Winterstoke Wolves Collection : An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance Bundle

by Sasha Silsbury

  “But—”

  Jax grabs his free hand and squeezes, and the wolf’s breathing slows and the panic in his storm-gray eyes subsides. Jax tries to ignore the fact that the warm touch of the alpha’s hand makes him feel better too.

  It’s just pheromones.

  The risk of something going wrong on the mating run has meant that every alpha in the area is out on patrol, and the omega leader of the Button Oak pack is out of town. The only way back to Aylewood is either a hire car or the bus.

  Jax takes stock of the wolf. He’s standing steadily, cradling the cast and seems strong enough, but there’s pain in the corners of his eyes and his jaw is gritted.

  The bus is cheaper than the car rental place, but it’ll take longer. The decision is made for Jax when the bus turns the corner, drives past them and stops fifty feet away at the hospital bus stop. Jax waves at them to wait.

  Five minutes later, they’re sitting at the front of the bus to Aylewood.

  Jax would have preferred the back but he’s not sure whether the wolf would manage with motion sickness. There’s only one other person anyway, a beta with her nose buried in her phone.

  The bus starts with a lurch, and Jax looks over at the wolf. His eyes are shut tight enough that crinkles have appeared at the corners. Both hands are clenched: the one at the end of his broken arm grips his white shirt, the other is holding tightly onto the edge of his seat. His mouth is a tight line.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, that’s obviously a lie. Oh, damn it. Jax reaches out and puts a hand on Gray’s knee, patting it awkwardly, and feeling completely useless, even he shivers at the touch.

  Gray’s eyes open. He turns his head and fixes his stormy eyes on Jax. The intensity in them forces Jax to look away. “I am not used to the vehicle.”

  He pronounces it in an odd way, as if it’s a word he’s heard long ago, but not in regular use. Vee-hikkel.

  “It’s safe.” Jax replies.

  “I know.”

  To distract both of them, and because he does need to know, Jax asks, “Can you tell me anything about what happened to you?”

  “No.”

  Jax tries again. “I mean that we need to find out who attacked you. If they’re going to be a problem, my brothers will need to deal with them.”

  Jax glances over again. The wild wolf has his eyes shut tight again. He’s shivering violently and he smells like Friday night A&E at the hospital where Jax did his residency: anger, fear, worry.

  “We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.”

  The wolf doesn’t reply but he doesn’t stop shivering either. Jax stops patting and starts stroking, gentle ‘I’m here’ soothing strokes. The shivers start to subside, as does the Friday A&E scent.

  It’s not helping with the pheromones or the imprint that Jax is going to have to figure out how to override, but for now it just feels good.

  It also doesn’t help that every touch sends electric shivers up Jax’s spine and sends his dick into overdrive.

  Jax gives up and lets it happen. He’ll worry about it when he gets back to town and can spend some time away from the enticing scent of Gray, and hell, if he can manage two hours on a bus with an imprinting alpha, he can manage anything.

  GRAY

  exhaust fumes and a curled-up palm

  The air in the bus stinks. The gray-eyed wolf sits on a seat that is both too soft and too hard. It smells of exhaust fumes and too many humans to count.

  He keeps his eyes shut tight and tries to ignore the shuddering and jolting. He focuses on one thing: the scent of Jax beside him and the warm weight of his omega’s hand on his knee.

  He doesn’t know how long it is before Jax says, “This is it. This is our stop.” He opens his eyes to find that the bus has finally stopped moving and that the doors are open.

  He bolts.

  Finally, he is out into the open air and the sunshine, and away from the hellish, moving, stinking thing that men have made.

  “Wait!”

  It’s only Jax’s voice that makes him stop running. The gray-eyed wolf halts as fast as he bolted, and stands where he stops, greedily gulping in air that isn’t filled with strangers, exhaust or chemicals.

  Air floods his lungs. He can finally scent the forest, but it’s contaminated by the thousands of conflicting human smells emanating from the town: greasy exhaust fumes, sickly sweet scents from the bakery, wood smoke, and overall, the scent of people. It’s still better than the bus.

  Everything about humans stinks.

  They wash themselves in poison. It sinks into their skin and makes them stink, but they like it. Gray’s father’s voice surfaces from the depths of his memory, bringing with it a pang of longing for home.

  The gray-eyed wolf doesn’t want to be here. It smells wrong, and he doesn’t know where he is.

  In front of him, he sees the low flat white building that he was in when he woke up and saw Jax for the first time. There are more buildings behind him. They all look the same: square walls and windows, rectangular doors.

  There are more straight lines in view the wolf has ever seen in his life. It’s making his head hurt.

  Escape is in sight. High above, above the buildings and the trees, are the familiar peaks of home.

  A wave of longing hits him with almost physical force, leaving him gasping and breathing in great gulps of the human-scented air.

  Shivers wrack his body, pushing and pulling at his muscles, bunching in his legs and burning his arms and stomach, urging him to shift into his natural state, rip off the itchy clothes, and run as far and fast as he can until the smells of humans are far behind and he’s back safe in the protective circle of the pack.

  His body starts changing even as the truth hits, halting it even as he longs to change. He can’t. He can’t shift. Not with his arm stuck in this hard thing.

  And he can never go home. He is stuck here, in this world of human stink.

  The thought brings another ragged breath. His heartbeat sounds a staccato beat in his pathetic human ears.

  He—

  “Hey, ssh.” A soft warm hand runs along the breadth of his shoulder blades, followed by light fingertips at the nape of his neck.

  The sound of Jax’s voice and the touch of his fingers infuses comfort into the wolf’s veins and chases the shivers away.

  Jax is looking up at him with concern in his brown eyes. The wolf stares at him, sinking into the beauty of his mate’s face. His breathing slows. The sound of his heartbeat wanes, until there’s nothing left but calm and the happiness of his mate by his side.

  He can scent traces of home in the air: pine, river water, the tantalizing trail of rabbits. It’s not completely swallowed by the town, and of course, there’s also the mesmerizing scent of Jax, hot and sweet.

  He breathes in slowly, concentrating on the good scents and the sense of both feet standing on solid ground instead of whooshing over it as the forest spins past just as fast. He doesn’t think he wants to go in a vehicle again.

  Jax’s fingers rub slow strokes into the back of his neck, just below where the clothes meet his skin. It makes the wolf want to wag a tail that is no longer there. He leans into the touch, but just as suddenly as it came, Jax withdraws his hand and it’s gone.

  Jax smiles at him. He has a glorious smile. One of his incisors is slightly crooked and it gives his mouth a slightly lopsided look. It makes the gray-eyed wolf want to kiss him. He leans over to do it, but a startled expression appears on Jax’s face, and Jax steps away.

  The wolf is confused. He can scent the pretty omega’s attraction to him and any omega unmated this long after an imprinting should be struggling.

  Jax isn’t. Instead, he’s standing beside the gray-eyed wolf, as unaffected as if he were a beta. The wolf swallows his hurt.

  Humans have strange customs, and they do a lot of things that don’t make sense. That was another thing his father used to say.

&n
bsp; His father had shifted rarely and spoken even less, especially after the wolf’s mother died, but something about this place and the strange circumstances are bringing his voice back as strongly as if he were standing beside him. The gray-eyed wolf tries to hold on to that. His father always knew what to do.

  “Ready?” Jax asks gently. “Feeling better?”

  It’s two questions, but the wolf just says, “Yes.”

  “How is the arm feeling?”

  “It’s—” the wolf hesitates, trying to find the right words. The arm hurts, but not like it did. He doesn’t mind it.

  The hard casing around it is far worse. The need to stretch out his arm is almost overwhelming, but he can’t. No matter how much he wants to. The rock-hard white substance must be another strange human custom, ‘—fine,” he finishes.

  Jax gives him a look that he doesn’t know how to interpret.

  “We better get you settled,” Jax says, deep brown eyes still on the wolf’s. “Come on.”

  They wait to cross the road, letting a sky-colored vehicle rumble by first.

  “Do you remember this place? You were a little out of it yesterday.” Jax says.

  The wolf looks around. He does remember the building, but it’s the scent that is the more familiar. It smells like the hospital: sharp antiseptic, a trace of old blood and illness, and the ever-present humans.

  There aren’t enough words to describe the memories or scents that the place arouses so the wolf just says, “Yes” again.

  “This is the Aylewood Clinic,” Jax continues. “We’ve got one full-time doctor — that’s me —, and two nurses. It’s bigger than we need and its use depends on the time of year. Bit of a jack-of-all-trades building really. It used to be the old town council offices so we don’t use all the rooms most of the time. Of course, this time of year is different. We recruit extra staff from Button Oak, including a few temp doctors. I can’t cover the mating run on my own.”

  The wolf only understood half of that, but he understood ‘doctor’.

  His pack has ways of dealing with illnesses. They know which plants to eat and which to avoid, and that you need to clean injuries. He remembers his mother talking about doctors when she was alive. They’re one of the few human concepts that the gray-eyed wolf thinks is sensible.

  It makes even more sense that Jax is one. He is an omega. Omegas like to look after people.

  Jax pushes the glass-fronted door open and holds it open for the wolf who hesitates. The scent of antiseptic is stronger inside, and he doesn’t like enclosed spaces. He clutches the injured arm closer to his stomach, suddenly aware of the parts of himself that are the most vulnerable.

  “It’s okay,” Jax says again, and the gray-eyed wolf remembers that this building is Jax’s space.

  The wolf steps in cautiously and looks around. It’s different when he’s looking at the walls straight on, rather than lying flat on his back, in pain and being pushed around by strangers.

  There’s a female beta standing behind a wooden object that comes up to her waist. She smiles at them when they come in, but like everyone else in the human world, her scent doesn’t match her actions. Her face is friendly when she looks at the wolf; her scent is nervous.

  “Wait here,” Jax says, striding over to her. The wolf is happy to. He doesn’t like the thought of going deeper into the building.

  “That’s Gray,” Jax says to the woman, nodding towards the wolf.

  Gray. That’s right. He’d forgotten that he’d taken a label. The gray-eyed wolf turns the name round in his mouth, sounding it out with his tongue. Humans lay a lot of importance on names.

  Everything has to have a label. Another thing his father had said and he’d forgotten.

  His father’s words are being brought up again now like the way the mud and sand swirl used to swirl up from the bottom of the river when he ran through it.

  The beta nods at him and keeps smiling, “Hello Gray, nice to meet you.”

  “Hello,” the gray-eyed wolf says. He’s going to have to get used to having a name.

  He’s going to need a second one too. All the humans have more than one name: they have their own individual names, just for them, and then they have pack names for blood family.

  None of it makes any sense to the wolf. None of his pack have ever needed to be given a label so they can tell them apart.

  Surely humans don’t get confused about who is who if they don’t know that person’s name? There’s a lot he doesn’t understand about the human world, but he is going to have to learn if he is going to be part of it.

  And that starts with accepting the name.

  I am Gray. It will become more familiar with use, he decides.

  “How’s it been?” Jax says, but he’s looking at the beta so Gray decides the question isn’t aimed at him.

  “Not bad. Only two in. One omega with a fever. We sent her home, and an alpha with a bad cut. Dr Barnes sewed him up and sent him back. We haven’t booked anyone into any of the rooms, so they’re all free.” She looks at Gray when she says that.

  Jax nods. “I’m going to put him in the consulting room at the back,” he says to her. She nods as if it makes sense.

  Jax smiles again at Gray who soaks it up. Jax smiling is like the sun coming out. “Follow me,” he says.

  Gray swallows his nervousness and does.

  Jax pushes through another door, and Gray follows. He finds himself in a smaller narrower area, long and thin and straight in the way that all the human buildings are. The ground is covered in hard black and white squares.

  They walk past more doors, turn a corner and find another door which Jax opens.

  “We set up beds during the mating run, but I won’t put you in there.” Jax closes the door behind them. “We’ve got two big rooms we use as dormitories, and three single rooms in case they’re needed. You need your own room, obviously, and this one has a private bathroom too. It’s not much, just a shower and a toilet, but it’ll be yours while you heal.”

  Gray cocks his head, not really understanding, and of course, Jax understands that because he immediately elaborates.

  “You can stay here until you’re healed. The cast will have to stay in place for a few weeks at least.”

  Gray looks around the room. He knows what furniture is, although he doesn’t yet understand the purpose of each item. There is a bed. He’s learned that one from the hospital. There’s a rail with cloth on it, and another door that he guesses leads to the bathroom that Jax mentioned.

  The bed is the same small one that he had in the hospital. It’s the part that makes the least sense. Surely, they should be bigger? Maybe he doesn’t understand how the bed works.

  “We won’t both fit in there,” he asks. “It’s too small. Is there a different way it works?”

  Jax stares at him, and Gray realizes he has said something wrong. “Don’t human mates sleep together?”

  Jax’s eyes widen and Gray picks up the distinct scent of slick on the air. Something about sleeping made Jax think about sex. Gray will have to remember that.

  Jax ducks his head, not meeting Gray’s eyes. Finally, he says, “I’ll spend nights with my pack.”

  Panic flickers. “Where are you going?”

  “Not far. I promise.”

  “I’ll come with.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  Gray stops confused. That’s not an answer. It doesn’t make any sense. He has to remember that Jax is human. He makes human sense.

  “But—”

  “I promise I’ll check on you every day. I won’t just leave you. My brothers are out searching for your pack. You won’t be alone and you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, but it’s a good idea. That’s a bad break. You can’t just head off into the woods.” Jax’s words tumble out one after the other and Jax takes a deep breath when he’s done.

  Gray shivers. Jax’s brothers won’t find the pack. They’ll
have headed high into the mountains, fleeing the stink of blood and flesh.

  Jax looks at the strap on his wrist. “I need to show you how to take care of that,” he nods at Gray’s arm. “And you’ve got medication that you need to take. Here, sit down on the bed.”

  Gray turns and looks at the bed. He’s still unsure of himself on human feet and the bed is higher than he expects. It’s definitely higher than the seat in the bus and he had enough difficulty with that.

  He bends his knees, reverses and then sinks his rear onto the bed. It’s softer than he was expecting, and it feels strange. Jax is doing something on the other side of the room, then returns with a container full of water. He’s holding a paper bag in his other hand.

  He passes the container to Gray. He sniffs at it. It smells okay. It’s not river water, and there’s that same chemical scent to it that covers all of the human world but he thinks it’s drinkable.

  Jax sits beside him on the bed, close enough that their hips touch. “I’m just going to show you the medicine you have and how much you need to take.”

  Gray nods. It makes his neck ache, and a spike of pain shoots down his hurt arm.

  “You’ve been prescribed two different types.” Jax tips the paper bag into his lap. Two rectangular boxes tip out.

  Gray watches his fingers as Jax expertly opens the boxes that were inside. Jax’s fingers are long and slim, and dusted with freckles above the knuckle. Gray’s by comparison are thick, and clumsy from lack of use.

  Each box contains a dark bottle with human writing on a white label.

  Jax looks from one to the other, then gets up and crosses the room to get something from a drawer.

  He sits down again by Gray’s side and Gray breathes in the closeness of his scent. He doesn’t feel like he needs medication. He just needs Jax to stay beside him.

  Jax is doing something to the bottles and when Gray looks at them, he can see that the colors have changed. Jax has put a big blue stripe on one and a big yellow stripe on the other.

  Jax puts the yellow-striped bottle in Gray’s hand, his fingers brushing against Gray’s palm.