Page 4 of War Games (Jacky Leon #11)

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CHAPTER THREE

I waved at my brother as he drove off, letting the men clean up the mess from lunch. I tried to ignore the whispering between Heath and Dirk, knowing the conversation was private. Niko hadn’t spoken at all about the incident with Landon, pretending as if it didn’t happen, and I didn’t bring it up. Now, Heath was taking a chance to really talk to Dirk while I saw Niko off. I had hoped Heath would wait until after dinner, but since Niko decided not to stay all afternoon, it was better to give Dirk the advice he needed now rather than later.

It wasn’t over by the time Niko disappeared from view, so I waited until I felt Niko leave the territory. Once I no longer had that to focus on, I turned my attention to the conversation to check what was going on before I went back inside.

“Dirk, you can’t let him?—”

I tuned back out, sighing heavily.

“I’m going for a walk,” I said loudly.

“Take your phone,” Heath replied instantly, cutting himself off from whatever he and Dirk were trying to work through about Landon. “Call anyone in the pack if you need anything.”

“I have it.” I hopped down the steps and started in a specific direction.

Landon’s.

I knew where Landon was on his run. I had felt it the entire time we ate lunch. It had been nearly an hour, and he was still going. He kept a grueling pace for his run, pushing his endurance, going around the woods, down streets, and through neighborhoods. He was either taking the most winding path back to his house possible, or he was really beating himself into the ground about his comment.

I walked in the beginning, even taking a moment to grab a bag from the security building with basic medical supplies and water we kept on hand if a wolf got hurt in training. I wouldn’t catch up to him, but since I had spent an hour tracking his movement through my territory, I had a feeling I knew where I could head him off. There was something predatory to the feeling, planning an ambush of prey that had no idea it was running straight into my trap. The way Landon was running told me there was little planning to it, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a pattern.

There was always a pattern, and I knew the area better than anyone, not needing a map to know what he was near at any given time. He was avoiding densely populated areas where people would be walking around, like grocery stores or gas stations. He was going around them, dipping back into the trees every time one blocked his path. He went into quiet neighborhoods but wasn’t jumping through backyards, just a man running instead of trespassing. Much of the land was owned by different people, but generally we were never caught on their land and left very little evidence if we could.

Once I was out of sight of the house, I started to run. Feeling the direction he was moving and taking my own shortcuts through my territory, it only took me twenty minutes to get where I wanted to be. My senses went on high alert as I made sure I would be downwind of him as he passed. He’d catch my scent in this part of the woods, but it was always there. He’d have to be paying attention to figure out how recent it was.

There, I waited another five minutes for the soft breeze to send his scent to me. It took another minute to hear his heavy breathing.

I stepped onto the trail, putting my hands in the pockets of my comfortable leather jacket, and waited, knowing by the time he saw me, it would be too late for him to avoid me. Even if he turned and ran, I was practically fresh, and he wasn’t. He was physically stronger than me now, but not faster, and he was quite literally run into the ground already.

Then I saw him make that turn and watched his surprise as his heels planted into the soft dirt so hard, there were drag marks as he forced his momentum to a hard stop. I knew it was the first time he stopped since he walked out of my house.

“Feeling better yet?” I asked, keeping my body relaxed, even as adrenaline pumped. My ambush had worked, and I was a predator. It was a thrill, certainly, but I didn’t want to indulge the adrenaline and make this into something it wasn’t supposed to be. “Or do you need to keep running for another hour and a half until you collapse in the middle of nowhere to be satisfied?”

It was like a damn breaking. He was barely breathing while I spoke, utterly shocked I had gotten the proverbial jump on him. Then he was breathing hard, chest heaving as his body caught up to the abuse he was giving it. He was running too hard, too fast, to maintain it for as long as he had. His pace was meant for sprints, not the insane endurance run he was putting himself through. I knew from experience that what he was doing was something really only done when a life depended on it.

He staggered, but as I took a step forward, he waved me off as he found a tree to lean on. I stayed silent as he leaned his back on that tree, using it to help him get to the ground without falling. Once he was seated, I stepped closer again. He didn’t say or do anything to stop me this time, so I approached him, kneeling in front of him.

“Let me see your feet,” I said softly, already reaching for his shoes. He grumbled, but I could tell how much he pushed himself. He offered no fight as I yanked off a shoe, then a sock. My nose should have found it offensive, but I truly didn’t care. Sweaty people were a common scent, and there were things you learned to stop caring about, like feet.

Looking over the bleeding sores he had covering his feet, I clenched my jaw. It wasn’t common for that to happen to older or experienced Moon Cursed, but Landon wasn’t wearing running shoes and that was a mistake. He had on a nice pair that meant he probably had a work meeting he had now missed. Normally, a good pair of fresh running shoes could handle this, or just running barefoot would be the smarter choice. I got the second shoe and sock off, seeing the damage was the same on his left foot.

“Damn, Landon. If you were human, I’d take you to the hospital for this. You can’t let these heal in human form. You need to Change to heal if you want to walk in the next several days.”

“I will later,” Landon said, finally speaking up.

“That’s right. It will be later. Not much later, though. We’re going to talk, then you are going to Change and go home,” I said, patting his knee. I shifted to sit next to him now, leaning on the tree as well. “You’re lucky it’s me here instead of Heath or Dirk,” I said, my tone casual, but the comment was all too serious. It was difficult, trying to be casual through my teeth.

“I know,” he mumbled.

“If your father saw the damage you’ve done to yourself, he’d carry you home and give you an ass chewing while he took care of you.” Even as I spoke, my jaw was beginning to get stiff because I was talking through a clenched jaw. “At least walking barefoot won’t give you an infection, or at least not one that we have to worry about. And it’s me, not your father, or gods forbid, your mate .”

Landon winced.

“What the fuck, Landon?” I finally snapped, unable to hold it back any longer.

“I know, Jacky,” he said, leaning away from me. “I’m sorry for what I said?—”

“I don’t care about what you said earlier. I care about what you’ve done to your feet!” I snarled, pointing at the bleeding feet. “You said it. It’s done. I know you’re being an overprotective bully about Dirk’s safety and were trying to one-up your father about why he can let me train but you can’t let Dirk. That’s not the point. Look at what you did to yourself!”

He sank lower, but I saw him look at his feet as I demanded.

“We’ll worry about the bullshit you pulled at the house in a minute.” I hefted the bag off my shoulder and dropped it by his thigh. “Clean them up. There’s saline and water. Drink the water. Use the saline to rinse off sweat and dirt.”

“I know how?—”

“I trust adults to take care of themselves?—”

“I am an adult,” he snarled as I hit a nerve. “I’m over a century older than you!”

“And yet, here we are,” I growled, making him rock back.

I said nothing more. I waited as he opened the bag and did as I asked. He drank some water first, which was room temperature, even a bit warm, but it was water. He cleaned off his feet with the saline, then used an almost excessive amount of anti-bacterial on the sores before beginning to wrap his feet.

“I’ll do that.” I moved in front of him again and patted my thigh until he put his foot there. I wrapped the right one first, then just grabbed the left. I was gentle with my touch, but I made sure the bandages were going to stay on until he decided to Change.

“Now… about what you said.” I sighed, holding his left foot, not letting him take it back. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. It was a mean thing to say.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye, but that wasn’t the problem.

“It was the truth. You used it in a mean way,” I correctly softly. “And it’s already forgiven. We don’t need to talk about it beyond that.”

“Did you really come all the way out here to say that? To tell me all is well and forgiven?”

“Yeah, and stop you from continuing to run yourself into the ground. Niko stayed for lunch, and after he left, Heath started talking to Dirk. I decided to come out here looking for you. Told them I was going for a walk.”

“I still don’t want Dirk training with Niko. I don’t want him getting hurt.” Landon’s jaw locked, the muscles twitching from the frustration and stubbornness of the man who was in a very vulnerable position, me still holding his injured foot.

“You want to talk about that?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. He won’t be fighting; he doesn’t need to risk another werewolf or, worse, a werecat taking a chunk out of him,” Landon growled.

“He might be fighting?—”

“He won’t be fighting!” Landon snarled, leaning closer, trying to pull his foot from my hands at the same time. I squeezed, my grip firm and unbreakable. He growled louder.

The hardest part about knowing Landon for a long time was learning how to deal with him in certain situations. I hated how I held his foot. I knew it was the only thing that kept him from storming off. It was the curse and how it changed his temperament from what might be normal for a werewolf. There was something inherently aggressive about all the Moon Cursed. We were cursed , not blessed. Landon’s was magnified thanks to what happened to him when he was young, things I knew his father regretted every time Landon’s rougher edges were too raw to work around. Landon hated himself some days, and I had a feeling he was going to regret this one. Maybe not anytime soon, but one day.

The struggle lasted a solid minute, and I knew I was going to have to replace the bandage on his foot if he didn’t want to Change. It took werewolves more time, so they didn’t do it as frequently as werecats.

He didn’t try to kick me off or anything. He just yanked, and I refused to budge. His tired legs couldn’t put up the fight he wanted, and I was too stubborn to lose to a werewolf about this.

When he finally settled, growling as he glared at me, I sighed again.

“Let’s not play these games, Landon,” I said softly. “There’s no reason for them.”

“He won’t be fighting,” he repeated, ignoring what I had said entirely.

“You’ve seen him fight before?—”

“One time, a werewolf tried to tear him to pieces in my Pa’s house because they wanted to kill you and Pa. The other, his uncle nearly murdered four of us in some fucking fae magical woods bullshit!” Landon said harshly. “I won’t let Pa risk him. I won’t let it happen. He’s too important. He’s mine, damn it, and I won’t see him get hurt when it could be avoided. I’m done indulging bullshit. The witches will have to kill me first to get to him. I’ll keep him safe.”

“Landon—”

“My mind is made up on it, and I’m going to do everything in my fucking power to keep Dirk safe. He’s my mate. He’s my forever.”

I released his foot, and he jumped to his feet quickly.

“I’m going home. You can go home and tell my Pa whatever you want. He can fight with me about it later.” He started walking away, struggling stubbornly on his battered feet. He didn’t care about the shoes or socks he left behind.

“Landon.” I pushed myself up now. “Landon! Talk to me.”

“No,” he said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at me. “If we’re good about what I said, there’s really nothing else to talk about.”

“What is wrong with you? You’ve never been this protective or frankly this irrational, Landon. You know he’s capable?—”

“The only reason you care about it is so you can stop thinking about the dead kid in Alaska,” he snapped.

That left me stunned, mouth open, yet no words formed to retort or even deny.

“See you tomorrow, Jacky,” he growled, limping away.

I let him go, bewildered as he left me alone on the trail.

That bewilderment evolved into anger as I looked down at the bag I brought to help him.

He left his fucking shoes. Thanks, asshole. Now I have to carry back your stinky damn shoes and socks.

I shoved them in the bag and started heading home.