Jacks, Marcy - The Hunter's Omega Mate [DeWitt's Pack 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (2 page)

such a pussy and just keep going. He was only five feet away.

He got back to his hands and knees and started the slow process  again, keeping his eyes firmly on target, ignoring the dizzying swirl of  sky and water at the corner of his eyes.

Just get the gun, get back to land, and your equilibrium will go  back to normal, he told himself.

Finally he was there, and  even though everything in his peripheral vision still looked like the Van Gogh painting
 
Starry Night
, he smiled wide as he reached his hand out and—

The crack and sudden shift of the branch he was clinging to threw his guts into his throat the split second before the sensation of falling, with nothing below to catch him, surrounded him, powerful as gravity, and he splashed into the water and disappeared into the depths.

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Chapter Two

Tristan was just about to deviate away from the water when the path leading into town came upon him, when a gurgled half scream sounded from up the river, travelling down at high speeds.

He spun, not exactly knowing what it was he’d expected, but definitely not what he saw.

There was a man splashing around in the water, and  he didn’t look like he was having fun. The current had him in its dark grasp, and he was tumbling around, searching for the way out with little success.

It kind of made Tristan think of a sock spinning in a washing machine.

This guy was going to drown if Tristan didn’t do anything, and as the flailing man was pushed along through the current, Tristan dropped his bag, kicked off his flip-flops, and ran for him.

“Hang on!” he screamed, not exactly knowing why, or if the man could even hear him.

The man’s dark head was barely making it above the water for sips of air before he finally went under and stayed there. Tristan could still follow him. He knew this river pretty well and was smart enough to know that just because the guy had disappeared didn’t mean his body had stopped travelling along with the current.

He ripped off his T-shirt and awkwardly jumped out of his shorts right before letting his wolf out. Tristan always could run faster on four legs, and the wind whipped through his fur in strong gusts as hepumped his legs.

He didn’t have to run for much longer. He made long leaps into the darker stretches of water until he was doing the doggy paddle in

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Marcy Jacks

the general direction he’d seen the man in. About the center of the

river.

He was wet, his sopping fur adding to the weight of his body as the waters splashed and fought against him, but his wolf form was not only faster, it was stronger, and Tristan managed to swim on, keeping his long snout out of the water with only minimal struggle.

He still couldn’t find  the guy. Where the hell was he? Had he drowned? Tristan didn’t want to leave the water, abandoning someone to die unless he was absolutely sure there was nothing more he could do, but his limbs were growing tired and heavy. He wouldn’t be able to swim back to the bank if he stayed in the water for much longer, and he would need to make the choice within seconds. Right now, actually.

Finally the head of the drowning victim was pushed up and out of the water long enough for Tristan to zero in on it, and he paddled like he never paddled before. Just as the body vanished within the water once more, Tristan took a deep breath and dove under. He was never really good at seeing underwater, and in a current like this, there was no point in keeping his eyes open anyway. Practically blind and deaf for all the good his eyes and ears were, Tristan used his body to determine where the guy had sunk to.

His paws slashed against something that didn’t feel like rock, and he opened his jaws, clamping down on what felt like cotton material.  It was thick and not quite baggy.

He’d grabbed at a pocket in the man’s pants.

Good enough.

Tristan swam and swam, clawing his way to the surface of the water with his prize in his mouth. His throat burned, lungs expanding as they fought to take in air that was not there, right before—

Yes! Finally! He broke through the skin of the river and inhaled deeply through his nose, only getting some water up there—God, he hated that feeling—before he paddled his way back to the bank.

If it had been hard to swim before, that was nothing now that he

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had the leg of what was probably a two-hundred-pound male in his

mouth.

He dragged the limp body back to shore. The second he felt the stones under his paws, Tristan made the shift into his human form. He

was naked and cold as hell now, but he grabbed the man by the leg  with his now-human hands, and dragged him up and out of the water,  laying him down on the wet beach.

Tristan was naked, but this guy most certainly was not. He didn’t  even look dressed for swimming, more like a stroll in the woods.  Everything he wore was cotton, which likely hadn’t helped his  inability to swim with those heavy wet garments pulling him under.

Tristan ripped the maroon T-shirt he wore down the middle,  revealing what was actually a very nicely sculpted chest.

He put his ear to that chest, right where the heart should be.

It was still beating, but Tristan heard no movement in the lungs.

At least now he knew what to do.

Tristan turned the guy over onto his stomach and pressed against his back, watching as the water trickled out of his mouth where it had been trapped in the lungs.

Still no shallow breaths coming out of him.

The next move became clear. Tristan turned the man onto his

back, lifted his head just enough to straighten the neck, pinched his  nose, and blew a strong breath of air into his mouth.

He hadn’t expected it to work on the first try and was shocked  when the guy coughed and sputtered water into Tristan’s mouth.

Gross.

He coughed and gagged, sucking back air in gasping half breaths that made Tristan worry for him.

He finally must have gotten all the water out of his lungs, because his breathing became calm and normal, and he opened his eyes to show Tristan the most beautiful color he had ever seen in a man’s

eyes.

They almost looked purple. In fact, they really were a light shade

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Marcy Jacks

of purple. Tristan didn’t think they could be contacts, if that was the  case, at least one of them would have come out during the stranger’s  swim.

They looked real all right. Even the man’s hair was an interesting shade of dark, reddish brown. Tristan squinted, and he was sure there were some black strands in there, too.

The trip in the water made them look kind of spikes, and Tristan had to fight the urge to not run his fingers through it, examine  it, and see if they were soft or coarse hairs.

The purple-eyed man blinked up at him, then looked down his body.

Oh, right. He was completely naked. And freezing. His body felt tight with the cold, and thank God for that. If it had been warm water, he would probably be sporting an erection right now.

Beautiful Stranger didn’t comment on Tristan’s nudity, though, as he lifted his head just enough to get a look at the water of the river, still rushing forward as though nothing had happened.

Mother Nature could be inconsiderate like that.

Purple Eyes let his head fall back against the rocks, and he rubbed his face with his hand. “Thank you,” he said.

Tristan couldn’t bring himself to move out of the man’s personal space. He couldn’t stop himself from just staring, wishing the guy would move his hand so he could get another look at those eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

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Chapter Three

“Camping?”

Isaac held his steel-toe hiking boots upside down, watching  miserably as the water trickled out and onto the damp rocks beneath  him. He was soaked, and that beautiful guy behind him had only just  found his shorts on the bank of the river. They were both walking up,  against the current, searching for the rest of his clothes.

Tristan had said he’d pulled them off to  keep them from weighing  him down as he swam after him. Isaac wasn’t much for swimming or  knowing the basic rules about it, aside from not eating right before  jumping in, so even though it had seemed a little strange, the guy had  saved his life, so he wasn’t about to question it.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, doing his best not to look at Tristan and recall  how tanned his thighs had been when he was naked. “I was out with  some friends, and, long story short, I found myself in a tree before it  snapped and I went under.”

Tristan’s neck clenched up. “Yeesh, that’s harsh. They must be  looking for you by now, though.”

If they were, it was probably just because they wanted to head out  and needed the guns back that Isaac had had on him before he went  in.

The rifle was lost forever, but the two Glocks in his holster were

still by the tree. The guys would pick those up and leave, most likely.

If their prank had killed one of their own, they would mourn him  for a solid two minutes before getting back to work.

Hunters weren’t exactly known for loyalty in their own teams. In  fact, this was the third team Isaac had ever been with, and they were

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Marcy Jacks

by far the most well balanced.

For a group of mercenaries who liked playing death games.

“I doubt it. They probably think I went for a walk,” he added at

Tristan’s odd look.

Isaac cleared his throat and pointed. “That your bag?”

Tristan sighed. “Yes, thank God.”

He jogged ahead and bent over to pick up the faded green duffel.

Isaac tried, and failed, to not look at his ass as he bent over.

Christ, this guy looked tight. Made Isaac wonder what he did to keep his body looking like that. Probably played sports. Most normal guys his age did.

A bright pair of flip-flops were not too far behind, and Tristan slipped his feet into them, too, before coming back.

“The river must’ve taken my T-shirt, but that’s okay,” he said, digging into his bag and pulling out a button-down plaid. “You want me to walk you back to your camp?” he asked, shrugging into the shirt but not bothering with buttoning it up.

He asked it like Isaac needed an escort or something.

“Uh, no, I’m okay. Hey, where’re you heading?” he asked, not wanting to risk that they were heading in the same direction. If Isaac went back to his team, and Tristan was heading that way, too, it could spell some pretty big trouble for the kid if he were to see all those men and the heat they were packing.

Isaac had so far never seen, nor had he ever taken part in, the killing of civilians, but he knew it was something that happened on occasion in order to protect the secrecy of the hunters.

He didn’t want that for Tristan.

“I’m heading for town,” he said, pointing in the direction they’d

just come from, shrugging the bag over his shoulder.

“Oh. Do you live there?” Maybe he could drop in and take Tristan

out  for a coffee or something after his mission was done with.

“No,” Tristan shook his head, a smile on his lips, as though he

knew what Isaac had been thinking. “I’m just passing through.

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Moving, actually.”

“Moving?” Isaac eyed the bag over Tristan’s shoulder. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?” Or even a car or moving van for that matter.  Why walk?

“Uh…” This was where Tristan looked away, biting his lips, as though trying to figure out what to say.

And just like that, Isaac felt like a complete asshole. Tristan was most likely a drifter or a runaway.

Isaac was hesitant to think of him as homeless, he certainly didn’t look like someone who spent time on the streets, but if there was some camping gear of his own, sleeping bags and whatnot in that duffel he carried, then it was a possibility he just knew how to live off

the land.

Thank God
, Tristan had said when he found it.

“Y’know what, never mind. Sorry it wasn’t my business.”

“It’s okay. I just don’t keep a lot of things, but I am looking for a  place in one of the towns over.”

Whether he was lying or not, Isaac couldn’t tell. “How ’bout I  walk you into town?” he offered.

Tristan’s dark-blond brows went up.

“Just to see you safely back. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Tristan smiled at him. “Not that the idea of being taken to  breakfast by a guy like you isn’t appealing or anything, but I have  money. You don’t have to do that.”