A Family with His Werewolf Mate (10 page)

Dean fused their mouths together, practically devouring Will
as his fingers worked on Will's clothes. The sharp tips of Dean's claws nudged
Will's skin ever so slightly when his mate lost what little patience he had and
ripped Will's shirt off altogether. Despite this, and despite the urgency
written in Dean's frantic motions, the touch didn't hurt. Instead, it made
Will's nerve endings flare to life with a pleasure he'd thought he would never
feel again.

They'd had so little time together before circumstances
separated them, but Will still remembered the moments they'd spent touching,
kissing, making love, had relived them over and over in his dreams. At one
point, he'd convinced himself he was embellishing his own memories, because
everything he'd experienced by Dean's side couldn't have felt so good. He'd
been wrong, so very wrong.

It wasn't better. It wasn't worse. It wasn't the same. It was
just... right. Will couldn't have described it any other way, because his mind
lacked the necessary thought processes to come up with something adequate. But
his heart, his heart knew—just like it had always known. Right.

By the time Dean finally removed his shirt, Will was burning.
He hated that he hadn't had the foresight to take his clothes off before they'd
started this. He couldn't bear it, couldn't endure having a barrier between
them for one more moment. So many obstacles were already in their path. Enough.
No more. Just... Please, no more.

Dean almost seemed to guess his thoughts, because he broke
their kiss long enough to fulfill Will's desires. Will gasped out his mate's
name in protest when Dean pulled away, but Dean shushed him. "It's okay,
baby. I'm here. Not going anywhere."

Will wanted to believe that. God, he wanted to believe it so
much, but somewhere at the back of his mind, he was still very much aware of
the high chance he had of losing Dean. He couldn't breathe if Dean didn't touch
him, if Dean left him. He couldn't think. He was young all over again, young
and head over heels in love with a mysterious man he'd met under a willow tree.
All his painstakingly built walls crumbled under the strain of too much sorrow.

This time, though, Dean kept his promise. He removed Will's
shoes and tossed them onto the carpeted floor. Will's slacks followed, and Will
helped as much as his trembling body allowed him. Thankfully, Dean didn't need
much help. He was a man on a mission, and he got Will naked in record time.

He lowered himself over Will once again, and Will gasped as
their nude bodies came into contact. Dean gripped both their cocks into his
large fist, and Will's vision went unfocused, together with his frantic
thoughts. He buried his fingernails into Dean's flesh so hard he might have
shed blood if not for Dean's werewolf nature. As Dean started to move his hand
up and down their dicks, Will held on, pressing as close as he could under the
circumstances, breathing against Dean's lips, whispering things he couldn't
really understand himself.

The pleasure soared so fast and so much that before he knew
it, he was coming. When the orgasm exploded over him, it took him completely by
surprise, and he cried out his mate's name as his dick jerked, still in Dean's
hold. Dean let out a groan of his own and found his peak too, his hot spunk
mingling with Will's over their groins, between their bodies.

Will lay there, pliant and lax after the strongest orgasm
he'd experienced in a long time. Dean, however, had something entirely
different in mind. Somehow, Will could see it in Dean's hot eyes, and he spread
his legs, gesturing for Dean to take what had been his for more than half a
century.

Dean growled, and to anyone else, it might have sounded like
a threat. To Will, it was a promise, one that once more, Dean fulfilled. Still
on top of Will, he lifted Will's legs to grant himself better access. One of
Will's thighs ended up on Dean's shoulder, while the other on the back of the
couch. Spread out for Dean's scrutiny, Will couldn't help but experience a buzz
of hot anticipation. Dean's gaze was like a caress over his skin, and despite
his previous orgasm, Will found himself hardening again.

Dean's fingers, still slick with their combined seed, zeroed
in on Will's hole. And God, that shouldn't have aroused Will as much as it did,
but it seemed ridiculously sexy. Dean slipped two thick digits inside him, and
Will moaned, because holy shit, his mate was stretching him using their own
spunk as lube. Dean and Will had been forced to be pretty creative with
lubricant in the past—back in the day, it hadn't been available in every drug
store or even at the damn Wal Mart—but that didn't change how much this
particular action aroused him in the present.

Despite Will's less than exciting sex life, his body yielded
easily to Dean's ministrations. Dean watched him carefully as he scissored his
fingers inside Will, and if he could have spoken, Will would have told his mate
to get on with it already. But he couldn't make his vocal cords work, so
instead, he hung on for the ride, and moaned, gasped and whined when Dean
relentlessly massaged his prostate.

At one point, he began to fear his mate would get him to come
again before they fucked. Thankfully, Dean prevented that by removing his
fingers from Will's body. Will's protesting grunt turned into a cry of pleasure
as Dean replaced those very same fingers with his thick cock.

Slowly, Dean slid inside him, and as his mate's hot length
pierced Will's channel, the world began to fade away. The burn of the entry
hurt, but instead of making their lovemaking less pleasurable, it fueled Will's
lust, crystallizing into an all-encompassing heat that took over every inch of
Will's body.

For a few moments, Dean stilled inside him, giving Will time
to adjust. It wasn't really necessary, but Will appreciated the consideration
nonetheless. He appreciated it so much he clenched his ass muscles around
Dean's cock, encouraging his mate to give him more.

Dean got the message, loud and clear. He pulled out of Will,
then thrust back in, hitting Will's prostate dead on. Will would have
screamed—and maybe he did—but Dean chose to silence him by pressing their
mouths together once more.

It went on and on for what seemed like forever. Dean kept
fucking him, moving in and out of him, his steady thrusts gradually becoming
stronger, faster, almost violent. At first, Will tried to move against him, to
meet Dean's motions with his own, but soon, his mate's pace grew too
overwhelming for Will to match. He ended up wrapping his arms around Dean's
neck and hanging on for dear life, using Dean for an anchor despite the fact
that his mate was the one to steadily sink him into a continuous haze of
impossible pleasure.

If he wanted to be perfectly honest, he'd never known what to
expect when it came to the claiming bite. Dean had explained what it entailed,
and over the years, Will had learned more details, finally seeing it with his
own eyes in the relationship between his son and Andreas. But when the moment
finally came for Dean to claim him, he still wasn't ready for it.

Will got a single warning, when Dean separated their mouths.
He'd been kissing Will continuously, only stopping to allow them both to
breathe, before delving in once more, as if he couldn't get enough of Will's
taste. Now, though, he didn't press their lips together again. Instead, he
scanned Will's face with his stormy gaze, as if seeking answers to a question he
hadn't asked.

Will couldn't provide a reply, but his body moved without him
even thinking about it. He titled his head, offering himself to his mate. It
was enough. Seconds later, piercing pleasure-pain rushed over him as Dean
buried his sharp fangs in Will's neck, and his dick into Will's ass in one
last, particularly hard thrust.

Will suddenly knew what it was like to be utterly and
completely Dean's. In his heart, he felt emotions that were an echo of his own
despite not belonging to him. Within his body, he experienced his climax
twofold—through himself, and Dean. In his mind, he heard Dean's voice, a
reverent whisper, beautiful in its simplicity.
"Will. My mate."

Three syllables, and they said everything Dean hadn't been
able to tell him for so long, revealed everything Dean had been forced to hide.
Three syllables, and Will relived every emotion more intensely than ever.

Even as he convulsed through the waves of his orgasm, he
remained aware of Dean's emotions, entwined with his own. Layers of pain, pleasure,
need, and most of all love settled over Will, and it was so all-consuming he
didn't even know where he ended and Dean began.

It was too much, far too much, more than fifty years of
feelings coming crashing down on both of them. When the climax began to melt
into an afterglow, Will realized he was crying. Maybe that would have taken him
aback, but he couldn't think anyone could blame him for letting go.

Dean's cock head swelled within him, keeping them bound for a
while longer, the physical connection an echo of what Will now felt deeply in
his heart. Will found refuge in that. By the time Dean's dick finally slid out
of him, Will's quiet sobs had subsided.

"It's all right," Dean whispered against his lips.
"I'll win."

"You don't know that. You can't know that."

"I do," Dean said, with a certainty that shocked
Will. "I'll win, because I refuse any other result. I lost you and Jessie
once. I won't lose you again, no matter what I have to do, and especially not
now. I love you."

In that moment, when Dean smiled at him, when he murmured
those sweet words, Will finally dared to believe his mate. Their relationship
might not have worked out the first time around, but surely fate wouldn't be so
cruel again. Right?

Chapter Seven

A few hours after Dean had been released from the cave, Boris
came for him again. Dean had spent the time talking with his mate, catching up
with everything they had done while never once moving away from one another.

They hadn't made love again, but simply touching and speaking
made Dean feel closer to Will. For the first time, Will had shared the truth
about his past with Dean, without censoring himself. The knowledge of Will's
painful experiences had hurt Dean in turn, but he was glad Will had left
nothing out. They needed this for their new beginning.

They spoke softly, cuddled together under a quilt so that
would-be spies would not be able to overhear or witness too much of their
intimacy—or at least, more than they already had. Still, when their time ran
out, Dean was ready for it. Both he and Will were clean and dressed when Boris
entered the room.

"I hear you've had your last meal, Simmons," the
other wolf said, shooting Will an unpleasant smirk. "Time to finish this,
don't you think?"

"Indeed I do," Dean replied calmly. "Please,
lead the way."

The challenge was to take place on Olkhon Island, where the
Gathering itself had been held. A helicopter was already waiting to take them
there, and Boris didn't keep Will from coming with them. Dean wondered if he
should be relieved or worried at what that meant.

The island itself was quite generous in size, and easily
accommodated the thousands of werewolves that had come here for the Gathering.
The humans in the area were among the most respectful Dean had met in his life,
but then, they were used to it by now. Most of them probably suspected at least
some sort of supernatural activity when it came to the Gatherings, but Lake
Baikal was one of the few regions where humans didn't naturally panic at the
idea of something paranormal. Ironic, given the type of prejudice werewolves
themselves displayed against humans.

The helicopter flew them over the glittering waters of the
lake, but Dean was not moved by its wild beauty. He took advantage of the
respite to drink in Will's beloved features. Boris didn't seem to be paying
attention to him, but Dean didn't want to risk any overt displays of affection,
so he contented himself with mouthing "I love you" again.

He still couldn't believe his mate had wanted Dean to claim
him, despite everything that had happened between them. It was a gift, one Dean
would definitely not waste. He clung to it, solidified it into pure resolve.

It wasn't that he overestimated his own abilities or
underestimated those of his opponent. Will had told him enough about Mathias
that Dean would never make that mistake. It wasn't even that he believed
himself to be stronger than Mathias, at least, not... from an objective point
of view. But strength wasn't always objective, and neither was skill. A battle
could be influenced by more factors than the individual features of a
combatant. In this case, Dean was relying on something he had, and Mathias
didn't—a mate.

The helicopter finally landed on the island. Dean didn't get
to say anything more to his mate, because as soon as the doors opened, they
were separated. Several werewolf guards appeared and dragged Will off. Dean
studiously didn't look behind, even when he heard Will make a sound of
distress. He had to be calm, to take everything in stride. If he hadn't
panicked fifty years ago, if he hadn't yielded so easily to his father, he and
Will might not have been torn apart.

No one bothered to tell him anything. Obviously, they assumed
this was a sort of execution, and that Dean wouldn't have a chance against the
Sidhe hybrid.

The guards led him to the amphitheater that had been built
for the purpose of easing the proceedings of the Gathering. In the past, it had
been somewhat difficult to accommodate the large number of Alphas while
allowing everyone to take part in the decisions, but this particular Gathering
had drawn such a crowd that the hosts had been forced to erect the temporary
building.

When Dean had seen it for the first time, he'd know this
Gathering would not end well for him. He'd hated it then, and he hated it now.
He didn't particularly care that he was shoved through one of the entrances,
but he didn't like it at all that his mate was ushered onto the grounds through
the other doorway. Will was talking to Mathias, gesticulating wildly, but
stopped when Dean's gaze set on him.

Despite the distance between them, Dean could still feel
Will's warmth when his lover looked toward him. Ignoring everyone who was
watching, he smiled.

In a way, he'd perhaps meant the expression as a reassurance
to Will, but then, Mathias stepped forward and met Dean in the center of the
amphitheater, and Dean let the twist of lips turn into a smirk. "Well, I
have to say, this is dramatic. You couldn't have planned it better
yourself."

Mathias rolled his eyes. "I have no patience for such
games. I've seen it all before. They bore me."

"And yet, you play them still. I wonder, what does that
say about you?"

"I don't know. What does it say about you that you
abandoned your mate and your unborn child?"

"That I made a serious mistake for which I will always
be sorry. Beyond that, nothing that is any concern of yours."

Or so Dean said, but he still remained aware that he owed
Mathias a huge debt. That debt made this challenge far trickier. Mathias was
Will's friend, and his rescuer, and while Dean's mate had not actually told
Dean not to harm the werewolf hybrid, Dean could still tell there were bonds of
affection between the two.

He didn't like it, but he didn't have to. He just needed to
accept it, and he did, just like he accepted that he'd have to work around it.

Boris chose this moment to interrupt their conversation.
"Ready, gentlemen?" he asked, clapping his hands.

Dean started to disrobe, as did Mathias. "The challenge
will take place in werewolf form," Boris said unnecessarily. "No
other shape will be allowed. Upon the request of the challenger, the fight will
end only once of the combatants is unable to continue, at which point the
winner will be entitled to claim his prize."

Even if he hadn't shifted, Dean snarled. He hated the fact
that Will had been reduced to a 'prize', like he was a piece of meat to be
fought over by predators. And okay, he also hated that anyone assumed to have
the right to claim Will—Will was already his.

Boris arched a brow at him, and although Dean didn't try to
hide his displeasure, he got his temper in check. He was quite pleased that the
terms of the challenge no longer involved a fight to the death, but it also
made him suspicious. What would happen if—no, when—he won? Somehow, he doubted
they'd let him go so easily.

Dean made a mental note to worry about that later and
finished undressing. Mathias had already set his own clothes aside. Will
summoned his wolf form and landed on four paws on the ground, now scanning his
opponent through his animal senses. Mathias's beast form was quite large—in
fact, they were probably even in size, and possibly in strength. The other
werewolf bared his fangs at him, but Dean stayed calm. Finally, Boris stepped
back to give them room. "Begin!"

Mathias and Dean instantly lunged at each other. Dean had no
time to waste, and no time to hesitate. The first swipe of Mathias's claws hit
Dean's snout, but Dean managed to get a good bite in, shredding the flesh of
his opponent's paw before he was forced to pull away.

It only became even more violent and brutal from that point
on. The instincts of the wolf came to the fore, and with them, Dean's
resentment that this man wanted what was his, and had lived through moments
Dean should have experienced. It was a rush of fur, claws, fangs, blood, snarls
and howls, and if any of the wounds Dean received hurt, he didn't feel it.

Dean had fought many times in his life, mostly before he'd
become an Alpha, when his father's less than spectacular decisions caused
violence to erupt. One time, he'd faced a small pride of lions. He'd lost, and
only narrowly survived, but he'd held his own despite being vastly outnumbered.

He fought that way now, with a wildness born out of sheer
desperation, a drive that surpassed even his own instincts of
self-preservation. And yet, at some level, he managed to hold onto his human
consciousness—and that helped him realize something very important. Mathias
wasn't using his magic.

Perhaps he'd deemed it unnecessary. Or maybe he'd thought to
grant this boon to Will, to prove that he could beat Dean on his own terms,
without needing any additional power. That was what Dean would have done in his
place. Nevertheless, the choice did affect Dean.

It cleared his mind enough for him to remember his previous
resolve, and it helped him focus on his human intelligence. He revised his
strategy and waited for Mathias to lunge at him again.

The moment Mathias was close enough, Dean faltered. The other
werewolf managed to bury his claws in the muscles of Dean's shoulder, and Dean
released an involuntary whine. He stumbled back, his mobility now somewhat
restricted by his injury.

He was distantly aware of the cheering of the crowd around
him, the other werewolves obviously quite eager to see Dean perish.
Fortunately, their wish wasn't meant to be fulfilled, at least, not right at
that moment. Dean's gamble paid off. The taste of incipient victory frenzied
Mathias, which probably wouldn't have happened had the hybrid allowed himself
to use his Sidhe powers. Just the same, Dean caught the moment when Mathias
leaped toward him again, but his previous caution, obviously earned from
countless challenges—perhaps as many as Dean had fought—was gone.

It was enough. It provided Dean with the opportunity he
needed. Despite his injury, he found strength in his mate bond with Will.
Ignoring the pain and the protest of his body, he threw himself forward as hard
as he could. His momentum was such that he could have sworn he heard something
crack inside him, but he wasn't the one to fall back. It was Mathias who rolled
onto the ground, dazed and shaken by Dean's unexpected counterattack.

Dean didn't have a lot of time. He was badly hurt, and this
gamble had earned him the opening he needed to finish this. Straddling Mathias,
he buried his fangs in Mathias's throat.

It would have been easy for him to just tear Mathias's throat
out, but for obvious reasons, he didn't want to do that. He just wanted to do
enough damage to force Mathias into forfeiting the challenge. Of course, if
he'd been wrong and Mathias used his magic to heal, Dean would be in a whole
lot of trouble. Mathias bucked and tried to shove him off, but Dean clawed at
his opponent, willing him to yield.

It wasn't pretty. Mathias's jerky motions had them rolling on
the ground in a wild dash for survival and supremacy. Dean was eventually
forced to let go, because in his panic, Mathias might actually have torn his
own throat out on Dean's fangs.

Thankfully, the moon seemed to be with Dean, because the
moment he stumbled away from Mathias, his opponent shifted back into his human
form. Spitting blood, he pressed his hand to his neck. Under Dean's eyes, the
wound closed, but it didn't come without a price. Mathias slumped onto the
ground, breathing hard, not unconscious, but very close to it. And Dean was
still standing, and still in wolf form. He'd won. He'd won. Moon be blessed, it
was over.

The earlier cheering had completely died down into a
deafening silence that was only broken by the sound of Will's ragged gasps.
Dean could hear them, his senses zeroing in on his mate. Now that his opponent
was defeated, he walked—well, limped—toward Will, wanting nothing more than to
tear the hands of the guards who'd been holding Will captive.

Before he could reach his mate, Boris stepped between the two
of them. He waved for one of his underlings—or, was that his oldest son?—to
approach, and the younger werewolf complied with the silent command. He knelt
next to Mathias and looked him over. "Well?" Boris prodded
impatiently. "How is he, Sasha?"

"He will live, but he isn't in any condition to continue
the challenge. Alpha Simmons has won."

Dean could practically hear Boris gritting his teeth at the
words, but the truth behind them could not be denied. "Indeed."

Taking his cue, Dean finally shifted into his human form. It
hurt like hell, but fortunately his accelerated healing had made sure he
wouldn't end up with splintered bones in his lungs or anything just as
unpleasant. Unfortunately, just like he'd earlier suspected, Boris didn't seem
inclined to let him go so easily.

Two dozen werewolves appeared from behind him, all armed with
rifles that Dean knew would hold silver bullets. "I won," Dean
snapped at Boris. "You can't hold me."

"You did defeat your Aos Si challenger, but that doesn't
mean we will allow you to go free. And since you've already claimed your
prize... We can proceed with our previous schedule."

Dean bared his teeth at Boris, but didn't move or try to
protest. His head was swimming, and not because of pain or blood loss. History
was repeating itself. Here he was, still unable to reach his mate despite the
promise he'd made to Will. Another authority figure stood between them, with a
very palpable threat against Will's life holding Dean in check. Because those
bullets might be silver, but they'd work on humans as well as they did on
werewolves.

He didn't know what would have happened had a voice not
sounded over the amphitheater, taking all of them by surprise.
"Stop!"

It was familiar, strikingly so, but that wasn't necessarily
what made it so shocking. The fact of the matter was, out of all the things
that could have possibly happened, Dean had not expected Argent Hull, his
pack's former beta, to emerge from the very same door Dean had walked through.