Jacks, Marcy - The Hunter's Omega Mate [DeWitt's Pack 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)
Authors: Marcy Jacks
Tags: #none
DeWitt's Pack 2
The Hunter ’ s Omega Mate
When Tristan Scott ran away from his pack to avoid the roving eye of a cruel alpha, he never expected to save the life of Isaac Foster as he was drowning in the river, nor did he think the gorgeous man with purple eyes would be his mate, or a hunter of werewolves.
Isaac has hunted werewolves ever since watching his family being murdered as a kid. He hasn't had time for relationships, but there's something about Tristan he can't get enough of.
Their easy time together is shattered when they're attacked and Tristan is forced to transform to defend them. Isaac cannot believe it, and threatens to kill Tristan should the two ever meet again.
But meet they do. They cannot separate themselves from each other, regardless of their enemy status, and soon they must decide whether or not a hunter really can love a werewolf w ithout it jeopardizing both of their lives.
Genre:
Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal,
Vampires/Werewolves
Length:
23,624 words
THE HUNTER’S OMEGA MATE
DeWitt’s Pack 2
Marcy Jacks
EVERLASTING CLASSIC
MANLOVE
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove
THE HUNTER’S OMEGA MATE Copyright © 2012 by Marcy Jacks E-book ISBN: 978- 1-62241-515-1
First E-book Publication: October 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of
The Hunter’s Omega Mate
by Marcy Jacks from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Marcy Jacks’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect
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Amanda Hilton, Publisher
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THE HUNTER’S OMEGA
MATE
DeWitt’s Pack 2
MARCY JACKS
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Fuck ’em all.
Tristan repeated the words inside his head until it became the mantra he marched to as he walked away from his pack forever, bag slung over his shoulder and the sun on his neck.
He actually felt pretty good, considering the way his hands were shaking and stomach churning. He never thought he’d be driven to leave his pack, his family, before, but there was no way in hell he was going to be part of that prick’s harem just to settle some old rivalries. Deacon could get hit by a bus for all Tristan cared, and the stupid land he and James were constantly fighting for could burn, and Tristan wouldn’t shed a tear.
Okay, maybe he was a little pissed off. He didn’t want to be an abandoner, but if the choice was between leaving his pack and becoming one of Deacon’s man whores or just leaving the pack, well, Tristan didn’t have to think too long on which he would prefer.
Tristan knew James, his alpha—or well,
former
alpha at this point—would never ask him to go, but the attacks had been getting worse, more desperate and violent, and every time someone got hurt, Tristan could practically see the wheels turning in James’s head,
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Marcy Jacks
wondering if keeping one omega safe was worth the broken bones and spilled blood from the rest of his pack.
So Tristan packed up and left an hour before dawn, officially taking the burden from James’s shoulders, and now he was free like the wind. He walked along the water’s edge of the river, kicking rocks away with his orange flip-flops. If James or someone else from his pack decided to come looking for him, they would expect him to walk along the water to keep his scent out of the air. Tristan didn’t mind that so much. It was being found by a member of Deacon’s pack that he was worried about. They wouldn’t know he’d left, but Tristan didn’t want his scent floating around just in case one of those flearidden goons happened to be in the area.
A wandering omega was pretty much open season for any werewolf to claim if they wanted, and Tristan would prefer to avoid that until he came upon some human civilization. He’d go a few towns over, make some money doing a couple of odd jobs, and maybe find a place to live with the humans.
At least it was a beautiful day.
* * * *
Fuck ’em all, Isaac Foster thought as he spotted his rifle, sitting innocently enough on top of two crossed tree branches, which stretched out dangerously over the running water.
It was like a skeletal hand that held what he wanted but was
playing a cruel game of keep-away with him.
Isaac and the others were here to hunt wolves, not dick around
with each other.
The water was calm enough, but it was dark, suggesting how deep it really was, and the way it sounded as it moved on by suggested how powerful that current really was.
Isaac should have never told those idiot motherfuckers that he was
afraid of the water.
The Hunter’s Omega Mate
9
There was a cackle of laughter behind him and an overly loud
hoot.
It was like dealing with a bunch of goddamn frat boys. He was the new guy in their group with the least amount of experience, brought in mostly for the sake of adding numbers and strength to their mission. Just for that, he was the one who had to deal with this shit
the most, handling these stupid pranks until he proved himself.
“If that falls in the water one of you idiots are replacing it!”
More laughter in the distance. The guys were all content to sit around their breakfast fire, pretending no one had a hand in Isaac’s predicament, all the while listening closely for the sounds of his enraged cursing.
Fucking frat boys. Isaac was actually the youngest out of the lot of them.
He took off his holster that held his handgun and got to work on climbing the gray-looking tree, trying not to think too hard about whether it could actually even hold his weight. One of those other idiots had gotten it up there and come back down safe enough, after all.
Isaac had no problem with heights, so making it to the heavy branch that stretched out long and far, holding his rifle, was not a problem.
The world only began to spin once he started to crawl along the branch, and he found himself looking down at the deep, dark, black-blue running water beneath him. His palms began to sweat, and he had to lay his body flat against the branch he held, holding his arms tight around it, even though the rough bark scratched at his skin and face.
Christ almighty.
There was a long shout from the campfire several yards away.
“Need someone to come and help you?”
Would have been a nice offer if the tone hadn’t been so mocking.
“Fuck off!” Isaac yelled back. Then he told himself to stop being
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Marcy Jacks
