Chapter Nine

B ecause of course he turned into a cat. If there was any one animal close to Micah's nature, it was one of those four-footed house-elves with a superiority complex. He went directly to the guest room, and if he'd had a way to lock the door from the outside, he would have.

He didn't trust himself not to give in and cross the hall to Anders' room.

The wolf's invite might have been wine-fueled, but damn , did Micah want to take him up on it. He couldn't, though. He'd meant it when he said he didn't deserve someone like Anders.

Someone tall and sturdy, with strength in his shoulders and wisdom in his eyes. The kind of guy who took care of his stuff. His people.

Who'd take care of Micah.

Yeah, he'd come here because he needed an ally, but now he was too lame to ask for what he wanted. Micah might have indulged that one night at the cabin, but no more. He needed to stay hidden, and he should just be grateful that he had a warm bed and decent company.

By the time he woke up the next day, it was afternoon and Anders was long gone. He'd sent Micah a text, though.

Want to see a band tonight? Friday tradition. Pack will be there. Make yourself at home. See u later.

Micah sat with that for a while. Make yourself at home? See a band? And the pack? More than just welcoming him into his home, Anders was welcoming Micah into his life. He couldn't help but smile.

That smile faded when he saw Jessie's text.

The bank says you made the deposit yourself, and we needed the cash so I spent it. Sorry.

That message was both frustrating and a little scary. Micah hadn't made the deposit, but someone wanted it to seem like he had, and with the money spent, he was back to owing that someone a favor.

Damn it .

He couldn't really be mad at Jessie. Raising a kid was tough, and Micah had missed out on most of it. Plus, Micah had made a habit of dropping chunks of change into Jessie's bank account. Jessie had no way of knowing this time wasn't real.

Okay, well, there was no way to fix things now. He told Jessie to keep an eye on Anna and let him know if anything else weird happened. Then Micah let it go. He'd have to confront Seth Damyan at some point, but first he needed to figure out a strategy that would keep them all safe.

Meanwhile, he had Anders' permission to make himself at home, so he did. There was leftover steak from dinner and he found a couple of eggs in the fridge. He made a quick breakfast—technically lunch because it was almost two in the afternoon—cleaned up the dishes, then decided to explore the second floor.

The stairs were to the left of the front door, a broad set that made a single turn at the middle. The landing at the top was spacious, with five doors opening off it and a little nook that held a comfy chair and a small bookcase in one corner.

Starting on his right, Micah stuck his head into each room. The first was an office that had a substantial desk, a small but overloaded bookcase, and one of those futon loveseats that pulled out to make a bed. The two rooms in the center were bedrooms with a bathroom in between them, the kind with two sinks and a toilet in the closet. One bedroom was done up in shades of gray and the other was decorated in rose and cream.

The last room was more interesting to him. An upright bass stood in one corner with a piano next to it. Racks on the opposite wall held three guitars and an electric bass, and a monitor and a couple of amps sat underneath them. Micah picked up one guitar, a hollow-body acoustic, and strummed.

Almost in tune.

Smiling, he sat on the piano bench. There was probably an electric tuner someplace, but he plucked the strings and adjusted the pins, coaxing them closer to the familiar E – A – D – G – B – E.

Micah could play. His fourth-grade music teacher had been the one to first hand him a guitar, and after that, he taught himself. Music had brought him and Jessie together, a couple of high school losers who had a thing for rockabilly and shoegaze. He closed his eyes and let his fingers do whatever they wanted, creating arpeggios on random chords that slowly took the shape of a song.

It was one of his own, a melody he'd come up with when he was about fourteen years old. It had been so long since he played that his fingers were stiff, his chord changes rusty. Life under Seth Damyan's thumb hadn't lent itself to music, but for this little island of time, he let himself fumble his way back to his past.

It didn't take long before his fingertips complained since he no longer had callouses from regular playing. When he couldn't ignore the strings' bite any longer, he gave up and moved to the piano.

Here, he didn't know much more than Chopsticks, but he plinked the keys anyway. If Jessie signed Anna up for piano lessons, his child would have more chances than he'd ever had, a thought that made him both happy and sad. Closing the lid over the keys, he put his head down on folded arms.

He'd lost so goddamn much.

But Anna was safe. That was what mattered.

He repeated those two phrases in his mind, clinging to them like they could save him from the mess he'd made.

The front door opened. For a heartbeat, Micah panicked, but then Anders called his name. Okay, it wasn't one of Damyan's minions, but what if make yourself at home didn't include this room?

"Hello?"

Anders' greeting should have sent Micah running for the stairs. Instead, he reached for the guitar, strumming through the opening chords of some Pearl Jam thing that would for sure catch Anders' attention. Micah wanted to know if he was trespassing or not.

His trick worked. Anders jogged up the stairs, coming through the door with a smile on his face. "You play."

Micah's cheeks heated. "A little." He lost track of the music and his fingers got tangled in a chord.

"More than a little, I'd say." Anders moved closer, bringing with him the scent of sweat and the wild smell of wolf.

"You must play, too." Micah got up and waved Anders toward the piano bench.

The wolf chuckled softly, one hand massaging the back of his neck. "Jasmine used to take lessons, and she practiced here because I had space for a piano and Delilah didn't."

Micah glanced at the row of guitars. "You play guitar?"

"Nah." Anders gave him a slow smile. "Maybe you could teach me."

Now that seemed like an invitation if ever he'd heard one. Micah matched Anders' smile with one of his own. "I'll make you work."

"Ha. I'm sure you would."

Knowing full well they weren't only talking about the guitar, Micah gestured to the stool. "We can start now."

Anders' smile faded some. "I need to clean up first."

"Okay. Later, then." He felt weirdly disappointed, mainly because he'd wanted to do something for Anders. The wolf took care of his pack, he'd offered Micah a safe place to stay, and he'd apparently bought a damned piano for his sister's kid. Who takes care of Anders? "Looks like you've been working hard."

"Another day, another dollar."

Micah set the guitar aside. "Did you and your crew build this place?"

"More or less. I did a lot of the finishes myself."

"You're good." Micah wasn't necessarily talking about construction.

Anders stuffed his hands in his pockets, color rising in his cheeks. "Hey, so, what do you think about going to see a band tonight?"

"I don't know…"

"I mean, the tavern's just up the road, and it'll mostly be pack hanging out."

"I'm not sure I should be seen by any of them. I mean, the more they see me, the more likely it is that one of them will say something and…" He ran out of gas. Saying anything else would require more explanation than he was willing to give.

"Well, could you… I don't know, maybe… look different?"

Anders sounded so apologetic Micah had to laugh. "You mean like this?" He closed his eyes and ducked through his room-out-of-time. He came back as a stranger. Taller, darker, with a scar bisecting one eyebrow and thick gold rings on his ring and middle fingers. He'd wanted to be tougher, to better balance the wolf's energy.

"Wow," was all Anders said.

"Is that a good wow or a bad one?" Micah took a couple steps in Anders' direction, grinning at the way his nostrils flared. His blue-eyed wolf .

"You smell like him, but…"

Micah got close, almost touching distance. Last night, he'd turned Anders down, but apparently this persona had fewer reservations. He leaned closer still, inhaling deeply from the space just under Anders' ear. "I can look like anyone you want. Name the guy you dream about, and I'll come real close."

Anders cleared his throat. "This is good right here."

Micah flicked his tongue out and licked Anders' neck. "You gonna be able to explain things to your pack when you show up with a stranger and your dick is hard?"

Laughing, Anders ran a hand down Micah's chest. "Not that I mind, really, but last night you turned into a cat."

"Last night Micah turned you down. I'm Gage. Now, how are you going to explain me?"

Anders' laugh was shaky. "Grindr."

"That's it? That's all you're going to tell them?"

Anders shrugged, running his hands along Micah's bare arms. Bare because he wore one of those muscle tees that revealed almost as much as it covered.

"Grindr'll shut them up. The only one I would truly owe the truth to is Potter, and he won't be there."

"Let's go, then."

"We can stop and get pizza or something first."

Micah's stomach growled, which was answer enough. Anders went to grab a shower and change out of his work clothes while Micah went downstairs and sat in front of the big fireplace.

This place was just so fucking comfortable. The last thing he needed to do was get used to it. Shaking his head, Micah made himself focus so he could come up with a cover story.

Because he always had to have a cover story. Or almost always, anyway. He needed it to be both brief and bulletproof, something he and Anders could spit out without drawing too much attention. He'd already come up with a name: Gage Johnson. He just needed a backstory.

"How 'bout this." He stared at the pile of embers in the fireplace and spun a yarn in his head. Gage was on his way through, up from LA and heading for Alaska. He'd stopped near Elwha because he wanted to see some old trees.

He might look like a badass, but he had the soul of a poet.

There. That was his story. Micah had learned the hard way that it was better to give too few details than too many. The same people who could fill in the blanks of his skeleton story would catch every wrong detail and contradiction if he tried to get fancy.

And yeah, the fact that no one really knew who Micah Jenkins was, that no one had seen his real face or heard his real name in years, weighed on him.

Would Micah even recognize his true face if he saw it in a mirror? Didn't matter. He was Gage now.

He ducked back into his room-out-of-time and returned with a leather jacket and black knit cap. Had he packed a leather jacket? No, but Gage would have one and so there it was. He'd long ago learned not to ask too many questions about how his magic worked.

Mainly because no one really knew the answers.

Anders came out of his room, his dark hair damp and combed off his face. His jeans fit his ass to perfection. A perfect distraction, too.

"Damn," Gage murmured, his mouth going a little bit dry.

"I could say the same." Anders offered his hand. "Come on. We'll take my car."

Wordlessly, Gage did as Anders suggested, and together they left that big, beautiful house.

Jesus fucking Christ . Anders had about swallowed his tongue when Micah overhauled his appearance. I'm Gage , he'd said. Fuck yeah . Gage ticked off so many of Anders' boxes that he'd call him anything he wanted.

They headed into Port Angeles, to a pizza place called The Roosevelt. They could have eaten closer to home, but the food was better at The Roosevelt and Anders wanted Micah—Gage now—to have a good time.

"If anyone asks, I'm on a road trip." Gage leaned forward with his arms propped on the tabletop. His knit cap rode low over his brow, not quite hiding the scar. "Riding my bike from LA to Ketchikan."

"You mean a Harley, right? And not a mountain bike?"

Gage grinned. "That works."

He started spinning stories about his trip so far, with just enough truth in them that Anders figured he'd actually ridden a motorcycle up the Pacific Coast at some point. The pizza arrived—plain old pepperoni—and it smelled amazing.

Gage smelled like Micah, though, and Anders wondered if he should say something. The pack would never connect this tall dude with the tats and the attitude with the other guest at the hunting cabins, but they'd likely know they'd smelled him before.

"So what about you?" Gage asked. "What's the farthest you've ever traveled?"

There was a note of challenge in Gage's voice, like he was daring Anders to confess he'd never gone further than Seattle. He hadn't, not really. Except for that one time…

"I spent about six months in London right after college."

"That's awesome. Was it some kind of exchange program?"

"You might say…" Anders was momentarily distracted by the way Gage's lips curled when he smiled. Same as Micah, but rougher around the edges. "If you track our family tree back far enough, we've got roots with a pack in south London. I did sort of an exchange with that pack. They sent one of their young alphas here and I went there."

"I bet that was a great experience." Gage sounded wistful, though he soon shook it off. "Tell me about the band we're going to see."

"They're good, a local group that plays a mix of covers and originals. They veer toward middle-of-the-road stuff, but we like them."

Gage came up with other questions: about the band, about his pack, about just about everything to do with Anders' life.

Anders learned only two things. One, Gage's mannerisms were more like Micah's than he probably realized, and two, despite the ease of their conversation, he didn't learn jack shit about Gage. Or Micah. Or whatever else he wanted to call himself.

Oh, and there was a third thing he learned. He wanted Micah. Gage was pretty to look at, but his wolf had connected with Micah .

And wasn't that just a scary thought.

"Damn," Gage said, gnawing on the last slice of pizza. "I'm not going to be hungry again till Tuesday."

"Me too." Anders leaned back in his seat, giving his overstuffed gut some extra room. "I could go home and curl up in bed really easy."

Gage's smile grew naughty. "I'd be up for that."

Anders massaged his own shoulder, exhaling a long breath. "Nah. If I skip the band, I'm going to get texts from Delilah and Simon and Willy and every other damned pack member, all wanting to know where I am."

Gage's eyes got that wistful expression again. "Hey, at least they care."

"They do." Anders reached across the table, covering Gage's hand with his own. "One set, and then we'll curl up in bed."

Gage interlaced their fingers. "I'm thinking we'll do more than curl."

That made them both laugh. "It's a date."

"I'll hold you to it," Gage said, and Anders squeezed his fingers.

"Yeah." Not the most articulate response, but it was hard to speak the way his throat had closed up. This thing, whatever it was, had gotten under his skin in the worst way. To distract himself, Anders flagged down the waitress and, after a brief debate with Gage, paid the bill. They walked out together, Gage's hand on the small of Anders' back. The possessiveness of the gesture felt so right. For a moment, Anders wondered if it would be worth all the texts just to get Gage alone.

He couldn't, though. Not really. Potter was counting on him to keep an eye on things, to make sure Willy didn't get too hammered and that nobody else did anything stupid. He'd be pushing his luck by leaving after the band's first set, especially because once he and Gage were home, he had every intention of silencing his phone. He'd have to deputize someone.

Delilah would be an obvious choice, as long as she didn't have to bail Jasmine out of some ridiculous teenage drama. Maybe Simon. Dude had less of a temper than Willy and putting him in charge would keep him from drinking as much as usual. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it'd have to do.

Located next to the highway, the tavern was a single structure surrounded by a gravel lot framed by evergreens. The sun had dropped below the trees, taking the temperature with it, and before they reached the door, Anders noticed Gage shivering.

"We can start off with some whiskey to warm up," he murmured. This time he kept his hand on Gage's back. He had every intention of letting the pack know he had a date so they could fuck right off with their nosy-neighbor questions.

Inside, the room was about half full. To their right, the bar took up half the wall. Booths lined the wall opposite it, with tables scattered between in no discernible order. The front quarter of the building held a low stage and space for dancing, with an honest-to-god disco ball hanging in the middle of the dance floor.

Nodding to Simon and Willy, Anders steered Gage toward the alcohol. The smell of wolf all but overwhelmed the old-beer-and-grease odor. The Sandersons, pack members who were closer to Potter's age, were at a table, and Delilah's best friend Kitty leaned against the bar. Kitty was a witch, or at least claimed to be. She tended to boast about a lot of things, so Anders was never sure what was real and what was bullshit.

Kitty returned his nod with one of her own. "Anders," she said, her gaze on Gage, her smile all but bursting with curiosity.

"Where's Del?"

"Arguing with Jasmine, as usual. She said she'll be along in a minute." Her focus on Gage grew stronger. "Introduce us?"

"Gage Johnson." Gage extended his hand and they shook. "Pleased to meet you."

"Kitty Perkins." She batted her long, long eyelashes at him. They had to be false, though he'd never seen her without them. No human eyes could possibly grow lashes that long.

"Kitty's friends with my sister Delilah."

"I've heard good things about both of you," Gage said, speaking low. Their conversation was stopped by the band, who cranked up an old AC/DC cover.

"Let's order something." Anders spoke into Gage's ear, deliberately closer than necessary, staking his claim.

One shot of whiskey led to two. Gage had stopped shivering, but now Anders started, every time Gage touched him or smiled his way. This one's mine, Kitty Perkins. Go find your own .

Delilah rolled in late, spitting glass because she'd busted Jasmine fooling around with some guy who wasn't a wolf. "She's spent her life learning what a bad idea that is. Goddamn it."

Putting his arm around his sister, Anders bought her a shot of whiskey and a beer. Gage stood on the other side of her, the three of them leaning with their backs to the bar.

"So, Gage," Delilah said, eyes narrowed like she'd already guessed there was more here than she could see. "How long have you been in town?"

"Couple weeks," Gage said, his words slow, almost a drawl.

"And how long will you be staying?"

"'Bout the same."

Anders had to stifle a smile. He could almost see a cigarette hanging from the corner of Gage's mouth.

"How'd you two meet up?" Delilah's gaze shifted from Anders to Gage and back.

"Grindr," Gage said, making it sound filthy.

Delilah rolled her eyes. "So this is a hookup gone bad?"

"Or good," Anders said, smirking.

Kitty stalked over, her heels so high she probably should have some kind of safety harness on. "Dance with me," she said, taking hold of Gage's arm.

He glanced at Anders over the top of her curls and grinned. "Sure."

They headed for the dance floor while brother and sister side-eyed each other. "Might want to get out there and protect your date," she said.

"It's fine." Even as he said it, Anders wondered at his own conviction. The guy had described himself as omnivorous, after all.

"If you say so."

"Trust me, D. He's going home with me tonight."

"TMI, big bro."

That made them both laugh. Kitty smiled like she was queen of the world, while Gage grinned at Anders every chance he got. Anders liked the view just fine—Gage's long legs, broad shoulders, and tight ass, all infused with a touch of danger.

He liked it all, as long as he didn't think too hard. Even though he knew Gage was Micah, he missed the OG version. Or rather, his wolf did. The wild part of himself, the part that lived on four feet and instinct. Somehow, his wolf had connected with Micah in a way Anders had never before experienced. They weren't mates—not yet—but from his spot against the bar, he realized they could be.

Gage moved to the music, putting on a show, and Anders couldn't keep from grinning even though his mind was unsettled. His wolf wanted Micah, and Anders figured Gage was close enough. From there, it was an easy jump to see he was in so deep he might never come out.

Was there a way back from this or were they already too far along the road to being mates?

"We got a couple more songs for y'all and then we'll take a break," the band's lead singer said. Anders took that as his cue and went to talk to Simon. His brother wasn't totally wasted, and as soon as he understood what Anders was asking, he traded in his Coors Light for a glass of soda water.

"I'll make sure everyone makes it out of here in one piece." Simon gave Anders a wicked smile. "Except you, of course. Your date looks like he's ready to tear you apart."

"Shut up." Anders cheeks flamed.

Simon raised his glass. "Cheers, big brother. Just…be safe, okay?"

Shaking his head, Anders went to find Gage.