“They’re not. You didn’t. Thank you.” She reached out and hugged him, not wanting to tell him that, at this moment, that was all she had of them.
Chapter 12
Cain dreamed of Angus almost nightly. Sometimes they were sex dreams, but most often it was his wolf stumbling on the battered, broken FBI agent, too late to do anything but mourn him. When he woke, his stomach knotted and he wondered what the thin line was between dreaming and prophesying.
Yeah, he much preferred the sex dreams. Because in those, no one was bloody or broken . . . well, maybe Angus was a little bloody from Cain’s teeth, but he enjoyed it.
Did Angus need him? He hadn’t changed his number but the man hadn’t called him at all.
“You were tossing around so much you shook the damned floor,” Cyd complained now. “I don’t want to be inside those dreams anymore.”
The twin thing assured that, more often than not, Cyd would feel whatever Cain did when he was in distress. And since Cyd knew all about the Angus situation, he knew who his twin was having those feelings about.
There was far more judgment that Cain felt that way about a human than the fact that it was another man. “I’d think you were too busy with your own floor shaking to worry about mine,” Cain said dryly and his twin laughed as he headed into the shower. Cyd’s back was covered in scratches, which would match the screaming werechicks who’d ended up in Cyd’s bed last night.
“Hey, I offered you one,” Cyd reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah.” Cain lay back on the pillows, covering his eyes with his hand. It was dark out, but too damned light in the room since Cyd turned on all of the lights to wake Cain up. His cock was half hard, because this particular dream had them finishing what they’d started the night he’d saved Angus’s life.
He’d pressed Angus up against the sink—the fed was holding on and they were both staring into the mirror, his cock inside Angus’s hot, tight—
“Better get moving—you’re babysitting today,” Cyd called out from the shower, breaking the mood for the umpteenth time. Cain sighed and tossed the covers off.
“Don’t let Rogue hear you call it that,” he said darkly. The Dires had been staying with Rogue around the clock. According to Liam, who’d heard it from Vice, every time Rogue tried to sleep, he’d wake up screaming.
Cain could only imagine the literal hell he’d been through.
Speaking of dreams, he wondered if Rifter was wandering around in his mind too. He hadn’t exactly caught sight of the shaggy gray Dire but, then again, he really wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Angus.
He guessed love really did make you goddamned stupid.
Rogue had stayed up all night and all the next day, because fuck sleep. He’d had enough to last him a lifetime. Stray and Killian hung out with him, and then Vice came back and they smoked some hand rolls, because at that moment, Vice seemed more fucked-up than he was.
He’d heard the wolves talking in low tones about Liam’s big fight. The twins’ involvement. And then there were the visits to his room—the just-checking-on-you glances, the let-me-know-if-you-need-anything looks.
He was drowning.
It was after midnight by the time everyone cleared the fuck out for their runs and Rogue was alone. Semi- alone, since a much-subdued Cain trailed into the attic and he enlisted the young Were to help him burn the bed.
He wasn’t surprised by Cain’s quiet. Young Weres usually had enough energy to bounce off the walls no matter how hard they ran, but last night had been a battle. And even though they’d won, Rogue knew they’d lost something as well.
As they watched the giant bonfire roar in the middle of the yard, Cain said, “The female Dire escaped. She’s with Jinx now.”
“She didn’t look like much could hold her. If she could do that before a shift . . . well hell, from what I remember, the females were actually stronger than the males. Granted, I think it’s like that in every culture, although the males aren’t likely to admit that.”
Cain gave a soft snort but his eyes didn’t lose their sadness.
“You miss Jinx.”
“Don’t you?” Cain asked.
“I miss a lot of things,” Rogue admitted, ran a hand over his shaved head. It would take some getting used to for sure, but he liked the feeling of freedom. “Thanks for babysitting me.”
“That’s not what this is.”
But Rogue held out a hand to stop him. “Don’t bother. It’s okay. But I want to shift and run.”
Rifter had told Rogue to wait at least a couple more days before trying to shift. Cain didn’t seem all that worried about disobeying that order. Rogue supposed that, after the last couple of months, what he wanted to do was mild in comparison and as natural as breathing.
But hell, if he was going to shift, doing so with an omega around seemed like a good idea.
“Think you’re ready?”
“Brother Wolf’s singing. But he’s nervous.”
Cain put his hands on the bare skin of Rogue’s back, over the glyph. Rogue felt the warmth sink in until he was heated from head to toe.
The pup had gotten stronger since turning twenty-one. He was coming into his destiny.
Inside Rogue’s head, Brother began to howl. Without warning, Rogue shifted and although it seemed to take a little longer than normal, everything else appeared to have fallen into place. Brother shook his fur and howled. Cain walked around his big wolf as if checking to see if it was all systems go before stripping and shifting himself.
Brother watched the young Were’s pain, the way the scars on his back pulled during the transformation. Those scars had been put there purposely by a cruel packmaster, so Cain would always feel the pain of them during his shifts.
Cain always said it was a reminder of how lucky he was now that he’d escaped. The pup had a good attitude. And now, the wolf in front of him motioned with his head as if to say, you first. Rogue took him up on it and burst like a shot through the woods, his wolf humming as he picked up speed. The forest blurred as he ran, the scenting almost overwhelming, but welcomed. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to tolerate handing over the reins to Brother after what he’d been through, but Brother had suffered as much as he had. They both deserved this. Needed this. And with Cain on his six, they ran until they hit the lake.
It was still a little icy, because the nights remained cold, but his wolf walked in and splashed around in the freezing, clean water. Cain waited and watched, and Rogue swore he spotted some amusement in the lupine eyes.
Cain needed this as much as he did. And after several more minutes in the lake, he got out and shook. Prepared for another run when he scented humans. Cain obviously had too, and they moved toward a thicket of brush where they could camouflage and make sure there was no danger approaching.
Rogue’s hackles rose, but both wolves remained still as night as the humans passed them with weapons readied as if searching for someone. Or something.
Hunters.
Hunters were like Switzerland. They were equal opportunity, believing live and let live. They policed humans and shifters alike. They lived above human and shifter law, hated by trappers and rogue wolves, tolerated by most Weres and other shifters. Most humans didn’t know who or what hunters were, as they were also still in the dark about the existence of the supernatural world.
