have chosen each other. We could start out together, and then if you end up hating me, we could go our separate ways. Either way, you could have your life back.”

  “Right, jumping at every shadow I think might be Ty Montgomery? Even if we could blend into human society, they’d find us. Hell, wolves may be docile most of the time, but don’t give them prey to track. Then they’re relentless.”

  Sadly true. “But once you marry Anderson and I marry whomever my father picks, that’s it. Tied for life.”

  Jules brought his other hand to Rome’s face. “Hey, I’m glad I got to kiss you once.”

  Rome blinked against the heat behind his eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips softly against Jules’s. Warm and distant. Fuck. Sure felt like a goodbye kiss.

  As he climbed down the trellis, he glanced up and saw Jules drop his face in his hand.

  ROME walked into the family home and headed for the staircase. His phone buzzed. Damn, how did his father do that? The text read Please come to my office.

  He made a noisy breath since he was in the entry and could get away with it. No way he wanted to talk to his father tonight. He wanted to lie down and half mourn/half plot a way to be with Jules. Shit.

  Striding back through the elegant if a little ostentatious mansion, he opened the door to a back hall and walked into his father’s office. Offices, actually. Benedetto ran most of their vast empire from these rooms, although Siracusa Enterprises had buildings in New York, San Francisco, London, and Shanghai.

  Rome heard voices from the room at the end of the hall that was more study than office.

  His father called, “We’re down here, Rome.”

  When Rome looked around the corner into the office, he found his father and his grandfather Lawrence sitting opposite each other on the comfortable couches at the center of the room. Rome smiled. He loved Grandfather Lawrence. The old man seemed to have concerns that weren’t totally about business and making a profit. “Good evening.”

  “Come sit.”

  Lawrence patted the couch next to him, and Rome crossed and perched on the seat, then gave his grandfather a kiss on the cheek. Their old country roots meant they kissed more than a lot of wolf families. Kissing reminded him of Jules, and he tamped down his reaction to the memory. Literally down.

  His father said, “Did you have a nice evening, Rome?”

  “Nice enough, sir. I just went to the club with Merrick.”

  “Were the Havillands there?”

  “In force. I noticed Ty Montgomery sitting with Gerard Havilland’s son and his fiancé.”

  His father frowned. “Ridiculous embarrassment.”

  Rome bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from screaming. “It seemed almost like Ty was looking after the heir. I guess they wouldn’t want their meal ticket to get away.” It came out more bitter than he intended.

  His father raised an eyebrow. “You think this abomination wants to escape? Doesn’t he have everything he could want? Money and his father’s pack handed to him on the proverbial silver platter, based on his blood and nothing else?”

  Shit. If he had half a ball, he’d walk out and never see his family again. Hard for wolves. Damned hard. “I think the son’s not even a little happy about it.”

  “Why do you say that, Rome?” Lawrence asked with a gentle smile.

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen him twice now, once at his own engagement party. He never looks happy about this whole thing.”

  “Expressions can be deceiving.” His father sipped his evening tea.

  “Perhaps.”

  Lawrence asked, “What’s he like? The Havilland boy?”

  Be careful. “It’s probably not correct to call him a boy. I’d guess he’s older than me. He seems to be out of school. They say he’s an artist and he was living in New York when he got summoned to ‘save the pack.’” He made quotations in the air. “Tall, slim. That elegant Havilland breeding shows all over his face.” Shut up before you start waxing poetic again.

  His father snorted. “Effete, overbred leeches.”

  Lawrence kept his mild expression but said, “I think it’s unwise to write off any clan as influential as the Havillands, Benedetto.”

  “Of course, you’re right. Old habits die hard.”

  Lawrence smiled. “And Anderson is a wild card. Who knows what that much money and ruthless focus could do with a clan like Havilland?”

  Benedetto gazed at his father-in-law levelly. “You don’t agree with the popular wisdom that Havilland will just overspend the money and it’ll be gone in no time?”

  Rome glanced at Lawrence. “Anderson’s no dummy. He must know that Havilland’s a drunk. Why would he allow himself to be used if it wasn’t to his advantage?”