Chapter Two
“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider, Jack?” asked Gerry, the owner and manager of Gerry’s Cakes and Bites.
“I’m sure.” Jack stuffed his hands in the pocket of his jeans. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall again, hoping Gerry would get the message that he was in a hurry to leave.
She’d been a decent boss. More than decent actually. She hadn’t even asked any questions when he’d stumbled into her café last week, soaked to the bone with nothing but the clothes on his back. If circumstances were different, he would have stayed.
New Haven was a decent and quiet little town where everyone knew everyone else. Sooner or later though, either Jack’s past would catch up with him or the local werewolf pack would come sniffing at his door. It was a miracle, too, that it had taken them this long to question the new wolf in their territory.
Maybe they already did. Jack remembered the large and bearded guy in the battered old leather jacket that morning who’d badly wanted that caramel cupcake. A strange tingle crawled down Jack’s back at the thought of his arm brushing against that stranger’s hairy arm. Weeks of successfully masking his scent as a harmless human gone to waste at that one little touch. Heck, Jack could barely rein in his wolf from leaping up like an eager dog eager to sniff and inhale the scent of a potential mate.
He smelled so good, too. Like musk and vanilla. A dominant wolf like that could warm a smaller wolf like him on the coldest winter nights. He smelled dangerous, but he also smelled safe.
“You never did learn, Jacky-boy.” Hearing the voice of his former lover in his head made him shiver. Being a submissive wolf guaranteed that there were always powerful and bigger wolves sniffing at him. It was natural for weaker wolves to seek the protection of the more dominant wolves, but Jack had been with large men and large wolves all his life and had become leery of them. Experience had taught him that there were few good men and even fewer good wolves out there.
Hell, hadn’t he spent three months running from one abusive bastard, and now he wanted to saddle up to another one? He didn’t need this. In fact, he didn’t need anyone when he had himself.
“All right. You take care, Jack.” Gerry finally handed over the envelope, which he quickly stuffed at his back pocket. He was about to turn the knob to the door when she called his name again.
“Yeah?”
“Whatever it is you’re running from, you can’t run away forever, Jack. Sometimes it’s good to find a place to settle down,” Gerry said. There was something in her tone that made Jack study her a little more closely.
He didn’t know much about his former boss, and what little he knew came from rumors. Gerry had been a divorce attorney from Upper Cities, a damnably good one from what he heard. For unexplainable reasons, she’d moved to New Haven ten years ago to open a coffee shop, and he doubted it was because she was sick of life in the city.
Jack had occasionally seen her staring off into the distance when she thought no one else was looking, lost perhaps in private and painful memories.
Jack didn’t answer her. He only left the warmth of the coffee shop to inhale the cold night. What else was there to say? He was used to curt goodbyes and never sticking in one place. Just what was it about New Haven that felt so different?
Most of the small shops on the lane were closed. Was it that late already? Jack checked his battered wristwatch and breathed a sigh of relief. Just in time to gather his meager belongings back at the motel and catch the last bus back to the Upper Cities where he could easily slip into the city’s numerous shady cracks and disappear like a ghost.
An unexpected and painful pang speared through him at that thought. Did he really want to run again? Jack was sick of staying at cheap motels in nameless towns and inventing new names. He was just so tired of running. Some part of him just wanted to tuck his tail between his legs, roll on his belly and beg his former lover for forgiveness. He had a permanent roof on his head at least.
Giving up already, Jack? How expected. Jack gritted his teeth at that voice. How could he forget the hazy and drugged filled nights, or the mornings he’d woken up tied to some stranger’s bed?
To Nicky, he was nothing but tamed and collared property. How many random cocks had he been forced to suck? How many cocks had pounded mercilessly into his ass and mouth while Nicky watched on coldly? Jack had wanted to wipe that arrogant expression on his face, but each attempt only led to endless beatings. No. He didn’t run because he wanted to; he ran because he needed to.
Stuffing his gloveless hands into the pockets of his coat, Jack furtively glanced about the crossing. There were a few people about the streets, but not a lot. There were couples and families off to catch a late night matinee at The Lotus, or folks up for a night of drink and sports at the local bar.
Damn, but he was envious of them. They just seemed so oblivious, so carefree… What would it be like to stroll the quiet streets of New Haven with someone special by his side? For some unexplainable reason, he thought of the large bearded guy in the leather jacket. Jack could imagine him bringing him close to him under that jacket to share his warmth. Perhaps Jack purposely wore a light jacket just for that purpose. The large guy’s face would crinkle into a smile, and he’d ruffle Jack’s hair—
Why the hell am I thinking of some random stranger? Hell, he might even be one of the enforcers of the New Haven pack. He’s certainly large and dangerous looking enough. All Jack could think of, though, was how he wished he’d gotten the guy’s name.
Jack’s thoughts scattered when his nose caught a peculiar whiff while he was crossing the street to the park. He’d decided that cutting across the park to get to his motel would give him a good extra ten minutes at least. An extra ten minutes to look at the town he could imagine staying permanently in.
Jack scrunched his nose and sniffed again. The problem with masking his wolf scent and pretending to be human was that he was also as vulnerable as any human being packaged with muted senses and slow reflexes.
It’s just the wind changing direction. You’ve covered your tracks. You should have a few days’ head start at least. Still, Jack kept glancing suspiciously behind him every now and then. Once or twice he even jumped at movement, but it was only the shadow of misshapen trees cast by the lampposts.
These lampposts are too far apart from each other, in my damn opinion. Someone ought to tell the New Haven town council to do something about that. That wouldn’t be him though. He would be long gone come morning. The pang in his heart worsened at that logical thought. Just great, Jack. Being sentimental again?
That was enough second-guessing on his part though or he’d miss his bus. Jack decided to quicken his pace, relieved that the exit to the street was just ahead.
“No harm being paranoid,” he whispered, pulling his scarf about him.
His nose twitched again. “Stop it,” he whispered.
No harm looking back just one last time to make sure. Breathing hard, Jack craned his head and only saw the rustling trees. It was just the autumn wind. He let out a breath. This was ridiculous. He was far too paranoid for his own good. Far too experienced in running that—
Jack didn’t manage to complete that thought. Right then, yellow eyes stared back at him from the bushes, and before he could react, a blurry mass of black fur, claws and jaws leapt at him.
****
With two full bags of hard-earned gluten-free and sugar-free snacks cradled in both his thick arms, Derrick was all set for a lonely Friday night. He wasn’t proud of what he had to do to get those snacks. Derrick had to shoulder and push his way through the small organic section of Teddy’s Market to shove all the remaining sugar-free chocolates and low-carb chips in his basket. It was every man for himself. If he didn’t fight for his snacks, the nearest grocery with sugar-free goods was two towns away.
He was all set for then. Not that this Friday night was different from any other. Derrick had his share of lonely nights. Nights spent biting his nails an
d decimating one bag of chocolate after another, wondering where Jared was and who he was with. He’d always had a sweet tooth and even craved sweets more than fresh meat, so it was practically the sheer and cruel hand of fate that he was now a cursed diabetic.
While sugar-free goods were a poor replacement for the real thing, at least he didn’t have to worry anymore about being barely able to hang on to his mate. The Gamma had never truly belonged to him. If Derrick were really a dominant wolf, he would have asserted his rights.
It wasn’t that he was a coward. Derrick had won his share of fights to the death, and he could’ve easily swatted away like a fly the buffed up buffoon Jared had run away with. He simply thought it was too much work defending someone he’d known he’d never be able to keep. Besides, he doubted he could handle Jared’s searing look of contempt as he helped up his defeated lover.
Derrick emitted a heavy sigh. His apartment just a few blocks away, and a quick short cut through the nearby park would save him both time and avoid the occasional pitying glances other humans gave him. Just another large and lonely guy out alone on a Friday night.
Just as he set foot on the gravel jogging path, a bone-chilling animalistic howl pierced through the silent night. Derrick didn’t feel the bags slipping from his arms. That howl couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but werewolf. An untrained human ear would normally attribute that sound to the wolves that occasionally prowled the mountains, but Derrick knew otherwise. It was a special type of howl that reeked of human emotion, a howl that sounded too much like victory.
If the nearby wolf had just taken triumphantly taken down a prey, the best course of action was for Derrick to leave as quietly and quickly as possible. The nearby wolf would most likely catch his scent and assume that Derrick was encroaching on his kill and territory.
Furthermore, if the wolf belonged to the local pack, then he would be in trouble. The local Alpha had, on more than one occasion, hinted that he only tolerated Derrick because of his family name. One wrong move and Derrick could be packing his bags. Then it would be back to jumping from town to town, searching for a place where the local pack tolerated lone wolves, and those places were rare.
Derrick was just about to grab his fallen groceries and make a cowardly exit when a series of aggressive growls followed after that howl. The sounds didn’t frighten him much, but it was the whimper that kept him rooted to that spot.
It wasn’t just any whimper, but a decidedly very human whimper.
The wolf inside of him stirred from its sleep. Derrick’s human half and his beast half both sniffed at the air. Freshly drawn blood and a mild, but familiar scent filled his nostrils.
They caught the smell of baked goods, of hands that worked frequently with flour, butter, tea bags, and grounded coffee beans. A scent that was attached to a caramel frosted cupcake Derrick had struggled not to eat. A scent attached to face with a crown of shaggy brown hair and dark nervous eyes. The barista.
A growl tore itself from his throat. Derrick had always been conscious of taking off his clothes in public—another decidedly un-werewolfish trait—but he was slipping off his pants, shirt, and jacket before he knew it. Impatience took over though, and fabric tore as the change took hold of him.
Furious. He was so furious that all he was seeing was red. How dare that random wolf hurt what was his. Didn’t that intruder know that that particular man belonged to him from the moment he touched his arm? That nameless and kind stranger belonged to him simply because he had Derrick’s scent. Whatever human inhabitations and reservations the human Derrick harbored about running into reckless fights, the wolf cared for none of those things.
That barista was no ordinary human, you fat fool. Just a scared wolf, but not just any other scared wolf. He’s your mate. Our mate, the wolf reminded him. Derrick groaned at his stupidity, but only a rebellious snarl came out from his no-longer human mouth. He violently shook off the pieces of cloth that was still sticking to his fur in annoyance, using his paws to speed up the process.
The wolf inside him was right. It was always right, but Derrick couldn’t just let it blindly have its way. Jumping recklessly into a fight without assessing the situation wasn’t logical. Even if Derrick was a sad excuse for a werewolf, he was still capable of retaining some of his human side. His wolf reared its head angrily in defiance, its thoughts nothing but primal, but Derrick reared it back to think.
The other wolf didn’t smell weak, but he didn’t smell like the local pack either. He had to be careful. It was considered a free hunt, a free kill even, but after making that brainless howl that effectively and foolishly announced his presence, one of the local watch wolves would come running to sniff out the disturbance in their territory.
Damn it all, it wasn’t just any free kill. It was his kill. Derrick’s wolf decided that the local pack’s interference was an insignificant matter he could deal with when the time came. Remembering the nervous blue eyes of the barista, his human half agreed with the wolf. He had a sneaking suspicion that the barista was running away from something. Was he running from this intruder then?
If that was the case, then the little wolf could’ve gone to Derrick for protection. Foolish little wolf. Never mind that, Derrick would remind him later. For now, all that mattered was getting back what was his and tearing that other encroaching wolf to pieces.
****
Jack didn’t remember tasting gravel and soil. All he remembered was trying to dart away from the massive jaws that lunged thoughtlessly at him. It was a half-successful attempt at best. Jaws closed ruthlessly on his left calf, forcing a scream out of him. Pain immediately laced from his bloody leg and up his body.
An impressive jet-black wolf the size of a small pony glared savage amber eyes at Jack. The size of a wolf was proportionate to the size of their human halves, and Nicky was one hell of a monster even for a werewolf. He was called The Black Scourge for a reason, and very few could challenge him and win. Heck, the black and monstrous Alpha delighted in tearing his opponents to pieces.
Nicky doesn’t want to kill me yet. He wants to teach me a lesson. The thought brought Jack a sliver of relief, relief and a familiar sickening feeling of dread. Jack uncertainly tried to drag his feet back despite the teeth that were hooked into his torn jeans and skin. Certain that Jack was going nowhere, the Alpha obliged and let go of his leg.
Nicky snarled at him in warning though, amber eyes feral and unforgiving.
Blood and saliva dribbled down the snout of the dominant wolf Jack had been avoiding for months. Each snap and show of those terrible teeth sent Jack reeling backwards, his terror only delighting the other wolf.
How much of his former lover was still in there?
Jack was no longer certain it was still Nicky in there, but both the wolf and man shared a propensity for cruelty. The best thing Jack could do was roll on his belly and bare his neck in submission. Jack could only hope the Alpha wouldn’t immediately tear his throat out of blind rage.
Jack began to reach out for his wolf to change. He longer wanted to be in his fragile and vulnerable human skin. Even if he stood no chance against Nicky in his man or wolf shape, he would feel safer in his fur.
But the more Jack pulled at his beast, the more it refused to merge with him. The wolf inside him shook its shaggy head, refusing to change. It refused to submit to the abusive dominant wolf. It had enough of constantly living in fear and in being pushed around. A wolf wasn’t a dog, and even a Gamma wolf shouldn’t be treated like a domesticated animal.
Nicky’s amber eyes narrowed, and his teeth snapped impatiently at Jack’s face. It was a warning, a warning that he would do more than just nip at Jack the next time.
“Please, Nicky. Something is wrong with my wolf … I can’t…” Jack winced. More saliva splattered on his face, and Nicky’s teeth grazed at his cheeks.
The Alpha’s enormous jaws opened again. Its hot breath and the stink of carnage filled Jack’s nostrils. He’s recently fed, but he’ll make a
good meal out of me yet. He shut his eyes. Being eaten alive was not his ideal way of dying, and Jack had seen more sides to Nicky than he’d like. The black bastard would have a hell of a time making sure he’d suffer terribly.
He’d seen the Alpha assert his brutal authority over the new and disobedient wolves in his pack and the occasional unfortunate human who’d crossed his path. Jack certainly didn’t fancy ending up like minced meat.
“Please…” The plea died in his throat.
Jack was ready to accept his death. He could only hope that he’d meant something to his former lover even just a little bit, enough at least that Nicky would give him a quick death.
“You know that’s a wistful and unlikely thought, Jack. You should’ve known better than that, Jack.” He could almost hear Nicky saying it in his human form. He could imagine the large man’s usually handsome face twisted into a sneer. Could imagine the sound of his large fists smacking into flesh. Not just once, but a few times for good measure. Most of Nicky’s pack would just look at him with averted and pitying glances in the morning. Jack never expected any help from them either way.
He was ready for the sound of Nicky’s teeth crunching into his soft human flesh, but there was nothing. The warm and putrid stink of carnage disappeared. A surprised yelp followed. Jack’s eyes flew open just in time to catch Nicky being flung away as if something equally large and powerful had barreled straight into him.
Jack blinked. An unfamiliar snarl came from his unexpected savior—another wolf. Rust-colored and terrifying in size, the intruder’s ears were pulled back, its teeth bared and its amber eyes narrowed. It was all muscle and grace when it moved, not giving Nicky a chance to recover.
The Alpha clawed at the other wolf, snapping its jaws and raking its claws furiously at a beast that could finally give him a real challenge. Most werewolf fights were nothing but dirty dog fights to Jack, but this fight was a dance of two deadly and beautiful beasts.
Sugar-free Beta Page 2