by J. D. Light
They were definitely waiting on something. And the longer I watched them, the more certain I became that they were members of the cult, and that something terrible was on the verge of happening.
When the one in the gray tank, lifted his shirt to wipe the August sweat from his forehead, I caught sight of an oddly shaped scar, almost like he'd been partially skinned, just above his pant line on his right side.
No longer caring if I drew attention to myself, I yelled for Flynn, already moving toward the two men, who immediately met my eyes at my raised voice. Their faces were surprised for all of a second, and then they were both running toward the gate. The only exit of Flynn's backyard.
When Bennett blocked their path, both stopped dead, probably remembering from training just how terrifying the young man could be, when he fought.
They immediately split up, going different directions, but it didn't matter. As they climbed the fence at two different places, I could hear the distinct sound of Ronny's growl, and Foster's order to his men, not to kill them.
"I don't like that they're inside," Bennett said beside me. "How did they get in if they planned to set off a smoke grenade?"
"I don't know. But I'm positive they were waiting for something." I looked around, trying to figure out where they might have hidden a devise before they walked through the gate with the metal detector set up, but there was nothing around but trees and well-manicured bushes outside the entrance. Definitely not overgrown enough to hide a grenade.
My phone beeped in my pocket, and my heart sank when I saw the SOS from my mate shining brightly back at me from the screen, just before it cracked in my hand.
"It's the chosen!" I screamed, making every leap head turn in my direction, but I was already shifting and tearing through the trees toward Ronny's house, praying the entire time that I wasn't about to come upon the type of scene described in all those newspaper articles Green and Foster had made us read over earlier in the day.
A terrifying roar rent the air, as I rounded the side of Burke and Foster's house, where they lived right next door to Ronny, and a thin body flew through the air from the back door, skidding across the ground.
When the man peeled himself off the ground, I could see that there was an eye patch sitting incorrectly across his forehead. It was probably meant to hide the scarred up area, where I was sure, an eye used to be, but was now nothing but scar tissue and a small hole.
The guy began to shift, just as a giant grizzly came tearing out of the house, anger in every lumbering step.
"Looks like my amazing mate has it under control," Bennett said, already shifted back, standing there naked, blatantly watching as his mate mauled the cheetah.
I shifted too, stalking toward the house, needing to see Davis, and make sure he was completely safe.
Just as I mounted the steps, my mate came stumbling out, holding something in his hand, his eyes wide and his face white. "Ward," he whispered, swallowing to alleviate what must have been a dry throat. "He handed it to me, and pulled the pin out. I don't know where it is."
"Sh, sh, sh." Easing him to me, I looked at the grenade in his hand, my heart sinking. It was just like the ones Foster's team had drawn up of the reconstructed chemical smoke grenade that had been used on the pride. "We'll find it. Just don't let go. You have to keep ahold of it, okay, Hot Stuff?"
"Y…yeah. But my hands are sweating, Ward."
"Everyone," I yelled, making my mate jump. "We need to look for the pin. The bastard pulled it."
"Shit! All chosen, move over to Foster and Burke's house. Thompsyn, that includes you." Flynn's voice was authoritative, and contained more than just a hint of his power. "Everyone else, scour the ground for the pin. We can't let that thing go off."
What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes later, my mate was sobbing against my shirt, as Ronny eased the grenade that had already been secured with the pin he'd found still circling the now dead cheetah's finger, and headed off toward the woods.
No doubt taking the thing to the old fallout shelter that had been built in the late 1950s, The leap now used to keep things like guns and ammo that we rarely used, but might one day need.
"It's over, Hot Stuff. It's all over." I rubbed his back, sinking my fingers into his skin to sooth us both, as I tried desperately not to fall apart. He needed me, right then, and I needed to be strong. Even if my body was shaking so hard, I was struggling to even hold on to him.
"Ward, I thought I was going to kill everyone! I thought I was going to kill you."
"You didn't, baby. You held on. Even when I know it was getting hard. You kept everyone safe, Hot Stuff." And he had.
His hands had been shaking and sweaty, and I know it had to be hard to keep a grip on the thing, but he'd done it. He'd kept the entire leap, who had been there to scour the yard with the rest of us, safe.
"Let's go back to your room, and get some sleep, and then in the morning, we're packing up all your stuff, and checking you out of that room for good. You're coming home with me, and gaining a new family. Do you think you can handle that, Hot Stuff?"
At his nod, I smiled, kissing his tear-streaked cheek. My gorgeous, sexy mate was even beautiful with a splotchy cry face. And I couldn’t wait to prove to him every day for the rest of our long, long lives, just how perfect I found him.
"I love you, Ward."
"I love you too, Hot Stuff."
Epilogue
"Yeah," Sutton said, picking a leaf off of the shrub next to the picnic bench we were sitting at, waiting for our snow-cones, and making a face. "That was definitely the guy who shot those three men in my shop. The one I stabbed in the eye."
"He's dead now, sweet Sutton." Ronny brushed a kiss against his mate's ear, rubbing his arm.
"Definitely dead," Ridley mumbled, making a face. "Pregnant bears like to play with their pray like domestic cats. Who knew?"
"It's a shifter thing," Ward said, next to me, making Bennett throw his head back and cackle.
"No kidding. Do you guys remember when Ward killed Mark? He batted his head around a few times, and then got bored and wandered off."
Nobody was surprised when Bennett yelped. That boy's mate was going to flick that ear clean off one of these days.
"Thanks for that, Benny." Ridley cringed, reaching up to rub his eyes, like he was desperate to get the visual out of his head.
I blinked, trying to keep track of the story. I turned to my mate, waiting for him to say something like, "No, I didn't do that," or anything that might explain the fact that he'd not only killed someone, but played yarn ball with his head, but all he did was scrunch up his face and shrug.
"You killed someone?" I squeaked,
Still making that face that seemed both cringe and reluctant yes, he licked his lips. "Well, yeah. He was about to torture Ridley."
"Oh." Deciding I wasn't quite sure how I felt about all that, and not really wanting to analyze the part of myself that was actually kinda proud of the man for killing someone, and saving Ridley, I decided to focus my attention back on Arry, who'd been eyeing the new snow-cone vendor, like he was the flavor he'd been waiting for.
"Okay, sorry guys!" The very man said, coming to a dramatic stop next to my side of the table, and handing Ward and me, our delicious concoctions, turning to smile at all the newcomers to our table. "What can I get y…you?"
His eyes had landed on Arry, and I seriously felt like I was watching a young, thin blond man fall in love. He was awestruck. His beautiful aqua blue eyes were stuck on Arry's darker blue ones.
I snickered, and the blonde's attention shot to me. Smiling, he shrugged and rolled his eyes. I liked the guy immediately. It was clear already from our short interaction, that he was definitely confident, but could also laugh at himself, and the fact that he'd just been rendered speechless.
Bennett, Thompsyn and Sutton ordered snow-cones, while Ronny and Green opted for muffins, and Rory smiled shyly and asked for a water with a lemon. Ridley and Flynn had sat
this one out, because Ridley's bump was more than just a little visible, and it couldn't really be passed off as a beer belly anymore, and Burke and Foster were probably doing naughty things to each other.
Or at least, that is what it sounded like was happening when Burke answered Sutton's call earlier. The cute little Asian had cringed and practically thrown the phone at Ronny, who'd simply hung up and shook his head in answer to whether or not they'd be joining us.
"And you, 1998?" The pretty man was looking at Arry again.
Arry chuckled, "1998, huh? Weren't you still an egg baking inside your mom's fallopian tube in 1998?"
Still smiling, the blonde rolled his eyes. "Whatever Ninty Eight Degrees and Out of Sync. Can I get you something? Snow-cone? Muffin? Puka shell necklace?"
"Sounds great. But all I really want, is to know why you look like Captain America before he got the serum."
Stepping closer to the grinning black man, the model-handsome blonde faux glared down at Arry. "Hmm. Probably because some of us are perfectly happy with our bodies, and––" Reaching out, he poked Arry in the pec with his pen. "Don't want our ding dongs to shrink."
Snatching the pen, Arry poked him back, going for a rib, and making the blonde giggle, before he pulled back, like he was offended he'd made that noise.
"Look," Arry said, laughing. "It's every snarky little city boy who clichéd the TV."
It was kind of amazing to watch, as the two squared off with not too stinging barbs. Both confident enough in themselves to not be offended by the other.
"I think it's balls," I said, quietly, just as the man who'd snatched back his pen, was about to say something else to the smiling man, looking at him like he was the best thing he'd ever seen.
"What is, cutie?" The blonde asked me instead, still smiling.
I blushed, realizing I'd done it again. "I think your balls are supposed to shrink, not your…"
Snickering, he bumped my shoulder with his hip. "You can say ding dong, here. I won't throw you off my lawn, I swear."
"Yay!" Bennett said, standing for a moment. "Ding Dongs!"
Smiling self-deprecatingly, I confessed, "I better not. Once I take the lid off of the box, I apparently can't stop talking about them."
Everyone laughed, knowing I was speaking from experience.
"Oh, cutie. Don't box up your ding dongs." He laughed, patting me on the shoulder. "I'm Marlow, by the way."
We all went around the table, introducing ourselves.
"Don't leave me hanging, 1998. What, pray-tell, is your name?" Marlow smiled down at the man, again, more than a little smitten.
"Arlington Martin, but everyone calls me Arry." He ran his eyes over Marlow's lean body. "I think I like 1998, though."
Licking his lips, Marlow blinked and then cleared his throat. "Okay then. What can I get you?"
"Just a green apple snow-cone. If you don't mind, Blondie."
"Right away, 1998." He put his pen and pad away, and reached up and tweaked one of Arry's dreads, before sauntering back to the food truck.
Arry's eyes never left that backside, and I couldn't help but giggle.
"Damn," he said, after Marlow had disappeared behind the door. "I'm going to have my hands full." But the smile on his face said he didn't care a bit.
"Mate?" Ward asked, chuckling a little.
"Mate," Arry said on a happy sigh.
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Blondie's 1998 with a Goat
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(The following has not been properly edited yet.)
Chapter One
"Here you go, guys. Four amazing snow-cones, two crumble muffins and an ice water with lemon." He gave me the smirky up, down, when he sat my green apple snow-cone in front of me. "Go easy, 1998. I make a great green apple. I don't want you giving yourself a brain-freeze.
Fuck, he was sexy. I was dying to taste that smirk on his plush mouth.
I smiled, wanting to say something back, but the awe of the situation was starting to hit me. And the fact that this was my mate, in the flesh, serving me a green apple snow-cone that did in fact smell amazing, and he was perfection personified.
I had been confused and then amazed when I finally realized what was happening only ten minutes before. I'd watched him flit around the smattering of picnic tables at the park, and thought he was the most beautiful, gorgeous thing, I'd ever seen.
He'd bent over a time or two to deliver a treat to the other customers of his food truck, and I'd watched the tight pull of those cutoff sweat pants, and nearly popped the seam of my jeans.
The air outside had stirred the breeze, so I hadn't realized that delicious smell that made my mouth water when it kept sweeping by me, was coming from an actual person, until it got stronger as the gorgeous man approached.
I nearly growled, when it felt like my entire body had been shocked at once by that stupid hotwire fence I always managed to run into, outside the smelly feedlots that separated Purdy from another tiny town I usually ran to when I was having one of my bad days.
I looked him over again, as he continued to set stuff down in front of the person who ordered it, wanting a peek at more of his lean, lithe form. He was stunning. No way to deny it. I'd seen models who looked homely compared to him. Both in face and in body.
I couldn't help but wonder what a guy like him was doing in a tiny place like Purdy, running a food truck, and serving snow-cones, when he should probably be working in some big city, posing provocatively in some barely there briefs, and making tons of money.
Trying not to growl at both the image that made in my head, and the idea that everyone would be able to see it, I cleared my throat, and took a deep breath. I'd made fun of the mated couples in my pack for a lot less than getting jealous of an imaginary scenario.
"Do you own the truck, Blondie?"
Glancing at me, as he sat a muffin down in front of Ronny, he nodded. "My brother and I do. It's kind of a new endeavor."
"Why do I feel like I know you?" Davis leaned his head to the side, squinting his eyes at my mate, tapping his index finger to his mouth.
"Uh, how's your snow-cone?" His face was completely impassive, like he hadn't been affected by the question at all.
If it weren't for the fact that I was watching him so closely, and sniffing him like I was, I wouldn't have seen the small flinch in his eyes, or caught the barely perceptible change in his scent.
He was suddenly a bit nervous, but was doing an excellent job of hiding it.
"It's amazing! What exactly is in a Killer Clown?" Davis licked his red lips, and I swear I heard Ward get an erection.
We all heard him groan. Including his mate, who smirked and elbowed him.
"Green apple, silver fox, and banana on the bottom layer, and then lots and lots of cherry to make it as bloody as possible." He snickered. "But maybe I should have held off on the cherry a bit. You're man is about to have an aneurism."
Davis blushed and rolled his eyes, while the rest of us chuckled. Including Ward, who leaned forward and pecked Davis's plump lips.
"As freaking cute as that all is, I have to get back. If I don't, my brother will try to use my snow-cone machine. I'm still finding tiger's blood syrup in the strangest places from the last time."
Marlow gave me one more long look, before shaking his cute little ass all the way back to the truck.
"Damn," I whispered, watching the damn thing until it disappeared.
I saw him a couple times after that, running from the truck to the tables, and back again. Did he always wait on people? That seemed like more than w
as necessary for a food truck, but maybe he thought it would keep the business going.
Seeing a tip jar on the side of the truck, that really looked to have a sad amount of tips, especially for someone running around to the degree he was, I made my way over to the truck and dug a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket. I dropped it inside, and started to turn, when a voice similar, but not quite Marlow's stopped me.
"You don't have to do that." The voice was quiet, unsure, and when I looked through the tiny window, I was surprised to see a man with very similar features to that of my mate. "I know he looks like a crazy person running around like that, but he has to stay busy. I guess its just part of always having a super busy life style before. He just doesn't know how to slow down."
Smiling, I waved at the kid, noting that though it was obvious they were twins, the way they carried themselves and definitely the way they dressed, couldn't be more different.
"You must be the brother. I'm Arlington, but you can call me Arry."
Smiling back, but ducking his head, the not-so-exact replica of my mate nodded. "I'm Bentley. I like to hide out in here. He's so good with people. I'm better with baked goods." He grabbed a basket of muffins with his left hand and raised it in the air.
When he lowered it back down, I noticed his right arm. The best way to say it was that part of it was missing. It stopped just below the bend of the elbow, where his shirt hung limp.
When he noticed me looking, he quickly hid it behind his back, making me fell like the biggest ass.
"I'm sorry. That was super rude of me. This isn't going to sound any better than me standing there staring like an ass made me look, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was…yeah, that sounds horrible, actually." Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "I'm starting to sound like Davis. If I start saying dick, cock, or dildo incessantly, feel free to slam the window in my face."
Snickering, he brought his arm back around. "It just caught your eye? Something didn't look right and you did a double take?" At my cringe and nod, he smiled and shrugged. "I get it. We all look twice when something doesn't quite add up."