Rough Ride [The Exiled 3] (Siren Publishing: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection)

by Lynn Hagen

  Morgan needed answers, and he wasn’t going to get them sitting in this castle. He’d hovered in the living room for a while, making sure no hounds were outside. He watched Nazaryth watch the monitors and ignored the looks the other winged beasts gave him. Strange looks was something Morgan was used to, so he ignored them. As soon as he could get out of the castle, Morgan was going home to ask his mother who his father was and what the hell was going on. She had to be the key to all of this.

  Renato had ingested his blood, and it had done something to him. He kept saying he was fine, but Morgan didn’t believe that. Renato hadn’t done the horizontal mambo on the bed for nothing. Something had happened.

  It took a few hours before everyone in the living room cleared out. Morgan checked on Renato to find his mate asleep. Even in his sleep, Renato appeared exhausted. Standing by the bed, Morgan stared down at the handsome man. It felt as if everything around him was falling apart, yet when he looked at Renato, peace settled inside of him. He no longer felt the need to drink or to self-destruct. It was as if his mate was his anchor, his shelter in this storm.

  Morgan would find the answers he was looking for and then return to Renato. His mate deserved to know what the blood had done to him. Morgan deserved to know the truth. He just hoped his mother gave him those answers.

  They’d never truly gotten along. His relationship with his mom had been shaky at best. She’d always kept her distance from him, emotionally more than physically. Whereas Jaycee’s house had been filled with love and laughter, Morgan’s had been filled with aloofness. His mother had provided for him, but happiness and love had been lacking.

  Slipping from the bedroom, Morgan checked the living room to make sure it was still empty before he hurried through the door that led down to the plant room. He made it out of the castle without incident and then started toward Pride Pack Valley.

  Morgan sat at his mother’s table, trying desperately to breathe. His heart was thumping wildly as he tried to digest what she’d just told him. “And you didn’t think telling me was important?”

  “I wanted you to have as normal a life as you could.” She hadn’t changed one bit. She still acted aloof, as if not telling him that his father was a hellhound was no big deal.

  “It’s been anything but normal!” Morgan was losing his grip. He sucked in a breath and told himself that yelling at his mother was not only wrong but wouldn’t solve anything. He was both angry and hurt. She hadn’t hugged him, cried, or acted like any mother would when seeing her son after thinking he was dead.

  She’d just let him in and asked where he’d been. He should have been used to her lack of emotions, but it still hurt like a bitch.

  “How could I have known that you would be bitten and then lose your memory?” She tried to grab his hand, but Morgan snatched it away. His head spun as he glanced around the kitchen he’d known his entire life.

  Nothing seemed real. Nothing around him seemed familiar anymore. Morgan had been through too much, his life altering when a lot of things could have been avoided if she’d just told him the truth. “Who is he?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she had a look that said she’d rather chew nails then talk about this. “It’s not important, Morgan. He hasn’t been a part of your life.”

  “How is it not important?” Morgan asked. “Did you know what he was when you two…got together?”

  “No.” She quickly glanced away. His mother was lying.

  “You knew he was from hell and you slept with him?” This was all too much. Morgan gripped the back of the kitchen chair to steady himself. This was so unbelievable that he actually wanted to laugh. He would have had his anger not taken hold. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the chair harder.

  “Look, the past is the past,” she said, glaring at him. “Why worry about it? You’re fine now. Your memory is back, and you know who you are.”

  “Fine?” Everything was far from fine. Renato might be sick because of Morgan’s blood, and his mother stood there as if she hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. He opened his mouth and closed it, gritting his teeth to stop himself from saying what was really on his mind.

  “Yes, fine,” she scoffed. “You’re here, and nothing bad has happened since you’ve returned home. So I didn’t tell you about who your real father was. Get over it, Morgan.”

  She turned to leave the kitchen, and Morgan grabbed her arm, forcing himself not to shake her. “Do you know anything about hound blood?”

  She crinkled her nose. “Why would I?”

  “Gee, I don’t know, because I’m pretty sure there’s more you haven’t told me.” He let her go. Morgan used to crave any touch, any attention she would give him. Now, touching her brought him no comfort. In fact, it sickened him. She was his mother, and Morgan had tried everything he could to make her proud of him. He’d been a straight A student in school. He’d joined sports teams, although he’d sucked at them, and he’d always obeyed her rules. Yet receiving praise from her or just a tiny amount of encouragement was like hoping to hit the lottery.

  He hadn’t received any praise or encouragement then, and he didn’t want it now. All Morgan wanted was answers. He needed them.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she said scathingly. “Just as I’m sure there are a lot of things I don’t know about you. Everyone has their secrets, but as far as your father, if you must know, it was a one-night stand. The only thing I’m certain of is what he was. Anything else, you’ll have to find the answers somewhere else.”

  Morgan scrubbed a hand over his face as she stormed out of the kitchen. He was no closer to learning what he needed to know than when he’d left the castle. He’d thought for certain that she was the key. God, he should’ve known better. How many times was he going to hold out hope that his mother would miraculously change and become halfway decent? How many times would he wish she would hug him and tell him that she loved him and was proud of him?

  “You’re a damn fool,” he mumbled to himself as he let himself out the back door, never intending on returning to this house again. There was nothing here for him. With a heavy heart and anger swimming in his bones, Morgan headed down the driveway.

  He pulled out his phone and called Kyle. His friend answered on the first ring.

  “Thanks a lot for abandoning me,” Kyle complained loudly.

  “I didn’t abandon you. Renato told me where you were and that you were safe. I meant to call you sooner, but…damn, Kyle. You wouldn’t believe the crazy crap I’ve been through.”

  “I don’t like it here,” Kyle said. “I don’t know anyone, and this guy name Jasper keeps trying to get me to play pool. I don’t know how to play pool.”

  “Wing it, Kyle,” Morgan said. “I promise I’ll come over there as soon as—” A shot of tension sizzled down his spine as the air around him grew cold. Morgan slightly shook as he stopped and glanced around. It had been foolish of him to leave the protection of the castle, but he’d been desperate. There were hellhounds after him, and Morgan was out in the open as if the world was as right as rain.

  “As soon as what?” Kyle asked. “You better get here, or I swear to god I’m gonna shove that pool stick up Jasper’s ass.”

  “I have to call you back.” Morgan hung up and slid his phone into his pocket, glancing around to find the source of his unease.

  A low growl rumbled in the air, but no one was on the street. He turned, glanced behind him, but saw nothing. He felt something, though. Morgan staggered as black hairs sprouted along his arms. His heart tripled in beat. His canines punched downward, and his claws started to elongate.

  Something was forcing him to shift.

  Morgan gasped and hurried down the street, but he was still shifting. His bones felt as if they were breaking. Morgan hissed as he started to sweat. He was both hot and cold and couldn’t understand why.

  “No, not here. Not out in the open.” Morgan tried to run, but the pain made him stumble like a drunk. He r
ested a hand on a telephone pole, smashing his eyes closed as he tried to concentrate, tried to force his beast back down. It wasn’t as if he had practice, and he felt his hound close to breaking free.

  The growl grew closer, but Morgan still didn’t see anyone.

  And then one man appeared out of thin air, and then another, and another. Soon there were half a dozen men surrounding him.

  “Did you think you could get away?” The man directly in front of Morgan tsked. “Someone important is looking for you, and you’re coming with me.”

  It was one of the men that had broken into his apartment. “Over my dead body.”

  Dizziness overtook him. Fighting against the shift was taking its toll. The hair on his body grew thicker.

  Renato, I need you. I’m surrounded by hellhounds, and they’re forcing me to shift out in the open.

  Tell me where you are.

  Morgan’s knees nearly buckled with relief. In town. Two blocks south of Theo’s Bar and Grill.

  We’re on our way.

  Morgan’s head grew silent, but he’d felt the intense rage. Renato was pissed, and some of that anger was no doubt aimed toward him. He’d snuck out when he knew trouble was on his heels. He’d put himself in harm’s way, and Morgan just knew Renato would deal with him if he got out of this alive.

  “Normally, I would just kill you,” the guy said as he moved closer. “But since my orders are to bring you in alive, this is your lucky day.” The man smirked, and Morgan felt the evil in the guy down to his toes. “Or maybe your hell is just about to begin.”

  The other men snickered. “Good pun, Morbius,” one of them said.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Morbius snapped. The men grew silent. He turned toward Morgan. “You gonna come quietly, or am I about to have a little fun with you first?”

  It was in his eyes. Morbius was praying Morgan resisted. All Morgan had to do was hold out long enough for Renato to get there. He hoped he had that much time.

  “You think I don’t know you summoned your mate?” Morbius tapped his temple. “I know about the whole talking to each other in your head thing.”

  It shocked Morgan that the guy even knew he’d mated.

  Morbius wrinkled his nose. “I can smell him all over you. I don’t know how you can stand to have one of those beasts touch you.”

  “Better than one of you beasts touching me.” Morgan backed away, but there was nowhere to go. There was a man behind him, one on each side of him, and Morbius in front of him.

  Two things happened at once. Morbius closed the distance and grabbed Morgan’s arm and Morgan shifted into his hound form, biting the man’s hand until he tasted blood.

  “You bitch!” Morbius snatched his hand away as the other men moved in, arms outstretched.

  Morgan spun in a slow circle, growling. If he were about to be taken, he wouldn’t go without killing at least two of the men and maiming the others. Fuck if he would roll over and show his belly. He’d slice theirs open first.

  Confusion filled Morgan when the men started to back away. Not that he was complaining, but kidnapping someone usually meant the kidnapper moved closer to the kidnappee.

  The ear-shattering growl rent the air.

  “It’s not us you should be afraid of,” Morbius said. “Xaphan sent his mutt to fetch you. And let me tell you, Alastair is worse than all of us combined.” The guy shrugged. “A little spoiled, too, if you ask me.”

  Morgan slowly turned, and a faint whimper escaped. There, behind him, stood a dog so big that he looked the size of a baby elephant. His eyes glowed red. His teeth dripped with saliva. His head was hung low, his ears flat, and dark smoke escaped his nostrils in thick plumes.

  This was it. Morgan was about to die. There was no way he could defeat this beast. The Rottweiler was three times Morgan’s size. Even if he could get a few good bites in, the other men would more than likely interfere to ensure Morgan didn’t get away.

  Morbius looked cocky. “Just in case you didn’t know, once a hound gets your scent, he has it for life. He won’t stop hunting you until one of you is dead.”

  Morgan hadn’t known that. He wished he was still ignorant of the fact. His nails clicked along the concrete as he backed away, terrified. Morgan growled, as if the warning would do him any good. If the hound could laugh, he probably would have. Admittedly, the creature in front of him was damn impressive. And scary. He was a whole lot of scary.

  “Just give up,” Morbius said. “You’ll never outrun Alastair, and fighting him is laughable.”

  If Morgan was in his human form, he would tell Morbius to fuck off. But he couldn’t speak, so he growled at the man instead.

  The guy laughed. “If Xaphan hadn’t taken such a keen interest in you, I’d keep you as my pet. You’re adorable with that pathetic growl.”

  Before Morgan could send a mental “Fuck you” to the guy, Alastair attacked. Morgan yelped as he went down, rolling onto his back and then twisting to his side. The hound snapped at his throat, and Morgan fought to keep it out of the beast’s way. Hot breath skidded across his muzzle. Saliva dripped onto his snout. Sharp teeth were the only thing Morgan saw, and damn if they didn’t terrify him.

  “The more you struggle, the more aggressive he becomes,” Morbius warned.

  Morgan stilled. He was pinned down, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Aw, I was hoping you gave him hell,” Morbius said. “It’s so much fun to watch such a pitiful attempt.” The guy squatted next to Morgan. “I thought you’d have more fight in you than that.”

  When the guy reached for him, Morgan clamped down on his hand. Morbius cursed, tried to yank free, but Morgan fought to keep his hold.

  “You stupid mutt,” Morbius said as he continued to struggle. “I’m gonna make you suffer for this.”

  Over the guy’s shoulder, Morgan saw the winged beasts flying toward him. He would’ve taken a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty of their flight, but Morbius started punching Morgan’s head.

  “Let me go, you fucking prick.”

  Alastair snarled again, but Morgan knew he wouldn’t be killed. The orders were to bring him in alive. That didn’t mean the hound wouldn’t inflict damage, and that was something Morgan wanted to avoid at all costs.

  As if he’d finally spotted the winged beasts, Alastair backed away and started barking. The sound was so deep and vibrating that the alarm of the car closest to them went off. The hound no longer had him pinned down. Morgan twisted to his feet and bit down harder on Morbius’s hand. Blood filled Morgan’s mouth as he snapped his head from side to side, trying his best to inflict as much damage as he could.

  Renato was the first to land. With a large sword in his hands, he charged after the hellhounds blocking his path. Morgan watched as his mate drove the blade directly into the hound’s head. The guy crumpled as the other three winged beasts joined the fray.

  The mark. That was what Renato was talking about. His mate struck the blade deep, and Morgan inwardly grimaced.

  “Sic him, Alastair!” Morbius snarled.

  Morgan yelped loudly when the hound sank his teeth into his backside. He released Morbius’s hand and tried to scurry out of the hound’s grasp, but Alastair had a firm lock on him. Renato flew toward Morgan and stabbed his blade into the beast as all three of them vanished.

  Chapter Ten

  Renato was thrown against the scarred wall as soon as he popped into the room. He crashed into a table as the air was knocked from his lungs. Fuck, that had hurt.

  “You brought a winged beast with you?” someone bellowed.

  Renato’s head snapped up when he noticed a well-dressed man standing by a set of windows. The guy wore a dark suit, shiny black shoes, and his blond hair fell in soft waves around his neck and over his forehead. Whoever the guy was, he was handsome, but he was also evil.

  It was his flaming red eyes that clued Renato in.

  Morbius backed away. It was the first time Renato had ever seen fear in the hel
lhound’s eyes. “He stabbed Alastair. Your pet had his teeth in Morgan when I grabbed the half-breed and vanished. We were all connected. It wasn’t my damn fault.”

  The stranger petted the hellhound on the head as he looked toward Renato. “If you ever contract a hellhound out, make sure he isn’t a halfwit.”

  Renato smelled demon and somehow knew this one was powerful. He didn’t care, though. All Renato wanted to do was get to Morgan. His zaterio was lying on the floor, and in his human form. The hound no longer had a bite on Morgan, but Alastair was too close, and that made Renato not only livid but terrified that the hellhound would attack again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  With a shove, Renato got to his feet, baring his fangs. He rushed to get to Morgan, but with a flick of the demon’s hand, he was slung backward, crashing once again into the wall. It took a second for him to catch his breath, but once he did, he asked, “Who the hell are you, and what do you want with my mate?”

  “Mate?” The demon laughed, showing off a set of pearly-white teeth as he looked from Renato to Morgan. “Which means he’s all the more powerful. I couldn’t have set this up better myself.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Renato repeated. His gaze flickered from the demon to Morgan. His mate was on his back, staring wide-eyed at Alastair. Renato not only saw but felt Morgan’s terror. He had to get to his zaterio.

  “Forgive me.” The demon pressed the palm of his hand to his chest. “I am known as Xaphan.”

  Renato’s heart sank. “Xaphan? The fallen angel who rebelled against Lucifer?”

  The man seemed pleased from the smirk on his face. “I see you know your demonology.”

  Renato wasn’t that well versed when it came to demons, but he’d heard of this one. The guy had a reputation for his skills with fire. The scorched walls and floor were proof, along with those freaky fiery eyes. “And what exactly do you want with my mate?”