Wolf Hunter (27 page)

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Authors: Ryan Loveless

BOOK: Wolf Hunter
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He waited until Jaylen’s head twitched. It wasn’t quite a nod, but he seemed to do it with intent, so Tom took it as one. “Okay, you tap this corner here.” He pointed and after a few seconds, Jaylen hit it. He almost knocked it out of Tom’s hand. “Huh,” Tom said, “we better make sure this thing’s anchored down for you.”

Jaylen met his gaze again, leaving Tom no doubt that he understood. He didn’t know the status of Jaylen’s mental state, if he was brain damaged as the doctors said he should be or if he was in there, trapped but whole. But he hoped this new tool would help draw him out and in doing so Westley could get some of Jaylen back. He’d brought it over more for Westley than Jaylen, and he suspected that if Jaylen was in control of his faculties he understood that. Jaylen started tapping again. Food. Drink. Tea.


Westley? He wants tea?”


What kind?” Westley asked from the kitchen.


What kind?” Tom asked.

Jaylen glanced at the options. Green or black. He pushed the return to start button. Food. Drink. Tea. And again. Food. Drink. Tea. Food. Drink. Tea. The bell jangled erratically.

“West?” Tom put one hand on Jaylen to stop him. “I think he wants your tea.” He turned to Jaylen. “Do you want Westley’s tea that stops him from shifting?”

The top of each page had large red and green icons. No and yes. Jaylen dragged his hand over the tablet and stopped at the green. He slapped it.

“He says ‘yes’,” Tom said.

Westley came over and sat next to Tom. He took Jaylen’s hands. The bell rattled and Jaylen’s face scrunched in annoyance. “It’ll make you sick like me. Do you want that?”

Jaylen jerked a hand free to slap the iPad.
Yes
.


You’d rather be sick than be a wolf.”

Yes.

Westley leaned back. “Okay.”

Jaylen sagged into the pillows. The tightness around his cheeks lessened and his eyes filled with relief.

“Can I talk to you alone?” Tom asked. Westley glanced at the kitchen and headed over. Tom followed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He kept his voice down.


No.”


Then why—”

Westley reached the back counter, as far from Jaylen as he could get. Tears hovered in his eyes when he faced Tom. “He tried to kill himself.”

“What?” Tom said, unable to keep the shock out of his tone.


In the bath. He tried to drown himself in three inches of water. If he wants to not be a wolf that badly, then I’m going to help him.” He glanced at Jaylen, who was engaged with his new toy. “God knows I understand it.”


We still don’t fully know what Denton’s bite did to him, aside from healing him quickly,” Tom said. “It could be that he’s going to shift no matter what he does.”


Yeah, and it could be that it did something to his mind, too. It could be
torture
for him right now, and maybe he’d rather have a stomachache over whatever he’s facing. The tea works against hormones, Tom. It might be able to tame some of what Denton did. If it can do that, even a little, I’d say it’s worth it.” Westley’s voice grew steadily louder, but it was still a whisper.


How do you think it’s working for you?” Tom asked. “Is it doing what you need it to, or is it making you sick?”


He’s got the iPad now,” Westley said, ignoring the question. “Jaylen can tell us whether it works or not. Why don’t you go turn the voice setting on?”


In a minute. I need to talk to you about something else.”


What?”


When was the last time you went out?”


I was in the garden yesterday. I wheeled Jaylen out to sit on the porch.”


When were you last in
town
?”


I haven’t been.”


We’re having a meeting tonight. I’d like if you came. I want you to talk about Jaylen.”


I don’t think I can.”


I don’t want you living like this, West. You have to get out. See people. In order for you to do that, the pack needs to know about him.”

Westley handed him a plastic container he’d packed with baggies of dry tea. “Here. For tonight.”

“Think about it? That’s all I’m asking.”


Thought you were asking me to come.”


Aim high.” Tom forced a grin. As he took the tea, Westley’s hand slipped into his in the transition. When Westley didn’t let go, Tom squeezed. It was an automatic reaction, and he regretted it once his mind caught onto it. Looking up, he found Westley staring at him, his expression open and his face pale. “I, uh, I better go.”


Tom...” There was nothing but resignation there. Westley knew he shouldn’t have grabbed Tom’s hand.

Pulling away, he made for the door. He felt like a first class asshole for fleeing, but he wasn’t
allowed
to comfort Westley anymore, pack alpha or no, and knowing that, knowing that he had to leave Westley in such obvious need,
killed him
. “See you guys.”
Lamest departure ever.
Tea in hand, Tom stumbled toward his patrol car and tore away as fast as it would take him. He didn’t notice that he’d almost run Ava down until he sighted her in the rearview mirror demonstrating that she knew a healthy assortment of international rude gestures herself. Rather than pull over, he opted to put his personal safety first and kept on.

 

WESTLEY SAT IN his truck in the church parking lot. He was late. Bad enough to walk in after everything that had happened, but to do it in the middle of the meeting? He’d rather die. Still, he didn’t have much choice. Jaylen needed him to go in there. After Tom had left, they’d looked at the iPad together and discovered that it also featured icons of each of their names, Westley, Jaylen, and Tom. Jaylen had tapped the ‘Tom’ icon and refused to stop. When Westley had apologized for holding Tom’s hand, Jaylen had stared at him like he was an idiot, so Westley was at a loss. Jaylen finally flung the iPad at Westley’s head. Fortunately, he caught it before any damage was done.

So now here he sat, while Jaylen was at home with Westley’s mother, hopefully being fed chilled tea and not getting sick from it. Westley had driven through town with special care, half expecting someone to leap out or for the town to look different. Nothing signaled what La Mer-sur-Plaines had been through since Denton had come to town. Even the Curlicue had reopened. Leslie’s younger sister was behind the counter when Westley drove past, propped up on her elbows, phone held between her hands.

Come on, West, you’re a grown up. Get inside.
It was a half-assed pep talk, but it worked to get him out of the truck. He counted the steps he took into the church, walked past the sign for “La Mer Wolves Team Meeting,” and pushed the door open into the meeting hall. He swallowed a gasp. Here was the proof that tragedy had happened. Instead of a packed house with people standing along the wall for lack of space, the pack members present were clustered into chairs near the stage, leaving rows empty at the back and sides. Tom was at the podium and a heated discussion was going on between him and a handful of betas. Westley looked for his father and found him seated apart from the others. An empty chair beside him was probably meant for his mother. Westley started for it, but reversed his course when his father glared. Instead, he took the seat closest. Westley squared his shoulders and tried to look like he was engaged in the debate.


Can we table this?” Georgia asked, standing.


No, we are not going to table it,” Tom said. “We are going to
bury
it. I told you all at the last meeting we will not be running around biting La Mer’s humans—”


They won’t kill us if they’re one of us!” Cyrus shouted, standing next to his mate Georgia.


No.” Tom shouted so loud the podium trembled. Gathering his composure, he said, “It’s not going to happen. Westley? You’re up.”

The arguing stopped as heads swiveled in his direction. Westley tried not to trip over his chair or curse. He made his way to the stage. Tom stopped him as he climbed the three steps up.

“Sorry, I panicked. They won’t get off the damn topic. But you can do this. You’re good for it and I’m right here to back you up.”

Tom looked like he’d been raked over the coals, but Westley decided not to mention that. He forced a smile instead. “Thanks.”

Straightening his back, he walked to the podium. The desiccated pack staring up at him did so without welcome. Although Westley had done public speaking in his graduate courses, it was never in front of a hostile audience. The pack still blamed him for protecting Jaylen from Denton. After everything that had happened, they still believed that Denton wouldn’t have destroyed them if they’d thrown Jaylen to them.


Hello.” He cleared the catch out of his throat and tried again. “Hello. I’ve come today to ask the pack for its support. I have news regarding the hunter, Jaylen DeWallis.” Growls filled the room. Westley glanced at Tom, who stood at the side of the stage, arms crossed in a way that made his muscles bulge: prime intimidation pose. He stared expressionlessly out to the crowd. “He, um, he was gravely injured in the battle when the Alpha attacked him. He lost his ability to speak. His movements are sporadic and without coordination. He can’t transport himself or manage any of his daily living needs...”


So what?” Alex shouted.


If you’re looking for volunteers to put him out of his misery, I volunteer,” yelled another. “I know your pretty omega hands don’t like pulling a trigger.”


No,” Westley said, raising his voice. He took a breath. “What I’m trying to say is, Denton bit him. He’s a werewolf now. One of us. And he’s staying with me. I’m here to ask you all for your help and your understanding. I’m here to ask for the assurance of his safety.”


He brought Denton on us,” Cyrus said.


He
followed
Denton here,” Westley said. The need to defend Jaylen was stronger than his nerves, and he answered with new confidence. “Whatever reason Denton had for coming, I don’t know. But he’s dead now and we need to move on—”


Do you think I should move on, young man?” The woman’s voice stood out, remarkable for how quiet it was, how restrained, in this room where everyone shouted. Westley looked toward it and saw Agatha Hooper, wife of Ed, mother of Leslie, seated with her hand raised. She lowered it onto her dark floral dress-covered lap. “The hunter killed my family before we knew the Alpha was here. You want me to move on from that?”


There’s no evidence that he killed—” Westley started.


Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

As much as Westley wanted to keep up his denials and keep Jaylen safe from the investigation that would follow if he acknowledged Agatha’s question had validity, he couldn’t look a grieving woman in the eyes and lie to her. So he looked at Tom. Tom walked over and whispered, “No one’s going to prosecute Jaylen now. It’s okay.”

Nodding his understanding, Westley faced Agatha again. “I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you that he’s sorry. He regrets every death.” Westley wasn’t sure if that was true, but he figured Jaylen would have gotten to that point, given that by the night of the attack he’d already been willing to let Westley live and had fought alongside wolves. “I can’t ask forgiveness on his behalf. I won’t insult you for doing that, but I’m asking you to understand that he was a victim too. Denton
killed
his family.”


So that gives him a license to hate all werewolves?” Alex asked. “That sounds logical.”


I’m not saying it’s logical. I’m saying that’s what happened. Look, we’ve been talking about converting the humans so they won’t kill us. I’m asking you, isn’t the reverse true? Aren’t we bound to not harm him now that he’s one of us?” The grumbling was more of a mixed bag this time. Encouraged, Westley said, “He isn’t a danger to any of us. He needs care. I’m doing the best I can, but I need help.”

Robert stood up. “None of this would have happened if someone had mated you ten years ago.”

“We’re not talking about ten years ago,” Westley said.


I declare my claim,” Robert said.

Westley blinked. “What?” Robert was the beta wolf Jaylen had punched out in the Wards’ kitchen for hitting on Westley. Figured he’d try to pull this after what he’d done there.

Robert started for the stage. “I declare you my mate, whether you like it or not, under the claiming rules of the pack. I’ll show you your place. All the damn trouble you’ve caused—”

Westley backed away, light-headed.
This isn’t happening.
“You... you can’t do that—”


Hell’s bells I can’t.”

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