by Marcy Jacks
For the fun of it, he kept on fucking him with his fingers, enjoying the way Jason pushed back and made little openmouthed pants as his eyes fell shut.
Okay, blue balls were returning, so that was enough of that. Mick removed his fingers and positioned his cock.
He pushed inside about an inch or so, stopped, pulled back a little, pushed in some more, stopped, and then repeated that process until he
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was balls deep in Jason’s ass, his entire body trembling from the need to keep going and another orgasm that was just within sight.
Jason was still good about keeping the arm that had the silver on it up and away from Mick while they were like this, but he did have a pretty strong grip as he grabbed Mick by the neck and snarled into his ear. “Drill me.”
Aye, aye, Captain!
Mick’s body went on autopilot with the need to obey, and he pumped his hips with all the strength and precision as though there was a machine inside of him that was in charge of his movements.
Jason threw his head back and moaned, gripping the headboard above him with the silver-shackled hand and reaching down with his
free one to stroke his cock.
Right, after all the teasing, this was not going to be some drawn-out thing. Mick moved his hips back and forth, creating more of that push and pull that punched their flesh together, until Jason opened his mouth and released a half-held-back cry of release.
Mick didn’t stop, knowing that he was drawing out Jason’s release, and he was so close to his own, so close to bonding them
together properly, forever.
Then he was there, and he had to bite down on the pillow beside his lover just to keep from roaring out his release too loudly.
He still pumped his hips in jerky movements, until he’d finally finished and was able to comfortably collapse on top of Jason.
His mate. Jason was his, and he would be Jason’s forever.
Now that he’d gotten the proper release he’d been so aching for, his body was ready to fall back into recovery mode. He’d damn near passed out when he heard Jason’s sleepy proclamation.
“We are doing that again.”
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 47
Chapter Seven
Maybe it was just because of the night he’d had or the silver he’d been unintentionally poisoned with, but Mick didn’t wake up again until the sun was in the middle of the sky. That meant he’d slept for
nearly six hours.
Six hours, and still no one had found them here. Maybe if the hunters were looking, they were avoiding the camper, thinking that a bunch of humans were nearby.
Whatever the reason, Mick was happy to snuggle closer to his snoozing lover, gently wake him so that they could have another slow, lazy go, which Jason was still more than willing to cooperate with.
By now Mick had come to realize that Jason was not going to simply go back to his normal life, whatever that had been. Jason would follow him, even after the chains came off. And Mick never
felt happier.
That happiness made him soft, and he was still lying with Jason in his arms, spooned up behind him, when he should have been making plans to get back to his pack.
“I should meet your family,” Mick said after a time. “I wouldn’t want them knowing what I am, but they’ll at least need to meet me to know who their son is with.”
Even before he finished that sentence, he could feel the way Jason tensed up in his arms.
Clearly, that wasn’t a good idea. “What’s wrong?” Mick asked.
“I don’t have a family,” Jason answered quietly.
Mick puzzled over that. “Everyone has family. What about your friends?”
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“Don’t have any of those either,” Jason muttered.
That was right. Deacon was being a prick about announcing how Jason lived alone, but Mick had thought that there had to be someone somewhere that Jason knew.
The topic was clearly upsetting him, but Mick couldn’t leave it
alone.
“What happened to them?”
Jason hesitated. “You haven’t known me long enough for me to be dumping baggage onto you.”
“It’s not baggage. You’re mine and I’m yours. I want to be there for you whenever you need me,” Mick said. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll be upset if you need to keep a few things to yourself. Everyone’s allowed to have their secrets.”
Jason half turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Really?”
“Of course. I’m a werewolf. We wouldn’t be able to survive if we
didn’t keep secrets from people,” he said. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have any family either. I came into my pack pretty young, met James when we were still kids, before he was the alpha, and he brought me to his pack, and that’s where I’ve stayed. They’re the closest thing I have to a family.”
“Do you love them?” Jason asked.
Mick was becoming worried over how small Jason’s voice was becoming. “Yes.”
“They won’t be mad at you for bringing me back?”
“What? No. Why would they?”
Jason sighed. “Because I’m a guy.” The way he said it made it out as though Mick should have known better.
Then he understood. “Jason, did your family disown you?”
Jason nodded. “Yeah. Little hard to be a gay Catholic in a small town, you know? Everyone knows everyone else’s secrets.”
“Baby, I’m sorry that happened to you. But James took a male mate. Corey. Everyone likes them just fine. Tristan even has a male mate, and that guy is a former hunter, and they’re still welcome.”
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 49
Jason released a long breath then turned around in Mick’s arms, kissing him. “Okay.”
Mick smiled at him, his body getting ready to do some more claiming, when his nose caught a foreign scent.
Jason saw the look on his face, but Mick lifted his finger to his mouth, signalling to Jason for quiet.
He nodded.
The grabbed the chain between them for minimal noise and shifted their way to the window. The curtains were heavy, and the windows were shut. No one from either side would be able to see
through them.
Mick lifted back the heavy material just a fraction to peek outside.
Just as slowly, to keep the curtain from moving too much, he put it back into place when his eyes confirmed what his nose had picked
up.
The hunters were outside.
Which made Mick the biggest fucking idiot in the universe. They should have left when they had the chance. If Mick hadn’t slept so long…
He’d kick his ass over that one later. They needed to get out of here, and to do that, they both needed to at least put on some clothes.
Lifting three fingers and jerking his thumb toward the window, Mick let Jason in on how many were outside searching around the camper. Christ, one of them could notice the broken door latch any second now.
The first order of business was slinking back to the tiny drawers that were under the bed. They couldn’t put on any of the shirts or jackets, Mick didn’t think any of them would fit him anyway, but Jason was able to fit into a pair of jeans he’d found while Mick slipped into some joggers. Thankfully, the old runners Jason found also matched his feet.
Good. He would need to run in a second.
There was only one way out that they could both use quickly, and
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that was the door Mick had broken. There was no choice for it. They
would have to use it.
Mick took Jason by the hand and pulled him to the front of the camper. Before they could even open the door, Mick jerked Jason to a stop.
One of the men was outside, walking around, his heavy boots crunching in the pine needles and old leaves outside. Then he stopped in front of the door. He was looking at it.
Mick grabbed the hand
le and pushed the door open. He used enough force that when it came into contact with the hunter’s face he went down hard.
Of course, the noise would be heard. “Hey, Steve? You all right?”
one of the other hunters called.
Mick had no time to wait around. He jumped out of the trailer just as the other hunters came around from the other side of the camper. He grabbed the gun hanging loosely in Steve’s hand, pointed, and shot.
He was a werewolf, not a sniper, and he was lucky to have hit them at all, let alone have actually fired the thing. The men dropped, but it took about a millisecond for Mick to realize that they’d only done so to get out of the way of the coming bullets, not because he’d killed them.
Then they were pointing the black barrels of their own weapons at
him.
“Run!” He and Jason bolted away from the camper just as the rainstorm of bullets came hurtling after them. Shouts of vengeance called after them as he and Jason ran through the trees, using them for
cover.
He hadn’t been hit, but Jason!
Mick chanced a look behind him to make sure that his mate
wasn’t struggling.
He wasn’t. His face was pale, but that was to be expected, and
there was no blood spurting out of him from anywhere. He hadn’t
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 51
been hit either.
The hunters had started to chase after them, however, shouts and
bullets following them through the shrubs.
He knew the slope was coming before he reached it but hadn’t thought to stop at a proper distance for Jason to not get pulled down it.
He went down, and their chain kept them together, rolling and becoming tangled.
“Fuck!” Jason hissed when they finally stopped.
“Come on, we’ve gotta go,” Mick said.
“Wait! The gun!” Jason pulled against Mick as he tried to grab on to him and resume their race for their lives.
“Leave it!”
But he wouldn’t. Jason reached out and snatched the weapon just as Mick managed to get them back to their feet, and they were running once more.
“We’re going to skin you alive!” the men called with hyena-like laughs from behind.
“Stop here! Stop here!” Jason said, pulling them toward a leafy shrub.
Mick had no idea what he was on about, but against his better judgement, he did it anyway, diving inside the plant and hiding amongst the shrubs.
Mick felt pretty stupid trying to keep his body mass hidden within the little tree. “What are we doing?”
Jason, however, was playing around with the gun. He pulled the clip out, checked it, and then pushed it back inside the magazine. “Two left,” he said.
“You know how to use that?”
Jason managed to grin at him. “Everyone and their mother packs a gun in my old town,” he said then pointed the weapon through the leaves.
“Christ,” Jason muttered, blowing out a breath.
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He got a head shot on the first hunter to come within shooting distance. The man’s neck flew back as though he’d been punched, and then he went down.
The next hunter came through, looked down at his friend, and then pulled out a mean-looking shotgun and just started firing it off, shrieking his rage.
Jason got him, too, smack in the middle of his forehead.
When he dropped the gun, his hands were trembling.
Mick took a hold of them and tried to rub some warmth into them.
“You had to do it,” he said.
“Not the same as shooting an air rifle at a carnival,” he said.
With two hunters dead and one knocked out by the camper, that left only one remaining. He came through the trees, looked down at the men there, and then bolted in the other direction before anyone else could blow his head off.
Smart move. If only the dumb bastard knew they were out of
bullets.
They waited another sixty seconds to be safe, and then Mick took Jason by the hand and pulled them out of their hiding spot. “Come on, we need to go.”
“Right.”
“Do you need me to carry you again?”
“If it will get us to where we need to go any faster, sure. Otherwise I think it would do me some good to walk for a bit.”
Right. It wasn’t every day a normal human was required to kill someone to survive.
“We walk for twenty minutes, and then I’ll carry you.”
“What about—?” Jason lifted the chain between them. The
always-present reminder that the silver on Jason’s end was poisonous to Mick in larger doses .
“I can handle it for the rest of the way. This place smells familiar. I think I’m almost home.”
“Thank God,” Jason said. “I could use a drink.”
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 53
Water, he meant, not any alcohol, considering the last time they’d had water was in their shower more than six hours ago.
Just to make sure he could relax, though, Mick would hook him up with something strong from James’s liquor cabinet anyway.
* * * *
Deacon picked up the hunter, the only remaining one to come back from the search party alive, by the neck and legs, heaved him over his head, and tossed him into the cement pit where Mick and that fucking human were supposed to still be.
The scream the hunter made on his descent was cut off with a loud
crack upon his landing, and the heavy scent of thick blood wafted up
from the hole.
“How hard is it to catch two chained prisoners!” Deacon shrieked down at him, as though the man were still alive. “They’re chained together for fuck’s sake! You’re a goddamn hunter!”
He took in a deep breath to calm himself, having gotten his fit of yelling out of his system. Then, just to make himself feel a little better, he kicked in the metal doors leading into the room until they broke clean off.
“Surrounded by idiots, I swear to Christ,” he muttered.
There were still a couple of hunters left. Deacon hadn’t put all of his eggs in one basket like that by sending them all out on a single search party. For fuck’s sake, the only reason why the hunters bothered with taking orders from him at all was because of the deal he’d struck with them to help lead them to every pack he knew about in the area. All they had to do was help him to take back one omega that was rightfully his, and he would give them the location of the pack that they wanted revenge on for the deaths of so many of their fellow hunters.
Of course, he knew better than to trust them completely. They were hunters, after all. The moment Deacon gave them the right
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location, they would blow his head off and burn his remains. That’s just what hunters did, but he’d been planning for that. He knew that was what they were going to do, and the moment he had what he wanted, Tristan, he would have left them with nothing more than a map with an X on it, marking the spot where James’s pack was located to prevent them from following him.
He hadn’t wanted the hunters dead while he could still use them.
He’d been pissed to come back and find Mick and that human of his missing but still hadn’t panicked much over it. They were chained together, and there was silver on the human’s end, all the silver the hunters could melt together to make those handcuffs. How far could they have gone?
Far enough, apparently.
All was not yet lost, though. James thought he still had Mick, and Deacon still had a couple of hunters to work with.
His plans were going to have to change a little, but that was all right. Everything was going to be okay.
Handcuffed to the Werewolf 55
Chapter Eight
When Jason was feeling up to it, Mick had kept to his word and decided to carry him the rest of the way.
The amazing thing that he totally hadn’t expected was for Mick
to transform into a werewolf, haunch down, and for Jason to ride on top of his back.
Unfortunately, the chain remained firmly placed around his paw, and appeared even tighter around the skin now that the arm, paw, whatever that part of a wolf was, had gotten just a little bit thicker.
Mick could still not break free of it, so Jason had climbed on
board.
He felt like he was riding an overly large horse, and with all the extra space, plus all that hair to cling to, it was a little bit easier keeping the silver handcuffs from touching down on Mick’s back. Every once in a while Jason’s arm would get tired, and he’d look down to the smell of burning hair, seeing the way the silver had destroyed it, and he would yank his arm away before any more damage could be done or the burning could reach the skin. Thankfully he’d thought to keep the gray joggers Mick had taken with him after he’d made the transformation, and quickly wrapped the pants around his wrist to keep that from happening again.
Mick seemed much easier on this ride though, despite the burns, and he wasn’t kidding about almost being home. This time, less than two hours after he transformed and started his brisk trot—still feeling
too weak to want to throw all of his energy into running—they came upon a clearing of small cottages, some of which looked to be under construction.
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Jason slid off of Mick’s back as he transformed back into a man,
naked once more until Jason handed him back the joggers.
“Is this where you live?”
“Home sweet home,” Mick said, and clearly the sight was rejuvenating as he started walking, sauntering onto the land like only a man familiar with it could. “I’m starving. We’re going to the main house, and you and I are going to clear out the fridge first, go to my room to have more of that amazing sex. You can nurse my silver burns with the first aid kit,” he said, wolfish smile on his mouth.
“Then, and only then, will I call James to let him know we’re back.”