Brendan's Fate (Wolves' Heat)

by Odessa Lynne

  “You’d move all this to Earth just because I don’t like it here?”

  Trey paused at the door. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what mates do.”

  “You want me to submit as your mate,” Brendan said, remembering one of their earliest conversations.

  “You’ve already submitted as my mate, but yes, once you have your memories again, you will have to do it again.”

  “Wait—wait,” Brendan said, shaking his head. “I did what?”

  “I mated you the night we first came onto one of my ships. I should have waited, but I couldn’t resist the instinct to claim you then. So we are mated. I’m Alpha, I need no witness to make my claim.”

  “So we’re like—boyfriends or something now, we’re not just fucking around while I wait on getting my memories back?”

  Trey’s eyes glimmered under the light, and his eyebrows lowered with his frown. “Fucking around? We’ve fucked, but my intention was always to mate you. I made that clear. I told you that after you submitted to my rule, I would take you to mate for as long as I pleased, but—I made a mistake mating you too soon. I didn’t expect—”

  Trey cut himself off and his frown deepened as he stared at Brendan.

  “What do you mean?” Brendan demanded. He could see they’d had another—possibly their biggest—miscommunication here. “You didn’t expect what? We’ve fucked. We mated—whatever that really means. But if it was going to happen anyway, what’s it matter when?”

  “I can’t explain this to you now. I have duties.”

  “Oh, come on. Something’s up and you’re just going to walk away and leave me wondering what the hell’s going on?”

  Trey’s mouth tightened. “This is complicated and you don’t understand.”

  “Then be blunt. I already don’t know too much. I can’t sit here all day going over this shit in my head until it drives me crazy.”

  “We are mated. But there are temporary mates and permanent mates and several variations between. There is only one true mate.”

  “And?”

  Trey stared at him, unmoving, not even a flex of his fingers to give Brendan a clue what he was thinking.

  “Come on.” Brendan took a step toward Trey.

  Trey’s eyes seemed to catch on Brendan’s. “I only ever meant to take you to mate until I found a true mate. I didn’t expect—”

  Brendan made a leap in logic. “Are you trying to say that I’m—”

  “No,” Trey said, and turned away from Brendan toward the door, his movement lacking the smooth control Brendan usually associated with everything Trey did. “I will not say that.”

  The door opened.

  “Hey, wait,” Brendan said.

  Trey left and the doors closed swiftly behind him.

  Brendan stared at the dull black wall where the seam of the doors had sealed to an almost imperceptible line, Trey’s words sitting heavy on his chest. He hadn’t really wanted to think about how temporary this could all be.

  When he got his memories back—if he had sense enough to choose to submit to Trey—he had no idea how long Trey would keep him around. And what would happen to him after Trey got tired of him?

  Would Trey send him away? Or—or pass him off to someone else, because of who Brendan was?

  The thought crawled down his spine. He had very little knowledge of these wolves and he had no idea how he would be treated when he had his memories back. What if Trey wasn’t the only wolf who would demand Brendan submit?

  Chapter 16

  “What’d you say your name was again?” Brendan asked the wolf beside him at the long table made of a similar wood as that used in most of the furnishings in Trey’s rooms.

  This was Brendan’s third day on the big ship with Trey. He hadn’t seen a lot of Trey in that time, and he’d been hesitant to follow the lean wolf who had appeared at the door earlier out into the corridor.

  This wolf had had to use a small panel in the wall to contact Trey, who had looked at Brendan with a raised eyebrow when Brendan had argued about why sending some strange wolf to fetch him was about as smart as leaving the goddamned door unlocked all night knowing there was a rogue faction of wolves out for Trey’s blood.

  That had been yesterday’s discovery, when Brendan had leaned against the wall, and the door had opened behind him unexpectedly, leaving him to almost fall flat on his ass in front of one of Trey’s wolves—the one who’d carried Matthew away.

  He still remembered those brilliant amber eyes flickering toward him at every opportunity the whole time the wolf had carried on an obscure conversation with Trey about “watchers” and their developing tie to the human renegades, until finally Trey had said, harshly, “He is mine.”

  The staring had stopped immediately, with a formal-looking nod and a firmly-voiced apology.

  Still a sore point, that, but Brendan had taken a deep breath and waved his hand over the image of Trey’s face and watched the veo screen—or the wolves’ technologically advanced equivalent—fade back into the wall.

  Then he’d followed this wolf out into the ship and tried to keep his awe in check while they made their way to wherever it was they were now.

  The room’s large table had several empty seats still, but most of them had filled up.

  Brendan recognized the wolf who had helped Fletcher rescue Brendan sitting at the far end, along with the one that had taken Matthew. Craig sat across from Brendan, and he hadn’t spared Brendan more than a dismissive glance when he’d taken his seat.

  Brendan was the only human in the room and he had no idea why he was here.

  The wolf beside him replied, “Paetarikeille ah se Skiatarweaieskg.”

  Brendan stared at him.

  “I suggest you pick a syllable from my name that you can pronounce.”

  “Say it again.”

  The wolf tilted his head.

  “Your name. I can’t even remember the syllables I heard. Say it again so I can pick one.”

  “Ah.” The wolf said, then he repeated the tightly-spaced syllables of his name, slowly.

  Brendan frowned. “Pete or Rick,” he said. “That’s all I can come up with.”

  The wolf grinned, the glint of his teeth catching Brendan’s eye.

  Brendan wasn’t going to lie to himself. This wolf’s grin was fucking intimidating. He swallowed and glanced away, and saw Trey entering the room.

  “Rick,” the wolf was saying. “I like it. It has the sound of a strong name. I’ll use it with the other humans from now on.”

  Brendan nodded absently, watching Trey, who hadn’t taken his gaze from Brendan.

  Rick noticed Trey and pushed back from the table, chair scraping loud against the floor, and the others did the same. Brendan followed their lead because what else was he supposed to do?

  Heads nodded low toward Trey as he passed each one of the wolves on his way to the end of the table.

  Trey continued to stare at Brendan with an intensity that sent his pulse racing. Brendan caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and let his gaze wander for a brief moment. Everyone stared at him, some cold-eyed and unforgiving, others merely curious. Brendan’s stomach tightened. He had no idea what he was doing wrong.

  When Trey was only a few chairs away from where Brendan stood, Rick leaned in and whispered fiercely to him, “You belong to Alpha. Submit.”

  Brendan clenched his fist at his side but immediately nodded his head the same way he’d seen the others do. Trey’s impassive gaze softened.

  Trey stopped at the end of the table and the others retook their seats. Brendan sat, relieved he hadn’t fucked up. But Trey should’ve told him what to expect, dammit. If Brendan had messed this up, Trey would’ve had no one to blame but himself.

  Trey was the last to sit, his hands spread wide on the table’s deep, dark surface, claws fully extended for everyone to see.

  Seeing those claws like that brought to mind Trey cupping his g
enitals, those claws so close to Brendan’s flesh that he could almost feel them caging his cock through his jeans. The bright hot memory made Brendan’s jeans stretch uncomfortably tight across his dick.

  Brendan shifted in his seat and barely resisted the urge to adjust himself in his pants.

  Trey started to discuss something Brendan didn’t understand with Craig, while wolves younger than any Brendan had seen before—or at least since his memories had been blocked—came in carrying platters of food. Two boys and a girl walked around the table setting flat square plates in front of everyone, including Brendan.

  Rick side-eyed him. “Is your chair uncomfortable?”

  “What? No.” Rick would have to be some kind of hyper-observant wolf.

  “Your squirming is very distracting.”

  “God. It’s nothing.”

  “If your penis is—”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Brendan muttered.

  “Adjust yourself. I’m sure Alpha doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “God. Shut up,” Brendan said at the same time.

  Rick stared at Brendan, a deep furrow above his straight nose. “I’ve offended you.”

  “No, just—I want you to pretend you don’t have any idea what’s wrong with me instead of trying to be all helpful. That’s all. This kind of shit is embarrassing and I don’t need it rubbed in my face that I get a hard-on for your alpha’s—”

  A bulbous glass of clear liquid plopped down in front of Brendan and splashed a few drops of liquid across the table and onto the back of his hand.

  Fuck. How had he forgotten there were kids here?

  Brendan shut his mouth before he said something else totally inappropriate and rubbed the back his hand on his t-shirt. Then he raised his hand and sniffed. An acrid burn hit the back of his tongue. He looked askance at the glass of liquid.

  Rick looked at him curiously but didn’t say anything else.

  A young voice cut through the air from across the table. “Why does that one smell like First Alpha, but all stinky?”

  Craig’s voice rumbled from across the table in the wolves’ language and Brendan looked up to see him brushing his hand over the head of a very young boy with vibrant blue eyes and short, dark hair. The kid grimaced and showed his teeth and Craig and the wolf sitting next to him laughed.

  Brendan might not be that good at reading the expressions on the adult’s faces, but the boy—his mortification was a lot easier to see. The kid hurried away from the table, red-faced.

  Craig glanced around and caught Brendan staring.

  Brendan turned his attention away from Craig with a flush riding up into his cheeks.

  He wished to God he could’ve got up and left to. He had no idea what Craig had told the kid, but he was pretty damn confident it was him they’d been talking about. Stinky? What the hell?

  “Your offspring are just as bold as you ever were,” the wolf next to Craig said in the wolves’ language, loud enough for Brendan to hear.

  Brendan tried not to be obvious in his eavesdropping.

  “Yes, and trouble too,” Craig said. “His kin says he’ll be ready to take on real duties soon and I’ll have to find a pack for him where he can be useful.”

  But no—not kin. Mother.

  “He’s from your third?”

  “Fourth. He’s one of three with Uereaietheil ah se Lhiatarseaiesth.”

  Brendan struggled to unwind the sounds of that name into something meaningful but failed.

  “I’ll take him. I have two from my third that need a pack. Take two and I’ll do the same for you.”

  Brendan looked around as one of the young wolves put a large platter down in front of Trey, food piled high. Meats and cheeses, stew and bread, crackers, and—raw cabbage leaves?

  Brendan might not remember if he liked cabbage, but the smell of the stew made his mouth water. He hadn’t had anything hot since—well, he actually couldn’t remember. Days at least.

  His blocked memories had so far proven to be exclusively those that related to him and other people; he still recognized technology and food, and he’d known how to hold a gun as soon as he put his hands on one.

  Brendan glanced up in time to see Craig give the other wolf a grave nod. “Agreed. His mother will be happy for the connection to your pack.”

  “As will the mother of mine.” The other wolf nodded just as gravely as Craig had and Brendan wondered what he’d just witnessed.

  Trey leaned toward Brendan. “You’ll share my food.”

  Brendan glanced around. No one else was sharing anything. “I don’t get my own?”

  “You’re my mate.”

  “I’m the woman, then. That’s what you’re saying.” Brendan wasn’t sure where the reference came from, but the bright hot anger that came with it felt ugly and old.

  Trey stilled, almost as if he could sense what roiled beneath the surface of Brendan’s words. “You aren’t female so why would you say you’re the woman?”

  The question seemed sincere, but Brendan had to bite his tongue not to lash out. He couldn’t understand the vibrating anger that sat under his breastbone but it was there nevertheless, the fiery burn of it riding up into his throat.

  “You’re not better than me,” Brendan said, softly, and he wasn’t sure for whose benefit he said it. “I’m not your woman or your slave or your—”

  “You are my mate and for that, you’ll have the submission and respect of everyone who follows my rule as long as you remain my mate.”

  The chatter around the table quieted, until Brendan couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his own heartbeat, blood rushing in his ears.

  “You can’t do that,” Brendan said. “They’ll hate me. When I have my memories—if I choose—they’ll hate me and nothing you say will stop that.”

  “That’s not our way.”

  “What about all these other wolves—the ones chasing after us in those woods? They hated me. Enough that they wanted to kill you just for protecting me from them.” Brendan’s voice shook with the force he put behind his words. “You’re a fool if you think just because you say something that makes it true. People hate. That’s just the way it is.”

  He shouldn’t have said any of it. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. With Trey’s wolves all around, and the silence that held the room, everyone heard him.

  Trey’s lips pulled back from his teeth and his claws scratched across the table. Brendan wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself backhanded across the floor.

  He flinched when Trey’s claws hooked under his chin, but even as Brendan raised his head to keep the claws from digging into his flesh, the claws retracted and Trey’s fingers took hold of his jaw.

  “Brendan, you shouldn’t be afraid of me. We are mated. I won’t hurt you for speaking an opinion—uninformed and ill-advised as it is. We’re a peaceful people, as much as we can be while still honoring our instincts.”

  Brendan clenched his hand in his lap. He reached up and took hold of Trey’s wrist with his other hand. “I want to believe you, but—I don’t. I can’t. There’s that thing where you still might have to kill me. It does something to a person. But I’m sorry for calling you a fool. I get these feelings sometimes, and I can’t control what I say. I—” Brendan let his gaze skip away from Trey’s very direct stare.

  He caught sight of a sliver of Earth and Moon through the tall, narrow window directly behind Trey.

  “I think I might have a few emotional problems.” He exhaled on a rough laugh. “I just don’t remember them.”

  “Humans are a confusing species.”

  Brendan scraped the side of his cheek with his knuckles, releasing some of his tension in another rough laugh. “God. The irony.”

  “Irony I understand,” Trey said. He picked up the platter and held it out to Brendan. “Traditionally, it’s our way to offer first choice to our mates. Take whatever you like.”

  Brendan looked at the food, but hesitated
. “If you don’t have enough will someone bring you more?”

  “Of course.”

  Brendan took the whole bowl of stew. And all the crackers. He skipped the cheese, since he hadn’t liked it the last time.

  Trey’s mouth curved up in what looked like a crooked grin.

  “I’m hungry,” Brendan said, pushing at the platter to let Trey know he was done. Trey could have the cabbage. Brendan had no urge to take any for himself.

  He watched as Trey rolled one big leaf and bit it in half.

  “You like that?” Brendan asked.

  “It reminds me of a plant from my world. If not for that—”

  Trey made a face. Brendan interpreted the look to mean “it tastes kind of like that shit we ate in the woods” even though Trey didn’t actually say anything. Maybe Brendan could learn to read these wolves’ expressions after all.

  He saw Fletcher’s wolf digging into his own stew with his fingers. Brendan looked down at the shallow bowl in front of him.

  “I’d offer to feed you,” Trey said, “even though the heat has passed, so you’d feel more secure about your status, but I’ve been warned that your reaction is more likely to be offense than pride.”

  Brendan looked up. “Is that a joke? You have a sense of humor?”

  Trey’s gaze remained steady.

  “So that’s not a joke.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” Brendan dug his fingers into the thick, warm stew and scooped up a bite-sized piece of meat that he shoved into his mouth.

  Were his fingers clean? He couldn’t even remember when he’s washed them last. He tried to care but he was too hungry. The stew tasted savory and a little salty—and he didn’t think he’d had anything so good in—in—hell, he didn’t know. But he licked his fingers clean and went back in for another bite.

  Trey gestured toward Craig. “Craeigoer mated Ian.”

  Brendan snapped a cracker in half and used it to scoop up his next bite, looking up over the bowl at Trey. Trey seemed to be waiting for a reaction.

  Mouth half full, Brendan said, “Yeah?” and shoveled in another bite.

  “Wentarki mated Devon.”

  Brendan paused for a second, not sure who Trey was talking about, until a memory flashed. Fletcher was Devon. So whatever wolf Trey was talking about must be—