Ian's Choice (Wolves' Heat)

by Lynne, Odessa

  In the tight confines of the cave’s passage, he struggled to get the flashlight aimed in the right direction. When he swept the beam of light toward his left, he recognized the sight of dirt and thick roots making up the farthest wall. The floor and ceiling of the cave widened slightly in that direction, a clear path right up to the edge of the wall. As he watched, more dirt fell away, exposing more of what appeared to be the roots of a large tree.

  “Brendan,” he said, and when the first time didn’t seem to be enough to get Brendan to stop his loud panting and panicked muttering, he tried again, “Brendan, you see that?”

  “I—No. What?”

  “Over here, could be another way out.”

  Scuffling movement indicated Brendan was probably turning to get a look at Ian’s discovery.

  Ian eased forward slowly, getting closer to the area where the dirt continued to settle onto the rock below. The passageway widened, and by the time he was within a few feet of the dirt wall, he could almost get up on his hands and knees. The light from the opening at the other end of the passage hardly reached him, but the glow from the flashlight illuminated the area well enough for Ian to note how loose and wet the remaining dirt seemed, how precarious the tree’s hold on the muddy earth must be.

  “Try it,” Brendan said. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Stop being an asshole. You think I don’t want out of here too? And for God’s sake, keep your voice down. There are wolves out there.”

  “Hurry the fuck up then. I have to get out of here.”

  Ian moved forward another few feet. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants, along with the flashlight. Then he rose up on one forearm and tried to dig his hand into the dirt. He pushed through easier than he expected and he wobbled precariously, his elbow scraping the rock. He slipped forward on his knees, grunted, and then muttered, “Damn it,” and did it again, trying to figure out how much dirt and mud blocked the way out.

  “Faster, for God’s sake.”

  “Shut up,” Ian said, shaking with effort at the awkward angle. He was too close to the wall. If he pushed too hard or too fast, the earth might fall inward. The slight downward angle of the rock under him wouldn’t make a lot of difference if the whole wall collapsed on him at once. His head would be buried under the mud and he would suffocate. A cold sweat beaded his skin, and he took a deep breath. “Just shut up.”

  He struggled at the effort he had to expend just to hold himself upright enough to get his arm into the dirt, but he kept digging, and more dirt clumped and fell.

  Another tremble shook through the cave just as he pulled back on his arm and another layer of dirt crumbled loose, followed by a thick clump of muddy earth that hit the rock in front of him and splattered his face.

  Ian spluttered and then spit mud out of his mouth. He was readying himself for another scrape at the dirt when a streak of daylight broke through suddenly, bright and blinding.

  He squeezed his eyes shut while they watered and burned.

  “Thank God,” Brendan muttered. “Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.”

  Without warning, a chunk of dry dirt that had been clinging to the top of the cave near the opening fell, smacking into the back of Ian’s head and shoulders. The earth was dry and loose and broke apart easily, so it didn’t hurt much when it hit. But the plume of dust choked him.

  Ian coughed, trying to back away at the same time and shake some of the dirt off his head. The need to breathe hampered his progress and the coughing only got worse. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his mouth and nose, but the coughing fit took a while to ease.

  The dust hadn’t made it to Brendan. He shoved at Ian’s booted feet. Ian kicked back and the muscle in his leg burned when he did it.

  “Stop it!” His cracked yell got Brendan to pause in his mad scramble to push him out of the way so he could get to the opening.

  Roots, twisted and thick, blocked the way out, tendrils clinging to clumps of earth and hanging wet and muddy in the air in front of them. Ian scooted closer on his belly and took a good look at what seemed to be their escape route. The dampness of the air set off another fit of coughing and he tried to muffle the noise against his shoulder but it still sounded too loud to him.

  He saw nothing but trees through the gap in the earth, though, and when he pushed through the widest tangle of roots he could find, he looked out and saw the forest floor a few feet below the rock.

  The cave had opened on the side of a ridge, the rock face above and below home to a sparse collection of trees that had grown up over time in whatever crack or crevice available for the trees to take root in.

  He reached out for a thick branch that was brushing up against his face and he pulled himself out and down. He hung for a moment, and then let go, coming down on his feet on the soft, damp decay of the forest floor with barely a sound.

  Brendan hauled himself out and dropped to his feet so fast the tree branch snapped back with a loud thwap just as Ian pulled the gun out of his pants.

  The wolves they’d seen through the other cave opening couldn’t be far away and he didn’t trust Brendan at all.

  “I might have to crawl back into the cave so we can get an eye on the wolves and stay out of their path,” he said. Maybe Brendan would run off while he was gone. Ian didn’t want a hostage and he didn’t want to hand Brendan over to Craig.

  He was going to have to let Brendan go and that didn’t seem right. Not if Brendan had been lying about Devon still being alive.

  Shit. He couldn’t look at Brendan and not see the boy he’d grown up with. He hoped to hell Brendan hadn’t been lying about Devon.

  But Ian was heading back toward Craig. He’d decided, and although he couldn’t say exactly when the thought had solidified, he knew that’s what he wanted to do.

  They were going to mate, after all. And Craig had been willing to overlook Ian’s every connection to the renegades in light of that fact. By God, that had to mean something.

  He wasn’t sure how the mate thing worked outside of heat season, but overall, the wolves became much more reasonable then. When heat season ended, if things changed too drastically, he’d find a way home.

  “We’ve got the tracker in your buckle and you have my phone. My guys will find us.”

  Ian looked at Brendan and pulled the phone out of his pocket. “The tracker on your phone’s active?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” Brendan looked at the gun Ian held.

  “Wolves could be tracking the buckle too. They knew about it.”

  “Are you serious?” Brendan demanded.

  “You said yourself you knew I got caught by the wolves. You really think I got away from them on my own in the middle of their heat season?”

  “You fucker. That’s why they were waiting on us. You were part of a trap.”

  Ian just stared hard at Brendan. He thumbed the smooth metal of the trigger guard and thought about raising the run. He didn’t.

  “I’m going back,” he said. “You don’t want to stay here. They’ll be looking for me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I am.” He wasn’t going to explain himself. Wasn’t sure he could.

  “You’re messed up, you know that? You always have been.” Brendan shook his head. “Your grandfather’s views on—”

  “Shut up,” Ian said. His grandfather’s character wasn’t up for debate. He knew where Brendan was headed with his argument. Ian didn’t like hearing it, never had. He wouldn’t let Brendan get away with it this time.

  “It’s true. You never could instigate anything. If it wasn’t out of your hands—”

  Ian punched him, right in the mouth.

  Brendan staggered backward, and then sat down on his ass, stunned by the force of the blow. “Son of a bitch.”

  He brought his hand up and rubbed, and blood smeared thick and bright over his lip and chin. He glared up at Ian. “You liked it, didn’t you? Son of a bitch. I should have known you woul
d.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Brendan, before I do more than punch you in the mouth.” His fingers flexed, the butt of the gun firmly in his grasp.

  “Oh, the hell you will, Ian. You let those wolves take what you’ve never been able to give anyone else because you fucking liked not having a choice, didn’t you? Maybe that’s what I should have—”

  “If you finish that sentence, I’ll put a bullet in your head right now, and don’t you dare think I won’t. I said shut the fuck up and I meant it.”

  “Yeah. Got it.” Brendan stared at him, ire, contempt, scorn, all of it burning a hole through Ian.

  “You have no right to judge me,” Ian said. “None at all.”

  Brendan shrugged and wiped his mouth again, another bright smear of blood streaking across his cheek. He rubbed under his nose and sniffed hard. Nevertheless, blood trickled out of his nostril and he looked at his finger and scoffed. “Fucking asshole. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

  Funny how Ian didn’t give a shit and yet the words still stung.

  Brendan didn’t leave. A few minutes later, Ian crawled back into the cave, and then shimmied his way to the place where Brendan had seen the wolves. He watched silently for a while and tried to figure out if the wolves belonged to Craig. But he couldn’t tell. They milled around, wearing human clothes, and using small devices he hadn’t ever seen before. One of the wolves closer to his hiding spot raised his head once, his sharp eyes turning toward Ian, but Ian just stayed quiet and didn’t move, and after a few minutes of still watchfulness, the wolf turned back to his device and then walked away to talk to another wolf farther from the cave.

  Ian gave up the reconnaissance then and left the cave, only to find that Brendan had made himself at home up in one of the bigger trees. He had covered himself in mud and the whites of his eyes gleamed in stark contrast against the rest of his face.

  “Gotta keep the scent high,” he said down at Ian standing below him. “My asshole ex-best friend didn’t leave me a weapon to protect myself with.”

  “You should have left.”

  “Yeah. I’m betting my guys find us before your wolves find you.” Then he smiled and looked over Ian’s shoulder.

  Ian tensed and turned.

  “Meet a few of my other guys,” Brendan said.

  But Brendan’s other guys weren’t men. They were wolves.

  Chapter 22

  “What the hell is this?” Ian stared at the wolves, at least two from those he had noticed on the other side of the ridge through the cave.

  “He stinks,” one of the wolves said, his eyes bright and sharp on Ian’s face, his nose crinkled in a subtle sniff. “Alpha Craeigoer.”

  Ian scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He didn’t expect the wolf to believe him but it was worth a shot.

  “I want him,” the wolf continued, taking a step closer to Ian. “An alpha doesn’t protect what’s his, he loses it. Along with his status.”

  Ian stepped back. He could feel the cold press of the gun’s metal barrel against his hip, but he knew he would never be fast enough on the draw this close to do more than get himself killed. Also, there were too many other wolves present for his weapon to be useful unless he wanted to shoot himself with it. He’d rather die fighting if it came to that.

  “I won’t submit,” he said, taking another slow step back.

  “Then your only use to me will be as a show of strength against your alpha. When you die at the end of my claws, his betas will question his ability to protect them if he can’t even protect his most valued possession.”

  The wolf showed his teeth in a snarl and took two broad steps forward.

  “That’s not the way this deal works,” Brendan said in a hard voice. “The drugs—”

  “Are ours,” the wolf said, stopping to look up at Brendan again. “You stole them. When I take Alpha Craeigoer’s territory—”

  Brendan’s laugh could have been a bark it was so sharp. “I don’t think so. When you get this wolf’s territory, you’re going to keep all your wolves in their little corner of the world and keep them the hell away from us. That’s the deal you made and if you don’t honor it, we’ll go back to killing you same as we’ve done in the past. You want more of those drugs, you’re going to give us our world back or we’re going to keep killing you until there’s none of you left.”

  The wolf’s narrow eyes turned to near slits. “If this leads to me gaining position and removing Traesikeille as First Alpha our agreement will stand.”

  Ian recognized that name, the same one he’d heard a few nights ago in the presence of Craig and his betas, Second and Third. Obviously, this Traesikeille had some significant rank within the hierarchy of the wolves. First Alpha sounded like an impressive title. But this wolf’s determination to take over Craig’s territory said Craig also held a position of power. The size of Craig’s pack of wolves had probably said as much if Ian had understood more about the wolves and their pack hierarchies.

  “Is the peace between us and them worth your life, Ian?”

  Ian looked up over his shoulder and into the tree where Brendan stood on a branch. He stared back at Brendan and made no attempt to reply.

  “Think about it,” Brendan said. “Because you’re right, if we keep killing them, they’ll eventually get tired of it and turn on us with their more powerful technology, but if they kill each other…”

  The wolf growled.

  “Well, that’s their problem,” Brendan said. He smirked at the wolf. “This is your last chance Ian. Join me and I’ll make sure this wolf never gets near you.”

  “Go to hell,” Ian said.

  A shot rang out.

  Brendan slipped on the branch holding him up.

  A wolf growled and then another, louder, closer, and then the roar of an alpha sounded from somewhere deeper in the forest and every hair on Ian’s body stood on end.

  Craig and his wolves had found him. And unlike the wolves here that Brendan had created some kind of devil’s bargain with, Craig and his wolves had been out of drugs for days, and heat season still raged.

  Ian dropped to the ground, rolled, and came to his feet with a distinct wobble and screaming hot pain in his calf. His knee buckled and he had to catch himself before he fell.

  “Shit,” he muttered, and then he pushed past the pain and ran, hell bent on escape before the wolf intent on taking over Craig’s territory got hold of him.

  He lunged through the woods at a breakneck speed, feet slipping on wet leaves, branches snapping, heart pounding. He spared a thought for Brendan and then pushed the thought as far out of his mind as he could and concentrated on staying on his feet and breathing in the still damp air. He heard a savage roar and the sound of heavy footfalls behind him, gaining faster than he could run with his injury.

  He should have been able to stay ahead of the wolves for at least a while, but he was slower and weaker than usual, so he almost anticipated the vicious tug on the collar of his t-shirt that pulled him up short and the fiery burn of claws dragging across the back of his shoulder.

  He dropped and rolled, coming to his feet in a crouch and sliding Brendan’s knife out of his boot sheath in as smooth a movement as he’d ever managed.

  The wolf roared and lunged.

  Ian wasted no time. He feinted and slashed, the knife slicing deep into the wolf’s throat in the same vulnerable area Craig had gone for when he’d attacked Third.

  The wolf’s eyes widened dramatically but his claws kept coming.

  Ian jerked back, his body twisting abruptly and his balance failing him on his bad leg. He fell backward just fast enough to keep the wolf’s sharp claws from doing more than scraping his chest and tearing his shirt. He rolled again as he hit the ground, onto his belly, and shoved himself to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough. Claws nicked his shoulder as he was yanked around, the roar in his ears enough to make him flinch at the pain against his eardrums.

  Not even the adrenaline fl
ooding his body gave him the strength he needed to keep the wolf off him when the wolf straddled his thighs and clenched his hands over Ian’s shoulders. Before the wolf realized what he was doing, Ian pulled his gun free, jabbed the barrel into the wolf’s gut and squeezed the trigger.

  The wolf reared back, the claws of one hand raised high and the other already grabbing at Ian’s hand. Ian thrust the gun up and fired again, trying for a head shot, because that was the only chance he had. He missed.

  He felt his wrist crack and he gave a startled yelp at the sudden sharp pain. He dropped the gun.

  Ian glared up at the wolf, waiting for a death blow that didn’t come.

  The wolf stared down at him with blatant disregard for his own wounds, blood trickling from the slash at his throat, while blood from his bullet wound slowly soaked the front of his shirt. He was probably already healing, the asshole.

  The muscles of his thighs shifted against Ian, the subtle flare of his nostrils preceding a slight tilt of his head and a look in his eyes that unsettled Ian in a way Craig’s interest never had.

  Ian shook his head and felt the slick rub of damp leaves against his hair and a tickle against the back of his neck. “Go ahead, kill me.”

  Claws scraped over his collar and up the side of his neck.

  Ian shivered, the sensation unpleasant, his chest tight and his heart pounding. His wrist throbbed with every heartbeat. Craig had never made him feel this way. He couldn’t say why, considering how they’d met, but it was true nonetheless.

  The wolf leaned down and pressed his nose to the base of Ian’s throat where his claws rested, their sharp points prickling against Ian’s skin, just shy of breaking through and drawing blood.

  “Your scent is…” The wolf drew out his words, leaned in closer, sniffed in a deep, slow breath as if to savor the nuances of whatever he smelled.

  “Overwhelming,” he finished. “Intoxicating. Even with the drugs running through my veins.”