Free A Cowboy in Ravenna by Jan Irving

Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
    He consulted his map and, like everything in the micro city, what he wanted to see was within close walking distance. They walked through winding streets, past cafés and courtyards, villas fronted by tall grass and overblown roses.
    “Another pile of brick,” Trin said, when they reached their unimpressive looking destination. “Except smaller.”
    “Yeah, the Arian Baptistery isn’t very big,” Chace said. “And it’s not an architectural marvel.” They went down a spiral staircase and into the base of the tower, breathing in the dank earth smell. Trin looked around at bare walls, tiny windows.
    “Look up,” Chace whispered.
    Above them in tiny jewels a youth was being baptised.
    “Oh… God, Chace. He looks so human, so vulnerable.”
    “Once upon a time it was sacrilege to portray Jesus that way,” Chace told Trin, hoping he’d understand the deeper message. “Times change.”
    Trin studied Chace, as if considering his words. “After my son went missing I searched for him. I thought I was taking just another job when I met you. Taking care of you… I had a purpose. I’ll never be whole without Sage, but I had a purpose.”
    Chace didn’t speak. What was there to say?
    He looked like who he was, a man close to the earth, a simple working man. “You make me live.” Trin grazed the side of Chace’s face with rough fingers.
    “If I could do it, I’d give you back your son,” Chace said. “I’d do anything…”
    Trin hugged Chace. Emotion vibrated through the walls, silent singing.
    Chace swallowed, took a step back. I love you, I love you. He ached to say it. He cleared his throat. “We’ll do what we can for those lost kids. I know you need to heal them, bring them home to their families.”
    Trin nodded. He put an arm around Chace, who didn’t care if anyone came in or if they shocked anyone. Expressing how he felt here was right.
    “Thanks.”
    Chace smiled. “For what?”
    “For bringing me here. I expected to feel like Cass—out of place, some hick cowboy, but this…” Trin glanced up at the ceiling again. “I don’t have words. It grabs me by the throat.”
    “Some things don’t need words.” Like how Chace felt.
    “Touching.” A hulking shadow blocked the sunshine from the single entrance.
    Trin shoved Chace behind him.
    “Cut it out.” Chace moved beside Trin, who tugged Chace close enough to feel Trin’s body heat.
    “Calhoun,” Trin said.
    The man was massive and intimidating in inky black leather. A nightmare of a scar ran down from his forehead to his left cheek. Eyes the pale blue of a gas fire burned over Chace.
    “Pretty boy you got.”
    “Don’t look at him.”
    “He’s just what the slavers look for—beautiful, a natural human submissive.”
    “I just called you. What are you doing in Italy?” Trin demanded.
    “The kids are here , Trin.”
    “I know.”
    Calhoun cocked a brow. “Mind telling me how?” His black hair flowed free over his shoulders, so long it reached his hips, a silken curtain. A weird picture popped into Chace’s head. Calhoun and Sabin, bodies close, bright and dark hair tangled.
    “It’s a long story,” Trin said.
    “I’m for a Moretti. Been here long enough to get a taste for Italian beer,” Calhoun said.
    Chace narrowed his eyes, still looking Calhoun over. “You’re a shifter, like Trin, like Sabin.”
    Blue eyes fixed on his. “You know Sabin?”
    Chace bit his lip.
    “What do you know about Sabin?” Trin asked, his body tightening whenever Calhoun looked in Chace’s direction.
    “He’s mated to the head alpha of these parts. Word is he was once a truly superior whore.”
    Chace’s gut twisted. “I think he was one of the lost kids.”
    “Yeah,” Calhoun said. “So you up for that beer?”

Chapter Eight

    “Are you scared?” Sabin asked Chace hours later.
    Chace was curled in one of the uncomfortable gold and white chairs in the hotel room. Sabin was