Rain hammered down outside the window of the taxi, catching the colourful lights of the city and shimmering, and making the cars parked along the road glisten. It was strange.
August couldn’t remember the last time he had seen rain.
Snow, yes.
Endless snow.
But not rain.
How long had it been since he had left the pride village high in the mountains and ventured down into the mortal world?
Years?
He leaned his right arm on the plastic that framed the bottom of the window, sighed and stared out into the night. At the rain. At the people. So many people.
The hour was late, but London was alive and buzzing.
Back home, high up in the mountains, it would be silent by now, the peace rarely broken by the sound of a roar from down in the valley as one of the big cats found prey or crossed paths with a rival.
Gods, he had always found it too quiet.
He had taken to filling the silence of the night with the song of females in his bed, their cries chasing away that dreadful quiet and bringing life and light into the darkness.
How long had it been since he had done that?
Too long.
After Cavanaugh had left the pride in his hands five months ago, he had been doing his best to run it and be a good alpha to everyone.
It was far harder than it had looked.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the busy and entrancing mortal world, and that magical rain, and huffed.
He had trade negotiations with a neighbouring pride in a little over a week and he didn’t have a fucking clue what that entailed, and asking Dalton, his second in command hadn’t helped. When he had grown the balls to ask him, Dalton had looked as lost as he felt. They were both learning this shit as they went along, making half of it up and hoping what they did was right, and what the pride expected.
Keeping his people happy, he could do, and had been doing well.
But dealing with land rights and trade of goods between prides?
He could wing the basics, but he couldn’t risk doing that with something as important as those two things. If he screwed up the impending negotiations, the pride would probably want him out, and he couldn’t allow that. He was the only heir to the position of alpha, which meant there would either be a fight between the strongest males in the pride to see who would take his place, or the pride would call upon a former alpha.
Cavanaugh.
His cousin had been raised to be an alpha, while August had been raised to play a supporting role.
Had he made a mistake by accepting Cavanaugh’s offer?
Had he been out of his mind to think he could be an alpha?
He wanted his cousin to be happy though, and the damned idiot would have stuck with tradition if he had taken back the mantle of alpha, making it impossible for him to be with his mate, and beloved, Eloise, because she was born of the lower ranks in the pride.
So August had stepped in like some fucking hero.
Who was the idiot now?
He flicked his eyes open and watched the world whizz past, listening to the background noise of the driver’s radio, the methodical clunk of the windscreen wipers and the whoosh of the tyres as they cut through the water on the road.
Still, Cavanaugh was with Eloise at last, and for better or worse, August was in charge of the pride.
It should have been grand.
Alphas were never short of female company, which was exactly the way he liked things.
Only life had a way of kicking him in the balls.
Sure, he had three prides trying to palm off females onto him, and several of the high-ranking females in his own pride making valiant attempts to bed him.
But now he didn’t have time for that shit.
Or the inclination.
Gods, he missed the old days. He would have bedded them all, maybe more than one at a time, using them to chase back that chilling silence of the night when his thoughts travelled paths he didn’t like, leaving him feeling cold inside, strangely empty.
He would have had his fill of them, used them to keep his bed warm all hours of the day and night, just like many of the pride’s alphas before him.
Hell, he had thought it would be a perk of the position, had imagined himself rolling in more females than ever, at least double the number he had used to invite into his bed.
Now, he had no lack of females who wanted him, but no desire to do anything with them.
His life had truly gone to Hell.
The stress of running the pride had him awake most nights, poring over documents and tearing his hair out as he tried to figure out what to do about the thousand issues and projects piled up on his desk, and busy every hour of the day, taking visits from members of the pride and hearing their problems.
His every moment, every breath, was dedicated to getting the pride back on their feet. It had been five months to the day since he had helped Cavanaugh defeat Stellan to free the pride of his vicious tyranny and had taken over leadership in Cavanaugh’s stead.
Five fucking months.
He hadn’t had the energy to even think about sex in that time, let alone actually do it.
And to top it all off, someone had started the rumour that he was sleeping with Dalton.
Like hell he was.
Dalton was a good male, and one hell of a looker, and always had his back, but neither of them swung that way.
The only reason August hadn’t crushed that rumour was because Dalton was seeing a female from the lowest ranks, and if their families found out, they would probably castrate him and castigate her.
No way he was going to let his best friend take the hit like that just because he was bucking tradition. August was behind him one hundred percent, would do whatever it took to help them be together, just as he had for Cavanaugh. He never had been cool with some snow leopard traditions.
Now he was caught up in them himself. As alpha, he could bed all the lowborn females he wanted, but he was expected to pick from the highborn or somehow find his fated one among the elite, the snow leopard female who had been made for him, if he ever chose to settle down.
If.
August had no intention of doing such a thing.
He sighed. Dalton would probably leap at the chance to settle down with the female he was seeing. It was obvious his friend loved her. The male pined for her when they were apart, and couldn’t keep his eyes off her when the pride were celebrating something and everyone was gathered in the square of the village.
August should have turned him down when he had offered himself as his second in command. Maybe then Dalton could have found a way to be with his female. Now, because of his elevated position, he was expected to choose a female from within his own social sphere.
He couldn’t do this without Dalton though.
His friend was indispensable, kept him sane when he was losing his mind, and pulled him up whenever he tripped and fell. He was more than a right hand man. He was vital.
So vital that August had left the pride in his capable hands while he flew halfway across the world to London.
August hated to admit it, but it felt fucking good to be away from the pride and his responsibilities there.
He hadn’t come all the way here for pleasure though. He had come on business.
The business of saving his arse.
He looked up at the redbrick warehouse to his right as the taxi pulled up outside it, at the bright neon sign that hung above thick steel doors.
Underworld.
August slipped the driver his money, grabbed his duffle bag and opened the door. He stepped out onto the wet tarmac, slammed the door and stared up at the sign as the car pulled away, leaving him alone in the night, rain pouring down on his face.
Damn, it felt good.
Cleansing.
He closed his eyes and let it wash over him, let it carry away some of his nerves.
The doors of the club opened and laughter burst around him, and he watched the two females staggering away, heading towards the main road.
He eased inside the nightclub in one fluid motion before the door closed, not touching it, and stilled in the darkness. The twenty-foot-wide corridor opened out a short distance ahead of him into a huge space. Flashing colourful lights stuttered across the black wooden bar that ran along the right black wall of the club, and the dance floor that filled the rest of the space to the left. It was still busy, close to one hundred people writhing against each other to a heavy rock beat. Halfway up the height of the building, a balcony ran around three sides of the dance floor, only absent above the bar. A few couples were making out up in the booths he could see, and more than one of the enclosed spaces had the curtain drawn across to give the occupants some privacy.
Cool air washed over him, and his nerves vanished, his head growing a little light as he breathed it in. What was in the air conditioning vents? Whatever it was, it was good.
He drifted towards the bar, suddenly feeling mellow and as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The pride? Not a problem. Trade negotiations? Whatever.
A low growl sounded ahead of him.
It rankled a little, and he instinctively flashed fangs, although he wasn’t sure where the threat was coming from.
There were a lot of different species in the club, and he smelled more than one shifter.
And also the shifter he had come to see.
“Sherry, check on the boss,” Cavanaugh’s deep voice rang through the room, cutting through the thumping music.
A pretty blonde of indiscernible breeding bounced along the bar towards him, bringing his gaze with her, and he frowned when she stopped and his eyes settled on the one who had threatened him.
A big, very pissed off looking, male with tousled short sandy hair and enough muscle packed beneath his white shirt to make it clear August wouldn’t win in a fight against him.
At least not in his human form anyway.
The male’s golden eyes glowed, his face in shadow as lights twirled above him, shifting colour.
“Kyter?” The one called Sherry touched his shoulder and he snarled at her. She snatched her hand back, looked over her shoulder, and hollered, “You deal with it. I dealt with him last time!”
Cavanaugh set a tall glass down in front of a male at the bar, heaved a sigh and turned towards him.
Froze.
His grey eyes widened, locked on August, a ripple of surprise crossing his face a second before he scrubbed a hand over his softly-spiked silver hair and stomped towards him.
“I have this,” he said, voice a gruff growl as he approached the female. She squeezed past him and went back to serving the customers. He reached the male at the end of the bar and slapped a hand down on his shoulder, and didn’t release him when he growled at him, baring short fangs. “This is my cousin, August.”
The blond male looked him up and down, curled a lip and pivoted on his heel, striding away from Cavanaugh.
Cavanaugh rolled his broad shoulders, stretching his white shirt even tighter across them, and offered an apologetic smile. “Kyter isn’t good with male shifters wandering in unannounced.”
It was a territory thing.
Now that he knew the male’s name, he knew why he had reacted so badly to his presence.
Kyter owned Underworld, had taken Cavanaugh in a few years back when he had left the pride after Stellan had defeated him. August eyed the blond. According to Cavanaugh, he was a jaguar. Highly territorial.
It explained the pheromones the club was pumping out in the air conditioning.
Cavanaugh grabbed a tall glass, stuck it under one of the pumps, and pulled him a pint. He set it down on the bar and nodded towards it.
“Sit, and tell me what the hell you’re doing here.” His cousin leaned on the bar near the drink.
August walked to it, slid onto the stool and set his duffle down beside him. “I should have called first.”
Cavanaugh’s lips curled at the corners, and his grey eyes twinkled. “You could have just called.”
It hit him hard that he could have. He could have used one of the pride’s satellite phones and called Cavanaugh to talk about how the hell to handle trade negotiations.
Instead, he had got on a plane and flown all the way to London.
“It’s fine,” Cavanaugh said, his smile gaining a sympathetic edge. “Even alphas need a break from time to time. Look at my father. He was always away on ‘business’.”
The feeling that had been building in his gut, a vicious sort of squirming that had set him on edge, eased on hearing that and seeing in Cavanaugh’s eyes that his cousin thought he had done nothing wrong by leaving the pride.
He hadn’t realised that it had been a need to get away, a need to have some space, that had put him on the plane and had him flying away from the pride, from his responsibilities, though. It hadn’t even crossed his mind until Cavanaugh had said it.
He had been so focused on a need to speak with Cavanaugh that he had been convinced the only way to do it was face to face.
August looked down at his beer. Fucking idiot.
Cavanaugh slapped his shoulder, and August was thankful he had chosen his left, and not his right. Damn thing was still healing after their fight against Stellan.
“Don’t beat yourself up. A break will do you good.”
He nodded, lifted his beer to his lips and took a swig. Damn, it was good. Not as good as the homebrew they had at the village, but it was still good. Different. It was freezing cold for a start, not warmed over a fire.
“I lasted all of a month before I took a break.” Cavanaugh grinned at him, and August couldn’t tease him about that.
Cavanaugh had been pushed into a position that had taken him away from Eloise, had separated them because of their status, and it had almost killed him.
It was good to see the old Cavanaugh back though, the one who smiled and laughed. It made everything August had done worth it, and everything he was going through.
“Sometimes I feel as if I’m drowning in all the requests, and appointments… and all the bigger picture shit too… like this trade negotiation in eight days.” August swigged his beer again, savouring the crisp coldness of it that turned to heat as it slid down into his stomach.
Cavanaugh rested both forearms on the black bar top and his eyes searched August’s, his face a mask of seriousness.
“When were you thinking of going back?”
August shrugged. “The day after tomorrow. That’s the next flight.”
His cousin pulled his phone from the pocket of his black trousers, swiped over the screen as it illuminated his face, making his eyes more silver than grey, and then shoved it away again.
“Make it the one after. It’s only four days… but it will be good for you.”
He found himself nodding, because four days sounded heavenly. He needed some space, some time to get his head straight and learn from Cavanaugh about how to run the pride. He would still be back in time for the meeting.
Cavanaugh was right.
Some time away would be good for him.
He hadn’t noticed that the club was emptying until a door off to his left, beyond the end of the bar, opened, throwing a flash of white light across the room. He glanced there, and couldn’t stop the smile that curved his lips when he saw the pretty brunette stood with her back to the door, her golden-brown eyes searching the length of the bar.
Eloise.
She spotted him and her smile lit up her face. She lifted her arm, pulling up the hem of her plain dark t-shirt with it, and waved.
Cavanaugh’s dark grey gaze swung her way and brightened, a corona of pure silver ringing his pupils as he saw his mate.
Eloise hurried towards them on August’s side of the bar, and rocked him by pulling him into a hug the moment she was within reach. “I thought I smelled company.”
Cavanaugh growled at his mate, or was it him? It didn’t stop August from hugging her back, squeezing her tight and earning another low snarl from his cousin.
Eloise released him, leaned over the bar beside him, caught hold of the front of Cavanaugh’s white shirt and pulled him towards her. She kissed him. It was one way of shutting his cousin up. Cavanaugh grabbed her under her arms and hauled her over the bar.
August snatched his beer a split-second before Eloise’s legs swept through that spot, saving it and holding it at shoulder height. Damn good job he did too, because Cavanaugh twisted her into his arms, so her feet arced across the bar right in front of August. He was on the verge of lodging a complaint when Cavanaugh kissed her.
Damn, it was good to see them.
It made him feel that everything was worth it, really worth it, and that he had made the right decision, because they were so happy together.
But it also triggered that strange cold feeling that had kept him awake at night for decades, that had bothered him since the day he had realised Eloise was Cavanaugh’s mate.
He would never have what they shared.
It was rare for his kind to find their fated ones, because they were always another snow leopard, and their numbers were low and their prides spread far and wide. Most snow leopards settled for falling for another of their kind and mating with them, but the bond they shared was nothing compared to the bond between fated mates.
A bond Cavanaugh and Eloise shared.
One that made him a little envious.
One he felt sure he would never find for himself.
