In the Sniper’s Crosshairs

by Charlie Richards

  To Castrose’s surprise, the smell created a heat in his blood that caused his gut to clench and his heart beat to spike.

  What the hell?

  Taking all that in in an instant, Castrose kept his breathing even and slow. He feigned sleep as he listened, searching for clues even as he racked his memories for how he could have ended up there. Unfortunately, the images that came to mind caused more confusion than answers.

  Castrose had been out mapping the terrain around park ranger, Declan McIntire’s home. He’d found a perch a couple of miles behind the property and high enough to use his rifle’s scope to view the place. The large lodge, huge back deck, and massive lawn, complete with a fire pit, had told Castrose that there was more going on than met the eye.

  After all, how could a park ranger and a country doctor afford such a thing?

  “I know you’re awake,” a soft tenor stated in English.

  The Irish lilt to his words made Castrose want to hum appreciatively.

  Except, what? How?

  Cracking his eyelids, Castrose blinked slowly. He turned his face away from the sunlight streaming through the massive picture window to his left. After his eyes had adjusted, he peered around the room.

  Castrose took in the deep forest beyond the window, telling him he was probably still in Colorado. The bedroom where he rested was quite large, with a big, comfortable, king-sized four-poster bed in dark wood tones. There were matching nightstands, a tall five-drawer dresser, as well as a lower-standing six-drawer one—those drawers were set in rows of two. The walls were a light green color, which were offset nicely by the deep green comforter pulled up to Castrose’s waist.

  Fabric matches the pine trees outside.

  After that inane thought spun through him, Castrose realized his head hurt. He finally focused on the man sitting in a chair beside the bed. With his black eyebrows furrowed over his deep green eyes, coupled with how he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, the handsome stranger appeared concerned.

  “What happened to me?” Castrose asked.

  The man cocked his head as he straightened. A confused expression creasing the corners of his lips. He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” The guy stared intently at him before speaking again, this time much more slowly. “English? Do you speak English?”

  What the hell? Why is he speaking to me like a toddler?

  Oh, right.

  Castrose realized he’d asked in his native Swedish tongue.

  Biting back an annoyed growl, Castrose tried again. “What happened to me?” Seeing the relief fill the man’s eyes, making the green almost sparkle, he added, “Why does my head hurt?” Because damn, it really did. Then, realizing there was something even more pertinent, Castrose added, “Who are you?”

  When the stranger smiled widely, probably pleased that they would be able to communicate, his whole face lit up. His pleasure filled his green eyes, making them twinkle. He displayed even white teeth in his deeply tanned face.

  “Damn. I was worried.” After that admission, he pressed his palm to his chest. “I’m Eion MacDougal. You’re in my home. I live near Stone Ridge, Colorado.” After a second of hesitation, Eion added, “That’s in the United States.”

  Castrose scowled. “I know where Colorado is.” His tone came out gruffer than he’d intended, but the way his body was reacting to Eion’s gorgeous voice was confusing him. Castrose didn’t like being confused.

  He decided to focus on what he’d learned and on what he still needed to know.

  So I’m still in the same area. Good.

  Lifting his right hand, Castrose reached toward the back of his head. “And my head?”

  To Castrose’s surprise, Eion snaked his hand out whippet-fast and grabbed his wrist in a loose but firm hold. “Don’t touch your head. You might tear out some stitches.” His handsome features twisted into a concerned expression. “Doc would have my hide if you did that.”

  “Stitches,” Castrose repeated slowly, although his focus slid to where Eion still touched him. The hairs on his arm lifted as goose bumps broke out over his skin. “What happened?”

  “Do you remember the wolves?”

  Castrose remembered them all right. He also remembered what happened after the wolf lunged for him. Surely that couldn’t have actually happened, though.

  Right?

  Somehow, Castrose must have given his thoughts away, for Eion’s smile turned warm and encouraging. He slid his hand from his wrist to his fingers, threading them together. Giving him a slight nod, Eion squeezed his hand.

  “You saw something out there that overloaded your brain a bit, Castrose,” Eion told him softly. “But it was true. It was all true.”

  “What’s true?” Castrose tossed the question out there on instinct... and disbelief. Then something else struck him. “How do you know my name?”

  Eion opened his mouth, then closed it again. His tanned cheeks took on a pinkish hue as he nibbled his bottom lip. His shoulders tensed as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

  “I told him who ye were,” another accented voice stated, this one deeper and full of authority.

  Castrose snapped his gaze to the doorway and spotted none other than the dark-brown visage of Declan McIntire. “You,” he snarled.

  “Aye, and ye obviously seem to know me.” Declan crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned a t-shirt-clad shoulder against the doorframe, appearing to get his broad frame comfortable. “I’d like to know how.” Then Declan smirked as he added, “And how ye located us, of course.”

  “What did you do to my brother?” Castrose demanded, yanking his hand free of Eion’s grip. “Where is Clayton?”

  While roaring the question, Castrose attempted to lunge to his feet. Too bad the move caused his head to swim and his vision to gray at the edges. Only Eion’s swift movement kept him from sprawling unceremoniously on the floor.

  Great intimidation tactic, moron.

  “Whoa, whoa, Cass,” Eion cried, wrapping his arms around his torso and urging him back to the bed. “You have a concussion. You shouldn’t—”

  Even knowing it was a losing battle, Castrose still struggled. He swung his elbow into the smaller man’s torso, aiming for his sternum. His aim was off, either due to his swimming head or how quickly Eion twisted.

  Eion grunted, but his grip on Castrose’s body didn’t loosen. It didn’t tighten, either. Instead, he insistently urged Castrose to return to his back as he whispered soothing words of encouragement into his ear.

  Castrose felt his body give out, and he flopped back onto the mattress. Only Eion swiftly moving his right hand to cradle his neck kept him from hitting his head on the pillow. As it was, Castrose couldn’t remember the last time his body felt so weak and uncoordinated.

  “Did you give me something?” Castrose stared up at Eion, ignoring the handsome man’s concerned expression. That could be the only explanation. “Meds?”

  “The doc gave you a local so it was more comfortable for you while stitching your head,” Eion told him, easing his grip on Castrose’s neck and gently placing his head on the pillow. “But you didn’t wake up. I was getting worried.”

  That made no sense.

  “Why would you worry about me?” Castrose grimaced. That wasn’t what he needed to know. “Concussion? How bad? When will I regain my coordination?”

  When can I escape these people?

  Although, for some reason, the idea of leaving Eion sent a sharp pang through his chest.

  Odd.

  Declan hummed, redrawing Castrose’s attention. “Wouldn’t ye want to see yer brother before ye leave?” He grinned broadly, his gray eyes twinkling. “We’re not holding him against his will, ye know.”

  What?

  “What?” Castrose voiced the thought. “That is a lie,” he declared just as quickly. “If he is not being held against his will, he would have conta
cted me. It has been almost a week.”

  To Castrose’s surprise, Declan chuckled... actually chuckled. “Well.” He shrugged his big shoulders as he pushed away from the wall. Grinning, he claimed, “Clayton has been distracted with all the information we’ve been sharing with him. I’m sure when he hears ye’re here, he’ll be happy to see ye.”

  “You will take me to him?”

  Declan glanced at Eion, then met his gaze again. While shaking his head once, he pointed at the man who still hovered near his bed. “Soon, but ye need to have a conversation with Eion first.” Then he arched one black brow. “Also, once we prove yer brother is alive and well, can I assume ye will not be using that rifle ye were pointing my home’s way?”

  Castrose glanced around quickly. “Where is my rifle?”

  “Tucked away, for now,” Eion told him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “For the safety of the pack.”

  “Pack?” Castrose narrowed his eyes as he watched Eion nod, his expression turning serious as he held Declan’s gaze. “What does that mean?”

  Eion turned his attention back to Castrose. With the way his lips appeared a bit pinched at the corners of his mouth, he appeared troubled. Still, he settled back in his chair and cleared his throat.

  “Are you all part of a cult?” Castrose asked slowly. As quickly as the idea came to him, he began fitting the pieces together. As odd as it seemed, the possibility was there. “Have you done something to brain-wash my brother?”

  “You have a lot of explaining to do, Eion,” Declan stated, backing away. “Call me when ye’re done, and I’ll have Dixon bring Clayton over.”

  “Thank you, Alpha,” Eion replied, dipping his head in what looked like a deferential move. Then he returned his focus to Castrose and stated, “No. Not a cult.”

  “I’m certain I’ll be seeing quite a bit more of ye, Castrose.” Declan turned and headed out of the bedroom. “Until then.”

  Eion sat in silence for a moment, his expression one of deep thought.

  Castrose scowled as he pressed his palms to the mattress and pushed to a sitting position. He wanted answers, and he hated that he wasn’t getting any. His head hurt a little, but he adjusted himself until he had his back to the headboard.

  His movement must have yanked Eion out of his reverie, for he snapped his focus to him and quickly shoved a pillow behind Castrose’s back, helping him.

  “So, um—” Eion paused and cleared his throat. Resting his hand on Castrose’s thigh, he squeezed lightly. “Right. Explanation.”

  Castrose felt the touch down to his toes. It also caused his groin to warm, and his mouth went dry. It was Castrose’s turn to swallow. Spotting a bottle of water on the nightstand to his left, he grabbed it and twisted the cap, breaking the seal.

  “Sorry,” Eion murmured. “I should have offered.” He tipped his chin, indicating the water.

  After gulping down half the bottle, Castrose resealed the container and set it aside. He held Eion’s gaze, deciding to be blunt. “What’s going on here if it’s not a cult? Why would my brother agree to stay?”

  “That answer is two-fold,” Eion began slowly, obviously choosing his words carefully. “First, this is not a cult. This is a wolf shifter pack... as in the race of paranormals that share their spirit with a wolf and can turn into them at will.”

  Eion flicked his gaze over Castrose’s face, but he remained silent. Hell, what was he supposed to say to such an outlandish statement? When he just stared, Eion cleared his throat and continued.

  “Next, your brother is here by choice for several reasons, or so I’ve heard.” Eion shrugged as his smile turned shy. “I’ve never actually met him. I’m a tracker, like most of the people in my family, but I’m not part of the inner circle. I only help out on rare occasions.” Waving his hand, Eion shook his head. “Anyway, from what Alpha Declan told me earlier, Clayton is here under the alpha’s protection because an Armenian terrorist cell located your brother’s whereabouts. Fortunately, we found him first, and he found our unique abilities fascinating. So—”

  Lifting his hand, Castrose decided to stop the man’s information dump. “Are you claiming you all are paranormal creatures that turn into wolves?” he asked, the words sounding ridiculous even as he spoke them. “Is there something wrong with your head?”

  The information about the Armenians... well, he could check that out easily enough once he’d secured his brother. First, however, he had to get away from the crazy people.

  Chapter Four

  Eion sighed deeply as he took in Castrose’s disbelieving expression. He should have known it wouldn’t be easy. Still, his sexy handsome mate had seen him shift.

  Shouldn’t that have counted for something?

  Wait. Maybe he doesn’t remember that part. He did hit his head, after all.

  “Yes, I am a paranormal being called a shifter. A wolf shifter, to be exact.” Then Eion added, “I know people don’t enjoy being reminded of why they fainted, but surely you remember the reason why it happened? You saw those two wolves, then one changed. That was me.”

  Scenting Castrose’s spike of anxiety, Eion rubbed his hand up and down his mate’s thigh, hoping to soothe him. He had noticed how his human’s arousal had spiked when he’d first touched him, after all. Even as he felt Castrose’s muscle tense, even through the fabric of the jeans he wore, Eion smelled the increase of arousal.

  To Eion’s pleasure, the delicious scent began to beat out the acrid smell of unease.

  Nice.

  “That’s the way,” Eion rumbled, smiling as he continued to massage the thick muscle beneath his palm. “Just relax.”

  Castrose’s pale-blond brows furrowed as he glanced from Eion’s face to where he touched him and back again. “Are you gay?”

  Upon seeing Castrose’s flush as his jaw sagged open, then his mouth snapped shut again, Eion chuckled softly. “I’ve been with males and females.” Winking, he swept his gaze over his mate’s large, strong-looking frame. “And you are a gorgeous specimen I hope to soon unwrap.”

  Once again, Castrose’s jaw sagged open.

  As much fun as leaning forward and capturing his shocked mate’s lips would have been, Eion knew it wasn’t the time... yet. Instead, he winked before refocusing on the explanations. “So, do you remember seeing me shift before passing out?”

  “Y-You’re claiming”—pausing, Castrose swallowed hard enough to cause his Adam’s apple to bob—”that one of the wolves was you?”

  Eion nodded. “Exactly. I shifted to stop my sister from injuring you.” He grimaced as he settled a hard look Castrose’s way. “You were pointing a sniper rifle at our alpha’s home, you recall.”

  “My finger wasn’t on the trigger. I was—” Growling, Castrose glared at him. “Seriously? That’s what I’m focusing on? I must be concussed.” Rubbing at his forehead, he cast a side-eyed gaze Eion’s way before grumbling, “You’re hitting on me, touching me, and my dick is hard, even though you just told me I really did see a wolf turn into a man, and it was you. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  Giving Castrose a cheeky smile, Eion waggled his eyebrows. “Well, part of being a paranormal is the fact that Fate grants us a mate. A soul mate.” Upon seeing his human’s eyes narrowing, he hurried to explain, “A shifter lives a hell of a long time, Cass. Upwards of five hundred years.” Eion leaned a little closer, silently willing Castrose to accept, to believe. “When we recognize our mate, which we do by scent, we pursue that person and bond with him or her. In the case of a human, it will extend their life to match mine.”

  Eion paused and waited, wondering how his mate would respond.

  For a long moment, Castrose just stared... as if waiting for more information. He began to reach for the back of his head again, as if intending to rub at his wound. Evidently catching himself, he heaved a sigh and returned his hand to his lap.

  “You still haven’t told me what that has to do with me.”

 
Upon hearing Castrose’s softly rumbled comment, Eion gaped. He had thought that would have been self-explanatory, but it seemed he would have to spell it out. Moving his hand from his mate’s thigh, he took Castrose’s left hand between both of his own, threading their fingers together. Eion leveled a serious look his human’s way as he stated, “Castrose, I have been waiting for you over a hundred years. You are my mate, and the attraction between us is part of that.” Hoping what he said next wouldn’t send the big human running, Eion explained, “Fate has a way of ramping up the attraction between mates, encouraging us to complete the bond as swiftly as possible.”

  Licking his lips, Castrose furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. His expression turned a little vacant. “Can any of this actually be real?” He whispered the words, almost as if he were trying to sort through all the information that Eion had shared.

  “It is real,” Eion confirmed quietly, massaging the back of Castrose’s hand with his thumb. “I know it’s a reality shift, but please believe me when I say it’s not a bad change.”

  Castrose blinked twice, then focused on Eion. He swept his gaze over his chest, then up to his face. Meeting his gaze, he cocked his head.

  “Why would you tell me any of this?” Castrose peered at him with an incredulous look. “Shouldn’t you be guarding this secret? I mean, don’t you all worry about persecution or something?”

  “We do, and normally, we guard the secret jealously.” Eion brought Castrose’s hand to his lips, and he pressed a kiss to his palm. To his pleasure, his human didn’t resist, and he hoped that meant he was drawing strength from his touch. “I am telling you for two reasons. One, your brother is here, and he knows. The bigger reason, however”—he hesitated a second, realizing he didn’t know a damn thing about his mate—still—”is because you are my mate and need to know these things in order to understand our way of life.”

  Castrose sighed deeply as he stared at where Eion massaged his hand. “This could be a dream or hallucination brought on by my concussion.”

  “It’s not,” Eion countered, shaking his head, frustration slipping through him. Huffing a sigh, he frowned at the man. “You’re going to be a stubborn one, aren’t you?”