Chapter Two
As Patrick cooled, he couldn’t suppress a shiver.
Greg rubbed his hand over his shoulders. “Come on, little one, you’re getting cold.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.” He held him at arm’s length and dropped his gaze down Patrick’s body.
“Now, go and have a quick shower so we can head into town and get that pizza I promised you.”
“Really? Still?” Patrick couldn’t believe his luck. A blow job and pizza, all in one evening?
“Sure.” Greg swept his lips over Patrick’s. “I said we would. Won’t let a little distraction change our plans.”
“But?” Patrick nodded at Greg’s groin. “Don’t you want…?”
Greg cupped his cock and grinned. “Unlike you, I’m in control of my dick. It’ll wait until later and the….” he lowered his voice, “you can come again, with me.”
“I like the sound of that.” Another cool tremor wound its way up his spine. He glanced down at his deflated cock.
“Go, be quick.” Greg stepped away. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“Can’t deny that.” He chuckled. “For many things.”
Fifteen minutes later, Patrick was in fresh clothes, his hair damp from the shower, and he was navigating the Jeep down the narrow track from the camp. They reached the main road and headed east toward the small town that was in their territory.
The sun had been swallowed by the forest and the road was illuminated amber by the Jeep headlights. Patrick had a nice sense of satisfaction sitting in his lower abdomen. His Sir had certainly treated him to some late afternoon fun.
“I’ll park in the lot around the back of the library,” Patrick said.
“Sure.” Greg folded his arms over his chest and sighed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at Patrick.
“What?”
“It’s just…”
“Tell me, you know it won’t go any further if it’s pack business.”
“Well…okay. When I saw Aleco earlier, he said there are more rumblings going on in the Rocky Mountain Pack.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Titan, their Alpha has recovered from the neck wound Aleco inflicted when getting Julie back. Seems his mood and his delusions of grandeur are worse than ever.”
“How do you mean?”
“Throwing his weight about, riling up the younger members of the pack. Disrespecting the elders.”
“How does Aleco know this?”
“He has his ways.”
Patrick opened his mouth to ask what those ways were, but shut it again. It was clear Greg didn’t want to say. “And what does that mean for us?”
“It’s not good to have unrest in a pack that borders our territory. Especially such a big one.”
“I agree.”
Greg reached over and squeezed his knee. “But don’t you worry about it. It’s under control.”
“I worry about you.”
“You don’t need to.”
Patrick pulled into the lot and turned off the engine. The rattle had still been bugging him and he was glad not to listen to it anymore. “Maybe not, but I love you, so I’m always going to worry about you. About the things you have to work out with Aleco to keep our pack safe.”
“We are safe.” Greg curled his hand around Patrick’s neck and drew him close. “When you’re with me, you don’t need to worry about a thing. I told you that the day we met.”
Patrick smiled, recalling that special day. It had been love at first sight for both of them.
Greg set a hard kiss over his lips, then pulled away. “Food. Before I waste away.”
“I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon.” Patrick laughed and admired the way Greg’s T-shirt strained over his shoulders and back as he climbed out of the Jeep. The guy was huge, his strength bulging beneath his flesh.
A new shiver of desire went through Patrick as he too stepped from the Jeep. He knew his mate would be keen to fuck later. How could he not be after the fun they’d just had? His need would be mounting, sex filling his thoughts.
But it just went to prove how considerate he was, that he was happy to wait until Greg had recovered, enjoyed pizza and was ready to go again. It was romantic, really. Well, as romantic as Greg ever got.
They ambled across the near-empty lot, past several huge trash bins and down an alley.
Before long they were handing over cash and waiting for their pizza. Medium ham and pineapple for Patrick and an extra-large meat feast for Greg. They’d added cheesy garlic bread to the order and a bottle of cola. Patrick’s mouth was watering.
It didn’t take long to arrive and the scent was divine. Greg’s nose twitched as he inhaled over the box.
“Good, huh?” Patrick said, holding the door open.
“Yeah.” Greg nodded and picked up speed, clearly keen to get back to the Jeep and home so he could start eating.
Patrick trotted along after him. Greg took big paces and when he was striding with purpose his steps ate the ground.
They headed down the alley toward the lot. But as they passed the trash bins a small whimper caught Patrick’s attention.
“What was that?” he said, stopping.
“Dunno?” Greg kept walking.
“It was definitely something.” He frowned and glanced at the bins. “From behind there.” He heard it again. “Greg.”
Greg stopped and turned. “Probably a raccoon or something.”
“No.” It hadn’t sounded like a raccoon. More like a dog, a canine in distress.
Patrick frowned and stepped up to the green trash bin. It was over six feet high and he guessed it was for the local business to use rather than the townspeople. The ground next to it was scattered with litter—bottles, wrappers, cigarette butts—but among that he saw something that made his heart rate pick up.
Blood.
Several splashes of it leading out of sight. “Greg. Come here.” Without waiting he slipped behind the trash.
He caught his breath.
Lying in the shadows on an old piece of dirty cardboard was a dog—an injured dog. “Oh, shit.” He rushed up to it but stilled when it opened its eyes and growled. “Greg, come quick. It’s a dog.”
Greg was already behind him. “Jesus Christ, here hold this.” He thrust the pizza boxes at Patrick. Patrick took them and stepped out of the way. As a dog shifter, his mate would know how to handle the situation. “There, there, boy, it’s okay,” Greg said, stooping. “We ain’t gonna hurt you, buddy.”
The dog stopped growling and the whimper started up again.
“That’s it. We’ve got you now.”
It was medium-sized, its fur an unusual russet color, the same as Redwood cones. Its poor face was bloody and one eye swollen. It seemed as if its ribs were painful by the way it was breathing. Hopefully not broken, though. There was a nasty gash on its front left leg and its front paws appeared swollen.
“Got yourself in a state, haven’t you,” Greg was saying as he scooped his arms beneath the creature. “But it’s okay now. Nothing to worry about. We’ll soon get you fixed up.” He stood, lifting the dog with him as though it weighed nothing.
“What are we going to do?” Patrick asked.
“Take him back to camp.” Greg frowned at the dog, whose head was now lolling as if it had no energy left, no more fight in its body. “See if we can patch him up, though fuck knows what’s happened to it.”
“Hit by a car?”
“Possibly, then come here to die.” Greg clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Damn careless drivers.”
“Come on. Let’s not hang around. We need to get Flo to have a look at him. She’s bound to have some lotion or potion that’ll help.”
“Yeah.” Greg’s expression was dark. “No time to waste, either.”
Greg rested the dog on the seat between him and Patrick with its head on his lap. He placed his hand over the dog’s belly to stop him from sliding around in his unconscious state. Patrick whizzed along, glancing at Greg and the dog whenever he took a corner to make sure he hadn’t been overzealous with his speed. Thoughts of the pizza dumped on the rear seat were long gone. Now, it was all about helping the poor creature they’d stumbled across. Adrenaline pumped through Patrick’s veins and he didn’t like to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t paused when he’d first heard that pathetic whimper. They rattled and jostled up the track to the camp.
The dog whined a couple of times and its limbs twitched, but it didn’t open its eyes.
Finally, they pulled up.
“Help us,” Patrick called to the group of shifters and their humans standing near the wall chatting. “Quickly.”
By the time he’d rounded the front of the vehicle, Greg was already out and holding the dog, which seemed all the more pitiful now, somehow.
“Jeez!” Raul rushed over. “What happened?”
“We found him, in the lot. Is Flo about?”
“Yes, take him to your cabin and I’ll send her in.” He turned and jogged toward his own home.
Greg carried the dog along the dirt path and Patrick rushed ahead to open the door.
Greg stepped inside, being careful not to bang the animal’s flopping head. Its poor legs looked weak and delicate.
“We’ll put him in the spare room,” Greg said, gesturing to the left with a nod.
“Good plan.” Again Patrick dashed in first. There were two single beds in the room and he yanked the pillows and thick blanket off the closest one. He made a bed in the corner of the room for the dog. There was no point in putting him on the actual bed—if he woke disorientated he could fall and do more damage.
Gently, Greg laid the animal on the soft blue blanket then stroked his head. “Strange injuries.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, not quite in keeping with a traffic accident.”
“No?”
“No, its paws here, oddly swollen, and this cut… It looks like a knife.”
“That’s terrible.” Patrick pressed his hand over his mouth. “Who would do such a thing to a poor, defenseless creature?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure Aleco will be keen to find out and have us take action.” A dark look crossed Greg’s face as he pressed a soothing hand on the dog’s neck. “It’s a wicked crime to hurt an animal.”
“I agree.”
“What is it? Raul said you needed me?”
They both turned as Flo rushed into the room. Raul was close behind her carrying a black box.
“This fellow,” Greg said. “We found him in the town. He’s injured.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” she said, stooping and shaking her head. “Poor little mite.”
“Can you help him?” Patrick asked, switching his weight from one foot to the other and knotting his fingers.
“I’ll do my best.” She sighed and reached into the box Raul had set down next to her. She pulled out a wad of gauze and a small brown bottle. “You might have to hold him, Greg. This’ll sting, but those wounds need cleaning.”
“Sure.” Greg nodded “Do what you have to do. Whoever did this can’t win. We must get this dog well again. It’s our duty.”
“Of course.” She nodded and tipped strong-smelling liquid onto the gauze. “This may take some time.”
Half an hour later, the dog was patched up to the best of Flo’s abilities, which were considerable. She’d bathed his face and the cut, dressed the wound and soaked the swollen front paws in warm saline. She’d also rubbed pain relief powder into its gums to help it rest.
The dog hadn’t stirred once.
“He’s totally out of it,” Patrick said, when Flo and Raul had gone.
The stillness of the creature was unnerving. It was as if it had entrusted its body to them the minute Greg had picked it up. “Someone is going to be missing their pet.”
“He doesn’t have a collar.” Greg stood and pulled Patrick into a hug.
“No.” Patrick leaned on his mate. The last hour had drained his emotions. “Perhaps a chip.”
“Mmm.” Greg hooked his finger beneath Patrick’s chin and raised his face to his. “But there’s nothing else to be done here tonight. Leave him some water in case he wakes up thirsty, but other than that, he just needs to rest and let Flo’s medicines work.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“And we’ve still got pizza to eat.”
“Oh, it will be cold now.”
“But still edible.” Greg swept his lips over Patrick’s. “Can you go get it while I clean up?”
Patrick’s stomach suddenly rumbled. “Yeah, and I guess I’m still hungry, too.”
“I just hope you’re still hungry for more than pizza.”
“Always.” He went on tiptoes and kissed his mate, then turned to the dog, who was still unstirred. “I just hope we find him in a better state in the morning.”