by Marcy Jacks
Strange, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe the hunters had gone out hunting. He had no idea, but Mick wouldn’t try to swap theories with Jason while they were making their
escape.
“You ready?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” Jason admitted.
Mick took a second to observe his mate, listening to his heartbeat and breathing. It impressed him, the way Jason seemed to be handling the situation, considering everything that was happening. Had Jason been a werewolf, his personality, so far, suggested he would be an omega, which made his ability to stay calm that much more amazing.
His heart was still hammering pretty hard. Mick would have to watch that, making sure Jason didn’t leave the green zone and go into red during their escape.
He’d just found his mate. He’d like to leave with him alive, thank you very much.
“Okay, I’ll be right beside you if anything goes wrong.” Jason smiled weakly at him, though Mick could still sense how grateful the other man was for the support.
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 27
Then they started their climb.
By no means had Mick been able to reach high enough that they would be able to climb right out, but once he got to the top, where the marks from his claws stopped, he was sure that he could just propel himself the rest of the way with a strong leap.
To do that, he would have to wait until Jason climbed to the top of the claw marks as well. Then he would jump without fear that the chain would run out of slack, and he would pull Jason up the rest of
the way.
Brilliant.
All he had to do was let Jason catch up to him.
Jason was a human, and not a very athletic one from the looks of it, but he was hardly scrawny. Climbing a ladder should be cake for him, but this was not a ladder. These were scratch marks in the wall
that he was clinging to, and his toes barely fit into the claw marks
Mick had made for him.
Needless to say, for a human, it was a struggle.
“You’re doing good. We’re about halfway up,” Mick said,
reaching for the next line and pulling himself just a little higher.
Jason’s breathing had gone hard, the effort to keep himself pressed so closely to the wall getting to him. Mick was strong, but if Jason fell, he would be pulled backward into the pit with him.
“Doing great. Don’t give up.”
Jason blew out a hard breath that disturbed the grey dust on the wall, and Mick was able to breathe easier when he reached for the
next long claw mark.
It was like that for a good ten minutes. It should have taken Mick
five seconds to climb it, but with Jason, things moved slower.
Now he really understood Deacon’s reason to chain him to a human. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it would slow them down should they try to escape.
Then Mick climbed as high as he could go, clung to the wall for four minutes so Jason could catch up, and they both looked at each
28 Marcy Jacks
other and laughed.
“Christ, that was hard,” Jason said, pressing his forehead against the cement wall, likely because it felt cool against his hot skin. Every inch of his exposed flesh gleamed with sweat, and his breathing came out in short and fast spurts through his mouth.
“You did so good, baby. The rest I can do now.”
Jason turned to look at him and smiled. “Thank God.”
Mick laughed then looked above himself, judging the rest of the height they needed to travel. Only another five feet or so. If that. He could definitely do this.
Mick braced himself, licked his lips, prayed to God, and then launched himself up.
Fuck, he wasn’t going to make it! But then he reached out and caught the ledge with his fingertips.
“Holy shit,” he breathed. For a second there, he was sure he wasn’t going to make it and would fall back in.
“Mick? You all right?”
He looked down below him. Jason’s nose was pressed firmly against the wall. He didn’t dare look up lest he lost his balance.
“I’m fine, hang on,” Mick pulled himself up and over the ledge with a small grunt, then got onto his knees and gripped the chain as hard as he could.
“Okay, if you can, grab the chain and hold on tight. I’m going to lift up you.”
There was a shuffle and a scrape. “Got it.”
Good. Mick pulled, and in five hard tugs, Jason was coming up and over the ledge.
The guy pulled himself over and lay on his stomach like a sailor who’d found land. “Oh, my God, thank you so much.”
Whether he was thanking Mick or God, he didn’t know.
“Come on, we’re not out of this yet,” Mick said, grabbing Jason by his unchained hand and pulling him up.
“Damn,” Jason muttered but shakily got to his feet anyway.
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 29
“This is going to make a lot of noise,” Mick said, lifting his hand so that the clink of the links in their chain would rattle. In the quiet space, it only seemed to be that much louder. “We have to be careful to keep it tight and stay as quiet as possible. Chained together like this, we don’t want any fights.”
Jason swallowed and nodded eagerly on that bit of advice.
Right. The guy probably had never been in a fight before in his entire life.
“Let’s get out of here.”
They went to the door first. It was the only door in the room, and it was metal, huge, and gray.
Before, down when they were in the pit, Mick had scented some sort of earthy, wet smell that made him think of a basement, but being that far underground, couldn’t tell for sure. Now that he was up here, looking at the high windows and with the distinctive smell still in the air, he knew they were indeed still underground.
That made getting out that much harder.
“Wait,” Jason whispered, pointing at the windows that Mick had just dismissed. “The windows. I can see the stars. We can get out from there.”
“I wouldn’t be able to fit through them,” Mick said gently.
Jason opened his mouth then closed it again as the logic of Mick’s words struck him. They were still chained together and were in this together for however long that remained the same.
“Get to the side of the door,” Mick said, padding over to it with his new partner and, keeping his back pressed firmly into the wall, reached for the handle.
He knew it would shriek loudly. He’d heard it when Deacon left them alone the last time, but now that they were trying to keep as quiet as possible, it seemed to grate on the ears, that much louder than it had been before.
Unbelievable.
Still, no one came.
30 Marcy Jacks
Jason nudged him and, not daring to speak out loud, had mouthed, “Anyone there?”
Mick peeked through the crack, pulled his head back before he could be seen, then looked once more, longer this time, just to be sure he’d seen that right.
There was someone there. One person. And in the classical style of incompetent minions, the guy was relaxing in his chair, feet up on a desk, facing away from the door, and was bobbing his head to whatever music he had playing through those headphones in his ears.
What a fucking moron.
Mick turned back to Jason, lifting his finger to show that there was indeed one person out there, and then he put that finger to his lips and started tiptoeing out, trusting that his mate would follow him. The chain would not give them enough slack for Mick to kill that hunter without Jason nearby.
They crept along. The chain only made minimal sounds between them, but the idiot who was supposed to be guarding them wouldn’t have noticed if the building was falling down around him.
He certainly didn’t notice that Mick was behind him until he had his hands on the man’s jaw, and by then it was too late.
Mick dropped the body, let
ting it sag back into the swivel chair, music still blaring. Mick walked around and slid the man’s eyelids shut to feign sleep. Maybe that would buy them some more time.
He looked up, and Jason Snowe was as pale as his last name suggested and trembling, and his heart rate had gone up.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Jason, I had to do it,” he said, knowing that Jason could very
likely decide he didn’t give a shit and go into shock.
He nodded instead. “I know.”
Thank God for that. Mick took him by the hand, and they made their way down the cold hallway. The air was so chilled that, even though it was still summer, Mick could feel the way Jason’s skin pebbled up under his hand.
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 31
They had to get out of here. Figure out where they were, find some kind of shelter, and then Mick had to get back to the pack before James launched into an attack that could potentially kill several of their members.
They walked on their toes but kept their pace brisk. There was no one else. Now Mick was really beginning to think that the others had gone. Maybe out to deliver the message to James personally? It would make sense, considering they’d left only one person behind.
The hallway they were in was a huge thing, with more cement lining and dangling fluorescent bulbs above their heads, that appeared as though a huge truck could drive through. And it was at a slope, leading up, until they finally made it to a pair of giant metal sliding doors.
“I think this is it,” Jason said. “I heard screeching metal when the van stopped for a bit. I think this is the way out.”
“Good job,” Mick said, gripping his hand tighter and running full force to it. Now his heart was the one to start pumping, the idea of freedom exciting him, and the scent of fresh air was already lingering near the doors.
They were locked, but that didn’t matter. Mick wouldn’t be strong enough to break down the sliding doors, but the little door built into them, used when a person wanted to come and go, as opposed to a large vehicle, was a piece of cake to kick in.
His skin pebbled as the night air washed over him, and he suddenly didn’t feel so dirty. He sucked in a large breath of cool air through his mouth, and it was as refreshing as any glass of water.
Fresh night air, grass, trees, freedom. He sighed in bliss.
Jason was doing the same. He wasn’t a werewolf with heightened senses, but he was still able to appreciate the gift.
“Are we safe now?”
Mick took in another breath, through his nose this time. He scented the exhaust fumes from trucks, the hunters who’d taken them,
and Deacon. The scent was still fresh, but that didn’t mean they
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wouldn’t be back soon and find their friend dead.
“No, we need to keep moving.” But the problem with that was that Jason was tired, and they were still chained together.
“Get onto my back,” Mick said.
Jason’s eyes went wide. “What?”
Mick got down onto his knees, giving Jason his back. “Climb on, hold on, and do whatever you can to keep that silver bit you’re wearing from touching my skin. I’ll run with you for as long as I’m able.”
Jason hesitated, and Mick was about to command him to hurry before he felt the distinctive warm touch of Jason’s bare chest
pressing against Mick’s back.
Right. He’d forgotten that he was naked and that Jason was nearly so. He couldn’t help the way his prick swelled. The need to stake his claim was a loud, inward demand that his body wanted to obey.
Not yet.
“Do you know where we are?”
Mick looked to the sky, noting the stars. “Soon I will,” and he took off running, Jason making a tiny squeak of shock from behind him.
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 33
Chapter Six
James DeWitt, alpha werewolf and leader of his pack, had to signal to Adam, one of the lower alphas, to stop Isaac before he could pull out one of his guns and shoot Deacon in the face.
Isaac was a human, and probably the only former hunter in existence to be made welcome within a werewolf pack.
That was only because he was mated to an omega within James’s ranks, the omega Deacon was lusting after and wanted James to hand over in exchange for Mick, James’s best friend’s, life.
Tristan.
It really was too early in the morning to be dealing with this.
“I’m going to make sure you die this time, you fucking piece of dog shit!” Isaac snarled. The guy had one of the worst mouths James had ever heard. Kind of appropriate at the moment.
“If you kill him, then we’ll never find Mick.” Or the human Deacon had taken just to be cruel.
James couldn’t take weeks with his war planning, because there was no way he was going to hand Tristan over this this asshole. Not like he’d done the last time.
A search-and-rescue party would have to be sent out, Christ, ten minutes ago if he hoped to find Mick any time soon.
He should never have let Mick go off hunting all alone. He should have gone with him, like he was supposed to.
“He’s too far away, James. You will never sniff him out,” Deacon said, as though reading his thoughts. “And Mickey will never be able to escape my prison without my say-so, not with how I’ve set it up.”
“Let me kill him, James,” Isaac said, his hands twitching to pick
34 Marcy Jacks
up the Glocks that were holstered at his hips. The twins, Eli and Eric, had to come forward and stand close to him, should Isaac decide to
fight against Adam.
Their normally cheerful faces were all alpha at the moment, ready to spring on Isaac, or Deacon, should James order it. Morgan was out there in the woods, keeping watch from a distance, like he preferred to do.
“Does it bother you that Tristan bears my bite?” Deacon said, sneering the words at Isaac. “That I have already marked him as mine? Do you look at that wound on his neck every time you fuck him? I am always with you, you know.”
Adam had to grab Isaac by the shoulders again before he could launch himself at Deacon in an attempt at another brawl, and Eli and Eric did have to step in and help. James pressed his lips together, suppressing a glare at his newest friend, despite what an idiot he was being.
Isaac had been shot just four weeks ago, and his human body was still healing from that ordeal. Not to mention that he walked with a small limp now and would never be able to take on a werewolf in a hand-to-hand fight like that.
Deacon laughed at Isaac’s rage. He’d come alone, but the leverage he carried was enough that he was more than protected, and James knew it.
“I love what you’ve done with the place, James,” Deacon said, looking over their shoulders at the piles of lumber they were using to fix up the old cottages, and even build some new ones. “Strapped for cash, the last I heard. Who’s funding your little project here?”
It was none of his business that Isaac was the one doing this for
them.
“Your terms aren’t going to change?” James asked. He felt Isaac’s
eyes burning into the side of his head, but he ignored it.
“I want what’s mine,” Deacon said, glaring.
James nodded. “Give us a couple of hours to think it over.”
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 35
“You have one,” Deacon said, raising his finger, as though James didn’t know what one meant. “One hour. If I don’t have my prize by then, Mickey dies. If I so much as catch the faintest of scents of any of your wolves following me, he dies. Then I’ll send my new hunter friends over here to meet you just for shits and giggles.”
“Fine,” James said with a glare.
Deacon grinned and shifted, the process taking a good ten seconds, then ran through the trees with a speed James wouldn’t have thought he possessed, considering the time it took for him to get into his wolf form.
�
��There’s no way in hell we’re handing Tristan over,” Isaac said, immediately rounding on James.
That was the only annoying thing about having a human in your pack. They didn’t have the same respect for his status that the rest of the wolves did.
“Of course not. But we needed to buy some time.”
“Will he know if you send Adam to follow him?” Isaac asked.
James nodded and rubbed his hand over his scarred face. “Yes, the
wind is at his back. He might change direction at any time, but for now we have to wait until I send someone sniffing after him. Until then, however, I can send someone to track Mick’s scent from where
he disappeared. It wasn’t that long ago that his scent would vanish completely, and we might get an idea of where they took him. Which direction at least,” he added.
Isaac nodded, apparently satisfied with that plan. “Okay, I’m going to wake Tristan up.”
James nodded. “Yeah, he’ll need to know what’s happening.”
“Not just that,” Isaac said over his shoulder. “Apparently, I have one hour to teach him how to fire a gun with silver bullets in it.”
James shook his head. Fucking hunters.
* * * *
36 Marcy Jacks
By the time dawn cracked, Mick had long since grown tired, and he’d only been running for maybe two and a half to three hours.
Though Jason tried, it was difficult for him to hang on to Mick’s neck without letting the silver pair of handcuff’s touch Mick’s skin. More than once he’d had to adjust his position on Mick’s back, andmore than once Mick had been burned by the silver.
It felt like getting a sudden horsefly bite. Sharp and quick, and hurt like a bitch.
It wouldn’t be anything Mick couldn’t handle if it wasn’t so draining on his energy. He’d lost his momentum about twenty minutes ago, and soon was only proceeding at the speed of a brisk walk.
“I said stop! Let me down, you’re tiring yourself out,” Jason snapped into his ear for the second time, and Mick was in no mood to argue. He stopped.