Bloodlines (95 page)

Over the course of the day, Redford had figured out that he was best utilized helping with the heavy lifting.

“Jed?” Redford attempted to look over the chair he was carrying. He wasn’t even sure where he
was
—the mansion’s hallways looked very similar. He hoped he was going the right way. “Jed, if you’re near me and if I’m not lost, can you tell me where you want this chair?”

There was a faint laugh and then Jed was behind him, wrapping arms around him, hands grasping the chair along with Redford’s. “You are so hot when you’re being all manly and strong,” Jed murmured, kissing just under Redford’s ear. “Come on. I’ve got the other chair. We’re just down the hall.”

At least Redford hadn’t wound up totally lost. Relieved, he followed Jed and did his best to memorize what the hallway looked like and smelled like so he’d remember later. Earlier, Edwin had been telling him all about the best places of the mansion to sniff—Redford hadn’t passed by any of them so far, but all of it smelled pretty interesting, like Victor’s blood, only so much stronger.

Jed had bitched about leaving the apartment. It had been
his
for so long. But Victor had given them a whole suite of rooms to themselves, with huge windows and doors from the sitting room that opened out onto the grounds. They’d sat there, the two of them, talking about where they’d put their furniture, painting the walls, making it
theirs
. And it seemed better then. Jed had seemed more relaxed about leaving his home.

As he’d put it, the apartment had been for him. This was going to be for them. And Redford liked how that sounded.

They passed Anthony on the way down the hallway, his head in a blueprint, muttering to himself. Victor, Redford thought, might soon be regretting telling Anthony he could renovate rooms if he wished. Randall passed them, chasing after Edwin, who was carting a box of books away from the library.

“Bring those back, Edwin Lewis,” Randall demanded.

“You don’t need more books!” Edwin was laughing, grinning as he turned around to run backward, taunting Randall. “I’m setting them free. Free the books! No more stuffy libraries!”

From very far off, perhaps the next hallway, came a shout of, “Edwin, if you harm a book on my property, you’ll suffer the consequences!”

That only served to make Edwin laugh harder, and Redford could see the start of a grin on Randall’s face. “Oh, that’s it,” Randall mock growled, shrugging off his sweater, shifting as his pants hit the floor. And then, Edwin gleefully changing as well, there were two wolves wrestling in the hallway, Randall’s usual reserve fading slightly, enough for him to just
play
for a bit.

Redford cringed as they wrestled a bit too close to a side table that held some kind of antique statue on it, but they were obviously conscious of it. Perhaps they’d received the same lecture Redford had a few hours ago.

When Redford finally got the chair to his and Jed’s room, his arms were starting to ache a little with the strain. He set it down with a relieved puff of air and rolled his shoulders to ease the burn in the muscles. At least they had most of their furniture done already. Hand in hand, they walked back through the hallways to the truck, and Redford found he was unable to stop smiling.

It was early days, but it felt like the Gray Lady had been right. They did make an odd pack—three wolves, one not-quite-wolf, one human, and one half-blood medusa. And one very pleased cat, who was off exploring all the nooks and crannies she could find. But it was working, and it felt
good
. Redford couldn’t feel the slightest hint of discomfort from his instincts. Edwin rolled past him on the floor, bumping against his legs, tail wagging eagerly, and Jed started to laugh.

“Go have fun,” he murmured, kissing Redford’s cheek. “I’m going to find Victor and make sure he’s not having a panic attack from the hairballs.”

“Have fun?” Redford questioned. “What do you mean? There’s still furniture to get inside.”

“I’ll handle it.” Jed squeezed his fingers lightly. “You go do wolfy things. Come on, Randall’s got to have, like, a twenty-minute limit on acting like something other than a stick in the mud.”

The idea of just spontaneously going to do “wolfy things” still didn’t come entirely naturally to Redford, but he was getting there. The shifts were less painful now, and the instincts had calmed. Whether it was any one particular thing that had helped, or the combination of Dr. Alona, Jed’s help, and the wolf pack, Redford still wasn’t sure. The point was, he felt better.

Enough so that he just shook his head in bemusement and shrugged off his shirt. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” he promised.

Jed hauled him back for a kiss, grinning against his lips. “Love you,” Jed said, pulling back, studying his eyes. “Happy?”

Redford nudged his forehead against Jed’s, and he took a second to enjoy the moment. Jed was happy, and they stood alone in the hallway of a beautiful mansion that they now lived in with their own odd little pack. Anthony’s treatment had started yesterday, and already he was showing signs of being able to move easier. Edwin had settled into the place like it was a second skin, and Randall and Victor were bossing them all around.

Two days ago, the Gray Lady and her pack had disappeared. There had been no good-byes, no closure. Redford was simply left with the vague feeling of unease, as if things had needed to be said, answers given, that had been left undone. He had hoped to find the reason behind Filtiarn, of what he had become. Instead there was only the bent grass where the pack had been, the silent reminders of something gone. They had left to hide, and Redford knew it was entirely possible that he would never see them again. There was still a threat of war. Victor’s prophecy was still something they needed to figure out, though it was clear that Jed had banished all thought of it from his mind. But for now, they were safe. For now, they could live in peace.

“Yeah,” Redford said. “I’m happy.”

“Good.” Another kiss brushed against his lips, and Jed gave him a playful smack on the ass. “Now get out of here. I’m going to drag Victor out of that library if it kills one of us.”

Redford just laughed. “Good luck,” he replied, and shifted just after he’d finished the second word. On four legs now, the mansion seemed to light up with scents, and after a fond nudge against Jed’s legs, Redford took off down the hallway to find Edwin and Randall. They’d stopped wrestling and had instead started stalking each other through a strange room that was full of nothing but suits of armor. When Redford joined in, he did so by greeting Randall with a flying tackle.

Randall turned and snapped lightly at Redford’s muzzle, and they rolled end over end across the room. Edwin galloped over, nipping at them both to send them charging after him, darting around the legs of the armor. They ran past Anthony in another room, who still had his nose buried in blueprints, and by the time they wound up outside at the back of the mansion, Redford was ready to have a sleep.

He flopped down on the sun-warmed grass. As Randall and Edwin did the same, Redford could have grinned with the contentment he felt. He had a
pack
. Jed found them then, one of the sofas from the back of the moving van on a wheeled trolley. Jed set it out on the grass and collapsed onto it, sprawled out lazily, head tipped back to the sun.

“Last thing,” he huffed. “I need a cold beer.”

Redford jumped up to sit on the couch beside him, contemplating something he wasn’t even sure would work. He was going to try, though. Tipping his head back, he howled—quietly enough so that only those in the mansion would hear it. He heard a return from Anthony. A minute passed. Then Anthony came out with an entire six-pack straight from the fridge. There was no specific howl for “cold beer,” so Redford had just tried to communicate the feeling of needing refreshment.

It had apparently worked. He gave Jed a wolfy grin and howled a second time, not for refreshment or anything in particular, just
peace
and family and feeling so at home that he almost didn’t know what to do with the enormity of the feeling. Knievel curled up at his feet, finished prowling around the edge of the grounds. Jed had wrapped an arm around him, and Anthony was beside him. Victor was coming down from the house, Randall charging toward him, shifting halfway there, taking the robe Victor had brought him with a grin. Edwin was sprawled out in the sun, tail flicking absently.

And they were home.

Jed

“Y
OU
KNOW
what my apartment had?” Jed told Redford mournfully, shaking out his leather jacket, sighing at the cloud of fur that rolled off of it. “About a thousand percent less shedding. Also, no wolves running through my weapon room and scaring the shit out of me.”

“Uh-huh.” Redford was sprawled out on the couch in front of their fireplace, paging through a book. And clearly not as invested in this rant as Jed was.

Three weeks into moving into the commune, as Jed had decided to start calling it, and it was becoming
abundantly
clear that, however gigantic this mansion was, it was so not large enough. “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Jed continued, slouching down to sit in the chair opposite, guns out on the table for cleaning. “They’re not half bad.” Which was pretty much the highest praise he’d be willing to give. “But does Edwin
need
to nap on my jacket?”

At least he wasn’t using it as a chew toy. Jed should probably be thankful for small favors.

“Yeah.” Redford nodded, turning a page. And Jed was now convinced he hadn’t heard a word. Which was absolutely a tragedy, because this was a grade A rant!

“We need a job,” Jed declared, pointing at him, waving his finger around. “I haven’t stayed at my
old
place this long, much less in kiddie wolf camp.”

Randall and Victor were positively
domestic
. Disgustingly so. Cooking dinner, working together, and they along with Anthony were eagerly working on turning the stuffy, dark mansion into something light and open. Hell, just yesterday Anthony had gotten Edwin’s help in knocking out a wall and combining two small, dank rooms into what was apparently going to be a huge, open family area on the second floor.

It was a whole lotta family shit, was all Jed was saying. He desperately wanted to go out and blow something up.

No one was talking about the war. It seemed quiet, for now, and as far as Jed was concerned, they would take what they could get. He’d gone out the first night, checked the defensibility of the grounds. Appropriately enough, for a place that looked like a castle, pretty much all it was missing was a moat. It would be a fortress if they needed it to be, which made Jed sleep a lot better at night.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want a job.

“We need to
work
,” he repeated, sullenly getting out his knives to sharpen them. Again.

“Absolutely,” Redford hummed, eyes still on the book. “Sounds great.”

Jed flicked a look up at him, eyes narrowing. “I think I’m going to start walking around naked,” he informed Redford.

“Uh-huh.”

“I might tattoo my entire body with a life-sized portrait of Margaret Thatcher. You know, in honor of my right ball.”

“That’s good, Jed,” Redford murmured, turning another page.

Jed did the only thing he could. He stood up, undid his jeans, and shimmied them off his hips. His shirt was next, tossed off to land on top of Redford’s head. Redford blinked, looking up at him, eyes widening.

“Take me to bed right now,” Jed demanded. “You aren’t listening to me. I think we need to rectify that.”

He strode off toward the bedroom. Redford was right on his heels.

They had
much
better communication in bed. Jed made sure Redford worked on his listening skills. Namely listening as Jed begged for
more
and
harder
and
oh, God, just like that
. Redford was very attentive.

They lay in each other’s arms quite a while later, content, Jed’s eyes falling half shut as Redford ran absent fingers through his hair.

“You want a job?” Redford asked.

Jed raised his eyebrows as he looked up at him. Redford just smirked. “I listen to you,” Redford assured him, dropping a kiss to Jed’s nose. “You just had a nice steam worked up. I thought I’d let you go at it.” A pause and he smiled, another kiss pressed to Jed’s forehead. “Please don’t get Margaret Thatcher tattooed on you. That would be… disturbing.”

Jed snorted out a laugh and curled up farther into Redford’s arms. “We need a job,” he agreed. “I’m getting fat and lazy.”

His phone chirped, and Jed sighed, looking over at it. “I didn’t mean
now
,” he muttered at it in a grump, considering ignoring it completely. Stupid thing had the worst timing. Reaching over, Jed grabbed it and squinted as he scrolled through the messages. One voice mail, unknown number.

Jed pressed play. And on the first word, the first smoky syllable, he was sitting up straight, eyes going wide.