by Zoe Perdita
The little wolf leapt, and they both rolled across the floor in a flurry of claws and fur. The cabinet creaked as they slammed into it, and Caleb shifted back into a human, his hand closing around Wild’s neck.
His great chest heaved. Blood dripped freely down his sculpted arm, though he seemed not to notice. Its coppery scent stung the little wolf’s nose. Sharp fangs hung over the man’s bottom lip, and his eyes shone a brilliant blue, even in the bright kitchen light.
“Change back,” he growled.
Wild obeyed, and the man’s hand tightened as his neck shrunk back to its human size.
Sweat dripped down the man’s brow, and his slick body rubbed against the little wolf’s own, all hunger and rage. “Looks like I won, even with a handicap.”
Wild nodded, his breath hitched in his throat. “Yeah. You won.”
The man’s fingers kindled the fire in his veins, the dull throb between his legs growing every second. Glancing down, he noticed Caleb in the same predicament. The man couldn’t resist his animal side, even if he tried. It always clawed its way to the surface eventually.
The little wolf’s skin flushed and he stared into the white wolf’s eyes. The linoleum floor cooled the fever rising across his flesh, and he gasped for air as his mate studied him. What was he thinking? What was he going to do now that he won?
“Is this what you wanted?” Caleb grumbled through clenched teeth and his hand slipped off the little wolf’s neck.
Wild’s eyes widened. “I wanted to–”
“Piss me off? Wake the beast lurking inside?” His fingers burned as they scraped over Wild’s skin, groping the little wolf’s sensitive nipples until he writhed. Every pinch fanned the flame in his groin.
“You are a wolf, even if you’re a changeling,” Wild managed through his labored breath.
Ice blue eyes narrowed into slits. “You want me to claim you in anger? You want me to hurt you?”
The little wolf frowned and shook his head. “No! I want you to claim me like you should.”
The man’s face flushed and his hands tightened on Wild’s thighs, the muscles throbbing under his touch. His hair no longer fell neatly into place – it dangled over his brow, the tips brushing his eyebrows. Caleb’s chest heaved with every breath, and the little wolf was sure the entire world stood still for that moment – that decision.
Those powerful, calloused hands slid up Wild’s strong legs, the touch just shy of gentle. Fingers groped over his rounded ass, and the little wolf’s eyes widened. His mate tricked him before without actually giving in, but he couldn’t help the hope that swelled in his chest nonetheless.
A thick digit trailed across his taint, rubbing the tight hole with a slight caress. Wild took a deep breath, and silently urged his mate forward.
Lust danced across the white wolf’s eyes, and he licked his lips even as his jaw clenched. Then his mouth smashed against Wild’s, and the little wolf whimpered. A hot tongue darted inside his lips as he submitted to the kiss. Static electricity charged through every nerve in his body, the heat of his mate rising need throughout his whole being.
He couldn’t think.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t do anything but react to the man looming over him.
Teeth nipped at his lips, and Wild found his fingers digging into Caleb’s back. The muscles shifted under his palms, like a great beast walking. He didn’t remember wrapping his arms around his mate. Didn’t mean to whimper as the man pulled away, but it slipped out of his throat regardless.
The white wolf growled and yanked open the cupboard in one fluid movement, a line of bright red trickling down his left arm. He grumbled as he groped inside and pulled out a bottle of olive oil. His hands didn’t tremble in the least, his heart thumping a steady and regular beat, as he poured the pungent liquid over his palm. It glistened as he coated each finger.
Wild stared, and he wanted to say something, but everything he could think of seemed useless. Any question would just cement him as a whelp – and he wasn’t a damn whelp!
Caleb’s eyes burned when he turned them back to the little wolf. The icy gaze stabbed Wild right in the chest, but the hardness around the man’s lips softened, just a bit.
“Relax,” he growled and rolled Wild’s hips forward as he leaned down.
His hungry mouth teased the tip of the little wolf’s cock, lapping at it, while a lubed finger pressed inside. The combination of sudden pleasure and stretching pain blurred Wild’s vision, and he arched his back, groaning.
Then Caleb’s lips squeezed him, and a second digit joined the first. They swirled and scissored, poking and prodding until they rubbed against something that sent a wash of stars over the little wolf’s eyes.
“Ah,” he gasped, and it melted away into an inarticulate moan.
He writhed as a third finger slid into his ass. This was it – this was what being claimed was like. His entire body sang for release, but Caleb’s lips popped free of the little wolf’s length and his fingers slipped out of Wild’s entrance.
Something flashed across the white wolf’s eyes, and for a moment Wild feared he’d stop. But the man’s throbbing cock pressed into his stomach, a line of pre-come shimmering on the tip, and his muscles stood tense and urgent with desire.
The little wolf reached for the bottle of olive oil as Caleb’s hands faltered, and unscrewed the top. Then he poured a generous amount onto his mate’s shaft. It drizzled over the thick member, and Wild swallowed the lump in his throat.
Caleb stared at him. Then he gathered the little wolf into his powerful arms, pulling Wild onto his lap so they sat face to face, the young man balanced on his sculpted thighs. Sweat dripped down his back as the white wolf engulfed him in a kiss, and he grasped the man’s hair. Their chests pressed together, sweat slick, as Caleb’s thick head nudged inside, past the tight ring of fire, until it was buried to the hilt.
“Breathe,” Caleb said – his voice no longer a growl.
Wild nodded, and took a deep shuddering breath. Every nerve in his body burned, his skin tingling with a sensation unlike any he’d ever known. For the first time in his life, he was right where he belonged and nothing was going to ruin it.
“Thank you,” he said in a strained whimper and kissed his mate.
The white wolf’s lips welcomed him, and they rocked together, like a boat on a turbulent sea. Wild gasped, his fingers digging into Caleb’s back as the man’s musk consumed him.
If this is what it felt like, why did his mate want to wait?
This was right.
Perfect.
Exactly how it should be.
Their bodies collided. Friction grew between them. Goosebumps rose across his flesh, only to have the heat of the white wolf’s lips sizzle over them, melting anything that dared cool the moment. They were connected. Every sound, gasp and groan rose like a melody in the quiet house. The little wolf lapped at his mate’s neck, the skin salty and clean under his lips.
Fire consumed him. Raging from his groin through all the veins in his body. It surged to his toes and the tips of his fingers. It pooled in his chest until Wild was sure he’d burn up from the overwhelming heat.
Caleb grasped the little wolf’s eager member right as the pleasure threatened to shove him over the edge.
“Not yet,” the man breathed.
The little wolf writhed and rocked, every pounding thrust thundering through his body and soul until he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Please,” he begged.
Then the man loosened his grip and the heat of both their peaks crashed into him at once. Wild trembled and moaned, leaning into his mate like a limp rag doll as the waves of the orgasm washed over him – each one the perfect place to drown.
The white wolf’s muscles tensed, his hands grasping Wild’s hips like he’d never let go as he came. The warmth of his semen filled the little wolf – the cementing of their bond. The man couldn’t take it back now. He could no longer deny the truth.
After that, whatever Caleb felt for him didn’t matter.
Love or not, they were mates now. Forever.
Chapter 12
Wild grinned. In fact, he hadn’t stopped grinning for the past twenty-four hours. Whatever the white wolf expected to happen hadn’t – at least not yet. He moved his shoulder and glanced out at the sunny yard. The bacon sizzled on the pan, and the whelp hummed an old Bob Dylan song while he mixed the pancake batter. They usually listened to classic rock while they worked, but Caleb wondered if Wild understood what the song meant.
Times were changing, indeed.
What the hell had he done the day before? For a moment, it was like the wolf inside him took over. Every time he touched Wild’s body, his fingers ignited with lust. Looking at the whelp sprawled on the kitchen floor with his sculpted chest heaving, made it impossible to resist. Then Wild touched him and clarity sharpened everything.
This was his mate.
No matter how much he pushed the little wolf away, Wild would always come back. If Caleb claimed him then, or ten years in the future, it didn’t change that fact.
So he’d done it, and now he had to live with the consequences – if there were any.
“How’s your arm?” Wild asked, and the white wolf glanced down.
“Better. Still sore, but in a few more days it shouldn’t bother me much.”
The whelp smiled and handed him the batter. Wild was getting better at working around the kitchen. Like everything else, he’d been receptive to learning how to cook. Damn, Caleb shouldn’t think of the little wolf being receptive at all.
“I’ll water the garden while those cook,” he said and planted a kiss on the man’s cheek.
His eyes lingered on the white wolf for a moment, then he trotted out the door. Sunlight fell across his bare chest and his skin shone golden in the morning light. He was probably waiting for Caleb to say the ‘L’ word – the words he’d only said to three other people in his whole life, and two of them were his parents.
But Peter was a different kind of love – the wrong kind – and hopefully what Wild felt for him wasn’t anything like that.
The sweats hung off Wild’s slender hips, almost revealing the little wolf’s taut ass every time he bent over. Caleb kept his eyes on the woods around his mate, his hackles standing on edge, and tried to tell himself the hunter couldn’t have followed them home.
He almost believed it.
Wild came back in without incident, and he even washed his hands before he sat. “I think the peas are ready. They smelled ripe.”
Caleb nodded as he set the plates on the table. “We can pick them later today. We’ve got a dresser to finish, then we need to come up with a plan for the hunters.”
The whelp piled half the bacon on his plate, followed by half the pancakes. “We? You want to help? But it’s not your fault they’re here.”
He stared at Wild, the little wolf’s green eyes wide. “Are you actually surprised? We’re mates. It’s what mates do, right?” Caleb’s chest twisted as he said it, but the other words lay hidden deep inside him somewhere. How long would it take to admit that to the little wolf?
Wild shrugged. “I’ve never had a mate before. But I’m not letting you get hurt. We have to kill them and–”
“Have you ever killed anyone before?”
The little wolf blanched and shoved a whole pancake in his mouth, chewing and grumbling as he did. “No,” he finally admitted, “but we have to get rid of them somehow. They tried to kill us.”
“Look. I don’t like hunters anymore than you do, but that’s a can of worms even I don’t want to open. We’ve got to stop them though, I’ll give you that.” What the hell was he saying? If the hunters laid a hand on Wild, he’d rip them limb from bloody limb. But the thought of the little wolf doing the same formed a pit in his stomach. He didn’t want to end up like Peter, but they may not have a choice. The hunters had to be stopped, no matter what.
The little wolf nodded, his brow furrowed. “Fine. But we might have to kill them if we can’t force them to stop. It’s the way wolves are.”
And he probably would. Caleb tried to remember the whelp he rescued from the trap, but it seemed like ages ago. A whole lifetime since they first met, though it’d only been about two months. Wild had been determined then, if a bit rough around the edges, and he’d learned so much he was almost like a completely different person on the surface. At the core, he was the same wolf that sent a spark through Caleb’s body. A jolt from his groin to his heart – just what he needed. How did the universe know?
“We might, but I’m going to help you no matter what. This is our territory to protect.”
Wild grinned like the waxing crescent moon. “It is. And those nasty hunters made a mistake by coming here.”
They sure as hell did.
After breakfast, they went to the woodshop. Wild carved a design into the front of the maple drawers while Caleb put the dresser’s body together. When he glanced over, he noticed the fine petals and thick stems of poppies, and he smiled. The little wolf improved everyday, his designs getting more and more intricate.
As the little wolf blew the dust and wood shavings away, he suddenly sat up straight – round eyes wide. “They move around!”
The white wolf almost dropped the nail clutched in his fingers at Wild’s outburst. “What?”
“The hunters move around every night. They never stay in the same place twice – that’s why we couldn’t find their camp after all this time. They’re always moving around. I did it too when I lived in the woods.”
Caleb hammered the nail in place and nodded. It made sense, and it was so simple it was a wonder they hadn’t thought of it sooner. He’d moved around frequently after he’d been changed, but he didn’t consider the hunters might be doing the same thing. Damn! He’d been complacent for too long. “If they’re always moving, we should be able to track them with that cloth, although it might take a few days.”
Wild smiled, showing his fangs, white and straight. “And if we can track them we can use their own tricks against them, but we need some way to lure them out.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow and set the hammer on his workbench. “Well? How are we going to do that?” he asked, and listened to the little wolf’s plan. It was a good idea. Not perfect. It still held risk – to them – but hopefully no one would lose their life.
Then his eyes trailed over Wild’s stubble and the curve of his lips.
Scratch that. He wouldn’t let those hunters lay a finger on his mate. If they did, murder be damned.
Sam would probably want to know, but how necessary was it to let him help? The Eurasians would hate both him and Wild no matter what they did – or maybe he wasn’t giving the Russians enough credit.
“Do you want to tell the valley pack?” he asked.
Wild’s grip on his palm tool tightened. “Do you think we’d need their help?”
The white wolf sighed. The only hunter he’d ever met was a formidable opponent, but if they had the upper hand – “Probably. I hate to say it, and I hate to ask even more, but with two hunters, we’ll need the advantage on our side.”
“I’ll call Sam,” Wild said through gritted teeth.
Caleb closed his gaping mouth and stared. “You will?”
The little wolf nodded and wiped his hands on his pants, leaving a smudge of sawdust behind. “He agreed to help me, so I should be the one to call him. Is his number in your phone?”
The corner of Caleb’s lip twitched. How had he ever thought the whelp was like him? “It is.”
Wild took the cell phone and stepped outside into the yard and away from the workshop. When he came back in about twenty minutes later, his hair stood on end, as if he’d run his fingers through it several times.
“Well?”
“He agreed, and said he’d talk to his pack about it,” he said and set his lips into a thin line.
>
The white wolf opened his mouth. The words choked him, and he cleared his throat. “Good job,” he muttered instead. “When did you want to start?”
Wild lowered both his eyebrows and pouted. “Now.”
The white wolf set the last trap in place, covering it with a thick layer of pine needles. They’d used all the evidence they’d gathered so far – bolts, the hunter’s blood and bits of cloth, to determine where they stayed. Once they found the hunter’s trail it was simple to follow, even if the hunters were always one step ahead.
They always stayed so far out of both pack’s territory that the wolves didn’t even notice their presence. Now that they were wise to the hunter’s secrets, they had the upper hand – at least Caleb hoped that was the case.
He made his way back toward his mate and crouched in the bushes next to him. Sam and the Eurasian pack were at the second ambush spot. If everything went according to plan, they’d be finished with the hunters before the day was out.
Or the hunters would be finished with them.
A shiver chilled his spine at the thought, and a magpie sang in the tree above their head. They’d laid a trail for the hunters, not an overly obvious trail – one that tapered off from time to time so it looked authentic. Once the men found it, they’d have to follow, and it would lead them straight here.
Wild smiled at him, though it wasn’t the same careless grin as before. This smile was tight and somewhat strained.
“I should get into position too,” he whispered.
Caleb stared at his mate’s eyes and the thick fringe of dark lashes surrounding them. He took the little wolf’s chin in his hands and pulled it toward him, pressing their lips together. Wild’s fingers dug into the white wolf’s thighs, and his pink tongue darted out as Caleb pulled away.
“It took you long enough to do that,” the little wolf said, his cheeks flushed.
“You’re right, Whe—” That wasn’t fair. Wild wasn’t a whelp, not anymore. “Wild.”
