by Leah Blake
“He’s a hunter, Nico. His team will come searching for him.”
Nico groaned, closing the door and turning to Storme. “Yes they will, but they won’t find him.” Storme’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t.”
“Nico, what is going on?”
Nico challenged Storme’s gaze until he let out a resigned breath.
Can’t keep it a secret forever.
“Promise not to freak.”
“Why?”
“Storme.”
Storme threw up his hands. “Fine. I won’t freak, but you’d better have a damn good excuse as to why I have a hunter in my truck that I can’t chuck back into the woods.”
“He’s a hunter, but he’s my mate. And I won’t let anything happen to him.”
Chapter Five
The throb in the back of his head greeted him as he rose from a dreamless sleep. A wince drew his face taut, the pain intensifying as he tried to sit up. A wave of nausea squeezed at his gut and he swallowed to keep the bile from creeping up his throat.
Damn. What had happened?
“Ah, Sleeping Cutie is awake.”
Mik tensed. His head resented the motion. Forcing his body to relax, he resorted to tipping his head to the side and peeling one eyelid open. Thankfully, the room was dim, wherever he was.
A shadowy figure shifted in and out of his hazy view until he found himself staring into a set of dark green eyes.
He gasped, scrambling back, made it a foot or so before his stomach revolted and his head split open.
“Hey, easy.”
“Marco, really?”
A hand rested against the back of Mik’s head, guiding his face over a small garbage can that appeared out of the dark. He gave in to the forceful heaves, gripping the edge of the wastebasket for support. Along his back, heat curled around him, a protective bubble surrounding his vulnerable position. The hand against his head lowered to his neck and rubbed slow circles against his tight muscles.
“You’ll be okay. I promise.”
He recognized that voice. A voice of rich honey and possessive beast. He should be pissed, on guard, and ready to shoot the creature. Instead, as the last of his stomach contents hit the wastebasket, he sank his trembling body into the hard curve of the wolf at his back. A strong arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer.
“Marco, what did you do?”
If Mik didn’t believe his head would explode with the slightest motion, he would have grinned at the deep, resonating demand that echoed throughout Nico’s chest. The strong, steady beat of his heart somehow soothed his mind, as did the scents that stuck with him after his kiss with Nico.
“Saw him stir and went to check on him. He freaked the hell out.” A grunt followed. “Don’t even know why I checked on him. Doesn’t deserve it.”
“Enough.”
“Storme had some pretty valid points, Nico. You should listen to him every now and again.”
Nico growled. “Mar-co.”
Mik couldn’t suppress a shiver from the guttural sound. Nico cussed quietly, shifting Mik’s body until he was lying back on the mattress.
“He needs medical attention. Call Storme and find out where he is with that witch.”
“Witch?” Mik whispered. He tried to push off Nico’s chest, but the arm around him tightened. “No. I don’t want a witch.”
“I’m about to burst your perfect world bubble, little one.” Nico brushed the hair from Mik’s forehead, a motion so tender for a wolf that Mik couldn’t garner an argument. Instead, he gazed up at the handsome being hovering over him, golden eyes scouring his face. His fingers slipped to the back of his head. When he touched an area above his nape, Mik cringed. Pain lashed out along his skull. “You’re about to get a taste of what my world is really like.”
Mik couldn’t muster any strength outside of gazing up into Nico’s face. The heat that poured off the beast cast the chill in his blood aside. He felt safe, content, albeit in pain, but content nonetheless. He really didn’t have the strength to face paranormals at this time. He wasn’t even sure if he wore his equipment.
“What happened, Nico?”
Nico sighed. “What do you remember?”
Mik paddled through the murky memories right before he blacked out. He and his squadron had it on good word that lamabra had struck somewhere in the forest they had hunted the night before. They moved out to follow the lead.
He remembered the forest. A scream. He ran. Found a woman and a dog. He shot his gun, distracting the lamabra long enough to get the woman into a hiding spot…
“Everything is muddy after I got a woman into a patch of bramble. There was a lamabra, but I can’t make out anything else right now.” Mik closed his eyes and sighed. The strength it took to keep his eyes open even to slits increased the pain in his head. “My team’s going to be looking for me.”
The heavy silence put him on edge. He reached up to Nico’s arm and squeezed his wrist.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Two guys were killed in the woods. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Two guys. His heart sank. “Hunters?”
“I’m sorry, Mikhail. There was no chance of saving them. They were dead before I got there.” Nico’s knuckles stroked his cheek. “You saved the woman, though. You saved her and the dog.”
Okay. He protected the woman, but remembered nothing after that point. Here he was, lying in a bed that was not the hotel’s, surrounded by wolves, one being his mate, or so he suspected.
His fingers tightened around Nico’s wrist. “No. No, I didn’t. Who saved her? Who saved me?”
The pain was getting to be unbearable, his grip on reality slipping between his fingers. He needed to stay awake, but a nap sounded so good about now.
Only a few minutes.
“Give in, little one. Rest. When you wake again, you’ll feel better.”
With Nico’s soft-spoken permission, he gave up his fight and sank into another dreamless sleep.
* * * *
Nico didn’t leave Mikhail’s side until Storme arrived with a local witch and healer. His mate slept, a furrow between his brows the only hint that he suffered pain from his injuries. His dark blond hair stuck out in every direction, chunks matted to his forehead. A nice knot had formed at the back of his head. Nico feared that the power in his attempt to save Mikhail had caused a serious head injury.
He really didn’t need another strike against him in his mate’s book.
Standing outside his room with Storme, he watched the witch lay out his magical possessions on the dresser.
“He knocked his head pretty good,” Nico said, propping his shoulder against the wall so he could keep an eye on the witch with his mate. “He doesn’t remember my interception or the lamabra attacking him.”
“Well, his pupils were sluggish when we first got back. You said he woke up?” Storme asked. Nico nodded. “That’s a good sign.”
“Hopefully.”
Storme leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “When I called Raul trying to find a local healer, I told him about the situation. I told him about Mikhail.”
Nico cast him a short glance before focusing his attention on the witch now hovering over Mikhail. “I wouldn’t expect you to leave him in the dark.”
“Well, since this situation presents bigger problems, I sought his advice.”
“And?”
“Surprisingly, he recommends we return to the Creek. With your mate. Two hunters are dead. One goes missing, presumed dead. He’ll be safe for a while.” Storme jutted his chin toward the witch. “He can patch him up long enough to get us back to the manor. Cael will be able to heal him.”
Nico wrestled with the idea of bringing Mikhail to the manor. Although not all guards knew who he was, many did, which didn’t bode well for his mate’s open-arm acceptance. He trusted Raul with his life. He trusted Raul’s mate, as well. One of the things on their plate was to smooth relations with the hunters.
It would definitely put Nico’s mind at ease knowing his mate wasn’t hunting lamabra with very little hope of surviving an attack.
Nico had two points on his card. Mikhail, none. He was as good as dead both encounters had Nico not shown up when he did.
Ultimately, the Creek was the safest place for Mikhail, whether he liked the idea or not. He’d deal with the backlash later, after his little mate was healed up.
Nico turned his attention to Storme. His friend hadn’t been happy about bringing Mikhail back to their cabin. Hell, Nico wouldn’t have been either if the situation was reversed. Mikhail was dangerous.
However, despite his disapproval of the situation, Storme understood. When they were fated with mates, they had no control over who that mate was. Finding a mate was as precious as finding a rare jewel. The paranormal communities did not take mates for granted. The gift of a mate was also a small hope of continuing a bloodline. With the fading female population among all factions of paranormals, the males had evolved to nurture life inside a womb-like environment. Unfortunately, Caesarean was the only means of delivery, and that was if the child-bearing partner survived the pregnancy.
Only a bonded pair could procreate.
So, yeah. Storme didn’t have to like the pairing, but every paranormal who valued their race and valued mates accepted all pairings, however polar opposite they may be.
“What about the lamabra?” Nico asked.
Storme shrugged. “Two are down, bringing our total across all teams to three. If there were twelve, then we have nine more to go. I doubt we’ll find another one here.”
“Good.” Nico leaned his head against the wall. The witch chanted quietly, his hands splayed in the air over Mikhail’s sleeping figure, a faint golden glow lightening his fingertips. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as he does his patchwork. Mikhail will remain unconscious until Cael wakes him up. He won’t see where the Creek is or how to get to the manor from the gate.”
Nico nodded. “Let’s pack up shop and head home.”
He had no idea what he’d face when he returned to the Creek. He had no clue how Mikhail would respond to waking up in a den of shifters and paranormals when he held such hatred toward Nico’s kind.
He only hoped that Mikhail would let go of whatever grudge he held from his past long enough to give them a chance. To give their mating a chance.
Maybe then, Mikhail would understand paranormals weren’t always the bad guys the hunters liked to believe.
Chapter Six
“The hematoma has been absorbed. There is no damage to the brain or nerves. No further swelling.”
Mik floated somewhere in a gray world, his body nothing but an essence of being. An essence of energy with the ability to hear. The voices filtering through this obtuse environment were alien, unfamiliar. A doctor, maybe? Something about a hematoma? Did he suffer brain damage?
“It’s time to wake him up.”
“I’ll get Nico.”
“Raul requested to be present when he wakes.”
Nico. Nico the wolf man. Nico who protected him. Nico who was his mate. A hunter mated to a wolf.
Was that even possible?
The gray surrounding him began to fade. The essence of existing without a body slowly changed. Weight increased along limbs he didn’t have a few moments before. Muscle, tissue, skin. Hypersensitive skin. The air caressing his skin was cool, causing the hairs on his arms to tingle and stand on end. He found dry lips as he traced them with the tip of his tongue.
He tried his fingers once he could feel them again. Fisted and flexed, his joints weak but working. The pads of his fingers brushed against something soft. He pressed his hands into the material, feeling for where he lay.
His nostrils flared as the scents surrounding him intensified with each breath. His brain couldn’t separate each scent, each aroma. They were potent as much as relaxing.
“Open your eyes, Mikhail.”
This strange voice, soft and soothing, coaxed him to follow the gentle command. Mik squeezed his eyes, testing his eyelids and their ability to move before he blinked them open. Dim light filtered through slits before he closed his eyes again.
When he opened them further the second time, the blurry silhouettes of two men encroached on either side of his vision field. He blinked away the blur until the two silhouettes came into focus.
“How are you feeling, Mikhail?” the man to his left asked. His eyes, so deep a violet they almost glowed a dark blue, held his gaze. His fingers traced the air around Mik’s head, a faint smoky violet cloud around his fingertips.
Mik’s eyes widened. He twisted away from the hand only to have another hand catch his shoulder.
“Be easy. We are not going to harm you.”
That soothing, entrancing voice again. The one that filled him with such calm he actually laid back and relaxed into the mattress. He looked up at the owner of the voice. His throat constricted and his eyes nearly teared up. He blinked several times before he realized he wasn’t seeing things. The man he stared upon had to be one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen. An air of serenity and calm poured off him in waves that washed away any negative thought from his mind.
“Whe…” Mik cleared his throat. “Where am I? Who are you?” He glanced at the guy to his left, his gaze lowering to his hand. “What are you?”
“My name’s Cael. I’m the in-house physician.”
Mik shook his head. The calm continued to spread throughout his body, refusing to yield to his anxiety. “No. You’re more than that.”
“He’s a sorcerer,” the ungodly beauty to his right said.
He really couldn’t bear looking at the guy again, but, damn, he wanted to. And he did. Soft violet eyes watched him with no scrutiny, no judgment, just concern. His hair, pale blond, fell over his shoulders, brushing against a porcelain face that had to have been created by angels.
“Oh. My. God.” It hit him like a bullet. Mik scooted up in the bed until he was sitting against the headboard where he could watch both men easily. “Y-you’re Victor Cavanough.”
The man—no, no, vampire—grinned and bowed his head. The elegance in his fluid motion was breathtaking. Such a simple gesture filled with immense beauty and composure.
“Where am I?” Mik looked around the large room that resembled a fancy hotel suite, fit with a kitchenette, a sitting area, fireplace, flat screen television, and a door that probably led into a bathroom. He had never seen this place before, but something nagged at the back of his mind.
“You’re safe,” Cael said, stretching his hand toward Mik again. Mik went to swat his hand away, but Victor caught his wrist in a gentle grip and lowered his arm to his side.
“He’s checking your injuries, now that you’re awake. It is not painful and will take but a moment.”
The door to the room opened as Cael did the fancy smoke scan with his hand. Victor continued to touch his arm, a never-ending calm soaking up into his muscles. He feared he’d melt into a puddle on the pillows if the vampire didn’t stop, but couldn’t find the words to tell him so.
God, what’s wrong with me?
The men who came through the door were some of the largest men Mik had ever laid eyes on. Four of them, two he didn’t recognize.
The last man to enter made his heart do an unnerving fluttery thing and his dick woke up from its comatose state.
The corner of Nico’s mouth curved into a small half-grin, but it was his golden eyes that sparked with relief. Mik smiled before he could stop himself. His thoughts trekked into traitorous territory, happy to see Nico, thankful for the help from these enemies, curious about where he was.
Most of all, he wanted Nico to settle down beside him and hold him like he had when he threw up.
The largest, most intimidating man came around the bed and stood behind Victor, a hand coming to rest on the vampire’s shoulder. Victor lifted his hand from M
ik and stood up, moving away from the bed so the big boss could come closer. Eyes as piercing and brilliant as blue ice stared down at him. His expression was indiscernible and made Mik crawl in his own skin. He almost asked for the calm the vampire had delivered to him, but kept his mouth shut.
There was no way he’d ask for help from paranormals. No fucking way.
Enemies. They’re beasts, creatures, murderers. Enemies. Gotta get back to The Bunker.
“Mikhail Borreagous, welcome to Shadow Creek,” the hovering man said.
Shadow Creek? I’m at Shadow Creek? Holy shit, Jude’d be thrilled! Have to tell him I’ve breached Beast.
“First, I’d like to extend my sympathy for the loss of your teammates. I understand you are lucky to be alive.”
The man’s voice was as primitive as the beast he most certainly hid beneath this impressive front. He cast a shaded glance toward another big man positioned at the foot of the bed. Mikhail recognized the way three of the men staggered themselves around him. They were ready to attack if he proved to be a threat, or stop him if he tried to escape.
The tension surrounding him did not allow him a chance to absorb the impact of the leader guy’s words.
Leader. Is this…Raul Carney?
Cael withdrew his hand and eased off the edge of the bed, settling into an opening between Nico and the other beast he recognized from the Irish pub. Mik’s gaze lingered on Nico, recalling his possessive kiss and the strength in his embrace. He tried to swat the memories aside, tried to remember why he had to keep his distance, but the longer he stared at the wolf, the more he wanted to be in his arms.
“You had suffered trauma to your brain after hitting the ground in the forest. A small fracture to your skull, swelling, and bleeding. I recommended that you be brought here where the best care could be provided to ensure your complete recovery.”
