...The valet brought around Micah’s black Mercedes. Taking the keys, Micah slipped behind the wheel.

James settled into the passenger seat with ease, seemingly totally comfortable. Micah drove them home in silence. James’s head was back, his eyes closed.

He flipped off the lights before pulling into the driveway. James’s low chuckle had Micah looking over.

“Nice trick, turning the lights off. It makes me think that isn’t the first time you’ve snuck out.”

“I don’t want to wake anyone up,” Micah said as they climbed out of the car. “I don’t sneak out, I can come and go as I please.”

James snorted. “As long as you don’t mind getting grilled about it later.”

“The Farrants are brilliant pack leaders,” Micah defended.

“Sure, sure. They’re great.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“And suddenly you’re in charge of policing that also, Guardian?”

Micah leapt over the hood of the car in one powerful movement, landing squarely in front of James. “Don’t tempt me, blood-child.”

“You’re no better than I,” James snarled, shoving Micah back a step. “Except that I had the courage to leave this.” He flung out his hand, indicating the house. “I had the courage to go out and be who I am, live my life, instead of being shoved into one of the little boxes they reserve for us.”

“Who are you that you should be exempt from the rules the rest of the world plays by? Every society has rules. Wolves are no different.” Micah’s temper rose, boiling like lava in his belly. Who was James to judge him?

“So, because I like to fuck men I have to settle for being the watchdog, for raising the pups of bitches too stupid to take care of their own young?” James was breathing heavy. Moonlight touched his golden hair, and Micah hated himself for still wanting him.

Micah crossed his arms. “I see you still haven’t grown up.”

“Asshole. You have no idea what life is, what living is.”

“I know that being a part of something—a pack, a family—and taking responsibility for that family, is the most important thing in life. You go ahead and run around Europe fucking artists and feeding your narcissism. If you think that makes you a rebel or some revolutionary, fine. Have a nice time.”

Micah turned his back on James, prepared to head to his house.

James jumped him, and even with Micah’s quick reflexes he wasn’t able to get away. The tackle threw Micah facedown into the dirt. Micah’s beast snarled to life, feeding superhuman strength to his muscles. With a snarl, he threw James off his back and jumped to his feet. James scrambled up, squaring off with him. They circled each other, the actions of wolves, in the bodies of men.

James, lacking Micah’s patience and tactical skill, leapt first. Micah caught him mid-leap, fisting his hands in James’s shirt as he sidestepped so that the man’s own motion carried him to the ground. Using his hold on James’s shirt, Micah followed him down, pinning him and throwing one leg across his thighs to hold him in place.

Micah let out a shout of triumph as James thrashed. The younger man bared his teeth.

“Let me up,” James demanded.

“No.”

“Then you’d better be prepared.”

Micah bared his teeth. “Prepared for what?”