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Poor Nicky had been so lost when Marco dissolved their mating. Logan had given him money and helped him run away, even though it had broken his heart to lose him. Ian knew about it, of course, but he kept his secrets, his ultimate loyalty to his mate.
Ian’s mind drifted back to a happier memory—back again to the previous day when Logan had walked toward him after his shift, a huge smile wreathing his face. “What are you thinking about over here? You seem a million miles away.”
“Just wool gathering. Nothing to worry about. So are you all done here?”
“Yes, thank God. It’s hot work.”
Ian laughed softly. “I guess you’re ready for a shower then before we eat.”
“Or…” Ian stepped up close to him and leaned up to offer his lips. Ian brushed them with his own and settled a hand on his hip, unable not to touch him when he was this close.
“Or you could come skinny dipping with me in the stream.” Ian said, smiling seductively up at him. “The cold water would feel wonderful on a day like this. Come on, go with me.”
Logan grabbed the hand off his hip and tugged him toward the woods. A small stream ran down the mountain close to the lodge. Streams proliferated the mountain really, and you never had to travel far to find one. The one Logan was talking about wasn’t deep enough to swim in, but you could sit down in it and let it wash over you. The water coming out of the mountain would be icy cold, but undoubtedly feel wonderful as hot as it was. Besides, it offered an opportunity to get Logan naked even sooner, so the idea was definitely appealing.
“Let’s go,” he’d said and followed Logan into the woods. It didn’t take long to reach the stream, splashing down the rocks, twisting and flirting its way down the mountain. Logan started shucking his clothes as soon as it came in view, leaving pieces of it trailing along behind him, a sock draping over a fern here and his underpants thrown down beside a rhododendron there. By the time he reached the stream and sank down in the water he was gloriously naked and Ian sat down on a rock beside the stream to admire him.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Logan said, laughing up at him. “Come in here with me. It feels wonderful.”
“It feels like ice water, and I don’t believe I’m that hot at the moment.”
“Old man,” Logan teased.
“I’m only a few years older than you,” Ian huffed. “Well, in human years, that is.”
“Uh huh. Prove it.”
Ian growled, but stood up and took off his clothes. He could feel Logan’s warm gaze on him as he stripped, taking in his huge erection with a little smile playing around his lips.
The first step into the frigid stream was a shock, and made him rethink the whole thing, but as he turned to get out, Logan caught hold of his hand and pulled him down beside him. As the water splashed around his hips, it took his breath—and any ideas about erections—far away from him.
“Damn it!” he shouted and instinctively tried to rise, but Logan threw himself into his lap, holding him down. Ian simply wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist and picked him up, Logan’s legs wrapping around him as he climbed out onto the bank and lowered Logan to the ground.
“No fair,” Logan called out, laughing, as Ian settled down beside him and pulled him on top of him. Logan wiggled free and fell down on his back, still smiling. “No, I want to get cooled off,” he protested.
“I wanted to get you hot,” Ian said, smiling at him and Logan gazed down along Ian’s body. Ian watched his face as he took in every detail, lingering over his cock, which was trying valiantly to rally itself after the shock of the cold water. With a big grin, Logan leaned over Ian’s groin.
His lips set up a steady pressure, as his velvet tongue slid up and down the skin of Ian’s sensitive shaft, sometimes stopping at the head to nibble or slip down into his slit. Ian writhed beneath him, quickly becoming almost mindless as he gave in to the pleasure. Ian looked up into Logan’s eyes, letting him feel the connection. Logan touched Ian’s hair, threading his fingers through it. Ian squeezed his fists, praying to hold on, loath to lose this kind of pleasure. His balls tightened, and he felt a tingling at the base of his spine. Ian was breathing rapidly by now, trying to hang on, and he just might have made it if Logan hadn’t pulled off a little and licked slowly up his shaft, swirling his tongue over the head. He threw back his head and screamed. Logan pulled off with a little plop and put his other hand around the base of Ian’s cock, squeezing tightly and stopping his orgasm.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he whispered. “You have to go swimming with me first. Then we play.”
“And you and Nicky call us evil wolf bastards.”
“Oh you are, baby,” Logan said, smiling down at him, still gripping his cock. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be evil too.”
Ian was still smiling at the memory of that day, as he tried again to look up the path in the rapidly dwindling light. It would be twilight soon, and where in the world were Logan and Nicky? Where was Marco for that matter? Ian began to get a very bad feeling about all this and he got restlessly to his feet, praying for a glimpse of Logan coming back down the trail.
He heard the shouting first, and froze for a second as his heart thumped loudly in his chest. He turned and ran as fast as he could toward the voices. He saw two of his patrol running flat out down the mountain toward him, and even from a distance, Ian could see their faces were blanched of color. As got closer, he could hear what they were yelling. “The Hunters are on the mountain! The alpha’s been shot!”
* * * *
Nothing registered at first when the bullet slammed into Marco. It made him jerk and stumble back, and when he looked over at Nicky, he saw his beautiful face freeze in terror. Tears filled up and then drowned his blue eyes, but even then Marco co
uldn’t quite figure out what had happened. He looked down and saw the spreading blood stain on his shirt and still felt very little pain.
Shock, he thought dimly. He tried to open his mouth to say something comforting to Nicky, something to calm him down, but nothing came out of his throat but a low, guttural moan. Then he had the sensation of falling, but he never felt the impact when he hit the rock he’d been standing on. Marco was actually kind of numb, though he could smell his own blood and an acrid burning smell that made him feel ill. There was lots of blood, come to think of it. Who was it that said nothing in life was so exhilarating as to be shot at without result?
But Marco was hit. Tate had gotten the result he was aiming for. Though he couldn’t get his eyes open anymore, Marco saw little flashes of lights going off behind his eyelids. He couldn’t hear much either, not even the sound of rushing water that had been so loud just seconds before. Wait, there it was—or was that a roaring in his ears?
