by Fel Fern
Kris grimaced. He knew what a pain in the ass Ryder and his brother could be. Once those two butted heads, they were bound to draw blood. “Sorry. I know my actions were selfish.”
“I’d do the same in your position. I can’t just let a man die, knowing I can help.”
“This one’s different,” Kris found himself saying. “Special. I knew when I saw him in Cyrus’s grip. I never felt rage like that before, not even when I wanted to kill my brother.”
Silence filled the truck. Kris hoped they weren’t too late.
Chapter 4
Sam wove in and out of consciousness. He thought he heard voices during the times he was awake.
“Forty-seven stitches,” someone was saying. A frightened voice in a white coat.
The man he was speaking to was massive. His profile seemed familiar. Sam had dreamt of this giant, this golden-haired behemoth with those strange, scary eyes that glowed blue and gold. A good dream. Even when Sam was bleeding out, half-dead, this man had smiled down at him and continued to carry him. The man now growled, like an actual animal. Sam didn’t know why that made him smile. He wasn’t scary at all. At least not to Sam.
Sam meanwhile felt like he was floating, like he was high on drugs. He never did drugs in his entire life, but it must’ve felt like this.
Sometimes he wondered if it was all a bad dream. Despite his dad’s numerous faults, he’d never take Sam to Ashfall Mountain. The dad Sam knew would never hand him over to a vicious group of panther shifters like he was a disposable object. Trash.
He woke up one day, entire body aching. Sam opened his eyes and found himself in a quiet hospital room. White-washed walls. Machinery beeping nearby. He was in a hospital gown. He looked down at his body, swallowed as he caught sight of the stitches near his collarbone.
“Forty-seven of them,” he whispered to himself. His voice sounded hoarse, weak to his ears. If those stitches were real, then everything he thought was a nightmare—had already happened.
With trembling fingers he lifted the gown to peer at the rest of his body. God. There was also a thick bandage over the side of his neck. He could still remember the agonizing pain that followed once Cyrus took a huge chunk of his skin there. That maniac probably left scars there as well.
He looked like Frankenstein. Like a damn horror show and it was all thanks to his useless prick of a father. No one would want him like this. He’d be alone for the rest of his life. Dads were supposed to be protectors, right?
This was all his father’s fault. Tears welled in his eyes. The image of his father shoving the barrel into his mouth formed in his head. The coward knew those monsters wouldn’t kill them fast, so he took the easy way out, all the while pretending to be noble.
“Buying time my ass. You just wanted to escape,” he whispered furiously to no one.
What did it matter? His father was dead and Sam looked horrid. At the very least he could hide these awful scars under his clothes, and maybe he could start wearing turtlenecks or something to cover the wound on his neck. Sam already had bad luck when it came to relationships. Being disfigured didn’t help.
“I’m going to die alone,” he muttered. He knew he should stop feeling sorry for himself. That all this self-depreciation wasn’t helping, but he was angry. So angry.
“It’s not so bad, little warrior,” a new voice said, rough and deep.
He sucked in a breath, realizing for the first time he wasn’t alone in the room. The golden-haired man, the behemoth he’d dreamt of, was here, sitting on the chair next to the bed. The stranger stood up.
“Oh boy,” Sam whispered.
This man practically took up the entire space. He was six feet plus of big, and every inch of him was made of stone-hard muscle. Scars peeked from the sleeves of his shirt, as well as ink. Tattoos wrapped around his arms, biceps, and there were more under the collar of his shirt. Every inch of him screamed danger.
Ooh. Sexy man. Sam always played it safe when it came to dating, but he didn’t mind getting on the bad boy train for once. Sam could already feel his dick getting hard, an inappropriate reaction given he was in the hospital. The stranger had short gold hair and blazing blue eyes that turned liquid gold. Freaky.
Fear hammered at his heart as the truth dawned on him. There was another monster in his room.
“You’re a shifter,” he accused. “Get out. I’ve had my share of shifters.”
The big guy didn’t budge. Sam gritted his teeth. Then he forced himself to look at the shifter again. Then Sam touched the stitches on his chest. No. His heartbeats calmed down. That wasn’t fair of him at all.
Sam’s head still felt heavy, all foggy-like, but he forced it to clear. To remember. Fragments of memory from that awful day came back to him.
“You’re that enormous white wolf. You and your pack saved me. Why?” Sam wasn’t entirely conscious the entire time, but he was starting to remember some details.
This man wasn’t his enemy but his savior. If he hadn’t come along, then Cyrus would’ve succeeded in Changing Sam against his will. The thought made him shudder. There were die-hard humans out there who’d do anything to become shifters but not him. Cyrus only wanted to Change him so he could last longer. To Cyrus, Sam would only be a toy.
“I don’t know,” the shifter answered. He took a seat again, but those strange eyes never left his.
Sam felt like a fool for telling him off. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not like those werepanthers.”
“We’re the same.”
Sam blinked. The werewolf actually seemed to believe those words. “Are you kidding? Anyone else would’ve taken one look at what was happening and they would’ve run away. You came for me. You’re one of the good ones.”
“No one’s ever called me that.” The werewolf looked deep in thought.
“I don’t even know your name yet,” he said. “I’m Sam. Sam Davis.”
“Kristopher Ward. Kris.”
“You’re one of the shifters living on Ashfall Mountain?” Sam asked.
Cyrus had been his first encounter with shifters. Sam had lived in the town of Ashfall all his life, but folks usually kept to their own side of the fence. Rumors did, however, circulate around town like wildfire. Sam heard three groups of dangerous shifters had taken up residence in Ashfall Mountain. Cyrus’s group had been one of them. Kris must belong to one of the two werewolf packs there.
Kris nodded. “Sam, what were you doing in Black Claws territory? Did you know the dead man?”
“You’re not police, are you?” he had to ask, surprised when Kris let out a laugh. He had a feeling a guy like Kris didn’t laugh that often.
“No,” Kris finally answered. “You don’t have to worry about the cops sniffing around you either.”
He frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“The cops, everyone in this fucking town is afraid of us, of me.”
“You?” He sounded puzzled. “Why? You saved me from a psychopath.”
“That’s just it. You seem to think I’m a good guy. I’m not. Someday, I’ll devolve and end up like Cyrus.”
Kris sounded completely serious, he realized. Sam refused to believe that. “Stop trying to scare me,” he said. Sam touched the bandage on his neck and looked at Kris. “Oh God. Kris, tell me the truth. Am I … a shifter? A werepanther now?”
Sam didn’t feel any different, but he wanted to make sure he didn’t end up being Changed into the very thing he hated.
“No. He was about to force feed you his blood. That’s the final step in Changing a human, but he didn’t manage to complete the process.”
“Thanks to you.” Sam took a deep breath.
It felt like he could trust Kris with his secrets. It was a strange thought. Sam hardly knew the werewolf, and yet he already felt comfortable around him, like they were strangers who’d known each other their entire lives.
Kris didn’t give off a scary vibe like Cyrus and his crazy panther shifters. Sam felt safe around him, and
besides, Sam had no one else to talk to. He spent all his time working, juggling jobs while his father just blew everything he earned. Sam had no time to socialize, make friends, or date.
First, Sam needed something to drink. His throat felt parched. “I’ll tell you everything, but can you get me something to drink?”
He didn’t think a shifter wanted to be ordered around, but Kris only nodded, left his room, and returned with a bottled water. Sam spotted two nurses whispering behind Kris’s back. One even winked at him, but Kris just ignored her and closed the door. Why wouldn’t they? Kris was a hell of a looker, if one ignored the scars. Sam was able to study him closer now, and Kris looked beat up, like he just got into a fight.
“How long have I been here?” he asked, drinking the water Kris handed to him.
“Three days. You were unconscious the entire time. I was beginning to worry.”
This big guy, worried over him? A fuzzy feeling came over him. This was nice. Apart from his mom, no one really cared about him before.
“Wait a moment. I thought shifters healed fast. You’re hurt,” he said. “Don’t you need medical attention?”
Kris shook his head. “This is nothing. Just a fight with my brother. We do it all the time.”
“Your brother?”
Kris nodded. “We’re in the same pack. Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“Wow. That’s a first.”
Kris frowned.
“Sorry. It’s just, all the guys I’ve dated in the past always like to brag about themselves. You’re the first guy to ask me about me. Not that we’re on a date or anything. Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”
He blinked. “Okay then. That other dead guy is my dad. He had some debts and owed Cyrus money.”
A growl tickled out of Kris’s throat. He should be scared of that sound, but it was actually kind of hot. Sexy. He cleared his throat and drank more water.
“Let me guess. That useless piece of shit sold you out.”
Woah. Kris’s voice had turned all growly, and his eyes were bright gold now, his expression dead serious. Angry almost.
“Yeah. I mean, I should’ve known better. I kept telling him not to trust Cyrus, that borrowing money from the Black Claws won’t end up well, but he did it anyway. His body…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Kris.
The werewolf shook his head. “I only had time to nab you and we were in their territory. Knowing the Black Claws, they probably got rid of the body. I’m sorry, Sam.”
“It’s okay. There’s no need to apologize. Let him rot there,” he said with a vehemence he didn’t know he possessed. “He killed himself, you know? Told me he’ll only slow me down, so he grabbed the gun and pushed the barrel into his mouth.”
That image would haunt him his entire life.
“In some ways,” he said, “he redeemed himself. I was angry at him. Still am, but now, I’m thinking maybe he did it for me. Maybe he regretted his actions in the end.”
“No. He was a selfish fucker who cared about saving his own skin. I know all about shitty fathers.”
He looked at Kris closely now. “Maybe you’re right, but he’s gone now. What’s going to happen to me? Is Cyrus still—”
“Yeah.” Kris looked pissed. He clenched his jaw. “Talon injured him badly, but he’s alive. He called his entire pride to protect him.”
Sam remembered the two werewolves with Kris. “Oh my God. Kris, are your pack mates all right? I must sound so selfish. I forgot to ask about them.”
“They’re fine. Been in worst scrapes before and knowing those two?” Kris scoffed. “Max followed me because he was worried. I’ll believe that, but Talon? He’s just itching for a fight.”
“Talon is?” Sam was suddenly curious about Kris, about pack life. He knew a human had no business butting into shifter business, but he couldn’t help himself.
“My Alpha.” Kris said the last word like he didn’t quite believe it. “Enough talk for the day. You still need rest. I’m calling the nurse to bring in some food.”
“Wait,” he blurted as Kris began to stand. He grabbed Kris’s wrist unthinkingly. Panic began to set in again. Sam knew it was ridiculous, but he had a feeling Cyrus wouldn’t rest until he saw Sam dead or, worse, Changed. “Please don’t leave me here all alone.”
The shifter gave him an odd look. The next words out of his Kris’s mouth chased away all his fears. “I’m never leaving your side.”
Chapter 5
Arguing voices woke Sam from his erotic dream. One man sounded like Kris.
“You can’t bring a human to our pack compound. Talon will gut you.”
“I’ll deal with Talon. Fuck off, Alec, or I’ll fight you.”
The other man, Alec, scoffed. “You can’t take me. Let’s go outside. Now.”
“No. This is a hospital. We’ll settle this once we get back home if you want.”
Hearing the door to his room open, Sam pretended to sleep.
“You heard all that?” Kris asked.
Sam opened his eyes and sat up slowly in bed. “Yeah. Sorry. You guys weren’t exactly being quiet. Was that a fellow pack mate?”
“Yeah and my brother. You’re being discharged today, but you can’t go back to the apartment you shared with your dad.”
“I can’t?” he asked, blinking. Not that Sam wanted to. Returning to that shit hole littered with beer bottles and trash churned his stomach. True to Kris’s words, no local enforcement had come down to the hospital to take his statement. Hell, no one even reported his father missing. No surprise there. His old man wasn’t exactly Mr. Nice Guy. He was more of the town drunk.
“No. The Black Claws won’t take defeat lying down. You’re now involved and if you stay in town…” Kris trailed off, then shook his head. “There’s a risk Cyrus will send one of his cats to track you down and finish the job.”
He turned pale at those words. Sam shivered despite the warm room. Kris sat next to him on the bed and pulled him close. Sam rested his head on Kris’s big and warm chest. He closed his eyes. This felt too damn good, having his man comfort him. His man?
Sam blushed. Could he even call Kris that? They were practically strangers and yet this felt right. He didn’t have anyone to turn to either.
“I’m just a human,” he said, opening his eyes to Kris.
“That’s exactly it. When you got away, you wounded Cyrus’s pride. If word got out a human evaded their group, their reputation would take a hit. For shifters, it’s all about maintaining reputation.”
“So I need to come live with you a little while, for protection?” Sam asked. “Wow. I’ve never imagined a hot guy asking me to move with him before.”
Kris took Sam’s hands in his. His fingers looked small in comparison to the shifter’s big and callused ones. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”
“What about your pack?” Sam had to ask. “I don’t want you getting into any trouble.”
Kris scoffed. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m surprised you’re taking this quite well.”
“The apartment my dad and I shared, it hadn’t felt like home in a long time. Since my mom passed away, he’s become a complete stranger to me. It’s been so lonely.”
Sam bit his lower lip. Crap. He wished he could take back those words. Sam must’ve sounded so pathetic to Kris. He bet Kris had no problems getting guys. Kris was a ten and Sam was not even a one.
“You don’t have to worry about feeling alone anymore.” Kris cupped his cheek.
His heart sped as Kris lowered his mouth to his. Heat kindled in his belly and went right to his dick, his balls, and to the rest of his body. He’d never been kissed like this. Kris ran his tongue down his upper lips, then his lower one. The werewolf nipped, drawing a little bit of blood. Sam tasted copper, but he didn’t care, not when Kris dropped his hand from his cheek and started running it down the length of his body.
He leane
d into Kris’s touch, eager for more. Sam parted his mouth a little wider, and Kris thrust his tongue down his throat. Sam was drowning. All his problems ebbed away. His father’s death, Cyrus, and those monstrous panther shifters seemed like a bad dream.
Someone cleared their throat in the background. Seeing the nurse, he parted from Kris although he was loath to.
“This is a hospital,” the nurse with the tight bun and sharp eyes said.
Kris leaned in close to his ear and licked at it. Sam shuddered. “We’ll continue this later,” Kris said.
Right. Sam wasn’t going back to his old place, but to somewhere new and exciting. An adventure. With Kris. Sam knew the stakes. That Kris was doing this as a precaution. This was still a life and death situation. Sam had the scars to prove he was a survivor. Maybe if Kris wasn’t here, he’d been downright terrified, but Sam wasn’t alone anymore.
Sam could finally free himself from the vicious cycle of monotony he’d been trapped in for what felt like forever. It wasn’t just wake up, go to work, and clean after his dad anymore.
“You’re smiling,” Kris said as the nurse checked his vitals.
“Yeah. I think I’m happy.”
Strange emotion to feel, Sam mused, especially when he had a psychotic Alpha werepanther hunting him, but he wasn’t worried. He knew Kris wouldn’t leave his side. Kris stayed up all night the entire time he was here. Kris would protect him, make sure Cyrus would never touch him again.
* * * *
“Okay. I’ve called my supervisor at work and spoken to the landlord. What else?” Sam was saying.
After Sam was discharged from the hospital, Kris drove Sam back to his apartment to gather his stuff. Kris wrinkled his nose the moment they entered. The entire place reeked of stale food and empty beer bottles. Sam started to tidy up the place while he was making a mental list of things to do.
“Pack some clothes,” Kris said. He held out a black garbage bag as Sam tossed more beer bottles inside.
He put the bag amongst the others in the kitchen while Sam got ready. Kris washed his hands. Curiosity got the better of him and he explored the apartment. There wasn’t much to see. The place only had a tiny kitchen, living room and two bedrooms. There was a well-worn armchair in the living room that smelled strongly of the dead guy he spotted in the woods. Sam’s father. From the sound of it, the old bastard didn’t deserve a good son like Sam.
