and Nick, about the size of a regular wolf.
Terry cocked his head up at them after he finished shaking out his coat, as though asking what they were doing standing around.
“Right, let’s get out of here,” Morgan said, allowing the shift to come over him.
The change from two legged to four was always something he enjoyed. It felt like he was getting his vertebrae popped and stretched in that pleasant way that he liked as his bones rearranged themselves. The cold hadn’t been bothering him too much, but now that he had a fur coat to protect himself with, as well as the thick padding under his paws, he was more than warm enough to take on the rest of their trip.
He shook out the loose hairs from his coat just as Terry did, and when Nick was on all fours, he did the same.
They were going to have to rely entirely on body language for this last trip back to their pack, but that was all right. It wasn’t like there
Mated to the Wild Omega 81
would be much to say so long as they stayed out of sight of hunters.
Morgan yipped, giving the signal to Nick, and he tore off through the snow, heading for home.
* * * *
The tracks were faded thanks to the heavy snowfall that only let up less than an hour ago, but it was obvious to Tatum what animal they belonged to.
He opened up the second tent, the smell of sex wafting out, but that only angered him more.
The two men were fully clothed inside and tucked within their separate sleeping bags, but it was pretty obvious to Tatum what they’d been doing to distract them from keeping watch last night like they were supposed to. Tatum kicked Anthony in the side, the jostle and curse of the other man waking up Storm.
“Get your asses out here, the both of you!” he yelled, then went back out to stand in front of the tracks. He only had to wait maybe twenty seconds before they showed up and he could point down at the tracks.
“What the fucking hell do you think those are?”
Anthony looked down at them curiously, but it was Storm who
answered. “Wolf tracks.”
That made Anthony tense up. “No way did a werewolf come here without us knowing it.”
“You think this is just a coincidence, you faggot?” Tatum sneered.
Anthony snarled back at him. Storm had to put a hand on his shoulder.
“Tony, don’t.”
Ugh, Tatum had to turn away. He should’ve known better than to bring these two in, but how could he have known they were like that when he brought them onto his team? Storm sometimes looked like he could barely tolerate Anthony at all.
82 Marcy Jacks
And what kind of stupid-ass name was Storm for a man anyway?
Fucking hippies.
“Chance! Wake your ass up! Right now! We’re heading out!”
Tatum ran to the shrubs where he’d hidden their Ski-Doos, and he
breathed a deep sigh when he found them still intact. Not a scratch on them. He turned one of them on and listened to the sputter and vroom of the engine as it came to life.
They weren’t exactly brand new, but they were fast and did the job during the winter hunts.
Chance came out of the tent he’d been sharing with Tatum, rubbing his eyes and holding onto his sleeping bag like it was a baby blanket or something. “What’s going on?”
“There are tracks. We’re going to follow them,” Anthony answered for him.
Chance’s eyes widened. “Tracks? Here?”
“Yes, here,” Tatum snapped, sending one last hateful look toward the two love birds. “Pack your shit up. We’re following them and seeing where they lead us.”
“The sun is barely up!” Chance whined.
Tatum pulled the Glock he carried in his holster and pointed it at the kid’s head, which was harder to do than it sounded just because of all the layers he was wearing.
Chance put his hands up and backed up a step. “Right now then. Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Tatum put the gun away and started packing up
Terry cocked his head up at them after he finished shaking out his coat, as though asking what they were doing standing around.
“Right, let’s get out of here,” Morgan said, allowing the shift to come over him.
The change from two legged to four was always something he enjoyed. It felt like he was getting his vertebrae popped and stretched in that pleasant way that he liked as his bones rearranged themselves. The cold hadn’t been bothering him too much, but now that he had a fur coat to protect himself with, as well as the thick padding under his paws, he was more than warm enough to take on the rest of their trip.
He shook out the loose hairs from his coat just as Terry did, and when Nick was on all fours, he did the same.
They were going to have to rely entirely on body language for this last trip back to their pack, but that was all right. It wasn’t like there
Mated to the Wild Omega 81
would be much to say so long as they stayed out of sight of hunters.
Morgan yipped, giving the signal to Nick, and he tore off through the snow, heading for home.
* * * *
The tracks were faded thanks to the heavy snowfall that only let up less than an hour ago, but it was obvious to Tatum what animal they belonged to.
He opened up the second tent, the smell of sex wafting out, but that only angered him more.
The two men were fully clothed inside and tucked within their separate sleeping bags, but it was pretty obvious to Tatum what they’d been doing to distract them from keeping watch last night like they were supposed to. Tatum kicked Anthony in the side, the jostle and curse of the other man waking up Storm.
“Get your asses out here, the both of you!” he yelled, then went back out to stand in front of the tracks. He only had to wait maybe twenty seconds before they showed up and he could point down at the tracks.
“What the fucking hell do you think those are?”
Anthony looked down at them curiously, but it was Storm who
answered. “Wolf tracks.”
That made Anthony tense up. “No way did a werewolf come here without us knowing it.”
“You think this is just a coincidence, you faggot?” Tatum sneered.
Anthony snarled back at him. Storm had to put a hand on his shoulder.
“Tony, don’t.”
Ugh, Tatum had to turn away. He should’ve known better than to bring these two in, but how could he have known they were like that when he brought them onto his team? Storm sometimes looked like he could barely tolerate Anthony at all.
82 Marcy Jacks
And what kind of stupid-ass name was Storm for a man anyway?
Fucking hippies.
“Chance! Wake your ass up! Right now! We’re heading out!”
Tatum ran to the shrubs where he’d hidden their Ski-Doos, and he
breathed a deep sigh when he found them still intact. Not a scratch on them. He turned one of them on and listened to the sputter and vroom of the engine as it came to life.
They weren’t exactly brand new, but they were fast and did the job during the winter hunts.
Chance came out of the tent he’d been sharing with Tatum, rubbing his eyes and holding onto his sleeping bag like it was a baby blanket or something. “What’s going on?”
“There are tracks. We’re going to follow them,” Anthony answered for him.
Chance’s eyes widened. “Tracks? Here?”
“Yes, here,” Tatum snapped, sending one last hateful look toward the two love birds. “Pack your shit up. We’re following them and seeing where they lead us.”
“The sun is barely up!” Chance whined.
Tatum pulled the Glock he carried in his holster and pointed it at the kid’s head, which was harder to do than it sounded just because of all the layers he was wearing.
Chance put his hands up and backed up a step. “Right now then. Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Tatum put the gun away and started packing up
Similar Books
