[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, werewolves, shape-shifters, HEA]
John Platt has been searching for his mate for months now. When he finally finds the cougar shifter, Storm, it's just in the nick of time to save his life before hunters can kill him.
Storm has been running away from John because he believes John wants revenge on him for his actions as a hunter's slave. He doesn't realize that he's been running from his mate, and he won't believe it when John tells him about it either. Two men can't be mated. That's impossible! But that doesn't stop the fact that now Storm owes John a life debt, and he is to be the man's servant for the rest of his life now, assuming they both survive.
The hunters are back on their tails, and with John so far away from his pack, it's just the two of them, on their own being hunted, having to work together to survive and protect their fragile, growing love.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Marcy Jacks is a Siren-exclusive author.
The hunter hadn’t been prepared for the attack, and he screamed and flailed as the wolf had its merry way with him, teeth clamping down on his hands and arms as David tried to fight him off. He screamed, attempting to throw the wolf off of him, but no human, no matter how strong or well trained, could easily throw a werewolf off them in a fight.
Storm managed the energy to lift his head and take a look at the chaos that had suddenly occurred. The other hunters officially forgot all about Storm as they screamed and ran to their leader. They thought they were safe when they found Storm, weak and tired as he was, so no one was holding their guns.
The werewolf, because that was the only thing it could possibly be with a size like that, finally stopped playing around with its new toy and bit Dave on the neck. It sank its teeth so far down into the flesh that when it pulled away one second later, jumping off its prey, Dave’s face was still, blood not even spurting from the wound at his neck because his heart had stopped.
His head was bitten almost clean off. Storm could see the white bone of the neck. Disgusting.
The werewolf was so fast that Storm could hardly follow him with his eyes. He moved like a ninja, dodging swings of machetes, and when one of the hunters finally got his act together, he leapt out of the way of bullets with all the ease and grace of a dancer.
Not bad for a dog.
It seemed as though Storm blinked, and the only hunter left alive and standing was the youngest one in the group. The werewolf bent its head, the hackles on its back rising to attention as he slowly approached the last of his prey.
The guy only had the hunting knife in his hand that his father had given him before the wolf had jumped on him. That wouldn’t be nearly enough to save the guy.
He wasn’t childlike the way Chance was, but Storm didn’t want the wolf to kill him. More of that code of honor his abusive, honor-crazed family had drilled into him.
The guy might’ve been about to kill him, but unlike other hunters, he hadn’t wanted to make a torture session out of it.
Storm had appreciated that.
“Don’t kill him,” he said, so dazed out of his mind that he wasn’t sure if he spoke the words out loud or not.
The wolf stopped anyway, its ears twitching. “Why shouldn’t I?”
He didn’t know how to voice what he wanted in a way that would make the wolf understand, or even do as he asked. The day Storm had run away, werewolves had spared his and Chance’s lives because they owed him that. This werewolf didn’t owe Storm anything and could very well decide to kill the hunter out of spite.
“Please don’t kill him,” he begged.
He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but it definitely wasn’t what did happen.
The young wolf barked and lunged at the hunter then jerked to a stop right when the poor guy yelled and fell backward on his ass in the mud.
The hunter’s body trembled as he stared at the wolf, who was still looking down at him like he was lunch. His hackles raised, and those pointed teeth bared.
It must’ve gotten obvious to him that this was his chance because the hunter scrambled to his feet and ran faster than Storm had ever seen any human go. He vanished into the trees, and soon Storm couldn’t even hear the sounds of his clumsy feet stomping around in the leaves.
Then the wolf turned on Storm, and he shivered.
The wolf approached, and Storm recognized him immediately. “You’re that kid―”
“Don’t call me that,” the wolf snapped. “I’m twenty years old.”
Still young, Storm thought, but he made sure to keep those thoughts to himself. At least he was of age. Better than that, he wasn’t a teenager anymore either. Storm felt a little less guilt and sickness about his attraction to the guy.
“Where’s the rest of your pack?” he asked, laying his head back down to rest.
“Not here,” said the wolf, and Storm wished he knew the were’s name so he could stop thinking of him as just the wolf.
“I came on my own.”
He did? Strange. Storm expected at least a small group of the alphas to be tracking him, not just one lone, angry alpha.
“Well, you caught me. Now what?”
The wolf transformed into the body of the handsome young man Storm remembered from that snowy day in November. His eyes were as sharp on Storm as ever.
He flinched when the guy put his warm hand along the deep scratch left behind by that bullet, but not from the pain. He was afraid of what the wolf planned on doing to him.
Oddly enough, the other man jerked his hand away. “Shit, sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Storm looked at him oddly. “What do you want?”
The man knelt down quickly, grabbing at one of those shoulder backpacks he’d been carrying with him while in his wolf form.
The man unzipped the bag and started pulling out…gauze?
He pulled out all kinds of bottles and bandages, and it all looked like the kind of thing that meant he was planning on―
“Take it easy, now,” said the were. “I’m going to take care of you.”
John put his hand, the skin of which was slick and soft because of the conditioner, on Storm’s knee for balance. He pressed his finger, which had been thoroughly coated with cheap, motel hair conditioner, against Storm’s pucker.
He didn’t push in right away, however. His finger circled Storm’s asshole, coating the ring of muscle. Storm quivered, his breathing picking up. He pressed the back of his head into the scratchy blankets, fighting against the building pleasure. “God.”
Then John pressed his finger inside, and Storm sighed.
He hadn’t even realized that he’d shut his eye, and when he opened it again, he noted the way John stared down at what he was doing with a fixed fascination. He was concentrating so hard on the task at hand.
“Add a second finger,” Storm said.
John looked at him then nodded, and Storm felt the intruding digit.
“Doesn’t this hurt?” John asked, but from the look on his face as he watched his fingers disappearing into Storm’s asshole, it appeared as though he wouldn’t hear any response Storm had to give.
Maybe he only asked to take his mind off the lust that consumed him.
“Not anymore,” Storm said. “Burns a little. Be careful on your third finger, though. That one will hurt slightly, but I’ll be fine,” he added quickly.
It looked like John was past the point of no return when it came to what they were doing. The alpha probably wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted to, but Storm didn’t want to risk that he would.
He moaned out loud when John’s fingers pushed against his prostate.
John’s head snapped up from what he was looking at to see Storm’s face.
Storm’s back arched, and he was now humping against John’s fingers. His grip tightened on his dick, and without wanting to, he found his hand moving, stroking, teasing.
John smiled and thrust his fingers in deep once more. This time Storm was able to bite down his moan, but he still squeezed his eye shut.
“Fuck, you look so fucking good. I can’t wait to fuck you,” John said.
That was a lot of fucks in one sentence. Storm managed to open his eye, even as John continued to thrust his fingers inside of him, adding a third as he did so. John’s eyes were gold. Yes, the most animal side of himself was definitely in command here.
“Get out of your jeans. I’m ready. Fuck me,” Storm commanded. If he had to wait anymore to get John’s cock inside his pucker, then he would die.
John’s fingers slipped out of him, a little too quickly, and Storm’s body stiffened at the shock of pain. He couldn’t blame John for not noticing as he frantically struggled with the button and fly of his jeans. His jeans fit him much better than the ones Storm was wearing, even though they were still a little damp, so John managed to kick them off with less fuss than Storm had used.
He positioned himself, taking hold of his cock and lining it up with Storm’s entrance, and then he thrust inside.
John stiffened and moaned, and Storm felt the sudden warm surge of fluids spurting into him before John was fully sheathed inside.
“Fuck!” he snapped, face twisting in anger at himself.
Storm stroked his hair with his free hand. He doubted any words of “you simply need more practice” or “it will be better next time” would have the desired effect, so he said nothing.
He brought John’s face down and captured his lips instead. Storm began stroking himself as they kissed, figuring he would get himself off like that, but John quickly put his hand down to stop him.
“Don’t worry, just give me another ten seconds,” he said.
Storm was about to ask him what he meant to do when he felt John’s shaft slowly thicken inside him, inflating and hardening.
His eyes widened in surprise. “That is…I can’t believe it!” He’d always known werewolves had amazing stamina, but this was ridiculous.
John chuckled. “I know. It’s a gift.”
Storm would have said something about his cockiness, but his words twisted into a garbled moan when John thrust his pelvis.
“Yes!” he cried out in a hiss, and then released his knee to rest on John’s shoulder. “Just like that!”
John was back to rutting against him like a, well, like a virgin, but Storm didn’t care. This was exactly what he wanted, what he needed.
“You feel, so, ughh! Fuck!” John said, unable to even get out a full sentence as he thrust inside of Storm’s body.
Now that he’d already had an orgasm, it seemed as though his next one would take some time to earn. That was good. Storm wanted this to go on for as long as possible, and for that very reason he was forced to take hold of the base of his cock once more to keep himself from spilling before he was ready.
There were no other words between them as they moved against each other. John’s skin was hot, and Storm never wanted to stop touching him, never wanted that punching of their bodies to stop or the push and pull of John’s cock inside of him to go still.
Breathy moans were the only thing that would leave Storm’s throat. He still wasn’t entirely certain about this mating thing, but if John continued to fuck him like this, then he would believe whatever the other man wanted him to.
John took advantage of Storm’s open mouth and kissed him. He seemed to think that all they needed to do was kiss while they had sex.
No, not just that, Storm realized with a start. They wouldn’t be kissing at all if this was sex for the sake of sex.
John was making love to him. In his own, clumsy way, he was claiming Storm as his own, trying to show him that they belonged together with his body.
He didn’t have the brain power to be thinking about something of that magnitude just now. He wanted to enjoy himself, nothing more and nothing less. All he knew was how nice and good and right it felt, so he went along with it.