[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Alternative Contemporary Paranormal Romance, MM, shape-shifter, werewolves, HEA]
Maxwell Lynch is an alpha. A monster. A man barely in control of the beast. He and the creature have a tentative agreement. He kills hunters, and the animal will let him have control.
Noah Perkins was always popular with shifters, creatures who could smell what he was and hoped to use his abilities, but Noah never had any interest. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, he's barely holding it together, until Maxwell appears.
An alpha wolf the size of a bear, he calls to everything Noah is. When Maxwell is injured rescuing him, instinct kicks in and Noah won't leave Maxwell's side until he is out of danger.
With the hunters still on the prowl, Noah and Maxwell have to put their fragile relationship on the back burner. Hunters don't like it when their prey escapes, and since they also have wolves working for them, Maxwell might have his work cut out for him defending his new mate.
Marcy Jacks is a Siren-exclusive author.
Every gunshot Maxwell heard made his gut clench. He heard screams that couldn't possibly belong to the hunters, or maybe they did, but something was wrong. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird's. Panic rushed through him. Maxwell couldn't figure out what his problem was because they were killing it in here. The hunters were on the run. None of his own men were shot as far as he could tell, and he'd managed to kill a couple of the bastards already.
He needed to end this. Needed to get some of those captured humans and omegas out of here so he could check on the rest of his men. Something was wrong. Something was eating away at his gut, and he didn't like it.
Maxwell growled low in his throat, claws digging into the cement flooring beneath him as he launched himself down the narrow hall, fluorescent lights above his head flickering.
This entire place was like a dying body. The skeleton of something sick he didn't want to be inside of anymore.
But there was still that smell. The smell of blood and something else. Collin yelled out for him, but Maxwell didn't turn back. He couldn't. He needed to stay. He needed to find what was making his stomach clench up like this.
He needed that scent. He couldn't rest without it.
Maxwell came across the thing that was bleeding. A man. A human, down on the floor, freshly killed, too.
His sleeve was rolled back, letting Maxwell get a look at the wolf skull with butterfly wings that signified he was a hunter.
He growled at the man, wishing he would get up so Maxwell could kill him again. He looked inside of the room and had a sniff.
Storage of some kind, but there were so many scents in here. Old scents, too. People had been held hostage, and he could make out the spicy-sweet scents of what they were.
The wolf souls. They were here, but again, there was one scent that stood out from the rest, one scent that was sweeter than all the others.
Maxwell left. He couldn't stay here when that smell was so close. So close. He could almost taste it. Just a little farther and he would be there!
Then he was there. Maxwell wasn't sure what he expected to find other than a group of men and women being terrorized by hunters, but it was what he did see, and for some reason, it shocked him.
Two hunters closing in on a group of wolf souls.
One of them had a nasty blade in hand, and the other reached for his back holster.
Maxwell lunged at them. They were so caught up in what they were doing that they didn't notice the oversized wolf stepping up behind them.
He chomped on the throat of one, destroying the dumb, balding bastard with one good bite. He was like the megalodon of all wolves, and these two idiots didn't stand a chance against him.
Of course, before he could kill the other just by jumping on him, the asshole did get a shot off on him.
Then Maxwell bit down on his arm, his hand falling away while Maxwell spat out his forearm and crunched hard on his face.
Ew, the blood was disgusting in his mouth. Hunter blood. It was like tasting iced tea that had been warmed by sitting out in the sun too long and piss.
He spat it away, but the clenching pain in his chest wasn't going anywhere. It still hurt. In fact, it hurt the more he moved, the more he breathed.
Had that asshole actually shot him?
Maxwell shifted back into his human shape. He needed all the fur out of the way so he could have a look for himself what was going on.
Fuck. Right there on his pec, just above his left nipple, bleeding freely and tormenting him.
And he was pretty sure he felt the sting of silver in that bullet, too.
Or it was in his head because then he was falling over. The floor came up to meet him, and shit, was he dying? What side was his heart on? He had to remember. The right side, right? No, left. It was the left, which, after looking down, was not where he’d been shot.
But this could still kill him.
At least that smell came closer. Wait, that smell.
Someone stood over him, someone kind of cute, a male.
Really? A male?
Maxwell smiled up at him, realizing what the smell was and where it was coming from, and he wanted to laugh. He did laugh, even though it hurt.
"Fuck, are you kidding me?"
This wolf soul, this scrawny guy, was Maxwell's?
Well, that was perfect because he was about to meet his mate right before he died.
The man knelt beside him, touching his face, his neck, and his shoulders, as if he couldn't quite help himself.
"Are you crying?"
The man shook his head. "No."
He was crying. He didn't even know Maxwell's name.
There was something sweet in that. Sweet about knowing there was a person out there who would care enough about Maxwell to cry over him even though he didn't know him.
Kind of sucked that Maxwell was only finding him now that he was going to die. He’d never wanted a mate. Never wanted a soul mate. Too much hassle, but now, at the end of his life, he didn’t think it would have been so bad.
Maxwell stood over the man for a moment. Part of him didn't want to wake the guy, but how could he not? Holy shit, this was real. Maxwell hadn’t thought he would ever end up with a mate. He was thirty-three, and it still hadn't happened. This guy was not only a mate, but thank fuck he was also a wolf soul. It was all over his scent. That nose-tingling smell of him gave it away.
If he hadn't been, then Maxwell would be dead.
Hell, if Maxwell had been shot somewhere else, somewhere this man wasn't, then he still might have died before meeting him.
And he wanted to know everything there was to know about this man. He wanted to learn everything there was about him, including what he liked in bed.
Maxwell put his hands on the thin mattress, kind of irritated that Collin or anyone else hadn't thought to put him in the same bed with Maxwell or at least get him an air mattress. Anything was better than sleeping on this damned thing.
The springs squeaked a little as Maxwell put his knee onto the bed.
He heard a throat clearing behind him, and Maxwell snapped his attention back.
It was Collin, his hand on the doorknob as he started to pull the door shut. "I think you want this closed, boss."
Maxwell growled at him until Collin was gone, and then he turned his attention back to the matter at hand.
Noah slept so peacefully. Even with the bags under his eyes, he was gorgeous.
And Maxwell wished with everything he had inside him that he'd been able to find that compound sooner, that he'd been able to save him sooner.
How many days had Noah spent in that hellhole before Maxwell was able to get him out?
He pressed his mouth to Noah's perfectly pink lips. His kiss was chaste, but it was still something beautiful. Noah's mouth was soft. He didn't look like he had much in the way of facial hair, but Maxwell could feel how rough it was around his mouth.
He had stubble. He'd either shaved since coming here, or he had trouble growing it out.
Whatever Noah had, Maxwell decided right then and there that it was perfect.
He pulled back from the kiss, and Maxwell was pleased beyond all reason to see those stormy eyes open and on him, watching him. They were a little cloudy, and not because of the blue-gray look to them. Noah could still be dreaming.
"Are you all right?"
Maxwell wanted to laugh. "I wake you up with a kiss and the first thing you ask is whether or not I'm all right?"
Clarity seemed to come into his eyes, and Noah tried to push himself up, but Maxwell held him down.
"Careful. I heard you were a little weak when you came here."
"You were shot." Noah's hands went immediately to Maxwell's chest. He touched Maxwell's tattoo, his bullet wound, or what was left of it.
He seemed to want to confirm as much as he could that Maxwell was not a ghost.
"You're alive. I thought you were going to die."
"I didn't." Maxwell kissed him again, climbing on top of him, the heat in his body something he couldn't get a grip on. "Because of you."
Noah gripped Maxwell's forearms tightly. He didn't seem to want to let go as he opened his mouth, mewling sweetly as Maxwell gently licked between his lips.
If this was not an invitation, then he didn't know what was.
Maxwell licked him deep. He wanted to fuck this man. He wanted to give Noah anything and everything he had.
He pulled away from the man's mouth again, hating that he needed to do it, his voice breathy as he barely managed to control himself. "What's your name? Your full name. Tell me everything about yourself."
Noah gasped for breath. Maxwell could feel the man's dick hardening beneath the sheets, and there were way too many layers between them as far as he was concerned.
"Noah Perkins. My name is Noah Perkins. I'm a waiter. I'm…ah God." Noah clenched his eyes shut, his head falling back as Maxwell reached down, putting his hand between them, rubbing against the man's prick, giving him some friction through the sheets.
And as Noah thrust hard against his hand and the sheets, Maxwell knew they were going to be in here for a long while.
"What else? Do you have any family? Do you do anything? Hobbies? Tell me everything."
Maxwell put enough space between their bodies so he could peel back the sheets. Noah was wearing a T-shirt and shorts that Maxwell was pretty sure he hadn't been wearing when they'd met.
It wasn't as though he'd managed to keep a proper eye on things when he was bleeding out on the floor, that was for damned sure.
And these smelled a little like someone else. Probably an omega inside the pack.
Maxwell growled at them, and if he wasn't worried about scaring his new mate, he might have torn those clothes right off him right then and there.
"Are you mad?"
Fuck. "Not at you. Never at you."
He kissed the man again. His mouth couldn't stand to not kiss him. He needed to kiss him. Every inch of his body.
"I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you."
Not exactly romantic, but it was honest. His entire body felt on fire with how much he wanted Noah. He didn't know if it was the near-death experience or the fact that he had his mate, an actual wolf soul, lying beneath him, but he still needed it.
Maxwell kissed Noah again, enjoying the way Noah tilted his head back, the way he angled his chin, letting Maxwell know exactly what he wanted.
And Maxwell was about to give it to him.
Maxwell hooked his thumbs into the elastic waist of the man's shorts. He needed them off. He needed all smells that weren't his own off the other man because this was just torture.
When Noah's prick sprang free, Maxwell groaned, breaking off the kiss again and pushing himself down, down, down.
Noah had a runner's body, and when Maxwell took his cock in hand and felt it jump, he felt his heart rate do a little jump as well.
Noah moaned, his hands coming into Maxwell's hair. Fuck, it was loose. He normally tied it back, but he supposed Collin wasn't thinking of that when he was busy trying to keep Maxwell alive.
Maxwell let his tongue slide against the underside of that perfect shaft, licking him from the root all the way up to the head.
Salty sweet. He pressed his entire mouth around Noah's crown then sank down around the length of his cock, moaning with the pleasure of it.
He normally didn't like going down on anyone. Maxwell didn't have anything against the act in general, but it just wasn't something he'd ever been able to get into. Not on another man. On a woman it was different, but the few times he'd tried this with his male lovers, there had been a sense of loss, that he wasn't in control, and the alpha side of his brain hadn't appreciated that.
This was different. This was something he could definitely get used to. He wanted to do this until Noah came so he could swallow down every drop the man gave to him.