Dawn broke cold and grey and just a little bit depressing, Ronan thought as he stretched his limbs, cramped from the tiny hotel bed. His feet were hanging off the end of the bed and his neck was stiff as hell. Cheap hotel beds were not made for men of their size and what made matters worse – he had drawn the short straw and had been forced into the single bed the evening before. Looking to his left, he saw that Seth and Vaughn were still nestled quite cosily together in the queen bed. Reminding himself he had been lucky enough to win the ‘rock off’ on their three previous jobs, he forced himself to stop pouting and get out of bed.
Ten minutes later, he had showered and shaved and was dressed for the day to meet their new client. Stopping in the doorway of the bathroom, he saw that the other two were yet to make a move. Lazy beasts, he thought, but it was with affection rather than rancour. If they could have, Ronan knew they would both sleep in till noon. A soft purr he recognised as Vaughn’s had him looking that way again. Vaughn was now awake, a rhythmic satisfied purr rumbling lazily in his chest as he stroked a calloused hand over Seth’s back. Ronan smiled; Vaughn’s biggest secret? He was a snuggler.
“Time to get up, boys,” he said, walking to the small desk and taking his phone off the charger. Their new client was supposed to email them with their meet-point today.
“Don’t wanna ...” came the muttered reply from Seth.
“What he said,” Vaughn followed up, neither making a move.
Ronan rolled his eyes. They went through the same routine every morning. They’d start moving soon enough, probably because one of them would grab the other one’s morning wood, but still …
Scrolling through his phone, he saw that they had an unopened email in their business inbox from more than an hour ago. Looks like their new client was an early riser; “Move it, fellas. We got our email,” he threw over his shoulder, opening the email at the same time. Their client suggested they meet at nine, and the location … “Huh.”
“Huh, what?” Seth asked, planting a kiss on the top of his head from behind.
“You’re never going to believe the address for the meet with our mysterious client,” he angled his phone so Seth could see it. A huge yawn and a creaking bed signalled Vaughn had also deigned to get up, and Ronan tapped at the address, bringing it to his attention as well.
“Hastings Lane? Why does that sound familiar?” Vaughn asked.
“Because it’s the address of the bar we were at last night,” Seth pointed out.
The bar with the sexy female proprietor, Ronan thought, without really knowing why. The woman was as plain as could be in the looks department. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her brown hair and eyes, and her body had been hidden behind practical clothes. But there was no denying he had felt an instant spark of attraction to the woman the moment he laid eyes on her. He had spent the better part of the night feeling guilty over his continued hardness, knowing for the first time in years, it hadn’t been the result of the two men sleeping so close. The time for sharing their bed with others had long passed. So why was he finding himself so enamoured with some strange woman he had met for all of two minutes? It didn’t make sense.
It was also the reason why he had ushered them all out of the bar last night so quickly. He hadn’t wanted to give away his thoughts by remaining in her presence any longer. Although, he had his suspicions regarding his partners anyway. He could have sworn he had seen lust shining in Seth’s eyes the evening before, as well as suppressed desire in Vaughn’s. None of them had said anything about it before going to bed, and although they had engaged in their usual nightly play, he couldn’t help feeling like they had all been holding back a little.
“It’s suspicious,” Vaughn stated, posture going on alert.
Seth patted him on the back, heading into the bathroom, “It’s a coincidence,” he corrected.
Vaughn just grunted, scowling at the address on the phone screen, “Coincidences are fucking suspicious.”
“You think everything is fucking something or other,” Seth retorted, his voice garbled from the toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth.
“And I’m always right,” Vaughn shouted back and Seth merely flipped him off to rinse his mouth, “Well I am, aren’t I?” his grumpy lover demanded.
Ronan shook his head. The two men were always bickering about something. Not that it concerned him. After all, it was all foreplay, “I’m not enabling you two.”
It had been a big adjustment, not only to them but to their panthers when Seth had shown up ten years ago. His arrival had challenged them in every way possible. For starters, his panther was a big, dominant bastard and he knew Vaughn’s cat had struggled with having another alpha in their shadow – what they referred to their little feline group. In the wild, male black jaguars were not known for forming social groups and they would usually carve out a large territory for themselves. They would only come together to mate and breed with a female. Male panthers were pretty much all alphas – making a group hierarchy a little redundant. It had never been a problem for Vaughn or himself over the generations because his own beast had no desire to challenge Vaughn’s in any way. Seth’s, on the other hand, he was all about pushing boundaries – the biggest being their feelings for each other. And that was something Ronan would be forever grateful for.
He had been harbouring feelings for Vaughn pretty much since their first incarnation. At that time, it was easy enough to ignore his desires. Their coven was thriving and complete with twelve members, and they had been familiars to their own individual witches. Over the generations, the Panthera Coven’s numbers had dwindled along with the familiars and they had found themselves thrown together more and more. His attraction had grown with every generation but he had never acted on it for a multitude of reasons. The biggest reason being that their lives were not their own. Hell, even their deaths weren’t their exclusive property, given they were reborn again and again. They were bound to serve their coven and their bloodlines for eternity. As far as he was aware, no familiar had ever had their own family before.
Two generations ago, there had just been him, Vaughn, and one other female familiar left in their coven, and a solo male witch. They had shared the responsibilities and their panthers, already being so accustomed to each other, had settled into a surprisingly easy truce. When Dale had been killed in an accident at the age of twenty-one alongside Maree, his other familiar, he had never even had the chance to make his own family, thus effectively wiping out the Panthera bloodline – or so they had assumed.
Vaughn had spiralled into a rather nasty depression and Ronan had managed to keep himself from his own pit of despair only because the other man had needed him. With no witch left in their coven, their whole purpose for being was over. Not only would they never be reborn again, but they were also outcasts in the witching world. What use was a familiar without a witch? Time had seemed to crawl by in that last life – endless days and nights with no future. His only solace had been Vaughn, despite the man’s hard exterior and shitty attitude. Ronan believed it had literally broken his heart when Vaughn had died in his sleep, aged eighty-three, for he had died not a month later. The real surprise came when they were both born again, finding and recognising each other in their early teens. Unbelievable as it was, the only explanation was that there was another member of their coven out there somewhere. Somehow, someway, there was a surviving witch.
Vaughn refused to believe it at first, arguing with him constantly. But then, a little over ten years ago, Ronan had walked into a bar to peel Vaughn from yet another fight, when his panther had scented another predator in the room. Seth had been the man Vaughn had been pummelling – or attempting to anyway. Seth had been holding his own, even at twenty years of age. After a lot of swearing, arguing, and discussions, they had finally determined Seth was indeed a familiar. And not only a familiar – but a black jaguar, a panther – just like them. It shouldn’t have been possible. Only familiars charged with serving the Panthera Coven shared their spirits with the panther, and their bloodline was extinct. But with the appearance of Seth, came further proof that a witch must be out there somewhere.
After those initial arguments and the adjustment to the dominant nature of Seth’s cat, Seth had started to challenge them in new ways. He was a happy-go-lucky, easy-going man but he was also damn stubborn and chased after what he wanted with a single-minded purpose. And it soon became clear that he wanted the both of them. Ronan shook his head in remembrance; the pure shock on Vaughn’s face when Seth had told them to make out in front of him because he was in the mood for live porn had been priceless. Ronan would forever be grateful for the younger miscreant because he couldn’t remember ever being happier in all his lives as he was right now. Although he didn’t have his coven or his witch, he had the love of two men and he would be quite happy to live out the rest of his days in his little shadow of three.
“Earth to Ronan,” snapping fingers in front of his face brought him back to the present, “Dude, where were you?” Seth asked.
“I was –”
“Never mind where his damn head was at. We need to discuss this case,” Vaughn snatched the phone out of his hand, scrolling through the saved emails from their client.
Ronan sighed. Had he really just thought how perfectly in love he was with the big oaf? “Way to ruin the moment,” he muttered.
“What moment?” The question came from Seth, who was now fully dressed and shaved.
He sighed, reaching up and running his fingers through the silky softness of Seth’s onyx hair, “A sentimental moment. He ruined it and now you’re my favourite,” he jested, tugging playfully on the inky strands.
“The kid’s always your favourite,” was Vaughn’s somewhat absent response but there was no animosity in it. None of them were insecure and none of them played favourites.
Seth grinned, “I’m your favourite too. Admit it, you love me being in the middle.”
Vaughn deigned to flick his eyes up at that and the heat in them was plain to see. Oh, yes, they loved it when Seth was in the middle.
“Enough playtime. We need to discuss this meet. We don’t know anything about this job. The client was suspiciously obtuse in their emails,” Vaughn grumbled.
Ronan chose to ignore Seth’s snicker over Vaughn’s use of the word suspicious again. What Vaughn said was actually true. They had received an email just days ago from an unknown female asking for help regarding a stalker. She hadn’t volunteered any details about her apparent stalker nor had she volunteered her name. She had merely outlined her situation in vague terms and agreed to pay their fee if they were able to get here within the week. There weren’t many enemies left for their kind; true witch hunters still existed and every familiar was on constant watch for signs of their presence. But their numbers had dwindled considerably over the years. Still, he wouldn’t put it past them to set a trap for them – witch hunters didn’t discriminate between killing witches and familiars. A magical being was a magical being to them and they hunted them all with equal fervour.
“We’ll tread carefully,” he told the others, “And if it turns out to be more than a simple job, we’ll inform the marshals and the conclave.”
They were still on good speaking terms with the conclave – the witching governing body – despite the fact they were deemed useless in regard to their roles as familiars. The marshals also came in handy every so often. They were essentially the police within the witch society and they had often worked with them in the past when the conclave had ordered it.
“I wouldn’t mind if it were the hunters,” Vaughn stated, “I could use a good fight.”
And therein lies his problem, Ronan mused. Vaughn could always use a good fight. Ronan just hoped the mysterious owner of the bar wasn’t involved with the hunters in any way. The thought of harming her made him a little sick to his stomach.