Jacks, Marcy - Handcuffed to the Werewolf [DeWitt's Pack 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (12 page)

Jason was going to have a hard time getting over it a second time  around, that was for sure.

His ears twitched at the sound of booted feet, leather by the smell, crunching in the pine needles several yards behind him.

The scent of the person coming came next, and Jason sank a little further into himself.

He’d been hoping for this and dreading it at the same time. Mick was finally going to have his little talk with him, to explain why this wasn’t going to work out and why it was better for Jason to go.

He still didn’t look behind him, even when Mick was only two feet away. “A little birdie told me you’re not eating.”

That must mean Old Maggie. She was the nice lady who had been bringing Jason his meals. They were good, but he just wasn’t hungry and couldn’t force himself to eat everything on his plate, or even half of what was there. She had been nice about it, but clearly she was mentioning it to others.

“I’ve been eating,” he said with a sigh.

“Not enough,” Mick replied.

Annoyance in his voice. Jason wanted to pacify him so that this conversation would end. “I promise I’ll start eating more,” he said.

“Good.”

Though he still wasn’t looking behind him, he could hear the

swivel in Mick’s boot as he was about to turn and leave.

But he didn’t.

“I’m not punishing you, if that’s what you think.”

This time Jason did turn to look at him.

Mick was staring at him, and Jason hadn’t expected to see any pain in his eyes. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to be around me for a while.”

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“You kicked me out of your room.”

“I didn’t kick you out, I just didn’t think you’d want to be in there  after Deacon attacked you.” Mick lifted his hand, as though to touch  the bandage over Jason’s nose, but then he pulled back.

It had been broken, which had been the cause of his breathing  problems. Old Maggie had set it properly for him, and now his new  werewolf healing was taking care of the rest. He didn’t even have any  black eyes anymore, and his nose barely hurt at all now. He’d been  told that when the healing finished, no one would ever be able to tell  that it had been broken to begin with.

Jason didn’t need to say any more or to ask any more questions.  Clearly this had been a misunderstanding on both of their parts, and  Mick had been suffering as much as Jason had these last two days.

“I missed you,” Jason said, his heart pounding in desperation.  “Don’t send me away.”

Like gravity itself was pulling at them, they came together in a  hard, welcoming kiss, their arms winding around each other, keeping  them tightly together.

Mick’s body heat felt wonderful. The body itself was a beautiful  thing, and Jason was happy to be able to touch it again.

“You’re not angry? For being a werewolf?” Mick asked when  they pulled apart.

Another round of frantic kissing ensued before Jason was able to  answer him. “No, this is great. I love running with my new speed. I  can see colors I never saw before. I love it.”

Mick smiled at him, touching his face, and then kissing him again.  Neither of them was eager to let go of the other, but eventually, it had to be done. “Take your clothes off. I’ll show you all the best trails to go on and all the private paths.”

Not the words of a man who didn’t want to be around him, and

Jason felt a euphoric relief surge through him.

He loved this man, and they were going to stay together. If Jason had his way, too, running wouldn’t be the only thing they did whilst

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out in the forest today either.

They had some catching up to do, and Jason had been told that sex

as a werewolf was the best kind of sex out there.

He figured that makeup werewolf sex would be even better.

THE END

MARCYJACKS.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marcy Jacks lives and writes in Ontario, Canada, where she is fervently pursuing the writer’s life while writing about lots of

gorgeous guys.

For all titles by Marcy Jacks, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/marcy-jacks

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com