Kontra chuckled. “Maybe you should take a plate or two of those back to the room this evening,” he teased.
Payson snickered. “Think they’d let me?”
He tilted his head toward the front where a white plastic bag sat, the distinctive shape of to-go boxes filling it out. “They seem to offer take-out.”
“Nice,” Payson crooned, following Kontra’s gaze.
Shep arrived at their table and placed plates holding massive burgers and heaps of waffle fries. “Thanks,” Kontra said while Payson just grinned and dug in.
Kontra was halfway through his meal when a sweet, tangy smell tickled his senses. Looking up, he surveyed the room, trying to determine the source of the scent. His eyes narrowed as he watched a lithe man stride toward the bar, the sway of his slender hips catching Kontra’s eye.
The way Shep grinned at the stranger had Kontra fighting back a growl.
“Hey, Tim,” Shep greeted the man. “How’s your day going?”
Tim? Kontra inhaled again, and this time, the way his dick reacted, pressing painfully against his fly, made sense. “Holy shit.” After all this time, Kontra had found him.
“Oh, he’s cute, boss,” Payson said, following his attention. “You gonna try to go for him?”
Kontra turned and looked at Payson. From the way his pack mate cocked his head and frowned, he knew stunned shock must have been clearly etched on his features.
“You okay, boss?” Payson asked, his brow creasing in concern.
He had to swallow hard before he could answer. Finally, he managed to croak, “That’s my mate.”
Chapter Two
Tim greeted Shep, returning his smile. “I’m doing all right,” Tim told him. “Ready to get home and relax.” And wasn’t that the truth? Getting everything ready for his buyer to take over the store was exhausting. At least, it’d be over soon. Just four more days, then he’d be free to relocate.
“You want a drink while you wait for your food?” Shep asked. “It’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”
Tim shook his head. “No, thanks, man. You give me a beer now and I’ll probably fall asleep at your bar.”
Shep leaned close as he peered at Tim. “You do look a little tired. You sleeping okay?”
No.“Yeah, well enough. Just busy, ya know?” In truth, he hadn’t slept an entire night in full since he’d lost his lover of seventeen years, six months ago. Tim had known he’d outlive his human lover, what with his shifter DNA extending his life centuries beyond a normal man’s, but he really thought he’d have at least another decade or two before having to face losing the man he loved.
He was so glad the bookstore he’d run with Gil had sold. Tim didn’t think he’d be able to stand the memories much longer. Between the store and home, everything in his life reminded him of his deceased partner.
A tingle niggled at the base of his neck, making Tim grip the side of the bar tightly. He sucked in a breath, fear filling him. Tim had always had an uncanny ability to know when something was going to happen in his life, almost like premonitions. Although many would consider it a blessing, Tim considered it a pain in the ass. Just because he knew a change was coming, didn’t mean he knew when or from what quarter.
Feeling it the first time at age thirteen, Tim hadn’t understood the odd tingle at the base of his neck or the clenching in his gut. The next day, Tim had spotted a new boy at school and sprouted his first boner. He’d figured out pretty damn quickly that he was gay. That same tingle returned intermittently over the years, letting him know changes were coming. The last time had been the day before Gil approached him with news from the doctor. News that confirmed Gil had cancer in his brain, and it was inoperable. Gil had fought the disease for two years.
Shoving the painful memories aside, Tim leaned his back against the bar and surreptitiously glanced around Shep’s pub. The place was clean, the floor swept, tables and bar wiped, as always. His friend prided himself on running a tight ship. He wondered if the fact that he was moving was what caused his premonition this time, but figured that was too much to hope for. Sometimes suspense sucked.
Two strangers sat in a booth at the back. Tim tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. The bigger man was really big, broad shoulders, big hands clutched a beer-filled glass and dark hair with odd white—no, silver—flecks permeated throughout. The biker leathers, goatee, and tattoos peeking out the top of his sweatshirt drew Tim’s curiosity. The man’s expression was hard to make out, what with the way the light cast shadows over the guy’s face and how he was turned toward his friend, speaking in low tones.