“I need you to head down to the marinas. There’s a fisherman there that has some information I need. Talk to him.” alpha Maverick tossed an envelope onto the desk, waiting for Storm to grab it.
“What’s with the envelope? I feel like I’m in the mafia.” Storm picked it up and bent the clasps up.
“Don’t. It’s not for you to open. Give it to Paul. He’ll know what to do. Wait for him to give you the information.”
Storm shrugged as he headed out to his truck. He needed a damn decoder ring to understand his alpha sometimes.
Storm walked out to his truck, opened the door and climbed in. He sat back for a moment, remembering the last time his alpha acted squirrely. Alpha Maverick had sent his beta, Kota off on a mission. The wolf had traveled four states away to find someone only to find out later that Maverick had sent him on a dummy mission. But the end result was Kota finding his mate.
Alpha Maverick had told a select few that since he claimed his mate Cecil, he had been having dreams. That dream made Maverick send Kota on his path.
Storm wondered if this was another of Maverick's dreams. The alpha hadn’t told Kota about the dream until after the beta returned home. Maverick said the dream swayed him not to mention anything and to get Kota to where he needed to be under a guise of searching for someone.
Was this the same thing? As tempting as it was to open the envelope, Storm knew he wouldn’t go against his alpha’s order. He would just have to head down to the marina and find out what this was all about.
The thought that his mate may be there had Storm’s heart racing. He started the engine, pulling his truck out of the gravel drive and onto the paved road.
It didn’t take long, fifteen minutes. The shifters didn’t live far from town. The estate the pack resided in was nestled deep in the forest off the main county road, but it was well hidden from view. They needed land to run free on and space to allow their wolves to patrol the grounds.
Their pack was small compared to others. There were only fifteen of them in all. Twelve sentries, one commander, one beta, and the alpha. They had a gay-only pack, one Maverick formed centuries ago when alphas called a hunt on heads for being gay. Thank god they lived in a more civilized world now.
Storm pulled into the parking lot, shutting his truck off. He walked down to Pier Six to Paul’s boat. Shouting out for the fisherman, Storm waited. It was rude to just board someone’s private boat. He himself would get pissed if someone came aboard his uninvited. If he had one.
Paul came up the from below, stepping off the deck and shaking Storm’s hand.
“Glad to see you, Storm.”
The guy was middle-aged, around forty-five with a salt-and-pepper beard, friendly man.
“Maverick sent me. He asked me to give you this.” Storm pulled the envelope out and handed it to the guy. His eyes darted around the marina, looking for another soul, but they were alone. He scented the air but felt no pull drawing him to his mate. Storm was discreet about it.
Paul helped them out from time to time but had no clue they were shifters, a secret Maverick and the pack guarded close to their chest. No human, aside from the mates, knew they existed, and they planned on keeping it that way. Less complicated.
Paul took the offered envelope, opening the clasps as he looked inside. The human hurriedly closed it and looked around.
What the─? Maybe Maverick had lost it and decided he was Mafiosi instead. Shit did get boring around home.
“Follow me.” Paul glanced around one more time before he took Storm down to his galley. Storm leaned against the small kitchen counter as Paul went to his sleeping quarters. He could hear Paul speaking quietly and two Asian voices responding. Being a timber wolf, he had exceptional hearing, Storm listened closely.
Paul spoke. “I promise he will not harm you. I have not harmed you, and I would not give you over to anyone that would.”
A heavily accented voice replied, “But he is stranger. I will not let harm come to Keata.”
Paul again. “No harm will come to Keata or you. Go with him. He is a brave warrior that will protect you.”
The same accent voice again. “Promise?”
“I promise, young friend.”
Storm straightened as he heard them approaching. Paul emerged with two young Japanese men behind him. They looked frightened and, and, shit. Storm leaned down at one of the men, and he sniffed closely, feeling a thousand thunderstorms wash over him.
The young man leaned back, staring from Paul to Storm.
Maverick had sent him on one of his dream missions. Why the hell couldn’t the alpha just come out and say go get your mate? What was with all the cloak and dagger crap? “Who are they, Paul?” Storm had to know if this was Keata, if not, he needed to know what his mate’s name was.
“This is Keata.” Paul’s hand gently touched one man’s shoulder. Not his mate.
“And this is Kyoshi.”
Kyoshi. The name sent a shiver down Storm’s spine. Storm felt twitchy, knowing how much he was restraining himself. The muscles were locking into place, preventing him from lunging forward and snatching his mate into his arms. He swallowed, trying to add moisture to his throat.
“How old are they?” Storm needed to know what he was dealing with. Would he have to wait for his young mate to come of age to claim him? The thought hurt his brain, the cells rejecting the idea of not binding the small man to him was painful.
“Keata is eighteen years old and Kyoshi is nineteen.”
Storm exhaled. He didn’t have to wait. All he had to do was get Kyoshi to agree to sweaty sex and biting. Yeah, no problem for a human to accept him as a shifter. Piece of cake…hopefully.