by Limoges, M.
“Sheriff, glad to see you could make it.”
Mike touched the brim of his hat in greeting, but said nothing. Instead, he observed Roberts arm himself with an array of weapons he had no business bringing into a public nature reserve. It was evident the man prepared for a hunt.
“Is all that really necessary?”
“Never can be too sure.” Roberts slammed the truck door. “Ready?”
“Let’s get moving.” He grunted and followed Roberts to the first foot trail. “Where are we headed?”
“We stay on this path for a while, but I’ll tell you know when we’re close.”
Mike didn’t bother wasting time to question the man. The sooner this shit was over, the better. Then he could deal with the aftermath.
Silence reigned for the majority of their two-hour hike. Multiple times, he glanced at his watch and then ahead at Roberts, who trudged along at a steady pace.
Tall trees blocked the sun’s rays, shading the surrounding woods. He sifted through the multitude of sounds—the crunch of leaves, branches, and rocks beneath their feet, birds chirping, a stray hawk’s cry overhead, the scurry of squirrels. Yet with all the distractions, he couldn’t help but focus on the heavily-armed man in front of him.
When they approached the next clearing, Roberts called over his shoulder. “Let’s stop here a moment.”
Great. The bastard just had to deviate from the plan. He knew what the area was supposed to look like where they were headed. Drew had recognized it from the photos Mike had shown him. And this clearing was not it.
“How much further?” he asked.
He scanned the trees around them, noting nothing out of the ordinary. No movement, sound, or otherwise. He was alone with Roberts. When he’d realized he’d taken his eye off the man for a split second, a sick sense of foreboding smacked him in the gut. Stupid move.
Cursing the careless action, he faced the other man, surprise stopping him in his tracks. His heart skipped a few beats before lodging in his throat. Typically, the barrel of a gun pointed at a person’s face had that effect. Wasn’t the first time it happened, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last in his line of work, but the sight still managed to catch him off guard.
Despite the wild thump of his pulse, he asked in a clear, concise tone. “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. In fact, everything seems to be on track.” Roberts huffed out a laugh. “You didn’t honestly think I was that stupid, did you?”
Maybe not stupid, but definitely crazy. “I’m not so sure anymore. Why exactly do you have a gun aimed at me?”
“Bait, Sheriff.” He added with a smirk. “Your boyfriend will come for you, and when he does, that’ll be all the proof I need.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Bullshit. I know the two of you talked, and I also know you’re aware of what he is. That’s why you kept the pictures. To show him, right?”
He held Roberts’s gaze, trying to read his next move. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he inched his hand closer to the gun on his belt.
“Ah-ah, Sheriff. Why don’t you go ahead and toss that over this way?” Roberts pointed to the piece at Mike’s waist.
Right. That would’ve been too easy. He kept his eyes trained on Roberts as he chucked the gun between them.
“Why can’t you just leave these people alone? They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”
Laughter roared out of Roberts, the sound ricocheting through the tall pines enclosing the clearing. “I should’ve known they’d gotten to you, too. You just don’t get it. They’re a damned abomination that shouldn’t exist. If I have to make it my personal mission in life to eradicate each and every one of those sons of bitches, then so be it. I’ll give you an option, Sheriff.” Roberts lifted the gun higher, locking Mike in his sights. “You’re either with me, or against me.”
Before he could form a response, a menacing growl split the air. A huge black wolf darted from a cover of trees, heading straight for Roberts. Distracted, the man swung his loaded weapon around to address the threat.
A shouted denial pushed out of Mike’s throat, and he drew the gun he’d concealed in the waistband of his jeans. Just as he took aim, Roberts spun to face him again and fired. The force of the shot dropped Mike on his ass.
Pain bounded in his chest, robbing him of breath. Black dots swam in his line of sight, and the world around him seemed to slow. Suddenly, he was bogged down by an invisible lead blanket.
Damn, he stupidly hadn’t factored in getting shot. And he sure as fuck hadn’t expected Damien to come leaping out of the trees like a heroic fool. Hell, that was why he’d gone behind his back to speak to his pack and arrange a setup for Roberts in the first place. All so his lover wouldn’t be in the same damn predicament he was at the moment.
He lifted his head and forced his gaze to focus on Damien. The wolf snapped and snarled, shaking the gun loose from Roberts’s grip. Roberts broke free from the hold and reached for a second weapon at his side while Damien moved in again. If Mike didn’t act fast, the fucker would shoot the man he loved.
Hell of a time to realize he was in love, but there it was.
With every scrap of his remaining strength, he lifted the piece in his hand, aimed for his target, and pulled the trigger. Satisfaction raced through his drained limbs as Roberts staggered a step, dropped to his knees, and then fell on his side.
Damien swung his lupine head around, their gazes meeting for a split second before Mike laid his head on the ground and closed his eyes. He was too damn tired to move. The long, mournful bay of a wolf followed by a chorus of distant howls rang in his ears, mingling with the slowing thump of his heart.
When he’d opened his eyes again, a large furry head swam in his vision, but when he blinked, there was Damien’s scowling face hovering over him.
Yeah, he’d probably never get used to that, but he supposed he could learn to deal with it in time.
“Damn it, Mike. Why did you do that? I could’ve taken him.”
He smiled, or at least he thought he did. “He would’ve shot you, asshole.”
Rather than wait around for his lover’s gruff retort, he chose that moment to lose consciousness.
Chapter Ten
The world around Damien ceased to exist. Nothing mattered except his mate. He shouted Mike’s name when his eyes slid closed. Resisting the urge to shake him into consciousness, he eased the thin, blood-soaked shirt up over his lover’s middle, his jaw sagging at the sight. The wild thump of his chest plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he surveyed the wound.
Dark crimson seeped from the entry point in a steady flow, amplifying his alarm. What the hell was he supposed to do out here in the middle of nowhere? Chaos scrambled his brain, rendering him useless.
Fear wrapped a fierce grip around his throat, lodging the air in his lungs and choking him. Inside, the incessant whine of his Wolf bore in his ears, saturating the white noise around him. Mike’s prone body wavered in and out of focus as moisture pooled in his eyes. He attempted to battle the flood of panic that robbed him of good sense, but with no success.
Fucking hell, he was on the verge of a damned panic attack when his mate needed him most.
Pain clutched his upper body in a vise, pressure building until he thought his heart might implode. Unable to prevent the tremble in his limbs, he reached a shaky hand out to cup his lover’s ashen cheek.
“Stay with me,” he whispered. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”
No way could he return to a solitary existence again. Since he’d found his mate, a future without his other half was unfathomable, not worth living. Mike had quickly become the center of his universe, his everything.
Jesus Christ, he couldn’t lose him.
Movement flickered in Damien’s periphery. Instinct drove his Wolf to the surface, the goal to protect its mate. Crouched low, he maneuvered to face the threat, ready to shift and tear into his target.
Disbeli
ef ripped through a layer of his panic. Frozen in place, he simply stared as more than thirty members of his pack closed ranks around him and Mike, forming a protective ring. At the head of the group was his Alpha, Drew, followed by Gee.
When he’d awoken alone in bed this morning, there’d been no time to contact his pack for help. But here they were, concern etched in each of their expressions.
Gee pushed ahead, dropping on his knees beside Damien. “Move aside so I can help him.”
The large Bear’s voice rumbled in his ears, but he scarcely registered the words as he watched the shallow rise and fall of Mike’s chest, silently begging some divine entity to force his lover to open his eyes.
Gee snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Move. Now.”
Swallowing hard, he found his shaky voice. “I can help.”
“I need to staunch the flow of blood before we transport him. I can’t do that with you hovering.”
Gee expected him to leave his mate’s side? “No, I’m not—”
“Damien.” His Alpha’s sharp tone rippled with the weight of his power.
Racked with fear and worry, his Wolf urged him to lash out and attack. Forcing reason into his brain, he gritted his teeth hard, grappling against the compulsion. The foolish action would only result in his death.
Holy mother of God, he’d never felt as backed into a corner as he did that moment. He wanted to howl in frustration at the range of emotions battering him from all angles.
The weight of Drew’s arm settled on his shoulder and he glanced up, meeting his Alpha’s understanding gaze.
“Come on. We need to get him to the hospital.” He lowered his voice. “Let your pack help you for a change. We’ll take care of your mate. I promise.”
Defeated by his own helplessness and lack of control, he released the pent up breath in his body and conceded with a nod. He dragged himself upright on shaky limbs and moved out of Gee’s way.
“Damien,” Gee called out. “He’s going to be all right.”
For once, he clung to the Bear’s words. Otherwise, he doubted he’d survive the loss of his mate.
***
For eight days—some of the longest and dullest of his life—Mike had been stuck in the hospital, biding his time until they released him which, thankfully, was at eight in the morning. He flicked off the television on the wall and studied the man sleeping beside his bed in what had to be the most uncomfortable chair in God’s creation.
With his neck bent at an odd angle, Damien had dozed off thirty minutes ago, and Mike couldn’t help but stare at his exhausted lover. The entire week his crazy-ass Wolf man had refused to leave his side. Not even when the hospital staff threatened to have him bodily removed from the premises had he budged.
Instead, he’d argued and fought with staff until they’d surrendered, setting up a small cot in the corner of the room to appease him. Not that it had made much difference. He’d spent the majority of his time in that god-awful chair next to Mike’s bedside.
To be honest, the first day he’d awoken from surgery, groggy as hell from the drugs and hurting like a mother, Damien’s worried face had been the first thing he’d focused on. He might’ve said the sight of his distressed lover started up that odd flutter in his heart again, but the gunshot to his chest was most likely to blame.
As the week dragged on, he had been grateful for the other man’s presence. Damien curbed the influx of visitors, the majority of which were members of his pack. When sheriff’s deputies from Collins descended for a formal statement, he’d offered his support as Mike gave a viable account of what transpired at the reserve with Roberts.
Mike described how he’d pieced together what had become of the missing men. They’d gotten caught on the wrong end of one of Roberts’s corrupt business deals. He hadn’t batted an eyelash when he explained Roberts had shot him before he’d gotten the location of the bodies out of the man.
Of course he doubted the men would ever be found. The pack had already made sure of that. Drew hadn’t wasted time sneaking into Roberts’s home and office to raid his computer hard drives. The Alpha wiped away any traces of his Wolves and planted a load of incriminating evidence to support Mike’s claims. To the outside world, Roberts would seem like nothing more than a greedy crook who’d resorted to desperate measures to get what he wanted.
And surprisingly, Mike didn’t feel a shred of remorse for the actions he’d taken and the lies he’d told to protect Damien and his pack. It had been the right decision, and the only one he could’ve lived with.
Yet, after everything that had occurred throughout the week, one single thought continually circled in his head. He hadn’t forgotten his epiphany when he’d lain shot and bleeding out on the forest floor. He was in love with Damien Marks, and he had no damn clue how to tell him.
Chapter Eleven
Over the next few weeks, Mike took everything in stride while he recovered at home. He’d spent most of his time rebuilding his strength, preparing for his return to work in a week. The more he worked his upper body with light exercises and morning jogs, the more the ache in his chest lessened.
All went swimmingly well, except his relationship with Damien. Call him a chicken, but he had yet to tell the man he loved him. Each time he considered it, the three words poised on the tip of his tongue, the timing had been off, or else Damien had been too busy driving him insane. After the last few weeks, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to confess his love or strangle his lover and bury his ass in the backyard.
Hard to believe Damien’s pack considered him a charmer, especially the ladies. With Mike, charming he was not. Since he had been released from the hospital, the man had alternated between surly bastard, stubborn nursemaid, and the most irritating, scandalized prude whenever Mike attempted to initiate sex.
By God, his dick couldn’t take it anymore. Neither could his brain. Or his heart? Shit, who knew loving someone could be such a headache?
Right. He’d had enough of this crap.
Tossing away the towel he’d wrapped around his lower half after his shower, he yanked open the door and strode to his side of the bed. He aimed a fierce glare at Damien, who sat resting against the headboard, watching the television across the room. One glimpse at his face, and his lover wisely flicked off the TV and lobbed the remote control on the foot of the bed.
Once Mike had the other man’s full attention, he spoke. “Two things.” He lifted one finger. “I love you.” Then raised a second. “And I’m horny as hell.”
Surprisingly, that hadn’t been as hard as he imagined. Why’d he made such a big deal—
In a split second, he found himself flat on his back in the bed with Damien looming over him.
His dark brows pulled low. “You love me?”
Uncertainty shrouded the rumbled question, and his heart gave a painful kick that had nothing to do with the healing wound on his chest. He’d created this doubt in Damien. At once he regretted not speaking the words sooner. He ran his hand along his lover’s jaw, the whiskers prickling his palm.
“I do. Love you, that is.” Raising his head, he placed a soft kiss on his lips. “So just don’t hurt me or some shit, okay?”
“The moment I met you, I knew you were mine. Nothing will ever change that.” With a frown, Damien rose and rested on his heels with his hands resting on his thighs. “I don’t ever want to lie to you, so I need to tell you something important.”
Mike levered himself up on his elbows, trepidation increasing the pace of his heart.
“Shifters form bonds, distinctive ones that aren’t easily broken. If we’re lucky we find a special person, a mate, which fills a void inside us. You’re my mate, the one person I’ve never expected to find.” Damien’s gaze darted around the room, betraying his nervousness.
He clenched his hands into tight fists. “I should’ve told you sooner, but…I marked you. I made you mine. I claimed you, and I did it without asking how you felt about it.”
He low
ered his head, his regret unmistakable. Dizzying relief rushed through Mike. He choked back a laugh.
“I already know.”
His lover’s dark head whipped up, his startled green gaze widening. “You do?”
Amused, he reclined on the bed once more, tucking an arm beneath his head. “Why do you think your pack was so quick to help me with Roberts? It sure as hell wasn’t my glowing personality.” He chuckled. “Gee scented your mark when I walked through the door. Actually, Drew did you a favor by explaining the significance of what a mate means to a shifter. So you got lucky this time, asshole. It’s fortunate for you I’m an understanding man and your pack likes you.”
The tension drained out of Damien, and he eased down over Mike, propping himself on his forearms. A sly grin played at the corners of his mouth.
“You shouldn’t call your mate an asshole.” He growled, the tone rumbling through Mike’s chest.
He framed his lover’s face and slid his tongue past his lips, delving into his warmth. The heady taste intoxicated him, reminding him what he’d been missing the last few weeks.
Running his hands over Damien’s bare shoulders, he trailed them down the contours of his spine and into the waistband of the loose pajama pants he wore. Gripping the firm cheeks of his ass, he tugged his lover closer, savoring the heated weight of his strong body.
He drew away, staring into his darkened eyes. “You may fool your pack into thinking you’re charming and sweet, but I see through that shit. You really are an asshole who likes to get his way. However, you’re my asshole.”
“So no more secrets, okay?” He bit his lover’s bottom lip to accentuate his point.
Damien grunted. “No more secrets.”
“Good.” He dug his fingers into his ass. “Now make love to me.”
His Wolf man leaned his forehead against his own and murmured, “I was waiting until you healed. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
In a surprise move, he grabbed Damien’s arms and rolled over, forcing him onto his back. Poised over the other man’s lap, he palmed his cock, rubbing over the length with long, languid strokes. With his other hand, he grasped one of Damien’s and settled it over the wound on his chest.