Broken Bonds

by Sandrine Gasq-Dion

  ~*~

  The sun’s warmth penetrated the tent’s fabric and John cracked one eyelid open. Siberian cold surrounded him, even in the made-for-artic temperatures tent. He suddenly realized he didn’t feel sick. He stretched his back legs out and was relieved to feel no pain. Luckily, werewolves could regenerate fairly quickly.

  In all honesty, Anya couldn’t have come at a better time. Well, that wasn’t true; she could have come before the rogue took a piece out of him. John chuckled and shifted into his human form and threw on his sweat pants. He unzipped the tent and stepped out into sunshine — and a spectacular view.

  His mouth fell open as Anya stood in the river. Naked. Her long copper hair rested just above her firm ass, and her voluptuous hips met with extremely long legs. John coughed and immediately turned around, facing the tent.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right. I appreciate you turning around.”

  John’s cock thickened at the sound of that sultry voice. It slipped down his spine and curled around his testicles. God, he was getting a boner. He listened as Anya splashed water, envisioning it sliding alongside firm, pale breasts. He closed his eyes and saw her, hair flowing in the wind, her naked form pressed to his.

  A snort sounded behind him and he turned to find Anya watching him warily in wolf form. John clasped his hands together and placed them in front of his growing hard-on.

  “Good morning.”

  Anya snorted, and then looked off into the distance. She gave him one more look, and then trotted off. John let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He hoped she hadn’t sensed his arousal. She hated men; he just wished he knew why. They had time together, if Anya planned to stick around. John hoped she did, because now he was very curious. He bundled his jacket closer as the wind kicked up. Walking to the river, he bent and splashed water on his face. The icy water snapped him awake in seconds. Anya must be used to the cold because she had bathed in freezing water as if it were a hot tub.

  Anya came back a half-hour later, a small deer clenched between her jaws. John waited for her to release it, and then sat down on one of the rocks.

  “May I?” he asked.

  Anya stepped back from the deer and sat down. This man was acting as if she had a say, as if he actually cared about her opinion. He had thanked her for rescuing him and he had turned his eyes away from her naked form. Once again, John Quinton had puzzled her. She’d spent the night trying to figure out what his angle was.

  “What would you like? A leg?” John flipped his claws out and picked up the deer. “Maybe the flank?”

  “I’ll eat it; I don’t care what part you give me.”

  “Oh, but there has to be a favorite part, doesn’t there?” John grinned as he began skinning the deer. “Ladies first.”

  “I’m no lady,” Anya snapped.

  “Oh, but you are, Anya. So, tell me what you’d like.” John stoked the fire and began setting pieces of meat across the grill he’d brought with him.

  “You’re going to cook it?”

  “Well, yes. I don’t eat raw deer unless I’m in wolf form.” John looked Anya over. “Do you have any clothes?”

  “No. At least not around here.”

  “I have some sweats and a T-shirt in my bag. My down jacket is in there as well if you’d like to join me for coffee and breakfast.”

  “You…want my company? Why?”

  John shrugged. “Why not?”

  “You are very strange, John Quinton.”

  “So I hear. Does that mean you’ll join me?”

  Anya padded over to the tent and went inside. John stood and zipped it closed for privacy. Once again, the man surprised her. She shifted and quickly pulled the cotton clothing on, her eyes drifting to the tent opening now and then. Men were all the same, they liked to look, they liked to touch, and they liked to take things that didn’t belong to them. Anya shook her head clear and draped the jacket over her shoulders. She looked down at her bare feet.

  “I’ve got slippers in the side pocket of my bag.” John called over his shoulder.

  Anya found them and slipped them on. She unzipped the tent and took a spot across from John Quinton. The man seemed to be staring at her and she scowled.

  “What?”

  John couldn’t believe the beauty before him. Anya’s long hair drifted across her shoulders and pooled in her lap. Her green eyes flashed with a slight hint of anger. Her pale skin looked smooth and flawless and her rose-colored lips were pursed.

  “I’m sorry; I just can’t get over your beauty.”

  Anya lifted a brow.

  “I’m being honest. I’m sorry if that offends you,” John chuckled.

  Anya narrowed her eyes. “All men say beautiful, all men say what they have to say to get what they want, and in the end, they hurt you and leave you alone.”

  “Not all men, Anya. Some of us are actually decent people, raised by our mothers to respect women. My mother scared the crap out of me when I was younger.” John laughed thinking about his mother chasing him with a flip-flop down the hall of their home.

  “You respected a woman?”

  “Of course I did. I respected my wife as well. We were equals in every way. There was no ‘woman’s work’ in our house; we split everything between us. She offered me advice and I took it readily, even gratefully.”

  “No woman’s work?” Anya tilted her head. “But, don’t the women stay home? What do they do all day if they don’t work in the house?”

  John’s mouth dropped open. “What year were you born?”

  “Eighteen hundred sixty-eight.”

  John’s eyes widened. “Well, you certainly aged well.”

  “What does that mean?” Anya stared at John.

  “It means you don’t look a day over twenty.”

  “How old are you?” Anya asked curiously.

  “You know, I don’t know.” John laughed. “I stopped counting a long time ago. The last time I remember counting a birthday, I was thirty-five.”

  John lifted the piece of meat off the grill and the sting of heat burned his fingers. He jerked his hand back. “Ouch!”

  Anya shifted in seconds, her snarl resounding around the forest. John jerked back so fast he fell off the rock he was sitting on and sprawled on the ground. Anya was on top of him in seconds, snarling in his face. John put his hands up.

  “I just burned myself, that’s all. I would never do anything to hurt you, Anya.”

  Anya eased back; she eyed John on the ground and then ran.

  John sat up and rubbed the back of his head, the burn on his fingers already dissipating. He felt terrible; Anya must have thought he was about to strike her.

  He sighed and looked up at the sky. He had a lot of ground to cover with Anya. He wanted to know more about her. A lot more.

  ~Chapter Three~

  Friday night arrived faster than Jonas expected. Now he was running around the kitchen putting together manicotti. The damn pasta had stuck together and he’d frantically unstuck them with a bit of olive oil. What a time for his signature dish to work against him.

  His eyes darted to the clock now and then as he finished filling the shells and put them in the oven. Dashing to his room, he grabbed his favorite blue jeans and a T-shirt and almost tripped on his way to the shower.

  He’d reamed Jude for setting him up Wednesday, but in reality, he’d been a bit grateful. Spending time with Jackson had transported him right back to that hospital room, the room where Jackson had kissed him. He brushed his teeth and shaved quickly while in the shower. After drying off, he splashed some aftershave on, and then eyed his collection of cologne.

  Should he dab some on? Or would that scream desperation?

  He shrugged and decided not to put any on. He yanked his jeans on and smoothed the soft cotton T-shirt over his chest. His black hair was tousled and still a little wet. He ran his fingers through it and left the bathroom.

  The whol
e house began to smell of oregano and other spices as Jonas went about tidying the living room. He put a wine bottle out to breathe, and then looked at the clock again. His hands started to sweat and his stomach rolled as he heard a car in the driveway. Jonas took a deep breath and held it. Footsteps echoed on the walk and then the doorbell rang. Jonas blew out his breath slowly and opened the door.

  Jackson was dressed in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. He held an accordion file in his left hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Jonas’ eyes drifted over the accordion file. Jackson had actually brought the maps?

  “Hello.” Jackson grinned at the confused look on Jonas’ face. “Did I get the wrong day?”

  “What? Oh! No, no, no, I was just, um, surprised.”

  “That I came?” Jackson peeked behind Jonas. “That smells good.”

  “Please come in.” Jonas stepped back and let Jackson pass. He sauntered by him and Jonas inhaled a wild, musky scent. His dick throbbed and his mouth watered.

  Jackson stopped in the living room and put the file down on an end table. He motioned to the coffee table. “Mind if we eat here?”

  “No, that’s fine. I usually end up there anyway, watching TV while I eat.”

  “Well, we won’t be watching TV.” Jackson glanced over his shoulder with a grin.

  “We...we won’t?” Jonas licked his suddenly dry lips.

  “Well, no. We have maps to go over, remember?” Jackson turned and walked to the kitchen. He almost chuckled when he heard Jonas mumbling under his breath behind him. “What was that?”

  Jonas nearly ran into Jackson’s back when he stopped abruptly. As it was, his hands went straight to Jackson’s ass to stop himself. He pulled away quickly and stepped back a few feet. He realized he was still staring at Jackson’s ass.

  “Sorry.”

  Jackson turned around and studied Jonas’ face. “Why don’t you get dinner and I’ll pour the wine?”

  “Sounds good,” Jonas nodded in relief.

  Jackson hadn’t said anything about the ass grab.

  “We can spread out on the floor and table.” Jackson arched a brow at him and Jonas cursed himself at how that sounded. “The maps, we can spread out the maps.”

  “Of course.” Jackson looked around the tidy kitchen. “Wine glasses?”

  “Over there next to the fridge.”

  Jonas busied himself serving up two plates of manicotti. He grabbed silverware and napkins and met Jackson by the coffee table. He set the plate down in front of Jackson then took his own seat on the floor.

  “This looks delicious, Jonas.” Jackson cut a piece of the stuffed shell and slipped it into his mouth. The cheese flavors exploded on his tongue, along with garlic and oregano. “Oh God, so good.”

  “Really?” Jonas took a small bite of his own. “You like it?”

  “Like it? I love it! You certainly do know how to please a man.”

  Jonas’ face flamed and he ducked his head. “Thank you.”

  Jackson chuckled inwardly and watched Jonas as he ate. Damn but the man was gorgeous. He wanted to kiss him, touch him and rub his scent all over him. He’d backed off before when Jonas asked him to, but now things were different. Arousal seeped from Jonas in waves and Jackson almost had to sit on his hands to keep from touching him. He wanted Jonas to come to him. There was no other way.

  They finished dinner and made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen. They settled down with their wine and spread out the maps. Jonas looked from the intel reports to the maps over and over again. There seemed to be a pattern. Lucas Cain was up to something, that was for sure.

  “You see it too, don’t you?” Jackson smiled at Jonas’ furrowed brow.

  “A pattern.” Jonas rose up on his knees and leaned over the map. “He’s going in an east to north pattern. Something must be here in this line.”

  “Yes, but then how do you account for these trips?” Jackson smoothed the second map out.

  “A decoy? It seems as if he’s making these to throw everyone off.” Jonas peered closer. “Or, he wants us to look at these.”

  Jackson sat back and grinned at Jonas.

  “What? Am I wrong?”

  Jackson shook his head. “And that’s why you’re an alpha.” Jackson winked.

  “How did you get all these locations?” Jonas leaned over the map again.

  “Facial recognition software. We accessed cameras from bus stations, train stations and airports as well as any other means of travel we can think of. The computer searches identifying facial features and then we catch him on camera.”

  “Wouldn’t Lucas know about that software? I mean, he is FBI.”

  Jackson nodded. “He would, which is why normally he’s trying to cover his face. We’ve caught him more than a few times when he wasn’t looking. Cameras are everywhere.”

  “Big Brother is watching,” Jonas chuckled.

  “Big werewolves are watching.” Jackson leaned back against the couch. “How did you come into power?”

  “Born into it. You?”

  “Fought for it.” Jackson smiled at the shocked look on Jonas’ face. “Oh yes, the saying is true. You either fight for your pack, or you leave it. I called out the alpha on his leadership. He challenged me; I won. I raised Tristan, Seth and Jacob on my own. All of them were orphans. They followed in my footsteps.”

  “When did you see your first rogue?”

  Jackson stiffened. “When they tore apart my old pack. People confuse lone wolves and rogue wolves, but I don’t. I know the difference.”

  Jonas leaned forward and put his hand on top of Jackson’s. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jackson tried to smile. “It was a long time ago. I met a woman, mated and then lost her. She was killed by rogues. I’ve made it my life’s mission to hunt down every last rogue until they are extinct.”

  “And we’re getting there. We’ve already taken out so many.” Jonas moved closer to Jackson.

  “And they just keep coming back, don’t they?” Jackson sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

  Jonas ran his hand over Jackson’s forearm. The muscles twitched underneath; the skin felt hot.

  “You haven’t been with anyone since?” Jonas looked into Jackson’s eyes.

  “No.” He met Jonas’ gaze. “I didn’t want to be with anyone.”

  “And now?” Jonas couldn’t believe what he was doing. He was coming on to Jackson Murphy, the man he had repeatedly pushed away. But God — he really couldn’t help himself.

  The sexy curve of Jackson’s lips, his strong jaw, aristocratic nose and beautiful long, blond lashes had haunted many of his dreams. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone in years, and somehow this man had him shivering with need. His canines were itching to bite into Jackson’s soft flesh, claim him.

  “I think you know,” Jackson whispered.

  Jonas inched closer. “Do you still…think about me?”

  “Haven’t you seen the way I look at you?’ Jackson moved closer to Jonas. “Don’t my eyes give me away? I think about kissing you, nibbling along your collarbone and digging my hands into your ass.”

  Jonas gasped as Jackson’s skin touched his.

  “But you said the kiss meant nothing to you, so I’ve left you alone, Jonas. I abided by your wishes. If you want me, you have to come to me. I’m not making a move.”

  Jonas placed a hand on Jackson’s chest. The heartbeat beneath his palm raced. He leaned in but Jackson pulled away slightly. Jonas’ brows pinched in confusion.

  “No. Say the words, Jonas. Tell me what you want.”

  Jonas ran his hand towards Jackson’s groin. “I want you to kiss me like you’ve wanted to. Like I’ve wanted you to.”

  That was all Jackson needed to hear. He pulled Jonas into his lap, crushing their lips together. Jonas moaned and wrapped his arms around the bigger man’s neck. Jackson leaned back and picked Jonas up, settling him straddled across his hips.

  Jackson gasped as warm hands drifted under his shirt. Jonas s
lid into his mouth, loving the taste of wine and spices. He writhed against him, soft moans and gasps punctuating the silence as Jackson kissed Jonas the way he’d always wanted to.

  “I need skin,” Jonas panted against Jackson’s mouth. “Want to touch you.”

  “Oh, fuck yeah.” Jackson put his arms up and Jonas almost ripped the T-shirt right off. His hands splayed out over Jackson’s chest and the look in his eyes was nearly feral. Jackson shivered under the intense gaze.

  “Fuck,” Jonas whispered.

  Jackson’s chest held a smattering of soft blond hair, but that wasn’t the most appealing part. It was the tattoo of a skull right above his right pectoral muscle. Jonas leaned in and licked a path around it. “Do you know how fucking sexy that is?” he growled against Jackson’s pert nipple.

  “The tattoo?” Jackson threaded his fingers in Jonas’ hair.

  “All of it. The tattoo, the skin, the fact that you were a SEAL. Who knew I had a military kink?” Jonas bit down on one nipple. “The way you kiss me, your hands digging into me — it’s driving me crazy!”

  Jackson kicked the coffee table out of the way and rolled them over. They hit the floor with a grunt and Jackson yanked Jonas’ shirt up, promptly kissing his navel and sliding his tongue around it.

  “I didn’t think you’d take my order lightly.” Jackson nibbled his way to the waistband of Jonas’ jeans.

  “A good alpha knows when to back down; besides, it benefited me.”

  “Smart man.” Jackson unbuttoned Jonas’ jeans. He slid the zipper down and peeled the denim back. Jonas’ black boxer briefs were tented showing off the outline of a very large dick. “Fuck, but that looks good.”

  Jackson bent and lodged his nose in Jonas’ groin. The smell of precome filled his senses and his canines elongated. His own cock was stretching his jeans to their limit. He hadn’t been this turned on in years. He wanted to mate with Jonas, take him and claim him. They only had one problem.

  Neither of them had ever been with a man.

  Jackson looked at Jonas’ black eyes and heaving chest, deeply inhaling the smell of arousal. He crawled up Jonas’ body and hovered there before leaning down to lick a path across the other alpha’s lips.