Sugar-Free Beta (3 page)

An unexpected and painful pang speared through him at that thought. Did
he really want to run again? Jack was sick of staying at cheap motels in
nameless towns and inventing new names. He was just so tired of running. Some
part of him just wanted to tuck his tail between his legs, roll on his belly
and beg his former lover for forgiveness. He had a permanent roof on his head
at least.

Giving up already, Jack? How expected.
Jack gritted his teeth at that voice. How could
he forget the hazy and drugged filled nights, or the mornings he’d woken up
tied to some stranger’s bed?

To Nicky, he was nothing but tamed and collared property. How many
random cocks had he been forced to suck? How many cocks had pounded mercilessly
into his ass and mouth while Nicky watched on coldly? Jack had wanted to wipe
that arrogant expression on his face, but each attempt only led to endless
beatings. No. He didn’t run because he wanted to; he ran because he needed to.

Stuffing his gloveless hands into the pockets of his coat, Jack
furtively glanced about the crossing. There were a few people about the
streets, but not a lot. There were couples and families off to catch a late
night matinee at The Lotus, or folks up for a night of drink and sports at the
local bar.

Damn, but he was envious of them. They just seemed so oblivious, so
carefree… What would it be like to
stroll
the quiet
streets of New Haven with someone special by his side? For some unexplainable
reason, he thought of the large bearded guy in the leather jacket. Jack could
imagine him bringing him close to him under that jacket to share his warmth.
Perhaps Jack purposely wore a light jacket just for that purpose. The large
guy’s face would crinkle into a smile, and he’d ruffle Jack’s hair—

Why the hell am I thinking of some random
stranger? Hell, he might even be one of the enforcers of the New Haven pack.
He’s certainly large and dangerous looking enough
. All Jack could think
of
,
though, was how he wished he’d gotten the guy’s name.
 

Jack’s thoughts scattered when his nose caught a peculiar whiff while he
was crossing the street to the park. He’d decided that cutting across the park
to get to his motel would give him a good extra ten minutes at least. An extra
ten minutes to look at the town he could imagine staying permanently in.

Jack scrunched his nose and sniffed again. The problem with masking his
wolf scent and pretending to be human was that he was also as vulnerable as any
human being packaged with muted senses and slow reflexes.

It’s just the wind changing direction.
You’ve
covered your tracks. You should have a few days’ head start at least.
Still,
Jack kept glancing suspiciously behind him every now and then. Once or twice he
even jumped at movement, but it was only the shadow of misshapen trees cast by
the lampposts.

These lampposts are too far apart from each
other, in my damn opinion. Someone ought to tell the New Haven town council to
do something about that.
That
wouldn’t be him though. He would be long gone come morning. The pang in his
heart worsened at that logical thought.
Just
great, Jack. Being sentimental again?
 

That was enough second-guessing on his part though or he’d miss his bus.
Jack decided to quicken his pace, relieved that the exit to the street was just
ahead.

“No harm being paranoid,” he whispered, pulling his scarf about him.

His nose twitched again. “Stop it,” he whispered.

No harm looking back just one last time to make sure. Breathing hard,
Jack craned his head and only saw the rustling trees. It was just the autumn
wind. He let out a breath. This was ridiculous. He was far too paranoid for his
own good. Far too experienced in running that—

Jack didn’t manage to complete that thought. Right then, yellow eyes
stared back at him from the bushes, and before he could react, a blurry mass of
black fur, claws and jaws leapt at him.

****

With two full bags of hard-earned gluten-free
and sugar-free snacks cradled in both his thick arms, Derrick was all set for a
lonely Friday night. He wasn’t proud of what he had to do to get those snacks.
Derrick had to shoulder and push his way through the small organic section of
Teddy’s Market to shove all the remaining sugar-free chocolates and low-carb
chips in his basket. It was every man for
himself
. If
he didn’t fight for his snacks, the nearest grocery with sugar-free goods was
two towns away.

He was all set for then. Not that this Friday
night was different from any other. Derrick had his share of lonely nights.
Nights spent biting his nails and decimating one bag of chocolate after
another, wondering where Jared was and who he was with. He’d always had a sweet
tooth and even craved sweets more than fresh meat, so it was practically the
sheer and cruel hand of fate that he was now a cursed diabetic.

While sugar-free goods were a poor replacement
for the real thing, at least he didn’t have to worry anymore about being barely
able to hang on to his mate. The Gamma had never truly belonged to him. If Derrick
were really a dominant wolf, he would have asserted his rights.

It wasn’t that he was a coward. Derrick had won
his share of fights to the death, and he could’ve easily swatted away like a
fly the buffed up buffoon Jared had run away with. He simply thought it was too
much work defending someone he’d known he’d never be able to keep. Besides, he
doubted he could handle Jared’s searing look of contempt as he helped up his
defeated lover.

Derrick emitted a heavy sigh. His apartment
just a few blocks
away,
and a quick short cut through
the nearby park would save him both time and avoid the occasional pitying
glances other humans gave him.
Just
another large and lonely guy out alone on a Friday night.

Just as he set foot on the gravel jogging path,
a bone-chilling animalistic howl pierced through the silent night. Derrick
didn’t feel the bags slipping from his arms. That howl couldn’t be mistaken for
anything else but werewolf. An untrained human ear would normally attribute
that sound to the wolves that occasionally prowled the mountains, but Derrick
knew otherwise. It was a special type of howl that reeked of human emotion, a
howl that sounded too much like victory.

If the nearby wolf had just taken triumphantly
taken down a prey, the best course of action was for Derrick to leave as
quietly and quickly as possible. The nearby wolf would most likely catch his
scent and assume that Derrick was encroaching on his kill and territory.

Furthermore, if the wolf belonged to the local
pack, then he would be in trouble. The local Alpha had, on more than one
occasion, hinted that he only tolerated Derrick because of his family name. One
wrong move and Derrick could be packing his bags. Then it would be back to
jumping from town to town, searching for a place where the local pack tolerated
lone wolves, and those places were rare.
 

Derrick was just about to grab his fallen
groceries and make a cowardly exit when a series of aggressive growls followed
after that howl. The sounds didn’t frighten him much, but it was the whimper
that kept him rooted to that spot.
 

It wasn’t just any whimper, but a decidedly
very human whimper.

The wolf inside of him stirred from its sleep.
Derrick’s human half and his beast half both sniffed at the air. Freshly drawn
blood and a mild, but familiar scent filled his nostrils.

They caught the smell of baked goods, of hands
that worked frequently with flour, butter, tea bags, and grounded coffee beans.
A scent that was attached to a caramel frosted cupcake Derrick had struggled
not to eat. A scent attached to face with a crown of shaggy brown hair and dark
nervous eyes.
The
barista.

A growl tore itself from his throat. Derrick
had always been conscious of taking off his clothes in public—another decidedly
un-
werewolfish
trait—but he was slipping off his
pants, shirt, and jacket before he knew it. Impatience took over though, and
fabric tore as the change took hold of him.

Furious.
He was
so furious that all he was seeing was red. How dare that random wolf hurt what
was
his.
Didn’t that intruder know
that that particular man belonged to him from the moment he touched his arm?
That nameless and kind stranger belonged to him simply because he had Derrick’s
scent. Whatever human inhabitations and reservations the human Derrick harbored
about running into reckless fights, the wolf cared for none of those things.

That
barista was no ordinary human, you fat fool. Just a scared wolf, but not just
any other scared wolf. He’s your mate. Our mate,
the wolf reminded him. Derrick groaned at his
stupidity, but only a rebellious snarl came out from his no-longer human mouth.
He violently shook off the pieces of cloth that was still sticking to his fur
in annoyance, using his paws to speed up the process.

The wolf inside him was right. It was always
right, but Derrick couldn’t just let it blindly have its way. Jumping
recklessly into a fight without assessing the situation wasn’t logical. Even if
Derrick was a sad excuse for a werewolf, he was still capable of retaining some
of his human side. His wolf reared its head angrily in defiance, its thoughts
nothing but primal, but Derrick reared it back to think.
 

The other wolf didn’t smell weak, but he didn’t
smell like the local pack either. He had to be careful. It was considered a
free hunt, a free kill even, but after making that brainless howl that
effectively and foolishly announced his presence, one of the local watch wolves
would come running to sniff out the disturbance in their territory.
 

Damn it all, it wasn’t just any free kill. It
was
his
kill. Derrick’s wolf decided
that the local pack’s interference was an insignificant matter he could deal
with when the time came. Remembering the nervous blue eyes of the barista, his
human half agreed with the wolf. He had a sneaking suspicion that the barista
was running away from something. Was he running from this intruder then?

If that was the case, then the little wolf
could’ve gone to Derrick for protection.
Foolish
little wolf.
Never mind that, Derrick would remind him later. For now, all
that mattered was getting back what was his and tearing that other encroaching
wolf to pieces.

****

Jack didn’t remember tasting gravel and soil.
All he remembered was trying to dart away from the massive jaws that lunged
thoughtlessly at him. It was a half-successful attempt at best. Jaws closed
ruthlessly on his left calf, forcing a scream out of him. Pain immediately
laced from his bloody leg and up his body.

An impressive jet-black wolf the size of a
small pony glared savage amber eyes at Jack. The size of a wolf was
proportionate to the size of their human halves, and Nicky was one hell of a
monster even for a werewolf. He was called The Black Scourge for a reason, and
very few could challenge him and win. Heck, the black and monstrous Alpha
delighted in tearing his opponents to pieces.

Nicky
doesn’t want to kill me yet. He wants to teach me a lesson.
The thought brought Jack a sliver of relief,
relief and a familiar sickening feeling of dread. Jack uncertainly tried to
drag his feet back despite the teeth that were hooked into his torn jeans and
skin.
Certain that Jack was going nowhere, the Alpha obliged
and let go of his leg.

Nicky snarled at him in warning though, amber
eyes feral and unforgiving.

Blood and saliva dribbled down the snout of the
dominant wolf Jack had been avoiding for months. Each snap and show of those
terrible teeth sent Jack reeling backwards, his terror only delighting the
other wolf.

How much of his former lover was still in
there?

Jack was no longer certain it was still Nicky
in there, but both the wolf and man shared a propensity for cruelty. The best
thing Jack could do was roll on his belly and bare his neck in submission. Jack
could only hope the Alpha wouldn’t immediately tear his throat out of blind
rage.

Jack began to reach out for his wolf to change.
He longer wanted to be in his fragile and vulnerable human skin. Even if he
stood no chance against Nicky in his man or wolf shape, he would feel safer in
his fur.

But the more Jack pulled at his beast, the more
it refused to merge with him. The wolf inside him shook its shaggy head,
refusing to change. It refused to submit to the abusive dominant wolf. It had
enough of constantly living in fear and in being pushed around. A wolf wasn’t a
dog, and even a Gamma wolf shouldn’t be treated like a domesticated animal.

Nicky’s amber eyes narrowed, and his teeth
snapped impatiently at Jack’s face. It was a warning, a warning that he would
do more than just nip at Jack the next time.

“Please, Nicky. Something is wrong with my wolf
… I can’t…” Jack winced. More saliva splattered on his face, and Nicky’s teeth
grazed at his cheeks.