her after all.
CHAPTER 9
Following a long, hot shower where Julian both warmed’ chilled skin and jacked off to ascertain he would not h; any surprise erections later that day, Julian dressed, checked his messages.
Between traveling, locating Alex, following her, and ting up his plan, he’d been away over a week. He had a lo deal with. Julian was not only the mayor of what had co to be known as Barlowsville—a joke at first, but the name stuck
—he was also the chief of police, the judge, and, when necessary, the executioner.
The latter was rare. For the most part they lived in harmony. But when dealing with nearly two hundred werewolves. . . well, shit happened.
Thankfully none of the messages awaiting him spoke misbehavior so severe that capital punishment would be necessary. Just the usual minutiae of village life—boundary disputes, nonpayment for services or goods—and the minutiae of werewolf existence—the snatching of a rabbit ft someone’s very jaws, the taking of more than one’s share a larger kill—elk, deer, moose.
He put aside his duties until later. He had one duty he must attend to first.
His house, a two-story log cabin at the farthest edge of the village, backed a squat, white edifice that blended into the landscape during the majority of the year when snow covered the land.
Presently the snow reached Julian’s knees, but the distance between the rear of Julian’s house and the rear of the building was only a few hundred feet and wasn’t that difficult to traverse, especially for someone with the strength of ten.
Inside, the air was cool—though not unpleasantly so. Silence reigned, broken every so often by the click of electricity or the whisper of the wind through the eaves.
“Cade?” Julian called, but no one answered.
Typical. His brother often became engrossed in his work to the detriment of all else. If it weren’t for the full moon that forced the issue, Julian thought Cade might forget to shape-shift altogether.
Julian walked through the silent halls, ducked his head into Cade’s empty living quarters, then followed his nose to the laboratory where he found his brother boiling what smelled like death over a tiny blue flame. For a few minutes Julian just watched him.
As a Viking, Cade had been a bust. Without Julian to protect him, he would have died long before that fateful day in Scotland.
Cade was a gentle soul, a healer by trade. He’d been indispensable when they’d gone a Viking, his knowledge of the human body and the herbs and potions necessary to mend ii, vast.
Whenever they’d invaded a new country, Cade spent his time talking to the local healers, gathering knowledge from every corner of the earth. He fought, but not eagerly or well. which meant Julian always fought at his side.
Except for that one time.
“Hey,” Julian murmured, and Cade looked up, blue widening when he discovered his brother in the room.
He frowned at the clock, then the calendar, then back Julian. “What day is it?”
“Friday.”
The frown deepened. “But you left on Thursday.”
“I’ve been gone over a week, Cade.”
Cade glanced at the calendar again, then shrugged ai murmured, “Huh. Is it morning or is it night?”
“I told you to put a window in this place.”
The laboratory was more like a fortress. The single window in the entire building existed in Cade’s living quarters, and that only because Julian had gone behind his brother’s back with the builders. He wasn’t sure Cade had even noticed.
“It helps me to focus,” Cade said. “If there are no
windows, my only world is this.”
“Your only world has always been this.”
“True,” Cade agreed, and returned to his work.
Julian’s brother was shorter than he—though at six feet Cade was by no means short. He was also slim instead of muscular, pale instead of tan, and his hair, which had been as blond as Julian’s, had darkened to a dusty brow.
While Julian’s brushed his shoulders,
CHAPTER 9
Following a long, hot shower where Julian both warmed’ chilled skin and jacked off to ascertain he would not h; any surprise erections later that day, Julian dressed, checked his messages.
Between traveling, locating Alex, following her, and ting up his plan, he’d been away over a week. He had a lo deal with. Julian was not only the mayor of what had co to be known as Barlowsville—a joke at first, but the name stuck
—he was also the chief of police, the judge, and, when necessary, the executioner.
The latter was rare. For the most part they lived in harmony. But when dealing with nearly two hundred werewolves. . . well, shit happened.
Thankfully none of the messages awaiting him spoke misbehavior so severe that capital punishment would be necessary. Just the usual minutiae of village life—boundary disputes, nonpayment for services or goods—and the minutiae of werewolf existence—the snatching of a rabbit ft someone’s very jaws, the taking of more than one’s share a larger kill—elk, deer, moose.
He put aside his duties until later. He had one duty he must attend to first.
His house, a two-story log cabin at the farthest edge of the village, backed a squat, white edifice that blended into the landscape during the majority of the year when snow covered the land.
Presently the snow reached Julian’s knees, but the distance between the rear of Julian’s house and the rear of the building was only a few hundred feet and wasn’t that difficult to traverse, especially for someone with the strength of ten.
Inside, the air was cool—though not unpleasantly so. Silence reigned, broken every so often by the click of electricity or the whisper of the wind through the eaves.
“Cade?” Julian called, but no one answered.
Typical. His brother often became engrossed in his work to the detriment of all else. If it weren’t for the full moon that forced the issue, Julian thought Cade might forget to shape-shift altogether.
Julian walked through the silent halls, ducked his head into Cade’s empty living quarters, then followed his nose to the laboratory where he found his brother boiling what smelled like death over a tiny blue flame. For a few minutes Julian just watched him.
As a Viking, Cade had been a bust. Without Julian to protect him, he would have died long before that fateful day in Scotland.
Cade was a gentle soul, a healer by trade. He’d been indispensable when they’d gone a Viking, his knowledge of the human body and the herbs and potions necessary to mend ii, vast.
Whenever they’d invaded a new country, Cade spent his time talking to the local healers, gathering knowledge from every corner of the earth. He fought, but not eagerly or well. which meant Julian always fought at his side.
Except for that one time.
“Hey,” Julian murmured, and Cade looked up, blue widening when he discovered his brother in the room.
He frowned at the clock, then the calendar, then back Julian. “What day is it?”
“Friday.”
The frown deepened. “But you left on Thursday.”
“I’ve been gone over a week, Cade.”
Cade glanced at the calendar again, then shrugged ai murmured, “Huh. Is it morning or is it night?”
“I told you to put a window in this place.”
The laboratory was more like a fortress. The single window in the entire building existed in Cade’s living quarters, and that only because Julian had gone behind his brother’s back with the builders. He wasn’t sure Cade had even noticed.
“It helps me to focus,” Cade said. “If there are no
windows, my only world is this.”
“Your only world has always been this.”
“True,” Cade agreed, and returned to his work.
Julian’s brother was shorter than he—though at six feet Cade was by no means short. He was also slim instead of muscular, pale instead of tan, and his hair, which had been as blond as Julian’s, had darkened to a dusty brow.
While Julian’s brushed his shoulders,
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