Unwilling: a shifter romance

by Hannah L. Corrie

  "Ibuprofen, as high a dosage as you can get. Some clothes from my room, something for Darwin too. And some light food. Can you manage that?" Jared knew he was being curt with the only person willing to help him and Darwin, but try as he might, he couldn't keep the demanding note out of his voice. It was like some newly evolved instinct to command instead of ask, and he just couldn't control it.

  The phone crunched again, then Harry answered. "Yes. Send me the coordinates. It'll take me about an hour to get the stuff together, but I'll hurry."

  Darwin started to twitch and mumble in his feverish sleep. It brought Jared to his side in a split second, even though he couldn't do anything except change the wet cloth on Darwin's head. The injured werewolf was still burning up with waves of crippling fever, but he opened his eyes and blinked confusedly at Jared.

  "What's going on?" Darwin croaked, disoriented and exhausted. The sheets and pillow were soaked through with sweat, but Jared hadn't been able to coax Darwin to drink more than a few meager sips. Seeing his chance, he jumped to the opportunity.

  Grabbing a water bottle, Jared scooted closer, caught hold of Darwin and pulled him onto his lap. "You have healing fever. Don't worry, I've already sent for drugs. Here, drink something," he purred calmingly and unscrewed the bottle top.

  Darwin on the other hand didn't seem to think of thirst as a priority and shoved Jared's arm away. "No, don't call my father. He'll tell Carl! It's all your fault, everything..."

  He fell quiet again, exhausted from all the rambling, and Jared tried again to offer some water. This time Darwin drank greedily and calmed down a little, or maybe he was just too tired to keep struggling.

  Darwin's feverishly hot back rested against Jared's naked chest. It felt so good to hold him, even though sweat rubbed off onto Jared's skin, leaving itchy spots he couldn't scratch without waking Darwin. But there was something else, something Jared didn't want to acknowledge because it was more than inappropriate--arousal. Deep, heavy, sensual arousal, fueled by the scent of Darwin's body.

  Jared's cock swelled and pressed snugly against Darwin's back. For a few moments, he thought about moving his crotch away from his nearly unconscious charge, but Darwin whimpered softly and scooted back to regain body contact each time he tried. It was the sweetest of tortures. And to add to Jared's inner turmoil, an alien calmness and satisfaction overwhelmed him, soothing his nerves and lessening his restlessness, pushing away the need to sate his lust that instant. A dose of morphine couldn't have gotten him this relaxed, this fast.

  So this was what having a submissive calm you down felt like.

  With a slow grin, Jared ruffled Darwin's sweaty hair, pulled him closer, and let bliss overwhelm him, promising himself to be up and about as soon as he heard Harry arrive. But until then, why not enjoy the peace?

  Darwin

  Darwin awoke to a mixture of incredibly hot moisture on his entire body and the ruthless glare of the sun shining through the window of the other side of the hut. He was sweaty, thirsty, tired and weak, and the pains in his body were still there. The aches actually meant he was still alive, so that was a good thing, but the other inconveniences of his awakening were unpleasant.

  Something silky smooth but hard pressed into his back at an awkward angle, but Darwin didn't think much of it— at least until he moved and a grunt made him aware of the other person lying in the bed right beneath him.

  Jared. Always Jared.

  Shooting up was definitely not a good idea, but it surprisingly didn't make his bones crunch or cause him to black out. The pain did flare like an angry, startled, snarling dog, but it was way less intense than the last time he had tried such a stunt. Stumbling a bit, Darwin took stock. A cabin, a cot, a shelf with cans, two windows, one door. He had no idea where he was. On the plus side, his body seemed to have healed quite a bit, which on the other hand meant he had been unconscious for some time.

  His movement also woke up Jared, who lay on the cot like a lazy, sun-kissed tiger. Darwin took in the broad, muscular chest, the light fleece of blond hairs trailing down from his navel to the waistband of his ripped jeans, the obvious signs of sweat and the pinkish flush where their bodies had been in close contact throughout the night. It was a sight to behold, but even as Darwin's pupils dilated with sheer lust, he got angry.

  "What the fuck did you do to me?" he bellowed and took a wobbly step back. There was a bit of vertigo and some tottering to keep his balance, but he managed to stay on his feet. His humiliation would have been complete if he had fallen down face forward, only to be rescued by the infuriating Alpha again.

  Jared smiled lazily. "Me? I didn't do anything. You went all submissive on me. How was I supposed to defend myself against that?" he replied and scratched his belly.

  Darwin's eyes unthinkingly followed the fingers on their path through the golden trickle of hair leading further down and he wrinkled his nose. As much as he tried to stop it from happening, he scented Jared and was rewarded with a big whiff of musk that went straight to his dick, morphing his insides into jelly. It made thinking clearly impossible.

  A few seconds of silence ticked by, then Darwin swallowed saliva and growled: "I didn't do anything, how could I? I was unconscious as you well know!"

  He meant the words to sound stern and reprimanding, but they came out lame and insecure, like the bark of a surprised Pekingese.

  "That you were. But when I tried to get off the cot, you practically clung to me and wouldn't let me go, and then there was this strange calm that made me want to stay and just relax. I fell asleep from it and I wouldn't do that under normal circumstances, so don't tell me you didn't do anything." Jared turned his gaze away and got up in a fluid motion to open the shabby door.

  A fresh breeze of much cooler air wafted into the small hut, bringing relief to both of them. Darwin wanted to go out into the cool, sunny morning, but he would have to pass Jared in close proximity. He didn't want to do that so soon. Jared's words made Darwin even queasier than before. He knew well what Jared was talking about, but that didn't mean he had to accept it.

  "I didn't submit to you." Darwin tried to fight down the fearful tone in his voice. The thought of giving up control to someone as dangerous as Jared almost made him panic. He couldn't lose control. He mustn't!

  "I didn't say you did." Jared turned around to face Darwin, leaning against the door frame as the morning breeze blew by. A few rays of sunlight caught in his blond hair and made it all shiny and sparkly, giving his head an aura. Like a fucking angel. Darwin crossed his casted arms as firmly as possible. It was hard not to fidget under those curious, intense eyes, but Darwin had a lot of practice.

  "That's good, because I didn't!" Darwin snapped, then added, "and I won't. Never!"

  Fuck, why did I say that? But Darwin couldn't take the words back, even though they sounded childish as hell. Something about Jared made him moody and bitchy and confused. He played him like a fiddle, but Darwin couldn't just drop his year-old camouflage and cease playing a dominant. His instincts screamed and begged for him to let it go and take what he knew he wanted, needed, but every time he got the chance to do just that he backed out like a wimp.

  "Never?" Jared raised one eyebrow.

  "Never." Another opportunity missed. Darwin started to hate himself more than he hated Jared.

  Again there were a few seconds of silence, then a soft laugh. "Fine with me. I like challenges." Jared had a big grin on his face and pushed away from the door to walk over to the table. A tiny hill of wallets, keys, and phones sat on it, right next to a big first aid kit that seemed to have been plundered by barbarians, its contents mixed up or strewn across the one small chair and the floor. Jared picked up both phones, activated the displays and scowled.

  "Hm."

  That small sound was enough to set Darwin off again, even though he didn't know why. "What! What is it this time?" He sat down on the cot heavily and his wounds protested with sharp stabs of pain.

  This time, Jared didn't react with
his normal infuriating amusement. He didn't answer at all, but instead dialed a number and put the phone to his ear.

  "Who could be so goddamn important that you're calling right in the middle of our fight?" Darwin griped, then turned beet-red when he realized what he had said.

  A soft click announced that someone on the other end of the call picked up and Jared started talking.

  "Hello? Who is this?" he said, sounding alarmed. It made Darwin shut up and listen. He didn't hear the answer, but Jared paced around, his face twisting into a stony expression. "Is he alright? How did this happen? ... No, I'm a good friend of his, I was expecting him to visit yesterday but he never turned up," he explained, but his face didn't match his voice.

  A few more words were exchanged, then the call ended and Jared stared out the window for a few moments. Briefly, he looked exhausted and guilty, but when he turned around to look at Darwin, his face gave away nothing.

  "Darwin, I'm sorry. Harry somehow went missing from the dorm, they've been looking for him for hours. I think whoever hurt you also got him."

  Hunt and Hunted

  Carl

  Curling his upper lip into a snarl, Carl rammed the shovel into the sandy ground and heaved another pile of dirt out of the grave-shaped hole.

  Dark memories always made him moody and distracted, but the best cure for distraction was focus. Focusing on digging helped against the thoughts going around and around in his head. Carl knew he was unstable, not quite right in the head, but he had always trusted in his late Beta, George, to stabilize him, second-guessing every order Carl gave, making him realize what was normal and which orders were too harsh. Since George wasn’t available any longer, he was on his own. Everything was harder now, even quieting his mind.

  An agonized cry downhill from where Carl was digging stopped him in his tracks. Some lower noises followed, but they were indistinguishable and the cry itself didn't sound familiar. Could be Trevor, or Darwin, if that bastard had survived the beating, or someone else entirely. A part of Carl's mind urged him to go take a look and find out what had happened, but he didn't pay it any attention. He was focusing, digging a grave, and he didn't want to leave any work unfinished. It just wasn't right.

  Not right. Like George abandoning him. A stroke, a damn stroke had taken his best friend and confidant away, two and a half years ago. It hadn't killed George, but it might as well have, leaving him incapable of moving freely or defending himself. Carl had never felt so lonely and his late wife had never been a fit replacement for George and his ability to stabilize Carl.

  Even worse, George hadn't been there when his wife had ultimately betrayed Carl. Nobody had been there to talk him out of it, to quench his rage or stop his battering fists, to make him refrain from doing something he would regret for the rest of his life. When all had been said and done, when his wife had been no more, reduced to nothing but a slimy, bloody pulp on the floor of his home, Carl had raged even more, because they both had become widowers.

  That night, he had seen the true face of life and it had made him weep and cry. He had sworn to himself he'd never ever forget about the truth behind the happy facade of the world as a whole. He had sworn to end it, because it just wasn't right, shouldn't go on like this any longer.

  The small grave was finished and Carl climbed out with a pointed growl. What was taking Trevor so long? Now that his work was done and his mind once again free to wander, he admitted to himself that investigating the sounds would be a good idea, so he made his way downhill. There were no more screams, just the soft, lonesome calls of creatures of the night and the whispers of an autumn breeze in the trees. It sounded right. The woods also appeared right, but they nevertheless smelled wrong.

  Blood was in the air.

  When Carl found the ripped up pieces of what once had been Trevor, the strong stench of fresh meat and blood sent him into a hazy trance, forced his heart into a nervous gallop. His skin prickled with sudden alarm, but Carl was made of sterner stuff. He wouldn't run. Retching and spitting to get the taste of death out of his mouth, he shook himself and took a 360° spin to have a look at the carnage in front of him, huffing through the rush of blood through his body.

  Even in the near-total darkness of the forest night, the carnage stood out from the black dirt and the tree trunks. The blood was still fresh enough to reflect the moonlight from above and steam slightly, dripping from tree limbs and rustling leaves as it cooled down. The signs of a werewolf attack were obvious on the strewn around body parts and the ripped clothing dangling from a bush. The cut up abdomen where the body was most vulnerable, the broken neck that at least had granted Trevor a merciful death, and the claw marks. They were everywhere, not just on the remains, but also on the ground and a nearby tree. Only one pissed off werewolf could wreak this much havoc in such a short time. Carl whistled impressed, then shook his head. He had been there more than once. It had taken him a long time to get some kind of control over his rages without George's help. To not make that kind of a mess anymore. Now Carl killed with control and precision. It made his life so much easier.

  No way Darwin was responsible for this. Trevor had neither been the sharpest knife in the drawer nor the biggest hunk in the pack and there were a dozen werewolves able to subdue Trevor, but to rip him up like that? Carl sniffed and turned to scent the claw marks at the nearest tree trunk. Both Trevor's and Darwin's scents hung thickly in the air, but another scent mingled with them. Carl's head spun, raising his hackles and drawing a rumbling snarl from him.

  Alpha.

  The realization rushed him and he staggered back, almost stumbling over a severed limb. Another Alpha had been here, spread his stink and killed one of his pack. This was beyond the pale, unacceptable!

  Snarling, he opened his trousers, whipped out his dick and pissed over the marks until his own pungent scent overrode everything else. No way he'd let that impertinence stand, not when he was about to call in someone to help clean up.

  When the task was done, he turned around and walked back to the house. Since Trevor was out of the picture, he'd have to think up a new, believable tale for his pack and find a new scapegoat to carry out his dirty work and not ask too many questions. Everything depended on it. Everything!

  When the door fell shut behind Carl, the realization hit him. He knew who would be perfect to take Trevor's place. He'd still have to assemble a believable story for the rest of his troops, but the new one had been nagging him about a chance to prove himself for weeks, increasingly desperate in his attempts to catch Carl's attention. He frowned as he searched his contacts, trying to remember the name. Rob? Rick? Ah there, Rayne.

  "Rayne, good evening. You asked me for a chance to show your talents. Well, today's your lucky day! Meet me at the pack house as soon as possible. I'll wait here."

  Harry

  Harry didn't notice Jared's disappearance until the pizza delivery guy stopped knocking and started hammering against the door. "Jared?" he called, turned off the shower and fished for a towel to rush to the door, dripping wet. Jared's room was empty, Harry's phone was on the floor, and the pizza guy made a sour face when Harry barely had enough money to pay the pizza, but not enough for a tip. Harry put the pizza on the desk, then went back to the bathroom to finish his shower. Jared probably just had gone out for a second. He would be back soon, Harry mused as he dried his hair.

  Thinking of Darwin still made his chest throb and tighten painfully, but Jared had promised to fix things and Harry trusted the Alpha to be able to do just that. If anyone could turn Darwin around, it was Jared. He put on his clothes, wiped the shower walls dry and sat down at the desk to eat. At first, he left half of the pizza for Jared, but when midnight came and went, he finished off the last pieces and looked for his phone.

  The battery was empty. To top off his streak of bad fortune, Jared didn't have the same type of phone, making recharging Harry's phone on the spot impossible. Harry didn't want to leave the Alpha's room. He felt safe there. At the same time, the u
rge to find out where Jared was and why he wasn't back yet rode him and made him restless and itchy. After fifteen minutes of walking in circles and looking out of the window, Harry sighed and trashed the empty pizza carton, left Jared's dorm room and walked out of Statsby Hall.

  For whatever reason, Harry's room was on the other side of the campus, nearly a half-hour-walk from Statsby Hall. Gymnasts strangely didn't seem to count as athletes around here, so no amount of gold and silver medals had gotten Harry, Darwin, or the rest of the team, into a room close to the gym. Instead, they were stuck in the nerd wing, safely tucked away and out of reach from the jocks and with as much distance to the next bar as possible. Sure, it was nice and quiet in the evenings, but going home at night was spooky as heck. The further away from the main building Harry went, the darker it got and halfway through, the remaining paths were deserted. He wasn't afraid of darkness per se, but the day had already held too many surprises and his nerves lay blank. Even his own steps on the gravel sounded way too loud. Surely it was no wonder to see things under circumstances like this, after all, who wouldn't be scared after all that had happened? Nevertheless, no matter how many uplifting thoughts Harry conjured, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being followed.

  When he saw a shadow move between the bushes of the small on-campus park, he decided to throw caution in the wind and jog home, or rather, sprint. He reached his dorm room out of breath and sweaty, but safe and sound and a little embarrassed of his own jittery nerves. Harry did look out of the window, though, and when another shadow moved down at the street, he barely suppressed a shiver.

  He checked the lock on his door, made sure the windows were all closed, and connected his cell phone to the charging cable. Freaking out would be a bad thing, but the minutes he had to wait for his phone to charge felt like hours. Every time he peered out of the window, his anxiety spiked. Goosebumps crawled all over his body, his breath sped up to a pant, and when he eventually managed to switch on his phone, his fingers shook.