Chapter 8
JAX
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I shoot up off the couch in Traggar’s den like I’ve been set on by a thousand hornets.
I sense him watching me as I pace around the room, and when I glance at him, he’s rubbing his beard, his ice-blue eyes narrowed.
“You need help to quit vaping Jax, and Tippy has agreed to do it.”
I stare at him suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“No coercion?”
Traggar looks affronted. “Of course not.”
“I just know what wolves are like, that’s all,” I mumble.
“Not Trojan wolves.”
I rub at the back of my neck and start pacing again.
“Why are you so resistant to this?” Traggar asks me gently.
“Fuck. I—er, um, it’s awkward, that’s all.”
“If you mean the incident at Bait and Tackle, Otis has already told me.”
“He has?”
Traggar nods, and I’m sure I detect a twinkle in his eyes.
“Eghh, why can’t that blabbing orc keep his mouth shut?” I grumble.
“It’s his duty to let me know what’s going on with you, Jax. I can understand why Tippy is miffed by your behavior, but she’s prepared to overlook it.”
I fall silent. Of course Otis had to tell Traggar that I was way out of line. It was a clear example of a lack of wolf/human integration. I’d planned to go and apologize to Tippy before I came down to level three today, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
If I’m honest, part of the problem is my bruised ego,
Skinny, she called me. And to think I’d hoped she might have feelings for me. Yeah, she did. Pity, most likely.
But there’s another problem. A bigger problem. This morning I woke up with a huge boner.
What’s more, it’s not the boner I used to have.
Oh, fuck no.
This is something else completely.
When I woke up, I realized my dick had changed. My erection stuck straight up, a good inch or so longer than before. When I pulled back the coverlet, I saw the skin drawn tight, the shaft mapped with veins, the head swollen and shaped more like a fleshy arrowhead than my human cock ever was.
But it was the huge swelling at the base that had me staring in shock.
Beneath it, my ball sac looked small in comparison.
I fingered my way gingerly to the base and squeezed. Waves of intense pleasure flooded through me.
And then I realized what was happening.
My wolf anatomy was overriding my human genitalia. Is that what had been happening when I lay sprawled between Tippy’s legs last night?
My arousal had certainly felt overpowering.
Holding my breath, I stroked up and down my cock, instinctively squeezing my knot.
Immediately, wildly inappropriate images of fucking Tippy—no, worse, rutting Tippy—flooded my brain.
I could almost feel my cock pounding into her while she squirmed and cried out ecstatically.
I let out a strangled groan as copious amounts of precum spilled onto my fingers; way more than my human cock ever produced.
The pleasure was infinitely more intense than jacking off my human cock. My fingers slid in the slick of my precum as I fisted my shaft aggressively, grunting as I felt the pleasure peaking.
The temptation to come was overwhelming.
But then I’d remembered where I was. On the couch in the sheriff’s house, with Otis’s mom likely to walk in with a plate of eggs and bacon at any moment.
That was enough to make my wolf dick wilt real fast.
But of course, I can’t tell Traggar any of this. It’s way too embarrassing.
“I thought wolves and wixens were arch enemies,” I croak instead.
To my surprise, Traggar just shrugs. “There’s a somewhat petty rivalry between wolves and wixens that’s been around since the rebellion. But in recent months, given the gravity of the situation we’re facing, Felicia and I have been working to put our differences aside.”
“Felicia— as in Tippy’s aunt?”
Traggar nods.
“I’ve never met her,” I mutter. That’s always been another thorn in my side: that Tippy has never introduced me to any of her family. Not that I ever asked, of course.
“Felicia is a mature and extremely wise wixen,” Traggar says. “We older generation see the sense in pooling our resources. Wolves and wixens will be more powerful working together than alone. So we’ve agreed on a deal.”
I sit back down. “What kind of deal?”
“To share the knowledge held in the Silver and Red books, so that we may strengthen the runes for when the final showdown happens.”
“And you think that is imminent?”
“Yes, the magic is quickening. And in that also lies danger. Identifying Marsha Winters as a malefic has made your mission even more risky, Jax.”
I suppress a shudder. The image of Marsha’s cruel, twisted features is still very clear in my mind.
“We need to strengthen the runes to keep you safe. And combining the knowledge in both books will hopefully do that.”
I frown. “In what way?” I’m really not across the runes at all. They are as weird as Otis’s computer systems. Two dusty old volumes full of weird hieroglyphics that have yet to prove themselves useful
“Take the portal cape, for example,” Traggar explains.
“The cape’s powers, like your wolf’s, are unstable.
It could land you in the wrong part of the Labyrinth or accidentally expose a body part if you make a sudden movement.
With the combined magic from both books, Felicia and I believe we can strengthen the runes sewn into the cape’s lining.
And in turn, Tippy will help you quit vaping.
A win-win.” He sits back, steeples his fingers and smiles, as if waiting for my response.
Lose-lose, more like. But I’m scuppered either way, aren’t I?
“Okay, okay. So when do I start taking this vile tasting shit?” I mutter.
“This weekend.”
“What the fuck!” I explode, then pull myself together. “I can’t quit in a weekend.”
“You don’t have a choice. We can’t delay the mission any longer Jax, you know that as well as I do. We have assigned you a den on the outskirts of our pack, a calm, quiet space.”
“So where’s Tippy staying?”
“In the den with you.”
I stare at him, horrified. “You have to be fucking joking.”
“We can’t have Tippy running backward and forward. She needs to focus on mixing potions. It will probably mean multiple doses a day.”
“Hell’s demons,” I mutter, wondering how the fuck I’m going to control my turbo-charged wolf dick.
Giving up vaping pales in comparison.
I swear I feel my wolf snickering in my belly.
Traggar’s expression is unreadable. “It’s not negotiable, Jax. I’ll leave it to you to explain the plan at the team meeting today.”
He stands and pats me on the back. “And you’ll have a whole weekend to apologize to Tippy.”
Shit. This is going to be torture on so many levels.
As I get up, I feel my wolf wagging its tail with lascivious glee. If I could punch it on the nose without also punching myself in the stomach, I would.
But then I think of a better way to get back at it.
As I leave Traggar’s den, I drag the vape from my pocket, put it to my lips and inhale deeply. My wolf coughs violently. The tickle in my throat is momentary, but I know my wolf will continue to suffer.
Sure enough, it wheezes pitifully.
Suck it up, asshole, I telepath. ‘Cos for the next twenty-four hours I’m going to vape our fucking brains out.
I’m in no better mood when I arrive back on level one. I grab my motorbike from outside the elevator and head for the sheriff’s offices in the center of town.
It’s my bi-weekly team meeting with Otis and the other monsters involved in the operation, and I’m not looking forward to their smirks when I tell them what’s happening this weekend.
In theory, it’s not so difficult to explain: I’m doing a quit-vaping intensive for three days. Overseen by Tippy, no big deal. I mean, she’s done this kind of work before, with Arlo for example, but that was to maintain a high sperm count.
I gulp.
Feels like my own sperm is backing up to my eyeballs. Maybe I should give in to the urge to jerk off, especially before the weekend. But that would be giving in to my wolf, and I fucking refuse to do that.
When I enter the meeting room, everyone is waiting.
I throw myself down on a chair and take in the assembled crew.
There’s Otis, of course, front and center.
And next to him, his deputy Tony, a small bright-eyed raccoon shifter.
And then there are the volunteer sheriffs, Kazmo, the lion shifter, and Brody, gods love the guy, the bear shifter who guards the Vault where all our artefacts are kept, including the portal cape.
And Silas, our resident boffin raven shifter, who is curator of the Vault.
I used to be nothing to them but Peripheral 101. But since I turned, they’ve also become my friends. We play poker on Friday nights at Digger’s. We all hang out regularly. They have my back, and I have theirs.
Friends.
Something I never had in all those years as a miserable programmed peripheral.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, I recall that I had friends when I was a kid. Before Mom disappeared, when Clem and I were just normal kids going to a normal school up in Sparkle. But that was so long ago. My human life is no more than a dream to me now.
And then it hits me, really hits me, at a gut level.
I am not human anymore. I am a werewolf. My home is here.
And so is my heart.
Suddenly, surrounded by all these monsters, I’m feeling emotional, almost tearing up. The task ahead is humongous, but I know I want to save my people.
And I need to stop being a churlish ass, suck it up and get off the vapes, even if being in close proximity to Tippy for the weekend is going to drive me nuts.
I clear my throat.
“I’ve just been with Traggar, discussing my readiness to undertake the mission next week.”
There’s restless movement. The boys are chafing at the bit to get on with the job, and I am stalling it. Correction: me bickering with my wolf is stalling it.
And vaping the crap out of the beast isn’t going to help.
I look at my boots, feeling guilty. “Unfortunately, my hypnotherapy sessions with Traggar have not gone to plan—my human and wolf psyches are struggling to get along. And I haven’t been able to stop this habit.” I bring out my vape and hold it up.
“Seems vaping is affecting my wolf’s wellbeing. And thus my—our—ability to safely undertake the mission.”
There’s silence, expectant eyes on me. Otis knows what’s going on here, but he’s the only one. He gives me an encouraging nod, and I haul in a breath. “So, Traggar has arranged a detox this weekend. Overseen by—” I feel heat creeping up my neck, and pause to contain myself, “erm, Tippy.”
There’s a ripple around the room. Surely not laughter? I eyeball each of them.
Kazmo’s handsome features remain impassive, but his golden eyes twinkle.
Silas scratches his head and avoids eye contact.
Brody, bless the goofy bear shifter, who wears everything on his fucking sleeve, grins his head off. “Haw, that’ll be interesting.” He chuckles.
Otis gives him the stink eye. “Enough. This is serious business.”
Brody can’t wipe the smirk off his face. “Oh c’mon, sheriff, we all know they just want to jump each other’s—”
Otis glares at him. “Enough!”
“Sorry, boss.” Brody composes his face, which is hard, because grinning is his default mode.
I slouch low in my chair, trying to look like I haven’t even heard, but my whole scalp is prickling with embarrassment.
“So, will the mission to go ahead as planned?” Silas asks coolly.
“Of course.” I jut my jaw. “Fait accompli.”
Otis jumps in with practicalities. “In the meantime, we will keep up surveillance of the portal elevators. We have deputies on all levels overseeing them. And we have the bad guys from level ten ready to unleash into the elevator space if any more human spies try to make their way down here. Personally, I think the authorities are licking their wounds, trying to work out what to do since we outsmarted their attempt to take Clem. They may suspect something is going on, but they have no evidence. We are still sending up munitions at the pace they request.”
“Which feels like signing our own death warrant,” Silas, ever the pessimist, grumbles. Trust a raven shifter to take the negative slant.
Otis inclines his head. “I can see how you would view it like that, Silas, but the humans are unlikely to use them on us in the near future. They don’t have a solution yet.
They can’t get to Sammy or her youngling—they are safe on level three with the Trojans guarding them.
The humans have no magic that will allow them to breathe Earth’s air—yet.
We know that much. And there are promising signs that the white magic is quickening.
So let’s be cautiously optimistic, shall we?
Meeting adjourned.” As everyone gets up to leave, Otis takes me aside.
“You gotta roll with this, Jax. This is stronger than you—or your wolf. Get out of your own way, because the magic will bulldoze you, regardless.”
I suddenly have the urge to tell him about the turmoil inside my head. Otis has been my loyal friend since I first came back to the Labyrinth after I was wolfen. In fact, it was Otis who got me out of here the night I was bitten and mauled. I trust him.
“Otis, mate, I, erm…” I blurt, raking a hand through my hair. “After the fuck-up at Bait and Tackle, I’m worried my wolf will… take control if Tippy and I are… alone together.” I feel hot all over and can’t look him in the eye. “You know what I mean.”
Otis’s lips twitch. “Maybe your wolf is not as big an asshole as you think.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Gods man, are you kidding? You witnessed the whole thing. My wolf made me behave like an absolute dick.” I wince at my word choice.
“I hesitate to say it, but maybe your wolf’s intuition is better than yours right now.”
I stare at him, horrified, but he just shrugs, a smile playing around his mouth.
“You know, when I tried to resist Clem, it proved to be a total waste of time. Our chemistry was off the charts. But when I finally gave in to the inevitable, that’s when things really changed. Being with Clem has made me stronger, more able to focus on my work. We’re good together.”
“You are,” I have to admit. “I’ve never seen my sister so happy.”
“Well…” Otis splays his big green hands in a gesture of supplication. “Maybe there’s a good reason that only Tippy can help you.”
“Like what?”
“This chemistry between you—maybe you need to roll with it, let it unfold, stop fighting your wolf the whole time.”
I’m speechless. I grope in my pocket for my vape. But for some reason, I stop. Withdraw my hand.
Otis thumps my arm with a big green hand. “Hmmm, you’ve got a lot stronger since you shifted.”
“Yeah, and that worries me too.”
“Your wolf won’t hurt Tippy. She’s more than a match for both of you.”
I stroke the scratch on my palm with my fingertips.
“Yeah,” I agree ruefully. “You might be right.”