Page 133 of Broken Bonds
While this new wrinkle in my morning is a complication, at least it’s one I can work around. Because it’s still early out west, I start by shooting emails to contacts in packs out there who I know or suspect might have practical experience, or at least information on this topic. I’d rather do that than call and wake them up.
I know how to trigger my own heat, although I’m not fond of doing it because it usually screws things up, hormone-wise, over the next few months. I’ve done it twice before, when Jax and I were scheduled to travel, so that I could get it out of the way first. I know he didn’t mind that the first mating heat I had after we mated was while we were out of town, but my preference is not to go through it like that. While I enjoy fucking—duh—if I’m spending good money on a vacation I’d rather spend that time actually, you know, vacationing, and not stuck in a hotel room getting railed by random human guys Jax hunts up to help keep me from wanting to peel my own skin off because I’m horny.
If I want to fuck I can get as much as I want at home.
But a related issue is that I’m a coyote, not a wolf. Just because Mal and I are both canine shifters doesn’t mean what works for me will work for him. And what works for me—or Mal—might not work for other shifters of our particular species.
The added complication, of course, is that Mal has never experienced a mating heat. Which is unusual, because I thought most canines—males, at least—start experiencing them around their late teens. Maybe having to hide his true self for so long played a role in that, I don’t know. But he has no clue how it’ll feel for him, and no shifter who goes through mating heats experiences them the same way. I’ve never thought about needing to trigger someone’s first heat.
Hell, sometimes I don’t experience all the same things from one heat to another. My first several were so overwhelming I could barely remember my own name during them.
Now that I’ve been through enough of them over the years, I have somewhat better control and can feel them getting close a few days in advance, so I can prepare before I totally drop into mating heat mode. But if my situation is one where I’m safe and Jax—or Todd—is overseeing things, I can let myself go to fully enjoy it without worrying about consequences.
They’re still working on detailing my car—yes, I might have been a bit of a bitch and paid for the most expensive detail package, although I didn’t get the most expensive one for Jax’s and Todd’s trucks—so I call Mike.
He answers on the first ring. “Shawn! Where’s my grandpup?”
I snort. “Good morning to you too, Pops.”
He laughs. “Sounds like things are getting even more interesting around the compound.”
“Yeah, I could use a little less interesting around here right now.”
“True. I take it you spoke with Jax?”
“I just sent out a round of emails…”
We talk for the better part of an hour. By the time I end the call, they’ve finished with my car.
I have pages filled with information. Pops had me on speakerphone with Dad while Dad was on his laptop researching and, simultaneously, on calls of his own. We don’t know for sure what the best course of action is yet, but at least now I have a starting point from which to wade through the data and attempt to make sense of it.
Obviously, if Mal had mating heats before, that would make things a lot easier.
Before I leave Brooksville, I stop by the New Age coffeeshop and buy myself a latte and a danish to go. I’ve earned them, dammit. Based on how the morning’s going so far, I suspect it’ll be a drop in the bucket of what I’ll need to make it through what’s heading straight for us.
Life will become incredibly crazy over the next few weeks—and yes, this is me willfully not letting myself think about how dangerous it could get, especially if Jax is part of the group that goes out hunting these psychopaths—and a little comfort food is warranted.
I return home and set up my work laptop on the coffee table, pour myself yet another cup of coffee—because I damned sure need it—and log in to try to clear my emails before I return to my research. Although something’s…nagging me.
I get up and walk down the hall and realize Todd hasn’t arrived yet to shower before he goes to the rec center.
That’s…weird. Todd’s rarely late to anything.
But I don’t have time to contemplate it because my work cell rings, and I get tied up dealing with issues for my regular job helping Jax run the business side of our pack’s operations.
Maybe Jax has Todd doing something else this morning. I don’t feel like calling Jax and bothering him with that, though, considering how sideways he said his morning’s already gone with…well, Morning. If Todd’s change in schedule is something I need to know, I’m sure I will be made aware of it.
I’m trying to juggle calls and emails when my personal cell rings from Jax’s personal phone.
I grab it. “Yeah?”
“Hey. Can you come meet me over at Todd’s?”
My brain screeches to a halt. “Huh?”
“You. Todd’s. Now?”
“Uh, no offense, but I neither have the time for a session in the fun room, nor am I really in the mood for it, and?—”
