Jacks, Marcy - Handcuffed to the Werewolf [DeWitt's Pack 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (7 page)

Jason threw his head back and moaned, gripping the headboard above him with the silver-shackled hand and reaching down with his

free one to stroke his cock.

Right, after all the teasing, this was not going to be some drawn-out thing. Mick moved his hips back and forth, creating more of that push and pull that punched their flesh together, until Jason opened his mouth and released a half-held-back cry of release.

Mick didn’t stop, knowing that he was drawing out Jason’s release, and he was so close to his own, so close to bonding them

together properly, forever.

Then he was there, and he had to bite down on the pillow beside  his lover just to keep from roaring out his release too loudly.

He still pumped his hips in jerky movements, until he’d finally  finished and was able to comfortably collapse on top of Jason.

His mate. Jason was his, and he would be Jason’s forever.

Now that he’d gotten the proper release he’d been so aching for, his body was ready to fall back into recovery mode. He’d damn near passed out when he heard Jason’s sleepy proclamation.

“We are doing that again.”

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Chapter Seven

Maybe it was just because of the night he’d had or the silver he’d been unintentionally poisoned with, but Mick didn’t wake up again until the sun was in the middle of the sky. That meant he’d slept for

nearly six hours.

Six hours, and still no one had found them here. Maybe if the  hunters were looking, they were avoiding the camper, thinking that a  bunch of humans were nearby.

Whatever the reason, Mick was happy to snuggle closer to his  snoozing lover, gently wake him so that they could have another slow,  lazy go, which Jason was still more than willing to cooperate with.

By now Mick had come to realize that Jason was not going to  simply go back to his normal life, whatever that had been. Jason  would follow him, even after the chains came off. And Mick never

felt happier.

That happiness made him soft, and he was still lying with Jason in  his arms, spooned up behind him, when he should have been making  plans to get back to his pack.

“I should meet your family,” Mick said after a time. “I wouldn’t  want them knowing what I am, but they’ll at least need to meet me to  know who their son is with.”

Even before he finished that sentence, he could feel the way Jason tensed up in his arms.

Clearly, that wasn’t a good idea. “What’s wrong?” Mick asked.

“I don’t have a family,” Jason answered quietly.

Mick puzzled over that. “Everyone has family. What about your friends?”

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“Don’t have any of those either,” Jason muttered.

That was  right. Deacon was being a prick about announcing how  Jason lived alone, but Mick had thought that there had to be someone  somewhere that Jason knew.

The topic was clearly upsetting him, but Mick couldn’t leave it

alone.

“What happened to them?”

Jason hesitated. “You haven’t known me long enough for me to  be dumping baggage onto you.”

“It’s not baggage. You’re mine and I’m yours. I want to be there  for you whenever you need me,” Mick said. “But that doesn’t mean  I’ll be upset if you need to keep a few things to yourself. Everyone’s  allowed to have their secrets.”

Jason half turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Really?”

“Of course. I’m a werewolf. We wouldn’t be able to survive if we

didn’t keep secrets from people,” he said. “If it makes you feel any  better, I don’t have any family either. I came into my pack pretty  young, met James when we were still kids, before he was the alpha,  and he brought me to his pack, and that’s where I’ve stayed. They’re  the closest thing I have to a family.”

“Do you love them?” Jason asked.

Mick was becoming worried over how small Jason’s voice was  becoming. “Yes.”

“They won’t be mad at you for bringing me back?”

“What? No. Why would they?”

Jason sighed. “Because I’m a guy.” The way he said it made it out  as though Mick should have known better.

Then he understood. “Jason, did your family disown you?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Little hard to be a gay Catholic in a small  town, you know? Everyone knows everyone else’s secrets.”

“Baby, I’m sorry that happened to you. But James took a male  mate. Corey. Everyone likes them just fine. Tristan even has a male  mate, and that guy is a former hunter, and they’re still welcome.”

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Jason released a long breath then turned around in Mick’s arms, kissing him. “Okay.”

Mick smiled at him, his body getting ready to do some more claiming, when his nose caught a foreign scent.

Jason saw the look on his face, but Mick lifted his finger to his mouth, signalling to Jason for quiet.

He nodded.

The grabbed the chain between them for minimal noise and shifted their way to the window. The curtains were heavy, and the windows were shut. No one from either side would be able to see

through them.

Mick lifted back the heavy material just a fraction to peek outside.

Just as slowly, to keep the curtain from moving too  much, he put  it back into place when his eyes confirmed what his nose had picked

up.

The hunters were outside.

Which made Mick the biggest fucking idiot in the universe. They should have left when they had the chance. If Mick hadn’t slept so long…

He’d kick his ass over that one later. They needed to get out of here, and to do that, they both needed to at least put on some clothes.

Lifting three fingers and jerking his thumb toward the window,  Mick let Jason in on how many were outside searching around the camper. Christ, one of them could notice the broken door latch any second now.

The first order of business was slinking back to the tiny drawers that were under the bed. They couldn’t put on any of the shirts or jackets, Mick didn’t think any of them would fit him anyway, but  Jason was able to fit into a pair of jeans he’d found while Mick slipped into some joggers. Thankfully, the old runners Jason found also matched his feet.

Good. He would need to run in a second.

There was only one way out that they could both use quickly, and

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that was the door Mick had broken. There was no choice for it. They

would have to use it.

Mick took Jason by the hand and pulled him to the front of the camper. Before they could even open the door, Mick jerked Jason to a stop.

One of the men was outside, walking around, his heavy boots crunching in the pine needles and old leaves outside. Then he stopped in front of the door. He was looking at it.

Mick grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. He used enough force that when it came into contact with the hunter’s face he went down hard.

Of course, the noise would be heard. “Hey, Steve? You all right?”

one of the other hunters called.

Mick had no time to wait around. He jumped out of the trailer just as the other hunters came around from the other side of the camper.  He grabbed the gun hanging loosely in Steve’s hand, pointed, and shot.

He was a werewolf, not a sniper, and he was lucky to have hit them at all, let alone have actually fired the thing. The men dropped, but it took about a millisecond for Mick to realize that they’d only done so to get out of the way of the coming bullets, not because he’d killed them.

Then they were pointing the black barrels of their own weapons at

him.

“Run!” He and Jason bolted away from the camper  just as the  rainstorm of bullets came hurtling after them. Shouts of vengeance  called after them as he and Jason ran through the trees, using them for

cover.

He hadn’t been hit, but Jason!

Mick chanced a look behind him to make sure that his mate

wasn’t struggling.

He wasn’t. His face was pale, but that was to be expected, and

there was no blood spurting out of him from anywhere. He hadn’t

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been hit either.

The hunters had started to chase after them, however, shouts and

bullets following them through the shrubs.

He knew the slope was coming before he reached it but hadn’t  thought to stop at a proper distance for Jason to not get pulled down  it.

He went down, and their chain kept them together, rolling and becoming tangled.

“Fuck!” Jason hissed when they finally stopped.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go,” Mick said.

“Wait! The gun!” Jason pulled against Mick as he tried to grab on to him and resume their race for their lives.

“Leave it!”

But he wouldn’t. Jason reached out and snatched the weapon just as Mick managed to get them back to their feet, and they were running once more.

“We’re going to skin you alive!” the men called with hyena-like laughs from behind.

“Stop here! Stop here!” Jason said, pulling them toward a leafy shrub.

Mick had no idea what he was on about, but against his better judgement, he did it anyway, diving inside the plant and hiding amongst the shrubs.

Mick felt pretty stupid trying to keep his body mass hidden within the little tree. “What are we doing?”

Jason, however, was playing around with the gun. He pulled the clip out, checked it, and then pushed it back inside the magazine.  “Two left,” he said.

“You know how to use that?”

Jason managed to grin at him. “Everyone and their mother packs a gun in my old town,” he said then pointed the weapon through the leaves.

“Christ,” Jason muttered, blowing out a breath.

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He got a head shot on the first hunter to come within shooting distance. The man’s neck flew back as though he’d been punched, and then he went down.

The next hunter came through, looked down at his friend, and then pulled out a mean-looking shotgun and just started firing it off, shrieking his rage.

Jason got him, too, smack in the middle of his forehead.

When he dropped the gun, his hands were trembling.

Mick took a hold of them and tried  to rub some warmth into them.

“You had to do it,” he said.

“Not the same as shooting an air rifle at a carnival,” he said.

With two hunters dead and one knocked out by the camper, that  left only one remaining. He came through the trees, looked down at  the  men there, and then bolted in the other direction before anyone  else could blow his head off.

Smart move. If only the dumb bastard knew they were out of

bullets.

They waited another sixty seconds to be safe, and then Mick took  Jason by the hand and pulled  them out of their hiding spot. “Come on, we need to go.”

“Right.”

“Do you need me to carry you again?”

“If it will get us to where we need to go any faster, sure.  Otherwise I think it would do me some good to walk for a bit.”

Right. It wasn’t every day a normal human was required to kill someone to survive.

“We walk for twenty minutes, and then I’ll carry you.”

“What about—?” Jason lifted the chain between them. The

always-present reminder that the silver on Jason’s end was poisonous  to Mick in larger doses .

“I can handle it for the rest of the way. This place smells familiar.  I think I’m almost home.”

“Thank God,” Jason said. “I could use a drink.”

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Water, he meant, not any alcohol, considering the last time they’d had water was in their shower more than six hours ago.

Just to make sure he could relax, though, Mick would hook him up with something strong from James’s liquor cabinet anyway.

* * * *

Deacon picked up the hunter, the only remaining one to come back from the search party alive, by the neck and legs, heaved him over his head, and tossed him into the cement pit where Mick and that fucking human were supposed to still be.

The scream the hunter made on his descent was cut off with a loud

crack upon his landing, and the heavy scent of thick blood wafted up

from the hole.

“How hard is it to catch two chained prisoners!” Deacon shrieked  down at him, as though the man were still alive. “They’re chained  together for fuck’s sake! You’re a goddamn hunter!”