Hunting Danger

by Lynn Hagen

  Just as Max’s orgasm began to mount, Dillon slowed, kissing along Max’s back as he swiveled his hips, taking their moment from fucking to lovemaking. The fire inside Max subsided but not by much. His nerve endings still felt raw, and his body still pulsed with need.

  “I’m trying to make this last,” Dillon murmured, “but your body is wrapped so tightly around my dick that I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.”

  Max had opened his mouth to reply when a searing pain sliced across his shoulder. Dillon had sunk his canines into him. But the pain lasted only a second and then morphed into an ecstasy Max hadn’t been ready for.

  He shouted, bucking under Dillon as Dillon moved faster, thrusting his cock hard and deep into Max’s ass until Max climaxed for the second time.

  “Mine,” Dillon snarled when he removed his sharp teeth and licked the wound.

  Max felt their souls binding and their hearts synchronizing.

  “Yours.” Max gave a short, high cry. He felt intoxicated, drugged, as Dillon buried himself in Max and came.

  When Dillon eased out of him, Max collapsed, breathing raggedly as his mate dropped next to him, laying a hand on Max’s bare hip. “That was…”

  “Incredible,” Max finished. He rolled over and curled into his mate, wishing he could fall asleep. But Dillon was still on duty and Max needed to get back inside. He hadn’t taken his masking potion because he’d wanted Dillon to feel their connection.

  It was a dangerous thing to do, but damn it, Max was tired of hiding who he was, of drinking that nasty crap. Taren hadn’t found him in two years. Maybe, just maybe, the demon had given up searching for him.

  Max wished he would be that lucky.

  Dillon groaned when the mic attached to his shoulder squawked. “Time to get back to work,” Dillon said as he rolled over and stood, fixing his pants. He helped Max to his feet and retrieved his pajama pants, handing them over.

  “You’ll come by when your shift is over?” It was selfish of Max to ask since Dillon would more than likely be exhausted from work, but he wanted to see Dillon again, and he didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to.

  Dillon cupped his face and gave him a soul-stirring kiss. “I’ll bring you some breakfast.”

  Max grinned. “Steak and eggs.” That was his new favorite breakfast.

  “That sounds delicious.” Dillon chuckled.

  Max slid his pants on and walked his mate to his car. They kissed a few more times before Dillon insisted Max go inside before he left.

  Hurrying down the hallway, Max ran to his bedroom window and watched as Dillon drove away, feeling giddy and smiling as he sighed. He gave a little squeak and then covered his hands over his mouth so he wouldn’t wake anyone with his euphoria.

  He dropped onto his bed, smiling like an idiot. “My mate claimed me,” he whispered to the ceiling fan as it slowly rotated.

  This had been the best night of his life.

  Chapter Three

  Max woke to bright sunlight burning his eyes. He shielded his hand in front of his face and groaned. The sun was too high for it to be morning. Had he slept through Dillon’s visit and missed breakfast? He’d have to call his mate and apologize after he emptied his bladder.

  “He’s awake!”

  Max turned his head to see Newt sitting right next to the bed in a kitchen chair. “I know we’re best friends and all, but I draw the line at you watching me sleep.”

  Unshed tears filled Newt’s eyes. What on earth was wrong with the squirrely little human? Max started to throw the covers back but winced and groaned. His body felt achy, and his head started pounding out a hard beat.

  When he looked down at his body, he noticed an IV stuck in his arm. What the fuck? His gaze snapped to Newt as Orlando rushed into the room. Behind him was a stranger with a stethoscope around his neck, and bringing up the rear was a haggard-looking Dillon.

  “What’s going on?” Why did Max’s throat feel so dry? He pointed to his arm “Is this some kind of joke?”

  If it was, Max wasn’t laughing. He hated needles. He started to rip it out, but the stranger, who was clearly a doctor, hurried forward and stopped him. “You need to stay hydrated.”

  “Why?” Max slowly shook his head as he frowned. “What’s going on?” he repeated.

  Dillon sat on the side of the bed, his expression somber as he took one of Max’s hands in his. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

  “Come again?” Max had overslept, but not for two freaking days. “What’re you smoking?”

  Dillon gave him a soft smile. “Nothing. When I came by with your steak and eggs, I couldn’t wake you. After several attempts, I called Dr. Fargo to come check on you.”

  Max looked the doctor over as his heart raced. “Was I really unconscious for two days?”

  The doctor nodded while moving to the other side of the bed. “I took blood and ran some tests.”

  “And?” Max blinked rapidly as he looked from the doctor to Dillon and then back at Dr. Fargo.

  The doctor took a seat on the foot of the bed and patted Max’s leg. “I had to consult with Dr. Sheehan and Dr. McNeal because I couldn’t understand your results.”

  “Will you please give it to me all at once instead of drawing this out?” Max couldn’t take the suspense. His gut was twisting and his palms were sweating as he waited for Dr. Fargo to tell Max what was wrong with him.

  “Newt gave me the bottle from the floorboard,” Dr. Fargo said. “I tested the potion’s contents. He said it was what you were taking to mask your scent, but there’s a compound in the liquid that has us baffled.”

  Max suddenly felt as if he were under the microscope as everyone in the room stared at him. “Well, I wasn’t taking it to get high, if that’s what you think.”

  He yanked his hand from Dillon, appalled that his mate would think that of him. He was wounded that Orlando would think that, too.

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” Dr. Fargo squeezed Max’s leg. “I know why you were taking it. I just can’t figure out the chemical makeup. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “We even had Panahasi take a look,” Orlando added. “He’s stumped.”

  “What’re you saying?” Max’s chest felt tight at the sad and pitiful look in everyone’s eyes. “It was just a potion to mask my scent. That’s all.”

  “What’s the name of the guy who sold it to you?” Orlando asked.

  “Chuck,” Max said. “I don’t know his last name. I met up with him once a month behind the diner.”

  “When are you due to see him again?” Dillon asked.

  “Last week,” Max said. “But I didn’t go. I didn’t want my scent masked with you.”

  Dillon’s face fell, as if it was his fault that Max was going through this. “You stopped taking it because of me?”

  “I think your body is having an adverse reaction because you stopped cold turkey,” Dr. Fargo said. “Although we can’t figure out the chemical makeup of the potion, I don’t think it’s fatal or you would’ve been dead by now, but you’ve been taking it for so long that stopping the way you did is clearly harmful.”

  “So my body is jacked because I stopped?” Max fluttered his hand to his throat.

  “How can we get ahold of this Chuck guy?” Orlando asked.

  Max shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never missed a meet before.”

  “We’ll need a description of him,” Dillon said. “As many details as you can remember.”

  “Why?” Max didn’t understand why they wanted to find Chuck. To arrest him? The potion wasn’t illegal. Not that Max knew of.

  “Because we need to reintroduce the masking agent back into your system and then slowly wean you off of it,” Dr. Fargo said. “Think of it as a drunk drying out. Going cold turkey will more than likely kill him.”

  “I’m gonna die!” Max tried to get up, but his arms ached and shook as he strained to sit up.

  “Whoa.” Dillon pressed his
palm into Max’s chest. “Take it easy.”

  “Take it easy?” Max gaped at him. “How can you say that when I practically killed myself? If I had known what that potion would do to me, I never would have stopped so suddenly.”

  “That’s hindsight,” Dr. Fargo said. “For now, we need to track your dealer down.”

  “My dealer?” Max shouted the words. “Don’t make me sound like a goddamn drug addict.”

  “Poor choice of words.” Dr. Fargo looked apologetically at him. “But we do need to find him.”

  “And if we don’t?” This was a freaking nightmare that Max wanted desperately to wake from.

  Dr. Fargo shrugged. “I can’t honestly say. We’re dealing with something I’ve never seen before. I can’t tell you what may and may not happen, but I fear you’ll only get worse.”

  “Even if I shift?” Max asked. “Shifting always heals us.”

  “You were in your dog form for the entire time you were out,” Newt said. “You just changed back into your human form moments before you woke up.”

  Yet Max still felt as if he’d been run over. “I’m not sick,” he said, refusing to accept anything the doctor was saying. “I’m not gonna get worse. Nothing is wrong with me. I can’t explain why I’ve been unconscious for two days, but nothing is wrong with me, damn it.”

  Dr. Fargo, Orlando, and Newt left the room. Max glared at the wall, his brain rejecting the idea that something was wrong with him. “I’m achy and have a headache. That’s all.”

  Dillon crawled into bed and curled around Max. “Whatever is going on, we’ll fight it.”

  “There’s nothing to fight.”

  “Although I believe in positive thinking, your refusal to believe you’re sick isn’t going to magically cure you.” He kissed Max’s temple. “Let’s find Chuck and then take it from there.”

  The problem was Max had no idea how to track Chuck down.

  * * * *

  Two days had gone by since Max had woken from his coma. So far, his mate seemed fine, aside from his lack of appetite, which worried Dillon. If the doctors and Panahasi couldn’t figure out what was in that concoction…Dillon didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to enjoy his time with Max before he had to head to the station for his shift.

  He’d swung by Sheriff Werth’s house and picked his mate up, deciding to spend time at home with Max. Hanging out at his boss’s house was fine, but Dillon didn’t want to keep getting interrupted. Newt kept an eye on Max, which was appreciated. Newt had turned into the little nursemaid, but the downside to that was it left Max and Dillon with no privacy.

  “This place is amazing,” Max said when he walked through the front door.

  “Feel free to look around.” Dillon went to the kitchen to make them lunch. He was concerned with Max’s health. Over the past two days Max’s appetite had declined, and he wanted to make sure Max ate something today. Shifters usually didn’t worry about their diet, but in Max’s case, Dillon wanted him to eat something healthy.

  He pulled some wild caught salmon from the freezer and set it aside. He normally didn’t quick-thaw meat, but today he would make an exception.

  “You have a Jacuzzi in your bathroom!” Max shouted from the other room.

  Dillon chuckled. He was glad someone besides himself appreciated his home. He’d had his fair share of one-night stands but had never brought anyone here. They either had sex at the random guy’s house or settled on other places. This was Dillon’s sanctuary, and he liked his privacy.

  “You have the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen. Did you build your house around your bed?” Max asked as he wandered into the kitchen. “I could fit ten of me in it.”

  “That’s because you’re so short and skinny.” Dillon heated some avocado oil in a cast-iron skillet. “I could fit maybe three of me, but no more.”

  “What’re you cooking?” Max moved in behind Dillon and looked around him. Dillon pressed a hand to Max’s hip, loving how it felt to have his mate in his home. No, their home. He liked his privacy but had no problem giving it up for his mate.

  “I’m making salmon for lunch.”

  Max wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like fish.”

  “You haven’t had mine.” He gave Max a quick kiss. “You’re gonna try it.”

  “No I’m not.” Max wandered around the kitchen as he talked, opening cupboards and the pantry and even the fridge. “Fish is for health nuts and bear shifters, and the last time I checked, I wasn’t either of those things. Don’t you have any steak?”

  “This isn’t a diner.” Dillon repeated word his mother used to say to him all the time when he was growing up. “You don’t get to pick something from a menu. We’re having salmon.”

  Max straightened from the fridge and glared at him. “Fine, Mr. Bossypants.”

  By the time Dillon was finished cooking, he served seared salmon sprinkled with lime juice and extra-soft steamed broccoli. “You haven’t eaten today, so I want to see a clean plate.”

  He set the plates on the table and grabbed two bottled waters from the fridge before taking a seat next to Max. His mate picked over his broccoli, crinkling his nose.

  “You can’t say you don’t like it if you don’t try it.” Dillon would’ve preferred a steak, as well, but since he was trying to help Max, he ate his meal.

  Max stabbed his fork into the salmon, sighed, and took a bite. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and in a matter of moments, his plate was clean. “I still don’t like fish.” He dragged his finger through the remaining juices and licked it clean.

  Dillon chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  After washing the dishes, they settled on the couch in the living room. Max curled into him as Dillon used the remote to try and find something to watch. It was rare that he watched television. Dillon was either at the station or out in his garage working with his tools. Most of the woodwork in his home he’d done himself.

  “This is nice,” Max said. “I love lazy afternoons.”

  “Me, too.” Dillon rubbed his hand down Max’s back. And now that he had his mate to share it with, that made it all the more special.

  He smelled the demon too late. Max rolled off him as Dillon fought to get the wire from around his neck. He was being pulled up and over the back of the couch as he kicked his feet and kept his fingers curled around the wire to stop it from cutting into his neck, although it was slicing into his fingers.

  “Taren!” Max shifted into his German shepherd and barked furiously.

  This was the guy after his mate.

  Dillon twisted, keeping a tight hold on the wire, and managed to pull it over his head. He jumped from the couch, facing his attacker. Why in the hell did a demon use human tactics to try and subdue him? That didn’t make any sense.

  He also spotted a gun in Taren’s waistband. Taren pulled it free as Dillon moved to stand in front of his mate, who was still barking like crazy. He would’ve told Max to run, but Dillon couldn’t be certain Taren was alone.

  “I have no beef with you, cat. But I will put a bullet in your head if you don’t get out of my way.”

  Dillon saw a shadow to his left. He’d been right. Taren hadn’t come alone. He just didn’t know how many men Taren had brought with him. “You think I’m gonna let you anywhere near my mate?”

  Surprise filled Taren’s eyes for just a brief moment before the malice in them returned. Dillon dropped and rolled seconds before Taren fired the gun. The guy kept firing as Dillon shifted into his panther, rounded the couch, and attacked. He latched onto the arm holding the weapon and tried to tear the damn thing off.

  Taren howled as he beat Dillon in the head with the butt of his gun. “Get off me, you mangy cat.”

  Dillon let go but went for Taren’s throat. The guy dodged the attack and shot his gun again, but he hadn’t been aiming at Dillon. He just fired the thing haphazardly. The other guy rushed Dillon, tackling him, but Dillon was strong in his cat form and bit the guy’s face. The newc
omer howled as he fell backward, clutching his face, blood seeping between his fingers.

  Max ran up and over the couch, launching himself at Taren. He took the demon down, snarling and biting as he shook his head back and forth.

  And then Max collapsed, unmoving.

  Taren got up and hauled ass out the back door, his buddy running behind him. Dillon started to give chase but thought of Max. He shifted and knelt beside his mate. “Max, can you hear me?”

  Max suddenly shifted, the quick move startling Dillon. “Are they gone?”

  Max shifted back into dog form and then back into his human form. It was as though he couldn’t control it.

  Dillon grabbed his phone from his pocket and called his partner. “I need you here,” he said and told Vince what had just happened.

  “I’m on my way,” Vince said. “I’m bringing Jacoby with me.”

  Dillon ended the call, and then dialed Dr. Fargo. “He’s got uncontrollable shifting now.”

  “Anything else?” Dr. Fargo asked.

  Dillon explained what had happened and told the doctor about Max passing out for a brief moment. “Is this the worst you were talking about?”

  “Like I said, I can’t be certain what will happen. For now, if you think it’s safe in your home, make him rest.”

  Dillon cradled Max in his arms. Max looked out of it, as if the shifts were taking a toll on him. He’d stayed in his human form since the last shift and had his eyes closed. “I’ll have him rest.”

  After hanging up, Dillon set his phone aside, picked Max up, and carried him to his bedroom. He placed his mate on the bed and paced the room, running his hands through his hair. The color had drained from Max’s face, and he appeared ragged.

  Just before Vince and Jacoby arrived, Max’s breathing evened out and he began to lightly snore. Dillon met his friends in the living room, closing the bedroom door so he wouldn’t disturb Max.

  “Are they gone?” Vince asked as he looked around.