by Fel Fern
Only a fool would want to cross this man, but all Joey could think about was how he wanted to climb Lance like a tree, to reacquaint himself with Lance’s body. For Lance to take his lips, remind him who he belonged to.
“I have to hand it to you, little wolf. You have the guts to show your face in front of me after all these years,” Lance said, words accompanied with a growl.
Just like that, the delusion he conjured about how their reunion would go disappeared. The Lance he’d known had always been in control. The stranger in front of him looked ready to rip his throat out. So many unsaid words stood between them.
I missed you.
I kept thinking of you all these years.
I wish I had the guts to approach you earlier.
“It’s good to see you, too,” he said, nearly choking on his words.
Lance narrowed his gaze. “You want a piece of me, little wolf? Then a piece you’ll have.”
Then the Beta dropped his pants, and before Joey could admire the massive cock between Lance’s legs, the Beta shifted. He swore and began fumbling for his clothes. The crowd started to make bets against him. Joey hardly heard them. In seconds, Lance’s gold pelted wolf tore from his skin. Joey finally kicked off his shoes and reached for his beast.
Shit. He should have listened to Freida. Of course the years would have changed Lance. He couldn’t see anything of the man he once knew. Rumors said the Beta of the Devil Hills pack was collected, the voice of reason, and yet all he’d seen was white-hot anger from Lance.
Fur covered his chest and shoulders. Bones shifted and organs rearranged themselves. Then it struck Joey that Lance didn’t go after him immediately despite completing the shift first. Relief washed over him, but it was momentary. Once he hit all four paws, Lance went for him, fangs flashing and murder in his eyes.
Chapter Three
Joey dodged, or tried to, but for a big bastard, Lance moved incredibly fast. He’d nearly forgotten what a formidable warrior Lance could be. Lance pounced on him, making Joey taste the dirt. They tangled on the ground, but the fight ended as soon as it could start. Lance was bigger, stronger. The Beta landed Joey flat on his back, fangs on his throat.
Shock reverberated through him as Lance scraped his teeth against his fur, drawing blood. A warning, Joey realized. Fur receded and every bone in his body froze as Lance traded forms. Even in human form, the Beta of the Devil Hills pack was lethal.
Joey stared at Lance’s muscular frame, remembering the last time they’d been together, Lance had been incredibly gentle in bed. During that rare intimate moment, Joey had allowed himself to let all his guards down, to give into what his heart was telling him. He’s the one. Ours. That was what his wolf told him the night Lance took him to bed.
The image of the past shattered. Joey chose to leave the Black Claws pack house with Freida, considered returning several times but never had the guts to even do that. By the time he heard Lance was alive and had become the Beta of the Devil Hills pack, he could have found his way to Lance right away. Instead, he waited, too cowardly to act until it was too late.
Lance curled one hand around his throat, squeezing but not choking him, bringing Joey back to harsh reality.
Then the Beta snarled into his face. Looking into Lance’s fully amber eyes, he realized what a fool he’d been. Werewolves changed eye color when intense emotions rode them. To him, Lance had always seemed put together, incapable of losing his temper, but years could change a man. I did this to him.
“Don’t kill him, Lance. Please!”
Joey craned his head, terrified as Freida nearly bolted into the challenge circle, but Ariel pushed at her legs, snarling at her in warning because a dominant wolf in the throes of bloodlust sometimes only saw his opponent.
“You brought your sister here?” Lance asked him, shaking his head, pupils more blue than yellow now. Joey couldn’t stand the judgement in Lance’s eyes, wanted to explain himself. It was no use, though, because Lance didn’t look like he’d listen. “You’re not a warrior, little wolf, only a skilled liar. Get out of my lands.”
Stung by those words, Joey whined as Lance got off him. Lance cursing him would have been preferable to Lance simply walking away, turning his back on him as if Joey wasn’t a threat. Joey knew that, too, and it sucked.
He closed his eyes for a moment, knew the other challengers there might see him and his sister as prey. Dominant werewolves didn’t like to lose, and he’d already seen the hardness and cruelty in some of the men and women there who lost badly to the enforcers of the Devil Hills wolves.
It was only natural that once this competition was over, they’d turn on each other on the road. Shifters with nothing to lose resorted to desperate measures. Joey was the best example. He shouldn’t have brought Freida here, both Santino and Lance told him that well enough, but neither males understood what it was like being hunted all the time.
Shit. What was he thinking, waltzing in here and hoping Lance might turn a little sentimental and soft because they shared a past?
Clearly, the man he knew—who made tender love to him all those years ago and told him he wasn’t just pretty distraction but something more—was gone, replaced by this cold-eyed Beta. Maybe Lance wanted to forget about his past.
Why wouldn’t he? Lance had a good thing going here, was second to the most powerful Alpha and pack in the country. Why would he want to be involved with a screw-up like Joey? Joey could hardly protect his sister. God knew he did his best.
He was so tired, too, exhausted from always watching their backs, of being frightened all the time. His wolf remained on guard, watching the challengers intently and would warn Joey if any of them made a move.
Moments later, Freida came sprinting at him, kneeling by his side.
“Brother, are you all right?” she whispered, touching the blood on his fur.
Joey refused to change back to human form, because in wolf form, he’d have claws and teeth at least. Joey opened his eyes and saw the hungry looking men and women standing at the edges of the circle. These werewolves were dangerous.
Unlike the disciplined, hard-eyed men and women of the Devil Hills wolf packs, these rogues wouldn’t hesitate to teach a couple of lost runts their place. He knew they wouldn’t last long if a dominant shifter decided Freida and he were prey.
“There’s a healer nearby if you need him,” said a new female voice.
“Thank—” Freida began, then turned pale.
Joey followed her gaze and understood her reaction. His wolf whined inside him, warning him of the presence of another dangerous predator.
“Can you stand?” asked the woman with the white-gold hair and same eerie silver eyes.
What was the Ghost doing here? Joey wondered. He realized her dominant wolf felt in some ways similar to Santino’s, but somehow more contained, but Joey knew better than to underestimate her.
Joey refused to let her help, so he stood on his wobbly four paws. Lance only landed one scratch on him. It didn’t even hurt, but it must have looked worse.
“He’s always been so stubborn,” Freida grumbled to Sabine, who held a flicker of amusement in her eyes. Freida scooped his discarded clothing on the ground.
“This way,” Sabine said.
Joey padded close to Freida. With the Ghost accompanying them, the challengers only gave Joey glares. For now, Freida and he were safe, but how much longer? A hawk screeched at them from one of the trees and Sabine nodded to the hawk shifter, small smile on her lips. Joey would have considered her beautiful if he were straight, but like Santino, he knew that same beauty could cut like a knife.
She brought them to a small clearing with a tent. His hackles rose, seeing three other werewolves in human form, all carrying guns. The Devil Hills wolves didn’t just have the numbers or training, but they were also equipped with state-of-the-art military-grade weapons—a deadly combination.
The tent flap opened, and Freida clutched at his fur in warning. Seeing Santino, he ten
sed, but remembered this was the same man who told Ariel to guard Freida during his duel.
“What is he still doing here?” Santino asked Sabine, narrowing his gaze at her.
“He’s wounded.”
Santino chuckled. “We both know it’s a scratch. Answer the question, sister.”
“I need to talk to the Beta and Deacon. Let them rest in the healer’s tent for a little bit.”
“I’m not letting strangers near my mate,” Santino said, baring his teeth. “Especially not this one.” Santino glowered at him, warning in his eyes. “You mess with our Beta, you make an enemy of all of us, you understand? My sister showed you kindness, but don’t mistake that for weakness. Hurt Lance and we’ll make sure to dig you a grave no one will ever find.”
A shiver crawled down his spine at those words, because he heard the truth in them. He finally understood why Santino had been nicknamed the Devil. With both of those strange silver gazes on him, he felt exposed. Freida gripped at his fur so hard she tore out some of it. Freida looked ready to run away.
He flattened his ears at that, but Joey deserved the distrust. These two might not know the history between Lance and him, but nonetheless, they and every wolf in the Devil Hills pack were rightfully protective of their Beta. A slender blond-haired man with green eyes appeared by Santino’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Baby, I’m the standby healer. Stop blocking the entrance and let me see to the injured werewolf,” the healer said in a firm voice.
Joey supposed it took a certain kind of courage to be mated to a man like Santino.
“I’ll leave them in your hands,” Sabine told him.
“Ariel told me how the fight went. Why are we keeping them here?” Santino asked.
A good question, Joey thought warily.
“I can’t recall the last time Lance lost control like that, but he remembered himself at the last moment. These two are important to him.”
Both Sabine and Santino looked at each other silently for a long moment, like they were having some kind of staring contest. Then the healer nudged Santino aside and walked up to Joey.
“I’m Zack, one of the pack’s healers and that snarly werewolf’s mate,” Zack said.
Freida giggled at that. She looked relaxed around Zack. “I’m Freida, that’s my big brother Joey.”
Zack went on one knee and studied his throat.
When he fidgeted, Zack said, “Joey, stay still while I examine the wound.”
Joey nearly forgot how bossy healers could be, but he felt warm energy from Zack’s hand a moment later. The wound faded to a thin line, like it was weeks old. When he returned his attention to the silver-eyed siblings, Sabine was nowhere to be found. Santino spoke to one of the werewolves stationed there, but Joey knew he kept a close eye on them and Zack.
“You look tired. Why don’t you come inside and rest on one of the beds?” Zack told Freida. “I have some sandwiches and coffee, too.”
“We’re not strays,” Joey said after shifting back to human. He decided, for whatever reason, Santino and Sabine bought him and his sister time. Joey never said no to an opportunity like that, and his wolf quieted inside him. Safe, his wolf thought, and it had been so long since he felt that.
“I didn’t say you were,” Zack said, sounding a little annoyed. “Look, your sister looks close to fainting. Let’s get her to sit down. I have some spare clothes inside that will fit you, too.”
Chastised by the healer, Freida and he followed Zack inside the spacious looking tent. He was surprised to see it fully equipped with medical supplies. Something about Zack bothered him. Zack rummaged for clothes in a duffel bag and handed them to him.
Joey put on the jogging pants and shirt, which were slightly big on him, but it was better than nothing. Zack also gave Freida a plastic baggie to keep his other clothes and personal belongings in.
His stomach rumbled and Zack flashed him a smile. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” he admitted. Freida took a seat on one of the beds, and he did the same.
Freida gave him a warning look. He didn’t have to be a mind-reader to understand that he should be nice to the healer.
“You’re not a werewolf,” he blurted as Zack handed him and Freida what looked like homemade ham and cheese sandwiches. Freida groaned, probably because he was being his usual blunt self.
“I’m a bobcat shifter actually,” Zack answered, not looking offended at all.
“You’re mated to the Devil,” Freida said, sounding awed.
Zack shrugged. “Santino’s not easy to understand, but once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s actually a caring and protective guy underneath.”
He snorted. “Didn’t you hear him make that threat?”
Zack gritted his teeth, turning defensive. “I’ll do anything to protect a fellow packmate, too, and Lance is a good friend.”
Joey shut up at that and looked at his sandwich, no longer feeling hungry. He didn’t know why he told a complete stranger the truth. “The last thing I want to do is hurt Lance.”
“Then why did you come here? Joey, even the dominant wolves in the pack keep the submissive members away from the challenge circle for a reason. When dominant shifters are riled up, bloodlust sometimes takes over and they’ll see any weaker shifter as prey.”
Joey ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know that,” he snapped. “I’ve already been reprimanded by Lance and Santino for bringing my sister here, but we had no choice.”
Zack narrowed his eyes and sat next to him. “What do you mean?”
Freida bit her bottom lip. “It’s okay, brother. Tell him.”
“We came here out of desperation, because the Discipline Squad recently became aggressive in rounding up shifters. No one knows why. Freida and I have no family, no pack to fall back on. We’re their ideal targets. We both knew Lance in the past and hoped—” Joey couldn’t continue, because in revealing his plans to Zack, it dawned on him how foolish it sounded.
Zack clasped his shoulder, the healer’s touch comforting. What looked like understanding passed through Zack’s eyes. “I get it now, I think.”
“You have no idea what we’ve gone through,” he said, angry.
Shit. Joey always felt angry these days, pissed he couldn’t be stronger for his sister. He hated feeling helpless all the time, kept thinking of all those years ago then Lance told him they could be so much more. Joey wondered if his old naive self had brushed aside Lance’s words so easily because he didn’t think a powerful werewolf like Lance would show interest in a runt like him.
Maybe he misread the situation all those years ago and, as a result, lived the last few years with regret. When the shock of seeing Lance again subsided, he realized how much he missed Lance. His heart and his wolf always knew what it wanted, but Joey never had the courage to go for it.
“I do understand,” Zack said slowly, as if considering his next words carefully. “The Discipline Squad massacred my entire paranormal community. I took the survivors and lied to Santino and the Alpha so we could take refuge here.”
Both Freida and he widened their eyes in surprise. Zack was even more gutsy than he thought. A shifter healer wasn’t a submissive or a dominant, and yet Zack managed to take an entire group of people and lead them here.
Hope flared inside of him. Santino gave Zack a chance. Could Lance do the same? But Zack hadn’t lied to his mate all these years. Mate. The word stunned him, and yet every fiber of his being told him it was true. Did Lance know? Was that why Lance had been intent on explaining himself all those years ago?
Feeling slightly dizzy with the revelation, he lay on the bed, putting a hand over his eyes. Fool, he thought. God. Could he still make things right with the man he loved?
“Why don’t you and Freida rest here for a little while? I bet it’s been awhile since you guys had a proper sleep,” Zack said.
“You know what? I think we’ll do just that,” he replied.
Chapter Four
“That’s what? Half of the challengers?” Deacon asked Lance as they both watched the fight below.
Forrest, their youngest enforcer, easily pounced on the big, grizzled, mottled grey werewolf, fangs to the challenger’s throat. The challenge whimpered, an acknowledgement of defeat. Forrest pulled away, only for the shifter to attack him again. Deacon grunted in disapproval, but Forrest expected the dirty move and put the bastard back on the dirt.
“You and Sabine taught Forrest well,” Lance remarked and approved of Forrest ripping out the werewolf’s throat. The move was a reminder to the remaining hopefuls that breaking the rules of the challenge had severe consequences.
“I’ve received disturbing news from the hawks that the Discipline Squad has grown persistent in gathering shifters, Espers, and other paranormals on the road. Not killing them on sight as usual, but capturing them. We’ll discuss this during our next inner circle meeting,” Deacon said.
Lance frowned at the news, wondered if that might be the reason why Joey and his sister were here. Fuck. Lance was letting his heart, not his brain, do the thinking. Didn’t he settle the issue with Joey earlier?
“So,” Deacon finally said, taking his black gaze from the scene below to regard him. “What was that fight about?”
“What fight are you talking about?” Oh, Lance knew Deacon was asking about Joey, but he wasn’t in the mood to share right now. He needed to let off some steam, to run.
Facing Joey in the circle still pissed him off. Joey knew Lance’s one weakness was him, probably anticipated the fact Lance would never hurt him, not seriously. Joey had been right. Lance made sure the injury looked bloody and awful enough, but it hadn’t been a severe blow. Any enforcer in the pack, hell, any experienced senior soldier knew he held himself back for Joey.
“Hmm, defensive,” Deacon remarked. “This wolf must have really gotten under your skin, huh?”
In another time, Deacon would have never made that comment.
During their first year working together, Lance clashed with Deacon far too many times to count, but the Alpha chose him as Beta for that reason. Deacon needed him as much as he needed to put trust in an Alpha strong enough to lead and keep his people and those who fell under his protection safe.
