Jacks, Marcy - Mason Returns to His Mate [DeWitt's Pack 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (17 page)

Derek entered the room quietly, practically tiptoeing toward the  bed. He was hardly dripping wet at this point. He’d been put in the  water wearing only the boxers he had on from earlier  this morning,  and they were slightly damp after his run in the woods, so he took a  seat in the chair next to the bed and looked over the medications and

swabs that were on the nightstand.

All regular-looking stuff. Derek didn’t know much about  medication or anything, but he could swear that there was nothing  stronger on that nightstand than some basic over-the-counter Tylenol  painkillers.

Maybe it was more of that werewolf healing in effect. That could

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be the reason why Mason didn’t need anything stronger than this.  That and that magical pond that was on this land. Derek was going to  have to ask about that when he had the time.

“You can stay here as long as you like.”

Derek whipped his head to the door. He hadn’t heard James come

in.

The leading alpha was looking at his brother in bed with sad eyes.  “Maybe you being here will help him to wake up.”

Then James’s eyes went down to Derek’s hand on the bed.

Derek blushed when he noticed what James was looking at. He hadn’t even been aware of when he’d reached out  and took hold of

one of Mason’s hands. But now he was holding onto it in both of his  hands, cupping it gently, and comforting himself with the feel of  Mason’s warm skin.

Derek cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

James nodded. “There are others in this house who are being tended to, so myself, Corey, or Old Maggie might be coming in here once in a while just to check on things. If you think you can handle it by yourself, just let us know.”

James was asking him because of the territorial way werewolves were with their mates. He was gently making sure that Derek didn’t have a problem with anyone else in here touching his lover, even if it was for medical reasons, without his say so.

Derek didn’t know nearly enough about medicine to be given complete control over anyone like that, and even if he was skilled, he would still feel better with someone else coming in and taking a look once in a while.

“I know everyone must be busy, but it would be great if Maggie  or yourself or Corey could come in and take a look once in a while.”

James nodded, and the door shut with a quiet click behind him as  he left.

The room was dark and quiet once he was gone. The window drapes were shut tightly, and hardly any light came in from the

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outside. Derek felt so helpless doing nothing but  sitting there and  waiting for Mason to open his blue eyes so that he could see them one  more time.

Just to check and make sure everything was okay, Derek reached out and touched the back of Mason’s head, gently sliding his fingers over the shaved skin.

He  was due to do it again soon. There was a soft fuzz already growing there but definitely not enough hair to have protected his skull from silver shotgun pellets.

He jerked his fingers back as he felt the horrible indents. He half expected to see blood on his fingertips when he pulled them away, but there was nothing there. His hands were dry.

His face was all right, only slight scarring from that prick’s silver rings. Derek didn’t know what the werewolves would do with all the silver, but he hoped it involved fire.

He’d never hated silver before in all his life.

He checked the back of Mason’s head one more time, finding more of those small craters in the back. He’d not only taken the shotgun blast for him, but he’d also taken pellets right to the head.  The fact that he was alive was a miracle in and of itself.

Derek couldn’t help himself. The situation was so morbid that he had to laugh.

“I figured you had a hard head but didn’t think it extended to the literal definition of it.”

Then he started to cry. He sat there for a few minutes, his messed-up hand over his eyes, just wishing that the life of a werewolf didn’t require so much uncertainty and danger.

Mason was going to be fine, Derek was sure of that, and now that the hunters were all dead, Derek had a decision to make that he

wasn’t sure he could handle.

He loved Mason. He had ever since he was twenty years old.  Since the minute he first laid eyes on the man, and apparently they were mated.

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Derek had a life that he’d struggled to build for himself in  Brampton, though. He wasn’t wildly successful by any means, but he considered himself a success considering the way his story started out.  He’d bought that run-down pawn shop, and in a town of less than eight thousand people, he’d turned it around completely. He even had the respect of the townsfolk, despite the fact that he was openly gay in such a small area.

Now he was going to have to decide if he wanted to go back to that life, where everything was safer and no one came after him  with a shotgun, or stay with the man he loved and practically vanish from the grid, starting over completely.

If only Mason would just open his eyes, then he wouldn’t be having these doubts.

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Chapter Twelve

Blasius could hardly believe his luck. His mate, his Rhyan, was here, alive, and in front of him.

And he’d thought fate had been cruelly laughing in his face for centuries, but no. Not only a new life in a new body, but also his lover returned to him in the form of this human.

Human no longer, he supposed. With his injuries, Blasius had no choice but to take the man away from the battle raging outside―hunters in this time were so much more pathetic than in his.  At least the hunters in his day had the stones to fight up close, using their muscles and  brawn instead of these strange new weapons of

today.

Guns, he’d heard the term now and again but was still becoming  used to the word on his tongue. One of those cowardly hunters had  escaped thanks to such a weapon, which only infuriated Blasius more,  knowing that the man who escaped might just be responsible for his  mate’s current condition.

Regardless, Rhyan had been injured with one such weapon, and was clearly dying of it. Blasius would not allow the man to die on him, not again. So he’d taken him away,  locked himself inside of one of the cabins, and then proceeded to dig the bullet out of the gut of his lover.

He’d tried to comfort him, but Rhyan had screamed something terrible as Blasius’s fingers dug into the wound, and Blasius prayed that Rhyan survived the operation.

Even with Blasius digging his claws into the man, infecting him with his werewolf venom, there was still no guaranteeing he would

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live.

He did live, and now he was resting, in bed, his outer clothing folded on the chair at his side. He was pale but sleeping peacefully.

The odd thing was how Rhyan did not seem to recognize him.  That would change once the man woke up. He would tell him who they were to each other, and he and Rhyan would finally be together after all these centuries apart.

* * * *

Mason’s eyes hurt when he opened them. The room was so fucking bright he could barely see, and he had to turn his eyes away from the offending light just to be able to think.

He put his hand to his eyes and groaned.

“Mason,” Derek said.

His name on the other man’s lips sounded like a relieved sigh, and then Derek’s shadow was over him as his face was gripped between  Derek’s gentle hands and he was kissed, every last inch of his face.  Mason pressed his lips back wherever he could, but Derek was too

quick for him.

His mate was alive. He’d survived the gunshot that Mason had taken for him. Thank God. His eyes burned, and not because of the light in the room, though he pretended that was what it was.

“Sorry,” Derek said when Mason told him what the problem was, and then the light from the bedside lamp clicked off, and they were left in the dark. “I put one of Maggie’s scarves over it. I didn’t think it would be too bright.”

Mason looked down at his side where Derek had put the book he’d been reading by faded lamplight. “How long have I been out?”

When he was able to adjust his eyes in the dark, he saw the way  Derek rubbed his cheeks with the sleeve of the shirt he wore. “Couple of days. You had me so fucking worried. People were starting to say you were in a coma or something.”

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Mason didn’t know what being in a coma felt like, so he couldn’t confirm or deny that that was what his long sleep had been.

“I feel like shit. The back of my head hurts,” he complained.

Derek snorted a laugh through his tears. “It would, you idiot. You were shot in the back of the head.”

Mason reached back to feel the damage. He needed to shave his head again. His hair was really starting to grow out, but he could still feel all the little indents and imperfections left behind from the shotgun.

“Good thing my healing kicked in,” he said. Then he noticed the watch on his wrist.

Derek glared at him. “That had nothing to do with it. It was the pond. Maggie made you drink that water for days, and they even dunked you into it before bringing you back into this room. What’s wrong? Oh, the watch.”

Mason’s face heated, and he knew he was blushing. “You found it, huh?”

Derek smiled at him. “In your jacket pocket when I was putting

away your things. I can’t believe you kept it all this time.”

“I almost didn’t.” Then Mason frowned, thinking about what  Derek had said about the water and hardly knowing what the hell  Derek was talking about. He asked him about it.

“Right, I forgot,” Derek said. “James told me you didn’t know.  Said they only just found out about it recently.”

“Found out about what?” Mason demanded.

“Apparently that pond that you took me to, it has some sort of  healing power. You drink the water and bathe in it, and for the most  part, you’re good as new.”

Mason figured the scars on the back of his head, and likely his  back and legs as well, were the mostly part.

It was the look on Derek’s face that had him concerned. “What’s

wrong?”

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Derek hesitated and then lifted his hands. It took a second before

Mason noticed what his mate was showing him, and sharp pain lanced

into his heart.

He reached out and took hold of one of Derek’s hands and kissed

his knuckles. Derek inhaled a shaky breath when he did that, and  Mason had tears in his eyes for real when he looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop that from happening to you.”

Derek fell out of his chair and put his arms around Mason’s  shoulders. Mason squeezed him back just as tightly, and they both  spent minutes just holding each other and saying that nothing was  their fault, that everything had been out of their hands.

“I can’t leave,” Derek said.

“What?” Mason looked at him. Derek’s voice had been so small

he almost hadn’t heard the other man.

Derek’s look was a guilty one. “I–I was mad when I thought that I would have to stay here because of the hunters, and that wasn’t your fault, but even a few days ago, when you were still lying right there, I was still thinking of going back to my old life. It just seemed too dangerous here, and we haven’t been together for that long.”

Derek shook his  head. “I can’t leave. I’m sorry if what I’ve said was just the wrong thing to say, but that was what I’ve been thinking, but with you awake and now that you’re going to be fine, I can’t go. I need to be here with you.”

Derek stopped speaking, and after a minute, Mason realized that the other man was waiting for him to make his decision, as though  Mason could ever condemn Derek for thinking such things.

If he were a better mate and more of an alpha, he would encourage the other man to go back, if all the hunters were dealt with.  From the way Derek was speaking, he was assuming that they were.

“Should I go get your brother? Tell him you’re awake?” Derek asked when Mason didn’t say anything.

Mason reached his hand out and gently gripped Derek’s arm―gentle was all he could manage, considering his sapped

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strength―and he pulled his mate into bed with him.

“It’s not for that,” he said when Derek protested. “I just want you  to lie with me for a bit before we tell the others. I need you beside  me.”

Derek smiled at him, clearly relieved, and he happily got in bed with Mason, staying above the covers, the two of them wrapping their arms around each other.