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112                         Marcy Jacks

“When the hunters caught me, he was the one to convince the others  to let Terry and Nick go. Said they wouldn’t risk coming back for one  caught wolf.”

Morgan grunted when his hands were freed, and he frowned at the  deep-red indents the ropes had left in his skin. Then he started to rub  the circulation back into them.

He nodded at Storm and got to his feet. His muscles were stiff from kneeling in that position for so long, and there wasn’t enough on him that was numb to keep the pain at bay.

Terry finally managed to get out from Nick’s grasp, and with an eager whine, he ran over to Morgan.

The wolf rubbed himself along Morgan’s legs like a cat happy to see its owner. Morgan patted his side, just as happy to see that his mate was in good health.

“What are you?” James asked, apparently noticing the odd scent coming from the other man.

“I’m a werecat. I shift into a mountain lion.”

“You?” Morgan looked over. Chance, the youngest of the four  hunters, was staring at Storm with wide, betrayed eyes.

“Sorry, kid,” Storm said, then turned to James. “I would  appreciate it if you didn’t kill him either. He’s young and not very  bright.”

“He’s a hunter, and with those scratches on his back, he’s infected

with werewolf venom as well.”

“Then make him part of your pack,” Storm pleaded. “There’s  been enough killing already.”

“Why were you even here? Why help hunters?” Morgan asked.  He’d been dying to know ever since scenting that Storm wasn’t  exactly human. He wasn’t just a nonhuman. He was a shifter, the  same as everyone else in Morgan’s pack.

Storm looked away from him and shook his head. “A werewolf  wouldn’t understand. Are you sure Tony is dead?”

“I killed him myself,” John said, stepping forward again.

Mated to the Wild Omega                     113

For the first time, now that he wasn’t staring right at James, Storm seemed to finally take note of the younger man.

His one eye widened, moving up and down John’s body, and he stepped back.

“If you really did help Nick and Terry get away, then we’re in your debt. Two for two. Yours and his,” James said, motioning with a jerk of his head back at Chance. “Though I can’t promise his stay with us will be exactly pleasant, considering the things he has to look forward to.”

First transformations were a bitch like that.

“Come with us,” John said. He and Storm were still locking eyes

in a way that was starting to make Morgan suspicious.

Storm shook his head, and in the most fluid transformation

Morgan had ever seen, he shifted into the form of a cougar, shrugged out of his clothing, and then darted off. No one bothered to chase him down, though John looked like he wanted to.

Poor kid.

“That was different,” James said, and then he turned and looked at

Morgan, his eyes staring particularly at his busted nose. “You look like shit. Let’s get that seen to before it heals incorrectly.”

114                         Marcy Jacks

Chapter Thirteen

Terry could tell that Morgan was angry with him for going along with the alphas, but he refused to be cowed by it.

James’s first answer to Terry’s demand had been a flat no, and even though Terry was now a part of this pack, he was still wild enough to be able to disobey a little. So he’d followed the alphas when they set out.

Because of the hurry they were in, they’d grudgingly allowed it, so long as he didn’t get in the way of what they were doing.

Terry had told Morgan this, but the other man had stubbornly insisted on staying a little angry with his alpha.

He’d get over it eventually.

His inner wolf, angry and wild as it was, had been a constant growling presence inside his mind, demanding that he go and take back what was his. When the first hunter had been killed, and the second injured, he saw his opportunity to help.

They sent back the injured hunter, with Terry―being controlled mostly by his angry wolf―nipping at his heels.

The distraction had worked, and now Morgan was safe at home.

One wouldn’t have known that considering the way the other man whined and yelled when the pack’s wise woman, an elderly lady with a huge hump in her back, had to come and set his broken nose for him and then pulled out some needles to give him, too.

Terry had added it to the list he was making in his head. The list of things Morgan liked, didn’t like, all that stuff.

Needles were on the top-five list of things he did not like and had to be forced to deal with. Hunters were at number one.

Mated to the Wild Omega                     115

“Favorite color,” Morgan said, his voice still nasally. It sounded  like he had a cold, but that was only because of how the bandages  were still in place. The break hadn’t healed enough for them to be  removed yet.

“Red,” Terry answered, nudging Morgan with his foot. “Yours?”

They were lying in Morgan’s bed in the cabin he shared with  some of the other alphas. Morgan had pretty much been given a few  days off from doing his chores and guarding the pack. Time for him  to heal and to bond with his mate, James had said.

It had also been something of a gift to Terry. Every minute he didn’t spend with his mate, he spent with the members of his former pack who had been rescued from the hunters and were now living here.

The baby, Sammy, Phillip’s child, was one such person Terry had been most happy to see. Spending time with them also helped to center his inner wolf. It calmed him, knowing that there were still those who were safe.

Even Nick, the blind werewolf, was formerly a part of Phillip’s pack, and that was a fact that he hadn’t even remembered until recently now that more and more of his memories were returning.

Nick had always been something of a loner, being