Taking It Slow (Code of Honor Book 4) Read online

  “Yes,” he told the man he loved with all of his heart. “I’ll marry you.”

  Liam slipped one of the rings onto his finger and held out the box.

  Spencer’s fingers fumbled, but he managed to get the other ring out and slide it home on Liam’s hand.

  Liam lifted his ring finger to his lips and kissed it.

  “I love you,” his fiancé whispered.

  “Until eternity,” he murmured back and drew Liam in for a long, slow kiss.

  “Woot!” Wesley shouted and Spencer drew back with a surprised laugh. How the hell was Wesley there? And with Adam and Jessica standing next to him.

  It took Spencer a moment to realize that all of Infinity and Fury, dressed in casual beach wear, were standing behind the teenagers.

  “What the hell?” He gaped in shock at Liam and then back at the unit.

  They laughed and hooted while Maddox and River crowded forward to admire the rings.

  “Congratulations, bro,” Maddox said with a smile.

  “Thank you.” He was still gobsmacked and turned to look at Liam again.

  “I wanted this to be a memorable occasion, with all of our friends,” Liam said huskily. “Surprised?”

  Leave it to Liam to invite their friends and family across the world.

  Was he surprised? Not really. Happy was more the word he’d use.

  “You are something else.”

  “Something good I hope?”

  “Mhmm, amazing.”

  “Now that’s a word I can get behind,” Liam grinned.

  “What happened to keeping it on the down low?”

  Liam’s lip curled. “Screw the down low.”

  Spencer laughed loudly. God, he so loved this man.

  Someone popped a cork and showered them with champagne. Laughter rang out loudly.

  Spencer wondered what had taken him so long to realize that taking it slow wasn’t always the best recourse. Not when it came to love.

  He took the glass River handed him with a wink and tapped it against Liam’s.

  “Here’s to us,” he said.

  “To us,” Liam agreed.

  Spencer leaned in and kissed Liam on the lips, the kiss lingered causing the hooting and hollering of the unit. When he lifted his head, Liam’s eyes promised everything he wanted in their future; love and happiness.

  The End

  SNEAK PEAK of HUNTED (Pacific Northwest Shifters book 1)

  “There you are,” Jace DeLeon muttered beneath his breath as he crouched in the graveled parking lot and studied the wet tracks near his feet.

  The spring thunderstorm had eased off in the crisp May air, leaving the streets shiny and wet, and one lone light sent a glimmer of white across the asphalt. He’d gotten lucky after the first set of tracks had vanished beneath the downpour and was able to pick up the next set behind a deserted warehouse.

  Rising to his feet, he eased open his black trench coat and withdrew one of his two short swords. The blades gleamed, catching the dim light. They were a matching set of eighteenth-century titan steel with intricate carvings along slightly beveled edges. The blades were beyond razor sharp and quite capable of taking off a shifter’s head. Passed down from his grandfather to his father, and now to him, they were his responsibility, his to keep, and he’d protect them with his life. To lose one of his swords would be similar to losing a limb.

  A sound at the end of the alley drew his head up and he advanced, again picking up the trail easily.

  His own tiredness was catching up with him, but Cage had to be exhausted. Not only did Cage have a good two day start ahead of him, he’d covered a lot of ground.

  Sometimes, the job he was born into fucking sucked.

  The alpha of the Swiftcrest wolf pack had contracted the Rabid Virus and Jace had volunteered to put him down. By putting Cage down, Jace would be killing his best friend.

  And there was nothing he could do to change the outcome. Hunters and shifters coexisted, as well as a whole host of other entities. Sure, every once in a while, skirmishes broke out about other issues, but on the whole, otherworldly beings had lived together in harmony for centuries.

  As a hunter, it was his responsibility to take the life of someone who’d contracted the virus to avoid widespread death among the supernatural population.

  It had all started five days ago when Jace’s phone alert went off and simultaneously, he’d gotten a call from Cage’s second-in-command.

  “Cage has been bitten. He’s contracted the Rabid Virus and he’s on the run,” Griffin’s deep voice rumbled over the phone.

  “What the fuck?” His heart plummeted. Every thought had flown out of his head at the thought of the powerful wolf shifter, the pack alpha, writhing in pain.

  “Who the hell got close enough to bite Cage and pass on the disease?” It didn’t make sense; the hunters had no known Rabid Virus cases open. He glared at his phone and the Rabid Virus alert flashing on the screen.

  “I don’t know, but Brock tried to put Cage down. He put several bullets in him, but Cage is too powerful,” Griffin growled.

  “You’re fucking lucky he didn’t decapitate Brock!” he’d snapped, and anger, rage, and fear for a man he admired all rolled through him.

  “Yeah, well, thankfully, Brock is okay. As much as this kills me to say, I’d suggest shoot on sight and don’t risk it spreading,” Griffin snarled and hung up the phone.

  Jace punched in Cage’s phone number. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Leave a message,” Cage’s deep, growly voice said before a beep sounded.

  “You better fucking call me,” he hissed before hanging up. At this point, Cage would be too sick to answer, but Jace’s gut told him Cage had ditched his phone. It was the smart thing to do, so no tracking device. Fortunately, Jace didn’t need a tracking device to find Cage. As a hunter, he had otherworldly abilities.

  His throat squeezed. Just last week, he and Cage had hung out in the city. Roaming through the gay bars searching for some tail. They’d found nothing appealing and had ended up just the two of them, together, sharing a drink in the park and laughing up at the stars. He clenched his jaw and stiffened his legs to stop the trembling.

  Shoving the phone away, he stalked across the room.

  A throat clearing had him whirling toward the door where he found Drew, the leader of the Pacific Northwest Hunters, standing in the doorway.

  “It’s Cage, he’s contracted the Rabid Virus. Griffin said Brock tried to put him down, but Cage got away.” The words were out before Drew could say a word.

  “I was just coming to inform you.” Drew’s words sounded sad. It was Drew’s job to monitor all shifter activity in the Pacific Northwest region and Alaskan territory with only a handful of hunters. Jace didn’t envy the man his job.

  “It’s an alert on the alpha.”

  Jace’s eyes stung and burned beneath the sympathetic gaze. In a moment of weakness, he’d talked with Drew about his friendship with Cage. Of course, he’d assured his leader they were nothing but very good friends.

  “Do we know who the original carrier is?”

  “No.” Drew frowned.

  Jace wasn’t surprised. Not knowing who the carrier could be wasn’t a surprise, sometimes the carrier was killed several days later. He stalked across the room and lifted his short swords from where they sat in their case. The ancient blades instantly brightened, glowing in his grip.

  “I can send someone else after him,” Drew said gently, following him.

  “No.” He swallowed. “I’ll find him.” He tucked his blades into the sheaths that hung at his waist and slid on his dark trench coat. It dropped and swirled against his black boots.

  “Will you be able to deliver the killing blow? I can’t lose you, Jace, if he bites you,” Drew murmured.

  A Rabid Virus bite could kill a hunter. While he’d heard of a few hunter’s living through the experience, they’d gone mad and were quickly killed by the council. Yet, he couldn’t le
ave Cage out there alone and suffering, and he wouldn’t leave his friend’s fate to anyone else.

  “I’ll do it,” he snapped, pushing back the tears that lingered at the edge of his vision. “It has to be me.”

  “I’ll give you three days, then I’m sending in the team,” Drew ordered.

  “Fine,” he said through his clenched teeth.

  Three fucking days.

  Drew’s threat had been four days ago and over the past twenty-four hours, Jace had come across several hunters who were also looking for Cage, but so far, no one had been successful in locating the alpha.

  Reaching the end of the alley where he’d heard the slight sound, he stilled and cocked his head.

  As a born hunter, he had supernatural abilities that allowed him to hear sounds no normal man could, his vision and strength were equal to that of a shifter, and his life span covered centuries. So, while he couldn’t see the shifter tucked up inside the dark and filthy warehouse, he could hear their labored breathing and ragged heartbeat.

  The wind picked up and suddenly brought with it the sweetest trace of Cage on the air. The hint of cinnamon and cloves was mixed with blood and something else, something darker. Fuck. The virus caused most shifters to go on a killing spree, but not Cage. The alpha had ungodly control and had gone to ground.

  His hand tightened around his sword as he drew the other twin blade from its sheath beneath his coat. Like old friends, the twin swords sang in his grip, a silent song but a sad one, feeding on his gut-wrenching sorrow over the task that lay ahead.

  Drawing a deep breath, Jace stepped through the doorway and into the dark beyond.

  Cage Ashwood sucked in another ragged breath, his lungs giving a wet wheeze. He gasped as he dug out the silver bullet from his stomach. It didn’t help. There were three more out of reach in his back that were making the room foggy and his ability to stay ahead of the hunters much more difficult.

  His own pack had turned on him. He couldn’t blame Brock for shooting him when the news came out. But did the kid have to shoot him four times? The little fucker. He was going to give Brock a beat down if he made it out of this alive. The poor teenager had been scared shitless and the gun had wobbled in his hands.

  Cage had lunged up and away, trying to avoid the bullets, but one had caught him in the gut. He’d stumbled, then yelled over his shoulder, “I’m not infected,” before the gun went off three more times, each one plunging into his back with the burn only silver could deliver. He hadn’t stopped to try and explain any further. Brock was only doing what he’d been taught: kill first when someone was reported.

  The Rabid Virus had been created a number of years ago during a time when humans had tried to eradicate shifters from the face of the earth. And while they now lived in relative peace, it didn’t change the fact that the virus was still contractable and he was a wanted man.

  Fuck. Not only did they have to worry about the virus, now apparently, they had to worry about bogus reporting.

  The hunters would shoot him on sight. Cage couldn’t blame them, an infected alpha with his power could wipe out a whole pack of shifters. So far, they’d been lucky and only shifters with the virus attacked other shifters. However, if any infected shifter attacked a human, the shaky alliance they’d forged over the past decade would be jeopardized.

  He needed to reach Griffin. If he could get to his enforcer, he’d see he wasn’t infected. Griffin Raines had been second-in-command to Cage’s father and loyal to his family for centuries. When Cage had left the pack of his birth two decades ago, Griffin had been the only one at his side. Griffin would be able to find out who had filed the bogus report.

  Perhaps if he could get to his father’s pack, he would hide him. No. He couldn’t do that, it would put his father’s pack in danger. Not to mention, the pack would start shooting the moment he approached his father’s home.

  What about Jace? He could help. Fuck, he couldn’t do that either. It was better if Jace stayed away and remembered him as he was, not riddled with silver and bleeding out.

  Silver leaked out of his gut wound as his body tried to heal itself. His wolf thrashed and howled beneath his skin, unable to shift.

  He scooped the dripping silver from around the wound and flung it angrily away. It landed with a splat on the cold concrete floor. He dabbed at the wound with the tail of his shirt.

  It was only a matter of time before the hunters found him. He knew protocol. They would shoot on sight and not ask questions.

  It wasn’t a sound that drew him into complete stillness, but rather a feeling accompanied by a rich, decadent scent. A fragrance much like spring time and one his heart would know anywhere. He gasped, unable to keep his wolf from reacting to how close Jace was to him.

  He didn’t bother to call out and tell Jace he wasn’t infected. Jace was smart, he wouldn’t take a chance giving away his position by talking. It was too risky.

  Cage was fiercely glad that Jace was cautious. That was one of the things that had kept the hunter alive for more than a century. Not as old as he was, Cage had a good two centuries on Jace, but it didn’t affect their attraction to one another.

  Jace was relatively new to the Pacific Northwest Hunters. Having shown up a decade ago, Cage met the man and quickly learned that Jace had recently finished hunter training. The training was extensive and covered one century before any hunter could hope to be assigned to a unit. The Pacific Northwest Hunters had eagerly accepted Jace into their ranks. The hunter came from a long line of hunters and was not only coveted because of his heritage and bloodline, but because he was excellent at his job. Jace was a natural born hunter with unparalleled skills.

  He pictured the man’s cobalt blue eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes, set in his beautifully sculpted face. The way his silky black hair hung to his ass when it was free. The vision of the hunter’s sleek body when they’d taken a camping trip in the spring up into Alaska and skinny-dipped at the falls came pulsing through his mind. It had been just the two of them and Cage had never felt more content in his life than when he was with Jace.

  Near the water, Jace stood naked before lifting and braiding his heavy coal-black hair. When he tied off the end, Jace flipped it over his shoulder and the heavy rope fell to the top of his bare ass. Perfectly formed globes of round firmness ended where sculpted legs began. The backdrop of the falls a flawless setting for an ethereal being.

  “Are you going to stand there staring or are you coming in?” Jace taunted, and Cage was presented with smooth, rippling abs and a treasure trail that started around his belly button and ended at his groin, nesting as a frame for his perfectly cut cock.

  He huffed a breath. “Tease.”

  “You wish.” Jace rolled his eyes, always keeping him at arm’s length.

  Cage started pulling off his own clothing, tossing them aside, trying at the same time to hide his hard-on even though he couldn’t mask the smell of his arousal. Jace only smiled as if amused by him, cobalt eyes flashing before he dove into the water.

  Cage dove in seconds later, and they spent hours swimming, wrestling, and laughing.

  It was sometime during that day when Cage had fallen in love. Not only with the beauty that was Jace, but with his generous heart and snarky attitude. His wolf had been in wholehearted agreement, but Jace was elusive and maddening.

  Some lousy outdated rule forbid hunters and shifters to be anything more than friends. It hadn’t been a shifter rule, that was for sure. It had rolled down from the hunters centuries ago, and nobody knew the roots of its origins, but if a blood bond happened between a hunter and shifter, the hunter would die from it. As a result, they couldn’t even be mates, and if caught, the offenders would be separated.

  The quiet jogged him back to the warehouse and he opened his eyes. Even though Jace had made no sound, Cage could feel him.

  If it had to be anyone, then Cage was glad it was Jace. If the last face he saw on earth was Jace’s, then he’d die a happy man. The room whi
rled and he eased his head back against the wooden post behind him. His hand flopped to his side, resting on the cold concrete, too weak from the silver poisoning to move.

  His breath grew labored as he waited in the dark for the man he loved to kill him.

  Jace was signing his own death sentence by not ending this.

  Even at one hundred yards, one of the blades he held could sever Cage’s head from his shoulders. Using only his mind, Jace could send his blade, powerful and true, to its target.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists again and again around the handles. The blades heated with his indecision. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth.

  Something wasn’t fucking right about this whole goddamned situation.

  He lifted his head, drew in a long breath, and held it. He found Cage’s taste first; he filtered through the flavors and texture, and then the sweat and blood. He moved his tongue around, searching for that one last unknown element. Was it the virus he tasted? If he could taste it, then it was already too late for him. He’d never actually been this close to someone who’d contracted it, but he’d heard the stories. Jace had always flung his blade from afar and called in the hazmat suits to clean up at the location.

  He closed his eyes, his mouth watering, and then it hit him, it was silver. What. The. Ever. Living. Fuck?

  That last unknown element was silver, something Cage could recover from. Still, though, he couldn’t be sure Cage didn’t have the virus.

  He blinked his eyes open and concentrated on Cage sitting on the concrete floor with his head resting back, eyes closed, arms loose at his sides, blood on his shirt.

  He’s suffering. Throw the fucking blade and end his misery.

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