Things started to quiet down soon, though, which Mason guessed must be due to the intervention of the spirit wolf mates. Much to Mason’s glee, his mate began to calm down as well. At last, Hewitt’s erratic breathing slowed, and his glassy-looking eyes cleared, focusing on Mason. “Mason? Devon? What happened?”
Mason could have kissed Hewitt at hearing those sweet words. In fact, he decided to do just that and pressed his mouth to Hewitt’s. The witch gasped, obviously surprised at the sudden assault. Even so, Hewitt didn’t protest. On the contrary, he surrendered to the kiss, his tongue meeting Mason’s with uncharacteristic savagery. Naturally, Devon wouldn’t be denied either, and as soon as Mason broke away from Hewitt, he took over, delving into a hot-as-hell lip-lock.
It was in that moment that Mason realized they were all basically naked. Hewitt just had on the remnants of the suit he’d formerly been dressed in, while Mason and Devon were completely nude. The proximity of their bodies was not in any way conducive to rational thought. Mason allowed his hands to roam over Hewitt’s beloved form, taking in the perfect planes and contours, greedily mapping every inch of skin. Hewitt released a low growl under his breath. His eyes were wild with the lust only a feral could feel. “Come on, lovers. Fuck me.”
Mason would have very much liked to do just that, but the molten heat in Hewitt’s gaze and the almost animalistic response to the touches reminded him of the circumstances. “Calm down, babe,” he told Hewitt. “You were hurt. Do you remember?”
They didn’t let go of Hewitt, but they stopped the intimate, far-too-addicting touches. Much to Mason’s relief, Hewitt’s gaze started to clear of the lust. Deep inside him, Mason understood that no, Hewitt had not fallen into the feral insanity. And there was something more, something Mason couldn’t quite grasp, but that he knew would be very important.
Shaking himself, Mason focused on the most important thing, his mate’s safety. “Hewitt?” he prodded.
“I remember,” the witch replied tensely. “Those…things attacked the club. I tried to draw them away from the other people, and they ambushed me. After that, it’s all a bit blurry. There was something there, a power greater than my own. I…”
Hewitt gripped his forehead and released a choked noise. Instantly, both Mason and Devon hugged their mate tightly. “Shh,” Devon whispered. “Don’t think about it anymore. Don’t force yourself. You’re safe now, and we won’t allow anything else to happen to you.”
Slowly, Hewitt began to relax. “All right,” he finally said with a shaky laugh. As he slipped out of the embrace, the witch looked around the room. “Now, where in the world are we and how did we get here?”
* * * *
Hewitt watched his two mates, his mind still struggling with an onslaught of images he had trouble processing. Like he had told Mason and Devon, he didn’t remember much after the car accident, and he suspected that might not be a very bad thing. What he did recall was not pleasant at all. Flashes of monstrous faces peering down teased him, and the echoes of his own screams sounded in his ear. He felt a blade run over his skin, parting the flesh, and a hot, branding presence trying to crawl inside him, to empty him and drain him dry.
It was Mason’s voice that snapped him out of his trance. “Hewitt?” the wolf asked in a worried tone. “Babe, can you hear me?”
Hewitt blinked at Mason and cursed himself for losing it like that. He was stronger than this. He’d faced countless perils and had been close to dying more than once. It was a witch’s destiny to always be on the run, because many coveted the power that could make a human into an immortal. Hewitt in particular had always been very talented and therefore in more danger than most. He shouldn’t be so affected by this.
He shook himself and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry.” He cleared his throat and decided the best way to deal with this was to brave the situation. “You were telling me about how we got here?”
Mason gave him a concerned look, while Devon hugged him once again. Hewitt could feel their anxiety, the lingering traces of their terror, and he could only imagine what they must have gone through. Just the thought of losing either of them made Hewitt more scared than any of those flashbacks ever could.
“The Spirit Mother helped us find you,” Mason replied. “The orcs were holding you in a sewer. The Magistrate and his men distracted them while we got you out.”
Hewitt arched a brow in surprise. “The spirit wolves? You met up with them?” For the first time, he realized the place he was didn’t feel like a normal bed and a normal home. They were…on a plane. “They’re here,” he concluded.
He felt rather than saw Devon nod. “You’ll see them later. They’re recovering. You should be resting, too.”
The words were quite vague, and Hewitt immediately panicked. He couldn’t just go to sleep without knowing if his friends were injured. Not only that, but he felt strange, his magic off kilter, and the only thing that anchored him was the closeness with his mates.
“Don’t be afraid,” a sudden female voice said. “Everyone is fine.”
Hewitt looked beyond Mason’s shoulder and saw a translucent white wolf looking at him with strange, ghostly eyes. He gasped, already knowing who it was. He had never been in the presence of such power, but his every sense was overwhelmed by her. His nerve endings screamed with the spiritual energy she emanated, and a part of him that he didn’t really recognize told him to bare his throat in submission.
If Mason and Devon hadn’t been there, Hewitt suspected he’d have broken down completely. It was just too much, this peculiar change within him, the attack, and now the presence of the Spirit Mother.
“Don’t fear me,” the white wolf said again. “You are my child now, just like Mason and Devon are.”
Her child? What did that mean? Hewitt looked toward his mates for an answer, but they were avoiding his gaze. In that moment, Hewitt understood. He had been severely injured, and the two wolves had claimed him to save his life.
Hewitt had only heard of one person who was half witch, half spirit wolf, his friend, Dietrich. Dietrich, however, had been born that way. Hewitt had only ever been a witch, and he had no idea how to cope with a new power.
As realization struck, his mind opened, and he at last faced the facet of him that had been waiting in the shadows. A wolf was there, deep within him but very real, as genuine and true as Hewitt’s magic was. Hewitt tried to reach for it, but he was afraid, and his beast sensed it. The wolf recoiled, and its spiritual energy clashed against the witch power of Hewitt’s soul.
Pain exploded through Hewitt, and he blindly tried to find something, anything that would help him soothe the agony. To his shock, he did. His two mates were suddenly in his mind, their presence a balm for his strained senses. Their bond was so powerful now that Hewitt could feel their every emotion. Their love brought his beast back out of its hiding place, and Hewitt leaned against their mental presence for support.
And then, the Spirit Mother was there as well. “Again, child,” she said. “Try again.”
So, Hewitt did. He once more reached out for the wolf. At first, the skittish beast wouldn’t obey, but the insistence, as well as the presence of his two mates and the Spirit Mother, made all the difference in the world. Finally, Hewitt found himself kneeling in front of a dark-furred wolf who was analyzing him with curious eyes. Hewitt gently touched the beast’s head, and at that, the wolf stepped forward, no longer so hesitant. Something clicked inside Hewitt’s heart, and he wrapped his arms around the wolf, holding onto the animal tightly. He buried his face in the wolf’s fur, feeling light-headed and lighthearted when the beast relaxed in his hold.
He didn’t know how long he just sat there, in the realm of his own mind. When he finally snapped out of his trance, he felt a new peace, but also a new anxiety. For ages, he’d been familiar with his magic, with the powers he used to control the aether. This was something so different, and while Hewitt was excited about it, he still wasn’t sure how to make use of it.
&n
bsp; “Don’t worry, babe,” Devon told him, obviously guessing his thoughts. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
Once more, Hewitt looked at his mates, noting there was something different about them. Their eyes were clear, no longer bearing that wildness that identified them as ferals. Hewitt’s witch powers might not have been able to put a finger on the change, but his wolf did. “You’re…You’re not feral anymore.”
“Of course they aren’t,” the Spirit Mother replied. “The bond works both ways, you know.”
All three men stared at her in disbelief. For his part, Hewitt couldn’t believe that all their concern had been virtually pointless, when they could have easily bonded from the very beginning and avoided this whole mess. But then again, godly beings were beyond his power of comprehension. Hewitt, and likely everyone else, could never hope to understand what they were thinking.
“Does that mean we’re not in danger of becoming feral anymore, or of hurting Hewitt?” Mason inquired.
“You’re safe from that,” the white wolf replied, “but you do have other pressing concerns.”
Once more, the images from earlier flashed through Hewitt’s mind. He could easily imagine what pressing concerns she was referring to. He still couldn’t understand why the orcs had managed to circumvent his spells and why they had kidnapped him in the first place. They had a leader, clearly, because beings like that didn’t just get fixed on a particular target for no reason. They were followers, and they must have been obeying the commands of another. It could only be that presence Hewitt had felt. But who, or what, was it?
As if guessing his thoughts, the Spirit Mother spoke out again. “Come. I know you are tired, but you probably have many questions you need answering before you can rest. There are clothes in the drawers. When you are ready, meet us in the main room.”
And just like that, she disappeared, reminding Hewitt that yes, she was a deity, and he was very lucky to have her on his side. He was still so very confused, but he forced himself to calm down. First and foremost, he was a witch, and that would never change. Witches braved all incoming storms without fear. They always landed on their feet, like the black cats that supposedly accompanied them as familiars. But the strangest thing was that, unlike other times, Hewitt was not in this alone. Yes, he had friends—witches in general stuck together—but none of them meant as much to him as Mason and Devon. He was not afraid to admit that he felt out of his depth, but with the two men by his side, he thought that maybe he could learn how to be a wolf, too.
The most confusing thing was that, in spite of having received the bite from Mason and Devon, he wasn’t sure he should have had a beast in the first place. From what he knew of the Magistrate’s mates and the other humans who had been claimed, they had not turned into spirit wolves. Instead, they had only become stronger, immune to disease, and unlikely to age. Why was Hewitt different?
“She called me her child,” he mused. “Why? Why do I have a wolf, too?”
Devon and Mason seemed startled. It looked like this dilemma hadn’t occurred to them. “You’re right,” Mason said. “That is weird. But I’m sure we’ll receive an explanation soon.”
Hewitt hoped so. Suddenly, he had a feeling that the appearance of his wolf wasn’t something that had shocked the Spirit Mother. In fact, he suspected that other beings might not have been surprised by it either, including the strange presence that had hurt him. There was something not right about this, and Hewitt had to learn what as soon as possible.
Chapter Seven
Doctor Andrew Blunt paced up and down in the main room of the plane. He wiped his sweaty palms against the material of his slacks, feeling useless and helpless.
As a doctor, there was nothing worse than being unable to aid a patient, except perhaps when the patient in question was someone he knew and loved. It was bad enough that Hewitt Moore had been kidnapped and severely injured. The fact that Trent and Val had been wounded during the expedition as well didn’t make him happy at all.
“Would you stop worrying, baby?” Val’s arms went around him as the wolf whispered in his ear. “We’re here now, and we’re safe.”
“We heal really quickly, remember?” Trent added.
Yes, Drew remembered, but he was still terrified of losing them. Trent’s job as a hunter perpetually put him in danger, and Drew had hoped that the new plan for peace the Magistrate had come up with would make things better. Apparently, he’d been mistaken. The last thing he had expected when he’d gone on this trip was to be forced to see his lovers half insane.
Drew would forever remember the way Trent and Val had looked in those alien, huge wolf bodies. They had still been his mates, but at the same time, so very different. For the first time, he had been scared of them, and he didn’t like it. And then, they had come back from their fight, and that fear had melted into abject terror. He could only thank God, the Spirit Mother, and whatever other deity watched over them that no one had been fatally injured.
“I’m sorry,” he told them, taking a deep breath. “I’m calm. I’m fine.”
He stole a look farther into the room, where his son stood with his own mates. Drew couldn’t afford to have a meltdown. He had Paulie to worry about, Paulie who was still so new at having spirit wolf mates, who had two hunter lovers, and who’d been hit even harder by this entire thing. Fortunately, neither Sebastian nor Marcus had suffered injuries beyond their healing abilities, but it had been very scary, regardless.
Drew slipped out of Val’s embrace and headed toward his son. His two mates followed silently. Drew knew they were concerned for Paulie as well, as they considered the younger man a sort of surrogate son.
Paulie looked up at them as they approached. “Hey, Dad,” he said with a tremulous smile. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Drew replied, knowing he didn’t sound very convincing. “You?”
Paulie leaned against Sebastian and Marcus, nodding. “Just give me a minute and I will be.”
Drew watched the trio with a touch of relief in his heart. Sebastian and Marcus were good for his son. He could not have asked for better mates. For a long time, he had feared that Paulie would age while Drew remained young due to his bond with Trent and Val. Sebastian and Marcus had showed up to eliminate that problem, and Drew would forever be grateful for that.
But looking around, Drew realized they still had a significant problem. The Magistrate and his second-in-command, Klaus, both sat with their respective mates. Trent’s brother, Ash, was also there, together with Drew’s friend, Daniel, and their mate, Linden. Everyone seemed as confused as Drew was, which did not fill Drew with confidence. He had never known the Magistrate to be unaware or confused about anything of such gravity. It unsettled him greatly. How could he help his son and his mates if he didn’t understand what was going on? And what about Hewitt? What had happened to the witch? Drew had wanted to assist, but he’d almost instantly known Hewitt was beyond any help Drew could provide. The blood loss had been too great. Drew imagined the two ferals he’d met earlier must have claimed Hewitt, but he wasn’t sure the three-way bond would work the same way as it had before in Hewitt’s case.
His doubts were put to rest when all of a sudden, Hewitt walked into the room, followed by his two mates. Both men loomed over Hewitt, protectively watching his every move. Their connection was so obvious that Drew berated himself for ever questioning it in the first place.
As Hewitt’s friend, Dietrich was predictably very pleased at seeing the witch. “Thank the Spirit Mother,” he said with a sigh of relief. “I’d almost given up hope.”
“You shouldn’t have worried,” Hewitt replied. “I’m too stubborn to die.”
Klaus and his two mates, Ross and Clay, directed their attention to Hewitt as well. “It’s great to see you better,” Klaus offered. “You remember my mates, right?”
“Yes.” Hewitt smiled weakly. “I helped to find you two. I’m glad things worked out for you.”
“Not as glad as we
are, believe me,” Ross replied. Drew agreed. The trio had been through an emotional grinder until they had finally managed to settle down. Drew didn’t envy them for what they’d been forced to go through. He could only admire the strength all three men had proven to have. He didn’t know if he’d have been so strong had he ended up in their situation.
Introductions were reiterated, mostly for Hewitt’s benefit and that of his mates. Earlier, none of them could pay much attention to manners, so it was only now that Drew could truly focus on Mason and Devon. They were both large men, especially Mason, who also seemed to emanate a sense of authority that reminded Drew of Val, and to a certain extent, the Magistrate. Both Mason and Devon were obviously very grateful for the assistance they had received, and while they didn’t go around giving hugs, they were no longer as openly hostile as they had been in the beginning.
“The Spirit Mother pointed out that there are some things we should all know,” Mason said at last.
“We have been waiting for that as well.” Wolfram frowned, seeming displeased with something. “When I went down there, I could feel a force clinging to us, something tainted and dark. It was as if it reached out into me, trying to…drain me.”
“As always, your senses are very sharp,” the Spirit Mother said, finally manifesting in front of them. Even with all the times he’d seen her do that, Drew still couldn’t get used to her overwhelming presence. “It’s time I give you a more complete explanation,” she added.
All men sat wherever they found seats. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Drew found himself cuddling in his mates’ embrace, enjoying their warmth and their scent. He pushed the arousal that threatened to swamp him to the back of his mind. He would deal with that later, when they were in private and not taking in life-altering information.
“As I mentioned earlier, the orcs are beings of pure flesh,” the Spirit Mother said. “They were brought into being by a creature we call G’aladon. A long time ago, G’aladon was banished from our realm into the astral plane, where he has no power due to his alignment to matter and not spirit. But now, he seems to have found a way to return. I anticipated this might happen with the worsening of the hostilities between spirit wolves and ferals.”
Bewitched by Their Mate [Feral 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) Page 9
