Wolf Hunter (22 page)

“
I’m ‘off limits’?” Westley asked. He looked amused. He lowered his fists.

Jaylen flushed. “For getting wolf-raped, yeah. Look, I’m sorry, I, uh, you look like you can handle yourself. I should have let you.”

Westley grinned. “Oh, what? You had an uncontrollable urge to jump in? Feeling protective?”

“
Yeah, well—” Jaylen noticed the way Westley was looking at him and cut himself off. He stuck a finger up between them. “No. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“
Westley and Jaylen sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Westley sang.

He’d saved Westley from an amorous wolf.
He’d saved Westley from an amorous wolf.
The guy wasn’t going to hurt Westley, and Westley could have handled himself. But Jaylen had wanted to be the one to take him down. He’d wanted to do more than punch him. It wasn’t Tom’s rule that had held him back, it was—he cringed to think it—the idea that
Westley wouldn’t like it
if he killed the bastard.
But he touched Westley. He touched him
, his mind shouted, and Jaylen’s skin prickled up like he was on his drug again, but this time he wanted to grab Westley and run his hands over every place that shitwad—he wasn’t going to
think
his name—had touched him to wipe away any lingering sense memory.

Westley stopped singing, and Jaylen wondered how much of his expression gave away what he was thinking. “What?” Westley asked.

“Nothing.” Giving in to his need to show that Westley was his, he grabbed Westley by the back of the neck, yanked him forward, and crushed their mouths together. It was more teeth than kiss, more clash and spit than romance, but Westley smoothed his hands down Jaylen’s back until Jaylen loosened his grip.

“
Good,” Westley said into his mouth and followed the word with his tongue, pressing on Jaylen’s teeth until he opened with a sigh.

“
No one touches you,” Jaylen said when they broke apart again.

Westley rested his forehead on Jaylen’s. “No one but you. Say ‘yes’, Jaylen. Be my mate.”

Jaylen jumped away as quickly as he’d yanked Westley forward. He needed space. The reality of that statement, the idea of commitment and
settling
and... and.... Westley looked stricken, and he’d lost a shade of color—Jaylen was sure there was a chill in the room he hadn’t noticed before, judging by the goose pimples on his own arms—he wanted to jump right back into Westley’s embrace. He forced himself to stand straight. “Look, I don’t know how this night is going to end, and I don’t want you saddled with a dead mate.”

“
If we’re meant to be—”

“
Ask me tomorrow.” Westley’s lips were still wet. Jaylen tried not to lick his own in response.

“
You’ve come a long way since this morning,” Westley said.

“
Yeah. I guess so.” Whatever had convinced Westley they were fate-mated had rubbed off on him. He could dismiss it as wolf mojo, except he’d felt it even when Westley had been drugged up on his tea and supposedly not emitting any type of attractant hormones. Hell, he’d had a sense from the moment he’d heard those library books fall that behind all that racket was someone he wanted to meet. Westley having a different term for it didn’t mean Jaylen should be scared shitless. He could handle a home base, and Westley had said Jaylen shouldn’t expect him to be a house wolf. No fawning. No domesticity beyond what two guys do, which Jaylen expected involved wearing the same jeans two weeks straight and only changing the sheets when they started to smell. So maybe it would be all right if he decided to say yes.

Of course, there was another side of it too. He could do a rough calculation of the wolves he’d killed over the years, of the pissed off relatives, the friends, the
law enforcement
gunning for him. He didn’t expect any of them would mind if Westley got in the way. They’d mow him down. Tom’s dubious hold on authority was the only thing (barely) keeping them in line. Without Tom around, Westley would be open game for anyone looking to get vengeance. He had to say ‘no’ when Westley asked again. Practicality above emotion.

Westley took Jaylen’s hand. “Come downstairs.”

Jaylen forced a smile. “I’d love to, but only because I have to check on my weapons. Come with me?”

“
Sure.”

Tom had put Jaylen’s bags in the laundry room. Jaylen shoved a pile of unfolded clothes aside and lifted them onto the table that stood between the washer and dryer. He unzipped the first bag and started laying out its contents. Westley watched quietly for awhile, but when Jaylen pulled out the third machete, he spoke.

“You, uh, you’ve got a lot of stuff there.”

“
Yup.”

“
You use all that?”

Jaylen picked up the machete and took a few practice swings, slicing the air. Westley jumped. “All of
’em at least once. Like the knives best.”

“
I never heard of knives killing wolves.”

“
Danni taught me a spell. Everything you see has been anointed with the finest sorcery a red-headed, fishnet-wearing, platform heel boot-sporting, college dropout witch can manage.” He met Westley’s gaze. “And that’s damn fine.”

Westley grinned. “You know, when I called her, before I told her why I was calling, she said she was happy to give away your hand in marriage.”

“Oh she did?”

“
You told her about me.” Westley looked ready to jump up and down.

“
Yes, I told her about you.” Jaylen rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling either.

“
So, you guys are close?”

“
I see her every few years.”

“
So....? No?”

“
She’s the only friend I’ve got.”

“
Oh.”

From upstairs, screaming.

“What was—?” Westley said.

“
It’s started.” Still clutching the machete, Jaylen grabbed Westley by the elbow and shoved him into the sewing room. “Stay here.”

“
Jaylen—”

“
Stay.”

“
I’m not actually a dog. You can’t —”

Jaylen stepped out and slammed the door. He shoved a chair under the knob. “Don’t make a sound.”

“I’m flipping you off,” Westley yelled. “I can help!”

Jaylen grabbed another knife and sprinted upstairs. Damned if he’d let Westley roam around when he was in big dopey nice guy mode.

The house was in chaos. Wolves everywhere, some still with bits of human skin hanging off them, windows broken, glass in fur, and the fucking
sun
shining high in the sky. Jaylen backed off, uncertain which wolves were supposedly his allies and which ones were Denton’s. The wolves in front of him were busy trying to tear out each other’s throats, so he left them to it and eased his way into the center of the house. The dining room’s sliding doors hung loose on their hinges, and the map on the table lay in shreds as two wolves battled on top of it. Jaylen looked toward the front door.

It was wide open, held so by Mrs. Ward’s body, which was half in and half out of the house.

The stench of fresh blood burned Jaylen’s nose.

“
Jaylen! Where’s Westley?”

Jaylen turned to see Tom. “Locked him in the sewing room.”

Tom gestured at a group of slight wolves behind him. “Take these omegas down to him.”

Jaylen didn’t argue or bristle at the command. Tom growled something at them, and they all followed when Jaylen walked. Westley tried to rush out when Jaylen opened the door.

“Tom needs you to watch these guys,” Jaylen said, as the wolves poured into the room, dividing around Westley like water around a stone.

Westley nodded, evidently satisfied to have a task. “Jaylen? Stay safe.”

“Yeah.”

On impulse, he grabbed a kiss. The heart-broken look on Westley’s face made him want to give it back. “That wasn’t goodbye,” he said.

“It better not have been.” Westley shut the door on his own, leaving Jaylen in the low lighting of the laundry room. He glanced at his weapons and shoved them back into the bag they’d come from. He zipped it and pushed it with the others inside the dryer for safe keeping. The last thing he needed was for some human-shaped wolf to get down here and find his arsenal.

The wolves that had been fighting in the kitchen were both dead, both still wolves. Jaylen ran through the pantry and through the heavy swinging door into the dining room. Tom and Scott were barricading the door while Scott’s mate, who had shifted, prowled nervously beside him.

A wolf came charging in through one of the broken windows. Jaylen knifed it. It charged again.

“
Move!” Tom yelled. Seeing Tom shift, Jaylen got out of the way. He sprinted up the stairs. Two wolves passed him going down, but neither paid him any attention, and neither bore Denton’s traits, so he let them go. He skidded into a bedroom. Seeing the two bodies on the bed, he hesitated. Mrs. Ward lay beside her husband. Despite the chaos, Tom had taken the time to arrange her. From the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of gray as a wolf leapt through a hall window and bounded toward him. He dispatched it. As he stepped over it, he heard a slow clap. He turned. Denton, in his human form, walked toward him.

“
Your technique has always been something I’ve admired,” he said. “I would ask you to teach me if mine didn’t work so well.”

“
Hasn’t worked on me yet,” Jaylen said.

Denton smiled. “I think it’s time to rectify that. You’ve lived with grief too long.”

Jaylen raised his knife. It gleamed with blood. “Mercy killing?”

Denton looked put out before he offered a sad head tilt. “No, son, no. I’ve never cared about you at all. I don’t think of you as anything but a nuisance. But you seem intent on blowing things all out of proportion.”

“You killed my family.”

Denton stared. “Of course I did. I’m a bad, bad man. But I’m a perfect wolf. Your problem is you’ve conflated the two and transferred that into a vendetta against all wolves. You should have spent all this time killing bad men, Jaylen. You’ve wasted your life.”

“I didn’t—” Jaylen stepped forward. “I know what you are. What wolves are.”

“
You know what I am,” Denton repeated. “You assumed you knew the rest.”

“
No—” He wouldn’t let doubt slip in. This was what Denton did. He played with psychology and, dammit, Jaylen had been the butt of it long enough to know better.

“
And I’ve let you live all this time because I didn’t care. You amused me. But, my plans don’t include you nipping my tail.” He brightened. “Plus, I understand you’re almost happy now. I smell the omega on you. Westley, was it?”

“
You don’t say his name.” Jaylen surged forward, almost blinded with rage. Denton leapt. Jaylen didn’t realize he was falling until he hit the ground. Denton had shifted in the air. He struck Jaylen’s windpipe with his teeth, and tore. Jaylen struggled to get up, one hand clasped over his bleeding throat, but Denton’s great weight kept him down.

Suddenly, another wolf sent him flying. Denton backed off, growling, as two large wolves cornered him. They charged together. Jaylen forced his eyes open to watch the finish.

He closed them to the sound of whimpering. Then a soft, warm tongue lapped his cheek, licking away tears he didn’t know he was crying.
Westley. Please be Westley.
A second nose snuffled him.
Tom.
He smiled as he drifted away.
Yes, Westley. My answer’s yes. I’m so, so, sorry that my answer is yes.
The sounds around him faded until the last noise he heard was Westley’s whine.

CHAPTER TEN

IT HAD ALL gone to shit after. This was a mess even the pack elders—what was left of them—couldn’t sweep under the rug. Whole damn police department had died, apart from Tom. The president of the city council had been found hanging upside down on the staircase in his home, his foot caught in the railing. The blood from his neck had trailed down the steps drip by drip, soaking the hair of his equally dead second-in-command, who had collapsed face first as if he’d tripped as he ascended the stairs and stayed there to die. Bits of the president had been found in his mouth.

Westley had come to naked and wrapped up in the Wards’ tennis net, suspended over the court in a way that rendered the net part hammock, part bondage device. He’d lain there, dangling, listening to the ambulance sirens that had woken him. God knew who’d called them—seemed the whole town was inside the Wards’ house, dead or half-dead.

A week had passed since he’d scraped his knees on the green asphalt after he managed to twist free.

Scraped knees. Funny how his mind focused on that when his thoughts slipped back to that night. It all boiled down to scraped knees.

And screaming.