"This book returns to the full-on action and revelations about the mysterious wolves' pasts, adding to the details I saw in volume one. This third installment in the series is gritty, grabbed my attention from the start, and tells what is probably the most difficult story of any of the four brothers with the mysterious powers. It also explains the discrepancy between the self-perception of these brothers as "god-like beings" with incredible powers and the stark reality that shows them to be as vulnerable as the next werewolf. That difference really grated on my nerves in the second book, but it became clear in this volume: the brothers used to be worshipped like gods in the old days, because the humans then didn’t know better, but they are not actually gods. Now, they have to adjust to their new status and it isn’t always easy. Alistair is the mystery-wolf with the power of fire and the one who got all of them into trouble when he caused the curse (at least he thinks so) that had hunters decide they needed to exterminate all luna werewolves. As punishment, as far as he can see, he and his three brothers were sent into centuries of sleep. He figures the hunters catching and torturing him now that he is wake again is fair and just punishment for what he did, but the man who frees him doesn’t agree. Alistair is shocked that his mate has been reincarnated, just like Edward's, but he cannot resist the man any more than he could thousands of years ago. Aland may not remember the details of his previous life, but he has kept all the skills. And as soon as he sees Alistair in danger of being killed by the hunters, he knows he has to help him. As they run for their lives and Aland finds out more about Alistair's and his past, he has quite the adaptation to make. His dedication is the same as ever though, and it was fun seeing these two men find back into the roles they had played before. Aland as the "keeper" of the powerful, easy to anger, werewolf makes a lot of sense and his skills as a hunter come in very handy. There are some interesting hints about the curse, Roarke's pack has to come for the rescue yet again, and some imprisoned omegas are set free at the end of the book, promising many more adventures and pairings to come. If you like stories about reincarnated lovers who are as hot together in their new life as they were in the previous one, if you enjoy tension-filled hunts and nonstop action before a small pause to breathe (with more to come in the next installment, I'm sure), and if you're as curious about Alistair's story as I was after hearing about him in the first two books, then you will probably like this novella." -- Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
In Alistair’s time, thousands of years ago, he and his brothers had been worshipped as wolf Gods.
The thing that proved that to the contrary in this new modern time was that every single human hunter had seemed to master the use of wolf’s bane and silver, leaving Alistair as helpless as a newborn pup as the men danced and cheered around him at their catch.
“Would you look at the size of that monster!”
“Christ, look at its pelt. That’ll take care of us all the way into next summer!”
Alistair was trapped in his wolf form, thanks to the large silver collar that was around his neck, chained to the ground in their camp. He still winced over the gunshot in his side. Silver bullet, silver chains, and a circle of wolf’s bane surrounding him, which weakened him even more every time he breathed it in.
Yes, he was not a God. He was powerful, and his wolf form was larger than any normal wolf, or even werewolf, but he couldn’t summon any of that power at the moment, no matter how much he wanted to.
And he so wanted to when one of the hunters approached him, not worried at all about the possibility of Alistair swiping out one of his claws and gouging out the man’s stomach because the human knew that Alistair was too weak to attempt it. He could barely get up onto his four paws.
It was actually very humbling.
The human grinned at him and held out the bottle of alcohol that he’d been drinking from. Most of the men were either drunk, or almost there, after they’d gotten to celebrating their catch. “Want a drink?” the hunter asked, and he poured the alcohol over Alistair’s head.
He groaned at the treatment he was getting. He could hardly believe there had been a time in his life when he’d been so foolish, and so full of pride, that he’d believed himself to be a God. He was no God, and now he was finally being punished for his sins.
Perhaps the thing that made it all worse was that he’d assumed that he’d atoned for the things he’d done. Edward, his brother, had certainly forgiven him, and then there was the cursed sleep all three of his brothers had been put under along with himself.
Their sins had been atoned for, but not Alistair’s, it would seem. Hunters still existed, and luna werewolves were still endangered. Alistair was just as guilty now as he had been then. He’d just been hoping that when his time came, he could have died with some more dignity than this.
“I don’t think he liked the drink you gave him!” one of the hunters shouted. Alistair hadn’t bothered to pay attention to or learn their names. It didn’t matter. They were going to kill him, and Alistair almost wished they would get on with it already. He’d been strapped to this lone spot for so long that he had to use the bushes, and his dignity had already suffered enough without being forced to go right where he was tied down and sit in his own filth.
“You’re right,” said the hunter with the bottle, and he came around to Alistair’s side and poured the last of the bottle onto Alistair’s open wound.
Alistair roared and pulled against his chains. There was hardly any slack to them, though, and he couldn’t pull himself away.
The adrenaline from the pain, however, gave him enough strength to reach out and swipe at the man with his claws. The hunter jumped back, laughing at the close call as he looked drunkenly down at the tear in his shirt.
The rest of his hunter companions came along to make certain that their friend was uninjured, and they, too, laughed when they noted that Alistair had completely missed the man’s skin.
Not only would he live, but he wouldn’t become a werewolf, which was a shame. Alistair would have liked to take one of those sons of bitches with him.
Better they took only Alistair alone, however, instead of taking any of his brothers as well, or the luna werewolves in the pack not so far away.
The hunters had said it themselves. Alistair’s pelt would give them enough coin to last all the way into next year. They wouldn’t have any more reason to continue their hunt, and the luna werewolves, their omegas, and their pups would stay safe for a little while longer thanks to Alistair’s death.
For some reason, Aland’s face flashed through his mind, and Alistair felt a moment of calm as the hunters laughed and poked fun at him for his mistake.
Why would he be thinking of his dead lover at a time like this? The last time he’d seen the man had been right before Alistair went on a hunt, and then came back to find his body in ruins.
Alistair groaned and went back down, no longer pulling against the chains that were holding him. His brief struggle had kicked up the wolf’s bane that was around him, and the dust was in the air again, making him feel weak and heavy.
“Out of fight, that one,” said one of the hunters, and the man spat on the ground, close to one of Alistair’s claws before he grabbed for another bottle of alcohol and began to drink. “That’s a shame.”
“He’s not exactly fun,” said the other hunter. There were only five in total, and now most of them weren’t paying Alistair any mind at all.
Why would he be thinking of Aland? Was it because the spirit of his dead lover was coming to take him away? Was Aland waiting for when these hunters finally killed Alistair so they could be together?
Alistair whined briefly before he could stop himself. He was an alpha and he didn’t do such things, but the sound was already out of his throat.
If he could spend his afterlife with his lover, and not go to hell like what he deserved, then perhaps today wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.
Alistair was drugged on the silver and the wolf’s bane, otherwise he wouldn’t be thinking such things, no matter how pleasant they seemed.
“I think I’ll die if you tell me you can’t do it,” he admitted. His cock and balls were heavy and in pain just from holding back this much.
“I can do it,” Aland said, steeling himself as he gripped at his messy hair again. There was such a look of determination on his face that even when his balls were paining him, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “I can do this, just, give me a second.”
Alistair did, he gave him more than that because he’d since learned that when people spoke in this time, when they asked for just one second, they were usually requesting more time than that.
It took roughly two minutes before Aland sighed, and his body was finally able to relax around Alistair’s cock inside of him. The man took in a deep breath, and then he was finally able to adjust himself comfortably.
“Sorry that took so long,” Aland said, and he lifted his legs, bringing his knees up so he could squeeze Alistair’s hips.
“This is for the both of us,” Alistair said. “I wouldn’t want to do it if it was hurting you. Though, I won’t lie and say that wasn’t the longest two minutes of my life.”
Aland laughed, but then his body stiffened some more when Alistair began pushing inside of him again.
“Does it hurt?”
“A little, but it’s really more…shocking than anything else. Keep going, but just be slow,” Aland replied.
Alistair did. He thrust inside until his balls were touching the back of Aland’s ass. The man’s erection had wilted a little, so Alistair grabbed on to Aland’s hand and put it back on his cock. “Touch yourself for me. Nice and slow. Keep in time with my movements,” he said.
Aland nodded, and he did. His arm moved back and forth at a slow pace, keeping in time with each of Alistair’s slow thrusts.
Alistair looked down between them, watching Aland’s hand moving, as well as his own cock vanishing in and out of Aland’s body.
He groaned and had to look away when just seeing that brought on a spike of pleasure. He could get an erection again easily, almost as many times as he wanted, but quantity did not always equal quality, and this was his first time inside of his mate in thousands of years.
He pushed it out of his head. He would think about it later, and how to tell Aland about it. Right now he just wanted to focus solely on the sensation of having his hard dick gripped tightly in Aland’s body.
It seemed like they were doing this for ages, slowly fucking and building each other’s pleasure. They weren’t even speaking to each other, just soft panting and gasps, gentle kisses here and there. Aland had never been one for talking while he was fucking, or being fucked. He enjoyed looking into Alistair’s eyes more than anything, and Alistair was pleased to note that hadn’t seemed to change.
Then Aland’s soft sighs and gasps turned into heavy moans as he began pushing his ass back against each of Alistair’s thrusts.
“That’s it,” Alistair said, and he slowly began pushing harder inside of the other man. He planted his hands on either side of Aland’s head and just moved. It was almost like they were back in their own time and place, so many thousands of years ago, that Alistair didn’t even know how long it really was. Doing this in the privacy of their own forest, coming together for a hard romp after a hard day battling demons and rabid shifters.
“Oh fuck, holy fuck!” Aland moaned, and he shut his eyes and threw his head back, his entire body arching with each thrust of Alistair’s cock. “Right there. Don’t stop doing that!”
“Tell me how it feels,” Alistair said, and he came down enough to put his nose along Aland’s collarbone, smelling the musky scent his body was releasing. He trailed his nose up Aland’s throat next before pressing his lips to the man’s stubbly jaw. “Tell me what you’re feeling. Tell me.”
“Feels…really fucking good,” Aland said, and he seemed torn between trying to keep his eyes open so that he could see Alistair above him, or shutting them with each spasm of pleasure that rocked through his body.
Eventually, Aland lost even that small amount of speaking capability that he had as he just started to moan beneath Alistair’s body. He reached up, and with a surprisingly strong grip, he grabbed Alistair by the shoulder and back of the neck before pulling him down into a fierce kiss.
Alistair moaned when Aland’s tongue was thrust into his mouth, claiming him in his own way. It was like the slide of Aland’s wet tongue reminded Alistair that he was still on the verge of an orgasm, and his cock and balls were all but begging him to stop fighting it and to just give in.
He had to break away from the kiss. “I cannot be gentle with you anymore. I need to…oh fuck! I have to—!”
Alistair was cut off when Aland grabbed him again and pulled him down for another hard kiss, and Alistair really couldn’t hold back anymore.