As he reached out to check on how his spuds were sprouting, his torso jerked. The motion flung him forward onto his belly, and his feet kicked out. He screamed as the pain reached crescendo. Don’t change, don’t change, don’t change. Tears rolled down his face; he couldn’t move, pressed in the dirt with broken bits of roughage scratching wherever he touched the ground. But he didn’t shift. The tea had worked; the wolf stayed trapped inside him. I beat nature. He licked dirt when he smiled. It was still on his lips when he passed out.
CHAPTER FIVE
“CODY—” CODY WAVED Tom off when he stepped forward, arms out, to help carry Austin. Tom kept one eye on the hunter’s open door. He wouldn’t dare come out now, but that didn’t mean they could let their guards down. Sure enough, the hunter watched them from behind the wolfsbane border. With six yards between them, Tom could hear the dizzying pace of the hunter’s heart. He bared his teeth in warning as Cody scooped Austin up—one arm beneath his knees, the other at his back—and cradled him. One of Austin’s arms fell free. It hung, four fingers pointing at the asphalt, loose and despondent. Tom stared at it. He’d seen dead people before; of course he had, as both a wolf and a cop, but this was his friend. This was someone he’d watched die.
“Get the truck open,” Cody said, and Tom snapped back to his senses.
Now was no time to hold onto showmanship about who the head alpha was between them—not that he would have anyway—so Tom ran ahead to open the passenger door on Austin’s truck. Despite being half a foot shorter than Cody, Austin outweighed him by twenty pounds. However, Cody’s face showed no strain. Tom was running on adrenaline too, hyped up with rage over Austin’s murder and the unmistakable scent he’d picked up from the hunter. Running to the driver’s side, he got in as Cody pulled his door shut. He balanced Austin’s body on his lap, nestling Austin’s head beneath his chin as if he were napping.
Austin and Cody were always at each other’s throats, acting like the whole pack didn’t know they snuck off to fuck every chance they got. There was no need to keep it secret, but Tom had never asked why they did. Now Cody stroked Austin’s blood-soaked shoulder-length hair and twined his hand through Austin’s unresponsive fingers.
“Get to Westley’s now,” Cody said.
“What about—?” Tom glanced at Austin.
“Later,” Cody said. His voice was harsh, angry. Austin’s already dead; Westley might not be. “Hurry.”
“You scented him too?” Tom asked. He peeled out of the motel’s parking lot, hooked a right onto the road, and clipped down the highway heading for the turn off onto the country route that led to Westley’s cabin.
“All over that murdering piece of shit—” He hugged Austin’s body tighter. “Can’t you drive any faster?”
“Without flying off the road? No. I’ve got the pedal on the floor.”
“If he hurt Westley, I’ll kill him,” Cody said. “I mean, I’m going to kill him for Austin, but—”
“I know what you mean. Me too.” He didn’t want to think about what the hunter—who killed with his cold eyes and sharp knife—would have done to Westley. Westley didn’t know how to defend himself; it probably would never occur to him that he’d need to. He chewed his lip, forgot his own precautions, and pushed the truck to go faster.
Finally, he spun up Westley’s drive, sending gravel flying in the tires’ wake. He and Cody spilled out of the truck together, Cody leaving Austin in a heap on the seat as they sprinted for the door. Unlocked, as usual. No care for his safety. The hunter’s stench hit them as soon as they stepped inside.
“God.” Cody took a step backwards and covered his nose. Tom sniffed. There was a different scent too, something that reeked of sickness. He glanced at Cody.
“Find him.”
Hard to displace a 6’6” man, but when glancing in each room didn’t bear any results, they checked under the bed, behind large pieces of furniture and, with their throats in their mouths, the freezer and fireplace. Finally, when Tom stopped to drink from the kitchen faucet, he looked out the window and saw Westley.
“Outside!” He sprinted past Cody, who followed on his heels. Westley lay face down in his garden. Instead of a jacket and pants—clothes sensible people wore when the weather dropped below 40F—Westley was exposed to the elements in a threadbare T-shirt and gray shorts. Falling to his knees beside Westley, he checked Westley’s pulse. He glanced at Cody, who had stopped at Westley’s feet. At least he’d remembered his shoes. Westley could be so damned tunnel-minded when it came to his plants. “He’s alive. Help me get him up.”
After they rolled him over (and smashed something leafy into bits), Cody pulled Westley’s legs apart and crouched down to grab him beneath his knees. Tom pushed him to sit up and hooked his elbows under Westley’s armpits. Together, they hoisted him up.
“He’s a heavy fucker,” Cody said.
“He’s sick.” Tom didn’t mean to snap, but he couldn’t handle Cody’s brand of dealing with bad shit, which was to crack jokes and say whatever wrong thing came to mind.
“Just sayin’,” Cody said. His tone came out defensive and a little wobbly—not unlike how he’d sounded when they were pups and he didn’t get his way.
“Sorry,” Tom said. Now he felt like an asshole. In his panic over Westley, he’d almost forgotten about Austin. Cody hadn’t, and his smart remark about Westley had more to do with that than the fact that Westley did weigh a ton. Even with his wolf traits booted up to hyperdrive, Tom felt the pull on his muscles. They carried him up the porch and banged through the broken screen door. Westley’s jacket hung over the back of a dining table chair. Tom had no problems imagining Westley hanging it there before he sat down to put his shoes on. He’d probably gotten a hard on for his lettuce and forgotten about it. How many times had he sat in that other chair and watched that scenario play out, and then run after Westley with it?
“Let’s get him in the bedroom.”
Cody changed directions—he’d been headed for the couch—and picked his way around it and past an abandoned pile of boots next to a wire brush and a can of black polish to steer them into Westley’s room. It reeked of hunter too. Tom shared a glance with Cody. Goddammit, Westley. They rotated so Tom was at the head of the bed and laid him down.
“Go get a cold washcloth.”
“Sure, because that will make everything better,” Cody said, but his dry mumbling seemed more directed at himself than Tom, so Tom ignored him. Besides growing up nipping at each other’s heels, they’d been partners on the police force almost ten years. Sure, nothing much ever happened; well, nothing they actually needed to investigate. It was a stupid criminal who’d come to La Mer-sur-Plaines and try to pull anything off. If a werewolf succumbed to its natural urges, Tom’s father and a few of the elders took care of covering up “missing persons” claims and assaults. The pack handled its own discipline. Tom had seen it divvied out. Repeat offenders were few. But even so, even stuck on speed trap detail, Tom and Cody had developed such a rapport that Tom didn’t need to look to know Cody was currently getting that washcloth.
Tom sat beside Westley and stroked his hair from his unconscious face. “See? I get to take care of you for once.” He glanced at the door. No Cody yet. Technically, as the pack alpha’s son, he could be as sappy as he pleased without worrying about his reputation, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be sappy in front of Cody, who would never let him live it down, ever, not even when he murdered his father and ruled the pack. He kept his voice soft. “What did he do to you, huh? How badly do I have to make him suffer before I kill him?”
Cody cleared his throat. “Here.” He held the washcloth out.
“Thanks.” Tom laid it over Westley’s forehead.
Cody backed up. He put his hand on the doorframe. “I’m, uh, going to go call Denton, let him know what’s happening.”
“I should call my father.”
“Your dad’s not in charge right now,” Cody said. He avoided Tom’s eyes. “Den
ton asked us for any updates. I’ll be right back.”
After the pack meeting, Denton had asked the volunteers to stay. Tom’s father had stayed too, which was probably the only reason Tom hadn’t felt compelled to give into Denton’s strange pull. No one had actually dropped to their knees in worship, but the adoration in their eyes had said it all. Tom had glanced around at the alphas acting like love-smitten omegas and tried not to let his worries show. Cody had wormed his way to the front and feverishly shaken Denton’s hand. It was all Tom could do not to yank him away. When Denton had fixed his attention on Tom, his smile had lost its friendliness. “The heir apparent,” he’d said.
“Yeah,” Tom had replied, adding, “Alpha” when his father had poked him in the back. “Yes,” he’d corrected himself to the more formal response.
Denton had arched his eyebrows, now looking past Tom to Thomas. “Well, you’ve lived a nice long life, haven’t you?”
Tom hadn’t turned around to see his silent father’s reaction. Denton had flicked Tom’s shoulder. “We all love our fathers, son, but that’s no reason to go against nature.”
“I never said—”
Denton had smacked him, hard. Tom’s first instinct had been to hit back. Don’t you know who I am? But he’d restrained himself when Denton’s grin had broadcasted I know exactly who you are, and I’m putting you in your place like I did your father. “The pack comes first. Your father would say the same.”
This time, Tom had looked. His dad had been glaring. To Tom’s surprise, it hadn’t been directed at Denton, but at Tom. He’d turned away, feeling foolish for expecting his father’s support.
They’d been too much at odds lately. He wasn’t ready yet, not for this. To be fatherless by his own hand. How could he be ready for that? Maybe his dad regretted how he’d raised Tom. Maybe if he’d been a hateful man, cruel to his son and to his wife, Tom wouldn’t have this problem. Maybe then Tom would have dispatched him years ago without a second thought about it.
Tom returned his focus to Westley. Good, sweet (smart ass) Westley. Never any need to second guess him. He said what he thought, which was rare for omegas. Most of them never spoke up for themselves. He didn’t know why Westley was so different, but Tom was glad for it. Now, though, the hunter’s stench was all over him. Tom scrubbed every inch of exposed skin, trying to get it off. He pushed the washcloth over Westley’s cuticles, between his fingers, behind his knees, down his calves, and around his neck. Westley’s clothes smelled too, but Tom stopped short of undressing him. Getting the scent off his skin would have to do for now. When Westley was awake, he’d strip him and guide him into the shower. He’d take his time washing him. He’d be there for Westley, for whatever he needed.
“Nnnh.” Westley made a noise. Tom pulled back, but Westley fell silent again.
“Was that a good sound or a bad sound?”
Westley didn’t respond verbally, but his foot twitched, then his arm, and then he began to convulse. Tom tried not to panic as Westley’s spasms caused the bed to bang against the wall. He fumbled for his phone. Before he could dial the first 9, Westley stopped. His breathing evened out.
“Holy God,” Tom said.
Cody cleared his throat. Tom turned to the doorway to see him standing there, arms crossed. “Denton wants the hunter brought to the police station. I’ve volunteered.”
“You won’t get in past the wolfsbane.” Tom rested a hand on Westley’s chest to feel him breathe. “You’ll have to lure him out.”
“I’ve got a plan.”
“Is it a stupid plan?”
Cody shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”
“If you wait a little longer, I’ll go with you.”
“You need to stay with Westley.”
“Partners, remember?” Tom asked.
“The hunter might come back.”
Tom nodded, giving in. “Be careful.” It wasn’t much in the way of inspirational speeches, but Cody would have flipped him off if he’d tried.
“Thanks. I need the truck to get out of here, though. I want to drop Austin’s body off at his parents’.”
“Yeah, take it.”
“I’ll pick you up later.”
“Sure.” He nodded like he believed it. Like he wasn’t sending his best friend off to get slaughtered. Hell, Cody grinned like that wasn’t going to happen.
They locked eyes; Tom wished he could think of anything else to say except “Stop.”
“Hey,” Cody said, “I promise I’ll stay out of harm’s way. We’ll get him. No bloodshed. All right?”
“All right.” It helped a little, knowing Cody understood his worries.
Westley moaned again. Tom stroked his arm, wishing he was better at this. Westley was right—as an alpha, he liked being cared for, but he knew little about doing the caring. He settled down on the bed beside him to wait.
“NNNH-UHH.”
“YOU’RE AWAKE!” Tom startled out of his own nap and reached for Westley. His voice broke from his excited relief.
Westley batted his hand away, rolled onto his side, and puked. Tom watched it hit the floor. “Shit.” As Westley hung his head over the side of the bed, looking green but alive, Tom went to get clean up supplies and a glass of water for him. This was not the awakening he’d envisioned.
Think of all the times he’s done this for you. You deserve this.
When he returned, Westley was sitting up. He’d wiped his face with the cold washcloth, which he held out to Tom. “Sorry.” He avoided Tom’s gaze.
“What happened? We found you in the garden.” Tom started mopping. The vomit was nearly all liquid. Its splatter covered most of the floor between the bed and the door. Tom tried not to lose his own breakfast as he cleaned.
“Something I ate,” Westley said.
“Why was he here? How did he find you?”
“Who?” Westley asked.
Tom stared at him. “The hunter.”
“He wasn’t—”
“Westley. His stench is all over the cabin. All over you. Don’t lie to me. Tell me what happened and I’ll, I’ll make it better. I promise. I—”
“I told him to come.”
“What?” He must have misheard. “You what?”
“I met him yesterday and he was nice... I didn’t want him to die, and I didn’t want him to kill anyone, so I told him to come here.”
“And he came and didn’t kill you?”
“He didn’t know I was a wolf.”
“Okay. But why did he come?”
Westley turned red.
Tom raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You fucked him.”
“It was my choice!”
“Well, he killed Austin, so your plan didn’t work.”
“I couldn’t make him stay— Austin’s dead?” Westley blinked tears. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“What about Jaylen? Is he—?”
It took Tom a second to catch on. Westley was using the hunter’s name. Like he was worthy of a name. “The hunter? Denton sent Cody to pick him up.”
“Cuh-Cody?”
Tom felt a smidgen of gratification that Westley seemed upset. Still, it didn’t stop him from adding, “I imagine your friend won’t last much longer.”
“Denton killed his family. He’s here to kill Denton.”
“And Denton is here to kill him. So you’re going to step out of the way and let that play out, and then everything will return to normal. Understand?”
Westley shook his head. “I felt something when we were together.”
“You and the hunter?”
“Yeah.”
“Something like—?”
Westley looked at him. “He’s the one.”
“He murders wolves. He is not ‘the one’.”
“I felt it.”
Tom finished with the mop. He put it back in the bucket. “I’m going to forget you told me that, and you’d better forget it too.”
Westley stared at him, hard, his mouth twit
ching. Finally, he nodded.
Tom sighed. “Take a shower. You smell like him.”
Westley got up without a word. He didn’t meet Tom’s eyes as he left the room. Tom contemplated going after him, but he heard the shower turn on and decided against it. If he’d taken Westley as his mate, this wouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t too late. Sure, Westley wouldn’t be speaking to him, but he wouldn’t be fucking around with murderers either. He forced the idea from his mind. Westley would hate him. He couldn’t do that to Westley, to anyone.
Even if it would be for their own good. And that right there was the core reason his father was still alive.
CHAPTER SIX
WESTLEY CLIMBED OUT the bathroom window and hit the ground running. He felt better for having passed out and puked. Since he had a reputation for taking long showers, he figured he had twenty minutes before Tom would get curious. He made a beeline for the La Mer Inn. As a wolf, he could run it in fifteen minutes. As a human, he wasn’t sure. He prayed he’d get there in time to stop any more deaths.
He should have done more to make Jaylen stay. He beat his way through the overgrown deer trails, thankful Tom hadn’t thought to remove his shoes when he’d put him to bed. Westley wiped tears off his cheeks.
His brain rattled off the list of the dead. Ed. Leslie. Austin.
No going back to normal now. Only forward. He shoved through the brush.
“MR. DEWALLIS. OPEN up.”
The wolves howled as he thrashed against his ropes, uncertain what was real and what was illusion. The knocking continued, breaking through Stania Parker’s soliloquy about how she’d never had her first kiss because he’d killed her when she was eight. “Sixteen,” Jaylen had shouted in his mind or screamed out loud, he wasn’t sure. “You were sixteen.” Didn’t matter, though, because in his hallucinations, she was always eight.
“Mr. DeWallis.”
And now this pounding, and the voice on the other side of the door. A police knock if Jaylen had ever heard one. Stania, in her white dress with black polka dots and red ribbon trim, stuck her tongue out at him and disappeared.
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