"You were confident," Jed corrected, dropping to his knees. Nuzzling his nose against the front of Redford's jeans, Jed flashed him a wicked smile in the dim light. Redford was too startled to make a move to haul Jed back to his feet-and he hadn't been lying, Jed was terrible for his self-control. "And s.e.xy." He slid his lips along the outline of Redford's c.o.c.k, sucking at it through his pants. "And perfect. I barely could watch the crowd, I was so busy looking at you."

"Wait, wait a second," Redford insisted, though he was starting to find it difficult to think. His higher thought functions always started to sink down into the gutter when Jed got going. "Can you-" He broke off, wrapping his hands around Jed's shoulders and tugging him up again. "I'm just going to get the leash off."

He nudged Jed to turn and started plucking at the rope around his neck. "There's a storage room two steps to your left," Jed rumbled, green eyes bright in the flickering light, looking back at Redford. "See if it's unlocked?"

When the last of the rope had fallen away and was tucked into Redford's pocket, Redford took the few steps to his left and checked the door handle. "It's open." He beamed at Jed, reaching out to take his hand, absently sliding his fingers along Jed's neck, making sure there were no marks from the knotted collar.

He swung the door open and happily dragged Jed inside, hauling him in for a kiss as he kicked the door shut behind them. They were cloaked in near-total darkness, the only light coming from under the door. Jed's hands were on Redford's belt, yanking it open with a sharp movement. The only sounds were the faint, low thrum of music from the bar, the harsh panting of their breaths, and the creak of leather as Jed sank back to his knees.

Redford tangled his fingers in Jed's hair, stroking through the short, messy strands, looking down to watch him. "I wish there was a decent light in here," he admitted, running his thumb over Jed's jaw. "I like seeing you."

He felt Jed pause under him, a low huff of air lifting his shoulders. Fingers fumbled a bit on Redford's zipper, and then there was Jed's tongue, running along the underside of his c.o.c.k. Redford hissed in a sharp breath, just barely stopping his head from colliding with the wall when he tipped it back. "Same to you, babe," Jed murmured. "Best sight in the whole d.a.m.n world."

Jed apparently wasn't in the mood for any kind of slowness or further lead up, and Redford really did thump his head against the wall when Jed's mouth wrapped around him. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the low light, but not enough to see Jed-instead of staring down at the sight of Jed on his knees, the lips wrapped around him cherry bright, the gleam of a smirk in Jed's gaze, Redford was forced to focus only on the physical. His whole world became nothing but scent and sensation, the incredible feeling of Jed's tongue and the slide of his mouth. Redford clenched his fingers in Jed's hair, struggling not to turn his grip painful.

It wasn't that they hadn't done this before. Jed had shown, time and time again over their months together, that he was quite willing to partake of this specific activity with little to no provocation. But somehow, it was so intense. Maybe it was that it was dark, or that Jed had decided that sliding his lips down to the base of Redford's c.o.c.k in one fell swoop was the right course of action-which Redford could hardly argue with-but Redford found himself biting his lip just to keep from moaning so loud everyone could hear. He'd never exactly done this in a storage room before, especially not with an entire bar of strangers less than thirty feet away.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall, summoning every sc.r.a.p of restraint he had to stop himself from advertising their presence. He wasn't going to last long, not with Jed doing his best to make him come undone as quickly as humanly possible. Not with the strange allure of doing this in a place where they could so easily be discovered-Redford wasn't sure why that was hot, but he didn't have the brainpower to figure it out right then. He'd ask Jed later.

When arousal built to its peak, Redford tried to warn Jed, but all that came out was a stuttered version of Jed's name, pleasure sweeping over him and leaving his skin alight. His head was definitely going to hurt, with all the times he'd smacked it against the wall, but the sensation drowned that out.

He sagged back against the wall like it was the only thing holding him up and managed to loosen his grip on Jed's hair, rubbing his fingertips over Jed's scalp in apology. "I don't think I can move," Redford said vaguely. "But I'd like it if you stood so I can kiss you." If he attempted to kneel or pull Jed up, Redford was sure he might actually fall over.

With a very quiet laugh, Jed stood, arms bracing on either side of Redford, body blanketing his, pressing him back into the wall. "You're incredible," Jed murmured, ghosting his lips over Redford's. Nimble fingers were gently getting Redford's pants zipped back up, his shirt straightened again. Redford's sudden movement to wrap his arms around Jed briefly halted Jed's progress, but getting himself neat and tidy was the last thing on Redford's mind.

He nuzzled in against Jed's neck, burying a smile against the skin as he pushed a thigh between Jed's. "We're not done," he pointed out, biting at Jed's lip. Jed's response came a little slower than normal, but then there was the blush of a smile against Redford's lips, Jed leaning in to catch another kiss.

"Yeah?" Jed rumbled, sounding a little surprised. "What, you got another go-round in you? And here I thought Cujo would be tired after that workout."

Even after a Jed-mandated viewing of that movie, Redford still wasn't sure about that nickname. Then again, Jed's names for things rarely made a lot of sense to anyone but Jed. "No, I mean-"

A sharp knock at the door made Redford jump. "If you're quite done" came Victor's dry voice.

Redford gave Jed a guilty look. He knew there wasn't exactly a time frame on this part of the job, though, so he couldn't feel too bad about it. Reaching down, he gave Jed's c.o.c.k a fond pat through the leather pants. "Hold that thought until we get home."

Jed pounded on the door, smirking at Victor's audibly irritated reaction on the other side. "It's not nice to eavesdrop, princess," Jed informed him, swinging open the door and walking out, looking vastly pleased with himself. His hand was laced with Redford's, and he pulled the man into his side happily. "Especially not when I'm busy with a c.o.c.k down my throat. That was important to the mission." Off of Victor's disbelieving expression, Jed tried out his best innocent look. "What? It was! Crucial job-related activities were happening in there. I'll be billing for our time."

"Incredibly crucial," Redford agreed solemnly. "We might not have gotten the mission done without it."

Victor looked completely unsure of the validity of that. He obviously wasn't used to Redford being able to lie and play along with Jed. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he turned to walk back to the hallway. "The meter's running on the taxi. Unless you want this trip to cost more than your entire fee, I suggest you quicken your pace," he called.

Whistling sharply, Jed strolled past Victor, hastening to open the door for him and Redford while he tried to hand Victor what appeared to be some folded paper. "Move your very pert a.s.ses," he told them cheerfully. "And, Victor, see what you can find out about that guy."

"Has that been inside your trousers?" Victor sounded scandalized, refusing to touch the poster.

Jed blinked, looking down at it and then back up at Victor. "Well, yeah," he drawled, arching one eyebrow. "Not like I have pockets."

He ushered the two men into the cab, giving his address and leaning back against the seat. Jed shook the poster out, and they leaned in to look at it. It was the same poster Redford had seen on the wall, the one that called for a half-blood revolution. "This guy. Phoenix. I want to know what his deal is."

Victor gingerly took the poster between thumb and forefinger. "His name is Phoenix Green." Redford gave a snort at the name, which Victor smirked at. "Yes, I know. Odd name. Word is that his parents were hippies. But beyond that, I'm afraid I can't tell you much. Much the same as Edwin was saying the other night. He advocates for half-blood superiority over humans, and that half bloods are equals to wolves and vampires."

"Is he a half blood?" Redford asked curiously.

"I'd a.s.sume so." Victor leaned closer to study the fine print at the bottom of the poster. "n.o.body has a clue what kind, though. He's kept it very secret." When Redford gave him a quick look, Victor simply shrugged. "Apparently he smells of old metal and earth. That's hardly a definite species as far as we know."

"Feel like I've seen him before. Or maybe he's just got one of those faces." Jed shrugged. "Probably not in any of my type of crowds, right?" He smirked a little, humorlessly. "Dirty human and all that s.h.i.t."

"Perhaps you have seen him around. He's been doing a lot of public appearances in the last few years." Victor folded the poster back up and handed it to Jed.

"You got ears to the ground on this?" Jed asked Victor, gaze sharp despite the lazy sprawl of his body.

Victor gave a one-shouldered shrug, a wry smile touching his lips. "Somewhat. I am part of the half-blood community, after all, even though I don't converse with the fanatics that Phoenix is beginning to cultivate. I'm usually treated with a reasonable amount of respect, due to the dwindling numbers of my bloodline."

"Good." Jed's eyes slipped shut as he thought. "Got a feelin', that's all. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if we kept one eye on this hippie."

Redford glanced over at Jed, questioning. "What do you think is going to happen?" It seemed fairly harmless to him; what were one man's words, really? People talked all the time. Redford saw them on television, in the news, even on the street corner, sometimes. Everyone had an opinion and sometimes felt the need to shout them. One man standing up and saying that he thought humans were less wasn't going to suddenly turn into something much more.

"What always happens." Jed shrugged. "People talk, people listen, everyone gets all het up, and then either they get tired and go home or s.h.i.t goes to h.e.l.l. Kind of hard to tell what a group of anyone, human or whatever, is going to choose to care about on any particular day. I just want to keep eyeb.a.l.l.s on the situation, especially if you're going to be chummy with any of the fanged or furry types."

"I'll keep an ear out for whatever information I can," Victor agreed. "Phoenix is becoming more popular lately, so gossip is easier to come by, at least."

"And maybe when we visit the Gray Lady's pack, the wolves there might be talking about it too," Redford said.

"Doesn't look like much, does he?" Jed was studying the picture on the flyer, head c.o.c.ked, still frowning as if searching his memory for why the man looked so familiar.

"Well, he has just had his face in your pants," Victor said idly. "Anybody would look terrible after that." Redford wondered if he should be insulted.

Leaning forward, Jed gave Victor a smirk, expression absolutely wicked. "Well, just to let you know. Not a lot of room in these pants, so that poster," the one currently resting on Victor's lap, "got real cozy with Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher, and Rambo, the True American Hero."

Instead of reacting with horror, Victor's expression turned as confused as Redford's had been. Then, very slowly, recognition dawned on his face, and with a vaguely irritated noise he shoved the poster at Jed. "I'm not sure I want to know why those three people."

Laughing, Jed grinned at him, arm slung around Redford's shoulders. "All you need to know, princess, is that in my pants? Churchill wins the war every time."

Chapter 4.

Victor "JED, IF you're going to pull up outside my cla.s.ses, you could at least have the decency to not lean on the horn with quite so much enthusiasm." Victor readjusted his grip on his bag, peering into the rental van. Inside were Jed and Redford, three wolves, and a cat. "Good morning," he said dryly. "It's certainly a lovely day to be crammed into Jed's idea of transportation, isn't it?"

"Well f.u.c.k you too, princess." Jed was behind the wheel, looking none too happy about his current ride. As far as Victor could remember, the man preferred his vehicles with a few more bullet holes and grunt to them. He was certain it was some of kind of overcompensation. "It's not my fault that we're the f.u.c.king Brady Bunch on acid in here. I had to get something that would fit us all." The minivan chugged back to life, and Jed grimaced at the automatic transmission. For a moment his hand had flailed out as if to switch gears, which, obviously, wasn't necessary. "G.o.dd.a.m.n soccer mom s.h.i.t."

"I only narrowly stopped him from trying to put a V8 engine in it," Redford piped up from the front seat, twisted around to look at Victor. Jed sighed mournfully, revving the engine. It sounded like a wailing cat, the van shuddering a bit in protest before it evened out again.

Victor frowned at the thought of it. "That would handle terribly," he admonished Jed, climbing into the van. He shoved his bag under a seat, looking around to figure out where he could sit. Edwin was taking up half of one of the seats, a Siamese cat taking up the other half. Anthony was seated near the window, and Randall had gotten himself near the back, head down in a book. His options seemed to be to remove a very possessive-looking cat or to press into the backseat. It was not exactly first cla.s.s. Victor made a mental note not to entrust Jed with the traveling plans in the future.

The cat lifted its head to study Victor intently, and Victor suddenly felt a bit like a schoolchild who had forgotten his homework. But then she rolled over, dismissing him out of hand, much too busy kneading happily into Edwin's leg to bother with him. Edwin gave Victor a helpless little look, torn between amus.e.m.e.nt and bafflement. "This is Knievel," he informed Victor, cutting a quick look up at Jed. "Apparently she's coming with us."

"d.a.m.n straight," Jed informed them all cheerfully. "My baby is not doing that kennel thing again." Knievel, for her part, didn't appear concerned at all to be surrounded by wolves. In fact, if the way Edwin was putting up with claws digging in and out of his thigh was any indication, she was coming out on top in the whole matter.

Victor felt his nose start to itch. Thank G.o.d he'd had the foresight to pack some allergy medication. He'd met Knievel before in the times he'd been to Jed's apartment, but those had always been brief visits, and his allergy to cats had never had time to play up too much. Now he was going to be stuck in a van with one for two days. Wonderful.

Backseat it was, then. As he settled into his seat, Jed kicked the van into gear, and they peeled out of the parking lot far faster than Victor was comfortable with. He dragged his bag closer with a sigh, digging into a front pocket to retrieve the medication. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the t.i.tle of Randall's book: Mittelalterliche Liste gefhrlicher und unerkennbarer Bestien.

"You know German?" Victor said, pleasantly surprised.

Looking a bit startled, Randall raised his head, gla.s.ses falling half down his nose from where he'd been bent over the book. "Oh. Er, yes, a bit. Well enough written, my spoken is quite terrible." A very faint smile touched his lips. "I have the worst accent. I only really learned it because I was interested in Old English, but that wasn't an option in my high school. So I taught myself, using what I'd learned in German cla.s.ses."

"How wonderful." Victor beamed. "You're on the right track to getting close to Old English, then. They do have many similarities." He motioned at the book. "Why a medieval index?"

Randall rifled his bag, pulled out a bottle of water, and offered it to Victor almost shyly, eyes darting to the bottle of allergy meds. With a grateful smile, Victor accepted and took a drink to wash the pills down.

Randall's eyes fell, warmth touching his cheeks. He fumbled a bit, pushing his gla.s.ses back up, explaining, "It's, uh, research. A list of 'dangerous and unknowable beasts,' which, of course-" He turned the book to face Victor with a slight amused smile. There was a woodcut print of a snarling beast, eyes wild, fangs dripping. It was labeled belster und gefhrlichster Wolfsmensch. Most vile and dangerous wolf man. "-includes our great, great ancestors. Including a mention here of Liadan and Filtiarn. Well, not directly, but it talks about the wolf mother and her mate, and the birth of the curse of the Wolfsmensch."

"Really?" Victor's interest was piqued. "That's fascinating. I'd love to glance over it later, if that's okay with you."

"Oh, yes, absolutely." Randall immediately handed it over, nodding a few times. "I've read it numerous times, so, please. Be my guest. I have other books."

Victor was careful as he handled it, putting it on his lap. The book was obviously well read, the pages slick at the top corners from frequent turning. Overall it was in quite good condition, loved and cared for. Victor did respect people who treated their books well. "You must be quite interested in this line of research," he murmured, turning a page, his gaze skimming over a frightful woodcut of what looked like a demonic infant. "I think you'd like my personal library. Study of the supernatural is something of a pa.s.sion of mine."

"You're a professor of linguistics, right?" Anthony said from a seat over.

"Indeed." Victor leaned forward to talk to Anthony, so that he could be heard over the rumble of the engine. "I have my masters in linguistics, and I teach a few cla.s.ses here and there. This is actually my semester off-they like us to write research papers every now and then, but that doesn't take much time, so here I am. I have no formal education in the study of the supernatural, but then again, what they teach in cla.s.ses is hardly the truth in that area."

Anthony laughed in agreement. "I imagine not." He glanced at Randall and said, "You know, Randall's a fan of yours." His leg jerked back, and he laughed again, rubbing his ankle.

"Are you all right?" Randall asked dryly, head down as he carefully went through one of his bags for another book. "How terrible, you've hurt your ankle. Perhaps you should stop talking and tend to it."

"Yeah, must be one of those mysterious phantom ankle kickers." Anthony smirked. "But seriously, Professor, I had this mental image of you being sixty years old. None of your books have a picture of you."

Randall was bright red, and Victor felt like he might be headed in the same direction. He'd written a few books over the years, but because of the fact that he was significantly younger than most of his peers, he of course had never included photos. Mostly, he was just surprised that someone had actually read his books. They'd been accused of being rather dry.

"Well," he said, temporarily at a loss for words. "I hope they didn't put you to sleep, Randall."

"Oh no, he loves them." Now Edwin was in on the conversation, his grin huge underneath s.h.a.ggy hair as he turned around in his seat. "Reads them over and over. Once he tried to explain to me why they were...." He trailed off, hiding a laugh behind an entirely innocent look. "How was it you put it, Randall?"

"I think I changed my mind," was all Randall said, grimly, gaze very deliberately down, whole body flushing. Where his and Victor's legs touched by accident, his body gave a little twitch, but he didn't move away. "I no longer wish to attempt to save either of my brothers' lives. In fact, if you want to drop them both off here, on the side of the highway, I would be most grateful."

"The most brilliant pieces of literature to come out of academics in the last twenty years," Edwin recited, ignoring Randall completely, smile absolutely wicked. "Was that it, Randall?"

"I hope your tail falls off," Randall replied.

Laughing, Anthony turned away from them, ruffling Edwin's hair. And despite the teasing that had gone on, Victor found himself smiling.

He'd never had siblings, and due to his parents' deaths when he was young, he'd never particularly been part of a family group either. But now he watched the three Lewis brothers interact, the way they knew one another so well, the ease of their words and the gentle teasing. They were close; that much was obvious. Even when they were being embarra.s.sing to one another, they loved one another.

"You're very fortunate," Victor found himself murmuring, looking at Randall.

Despite the glare he'd shot at Edwin, despite the huffed sigh he'd given Anthony, when Randall looked over to meet Victor's gaze, his expression was soft. Randall gave him a very small smile, one corner of his lips curving upward. "I know."

Victor fell silent, ducking his head to study the book Randall had given him. As he lost himself in it, he was dimly aware of Edwin and Anthony talking lowly, of Knievel shifting so she could appropriate Redford's lap instead. At one point, Jed turned the music up to ear-ringing volumes, only to turn it back down at the number of glares sent at him.

He'd read books like this before, as part of his personal studies. It had a slightly different take on the origin of wolves, shaded by the perception and moral values of the author. This one seemed to think that werewolves only turned into their wolf forms when they smelled blood in the air, and Victor suppressed a laugh as he read a pa.s.sage about using swan fat rubbed into skin to "soothe the wild mind." The next time he looked up, they were a decent distance into the drive, having already reached one of the major towns along the path.

"If you'd like," Randall's quiet voice reached him, and he turned to find the man looking at him in concern, "I could move up to the empty seat. So you're not crowded. Or you could, I suppose. I just...." Randall looked down, to where their legs were pressed together, fumbling a bit on his words. "I don't want you to feel claustrophobic."

Taken aback, Victor took a few seconds before replying. In his experience, when people termed things in the perspective of you probably want to, it actually meant that they wanted that thing to happen and they were too polite to say so. But Randall didn't seem the type to be pa.s.sive-aggressive. Idly, he rubbed his hand over his neck, fingers b.u.mping over twin scars, and said, "Oh, no, I'm quite fine here, if you're fine."

"I'm very fine here," Randall said, voice dropping a bit, eyes going to Victor's fingers and then up to his face. "I.... Yes. It's very nice here. With you."

"Distanced from the rabble?" Victor smiled, turning his gaze back to the book. "I agree."

Randall almost said something; Victor could see it in his face. But, in the end, he simply sighed and said quietly, "Yes. That's what I meant."

The road slipped by under their wheels, Jed actually keeping within the speed limit. Victor was shocked, though he did hear Jed muttering something about a death box on wheels, so it was possible the van simply couldn't go much faster. After a while, Anthony was lulled to sleep, his head resting lightly against the window, but his legs shoved against Randall's in a way that made Anthony seem like he took up far much more s.p.a.ce than he really should be able to. Randall had shifted a bit closer to Victor, shrugging off his jacket to tuck around his brother with a fond little sigh.

Edwin, a row in front of them, had instigated a car game with Jed and Redford. Redford had expressed confusion over what "I Spy" was, so now Jed was teaching him. From his position in the back, Victor could see a smile curved at the corner of Jed's lips, fondness clear in his eyes as he looked at Redford.

"You try it, Red," Jed was prompting, cutting quick glances over at Redford in between watching the road.

Victor caught the edge of a frown on Redford's face. "I spy... something green," Redford decided, making it sound like a question.

"No." Edwin heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You do it with the first letter. Like, I spy something that starts with T."

"Only in Loserville," Jed shot back with a smirk. "Here in man's country, we play with colors."

"Yeah, cause you can't spell." Edwin was laughing, grin lighting up his face.

Jed stuck his tongue out at Edwin in the rearview mirror, because that was obviously the most mature way to win that argument. "Driver's rules, s.h.a.ggy. You get your b.a.l.l.s to drop, you can take over. Until then, we're playing my way."

"Shouldn't I be s...o...b..?" Edwin teased, not at all minding Jed's vulgarity. "I think you've got the s.h.a.ggy part all taken care of."

"Seeing as how there's four s...o...b..s in the car, I think we can share the t.i.tle." Redford laughed quietly. "Okay, how about we do both? I spy something that's green and starts with a G." He paused, uncertain. "Does that give it away too easily?"

"Nope," Jed said, ignoring Edwin's nod in favor of kissing Redford's knuckles. The motion was so easy, so automatic, that Victor almost looked away, feeling like he was looking in on a private moment. "Is it gophers?"

Edwin and Redford started laughing again, Jed's impish grin belying his innocent look. Gone was the usually guarded expression that sat on Jed's face, discarded in favor of genuine affection. Victor hadn't seen Jed get like that all that often, not when the man was too busy walling himself off. Something about Redford, Victor concluded, made it difficult for Jed to remain distant.

He envied them.

His gaze shifted to Anthony and Randall, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Anthony was still asleep, chin tucked to his chest, looking weary in a way he hadn't looked while he was awake and too determined to not seem ill at all. He looked smaller right then, a contrast to the loudly cheerful, fiercely protective man that Victor had seen at dinner.

Randall had his head down to read another book, his shoulder idly wedged against Anthony's to make sure Anthony stayed upright in his sleep. This time, Victor's gaze didn't immediately go to the book. Instead, he looked at the man, the way dark hair fell over his forehead, the absent motion to push his gla.s.ses farther up his nose when they slipped. His hands were gentle, deliberate as they turned the pages, treating them with care.