by Owner
Morgan’s hands were on him now, keeping him steady. The other man tore the furry blanket from the bed and eased him onto the mattress. Terry was nearly hysterical by now, and he fisted his hair, the pain keeping him here and human before he could let his wolf out again, even by accident.
Morgan’s hands were on his cheeks. “What did you hear?”
So he knew Terry had heard something to do this to him. The man
was smart.
Terry sniffled, and as he opened his mouth to tell him the horrible things he’d heard, he crumpled and started to cry.
Morgan hugged him, like he was some kind of little kid who needed to be comforted before they could relax. Terry hated that he was so weak that he couldn’t even let his mate know what was going on without crying about it, but he found himself relaxing into Morgan’s arms, regardless. He released the painful grip he had on his hair and held the other man back, clutching him for dear life as Morgan rubbed his back and shushed him.
“I…I don’t know…what made me go wild again,” Terry said between gasps of air. Morgan flinched, but Terry continued. “But I scented some of my friends. I went to…find them. I don’t know why I
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thought they were still alive but…”
“It’s okay. Our wolves, when we’re not in sync with them, they think differently than we do. There’s no telling why that happened to you.”
“They’re dead though. I didn’t understand it when I heard them talking, but now I do. Those men, they really are hunters. They’re the hunters who attacked my pack!” Terry said, the realization sending a spear of terror through him.
Morgan kept right on petting him and making soothing noises, like he was a frightened puppy. “Okay, I believe you. Try to be calm now.”
“They had three pelts with them. I could smell them. I knew them. They were talking about selling some of them to afford a place to stay for the winter.”
Morgan’s neck clenched up, and he cursed before getting off the
bed.
Their sudden separation from each other worried Terry.
“Where―”
“I’m going to tell Nick this. Now that we know for a fact they’re hunters, our kind of hunters, this isn’t just a precaution anymore. I’ll be right back.”
Terry lay as still and as quiet as he could, hearing the muffled voices coming from downstairs as Morgan explained the situation to that other werewolf. True to his word, he came back quickly.
“We’re definitely getting up before dawn tomorrow. Hunters tend to come out at around that time, so it’s best if we’re up and running before they are.”
Terry didn’t say anything. All he could think about was how close he’d come to the pelts, the skins, of his dead friends. He really hoped those two hunters hadn’t been using them for covers when they were having sex.
Terry had calmed down enough that he almost didn’t notice when Morgan came up and gently ran his fingers through his hair.
“Your wolf must have some superior senses for you to have been
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able to scent those…your friends, all the way over there from right here. Even Nick can’t pick anything up on them. Or the hunters from this distance.”
Terry looked at him. “Really?”
Morgan nodded.
Terry had never thought about his sense of smell or hearing before. He was an omega, so it wasn’t like there was any reason for him to get into a competition with the alphas over who had the better anything. “Why are my senses so good?”
Morgan shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe it was the time you spend by yourself in the wild. Being so in tune with your animal side might have that effect since you would’ve had to rely on them so much. Nick’s senses improved after he went blind and had to learn how to hunt for himself.”
Terry’s eyes widened. “He’s blind?”
“Yes.”
“How will he keep watch?”
“He’s very skilled at what he does. Don’t you worry, but I will have to go down there and take his place after a while so he can have a chance to sleep.”
Terry didn’t know how he was going to sleep at all after what had just happened. “You’re staying here with me though, right?”
Morgan was already climbing into bed with him. “Of course.”
Because Morgan had to toss away the blanket with all the fur on it, they snuggled together under the sheets of the bed, using body heat for warmth, which was something Terry much rather preferred. While he did stay wide awake, afraid and in no mood for sleep for the next several minutes, the deep and easy breathing of the man spooned up behind him lulled until he finally went under, too, but all he saw in his dreams were the twisted faces of his friends, their wolves crying out, struggling and screaming as they were skinned alive.
Those hunters wanted to do all that and more to Morgan, Nick, and Terry.
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Chapter Nine
Morgan felt like he hadn’t slept at all when Nick softly took him by the shoulder and shook him awake. Grudgingly, he got out of the warm space beside his mate, careful not to wake the other man as he finally seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and then went downstairs to do his time while Nick caught a few z’s.
He found that the ice-cold water from the kitchen tap splashed against his face was a good way to wake up, and it helped, but it was still torture watching the clock and keeping his nose and ears open for any possible coming attack.
How in the hell Nick did this was baffling. Morgan was going to have to ask him how he was able to tell how much time had passed without one of those clocks for the visually impaired, too.
Because it was winter, dawn didn’t come until much later in the morning now, but when five o’clock rolled around and the snow finally showed signs of stopping, he still went and obediently woke up Nick from where he slept in the other bedroom. Then he went and shook Terry awake.
“Come on, it’s time to go.”
Terry’s eyes were swollen with sleep, and his face was miserable with having to get up, but he rose from bed right away.
Getting back to the pack with their lives intact was always more important than sleep.
They ate the last of the rice they cooked and tidied up as quickly as possible, though Morgan was pretty sure the owner would be aware that someone had stayed here, especially because of the broken door. There was nothing that could be done about that now, and when five-
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thirty came, they were trudging barefoot out into the snow.
The dark morning sky was clear. The stars were still out. Morgan
checked the trail that he and Terry had traveled on.
Nick’s tracks had vanished from the snow, but there was still
something left of Terry’s and Morgan’s.
“There’s no telling when they’ll wake up. The second they do and they see those tracks, they’ll start gunning it back here,” Morgan said.
Terry shivered.
Nick looked at the new addition to their group. “If you transform, will you be able to keep control of your wolf?”
The uncertainty on Terry’s face was answer enough.
“Your wolf will listen to me,” Morgan assured him. “He did last night. He’ll follow us back to our pack. Everything will be fine.”
Terry thought about that for a few seconds, and seemed to come to a decision before he nodded his head and handed control over to his
wolf.
It was a gray wolf, now that Morgan bothered to look at him and take note of the type. He was small, smaller than Morgan and Nick, about the size of a regular wolf.
Terry cocked his head up at them after he finished shaking out his coat, as though asking what they were doing standing around.
“Right, let’s get out of here,” Morgan said, allowing the shift to come over him.
The change from two legged to four was always something he enjoyed. It felt like he was
getting his vertebrae popped and stretched in that pleasant way that he liked as his bones rearranged themselves. The cold hadn’t been bothering him too much, but now that he had a fur coat to protect himself with, as well as the thick padding under his paws, he was more than warm enough to take on the rest of their trip.
He shook out the loose hairs from his coat just as Terry did, and when Nick was on all fours, he did the same.
They were going to have to rely entirely on body language for this last trip back to their pack, but that was all right. It wasn’t like there
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would be much to say so long as they stayed out of sight of hunters.
Morgan yipped, giving the signal to Nick, and he tore off through the snow, heading for home.
* * * *
The tracks were faded thanks to the heavy snowfall that only let up less than an hour ago, but it was obvious to Tatum what animal they belonged to.
He opened up the second tent, the smell of sex wafting out, but that only angered him more.
The two men were fully clothed inside and tucked within their separate sleeping bags, but it was pretty obvious to Tatum what they’d been doing to distract them from keeping watch last night like they were supposed to. Tatum kicked Anthony in the side, the jostle and curse of the other man waking up Storm.
“Get your asses out here, the both of you!” he yelled, then went back out to stand in front of the tracks. He only had to wait maybe twenty seconds before they showed up and he could point down at the tracks.
“What the fucking hell do you think those are?”
Anthony looked down at them curiously, but it was Storm who
answered. “Wolf tracks.”
That made Anthony tense up. “No way did a werewolf come here without us knowing it.”
“You think this is just a coincidence, you faggot?” Tatum sneered.
Anthony snarled back at him. Storm had to put a hand on his shoulder.
“Tony, don’t.”
Ugh, Tatum had to turn away. He should’ve known better than to bring these two in, but how could he have known they were like that when he brought them onto his team? Storm sometimes looked like he could barely tolerate Anthony at all.
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And what kind of stupid-ass name was Storm for a man anyway?
Fucking hippies.
“Chance! Wake your ass up! Right now! We’re heading out!”
Tatum ran to the shrubs where he’d hidden their Ski-Doos, and he
breathed a deep sigh when he found them still intact. Not a scratch on them. He turned one of them on and listened to the sputter and vroom of the engine as it came to life.
They weren’t exactly brand new, but they were fast and did the job during the winter hunts.
Chance came out of the tent he’d been sharing with Tatum, rubbing his eyes and holding onto his sleeping bag like it was a baby blanket or something. “What’s going on?”
“There are tracks. We’re going to follow them,” Anthony answered for him.
Chance’s eyes widened. “Tracks? Here?”
“Yes, here,” Tatum snapped, sending one last hateful look toward the two love birds. “Pack your shit up. We’re following them and seeing where they lead us.”
“The sun is barely up!” Chance whined.
Tatum pulled the Glock he carried in his holster and pointed it at the kid’s head, which was harder to do than it sounded just because of all the layers he was wearing.
Chance put his hands up and backed up a step. “Right now then. Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Tatum put the gun away and started packing up their
tents.
* * * *
Tony glared at Storm when Tatum was out of ear shot. He’d told that man that he hated being called Anthony, but their leader seemed to insist on it, especially now that he was under the impression that Tony had failed in some way.
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“You were supposed to be keeping your nose up in case you smelled anything coming,” he seethed.
Storm wouldn’t look at him. He just continued stuffing the tent into the holder with the rest of the poles and ropes. “A little hard for me to scent anything with your dick in my mouth.”
Tony wanted to punch him. He also wanted to throw the man down and fuck him right there where Tatum and Chance could see. It might even be good for Chance to see since Tony was almost a hundred percent certain that the kid swung that way.
And was a virgin. Watching how it was done might finally get him to man up a little.
“Watch your mouth,” Tony sneered, though even after last night, he was still watching Storm’s mouth with particular interest. “I could let it slip any time I want about what you are.”
“I know,” Storm answered, as though the threat hardly bothered him at all.
Again, Tony felt the urge to throw him down and plunder him. He wanted to take his mouth, his ass, his everything.
Maybe he was only so sexually attracted to Storm because of what the other man was. The whole forbidden fruit thing. Tony had hunted Storm’s species all his life, and now that he had one, one that was alive instead of just a skin on his wall, that was, he felt like he owned the world.
To have a werecat for a companion, whether the were in question liked it or not, was just too good for him to throw away by just killing the man outright, especially when Storm gave such good head.
He liked it. Storm didn’t want to admit it, but he liked it. Maybe that was another reason why Tony kept him alive.
He grabbed Storm by that perfectly straight and tight ponytail of his and yanked his face closer until they were kissing. Storm wasn’t worried that Tony would have him killed because he knew that Tony was whipped. Tony would never kill this man. Storm belonged to him, and he would make sure that they remained together.
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They both stood when they finished packing their things some five minutes later, though Tatum was yelling at them to get a move
on.
A hunter had to be able to move quickly or they would never catch their prey.
“Hurry up! We’re losing time here!”
The sun wasn’t exactly close to appearing yet, not with the way winter time worked, but the stars were fading, and they were falling behind.
Tatum and Chance took the one Ski-Doo while Tony and Storm rode on the other. Because weres were shit at riding things like this, Tony made sure that he was in the driver’s seat while Storm held onto him from behind.
He couldn’t wait to find whatever it was that had come into their
camp. If it was nothing, good, they could come back here and regroup, and maybe Tony would be able to take Storm again. If it really was a werewolf wandering around in that kind of weather, then he would skin the stupid bastard, and then take Storm because a victory fuck was always the best.
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Chapter Ten
Even with the sky clear, the wind still, and no snow to hinder them, it was a complete pain in the ass traveling like this. The snow went up to Morgan’s chest, and he was pretty big for a wolf. He considered himself to be, at any rate. Still, he had to make the odd jump here and there from where the snow hindered him or was too hard for him to press through.
It would have been so much easier if it had been a dry snow, but no, it was sticky, which meant that every five steps he managed to take, the snow stuck together so much and so hard that he couldn’t take another step, and he would have to jump over.
Every once in a while he let out a yip. Nick and Terry dutifully yipped behind him, no sounds of tired whines in their replies. They were still there, and they were still doing just fine.
They also had another two and a half hours of traveling ahead of them, at best.
At least they were far enough away that those hunters wouldn’t catch up to them when they woke up to find the tracks.
* * * *
Tatum fo
llowed those tracks all the way back to that house they’d been at the day before. It was difficult to identify tracks that wind and snow had mostly erased, but the fact that they went right up the porch to the cabin, and all the way to the door, was a concern.
Anthony rode in from another path. “Storm found signs of an animal coming in from this direction, too.”
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Could these people have owned dogs? He hadn’t seen any, but he didn’t want to rule it out just yet.
He got up from his seat, leaving Chance alone on Ski-Doo, waiting for him, and walked toward the door. He would knock and ask if the owner had seen any wolves around.
Just in case. If it had been dogs, and Storm was wrong, then it would be logical that the dogs had caught the scent of one of these idiots and followed them back to camp.
He stopped when he made it to the door. The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon, but there was more than enough light for him to see the way the door frame was splintered by the handle.
“What is it, Tatum?” Chance called.
Tatum pushed against the door. It took only a little effort, but it came open after the ice broke away.
Not locked, and the handle was busted. Those men hadn’t
belonged here after all.
He turned around and started back toward the Ski-Doo. “You
were right, Storm. Wolves, and they knew we were coming.”
He looked down at the tracks, searching for where those wolves could have headed. Likely back to the neighboring pack that he’d attacked in the fall, but which direction had they gone in? And would he be able to catch them before they got back? He certainly didn’t have the manpower he did back then, and he and those other men had had their asses kicked.
He rode along, following the tracks back from whence they came, Anthony and Storm riding right behind him.
“Did they come this way?” Chance asked.
“Maybe.”
Then he saw it, the way the snow scraped and swished in an odd way compared to the rest of the untouched snow, just off to the side of the tracks and right into the trees.
