Jacks, Marcy - Handcuffed to the Werewolf [DeWitt's Pack 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (5 page)

Handcuffed to the Werewolf
                    
33

Chapter Six

James DeWitt, alpha werewolf and leader of his pack, had to signal to Adam, one of the lower alphas, to stop Isaac before he could pull out one of his guns and shoot Deacon in the face.

Isaac was a human, and probably the only former hunter in existence to be made welcome within a werewolf pack.

That was only because he was mated to an omega within James’s ranks, the omega Deacon was lusting after and wanted James to hand over in exchange for Mick, James’s best friend’s, life.

Tristan.

It really was too early in the morning to be dealing with this.

“I’m going to make sure you die this time, you fucking piece of dog shit!” Isaac snarled. The guy had one of the worst mouths James had ever heard. Kind of appropriate at the moment.

“If you kill him, then we’ll never find Mick.” Or the human  Deacon had taken just to be cruel.

James couldn’t take weeks with his war planning, because there was no way he was going to hand Tristan over this this asshole. Not like he’d done the last time.

A search-and-rescue party would have to be sent out, Christ, ten minutes ago if he hoped to find Mick any time soon.

He should never have let Mick go off hunting all alone. He should have gone with him, like he was supposed to.

“He’s too  far away, James. You will never sniff him out,” Deacon said, as though reading his thoughts. “And Mickey will never be able to escape my prison without my say-so, not with how I’ve set it up.”

“Let me kill him, James,” Isaac said, his hands twitching to pick

34
                          
Marcy Jacks

up the Glocks that were holstered at his hips. The twins, Eli and Eric,  had to come forward and stand close to him, should Isaac decide to

fight against Adam.

Their normally cheerful faces were all alpha at the moment, ready  to spring on Isaac, or Deacon, should James order it. Morgan was out  there in the woods, keeping watch from a distance, like he preferred  to do.

“Does it bother you that Tristan bears my bite?” Deacon said,  sneering the words at Isaac. “That I have already marked him as  mine? Do you  look at that wound on his neck every time you fuck  him? I am always with you, you know.”

Adam had to grab Isaac by the shoulders again before he could  launch himself at Deacon in an attempt at another brawl, and Eli and  Eric did have to step in and help. James pressed his lips together,  suppressing a glare at his newest friend, despite what an idiot he was  being.

Isaac had been shot just four weeks ago, and his human body was  still healing from that ordeal. Not to mention that he walked with a  small limp now and would never be able to take on a werewolf in a  hand-to-hand fight like that.

Deacon laughed at Isaac’s rage. He’d come alone, but the leverage  he carried was enough that he was more than protected, and James  knew it.

“I love what you’ve done with the place, James,” Deacon said,  looking over their shoulders at the piles of lumber they were using to  fix up the old cottages, and even build some new ones. “Strapped for  cash, the last I heard. Who’s funding your little project here?”

It was none of his business that Isaac was the one doing this for

them.

“Your terms aren’t going to change?” James asked. He felt Isaac’s

eyes burning into the side of his head, but he ignored it.

“I want what’s mine,” Deacon said, glaring.

James nodded. “Give us a couple of hours to think it over.”

Handcuffed to the Werewolf
                    
35

“You have one,” Deacon said, raising his finger, as though James  didn’t know what one meant. “One hour. If I don’t have my prize by  then, Mickey dies. If I so much as catch the faintest of scents of any  of your wolves following me, he dies. Then I’ll send my new hunter  friends over here to meet you just for shits and giggles.”

“Fine,” James said with a glare.

Deacon grinned and shifted, the process taking a good ten  seconds, then ran through the trees with a speed James wouldn’t have  thought he possessed, considering the time it took for him to get into  his wolf form.

“There’s no way in hell we’re handing Tristan over,” Isaac said,  immediately rounding on James.

That was the only annoying thing about having a human in your  pack. They didn’t have the same respect for his status that the rest of  the wolves did.

“Of course not. But we needed to buy some time.”

“Will he know if you send Adam to follow him?” Isaac asked.

James nodded and rubbed his hand over his scarred face. “Yes, the

wind  is at his back. He might change direction at any time, but for  now we have to wait until I send someone sniffing after him. Until  then, however, I can send someone to track Mick’s scent from where

he disappeared. It wasn’t that long ago that his scent would vanish  completely, and we might get an idea of where they took him. Which  direction at least,” he added.

Isaac nodded, apparently satisfied with that plan. “Okay, I’m going to wake Tristan up.”

James nodded. “Yeah, he’ll need to know what’s happening.”

“Not just that,” Isaac said over his shoulder. “Apparently, I have  one hour to teach him how to fire a gun with silver bullets in it.”

James shook his head. Fucking hunters.

* * * *

36
                          
Marcy Jacks

By the time dawn cracked, Mick had long since grown tired, and he’d only  been running for maybe two and a half to three hours.

Though Jason tried, it was difficult for him to hang on to Mick’s neck without letting the silver pair of handcuff’s touch Mick’s skin.  More than once he’d had to adjust his position on Mick’s back, andmore than once Mick had been burned by the silver.

It felt like getting a sudden horsefly bite. Sharp and quick, and hurt like a bitch.

It wouldn’t be anything Mick couldn’t handle if it wasn’t so draining on his energy. He’d lost his momentum about twenty minutes ago, and soon was only proceeding at the speed of a brisk walk.

“I said stop! Let me down, you’re tiring yourself out,” Jason  snapped into his ear for the second time, and Mick was in no mood to  argue. He stopped.

More like fell over onto his stomach. Jason all but leaped off of  him and was on his knees at Mick’s side in an instant. Mick could

sense the other man’s worry just from his body language and  breathing, and he was glad he had someone around who cared  whether or not he lived or died.

“What can I do to make it better? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to  get you with the silver.”

“It’s all right,” Mick said in a half slur. He was so tired he could  have passed out. “You did great. I expected to have to slow down a  lot sooner than this. Just wanted to go farther,” he said.

Jason looked around, because of the trees, any dawn light that  peeked through the eastern horizon was shaded, but everything still  looked yellow and glowed with life.

It made Jason look beautiful. His cock and balls twitched for what

seemed like the millionth time that night. The desperate need to mate  with his chosen, the instinct to take him, would not leave and wait for

a more appropriate time.

Maybe Mick would still live after all.

Handcuffed to the Werewolf
                    
37

“I don’t recognize where we are.”

Mick managed to lift his head and look around.

He didn’t have a clue either. They should be only a couple of  hours outside of his pack territory, though. Might as well be on Mars  for all it mattered. Mick couldn’t get them there.

He was going to pass out.

“Wait, I see something through the trees,” Jason said.

That was nice. Mick closed his eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s a camper!”

Mick’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

He tried to look up, to see what Jason was seeing, and he should  have been able to do that, but everything in the  distance was a blur.

“Right there, see it?” Jason waved his arms, hoping to get the  attention of whoever owned the camper that Mick couldn’t see.

“Don’t call out for them,” Mick said, his survival instincts kicking  in to the point where he could remember some of the basic things.

“If we’ve got people following us, we don’t want them hearing  that we’re here.”

Jason stopped waving and lowered his arms. “Could that camper belong to hunters?”

His sight was leaving him, but his nose should still work. Mick inhaled deeply and scented nothing. No breakfast cooking, no laundry drying in the wind, not even any recent campfires.

No people.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Jason grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to haul him up.

Tried to
 
being the key words. He could  barely lift Mick’s shoulder. “Get up. If there’s no one there, then they won’t mind if we use their place to rest for a little bit, and after the ride you gave me, you need it more than I do.”

Oh, Mick’s brain thought naughty, dirty thoughts when Jason said those words. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Jason grabbed him by the arm again and, using the strength of his

38
                          
Marcy Jacks

one hand, the one that didn’t have that evil silver bracelet around the

wrist, managed to get Mick halfway up.

Mick pooled all of his strength down to his legs and got the rest of  the way, still leaning heavily on Jason as they walked.

“What’s it look like?” Mick asked, seeing the brown blur coming  closer as they walked, but he wanted the details.

“It looks like a newer model. Maybe its shower will be running,  and there might be some spare clothes for you.”

A shower.
 
Please, baby Jesus in heaven, let there be a working  shower in there.

“I’ve heard of some people who did this. Bought campers and  basically parked them and used them as cottages.”

Mick’s first thought was that it was probably better that there were  no more humans around to get hurt should the hunters be on their  trail. But then the next thing he immediately experienced was the  extreme letdown he felt that there were no people there to help Jason.  People nowadays tended to stay connected, and had there been  people, Mick could have borrowed a cell phone, something that  would call for help.

Lacking that, he’d settle for finding a saw, if these people kept  tools and separating them as soon as possible.

Of course, the door was locked. But, seeing as this was only a  camper, despite Mick’s weakened state, he had no trouble taking hold  of the door latch and pulling until he forced the door open.

Jason helped him inside, and they shut the door behind them as  quietly as possible, as though they were afraid of disturbing the birds.

There was a padded bench immediately in front of the door, and  Mick gratefully let himself fall onto it, luxuriating in how good the  tough floral material, which was dusty  as all hell, felt on his face.

Like sleeping on a cloud for all he cared.

His body only half shut down after that. His instincts refused to let  him go completely under when they were being pursued by hunters  and Jason was all by himself, but he still managed to doze a little. His

Handcuffed to the Werewolf
                    
39

ears remained open to all the sounds Jason made, even in Mick’s

dreams.

He was pulled awake, literally, by a tugging on his arm.

“Mick, you have to get up now. I think the bedroom’s in the back, and the bathroom should be in there.”

Mick pulled himself up, feeling a strange material sliding off his body. He looked down and noted the white cotton table cloth.

“It was the only thing I could find in here to give you for a blanket.”

Mick so wanted to grab him and fall asleep with Jason  in his arms.  Instead he grabbed the table cloth, wrapped it around his hips, and dozily followed his mate to the back of the camper.

“Did you find anything else?”

“No,” Jason answered, sounding about as pleased about that as  Mick felt. “No cell phones, no  radio, no food. These people haven’t been here in a while. But I still want to check the bathroom and

bedroom. Maybe there’s a first aid kit in there somewhere and some

clothes that will fit us.”

That gave Mick some hope, because, though he could live without clothes, they would still be nice to have. Jason, on the other hand, would need some shoes before they could proceed any farther.

Mick saw the surprisingly nice bed and wanted to lie in it, but  Jason apologized to him and brought him into the tiny bathroom instead. It was made to be small, and with the two of them, it was