“I love you,” Jono murmured, still in him, still holding on.
Patrick wrapped his arms around Jono, face pressed against his throat, breathing raggedly. In the quiet of their bedroom, Jono could hear Patrick’s heartbeat and the hitch of his breath as he struggled to hold back tears.
Jono closed his eyes, wishing he could promise Patrick that everything would be all right, but he’d never liked lying to the man he loved.
11
Jono was checkinginventory behind the bar when Emma lifted her head off her arms, perking up. “I think someone’s arrived.”
She slipped off the stool, hiding a yawn behind one hand. She’d worked late with Leon and some of their project managers at PreterWorld and hadn’t got much sleep. Her massive to-go coffee cup was empty, so Jono tossed it in the bin. The meeting with outside packs had been set in the afternoon on Friday to account for the people coming this week from the West Coast.
Patrick couldn’t make it because he was working at the SOA field office. Sage was spending all day offloading her case deadlines for the next week onto other desks with Tiarnán’s approval so she’d be available without needing to worry about her job. Wade was spending the day in Sage’s office after the stunt he’d pulled flying to DC.
Jono hadn’t wanted to let Patrick out of his sight that morning, especially not with the media camped outside the apartment building again. Setsuna’s death was the top breaking news story of the day, and everyone wanted a comment from Patrick. Running the gamut of reporters and cameras again was not how they’d wanted to start the morning.
At least no one had camped out in front of the bar. Jono hadn’t smelled anything out of the ordinary when he and Emma had arrived, and none of the protective wards had been tripped.
Jono watched as Emma unlocked the door and opened it to allow their guests to enter. The woman who came through first gave Jono a polite smile, her amber eyes bright in her face.
“Nice place,” Monica Woodard said in greeting.
“Want a drink?” Jono offered.
“Dirty martini if it’s not too much trouble.”
The Chicago god pack had sent their dire and a decent number of volunteers, as had other god packs scattered across the country. While the alphas wouldn’t leave their territory, they’d all sent the next best thing in terms of rank. Jono and Patrick had promised everyone pass-through rights, and they didn’t need to stand on ceremony. Jono appreciated the respect shown his god pack by those chosen to come and started taking drink orders.
Emma slipped behind the bar to help him out, her attention on everyone milling about and getting comfortable. The majority of people weren’t god pack, and the mix of regional accents came from all corners of the country.
Jono set Monica’s dirty martini down in front of her before moving on to the next drink. Between him and Emma, they got the drinks poured and mixed within fifteen minutes, quick introductions happening with the hand-offs.
Monica eyed them over the rim of her delicate glass, gaze lingering on Emma. “Your dire?”
Emma flashed her a tempered smile. “No. I’ve acted as proxy when Jono needs me to though. I’m Emma Zhang, alpha of the Tempest pack.”
Monica nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of you.”
Emma shrugged. “Been a lot of rumors running through the packs in this country over the last year. Hopefully that doesn’t color your opinion.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with throwing your support behind any alpha who wasn’t Estelle and Youssef. Neither do my alphas.” Monica looked at Jono. “They say hello, by the way, and want you to know I speak for them in full. We’ve brought willing fighters from a dozen Chicago packs.”
“We appreciate the support,” Jono said.
Other dires spoke up, representatives of god packs who’d thrown their lot in with Jono’s: San Francisco, Los Angeles, Houston, Miami, and New Orleans to name a few. The bar was teeming with werecreatures who wouldn’t have set foot in New York City if Estelle and Youssef had still been in charge.
“Not everyone is here with us. We thought the bar would get too crowded, so most of the people we brought are all back at the hotel. We’ll inform them of what our orders are,” Ava Jepsen said.
A couple of other dires murmured they’d done the same, which made sense. Jono poured himself a beer, opting to stay behind the bar. Emma remained with him, though she poured herself a cider to sip at.
“I know the request was out of the ordinary, but we appreciate the aid your alphas sent us,” Jono said.
“Would’ve been bad form to say no to a patron animal-god,” Calvin Tran said. He was dire to the LA god pack, a man in his late twenties with thick black hair and wolf-bright amber eyes.
Jono shrugged. “I asked, not Fenrir.”
Calvin smiled thinly. “You’re favored by him. My alphas treated your words as his.”
It was still strange to know that Fenrir was a presence other packs were aware of. It lent their tiny god pack standing they wouldn’t otherwise have, but Jono had spent years letting no one know Fenrir had teeth and claws sunk into his mind and soul. The god might not have a physical form, but that’s what Jono was for, and everyone in the bar seemed aware of that.
