[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, werewolves, HEA]
When Tristan Scott ran away from his pack to avoid the roving eye of a cruel alpha, he never expected to save the life of Isaac Foster as he was drowning in the river, nor did he think the gorgeous man with purple eyes would be his mate, or a hunter of werewolves.
Isaac has hunted werewolves ever since watching his family being murdered as a kid. He hasn't had time for relationships, but there's something about Tristan he can't get enough of.
Their easy time together is shattered when they're attacked and Tristan is forced to transform to defend them. Isaac cannot believe it, and threatens to kill Tristan should the two ever meet again.
But meet they do. They cannot separate themselves from each other, regardless of their enemy status, and soon they must decide whether or not a hunter really can love a werewolf without it jeopardizing both of their lives.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Marcy Jacks is a Siren-exclusive author.
More From DeWitt's Pack
Fuck ’em all.
Tristan repeated the words inside his head until it became the mantra he marched to as he walked away from his pack forever, bag slung over his shoulder and the sun on his neck.
He actually felt pretty good, considering the way his hands were shaking and stomach churning. He never thought he’d be driven to leave his pack, his family, before, but there was no way in hell he was going to be part of that prick’s harem just to settle some old rivalries. Deacon could get hit by a bus for all Tristan cared, and the stupid land he and James were constantly fighting for could burn, and Tristan wouldn’t shed a tear.
Okay, maybe he was a little pissed off. He didn’t want to be an abandoner, but if the choice was between leaving his pack and becoming one of Deacon’s man whores or just leaving the pack, well, Tristan didn’t have to think too long on which he would prefer.
Tristan knew James, his alpha—or well, former alpha at this point—would never ask him to go, but the attacks had been getting worse, more desperate and violent, and every time someone got hurt, Tristan could practically see the wheels turning in James’s head, wondering if keeping one omega safe was worth the broken bones and spilled blood from the rest of his pack.
So Tristan packed up and left an hour before dawn, officially taking the burden from James’s shoulders, and now he was free like the wind. He walked along the water’s edge of the river, kicking rocks away with his orange flip-flops. If James or someone else from his pack decided to come looking for him, they would expect him to walk along the water to keep his scent out of the air. Tristan didn’t mind that so much. It was being found by a member of Deacon’s pack that he was worried about. They wouldn’t know he’d left, but Tristan didn’t want his scent floating around just in case one of those flea-ridden goons happened to be in the area.
A wandering omega was pretty much open season for any werewolf to claim if they wanted, and Tristan would prefer to avoid that until he came upon some human civilization. He’d go a few towns over, make some money doing a couple of odd jobs, and maybe find a place to live with the humans.
At least it was a beautiful day.
* * * *
Fuck ’em all, Isaac Foster thought as he spotted his rifle, sitting innocently enough on top of two crossed tree branches, which stretched out dangerously over the running water.
It was like a skeletal hand that held what he wanted but was playing a cruel game of keep-away with him.
Isaac and the others were here to hunt wolves, not dick around with each other.
The water was calm enough, but it was dark, suggesting how deep it really was, and the way it sounded as it moved on by suggested how powerful that current really was.
Isaac should have never told those idiot motherfuckers that he was afraid of the water.
There was a cackle of laughter behind him and an overly loud hoot.
It was like dealing with a bunch of goddamn frat boys. He was the new guy in their group with the least amount of experience, brought in mostly for the sake of adding numbers and strength to their mission. Just for that, he was the one who had to deal with this shit the most, handling these stupid pranks until he proved himself.
“If that falls in the water one of you idiots are replacing it!”
More laughter in the distance. The guys were all content to sit around their breakfast fire, pretending no one had a hand in Isaac’s predicament, all the while listening closely for the sounds of his enraged cursing.
Fucking frat boys. Isaac was actually the youngest out of the lot of them.
He took off his holster that held his handgun and got to work on climbing the gray-looking tree, trying not to think too hard about whether it could actually even hold his weight. One of those other idiots had gotten it up there and come back down safe enough, after all.
Isaac had no problem with heights, so making it to the heavy branch that stretched out long and far, holding his rifle, was not a problem.
The world only began to spin once he started to crawl along the branch, and he found himself looking down at the deep, dark, black-blue running water beneath him. His palms began to sweat, and he had to lay his body flat against the branch he held, holding his arms tight around it, even though the rough bark scratched at his skin and face.
There was a long shout from the campfire several yards away. “Need someone to come and help you?”
Would have been a nice offer if the tone hadn’t been so mocking.
“Fuck off!” Isaac yelled back. Then he told himself to stop being such a pussy and just keep going. He was only five feet away.
He got back to his hands and knees and started the slow process again, keeping his eyes firmly on target, ignoring the dizzying swirl of sky and water at the corner of his eyes.
Just get the gun, get back to land, and your equilibrium will go back to normal, he told himself.
Finally he was there, and even though everything in his peripheral vision still looked like the Van Gogh painting Starry Night, he smiled wide as he reached his hand out and—
The crack and sudden shift of the branch he was clinging to threw his guts into his throat the split second before the sensation of falling, with nothing below to catch him, surrounded him, powerful as gravity, and he splashed into the water and disappeared into the depths.
His lips were soft, was the first thing Tristan realized, right before Isaac grabbed him by the hips and pushed their groins together, and then Tristan lost all train of thought except for one.
This was happening.
He didn’t mind one bit.
Clearly Isaac was used to being the one in control when it came to sex, because Tristan could do little else but hold on for the ride as he was kissed into submission, his mouth opening in a moan that Isaac took full advantage of when he slipped his wet tongue between Tristan’s lips.
Christ, his cock was pulsing now. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this.
If only they didn’t have to go their separate ways in the morning.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Isaac rasped, his fingers playing around with his belt and fly. He kicked off his steel toes, which made him lose a little height, but he was still taller than Tristan was by about an inch.
Right. Naked time.
Though Isaac already seemed to be working on it, Tristan helped him along by getting his fingers under the elastic of his shorts and pulling them off. Isaac worked on his buttons and hastily pushed it off his shoulders.
He let Isaac grab him by his arms and pull him down on one of the small double beds. Tristan got to his hands and knees and looked over his shoulder as Isaac spat into his hand and lubed his cock.
No foreplay needed here. They were both horny as hell, it seemed. Isaac more so than Tristan if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
Considering he’d been smelling Isaac’s lust since they had their breakfast in the diner more than six hours ago, Tristan couldn’t blame him.
He panicked a little at the firm pressure against his hole.
“Wait.” He looked over his shoulder.
Isaac was looking back at him with that panicked, deer-in-the-headlights look that usually came when someone stopped sex. “What?”
Not his cock. Those were Isaac’s fingers. Tristan breathed a sigh as he realized Isaac was not so far gone that he would leave out the preparation part.
“Nothing, sorry, never mind. Keep going.”
Isaac didn’t need to be told twice.
Tristan inhaled a deep breath and pushed out as Isaac’s fingers pushed in. The burn was there, but not unbearable, despite the lack of lube.
“This all right?” Isaac asked.
“Yeah. Do another.”
Isaac complied and pushed another finger inside him, stretching his hole until this time, the burn damn near was unbearable.
“Relax, sweetheart, you’re too tense.”
No one had ever called him that before. Even though the pet name wasn’t said with any kind of seriousness to it, Tristan was able to do as he was told and force his muscles to go lax. Only then did the burn ease up a little.
Strange. It wasn’t like it was any kind of advice Tristan didn’t already know about, but the gentle reminder was more than helpful.
Isaac kept on pushing his fingers inside until his knuckles brushed against Tristan’s ass, and that’s when he realized Isaac had put them in as far as they could go, and he was still all right.
Then that feeling of those fingers moving inside him, wiggling around came upon him, followed by—
Tristan moaned out loud. He’d had his elbows locked straight, but they gave out on him, and he went face down into the pillow as the mind-bending pleasure came over him.
His hand scrambled down, desperately searching for his cock before he finally found it and held on for dear life, keeping himself from coming, prolonging his torture, and the rest of the night.
Isaac said something that sounded like “There it is” right before he slowly removed his fingers from Tristan’s body.
The next thing to press against Tristan’s hold was blunt—Isaac’s stiff cock—and Isaac pushed in with all the gentle care as he’d used with his fingers.
When Tristan felt the coarse hairs from Isaac’s balls touch his ass, Isaac stopped, waited for what seemed like a solid thirty seconds, and then began thrusting his hips.
Tristan clenched his jaw as that spot inside him was found again. His favorite place. Isaac played with it like it was his favorite place as well.
It was slow at first, but then the punching of their bodies became faster and faster as Tristan began pushing back against Isaac’s prick.
Tristan was talking and moaning at the same time and had no idea what he was saying, had no idea what Isaac was saying either. The whole time he kept a firm grip on the base of his cock, keeping himself from coming.
“Ah, I love fucking you.”
Tristan understood that part.
Isaac’s hands rotated their grip from his shoulders to his neck to his ribs, and in an effort to draw out his own pleasure, whenever orgasm came too close, Isaac stopped, then continued on at a near painfully slow pace before his speed picked up again.
Then he stopped, went slow but hard some more, and finally resumed his quick-as-lightning thrusts.
The next time he slowed down, Tristan snapped at him. “If you do that one more time I swear I will kill you!”
Isaac had the gall to laugh at him. “Christ, you’re eager, considering the way you’re holding onto your dick.”
Tristan let go of himself and gripped the headboard of the bed. “You fuck me and get me off, now,” he commanded.
Tristan would have never thought he had it in him to be so commanding. It wasn’t in his nature.
When he looked over his shoulder, Isaac mock saluted him. “You’re the captain.”
“You’re damn right I am.”