His Bacon Sundae Werewolf (10 page)

Pat rather liked
the overprotective tone in his mate’s voice.

“Pat, would you
turn to me? I have something to say,” Jules hesitantly said. Curious, Pat
turned so they were now facing each other, their noses nearly touching.

“I promise you
that I’ll always be there for you. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you
want me,” Jules said so solemnly that Pat couldn’t believe those words were
coming out of his mouth.

Jules was looking
deep into him when he said those words, his brilliant eyes intense and
uncommonly serious. They brought a sense of comfort Pat didn’t realize he
craved. Some part of him, the insecure part of him that was
afraid
Jules would leave him, needed to hear that.

“That was rather
cheesy.” Pat savored the shock that momentarily appeared on Jules’s features.
Then his new mate began to laugh, his entire body convulsing.

Finally he
stopped, and met his gaze again. “Pat, I want you to know I mean every word
I’ve said. This is the till-death-do-us part. If you’re having any second
thoughts or reservations—”

Pat gave him a
deep and bruising kiss.

“Whoa. What was
that for?”

Pat only repeated
what Jules told him in the woods: “you done talking buddy, or are we going to
wait for tomorrow to fuck?”

Chapter Nine

The grave was
silent. So was the cemetery. Only the sound of two plastic spoons scraping
against two sundae cups could be heard.

“You sure Desmond
won’t mind us eating bacon sundaes by his grave?” Jules
asked,
his voice sceptical.

Pat thought it was
a little sweet that he looked so concerned and considerate. One quick look at
his watch told Pat that they were both late for their Weight Losers meeting
again, and again it was Jules’s doing. The program had actually become more
than tolerable to Pat now that he and Jules went together. Pat was slowly
returning to his original healthy body shape and size, but occasionally both of
them agreed it didn’t hurt to have a little treat once in a while.

“Desmond is used
to me eating in front of his grave.” Pat peered over Jules’s still full cup.

His fingers
quickly snuck past Jules’s guard and snatched a strip of bacon from his cup.

“Hey!” Jules
sounded annoyed. “Pat, if you dare put that piece of bacon in your greedy
mouth—”

Only crunching
sounds followed after Pat dropped the entire strip into his mouth. Eyes
narrowed, Jules vigorously began to shovel his remaining ice cream into his mouth,
as
if he was afraid Pat would snatch it away. Pat took
another leisurely bite from his own cup and the wonderful taste of grease
tipped with the sugary vanilla ice cream then filled his mouth. Pat couldn’t
help but rumble his approval. Greasy, salty and sweet just the way he liked it.

The bacon sundae
somewhat reminded him of he and his mate really. Wolves mated for life, so when
their first mates died, they should rightfully die alongside them. Before they
found each other, both of them were ready to die. Pat was already chest-deep in
depression. He was a ticking time bomb ready to go off any moment, while Jules
was only reduced to an instrument driven by revenge. Their new mate bond was
something that should’ve been wrong in so many ways, like mixing bacon with ice
cream, but it was also wonderfully right.

Speaking of his
mate, he noticed Jules studying him with an odd expression on his face.

“What?
Something on my face?”

“Nah.
It’s just, you make the same rumbling sound when we’re having sex,
particularly when you’re coming.”

Pat flushed to the
roots of his scalp. “I do not!”

Jules did a
horrendous job of imitating his rumble. He threw back his head and let out a
long and embarrassing moan. Pat was glad there was no one else in the vicinity.
While Pat loved Jules’s sense of humor, sometimes his mate was too much.

“Fuck you,
smartass,” Pat snarled, tossing away his cup and spoon as he began to near him.

“Whoa there,
buddy. Pat, this is the most inappropriate place and time.” Jules gestured to
the silent cemetery, making a point Pat didn’t quite get.

“Inappropriate
place and time for what?”
Pat asked impatiently,
tempted to strangle his mate.

Jules rolled his
eyes. “You know, to fuck.”

Pat could feel his
cheeks reddening. “What the hell, man. That wasn’t what I was intending to do.”

Jules shrugged.
“When you’re like this, we always end up fucking. I mean, I get that you want
to introduce me to Desmond, but we don’t have to show him how we’re so bonded
to each other.”

Annoyed, Pat gave
him a whack on the shoulder. It was admittedly an affectionate whack and Jules
was right. The most intense sex they’d ever had was always after a fight, be it
a silly fight or a serious one.

“Let’s go. We’re
late.” Pat began to walk back to the car park, hearing Jules catching up behind
him.

“What?
Late for what?”
Jules jogged beside him.

“Meeting,” Pat
huffed, ignoring Jules when he nuzzled his neck. When his mate made a needy
whine in this throat, Pat’s defences began to fall apart. “Stop that!”

“Stop what? Come
on, Pat. I think we deserve a day off.
How about we take home
another of those bacon sundaes?”
Jules grinned suggestively at him.

“And then what?”

“Then we eat it
off each other of course.” Jules snorted, as if it was the most logical thing
in the world.

The image of
pouring
all that
dripping sundae over Jules’s chest
and nibbling bacon off one hard nipple was beginning to make Pat hard.

Seeing his
expression, Jules’s smile only widened. “That’s a yes, then?”

“It’s a yes, you
damnable fiend. Let’s go.”

“Aye
aye, sir.”

On their way to
the car park, Pat caught sight of a tall, hulking and dark-skinned outline of a
familiar figure. Heart thumping, he turned his head sideways at the empty car
park for possible exit routes. No such luck.

Sensing his panic,
Jules gave him a quizzical look. Carlos Medina, the New Haven Pack alpha,
didn’t even glance their way. He only continued walking to the entrance of the
cemetery.

Pat’s heart nearly
gave out on him. While he did plan to eventually talk to his alpha about Jules,
he sure as hell wasn’t ready now. Staring at Carlos’s muscled back, Pat’s brows
furrowed, finally realizing why he hardly recognized his alpha.

He was all suited
up and had a bunch of flowers dangling from one hand. Pat didn’t think Carlos
even owned a suit. Was he visiting someone special to him? Why weren’t any
other wolves with him? Although Pat wasn’t in the loop about what usually
happened in the pack, he’d heard from Derrick there was some serious conflict
brewing with another pack.

“Pat? You’re
beginning to scare me, man.”

Pat took one last
look at Carlos’s retreating back. He’d never seen such a soft and vulnerable
expression on Carlos’s face either, and that look stopped him cold because he
recognized it.

It was the look of
someone who’d buried, or attempted to bury grief, but didn’t quite succeed. If
there was one thing Pat knew, it was that true grief was one ugly
son-of-a-bitch that never truly left you. It stayed with you forever.

 
“It’s probably nothing,” Pat told his mate,
sliding into the car.

The End

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Other Books by Angelique
Voisen
:

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