Wishing on a Blue Star (16 page)

“You make me sound like some kind of sexual predator.”

“You
are
a predator. In everything you do. It’s inherent in your nature as a shifter,” Grant conceded. “Believe me, I understand that. Add that to the whole rock star thing you have going and you get laid without even trying.”

“Well, I promise to sit back and let you do all the hunting tonight. I’m not in the market anyway. Drake will be waiting for me when I get back.”

“You lucked out there too, Wey. Drake’s one of the most powerful wizards in the Darkworld.
And
more importantly, one of the sexiest. Why the man drops everything when you come sniffing around is a mystery to me.” Grant pushed Weylyn’s hand out of the way and grabbed some peanuts, popping them into his mouth.

“Oh, I agree I lucked out with Drake. All that hotness and power at my disposal whenever we’re in the same area. It’s a total turn on.”

Weylyn sighed contentedly. He did enjoy having Drake as a best friend and occasional lover. They fit well together for men who weren’t mates. He wondered again why he hadn’t ever hooked up with Grant. He loved the guy. They were close friends and had known each other a long time, yet neither of them had ever seen fit to hit on the other. Grant always joked that Weylyn wasn’t his type, but somehow, Weylyn didn’t quite buy that.

He would have jumped Grant if he’d ever been given the slightest indication that the other man would welcome his advances.  The younger man had a lean, attractive body with muscles that rippled beneath his clothing, shaggy dishwater blond hair that probably felt like rough silk, and deep blue eyes that made Weylyn think of the deepest part of the Mediterranean. Why he’d never tapped the taut ass that filled out Grant’s jeans had always been a bit of a stumper to Weylyn.

He watched Grant’s gaze follow a tall, dark-haired man who had to be a Fallen Angel. The man leaned over the end of the bar and spoke to the bartender, then disappeared into the back. Yep. An Angel. Only the Angels were allowed in the back room of
In the Light
. The bar had long been a hangout for them, and the owner had given them their own taproom in the back. Fallen Angels and their guests were the only people allowed there. Weylyn had been there once with a lovely Angel named Aimee. He remembered fucking her on a pool table when everyone else had left. He also remembered that the room had a built-in portal to each of the Five Realms.

“Tell me the truth, Grant,” he murmured as he absently eyed the door to the Fallen Angels’ taproom. “Why did you always stop me from hitting on you?”

Grant stared down into his ale for a long moment, his jaw working. Then he looked up, his blue eyes filled with sadness. “Because I would have only been a fuck for you, Weylyn, a good time with a friend. But I’m just not made like you. I would have wanted more from you than you were willing to give, so it was better that we stay platonic friends,” he explained softly.

For a moment, Weylyn wondered why he had never known that about Grant. Why hadn’t he sensed it? He wasn’t usually so boorish. But then his innate honesty rose to the surface. He hadn’t known because he hadn’t
wanted
to know.  Breaking the heart of a guy like Grant would be a bad, bad thing.

He stared at Grant intently. “I would do anything for you, man. You know that.” He willed his friend to know the truth of his words.

Grant smiled so wide Weylyn could see his fangs. “I do know it. I’ve always appreciated the lessons you’ve taught me, Wey.” He turned away for a moment, sipping his drink, then glanced at Weylyn, his head angled to the side. “Do you remember the first time we ever had a run-in with Trainor?”

“Yeah.” Weylyn frowned. “Why?” He’d never liked Trainor. The wolf had a mean streak a mile wide and a know-it-all attitude that bordered on bullying. If you were his friend, you were golden. If not, you could expect to be derided every time you came within earshot. Trainor was the kind of guy where you were either with him or against him. And if he really didn’t like you, he made a “frenemy” of you so he could keep an eye on you. As far as Weylyn was concerned, anything to do with Trainor was all bad.

Grant shifted his shoulders, wincing a little at the movement. “You told me for a man of worth and honor, doing the right thing always outweighed everything else.  You told me not to dish out to Trainor what he dished to me and to others, that two wrongs don’t make a right, and to make sure that the people who mattered knew what I knew of Trainor’s bad behavior. You practically
made
me tell Mel.”

Weylyn remembered the incident well. He’d used it as a lesson to Grant about watching your friends.  When he and Grant had first met, Grant had been good pals with Trainor, running with him in a group of friends from the pack. But Weylyn had seen the ruthlessness in Trainor, the urge to win at all costs. The black wolf cared only for himself and his agenda. He surrounded himself with other wolves who would further that. Unfortunately, Trainor also had a charismatic personality, a self assurance that drew others to him. He could be very generous with his friends, but Weylyn had seen instantly that crossing Trainor would be bad news.

The incident in question had been about an acquaintance of Grant’s who’d been willing to do anything to be part of Trainor’s golden circle. Trainor and his pals had hazed the young wolf, expecting Grant to take part as well. Grant had been appalled at their behavior and refused to join in the hazing. At that point, Trainor had turned on Grant too. Weylyn had stepped in before anything bad could happen, but the bad blood between Grant and Trainor had been born that night.

He and Grant had taken Grant’s friend back to the pack estate and made sure he was okay. Then Weylyn had given Grant a lecture on friendship and loyalty and belonging. And he’d insisted that Grant tell his Alpha about Trainor. Melina had reinforced Weylyn’s words and had gone so far as to mention that she’d already had an inkling of Trainor’s bad behavior.  As uncomfortable as Grant had been telling Mel about Trainor, he’d been relieved that she’d already suspected.  He’d told Weylyn about his meeting with Mel and thanked him for teaching him to always do the right thing.

“I remember,” Weylyn said quietly, dragging his thoughts back to the present. “Why’d you bring that up?”

Again, Grant made that uncomfortable shift of position, an almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders, as if his body hurt. “He’s been fucking around with people again.”

“Tell Mel. She’ll put a stop to Trainor’s antics or kick him out of the pack,” Weylyn said instantly. “Don’t dick around with this, Grant. You don’t know what Trainor’s capable of.”

Irony settled on Grant’s handsome features as his expression hardened. “Oh, I think I know more than most people how cruel and self-serving Trainor is. But that’s not the point. The point is that I won’t let him get away with hurting others when there is something I can do to stop it.”

“Good.” Weylyn nodded his approval. “Still, make sure Mel knows.”

Grant looked up, and their gazes met. Weylyn felt shock ripple through him at the depth of emotion in his friend’s eyes. Pain, regret, resolve, and a fierce determination all swirled in the blue irises.

“She knows.”

Then the werewolf flashed a huge, teasing grin that automatically drew an answering smile from Weylyn.

“So who would you hit on if you weren’t going home to Drake?” Grant asked, tipping his head toward the people who filled the booths of the bar. 

A laugh burst from Weylyn.  “Earlier, you acted as if I’d already fucked them all!”

His friend made a face, laughter turning his blue eyes almost turquoise. “Well, have you?”

Weylyn looked around the room and then sheepishly pulled the bowl of peanuts away from Grant. “Okay, maybe a few,” he said in a low voice.  “But none of the guys. I swear! I told you I haven’t been with many Fallen Angels.”

A predatory expression settled on Grant’s handsome face. “So, you think I could snag me one?”

Heaving a sigh, Weylyn reached out and patted his friend on the back, noting at once that Grant winced as if in pain. “I think if I had my choice, I’d rather fuck you than any of them,” he said softly. “You’re a keeper, Grant. Any one of those angels would be lucky to be with you, as would I.”

Grant grabbed hold of Weylyn’s hand and squeezed it tightly for a moment before letting it drop. “You’re a great guy, Weylyn. A good friend. I won’t ever forget the things you’ve taught me.”

“Good. Then you won’t forget how I taught you to approach a guy like that big one at the end of the bar whose cock I know you want to suck.” Weylyn winked lasciviously, and Grant laughed.

“I won’t forget, Wey.”

They stared at one another for a long moment, Grant smiling his usual half-hitched grin that made him look damned near irresistible. Then an odd sensation caused Weylyn to shiver a little. Grant’s gaze flickered, then fell.

Something propelled Weylyn to his feet. “I gotta run, dude. Drake’s waiting. But we’ll get together soon, okay?”

A shadow seemed to cross  Grant’s face, darkening his eyes once more. He mustered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure, dude. Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome.” Weylyn snatched up some more peanuts. “Thanks for the peanuts, Grant.”

He popped the nuts into his mouth and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on and turning toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he gazed back at Grant to find the werewolf eyeing the big Angel at the end of the bar. Then Grant looked up and waved briefly. Weylyn returned the wave and pulled the door open. Icy fingers trailed down his spine, and for a moment, his chest tightened with pain. Before the door shut, he saw Grant limping toward the Angel. They exchanged a few words, and then the Angel led Grant into the back taproom.

Some unknown force compelled Weylyn to turn around, and he took a step back into the bar, only to be brought up short as the bartender frowned fiercely at him. He sensed a chill in the bar that he hadn’t felt before. When he looked around, every eye in the place had fixated upon the door to the Angels’ taproom. Confused, Weylyn pulled open the bar door again, intent only on getting home and asking Drake to help him sort out what had just happened.

* * * *

Weylyn stepped out onto the street and turned toward the portal back to Drake’s penthouse. A few steps away from the bar, a woman fell into step beside him. They walked a half block before Weylyn turned his head to look at her. The Alpha of Grant’s pack had long, red-gold hair and keen green eyes that made her one of the most beautiful women Weylyn knew. However, tonight, her exquisite face held an expression more sober than he’d ever seen it. As he gazed at her, the puzzle pieces of the night fell into place.

“Grant’s not really there is he, Mel?”

She shook her head. “He’s at the pack’s estate, in his bed, dying.”

Weylyn’s blood suddenly ran so cold that ice water could have sluiced over him and it would have been warmer. He stopped walking. “Fuck! What the hell happened?” he asked, throwing out one hand in a gesture of helplessness.

“He tried to do the right thing,” Melina said in low, angry voice. “Trainor and his pals were picking on Eliza. They’d worked her over to the point where she was crying, hysterical, and frightened. Grant came upon the scene. Trainor told him to walk on, that no one would hurt Eliza. Grant refused to leave without her.”

Weylyn shook his head in stunned disbelief. “Grant took on Trainor and his friends? Without help? What was he thinking?”

Melina drew a deep breath. “He thought he was doing the right thing. He tried to protect her from bullies. I can’t fault him for that. It
was
the right thing to do. Just, perhaps, it wasn’t the right thing to do without help.”

Sadness settled on her beautiful face. “They broke his back while he was in shifted form. He’s paralyzed. He can’t shift, but he’s also not in pain. However, he
is
dying. As you know, that’s what happens to any werewolf who can no longer shift. The Afterworld calls you home.”

“He called me to say goodbye,” Weylyn muttered, his heart heavy with anger and loss.

Grant’s Alpha nodded. “He wanted you to know that he did the right thing. That he remembered the lessons you taught him and remembered what you had told him about Trainor being a bully. He loved you, Weylyn. He needed to say goodbye in a way that wouldn’t leave you with memories of him lying broken and dying.”

“Fuck!” Weylyn swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears that welled while fighting the loss that twisted his gut and made him want to puke. He raised his head and stared hard at the Alpha. “Tell me Trainor paid for this.”

Again, Melina shook her head. “He’s gone. He disbanded his little group, and he and his best pal Darren fled the area. If they ever show their faces on pack land again or even in the area…”

Her voice trailed away, and Weylyn knew she would never forget Grant’s sacrifice, nor would she forget what the bullies had done. If she ever caught up with them, pack justice would see the killers’ souls sent to the Netherworld for the demons to have as a snack.

“How is Eliza?” he asked hoarsely, still fighting tears.

Melina sighed heavily. “Okay. But in some ways, she’s broken too. Her own friends didn’t stand up for her. They let Trainor taunt her because they all feared him. And she feels responsible for Grant’s death.” Her gaze dropped from his. “
I
feel responsible.”

The senselessness of it all ate at Weylyn, but he couldn’t allow the Alpha to feel so badly. “Mel,
Trainor
is the only one responsible. He is the one who thought he was above the law. He is the one who did this. Not you, not Eliza. No matter what you did to try to contain him, he always thought he was better than others. Why do you think he had his little pack of goons? They were nothing more than sycophants who parroted his words, pumped up his ego, and did his bidding. They took things a step too far and they know it; otherwise, they wouldn’t have attacked Grant physically, and they wouldn’t have run afterward.”

The Alpha reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Your Alpha is lucky to have you, Weylyn,” she said in a low voice. “I wish I could have foreseen that Trainor needed to be watched more closely. I don’t hold with bullying, and this will be a lesson to the pack. The one member of his group who didn’t run will be punished. Hopefully, it will deter others from thinking they can do this and get away with it. And we will never stop hunting Trainor and Darren.”