Strength of the Pack (16 page)

“You were advised correctly, sir,” Noah agreed readily. “It takes a lot of energy to call the Pack, and I know I dumped a lot of emotional shit on you during the whole thing. Eventually, I’ll learn to control that.”

“If it helps you, I’m fine with it.” Lucas couldn’t suppress his chuckle. “I think it’s a more appropriate form of assistance than breast feeding.”

Noah’s grin was feral. “But not nearly as much fun. Sleep well, Lucas.” He leaned in briefly and inhaled against Lucas’ temple, before turning toward his own Humvee.

Lucas’ blood ran hot in his veins. He blew out a shaky breath.

He found Vince in the driver’s seat of the Humvee, radio handset cradled on his shoulder as he monitored comms.

“I’m turning in,” Lucas said. “Wake me in four hours or if anything at all happens.”

“Roger that, sir,” Vince replied with a kind smile.

It wasn’t until Lucas was in his Ranger grave that he realized he was, indeed, exhausted. He cocooned himself in his bedroll, hoping to keep out the bone-chilling Afghan air.

He closed his eyes, and immediately the image of Noah’s face floated across the backs of his lids. His heart raced, and Lucas knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep feeling like this. His annoyance with his traitorous body grew as his cock began to harden.

With resignation, he quietly retrieved a baby wipe from the tub stashed among his gear. His dick was insistent and wasn’t going to be ignored.

Lucas’ mind flooded with images from earlier in the evening: Noah as a huge, arctic wolf; the beauty of his naked body; the look and feel of his straining erection; the sound and the scent of him as he came in Lucas’ hand.

His dick pressed hard against his utilities, and Lucas hastily tore open his fly. He squeezed himself hard, struggling for control. He stroked his cock roughly, realizing he was already close.

Lucas tried to clear his mind and make his jack quick and practical. It was insidious how thoughts of Noah assailed him. He finally surrendered to them, letting the remembered taste of Noah’s skin shove him over the precipice. Lucas came hard, biting down on his blanket to keep from shouting. His dick pulsed in his palm as it pumped endless amounts of come into the small cloth.

As his climax released its hold on him, Lucas became aware of a sense of triumph and smug satisfaction.

Noah.

Apparently, he’d found a way to help Lucas with his hard-on after all.

U.S. Marine Corps Combat Post Toscano
Ghowr Province, Afghanistan

Lucas was amazed at how quickly the landscape and the weather changed as the battalion drew closer to its destination. Dark, rolling hillocks gave way to jagged hillsides. A layer of snow covered everything around them as the line of Humvees snaked its way up the winding road.

They had all brought out their Under Armour fleece shirts and olive-green watch caps. Everyone wore their gloves now, even during the day. Despite the biting cold, Lucas thought their surroundings had a raw, savage kind of beauty.

Along the longer, flat stretches of land, families managed to grow stunted, anemic crops. Between the arid land and the elevation, little grew, and what did rarely thrived. Lucky farmers with a source of irrigation were obvious with their verdant, green fields. As the long line of trucks and Humvees passed by, families paused in their labors to watch passively.

Lucas longed to stop the Humvee and climb out and just run. As they reached higher elevation, he looked out over the white hillsides and wanted nothing more than to run out over them, for miles and miles. He smiled to himself when he realized those were Noah’s feelings.

Lucas wondered if he could influence how this thing worked. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He pictured a hot summer day, the beach, stretching out in a lounge chair and cradling a cold bottle of beer.

Humor rolled through him, suffusing him with warmth. It was chased by a strong wave of pride. Lucas bit his lower lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. He gasped when a sense of lust crashed over him. Images of Noah’s and his bodies pressed together flashed through his mind.

They were memories of actual events, all from Noah’s point of view. Lucas had never considered himself dark-complexioned, but in contrast with Noah’s pale hair and light eyes, that’s how he appeared. He’d always thought the light brown of his hair and hazel shade of his eyes were bland and dull. In Noah’s mind, Lucas glowed with a warm light.

Before Lucas could catch his breath, Noah’s memories faded, only to be replaced with graphic, intimate pictures: the two of them naked, entwined, Noah on top of Lucas, fucking into him. Lucas’ cock was hard in an instant, pressing painfully against his skivvies. He swallowed down a moan and shifted in his seat, seeking relief.

“Everything okay, sir?” Vince asked, concern obvious.

His voice snapped Lucas back to reality. The images faded, and the feelings of desire and lust died away.

“I’m fine,” he answered quickly. “Just ready to be at our destination. These Humvees aren’t the most comfortable.”

Lucas’ wish was granted later that afternoon. The large, heavy gate of Combat Post Toscano was rolled open by several Marines. The battalion halted in the central courtyard, filling it full of Humvees and gun trucks.

Climbing out of his victor, Lucas looked around with an assessing eye. The compound was surrounded by ten-foot tall, mud-brick walls. Guard huts had been fashioned from wood and cammie nets in all four corners. There were three mud and wood structures along the eastern wall. Newer wooden structures, obviously erected by Marines, lined the southern wall. Dozens of vehicles were parked in precise columns all through the courtyard.

Lucas and the rest of Fox Company would be responsible for the security and protection of this CP for the next twelve months. He had no intention of relying solely on the briefing from the outgoing Marines or on Stanley’s strategic planning. Lucas would utilize his own skill and judgment.

“Orders, sir?” Noah asked.

Lucas hadn’t heard his approach. He didn’t think about the graphic images they’d exchanged earlier. “Have Sergeant Fowler oversee the unpacking of the victors. The platoon should stick close; I’m sure there will be orders to carry out very shortly.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Noah replied. “And what do you want from me?”

Lucas was relatively certain Noah’s choice of words was deliberately suggestive. “You, Shiva, are going to accompany Kali to the briefing.”

The corner of Noah’s mouth slowly curved upward. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Lucas sat, sandwiched between Noah and Vince. He was impressed with the organized precision of the briefing conducted by the outgoing company. Accommodations were going to be tight for a few days during the hand over, but they would all make do. He was just happy to learn that once they were on their own, he only had to share his sleeping quarters with two other officers. Unfortunately, one of those officers was Captain Stanley.

The officers and lead NCOs for both incoming and outgoing companies attended the meeting. All the platoon commanders, their Gunnies, and their team leaders were packed into a small, windowless room. The outgoing company commander led the briefing and, to Lucas’ relief, was quick and concise with the information. Finally, he asked if there were any questions. Lucas clenched his jaw when Stanley raised his hand.

“Which of the vendors makes the best flat bread?” he asked.

A heavy silence fell on the room. Lucas could sense horrified humor coming from Noah and he slammed down a wall on that sensation. This was a security briefing. They were handling a transfer of power and command. “That isn’t information we prepared for this meeting.” The current company commander answered slowly and carefully. Lucas could tell he was trying to determine if the question was a joke.

“Sir,” Lucas raised his hand. “Are you able to identify any Marines who have cultivated individual relationships with villagers that we might be able to exploit?”

“I believe one of our platoon sergeants has made some contacts,” the captain replied. “Get with Lieutenant Somerset.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lucas made a note of the name.

The briefing ended soon after, and Lucas made a beeline back for his Humvee, Noah and Vince right on his six.

“We are so fucked,” Noah said with a mirthless laugh.

“Sergeant Hammond,” Vince said sharply. “Lieutenant Young needs your support right now.”

That sobered Noah. “Yes, Gunny.”

The trouble was, Lucas shared Noah’s assessment.

“Our current mission is to gather as much intel from the outgoing company as possible,” Lucas ordered. “The briefing was thorough, but I want as many advantages as we can get, given what type of command we have to deal with.”

“Roger that,” Vince said dryly.

“Sergeant Hammond, I know you need to meet with the outgoing pack leader,” said Lucas. “Let me know, ASAP, what the plan for the full moon is.”

“Yes, sir,” Noah replied. “I’ll gather what unofficial intel I can while I’m at it.”

Lucas was relieved that he and Noah were already on the same page.

The following three days were excruciating for Lucas. He was thankful that his fellow platoon commander, Fox-three, was equally conscious of safety and security. Lucas hoped that together, they could neutralize Stanley’s chaotic orders and actions.

On day four, the outgoing company climbed into their heavily laden victors and left Combat Post Toscano. Lucas had two more days before the remainder of the battalion rolled out, leaving Fox Company all alone in their CP.

It was time for the daily patrol into the adjoining village. Once they were alone, smaller teams would conduct the patrol, but for now, Lucas took his entire platoon. Yes, it was a show of force, but it also gave the villagers—and Taliban sympathizers—the opportunity to become familiar with Lucas and his Marines.

The market was small and simple like the rest of the village. It was nothing more than an open courtyard surrounded by mud-brick walls. The more prosperous vendors had space inside rooms and alcoves of buildings at the far end of the courtyard. The rest crowded themselves around the edges with their carts and rickety tables.

Lucas pushed his way through the crowded marketplace. Bodies were packed tight in the small spaces, shifting and writhing as they aggressively conducted business. All around him, merchants and customers haggled. The volume was deafening. The smell was equally intense. The odors of unwashed bodies and small livestock could not be masked entirely by the scents of spices, oils and cooking food.

The villagers pretended to not be aware of the Marines, but Lucas repeatedly intercepted or observed surreptitious glances. He adjusted his battle sling and tugged at his armor. He still wasn’t used to the feel of it over his fleece shirt. Lucas was thankful for the warmth the fleece provided in addition to the comfort. He didn’t go anywhere without gloves on his hands and LPCs on his feet. It was always so fucking cold here. Lucas was never warm anymore, even curled up in his bedroll. On the coldest of nights, he fervently wished he had someone’s body heat to share.

Over the previous four days, Noah had never been far from Lucas’ side. Currently he walked just behind Lucas’ right shoulder. Noah’s tension was palpable. He masked it well, better than the other werewolves, but Lucas knew he was feeling the effects of the imminent full moon.

A commotion rose up from a vendor stall across the courtyard. Lucas and Noah both turned toward the sound. Noah pushed his way through the throng of villagers; Lucas followed in his wake, closely watching their six. Noah was bleeding concern and worry, which Lucas preferred over anger and aggression.

“Sergeant?” Lucas demanded.

“Some sort of altercation, sir,” Noah replied sharply. “Looks like Corporal Chandler is involved.”

“Dammit!” Lucas exclaimed. He couldn’t make it any more clear to his men they needed to keep their tempers in check.

“It might not be what you think, Lieutenant,” Noah shouted. The need to protect became the ruling emotion in that moment.

They reached the hostile crowd, and Lucas heard Corporal Chandler shouting angrily.

“Corporal Chandler,” Noah snapped, his voice low and harsh.

Lucas wanted to look but right now, his job was to watch the crowd milling at Noah’s back.

“They smell weird,” Chandler barked. “And they won’t back the fuck off.”

“Stand down, Corporal.” Noah’s voice dropped even further in pitch. It sounded like he was growling.

“Sergeant Hammond,” Lucas called. He tightened his grip on his weapon, preparing to act.

“I’ve got this, LT.” Noah’s tone sounded closer to normal, even as anger wove its way into his emotions.

“Make sure you don’t escalate it,” Lucas cautioned.

“Put your fucking claws away, Chandler!” Noah roared, startling Lucas. “Don’t you
ever
wield a weapon in my presence unless I order you to do so.”