"The exciting story of the werewolfhounds continues, and a lot of things happen in this book. The focus is on Ryland, an alpha who is a member of Max’s pack, and Scott, one of the omega wolfhounds who is not supposed to exist because humans supposedly killed them all. Scott is also a member of Logan’s pack, a smaller group that ran into Max’s territory in the previous book and whose members are now trying to figure out how to merge with Max’s larger pack. Dean and the human Joey are still fighting, but there are some real hints as to what is going on, and the human doctor, George, also seems to be hiding a few secrets. Scott, as an omega wolfhound, is weaker and less dominant than the alphas and betas but is used to acting like an alpha, so the human scientists don’t kill him. But he was caught in the previous book, and cruelly experimented on, and he still isn’t quite over the effects of the drugs he was given. As he recovers under the care of Ryland, the only one who can touch him without causing pain, Scott begins to learn the rules of his new pack. But he also has to adjust to being mated and figure out how to be a worthy partner for Ryland. Ryland is happy to have his mate back with him and does everything he can to help Scott recover from his ordeal. The mating heat may be inconvenient, and Ryland is scared of hurting Scott, but when he is sure they both want it, he is determined to be the best mate he knows how to be. Protecting Scott from other pack members, imagined rivals, and the dangers of hunters trying to find any wolfhounds who escaped from the labs where they were created keeps Ryland quite busy. If you like the idea of two rival packs reluctantly coming together and merging, if you want to see how Ryland rescues and takes care of Scott, and if you’re looking for a read that is full of fear, sudden hope, and hot newly-mated action between the sheets, then you will probably like this novella." -- Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
Don’t die. Please, for the love of God, don’t die.
Ryland had been waiting and hoping his mate would come back to him. He didn’t expect it to happen like this.
George opened the door and flipped on the light. He pointed to the small, steel frame bed with the thin mattress on it. “Right there,” he said, and then moved to the white cupboards that were on the opposite wall.
Ryland moved to the bed, which looked more like a cot than anything else.
Easily replaced whenever someone was so injured, bloody, or sick, that the entire thing needed to be thrown away for health reasons.
Ryland was as gentle as could be as he eased the animal onto the flimsy mattress. He made sure to keep the omega’s paws on the mattress itself, and he wasn’t sure if he should’ve pulled back the covers, but then he supposed that wouldn’t have been so great. It would warm him up even more, and he didn’t want the wolfhound getting too hot. That seemed like a mistake waiting to happen.
“Do we know what he was injected with?” George asked, returning quickly and wheeling over an IV. He hung up a bag of clear fluid and then worked to insert something in the wolf’s leg. He was going to make sure that Ryland’s mate stayed hydrated. That was a good thing.
George snapped his fingers in front of Ryland’s face. Ryland blinked and jumped a little.
“Snap out of it, Ryland. Do we know what he was given?”
Ryland shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “I don’t know. I...They just brought him here. They said he was like this since he was injected. He’s getting worse.”
Ryland looked at him. George had once worked for the same sort of people who had kept Ryland and his friends slaves, for the same sort of people who had done experiments like this on Ryland’s mate.
He was also the only human in the world that Ryland trusted one hundred percent. Only because it had been George who had helped the alpha form a plan to escape, but that was it.
Ryland was suddenly distrustful of the man again. He hadn’t felt this sort of burning anger for George in years, but now that he was feeling it again, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the reminder that George used to be no better than the humans who had done this to his mate and that now he was living under the same roof.
Ryland might just kill George if whatever he was doing didn’t work out, didn’t save the omega.
He didn’t voice this, and George didn’t seem to pick up on it. He was too focused on his patient. He opened the omega’s eyes and flashed a light into them. Ryland was never entirely sure what that did, but it made George nod and pull back.
“No brain damage,” he said.
“Is he dying?”
He’d better not be. Please don’t be dying.
Ryland hadn’t claimed his mate yet, but already he could smell the scent of the omega, and it was doing things to him. Even though his mate was sick and unconscious, in his animal shape, something primal and dangerous was waking up inside of Ryland right now. He wanted to shake his mate awake and take him, claim him, fuck him, every which way from Sunday, and he wouldn’t care who was watching him do it either. Nothing mattered but waking his mate and seeing for himself that he would be all right.
George eventually, finally, shook his head. “If this is what I think it is, then no.” George looked up into Ryland’s eyes. “From what I was told, the drugs were never meant to kill him. Not all omegas could take it, but his chances of dying from whatever he was given are slim, so long as he wasn't given a lot of it.”
“Smith told me he was put into a room, like the one that Joey’s father was put in. They were going to try and brainwash him or some shit.”
And it made Ryland so fucking furious to think about that, that he wanted to hunt down every human in a white lab coat and tear them apart.
The world would be left with a lot fewer scientists and smart people if Ryland did something like that. Even he knew that not all scientists were evil. It wasn’t even most of them.
It was just the ones who thought that werewolves and wolfhounds didn’t deserve any human rights.
And as this thought was going through Ryland’s head, he could still only think about how soft his mate’s fur was. Even as the creature lay there, sweating and not moving.
Ryland felt like a pervert. He should probably go, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
“What were the drugs supposed to do? I don’t get this,” Ryland said. How were the humans supposed to brainwash an omega mate when the subject was unconscious? How did they know that this omega had a mate? Ryland had only met him the one time. They didn’t know each other’s names. There was no time to get things going, as they should have been. Everything was so fucked up right now.
George was still working. Still running around, still trying to get everything in order. He pulled out some more needles, a thermometer of all things, and a couple of cold packs.
Ryland felt bad about asking so many questions when the man was clearly busy, busy with Ryland’s mate, no less, but he needed to ask these things. His body felt like it was on edge. He was jittery and jumpy and he couldn’t hold still. Not really.
Talking while his mate lay there, limp and sick and looking like he was already dead, helped a lot.
He was so horny. He felt like his balls were about to explode, and that spot inside him, right behind his belly, was starting to swell and ache, needing to be touched.
His prostate. Scott hadn’t put his fingers inside of himself for a while, and there was no way he was about to do that in a stranger’s bed. That felt too weird.
He wasn’t going to touch his cock either. That could wait. He could wait. He could handle this. Whatever this was.
But then he tried to move again, and he moaned again.
He came, too.
The rush of pleasure was so sudden and so quick that there was no chance for him to prepare for it, to fight it off and try to get away from it.
It just happened, and now he’d gone and made a mess of the soft, nice smelling sheets he’d been sleeping int.
The very weird, and very real problem, however, was that the second he finished spurting cum onto himself and on the sheets, his body continued to throb. Heat continued to pool behind his belly, and his dick didn’t go down.
What the fuck was happening to him? This didn’t make any sense, and he sure as hell didn’t like any of it.
Scott tossed the sheets off his body, which turned into something of a chore because that meant more sensations for his body to have to deal with.
More of that pleasurable slide of what had to be Egyptian cotton or something. Maybe silk or even satin? Did satin look like this?
Again, it was something he had no experience with, but what the hell else could the sheets be made out of? They were giving him an orgasm like the things had spells put on them to be able to do that.
He was never going to read Harry Potter from the library ever again.
Even the kiss of cool air against his body when the sheets were off of him gave him pleasure, and soon the heat that was accumulating inside him overrode that as well. He needed to touch himself.
Scott curled his hand around the base of his erection. He hunched over himself as his hand stroked up and down, as though he was trying to hide from any eyes that could be watching him right now, without his knowledge or permission.
There could be a camera trained on him right now with the little red light blinking and he was pretty sure that he still couldn’t stop.
It felt too good, and Scott panted for breath like he was neck deep in water. He couldn’t take in a proper breath unless his hand was moving, and soon he was looking at the motion of his hand, the way his turned it around the shaft, the way a drop of precum formed at the slit, and the sight was making his pleasure rise that much higher.
He was going to come again, and from the way his body throbbed, he could already tell that it wasn’t going to be nearly enough.
There was a click and a soft creaking noise behind him, but Scott was incapable of paying any attention to it. He was too focused on trying to keep his breathing straight, in humping into his hand, and trying to make himself have another orgasm.
He swore that if he didn’t get one, he thought he was actually going to die or something, and how pathetic was that.
Scott saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head.
There was a person standing there, but even the sight of this stranger wasn’t enough to yank him out of the spell of lust that had taken over. The heat was bad now, so intense and strong that every breath he took felt like the air had come from a furnace. He was so close to coming, he could feel his orgasm right there, just at the precipice, he was on the edge, and he couldn’t do anything about this.
The stranger’s face turned a light shade of pink at the sight of him. Scott knew he should probably stop what he was doing, that at the very least he should probably feel embarrassed as fuck, want to hide his face away, all of it, but he couldn’t.
If he stopped jerking off, he was going to lose his mind.
Maybe it was because the stranger was so good looking, but the sight of him increased the buzzing lust inside of Scott’s body by a thousand.
At least a thousand.
He had to be over six feet tall, with the way he stood and all. He wore a brown leather jacket and jeans that were tight enough to show Scott how nice the man’s thighs were, but not so tight that nothing was left to the imagination. He had soft brown hair that seemed move in waves toward a strong jaw, and even softer brown eyes. Amber eyes. That’s what that was called, right?
“Wh–who are you?” Scott asked, and it was a minor miracle that he’d been able to get that much out.
At first the stranger said nothing. His nostrils flared, and the color in his neck and cheeks increased, becoming darker. His eyes darkened, too.
Scott could barely summon the brainpower to realize that it was his own lust that was making the other man have a reaction like this. He didn’t care. He just kept right on moving his hand.
Until he came again.
Scott groaned, and curled in on himself as warm cum spattered his hand and stomach. He still couldn’t stop. As much as that pleasure pulsed inside him and as high as it had brought him, there seemed to be no low point to it. No stopping.