"Saying this city isn't mine. It isn't yours, little mutt." Carter jerked his chin. "Everyone knows you're in the pocket of that witch. That her hands are around your throat and keeping you in line."

  Webley bared his yellow teeth. "What's your alpha say about that?"

  "Not wolf. No alpha," Kent said. Had to say. He'd never had pack privilege to protect him and wouldn't shelter under it now. His hands flexed. "How—"

  The sound of Luger's gun cocking made Kent's few words dry up like a river in summer. He shifted his weight to balance on his toes, ready to run. Guns weren't a language he spoke nor a language he wanted to learn the hard way. The pleased smell rising from Carter and his companions made Kent's stomach twist as he raised his heels, careful not to signal his intentions.

  Impatient with the impasse, Webley's hand twitched toward his gun.

  Kent turned and ran.

  Carter had guns and numbers, but Kent knew how to use the terrain and the dark. Two shots coughed clouds of dirt around his feet, but he was too fast for their bullets. Breath coming harsh in the otherwise silent night, blood pounding in his ears, Kent scrambled for shelter in the alleys he'd last seen as a scrawny pup. Hadn't thought he'd need to hide in them again, contorting his slightly larger frame into a crawl space near the Rowntree factory, where burned chocolate disguised his scent from those who might follow.

  Still running away after all these years.

  Trying to find a more comfortable position in the space—there wasn't one, and never had been—Kent discovered new cuts and bruises. The stench of his own blood made him wrinkle his nose. He flexed as best he could, searching for the source, until a particular shift made his shoulder blade sing in pain. Webley or Luger had been a better shot than he thought and managed to graze him. Annie would be cross when she saw him next.

  Shifting made his stump press against the wall, and he winced. He'd definitely grown since the last time he'd hid here. In body if not in mind. Kent rubbed his eyes and swallowed a yawn. Felt like he hadn't slept in days.

  I won't sleep here. I refuse.

  One thing to run well-trodden paths in time of panic, another to curl nose-to-tail like they were home.

  Eventually, dawn began to creep through the crawl space, prompting Kent into action. The day had turned over and brought him closer to losing his collar and gaining a future. Providing he survived the latest fuckup.

  What do free people even do?

  One way to find out.

  With care, Kent extricated himself from the crawl space, reopening shallow cuts from the jagged exposed brick. In daylight, he could see gouges made in the ground and walls, from a hand slightly smaller than the one he fitted over the marks. Not near the entrance, he hadn't been trying to leave, but at the far side. Like he'd been trying to get deeper into the earth. A wolf in his tomb.

  Kent washed his claws in a shallow puddle before sneaking off the factory grounds. He wasn't that child anymore.

  He took an indirect route to the boarding house, senses stretched to their limits. Carter and his guns were unchecked in the city, and Tabitha needed to be notified, but Kent baulked to tell her of another of his failures. Not when he was so close to everything he wanted.

  With his senses on high alert, Kent smelled Hadrian's approach before Hadrian burst onto his path as the sky began to spit with rain. Early-morning workers tucked their heads down, hurrying onward. Kent stopped. Rain turned his hair to snakes.

  How long had it been since he'd seen Hadrian? A day. Less. Hadrian had bathed. Shaved. His clothes were pressed, the white of his shirt crisp and bright. Shined shoes. A suit that fit him well. Money and station undoubtedly flexing their influence. He carried a cane.

  Yet for all Hadrian could be another man about the city, there was wildness in his eyes Kent recognised from the inside. It sang in him like a struck note.

  "May I walk with you?" Hadrian asked, when he drew close enough. Rain dripped from his nose.

  Kent inclined his head. What else would he do? Hadrian tucked his hands in his pockets, politely waiting for Kent to stutter into motion before falling into stride with him. His cane kept time with their steps. Kent felt dizzy. Like he'd taken too many blows to the head. Was Hadrian really beside him? Or did Kent dream, still tucked into his den?

  Hadrian's cane tap-tapped. A metronome. "I met your Tabitha. She's quite the woman. She's arranging an escort south for me. Politics, you understand." He huffed a laugh. "Of course you understand."

  "Yes?" Kent said, when it became clear something was expected. "And?"

  "Yes, I will be leaving after the moon. And I couldn't bear to go without seeing you again. Even in this atrocious weather."

  Kent's cheeks warmed with the intimate tone of Hadrian's confession. He glanced around the street for witnesses, but there were none. A complicated mix of relief and regret curdled in his stomach.

  "See me now."

  "I would see more of you."

  "What—"

  "If this is to be the last time we meet, I would see as much as you would show," Hadrian said, his low voice on the very edge of Kent's hearing.

  Humans wouldn't have heard him.

  Ears twitching, Kent glanced at Hadrian and saw the pleased crescent curve of his fangs. Like he'd tested Kent and wanted him to pass. Heat rose to Kent's face, and he ducked his head, grateful for the rain cooling his cheeks. He scowled behind the curtain of his hair. He wasn't a fucking pup at lessons, happy to please his alpha teacher.

  "Kent, I didn't mean to—"

  "Where are you staying?" Kent didn't need teaching.

  Hadrian's cane missed a beat. "Nearby," he said. "Let me take you there."

  * * *

  Inside the warmth of Hadrian's room, Kent sank to his knees without waiting to strip their wet clothes. His mouth watered with Hadrian's proximity, surrounded by his clean sea-scent, made clearer with the rain washing away any artificial smell that might have lessened him. Kent didn't want Hadrian lessened. If he would have an alpha, Kent wanted every part of him.

  Kent wasn't a stray. Wasn't a pup or a mutt. He might have a collar at his throat and gladly go to his knees before the only alpha he'd ever claim as his own, but he wasn't anyone's dog to call to heel. No one whistled for him.

  He reached for the fastening of Hadrian's trousers, his claws indenting the fabric. Hands resting at Hadrian's belt, he looked at Hadrian from under lowered lashes.

  "Wh-what is this?" Hadrian asked, voice hoarse. Not testing, that time.

  Kent nosed at the soft bulge of Hadrian's prick, hidden behind the fastening of his trousers. "Suck job."

  "I don't—"

  "No lie. You want." Kent glanced up, worry suddenly catching in his throat. "You do want?"

  "God help me. I want. Please. Please, I— You don't know how you look, Kent."

  Repressing a snort—who cared how he looked—Kent licked his lips and unfastened Hadrian's trousers, untucking his shirt and withdrawing Hadrian's prick, already red at the tip. Letting his eyes fall shut, giving himself to his appointed task, Kent suckled Hadrian's prick, nosing deeper until coarse curls tickled his face. He steadied himself with one hand around Hadrian's calf, careful with claws, the other tangled in the tails of Hadrian's shirt.

  Taking a breath through his nose, Kent swallowed around Hadrian's prick until he thought he'd choke, a strangled whine escaping his throat when his airways caught. Heart rabbiting, he heard the fabric of Hadrian's fine shirt tear, and the savage satisfaction at ruining people things made Kent's hips jerk. He released Hadrian's calf to press his hand to his swollen prick, easing the pounding pressure even as he gasped off Hadrian to gulp air.

  "What are you—Oh, fuck." Hadrian groaned thickly as Kent swallowed him down again, not as deep, working him with his other hand, disentangled from the shredded fabric. Kent bobbed his head and rocked into his own hand, going too far and too fast, gagging when Hadrian moved at the wrong moment. He heard himself whine, and his face lit on fire but he didn't stop.

  "Kent!" Hadrian made a bitten-off shout as he came in thick pulses into Kent's waiting mouth. Kent swallowed greedily around Hadrian's twitching prick, getting messy as spend ran down his chin, into his stubble. He wanted to rub his face in Hadrian's scent, to claim him, but instead wiped himself and Hadrian clean with long strokes of his tongue until Hadrian twitched away.

  "Sensitive," he said. Apologised.

  Kent shrugged. He licked the corner of his mouth again, and the side of his hand, and pressed his face into Hadrian's thigh, gulping lungfuls of Hadrian's scent as he fisted his own prick, pulling fast and hard the way he liked it. Chasing release. He was close, breath coming harsh, and when Hadrian stroked Kent's hair with too-warm hands and whispered his name, surrounding him with scent and sound and touch, Kent lost himself in a white-hot rush. He panted against Hadrian's leg without embarrassment until Hadrian pushed him away, only to drop to his knees beside Kent.

  Hadrian's cheeks were flush with colour. "That was— That was something. Wasn't it?"

  Something. Everything.

  Kent wasn't good for farewells. Didn't want to linger. He cupped Hadrian's face and drew a long kiss from his lips, something to remember, and rolled to his feet. He stepped back once. Twice—Hadrian grabbed Kent's hands and yanked him down to worry the skin around Kent's collar, skin no one had touched kindly for years. Kent swayed, kept strong by Hadrian's grip on his hands, pinned to his waist. But he didn't feel trapped. He let his head loll back, eyes shut, a moment of indulgence. Surrender.

  Softly, Hadrian smoothed Kent's hair back and rested his pointy chin on Kent's shoulder. Under the weight of his gaze, Kent opened his eyes but couldn't meet Hadrian's. He glanced away, to the scar on Hadrian's eyebrow, the cut on his lip, not wanting those clever eyes to read more from him than he wanted written.

  Hadrian sighed shortly. "Stop running, Kent."

  "Am not—"

  "You run away without even moving. I've seen it. I see it now. Please, stay with me." Hadrian traced something on Kent's collar. Maybe a ghost of a name. "Or, if you can't stay, let me be the thing you run to. Allow me to be that for you."

  Promises meant shit. Kent knew that. He'd never wanted to keep one before.

  He pulled away. Hadrian let him go. If Kent hadn't needed to leave, he would've stayed for that alone. That concession.

  Making a concession of his own, he took Hadrian's hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, folding his fingers around it. Another secret for Hadrian to keep, if he wanted.

  I'll come back, he didn't say. He didn't say, No one's ever asked me to stay.

  He touched his throat instead, fingertips cool on the worried flesh, and took a step back. Another. A third.

  Hadrian let him go.

  As grateful as he was, Kent kind of wished he hadn't.

  * * *

  Kent took the long way to the boarding house, out of sorts as his skin hummed with echoes of Hadrian's touch. Like the shiny skin from healed wounds, his body didn't feel like it belonged to him yet. Like he was as new as the city seemed after rain.

  He scratched his shoulder where the shot had grazed him and frowned when it barely ached. About to tug away his shirt to check, his ears flicked as someone shouted his old name in anger. Yelling how Prince had ruined their deal. Following the harsh voices, Kent found a group of men arguing in the narrow alley between the back-to-backs. He scaled a nearby coal shed, wincing when his claws scraped, and settled to watch.

  An old man spat at the ground, splashing into a shallow puddle. "The prince in the south will get his comeuppance for betraying the north."

  Not me, then. Kent shifted in place. But maybe Hadrian. If it's Hadrian I will kill them all.

  A woman washing clothes in a tub nearby hissed out a breath between her crooked teeth, though she said nothing. The young woman beside her, wringing out the wet clothes, tilted her chin at the man.

  "He'll get it soon. I heard the stray brung him back. Our Anthony saw him, didn't he? And last night too. So the pack know where they are. He'll be on trial with the moon."

  "You know this how?"

  A thin kid walked out of a nearby house, a hitch in his step. The scent of strawberries trailed in his wake. He sniffed. "Seen the bastard, didn't I? Back at the Shambles. Both of them. The prince and the stray. Carter seen him too. Came back early, he said."

  The old man spat again. "I'll let the pack know."

  When he left, the kid started hanging the sheets, brows furrowed, like that hadn't gone how he hoped.

  Kent narrowed his eyes. He recognised the kid. His scent. More nervous, perhaps, less self-assured. He pressed his memory, finally recognising the kid from the meeting with Tabitha. The kid in the waiting room, who'd eyed Kent's collar like it was a curse. The guard had called him Anthony. Little fucker had been listening at closed doors. And he knew that fool Carter.

  More importantly, the bastards knew Hadrian was in the city. Kent hadn't made him safer at all.

  I'm coming for you, Hadrian.

  And it'd be a real rescue, this time.

  Chapter Seven

  The wan sun stripped colour from the streets as Kent stole through the city, but people stayed indoors, wary of the gathering clouds. Kent didn't have time to spare on trepidation. He needed to get his knives, whatever wardings he could scrounge up, and some boots. He had a feeling he'd need all the armour he could procure. "Trial", the kid said. Kent didn't know what that meant, exactly, but no court in the land could be just all the time. Besides, he had a feeling the wolves from the train might be on the jury. That'd do Hadrian no favours.

  He recognised the Luger, now. It had been the one in Hadrian's cabin. The wolves from the north had followed them to York. Refused to let their stolen alpha go.

  One night and day left before the full moon. Kent upped his pace.

  He slowed on the approach to Annie's house. Tabitha's hands had dragged him from the door less than a day ago, but he'd become someone else since then. He no longer wore the skin of the pup who hid in his crawl space. He had a new coat, one he'd made for himself, and Hadrian's hands had helped with the fit.

  Kent cracked his neck from side to side, nudging the collar with his knuckles to resettle it, and let himself inside. He slowly paced toward the silent kitchen, not realising his hands shook until he heard his claws clatter on the doorknob.

  Annie should be in the kitchen, clanging pans, muttering to herself. But Kent couldn't hear anything. Couldn't smell anything. And when he opened the kitchen door, the room was cold and dark.

  Tracking dirt through the house, Kent checked each room, even breaking into the locked clerks' rooms in his search. A high keening noise followed his every step, until he bit his tongue.

  No Annie.

  After grabbing his knives and the few wardings he had tucked away, Kent dropped to the floor in his room, wrapped his arms around his legs, and tried to think. Thoughts were elusive. His mouth tasted like blood. There's no time for this. Hadrian is in danger.

  But Annie—

  Your fucking alpha needs you.

  The scent of fresh-baked bread reached his nose and Kent darted to his feet. He ran downstairs and burst into the kitchen. Annie's shriek nearly took off the top of his head. He ducked when she threw a pan at him.

  "For the love of Christ, boy, what's all your noise about? Running in here like your tail's on fire and giving me a damn heart attack."

  "Last night—"

  Annie sighed and returned to unpacking the food she had bought. "I know, I know. Gave me a fright and all. Glad to see you back in one piece." Turning her back on him, Annie clattered the cupboards more than they needed, her shoulders in a stiff line. "Was it her highness again? And are youse well, now?"

  Kent nodded. Well enough. He retrieved the pan and slid it onto the counter. "Need to find Hadrian."

  "Then don't you be lingering around here. Go on, off with you!"

  Allowing himself the briefest touch to Annie's arm, shocking himself as much as her, Kent retreated from the kitchen. If he never returned, he wanted the memory of Annie at home, warm and safe, to take with him.

  Then he was outside, and running.

  Last place he'd seen Hadrian—all of Hadrian—was in his rooms in a hotel by Monk Bar, one of the city's gatehouses, and Kent burst through the doors without stopping for the cries of the hotel staff. Waiting wouldn't get him anywhere. Without Hadrian by his side, there was no place for him there.

  The door to Hadrian's rooms was unlocked. Despite the faded scent traces, Kent let himself hope Hadrian would be inside. Hope he had made it in time. It hadn't been long. Long enough. He opened the door.

  Sheets torn. Bed overturned. Mirror smashed, shards glittering in the light slicing through shredded curtains. Hadrian's clothes scattered. No blood. No sign of a fight between wolves, just wolves versus furniture. Like they'd taken their frustration out on the room because Hadrian was protected and they hated having their paws tied. Kent knew the feeling.

  Soap and cologne and an uneven gait caught up with Kent and swore. "The hell happened here? Did you do this?"

  Kent glanced over his shoulder, past the dazed bellboy. More hotel staff were striding down the hallway, the tall helmet of a policeman following. Time to go. He crossed Hadrian's wrecked room as a sharp whistle blew from the hall. The policeman. But there were no dogs to call to heel. Just Kent.

  Shouts clamoured, and pounding feet, as Kent heaved up the desk chair and smashed the room window. He tossed the chair back toward the bellboy, finally shocked into action.

  "Oi! What do—"

  Kent bared his teeth and jumped.

  His knees wobbled with impact and stones bit through the soles of his boots, but one of his carefully hoarded wardings protected him from broken bones. The card smouldered in his pocket as it activated, and Kent yanked it out before it could destroy the others, tossing it aside. One of Tabitha's stronger castings, it hissed against the damp ground, steam curling like question marks.

 

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