Texas and Tarantulas (13 page)

Diego gagged.

Trent grinned. His work there was done.

“Why were you asking about us doing okay without you? Where you planning on going? I assume you’ll be dragging Mahon along, too?” Joe fired the questions out in one breath. He inhaled noisily, his face flushed.

“Chill out before you hurt yourself,” Trent advised. “Does it matter where? You gonna need us less if I pick one spot over another?”

Mahon squeezed his hand.

Joe got a suspicious look on his face. “Maybe. What the hell are you up to?”

“Something he shouldn’t be thinking,” Mahon said.

Which pissed Trent off. “You don’t get to decide what happens in my head, buddy. Let’s make that real clear right now.” He would have pulled his hand away except it seemed a juvenile thing to do. “I may have let you fuck me—”
Oops. TMI at the table.
He shut up before he said anything else he shouldn’t.

Joe and Diego got up. Joe pointed at him. “You need to get your temper under control. Topping or bottoming doesn’t make a guy stronger or weaker. You know that. And stop oversharing, for fuck’s sake. Jesus.”

Mahon had his head turned away, but Trent could see the red streak along the one cheek.

He’d been an asshole. “Look, I’m sorry, Mahon. I admit I have some hang-ups about shit I shouldn’t have. I don’t think less of you because you’ve bottomed for me. If anything, that takes a strength I only just got up the nerve to do. So I know better than to say the shit I was in the middle of saying. I just…” Trent realized he had two free hands now. Who had let go of whom? He took his hat off and gave his hair a tug. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t going to spit out any more excuses. “I fucked up. I’ll try harder, but it’s going to happen again.”

Mahon finally looked at him. There was no anger in his pretty eyes. He sighed then took Trent’s hand between both of his. “We both will. We don’t really know each other. Maybe no one ever does and that’s part of what a relationship is, learning about your lover every day.”

“And commitment,” Trent added. “Not like Bill and his guy. That might work for them. I don’t want that.”

“You want me,” Mahon said bluntly. “Just me.”

Trent couldn’t help his sarcasm. “Duh. Who’d need more?” He tempered the sarcasm with a smile. “The question is, am I enough for you?”

Mahon jerked him over for a rough kiss.

Trent’s lips ached and felt like they were swollen by the time Mahon let him go.

“Does that answer your question?”

Trent touched his bottom lip. It was definitely fatter than usual. “Yeah. So that’s settled. When do we leave?”

“We don’t,” Mahon answered.

Trent didn’t like that at all. “You aren’t going off without me.”

“If we both go, who will protect Joe and Diego?” Mahon came back with.

It was a zinger, landing right in Trent’s heart.

Mahon’s gentle expression said he knew it, too. “You saved them when the betas attacked. You’re the strongest of them, and they’ll need you here.”

Trent wanted to argue. He could have—could have suggested that Joe and Diego go with them while neighbors or hired hands took care of the ranch.

Except it would be on Trent’s soul if something bad happened to any of those people because he had insisted on accompanying Mahon.

He wasn’t ready to admit that Mahon was right, however.

“We should get to work.” He put his hat back on and got up, still holding Mahon’s hand.

* * * *

He’s going to leave me. He’s going to be gone by tomorrow.
Trent couldn’t stem those thoughts throughout the day. He kept tangling Mahon’s departure up with his mother leaving them. He was a total mess by the time they stopped working.

“You two coming over for dinner?” Diego asked.

Trent shook his head. “Nah. We’re going to spend the night doing things y’all don’t want me blurting out over the table.”

“No shit.” Joe pointed at him. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your question this morning. You’ll have to tell me where you’re planning on running off to if you want any more biscuits in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay.” Trent didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to get Mahon naked as soon as possible.

When he and Mahon got out of the truck at the trailer, however, Mahon went on alert. Trent saw it in his posture, in the way Mahon went so still and silent.

Trent hadn’t shut the truck door yet. He reached in and took the gun down from the window rack. The shotgun was loaded. He hadn’t been keeping it as close as he should have been.

But he had it in hand now. Trent stepped up to join Mahon and leveled the weapon up. “Tell me where and I’ll blast the fucker.”

Mahon sniffed, his nostrils flaring.

Trent looked through the scope, searching for a bear or a stranger. He saw neither, but Mahon growled and suddenly lunged forward. He’d turned into a bear before his feet—or paws—hit the ground again.

“Wait!” Trent shouted.

Mahon either didn’t hear or refused to listen. He barreled off at a surprisingly fast speed.

Trent hadn’t thought bears could move that fast. Maybe regular bears couldn’t. Mahon was seriously hauling ass.

Trent ran after him, mindful of the deadly weapon in his hands.

A wolf came out from behind the trailer, heading straight for him.

Trent didn’t hesitate to shoot. The wolf went down with a yelp and didn’t move again.

Trent didn’t spend a second on guilt. He saw eleven or so wolves coming out to surround Mahon. There were also two very large, scary as fuck bears. He shot another wolf, then missed a third one but hit a bear on the hip. With one bullet left in the twelve-gauge, he tried to be very careful with the next shot, but a charging pair of wolves had him firing before he wanted to.

Trent didn’t have any extra ammo on him. Why hadn’t he kept the gun fully loaded? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He had to turn back and run for the truck.

He heard a roar that chilled him to the bone. Trent didn’t look. If something was going to get him, he wasn’t going to make it easy. Glancing behind him could cause him to stumble or hesitate. He reached the truck, the door still open, and dove into the vehicle. Trent twisted around and slammed the door shut seconds before one of the wolves rammed against it.

“Yeah, fuck you,” Trent snarled. He got his cell phone out and sent a text to Joe.

Eight wolves, two bears. Need more guns and ammo ASAP.

Then he tossed his phone down and grabbed the bullets.

All the while, the wolf flung itself against the door and window.

“I’m going to blow your fucking head off,” Trent shouted. “You stupid, goddamn fool why don’t you
run
!” Trent had the gun loaded. The wolf kept trying to tear its way through the window.

There was no help for it. Trent scooted back and the next time the wolf’s head came up, he blew the goddamned thing off.

Glass shattered and blood and brains went everywhere. Trent pocketed the ammo and scrambled out of the passenger door, pausing only long enough to make sure he wasn’t going to be eaten before he did so.

He calmly aimed at another wolf and took it out. The bears were a problem—now that he’d looked away from Mahon, he couldn’t tell which bear was him. He could go with the obvious—two bears were going at one, but what if he was wrong? It was hard to be certain when those two bears were also clawing at each other.

I should know this. I should know him anywhere.
It felt like a betrayal not to be able to immediately recognize Mahon.

But he had said they were all Mahons, all interchangeable and built up to be one scary being. Did that mean they looked alike in human form? For one horrible, terrifying moment, Trent imagined it—three men all identical in appearance. The idea made him nauseated. “Fucking no. There’s only him.” He shook himself to get rid of the thought. “Stop it and shoot.” Trent had difficulty doing so when all the damned shifters kept moving. One wolf changed into her human form and started running at him.

Trent wasn’t going to be able to shoot her, damn it. He wished he had a rock or something to hit her with. He had good aim that way, too. But all he had was the shotgun.

She came at him, spit flying, fists up—and she shifted as she leaped.

Trent hit her with the barrel at the same time he pulled the trigger. He was covered in gore an instant later.

Two of the bears and three wolves were left. Mahon had killed a couple of them.

And Trent knew which bear was Mahon. He’d nicked the one on the hip, another was at that one’s side, and the third was trying to get those two bears’ backs to Trent.

Trent aimed at the wounded bear. It wasn’t too cooperative, moving almost constantly. Trent waited patiently until he had a good shot at the base if the beast’s head then he fired.

“Down to one and two,” he murmured. The wolves were keeping out of sight for the most part. He reloaded, replacing the spent bullets.

The bears were tangled up in a warped embrace.

The squeal of truck tires and a cloud of dust heralded Joe and Diego’s arrival. Joe parked the truck beside Trent, less than two feet behind him.

“Which one is Mahon?” Joe shouted over the increasingly loud roars and snarls. “Jesus Christ, it’s—a slaughter.”

Trent refused to feel bad. Then. Later, he’d let the guilt hit him. “They attacked us as soon as we got here. A whole fucking herd of shifters, Joe. There’s two wolves back behind the shed, I think. Not sure. I lost sight of them.” He looked through his scope. “Can’t tell which bear is Mahon now.” Goddamn it, he hated that truth.

“I can.” Diego shifted and darted away from them.

“Diego! No!” Joe screamed again. “No!”

One bear had its back to Trent.

Diego ran around and started biting at the other bear’s heels.

Trent aimed the shotgun. He had to be patient.

The two wolves that had been hiding came charging out at Diego.

Joe shot them both in rapid succession.

“I’ve got this motherfucker,” Trent growled, coming out from behind the truck. Something dripped down onto his cheek. Not sweat, too heavy. He didn’t want to think about what it was. He kept the bear in his scope as he moved, ignoring Joe, ignoring Diego’s fearful yips. The bear that was Mahon was bleeding, and seeing his lover wounded, no matter his scary form, incensed Trent.

He stalked his prey, watching, waiting. He’d get a shot in, hopefully before Mahon was hurt any worse.

The moment came right after a surprisingly fierce growl from Diego. The bear Trent was going to kill jerked back and roared.

Trent fired. He shot again, and again, until the gun was empty. The bear had been dead after the first shot. Trent hadn’t meant to waste bullets, but anger and fear conspired to override his better judgment.

Trent leaned the gun against the truck and took off, leaping over or swerving around bodies of wolves, then of the bears.

Diego had shifted and was kneeling beside Mahon, who hadn’t yet resumed his human form.

Diego looked up at him with glistening eyes.

Trent’s heart stopped. He flushed hot and cold as he dropped to his knees. “Mahon! Don’t you even think about dying on me!” Trent’s nervous system and respiratory system were conspiring against him. He was shaking all over and dizzy from fear and the inability to get a decent breath.

“He’s alive,” Diego was saying. “He’s hurt bad.”

Like there was a hurt good in this scenario. Trent grabbed two handfuls of fur. “Shift, goddamn it. Shift now! I can’t—I can’t—” Trent sobbed once then pressed his lips so tightly together he tasted blood.

He felt hands on his back and arms. Joe, Diego, both—he didn’t know or care as Mahon opened one eye. Trent hunkered down, ignoring the fetid breath and the scary as fuck teeth. He pressed his cheek to Mahon’s head. “Shift, please,” he begged brokenly.

Mahon quivered under his hands. The fur slipped from his fingers and instead soft, sweaty hair lay beneath them.

Trent knew the hot moisture on his cheeks now was tears. He hadn’t cried since his mom had left. Not even when his dad died. There was no stopping himself now. “Mahon.” The name was ripped from him, leaving his chest aching like he’d suffered a wound himself.

Mahon moaned, and he was entirely too pale. Trent sat up and saw the injuries—long gashes down his side and flank.

“Need to see if that’s all of them.”

Joe said it quietly, but the words seemed to explode into Trent’s head.

“Where are you hurting, love?” He’d meant to call Mahon buddy as he often did, but his heart was having none of that sort of distancing.

Mahon’s lips moved, the only sound coming out another low groan.

Trent could see that the wounds would need stitching. They looked deep, but not down to the bones anywhere. Blood wasn’t gushing. In fact, the places weren’t bleeding as much as he’d expect.

“He’s already beginning to heal,” Diego said with wonder. “I’d heard bears were blessed like that.”

Trent didn’t ask. He thought about the knot Mahon had had that first night after Trent had clubbed him upside the head. It had been gone the next day. And Mahon hadn’t been unconscious long at all once Trent had hit him.

His terror, that innate fear of abandonment, didn’t give a shit. It told him Mahon was going to leave him one way or another. Either by dying now, or when he recovered, leaving Trent behind to go fight more psychotic shifters. Mahon might very likely die then, and Trent wouldn’t be able to help him, wouldn’t be there to shoot the fucking bastards trying to hurt Mahon.

“You’re not going without me, you hear?” Trent said in a low, angry voice. “You aren’t doing it. I fucking killed more shifters than I care to count today.
I did it.
I kept them from killing
you.
Don’t you think for one fucking moment that you don’t need me.”

He was so angry, the emotion he always resorted to when fearful of anything. Anger was better than showing that he was weak enough to be afraid.

“Trent, maybe calm down a little.”

Trent whirled on Joe. “Do you know how many I’ve killed now, in all? Because I can tell you, it’s a lot, and he thinks he’s going to leave me here to go take on more like him, and Diego’s old alpha, and whoever the fuck raised him? It ain’t going down like that.”