by Zoe Perdita
“Do you hate them?” Wild demanded, shaking Caleb from his thoughts.
“No. I’ve never gotten flowers before. Thank you, Whelp. They’re nice.”
The little wolf grinned again, almost shyly, and sat down at the table.
It was hard to believe Wild had lived without any human contact for five years, seeing how far he’d come now. “We need to find the hunter’s camp,” the little wolf said after he’d devoured one fish. “I still think we should check the hotels.”
“I’m not sure how a hunter would afford that. They’ve been out there over two months – that’s one expensive hotel bill.”
The little wolf shrugged. “Fine. Maybe they’re staying with someone, like I’m staying with you.”
The thought made the hair on the back of Caleb’s neck stand up. “It’s a possibility,” he admitted. “But we have no way of finding out if that’s the case or not. We have to catch the bastard in action.”
Who the hell would house a hunter for that long? Unless they didn’t know he was a hunter, but it still raised too many questions, like how did this hunter afford to stay with someone. Was it a friend or family member? Did any of the locals know about were-creatures? Probably not.
“Let’s head up the mountain today. There’s snow at the higher elevations and the road to the other side of the mountain is still closed.”
Wild shoved the last bite of fish into his mouth and nodded. “What if we can’t find him on time?” he asked and his fork clinked on the plate.
Caleb let out a long breath. That was a very real possibility, especially if things kept going at the same rate. But the little wolf’s furrowed brow and round eyes stilled the white wolf’s tongue. “We will. Come on. I think we should trade places today. I’ll turn and you stay human.”
“I can’t use the crossbow,” Wild said as he carried his plate to the sink.
The big wolf raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you could do anything.”
“You know what I meant – wolf stuff. That’s human stuff.”
“It’s not that hard. You just point and shoot – we can practice on the way. Don’t shoot me, though.”
The whelp glowered at him, but it held no malice. Then he gathered up the things they’d need for the hike. Thankfully, Wild dressed without complaint, though he grumbled as he tied up the hiking boots – bare feet gripped the ground better, he claimed.
Caleb smiled. “And they wouldn’t protect your ankles from another trap.”
The little wolf grabbed the walking stick from its place against the wall. “You’re supposed to keep your nose out for it. If I stepped into a trap, it’d be your fault.”
“Touché,” he said as he slipped off his jeans. Wild’s eyes lingered on his naked body, his pink tongue flicking out and over his lips urgently.
The white wolf’s thoughts wandered back to that night – five days before, and his groin burned with the same desire. No. They had work to do, and he couldn’t give in to the whelp again, no matter how good it felt.
He shifted as they stepped outside, and Wild wound his fingers through the smooth white fur. “Someday, we’ll have to go for a run through the woods – after we take care of the hunter.”
Caleb nodded and stalked toward the forest, the little wolf walking next to him awkwardly. They slipped off the trail and into the deep woods, headed up the mountain. The fir trees blocked much of the overhead light, only slivers of blue shone in the sky above their heads. A carpet of pine needles littered the floor, and the temperature dropped the farther they climbed – another reason he insisted Wild wear the boots.
The whelp practiced with the crossbow as they went, aiming at trees and pinecones. He wasn’t a good shot, but he’d get better in time.
The undergrowth thinned to nothing the higher they climbed. Rock outcroppings jutted from the ground now and then, some large enough to camp under. The rock was blackened, but none of them were recently used. The entire wood smelled of pine, fir and the clinging chill of winter.
Soon they passed patches of snow, laced with dirt, and the little wolf poked each one with his walking stick. No traps so far. Good. That meant the hunter had focused his efforts on the lower mountain and not bothered this high up.
A hawk circled in the sky above the trees, and the white wolf sniffed the air. The sharp odor of blood and death tickled his nose, and he turned his great head up to Wild. From the look on the whelp’s face, he smelled it too.
They trod carefully toward the source of the stench, Wild testing the ground with the walking stick and Caleb sniffing for any signs of metal. It could be a coyote or bobcat kill, but it wasn’t worth it to take that chance. Then the sharp reek of metal met the large wolf’s nose, and he let out a low growl. Hopefully, Wild understood its intent.
The little wolf slowed and gathered a handful of Caleb’s fur in his hand. While he’d told the whelp just that morning that they were equals, he couldn’t deny the urge to move in front of the little wolf and protect him from whatever they were about to find.
The bear’s twisted body lay in a pile of pine needles at the top of a small rise in the landscape. Three crossbow bolts stuck out of her chest like some macabre dartboard. Blood caked her claws and her dark fur. From the look of her body, huge and stiff, she’d been dead for several hours.
Wild took a sharp breath and dropped the walking stick. It clattered to the ground with a dull thud. “That smells like the mother bear,” he mumbled.
The white wolf sat back on his haunches and lowered his ears. Whoever did this wasn’t just hunting them – he was hunting all the creatures on the mountain, and he was going to pay for his arrogance. Something coiled in Caleb’s gut, a burning anger for the man disrupting life on his mountain – his territory.
“What are we going to do with her?” Wild asked, his voice shaking and his emerald eyes wide. “She had cubs – I met them once.”
Caleb didn’t smell any other animals. Hopefully, the hunter had caught the mother bear on her own and left the cubs unharmed. He stepped up to the bear and sniffed her claws – the blood was a different odor than her own. This blood was human, a hunter’s blood.
The little wolf crouched next to him and did the same.
The hunter was injured from his fight with the bear. Unlike a were-creature, humans healed at a snail’s pace. He’d be moving slowly, and they’d use that to their advantage.
The white wolf caught the whelp’s sleeve and pulled. There was nothing more they could do for her but locate the bastard and finish him off before he killed any other animals.
Wild hesitated for a moment, then he leaned down and grabbed the walking stick from the forest’s floor. As he did, a bolt flew over his head and lodged into the tree next to him.
The little wolf’s round eyes met Caleb’s, and the white wolf cursed his idea for them to trade places. Wild moved more gracefully as a wolf not a human, especially one hampered by hiking boots. The next bolt wouldn’t miss.
The white wolf, teeth bared, nudged the whelp with his head, forcing the little wolf onto his massive back. Wild swung his leg over Caleb, as the white wolf took off – running through the woods at his top speed. A wave of pine needles rose in his wake.
Hands clung to his fur, and the walking stick clattered uselessly behind him. Caleb tried, as best he could, to go back the way they came. If a trap caught him now –
No time to think about that.
Run!
The trees slowed his progress, dodging each one took precious seconds from their grand escape. At least Wild had the sense to lean forward and bury his face in the white wolf’s fur.
Smaller target – that was good.
Another bolt whistled past them.
Too close!
Dammit!
The third found its mark, and Caleb yelped as the thin metal cylinder buried itself in his upper shoulder. Pain shot down his leg and spine, but he barely slowed his pace. The hunter was wounded. Not a chance in hell he could keep up wit
h a wolf.
Caleb ran until the firs and pines gave way to ash, birch and maple. Green ferns brushed his fur, and the sunlight warmed his snout. Every step he took was labored, slowing steadily, and Wild slipped off his back and looked around, as if the hunter kept pace with them.
“You’re hurt! What should I do?” he asked, and his heart pounded in his chest as if he was the one running down a mountain carrying another wolf on his back.
Caleb stayed in his wolf form, but kept pressure off his wounded leg. Looking back up the mountain, they’d left a clear trail that any hunter could follow. That’s probably what the bastard was betting on. He wanted to be able to find them, not kill them right there. Well, he wasn’t going to get the chance.
As soon as the creek came into view, the white wolf plunged into it. The icy water soaked his fur, and his great paws slipped on the rounded stones littering the stream’s bed, but it was the only way to hide their trail.
Wild removed his boots and splashed behind Caleb without a word.
When he finally stumbled back to the cabin, Caleb shifted into his human form and collapsed against the bathroom sink, shivering from the cold water and the slow but steady loss of blood.
“Caleb. Should I call Dr. Richards?” Wild asked in a much steadier voice than he’d used before.
The white wolf nodded and looked at the bolt sticking out of his shoulder. It was embedded in his flesh a good two to three inches. Removing it would increase the blood loss but leaving it in hurt like a son-of-a-bitch!
He slumped on the edge of the tub, and listened to Wild talk on the phone. Funny. He couldn’t remember telling the whelp Dr. Richard’s number. Maybe the little wolf found it in the contact list.
After he hung up the phone, Wild leaned over him and started a hot bath, nudging Caleb into the tub. The water eased the constant shivers traveling up and down his spine, and he glanced at Wild’s unshaven jaw as he leaned back.
“He said to warm you up until he arrived. I’m not supposed to take out the bolt. I’m sorry. It’s my fault you–”
The white wolf shook his head. “You didn’t shoot me, Wild. He did. Don’t worry about it. We threw him off our trail and caught his scent. We’ll catch him soon enough.”
Wild gave him a stiff nod and leaned forward. His lips brushed Caleb’s, the kiss as soft as a butterfly’s wings. The white wolf looked up at the whelp, and his heart twisted and ached. If the hunter aimed just a little bit higher, things might be very different right now.
The little wolf soaped a cloth and rubbed it over Caleb’s throbbing muscles, washing away as much of the blood as possible. He stared at the whelp’s intent green eyes and his dark hair – the way it stood up all over his head since he hadn’t combed it yet.
Leaning back in the tub, he let the water ease him – although he flinched whenever Wild neared the bolt.
“I’ll take care of you,” the little wolf said.
Caleb smiled. “Yeah. I know.”
Peter reached across the table and forked the last sausage. His eyes met Caleb’s, and the young man’s cheeks burned under the werewolf’s gaze. Why did he insist on eating breakfast with them every damn morning?
“Are you enjoying your stay?” his mom asked, just like she had each day for the past two weeks. What did she expect? One day he’d say ‘no’?
“Of course. You have the best possible hospitality,” Peter said, his voice low and resonant – dragging over Caleb’s flesh like the man’s slender fingers.
He did it on purpose. Maybe he liked to see the young man squirm under his smoldering eyes, the secret the two of them held stretched in the air like a piece of spider’s silk.
Peter came to his room every afternoon, and sometimes at night too. Each encounter sent charged electricity across Caleb’s skin, and fulfilled the burning desire in his gut – but it was never entirely pleasant.
Like the first time, Peter was rough and his touch often left bruises or bites along the young man’s eager body. But Caleb was the man’s mate, so he put up with it. Maybe after more time together he’d learn to enjoy everything Peter did to him.
Caleb took his last bite of toast and carried his breakfast to the sink.
“Are you going for your morning walk?” his mom asked.
Peter padded his lips with a napkin and nodded. “Yes. I do enjoy escorting Caleb to school. He’s such an interesting young man.”
His mom giggled, like she was much younger than her forty-four years. “Well I think it’s nice. He needs a father figure to look up to.”
The plate slipped out of Caleb’s fingers and crashed into the sink on top of the other dishes. “Mom! He’s no where near old enough to be my dad!” he cried.
“Oh, it’s just a saying, sweetheart. Nothing to get upset about.”
He spun on his heel and caught the smirk on Peter’s perfect lips. It didn’t help matters, and Caleb groaned as he stomped out of the room and grabbed his backpack.
Father figure? That’s what she came up with? What would happen if she found out the truth – Peter was fucking her son almost every day? She wouldn’t think he was such a father figure then.
The young man was about to leave the wolf behind, but Peter joined him on the porch, the man’s strong hand clamping his shoulder like a vice. “Why are you in such a rush?”
Could his cheeks burn any hotter? Probably not. “I don’t want to be late again,” Caleb mumbled.
“Why go at all? Are you really learning anything there?”
He glanced at Peter, the man’s dark hair curling slightly around his ears, as they walked down the sidewalk. “I have to go to school if I want to graduate.”
“I remember how much a high school diploma helped me,” the wolf mused. “Not at all. Aren’t you tired of this town?”
Caleb’s heart slammed in his chest. Was this it? Was Peter going to ask him to run away? “Of course, but I’m stuck here for now. I don't have any money or a car. How the hell can I leave?” No use mentioning his mom and how badly she needed him to work for free.
“That’s all you need? A car and cash? We can go anywhere you desire, wolf’s bait, but you have to have the courage to escape.”
He slowed his steps. “I have the courage. I’d leave right now if I had the chance!”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”
“Yeah! I said I would. Let’s go. We can make it to Canada and do whatever the hell we want.”
The man’s eyes crinkled as his lips turned up into a smile. “You surprise me from time to time. What about your mother? You’d leave her without a word? Without a goodbye?”
Goosebumps trailed down Caleb’s neck, but he squared his shoulders and refused to turn around. If he looked at their house, he’d have regrets. “Yeah. I need to get the fuck out of here before I get stuck, just like her.”
“Well then. Let’s get gone.”
Caleb nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. His stomach turned into an impossibly complex knot, but if he thought about it too much he’d wimp out. He had to get away – he had to go. Peter was his mate, his future, and everything here held him back.
“Do you have a car?” he finally ventured as they turned away from the school.
“I do, but I haven’t needed it around your town. It’s parked over here.”
The young man nodded. Even Peter was leaving his things behind, that little overnight bag that held clothes and a few other possessions – all easily replaceable. He thought of his own bedroom, all the stuff he’d collected over the years. The baseball cap his father gave him, his grandpa’s watch – things that seemed to hold so much value when he was younger. But they didn’t. Material items weren’t people.
They didn’t love him, and he didn’t love them.
“I – thanks for doing this,” he mumbled as they neared the parking lot at the head of a hiking trail.
It was nestled next to the woods, and Peter turned and nodded. “I’d do just about anything for you,” he said,
as if he were talking about the weather.
Caleb’s heart stood still. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words sounded so stupid in his head. Looking at the werewolf, his skin tingled for the man’s touch, and his chest tightened until he felt sick.
“I–” he started, but Peter turned toward the trees, his coat flapping around him like the wings of a crow. The man cocked his head to the side, and squared his shoulders as a great gray wolf leapt from the woods, claws extended and fangs bared. It tumbled into Peter, snipping and scratching at the man’s face.
“Shit!” Caleb cried and stumbled back, tripping over his own feet. He fell to the ground so hard his teeth nearly shattered in his skull.
The wolf snapped at Peter’s arm as the man shifted into his animal form, his clothes falling away to shreds on the ground. The parking lot was secluded and it was early enough in the day that no one else was around – at the moment. What would happen if someone came by and found two wolves fighting?
Even worse, what if Peter lost?
The werewolves rolled across the ground and rose to their feet. Caleb hung his backpack over his arm and charged toward them. His physics book was huge – heavy enough to cause damage.
Once he was in range, he swung and caught the gray wolf in the side of the snout. It hardly flinched! Instead, it turned its razor sharp fangs toward him and leapt forward. Stumbling back, Caleb swung again and Peter, his left leg caked in blood, barreled into the wolf. They rolled again and slammed into the car, denting its side.
How strong were these monsters?
With startling speed, both wolves jumped back to their feet, but Peter favored his good leg, holding up his injured one like a dog with a thorn in its paw. The gray wolf growled, and Peter put his ears flat against his head.
The other wolf had the upper hand with Peter’s leg like that! Caleb couldn’t let this unknown wolf kill his future – his mate.
As the beasts lunged at each other for the third time, Caleb jumped in between them, swinging madly at the gray wolf.
