Microsoft Word - Jacks-Marcy-Mated-to-the-Wild-Omega.doc (12 page)

Again, Tony felt the urge to throw him down and plunder him. He wanted to take his mouth, his ass, his everything.

Maybe he was only so sexually attracted to Storm because of what the other man was. The whole forbidden fruit thing. Tony had hunted  Storm’s species all his life, and now that he had one, one that was alive instead of just a skin on his wall, that was, he felt like he owned the world.

To have a werecat for a companion, whether the were in question liked it or not, was just too good for him to throw away by just killing the man outright, especially when Storm gave such good head.

He liked it. Storm didn’t want to admit it, but he liked it. Maybe that was another reason why Tony kept him alive.

He grabbed Storm by that perfectly straight and tight ponytail of his and yanked his face closer until they were kissing. Storm wasn’t worried that Tony would have him killed because he knew that Tony was whipped. Tony would never kill this man. Storm belonged to him, and he would make sure that they remained together.

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They both stood when they finished packing their things some five minutes later, though Tatum was yelling at them to get a move

on.

A hunter had to be able to move quickly or they would never catch their prey.

“Hurry up! We’re losing time here!”

The sun wasn’t exactly close to appearing yet, not with the way winter time worked, but the stars were fading, and they were falling behind.

Tatum and Chance took the one Ski-Doo while Tony and Storm rode on the other. Because weres were shit at riding things like this,  Tony made sure that he was in the driver’s seat while Storm held onto him from behind.

He couldn’t wait to find whatever it was that had come into their

camp. If it was nothing, good, they could come back here and  regroup, and maybe Tony would be able to take Storm again. If it  really was a werewolf wandering around in that kind of weather, then  he would skin the stupid bastard, and then take Storm because a  victory fuck was always the best.

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Chapter Ten

Even with the sky clear, the wind still, and no snow to hinder them, it was a complete pain in the ass traveling like this. The snow went up to Morgan’s chest, and he was pretty big for a wolf. He considered himself to be, at any rate. Still, he had to make the odd jump here and there from where the snow hindered him or was too hard for him to press through.

It would have been so much easier if it had been a dry snow, but no, it was sticky, which meant that every five steps he managed to take, the snow stuck together so much and so hard that he couldn’t take another step, and he would have to jump over.

Every once in a while he let out a yip. Nick and Terry dutifully yipped behind him, no sounds of tired whines in their replies. They were still there, and they were still doing just fine.

They also had another two and a half hours of traveling ahead of them, at best.

At least they were far enough away that those hunters wouldn’t catch up to them when they woke up to find the tracks.

* * * *

Tatum followed those tracks all the way back to that house they’d been at the day before. It was difficult to identify tracks that wind and snow had mostly erased, but the fact that they went right up the porch to the cabin, and all the way to the door, was a concern.

Anthony rode in from another path. “Storm found signs of an animal coming in from this direction, too.”

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Could these people have owned dogs? He hadn’t seen any, but he didn’t want to rule it out just yet.

He got up from his seat, leaving Chance alone on Ski-Doo, waiting for him, and walked toward the door. He would knock and ask if the owner had seen any wolves around.

Just in case. If it had been dogs, and Storm was wrong, then it would be logical that the dogs had caught the scent of one of these idiots and followed them back to camp.

He stopped when he made it to the door. The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon, but there was more than enough light for him to see the way the door frame was splintered by the handle.

“What is it, Tatum?” Chance called.

Tatum pushed against the door. It took only a little effort, but it came open after the ice broke away.

Not locked, and the handle was busted. Those men hadn’t

belonged here after all.

He turned around and started back toward the Ski-Doo. “You

were right, Storm. Wolves, and they knew we were coming.”

He looked down at the tracks, searching for where those wolves  could have headed. Likely back to the neighboring pack that he’d  attacked in the fall, but which direction had they gone in? And would  he be able to catch them before they got back? He certainly didn’t  have the manpower he did back then, and he and those other men had  had their asses kicked.

He rode along, following the tracks back from whence they came,  Anthony and Storm riding right behind him.

“Did they come this way?” Chance asked.

“Maybe.”

Then he saw it, the way the snow scraped and swished in an odd way compared to the rest of the untouched snow, just off to the side of the tracks and right into the trees.

It was classic, right out of that Disney movie with the Dalmatians.  The wolves had tried to cover their tracks by keeping to the trail

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they’d already made, and then they’d jumped into the trees before  making their run for it.

He doubted they would be able to sweep their tracks away with  the branch of a pine, however.

“They went this way!” he yelled, signaling for Anthony to follow  him. He found a new, smaller path around the trees, and then they  found the much fresher tracks again. They were in business. The  tracks were messy from all the snow hindering them, but they were so  fresh that he and Storm were able to look down at them and tell that

they belonged to large wolves. Werewolves.

Anthony shouted in excitement, revving his Ski-Doo, and the four

of them sped off to catch their prize.

* * * *

They were another two hours away from the pack when Morgan jolted to a stop. He perked his ears, hearing what sounded like a giant bee, coming in from far away.

He looked behind himself. Nick was on alert as well, facing the direction the noise came from, every muscle in his body tense. Terry whined, his chest constricting as his wolf cried.

Nick yipped and skittered ahead of Morgan. He stopped, and then he jumped forward once more.

The wolf signal to run. Got it.

Morgan went through the snow and clamped his teeth around  Terry’s neck, shaking the omega and forcing him to be calm. They couldn’t run, but they jumped over the snow will all the eager desperation they had used when they first started this morning.

The buzzing sound grew louder. An engine. Next Morgan heard the obnoxious laughing that came from the hunters riding them.

Fuck. They had fucking Ski-Doos.

They wouldn’t be able to outrun them.

Morgan quickly shifted back onto two legs. “Nick! Come back!”

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Nick was still ahead of them, but he was making sure to stay close. He turned at the sound of Morgan’s voice and headed back.

Terry sat at Morgan’s feet, his head still looking back in the distance at where the noise was coming from.

They had maybe two minutes before those hunters came into view.

“Okay, listen to me,” Morgan said when Nick was close enough to  touch. “Take Terry back to the pack, I’ll head them off and distract  them.”

Nick growled.

Morgan was not a leading alpha, but in this situation, he needed to be. He grabbed Nick by the scruff and forced him down onto his side with more force than he intended. He leaned in close, making sure the other were heard him.

“Terry doesn’t know the way and needs one of us to show him.  Get the cavalry and follow my scent back to wherever it is they take  me. I’ll try and stay alive till then.”

He let Nick get back onto four legs. “Do you understand?”

Nick snorted but nodded. His jaws opened as he grabbed Terry’s  around the neck and began pulling him away.

Terry resisted, crying that dog cry that put a lance through  Morgan’s heart as he lay down on his belly, staring up at Morgan. He  didn’t understand what was happening. The wolf was in control, and  it wanted to stay with Morgan.

The noise of the engine got to be louder. Morgan didn’t have time  for this, not if they were going to get away safely.

He slapped Terry on the rump, hard. Terry yipped and jumped,  slowly moving along with Nick but still looking back at him.

Morgan shifted back into the wolf. He growled menacingly at his

mate.
 
“Go! Go!”
 
he commanded mentally, showing the omega his

teeth to let him know that he meant business.

Terry stopped fighting Nick and started moving with him. Morgan

watched them run away, still jumping over the mounds of snow.

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Terry would forgive him. If he lived through this.

Morgan raced with every ounce of strength he had inside him back the way he came, following the path that he and the others had created. He ran as though his life depended on it.

If those hunters captured and killed Terry, it would kill Morgan, too. Terry was his life now. He wasn’t about to let these hunters hurt him!

When the roaring Ski-Doos came into sight, Morgan cursed.

Two of them. There were four hunters on the two Ski-Doos. What

if both of them didn’t follow him?

He couldn’t think of anything to do other than make himself the easier target. He kept right on running at them, until he could see the whites in their eyes through the wind goggles they wore.

Then he veered off the path and ran into the trees.

The blast of a shotgun followed him. He heard the explosion of splinters as the heavy pellets struck the tree he’d just dodged behind.

Both Ski-Doos followed him. He could hear the engines and the laughter of the hunters, and they chased after what was to be an easy

target.

Well, with the way the snow was still slowing him down, he  would be easy to catch all right. He just hoped he could cause enough  of a problem for these men and stay away long enough that Nick and  Terry could get away.

Another gunshot followed him into the trees. They were right on  his tail now. Too close to have missed unless…

They were fucking with him. They knew they were going to catch him, and now they were just trying to scare him.

Well, he was scared all right. He didn’t want to end up being a pelt on any of their walls. He wanted to see Terry’s face again, wanted to kiss him, to get to know him.

He pushed himself harder, searching for anything that he could use as shelter. A cave or a stream that hadn’t frozen over yet that he could run along. Anything.

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One of the Ski-Doos rode up right beside him. Yeah, they were definitely fucking with him.

“Let me guess who you are. The nice man from the cabin who asked if we were okay?” said the driver, and the smaller man behind him was loading red shells into a break-open shotgun then snapped it shut when he finished.

“Bet you werewolf piece of shit would’ve tried to eat us if we’d

asked to stay the night.”

“Yeah!” shouted the smaller man in the bitch seat.

Then he pointed the gun right at Morgan’s face.

Morgan did the only thing he could think of to do in that kind of panicked situation. He jumped at the driver.

The scream as the man lost control of the Ski-Doo, crashing it into a leafless shrub, as well as the splash of blood in Morgan’s mouth, was so satisfying.

There was still one more Ski-Doo and two more hunters to worry about, so he kept on going, even when the two hunters still in control of their vehicle stopped to check on their fallen friends.

The driver, whose hand Morgan had bitten, was screaming something awful at the hunter who’d pointed the gun at Morgan’s face.

Morgan reminded himself that he had to stop, to stay close so he could remain a proper target lest they give up on him and start chasing after Nick and Terry again.

“You fucking idiot! What did you think you were doing!”

“I was trying to―”

The hunter Morgan bit slapped the guy full on the face, like he was some kind of girl or something. It left a long streak of blood across the other guy’s cheek.