Wolf Hunter

by Loveless, Ryan

  “I killed him.” Westley began to weep. “I didn’t mean to. But I was protecting my mate. I didn’t know what I was doing and I...”

  “Hey—” Tom’s voice was gentle.

  “I shifted.”

  “Westley, I’m at my parents’ house. You need to come here. Denton went on a killing spree last night. I want you here where I can keep you safe.”

  Westley hiccoughed. “Jaylen’s hurt bad. I need—”

  “Bring him. But Westley? He’ll be on lock down and if he even looks like he’s thinking about killing a wolf, I will end him.”

  “But if I hurt you protecting him, I won’t live with myself. I killed Cody.” He announced this with a sob that racked his chest.

  “I’m pack alpha, West. If you hurt me, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

  Hearing the authority in Tom’s voice settled him. Westley sniffed away another sob and quietly said they were on their way. Once Tom hung up, Westley fished the truck keys out of his pocket, gathered up his clothes and shoes, and returned to the pickup.

  Jaylen slept the whole way to the Wards’ home. It was a three story Victorian mansion located a half mile outside the town limits. There were other homes around, equally grand, each separated from the other by high fences to the sides, a line of forest at the back that led down to La Mer Creek, and tennis courts or swimming pools in the middle. Westley carried Jaylen from the truck into the house through the back door that opened into the kitchen and down the stairs to the spare room in the basement. Tom followed him the whole way.

  “Don’t you dare put him down on anything. He stinks.”

  “He peed himself,” Westley said. “You would too in his situation.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Tom said. “Here.” Grabbing Jaylen under his arms, Tom tugged him away from Westley and held him up. “Take his pants off.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to do it, so you have to. Hurry up. I’ve got a house of wolves upstairs we’re hiding him from. The faster his clothes get in the washer, the better.”

  Sighing, Westley shucked Jaylen’s pants and underwear. It didn’t feel right to look, even though he’d already seen it all—and tasted it—so he kept his gaze averted. Jaylen made a pained noise but didn’t wake up. “Do you at least have something for him to wear?”

  Tom didn’t answer. When Westley looked up, Tom was staring down at the marks Denton’s torture had left on Jaylen’s body. With more care than before, he laid him face down on the bed. “He did a number on him, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Westley said.

  “Would you get him some clothes?”

  Tom pulled a pair of underwear from a drawer and tossed them at Westley. “Go crazy.”

  “Thanks,” Westley said dryly.

  Tom nodded. He waited until Westley had wrangled the underwear on Jaylen. Then he pulled his handcuffs from his back pocket and reached for Jaylen’s wrist.

  “Don’t cuff him!” Westley protested when Tom tried to handcuff Jaylen to the bed, pointing out his raw wrists.

  “He’s not getting free reign of the house, West,” Tom said, and after some discussion that involved Westley crossing his arms and shaking his head “no” at Tom’s every suggestion, they settled on tying a rope around his waist and ankles, followed by some other rope wizardry Westley couldn’t follow, which Tom concluded by knotting it beneath the bed’s antique oak frame. Tom wanted to loop it around Jaylen’s neck as well, but Westley put a stop to that.

  Tom gathered up Jaylen’s clothes. “You’re good here?”

  “If I write down some herbs, can you get them from my kitchen?” Westley asked. “I want to make a salve for him.”

  “I can send someone,” Tom said. “I get to do that now that I’m in charge.”

  Westley smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time since that damned team meeting had introduced Denton into his life. Even the discussion about how to bind Jaylen had been carried out with the humor and ease he and Tom normally shared. “You’ve always done that, Mr. Heir Apparent.”

  Tom grinned back. “Yeah, yeah. Write down whatever you need, and I’ll make sure Wolf City’s most wanted gets it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yep.” Tom turned to go. “If he moves, hit him with this.” He handed Westley a ceramic vase off the dresser. Westley obediently held it in his lap as he sat on the chair opposite the bed.

  “You got something I can write with?”

  Tom produced his phone, tapped and swished through a few screens and gave Westley his full attention. Westley rattled off a list of essential items, which Tom dutifully typed. “Anything else?”

  Westley looked at Jaylen, who had settled into a fitful sleep. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

  Tom squeezed Westley’s shoulder. “You’re asking the wrong guy.”

  “He will.” Westley didn’t move his focus from Jaylen as Tom left. He heard the door close. Setting the vase down, he reached forward to take Jaylen’s limp hand. “You’ll be fine,” he promised. “You’ll see.” Silently, he added, “My mate.”

  JAYLEN PRESSED DOWN with his knees and hands. Sure felt like a bed under him. He shifted. Rope around his waist, but it didn’t feel restrictive. His nipples scraped cloth. Felt like sheets, which meant he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Same sensation against his legs. No pants either. He was wearing underwear, though, which felt loose around the leg. He judged all this without opening his eyes. Had he made it back to the motel and strapped himself down? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in a truck. He was five, six, seven… well, however many hours out from his detox. His arrest-cum-capture had happened at the tail end, and he’d suffered a few aftereffects as he hung in the cell, but being tortured was a damn good way to hide that.

  “You’re awake!” Jaylen opened his eyes. Westley had positioned his huge smiling head right in Jaylen’s face. “How do you feel?”

  Jaylen sat up. He glanced down at his groin and back at Westley. He thought about leading with “You’re a goddamned werewolf.” Figuring he should get aware of his situation first, he said, “Where are my clothes?”

  “In the laundry,” Westley said. “You smelled like pee.”

  “And the tighty whities?”

  “Tom’s. But they’re clean,” Westley said, his tone vibrant with earnestness, as if that would be Jaylen’s first concern upon waking from unconsciousness to find he was in a stranger’s underpants. Taking a moment to consider, Jaylen decided it would be.

  “Thanks,” he said gruffly. He didn’t bother turning away to cough. His throat was raw from screaming, so much so that he decided to put off asking who Tom was until later.

  “Do you want water? I’ve got—” Westley cut himself off. He knocked the wicker desk chair he was sitting in over when he hopped up and almost spilled the plastic cup that he snatched off the dresser. Westley offered Jaylen the tall cup with both hands, holding it like a chalice. Jaylen stopped his smile when he remembered that as a wolf Westley shared a few of the same traits.

  He took the water and sipped. No sense in being rude. Wolf hunting was all about professionalism. Rudeness was a sign that feelings were involved, when it was as simple as stab and twist. The water swished funny in his mouth, hitting places it shouldn’t. He followed it with his tongue and found the hole where his molar used to be.

  “Sorry about your tooth,” Westley said. He offered what he probably thought was an empathetic smile, but it really only made him look constipated.

  “It happens,” Jaylen said. “Don’t suppose you saved it?”

  “Sorry,” Westley said. “Kind of more focused on getting you down here before...” He trailed off, and Jaylen finished the sentence in his head. Before anyone ate you. Jaylen could understand why Westley wouldn’t want to remind Jaylen of anything to do with werewolves, but why wasn’t he jumping up to point the finger at Westley? A few minutes of peace. That’s all this is.

  “How do you feel otherwise?”

/>   Jaylen took a moment to catalog how his body reacted when he twisted, raised his arms, cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, bent his feet. “Fine. A little sore but nothing like...” He rolled his shoulders. Nothing like the pain that comes from being whipped and burned and hung by my wrists for hours. “A thousand times better than I’d expect.”

  “I put a healing salve on you,” Westley said. “I made it from my garden.”

  Jaylen raised his glass. “Well, God bless your garden.” He drank again. Westley urged him to empty the cup by waving at its bottom each time Jaylen slowed. Jaylen up-ended it to show he’d taken it to the last drop and set it on the nightstand. He scoped the room. It had the aura of early 90s teen boy about it. Red carpeting, pop culture prints on the walls and, a mother’s touch, an old quilt hanging over a frayed green lounge chair. Maybe it was Westley’s childhood room?

  “This your parents’ house?”

  “Tom’s parents’.”

  “The guy who’s underwear I’m wearing.”

  “Tall guy. Taller than me?” Westley demonstrated by raising a hand to hover above his head. “You killed Austin in front of him?” Jaylen wasn’t sure why he inflected that as a question. Seemed like a damn good descriptor to him since he knew who Westley meant now. “Tom” had been a scary huge motherfucker. Jaylen had no doubt Tom would have ended him at La Mer Inn if Jaylen hadn’t managed to fall on the other side of the wolfsbane.

  “Does he know you brought me here?” He tried not to be obvious as he looked for the knot that would free him, then decided, fuck it, get clear and then worry about appearances. There was a wolf wanting to eat him upstairs. Hell, there might be one right here. He might be avoiding the subject to lure Jaylen into complacency before he gnawed on his head... Hell, he’d almost managed it. Five minutes of peace, my ass. Like you’ll ever get that.

  “He’s my friend. And I didn’t have any place else to go.” Westley sounded defensive, but also desperately loyal. He’d used the same tone to talk about that crap tea he drank. Jaylen decided against analyzing that observation. He gave up on finding a knot. Whoever tied him had hidden them too well. The knots were probably lashed around and behind the head and foot boards, and the way the ropes circled him, he couldn’t reach either.

  “So,” Jaylen said, “I guess I don’t need to explain about werewolves to you.”

  Westley’s ears burned up as Jaylen repeated the last thing he’d said before Westley had turned. He suddenly found his hands interesting.

  “What I want to know is how you hid it. Are you a different breed?” Jaylen scooted forward to the edge of the bed. The rope around his waist might stop him from getting off the bed, but it didn’t hinder his movements on it. Westley had sat down again. Jaylen fought the urge to grab his hair and make him talk. It couldn’t be the violence of the action that put him off. Maybe it was the memory of pulling Westley’s hair when they’d fucked, and how Westley’s surprised sigh had pursued a direct route to Jaylen’s cock.

  “I don’t understand.” Westley leaned forward, not toward Jaylen, but so he could fold in on himself. His massive shoulders bunched so tight they almost touched. “It’s how I was born.”

  “You’re a legacy?”

  “Yeah.” Westley looked up. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. Jaylen didn’t see any of the pride he’d come to expect. Legacy wolves liked to flaunt it. Now that Jaylen’s head had cleared some, he took a good look at Westley. His eyes were red and puffy. The pores in his cheeks and forehead stood out. He looked like he’d aged ten years over night. (And he’s still hot.) Jaylen shook off his sympathetic urges. This is why you don’t get to know them before you kill them. Anger welled up. It wasn’t his damned fault. Westley hadn’t set his drugged-up senses off. Somehow, he’d slipped by.

  “How’d you do it?” Jaylen asked again. His raw voice probably helped get his anger across. Westley dropped his arms to his sides and, Christ, opened up like he was baring his chest and—he’s submitting. This is what it looks like—Jaylen stomped down, hard, on his urge to push Westley further, to see how far he’d go before yelling foul.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn’t like that. A hard ass, sure, but he didn’t have any predilections for watching a sweet, dopey guy blush red and stumble because Jaylen looked at him.

  Tell that to your cock. It missed the memo.

  “I didn’t do anything different.” Westley addressed the wall behind Jaylen’s head. Maybe that was a submission thing too. A wolf thing, Jaylen corrected himself. Somehow, thinking of it that way made it easier to ignore.

  Message from your dick: No it doesn’t, you big fat horny liar.

  “Hey.” Jaylen snapped his fingers in front of Westley’s face. “Eyes on me.” Westley obeyed, too quick for Jaylen to be comfortable. “Let me spell it out for you. I’m good at telling who’s a wolf and who isn’t. You, I never flagged. I want to know why.” He left the “or else” unsaid, both because he didn’t have an “or else” at that moment, and because Westley looked like he’d fill in the blank fine on his own.

  “Well,” Westley started, his focus again on the print of dogs playing poker over Jaylen’s head, “it might be because you’re my mate and if you’d known I was a wolf, you’d have killed me before giving us a chance to bond.”

  Jaylen blinked.

  Westley darted his gaze over to him along with a timid smile.

  “I’m your what?” Jaylen asked when he found his words. He grabbed the cup, wishing he hadn’t sucked out all the water.

  “My mate,” Westley said. “I knew it when we”—he lowered his already quiet voice—“when we had sex.”

  “Huh.” Most of the time Jaylen didn’t speak simply because he didn’t feel like it. But this time, he had a whole lot to say and was absolutely speechless. Sure, Westley had been a damn good fuck, and yes, Jaylen hadn’t wanted to leave, but that did not mean they were meant-to-be and heart signs. That only meant they were awesome at sex. He almost sighed at the memory—awesome—but caught himself in time.

  Westley shifted on the chair. He stretched one arm up to scratch behind his shoulder. “Is it weird for you? I figured it might be weird for you.”

  “You know what I do, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I hunt werewolves.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I would think it would be weirder for you, knowing that I’m going to kill you.”

  Westley stood up, no clumsiness in his movements this time. He strode to the wall like he needed space. When he turned around, his face was a mask of accusation. “I rescued you. I saved your life.” Jaylen put his hands up, ready to fight when Westley stepped toward him, but Westley stayed out of range. “I murdered my friend for you.”

  “Didn’t ask you to,” Jaylen snapped. He pushed up on his knees, pulling the rope tight. “And if you think I’m going to bend over and be some wolf-bitch just because a wolf-cupid got you in the ass with his arrow when you were looking at me, you can think—”

  “You’re the alpha,” Westley blurted.

  That stopped Jaylen cold. “What?”

  “I’m, I mean, biologically, I’m the omega. Which, I know what it usually means, but I don’t consider myself submissive. Well, in some ways, yes, but like, I’m independent and I do my own thing and… and… I’m not going to cook for you, and I’m not saying I want to marry you tomorrow so I can do your laundry or anything like that. Plus alphas can be pretty helpless, at least in my experience, and I’m good at helping when they… well, I mean, I can help you when you need support and… and someone who cares about you.”

  “I’m the alpha?” Jaylen repeated. The rest of Westley’s speech had passed over him in a blur.

  “Like that’s a surprise?” Westley said. “I mean, you’re ten kinds of hot and, um, strong, and, you know, you’re pretty bossy.”

  Westley had him there.

  “Right. Okay.” Jaylen gave the idea a minute to sink in. Then he gave it another minute. No matter how he t
urned it, he couldn’t make the idea of wolf hunter plus werewolf equals true love forever fit. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “You don’t know that,” Westley said.

  “But I like you,” Jaylen admitted.

  Westley smiled. “Good. I mean, that’s, that’s great—”

  “So here’s what I’m going to do.” Jaylen cut him off before Westley could stumble over his tongue too much. “I won’t kill you until after I’ve killed Denton. So that means if the last two wolves in the world are you and him, I’ll kill you last.” It was a magnanimous offer. He’d never made it to a wolf before.

  Westley leaned against the wall. Jaylen expected him to protest, maybe to beg, but he looked Jaylen dead in the eyes. “I accept.”

  “You understand what I’m telling you?”

  “I’m not stupid.” Westley hit Jaylen with an expression that conveyed exactly what he felt about Jaylen’s question. Jaylen kept eye contact, although internally he squirmed. “You think wolves are monsters.” Westley stuck his chin up. “You think I’m a monster. But everything I did was to protect you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay.” Shrugging, Westley returned to the bed. He knelt in front of Jaylen so they were knee to knee. Jaylen didn’t move as Westley brought his hands up to Jaylen’s face. “If you want to feel that way about it, I can’t stop you.”

  “Westley?” Jaylen wasn’t sure what was going on, but he felt like he’d missed the boat on an argument.

  Westley tipped Jaylen’s head back. “I killed my friend for you—”

  “Can’t believe that obnoxious shit was your friend.”

  “And since you aren’t going to kill me for a while, I think you should do something to take my mind off it.” Westley kissed him.

  Jaylen responded to it at first, opened up and let Westley tease his way inside. Westley’s tongue might be his one weakness. Damn thing could tabula rasa him right back to forgetting he had any problems. Westley pulled away and Jaylen panted his senses back into his head. “Might kill you tonight. I’m feeling good about Denton.” He didn’t say it with as much conviction as he could have. Damn brain wasn’t online.