“Am I a werewolf?”
The question made everything inside of Morgan freeze up. Jesus Christ, it was worse than he thought.
It was Morgan’s turn to swallow nervously. “I haven’t seen your wolf form, but the fact that you were outside, naked, and are healing so rapidly now could only mean that you are. I can kind of sense it in you. You would be an omega, though sometimes you don’t act like it.”
“Is that bad?” Terry’s voice seemed to be getting stronger as he
spoke more.
Morgan shook his head. “No. Not at all.”
Terry’s eyes clouded again. “I can smell you.”
“I can smell you, too.”
Morgan already had a pretty good idea of where this was going
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when Terry leaned into him, pressing their bodies and their lips together.
Terry’s hand slid around his back, the other coming up and gripping the spot where his shoulder met his neck, and he entwined their legs together for as much closeness as possible.
Morgan’s cock instantly filled and swelled, and when Terry humped against him, he could feel the other man’s desperate erection as well.
Terry was much more animal about it. He made little pleasured noises as he rubbed their dicks together, completely ignoring the fact that they’d just met.
Then there was the fact that Morgan wasn’t sure how old the guy was. From the finger signals Terry had given him earlier, he was going to guess it was about twenty-three, but he was on his way to hell if he had sex with this omega in the state he was in without finding out for sure.
Terry had just reached down to grip at Morgan’s ass when Morgan was finally able to force himself to grab Terry’s hands and pull them away from him.
Terry made a sound of protest when Morgan untangled them and sat up. He had to rub his face and his lips with his hands just to erase the feeling of being kissed so passionately by a complete stranger. Morgan’s cock did not go down, however. It didn’t matter how many dead puppies he thought of, even becoming desperate enough to imagine the wise woman of his pack, Old Maggie, in a bikini, nothing would make his body cooperate.
The need to stake his claim on his mate was there, and now it was
as strong as ever. His body shook with the effort it took to resist, and fuck, it was already starting to pain him.
He doubted he’d be able to go to the end of the day before he caved and bent Terry over something and fucked him hard. He wanted to do it, right now. The fact that Terry was still reaching out for him with that disappointed look on his face didn’t help anything.
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All Morgan could do was look down at him and imagine how good it would feel when he slid his cock into that parted mouth, how Terry would moan in delight when he tightened his lips around the shaft.
Morgan got to his feet. If he could only wait until the end of the night, then so be it. At least he would be able to get Terry cleaned up and put some more food into him, and then maybe find out a little more about where the omega came from, before that time came.
“No, stay,” Terry begged, sitting up and grabbing Morgan’s hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Morgan replied, helping Terry to his feet and moving him to the bathroom. “You need to clean up again.”
“You’ll come in the water with me?” Terry asked, his voice suggesting just how much he still feared the idea of being in the
water.
“I won’t give you a bath again. You can have a shower this time.”
Terry shivered, his arms reaching around Morgan’s waist, holding him close. “I still want you with me. I feel safe with you.”
He had to think about that for a few seconds. Well…
“Okay, but I won’t be claiming you, yet.”
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Chapter Five
Tatum threw another log onto the fire he’d built, and he stared into the bright orange flames as they crackled and burned. He laced his fingers together to rest his chin on them, and he couldn’t stop scowling.
That old fucker who’d hired him, Tom, the previous hunter to be in command, was long since dead. He’d warned Tatum and his boys that there was a reason why hunters as of late had been avoiding this spot.
Not enough were coming back alive.
Hunters were a breed who searched out and destroyed their paranormal prey in small groups of three or five. Anything bigger than that made travel difficult, and anything smaller was stupid.
Tatum had gotten enough hunters on his last planned attack that he should have been able to wipe out every werewolf they came across. He’d had at least ten men, all of whom were now dead, including Tatum’s friends, the men he’d hunted with since figuring out this shit was real when he turned sixteen.
They’d killed enough werewolves to last for the winter, however, and with the others dead, that left fewer people for Tatum to share the profits with.
There were people out there willing to pay huge amounts of money to get their hands on a real werewolf pelt. It was hard to tell the difference between a normal wolf and a werewolf, other than the size of the fur itself, but Tatum had sold all the furs he’d gotten from his last kill with the exception of one.
It was his trophy to wear, to show off to other hunters that he was
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the real fucking deal, and he could take out a number of werewolves
and survive, even when shit went south.
As for the rest, he’d sold them for a good price, replaced the weapons he’d lost in the battle, and was now just biding his time.
He didn’t have nearly enough supplies for a full-blown attack once more, but he would at the end of the winter. The fact that he’d
all but destroyed that one pack, sending its alpha into hiding, had made it back to all the main hangouts where hunters were known to frequent. Despite his losses, he was seen as something of a war hero.
That one made him grin. A war hero at twenty-five. He liked that.
The families of the dead hunters were grieving, and since winter was a hard time for hunting, they were going to wait until the spring before they decided to join him.
He would have backup, and he would take out that other pack. Tatum had hated that old man’s guts. Tom had always been bossing him around the second Tatum and his boys had arrived on the scene, but he was still one of them, and Tatum was going to make sure that he was avenged.
If Tatum happened to enjoy the hunt itself, the look in the eyes of those wolves right as the life left them, well, that was his own benefit.
He looked out the window of the shitty little abandoned cabin he’d holed up in for the winter. That love for the kill was the only reason he was still out here for the winter. There were going to be some stragglers to pick off after that one pack had been destroyed, and Tatum wanted to be there to make sure they all found a safe, warm place with him.
He got back to work cleaning his rifles and sharpening his knives.
* * * *
It had been the worst idea of Morgan’s life, getting into that shower with Terry. The omega wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Morgan’s cock wouldn’t take no for an answer either.
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He had to remind himself that Terry was a wild werewolf. How that had come about, Morgan didn’t know, but Terry was much more open to the idea of being claimed by his mate just because of it. More than once Morgan had to prevent Terry from sliding to his knees in front of him and to keep the smaller man from kissing him.
It was hard because Terry didn’t want to touch the soap bar, leaving Morgan to lather up the younger man himself. Terry had seemed to take that as an open invitation and was constantly trying to puff out his chest so that Morgan would touch his nipples.
Morgan was not hungry anymore. Not for food, at least. He figured he could do without and give Terry the second bowl of soup still waiting for them in the bedroom.
Thankfully, when he reminded the other man about it, Terry forgot all about being horny and bounded over to the bowl.
Morgan watched him scarf down the soup with the same vigor as before. Only this time, he didn’t look up at Morgan with distrust, and he managed to eat without getting any on him.
At least until he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Morgan grabbed a washcloth and cleaned it away.
It made him wonder, would Terry always be like this? This childlike, innocent being that trusted him so wholeheartedly simply because Morgan fed him?
Or would that wildness eventually seep out of him once he had more contact with other werewolves like Nick or Corey, or even the other new werewolves who’d come to be part of DeWitt’s pack.
Not only had James taken in the survivors from Phillip’s pack, but other nearly wild werewolves had come to him as well. They were mostly okay and not nearly as far gone as Terry appeared to be. Was that because they had escaped the alphas who were dragging them around? Most of those werewolves had been omegas with the exception of Cole and Trevor.
Did Terry somehow get separated from them?
Terry was giving him that look again, and Morgan barely noticed
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it as he washed the younger man’s hands. He didn’t notice it until it was too late, and Terry’s mouth was on Morgan’s.
His dick hadn’t stopped throbbing since before they’d gone into the shower together. The need to claim his mate was too much, and his body started to shiver and shake like it had done before.
The hot, electric sensation jolted through his entire body when Terry reached his hand down and wrapped those warm fingers around Morgan’s prick.
He moaned into Terry’s mouth.
That was it. There was no turning back, and he no longer wanted to stop himself. Morgan grabbed Terry under his armpits and practically threw him on top of the bed. He climbed onto the other man. Terry’s eyes had turned gold, and he stared at Morgan with undisguised lust on his face.
No one had ever looked at him like that before.
When Terry’s hands started to massaged Morgan’s shoulders and chest, his fingers brushing against Morgan’s nipples until they hardened under his touch, Morgan decided to act now before it was too late and he completely lost it.
He grabbed Terry’s hands and pinned them by the wrists above his head. Terry’s eyes widened as he looked up and saw just why he couldn’t move. “No…”
“How old are you?”
Terry blinked at him. “What?”
Morgan leaned in until their noses were practically touching. “You used your fingers before, but I need you to say it. How old are you?”
Terry squeezed his eyes shut, and for a split second Morgan worried that perhaps he was hurting the smaller man.
Then he looked up and noted the way Terry’s fingers had gone again. Terry looked at them, too, squinting his eyes to see them right.
One hand with two fingers up, and the other with three.
“Two, three,” he said.
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“Twenty-three?” Morgan clarified.
“I…Yes. Twenty-three. I am twenty-three,” he said with
conviction in his voice.
More than old enough, though he was still so damn young.
Still, the knowledge that he wasn’t pinning down a minor and pressing his cock into his hip was freeing, and this time, Morgan was the one to initiate their kiss.
He released Terry’s hands, allowing the omega to do what he wanted with them. The first thing he did was stick them in Morgan’s hair and grip as tightly as he could.
It hurt, but he liked it. It was a good kind of pain. Despite how much the pain seemed to heighten the pleasure, Terry’s kisses became biting and soon let Morgan know that he should be taking command of the situation a little better than he was.
He thrust against the other man, grinding their cocks together. Terry was not quiet as he voiced his pleasure. He threw his head back and moaned out loud.
Terry’s legs spread and came around Morgan’s hips, locking together at the ankles, and he was thrusting against Morgan’s cock with all the grace of a virgin.
Morgan was torn between whether or not he wanted that to be a reality.
“Fuck me. Want you to claim me,” Terry said, reaching his hand down to stroke his dick.
Morgan couldn’t allow him to get off before he was inside of him, so he quickly grabbed hold of Terry’s hand and thrust it above his head again.
“Not until I say,” Morgan said with a growl.
“Fuck me!” Terry demanded.
He was so impatient. Clearly they couldn’t draw this out as much as Morgan would have preferred, but that was all right. He wanted nothing better than to be inside that tight ass as quickly as possible.