by _Anthology
Driving into Camden was like taking a trip back in time. From the wagon-worthy roads to the tiny cottages and paned windows of the quaint storefronts, Camden was the picturesque, nineteenth century village. Kyran had seen places like this before -- mostly staged recreations bent on garnering tourists -- but Camden's remote location and the curious stares he got from town residents as he passed told him this place was the real deal. He'd be surprised if even half the buildings boasted electricity.
He pulled to a stop in front of a flag draped, brick structure he guessed to be the post office. Hopping out of the truck, Kyran followed a cobbled sidewalk to the door and pushed his way inside.
A grizzled old man looked up from behind the counter where he stood and said, "Can I help you, sir?" A couple of customers glanced his way with open curiosity, but Kyran pretended not to notice. "I'm looking for someone and I'm hoping you can tell me where to find him."
The old man cackled, exposing beneath his bristly mustache a mouth missing several teeth. "I've been the postmaster here for goin' on thirty years. If I don't know your man, don't nobody else. What's his name?"
"Saxton Talcott. Know him?"
The postmaster tilted his head to the side. "I might. Depends on what you want with him."
Kyran crossed his arms over his chest. "That's between him and me."
The old man was quiet for a minute, seemingly coming to a decision. "You'll find him at the blacksmith's shop. Follow this road all the way to the end 'till you come to a peelin' red barn. You can't miss it." Kyran nodded his thanks and went back to the truck. The road was longer than he'd thought it would be. By the time he reached the end, he was on the outskirts of town and parked in front of a rambling old barn. Kyran could see smoke coming through the chimney from the forge. As he stepped out of the truck, a chill raced up his spine that had him hurrying to zip his leather jacket. Funny, the sun was shining, and he'd been almost too warm when he'd walked into the post office. The temperature must have dropped.
Kyran let himself in through a side door that led into a small but tidy office. Finding no one there, he followed the sounds of metal hitting metal and wound his way through to the forge proper. What he saw took his breath away.
A half-naked man stood near a blazing fire, his broad back facing Kyran. His short, black hair was dripping with sweat that ran down his corded neck and trailed over the bare, bronzed skin of his upper torso. He wore a pair of time-tested jeans that molded his tight ass and made Kyran's mouth water. Kyran started to signal his attention by calling out, but the man was making so much noise with the hammer he wielded, Kyran doubted he'd be heard. It became a moot point a second later, when the other man whirled on him, causing Kyran to take an involuntary step backwards. Without having to be told, Kyran knew he was looking into the intoxicatingly angry, silver eyes of Saxton Talcott.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my shop?" He clutched the hammer tight in his left fist as he glared Kyran down.
Kyran hesitated only because he was fascinated by the play of firelight as it teased and flickered against Talcott's strong jaw. After a minute, he found his voice enough to say, "Mr. Talcott, I'm Kyran Durand." Talcott dropped the hammer onto the ground near his anvil and took a step closer. His straight nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air around them. "You're a wolf. I can smell it on you." Kyran wasn't surprised. His own sense of smell had been working overtime since the minute he walked into the forge. The crisp smell of the fire, along with the musky scent of wolf, the salty smell of clean sweat, and a masculine odor that was all Saxton Talcott, filled Kyran's nose and made his head spin. He had to say what he'd come to say, and quickly, before he forgot how to speak, all together.
"Mr. Talcott, I ... can I call you Saxton?" Two finely honed arms lifted on a shrug that Kyran took as an indifferent "yes." "Saxton, I'm the Alpha of clan Thorn and I need your help." Saxton waved his hand around the room to encompass the whole of the forge. "I'm a blacksmith, Mr. Durand. Unless you have a horse that needs to be shod or an iron fence that needs mending, you've come to the wrong place."
Kyran had known this wouldn't be easy, but something inside him was desperate to make Saxton say yes. It went far beyond the need for protection. There was a connection between them. Kyran could feel it, and he was willing to bet Saxton could, too.
Kyran took a step closer. "Please, call me Kyran, and no, I don't need a blacksmith. What I'm looking for runs more along the lines of a bodyguard."
Saxton raised one black brow. "It's been a while since I've lived as part of a clan, so forgive me if I'm wrong, but don't most Alphas have their own private guard? If not, I'd say that's one piss-poor clan you've got going." Kyran couldn't help but laugh at Saxton's observation, but it was too close to the truth and he quickly sobered. "I do have my own guard, but I'm not sure I can trust them." He sighed. "I can see I'm going to have to explain it from the beginning. You see, my father died two weeks ago."
"And you inherited his position. I know how it works, Durand. What I don't get is what this has to do with me." He turned then and started back towards the office, leaving Kyran no choice but to follow. Once inside, Saxton grabbed a shirt and towel from a rack near the door. "Have a seat while I clean up a bit."
Kyran nodded and sat down on a worn, but comfortable sofa at the back of the room. He tried not to watch as Saxton toweled himself dry, but there was no help for it. Kyran's eyes were drawn to each swipe the terry-cloth made over the glistening flesh. He actually felt bereft when Saxton finished and covered himself with the gray flannel shirt. Once done, Saxton sat down in a chair not far from Kyran and said, "Let's hear the rest of this story of yours so I can get back to work."
Not the most promising opening, but at least Saxton was willing to listen. "My father was a great man, deeply respected by those who served him. When he died, I was thrown into a position I wasn't ready for and didn't want. Unfortunately, even for shifters, cancer doesn't often give you many choices. Even so, I was prepared to be the best leader I could, out of respect for my father's memory, if nothing else. Too bad there's a usurper who's calling into question my ability to rule."
Saxton crossed his legs right ankle over left knee and leaned back in his chair. "On what grounds?" "On the grounds that I'm gay." Kyran looked him dead in the eye as he said it. "I'll never take a female or produce heirs of my own line. Elias Luzerne, my rival, said as much in front of the clan council. I had no choice but to issue a blood challenge. It was either that, or lose my authority."
"I still don't see why you need my help. Sounds like you've got things under control." Kyran shook his head. "Elias can't beat me in a blood challenge and he knows it. My chief advisor and I have reason to believe Elias will stop at nothing to see me assassinated before the crimson moon, the date of the challenge."
Saxton let out a low whistle. "That's in two-and-a-half days."
"Yes. Maybe now you can see why this matter is so urgent." Saxton stood and crossed to a small refrigerator on the other side of the room. "If you're so certain this guy is going to take you out, why not hire a whole squad of guards? Why do you think one wolf can keep you safe?" He held up a bottle for Kyran to see. "Water?"
"No, thank you. And to answer your question, I don't have time to hire more help. Besides, Nuncio tells me you have quite a reputation for self-defense." "Nuncio?" Saxton turned around and popped the top on his water bottle, taking a long, enthusiastic sip before saying, "He's your advisor, I take it."
"Yes and the thing he's best at is research. He tells me you've been known to incapacitate as many as ten wolves at one time. How do you do that, anyway?"
Kyran watched as Saxton's face closed up. "Your friend was mistaken, Mr. Durand. I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else to help you." Damnit, he'd pushed him too hard. Kyran silently cursed himself as he tried to backtrack. "Look, I didn't mean to pry, but I'm desperate, here. I have to stay alive to complete the challenge and if even one of my guards falls in league with Elias..."
; "If you don't want the Alpha position, why not just give it to this Elias guy and be done with it?" "Make no mistake, the thought has crossed my mind. But even if I were to abdicate, it wouldn't be to Elias. He's too unstable -- and too selfish -- to put the needs of Clan Thorn above his own."
Saxton killed the rest of his water in a series of long swallows and tossed the bottle into a nearby trashcan. "Like I said, you've got the wrong man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."
"Wait."
Saxton shook his head and turned to go, but Kyran wasn't finished. "At least think about it. I can afford to pay…"
"It's not about the money." "I understand that, but I want you to know you can pretty much name your price." Kyran took a deep, calming breath. "At least think about it. I passed an inn on my way up the mountain, a converted house about five miles back."
"I know the place."
"Good. I'm staying there, overnight, just in case you change your mind."
"I won't."
Despite the determination on Saxton's face, Kyran was just as determined to remain hopeful. At this point, hope was about all he had.
*** Even after working all day at the forge, Saxton couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, tossing and turning for over an hour. Though he told himself he was only suffering from one of those random cases of insomnia that occasionally struck, deep down, Saxton knew the root of his problems: Kyran Durand.
Why couldn't he get the man out of his head? Saxton was sure it wasn't just Kyran's looks that held him spellbound. Oh, Kyran was perfection itself, with those piercing eyes and that shock of blond hair, but then, Saxton rarely went in for the pretty-boy type. Nor was it the muscular body hinted at even underneath the bulk of Kyran's clothes. No, something else held them together, but damned if Saxton could guess what it was.
Deciding a stiff drink was the quickest way to put himself to sleep, Saxton stood without bothering to dress. He was halfway to the kitchen when he heard the first of the howls. *** It was the howling that caused Kyran to bolt upright in his bed. There was a slight difference in pitch that distinguished werewolf cries from those of natural wolves. Elias’ men had come for him. Judging from the sound, at least eight assassins -- perhaps more -- were out there waiting in the shadows. There was no way Kyran could take that many by himself, but he'd damn sure go down fighting rather than waiting for them to come in and kill him. He rose on silent feet and slipped out the window, careful not to wake the innkeepers. No need to endanger innocents in this. The night air hit him the minute his feet were back on solid ground, but Kyran barely felt the cold bite against his nude body as he began the shift.
As always, the pain hit him immediately and with blinding force, but this time Kyran embraced it as bone and sinew dissolved and melded into canine form. Once changed, Kyran leapt over the small row of hedges bordering the inn, a solid white streak against the darkness. Damn genetics for making him a white wolf. He was a moving target with nowhere to hide. Not that hiding was what he had in mind.
It only took him a moment to find them. Twelve dark, burly shapes circling the house, trying to find the best way inside. Though he'd been wrong about their number, Kyran knew he'd guessed their purpose rightly when the lead wolf spotted him and snarled a warning to the others. With his keen night vision, Kyran could see his enemies' murderous intentions by the feral gleam in their eyes. Kyran positioned himself into battle stance just as the leader charged.
The fight was savage, but Kyran gave as good as he got, matching his opponent bite for bite and claw for claw. It was as he got the enemy wolf down on his back and found himself dangerously close to winning that the rest of the pack descended.
As they latched onto him from all sides, bent on tearing him apart, it wasn't Kyran's life that flashed before his eyes. Instead, one man dominated his thoughts. He lowered his lids, wanting Saxton's silver gaze to be the last thing he saw as he slid into death. Kyran was so focused on the image in his head, he didn't realize he'd been released. He opened his eyes to see his attackers circling a mammoth black wolf who'd worked his way into their midst. The newcomer lifted his head to look at Kyran, and that's when he knew who his savior was. Saxton.
Kyran tried to aid him, but he was too weak to stand. He sought Saxton out, hoping with his expression to plead forgiveness for his useless state. Saxton did nothing more than wink at him before closing his eyes and going to work.
A series of ear-splitting yelps filled the night air a moment later as, one after the other, the enemy wolves fell to the ground in writhing heaps of agony. As soon as all twelve were incapacitated, Saxton rushed to Kyran's side and nuzzled him with his soft muzzle for a full minute before stepping back and starting the shift.
His nude body was magnificent. Kyran had already had a taste of Saxton shirtless, but it was nothing compared to the man in full glory. His thickly muscled thighs were sprinkled with a dark coating of hair that led a slight trail upwards to his chiseled stomach. It was the beautiful member between his thighs though -- long, thick, and uncut -- that made even Kyran's pain-ravaged body take notice. The show ended a second later, though, as Saxton came forward and scooped Kyran up and into his arms. Kyran tried to shift, thinking perhaps he could walk, but Saxton stopped him.
"You don't have the strength for that, yet. Once I've tended to your wounds, then you can shift." Kyran did a dog-like version of a nod and then lay as still as possible, trying not to wince each time one of Saxton's steps jarred his aching body. It wasn't until they'd made it to a beat-up Ford that Kyran let out the breath he'd been holding. He expected Saxton to lay him on the bed of the truck, but he placed Kyran on the bench seat inside the cab instead.
Saxton closed the door behind Kyran and made his way around to the driver's side. He pulled a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from behind the seat and slipped them on, talking as he went. "I know you'd have more room in the back, but the shocks are better up here." He slid his sock-less feet into a pair of ragged tennis shoes he'd taken from the floorboard. He noticed Kyran watching him and gave a slight smile. "I guess you're wondering why the clothes. Two reasons. First, cops are rare around here, but if we do get stopped, it's going to be hard enough to explain why I have a full grown wolf on the front seat, much less why I'm stark naked." Another smile, this one a bit brighter. "Second reason is, it's damn cold out here. I was freezing my balls off."
With that pronouncement, he got into the truck and cranked the engine. Warmth from the heater enveloped Kyran and he closed his eyes, meaning only to rest for a minute. He fell asleep a second later. He awoke to the feeling of being lifted as Saxton carried him into a white, frame house just behind the forge. Kyran groaned in protest as Saxton laid him down on the bed and began his examination. He left only once, just long enough to grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom medicine cabinet, before coming back and finishing his inspection. Once satisfied that Kyran had no broken bones and only minor injuries, Saxton sank back on his heels. "I think it's safe for you to shift now. It'll hurt like hell, but it's safe."
Saxton was right. It did hurt like hell. Kyran was proud of himself for keeping silent as his human form returned. Saxton brushed the hair back from Kyran's eyes as the transformation completed itself. "You need a haircut."
Kyran laughed, a rusty rasp. "You sound like my father."
Saxton's eyes were gentle as he covered Kyran with a quilt from the foot of the bed and sat down beside him on the soft mattress. "You miss him."
"More than I ever thought I would considering he and I never agreed on a damn thing while he was alive." Kyran lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes. "What about you? Any family?" Saxton shook his head, his face filled with ghosts of a past Kyran guessed had been less than ideal. "My father died when I was just a baby. For years, my mother and I were on our own." He looked away. "She remarried when I was ten."
The way he said it made Kyran's heart turn over. "What happened?" "Nothing, at first. Edward, her husband, was actually decent to the both of us, i
n the beginning. He was a shifter from our own clan and a hard worker. All in all, they seemed like a good match. Until the first time he lost his temper, that is."
Kyran's teeth clenched. "He abused you." "Both of us. Me more than mom, especially when I was fifteen and he found out I was gay. Guess I should have been more careful who I told. I confided in a friend who, in turn, told his father. The man wasted no time clueing Edward in."
Kyran's heart skipped a beat. Saxton was gay? He'd been hopeful, of course, but now...
"Is that why you were disowned by your clan, because you're gay?" Saxton shook his head. "Being gay wasn't that big a deal, not to most of the people in our clan, anyway. To tell you the truth, I don't think it really mattered to Edward, either. It was just something else to torture me with. And torture me, he did. Mostly, it was just name calling or an occasional slap across the face. Nothing I couldn't handle. And the good news was, he'd stopped slapping my mom around, I think because he knew I was big enough, by then, to hurt him if he tried. You see, he and I had sort of an unspoken agreement. As long as I put up with his shit, he left her alone. One day, though, when I was seventeen, he went too far." Kyran reached for his hand, half expecting Saxton to push him away. He didn't. Instead, he entwined their fingers and went on with his story.
"I'd just come home from school and Edward and my mother were arguing. I can't remember now what the fight was about. I just remember the sound of him slapping her. I ran into the kitchen to stop him, but it was too late. She..." His voice broke and it took him a minute to recover. In the soft light of the bedside lamp, Kyran could see the tears pooling in his eyes. Saxton blinked them back and said, "She hit her head on the counter as she fell. She was just lying there, bleeding."
Kyran bit back the bile that rose in his throat. "He killed her."
"Yes. I think, on some level, I knew she was dead the minute she hit the floor, but I spent long minutes trying to wake her, just the same. It was only when Edward tried to pull me away from her that I turned on him."
