“I should’ve known I’d find you in a place like this.” Lasse looked over his shoulder to see his oldest friend Thor glaring at the sexy scenery. “Haven’t you had enough of these weak little pups that don’t stick around long enough for round two?”
“I’m looking for permanence, you know that.” Lasse turned and winked as a young guy with a mop of red curls caught his eye and then wiggled his ass at him. “I figure shifters are the way to go seeing as that’s who my brother and father ended up with. Even Sebastian ended up with the leader of the hellhounds and he found his mate right here, in this club.”
“Bah.” Thor lowered his bulk into the booth. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on Lasse’s friend, but his broad shoulders and thick thighs took up a lot of room. Poseidon, Lasse’s father, always thought it was ironic that his son spent so much time with the Norse God of thunder, lightning, and storms but Lasse and Thor had been friends for almost longer than time. That didn’t mean Lasse needed his friend to rag on him now.
“Before you say it,” he said quickly, waving his hand to a cute young thing wearing nothing but the shortest pair of shorts Lasse had ever seen and biker boots, carrying a tray, “I’m aware that no one in this pack is my mate. I’d have met him by now if he was. But Damien doesn’t have a problem with me being here and they do get a lot of visiting shifters through the club. Four beers, thank you. Add them to my tab,” he said as the young man with the tray smiled at him. As the boy walked away, Lasse would swear that receding ass was winking at him and he nudged his cock into a more comfortable spot in his leathers.
“You’re getting lazy,” Thor yawned, showing a row of perfect white teeth. With his mass of long blond hair and muscular stature, he was attracting plenty of attention himself. “All you’ve been doing is sitting around here, night after night, letting these young things fawn all over you. You screw someone once, and then what? They leave you if you get too clingy. Why do they do that?”
“Because they’re not my mate; I’m not a Dom, and I just want someone to love me for who I am not what I can do for them.” Lasse’s good mood disappeared, and he scowled as the waiter with the barely clad ass set down four beers on the table. He didn’t need his best friend to remind him of just how clingy he could get at times. Was it so bad that all he wanted was someone to hold in his arms forever? Angry over Thor’s accurate assessment of the situation, even the sight of the young man walking away wasn’t enough to lift his spirits. But then Thor had a habit of doing that to him. “I don’t see you coming up with any other suggestions? All you’re doing is ruining my mood. You might not want to find your mate, but I do. I don’t even know why you’re here.”
“I came to see if the rumors about your baby brother were true.” Thor lifted his bottle and sculled half the contents before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Word around the cosmos is Baby’s been dumped with your daddy dearest and his puppy mate after causing a riot in another pack.”
“I wouldn’t let Claude hear you call him a puppy. He is the son of Fenrir after all.”
“Ah.” Thor’s eyes widened along with his grin. “So, news of you having yet another two half-brothers weren’t an exaggeration either. We all know how potent your father can be. How did the son of Fenrir react to being pregnant with twins?”
Chuckling, Lasse set down his beer and leaned closer to his friend. “It wasn’t Claude who gave birth,” he whispered. “It was Poseidon.”
“What?” Slapping his leg, Thor roared with laughter, causing more than a dozen heads to look their way. Not that Lasse or his friend were in any danger in a wolf pack, but Malacai, Damien’s second, shot them a wary glance. “Oh, my freaking gods, wait until Odin hears about this. He’ll have kittens.”
Considering Thor’s father had a similar reputation to his own father, Lasse wasn’t so certain. If anything, the news might cause the mighty Odin to curtail his travels somewhat, in case he met a male mate of his own. Only male couples who both had links to the gods could get pregnant and it was unlikely Odin ever worried about something so trivial seeing as it happened so rarely. Like himself, Thor had a wide circle of half-siblings. Personally, Lasse always wondered about Odin’s relationship with his four familiars – two wolves and two ravens. He seemed to spend a lot more time with them than any of his wives or consorts. It would be amusing if Odin got caught up in the latest wave of matings.
“Come on,” Thor said, slamming down his second empty bottle. Lasse had barely touched his. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But….” Lasse cast a longing look at the dance floor. Wolves were such uninhibited creatures and there were three subs vying for attention that’d caught his eye.
“You’ve got a better chance of finding your mate where we’re going,” Thor said, standing and stretching out his spine. That move alone was enough to cause the two men at the adjoining table to drool and Lasse resigned himself to being Thor’s wingman for the evening.
“Where are we going?” Lasse stood and blatantly rearranged his cock. His leather pants and waistcoat were ideal for Damien’s, but if they were going anywhere else, he’d have to change. Unlike Thor, Lasse didn’t like to stand out in a crowd. It was hard enough for him to blend in as it was thanks to his six feet seven inch stature. Combined with his wavy blond hair and matching beard, he often grumbled to close friends he looked like a blond Father Christmas; without the portly belly. Sometimes he wished he had more of Thor’s attitude, although he knew in his heart he was a lover more than a fighter. His friend always looked as though he was itching for a fight, even when he was relaxing.
And thinking that should’ve reminded me of the things Thor likes to do, Lasse thought as Thor’s eyes gleamed.
“We’re going to a fight club. No holds barred. Anything goes. It’ll be great. Don’t let go.” Grabbing hold of Thor’s ever-present hammer automatically, Lasse closed his eyes as he felt his molecules disperse.
Fucking fight club. So much for getting laid tonight. Because if there was one thing Lasse didn’t need in his life, it was a man with more testosterone than brain. Nope. He was looking for the same kind of twink like Abraxas’s sweet Jordan, or his brother Nereus’s equally adorable Raff. Thor was the testosterone junkie and he was exhausting enough even in small doses.
It’s only one night, Lasse thought as he re-materialized again, although as his nose was hit with the stench of stale sweat and his ears rang from the cheers in the crowd, he wondered for the millionth time in his existence, why he followed Thor around like a demented puppy. Watching people pummeling each other was not his idea of a good time.
/~/~/~/~/
“Jason, you’re up.” Jaxarinth Savopoulos looked up as he heard the English derivative of his name he learned to use long ago. Walking among humans was at times tiresome and in his opinion unnecessary, but…Jason tightened the leather cuffs that covered his wrists. “It’s a big money crowd tonight. Winner takes on all comers. Play your cards right and you’ll be walking out of here with a ton of coin.”
Ignoring the middle-aged speaker with the bad comb over, Jason felt his muscles flex in anticipation as he sauntered down the narrow corridor to the makeshift cage. Thousands of years before he’d made a vow not to isolate himself. During times of war, it was an easy promise to keep. But the present day wars were human inspired and technology based. No one fought with a sword anymore and distance killing didn’t hold Jason’s interest. He had no interests in politics or religion. Not anymore.
Fighting hand to hand became one of his few passions. Cage fights, underground fights; Jason didn’t care who or where. He showed up, punched and kicked the bad guys into the mat, concrete, or wooden floor and left with his winnings. The outcome was never in doubt, only the length of time it took him to win. It was why he moved around so much – it was the only way he could find anyone to fight him.
Maybe there’ll be a bear, his animal half nudged his mind and Jason’s step quickened at the thought. Human contenders never put up much of a fight against him, no matter how big they were. Over the years, Jason fought many lone paranormals in the human rings – refuges from their packs, clans, herds or tribes much like he was. Once, he’d even come across a vampire. The poor man spent so much time trying to control his fangs, Jason eventually felt story for him and punched his teeth out; all in the name of keeping the existence of paranormals a secret from humans, of course.
No bears. His animal half would have already scanned the crowd. No paranormals at all.
It’ll be an easy night for us then, Jason tried to cheer up the other half of his soul as he stepped into the cage. I’ll get us a bucket of chicken wings on the way back to the motel.
Muted silence greeted his attempted bribe and Jason sighed. The commentator was amping up the crowd; he’d heard it all before. His opponent barely came up to his shoulder, although he was prancing around as though he’d already won, doing that obnoxious ‘I see you’ motion with his fingers. All Jason was waiting for was the sound of the bell. As soon as he heard the loud ding over the yells from the audience, he swung into action.
It was halfway through his fourth fight, this time with an overblown windbag who was all mouth and trousers, that Jason’s animal half suddenly sat up and paid attention. Ducking around a flailing fist and landing a solid punch of his own, Jason tried to scan the crowd, unsure what or who his animal was focused on.
His opponent fell back against the steel bars of the cage; winded but not out. More’s the pity. What the heck? Jason barely caught sight of a huge blond man pushing through the crowds towards the cage before his opponent grabbed him around the neck. Furious at not being able to watch the man’s progress, although unsure why, Jason reached behind him and grabbed the man by his thick neck. “You should’ve stayed down,” he snarled, his animal half flashing behind his eyes. Three punches and a roundhouse kick later and his opponent did as he was told.
Turning, Jason saw the blond had reached the cage bars. He wasn’t alone. Another equally tall, white blond man stood with him and for a moment, recognition tugged at Jason’s memory. But whatever it was he was struggling to remember was from too long ago. Besides, he had more important things to worry about. For the first time in a thousand years, his animal half sang and Jason’s heart dropped to his stomach. He knew exactly what that meant.
“This really isn’t a good time. I’m working here,” he yelled, resisting the urge to move closer.
“This,” the blond man waved at the cage, “this is what you do for a living?” Jason could pick out every detail of the huge man’s face. The sweep of his hair, the elegant arch of his brows; the full lips framed by a delicious trimmed beard. One aspect stood out. The kindness and pain in the man’s deep brown eyes. Jason would bet his winnings the pain was for him and that wasn’t something he could face.
“This is who I am,” Jason spread his arms wide as he pulled on a sneer for the crowd. “If you can’t handle it, make sure you’re gone before I’m finished. I haven’t got time for this or you.” Turning his back deliberately, Jason waited for his next opponent. He knew the instant the man had gone; his animal half stopped singing.