by M. A. Church
Frankly, right now he had bigger fish to fry, like how he got here, where here was, how to get the hell out of here, where the fuck his cell was, and what had happened to his parents. Fuck—his parents.
He couldn’t think about his mom and dad right now. They were dead, no question of that. Being shot in the head pretty much guaranteed it. He’d fall apart later when he wasn’t being held captive by a man who claimed he shifted into a wolf.
“All right then, since you seem to be taking this so well, I’ll add that I’m the co-Alpha of the Day Canyon pack. Dayville, our village, is located on Mount Charleston, which is in the Spring Mountains. We’re not far from Las Vegas.”
Fuck. A mountain. Mountains had forests. Canyons. He was in the middle of nowhere, but at least he knew where ‘here’ was now, if this dude was telling the truth. But Hunter still hadn’t answered why he was there, why he was taken, or what this transformation bullshit was.
The never-ending questions only made his head hurt worse, and he was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. Then he froze. There was one thing he could check, now wasn’t there?
He ran his hand over where he remembered Hunter biting him. The skin where his neck and shoulder met was torn, ragged, and sore. Oh. Fuck. Well, he’d wanted some sort of proof, hadn’t he?
“You bit me.” Even though he could damn well feel the evidence under his fingers, he still had trouble wrapping his head around it.
Because if he let himself acknowledge what he felt, then he’d also have to accept that Hunter had somehow shifted—he cringed at the word choice—his normal looking teeth into something insanely sharp and bit him. Meanwhile, those werewolf movies he refused to think about? They helpfully supplied an answer he didn’t want to accept.
“I need to see,” he whispered.
“I’m not really sure if that’s a good idea. The only mirror is in the bathroom, but you’re really weak right now and—”
“Either you help me, or I try on my own.” When Hunter didn’t move, Mark took a deep breath and started scooting toward the edge of the bed, dragging the sheet with him. If he had to, he’d rip the sucker off and wrap it around him. The idea of being naked in front of Hunter unsettled him.
“Fine! Are you always this hardheaded? Leave the sheet alone. There’s another blanket at the foot of the bed. You can use that to preserve your modesty.”
Mark scowled. The trip to the bathroom took an ungodly amount of time and was possibly one of the most uncomfortable situations he’d ever endured, but they finally made it. Thanks to the light streaming in from a window, Mark could see his reflection clearly.
His hair was sweaty and sticking to his head, there were shadows under his bloodshot eyes deep enough to hide in, and his features were haggard and pinched.
And there was the bite mark, clear as day.
Chapter Four – Hunter
THE TRIP back to the bed was torturously slow, especially since Hunter ended up practically carrying Mark. While he enjoyed having Mark so close, Mark’s reaction bothered him—or his lack of reaction, he should say. He wasn’t sure if Mark was that weak or in shock.
One thing was for sure, if Hunter had thought Mark was pale before, it was nothing compared to now. He was as white as a sheet and shivering. He’d gone from sweating buckets to feeling half frozen.
Hunter sniffed discreetly. There wasn’t the scent of blood, so that was good. Mark hadn’t disturbed his wound. It was healing, but there was still a ways to go.
“You bit me.”
Hunter eased Mark into the bed and tucked the sheet around him. He sighed softly. The vacant look in Mark’s eyes troubled him also. “Yes.”
“Why?”
He wasn’t sure if now was the time to get into that since Mark looked as if he was about to pass out again. “Remember me mentioning the transformation you’re going through? That’s how we change a human into what we are.”
Mark squinted at Hunter. Restlessly he rubbed his forehead. “A shifter.”
“Well, no. We’re not called shifters. What I said was I can change into a wolf. There’s a difference between a shape-shifter and a werewolf, but that can wait until later.” Hunter took note of Mark’s squinting and closed the blackout curtains. It appeared they were getting to the migraine part of the program. “Are you cold? You’re shaking.”
“Yes.”
Hunter tucked the blanket around Mark again. Still he shook, so Hunter retrieved the one off the back of the couch in the den and added that on top of Mark.
“Why?”
“Why what? Why did I bite you? Because if I hadn’t, you would’ve died. This was the only way to save you.” Now was not the time to mention Mark was his mate. They needed to handle this crisis before jumping into the next one.
“I see.” Mark closed his eyes. “This why I feel so sick?”
“Yes.” Hunter wondered how long he had before Mark fell asleep again. “The transformation always makes the human really ill. You see, werewolves carry a virus. It’s toxic to humans. Following a bite, the bacteria strain begins duplicating itself in the human bloodstream. It basically takes over. The process takes roughly three days to fully integrate with the human cells. Unfortunately, during that time, a human—”
Mark’s soft snores interrupted Hunter.
“Well,” Hunter sighed. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.” That trip to the bathroom had used what energy Mark had, plus he still hadn’t eaten anything.
Gently he pressed his fingers against Mark’s wrist, checking his pulse. It was fast, which was what he expected since Mark was changing. A slow, thready pulse was a sign that things weren’t going well.
This was good. Very good. Slightly more relaxed, Hunter leaned back in the chair he’d dragged next to the bed and stared at the ceiling. Health wise, Mark was coming along fine.
Mark’s mental state was another matter. Hunter had expected a major freak-out: yelling, denials… all sorts of things. Mark wasn’t the first human who’d been changed in their pack. Humans always reacted strongly. Which was understandable—the world as they knew it just got upended.
But the very lack of reaction from Mark worried Hunter. Surviving the virus was just the first step. Mark also had to accept his wolf. If he didn’t, the two would tear each other apart when Mark’s first shift occurred. He’d seen it happen, and damn if he was going to let that be the thing that killed his mate.
AROUND LUNCH there was a knock at his door. After a quick check on Mark, Hunter answered it.
Brax stood on the other side holding a large to-go bag. “I got food! Alpha Zane was worried you’d starve. So, on the menu today is the usual humongous rare steak for those who like their meat still kicking, a lovely loaded potato, and a nice side salad with salad dressing in cups. There’s chicken noodle soup for Mark, just in case.”
“Thanks. I appreciate this. Come on in.” While he could cook, what was the point when he was cooking for one? Hunter stood to the side so Brax could pass.
“In the kitchen?”
“That works.” Hunter shut the door. After another quick peek at Mark, he met Brax in the kitchen. “Put it on the bar.”
Brax unloaded the goodies then leaned against the counter. “So, before I picked up your lunch—Sissy says hi, by the way—I did some checking on your mate. You want to eat while I talk?”
“Sure. Mark’s still asleep. Did you tell Sissy to put this on my tab?”
“Zane called it in. I’m just the errand boy.”
“Right.” Brax was nearly as big as him and one of the strongest Betas Hunter had. There was nothing boyish about him. “Want something to drink?”
“A Coke would be good. Thanks.”
Hunter fixed their drinks and handed Brax’s to him. “You’ve eaten already?”
“I have, so you go ahead.”
“Cool.” Grabbing his drink and some silverware, he sat down, opened the bag, and took the heavy to-go plate out. Sissy was a mated werewolf and ow
ned Sissy’s Log Cabin Restaurant. Every business in the village was owned by either a bitten or born werewolf.
“I haven’t had a lot of time to go deep on your mate, but what I’ve found so far is all good. He’s the son of Judy and Gerald James, now deceased.” Brax joined Hunter at the table.
“Speaking of, what’s going on with that?”
“The humans are investigating, but you know as well as I do they’ll never find who shot them. I don’t know if they’ve identified the parents yet, but it shouldn’t be much longer.”
“They haven’t?”
“No, those assholes took their wallets. I guess it was a miracle they dropped Mark’s, or we’d be in the same position. Mark has one brother, named Michael James. He’s a year younger. They lived in a suburb on the outskirts of New York City and appeared to be solid middle-class.”
“Any priors?” Hunter dumped the dressing on his salad and dug in.
“Nothing so far. There’s a couple of speeding tickets spread out through the family, but that’s it. I haven’t really had a chance to dig into the financials, but what I’ve seen says they lived within their means.”
Hunter bit into one of the rolls that came with his meal. Sissy really did have the best rolls in town. “Good.”
“On the surface they look like your average American family, and I really think they are. The brother went to college and has a degree.” Brax took a long drink of his soda. “He’s a web developer/designer. I can’t find that Mark attended any type of schooling after high school.”
Hunter paused in demolishing his salad. “Wait. One brother went to college and the other one didn’t?” He might not know Mark, but he was ready to be offended on his behalf.
“Looks like that was Mark’s choice, not any favoritism by the parents. Mark moved from job to job starting about age sixteen. He spent some time on a construction crew, worked on a farm, volunteered at a shelter, tried retail, learned how to lay tile and flooring—a regular jack of all trades.”
“Huh.” Hunter set his salad to the side. Rabbit food was okay, but that steak was calling his name. “Sounds like he’s restless.” Hunter caught himself tapping his knife against his plate. He stilled the movement. Such a fidgety act wasn’t like him, but his wolf paced in his head. He really didn’t like having Brax in the house, which was ridiculous. Brax frequently hung out there. They were best friends.
“Could be. I checked his social media platforms. He’s pretty open-minded and easygoing. I think he’ll make a good pack member.”
“I think so too, if he survives.” The thought alone was almost enough to put him off his meal. Almost.
“Don’t go looking for trouble,” Brax scolded, sipping his soda. “This is the second day, right?”
“Yes.”
“Has there been any sign he might reject the change?”
“Only that night I bit him. His pulse was thready and slow. He was delirious too, but that was partly from the blood loss, and then later, the fever. His pulse has been more normal, and the gunshot wound is healing at a rate that’s not consistent for a human.”
“There you go, and when you add in you started the mating process, that should help too. I mean, you’re an Alpha, and a damn strong one. You and Zane both are. I know you’re worried, but I have a good feeling about this. And—”
Mark moaned from the bedroom.
“And that’s my cue to leave.” Brax stood. “If you need anything, give a yell. I’ll let myself out. You tend to him.”
“Thanks.” Hunter’s sensitive hearing picked up Mark’s agitated movements. He heard the front door close as he slipped into his bedroom. Not wanting to scare Mark by hovering over him like some kind of boogeyman, he cleared his throat before speaking. “Mark? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?”
“Fuck,” Mark whined. “No, no, I don’t think so. I just hurt. Everywhere.”
Hunter sat in his usual chair next to the bed. “That’s part of it, I’m sorry to say. This is going to sound really freaky, but your bones are becoming denser. You’re also adding muscle. It won’t be startlingly noticeable when you see yourself, but you’ll be more toned now. More defined. By the time this is done, there won’t be an ounce of fat on you, and you’ll be much stronger.”
“Right.”
That earlier vagueness he’d seen in Mark’s eyes was gone, but now Hunter saw denial, which actually reassured him somewhat. The truth couldn’t be ignored, and Mark would face it. He’d accept it too. Hunter would make sure he did. “It takes three days for the transformation to occur, but the first two days are the worst. You’re at day two.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It gets better as it goes. Look, it’s been a while since you last ate. Think you could go for some chicken noodle soup? It’s homemade.”
Chapter Five – Mark
“I’LL TRY. Could I have something to drink first?” Mark managed to pull himself up in the bed. The wound on his stomach didn’t appreciate it, but the staggering pain he expected didn’t occur. He didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“Sure. Be right back.”
Mark scrubbed at his face. Man, he was feeling grimy. What he wouldn’t give for a shower. The sound of a door opening, and then closing, caught his attention. Dropping his hands, he listened to ice clinking into a glass. Then came the glub, glub of something liquidy pouring.
Holy fucking shit, was he actually hearing Hunter making his drink? Was that even possible? Footsteps. A board creaked. He recognized the sound of someone walking across a hardwood floor. Mark cocked his head. Was that Hunter returning?
“Hey, here’s your—what’s wrong?” Hunter hurried inside, placing the glass of water on the end table. “Do you feel like you’re—”
“I heard you making that.” Mark pointed at the glass. His head whirled with the implications. “How far away is the kitchen?”
“Other end of the house.”
Mark’s vision went wonky. Spots danced before his eyes. The kitchen is at the other end of the house. The other fucking end of the fucking house. He shouldn’t have been able to hear any of that.
“Hey, okay, easy now. Shit, I didn’t think it was possible for you to turn any paler, but here you are, proving me wrong. Oh dammit, Mark, please don’t pass—”
Darkness greeted Mark.
MARK CAME awake with a snap. He didn’t open his eyes immediately, though. Instead, he listened closely to his environment—the hum of the air conditioning unit, the click when the icemaker filled with water, the background sounds of a TV playing softly. Things he shouldn’t be able to hear so perfectly.
He opened his eyes. Everything was so clear, so crisp, and he could see all too well in a fucking dark room. He glanced at the clock by the bed. It was late in the afternoon, so he’d been out several hours, at least.
He heard a beep, like a microwave made when it finished warming food. Raising his chin, he sniffed discreetly. Holy cow, that was chicken noodle soup, and it smelled like it was homemade too, not that crap out of a can.
Hunter tapped on the partially closed door, then bumped it open with his foot. In his hands he held a tray. “Hey, I have something for you. Please eat, okay? That’ll make you feel stronger and help stop the fainting.”
Mark’s stomach yowled. Huh. Maybe he should eat. But could he keep it down, that was the question. The clinking of ice cubes in the glass reminded him how thirsty he was, and he sat up.
Hunter placed the tray over his lap, and Mark grabbed the glass of water. Suddenly he was so thirsty.
“Go slow. You don’t want that to make a reappearance.”
No, he really didn’t. If he never threw up again, it’d be too soon. His hand didn’t shake as he lifted the glass, so that had to be a good sign. He sipped the cold water, giving himself time to organize his muddled thoughts, and, well, to make sure it was going to stay down. Questions. Oh, he had them.
He replaced the water on the tray and picked up his spoon. Th
e first bite was heaven, and yup, it was homemade. Lord, someone was a damn fine cook. He plowed through the soup as Hunter sat in a chair, watching. Nope, that wasn’t awkward. At all.
“Good soup,” Mark muttered as he devoured it.
“I’m glad you like it. I knew you were awake and wanted to get this in you before you fainted again.”
Mark kept shoveling in the soup. Once his hunger wasn’t so bad, he spoke. “Number one? I didn’t faint. I passed out in shock.”
“Same difference.”
“Says you.” Mark spooned in several more bites. “And number two, there was no way you could’ve known I was awake. Hell, I didn’t even move when I first opened my eyes.”
Hunter let out a long breath. “Your heart rate changed, so yes, I did know you were awake. Werewolves have excellent hearing and sight, plus our sense of smell is ridiculously strong too. That one can be a bit of a pain in the ass, though. I’m sure you’ve noticed your vision is better. You’ve already mentioned you’re hearing things a human can’t. The sense of smell will be next, if it isn’t already improving.”
Mark dropped the spoon, and it clattered against the bowl.
“You’ve noticed things, huh?”
“That… that just isn’t possible.”
“I know this is hard to believe, but you have got to stop denying what is right in front of your face. Yes, it is possible,” Hunter said. “Werewolves exist. I exist. We live about three hundred years too. I’m a hundred and ten years old.”
“A hundred and ten, but you don’t look a day over thirty.”
“We age slower than humans. I bit you, and now you are going to be a werewolf. I can’t know how scary this must be since I’m a born werewolf, but you’re still the same person, Mark. You’re just a bit more than you were before, that’s all.”
He couldn’t do this. Not right now. “Can I have a shower? I really need one. I can smell myself.”
Hunter frowned, and Mark held his breath. Obviously, Hunter wasn’t ready to let the subject go—it was written all over his face he wasn’t done talking about it yet—but Mark hoped Hunter didn’t push this.
