Microsoft Word - Jacks-Marcy-Hunted-and-on-the-Run.doc (3 page)

“Please don’t kill him,”
he begged.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but it definitely wasn’t what did happen.

The young wolf barked and lunged at the hunter then jerked to a stop right when the poor guy yelled and fell backward on his ass in the mud.

The hunter’s body trembled as he stared at the wolf, who was still looking down at him like he was lunch. His hackles raised, and those pointed teeth bared.

It must’ve gotten obvious to him that this was his chance because the hunter scrambled to his feet and ran faster than Storm had ever
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19

seen any human go. He vanished into the trees, and soon Storm couldn’t even hear the sounds of his clumsy feet stomping around in the leaves.

Then the wolf turned on Storm, and he shivered.

The wolf approached, and Storm recognized him immediately.

“You’re that kid
―
”

“Don’t call me that,”
the wolf snapped.
“I’m twenty years old
.
”

Still young, Storm thought, but he made sure to keep those thoughts to himself. At least he was of age. Better than that, he wasn’t a teenager anymore either. Storm felt a little less guilt and sickness about his attraction to the guy.

“Where’s the rest of your pack?”
he asked, laying his head back down to rest.

“Not here,”
said the wolf, and Storm wished he knew the were’s name so he could stop thinking of him as just
the wolf
.

“I came on my own.”

He did? Strange. Storm expected at least a small group of the alphas to be tracking him, not just one lone, angry alpha.

“Well, you caught me. Now what?”

The wolf transformed into the body of the handsome young man Storm remembered from that snowy day in November. His eyes were as sharp on Storm as ever.

He flinched when the guy put his warm hand along the deep scratch left behind by that bullet, but not from the pain. He was afraid of what the wolf planned on doing to him.

Oddly enough, the other man jerked his hand away. “Shit, sorry.

Did I hurt you?”

Storm looked at him oddly. “
What do you want?
”

The man knelt down quickly, grabbing at one of those shoulder backpacks he’d been carrying with him while in his wolf form.

The man unzipped the bag and started pulling out…gauze?

He pulled out all kinds of bottles and bandages, and it all looked like the kind of thing that meant he was planning on―

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Marcy Jacks

Surely not.

“Take it easy, now,” said the were. “I’m going to take care of you.”

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21

John did his absolute best to wrap up the wounds of the cougar.

Storm didn’t seem to have the energy to make the shift back into a man, and that wasn’t a good sign.

He grabbed a water bottle from out of his bag and uncapped it.

“Here, drink this.”

Storm turned his mouth away, another tired groan rumbling from deep within his chest.

John grabbed him by the face and forced his head back. Storm didn’t even put up a resistance when John held the bottle upside down over his throat, forcing him to drink.

“What did you give me?”
Storm asked.

“Something to make you feel better.” He hoped, anyway.

The water came from the pond on pack property, and within the last year they’d discovered there was something otherworldly about that pond. The water had some kind of connection to the spirit world, and when someone drank from it, or swam in it, it could heal their injuries. Once or twice it had also brought a few people back from the dead.

It didn’t always work, however, and that was the main problem with it. No one in the pack, not the wise woman, not the alpha, and not even the vampire medium who had also become an addition to the pack, could figure out just what it was that made the pond so magical or how to get it to work.

John just hoped that it worked this time, if only a little, so that Storm wouldn’t be in so much danger of dying in front of him or something.

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Marcy Jacks

He was pleased to note the way Storm’s brown eye cleared up, and though the long scratch down his side caused by a bullet didn’t close up entirely, it no longer had the infected look and smell that had made John fear for Storm’s life.

Storm actually managed to lift his head and look down at himself without much of an effort.

His eyes were curious. “What did you think it was? Poison?”

John had meant it to be a kind of lighthearted joke, but when Storm didn’t answer, he knew otherwise.

Storm got onto four paws, but there was still some effort involved since that long scratch had gone right down to the muscle of his hind right leg.

John put his hands under the cougar to help steady him.

“I got it,”
Storm said, and John released him.

With a little more effort and concentration, Storm closed his eyes and shifted back into a man. Unlike when John had witnessed it the first time, this transformation was slower, more drawn out.

When a shifter changed shape, the amount of time could take anywhere from five seconds to five minutes, depending on several factors. How often the shifter made the change, for one thing.

Whether or not they were wearing clothing, and also health. It took some time for bones to change and realign themselves, as well as new muscles to grow, but Storm had done it ninja style.

The first time John had watched Storm shift, right before the cougar vanished into the snowy forest, he’d been wearing clothing, and it had taken him less than ten seconds to get into his animal form.

He’d practically jumped into the air as a man and then landed on the ground as a cougar.

It hadn’t been quite that fast or as cool, but that was how quickly John thought of it.

Now, with no clothing to hinder him, it took Storm the better part of three minutes to become a man again. John’s best time was twenty-five seconds, if he was in a real hurry.

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Storm immediately put his hand over his right eye, the one that was missing. His long hair was loose and dirty around his shoulders.

The sight of the man brought out protective instincts that John didn’t know he had.

“Can you grab my clothes?” Storm pointed to the little pile currently sitting in a mud puddle over by a shrub. It looked like the hunters had gone through his things after they’d captured him.

John wrinkled his nose. No way.

“I brought you an extra set of clothes. They're clean, but I don’t know how well they’ll fit.”

Storm’s one eye widened in surprise, and his mouth dropped.

“You did?”

Okay, clearly they were going to have to get some things straight here.

“I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Actually, never mind, I know it’s what you’re thinking. Otherwise you wouldn’t have run away from me and hid all winter.”

Storm was still staring at him with that shock on his face. “Why else would you chase me?”

The question stunned John so much he nearly took a step back.

“You―you don’t know?”

Storm was finished talking with him apparently. “Can I at least have my eye patch? I doubt you brought a spare one of those.”

John blushed. He hadn’t. He went over to the mess that was formerly Storm’s human clothing and shifted through them, all the while keeping an eye on the man behind him to make sure he didn’t try and run again before he finally found the little black thing.

He had another water bottle with him, and since that water wasn’t filled with magical healing water, he used half the contents to wash the eye patch before he gave it back to Storm.

Storm took it and quickly put it over his eye, but not before John could see the blood and scarring that was there.

“Are you injured?” he asked. “Other than your side, I mean.” John
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Marcy Jacks

tried not to stare too hard at the long red line that went down Storm’s ribs and leg.

“No, just a little bloody,” Storm said, and then he stared at John.

“I’m Storm, by the way.”

John nodded. “Yeah, I know. Morgan told us all your name after you vanished. You have a last name to go with that?”

Storm shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Weird. “I’m John, John Platt,” he added as an afterthought.

“Well, thank you for chasing away those hunters, John Platt.”

John wished he knew what was going through the man’s head. All he was getting right now was suspicion, and Storm had completely cut his mind off so that John couldn’t communicate with him telepathically.

Werewolves couldn’t all talk to each other in their heads, even in wolf form. That ability was left only to the leading alpha, who could telepathically speak to all the wolves in his pack, if their minds were open to it, or two mated werewolves. John hadn’t known that the same thing applied to werecats, but they seemed to speak to each other with little effort before. The problem was that Storm apparently had no idea what that meant.

“What did you do with Chance?” Storm asked.

“That hunter kid you left with us?”

Storm nodded. “He is likely a bit older than you, but yes, he is the one I was referring to.”

“He’s fine,” John said, ignoring Storm’s comment. “Tried to escape a couple of times, freaked out when he had his first transformation, but otherwise fine. He still won’t really talk to anyone, and that’s fine since most everyone else doesn’t want to talk to him.”

Storm winced. “But he’s being treated well?”

John nodded. “Yeah. Isaac took to hanging out with him since he’s a former hunter, too. Kid called him a traitor and wouldn’t speak to him for the longest time, but I think Isaac’s starting to get him to
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come around.”

John handed Storm the extra clothes he’d brought with him, and Storm’s hand robotically reached out to take them when John’s comment registered.

“A former hunter? You have other former hunters in your pack?”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you about that later. It’s not safe here. For all we know that hunter you convinced me not to kill is running back to his camp right now, and he might have others there waiting for him who will be coming back here soon.”

“And I assume you are taking me with you?”

John grinned. “Yup. Don’t even think about trying to get away.”

* * * *

It had apparently been the wrong thing to say. John wanted Storm to come with him, and he wanted Storm to have a place in DeWitt’s pack, but those things couldn’t happen if he thought that John was kidnapping him.

Old Maggie, the pack’s wise woman, always said that his sense of humor was going to get him into trouble.

They were so far away from his pack land that it meant that John had some time to convince the other shifter to stay with him, at least for now. John still had to explain that they were mated, but he didn’t want to force Storm to be with him.

Chance had said some things had been happening between Storm and that hunter that John had killed, so he needed to tread carefully.

With the cash he had packed away with him, he was able to rent a motel room on the highway for the night and then ordered pizza to take out.

Storm might not have been too pleased about John dragging him along, but the idea of a heated room, with beds, hot water, and a hot meal, was too appealing for even him to say no to.

“Why did you only get a room with one bed?” Storm asked,
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Marcy Jacks

looking down at the single bed in the room and then at John.

John blushed and looked away. “I don’t really have a lot of cash on me, so…” He trailed off. “I’m not hinting or suggesting we share it or anything,” he said quickly. He would actually love it if they shared it. “I’ll take the floor, and you can have the bed.”

“Don’t be stupid. You paid for the room. I’ll take the floor.”

John’s inner alpha wasn’t about to be swayed. “The last time I slept in a bed was about a week ago. I’m guessing it’s been longer for you. You’re taking it.”

Storm growled low in his throat at the command.

John could remember all the way back when he was still a pup, probably no more than eight years old, and he had a pet dog and a pet cat.

The dog was totally an omega, and he followed John around like nobody’s business with one of those dog smiles constantly on its yap.

He was John’s best friend as a kid. The cat, well, John had a hard time figuring out the cat. His mother liked cats, which was strange considering her wolf heritage, but when John’s father brought home a puppy, she insisted on a pet of her own, so she’d bought a cat.

John could remember feeling only irritation with that fluffed-up, pampered thing. It had taken one look at their living room, and then climbed on top of the couch, in John’s father’s spot, and curled up to sleep, apparently deciding that it owned the house and everything in it.

John’s father explained that every cat was an alpha, and no matter how many times John barked, chased, or did whatever, nothing would change that mentality, and that was why dogs hated them so much.

John figured that must be what was going on inside of Storm’s head. He was an alpha, the cat version of it, anyway, and he didn’t like being ordered around, even when he was trying to give John control of the bed.

“I will, however, be taking the first shower,” John said, heading for the bathroom as quickly as possible. He stopped at the door and
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27

turned around. “You’ll be here when I get out.”

He didn’t make it a command, but he hoped it didn’t come out sounding like a beg, either.

Storm sat down stiffly on the edge of the bed. “To be honest, I’m too hungry to leave now, and you already ordered the food.”

Good. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be back.”

He still didn’t trust that Storm wouldn’t want to run if the impulse took him, so when he entered the bathroom he made sure to take their bags of clothes with him.