Exiled 02 - Wolf Read online

  WOLF

  The Exiled 2

  Lynn Hagen

  EVERLASTING CLASSIC

  MANLOVE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Chapter One

  “What the hell.” Jaycee groaned as his car sputtered and then died. He carefully veered the vehicle to the curb as he began to curse up a storm, smacking the steering wheel in his angry tirade. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. “You’re not supposed to die. I just had you fixed.” He was practically whining at the hunk of junk as if it would sympathize with him and start up. He wasn’t holding his breath for that miracle, but it would have been nice.

  Jaycee had to scrape the money together for the repairs in the first place, and now this? There was no way he was working another three weeks of overtime for repair costs. His car was not getting another damn dime out of him.

  Frustrated, he climbed out of the car and walked around back, kicking the back tire in frustration. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

  He really wasn’t looking for his car to answer him, but yelling out loud made him feel better.

  Somewhat.

  Feeling irritated that his only mode of transportation was now an oversized paperweight, Jaycee reached in the car, pulled the hood lever, and then walked around to see what the problem was. As he held the hood up, he wondered what he was doing. He hadn’t a clue what he was looking at. What did he know about cars?

  Not a damn thing. But for some reason, looking under the hood made him feel like a solution was going to pop out at him.

  But it didn’t. He stared at a dirty motor and hadn’t a clue what was what. The only thing that looked familiar to him was the plastic container sitting off to the side of the engine that he poured washer fluid into occasionally.

  Growling, he let the hood drop back into place, hearing it smack closed as he walked around to the passenger side and grabbed his backpack from the front seat. It was only three blocks to the house he shared with two other men. It shouldn’t take him too long to get home on foot.

  Thankfully he was on his way home from work instead of the other way around. His boss was an asshole, and Jaycee hated to deal with the man on any basis.

  As he glanced at his car, Jaycee really didn’t want to leave it behind, but it was parked at the curb. There shouldn’t be any problem, unless one of the neighbors called to report an abandoned car outside their home.

  Gods, he hoped not. He didn’t need for his POS to be towed. That would only be another bill he couldn’t afford, and he wasn’t going to sink another dime into it. Jaycee contemplated leaving a note on the front windshield to let everyone know that he would be back for his car, but then that would also tell people that it was a heap of metal just sitting there.

  Maybe he could find someone to give him a jump later. Rico had a car. His roommate would probably help out, but with Rico, one never knew.

  Deciding against alerting anyone that his car was not running, Jaycee hiked the strap of his backpack onto his shoulder and headed home. After working ten hours, he’d rather not be walking, but he didn’t have any choice in the matter. His body ached and he wanted a hot shower desperately, but there wasn’t anything he could do about his situation. He was stuck walking, so he needed to stop mentally bitching about it and get moving if he ever wanted to get home. Pulling his iPod out, he shoved the earbuds in his ears and turned the music on.

  As he rounded the corner of the second block, Jaycee noticed a man leaning against a tree close to the curb. The man was just leaning there. It should have been no big deal. Maybe the guy was waiting for someone to pick him up. But the hairs on the back of Jaycee’s neck stood on end as he walked closer to the stranger.

  He tried to keep his eyes averted, but he could still feel the man’s stare boring into him. It was seriously creeping him out. Jaycee reached into his pocket and turned the music down once he passed the guy. He wasn’t sure why, but something told him he needed to be on full alert and aware of his surroundings.

  There was just something not right about the stranger leaning against the tree. Maybe it was all the dark clothes the stranger was wearing, or possibly the badass attitude the guy was projecting. Whatever it was, Jaycee heard the vibes loud and clear.

  Stay away.

  Jaycee picked up his pace a tad, suppressing the urge to full-out run. He was probably overreacting, and most likely was. He’d been known to freak out before. Jaycee was the type to freak the hell out first and then think things through once he had a meltdown. It was a flaw of his, one his mom tried to break him of for years, but Jaycee was who he was.

  Just because he tended to react first and think later didn’t mean he was going to ignore the feeling that danger was somewhere near. The feeling was like a wet blanket over him, making him aware of everything around him as the heavy, oppressing sensation of someone following him weighed him down.

  As his house came into view, Jaycee let out a relieved breath.

  He had been overreacting.

  Figures.

  He had let his imagination take flight and scare him into thinking that someone was after him. The man was no threat to him. He was almost home, and the stranger was nowhere in sight. Jaycee felt stupid for getting all worked up over nothing.

  His roommates always teased Jaycee that he had an overactive imagination. They said he scared easily and could turn something ordinary into a big hoopla. Jaycee had argued that they were the ones overreacting, but maybe they were right. He chuckled to himself, feeling like a total dweeb. What did he think would happen next, the Secret Service would pull up and kidnap him?

  Okay, so he had an overactive imagination. Sue him. It kept life from being boring, and there was nothing Jaycee hated more than being bored. And unfortunately, right now, his life was about as boring as it could get. He wasn’t a thrill seeker, but a little more action wouldn’t hurt to shake things up a bit.

  As he headed up the driveway, going around to the back of the house, Jaycee felt his backpack being ripped away from his shoulder. He spun around to see the stranger who had been leaning against the tree standing there snarling at him.

  Snarling? Who the hell snarled like a dog? It wasn’t normal. No human being should be able to make that sound. Jaycee knew this was not his imagination in overdrive. This guy was real, and looking as if he was about to take a big chunk out of Jaycee’s hide.

  Jaycee’s eyes widened as fear wrapped its claws tightly around his chest when he saw how utterly black the man’s eyes were. The irises looked like fathomless orbs that could suck him in if he stared too long. No one’s eyes should be that dark. The irises blended with the pupils, making it hard for Jaycee to tell where one ended and the other began.

  The stranger also had long, sharp teeth in his mouth. They reminded Jaycee of a dog’s canine teeth. The points were long, almost touching the man’s lower lips, telling Jaycee that this man was something other than human. That couldn’t be right. His imagination was running away with him at the wrong damn moment, but Jaycee couldn’t stop the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

  “What the hell are you?” he asked as he backed away, trying his best to make it to the back door without running. The door was only a few feet away, but felt like a mile in his current situation. His heart was beating so fast that Jaycee felt slightly light-headed.

  The man tossed Jaycee’s backpack across the lawn as he moved closer, his lips pulling up into a lecherous smile as he clasped his hands behind his back, leaning slightly forward. “You smell so damn good, human. My teeth are itching to take a bite out of you.”

  Human?

  Was the guy serious?

  Jaycee’s eyes shot toward the back door, wondering if he cou
ld make a break for it before the man could reach him. The guy was pretty fucking big, and Jaycee prayed the man’s weight slowed him down. Not that the guy was fat, just well built, large. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. What other option did he have? Jaycee wasn’t a fighter. He could defend himself if he had to, but he had a feeling that no amount of sheer will was going to help him in this situation. Taking a step in the direction he wanted to go, Jaycee shot forward, praying the damn back door was unlocked.

  He shouted when a searing pain shot through his arm, radiating up toward his shoulder and down his body, exploding shards of pain racking his left side. He looked down to see his shirt was torn open and there was a big gash on his arm. The injury was bleeding profusely, making Jaycee nauseous just looking at the open wound that showed tissue and bone.

  His vision slightly blurred, and Jaycee just knew he was going to pass out. He hated the sight of blood. Tissue and bone even more. It didn’t help that it was his own blood and glory hanging loose and spilling from his body.

  Jaycee raced for the door in a second attempt to get away. This guy was playing for keeps, and Jaycee wasn’t sure he would survive if he didn’t find a way to escape. He shouted in anger and fear when the knob wouldn’t turn. The door was locked! He pushed his hand into his front pocket and then remembered his key was in his backpack…halfway across the yard.

  Fuck!

  “There is no use running from me,” the man said as he moved closer, a look of triumph showing on his face.

  Jaycee felt like his life was over, as if there was no more hope left in the world. Misery unlike anything he had ever experienced before washed over him, making Jaycee want to give up and give in and let the man do whatever he wanted. Fear and doubt crept into his mind, telling Jaycee to just give himself over to the man. There was no use fighting a battle he couldn’t win.

  Jaycee shook his head to dispel those morose thoughts. He knew they weren’t right. He knew he couldn’t just throw in the towel. He didn’t give up and he wasn’t a quitter. So why did he feel as though all hope was lost?

  His eyes locked onto the long fingernails protruding from the man’s fingers and knew how he had been sliced open. They were black and sharp looking, lethal in every sense of the word and dripping with Jaycee’s blood. He reached up and covered his bleeding arm, moving away from the back door, trying desperately to get to his key. He could feel the warmth of his blood seeping through his fingers and trailing down his hand, but there wasn’t anything he could do until he got away.

  He had been looking for a little more action in his life, but damn, this was overkill.

  Jaycee was light-headed, becoming dizzy. Grey spots were spreading across his vision, making Jaycee blink repeatedly to stay alert as he spotted two even larger men coming up his driveway.

  This was it.

  He was about to die.

  The stranger had reinforcements, and there was no way Jaycee could fight off one man, let alone three.

  Jaycee felt a whimper escape his mouth as his knees began to wobble. He was going down and there was no way to stop it. He was losing too much blood. The only regret he had at that moment was not finding out who the man was and why he had attacked Jaycee. He had never done anything to anyone to warrant his own death. Well, he did lie about being sick last week so he could call off of work, but that wasn’t a damn death sentence.

  His boss was a prick, but not even Herbert would spend the cash to hire a hit man for a call off. Oh hell, he was babbling in his mind. That couldn’t be a good sign. Jaycee blinked a few more times, trying his best to stay upright. His plan wasn’t working out so well when his vision swam before his eyes.

  As the new arrivals came into the backyard, one of them began fighting the stranger who had attacked Jaycee while the other headed Jaycee’s way. He didn’t have the energy to fight the man. Jaycee was weak and getting weaker by the second. The only thing he could do was pray his death was quick and painless. A good snap to the neck should remedy any torture, but the man heading his way was so broad and large that Jaycee doubted he was going to like this.

  As darkness started to cloud his vision, Jaycee’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body cold as ice as he began to fall toward the ground.

  Wolf caught the human before he hit the ground, pulling him close as he tried to examine the injury on the man’s left arm. But Wolf didn’t get too far in his examination when his entire body began buzzing and his wings started fluttering as he glanced down at the unconscious man in his arms.

  Wolf couldn’t believe he was holding his mate so close, someone he thought never to find.

  After so many centuries of being alone, of wishing he had someone to share his lonely existence with, he finally had his mate at his side. Wolf had someone to share his life with, and someone to keep him warm in bed. It was like a dream come true. So why did he feel scared as fuck looking down at the man? This should be a joyous occasion, but the only thing he could feel at the moment was apprehension and fear.

  The human’s head lolled to the side as Wolf picked the stranger up into his arms, holding him close to his chest. He could see blood spreading and soaking the man’s shirt, dripping from the human’s arm. It was leaving his body quickly, and Wolf felt panicked that he wouldn’t save his zaterio in time.

  From the look of the wound, Wolf couldn’t tell if his mate had been bitten or scratched. It could be both, but Wolf was praying that the injury was caused by the hound’s claw, not his teeth. A hell dweller’s bite was poisonous, lethal to humans. Wolf felt a hole forming in his chest and a heaviness fill him at the thought of losing his mate before he even got to know who the man was.

  “What are you doing?” Tyson, another of the winged beasts and the man he was patrolling the streets of Pride Pack Valley with, asked after he finally stabbed the hound in his mark.

  A hound could die. It wasn’t impossible. They had a dark mark behind their left ear. If stabbed there, and then burned, the hound would die and return to hell. The trick was outsmarting the hound and getting a decent shot at the mark. The hounds knew their weakness and protected the area around their ear with vengeance.

  “Taking strays home now?” Tyson teased as he wiped the hound’s nasty black blood from his blade onto the grass and then resheathed the sharp weapon.

  “Grab the hound. We don’t want Theo having a fit if you burn him here,” Wolf said, ignoring Tyson’s question and comment. Theo was their commander’s mate. Theo had argued that burning a body in town was a very bad thing.

  Wolf didn’t understand why it was a bad thing, but he wasn’t about to argue with Nazaryth’s mate over something he found trivial.

  If a hound was only stabbed, and not burned afterward, the creature could get back up again. That was some scary shit. It only made him want to burn the body on sight, but he knew he couldn’t. “I’ll meet you at home.”

  “Thanks for leaving me with the dead one,” Tyson grumbled.

  Wolf glanced around to make sure no one was looking before he took flight. Humans couldn’t see a winged beast’s five-foot expansion of wings. So it would just look like a man was flying in the air. It made for some heavy conversation on a therapist’s couch for anyone who spotted them.

  Wolf held on to his mate tightly as he flew toward the castle built into the side of a mountain. He had to get his zaterio back to his home where Wolf could tend to the man’s wound and keep an eye on him for any sign of fever.

  If a fever developed, Wolf would know his mate was bitten.

  Gods, he prayed no fever formed.

  He knew that Theo had been bitten and it had taken hours for the fever to appear. But again, Theo was a shifter. It was different for everyone. His mate was human, so Wolf hadn’t a clue what to expect. He could only hold out on the hope that his mate hadn’t been bitten, but scratched, because if he didn’t hang on to that one thread of hope, Wolf didn’t have anything else to hang on to. A zaterio was a chosen one for a winged beast. The only
mate they would ever receive. Their chosen ones were made specifically for them. If his mate didn’t survive this, neither would Wolf.

  Wolf knew that the chances of a human surviving a bite by a hound were slim to none.

  The bites were poisonous and nasty as hell. He had witnessed what Theo had gone through. Black foam had oozed from the shifter’s pores, burning anything in its wake. And the smell of brimstone and sulfur had been noxious. The poison had Theo screaming and writhing so badly that Nazaryth had to hold Theo down. That was what their commander had told them, and Wolf knew his zaterio wouldn’t survive that. Theo was a shifter.

  His mate was not.

  Landing gently and easily on the balcony of the castle, Wolf walked through the palace and headed straight for his bedroom. He saw the eyes of the other winged beasts on him, curious expressions on their faces. He wasn’t going to stop to answer questions. His mate needed to lie down, and Wolf needed to pace.

  Pacing never helped Wolf solve anything, but it was a distraction he needed desperately right about now.

  Laying the fragile human on his bed, Wolf brushed back his mate’s long fringes of black hair, noticing for the first time that the man had a goatee. He also had a generous mouth, aquiline nose, and the set of his chin hinted at a stubborn streak. His fingers traced over his mate’s face, taking in his straight forehead and thick eyebrows.

  Wolf studied his mate a moment longer and then walked to the adjoining bathroom to grab some gauze. He took a moment to pull himself together. Wolf felt a total wreck right now. His inside were coiled so tight he just knew he would fall apart at any second. Just because he was a winged beast didn’t mean he had an endless supply of strength. Even the strongest collapsed under such pressures and worries.

  Blowing out a deep breath, Wolf walked back into his bedroom and carefully ripped the rest of the shirtsleeve off, checking the injury on the man’s arm and seeing the long gash from shoulder to elbow. He wasn’t sure if it was just a cut or if a bite was hiding somewhere in the open wound. It was horrendous looking, and Wolf had to swallow past the lump in his throat when he saw bone and tissue. The hound had done one nasty-ass number on his mate. If the bastard wasn’t dead already, Wolf would have hunted him down and tortured the hound slowly.