Anthology The Call

The Call

by Rob Knight

Torquere Press

www.torquerepress.com

First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007

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The Call

by Rob Knight

Table of Contents
Foreword by Rob Knight
Instinct by Jourdan Lane
Son of a Bitch by Emily Veinglory
Home Fires by BA Tortuga
Contributors

The Call

by Rob Knight

Foreword
Werewolf stories represent one of the most popular genres

in romance today.

So, what is it about the werewolf that leaves us clamoring

for more? We can talk about how the werewolf is a primal
force, a child of nature who calls to the beast in all of us. Or,
we can discuss the appeal of duality, where any man we meet
on the street might have an animal inside. We could talk
about all of that, but what it really boils down to is sex
appeal.

Danger is sexy. Alpha males are sexy. When it comes to

the fantasy created by werewolf fiction, we can lose ourselves
in a world where the razor's edge lives front and center, and
where changing your life is as easy as changing your skin.
The wildness, the intense passion, and the element of the
unexpected keeps us up all night and breathing heavily,
immersed in the rough and ready pack of the wolf. What
more could any reader ask?

The stories in The Call run under the moon, from the

danger of a wolf meeting a city boy and drawing him into the
world of the pack, to remote locations where the wolf comes
out and the human hangs by a thread. These men are tough,
honest, and full of animal attraction, and I hope you'll enjoy
this collection as much as I do, no matter what your reason
for loving the man who runs wild under the moon.

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by Rob Knight

Instinct
By jourdan lane
The headlines were always the same: someone getting

arrested; someone in politics doing something really stupid;
someone wanting to bring something new and improved to
the area. I was all for new and improved. Business was
business—and more business meant more money in my
pocket.

Something clanged and then the sound of a dish dropping

to the floor and breaking drew my attention across the diner.
One of the waitresses had apparently misjudged how much
she could carry. I was glad it wasn't mine. Mine? Was nearly
gone, the huge pile of bacon and eggs really hitting the spot.

I turned my attention back to the paper and skimmed

down to see if that new and improved proposal had a
construction firm on bid yet. Sure enough, I'd missed out on
the deadline for the bid. I growled and sipped at my
lukewarm coffee, wondering just how I was going to keep
paying my crew through the winter.

I could always get by. But the men and women who

worked for me depended on me to keep them working so
they could support their families a little easier through the
worst of the winter months.

Raucous laughter erupted from the middle of the room and

drew my attention again. Six men were gathered around a
long table, talking and laughing and carrying on. I recognized
them in an instant: ranchers who got together once a week
when they made their runs to town for feed or other supplies.

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by Rob Knight

Try as I might to ignore them, they just kept getting

louder and louder. One of the men laughed hard, almost
snorting. "Ha! There ain't been no wolves 'round here in
years!"

I groaned. Not this shit again.
One man sat up in defense of the other's laughing. "What?

You don't think I know what a wolf howling sounds like? Hell,
I even saw some tracks near the back fence."

Another man shook his head. "Well, you know they were

wanting to reintroduce wolves back into these parts. Import
them from Canada or some far off place."

Another grumbled around a mouthful of food. "Tell you one

thing. I find a wolf on my land—that bastard'll spend the rest
of its life decorating my wall."

All of the men agreed ... 'I hear that' echoing around the

table.

I frowned and folded the paper I'd been reading. It never

quite set well when the subject of wolves was broached. I
wasn't fond of them myself, but I had a link to them like no
other. A link I couldn't get rid of to save my life.

Digging in my wallet, I counted out payment for breakfast

and a tip and set it beneath my mostly empty coffee cup.
Beth would gripe and complain that I needed to let her ring
me up, but she was nowhere to be seen and I wanted out of
that place before I said something stupid.

I liked Charlie's Diner and hated the thought of having to

find somewhere else that gave me the same level of service.
Beth always had me a plate made—warming and waiting—
every morning of the week for the past three years. It was

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something different every day, but it was always heavy on
the meat. And I did like meat.

* * * *

A sharp knock sounded on the door to the office just

before it opened. Beth poked her head inside, smiling as I
looked up. "You hungry, Ethan?"

Hungry? Oh yeah. Had been since about an hour after

breakfast. I tried to keep the office stocked with food to snack
on, but with me trying to save a little money, I'd been doing
without. And when I say saving money ... I really was saving
money. My grocery bill alone was over a thousand dollars a
month.

"I could eat."
Beth smirked and walked in, shutting and locking the front

door behind her. There were two paper bags in her hands and
I could tell they were full. The bags were set on my desk and
she paused a moment.

"Want some company?"
I sat up in the chair and began clearing away files and

papers and supply books. If there was ever someone to share
a meal with, it was Beth.

"There's nothing I'd like better, darlin'."
Hazel eyes flashed up at me, clearly amused. "So it's true;

the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

I laughed. "Well, I do have a few other requirements."
Beth opened the bags and began removing Styrofoam

plates. "That's right. My tits are too big and I have an innie."

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by Rob Knight

I grabbed her wrist, smiling up at her as our eyes met. "If

I swung that way, you'd be the first I called."

"Don't think I'm guilt-tripping you. I'm just teasing."
"I know you are." I let her go and gestured to the chair

just behind her. "So, what goodness did you bring us?"

"For you? Steak, potatoes, chicken-fried steak." She

shrugged. "I figured you might want a little variety other than
just meat. And for me? I have a lovely ... salad."

"Not like I have much choice in that," I said as I found the

plate with the chicken-friend steak and opened it. "But then
again, I can't see actually craving a salad..."

She threw a plastic spoon at me, glaring. "Not like I crave

salads either. Bastard."

"I'm sorry—"
Beth held her hand up, shaking her head. "Don't even. I'm

just bitchy. Those assholes didn't leave the diner 'til about an
hour ago."

I shook my head and paused before taking a bite of my

food. "That's why I left earlier. Figured it was best that I not
get involved."

"I forgive you for leaving without being rung up."
With a guilty half-smile, I started eating. Beth did the

same and we fell into a comfortable silence. As I finished the
chicken-fried steak and most of the potatoes, I sat back,
letting my food settle a bit before I started in on more. Beth
was staring at my desk, seeming lost in thought.

"What's on your mind?" When she continued her gazing

and didn't look up, I called her name. "Beth!"

"Hmm?" She looked up, then raised a brow. "What?"

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"I asked what was on your mind."
She dropped her fork and sat back in her chair, sighing. "I

hate to even mention it, because it always leads to a fight,
but the guys in the diner this morning haven't been the only
ones going on about wolves. In the past month or so, several
people have mentioned hearing them and ... seeing tracks."

"Dogs," I whispered. "Probably coyotes."
"Big tracks, Ethan. Big enough to get people talking, to get

them unsettled enough to start seeking out what's leaving
them."

"It's not me." I gripped the arms of my chair so hard the

wood creaked. "It's never been me."

"I know you well enough to be sure of that. But I also

know that there are ... people out there who want to make
trouble for—especially if it means getting you involved."

"I'm not getting involved. Let them talk; let them

speculate. I'll sit right beside them and pretend to join in."

"Mmmhmm." She picked up her fork again and stabbed at

her salad, breaking the tines of the plastic fork. "And let that
pack of assholes walk all over you!"

"Leave it alone, Beth."
"When are you going to suck it up and realize that you

can't get away from this by ignoring it?"

I slammed my fist on the desk, rage beginning to take hold

at her words. It always led to a fight alright. Because she
couldn't seem to let things go. But I didn't have to listen to it
in my own office. "Get out!"

Beth glared at me, shoved her salad away, and stood. The

chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor and then tipped

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over backward. She turned and started for the door, paused,
but didn't turn around. "You used to say that you wish Jake
had killed you that night. I think he did—you just haven't
realized it yet."

With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I weighed going after her against just staying put and letting
her cool off. We'd fought over this same thing so many times
now though, that I settled on letting her cool. But damn it,
there wasn't an easy answer or an easy fix to any of this.

The phone rang and I raised a brow. She never got over

things that quickly. I picked up the handset and pressed the
'talk' button. "Russell Construction..." A long silence tempted
me to hang up, but the line crackled and I realized it was still
open. "Hello?"

"Hello, Ethan."
Jake.
The sound of his voice sent waves of dread through me.

My stomach knotted and lunch threatened to make a
reappearance. The one and only reason he ever called was to
fuck with my head. The sad part about it was that it always
worked.

"Jake." I aimed for keeping my voice neutral. "It hasn't

been long enough."

"Not missing me yet?"
"Hardly."
"Pity." He sounded amused. "What am I going to have to

do to get your respect, pup? Perhaps some time in my
dungeon would help your issues with authority."

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A low, rumbling growl rose from my throat. "Not

interested."

"You were at one time." His tone was syrupy sweet, but I

knew the intent behind the words was nothing but. "I
remember a time when you begged: for me, for my touch.
You begged me to help you let it all go..."

I clenched my eyes tightly, blocking out images of the

past, of me in his arms, in his bed—trying to fight my way out
of his grip as razor-sharp claws and teeth tore into my flesh.
The worst part of the whole ordeal was when he sank those
teeth into my throat. As my own hot blood spurted from my
neck, I'd come. Come so hard that at that very moment, I
hadn't cared whether I lived or died.

After it had ended and I realized just what I'd become, I'd

prayed for death—had sought it out as if it were the perfect
elixir for all my problems. Unfortunately, lycanthropy came
with a healthy dose of immortality instead. Death, for me,
was like the edge of the horizon that I could see so plainly,
but could never seem to reach.

"You are a piss-poor source of entertainment, Ethan."
I was about to tell him just what I'd find entertaining—

which had to do with him and death and excruciating pain—
when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and my
skin began to tingle. I wasn't alone.

I slowly turned in the chair to face the door. A man stood

in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He was
completely at ease, just waiting, watching. Light brown hair
fell in soft waves down to his shoulders, half of his face and
one eye hidden by an almost strategic cascade of bangs. He

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by Rob Knight

straightened a little and that cascade of hair fell away,
revealing a long, ugly scar from the mid-point of his jaw line,
up his cheek, and disappearing into his hairline just above his
right ear.

He was beautiful without the scar. With the scar, he was

still beautiful, but it gave him a more rugged look. Piercing
green eyes met mine, the corners crinkling just a little when
he smiled. For a moment, all I could do was stare.

The man pointed to the phone. "I don't want to interrupt."
I looked down at the phone in my hand and shook my

head as I pressed the talk button, turning it off. Oh man, was
that going to piss Jake off. "You're not. What can I do for
you?" My groin tightened, my body knowing exactly what I
wanted to do for him.

He started toward the desk, but hesitated. "Are you sure? I

can come back later."

I realized he was looking at the spread of Styrofoam plates

and stood, gathering them up to put in the discarded brown
paper bag. "Have a seat, please. I'll get this out of the way."

The man continued walking, and while I put the last plate

in the bag, I tried like hell not to notice the way his denim
jeans hugged his thighs and crotch in all the right places. Just
before he sat down, he extended a hand.

"Noah Weber."
My hand slid into his and our eyes met again. The entire

world fucking stopped as I opened my mouth to say, 'Nice to
meet you, I'm Ethan', and instead said, "What the fuck do
you want?"

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He pulled his hand away and his expression went from

friendly to confused. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Fucking Jake sent you here to get under my skin in

person now, too?" I clenched my hands into fists, body tight,
ready for a fight.

The man, Noah, bit at his lip. "Actually, I came because I

heard that you wouldn't rip me off with a high price and a
shoddy job." He studied me for a moment, then started to
turn away. "Maybe this was a mistake. I just thought..."

I watched him walk back across the trailer, tried to ignore

that ass in those tight Wrangler jeans, and realized that
whatever he might be, he hadn't been sent by Jake. He was
too nice, too sincere. But he was still a ... Aw, fuck. Money
was money.

I moved around the desk and went after him. "Wait! Don't

go." He paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back
at me over his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I thought you might have
been sent by—"

"By the jerk on the phone?"
"Uh..." I wondered how long he'd been in the room, how

much he'd heard of my conversation with Jake. It made me
nervous and more than a little uncomfortable. "Yeah."

He turned and leaned against the door frame again, arms

crossed over his chest. After studying me for a moment or
two, he smiled, the gesture reflected genuinely in his eyes.
His hand went out to me again. "Maybe we can try this again.
I'm Noah."

"Ethan." I took his hand, holding on for far longer than

necessary, realizing this was the first time I'd been in the

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same room with another of my kind who wasn't trying to kill
me on sight. But then again, give it time. "How can I help
you?"

"First, I should apologize. This is your space and me just

waltzing in here and catching you off guard was a shitty thing
for—"

"It's an office. Anyone can come and go freely."
"Unless you're not quite human," he said with a slight

smile. "I know that if it were reversed, I might have been on
the defensive, too."

That smile drew my gaze to his lips. When his tongue

moved across his bottom lip, my eyes followed. I wanted to
taste along the path his tongue had just traveled. Just there,
at the corner of his mouth, to lick along the curve of that
smile. His hand squeezed mine and he began pulling me
closer. It was only then I realized that I hadn't let go of him.

I wanted to pull away. To not be the bumbling idiot

wanting to touch and taste a man—well, mostly—I'd never
met until a few minutes before. The only problem was that I
couldn't seem to move.

Noah took another step, closing the distance between us

while pushing me back against the wall. My mind was racing,
want and should warring back and forth as all the blood in my
body rushed to my dick. Noah buried his face against my neck
and instead of pushing him away, all I managed to do was
melt in his arms.

"You smell so good." His voice was deep and throaty and

all I could think of was sex, sex, sex. Here, now—on the floor,
over my desk, up against the wall. His breath was hot at my

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ear, across my jaw. He paused, the tip of his nose brushing
mine. "I have to admit, I want a taste, too."

I framed his face in my hands and pulled him closer,

licking at the corner of his mouth before dragging my tongue
across his bottom lip. He tasted of strong coffee and
something sugary sweet, yeasty, like pastries. I pushed my
tongue between his parted lips and he groaned and sank
against me, just managing to brace himself against the wall
before his knees buckled.

He didn't return the kiss as I'd expected. Instead, he

pulled back, looking at me as if he wasn't sure what had
happened. It made me throw my defenses up and I started to
push him away.

"That shouldn't have happened."
"Because it's a conflict of interest between you and a

client?" His thumb brushed my lips. "Or because you weren't
ready to stop?"

"I don't even know you!" I pushed away from the wall, but

he blocked my path. "And you're not a client."

"Well, now, see ... I was working on that whole client part

of the deal before you chased me down and started getting all
touchy-feely on me."

I tried like hell to glare and stare him down, but his grin

seemed to be contagious. I managed a smirk and shook my
head. "Very funny."

"I see you laughing."
He laughed and pushed me back against the wall. Before

my reflexes even kicked in to slug him, his lips covered mine.
A long, chaste kiss led to several longer kisses and then his

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tongue pushed into my mouth, hard and insistent. It was as if
we'd known each other for years instead of minutes.

Every part of me responded to his touch, his taste. Part of

my brain screamed out in warning for me to stop, but each
and every warning was silenced by a greater need for more.
In moments, we were on the floor, kissing and touching and
rubbing.

Noah fumbled with the button and zipper of my jeans,

rising up off me just enough to push my pants down to my
thighs. Jean-clad legs bracketing my own bare ones, he
leaned back in and pushed my shirt up, tucking it behind my
head. I reached for his shirt, put he shook his head and
grasped my wrists, pushing my arms down to my sides. He
licked at my lips, down my throat, and began working in a
downward trail.

His tongue rasped against one nipple, then the other, and

then he began licking a long, straight line down the middle of
my belly. Straining my head up, I watched as he tortured me
with his tongue. When he got to the base of my cock, he
stopped and glanced up at me.

"You want me to stop?"
I shook my head, searching for words.
"Tell me, then."
"What?"
"What do you want me to do next?"
My hips pretty much answered for me, arching up, seeking

him out. He grinned and acted like he was about to flick his
tongue along my length, but then he stopped.

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"Tell me, Ethan." His warm breath washed over me with

each word. "What do you want me to do next?"

I arched my hips up deliberately, hand sliding down and

grasping my cock, stroking until a bead of precome leaked
from the tip.

"Suck me, Noah. Give me your mouth."
He wrapped a hand around mine and stroked up and down

with me, eyes never leaving mine as his tongue darted out
and licked the clear drops away. My free hand found his head,
fingers tangling in soft, brown hair. He pushed my other hand
away and took me into his mouth, slowly swallowing me down
until his nose was buried in my pubic hair.

Noah inhaled deeply and groaned, the vibrations sending

shockwaves through my cock and up my spine. He began to
move up and down, lips and tongue teasing and playing. His
teeth closed lightly around the base of my cock and on the
next movement up, he scraped his teeth along the entire
length of my shaft and nipped lightly at the crown.

I nearly screamed, hips bucking up hard.
He pulled back, taking me in his hand, licking me in the

most obscene ways before he tongued at my slit.

My head hit the floor, eyes clenching, belly going tight.

"Fuck..."

"On the first date? Not usually."
I grabbed at his shirt and pulled him up for a kiss, hands

slipping between us to unfasten his jeans. Getting them
undone was easy, but getting them down was next to
impossible while locked in a kiss. He buried his face into my
neck, sucking and licking as he helped push his jeans down.

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He yanked his T-shirt up and only then did he settle down
over me.

His mouth found mine again just as his cock slid over

mine. I'd never felt anything so fucking good. Noah's tongue
pushed into my mouth, searching, wanting. Soon, we were
rocking and pushing, holding each other tight, cocks sliding
back and forth.

Noah whimpered, parted lips just resting against mine as

his thrusts began to speed. "Feel so good, Ethan."

"Don't stop," I groaned. "Just..."
"You're my exception—first date, every date." He panted

and gasped, sounding as if he was so close to coming. His
hands bracketed my face, eyes meeting mine for a few brief
seconds before clenching tight. "Oh, God ... I want to feel you
come, Ethan."

My hands moved to his ass, pushing up hard and fast,

holding him against me. Fire shot down my spine, balls
drawing tight. His weight shifted just slightly and it pushed
me over the edge. Back bowed and body taut, heat spread
between us. I gasped and moaned and sought him out for a
kiss, needing to taste him.

"Come on, Noah." I bit hard at his bottom lip. "On me. All

over me."

Noah jerked hard and came, his heat adding to my own.

He relaxed a little, but held himself up on his elbows on either
side of my head. He smiled down at me, eyes shining. "Very
nice to meet you, Ethan."

I poked him in the ribs, laughing. "Likewise."
"Now, about me becoming a client..."

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* * * *

Noah and I cleaned up in my private bathroom, but when I

brushed against him while reaching for a towel, things had
sparked again. I managed to get out the door, but not before
he grabbed me by the back of my neck and kissed me again.
After I regained my senses, I backed out the door and shut it
behind me.

"Be out in a sec," Noah called out.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and made my way to

my desk. I didn't sit in my chair, just leaned against the front
of the desk, waiting. After a few minutes, I heard the water
shut off and a pleased hum from Noah as he began tucking
himself back into his clothes. Before Noah came out of the
bathroom, though, the front door opened and Beth walked in.

She took one look at me and raised a brow. "Everything

okay with—"

"Damn," I heard Noah say as the door opened. I bit my lip

hard, hoping that when he walked into the room, he was fully
clothed. "I haven't come that hard ... ever."

Beth looked at me in shock and I rubbed at the back of my

neck, grimacing. Noah exited the small hallway and when he
saw Beth, he came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't
know you had..."

"Uh-huh." Beth scoffed.
Noah looked so miserable at having said anything that I

knew he'd not been paying attention to anything other than
how good he was feeling. I met his eyes and smiled, wanting
him to know that it'd be okay. That whatever the fuck had

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happened between us was all good. He studied me for a few
seconds, and then continued into the room.

"Beth, honey, meet Noah. Noah, meet Beth."
Noah extended his hand politely. "Nice to meet you."
Beth stared at Noah's hand, frowned, then looked back at

me. "I was just going to tell you that I'd given some guy at
the diner your name a few days ago, but I see that he's
already found you."

"I should go," Noah said.
"Uh-huh," Beth agreed.
"Don't go." I grumbled and glared at Beth. "Could you be

any more of a bitch right now?"

"Probably." She shrugged and stalked toward the door.

"Call me when the blood returns to your brain. God knows
you've lost your fucking mind."

Noah started to come closer but stopped after only a few

steps. "Please tell me she's not a girlfriend or fiancé or—"

"No! She's just a friend."
"Really?" He closed the distance between us and worked

his way to stand between my legs. "Does she know that?"

"Of course she does."
"Hmm. Maybe she needs to be reminded of that." His

hands curled around my hips and he tugged me away from
the desk and up against him. "She's totally in love with you."

"Totally?"
"Mmmhmm," he murmured as his lips found mine again.
As much as I hated to, I pushed him back. "What did you

come here for, Noah?"

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"I really do need someone to do some repairs. I've been

managing on my own for a while, but I think I might have
been making things worse instead of better."

It was awkward, talking to him like this. If we were going

to do business, I could at least pretend that it wasn't any
problem keeping my hands off him. I edged around the desk,
but pointed to the chair on the other side.

"Okay then, tell me what you've got." I sat down in the

chair and grabbed a notepad and pencil. "Construction or
repair?"

He sat across from me, but leaned on the desk with his

elbows. "A little of both, actually. We're wanting to upgrade
our doors and windows to make things more efficient, but
we're also wanting to put in a solar cell system."

"Solar isn't all that efficient, cost-wise."
"Oh, I know. But we've been left too many times without

any power at all when a blizzard has come through or the
lines have iced over."

"So, you don't want to do away with electric in favor of the

solar?"

He shook his head. "That would be stupid, considering just

how much it cost us to get it up there in the first place. Plus, I
do like the finer things in life. I have no interest in trading my
restaurant class refrigerator for a tiny thing I can barely fit a
twelve-pack into."

I nodded and started scribbling up a few notes. "Are you

aware of how much a solar cell system costs to install and
maintain?"

"I do." He grinned. "And trust me, cost isn't an issue."

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"Okay..." I pulled a calculator close and glanced at him.

"How big is your place?"

"Huge."
"Come on, Noah."
"Sorry. I'd say it's right at around ten-thousand square

feet, not including the garages."

I blinked. "Ten—"
"Thousand." His eyes glittered. "Tell me you have to see it

in order to give me a price on it all."

"Actually, I do, but—"
"Great. So, get your work things together so you'll be able

to do all the calculations, pack you a bag, and we'll get
going."

"It's not that simple," I said. "Even if I can do the job—and

I'm not saying I will—my crews are tied up on other jobs that
take priority."

"That's another thing," Noah said with a little hesitation.

"You would do this job without a crew."

"It's impossible for me to do that size of a job on my own."
"You won't be doing it alone." He shifted in his chair

uncomfortably. "We can't risk the exposure, Ethan. I'm sure
you understand this."

I shook my head. "No, not really."
"Pack a bag and come with me. Let me show you instead

of sitting here and explaining it all to you, only for you to tell
me no."

"You do realize that you're looking at nearly half a million

for supplies and labor..."

"If you do the job, I'll double it."

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"I don't know, Noah."
"I'll double it and add in payment for a full crew."
"But I won't have a crew. I can't accept payment for—"
"Please don't make me find a human to do this. I don't

think I could live with what would have to happen once the
job was done."

While I'd never been involved with a pack—other than the

threats from Jake—I knew that they tended to protect their
own in whatever way they felt necessary. If that meant
eliminating a person who posed a threat to them or their well-
being, then that was a sacrifice they were willing to make.

But could I deal with being around so many werewolves at

one time? Noah was one thing. I felt this weird sense of
familiarity with him that I'd never felt with anyone else
before. An entire pack might be more than I could handle.

And then there was the money. If I did this job, it would

pay everyone on my entire crew a monthly salary through the
winter and well into the spring. It was truly an offer I couldn't
afford to pass up.

I sat back in my chair and sighed, the pros far out-

weighing the cons. "I'm not making any promises."

* * * *

I excused myself from Noah and told him I'd be right back.

I went into one of the back rooms and opened up a spare
closet. For a moment I just stared at the overnight bag at the
foot of the closet. What the hell was I doing?

Not just the overnight trip to give an estimate on a job,

but with Noah, too. Red flags and warning bells should have

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been going off from the moment Noah had stepped foot onto
the property. It was too simple with him, too easy. From my
experience, easy meant trouble.

And I'd had enough trouble in the last two years.
I'd managed to avoid any others of my kind for nearly a

year now, except for the random calls and gifts from Jake.
The gifts weren't exactly gifts either. Most of the time they
were pieces and parts of dead things—sometimes human,
sometimes not—left in the oddest of places so that I was
always guaranteed to find them. The worse was a human
penis stuffed down inside a container of leftovers.

Bile rose in my throat at the memory. This was such a

mistake. No matter how easy things seemed with Noah, it
was wrong. This whole situation was wrong and I just needed
to back the hell out and...

Noah's arms slid around my waist and he rested his chin

on my shoulder. "I think the clothes are supposed to go inside
the bag."

"I'm not going." My words were whispered, even though I

hadn't meant them to be. "You'll ... I ... Find someone else,
Noah."

"No." He hugged me tight against him, and I could feel him

shaking his head. "No, no, no ... Don't do this, Ethan. Please,
just give it a chance. I promise it's safe."

Safe.
Dread crept into my gut. "Why would you say that? Why

would it be anything other than—"

"Jake's done a number on you."

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At the mention of his name, I froze. "I never mentioned

him. Not by name."

"Yes, you did. When you thought he sent me." He kissed

just below my ear, sighing, warm breath making me shudder.
"Did you think that I would hire just anyone to work at the
compound without doing a bit of investigating first?"

I shrugged. "People do it all the time."
"That's my home—my safe and sacred place. Humans pose

a bit of a problem, in that regard. They come and go and they
talk about the huge mansion nestled high up in the
mountains. Soon, others want to see it for themselves
because it seems so very unlikely that far out of the way. And
suddenly there's traffic where there once was none, all
because someone couldn't keep quiet. Because they couldn't
understand the most primal need for privacy."

"How many have you killed for that?"
"Does it matter?"
For some reason, it did. A lot.
I nodded, but couldn't bring myself to say the actual

words.

Noah dropped his arms from around my waist, but instead

of backing away, he took my hands, threaded his fingers
through mine and brought both our arms around me again.
He was silent for a few minutes, then sighed.

"One. One human kill in the twelve years that I've been..."

He paused as if searching for a word. "...as I am."

"Just one?"
"Just one," he said. "Six years ago, we hired someone to

fix the chimneys. The brick was old and crumbling and

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burning the fireplaces had become more dangerous than we
wanted to chance. The guy was always snooping, you know?
Always in places where there were no fireplaces. I let it go
and let it go, but never let my guard down. When the job was
finally finished, I was more than relieved. He collected his pay
and left."

"But that wasn't the end of it?"
"About two weeks later, we were having a pack meeting. I

got pissy with something someone said and went outside to
cool off. While I'm standing there fuming, arguing with my
wolf on whether I wanted to shift and run off my anger—I
catch a scent of an intruder on the breeze. An intruder I more
than recognized.

"It was after midnight. Far too late to be doing anything

other than snooping. I located him and confronted him, not
knowing or really caring what all he'd seen. He put up façade
of being the big, tough guy—like he wasn't scared—but fear
just oozed from each and every pore. And the more that acrid
stank wafted off him, the more threatened I felt. But I still
wasn't ready to kill him for it. That is, until he reached for a
gun and a camera with a night-vision lens fell out instead."

"Damn."
Noah nodded and kept going. "That sealed his death

warrant. It was a threat I couldn't ignore. He wasn't only a
threat to me, but to the entire pack."

I nodded myself in understanding. If the human population

suddenly found out that werewolves walked among them,
chaos would ensue. But something lingered in the back of my

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mind; something I knew was wrong to ask, to even suggest,
but I had to know.

"Did you ... eat him?"
He laughed and hugged me even tighter, not backing away

like I thought he would. "I have no desire for human flesh. A
little blood with sex? Oh, fuck yes. But I don't eat people."

The mere mention of sex sent blood rushing to my dick.

"Is the rest of your pack like you?"

"They're probably way too uptight to enjoy a little blood

with their sex."

I elbowed him in the gut. "I'm serious."
"We're a touchy-feely bunch. We like to eat, to laugh, to

be together when we can. We also fight like crazy and get
pissy when we've been together too long." He paused and
turned me to face him. "We shift and we hunt, but we don't
eat people."

"I didn't mean to offend you."
"Oh, no." He stepped closer and caught my face between

his hands. "It takes much more than that to offend me."

In that moment, I would have gone anywhere, done

anything, just to be with him. He was so sincere, so real. But
that still didn't change one important fact: I didn't know him.
So why was I so comfortable with him? And why did I feel like
this was so much more than a case of instant lust?

"I don't even know you, Noah." I chewed at my bottom lip,

trying like hell to figure out what I was going to do. "Don't
know what happened between us—"

"What's happening between us," he corrected.

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I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, almost

whimpering as his scent filled me. Earthy, fresh, and clean,
with a hint of spice that I couldn't quite pinpoint—there
wasn't a hint of cologne. I knew, without a doubt, that I could
find him anywhere. That I could seek him out by his scent
alone. My heart raced, sending little tingles of adrenaline
through me.

"Look at me, Ethan." When I opened my eyes, our gazes

locked. He leaned in closer, our noses brushing lightly, lips so
close I could feel each and every breath he exhaled. "I want
you to do the job. But even if you decide you can't or won't,
for whatever reason, I still want to see you."

"Noah, I—" I started to tell him that it would never work,

that this was all moving way too fast for me, but he silenced
me with a kiss. Any protest I had in mind quickly
disappeared. In fact, I found myself with arms wrapped
around his waist, hands sliding down to cup his ass and pull
him against me.

A low, rumbling growl was the only warning before Noah

grabbed me up and carried me to the small, twin-sized bed in
the far corner. As soon as my back hit the mattress, he let
me go just long enough to push my shirt up and off and get
my jeans unfastened and pulled down past my knees. Instead
of bothering with my boots, he lifted my legs over his head.
Jeans still caught around my ankles, I worked my legs down
around his hips and yanked him toward me.

He caught himself from falling with one hand against the

bed. His other hand was furiously working at his jeans and
when he got them undone, he stretched up and bit at my

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lower lip, shoving his pants down at the same time. I shifted
and pulled us closer together, groaning when the heat of him
pressed against my ass.

For a few moments, he just sort of rubbed against me,

alternating with kissing me and watching me—as if waiting for
me to say no. I should have been saying no, shouldn't have
been lying there instead with my feet in the air, ass bared
and waiting for him to fuck me. But 'no' wasn't one of the
words coming out in panted whispers and pleas. Aggravated
that he wasn't buried inside me yet, I shifted and yanked him
hard with a pull of my legs.

"Stop teasing, Noah."
Finally, he reached between us and pressed the head of his

dick against my hole. "You have anything? Need anything?"

"You. Inside me."
And as he started pushing into me, I remembered just how

long it'd been. And just who had fucked me last. Or maybe
that should have been what. That very last time over the
course of those two days—Jake had been fully shifted.
Memories of the pain and the fear flooded my thoughts and
by the time Noah slid home, I was covered in sweat and
shaking.

Noah paused, a look of horror settling on his face. "Oh

God, I didn't mean to—"

"No, I just..." I clenched my eyes tightly, as if that would

make the memories of Jake go away. "I haven't ... Haven't
been with anyone since I was..."

"Since Jake." His words were a statement, not a question.
All I could manage was a nod.

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Instead of pulling away, like I thought he would, he sank

down against me. "And it's all coming back to you?"

"I'm sorry," I said softly, shifting my legs a little. "This ...

wasn't quite how I imagined this working out."

He laughed and the subtle movement made his cock bump

just the right spot. I gasped out in surprise, hands clutching
at Noah's arms. He took one of my hands and put it to his
lips, kissing from my palm to the tips of my fingers before
sucking two fingers into his mouth. I sucked my bottom lip
between my teeth, watching, feeling, the pain and fear only a
short time before giving way to a something so totally new
and unfamiliar.

After a few minutes of him teasing and sucking at my

fingers, he pulled my fingers from his mouth and pushed my
hand between us, guiding me to touch at my hole where he
still filled me. He moved my fingers to the base of his shaft,
then back and forth along the stretched skin.

I soon found myself rocking against him, rubbing my

fingers harder and harder where we were joined.

"Look at me, Ethan."
But I was afraid to. Afraid that if I opened my eyes, Noah's

face wasn't the one I'd see. Teeth closed around my left
nipple, just hard enough to take my breath away, but then
that brief pain was soothed by a mix of licks, sucks, and
kisses. Another bite came and I lifted my head, gasping.

"Damn it, Noah!"
He just smiled. "I want you looking at me."
"I am looking at you."

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"Keep looking at me." He pulled back a little, and then

pushed back inside me. "I want you to see that it's me inside
you, me making you feel so good."

Noah was so far away from being anything like Jake. I

knew in my gut that if I asked Noah to stop—for whatever
reason—he would. Jake wouldn't have given a shit.

I slid my hand lower, fingers teasing his balls. His head fell

to my shoulder and he moaned, pulling out just as bit as he
tried to push back into my touch. I tightened my legs around
his hips and pulled him in, ass clamping down around him.

"Christ, don't do that." He bit hard at his lip. "I'll fucking

come before we ever get started."

"Then you better hurry." I pulled my hand from between

us and grabbed at his ass, fingers slipping down his crack.

"Oh no!" He shuddered and grabbed both of my hands,

pinning them above my head. "That's not playing fair."

"I'm all about fair." I strained up and licked at his throat

before nipping him hard. "I want you."

"Got me."
"Fuck me, Noah."
He stared down at me for about half a second before

pushing hard and deep. He pegged my gland on that first
thrust and on every single one that followed. I could do
nothing but pant and grunt and shove my ass up to meet him
each time. His mouth found mine, tongue pushing between
my lips, hard and insistent.

I sucked his tongue into my mouth and his grip on my

hands faltered. I immediately slid my hands between us,
fingers finding his nipples, twisting and pulling. He nearly

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screamed into the kiss and slid his own hand between us,
fisting my cock. That sent me flying right over the edge and I
exploded, ass clamping down, come coating his fingers.

"Oh, fuck ... Ethan."
He started to pull out, but I shook my head, holding him

close. "In me. Want to feel you come."

Noah groaned and shoved deep, filling me with his heat. I

swallowed down each and every moan and cry through the
kiss. He finally sank down against me, burying his face into
my neck. The labored breaths against my neck made me
shudder, but not wanting him to think I was ready to move, I
held him tight.

I wasn't sure what this was, but I knew one thing for sure:

this wasn't a case of instant lust. Admitting that to myself was
one thing. Admitting it to Noah? Well, I wasn't sure I was
ready to go that far.

Yet.
Noah's stomach growled, long and loud, and he laughed.

"You want to head over to the Mexican food place across the
river and have some dinner before we leave town?"

"I think we got this backward, Noah. Aren't we supposed

to have dinner before we fuck?"

He raised his head and grinned. "See, it's that whole 'have

dessert before dinner' thing."

I raised a brow. "I'm not sure I follow."
"Well, if I die during dinner, I'll have missed out on dessert

and will leave this world still wanting and unhappy." He
brushed his lips against mine, teasing. "This way, if I die

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during dinner? I'll have had everything I needed to make me
happy and send me on my way."

"Oh, you are such a suck up."
"You start talking sucking and I'm going to die of

starvation."

I rolled my eyes and pushed at him. "Get us untangled and

I'll buy dinner."

* * * *

After several rounds of chips and salsa and a few different

appetizers, we'd stuffed ourselves on grilled fajitas and
roasted red peppers. And as if that hadn't been enough, Noah
ordered us coffee and sopapillas. Dripping honey had proved
to be more than interesting and oh-so-dangerous in a public
place.

One of the waiters had actually stepped in front of our

table and cleared his throat, whispering that we were drawing
stares. I had a feeling that Noah hadn't really cared, one way
or the other, but I was so embarrassed I asked for the check.

The drive was silent as we headed out of town. As hard as

I tried to find a reason to tell him to turn the Jeep around, I
kept coming up empty. The truth of it all was that, as much
as I didn't want to believe it myself, I wanted to be with him.
I liked his company. Liked him.

When we turned off onto highway 84 just outside of

Pagosa Springs, Noah reached over and squeezed my hand.
"I'm not turning back."

"I don't want you to."

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"Good. I guess that means we're making progress." He let

go of my hand and shifted in the driver's seat. After a few
minutes, he cleared his throat. "The rest of the pack isn't at
the house yet. A couple of them will be coming in later this
evening, the rest should be in by the weekend."

"Okay," I said slowly, not sure why he was telling me this.
"Mack is there, though. He may not be friendly, at first.

It's nothing personal, just the way he is."

"He's Alpha of the pack?"
Noah nodded. "He's protective. Wants the pack to be safe,

you know?"

My experience with anything pack had never been good. I

got the general idea that Jake was protective of his pack, but
I think it had more to do with him losing something that he
considered his than with the safety of his pack members.

There was no doubt in my mind that he thought of me as

his.

"I have to admit, I know next to nothing about packs and

all of that. I've spent so much time trying to get away from
Jack and anything having to do with his pack, that I've not
learned much."

"You haven't really wanted to either." His words weren't

accusing, but they seemed awfully close. "Have you? I mean,
the way you were ... I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"No, no," I said. "Say what you were going to say."
He sighed and shook his head. "The way we're turned isn't

exactly pleasant. If you don't have someone there who can
hold your hand and walk you through it and let you know that
it's going to be okay—it can be hard. Really hard."

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"No shit." I shifted away from him and toward my door,

trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm not sure I'd
wish that on my worst enemy."

"I'm sorry, Ethan."
I shrugged, leaning my head against the cool window. "Not

your fault."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said softly.
His words didn't make any sense, but I wasn't in the mood

to break down our conversation. I didn't like talking about
what I was, but I sure as hell didn't like talking about how it
had happened. For the next few miles, I closed my eyes and
tried to let the up and down and curve of the road put me at
ease. It had just begun to work when Noah stepped on the
brake and slowed before putting on the blinker. As he waited
for a truck to pass, I noticed the name of the road and
frowned.

"What are we doing here?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," I said, pointing to the road sign, "there is

nothing here. Buckles Lake Road is nothing but an old logging
road."

"To most, it is."
"Noah, don't fuck with me."
"Don't tell me you're doubting me now." He turned onto

the road and only drove a few yards before slamming on the
break. "Do you honestly think that—"

"Goddamn it, Noah! I don't know what to think, okay?" I

sat back, running my hands through my hair in frustration.

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"Today is the first time I've ever been around someone like
me that wasn't trying to kill me."

"I wouldn't do that to you."
"And tell me why I'm supposed to just take your word for

that? Why am I supposed to abandon everything I've ever
learned about this world just because you seem like a nice
guy?"

Noah's jaw tightened. "That's what you think about me?

That I'm a nice guy? Gee ... thanks."

"From my experience? Too nice."
He put the Jeep in park and sat back in his seat, staring

out at the dirt road before us. Tension was thick in the air,
but beneath that there was something else—an air of
dejection that had become more and more familiar to me in
recent years.

It was only then that I realized how what I'd said might

have sounded to him. That I thought he was too nice,
therefore up to something. Maybe all the shit with Jake had
done more damage to my head than I thought. Before I could
even begin to form some sort of apology, Noah spoke.

"I have no doubt that what happened to you was fucking

awful." He paused and took a deep breath, but didn't look
over at me. "But please don't ever think that I've got some
ulterior motive in anything I do or say."

"I didn't mean—"
"I never make a promise I'm not absolutely sure I can

keep. If I say I'll do something, it would take an act of God or
nature to stop me from doing it." He finally looked over at
me. "And I never say anything I don't mean."

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"I don't know anyone like that."
"I'm as straight up as they come. Everything I've done and

said since I walked through your door has been straight from
the heart." He leaned over the console and caught my face
between his hands. "So, if I were to tell you that I'm already
falling hard for you..."

The feelings were all so new to me, but there was no way

that I was just going sit back and let him open himself up to
me and then be an asshole and not be honest in return. Truth
was, in the hours since we'd met, I'd never felt that we were
mere strangers.

"I'd say that it all seems too fast and part of me says we

should slow down."

One of his hands moved to the back of my neck, pulling

me closer. His other hand traveled down my chest and
stopped at my crotch. He rubbed the heel of his hand back
and forth over my dick through the material of my jeans.

"And what does the other part of you say?"
I brought his teasing hand back up to my chest. "This part

of me says that slow is over-rated and I just need to go with
my gut instinct."

"You can trust me, Ethan. I can promise you that."
At my nod, Noah shifted and sat back in his seat. He put

the Jeep in gear and we started ahead on the dirt road. I slid
a little more toward the console, avoiding the door. I hated
this road. I'd been up it looking for a hiking trail when I first
moved into the area. Problem was, it was nothing but an old
logging road and wasn't really kept up in any way.

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It wasn't so bad near the bottom of the mountain. But the

further up you went, the road curved and twisted up the
mountain and there were no guardrails to stop you if the
vehicle started to slide in the dirt or if you caught a curve a
little too wide. The drops were steep and sudden and just
looking out the window at the trees and rocks below could
give me a severe case of vertigo.

"You okay?" Noah asked after a while.
"Mmmhmm."
"Don't like heights?"
I shook my head just slightly, not wanting to rock the Jeep

any at all. Now, we were so high up that the trees had gotten
thicker along the side of the road. The only problem was that
the parts of the trees we were seeing were the top branches.
In my opinion, trees were to be gazed up at, not gazed down
upon.

"We'll even out soon; we're just about to the cow pens."
"Yeah, but it doesn't stay evened out," I said.
"Ethan, honey, I can drive this road with my eyes closed."
"Oh, please don't."
My grip on the seat and console tightened as he took a

sharp curve. I soon decided it was better to just close my
eyes until he stopped driving. It all worked fine until Ethan
stepped on the break and said, "Uh oh."

My eyes flew open. "What? What's wrong?"
"Cows."
He pointed ahead and honked his horn. I looked out to see

four cows blocking the road. But they didn't seem concerned

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with us at all, just gave us a bored glance. Noah put the Jeep
in park and put on the emergency brake.

"Just sit tight."
Noah got out and I watched as he herded the cows back

past the Jeep in only a matter of minutes. He slid into the
driver's seat and leaned over and kissed me.

"Almost there," he said. "But this next part is going to be a

little rough."

"How rough?"
"We're leaving the main road so it'll be a little steep and a

lot of rough."

I frowned.
"Noah? Can I ask how you plan to get all of the building

materials up here? I mean, this road isn't really built for
pulling a trailer up."

"Sure it is," he laughed. "What do you think the logging

companies used when they were working out of here?"

"Well, I—"
"You just worry about ordering it and making sure we have

enough material and I will get it to the house." He squeezed
my hand, and then put the Jeep in gear. "Trust me."

Trust him.
Right.

* * * *

Noah hadn't been kidding. Steep and rough were putting it

lightly. I think I might have left permanent hand marks where
I'd gripped the console, the door, the dashboard. When we
pulled up in front of the house, however, all thoughts of the

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road quickly vanished. I got out, as did Noah, but reached
back inside for a pencil and notepad.

The house was absolutely beautiful, set out in the middle

of a flat, open area. The roof was all metal, but had been
painted a dark green, presumably to blend with the
surrounding trees. The flat rock exterior was a mix of grays
and greens, colors I had never seen used on a house before.

A covered porch went around the house for as far as I

could see, but the more I studied the house, the more I
scratched at my head. The place couldn't have been more
than five-thousand square feet.

"Didn't you tell me the place was around ten thousand

square feet?"

"It is." Noah grinned. "Let me show you around."
The front door opened as we neared the house. A man

stepped out onto the porch, arms crossed over his chest. The
look in his eyes was hard and unfriendly and I found myself
unable to look him in the eyes. Noah's hand closed around
mine.

"Ethan, this is Mack." Noah didn't so much gesture to me

as he did just sort of tug at my hand. "Mack, this is Ethan.
He's going to be getting us some figures together and maybe
doing some work around here."

I offered my free hand and smiled, but Mack just stood

there, unmoving. I dropped my hand, cleared my throat.
"Nice to meet you."

Mack grunted and looked over at Noah. "This the best you

could do?"

Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

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Noah stuck his tongue out at Mack. "Do you have to be

such a prick?"

Mack heaved a sigh and instead of lashing out at Noah, as

I'd expected, he just shook his head. Noah grabbed my hand
before anything more could be said and practically dragged
me around the east side of the house. On that side was a
large garage set off from the house. Noah gestured at the
garage.

"A place for you to work."
"I'm not—"
"I know, I know. No promises."
We continued on until we reached a set of French doors.

Noah opened one for me and waited until I went in before
following. I entered into a small den area. The room was
sparsely decorated with only a couch and a few chairs, but
seemed cozy enough. There was a bar on the opposite wall
and a fireplace at the north end of the room.

Noah moved up behind me and kissed the back of my neck

and urged me to walk with him. He led me to what seemed
like a hallway on first look, but turned out to be a staircase
leading down to another level.

I took one look at the lower level and shook my head. "My

God, how—?"

Noah winked. "Like it?"
I couldn't imagine how the house had been built with a

lower level as exquisite as this. Most of the time lower levels
were nothing but basement areas. Sometimes people took the
pains to finish them out, but without pumps and

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dehumidifiers and all the things needed to keep the area dry,
most people didn't bother.

But this house was damn near at the top of a mountain,

nearly nine thousand feet up in altitude. It wasn't the
drainage and humidity that would pose the biggest problem—
it was the rock.

"I take that look of shock on your face as a yes."
I nodded. "I'm just wondering how."
"Well, the house was here before I was, so I can't give you

a definite answer on that one." Noah bumped my shoulder
with his. "But Mack was an explosives expert back in his day.
Pretty sure he had friends in all the right places."

"It looks like it."
"The house is pretty much just a big rectangle. The top

and bottom levels are equal in size and shape, except for the
ceiling height. Bottom, of course, is just a little lower."

"What about utilities? Water, heat, electric panel? Show

me where everything is and tell me how it works?"

"You bet."
As we walked, Noah showed me where everything was

located on the lower level and explained to me about how
their water system worked, where the water supply was fed
from and how it was purified. I made notes and took a few
measurements, doing a few basic calculations.

Once we made it back to the stairs, Noah walked past me

and leaned against the railing. "So. What do you think?"

"I'll have to build a shelter for the battery cells up on the

first level. They need to be kept out of the elements, but they
also need to have a good way to ventilate."

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Noah chewed at his lip. "That mean you'll do it?"
"Might as well," I said with a smile. "I'd hate to break your

heart by saying no."

He closed the distance between us and threw his arms

around my shoulders, stealing a kiss. "And it would have, too.
I'd have been crushed."

I pocketed my notepad and pencil and wrapped my arms

around his waist, pulling him against me. "Now's your chance
to have second thoughts. If you're not sure you want me
around—"

"Shut up."
"I'm just saying..."
"You'll be lucky to have a moment's peace the entire time

you're here." Noah's eyes widened and he pulled away,
grabbing my hand. "I forgot! There's something else I
wanted."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."
I let him tug me up the stairs and out the French doors

again. He led me off the porch and we stopped after only a
few steps. Gesturing in a wide circle, he grinned.

"I ordered a hot tub a couple of weeks ago. I'd really,

really like something to enclose it in. I'd thought about a
steam room, but figured that the heat of the water would
create steam anyway and I'd get a close second."

I walked the area and thought on it for a moment. "You

know, I think it'd be cheaper with a kit build."

"The price isn't an issue."
"Okay, let me try a different angle here," I said. "A kit

would not only be cheaper, it would also go up more quickly

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and would be easier for me to do on my own or with a little
help from you."

"You know I'll help."
I couldn't stop my grin. "Great. The guy that also told me

he did more damage than good in keeping this place running
is going to help me."

"I knew you'd love that."
One of the French doors opened and a woman stepped

out. She was short and thin with graying black hair swept up
in a claw clip. Her eyes were dark and kind and there was a
friendly smile on her face. "Noah, Doug and Teresa are on
their way up."

Noah looked at his watch. "Damn. They're early for once."
The woman nodded and started to step back inside, but

Noah called after her. "Wait a minute, Grace."

"Yes?" She paused and looked back.
Noah pulled me along with him. "Ethan, this is Grace. She

does the awesome cooking around here, keeps us fed."

I extended my hand. "Nice to meet you, Grace."
"And it's nice to meet you, Ethan. Is there anything special

you like to eat?"

"No, ma'am. I just like to eat."
Grace winked. "You'll fit in just fine, then."
The sound of a car on the other side of the house drew our

attention. Grace excused herself to make tea and Noah led
me back around the side of the house. I wondered why we
didn't just go through and out the front door, but he pushed
me up against the wall just before we rounded the corner at
the front.

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"They're likely to be as friendly as Mack was," he said,

hands framing my face. "Except they get mean and pick
fights."

"Oh, that's nice to know."
"You've got me, though. Hopefully that'll make up for it."
I pressed my forehead to his, eyes closing as his scent

invaded my senses. "Just don't feed me to the wolves, okay?"

He tried to push me back so he could see my face, but I

just leaned into him even more, avoiding meeting his eyes.
He finally relented and pulled me close, lips pressed to my
ear. "My pack means the world to me, Ethan. But if I had to
choose ... it would be you."

"You don't even know me."
"I do know you." He did push me back then, eyes flashing,

palm pressing hard at my chest just over my heart. "Right
here, where it counts. God, Ethan, why can't you just accept
that?"

"Part of me does. Part of me just doesn't understand."
"And therein lies your problem, Ethan. You're constantly

fighting your instincts, even when you're trying not to." He
stepped back and smiled, but the smile was far from the
excited one he'd been wearing for most of the day. "I guess
it'll just take time."

He started to walk away, but I just couldn't leave it at

that. It didn't seem like it was good enough. For him, I
wanted to try. I caught his arm and met his eyes when he
looked up at me. "I promise to try to stop fighting so much."

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"That works for me." Noah smiled and locked his fingers

with mine. "Come on, I want to introduce you to Doug and
Teresa before dinner."

We walked hand-in-hand around the front of the house. A

man and woman were just walking up onto the porch, talking
amongst themselves. The man seemed rather short, but what
he lacked in height, he'd gained in muscle. He had short
blonde hair and was somewhat good looking, but his features
were so plain that his face was one that I could easily forget
over time.

The woman was tall and curvy and pretty in that old

Hollywood sort of way. There was a coldness in her
expression that immediately turned me off, though. I knew
that she was one person I'd rather not have to deal with on a
regular basis.

The man and woman stopped talking as Noah and I took

the steps. Noah let go of me to hug them both, but I
wondered if he felt the distance that I saw projected by them.
If he did, he didn't seem too bothered by it.

"Doug, Teresa." He gestured toward me. "I'd like you to

meet Ethan. He's going to be doing some work around here
and he's a good friend of—"

"Surely you're not introducing me the help, Noah." Teresa

scoffed and turned on her heel toward the front door. "I have
bags in the car."

Doug smiled and I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you."
But Doug just nodded and followed after Teresa. I let my

hand fall and sighed, shaking my head. "I sure hope they like
you more than they like me."

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* * * *

After dinner as guest to a bunch of cold-shouldered people,

I'd gone to the guest room that Grace had prepared for me.
Noah had some pack business to tend to, so I went to my
room alone. I'd dozed off as soon as I'd gotten out of the
shower, but something had woken me and I'd not been able
to go back to sleep. The quiet sounds of the house—some
people sleeping and others wandering the premises—made
me more than a little uncomfortable.

The light of the moon shining through the parted window

curtains irritated me, too. I was used to sleeping in a room
without windows and pitch-black darkness. I grabbed the
comforter up around me and turned over. Facing this way,
though, I got the bright red glare from the alarm clock. I
turned on my belly and buried my face into the pillow.

After a long while of shifting and cursing, I rolled over and

threw the comforter off. I sat up on the edge of the bed and
considered grabbing a pillow and the comforter and taking
them to the bathroom. But there was a window there, too.
This house was full of them.

I got up and walked over to one of the wide windows,

bracing myself against the sill. Something fluttered in a tree
nearby and I looked up just as a hawk settled on a branch. I
followed its gaze to find a mouse scurrying across the ground.

Part of me wanted the chase and the thrill—the other part

of me fought it desperately. But now, my skin itched like hell
and it was only a matter of time before I shifted. I clenched
my fists in frustration.

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Fuck.
The first few weeks after my attack, I'd tried like hell to

stop the shifts, and eventually, to just control the frequency.
But nothing ever worked. I soon realized that it was like
trying to control the weather. So I stopped fighting the shifts
and let them come.

But shifting was one thing. Hunting was another.
I'd hunted five times in two years. Every time I'd woken up

naked beside some slaughtered, half-eaten animal. When I
learned that I could lock myself up for the duration of my
shift, the hunting had stopped.

My wolf hadn't liked that.
I turned my attention back to the hawk just as he made a

dive from the tree toward the ground. He came up short and
as his feet hit the ground he danced and pranced and pecked
as if he'd caught his prey. The hawk paused and surveyed the
area around him before picking up its meal and taking flight. I
watched until the hawk landed in the crook of a tree branch
before sighing and looking away.

It was tempting to move to the other window, but the view

was blocked by large, thick bushes. I glanced at the door and
considered going downstairs for a walk. But that didn't seem
right. Was it wrong for guests to roam their host's property at
one in the morning?

I went back to the windows and looked out again, a small,

pitiful whine coming from somewhere deep. Before long, I
was pacing the floor between the windows and the door,
contemplating whether it would be rude to make myself at
home and go for a walk.

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Finally, I stopped at the main window and leaned on the

sill, resting my forehead against the glass. If I shifted now, I
would hunt. There would be no way I could stop myself—my
wolf, at least—from taking off and finding prey.

Damn it.
This was not what I needed.
"How long has it been since you hunted?"
Noah's voice was soft and husky from sleep, sounding

even more incredibly sexy than usual. I hadn't heard him
come in, didn't know how long he'd been there. I couldn't
seem to force myself to turn and face him, though. Letting
him this far in was just too much, but it didn't stop me from
answering him.

"Too long."
"Why is that?"
His hands slid around my waist, chest pressing against my

back as he placed a kiss at the back of my neck. Heat
radiated off him and I couldn't seem to stop myself from
leaning back. His kiss moved from the back to the side of my
neck and I shivered, goosebumps spreading over my entire
body.

"Didn't like waking up next to whatever I'd killed."
"Why would you ever do that?"
I shrugged and reached back only to find that he was

naked. "I don't want to talk about it."

Noah made a grunt of disapproval, but slid one of his

hands low against my belly. His fingers teased the line of hair
at my navel, slowly moving lower. My hips arched up
instinctively, seeking out his touch. When his fingers brushed

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the base of my cock, I pressed my hand over his and pushed
it lower.

He rubbed the heel of his hand down the length of my

shaft, then made a fist, stroking down, then up, pausing to
squeeze the head of my cock between his thumb and index
finger. My knees buckled and I had to brace myself on the
window ledge.

"Like that?" At my nod, his hand began moving again.

"Whatever the reason you haven't been hunting—"

"Noah..."
"Shh, let me finish." He scraped his teeth along my

shoulder, then bit down, stealing my breath. "You're going to
have to break down and just do it. You know that, don't you?"

"It scares me, Noah ... My wolf, hunting..." I shuddered as

he drew his tongue across the back of my neck. "Afraid of
hurting someone. Of what I'll wake up next to in the
morning."

"But he wants to hunt, doesn't he? Just watching the hawk

hunt has drawn him to the surface."

"I don't know how to hunt."
Noah froze. "No one took you out hunting with the pack

after you were turned?"

I shook my head.
"I can help you ... if you'll let me."
I'd managed to avoid that part of me for so long. I wasn't

sure that I could just give in and accept it now, even with
Noah's help. But what would happen if I didn't learn to deal
with this? Would it rear its ugly head when I was least

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expecting it? When I didn't answer, he pressed himself harder
against me.

"You can sate his desire to hunt with sex." He sucked at a

spot just beneath my ear. "But you have to let go, you have
to give in."

"I don't know if I can—"
"I can," he said. "Let my wolf help yours."
"Noah..."
"You can't hurt me, Ethan." He turned me to face him and

cupped the back of my neck, pulling me in close. "You can
bite me, bleed me, and fuck me—and all I'll ever want is
more."

Hands on his hips, I tugged him close, capturing his mouth

in a kiss. He pulled away and backed toward the bed, teasing
me, moving his hands down his belly to frame his cock. I
stalked toward him and with each step I took, he backed
away. Part of me wanted him to run. The other wanted him to
stop.

Either way, I would taste him—touch him.
He turned and bent over the edge of the bed, spreading

his legs, teasing me with a view of his ass, ball sack hanging
low and heavy. He reached beneath himself and up, sliding
the fingers of one hand along the crack of his ass, rubbing at
his hole. He shifted and went to his knees on the edge of the
bed, giving me a better view.

Blood rushed to my cock and as I moved closer, the musky

scent of sex became thick in the air. A growl escaped my
throat and even though I knew it didn't sound human, I was

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too hard to care. I moved closer, drawn by the sight, by his
scent.

I bent and licked his fingers, following the trail of where

they'd touched. That pretty hole tightened as my tongue
grazed it. I reached between his legs, cupped his balls, his
cock, and then slid my palm up his belly and to his chest. He
curled a little over the top of my arm and when my fingers
reached his mouth, he opened for me.

He sucked them a moment before he bit down hard. I

sucked in a quick breath and his scent washed through me. I
pulled my fingers from his mouth and slowly began to pull my
hand back, fingernails scraping along his skin as I moved.
Noah's body arched the closer I came to his cock and when I
finally reached it, I moved around it and pulled my hand
away.

He whimpered in frustration and started to turn over. I

grabbed him by the hips to stop him and pulled his ass up
higher, shoving my tongue into that pink hole. He squirmed
and pushed back, trying to get some sort of rhythm going. I
pulled back and sank my teeth into one ass cheek.

He bucked and nearly screamed, fighting to get away from

me. But the more he fought, the harder I bit. His muscles
began to bunch and stretch and he arched, reaching back to
catch my forearms. Long, sharp claws bit into my skin and
the scent of blood filled the air. I'd never seen anyone
partially shift so easily.

I not only liked it, I wanted to see more.
I pushed him forward onto the bed and he hit the mattress

with a grunt before rolling to his back. I followed him onto the

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bed and straddled his legs. The light brown hair on his belly
and chest was becoming thicker, muscle and bone shifting
and bunching beneath his skin. His green eyes flashed gold
and one clawed hand shot out and grabbed me by the throat
to try to pull me close.

I growled and swatted his arm away, only for him to grab

for me again. We ended up rolling across the bed, fighting for
the upper hand. The scent of blood became stronger and I
inhaled deeply, grabbing Noah and wrestling him onto his
belly. My own muscles began to bunch and slide beneath my
skin and I opened myself up, letting my wolf out.

Noah tried to buck me off of him, but I held him tight,

biting down hard on his shoulder. He yelped and struggled,
but the more he struggled, the more I liked it. I could feel my
heartbeat pounding in my chest, in my cock.

I began humping against him and when my unsheathed

cock finally brushed his hole, I held him still and slowly slid
into him. The sound that came from Noah was a mix of a
growl and a howl, and I answered it with my own growl as my
own face and mouth completed the shift. His ass was so tight,
so hot, so fucking perfect, all I could manage to do at first
was just enjoy the sensation of being inside him.

Noah stretched out on his belly, arms and legs going wide,

ass open and exposed, bushy tail off to the side as he gave
himself to me—to my wolf.

He growled and tossed me a look over his shoulder. "Fuck

me."

His words were distorted and gravelly, but my wolf

understood them just fine. I mounted him hard and fast and

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deep, clawed hands holding his hips steady, biting into his
furred skin. Pleasure shot through me and I gave in, pumping
steadily until I felt the orgasm begin to rip through me.

I bit down at the fur at the back of his neck as I filled him,

holding on desperately.

Noah began to shudder and jerk beneath me and as soon

as I relaxed against him, he stopped. I couldn't seem to pull
out of him, so I just lay there, panting in his ear. He began to
rock his hips and I growled, shoving myself deep.

He growled in return and flipped us over before I could

blink. Soon, I was lying on my back and Noah was riding me,
facing my hind feet. In minutes, he managed to turn himself
around so that he was facing me. The mischievous look in
those wolf eyes was all Noah.

He bent and licked at my muzzle, at my throat, nipping me

through my thick fur.

"It's gonna be a long night, lover."

* * * *

Noah moaned and stretched, drawing me out of a light

sleep. He'd snuggled in about as far as he could without
becoming a part of me. His body fit perfectly against mine,
back to my chest, ass pressed tightly to my groin. One of my
legs was between his and every once in a while he'd tighten
them around me and then relax.

I waited for him to shift again or to roll over, but he didn't.

Instead, his breathing grew steady and deep. His head was
nestled in the crook of my arm and with each little exhale, his

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breath tickled. While he was sleeping, I took the opportunity
to enjoy the view and the feeling.

So much had changed since Noah had waltzed into my life.

I felt so close to him, so at ease. It was difficult to
comprehend that, technically, we'd only known each other for
a matter of hours instead of days. I was falling for him so
hard, so fast—consequences be damned.

I moved his hair away from his neck and placed a kiss on

that soft, tanned skin. He shifted just enough to reveal the
scar along his cheek. I hadn't asked what had happened to
him. I figured if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. But I
had to admit, I was more than a little curious.

I reached up and traced along the scar, just letting my

fingers ghost across his skin. The scar was much deeper than
it looked. Whatever had happened, it had to have hurt like
hell.

"Ugly, isn't it?"
Damn. I hadn't meant to wake him.
"Ugly? There isn't a single part of you that's ugly."
"Then you haven't been looking at my face, have you?" His

voice was mellow, but I knew it wasn't just from sleep. "'S
okay. I'm used to it by now."

"Don't say that." I frowned and rolled him onto his back,

propping up on my elbow near his head. "You are the most
beautiful person in the world to me."

He rolled his eyes.
I reached up to touch his cheek, but he tucked his head

against his shoulder, hiding his scar. I shifted and straddled
him, catching his arms and pinning them above his head. He

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tried to push me off, but only managed in bouncing us on the
bed.

"Damn it, Ethan!"
I nuzzled my face against his shoulder until he finally

moved his head enough to expose his cheek. When he did, I
pressed my lips to his jaw and began kissing along the line of
the scar. With each kiss, I whispered the word 'beautiful' over
and over again.

By the time I reached his hairline, he'd relaxed beneath

me. I licked away a stray salty tear before kissing at the
outside corner of his eye. Pulling back just enough to see his
face, I smiled.

"Please don't ever use that word to describe something

that's a part of you."

"What?" He smirked. "Beautiful?"
I bent and captured a nipple, biting down hard. He gasped

and bucked up against me. I moved to the other nipple and
caught it between my teeth, tugging.

"Oh, not fair," he cried.
"Promise me, Noah."
He whimpered.
"Noah..."
He heaved a sigh. "Okay!"
I bit down even harder.
"I promise!"
I let him go, soothing his nipple with my tongue. "That's

better."

"Asshole."

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"Yeah, yeah." I stretched out over him and eased off to the

side, kissing his cheek. "Tell me about it someday?"

"It's not a long story." He shrugged. "Got shot a few years

ago by a rival pack Alpha."

"Here?" My eyes widened. Surely it wasn't ... It couldn't

be. "Was it close to here?"

"Yes," he said softly. "And yes, it's who you're thinking of."
A mix of emotions went through me, but the one that was

the strongest was anger. How many people had he hurt? How
many lives had that bastard ruined?

"I'm so sorry, Noah."
"Why should you be?" He turned onto his side, shaking his

head. "You had nothing to do with it."

"Maybe if I'd..." I was at a loss. "...If I'd fought him

harder."

"Not many people fight Jake and win," he said softly. "This

happened almost three years ago, so I think I should be
apologizing to you for not killing him when I had a gun so
close to his head."

"Does he still bother you and the rest of the pack?"
"Well, he did. But he's been really quiet in the last seven

or eight months. It's only a matter of time, though. Jake
wants territory and he'll stop at nothing to get it."

"He scares me."
"Anyone who meets him and says otherwise is either

fooling themselves or stupid." Noah snuggled up against me,
pulling the comforter over us before laying his head on my
shoulder. "No more Jake, Ethan. Just you and me."

"Just you and me," I repeated.

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But Jake was in my head and I had a feeling it would take

more than a good night's sleep to get him out.

* * * *

"A little to the right."
"My right or your right?" Noah grinned at my glare. "Am I

annoying the shit out of you?"

"Your right." When he moved to where I wanted him, I

jotted down the measurement. "And yes."

"Good way or bad way?"
"Bad way. If I don't get the measurements, I can't order

your pretty things. If I can't order your pretty things, then I
have to go back to town and sit in my office and wait until
another job comes in where people actually want to help."

"Fine." After a few minutes and a couple more directions

on where to stand, he pouted. "I don't want to take you back
to town."

"You can always come back with me," I said. "You can

drive me up here every morning, home every night."

"Who's going to feed us?" He held up a hand. "And no, we

cannot eat out for every damned meal. I swear, your
cholesterol would be through the roof if you were human."

"Says the man who ordered three appetizers, had fajitas

for two, then proceeded to try to drown us both in honey." I
jotted down another set of numbers and started doing some
adding. "I'm not quite seeing your point."

"Ethan."
"Hmm?"

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"Ethan!" At his soft yell, I looked up. His eyes were trained

on me, face flushed, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.
"I want to play with honey."

Words escaped me.
"I want to suck it off your nipples, lick it off your belly,

your balls, your cock..."

"Goddamn it, Noah." I took a quick look around, looking

for a place that was private.

Noah dropped the tape and it reeled back in with a loud

hiss and click. He grabbed me by the arm, tossing my pad
and pencil and the tape to the ground. He headed for the
garage, nearly dragging me along behind him. When we
made it inside the door, Noah pushed me against the wall and
kissed me hard, plunging his tongue between my lips and into
my mouth.

As we kissed, we worked at each other's jeans until they

were down around our thighs. I grabbed Noah and pulled to
me, thrusting up against him. He whimpered and wrapped his
arms around my neck, grinding his hips into mine.

"Can't get enough of you," he panted. "Need you so

much."

"All yours," I growled between kisses. "Fuck ... Hard,

baby."

His cock sliding against mine felt so fucking good, precome

slicking the way and making each and every movement pure
heaven. We quickly found a rhythm, both of us thrusting and
rubbing and stealing touches.

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I was right there, about to explode when Noah's words

passed over my lips. "Come on me, Ethan. Wanna smell just
like you."

I clutched his ass and thrust hard, exploding with a loud,

wordless cry. As my heat began to spread between us, Noah
bucked and jerked, adding his own heat. For a moment,
neither of us moved. Hell, I wasn't sure that my brain was
still connected to the rest of my body.

Noah bent and began to lick my spent dick, laughing when

I hissed and jerked away. "Too much."

He worked his way up and over my belly, cleaning me off

before shoving his tongue into my mouth. I sucked it clean
and caught his face between my hands. Our gazes locked and
Noah opened his mouth to say something, but closed it
instead and kissed me one last time.

As I tucked myself back in, I watched Noah carefully rub

our combined semen over his dick and balls. The excess he
wiped away, and then washed his hands at a utility sink. He
was mine, I was his—the symbolism was clear. The fact that
he wanted everyone else to know it? Well, that was about as
humbling as it got.

"Damn," Noah grumbled. "We have company."
I scented the air, searching for a scent that didn't belong

to me or Noah. The strange smell wasn't all that strange. It
was earthy and musky and was the prevalent scent
throughout the entire house. "Mack."

Noah looked at me in shock, then grinned. "I've corrupted

you already."

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"Just opened my eyes," I said, pushing away from the

wall. "You ready to face the music?"

"Might as well."
Mack was leaning against the side of the garage, arms

crossed over his chest just like every time I'd seen him so far.
He seemed annoyed, but not angry. That was a plus. When
he looked at Noah, who was grinning from ear to ear, Mack's
mouth twitched.

"I see you're both working hard this morning."
"Measurements take time and attention," Noah said in a

teasing tone. "Ethan needed help."

"Noah..." I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole.
Mack grumbled and turned his gaze to me. "I'm going to

need you to stay on the property for the duration of this
project."

"Excuse me?"
"What?" Noah added. "You can't do that! He has a

business to run."

"We're paying enough." Mack shrugged. "Shut it down until

you're finished."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't do that. I have crews running

doing active jobs. I can't close the entire business for one
customer—no matter how much they're paying."

Mack pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms,

but I realized then that he seemed far less threatening with
his arms crossed over that massive chest. He took a step
toward me, but stopped.

"I have to insure the pack's safety. This will be done my

way or it will not be done."

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"Mack, don't do this," Noah begged.
Mack took it a step further. "No job, no Ethan."
"Don't ask me to choose, Mack." Noah's voice was nothing

but a whisper, but the implications were loud and clear.

Mack stared at Noah long and hard before huffing and

heading toward the house. Noah started to follow, but I
grabbed his shirt, pulling him back.

"Don't, Noah. I'll figure out ... something."
There was no way I could just up and leave and be away

from Noah. If I had to shut down the office and reroute all
calls to my foreman, then so be it. It wasn't just about the
job anymore.

Noah planted a kiss on my cheek. "You do need more

clothes and the rest of your tools. There's no way around it,
we have to go into town. Mack will just have to suck it up and
deal."

Right.
I was so glad it was Noah who had the balls to tell the

pack's Alpha to suck it up and deal.

* * * *

Mack had not liked it at all. In fact, the way his face had

turned an odd shade of purplish-red, I expected to see steam
come pouring from his ears. He'd damn near barked orders at
Noah left and right then told him to take the truck, not the
Jeep, and not to come home without whiskey.

I dug the keys to the trailer out of my pocket as Noah

pulled the truck into the parking lot. We got out and locked

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the truck and Noah followed me up the steps, smacking my
ass.

"Hurry up."
"If you'll stop, it'll go much faster." I shoved the key into

the lock and twisted.

When the door opened, Noah pushed me inside and

slammed the door, licking my chin. "I can still smell us in
here."

"Maybe it's because you slathered yourself with come only

an hour ago."

"You say that like you didn't enjoy watching."
He had me there.
"Noah, baby, the faster we get done here," I paused to

give him a quick kiss, "the faster we can get back up to the
house and fuck until we pass out."

He stepped back quickly. "So, what do we need to do?"
"I need to make some calls. How about you..." I scratched

my head, and then pointed to the chair in front of my desk.
"Sit and don't touch anything—namely, me."

I moved around to my chair and sat down, trying to figure

out where to start. The light on the answering machine was
blinking, so I figured that was as good of place to start as
any. I pushed the button and pulled a notepad close.

"Ethan, I ... I don't know where you are. If it has to do

with yesterday ... Well, maybe I was out of line. I missed you
at breakfast. Your truck's there, though. I'm worried. Call me
when you get this, okay?"

Noah leaned over the desk, chin resting in the palm of his

hand. "How can you not hear that she's in love with you?"

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I pointed at him. "Quiet."
He winked and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest

and propping his boot-covered feet on my desk. "And I
guarantee you that she'll be unavailable when you call. Get
you worried enough about how she's feeling, and you'll come
after her."

"I'm not going after her."
"No?"
"No." I picked up the phone. "But I am calling her back.

Voicemail is a wonderful thing."

Noah grinned and got up. At my glare, he held his hands

up in defense. "Hey, I've just got to piss. That okay?"

I rolled my eyes and when Charlie picked up at the diner, I

asked for Beth. He, of course, said that she wasn't in. I
thanked him and hung up before dialing Beth's cell. She didn't
answer that either. I waited until the system beeped.

"Beth, it's Ethan. Sorry I missed your call. I was out on a

job estimate with a client. I'm going to be out of town for a
few weeks, so you can forego my daily breakfast. Don't
worry; I'm fine."

I hung up, fully expecting the phone to automatically ring

back. When it didn't, I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Noah
was right about that whole 'Beth in love' with me thing. I so
did not want to think about that.

The bathroom door opened and Noah walked out, fiddling

with his shirt. "So, how long do you think the whole job will
take?"

I laughed. "How much are you willing to help and not

distract?"

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"Hey, I make no promises." I sat back in the chair and

Noah eased around my desk. He straddled my lap and began
kissing along my throat. "I promise to do my best though, if
that makes you feel any better."

"That does." I let my head fall back, enjoying the way his

tongue played along my skin. "Don't stop."

The phone rang a few minutes later and Noah chuckled

between licks. "It's your woman."

Ignoring him, I picked up the phone and pushed the talk

button. "Russell Construction."

"Hey, boss!"
"Hey, Randy," I grinned at Noah in satisfaction. "What's

up?"

"I finished up that Forsythe job this afternoon and got a

check for it in the file I'm bringing back. What's next up on
the list?"

"That's great, Randy. I know that job's been a bitch."
"Damn near killed my fucking knees with all of the floor

work."

"I might have a deal for you, then. I've got an out of town

job that I'll be doing privately. Would you consider running
the office and the crews for a few weeks?"

"Hell yeah, I'd be glad to." Randy said happily. "Give me

some time to heal."

"When will you be back to the office?" Noah resumed

licking and sucking at my neck and reached between us,
rubbing at his crotch through his jeans.

"Not for another four or five hours. I'm getting a tire fixed

and I'm still in Southfork."

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"I can't wait that long." My words were short and broken.

"You already have a key. I haven't moved anything around
since the last time. Uh..."

"Don't worry, Ethan. I know the routine."
"Thanks, Randy. I appreciate it."
"Anytime, boss."
As I hung up the phone, Noah gave me a teasing lick on

the lips and stood. I growled and grabbed for him, but he
stepped out of my reach.

"Where do you think you're going?"
He grinned mischievously. "You go get your tools together.

I'll go get your clothes."

"You'll get my clothes? And I should trust you on that

why?"

"Because the clothes you wear the most smell like you."
Noah disappeared into the back room and I started making

a list of what tools I needed. I also called the home and
garden store over in Southfork to see if they had one of the
kits I needed to build the room around the hot tub. They
didn't, of course, but were expecting one to come in
tomorrow.

Mack was going to love that.
I went out back and opened up the storage shed, grabbing

up tools left and right. It took several trips to the truck to get
everything I needed. By the time I closed up the shed and
walked around front with my circular saw in hand, Noah was
loading my bags in the back seat of the truck. He smiled and
jutted his ass out into my path.

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I smacked him hard and continued on to the back of the

truck. "Did you forget something important like underwear?"

"What do you need underwear for?"
"Noah..."
"No, I got it." He licked at his lips. "Did you know that

even after clothes are washed—"

"Have you been sniffing my clothes?"
He chewed his lip and averted his eyes, then pointed

across the street. "Liquor store. Mack needs his whiskey."

"Uh-huh."
"You heard him."
"I did." I moved back around to where he stood and

pushed him up against the truck, laughing. "Noah, baby, you
are more than welcome to sniff from the source."

"Just drop to my knees and bury my face in your crotch?"
"Any time." He started to bend down, but I caught him by

the arms. "Except in public. They can arrest you for that shit."

Noah grinned. "I want to go home now."
"I figured as much."
Noah and climbed into the truck and I went into the office

for one last check to make sure I had what I needed and that
everything was where Randy could easily find it. Satisfied, I
locked up and headed out. When I got in the truck, Noah
leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"You sure you're okay with all of this? Staying up at the

house and all?"

"Honestly? If it weren't for you, I'd have told Mack to go to

hell and find someone else willing to play his games." Noah

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started to object, but I held my hand up. "They're games to
me."

He was quiet as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto

the street. When we pulled into the parking lot of the liquor
store, he put the truck in park, but made no move to get out
and didn't look over.

"Would you ever consider becoming part of a pack?"
"I don't know that it could ever work."
He looked out the window, sighing. "Not every pack is like

Jake's, Ethan."

"And part of me knows and understands that." I reached

over and took his hand. "But there's another part of me that
says once burned..."

"Yeah." He opened his door and slid out. "Anything you

want?"

When I shook my head, he shut the door and headed into

the store. I could see into the building through the iron bar-
covered doors and windows, and watched as Noah walked the
aisles and finally leaned against one of the shelves, covering
his face with his hands.

I wished my answer to his question could have been

different. But from the chilly reception I'd gotten from his
fellow pack members, I didn't feel his pack was a fit to me
either. Not as bad as Jake's, of course, but not exactly home.
Noah finally moved on down the aisle and a few minutes
later, he had checked out and was putting a large paper sack
into the seat between us.

The bottles clinked and clanged together and I peered into

the bag. Four large bottles of whiskey, looked like Jack

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Daniels, but I couldn't be sure, stood side by side. Nestled
between the bottlenecks, there was a little plastic bear filled
with honey. My whole body tightened and I looked up at
Noah, who was watching me.

He reached across the seat and drew his fingertips over

my lips. "For you and me."

"You like to get messy, don't you?"
Noah laughed and pulled away, seeming to perk up a little.

"Until you came along? I didn't have a clue."

He pulled out onto the street and things became

comfortable between us again. We laughed and talked and
teased all the way to the turn-off road for the house. And
then, Noah teased me even more about my dislike of all
things steep and high. I would have smacked him if I hadn't
been so afraid of distracting him. Last thing I wanted was to
go flying over the edge of some cliff.

Doug and Teresa were outside on the porch when we

pulled up, but the minute they saw us, they disappeared back
into the house. I waited until Noah finished backing up in
front of the garage before getting out. When he came to the
back of the truck to help me unload tools, I gestured toward
the house.

"Do they do that to everyone?"
"Who?"
"Doug and Teresa."
"I have to admit, I really haven't been paying attention to

them." He frowned. "Why, what's up?"

"They're not the friendliest people I've ever met."

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"It takes a while for them to warm up. If I hadn't already

been here when they joined the pack, I'm sure they'd have
been the same way to me."

He put the tailgate down and reached for a toolbox. I

caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the porch
and glanced up to see Mack standing near the steps, waiting.
I caught Noah's arm and smiled.

"I'll get this. I think someone is waiting on you."
Noah looked over my shoulder and sighed. "I'll try not to

be too long."

"Take your time, babe. I'm not going anywhere."
He blushed and turned away, walking to the front of the

truck. I started unloading the contents from the truck bed.
When it was all empty, I grabbed the solar cell catalog, a
calculator, and my notepad from one of the toolboxes. I
started doing the math on the cells, the needs of the house,
and just how much material we needed to complete the job.

I wanted to order as soon as possible in case there were

any problems with getting exactly what we needed. The last
thing I wanted was to be stuck up here sitting on my ass with
Mack and everyone else glaring at me because I was basically
getting paid to sit around.

Or fuck.
And with Noah around, fucking was a given.
The more I figured, the higher the numbers went. I hadn't

been far off when I gave Noah the initial estimate of nearly
half a million. I could cut that amount in half, however, if I
were willing to deliver at cost.

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If it were anyone else, I wouldn't even think of it. But with

Noah, there were a lot of things I was willing to do for him.
Decision made, I closed the file and started for the house.

I walked through the front door and into the entryway, but

no one was around. I made my way through the house, but
after searching damn near every room on the first level, I
headed for the den so I could check the lower level. Just as I
reached for the knob, I heard Noah and Mack arguing inside.

"I can't believe you would bring one of Jake's pups up

here—to our house!"

"He isn't one of Jake's pups, Mack." Noah's voice was full

of anger. "He isn't even part of Jake's pack!"

Mack seemed to sigh and then the words between them

became hushed and quiet and I couldn't make them out.
Murmurs went back and forth between the two of them and
finally, everything went silent.

"If he goes, I go with him."
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Noah?" Mack had to be

snarling. "You met him yesterday and you're declaring loyalty
to him instead of me—instead of the pack?"

"How long did you know mom before you knew she was

the one?" Noah asked.

His mother? What did...? Unless...
"That has nothing to do with this."
"Mack, it has everything to do with it."
"If he were—"
"Don't you fucking say it! I swear to God, I thought you

understood!"

The room went silent again.

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"So you think he's your mate?" Mack sounded defeated.
At the silence that followed, I could only guess that Noah

was making a gesture of some sort.

"I see." Mack's chair creaked as he either sat down or

shifted. "It won't be easy, Noah. He's never been a part of a
pack—and that's all you've ever known."

"That's something for him and me to deal with."
"Let me ask you something, Noah. Does he know how you

feel? What it all means in the long run?"

"No."
"Then I suggest you tell him before you get him started on

this job. I won't have him here and unhappy. If he's not
happy, he can't be trusted."

"Whatever, Mack."
I suddenly realized I'd been doing nothing but

eavesdropping. Yeah. How trustworthy was that? I heard
footsteps approaching the door and started to slink away
when Mack called out to Noah.

"I loved your mother dearly, Noah."
"But not enough to save her."
"I gave her the choice and you know it."
"A choice not everyone gets, obviously." The words held a

touch of resentment, but Noah's voice was calm. "Luckily,
that's not something Ethan and I will have to deal with."

"No," Mack said. "You just have to get him to accept his

wolf. That, my boy, is probably the thing that will tear you
apart the fastest."

Mack's words hit hard. I turned and started back down the

hall, but when the door clicked open, I knew that I'd never be

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able to get around the corner before Noah stepped out. I
stopped and turned around, heading back toward the den.

Noah smiled when he saw me. "I was just coming to see if

you needed help."

I fully intended on coming clean, but when I opened my

mouth to tell him that I'd been listening to his conversation
with Mack, the words caught in my throat. Noah glanced at
the folder in my hands. "That the final figures?"

I clutched the file tighter. "Pretty much."
"Cool. You want to raid the kitchen with me for a snack

and then walk me through the figures?"

"Sure."

* * * *

Dinnertime was quickly becoming my most dreaded part of

the day. Everyone ate together around the table, guests
included. I was pretty sure it wasn't the normal run of things
for conversation to be so lacking. Doug stared at his plate as
he ate, Teresa stared at me. Noah, either oblivious to it all or
trying to take my mind of things, had one hand rubbing up
and down on my thigh.

He was certainly giving me something else to think about—

mostly how it was going to look when I got up from the table
with a hard on or a wet stain on my jeans. I finally grabbed
his hand and held it still, giving him a look of warning. He
shot for innocent with that smile, but missed it by a long shot.

"Later," I mouthed.

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He raised both eyebrows suggestively and pulled his hand

away. Thankful for a reprieve, I cut into my steak and
continued eating.

"So, Noah," Teresa's tone was condescending. "What do

we know about our new handyman beside the fact that he's
loud in bed?"

"Quiet, Teresa," Mack growled.
She took a sip of wine and cut another piece of steak. She

stared at Noah the entire time she chewed and when she
swallowed, she smiled—the gesture looking more like a snarl
than anything. "What happened to that guy you were seeing
a few months back? Where was he from? Denver?"

"I haven't been seeing anyone and you damned well know

it," Noah snapped.

"Oh, that's right. He was too human for you, wasn't he?"

Teresa cut her eyes over at me. "Sort of like this one."

Doug, who was sitting next to Teresa, cursed under his

breath.

"See, Noah has this problem. He likes to fuck and shift all

at the same time. Can't seem to help himself." Teresa picked
up her glass and gestured to Noah. "Last guy he was seeing?
Noah forgot to tell him what he was before he shifted."

"That was nearly ten years ago, bitch."
Teresa tsked. "Ten, two. Doesn't matter. Outcome was still

the same. Did I ever tell you how he screamed when I—"

"Teresa!" Mack slammed his fist on the table and stood.

"What is wrong with you?"

Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. I couldn't take

anymore of Teresa's vitriol and I had a feeling she had a lot

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more of it waiting in the wings. I stood and said my thanks
for dinner and left the dining room. Noah's chair scraped
across the floor and I heard him call my name, but then
heard Mack call him back. I didn't wait around to see or hear
what went on and continued on to my room.

I contemplated packing my shit and leaving, but knew that

wasn't as easy as it sounded. I leaned against the wall and
sank down onto the floor. What the fuck had I gotten myself
into?

There was a knock on the door and I groaned. "Go away."
The door opened anyway and Mack stepped in, looked

down at me, then frowned. "I'm afraid that since it's my
house, I don't have to go anywhere."

I just shrugged. The man had a point.
Mack closed the door and found a chair, pulling it closer

before he sat down in it before me. He stared down at me for
the longest time, as if thinking about what he was going to
say. Or, maybe he was trying to figure out how to get rid of
me. Finally, he sighed and sat forward.

"Do you love him?"
"What?" I looked up at him, wide-eyed. "I don't ... I mean,

we just met—"

"Yesterday," he finished for me. "Is that right?"
I nodded. "Hardly time to know whether you love someone

or not."

"That's bullshit and I'm going to tell you why." He stood

and walked over to the windows that had taunted me so
much only the night before. "Humans have this weird fucking
habit of trying to prove their instincts to be wrong. But the

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truth of it is: ninety-eight percent of the time, when we meet
someone—we already know whether that person is going to
mean something to us or not."

"Like what? Love at first sight?" I snorted. "Sounds like a

Saturday night movie on the whiny-bitch channel."

"Ethan." His tone was reprimanding. "My point ... is that

sometimes we just need to step back and let our wolf make
some of our decisions."

Oh. Oh, hell no. We were so not going there.
Mack turned and walked back across the room, offering me

his hand. "Let's go for a walk."

"Now?"
"You have something better to do?"
Than spend time with the man who owned the house I was

a guest in? Good point, obvious, yet not.

I took his hand and got to my feet. "Lead the way."
Mack led me down a hallway and stopped before his

bedroom door. Noah had pointed it out to me when we toured
the house and said it was the only room that was entirely off-
limits. Mack opened the door and gestured for me to go in
before he followed.

I took a brief look around the room, noticing the lit

fireplace with a chair and table pushed up next to it. A half-
empty tumbler of whiskey sat on the edge of the table. On
the mantle above the fireplace was a painting of a beautiful
woman with long brown hair and piercing green eyes. Her
expression was so happy, so loving. Whoever the artist had
been, they'd been damned good. One had to be in order to
capture that magnitude of emotion through a portrait.

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But there was something else about her that held me

captive. It took me a moment to figure it out, but when I did,
it took my breath away.

"Is that Noah's mother?"
Mack gazed up at the painting on the wall, nodding.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

"Very," I replied. "Noah has her eyes."
"Noah has a lot of his mother in him." He chuckled. "The

eyes are all he'll concede to though, if asked."

"You loved her."
"From the moment I met her." Mack stared longingly up at

the painting. "Hell, we moved in together three days after we
met. It was that right."

"But she was human?"
Mack nodded. "Noah told you about her?"
"No, he didn't." I sighed and shoved my hands into my

jean pockets. "I overheard your conversation with Noah
earlier."

He looked over at me, frowning. "What exactly did you

hear?"

"Most everything after you scolded Noah for bringing one

of Jake's pups to the house."

"I see." Mack moved to his chair and sat down, sighing

heavily. He gestured to a chair next the fireplace. "Pull up a
chair, or..."

When he trailed off and absently gestured to the floor

beside him, I swallowed hard, weighing my actions carefully. I
may not have had much pack knowledge or experience, but
the things I did know were relatively simple. If I pulled the

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chair up and sat across from him, it could mean anything
from me considering myself his equal—which had implications
of its own—or that I didn't respect him.

The fact that he'd offered the floor said a lot. The floor at

the Alpha's feet was reserved for pack members that were in
the Alpha's good graces. It was a privilege and to deny it was
more than rude.

Slowly, I moved across the floor and sat on the edge of the

rug, just a few feet from Mack's chair. Mack studied me for a
long while, then held his hand out in offering. I stared at his
hand, heart pounding in my chest, and found myself moving
toward him.

When my chest brushed his legs, he leaned forward and

cupped my cheek. "Come closer, Ethan."

I had never, ever wanted anything to do with a pack. But

with everything in me, I found myself longing for Mack's
touch—for the comfort only a father could give. Moving in, I
laid my cheek on Mack's knee, rubbing against him just
slightly. His hand smoothed my hair, down my neck, then
rested on my shoulder.

"You fight what is instinct," Mack said gently. "Would it be

so be so bad to be part of a pack that loved and valued you?"

Tears burned my eyes and I grit my teeth as they pooled

and streamed down my cheeks. If I'd had this instead of Jake,
things might have been so very different over the past two
years. "The only thing I've experienced from a pack is pain."

"Tell me what happened between you and Jake?"
I leaned heavily against Mack, sighing. "I met him a few

months after I moved here. I was lonely, he was interested.

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My history with men and relationships was—is—pretty much
zip. When he was a jerk, I thought it was normal. When sex
was hard and rough and I complained, he said I was too
sensitive. And when he got violent..."

Mack rubbed my shoulders. "Is that how you were turned?

He got violent and attacked you?"

"Oh no, it was very much a deliberate thing. He pulled the

sorry card, wanted me to spend the weekend with him so that
he could make up for being such an asshole." My fingers
nervously worked at the hem of Mack's jeans. "And stupid
me, I went."

"Did you know anything of werewolves before then? Had

he told you?"

"No. For two days..." I closed my eyes and breathed in

Mack's scent. Being close to him was calming. "Two days he
showed me, in vivid detail, just what a werewolf was and just
what kind of pain one could inflict. If I thought the sex was
rough when he was human..."

My words trailed and Mack shifted, fingers pressing

beneath my chin, urging me to look up at him. When I did,
the look in his eyes was sympathetic. "What he did to you,
everything he did to hurt you—I can't take that away. No one
can."

"I know."
"It'll be with you for as long as you live," he continued.

"But if you let his actions color the way you relate to others
and the way you live your life—then he wins. And you don't
want him to win, do you?"

"I can't get away from him, Mack."

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"If you are part of a pack, that gives Jake a lot less

leverage."

"I know what Noah told you." I sat back, breaking contact

with him. "If you mean to keep him here by offering me a
place, it's not going to work."

"You think I have less than pure motives for offering you a

place?"

"I think you would do anything to keep your pack

together."

"I would," he agreed. "But if Noah decides he wants a life

with you outside of the pack, then I will do my best to
support him."

"Would you? Or would you hold it over his head that he

chose between me and the pack?"

"If the situation were reversed, who would you choose?

Pack or Noah?"

"Noah, of course."
"Why would you choose him over a pack that could give

you safety and family?"

"Because I lo..."
Mack sat back, smiling. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch that."
I lay back on the floor, glaring up at the exposed beam

ceiling. "I've only known him for a day."

"Yet you've let him in closer than you've let anyone else

in." He nudged me with his bare foot. "Let him so close that
you spent most of last night in wolf form mating."

I curled my fingers into the rug, groin going tight at the

memory. "I guess everyone heard."

"Of course we did."

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"Should I be embarrassed?"
"Are you?"
"No."
Mack grinned, but before he could say anything the phone

rang. "Hold that thought."

He got up and grabbed a handset from his bedside table.

When he said hello, I turned my attention to the fire, thinking
about our conversation, where it had led, what it had meant.
I'd always been so against having anything to do with a pack
because of Jake, but Mack was showing me—rather quickly—
that things could be different.

I could do without Doug and Teresa, but Mack ... I liked

him. The thought of having someone like him to confide in
was so very tempting. Could I do it, though? Could I get over
everything Jake's pack had shown me to become part of
Mack's pack?

This was where Noah was happiest, but he was willing to

let it all go for me. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't force
him to choose. How in hell I'd ever run a business from up
here, though, was lost on me.

Mack walked around his chair and sat down, scratching his

head. He seemed troubled. I got to my knees and knelt
beside him. "Everything okay?"

His mouth went tight. "The rest of the pack won't be

coming in this weekend after all."

"Something happen?"
"They're just ... busy."
He truly looked hurt. "I'm sorry, Mack."

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"It's okay; it happens." Mack reached out and squeezed

my shoulder. "I am thrilled that Noah has found someone. I
want him to be happy."

"I do, too."
"Promise me that you'll always take care of him—and that

you'll let him take care of you, too."

I nodded.
"Tell him you love him, Ethan. Don't fight, don't wonder

and worry, just go with your heart." He smiled. "And listen to
your wolf. He won't lead you astray."

I leaned into his touch and got to my feet. Mack stood with

me and grabbed me up in a tight hug. I hugged him back and
then pulled away just far enough to see his face. "Thank you,
Mack."

"What for?"
"For showing me a different kind of Alpha."
He kissed me on the forehead and pushed me back. "I'm

here if you ever need anything. If you ever change your mind
about the pack..."

"I'll think about it." Mack seemed to want some space, and

I wanted to find Noah. "See you in the morning?"

He nodded. "Have a good night."
"You, too."
I headed for the door and turned before I shut it. Mack had

already sat back down and was finishing off his tumbler with
whiskey. I shut the door and gave him his privacy, heading
off to find Noah.

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I didn't have to look hard. I opened up my bedroom door

just as he was about to walk out. Relief passed over his face
when he saw me. "I've been looking for you."

"I was with Mack." I pushed him back into the room and

closed the door. "Not like I was about to go down the
mountain all by myself."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you're okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just..." He shrugged. "Well, I didn't expect you to be so

happy after spending time with him."

"I like him. A lot."
Noah's face lit up in a smile. "Yeah?"
I nodded.
"I was going to see if maybe you wanted to watch some TV

or..." I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tugged him closer.
He swallowed hard. "Ethan?"

"I'm thinking I'd like to stay in." I pushed his shirt up and

off, dropping it to the floor. "Maybe go to bed early."

Goosebumps rose over his skin as I trailed my fingers up

his arms and then slowly let them trail down his chest. He
pushed against me and I took both nipples between thumb
and index finger, twisting and pulling just slightly. Noah
shuddered and let his head fall back.

That exposed throat drew me in and I licked and sucked at

his skin, just tasting him, enjoying the feel of his stubbled-
jaw against my tongue as I worked my way to his lips.

"I think I like going to bed early."
"Good to hear." I worked at his jeans and pushed them

down his hips. "Help get me naked?"

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His hands immediately found my shirt and tugged it up

over my head. Stepping out of his jeans, he went to his knees
and ran his tongue from my navel to the enclosure of my
jeans. As he got my jeans open and began pushing them
down, he licked and teased as each bit of skin was exposed.

I dropped a hand to his head, not pushing, just petting

through that long, soft hair. Noah took me in his hand,
stroking up and down my shaft. He gave the head of my cock
a sucking kiss and then a lick, sighing.

"Taste so good."
"Suck me ... for just a minute."
He licked my balls instead, cutting his eyes up at me,

watching my reaction. I suddenly didn't care if he was sucking
them or my cock—as long as he had his mouth on me. I held
my cock against my belly and stepped out of my jeans,
spreading my legs to give him more access.

He sucked one of my nuts into his mouth, tongue flicking

and teasing at the same time. I dropped my head back and
tried like hell to resist the urge to grind down against his
mouth. He pulled off and sucked my other nut in and my
knees buckled. He laughed and the vibration was almost too
much.

"You're gonna make me come, damn it."
"Isn't that the idea?"
"Technically ... yes. But I'd really like to be inside you

when I do."

Lips slid around my cock and he took me in until I bumped

the back of his throat. He relaxed and took me in just a little

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more until he had his nose buried in my pubic hair. Slowly
and deliberately, he pulled back and then sucked me in again.

"Noah..."
He continued his slow and steady pace and it wasn't long

before I had to push him off. I pulled him to his feet and
kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue. I couldn't take any
more of this standing. I wanted him in bed, wanted to feel his
weight on me.

I steered us toward the bed, but he stopped me before I

could push him back and opened the drawer on the bedside
table. A bottle of lube was grabbed as I pulled him onto the
bed, and then abandoned as I settled my weight between his
legs. His legs wrapped around mine and warm hands slid low
against my back, then my ass.

We humped and rubbed, sharing teasing kisses and licks.

The friction was almost too much after the way he'd already
sucked me and I settled for just rubbing my belly against his
cock.

He finally rolled me onto my back before straddling my

hips. "Get me slick?"

"You know it."
Finding the lube, I flipped the cap on the bottle and

squirted some on my fingers, rubbing them together to warm
them. He rose up on his knees and skimmed his hands down
his belly before rubbing them enticingly over his cock and
balls. After a moment, he winked and pulled his balls up,
spreading his legs further in offering.

I reached down and found his hole, rubbing slick fingers

back and forth over it, but not trying to enter him. The fingers

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of one hand went to his mouth and he wet them with spit
before finding his cock again.

As he stroked, I slid one finger inside him, working him a

bit, and then added another. He sank down onto my fingers,
and leaned forward to kiss me, a sigh passing from his lips
and into my mouth. I curled my fingers inside him, searching
for that one spot to drive him out of his mind. When I found
it, he jerked, grinding his ass against my hand.

I fingered him as we kissed, working that spot over and

over again, swallowing down each and every moan. He
pushed up after a while, and scooted down a little.

"Need you, need to feel you."
Nodding, I pulled my fingers from him and slicked my

cock. One hand on his hip, I pulled him down gently, rubbing
myself back and forth over that tight hole. He took me in
easily, tight heat sliding down around me. His ass clamped
down around me and he held himself up with hands on my
chest

"You gonna ride me?" He nodded. "Gonna come just from

me being inside you?"

"God, yes..."
"Show me, Noah."
He licked at his lips as he started to move. His hair hid

part of his face and I reached up and pushed it back, wanting
to see him—to see all of him. After a while, he arched his
back, seeking out more of my touch.

My hands went around his neck, just framing it, thumbs

rubbing at his throat. His mouth fell open and a moan

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escaped. I dropped my hands lower, fingers finding his
nipples again. He hissed and ground down hard.

"Oh, fuck yes." His belly tightened, cock leaking precome

steadily.

I worked my hands down that flat belly, his thighs at my

sides, up his back, then stretched so I could slide my fingers
down and rub his hole, to feel where we were joined. That
hole stretched tightly around me, but he was so relaxed, so
slick, that I managed to slip a single finger in along-side my
cock.

Noah let out a long, low groan. "Love you inside me."
"Love being inside you." I licked and kissed all along his

shoulder and his neck, biting down on the sinewy muscle in
his neck. "Best fucking thing in the world is touching you ...
loving you."

Noah pushed me back on the bed and forced my finger out

of him. His gaze locked with mine and as he started to move,
I couldn't look away. It was as if we were sharing something
so intimate, so sacred. I found myself holding his hips tight,
pushing up deep.

His breathing became harsh and he clamped down around

me, shaking, panting. In a matter of moments, he sucked
that bottom lip between his teeth and jerked. The dazed look
in his eyes and the feel of his heat coating me sent me over.
Belly going tight, I came, holding him close as I filled him.

Even then, I was unable to look away. Mack was right—I

knew. I bracketed my hands around his face and pulled him
down for a kiss.

"I love you, Noah."

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He nodded, eyes glittering and happy. "I know."

* * * *

Grace had gone all out on breakfast: eggs, bacon, ham,

pancakes, biscuits, and an array of fruits lined the long table.
Teresa glared as Noah and I sat down at the table. A few
seconds later she pushed her plate away, grabbed her coffee,
and left the room.

"Bitch," Noah said under his breath.
"She's never going to warm up, is she?"
"Starting to think not."
Mack walked in and sat down in his chair, rubbing his

hands over his face. He looked as if he'd had a long night,
and if I didn't know better, as if he might have been hung
over. I wasn't sure how much of the whiskey he'd have had to
consume to achieve that one.

"Everything okay, Mack?"
He glanced up, but didn't actually look at either of us. "I'm

fine. Just tired. Stayed up too late."

Noah nodded, but I could tell he was still concerned. As we

made our plates and then dug in and started eating, Mack did
the same. After only a few minutes though, Mack got up and
grabbed his coffee cup. Before he left the room, he stopped
behind Noah and grasped his shoulder.

Noah reached up and patted Mack's hand, but didn't say

anything. Mack soon turned and ambled out, leaving Noah
and me alone again. Noah dropped his fork and leaned into
me, sighing.

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"I hate it when he gets like this. Nothing anyone can do or

say will pull him out of it."

"Does it happen often?"
"Not quite as much as it used to, but yeah." He shrugged.

"He misses my mother."

I remembered the look in Mack's eyes as he gazed up at

Noah's mother's portrait the night before. "Desperately."

Noah nodded. "If you want to know the truth? I'm

surprised he's lasted this long. Mack never wanted to lose
her, but he respected her wishes."

"What happened to her?"
"Cancer," he said softly. "She found out and was gone in a

matter of weeks. He begged and begged her to let him save
her, to let him try, but she felt the fates had dealt her cards."

"I'm so sorry, baby."
"Mack was—is—the only father I've ever known." He sat up

a little, grabbed his glass, and proceeded to pour himself
some orange juice from the pitcher. He offered me some, but
I declined. After taking a few sips, he looked over at me.
"He's also the one that turned me."

"Oh man, that had to have been awkward."
"When mom died, Mack went out of his mind. He was so

lost, so angry. He stayed with her body for days and wouldn't
let anyone near her. When I tried to get Mack to let her go, to
let me call someone so they could prepare her body—Mack
lashed out. He partially shifted when he did and I got cut."
Noah shrugged and toyed with his glass of juice. "After that,
it was like Mack just sort of snapped back to reality. And then
he let her go."

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"How old were you?"
"Twenty-three."
I pushed his juice aside and took his hand. "Maybe Mack

has made it all of these years because he's had you to watch
after."

Noah nodded and teared up. "I'm afraid he'll give up now.

I've got my mate, someone to watch over me..."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I pulled him into my

arms and hugged him tight. I hoped like hell that Mack would
find the peace he needed and be able to live with the memory
of Noah's mother, even if he didn't have her. I knew in my
heart though, that if I were ever to lose Noah, it would kill
me.

* * * *

Noah and Doug had gone into town that afternoon to pick

up the kit for the hot tub house and the hot tub itself. I was
pretty sure that Doug hadn't offered to go and help on his
own. The look he shot me that day as he and Noah walked
out the door had been far from kind. Teresa had been the
same way, though, so I wasn't sure what the deal was. I
pretty much got the clue that my time at the house wasn't
going to be appreciated by either of them.

Now, only three days later, the house for the hot tub was

almost finished. It was early evening and Noah and I had
been working steadily. No matter how much of a distraction
he could be, he was damned good help. We'd have this thing
finished tomorrow.

"Hey, babe, hand me that level, please."

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Noah stretched across the ground to reach the level. His

shirt rode up, exposing a bit of skin low on his back and I
took a moment to appreciate the view. No matter how many
times I'd had the pleasure of running my hands over every
inch of that skin in the past few days, I could never get
enough.

"Anything else I can get you?" Noah asked as he slid the

level into my hand. "All you have to do is say the word."

Uh-huh.
I knew exactly what the word was for him—for us. "Not

even going there, Noah."

"You are such a spoil-sport."

* * * *

"Ethan, baby, I need you to wake up."
I groaned and shifted, coming awake only to remember

that I was lying on an unfinished wooden floor. After dinner,
we'd gone for a walk and then ended up in the hot tub house
... or what there was of it. Noah had fucked me across the
floor so hard and fast that I was sure I must've had splinters
in my ass and knees. Noah's hand clamped over my mouth
and tightened when I tried to shrug it off.

He gestured with a single finger to his lips, telling me to be

quiet, pointed to his ear and then toward the line of trees in
the distance. When I tried to sit up, he held me close, shaking
his head. Confused, I listened and looked, hearing nothing
but the normal sounds of animals scampering in the woods at
night, seeing nothing but trees.

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I shrugged, shook my head, and started to tell him it was

nothing—and then I heard a twig break. For a moment, I
almost believed that it was just an animal. But then
everything else went silent. An intruder or predator was close
and all of the animals had gone still and silent. Self-
preservation at its finest.

"Something's wrong," Noah mouthed.
I nodded that I understood and reached for our clothes.

Both of us had slipped on sweats and a T-shirt after dinner
and I was so glad that we'd chosen a soft, quiet material. But
no matter how quiet the material, each and every move was
magnified in the silence. I finished tying my shoes and gave
Noah a questioning look.

He pointed to the house.
I saw his point. Outside the house, we weren't safe. But if

someone was outside with us, watching us, I had no clue how
we were going to get into the house without them knowing.

Noah carefully slid across the floor and placed his feet on

the ground. He scented the air and reached back, tugging at
my pants leg. I scooted down and sat beside him.

"What is it?" I whispered.
"Someone's in the trees." He chewed his lips. "More than

one."

"Familiar?"
He seemed conflicted. "Yes and no."
"Maybe one of the others is hunting? Playing?"
He listened for a while, then shook his head. "The house is

surrounded. We have to get inside—get to Mack."

"Won't Mack know they're here? Maybe—"

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He covered my mouth with his fingers, holding a single one

to his own lips. "We go against the house, straight to Mack's
room. Stay in the shadows."

Before I could say anything in response, Noah grabbed my

arm and started for the house. Leaves and twigs crunched
under foot and when we hit the wall, Noah froze, holding me
still as well. We eased along the wall and crouched behind a
bush. He jabbed me with his elbow and pointed to the line of
trees on the back side of the house.

I saw a figure move in the shadow of the trees. For the

first time, I realized this was really, really bad. If they weren't
making a move to come to us, to attack—then they had to be
waiting. But what were they waiting on? We were pretty
much trapped and surrounded.

Noah turned and placed his hand over my heart. "Calm."
My breath was coming faster and faster, heart pounding in

my chest. I could feel my wolf, restless, nervous. We couldn't
just sit here, exposed, waiting for an attack.

"We need to move."
He nodded and started moving again. With each step, my

heart thudded in my chest and soon, it was all I could hear.
But we kept moving, kept going. Just before we rounded the
corner at Mack's room, one of the shadowed figures moved
out of the trees. I grabbed Noah and pulled him back against
the wall, body covering his.

He pushed me back a little and looked at the figure,

scenting the air hard. After a few seconds, he whimpered and
pulled away, trying to go around the corner. I grabbed him

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and dragged him back. He pointed to the figure that was now
moving away from us.

"Doug."
"You sure?"
He nodded and moved to the corner, peering around it. A

whimper like I'd never heard before bellowed out of him and
he swatted at my hands, trying to get me away from him.
Confused and losing the battle with holding onto him, I let
him go.

One of the French doors to Mack's room was standing

open. The scent of blood hit hard and my stomach twisted
into knots. I grabbed for Noah as he set off in a dead run for
the door. I followed on his heels, trying to watch the line of
trees. If they hadn't seen us before, they sure as hell would
now.

"No, no, no.... "Noah was crying as he ran into Mack's

room. "Oh, God, Mack, tell me what to do!"

Mack was in his chair, empty bottle of whiskey on the table

beside him. In his chest was a long, silver dagger that I'd
recognize anywhere. It had been used to carve a 'J' on the
inside of my right thigh two years ago.

"Noah ... son." Mack moaned and looked at Noah. "You

and Ethan have to get out."

I knelt and examined the damage. The skin was burnt

everywhere the silver had touched and the blood oozing from
the wound was thick and black. It had soaked Mack's pajama
shirt and pants and was dripping from the chair to pool on the
floor beneath.

"We have to get you out, Mack."

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He looked at me and shook his head. "Can't fix this."
"Yes!" Noah was shaking almost uncontrollably. "We'll get

you to the Jeep, get you to—"

"No hospitals. You know that." Mack coughed and then

clenched his teeth. "All I want is for you and Ethan to get to
safety."

Noah buried his face into Mack's neck, sobbing. "I don't

want to leave you."

"I'll always be with you, Noah," Mack said gently. "Right

now, I need you to be strong. I need you to listen to me."

Noah knelt beside me, clinging to Mack's legs. "Who did

this?"

"Jake," I answered.
He looked at me, then at Mack. "Jake is here?"
Mack nodded. "He and his pack are in the woods, waiting."
"Doug was out there, too." Noah hung his head. "Tell me

this is a bad dream."

"Do you remember the number?" Mack asked Noah. When

he nodded, Mack continued. "Get to a phone, call that
number, and someone will come for you."

"What about you? We can't just leave you here for them

to—"

"I won't be here to care." Mack's head fell back and he

groaned. "Ethan, son, I need you to get a towel ... or
something ... and pull out this dagger."

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but we couldn't get

him out, we couldn't save him, the least we could do was
send him off in peace without Jake finding him alive and
torturing him. I got up and looked around until I found a

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discarded hand towel. I squeezed Noah's shoulder as I came
back.

Noah sighed in resignation and smiled up at Mack. "Say hi

to mom?"

Mack nodded and looked at me. "Ready?"
"No, but we're running out of time." I wiped tears from my

eyes and met Mack's gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Do it and then get out of here."
Noah stood and bent over Mack, kissing him on the cheek.

"I love you."

"Love you, too." Mack reached up and caressed Noah's

cheek. "Always."

I wrapped the towel around the dagger's handle, grasped

it tightly, and pulled it out in one swift motion. Mack jerked,
back bowing, then relaxed. He then looked up over Noah's
head to the painting on the wall and smiled. In only seconds,
Mack's hand dropped and he relaxed completely.

I threw the dagger aside and grabbed Noah, pulling him

into my arms. He clutched at me, burying his face in my
neck. I comforted him for a few minutes, then pushed him
back.

"We have to get out of here, Noah."
He took my hand and led me to the door. "I think we

should get as far away from here as can before we shift."

"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "They'll be expecting us to go down the

mountain. We're going up."

I didn't know why, but I wasn't about to question him now.

He knew the area better than anyone. We found a line of

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trees that looked clear and made a break for it. Once we
reached them, we stopped and waited, listening for any sign
that we might have been seen.

Noah leaned against me, a hopeful look on his face. "I

think we're okay."

"We're going to be," I whispered. "Let's keep moving."
He nodded and we took off again. Going uphill slowed us

down, but the further we got from the house, the better
things seemed. We'd been running for a while, crashing
through trees and underbrush, when Noah grabbed at my
arm.

"We should—"
An angry howl pierced the otherwise quiet night and Noah

and I both froze. Another howl followed the first. Neither of us
bothered to change before we shifted. Muscles bunched and
stretched, bones popped and cracked as they reshaped. Fur
pushed through skin, and when I completed my shift, Noah
was waiting, listening, watching.

Once I got my bearings, Noah licked my muzzle and took

off. I followed as best as I could, but I wasn't quite used to
being in this body and running. Before long, instinct kicked in
and I became a little more sure-footed. Noah led me up and
down and through little streams and down big, steep cliffs.
When we hit a flat area covered with aspens, we were able to
gain some speed.

At the far edge of that area, we stopped, trying to decide

which way to go. Before we'd made a decision, a flash of
movement in the direction from which we'd just come caught
my eye. I didn't wait around to find out who or what the

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movement was caused by. I nudged Noah, but when he didn't
move, I bit at his haunch, urging him on.

He yelped and cast a cursory glance before taking off. We

ran full out until we came to a dirt road. We followed along-
side it, staying off the main path. The dirt road led to a paved
one and a short distance away, there was a bridge over a
running creek. We went across the road and into the water. I
thought we were just going to cross onto the land on the
other side, but Noah swam his way under the bridge and
came out on the opposite bank. I followed, hoping that the
little trick would at least buy us some time.

Soaking wet, Noah and I started off again at a full-out run.

Along the way we passed several houses. Most of them were
abandoned, some of them inhabited, but all of them were
without phone service. The further we went, the more
discouraged I became.

And then we hit a small store. It was closed and locked up

for the night, but there was a phone. Noah and I went around
back and he shifted back to human form. He grabbed the
padlock on the iron-barred door and ripped it off. I nudged
him off when he started to say something.

"Phone."
He nodded and disappeared inside. I crept back around to

the front of the store and sat at the corner of the building,
watching for any sign of trouble. A short time later, Noah
walked up beside me, running his fingers through my fur.

"Anything?"
I shook my head.

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"We haven't lost them, I'm sure of it." He knelt and leaned

against me. "Five more miles and someone will be waiting for
us."

"Who?"
"Some Council team that was close by." He sighed and

patted my shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

He shifted and motioned for me to follow him. Numerous

RVs lined the parking lot and we had to take care when
wading through the maze. Last thing we needed was
someone to be awake and peek out the window. These things
were like tin cans and if one person screamed, the entire lot
would hear and we'd be surrounded by humans scared out of
their skulls.

Once we made it out of there, Noah and I set off at a run

again. Even though we'd not seen anyone since the aspen
field, we weren't in the clear. When Noah stopped short and
looked around, I nudged him. He shook his head and shifted,
urging me to do the same. I'd grown so comfortable on four
legs though, that when I shifted back, I stumbled.

He steadied me and smiled. "Okay?"
I nodded. "Why are we stopping?"
"Because hopefully in about a minute or two a helicopter is

going to be landing in the field right in front of us." He
wrapped an arm around me and we walked over to sit on a
large rock at the tree line. "We've just got to wait and listen."

"We haven't lost them."
"I know." He kissed my shoulder and sighed. "But we're

going to be out of here in just minutes."

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100

I didn't want to ask him what we were going to do if the

chopper never showed. "Are you okay?"

"I feel betrayed." He glanced up at the sky, sighing. "And

stupid. If anyone had asked if something like this were
possible in our pack, I'd have sworn on my life that it wasn't."

"Sometime the people we trust in and love the most are

the ones who hurt us the most."

"I don't know who to trust," he said. "I mean, was it just

Doug and Teresa? Was it the entire pack? Is that why
everyone canceled? Did they all know? And how in the hell did
Jake get them on his side?"

"We may never know the answer to some of those

questions."

Noah pressed his forehead against the side of my head. "I

know that I can trust you."

"Don't ever doubt it." I turned my head and kissed him.

"Love you."

"Love you, too." He shivered and tucked his arms between

us. "It's cold."

I rubbed my hands up and down his back, trying to work

up some heat from the friction. But you didn't just traipse
around in the mountains at night naked. It was tempting to
shift back into wolf form. Before I could think on that
anymore, a measured thump-thump-thump echoed in the
distance.

Noah and I both jumped to our feet, scanning the sky. I

couldn't see anything, but the sound was getting closer and
closer. Soon, the wash from the rotors hit and I looked up

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101

and saw a big, black military helicopter closing in about two
hundred yards out into the field.

"A Blackhawk?" I looked at Noah. "Who the fuck are these

people?"

"Long story, babe." He laughed and shoved me forward.

"Let's go."

Noah ended up ahead of me a little and we were halfway

to the aircraft when something black and furry attacked Noah.
I ran toward them to help, but then something hit me from
behind and knocked me onto my stomach. I slid over the
rocky ground, wincing as rock and brush tore at my naked
skin. Claws bit into my back and I swung back, throwing the
wolf off me.

He came at me again and I barely managed to shift one

hand before he made contact. His muzzle snapped
repeatedly, trying to get at my throat. I shoved my hand into
his belly and he yelped, but it didn't stop his assault. The
wolf's head went back suddenly and his massive body fell
backward off mine.

Noah helped me up and we continued on.
A series of loud pops rang out and I ducked to the ground,

trying to cover my head. Noah grabbed my arm and
screamed over the sound of gunfire and the roaring engines
of the helicopter.

"They're shooting behind you, not at you! Run, Ethan!"
I risked a look behind us and when I saw the number of

wolves running toward us, I had no problem running. The
wash was strong, but we made it to the waiting helicopter
and hands grabbed at us, pulling us inside.

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102

I sat on a bench seat in the corner, trying to catch my

breath as the aircraft lifted off. The gunfire continued
sporadically and then finally stopped. I pulled Noah into my
arms and kissed the top of his head, looking up at the crew
for the first time.

They were all dressed in military-like uniforms, except they

were black instead of camouflage and there was a purple and
gold insignia patch on their chest and sleeves. The one who
had manned the gun sat back and smiled—except it wasn't a
man at all.

The woman smiled and tossed over a scratchy wool

blanket and a headset. When I frowned at the headset, Noah
took it and put it on. For a few minutes, he talked with her
and—I assumed, by the way the other crew members were
nodding their heads—the rest of the crew.

After a while, one of the crew handed Noah another

headset and he put it on me, smiling. "Can you hear me?"

"Yep."
"We've got three choices: New York, Louisiana, or Texas."
"My vote is Texas," I said. "Though, Louisiana wouldn't be

bad either."

"I'm leaning toward Texas."
"Texas it is, then," I said with a smile.
He chewed his lip for a minute. "Only thing with Texas?

The pack is a part of a larger coven."

"Witches?"
He shook his head. "Vampires."
Vampires.

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103

Sure, I'd heard of them as a kid growing up. But I'd never

in my life come across one. I wasn't sure if this was a good or
bad thing, but if Noah was willing, then I'd go.

"Vampires, huh? That safe?"
The woman threw another blanket over that hit me in the

chest. She grinned as I met her eyes, showing her fangs.
"Vampire just saved your butt, wolf-boy."

Another crew member turned and lifted the visor covering

his face. He grinned as well, showing his set of fangs. Wow.
What a way for me to really put my foot in it. Noah jabbed
me in the side, laughing.

"I think we're good, baby."
"Yeah." I settled the blanket over me and leaned into

Noah. "We're gonna be good."

We settled into silence and the crew took up their own

flight conversation, talking bearings and headings and all.
Noah laced his fingers through mine and squeezed, but didn't
say anything. I wasn't sure I knew what to say, myself. So
much had happened, so much had changed.

Both of us had left unfinished business behind, but there

would be a time for dealing with that later. For now, I was
just glad we were safe, glad we were both alive, and glad
we'd found each other when we did.

Everything else was just details.

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104

Son of a Bitch
By Emily Veinglory
It was about one in the morning when a stranger walked

into the Gnoxville West gas station. He was tall and thin,
wearing a sharp, grey linen suit with the jacket on despite the
intense summer heat. His face was long with high
cheekbones, well-defined cheeks and heavy brows. He was
one classy piece of ass, and his MG convertible was sitting out
on the forecourt smoking like a rainy Fourth of July. Nate got
a feeling God was being good to him for a change—if he could
just find some way to unwrap the gift he was being given.

Nate snapped down the lid of the laptop he was concealing

beneath the counter; eBay could wait. He stepped out from
behind the till and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back
pocket. He look a good long look out through the glass door
and tapped a smoke out of the pack. He could smell it, the
weak, warm, sweet scent of a normal, healthy man—part of
him recoiled, wanting more, wanting the musk of wolf-blood.

"It's fucked," Nate said unsympathetically, with a nod in

the direction of the car.

"Are you a mechanic?" snapped the cute suit.
Nate snorted. "Think y'have to be a mechanic to know it's

fucked?"

The suit drew himself up tall, and he had the 'tall' to do it

with, took one look over to the car's fairly convincing
impression of Mount Vesuvius, and sighed all his outrage back
out again. His shoulders slumped. And that was pretty much
when Nate decided he liked the guy as well as fancied him. It

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105

would have been a pity to see a thousand odd dollars worth
of suit walking around on some kind of nickel and dime man
who couldn't see the truth when it spat in his eye. Besides,
Nate had gone a-roving because he wasn't going to play beta
wolf to his old Uncle Dill anymore, so he sure wasn't going to
do it for some leftover from the yuppie era.

"Is there a hotel nearby?" the man finally asked in a terse

but passably civil tone of voice.

"In town, about ten miles, but I don't have a car and the

taxi doesn't run this late."

Nate reached back and, pulling a lighter from the display

by the register, lit his cigarette. Before he took a puff he drew
a little of the stale air of the shop in and over his tongue, he
could taste it—very faint but as unmistakable as boar taint—
the man was responding to him. Then he drew in a deep puff.
If anything was going to happen he needed to knock those
lupine senses back a bit before they rejected a willing man for
just not being dog enough. He leaned back against the
counter and took in that first delicious drag deep into his
lungs—hoping the old wolfy vigor was going to keep him out
of an oxygen tent in his old age. He needed the obfuscating
smoke more than the nicotine, but he wasn't in a hurry to do
without either.

"Are you allowed to smoke in here?"
"Nope." But that was kinda rude, and here he was wanting

to make friends and all. "The owner never really comes by,"
Nate added. "And we haven't seen the manager in months.
So I guess they don't have to know."

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The man shrugged, pulled out one of those super fancy cell

phones, and flipped it open. He looked at the glowing display
a while—probably coming to terms with the fact that
everybody he knew lived somewhere on the far, far, civilized
coasts of these United States and none of those little bars
was lit up anyway—and then snapped it closed.

"So the taxi doesn't run this late?"
"There's but one cab, and if you call Bob and wake him up

at this time of night he won't come tonight, and he won't
come in the morning just for spite."

Nate blew a smoke ring, nice and tight, and watched it

wobble across the room and fade away. He scratched his
chest idly, which was easy to do as he hadn't bothered with a
shirt. All he had on was a pair of cut off jeans that had frayed
to just the far side of decent. Nate wasn't too bothered by
showing skin, getting seen. He could almost match this guy's
height but had the muscular breath and golden tan to go with
it. His whole appearance was designed to attract a little
attention, highlighted hair in a faux-hawk that fell almost to
his waist at the back and dark wrap-around shades hooked
over his front pocket. This far out in the country it helped to
put what you had in the window so you could smell out who
took an interest. It was pretty much the only way to know
when you were cruising rednecks.

"Look, Mr..." the stranger began.
Mister, that was interesting. So was the way the suit's

eyes both flinched and lingered over just how much Nate had
on display. Nate swayed grudgingly to standing fully upright,
and dug in his pockets.

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"Until come about nine you're pretty fucked, too," he said.

"So you can sit here or you can hang in my trailer; it's out
back. Help yourself to a beer, watch the TV, whatever. It'll be
easy to get a tow and a mechanic in the morning."

He tossed the keys to his place, which the man fumbled

for, but caught. "Should I, uh, move my vehicle out of the
way? I wouldn't want to block the pumps," he said.

"I'll do that, Mr..."
"Parish, Steven Parish. Um, are you quite sure..."
"Hell, car that size I could probably pick it up and carry it."
"No, I mean about staying in your home. I could just wait

here, um, somewhere." He looked around the glaring lit, but
less than ample, interior of the gas station. It dated from a
time when gas stations pretty much only sold gas. There was
a desultory rank of largely date-expired snack food, a normal
domestic refrigerator full of beer and, but that and an open
expanse of scuffed linoleum exhausted the entertainment
potential of the place.

"Well, Mr. Steve," Nate said patiently. "I've worked

midnight to eight in this goddamn store for almost a year now
and I can tell you it starts out dull and gets duller by the
minute. You go catch some TV, cadge a drink or a spell of rest
and I'll get you that cab when my shift's done and dig out the
number for a tow-truck to boot. We're not a full service set-
up here; you'll need your Tonka toy taken on into town for
fixing."

"Well if you're sure..."
"You can call me Nate."
"Nate, then. Nathaniel, is it?"

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"Only to my Mom and that's only 'cause she knows I don't

like it. The place is 'round back, you help yourself."

Steven hesitated, seeming confounded by what was really

a pretty straightforward offer. Okay, one with a half-thought
out ulterior motive—there was that.

But Steven finally muttered, "Okay. Thanks." He went out

and got a few things from his car and headed around the side
of the station where the trailer was easy enough to find—
there not being another structure for miles.

Nate leaned back on the counter and sucked smoke deep

into his lungs, trying to ignore what his old Mom would say
about him taking the habit up again. Trying to hide a smoking
habit when your Mom's a werewolf had been pretty much
impossible—if he hadn't been such a dumb kid he would have
realized that. But after a few moments of self-deprecating
nostalgia his thoughts naturally drifted to just what he might
be able to get up to with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Lithesome back in
that trailer, given half a chance. He looked around the station
and wondered just how much trouble he'd get in if the place
was trashed by thieves while he went AWOL.

Perhaps in reaction to his family's relaxed attitude to

employment, education or just about any institution, Nate
liked to think of himself as the reliable type. It was almost
four in the morning when he finally figured he had already
been far more conscientious than this piss-ant minimum wage
job could possibly justify. He scribbled a note for Jessy, who
would arrive at eight—and to any unfortunate motorist
without a credit card who might call in before then. Just this
once he was going to finish early and he sure hoped he had a

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good reason. Maybe it had been a mistake to give the rich-
boy enough time to go cold—or as cold as was possible right
now.

He locked everything up tight and tucked his laptop under

his arm. His main source of income was a combination of
some online schemes, eBay trading, stock photography and a
running a little gang of paid forum posters. Working a low
paying but pretty undemanding night job at the gas station
meant he could cobble together a more regular living wage
and provided a rent-free crib to do that living in. It all left the
days open for roaming, true-form, in the remnants of woods
that straggled around the town. Some days Nate felt
suspended halfway between the evolutionary past and the
digital future. Time was, his folks had made sure it wasn't a
comfortable place to be. They never understood why he didn't
get some job or scam, get some girl pregnant and get on with
living what most of the pack seemed happy to call a life. And
for all his frustration what was he doing now he'd left? Even
less than that.

Fuck it. He had his own crib now, and for a change he

wasn't going to be alone in it. He cracked open the trailer
door. Angst could wait if flesh was on offer. The cool,
flickering light of the TV splayed over the scene. Steven lay
on his back on the small sofa with his leg hooked over the
arm. His shoes and jacket were off and a single button was
undone as a belated concession to the continuing heat wave.
His arm was thrown back in an improvised pillow and his head
lolled to one side. Give the length of his lanky body and the

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small dimensions of the couch it could hardly be comfortable.
Trailer Adonis, by the light of the TV.

Nate stowed his computer away in the kitchen cabinet, and

then opened the small refrigerator. Even that brief wash of
cool air was welcome. He wrapped his hands around two cold
bottles of beer. Getting beer in glass bottles cost a little more
but he liked the feel of them—the second best thing God
made to fit in a man's hand. He flipped the lids off using the
edge of the Formica counter and strolled over to the sleeping
man, crouching down beside him. Up close, Steven's face
seemed almost gaunt, with high cheeks and deep sunk eyes
like an old Italian painting. He looked more handsome this
way, less self-conscious. Laying the cool bottle against
Steven's arm, Nate startled him awake.

"You could have used the bed," Nate said. "Here, take

this—the heat is killing."

"Thanks." Steven reached out groggily, fumbling for the

bottle. "Sorry," he mumbled by way of an excuse. "I'd been
driving most of the day and night." He swung his legs to the
floor and took a deep, thirsty drink.

Nate watched Steven's pale throat work, feeling a sort of

possessive thrill already. God, he hoped he didn't cock this
up; it'd been too long.

Finally Steven dropped the bottle, and gave a satisfied

sigh. "Thanks for that. You know, I didn't want to put you out
of your bed."

"I was at work anyway."
"Well, but, now you're not."

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There was something cute about his manner. Beneath his

citified appearance, Steven was a careful, almost bashful, sort
of man. Nate could tell he wouldn't be the sort that needed to
posture or have power over someone just to feel secure. He
was beginning to understand what his Mom saw in human
men.

"You still wouldn't have to put me out of the bed, if you

didn't want to." Nate gave Steven an appraising look,
wondering just how obvious he was going to have to be, but
it seemed to be getting through.

"Do you do this often, Nate? Give a passing stranger a

drink and proposition them?"

"Cost of beer these days, they only get a beer if'n I really

like them." Nate grinned, starting to feel something promising
between them.

"So, what now?" Steven still seemed nervous and

awkward, out of his element.

But Nate was more than willing to take the lead. He felt it

as they passed through the tipping point—this was going to
happen. "It seems to me that you've got an awful lot of
clothes on, for a start," he said.

Steven seemed a little uncertain but he stood convulsively.

"Oh, well then how about this?"

He unbuttoned his shirt with clumsy fingers, laying it over

the arm of the couch. Then the trousers, tighty-whiteys
underneath Nate noted, and even—with noticeable
thoroughness—his socks and wristwatch were added to the
pile. Steven held out his hands in a gesture somewhere
between 'so there' and 'now what?'

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Now he knew for sure that it was on, Nate wasn't about to

hurry. Even up close and backlit Steven had a long, lean
body—not muscular but not soft and with a cock to match.
Nate tipped back his head and chugged his beer in one long
go. Then he stood, still holding the bottle and undid the fly of
his old jean-shorts and let them drop. That was all he needed
to do to be naked.

He didn't have much need to be bashful. Between a little

training out back and the long runs he took in wolf-form his
body was effortlessly muscular, rounded and tanned all over.
Some of the built up muscles were in odd places for a human
athlete, but nothing anyone would notice if they didn't already
know what they were looking for. He took a deep breath in,
barely scenting anything over a subtle fog of smoke and
alcohol. Tension started to build up inside him.

That's right, brain. Ignore the vomeronasal organ; listen to

the cock.

He nodded over to the bed. Steven turned and walked

ahead of him through the tidy but confined space of the old
trailer. His spine was a sinuous shadow, his ass tight to the
point of non-existence atop long, lean thighs. Nate stifled a
deep growl, he want to have this—to possess it. Steven
glanced back, quickly, as if unsure Nate would be following.

By the side of the bed Nate came up behind Steven,

stopped him from turning. They were of a height, Nate felt his
own cock already half hard and thick enough to satisfy any
man slide against Steve's ass.

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"Why don't you tell me what you want?" Nate asked, he

ran the mouth of his empty beer bottle down Steven's pale
shoulder.

"Why don't you just show me," Steven whispered in reply.
And at that moment Nate knew he didn't have to worry—

this one was going to be juuuust right.

He held the neck of the empty beer bottle up to his mouth,

wetting the neck with spit along with the ball of his thumb.
Then, reaching down, he guided it between Steven taut
buttocks. He stroked down his thumb, rubbing and circling
Steven's hole, and then pressing in.

"I don't know if you're ready for what I've got," he mused,

sliding his broad thumb slowly in and out, circling. He eased
in the narrow smooth neck of the bottle. "I'm a good deal
bigger than this."

He turned the bottle slowly, reaching around to place his

other hand flat on Steven's lean stomach. Steven felt smooth,
slim but somehow soft, shut up doing some kind of office job
while Nate was out in the woods hunting for what still passed
as game in these parts. Nate pulled the smooth glass back
and set it aside.

Steven didn't reply, he just leaned forward and placed his

hands flat on the trailer wall, spreading his feet a little further
apart—not much interested in foreplay it seemed. Nate felt a
satisfied smile curled his lips. He reached down under the bed
and quickly pulled out a condom and lube. He prepared
himself, letting the anticipation arc up through his body. He
tore open the packet and rolled the condom down over his
thick, aching cock and rubbed the slick lube over the top.

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Steven wasn't fooling him. City boy might be used to

taking charge of all sorts of high-powered situations, but right
now he was tense, fingers clutching at the wall and whole
body wound tight. Nate wiped his hand on his own thigh then
reached forward. He stroked down Steven's long torso, thin
enough to betray a ripple of ribs, narrow waist...

Leaning over, Nate brushed his lips dryly over Steven's

angular shoulder, feeling the tickling ends of his collar length
hair. "You seem to be in a bit of a hurry," he whispered.

"Do you want me to change my mind?"
Anything but that. Nate leaned in, positioning his cock

against that unambiguously offered rear. He felt Steven's lean
body braced beneath him. With one hand he positioned his
cock, tentatively urging it forward. Steven's body gave
grudgingly. They slid and sealed together, tight. The
sensation of that first creeping, deep thrust flowed through
him slowly as he kept tight rein on his impulses.

Steven pushed his arms rigid and straight, arching his

back and pressing back until they were locked together. Nate
reached around his left hand, still wet with lube, and grasped
Steven's cock, raised up hard and long. He kept his body still.
Feeling Steven's arched back against his stomach and chest,
he closed his eyes and concentrated. He worked Steven's
cock systematically, fingers tight as he pulled up, looser as he
slipped down—slowly at first, but then faster. Steven shivered
beneath him.

His hand worked mercilessly, but his body focused on the

feeling of that tight ass squeezing his own cock, tight and

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warm as the muscle shifted and clenched around its root.
Steven's cock was hard and upright in his palm, responding...

"No, I'll..." Steven protested, shifting his feet.
Only then did Nate relent. Keeping Steven's cock gripped

in one hand, he started to fuck the man, short half-strokes
pushing all the way in each time. He squeezed his hand tight,
tight and he grunted, pushing faster curtailed pumping
thrusts. He felt himself swollen hard, straining the confines of
the fragile condom. He pounded hard, pushing Steven
forward so that his elbows landed against the wall.

Sweat slid between their bodies. It beaded and began to

trickle down his stomach, a peculiar counterpoint to the hot,
crude rhythm of the rut building inside him. He thrust hard,
feeling Steven jerk, coming and wilting in his hand.

He ground deep, turning Steven and pushing him face

down across the bed. Bracing his feet back he drove hard into
Steven, biting down on the man's shoulder with a growl. His
hands under Steven's armpit clutched at the covers. He felt
the surge of lust, of mastery, of completion. Coming wetly, he
spilled out and collapsed forward.

In the minutes afterward his body grew calmer, colder and

heavier. A gauzy mist fell over his mind, dulling his sated
senses. Steven shifted under him and Nate rolled aside. Dawn
was breaking through the shabby curtains and he suddenly
felt tired and empty. Part of him expected Steven to just
leave; somehow, even having nowhere to go, but instead the
guy pulled up those long legs and eased over in the narrow
bed, pulling up the blanket.

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"I don't know about you but I could actually use an hour or

two of sleep," Steven said.

Nate accepted the invitation, sliding in beside Steven,

close in the small space with the quilt settling over them.
Reaching one arm around, he felt Steven settle in against
him, facing away but spooning close. All was quiet except for
a whisper of breeze and the slight creaking as the first rays of
the sun hit the trailer.

Gradually Nate's dulled sense began to clear, the smell of

sex dense and sour. He grimaced and eased his hip and legs,
a loose tangle, into a more comfortable position and tried to
force his body to accept, his mind to rest. Not wolf.

No, not wolf—but it will do, it is more than you had

yesterday and more than I deserve. Pray to still have this
tomorrow. Bloody instincts, always howling for the moon.

"That taxi really not run at night?" Steven asked drowsily.
"If you'd offered Bob enough money, he'd of come."
"That's what I thought," Steven said. "On the whole, I'd

rather you did."

Oh, very droll. "You staying in these parts?" Even asking

felt like a concession, a weakness that was hard to admit. But
tomorrow was his one night off for the week and he knew
how he'd like to spend it.

"A while," Steven said softly. "A while at least."
And then they were both quiet as the day came to life

slowly all around them. The quite satisfaction of the moment
was broken by a sharp rapping at the door. Nate tensed up all
over. Logic suggested it was Jessy with some problem, maybe
lost her keys again, but there was something rather too

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imperious in the cadence of the rap for it to be the diffident
teen. He slid from the narrow bed, Steven shifting and
looking up blearily as Nate clambered over him.

He cracked the door. Fuck. If there was one thing he sure

wasn't expecting right now it was this, his mother, the Kerry
family matriarch, standing on the doorstep. She should have
been two-hundred miles away on the family lands.

"Open up," she said perfunctorily from the side of her

mouth not clenching a cigarette stub, balancing a paper
supermarket bag under each arm and basically kicking the
door open in any case.

Nate stumbled back, bemused and suddenly aware of the

shabbiness of the trailer, the laundry strewn here and there
with the other refuse of a bachelor life—and then, belatedly,
of the naked man in his bed.

Mom dropped the sacks on the small bench that separated

the small kitchen aisle for the rest of the space in the one-
room trailer. "This boy of yours like bacon," she said. "Or just
sausage?" With a dry laugh she started to rummage through
the few Formica-fronted cupboards, in what was destined to
be a fruitless search for a frying pan.

Nate's brain was rather struggling to keep up, a common

experience around Mom but one he had thought he had
outrun, if not outgrown.

"Mom, I've been meaning to tell you..."
"That you're a faggot. What kind a mother would I be if I

didn't know that already? I known it since you were yea
high." She gestured vaguely at some height below her waist.

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"I didn't even know myself 'til I was a couple of inches

taller than you."

"Meh, you never was observant."
Nate rolled his eyes; he grabbed Steven's clothes and

tossed them to him, leaving him bashfully fumbling to dress
beneath the blanket. Not that Mom was copping a look, she
was too busy casting the evil eye at his one cooking utensil, a
battered aluminum saucepan just big enough to fit an egg
and currently containing a mixture of charred remains and
blossoming fungus.

"Steven's got to get into town, for work," Nate said,

clambering into his old cut offs and a Tee.

"I brought the truck," Mom said, tossing him the keys.
Nate caught them and put them down on the counter. "I'll

borrow a friend's car," he said. "You know what Dill'll do if he
finds out you did anything for me."

She was acting like the last six months had never

happened. God alone knew what this omened, but, tensing
his jaw, Nate knew he dare not get into it with an outsider
around. Even a normal conversation with Mom had a
tendency to end up with shouting and throwing things, and
challenging Uncle and leaving the pack, those weren't normal
things. On of the reasons he'd lit out straight afterward was
to avoid having to tell his Mom why he'd done something that
stupid. Now she was acting like everything was hunky dory,
like nothing had happened at all.

"Dill will pretend he didn't even notice I was gone," Mom

said with disdain. "And the rest'll follow his lead as usual."
Which was probably true, and wasn't that just the problem.

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She could get away with ignoring the rules herself, which
meant she just kept going along with it happening to
everyone else—even her own son.

Steven was shoving his feet into his shoes without

bothering to unlace them, but with tight, tailored brogues it
wasn't really working. Still, he hobbled out of the trailer after
Nate, flapping to get his jacket on.

Closing the door, Nate turned. Steve was no

disappointment by daylight. Dark stubble peppered his strong
jaw, but his eyes and manner were tentative—civilized. Not
wolf. He probably wasn't used to Maury-style dramatics in the
morning.

"You go give Jessy, she's the dark haired girl who'll be

working at the station now, give her your key and tell her
your car's in the shed and I need to borrow her van," Nate
said. "Then I can take you to Neil the mechanic and he'll
come tow it in, and either he'll have a loaner or I'll drop you
where you need to go. I just gotta have a quick word with my
Mom here, so do that and I'll be right out before you're ready
to go."

"This Jessy, she'll just take my word..." Steven sounded

uncertain.

"Sure she will, you go on."
Nate watched him go, and then stepped back into the

trailer. It was hard to say, but true: "Mom, you shouldn't
oughtta be here. When the pack turned me out, that's the
end of it, you know that's how it works." He stood back by the
door, watching her scrubbing the old pot in the sink.

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"You need some more detergent, son." That was Mom all

over; she was world class at just ignoring things she didn't
want to deal with.

"This isn't just something you can ignore away, Mom. It's

done. It's over. I couldn't take Dill a second longer, I
challenged him, and I won. But the pack turned me out, they
wouldn't have me—they'd rather have the abusive fucking
son-of-a bitch even when he was crawling on the ground at
my feet."

"You should have talked to me first, boy. I'd have told you

that would happen. The alpha's gotta be the sire, he's gotta
be with the women. You weren't fooling them any more than
you were fooling me. It's about the kiddies, you know. It was
you and Dill's boy Travis that brought this all up too early
when you couldn't win."

Anger boiled up in Nate but he wasn't giving in to that

anymore. He took a deep breath. "Mom, I love you, but you
and the whole clan are hypocrites. You went and had me off a
human daddy, not the dog your brother picked for you. Dill
will fuck any girl in the pack that's not his kin, he's got a
score of kids and all he contributes to raising them is
beatings. Most of the women in the family claim welfare
saying their kids have no father they can name and it's true.
He's no father no matter how you look at it. Not to any of
them, not to Travis who wants an education, he wants to do
more. And no matter what that sick fuck said, he's just a kid
and I was just looking out for him. It's screwed up, Mom, the
whole place is screwed up, and you and the rest of them keep
it that way. I'm out of it. All the way out and no returns."

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Mom finally put down the pot and turned to him, damp

hands on her hips. "We're wolves, Nathaniel. And maybe
you're only half it, but it's still part of what you are. And as
for Travis, he's got a lot of stupid ideas—wants to get a
degree, wants to be a picture painter, wants to go about
wearing eye-liner. You shouldn't have encouraged him 'cause
it wasn't good for him and it sure wasn't good for you. You
made a fool move. You're not going to make it on your own."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. But that's

exactly what I'm going to do. And you need to leave me to it,
loosen up the apron strings for God's sake because I'm all
grown up and I take after Daddy—whoever the fuck he was.
And I'm still wolf enough to say this. I was turned out, I'm on
my own and this is my den—my place. You don't stay in it if I
don't want you to."

Mom was a canny wolf; a powerful woman in her own

way—in that she always managed to do thing her own way
without crossing the big dog. Facing her, Nate felt his heart
beating hard, but he stood up tall. My place. Not much, but
mine, alone. His Mom bristled, wiping her hands, waiting for
him to go on, say something she could twist around and use
against him, but Nate just stood. I may be a lone wolf now,
but this little place is mine. Mine and I've lived here, slept
here, fucked here, made it a den and I rule it. I am the alpha
here, at least.

Her eyes actually slid to the side, not meeting his gaze,

but not dropping down and deferring. "We'll talk about it
when you come back."

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Nate just sighed and turned away. "When I come back,

you won't be here," he said. But this time he was the one who
didn't meet her eyes. No matter how he tried, he couldn't
quite tell her what to do and expect it to work.

Mom was the only one allowed to just do things her own

way. The rest had to toady up to Dill, a big, stubborn sort of
man, but brutal and stupid with it. Well, no how, no more, no.
Not for me. He got out of the trailer and strode away, but
paused before turning the corner, closed his eyes for a minute
and opened his fisted hands. Because he had left it behind,
and she would only drag him back in if he let her.

He met up with Jessy and Steven standing outside the

open-fronted shed.

"...Been wondering where it came from," Jessy said,

tossing her head with painfully obvious flirtation.

Jessy was a slim, model-beautiful teen with long dark hair.

She had just enough awareness of her looks to be holding out
for a better prospect than Gnoxville had to offer. No wonder
she was latching onto Steven.

"Hey Jessy," Nate called. "Is it cool to borrow your van?"
She turned to him with ill-concealed disappointment.

"Sure, Nate. But could you drop it off at my Dad's—he needs
it for shifting some stuff to the shop and it'll save Sis from
having to drop him out here to get it."

"Sure thing."
Jessy and her folks always seemed to be swapping

vehicles, and pretty much any other sort of property, around
between them in a complex, frequently renegotiated pattern
that seemed to magically turn their few assets into enough

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for everyone. She dug in her pockets and pulled out the key
on a big fob in the shape of a hot pink peace sign and handed
it over.

"You'll be able to get back out here somehow?"
"Oh sure, you know me."
"I know you," Jessy said tartly. "I know that nobody knows

how you get all around without a car, or how you pay for
most of your stuff on what Old Fred pays us. That's what I
know about you." She leaned over to Steven to say, "You
watch out for this one," before sauntering back to the station,
swaying her hips in a way that suggested she knew she was
being watched.

Which Steven, as it happened, was. He is actually checking

out the jailbait, bloody hell. Nate studied Steven's profile and
realized he'd have to mark his latest catch down as probably
bi, or at the very least the 'bi now, gay later' sort. Nate might
not have Steven's character quite nailed down, but he was
pretty sure a conventional looking considerate sort of guy like
him wouldn't actually rob the cradle. So, Jessy was a little too
young to be competition, but the marriage-ables of the town
would be on the man like flies at a picnic. It would be funny if
it didn't worry him a bit; some of them were nice enough
girls, in their way.

Steven was still looking at the gas station but there was

nothing there now but a shiny glass frontage reflecting the
road out front and the birch windbreak on the other side.

"Penny for them," Nate said.
"What?" Steven turned, a tentative smile curling his

mouth. "I was just thinking how I was sure my time in a small

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town like this was bound to be a little dull. It was sort of a
punishment assignment you know. But so far, I don't have
any complaint."

"Well, that's good to know."
Nate headed to the side of the station where Jessy's old

Ford Escort was parked. It was a little worrying to realize how
possessive he felt about a man he'd met just the previous
night. As he slid into the driver's seat, Steven clambered in
the other side, looking like he was trying to hover over the
grubby seat upholstery rather than sit on it. He was still
fumbling with the defective seat belt as Nate floored it and
skidded out around back to the gravel road, cutting across
the grassy verge and straight onto the highway as he flicked
the radio on. Sheryl Crow was booming out as they sped
toward town and into a big, bright Saturday morning.

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2.
A little later that day Nate was still feeling pretty fine. After

going by the mechanic, he'd left Steven at that 80s
apartment block by the river, mostly untenanted even now,
Gnoxville not really being an 'apartment' kind of town even
when you weren't talking peach-colored stucco. Steven was
busy dealing with a pile of boxes and starting to set up what
was apparently meant to be a 'home office'. Nate started to
feel a bit surplus to requirements, restless ... and thirsty.

Steven, it seemed, was not to be distracted until every

device was correctly plugged, wired, installed and tested, so
Nate went to drop off the van, which involved getting caught
in a long conversation with Papa Collier, to the extent that he
was required to say 'uh-huh' periodically for over an hour and
refuse half a dozen offers of a lift. Nate held his wrap-around
sunglasses in his hand, toying with the hinges.

"I'm not in a hurry to get back," Nate said. "I'll just drop

into town, you know. Go to the barber or something."

"Go to that that hair-dresser girl you mean," Papa said

jovially. "You know some of the old farts go on about you with
hair down to your ass, but I say—go for it. Wish I'd enjoyed
my hair better when I had it, ah, those were the days. But
how will you get back out to the trailer after?"

"I'll walk it; I do it all the time."
"That's why you're in good shape, kid," Papa—as everyone

called him—said, hitching up his pants, which were more
pinned in place by the over-flow of his stomach than held up
by their belt. "Walking, I don't walk anywhere, you know."

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"Well, you have a car, Papa. No need to."
"I have four; it's just that only one of them works right

now." He laughed. "But, you, Nate, have a future. I can tell.
You just wait a couple of years and let Jessy get some kind of
sense, and we'll see."

Nate stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. Where

the hell did that come from? God knew what Papa was seeing
in him but he sure as hell wasn't comfortable with it. "I hardly
think..."

Papa finally seemed content to let him go. Nate had the

funny feeling their whole discourse had been designed to get
around to that point, and now that Papa had imparted it, Nate
would be allowed to escape.

"I can see it in your eyes," Papa added. "But you do need

to do something about those clothes if you want to end up
with right sort of woman." He ambled up into the house
apparently satisfied at having dispensed his advice.

Nate sighed, and then headed into town to drop into his

favorite of the town's three pubs. The Blarney was a half-
hearted attempt at an Irish theme pub run by a Taiwanese
family who represented the sum total of Gnoxville's ethnic
diversity. The pub had been retrofitted from a glass-fronted
store just off the main street, but it still looked like a cross
between a hole in the wall bar and dress shop, with open,
unfrosted windows and high-hanging fluorescent lighting.
Between the big window and the bright lighting, after dark
you never had to guess who got there ahead of you.

It was coming up to lunchtime and as Nate came up to the

door he saw a flash of his reflection in the glass: tall, tanned

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in his denim shorts and a faded out black Tee with a memory
of a wild turkey logo on it. His hair was cut by Denise, the
blonde hairdresser's notion of a 'mullet Mohawk', a little short
sided but sweeping back into a tail that didn't quite reach
down to his ass, but was on the way and all highlighted in
straw blond. It was a bit much, he had to admit, but Denise
didn't get many chances to experiment in this town so he
didn't like to say no.

The look was completed by an old pair of Ray bans which

he lifted off as he stepped inside. Papa kind of had him
thinking about it. He liked his look well enough, he liked his
body, he liked the rare occasions when he could find another
guy who liked it, too. But when the hell was he going to grow
up? When his wolf senses wouldn't let him settle down with a
normal human, where was he going to get the family he so
desperately wanted? In the space of a few steps his mood
had deflated to the kind of black depression he hadn't felt,
not once, since leaving his natal pack behind. Perhaps, in the
end, he'd have to abase himself to some other clan to try and
get taken in.

In a reflexive response he pulled out one of the loose

cigarettes shoved into his pocket. But Li-Ling snapped from
behind the bar. "You don't smoke in here, Nate. You know
that!"

With a sigh he shoved it back. With one intake of breath

he smelled the two strangers. There were half a dozen locals
up at the bar, Old Hank and some of the workers from the
corn canning factory on their lunch break. There were several
chipped, round Formica tables along the window front, and if

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he hadn't been looking at his own damned reflection he
woulda seen the men sitting there well before now. Uncle Dill
would always say it, half a wolf is no kind of wolf at all. He
ought to know what was around him all the time not be
burying it in smoke and liquor. But what else could he do
trying to live up close to people who aren't wolf, without
going loco?

They were dressed in what might count as casual in the

city. Clean, blue, factory-faded jeans riding low like the girls
wore them and shirts printed with bright retro patterns. Little
Raff, Li-Ling's son, was dropping the Blarney's take on a
panini in front of each of them. It was really more like a
squashed hamburger with a lot of cheese in it.

One of the men, the line of his head stubble showing his

receding hair line, made some kind of comment that made
Raff laugh nervously. Then his younger companion gave him
a nudge, looking over at Nate.

Nate scowled. Raff had sprouted up, and towered over his

mother, but he was still only fifteen and shouldn't be getting
any crap from customers. The younger guy came over the bar
just as Nate sat down on the stool nearest the door.

"Ma'am," he said, to get Li-Ling's attention. "We were

wondering if you might know where we could find a Mr.
Steven Parish. He just moved to Gnoxville but we are not
sure where he might be staying."

She just gave him a look, then turned to Nate, "You're

here first," she said in that abrupt way she had. "You want?"

"Coffee, strong as you can make it."

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"You drink it too strong," she said as she ambled off

around the corner where the percolator sat. He could tell from
the noise she was making that there wasn't a pot on so she
would be at it for a while.

Raff came back around behind the bar. "She doesn't

know," he replied—used to blithely answering for his mother
from the time her English wasn't very good.

Karl was the cannery worker sitting closest, he swiveled

towards the stranger. "Just 'cause this is a small town doesn't
mean we all know every damn thing that happens. You think
you can just walk up to whoever to find this guy?"

The other stranger was coming up to the bar, Nate looked

over at Karl without amusement or approval. "Mr. Parson is at
the Grove Street apartments. They don't have a reception
anymore and his phone's not on. But if you head over now
you'll probably find him in."

The older guy gave Karl a cocky 'so there' sort of look. To

which, Karl replied with a muttered "faggot", shifting forward
on his stool so he'd be able to get to his feet quickly.

Nate eased to his feet first. "Lighten up, Karl. Don't make

me get Li-Ling out here to sort you out. You know she doesn't
like bad language in her place."

"It ain't bad language, it's just the truth."
"Why don't you bring that coffee over to the table for me,

Raff," Nate said calmly. He raised his arm to subtly separate
the canners and the strangers and guide the two men back to
their interrupted lunch. "I can show you the way over once
you're done, it's on my way."

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With a somewhat fixed smile he saw them seated, and

then dragged over a plastic chair to put himself between the
two groups with his back to the canners. Karl assuaged his
ego by muttering 'faggots' a few more times. He wasn't really
that bad a guy but he started drinking too early in the day
and didn't how to stop—with drinking or anything else. It
reminded Nate of his aunt's little bantam rooster that stood
up to anything from dogs to bicycles, sure he could take them
on.

"So you've met up with our Steven," the older guy said.
"I'm Gary, this is Perrin," the younger one interjected

quietly reaching over to shake hands awkwardly over the
table.

Perrin didn't offer his hand, being too busy attempting to

vivisect his cooling panini with a plastic knife and fork.

"We work for the same company as Steven," Gary added,

his gaze flicking up bashfully at Nate from behind a shaggy,
carefully styled fringe. "And we thought we'd come down and
help him settle in to his new, ah, assignment."

"So how did you meet him?" Perrin added rather coldly,

almost as if Gary hadn't spoken.

It was Li-Ling who hobbled over with the coffee, despite

Raff's best attempts to wrest it from her. "It's no trouble for
you, Nate-aniel," she said, pronouncing his full name
carefully—though she never got it quite right. She turned to
Gary and Perrin. "He fix our computer right up, and put on a
fire-wall to stop virus."

With a decisive nod, she headed back to the bar. Nate was

pretty sure she didn't really get the idea of viruses and

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software, but the computer was working again and that was
good enough for her. Nate called his thanks after her, and
then turned back to Perrin.

He was a large, but soft and fussy looking man with

rimless glasses. He looked at Nate with a slightly sardonic
angle to his brows and a mouth that was probably frozen that
way from last time the wind changed.

"His car broke down outside of town last night," Nate said

blandly. "I gave him a lift."

He sipped his coffee, just as strong as he liked it. Li-Ling

would be going out back now to add more water to the pot in
case anyone else would want a cup.

"Um, that was good of you," Gary added in after Perrin

met this explanation with nothing but silence.

"It was no trouble."
"So, ah, we thought we would throw Steven a home-

warming party. Is there somewhere we could pick up a few
bottles of wine? He got sort of stuck with a few months work
out here after an argument with the boss about..."

"I don't think he needs to know about that," Perrin

interjected.

The two descended into a muttered conversation. Nate just

sighed. He leaned back in his chair and gestured to Raff, who
came over.

"Could you go and see if your mother still has that box of

Aussie shiraz, will you? This might be your chance to shift
some of it if she'll knock it down a bit."

"He's a nice looking kid," Perrin commented as Raff left.
"He's fifteen," Nate replied with no particular expression.

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"He looks older."
"He isn't." Nate looked straight at the man.
Perrin's expression grew even more sour at the implied

reprimand. "It's not like I was planning to take him out back
and give him an education," he said acidly.

Nate surveyed him coolly wondering what sort of man

Steven really was if these were his friends. Li-Ling came out
carrying the box herself, despite her exasperated son's
attempts to rest it from her. Nate sprang to his feet and
managed to get it from her, settling it carefully on the rickety
table.

"You want that?" Li Ling asked. "You take it, no charge."
"I couldn't accept that," Nate said. He understood how Li-

Ling worked, she was always trying to make things even, so
obviously she thought she owed him for something.

"Oh yes, your job for Raff typing on the computer, he

made enough to buy the new fuel pump for his sister's car. It
is very good to have a job for him where I know where he is."

Well that explained it. Raff was one of his most prolific

forum posters. Webmasters desperate to get activity on their
sites paid him and he in turn got kids like Raff to go on and
start discussions. Raff took to it well because no matter what
the topic, he liked to get online and learn all about it so
nobody would know he wasn't a real enthusiast signing on
just for fun.

"Oh, no, Li-Ling, he earned that money working very hard.

Raff's a good worker. Besides, this is for the gentlemen here."
He lifted the flap and pulled out a bottle. "Rosemount," he
said. "Two-thousand-and-one."

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"You want me to give them a good price?" Li Ling asked

skeptically.

"It's for a new resident, at least for a few months, Steven

Parson. You'll like him. So you should give them a good price,
for him."

"You've had them a long time," Raff said. "What did you

pay for them?"

"I pay six dollars each. I give them to you at cost. For this

Steven if you like him."

For all that she looked like a very traditional woman Li-Ling

was the observant sort.

"I'll take them all, but at five dollars each," Perrin replied.
Karl piped up, "Give her the six, faggot. You can spare it."
Li-Ling spun on him. "You get out. You don't say words like

that in my place. Out!"

In a moment the belligerent canner deflated. He ducked

his head and even managed to mutter a sorry as he shuffled
out. His workmates laughed until she turned on them too.
"You, too. You shouldn't let your friend speak like that, and
lunch is over. You should be at work. You should work hard
and get better jobs!"

They were all still laughing as they dutifully filed out after

Karl.

Satisfied with her exercise of authority Li Ling turned to

Perrin. "You pay me six," she declared. "If you buy all twelve
I give you one dollar off the total." She ran the sum
effortlessly in her head. "That is seventy-one dollars. A good
price."

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"Make it seventy and it's a deal," Perrin conceded. He was

pulling a credit card of some kind from his pocket.

"We don't take those," she said.
The Blarney was still a cash business. Despite Raff's

endless cajoling, Li-Ling did not like the charges that came
with offering debit card transactions. Especially as she would
be the first in the town proper, so getting the service installed
would involve running new cable all the way in from the
nearest current access point at the gas station's self service
pump.

Perrin's face froze as he foresaw the humiliation of not

even being able to pay for the lunch he had half eaten.

"You put that on the tab for me, and I'll settle it next

week," Nate said, "and get Mr. Perrin here to pay you that
extra dollar."

Li-Ling laughed. "Okay," she said. "But you tell this Steven

he needs to bring cash when he comes here. Proper money."
She was still rubbing her fingers together to suggest real bills
as she went laughing back to the bar. She shouted back, "You
carry that box for Nate-anial, Raff."

Raff sat at the table, smiling at the men who were finishing

their lunch. "She paid five dollars each," he whispered
confidentially.

* * * *

Despite the foolishness of it, slender Raff did insist on

carrying the box for them, and under Li-Ling's gaze Nate had
to allow it. Once she had told her son what to do, that was
what he did. Nate did manage to stop Raff from inviting

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himself along for the ride, but had him pace the box in the
small, immaculately clean trunk next to a roadside emergency
kit and what looked like a wicker picnic basket of all things.

Perrin's attitude seemed rather different now that Nate had

saved him from financial embarrassment. He took them out
to his shiny brand new mini cooper and then Nate rode
shotgun and showed them the way as Gary knelt in the back
with an elbow on each front seat so his head was pretty much
between them. Nate couldn't help but think that one sudden
touch on the brake and Gary'd be right through the
windshield, but he managed to keep his mouth shut on the
matter. After all, despite his behavior, Gary was clearly not a
kid and he could do what he liked.

Nate led them up the stairs. "He'll probably be happy to

get a drink," he said. "Last I heard he was pretty pissed about
being sent the wrong sort of fax machine."

The door to the apartment was ajar. Nate stopped and

balanced the box of wine, which he had ended up carrying
after all, on his knee as he rapped on the door. But Gary just
pushed past.

"Stevie-boy," he called out. "The queers are invading."
Perrin cast a glance at Nate, as if expecting him to be

shocked. Obviously Mom wasn't the only one who thought
Nate was pretty damn un-observant.

Steven came out of the office with a roll of tape in one

hand, scissors in the other and a short black power cord
clenched in his teeth. He dropped everything he was carrying
onto the coffee table and greeted Gary with a hug, Perrin with
a handshake and Nate with an ambiguous gesture that he

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deflected into taking the box of wine and carrying it through
to the kitchen.

"Well this isn't too bad," Gary said with false cheer that

indicated an apartment furnished in the mid-eighties might
well be a fate worse than death.

There ensued a degree of milling about, greeting, and

catching up. Nate stayed out of it, but made himself useful.
The corkscrew on his pocketknife proved to be the only one in
the place, but everything else seemed to emerge form the
Tardis-like picnic basket, including wine glasses and a
cascade of deli goods stacked up on cooler packs.

Nate noticed a laptop set up in the office. At a discreet

moment he asked Steven if it was set up for internet and if he
could use it. He took a distracted nod as permission and
logged on. He quickly pulled up a Google spreadsheet of the
payments his forum posters were due and shot them out
through Paypal, then checked his email and cleared up a few
matters, emailing top eBay bidders for his bulk lots of Kinder
eggs and Tony Lama boots.

He closed it all down and cleaned the cache, emerging not

much later to find he had not been much missed. Gary
seemed to be coming to the end of a telling of their
adventures in getting to Gnoxville that made it seem slightly
more arduous than the Lewis and Clark expedition.

"They were looking at us like pit bulls would probably look

at flamingos that happened to wander into their back yard
when..." Gary was saying.

"Right on cue ... Nathaniel, is it?" Perrin said.
"Nate."

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"Nate dropped me off here this morning," Steven said,

passing him a glass of the red which smelled damn good, and
under it Nate started to smell the men—the scent of their
reunion, warm and human. God, he needed another cigarette,
but this would have to do.

"Well, now everything is safely delivered I should

probably..."

"Oh, but you have to stay!" Gary declared as if someone

was trying to steal his latest toy.

"Well," Steven said reluctantly. "Nate does have his

mother visiting."

"Oh God," Nate said as he remembered. And there was no

telling if she'd actually decided to leave him in peace, but he
wasn't betting on it. "Don't remind me." He drained a good
half of his ample glass.

"Why don't you hide out here with us?" Perrin said

conspiratorially.

Nate looked at him suspiciously but the last vestiges of the

man's sarcasm seemed to have faded away. Interesting,
perhaps Perrin didn't get on so well with his mother either.

The seating area was made up of two over-stuffed beige

leather sofas facing each other across the glass coffee table
that was now laden with food. With Gary and Perrin on the
sofa nearest the wall, and Steven on one end of the other,
Nate naturally filled the space remaining. He leaned back with
a sigh.

"Bruschetta?" Gary offered, holding up a plate of some

kind of tomato-based massacre over bread.

"Sure." Nate took it somewhat reluctantly.

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* * * *

Much later in the evening, Perrin was telling the tale of the

encounter that led to Steven being sent out to Gnoxville to
appraise and audit three small businesses that Vert, Inc. had
acquired as a corollary of a larger takeover. The three shops,
the local newsagent, used car lot and, as it turned out, the
gas station, were considered little more than a nuisance to be
dispensed with at a profit if possible. Steven was sent to carry
out this process after a public argument with his line manager
at the merger celebration party.

Nate, who had by now drained his glass a number of

times, leaned upon the soft arm of the sofa. He had the urge
to lean back and rest his legs across Steven's lap but it
seemed that 'Mr. Parson' preferred not to make it at all
obvious what had happened the previous night.

"Pete had had a few," Perrin explained. "And he got going

about the boss of the outfit we'd just taken over and whether
we should keep him on. And it seemed that he had some
opinions in common with our charming friends from the
Chinese lady's bar. Now Steven was, at this point, Pete's
golden boy—up and coming young executive. But then Steven
turns around and calls Pete a bigot loud enough for
everyone...."

"I'd had a far bit to drink that night myself," Steven added.
"Well, I tell you. It had a lot more impact coming from

you, than one of the companies few overt queers like me.
Pete's mouth absolutely fell open to have his own little yes
man turn on him so publicly and vehemently and, and, when

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Steve had finished the people in the room applauded,
including Pete's ostensible boss, Mr. Chapman."

"I wish I'd been there," Gary grumbled.
"Yes, well," Steven said. "Then he told me to come out

here and wind up these companies and think about whether I
was going to kiss his ass or hand in my pink slip when I get
back. I guess that's what being in the closet gets you, the
pressure builds up until the door blows right off."

"You never hid it," Gary said. "I mean you let everyone

know you were ... not exactly straight."

"You think Pete knew?" Steven said. "Everyone saw the

way he looked at you."

"Yeah, so I wore my rainbow ties from time to time,"

Perrin said. "But I never brought Gary to the company
parties; I still toed the line."

"Yeah, well, I let him think I was straight."
Perrin sighed. "Okay," he conceded sardonically. "We both

suck."

"Oh, come on," Gary chided. "Why don't you two fucking

cheer up? It not all gloom and doom."

"And other than your glorious presence," Steven asked,

"What do I have to celebrate?"

"Oh, don't be so coy, Steven. I can out two and two

together and I don't think it's been all doom and gloom. Your
car broke down last night, but Nate dropped you off this
morning. And then there was the way that Chinese lady went
after the guys when they said faggot like she was thinking of
someone in particular. Someone who was in the room."

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Perrin said, actually blushing as he worked it out. "Oh.

How stupid of me. Maybe we do have something to celebrate,
then," he added. "Steven and his rural gaydar, apparently
fully functioning."

"I ... it's a little early to be throwing parties. Which isn't to

say..." Steven stalled.

He looked across to Nate who merely arched his brow in

mute amusement at the poor man's discomfort. Somehow
Steven seemed to think that his two good friends finding out
about his fling was the equivalent of getting engaged.

"And there is something else you two should know,"

Steven deflected. "Pete kind of said I should spend my time
here looking for another position because my next schedule
performance review went I get back is going to be pretty ...
negative; enough to recommend dismissal."

"He what!" Perrin staggered to his feet unsteadily enough

to show that he was a bit the worse for wine as well. "We
can't put up with that."

We? There were bonds between them, despite the different

personalities of each man, there was something that bound
them together. Was it as simple as sexuality? The queer pack
in action? In any case Nate rather envied their obvious amity.
Although he got on pretty well with everyone in town there
wasn't any person he could really call a friend.

"Perrin, I'm going to do it. I'm not like you—I'm not ready

to have everyone know. I'm not going to make some big
stand for a job I didn't like much in the first place. You don't
need to get involved."

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"But you simply can't let him fire you for this, it is

absolutely draconian!"

It was quiet Gary who cut through the tension again. He

was definitely one of those people who wanted other people
to get along. "Perrin, it's late and we've all had a lot to drink.
We can leave this 'til tomorrow." He gave a nod of his head in
an unsubtle indication that he wanted a word with Perrin in
private.

"I..." Perrin began. "But this changes everything. Don't

ask, don't tell is one thing—but to work for a company that is
actually going to fire a man for not being a bigot!"

"Perrin, we'll have time to talk it over tomorrow. I think

we've already intruded quite enough on Steven and Nate for
one evening."

"Oh ... right." That suggestion was enough to get through,

it seemed.

"But you must stay here tonight," Steven said. "Of course.

You can take the bedroom. The bed is made up already."

"We can't take..." Perrin began.
But Gary nudged him, less than subtly and added, "We'll

just sort ourselves out in the bathroom and leave you two
alone."

He all but dragged Perrin and their overnight bags away

down the short corridor into which the bathroom and
bedroom opened. Gary and Perrin muttered together and it
sounded like they went through into the bathroom.

Steven looked over with embarrassment. "It's not like I,

um, expect that you, um..."

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Nate leaned back and drained his glass for the, what, fifth

or sixth time? And now that he looked at it the glass had a
rather wider bowl than was standard and that Aussie wine
was a few percent headier than most. That explained the very
heavy, sedentary feeling that was pressing him down on the
sofa like three g's and rising.

"Well, I think I'm a bit too trashed to be walking home in

the dark," he said. "So if you want to take advantage, this
would be a good time to do it. Not that I'd be complaining,
mind."

He smiled and sat down the empty glass amongst the

refuse of the meal, which prompted Steven to start fussing
around with clearing up. Nate left him to it, letting him fill the
time while his friends were fussing around in the bathroom
and likely to pop out at any moment to see if they could get
an eyeful. While Steven was in the kitchen Nate investigated
the sofa and was pleased to find it folded out. Standing up
cautiously, he found the floor seemed to sway a little.

Fuck, Nate—overdoing it like some kid.
He pushed the glass coffee table very carefully out of the

way and pulled out the folding mechanism of the sofa to sit
flat on the ground. It added up to not much more than a
meager single mattress but it still looked bloody good right
now. Nate crawled onto it and lay face down, his limbs felt
very heavy, splayed out on the soft foam mattress. He could
already feel his mind settling down into a drowsy fog,
thoughts scattering loosely in pre-sleep.

There was a spatter of voices and doors opening and

closing. Then the light went out.

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"So just how drunk are you?" Steven asked. "You weren't

acting it."

"Oh, I'll manage—if you can keep me awake," Nate said

with a smile. He'd never been a wild or angry drunk, just got
quieter and a bit contemplative—or fell asleep. Not that there
was really much chance of that as he felt Steven's hand slide
down the small off his back and slip under the loose
waistband of his shorts.

"Your body is so fine," Steven said very quietly, almost like

he was just talking to himself.

Nate stretched out, raising up his waist so Steven could

reach around and unbutton his shorts, pulling them slowly
down. The heat wave was beginning to ebb, but it was still
languorously warm, much more natural to be naked than
bound even in a token amount of clothing. Steven was
smoothing Nate's T-shirt up, almost rolling it up over his
shoulders and off. From the way their bodies brushed
together Nate could tell he had already undressed on the
darkness.

There was a luxurious feeling to the drowsy, weariness

that weighed down his body and the brush off skin against his
back and side.

"Nate, do you want me to...?" Steven hand lingered over

Nate's ass, the tips of his fingers curling into the crease.

The wolf in him muttered and shifted a little in its sleep,

but Nate paid it no mind. "Steven, if that's what you want to
do this might be one of your few chances. It's not really my
thing to be on the receiving end, but I happen to be in the
mood. Maybe you need to stock up on the Shiraz, eh?" Nate

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twisted his head. He could just see Steven sitting on the edge
of the mattress, looking down at him.

"It's a little hard to believe, you know," Steven said.
"What is?" Nate was feeling a little impatient despite his

mode. He just wanted Steven to get on with it—see what
moves the boy had.

"You."
Nate frowned, "I'm pretty damn ordinary I assure you." He

turned away, uncomfortable with the intensity in Steven's
voice. Nate knew he was pretty ordinary really; he was just a
grown up run-away, a stray dog. He didn't know what Steven
could be seeing in him.

Steven stroked the small of Nate's back rhythmically like

petting some giant cat. "You are beautiful. And I think there's
more to you than you like to show." Steven's hands moved
down over his buttocks, down his thighs and then up again,
tracing the faint crease under his buttocks. "Are you sure you
want this?"

"Quite sure."
It wasn't hard to guess that Steven didn't do a lot of

sleeping around. Nate eased his legs further apart. Steven
moved around, a reassuring rustle, reaching for lube and
condoms, then climbing onto the bed behind him. The next
thing Nate felt was Steven parting his buttocks and a wet
tongue slid up from just behind his balls to his ass in one wet
stroke.

Nate moaned, arching his back. He'd never really felt like

this before, the wolf asleep down inside and his body aching,
empty, desperate to be fucked. There was a pause, Steven

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fumbling in the dark, cursing. Nate laughed. He knew the
sound of an uncooperative condom.

Then Steven was on all fours over him, breathing loud

above him. "Now I've got you," Steven said.

His head laid down over his laced fingertips, Nate pushed

up on his knees. He raised up his ass, feeing his back curve
and strain. Steven's fingers curled around Nate's hip. He
traced down with one, slick finger, and then the rounded,
rubbered tip of his cock was pressing for entry—gentle but
insistent.

Knowing the others were just in the other room, Nate

clenched his jaw and tried to stay silent. His body gave only
grudgingly and with slight pain to this unfamiliar touch. Cool,
wet, careful, Steven slid down into him.

His knee felt weak, sliding on the mattress.
"Here." Steven grabbed the cushion off the floor and

pushed it under him. Easing Nate down.

He felt Steven's cock, hard and intimate inside him, his

own barely responding due to the wine, but he didn't care. He
let his body relax, then stretched, feeling his thighs and ass
tense and grip around the cock that pinned him down. He
waited, wanted. Steven's lips brushed his shoulder, drawing
the moment out.

Then Steven started to slowly ease almost all the way out,

and thrust in harder, deeper—enough to hurt a little. Again,
and again, faster, thrusting down, hitting a wet, raw spot that
made warm waves of visceral pleasure radiate out through
Nate's lax body.

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Panting in the darkness, Steven worked Nate's body with

growing passion, even savagery, until he called out as he
came, stifling himself too late.

"God damn," Steven muttered as he fell forward. "I forgot

we weren't alone."

They could faintly hear laughter and applause from the

bedroom.

"Go ask the bastards for one of those blankets," Nate

muttered.

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3.
In the early morning Nate awoke groggily. Dry-mouthed

but feeling tolerably sober, he eased away from Steven, who
muttered something incomprehensible. The smell of him
welled up from beneath the sheets mingled with sex and the
unpleasant musk of long-disused foam mattress. Deep inside,
Nate's instincts began to rebel. Not wolf.

He sighed, scratching and stretching. Wasn't that always

the problem? The part in him that was wolf could only be
distracted for so long. It looked, in lover, for something like
itself—never fully satisfied by just a man. But where the hell
would ever find a man like Steven who was a dog like him?

As he slipped out of the bed Steven protested. Leaning

over, Nate made his excuses and pulled on his clothes.

"You'll come back later?" Steven asked blearily.
"I'm working tonight."
"Before then?"
Nate sighed. "I have to sort out the situation with my

Mom. Can't hide from it forever. But I'm not pulling a
vanishing act, okay? And if you have a ride you know where
to find me from midnight to eight, six days a week."

Steven flopped back down on the mattress, but he didn't

look convinced. He acted like a man who was kind of used to
being left behind, but didn't like it. Still, Nate had to go. He
couldn't stifle his natural responses indefinitely. He wanted to
lean down and kiss the man, maybe a little more than that,
but the touch and smell would rouse the wolf fully and its

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reaction would probably show through. He was sending
enough mixed signals without risking that.

So Nate got his clothes on with just less than unseemly

haste and got out of the apartment. Shutting the door gently
he trotted down the stairs into a cool morning. The fresh air
in his lungs and solid ground beneath him was all the
invitation the wolf in him needed. It prickled under his skin
like fur growing through and keen in his ears, a phantom cry.

Setting of at a jog, his whole body felt wrong, the wrong

body—such a tiring and inelegant way to move. As soon as he
reached the cover of the trees he wrenched his constricting
clothing off again and barely manage to make himself conceal
the shorts and Tee under a storm drain outlet before the
transformation ripped through him.

Too long held back, the harsh, sudden changing was

painful. The muscles and bone convulsed to their other shape,
his senses contracted and expanded to a new perception. The
world became so much sharper, more acute and immediate
and his very sense of self began to fade into the background.
Within a few minutes, the details of his human thoughts
would slip beyond the reach or interest of his wolf
consciousness. As his paws landed on the mud of the
riverbank, he become part of it, every aching muscle working
smoothly in its place—almost without thought. A familiar rush
and exhalation said freedom, freedom and the world suddenly
seemed a brighter, simpler place.

He made it to the river which stank of agricultural effluent,

but it was still water washing over him. He shook, feeling his
heavy coat moving the skin over broad canine shoulders,

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wide paws pushing through the silt—stable on the mud,
holding him steady against the stream of the water. Nate's
cold sadness felt as real as the frigid water, warring with his
heated lupine instincts. He always felt the pull of it, a door left
open...

He could stay like this. Human motivation persisted a day

or two, but beyond that they lost all their power and the
imperatives of the wolf took charge. The human ennui would
fade away, the dragging effluent of yesterdays, the
oppression of threatening tomorrows. Instead of so often
caging the wolf within the man, he could submerge, drown
the man within the wolf. Just find some wooded place, park
the truck, and leave it all behind. After leaving his family it
seemed so much more possible, with so much less to leave
behind. Freedom, of a sort. Death, of a kind.

But there was always some thought or memory that

struggled through to hold him back, some slender strand of
human connection. His mother, who would despite any choice
he made, still be his mother. His deep desire for human love,
and kin, even when he did not have them in his life. Steven.
Steven? What was the man to him, an acquaintance of a less
than day who wasn't even planning on staying in town?
Would he go back with the city boy, trailing after him like a
bitch in heat? He hardly thought so. Even if a great part of
him wanted to.

But such thoughts drifted into the background in a mind

engineered to live in the moment and act according to the
memories of an entire race expressed in wordless tides more
powerful than those found on any riverbank.

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Wrenching himself out of the water, he trotted up along

the bank, seeking the denser trees on the edge of the town,
strangling islands of wood and forest that he could follow
most of the way back to his trailer with only the briefest
moments of exposure. Moving through the trees, he saw and
smelled and felt the world around him so completely, yet his
loping stride carried him forward with barely a thought. His
awareness slipped into long moments of perfect accord with
his nature, his purpose, his place.

If only there were others running at his side. The young

bitches to leads the hunt, so swift. The harried prey; the leap
and killing bite. The pack. He needed that. He needed it
because there could never really be a war between his
natures. It was so easy to forget except in moments such as
these. He was the man, but he was also the wolf, the beast.

He varied his path as much as possible in going between

the town and the trailer. Human thought and wolf caution
agreed on that precaution. Going around the far side of the
cornfields added a little time to the usual hour or so it took
him to get from town to the scrubby field out back of the gas
station. There was a sort of desultory pond that formed there
with the rain, baked down to little more than a stretch of
mud. A gray heron watched him pass with a beady eye, but
did not fly away. A few head of Angus cattle ambled out of his
way, prey instincts muted by domestication and disuse.

The wind was coming in from across the highway, thick

with fumes and dust, but carrying also two fresh, familiar
scents. So Nate wasn't surprised as he came round the front

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of the trailer to find his mother propped up on a deck chair
reading a glossy magazine.

He headed for the trailer door. "When did Travis get here?"
"Not too long after you left here yesterday," Mom said

without looking up. "I could hardly leave him here
unsupervised."

Odds were whatever the hell was going on she knew all

about it and had her own ideas how it should go. Inside,
Travis was sprawled on the sofa watching the TV with an
expression of fixed defiance. He looked up, opened his mouth
to speak, shut it again. Travis just sat up, setting his feet on
the threadbare carpet, waiting. Mom was right, eyeliner
looked ridiculous on him. But what could you tell a kid that
age, reality caught up with them quick enough anyway.

"You're not staying," Nate said as he grabbed a pair of

jeans from the pile of laundry next to the door and shoved
them on.

"Why not? You're an alpha. I can stay with you."
"Beating the crap out of someone doesn't make anyone an

alpha." Any more than fucking a woman makes you a father.
But he didn't say that just: "The pack do—and the pack,
didn't. And you," he said pointing an exasperated finger, "are
a pup; you have to stay with a pack."

"I'm not. I'm a wolf. I'm as big a dog as any."
Nate stepped up close and took a deep breath in through

his nose. "You're sixteen, and I'm sorry, you're not done yet.
And as big a dog as you are you're still a mouse-hunter.
You're not ready to hunt alone and I'm not taking you on."

"No, I'm..."

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"And you are arguing with me, which means you don't

accept me as your alpha. You are going back with your Aunt
Cooper. You're going back to your mother."

Let Travis find way to deal with that little catch-22; might

keep him quiet for a while. Mom appeared at the trailer door.

"I'm not taking him," she said. "You want him to go back,

you take him back."

Nate felt a sour twist in his gut. He said very quietly, "He's

a child of your pack. He's your problem."

She just shrugged. "He's left. Until he goes back or finds

somewhere else, he's roving and not my concern."

It took a deep breath and a long pause, but Nate kept his

voice calm. "He's a child."

"If he's big enough to rove, he's big enough to leave the

pack."

Dog logic, as implacable as it was irrational. "Whatever

you and the big dog think, he's a minor child under the law
and he cannot be staying here with me. I'll end up in jail and
the cops will be bringing him back. And I don't think ol' Dill
would be thrilled about that with all that he's got going on."

"So turn him out," Mom said in her best blank devil's-

advocate voice. "Your den, your right. You didn't hesitate to
do it to me. Meh, he got here all on his own so I figure he can
get back again. Or go roving on his own." And that was that.

"Yeah, I told you to head back. It didn't exactly work, did

it? Because you think this big bad roving wolf here couldn't be
left alone in a trailer for a day."

Of course Mom wasn't just saying what she really thought,

just what served her purpose. Working out what Mom really

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thought about anything was something Nate had given up on
a long time ago. Now he just had to learn how to stop arguing
with her. The more you said, the more she had to use against
you. But then, suddenly, her mood seemed to change—a
glimpse of sincerity through the rhetoric.

Mom sat herself down on the shabby sofa next to Travis.

"I'm your mother, Nate. It doesn't matter if you're in the
pack. It doesn't matter of you're a faggot, or gonna act all
human, or move to another state or paint yourself green and
live in a cabbage patch. I'll still be your mother and nothing's
gonna change that."

"Which means you'll sit around here telling me what I have

to do."

Mom reached for the remote and clicked on the TV. "Which

means I'll do what I think's best for you, regardless. You're all
grown up now. I can't make you do anything. And I was
grown up long before you were born so you sure as hell can't
make me do anything."

"And what's that, what's best for me?"
"I haven't decided yet." And with that she turned her full

attention to Oprah.

Travis stayed sitting on the sofa next to her, watching Nate

and chewing on his thumbnail. What the hell was he going to
do about that kid?

* * * *

Nate sat on a stool at the kitchen counter with his back to

the room. He worked on his laptop, keeping busy. He key-
worded and uploaded a batch of good photos to a bunch of

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micro-stock sites. The pictures of crops and livestock were
selling better than he expected, soon he'd have enough to
buy a better camera. Maybe one of the new Pentax point and
shoots anyway—not enough for a DSLR. The back of his mind
was still letting the situation seep in. Having an underage boy
staying at his trailer was a recipe for disaster and for the
moment it was probably just as well Mom was around.

Frankly, Travis was an uppity kid with a lot of ideas, most

of them a bit stupid and all of them pretty much designed to
piss off a cave-dog like Dill. Life with the pack was going to
go hard for him over the next few years and he would be
pushed to rove eventually. Skinny kid or no, he was growing
up alpha. None of the other packs would want to take him in
and the chances he'd get a girl or two in tow weren't all that
great. So he'd end up an alpha alone, which, as Nate well
knew, was an unhappy proposition.

Nate also knew that if he took Travis back himself, if he

went anywhere near his old home, Dill's lackeys would have
free rein to beat the crap out of him as a exile on pack lands.
It would be hard to drop the kid off anywhere close without
being spotted first. The men of the packed tended to rove in
and out all around the countryside.

So what was Mom's game in asking him to take Travis

back himself? Trying to get him killed? Trying, in her own
ineffable way, to say that Travis shouldn't go back there?

And neither should Nate.
But a bachelor group with a kid? That was doomed. Not

just as pack dynamics, but with the human law. Without a
bitch in the group, they wouldn't count as a pack and Dill

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would have free run to harry and hunt them down. It was a
mess, no matter how you looked at it. Nate had been lucky to
keep his head down so far. Either Dill hadn't bothered about
him or couldn't find him. But Travis was Dill's kid, he'd be
obliged to take control. And kids were easy to find, they had
to be in school, they were careless. In fact, Travis would
probably give himself away almost straight off by getting in
touch with his mother—who would give him up to Dill. Not
that they could leave Susie not knowing where her son was.
She was an omega bitch but she still loved the boy.

There was a sort of uneasy truce in the trailer as his

mother made a meal for them. Nate watched mutely. He had
become used to looking after himself, but in the pack men did
not prepare food. After a few minutes he tried half-heartedly
to help, but she brushed it off and it was easier to leave her
to it.

Travis watched on. He said nothing, but he obviously

struggled hard to keep that silence. No doubt the kid thought
that if he didn't draw too much attention or cause any trouble
he might somehow be able to stay. Nate looked up his bank
accounts online. He had a hard won cushion of just over a
thousand dollars. If he had to look after a kid like Travis it
would be gone pretty much straight away. Travis would need
to get to school, and have clothes more presentable that the
thin cast-offs he had on now. Nate couldn't believe he was
even considering it.

After dark it started to cool, the heat wave finally releasing

its grip. Nate pulled on a sweatshirt. "I'm going to work," he
said, even though it was way too early.

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Mom was back watching her precious television.
"What are you going to do?" Travis said nervously.
"I don't know, Travis. I'm going to have to talk to your

mother somehow. You're her kid. Right now, I'm going to
work. So you cool your heels and try and think of some way
to contact her without drawing too much attention."

There was some kind of tacit admission there which

seemed to make Travis relax a bit, even flickered a smile.
Nate felt tension ratcheting up inside him, but something
else, too. If he had to look after the kid, he'd look after the
kid. Somehow. In that moment his perspective changed from
a wolf alone to having someone else he had to watch over.
The wolf was happy about that, at least. We'll fight them as
the come, it seemed to say.

Penny from Louisville worked the afternoon and early

evening shift. She was a squat, sanguine women who chain
smoked menthol cigarettes and hardly ever said a word. She
looked up as Nate came in, round face betraying neither
interest nor surprise.

"I'll cover the rest of the shift, if you want," Nate said. "My

mother's visiting and I need a reason to get out of the
trailer."

At that she gave him a nod as she grabbed her purse and

left. Nate settled down behind the counter, propping his feet
up on the shelf under the till. So what would Susie think? She
was Travis's mother, a pretty but hard worn looking blond
who kept house for whatever wolf she was with. It seemed to
change every few months and Travis was dragged along

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behind. Nate didn't know her so well. Sometimes it seemed
there just wasn't that much of her to get to know.

There were a few customers to keep him busy, but they

thinned out as it got close to midnight. Steven appeared at
the door, pushing it open and peering in.

"Sorry," he said by way of greeting. "I just, you know...."
And Nate did. He knew. Seeing Steven made the cold core

of his body warm and open. His worries seemed less pressing
and the future more hopeful. As much as there was no good
reason for Steven to be there, Nate wanted him to be there.

But before Nate could say a word, Steven had to shuffle

out of the way of another women coming in. Bloody hell,
speak of the devil. It was Susie Nesbit, Travis's mother. He
knew her only as one of Dill's loyal welfare Moms, but she had
a different look to her now. She looked him straight in his
eyes as she walked up to the counter. The place was empty
apart Steven and the two of them.

"Susie, Travis is here—he's fine," Nate assured her.
Steven seemed to catch, quickly, that there was something

going on. He edged into the store, but headed down the back,
leaving them room to talk. God bless a man with a sense of
discretion.

"I knew he'd be fine with you." Susie cast a look back at

Steven who was wavering next to the display of chocolate
bars. "But Dill was just behind me. And if he finds me here
we're both screwed. I'm sorry. I didn't even see him until I
turned off the highway back there. We've got to get Travis
and get the hell out of here."

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"You could just take Travis and go back with him then.

He'll have no reason to do anything to you." Without making
a deliberate choice to do it, Nate knew he was testing her.

Susie shook her head. "I'm not going back, Nate," she

said. "After Travis left I thought about it a long time and I
realized he's right. Travis has got a right to try and be what
he is ... what he wants to be. I didn't get that, and he won't
ever get a chance with Dill. Or with me, like I am, around
Dill."

"Dill's his father, Susie..."
"Says who? He had me write 'not known' on that birth

certificate like I don't know who I'm sleeping with. If he wants
to say otherwise he can pay me sixteen years of support on
the boy and I'll take out a restraining order on his ass as well.
I'm Travis' mother and I want to do right by him."

And she looked at him with as much fear as bravado,

every line of her body calling to someone to take her side,
give her strength to follow through on what she wanted to do.
And Nate wanted to, he wanted to do that, and to be that.
He'd got past Dill before. Surely he could do it again?

Looking past her, he saw Steven was getting an earful and

catching the tone if not the full meaning. He was staying
back, still. Nate couldn't even think how much explaining this
would take or what story would cover for it. With a sickening
lurch he realized that with more wolves around the place the
secrets would inevitably push Steven away from him, even
out of his life altogether. Why the hell should that bother him
so much after meeting the guy less than two days ago? His

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scatter thoughts were blown away altogether by the sound of
a truck pulled up out front with a screech.

"Steven, you'll want to get out of here now," Nate said

called out. "I've got some family trouble here and with my
family that tends to end up with people in hospital."

"Or worse," Susie added quietly. She turned to Steven,

giving him and up and down then looked to Nate.

But even if he'd wanted to get into that with her, the

chance was interrupted by the arrival of the big dog himself.
Dill, a big man but balding and with a soft beer gut. His main
weapon was his sheer, indomitable belief in his own
importance which seemed to have survived their last meeting
intact. He kicked the door open hard enough that the
toughened glass cracked like a spider-web. In an instant the
whole place smelled of liquor and musk. Dill had obviously
been slow boiling on the whole long drive and he was about
to blow. Nate, caught more buy surprise, was knocked back a
step, his wolf cowering instinctively before a reigning alpha
coming for what was his.

What he thought was his. But Nate was wading against his

instincts which always took their time getting in behind his
thoughts—if they did at all.

"Susie, get in the truck," Dill said, but his eyes were on

Nate.

He'd beaten the man once before but then it had been him

propelled by anger at the alpha's brutal ways. All he had
behind him now was the people that could get hurt if this
went wrong. It was going to have to be enough.

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Susie clutched the edge of the counter, eyes pleading with

Nate.

"It's up to you, Susie," Nate said.
She backed away, getting behind Nate. "I'm not going,"

she said. "I'm taking my boy and leaving you, Dill. It's my
right."

"That's my boy, and you're my woman."
Susie just shook her head, pressed against the back wall.

"He's my boy, and you aren't gonna hurt him anymore. Or
me."

Dill strode forward and Nate knew his last chance to take

control was slipping by. He lowered his shoulder and barreled
right at the big man. It was like hitting a hanging side of beef.
Dill barely staggered back two steps, but knocked off balance
his back hit the glass door that has closed behind him. With a
crack the weakened safety glass collapsed into thousand of
tiny squares of glass and they fell back through it together.

Dill got him by the throat and, groping, Nate felt Dill's shirt

tear, but he couldn't get a grip. Fumbling, he managed to
shift Dill's grip enough to loosen his hold. Dill's hand fumbled
on his face. gouging at his eye. Nate bit down on the man's
thumb with all his strength.

Already enraged, Dill lost all control and shifted under him,

thumb shrinking and thickening, thick fur and bulky canine
body pushing down on Nate. Desperately, Nate squirmed to
look around to see who overlooked this rash change. Two of
Dill's followers lurked by his truck, big Tom and Samson. But
they both looked shocked to see Dill so blatantly flouting the
rules of secrecy.

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Nate was forced on his back and soon could do not more

than try to fend of Dill's broad clawed paws and yellowed
teeth. He kicked out desperately with his feet and got in one
solid kick. Scrambling back he saw the forecourt and the road
were empty. Susie was running from the station back toward
the trailer and Steven stood in the shattered doorway. There
was no mistaking, from his shocked expression, that he had
seen Dill change.

Dill was fully a wolf, hampered only by the vestiges of his

clothes which constricted him. Growling, he tore them free.

"Tom, get in that fucking shop and turn off the pump

lights," Nate shouted as he backed away.

There was no way he could beat Dill, or probably even get

out of this alive, unless he changed, too. But as he yanked up
his sweatshirt, Dill sprang, thrusting him back off his feet just
as his arms were tangled in his clothes. Nate squirmed,
kicking out blindly as he felt jaws skim over, tearing the skin
on his stomach. Twisting onto his knees, he threw the
sweatshirt away from him. His hand fell against the trash bin
and he tried to hurl it at Dill, but the heavy container just
toppled away from him.

Dill was big and squat as a wolf, and his jaws clamped

down on Nate's left calf, tearing deep into his flesh. With a
shout, Nate kicked down as hard as he could with his other
foot, but Dill just growled and shook his head, throwing his
body from side to side. Nate tore down his jeans and
managed to kicked them off, shaking Dill off at the same
time.

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His own blood flowed thickly down his leg as he hobbled

upright. He knew, sickly, that he had already lost the fight.
With no weapon near enough to reach he still had to change
to have a chance, but now he was wounded, wounds the
change would distort and extend; he was losing too much
blood.

But as Dill leapt for him, he thrust his body through the

transformation into a stronger body and a simpler mind—
praying the wolf would find a way to survive. Falling again, he
snapped, seeking any purchase. He managed to bite down on
something, the coarse fur and thick bone of a leg. He bore
down as hard as he could, but felt Dill's own jaws close on his
throat, crushing and closing, cutting off his air.

He dimly heard Steven's voice. "Which one is him, which

one is Nate?"

Nate pushed out with his limbs, but already the strength

was leeching from them. Fearing for Steven and Susie, he
writhed to get off his back and get some contact with the
ground. Sudden darkness suggested that Tom had finally
found the right switch to stop any passing motorist from
seeing the fight.

There were sounds of some kind of scuffle, men shouting

and a woman's scream muffled by the harsh rasping of his
own struggle for breath. Strength was fading fast.

Then suddenly blessed relief. The grip on his neck jarred

forward and gapped. Nate bucked, and clawed to get away.
He got his feet under him and squared to meet an attack.

But Dill lay sprawled on the ground and over him, Nate's

mother holding a heavy fire extinguished with both hands. Dill

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crab-walked away from her groggily, shaking his head. He
turned to Nate, then to his followers who dithered on whether
to jump in. If this was an alpha challenge they had no right
to.

Finally Dill crouched, changing back to human formed with

Nate's blood smearing his mouth. "It's an alpha fight, sister.
You got no part in this."

"My boy wasn't challenging you, Dill. This ain't no alpha

fight. It's your pack against his, and that means all comers
can deal themselves in."

"He's a rogue, Marg. It ain't a pack thing and if it was,

you're with me."

His mother swung the extinguisher back. "Susie went to

him, and he took her in. Her 'n' the boy's with Nate and that's
a pack: dog, bitch and pup. Her and the boy are with Nate,
and he's my boy, so I am, too. Get your thinking straight,
Dill, and do it quick."

And she stood there, her jaw clenched, stance resolute,

she readied to hit him again.

"What are you two doing?" Dill screamed back at Tom and

Sam. "You deal with this." Dill could never take it when he
didn't have control on things. His neck strained and his face
was red with outrage, his voice all but hysterical.

"I'm not hitting an old lady," Tom said, shifting his feet.

"And Susie can go if she wants. Bitches can go, if they want.
It's always been like that. Bitches can go unless the head
bitch stops them—we ain't laying hands on a woman."

Dill got on his feet, naked and bleeding from his arm. "The

boy's mine. I got a claim on the boy and I'm taking him back

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with us. Dogs look after dogs, and bitches after bitches—so
the boy's mine."

Nate struggled to force the change back, but pain and

weakness wouldn't let him. He hobbled forward still as the
wolf, his mind flaring with instincts to defend this place, his
people. It was hard to think straight, human thoughts
jammed hodge-podge into a canine brain. He didn't know if
he should risk changing back; the strain might knock him out
cold.

Susie came up behind Nate's Mom with Travis by her side,

and with shock Nate saw Steven was also there, holding in his
hands the fire axe from behind the counter. Steven's fingers
were curled tight-white around the haft, but he was standing
firm.

"He's not the Daddy of Travis," Susie said, speaking up

with a trembling voice. "I got Travis from one of the men in
town. His daddy wasn't even one of us." Nate was pretty sure
she was lying, but she was fierce with it. Susie had a strong
grip on her son's arm, holding him back by her side. The boy
was dithering between sheltering by her side and standing up
front like a grown dog. There was a spell of silence, lines
drawn and nobody quite fixed to do anything about it.

There was nothing for it. He had to be man-formed to

make this work. Nate got a grip on his change, pushing
through to human form. He felt nauseous weakness, barely
getting up on his one good leg with a hand to his throat,
which was wet with blood. He was amazed not to find it torn
right open. He had to hop, waiver and almost fall to get
between Dill and his mother.

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Dill looked back to his two followers, who looked less than

fierce faced with an opposition made mostly of women and a
kid. Finally Dill stood and huffed, pushing his shoulders back.

"You lot want to get behind this half-blood weakling. Then

you pay the price. I want them dead," he said to Tom and
Sam, "The lot of them, dead. If they're a pack, then war is
lawful, full war—all of us against them."

Samson took one step forward, but Tom just shook his

head.

"It's an old lady, a bitch and a pup, I'm not having a part

of that," he said. And then with a nod to Steven, he added.
"And that one's a normal, Dill. Ya did all this in front of a
normal and that the first law broken, the big law. We cause a
fuss and get the packs looking in, that's all they'll care
about."

"Fuck the packs. They all die," Dill said in a scary quiet

voice. "And nobody ever needs to know. I'll see you right by
it. The first one of you to kill one of them, I'll name my
second and my chosen heir."

Nate stood, arms spread out, knowing he couldn't protect

all of them from three grown wolves. Flicking his gaze back,
he saw Steven, face pallid with shock, take a step forward to
be almost beside him.

But Tom just shook his head; he stepped out to the side.

Nate watched him, ready to fight but Big Tom just didn't have
that look to him. He came around slowly to Nate's side, the
side from Steven wasn't on, and stood, just behind him,
facing Dill and Samson.

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Nate coughed, trying to hoarsely force speech out. "It's

between us, Dill. Only us. I don't want neither of you two
going against anyone else but me—making any fight of this
except with me."

"But it's not just you anymore, son," his mother said

calmly. "You got a kid to look after now. You got a pack. My
brother wants to cause you trouble, he's got to declare war all
proper and justify it to all. Give his reason and call his pack to
follow him in his cause. You think they'll do it, Dill? You
already gone and lost four of us."

Dill glared at each of them in turn, but took one step back.

"Who needs you?" he growled. "Who wants you sluts and
faggots. Get in the truck, Sam. Get in the fucking truck."

And within a few moments it was all suddenly over. The

truck rumbled off towards the highway leaving them standing
together on the dark forecourt.

* * * *

It was his mother who calmly took charge in the

aftermath, sending Susie, Travis and Tom to hole up in the
trailer. Nate slumped to the ground and she told Steven to
get his clothes back on as she called 911. "You go with Nate,"
she said to Steven, blandly. "You stick with him and just
agree with whatever he tells them, right. First law, there
weren't no wolves here tonight."

Nate hung grimly to awareness. "Three men," Nate rasped.

"Jus as you saw, but we didn't know them and they tried to
bother Susie and to rob the place. No wolves, right."

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Steven was white-faced and clammy. Then he dropped the

axe down next to the door, wrapping his hands over the
lacerations on Nate's leg. Nate felt a surge of pride seeing
that even with all this craziness thrown at him Steven was
holding his own, showing true mettle.

Steven met Nate's eyes. "I guess one of them must have

had a big dog of some sort within him," Steven said.
"Because we need a story the paramedics are going to buy."

Nate's fingers were cold and weak. He fumbled, trying to

get his clothes back on and Steven had to help him with it. It
was barely done before the sheriff turned up in advance of
the ambulance. The cop obviously didn't like the look of him
and Nate found it was getting hard to sit up, or even get his
eyes properly focused. His mother was making all the
explanations and they decided to get him in the back of the
Sheriff's car and head to the hospital in Louisville rather than
wait for the ambulance to arrive.

"I'll take care of this lot," his mother muttered to him.

"You take your man here along and get him sorted out."

Nate could barely nod. He knew he had to make sure

Steven was going to do all right with what he'd learned—and
that he'd keep it to himself. Steven held onto him, in the cold
back seat as they drove along the dark road.

"You all right back there?" the deputy called.
"I'm fine," Nate rasped. But he felt cold, and although

Steven had a towel squeezed tight around his leg, he could
see the white cloth almost totally stained red. He experienced
a deep, sinking feeling of failure. When it counted the most
he hadn't been able to defeat Dill. And now he had more than

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Travis to worry about: Susie, his mother and Big Tom. What
could he do for them with a tiny rented trailer and a minimum
wage job as his only assets?

"He all right?" the deputy said again.
"Just drive," Steven replied tersely.

* * * *

They didn't have any time alone. Once the hype started to

wear off he just felt strung out and cold, so cold. Steven
stayed by his side, his hand was wrapped around the bar at
the side of the gurney like he wanted to be holding Nate's
hand, but didn't want to be seen doing it.

The Louisville hospital wasn't that big. They had an

emergency room though, lit up brightly with a resident and a
couple of nurses on call. They clustered around his torn leg,
muttering. First there were a series of injections that hurt
almost as much as getting bit, then a mosaic of stitches and a
tight bandage over the top.

About a minute after the shots Nate started to feel a little

like he was floating, peaceful—kinda nice. He could hear
Steven telling a somewhat vague story about three guys
trying to rob the gas station with a big Alsatian type dog. But
it was more like he was listening to something on the radio
than a conversation that had much to do with him.

By the time they were done with him, he had no idea what

time it was, and not much of any idea where he was. He
could hear himself saying: "I want to go home. I want to go
home."

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"His mother is staying with him," Steven was explaining.

"And I can stay with him, too. So if it's safe for him to be
discharged he wouldn't be left on his own."

"Well, all right then," the nurse said. "The ambulance can

drop him off. You make sure his mother gets these meds and
bring him back in two days so we can have a good look at
how he's healing up. The Sheriff will probably want to talk to
him again, too."

Nate tried foggily to help as they levered him into a

wheelchair.

"Nate?" Steven was crouched down beside him. "Nate, I've

called your Mom and told her you're going to stay with me
tonight. It's a little crowded in that trailer already and you
look all out. We can sort everything out in the morning."

"Okay," Nate mumbled.
They wheeled him out and straight into the back of the

ambulance. Nate clung to awareness through the rumbling
journey, and then being rolled out and into the elevator,
along to Steven's apartment. Gary answered the door with
Perrin close behind and there was a babble between them,
Steven and the paramedic that Nate didn't even try to follow.

They levered him out and into the king sized bed. The

feeling of the inner-sprung mattress against his back was a
relief. There was something at the back of his mind that said
he couldn't sleep yet, but he didn't pay it much heed. He was
foggy and unfocussed, but realized Steven was leaving the
room.

"Steven," he reached out and missed Steven by about a

foot. "Stay."

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He knew he had to talk to Steven, about ... he had to talk

to Steven. He wanted nothing but to be alone with the man.

With a bit more muttering he finally found the lights

dimmed and they were alone together.

"Steven, I..." Nate struggled as much with trying to work

out what he was meant to be saying as getting his dry mouth
and clumsy tongue to cooperate. He had so much to explain,
not about the wolf life and his family—but about what he had
felt when Steven stood with his pack. His new pack.

The mattress sagged. Steven settled a heavy duvet over

him, cool and clean and then settled in gingerly beside him.

"Steven, I'm..."
"Shh. We can talk in the morning. Unless you've got some

kind of super shape-shifter healing power?"

"I wish."
And the last thing he remembered was Steven laughing

and pulling the cover up his chest before sleep claimed him.

* * * *

Nate drifted up from sleep very slowly and with a feeling of

perfect contentment. He could barely feel his body at all, lying
on his back. Sunlight broke though his closed eyelids. There
were slight sounds coming from outside the room, clicks of
crockery and shuffling as people moved around. His sense of
smell seemed confused, like there was a sweet smell in the
air that faded as he woke. His cognitive functions slowly came
online. The smell was Steven, who must have slept beside
him in the bed through the night, but it seemed different
somehow.

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He remembered Steven, standing ready to fight despite

everything, fire ax in hand. Steven who hadn't demanded
explanations, who hadn't hesitated to stand with him and
follow his lead. Not an alpha, like Mom. He smiled,
remembering how she'd hit Dill. Ancient rules stated that dog
might fight dog and bitch fight bitch—but never did one fight
the other. Well, Mom wasn't much for rules. Having her in the
pack was going to make for interesting times. But Steven
hadn't shirked his role, hadn't fussed and had played along.
He'd been there by Nate's side.

The weight of his new responsibilities slowly weighed down

on his emerging consciousness. He couldn't just be lying here.
He had a pack now. Susie and Travis, at least, Mom, maybe
Tom, and, after a fashion, Steven.

But Steven wasn't even planning to stay in Gnoxville, they

had nowhere to live and nowhere near enough money to get
by for very long. With growing concern, Nate opened his
eyes. He flexed his fingers, his arms moved but he felt the
ache of bruising across his stomach, and when he swallowed
his throat felt tender.

He peeled back the duvet with his arm, not even daring to

lift his neck. He felt the cool air on his body. Steven must
have undressed him, but he didn't remember it. His right leg
was bound up tight and when he tried to move it, there was a
feeling inside his calf that made him feel queasy.

But there was nothing for it. He could see a dark blue robe

hanging over the top of the open wardrobe door. With that
goal in mind, he levered his injured leg off the bed, not daring

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to bend the knee. Then he swung out his other leg; he put
one foot flat to the floor and got upright.

He was putting the robe on as Steven opened the door. He

was kind of expecting an argument about how he ought to
still be in bed. But instead, Steven pulled the robe up over his
shoulders and then reached around him to pull it closed and
tie the belt. Standing close behind him Steven rested his arms
just very gently against Nate's stomach.

"So you're some kind of werewolf," Steven said.
"The only kind there is. Are you okay with that?" Damn,

but it was peculiar to just say it like that.

"Everyone's got their little quirks."
"Steven..."
"It's all right, Nate. And yes, I do think you should stay in

bed. But I've got a living room full of werewolves and queers.
And your mother's just declared that Gary and Perrin are in
the pack, too. And last I saw Tom was showing them just how
the whole thing works. So I think it would be easier all around
if we could all sit down and sort a few things out."

And it was indeed a bit crowded in the room. Nate leaned

heavily on Steven, not daring to put any weight on his torn up
leg. Gary, Perrin and Mom were on the sofa against the wall.
Tom, his muscular back to Nate, was standing naked in front
of them.

"If'n either parent is wolf, the kid is," he was explaining.

No doubt he'd just been giving them the most undeniably
proof there was that werewolves exist in this world.

"Tom, put your clothes on," Nate said. "Show and tell is

over." They made a space for him and gathered around. "We

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have some plans to make."

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4.
Nate folded his arms, watching the workmen finish

installing the new commercial coffee and cappuccino maker in
the gas station. With the extension, there was now room for
three aisles packed with every kind of convenience food, and
the truckers would love the new coffee machine. He couldn't
begin to count all the times he'd been asked for it. He had a
spreadsheet set up that calculated the profitability of every
square inch of shelf area and it was surprisingly engaging
trying to get the right products in the right place for top
profit. It was kind of like working out where to hunt for the
best kill for the pack. And he was good enough at it that the
place was running a small profit even with the expense of the
new equipment.

Overall, he was feeling pretty good about it. On paper he

was a part owner, although he'd only put up a thousand while
Perrin, Gary and Steven had put up more than that and had
the kind of credit rating and standing to get the loan for a
mortgage. His Mom had chipped in a good amount, too. It
was amazing what she'd managed to salt away. Between
them they'd put a business plan together and bought up both
the station and the newsagent. Magazines were more Perrin's
speed, although it was taking him a little while to get a
handle on what folks in these parts preferred to read.

"How's that, Boss?" one of the men said.
"Could you push it back against the wall?"
"No problem."

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Jessy was behind the till. "When I went out to help that old

lady with the pump I thought I saw someone in the trailer,"
she said.

"There shouldn't be anyone out there."
It was always in the back of his mind that Dill would be up

to something. He had a big clan, a dozen dogs and a score of
bitches, and he wasn't the sort to let things go. The thought
of coming up against Dill or one of his followers didn't bother
him too much—he'd deal with that when it happened. But
what if they went against Travis at school, or Steven? Gary
and Perrin were rarely apart and had some idea of what they
were up against, but a group of wolves would still be too
much for them.

With two females in the group, Dill ought to treat them like

a pack, needed to declare if there was a conflict and fight it in
the open. But Dill had been getting pretty crazy of late, even
more after Nate left according to Travis and Susie. So there
really was no telling.

The worry sat at the back of his mind, always casting a

shadow over things, spoiling the small pleasure of
establishing his own pack, even if it was one were the alpha
bitch was his mother. Oh, a strange enough pack even
without that with three humans in it, but if the wolf didn't
care, he wasn't going to second guess it.

"You hold the fort here, eh?" he asked, and Jenny nodded

absently, preoccupied with giving the younger workman the
eye.

Nate shook his head and left her to it. He went around

back. The muscles in his right leg still felt a bit tight, but he'd

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had the stitches out and everything had pretty much come
right. It still gave him some pain in the change, but less each
time. In fact he was feeling pretty damn good in himself,
except for one thing.

The old trailer ought to be empty now that they'd moved

everyone into a second apartment down by the river. It was
still pretty crowded at that, with Mom, Tom, Susie and Travis
on one apartment, and him, Steven, Gary and Perrin in the
other. And with everyone back and forth all the time it was a
wonder there was any romance at all going on, and very little
intimacy. On the whole, it was getting pretty frustrating,
especially as Steven wasn't the type to be up for doing it in
the great outdoors. He seemed to think there was a Hoosier
farmer or a rampaging werewolf hiding behind every tree.

Still, there was definitely something going on with Susie

and Tom, for all that Mom seemed to be making it difficult.
Nate didn't see the problem, Tom was a good guy and it
would be good to have a wolf pair in the pack.

Mom would just shrug at that. "That girl needs to be

herself, and mother for a while. So as if she chooses Tom, it's
for him and not just grabbing the nearest dog to take over
her life for her." And Nate didn't have much to say beyond
that. The alpha female looked after the others. If he wanted it
done different he'd have to get Mom to change her mind, and
good luck with that. Nate forced his mind back to the present.
The last thing he needed was to be distracted when Dill finally
turned up like the proverbial bad penny.

The trailer door was shut but there were fresh finger

marks on the door near the lock. Nate took a deep careful

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breath. A myriad of scents washed over his senses. The
tension left him.

Steven. Now what the hell was he up to?
Nate opened the door and stepped inside. There was a

bottle of beer on the counter, and Steven waited for him on
the bed. There was a muted, wicked look in Steven's eyes. Ah
yes, there were hidden depths to Steven that he looked
forward to discovering, at their leisure.

"Well, hello stranger," Steven said. "Can I interest you in a

beer and maybe coming over here and getting in this bed?"

"Doesn't look like there's much room in there," Nate said,

ignoring the beer.

"Oh, I think we'll manage."
"Do you do this often, Steven? Give a passing stranger a

drink and proposition them?"

"With the drop in salary I've just taken, they only get a

beer if'n I really like them."

Nate walked over slowly. Steven was obviously naked

under the shabby blanket. He sat propped up against the
pillows, watching. Nate had given a lot of thought to
everything Steven, not to mention Perrin and Gary, has left
behind. Small town business owner might be a big leap up for
Nate, but it was likely a step down for them, in many ways.

"Do you think you're ever going to regret hooking up with

me, Steven?" he asked. "We'd barely met and you're getting
a lot of trouble as part of the bargain."

"Yeah, and your Mom told me you were actually pretty

insecure under all this boss wolf business. But then she says
most alphas are, and most men."

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"I don't know what bothers me more, that you're having

cozy little chats with my Mom or that you're bringing it up
after you're already naked."

"Why don't you give me something else to think about,

then?"

Nate pulled off his clothes, consciously not hurrying—he

didn't want to look as desperate as he felt. He stooped over
Steven, feeling his lover's body, lithe and ready beneath him,
just waiting for him—all for him. And he could smell it, the
strong, warm, sweet scent of a normal, healthy man—and the
wolf within him wanted nothing more. It was the smell of his
man, his partner, his pack.

Pack?
Yes, the wolf said patiently. Pack.
Pack. His senses concurred. Pack wasn't about being a

wolf, it was about be pack; it was about being family and
being together. It was about trust and taking on any fight, as
it came. It was the smell of arousal, love and trust. It was all
he'd ever need and nobody would ever take it away from him.

Fight them as the come, the wolf agreed.

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Home Fires
By BA Tortuga
Houston crawled under the fence, whimpering as the wood

caught on his skin, tore his stolen shirt. Only a few more
yards. He'd made it across country. He'd walked, he'd ridden.

He'd run.
Three days. Seven hundred miles. Dirt. Thorns.
Pain.
Still, Houston was free and he...
Houston lifted his head, sniffed the air.
Jackson.
Oh, sweet Jesus. Please.
He sniffed again, his head going back so he could really

scent the air. Yes. Jackson. Faint, but there. Somewhere in
this great mass of land, Houston knew he would find Jackson.
Tonight.

He'd stolen the tattered scrubs he was wearing and they

hung from him like clown's clothes. Would Jackson know him
still? Over a year and a half since they'd fought and growled
and gone their separate ways. So long since...

Fuck.
He wasn't here to stay.
He just couldn't figure out where else to go.
The creosote and rocks pulled at those stupid clothes,

making him snarl, making him stumble. When the lights
finally came into view, he was just ready to give up and howl
his fury to the night.

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His knees hit the dirt, heart slamming in his chest, sending

the blood moving through his body like fire.

No. No, he wasn't fucking giving up here.
Not here.
Not yet.
Houston stumbled to his feet, growling low as he lurched

toward the lights.

The house wasn't at all what he would have expected. It

was a simple adobe, old and shabby, with one big light
illuminating a yard of prickly pear. Damn. Someone was
grumpy these days, if that yard was anything to go by.

He headed straight to the door—Jackson had to have

scented him. Had to. And if the fucker killed him straight
away? Hell, he wouldn't have died in a cage.

The door opened just as he got to it to knock, the barrel of

a shotgun poking out. "Whatever you're selling, I ain't
buying."

"I don't have a dime to my name, Jackson, and I'm dead

on my fucking feet. Either shoot my sorry ass or let me in."

"Jesus. I fucking thought someone was baiting me with

your scent." The gun went away and Jackson came out and
put an arm around him, leading him in.

Oh.
Oh, fuck him. That scent washed over him in a rush and

the low keening sound just poured out of him.

"I got you, man. Whatever it is, I got you." He could

almost feel the confusion vibrating through him from Jackson,
but bless him, the man didn't ask. Just took him to the couch
and eased him down. "Water?"

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"Please." Houston blinked down on his hands, the bruises

and dirt making them look almost like he remembered them—
tanned and healthy instead of dead pale.

"Sit a minute." It was like he'd just left yesterday, and on

friendly terms, the way Jackson went and snagged a bottle of
water, coming back to press it into his hands.

He didn't have any words. None.
Houston just sat there and stared at Jackson, drinking the

man in.

"You need anything else?" Jackson asked, squatting down

and patting his leg.

"I." He could feel his eyes rolling a bit. "Jackson."
"Shhh." Warm brown eyes were right there for him to

stare into when he could see again. Solid as a rock, that
Jackson. "You need to grab a shower and rest, man."

"Yeah." Yeah, he did. If he could just sit a few more

seconds. Breathe.

"Take your time." Another pat and Jackson stood up, sort

of toodling around, getting towels and shit, quiet as a mouse.

It was fucking weird.
Which, given the last year of his life was spent in a cage

with three other lycs like him? Was pretty fucking impressive.

Finally Jackson wandered back over, handing him a

sandwich. "Here, man. Eat something."

His stomach snarled, the hunger sudden and sharp. His

mouth watered, teeth bared at the scent of meat and cheese.

"That's it, man, you look half starved. Have this and I'll get

you some juice. Go slow, though. No puking."

He pounced, words lost in the rush of hunger. Food.

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Food.
Good food.
He wasn't a bit sick, either. Not one bit. He could probably

eat five more. Jackson just grinned and went to get him
another, along with some bright, tart juice.

His tongue was lolling; he knew it. He couldn't stop it. He

hadn't been able to in months. Not since...

Oh.
Juice.
Juice.
"There you go. Tastes good, huh? You've been doing some

kind of thirsty work." So fucking nice. Concerned.

He gave Jackson a laugh that was more bitter bark than

anything. "Running'll do that."

"You're gonna tell me all about it. But you're gonna bathe

and get some rest first." Pulling him up once he'd finished his
juice, Jackson took him to the bathroom, where those almost
threadbare towels lay on the sink. "Get a shower. I'll fold out
the couch."

"'kay." One night's sleep and then he could go again. He

just needed a night and a pair of jeans and maybe some
shoes. He nodded to Jackson, padding over to the shower and
tearing the stolen scrubs away.

The water started flowing and he groaned, knees hitting

ceramic as the filth slid from him. He would have cried out
with it, if he hadn't been asleep before his joints stopped
throbbing.

* * * *

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Man, Jackson didn't know what had happened to Houston,

but between the skin and bones look and the medicinal smell,
well ... It had to suck. Shit, it had to suck so bad that he
hadn't even had the heart to yell at the man.

He always thought he'd want to if Houston showed back up

on his doorstep. But then, his doorstep used to be just
outside of Albuquerque, not down in the desert outside of
Tularosa. It was a whole new fucking world these days, so
maybe he ought to give Houston the benefit of the doubt.

The man was flat on his back, snoring and whining, his

hands opening and closing when Jackson walked in to check
on him. Hell, the guy would have to eat every few hours to
get his strength back, so maybe it was time to offer him a
steak.

He moved closer and Houston snarled, going from dead-

asleep to painfully awake in a single breath, green eyes huge
and scared.

Scared?
What the fuck?
"Hey. You want something rare and juicy, man?" He spoke

calmly, easily, just soothing Houston the best he could.

"Jackson." Houston panted, staring at him, nostrils flaring.

"I wasn't. I didn't know if you were real."

"Right here." Grinning, he held down a hand. "Come and

let me feed you."

Houston's hands were torn up, two nails missing. "You

smell good."

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"Yeah?" Still smiling, Jackson pulled up, getting Houston to

his feet, unsteady as he was. "Well, good. I'd hate to think I
stank."

"I do." Houston looked out the window a little, nostrils

flaring. "I. Do you really have food?"

"I have steak and eggs ready to go. I just wanted to make

sure you were hungry." Oh, baby, what happened to you? He
wanted to ask, but Houston wasn't near ready.

Houston nodded, stepped close and just rested that poor

shorn head on his shoulder. Jackson could remember that
dark brown hair just thick, streaming down over that broad
back. Now it was just ... gone.

One hand came up of its own volition, stroking over the

stubbly skin, soothing them both. "You need to use the head?
I'll get the steaks in the broiler. One minute on each side,
yeah?"

He got a nod, a low sound that broke his heart, then

Houston stepped away, the soft sweats he'd let the man
borrow hanging from pointed hips.

Grabbing Houston's arms, he looked into the man's eyes

and held them. "You can stay as long as you need to, baby.
You know that, right?"

"They'll find me." One hand cupped his cheek. "I just had

to come."

No matter what the world said, they all still mated for life,

didn't they?

Who? The word trembled on his lips, but Jackson held it in,

shaking his head instead. "Whoever it is will have to wait for
me to get done with you. Now, go pee. I'll cook."'

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Houston nodded, almost grinning at him, tongue sliding on

his chin so quickly he almost missed it.

That had him laughing, swatting Houston's butt. But

gently, because there wasn't an ounce of spare flesh there.
Then he headed off to the kitchen to start the steaks, his own
mouth watering at the smell of good, fresh meat.

It didn't take long before Houston came padding in,

smelling of soap and clean water and pure hunger. "Smells
good."

"Yeah, it does." He'd been up half the night, checking on

Houston from the doorway. He needed his energy.
"Scrambled or fried on the eggs?"

"What?" The honest look of confusion made him want to

growl.

"Eggs, baby. How do you want them? You used to like

scrambled and runny." Someone was gonna die for that look.

"Did I? I can eat them any way." Houston stepped closer

to the stove, licking his lips, staring at the meat. "Real meat.
It's so pretty."

"How long has it been?" That was a good place to start,

right? The eggs went into the pan, the steaks came out of the
broiler, and he slid one on a plate, pushing it over.

"Over a year since they took me. I broke out four days

ago? Five?"

The questions rose up again, but the haunted look in

Houston's eyes had him biting them back again. "Eat man. No
one's got you now but me."

"Thank you." Houston pounced the steak, acting as lost in

it as he'd ever seen the man. It just didn't add up—this

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desperate, near-feral man that he remembered as a strong,
sly go-getter that was heading to the big city to make money,
to make a name away from the desert. Watching the man eat
like that, like a starving beast, made him hurt deep down.
Lord knew, he'd always said that the city thing would end
badly.

The plate was licked clean, every speck of food gone,

Houston already starting to droop again, looking a little green
around the gills.

"Maybe the eggs should wait until you lie down some

more, baby." The 'baby' had popped right back up like
Houston had never curled his lip over it while leaving.

"I ... Fuck, I'm tired." Houston shivered, panting a little.
"There you go. You'll have a nap. I'll work some. You can

have more food when you get up. Ain't no hurry."

"I should go before they find me. I took the homing device

out and left it outside Yuma."

"The homing ... okay, baby. I have to know what you got

into." Goddamn, but something evil had gotten a hold of his
Houston. He needed to know, just in case it did show up on
his doorstep.

Houston lifted one arm, the ribs there visible and covered

in what looked like a fucking barcode, topped with a gash,
something obviously torn out of Houston's body. Jesus
fucking Christ. Look at that. "They call it the LCP."

"The LCP." What the fuck was that? The Light-shorts

Cancer Patrol? The Lofty Cocksucker's Party?

"Lycan Control and Prevention."

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Control and prevention? What the fuck? "Like in Prevention

magazine? Or like pest control. What the fuck?" Goddamn, it
made no sense.

"Yeah. Prevention fucking magazine. That's it. I was

running with a pack on the fucking sand and a bunch of
soldiers took us, popped us in cages and started asking if our
motherfucking cholesterol was high!"

"Oh, well. At least you know you have a healthy heart. Did

they stick a finger up your ass to check your prostate, too?"
The man had to be crazy. That was the only explanation. The
government didn't believe in werewolves.

Houston snarled, teeth bared, and the man blind tackled

him and took them to the floor, his head whacking on the tile
hard enough that he saw stars. The growl in his ear was pure
animal, the fury dripping in the sound. "I pray you never
fucking know what they did to me."

The urge to let the alpha out and take Houston down

almost overtook him, but he checked it. Jackson figured
Houston needed this, needed whatever tiny shred of control
he could grab. Needed to prove he was still a big fucking dog.
"Okay, baby. Just calm down, yeah?"

"Yeah." Houston started to change—which so fucking didn't

work since the full moon wasn't for another week, at least,
then stopped. "Thanks for the steak."

Then Houston just pushed up and off, heading for the

door.

Fuck, talk about running hot and cold.
Oh, Hell no. That was his very next thought before he

stopped thinking and leaped, taking Houston right down

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under him and twisting them until he could get to that long,
pale throat. "No."

Houston didn't have a fucking chance—he never had, even

at his prime, and fuck knew Houston was a thousand miles
from that.

His teeth sank deep for half a second before Jackson pulled

back. "You're not leaving, baby. You're in no shape. You're
going back to bed."

"Jackson." He'd seen that fucking look so many times it

was branded in his head—that look that was more thought
than instinct, that confusion that only went away when
Houston was sleeping or fucking. Goddamn the man's mother
for refusing to raise her cubs knowing what they were.

He growled, appealing to the instinct instead of the

intellect. "Get your ass up and go to bed. I'll keep watch."'

Houston growled back, eyes rolling a bit, but the man

moved, heading for the sofa, exhaustion written in the lines
of the lean body.

There. That was better. He watched Houston settle in, then

covered the man with the quilt. "I'll take care of you, man,"
he said as those eyelids drooped.

And while Houston slept, he'd do a little research on the

LCP. Just because.

* * * *

Men. Men with guns and masks and fucking tear gas. They

were at the window, ripping away the mosquito netting, the
sound of waves crashing on the beach almost drowning them
out. Bright lights flared to life, leaving all of them dazed and

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blinking. Then the guns started popping, pop-pop-popping,
smoke bombs dropping in on them, abrading their senses
even as rough rifle stocks smashed their heads in. Then
everything went dark. They were taken...

He woke with a start, eyes rolling. They landed on an old

painting of some mountains in the middle of fucking nowhere
that Jackson had carried around for twenty years.
Sentimental bastard.

The urge to go over and tear it from the wall, bash it into

thousands of pieces was so huge it hurt.

Burned.
If he did it, then no one else could take it from Jackson

and use it.

Fuck, he needed to get the Hell out of there.
Like he'd conjured the man up out of thin air, Jackson

came padding over, sitting on the edge of the saggy
mattress. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you okay?" So fucking fine. Jackson had

improved with age, grown stronger. The man was all heavy
muscle and warm eyes and long, long black hair.

"I'm good. Was just working on the workroom a little.

Cleaning." Jacks winked at him, reaching out to put a hand on
his chest. "You're racing, man."

"Always running." Busy, busy—running with the pack,

working at the bank, the scent of people everywhere.

"Well, here you can just sit a bit, okay?" Leaning down,

Jackson pressed their foreheads together. "Rest."

Those eyes were the darkest brown he'd ever seen, the

rim around the irises a deep gray. Fuck, he'd missed them.

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Jackson grinned, then kissed him lightly. "I'm glad you

came here, baby."

Where else would he go? No matter how they fought and

scrapped, Jackson was home. "There wasn't anywhere else I
wanted to be."

"Then you made the right choice. So did I, letting you in. I

almost shot you." That was said with a laugh, too, so he knew
better. Knew Jackson would never hurt him like that.

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." He

took a deep breath, pulling the good scents of Jackson in.

"Uh-huh. And steaks. Almost cooked. For us, anyway."

They both grinned at that one, the fact they used to argue
about how long to cook the damned meat hanging right
there.

"I missed your face." He shouldn't have left. He should

have stayed with Jackson.

"Yeah?" Scooting right down, Jacks wrapped around him,

sort of cuddling right in. Just like that. "I missed you, too.
Sort of wandered until I found here. Away."

Oh. Oh, yes. It was more than he could do, not to hum

and moan, wallow into those muscles.

"I thought I'd never find it."
"I ... well, I wanted to be out where no one else came. Just

the coyotes and lizards." Jackson shrugged, nuzzling at him.
"I needed the solitude."

Yeah, and he'd needed the crush of people everywhere

just to shut that voice in him that kept howling for his mate.

He guessed they all took what they fucking needed.

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"I don't want to push, baby, but sometime soon you're

gonna have to tell me who had you. What we need to do to
prepare if they do come." Jacks was always the practical one.

"Soldiers." He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to growl.

"Soldiers and doctors. They took ten of us. There were two
others left when I escaped."

Two bitches, one left mindless and broken, the other

paralyzed. He'd never forget the look in her eyes as he killed
two guards and hit the window.

"Jesus, baby. You weren't shitting me? What the fuck?"

Hugging him tight, Jackson breathed air into his space, the
scent calming him again.

"They did tests. Made us change without the moon." He'd

been cut and beaten, starved and driven nearly out of his
mind. "They want to make soldiers that can change at will,
eventually. They want to breed the women."

The shakes took him again, the wolf snarling and forcing

itself to the surface again and he fought it back.

"Shhh. Shh, baby. It's not time yet. You're all messed up."

It wasn't an accusation. Just soothing words, spoken against
his skin.

"I know. They inked me, made me theirs. Shaved me."

He'd howled for days after that.

Days.
"No. Never theirs. Mine. My mate, baby. No matter what."

One hand stroked down his side where the barcode lay on his
skin like a mark of ownership. "When you get strong enough
we'll cut it, scar it ... No one will ever see it and know what it
is."

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"Jacks." Oh, fuck. Something deep inside him cracked, and

he whined with it.

"That's it, baby. Just let it out. God knows we don't

internalize for shit..." That hard body covered his, just
pressing down, making it easy for him to be less than alpha,
just for a bit.

"They fucking caged me..." His howl bubbled up out of

him, raw and rough.

Houston ranted. He raved. He struggled. Jackson let him

rage, let him do what he needed, holding him when it got too
much and he lashed out. Keeping him from hurting either of
them.

When the storm passed, he was lathered and panting,

eyes rolling in his head like dice. His scent, though, was him
and Jacks, the foreign chemicals worked out of his skin.

When he slumped down under Jackson, the man rolled off

him and picked him up, hauling him easily to the shower.
"There we go, man. Let's get us all clean. Get it all gone."

He nodded, refusing to look at himself in the mirror. "Hot

water."

"Very. Soap. Us all slick." Grinning, Jackson stripped off

and started the water up.

"Slick." He stared at Jackson, watching the muscles move

under the deeply tanned skin. He remembered the first time
he'd seen Jacks bare. He'd chased the big asshole for months,
panting like a puppy.

It had been work, Jackson really doing that whole lone

wolf thing. Man, when they'd finally gotten naked, it had been
explosive.

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He'd been cocksure, and so randy that he hadn't been able

to hold back; he'd pounced and rubbed off on one strong
thigh. It would have been embarrassing, if Jackson hadn't
looked so fucking happy.

The man had stroked his hair then, kissing his neck and

cheeks, telling him he was beautiful and hot and amazing.

Kinda like Jacks was doing right now, pulling him under the

shower.

Back then it hadn't been a lie.
Still, he needed the comfort of that touch, of his mate's

hands. The water cleansed the sweat away, the soap smelling
like pine and lemons. But it was Jackson's scent that he
focused on, them together that made him lean and sigh.

He nuzzled into Jacks' throat, daring to lick and taste the

vulnerable flesh.

Stilling, Jackson held him, just going quiet and letting him

explore. Not a fucking ounce of submission lay in the man,
but a lot of fucking heart. Just all for him.

Houston closed his eyes, searching Jackson's body with his

fingers and lips. He found new scars that he didn't remember,
heavier patches of hair, lines. The second his mouth left
Jackson's throat, the man started touching back, washing him
with long, soapy strokes. God, it felt good. Right.

They made noises that he had only dreamed about for

years—soft growls and little yips and rumbling moans. Just
like they were pack, more than human, more than wolves.

It was all about getting to know each other again, and all

about how some things had never changed. Finally Jacks

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pushed him against the wall and set those sharp teeth to his
throat, marking him right up. Jackson's mark.

"Yours." Please. He went still, chin lifted for Jackson's

mouth.

A low growl that meant nothing else sounded, Jacks biting

down hard, giving him what he needed to erase some of the
stench of that fucking cage.

Jackson. Jackson. Mate. Jackson. The words throbbed in

his head, over and over like a motherfucking prayer to the
moon.

Jackson pushed him down on the tile floor, his back

against the wall, pushing between his legs to rub hard on
him. Those teeth kept worrying his skin, making him pant.

His cock surprised him, trying to fill, to respond to Jacks,

to reach for that rough paw.

"That's it, baby. That's it. Just feel." Sweet. It just felt so

sweet to have someone touch him with care, with heat.

He spread a bit, heart pounding. He couldn't be worried,

not with Jackson's thick hair against his cheek, not with the
scent of Jackson all around him.

A low moan came across loud and clear, Jackson licking

along his chin, little love bites following each one. Jesus, he
was going to burn up, if Jacks kept that up.

Jackson's chest felt like home to his fingers, the way the

broad chest dipped into lean hips as familiar as breathing. His
thumbs traced circles around Jacks' hips, moving slow.

"Mmmmm." Oh, growly. Like, hot growly, something he'd

never thought he would hear again. Look at that beautiful

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man, wet and slick and moving on him like he was the best
thing since sliced bread.

"Thought I'd lost this." He nipped Jacks' ear, one hand

wrapping around Jacks' hip.

"Got me now. Not gonna let you go again." There. Oh,

there. Jackson moved against him, cock hard and hot against
his belly, sliding up and down.

His ass slid on the tile, eyes rolling wildly as they started

humping and snarling and loving each other. It wasn't easy
and it wasn't gentle. It never was. Jacks bit at him, scratched
him, nails scoring the marks on his side. Threatening.
Promising.

Houston let himself go, let his voice and his need and his

passion free, trusting in Jackson to take it.

Jacks took it all and then some, two fingers sliding right

inside his body, claiming him there, too. Washing everything
else away. Those eyes never left him, that light ring around
the edge threatening to swallow the dark.

"Yours." He bore down, squeezed tight, hoping Jacks felt

him, knowing Jacks would.

"Mine. Mine, baby. Not gonna make it inside you this

time." Jackson's free hand brought their cocks together, that
big body twisting against, arms all crossed. But it worked.
Goddamn, it worked.

"Uhn." He wasn't sure what that meant; it was just all he

had to say as he shot, seed pouring from him.

Approval, love, need ... he could hear it all in Jackson's

cry, the sound almost a full howl, deep and rough. Then Jacks
was coming for him. He'd seen that in his dreams at night.

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He slid down, licking and lapping Jackson's belly, that

heavy cock, the soft balls. The flavor overwhelmed him,
flooded him and he keened. Finally he just lay there,
exhausted, but feeling clean for the first time in who knew
how long. Jacks stroked his head, murmuring nonsense
words.

Home.
He was home.
Houston prayed that they would let him stay long enough

to enjoy it.

* * * *

God, Jackson was ready to kill something. Preferably a

solider, one who would put his proud lover in a cage and
shave him and mark him. If he had one handy, he would do
just that, shred that sumbitch with teeth and claws until there
was nothing left.

For now he'd have to settle for a real hunt. The full moon

called, vibrating along his spine, making him squirm and
whimper as his body readied for the change.

Soon. Soon.
Padding naked and barefoot around the house, Jacks

listened to Houston sleep, the deep breathing as relaxed as
the man had been since he came. The moon should be calling
Houston, too, should be waking the man up and drawing the
beast up. Hell, Houston's wolf was as close to the surface as
he'd ever seen, but his mate just slept.

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Jacks wandered to the pull out bed and slid a hand down

Houston's side. He wanted his mate in his bed, but that
seemed to be some kind of hurdle. They'd cross it.

Houston's eyes popped open, muzzle growing just like

that, teeth glowing.

"Shh. Shh. Not yet, baby, wait for the moon." He petted

the concave belly, all but growling at the loss of muscle.

"I. They didn't let us. I broke free and ran." Houston

wallowed a little, moving under his touch.

"Of course you did. Of course you did, baby. You're strong.

So fucking strong. So proud of you." He bent and kissed that
bruised throat.

"They were gonna take my balls." The words were

whispered, so ashamed, so furious. "That's what they did to
the others."

Fury built in him, the change trying to come before it was

time, his hands itching as they tried to morph into claws. His
howl stuck in his throat, staying there just so Houston
wouldn't have to hear his rage. "You got away. They'll never
take you again."

"No. No, I'll die first. Never again." Houston nudged his

throat, nose sliding on his skin. "I won't bring them to you,
either. I swear."

Close. The moon was close, shadows sliding over the floor.

"If they come here, we'll burn them down. We should get
ready to run, baby. It's almost time to hunt."

Houston stared at him, the hunger in the too-lean face

almost painful. "With you. I'll hunt with you."

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"You know, it, baby. We'll run together. We'll howl. We'll

eat. Missed you." He had, too. It had been an ache he
couldn't tear out, even with all the time in the fucking world
to contemplate how he was the one who had stayed.

Oh. That grin, wild and honest and toothy? That was what

he'd been needing.

He rose, pulling Houston with him, pulling him to the door

of the little adobe, opening it to the cooler evening air. Open
range stretched out in front of them as far as the eye could
see. Only scrub brush and cactus dotted the horizon, the
sounds of small animals scuttling about making him twitch
with the need to run. "Look at that desert. Waiting for us."

Houston's nostrils flared, eyes searching the sky, the

moon. "I thought she'd fallen from the sky."

"Now you know better." Smacking that too-skinny ass,

Jacks laughed for the sheer joy of the night. "Come on,
baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, Jacks." Houston's body rippled, eyes

suddenly sharp and bright.

The moon broke right up over the horizon then, and boom,

the change was on him, leaving him writhing, shedding his
human skin. All he could do was howl his joy at having
Houston right there beside him.

Houston stood beside him, fur matted and ruined, one ear

drooping, but that tail was high, nose wet and sniffing the air.
All Houston needed was to hunt, to eat fresh meat. He'd get
his gloss back, get his strength. Jackson started slow, sniffing
his way away from the house, knowing something small
would go down best. A jackrabbit, maybe.

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Houston followed, getting sidetracked by the littlest things,

just like always. The bounce was less pronounced, the spring
in Houston's legs all but wound down, but his mate still
wandered off the scent every few steps.

Sometimes it was good to know things didn't change. He

kept Houston on track with growls and yips, nips and barks.
Christ, there was still a hint of the pup left, just the barest
bit, and he could just wallow in it. In his mate come home.

A flash of motion caught his eye and they were off,

running hard in the bright moonlight. Houston couldn't go as
fast as before, but it was enough to catch them something.

His mate might have been slower, but the hunger was

driving him, driving them both, Houston snapping at the
hare's heels. The rough ground crumbled away under their
feet, sharp plants trying to grab at them.

Putting on a burst if speed, Jacks turned in front of the

rabbit, pushing it right back into Houston.

Houston snapped, the hare's scream sudden and sharp,

huge feet kicking at the ground. The scent of a fresh kill made
him dance and snap at the air. Houston ripped the jackrabbit
open, snarling and growling and protecting the kill. Even so,
even as lost as Houston was, the choice bits were nosed over,
offered to him.

Oh. Sweet mate. He pushed the heart back to Houston,

knowing the strongest part of the hare would make his love
well again.

Houston snapped it up, both of them bending to eat, the

peace and pleasure between them ringing out.

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They'd hunt some more, then maybe curl nose to tail and

sleep part of the night under the stars. Contrary to what most
folks believed, they weren't mankillers. Not unless they had
to be. They just had to give in to the wolf.

Houston came close, grooming him carefully, tongue

sliding over his face and fur and loving him. Whiskers tickling,
he let his tongue loll, laughing and loving. Jackson panted a
little, the heat of the hunt all over him.

They'd needed this, him and Houston both. Houston lifted

his muzzle to the sky, the cry ringing out—sorrowful and
triumphant all at once.

His own howl came from deep inside, his snout rising to

the sky, his ears back hard. Yeah. God, yeah.

Home. Houston came home.
He'd fight to protect that with everything in him. No matter

what came after them and tried to split them up. He would
never let Houston go again.

* * * *

He woke up behind the house, curled in the shade of the

workshop. They'd run and hunted, romped and napped. They
must have landed here. Houston carefully stood, human legs
feeling gangly and wrong as he leaned, searching for signs of
his mate.

Jacks stood a few feet away, naked in the sun, stretching

for all he was worth. Even muddy and a little bloody,
scratched all up, nothing had ever looked better.

"You need a bath." His voice was raw and his muscles

ached, but goddamn, he felt good.

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"Uh-huh." Cheerful as all fuck. Jacks always was after a

change.

Houston caught himself laughing, just leaning against the

workshop and howling with the pure pleasure of being free.

Jacks came to him, hugging him, swinging him around.

"God, I missed you, baby. My stubborn mate."

"Big lug." He pressed close, rubbing their scents together.
"Mmmhmm. Yours. Man, I could eat about a pound of

waffles."

"I remember those. Do you have the stuff to make them?"
"I do. Eggs and shit. And I think I might just have bacon."
Oh. Bacon. Yeah. That would work. His mouth watered and

he pushed harder. He'd do a lot for bacon. Really.

Laughing, Jacks picked him right up and carried him into

the house. "Water first. Then food. And somewhere in there I
might fuck you raw."

"Promises, promises." He nipped Jacks' throat, jaw, the

lobe of one ear.

"Have I ever lied to you?"
No. No, Jackson had never done that. Not even when he

was leaving and needed to hear it was okay and Jacks had
cussed him instead. "No." Jackson was his true north. It
might well kill him to have to leave again.

"Well, then. There you go." Yanking him close suddenly,

Jacks kissed him, hands bruising hard on his ass.

It shocked him bad enough that he went still for a second,

caught in the hunger before he growled and pushed back,
diving into the kiss. That hot tongue pushed into his mouth,
hard and deep, claiming him. Yeah. So warm, so salty.

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Houston rubbed and grabbed, twisting and moaning like a

needy pup. The sensation of desire was unfamiliar enough to
shock him, to make him work harder. They sank right to the
floor, the shower forgotten, everything going white hot and
full of static. Jacks pushed him down, covering him, scenting
him.

The man in him went rabbit-rabbit, his brain telling him to

protect himself;, but the wolf? The wolf rejoiced in the way
his legs spread instinctively. They rubbed, Jacks making him
forget everything but the scent of the wolf and the hunt, of
need and fucking and love. Goddamn.

They rolled across the floor, Jackson growling as he licked

the vulnerable belly, nuzzled into Jacks' throat before being
rolled again, his own throat nipped. They tussled, both of
them growling and laughing. Jacks gave him everything,
kisses and nips, touches and rubbing. He growled and yipped,
pure joy just pouring from him. He threw his head back,
howled with it.

Flinging both arms around him, Jacks laughed right out

loud. "Love you, baby."

"Good." He leaned and licked Jacks' lips. He could hear

that, again and again.

His stomach growled and Jacks grinned. "Let's eat, H. To

hell with clothes and washing."

"Waffles." He panted and nodded. "Bacon."
Bacon.
"You got it." Someone had always loved to feed him, had a

thing for it. Jacks always said food was love. The man got up,
hauled him up, and set him to cracking eggs.

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Home.
He was home.
He poured them both a glass of milk, lapping at the cold

cream. Home.

The smell of the waffle iron heating made him want to

whine, made the memories of a hundred summer Sundays
come back to him. He should never have left. He stared into
the glass, the weight on his shoulders seeming huge. Sorry.
He was so sorry.

Warm hands landed on his shoulders, rubbing deep into

the muscles. "Has the milk gone bad?"

"No. No, I did. I should have listened to you, Jacks. I

should never have left."

A soft kiss was pressed to his neck. "You did what you did.

So did I. We're here, now. I have a lot of territory to show
you."

"I want to see it all." He needed to see where to hide.
"I'll show it to you." Jacks' smile pressed right into his

skin. "I'll show you everything."

Houston nodded, reaching back for Jacks' hand. "I'll take

you up on that."

"Then we'll do it."
Jacks went back to making breakfast, the sizzle of bacon

and the smell of waffles and syrup surrounding him. It
wouldn't always be this easy. He and Jacks were too volatile
for that. But right now Jacks was giving him just what he
needed. A place to run to.

That would be enough to start with.

* * * *

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Jacks tried not to push. He really did. But he wanted

Houston in bed with him at night, not curled up like a rescue
puppy on the fold out. He wanted to stop sneaking out in the
middle of the night and curling around that too-skinny form,
the bar under the mattress digging into his back.

Slipping into the living room, he watched Houston toss and

turn, watched the long, too-pale legs shift restlessly while
Houston growled and whined.

Okay. Okay, that was it. He couldn't take anymore.
His hands slid over Houston's skin, his voice low and

soothing when he crooned. "I got you, baby. I got you."

"Huh? Jacks. Oh..."
Jacks nodded. "You know it would be easier to hold you if I

didn't have to come out here all the time."

Houston's eyes shone in the dark, the animal gloss coming

through in the low light. "I'm not sure I. I mean. I just don't
want to..."

"Am I crowding you? Does sleeping with me make you

scared?" Goddamn those fucking soldiers. What had they
done to his poor mate?

"No! I mean, I sleep with you fine here." One hand

touched his cheek, shaking the tiniest bit.

"Then what?" He stared into those eyes, trying to make

Houston see that he was safe, that Jacks wanted to know
what he could do to make it right.

"I left. It's not my bed," Houston finally said, eyes

dropping to the floral comforter that had been Jacks'
mother's.

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"Oh, bullshit." If that was it, if he had been sleeping alone

and listening to Houston breathe a room away all this time for
this?

Shit.
Jacks rolled off the couch, grabbing Houston and lifting him

right up. "No more couch, baby. You're coming to bed with
me."

"Are you sure?" Mate. He could hear Houston whisper that

against his throat, that spiky new hair rubbing his skin.

"I'm sure. You're home, baby. This is where you belong."
He'd do whatever it took to convince Houston of that.

Anything at all.

* * * *

Houston wandered around Jacks' bedroom, touching the

top of the oak dresser, feeling the dust rub against his
fingertips. Jacks was always neat, but he hated to dust, and
out in the desert it was always dusty.

The bedroom seemed more like his now. Hell, it smelled

like him, along with Jacks, the scent of their skin and hair and
come everywhere. The blankets and sheets had his
impression in them.

They'd done just about everything in the last forty eight

hours.

Everything but fuck.
Jacks had never offered to roll him over and push into him.

Oh, there had been fingers. Jack's tongue. But not ... that.

The little TV stand had a beer cooler on it. Jacks said TV

didn't come in for shit out here, so he'd gotten rid of all of the

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sets but one, the one hooked up to a DVD player in the living
room.

God knew, Jacks had never been one for technology at the

best of times.

The sound of the front door opening had his back up, the

hair rising on his arms, but then Jacks poked his head
through to the bedroom, staring at him quizzically.

"What's up, baby?" Jacks asked, coming on in.
God, heat and sweat was a good look for Jacks; a good

smell, too.

"Just wandering. What can I do to help?" He was starting

to ask things like that, starting to think of Jacks' place as
homegoodhome.

"There's some yard work."
"That yard is all cactus."
Jacks grinned, a low chuckle sounding. "I'm trying to get it

to be, yeah. Better defense than creosote."

"Then I'm all for it." He scratched his arms, his feet

starting to shuffle again.

"What's wrong, baby?" A blink of the eye was all the time

he had to see Jacks move, the man pressing right up against
him, hands on his ass.

"Nothing. I'm good. I ... I was going to dust." He grinned,

knowing it was a lie, knowing Jacks knew.

"You'll tell me, when you can, yeah? When it's time?"

Those eyes were almost all gray, a sure sign that Jacks was
worried.

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"I will." That he could do. When he could think about it

without wondering if he could do it. When he could tell Jacks
what he needed...

Yeah. He could do that.

* * * *

Jacks finished digging out the damned bush that was

trying to knock the lean-to wall in, wiping sweat off his face.
Fucking hot. Like surface of the sun hot.

He sighed, rolling his head on his neck. God, he wished he

had a cold beer, but they were out. Maybe just some cold
water.

The splash of water hit him, square in the back, cold and

shocking and ... He spun, getting a snootful of water from the
hose, Houston laughing at him.

Sputtering, he made a rush for the man, admiring the

newly suntanned skin, the hair that was growing out glossy
and fine. Someone was on the mend, and damned if Jacks
didn't get a happy every time he realized it.

Houston turned and ran, lean and quick, darting through

the dried grass, muscles working.

Giving chase made him laugh out loud, made him put on

burst of speed and try to get at Houston's heels. His lover had
put on a great deal of muscle.

His mate was laughing, the sound ringing out, just filling

the air. How he loved that fucking sound. Jacks ran faster,
herding Houston toward the stand of rocks that would cut him
off.

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Houston fell for it, heading right for the rocks, legs

working.

Distracted momentarily by the sight of muscles shifting

under tight skin, he almost lost his chance. Then Jacks zigged
when Houston zagged, and that was it. They hit the ground
and rolled, covering themselves with a fine layer of sandy
grit.

Houston's eyes shone, that laughter not fading a bit.
"Man, you're getting better, baby. You gave me a hell of a

chase." Damn, it felt good to laugh in the sun, to just let go
and be.

"Mmm. You still caught me." Houston nuzzled, humming

low.

"Yeah. Well..." Laughing, he rolled them over and over,

getting almost muddy as their sweat mixed with the sand. "I'll
always hunt you down now, you know?"

"Swear it." Houston's eyes were serious, staring into him.
"You have my vow." Jacks stared right back, willing

Houston to believe it. Willing the man to believe it was true.

"Mate." The word was little more than a growl, Houston

right there, with him.

"Mine," he agreed, biting at that long, thin throat. "Very

much mine."

"Yes." Houston held him close, vibrating and growling and

rubbing against him.

"Want you. Right here. Right now." Damn, but he was hard

suddenly. Just shaking with it. He needed to stake his claim.

"Take me. I'm yours." Houston bit his ear, hard.

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Growling, he pushed Houston up, spreading those wiry

legs and pushing between them. They didn't have a lot of
time for pleasantries, but he did make sure they were grit
free.

"Need." He got another bite, another, moving down toward

his throat.

"Ready then?" He wouldn't hurt Houston for the world, but

after the change his lover had always liked it hard and fast.

"Now. Make me yours again." They'd fucking taken so

much from his mate.

"Yes. Mine." Surging up and forward, he pushed his cock

against that sweet hole, feeling it give for him. Open for him.

Houston moaned, bore down and took him in, just so easy,

like it was fucking supposed to be.

Of course, that was it. It was supposed to be. Him and

Houston. Mated. Jacks pushed in and out, just moving his
hips like there was no tomorrow.

Houston's arms wrapped around his neck, holding on,

fingers digging in.

"Baby..." His whole body arched over Houston's, his teeth

sinking in and really marking up one shoulder. Drawing a little
blood. Bonding.

"Jacks." Houston bucked, body sliding on his prick,

muscles gripping his shaft.

"Yours." It went both ways and he had to say it. "Need

this." Faster and faster, he moved his cock in and out, really
rocking Houston back and forth.

"Yes." Those hungry eyes stared into him, refusing to look

away.

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Jacks stared back, needing Houston to feel all of him,

every inch, every bit of skin. The man had to know he could
never leave again. He could see it, the need and the pain and
the pure joy Houston felt in this, in being his, in being home.

If those men ever came for him, Jackson would rip them to

pieces and let the coyotes have them. For now, though, he'd
concentrate on loving Houston into a puddle. Houston's hands
mapped his chest, fingers sliding through the mat of hair on
his chest, tugging and teasing around his nipples.

"Mmm." The deep rumble vibrated all through him, right

into Houston. Good. More.

"Yeah. More." The touches became pinches and the barest

scratches.

"Harder." Houston needed to give some of his own back, to

know that if he went too far Jacks would back him down. He
needed the pack structure...

Houston nodded, pushed up and bit at his throat, nails

dragging hard. That was it. Fuck yes. It took him over, made
him wild, and Jacks fucked Houston harder. Moaning, he
braced himself on one arm, the other hand sliding along that
hot skin.

Houston's growls vibrated his throat, over and over.
"Yeah. Yeah, baby. Wrap your legs around me. We're

going to town." More. They needed more.

The laugh he got was rough, wild. "No. No more towns.

Not for me."

He howled his laughter, his hips starting to jerk, their

dance getting clumsy. Goddamn.

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Houston's hand found that heavy cock, started jerking

hard, the back of that hand rubbing his belly.

"Oh. Oh fuck." He was so close he was shivering with it.

Jacks moved harder, faster, all but sliding them along the
hard earth, his body begging Houston to come for him.

Heat sprayed between them, Houston howling out his

name, the sound ringing out, echoing. That was it. That was
all Jacks needed to send him over the edge. He shot so hard
he grayed out a little, his balls emptying in great, forceful
pulses.

"Mate. Mate. Mate." Houston whispered it, over and over,

like a prayer or something.

"I've got you, baby. Got you so good. Love you." That was

his own mantra. His very own fucking truth.

"Love." Houston nodded, kissed his throat. "Shower?"
"God, yes." Now that they were done? He was feeling a lot

like wet sandpaper. "Then food."

"Food." Houston's belly could rumble. Damn.
"You know it, baby. Come on." He hauled Houston up,

heading toward the house. With Houston back with him, it
seemed more like a home.

Even if they were hauling mud in on their asses.

* * * *

The smell of chocolate and butter and shit had Jackson

following his nose to the kitchen. Fuck, he couldn't remember
the last time his kitchen had been used to make anything but
breakfast and steaks.

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Now he could smell cookies. Maybe that trip to the market

had been worth something after all.

Because damn. Chocolate chips.
"Lord, baby. It smells good in here," he told Houston,

wandering in and brushing flour off the counter into the sink.
It looked good, too, Houston's sweet ass swaying a little to
some internal music.

"Yeah? I was hungry. I haven't had these in years." It

looked like a good chunk of the chocolate chips were gone
already—either into the cookies or into Houston.

"Yeah?" Jacks thought about it. "Me either. So this is

good." Nabbing a bit of dough, he leaned against the counter,
smiling at how good Houston looked.

"Yeah." Houston had stopped jumping at every noise, had

stopped going wolfy at the drop of a hat. The man had also
stopped talking about anything—anything—that had
happened from the time Houston'd headed west to the day
he'd shown back up.

That probably wasn't good, but Jackson hated to complain,

because Houston looked like he was healing. They needed to
start working on getting rid of the rest of the physical signs...

The stove timer dinged and Houston pulled a tray out. The

cookies weren't beautiful, but damn him they smelled great.
Reaching for one just got him burned fingers, but the ooey-
gooey goodness of it in his mouth soon made up for it.
Houston chuffed in pleasure, sliding in close enough to lick
the corner of his mouth clean.

"Mmm." His sticky hand curled around Houston's waist, the

pads of his fingers tracing the line of rib and hip. "Hey."

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"You want another?" Houston leaned, hips rocking into

him.

"Uh-huh." Oh, someone had eaten lots of chocolate. Lots.

It had always made Houston happy.

"It's good." Yeah, yeah, he could smell how good it was, in

Houston's musk, in the hint of need on that fine skin.

"It is." Jacks rubbed right back, loving on the man, hands

searching out all the sensitive spots. Beautiful man. Fucking
glorious wolf.

Houston moved under his touch, shifting and growling

subvocally, calling to him. Calling back with low sounds for
Houston's ears alone, Jacks pushed the man back against the
counter, pushing between his legs. He got nuzzled and licked,
Houston scenting him, tongue sliding on his jaw.

"Sweet, baby. So sweet." Not just the cookies. Houston

made him want to howl with joy.

"Jacks. Want." The soft hair was starting to grow out, long

enough to feel good against his skin instead of tickling.

"What do you want, baby?" Like he didn't know. There was

no way he could miss that hot prick when it slid into his hand,
reaching for his touch.

"You." Those sharp teeth caught his ear, tugging at it and

making it sting.

"Got me. Any way you want me, baby." His own hips

arched, begging, his cock hard and leaking, just like that.

"Jacks." His oral mate started sliding, tongue slipping on

his skin as that hungry mouth headed south.

"Mmm." Oh, it had taken too long for Houston to feel easy

doing anything. Now it came more easily, more often, and

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Jacks fucking reveled in it. "That's it, baby. Take what you
want."

One of his nipples got a sharp bite and enough suction to

make him ache, then Houston kept going, licking at his belly.
Muscles quivering, Jacks moved closer, his hand cupping the
back of Houston's head. Fuck, he wanted. And not just
cookies.

"Smell good." The growl echoed through him as Houston

nuzzled his cock, tongue sliding across the tip.

"Do I taste better than chocolate?" Grinning down, he

stroked Houston's cheeks, thumbs sliding to rest at the
corners of those fine lips.

"Mmhmm." Houston reached up, dragged his fingers along

the cookie sheet, gathering up a bit of melted chocolate and
sliding them into that hungry mouth alongside his cock.

"Oh, fuck." That was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Well, possibly the hottest thing. At least since Houston had
come back.

The suction got harder, Houston sucking his cock, those

long fingers, all at the same time. The deep growls were
enough to send him over the fucking moon; the way Houston
openly needed him now just made him wild.

His balls drew up, his teeth grinding as he fought the

orgasm riding up along his spine. He needed to make this last
a bit. Just like a good dessert. Those pretty eyes stared up at
him, shining as long, slick fingers popped out of Houston's lips
and pressed behind his balls. Oh. Oh, Houston was pushing.

The question was, did he let that push go anywhere? Or

did he shut Houston down. Once upon a time he would have

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resisted. Now, just maybe, he thought Houston might need
that tiny bit of give.

That touch didn't make him growl, either, one finger

slipping inside deep enough to rub his gland, work it as that
head bobbed over his cock. Every muscle in his body tried to
seize up, his hips pumping, his cock fucking that mouth like
there was no tomorrow. He just ... damn. "Houston..."

Those eyes ... Fucking hell. Houston took him all the way

in, swallowing and sucking, that touch inside him threatening
to make him scream.

All he could do was stare down into those amazing amber

eyes and let it all go, let himself come like a freight train. Just
like that. Everything in him poured right out.

Houston groaned, swallowing and sucking, cleaning him off

with that hot tongue.

"Oh. Baby. So good." He petted and stroked that head of

growing hair, showing how much he loved, how he admired.

Listen to that happy sound. Houston leaned into his touch,

nuzzling his belly and balls, playing with him, loving on him.

Shivers wracked his body, every particle awake and alive

and just fucking happy. "Love you, Houston." He cupped
those lean cheeks in his hands, tipping Houston's face up.
"You know that, right?"

"I know." Houston kissed the base of his thumb, lips

swollen and hot. "Mate."

"Mmmhmm. Who else would make me cookies?" Laughing,

he sank right to his knees, kissing Houston square on the
mouth.

Oh. Him. Houston tasted like him with a hint of chocolate.

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Fucking A. He kissed so hard their lips pushed back against

their teeth, reaching down to see if Houston needed a little
help with the happy, just because. That heavy prick slid
across his palm, hotter than the hinges of hell as it dragged.
God, yeah. He grabbed a hold, pulling at Houston's prick.
Sweet. Hot. So fucking needy.

Houston bared his teeth, head tossing as he bucked. The

tip of Houston's cock slid along his palm, wet and slick.

"Got you, baby. Feel you. Need to see it." He wanted every

bit of need, every bit of love. There. Right there in his hand.

"Yours." Houston's motions sped, those lean hips rocking

furiously into his touch.

"Mine. All mine." God, that man. Smell that musk, the

scent making his mouth water a lot harder than the cookies
ever had. Jacks pushed Houston down, nuzzling his belly,
licking his way to that hot cock.

Houston was as needy as he'd ever been, bucking up with

a wild cry, thighs hard as rocks.

He just pushed those hips back down and took Houston all

the way in, rubbing his tongue up and down. Fucking A. He
could die happy.

Good goddamn thing he didn't have to, because Houston

was howling out his name, bittersalty seed hot on his tongue.

Drinking the man right down, Jacks moaned and licked and

nuzzled, giving praise. He left a tiny bruise on that flat belly,
just by the navel. Right at the tender part. Marking.

Houston reached down, stroking the mark with a rumble

that sounded as satisfied as he felt.

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"Good, baby. Real good." The cookies started to smell real

good again, reminding him that he needed to eat a few more.
"Almost as good as chocolate."

Houston chuckled, bit him. "Almost."

* * * *

Jackson had a huge plot of land. Huge.
It took three hours and thirty eight minutes a night to

patrol it.

Houston slipped from bed at two a.m., every day the moon

wasn't full, and walked it. Sometimes the wolf took him,
sometimes it didn't.

Tonight it had and he'd run until he'd forgotten himself,

only heading back when the sun was turning the sky pale and
his paws were raw.

He was maybe fifty yards from the house when Jacks

appeared right in front of him, growling at him like the
fucking alpha he was. Beautiful bastard.

Houston growled back, teeth bared. He could have a little

fight.

Padding right up to him, the wolf right there, Jacks

bristled, teeth bared. Oh, yeah. They could snarl and tear a
little.

His claws dug into the dirt as his muscles bunched, his

whole body readying to pounce.

Jacks came right at him, barreling into him with amazing

speed for someone who had been standing still. They rolled in
the dirt, both of them snapping at legs and throats.

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By the moon his mate was strong. Fortunately, he had

rage to fuel him.

Neither of them fought to kill, but they fought hard and

true, Jacks' teeth closing on his tail and making him yelp.
Sharp. Such a bright, sharp pain.

Houston could feel himself fading, feel his hold on the wolf

shifting, making him pant and stumble. Damn it.

Jacks backed right off, circling him, nudging him with that

long muzzle. The man always knew. Always.

Always had.
Houston moved toward his mate, whining softly and licking

Jacks' lips.

Chuffing, Jacks licked back, grooming him a bit before

starting to herd him toward the house. Rest. Food. Rest. He
could hear it all in the low growls.

Rest.
He groaned, so in love it hurt. Home. Home. Home.
Jacks took him home, the wolf leaving them the minute

they hit the door. Left him weak as a baby. Jacks sort of
folded next to him, warm skin pressed close to his.

"Jackson." He panted, head on the floor.
"Mmmhmm. Baby, what is it? What are you looking for?"

One hand slid up his side, tracing his ribs.

"Not looking. Waiting. Watching." Watching to make sure

they couldn't get Jackson.

"You got to trust me, Houston. Trust that I can protect

you." His big, bad wolf. All growly on his behalf. And Jacks
honestly thought he could keep them safe.

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"They'll come, Jacks. They'll come and take you, if they

can." They'd take Jackson's balls. They'd mark him. Shave
him. Ruin him.

Just like they'd ruined Houston.
"No." So low it was almost a sub-vocalization, Jacks

growled the word, rolling him to his back. Sharp teeth closed
on his throat, the classic sign of the alpha making a point.
"No."

He howled, eyes rolling in his head. He wanted to believe.

He needed to, but he just couldn't.

Jacks pushed between his legs, spreading him, forcing his

attention to one thing. Hot, male, all Jacks. Right there.
Nothing else mattered. Their eyes snapped together, Jackson
holding his gaze like those big eyes were the moon herself. All
of that confidence, all of that need ... Everything he ever
wanted was right there for him to take.

"I won't let them have you. You're mine." He never looked

away from Jacks' gaze.

"Yours, baby. All yours. No one is gonna have me but

you." He got a kiss, one that curled his toes right up. His
body went hard in a rush, desire and need flooding him.

"That's it." Jacks said it against his mouth, lips moving on

his. Yeah. Damn. Now.

He spread, planting his feet and dropping his knees out.

Now. Nodding, growling, Jacks pushed right up against him,
cock rubbing against his hole. Ready for him. Eager. He
leaned up, bit Jacks' throat, shaking a little as he begged for
it, needed it.

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"Got what you need, baby." Oh, yeah. Yeah. He needed

what Jacks was giving him, that cock sliding right into him,
hot as a brand. Hard as stone.

The screaming and worrying inside him eased, pushed

away by the pressure inside him, that heat over him.

"Love ... love you, baby." Jacks had told him that more in

the last month than he had the whole time they'd been
together before.

"Love." He nodded, teeth bared with the pure pleasure of

it.

They rocked, Jacks working him, hips just pushing against

him with bruising force. Yeah. Every thrust moved him, made
him slide along. They slapped together, Jacks' cock pushing
deeper as his hands connected with the wall, giving him
something to brace against. Sharp teeth latched on to his
throat again, biting down hard. Every move they made set
those teeth harder into him. Shit yes. The sting made him
feel incredibly alive.

He was trapped there, head tossing, teeth snapping at the

air as Jackson loved him, spread him wide open. His whole
body shook with it, his muscles tight as frozen rope. Jesus, he
was just going to explode. Jacks howled for him, the sound
triumphant as all hell. He shot, without even a touch to his
cock, his body tightening around Jacks, holding him in.

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna..." Jack shouted, coming hard

inside him, just filling him deep. All the way to the core.

Mate.
Mate.
Mate.

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He could hear the word with every heartbeat, with every

throb of that cock inside him.

Jacks fell on him, pressing him to the floor, both of them

gasping for breath. "Oh, fuck, Houston. Needed that. Woke
up and you were gone..."

"I have to guard you. Our home. They'll come."
Stroking his cheek, Jacks licked the corner of his mouth,

sharing the salt and heat flavor of them. "Let me help, then.
Let me make it right for you."

"How?" He chased Jacks' lips, nodding.
"We'll set up the perimeter. We'll patrol together if we

have to. Get some security. Shit, I don't know. But we can.
Fuck, we can go to Mexico. You know how much territory we
could get us there?"

"Mexico?" Had Jacks lots his mind?
"Yeah. What? There are wolves in Mexico." Grinning, Jacks

kissed his nose. "Think of all of the tequila."

"You've lost your mind."
"Baby, I just want to keep you safe." That rumble was just

sweet as shit. Jacks wasn't laughing at him. The man was just
laughing.

"I want to believe you can, mate. I do." His fingers trailed

down his side, from the scar where he'd torn the chip out to
the ink that marred him.

Jacks' hands followed his. "You're almost strong enough,

lover. Almost. We'll fix this."

"Yeah? I ... It eats at me."
"No, baby, that would be me." Oh, someone was full of

piss and vinegar now that they'd fought and fucked.

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He growled, nipping at Jacks' belly idly before padding

down the hall.

Water.
Shower.
Possibly nap.

* * * *

Jacks watched Houston pace, knowing that his mate was

itching to run, or scared he'd have to, scared that someone
was gonna come take them away. The full moon was still far
enough off that they really didn't need to get hairy. What
Houston needed was a distraction. Jacks pondered that.
Scrabble? Tiddly winks?

Maybe it was time to do something about the ink that

marred that fine body, which wasn't nearly so skinny
anymore.

Rolling to his feet off the couch, Jacks stalked over and

stopped Houston mid-pace.

"Hey, baby."
"Hey." Houston leaned up, nuzzled him. That motion was

as natural as breathing.

"Mmm. You smell good." He was gonna get distracted if he

wasn't careful.

"You taste good." He got another lick, another nibble and

nuzzle.

"Yeah?" Shivery good, that tiny touch. His nipples went

hard, his cock stirring. "Well, what are we gonna do about it,
baby?"

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"Is that a rhetorical question?" Houston led him back

toward the bed, away from the windows.

"No. I mean, uh. What?" Those hands were all over him,

making it hard to think. Making him hard as a rock. Houston's
chuff tickled his skin, those sharp teeth working the skin
above his nipple.

"Come on, Houston. Bite, will you?" His body needed the

sharp touch. The sting.

"Pushy asshole." Houston's light eyes glinted, the bite right

there, teasing him.

"Always. Want!" Growling, he pulled Houston right up to

his skin, arching into the touch of that hot mouth. Houston bit
hard, teeth bruising the skin, shocking the muscle in his
chest. Jerking, he growled happily, his hands going to
Houston's shoulders to hold on. Jacks' hips rolled up, his cock
rubbing against Houston's belly. The bites moved lower and
lower, Houston not moving him anymore.

Growling, Jacks pushed at Houston's head, trying to get

that mouth where he needed it. God, he was gonna bust.
Explode. Houston had him flying.

His fucking evil mate skipped his cock, nuzzling his balls,

pulling one into that heated mouth.

Jacks' body tried to crawl right into that mouth, his hips

rolling in a tight circle, his skin covered in goosebumps.

Houston's eyes shone up at him, bright as the moon. That

tongue slid over the skin of his balls, soft as anything and ten
times as good.

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"Baby. You got me. Anything. Please." Jacks just needed

more. More pressure, more heat. He was addicted. Fucking
addicted.

That mouth popped off him and Houston growled. "Love."
Then his cock was taken in to the root.
Fuck yes. Fuck. Yes. Shouting, he started fucking that

sweet mouth, pure instinct taking him over. His body was just
driving to the finish.

His mate took him in, swallowing and sucking, demanding

all he had. Now.

Jacks came hard, his breath whooshing out, his hips

snapping. Jacks' belly felt hard as a board, and his balls
seemed like they were gonna empty out forever. Strong
fingers rolled them in their sac, making sure Houston got him
all. Houston's other hand was on his hip, holding on tight.

"Jesus fuck, baby." His back hit the floor with a slap, the

sweat just running on him. "Gonna make me go kaboom one
of these days."

"No. No explosions. Keeping you." Houston was licking his

prick, tongue sliding almost idly.

It was almost too sensitive, and his toes curled up, a long

flex and release. "Yours, baby."

"Mine." The touches slid down to his balls, moving them

carefully. "I want their mark gone, Jackson. I need you to do
that."

"I can do that, baby. I surely can. How do you want it? We

can do it with scars. We can do it with some India ink..."
There were a lot of things they could do. He'd do them all for
Houston.

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"I don't know. I need you to make it yours." That haunted

look was back, bound with a pure fury.

"Shh. Shh. Hush, baby. I got you." He wasn't gonna make

Houston think about it anymore. He was just gonna do it. And
he'd need Houston to call up the wolf for it to take.

"You always have. You should have run, when I came for

you." Right, like he could have done that. Houston had
hunted him like a wounded deer.

"Like I would run from you, baby. Sit up. I need to get

some stuff." He needed a razor; his claws would do some, but
the rest...

Houston rolled up, nodding, nervous energy pouring

between them.

Gaining his feet, he reached out and touched Houston's

cheek. "Think of the wolf, baby. Think of him, but stay right
here. Got it?"

He put all of his alpha in his voice.
"Yeah. Yeah, Jacks. I hear you." That was his mate, the

trust in him.

"Good. Be right back." The sharp straight razor was in a

trunk in the bedroom. Only it would do. He didn't bother with
the alcohol. They never needed it to heal.

Houston was waiting, eyes glowing, panting and making

soft whines and chirps, calling to him.

"Right here, baby. Right here for you." He showed Houston

the razor, letting it register, letting the man get the idea
settled in. No way did Jacks want a fight on his hands.

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Those eyes didn't panic, though. There was a need there,

not fear. Somewhere his mate had lost the fear of pain;
they'd stolen it.

He put a hand on the back of Houston's neck, leaning his

forehead against his mate's for just a moment. "Gonna fix
you right up. I love you."

"Love." Houston looked at him, loved him with a stubborn

will that hadn't changed since the first time he'd let the cub
in.

"Lay back." He spread Houston out for him, pushing that

one arm up so he could get to the marked side. Rage built in
him, but he tamped it down. This had to be about love. About
claiming. He wasn't gonna do it in anger. Not when his lover's
blood ran bright red under his blade, a line of molten fire
springing up on Houston's skin.

Houston groaned, took a deep breath. "Yours. I have

always been yours."

"Always. Even when you left. Even when they had you. I

was always waiting." Almost meditatively, he drew another
line with the razor, the marks starting to take on a pattern,
the inked barcode disappearing.

"I dreamed of you. Swore I would come tell you I was

wrong." Those pretty lips were parted, the sheen of sweat
beginning to form.

"You were right. You knew." Another cut, then another,

slow and sure. He could almost see Houston trying to heal.
"More wolf, baby."

"More wolf." Houston growled, nose twitching, the hair on

the man's chest getting thicker.

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"That's it. That's it, baby." It was weird, how their bodies

worked. How the wolf allowed some things that the human
didn't. And vice versa. He cut again, watching Houston's wolf
know his touch, love it. Need it.

Those eyes glowed for him, Houston's teeth lengthening,

shining for him as his mate grinned.

Sweet. Look at that. His heart beat faster, his belly

thrumming with the feelings washing through him. God, he
needed this, too. Needed to claim.

One cut after another destroyed the pattern, destroyed the

evil on Houston's skin and left his own mark.

He made a swirl for the moon, a sweeping muzzle for the

wolf. A 'J' for his name. Damn, that was looking better.

The skin knit quickly, Houston's sounds getting husky,

rough with joy, his mate relaxed under his blade.

The scars were doing just what he wanted. He'd have to go

over it a few more times, but they were obscuring the marks
those bastards had left. He cut again, knowing the blood was
necessary.

Houston yelped, calling for him, loving him, more wolf than

man now.

He rumbled, letting his own vocalizations tell Houston he

was loved, wanted, his. They were pack. End of story. One
last cut and he was done. Just one more, right down the
entire line of Houston's ribs.

He got a bark, Houston rolling up on all fours, offering him

a toothy smile.

There. Oh. Perfect. Now he just had to make sure it took.

"You're gonna hate this part, baby. But I have to."

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Houston's head tilted, a questioning trill sounding.
"Ash, baby. If I rub some ash in the scars it will keep them

open enough to make a good mark." He'd have to do it fast,
but he had a bucket waiting by the wood stove. "Trust me?"

Houston's answer was to duck that sweet head, rub those

cheeks against his thighs.

He didn't know what he'd done to deserve Houston.

Whatever it was, he hoped he kept doing it. Before the
wounds could close completely, he grabbed a double handful
of ash and started rubbing it in, soothing noises coming from
deep in his chest.

Houston groaned, panting against him, whining as the

muscles shuddered and shook.

"I know, baby. I know. It'll be over soon." It would. The

wolf body would heal right over the ash, leaving the raised
pieces of skin. It would leave grayish marks on the human
body. Yeah. God, yeah.

His mate let himself go, let the wolf take him over, those

familiar eyes staring at him over the long muzzle. So
beautiful, now that his coat had grown in some, now that the
muscles were coming back.

Once he was done with the ash, Jacks let himself push his

fingers into that thick fur and scratch. He loved on his mate
hard. That long tail wagged, Houston's eyes crossing when he
hit a sweet spot, tongue lolling. Laughing, he rolled them to
the floor, scratching at that fine belly, the soft fur tickling his
fingers. His mate licked and nuzzled, chuffing against his skin,
playing. Playing. Sweet.

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They'd get through everything just like they were getting

through this. They would. Jacks stroked down the side that
was scarring up as he watched, nodding his head.

Yeah. They'd do it. They would survive it all and be

stronger.

Together.

* * * *

Houston pounced Jackson as his mate came in the front

door, teeth on one broad shoulder.

"Fuck me."
Hopefully that would be direct and clear enough for his

growly, stubborn lover. Three days since they'd snarled and
spat, three days since they'd really let themselves argue and
Jackson was still staying in the barn.

Jacks pushed him away, the move more instinct than

anything. Those dark eyes stared right into his before Jacks
pounced him in return, just taking him down.

He arched and pushed, not wanting to fight too hard,

because he needed, but knowing they needed a little struggle
for the spice.

Come on. Come on, Jacks.
Need.
Jacks bit him, right on the throat, sucking up a heavy

bruise. It had him panting and moaning, had him ready to go.

His claws slid down Jacks' back, dragging on the tanned

skin. "Mine."

Moaning, Jacks rolled them, putting him on top, hauling his

ass up to straddle those muscled thighs. "Mine."

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"Yes." He could no more deny that than he could deny

himself. "Fuck me."

"Come on, baby. Come on and ride me. Show me how

much you want me." All the pent up rage was gone from
Jackson's face, just need there now.

Houston nodded, reaching right back and taking Jacks in

hand. He'd slicked and stretched, promising himself a good,
hard fuck, and this was it. He growled and sank onto Jacks'
prick, almost howling with pleasure.

"Fuck! Baby. More. Move, Goddamn it." Those hands

clamped down on his hips, moving him up and down, up and
down.

"Yeah." He nodded, bouncing on Jacks' prick, driving him

both higher, harder.

"Uhn." That growl had his cock jerking, had chills running

up and down his spine. Jacks was all wolf.

"Mate." He arched, showing off, showing himself. He

wanted Jackson to know how much he loved, to be proud.

"Fucking love you," Jacks murmured against his skin,

loving him right back, one hand sliding up to trace the scars
on his ribs.

Those made him beautiful. Made him Jackson's again like

nothing else would.

And the pride in Jacks' eyes when he looked at them?

Made all the snarling and the smarting and waiting worth it.
Every bit.

He squeezed Jacks' prick, grinning down as Jacks' howled

with it. Oh, yeah. Just that. He chuffed, squeezing again.

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"Baby! Jesus. Love..." Hips rolling up, hands hard on him,

Jacks just fucked him like there was no tomorrow. Like he
was the whole world.

He leaned back, hands landing on Jackson's thighs, that

heavy prick sliding deeper.

Growling, Jacks humped up, holding him right there, that

sweet cock swelling inside him, making him whimper. Yeah.
Yeah, he so needed more of that.

"There. There. Don't stop." His cock slapped against his

belly, hot drops sliding down his shaft.

"Fuck no, baby. Not going to stop. Been missing you at

night..." Yeah. Yeah, his stubborn Jacks would miss him and
still sleep alone.

"Come back." It was part-demand, part-plea.
"I will. Stupid ... I'm a stupid fuck, baby." The words came

out as pants, Jacks' cheeks flushed bright red, sweat running
on the man's chest and neck. "Need to be with you."

"Mine. Oh, fuck. My cock. Love. Touch me." His

motherfucking head was going to pop off.

Jacks did just what he asked, reaching down and pulling

hard at his prick, making a fist around him. His spine tried to
bend back on itself and his mouth dropped open on a moan
and that was gonna be all she wrote.

He shot so hard the room went white, his teeth coming

together with a click as his ass clenched tight.

Jacks just roared for him, cock throbbing deep inside him

as his mate spent for him, hands almost becoming claws. He
could see Jacks' face waver, the wolf trying to come out, it
was that powerful.

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Houston slumped forward, licking Jacks' lips, the pointed

chin, the jaw.

"Mmm." Low, growly, the noise told him everything Jacks

hadn't said the last few days. Love you. Pack. Mine.

He nodded in response, humming low. Better.
Much better.

* * * *

The sound started low. It was just a whine, a tiny noise

that woke him, had him listening to see if there was a
wounded coyote out there somewhere.

Then it started to get louder, and Houston began thrashing

next to him, clawing at the air. It made the fucking hair on
the back of his neck stand up, had him up on all fours ready
to fight off whatever was attacking. Without even thinking.

Shit.
It was a fucking dream. He couldn't fight anything. But he

could wake Houston up.

"Baby. Baby, wake up."
Those pretty eyes popped open, rolling like dice before

they settled.

"I got you. I got you, baby. It's okay." He rubbed

Houston's shoulders, soft and slow.

"Oh. Oh, shit. I." Houston panted, tongue lolling.
"Quite a dream, huh? Come on, baby. Shake it off." God,

he hated the fear in those eyes. Hated the people who'd put it
there.

"Yeah. Sorry." Houston rolled out of the bed, padding

toward the bathroom.

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Sighing, Jacks rolled to his back, scratching his chest.

Waiting. They needed to talk. They really did.

His mate came back, wet-haired and calmer, beer dangling

from the long fingers. "You're still awake?"

"Uh-huh. Been waiting on you, man." He rolled to his side,

propping up on one elbow. "You ready to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" The bed dipped, Houston sitting close.

"What I dreamed?"

"That, too. You never have told me about the soldiers,

really." He needed to know. How in Hell could he defend his
mate from what he didn't understand?.

"I. We had a little house at the beach—it was a little pack;

six females and two other males. They came with
helicopters."

Houston drank half the beer down, long throat working.
Jacks resisted the urge to stroke and pet and distract with

loving. He needed to know. "Helicopters..."

"Yes. Helicopters. We were asleep, just after the moon. So

tired. They had tear gas and shit. They rounded us up in a lab
on the coast. There were two other packs. I was there ... a
long time."

"How long, baby?" His hands reached right out, landing on

Houston's skin. He couldn't not touch.

"I was only gone from you four moons before they got

me." Jesus. Jesus.

That was ... that was too fucking long to be scared every

day. Too long to worry about them taking your fucking balls.
"Fuck, baby. No wonder you were so messed up."

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"I don't ... I don't remember much of parts. There were

shots and shocks and ... They have bitches, Jackson. They're
breeding bitches." Houston was losing it, shoulders hunching,
teeth baring.

Crawling over, he took Houston's cheeks in his hands,

staring right into those eyes. "You're not there now. You're
not. You won't be."

Though the temptation to gather a force and go to this lab

and wipe it out was strong.

"What if they come back, mate? What if they find me and

take you, take your balls?"

"If they come, we'll kill them. This is our land." There were

other wolves out there. Coyote spirits, too. They had friends
Houston didn't even know about. "We'll be safe."

"I called for you. I knew you couldn't hear, but I couldn't

stop."

"I'm sorry I didn't come." He rested his forehead against

Houston's. "Some nights I thought I heard you howling for
me..."

"I should have stayed. I was so stupid, mate."
"You were young." Young and wanting to alpha his own

pack and needing a life that wasn't scrub brush and rabbits. It
happened to the best of them. Jacks just wouldn't be out-big-
bad-wolfed, and Houston had paid for it.

"I was. I broke free. I came home."
"Home. I love you, baby." There would be more talks. He

needed to know what tests they'd done, why they bred the
females and to who, if they were cutting off the males' balls.
But that could wait.

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"I know." Houston put the beer aside, pushing into his

arms. "I know.

"Good." Hops and yeast and warm wolf. That was what

Houston tasted like. It was a fine thing. A fine, fine thing,
having Houston home with him. His.

They tumbled onto their sides, twined around each other.

He could see himself in Houston's eyes. He could see need
there, too. Houston wanted him to wipe out the dreams,
make him think of something better. Something fine.

Something true.
All that other, it was lies. Their little pack, their land—that

was truth.

He pulled Houston right up to him, lips pressing against his

mate's, opening that hot mouth up for his tongue. He needed,
too. His fingers traced along the scars on Houston's side, the
raised ridges making him hard, making him growl.

"Mine, baby. All mine. God, I love you." He was just ...

God, he was so fucked where Houston was concerned.

"Love you." Houston arched up into him, stretching and

offering him all of that fine, fine skin.

Licking and nibbling, Jacks explored, making happy noises

of his own. Yeah. Oh, yeah, look at his marks right there.

Houston made the best sounds—low and happy chuffing

noises that settled right in his balls.

Mmm. Balls. Yeah. Jacks licked some more, lips sliding

down Houston's chest and sides. So sweet. Hot. Salty.

Houston's muscles jerked and shivered under his lips,

under his tongue.

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"What do you want, baby?" Jacks needed Houston to ask

sometimes. Had to hear it out loud.

"You. Your mouth. Your cock. I'm yours, mate. Want you."
"Oh, good." His mouth this time, he thought. Kissing his

way all the way down, he nuzzled each of Houston's thighs,
warming the man up.

"Good. Jacks." Look at that pretty man spread, eager and

unafraid, needing him like no one else ever had.

His chin nuzzled those sweet balls, and then Jacks moved

up to lick at Houston's cock. God, he loved that taste. Wet-
tipped and dark, that prick throbbed, begging for his lips, his
tongue and when he touched the tip of his tongue to
Houston's slit, his mate howled for him.

Oh, he needed more of that sound. Needed it desperately.

Jacks went looking for more taste, more sound. He pushed his
tongue against Houston's cock again, then closed his lips
around and sucked.

His mate went wild for him, fucking his lips, calling out for

him, announcing them to the world.

That was the most perfect fucking sound in the world.

Jacks sucked harder, deeper, reveling in it. His tongue rubbed
on every stroke, so sensitive, feeling every beat of Houston's
heart.

He could taste it as Houston got closer, could see it—those

long hands opening and closing on the sheets, over and over.

Fucking hot. Necessary. All his.
All he could do was make encouraging noises, his hands

closing on Houston's thighs, his fingers opening and closing.

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"Jacks!" Houston rolled up, curling around his head, seed

pulsing out into his tongue.

Drinking it all down, Jacks licked his lips before kissing the

tip of Houston's cock. "Good, baby."

"Uh-huh." Houston's head was rolling, the look on his

mate's face dazed.

He laid his head on Houston's belly, panting a little, a bit

dazed himself. Fucking A.

"You. What do you need?" Houston petted him, fingers

stroking his hair.

"I just needed to be with you. Make the dreams go away."

Fuck, he was still hard, just shaking with it.

"Take me. I'm yours." Houston rolled, ass canted,

presented like a gift, just for him.

He all but choked on his own drool, moving in to place so

fast he figured he'd have rug burn on his knees. Jacks got two
fingers wet, pushing them right up against Houston's hole.

Houston pushed right back, opening for him easily, taking

him down to his hand. "Yes. Yours."

"Oh, God. Love. Baby..." His fingers moved in and out for

maybe ten seconds. That was all he could stand. Then Jacks
was pulling those out and pushing his cock in, shoving hard.

Fuck. Fuck, those muscles rippled around him, making him

jerk, push deeper, just to feel more. To know more.

Reaching around, he put one hand low on Houston's belly,

pulling up to get the man closer, get a better angle. Then he
buried his face against the nape of Houston's neck, scenting
him.

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Houston bent his head, offering that nape without

hesitation.

Biting down gave him a happy the size of at least Mexico.

Maybe Central America, too. Jacks howled against Houston's
skin, his hips starting to pump.

"Jackson. Mate." The words were bare growls, Houston

meeting each thrust, riding his cock.

"Yes. Mine." Lord, how many times had he said that in the

last weeks? But he meant it with everything in him.

"Yours." He said it because Houston needed to hear it.

Because he needed to say it.

It went both ways. They needed each other. They made

each other stronger. Jacks moved faster and faster, his skin
too fucking tight and hot.

His mate bore down, squeezing him tight enough he

gasped. They rocked together, his hips smacking Houston's
ass, his breath coming in great pants. He just couldn't stop.
Just kept going.

He could feel Houston meet each thrust, body clinging to

his cock on each pull.

Reaching down, he grabbed Houston's cock, pulling at it in

time with their movements. Hot. Wet at the tip. So ready for
him.

"Yours. Yours. Fuck, Jacks. Soon."
"Now, baby. Right now." Jacks couldn't hold back any

more, and he wanted to feel Houston around him when he
came.

"Now." Heat spread over his fingers, muscles squeezed his

cock.

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"Now," he agreed, his cock pushing in one last time before

he shot. Jacks came hard, his eyes rolling with it.

Houston slumped down to the mattress, panting, just loose

and melted under him.

The back of that bent neck was irresistible, and Jacks bent

to it, licking at the mark he'd made when he bit.

Oh, listen to that rumble, that deep, rough, happy sound.
"We're good together, baby. No matter what. Remember

that whenever the night gets to you."

"Mmhmm." Houston was almost asleep again, almost worn

out.

That suited him just fine. His mate needed to sleep. To

rest. So badly. Jacks nuzzled in, loving on Houston a little,
humming to help put the man out.

Long fingers twined with his, his mate relaxing fully.

Trusting him, his strength.

He would guard Houston's dreams. Keep his mate safe.
That was his new fucking obsession.

* * * *

There was a strange truck.
There was.
It had passed by three days in a row and stopped, a

different person inside each time, staring.

Houston watched and watched, then went to Jackson,

vibrating, whimpering with his fury, his sorrow. "I have to go.
They've found me. I'll head south."

He didn't want to go.
He wasn't ready.

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"No." Jacks didn't even hesitate, didn't even blink in

surprise. "No, if there's someone out there, we'll face them
together. Kill them."

Houston stopped, stared at Jacks as if his mate had lost all

sense. "What?"

"We can't run forever. If they're as determined as you say,

they won't stop coming." Those gray ringed eyes met his,
serious as a heart attack and twice as strong.

"They won't." He searched Jackson's eyes, that look

settling him. "They'll try to take us both."

"We're not going to let them." Jacks grinned a little, lips

pulling back over his teeth in a wolf smile. "I'm not afraid of
dying with you, baby."

"No. No, I'm not afraid of that." He was afraid that they

would take Jackson, hurt his mate. Dying was inevitable.

"Well, there you go. We'll fight them to the death, baby.

No more running." Those rough hands closed on his
shoulders, firm and bracing.

"You won't let them take me." Never caged again. Never.
"I won't. And you won't let them take me. This is why

we're mates. This is what you were missing in your little pack
before." There wasn't a bit of jealousy in it, or anger. Just
certainty. Jacks just seemed fucking sure that they were
invincible as long as they were together.

He nodded. "We were living a lie. I needed to be with my

pack, my mate."

"You just needed to go out and test yourself. Trial by fire."

Jacks seemed completely determined to understand, even
though he hadn't at the time. Not at all. Jacks had ranted and

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snarled, told him he was a damned fool and that he would
miss what they had.

Jacks had been right.
He snorted, rolled his eyes a little. "I didn't pass that test,

did I?"

"Are you shitting me?" Jacks took a long, hard kiss. "You

survived. You survived when so many were broken."

Yeah. Yeah, he had. He survived and he came home and

found his mate.

He caught Jacks' eyes, nodded.
"So." Grinning, Jacks rubbed noses with him, making his

eyes cross. "We fight. Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah. This is our land." He wasn't sure. He really

wasn't; they had people, weapons. Still. He had Jacks. So
yeah, they'd fight.

"We can work on some safeguards." Pulling him into the

little office behind the kitchen, Jacks opened a drawer, pulling
out a topo map. Damn. The man had scribbled all sorts of
shit. Locations of underground springs, other wolves, and bolt
holes.

Leaning against Jacks' side, Houston began to believe.

* * * *

Jacks stretched, scratching a little, pondering letting the

wolf take him so he could really get a good scratching in
behind his ear.

He yawned, then went back to being on watch. The truck

that Houston had seen hadn't shown up again, but that didn't
mean it wouldn't. This time he planned on seeing it.

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Houston was curled up, sleeping hard, fingers over his

nose. Something had settled with his mate, eased, and
Houston had crashed, sleeping like a puppy for two days.

It was the cutest fucking thing he'd ever seen. Jacks had

been smiling over it for about a day and a half. Once he
realized that Houston wasn't sick.

His mate was dreaming, legs running, Houston chuffing

and grinning, chasing something.

Oh, look at that. Maybe it was a fat rabbit or a prairie dog.

The urge to go and tickle those lean ribs was strong.

God, it was good to see—Houston sleeping and having

good dreams, laughing and moaning. Calling for him. For him.

He wandered over, scratching his own ribs, his grin

splitting his face again. Then he backed off a step and
pounced, jumping right all up in the bed and Houston's
sprawl.

Houston yipped and twisted, rolling from under him and

moving to attack, fingers digging into his ribs to tickle.

Struggling and laughing, Jacks bent and took a bite, not

hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel. "You were dream
chasing, baby."

"Deer." Houston chuckled, stretched for him a little. "A big

buck."

"Yeah? Did you get close?" He swore he'd woke up once

with little white tail hairs in his mouth he'd been so close to
catching his dream deer.

"We did." Houston nuzzled his shoulder, his jaw, relaxed

and playful like he remembered the pup being back at the
beginning—all teeth and tail.

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"Mmmm. You and the mouse in your pocket?" Houston

didn't have pockets right now and he knew it. Had to be him.

"Me and my mate. You might've met him once." That

tongue slid south, teeth threatening.

"You think?" Oh, that felt hellacious good. His whole body

shivered with it, his moan slipping right out.

"Maybe." His nipple was circled, Houston's tongue sliding

around and around.

"Uhn. Love that. So much." Body arching, he rocked and

groaned, asking for more.

Houston's lips fastened over his nipple, sucking hard

enough that his toes curled.

"Yeah. Yeah." Babbling probably wasn't a good look for

him, but he couldn't care just then. All he could do as revel in
the heat, the touching.

Houston's hair had grown long enough for him to tangle

his fingers in, to hold onto. Soft. Fuck, he didn't remember it
being that soft. His thumb and forefinger rubbed a bit back
and forth, his fingertips tingling. Jacks hummed, jonesing on
the sweet feeling.

His mate headed south, lips soft and hot as hell on his

stomach, tugging the little hairs and making them sting.

"Houston, baby. Making me so hot." Shivery hot. There

was a lot to be said for Houston's mouth.

"Need you." That laugh just suited his ass to the ground,

Houston settled in his own skin.

"Well, good. It would kinda suck otherwise." Oh. Sucking.

He could so go there. Maybe a nice sixty-nine.

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"I kinda suck anyway." Houston got a hold of his cock,

sucking hard.

"Not ... uhn. Not. Shit, baby." Incoherent much? He would

just have to give a little back. He tilted, pulling at Houston to
get him to move those skinny hips around.

Hard and wet-tipped, Houston was ready for him, ready for

his mouth. Jesus fuck. The howl he got when he wrapped his
lips around that full prick just vibrated all around him.

Shaking, Jacks got his hands up around Houston's hips,

encouraging his mate to push as he sucked. They found a
rhythm, sharp and hard, both of them fucking the other,
pushing and pulling and sucking and needing. It went on
forever, but it only lasted minutes. Damn. Fuck. He could feel
it coming.

Houston's nose was in his pubes, throat squeezing around

the tip of his cock.

Jacks shot so hard that he shouted, right there around

Houston's cock, his whole body shaking. Then he did a little
swallowing of his own.

His mate humped him, pushing in deep over and over,

cock jerking as Houston came for him, howling into the air.
The taste was amazing, all salt and earth, and Jacks sucked it
down. He closed his eyes for a second, thanking the universe
for giving him this.

Houston rumbled and grunted, the sounds all about

pleasure and peace and happy.

Moving around to face Houston, he took a kiss, letting it be

lazy and yet toothy. "Fucking love you."

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245

"Mate." Houston grinned, right there with him, happy as

the day was long. His. His mate.

That was all he cared about right now. The rest would wait

until he had to think about it. Later.

* * * *

The truck was there again, waiting, watching. Every hair

on his body stood up and Houston growled, fingers tightening
on the windowsill. "Mate."

He didn't think they could hear him, but he wasn't sure

and he wasn't going to risk it. Come on, Jacks. Here me.

Damned if Jacks didn't hear him, appearing from behind

the shed outside, fading back toward the house like smoke.
From the road, the truck might not see him.

He stared, eyes locked on the people in the cab. Two of

them. One woman. One older man in the passenger side.
Didn't look like soldiers, but they weren't talking, weren't
doing anything but staring at them.

The back door opened, Jackson padding in on bare feet.

"Where's the .22, baby?"

"In the hall closet. Are we going out there?" He wouldn't

look away, wouldn't back down.

"I am. You keep them in sight. I'm going around from the

back; I'll try to get a jump on them. We'll find out why they're
here." Jacks just did everything full tilt. No fear.

"I'll come out through the front, keep their attention."
"You be careful." He was proud that Jacks wasn't telling

him no. That his mate trusted him.

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by Rob Knight

246

"You, too." Their fingers brushed, Jacks squeezing his

pinky just a bit before the backdoor opened and his mate
slipped out. He waited two minutes and headed outside, not
trying to be quiet or subtle.

The truck idled, both of the watchers just ... watching. Not

making a move. His senses seemed super-attuned, because
he thought he could hear Jacks moving out back.

Houston headed for the gate, moving past the cactus,

toward the road. Their road. Their fence.

Jacks thought so, too, because the man moved like

lightning. One moment he wasn't there, the next he was
shoving the rifle barrel through the open driver's side window,
his, "Hold it right there, asshole"," ringing out loud and clear.

Jumping the fence, he made his way to the truck,

growling, the wolf right at the fore. Kill them. He could kill
them both and leave their bodies for the vultures.

One sharp growl from Jacks stopped him in his tracks,

quivering, waiting for the order to attack. But he would wait.
Jacks was the alpha.

"Who in Hell are you and what do you want?" Jacks

snarled.

"We want him." The female pointed at him, face somehow

familiar.

A hair raising sound came from somewhere in Jacks' chest.

"Well, you can't have him, so you'd best move on."

"He was the last one that saw our kin. He was with them.

He's the only one who escaped. We have to know what he
knows."

Oh.

The Call

by Rob Knight

247

Oh, fuck. There had only been two left.
Two.
"Your kin." Sighing, Jacks shook his head. "You're not

government."

"No. No, we just ... we've been following people." A pair of

dog tags were held up; he could smell the blood on them.
"They were hunting you."

"Well, shit." Jacks looked at him, one eyebrow going up.

Asking the question. He understood. Deal with them now or
later, he'd still have to deal with them.

"Did you kill them all?" He stepped closer, sniffing the air.
The big male nodded, teeth bared. "There were six.

Outside of Yuma. Did you know Saraya? She is my wife."

"No. No, I only knew..." He shook his head, suddenly

confused. "What do you want?"

"Come on. At least get your truck out of sight. I'm not sure

I want to let you in our house, but we have the shed." Jacks
jerked his head, motioning for him to come along, making the
two in the truck give them some privacy. "We have to at least
find out about the soldiers they've seen."

"I don't trust 'em. I want them gone, Jackson. I don't want

to talk to them, explain about the others." Explain how he left
them.

"I know, baby. But we have to know how close they are.

How many they might have followed them."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I just ... I didn't stay to..." The two

came close and his lips snapped shut.

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248

"No. You got the fuck out and came home to me." Jacks'

hands landed on his arms, holding so tight the bones creaked.
"Mine. My mate. There was nothing you could do for them."

"No. No." He leaned close, whispered. "There were two

left—both bitches. One was crazed, the other crippled. I had
to leave them."

They would have caught him.
"I know, baby. I know. You did what you had to. Come on,

let's get our guests some water. We'll pick their brains, send
them on their way."

Jacks kissed him, once. Hard, and right on the mouth.
It was enough to settle him, bone-deep. Enough that he

was half-way to the little drink fridge Jacks kept in the
workshop before he shook it off.

The truck pulled around back of the shop, and the two got

out. Jacks stepped in, keeping between them and Houston.

The female was smaller than he expected, the male

obviously wounded, still limping a bit. "We're not interested in
hurting you. We just want our families back."

There wasn't anything left to save.
Jacks saved him the telling on that one. "They're killing

everyone they have. They beat them down and kill them.
Your families are most likely gone. I'm sorry." He could see
Jacks muscle up, get ready for an explosion.

"Most likely?" The woman's eyes burned into him. "How

many where there? How many did they take?"

"I don't know. There were only two left, when I ran. I was

in a room." In a single room. He didn't know.

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"Look, how did you find us?" Jacks asked, stepping in front

of him again, shielding him. "You know what you could bring
down on us?'

"We followed the soldiers. Then, once we killed them, we

followed our noses." The old man snarled. "You just left
them?"

Jacks growled, leaning right down into the old man's face.

"One couldn't run. The other was crazy. They were going to
take his balls." The last came out as a roar. "MY MATE."

"My mate was there! Could be there!" The old man howled,

the sound desperate. "You left them! You didn't even get
them a quick death!"

Houston snapped at the air, the beast demanding out,

even in full sunshine. He'd made his decision. He did what he
could.

One arm slid across his chest, Jacks holding him back. "I'm

sorry about your mate. I am. But he would have died if he'd
set of an alarm trying to get to them, and I won't be sorry for
that." Quiet, determined. Just pure Jacks, those words.

He panted, eyes rolling, the entire world a wash of red,

except for his mate. His Jacks.

"He's changing. How can ... What did they do to him?" The

woman sounded horrified, sick. Shamed.

"What do you think? Now you see. Can you blame him for

anything he would do to get out of there?" Turning, Jacks
grabbed him, holding him, humming a little. Soothing him
until the wolf stopped trying.

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"I could not help them. I would have. I swear to you. I

could not." He met the old man's eyes, refusing to hide from
his shame.

The old man scrubbed one hand over his face, tears

swimming in those rheumy old eyes. "I believe you, son. I
do."

"I'm sorry." He was. For all of them.
"You can still help us," the woman said, eyes hard again.

"Help us find them. Dead or alive, they deserve that."

"Go back?" Everything inside him stopped and not even

Jacks could stop the wolf from breaking free, making him
scream with the sudden change.

No.
No going back.
No more cages.
No more tests.
No more.
His eyes rolled and he crouched, waiting for the others to

move so that he could run.

* * * *

Jacks stopped, scenting the air. Houston was close. He

knew it. He could feel it.

Now if he could just get his mate to stop running.
Soon Houston would need water, would need food to

refuel. When that happened, the wolf might leave him, the
panic going down in the face of practicality. But until then, he
knew Houston would be like a coyote that had almost been hit
by lightning.

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251

He'd sent the others away, but he'd been patient enough

to take their information. To promise he'd call.

Barely.
There. That had to be Houston he'd caught on the wind.

Jacks changed direction, heading for a scree of rock that
marched along an arroyo.

Houston was fading, the run faded into a limping lope that

eased into a walk every few seconds. He could scent shame
and exhaustion on the air, along with the remnants of
mindless terror.

God, he could kill those two who had come. He would have

done the same for Houston, but that didn't change his rage
one bit.

Not one bit.
Those tired eyes saw him and he could see it—see Houston

deciding whether to run or stop, to let him come.

Jacks met them calmly, banking the fire inside, knowing

Houston needed him to be calm. Controlled.

Slow and sure, he went on, moving in close, making no

sudden moves.

Houston called out for him—little chirping barks that let

him know that his mate was done running, knew him. Needed
him.

Jacks rushed the last few yards separating them, pushing

right up against Houston, mingling their scents. Oh. Better.

Mate. Houston leaned against him, full-weight, sounds just

pouring out, offered to him.

Rubbing, pushing, Jacks gave Houston everything, all of

his comfort and love and gratitude. His mate.

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252

Houston relaxed, tongue on his nose, his chin. Love. His.

His.

There. Now he could take Houston home. Show him that

no one else was there. No one but them.

Houston followed, barely holding onto the wolf by the time

they reached the yard.

Jacks pulled Houston with him, murmuring. "Come on,

baby. Come on. A few more steps and there's water, meat."

Houston sniffed, looked, searching for the others, only

entering and relaxing when he knew they were gone. It was
his lover, human and naked and scratched that landed on the
sofa with a plop.

"There you go, baby. Welcome back." Jacks tried for a grin

and fell a little short, but Houston gave him a weak smile, so
it was worth it.

"I'm sorry, Jacks. I couldn't stop it."
"I know. I should have sent them away." He understood

the others, though. He would do anything to find Houston if
he knew his mate was taken.

"No. No, they were." Houston sighed, hands in his hair.

"They have a right to come hunting me."

Jacks crouched down by the couch, hands sliding on that

scarred skin. "No. Not a right. But I would do it, too."

"I'm not a coward, Jacks. I just ... What else could I have

done?" He'd bet Houston'd asked that question thousands of
times.

"Not a goddamned thing." He gave Houston a biting kiss,

making sure he felt the sting. "You came home."

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"I did. I came for you. I had to see you. To tell you I

should have stayed."

Crawling up on the couch, he just wrapped around

Houston, holding on. "You did what you had to. Love you."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yours." Houston eased for him, let him hold

on and heal them both.

"Good. That's the important thing, baby." His lips moved

on Houston's skin, not with intent, really. Just wandering.

"Do we have to go back there?"
"No. No, we don't. Nothing would get me to make you go

back." He'd thought about it. He had. But no. Houston was
the important thing to him.

Houston went boneless, clinging to him. "I know I'm a

coward. I know. It's too big, Jacks."

"No. You're not a coward or you wouldn't be here." God, all

the work he'd done, just gone in an hour. "We'll leave. We'll
find someplace far away..."

"No." Houston bared his teeth, eyes flashing. "No. They

took and took. This place is yours. They can't have what is
yours, mate."

He lifted a hand, cupping Houston's cheek. God, he loved

that fierceness. "You're what's mine, baby. I've just been
biding my time."

Houston pushed into his touch, growling deep and low.

"They can't have what is yours." That was a deep, sweet
satisfaction in that voice.

"No. The rest is all details. You know I just need space to

run. I can get that anywhere. Mexico. Canada. Well, maybe
not Canada."

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by Rob Knight

254

"No. It's cold there. We're not built for that."
"Nope." Joy filled him, just the knowledge that Houston

would go with him making him want to tip up his nose and
howl. Once upon a time, the idea of going farther into the
wilderness had left Houston in a panic. "We'll figure it."

"We will." Houston nudged his jaw. "Mate."
That was all he needed to hear. They'd leave both the

damned government and the worn out pack behind and start
over, just the two of them.

Which was just the way it should have been all along.

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by Rob Knight

255

Contributors
Jourdan Lane
Jourdan Lane currently lives in south Texas with a husband

and three very energetic children. When not playing the part
of referee, maid, household bookkeeper, chef, etc ... she
writes. She does, however, have a fickle Muse that just can't
decide who he likes to play with more. From vampires,
demons, and angels to cowboys and country boys, writing
time is never dull. Her interests are vast and too numerous to
list, but there is one constant: she likes smut, any way you
can serve it up, and has an absolute love of porn.

B.A. Tortuga
B. A. Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life,

with hobbies that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub
dips, and ogling hot guys at the beach. A connoisseur of the
perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty
tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites
in the name of research. Mixing the natural born southern
propensity for sarcasm and the environmental western
straight-shooting sensibility, BA manages to produce
mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure,
unadulterated smut. With characters ranging from
supernatural demons to modern-day cowboys, alternative
illustrated men to Victorian dandies, the addiction to history
and atmosphere is everpresent, and laced through with
sensual pleasure.

Emily Veinglory

The Call

by Rob Knight

256

Hi! I am an animal psychologist by trade and a freelancer

writer/illustrator by inclination. My proudest achievements as
a writer so far has been Torquere Press's acceptance of my
fantasy book 'Broken Sword.' This book reflects many of my
ongoing obsessions including fantasy, homoerotica and
vampires. I have previously written two novellas centred on a
romance between King Arthur and Merlin (published by a
small press called Angelwings Press). My short homoerotic
fiction appears in the 'zine Dark Fantasies #7, the e-zines
Bloodlust-UK and Forbidden Fruit (Issue #5), and Torquere
Press's upcoming anthology 'Chance Encounters'.

I am currently working on a non-fiction book proposal that

would allow me to return to New Zealand and to write full
time. I am also developing two homoerotic werewolf novellas
and book concepts based on the mythological figures of
Chiron and Robin Hood. For more information please visit my
homepage at www.veinglory.com

If you are connected to the Internet, take a

moment to rate this eBook by going back to

your bookshelf at www.fictionwise.com.

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