Patrick snorted his opinion on that but thankfully didn’t argue, merely shoveled a bite of potatoes into his mouth.
They ate in stilted silence for the rest of the meal. Time was Jono and Bryson would’ve filled the quiet with pack gossip and friendly insults. But that was then, and this was now. They were on opposite sides despite having the same eyes and the same god strain of the werevirus running through their veins. Time healed and time changed and time made it clear their separate paths would never cross again.
“I’ll pay for my meal,” Bryson said at the end.
“Don’t bother. We’ll cover it.” Jono stood, nodding at the restaurant exit. “I’ll walk you out.”
Patrick hooked an arm over the back of his chair and leaned back, balancing it on two legs. “Stay within eyesight.”
Bryson arched an eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses as he looked at Patrick. “Don’t trust me?”
Patrick twisted his wrist of the hand dangling over the chair, calling up a tiny mageglobe that fit snug against his palm in warning. “Fuck no.”
Bryson smirked, but he smelled wary to Jono. They headed for the exit, and Jono was mindful not to go where his pack couldn’t see.
“How many werecreatures did Cressida assign to watch us?” Jono asked.
Bryson raked a hand through his blond hair. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
Jono decided not to point out Bryson had just confirmed Cressidahadordered werecreatures to watch and follow his pack. Being treated like the enemy was nothing new, but it meant they’d have to continue to pair up, which wasn’t easy when Patrick had to go to work at the WSA.
“I’m chuffed for you, mate,” Bryson said after an awkward pause. “I know how much you wanted a pack. Now you’ve found it.”
“Yeah.”
If things had been different, their reunion wouldn’t have gone so terribly, and maybe Jono could’ve kept believing Bryson was still his mate. But everyone he’d left behind in London couldn’t be trusted, even when they stood before him smelling like regret.
“Never thought you’d be shagging a mage though. Thought you didn’t trust magic users?”
“I trust Patrick.”
“Yeah. I can bloody well smell that.” Bryson half turned, mobile in hand. “Ta for breakfast. Give me a ring before you flee the country again.”
Jono didn’t promise anything. “Cheers.”
He watched Bryson walk away, knowing the other man would be ringing his alphas the second he was out of earshot. A familiar scent hit his nose as Patrick came to a stop beside him on quiet feet.
“I still don’t like him,” Patrick said.
Jono sighed. “I know you don’t.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“So are you, Pat.”
“Yeah, but I’m alikeableasshole, and you love my ass.”
Jono looked over at him, laughing a little. “That was never in doubt.”
“Sage put the meal on her room account. We’re heading back up to the penthouse.”
“Don’t you need to go to work?”
Jono watched as Patrick’s smile faded into a flat line, the grim look in his green eyes erasing all humor. “Pack meeting first.”
Jono’s humor faded as well. “All right.”
Sage and Wade approached, with Wade unabashedly biting into a makeshift sandwich made out of everyone’s leftovers from the plates. The four of them headed back to the private elevator, taking it up to the penthouse. Patrick warded the suite for silence once the door shut behind them.
