The Walls of Jericho

Possessive

I don’t know how he managed to do it the first morning, but Channing woke after only a few hours of sleep, got cleaned up and left for work without much disturbing me. He’s not quite so fortunate this morning. Still, something prompts me to override my urge to electrocute him and listen instead when I hear him talking quietly.

“There’s no point in going out there, Damien. It’s pouring rain again and we won’t be able to get a clear idea of whether or not it will work on a soggy proving ground.”

In the lull when he stops talking, I hear the faint incoherent rumble of return conversation as Damien replies.

“I’m not blaming your team for the weather. You know that. I’m just saying we’re struggling to make any headway on this project. Much as I love it here, maybe this particular program shouldn’t be headquartered in Ireland.”

I roll over in bed to try to make out more clearly what the response is.

“I don’t know where we should move it and yes, I do know it would be a significant amount of work, both for the people on your team and the development equipment necessary. The other thing I know is that we’ve lost almost nine weeks trying to advance this, most of it due to weather. We’re running out of time before the dragon turns up again, trying to stake his claim. We have to be ready, but that’s obviously not happening today.”

There’s a small writing desk in our room, and when I say ‘small’, I mean about the size of a classroom desk for grade school students. It’s barely big enough for the old school rotary phone that sits on it. Channing’s seated there in the dim light of pre-dawn that filters into our room around the heavy drapes, resting his head in his hand with an elbow propped on the desk. He looks more defeated than I think I’ve ever seen.

He also looks huge and sort of ungainly.

“Just call it off. Cancel everything and reschedule for tomorrow. If it doesn’t get done this trip, then we’ll deal with it via online meeting and discuss another option when I get home.” His tone grows tense and he sits up abruptly. “No, this isn’t because I brought Jericho, and don’t try to blame her, Damien. We wouldn’t even have this much grace if it weren’t for the fact that she knocked the dragon out of the sky, so show some respect for your Luna.”

I’m grateful suddenly that Channing is distracted. He won’t see my consternation as I consider what he’s said.

While it’s true that I did hurt Drake when I shocked him upon our first meeting, either I didn’t do as much damage as everyone thought or his recovery time is faster than we anticipated. Or some combination of both.

And that makes sense. Like the werewolves, Drake is a supernatural being with a preternaturally long lifespan. His healing processes must be accelerated, exactly like the wolves’ are.

Like mine are.

But that’s a whole other question, one I can figure out later once I’ve settled the argument between the wolves and the dragon.

What’s really given the wolves their leeway to continue to develop their tracking weapon is that I drained Drake's energy after I slept with him. That thought makes my stomach knot up painfully with multiple different reasons for my guilt. Forcing that aside, I redirect my thoughts to dealing with the current situation.

It had only been about a month since I knocked the dragon out of the sky when I encountered Drake on the beach. So I have to expect his recovery this time will be just as fast, perhaps even faster than it was the first time I hurt him. 

Hurt him. Hurt Channing. My guilt twangs again. God, I’m a horrible person.

By the time we get back to Crossroads, a full two weeks will have passed during which time the dragon will have rested and recuperated. After that, the odds are good he’ll be coming for me. Since I’m the Alpha’s mate, that will pit him against all the werewolves of Avernus. I have got to find the oracle and get Drake out of Crossroads.

“Are you really complaining about the opportunity to explore some of Belfast? Okay then. Call today’s schedule off. We’ll do some sightseeing,” he lifts the curtains aside and peers out at the pouring rain, “indoors probably. Everyone's been working excessively hard. I think we're entitled to a day off. We’ll make a relaxing day out of it and enjoy ourselves. I’ll deal with the fallout later.”

I wonder suddenly if that’s actually what he intends. Only a few nights ago, he told me he wanted to stop being Alpha. I don’t know what would happen if he just walked away from it, but something tells me it would set the wolves back significantly on their mission to find and kill the dragon. That’s another opportunity presented to me. 

One I'm not certain I'm willing to take.

“Yeah, I called Ferdi’s room already. He didn’t answer. We both know he’s not there—I don’t know why he bothers renting a hotel room when he plans on screwing his way through the beds of every single girl in Belfast.” While that comment makes me cringe, apparently, it’s amusing to Channing because he chuckles. “I’ll try his cell after I get off the phone with you. Are we agreed then?”

The question is met with another incoherent murmur, but the tone tells me that it’s one of assent.

“Okay. Get some more rest. We’ll meet you in the restaurant later and decide what to do for the day.” Channing sets the phone’s handset in place. Still peering out the window, he rises, stretching his back, and yawns. Then he reaches for his cellphone.

Frankly, it’s the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The dim light highlights the finely apportioned muscles of his body, contrasting them against his hard shadowed lines. That includes the mouthwatering V of his, which right now, I’d dearly love to lick, following its trail to something even more interesting. From my current perspective on the bed across the room, Channing’s sexy silhouette comes completely anatomically correct, and his generous endowment starts my blood moving and my female core warming instantly.

“What was that about?” I ask.

Clearly, he was lost in his own thoughts and hadn’t heard me because he turns my way fast, then drops the curtains. With both hands free, he finishes the text he was sending, presumably to Ferdi. “It’s raining again. Harder than yesterday. I’m tired of rearranging schedules and trying to get all this stuff accomplished in a few disjointed days each week.” Dropping his phone on the desk, he pads that delectable body of his back to the bed.

Lifting the covers, he slides in next to me. I squeak and violently heave myself away as his cold feet brush against mine. It earns me a low, interested growl and a chuckle as he pursues me under the covers.

“So you canceled everything today?”

With the blankets insulating all the heat generated by his werewolf metabolism, Channing warms quickly. Despite my protests, he captures me under the covers and drags me against him. “I did,” he replies, settling me against his side with my head pillowed on his shoulder. He takes the hand I rest over his heart and directs it slowly downward. “If I were based here, our progress might be different. I’m getting tired of the struggle, of trying to force this plan to work.”

He gives a low groan, guiding my hand down the stiffening length of him against his thigh. Then he lets me loose, leaving me to my own willing and capable devices.

“I thought you said you didn’t see the point of the dragon hunt anymore.”

“Oh, God, babydoll,” he gasps at my ministrations. “I don’t—I don’t—see the point. Ah! Oh God! Except about you.”

My hand stills on his hard staff, tenting the blankets over us. “What about me? What do I have to do with anything?”

“He’s after you, Jericho.” In the spilt second between his sentences, Channing pounces. “I’m not—,” he says, landing on top of me, “—letting him—,” he levers himself between my legs, “—take you from me.”

I arch as his mouth seals over mine, devouring my moan when he sheaths himself fully inside me. Wrenching my mouth away from his control, I gasp out, “He can’t.”

**

Another hour passes before Channing and I roll out of bed. We’re both still jet lagged and desperately craving coffee. But it was the low-energy way he made love to me this morning, much less athletic than he typically is, that lets me know exactly what toll dragon-hunting and being Alpha is having on my mate.

Suddenly, I wish I’d told him ‘no’ about coming here so I could have started my KDS job sooner. I know there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to find the oracle using the Heritage database, but something instinctive tells me I can. The sooner I do, the sooner the stress is off Channing and the sooner I get Drake mated and out of all our hair.

When he collects it to go downstairs for breakfast, there’s a text on Channing’s phone from Ferdi. He opts to forgo breakfast with the rest of us in favor of his present pursuit. Then asks us to text him when we’re headed out sightseeing so he can meet us.

Damien’s already seated in the restaurant when we get there, halfway through his first cup of coffee and not any less bleary-eyed.

“Morning, Damien.” I rub gently across his shoulders, then give him a pat and take the seat next to him in the chair that Channing holds out for me.

“Hey, Jericho.” His nose twitches almost imperceptibly and his eyes flick to Channing. It’s the first time I realize just exactly how sensitive their full-blooded werewolf noses are.

Oblivious, my mate waves down Nora. She’s making her way around the much more crowded restaurant this morning with a pot full of coffee as she checks on her guests.

“Good morning,” Nora says cheerily, and it’s almost enough to make me groan. “You two care for coffee? Or would you prefer a nice cuppa?”

“Coffee, please,” Channing replies, quickly turning over the two mugs before him and me that are presently upside down on saucers at the restaurant’s pre-set tables.

Nora smiles and starts filling. “Waiting on the other lad yet? Or shall I have the cook start some breakfast for you?”

“Is he even going to join us?” Damien asks tersely, and I’m relieved to see his disapproval of Ferdi’s behavior.

He and I have a lot of personal values in common. If I was about thirty IQ points smarter, I might have been of interest to the resident Avernus techo-geek. And if there hadn’t been Channing, if he’d ever have asked me, Damien and I might have dated happily.

“He’s skipping breakfast,” Channing replies. “If you wouldn’t mind, please, go ahead and get something started for us. Ferdi will meet us wherever we decide were going.”

“Oh aye?” Nora says, and I begin to wonder what ‘aye’ even means. It’s almost as if they don’t have ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in Irish. “Will ya be wanting Fia this morning already?”

“Yes, please,” I tell Nora and she bustles away quickly to see to our orders and probably to call our city guide.

“Who’s Fia?” Damien asks.

“Kieran’s granddaughter. She took me around town a little bit yesterday afternoon.”

He makes a low humming sound as acknowledgement, taking a sip from his coffee. “Did you have plans today already?”

I glance towards the restaurant’s front windows. I stare moodily at the continuous downpour and the gray skies. “We were supposed to go the arts festival, but it’s an outdoor set up. Even if the vendors are out, it’ll be miserable in this. I’d suggest we skip it and go to the Titanic Quarter and investigate what’s around there.”

“What is around there?” Channing asks, tuning in again as the first shots of caffeine hit his system.

“Fia said it’s a revival project along the waterfront of Belfast Harbor and Queen’s Island where the shipyard once was. There are some maritime historical landmarks. The HMS Caroline, which is a World War I battleship, and SS Nomadic, which is the last surviving White Star line ship, are there. And the Titanic Belfast museum and Catalyst Science Park are too,” I explain. “There’s a lot more in the Quarter as I understand, but with the weather like this, we might not want to explore today.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.” My mate looks across the table to Damien. “You game?”

He shrugs and nods but gets a lot more enthusiastic when Fia arrives.

Kieran’s granddaughter is not particularly impressive physically, particularly compared to Channing and Damien’s werewolf physiques. She’s kind of short, even shorter than me, but still strong. She’s dark-haired and fair-complected, with striking gray-blue eyes and a generous freckled mass across both cheeks and over her nose. Put simply, she’s pretty.

And, remarkably, that catches Damien’s eye.

Since we’re still waiting on our breakfast and the restaurant’s cleared out some, we move to a booth to sit. That gives him his chance to talk to her, and it’s quickly apparent that Fia’s ferocious emotions and fierce intelligence and determination are a big hit with our sweet and nerdy Damien.

About time another girl caught his eye.> Channing’s wolf voice rings in my head as we follow Fia and Damien out to her car.

Another? There was a first one?> That genuinely surprises me. 

Yeah, he had another crush.> My mate opens the rear passenger door for me, then slides in after. I’m glad to see he’s past that.>

Up front, Damien and Fia are chatting amicably with each other as she starts the car, then pulls us into traffic.

What was wrong with his crush?>

There’s something fierce and inflexible in his tone when he replies, but his words are what really stuns me. She’s mine.>