Forgiving His Mate (MM)

The Lost 8

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 24,370
3 Ratings (4.7)

[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Romance, Alternative, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Vampires/werewolves, MM, HEA]

Henry Miles Smith has been held against his will for years. As a human, he would be useless to wizards and werewolves had he not known how to use medicine to his advantage, to help the wizards control the wolves. Except one of those wolves is his mate, and when the time finally comes to escape, Henry's not so sure if he deserves forgiveness.

Thirteen can hardly recall what it's like to be human, trapped in his wolf form for so long, he can only help his mate survive the pit, and protect him when they are both free.

But Henry has a guilt complex a mile long, and if Thirteen is to care for him, provide for him now that they are finally free, he's going to have to show his mate that the past does not matter, and they can only look ahead.

Marcy Jacks is a Siren-exclusive author.

Forgiving His Mate (MM)
3 Ratings (4.7)

Forgiving His Mate (MM)

The Lost 8

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 24,370
3 Ratings (4.7)
In Bookshelf
In Cart
In Wish List
Available formats
Cover Art by Harris Channing


He didn’t understand. Someone…saved him.

A couple of people saved him.

And a wolf. A golden wolf.

It…showed him the way.

Him and the others. The others he hadn’t killed to protect…whoever this was lying down in the mud here.

This was not a good spot to be sleeping, especially for someone with no fur.

Thoughts and ideas, clearer than he could recall them being in such a long time, came to him.

He…didn’t know who he was, or where he was from, but the scent of this man here, with his glasses broken, soft brown hair caked in mud, and grey eyes looking so distant…he was familiar.

He was…wanted, welcome. He was everything…Thirteen needed.

That…could not possibly be his real name.

Thirteen didn’t remember much of his time in that cold, stone hole, and nothing before, but there was something that seemed so obvious in the idea that most people did not name their young after numbers.

Especially not the bad luck numbers.

“My mate,” he said, testing the words on his tongue.

Because they were true.

This man was his. He belonged to Thirteen.

He smelled familiar, his scent cutting through the mud and filth he’d fallen into.

Also reminding him of his time in the concrete and stone pit where he’d been held against his will.

But the man’s scent was not a reminder of terrible memories. Nothing that made him angry as he recalled needles, many of them, and fights to the death where he struggled for food, or even the beatings those people in bathrobes had given to him.

With their strange powers. Some sort of magick, making him weak.


He knew the word, and he knew that it was some of what they had used against him.

He growled low in his throat, hating them, hating them for keeping him locked away like an animal, hating himself because even now, he felt like an animal.

Even hating his mate a little for allowing it to happen.

His mate, with his eyes closed, frowned and cringed, reacting to Thirteen’s growl even as he lay there, helpless and unconscious.

It was enough to drain his anger from him.

Thirteen could not make his mate afraid of him. He could not allow himself to become that monster again.

He was…certain that he had tasted human flesh, just as he was certain that his mate had seen it.

Thirteen wasn’t sure what his purpose had been down in that hole, or why the golden wolf had saved him, showing him the way to the other tunnels, but Thirteen could only handle one small problem at a time.

So he was going to handle this one.

He gently picked his mate up and out of the mud.

They needed to hide. They needed to get out of here.

The golden wolf had released the others, and the ones who hadn’t found the tunnels soon would.

They would be hunted. By the men in robes and by other wolves.

Thirteen needed to protect his mate. He needed to bring him to safety.

So he started walking, unsure of where he was going, but this was the direction the golden wolf had pointed him towards. Perhaps there was something else this way aside from his mate.

He hoped to find it, soon. They both needed the help.




Thirteen leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm over Henry’s mouth and jaw. “I would also like for you to put me out of my misery, and to kiss me.”

Henry shivered, though he felt a little too hot in that moment.

His heart slammed and his ears started ringing. Thirteen was so close that Henry could make out all the details of his face, and Henry wanted to commit them to memory.

Including the look of Thirteen’s pale lips.

So Henry kissed him, on the mouth, hard, wanting to add a little color to them as he pressed himself closer to the other man.

He moaned before Thirteen had the chance to nudge Henry’s lips open with his tongue.

Henry had been waiting for this, too, and God, if his punishment would be kissing and touching, having Thirteen’s hands all over his body, fingers pushing beneath his shirt, then he hoped to be punished so much more for so long.

Thirteen could punish him for the rest of his life if it meant more of this.

Henry thought he would have some self-control. He hadn’t been the one who had his humanity stripped from him. He hadn’t been the one who was drugged and spelled to go and attack anything Alastair pointed at.

And yet, he was here, throwing himself at Thirteen, moaning as he felt the man’s tongue push into his mouth, loving the way Thirteen gripped Henry’s hair and yanked his head back.

And when the man’s mouth and tongue attacked the side of Henry’s throat, licking and tasting him, leaving gentle bruising as he sucked on the skin, Henry was lost.

His cock throbbed. It had been ages since he’d so much as touched himself.

Getting off in the damp, dark underground facility where black magick and horrible experiments were taking place turned out to be a little difficult. Not exactly the right setting for getting in the mood, but he was here and now, far away from that horrible place with someone who touched him as if they couldn’t wait to have him.

And he was damn well in the mood right now.

“K-kiss me,” Henry begged. “I need you.”

He’d known Thirteen was his mate from the moment he looked at him, but this desire, this he had never felt before.

Now that there was a human man in front of him, touching him, kissing him, stroking him, Henry was lost. He was overheating with pleasure and he needed so much more

“You want me?” Thirteen asked, and Henry was shocked the man could tease him as well as he did.

Henry nodded, his hands stroking over Thirteen’s body. Even with the clothes he still had on, Henry could feel firm muscle. He wanted to see it. To touch it skin to skin.

“I want you,” he begged.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Henry nodded, still gasping for breath.

He didn’t care about the hows and whys of it. He just wanted it.

He wanted out of these clothes. The sweatpants and T-shirt he wore suddenly seemed like the most suffocating thing he could have ever been put into, and Henry needed out of them. Right fucking now.

Thirteen seemed pleased. Which was good. At least that was one good thing Henry was able to do right.

He shoved himself out of his sweatpants. He barely realized he wasn’t wearing shoes. The trail he and Thirteen had been walking on was hard earth, but he hadn’t stepped on any rocks or twigs, which was definitely nice.

Thirteen smiled against Henry’s lips. “You are risking exposing yourself, sweet,” he said. “We are standing where anyone can walk by.”

As if Henry was supposed to care about something like that when he had the best gift imaginable kissing him back, touching him, making him hot and bothered.

His dick curved up and touched Henry’s belly.

It really had been a long time. If just kissing was enough to make him feel like this, then there was the very real chance that he was going to come before they got to the main event.

Still breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, Henry tried to take off the T-shirt, but Thirteen stopped him.

“No. I like you like this.”

Henry didn’t understand, but whatever Thirteen wanted, Thirteen was going to get.

He wasn’t going to even think about denying him a damn thing.

“Please,” Henry begged. “Touch me.” He reached for the taller man, his hands resting on Thirteen’s waist. “Let me touch you?”

He wanted to make Thirteen feel so good, but he was terrified of doing something Thirteen wouldn’t want him doing.

All indicators pointed towards this being a go, but Henry had to know, he had to hear those magick words.

“Of course,” Thirteen said. “I am yours to do with as you wish.”

That wasn’t quite the way Henry would have phrased it. He couldn’t do a damn thing to Thirteen without his say so, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth either.

Henry sank to his knees. He didn’t care that they were out in the open, right in the middle of a trail anyone could walk by on, and he sure as hell didn’t care about being on his knees in the dirt.

The only thing that mattered was how Thirteen allowed Henry to push down the old jeans he wore. There were holes in the knees. He looked sexy wearing them.

Henry was sad to have to take them off, but he was pleased at what waited for him beneath the waistband.

Thirteen’s cock was impressive. It sprung upward, a light curve to it and pre-cum forming at the tip.

Henry forgot to ask as he immediately took Thirteen’s dick into his hand, stroking him, but he glanced up quickly. “This is all right?”

Thirteen’s eyes appeared darker all of a sudden. He nodded. “Do you believe I would ask for you to stop?”

Henry had no idea. Thirteen had been a prisoner for so long that Henry felt a form of terror within himself that he would do anything Thirteen didn’t approve of.

He never wanted to take the man’s choice away from him ever again.

Thirteen seemed to realize that Henry was going to need a little help with this. He gently touched the side of Henry’s face, easing him forward.

“Take me into your mouth,” he said.

Read more