by Owner
It was the perfect way to find out exactly where the enemy was hiding when one couldn’t count on the wind to be with them.
Storm and Tatum knew this, too. Tatum was the first to act,
jumping up and grabbing for a rifle from the inside of one of the long bags he carried around. It was filled with other weapons.
Storm spoke up when Tatum took aim.
“Sir, he’s already brought them this close. Maybe we can still use him to help us fight when they arrive.”
Tatum whirled on him, pointing the barrel of his gun at Storm’s face.
Storm lifted his hands and backed away a step.
Tatum seethed at him. “You were the one who said they wouldn’t be tracking us for him. I should kill you, too!”
Morgan had to give the man credit, he recovered quickly. “Then you will kill Chance, and Tony is missing. You’ll be all alone to fight the werewolves.”
Tatum actually shook with anger. He bared his clenched teeth to the other man, but must have seen the logic in his words because he swore loudly and turned away.
“God fucking damn it! Just grab a gun, and radio Tony. See if that asshole’s―”
The little black walkie-talkie at Storm’s hip crackled. No voices sounded. Nothing human, at any rate, but there were some angry growls coming from the other end.
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Storm took the thing in his hand and pressed the button on the side. “Whoever this is, is the hunter you took alive?”
Why was he even worrying about him? Clearly this man wasn’t a human. Morgan could smell it all over him. Why did he bother working for the hunters?
Another loud growl sounded, and then the loud screech of the signals getting crossed somewhere, and then nothing.
Storm looked down at the radio and then put it back in the little holster at his hip.
“Just you and me then,” Tatum said. “Him, too, I guess, but he looks pretty worthless,” Tatum nodded toward their bleeding comrade, who was almost upon them by now.
“So long as the possibility exists that Tony is still alive, I’ll stay with you.”
Morgan’s first thought at those words was how much this man must love that hunter to be doing the things he was doing against other paranormal creatures. Strange, especially considering how dead his tone was.
Despite himself, Morgan began to relax a little. Help had come, and he wasn’t going to be a wolf skin rug any time soon.
He almost breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw one particular wolf off in the distance.
It was a common gray wolf, of regular size, for an omega. Morgan
didn’t need his sense of smell to know who that was.
He screamed when Tatum pointed his rifle and fired.
The blast might as well have shot straight into Morgan’s heart. The jolt he got was so strong, he thought he would pass out or have a heart attack.
But then that deathlike grip on his insides released when he noted how Terry had skittered out of the way of the blast. Snow exploded up and around the area that was shot, but Terry had not been hit.
“Fucking wolf, hold still!” Tatum said, aiming and firing again. Storm held a gun in his hands, a black Glock that Morgan suspected
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was loaded, but he just stood there, watching as Tatum took his shots.
Again, he missed as Terry leaped out of the way. Now, that other hunter was running for his life, running and sobbing, waving his arms around for help.
No, not help. Morgan realized. He was trying to warn Tatum.
Terry hadn’t come here by himself. He was acting as the distraction.
Storm must have realized this because he ran to where Morgan was still tied to the tree and put a gun to his head just as James, Nick, John, and even a few of the newer alphas to the pack jumped over the shrubs that had been hiding them, claws out, jaws open, and anger in every pair of golden eyes.
Tatum didn’t turn around until it was too late, and the rifle was
knocked out of his hands with one last blast that clipped a black walnut tree, sending splinters of bark and wood flying all over the place.
He screamed as John locked his teeth around his arm, but he was
quick to pull out that hunting knife of his and stab the young alpha
with it before John could take his whole arm off.
He cried out and flew off the man. The other alphas abandoned their prey and came forward to make sure John was okay, giving Tatum enough time to grab his rifle, the bag of weapons he’d had with him, and run to the snow mobile he had waiting for him.
Any one of the other wolves could have picked him off. It wouldn’t have been hard with the clumsy, panicked way he ran. He was practically tripping over his own feet.
No, it seemed that after John had been seen to, everyone looked up and noticed that Storm had a gun to Morgan’s temple. Now there was only one man here they really wanted to kill.
Chance saw that his leader was getting ready to abandon them, and he screamed as he attempted to force his body to obey and run faster. “Wait!”
He’d almost made it. Morgan was even starting to inwardly cheer
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for the kid. He always did enjoy the underdog.
Tatum had the engine started and sped away just as the bloodied kid reached out to touch the snow mobile, leaving a streak of blood from where his hands had made contact.
He fell to his knees and screamed after his former leader, then
broke down sobbing in the snow.
Some of the other alphas surrounded him, a few even cocking their heads as they watched him. Likely they were wondering whether or not to just put him out of his misery or leave him alone considering how pathetic he looked.
Hell, it was so pathetic that even with a gun to his head, Morgan still saw all the details.
James shifted onto two legs. With how scarred his face was, it was difficult for him to look anything other than threatening, but he held his hands palm out, kept his distance, and spoke in a soft tone.
“You don’t want to do that, son.”
Terry trotted over, widely circling around the crying figure in the snow, and then he spotted Morgan, as well as the weapon pointed at him.
He whined and tried to charge forth, but Nick quickly stepped in and grabbed him by the scruff, forcing him down on his belly.
Good man. The last thing Morgan wanted was for Terry to get himself shot. Why the hell had James even allowed an omega to come to a battle anyway? Granted, it had been a short battle, but still…
He stared at his pack leader, knowing the man was hearing his thoughts because he was projecting them so loudly.
James’s lips thinned, but he kept his eyes firmly focused on Storm. “If you kill him, then you’ll have lost all your leverage. What will you do after that?”
Terry growled at Storm, but Nick held him in place. John shifted on two feet and went to stand beside James. There was a strange sort of horror on his expression that Morgan had never seen before.
Morgan read the situation as best as he could. Storm wasn’t going
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to kill him, not after he let Nick and Terry go. He was just keeping James and the others from ripping him to pieces. For now.
“What did you do with the other hunter?” Storm demanded. “The one that didn’t come back.”
“He’s dead,” John said.
James glared at the younger alpha. He didn’t like being answered for, and if that had been the wrong answer to give, then he could only make things worse.
Storm’s expression dropped, and so did the gun. “You killed him?”
“Don’t do anything stupid, now,” James said, his scarred expression becoming all the more severe as he glared at Storm.
The gun was quickly lifted back to Morgan’s head when the alphas stepped forward.
As one, they backed away again when the danger to Morgan’s life was b
ack.
“Don’t kill him,” John begged. He seemed the most fearful for Morgan’s life.
That was funny. He wasn’t aware the kid cared so much.
Storm faced Morgan, his one eye dark and hard. “You owe me.”
With a start, and an inward sigh of relief, Morgan understood. “James, let him run away.”
“What?”
“No way!”
James and John replied at the same time. James finally lost his patience and snapped at the other alpha to go and watch the perimeter.
John left the immediate circle, but he still stayed close, still watching Morgan and Storm.
“Why am I letting him go after he helped kidnap you and is currently pointing a gun at your head?” James asked, trying for patience but failing miserably.
Morgan looked at Storm pointedly there, and the other man hesitantly lowered the gun. He even started untying Morgan’s wrists.
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“When the hunters caught me, he was the one to convince the others to let Terry and Nick go. Said they wouldn’t risk coming back for one caught wolf.”
Morgan grunted when his hands were freed, and he frowned at the deep-red indents the ropes had left in his skin. Then he started to rub the circulation back into them.
He nodded at Storm and got to his feet. His muscles were stiff from kneeling in that position for so long, and there wasn’t enough on him that was numb to keep the pain at bay.
Terry finally managed to get out from Nick’s grasp, and with an eager whine, he ran over to Morgan.
The wolf rubbed himself along Morgan’s legs like a cat happy to see its owner. Morgan patted his side, just as happy to see that his mate was in good health.
“What are you?” James asked, apparently noticing the odd scent coming from the other man.
“I’m a werecat. I shift into a mountain lion.”
“You?” Morgan looked over. Chance, the youngest of the four hunters, was staring at Storm with wide, betrayed eyes.
“Sorry, kid,” Storm said, then turned to James. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill him either. He’s young and not very bright.”
“He’s a hunter, and with those scratches on his back, he’s infected
with werewolf venom as well.”
“Then make him part of your pack,” Storm pleaded. “There’s been enough killing already.”
“Why were you even here? Why help hunters?” Morgan asked. He’d been dying to know ever since scenting that Storm wasn’t exactly human. He wasn’t just a nonhuman. He was a shifter, the same as everyone else in Morgan’s pack.
Storm looked away from him and shook his head. “A werewolf wouldn’t understand. Are you sure Tony is dead?”
“I killed him myself,” John said, stepping forward again.
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For the first time, now that he wasn’t staring right at James, Storm seemed to finally take note of the younger man.
His one eye widened, moving up and down John’s body, and he stepped back.
“If you really did help Nick and Terry get away, then we’re in your debt. Two for two. Yours and his,” James said, motioning with a jerk of his head back at Chance. “Though I can’t promise his stay with us will be exactly pleasant, considering the things he has to look forward to.”
First transformations were a bitch like that.
“Come with us,” John said. He and Storm were still locking eyes
in a way that was starting to make Morgan suspicious.
Storm shook his head, and in the most fluid transformation
Morgan had ever seen, he shifted into the form of a cougar, shrugged out of his clothing, and then darted off. No one bothered to chase him down, though John looked like he wanted to.
Poor kid.
“That was different,” James said, and then he turned and looked at
Morgan, his eyes staring particularly at his busted nose. “You look like shit. Let’s get that seen to before it heals incorrectly.”
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Chapter Thirteen
Terry could tell that Morgan was angry with him for going along with the alphas, but he refused to be cowed by it.
James’s first answer to Terry’s demand had been a flat no, and even though Terry was now a part of this pack, he was still wild enough to be able to disobey a little. So he’d followed the alphas when they set out.
Because of the hurry they were in, they’d grudgingly allowed it, so long as he didn’t get in the way of what they were doing.
Terry had told Morgan this, but the other man had stubbornly insisted on staying a little angry with his alpha.
He’d get over it eventually.
His inner wolf, angry and wild as it was, had been a constant growling presence inside his mind, demanding that he go and take back what was his. When the first hunter had been killed, and the second injured, he saw his opportunity to help.
They sent back the injured hunter, with Terry―being controlled mostly by his angry wolf―nipping at his heels.
The distraction had worked, and now Morgan was safe at home.
One wouldn’t have known that considering the way the other man whined and yelled when the pack’s wise woman, an elderly lady with a huge hump in her back, had to come and set his broken nose for him and then pulled out some needles to give him, too.
Terry had added it to the list he was making in his head. The list of things Morgan liked, didn’t like, all that stuff.
Needles were on the top-five list of things he did not like and had to be forced to deal with. Hunters were at number one.
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“Favorite color,” Morgan said, his voice still nasally. It sounded like he had a cold, but that was only because of how the bandages were still in place. The break hadn’t healed enough for them to be removed yet.
“Red,” Terry answered, nudging Morgan with his foot. “Yours?”
They were lying in Morgan’s bed in the cabin he shared with some of the other alphas. Morgan had pretty much been given a few days off from doing his chores and guarding the pack. Time for him to heal and to bond with his mate, James had said.
It had also been something of a gift to Terry. Every minute he didn’t spend with his mate, he spent with the members of his former pack who had been rescued from the hunters and were now living here.
The baby, Sammy, Phillip’s child, was one such person Terry had been most happy to see. Spending time with them also helped to center his inner wolf. It calmed him, knowing that there were still those who were safe.
Even Nick, the blind werewolf, was formerly a part of Phillip’s pack, and that was a fact that he hadn’t even remembered until recently now that more and more of his memories were returning.
Nick had always been something of a loner, being blind and all, so he wasn’t shocked that the man hadn’t recognized him. When Terry had confirmed it to him that they were former pack mates, even if they were pack mates who never hung out together, he could still recall the pleasure he’d felt at the smile that had formed on the other were’s face before they’d hugged each other.
Morgan had to think about it. “Black.”
“That’s not a color!”
“Yes, it is.”
“Black is a shade,” Terry insisted.
“A shade of color,” Morgan said with a grin.
Terry looked at him.
“All right, all right. I know it’s not a color. But I like it best. It
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goes with everything,” Morgan said.
Terry filed that away as Morgan liked every color.
“Favorite movie?” Terry asked.
This time the answer was instant. “The Friday the 13th series.
Except the one where he goes into space.”
Terry laughed at the way Morgan muttered the last part, as though it had put a bad taste in his mouth.
“And you?”
�
�Uh.” Here was where Terry got a little embarrassed. “The Wolf Man.”
“The― !” Morgan sat up quickly and stared down at Terry with something akin to horror. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I know, but I like those movies. The newer one was pretty cool, too.”
“Those movies only pass around the idea that we’re dangerous
and can’t control ourselves.”
“Dracula movies do the same thing with vampires.”
“That’s because most vampires are pompous assholes who suck the life out of everything.”
Terry raised his brows at his lover, and then he grinned. “You think Ivan or Vlad will be happy to hear that?”
Terry had met the two vampires, and though he was somewhat concerned for Ivan’s mental health, after he’d caught the vampire apparently talking to himself, he still liked the both of them.
Later he’d found out that the talking to himself part was normal for Ivan, who was apparently a medium and could speak to ghosts. It only got stranger when Terry found out that Ivan was apparently mated to the spirits of one of the alphas in this pack who’d died in battle.
He tried not to let that weird him out too much whenever he found
himself hanging out with the man.
“I said most vampires,” Morgan grudgingly admitted. “The last
thing I need is for Andrew, or Ivan possessed by Eric, to come
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knocking on my door asking what the hell my problem is.”
“Favorite game?” Terry asked, continuing on with their questionand-answer session. They were both naked, but so far nothing had happened between them as they lay in bed. They just snuggled together, but with the way Terry felt Morgan’s fingertips tickling up and down his ribs, moving as low as his hips sometimes, he knew Morgan was thinking about it.
“Before, I would’ve mentioned all the Atari classics.”
“You would pick something like that,” Terry said, nudging him. He’d finally gotten Morgan to admit his age, and apparently, today was his birthday. Sixty years old. It was strange, considering he didn’t look much older than Terry, really. Terry wanted to get him something, but Morgan insisted that his life and Terry were all he needed.
