Wolf Hunter

by Loveless, Ryan

  “Do you think I should move on, young man?” The woman’s voice stood out, remarkable for how quiet it was, how restrained, in this room where everyone shouted. Westley looked toward it and saw Agatha Hooper, wife of Ed, mother of Leslie, seated with her hand raised. She lowered it onto her dark floral dress-covered lap. “The hunter killed my family before we knew the Alpha was here. You want me to move on from that?”

  “There’s no evidence that he killed—” Westley started.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

  As much as Westley wanted to keep up his denials and keep Jaylen safe from the investigation that would follow if he acknowledged Agatha’s question had validity, he couldn’t look a grieving woman in the eyes and lie to her. So he looked at Tom. Tom walked over and whispered, “No one’s going to prosecute Jaylen now. It’s okay.”

  Nodding his understanding, Westley faced Agatha again. “I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you that he’s sorry. He regrets every death.” Westley wasn’t sure if that was true, but he figured Jaylen would have gotten to that point, given that by the night of the attack he’d already been willing to let Westley live and had fought alongside wolves. “I can’t ask forgiveness on his behalf. I won’t insult you for doing that, but I’m asking you to understand that he was a victim too. Denton killed his family.”

  “So that gives him a license to hate all werewolves?” Alex asked. “That sounds logical.”

  “I’m not saying it’s logical. I’m saying that’s what happened. Look, we’ve been talking about converting the humans so they won’t kill us. I’m asking you, isn’t the reverse true? Aren’t we bound to not harm him now that he’s one of us?” The grumbling was more of a mixed bag this time. Encouraged, Westley said, “He isn’t a danger to any of us. He needs care. I’m doing the best I can, but I need help.”

  Robert stood up. “None of this would have happened if someone had mated you ten years ago.”

  “We’re not talking about ten years ago,” Westley said.

  “I declare my claim,” Robert said.

  Westley blinked. “What?” Robert was the beta wolf Jaylen had punched out in the Wards’ kitchen for hitting on Westley. Figured he’d try to pull this after what he’d done there.

  Robert started for the stage. “I declare you my mate, whether you like it or not, under the claiming rules of the pack. I’ll show you your place. All the damn trouble you’ve caused—”

  Westley backed away, light-headed. This isn’t happening. “You... you can’t do that—”

  “Hell’s bells I can’t.”

  “Robert, sit your drunk ass down,” Alex yelled. Westley was relieved to see a few people shouting in assent, but Robert kept coming.

  “Pete.” He called to Westley’s father. “You approve of this claiming or not?”

  “He, he’s an omega, he can’t give approval....” Westley backed into Tom’s chest. Grateful, he fumbled for his hand.

  “He can give approval because he’s your father, still superior to you, even if you weren’t omega,” Robert said. “Whaddaya say, Pete?”

  “If I wasn’t omega, we wouldn’t be having this ridiculous—”

  “I approve,” Westley’s father cut him off, “on behalf of myself and his mother.”

  “I’m already mated,” Westley yelled. His mother hadn’t told him if she’d informed Pete of that, but Westley couldn’t imagine she hadn’t... unless the idea of him and Jaylen together was so shameful she’d kept it to herself. “So sit back down.”

  Robert had one foot on the steps. He didn’t move. “Like fuck, son. Who are you mated to?” He scanned the crowd. “Put your hand up if you’ve tamed La Mer’s wild omega.”

  Westley stared out. Shit. He’d dug himself into a bigger hole. He couldn’t say he was mated to Jaylen. After the pack’s reaction to his plea for clemency, they’d want both their heads on a spike. Tom squeezed his elbow and wrapped his other arm around Westley’s chest. “Just go with this, okay?” he whispered.

  Westley nodded.

  Tom guided him back to the podium. Holding Westley close, he said, “Westley is mated to me.”

  Instead of the gasp Westley expected from the attendees, and which he himself suppressed, the response was silence.

  “I haven’t said anything,” Tom continued, “because as pack alpha I’m expected to produce heirs. Obviously, that won’t be happening now. In light of everything going on, I didn’t want to ignite another scandal. But Westley and I are together and we’re very happy. So, that’s that. Robert, sit down. I’m going to let Westley get back to Jaylen, who no one will touch. I don’t care if you agree. As pack alpha, I command it.” He unpeeled himself from Westley and kissed him on the cheek. “See you at home, honey,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Thanks,” Westley said, much quieter. Seeing that Robert was still on the steps, he jumped off the stage in the middle and did his best not to sprint for the door or knock into anyone in his haste to get out.

  WESTLEY GOT AS far as turning the truck’s ignition on before his hand fell away from the key. He sat, listening to the seat belt signal’s incessant chime and the radio, tuned to La Mer’s local station, play a “song of inspiration.” He’d put the station on more for the news than the music, but after what had happened in the church, he didn’t feel like changing it.

  Tom had claimed him, like he’d used to drunkenly threaten he would. And even though Westley had always talked him down from it, even though they’d laughed about it after, Westley wasn’t laughing now. Tears streamed down his face. He didn’t know when they’d started, but he didn’t try to stop them. Being in Tom’s arms had felt good. Shame bubbled up in him. He was a mated wolf. He wasn’t supposed to react this way to someone else. But he’d reached out to Tom for comfort twice today, blindly seeking him and each time Tom had been there.

  When they’d joked about mating, it was never played out to be like this. The worst of it was, even though Tom’s claim had only been for show, Westley wanted it to be true. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up Jaylen, but he needed Tom as much. Jaylen was Westley’s mate, his destiny, but Tom was and had always been Westley’s rock. With Jaylen’s condition, Westley had been standing on an ice floe, waiting for the wind and water to chip it away until it broke apart and sent him sprawling into the water. He needed Tom to keep him on solid ground.

  Finally, the repeated chime became too much for him to ignore. Buckling up silenced it, so he did that and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. A single pole light cast a lonely glow over the cars in the lot. His stomach grumbled. It had been a long time since he’d abandoned his half-eaten lunch because Jaylen had decided to spit up everything Westley tried to feed him and shoved Westley away when Westley tried to comfort him. Westley pulled forward out of his unmarked space on the white gravel and started for home. Maybe his mother had convinced Jaylen to eat. Clutching the wheel, he remembered Tom’s arms around him and relaxed until he remembered that Tom would be over after the meeting and he’d expect Westley to talk about his feelings because the poor little omega who happens to be six-six still needs to self-express and then Tom would feel compelled to do some supportive-but-not-really-getting-it alpha thing that he’d railed against in the past, but now he had to keep up appearances, and then he’d leave and Westley would tuck Jaylen in and go to bed alone.

  Westley couldn’t fucking wait. His temper rose as the drive went on. When he got home, he slammed through the (fixed) front door. (Tom had sent someone, as promised.) His mother looked up, startled, before she spotted Westley and her expression changed to disapproval. She sat at the dining table with Jaylen strapped into his chair. The iPad lay on the table in front of him.

  “Westley, are you trying to break that door again?”

  “Sorry,” Westley said, knocking his boots free of dirt. “Did Jaylen eat?”

  “Just the tea. This,” she motioned to the iPad, “is a wonder. Show Westley what you can do.”

>   Jaylen tapped and soon a male voice emerged from the tablet saying, “Two fingers upraised in a V-shape, palm facing the user. Up yours, a sign of disrespect, United Kingdom.”

  Westley bit back a grin. “That’s great.”

  His mother sighed. “I taught him how to make it say, ‘Hello, Westley.’” She turned to Jaylen. “You’re hopeless.”

  Jaylen’s mouth twitched.

  “He’s smiling.” Westley walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “See, Mother? He’s teasing you.”

  She huffed. “Well, I need to get home. How was the meeting?”

  Remembering how his father had been so eager to pair him off, Westley said, “Does Dad know about Jaylen?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because Robert tried to claim me today and Dad gave his approval.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Well, he can’t do that. You’re already mated.”

  “I know that, but it was hostile in there and it wasn’t safe to say—” He hesitated and glanced down at Jaylen. This was not a conversation to have in front of him. His mother seemed to agree because she stood up and moved over to the door to gather her purse and coat. Westley followed her over.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  The question touched him. He couldn’t remember when she’d last asked him that. “Tom took care of it,” he said. “I’m fine now.”

  She stared at him a long moment, her gaze taking in his eyes, nose, mouth, neck, and shoulders piece by piece, as if she’d find his lie if she broke him down into manageable bits. “You know, Westley, it’s not unheard of for an omega to have two mates. It’s not common, but it’s not unheard of.”

  “How did you know?”

  She touched his arm, another outreach of affection that discomfited him for its rarity as much as it comforted him. “I’ve been around.”

  “Tom’s coming over after the meeting to end it.”

  “Don’t let him. He needs this as much as you do.”

  “But you don’t like Tom.”

  “I don’t like him because he’s been a spoiled playboy—”

  “He’s not—”

  “—who should have mated you ten years ago.”

  “I had a choice in it too, Mother. Tom and I weren’t fated.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Your problem, Westley, is you’ve always been so damned literal. Now go get him.”

  “But Jaylen—”

  “Needs you to have what you need so you can give him what he needs. What’s wrong?”

  “When Robert claimed me today, he said the same thing you did. That none of this would have happened if someone had mated me ten years ago.”

  “I didn’t say ‘someone,’ and I didn’t say it wouldn’t have happened. And Robert’s a—” she gestured at Jaylen’s iPad “—a fist to the forehead with an overbite and grunting in Brazil.”

  “A what?” Westley asked.

  “An idiot. Don’t you listen to a word he says.”

  “Okay.” Westley managed a smile. She stopped short of pulling him into a hug, and when she left, Westley closed the door after her and stood there with his hand pressed flat to it, feeling unmoored.

  Westley, the iPad said.

  He turned. Jaylen’s gaze was focused on him, though his head had dropped to one side. Westley walked over to adjust his neck rest. “So, you’re probably wondering what that’s about.”

  Tea. Tea. Tea.

  “Okay, tea,” Westley agreed. “Then we talk.”

  WESTLEY’S TEA WORKED miracles. Already the voices had settled to a dull roar in Jaylen’s head and he could almost distinguish between them. More importantly, he could almost ignore them. Less easy to ignore? Westley. Jaylen didn’t see what the big deal was. Westley obviously needed Tom, and Tom wasn’t a bad guy. He could have tortured Jaylen, but he hadn’t. Instead, they’d had a civil chat while they waited for Denton to strike, and now Tom had brought the iPad, which had led to Jaylen finally getting Westley’s tea, so, all told, Tom was okay in Jaylen’s book.

  But Westley was too busy wearing a path in the hardwood floor by pacing in front of the table to notice Jaylen was doing his best to convey with his face that Westley was an idiot. Westley went on and on and on about how when Tom had “claimed” him it was only “as a last resort” and “to save me” and Jaylen shouldn’t “think Westley or Tom meant anything by it” because “You’re my mate, Jaylen, and I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.”

  Like Jaylen gave a flying fuck about werewolf protocol. Sure, he might be one now, but he had other things to worry about, like the voices in his head and the fact that he couldn’t fucking speak or control his own limbs. Tom was a good thing for Westley, and that meant he’d be good for Jaylen too. It didn’t take an idiot watching them together to know they needed each other. Jaylen had seen it in their interactions when he was tied up in Tom’s basement, and today when Westley had grabbed Tom’s hand.

  Jaylen glanced down at the iPad. He’d tried to tell Westley earlier, but making it repeat “Tom” a hundred times hadn’t worked to get his point across. Westley had apparently thought Jaylen was upset about the hand holding. Tuning Westley out, he turned his attention to the touch screen.

  “You know,” Leslie said, pulling up a bench inside his brain and straddling it, “You need to figure out how to type. Is there a keyboard option?” She craned her neck, as if she could see out of Jaylen’s own damn eyes.

  “Fuck off,” he said in his mind. The way she was sitting made her dress rise up to mid-thigh. He averted his inner gaze.

  “Seriously, Les,” Stania said, appearing on the other end of the bench with a daisy in each of her french-braided pig tails, “How’s he gonna type? He don’t have coordination like that.”

  “See?” Jaylen said, and then wondered why he felt triumphant over something he couldn’t do.

  “Fine.” Leslie crossed her arms. “Don’t take my help. Maybe you’d prefer Stania and I go and leave you alone with the werewolf voices.”

  “The what?” Jaylen hesitated.

  “Oh come on. Everyone knows that the Alpha has a connection to every werewolf.”

  “I’m not Denton.”

  “No, but you got bit by him. Welcome to Crazy Town.” She gave him a mental slap on the back.

  “Been there for years, sister.” Jaylen shrugged her off. It probably looked like a twitch to Westley. Sure enough, Westley’s warm, real, hand touched him.

  “Jaylen? You don’t have to worry, okay? Because Tom and I—”

  Jaylen shrugged him off too. Concentrate on Tom. Ignore the teenagers in your head—remind yourself that they are both teenagers even though Stania insists on looking eight, and it is perfectly fine for an asshole such as yourself to ignore teens—and everyone else too. Werewolf voices? Just what he needed. He’d take his ability to figure that out as more proof the tea was helping, though.

  He stared at the iPad. When the solution hit him, he wanted to bang his head on the table over how stupid and blind he’d been, but he couldn’t because he was strapped to the chair. Westley had stopped pacing when he’d grabbed Jaylen, so Jaylen had his full attention when he tapped Tom and Yes and Westley and Yes and Jaylen and Yes.

  “Jaylen?” This time Westley’s questioning tone held curiosity instead of concern.

  Jaylen went through the movements again. Figuring he couldn’t do it again, he pulled his hand into his lap and waited for Westley to get it.

  “All of us together?” Westley said. “Is that what you want?”

  Jaylen jerked, a nod.

  “I... I...” Westley crouched in front of him, moving Jaylen away from the table. “I want that too.”

  Jaylen accidentally smacked Westley in the head trying to pat him, but he got it right the next time, and Westley snaked his arms around Jaylen’s waist and hugged him. His tears soaked through Jaylen’s De La Soul shirt, making his belly uncomfortable and itchy. He was glad when
Tom knocked on the door. Now they could put this idiocy behind them.

  “Am I interrupting?” Tom asked. He stepped inside while Westley was untangling himself from Jaylen.

  “Jaylen and I have a proposal.” Westley stood up. Jaylen did his best to be attentive. He didn’t want to miss the inept emotional fumbling that was about to play out. This would be better than Ava’s soaps.

  “Okay.” Tom sounded hesitant. “Look, Westley, you know that today was me stepping up as your best friend. I would never claim you like that. I respect and love you too much—”

  “I know,” Westley said. “Which is why I’m claiming you.”

  “What?” Tom backed into the wall with such rapidity Jaylen wondered if a crosswind had blown through the cabin and only caught Tom.

  “Jaylen and I are claiming you. I spoke to my mother about it.” Westley spoke with unwavering precision. He hadn’t moved from right next to Jaylen’s chair, despite his talk about claiming Tom. Jaylen wasn’t sure if that was his choice to show that he and Jaylen were in this together or if Westley had sacrificed the ability to lift his feet for the confidence he was showing.

  Go get him! Jaylen gave Westley a mental cheer. Westley glanced down at him, looking alarmed, but he quickly turned back to Tom.

  “He heard you,” Leslie said.

  “Not now.” Jaylen scolded her.

  “If you think something loud enough, the wolves will hear you.”

  “Shut up,” Jaylen said. That was what Denton had done, planting ideas in werewolves’ heads, making them insane. He’d fucking kill himself before he did that. For once, he was glad for Stania and Leslie to keep him distracted from—holy shit—developing telepathy. (“I’ll take ‘the crazy I came in with’ for $10,000, please.”) He checked if Westley had reacted to that, but Westley stayed focused on Tom.

  Tom had lost three shades of color in his face. “You spoke to your mother?”

  Westley carried on as if he hadn’t noticed. “And she said it’s not unheard of. We care about each other, we need each other, and Jaylen approves, so why not?”