by BA Tortuga
He would trust her to do the job on the guards. He barked at Helena to follow him. He’d need her help.
The scent of urine and rot hit him when he opened the door, and he gagged, ducking as a huge black mess scrabbled out of the room, dragging its back legs, hissing and spitting.
“Sam!” he called out, putting every ounce of whatever it was he and Sam had together into his voice. Christ. He was going to just lose it if Sam didn’t know him.
Sam stopped short and spun around, huge stoned eyes staring at him, searching his face. For a long moment, he didn’t think Sam was in there, and then Sam started toward him. He caught his kitty just as Sam fell, hoisting up that too-skinny body.
“Come on, babe. Helena, watch our back trail. Marina, get your butt going!”
“I’m right here. I have all their weapons.” Marina grabbed a coat—thank God, because she looked like Carrie on prom night.
“Good girl.” Sam didn’t weigh near enough. His Puss had always been deceptively heavy, but not now. Damn it.
Sam yowled furiously, talking to him, making this wild noise. Yeah. Yeah, he got that. They had to get out. “Gray! Coming your way.”
Gray’s bark answered him, the huge white wolf at his calf as he turned the corner. Damn, that was a sight. No wonder no one had dared come to the guards’ rescue. Those gunshots had been audible, but what kitty wanted to face tricked-out Gray? Blind or not, he looked like a berserker.
Helena got to the van first—and he suddenly appreciated the idea, even as much as he’d screamed earlier about them picking fucking Maine for their hidey hole instead of staying closer. Jesus. They could drive out of the city, just go and keep going. He tossed Sam at Helena, grabbed Marina, who was slowing down, and barked for Gray. Come on, come on.
Gray leapt for the van, scrambling up, and he tossed Marina in, her body strangely light. She was agile, though, wrapping around Sam. “Go. Go. Go.”
They tore out, the late hour and the relatively deserted area making it easy for them to get the tires spinning. Helena was definitely a desert girl. She could flat-out drive.
Gray howled, licking at Sam, and Marina was growling, covered in blood, protecting Sam. Gus was going to bite someone.
He took a deep breath. “Gray, get a grip. I’ll need you to help with the medicine. You, breathe.” He glowered at Marina until she stared back, panting.
Then he looked at Sam. “Hey, Puss.”
Sam’s eyes met his, wild and unfocused and hurting. Jesus. This was…. Those motherfuckers. He wanted to howl. He wanted to go back and find every cat that had hurt Sam and kill them. He couldn’t. Sam needed him to hold it together. He touched his mate, fingers on the matted fur. There were bones grinding under there, scabs, raw spots. Rage built in him, and he pushed it back. Sam needed him, his care, not the anger. “C’mere, Puss. Let me hold you now.”
Sam yowled softly, crawled into his lap where he sat in the van. Marina grabbed one of the blankets and offered it over. Nodding his thanks, he wrapped it around them, ignoring the stench that rose from Sam’s fur.
Sam was muttering, talking to him hard, and while his brain didn’t understand the mewls and chirps, his soul got it. He’d come and Sam had waited. Just like his Puss had rescued him, he’d saved Sam.
Gray was pushing Marina down, cleaning her, and she twisted, yelping. “Hey!”
That gave Gus his first smile of the night. “He’s just helping, honey. Grooming.”
Gray growled happily, tail thumping. This poor girl—she had no pack structure, no kin, and she’d been brutalized. Gray, on the other hand, came from one of the most dysfunctional yet normal wolf families around. It was going to be a fun trip.
“The shot I gave him’s going to wear off. He’ll need painkillers.” Marina squeaked. “That’s my belly!”
“He can’t see it if you get naked.” He stroked Sam’s back. “Did you get the kit I asked for, Helena?”
“Of course. We’re heading up to Maine. There’s enough remote area there. Did I tell you?”
“Five times.” Maine. Christ. He wasn’t sure anywhere on the East Coast was going to be far enough away, but there were moose there or something, right? Jesus.
“Gray, will you quit licking her!”
Gray’s huge head turned toward him, and then the big wolf headed for Sam.
“Nope. I got this. I promise.” He wasn’t going to change in front of Marina, but he would tend to Sam.
Marina just stared. “He’s wolfy. I mean, a lot.”
“He is. He grew up out in the open, you know?” Gus liked Gray all the more as a wolf, really.
“Not really. I haven’t changed in over three years.”
He stared, and even Sam roused a little at that, tail lashing. That was a relief. With those back legs that numb and not working, he’d been worried that something was wrong with Sam’s spine. This looked like it was better.
“Hey, Sammy. You’re in there. I like the look.”
Sam yowled, plaintive and grumpy, and Gus laughed for sheer relief. Those green eyes met his, and another yowl split the air. Poor baby. Gus scratched between Sam’s ears.
“As soon as we’re out of town, we’ll stop, Puss. Rest.”
Marina handed him a syringe. “Painkillers. It’ll help, huh?”
“Thanks.” He took the shot and pushed it into the skin at the back of Sam’s neck, boom. The dose had been premeasured, so he didn’t worry on it.
Sam didn’t even respond to the actual shot, the cat’s muzzle on his free hand, asking for more touches. Gus gave them willingly, stroking the poor abused body, happy that Sam was alive, if not kicking.
When the shot hit, for a terrible, terrible second, Gus thought Sam had died on him, the huge body going boneless. Then Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, then another, before relaxing into the regular rhythm of sleep.
Thank God. Who knew how long it was going to take Sam to heal, but he was safe now. Gus would make sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
HE SMELLED snow, but he was warm.
He hadn’t been warm in days, but he was now.
He liked it.
Sam was fairly sure he was dead. More than fairly sure, even. How else could he explain the soft bed and blankets, the smell of Gus all around him? They were never going to let him go.
Sam thought about curling in around the soft, heady scent of Gus, but that would hurt. Or would it? He tried and yowled. That was no fair, to be dead and still hurt, damn it.
“Shh. It’s okay, babe. I have some pills. I ground them up and put them in clam juice. I know you like that.” That was so not Marina.
“Am I dead?” He started shivering as he tried to wake up.
“No, babe. We stopped that process.” Gus’s breath brushed across his cheek. “Wake up, Puss, and tell me hello.”
“You’re real? You swear? Because I saw you a lot when I was in there.”
“Helena and Gray found me, babe.” Gus bent, kissing his mouth, and oh. Oh, real.
His eyes flew open, searching Gus’s eyes. His Gus. Oh God. Real. Real. Gus. Gus.
“Hey, Puss.” Gus smiled, and there was relief in those dark eyes.
“Hey.” All he could do was stare. Well, stare and drink the juice Gus fed him. It was briny and raw and so good that he wanted to cry. Protein and juice. Woo. It hit his belly with a gurgle, making him gasp in air as he fought to keep it down.
“That’s it, Puss. Just breathe for me. I know. I know.” Gus was a terrible nurse, but he was clearly trying.
Sam eased back, staring, refusing to look away even for a second. “Where are we?”
“Uh….” Gus glanced around, finally grabbing something off a table near the bed. “Maine.”
“Ah. Snow.” The room turned a little blue around the edges. “Marina?”
“She’s with Gray and Helena in another cabin.” Gus stroked his cheek.
“You brought her. I said you would.” His head was heavy. “Missed you.”
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“I missed you too. You’re gonna kick me when you find out what I thought.” Gus was petting him, easing him down into the place where the pain wasn’t so bad.
“You thought I’d left. I should have come, that day. I should have come to you.” He’d been saying it over and over.
“I should never have left without you.” Gus laughed a little. “We were so new. Not leaving you now.”
“I don’t know. They hurt my legs. Bad.” He didn’t remember much, didn’t want to remember much, but what he did recall was harsh.
“I know, babe. You’re healing. Helena says she knows someone who can do acupuncture to help it along.” He could hear the growl in Gus’s voice, the rage.
He nodded, thoughts scattering wildly. “Do you think they’ll want to kill me at home? Since I’m broken?”
“The pack, you mean?” Gus seemed to ponder that for a long while. “I think we need to wait awhile before a gathering, maybe. But no, I think they think you’re pretty broken already.”
“Excellent point.” A wave of sheer hysteria hit him, and he panted through it, the room spinning. “Did they hurt you?”
“No. No, babe.” Gus moved even closer, stretching out next to him. “It’s the drugs, huh? Just breathe.”
He nodded, tried to breathe. It wasn’t easy, though, and the only thing that kept him from panic was Gus, right there. Solid. Warm. Real. He’d dreamed of Gus, held on to the memory of their time together during all the torture.
“I got you.”
“I thought….” Hell, who knew what he thought?
“I know. You never even said you loved me.”
It wasn’t blame. Sam could tell. It was more like commiseration. “I do. You know it. Mate. We’re mates.” Right? Still?
“Yes. God, yes.” That mouth pressed gently to his, Gus telling him more physically than verbally.
The flavor of Gus hit him, and he did yowl then, crying out into the kiss. Gus held him while he shook, while everything that had happened sort of seemed to try to get out of him all at once. The cat wanted out, fought him, and he snarled and twisted, fighting it, the urge. The moon wasn’t full. It wasn’t full, damn it. Gus held him, which made it easier to hold it together, made it better. His. His mate. After what felt like years but was probably seconds, he went boneless, panting through the jolts of pain.
“Better. I can give you another pill in three hours. Why don’t you try to sleep again?”
“I’m okay.” He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to find out he’d been dreaming.
“Okay, so, talk to me.” Gus rubbed noses with him.
“Did you find your rocks?” It had been something with a mite, Sam thought.
“Yeah. I got one big piece that will go for maybe ten thousand.”
“Good for you. I was hoping you did.” That was a lie. He’d hoped Gus was miserable and coming to look for him.
“You know I dig to escape shit, babe. I was worried that you’d changed your mind.”
“I don’t think I can. You’re mine.” Balls to bones.
“Yep.” Gus seemed way more cheerful about it than he had been before he’d left.
“I don’t know what to do next, really.” It felt like a confession.
“Heal, babe. We’re safe here. Helena has it all worked out how to cross into Canada if we need to.”
“I fought them.” He hadn’t, not for a long time, but he had this time.
“You did good. Marina told us how brave you were.”
He shook his head. He didn’t know about that, but he hadn’t died, hadn’t let them have anything. That would have to be enough. Right? Enough? He shook his head again, tried to clear it. Everything was… distant.
“It’s the drugs, Puss. Just try to go back to sleep.” It was weird how Gus seemed to be reading his mind.
“I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to wake up.”
“It’s safe now, though.” Gus tilted his head back gently to peer into his eyes. “I’m right here.”
“You’re real?” He knew it was stupid, but….
“I am. Right here, babe. Sleep.”
He tried to purr, but he didn’t have any of those left. So he slept instead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
GUS WATCHED Sam sleep, still, and tried not to fret. It had been days, and usually guys like him and Sam healed better than this. Man, he wanted a cigarette.
“They really did a number on him, huh?” He grinned a little at Marina, who handed him a cup of coffee.
“They tried to break him, I think. I thought he’d die. The doctor said the thing in his back was….” She sighed. “Harsh.”
“He’s stronger than he looks.” Gus had found that out, over and over.
“He is. They drugged him with something that kept him from changing, but when I gave him the uppers, he changed, and I thought it was all fixed. He’d heal faster as a cat, right?”
“He would, yeah.” At least Gus supposed he would. Who knew, with his weird catness? That made him chuckle.
Marina smiled back, head ducking. “Thank you, you know? For bringing me.”
“You had to get out of there, hon.” There was no way he could have left her. She felt like pack already.
“I know.” She met his eyes. “I saw him, and I couldn’t let them kill him.”
“Thank you.” He grinned. They had a mutual admiration thing. “I’ll take you to Sam’s mom. She’s good at easing new members into the pack. Once you get used to being a wolf, you can go where you want, but I think you need to be somewhere safe.”
“He told me stories about her. His dad just died recently, huh?”
“Yeah. Not long ago.” He sighed. “They’ve had a rough time.”
She nodded, and Gus wanted to growl, snarl at the assholes who’d hurt her. Instead he patted her roughly on the shoulder. “You’ll like their family, hon. I can’t promise no one else will lick you.”
“Yeah, Gray’s a little… licky.”
Helena came in, stomping snow off her feet. “You know it. I have to make plans to get back to Chicago soon, Gus. My firm is screaming. What do you need from me?”
“I need to know we won’t be bothered by a local pack, that we can stay here at least two weeks, and I need you and Gray to talk to your mom about Marina.”
“Gray’s already spoken to her. She wants to come here and nurse Sammy. Alpha gave me the address for this place. The pack here is related to him—a sister?”
Jesus, the girl was preternaturally efficient. “No on your mother, yay on the pack.” He didn’t need Sam’s mom here. Sam would freak out.
Helena chuffed softly, the sound tickled. “That’s what I told Gray. He’s pouting.”
“As long as he quits licking people.” Gray didn’t get out much, poor guy. “He can stay.”
“He’s still fuzzy, FYI.” Gray had the hardest time switching back. “I fed him, but he’s wanting to get in here to Sam.”
“So, let him in. Sam won’t mind a grooming.” He winked at Marina, who seemed fascinated.
Helena opened the door and whistled, and Gray came running, the huge wolf’s hearing remarkably accurate. Of course, he guessed the guy was blind, not deaf, right? You compensated for one with the other.
Gray pounced on the bed, nosing Sam, tongue on the man’s bandages, trying to get under them.
“Gray, you’re such a puppy sometimes.” Helena sighed, rolled her eyes. “Turd.”
Gray barked, but Sam didn’t even jump, really, sleeping so hard. Healing.
“You can’t get the bandages off, man. They’re important.” Marina went over, fingers brushing through Sam’s heavy hair. “You need to get better, kitty.”
Sam moaned a little but didn’t pull away. Gus thought it was amazing, the kind of loyalty his Puss inspired. He’d felt it at the funeral, when he thought he didn’t like the man. He found himself heading over, fingers on Sam’s thigh. He needed to touch, needed to make sure Sam was still with them and b
reathing and not bothered by Gray, who was snuffling Sam’s face….
Sam growled softly, one swollen, bruised hand pushing Gray away. Gray snorted and headed for those ravaged legs. One had been broken but good; the other was just torn to hell.
“Stop it, Gray. Not now.” He knew that Gray’s help would actually speed healing, but Sam needed rest. Sleep.
Gray nibbled on Sam’s fingers, then headed for Marina, who backed up.
Gus bit back a chuckle, going for deadpan. “You need to smell like pack….”
“Nonsense. No more licking.”
Helena snorted. “He’s harmless, sweetie. Trust me.”
Gray actually looked affronted. Gus could understand that. No dude liked to be called harmless. “I bet Gray can kick some ass.”
Helena’s look was fond. “He is a warrior, our Gray. A little obsessive, but fierce.”
Gray barked happily, tail wagging, reminding Gus of the joy that came with being in wolf form.
Sam’s eyes popped open, rolled. “Love that sound.”
“Family, huh?” He stroked Sam’s skin, wanting Sam to be back to normal.
“Family. Wolves.” Sam moved toward him. “Mate.”
He caught Sam up against him, glancing at Helena, who nodded and pulled Gray and Marina out of the room.
Sam pressed against him, a soft purr sounding. That lean body was already healing, already better. It was good to see, and he held Sam close.
“Everything okay?” The rumbling voice vibrated against him.
“As long as you are, yeah. Okay, I mean.” He scratched Sam’s back a little, up and down.
“Trying to be.” Sam rippled for him. “That feels good. I forgot about that.”
“You tend to forget how good touch feels after torture.” He’d found that out in a much less horrifying way in the desert, where they’d beaten him down a little.
“Yeah.” Sam looked at him, eyes huge, lost, worried. “They fucked my legs up.”
“You’ll heal. It’s not permanent.” He and Helena had made sure there was no spinal damage. Marina had done a damn good job, really. It was just going to take time.
Those eyes closed again, Sam looking a little green around the edges.
