15. Lynx #2
He takes them with a sigh. “So that’s it? You drop this huge fucking bomb on me, make me come, and then expect me to forget all about it and act like none of it ever happened?” His eyes narrow. “Don’t you want me as your mate? Am I not good enough? Too human?—”
“Yes,” I snarl, backing him against the tree.
“You’re human . And too fucking breakable for this life.
” He opens his mouth, but I’m not done. “You almost died once, Morgan, because you smelt like me. If we were mated...” I screw my eyes shut, blocking out the images of him covered in blood and smelling like death.
“It would be a hundred times worse. You’d be an easy target for anyone wanting to mess with me, the club, or my pack. ”
He flinches, and I know my words hit their mark, but he’s still got that stubborn set to his chin. “You could change me,” he whispers, going for nonchalance, but there’s no hiding the waver in his voice. The uncertainty.
I scoff. “Yeah, right. Like you weren’t fucking terrified when I told you about the blood transfusion.”
“That was before.”
I step close enough to cup his jaw and force him to look me in the eye.
“Is this really the life you want, Morgan?” My touch is gentle, but I keep my tone harsh, because I need him to see this isn’t some fucking fairy tale.
“You want to cut ties with your friends, your family? Because there are rules we have to stick to. Telling them what you are risks putting them in danger, too.”
I don’t give him chance to answer. “You’ve seen firsthand what we’re capable of.”
“I’ve seen what the Feral Beasts are capable of,” he counters.
I laugh, but it’s devoid of humour. “You think we haven’t done the same? Or worse?”
He opens his mouth and closes it again.
“We’re a motorcycle club and a shifter pack. We have enemies and we fight .”
“But you heal,” he whispers.
My mind flashes to images of Bale, broken and bloody. “Not always,” I say softly. “Some things even shifter healing can’t fix.” I back away from him, but he catches my hand.
“So that’s it?” he repeats, desperation creeping in. “I don’t get a fucking say?”
I shake my head, and he curls his lip. He looks so much like one of us in that moment, it’s a cruel form of torture.
“Then why do this?” He gestures between us. “What was the fucking point if you have no intention of following through?”
I sigh, because he’s right. I should never have touched him.
“Because I was tired of fighting it.” I take a step back and he lets me this time.
“And that’s why you need to go. Why you need to leave here and disappear for a few weeks, maybe a month, even.
Having you close drives me fucking insane .
I can’t concentrate on everything I’ve got to do while I have this base need to keep you safe.
” My gaze dips to his throat, at the red marks I left there.
My jaw aches and my skin itches with the need to shift, to claim him, and a low growl bursts out of me as I back up even more.
“But most of all,” I grind out, “I don’t trust myself not to do something we’ll both regret. ”
I turn away from him and head back to the house. “Hurry up and get dressed,” I hiss, fully deserving the “Fuck you” he tosses after me.
There’s a welcoming committee waiting when we emerge from the forest. Callum, Jet, Mal, and Flint are sat at the picnic bench out the front of the house watching us approach.
Great. That’s all I fucking need.
Not that it matters. Even a shower won’t hide what we’ve done.
But I’d rather not have this conversation now.
At least I had the foresight to get dressed first.
Morgan walks about two paces behind me, face like thunder, and I know the exact moment that our scents reach them. There are varying reactions, but not one of them looks surprised.
Fuckers.
“I didn’t realise ‘show him my wolf’ was a euphemism,” Cal says, loud enough for Morgan to hear too.
Mal snorts, but Jet and Flint don’t look all that amused. I don’t blame them. It’s not fucking funny.
“Back off.” I growl out a warning, which naturally they all ignore. I get within ten feet of them when there’s a yell from the gate. Bollocks . “Jet,” I snap, “Get him a prospect cut.”
Jet bolts inside, and Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up as he glances between us.
“What’s going on?” he asks, not having picked up the shout from those at the gate.
“Hunters,” I turn to face him. The gates are already being opened. We’re bound by the hunter’s laws to let them in, so there’s no fucking time to hide him. “When they ask who you are and why you’re here, you tell them this and nothing more, okay?”
He nods, thank the Goddess.
“You’re a prospect. You’ve only just joined, and whatever they ask or say, do not let on that you know what we are. Understand?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “I’m not stupid.”
I know he’s pissed at me, so I let it slide. “Mal, go upstairs and make sure Nico and Tyler know what to say if they get questioned.”
“On it.” He races inside, footsteps loud as he hits the stairs.
It’s not definite that any of the hunters will go into the house, but there’s a chance. Why are they here now?
Jet bursts out the door moments later and shoves the leather cut into Morgan’s hands. He hands the rest of us ours, too.
Morgan quickly slips his on, the black leather snug across his shoulders, and fuck me , I’m not prepared for the effect it has on me.
We’re not your average shifter pack.
An alpha has betas.
There’s a chain of command, which isn’t usually up for discussion.
I have Callum, Jet, Mal, and Flint. But they’re not just my betas. They’re my fucking brothers .
Seeing Morgan wearing our name across his back... I want it. There’s a deep, visceral need in my gut that wants him to be a part of what we’ve built, and it’s so fucking hard to accept that it’s just for show.
“Lynx,” Cal hisses, drawing my attention to the approaching vehicles.
Two black SUVs.
Fucking hell.
From past experience, that’s about eight hunters.
Cal comes to stand alongside me. “Is it me, or does their timing seem too much of a coincidence?” He rubs a hand across his jaw. “We aren’t due a hunter check for another few months. Funny they happen to be in the area when we have guests.”
“You think someone tipped them off?”
“Maybe. Or maybe they heard something in town that they weren’t fucking supposed to.”
I turn to look at him. “Ash?”
He shrugs.
“He wouldn’t say anything,” Morgan cuts in.
Cal alters his stance to include him in the conversation. “Maybe not intentionally, but hunters have a bad habit of hearing shit you don’t want them to.”
“Heads-up,” Jet interrupts as the cars pull to a halt, uncomfortably close to the line of bikes in front of the house. “Wankers,” he hisses, and Flint grunts in agreement.
They both take a seat on the table, with Morgan standing next to them. I have the strongest urge to pull him into my side, and swallowing the instinct to keep him safe is like pressing hard on a bruise.
It hurts.
After our chat in the forest, I suspect Morgan would tell me to piss off if I tried it. And he’d be right.
I have no claim on him. And the last thing I need to do is draw attention to him.
To us.
If we’re gonna sell the lie that he’s a prospect, then I need to ignore him. Act like I don’t give a shit.
I shove my hands in my pockets and wait as the SUV’s doors start to open.
Oh Goddess.
Tanner Grey gets out of the back of the first car. All six foot, four inches of him. Dark brown eyes swing our way at the same time as Jet lets out a bone chillingly low growl. It sets my teeth on edge and has Grey freezing in place.
Something flashes in his eyes, but I’m too far away to decipher it. His gaze lingers on Jet for a moment before he focuses on me. “Lynx.” He gives me a nod in greeting.
“Tanner.” I gesture to the cars. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Before he has chance to answer, the rest of the car’s inhabitants pile out and my heart stops.
Tanner Grey runs with the Silver Blades.
But the guy who just climbed out of the passenger seat is not their leader.
I’ve never seen him before, at least I don’t think so because he’s got a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, obscuring half his face.
I don’t recognise his scent, though, and that’s about as good an indicator as I need.
There’s something about him I take an instant dislike to, my wolf a restless presence under my skin.
Hunters in general are a pain in the arse, but for the most part, they stick to the rules they helped put in place. There are always exceptions, though. Those who’d like nothing better than to wipe us all off the face of the earth. I think whoever this cunt is, he falls into that last category.
Cal tenses beside me, and I know he shares my feelings.
Apart from him, there’s a couple more I don’t recognise. The rest are all Silver Blades, including their leader, Keiran Beck. He’s a bit of a dick, but we’ve never had a problem with him before now. I don’t like the way he seems to defer to whoever these new fuckers are, though.
Beck, Grey and the rest of the Silver Blades hang back, letting the three strangers take the lead.
“It’s a routine visit,” the guy at the front says. His tone has a mocking edge to it. He’s tall, maybe six two, six three, with short black hair and brown eyes. He’s built too. Likes to show it off, judging by the too tight T-shirt he’s wearing.
I raise an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Evan Fox.”
“And them?” I nod at the two men stood either side of him like bodyguards.
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “No concern of yours.”