Page 8 of Destined Prey (Wild Ones #1)

Chapter Eight

Ben had overheard the drama with the old lady.

He didn’t know her and was glad of that.

She seemed pretty obnoxious. He’d wanted to growl when Jack had winced over the comment about his parents.

It’d taken most of Ben’s restraint not to intervene.

At least Rhett and the store manager had put an end to the show.

The manager they invited to dinner. The manager that was checking Jack out. Ben stomped down the anger and possessiveness that rose. He had no right to either emotion. Jack wasn’t his, wasn’t property anyway. But Ben would be damned if he stepped back and let Greg have a chance with Jack.

The possessiveness scared him almost as much as it thrilled him. Wolves took, claimed, controlled—he’d spent his whole life refusing to be like that. And yet one flash of Greg’s smile at Jack had Ben ready to bare his teeth. He forced the urge down, hating how close it still sat under his skin.

The sexual tension between Ben and Jack was arcing higher every second they stared at each other.

Ben let his gaze travel down past Jack’s pretty green eyes, down the smooth planes of his cheeks, over the plump, kissable lips, past the pointed chin to the strong column of Jack’s neck.

He saw the pulse fluttering there, smelled the nervousness and need coming off Jack.

Trailing his gaze down, he saw the bulge at Jack’s groin, the thick press of his erection against the placket of his jeans. Jack didn’t leave his cock dangling down his thigh. He tucked it right up front, and Ben was damned glad of the view it afforded him, because Jack was packin’.

Ben took his time studying that thickening bulge before slowly bringing his gaze back up to Jack’s—just in time for Rhett to step in front of Jack and glare at Ben.

“Why don’t you just strip him here in the produce section, bub?” Rhett all but growled. “Jesus Christ. Mrs. Elgiers would have keeled over if she’d seen you looking at my little brother that way.”

Ben had been prepared for the possibility that he’d have to deal with Rhett in some manner. He just hadn’t really thought of what he’d do in case of a confrontation with him.

Jack reached around and grabbed hold of Rhett’s arm, then tugged, hard, sending Rhett stumbling backward as Jack moved past him. “I can take care of myself, Rhett, but thanks. Why don’t you get the cereal and cookies?”

Rhett touched Jack’s cheek, and Jack looked at him. “You sure?” Rhett asked. Then he touched Jack’s side, and Ben remembered the way Jack had been hurting the night before.

Jack’s cheeks darkened with a blush. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The look Rhett gave him said otherwise, but Rhett merely nodded, then took the basket and headed to the cereal aisle.

Ben told himself it was now or never, which likely wasn’t true. Still, it gave him the balls to close the distance between himself and Jack, although he kept out of Jack’s personal space.

“I’m Benjamin Akers.” Ben held out his hand. “I live about half an hour outside of town. You’re Jackson Tucker.”

Jack blinked at the sound of his full name, something about the way Ben said it making his stomach flip.

It didn’t feel like gossip anymore. It felt personal, weighted, like Ben was rolling the syllables around in his mouth to taste them.

Jack swallowed hard, unsettled by how much that tiny thing affected him.

He grimaced. “So you must have heard the gossip.” He glanced around, then moved farther down the produce aisle. “Thank God this place is dead tonight.”

Ben followed him, wondering what was going to happen next.

Jack stopped in a nook by the swinging doors leading to the back of the store, where stock was probably stored. “Are you just out to tease the local queer boy?”

Ben almost snarled at that, but he could see why Jack would be wary. There was a strong attraction between them, and Ben could smell Jack’s arousal now. And his fear.

“I haven’t heard any gossip. I’m not exactly popular in town, either. We’ve only been around here for a year or so. And what’s happening is this.” Ben moved a little closer, then slowly reached out to put a hand on Jack’s hip.

The moment his palm brushed Jack’s body, Ben felt the man shiver.

Jack’s breath hitched, shallow and uneven, and a flush crept up his neck, bright even in the dim light.

His pulse leapt, beating fast under delicate skin, and the scent of nervous want thickened in the air.

Jack didn’t step back. If anything, his body angled closer, subtle but undeniable, and Ben’s chest tightened with the instinct to haul him in and never let go.

He bent and whispered against Jack’s ear. “I want you. You want me. Everything else, we can figure out as we need to.” He wanted to linger, to press closer and lick the shell of Jack’s ear.

If they hadn’t been in a public place, Ben would have done that and more.

And if Jack wasn’t hurt. Something’s wrong with his side.

He brushed his hand over Jack’s left side, then lowered his hand.

He felt Jack shiver, heard the swift inhalation of his breath, smelled the even stronger aroma of need.

Moving away from Jack, even if it was only a foot or two, almost physically hurt Ben.

What the hell is happening? Before he could panic over it, a calmness washed away everything but the lust swelling between them. “I’ve never felt like this before. Never wanted anyone so bad.”

Jack gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He tipped his head down, as if he were studying the floor or the tips of his shoes.

Ben ached to caress his nape, to say or do something to reassure Jack that he was safe, though what from, Ben didn’t know. The instinct was riding along Ben’s nerves, and he didn’t understand it at all.

“Me neither,” Jack whispered after a long moment of silence. “I…I don’t know what to do. This feels so intense. Why?” He looked up at Ben.

Ben didn’t have an answer, but he knew one thing. He needed to kiss Jack, to soothe his trembling lips more than he needed his next breath.

“Come outside with me?” Ben asked. “Let me kiss you.”

Jack’s chest hitched, and for a second, then two, Ben thought he’d say no.

Jack surprised him with a quick nod. “Okay. I know just the place.”

Instead of heading outside, though, Jack slipped past the swinging doors.

Ben followed him like a dog on a leash. He’d been right about the back being used for storage, but Ben didn’t care.

He dropped his gaze to Jack’s lean, pert ass, and followed that sweet bit until Jack opened another door, then they were outside, in a dark alley, with only a weak light over the exit door to illuminate anything.

Ben didn’t need that light. He could see just fine in pitch-black darkness—thanks to the shifter in him.

“I have to know if it’s real,” Jack was saying, reaching back for him.

Ben slipped his hand in Jack’s, and let himself be led into the darker recess of the alley. “It’s real, if you mean what we’re feeling.”

“I thought I knew what real was when it came to wanting a man, but I learned that I was an idiot. I don’t know if I can trust this.” Jack stopped, turned and looked his way. “Shit, it’s dark. I really hope you’re not out to hurt me.”

“Never,” Ben vowed. He couldn’t hurt Jack. That was one thing he knew without having to examine the why of it. Ben glided his free hand over Jack’s hip, back to his injured side.

“Oh,” Jack whispered, shivering again. “You keep touching me there.”

“You hold yourself like it hurts.” Ben gently stroked. “Does it?”

Jack licked his lips, and Ben damn near came in his pants.

“Yes,” Jack hissed, tipping his chin up, asking without words for a kiss.

“Why?” Ben asked, freeing his other hand from Jack’s so he could cup Jack’s neck, feel that pulse beating soft and fast against his palm.

“W-why what?” Jack stuttered, leaning in, inching closer, until their bodies were pressed together from chests to knees.

Ben forgot what he was asking. Need roared through him like a fire over gasoline-doused tinder.

He sealed his mouth over Jack’s, no gentle start to it as the lust driving him grew stronger.

The kiss hit like impact, all heat and demand, and Ben let himself drown in it.

Jack’s soft whimper vibrated against his lips, sending a rush of need down Ben’s spine.

Every sense was full of him—the faint taste of coffee, the warmth of his breath, the trembling way his fingers clawed for Ben’s shirt.

It was overwhelming, terrifying, and addictive in the same breath.

Ben was saturated in Jack’s scent, in the touch, taste, sound of him.

The slight growl Ben swallowed down as Jack trembled in his arms only made Ben want the man more.

He thrust his tongue against Jack’s at the same time he rutted, driving his hard cock over Jack’s. The grind of cotton briefs and denim pants was almost enough to make Ben come. It wouldn’t have taken much had he not retained some modicum of control.

Instead of giving in and just rubbing against Jack like an animal incapable of controlling himself, Ben stopped moving his hips, and just kept his groin pressed to Jack’s as he explored Jack’s mouth.

Jack was sweet, in scent and taste, and Ben loved those things about him. He used his hold on Jack’s neck to encourage him to tip his head a bit for a better angle.

Jack whimpered and grasped at Ben’s shirt. He parted his legs and another sweet, muffled sound was fed from Jack to Ben.

Ben wanted to devour Jack on a sexual level, something he’d never wanted before from a man. He’d been horny, he’d been infatuated and maybe he’d even been a little in love, but none of his past relations with lovers had anything on what he felt for Jack.

He burned with need for Jack, and it was terrifying, enough so that Ben gentled the kiss as he tried to keep from freaking out. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from Jack, maybe not ever.

“Nngh,” Jack mumbled, then, “No, don’t stop! I need…I need…I—”

Ben slipped the hand he had on Jack’s ribs down between them, until he was cupping Jack’s cock through his jeans.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jack thrust into his palm. “Oh, Jesus, I’m so close!”

Ben wasn’t sure if he should get Jack off or not. If Jack came, Jack might be done with him. If Ben made him wait—

The door banged open. “Jack! Jack!”

Jack went stiff in an entirely not-fun way as Ben let go of him. Ben recognized Rhett’s angry voice.

“Shit, he sounds pissed.” Jack ran one shaking hand through his dark hair. “God. Like I’m not an adult or something.”

“He’s your brother. He worries.” Ben took a step back.

His instincts warred within him. He wanted to stay, to fight for Jack, but fighting Rhett would be foolish.

Jack loved his brother. Ben also wanted to leave Jack wanting him, and that seemed to be the best course of action for now. “I’ll be in touch, soon.”

“What does that even mean? How? How will you do that?” Jack called out, but Ben turned and trotted off as Rhett bellowed like a mad bull behind him.

Again, he felt an almost painful tug as he left Jack.

Ben forced himself to keep moving, even if his coywolf railed internally against him for doing so.

Something weird was going on with him, and Ben was afraid to delve too deeply to find out what the problem was.

By the time he made it back to the truck, where Casey was waiting, Ben was sweating and he felt dizzy.

“You look like shit, bro,” Casey said when Ben had got in the car and buckled up. “Seriously. What’s wrong with you?”

Ben leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I was fine until I left Jack.”

The admission hung in the cab like smoke.

Ben rubbed at his chest, unsettled by the ache lodged there.

It wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t even simple longing.

It felt like a thread had wrapped tight around his ribs, pulling, demanding he go back.

That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t safe. And it sure as hell wasn’t something he could explain to Casey—or to himself.

“Hm.” Casey didn’t say anything else as he drove out of the parking lot, and Ben was glad for that at least.

The last thing he needed was to deal with anyone asking him to explain something he didn’t understand. He never got sick. It was his shifter constitution. Most of the illnesses humans were susceptible to weren’t a danger to shifters.

So what was happening to him? Ben wished he knew.