to get in each location provided icing on the cake so he could enjoy life a bit.
Why they referred to themselves as the Romulus, he had no idea. He knew there were brothers, Romulus and Remus, in Roman mythology who were nursed by a wolf in infancy. It was a common story shifters learned as children. Many shifters believed Romulus and Remus were the predecessors of today’s wolf-shifting community. Eventually Romulus killed his brother. If this group was called the Romulus, was there a Remus also? He cackled to himself. Except for the first time two men had come to his door years ago, he’d never met personally with any of them. He wouldn’t be able to describe the individuals he’d initially met with if he tried. It had been so long.
One thing he did know, if he had it to do over again, he would never choose this path. It hadn’t been worth it. He’d been promised a fucking mate and offspring to start his own pack of which he would be the Alpha. King. He was hanging on by a thread now with more promises the Romulus were going to make everything right, providing him with a new mate and guaranteeing him things would go better with her.
He sighed. At this point he couldn’t decide if he was more pissed with the fucking Romulus for getting him into this nomad lifestyle, or that damn bitch Ashley for not complying with the game plan. No matter what involvement the Romulus had in his initial claiming of the bitch, she never respected him the way a mate should. His blood still boiled thinking about her fleeing him that day last year. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was his, damnit, and if he ever got the opportunity, he would remind her of this in no uncertain terms.
She would pay. The Romulus didn’t need to know his thoughts on Ashley. Hell, lately any ideas he had concerning his wayward mate were about the only thing he still held sacred. The Romulus seemed to have eyes everywhere. They fucking called him so often with relocation instructions he could barely lie down in one bed for more than a week at a time.
Motherfucker .
It was time to go.
Backing through the small apartment, Damon glanced around in the usual manner, covering his bases as he had dozens of times in the past. He glanced out the window at the dead of night, verified no one was currently watching, and then slipped into the darkness and moved stealthily away from this latest existence in bum-fuck Indiana.
•●•
Ashley sat at her easel in the art studio her father had relegated to one half of the basement. It dawned on her she’d been holding her brush in the air for ages when her arm began to shake. A clean canvas rested in front of her but there was no paint on the brush. In fact, there was no paint on her pallet.
She relaxed her arm, shaking her head against her complete distraction. She couldn’t think or concentrate anymore. It grew worse every day. Her thoughts were filled with one thing—Evan Harmon. She’d only seen him that one weekend, but his features were burned into the back of her eyelids. She knew his scent as though he were in the room with her. She could conjure it at will and would spin her head in every direction looking for him.
He was never there.
It was her own fault. She’d told him to leave. She’d asked him not to come back. She’d sent him away all by herself.
She knew he’d left town, buried himself in work. It was for the best.
Right?
Ugh.
Ashley set the paintbrush down and wandered to the window. It was gorgeous outside. Her parents had a walkout basement, so one side opened to the backyard. It had snowed all night and the ground was white, unadulterated by footprints this early in the day.
The world looked pristine and pure. Giant flakes drifted casually from the sky as though in no hurry to reach their destination.
She closed her eyes. Nothing about her life was as calm, relaxed, simple, or unpolluted as the backyard was. She felt as though she muddied the ground just by looking.
It was
Why they referred to themselves as the Romulus, he had no idea. He knew there were brothers, Romulus and Remus, in Roman mythology who were nursed by a wolf in infancy. It was a common story shifters learned as children. Many shifters believed Romulus and Remus were the predecessors of today’s wolf-shifting community. Eventually Romulus killed his brother. If this group was called the Romulus, was there a Remus also? He cackled to himself. Except for the first time two men had come to his door years ago, he’d never met personally with any of them. He wouldn’t be able to describe the individuals he’d initially met with if he tried. It had been so long.
One thing he did know, if he had it to do over again, he would never choose this path. It hadn’t been worth it. He’d been promised a fucking mate and offspring to start his own pack of which he would be the Alpha. King. He was hanging on by a thread now with more promises the Romulus were going to make everything right, providing him with a new mate and guaranteeing him things would go better with her.
He sighed. At this point he couldn’t decide if he was more pissed with the fucking Romulus for getting him into this nomad lifestyle, or that damn bitch Ashley for not complying with the game plan. No matter what involvement the Romulus had in his initial claiming of the bitch, she never respected him the way a mate should. His blood still boiled thinking about her fleeing him that day last year. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was his, damnit, and if he ever got the opportunity, he would remind her of this in no uncertain terms.
She would pay. The Romulus didn’t need to know his thoughts on Ashley. Hell, lately any ideas he had concerning his wayward mate were about the only thing he still held sacred. The Romulus seemed to have eyes everywhere. They fucking called him so often with relocation instructions he could barely lie down in one bed for more than a week at a time.
Motherfucker .
It was time to go.
Backing through the small apartment, Damon glanced around in the usual manner, covering his bases as he had dozens of times in the past. He glanced out the window at the dead of night, verified no one was currently watching, and then slipped into the darkness and moved stealthily away from this latest existence in bum-fuck Indiana.
•●•
Ashley sat at her easel in the art studio her father had relegated to one half of the basement. It dawned on her she’d been holding her brush in the air for ages when her arm began to shake. A clean canvas rested in front of her but there was no paint on the brush. In fact, there was no paint on her pallet.
She relaxed her arm, shaking her head against her complete distraction. She couldn’t think or concentrate anymore. It grew worse every day. Her thoughts were filled with one thing—Evan Harmon. She’d only seen him that one weekend, but his features were burned into the back of her eyelids. She knew his scent as though he were in the room with her. She could conjure it at will and would spin her head in every direction looking for him.
He was never there.
It was her own fault. She’d told him to leave. She’d asked him not to come back. She’d sent him away all by herself.
She knew he’d left town, buried himself in work. It was for the best.
Right?
Ugh.
Ashley set the paintbrush down and wandered to the window. It was gorgeous outside. Her parents had a walkout basement, so one side opened to the backyard. It had snowed all night and the ground was white, unadulterated by footprints this early in the day.
The world looked pristine and pure. Giant flakes drifted casually from the sky as though in no hurry to reach their destination.
She closed her eyes. Nothing about her life was as calm, relaxed, simple, or unpolluted as the backyard was. She felt as though she muddied the ground just by looking.
It was
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