Full Moon Feral (6 page)

Brendan tried to follow suit, but his mind kept wandering. He could smell the scent of Ripley next to him and that caused Ripley to become front and center when he should have been meditating. Oh sure, his eyes were closed, but Brendan couldn’t help but think that the two had spent a damn week in a cell and they still hadn’t even kissed. They were in this awkward, forced getting-to-know-you stage. They were fighting their tempers and simmering anger to keep them from bubbling over. By the time they had it at bay, the two usually fell into an exhausted sleep.

Trying to control the feral blood was about all Brendan had been able to focus on at first. But now, with Ripley next to him and in this calming atmosphere, Ripley's scent was making him crave something more from his mate. More than just holding him at night when they were tired. Brendan licked his lips, wanting to know what Ripley tasted like.

That’s all he wanted, just a kiss from his mate. To know there was something more to them than just a pull. He was growing to like the guy he was slowly getting to know.

“Psst.”

Brendan popped open an eye to see Ripley leaning toward him. “What?” Brendan mouthed.

“This is boring,” Ripley mouthed back.

Brendan tried not to laugh. Poor Ripley looked really put-out by the class. Boring was not a good thing for this feral, but the meditation could do Ripley a world of good.

“Concentrate,” Brendan mouthed.

Ripley's eyes dropped to Brendan's lips, and Brendan licked them nervously.

“I am concentrating,” Ripley murmured while still staring at his lips.

Did Ripley want to kiss me just as much as I did him?

Brendan began to lean forward; their lips were mere inches apart.

“Focus!” Elder Thorfinn yelled from the front. Brendan grabbed at his chest, and he thought his heart might just jump out with fear.

Ripley growled, but they had been successfully broken up.

Brendan closed his eyes and sighed.
Tonight, I’ll be with Ripley tonight.

Damn Elder split them up for the night. Ripley was back to his pacing and pissed off. Brendan and he had been doing just fine, so no one needed to come in and fuck it up.
Distracted and unfocused.
Getting too close. Need space to prepare for the upcoming shift.
The hell they did!

The cell doors opened, and Ripley charged across the hallway to Brendan’s room.

Brendan was up and moving around with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth while he was folding clothes.

Ripley stopped dead in his tracks to observe Brendan work on that toothbrush like it was a lollipop in his mouth. Turned on, he went to start where they left off in meditation yesterday only to have Brendan’s friends charge through the door.

Ripley was really beginning to like all these guys, but couldn’t they come back in fifteen minutes?

“We’re going out today. Malach okayed it for us.” Oren hopped on the bed, and Ripley felt like jerking him off of it. That was Brendan’s bed, and he didn’t belong on it.
What the hell? When did I start acting like Brendan couldn’t even be around his friends without having me growl at them?
Ripley took a deep breath and rolled his neck. Damn, Oren was right; he could use a dose of fresh air.

Brendan ran into the bathroom and came back out, toothbrush free. “Who’s going?”

Dalton sat next to Oren, and Ripley flexed his hands. “All of us: Colin, Sloan, Knox, Oren, Peyton and a whole team of guards.”

“Guards?” Brendan raised a brow.

“Yeah, Brendan, guards. They want you two to get out because you’ve been cooped up and are hoping it’ll help, but if it doesn’t…”

Dalton didn’t need to go on. Turning, Ripley glanced at several guards hanging outside and waiting for them. Each and every one of them had a tranq gun and cattle prod attached at the hip. Damn, his memory was coming back in tiny pieces. He remembered the cattle prods. They hurt like hell.

The group walked out, flanked by an eight-guard team. Some Ripley recognized like Malach, Lukas and Rayce, but others were new faces. However, they all looked at him like they expected him to come after them at any moment. He might get fresh air, but the rest was going to get old fast. His feral blood loathed being targeted, and Ripley had the feeling this was going to be a fail.

Ripley was ready to turn back and just go in when he felt Brendan’s hand slide into his as they exited the front doors. The sun hit him, and cool, crisp air blew across his face. Brendan had a soft smile on his face as they walked down the trail. Yep, he would suffer through whatever just to see Brendan content.

Moon Compound was huge, but even Ripley could see the guard towers and the high-voltage fences in the distance.

This was his first time getting a look at the place, and he was in complete awe of its size and beauty. They must have some people associated with the government pretty high up to keep this place a secret. Or maybe the shifters had helped the humans out enough that those who knew about shifters felt that this was a small price to pay compared to the debt owed.

For his size, Ripley suddenly felt small. He felt like he went through life with a blindfold, and now that it was off, he was unsure if he didn’t want the damn thing back on. Squeezing Brendan’s hand as they walked with the group, he decided that it was worth it.

Brendan was becoming important to him, and it felt, even though they had this pull for one another, right that they were getting to know each other. He needed something solid and firm to hold onto in this world he had been thrust into, and Brendan had been there every step of the way.

“This feels so good,” Brendan moaned as he stared up at the sky.

Ripley chuckled. “You love the outdoors?”

“I do. My pack isn’t too far from here. In northern Michigan, and we used to spend all our time hiking and fishing. I spent all my time outside to the point where I used to camp outside at night with my younger brother, Whitley. He’ll be coming in a couple years, we’re two years apart.” Brendan sighed.

“You and your brother are close.” Ripley stated. He could just tell by the way Brendan mentioned him that the two were tight.

“Very. I’m one of the few that hope I’m still here when he comes so I can help him out.” Brendan frowned at the ground and so did Ripley.

They weren’t sure what was going to happen to them. Ripley, while lucid and sane, still felt that feral blood course through him, and Brendan had mentioned more than once how his skin crawled. He didn’t seem as deep into the rage, but it hovered and surrounded Brendan like a cloak.

Guilt swamped Ripley, feeling that this was entirely his fault that Brendan was in the state he was because he saved Ripley. While Ripley would forever be grateful, he would always feel that he somehow did wrong by his mate.

The group found a spot to sit in shorter grass, and Oren and Dalton pulled sandwiches and bottled waters out of bags they were carrying.

Ripley was starting to feel at peace with the surrounding and the light banter going on with the group.

Oren was cracking jokes, the flirt of the group. Colin and Sloan sat close to each other, clearly displaying their mating was a love match and giving Ripley hope for his mating with Brendan.

Scooting closer to Brendan, he wanted to feel the heat of the man’s leg while they sat there. Yeah, it was nothing much, but just the slightest touch seemed to calm Ripley and gave him hope that there could be more.

Guards stood around, relaxed and talking to one another, clearly viewing Ripley as a non-threat at the moment. The tension seemed to ease from the group as they ate and enjoyed the beautiful day.

Ripley was about to bite into his sandwich when something felt…off. Instinct took over, and Ripley sniffed the air, sensing something.

When he shot to his feet, guards became on alert. Not to their surrounding but to Ripley.

He was about to tell them what he felt when a pack of massive black dogs came out of the nearby woods and slowly surrounded them. There had to be twenty or more.

“Hellhounds,” Peyton whispered before clambering to his feet and carefully walking over to Rayce who jerked the young man behind him.

Ripley's breathing quickened, and he reached for Brendan.

Brendan stood next to him, gripping him at his arm until Brendan’s nails pierced the flesh.

The hellhounds continued to circle them, and Ripley felt the threat pumping the blood faster through his veins. His vision became hazy as he waited.

One shifted and stood in his demon form before them.
Fuck!
Ripley knew that guy, had seen him many times before.

The guy gave a sick smile that never reached his soulless eyes. Apparently, he was also the leader since the hellhounds stood waiting for his order while studying the group.

Ripley could sense them working on tactics of who to take down first, who to get to, who to kill.

There was no noise, no signal, the hellhounds just attacked.

Malach electrocuted the first one that charged them with a cattle prod, but the group was fast. It wasn't long before the whole pack of hellhounds was on them.

All Ripley could think of was to protect Brendan, keep him safe.
Dear gods, please let us get out of here with our lives.
A hellhound crashed into him, biting deep into his flesh. With a roar, Ripley saw red, and a savage instinct took over. His blood pounded, and he went after the nearest hellhound, complete destruction on his mind.

* * * *

Oren tried to duck out of the way, knowing he was no match against the hellhounds. He stood in the middle of the guards with Dalton and Peyton as the others fought, feeling weak for not being able to help in any way.

A roar filled the air, and Oren turned to see Ripley go fucking crazy on a hellhound. His arm was bleeding heavily, but that was nothing compared to the way he decapitated the hellhound with his bare hands.

Brendan growled and went after a hellhound. His Omega friend’s eyes were wild as he fought blow for blow against the large dogs. No way should he have been able to do that.

The two were completely feral, reminding Oren of a berserker rage as they tore the hellhounds to pieces, literally, relishing in the blood spilled on them.

Hellhounds were breaking through the center, and Dalton yelled to one of the guards, “Shift and give us the guns and prods!”

Several hellhounds whipped their large, beastly heads at Dalton’s command. One threw his head back and released a bone-jarring growl into the air.

The guard immediately threw his weapon at Dalton before shifting to fight in his wolf form. Two other guards followed suit, and Oren scrambled to pick up the cattle prod. The ground was getting saturated with blood, and the growls and fighting were deafening to his ears.

Oren ducked as a hellhound sprung at him in midair, and he juiced him up with the prod as the hellhound landed on him. The guy was stunned although not out, but it gave Oren enough time to shoot the tranq and dammit, miss!

The hellhound turned around and stared at Oren, causing Oren to freeze on the spot. The hellhound's intense stare continued as the beast took a step forward.

Oren took off running, and the hellhound gave chase. He knew this was a mistake, breaking away from everyone, but now, he had no choice with the hound hot on his heels. Suddenly, he heard footfalls behind him, and Oren glanced over his shoulder. He saw the hellhound was now in his demon form. Tan with black hair and eyes, the demon was gaining on him, and Oren turned away, trying to get his legs to move faster.

It didn’t work. Oren felt the hellhound hit him in the back before landing on the hard ground. Crying out, he rolled, kicking and punching with everything he had in him. The hellhound had him pinned, and Oren looked up at the soulless eyes. The demon was terrifyingly beautiful, causing Oren to shiver in terror.

Dammit, he didn’t want to go out this way. Being torn apart. There was so much he hadn’t experienced and wanted to.

The hellhound continued his intense gaze before he struck.

Oren screamed as the hellhound bit him in the shoulder all the way to the bone. White hot pain ignited through his body as he continued to silently scream in anguish. His body jackknifed off the ground, and the hellhound’s body pushed him back down. Whimpering, Oren could barely endure.

The hellhound pulled back, Oren’s blood dripping from his chin. A soft groan came from the demon as if relishing the taste of the vital fluid. He brushed Oren’s jet black hair back as if in affection.

Oren was too shocked, breathing heavily, feeling sick as the blood from his shoulder seeped into his shirt.

“You need to run back,” the hellhound's guttural voice commanded.

Oren barely understood the hellhound. The voice was distorted, deep.

The hellhound picked him up and shoved him toward the compound, but Oren fell back to the ground, weak and afraid.

The hellhound stepped over and picked him up roughly. “Go!”

The hellhound turned, shifted and ran back into the fight. The fight where his friends were being hurt. Oren felt torn. What to do? Help…they needed help.

Oren turned and tried to run back to the compound. He had a chance to get more guards to help his friends.

Running, he began screaming for help as soon as he saw the guard towers. Alarms sounded, but Oren was still screaming for help and didn’t stop until he passed out at the base of the tower, unable to fight the darkness any longer.

“We need to keep the chains on him,” someone murmured through the thick dense fog.

Brendan could hardly understand what was going on, and the synapses weren’t firing. His head was foggy, body numb and he decided to sleep more.

“Bren…c’mon, Bren, can you hear me?” A voice above Brendan called him from the fog a second time.

His eyes felt heavy. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to open them. A moan escaped his dry lips.

“That’s it. Ripley is right next to you and I’m here, buddy.” That voice. Dalton. That was Dalton.

Awareness began to take hold of Brendan. His systems began booting up, and what parts were awake, he wished to hell would go back to sleep. His bones ached, and his muscles screamed in agony.