Wolf Hunter by Ryan Loveless

a ton. Even with his wolf traits booted up to hyperdrive, Tom felt the pull on his muscles. They carried him up the porch and banged through the broken screen door. Westley’s jacket hung over the back of a dining table chair. Tom had no problems imagining Westley hanging it there before he sat down to put his shoes on. He’d probably gotten a hard on for his lettuce and forgotten about it. How many times had he sat in that other chair and watched that scenario play out, and then run after Westley with it?
    “ Let’s get him in the bedroom.”
    Cody changed directions—he’d been headed for the couch—and picked his way around it and past an abandoned pile of boots next to a wire brush and a can of black polish to steer them into Westley’s room. It reeked of hunter too. Tom shared a glance with Cody. Goddammit, Westley. They rotated so Tom was at the head of the bed and laid him down.
    “ Go get a cold washcloth.”
    “ Sure, because that will make everything better,” Cody said, but his dry mumbling seemed more directed at himself than Tom, so Tom ignored him. Besides growing up nipping at each other’s heels, they’d been partners on the police force almost ten years. Sure, nothing much ever happened; well, nothing they actually needed to investigate. It was a stupid criminal who’d come to La Mer-sur-Plaines and try to pull anything off. If a werewolf succumbed to its natural urges, Tom’s father and a few of the elders took care of covering up “missing persons” claims and assaults. The pack handled its own discipline. Tom had seen it divvied out. Repeat offenders were few. But even so, even stuck on speed trap detail, Tom and Cody had developed such a rapport that Tom didn’t need to look to know Cody was currently getting that washcloth.
    Tom sat beside Westley and stroked his hair from his unconscious face. “See? I get to take care of you for once.” He glanced at the door. No Cody yet. Technically, as the pack alpha’s son, he could be as sappy as he pleased without worrying about his reputation, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be sappy in front of Cody, who would never let him live it down, ever, not even when he murdered his father and ruled the pack. He kept his voice soft. “What did he do to you, huh? How badly do I have to make him suffer before I kill him?”
    Cody cleared his throat. “Here.” He held the washcloth out.
    “ Thanks.” Tom laid it over Westley’s forehead.
    Cody backed up. He put his hand on the doorframe. “I’m, uh, going to go call Denton, let him know what’s happening.”
    “I should call my father.”
    “ Your dad’s not in charge right now,” Cody said. He avoided Tom’s eyes. “Denton asked us for any updates. I’ll be right back.”
    After the pack meeting, Denton had asked the volunteers to stay. Tom’s father had stayed too, which was probably the only reason Tom hadn’t felt compelled to give into Denton’s strange pull. No one had actually dropped to their knees in worship, but the adoration in their eyes had said it all. Tom had glanced around at the alphas acting like love-smitten omegas and tried not to let his worries show. Cody had wormed his way to the front and feverishly shaken Denton’s hand. It was all Tom could do not to yank him away. When Denton had fixed his attention on Tom, his smile had lost its friendliness. “The heir apparent,” he’d said.
    “Yeah,” Tom had replied, adding, “Alpha” when his father had poked him in the back. “Yes,” he’d corrected himself to the more formal response.
    Denton had arched his eyebrows, now looking past Tom to Thomas. “Well, you’ve lived a nice long life, haven’t you?”
    Tom hadn’t turned around to see his silent father’s reaction. Denton had flicked Tom’s shoulder. “We all love our fathers, son, but that’s no reason to go against nature.”
    “ I never said—”
    Denton had smacked him, hard. Tom’s first instinct had been to hit back. Don’t you know