This was the bastard that killed Johnny. This was the one who'd fought Cage and lost. This was the fucker who had broken up Roman's pack.
Barking and snarling, both of them rejoined the fight, the big gray tearing in with a single-minded intensity. Roman fought just as hard, his admiration for Cage growing when he thought of his little pup fighting this goddamned monster.
A surprised yelp left him when the intruder snapped the end of his tail right off. Pain fueled his strength and Roman all but doubled back on himself, latching on to the other's throat and holding on. He hadn't caught the jugular, but the big wolf was screaming, so he must have really done some damage.
The big gray tried to back off, but Roman held on, shaking his head back and forth, his paws slip-sliding in the snow. The other howled, snarling and pulling and finally broke free, leaving a patch of skin a good two inches around in Roman's mouth. A heavy trail of blood followed the other all the way to into the forest, and Roman was tempted to follow, but when he took a step, he realized that he was dripping blood, too.
And that he had other fish to fry.
If he had thought he needed to find Cage before, he knew it now. He had to find Cage, had to make sure the pup knew it was okay to come back home.
That Roman had been wrong. So wrong.
They were still pack. And he'd find Cage if it was the last thing he did.
***
The hare was in a trap, still and frozen where it had died, and he moved carefully, watching for hunters, but too hungry not to take the bait. The snows were coming; he could smell them and he knew once they fell, there would be no hunting.
He would only dream, then. After the fevers had passed, he thought that wolves should never dream, that only men should dream. He was not a man.
Cage grabbed the hare and jumped back as the bigger snare snapped shut, missing him. He growled at the metal teeth, marked it. His home. His home now.
His den.
The first snowflakes started to fall and Cage picked up the hare. He would take it with him to his little den. He would take it and hide it for…
He finished gulping the meal, fur and all, before his thoughts stopped. Cage chuffed, sniffing around for bits he'd lost before padding back to his den.
***
The snow kept falling. At first he'd been fascinated by it, then scared as the light from the little cave faded each day.
Now, Cage didn't care.
The more snow that fell, the warmer his den was.
He curled in tighter, licking and biting at the pink skin of his leg, soothing himself, crooning to keep himself company. The spring would come and he would learn to hunt with a bad leg, learn to work without his arm strong.
It would come.
It would.
His tail covered his nose and he dozed, dreaming of running and hunting, of dark eyes laughing with him, loving him.
In his dream he could hear Roman calling to him. Not that mournful, lost howl he'd heard that last night, but a sharp, I'm coming sort of way. It echoed in his ears, making him whine.
He let himself remember the little house, his tools, the shower that fit them both. The smell of eggs in the kitchen and pack in the bed.
It made him warm, deep in his bones.
He heard Roman again, heard that low growl that meant Roman was frustrated, was trying to wake him up. Then a cold, cold chill hit his nose, the cave seeming to go bright and light as the dawn’s sun poured in.
His eyes popped open and he scrambled back before he even saw who had discovered him. Damn it. Damn it.
Like the heavy barrier of snow was less than nothing, a big muscled body popped into his cave, shaking like mad to get the white stuff off. A body he recognized. A man he knew.
Cage fought the urge to whimper; he hadn't gone back, he hadn't encroached on Roman's territory at all.
His heart pounded and he knew, without a doubt, he couldn't outfight Roman this time. Still, if he was going to die, he would go fighting. He braced himself on three legs and bared his teeth. This place was his.
His own.
Roman didn't attack, didn't even feint or circle. No, the damned big asshole grinned, kneeling and lowering his head and looking Cage right in the eye, making this familiar half-growl, half-whine.
What game was this? He kept sliding against the wall, not giving Roman an opening. He could run. If he could get to the opening, he could run.
"Cub..."
He did whimper then, the word cutting into him like a blade. Cage took his chance, running for the cave opening as fast as he could.
If he could make the riverbank, he could go downstream before Roman caught him again.
They collided with a smack, Roman's arms closing around him, and they hit the ground with a thud, making Roman grunt and curse. "Pup! No. Cage. Please, wait."
His foreleg ached, the damn thing not cooperating as he scrabbled at the ground, barking furiously.
Like he'd never been rejected, refused, Roman twisted and wrestled him, heavy and hot against him, pushing him back from the mouth of the cave, back almost to the wall. That big bastard took him right down, too, human teeth closing on his throat.
Gentle as could be.
Cage's eyes rolled, body screaming at him to fight, instinct making him still and stay, trembling and waiting for Roman to tear into him.
Instead, Roman stroked his fur, his muzzle, making these almost subvocal noises that eased him, stopped his shaking a little.
Finally he closed his eyes, too hungry and tired and confused to fight anymore. He didn't understand.
Of course, he hadn't understood anything in days, why should today be different?
A low, sweet growl ghosted across his throat, Roman nuzzling right up to him, breathing in time with him.
Warm.
Roman was warm.
Another low rumble sounded, and then damned if that confusing son of a bitch didn't move them again, putting him on his feet.
"Come home with me, Cage."
Cage thought about being human. Thought about losing his fur, about paws becoming hands and...
He couldn’t. He was lost.
"You heard me. I said come home with me." Roman moved close again, warming him, nosing his neck. "I can explain..."
Explain? He was an outsider, alone. Denied. Cage shook his head, staring down at his foreleg with the scars, the fresh pink flesh, the lump from the break making it still too sensitive to hold his weight. He hadn't imagined it all.
He hadn't.
Roman had turned on him.
"I can, Cub. I was wrong. You have to come home. It's as much yours as it is mine." So reasonable. So calm. Roman touched him, stroking his ruff, dark eyes serious.
He shook his head, convinced suddenly that he had finally frozen. That his hunger and wounds were worse than he understood. Cage bared his teeth.
Roman had driven him away.
Like Roman could read his thoughts he said, "I know. I'm just fucking glad I didn't kill you. I need you, Cub."
He wanted to lean into that touch. He didn't understand. He shuddered, whining low. He didn't understand.
"Shhh. Let me get you home. Let's get some food in you, curl up in our bed, and I'll tell you."
He backed away. No. No. He didn't want Roman to hurt him there. He had loved it there. Loved Roman there. If Roman was going to fight him, he wanted to do it here.
"I'm not joking. Don’t pull away from me. Have I ever lied to you, Cub? Ever? I was wrong. Come on, Cage, it's fucking cold."
It was cold.
He dropped his head, too confused and exhausted to fight. Roman stood beside him, big and strong, and he headed into the snow, gait unsteady as he fought the snow, his foreleg.
Roman kept on him, kept him moving, leading when the snow got too deep, lifting him and carrying him when he slowed down. But never once did Roman turn on him. It was unreal, like a dream, and Cage couldn't understand it anymore, so he stopped trying. He just kept moving.<
br />
When the cabin came into sight he wanted to howl, sure that the cruel joke was almost over, but Roman went right up to the door and let them in, just like that.
Cage limped in, finding a protected spot beside the wood-burning stove that kept the cabin warm. He couldn't stop sniffing, stop smelling the familiar and the new and the different. The place was trashed, shit laying everywhere. Broken shit. Some of it looked like it was cobbled back together, but a lot was just...kindling. It had been such a good house. He keened softly for it as he lapped at his pads, his toes, cleaning and warming his feet.
"Yeah. I kinda got...itchy. Went a little nuts. We'll put it back to rights. Come on, Babe. Bed." Oh. Roman. Stoking the stove and then wandering right toward the bedroom.
No. No. He didn't think so. He could sleep here where it was safe and warm.
Cage curled into a tight ball, paws over his nose. Napping.
Napping first.
Then thinking.
***
Roman swerved at the last moment and headed for the shower, and that was when he realized Cage wasn't with him. It concerned him that Cage wasn't back in his human form, wasn't able to talk to him and get all this shit fixed. Maybe the cub just needed doctoring.
Roman wandered back through the shattered front room, shaking his head. He hadn't fixed up the place at all after the fight. He'd just dropped everything and gone to find Cage. Now he found Cage curled up by the stove, and Roman squatted down, his hands running automatically over Cage's ears.
Cage whimpered a little, then those eyes popped open, staring at him. The cub was skinny, fur all rough, and that leg. Damn.
It was the eyes, though, so confused, that did him in. Roman scooped Cage right up off the floor and hauled him to the bedroom, holding tight when the cub would have struggled. He needed to dose that leg.
Cage panted, trembling in his arms, little sounds filling the air like the cub was trying to talk to him. Hell, he probably was. The damned fool should be human at this phase. He got Cage settled on the nest of covers, stroking the thin back and the long nose. "Gonna get some stuff for your leg, Cub. Don't go anywhere."
Cage curled up into himself, watching his every move. Staring at him. Worried about what he was gonna do, he'd bet. All he did do was go to the bathroom and get antiseptic and some bandages and shit, coming back to sit carefully next to Cage.
The bandages were nosed, Cage shivering a little. He could feel the muscles in the cub's body shift and shudder, the hint of the man right there, right under the surface.
"It would be easier to treat you as a man, Babe. Just a thought." He kept his voice low, coaxing. Kept all his moves easy.
Cage groaned and muttered, head tossing a little. The cub was trying, Roman could see it. It was like Cage had forgotten his form.
"Come on, Cage. Come on. I can't spoon with you like this, can't take you to the shower and wash you. You remember how we fit? How good it is? Come on." God, he hated to see the cub in this kind of pain. And it was his fault.
Those eyes met his, filled with confusion and hurt and a bone-deep betrayal that rocked him to the core. Then Cage moved off the bed, howling as the wolf disappeared, leaving him a naked, swaying man kneeling on his floor.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. He knelt next to Cage, sliding his arms around the pup, nuzzling into the thin shoulder. "It's okay, Cub. I got you. It's okay."
"I. You. You. What do you want? I stayed away."
"I know." He gave a rough chuckle. "I had a time finding you."
"Why?" Cage wanted to lean into him, he could feel it. He knew.
"It was...out in the woods. It was Johnny. I thought you didn't tell me..." And in his wolf, he wasn't very reasonable, was he?
"What? I told you. He left. We fought. He left." Christ, the kid didn't even know that the bastard who'd come wasn't Johnny.
"You fought someone, Babe. Someone a Hell of a lot stronger than Johnny." Fuck, he was amazed Cage was still alive. "You've got grit, Cub."
He got a look like he had lost his mind. "Don't call me cub. We're not pack."
Roman growled, the urge to show Cage how pack they were almost too strong to resist. Instead of tossing Cage down and covering him, though, he kissed the cub right on the mouth, as gentle as he could be, probably not gentle enough. Cage whimpered, eyes searching his frantically, the little sounds less human now, more wolf.
Licking Cage's lower lip, he pulled away just enough to nuzzle Cage's throat, that skinny belly, licking and growling. The old scars were right there, reminding him that his cub was a fighter, was strong.
Once he was satisfied that Cage wore his scent, Roman pulled back and stared right into those eyes. "I was wrong. It was another who killed Johnny, who came back for you right before I hunted you down. I'm sorry."
"I told you. Your man left. He ran. I bit his face, took an eye. He ran. I told you." Cage shook his head. "Another? Who?"
"A killer, Babe. Just a fucking rogue killer." Stroking Cage's back, he rose, lifting Cage with him and settling them on the bed, curling with him.
"I don't understand." The cub curled around the hurt arm, knees drawn up.
"I'll say it until you do." He knew how it was, to be injured and disoriented. How it fucked with you. "You didn't kill Johnny, Cub. You didn't."
"I know."
"Well, I thought you did when I found his fucking body in the woods, torn to shreds!" Goddamn it, he had apologized.
Cage pulled away, scrambling back off the bed, eyes flashing as the cub moved out of his reach.
"You... you did this because of something you thought? For something like..." The crooked arm was raised, Cage's voice a deep growl. "You leave me alone or I will make you sorry."
Oh, he didn't fucking think so. "I thought you'd lied to me, Cub. What the fuck was I supposed to think?" He reached for Cage, gonna knock some sense into him.
Cage snapped at him, slapped his hand away, snarling. "Don't fucking call me cub."
"Damn it, Cage." Lunging, he wrapped around that too thin body and took Cage down on the bed, using his weight to hold them down.
"Motherfucker." Cage gasped, teeth on his throat sharp enough to sting.
Growling low and deep he pushed Cage down and bit down on one shoulder, making the cub feel it, hoping it would shock the fight out of him. The cub's instincts were stronger than anything, generations and generations of hierarchy in those veins and Cage groaned, snapping at the air, fighting the urge to submit.
Cage was stronger than he had been, for all of the lost weight and injured body. Damn. Roman pressed down, his mouth at that pretty throat, sucking up a bruise. The taste was. Damn. His. His cub and he wasn't fucking losing Cage again, goddamnit. That chin lifted, Cage's throat working under his lips.
That was it. That was what they both needed. "Mine. My Cage."
"Roman." Yes. Yes. Cub. He felt Cage shudder, melt and go limp beneath him.
God, yes. Rumbling, he moved up, rubbing against Cage's body, scenting him all over. They were together. Together. His. His pack. Cage moaned, lips open, tongue hot on his skin.
They kissed again, deeper this time, desperate and needy. Reestablishing the bond. God, he'd missed this, missed Cage in his bed and he wondered how he'd ever thought Cage would lie to him. When Cage's fingers wrapped around his upper arms, holding on, tugging him close, it was all he could do not to howl his need. So good. Trusting him, wanting him still. His cock ached, and he rubbed harder, the soft skin of Cage's lower belly so hot against him that he did cry out, a hard, barking sound.
"Need. I." Cage twisted under him, wild for a second like the needing was too much, too big for the cub.
"Shh. I got you, Cage. Gonna fly." They would, too. Roman reached down, twisting so he could grab Cage's cock.
"I didn't. I dreamed of you." The words ended in a sharp cry, Cage humping up toward his touch.
"I searched this house for you every night. Tore it up..." There. Fuck, yes, there. He got both of them lined up together
, squeezing their pricks, lapping at Cage's sweat.
"Wanted. I thought. Roman." The words didn't make a lick of sense, but it didn't matter because Cage was coming, howling with it, and that scent hit his nose like a flood, all salt and heat and Cage. Roman bucked, his body taking over his mind, and he howled back, calling his pack as he came, loving Cage so damned much it hurt.
Cage was still underneath him, breath panting on his jaw. He needed to bandage his pup up, feed Cage, get them in the shower and then in the bed for about. Oh. Ten years or so. He kissed Cage's forehead. "Come on, Babe. I need to get you cleaned up. And then we can rest. Together."
Shifting Again Page 35
