“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. Well, yes, I do. But I don’t think you should. I want you there, but...” he drifts off, looking away from Caleb, as if he’s embarrassed. “I don’t know how I’m going to react,” he says finally. “I might not be able to control myself and I don’t want to scare you, or God-forbid hurt you.”
Caleb wants to push him on it because he can’t stand the idea of Mack going out there to confront his past alone. But he also knows how stubborn Mack is, and how protective, and he doesn’t want to add to his anxiety by making him worry about keeping him safe.
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” he reluctantly agrees, hating it.
“It’s best this way.” He walks over and kisses him slowly but forcefully, strong thumb tracing under his eye, tilting his head up. “I love you.”
Caleb keeps as busy as he can, trying not to think about Mack alone in the ashes. It’s a bitterly cold night, and it’s been raining steadily since he left, and he knows it’s silly, but he can’t help but think about how cold Mack might be in only that thin tank top. Like all wolves, Mack always runs hot, and if Caleb’s suspicions are right, Mack’s full wolf right now anyways.
He’s cleaning the kitchen when he hears a noise out front, breathing a huge sigh of relief and nearly running to fling the front door open.
But it's not Mack.
It’s a woman, who he catches just as she’s raising her hand to knock. She smiles with a saccharine sweetness.. “Hi there,” she purrs, water dripping from her rain-soaked hair, hands shoved in the pockets of a worn leather jacket. Caleb looks over her shoulder to see an SUV parked at the curb, hazard lights a harsh blink cutting through the dark “My car broke down, and would you believe it, this is the day I forgot my phone at home. Could I borrow yours to call Triple A?”
There’s something unsettling in her dark eyes, something aggressive maybe, but certainly suspicious. There’s just something off about her that Caleb can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s a strong enough feeling, a souring twist in his gut, that he’s searching his mind for a viable excuse to turn her away before she even finishes talking.
It must be all over his face, because before he can open his mouth in response her smile goes dark and mean. With a quickness that belies her dogged and precious humanness, she pulls a hand from her pocket and the next thing he knows, he’s got a gun pointed at his head.
“Hi Caleb,” she says, thumb expertly clicking off the safety. “I’m Diana.”
Caleb knows the combination to his dad’s gun safe and knows how to use each weapon inside it, but that does precious little good to him now, tucked away as it is upstairs in his dad’s closet.
Diana has pushed him into the kitchen, shoving the end the pistol hard against his chest as he walks backwards, hands up. She shoves him into the counter and kicks a chair out from the table with a muddy book. She falls on to it, keeping the gun on him and studying him closely the whole time. “Put your hands down, idiot. Keep them where I can see them.”
Caleb lets his hands fall to the counter. He’s furious and scared and disgusted, wanting nothing more than to kill this woman for Mack. His heart is pounding with it all, solid and heavy, and he hopes to God that Mack can hear it, wherever he is.
“Daisy used to talk about you all the time, you know,” Diana says, voice dripping with condescension as she sets the gun down on the table, but leaves her perfectly-manicured hand draped across it. “My favorite niece loved her buddy Caleb. Always went on and on about how smart you were, how funny.”
“Go to hell,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
Diana goes on as if he hadn’t spoken, long mauve fingernail tracing idly over the trigger. “Tell me, Caleb. How smart do you think it is for a pathetic little shit like you to be fucking an alpha werewolf?”
He can’t say anything, so consumed he is with hatred and rage. “Although,” she goes on thoughtfully, as if they were girlfriends chatting over drinks, “I guess I’m not really one talk, am I? Tell me Caleb, do you like all the moves I taught our boy?”
“Fuck you,” he spits out, lunging forward before he realizes what he’s doing. Diana is prepared for it though, and she may be crazier but she’s also faster, and she gets her hand on the grip of the gun before Caleb even gets close to the table. He skids to a stop, retreats. He needs to calm down, needs to get his on head straight.
He needs to drag this out, keep her here long enough for Mack to come back. Surely Mack can sense his distress and is on his way to him? That’s part of the whole mates deal, right?
“Now, now, Caleb. Don’t go being stupid just because you’re dumb enough to settle for my sloppy seconds.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“That’s not what Mack used to think. I do have to admit, though, you got the better deal, I think. I mean, my God, did he grow up pretty or what? Really, I’m surprised he’s with you, to be honest. He could do so much better.”
“Is that why you’re doing this? To make me doubt my relationship with Mack? You’re even stupider than I thought, lady.”
Her laugh is nasty, bitter. “Oh no, sweetie,” she says finally. “I’m just here to cover my tracks. Clean up a loose end I should have taken care of years ago.”
“Why now?” He couldn’t really care less about the psycho’s motives, but he wants to keep her talking. Fortunately, she seems to like the sound of her own voice.
“Because of you, dummy. I was pissed, at first, that Mack and his she-bitch sister survived the fire, but hey eleven out of thirteen ain’t too bad, right? And you know, I hate to admit it, but I had a little bit of a soft spot for the guy. It’s hard not to, for someone who fucks you so good, you know? Anyways, I was perfectly content letting him be, just checking in every once in awhile to make sure he wasn’t causing any trouble for me. And then I hear from a friend that not only is Mack Nolan back in Lighthouse Cove, but that he’s also fucking the sheriff’s son?”
Caleb swallows hard against the bile rising in his throat, hands clenching into fists. He’s never felt so much hate before. It scares him.
“Did you really think I’d just wait around for Mack to tell his new father-in-law about me? I was stupid enough to let Mack live once. I’m not going to make that mistake again.” She flips her hair and tightens her grip on the gun.
“You’ll never be able to kill Mack,” Caleb spits at her, ready to lunge for the gun again, not giving a damn if she fires.
“Oh, honey,” she coos, voice sickeningly sweet. “I already did.”
Caleb hits the floor hard when his knees give out, Diana’s words hitting him as though he had been shot. He lands hard on his ass, head banging back against the cabinet. He forgets to breathe for a long moment, heart seizing up at the thought of Mack, dead.
Surely he would have felt it happen? She must be lying, messing with him. He refuses to believe it. Can’t believe it.
“I was waiting for him at the house,” Diana goes on. “Wolfsbane bullet to the heart isn’t as pretty or as painful as fire, but I had to be sure this time. That makes you my last loose end, Caleb.”
At first, he thinks the crack that reverberates through the room means that he’s been shot for real, but he doesn’t feel anything but a scatter of glass across his arm. Glass, from the window of the kitchen side door, shattering into a million pieces as a large shape hurls itself into the room with a vicious, ear-splitting roar.
Mack, shirtless and bleeding profusely from a blackened, steaming bullet wound in his back, his face contorted in a beta shift, growl shaking the walls. Caleb takes his eyes off of him long enough to see the look of surprise and fear on Diana’s face before Mack is on her, claws rending up her side with a sickening rush of blood, fangs sinking into her neck.
Caleb has never seen Mack like this, shifted in anger, snarling in rage instead of lust. It thrills him and terrifies him, astounds him, finally understanding the full weight of Mack’s power.
Diana’
s garbled scream brings him out of his daze and he realizes with a sputtering shock what he’s watching.
Mack is moments from killing Diana.
Caleb is moments from losing him forever.
As much as he wants Diana dead, and as much as he wants Mack to have the satisfaction of exacting revenge, he knows that it would break his mate’s spirit to have killed someone, anyone – even her. He’s fierce and wild, but his heart is tender, and he’s not a killer.
“Mack,” Caleb rises to his knees, hot sticky blood from the wound in Diana’s side pooling around him. He may already be too late. He places a firm hand on Mack’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly, trying not to flinch at his growl. “Mack, please. Please stop. Mack.”
He finally pulls back from the bite, face shifting back to semi-human, fangs still sharp and eyes still red, as he meets Caleb’s imploring gaze. “Mack, I know you don’t really want to do this,” he says, stomach turning at the mangled twists of torn flesh that was Diana’s shoulder.
“Caleb,” Mack whispers in half-question, half-whine, before he passes out, collapsing towards him, black blood sputtering from his mouth.
Caleb doesn't remember calling Thomas Perrin, but when he comes back to his senses, Daisy’s father is there, pulling Mack from his lap, laying him out on the bloody kitchen floor, yelling at Caleb to help him. Thomas has already shoved a few towels against Diana’s neck and side; she’s unconscious too, but Thomas doesn’t seem overly concerned with whether she lives or dies. Even though Caleb just stopped Mack from trying killing her, he no longer cares much either, not with Mack so frighteningly still.
“Wolfsbane,” he hears himself saying, his voice hollow and distant. “She said she shot him with wolfsbane. In the heart. She said she shot him in the heart.”
Thomas is leaning over Mack’s back, examining the wound. “Almost,” he says. “Looks like it barely missed the heart, but it is wolfsbane. Hand me that bag.”
Caleb does as he told, biting his nails as he watches Thomas work. He pulls a small vial of glowing blue liquid from the bag, pulls the stopper and lights the fluid with a metal lighter from his pocket. The vial flames up with spark and a rush of color, and then Thomas pours the liquid into the bullet wound with a sparking hiss of blood and flesh
Thomas leans back, watching Mack closely, smoke and the dense scent of magic filtering from the wound, which is miraculously healing before their eyes.. “What did you do?” Caleb asks, starting to sound hysterical. Mack still isn’t moving. “Thomas, is he going to be okay?”
Before he can answer, Mack howls, his back bowing as he flips over from his stomach and on to his back. His eyes are fluttering and he’s contorting like he’s having a seizure, but Caleb still breathes a huge sigh of relief, because he’s alive.
And so it Diana. She’s coughing too, starting to squirm where she’s lying, not far from Mack. “Thomas, get her out of here, now,” Caleb orders, surprised at the edge of commanding fury in his voice, even more so when Thomas listens.
When they’re gone, Caleb gets Mack, no longer arching in pain but still breathing harshly and wincing, maneuvered so his head is in his lap. He rests one hand on his chest, reassuring himself with the steady pulse of Mack’s heartbeat, his other hand tangling in his hair. Mack is covered in dirt and the sickening red smears of Diana’s blood are drying across his face and staining his hands. They’re both too stunned to move, grasping tight to each other, convincing themselves that they’re okay, murmuring quiet reassurances.
Eventually Caleb gets them to their feet, helps Mack up the stairs to the shower. He pouts when Caleb doesn’t join him, but he insists on cleaning up the kitchen as soon as he can. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promises. He does want to get the kitchen cleaned up and remove all evidence of the fight before his dad and Ramona get home, but that’s not the only reason he doesn’t join Mack right away.
He stands in the kitchen, stomach churning anew as he stares at the blood on the floor, a sweaty hand running over Mack’s phone that he snagged from the pocket of his jeans after he stripped for the shower.
He scrolls through Mack’s contacts quickly, finds the number he’s looking for, and then quietly punches it into his own phone. He composes a quick text message and presses send before getting to work cleaning up Diana’s mess.
17
Usually it’s Mack who likes to lick Caleb from head to toe, scenting him and making sure every inch of his fragile body smells and tastes like him. But this morning, the house quiet, Mack still twisted around him in sleep, Caleb is struck with the overpowering urge to see, touch, taste every last bit of Mack to make sure he’s really okay. Again.
He extricates himself carefully from Mack’s warm grasp and sneaks away to use the bathroom before returning to his room and silently closing the door behind him. The covers are already mostly off the bed, tangled in a knot around Mack’s feet. He’s naked, sprawled half on his stomach, bent towards where Caleb had been lying. Caleb stands by the door for a minute, watching him, smiling softly at the way Mack’s nose twitches against the sheets, searching for his scent.
Always stunned by just how gorgeous Mack’s body is, he’s even more so now, grateful for his magical strength, the memory of him bloodied and broken painfully fresh. He thinks about how close he came to losing him last night, the thought filling him with an abysmal, soul-deep fear. The only thing that saves him from dissolving into tears is the expansive plane of Mack’s back, flawless and smooth, showing absolutely no evidence of the poisoned bullet that nearly killed him.
Last night, after cleaning up the broken glass and leaving a vague note of explanation and apology for his dad, Caleb cleaned up the mess of blood in the kitchen – stopping twice to retch into the sink – before joining Mack in the shower where he scrubbed his back clean and cried into his neck before falling to his knees, hands searching his body for other injuries.
They had crawled in to bed afterwards, still damp from the shower, arms and legs entwined, pressed close together, both still shaken, unnerved.
“Thank you,” Mack had murmured into his chest. “For stopping me. I want her dead, but I…thank you.”
“I told Liam. He knows she’s here.” Caleb hadn’t decided when he was going to tell Mack about his text to Liam, but the words pour out of him, split open as he is.
Mack was quiet for a long time, eyes big and close as they searched Caleb’s face. For what, he had no idea.
“Thank you,” he said again when he finally responded, right before they both fell asleep, twisted around each other, holding on for dear life.
Now, gray winter morning light shining dully through the cracks between the curtains, watching Mack start to stir as he realizes Caleb is no longer in bed, any lingering doubts about his text to Liam are laid to rest. If Diana survives her wounds, she’ll be even more determined to kill them. He wont let that happen, won’t let her get to Mack ever again. He loves Mack too much to let him kill her, but he knows she needs to die, and is willing to do whatever it takes to help Liam kill her so Mack doesn’t have to.
The text was brief, just Thomas Perrin’s address, and the words she’s there. A few minutes later he sent another: Thomas saved Mack tonight. Don’t hurt him. He has no idea if Liam will listen to him, but he feels better that he at least tried.
Caleb moves to the bed, resting his knees at the end and pulling the tangled sheet away from Mack’s feet. Mack’s eyes flutter softly but stay closed, hips shifting against the mattress. Caleb wraps his hands loosely around his ankle, lifting his heavy leg so he can kiss the bottom of his foot, his hairy little werewolf toes curling in. Caleb smiles and kisses up his ankle, lips and tongue dragging along the dark hair of his shapely calf. Mack’s awake now, eyes barely open, attentive to his every move as he walks up the bed on his knees, mouth never leaving Mack’s skin. He nips at the back of his knee, marveling at how pale he is there, blue veins webbed brightly under thin skin.
Mack reaches back to rest a
hand on Caleb’s head, burying his fingers in his hair. He crawls it down his shoulders as Caleb moves farther up his body leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses up the back of his thigh, in the crease where his leg meets his glorious ass. Caleb is as hard and Mack is too, but it’s not about getting off right now, not yet. It’s about reassuring himself that Mack is solid, whole, real, alive. About reassuring Mack that he’s solid, whole, real, alive, loved.
Mack whimpers in response when he buries his face in his ass, and Caleb can’t help but remember the bloodcurdling, terrifying roar that ripped from him right before he attacked Diana as she was about to shoot him. It stuns him, the gentleness of the sounds he can pull from such a ferocious creature.
He ignores the urge to lick into him for a moment, continuing his long path up the elegant lines and curves of his body, stopping just below the spiral tattoo on his back, where the bullet wound was, no trace of it now. He knows it won’t last long, but he chews and sucks a bruise there anyway, marking his new skin and leaning back to watch it disappear.
Caleb licks a path around the triskele tattoo before moving back, down, mouth getting wetter, his licks sloppier as he returns to Mack’s ass. He spreads him and licks slowly, breathing softly against his hole before licking lightly, circling him with the wet tip of his tongue. Mack’s hips buck, pushing back against him, another soft moan rumbling from his chest. He still has a hand in Caleb’s hair, pulling harder as he starts to tongue him faster. Caleb’s own moan is lost in the warm cleft of Mack’s ass, and as much as he loves the feeling of Mack’s hand on his head, urging him on, he’s got to get to more of him, needs to taste him and lick him open more thoroughly. He pushes his hand away and rolls him, making him lie flat on his stomach, hips canted up slightly. Caleb settles between his thighs, muscled cheek in each hand, spitting across his quivering hole before thrusting his tongue in to him, groaning when he hears the rip of fabric as Mack’s fangs tear into the pillow in his struggle to keep silent. Caleb takes pity on him, pulls back, drunk on the intimate view and taste and sound, all the perfect little pieces of him that are for him and him only.
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