Lone Wolf Pack 03 - Expecting His Alpha's Child

by Anya Byrne

  Even so, Parker had never been one to give up easily. For one, he refused to believe Finn was dead. A stubborn part of him insisted he'd have known for sure if that had been the case. He couldn't check, but his heart told him Finn was still alive. He'd moved to give Parker space to escape. That meant he wasn't dead.

  As long as that was the case, Parker had to hold on and at least distract these people. Perhaps Jensen had heard the shots and would get help for them.

  The female wolf had already jumped off the bed and was making her way across the room, slowly, almost lazily, obviously knowing he had no way out and not in the least bit worried about whatever reinforcements Parker might receive. Dread curled in Parker's belly when he realized the woman and her accomplice must have run into Jensen beforehand. But no... He refused to think about that. He wouldn't succumb to despair. If he did, that was it for him.

  Just as he thought this, he caught sight of one of the few ornaments in the room, a wooden wolf sitting innocuously on the dresser. Jensen had undoubtedly carved it and it probably served as a paperweight or something. It would do well... if he could get it.

  He had to try. He ran around the armchair, dodging his wolf opponent, his gaze set on his potential wolf weapon. Against all odds, he even reached the dresser and managed to grab the paperweight, but at the last moment, the wolf—the live one—jumped on him. Her claws raked over his naked side, and with a pained cry, he fell to the floor, dropping his weapon.

  Her weight pinned him against the wooden flooring, her breath hot against his ear. Her fangs were inches from his throat, and for some reason, Parker had a flash of the moment when Finn had bitten him. Sharp... Finn's teeth had been sharp, like fangs. The fangs of a werewolf. This must have been what Finn had wanted to tell him before all hell had broken loose.

  He wanted to cry, because a few minutes ago, he'd been so happy, and now that happiness had faded away into nothing. Was it crazy that he didn't think he'd have made a different choice with regard to Finn even if he'd known this might happen? Yes, definitely crazy, but then, Parker was a few seconds away from dying. He was entitled to have a nervous breakdown.

  He expected the bite to come any moment now, but it never did. A snarl sounded beyond his foe's shoulder, and another wolf jumped over the one holding Parker captive. Unexpectedly free, Parker stumbled to his feet, only to realize his savior was Finn.

  He was bleeding badly, but he pushed her back nonetheless. He buried his sharp fangs in her hind leg, shredding mercilessly. Parker wasn't an expert at anatomy, but he was fairly certain he was aiming for an artery.

  He probably succeeded in his self-appointed task, but the female wolf was still stronger. She managed to push him off, Finn's injuries making his motions sluggish. She reversed their positions, ready to tear his throat out. She never got the chance.

  Finding the wooden wolf on the floor, Parker hit her in the head. He put every once of strength he had in the blow, and the paperweight shattered against her skull. Still, it worked, because the female wolf swayed and collapsed next to Finn.

  Parker didn't have the time to savor his triumph. A heavy hand landed in his hair and pulled. Parker was forced to look up at his captor, who was predictably the man with the gun. He didn't look angry at what Parker had done. If anything, he seemed amused. "What is with these humans?" he asked almost idly. "They don't know when to give up."

  Another man entered the room, also armed. He knelt next to Finn and checked both his vitals and that of the female wolf. "She's just unconscious. Simmons won't last much longer."

  "Good," the first guy said, looking away from Parker. "Take them both and let's go. We still have his father to...."

  At first, Parker couldn't tell why his captor trailed off. He only figured it out when both men collapsed to the floor, and he saw the neat bullet holes in the centers of their foreheads.

  Maybe he should have been shocked, but after the past—what had it been?—three minutes he couldn't bring himself to feel anything except relief. Well that, and the all-encompassing terror that had gripped him ever since he'd seen Finn go down.

  He crawled to Finn's side, burying his hand in the black fur even as he scanned the area for whoever had shot his captors. A dark-skinned man stepped into the room, his piercing black gaze zeroing in on Parker.

  "Are you his mate?" he asked without preamble.

  Parker didn't know why he nodded, but he did. "Who are you?" he heard himself ask.

  "A friend," came the vague reply. If he wanted to be honest, Parker didn't particularly care to know more. The guy's identity mattered very little, as long as he could save Finn.

  "Please," he begged. "Help him. He's badly hurt."

  The stranger put away his gun, stepping past the corpses like he didn't even see them. "Help is on the way," he replied. "There's not much I can do, but we'll get him to someone who can tend to his wounds."

  Despite his words, he was scanning Finn's body with a critical eye. Whatever he found didn't please him, because he grimaced and bent over his body. His fingernails were claws, and before Parker knew what he was doing, he slapped the stranger's hands away. It seemed like his self-preservation instinct had taken a blow from the female wolf too.

  Thankfully, the stranger didn't seem inclined to attack him. "We have to get the bullets out. These aren't regular projectiles that could stay within the body. The silver is poisoning him and blocking his healing abilities. He'll bleed out before medical help can arrive."

  Something perilously close to hysteria bubbled in Parker's heart. "And you'll get them out with your claws? You'll make it worse."

  The stranger hummed thoughtfully. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, to be honest. The claws just naturally emerge during battles." The sharp tips turned into regular fingernails as he spoke, but he didn't look any less glum. "In any case, this is going to hurt, and even if he's next to unconscious, he'll thrash. I'll have to hold him down while you get the bullets out."

  Parker hadn't thought he could get more light-headed, but apparently, he'd been mistaken. "You're... You're joking."

  His savior shook his head. "I wish I were."

  Parker believed him. Clenching his fists, he looked down at the animal body that hid someone Parker had fallen so quickly for. He'd never pulled a bullet out of someone's body. He'd never even seen a bullet. Apparently, though, he didn't have a choice. "Teach me how."

  It was easier said than done. The bullet holes were so small Parker couldn't even see them for all the fur, and oh God, all the blood. But his companion had clearly done this before. He produced a small bottle of something he identified as disinfectant, but didn't smell like any substance Parker had ever used on any wound. He quickly pinpointed the injured areas and showed Parker how to find the bullet and pull it out. He handed Parker some surgical pliers—and seriously, who wondered around with surgical pliers in their pocket?—then grabbed Finn's paws and held him down.

  This was Parker's cue. Parker remembered Finn's smile, his warmth, the look in Finn's eyes just before the man had shifted into this black wolf. He could do this. He had to. Otherwise, Finn would bleed out. His companion nodded at him, and Parker bent over the first wound to pull out the deadly projectile.

  Despite his resolve, his heart still clenched when Finn twitched and let out a low whine. The stranger held onto Finn tightly, his face completely unreadable. "Go on," he encouraged Parker. "This is for him."

  Parker focused on his task and did his best to isolate himself from the pained noises. The blood over the wound he worked on was all wrong, darker in color than it should have been, and that hammered home the truth of his savior's words. Using the surgical pliers, he found the first bullet, then the second and the third. His head was spinning, and he felt like he was going to be sick, but he held on and his hands were steady up to the very last projectile.

  An eternity later, his task was complete. His companion released Finn from his hold and double checked the injuries, nodding in approval. "You did an
excellent job, human. You saved your mate."

  Parker smiled weakly, and the relief was so heady he started to tremble. He dropped the pliers on the floor, suddenly woozy. In front of him, the stranger let out an angry word that sounded like a foreign curse.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were injured?"

  Oh. So that was what the burn in his side meant. The wolf had scratched him. Parker had completely forgotten. Now that he didn't have Finn's injuries to focus on, he was quickly becoming aware of how stupid it had been to ignore that little tidbit.

  He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Parker had the time to hope Finn would be all right, and then everything went black.

  It would have probably been accurate to say he fell unconscious, but he distantly heard voices around him, first that of his strange companion, then others. They tuned in and out, weaker, stronger, then absent. Parker was only half-aware of what was going on, but he knew a very important thing. He couldn't hear Finn.

  Finn was there, though... Parker could feel him, somewhere at the back of his mind. But the presence seemed dulled, flickering, and the panic that gripped Parker at the knowledge of what that flickering meant ushered him back to consciousness.

  He opened his eyes and flailed, blindly trying to reach for a wolf that wasn't by his side. Someone caught his arms, while another person pet his hair. "It's okay," a familiar voice said. "You're okay."

  Parker shook his head, trying to convey that he wasn't the one he was worried about. He still felt dizzy and he didn't quite know where he was, but that concern remained just as present, just as potent. "Finn..." he managed to choke out. "He's... hurt."

  "We know," the voice said. "He's getting medical attention. He'll be fine, Parker. I promise."

  Parker blinked, and as his vision cleared, he realized he was in a car, and the person next to him was Jessie Orwell. "Really?" he whispered.

  "Yes." Jessie's smile was tired, but honest. "You helped him more than you know."

  Parker only half-believed that, but his body wouldn't allow him to make further inquiries. For the duration of the drive—where were they going anyway?—he stumbled in and out of consciousness. He finally managed a modicum of coherence when a man he didn't know was carrying him through an unfamiliar corridor.

  "What... Where are we? Who are you?"

  "My name is Argent, and I'm a... friend of Finn's. You are currently in his... family's home."

  Parker didn't like all those pauses, but he was still dazed and weak, and he didn't have the patience to address them. "I want to see him," he said instead.

  "Soon," Argent assured him. "For the moment, you need to see a doctor."

  Parker didn't appreciate having his concerns dismissed, especially not by a stranger. He was greatly relieved when Argent carried him to what looked like a medical room where William Orwell was waiting, fussing over some medical equipment.

  "Set him down on the bed," William said. "Quickly now."

  Argent complied, placing Parker gently on the mattress. William turned toward Parker, a gentle smile on his face. "Hello again, Mr. Knight. How do you feel?"

  "I've been better," Parker admitted. "I'm wondering if I'm going to wake up and this will have all been a strange dream. And I'm worried about Finn."

  "I can understand that," William replied. "Finn's injuries were pretty bad, but the silver poisoning toned down after you removed the bullets. They have specialists handling it, and they had some extra help. He's going to be fine."

  He bent over Parker, at which point Parker realized he was next to naked, wearing only a shirt someone must have provided him for modesty. William didn't even blink, instead analyzing the already-healing wound on Parker's hip. Wait... Already healing?

  William disinfected the area and bandaged it, but he'd obviously noticed what Parker had, because he nodded in satisfaction. "The wound could have been serious, but fortunately we got to you in time. Now we just have to handle the blood loss."

  Parker blinked at the doctor. "But... That can't be right. How... How long was I out?"

  "A few hours," William answered. "Don't worry. Like I said, we had help."

  The strain in William's voice told Parker that the doctor wasn't fully comfortable with the source of that help. He wanted to ask, but something kept him from doing so. A memory flashed through his mind, everything that had happened at the Amaretto. "Jensen... Where's Jensen?"

  "That's your friend, the owner of the bed and breakfast, right?" When Parker nodded, William added, "He was brought in here too, a little earlier. He has a slight concussion and a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. Erdi stepped in before the... intruders could harm him severely."

  Again with the pauses. Parker couldn't take it anymore. He was trembling and hyperventilating, because everyone had waved off his worries, but still... He hadn't seen Finn. He. Hadn't. Seen. Finn. Oh, God, Finn could still be bleeding to death, and Parker wouldn't be there, and his fur had been matted with blood, and holy shit, werewolves!

  Warm arms suddenly wrapped around him as William Orwell hugged him, rocking him and telling him to breathe. The panic attack slowly faded as Parker focused on the physician's voice. He couldn't even feel awkward about it, because when William pulled away, his eyes only held warmth and a level of pained understanding. "I know this is hard. But... Finn is still... In his other form and unconscious. I can arrange a meeting for you, if you feel you're up to it."

  Parker didn't doubt for a moment. "Yes. Yes, please. I don't care... about the wolf thing. I just want to see him."

  At a different time, under normal circumstances, Parker would have been tempted to hide and studiously not think about how the man he'd slept with turned furry. But near-death put things into perspective, and right now, Parker just wanted to assure himself Finn would recover. He could worry about the rest later.

  Perhaps William realized all this, because he briefly left the room. He returned a few minutes later and brought a wheelchair with him, as well as a change of clothes. Parker didn't even argue that he could stand. He took William's help when the doctor offered to assist him with dressing, then he slid into the wheelchair.

  Outside, Argent was waiting, a silent, watchful monolith. The corridor was empty as William wheeled Parker forward, but Parker thought he could hear the sound of distant voices, somewhere outside.

  They didn't go far. William stopped a few rooms away from Parker's and pushed the door open without knocking. Parker absently took in the presence of another man, sitting by the bed, and then his full focus turned on the black wolf lying unconscious on the mattress.

  Pain rushed over Parker's side as he shot to his feet, but he ignored it. He stumbled to the bed and dropped to his knees next to it. Instinctively, he buried his hand in the black fur. Under his touch, the wolf twitched slightly, and Parker could almost imagine Finn leaning into his caress.

  He heard the door close, and realized William and the other man must have gone. Thankful for the privacy, he climbed in the bed next to Finn and watched the wolf's chest move. He didn't know when he fell asleep.

  ****

  Will leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, staring at the door of Finn's room. He felt more shaken than he'd have liked to admit. This wasn't anything new to him. Whenever he saw a human bond with a werewolf—especially if they were both males—he always wondered... What if? It had been easier to ignore the jealousy when his own son had become involved in such a bond, but with Finn and Parker Knight, it seemed different.

  Will had fought so hard, trying to keep both himself and his son out of the werewolf world. In his heart, he'd known that it might be a bad idea to keep Jessie's legacy from him, and that it would one day come back to bite him in the ass. He just hadn't expected his past to give him a painful slap too.

  Dean crouched next to him, his gray eyes a study in concern. "Are you all right?"

  Will arched a brow. He hadn't been all right since the moment his path had once more crossed that of
Dean Simmons. The years had healed the wound Dean had left behind, and having Jessie made all that pain worthwhile. But it didn't make it any easier to have to face the Alpha again. Not to mention that he was so worried about Jessie he could barely sleep at night.

  Dean sighed, obviously understanding William's silent reply. "I'm sorry, Will. You have no idea how sorry I am, for everything. But I'll do right by you and by my sons." His weary voice turned steely. "This whole thing with Alpha Adler has surpassed any acceptable point. He'll pay for what he did."

  In that moment, Will hated himself, because he just wanted to sink into Dean's embrace and accept the comfort the Alpha offered. It would be so easy. Dean had made it more than clear that he wanted to pick things up from where they'd left off. And that one kiss—the only kiss they'd shared since their reunion—heated Will inside despite everything he'd been trying to tell himself.

  Even so, Will was a parent before all else. Yes, he still loved Dean, and God, yes, he still craved the werewolf's touch. But there were some things he couldn't just forgive and forget, and for him, Jessie would always come first.

  He got up and straightened his back, narrowing his eyes at his werewolf mate. "Don't do anything rash, Dean. We can't afford a pack war, not right now."

  "A pack war is coming, whether I like it or not. Alpha Adler's son is dead. I have no idea where the silencer guilds stand in all this. Erdi won't say." Dean stood and brushed his lips over Will's. "Don't worry, love. I won't let them harm my family, not again. Never again."

  Before Will could say anything to that, Dean pulled away. A sense of dread curled into Will's stomach, and he almost reached for Dean's arm, but the memories reared their ugly head again. He hesitated, and lost his chance.

  Dean smiled sadly and cupped his cheek. "Get some sleep, will you? Gavin and Jessie are in good hands. You look like you haven't had some real rest in weeks."

  "I'll try," Will heard himself promise, even if he knew he probably wouldn't.