Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(6)
“Miguel’s watching the animal menagerie, right?”
“Yeah. The clinic will be fine, but you know…”
Linc nodded knowingly, and Damian knew he got it. In their college days, it had been Lincoln who’d been the serious, career-focused one of the group. As the Alpha of the North American Pack, he’d had no choice but to walk the straight and narrow while Damian and Adrian had their fun.
Especially Damian … because as Linc’s Second-in-Command, there was a limit to how much debauchery Adrian could get mixed up in. That left Damian to claim the troublemaker title in their friendship, and it had been a moniker the half–demon spawn of one of the most notorious princes of Hell wore like a badge of honor.
It also helped he’d once been the Underworld’s most notorious teenage Hunter, trained by Ezeil himself from the time he could barely walk. Damian and his half-brother both. While some kids played dodgeball on the playground, they sparred. When others visited the local swimming hole, they hung out in dark alleys waiting for their next mark to make an appearance. Considering the only approval Damian got from the demon bastard he called Father was when he embraced his darker side, he’d dove headfirst into the Hunt.
He trained. He Hunted. He trained more, pushing his Norm side further away with each haul-in.
At least until his tunnel vision and desire for his father’s approval bought himself a nasty hex from a very pissed teenage witch. That was a wake-up call, and incidentally was right around the time Miguel came into his life, tugging him off the streets and away from Hunting.
The older man had showed him there was a whole other world besides the one filled with bounties and Supernatural nasties. He’d taught him ways to keep his demon in check that didn’t involve Hunting. He taught him what it was to have a real father’s approval.
Sometimes Miguel’s meditation tactics worked. Sometimes they didn’t. When Damian’s demon got extra randy, a quick naked romp usually—though temporarily—put the bastard back to rights. Although, the last time he’d indulged, it hadn’t been so easy to get his partner out of his head afterward. Or his dreams. Or during his morning rub-outs.
Rose Maxwell—Linc’s almost sister-in-law—haunted Damian’s head months after their backroom romp in this very bar.
He’d been minding his damn business, thinking how overdue he was for a little fun, when she’d nearly taken him off his feet and plastered her body against his. And what a body …
Used to breaking his neck when he looked down at his female companions, he’d barely had to dip his chin to lock eyes with her gorgeous caramel-hued ones. Add in the full breasts that were more than two palm-sized handfuls and hips that were designed to be gripped, and he hadn’t had a chance of denying either of them what they’d both craved in the moment.
Having just gotten into town, he hadn’t known who she was at the time, but he wasn’t so sure it would’ve changed anything. There’d been a draw he couldn’t resist, and one he still felt months after.
Linc’s cell rang at nearly the exact moment Damian’s notified him of an incoming text. While the shifter handed his pool cue to Bax to take his call, Damian glanced at Miguel’s message:
M: Slight incident at the sanctuary, but all is well.
I can make it back in thirty.
M: Don’t even think about it. Minimum 4 hours. You barely hit 2.
But if there’s a problem …
M: Problem handled. Four. Hours.
Damian frowned just in time to see Linc’s mile-wide grin melt away as he listened to the person on the end of the line. “I’m sorry, princess, but you’re where? Violet! What the hell did you do?”
Linc winced, pulling the phone away from his ear as his soon-to-be Mate gave him an earful that pinked the Alpha’s cheeks. “Yeah. No. You’re right. I don’t have the full story. Stay there, okay? I don’t want the four of you walking home on your own. The guys and I are only a few blocks away from the precinct. We’ll be there in ten.”
Bax and Adrian threw him expectant looks as he hung up, but it was Bax who asked, “The precinct? What the hell trouble did Violet get them into now?”
“Attempted horse theft. Horse-napping? Horse thievery? I don’t know what the hell to call it. She said something about Operation Equine Freedom and I was too damn afraid to ask.”
Bax pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should lay off the beers because I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
“I wish I were.” Linc chuckled, hanging his pool cue back on the wall rack. “It was evidently a misunderstanding … one that I can’t wait to hear about in person.”
“Alright, let’s go.” Bax shrugged into his leather jacket.
“You guys don’t have to go with me.”
Bax and Adrian were already headed for the door, the lion shifter tossing over his shoulder, “The Maxwell sisters and their sexy succubus sidekick got pinched for something called Operation Equine Freedom. That isn’t a story I want to hear secondhand, man. Besides, didn’t Vi take your wheels for their little law-breaking jaunt? Wonder if it got impounded.”
Linc paled. “Fuck me.”
They all chuckled … except the wolf shifter.
“Sorry your night out was cut short,” Linc apologized as they followed the other two. “See if Miguel can watch your critters again another night and we’ll give it a second attempt. I’ll make sure Violet promises to be on her best behavior.”