Demitri glanced around, and Frankie followed suit, finding they were now the center of attention. Demitri grimaced and mumbled, "My mom. She doesn't-she doesn't like coming to pack runs or even shifting. She's always discouraged it, saying I'll never find a nice girl who would accept me turning into an animal."
Frankie frowned, slowly processing all that. He appreciated that none of the others said anything to distract him. After a moment, he slowly said, "But she's a shifter, and your father is human. Isn't that … I don't know … hypocritical or something? And I thought you were gay, so shouldn't you be looking for a nice guy to accept you?" He refused to say your animal, because he wanted Demitri to start thinking of him and his wolf as one and the same. They were a team, part of the same whole.
"Yeah, well … " Demitri shrugged. "She's trying to discourage that, too. And dad's not quite as accepting as the pack might think."
Nick rested a hand on Frankie's shoulder before, drawing his attention. "I'm gonna take Demitri for a run, teach him a little about tracking, then I'll let Declan and Shane know about this conversation. Leave it for them to handle."
Frankie nodded. That made sense.
"You head on off with your mate," Nick continued, nudging his shoulder. "He needs to leave."
"Yeah, okay." He worried about his new friend, but it wasn't like he could do something about it. Well, except be there for him if he needed to talk. "Let me know if you need anything," he urged. "You have my number."
"Come on, Frankie," Dobs said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and steering him toward the door.
"Have fun tracking," Frankie called to Demitri over his shoulder.
Demitri waved in response.
"My sweet beloved," Dobs crooned as he opened the back door of the SUV for him. After Frankie slid inside the vehicle, Dobs followed him, sliding in after him. "So fucking sexy," he growled.
Dobs buried his hands in Frankie's hair and captured his mouth in a scorching, toe-curling kiss. Frankie had no idea what he'd done to arouse the vampire, but the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressed against his thigh and the heady smell of aroused mate got him so hard so fast he moaned into Dobs' mouth.
He'd just started reaching for Dobs' prick when Lex snapped, "Hey, cut that shit out, now. We'll be at Gordon's in five minutes. Dobs, put a shirt on. It's fucking cold."
Frankie let Dobs go when he pulled away. Dobs rolled his eyes, giving his grumbling friend a mock glare before grabbing a bag from behind the seat and pulling out a t-shirt. Frankie buried a snort and focused his gaze out the window.
Gordon greeted them all cordially, his brow lifting when he saw Frankie. "Why don't we start with just you, Dobs," he said, once he'd heard Dobs' explanation of Frankie's presence. "Once I get some general information, and if the timing still seems to be right, we'll invite Frankie into the session."
He liked how Dobs gave him a chaste kiss, right there in front of everyone, before heading into the room. His lover seemed very open, at least around his friends. "Is he like that around everyone? Or just you guys?" he asked the question that popped into his mind as he sat down in the waiting area.
"Like what?" Seb asked from where he sprawled in a cushioned chair.
Frankie paused to decide what he meant. "Affectionate," he said. "Touchy-feely."
"No," Lex answered, drawing out the words. "Definitely not," he added with a snort. He lifted a hand and pointed at him. "You are a good influence. I haven't seen him this … laid back in fifty years."
Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he asked, "How old is he?"
Lex and Seb exchanged looks, then Seb shrugged. "Not real sure. Somewhere in the one fifty range, if I had to guess."
"Wow," Frankie said. "Really?"
"Hope you like older men," Seb quipped, winking.
"Never really thought about that," he admitted. The vampires exchanged a look he couldn't hope to interpret. Frankie glanced between them. "So, you've known him a long time?"
"Caspian and I have known him the longest," Lex told him. "We met him a little over eighty years ago when we were teamed up on a mission to a coven in Africa. Long story short, we broke up a ring of shifters using humans as slaves. They'd snagged a couple of the coven's mates, drawing attention to them. Good thing they did, too," Lex added ruefully, "because they'd also taken one of the governor's children. Dumb shits." He grinned suddenly. "Know why we call him Dobs?"
"That's not his real name?" Frankie asked. He'd thought the name sounded odd, but what did he know?
Lex snorted. "Not even close. His real name is Vincent Marché. We call him Dobs because he's like a fucking Doberman when it comes to tearing into-" He stopped mid-sentence and flushed. Grimacing, he muttered, "Shit. I shouldn't have said that."
Confused, Frankie looked from Lex to Seb, surprised to see the normally friendly man glaring daggers at Lex. "What? What's wrong?"
He drew in a breath, thinking maybe there was danger around, but all he scented was one very angry vampire and one very embarrassed one.
When Lex still didn't continue, Frankie frowned. "What?"
Heaving a sigh, and after glaring at Lex one more time, Seb focused on Frankie and softly answered, "I know you've heard by now that Dobs struggles with … shifters in general. We started calling him Dobs because when he went after a shifter, he wouldn't stop until he took him down and tore him apart, either physically or mentally. Dobs always got his man."
Frankie felt the blood drain from his face. "He really hates us that much?"
Chapter Nine
After years of keeping everything bottled up-the desire to make his father proud, the need to succeed, the fear of failure, the frustration and confusion regarding his changing view of shifters-it felt good to let it all out.
Dobs had known his father's near manic obsession with killing the shifters who'd murdered his mother had messed him up. He'd even thought he was handling it pretty well after all these years. Then he'd scented Frankie and panicked. There was no other word for it. He had run from his beloved.
It had taken him coming dangerously close to death, and some tough love from his friends, to realize he needed a change. Now, after he'd poured out everything to this virtual stranger, Dobs felt so much better, like he no longer had it all bottled up inside him, ready to explode any minute.
"So, did you still want to bring Frankie in?"
Doctor Digby's smooth tenor broke into Dobs' thoughts. "Yeah, I'd like that. Maybe-maybe if he shifted now, I wouldn't panic," he said, thinking out loud.
"That's a possibility. Why don't we see what Frankie thinks after you two talk, hmm?" the doctor offered.
Dobs nodded, rose from his chair, and crossed the room. When he opened the door, he found Lex and Seb in a heated, quiet discussion, which immediately ceased when they saw him. They exchanged guilty looks. Dobs frowned and glanced around the waiting room, but didn't see Frankie.
"Where's Frankie?"
He really didn't like Lex's expression, or his words when he muttered, "I'm sorry, man. I wasn't thinking."
"What did you do?" Dobs growled, just knowing how abrasive his friend could be on occasion.
Lex wouldn't meet his gaze as he admitted, "I … I told him where your nickname came from."
"My nickname? Why would … oh!" He swallowed hard. He hadn't thought about why his friends called him Dobs in decades. "Where did he go?"
Seb shook his head. "We're sorry, Dobs. We're not sure. We were just deciding if one of us should go after him when you came out."
"Well, what did he say?" Dobs asked, already reaching for his coat.
Lex answered, "He asked if you really hated them all, meaning shifters, that much. We tried to assure him that that wasn't the case. He decided he wanted to go for a walk and clear his head." He swallowed hard and added, "He said he'd give you a call later."