Chapter Five

I smell sex and candy.

—Marcy Playground

 

AFTER THE MAN dried up his tears, he seemed to be on a maddening cleaning spree. Thomas yawned, uncrossing his paws and watching as the man moved back and forth through the cabin windows, sweeping and then carrying things. Thomas could smell the coals from his fire and glanced at the empty firewood stack next to the exterior cabin wall. Thomas doubted the guy would tough it out through the winter; he was probably just passing through from the looks of it.

But then, Thomas’s nose twitched as the smell of soap lingered in the air, and he huffed. The man was bathing. The soap irritated Thomas’s nose—too strong. He heard the man’s gruff voice speaking to himself about weakness and being alone. Thomas yawned again. It was getting pretty depressing and making Thomas think of his own sad feelings, which he tried to keep buried deep inside. This man’s emotions were all over the place. Deciding he’d had enough for the night, Thomas stood and stretched.

He circled the cabin, trying to find the best place to observe while the man was occupied. Focused on the house, Thomas missed the metal post propped on the side of the shed, knocking it over. He bolted for the path, then listened for the man to come out and inspect the noise, but he didn’t. Frustrated, Thomas sniffed around until he found a better spot closer to the foundation of the cabin.

He decided this would be a much better spot for future observations as the light from the last lantern deep inside the cabin faded out. Thomas understood the man was going to bed. That wicked streak in Thomas made him snarl a slight smile as he tipped his head back and let out a long howl into the night. He then listened and waited for the man’s fear to wash over him. But Thomas’s ears twitched, and his tail thumped as the first sign of happiness from inside that lonely cabin filled the night.

Thomas headed home to the packhouse, deep inside a mountain in a massive cave system, where they had resided since the beginning of their existence. He was sure there would be much fuss and debate over this new development. The pack hadn’t had anything this exciting happen for quite some time, not since Thomas’s arrival, so the gossip would be at DEFCON levels. Thomas slinked through the narrow passage and into the front entrance area of their cave, so obscure it had never been found by humans. He shifted and pulled his clothing from the hook and quickly dressed. Thomas headed directly to the council chamber, where everyone had already gathered to hear news about the newcomer.

“Ah, just in time, Thomas, please report,” Adler said, and the other councilmembers looked just as eager to hear the news.

“At this point, there isn’t much to report,” Thomas said. “One male seems to intend to stay for a while. I don’t know if that will be through winter or not. Mr. Steele indicated he’d be returning with supplies to aid the man. Firewood was stressed, and the message was clear about not hunting or harming the Wolves. In the short time I observed, he cleaned the cabin and went to bed. I would be glad to continue surveillance and report back until there is an update on my mate.” Thomas stood and waited for questions from the council.

“Too soon to tell, then?” Malcolm asked.

“Yes, Father, but my gut feeling, at this point”—Thomas lifted a finger—“is that he isn’t a threat, and we should honor the treaty. Should that change, I recommend we reconvene and consider our options. This man seems to be here to grieve in peace, not look for trouble.”

“Did you see any weapons?” Councilwoman Wessler asked.

“No, ma’am, I did not. But with him arriving late in the night and the rundown of instructions, it didn’t seem like a planned or organized arrival.”

“Thank you, Thomas. You may take your seat,” Malcolm said.

Thomas bowed to the council and then sat with the pack. By the end of the discussion, it was decided that Thomas would patrol, alternating with Penn and Talley should Thomas gain any new leads on his mate’s current location. The rest of the scouts would adjust their routes to make up for the loss of Thomas covering his regular routes. Once that was worked out, they were dismissed for dinner.

In the Mitchum pack, a very old-school, council-ruled, and Alpha-led pack, duties were divided into groups. Everyone worked their assignments for the continued success of the pack. Thomas liked to joke that it was a little cultish, but he went with the flow for now. Designated hunter Wolves brought in much needed game, even though they could all hunt. The goal was to not deplete resources or waste. Patrol Wolves—scouts like Thomas and his best friend, Penn—handled daily routes to ensure the pack was safe from any kind of threat and delivered reports on any observed activities.

The trader Wolves shifted to humans and mingled in the outside world to obtain goods, medical supplies, and necessities the pack could not build or create on their own. A cook staff, an archive staff, a communications staff, and several other units made their way of life a well-oiled machine. Everyone was equal, but status and honor were determining factors. The constant fear of shame, dishonor, or banishment kept everyone in line. All viewed the laws as strictly infallible. Thomas had once jokingly called the council chamber “Kremlin Hall.” That had also not gone over well.

Everyone ate together in a tremendous dining chamber. Each lone unmated Wolf had their own smaller quarters. Thomas had chosen that option, while Penn, also unmated, decided to remain with his widowed mother. Thomas didn’t want to live with his father. Typically, families had larger homes within the cave system to accommodate their needs.

For such an old-fashioned communal mentality, the pack had some modernization: electricity, running water, older technology, and somewhat updated furnishings. The pack had older vehicles, dated weapons, and simple clothing. They also had an infirmary, a sanctuary for their gods, a holding cell, a common room, and a classroom where children were schooled in a group setting.

Thomas opened the door to his tiny quarters and kicked off his shoes. He stripped out of his clothes and flopped down onto his bed. He lay there in his solitude and thought about the only thing he ever thought about: Ryan.

Nine years.

He had been prepared to wait a lifetime for just a few good solid years with Ryan, but now the hope crept in, and Thomas smiled.

“Where are you, Ryan? Come home to me,” Thomas whispered in the near darkness. Living in a pack didn’t offer up much privacy, but here in his own space, it was quiet, sealed shut, and dimly lit. Thomas already knew what he was going to do as his legs began to move restlessly against the sheets. The muscles in his ass squeezed tight as the sensation in his groin grew. Thomas visualized Ryan’s muscular body and handsome face as his hand slid down slowly. This—his only satisfaction—as the pack only believed in lifemates.

Down his stomach and over the fine line of hair there, he continued until at last, he took himself in hand and squeezed with a grip he imagined as Ryan’s strong hand. He backed off, smiling and touching himself in a more curious and nervous way instead. That was it; that was Ryan’s touch. And how it turned Thomas on, even after all these years. Ryan’s nervous finger and sweaty palm. The slight tremor and timid exploration. So fearful of venturing south but never hesitating to explore the northern regions. Thomas slid his other hand to his chest and barely grazed a finger across his nipple.

“Yes,” he whispered into the dark as he let his fingers, Ryan’s fingers grow braver. Until they turned to more lust-driven determined pinching and flicking. Then tugging as his other hand began to stroke his length in earnest. He was long and hard, twins already tight since he hadn’t done this in a while. It would be over far too soon. But Thomas couldn’t slow down now as he panted, jerked, and arched his back, imagining a mouth on him that had never gone there before, a mystery hand that existed only in his mind. And another inside him at last…and that did it. Thomas watched as he streaked his bare skin with his heated release.

“Fuck.” Thomas flopped his head down on the pillow as he reached for a discarded shirt.

Thomas lay back, covering himself, and closed his eyes. He felt better and worse, his right mind working again, and he was worried. He knew something terrible had to have happened for Ryan to risk an escape. Thomas smiled a little, knowing the kind of methodical planning Ryan would have put into such a thing. Now, he just had to not get caught. This, Thomas feared the most because he knew once Ryan was out—Thomas knew he would never go back in.

Ryan wouldn’t let them take him alive. Thomas thought about the guy in the cabin, wondering what his sadness was and if it was half as heavy as Thomas’s. He rolled over, adjusted himself, and prayed for Ryan’s safety. Hoped he could earn his forgiveness. Prayed the council’s incongruity over his human mate would wane. Wished he wouldn’t have to leave his pack and risk going feral. The stories were worse than any horror movie he’d ever seen as a kid. The worst fate for a Wolf.

*

THE NEXT MORNING, Thomas was up early, anxious. After a quick breakfast, he shifted and was out the door to start his observations on the newcomer. Thomas ran, stretching his legs until he hit the Steele boundary, and then he padded along the trail. Thomas parked it at the spot on the path behind a wide oak he’d determined was the best vantage point to peek at the porch from. There, he waited. Clearly, this dude was sleeping in.

Thomas sighed and let Wolf gnaw on a stick for a while. He nosed a pinecone back and forth between his snout and paw out of boredom. They snapped at a butterfly a few times and blew air through their long nose to annoy a spider, forcing it to change its direction. Patience never was one of Thomas’s greatest strengths.

He snapped his head up, and he was on his legs, leaning forward with a step as he thought he heard a name. His ear twitched. The guy cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, Thomas’s sturdy supports nearly gave out beneath him.

“Ryan.”

The name echoed through Thomas’s brain. It couldn’t be, but Thomas sniffed the air, something undoubtedly familiar there, and it was stronger.

He had to know.

Thomas’s fur stood on end as he low crawled and got closer and closer to the cabin. The longer hair down his spine rippled as he slunk around the porch to the lakeside corner of the house. Trailing along the stone wall until it met with the mountain face, he sensed the bedroom and bathroom were deeper inside the cave, but he’d be able to hear and smell far better here than from the path.

Here, where the water from the cabin’s plumbing flowed down the hill, he would catch scents better as it drained from filters into the lake. Thomas lay with his ear close to the exterior stone wall and listened. It was quiet for a time, but he tilted his head to the side as an unmistakable muted rhythmic sound continued. Thomas shifted uncomfortably at the recognition of what the man was doing. Only one thing sounded like that. Thomas could hear the faster blood pulse from this close.

When the man rasped out a strained Yes, Thomas knew. He knew, and he stood, smelling the air as the scents assailed him.

It was him.

When the man cursed a final extended Fuuck. Thomas had no doubt. He would know that sex curse until his dying breath.

Thomas almost turned and ran for the front door in his desperation to see Ryan and tell him everything, but a wave of sadness and guilt coming from Ryan struck him. Thomas also realized—damn, he was Wolf. He could shift, but he’d be naked, and he didn’t exactly look like his old self anymore. Gone was the skinny Thomas Ryan had known and loved. The broken boy who might look fixed but could never shake the trauma that still remained despite a different appearance. And how was he ever going to explain it all—not to mention the pack laws he’d be violating.

Thomas had grown taller, filled out, had muscle, and was seen as a strong male in his pack—the son of an Alpha. After he’d recovered from the transport van accident, the bite from his father, and was well enough for his first shift all those years ago, it had healed all of his injuries and changed his body. Grace had explained what would likely happen, that the bite from his father would correct the missing Wolf DNA. It had completed the link in the DNA chain and transitioned him from only being part of who he was meant to be and becoming his whole self.

Ryan would not recognize his body but attributes about his face he would. He would know some of Thomas’s features. Thomas worried suddenly if he would be able to recognize Ryan. He’d only seen him, covered in nasty grease and trying to rinse it off in the stream before Thomas had to leave him there alone. Once more, outside a small shed, he’d only heard him there, and he’d hated that moment, the decision to return home, but again, he’d been in his Wolf form, and pack law was pack law.

Sensing the morning jerk-off sesh was over and Ryan would be moving about the cabin, Thomas bolted across the yard and resumed his original post behind the oak to watch. Surely, this was a dream. Thomas panted, anxiously waiting. He hoped Ryan would come outside so he could just see him. To confirm without a doubt that it truly was him.

His soulmate.