Beat of my Heart Read online

Zeveride’s breath hitched as a handsome male with long flame-red hair stared at him with wide eyes, and it felt like all his years of following the pull was finally over. As if he were meant to be here, which was all sorts of crazy.

  “Hi.” Someone nudged his elbow.

  Zeveride wrenched his gaze from the captivating male and looked down at the young, blond-haired female beside him.

  Though all Okami wolves stopped aging in their twenties, he could usually gauge a person’s age by either their power, or the look in their eyes. His mother used to say eyes were the window to one’s soul and could reveal so much if one only took the time to look.

  This one was about midtwenties and carried the scent of the unmated about her. “Would you like something to eat?” She fluttered her lashes, brown eyes shining with invitation as she offered him a steaming bowl of food.

  Zeveride looked for the sexy, blue-eyed male, but he was gone.

  He nodded at the female flirting with him, careful not to encourage her. “I would, thank you.”

  After catching a few hours of sleep, Zeveride was nudged awake by a lean, seasoned warrior. “Kyrian said you wanted to take a turn on watch duty.”

  “I do.” Zeveride got to his feet.

  With a nod, the male indicated the area to be patrolled.

  Zeveride shifted into his wolf. Then, with a glance up at the millions of twinkling stars, he gave thanks for once again being a part of a pack.

  As he made his rounds, Zeveride kept all his senses tuned for any threats, but his thoughts kept straying to the blue-eyed, red-haired wolf he’d seen earlier. Who was he? It didn’t do to think about another pack mate in this way. The Okami wolves were to take mates that could give them offspring, and same sex matings weren’t looked favorably upon.

  It was funny, really. Over the years, all the other packs had been scared he’d mate one of their precious females and take her away from them, when in reality, he preferred males.

  He never understood why he was like that, but he’d eventually learned to accept it, though that didn’t mean he let anyone in on his secret.

  When his turn at patrol ended without any excitement, Zeveride nodded a greeting at the sentinel who took his place.

  He was halfway back to camp when the sensation of anticipation drew him to a halt.

  A moment later, a beautiful russet-colored wolf appeared directly in front of him.

  Zeveride’s pulse stuttered, then picked up speed.

  In a shimmer of sparkling light, the wolf changed into a lean, well-muscled male. A set of piercing blue eyes studied Zeveride. “You’re real.”

  “I am.” Zeveride wasn’t sure what the wolf meant or why he’d said what he had. But did it matter when it was all he could do to calm his racing heart? “Greetings.”

  “W-welcome to our pack.” The voice was quiet, almost shy.

  Zeveride put his age at mid to late twenties, and as he watched, the other male reached up with slender fingers and tucked an errant strand of shiny, long red hair back behind his ear. His face shone pale and porcelain smooth.

  “I’m Zeveride.” His whole body sizzled with awareness in a way it never had before in his entire life.

  “I’m Toren, and you’re … I saw you. I mean, your eyes … they are—never mind. Your wolf is beautiful.”

  Zeveride blinked. This sexy-as-sin male thought his wolf was beautiful? “Uh, thank you.”

  Toren’s cheeks turned red and despite Zeveride’s estimation of Toren’s age, there was an innocence to him that was endearing.

  Zeveride’s palms grew sweaty while he hardened.

  Kyrian joined them. “I see you’ve met my son.”

  Zeveride’s heart stopped. “Son?” Crap on a hellhound!

  Yet as he looked at the two, he could see it. Both were tall and extremely handsome, with flawless pale skin and similar facial structure; though, there the similarities ended. Kyrian’s face was much more rugged—weathered from time—and their eyes were different colors. Kyrian was also a little brawnier than Toren who was all slender, wiry muscle. Muscles Zeveride would love to explore …

  He silently cursed his wicked thoughts toward Kyrian’s son and reevaluated his decision to stay.

  If this was his reaction to the male after only a few seconds, remaining part of the pack may not be a good idea for any of their sakes.

  It was just his luck. He finally found someone he’s beyond attracted to, and it’s the king’s son.

  A son who would be expected to mate a female to give him heirs. A son who’d eventually take over the kingship.

  No male mate would ever do for that son.

  But at the thought of leaving, a dark despair settled over him.

  Kyrian clapped him on the shoulder. “Zeveride’s agreed to stay and help protect the pack.”

  “Um—” Zeveride started to say it was a trial basis, but the sudden smile on Toren’s face stopped him. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, but he’d definitely need to keep his distance from sexy Toren.

  Which turned out not as easy as he’d hoped.

  His attraction to the other wolf was so strong it was scary, and Zeveride had to fight the urge not to react like a possessive mate whenever an unmated female flirted with the redhead.

  4

  Promised to Another

  Off duty with nothing to do, and not wanting to stay around camp and watch the females drape themselves all over Toren, Zeveride set off on four legs. He started in a westerly direction when a familiar sweet scent caught up to him. Zeveride paused and glanced back the way he’d come. His whole body tensed in anticipation while his stupid heart began to thunder.

  A moment later, a small, russet-colored wolf emerged from the forest.

  Zeveride might have been able to ignore his feelings if he hadn’t noticed Toren watching him just as closely.

  While in camp, Zeveride constantly felt Toren’s gaze, though when he’d look, the redhead’s face was always averted, or he was talking to someone else.

  It was hard not to stare at Kyrian’s son.

  Zeveride kept himself away from the other wolf and spent much of his available time hunting.

  Now, as intense blue eyes held him immobile, Zeveride’s heartbeat picked up speed.

  Toren didn’t move. In fact, he seemed to be waiting for something, though Zeveride wasn’t sure what.

  They regarded each other for a long moment.

  There was a light tap at his mind, then when Zeveride accepted, Toren’s soft voice filled his head.

  “Hi.” A playful light flashed in Toren’s eyes, almost daring Zeveride to run—to try and leave him behind.

  Maybe he hadn’t given the sexy wolf enough credit.

  “Hi.” Zeveride thought of leading Toren on a game of chase and losing him, but realized he didn’t want to do that either. “You want to hunt?” he asked instead.

  Surprise followed by happiness lit the smaller wolf’s blue eyes. “I’d like that very much.”

  Zeveride turned away to hide the shiver of pleasure Toren’s voice in his head elicited.

  Toren fell in beside him.

  Happiness, rightness, something he hadn’t experienced since he was very young, since before his world exploded, flooded Zeveride.

  The two raced over the dry ground, kicking up clods of wet mud and snow as they sent a squirrel fleeing up a tree. Then they crossed the scent of rabbit.

  Zeveride slowed when he realized the last time he’d run with anyone had been when his brother was still alive. Nostalgia stabbed at his heart, making him stumble as he dropped down to a walk.

  Toren slowed to keep pace. “Are you all right?”

  Zeveride inhaled the scent of the other male and not wanting his memories to ruin this day, pushed the past aside. “I’m fine.”

  Ice-blue eyes looked at him—seared him—it felt as if they could see everything. “I’m fine,” Zeveride repeated.

  Toren dipped his head. “This is … really nice.”

  It
truly was.

  Before he could reply, a furry critter darted out of the bushes ahead of them.

  They gave chase. Zeveride let Toren take the lead and circled around to cut off their prey. “Take the kill,” he said when the moment was right.

  Toren started to do just that when another scent had them both pausing and lifting their noses.

  “Deer.” Toren’s wolf gazed at him, tongue lolling with what looked like a smile.

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  The rabbit got to live another day as they set off for bigger game.

  They tracked the deer and though it was in his nature to bring the prey down himself, Zeveride held back and let Toren help. It felt odd to do so, and while he knew Toren hunted with his friends and pack mates, Zeveride was used to hunting alone. Yet, it was nice working with another.

  When the deed was done, Zeveride gave silent thanks to Mother Nature for the food the deer would provide to the pack.

  Since it was easier to haul their catch back to camp as a human, Zeveride changed forms.

  Toren followed suit. “We hunt well together.”

  “We do. You’re very fast on your feet.” Zeveride went to pick up the deer.

  “I can carry it,” Toren offered.

  “I don’t doubt it, but I’ve got it.” Zeveride hefted the deer up over his shoulder.

  Toren looked pleased with his comment, then sobered. “Why do I get the feeling you usually hunt alone?”

  “Maybe because I do.”

  “You never hunt with anyone else?” Surprise filled Toren’s eyes.

  “No.”

  Toren started to speak and then stopped, a frown on his face.

  “Well, I’ve hunted with the wild wolves,” Zeveride added.

  “Really?” Curiosity shone bright in Toren’s blue eyes—eyes that made Zeveride’s breath catch every time he gazed into them.

  Zeveride turned away and started back toward camp. “Yes.”

  “It’s strange, but … I feel like I’ve known you forever,” Toren blurted.

  Though he felt the same way, Zeveride didn’t respond.

  “Well, this was … fun. Nice,” Toren added.

  “I agree.” It had been much nicer than Toren would ever know.

  “So, don’t you get lonely or tired of being a lone wolf?” Toren’s curious yet shy tone filled Zeveride with the urge to tuck the smaller male under his arm and keep him safe. To sniff and rub his face in Toren’s long, glorious hair, scent marking him, and taste his sweet, lush lips.

  He steeled himself against the impossible urges. “Sometimes, I guess.”

  “I’ve heard your name mentioned over the years but never thought I’d meet you,” Toren said.

  Zeveride had done many things in his life, some he wasn’t proud of, but all were to survive. “And I never thought I’d find your pack. In fact, I thought maybe it was myth and not real.”

  “Really?”

  Zeveride nodded.

  Toren matched him stride for stride. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “It was a long time ago.” Zeveride picked up the pace, ready to drop the subject.

  “Were you an only child?”

  As old memories surged, visions of watching his brother die, Zeveride took a deep breath and shook his head. His usual answer was yes, but for some reason he couldn’t, or didn’t want to lie to Toren. “No. I had a brother once. His name was Zakar.”

  Again, Toren’s eyes were on him, knowing, seeing, assessing. “I’ve hurt you, I’m sorry I asked.”

  It had hurt. Thinking of what happened to his brother always filled him with emotions that he usually pushed away and kept buried. But today, they weren’t so easy to shove back down into the depths of his mind. For some reason he wanted to tell Toren what happened. It was confusing. Maybe he was even lonelier than he’d realized, he thought as words spilled from his lips. “I’ve never talked about it to anyone … he was four years older than me. He taught me to hunt and track.”

  Toren frowned. “Was this after your pack was … I mean, after their demise? I thought you were the only survivor?”

  “I am.” But Zeveride understood what Toren was asking. It was custom for the fathers to teach their sons to hunt and track, unless they were no longer around, then the task usually fell to an uncle, then a best friend, and finally to an older sibling if there were no other options. It was the same for the females. Their mothers were the ones to train them in the same skills. “My father was a very impatient male who believed training a son was beneath him. He didn’t have any brothers, or friends really, so my brother took on the task.” Zeveride swallowed hard as memories assaulted him—the days spent chasing rabbits and squirrels with his brother. “Zakar was always so patient with all my questions, and instead of getting mad when I’d find myself sidetracked by another scent, he’d just laugh or tease me.”

  “I’m so sorry you lost him.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Zeveride had often wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t told his brother what he’d seen that fateful day. Zakar would surely be alive. Maybe. Would their pack have still been attacked? The guilt those questions elicited made him pick up his pace as if he could outrun it, though he knew that was impossible.

  “I’ve heard you’ve spent a lot of time in the human world. I’ve always wanted to see more of it.” Toren gave a wistful sigh. “But my dad is against it. Apparently, a long time ago, before I was born, the pack tried living close to a town in dwellings as the humans do. I guess it didn’t go well.”

  “Well, believe me, you aren’t missing much.”

  “Have you always been a lone wolf then, since you lost your pack?” Toren asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  Toren cocked his head to the side and looked up at him. “So you’re what now, twenty-eight?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m twenty-three.” Toren matched him stride for stride, impressing Zeveride even more. But sheesh, the guy was so young!

  “So, Zev, where have you traveled? You must have some great stories.”

  Zev? No one other than his mother and brother had ever called him that. Toren’s innocent excitement and sincerity was refreshing, and once again Zeveride found himself talking. “I’ve been all across the United States and Canada. Up into the Northwest Territories, Yukon, Alaska. Spent a couple of months in Europe, then came back. I’ve also been through Mexico to South America.”

  “I heard it’s really hot down there.” Toren leaned down, scooped up some snow, and then proceeded to pack it into a ball.

  “It is. I didn’t stay long. The wild wolves down that way are very small and look a lot like our coyotes up here, so people seeing me, a large black wolf tended to cause problems.”

  Toren laughed and the sound warmed Zeveride’s heart. “I imagine. That’s a lot of places, though. I’ve spent most of my life here in the western states.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Maybe.” They walked in silence until Toren spoke again. “I heard the Pacific pack in New Mexico is a little … wild.”

  Zeveride grinned. “They are.”

  “What happened?”

  Zeveride snorted. “They drank tequila in place of water, even though we can’t get drunk, and kept pushing their unmated females at me, both young and old.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” They were the only pack to try and entice Zeveride to mate with their females.

  “I’ve never tried tequila. Is it good?” Toren tossed the snowball at one of the sentries hidden behind a large boulder, then chuckled at his pack mate’s faux menacing growl.

  “I didn’t mind it at first, but after a bit I got sick of it,” Zeveride said.

  “Why were they trying to get you to take a mate?”

  “They didn’t want me to take a mate, more like have sex … and with a bunch of them.” Zeveride shook his head. “It had been beyond weird.” Most packs didn’t want him around the
ir females. But there’d been something off about them. “There were no young in the pack at all, the youngest was sixteen.” There had been the cave filled with bones though, one he’d accidentally stumbled across. In the middle stood a natural-looking stone altar, stained rust red and polished with many years of use. He hadn’t stuck around after that.

  “You think they wanted your help to create young?”

  “Ah, not sure. Maybe.” Likely, but he doubted it was that simple. The whole place had given him the creeps. It had felt like the Veil between the worlds of the living and dead were fraying. In fact, while snooping around he could have sworn he’d felt the otherworldly beings brushing against him.

  Yeah, he never stepped foot back in the state since.

  “Huh.” Toren looked away.

  But Zeveride caught a flash of wistfulness in the other male’s gaze. “What about you? I’ve seen the unmated females around you, yet you’ve not taken a mate. Waiting on someone special?”

  “No.” Toren cast him a sidelong glance. “Well, maybe.” Then he changed the subject. “Have you spent more time with humans or our kind, and which do you like better?”

  “Well, I’ve often worked in the human world, but I prefer to spend time in the wild, in nature.”

  “Good,” Toren said, and they both nodded at a wolf heading out on patrol.

  They continued in silence for a short distance before Toren asked his next question in a more subdued tone. “Have you ever thought of settling down with just one pack?”

  Zeveride looked at Toren. The way the smaller wolf held his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for an answer had Zeveride suddenly hard as rock. How he wished that lip was between his teeth. He’d nibble, lick, and taste until Toren moaned with delight. Then he mentally kicked himself for thinking such things. It was insane to even dream of such a thing. Toren was the king’s son, and with that came responsibilities and expectations. Besides, same-sex relationships had never, to his knowledge, been accepted by their kind.

  “No,” Zeveride lied. Other than in New Mexico, such a thing had never been offered to him. Well, until now. And now he didn’t know if he could stay. He’d found something he wanted even more than a pack to call his own, and it was something he could never have.