by Zoe Perdita
It’s dark eyes widened, and it turned its head, smashing into him just as fangs sank into the young man’s leg from behind. He buckled under the mixture of weight and pain – the bite sent a shockwave of heat that stabbed every nerve in his body.
Did Peter bite him? Fuck!
He grabbed his leg, his hand sticky and hot from the blood, and gripped it as he fought to catch his breath. The world lost focus as he watched Peter leap at the gray wolf one last time – his teeth shredding the other animal to the bone, yanking out its heart and intestines until it was nothing more than a pile of fur, blood and guts.
The young man turned away, his breakfast rising in his throat, and threw up. He coughed, trying to catch his breath and calm the thundering of his heart.
Peter won. Peter would help him. They’d leave town and –
Footsteps crunched across the tiny pebbles littering the parking lot, and Caleb looked up at the man looming over him. The wolf wiped the blood from his mouth, though it dripped freely down his chest and chin. He was nude, and his left arm hung uselessly at his side.
“Please,” Caleb said and reached for his mate.
The werewolf didn’t offer him a hand, only narrowed his eyes into sharp slits. “You fool,” he growled. “Look what you’ve done.”
Chapter 11
Dr. Richards pushed up his glasses and smoothed the fringe of hair behind his ear. “You need to change the bandage twice a day and clean the wound. Got that?”
Wild nodded and squared his shoulders. Caleb took care of him, and he could return the favor easily. The doctor sounded surprised when Wild called him – then worried when the little wolf told him what happened. At least he got there quickly, just as Wild helped Caleb from the tub.
When Dr. Richard’s pulled the bolt from the white wolf’s shoulders, Caleb’s eyes widened, and he let out a sharp growl and winced. The blood dripped freely down his arm, and the little wolf wiped it up as the doctor cleaned and bound the wound. Then they helped the white wolf to his bedroom to rest.
“How’s your back?” Dr. Richards asked.
Wild kept his eyes on Caleb’s chest, the gentle rise and fall of the man’s breathing. “It’s fine. Healed, I think. How long will it take him?”
“A week or so. Don’t worry. The muscle should heal completely given time. How about your leg?”
The little wolf bent it and shrugged. It ached in the middle of the night from time to time, and it gave out on him once when he was chasing a rabbit out of the garden. “Better. Thanks, um, for everything. I promise not to eat rabbits anymore after how much you’ve helped us.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I’m much obliged. I’ll be going. If you need anything else give me a call.”
He locked the door behind the doctor, just to be safe, and peeked in at Caleb. The man’s eyes fluttered, like he wasn’t quite asleep. The little wolf’s chest ached at the sight of his mate like this. Cuddling up next to the man was all he wanted to do, but he had other priorities at the moment.
Slowly, the white wolf blinked at him.
“You need to rest,” Wild said from the doorway.
Caleb grimaced, and his stomach grumbled. “Can I eat first?”
Right! It was already past lunchtime – the hike up the mountain and back took several hours. “Yeah. I’ll make something. We still have roast in the fridge, right?”
Caleb nodded slowly and licked his perfect lips. The gesture sent a jolt through Wild’s body, and he dug his nails into the doorframe, almost scratching it.
He’d been with Caleb long enough that he’d picked up some cooking tricks, but preparing a whole roast was still beyond him. Instead, Wild pulled all the leftovers from the fridge and made a platter of sandwiches with some chips on the side. They didn’t look quite as neat as the sandwiches the white wolf made, but they tasted fine.
With his mouth set into a pout, he carried the plate to Caleb. The little wolf’s fingers trembled as he set the food down, his chest tightening when he stared at the man’s wide brow and the shock of pale hair falling across it.
The white wolf’s nose twitched, and he blinked his eyes. “I thought you were sick of venison?”
Wild shrugged and perched on the side of the bed. “It’s all we have. I told Dr. Richards we wouldn’t eat any more rabbit, so I guess I’ll have to release all the ones in the traps. Do you like them?”
Caleb struggled to pick one up, half the contents spilling back onto the plate. When he took a bite, a smear of mustard stained his lips. “It’s good – wonderful. Thanks.”
The little wolf dabbed the man’s lips and grinned. Wild picked up the sandwich and held it to his mate’s mouth. For a moment, Caleb stared at him – his expression odd, as if he’d never seen the little wolf in his life and he was taking in every aspect of him for the first time. Then he opened his mouth and took a hearty bite.
“You really are going to take care of me,” he grumbled and picked at the chips.
“I said I would. I’d do anything for you.”
The white wolf’s jaw tensed, and he nodded stiffly. “Don’t wander too far in the woods today. If you want to go to the woodshop, keep the door closed while you work. If anything happened to you . . .” his words died, and Wild held another bite to his mouth.
Caleb’s eyes drooped throughout the meal, and the little wolf’s heart clenched. The doctor said he’d be tired, but he’d never seen the man vulnerable before. It’d always been the other way around. Now Wild would nurse his mate back to health. It was another chance to prove how capable he was – as long as he didn’t screw it up.
He helped the Caleb settle back in bed when he was finished, and pulled the covers over him, the little wolf’s fingers lingering on the thick muscles and the rough hair that covered the man’s chest. He even opened the window and let the breeze blow through the room as Caleb fell into the steady rhythm of sleep.
After he cleared the rest of the man’s plate and ate his own lunch, Wild slunk outside to check the boarders of their territory, sniffing the air for a hint of the hunter’s blood.
Nothing.
When he squeezed his eyes shut, he remembered the dead bear. Her cubs were somewhere on the mountain, alone and scared, unless the hunter already got to them. The little wolf couldn’t leave them like that – not after what already happened to their mother. They’d die on their own.
But if he left Caleb alone and the hunter found their cabin – dammit! What was he supposed to do?
Wild locked the front and back doors and slipped the key into his pocket. The hunter wouldn’t know for certain this was their cabin, not if Caleb was in his human form. He’d get the bear cubs and be back before the white wolf even woke from his nap.
The trek back into the woods made his hackles rise, and he stepped carefully and even wore the stupid hiking boots just in case he stumbled across another trap. The mother bear’s cave sat just over the edge of Caleb’s territory, up the mountain and tucked behind a curtain of massive fir trees.
Wild stopped and sniffed the air before he ducked into the cave – the scent of bear was so strong it masked everything else, even the smell of a human. If the hunter were there, he’d just have to kill the bastard.
Something rustled inside the cave, and he carefully pushed the branches aside. Two sets of yellow eyes met his, the little bears about a foot taller than the last time he’d seen them. They walked out of the cave, sniffing at him and making little sounds, baring their fangs every now and then just to be sure he wasn’t going to hurt them.
Wild furrowed his brow, his eyes stinging when he looked at their round ears and snouts. They weren’t were-bears so they wouldn’t understand what happened to their mother. He’d have to take them home and ask Caleb what to do with them.
Reaching forward, he gently patted them on the head and took one of their paws in each hand. Hopefully, they’d make the hike back easy. With one last glance at their cave, he led the bears down the mountain, keeping to the w
oods so no humans saw what he was doing. They’d probably think he’d lost his mind.
The very trees seemed to watch him as they descended back toward the cabin. Every rustle of wind through the green leaves made the little wolf whip around, as if another bolt came sailing through the air, aimed right at his chest. He shook his head and walked as quickly as he could with two baby bears in tow.
Caleb would be angry with him again for disobeying his orders. The thought twisted in Wild’s heart like a knife, and his breath caught in his throat. The man’s icy eyes got a certain sheen when he was mad, and they hardened like they could cut through pure steel.
The little wolf’s chest ached. He thought of the look on Caleb’s face when he gave the man flowers that morning. The white wolf’s pale cheeks flushed and his shoulders relaxed.
A different kind of wild flower littered the ground here, little red poppies growing in huge clumps, like spilled blood on the forest floor. The bear cubs sniffed at the open blossoms and sneezed, shaking their dark heads.
Wild grinned as he gathered a handful of the flowers. Get well soon flowers, that’s what humans gave each other when they were sick. When his gran was sick, he brought her flowers too. She’d smiled, her wrinkled face like a peach left out in the sun, and patted his cheek with her calloused palms.
That was the last time he’d seen her, and it still hurt after all these years – but it didn’t hurt as badly as it used to. Instead, another pang stabbed him right in the gut, and the little wolf almost dropped the poppies when the truth slammed into him.
Caleb was his mate, but that was what his wolfish instincts told him. They were meant to be together, no matter what, because of the pull. But this new throb in his chest was something else – not only mates, but love.
He loved Caleb.
After all that time in the woods, he didn’t even think he’d be capable of regaining his life as a human. Much less falling in love like one. But every time he thought of the white wolf, his stomach did backflips and his heart hurt – like it wanted to burst out of his chest.
He loved Caleb.
He loved his mate in all possible ways.
What was he supposed to do about it when the man wouldn’t claim him?
Then a shout broke in the clearing ahead, and a flock of sparrows took off out of the trees.
Wild gripped the poppies in his hand and ushered the cubs through the woods, urging them forward as they neared the sound. It came from the cabin – angry voices and the subtle musk of Eurasian wolves. The valley pack was encroaching on their territory now?
Shit!
The cubs perked up their ears, but huddled around his legs the closer they got to the clearing. He couldn’t very well waltz up with the bears clinging to his pants, so he hurried them to the lean-to and put them inside, locking the door for good measure. There wasn’t anything in there they could destroy.
Then he slunk around the cabin, peeking in Caleb’s window to see if his mate was still inside.
No.
Where the hell was he?
“You’re on my territory now, alpha or not,” the white wolf grumbled.
Wild’s heart stood still in his chest. Caleb got out of bed for the rival wolves? Injured and all on his own? Dammit!
“And you’re in no condition to fight,” someone growled in a precise Russian accent. They smelled the blood, even if they didn’t know where the injury was. Any fight would reveal the white wolf’s weakness soon enough.
The crunch of gravel and the rumbling engine of a car muffled the next exchange, but the little wolf didn’t wait any longer. He rushed around the cabin and jumped in front of Caleb, who stood on the porch, a shirt draped over his wounded shoulder.
Three of the Eurasian wolves stood there, the alpha, the beta and Dmitri – the one Wild attacked. It looked like his nose had healed nicely since he didn’t have a bruise on him. Sam’s car pulled behind them as the little wolf slid to a stop, stumbling on the stupid boots.
The white wolf’s eyes widened, and he set his strong jaw.
All three Russian brothers glared daggers at Wild, but Dmitri was the only one to step forward. The little wolf tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted when Sam climbed out of his car. That changeling had his own pack – his own mates – no matter what happened between him and Caleb.
“Get off our territory,” the little wolf said and stood his ground. “You have no right to be here.”
Caleb’s strong hand clamped his shoulder, and he tensed under the touch. But the man didn’t urge him back or step in front of him – did he actually trust Wild to protect him?
“You had no right to attack Sammy, but that didn’t stop you!” Dmitri said, and the changeling rolled his eyes as he stood next to his pack mates.
“This isn’t going to help anything,” Sam said, and glared at the Eurasian wolves.
Definitely a changeling. No born and bred mid-ranked wolf would ever take that tone with his alpha and beta.
“Stand back,” the alpha growled, and flung a strand of dark hair over his shoulder.
Three against one. The odds weren’t in their favor, and that was if Sam didn’t take his pack’s side. If Caleb wasn’t injured maybe they could’ve managed. Why did this have to happen today?
“Why are you here?” the white wolf asked before Sam could respond to his leader.
“For restitution,” Dmitri barked, but the beta put a hand on the man’s tense shoulder, and he shut up.
“The hunter that omega roused harmed one of my brothers,” the alpha growled, and his fists paled as he clenched his hands.
“When?” Wild asked, trying to calm his racing heart.
“This morning when he went for a run. He barely made it to our territory. If it wasn’t for Sam . . .” the alpha’s jaw tensed as his words trailed off.
“Pasha will be fine,” Sam said, his brown eyes softening for the first time since he’d arrived. “But this isn’t going to help matters. They aren’t the hunter! Why come here when it’s not their fault.”
But it was his fault, Wild thought, and gritted his teeth. Something didn’t make sense. One of the Eurasian wolves was wounded around the same time as Caleb, but the hunter couldn’t have gotten down the mountain that quickly, especially so far from the road.
“Was he on the mountain? Up high near the tree line?” Wild asked.
“No, omega, he was in the hills around the valley,” the beta grumbled.
The little wolf glanced up at Caleb. The man’s eyes had a dark smudge underneath and the crow’s feet around them were pinched. He needed to get back to bed, but no way he’d go with the Eurasian pack hanging around.
“The hunter attacked us this morning too, only we were on the mountain,” the little wolf said.
The Eurasians stared at him, then erupted into a conversation in a language Wild didn’t understand. Russian, he presumed, and frowned at all of them.
Sam rolled his eyes again. “He was attacked at the same time? What does that mean? There are two hunters?”
A drop of sweat ran down Wild’s back. One hunter was bad enough – what the hell were they supposed to do against two?
“It would seem that way,” Caleb said, his hand still grasping the little wolf’s shoulder.
Then Wild realized it wasn’t just because the man was offering him reassurance, Caleb needed to lean on the smaller wolf for support. His blood turned to ice, and he glared at the wolves disturbing his wounded mate.
“If there’s more than one hunter, it’s still his fault they’re here!” Dmitri said, and Sam grabbed his wildly flaying arms and kissed his hands. The wolf’s green eyes fell to his mate, but the determined set of his lips didn’t quiver.
The alpha sighed. “So we’re both under attack, from the mountain and in the valley.”
“It would seem so,” Caleb said with a heavy sigh.
Before Wild arrived, the white wolf and the Eurasian pack lived in a sort of stilted peace with each other, at least tha
t’s what it seemed like. But the little wolf showed up and ruined it. He killed the chickens. Alerted the hunters to the presence of wolves. Those poor cubs lost their mother because of him – and now two wolves, one he loved, were wounded.
Wild wanted to prove himself worthy of Caleb, but how could he do that when he made everything worse? There was only one way to fix things, and his gut turned when he thought of it.
“I’ll take care of them both,” he said and glowered at the valley pack.
Caleb’s fingers dug into his taut flesh, but the little wolf ignored it.
“It’s my fault they’re here, and I’ll kill both of them. It’s the only thing I can do now to make this situation right.”
The alpha stared at him, his eyes narrowed. Dmitri huffed, though he didn’t say anything.
“We’ll help,” Sam said suddenly.
“What? I don’t need your help! You can hardly fight, let alone track a hunter and kill it! They’re human, just like you used to be,” the little wolf said and glowered at the damn changeling.
His pack seemed to agree, both the alpha and beta shaking their heads, and Dmitri grumbling something about Sam’s involvement being forbidden, but the mid-ranked wolf ignored them all.
“I’m going to help whether the rest of my pack does or not. We have a stake in this too – we all do – and if we let him go out there alone, we’re no worse than the hunters. I sure as hell don’t understand most wolf behavior, but this is the worst of all. Pasha’s hurt. Caleb’s hurt. Let’s fix this so those hunters don’t kill someone.”
It was a better speech than Wild’s own, but he still glared at Sam. He was not working with the one other wolf that caught his mate’s attention, no matter how fleeting that attention was.
The alpha stepped forward. “Fine. We’ll work with you to be rid of the hunters, but if you can’t find them we’ll hold you responsible for anything else they do. Agreed?”
Wild glowered at the wolf, but nodded stiffly nonetheless. What other sort of bargain could he make when the hunter’s presence was due to his carelessness?
After another discussion in Russian, the valley pack climbed back into their cars and drove away. Dmitri glared hard at Wild as he and Sam pulled back toward the road. Once they were gone, Wild’s knees gave out, and he sat down heavily on the porch steps. What did he just agree to do?