Page 16 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

It was a half-run into a small Southern town the driver insisted didn't exist. He felt bad about leaving me in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes a man feels something in his bones.

Whispering Hills had a courthouse with marble steps and grand columns suggesting it was the town's center. A few simple brick buildings nearby advertised greasy spoon restaurants, hardware, and groceries.

It seemed normal, but something was missing, even though I'd never been here before. Was it me?

A man with a long handlebar mustache, who looked like a sheriff, watched me as I hurried down the sidewalk. I met his eyes temporarily and moved past, still feeling his unblinking stare.

Two attractive young men my age approached. The Black guy was taller than the shorter White man by his side. Both were well-muscled and walking close to each other. So close, you could believe they were together .

I swallowed nervously and introduced myself. I described the short man I'd searched for—the one who never left my thoughts. They stared at each other before sniffing slightly. The tight neck muscles hinted at secrets but suggested I see the sheriff.

Mike was the one who always avoided the police. He had a different name for them, though. I hadn't done anything intentionally illegal, besides hitchhiking and taking an acid tab. Although, it's possible my draft number was called.

Slinking around wasn't my style, and I had all intentions of going back to the mustached man. Instead, I froze in place. Outside the brick grocery store was a familiar muscled, short man with dark hair and the cutest light-green eyes I had ever seen.

My throat burned as if I had swallowed glass. I searched, yes, because my heart demanded it, but I never thought I'd actually find him. His paper bags hit the ground, glass bottles shattering with sharp cracks. The scent of tomato sauce and dry pasta wafted through the air.

I raced over, with my hands pressed against his face, kissing him like my life depended on it.

It was stupid and the sheriff could throw me and him in jail.

I risked us both, yet his warm tongue twisted around mine as he stood.

I was instantly hard as he trembled, not fighting me, but returning my kisses less with each passing second.

In that moment, it felt like we were the entire world, but reality soon intruded.

"Mike? It's okay. I found you. I accept what I am. We can be—"

His faint-green eyes pooled with tears and then dripped down to a simple, single-color shirt. I'd expected psychedelic designs or his favorite bands like The Doors, or Bowie, but there was no color to his wardrobe or face .

As if he'd seen a ghost, he stared back. "I'm… married."

"What?"

The sheriff strolled over with a loud sigh. Unlike my father, he didn't slap handcuffs on someone right away or start throwing around vague accusations. He suggested we visit the courthouse for a little chat. He then instructed Mike to go see his 'Alpha.'

The little man refused, getting a frown from the sheriff. "Suit yourself, but if Henry wants… I can't stop him." He scratched his handlebar mustache. "Course, it might be best."

I never thought much about that name, but now I hated it.

He walked me past same-sex couples, with some holding hands as they did in San Francisco. The papers said it was a gay sanctuary there, although they picked ruder words.

Up the white steps, we went past tall, muscled men in blue policeman uniforms and into a small clean office.

Once we had privacy, the sheriff spoke with a relaxed drawl. "How do you two know each other?" Before I could answer, he hurried to add, "If there's anything you think I wouldn't believe, just tell me. It'll make things easier."

My dad used similar lines, but I got the sense the sheriff wanted to help.

I looked to Mike for support, but he hugged himself, looking everywhere but me.

"You care if people are queer?" I asked.

"No."

"What about someone taking one acid tab?" I didn't have to see Mike to sense his raised eyebrows.

"Do it outside town, and we're fine."

So, I told him, leaving out my town's name in case he ran a skip trace. I mentioned personal thoughts I had about myself and Mike. With reluctance, I went over the more unbelievable parts like meeting the two wolves, floating over my body, and sensing that I had to find this hidden town.

"That's a whopper of a tale."

Heat flashed over my face. He said I could trust him.

"My turn, son." As if he explained something to a child, but without a condescending attitude, he told me about a world hidden from most. Magic existed, as did vampires, bayou witches, and shifters, but not werewolves .

That was a racial slur, and he warned me to never say it.

Then he finished with men who birthed children.

It was a story to instantly dismiss, but my intuition and Mike's bloodshot eyes told the truth. Whatever confusion he brought into my life, he never lied.

If true, then I was an Alpha. I could have gotten powers if I mated with an Omega like Mike. If only I was man enough to—

Outside shouts came, and a tall, dark-haired muscled man my height burst through the door. An angry sneer grew under this upswept black hair. His fist missed my jaw by less than an inch and splintered the desk's edge, spraying the air with wood chips.

In unison, the sheriff and I grabbed his arms, pulled them behind, and then up in a standard policeman lock. A lawman and a hitchhiker stared at each other for a few quick heartbeats before locking thick handcuffs on him.

"Let me go! I'll kill the homewrecker who kissed my Omega."

He jerked his head toward Mike and sniffed the air. "I can smell him on you!" he growled, and his eyes darkened with rage. "You wanted it, didn't you? That's why you want to go out, so you can screw other men! Well, it won't happen. I'll kill him before you get a chance."

With a long flex of his red-tingled biceps, he stretched cracked metal. I assumed the sheriff used stronger handcuffs in a shifter town, but today, it didn't hold.

I ducked his earlier fist, but he was a skilled fighter and adjusted, landing a hard hit across my jaw. He avoided the sheriff's arm and Mike pulled him back. If he hit Mike, the sheriff would fill out paperwork for murder.

I'd have questions later, like why the sheriff didn't turn into a wolf. Perhaps it was an Andy Griffith town where the lawman was easygoing. It helped me before on the street, but now it let the beet-red face guy have another shot.

I wished I could have experienced the next few moments like an army hero in Vietnam—bullets whizzing by, mortar shells erupting, yet still charging forward with bayonets. Instead, I screamed while a man turned into an oily-black wolf tangled in country-style clothes.

In the movies, the clothing disappears, but not here.

Mike and the sheriff jerked up and around as if expecting something worse to come.

The sheriff had enough holding back and brought his black baton down on the wolf's head.

It connected but didn't stop razor-sharp canines from sinking into my flesh.

Officers poured into the tiny office, repeating the sheriff's baton attacks, and they reminded me of the college protests from the news. The creature didn't release until I punched it in the nose, making it howl in pain. It collapsed to the floor under a tangle of policemen.

My eyes met Mike's. He was a man so confident in who he was and traveled across America on his own. He didn't let anyone beat him.

Now he huddled in the corner crying like the women on those domestic disturbance calls. On some, it was obvious the boyfriend or husband hit their girl, but they wouldn't press charges. Fear kept them quiet.

Mike was in the same situation.

***

"Ma'am," I said to a pretty, tiny woman and her taller dark-haired girlfriend. Funny how I never thought of gay women , but I didn't think of magic or shifters either.

"You're Todd," said Mary, the taller one.

" The Todd," added Penny.

There were implications in her statement, and we had a quick and to-the-point conversation.

Henry was alive and according to shifter law, I approached someone else's Omega.

Legally, he could kill me. He'd heal over a few days and be ready for satisfaction .

I could leave town or rescue the short man I finally found.

"How do you save someone who doesn't want to be saved?" I asked out loud.

"Oh, he told you?" asked Mary.

"Well, he didn't fight back."

Mary was the Alpha and more dominant, but Penny's narrow stare bore into me. "It's that simple, is it?"

Embarrassed heat flashed over me. "No, but I… we need options." There had to be a way to save him. We weren't together, but Henry attacked someone I loved. He abused Mike, even if he didn't hit him. However, I heard there was a nasty bruise where Henry grabbed his wrist.

"I like Mike as a friend," said Mary, glancing at Penny. "But wolves have to fight their own battles, or their mate has to step in for him. It makes the pack strong."

Mentally, Mike is stronger than me… no, was. This man I knew wouldn't fight, and his Alpha wouldn't become a better man. Why would he? Everything was perfect for him .

An idea took root in my head. "Ladies? Can I fight to be his Alpha?"

***

I didn't have long to get my plan working, since Henry healed faster. The women hinted I could leave, but I searched for this town and the man I needed in my life. I was not giving up.

As if I were a robot, I marched up to the door and knocked.

"Go away," came a small voice. It came from Mike, but it might as well have been from someone else.

"I came to talk, and I'm not leaving. If you don't open the door, I'll stay out in the chill."

"Wolves don't get cold."

I smiled slightly. Hints of the 'Know It All' were still there. "Henry's getting released soon. If you don't let me in, I'll be here when he comes."

A curse and hurried footsteps approached before he unlocked the door. Dark shadows under his faint-green eyes suggested he hadn't slept. "I hate you."

He didn't mean it, I hoped. I took too long to find him, and he mated with another man. I heard hate and love were different sides of the same coin. If Donna ever remembered me, she'd agree.

"Can I come in?"

"You shouldn't."

"It's not a no." The cabin was immaculate but had the feel of someone who cleaned, so their mate wouldn't yell or do anything worse.

It was a place to live, and nothing more.

I don't know what a 'Mike cabin' should look like but it wasn't this.

It needed psychedelic black-light posters and random ESP books.

Perhaps The Doors playing on a record player or a new 8-track.

There would be hippie food in a bowl and a smoldering joint.

All the weird stuff but comforting because it was his.

I might not be his Alpha, but damn if I didn't feel like it. "I love you."

Other people might have said the same or buried themselves in my arms. Instead, he turned around, breathing heavily. After several seconds, he stood straight and turned. "I wish you could have said it earlier, but… yes. I love you too."

After a few short heartbeats, the old Mike was there: the man who explored and lived .

"But it's too late and not your problem, because I'm the one who said yes to him.

I have to deal with it. Go away. He can break steel if he tries and smash wood when he doesn't. He's stronger than any human and most shifters. He'll kill you."

"Maybe. I came to tell you two things. One? You drive me crazy and ruined my life because I couldn't imagine a life without you. Two? The Mike I know and remember? He's not here, but I'll find him. I've turned my back on too much, including myself, but I won't do that to you."

His eyes reddened. "Go. Please."

"I can't if someone's in danger." I gestured to his wrist. The bruise stayed, despite his super healing. "I told the sheriff and your useless pack leader."

"Told them what?"

"That I'm willing to fight him to the death."

The horror on his pale face sent mental ice over me.

"You don't have to pick me as your Alpha, but I'll make damn sure he's not yours."

***

"Oh…" Kim turned to Mike. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, but how romantic! My Alpha doesn't say anything when people smirk at my hair."

"Do you want him to get into fistfights?" I asked flatly.

"No, but some gesture!"

"Let him know it bothers you, then see if he does anything. Did you tell him how you feel?" I asked.

"No, but he should smell it on me."

Mike watched me like a hawk. "Yes, it is typical Omega behavior. You make us figure out what you're thinking."

"Wolves can smell emotions, so it shouldn't be hard," said Mike.

Kim gestured to us. "It's obvious you won."

"Nobody wins when there's a war or fight, at least not most times," I said. "Two guys fighting led to multiple murders, dead families, and me not seeing Mike for years."

***