by Odessa Lynne
“Yeah.”
“That’s crazy,” Gerald said. After a quiet pause, he added, “I’ve always wondered what one of them would be like in bed. I bet it’d be scary as hell.”
“It is, but—”
“What? You mean you’ve done it with one of them?”
“I’ve spent the last few days stuck in one of their dens with one of them. It wasn’t what I expected.”
“Is it true? About their penises?”
Devon knew what Gerald was getting at. “What the hell does it matter?”
“Because—fuck it, Devon, I haven’t had a good fuck in a month. You think I should think about going—”
“No, dumbass. You shouldn’t. You should have left when I told you too.”
He thought he heard something rattle against the side of the house, around the corner. He kept staring out the window, hoping to see something that would give him a clue about the wolf’s progress in taking out his competition.
“God, Devon. If I don’t fight, he’ll let me go in a few weeks, right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. There seems to be this thing where they sometimes think you’re their true mate or something.”
“Are you shitting me? What happens then?”
“You don’t leave I guess.”
“But they let you go.”
“No. Something happened, an attack, and someone found me.”
“Not Greer? I heard he was—”
“No. I woke up at Brendan’s later.”
Gerald’s brother-in-law worked for the government’s anti-renegade group and Devon had no intention of giving Brendan up to the government no matter how much they weren’t getting along now. He’d leave that for someone else. It wasn’t like the government couldn’t find out easy enough; they just weren’t trying very hard to put a stop to the renegades’ activities. Everyone knew that.
“Look,” he said, to change the subject before Gerald could ask another question about Brendan, “if you want to make a run for the car, I’ll watch your back. I can’t guarantee that I can stop them but I’ll do my best.”
He put his head down trying to sight the gun but realized he couldn’t make out anything.
“No, wait,” Gerald said. “Tell me something.”
Devon heard Gerald move and glanced over his shoulder at Gerald’s shadowed form. Gerald had had sense enough not to turn away from the door or lower his gun but he’d backed up until he was within a few feet of Devon.
“I’ve had the training. I know what I’m supposed to do if it comes down to fucking or fighting. I’m not sure I’m willing to risk running, knowing what could happen, but suppose I do. What happens to you if I run off and actually make it and it’s just you and the wolf?”
“I go off with this guy and hope he doesn’t lose it somewhere between here and where I need to be.”
“That’s messed up. You already look like you’ve had the shit beat out of you. You’d end up his heat mate, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know.” And he didn’t want to find out. What reason would the wolf have to take him to Kem if he decided to take Devon for a heat mate? He wouldn’t have any reason, that’s what, and if Kem came for him, then there’d be a fight. Everything Devon knew about the wolves and heat season said someone would have to submit or die in this scenario and—and the idea scared him in a way he didn’t want to think about.
“I’ll stay,” Gerald said, his voice firm and cool, and Devon reacted with a sharp look over his shoulder and a relief he hated feeling.
“You shouldn’t,” Devon said.
“Probably not. But I like you and it’s not fair that you get all the good action.” Gerald shoved his elbow back at Devon and jabbed him lightly in the arm. “God, he better be good looking or I’m going to make you pay later. Promise me, if I get out of this and you’re not still attached later, you’ll let me in your pants.” Emphasis on attached, as if Gerald had remembered Devon’s earlier comment in the car and decided he must have meant the wolf he’d spent the last few days with.
Devon scoffed out a short laugh that turned into a groan and he pressed his arm into his side and rested his head on the barrel of the gun.
“In fact, I don’t just want in your pants. I want to fuck you. Promise you’ll let me fuck you.”
“You’re such a sleaze.”
“I like sex with attractive guys. So come on, promise me.”
“If I’m not still attached, you got it. Once.” An easy promise to make, because he was pretty sure Kem would take him up on his barter, and he was going to owe Gerald after this, more than a single fuck could repay.
“That’s good,” Gerald said, and his voice sounded odd. Nerves, maybe? “That’s good.”
“I think I see something.” Yes, there. Devon shifted and tried to sight the gun again. “I’m too far away to tell if it’s—”
It wouldn’t have mattered.
A loud yell ended abruptly as he watched one shadowed form slam the other to the ground and leap on him, arm raised high. The downward slash came almost too quick to comprehend and then the wolf on top roared and lunged, and all Devon could make out was the jerk of his head somewhere in the vicinity of the other wolf’s throat.
A moment later, he leapt to his feet and the moonlight disappeared behind a cloud and all Devon could see was the eerily glowing eyes of a wolf heading toward the house.
His heart pounded and his finger itched to squeeze the trigger. He tracked the wolf’s long-legged stride until the shadow of the house hid him from view.
He wished he’d thought to ask for a sign so he’d know whose footsteps creaked along the floor below them.
“God. Is it him? The right one?”
Devon took his gun and swung around to face the door with Gerald. “I don’t know. Guess we’re going to find out the hard way.”
Chapter 19
The wolf called out from the foot of the stairs, “You’re safe. Come down.”
Devon staggered, his relief was so great. He dropped the gun on the nearest table by the wall, where he’d loaded the guns, and dropped down to a crouch, and then just let go and sat back on his ass.
Gerald hurried over to his side, feeling for him in the dark. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“Here.” Gerald dropped the gun to the floor and Devon winced, knowing how careful Ian treated his grandfather’s guns. But Gerald grabbed Devon’s arm and wedged his shoulder under him for leverage. “Let’s go.”
“Just remember, be careful what you say.”
“I know. Submit.”
“I wish you’d left.”
“I wish you’d shut up about it.”
“You know what, Gerald? You’re nothing like I remember you from that night.”
“We were drunk on homebrew. I’ll be honest. I don’t remember a lot about that except your tattoo.”
“Well, I owe you for this.”
“And if I get lucky you’ll get your chance to pay me back.”
“Yeah. There’s that.”
They clattered down the stairs, Devon putting his hand out on the wall for balance and Gerald grunting at Devon’s weight.
The light in the room below seemed bright and painful after the dim stairway. The wolf stepped into the light. His face had several deep slashes and his chest gleamed wet with blood. He’d pulled his shirt off and he had the same kind of physique as Kem, lean with muscle, dark nipples and hair leading to the waistband of blood-soaked jeans.
Devon felt Gerald tense beside him. “Holy mother of God,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Devon to hear.
The wolf’s gaze flickered between Gerald and Devon. “I can’t wait,” he said abruptly. “You—” He pointed at Gerald. “Settle him and hurry.”
Gerald froze in place.
“Submit!”
Gerald jumped. “I do,” he said. “I submit. Just let me help him first.”
The wolf wiped a streak of blood off his cheek and lo
oked at his hand, staring longer than necessary, as if his rational mind was having trouble comprehending what he saw. Then he shook his head and raised his gaze to stare between Gerald and Devon. “You have as much time as it takes me to wash. Don’t make me wait. It’s not safe.”
As soon as the wolf turned and headed down the hallway, Gerald puffed out a harsh breath. “Safe for who? He’s so fucking intense. I think I should have listened to you.”
Devon didn’t say anything. He finally felt steady enough now that they were off the stairs to take his weight off Gerald’s shoulders. He headed for the front door.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to lock up. If he’s that desperate to fuck, this is going to take a while.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It’ll probably just last a few hours. I could use the sleep but I’ll stay on the couch so I can hear if anyone comes up to the house.”
He looked back to see Gerald staring at him with wide eyes, his lips parted and the pulse at his throat fluttering visibly.
“Stop thinking about it,” Devon said. He started to swipe his thumb across the lockscreen but hesitated. He heard water running down the hallway. The wolf had obviously found the bathroom and left the door open, so he spoke very softly. “You could be on the road before he knew you were gone.”
Gerald’s throat worked as he swallowed. He met Devon’s eyes. “No.” He turned and strode off through the living room toward the hallway where it sounded like the wolf had started going through drawers.
Devon tried not to listen as he swiped the lock, and then walked around and double checked the windows and the back door. After that, he went back to the living room and settled on the couch and had just about drifted off to sleep when he heard a single yelp and a growl and his heart pounded fast and furious for a moment, until the quiet settled again, except for the occasional—
God Almighty. That was the crack of sound his damn bed made when the headboard hit the wall. They were in his bed. Gerald and some wolf were fucking in his bed.
Devon rolled over on his side and pulled a pillow down over his head to block the sound and a few minutes or seconds or hours later, he finally fell asleep.
He dreamed, but when he woke, it was to that jittery feeling of having been torn from sleep. He strained to hear whatever might have woken him, but everything was quiet and he could feel himself drifting off again.
Then the pop of the floorboard jerked him awake and upright on the couch, and he looked around to see Gerald shutting the bathroom door down the hall.
Devon sighed and sat back, rubbing at his face. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and looked at it, staring too long as he tried to do simple math.
Three and a half hours had passed. He looked around at the windows and could see the dull glow of early sunrise trying to lighten the darkness. Somehow he fell asleep again waiting for Gerald to come out.
He never really felt like he woke up after that, when Gerald came out and patted his cheek. Or when he said, “God, Devon, you’re burning up.”
He almost fell when Gerald and the wolf got him to his feet, and so they carried him to the car. Or that’s what it felt like anyway. And then they helped him sit down in the back, where he rested his head on the seat and closed his eyes again. Why were they in the car?
“Where we going?” he asked.
“I contacted Wentarki’s pack. We’ve arranged a meeting.”
Pack or family, or … something. Devon closed his eyes, heard the car start, and then felt the jostling movement of the car over the old road.
He really didn’t like the wolves’ language.
He drifted away again before he could have another coherent thought.
He woke up to sunlight in his face and somebody sticking a needle in his thigh.
“Ow,” he muttered. “That hurts like a son of a bitch…” He thought he saw wolves staring down at him, but in the end, he was too tired to keep his eyes open.
Chapter 20
Devon startled awake. His dream had been vivid, a recollection of the last time his mother had told him she loved him before she completely lost the ability to speak.
He gasped and sat up, and the burn behind his eyes followed him out of the dream along with the unbearable tightness in his chest. His fingers clutched at the white sheet under him, and he let his gaze wander around the small room to take in the sight of three other cots, all neat and tidy and pushed up against the only wall long enough to accommodate them all, and then one that looked like someone had recently been resting there.
Halfway along the wall to his left there was a door. Just as his gaze landed on the knob, the door opened.
Devon’s eyes felt hot and tired and his stomach was cramping, badly. He eased down onto his side and pulled his legs in tight and watched as a crutch poked through the opening, followed by a bang as something—probably a shoulder—hit the edge of the door hard while it was swinging inward into what was undoubtedly a bathroom.
To say that he was surprised when he saw the profile of the man exiting the room would have been an understatement. He slowly sat back up despite the pain in his stomach.
“Brendan, what the hell?”
Brendan turned too fast at the sound of his name and the crutch slid out from under his arm. He slapped his hand up on the doorframe and caught his balance before he fell.
“Devon. Thank God you’re awake.”
“What’s going on?”
“We’re prisoners. The wolves got us.”
Devon blinked a few times and tried to make sense of what Brendan had said in context of the last thing he remembered.
Brendan repositioned his crutch and hopped across the room, and when he reached the messy cot, he plopped down on it, making the bedding fluff around him. He propped the crutch at the head of the cot and leaned down to rub his shin. “Fucking wolves. They made me break my ankle and then locked me in this piece of shit building somewhere on one of their compounds. A day later, you show up, sicker than I’ve ever seen you. You’ve been out of it for the last three hours since you got here.”
Devon didn’t understand what was going on, not even a little, and thinking made his already pounding head hurt that much worse.
“They gave you some medicine before they left you here, but it doesn’t seem to be helping you. This is the first time you’ve opened your eyes.”
Devon had a feeling he knew why he’d opened his eyes. The cramping in his stomach was getting worse. If they’d given him medicine, he was probably about to start vomiting up whatever he had left in his stomach from—shit, he thought. Tuna.
A cold sweat spread quickly. He lurched to his feet, and the room spun wildly around him. He thrust his hand out, but there was nothing there to catch him.
Brendan lunged at him, grabbing his shirt, and Devon’s knees gave out. He went down, knocking both him and Brendan off the edge of the cot. Brendan hissed through his teeth and cursed but didn’t let go of Devon.
Devon pushed himself up off Brendan’s lap and sat back on his ass. His hands shook as he steadied himself and he could taste bile in the back of his throat. “Gotta—”
But it was too late. Devon heaved and vomited all over the floor.
“God, Devon!” Brendan reached behind him and yanked a section of his bedding over the edge of the bed. He offered the corner to Devon, but when Devon couldn’t stop heaving long enough to reach for it, Brendan leaned over and wiped the bottom of Devon’s chin.
“They shouldn’t have left you in here alone with nobody but me while you’re so damned sick!”
Devon shivered, sweat chilling his skin. “Sorry,” he said, voice wavering unsteadily. “Thought I could make it.”
“It’s okay. I don’t care.” Brendan yanked the sheet the rest of the way off the bed and dropped it to the floor, covering the mess. “God, I hate them. I hate them all. You need medical attention and they stick you in a room with an invalid to wait for—God, I don’t even kno
w what they’re waiting for.”
Devon leaned back, propping his back on the edge of his cot, and used one side of the sheet to wipe his mouth. He spit and then gave a full body shudder at the burn of acid in his throat and the taste that seemed stuck on the back of his tongue.
Brendan winced as he straightened his leg. Devon could see the flex of bone at Brendan’s jaw, a sure sign he was grinding his teeth at the pain of the move. He noticed the scrapes across Brendan’s chin and arms and the bruise on his cheek.
Devon drew in a slow breath. “What happened to you? Where are we?”
“Ian sided with them, Devon. Ian. I still can’t—” Brendan stopped abruptly and rubbed his hand over his brow, fingers pressing hard. “Son of a bitch.”
Devon closed his eyes, propped his arm on the side of the cot, and leaned his head on his arm. He was so tired. “I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t even sure why he said it, except that he could hear the pain in Brendan’s voice, the desolate sound of someone confused and unhappy and angry, the sound of someone with a broken heart.
Not the first time he’d heard that tone in Brendan’s voice, but the last time had been the night Devon had ended it for good, after Brendan had drank himself into a near stupor while talking about how he would never love anyone as much as he loved Ian. That night had been Devon’s breaking point. He’d just let Brendan fuck him not an hour before, and then he’d had to listen to that shit on his birthday, and he’d wondered what the hell he was doing still messing around with Brendan, knowing Brendan wasn’t ever going to feel more for him than he already felt.
He’d realized what an asshole Brendan was when it came to relationships, if that was how he treated everyone he fucked who wasn’t Ian, and he’d had enough.
“It’s just—I really thought… God, what did they do to him that he would turn on me like that?”
Devon opened his eyes. Even his eyelids felt hot. “Ian probably feels like someone actually gives a shit what happens to him, if that alpha treats him anything like Kem treated me. And they sure are good in bed. Best fuck I’ve ever had.”
Devon couldn’t say why he said it. If maybe he was getting a taste of revenge for having his own heart broken—or nearly so. Or—no, he might as well admit that he had probably already been in love with Brendan when he’d figured out Brendan’s unrequited feelings for Ian.