The Call

The Call by Rob Knight Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com Copyright ©2007 by Torquere Press First published in www...

Author: Knight Rob | Lane Jourdan | Veinglory Emily

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The Call by Rob Knight

Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com

Copyright ©2007 by Torquere Press First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Table of Contents Foreword by Rob Knight Instinct by Jourdan Lane Son of a Bitch by Emily Veinglory Home Fires by BA Tortuga Contributors

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Foreword Werewolf stories represent one of the most popular genres in romance today. So, what is it about the werewolf that leaves us clamoring for more? We can talk about how the werewolf is a primal force, a child of nature who calls to the beast in all of us. Or, we can discuss the appeal of duality, where any man we meet on the street might have an animal inside. We could talk about all of that, but what it really boils down to is sex appeal. Danger is sexy. Alpha males are sexy. When it comes to the fantasy created by werewolf fiction, we can lose ourselves in a world where the razor's edge lives front and center, and where changing your life is as easy as changing your skin. The wildness, the intense passion, and the element of the unexpected keeps us up all night and breathing heavily, immersed in the rough and ready pack of the wolf. What more could any reader ask? The stories in The Call run under the moon, from the danger of a wolf meeting a city boy and drawing him into the world of the pack, to remote locations where the wolf comes out and the human hangs by a thread. These men are tough, honest, and full of animal attraction, and I hope you'll enjoy this collection as much as I do, no matter what your reason for loving the man who runs wild under the moon.

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Instinct By jourdan lane The headlines were always the same: someone getting arrested; someone in politics doing something really stupid; someone wanting to bring something new and improved to the area. I was all for new and improved. Business was business—and more business meant more money in my pocket. Something clanged and then the sound of a dish dropping to the floor and breaking drew my attention across the diner. One of the waitresses had apparently misjudged how much she could carry. I was glad it wasn't mine. Mine? Was nearly gone, the huge pile of bacon and eggs really hitting the spot. I turned my attention back to the paper and skimmed down to see if that new and improved proposal had a construction firm on bid yet. Sure enough, I'd missed out on the deadline for the bid. I growled and sipped at my lukewarm coffee, wondering just how I was going to keep paying my crew through the winter. I could always get by. But the men and women who worked for me depended on me to keep them working so they could support their families a little easier through the worst of the winter months. Raucous laughter erupted from the middle of the room and drew my attention again. Six men were gathered around a long table, talking and laughing and carrying on. I recognized them in an instant: ranchers who got together once a week when they made their runs to town for feed or other supplies. 5


Try as I might to ignore them, they just kept getting louder and louder. One of the men laughed hard, almost snorting. "Ha! There ain't been no wolves 'round here in years!" I groaned. Not this shit again. One man sat up in defense of the other's laughing. "What? You don't think I know what a wolf howling sounds like? Hell, I even saw some tracks near the back fence." Another man shook his head. "Well, you know they were wanting to reintroduce wolves back into these parts. Import them from Canada or some far off place." Another grumbled around a mouthful of food. "Tell you one thing. I find a wolf on my land—that bastard'll spend the rest of its life decorating my wall." All of the men agreed ... 'I hear that' echoing around the table. I frowned and folded the paper I'd been reading. It never quite set well when the subject of wolves was broached. I wasn't fond of them myself, but I had a link to them like no other. A link I couldn't get rid of to save my life. Digging in my wallet, I counted out payment for breakfast and a tip and set it beneath my mostly empty coffee cup. Beth would gripe and complain that I needed to let her ring me up, but she was nowhere to be seen and I wanted out of that place before I said something stupid. I liked Charlie's Diner and hated the thought of having to find somewhere else that gave me the same level of service. Beth always had me a plate made—warming and waiting— every morning of the week for the past three years. It was 6


something different every day, but it was always heavy on the meat. And I did like meat. **** A sharp knock sounded on the door to the office just before it opened. Beth poked her head inside, smiling as I looked up. "You hungry, Ethan?" Hungry? Oh yeah. Had been since about an hour after breakfast. I tried to keep the office stocked with food to snack on, but with me trying to save a little money, I'd been doing without. And when I say saving money ... I really was saving money. My grocery bill alone was over a thousand dollars a month. "I could eat." Beth smirked and walked in, shutting and locking the front door behind her. There were two paper bags in her hands and I could tell they were full. The bags were set on my desk and she paused a moment. "Want some company?" I sat up in the chair and began clearing away files and papers and supply books. If there was ever someone to share a meal with, it was Beth. "There's nothing I'd like better, darlin'." Hazel eyes flashed up at me, clearly amused. "So it's true; the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." I laughed. "Well, I do have a few other requirements." Beth opened the bags and began removing Styrofoam plates. "That's right. My tits are too big and I have an innie." 7


I grabbed her wrist, smiling up at her as our eyes met. "If I swung that way, you'd be the first I called." "Don't think I'm guilt-tripping you. I'm just teasing." "I know you are." I let her go and gestured to the chair just behind her. "So, what goodness did you bring us?" "For you? Steak, potatoes, chicken-fried steak." She shrugged. "I figured you might want a little variety other than just meat. And for me? I have a lovely ... salad." "Not like I have much choice in that," I said as I found the plate with the chicken-friend steak and opened it. "But then again, I can't see actually craving a salad..." She threw a plastic spoon at me, glaring. "Not like I crave salads either. Bastard." "I'm sorry—" Beth held her hand up, shaking her head. "Don't even. I'm just bitchy. Those assholes didn't leave the diner 'til about an hour ago." I shook my head and paused before taking a bite of my food. "That's why I left earlier. Figured it was best that I not get involved." "I forgive you for leaving without being rung up." With a guilty half-smile, I started eating. Beth did the same and we fell into a comfortable silence. As I finished the chicken-fried steak and most of the potatoes, I sat back, letting my food settle a bit before I started in on more. Beth was staring at my desk, seeming lost in thought. "What's on your mind?" When she continued her gazing and didn't look up, I called her name. "Beth!" "Hmm?" She looked up, then raised a brow. "What?" 8


"I asked what was on your mind." She dropped her fork and sat back in her chair, sighing. "I hate to even mention it, because it always leads to a fight, but the guys in the diner this morning haven't been the only ones going on about wolves. In the past month or so, several people have mentioned hearing them and ... seeing tracks." "Dogs," I whispered. "Probably coyotes." "Big tracks, Ethan. Big enough to get people talking, to get them unsettled enough to start seeking out what's leaving them." "It's not me." I gripped the arms of my chair so hard the wood creaked. "It's never been me." "I know you well enough to be sure of that. But I also know that there are ... people out there who want to make trouble for—especially if it means getting you involved." "I'm not getting involved. Let them talk; let them speculate. I'll sit right beside them and pretend to join in." "Mmmhmm." She picked up her fork again and stabbed at her salad, breaking the tines of the plastic fork. "And let that pack of assholes walk all over you!" "Leave it alone, Beth." "When are you going to suck it up and realize that you can't get away from this by ignoring it?" I slammed my fist on the desk, rage beginning to take hold at her words. It always led to a fight alright. Because she couldn't seem to let things go. But I didn't have to listen to it in my own office. "Get out!" Beth glared at me, shoved her salad away, and stood. The chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor and then tipped 9


over backward. She turned and started for the door, paused, but didn't turn around. "You used to say that you wish Jake had killed you that night. I think he did—you just haven't realized it yet." With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I weighed going after her against just staying put and letting her cool off. We'd fought over this same thing so many times now though, that I settled on letting her cool. But damn it, there wasn't an easy answer or an easy fix to any of this. The phone rang and I raised a brow. She never got over things that quickly. I picked up the handset and pressed the 'talk' button. "Russell Construction..." A long silence tempted me to hang up, but the line crackled and I realized it was still open. "Hello?" "Hello, Ethan." Jake. The sound of his voice sent waves of dread through me. My stomach knotted and lunch threatened to make a reappearance. The one and only reason he ever called was to fuck with my head. The sad part about it was that it always worked. "Jake." I aimed for keeping my voice neutral. "It hasn't been long enough." "Not missing me yet?" "Hardly." "Pity." He sounded amused. "What am I going to have to do to get your respect, pup? Perhaps some time in my dungeon would help your issues with authority." 10


A low, rumbling growl rose from my throat. "Not interested." "You were at one time." His tone was syrupy sweet, but I knew the intent behind the words was nothing but. "I remember a time when you begged: for me, for my touch. You begged me to help you let it all go..." I clenched my eyes tightly, blocking out images of the past, of me in his arms, in his bed—trying to fight my way out of his grip as razor-sharp claws and teeth tore into my flesh. The worst part of the whole ordeal was when he sank those teeth into my throat. As my own hot blood spurted from my neck, I'd come. Come so hard that at that very moment, I hadn't cared whether I lived or died. After it had ended and I realized just what I'd become, I'd prayed for death—had sought it out as if it were the perfect elixir for all my problems. Unfortunately, lycanthropy came with a healthy dose of immortality instead. Death, for me, was like the edge of the horizon that I could see so plainly, but could never seem to reach. "You are a piss-poor source of entertainment, Ethan." I was about to tell him just what I'd find entertaining— which had to do with him and death and excruciating pain— when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and my skin began to tingle. I wasn't alone. I slowly turned in the chair to face the door. A man stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He was completely at ease, just waiting, watching. Light brown hair fell in soft waves down to his shoulders, half of his face and one eye hidden by an almost strategic cascade of bangs. He 11


straightened a little and that cascade of hair fell away, revealing a long, ugly scar from the mid-point of his jaw line, up his cheek, and disappearing into his hairline just above his right ear. He was beautiful without the scar. With the scar, he was still beautiful, but it gave him a more rugged look. Piercing green eyes met mine, the corners crinkling just a little when he smiled. For a moment, all I could do was stare. The man pointed to the phone. "I don't want to interrupt." I looked down at the phone in my hand and shook my head as I pressed the talk button, turning it off. Oh man, was that going to piss Jake off. "You're not. What can I do for you?" My groin tightened, my body knowing exactly what I wanted to do for him. He started toward the desk, but hesitated. "Are you sure? I can come back later." I realized he was looking at the spread of Styrofoam plates and stood, gathering them up to put in the discarded brown paper bag. "Have a seat, please. I'll get this out of the way." The man continued walking, and while I put the last plate in the bag, I tried like hell not to notice the way his denim jeans hugged his thighs and crotch in all the right places. Just before he sat down, he extended a hand. "Noah Weber." My hand slid into his and our eyes met again. The entire world fucking stopped as I opened my mouth to say, 'Nice to meet you, I'm Ethan', and instead said, "What the fuck do you want?" 12


He pulled his hand away and his expression went from friendly to confused. "I'm not sure I follow." "Fucking Jake sent you here to get under my skin in person now, too?" I clenched my hands into fists, body tight, ready for a fight. The man, Noah, bit at his lip. "Actually, I came because I heard that you wouldn't rip me off with a high price and a shoddy job." He studied me for a moment, then started to turn away. "Maybe this was a mistake. I just thought..." I watched him walk back across the trailer, tried to ignore that ass in those tight Wrangler jeans, and realized that whatever he might be, he hadn't been sent by Jake. He was too nice, too sincere. But he was still a ... Aw, fuck. Money was money. I moved around the desk and went after him. "Wait! Don't go." He paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at me over his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I thought you might have been sent by—" "By the jerk on the phone?" "Uh..." I wondered how long he'd been in the room, how much he'd heard of my conversation with Jake. It made me nervous and more than a little uncomfortable. "Yeah." He turned and leaned against the door frame again, arms crossed over his chest. After studying me for a moment or two, he smiled, the gesture reflected genuinely in his eyes. His hand went out to me again. "Maybe we can try this again. I'm Noah." "Ethan." I took his hand, holding on for far longer than necessary, realizing this was the first time I'd been in the 13


same room with another of my kind who wasn't trying to kill me on sight. But then again, give it time. "How can I help you?" "First, I should apologize. This is your space and me just waltzing in here and catching you off guard was a shitty thing for—" "It's an office. Anyone can come and go freely." "Unless you're not quite human," he said with a slight smile. "I know that if it were reversed, I might have been on the defensive, too." That smile drew my gaze to his lips. When his tongue moved across his bottom lip, my eyes followed. I wanted to taste along the path his tongue had just traveled. Just there, at the corner of his mouth, to lick along the curve of that smile. His hand squeezed mine and he began pulling me closer. It was only then I realized that I hadn't let go of him. I wanted to pull away. To not be the bumbling idiot wanting to touch and taste a man—well, mostly—I'd never met until a few minutes before. The only problem was that I couldn't seem to move. Noah took another step, closing the distance between us while pushing me back against the wall. My mind was racing, want and should warring back and forth as all the blood in my body rushed to my dick. Noah buried his face against my neck and instead of pushing him away, all I managed to do was melt in his arms. "You smell so good." His voice was deep and throaty and all I could think of was sex, sex, sex. Here, now—on the floor, over my desk, up against the wall. His breath was hot at my 14


ear, across my jaw. He paused, the tip of his nose brushing mine. "I have to admit, I want a taste, too." I framed his face in my hands and pulled him closer, licking at the corner of his mouth before dragging my tongue across his bottom lip. He tasted of strong coffee and something sugary sweet, yeasty, like pastries. I pushed my tongue between his parted lips and he groaned and sank against me, just managing to brace himself against the wall before his knees buckled. He didn't return the kiss as I'd expected. Instead, he pulled back, looking at me as if he wasn't sure what had happened. It made me throw my defenses up and I started to push him away. "That shouldn't have happened." "Because it's a conflict of interest between you and a client?" His thumb brushed my lips. "Or because you weren't ready to stop?" "I don't even know you!" I pushed away from the wall, but he blocked my path. "And you're not a client." "Well, now, see ... I was working on that whole client part of the deal before you chased me down and started getting all touchy-feely on me." I tried like hell to glare and stare him down, but his grin seemed to be contagious. I managed a smirk and shook my head. "Very funny." "I see you laughing." He laughed and pushed me back against the wall. Before my reflexes even kicked in to slug him, his lips covered mine. A long, chaste kiss led to several longer kisses and then his 15


tongue pushed into my mouth, hard and insistent. It was as if we'd known each other for years instead of minutes. Every part of me responded to his touch, his taste. Part of my brain screamed out in warning for me to stop, but each and every warning was silenced by a greater need for more. In moments, we were on the floor, kissing and touching and rubbing. Noah fumbled with the button and zipper of my jeans, rising up off me just enough to push my pants down to my thighs. Jean-clad legs bracketing my own bare ones, he leaned back in and pushed my shirt up, tucking it behind my head. I reached for his shirt, put he shook his head and grasped my wrists, pushing my arms down to my sides. He licked at my lips, down my throat, and began working in a downward trail. His tongue rasped against one nipple, then the other, and then he began licking a long, straight line down the middle of my belly. Straining my head up, I watched as he tortured me with his tongue. When he got to the base of my cock, he stopped and glanced up at me. "You want me to stop?" I shook my head, searching for words. "Tell me, then." "What?" "What do you want me to do next?" My hips pretty much answered for me, arching up, seeking him out. He grinned and acted like he was about to flick his tongue along my length, but then he stopped. 16


"Tell me, Ethan." His warm breath washed over me with each word. "What do you want me to do next?" I arched my hips up deliberately, hand sliding down and grasping my cock, stroking until a bead of precome leaked from the tip. "Suck me, Noah. Give me your mouth." He wrapped a hand around mine and stroked up and down with me, eyes never leaving mine as his tongue darted out and licked the clear drops away. My free hand found his head, fingers tangling in soft, brown hair. He pushed my other hand away and took me into his mouth, slowly swallowing me down until his nose was buried in my pubic hair. Noah inhaled deeply and groaned, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my cock and up my spine. He began to move up and down, lips and tongue teasing and playing. His teeth closed lightly around the base of my cock and on the next movement up, he scraped his teeth along the entire length of my shaft and nipped lightly at the crown. I nearly screamed, hips bucking up hard. He pulled back, taking me in his hand, licking me in the most obscene ways before he tongued at my slit. My head hit the floor, eyes clenching, belly going tight. "Fuck..." "On the first date? Not usually." I grabbed at his shirt and pulled him up for a kiss, hands slipping between us to unfasten his jeans. Getting them undone was easy, but getting them down was next to impossible while locked in a kiss. He buried his face into my neck, sucking and licking as he helped push his jeans down. 17


He yanked his T-shirt up and only then did he settle down over me. His mouth found mine again just as his cock slid over mine. I'd never felt anything so fucking good. Noah's tongue pushed into my mouth, searching, wanting. Soon, we were rocking and pushing, holding each other tight, cocks sliding back and forth. Noah whimpered, parted lips just resting against mine as his thrusts began to speed. "Feel so good, Ethan." "Don't stop," I groaned. "Just..." "You're my exception—first date, every date." He panted and gasped, sounding as if he was so close to coming. His hands bracketed my face, eyes meeting mine for a few brief seconds before clenching tight. "Oh, God ... I want to feel you come, Ethan." My hands moved to his ass, pushing up hard and fast, holding him against me. Fire shot down my spine, balls drawing tight. His weight shifted just slightly and it pushed me over the edge. Back bowed and body taut, heat spread between us. I gasped and moaned and sought him out for a kiss, needing to taste him. "Come on, Noah." I bit hard at his bottom lip. "On me. All over me." Noah jerked hard and came, his heat adding to my own. He relaxed a little, but held himself up on his elbows on either side of my head. He smiled down at me, eyes shining. "Very nice to meet you, Ethan." I poked him in the ribs, laughing. "Likewise." "Now, about me becoming a client..." 18


**** Noah and I cleaned up in my private bathroom, but when I brushed against him while reaching for a towel, things had sparked again. I managed to get out the door, but not before he grabbed me by the back of my neck and kissed me again. After I regained my senses, I backed out the door and shut it behind me. "Be out in a sec," Noah called out. I scrubbed my hands over my face and made my way to my desk. I didn't sit in my chair, just leaned against the front of the desk, waiting. After a few minutes, I heard the water shut off and a pleased hum from Noah as he began tucking himself back into his clothes. Before Noah came out of the bathroom, though, the front door opened and Beth walked in. She took one look at me and raised a brow. "Everything okay with—" "Damn," I heard Noah say as the door opened. I bit my lip hard, hoping that when he walked into the room, he was fully clothed. "I haven't come that hard ... ever." Beth looked at me in shock and I rubbed at the back of my neck, grimacing. Noah exited the small hallway and when he saw Beth, he came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had..." "Uh-huh." Beth scoffed. Noah looked so miserable at having said anything that I knew he'd not been paying attention to anything other than how good he was feeling. I met his eyes and smiled, wanting him to know that it'd be okay. That whatever the fuck had 19


happened between us was all good. He studied me for a few seconds, and then continued into the room. "Beth, honey, meet Noah. Noah, meet Beth." Noah extended his hand politely. "Nice to meet you." Beth stared at Noah's hand, frowned, then looked back at me. "I was just going to tell you that I'd given some guy at the diner your name a few days ago, but I see that he's already found you." "I should go," Noah said. "Uh-huh," Beth agreed. "Don't go." I grumbled and glared at Beth. "Could you be any more of a bitch right now?" "Probably." She shrugged and stalked toward the door. "Call me when the blood returns to your brain. God knows you've lost your fucking mind." Noah started to come closer but stopped after only a few steps. "Please tell me she's not a girlfriend or fiancé or—" "No! She's just a friend." "Really?" He closed the distance between us and worked his way to stand between my legs. "Does she know that?" "Of course she does." "Hmm. Maybe she needs to be reminded of that." His hands curled around my hips and he tugged me away from the desk and up against him. "She's totally in love with you." "Totally?" "Mmmhmm," he murmured as his lips found mine again. As much as I hated to, I pushed him back. "What did you come here for, Noah?" 20


"I really do need someone to do some repairs. I've been managing on my own for a while, but I think I might have been making things worse instead of better." It was awkward, talking to him like this. If we were going to do business, I could at least pretend that it wasn't any problem keeping my hands off him. I edged around the desk, but pointed to the chair on the other side. "Okay then, tell me what you've got." I sat down in the chair and grabbed a notepad and pencil. "Construction or repair?" He sat across from me, but leaned on the desk with his elbows. "A little of both, actually. We're wanting to upgrade our doors and windows to make things more efficient, but we're also wanting to put in a solar cell system." "Solar isn't all that efficient, cost-wise." "Oh, I know. But we've been left too many times without any power at all when a blizzard has come through or the lines have iced over." "So, you don't want to do away with electric in favor of the solar?" He shook his head. "That would be stupid, considering just how much it cost us to get it up there in the first place. Plus, I do like the finer things in life. I have no interest in trading my restaurant class refrigerator for a tiny thing I can barely fit a twelve-pack into." I nodded and started scribbling up a few notes. "Are you aware of how much a solar cell system costs to install and maintain?" "I do." He grinned. "And trust me, cost isn't an issue." 21


"Okay..." I pulled a calculator close and glanced at him. "How big is your place?" "Huge." "Come on, Noah." "Sorry. I'd say it's right at around ten-thousand square feet, not including the garages." I blinked. "Ten—" "Thousand." His eyes glittered. "Tell me you have to see it in order to give me a price on it all." "Actually, I do, but—" "Great. So, get your work things together so you'll be able to do all the calculations, pack you a bag, and we'll get going." "It's not that simple," I said. "Even if I can do the job—and I'm not saying I will—my crews are tied up on other jobs that take priority." "That's another thing," Noah said with a little hesitation. "You would do this job without a crew." "It's impossible for me to do that size of a job on my own." "You won't be doing it alone." He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "We can't risk the exposure, Ethan. I'm sure you understand this." I shook my head. "No, not really." "Pack a bag and come with me. Let me show you instead of sitting here and explaining it all to you, only for you to tell me no." "You do realize that you're looking at nearly half a million for supplies and labor..." "If you do the job, I'll double it." 22


"I don't know, Noah." "I'll double it and add in payment for a full crew." "But I won't have a crew. I can't accept payment for—" "Please don't make me find a human to do this. I don't think I could live with what would have to happen once the job was done." While I'd never been involved with a pack—other than the threats from Jake—I knew that they tended to protect their own in whatever way they felt necessary. If that meant eliminating a person who posed a threat to them or their wellbeing, then that was a sacrifice they were willing to make. But could I deal with being around so many werewolves at one time? Noah was one thing. I felt this weird sense of familiarity with him that I'd never felt with anyone else before. An entire pack might be more than I could handle. And then there was the money. If I did this job, it would pay everyone on my entire crew a monthly salary through the winter and well into the spring. It was truly an offer I couldn't afford to pass up. I sat back in my chair and sighed, the pros far outweighing the cons. "I'm not making any promises." **** I excused myself from Noah and told him I'd be right back. I went into one of the back rooms and opened up a spare closet. For a moment I just stared at the overnight bag at the foot of the closet. What the hell was I doing? Not just the overnight trip to give an estimate on a job, but with Noah, too. Red flags and warning bells should have 23


been going off from the moment Noah had stepped foot onto the property. It was too simple with him, too easy. From my experience, easy meant trouble. And I'd had enough trouble in the last two years. I'd managed to avoid any others of my kind for nearly a year now, except for the random calls and gifts from Jake. The gifts weren't exactly gifts either. Most of the time they were pieces and parts of dead things—sometimes human, sometimes not—left in the oddest of places so that I was always guaranteed to find them. The worse was a human penis stuffed down inside a container of leftovers. Bile rose in my throat at the memory. This was such a mistake. No matter how easy things seemed with Noah, it was wrong. This whole situation was wrong and I just needed to back the hell out and... Noah's arms slid around my waist and he rested his chin on my shoulder. "I think the clothes are supposed to go inside the bag." "I'm not going." My words were whispered, even though I hadn't meant them to be. "You'll ... I ... Find someone else, Noah." "No." He hugged me tight against him, and I could feel him shaking his head. "No, no, no ... Don't do this, Ethan. Please, just give it a chance. I promise it's safe." Safe. Dread crept into my gut. "Why would you say that? Why would it be anything other than—" "Jake's done a number on you." 24


At the mention of his name, I froze. "I never mentioned him. Not by name." "Yes, you did. When you thought he sent me." He kissed just below my ear, sighing, warm breath making me shudder. "Did you think that I would hire just anyone to work at the compound without doing a bit of investigating first?" I shrugged. "People do it all the time." "That's my home—my safe and sacred place. Humans pose a bit of a problem, in that regard. They come and go and they talk about the huge mansion nestled high up in the mountains. Soon, others want to see it for themselves because it seems so very unlikely that far out of the way. And suddenly there's traffic where there once was none, all because someone couldn't keep quiet. Because they couldn't understand the most primal need for privacy." "How many have you killed for that?" "Does it matter?" For some reason, it did. A lot. I nodded, but couldn't bring myself to say the actual words. Noah dropped his arms from around my waist, but instead of backing away, he took my hands, threaded his fingers through mine and brought both our arms around me again. He was silent for a few minutes, then sighed. "One. One human kill in the twelve years that I've been..." He paused as if searching for a word. "...as I am." "Just one?" "Just one," he said. "Six years ago, we hired someone to fix the chimneys. The brick was old and crumbling and 25


burning the fireplaces had become more dangerous than we wanted to chance. The guy was always snooping, you know? Always in places where there were no fireplaces. I let it go and let it go, but never let my guard down. When the job was finally finished, I was more than relieved. He collected his pay and left." "But that wasn't the end of it?" "About two weeks later, we were having a pack meeting. I got pissy with something someone said and went outside to cool off. While I'm standing there fuming, arguing with my wolf on whether I wanted to shift and run off my anger—I catch a scent of an intruder on the breeze. An intruder I more than recognized. "It was after midnight. Far too late to be doing anything other than snooping. I located him and confronted him, not knowing or really caring what all he'd seen. He put up façade of being the big, tough guy—like he wasn't scared—but fear just oozed from each and every pore. And the more that acrid stank wafted off him, the more threatened I felt. But I still wasn't ready to kill him for it. That is, until he reached for a gun and a camera with a night-vision lens fell out instead." "Damn." Noah nodded and kept going. "That sealed his death warrant. It was a threat I couldn't ignore. He wasn't only a threat to me, but to the entire pack." I nodded myself in understanding. If the human population suddenly found out that werewolves walked among them, chaos would ensue. But something lingered in the back of my 26


mind; something I knew was wrong to ask, to even suggest, but I had to know. "Did you ... eat him?" He laughed and hugged me even tighter, not backing away like I thought he would. "I have no desire for human flesh. A little blood with sex? Oh, fuck yes. But I don't eat people." The mere mention of sex sent blood rushing to my dick. "Is the rest of your pack like you?" "They're probably way too uptight to enjoy a little blood with their sex." I elbowed him in the gut. "I'm serious." "We're a touchy-feely bunch. We like to eat, to laugh, to be together when we can. We also fight like crazy and get pissy when we've been together too long." He paused and turned me to face him. "We shift and we hunt, but we don't eat people." "I didn't mean to offend you." "Oh, no." He stepped closer and caught my face between his hands. "It takes much more than that to offend me." In that moment, I would have gone anywhere, done anything, just to be with him. He was so sincere, so real. But that still didn't change one important fact: I didn't know him. So why was I so comfortable with him? And why did I feel like this was so much more than a case of instant lust? "I don't even know you, Noah." I chewed at my bottom lip, trying like hell to figure out what I was going to do. "Don't know what happened between us—" "What's happening between us," he corrected. 27


I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, almost whimpering as his scent filled me. Earthy, fresh, and clean, with a hint of spice that I couldn't quite pinpoint—there wasn't a hint of cologne. I knew, without a doubt, that I could find him anywhere. That I could seek him out by his scent alone. My heart raced, sending little tingles of adrenaline through me. "Look at me, Ethan." When I opened my eyes, our gazes locked. He leaned in closer, our noses brushing lightly, lips so close I could feel each and every breath he exhaled. "I want you to do the job. But even if you decide you can't or won't, for whatever reason, I still want to see you." "Noah, I—" I started to tell him that it would never work, that this was all moving way too fast for me, but he silenced me with a kiss. Any protest I had in mind quickly disappeared. In fact, I found myself with arms wrapped around his waist, hands sliding down to cup his ass and pull him against me. A low, rumbling growl was the only warning before Noah grabbed me up and carried me to the small, twin-sized bed in the far corner. As soon as my back hit the mattress, he let me go just long enough to push my shirt up and off and get my jeans unfastened and pulled down past my knees. Instead of bothering with my boots, he lifted my legs over his head. Jeans still caught around my ankles, I worked my legs down around his hips and yanked him toward me. He caught himself from falling with one hand against the bed. His other hand was furiously working at his jeans and when he got them undone, he stretched up and bit at my 28


lower lip, shoving his pants down at the same time. I shifted and pulled us closer together, groaning when the heat of him pressed against my ass. For a few moments, he just sort of rubbed against me, alternating with kissing me and watching me—as if waiting for me to say no. I should have been saying no, shouldn't have been lying there instead with my feet in the air, ass bared and waiting for him to fuck me. But 'no' wasn't one of the words coming out in panted whispers and pleas. Aggravated that he wasn't buried inside me yet, I shifted and yanked him hard with a pull of my legs. "Stop teasing, Noah." Finally, he reached between us and pressed the head of his dick against my hole. "You have anything? Need anything?" "You. Inside me." And as he started pushing into me, I remembered just how long it'd been. And just who had fucked me last. Or maybe that should have been what. That very last time over the course of those two days—Jake had been fully shifted. Memories of the pain and the fear flooded my thoughts and by the time Noah slid home, I was covered in sweat and shaking. Noah paused, a look of horror settling on his face. "Oh God, I didn't mean to—" "No, I just..." I clenched my eyes tightly, as if that would make the memories of Jake go away. "I haven't ... Haven't been with anyone since I was..." "Since Jake." His words were a statement, not a question. All I could manage was a nod. 29


Instead of pulling away, like I thought he would, he sank down against me. "And it's all coming back to you?" "I'm sorry," I said softly, shifting my legs a little. "This ... wasn't quite how I imagined this working out." He laughed and the subtle movement made his cock bump just the right spot. I gasped out in surprise, hands clutching at Noah's arms. He took one of my hands and put it to his lips, kissing from my palm to the tips of my fingers before sucking two fingers into his mouth. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, watching, feeling, the pain and fear only a short time before giving way to a something so totally new and unfamiliar. After a few minutes of him teasing and sucking at my fingers, he pulled my fingers from his mouth and pushed my hand between us, guiding me to touch at my hole where he still filled me. He moved my fingers to the base of his shaft, then back and forth along the stretched skin. I soon found myself rocking against him, rubbing my fingers harder and harder where we were joined. "Look at me, Ethan." But I was afraid to. Afraid that if I opened my eyes, Noah's face wasn't the one I'd see. Teeth closed around my left nipple, just hard enough to take my breath away, but then that brief pain was soothed by a mix of licks, sucks, and kisses. Another bite came and I lifted my head, gasping. "Damn it, Noah!" He just smiled. "I want you looking at me." "I am looking at you." 30


"Keep looking at me." He pulled back a little, and then pushed back inside me. "I want you to see that it's me inside you, me making you feel so good." Noah was so far away from being anything like Jake. I knew in my gut that if I asked Noah to stop—for whatever reason—he would. Jake wouldn't have given a shit. I slid my hand lower, fingers teasing his balls. His head fell to my shoulder and he moaned, pulling out just as bit as he tried to push back into my touch. I tightened my legs around his hips and pulled him in, ass clamping down around him. "Christ, don't do that." He bit hard at his lip. "I'll fucking come before we ever get started." "Then you better hurry." I pulled my hand from between us and grabbed at his ass, fingers slipping down his crack. "Oh no!" He shuddered and grabbed both of my hands, pinning them above my head. "That's not playing fair." "I'm all about fair." I strained up and licked at his throat before nipping him hard. "I want you." "Got me." "Fuck me, Noah." He stared down at me for about half a second before pushing hard and deep. He pegged my gland on that first thrust and on every single one that followed. I could do nothing but pant and grunt and shove my ass up to meet him each time. His mouth found mine, tongue pushing between my lips, hard and insistent. I sucked his tongue into my mouth and his grip on my hands faltered. I immediately slid my hands between us, fingers finding his nipples, twisting and pulling. He nearly 31


screamed into the kiss and slid his own hand between us, fisting my cock. That sent me flying right over the edge and I exploded, ass clamping down, come coating his fingers. "Oh, fuck ... Ethan." He started to pull out, but I shook my head, holding him close. "In me. Want to feel you come." Noah groaned and shoved deep, filling me with his heat. I swallowed down each and every moan and cry through the kiss. He finally sank down against me, burying his face into my neck. The labored breaths against my neck made me shudder, but not wanting him to think I was ready to move, I held him tight. I wasn't sure what this was, but I knew one thing for sure: this wasn't a case of instant lust. Admitting that to myself was one thing. Admitting it to Noah? Well, I wasn't sure I was ready to go that far. Yet. Noah's stomach growled, long and loud, and he laughed. "You want to head over to the Mexican food place across the river and have some dinner before we leave town?" "I think we got this backward, Noah. Aren't we supposed to have dinner before we fuck?" He raised his head and grinned. "See, it's that whole 'have dessert before dinner' thing." I raised a brow. "I'm not sure I follow." "Well, if I die during dinner, I'll have missed out on dessert and will leave this world still wanting and unhappy." He brushed his lips against mine, teasing. "This way, if I die 32


during dinner? I'll have had everything I needed to make me happy and send me on my way." "Oh, you are such a suck up." "You start talking sucking and I'm going to die of starvation." I rolled my eyes and pushed at him. "Get us untangled and I'll buy dinner." **** After several rounds of chips and salsa and a few different appetizers, we'd stuffed ourselves on grilled fajitas and roasted red peppers. And as if that hadn't been enough, Noah ordered us coffee and sopapillas. Dripping honey had proved to be more than interesting and oh-so-dangerous in a public place. One of the waiters had actually stepped in front of our table and cleared his throat, whispering that we were drawing stares. I had a feeling that Noah hadn't really cared, one way or the other, but I was so embarrassed I asked for the check. The drive was silent as we headed out of town. As hard as I tried to find a reason to tell him to turn the Jeep around, I kept coming up empty. The truth of it all was that, as much as I didn't want to believe it myself, I wanted to be with him. I liked his company. Liked him. When we turned off onto highway 84 just outside of Pagosa Springs, Noah reached over and squeezed my hand. "I'm not turning back." "I don't want you to." 33


"Good. I guess that means we're making progress." He let go of my hand and shifted in the driver's seat. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. "The rest of the pack isn't at the house yet. A couple of them will be coming in later this evening, the rest should be in by the weekend." "Okay," I said slowly, not sure why he was telling me this. "Mack is there, though. He may not be friendly, at first. It's nothing personal, just the way he is." "He's Alpha of the pack?" Noah nodded. "He's protective. Wants the pack to be safe, you know?" My experience with anything pack had never been good. I got the general idea that Jake was protective of his pack, but I think it had more to do with him losing something that he considered his than with the safety of his pack members. There was no doubt in my mind that he thought of me as his. "I have to admit, I know next to nothing about packs and all of that. I've spent so much time trying to get away from Jack and anything having to do with his pack, that I've not learned much." "You haven't really wanted to either." His words weren't accusing, but they seemed awfully close. "Have you? I mean, the way you were ... I'm sorry, it's none of my business." "No, no," I said. "Say what you were going to say." He sighed and shook his head. "The way we're turned isn't exactly pleasant. If you don't have someone there who can hold your hand and walk you through it and let you know that it's going to be okay—it can be hard. Really hard." 34


"No shit." I shifted away from him and toward my door, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm not sure I'd wish that on my worst enemy." "I'm sorry, Ethan." I shrugged, leaning my head against the cool window. "Not your fault." "Oh, I don't know about that," he said softly. His words didn't make any sense, but I wasn't in the mood to break down our conversation. I didn't like talking about what I was, but I sure as hell didn't like talking about how it had happened. For the next few miles, I closed my eyes and tried to let the up and down and curve of the road put me at ease. It had just begun to work when Noah stepped on the brake and slowed before putting on the blinker. As he waited for a truck to pass, I noticed the name of the road and frowned. "What are we doing here?" "What do you mean?" "I mean," I said, pointing to the road sign, "there is nothing here. Buckles Lake Road is nothing but an old logging road." "To most, it is." "Noah, don't fuck with me." "Don't tell me you're doubting me now." He turned onto the road and only drove a few yards before slamming on the break. "Do you honestly think that—" "Goddamn it, Noah! I don't know what to think, okay?" I sat back, running my hands through my hair in frustration. 35


"Today is the first time I've ever been around someone like me that wasn't trying to kill me." "I wouldn't do that to you." "And tell me why I'm supposed to just take your word for that? Why am I supposed to abandon everything I've ever learned about this world just because you seem like a nice guy?" Noah's jaw tightened. "That's what you think about me? That I'm a nice guy? Gee ... thanks." "From my experience? Too nice." He put the Jeep in park and sat back in his seat, staring out at the dirt road before us. Tension was thick in the air, but beneath that there was something else—an air of dejection that had become more and more familiar to me in recent years. It was only then that I realized how what I'd said might have sounded to him. That I thought he was too nice, therefore up to something. Maybe all the shit with Jake had done more damage to my head than I thought. Before I could even begin to form some sort of apology, Noah spoke. "I have no doubt that what happened to you was fucking awful." He paused and took a deep breath, but didn't look over at me. "But please don't ever think that I've got some ulterior motive in anything I do or say." "I didn't mean—" "I never make a promise I'm not absolutely sure I can keep. If I say I'll do something, it would take an act of God or nature to stop me from doing it." He finally looked over at me. "And I never say anything I don't mean." 36


"I don't know anyone like that." "I'm as straight up as they come. Everything I've done and said since I walked through your door has been straight from the heart." He leaned over the console and caught my face between his hands. "So, if I were to tell you that I'm already falling hard for you..." The feelings were all so new to me, but there was no way that I was just going sit back and let him open himself up to me and then be an asshole and not be honest in return. Truth was, in the hours since we'd met, I'd never felt that we were mere strangers. "I'd say that it all seems too fast and part of me says we should slow down." One of his hands moved to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand traveled down my chest and stopped at my crotch. He rubbed the heel of his hand back and forth over my dick through the material of my jeans. "And what does the other part of you say?" I brought his teasing hand back up to my chest. "This part of me says that slow is over-rated and I just need to go with my gut instinct." "You can trust me, Ethan. I can promise you that." At my nod, Noah shifted and sat back in his seat. He put the Jeep in gear and we started ahead on the dirt road. I slid a little more toward the console, avoiding the door. I hated this road. I'd been up it looking for a hiking trail when I first moved into the area. Problem was, it was nothing but an old logging road and wasn't really kept up in any way. 37


It wasn't so bad near the bottom of the mountain. But the further up you went, the road curved and twisted up the mountain and there were no guardrails to stop you if the vehicle started to slide in the dirt or if you caught a curve a little too wide. The drops were steep and sudden and just looking out the window at the trees and rocks below could give me a severe case of vertigo. "You okay?" Noah asked after a while. "Mmmhmm." "Don't like heights?" I shook my head just slightly, not wanting to rock the Jeep any at all. Now, we were so high up that the trees had gotten thicker along the side of the road. The only problem was that the parts of the trees we were seeing were the top branches. In my opinion, trees were to be gazed up at, not gazed down upon. "We'll even out soon; we're just about to the cow pens." "Yeah, but it doesn't stay evened out," I said. "Ethan, honey, I can drive this road with my eyes closed." "Oh, please don't." My grip on the seat and console tightened as he took a sharp curve. I soon decided it was better to just close my eyes until he stopped driving. It all worked fine until Ethan stepped on the break and said, "Uh oh." My eyes flew open. "What? What's wrong?" "Cows." He pointed ahead and honked his horn. I looked out to see four cows blocking the road. But they didn't seem concerned 38


with us at all, just gave us a bored glance. Noah put the Jeep in park and put on the emergency brake. "Just sit tight." Noah got out and I watched as he herded the cows back past the Jeep in only a matter of minutes. He slid into the driver's seat and leaned over and kissed me. "Almost there," he said. "But this next part is going to be a little rough." "How rough?" "We're leaving the main road so it'll be a little steep and a lot of rough." I frowned. "Noah? Can I ask how you plan to get all of the building materials up here? I mean, this road isn't really built for pulling a trailer up." "Sure it is," he laughed. "What do you think the logging companies used when they were working out of here?" "Well, I—" "You just worry about ordering it and making sure we have enough material and I will get it to the house." He squeezed my hand, and then put the Jeep in gear. "Trust me." Trust him. Right. **** Noah hadn't been kidding. Steep and rough were putting it lightly. I think I might have left permanent hand marks where I'd gripped the console, the door, the dashboard. When we pulled up in front of the house, however, all thoughts of the 39


road quickly vanished. I got out, as did Noah, but reached back inside for a pencil and notepad. The house was absolutely beautiful, set out in the middle of a flat, open area. The roof was all metal, but had been painted a dark green, presumably to blend with the surrounding trees. The flat rock exterior was a mix of grays and greens, colors I had never seen used on a house before. A covered porch went around the house for as far as I could see, but the more I studied the house, the more I scratched at my head. The place couldn't have been more than five-thousand square feet. "Didn't you tell me the place was around ten thousand square feet?" "It is." Noah grinned. "Let me show you around." The front door opened as we neared the house. A man stepped out onto the porch, arms crossed over his chest. The look in his eyes was hard and unfriendly and I found myself unable to look him in the eyes. Noah's hand closed around mine. "Ethan, this is Mack." Noah didn't so much gesture to me as he did just sort of tug at my hand. "Mack, this is Ethan. He's going to be getting us some figures together and maybe doing some work around here." I offered my free hand and smiled, but Mack just stood there, unmoving. I dropped my hand, cleared my throat. "Nice to meet you." Mack grunted and looked over at Noah. "This the best you could do?" Oh, this was going to be so much fun. 40


Noah stuck his tongue out at Mack. "Do you have to be such a prick?" Mack heaved a sigh and instead of lashing out at Noah, as I'd expected, he just shook his head. Noah grabbed my hand before anything more could be said and practically dragged me around the east side of the house. On that side was a large garage set off from the house. Noah gestured at the garage. "A place for you to work." "I'm not—" "I know, I know. No promises." We continued on until we reached a set of French doors. Noah opened one for me and waited until I went in before following. I entered into a small den area. The room was sparsely decorated with only a couch and a few chairs, but seemed cozy enough. There was a bar on the opposite wall and a fireplace at the north end of the room. Noah moved up behind me and kissed the back of my neck and urged me to walk with him. He led me to what seemed like a hallway on first look, but turned out to be a staircase leading down to another level. I took one look at the lower level and shook my head. "My God, how—?" Noah winked. "Like it?" I couldn't imagine how the house had been built with a lower level as exquisite as this. Most of the time lower levels were nothing but basement areas. Sometimes people took the pains to finish them out, but without pumps and 41


dehumidifiers and all the things needed to keep the area dry, most people didn't bother. But this house was damn near at the top of a mountain, nearly nine thousand feet up in altitude. It wasn't the drainage and humidity that would pose the biggest problem— it was the rock. "I take that look of shock on your face as a yes." I nodded. "I'm just wondering how." "Well, the house was here before I was, so I can't give you a definite answer on that one." Noah bumped my shoulder with his. "But Mack was an explosives expert back in his day. Pretty sure he had friends in all the right places." "It looks like it." "The house is pretty much just a big rectangle. The top and bottom levels are equal in size and shape, except for the ceiling height. Bottom, of course, is just a little lower." "What about utilities? Water, heat, electric panel? Show me where everything is and tell me how it works?" "You bet." As we walked, Noah showed me where everything was located on the lower level and explained to me about how their water system worked, where the water supply was fed from and how it was purified. I made notes and took a few measurements, doing a few basic calculations. Once we made it back to the stairs, Noah walked past me and leaned against the railing. "So. What do you think?" "I'll have to build a shelter for the battery cells up on the first level. They need to be kept out of the elements, but they also need to have a good way to ventilate." 42


Noah chewed at his lip. "That mean you'll do it?" "Might as well," I said with a smile. "I'd hate to break your heart by saying no." He closed the distance between us and threw his arms around my shoulders, stealing a kiss. "And it would have, too. I'd have been crushed." I pocketed my notepad and pencil and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him against me. "Now's your chance to have second thoughts. If you're not sure you want me around—" "Shut up." "I'm just saying..." "You'll be lucky to have a moment's peace the entire time you're here." Noah's eyes widened and he pulled away, grabbing my hand. "I forgot! There's something else I wanted." "I'm almost afraid to ask." I let him tug me up the stairs and out the French doors again. He led me off the porch and we stopped after only a few steps. Gesturing in a wide circle, he grinned. "I ordered a hot tub a couple of weeks ago. I'd really, really like something to enclose it in. I'd thought about a steam room, but figured that the heat of the water would create steam anyway and I'd get a close second." I walked the area and thought on it for a moment. "You know, I think it'd be cheaper with a kit build." "The price isn't an issue." "Okay, let me try a different angle here," I said. "A kit would not only be cheaper, it would also go up more quickly 43


and would be easier for me to do on my own or with a little help from you." "You know I'll help." I couldn't stop my grin. "Great. The guy that also told me he did more damage than good in keeping this place running is going to help me." "I knew you'd love that." One of the French doors opened and a woman stepped out. She was short and thin with graying black hair swept up in a claw clip. Her eyes were dark and kind and there was a friendly smile on her face. "Noah, Doug and Teresa are on their way up." Noah looked at his watch. "Damn. They're early for once." The woman nodded and started to step back inside, but Noah called after her. "Wait a minute, Grace." "Yes?" She paused and looked back. Noah pulled me along with him. "Ethan, this is Grace. She does the awesome cooking around here, keeps us fed." I extended my hand. "Nice to meet you, Grace." "And it's nice to meet you, Ethan. Is there anything special you like to eat?" "No, ma'am. I just like to eat." Grace winked. "You'll fit in just fine, then." The sound of a car on the other side of the house drew our attention. Grace excused herself to make tea and Noah led me back around the side of the house. I wondered why we didn't just go through and out the front door, but he pushed me up against the wall just before we rounded the corner at the front. 44


"They're likely to be as friendly as Mack was," he said, hands framing my face. "Except they get mean and pick fights." "Oh, that's nice to know." "You've got me, though. Hopefully that'll make up for it." I pressed my forehead to his, eyes closing as his scent invaded my senses. "Just don't feed me to the wolves, okay?" He tried to push me back so he could see my face, but I just leaned into him even more, avoiding meeting his eyes. He finally relented and pulled me close, lips pressed to my ear. "My pack means the world to me, Ethan. But if I had to choose ... it would be you." "You don't even know me." "I do know you." He did push me back then, eyes flashing, palm pressing hard at my chest just over my heart. "Right here, where it counts. God, Ethan, why can't you just accept that?" "Part of me does. Part of me just doesn't understand." "And therein lies your problem, Ethan. You're constantly fighting your instincts, even when you're trying not to." He stepped back and smiled, but the smile was far from the excited one he'd been wearing for most of the day. "I guess it'll just take time." He started to walk away, but I just couldn't leave it at that. It didn't seem like it was good enough. For him, I wanted to try. I caught his arm and met his eyes when he looked up at me. "I promise to try to stop fighting so much."

45


"That works for me." Noah smiled and locked his fingers with mine. "Come on, I want to introduce you to Doug and Teresa before dinner." We walked hand-in-hand around the front of the house. A man and woman were just walking up onto the porch, talking amongst themselves. The man seemed rather short, but what he lacked in height, he'd gained in muscle. He had short blonde hair and was somewhat good looking, but his features were so plain that his face was one that I could easily forget over time. The woman was tall and curvy and pretty in that old Hollywood sort of way. There was a coldness in her expression that immediately turned me off, though. I knew that she was one person I'd rather not have to deal with on a regular basis. The man and woman stopped talking as Noah and I took the steps. Noah let go of me to hug them both, but I wondered if he felt the distance that I saw projected by them. If he did, he didn't seem too bothered by it. "Doug, Teresa." He gestured toward me. "I'd like you to meet Ethan. He's going to be doing some work around here and he's a good friend of—" "Surely you're not introducing me the help, Noah." Teresa scoffed and turned on her heel toward the front door. "I have bags in the car." Doug smiled and I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you." But Doug just nodded and followed after Teresa. I let my hand fall and sighed, shaking my head. "I sure hope they like you more than they like me." 46


**** After dinner as guest to a bunch of cold-shouldered people, I'd gone to the guest room that Grace had prepared for me. Noah had some pack business to tend to, so I went to my room alone. I'd dozed off as soon as I'd gotten out of the shower, but something had woken me and I'd not been able to go back to sleep. The quiet sounds of the house—some people sleeping and others wandering the premises—made me more than a little uncomfortable. The light of the moon shining through the parted window curtains irritated me, too. I was used to sleeping in a room without windows and pitch-black darkness. I grabbed the comforter up around me and turned over. Facing this way, though, I got the bright red glare from the alarm clock. I turned on my belly and buried my face into the pillow. After a long while of shifting and cursing, I rolled over and threw the comforter off. I sat up on the edge of the bed and considered grabbing a pillow and the comforter and taking them to the bathroom. But there was a window there, too. This house was full of them. I got up and walked over to one of the wide windows, bracing myself against the sill. Something fluttered in a tree nearby and I looked up just as a hawk settled on a branch. I followed its gaze to find a mouse scurrying across the ground. Part of me wanted the chase and the thrill—the other part of me fought it desperately. But now, my skin itched like hell and it was only a matter of time before I shifted. I clenched my fists in frustration. 47


Fuck. The first few weeks after my attack, I'd tried like hell to stop the shifts, and eventually, to just control the frequency. But nothing ever worked. I soon realized that it was like trying to control the weather. So I stopped fighting the shifts and let them come. But shifting was one thing. Hunting was another. I'd hunted five times in two years. Every time I'd woken up naked beside some slaughtered, half-eaten animal. When I learned that I could lock myself up for the duration of my shift, the hunting had stopped. My wolf hadn't liked that. I turned my attention back to the hawk just as he made a dive from the tree toward the ground. He came up short and as his feet hit the ground he danced and pranced and pecked as if he'd caught his prey. The hawk paused and surveyed the area around him before picking up its meal and taking flight. I watched until the hawk landed in the crook of a tree branch before sighing and looking away. It was tempting to move to the other window, but the view was blocked by large, thick bushes. I glanced at the door and considered going downstairs for a walk. But that didn't seem right. Was it wrong for guests to roam their host's property at one in the morning? I went back to the windows and looked out again, a small, pitiful whine coming from somewhere deep. Before long, I was pacing the floor between the windows and the door, contemplating whether it would be rude to make myself at home and go for a walk. 48


Finally, I stopped at the main window and leaned on the sill, resting my forehead against the glass. If I shifted now, I would hunt. There would be no way I could stop myself—my wolf, at least—from taking off and finding prey. Damn it. This was not what I needed. "How long has it been since you hunted?" Noah's voice was soft and husky from sleep, sounding even more incredibly sexy than usual. I hadn't heard him come in, didn't know how long he'd been there. I couldn't seem to force myself to turn and face him, though. Letting him this far in was just too much, but it didn't stop me from answering him. "Too long." "Why is that?" His hands slid around my waist, chest pressing against my back as he placed a kiss at the back of my neck. Heat radiated off him and I couldn't seem to stop myself from leaning back. His kiss moved from the back to the side of my neck and I shivered, goosebumps spreading over my entire body. "Didn't like waking up next to whatever I'd killed." "Why would you ever do that?" I shrugged and reached back only to find that he was naked. "I don't want to talk about it." Noah made a grunt of disapproval, but slid one of his hands low against my belly. His fingers teased the line of hair at my navel, slowly moving lower. My hips arched up instinctively, seeking out his touch. When his fingers brushed 49


the base of my cock, I pressed my hand over his and pushed it lower. He rubbed the heel of his hand down the length of my shaft, then made a fist, stroking down, then up, pausing to squeeze the head of my cock between his thumb and index finger. My knees buckled and I had to brace myself on the window ledge. "Like that?" At my nod, his hand began moving again. "Whatever the reason you haven't been hunting—" "Noah..." "Shh, let me finish." He scraped his teeth along my shoulder, then bit down, stealing my breath. "You're going to have to break down and just do it. You know that, don't you?" "It scares me, Noah ... My wolf, hunting..." I shuddered as he drew his tongue across the back of my neck. "Afraid of hurting someone. Of what I'll wake up next to in the morning." "But he wants to hunt, doesn't he? Just watching the hawk hunt has drawn him to the surface." "I don't know how to hunt." Noah froze. "No one took you out hunting with the pack after you were turned?" I shook my head. "I can help you ... if you'll let me." I'd managed to avoid that part of me for so long. I wasn't sure that I could just give in and accept it now, even with Noah's help. But what would happen if I didn't learn to deal with this? Would it rear its ugly head when I was least 50


expecting it? When I didn't answer, he pressed himself harder against me. "You can sate his desire to hunt with sex." He sucked at a spot just beneath my ear. "But you have to let go, you have to give in." "I don't know if I can—" "I can," he said. "Let my wolf help yours." "Noah..." "You can't hurt me, Ethan." He turned me to face him and cupped the back of my neck, pulling me in close. "You can bite me, bleed me, and fuck me—and all I'll ever want is more." Hands on his hips, I tugged him close, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He pulled away and backed toward the bed, teasing me, moving his hands down his belly to frame his cock. I stalked toward him and with each step I took, he backed away. Part of me wanted him to run. The other wanted him to stop. Either way, I would taste him—touch him. He turned and bent over the edge of the bed, spreading his legs, teasing me with a view of his ass, ball sack hanging low and heavy. He reached beneath himself and up, sliding the fingers of one hand along the crack of his ass, rubbing at his hole. He shifted and went to his knees on the edge of the bed, giving me a better view. Blood rushed to my cock and as I moved closer, the musky scent of sex became thick in the air. A growl escaped my throat and even though I knew it didn't sound human, I was 51


too hard to care. I moved closer, drawn by the sight, by his scent. I bent and licked his fingers, following the trail of where they'd touched. That pretty hole tightened as my tongue grazed it. I reached between his legs, cupped his balls, his cock, and then slid my palm up his belly and to his chest. He curled a little over the top of my arm and when my fingers reached his mouth, he opened for me. He sucked them a moment before he bit down hard. I sucked in a quick breath and his scent washed through me. I pulled my fingers from his mouth and slowly began to pull my hand back, fingernails scraping along his skin as I moved. Noah's body arched the closer I came to his cock and when I finally reached it, I moved around it and pulled my hand away. He whimpered in frustration and started to turn over. I grabbed him by the hips to stop him and pulled his ass up higher, shoving my tongue into that pink hole. He squirmed and pushed back, trying to get some sort of rhythm going. I pulled back and sank my teeth into one ass cheek. He bucked and nearly screamed, fighting to get away from me. But the more he fought, the harder I bit. His muscles began to bunch and stretch and he arched, reaching back to catch my forearms. Long, sharp claws bit into my skin and the scent of blood filled the air. I'd never seen anyone partially shift so easily. I not only liked it, I wanted to see more. I pushed him forward onto the bed and he hit the mattress with a grunt before rolling to his back. I followed him onto the 52


bed and straddled his legs. The light brown hair on his belly and chest was becoming thicker, muscle and bone shifting and bunching beneath his skin. His green eyes flashed gold and one clawed hand shot out and grabbed me by the throat to try to pull me close. I growled and swatted his arm away, only for him to grab for me again. We ended up rolling across the bed, fighting for the upper hand. The scent of blood became stronger and I inhaled deeply, grabbing Noah and wrestling him onto his belly. My own muscles began to bunch and slide beneath my skin and I opened myself up, letting my wolf out. Noah tried to buck me off of him, but I held him tight, biting down hard on his shoulder. He yelped and struggled, but the more he struggled, the more I liked it. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest, in my cock. I began humping against him and when my unsheathed cock finally brushed his hole, I held him still and slowly slid into him. The sound that came from Noah was a mix of a growl and a howl, and I answered it with my own growl as my own face and mouth completed the shift. His ass was so tight, so hot, so fucking perfect, all I could manage to do at first was just enjoy the sensation of being inside him. Noah stretched out on his belly, arms and legs going wide, ass open and exposed, bushy tail off to the side as he gave himself to me—to my wolf. He growled and tossed me a look over his shoulder. "Fuck me." His words were distorted and gravelly, but my wolf understood them just fine. I mounted him hard and fast and 53


deep, clawed hands holding his hips steady, biting into his furred skin. Pleasure shot through me and I gave in, pumping steadily until I felt the orgasm begin to rip through me. I bit down at the fur at the back of his neck as I filled him, holding on desperately. Noah began to shudder and jerk beneath me and as soon as I relaxed against him, he stopped. I couldn't seem to pull out of him, so I just lay there, panting in his ear. He began to rock his hips and I growled, shoving myself deep. He growled in return and flipped us over before I could blink. Soon, I was lying on my back and Noah was riding me, facing my hind feet. In minutes, he managed to turn himself around so that he was facing me. The mischievous look in those wolf eyes was all Noah. He bent and licked at my muzzle, at my throat, nipping me through my thick fur. "It's gonna be a long night, lover." **** Noah moaned and stretched, drawing me out of a light sleep. He'd snuggled in about as far as he could without becoming a part of me. His body fit perfectly against mine, back to my chest, ass pressed tightly to my groin. One of my legs was between his and every once in a while he'd tighten them around me and then relax. I waited for him to shift again or to roll over, but he didn't. Instead, his breathing grew steady and deep. His head was nestled in the crook of my arm and with each little exhale, his 54


breath tickled. While he was sleeping, I took the opportunity to enjoy the view and the feeling. So much had changed since Noah had waltzed into my life. I felt so close to him, so at ease. It was difficult to comprehend that, technically, we'd only known each other for a matter of hours instead of days. I was falling for him so hard, so fast—consequences be damned. I moved his hair away from his neck and placed a kiss on that soft, tanned skin. He shifted just enough to reveal the scar along his cheek. I hadn't asked what had happened to him. I figured if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. But I had to admit, I was more than a little curious. I reached up and traced along the scar, just letting my fingers ghost across his skin. The scar was much deeper than it looked. Whatever had happened, it had to have hurt like hell. "Ugly, isn't it?" Damn. I hadn't meant to wake him. "Ugly? There isn't a single part of you that's ugly." "Then you haven't been looking at my face, have you?" His voice was mellow, but I knew it wasn't just from sleep. "'S okay. I'm used to it by now." "Don't say that." I frowned and rolled him onto his back, propping up on my elbow near his head. "You are the most beautiful person in the world to me." He rolled his eyes. I reached up to touch his cheek, but he tucked his head against his shoulder, hiding his scar. I shifted and straddled him, catching his arms and pinning them above his head. He 55


tried to push me off, but only managed in bouncing us on the bed. "Damn it, Ethan!" I nuzzled my face against his shoulder until he finally moved his head enough to expose his cheek. When he did, I pressed my lips to his jaw and began kissing along the line of the scar. With each kiss, I whispered the word 'beautiful' over and over again. By the time I reached his hairline, he'd relaxed beneath me. I licked away a stray salty tear before kissing at the outside corner of his eye. Pulling back just enough to see his face, I smiled. "Please don't ever use that word to describe something that's a part of you." "What?" He smirked. "Beautiful?" I bent and captured a nipple, biting down hard. He gasped and bucked up against me. I moved to the other nipple and caught it between my teeth, tugging. "Oh, not fair," he cried. "Promise me, Noah." He whimpered. "Noah..." He heaved a sigh. "Okay!" I bit down even harder. "I promise!" I let him go, soothing his nipple with my tongue. "That's better." "Asshole." 56


"Yeah, yeah." I stretched out over him and eased off to the side, kissing his cheek. "Tell me about it someday?" "It's not a long story." He shrugged. "Got shot a few years ago by a rival pack Alpha." "Here?" My eyes widened. Surely it wasn't ... It couldn't be. "Was it close to here?" "Yes," he said softly. "And yes, it's who you're thinking of." A mix of emotions went through me, but the one that was the strongest was anger. How many people had he hurt? How many lives had that bastard ruined? "I'm so sorry, Noah." "Why should you be?" He turned onto his side, shaking his head. "You had nothing to do with it." "Maybe if I'd..." I was at a loss. "...If I'd fought him harder." "Not many people fight Jake and win," he said softly. "This happened almost three years ago, so I think I should be apologizing to you for not killing him when I had a gun so close to his head." "Does he still bother you and the rest of the pack?" "Well, he did. But he's been really quiet in the last seven or eight months. It's only a matter of time, though. Jake wants territory and he'll stop at nothing to get it." "He scares me." "Anyone who meets him and says otherwise is either fooling themselves or stupid." Noah snuggled up against me, pulling the comforter over us before laying his head on my shoulder. "No more Jake, Ethan. Just you and me." "Just you and me," I repeated. 57


But Jake was in my head and I had a feeling it would take more than a good night's sleep to get him out. **** "A little to the right." "My right or your right?" Noah grinned at my glare. "Am I annoying the shit out of you?" "Your right." When he moved to where I wanted him, I jotted down the measurement. "And yes." "Good way or bad way?" "Bad way. If I don't get the measurements, I can't order your pretty things. If I can't order your pretty things, then I have to go back to town and sit in my office and wait until another job comes in where people actually want to help." "Fine." After a few minutes and a couple more directions on where to stand, he pouted. "I don't want to take you back to town." "You can always come back with me," I said. "You can drive me up here every morning, home every night." "Who's going to feed us?" He held up a hand. "And no, we cannot eat out for every damned meal. I swear, your cholesterol would be through the roof if you were human." "Says the man who ordered three appetizers, had fajitas for two, then proceeded to try to drown us both in honey." I jotted down another set of numbers and started doing some adding. "I'm not quite seeing your point." "Ethan." "Hmm?" 58


"Ethan!" At his soft yell, I looked up. His eyes were trained on me, face flushed, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. "I want to play with honey." Words escaped me. "I want to suck it off your nipples, lick it off your belly, your balls, your cock..." "Goddamn it, Noah." I took a quick look around, looking for a place that was private. Noah dropped the tape and it reeled back in with a loud hiss and click. He grabbed me by the arm, tossing my pad and pencil and the tape to the ground. He headed for the garage, nearly dragging me along behind him. When we made it inside the door, Noah pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard, plunging his tongue between my lips and into my mouth. As we kissed, we worked at each other's jeans until they were down around our thighs. I grabbed Noah and pulled to me, thrusting up against him. He whimpered and wrapped his arms around my neck, grinding his hips into mine. "Can't get enough of you," he panted. "Need you so much." "All yours," I growled between kisses. "Fuck ... Hard, baby." His cock sliding against mine felt so fucking good, precome slicking the way and making each and every movement pure heaven. We quickly found a rhythm, both of us thrusting and rubbing and stealing touches.

59


I was right there, about to explode when Noah's words passed over my lips. "Come on me, Ethan. Wanna smell just like you." I clutched his ass and thrust hard, exploding with a loud, wordless cry. As my heat began to spread between us, Noah bucked and jerked, adding his own heat. For a moment, neither of us moved. Hell, I wasn't sure that my brain was still connected to the rest of my body. Noah bent and began to lick my spent dick, laughing when I hissed and jerked away. "Too much." He worked his way up and over my belly, cleaning me off before shoving his tongue into my mouth. I sucked it clean and caught his face between my hands. Our gazes locked and Noah opened his mouth to say something, but closed it instead and kissed me one last time. As I tucked myself back in, I watched Noah carefully rub our combined semen over his dick and balls. The excess he wiped away, and then washed his hands at a utility sink. He was mine, I was his—the symbolism was clear. The fact that he wanted everyone else to know it? Well, that was about as humbling as it got. "Damn," Noah grumbled. "We have company." I scented the air, searching for a scent that didn't belong to me or Noah. The strange smell wasn't all that strange. It was earthy and musky and was the prevalent scent throughout the entire house. "Mack." Noah looked at me in shock, then grinned. "I've corrupted you already." 60


"Just opened my eyes," I said, pushing away from the wall. "You ready to face the music?" "Might as well." Mack was leaning against the side of the garage, arms crossed over his chest just like every time I'd seen him so far. He seemed annoyed, but not angry. That was a plus. When he looked at Noah, who was grinning from ear to ear, Mack's mouth twitched. "I see you're both working hard this morning." "Measurements take time and attention," Noah said in a teasing tone. "Ethan needed help." "Noah..." I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. Mack grumbled and turned his gaze to me. "I'm going to need you to stay on the property for the duration of this project." "Excuse me?" "What?" Noah added. "You can't do that! He has a business to run." "We're paying enough." Mack shrugged. "Shut it down until you're finished." "I'm sorry," I said. "I can't do that. I have crews running doing active jobs. I can't close the entire business for one customer—no matter how much they're paying." Mack pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms, but I realized then that he seemed far less threatening with his arms crossed over that massive chest. He took a step toward me, but stopped. "I have to insure the pack's safety. This will be done my way or it will not be done." 61


"Mack, don't do this," Noah begged. Mack took it a step further. "No job, no Ethan." "Don't ask me to choose, Mack." Noah's voice was nothing but a whisper, but the implications were loud and clear. Mack stared at Noah long and hard before huffing and heading toward the house. Noah started to follow, but I grabbed his shirt, pulling him back. "Don't, Noah. I'll figure out ... something." There was no way I could just up and leave and be away from Noah. If I had to shut down the office and reroute all calls to my foreman, then so be it. It wasn't just about the job anymore. Noah planted a kiss on my cheek. "You do need more clothes and the rest of your tools. There's no way around it, we have to go into town. Mack will just have to suck it up and deal." Right. I was so glad it was Noah who had the balls to tell the pack's Alpha to suck it up and deal. **** Mack had not liked it at all. In fact, the way his face had turned an odd shade of purplish-red, I expected to see steam come pouring from his ears. He'd damn near barked orders at Noah left and right then told him to take the truck, not the Jeep, and not to come home without whiskey. I dug the keys to the trailer out of my pocket as Noah pulled the truck into the parking lot. We got out and locked 62


the truck and Noah followed me up the steps, smacking my ass. "Hurry up." "If you'll stop, it'll go much faster." I shoved the key into the lock and twisted. When the door opened, Noah pushed me inside and slammed the door, licking my chin. "I can still smell us in here." "Maybe it's because you slathered yourself with come only an hour ago." "You say that like you didn't enjoy watching." He had me there. "Noah, baby, the faster we get done here," I paused to give him a quick kiss, "the faster we can get back up to the house and fuck until we pass out." He stepped back quickly. "So, what do we need to do?" "I need to make some calls. How about you..." I scratched my head, and then pointed to the chair in front of my desk. "Sit and don't touch anything—namely, me." I moved around to my chair and sat down, trying to figure out where to start. The light on the answering machine was blinking, so I figured that was as good of place to start as any. I pushed the button and pulled a notepad close. "Ethan, I ... I don't know where you are. If it has to do with yesterday ... Well, maybe I was out of line. I missed you at breakfast. Your truck's there, though. I'm worried. Call me when you get this, okay?" Noah leaned over the desk, chin resting in the palm of his hand. "How can you not hear that she's in love with you?" 63


I pointed at him. "Quiet." He winked and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and propping his boot-covered feet on my desk. "And I guarantee you that she'll be unavailable when you call. Get you worried enough about how she's feeling, and you'll come after her." "I'm not going after her." "No?" "No." I picked up the phone. "But I am calling her back. Voicemail is a wonderful thing." Noah grinned and got up. At my glare, he held his hands up in defense. "Hey, I've just got to piss. That okay?" I rolled my eyes and when Charlie picked up at the diner, I asked for Beth. He, of course, said that she wasn't in. I thanked him and hung up before dialing Beth's cell. She didn't answer that either. I waited until the system beeped. "Beth, it's Ethan. Sorry I missed your call. I was out on a job estimate with a client. I'm going to be out of town for a few weeks, so you can forego my daily breakfast. Don't worry; I'm fine." I hung up, fully expecting the phone to automatically ring back. When it didn't, I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Noah was right about that whole 'Beth in love' with me thing. I so did not want to think about that. The bathroom door opened and Noah walked out, fiddling with his shirt. "So, how long do you think the whole job will take?" I laughed. "How much are you willing to help and not distract?" 64


"Hey, I make no promises." I sat back in the chair and Noah eased around my desk. He straddled my lap and began kissing along my throat. "I promise to do my best though, if that makes you feel any better." "That does." I let my head fall back, enjoying the way his tongue played along my skin. "Don't stop." The phone rang a few minutes later and Noah chuckled between licks. "It's your woman." Ignoring him, I picked up the phone and pushed the talk button. "Russell Construction." "Hey, boss!" "Hey, Randy," I grinned at Noah in satisfaction. "What's up?" "I finished up that Forsythe job this afternoon and got a check for it in the file I'm bringing back. What's next up on the list?" "That's great, Randy. I know that job's been a bitch." "Damn near killed my fucking knees with all of the floor work." "I might have a deal for you, then. I've got an out of town job that I'll be doing privately. Would you consider running the office and the crews for a few weeks?" "Hell yeah, I'd be glad to." Randy said happily. "Give me some time to heal." "When will you be back to the office?" Noah resumed licking and sucking at my neck and reached between us, rubbing at his crotch through his jeans. "Not for another four or five hours. I'm getting a tire fixed and I'm still in Southfork." 65


"I can't wait that long." My words were short and broken. "You already have a key. I haven't moved anything around since the last time. Uh..." "Don't worry, Ethan. I know the routine." "Thanks, Randy. I appreciate it." "Anytime, boss." As I hung up the phone, Noah gave me a teasing lick on the lips and stood. I growled and grabbed for him, but he stepped out of my reach. "Where do you think you're going?" He grinned mischievously. "You go get your tools together. I'll go get your clothes." "You'll get my clothes? And I should trust you on that why?" "Because the clothes you wear the most smell like you." Noah disappeared into the back room and I started making a list of what tools I needed. I also called the home and garden store over in Southfork to see if they had one of the kits I needed to build the room around the hot tub. They didn't, of course, but were expecting one to come in tomorrow. Mack was going to love that. I went out back and opened up the storage shed, grabbing up tools left and right. It took several trips to the truck to get everything I needed. By the time I closed up the shed and walked around front with my circular saw in hand, Noah was loading my bags in the back seat of the truck. He smiled and jutted his ass out into my path. 66


I smacked him hard and continued on to the back of the truck. "Did you forget something important like underwear?" "What do you need underwear for?" "Noah..." "No, I got it." He licked at his lips. "Did you know that even after clothes are washed—" "Have you been sniffing my clothes?" He chewed his lip and averted his eyes, then pointed across the street. "Liquor store. Mack needs his whiskey." "Uh-huh." "You heard him." "I did." I moved back around to where he stood and pushed him up against the truck, laughing. "Noah, baby, you are more than welcome to sniff from the source." "Just drop to my knees and bury my face in your crotch?" "Any time." He started to bend down, but I caught him by the arms. "Except in public. They can arrest you for that shit." Noah grinned. "I want to go home now." "I figured as much." Noah and climbed into the truck and I went into the office for one last check to make sure I had what I needed and that everything was where Randy could easily find it. Satisfied, I locked up and headed out. When I got in the truck, Noah leaned over and kissed my cheek. "You sure you're okay with all of this? Staying up at the house and all?" "Honestly? If it weren't for you, I'd have told Mack to go to hell and find someone else willing to play his games." Noah 67


started to object, but I held my hand up. "They're games to me." He was quiet as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. When we pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store, he put the truck in park, but made no move to get out and didn't look over. "Would you ever consider becoming part of a pack?" "I don't know that it could ever work." He looked out the window, sighing. "Not every pack is like Jake's, Ethan." "And part of me knows and understands that." I reached over and took his hand. "But there's another part of me that says once burned..." "Yeah." He opened his door and slid out. "Anything you want?" When I shook my head, he shut the door and headed into the store. I could see into the building through the iron barcovered doors and windows, and watched as Noah walked the aisles and finally leaned against one of the shelves, covering his face with his hands. I wished my answer to his question could have been different. But from the chilly reception I'd gotten from his fellow pack members, I didn't feel his pack was a fit to me either. Not as bad as Jake's, of course, but not exactly home. Noah finally moved on down the aisle and a few minutes later, he had checked out and was putting a large paper sack into the seat between us. The bottles clinked and clanged together and I peered into the bag. Four large bottles of whiskey, looked like Jack 68


Daniels, but I couldn't be sure, stood side by side. Nestled between the bottlenecks, there was a little plastic bear filled with honey. My whole body tightened and I looked up at Noah, who was watching me. He reached across the seat and drew his fingertips over my lips. "For you and me." "You like to get messy, don't you?" Noah laughed and pulled away, seeming to perk up a little. "Until you came along? I didn't have a clue." He pulled out onto the street and things became comfortable between us again. We laughed and talked and teased all the way to the turn-off road for the house. And then, Noah teased me even more about my dislike of all things steep and high. I would have smacked him if I hadn't been so afraid of distracting him. Last thing I wanted was to go flying over the edge of some cliff. Doug and Teresa were outside on the porch when we pulled up, but the minute they saw us, they disappeared back into the house. I waited until Noah finished backing up in front of the garage before getting out. When he came to the back of the truck to help me unload tools, I gestured toward the house. "Do they do that to everyone?" "Who?" "Doug and Teresa." "I have to admit, I really haven't been paying attention to them." He frowned. "Why, what's up?" "They're not the friendliest people I've ever met." 69


"It takes a while for them to warm up. If I hadn't already been here when they joined the pack, I'm sure they'd have been the same way to me." He put the tailgate down and reached for a toolbox. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the porch and glanced up to see Mack standing near the steps, waiting. I caught Noah's arm and smiled. "I'll get this. I think someone is waiting on you." Noah looked over my shoulder and sighed. "I'll try not to be too long." "Take your time, babe. I'm not going anywhere." He blushed and turned away, walking to the front of the truck. I started unloading the contents from the truck bed. When it was all empty, I grabbed the solar cell catalog, a calculator, and my notepad from one of the toolboxes. I started doing the math on the cells, the needs of the house, and just how much material we needed to complete the job. I wanted to order as soon as possible in case there were any problems with getting exactly what we needed. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck up here sitting on my ass with Mack and everyone else glaring at me because I was basically getting paid to sit around. Or fuck. And with Noah around, fucking was a given. The more I figured, the higher the numbers went. I hadn't been far off when I gave Noah the initial estimate of nearly half a million. I could cut that amount in half, however, if I were willing to deliver at cost. 70


If it were anyone else, I wouldn't even think of it. But with Noah, there were a lot of things I was willing to do for him. Decision made, I closed the file and started for the house. I walked through the front door and into the entryway, but no one was around. I made my way through the house, but after searching damn near every room on the first level, I headed for the den so I could check the lower level. Just as I reached for the knob, I heard Noah and Mack arguing inside. "I can't believe you would bring one of Jake's pups up here—to our house!" "He isn't one of Jake's pups, Mack." Noah's voice was full of anger. "He isn't even part of Jake's pack!" Mack seemed to sigh and then the words between them became hushed and quiet and I couldn't make them out. Murmurs went back and forth between the two of them and finally, everything went silent. "If he goes, I go with him." "What the fuck is wrong with you, Noah?" Mack had to be snarling. "You met him yesterday and you're declaring loyalty to him instead of me—instead of the pack?" "How long did you know mom before you knew she was the one?" Noah asked. His mother? What did...? Unless... "That has nothing to do with this." "Mack, it has everything to do with it." "If he were—" "Don't you fucking say it! I swear to God, I thought you understood!" The room went silent again. 71


"So you think he's your mate?" Mack sounded defeated. At the silence that followed, I could only guess that Noah was making a gesture of some sort. "I see." Mack's chair creaked as he either sat down or shifted. "It won't be easy, Noah. He's never been a part of a pack—and that's all you've ever known." "That's something for him and me to deal with." "Let me ask you something, Noah. Does he know how you feel? What it all means in the long run?" "No." "Then I suggest you tell him before you get him started on this job. I won't have him here and unhappy. If he's not happy, he can't be trusted." "Whatever, Mack." I suddenly realized I'd been doing nothing but eavesdropping. Yeah. How trustworthy was that? I heard footsteps approaching the door and started to slink away when Mack called out to Noah. "I loved your mother dearly, Noah." "But not enough to save her." "I gave her the choice and you know it." "A choice not everyone gets, obviously." The words held a touch of resentment, but Noah's voice was calm. "Luckily, that's not something Ethan and I will have to deal with." "No," Mack said. "You just have to get him to accept his wolf. That, my boy, is probably the thing that will tear you apart the fastest." Mack's words hit hard. I turned and started back down the hall, but when the door clicked open, I knew that I'd never be 72


able to get around the corner before Noah stepped out. I stopped and turned around, heading back toward the den. Noah smiled when he saw me. "I was just coming to see if you needed help." I fully intended on coming clean, but when I opened my mouth to tell him that I'd been listening to his conversation with Mack, the words caught in my throat. Noah glanced at the folder in my hands. "That the final figures?" I clutched the file tighter. "Pretty much." "Cool. You want to raid the kitchen with me for a snack and then walk me through the figures?" "Sure." **** Dinnertime was quickly becoming my most dreaded part of the day. Everyone ate together around the table, guests included. I was pretty sure it wasn't the normal run of things for conversation to be so lacking. Doug stared at his plate as he ate, Teresa stared at me. Noah, either oblivious to it all or trying to take my mind of things, had one hand rubbing up and down on my thigh. He was certainly giving me something else to think about— mostly how it was going to look when I got up from the table with a hard on or a wet stain on my jeans. I finally grabbed his hand and held it still, giving him a look of warning. He shot for innocent with that smile, but missed it by a long shot. "Later," I mouthed.

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He raised both eyebrows suggestively and pulled his hand away. Thankful for a reprieve, I cut into my steak and continued eating. "So, Noah," Teresa's tone was condescending. "What do we know about our new handyman beside the fact that he's loud in bed?" "Quiet, Teresa," Mack growled. She took a sip of wine and cut another piece of steak. She stared at Noah the entire time she chewed and when she swallowed, she smiled—the gesture looking more like a snarl than anything. "What happened to that guy you were seeing a few months back? Where was he from? Denver?" "I haven't been seeing anyone and you damned well know it," Noah snapped. "Oh, that's right. He was too human for you, wasn't he?" Teresa cut her eyes over at me. "Sort of like this one." Doug, who was sitting next to Teresa, cursed under his breath. "See, Noah has this problem. He likes to fuck and shift all at the same time. Can't seem to help himself." Teresa picked up her glass and gestured to Noah. "Last guy he was seeing? Noah forgot to tell him what he was before he shifted." "That was nearly ten years ago, bitch." Teresa tsked. "Ten, two. Doesn't matter. Outcome was still the same. Did I ever tell you how he screamed when I—" "Teresa!" Mack slammed his fist on the table and stood. "What is wrong with you?" Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. I couldn't take anymore of Teresa's vitriol and I had a feeling she had a lot 74


more of it waiting in the wings. I stood and said my thanks for dinner and left the dining room. Noah's chair scraped across the floor and I heard him call my name, but then heard Mack call him back. I didn't wait around to see or hear what went on and continued on to my room. I contemplated packing my shit and leaving, but knew that wasn't as easy as it sounded. I leaned against the wall and sank down onto the floor. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? There was a knock on the door and I groaned. "Go away." The door opened anyway and Mack stepped in, looked down at me, then frowned. "I'm afraid that since it's my house, I don't have to go anywhere." I just shrugged. The man had a point. Mack closed the door and found a chair, pulling it closer before he sat down in it before me. He stared down at me for the longest time, as if thinking about what he was going to say. Or, maybe he was trying to figure out how to get rid of me. Finally, he sighed and sat forward. "Do you love him?" "What?" I looked up at him, wide-eyed. "I don't ... I mean, we just met—" "Yesterday," he finished for me. "Is that right?" I nodded. "Hardly time to know whether you love someone or not." "That's bullshit and I'm going to tell you why." He stood and walked over to the windows that had taunted me so much only the night before. "Humans have this weird fucking habit of trying to prove their instincts to be wrong. But the 75


truth of it is: ninety-eight percent of the time, when we meet someone—we already know whether that person is going to mean something to us or not." "Like what? Love at first sight?" I snorted. "Sounds like a Saturday night movie on the whiny-bitch channel." "Ethan." His tone was reprimanding. "My point ... is that sometimes we just need to step back and let our wolf make some of our decisions." Oh. Oh, hell no. We were so not going there. Mack turned and walked back across the room, offering me his hand. "Let's go for a walk." "Now?" "You have something better to do?" Than spend time with the man who owned the house I was a guest in? Good point, obvious, yet not. I took his hand and got to my feet. "Lead the way." Mack led me down a hallway and stopped before his bedroom door. Noah had pointed it out to me when we toured the house and said it was the only room that was entirely offlimits. Mack opened the door and gestured for me to go in before he followed. I took a brief look around the room, noticing the lit fireplace with a chair and table pushed up next to it. A halfempty tumbler of whiskey sat on the edge of the table. On the mantle above the fireplace was a painting of a beautiful woman with long brown hair and piercing green eyes. Her expression was so happy, so loving. Whoever the artist had been, they'd been damned good. One had to be in order to capture that magnitude of emotion through a portrait. 76


But there was something else about her that held me captive. It took me a moment to figure it out, but when I did, it took my breath away. "Is that Noah's mother?" Mack gazed up at the painting on the wall, nodding. "Beautiful, isn't she?" "Very," I replied. "Noah has her eyes." "Noah has a lot of his mother in him." He chuckled. "The eyes are all he'll concede to though, if asked." "You loved her." "From the moment I met her." Mack stared longingly up at the painting. "Hell, we moved in together three days after we met. It was that right." "But she was human?" Mack nodded. "Noah told you about her?" "No, he didn't." I sighed and shoved my hands into my jean pockets. "I overheard your conversation with Noah earlier." He looked over at me, frowning. "What exactly did you hear?" "Most everything after you scolded Noah for bringing one of Jake's pups to the house." "I see." Mack moved to his chair and sat down, sighing heavily. He gestured to a chair next the fireplace. "Pull up a chair, or..." When he trailed off and absently gestured to the floor beside him, I swallowed hard, weighing my actions carefully. I may not have had much pack knowledge or experience, but the things I did know were relatively simple. If I pulled the 77


chair up and sat across from him, it could mean anything from me considering myself his equal—which had implications of its own—or that I didn't respect him. The fact that he'd offered the floor said a lot. The floor at the Alpha's feet was reserved for pack members that were in the Alpha's good graces. It was a privilege and to deny it was more than rude. Slowly, I moved across the floor and sat on the edge of the rug, just a few feet from Mack's chair. Mack studied me for a long while, then held his hand out in offering. I stared at his hand, heart pounding in my chest, and found myself moving toward him. When my chest brushed his legs, he leaned forward and cupped my cheek. "Come closer, Ethan." I had never, ever wanted anything to do with a pack. But with everything in me, I found myself longing for Mack's touch—for the comfort only a father could give. Moving in, I laid my cheek on Mack's knee, rubbing against him just slightly. His hand smoothed my hair, down my neck, then rested on my shoulder. "You fight what is instinct," Mack said gently. "Would it be so be so bad to be part of a pack that loved and valued you?" Tears burned my eyes and I grit my teeth as they pooled and streamed down my cheeks. If I'd had this instead of Jake, things might have been so very different over the past two years. "The only thing I've experienced from a pack is pain." "Tell me what happened between you and Jake?" I leaned heavily against Mack, sighing. "I met him a few months after I moved here. I was lonely, he was interested. 78


My history with men and relationships was—is—pretty much zip. When he was a jerk, I thought it was normal. When sex was hard and rough and I complained, he said I was too sensitive. And when he got violent..." Mack rubbed my shoulders. "Is that how you were turned? He got violent and attacked you?" "Oh no, it was very much a deliberate thing. He pulled the sorry card, wanted me to spend the weekend with him so that he could make up for being such an asshole." My fingers nervously worked at the hem of Mack's jeans. "And stupid me, I went." "Did you know anything of werewolves before then? Had he told you?" "No. For two days..." I closed my eyes and breathed in Mack's scent. Being close to him was calming. "Two days he showed me, in vivid detail, just what a werewolf was and just what kind of pain one could inflict. If I thought the sex was rough when he was human..." My words trailed and Mack shifted, fingers pressing beneath my chin, urging me to look up at him. When I did, the look in his eyes was sympathetic. "What he did to you, everything he did to hurt you—I can't take that away. No one can." "I know." "It'll be with you for as long as you live," he continued. "But if you let his actions color the way you relate to others and the way you live your life—then he wins. And you don't want him to win, do you?" "I can't get away from him, Mack." 79


"If you are part of a pack, that gives Jake a lot less leverage." "I know what Noah told you." I sat back, breaking contact with him. "If you mean to keep him here by offering me a place, it's not going to work." "You think I have less than pure motives for offering you a place?" "I think you would do anything to keep your pack together." "I would," he agreed. "But if Noah decides he wants a life with you outside of the pack, then I will do my best to support him." "Would you? Or would you hold it over his head that he chose between me and the pack?" "If the situation were reversed, who would you choose? Pack or Noah?" "Noah, of course." "Why would you choose him over a pack that could give you safety and family?" "Because I lo..." Mack sat back, smiling. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch that." I lay back on the floor, glaring up at the exposed beam ceiling. "I've only known him for a day." "Yet you've let him in closer than you've let anyone else in." He nudged me with his bare foot. "Let him so close that you spent most of last night in wolf form mating." I curled my fingers into the rug, groin going tight at the memory. "I guess everyone heard." "Of course we did." 80


"Should I be embarrassed?" "Are you?" "No." Mack grinned, but before he could say anything the phone rang. "Hold that thought." He got up and grabbed a handset from his bedside table. When he said hello, I turned my attention to the fire, thinking about our conversation, where it had led, what it had meant. I'd always been so against having anything to do with a pack because of Jake, but Mack was showing me—rather quickly— that things could be different. I could do without Doug and Teresa, but Mack ... I liked him. The thought of having someone like him to confide in was so very tempting. Could I do it, though? Could I get over everything Jake's pack had shown me to become part of Mack's pack? This was where Noah was happiest, but he was willing to let it all go for me. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't force him to choose. How in hell I'd ever run a business from up here, though, was lost on me. Mack walked around his chair and sat down, scratching his head. He seemed troubled. I got to my knees and knelt beside him. "Everything okay?" His mouth went tight. "The rest of the pack won't be coming in this weekend after all." "Something happen?" "They're just ... busy." He truly looked hurt. "I'm sorry, Mack." 81


"It's okay; it happens." Mack reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "I am thrilled that Noah has found someone. I want him to be happy." "I do, too." "Promise me that you'll always take care of him—and that you'll let him take care of you, too." I nodded. "Tell him you love him, Ethan. Don't fight, don't wonder and worry, just go with your heart." He smiled. "And listen to your wolf. He won't lead you astray." I leaned into his touch and got to my feet. Mack stood with me and grabbed me up in a tight hug. I hugged him back and then pulled away just far enough to see his face. "Thank you, Mack." "What for?" "For showing me a different kind of Alpha." He kissed me on the forehead and pushed me back. "I'm here if you ever need anything. If you ever change your mind about the pack..." "I'll think about it." Mack seemed to want some space, and I wanted to find Noah. "See you in the morning?" He nodded. "Have a good night." "You, too." I headed for the door and turned before I shut it. Mack had already sat back down and was finishing off his tumbler with whiskey. I shut the door and gave him his privacy, heading off to find Noah.

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I didn't have to look hard. I opened up my bedroom door just as he was about to walk out. Relief passed over his face when he saw me. "I've been looking for you." "I was with Mack." I pushed him back into the room and closed the door. "Not like I was about to go down the mountain all by myself." He raised an eyebrow. "But you're okay?" "Why wouldn't I be?" "I just..." He shrugged. "Well, I didn't expect you to be so happy after spending time with him." "I like him. A lot." Noah's face lit up in a smile. "Yeah?" I nodded. "I was going to see if maybe you wanted to watch some TV or..." I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tugged him closer. He swallowed hard. "Ethan?" "I'm thinking I'd like to stay in." I pushed his shirt up and off, dropping it to the floor. "Maybe go to bed early." Goosebumps rose over his skin as I trailed my fingers up his arms and then slowly let them trail down his chest. He pushed against me and I took both nipples between thumb and index finger, twisting and pulling just slightly. Noah shuddered and let his head fall back. That exposed throat drew me in and I licked and sucked at his skin, just tasting him, enjoying the feel of his stubbledjaw against my tongue as I worked my way to his lips. "I think I like going to bed early." "Good to hear." I worked at his jeans and pushed them down his hips. "Help get me naked?" 83


His hands immediately found my shirt and tugged it up over my head. Stepping out of his jeans, he went to his knees and ran his tongue from my navel to the enclosure of my jeans. As he got my jeans open and began pushing them down, he licked and teased as each bit of skin was exposed. I dropped a hand to his head, not pushing, just petting through that long, soft hair. Noah took me in his hand, stroking up and down my shaft. He gave the head of my cock a sucking kiss and then a lick, sighing. "Taste so good." "Suck me ... for just a minute." He licked my balls instead, cutting his eyes up at me, watching my reaction. I suddenly didn't care if he was sucking them or my cock—as long as he had his mouth on me. I held my cock against my belly and stepped out of my jeans, spreading my legs to give him more access. He sucked one of my nuts into his mouth, tongue flicking and teasing at the same time. I dropped my head back and tried like hell to resist the urge to grind down against his mouth. He pulled off and sucked my other nut in and my knees buckled. He laughed and the vibration was almost too much. "You're gonna make me come, damn it." "Isn't that the idea?" "Technically ... yes. But I'd really like to be inside you when I do." Lips slid around my cock and he took me in until I bumped the back of his throat. He relaxed and took me in just a little 84


more until he had his nose buried in my pubic hair. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled back and then sucked me in again. "Noah..." He continued his slow and steady pace and it wasn't long before I had to push him off. I pulled him to his feet and kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue. I couldn't take any more of this standing. I wanted him in bed, wanted to feel his weight on me. I steered us toward the bed, but he stopped me before I could push him back and opened the drawer on the bedside table. A bottle of lube was grabbed as I pulled him onto the bed, and then abandoned as I settled my weight between his legs. His legs wrapped around mine and warm hands slid low against my back, then my ass. We humped and rubbed, sharing teasing kisses and licks. The friction was almost too much after the way he'd already sucked me and I settled for just rubbing my belly against his cock. He finally rolled me onto my back before straddling my hips. "Get me slick?" "You know it." Finding the lube, I flipped the cap on the bottle and squirted some on my fingers, rubbing them together to warm them. He rose up on his knees and skimmed his hands down his belly before rubbing them enticingly over his cock and balls. After a moment, he winked and pulled his balls up, spreading his legs further in offering. I reached down and found his hole, rubbing slick fingers back and forth over it, but not trying to enter him. The fingers 85


of one hand went to his mouth and he wet them with spit before finding his cock again. As he stroked, I slid one finger inside him, working him a bit, and then added another. He sank down onto my fingers, and leaned forward to kiss me, a sigh passing from his lips and into my mouth. I curled my fingers inside him, searching for that one spot to drive him out of his mind. When I found it, he jerked, grinding his ass against my hand. I fingered him as we kissed, working that spot over and over again, swallowing down each and every moan. He pushed up after a while, and scooted down a little. "Need you, need to feel you." Nodding, I pulled my fingers from him and slicked my cock. One hand on his hip, I pulled him down gently, rubbing myself back and forth over that tight hole. He took me in easily, tight heat sliding down around me. His ass clamped down around me and he held himself up with hands on my chest "You gonna ride me?" He nodded. "Gonna come just from me being inside you?" "God, yes..." "Show me, Noah." He licked at his lips as he started to move. His hair hid part of his face and I reached up and pushed it back, wanting to see him—to see all of him. After a while, he arched his back, seeking out more of my touch. My hands went around his neck, just framing it, thumbs rubbing at his throat. His mouth fell open and a moan 86


escaped. I dropped my hands lower, fingers finding his nipples again. He hissed and ground down hard. "Oh, fuck yes." His belly tightened, cock leaking precome steadily. I worked my hands down that flat belly, his thighs at my sides, up his back, then stretched so I could slide my fingers down and rub his hole, to feel where we were joined. That hole stretched tightly around me, but he was so relaxed, so slick, that I managed to slip a single finger in along-side my cock. Noah let out a long, low groan. "Love you inside me." "Love being inside you." I licked and kissed all along his shoulder and his neck, biting down on the sinewy muscle in his neck. "Best fucking thing in the world is touching you ... loving you." Noah pushed me back on the bed and forced my finger out of him. His gaze locked with mine and as he started to move, I couldn't look away. It was as if we were sharing something so intimate, so sacred. I found myself holding his hips tight, pushing up deep. His breathing became harsh and he clamped down around me, shaking, panting. In a matter of moments, he sucked that bottom lip between his teeth and jerked. The dazed look in his eyes and the feel of his heat coating me sent me over. Belly going tight, I came, holding him close as I filled him. Even then, I was unable to look away. Mack was right—I knew. I bracketed my hands around his face and pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you, Noah." 87


He nodded, eyes glittering and happy. "I know." **** Grace had gone all out on breakfast: eggs, bacon, ham, pancakes, biscuits, and an array of fruits lined the long table. Teresa glared as Noah and I sat down at the table. A few seconds later she pushed her plate away, grabbed her coffee, and left the room. "Bitch," Noah said under his breath. "She's never going to warm up, is she?" "Starting to think not." Mack walked in and sat down in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. He looked as if he'd had a long night, and if I didn't know better, as if he might have been hung over. I wasn't sure how much of the whiskey he'd have had to consume to achieve that one. "Everything okay, Mack?" He glanced up, but didn't actually look at either of us. "I'm fine. Just tired. Stayed up too late." Noah nodded, but I could tell he was still concerned. As we made our plates and then dug in and started eating, Mack did the same. After only a few minutes though, Mack got up and grabbed his coffee cup. Before he left the room, he stopped behind Noah and grasped his shoulder. Noah reached up and patted Mack's hand, but didn't say anything. Mack soon turned and ambled out, leaving Noah and me alone again. Noah dropped his fork and leaned into me, sighing. 88


"I hate it when he gets like this. Nothing anyone can do or say will pull him out of it." "Does it happen often?" "Not quite as much as it used to, but yeah." He shrugged. "He misses my mother." I remembered the look in Mack's eyes as he gazed up at Noah's mother's portrait the night before. "Desperately." Noah nodded. "If you want to know the truth? I'm surprised he's lasted this long. Mack never wanted to lose her, but he respected her wishes." "What happened to her?" "Cancer," he said softly. "She found out and was gone in a matter of weeks. He begged and begged her to let him save her, to let him try, but she felt the fates had dealt her cards." "I'm so sorry, baby." "Mack was—is—the only father I've ever known." He sat up a little, grabbed his glass, and proceeded to pour himself some orange juice from the pitcher. He offered me some, but I declined. After taking a few sips, he looked over at me. "He's also the one that turned me." "Oh man, that had to have been awkward." "When mom died, Mack went out of his mind. He was so lost, so angry. He stayed with her body for days and wouldn't let anyone near her. When I tried to get Mack to let her go, to let me call someone so they could prepare her body—Mack lashed out. He partially shifted when he did and I got cut." Noah shrugged and toyed with his glass of juice. "After that, it was like Mack just sort of snapped back to reality. And then he let her go." 89


"How old were you?" "Twenty-three." I pushed his juice aside and took his hand. "Maybe Mack has made it all of these years because he's had you to watch after." Noah nodded and teared up. "I'm afraid he'll give up now. I've got my mate, someone to watch over me..." I didn't know what to say to that, so I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight. I hoped like hell that Mack would find the peace he needed and be able to live with the memory of Noah's mother, even if he didn't have her. I knew in my heart though, that if I were ever to lose Noah, it would kill me. **** Noah and Doug had gone into town that afternoon to pick up the kit for the hot tub house and the hot tub itself. I was pretty sure that Doug hadn't offered to go and help on his own. The look he shot me that day as he and Noah walked out the door had been far from kind. Teresa had been the same way, though, so I wasn't sure what the deal was. I pretty much got the clue that my time at the house wasn't going to be appreciated by either of them. Now, only three days later, the house for the hot tub was almost finished. It was early evening and Noah and I had been working steadily. No matter how much of a distraction he could be, he was damned good help. We'd have this thing finished tomorrow. "Hey, babe, hand me that level, please." 90


Noah stretched across the ground to reach the level. His shirt rode up, exposing a bit of skin low on his back and I took a moment to appreciate the view. No matter how many times I'd had the pleasure of running my hands over every inch of that skin in the past few days, I could never get enough. "Anything else I can get you?" Noah asked as he slid the level into my hand. "All you have to do is say the word." Uh-huh. I knew exactly what the word was for him—for us. "Not even going there, Noah." "You are such a spoil-sport." **** "Ethan, baby, I need you to wake up." I groaned and shifted, coming awake only to remember that I was lying on an unfinished wooden floor. After dinner, we'd gone for a walk and then ended up in the hot tub house ... or what there was of it. Noah had fucked me across the floor so hard and fast that I was sure I must've had splinters in my ass and knees. Noah's hand clamped over my mouth and tightened when I tried to shrug it off. He gestured with a single finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet, pointed to his ear and then toward the line of trees in the distance. When I tried to sit up, he held me close, shaking his head. Confused, I listened and looked, hearing nothing but the normal sounds of animals scampering in the woods at night, seeing nothing but trees. 91


I shrugged, shook my head, and started to tell him it was nothing—and then I heard a twig break. For a moment, I almost believed that it was just an animal. But then everything else went silent. An intruder or predator was close and all of the animals had gone still and silent. Selfpreservation at its finest. "Something's wrong," Noah mouthed. I nodded that I understood and reached for our clothes. Both of us had slipped on sweats and a T-shirt after dinner and I was so glad that we'd chosen a soft, quiet material. But no matter how quiet the material, each and every move was magnified in the silence. I finished tying my shoes and gave Noah a questioning look. He pointed to the house. I saw his point. Outside the house, we weren't safe. But if someone was outside with us, watching us, I had no clue how we were going to get into the house without them knowing. Noah carefully slid across the floor and placed his feet on the ground. He scented the air and reached back, tugging at my pants leg. I scooted down and sat beside him. "What is it?" I whispered. "Someone's in the trees." He chewed his lips. "More than one." "Familiar?" He seemed conflicted. "Yes and no." "Maybe one of the others is hunting? Playing?" He listened for a while, then shook his head. "The house is surrounded. We have to get inside—get to Mack." "Won't Mack know they're here? Maybe—" 92


He covered my mouth with his fingers, holding a single one to his own lips. "We go against the house, straight to Mack's room. Stay in the shadows." Before I could say anything in response, Noah grabbed my arm and started for the house. Leaves and twigs crunched under foot and when we hit the wall, Noah froze, holding me still as well. We eased along the wall and crouched behind a bush. He jabbed me with his elbow and pointed to the line of trees on the back side of the house. I saw a figure move in the shadow of the trees. For the first time, I realized this was really, really bad. If they weren't making a move to come to us, to attack—then they had to be waiting. But what were they waiting on? We were pretty much trapped and surrounded. Noah turned and placed his hand over my heart. "Calm." My breath was coming faster and faster, heart pounding in my chest. I could feel my wolf, restless, nervous. We couldn't just sit here, exposed, waiting for an attack. "We need to move." He nodded and started moving again. With each step, my heart thudded in my chest and soon, it was all I could hear. But we kept moving, kept going. Just before we rounded the corner at Mack's room, one of the shadowed figures moved out of the trees. I grabbed Noah and pulled him back against the wall, body covering his. He pushed me back a little and looked at the figure, scenting the air hard. After a few seconds, he whimpered and pulled away, trying to go around the corner. I grabbed him 93


and dragged him back. He pointed to the figure that was now moving away from us. "Doug." "You sure?" He nodded and moved to the corner, peering around it. A whimper like I'd never heard before bellowed out of him and he swatted at my hands, trying to get me away from him. Confused and losing the battle with holding onto him, I let him go. One of the French doors to Mack's room was standing open. The scent of blood hit hard and my stomach twisted into knots. I grabbed for Noah as he set off in a dead run for the door. I followed on his heels, trying to watch the line of trees. If they hadn't seen us before, they sure as hell would now. "No, no, no.... "Noah was crying as he ran into Mack's room. "Oh, God, Mack, tell me what to do!" Mack was in his chair, empty bottle of whiskey on the table beside him. In his chest was a long, silver dagger that I'd recognize anywhere. It had been used to carve a 'J' on the inside of my right thigh two years ago. "Noah ... son." Mack moaned and looked at Noah. "You and Ethan have to get out." I knelt and examined the damage. The skin was burnt everywhere the silver had touched and the blood oozing from the wound was thick and black. It had soaked Mack's pajama shirt and pants and was dripping from the chair to pool on the floor beneath. "We have to get you out, Mack." 94


He looked at me and shook his head. "Can't fix this." "Yes!" Noah was shaking almost uncontrollably. "We'll get you to the Jeep, get you to—" "No hospitals. You know that." Mack coughed and then clenched his teeth. "All I want is for you and Ethan to get to safety." Noah buried his face into Mack's neck, sobbing. "I don't want to leave you." "I'll always be with you, Noah," Mack said gently. "Right now, I need you to be strong. I need you to listen to me." Noah knelt beside me, clinging to Mack's legs. "Who did this?" "Jake," I answered. He looked at me, then at Mack. "Jake is here?" Mack nodded. "He and his pack are in the woods, waiting." "Doug was out there, too." Noah hung his head. "Tell me this is a bad dream." "Do you remember the number?" Mack asked Noah. When he nodded, Mack continued. "Get to a phone, call that number, and someone will come for you." "What about you? We can't just leave you here for them to—" "I won't be here to care." Mack's head fell back and he groaned. "Ethan, son, I need you to get a towel ... or something ... and pull out this dagger." It was the last thing I wanted to do, but we couldn't get him out, we couldn't save him, the least we could do was send him off in peace without Jake finding him alive and torturing him. I got up and looked around until I found a 95


discarded hand towel. I squeezed Noah's shoulder as I came back. Noah sighed in resignation and smiled up at Mack. "Say hi to mom?" Mack nodded and looked at me. "Ready?" "No, but we're running out of time." I wiped tears from my eyes and met Mack's gaze. "Are you sure?" "Do it and then get out of here." Noah stood and bent over Mack, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you." "Love you, too." Mack reached up and caressed Noah's cheek. "Always." I wrapped the towel around the dagger's handle, grasped it tightly, and pulled it out in one swift motion. Mack jerked, back bowing, then relaxed. He then looked up over Noah's head to the painting on the wall and smiled. In only seconds, Mack's hand dropped and he relaxed completely. I threw the dagger aside and grabbed Noah, pulling him into my arms. He clutched at me, burying his face in my neck. I comforted him for a few minutes, then pushed him back. "We have to get out of here, Noah." He took my hand and led me to the door. "I think we should get as far away from here as can before we shift." "Are you sure?" He nodded. "They'll be expecting us to go down the mountain. We're going up." I didn't know why, but I wasn't about to question him now. He knew the area better than anyone. We found a line of 96


trees that looked clear and made a break for it. Once we reached them, we stopped and waited, listening for any sign that we might have been seen. Noah leaned against me, a hopeful look on his face. "I think we're okay." "We're going to be," I whispered. "Let's keep moving." He nodded and we took off again. Going uphill slowed us down, but the further we got from the house, the better things seemed. We'd been running for a while, crashing through trees and underbrush, when Noah grabbed at my arm. "We should—" An angry howl pierced the otherwise quiet night and Noah and I both froze. Another howl followed the first. Neither of us bothered to change before we shifted. Muscles bunched and stretched, bones popped and cracked as they reshaped. Fur pushed through skin, and when I completed my shift, Noah was waiting, listening, watching. Once I got my bearings, Noah licked my muzzle and took off. I followed as best as I could, but I wasn't quite used to being in this body and running. Before long, instinct kicked in and I became a little more sure-footed. Noah led me up and down and through little streams and down big, steep cliffs. When we hit a flat area covered with aspens, we were able to gain some speed. At the far edge of that area, we stopped, trying to decide which way to go. Before we'd made a decision, a flash of movement in the direction from which we'd just come caught my eye. I didn't wait around to find out who or what the 97


movement was caused by. I nudged Noah, but when he didn't move, I bit at his haunch, urging him on. He yelped and cast a cursory glance before taking off. We ran full out until we came to a dirt road. We followed alongside it, staying off the main path. The dirt road led to a paved one and a short distance away, there was a bridge over a running creek. We went across the road and into the water. I thought we were just going to cross onto the land on the other side, but Noah swam his way under the bridge and came out on the opposite bank. I followed, hoping that the little trick would at least buy us some time. Soaking wet, Noah and I started off again at a full-out run. Along the way we passed several houses. Most of them were abandoned, some of them inhabited, but all of them were without phone service. The further we went, the more discouraged I became. And then we hit a small store. It was closed and locked up for the night, but there was a phone. Noah and I went around back and he shifted back to human form. He grabbed the padlock on the iron-barred door and ripped it off. I nudged him off when he started to say something. "Phone." He nodded and disappeared inside. I crept back around to the front of the store and sat at the corner of the building, watching for any sign of trouble. A short time later, Noah walked up beside me, running his fingers through my fur. "Anything?" I shook my head. 98


"We haven't lost them, I'm sure of it." He knelt and leaned against me. "Five more miles and someone will be waiting for us." "Who?" "Some Council team that was close by." He sighed and patted my shoulder. "Come on, let's go." He shifted and motioned for me to follow him. Numerous RVs lined the parking lot and we had to take care when wading through the maze. Last thing we needed was someone to be awake and peek out the window. These things were like tin cans and if one person screamed, the entire lot would hear and we'd be surrounded by humans scared out of their skulls. Once we made it out of there, Noah and I set off at a run again. Even though we'd not seen anyone since the aspen field, we weren't in the clear. When Noah stopped short and looked around, I nudged him. He shook his head and shifted, urging me to do the same. I'd grown so comfortable on four legs though, that when I shifted back, I stumbled. He steadied me and smiled. "Okay?" I nodded. "Why are we stopping?" "Because hopefully in about a minute or two a helicopter is going to be landing in the field right in front of us." He wrapped an arm around me and we walked over to sit on a large rock at the tree line. "We've just got to wait and listen." "We haven't lost them." "I know." He kissed my shoulder and sighed. "But we're going to be out of here in just minutes." 99


I didn't want to ask him what we were going to do if the chopper never showed. "Are you okay?" "I feel betrayed." He glanced up at the sky, sighing. "And stupid. If anyone had asked if something like this were possible in our pack, I'd have sworn on my life that it wasn't." "Sometime the people we trust in and love the most are the ones who hurt us the most." "I don't know who to trust," he said. "I mean, was it just Doug and Teresa? Was it the entire pack? Is that why everyone canceled? Did they all know? And how in the hell did Jake get them on his side?" "We may never know the answer to some of those questions." Noah pressed his forehead against the side of my head. "I know that I can trust you." "Don't ever doubt it." I turned my head and kissed him. "Love you." "Love you, too." He shivered and tucked his arms between us. "It's cold." I rubbed my hands up and down his back, trying to work up some heat from the friction. But you didn't just traipse around in the mountains at night naked. It was tempting to shift back into wolf form. Before I could think on that anymore, a measured thump-thump-thump echoed in the distance. Noah and I both jumped to our feet, scanning the sky. I couldn't see anything, but the sound was getting closer and closer. Soon, the wash from the rotors hit and I looked up 100


and saw a big, black military helicopter closing in about two hundred yards out into the field. "A Blackhawk?" I looked at Noah. "Who the fuck are these people?" "Long story, babe." He laughed and shoved me forward. "Let's go." Noah ended up ahead of me a little and we were halfway to the aircraft when something black and furry attacked Noah. I ran toward them to help, but then something hit me from behind and knocked me onto my stomach. I slid over the rocky ground, wincing as rock and brush tore at my naked skin. Claws bit into my back and I swung back, throwing the wolf off me. He came at me again and I barely managed to shift one hand before he made contact. His muzzle snapped repeatedly, trying to get at my throat. I shoved my hand into his belly and he yelped, but it didn't stop his assault. The wolf's head went back suddenly and his massive body fell backward off mine. Noah helped me up and we continued on. A series of loud pops rang out and I ducked to the ground, trying to cover my head. Noah grabbed my arm and screamed over the sound of gunfire and the roaring engines of the helicopter. "They're shooting behind you, not at you! Run, Ethan!" I risked a look behind us and when I saw the number of wolves running toward us, I had no problem running. The wash was strong, but we made it to the waiting helicopter and hands grabbed at us, pulling us inside. 101


I sat on a bench seat in the corner, trying to catch my breath as the aircraft lifted off. The gunfire continued sporadically and then finally stopped. I pulled Noah into my arms and kissed the top of his head, looking up at the crew for the first time. They were all dressed in military-like uniforms, except they were black instead of camouflage and there was a purple and gold insignia patch on their chest and sleeves. The one who had manned the gun sat back and smiled—except it wasn't a man at all. The woman smiled and tossed over a scratchy wool blanket and a headset. When I frowned at the headset, Noah took it and put it on. For a few minutes, he talked with her and—I assumed, by the way the other crew members were nodding their heads—the rest of the crew. After a while, one of the crew handed Noah another headset and he put it on me, smiling. "Can you hear me?" "Yep." "We've got three choices: New York, Louisiana, or Texas." "My vote is Texas," I said. "Though, Louisiana wouldn't be bad either." "I'm leaning toward Texas." "Texas it is, then," I said with a smile. He chewed his lip for a minute. "Only thing with Texas? The pack is a part of a larger coven." "Witches?" He shook his head. "Vampires." Vampires. 102


Sure, I'd heard of them as a kid growing up. But I'd never in my life come across one. I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing, but if Noah was willing, then I'd go. "Vampires, huh? That safe?" The woman threw another blanket over that hit me in the chest. She grinned as I met her eyes, showing her fangs. "Vampire just saved your butt, wolf-boy." Another crew member turned and lifted the visor covering his face. He grinned as well, showing his set of fangs. Wow. What a way for me to really put my foot in it. Noah jabbed me in the side, laughing. "I think we're good, baby." "Yeah." I settled the blanket over me and leaned into Noah. "We're gonna be good." We settled into silence and the crew took up their own flight conversation, talking bearings and headings and all. Noah laced his fingers through mine and squeezed, but didn't say anything. I wasn't sure I knew what to say, myself. So much had happened, so much had changed. Both of us had left unfinished business behind, but there would be a time for dealing with that later. For now, I was just glad we were safe, glad we were both alive, and glad we'd found each other when we did. Everything else was just details.

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Son of a Bitch By Emily Veinglory It was about one in the morning when a stranger walked into the Gnoxville West gas station. He was tall and thin, wearing a sharp, grey linen suit with the jacket on despite the intense summer heat. His face was long with high cheekbones, well-defined cheeks and heavy brows. He was one classy piece of ass, and his MG convertible was sitting out on the forecourt smoking like a rainy Fourth of July. Nate got a feeling God was being good to him for a change—if he could just find some way to unwrap the gift he was being given. Nate snapped down the lid of the laptop he was concealing beneath the counter; eBay could wait. He stepped out from behind the till and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He look a good long look out through the glass door and tapped a smoke out of the pack. He could smell it, the weak, warm, sweet scent of a normal, healthy man—part of him recoiled, wanting more, wanting the musk of wolf-blood. "It's fucked," Nate said unsympathetically, with a nod in the direction of the car. "Are you a mechanic?" snapped the cute suit. Nate snorted. "Think y'have to be a mechanic to know it's fucked?" The suit drew himself up tall, and he had the 'tall' to do it with, took one look over to the car's fairly convincing impression of Mount Vesuvius, and sighed all his outrage back out again. His shoulders slumped. And that was pretty much when Nate decided he liked the guy as well as fancied him. It 104


would have been a pity to see a thousand odd dollars worth of suit walking around on some kind of nickel and dime man who couldn't see the truth when it spat in his eye. Besides, Nate had gone a-roving because he wasn't going to play beta wolf to his old Uncle Dill anymore, so he sure wasn't going to do it for some leftover from the yuppie era. "Is there a hotel nearby?" the man finally asked in a terse but passably civil tone of voice. "In town, about ten miles, but I don't have a car and the taxi doesn't run this late." Nate reached back and, pulling a lighter from the display by the register, lit his cigarette. Before he took a puff he drew a little of the stale air of the shop in and over his tongue, he could taste it—very faint but as unmistakable as boar taint— the man was responding to him. Then he drew in a deep puff. If anything was going to happen he needed to knock those lupine senses back a bit before they rejected a willing man for just not being dog enough. He leaned back against the counter and took in that first delicious drag deep into his lungs—hoping the old wolfy vigor was going to keep him out of an oxygen tent in his old age. He needed the obfuscating smoke more than the nicotine, but he wasn't in a hurry to do without either. "Are you allowed to smoke in here?" "Nope." But that was kinda rude, and here he was wanting to make friends and all. "The owner never really comes by," Nate added. "And we haven't seen the manager in months. So I guess they don't have to know." 105


The man shrugged, pulled out one of those super fancy cell phones, and flipped it open. He looked at the glowing display a while—probably coming to terms with the fact that everybody he knew lived somewhere on the far, far, civilized coasts of these United States and none of those little bars was lit up anyway—and then snapped it closed. "So the taxi doesn't run this late?" "There's but one cab, and if you call Bob and wake him up at this time of night he won't come tonight, and he won't come in the morning just for spite." Nate blew a smoke ring, nice and tight, and watched it wobble across the room and fade away. He scratched his chest idly, which was easy to do as he hadn't bothered with a shirt. All he had on was a pair of cut off jeans that had frayed to just the far side of decent. Nate wasn't too bothered by showing skin, getting seen. He could almost match this guy's height but had the muscular breath and golden tan to go with it. His whole appearance was designed to attract a little attention, highlighted hair in a faux-hawk that fell almost to his waist at the back and dark wrap-around shades hooked over his front pocket. This far out in the country it helped to put what you had in the window so you could smell out who took an interest. It was pretty much the only way to know when you were cruising rednecks. "Look, Mr..." the stranger began. Mister, that was interesting. So was the way the suit's eyes both flinched and lingered over just how much Nate had on display. Nate swayed grudgingly to standing fully upright, and dug in his pockets. 106


"Until come about nine you're pretty fucked, too," he said. "So you can sit here or you can hang in my trailer; it's out back. Help yourself to a beer, watch the TV, whatever. It'll be easy to get a tow and a mechanic in the morning." He tossed the keys to his place, which the man fumbled for, but caught. "Should I, uh, move my vehicle out of the way? I wouldn't want to block the pumps," he said. "I'll do that, Mr..." "Parish, Steven Parish. Um, are you quite sure..." "Hell, car that size I could probably pick it up and carry it." "No, I mean about staying in your home. I could just wait here, um, somewhere." He looked around the glaring lit, but less than ample, interior of the gas station. It dated from a time when gas stations pretty much only sold gas. There was a desultory rank of largely date-expired snack food, a normal domestic refrigerator full of beer and, but that and an open expanse of scuffed linoleum exhausted the entertainment potential of the place. "Well, Mr. Steve," Nate said patiently. "I've worked midnight to eight in this goddamn store for almost a year now and I can tell you it starts out dull and gets duller by the minute. You go catch some TV, cadge a drink or a spell of rest and I'll get you that cab when my shift's done and dig out the number for a tow-truck to boot. We're not a full service setup here; you'll need your Tonka toy taken on into town for fixing." "Well if you're sure..." "You can call me Nate." "Nate, then. Nathaniel, is it?" 107


"Only to my Mom and that's only 'cause she knows I don't like it. The place is 'round back, you help yourself." Steven hesitated, seeming confounded by what was really a pretty straightforward offer. Okay, one with a half-thought out ulterior motive—there was that. But Steven finally muttered, "Okay. Thanks." He went out and got a few things from his car and headed around the side of the station where the trailer was easy enough to find— there not being another structure for miles. Nate leaned back on the counter and sucked smoke deep into his lungs, trying to ignore what his old Mom would say about him taking the habit up again. Trying to hide a smoking habit when your Mom's a werewolf had been pretty much impossible—if he hadn't been such a dumb kid he would have realized that. But after a few moments of self-deprecating nostalgia his thoughts naturally drifted to just what he might be able to get up to with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Lithesome back in that trailer, given half a chance. He looked around the station and wondered just how much trouble he'd get in if the place was trashed by thieves while he went AWOL. Perhaps in reaction to his family's relaxed attitude to employment, education or just about any institution, Nate liked to think of himself as the reliable type. It was almost four in the morning when he finally figured he had already been far more conscientious than this piss-ant minimum wage job could possibly justify. He scribbled a note for Jessy, who would arrive at eight—and to any unfortunate motorist without a credit card who might call in before then. Just this once he was going to finish early and he sure hoped he had a 108


good reason. Maybe it had been a mistake to give the richboy enough time to go cold—or as cold as was possible right now. He locked everything up tight and tucked his laptop under his arm. His main source of income was a combination of some online schemes, eBay trading, stock photography and a running a little gang of paid forum posters. Working a low paying but pretty undemanding night job at the gas station meant he could cobble together a more regular living wage and provided a rent-free crib to do that living in. It all left the days open for roaming, true-form, in the remnants of woods that straggled around the town. Some days Nate felt suspended halfway between the evolutionary past and the digital future. Time was, his folks had made sure it wasn't a comfortable place to be. They never understood why he didn't get some job or scam, get some girl pregnant and get on with living what most of the pack seemed happy to call a life. And for all his frustration what was he doing now he'd left? Even less than that. Fuck it. He had his own crib now, and for a change he wasn't going to be alone in it. He cracked open the trailer door. Angst could wait if flesh was on offer. The cool, flickering light of the TV splayed over the scene. Steven lay on his back on the small sofa with his leg hooked over the arm. His shoes and jacket were off and a single button was undone as a belated concession to the continuing heat wave. His arm was thrown back in an improvised pillow and his head lolled to one side. Give the length of his lanky body and the 109


small dimensions of the couch it could hardly be comfortable. Trailer Adonis, by the light of the TV. Nate stowed his computer away in the kitchen cabinet, and then opened the small refrigerator. Even that brief wash of cool air was welcome. He wrapped his hands around two cold bottles of beer. Getting beer in glass bottles cost a little more but he liked the feel of them—the second best thing God made to fit in a man's hand. He flipped the lids off using the edge of the Formica counter and strolled over to the sleeping man, crouching down beside him. Up close, Steven's face seemed almost gaunt, with high cheeks and deep sunk eyes like an old Italian painting. He looked more handsome this way, less self-conscious. Laying the cool bottle against Steven's arm, Nate startled him awake. "You could have used the bed," Nate said. "Here, take this—the heat is killing." "Thanks." Steven reached out groggily, fumbling for the bottle. "Sorry," he mumbled by way of an excuse. "I'd been driving most of the day and night." He swung his legs to the floor and took a deep, thirsty drink. Nate watched Steven's pale throat work, feeling a sort of possessive thrill already. God, he hoped he didn't cock this up; it'd been too long. Finally Steven dropped the bottle, and gave a satisfied sigh. "Thanks for that. You know, I didn't want to put you out of your bed." "I was at work anyway." "Well, but, now you're not." 110


There was something cute about his manner. Beneath his citified appearance, Steven was a careful, almost bashful, sort of man. Nate could tell he wouldn't be the sort that needed to posture or have power over someone just to feel secure. He was beginning to understand what his Mom saw in human men. "You still wouldn't have to put me out of the bed, if you didn't want to." Nate gave Steven an appraising look, wondering just how obvious he was going to have to be, but it seemed to be getting through. "Do you do this often, Nate? Give a passing stranger a drink and proposition them?" "Cost of beer these days, they only get a beer if'n I really like them." Nate grinned, starting to feel something promising between them. "So, what now?" Steven still seemed nervous and awkward, out of his element. But Nate was more than willing to take the lead. He felt it as they passed through the tipping point—this was going to happen. "It seems to me that you've got an awful lot of clothes on, for a start," he said. Steven seemed a little uncertain but he stood convulsively. "Oh, well then how about this?" He unbuttoned his shirt with clumsy fingers, laying it over the arm of the couch. Then the trousers, tighty-whiteys underneath Nate noted, and even—with noticeable thoroughness—his socks and wristwatch were added to the pile. Steven held out his hands in a gesture somewhere between 'so there' and 'now what?' 111


Now he knew for sure that it was on, Nate wasn't about to hurry. Even up close and backlit Steven had a long, lean body—not muscular but not soft and with a cock to match. Nate tipped back his head and chugged his beer in one long go. Then he stood, still holding the bottle and undid the fly of his old jean-shorts and let them drop. That was all he needed to do to be naked. He didn't have much need to be bashful. Between a little training out back and the long runs he took in wolf-form his body was effortlessly muscular, rounded and tanned all over. Some of the built up muscles were in odd places for a human athlete, but nothing anyone would notice if they didn't already know what they were looking for. He took a deep breath in, barely scenting anything over a subtle fog of smoke and alcohol. Tension started to build up inside him. That's right, brain. Ignore the vomeronasal organ; listen to the cock. He nodded over to the bed. Steven turned and walked ahead of him through the tidy but confined space of the old trailer. His spine was a sinuous shadow, his ass tight to the point of non-existence atop long, lean thighs. Nate stifled a deep growl, he want to have this—to possess it. Steven glanced back, quickly, as if unsure Nate would be following. By the side of the bed Nate came up behind Steven, stopped him from turning. They were of a height, Nate felt his own cock already half hard and thick enough to satisfy any man slide against Steve's ass.

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"Why don't you tell me what you want?" Nate asked, he ran the mouth of his empty beer bottle down Steven's pale shoulder. "Why don't you just show me," Steven whispered in reply. And at that moment Nate knew he didn't have to worry— this one was going to be juuuust right. He held the neck of the empty beer bottle up to his mouth, wetting the neck with spit along with the ball of his thumb. Then, reaching down, he guided it between Steven taut buttocks. He stroked down his thumb, rubbing and circling Steven's hole, and then pressing in. "I don't know if you're ready for what I've got," he mused, sliding his broad thumb slowly in and out, circling. He eased in the narrow smooth neck of the bottle. "I'm a good deal bigger than this." He turned the bottle slowly, reaching around to place his other hand flat on Steven's lean stomach. Steven felt smooth, slim but somehow soft, shut up doing some kind of office job while Nate was out in the woods hunting for what still passed as game in these parts. Nate pulled the smooth glass back and set it aside. Steven didn't reply, he just leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the trailer wall, spreading his feet a little further apart—not much interested in foreplay it seemed. Nate felt a satisfied smile curled his lips. He reached down under the bed and quickly pulled out a condom and lube. He prepared himself, letting the anticipation arc up through his body. He tore open the packet and rolled the condom down over his thick, aching cock and rubbed the slick lube over the top. 113


Steven wasn't fooling him. City boy might be used to taking charge of all sorts of high-powered situations, but right now he was tense, fingers clutching at the wall and whole body wound tight. Nate wiped his hand on his own thigh then reached forward. He stroked down Steven's long torso, thin enough to betray a ripple of ribs, narrow waist... Leaning over, Nate brushed his lips dryly over Steven's angular shoulder, feeling the tickling ends of his collar length hair. "You seem to be in a bit of a hurry," he whispered. "Do you want me to change my mind?" Anything but that. Nate leaned in, positioning his cock against that unambiguously offered rear. He felt Steven's lean body braced beneath him. With one hand he positioned his cock, tentatively urging it forward. Steven's body gave grudgingly. They slid and sealed together, tight. The sensation of that first creeping, deep thrust flowed through him slowly as he kept tight rein on his impulses. Steven pushed his arms rigid and straight, arching his back and pressing back until they were locked together. Nate reached around his left hand, still wet with lube, and grasped Steven's cock, raised up hard and long. He kept his body still. Feeling Steven's arched back against his stomach and chest, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He worked Steven's cock systematically, fingers tight as he pulled up, looser as he slipped down—slowly at first, but then faster. Steven shivered beneath him. His hand worked mercilessly, but his body focused on the feeling of that tight ass squeezing his own cock, tight and 114


warm as the muscle shifted and clenched around its root. Steven's cock was hard and upright in his palm, responding... "No, I'll..." Steven protested, shifting his feet. Only then did Nate relent. Keeping Steven's cock gripped in one hand, he started to fuck the man, short half-strokes pushing all the way in each time. He squeezed his hand tight, tight and he grunted, pushing faster curtailed pumping thrusts. He felt himself swollen hard, straining the confines of the fragile condom. He pounded hard, pushing Steven forward so that his elbows landed against the wall. Sweat slid between their bodies. It beaded and began to trickle down his stomach, a peculiar counterpoint to the hot, crude rhythm of the rut building inside him. He thrust hard, feeling Steven jerk, coming and wilting in his hand. He ground deep, turning Steven and pushing him face down across the bed. Bracing his feet back he drove hard into Steven, biting down on the man's shoulder with a growl. His hands under Steven's armpit clutched at the covers. He felt the surge of lust, of mastery, of completion. Coming wetly, he spilled out and collapsed forward. In the minutes afterward his body grew calmer, colder and heavier. A gauzy mist fell over his mind, dulling his sated senses. Steven shifted under him and Nate rolled aside. Dawn was breaking through the shabby curtains and he suddenly felt tired and empty. Part of him expected Steven to just leave; somehow, even having nowhere to go, but instead the guy pulled up those long legs and eased over in the narrow bed, pulling up the blanket. 115


"I don't know about you but I could actually use an hour or two of sleep," Steven said. Nate accepted the invitation, sliding in beside Steven, close in the small space with the quilt settling over them. Reaching one arm around, he felt Steven settle in against him, facing away but spooning close. All was quiet except for a whisper of breeze and the slight creaking as the first rays of the sun hit the trailer. Gradually Nate's dulled sense began to clear, the smell of sex dense and sour. He grimaced and eased his hip and legs, a loose tangle, into a more comfortable position and tried to force his body to accept, his mind to rest. Not wolf. No, not wolf—but it will do, it is more than you had yesterday and more than I deserve. Pray to still have this tomorrow. Bloody instincts, always howling for the moon. "That taxi really not run at night?" Steven asked drowsily. "If you'd offered Bob enough money, he'd of come." "That's what I thought," Steven said. "On the whole, I'd rather you did." Oh, very droll. "You staying in these parts?" Even asking felt like a concession, a weakness that was hard to admit. But tomorrow was his one night off for the week and he knew how he'd like to spend it. "A while," Steven said softly. "A while at least." And then they were both quiet as the day came to life slowly all around them. The quite satisfaction of the moment was broken by a sharp rapping at the door. Nate tensed up all over. Logic suggested it was Jessy with some problem, maybe lost her keys again, but there was something rather too 116


imperious in the cadence of the rap for it to be the diffident teen. He slid from the narrow bed, Steven shifting and looking up blearily as Nate clambered over him. He cracked the door. Fuck. If there was one thing he sure wasn't expecting right now it was this, his mother, the Kerry family matriarch, standing on the doorstep. She should have been two-hundred miles away on the family lands. "Open up," she said perfunctorily from the side of her mouth not clenching a cigarette stub, balancing a paper supermarket bag under each arm and basically kicking the door open in any case. Nate stumbled back, bemused and suddenly aware of the shabbiness of the trailer, the laundry strewn here and there with the other refuse of a bachelor life—and then, belatedly, of the naked man in his bed. Mom dropped the sacks on the small bench that separated the small kitchen aisle for the rest of the space in the oneroom trailer. "This boy of yours like bacon," she said. "Or just sausage?" With a dry laugh she started to rummage through the few Formica-fronted cupboards, in what was destined to be a fruitless search for a frying pan. Nate's brain was rather struggling to keep up, a common experience around Mom but one he had thought he had outrun, if not outgrown. "Mom, I've been meaning to tell you..." "That you're a faggot. What kind a mother would I be if I didn't know that already? I known it since you were yea high." She gestured vaguely at some height below her waist. 117


"I didn't even know myself 'til I was a couple of inches taller than you." "Meh, you never was observant." Nate rolled his eyes; he grabbed Steven's clothes and tossed them to him, leaving him bashfully fumbling to dress beneath the blanket. Not that Mom was copping a look, she was too busy casting the evil eye at his one cooking utensil, a battered aluminum saucepan just big enough to fit an egg and currently containing a mixture of charred remains and blossoming fungus. "Steven's got to get into town, for work," Nate said, clambering into his old cut offs and a Tee. "I brought the truck," Mom said, tossing him the keys. Nate caught them and put them down on the counter. "I'll borrow a friend's car," he said. "You know what Dill'll do if he finds out you did anything for me." She was acting like the last six months had never happened. God alone knew what this omened, but, tensing his jaw, Nate knew he dare not get into it with an outsider around. Even a normal conversation with Mom had a tendency to end up with shouting and throwing things, and challenging Uncle and leaving the pack, those weren't normal things. On of the reasons he'd lit out straight afterward was to avoid having to tell his Mom why he'd done something that stupid. Now she was acting like everything was hunky dory, like nothing had happened at all. "Dill will pretend he didn't even notice I was gone," Mom said with disdain. "And the rest'll follow his lead as usual." Which was probably true, and wasn't that just the problem. 118


She could get away with ignoring the rules herself, which meant she just kept going along with it happening to everyone else—even her own son. Steven was shoving his feet into his shoes without bothering to unlace them, but with tight, tailored brogues it wasn't really working. Still, he hobbled out of the trailer after Nate, flapping to get his jacket on. Closing the door, Nate turned. Steve was no disappointment by daylight. Dark stubble peppered his strong jaw, but his eyes and manner were tentative—civilized. Not wolf. He probably wasn't used to Maury-style dramatics in the morning. "You go give Jessy, she's the dark haired girl who'll be working at the station now, give her your key and tell her your car's in the shed and I need to borrow her van," Nate said. "Then I can take you to Neil the mechanic and he'll come tow it in, and either he'll have a loaner or I'll drop you where you need to go. I just gotta have a quick word with my Mom here, so do that and I'll be right out before you're ready to go." "This Jessy, she'll just take my word..." Steven sounded uncertain. "Sure she will, you go on." Nate watched him go, and then stepped back into the trailer. It was hard to say, but true: "Mom, you shouldn't oughtta be here. When the pack turned me out, that's the end of it, you know that's how it works." He stood back by the door, watching her scrubbing the old pot in the sink. 119


"You need some more detergent, son." That was Mom all over; she was world class at just ignoring things she didn't want to deal with. "This isn't just something you can ignore away, Mom. It's done. It's over. I couldn't take Dill a second longer, I challenged him, and I won. But the pack turned me out, they wouldn't have me—they'd rather have the abusive fucking son-of-a bitch even when he was crawling on the ground at my feet." "You should have talked to me first, boy. I'd have told you that would happen. The alpha's gotta be the sire, he's gotta be with the women. You weren't fooling them any more than you were fooling me. It's about the kiddies, you know. It was you and Dill's boy Travis that brought this all up too early when you couldn't win." Anger boiled up in Nate but he wasn't giving in to that anymore. He took a deep breath. "Mom, I love you, but you and the whole clan are hypocrites. You went and had me off a human daddy, not the dog your brother picked for you. Dill will fuck any girl in the pack that's not his kin, he's got a score of kids and all he contributes to raising them is beatings. Most of the women in the family claim welfare saying their kids have no father they can name and it's true. He's no father no matter how you look at it. Not to any of them, not to Travis who wants an education, he wants to do more. And no matter what that sick fuck said, he's just a kid and I was just looking out for him. It's screwed up, Mom, the whole place is screwed up, and you and the rest of them keep it that way. I'm out of it. All the way out and no returns." 120


Mom finally put down the pot and turned to him, damp hands on her hips. "We're wolves, Nathaniel. And maybe you're only half it, but it's still part of what you are. And as for Travis, he's got a lot of stupid ideas—wants to get a degree, wants to be a picture painter, wants to go about wearing eye-liner. You shouldn't have encouraged him 'cause it wasn't good for him and it sure wasn't good for you. You made a fool move. You're not going to make it on your own." "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. But that's exactly what I'm going to do. And you need to leave me to it, loosen up the apron strings for God's sake because I'm all grown up and I take after Daddy—whoever the fuck he was. And I'm still wolf enough to say this. I was turned out, I'm on my own and this is my den—my place. You don't stay in it if I don't want you to." Mom was a canny wolf; a powerful woman in her own way—in that she always managed to do thing her own way without crossing the big dog. Facing her, Nate felt his heart beating hard, but he stood up tall. My place. Not much, but mine, alone. His Mom bristled, wiping her hands, waiting for him to go on, say something she could twist around and use against him, but Nate just stood. I may be a lone wolf now, but this little place is mine. Mine and I've lived here, slept here, fucked here, made it a den and I rule it. I am the alpha here, at least. Her eyes actually slid to the side, not meeting his gaze, but not dropping down and deferring. "We'll talk about it when you come back." 121


Nate just sighed and turned away. "When I come back, you won't be here," he said. But this time he was the one who didn't meet her eyes. No matter how he tried, he couldn't quite tell her what to do and expect it to work. Mom was the only one allowed to just do things her own way. The rest had to toady up to Dill, a big, stubborn sort of man, but brutal and stupid with it. Well, no how, no more, no. Not for me. He got out of the trailer and strode away, but paused before turning the corner, closed his eyes for a minute and opened his fisted hands. Because he had left it behind, and she would only drag him back in if he let her. He met up with Jessy and Steven standing outside the open-fronted shed. "...Been wondering where it came from," Jessy said, tossing her head with painfully obvious flirtation. Jessy was a slim, model-beautiful teen with long dark hair. She had just enough awareness of her looks to be holding out for a better prospect than Gnoxville had to offer. No wonder she was latching onto Steven. "Hey Jessy," Nate called. "Is it cool to borrow your van?" She turned to him with ill-concealed disappointment. "Sure, Nate. But could you drop it off at my Dad's—he needs it for shifting some stuff to the shop and it'll save Sis from having to drop him out here to get it." "Sure thing." Jessy and her folks always seemed to be swapping vehicles, and pretty much any other sort of property, around between them in a complex, frequently renegotiated pattern that seemed to magically turn their few assets into enough 122


for everyone. She dug in her pockets and pulled out the key on a big fob in the shape of a hot pink peace sign and handed it over. "You'll be able to get back out here somehow?" "Oh sure, you know me." "I know you," Jessy said tartly. "I know that nobody knows how you get all around without a car, or how you pay for most of your stuff on what Old Fred pays us. That's what I know about you." She leaned over to Steven to say, "You watch out for this one," before sauntering back to the station, swaying her hips in a way that suggested she knew she was being watched. Which Steven, as it happened, was. He is actually checking out the jailbait, bloody hell. Nate studied Steven's profile and realized he'd have to mark his latest catch down as probably bi, or at the very least the 'bi now, gay later' sort. Nate might not have Steven's character quite nailed down, but he was pretty sure a conventional looking considerate sort of guy like him wouldn't actually rob the cradle. So, Jessy was a little too young to be competition, but the marriage-ables of the town would be on the man like flies at a picnic. It would be funny if it didn't worry him a bit; some of them were nice enough girls, in their way. Steven was still looking at the gas station but there was nothing there now but a shiny glass frontage reflecting the road out front and the birch windbreak on the other side. "Penny for them," Nate said. "What?" Steven turned, a tentative smile curling his mouth. "I was just thinking how I was sure my time in a small 123


town like this was bound to be a little dull. It was sort of a punishment assignment you know. But so far, I don't have any complaint." "Well, that's good to know." Nate headed to the side of the station where Jessy's old Ford Escort was parked. It was a little worrying to realize how possessive he felt about a man he'd met just the previous night. As he slid into the driver's seat, Steven clambered in the other side, looking like he was trying to hover over the grubby seat upholstery rather than sit on it. He was still fumbling with the defective seat belt as Nate floored it and skidded out around back to the gravel road, cutting across the grassy verge and straight onto the highway as he flicked the radio on. Sheryl Crow was booming out as they sped toward town and into a big, bright Saturday morning.

124


2. A little later that day Nate was still feeling pretty fine. After going by the mechanic, he'd left Steven at that 80s apartment block by the river, mostly untenanted even now, Gnoxville not really being an 'apartment' kind of town even when you weren't talking peach-colored stucco. Steven was busy dealing with a pile of boxes and starting to set up what was apparently meant to be a 'home office'. Nate started to feel a bit surplus to requirements, restless ... and thirsty. Steven, it seemed, was not to be distracted until every device was correctly plugged, wired, installed and tested, so Nate went to drop off the van, which involved getting caught in a long conversation with Papa Collier, to the extent that he was required to say 'uh-huh' periodically for over an hour and refuse half a dozen offers of a lift. Nate held his wrap-around sunglasses in his hand, toying with the hinges. "I'm not in a hurry to get back," Nate said. "I'll just drop into town, you know. Go to the barber or something." "Go to that that hair-dresser girl you mean," Papa said jovially. "You know some of the old farts go on about you with hair down to your ass, but I say—go for it. Wish I'd enjoyed my hair better when I had it, ah, those were the days. But how will you get back out to the trailer after?" "I'll walk it; I do it all the time." "That's why you're in good shape, kid," Papa—as everyone called him—said, hitching up his pants, which were more pinned in place by the over-flow of his stomach than held up by their belt. "Walking, I don't walk anywhere, you know." 125


"Well, you have a car, Papa. No need to." "I have four; it's just that only one of them works right now." He laughed. "But, you, Nate, have a future. I can tell. You just wait a couple of years and let Jessy get some kind of sense, and we'll see." Nate stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. Where the hell did that come from? God knew what Papa was seeing in him but he sure as hell wasn't comfortable with it. "I hardly think..." Papa finally seemed content to let him go. Nate had the funny feeling their whole discourse had been designed to get around to that point, and now that Papa had imparted it, Nate would be allowed to escape. "I can see it in your eyes," Papa added. "But you do need to do something about those clothes if you want to end up with right sort of woman." He ambled up into the house apparently satisfied at having dispensed his advice. Nate sighed, and then headed into town to drop into his favorite of the town's three pubs. The Blarney was a halfhearted attempt at an Irish theme pub run by a Taiwanese family who represented the sum total of Gnoxville's ethnic diversity. The pub had been retrofitted from a glass-fronted store just off the main street, but it still looked like a cross between a hole in the wall bar and dress shop, with open, unfrosted windows and high-hanging fluorescent lighting. Between the big window and the bright lighting, after dark you never had to guess who got there ahead of you. It was coming up to lunchtime and as Nate came up to the door he saw a flash of his reflection in the glass: tall, tanned 126


in his denim shorts and a faded out black Tee with a memory of a wild turkey logo on it. His hair was cut by Denise, the blonde hairdresser's notion of a 'mullet Mohawk', a little short sided but sweeping back into a tail that didn't quite reach down to his ass, but was on the way and all highlighted in straw blond. It was a bit much, he had to admit, but Denise didn't get many chances to experiment in this town so he didn't like to say no. The look was completed by an old pair of Ray bans which he lifted off as he stepped inside. Papa kind of had him thinking about it. He liked his look well enough, he liked his body, he liked the rare occasions when he could find another guy who liked it, too. But when the hell was he going to grow up? When his wolf senses wouldn't let him settle down with a normal human, where was he going to get the family he so desperately wanted? In the space of a few steps his mood had deflated to the kind of black depression he hadn't felt, not once, since leaving his natal pack behind. Perhaps, in the end, he'd have to abase himself to some other clan to try and get taken in. In a reflexive response he pulled out one of the loose cigarettes shoved into his pocket. But Li-Ling snapped from behind the bar. "You don't smoke in here, Nate. You know that!" With a sigh he shoved it back. With one intake of breath he smelled the two strangers. There were half a dozen locals up at the bar, Old Hank and some of the workers from the corn canning factory on their lunch break. There were several chipped, round Formica tables along the window front, and if 127


he hadn't been looking at his own damned reflection he woulda seen the men sitting there well before now. Uncle Dill would always say it, half a wolf is no kind of wolf at all. He ought to know what was around him all the time not be burying it in smoke and liquor. But what else could he do trying to live up close to people who aren't wolf, without going loco? They were dressed in what might count as casual in the city. Clean, blue, factory-faded jeans riding low like the girls wore them and shirts printed with bright retro patterns. Little Raff, Li-Ling's son, was dropping the Blarney's take on a panini in front of each of them. It was really more like a squashed hamburger with a lot of cheese in it. One of the men, the line of his head stubble showing his receding hair line, made some kind of comment that made Raff laugh nervously. Then his younger companion gave him a nudge, looking over at Nate. Nate scowled. Raff had sprouted up, and towered over his mother, but he was still only fifteen and shouldn't be getting any crap from customers. The younger guy came over the bar just as Nate sat down on the stool nearest the door. "Ma'am," he said, to get Li-Ling's attention. "We were wondering if you might know where we could find a Mr. Steven Parish. He just moved to Gnoxville but we are not sure where he might be staying." She just gave him a look, then turned to Nate, "You're here first," she said in that abrupt way she had. "You want?" "Coffee, strong as you can make it." 128


"You drink it too strong," she said as she ambled off around the corner where the percolator sat. He could tell from the noise she was making that there wasn't a pot on so she would be at it for a while. Raff came back around behind the bar. "She doesn't know," he replied—used to blithely answering for his mother from the time her English wasn't very good. Karl was the cannery worker sitting closest, he swiveled towards the stranger. "Just 'cause this is a small town doesn't mean we all know every damn thing that happens. You think you can just walk up to whoever to find this guy?" The other stranger was coming up to the bar, Nate looked over at Karl without amusement or approval. "Mr. Parson is at the Grove Street apartments. They don't have a reception anymore and his phone's not on. But if you head over now you'll probably find him in." The older guy gave Karl a cocky 'so there' sort of look. To which, Karl replied with a muttered "faggot", shifting forward on his stool so he'd be able to get to his feet quickly. Nate eased to his feet first. "Lighten up, Karl. Don't make me get Li-Ling out here to sort you out. You know she doesn't like bad language in her place." "It ain't bad language, it's just the truth." "Why don't you bring that coffee over to the table for me, Raff," Nate said calmly. He raised his arm to subtly separate the canners and the strangers and guide the two men back to their interrupted lunch. "I can show you the way over once you're done, it's on my way." 129


With a somewhat fixed smile he saw them seated, and then dragged over a plastic chair to put himself between the two groups with his back to the canners. Karl assuaged his ego by muttering 'faggots' a few more times. He wasn't really that bad a guy but he started drinking too early in the day and didn't how to stop—with drinking or anything else. It reminded Nate of his aunt's little bantam rooster that stood up to anything from dogs to bicycles, sure he could take them on. "So you've met up with our Steven," the older guy said. "I'm Gary, this is Perrin," the younger one interjected quietly reaching over to shake hands awkwardly over the table. Perrin didn't offer his hand, being too busy attempting to vivisect his cooling panini with a plastic knife and fork. "We work for the same company as Steven," Gary added, his gaze flicking up bashfully at Nate from behind a shaggy, carefully styled fringe. "And we thought we'd come down and help him settle in to his new, ah, assignment." "So how did you meet him?" Perrin added rather coldly, almost as if Gary hadn't spoken. It was Li-Ling who hobbled over with the coffee, despite Raff's best attempts to wrest it from her. "It's no trouble for you, Nate-aniel," she said, pronouncing his full name carefully—though she never got it quite right. She turned to Gary and Perrin. "He fix our computer right up, and put on a fire-wall to stop virus." With a decisive nod, she headed back to the bar. Nate was pretty sure she didn't really get the idea of viruses and 130


software, but the computer was working again and that was good enough for her. Nate called his thanks after her, and then turned back to Perrin. He was a large, but soft and fussy looking man with rimless glasses. He looked at Nate with a slightly sardonic angle to his brows and a mouth that was probably frozen that way from last time the wind changed. "His car broke down outside of town last night," Nate said blandly. "I gave him a lift." He sipped his coffee, just as strong as he liked it. Li-Ling would be going out back now to add more water to the pot in case anyone else would want a cup. "Um, that was good of you," Gary added in after Perrin met this explanation with nothing but silence. "It was no trouble." "So, ah, we thought we would throw Steven a homewarming party. Is there somewhere we could pick up a few bottles of wine? He got sort of stuck with a few months work out here after an argument with the boss about..." "I don't think he needs to know about that," Perrin interjected. The two descended into a muttered conversation. Nate just sighed. He leaned back in his chair and gestured to Raff, who came over. "Could you go and see if your mother still has that box of Aussie shiraz, will you? This might be your chance to shift some of it if she'll knock it down a bit." "He's a nice looking kid," Perrin commented as Raff left. "He's fifteen," Nate replied with no particular expression. 131


"He looks older." "He isn't." Nate looked straight at the man. Perrin's expression grew even more sour at the implied reprimand. "It's not like I was planning to take him out back and give him an education," he said acidly. Nate surveyed him coolly wondering what sort of man Steven really was if these were his friends. Li-Ling came out carrying the box herself, despite her exasperated son's attempts to rest it from her. Nate sprang to his feet and managed to get it from her, settling it carefully on the rickety table. "You want that?" Li Ling asked. "You take it, no charge." "I couldn't accept that," Nate said. He understood how LiLing worked, she was always trying to make things even, so obviously she thought she owed him for something. "Oh yes, your job for Raff typing on the computer, he made enough to buy the new fuel pump for his sister's car. It is very good to have a job for him where I know where he is." Well that explained it. Raff was one of his most prolific forum posters. Webmasters desperate to get activity on their sites paid him and he in turn got kids like Raff to go on and start discussions. Raff took to it well because no matter what the topic, he liked to get online and learn all about it so nobody would know he wasn't a real enthusiast signing on just for fun. "Oh, no, Li-Ling, he earned that money working very hard. Raff's a good worker. Besides, this is for the gentlemen here." He lifted the flap and pulled out a bottle. "Rosemount," he said. "Two-thousand-and-one." 132


"You want me to give them a good price?" Li Ling asked skeptically. "It's for a new resident, at least for a few months, Steven Parson. You'll like him. So you should give them a good price, for him." "You've had them a long time," Raff said. "What did you pay for them?" "I pay six dollars each. I give them to you at cost. For this Steven if you like him." For all that she looked like a very traditional woman Li-Ling was the observant sort. "I'll take them all, but at five dollars each," Perrin replied. Karl piped up, "Give her the six, faggot. You can spare it." Li-Ling spun on him. "You get out. You don't say words like that in my place. Out!" In a moment the belligerent canner deflated. He ducked his head and even managed to mutter a sorry as he shuffled out. His workmates laughed until she turned on them too. "You, too. You shouldn't let your friend speak like that, and lunch is over. You should be at work. You should work hard and get better jobs!" They were all still laughing as they dutifully filed out after Karl. Satisfied with her exercise of authority Li Ling turned to Perrin. "You pay me six," she declared. "If you buy all twelve I give you one dollar off the total." She ran the sum effortlessly in her head. "That is seventy-one dollars. A good price." 133


"Make it seventy and it's a deal," Perrin conceded. He was pulling a credit card of some kind from his pocket. "We don't take those," she said. The Blarney was still a cash business. Despite Raff's endless cajoling, Li-Ling did not like the charges that came with offering debit card transactions. Especially as she would be the first in the town proper, so getting the service installed would involve running new cable all the way in from the nearest current access point at the gas station's self service pump. Perrin's face froze as he foresaw the humiliation of not even being able to pay for the lunch he had half eaten. "You put that on the tab for me, and I'll settle it next week," Nate said, "and get Mr. Perrin here to pay you that extra dollar." Li-Ling laughed. "Okay," she said. "But you tell this Steven he needs to bring cash when he comes here. Proper money." She was still rubbing her fingers together to suggest real bills as she went laughing back to the bar. She shouted back, "You carry that box for Nate-anial, Raff." Raff sat at the table, smiling at the men who were finishing their lunch. "She paid five dollars each," he whispered confidentially. **** Despite the foolishness of it, slender Raff did insist on carrying the box for them, and under Li-Ling's gaze Nate had to allow it. Once she had told her son what to do, that was what he did. Nate did manage to stop Raff from inviting 134


himself along for the ride, but had him pace the box in the small, immaculately clean trunk next to a roadside emergency kit and what looked like a wicker picnic basket of all things. Perrin's attitude seemed rather different now that Nate had saved him from financial embarrassment. He took them out to his shiny brand new mini cooper and then Nate rode shotgun and showed them the way as Gary knelt in the back with an elbow on each front seat so his head was pretty much between them. Nate couldn't help but think that one sudden touch on the brake and Gary'd be right through the windshield, but he managed to keep his mouth shut on the matter. After all, despite his behavior, Gary was clearly not a kid and he could do what he liked. Nate led them up the stairs. "He'll probably be happy to get a drink," he said. "Last I heard he was pretty pissed about being sent the wrong sort of fax machine." The door to the apartment was ajar. Nate stopped and balanced the box of wine, which he had ended up carrying after all, on his knee as he rapped on the door. But Gary just pushed past. "Stevie-boy," he called out. "The queers are invading." Perrin cast a glance at Nate, as if expecting him to be shocked. Obviously Mom wasn't the only one who thought Nate was pretty damn un-observant. Steven came out of the office with a roll of tape in one hand, scissors in the other and a short black power cord clenched in his teeth. He dropped everything he was carrying onto the coffee table and greeted Gary with a hug, Perrin with a handshake and Nate with an ambiguous gesture that he 135


deflected into taking the box of wine and carrying it through to the kitchen. "Well this isn't too bad," Gary said with false cheer that indicated an apartment furnished in the mid-eighties might well be a fate worse than death. There ensued a degree of milling about, greeting, and catching up. Nate stayed out of it, but made himself useful. The corkscrew on his pocketknife proved to be the only one in the place, but everything else seemed to emerge form the Tardis-like picnic basket, including wine glasses and a cascade of deli goods stacked up on cooler packs. Nate noticed a laptop set up in the office. At a discreet moment he asked Steven if it was set up for internet and if he could use it. He took a distracted nod as permission and logged on. He quickly pulled up a Google spreadsheet of the payments his forum posters were due and shot them out through Paypal, then checked his email and cleared up a few matters, emailing top eBay bidders for his bulk lots of Kinder eggs and Tony Lama boots. He closed it all down and cleaned the cache, emerging not much later to find he had not been much missed. Gary seemed to be coming to the end of a telling of their adventures in getting to Gnoxville that made it seem slightly more arduous than the Lewis and Clark expedition. "They were looking at us like pit bulls would probably look at flamingos that happened to wander into their back yard when..." Gary was saying. "Right on cue ... Nathaniel, is it?" Perrin said. "Nate." 136


"Nate dropped me off here this morning," Steven said, passing him a glass of the red which smelled damn good, and under it Nate started to smell the men—the scent of their reunion, warm and human. God, he needed another cigarette, but this would have to do. "Well, now everything is safely delivered I should probably..." "Oh, but you have to stay!" Gary declared as if someone was trying to steal his latest toy. "Well," Steven said reluctantly. "Nate does have his mother visiting." "Oh God," Nate said as he remembered. And there was no telling if she'd actually decided to leave him in peace, but he wasn't betting on it. "Don't remind me." He drained a good half of his ample glass. "Why don't you hide out here with us?" Perrin said conspiratorially. Nate looked at him suspiciously but the last vestiges of the man's sarcasm seemed to have faded away. Interesting, perhaps Perrin didn't get on so well with his mother either. The seating area was made up of two over-stuffed beige leather sofas facing each other across the glass coffee table that was now laden with food. With Gary and Perrin on the sofa nearest the wall, and Steven on one end of the other, Nate naturally filled the space remaining. He leaned back with a sigh. "Bruschetta?" Gary offered, holding up a plate of some kind of tomato-based massacre over bread. "Sure." Nate took it somewhat reluctantly. 137


**** Much later in the evening, Perrin was telling the tale of the encounter that led to Steven being sent out to Gnoxville to appraise and audit three small businesses that Vert, Inc. had acquired as a corollary of a larger takeover. The three shops, the local newsagent, used car lot and, as it turned out, the gas station, were considered little more than a nuisance to be dispensed with at a profit if possible. Steven was sent to carry out this process after a public argument with his line manager at the merger celebration party. Nate, who had by now drained his glass a number of times, leaned upon the soft arm of the sofa. He had the urge to lean back and rest his legs across Steven's lap but it seemed that 'Mr. Parson' preferred not to make it at all obvious what had happened the previous night. "Pete had had a few," Perrin explained. "And he got going about the boss of the outfit we'd just taken over and whether we should keep him on. And it seemed that he had some opinions in common with our charming friends from the Chinese lady's bar. Now Steven was, at this point, Pete's golden boy—up and coming young executive. But then Steven turns around and calls Pete a bigot loud enough for everyone...." "I'd had a far bit to drink that night myself," Steven added. "Well, I tell you. It had a lot more impact coming from you, than one of the companies few overt queers like me. Pete's mouth absolutely fell open to have his own little yes man turn on him so publicly and vehemently and, and, when 138


Steve had finished the people in the room applauded, including Pete's ostensible boss, Mr. Chapman." "I wish I'd been there," Gary grumbled. "Yes, well," Steven said. "Then he told me to come out here and wind up these companies and think about whether I was going to kiss his ass or hand in my pink slip when I get back. I guess that's what being in the closet gets you, the pressure builds up until the door blows right off." "You never hid it," Gary said. "I mean you let everyone know you were ... not exactly straight." "You think Pete knew?" Steven said. "Everyone saw the way he looked at you." "Yeah, so I wore my rainbow ties from time to time," Perrin said. "But I never brought Gary to the company parties; I still toed the line." "Yeah, well, I let him think I was straight." Perrin sighed. "Okay," he conceded sardonically. "We both suck." "Oh, come on," Gary chided. "Why don't you two fucking cheer up? It not all gloom and doom." "And other than your glorious presence," Steven asked, "What do I have to celebrate?" "Oh, don't be so coy, Steven. I can out two and two together and I don't think it's been all doom and gloom. Your car broke down last night, but Nate dropped you off this morning. And then there was the way that Chinese lady went after the guys when they said faggot like she was thinking of someone in particular. Someone who was in the room." 139


Perrin said, actually blushing as he worked it out. "Oh. How stupid of me. Maybe we do have something to celebrate, then," he added. "Steven and his rural gaydar, apparently fully functioning." "I ... it's a little early to be throwing parties. Which isn't to say..." Steven stalled. He looked across to Nate who merely arched his brow in mute amusement at the poor man's discomfort. Somehow Steven seemed to think that his two good friends finding out about his fling was the equivalent of getting engaged. "And there is something else you two should know," Steven deflected. "Pete kind of said I should spend my time here looking for another position because my next schedule performance review went I get back is going to be pretty ... negative; enough to recommend dismissal." "He what!" Perrin staggered to his feet unsteadily enough to show that he was a bit the worse for wine as well. "We can't put up with that." We? There were bonds between them, despite the different personalities of each man, there was something that bound them together. Was it as simple as sexuality? The queer pack in action? In any case Nate rather envied their obvious amity. Although he got on pretty well with everyone in town there wasn't any person he could really call a friend. "Perrin, I'm going to do it. I'm not like you—I'm not ready to have everyone know. I'm not going to make some big stand for a job I didn't like much in the first place. You don't need to get involved." 140


"But you simply can't let him fire you for this, it is absolutely draconian!" It was quiet Gary who cut through the tension again. He was definitely one of those people who wanted other people to get along. "Perrin, it's late and we've all had a lot to drink. We can leave this 'til tomorrow." He gave a nod of his head in an unsubtle indication that he wanted a word with Perrin in private. "I..." Perrin began. "But this changes everything. Don't ask, don't tell is one thing—but to work for a company that is actually going to fire a man for not being a bigot!" "Perrin, we'll have time to talk it over tomorrow. I think we've already intruded quite enough on Steven and Nate for one evening." "Oh ... right." That suggestion was enough to get through, it seemed. "But you must stay here tonight," Steven said. "Of course. You can take the bedroom. The bed is made up already." "We can't take..." Perrin began. But Gary nudged him, less than subtly and added, "We'll just sort ourselves out in the bathroom and leave you two alone." He all but dragged Perrin and their overnight bags away down the short corridor into which the bathroom and bedroom opened. Gary and Perrin muttered together and it sounded like they went through into the bathroom. Steven looked over with embarrassment. "It's not like I, um, expect that you, um..." 141


Nate leaned back and drained his glass for the, what, fifth or sixth time? And now that he looked at it the glass had a rather wider bowl than was standard and that Aussie wine was a few percent headier than most. That explained the very heavy, sedentary feeling that was pressing him down on the sofa like three g's and rising. "Well, I think I'm a bit too trashed to be walking home in the dark," he said. "So if you want to take advantage, this would be a good time to do it. Not that I'd be complaining, mind." He smiled and sat down the empty glass amongst the refuse of the meal, which prompted Steven to start fussing around with clearing up. Nate left him to it, letting him fill the time while his friends were fussing around in the bathroom and likely to pop out at any moment to see if they could get an eyeful. While Steven was in the kitchen Nate investigated the sofa and was pleased to find it folded out. Standing up cautiously, he found the floor seemed to sway a little. Fuck, Nate—overdoing it like some kid. He pushed the glass coffee table very carefully out of the way and pulled out the folding mechanism of the sofa to sit flat on the ground. It added up to not much more than a meager single mattress but it still looked bloody good right now. Nate crawled onto it and lay face down, his limbs felt very heavy, splayed out on the soft foam mattress. He could already feel his mind settling down into a drowsy fog, thoughts scattering loosely in pre-sleep. There was a spatter of voices and doors opening and closing. Then the light went out. 142


"So just how drunk are you?" Steven asked. "You weren't acting it." "Oh, I'll manage—if you can keep me awake," Nate said with a smile. He'd never been a wild or angry drunk, just got quieter and a bit contemplative—or fell asleep. Not that there was really much chance of that as he felt Steven's hand slide down the small off his back and slip under the loose waistband of his shorts. "Your body is so fine," Steven said very quietly, almost like he was just talking to himself. Nate stretched out, raising up his waist so Steven could reach around and unbutton his shorts, pulling them slowly down. The heat wave was beginning to ebb, but it was still languorously warm, much more natural to be naked than bound even in a token amount of clothing. Steven was smoothing Nate's T-shirt up, almost rolling it up over his shoulders and off. From the way their bodies brushed together Nate could tell he had already undressed on the darkness. There was a luxurious feeling to the drowsy, weariness that weighed down his body and the brush off skin against his back and side. "Nate, do you want me to...?" Steven hand lingered over Nate's ass, the tips of his fingers curling into the crease. The wolf in him muttered and shifted a little in its sleep, but Nate paid it no mind. "Steven, if that's what you want to do this might be one of your few chances. It's not really my thing to be on the receiving end, but I happen to be in the mood. Maybe you need to stock up on the Shiraz, eh?" Nate 143


twisted his head. He could just see Steven sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking down at him. "It's a little hard to believe, you know," Steven said. "What is?" Nate was feeling a little impatient despite his mode. He just wanted Steven to get on with it—see what moves the boy had. "You." Nate frowned, "I'm pretty damn ordinary I assure you." He turned away, uncomfortable with the intensity in Steven's voice. Nate knew he was pretty ordinary really; he was just a grown up run-away, a stray dog. He didn't know what Steven could be seeing in him. Steven stroked the small of Nate's back rhythmically like petting some giant cat. "You are beautiful. And I think there's more to you than you like to show." Steven's hands moved down over his buttocks, down his thighs and then up again, tracing the faint crease under his buttocks. "Are you sure you want this?" "Quite sure." It wasn't hard to guess that Steven didn't do a lot of sleeping around. Nate eased his legs further apart. Steven moved around, a reassuring rustle, reaching for lube and condoms, then climbing onto the bed behind him. The next thing Nate felt was Steven parting his buttocks and a wet tongue slid up from just behind his balls to his ass in one wet stroke. Nate moaned, arching his back. He'd never really felt like this before, the wolf asleep down inside and his body aching, empty, desperate to be fucked. There was a pause, Steven 144


fumbling in the dark, cursing. Nate laughed. He knew the sound of an uncooperative condom. Then Steven was on all fours over him, breathing loud above him. "Now I've got you," Steven said. His head laid down over his laced fingertips, Nate pushed up on his knees. He raised up his ass, feeing his back curve and strain. Steven's fingers curled around Nate's hip. He traced down with one, slick finger, and then the rounded, rubbered tip of his cock was pressing for entry—gentle but insistent. Knowing the others were just in the other room, Nate clenched his jaw and tried to stay silent. His body gave only grudgingly and with slight pain to this unfamiliar touch. Cool, wet, careful, Steven slid down into him. His knee felt weak, sliding on the mattress. "Here." Steven grabbed the cushion off the floor and pushed it under him. Easing Nate down. He felt Steven's cock, hard and intimate inside him, his own barely responding due to the wine, but he didn't care. He let his body relax, then stretched, feeling his thighs and ass tense and grip around the cock that pinned him down. He waited, wanted. Steven's lips brushed his shoulder, drawing the moment out. Then Steven started to slowly ease almost all the way out, and thrust in harder, deeper—enough to hurt a little. Again, and again, faster, thrusting down, hitting a wet, raw spot that made warm waves of visceral pleasure radiate out through Nate's lax body. 145


Panting in the darkness, Steven worked Nate's body with growing passion, even savagery, until he called out as he came, stifling himself too late. "God damn," Steven muttered as he fell forward. "I forgot we weren't alone." They could faintly hear laughter and applause from the bedroom. "Go ask the bastards for one of those blankets," Nate muttered.

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3. In the early morning Nate awoke groggily. Dry-mouthed but feeling tolerably sober, he eased away from Steven, who muttered something incomprehensible. The smell of him welled up from beneath the sheets mingled with sex and the unpleasant musk of long-disused foam mattress. Deep inside, Nate's instincts began to rebel. Not wolf. He sighed, scratching and stretching. Wasn't that always the problem? The part in him that was wolf could only be distracted for so long. It looked, in lover, for something like itself—never fully satisfied by just a man. But where the hell would ever find a man like Steven who was a dog like him? As he slipped out of the bed Steven protested. Leaning over, Nate made his excuses and pulled on his clothes. "You'll come back later?" Steven asked blearily. "I'm working tonight." "Before then?" Nate sighed. "I have to sort out the situation with my Mom. Can't hide from it forever. But I'm not pulling a vanishing act, okay? And if you have a ride you know where to find me from midnight to eight, six days a week." Steven flopped back down on the mattress, but he didn't look convinced. He acted like a man who was kind of used to being left behind, but didn't like it. Still, Nate had to go. He couldn't stifle his natural responses indefinitely. He wanted to lean down and kiss the man, maybe a little more than that, but the touch and smell would rouse the wolf fully and its 147


reaction would probably show through. He was sending enough mixed signals without risking that. So Nate got his clothes on with just less than unseemly haste and got out of the apartment. Shutting the door gently he trotted down the stairs into a cool morning. The fresh air in his lungs and solid ground beneath him was all the invitation the wolf in him needed. It prickled under his skin like fur growing through and keen in his ears, a phantom cry. Setting of at a jog, his whole body felt wrong, the wrong body—such a tiring and inelegant way to move. As soon as he reached the cover of the trees he wrenched his constricting clothing off again and barely manage to make himself conceal the shorts and Tee under a storm drain outlet before the transformation ripped through him. Too long held back, the harsh, sudden changing was painful. The muscles and bone convulsed to their other shape, his senses contracted and expanded to a new perception. The world became so much sharper, more acute and immediate and his very sense of self began to fade into the background. Within a few minutes, the details of his human thoughts would slip beyond the reach or interest of his wolf consciousness. As his paws landed on the mud of the riverbank, he become part of it, every aching muscle working smoothly in its place—almost without thought. A familiar rush and exhalation said freedom, freedom and the world suddenly seemed a brighter, simpler place. He made it to the river which stank of agricultural effluent, but it was still water washing over him. He shook, feeling his heavy coat moving the skin over broad canine shoulders, 148


wide paws pushing through the silt—stable on the mud, holding him steady against the stream of the water. Nate's cold sadness felt as real as the frigid water, warring with his heated lupine instincts. He always felt the pull of it, a door left open... He could stay like this. Human motivation persisted a day or two, but beyond that they lost all their power and the imperatives of the wolf took charge. The human ennui would fade away, the dragging effluent of yesterdays, the oppression of threatening tomorrows. Instead of so often caging the wolf within the man, he could submerge, drown the man within the wolf. Just find some wooded place, park the truck, and leave it all behind. After leaving his family it seemed so much more possible, with so much less to leave behind. Freedom, of a sort. Death, of a kind. But there was always some thought or memory that struggled through to hold him back, some slender strand of human connection. His mother, who would despite any choice he made, still be his mother. His deep desire for human love, and kin, even when he did not have them in his life. Steven. Steven? What was the man to him, an acquaintance of a less than day who wasn't even planning on staying in town? Would he go back with the city boy, trailing after him like a bitch in heat? He hardly thought so. Even if a great part of him wanted to. But such thoughts drifted into the background in a mind engineered to live in the moment and act according to the memories of an entire race expressed in wordless tides more powerful than those found on any riverbank. 149


Wrenching himself out of the water, he trotted up along the bank, seeking the denser trees on the edge of the town, strangling islands of wood and forest that he could follow most of the way back to his trailer with only the briefest moments of exposure. Moving through the trees, he saw and smelled and felt the world around him so completely, yet his loping stride carried him forward with barely a thought. His awareness slipped into long moments of perfect accord with his nature, his purpose, his place. If only there were others running at his side. The young bitches to leads the hunt, so swift. The harried prey; the leap and killing bite. The pack. He needed that. He needed it because there could never really be a war between his natures. It was so easy to forget except in moments such as these. He was the man, but he was also the wolf, the beast. He varied his path as much as possible in going between the town and the trailer. Human thought and wolf caution agreed on that precaution. Going around the far side of the cornfields added a little time to the usual hour or so it took him to get from town to the scrubby field out back of the gas station. There was a sort of desultory pond that formed there with the rain, baked down to little more than a stretch of mud. A gray heron watched him pass with a beady eye, but did not fly away. A few head of Angus cattle ambled out of his way, prey instincts muted by domestication and disuse. The wind was coming in from across the highway, thick with fumes and dust, but carrying also two fresh, familiar scents. So Nate wasn't surprised as he came round the front 150


of the trailer to find his mother propped up on a deck chair reading a glossy magazine. He headed for the trailer door. "When did Travis get here?" "Not too long after you left here yesterday," Mom said without looking up. "I could hardly leave him here unsupervised." Odds were whatever the hell was going on she knew all about it and had her own ideas how it should go. Inside, Travis was sprawled on the sofa watching the TV with an expression of fixed defiance. He looked up, opened his mouth to speak, shut it again. Travis just sat up, setting his feet on the threadbare carpet, waiting. Mom was right, eyeliner looked ridiculous on him. But what could you tell a kid that age, reality caught up with them quick enough anyway. "You're not staying," Nate said as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile of laundry next to the door and shoved them on. "Why not? You're an alpha. I can stay with you." "Beating the crap out of someone doesn't make anyone an alpha." Any more than fucking a woman makes you a father. But he didn't say that just: "The pack do—and the pack, didn't. And you," he said pointing an exasperated finger, "are a pup; you have to stay with a pack." "I'm not. I'm a wolf. I'm as big a dog as any." Nate stepped up close and took a deep breath in through his nose. "You're sixteen, and I'm sorry, you're not done yet. And as big a dog as you are you're still a mouse-hunter. You're not ready to hunt alone and I'm not taking you on." "No, I'm..." 151


"And you are arguing with me, which means you don't accept me as your alpha. You are going back with your Aunt Cooper. You're going back to your mother." Let Travis find way to deal with that little catch-22; might keep him quiet for a while. Mom appeared at the trailer door. "I'm not taking him," she said. "You want him to go back, you take him back." Nate felt a sour twist in his gut. He said very quietly, "He's a child of your pack. He's your problem." She just shrugged. "He's left. Until he goes back or finds somewhere else, he's roving and not my concern." It took a deep breath and a long pause, but Nate kept his voice calm. "He's a child." "If he's big enough to rove, he's big enough to leave the pack." Dog logic, as implacable as it was irrational. "Whatever you and the big dog think, he's a minor child under the law and he cannot be staying here with me. I'll end up in jail and the cops will be bringing him back. And I don't think ol' Dill would be thrilled about that with all that he's got going on." "So turn him out," Mom said in her best blank devil'sadvocate voice. "Your den, your right. You didn't hesitate to do it to me. Meh, he got here all on his own so I figure he can get back again. Or go roving on his own." And that was that. "Yeah, I told you to head back. It didn't exactly work, did it? Because you think this big bad roving wolf here couldn't be left alone in a trailer for a day." Of course Mom wasn't just saying what she really thought, just what served her purpose. Working out what Mom really 152


thought about anything was something Nate had given up on a long time ago. Now he just had to learn how to stop arguing with her. The more you said, the more she had to use against you. But then, suddenly, her mood seemed to change—a glimpse of sincerity through the rhetoric. Mom sat herself down on the shabby sofa next to Travis. "I'm your mother, Nate. It doesn't matter if you're in the pack. It doesn't matter of you're a faggot, or gonna act all human, or move to another state or paint yourself green and live in a cabbage patch. I'll still be your mother and nothing's gonna change that." "Which means you'll sit around here telling me what I have to do." Mom reached for the remote and clicked on the TV. "Which means I'll do what I think's best for you, regardless. You're all grown up now. I can't make you do anything. And I was grown up long before you were born so you sure as hell can't make me do anything." "And what's that, what's best for me?" "I haven't decided yet." And with that she turned her full attention to Oprah. Travis stayed sitting on the sofa next to her, watching Nate and chewing on his thumbnail. What the hell was he going to do about that kid? **** Nate sat on a stool at the kitchen counter with his back to the room. He worked on his laptop, keeping busy. He keyworded and uploaded a batch of good photos to a bunch of 153


micro-stock sites. The pictures of crops and livestock were selling better than he expected, soon he'd have enough to buy a better camera. Maybe one of the new Pentax point and shoots anyway—not enough for a DSLR. The back of his mind was still letting the situation seep in. Having an underage boy staying at his trailer was a recipe for disaster and for the moment it was probably just as well Mom was around. Frankly, Travis was an uppity kid with a lot of ideas, most of them a bit stupid and all of them pretty much designed to piss off a cave-dog like Dill. Life with the pack was going to go hard for him over the next few years and he would be pushed to rove eventually. Skinny kid or no, he was growing up alpha. None of the other packs would want to take him in and the chances he'd get a girl or two in tow weren't all that great. So he'd end up an alpha alone, which, as Nate well knew, was an unhappy proposition. Nate also knew that if he took Travis back himself, if he went anywhere near his old home, Dill's lackeys would have free rein to beat the crap out of him as a exile on pack lands. It would be hard to drop the kid off anywhere close without being spotted first. The men of the packed tended to rove in and out all around the countryside. So what was Mom's game in asking him to take Travis back himself? Trying to get him killed? Trying, in her own ineffable way, to say that Travis shouldn't go back there? And neither should Nate. But a bachelor group with a kid? That was doomed. Not just as pack dynamics, but with the human law. Without a bitch in the group, they wouldn't count as a pack and Dill 154


would have free run to harry and hunt them down. It was a mess, no matter how you looked at it. Nate had been lucky to keep his head down so far. Either Dill hadn't bothered about him or couldn't find him. But Travis was Dill's kid, he'd be obliged to take control. And kids were easy to find, they had to be in school, they were careless. In fact, Travis would probably give himself away almost straight off by getting in touch with his mother—who would give him up to Dill. Not that they could leave Susie not knowing where her son was. She was an omega bitch but she still loved the boy. There was a sort of uneasy truce in the trailer as his mother made a meal for them. Nate watched mutely. He had become used to looking after himself, but in the pack men did not prepare food. After a few minutes he tried half-heartedly to help, but she brushed it off and it was easier to leave her to it. Travis watched on. He said nothing, but he obviously struggled hard to keep that silence. No doubt the kid thought that if he didn't draw too much attention or cause any trouble he might somehow be able to stay. Nate looked up his bank accounts online. He had a hard won cushion of just over a thousand dollars. If he had to look after a kid like Travis it would be gone pretty much straight away. Travis would need to get to school, and have clothes more presentable that the thin cast-offs he had on now. Nate couldn't believe he was even considering it. After dark it started to cool, the heat wave finally releasing its grip. Nate pulled on a sweatshirt. "I'm going to work," he said, even though it was way too early. 155


Mom was back watching her precious television. "What are you going to do?" Travis said nervously. "I don't know, Travis. I'm going to have to talk to your mother somehow. You're her kid. Right now, I'm going to work. So you cool your heels and try and think of some way to contact her without drawing too much attention." There was some kind of tacit admission there which seemed to make Travis relax a bit, even flickered a smile. Nate felt tension ratcheting up inside him, but something else, too. If he had to look after the kid, he'd look after the kid. Somehow. In that moment his perspective changed from a wolf alone to having someone else he had to watch over. The wolf was happy about that, at least. We'll fight them as the come, it seemed to say. Penny from Louisville worked the afternoon and early evening shift. She was a squat, sanguine women who chain smoked menthol cigarettes and hardly ever said a word. She looked up as Nate came in, round face betraying neither interest nor surprise. "I'll cover the rest of the shift, if you want," Nate said. "My mother's visiting and I need a reason to get out of the trailer." At that she gave him a nod as she grabbed her purse and left. Nate settled down behind the counter, propping his feet up on the shelf under the till. So what would Susie think? She was Travis's mother, a pretty but hard worn looking blond who kept house for whatever wolf she was with. It seemed to change every few months and Travis was dragged along 156


behind. Nate didn't know her so well. Sometimes it seemed there just wasn't that much of her to get to know. There were a few customers to keep him busy, but they thinned out as it got close to midnight. Steven appeared at the door, pushing it open and peering in. "Sorry," he said by way of greeting. "I just, you know...." And Nate did. He knew. Seeing Steven made the cold core of his body warm and open. His worries seemed less pressing and the future more hopeful. As much as there was no good reason for Steven to be there, Nate wanted him to be there. But before Nate could say a word, Steven had to shuffle out of the way of another women coming in. Bloody hell, speak of the devil. It was Susie Nesbit, Travis's mother. He knew her only as one of Dill's loyal welfare Moms, but she had a different look to her now. She looked him straight in his eyes as she walked up to the counter. The place was empty apart Steven and the two of them. "Susie, Travis is here—he's fine," Nate assured her. Steven seemed to catch, quickly, that there was something going on. He edged into the store, but headed down the back, leaving them room to talk. God bless a man with a sense of discretion. "I knew he'd be fine with you." Susie cast a look back at Steven who was wavering next to the display of chocolate bars. "But Dill was just behind me. And if he finds me here we're both screwed. I'm sorry. I didn't even see him until I turned off the highway back there. We've got to get Travis and get the hell out of here." 157


"You could just take Travis and go back with him then. He'll have no reason to do anything to you." Without making a deliberate choice to do it, Nate knew he was testing her. Susie shook her head. "I'm not going back, Nate," she said. "After Travis left I thought about it a long time and I realized he's right. Travis has got a right to try and be what he is ... what he wants to be. I didn't get that, and he won't ever get a chance with Dill. Or with me, like I am, around Dill." "Dill's his father, Susie..." "Says who? He had me write 'not known' on that birth certificate like I don't know who I'm sleeping with. If he wants to say otherwise he can pay me sixteen years of support on the boy and I'll take out a restraining order on his ass as well. I'm Travis' mother and I want to do right by him." And she looked at him with as much fear as bravado, every line of her body calling to someone to take her side, give her strength to follow through on what she wanted to do. And Nate wanted to, he wanted to do that, and to be that. He'd got past Dill before. Surely he could do it again? Looking past her, he saw Steven was getting an earful and catching the tone if not the full meaning. He was staying back, still. Nate couldn't even think how much explaining this would take or what story would cover for it. With a sickening lurch he realized that with more wolves around the place the secrets would inevitably push Steven away from him, even out of his life altogether. Why the hell should that bother him so much after meeting the guy less than two days ago? His 158


scatter thoughts were blown away altogether by the sound of a truck pulled up out front with a screech. "Steven, you'll want to get out of here now," Nate said called out. "I've got some family trouble here and with my family that tends to end up with people in hospital." "Or worse," Susie added quietly. She turned to Steven, giving him and up and down then looked to Nate. But even if he'd wanted to get into that with her, the chance was interrupted by the arrival of the big dog himself. Dill, a big man but balding and with a soft beer gut. His main weapon was his sheer, indomitable belief in his own importance which seemed to have survived their last meeting intact. He kicked the door open hard enough that the toughened glass cracked like a spider-web. In an instant the whole place smelled of liquor and musk. Dill had obviously been slow boiling on the whole long drive and he was about to blow. Nate, caught more buy surprise, was knocked back a step, his wolf cowering instinctively before a reigning alpha coming for what was his. What he thought was his. But Nate was wading against his instincts which always took their time getting in behind his thoughts—if they did at all. "Susie, get in the truck," Dill said, but his eyes were on Nate. He'd beaten the man once before but then it had been him propelled by anger at the alpha's brutal ways. All he had behind him now was the people that could get hurt if this went wrong. It was going to have to be enough. 159


Susie clutched the edge of the counter, eyes pleading with Nate. "It's up to you, Susie," Nate said. She backed away, getting behind Nate. "I'm not going," she said. "I'm taking my boy and leaving you, Dill. It's my right." "That's my boy, and you're my woman." Susie just shook her head, pressed against the back wall. "He's my boy, and you aren't gonna hurt him anymore. Or me." Dill strode forward and Nate knew his last chance to take control was slipping by. He lowered his shoulder and barreled right at the big man. It was like hitting a hanging side of beef. Dill barely staggered back two steps, but knocked off balance his back hit the glass door that has closed behind him. With a crack the weakened safety glass collapsed into thousand of tiny squares of glass and they fell back through it together. Dill got him by the throat and, groping, Nate felt Dill's shirt tear, but he couldn't get a grip. Fumbling, he managed to shift Dill's grip enough to loosen his hold. Dill's hand fumbled on his face. gouging at his eye. Nate bit down on the man's thumb with all his strength. Already enraged, Dill lost all control and shifted under him, thumb shrinking and thickening, thick fur and bulky canine body pushing down on Nate. Desperately, Nate squirmed to look around to see who overlooked this rash change. Two of Dill's followers lurked by his truck, big Tom and Samson. But they both looked shocked to see Dill so blatantly flouting the rules of secrecy. 160


Nate was forced on his back and soon could do not more than try to fend of Dill's broad clawed paws and yellowed teeth. He kicked out desperately with his feet and got in one solid kick. Scrambling back he saw the forecourt and the road were empty. Susie was running from the station back toward the trailer and Steven stood in the shattered doorway. There was no mistaking, from his shocked expression, that he had seen Dill change. Dill was fully a wolf, hampered only by the vestiges of his clothes which constricted him. Growling, he tore them free. "Tom, get in that fucking shop and turn off the pump lights," Nate shouted as he backed away. There was no way he could beat Dill, or probably even get out of this alive, unless he changed, too. But as he yanked up his sweatshirt, Dill sprang, thrusting him back off his feet just as his arms were tangled in his clothes. Nate squirmed, kicking out blindly as he felt jaws skim over, tearing the skin on his stomach. Twisting onto his knees, he threw the sweatshirt away from him. His hand fell against the trash bin and he tried to hurl it at Dill, but the heavy container just toppled away from him. Dill was big and squat as a wolf, and his jaws clamped down on Nate's left calf, tearing deep into his flesh. With a shout, Nate kicked down as hard as he could with his other foot, but Dill just growled and shook his head, throwing his body from side to side. Nate tore down his jeans and managed to kicked them off, shaking Dill off at the same time. 161


His own blood flowed thickly down his leg as he hobbled upright. He knew, sickly, that he had already lost the fight. With no weapon near enough to reach he still had to change to have a chance, but now he was wounded, wounds the change would distort and extend; he was losing too much blood. But as Dill leapt for him, he thrust his body through the transformation into a stronger body and a simpler mind— praying the wolf would find a way to survive. Falling again, he snapped, seeking any purchase. He managed to bite down on something, the coarse fur and thick bone of a leg. He bore down as hard as he could, but felt Dill's own jaws close on his throat, crushing and closing, cutting off his air. He dimly heard Steven's voice. "Which one is him, which one is Nate?" Nate pushed out with his limbs, but already the strength was leeching from them. Fearing for Steven and Susie, he writhed to get off his back and get some contact with the ground. Sudden darkness suggested that Tom had finally found the right switch to stop any passing motorist from seeing the fight. There were sounds of some kind of scuffle, men shouting and a woman's scream muffled by the harsh rasping of his own struggle for breath. Strength was fading fast. Then suddenly blessed relief. The grip on his neck jarred forward and gapped. Nate bucked, and clawed to get away. He got his feet under him and squared to meet an attack. But Dill lay sprawled on the ground and over him, Nate's mother holding a heavy fire extinguished with both hands. Dill 162


crab-walked away from her groggily, shaking his head. He turned to Nate, then to his followers who dithered on whether to jump in. If this was an alpha challenge they had no right to. Finally Dill crouched, changing back to human formed with Nate's blood smearing his mouth. "It's an alpha fight, sister. You got no part in this." "My boy wasn't challenging you, Dill. This ain't no alpha fight. It's your pack against his, and that means all comers can deal themselves in." "He's a rogue, Marg. It ain't a pack thing and if it was, you're with me." His mother swung the extinguisher back. "Susie went to him, and he took her in. Her 'n' the boy's with Nate and that's a pack: dog, bitch and pup. Her and the boy are with Nate, and he's my boy, so I am, too. Get your thinking straight, Dill, and do it quick." And she stood there, her jaw clenched, stance resolute, she readied to hit him again. "What are you two doing?" Dill screamed back at Tom and Sam. "You deal with this." Dill could never take it when he didn't have control on things. His neck strained and his face was red with outrage, his voice all but hysterical. "I'm not hitting an old lady," Tom said, shifting his feet. "And Susie can go if she wants. Bitches can go, if they want. It's always been like that. Bitches can go unless the head bitch stops them—we ain't laying hands on a woman." Dill got on his feet, naked and bleeding from his arm. "The boy's mine. I got a claim on the boy and I'm taking him back 163


with us. Dogs look after dogs, and bitches after bitches—so the boy's mine." Nate struggled to force the change back, but pain and weakness wouldn't let him. He hobbled forward still as the wolf, his mind flaring with instincts to defend this place, his people. It was hard to think straight, human thoughts jammed hodge-podge into a canine brain. He didn't know if he should risk changing back; the strain might knock him out cold. Susie came up behind Nate's Mom with Travis by her side, and with shock Nate saw Steven was also there, holding in his hands the fire axe from behind the counter. Steven's fingers were curled tight-white around the haft, but he was standing firm. "He's not the Daddy of Travis," Susie said, speaking up with a trembling voice. "I got Travis from one of the men in town. His daddy wasn't even one of us." Nate was pretty sure she was lying, but she was fierce with it. Susie had a strong grip on her son's arm, holding him back by her side. The boy was dithering between sheltering by her side and standing up front like a grown dog. There was a spell of silence, lines drawn and nobody quite fixed to do anything about it. There was nothing for it. He had to be man-formed to make this work. Nate got a grip on his change, pushing through to human form. He felt nauseous weakness, barely getting up on his one good leg with a hand to his throat, which was wet with blood. He was amazed not to find it torn right open. He had to hop, waiver and almost fall to get between Dill and his mother. 164


Dill looked back to his two followers, who looked less than fierce faced with an opposition made mostly of women and a kid. Finally Dill stood and huffed, pushing his shoulders back. "You lot want to get behind this half-blood weakling. Then you pay the price. I want them dead," he said to Tom and Sam, "The lot of them, dead. If they're a pack, then war is lawful, full war—all of us against them." Samson took one step forward, but Tom just shook his head. "It's an old lady, a bitch and a pup, I'm not having a part of that," he said. And then with a nod to Steven, he added. "And that one's a normal, Dill. Ya did all this in front of a normal and that the first law broken, the big law. We cause a fuss and get the packs looking in, that's all they'll care about." "Fuck the packs. They all die," Dill said in a scary quiet voice. "And nobody ever needs to know. I'll see you right by it. The first one of you to kill one of them, I'll name my second and my chosen heir." Nate stood, arms spread out, knowing he couldn't protect all of them from three grown wolves. Flicking his gaze back, he saw Steven, face pallid with shock, take a step forward to be almost beside him. But Tom just shook his head; he stepped out to the side. Nate watched him, ready to fight but Big Tom just didn't have that look to him. He came around slowly to Nate's side, the side from Steven wasn't on, and stood, just behind him, facing Dill and Samson. 165


Nate coughed, trying to hoarsely force speech out. "It's between us, Dill. Only us. I don't want neither of you two going against anyone else but me—making any fight of this except with me." "But it's not just you anymore, son," his mother said calmly. "You got a kid to look after now. You got a pack. My brother wants to cause you trouble, he's got to declare war all proper and justify it to all. Give his reason and call his pack to follow him in his cause. You think they'll do it, Dill? You already gone and lost four of us." Dill glared at each of them in turn, but took one step back. "Who needs you?" he growled. "Who wants you sluts and faggots. Get in the truck, Sam. Get in the fucking truck." And within a few moments it was all suddenly over. The truck rumbled off towards the highway leaving them standing together on the dark forecourt. **** It was his mother who calmly took charge in the aftermath, sending Susie, Travis and Tom to hole up in the trailer. Nate slumped to the ground and she told Steven to get his clothes back on as she called 911. "You go with Nate," she said to Steven, blandly. "You stick with him and just agree with whatever he tells them, right. First law, there weren't no wolves here tonight." Nate hung grimly to awareness. "Three men," Nate rasped. "Jus as you saw, but we didn't know them and they tried to bother Susie and to rob the place. No wolves, right." 166


Steven was white-faced and clammy. Then he dropped the axe down next to the door, wrapping his hands over the lacerations on Nate's leg. Nate felt a surge of pride seeing that even with all this craziness thrown at him Steven was holding his own, showing true mettle. Steven met Nate's eyes. "I guess one of them must have had a big dog of some sort within him," Steven said. "Because we need a story the paramedics are going to buy." Nate's fingers were cold and weak. He fumbled, trying to get his clothes back on and Steven had to help him with it. It was barely done before the sheriff turned up in advance of the ambulance. The cop obviously didn't like the look of him and Nate found it was getting hard to sit up, or even get his eyes properly focused. His mother was making all the explanations and they decided to get him in the back of the Sheriff's car and head to the hospital in Louisville rather than wait for the ambulance to arrive. "I'll take care of this lot," his mother muttered to him. "You take your man here along and get him sorted out." Nate could barely nod. He knew he had to make sure Steven was going to do all right with what he'd learned—and that he'd keep it to himself. Steven held onto him, in the cold back seat as they drove along the dark road. "You all right back there?" the deputy called. "I'm fine," Nate rasped. But he felt cold, and although Steven had a towel squeezed tight around his leg, he could see the white cloth almost totally stained red. He experienced a deep, sinking feeling of failure. When it counted the most he hadn't been able to defeat Dill. And now he had more than 167


Travis to worry about: Susie, his mother and Big Tom. What could he do for them with a tiny rented trailer and a minimum wage job as his only assets? "He all right?" the deputy said again. "Just drive," Steven replied tersely. **** They didn't have any time alone. Once the hype started to wear off he just felt strung out and cold, so cold. Steven stayed by his side, his hand was wrapped around the bar at the side of the gurney like he wanted to be holding Nate's hand, but didn't want to be seen doing it. The Louisville hospital wasn't that big. They had an emergency room though, lit up brightly with a resident and a couple of nurses on call. They clustered around his torn leg, muttering. First there were a series of injections that hurt almost as much as getting bit, then a mosaic of stitches and a tight bandage over the top. About a minute after the shots Nate started to feel a little like he was floating, peaceful—kinda nice. He could hear Steven telling a somewhat vague story about three guys trying to rob the gas station with a big Alsatian type dog. But it was more like he was listening to something on the radio than a conversation that had much to do with him. By the time they were done with him, he had no idea what time it was, and not much of any idea where he was. He could hear himself saying: "I want to go home. I want to go home." 168


"His mother is staying with him," Steven was explaining. "And I can stay with him, too. So if it's safe for him to be discharged he wouldn't be left on his own." "Well, all right then," the nurse said. "The ambulance can drop him off. You make sure his mother gets these meds and bring him back in two days so we can have a good look at how he's healing up. The Sheriff will probably want to talk to him again, too." Nate tried foggily to help as they levered him into a wheelchair. "Nate?" Steven was crouched down beside him. "Nate, I've called your Mom and told her you're going to stay with me tonight. It's a little crowded in that trailer already and you look all out. We can sort everything out in the morning." "Okay," Nate mumbled. They wheeled him out and straight into the back of the ambulance. Nate clung to awareness through the rumbling journey, and then being rolled out and into the elevator, along to Steven's apartment. Gary answered the door with Perrin close behind and there was a babble between them, Steven and the paramedic that Nate didn't even try to follow. They levered him out and into the king sized bed. The feeling of the inner-sprung mattress against his back was a relief. There was something at the back of his mind that said he couldn't sleep yet, but he didn't pay it much heed. He was foggy and unfocussed, but realized Steven was leaving the room. "Steven," he reached out and missed Steven by about a foot. "Stay." 169


He knew he had to talk to Steven, about ... he had to talk to Steven. He wanted nothing but to be alone with the man. With a bit more muttering he finally found the lights dimmed and they were alone together. "Steven, I..." Nate struggled as much with trying to work out what he was meant to be saying as getting his dry mouth and clumsy tongue to cooperate. He had so much to explain, not about the wolf life and his family—but about what he had felt when Steven stood with his pack. His new pack. The mattress sagged. Steven settled a heavy duvet over him, cool and clean and then settled in gingerly beside him. "Steven, I'm..." "Shh. We can talk in the morning. Unless you've got some kind of super shape-shifter healing power?" "I wish." And the last thing he remembered was Steven laughing and pulling the cover up his chest before sleep claimed him. **** Nate drifted up from sleep very slowly and with a feeling of perfect contentment. He could barely feel his body at all, lying on his back. Sunlight broke though his closed eyelids. There were slight sounds coming from outside the room, clicks of crockery and shuffling as people moved around. His sense of smell seemed confused, like there was a sweet smell in the air that faded as he woke. His cognitive functions slowly came online. The smell was Steven, who must have slept beside him in the bed through the night, but it seemed different somehow. 170


He remembered Steven, standing ready to fight despite everything, fire ax in hand. Steven who hadn't demanded explanations, who hadn't hesitated to stand with him and follow his lead. Not an alpha, like Mom. He smiled, remembering how she'd hit Dill. Ancient rules stated that dog might fight dog and bitch fight bitch—but never did one fight the other. Well, Mom wasn't much for rules. Having her in the pack was going to make for interesting times. But Steven hadn't shirked his role, hadn't fussed and had played along. He'd been there by Nate's side. The weight of his new responsibilities slowly weighed down on his emerging consciousness. He couldn't just be lying here. He had a pack now. Susie and Travis, at least, Mom, maybe Tom, and, after a fashion, Steven. But Steven wasn't even planning to stay in Gnoxville, they had nowhere to live and nowhere near enough money to get by for very long. With growing concern, Nate opened his eyes. He flexed his fingers, his arms moved but he felt the ache of bruising across his stomach, and when he swallowed his throat felt tender. He peeled back the duvet with his arm, not even daring to lift his neck. He felt the cool air on his body. Steven must have undressed him, but he didn't remember it. His right leg was bound up tight and when he tried to move it, there was a feeling inside his calf that made him feel queasy. But there was nothing for it. He could see a dark blue robe hanging over the top of the open wardrobe door. With that goal in mind, he levered his injured leg off the bed, not daring 171


to bend the knee. Then he swung out his other leg; he put one foot flat to the floor and got upright. He was putting the robe on as Steven opened the door. He was kind of expecting an argument about how he ought to still be in bed. But instead, Steven pulled the robe up over his shoulders and then reached around him to pull it closed and tie the belt. Standing close behind him Steven rested his arms just very gently against Nate's stomach. "So you're some kind of werewolf," Steven said. "The only kind there is. Are you okay with that?" Damn, but it was peculiar to just say it like that. "Everyone's got their little quirks." "Steven..." "It's all right, Nate. And yes, I do think you should stay in bed. But I've got a living room full of werewolves and queers. And your mother's just declared that Gary and Perrin are in the pack, too. And last I saw Tom was showing them just how the whole thing works. So I think it would be easier all around if we could all sit down and sort a few things out." And it was indeed a bit crowded in the room. Nate leaned heavily on Steven, not daring to put any weight on his torn up leg. Gary, Perrin and Mom were on the sofa against the wall. Tom, his muscular back to Nate, was standing naked in front of them. "If'n either parent is wolf, the kid is," he was explaining. No doubt he'd just been giving them the most undeniably proof there was that werewolves exist in this world. "Tom, put your clothes on," Nate said. "Show and tell is over." They made a space for him and gathered around. "We 172


have some plans to make."

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4. Nate folded his arms, watching the workmen finish installing the new commercial coffee and cappuccino maker in the gas station. With the extension, there was now room for three aisles packed with every kind of convenience food, and the truckers would love the new coffee machine. He couldn't begin to count all the times he'd been asked for it. He had a spreadsheet set up that calculated the profitability of every square inch of shelf area and it was surprisingly engaging trying to get the right products in the right place for top profit. It was kind of like working out where to hunt for the best kill for the pack. And he was good enough at it that the place was running a small profit even with the expense of the new equipment. Overall, he was feeling pretty good about it. On paper he was a part owner, although he'd only put up a thousand while Perrin, Gary and Steven had put up more than that and had the kind of credit rating and standing to get the loan for a mortgage. His Mom had chipped in a good amount, too. It was amazing what she'd managed to salt away. Between them they'd put a business plan together and bought up both the station and the newsagent. Magazines were more Perrin's speed, although it was taking him a little while to get a handle on what folks in these parts preferred to read. "How's that, Boss?" one of the men said. "Could you push it back against the wall?" "No problem." 174


Jessy was behind the till. "When I went out to help that old lady with the pump I thought I saw someone in the trailer," she said. "There shouldn't be anyone out there." It was always in the back of his mind that Dill would be up to something. He had a big clan, a dozen dogs and a score of bitches, and he wasn't the sort to let things go. The thought of coming up against Dill or one of his followers didn't bother him too much—he'd deal with that when it happened. But what if they went against Travis at school, or Steven? Gary and Perrin were rarely apart and had some idea of what they were up against, but a group of wolves would still be too much for them. With two females in the group, Dill ought to treat them like a pack, needed to declare if there was a conflict and fight it in the open. But Dill had been getting pretty crazy of late, even more after Nate left according to Travis and Susie. So there really was no telling. The worry sat at the back of his mind, always casting a shadow over things, spoiling the small pleasure of establishing his own pack, even if it was one were the alpha bitch was his mother. Oh, a strange enough pack even without that with three humans in it, but if the wolf didn't care, he wasn't going to second guess it. "You hold the fort here, eh?" he asked, and Jenny nodded absently, preoccupied with giving the younger workman the eye. Nate shook his head and left her to it. He went around back. The muscles in his right leg still felt a bit tight, but he'd 175


had the stitches out and everything had pretty much come right. It still gave him some pain in the change, but less each time. In fact he was feeling pretty damn good in himself, except for one thing. The old trailer ought to be empty now that they'd moved everyone into a second apartment down by the river. It was still pretty crowded at that, with Mom, Tom, Susie and Travis on one apartment, and him, Steven, Gary and Perrin in the other. And with everyone back and forth all the time it was a wonder there was any romance at all going on, and very little intimacy. On the whole, it was getting pretty frustrating, especially as Steven wasn't the type to be up for doing it in the great outdoors. He seemed to think there was a Hoosier farmer or a rampaging werewolf hiding behind every tree. Still, there was definitely something going on with Susie and Tom, for all that Mom seemed to be making it difficult. Nate didn't see the problem, Tom was a good guy and it would be good to have a wolf pair in the pack. Mom would just shrug at that. "That girl needs to be herself, and mother for a while. So as if she chooses Tom, it's for him and not just grabbing the nearest dog to take over her life for her." And Nate didn't have much to say beyond that. The alpha female looked after the others. If he wanted it done different he'd have to get Mom to change her mind, and good luck with that. Nate forced his mind back to the present. The last thing he needed was to be distracted when Dill finally turned up like the proverbial bad penny. The trailer door was shut but there were fresh finger marks on the door near the lock. Nate took a deep careful 176


breath. A myriad of scents washed over his senses. The tension left him. Steven. Now what the hell was he up to? Nate opened the door and stepped inside. There was a bottle of beer on the counter, and Steven waited for him on the bed. There was a muted, wicked look in Steven's eyes. Ah yes, there were hidden depths to Steven that he looked forward to discovering, at their leisure. "Well, hello stranger," Steven said. "Can I interest you in a beer and maybe coming over here and getting in this bed?" "Doesn't look like there's much room in there," Nate said, ignoring the beer. "Oh, I think we'll manage." "Do you do this often, Steven? Give a passing stranger a drink and proposition them?" "With the drop in salary I've just taken, they only get a beer if'n I really like them." Nate walked over slowly. Steven was obviously naked under the shabby blanket. He sat propped up against the pillows, watching. Nate had given a lot of thought to everything Steven, not to mention Perrin and Gary, has left behind. Small town business owner might be a big leap up for Nate, but it was likely a step down for them, in many ways. "Do you think you're ever going to regret hooking up with me, Steven?" he asked. "We'd barely met and you're getting a lot of trouble as part of the bargain." "Yeah, and your Mom told me you were actually pretty insecure under all this boss wolf business. But then she says most alphas are, and most men." 177


"I don't know what bothers me more, that you're having cozy little chats with my Mom or that you're bringing it up after you're already naked." "Why don't you give me something else to think about, then?" Nate pulled off his clothes, consciously not hurrying—he didn't want to look as desperate as he felt. He stooped over Steven, feeling his lover's body, lithe and ready beneath him, just waiting for him—all for him. And he could smell it, the strong, warm, sweet scent of a normal, healthy man—and the wolf within him wanted nothing more. It was the smell of his man, his partner, his pack. Pack? Yes, the wolf said patiently. Pack. Pack. His senses concurred. Pack wasn't about being a wolf, it was about be pack; it was about being family and being together. It was about trust and taking on any fight, as it came. It was the smell of arousal, love and trust. It was all he'd ever need and nobody would ever take it away from him. Fight them as the come, the wolf agreed.

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Home Fires By BA Tortuga Houston crawled under the fence, whimpering as the wood caught on his skin, tore his stolen shirt. Only a few more yards. He'd made it across country. He'd walked, he'd ridden. He'd run. Three days. Seven hundred miles. Dirt. Thorns. Pain. Still, Houston was free and he... Houston lifted his head, sniffed the air. Jackson. Oh, sweet Jesus. Please. He sniffed again, his head going back so he could really scent the air. Yes. Jackson. Faint, but there. Somewhere in this great mass of land, Houston knew he would find Jackson. Tonight. He'd stolen the tattered scrubs he was wearing and they hung from him like clown's clothes. Would Jackson know him still? Over a year and a half since they'd fought and growled and gone their separate ways. So long since... Fuck. He wasn't here to stay. He just couldn't figure out where else to go. The creosote and rocks pulled at those stupid clothes, making him snarl, making him stumble. When the lights finally came into view, he was just ready to give up and howl his fury to the night. 179


His knees hit the dirt, heart slamming in his chest, sending the blood moving through his body like fire. No. No, he wasn't fucking giving up here. Not here. Not yet. Houston stumbled to his feet, growling low as he lurched toward the lights. The house wasn't at all what he would have expected. It was a simple adobe, old and shabby, with one big light illuminating a yard of prickly pear. Damn. Someone was grumpy these days, if that yard was anything to go by. He headed straight to the door—Jackson had to have scented him. Had to. And if the fucker killed him straight away? Hell, he wouldn't have died in a cage. The door opened just as he got to it to knock, the barrel of a shotgun poking out. "Whatever you're selling, I ain't buying." "I don't have a dime to my name, Jackson, and I'm dead on my fucking feet. Either shoot my sorry ass or let me in." "Jesus. I fucking thought someone was baiting me with your scent." The gun went away and Jackson came out and put an arm around him, leading him in. Oh. Oh, fuck him. That scent washed over him in a rush and the low keening sound just poured out of him. "I got you, man. Whatever it is, I got you." He could almost feel the confusion vibrating through him from Jackson, but bless him, the man didn't ask. Just took him to the couch and eased him down. "Water?" 180


"Please." Houston blinked down on his hands, the bruises and dirt making them look almost like he remembered them— tanned and healthy instead of dead pale. "Sit a minute." It was like he'd just left yesterday, and on friendly terms, the way Jackson went and snagged a bottle of water, coming back to press it into his hands. He didn't have any words. None. Houston just sat there and stared at Jackson, drinking the man in. "You need anything else?" Jackson asked, squatting down and patting his leg. "I." He could feel his eyes rolling a bit. "Jackson." "Shhh." Warm brown eyes were right there for him to stare into when he could see again. Solid as a rock, that Jackson. "You need to grab a shower and rest, man." "Yeah." Yeah, he did. If he could just sit a few more seconds. Breathe. "Take your time." Another pat and Jackson stood up, sort of toodling around, getting towels and shit, quiet as a mouse. It was fucking weird. Which, given the last year of his life was spent in a cage with three other lycs like him? Was pretty fucking impressive. Finally Jackson wandered back over, handing him a sandwich. "Here, man. Eat something." His stomach snarled, the hunger sudden and sharp. His mouth watered, teeth bared at the scent of meat and cheese. "That's it, man, you look half starved. Have this and I'll get you some juice. Go slow, though. No puking." He pounced, words lost in the rush of hunger. Food. 181


Food. Good food. He wasn't a bit sick, either. Not one bit. He could probably eat five more. Jackson just grinned and went to get him another, along with some bright, tart juice. His tongue was lolling; he knew it. He couldn't stop it. He hadn't been able to in months. Not since... Oh. Juice. Juice. "There you go. Tastes good, huh? You've been doing some kind of thirsty work." So fucking nice. Concerned. He gave Jackson a laugh that was more bitter bark than anything. "Running'll do that." "You're gonna tell me all about it. But you're gonna bathe and get some rest first." Pulling him up once he'd finished his juice, Jackson took him to the bathroom, where those almost threadbare towels lay on the sink. "Get a shower. I'll fold out the couch." "'kay." One night's sleep and then he could go again. He just needed a night and a pair of jeans and maybe some shoes. He nodded to Jackson, padding over to the shower and tearing the stolen scrubs away. The water started flowing and he groaned, knees hitting ceramic as the filth slid from him. He would have cried out with it, if he hadn't been asleep before his joints stopped throbbing. **** 182


Man, Jackson didn't know what had happened to Houston, but between the skin and bones look and the medicinal smell, well ... It had to suck. Shit, it had to suck so bad that he hadn't even had the heart to yell at the man. He always thought he'd want to if Houston showed back up on his doorstep. But then, his doorstep used to be just outside of Albuquerque, not down in the desert outside of Tularosa. It was a whole new fucking world these days, so maybe he ought to give Houston the benefit of the doubt. The man was flat on his back, snoring and whining, his hands opening and closing when Jackson walked in to check on him. Hell, the guy would have to eat every few hours to get his strength back, so maybe it was time to offer him a steak. He moved closer and Houston snarled, going from deadasleep to painfully awake in a single breath, green eyes huge and scared. Scared? What the fuck? "Hey. You want something rare and juicy, man?" He spoke calmly, easily, just soothing Houston the best he could. "Jackson." Houston panted, staring at him, nostrils flaring. "I wasn't. I didn't know if you were real." "Right here." Grinning, he held down a hand. "Come and let me feed you." Houston's hands were torn up, two nails missing. "You smell good."

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"Yeah?" Still smiling, Jackson pulled up, getting Houston to his feet, unsteady as he was. "Well, good. I'd hate to think I stank." "I do." Houston looked out the window a little, nostrils flaring. "I. Do you really have food?" "I have steak and eggs ready to go. I just wanted to make sure you were hungry." Oh, baby, what happened to you? He wanted to ask, but Houston wasn't near ready. Houston nodded, stepped close and just rested that poor shorn head on his shoulder. Jackson could remember that dark brown hair just thick, streaming down over that broad back. Now it was just ... gone. One hand came up of its own volition, stroking over the stubbly skin, soothing them both. "You need to use the head? I'll get the steaks in the broiler. One minute on each side, yeah?" He got a nod, a low sound that broke his heart, then Houston stepped away, the soft sweats he'd let the man borrow hanging from pointed hips. Grabbing Houston's arms, he looked into the man's eyes and held them. "You can stay as long as you need to, baby. You know that, right?" "They'll find me." One hand cupped his cheek. "I just had to come." No matter what the world said, they all still mated for life, didn't they? Who? The word trembled on his lips, but Jackson held it in, shaking his head instead. "Whoever it is will have to wait for me to get done with you. Now, go pee. I'll cook."' 184


Houston nodded, almost grinning at him, tongue sliding on his chin so quickly he almost missed it. That had him laughing, swatting Houston's butt. But gently, because there wasn't an ounce of spare flesh there. Then he headed off to the kitchen to start the steaks, his own mouth watering at the smell of good, fresh meat. It didn't take long before Houston came padding in, smelling of soap and clean water and pure hunger. "Smells good." "Yeah, it does." He'd been up half the night, checking on Houston from the doorway. He needed his energy. "Scrambled or fried on the eggs?" "What?" The honest look of confusion made him want to growl. "Eggs, baby. How do you want them? You used to like scrambled and runny." Someone was gonna die for that look. "Did I? I can eat them any way." Houston stepped closer to the stove, licking his lips, staring at the meat. "Real meat. It's so pretty." "How long has it been?" That was a good place to start, right? The eggs went into the pan, the steaks came out of the broiler, and he slid one on a plate, pushing it over. "Over a year since they took me. I broke out four days ago? Five?" The questions rose up again, but the haunted look in Houston's eyes had him biting them back again. "Eat man. No one's got you now but me." "Thank you." Houston pounced the steak, acting as lost in it as he'd ever seen the man. It just didn't add up—this 185


desperate, near-feral man that he remembered as a strong, sly go-getter that was heading to the big city to make money, to make a name away from the desert. Watching the man eat like that, like a starving beast, made him hurt deep down. Lord knew, he'd always said that the city thing would end badly. The plate was licked clean, every speck of food gone, Houston already starting to droop again, looking a little green around the gills. "Maybe the eggs should wait until you lie down some more, baby." The 'baby' had popped right back up like Houston had never curled his lip over it while leaving. "I ... Fuck, I'm tired." Houston shivered, panting a little. "There you go. You'll have a nap. I'll work some. You can have more food when you get up. Ain't no hurry." "I should go before they find me. I took the homing device out and left it outside Yuma." "The homing ... okay, baby. I have to know what you got into." Goddamn, but something evil had gotten a hold of his Houston. He needed to know, just in case it did show up on his doorstep. Houston lifted one arm, the ribs there visible and covered in what looked like a fucking barcode, topped with a gash, something obviously torn out of Houston's body. Jesus fucking Christ. Look at that. "They call it the LCP." "The LCP." What the fuck was that? The Light-shorts Cancer Patrol? The Lofty Cocksucker's Party? "Lycan Control and Prevention." 186


Control and prevention? What the fuck? "Like in Prevention magazine? Or like pest control. What the fuck?" Goddamn, it made no sense. "Yeah. Prevention fucking magazine. That's it. I was running with a pack on the fucking sand and a bunch of soldiers took us, popped us in cages and started asking if our motherfucking cholesterol was high!" "Oh, well. At least you know you have a healthy heart. Did they stick a finger up your ass to check your prostate, too?" The man had to be crazy. That was the only explanation. The government didn't believe in werewolves. Houston snarled, teeth bared, and the man blind tackled him and took them to the floor, his head whacking on the tile hard enough that he saw stars. The growl in his ear was pure animal, the fury dripping in the sound. "I pray you never fucking know what they did to me." The urge to let the alpha out and take Houston down almost overtook him, but he checked it. Jackson figured Houston needed this, needed whatever tiny shred of control he could grab. Needed to prove he was still a big fucking dog. "Okay, baby. Just calm down, yeah?" "Yeah." Houston started to change—which so fucking didn't work since the full moon wasn't for another week, at least, then stopped. "Thanks for the steak." Then Houston just pushed up and off, heading for the door. Fuck, talk about running hot and cold. Oh, Hell no. That was his very next thought before he stopped thinking and leaped, taking Houston right down 187


under him and twisting them until he could get to that long, pale throat. "No." Houston didn't have a fucking chance—he never had, even at his prime, and fuck knew Houston was a thousand miles from that. His teeth sank deep for half a second before Jackson pulled back. "You're not leaving, baby. You're in no shape. You're going back to bed." "Jackson." He'd seen that fucking look so many times it was branded in his head—that look that was more thought than instinct, that confusion that only went away when Houston was sleeping or fucking. Goddamn the man's mother for refusing to raise her cubs knowing what they were. He growled, appealing to the instinct instead of the intellect. "Get your ass up and go to bed. I'll keep watch."' Houston growled back, eyes rolling a bit, but the man moved, heading for the sofa, exhaustion written in the lines of the lean body. There. That was better. He watched Houston settle in, then covered the man with the quilt. "I'll take care of you, man," he said as those eyelids drooped. And while Houston slept, he'd do a little research on the LCP. Just because. **** Men. Men with guns and masks and fucking tear gas. They were at the window, ripping away the mosquito netting, the sound of waves crashing on the beach almost drowning them out. Bright lights flared to life, leaving all of them dazed and 188


blinking. Then the guns started popping, pop-pop-popping, smoke bombs dropping in on them, abrading their senses even as rough rifle stocks smashed their heads in. Then everything went dark. They were taken... He woke with a start, eyes rolling. They landed on an old painting of some mountains in the middle of fucking nowhere that Jackson had carried around for twenty years. Sentimental bastard. The urge to go over and tear it from the wall, bash it into thousands of pieces was so huge it hurt. Burned. If he did it, then no one else could take it from Jackson and use it. Fuck, he needed to get the Hell out of there. Like he'd conjured the man up out of thin air, Jackson came padding over, sitting on the edge of the saggy mattress. "Bad dream?" "Yeah. Yeah, you okay?" So fucking fine. Jackson had improved with age, grown stronger. The man was all heavy muscle and warm eyes and long, long black hair. "I'm good. Was just working on the workroom a little. Cleaning." Jacks winked at him, reaching out to put a hand on his chest. "You're racing, man." "Always running." Busy, busy—running with the pack, working at the bank, the scent of people everywhere. "Well, here you can just sit a bit, okay?" Leaning down, Jackson pressed their foreheads together. "Rest." Those eyes were the darkest brown he'd ever seen, the rim around the irises a deep gray. Fuck, he'd missed them. 189


Jackson grinned, then kissed him lightly. "I'm glad you came here, baby." Where else would he go? No matter how they fought and scrapped, Jackson was home. "There wasn't anywhere else I wanted to be." "Then you made the right choice. So did I, letting you in. I almost shot you." That was said with a laugh, too, so he knew better. Knew Jackson would never hurt him like that. "Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." He took a deep breath, pulling the good scents of Jackson in. "Uh-huh. And steaks. Almost cooked. For us, anyway." They both grinned at that one, the fact they used to argue about how long to cook the damned meat hanging right there. "I missed your face." He shouldn't have left. He should have stayed with Jackson. "Yeah?" Scooting right down, Jacks wrapped around him, sort of cuddling right in. Just like that. "I missed you, too. Sort of wandered until I found here. Away." Oh. Oh, yes. It was more than he could do, not to hum and moan, wallow into those muscles. "I thought I'd never find it." "I ... well, I wanted to be out where no one else came. Just the coyotes and lizards." Jackson shrugged, nuzzling at him. "I needed the solitude." Yeah, and he'd needed the crush of people everywhere just to shut that voice in him that kept howling for his mate. He guessed they all took what they fucking needed. 190


"I don't want to push, baby, but sometime soon you're gonna have to tell me who had you. What we need to do to prepare if they do come." Jacks was always the practical one. "Soldiers." He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to growl. "Soldiers and doctors. They took ten of us. There were two others left when I escaped." Two bitches, one left mindless and broken, the other paralyzed. He'd never forget the look in her eyes as he killed two guards and hit the window. "Jesus, baby. You weren't shitting me? What the fuck?" Hugging him tight, Jackson breathed air into his space, the scent calming him again. "They did tests. Made us change without the moon." He'd been cut and beaten, starved and driven nearly out of his mind. "They want to make soldiers that can change at will, eventually. They want to breed the women." The shakes took him again, the wolf snarling and forcing itself to the surface again and he fought it back. "Shhh. Shh, baby. It's not time yet. You're all messed up." It wasn't an accusation. Just soothing words, spoken against his skin. "I know. They inked me, made me theirs. Shaved me." He'd howled for days after that. Days. "No. Never theirs. Mine. My mate, baby. No matter what." One hand stroked down his side where the barcode lay on his skin like a mark of ownership. "When you get strong enough we'll cut it, scar it ... No one will ever see it and know what it is." 191


"Jacks." Oh, fuck. Something deep inside him cracked, and he whined with it. "That's it, baby. Just let it out. God knows we don't internalize for shit..." That hard body covered his, just pressing down, making it easy for him to be less than alpha, just for a bit. "They fucking caged me..." His howl bubbled up out of him, raw and rough. Houston ranted. He raved. He struggled. Jackson let him rage, let him do what he needed, holding him when it got too much and he lashed out. Keeping him from hurting either of them. When the storm passed, he was lathered and panting, eyes rolling in his head like dice. His scent, though, was him and Jacks, the foreign chemicals worked out of his skin. When he slumped down under Jackson, the man rolled off him and picked him up, hauling him easily to the shower. "There we go, man. Let's get us all clean. Get it all gone." He nodded, refusing to look at himself in the mirror. "Hot water." "Very. Soap. Us all slick." Grinning, Jackson stripped off and started the water up. "Slick." He stared at Jackson, watching the muscles move under the deeply tanned skin. He remembered the first time he'd seen Jacks bare. He'd chased the big asshole for months, panting like a puppy. It had been work, Jackson really doing that whole lone wolf thing. Man, when they'd finally gotten naked, it had been explosive. 192


He'd been cocksure, and so randy that he hadn't been able to hold back; he'd pounced and rubbed off on one strong thigh. It would have been embarrassing, if Jackson hadn't looked so fucking happy. The man had stroked his hair then, kissing his neck and cheeks, telling him he was beautiful and hot and amazing. Kinda like Jacks was doing right now, pulling him under the shower. Back then it hadn't been a lie. Still, he needed the comfort of that touch, of his mate's hands. The water cleansed the sweat away, the soap smelling like pine and lemons. But it was Jackson's scent that he focused on, them together that made him lean and sigh. He nuzzled into Jacks' throat, daring to lick and taste the vulnerable flesh. Stilling, Jackson held him, just going quiet and letting him explore. Not a fucking ounce of submission lay in the man, but a lot of fucking heart. Just all for him. Houston closed his eyes, searching Jackson's body with his fingers and lips. He found new scars that he didn't remember, heavier patches of hair, lines. The second his mouth left Jackson's throat, the man started touching back, washing him with long, soapy strokes. God, it felt good. Right. They made noises that he had only dreamed about for years—soft growls and little yips and rumbling moans. Just like they were pack, more than human, more than wolves. It was all about getting to know each other again, and all about how some things had never changed. Finally Jacks 193


pushed him against the wall and set those sharp teeth to his throat, marking him right up. Jackson's mark. "Yours." Please. He went still, chin lifted for Jackson's mouth. A low growl that meant nothing else sounded, Jacks biting down hard, giving him what he needed to erase some of the stench of that fucking cage. Jackson. Jackson. Mate. Jackson. The words throbbed in his head, over and over like a motherfucking prayer to the moon. Jackson pushed him down on the tile floor, his back against the wall, pushing between his legs to rub hard on him. Those teeth kept worrying his skin, making him pant. His cock surprised him, trying to fill, to respond to Jacks, to reach for that rough paw. "That's it, baby. That's it. Just feel." Sweet. It just felt so sweet to have someone touch him with care, with heat. He spread a bit, heart pounding. He couldn't be worried, not with Jackson's thick hair against his cheek, not with the scent of Jackson all around him. A low moan came across loud and clear, Jackson licking along his chin, little love bites following each one. Jesus, he was going to burn up, if Jacks kept that up. Jackson's chest felt like home to his fingers, the way the broad chest dipped into lean hips as familiar as breathing. His thumbs traced circles around Jacks' hips, moving slow. "Mmmmm." Oh, growly. Like, hot growly, something he'd never thought he would hear again. Look at that beautiful 194


man, wet and slick and moving on him like he was the best thing since sliced bread. "Thought I'd lost this." He nipped Jacks' ear, one hand wrapping around Jacks' hip. "Got me now. Not gonna let you go again." There. Oh, there. Jackson moved against him, cock hard and hot against his belly, sliding up and down. His ass slid on the tile, eyes rolling wildly as they started humping and snarling and loving each other. It wasn't easy and it wasn't gentle. It never was. Jacks bit at him, scratched him, nails scoring the marks on his side. Threatening. Promising. Houston let himself go, let his voice and his need and his passion free, trusting in Jackson to take it. Jacks took it all and then some, two fingers sliding right inside his body, claiming him there, too. Washing everything else away. Those eyes never left him, that light ring around the edge threatening to swallow the dark. "Yours." He bore down, squeezed tight, hoping Jacks felt him, knowing Jacks would. "Mine. Mine, baby. Not gonna make it inside you this time." Jackson's free hand brought their cocks together, that big body twisting against, arms all crossed. But it worked. Goddamn, it worked. "Uhn." He wasn't sure what that meant; it was just all he had to say as he shot, seed pouring from him. Approval, love, need ... he could hear it all in Jackson's cry, the sound almost a full howl, deep and rough. Then Jacks was coming for him. He'd seen that in his dreams at night. 195


He slid down, licking and lapping Jackson's belly, that heavy cock, the soft balls. The flavor overwhelmed him, flooded him and he keened. Finally he just lay there, exhausted, but feeling clean for the first time in who knew how long. Jacks stroked his head, murmuring nonsense words. Home. He was home. Houston prayed that they would let him stay long enough to enjoy it. **** God, Jackson was ready to kill something. Preferably a solider, one who would put his proud lover in a cage and shave him and mark him. If he had one handy, he would do just that, shred that sumbitch with teeth and claws until there was nothing left. For now he'd have to settle for a real hunt. The full moon called, vibrating along his spine, making him squirm and whimper as his body readied for the change. Soon. Soon. Padding naked and barefoot around the house, Jacks listened to Houston sleep, the deep breathing as relaxed as the man had been since he came. The moon should be calling Houston, too, should be waking the man up and drawing the beast up. Hell, Houston's wolf was as close to the surface as he'd ever seen, but his mate just slept.

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Jacks wandered to the pull out bed and slid a hand down Houston's side. He wanted his mate in his bed, but that seemed to be some kind of hurdle. They'd cross it. Houston's eyes popped open, muzzle growing just like that, teeth glowing. "Shh. Shh. Not yet, baby, wait for the moon." He petted the concave belly, all but growling at the loss of muscle. "I. They didn't let us. I broke free and ran." Houston wallowed a little, moving under his touch. "Of course you did. Of course you did, baby. You're strong. So fucking strong. So proud of you." He bent and kissed that bruised throat. "They were gonna take my balls." The words were whispered, so ashamed, so furious. "That's what they did to the others." Fury built in him, the change trying to come before it was time, his hands itching as they tried to morph into claws. His howl stuck in his throat, staying there just so Houston wouldn't have to hear his rage. "You got away. They'll never take you again." "No. No, I'll die first. Never again." Houston nudged his throat, nose sliding on his skin. "I won't bring them to you, either. I swear." Close. The moon was close, shadows sliding over the floor. "If they come here, we'll burn them down. We should get ready to run, baby. It's almost time to hunt." Houston stared at him, the hunger in the too-lean face almost painful. "With you. I'll hunt with you." 197


"You know, it, baby. We'll run together. We'll howl. We'll eat. Missed you." He had, too. It had been an ache he couldn't tear out, even with all the time in the fucking world to contemplate how he was the one who had stayed. Oh. That grin, wild and honest and toothy? That was what he'd been needing. He rose, pulling Houston with him, pulling him to the door of the little adobe, opening it to the cooler evening air. Open range stretched out in front of them as far as the eye could see. Only scrub brush and cactus dotted the horizon, the sounds of small animals scuttling about making him twitch with the need to run. "Look at that desert. Waiting for us." Houston's nostrils flared, eyes searching the sky, the moon. "I thought she'd fallen from the sky." "Now you know better." Smacking that too-skinny ass, Jacks laughed for the sheer joy of the night. "Come on, baby." "Yeah. Yeah, Jacks." Houston's body rippled, eyes suddenly sharp and bright. The moon broke right up over the horizon then, and boom, the change was on him, leaving him writhing, shedding his human skin. All he could do was howl his joy at having Houston right there beside him. Houston stood beside him, fur matted and ruined, one ear drooping, but that tail was high, nose wet and sniffing the air. All Houston needed was to hunt, to eat fresh meat. He'd get his gloss back, get his strength. Jackson started slow, sniffing his way away from the house, knowing something small would go down best. A jackrabbit, maybe. 198


Houston followed, getting sidetracked by the littlest things, just like always. The bounce was less pronounced, the spring in Houston's legs all but wound down, but his mate still wandered off the scent every few steps. Sometimes it was good to know things didn't change. He kept Houston on track with growls and yips, nips and barks. Christ, there was still a hint of the pup left, just the barest bit, and he could just wallow in it. In his mate come home. A flash of motion caught his eye and they were off, running hard in the bright moonlight. Houston couldn't go as fast as before, but it was enough to catch them something. His mate might have been slower, but the hunger was driving him, driving them both, Houston snapping at the hare's heels. The rough ground crumbled away under their feet, sharp plants trying to grab at them. Putting on a burst if speed, Jacks turned in front of the rabbit, pushing it right back into Houston. Houston snapped, the hare's scream sudden and sharp, huge feet kicking at the ground. The scent of a fresh kill made him dance and snap at the air. Houston ripped the jackrabbit open, snarling and growling and protecting the kill. Even so, even as lost as Houston was, the choice bits were nosed over, offered to him. Oh. Sweet mate. He pushed the heart back to Houston, knowing the strongest part of the hare would make his love well again. Houston snapped it up, both of them bending to eat, the peace and pleasure between them ringing out. 199


They'd hunt some more, then maybe curl nose to tail and sleep part of the night under the stars. Contrary to what most folks believed, they weren't mankillers. Not unless they had to be. They just had to give in to the wolf. Houston came close, grooming him carefully, tongue sliding over his face and fur and loving him. Whiskers tickling, he let his tongue loll, laughing and loving. Jackson panted a little, the heat of the hunt all over him. They'd needed this, him and Houston both. Houston lifted his muzzle to the sky, the cry ringing out—sorrowful and triumphant all at once. His own howl came from deep inside, his snout rising to the sky, his ears back hard. Yeah. God, yeah. Home. Houston came home. He'd fight to protect that with everything in him. No matter what came after them and tried to split them up. He would never let Houston go again. **** He woke up behind the house, curled in the shade of the workshop. They'd run and hunted, romped and napped. They must have landed here. Houston carefully stood, human legs feeling gangly and wrong as he leaned, searching for signs of his mate. Jacks stood a few feet away, naked in the sun, stretching for all he was worth. Even muddy and a little bloody, scratched all up, nothing had ever looked better. "You need a bath." His voice was raw and his muscles ached, but goddamn, he felt good. 200


"Uh-huh." Cheerful as all fuck. Jacks always was after a change. Houston caught himself laughing, just leaning against the workshop and howling with the pure pleasure of being free. Jacks came to him, hugging him, swinging him around. "God, I missed you, baby. My stubborn mate." "Big lug." He pressed close, rubbing their scents together. "Mmmhmm. Yours. Man, I could eat about a pound of waffles." "I remember those. Do you have the stuff to make them?" "I do. Eggs and shit. And I think I might just have bacon." Oh. Bacon. Yeah. That would work. His mouth watered and he pushed harder. He'd do a lot for bacon. Really. Laughing, Jacks picked him right up and carried him into the house. "Water first. Then food. And somewhere in there I might fuck you raw." "Promises, promises." He nipped Jacks' throat, jaw, the lobe of one ear. "Have I ever lied to you?" No. No, Jackson had never done that. Not even when he was leaving and needed to hear it was okay and Jacks had cussed him instead. "No." Jackson was his true north. It might well kill him to have to leave again. "Well, then. There you go." Yanking him close suddenly, Jacks kissed him, hands bruising hard on his ass. It shocked him bad enough that he went still for a second, caught in the hunger before he growled and pushed back, diving into the kiss. That hot tongue pushed into his mouth, hard and deep, claiming him. Yeah. So warm, so salty. 201


Houston rubbed and grabbed, twisting and moaning like a needy pup. The sensation of desire was unfamiliar enough to shock him, to make him work harder. They sank right to the floor, the shower forgotten, everything going white hot and full of static. Jacks pushed him down, covering him, scenting him. The man in him went rabbit-rabbit, his brain telling him to protect himself;, but the wolf? The wolf rejoiced in the way his legs spread instinctively. They rubbed, Jacks making him forget everything but the scent of the wolf and the hunt, of need and fucking and love. Goddamn. They rolled across the floor, Jackson growling as he licked the vulnerable belly, nuzzled into Jacks' throat before being rolled again, his own throat nipped. They tussled, both of them growling and laughing. Jacks gave him everything, kisses and nips, touches and rubbing. He growled and yipped, pure joy just pouring from him. He threw his head back, howled with it. Flinging both arms around him, Jacks laughed right out loud. "Love you, baby." "Good." He leaned and licked Jacks' lips. He could hear that, again and again. His stomach growled and Jacks grinned. "Let's eat, H. To hell with clothes and washing." "Waffles." He panted and nodded. "Bacon." Bacon. "You got it." Someone had always loved to feed him, had a thing for it. Jacks always said food was love. The man got up, hauled him up, and set him to cracking eggs. 202


Home. He was home. He poured them both a glass of milk, lapping at the cold cream. Home. The smell of the waffle iron heating made him want to whine, made the memories of a hundred summer Sundays come back to him. He should never have left. He stared into the glass, the weight on his shoulders seeming huge. Sorry. He was so sorry. Warm hands landed on his shoulders, rubbing deep into the muscles. "Has the milk gone bad?" "No. No, I did. I should have listened to you, Jacks. I should never have left." A soft kiss was pressed to his neck. "You did what you did. So did I. We're here, now. I have a lot of territory to show you." "I want to see it all." He needed to see where to hide. "I'll show it to you." Jacks' smile pressed right into his skin. "I'll show you everything." Houston nodded, reaching back for Jacks' hand. "I'll take you up on that." "Then we'll do it." Jacks went back to making breakfast, the sizzle of bacon and the smell of waffles and syrup surrounding him. It wouldn't always be this easy. He and Jacks were too volatile for that. But right now Jacks was giving him just what he needed. A place to run to. That would be enough to start with. **** 203


Jacks tried not to push. He really did. But he wanted Houston in bed with him at night, not curled up like a rescue puppy on the fold out. He wanted to stop sneaking out in the middle of the night and curling around that too-skinny form, the bar under the mattress digging into his back. Slipping into the living room, he watched Houston toss and turn, watched the long, too-pale legs shift restlessly while Houston growled and whined. Okay. Okay, that was it. He couldn't take anymore. His hands slid over Houston's skin, his voice low and soothing when he crooned. "I got you, baby. I got you." "Huh? Jacks. Oh..." Jacks nodded. "You know it would be easier to hold you if I didn't have to come out here all the time." Houston's eyes shone in the dark, the animal gloss coming through in the low light. "I'm not sure I. I mean. I just don't want to..." "Am I crowding you? Does sleeping with me make you scared?" Goddamn those fucking soldiers. What had they done to his poor mate? "No! I mean, I sleep with you fine here." One hand touched his cheek, shaking the tiniest bit. "Then what?" He stared into those eyes, trying to make Houston see that he was safe, that Jacks wanted to know what he could do to make it right. "I left. It's not my bed," Houston finally said, eyes dropping to the floral comforter that had been Jacks' mother's. 204


"Oh, bullshit." If that was it, if he had been sleeping alone and listening to Houston breathe a room away all this time for this? Shit. Jacks rolled off the couch, grabbing Houston and lifting him right up. "No more couch, baby. You're coming to bed with me." "Are you sure?" Mate. He could hear Houston whisper that against his throat, that spiky new hair rubbing his skin. "I'm sure. You're home, baby. This is where you belong." He'd do whatever it took to convince Houston of that. Anything at all. **** Houston wandered around Jacks' bedroom, touching the top of the oak dresser, feeling the dust rub against his fingertips. Jacks was always neat, but he hated to dust, and out in the desert it was always dusty. The bedroom seemed more like his now. Hell, it smelled like him, along with Jacks, the scent of their skin and hair and come everywhere. The blankets and sheets had his impression in them. They'd done just about everything in the last forty eight hours. Everything but fuck. Jacks had never offered to roll him over and push into him. Oh, there had been fingers. Jack's tongue. But not ... that. The little TV stand had a beer cooler on it. Jacks said TV didn't come in for shit out here, so he'd gotten rid of all of the 205


sets but one, the one hooked up to a DVD player in the living room. God knew, Jacks had never been one for technology at the best of times. The sound of the front door opening had his back up, the hair rising on his arms, but then Jacks poked his head through to the bedroom, staring at him quizzically. "What's up, baby?" Jacks asked, coming on in. God, heat and sweat was a good look for Jacks; a good smell, too. "Just wandering. What can I do to help?" He was starting to ask things like that, starting to think of Jacks' place as homegoodhome. "There's some yard work." "That yard is all cactus." Jacks grinned, a low chuckle sounding. "I'm trying to get it to be, yeah. Better defense than creosote." "Then I'm all for it." He scratched his arms, his feet starting to shuffle again. "What's wrong, baby?" A blink of the eye was all the time he had to see Jacks move, the man pressing right up against him, hands on his ass. "Nothing. I'm good. I ... I was going to dust." He grinned, knowing it was a lie, knowing Jacks knew. "You'll tell me, when you can, yeah? When it's time?" Those eyes were almost all gray, a sure sign that Jacks was worried.

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"I will." That he could do. When he could think about it without wondering if he could do it. When he could tell Jacks what he needed... Yeah. He could do that. **** Jacks finished digging out the damned bush that was trying to knock the lean-to wall in, wiping sweat off his face. Fucking hot. Like surface of the sun hot. He sighed, rolling his head on his neck. God, he wished he had a cold beer, but they were out. Maybe just some cold water. The splash of water hit him, square in the back, cold and shocking and ... He spun, getting a snootful of water from the hose, Houston laughing at him. Sputtering, he made a rush for the man, admiring the newly suntanned skin, the hair that was growing out glossy and fine. Someone was on the mend, and damned if Jacks didn't get a happy every time he realized it. Houston turned and ran, lean and quick, darting through the dried grass, muscles working. Giving chase made him laugh out loud, made him put on burst of speed and try to get at Houston's heels. His lover had put on a great deal of muscle. His mate was laughing, the sound ringing out, just filling the air. How he loved that fucking sound. Jacks ran faster, herding Houston toward the stand of rocks that would cut him off. 207


Houston fell for it, heading right for the rocks, legs working. Distracted momentarily by the sight of muscles shifting under tight skin, he almost lost his chance. Then Jacks zigged when Houston zagged, and that was it. They hit the ground and rolled, covering themselves with a fine layer of sandy grit. Houston's eyes shone, that laughter not fading a bit. "Man, you're getting better, baby. You gave me a hell of a chase." Damn, it felt good to laugh in the sun, to just let go and be. "Mmm. You still caught me." Houston nuzzled, humming low. "Yeah. Well..." Laughing, he rolled them over and over, getting almost muddy as their sweat mixed with the sand. "I'll always hunt you down now, you know?" "Swear it." Houston's eyes were serious, staring into him. "You have my vow." Jacks stared right back, willing Houston to believe it. Willing the man to believe it was true. "Mate." The word was little more than a growl, Houston right there, with him. "Mine," he agreed, biting at that long, thin throat. "Very much mine." "Yes." Houston held him close, vibrating and growling and rubbing against him. "Want you. Right here. Right now." Damn, but he was hard suddenly. Just shaking with it. He needed to stake his claim. "Take me. I'm yours." Houston bit his ear, hard. 208


Growling, he pushed Houston up, spreading those wiry legs and pushing between them. They didn't have a lot of time for pleasantries, but he did make sure they were grit free. "Need." He got another bite, another, moving down toward his throat. "Ready then?" He wouldn't hurt Houston for the world, but after the change his lover had always liked it hard and fast. "Now. Make me yours again." They'd fucking taken so much from his mate. "Yes. Mine." Surging up and forward, he pushed his cock against that sweet hole, feeling it give for him. Open for him. Houston moaned, bore down and took him in, just so easy, like it was fucking supposed to be. Of course, that was it. It was supposed to be. Him and Houston. Mated. Jacks pushed in and out, just moving his hips like there was no tomorrow. Houston's arms wrapped around his neck, holding on, fingers digging in. "Baby..." His whole body arched over Houston's, his teeth sinking in and really marking up one shoulder. Drawing a little blood. Bonding. "Jacks." Houston bucked, body sliding on his prick, muscles gripping his shaft. "Yours." It went both ways and he had to say it. "Need this." Faster and faster, he moved his cock in and out, really rocking Houston back and forth. "Yes." Those hungry eyes stared into him, refusing to look away. 209


Jacks stared back, needing Houston to feel all of him, every inch, every bit of skin. The man had to know he could never leave again. He could see it, the need and the pain and the pure joy Houston felt in this, in being his, in being home. If those men ever came for him, Jackson would rip them to pieces and let the coyotes have them. For now, though, he'd concentrate on loving Houston into a puddle. Houston's hands mapped his chest, fingers sliding through the mat of hair on his chest, tugging and teasing around his nipples. "Mmm." The deep rumble vibrated all through him, right into Houston. Good. More. "Yeah. More." The touches became pinches and the barest scratches. "Harder." Houston needed to give some of his own back, to know that if he went too far Jacks would back him down. He needed the pack structure... Houston nodded, pushed up and bit at his throat, nails dragging hard. That was it. Fuck yes. It took him over, made him wild, and Jacks fucked Houston harder. Moaning, he braced himself on one arm, the other hand sliding along that hot skin. Houston's growls vibrated his throat, over and over. "Yeah. Yeah, baby. Wrap your legs around me. We're going to town." More. They needed more. The laugh he got was rough, wild. "No. No more towns. Not for me." He howled his laughter, his hips starting to jerk, their dance getting clumsy. Goddamn. 210


Houston's hand found that heavy cock, started jerking hard, the back of that hand rubbing his belly. "Oh. Oh fuck." He was so close he was shivering with it. Jacks moved harder, faster, all but sliding them along the hard earth, his body begging Houston to come for him. Heat sprayed between them, Houston howling out his name, the sound ringing out, echoing. That was it. That was all Jacks needed to send him over the edge. He shot so hard he grayed out a little, his balls emptying in great, forceful pulses. "Mate. Mate. Mate." Houston whispered it, over and over, like a prayer or something. "I've got you, baby. Got you so good. Love you." That was his own mantra. His very own fucking truth. "Love." Houston nodded, kissed his throat. "Shower?" "God, yes." Now that they were done? He was feeling a lot like wet sandpaper. "Then food." "Food." Houston's belly could rumble. Damn. "You know it, baby. Come on." He hauled Houston up, heading toward the house. With Houston back with him, it seemed more like a home. Even if they were hauling mud in on their asses. **** The smell of chocolate and butter and shit had Jackson following his nose to the kitchen. Fuck, he couldn't remember the last time his kitchen had been used to make anything but breakfast and steaks. 211


Now he could smell cookies. Maybe that trip to the market had been worth something after all. Because damn. Chocolate chips. "Lord, baby. It smells good in here," he told Houston, wandering in and brushing flour off the counter into the sink. It looked good, too, Houston's sweet ass swaying a little to some internal music. "Yeah? I was hungry. I haven't had these in years." It looked like a good chunk of the chocolate chips were gone already—either into the cookies or into Houston. "Yeah?" Jacks thought about it. "Me either. So this is good." Nabbing a bit of dough, he leaned against the counter, smiling at how good Houston looked. "Yeah." Houston had stopped jumping at every noise, had stopped going wolfy at the drop of a hat. The man had also stopped talking about anything—anything—that had happened from the time Houston'd headed west to the day he'd shown back up. That probably wasn't good, but Jackson hated to complain, because Houston looked like he was healing. They needed to start working on getting rid of the rest of the physical signs... The stove timer dinged and Houston pulled a tray out. The cookies weren't beautiful, but damn him they smelled great. Reaching for one just got him burned fingers, but the ooeygooey goodness of it in his mouth soon made up for it. Houston chuffed in pleasure, sliding in close enough to lick the corner of his mouth clean. "Mmm." His sticky hand curled around Houston's waist, the pads of his fingers tracing the line of rib and hip. "Hey." 212


"You want another?" Houston leaned, hips rocking into him. "Uh-huh." Oh, someone had eaten lots of chocolate. Lots. It had always made Houston happy. "It's good." Yeah, yeah, he could smell how good it was, in Houston's musk, in the hint of need on that fine skin. "It is." Jacks rubbed right back, loving on the man, hands searching out all the sensitive spots. Beautiful man. Fucking glorious wolf. Houston moved under his touch, shifting and growling subvocally, calling to him. Calling back with low sounds for Houston's ears alone, Jacks pushed the man back against the counter, pushing between his legs. He got nuzzled and licked, Houston scenting him, tongue sliding on his jaw. "Sweet, baby. So sweet." Not just the cookies. Houston made him want to howl with joy. "Jacks. Want." The soft hair was starting to grow out, long enough to feel good against his skin instead of tickling. "What do you want, baby?" Like he didn't know. There was no way he could miss that hot prick when it slid into his hand, reaching for his touch. "You." Those sharp teeth caught his ear, tugging at it and making it sting. "Got me. Any way you want me, baby." His own hips arched, begging, his cock hard and leaking, just like that. "Jacks." His oral mate started sliding, tongue slipping on his skin as that hungry mouth headed south. "Mmm." Oh, it had taken too long for Houston to feel easy doing anything. Now it came more easily, more often, and 213


Jacks fucking reveled in it. "That's it, baby. Take what you want." One of his nipples got a sharp bite and enough suction to make him ache, then Houston kept going, licking at his belly. Muscles quivering, Jacks moved closer, his hand cupping the back of Houston's head. Fuck, he wanted. And not just cookies. "Smell good." The growl echoed through him as Houston nuzzled his cock, tongue sliding across the tip. "Do I taste better than chocolate?" Grinning down, he stroked Houston's cheeks, thumbs sliding to rest at the corners of those fine lips. "Mmhmm." Houston reached up, dragged his fingers along the cookie sheet, gathering up a bit of melted chocolate and sliding them into that hungry mouth alongside his cock. "Oh, fuck." That was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Well, possibly the hottest thing. At least since Houston had come back. The suction got harder, Houston sucking his cock, those long fingers, all at the same time. The deep growls were enough to send him over the fucking moon; the way Houston openly needed him now just made him wild. His balls drew up, his teeth grinding as he fought the orgasm riding up along his spine. He needed to make this last a bit. Just like a good dessert. Those pretty eyes stared up at him, shining as long, slick fingers popped out of Houston's lips and pressed behind his balls. Oh. Oh, Houston was pushing. The question was, did he let that push go anywhere? Or did he shut Houston down. Once upon a time he would have 214


resisted. Now, just maybe, he thought Houston might need that tiny bit of give. That touch didn't make him growl, either, one finger slipping inside deep enough to rub his gland, work it as that head bobbed over his cock. Every muscle in his body tried to seize up, his hips pumping, his cock fucking that mouth like there was no tomorrow. He just ... damn. "Houston..." Those eyes ... Fucking hell. Houston took him all the way in, swallowing and sucking, that touch inside him threatening to make him scream. All he could do was stare down into those amazing amber eyes and let it all go, let himself come like a freight train. Just like that. Everything in him poured right out. Houston groaned, swallowing and sucking, cleaning him off with that hot tongue. "Oh. Baby. So good." He petted and stroked that head of growing hair, showing how much he loved, how he admired. Listen to that happy sound. Houston leaned into his touch, nuzzling his belly and balls, playing with him, loving on him. Shivers wracked his body, every particle awake and alive and just fucking happy. "Love you, Houston." He cupped those lean cheeks in his hands, tipping Houston's face up. "You know that, right?" "I know." Houston kissed the base of his thumb, lips swollen and hot. "Mate." "Mmmhmm. Who else would make me cookies?" Laughing, he sank right to his knees, kissing Houston square on the mouth. Oh. Him. Houston tasted like him with a hint of chocolate. 215


Fucking A. He kissed so hard their lips pushed back against their teeth, reaching down to see if Houston needed a little help with the happy, just because. That heavy prick slid across his palm, hotter than the hinges of hell as it dragged. God, yeah. He grabbed a hold, pulling at Houston's prick. Sweet. Hot. So fucking needy. Houston bared his teeth, head tossing as he bucked. The tip of Houston's cock slid along his palm, wet and slick. "Got you, baby. Feel you. Need to see it." He wanted every bit of need, every bit of love. There. Right there in his hand. "Yours." Houston's motions sped, those lean hips rocking furiously into his touch. "Mine. All mine." God, that man. Smell that musk, the scent making his mouth water a lot harder than the cookies ever had. Jacks pushed Houston down, nuzzling his belly, licking his way to that hot cock. Houston was as needy as he'd ever been, bucking up with a wild cry, thighs hard as rocks. He just pushed those hips back down and took Houston all the way in, rubbing his tongue up and down. Fucking A. He could die happy. Good goddamn thing he didn't have to, because Houston was howling out his name, bittersalty seed hot on his tongue. Drinking the man right down, Jacks moaned and licked and nuzzled, giving praise. He left a tiny bruise on that flat belly, just by the navel. Right at the tender part. Marking. Houston reached down, stroking the mark with a rumble that sounded as satisfied as he felt. 216


"Good, baby. Real good." The cookies started to smell real good again, reminding him that he needed to eat a few more. "Almost as good as chocolate." Houston chuckled, bit him. "Almost." **** Jackson had a huge plot of land. Huge. It took three hours and thirty eight minutes a night to patrol it. Houston slipped from bed at two a.m., every day the moon wasn't full, and walked it. Sometimes the wolf took him, sometimes it didn't. Tonight it had and he'd run until he'd forgotten himself, only heading back when the sun was turning the sky pale and his paws were raw. He was maybe fifty yards from the house when Jacks appeared right in front of him, growling at him like the fucking alpha he was. Beautiful bastard. Houston growled back, teeth bared. He could have a little fight. Padding right up to him, the wolf right there, Jacks bristled, teeth bared. Oh, yeah. They could snarl and tear a little. His claws dug into the dirt as his muscles bunched, his whole body readying to pounce. Jacks came right at him, barreling into him with amazing speed for someone who had been standing still. They rolled in the dirt, both of them snapping at legs and throats. 217


By the moon his mate was strong. Fortunately, he had rage to fuel him. Neither of them fought to kill, but they fought hard and true, Jacks' teeth closing on his tail and making him yelp. Sharp. Such a bright, sharp pain. Houston could feel himself fading, feel his hold on the wolf shifting, making him pant and stumble. Damn it. Jacks backed right off, circling him, nudging him with that long muzzle. The man always knew. Always. Always had. Houston moved toward his mate, whining softly and licking Jacks' lips. Chuffing, Jacks licked back, grooming him a bit before starting to herd him toward the house. Rest. Food. Rest. He could hear it all in the low growls. Rest. He groaned, so in love it hurt. Home. Home. Home. Jacks took him home, the wolf leaving them the minute they hit the door. Left him weak as a baby. Jacks sort of folded next to him, warm skin pressed close to his. "Jackson." He panted, head on the floor. "Mmmhmm. Baby, what is it? What are you looking for?" One hand slid up his side, tracing his ribs. "Not looking. Waiting. Watching." Watching to make sure they couldn't get Jackson. "You got to trust me, Houston. Trust that I can protect you." His big, bad wolf. All growly on his behalf. And Jacks honestly thought he could keep them safe. 218


"They'll come, Jacks. They'll come and take you, if they can." They'd take Jackson's balls. They'd mark him. Shave him. Ruin him. Just like they'd ruined Houston. "No." So low it was almost a sub-vocalization, Jacks growled the word, rolling him to his back. Sharp teeth closed on his throat, the classic sign of the alpha making a point. "No." He howled, eyes rolling in his head. He wanted to believe. He needed to, but he just couldn't. Jacks pushed between his legs, spreading him, forcing his attention to one thing. Hot, male, all Jacks. Right there. Nothing else mattered. Their eyes snapped together, Jackson holding his gaze like those big eyes were the moon herself. All of that confidence, all of that need ... Everything he ever wanted was right there for him to take. "I won't let them have you. You're mine." He never looked away from Jacks' gaze. "Yours, baby. All yours. No one is gonna have me but you." He got a kiss, one that curled his toes right up. His body went hard in a rush, desire and need flooding him. "That's it." Jacks said it against his mouth, lips moving on his. Yeah. Damn. Now. He spread, planting his feet and dropping his knees out. Now. Nodding, growling, Jacks pushed right up against him, cock rubbing against his hole. Ready for him. Eager. He leaned up, bit Jacks' throat, shaking a little as he begged for it, needed it. 219


"Got what you need, baby." Oh, yeah. Yeah. He needed what Jacks was giving him, that cock sliding right into him, hot as a brand. Hard as stone. The screaming and worrying inside him eased, pushed away by the pressure inside him, that heat over him. "Love ... love you, baby." Jacks had told him that more in the last month than he had the whole time they'd been together before. "Love." He nodded, teeth bared with the pure pleasure of it. They rocked, Jacks working him, hips just pushing against him with bruising force. Yeah. Every thrust moved him, made him slide along. They slapped together, Jacks' cock pushing deeper as his hands connected with the wall, giving him something to brace against. Sharp teeth latched on to his throat again, biting down hard. Every move they made set those teeth harder into him. Shit yes. The sting made him feel incredibly alive. He was trapped there, head tossing, teeth snapping at the air as Jackson loved him, spread him wide open. His whole body shook with it, his muscles tight as frozen rope. Jesus, he was just going to explode. Jacks howled for him, the sound triumphant as all hell. He shot, without even a touch to his cock, his body tightening around Jacks, holding him in. "Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna..." Jack shouted, coming hard inside him, just filling him deep. All the way to the core. Mate. Mate. Mate. 220


He could hear the word with every heartbeat, with every throb of that cock inside him. Jacks fell on him, pressing him to the floor, both of them gasping for breath. "Oh, fuck, Houston. Needed that. Woke up and you were gone..." "I have to guard you. Our home. They'll come." Stroking his cheek, Jacks licked the corner of his mouth, sharing the salt and heat flavor of them. "Let me help, then. Let me make it right for you." "How?" He chased Jacks' lips, nodding. "We'll set up the perimeter. We'll patrol together if we have to. Get some security. Shit, I don't know. But we can. Fuck, we can go to Mexico. You know how much territory we could get us there?" "Mexico?" Had Jacks lots his mind? "Yeah. What? There are wolves in Mexico." Grinning, Jacks kissed his nose. "Think of all of the tequila." "You've lost your mind." "Baby, I just want to keep you safe." That rumble was just sweet as shit. Jacks wasn't laughing at him. The man was just laughing. "I want to believe you can, mate. I do." His fingers trailed down his side, from the scar where he'd torn the chip out to the ink that marred him. Jacks' hands followed his. "You're almost strong enough, lover. Almost. We'll fix this." "Yeah? I ... It eats at me." "No, baby, that would be me." Oh, someone was full of piss and vinegar now that they'd fought and fucked. 221


He growled, nipping at Jacks' belly idly before padding down the hall. Water. Shower. Possibly nap. **** Jacks watched Houston pace, knowing that his mate was itching to run, or scared he'd have to, scared that someone was gonna come take them away. The full moon was still far enough off that they really didn't need to get hairy. What Houston needed was a distraction. Jacks pondered that. Scrabble? Tiddly winks? Maybe it was time to do something about the ink that marred that fine body, which wasn't nearly so skinny anymore. Rolling to his feet off the couch, Jacks stalked over and stopped Houston mid-pace. "Hey, baby." "Hey." Houston leaned up, nuzzled him. That motion was as natural as breathing. "Mmm. You smell good." He was gonna get distracted if he wasn't careful. "You taste good." He got another lick, another nibble and nuzzle. "Yeah?" Shivery good, that tiny touch. His nipples went hard, his cock stirring. "Well, what are we gonna do about it, baby?" 222


"Is that a rhetorical question?" Houston led him back toward the bed, away from the windows. "No. I mean, uh. What?" Those hands were all over him, making it hard to think. Making him hard as a rock. Houston's chuff tickled his skin, those sharp teeth working the skin above his nipple. "Come on, Houston. Bite, will you?" His body needed the sharp touch. The sting. "Pushy asshole." Houston's light eyes glinted, the bite right there, teasing him. "Always. Want!" Growling, he pulled Houston right up to his skin, arching into the touch of that hot mouth. Houston bit hard, teeth bruising the skin, shocking the muscle in his chest. Jerking, he growled happily, his hands going to Houston's shoulders to hold on. Jacks' hips rolled up, his cock rubbing against Houston's belly. The bites moved lower and lower, Houston not moving him anymore. Growling, Jacks pushed at Houston's head, trying to get that mouth where he needed it. God, he was gonna bust. Explode. Houston had him flying. His fucking evil mate skipped his cock, nuzzling his balls, pulling one into that heated mouth. Jacks' body tried to crawl right into that mouth, his hips rolling in a tight circle, his skin covered in goosebumps. Houston's eyes shone up at him, bright as the moon. That tongue slid over the skin of his balls, soft as anything and ten times as good.

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"Baby. You got me. Anything. Please." Jacks just needed more. More pressure, more heat. He was addicted. Fucking addicted. That mouth popped off him and Houston growled. "Love." Then his cock was taken in to the root. Fuck yes. Fuck. Yes. Shouting, he started fucking that sweet mouth, pure instinct taking him over. His body was just driving to the finish. His mate took him in, swallowing and sucking, demanding all he had. Now. Jacks came hard, his breath whooshing out, his hips snapping. Jacks' belly felt hard as a board, and his balls seemed like they were gonna empty out forever. Strong fingers rolled them in their sac, making sure Houston got him all. Houston's other hand was on his hip, holding on tight. "Jesus fuck, baby." His back hit the floor with a slap, the sweat just running on him. "Gonna make me go kaboom one of these days." "No. No explosions. Keeping you." Houston was licking his prick, tongue sliding almost idly. It was almost too sensitive, and his toes curled up, a long flex and release. "Yours, baby." "Mine." The touches slid down to his balls, moving them carefully. "I want their mark gone, Jackson. I need you to do that." "I can do that, baby. I surely can. How do you want it? We can do it with scars. We can do it with some India ink..." There were a lot of things they could do. He'd do them all for Houston. 224


"I don't know. I need you to make it yours." That haunted look was back, bound with a pure fury. "Shh. Shh. Hush, baby. I got you." He wasn't gonna make Houston think about it anymore. He was just gonna do it. And he'd need Houston to call up the wolf for it to take. "You always have. You should have run, when I came for you." Right, like he could have done that. Houston had hunted him like a wounded deer. "Like I would run from you, baby. Sit up. I need to get some stuff." He needed a razor; his claws would do some, but the rest... Houston rolled up, nodding, nervous energy pouring between them. Gaining his feet, he reached out and touched Houston's cheek. "Think of the wolf, baby. Think of him, but stay right here. Got it?" He put all of his alpha in his voice. "Yeah. Yeah, Jacks. I hear you." That was his mate, the trust in him. "Good. Be right back." The sharp straight razor was in a trunk in the bedroom. Only it would do. He didn't bother with the alcohol. They never needed it to heal. Houston was waiting, eyes glowing, panting and making soft whines and chirps, calling to him. "Right here, baby. Right here for you." He showed Houston the razor, letting it register, letting the man get the idea settled in. No way did Jacks want a fight on his hands.

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Those eyes didn't panic, though. There was a need there, not fear. Somewhere his mate had lost the fear of pain; they'd stolen it. He put a hand on the back of Houston's neck, leaning his forehead against his mate's for just a moment. "Gonna fix you right up. I love you." "Love." Houston looked at him, loved him with a stubborn will that hadn't changed since the first time he'd let the cub in. "Lay back." He spread Houston out for him, pushing that one arm up so he could get to the marked side. Rage built in him, but he tamped it down. This had to be about love. About claiming. He wasn't gonna do it in anger. Not when his lover's blood ran bright red under his blade, a line of molten fire springing up on Houston's skin. Houston groaned, took a deep breath. "Yours. I have always been yours." "Always. Even when you left. Even when they had you. I was always waiting." Almost meditatively, he drew another line with the razor, the marks starting to take on a pattern, the inked barcode disappearing. "I dreamed of you. Swore I would come tell you I was wrong." Those pretty lips were parted, the sheen of sweat beginning to form. "You were right. You knew." Another cut, then another, slow and sure. He could almost see Houston trying to heal. "More wolf, baby." "More wolf." Houston growled, nose twitching, the hair on the man's chest getting thicker. 226


"That's it. That's it, baby." It was weird, how their bodies worked. How the wolf allowed some things that the human didn't. And vice versa. He cut again, watching Houston's wolf know his touch, love it. Need it. Those eyes glowed for him, Houston's teeth lengthening, shining for him as his mate grinned. Sweet. Look at that. His heart beat faster, his belly thrumming with the feelings washing through him. God, he needed this, too. Needed to claim. One cut after another destroyed the pattern, destroyed the evil on Houston's skin and left his own mark. He made a swirl for the moon, a sweeping muzzle for the wolf. A 'J' for his name. Damn, that was looking better. The skin knit quickly, Houston's sounds getting husky, rough with joy, his mate relaxed under his blade. The scars were doing just what he wanted. He'd have to go over it a few more times, but they were obscuring the marks those bastards had left. He cut again, knowing the blood was necessary. Houston yelped, calling for him, loving him, more wolf than man now. He rumbled, letting his own vocalizations tell Houston he was loved, wanted, his. They were pack. End of story. One last cut and he was done. Just one more, right down the entire line of Houston's ribs. He got a bark, Houston rolling up on all fours, offering him a toothy smile. There. Oh. Perfect. Now he just had to make sure it took. "You're gonna hate this part, baby. But I have to." 227


Houston's head tilted, a questioning trill sounding. "Ash, baby. If I rub some ash in the scars it will keep them open enough to make a good mark." He'd have to do it fast, but he had a bucket waiting by the wood stove. "Trust me?" Houston's answer was to duck that sweet head, rub those cheeks against his thighs. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve Houston. Whatever it was, he hoped he kept doing it. Before the wounds could close completely, he grabbed a double handful of ash and started rubbing it in, soothing noises coming from deep in his chest. Houston groaned, panting against him, whining as the muscles shuddered and shook. "I know, baby. I know. It'll be over soon." It would. The wolf body would heal right over the ash, leaving the raised pieces of skin. It would leave grayish marks on the human body. Yeah. God, yeah. His mate let himself go, let the wolf take him over, those familiar eyes staring at him over the long muzzle. So beautiful, now that his coat had grown in some, now that the muscles were coming back. Once he was done with the ash, Jacks let himself push his fingers into that thick fur and scratch. He loved on his mate hard. That long tail wagged, Houston's eyes crossing when he hit a sweet spot, tongue lolling. Laughing, he rolled them to the floor, scratching at that fine belly, the soft fur tickling his fingers. His mate licked and nuzzled, chuffing against his skin, playing. Playing. Sweet. 228


They'd get through everything just like they were getting through this. They would. Jacks stroked down the side that was scarring up as he watched, nodding his head. Yeah. They'd do it. They would survive it all and be stronger. Together. **** Houston pounced Jackson as his mate came in the front door, teeth on one broad shoulder. "Fuck me." Hopefully that would be direct and clear enough for his growly, stubborn lover. Three days since they'd snarled and spat, three days since they'd really let themselves argue and Jackson was still staying in the barn. Jacks pushed him away, the move more instinct than anything. Those dark eyes stared right into his before Jacks pounced him in return, just taking him down. He arched and pushed, not wanting to fight too hard, because he needed, but knowing they needed a little struggle for the spice. Come on. Come on, Jacks. Need. Jacks bit him, right on the throat, sucking up a heavy bruise. It had him panting and moaning, had him ready to go. His claws slid down Jacks' back, dragging on the tanned skin. "Mine." Moaning, Jacks rolled them, putting him on top, hauling his ass up to straddle those muscled thighs. "Mine." 229


"Yes." He could no more deny that than he could deny himself. "Fuck me." "Come on, baby. Come on and ride me. Show me how much you want me." All the pent up rage was gone from Jackson's face, just need there now. Houston nodded, reaching right back and taking Jacks in hand. He'd slicked and stretched, promising himself a good, hard fuck, and this was it. He growled and sank onto Jacks' prick, almost howling with pleasure. "Fuck! Baby. More. Move, Goddamn it." Those hands clamped down on his hips, moving him up and down, up and down. "Yeah." He nodded, bouncing on Jacks' prick, driving him both higher, harder. "Uhn." That growl had his cock jerking, had chills running up and down his spine. Jacks was all wolf. "Mate." He arched, showing off, showing himself. He wanted Jackson to know how much he loved, to be proud. "Fucking love you," Jacks murmured against his skin, loving him right back, one hand sliding up to trace the scars on his ribs. Those made him beautiful. Made him Jackson's again like nothing else would. And the pride in Jacks' eyes when he looked at them? Made all the snarling and the smarting and waiting worth it. Every bit. He squeezed Jacks' prick, grinning down as Jacks' howled with it. Oh, yeah. Just that. He chuffed, squeezing again. 230


"Baby! Jesus. Love..." Hips rolling up, hands hard on him, Jacks just fucked him like there was no tomorrow. Like he was the whole world. He leaned back, hands landing on Jackson's thighs, that heavy prick sliding deeper. Growling, Jacks humped up, holding him right there, that sweet cock swelling inside him, making him whimper. Yeah. Yeah, he so needed more of that. "There. There. Don't stop." His cock slapped against his belly, hot drops sliding down his shaft. "Fuck no, baby. Not going to stop. Been missing you at night..." Yeah. Yeah, his stubborn Jacks would miss him and still sleep alone. "Come back." It was part-demand, part-plea. "I will. Stupid ... I'm a stupid fuck, baby." The words came out as pants, Jacks' cheeks flushed bright red, sweat running on the man's chest and neck. "Need to be with you." "Mine. Oh, fuck. My cock. Love. Touch me." His motherfucking head was going to pop off. Jacks did just what he asked, reaching down and pulling hard at his prick, making a fist around him. His spine tried to bend back on itself and his mouth dropped open on a moan and that was gonna be all she wrote. He shot so hard the room went white, his teeth coming together with a click as his ass clenched tight. Jacks just roared for him, cock throbbing deep inside him as his mate spent for him, hands almost becoming claws. He could see Jacks' face waver, the wolf trying to come out, it was that powerful. 231


Houston slumped forward, licking Jacks' lips, the pointed chin, the jaw. "Mmm." Low, growly, the noise told him everything Jacks hadn't said the last few days. Love you. Pack. Mine. He nodded in response, humming low. Better. Much better. **** The sound started low. It was just a whine, a tiny noise that woke him, had him listening to see if there was a wounded coyote out there somewhere. Then it started to get louder, and Houston began thrashing next to him, clawing at the air. It made the fucking hair on the back of his neck stand up, had him up on all fours ready to fight off whatever was attacking. Without even thinking. Shit. It was a fucking dream. He couldn't fight anything. But he could wake Houston up. "Baby. Baby, wake up." Those pretty eyes popped open, rolling like dice before they settled. "I got you. I got you, baby. It's okay." He rubbed Houston's shoulders, soft and slow. "Oh. Oh, shit. I." Houston panted, tongue lolling. "Quite a dream, huh? Come on, baby. Shake it off." God, he hated the fear in those eyes. Hated the people who'd put it there. "Yeah. Sorry." Houston rolled out of the bed, padding toward the bathroom. 232


Sighing, Jacks rolled to his back, scratching his chest. Waiting. They needed to talk. They really did. His mate came back, wet-haired and calmer, beer dangling from the long fingers. "You're still awake?" "Uh-huh. Been waiting on you, man." He rolled to his side, propping up on one elbow. "You ready to tell me?" "Tell you what?" The bed dipped, Houston sitting close. "What I dreamed?" "That, too. You never have told me about the soldiers, really." He needed to know. How in Hell could he defend his mate from what he didn't understand?. "I. We had a little house at the beach—it was a little pack; six females and two other males. They came with helicopters." Houston drank half the beer down, long throat working. Jacks resisted the urge to stroke and pet and distract with loving. He needed to know. "Helicopters..." "Yes. Helicopters. We were asleep, just after the moon. So tired. They had tear gas and shit. They rounded us up in a lab on the coast. There were two other packs. I was there ... a long time." "How long, baby?" His hands reached right out, landing on Houston's skin. He couldn't not touch. "I was only gone from you four moons before they got me." Jesus. Jesus. That was ... that was too fucking long to be scared every day. Too long to worry about them taking your fucking balls. "Fuck, baby. No wonder you were so messed up." 233


"I don't ... I don't remember much of parts. There were shots and shocks and ... They have bitches, Jackson. They're breeding bitches." Houston was losing it, shoulders hunching, teeth baring. Crawling over, he took Houston's cheeks in his hands, staring right into those eyes. "You're not there now. You're not. You won't be." Though the temptation to gather a force and go to this lab and wipe it out was strong. "What if they come back, mate? What if they find me and take you, take your balls?" "If they come, we'll kill them. This is our land." There were other wolves out there. Coyote spirits, too. They had friends Houston didn't even know about. "We'll be safe." "I called for you. I knew you couldn't hear, but I couldn't stop." "I'm sorry I didn't come." He rested his forehead against Houston's. "Some nights I thought I heard you howling for me..." "I should have stayed. I was so stupid, mate." "You were young." Young and wanting to alpha his own pack and needing a life that wasn't scrub brush and rabbits. It happened to the best of them. Jacks just wouldn't be out-bigbad-wolfed, and Houston had paid for it. "I was. I broke free. I came home." "Home. I love you, baby." There would be more talks. He needed to know what tests they'd done, why they bred the females and to who, if they were cutting off the males' balls. But that could wait. 234


"I know." Houston put the beer aside, pushing into his arms. "I know. "Good." Hops and yeast and warm wolf. That was what Houston tasted like. It was a fine thing. A fine, fine thing, having Houston home with him. His. They tumbled onto their sides, twined around each other. He could see himself in Houston's eyes. He could see need there, too. Houston wanted him to wipe out the dreams, make him think of something better. Something fine. Something true. All that other, it was lies. Their little pack, their land—that was truth. He pulled Houston right up to him, lips pressing against his mate's, opening that hot mouth up for his tongue. He needed, too. His fingers traced along the scars on Houston's side, the raised ridges making him hard, making him growl. "Mine, baby. All mine. God, I love you." He was just ... God, he was so fucked where Houston was concerned. "Love you." Houston arched up into him, stretching and offering him all of that fine, fine skin. Licking and nibbling, Jacks explored, making happy noises of his own. Yeah. Oh, yeah, look at his marks right there. Houston made the best sounds—low and happy chuffing noises that settled right in his balls. Mmm. Balls. Yeah. Jacks licked some more, lips sliding down Houston's chest and sides. So sweet. Hot. Salty. Houston's muscles jerked and shivered under his lips, under his tongue. 235


"What do you want, baby?" Jacks needed Houston to ask sometimes. Had to hear it out loud. "You. Your mouth. Your cock. I'm yours, mate. Want you." "Oh, good." His mouth this time, he thought. Kissing his way all the way down, he nuzzled each of Houston's thighs, warming the man up. "Good. Jacks." Look at that pretty man spread, eager and unafraid, needing him like no one else ever had. His chin nuzzled those sweet balls, and then Jacks moved up to lick at Houston's cock. God, he loved that taste. Wettipped and dark, that prick throbbed, begging for his lips, his tongue and when he touched the tip of his tongue to Houston's slit, his mate howled for him. Oh, he needed more of that sound. Needed it desperately. Jacks went looking for more taste, more sound. He pushed his tongue against Houston's cock again, then closed his lips around and sucked. His mate went wild for him, fucking his lips, calling out for him, announcing them to the world. That was the most perfect fucking sound in the world. Jacks sucked harder, deeper, reveling in it. His tongue rubbed on every stroke, so sensitive, feeling every beat of Houston's heart. He could taste it as Houston got closer, could see it—those long hands opening and closing on the sheets, over and over. Fucking hot. Necessary. All his. All he could do was make encouraging noises, his hands closing on Houston's thighs, his fingers opening and closing. 236


"Jacks!" Houston rolled up, curling around his head, seed pulsing out into his tongue. Drinking it all down, Jacks licked his lips before kissing the tip of Houston's cock. "Good, baby." "Uh-huh." Houston's head was rolling, the look on his mate's face dazed. He laid his head on Houston's belly, panting a little, a bit dazed himself. Fucking A. "You. What do you need?" Houston petted him, fingers stroking his hair. "I just needed to be with you. Make the dreams go away." Fuck, he was still hard, just shaking with it. "Take me. I'm yours." Houston rolled, ass canted, presented like a gift, just for him. He all but choked on his own drool, moving in to place so fast he figured he'd have rug burn on his knees. Jacks got two fingers wet, pushing them right up against Houston's hole. Houston pushed right back, opening for him easily, taking him down to his hand. "Yes. Yours." "Oh, God. Love. Baby..." His fingers moved in and out for maybe ten seconds. That was all he could stand. Then Jacks was pulling those out and pushing his cock in, shoving hard. Fuck. Fuck, those muscles rippled around him, making him jerk, push deeper, just to feel more. To know more. Reaching around, he put one hand low on Houston's belly, pulling up to get the man closer, get a better angle. Then he buried his face against the nape of Houston's neck, scenting him. 237


Houston bent his head, offering that nape without hesitation. Biting down gave him a happy the size of at least Mexico. Maybe Central America, too. Jacks howled against Houston's skin, his hips starting to pump. "Jackson. Mate." The words were bare growls, Houston meeting each thrust, riding his cock. "Yes. Mine." Lord, how many times had he said that in the last weeks? But he meant it with everything in him. "Yours." He said it because Houston needed to hear it. Because he needed to say it. It went both ways. They needed each other. They made each other stronger. Jacks moved faster and faster, his skin too fucking tight and hot. His mate bore down, squeezing him tight enough he gasped. They rocked together, his hips smacking Houston's ass, his breath coming in great pants. He just couldn't stop. Just kept going. He could feel Houston meet each thrust, body clinging to his cock on each pull. Reaching down, he grabbed Houston's cock, pulling at it in time with their movements. Hot. Wet at the tip. So ready for him. "Yours. Yours. Fuck, Jacks. Soon." "Now, baby. Right now." Jacks couldn't hold back any more, and he wanted to feel Houston around him when he came. "Now." Heat spread over his fingers, muscles squeezed his cock. 238


"Now," he agreed, his cock pushing in one last time before he shot. Jacks came hard, his eyes rolling with it. Houston slumped down to the mattress, panting, just loose and melted under him. The back of that bent neck was irresistible, and Jacks bent to it, licking at the mark he'd made when he bit. Oh, listen to that rumble, that deep, rough, happy sound. "We're good together, baby. No matter what. Remember that whenever the night gets to you." "Mmhmm." Houston was almost asleep again, almost worn out. That suited him just fine. His mate needed to sleep. To rest. So badly. Jacks nuzzled in, loving on Houston a little, humming to help put the man out. Long fingers twined with his, his mate relaxing fully. Trusting him, his strength. He would guard Houston's dreams. Keep his mate safe. That was his new fucking obsession. **** There was a strange truck. There was. It had passed by three days in a row and stopped, a different person inside each time, staring. Houston watched and watched, then went to Jackson, vibrating, whimpering with his fury, his sorrow. "I have to go. They've found me. I'll head south." He didn't want to go. He wasn't ready. 239


"No." Jacks didn't even hesitate, didn't even blink in surprise. "No, if there's someone out there, we'll face them together. Kill them." Houston stopped, stared at Jacks as if his mate had lost all sense. "What?" "We can't run forever. If they're as determined as you say, they won't stop coming." Those gray ringed eyes met his, serious as a heart attack and twice as strong. "They won't." He searched Jackson's eyes, that look settling him. "They'll try to take us both." "We're not going to let them." Jacks grinned a little, lips pulling back over his teeth in a wolf smile. "I'm not afraid of dying with you, baby." "No. No, I'm not afraid of that." He was afraid that they would take Jackson, hurt his mate. Dying was inevitable. "Well, there you go. We'll fight them to the death, baby. No more running." Those rough hands closed on his shoulders, firm and bracing. "You won't let them take me." Never caged again. Never. "I won't. And you won't let them take me. This is why we're mates. This is what you were missing in your little pack before." There wasn't a bit of jealousy in it, or anger. Just certainty. Jacks just seemed fucking sure that they were invincible as long as they were together. He nodded. "We were living a lie. I needed to be with my pack, my mate." "You just needed to go out and test yourself. Trial by fire." Jacks seemed completely determined to understand, even though he hadn't at the time. Not at all. Jacks had ranted and 240


snarled, told him he was a damned fool and that he would miss what they had. Jacks had been right. He snorted, rolled his eyes a little. "I didn't pass that test, did I?" "Are you shitting me?" Jacks took a long, hard kiss. "You survived. You survived when so many were broken." Yeah. Yeah, he had. He survived and he came home and found his mate. He caught Jacks' eyes, nodded. "So." Grinning, Jacks rubbed noses with him, making his eyes cross. "We fight. Yeah?" "Yeah. Yeah. This is our land." He wasn't sure. He really wasn't; they had people, weapons. Still. He had Jacks. So yeah, they'd fight. "We can work on some safeguards." Pulling him into the little office behind the kitchen, Jacks opened a drawer, pulling out a topo map. Damn. The man had scribbled all sorts of shit. Locations of underground springs, other wolves, and bolt holes. Leaning against Jacks' side, Houston began to believe. **** Jacks stretched, scratching a little, pondering letting the wolf take him so he could really get a good scratching in behind his ear. He yawned, then went back to being on watch. The truck that Houston had seen hadn't shown up again, but that didn't mean it wouldn't. This time he planned on seeing it. 241


Houston was curled up, sleeping hard, fingers over his nose. Something had settled with his mate, eased, and Houston had crashed, sleeping like a puppy for two days. It was the cutest fucking thing he'd ever seen. Jacks had been smiling over it for about a day and a half. Once he realized that Houston wasn't sick. His mate was dreaming, legs running, Houston chuffing and grinning, chasing something. Oh, look at that. Maybe it was a fat rabbit or a prairie dog. The urge to go and tickle those lean ribs was strong. God, it was good to see—Houston sleeping and having good dreams, laughing and moaning. Calling for him. For him. He wandered over, scratching his own ribs, his grin splitting his face again. Then he backed off a step and pounced, jumping right all up in the bed and Houston's sprawl. Houston yipped and twisted, rolling from under him and moving to attack, fingers digging into his ribs to tickle. Struggling and laughing, Jacks bent and took a bite, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel. "You were dream chasing, baby." "Deer." Houston chuckled, stretched for him a little. "A big buck." "Yeah? Did you get close?" He swore he'd woke up once with little white tail hairs in his mouth he'd been so close to catching his dream deer. "We did." Houston nuzzled his shoulder, his jaw, relaxed and playful like he remembered the pup being back at the beginning—all teeth and tail. 242


"Mmmm. You and the mouse in your pocket?" Houston didn't have pockets right now and he knew it. Had to be him. "Me and my mate. You might've met him once." That tongue slid south, teeth threatening. "You think?" Oh, that felt hellacious good. His whole body shivered with it, his moan slipping right out. "Maybe." His nipple was circled, Houston's tongue sliding around and around. "Uhn. Love that. So much." Body arching, he rocked and groaned, asking for more. Houston's lips fastened over his nipple, sucking hard enough that his toes curled. "Yeah. Yeah." Babbling probably wasn't a good look for him, but he couldn't care just then. All he could do as revel in the heat, the touching. Houston's hair had grown long enough for him to tangle his fingers in, to hold onto. Soft. Fuck, he didn't remember it being that soft. His thumb and forefinger rubbed a bit back and forth, his fingertips tingling. Jacks hummed, jonesing on the sweet feeling. His mate headed south, lips soft and hot as hell on his stomach, tugging the little hairs and making them sting. "Houston, baby. Making me so hot." Shivery hot. There was a lot to be said for Houston's mouth. "Need you." That laugh just suited his ass to the ground, Houston settled in his own skin. "Well, good. It would kinda suck otherwise." Oh. Sucking. He could so go there. Maybe a nice sixty-nine. 243


"I kinda suck anyway." Houston got a hold of his cock, sucking hard. "Not ... uhn. Not. Shit, baby." Incoherent much? He would just have to give a little back. He tilted, pulling at Houston to get him to move those skinny hips around. Hard and wet-tipped, Houston was ready for him, ready for his mouth. Jesus fuck. The howl he got when he wrapped his lips around that full prick just vibrated all around him. Shaking, Jacks got his hands up around Houston's hips, encouraging his mate to push as he sucked. They found a rhythm, sharp and hard, both of them fucking the other, pushing and pulling and sucking and needing. It went on forever, but it only lasted minutes. Damn. Fuck. He could feel it coming. Houston's nose was in his pubes, throat squeezing around the tip of his cock. Jacks shot so hard that he shouted, right there around Houston's cock, his whole body shaking. Then he did a little swallowing of his own. His mate humped him, pushing in deep over and over, cock jerking as Houston came for him, howling into the air. The taste was amazing, all salt and earth, and Jacks sucked it down. He closed his eyes for a second, thanking the universe for giving him this. Houston rumbled and grunted, the sounds all about pleasure and peace and happy. Moving around to face Houston, he took a kiss, letting it be lazy and yet toothy. "Fucking love you." 244


"Mate." Houston grinned, right there with him, happy as the day was long. His. His mate. That was all he cared about right now. The rest would wait until he had to think about it. Later. **** The truck was there again, waiting, watching. Every hair on his body stood up and Houston growled, fingers tightening on the windowsill. "Mate." He didn't think they could hear him, but he wasn't sure and he wasn't going to risk it. Come on, Jacks. Here me. Damned if Jacks didn't hear him, appearing from behind the shed outside, fading back toward the house like smoke. From the road, the truck might not see him. He stared, eyes locked on the people in the cab. Two of them. One woman. One older man in the passenger side. Didn't look like soldiers, but they weren't talking, weren't doing anything but staring at them. The back door opened, Jackson padding in on bare feet. "Where's the .22, baby?" "In the hall closet. Are we going out there?" He wouldn't look away, wouldn't back down. "I am. You keep them in sight. I'm going around from the back; I'll try to get a jump on them. We'll find out why they're here." Jacks just did everything full tilt. No fear. "I'll come out through the front, keep their attention." "You be careful." He was proud that Jacks wasn't telling him no. That his mate trusted him. 245


"You, too." Their fingers brushed, Jacks squeezing his pinky just a bit before the backdoor opened and his mate slipped out. He waited two minutes and headed outside, not trying to be quiet or subtle. The truck idled, both of the watchers just ... watching. Not making a move. His senses seemed super-attuned, because he thought he could hear Jacks moving out back. Houston headed for the gate, moving past the cactus, toward the road. Their road. Their fence. Jacks thought so, too, because the man moved like lightning. One moment he wasn't there, the next he was shoving the rifle barrel through the open driver's side window, his, "Hold it right there, asshole"," ringing out loud and clear. Jumping the fence, he made his way to the truck, growling, the wolf right at the fore. Kill them. He could kill them both and leave their bodies for the vultures. One sharp growl from Jacks stopped him in his tracks, quivering, waiting for the order to attack. But he would wait. Jacks was the alpha. "Who in Hell are you and what do you want?" Jacks snarled. "We want him." The female pointed at him, face somehow familiar. A hair raising sound came from somewhere in Jacks' chest. "Well, you can't have him, so you'd best move on." "He was the last one that saw our kin. He was with them. He's the only one who escaped. We have to know what he knows." Oh. 246


Oh, fuck. There had only been two left. Two. "Your kin." Sighing, Jacks shook his head. "You're not government." "No. No, we just ... we've been following people." A pair of dog tags were held up; he could smell the blood on them. "They were hunting you." "Well, shit." Jacks looked at him, one eyebrow going up. Asking the question. He understood. Deal with them now or later, he'd still have to deal with them. "Did you kill them all?" He stepped closer, sniffing the air. The big male nodded, teeth bared. "There were six. Outside of Yuma. Did you know Saraya? She is my wife." "No. No, I only knew..." He shook his head, suddenly confused. "What do you want?" "Come on. At least get your truck out of sight. I'm not sure I want to let you in our house, but we have the shed." Jacks jerked his head, motioning for him to come along, making the two in the truck give them some privacy. "We have to at least find out about the soldiers they've seen." "I don't trust 'em. I want them gone, Jackson. I don't want to talk to them, explain about the others." Explain how he left them. "I know, baby. But we have to know how close they are. How many they might have followed them." "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I just ... I didn't stay to..." The two came close and his lips snapped shut.

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"No. You got the fuck out and came home to me." Jacks' hands landed on his arms, holding so tight the bones creaked. "Mine. My mate. There was nothing you could do for them." "No. No." He leaned close, whispered. "There were two left—both bitches. One was crazed, the other crippled. I had to leave them." They would have caught him. "I know, baby. I know. You did what you had to. Come on, let's get our guests some water. We'll pick their brains, send them on their way." Jacks kissed him, once. Hard, and right on the mouth. It was enough to settle him, bone-deep. Enough that he was half-way to the little drink fridge Jacks kept in the workshop before he shook it off. The truck pulled around back of the shop, and the two got out. Jacks stepped in, keeping between them and Houston. The female was smaller than he expected, the male obviously wounded, still limping a bit. "We're not interested in hurting you. We just want our families back." There wasn't anything left to save. Jacks saved him the telling on that one. "They're killing everyone they have. They beat them down and kill them. Your families are most likely gone. I'm sorry." He could see Jacks muscle up, get ready for an explosion. "Most likely?" The woman's eyes burned into him. "How many where there? How many did they take?" "I don't know. There were only two left, when I ran. I was in a room." In a single room. He didn't know. 248


"Look, how did you find us?" Jacks asked, stepping in front of him again, shielding him. "You know what you could bring down on us?' "We followed the soldiers. Then, once we killed them, we followed our noses." The old man snarled. "You just left them?" Jacks growled, leaning right down into the old man's face. "One couldn't run. The other was crazy. They were going to take his balls." The last came out as a roar. "MY MATE." "My mate was there! Could be there!" The old man howled, the sound desperate. "You left them! You didn't even get them a quick death!" Houston snapped at the air, the beast demanding out, even in full sunshine. He'd made his decision. He did what he could. One arm slid across his chest, Jacks holding him back. "I'm sorry about your mate. I am. But he would have died if he'd set of an alarm trying to get to them, and I won't be sorry for that." Quiet, determined. Just pure Jacks, those words. He panted, eyes rolling, the entire world a wash of red, except for his mate. His Jacks. "He's changing. How can ... What did they do to him?" The woman sounded horrified, sick. Shamed. "What do you think? Now you see. Can you blame him for anything he would do to get out of there?" Turning, Jacks grabbed him, holding him, humming a little. Soothing him until the wolf stopped trying.

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"I could not help them. I would have. I swear to you. I could not." He met the old man's eyes, refusing to hide from his shame. The old man scrubbed one hand over his face, tears swimming in those rheumy old eyes. "I believe you, son. I do." "I'm sorry." He was. For all of them. "You can still help us," the woman said, eyes hard again. "Help us find them. Dead or alive, they deserve that." "Go back?" Everything inside him stopped and not even Jacks could stop the wolf from breaking free, making him scream with the sudden change. No. No going back. No more cages. No more tests. No more. His eyes rolled and he crouched, waiting for the others to move so that he could run. **** Jacks stopped, scenting the air. Houston was close. He knew it. He could feel it. Now if he could just get his mate to stop running. Soon Houston would need water, would need food to refuel. When that happened, the wolf might leave him, the panic going down in the face of practicality. But until then, he knew Houston would be like a coyote that had almost been hit by lightning. 250


He'd sent the others away, but he'd been patient enough to take their information. To promise he'd call. Barely. There. That had to be Houston he'd caught on the wind. Jacks changed direction, heading for a scree of rock that marched along an arroyo. Houston was fading, the run faded into a limping lope that eased into a walk every few seconds. He could scent shame and exhaustion on the air, along with the remnants of mindless terror. God, he could kill those two who had come. He would have done the same for Houston, but that didn't change his rage one bit. Not one bit. Those tired eyes saw him and he could see it—see Houston deciding whether to run or stop, to let him come. Jacks met them calmly, banking the fire inside, knowing Houston needed him to be calm. Controlled. Slow and sure, he went on, moving in close, making no sudden moves. Houston called out for him—little chirping barks that let him know that his mate was done running, knew him. Needed him. Jacks rushed the last few yards separating them, pushing right up against Houston, mingling their scents. Oh. Better. Mate. Houston leaned against him, full-weight, sounds just pouring out, offered to him. Rubbing, pushing, Jacks gave Houston everything, all of his comfort and love and gratitude. His mate. 251


Houston relaxed, tongue on his nose, his chin. Love. His. His. There. Now he could take Houston home. Show him that no one else was there. No one but them. Houston followed, barely holding onto the wolf by the time they reached the yard. Jacks pulled Houston with him, murmuring. "Come on, baby. Come on. A few more steps and there's water, meat." Houston sniffed, looked, searching for the others, only entering and relaxing when he knew they were gone. It was his lover, human and naked and scratched that landed on the sofa with a plop. "There you go, baby. Welcome back." Jacks tried for a grin and fell a little short, but Houston gave him a weak smile, so it was worth it. "I'm sorry, Jacks. I couldn't stop it." "I know. I should have sent them away." He understood the others, though. He would do anything to find Houston if he knew his mate was taken. "No. No, they were." Houston sighed, hands in his hair. "They have a right to come hunting me." Jacks crouched down by the couch, hands sliding on that scarred skin. "No. Not a right. But I would do it, too." "I'm not a coward, Jacks. I just ... What else could I have done?" He'd bet Houston'd asked that question thousands of times. "Not a goddamned thing." He gave Houston a biting kiss, making sure he felt the sting. "You came home." 252


"I did. I came for you. I had to see you. To tell you I should have stayed." Crawling up on the couch, he just wrapped around Houston, holding on. "You did what you had to. Love you." "Yeah. Yeah. Yours." Houston eased for him, let him hold on and heal them both. "Good. That's the important thing, baby." His lips moved on Houston's skin, not with intent, really. Just wandering. "Do we have to go back there?" "No. No, we don't. Nothing would get me to make you go back." He'd thought about it. He had. But no. Houston was the important thing to him. Houston went boneless, clinging to him. "I know I'm a coward. I know. It's too big, Jacks." "No. You're not a coward or you wouldn't be here." God, all the work he'd done, just gone in an hour. "We'll leave. We'll find someplace far away..." "No." Houston bared his teeth, eyes flashing. "No. They took and took. This place is yours. They can't have what is yours, mate." He lifted a hand, cupping Houston's cheek. God, he loved that fierceness. "You're what's mine, baby. I've just been biding my time." Houston pushed into his touch, growling deep and low. "They can't have what is yours." That was a deep, sweet satisfaction in that voice. "No. The rest is all details. You know I just need space to run. I can get that anywhere. Mexico. Canada. Well, maybe not Canada." 253


"No. It's cold there. We're not built for that." "Nope." Joy filled him, just the knowledge that Houston would go with him making him want to tip up his nose and howl. Once upon a time, the idea of going farther into the wilderness had left Houston in a panic. "We'll figure it." "We will." Houston nudged his jaw. "Mate." That was all he needed to hear. They'd leave both the damned government and the worn out pack behind and start over, just the two of them. Which was just the way it should have been all along.

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Contributors Jourdan Lane Jourdan Lane currently lives in south Texas with a husband and three very energetic children. When not playing the part of referee, maid, household bookkeeper, chef, etc ... she writes. She does, however, have a fickle Muse that just can't decide who he likes to play with more. From vampires, demons, and angels to cowboys and country boys, writing time is never dull. Her interests are vast and too numerous to list, but there is one constant: she likes smut, any way you can serve it up, and has an absolute love of porn. B.A. Tortuga B. A. Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life, with hobbies that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub dips, and ogling hot guys at the beach. A connoisseur of the perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites in the name of research. Mixing the natural born southern propensity for sarcasm and the environmental western straight-shooting sensibility, BA manages to produce mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure, unadulterated smut. With characters ranging from supernatural demons to modern-day cowboys, alternative illustrated men to Victorian dandies, the addiction to history and atmosphere is everpresent, and laced through with sensual pleasure. Emily Veinglory 255


Hi! I am an animal psychologist by trade and a freelancer writer/illustrator by inclination. My proudest achievements as a writer so far has been Torquere Press's acceptance of my fantasy book 'Broken Sword.' This book reflects many of my ongoing obsessions including fantasy, homoerotica and vampires. I have previously written two novellas centred on a romance between King Arthur and Merlin (published by a small press called Angelwings Press). My short homoerotic fiction appears in the 'zine Dark Fantasies #7, the e-zines Bloodlust-UK and Forbidden Fruit (Issue #5), and Torquere Press's upcoming anthology 'Chance Encounters'. I am currently working on a non-fiction book proposal that would allow me to return to New Zealand and to write full time. I am also developing two homoerotic werewolf novellas and book concepts based on the mythological figures of Chiron and Robin Hood. For more information please visit my homepage at www.veinglory.com

If you are connected to the Internet, take a moment to rate this eBook by going back to your bookshelf at www.fictionwise.com.

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