“For now we can all go hunting in the woods, set our traps, and see if we can’t track anything with abnormally big wolf paws.”
Alan nodded, and so did Billy, his attention at a hundred percent now that the talk of hunting was underway, and the three of them set out to their truck and trailer, driving out to find an ideal place to set up their camp.
* * * *
Mason ran himself nearly to exhaustion and was almost halfway across the state by the time he decided to turn back.
He was tired, thirsty, and his paws were killing him. The sun was nearly down by the time he got back to Brampton. He was able to catch a deer while he was out running, so he at least didn’t have to worry about buying any food when he changed back into a human.
He was still walking, limping was more like it, thinking he would get a quick drink from the river when his paw stepped down on something cold, metal, and flat. The click alerted him that something was wrong, and he jumped out of the way just as a pair of huge, rusted metal teeth sprung and clamped together.
Mason’s heart hammered like he hadn’t stopped running. A bear
Mason Returns to His Mate 23
trap? Jesus Christ! He almost got caught in a frickin’ bear trap!
Mason approached cautiously, sniffing the metal, and was surprised at the fresh scent of human hands that had handled it.
Had bear-hunting season been moved? Last he checked, it wasn’t for another couple of weeks.
Then, of course, the last time he checked was just over ten years
ago.
It was the sight of the rust on the trap that made him nervous. Whoever it was who set this up, they weren’t much interested in keeping their gear in good condition.
That was usually because the hunters didn’t care about keeping the traps clean so long as they bagged a werewolf.
Mason stepped back, slowly. Canada had its share of hunters, but because of gun restrictions and their wildlife protection act, it was harder for a hunter to go after them.
It was because of this that he hadn’t so much as caught any whiff
of hunters in all the time he’d been away.
Barely an hour back into town and he nearly stepped in a trap. He was so hopeless.
A twig snapped somewhere behind him, and he froze. The scent of oil came into his nose, and then his heart rate spiked.
Not a twig. Someone had just pulled back the hammer on a gun.
Mason ran for it, leaping and dodging just as the first bang of gunfire pierced the air.
Judging by the explosion of the shrub he’d nearly ran past, they were using shotguns. Fuck, he couldn’t just zigzag his way out of here. He was going to have to avoid some pretty big shots if he was going to get out of this unscathed.
A loud whoop in the air sounded as another shot fired, and this time he hadn’t been able to get completely out of the way on time.
The fur on his chest took most of the hit, but some of the shotgun pellets still pierced his skin, especially on his left paw.
Mason yelped and stumbled. Fuck! He couldn’t die here. Not until
24 Marcy Jacks
he got to see James, and not until he told Derek he was sorry for what
he’d done.
Even with his paw screaming at him, Mason put a hundred percent into getting the hell out of there.
The hunters screamed and whooped again―were they fucking children or something?―as they gave chase. Mason was tired and injured now, but there was no way these hunters could catch him on foot. He was too fast, even by werewolf standards.
More shots sounded from behind him as the hunters soon realized
this, too. Thankfully, nothing hit him this time as the trees he ducked and dodged behind took the brunt of the attacks. He was back at his truck in less than five minutes.
He transformed and did a quick check on himself. His chest was bleeding and his arm was dotted with pellets. Thank God the shells hadn’t been filled with silver. Otherwise he’d be in a lot more trouble
than this.
Mason took a quick couple of seconds to check on the truck. The hunters must not have come by it because nothing was tampered with that he could see. He also didn’t smell the strong scent of human or guns in the air.
Right. That was enough on the status check. Mason jumped into the driver’s side, pulled out his keys, and started the ignition.
The sun was almost completely set now, leaving long stretches of orange color and shadows from the trees across the road.
It was going to be really awkward meeting his brother after all this time, naked and bleeding.
He just hoped there was some extra alcohol and bandages for him to use and someone willing to pull the fucking pellets out of his sorry skin.
Mason Returns to His Mate 25
Chapter Three
It was weird, turning onto the unpaved road and driving way on past the No Trespassing signs that were still nailed to the same trees he’d thought he’d forgotten and then still going on another five minutes until the wall of tall pines and oak trees cramping in on either side of the road opened up to reveal a huge clearing with manycabins.
The pups were still chasing each other around, and the omegas looked like they were carrying laundry baskets or the small game they’d hunted.
It wasn’t uncommon for an old truck to come driving onto the property, so no one looked twice at it until he slowed down and came just a little bit closer, and the people who were outside noticed that the man driving was not someone they recognized.
Mason didn’t recognize all of them either. That was to be expected. New alphas and omegas would have come.
