Wolf Pack Complete Series : Mate (Silver Mountain Wolf Pack), Alpha Bait (Russian Wolf Pack One) and Wild (Russian Wolf Pack Two)

by Zoe Perdita

  He moved his ankle, and the doctor smiled. “Good. How does that feel?”

  “Fine. Still sore but it doesn’t hurt so much when I put weight on it anymore.”

  “I imagine the bone’s mended itself. It might take several months for your leg to be in perfect working order. I suggest taking it easy,” the doctor said, and cast Caleb a meaningful glance.

  Wild wondered what it meant – keep the little runt out of trouble?

  “Don’t worry, Doc. He’s in good hands, and he’ll be here for a while. Looks like I found my new apprentice.”

  The man’s graying eyebrows shot up his forehead like birds taking off from a tree. “Oh? Good luck to both of you then. I’d keep a low profile if I were you. The Eurasians have been expanding their territory in the valley. Something about traps in the fields set them off, it seems.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. “In the fields? Any idea who put them there?”

  “No. I only know what I hear, and I’m not about to ask a wolf pack about it,” the man said and wiped a line of sweat from his brow.

  Wild didn’t blame him. Rabbits had plenty of reasons to be wary of wolves. He didn’t want to approach the other pack either, and he was one of them.

  “Thanks for the warning, but the Eurasians don’t sniff this far up the mountain. Not if they know what’s good for them.”

  With a stiff nod, the doctor took his leave.

  Caleb sighed.

  “What?” Wild asked, wiggling his toes experimentally.

  “Nothing. You think you’re ready to move on to the woodshop?”

  The smaller wolf glanced at his line of whittled figurines set out on the window seal. The first attempts looked like little more than crude shapes, but after several tries he was getting better. The raccoon he made the day before actually had some impressive detail, by Caleb’s own admission.

  “Of course!”

  The man scratched the back of his head. “Good, but I can’t have you working with the equipment if your hair’s that long. You’ll maim yourself.”

  Wild twisted a lock of mahogany around his finger. It’d been short when he was thirteen. Five years was a long time to let his hair grow, even if he never used his human form. “I can cut it.”

  Caleb raised an eyebrow and held his hand out to the bathroom. “By all means.”

  Cutting hair couldn’t be that hard. In his old pack, Wild’s gran had done it until she died. She was really the only one willing to let him stay. His mother was more interested in Gerald than her own omega son.

  The big wolf handed Wild a pair of scissors and leaned against the doorframe. “Barbers usually wet the hair before they cut it.”

  The smaller wolf fingered his untamed mane and shrugged. If it needed to be short, did it matter if he cut it wet or dry? The first snip felt like freedom – the weight of his past falling away. Wild gathered his hair into manageable bunches and cut with no concern for length or appearance. As long as it was short enough that he couldn’t maim himself, Caleb should be happy.

  The big wolf watched, his reflection contemplative in the mirror behind Wild. “You look like someone took a weed-wacker to your head,” he said when the little wolf finally lowered the scissors.

  Wild glowered at the man’s reflection. “I’m just trying to make it short enough.”

  Caleb’s lips quirked, his chilly eyes brightening a shade. He slipped the scissors from Wild’s fingers. “I think the lesson here is: you can’t do everything on your own. Let’s wet your hair and see if it works out better.”

  Wild dipped his head under the showerhead obediently, and the man wrapped a towel around the little wolf’s shoulders. “You’re doing a better job with a razor, Whelp.”

  His cheeks were smoother than they had been, and he ran a long finger over his olive skin. Looking in the mirror, he wasn’t sure he recognized himself. The scrawny pre-teen was now a man, even if Caleb towered over him, but the big wolf towered over everyone. If Wild stood up straight his head came past the man’s shoulder, the perfect height to kiss Caleb’s powerful neck.

  He quickly brushed the thought from his mind as the man ran his strong fingers through Wild’s hair. The touch ignited the fire under the little wolf’s skin, and Caleb frowned although Wild heard his heartbeat quicken. The smooth hair slipped through his hands, and he clipped the ends, his brow furrowed and his gaze intense.

  Energy prickled on the tips of his fingers, like little jolts of lightning. Every brush of skin against skin sent a surge to Wild’s cock – and he pressed his legs together to hide his excitement.

  “There,” the big wolf said, his voice husky, and he blew the loose hair from the smaller man’s forehead. His full lips pursed into a frown as Wild gazed at him, so close and so kissable.

  Slowly, the little wolf brought his hand to his head and touched the short locks. They looked darker, and without all the hair to weigh him down, the smooth cut of his cheekbones stood out. Staring at himself in the mirror, Wild took in the long, dark lashes around his round, green eyes. He looked older with the haircut, though his eyes still spoke of inexperience and youth – maybe that’s why Caleb said nothing about them being mates.

  “Do you like it?” he asked the larger wolf.

  Caleb rinsed his hands in the sink. “It’ll do. The question is if you like it.”

  “Yeah. I don’t look so young anymore.”

  The bigger man raised an eyebrow. “Oh, nothing in this world can change how young you look, Whelp.”

  Wild scowled, and stood up straight despite his arousal. “I’m not that young. I’m old enough for plenty of things!”

  Amusement tickled Caleb’s eyes, though a twinge of something flashed underneath. Sadness? Loss? Wild couldn't tell.

  “That’s what every damn eighteen-year-old thinks, and they’re all wrong. You’re a whelp, Wild, and only age and experience will change that.”

  That was the first time in four long weeks the other wolf ever spoke his name, besides the day Wild gave it to him. He always called the smaller wolf ‘Whelp’ instead.

  “I have experience,” he mumbled.

  “Experience living alone, yeah, I’ll give you that. But you’re still young and–”

  “So teach me!” Wild said and glowered at the taller man. His musky scent filled the bathroom, stinging the smaller wolf’s nose until he thought he’d go mad with it.

  Caleb took a sharp breath and licked his lips, like he tasted the air. “Teach you what, exactly?”

  “Teach me to have experiences. You know, the ones you’re talking about. The important ones for men like us,” Wild said, his cheeks burning crimson under the big wolf’s cool stare.

  The man had to see the bulge in the smaller wolf’s pants. He had to know what Wild was talking about. Why did he ignore it?

  “I think you already know what to do with that. Most boys learn by thirteen.”

  Wild’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes stung. “I know that! I’m not an idiot and I’m not a pathetic whelp. Why can’t you just. . . .”

  Caleb’s eyes hardened into ice. “No.”

  The little wolf’s body ached like it never had before. How could the man say that to him? Didn’t he feel it? Sense it? Wild’s heart felt ready to explode with the sensation, and he leaned forward, his lips brushing the other wolf’s skin. It sizzled under him, and Caleb grumbled something incomprehensible – half moan and half sigh.

  Then his large hands dug into Wild’s shoulders, and held tight, if just for a moment, before he moved the smaller wolf back.

  “No,” he said, so soft it was little more than air leaving his lips. “Don’t ask me for something you’ll regret. Please, Wild. Don’t.”

  Without another word, the man turned and stepped out of the room.

  “But we’re mates,” the little wolf whispered.

  Caleb didn’t turn around, and Wild’s chest felt like a hollowed out tree as he stared at the big wolf’s retreating back.

  Why di
dn’t his mate want him?

  Chapter 4

  It took every ounce of self-control to turn away from Wild and step out of the room. Caleb’s entire body tingled, his cock throbbing – if the whelp pursued him he wasn’t sure he could say ‘no’ again.

  Instead, the little wolf slammed the bathroom door. Caleb took heavy, purposeful steps outside the cabin. If he heard the whelp whimper, he’d want to do something they’d both regret.

  Well, Wild would regret it.

  What eighteen year old wanted to be tied to an older wolf like him? He was a fucked up hypocrite, just like Sam said.

  The man shook his head and stepped out onto the porch. He still wasn’t far enough away. After a month, Wild’s scent hung about the air as if he’d always lived there. As if he belonged – and like an idiot, Caleb couldn’t kick him out.

  How was he supposed to manage when the damn whelp wanted more than he could give? Scratch that. Caleb could give the little wolf just what he wanted – but at what price? Puppy love was fun at first, but what happened when the sheen wore off? At least Sam had time to think about accepting the Eurasians as his mates.

  Wild didn’t know any better.

  He was acting on instinct – a dangerous instinct that would lead to nothing more than hurt for them both.

  Sun peeked through the trees, a line of it falling across his cheeks. With a growl, the man slipped off his clothes and rubbed the old scar on the back of his calf before he gave in to the change. His body bent and cracked, reforming itself until he stood as a huge white wolf instead of a man. With great strides, he took off into the woods. He needed to focus on something else besides the damn whelp. A hunt was the perfect distraction.

  The little wolf might think they were meant for each other. He obviously felt the same pull as Caleb – the ache in his gut and heart. But the older wolf couldn’t hurt Wild like that. He knew better than anyone the scars left by first love.

  Caleb twisted the cup of coffee in his hands and glanced at the door for the hundredth time. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he agree to meet with a murderous werewolf? Since that morning, his nerves bristled. Every car was a cop about to arrest him for withholding information – that’s what the police would do if they found out he was a witness to murder, wasn’t it?

  But no one pounded on his door or called his mom’s bed and breakfast. It was as if no one knew about the dead man on the beach at all. Well, the dead werewolf.

  The other werewolf, the murderous one, said his name was Peter. Although he didn’t explain a damn thing about wolf’s bait or what it was, he’d promised to do so that night.

  Staring at the man’s naked body made it difficult to think straight, especially since Caleb still sported a painful erection, but the young man agreed to meet at the diner. What if Peter didn’t show? Or what if he did? Maybe Caleb would tell his mom the man was a college recruiter or something, if anyone around town asked.

  The door dinged as someone walked in, and Caleb practically jumped out of his seat. Peter stood there, fully clothed in a pair of snug jeans, a turtleneck and a fitted black coat. The treacherous part of Caleb’s mind wished the man was still nude – thinking about Peter naked made his shower that morning much more interesting.

  The man’s dark hair brushed the tips of his collar, and his bright eyes lit up when they landed on Caleb.

  The knot in his stomach tightened. Did the werewolf look at everyone like that?

  With practiced grace, Peter swept over to the booth and sat down. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here. I thought this mornings events might’ve scared you off.”

  For whatever reason, the wolf asked him not to go to the police – and Caleb obeyed. What could cops do about werewolves anyway?

  He gripped his cup to steady his hands. “I want some answers. Of course I’d come!”

  “Determination is a good trait in someone like you. It’s always a shame when wolf’s bait are complete pushovers,” Peter mused and glanced at the menu.

  He didn’t look like the sort of person who ate at greasy diners, and Caleb suddenly felt stupid for choosing that place.

  To his surprise, the werewolf ordered them both hamburgers and fries, without the slightest bit of hesitation, and smiled as the waitress walked away. “Well? What do you want to know, young one?”

  Caleb’s cheeks burned. Young one? He was eighteen! A legal adult. There was nothing young about that. Plus, Peter didn’t look that much older than him – maybe in his late twenties.

  “What did you do with that guy’s body?” he whispered.

  The man chuckled. “That’s the first question you ask? I suppose I pegged you wrong. Here I thought you’d ask the other obvious one. If you must know, I buried him someplace I doubt any one will ever discover the body. Next?”

  Caleb sipped his cool coffee to give himself a moment to think. He had plenty of questions, but the man just admitted to burying a body. How often did he do that? A lot? How many other werewolves had he killed?

  “Okay, what’s wolf’s bait?”

  Light reflected in the wolf’s eyes, and Caleb swore he caught the hint of fangs in the man’s mouth. “It’s a human with the unique ability to attract wolves. Your scent does it – and what a scent it is.”

  Caleb shifted in his seat. “That’s it? Why?”

  Peter leaned forward, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Oh, that’s not quite it. You feel it, don’t you? The pull? Not only are wolves attracted to you – you’re equally attracted to us. That rogue aroused you this morning because he was a wolf. Your body wanted to give in to him, did it not?”

  His cheeks couldn’t burn any hotter – even if he stood on the surface of the sun. Caleb did want to give in, but he shrugged and glared at his cup of coffee nonetheless. Saying it out loud was too much like admitting the truth, and he didn’t want to do that yet.

  “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to feel ashamed to want another man. It’s the way you were designed.”

  He narrowed his eyes at the werewolf. “I’m not ashamed,” he hissed, and glanced around the diner.

  The corner booth gave them some privacy, but if word got around town that he was gay, his last two months of high school wouldn’t be as easy as he wanted them to be.

  “I didn’t say you had to come out,” the man said and smirked. “Is that really all you want to know?”

  No. It wasn’t. But what else was he supposed to ask? A history of werewolves? Were there vampires too? And mummies? And creatures from the Black Lagoon? It was just like one of those old B-movies his dad used to watch on the weekends.

  Caleb sighed and ran his fingers through his pale, blond hair. “What do werewolves usually do?”

  The smirk never left the man’s perfect lips. “We do everything normal humans do, for the most part. We work, eat, sleep and fuck – not necessarily in that order.”

  Caleb’s cheeks caught fire again, and he took a long sip of water to cool himself. Who did they fuck? He didn’t ask. “So you live normal lives, except you turn into a wolf sometimes? Like on the full moon?”

  Peter glanced out the window at the dark sidewalk, and a sudden thought popped into Caleb’s head. Was it a full moon tonight? He never kept track of that sort of thing before!

  “Yes, the moon pulls us when she’s full – we’re forced to change during it. Some wolves don’t have as much control as others and do things they might regret. We can change anytime, as you saw. Many wolves live near the wild, mostly for easy access to hunting grounds. We do like to run through the woods in the moonlight. But there are others who live in cities. We’re not as rare as you’d think.”

  Caleb nodded. Were any of his teachers werewolves? Or maybe fellow students? No. They couldn’t be. He’d never felt the same urge around anyone else.

  “So what about other things. You know, other make-believe monsters.”

  Peter chuckled. “Make-believe? I’m very real, boy. But I think I know what you mean. Other creatures of leg
end? Do you think wolves are the only ones with the ability to turn into humans?”

  Caleb stared at the man, his jaw agape, and the waitress set their food on the table. Even after she walked away, he still wasn’t sure what to say. Other animals could turn human too?

  He leaned forward. “So every animal is a were-monster?”

  The werewolf shook his head. “No. Some are merely animals. Others are were-creatures. Try to use the proper word. Monster is so crude, especially since this monster saved you.”

  “What exactly did you save me from?” Caleb asked as he poured ketchup over his fries.

  The man took a large bite of his burger before he answered. “I’m sorry. Did you want that rogue to fuck you? I wouldn’t have interfered had I known, but it looked like you were trying to escape.”

  Caleb wanted to get away from the dirty bum, and he knew it. Plus, he had no desire to admit that was the closest he’d gotten to any guy. He hadn’t even kissed a girl since sophomore year – and that was just to see if he liked it. He didn’t.

  “No. I didn’t want him.”

  “But you couldn’t help enjoying his touch, right?”

  Caleb munched on a fry and frowned. “You know I couldn’t. Hey, why the hell were you there anyway?”

  Peter dabbed the napkin over his lips. “I was waiting for you to ask. Why do you think? I heard a lovely piece of wolf’s bait came of age in Glen Arbor. I had to see you for myself.”

  The young man’s cheek’s drained of color. “What? You heard about me? From who?”

  Did that mean other werewolves would be coming? More creatures would attack him? More danger? What if they attacked his house and his mom? What then?

  The wolf’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s important right now. Someone must’ve smelled you, and they spread the word. Your kind is quite rare these days.”

  Caleb set his half-eaten burger on the plate. “So you came for me? To do what?”

  “To see if I wanted you. To see how alluring wolf’s bait really was – call me curious. You’re every bit what I dreamt and more.”