Free A Cowboy in Ravenna by Jan Irving Page A

still on the bed. He looked tired, and Chace thought that if he could see Sabin’s spirit, it would resemble a fading bruise.
    “Yes, I’m scared.” he said.
    Sabin tensed.
    “Not of Trin. Have you really let yourself look at him instead of just throw verbal rocks? That white cowboy hat isn’t just an accessory.”
    “It’s not white. It’s off white,” Sabin said.
    “I know you… Uh, I get the feeling you haven’t had good experiences with a lover—”
    “I hate someone’s hands on me.” Sabin panted. He avoided Chace’s gaze.
    The outburst had been accidental, Chace guessed. But he said, “Trin will be back soon. Do you need anything while we’re gone?”
    “I’m going with you,” Sabin said.
    “You’re in no shape to…” Chace looked at the dark smear left by a fist below Sabin’s eye, sure that if he pointed out the shiner Sabin would sneer. Chace shut up and crossed his arms, waiting to hear Sabin’s reasoning.
    “It’s better if I show up for pack meetings. Marcello Rossi doesn’t like to be shamed.”
    “He’s your mate?”
    “I’m his,” Sabin said, voice as full of life as dried concrete.
    Chace remembered those moments in the Arian Baptistery, Trin’s arms around him, his body a shield when Calhoun showed up. Sabin had never known anything like that.
    “Why are you mated to this Marcello if you don’t love him?”
    “Love? You really are a virgin.”
    “Enough of a virgin to know I deserve a man who cares about me, or at least someone who will show me a good time,” Chace said.
    “Whatever. It wasn’t a forced mating,” Sabin said. “We made a bargain. Marcello helps me find the kids from the tankers and I…” The corner of Sabin’s lip lifted. “Do what I do best.”
    “You deserve better than that.”
    Sabin ignored him, getting off the bed and picking up his wrinkled shirt. “I need to soak it in hot water.”
    “Wear one of my shirts. I have plenty.”
    The bathroom door closed behind Sabin.
    “I’ll take that as a no,” Chace murmured.
    He pulled out his drawing pad to flip through the illustrations he’d captured of the mosaic carpets. Was it just yesterday Trin had kissed him for the first time? God, he’d come alive, the brush of lips against lips, warmth, hardness enclosing him as Trin fed on him, ravenous.
    Think of what you want to attract, not what you fear, he told himself, repeating the basic rule of universal attraction Sash had taught him. Chace was nervous about tonight but he wanted Trin, so he was just going to focus on Trin.
    Chace picked up his pencil and his hand took over. He was sketching Sabin, a younger Sabin with innocence and curiosity in his eyes, but he couldn’t get it right. His shoulders tightened with irritation. He hated when he couldn’t capture someone, though usually when he left it his unconscious worked it out.
    The key turned and Trin entered. “Sabin’s in the shower?”
    Chace nodded. He put aside the drawing, immediately more centred. “He says he’s coming tonight.”
    “Good, I want to meet his mate.” Trin’s voice was the rumble of thunder. “You mean to talk me out of it?”
    “I want the man who put bruises on Sabin to hurt.”
    Trin’s chest rose and fell sharply. He fisted Chace’s hair. “Jesus, you are hot, the way you’re impulsive, the way you take me out of myself and show me stuff I never thought I’d get, making it real.”
    “So you’re saying I’m hot when I’m pissed?”
    “Especially when you’re pissed.”
    Trin’s mouth on his, a full on, I want my man kiss.
    Chace whimpered, a submissive sound, but then tugged Trin to the bed and climbed on top of him, holding his wrists above his head. He felt a bit like a kitten holding down a tiger, but Trin’s eyes said I like it!
    He’d never imagined he’d have this confidence, that Trin would encourage it. He kissed the side of Trin’s face before tonguing his ear. Trin shuddered. “Oh Christ, you’re a switch.”
    Chace sat