by Marcy Jacks
“How is he? Is he awake?” Already Derek was wading out of the
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water. His legs were sore as hell, but he needed to get out of here and see Mason. He needed to look at him with his own eyes to confirm he was all right and breathing. The fact that Mason wasn’t here with Derek right now could only mean that, despite the healing power of the water, he hadn’t woken up, so he wasn’t really sure why he’d bothered with asking.
“He’s still unconscious last time I checked, but we’ll be expecting him to wake up soon enough. You should know that the damage to his skin was pretty severe before we put him in the water. Most of his body was healed just fine, but there will be scarring.”
Derek stopped and looked at James’s face, his scarred face. Derek had seen the healing powers of the water when Old Maggie made an unconscious Mason drink from that water bottle, but despite how carefully they’d cleaned his wounds, his face had still healed up a little roughly, with a few indents here and there in the skin from where Mason had taken a particularly hard punch with one of those silver rings.
This time, however, his pack mates, anyone with any skills with a needle, really, would’ve needed to pick out the silver pellets before they could do too much harm to him then put him in the water, and Mason had already been feeling weak because of his last encounter with silver. Did that mean that his body wouldn’t have healed so well the second time around?
“Just take me to him. Please,” he asked.
James nodded and led the way.
They walked carefully at first, Derek limping along until he was able to walk out the stiffness and hurry up. He and James were practically running the rest of the way back when he was able to.
The area where the cottages were was strangely quiet. Alphas and omegas worked together to clean up the mess left behind by the hunters. There were no bodies that Derek could see, meaning they’d all been cleared away by now. There were still bloody patches in the dirt, and Derek did his best to not look at them, especially the larger
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ones that had dried into the brown dirt.
He didn’t know how many members of the pack had died, but judging by the quiet nature everyone worked in, the way they all kept their heads down as they hosed blood off their walls or racked up bloody grass, there had been some casualties on their side.
James opened the front door to his house, and Derek was glad they didn’t have to go through the back. He wondered if the other man knew or not yet that Derek was responsible for the broken glass and blood all over the place.
He was more concerned with just getting to Mason.
“Where―?”
“Upstairs, second door on the right,” James replied.
Derek bolted up, knowing James was slowly following him, but he didn’t mind. The closer he got to his lover, the better he could feel the other man, the more he knew that what had happened to him wouldn’t seriously affect him for the rest of his life.
He opened the door, and there he was. He was lying on the bed, the covers pulled up to his chest but under his hands. Derek had never seen anyone tucked into bed like that in real life before.
The blue covers weren’t exactly thick, though, and Derek could clearly see the easy way in which Mason’s chest rose and fell. No trouble breathing, that was good.
Derek entered the room quietly, practically tiptoeing toward the bed. He was hardly dripping wet at this point. He’d been put in the water wearing only the boxers he had on from earlier this morning, and they were slightly damp after his run in the woods, so he took a seat in the chair next to the bed and looked over the medications and
swabs that were on the nightstand.
All regular-looking stuff. Derek didn’t know much about medication or anything, but he could swear that there was nothing stronger on that nightstand than some basic over-the-counter Tylenol painkillers.
Maybe it was more of that werewolf healing in effect. That could
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be the reason why Mason didn’t need anything stronger than this. That and that magical pond that was on this land. Derek was going to have to ask about that when he had the time.
“You can stay here as long as you like.”
Derek whipped his head to the door. He hadn’t heard James come
in.
The leading alpha was looking at his brother in bed with sad eyes. “Maybe you being here will help him to wake up.”
Then James’s eyes went down to Derek’s hand on the bed.
Derek blushed when he noticed what James was looking at. He hadn’t even been aware of when he’d reached out and took hold of
one of Mason’s hands. But now he was holding onto it in both of his hands, cupping it gently, and comforting himself with the feel of Mason’s warm skin.
Derek cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
James nodded. “There are others in this house who are being tended to, so myself, Corey, or Old Maggie might be coming in here once in a while just to check on things. If you think you can handle it by yourself, just let us know.”
James was asking him because of the territorial way werewolves were with their mates. He was gently making sure that Derek didn’t have a problem with anyone else in here touching his lover, even if it was for medical reasons, without his say so.
Derek didn’t know nearly enough about medicine to be given complete control over anyone like that, and even if he was skilled, he would still feel better with someone else coming in and taking a look once in a while.
“I know everyone must be busy, but it would be great if Maggie or yourself or Corey could come in and take a look once in a while.”
James nodded, and the door shut with a quiet click behind him as he left.
The room was dark and quiet once he was gone. The window drapes were shut tightly, and hardly any light came in from the
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outside. Derek felt so helpless doing nothing but sitting there and waiting for Mason to open his blue eyes so that he could see them one more time.
Just to check and make sure everything was okay, Derek reached out and touched the back of Mason’s head, gently sliding his fingers over the shaved skin.
He was due to do it again soon. There was a soft fuzz already growing there but definitely not enough hair to have protected his skull from silver shotgun pellets.
He jerked his fingers back as he felt the horrible indents. He half expected to see blood on his fingertips when he pulled them away, but there was nothing there. His hands were dry.
His face was all right, only slight scarring from that prick’s silver rings. Derek didn’t know what the werewolves would do with all the silver, but he hoped it involved fire.
He’d never hated silver before in all his life.
He checked the back of Mason’s head one more time, finding more of those small craters in the back. He’d not only taken the shotgun blast for him, but he’d also taken pellets right to the head. The fact that he was alive was a miracle in and of itself.
Derek couldn’t help himself. The situation was so morbid that he had to laugh.
“I figured you had a hard head but didn’t think it extended to the literal definition of it.”
Then he started to cry. He sat there for a few minutes, his messed-up hand over his eyes, just wishing that the life of a werewolf didn’t require so much uncertainty and danger.
Mason was going to be fine, Derek was sure of that, and now that the hunters were all dead, Derek had a decision to make that he
wasn’t sure he could handle.
He loved Mason. He had ever since he was twenty years old. Since the minute he first laid eyes on the man, and apparently they were mated.
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Derek had a life that he’d struggled to build for himself in Brampton, though. He wasn’t wildly successful by any means, but he considered himself a success considering the w
ay his story started out. He’d bought that run-down pawn shop, and in a town of less than eight thousand people, he’d turned it around completely. He even had the respect of the townsfolk, despite the fact that he was openly gay in such a small area.
Now he was going to have to decide if he wanted to go back to that life, where everything was safer and no one came after him with a shotgun, or stay with the man he loved and practically vanish from the grid, starting over completely.
If only Mason would just open his eyes, then he wouldn’t be having these doubts.
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Chapter Twelve
Blasius could hardly believe his luck. His mate, his Rhyan, was here, alive, and in front of him.
And he’d thought fate had been cruelly laughing in his face for centuries, but no. Not only a new life in a new body, but also his lover returned to him in the form of this human.
Human no longer, he supposed. With his injuries, Blasius had no choice but to take the man away from the battle raging outside―hunters in this time were so much more pathetic than in his. At least the hunters in his day had the stones to fight up close, using their muscles and brawn instead of these strange new weapons of
today.
Guns, he’d heard the term now and again but was still becoming used to the word on his tongue. One of those cowardly hunters had escaped thanks to such a weapon, which only infuriated Blasius more, knowing that the man who escaped might just be responsible for his mate’s current condition.
Regardless, Rhyan had been injured with one such weapon, and was clearly dying of it. Blasius would not allow the man to die on him, not again. So he’d taken him away, locked himself inside of one of the cabins, and then proceeded to dig the bullet out of the gut of his lover.
He’d tried to comfort him, but Rhyan had screamed something terrible as Blasius’s fingers dug into the wound, and Blasius prayed that Rhyan survived the operation.
Even with Blasius digging his claws into the man, infecting him with his werewolf venom, there was still no guaranteeing he would
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live.
He did live, and now he was resting, in bed, his outer clothing folded on the chair at his side. He was pale but sleeping peacefully.
The odd thing was how Rhyan did not seem to recognize him. That would change once the man woke up. He would tell him who they were to each other, and he and Rhyan would finally be together after all these centuries apart.
* * * *
Mason’s eyes hurt when he opened them. The room was so fucking bright he could barely see, and he had to turn his eyes away from the offending light just to be able to think.
He put his hand to his eyes and groaned.
“Mason,” Derek said.
His name on the other man’s lips sounded like a relieved sigh, and then Derek’s shadow was over him as his face was gripped between Derek’s gentle hands and he was kissed, every last inch of his face. Mason pressed his lips back wherever he could, but Derek was too
quick for him.
His mate was alive. He’d survived the gunshot that Mason had taken for him. Thank God. His eyes burned, and not because of the light in the room, though he pretended that was what it was.
“Sorry,” Derek said when Mason told him what the problem was, and then the light from the bedside lamp clicked off, and they were left in the dark. “I put one of Maggie’s scarves over it. I didn’t think it would be too bright.”
Mason looked down at his side where Derek had put the book he’d been reading by faded lamplight. “How long have I been out?”
When he was able to adjust his eyes in the dark, he saw the way Derek rubbed his cheeks with the sleeve of the shirt he wore. “Couple of days. You had me so fucking worried. People were starting to say you were in a coma or something.”
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Mason didn’t know what being in a coma felt like, so he couldn’t confirm or deny that that was what his long sleep had been.
“I feel like shit. The back of my head hurts,” he complained.
Derek snorted a laugh through his tears. “It would, you idiot. You were shot in the back of the head.”
Mason reached back to feel the damage. He needed to shave his head again. His hair was really starting to grow out, but he could still feel all the little indents and imperfections left behind from the shotgun.
“Good thing my healing kicked in,” he said. Then he noticed the watch on his wrist.
Derek glared at him. “That had nothing to do with it. It was the pond. Maggie made you drink that water for days, and they even dunked you into it before bringing you back into this room. What’s wrong? Oh, the watch.”
Mason’s face heated, and he knew he was blushing. “You found it, huh?”
Derek smiled at him. “In your jacket pocket when I was putting
away your things. I can’t believe you kept it all this time.”
“I almost didn’t.” Then Mason frowned, thinking about what Derek had said about the water and hardly knowing what the hell Derek was talking about. He asked him about it.
“Right, I forgot,” Derek said. “James told me you didn’t know. Said they only just found out about it recently.”
“Found out about what?” Mason demanded.
“Apparently that pond that you took me to, it has some sort of healing power. You drink the water and bathe in it, and for the most part, you’re good as new.”
Mason figured the scars on the back of his head, and likely his back and legs as well, were the mostly part.
It was the look on Derek’s face that had him concerned. “What’s
wrong?”
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Derek hesitated and then lifted his hands. It took a second before
Mason noticed what his mate was showing him, and sharp pain lanced
into his heart.
He reached out and took hold of one of Derek’s hands and kissed
his knuckles. Derek inhaled a shaky breath when he did that, and Mason had tears in his eyes for real when he looked up at him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop that from happening to you.”
Derek fell out of his chair and put his arms around Mason’s shoulders. Mason squeezed him back just as tightly, and they both spent minutes just holding each other and saying that nothing was their fault, that everything had been out of their hands.
“I can’t leave,” Derek said.
“What?” Mason looked at him. Derek’s voice had been so small
he almost hadn’t heard the other man.
Derek’s look was a guilty one. “I–I was mad when I thought that I would have to stay here because of the hunters, and that wasn’t your fault, but even a few days ago, when you were still lying right there, I was still thinking of going back to my old life. It just seemed too dangerous here, and we haven’t been together for that long.”
Derek shook his head. “I can’t leave. I’m sorry if what I’ve said was just the wrong thing to say, but that was what I’ve been thinking, but with you awake and now that you’re going to be fine, I can’t go. I need to be here with you.”
Derek stopped speaking, and after a minute, Mason realized that the other man was waiting for him to make his decision, as though Mason could ever condemn Derek for thinking such things.
If he were a better mate and more of an alpha, he would encourage the other man to go back, if all the hunters were dealt with. From the way Derek was speaking, he was assuming that they were.
“Should I go get your brother? Tell him you’re awake?” Derek asked when Mason didn’t say anything.
Mason reached his hand out and gently gripped Derek’s arm―gentle was all he could manage, considering his sapped
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strength―and he pulled his mate into bed with him.
“It’s not for that,” he said when Derek protested. “I just want you to lie with me for a bit before we tell the others. I
need you beside me.”
Derek smiled at him, clearly relieved, and he happily got in bed with Mason, staying above the covers, the two of them wrapping their arms around each other.
Mason had just come back home a couple of days ago. Weak or
not, he couldn’t let Derek get away from him either.
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marcy Jacks lives and works in Ontario, Canada, where she is fervently pursuing the writer’s life while writing about lots of gorgeous guys. She loves hearing from readers, and you can reach her at [email protected].
For all titles by Marcy Jacks, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/marcy-jacks
Siren Publishing, Inc.
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