He stalked his prey, watching, waiting. He’d get a shot in, hopefully before Mahon was hurt any worse.
The moment came right after a surprisingly fierce growl from Diego. The bear Trent was going to kill jerked back and roared.
Trent fired. He shot again, and again, until the gun was empty. The bear had been dead after the first shot. Trent hadn’t meant to waste bullets, but anger and fear conspired to override his better judgment.
Trent leaned the gun against the truck and took off, leaping over or swerving around bodies of wolves, then of the bears.
Diego had shifted and was kneeling beside Mahon, who hadn’t yet resumed his human form.
Diego looked up at him with glistening eyes.
Trent’s heart stopped. He flushed hot and cold as he dropped to his knees. “Mahon! Don’t you even think about dying on me!” Trent’s nervous system and respiratory system were conspiring against him. He was shaking all over and dizzy from fear and the inability to get a decent breath.
“He’s alive,” Diego was saying. “He’s hurt bad.”
Like there was a hurt good in this scenario. Trent grabbed two handfuls of fur. “Shift, goddamn it. Shift now! I can’t—I can’t—” Trent sobbed once then pressed his lips so tightly together he tasted blood.
He felt hands on his back and arms. Joe, Diego, both—he didn’t know or care as Mahon opened one eye. Trent hunkered down, ignoring the fetid breath and the scary as fuck teeth. He pressed his cheek to Mahon’s head. “Shift, please,” he begged brokenly.
Mahon quivered under his hands. The fur slipped from his fingers and instead soft, sweaty hair lay beneath them.
Trent knew the hot moisture on his cheeks now was tears. He hadn’t cried since his mom had left. Not even when his dad died. There was no stopping himself now. “Mahon.” The name was ripped from him, leaving his chest aching like he’d suffered a wound himself.
Mahon moaned, and he was entirely too pale. Trent sat up and saw the injuries—long gashes down his side and flank.
“Need to see if that’s all of them.”
Joe said it quietly, but the words seemed to explode into Trent’s head.
“Where are you hurting, love?” He’d meant to call Mahon buddy as he often did, but his heart was having none of that sort of distancing.
Mahon’s lips moved, the only sound coming out another low groan.
Trent could see that the wounds would need stitching. They looked deep, but not down to the bones anywhere. Blood wasn’t gushing. In fact, the places weren’t bleeding as much as he’d expect.
“He’s already beginning to heal,” Diego said with wonder. “I’d heard bears were blessed like that.”
Trent didn’t ask. He thought about the knot Mahon had had that first night after Trent had clubbed him upside the head. It had been gone the next day. And Mahon hadn’t been unconscious long at all once Trent had hit him.
His terror, that innate fear of abandonment, didn’t give a shit. It told him Mahon was going to leave him one way or another. Either by dying now, or when he recovered, leaving Trent behind to go fight more psychotic shifters. Mahon might very likely die then, and Trent wouldn’t be able to help him, wouldn’t be there to shoot the fucking bastards trying to hurt Mahon.
“You’re not going without me, you hear?” Trent said in a low, angry voice. “You aren’t doing it. I fucking killed more shifters than I care to count today. I did it. I kept them from killing you. Don’t you think for one fucking moment that you don’t need me.”
He was so angry, the emotion he always resorted to when fearful of anything. Anger was better than showing that he was weak enough to be afraid.
“Trent, maybe calm down a little.”
Trent whirled on Joe. “Do you know how many I’ve killed now, in all? Because I can tell you, it’s a lot, and he thinks he’s going to leave me here to go take on more like him, and Diego’s old alpha, and whoever the fuck raised him? It ain’t going down like that.”
Joe scowled at Mahon. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“Guys, he’s hurt,” Diego chided. “I know you’re scared, Trent—”
Trent actually snarled at him.
Diego patted his check. “It’s okay to be scared when the person you love is hurt.”
Trent was going to die if his heart kept freezing up on him. Or perhaps it was his lungs—or his entire chest.
“Love does that to a person,” Diego said, like some wise mountaintop guru. “It makes you angry to see them hurt, to be unable to help. You did help, Trent. You kept him alive. Mahon couldn’t have beaten the odds he faced without you.” Diego looked at Mahon. “Something I think he’ll remember.”
“That’s what you meant about taking off, you asshole. I should be mad, but…” Joe sighed. “I get it.”
Trent was still trying to break out of the shock that had seized him. He loved Mahon. Diego had seen it. Why hadn’t he?
“Hurts.”
At Mahon’s softly spoken word, Trent shoved aside his own stupid issues and focused on Mahon. “Where? You didn’t say if you’re hurt anywhere else. Can you roll over?”
“N’this enough?” Mahon said in a thick voice.
Trent took that to mean, ain’t this enough, but he wasn’t certain he was correct. “It’s too much,” he told Mahon. “You shouldn’t be hurt at all.” Because Trent should have been faster, and he should have known which bear was his. He ignored Joe’s grumbling about being an idiot and began trying to get Mahon onto his uninjured side. “I need to make sure there’s not more gashes on your chest and stomach.”
“No. There’s…not.” Mahon winced then whimpered when he tried to move. “Fuck. Hurts.”
Joe moved to kneel beside Trent. “Taking him to the doctor’s going to result in lots of questions and probably more wildlife biologists out here, but I don’t think we have a choice.”
“We might.” Trent’s synapses were finally working. “We have that local anesthesia we used for the cattle when we’re dehorning them.” The one the vet let them buy and keep even though he wasn’t supposed to do so. Laws were looked at a little differently in cattle country. “Google it and see if we can use it on humans or on a bear.”
“I can do the stitches,” Diego offered. “I had to sew up my own a few times. I have a steady hand.”
Trent didn’t feel so bad about killing the shifters after Diego’s reminder of the abuse he’d suffered. “Okay. You all right with this, Mahon?”
“Yeah.” Mahon didn’t say anything else.
“We’re okay to use it.” Joe stood up. “We doing it out here? Flies are everywhere.”
Trent hadn’t noticed, but Joe was right. “No. Sorry, Mahon. We have to move you.”
It took all three of them and Mahon passed out a couple of times for a minute or two, but they got him into the trailer.
“On the bed,” Trent grunted out. His blankets could be replaced.
They got Mahon settled then Joe left with Diego to get the anesthesia and stitching material. They had kits for when the cattle needed a little nip up from small wounds. That was another reason they had the anesthesia as well. Trent’s friend Cassidy was a veterinarian. They’d met in college, fucked around some then decided they were both too toppy for each other. Cassidy supplied Trent with medicines he wouldn’t have left to other customers. Trent never abused them or his friendship. He wouldn’t have been mad if Cassidy cut him off on the meds, either. That was probably why Cassidy did it. That, and he was a good guy.
Mahon opened his eyes and looked at Trent. “You’re a mess.”
Trent cackled at that. “You oughta see yourself, lover.” Well damn it all. Words like that were just going to keep getting past him.
Mahon didn’t speak again, just watched him through barely opened eyes until Joe and Diego returned. Trent bent and kissed Mahon’s cheek then. “Much as I would like to stay here with you, I have to get started on getting rid of those carcasses.”
“’Kay
.” Mahon closed his eyes again.
Trent hated leaving him. He strode for the bedroom door.
Joe caught him by the shoulder. “Hey. I’ll take care of the shit outside. You numb him and sit in here while Diego stitches him up. I’ll text you the dosage I found online.”
Trent was tempted. “If you’ll get rid of the wolves. The bears will take all three of us, I think. So when Diego’s done in here…”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, those are some big fuckers. Might need to get the tractor over here and drag ’em out to the silo. Going to have another big fire going.”
“Hope we don’t get ticketed.” They hadn’t last time. Didn’t mean they’d get away with again, considering the drought and water restrictions.
“We’ll start the fire when it’s dark. Should help.” Joe left.
Trent went back to sit on the bed beside Mahon. His phone buzzed and he took it out. He and Diego washed Mahon’s wounds. Trent hated causing him pain. It had to be done. Then Trent applied the topical around the first of the injuries to be stitched.
After that, time blurred. Trent didn’t know how long it took to patch Mahon up. It was dark outside when he looked, though, and Mahon was out of it, sleeping.
“Look at the seams,” Diego said, pointing to his stitching. “The skin is already sealing together.”
Trent could see that. “How fast do bear shifters heal?”
Diego shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Bears tend to be very clannish, so no one knows a whole lot about them. All we do know are scary tales and rumors. The healing one looks like it’s true, so I guess it isn’t a rumor.”
“We should go help Joe with the bears.” Trent tried to work the kinks out of his back.
Diego tilted his head from side to side until his neck popped. “Gods, that felt great. And no need for that. Joe used the tractor to get them to the silo. He and I will take care of the rest of it. You take care of your guy. Joe wants to follow their tracks, and I can do it easily with my nose.” Diego surprised him then with a quick kiss to his cheek. “We’ll come back here when we’re done.”
“Take one of the shotguns and bullets, at least,” Trent called out.
Diego stopped at the gun cabinet. “The one on the end?”
“That’ll work. Bullets are in the top drawer on the left.”
Diego took the bullets out first, then the gun. “Joe left yours by the bed.”
Trent hadn’t even noticed it. “Thanks. For everything.”
Diego nodded again then left.
Trent sat down and watched Mahon sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Pain brought Mahon awake. He didn’t make a sound at first. Once he’d realized where he was—in Trent’s bed—he immediately sought Trent out.
And found him staring at Mahon, bags under his eyes, blood and gore still on his face, clothes and hat. “You should shower,” Mahon croaked out.
Trent dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders shook.
Mahon ignored the agony in his side. He sat up. The bed springs squeaked.
Trent whipped his head up. Tears streaked through the dirt and blood on his face. “You better get your ass back down on that bed!” he snapped. “I haven’t sat here watching over you all night just to have you hurt yourself.”
Despite Trent’s tone and his words, Mahon knew he wasn’t mad. Trent was worried, and scared, and the latter especially always brought out Trent’s temper.
And Trent had cried for him.
Mahon lay back. “I’m sorry.” For many things, especially for making such a strong man break down.
Trent swiped at his cheeks and stood up. “You aren’t leaving here without me.”
Mahon remembered him saying the same thing yesterday. “Okay.”
“Promise me,” Trent demanded.
“I promise.” Mahon held Trent’s gaze until Trent finally nodded.
“I’ll shower, but first you’re going to assure me you can hold my shotgun steady. Or semi-steady.” Trent handed him the weapon. “Joe and Diego are out taking care of the cattle. It’s just us here, and I have to know you’re as safe as you can be while I’m in the bathroom.”
“You didn’t sleep at all?” Mahon asked, fitting the shotgun to his shoulder.
“Have you ever shot one of these?” Trent returned with instead of answering. “You’re holding it wrong. You’d have a bruise that hurt like a mother if you fired it like that.” Trent helped him position the weapon right. “There. And you look through the scope if you need to. If not, don’t. There’s five rounds in it, one in the chamber, the other four here.” He touched the gun. “Shoot until it stops moving.”
Mahon had a hazy memory of Trent doing just that to the last bear trying to kill him. “I’ve got it. Go on. Shower, get food, whatever you need to do.”
“Food would be nice. You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?”
“I could eat,” Mahon admitted.
Trent gave him one more look then left the room.
Mahon lowered the weapon. He listened to the water running, and after a moment, to Trent’s voice as he began singing in the shower. Mahon hadn’t heard him do that before, and it endeared the man to him even more.
Mahon may have drifted off a little. He became aware of Trent’s footsteps in time to snatch up the weapon and hold it properly.
Trent came through the bedroom door and rolled his eyes when he saw Mahon. “You don’t think I’m going to believe you held it like that all along? Because I don’t. And I didn’t mean for you to, either. Just wanted you to have it right at hand if you needed it.”
Mahon set the gun down. “I wouldn’t have lied.”
“Of course not.” Trent set a tray on Mahon’s stomach. “Never thought you would. Is this okay or is it too close to where you were clawed?”
“It’s fine.” Mahon’s mouth watered. There was bacon—lots and lots of bacon—along with sausage patties, fried eggs and waffles. A container of syrup and a small bowl of butter made up the rest of the meal.
“You get started on this. I’ll get us some orange juice.” Trent left him again but returned with the promised drinks.
Mahon had dug in, taking up one of the forks. Trent joined him, eating off the same platter. They shared the food, and even hurting, Mahon thought it was his most favorite meal ever.
“Let me take care of this. Try to sleep.”
Mahon took a hold of Trent’s wrist. “You need sleep, too.”
Trent didn’t reply. He tugged his wrist free and carried the tray from the room.
Mahon meant to stay awake, but the next thing he knew, the room was cast in shadows, and Trent was sitting beside the bed in a chair, watching him once again.
“How do you feel?” Trent asked.
Mahon moved slowly, with great care. “Better. Doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier.”
“I looked at your wounds. At the rate you’re healing, they’ll be cleared up in a couple of days—on the outside, at least,” Trend added. “I’m guessing the inside heals up just as fast?”
“Yeah, should be the same.” Mahon started to sit up.
Trent was at his side in a flash. “Let me help.”
They got Mahon situated in a more upright position. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Trent sat by him on the bed. “Don’t scare me like that again, Mahon. I thought I’d lost you.”
Mahon pulled Trent down until his head rested on Mahon’s chest. “I’ll do everything in my power not to, okay?” It was the most he could promise. Mahon nuzzled the top of Trent’s head. “You need to sleep. You’ve been sitting here watching me for over twenty-four hours straight.”
“M’not tired,” Trent protested.
Mahon held him and was almost asleep himself when he had a flashback to Diego outside, standing behind Trent. Mahon knew it wasn’t his imagination, either. Diego had said Trent loved him. Not exactly like that, yet close enough.
Trent hadn’t denied it, and he’d called Mahon love
.
And cried over him, for him.
Trent did love him. No one else ever had, not in Mahon’s entire life. He’d always been a thing, a tool, not someone who was worthy of love.
But Trent deemed him worthy. Trent had killed for him, had cried for him, had cared for him with no regard to his own health.
Mahon knew what that joyous sensation he got every time he looked at Trent. He loved the stubborn, sarcastic man, too.
He was going to tell him so, but a soft snore came from the man.
Mahon was content with holding Trent while they both slept.
* * * *
He felt much better the next morning. Mahon woke up and was able to stretch—and why wasn’t Trent in bed with him? Mahon opened his eyes and saw Diego sitting in the chair by the bed.
“Sorry, just me,” Diego said, a half-smile on his face. “Trent insisted on helping Joe today. Said he didn’t want to leave us to do it all. He looked better, like he slept.”
“He did.” Mahon twisted his torso slightly. “Don’t feel so sore today.”
Diego gestured at him. “Well, that’s probably because you’re almost all healed. I need to take the stitches out before the skin grows around them.”
“That sounds like it’d suck.”
“Not as bad as getting mauled by a bear.” Diego stood up then walked around the bed. He examined Mahon’s wounds. “Yup, need to take all the stitches out.”
After they were removed, Mahon wanted to get out of bed. Diego hovered in case Mahon stumbled but Mahon had no problem other than some dull pain. “I gotta pee.”
“Trent said you hadn’t gone since yesterday.” Diego opened the bedroom door for him.
Mahon remembered. “Yeah, there’s nothing more fun that pissing in a can.”
“At least you could piss. Be grateful for that. Do what you need to and holler if you need me. I’ll be warming up breakfast.”
Mahon brushed his teeth and washed his face after he peed. A shower would have been nice, but he was hungry and food would be even better. He left the bathroom and found Diego in the kitchen.
Texas and Tarantulas Page 11
