Page 21

Jaxson

BLONDIE WAS DRAGGING a beta-toxin-infected wolf over to the appropriate pile, while Jasper’s wolf and Bruce’s wolf were hauling their own slabs of flesh into the dead pile and the soon-to-be-dead pile, respectively, when our mate slipped into a deep unconsciousness. The sudden absence of her life force was like a vacuum sucking out parts of our very souls. Blondie’s hold on the wolf loosened, his vision blurred, and he stumbled back into the side of a pew as the entire world spun before us. Frigid terror skated down his spine, turning every follicle of fur into brittle icicles ready to snap.

Our alpha sent a directive, one that had Blondie sprinting to the back of the pack house and shifting us into human form so swiftly that I ended up puking in front of the rear door, reeling from the jarring transformation.

I slam the back door open, and a cold wind hits me, biting at the partially healed wounds in the shape of claws and teeth slashed across my entire back as I rush around the structure, looking for a way up. My nose twitches with the scent of over a dozen wolf-shifters. The air seems charged with their presence, their emotions sending jolts of electricity down my throat with each gasping inhale I take.

I’m frantically searching for a ladder when I hear the door I just exited bang open. I spin around, prepared for an attack, only to find Elder Ralph back in human form and very, very naked, looking at me with wide eyes glowing so brightly in the dark night that they look like two full moons.

“What’s going on?” he queries, approaching me. Listen, I know we’re in a dire situation, and most of my focus is on my mate, but I can’t help but note his giant hands are not the only thing giant about Elder Ralph, as his third leg sways with his hurried steps.

“I need to get to the roof,” I puff out, pointing to the ladder hanging from the hooks on the back side of the pack house. He readily reaches for the other side and helps me lift and extend the ladder up. His eyes swing to the forest behind us, his nose twitching with his wolf scenting the air, his spine elongating a little more with each sniff. He lets out a huffing sort of bark, and several quiet yips answer in return.

With a jerk of his chin, he brings his focus back to me, helping to stabilize the ladder and grunting, “It’s the duchessa ?”

“Yes,” I reply on an exhale, giving the ladder a little shake before I start scaling my way up, the metal creaking under my weight. When I’ve almost reached the top, I hear Elder Ralph call out, and then I feel the ladder shift with the weight of another person starting up. When I get to the roof, I peer over my shoulder to find Elder Allan holding the ladder as Elder Ralph follows my ascent with smooth confidence. He knows what he’s doing , I tell myself with a shrug of a shoulder and proceed to crouch down onto all fours, beginning my careful trek across the slick slate tiles and steep slope of the roof.

I want to move faster but know I can’t, not without risking rolling off the damn roof before I even make it to her. My breath is coming in and out in rapid pants, swallowing down the air around me, and this time it’s her scent I smell, her flavor I taste. A low groan of relief and need rolls through me. She’s close but not close enough, and I still can’t see her, even through Blondie’s eyes. She’s nowhere in sight. When I’m almost to the cupola, I spot her small body hidden in the shadows. The wind fluffing up her fur is the only motion coming from her otherwise still form.

“Little Fox,” I croak out, scrambling the last ten feet or so, coming to squat in front of her. She doesn’t respond. Not able to breathe, I hastily reach out a shaky hand, lightly brushing it over her side. A long exhale releases from my constricted chest when I feel the shallow rise and fall of her ribs. Her body is warm—really warm. Blondie barks a whimper, sending his energy into the palm of my hand, pushing himself into her. Instead of the welcomed greeting that we were hoping for, my wolf’s energy slams back into me like it hit an electrified fence. I yip and rip my hand away, shaking it out, feeling the pain not just in my hand and arm but in my heart. Rejected! She rejected us.

“Careful,” Elder Ralph gruffly cautions from behind me as he braces a hand on the cupola and bends over me and Little Fox. “You’re her mate but not her alpha and not a royal,” he explains in a soothing voice. “She’s unconscious, vulnerable, and it seems her royal guards are up. You can’t force yourself into her. You need to offer yourself to her.”

“Royal guards?” I mutter with pinched brows, rubbing my hands together, trying to work out the last few echoes of her shocking defenses.

“Yes, I assume so... at least,” he muses, stroking his beard from chin to tail. “I’ve only heard about royal guards, never seen them employed. But your reaction seems to fit what I know.”

“Then how do I help her?” I plead on a growl.

He places a supportive hand on my shoulder. It’s warm against the clamminess of my skin. “She just needs to know it’s you, Jaxson,” he assures me. “Bring her into your arms, hold her against your chest, and let her inhale your scent. Let her be surrounded by you, by her mate.”

Blondie pulls back, and I slip my hands under her nearly lifeless form, cautiously picking her up. Her head and limbs flop with the gentle movement, and my heart plummets. Tucking her into me and cradling her like a baby in one arm, I reposition myself to seated, leaning partly against the corner of the cupola with my legs bent in front of me.

Tiny. She is so tiny in my arms. I gently curl her inward so her snout is pressed against the area of my chest that somehow has remained clear of blood, and her tail coils through her hind legs and over her white underbelly.

“Good, Jaxson,” Elder Ralph affirms, his hand on my shoulder rubbing up and down his alpha energy slowly seeping into me, bolstering me. I hear his words, but for several long moments, I don’t believe them, watching my mate remain unresponsive, while my arm holding her begins to sweat from the heat rolling off her body. Why the hell is she so hot?

At the tickle of her soft fur-covered head snuggling in deeper just the slightest bit, I gasp a choked breath and feel the tears that have been building finally drip down my cheeks. I bring my free hand up and stroke my fingers tenderly over her head and down around her ear, while Blondie begins to murr. Her little nose scrunches up, and she turns her face deeper into me, burrowing into the safety of my embrace. “Love you, playmate,” I murmur.

“Oh yes,” Elder Ralphs says, and I hear the small smile in his voice. “Yes, Jaxson. She knows you. She’s coming back. When you feel like you’ve got enough control, let Blondie fill your mouth with his saliva and lick your fingertips, then paint her with it. Just how animals clean each other.”

Blondie likes—and I mean really likes—the idea, and my mouth absolutely salivates with his desire. Bitter bile and tangy copper fill my mouth from the blood of Blondie’s victims and the recent upchuck of their barely digested flesh. Blondie releases a thumping type of growl that unlocks some sort of secret secretion of surplus drool (which is kind of gross), and I barely have time to turn my head before a waterfall practically pours out of my mouth and continues until the only flavor I taste is ours.

I wipe my forearm across my sopping mouth, then plunge my fingers inside. My tongue, which seems rougher than usual, twirls around my digits, and when I pull them out, they’re coated in a saliva that is more like drool, thick and viscous. I paint my scent over her head and down her neck several times, working the liquid through her fur all the way to her skin, which hasn’t cooled in the slightest. I go back for more drool and continue doing so, liking the idea of sealing her in my scent.

Her body expands with a full inhale, and a soft purr emanates from her chest, right before her black lips part and her pink tongue darts out several times. I bring my fingertips to her mouth. Her whiskers brush along the back of my knuckles as her tongue flicks out, lashing across my wet tips. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, my lips curve into a tentative smile, and I hoarsely whisper, “Lick us up, mates.”

Her long, delicate lashes flutter several times before her heavy lids pull back just enough to give me a glimpse of her eyes, the glow in them flickering in and out.

“Oh, goodness.” Elder Ralph exhales a long groan, crouching down even lower, his bare chest abutting my bare back, which causes a few stings of pain from my open wounds. “Jaxson,” he says in a soft yet stern voice, his beard tickling my ear. “Let your wolf’s energy pool in your fingertips, and brush them over her lips. Let her continue to lick, rub, and suck them. She...” He falters. “She all but emptied herself, which—”

I turn my head to peer at him with raised brows. His glowing eyes flit to mine and then back to Little Fox. He snorts. “Which shouldn’t have happened, from what I understand, at least. Perhaps more training in efficiency will be of help.” My fingertips prickling with Blondie’s energy are at Little Fox’s lips, so I feel her huff out a hot breath in response to Elder Ralph’s words.

My tentative grin grows, and my back slumps against the cupola in relief when she forgoes her silent commentary and focuses on sucking down Blondie’s offered energy. My head drops back, and my eyes close as warm pleasure swirls in my chest with her letting me and Blondie in, letting us share our energy with her. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I groan. “I’m sure she’ll take your words under... consideration.” And then I yip as a little nip mixes in with her licks. Tilting my head down to look at Little Fox, her eyes, which are glowing brighter and brighter, are slitted in challenge. “If she chooses to, of course,” I amend and am gifted with a long purr from her.

“Right, yes,” Elder Ralph agrees. “Wouldn’t dare tell her how to do anything. Just concerned.” His hand that was rubbing my back comes to a sudden stop. I feel his wolf rise and his body tense. “Ah,” he mutters. “Looks like our alpha has secured our attackers, and the pack is helping with detainment. I think we’ll be needed soon.”

It is only then I realize the howls and barks that were filling the woods have been replaced with human voices, one in particular: Xander’s. Xander is giving out orders like the alpha I’ve always known he was, and those under him are replying with “Yes, Alpha.” Listening closer, I note the sound of people, not wolves because wolves are far quieter, moving through the forest. There’re the sounds of things or people being dragged and of car doors opening and closing. I scan the area, and being this high up, I’m able to spot the lights of two police cars, one parked at the top of the hill blocking the entrance to the pack house parking lot, and the other flashing between the trees on the road up to where we all are.

Little Fox releases my fingers, and her soft fur brushes against my chest. Bringing my attention back to her, I watch her ears independently rotate around while her glowing eyes grow distant. Her lips pull up on one side, and she tries to squirm her way out of my arms. Assuming she’s okay, I help ease her onto all fours, with my hands hovering around her sides just in case—which is a good thing since she collapses under the effort of trying to hold up her own weight. “Let’s just go down together, yea?” I say eagerly, scooping her up in one arm.

She attempts to growl her objection at being carried right before zonking out again. My heart stops, and I quickly check in with our bond, finding her still connected, still with us, just passed out. And, damn, am I liking how small she is in fox form. I’m able to just carry her along with such ease. I wonder if she’d let me put her in a baby sling while I cook or go on errands. Without warning, a startlingly detailed image of a little baby held in a sling with my hand holding the back of their head while I pick out fruit and veggies at the grocery store flashes through my mind. My stomach clenches, my chest warms, and my balls seem to swell as if ready to get to work on making that image a reality.

I shake my head several times in an attempt to dislodge the idea. Not yet. We just got together, and shifters live long lives, much longer than humans, and after about twenty-five our aging process slows down. Billie probably knows none of this. We’re too young and still in college, not to mention how dangerous our world is right now.

Glancing down at Little Fox, the image of me as a father only fades like it’s refusing to disappear, because damn do I want that future. And now I have another reason to fight, to protect, to do what needs to be done to secure that potential life. With a large inhale of determination, I adjust my hold so her little head is snuggled into the crook of my neck, her steady breathing a warm, comforting breeze on my cool skin.