Jacks, Marcy - The Hunter's Omega Mate [DeWitt's Pack 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

DeWitt's Pack 2

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

When Tristan Scott ran away from his pack to avoid the roving eye
of a cruel alpha, he never expected to save the life of Isaac Foster
as he was drowning in the river, nor did he think the gorgeous
man with purple eyes would be his mate, or a hunter of
werewolves.

Isaac has hunted werewolves ever since watching his family being
murdered as a kid. He hasn't had time for relationships, but
there's something about Tristan he can't get enough of.

Their easy time together is shattered when they're attacked and
Tristan is forced to transform to defend them. Isaac cannot believe
it, and threatens to kill Tristan should the two ever meet again.

But meet they do. They cannot separate themselves from each
other, regardless of their enemy status, and soon they must
decide whether or not a hunter really can love a werewolf without
it jeopardizing both of their lives.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal,
Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 23,624 words

THE HUNTER’S OMEGA MATE

DeWitt’s Pack 2

Marcy Jacks

EVERLASTING CLASSIC

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove

THE HUNTER’S OMEGA MATE
Copyright © 2012 by Marcy Jacks
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-515-1

First E-book Publication: October 2012

Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED:  This  literary  work  may  not  be
reproduced  or  transmitted  in  any  form  or  by  any  means,  including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in  whole or in  part, without
express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If  you  have  purchased  this  copy  of  The  Hunter’s  Omega  Mate  by
Marcy  Jacks  from  BookStrand.com  or  its  official  distributors,  thank
you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or
group  has  resale  rights,  auction  rights,  membership  rights,  sharing
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The  author  and  the  publisher  work  very  hard  to  bring  our  paying
readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This  is  Marcy Jacks’s livelihood.  It’s fair and simple. Please respect
Ms. Jacks’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

THE HUNTER’S OMEGA

MATE

DeWitt’s Pack 2

MARCY JACKS

Chapter One

Fuck ’em all.
Tristan repeated the words inside his head until it became the

mantra he marched to as he walked away from his pack forever, bag
slung over his shoulder and the sun on his neck.

He actually felt pretty good, considering the way his hands were

shaking and stomach churning. He never thought he’d be driven to
leave his pack, his family, before, but there was no way in hell he was
going to be part of that prick’s harem just to settle some old rivalries.
Deacon could get hit by a bus for all Tristan cared, and the stupid land
he and James were constantly fighting for could burn, and Tristan
wouldn’t shed a tear.

Okay, maybe he was a little pissed off. He didn’t want to be an

abandoner, but if the choice was between leaving his pack and
becoming one of Deacon’s man whores or just leaving the pack, well,
Tristan didn’t have to think too long on which he would prefer.

Tristan knew James, his alpha—or well, former alpha at this

point—would never ask him to go, but the attacks had been getting
worse, more desperate and violent, and every time someone got hurt,
Tristan could practically see the wheels turning in James’s head,

Marcy Jacks

wondering if keeping one omega safe was worth the broken bones and
spilled blood from the rest of his pack.

So Tristan packed up and left an hour before dawn, officially

taking the burden from James’s shoulders, and now he was free like
the wind. He walked along the water’s edge of the river, kicking rocks
away  with  his  orange  flip-flops.  If  James  or  someone  else  from  his
pack decided to come looking for him, they would expect him to walk
along  the  water  to  keep  his  scent  out  of  the  air.  Tristan  didn’t  mind
that so much. It was being found by a member of Deacon’s pack that
he  was  worried  about.  They  wouldn’t  know  he’d  left,  but  Tristan
didn’t  want  his  scent  floating  around  just  in  case  one  of  those  flea-
ridden goons happened to be in the area.

A wandering omega was pretty much open season for any

werewolf to claim if they wanted, and Tristan would prefer to avoid
that until he came upon some human civilization. He’d go a few
towns over, make some money doing a couple of odd jobs, and maybe
find a place to live with the humans.

At least it was a beautiful day.

* * * *

Fuck ’em all, Isaac Foster thought as he spotted his rifle, sitting

innocently enough on top of two crossed tree branches, which
stretched out dangerously over the running water.

It was like a skeletal hand that held what he wanted but was

playing a cruel game of keep-away with him.

Isaac and the others were here to hunt wolves, not dick around

with each other.

The water was calm enough, but it was dark, suggesting how deep

it really was, and the way it sounded as it moved on by suggested how
powerful that current really was.

Isaac should have never told those idiot motherfuckers that he was

afraid of the water.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

There was a cackle of laughter behind him and an overly loud

hoot.

It was like dealing with a bunch of goddamn frat boys. He was the

new  guy in  their  group  with  the least  amount of experience, brought
in  mostly  for  the  sake  of  adding  numbers  and  strength  to  their
mission. Just  for  that,  he  was  the  one  who  had  to  deal  with  this  shit
the most, handling these stupid pranks until he proved himself.

“If that falls in the water one of you idiots are replacing it!”
More laughter in the distance. The guys were all content to sit

around their breakfast fire, pretending no one had a hand in Isaac’s
predicament, all the while listening closely for the sounds of his
enraged cursing.

Fucking frat boys. Isaac was actually the youngest out of the lot of

them.

He took off his holster that held his handgun and got to work on

climbing  the  gray-looking  tree,  trying  not  to  think  too  hard  about
whether  it  could  actually  even  hold  his  weight.  One  of  those  other
idiots  had gotten it up there  and  come back down safe enough, after
all.

Isaac had no problem with heights, so making it to the heavy

branch that stretched out long and far, holding his rifle, was not a
problem.

The world only began to spin once he started to crawl along the

branch, and he found himself looking down at the deep, dark, black-
blue  running  water  beneath  him.  His  palms  began  to  sweat,  and  he
had to  lay his  body  flat  against the branch he held,  holding his  arms
tight around it, even though the rough bark scratched at his skin  and
face.

Christ almighty.
There was a long shout from the campfire several yards away.

“Need someone to come and help you?”

Would have been a nice offer if the tone hadn’t been so mocking.
“Fuck off!” Isaac yelled back. Then he told himself to stop being

Marcy Jacks

such a pussy and just keep going. He was only five feet away.

He got back to his hands and knees and started the slow process

again, keeping his eyes firmly on target, ignoring the dizzying swirl of
sky and water at the corner of his eyes.

Just get the gun, get back to land, and your equilibrium will go

back to normal, he told himself.

Finally he was there, and even though everything in his peripheral

vision still looked like the Van Gogh painting Starry Night, he smiled
wide as he reached his hand out and—

The crack and sudden shift of the branch he was clinging to threw

his guts into his throat the split second before the sensation of falling,
with nothing below to catch him, surrounded him, powerful as
gravity, and he splashed into the water and disappeared into the
depths.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Two

Tristan was just about to deviate away from the water when the

path leading into town came upon him, when a gurgled half scream
sounded from up the river, travelling down at high speeds.

He spun, not exactly knowing what it was he’d expected, but

definitely not what he saw.

There was a man splashing around in the water, and he didn’t look

like he was having fun. The current had him in its dark grasp, and he
was tumbling around, searching for the way out with little success.

It kind of made Tristan think of a sock spinning in a washing

machine.

This guy was going to drown if Tristan didn’t do anything, and as

the flailing man was pushed along through the current, Tristan
dropped his bag, kicked off his flip-flops, and ran for him.

“Hang on!” he screamed, not exactly knowing why, or if the man

could even hear him.

The man’s dark head was barely making it above the water for

sips of air before he finally went under and stayed there. Tristan could
still follow him. He knew this river pretty well and was smart enough
to know that just because the guy had disappeared didn’t mean his
body had stopped travelling along with the current.

He ripped off his T-shirt and awkwardly jumped out of his shorts

right before letting his wolf out. Tristan always could run faster on
four legs, and the wind whipped through his fur in strong gusts as he
pumped his legs.

He didn’t have to run for much longer. He made long leaps into

the darker stretches of water until he was doing the doggy paddle in

Marcy Jacks

the general direction he’d seen the man in. About the center of the
river.

He was wet, his sopping fur adding to the weight of his body as

the waters splashed and fought against him, but his wolf form was not
only faster, it was stronger, and Tristan managed to swim on, keeping
his long snout out of the water with only minimal struggle.

He still couldn’t find the guy. Where the hell was he? Had he

drowned? Tristan didn’t want to leave the water, abandoning someone
to die unless he was absolutely sure there was nothing more he could
do, but his limbs were growing tired and heavy. He wouldn’t be able
to swim back to the bank if he stayed in the water for much longer,
and he would need to make the choice within seconds. Right now,
actually.

Finally the head of the drowning victim was pushed up and out of

the water long enough for Tristan to zero in on it, and he paddled like
he never paddled before. Just as the body vanished within the water
once more, Tristan took a deep breath and dove under. He was never
really good at seeing underwater, and in a current like this, there was
no point in keeping his eyes open anyway. Practically blind and deaf
for all the good his eyes and ears were, Tristan used his body to
determine where the guy had sunk to.

His paws slashed against something that didn’t feel like rock, and

he opened his jaws, clamping down on what felt like cotton material.
It was thick and not quite baggy.

He’d grabbed at a pocket in the man’s pants.
Good enough.
Tristan swam and swam, clawing his way to the surface of the

water with his prize in his mouth. His throat burned, lungs expanding
as they fought to take in air that was not there, right before—

Yes! Finally! He broke through the skin of the river and inhaled

deeply through his nose, only getting some water up there—God, he
hated that feeling—before he paddled his way back to the bank.

If it had been hard to swim before, that was nothing now that he

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

had the leg of what was probably a two-hundred-pound male in his
mouth.

He dragged the limp body back to shore. The second he felt the

stones under his paws, Tristan made the shift into his human form. He
was naked and cold as hell now, but he grabbed the man by the leg
with his now-human hands, and dragged him up and out of the water,
laying him down on the wet beach.

Tristan was naked, but this guy most certainly was not. He didn’t

even look dressed for swimming, more like a stroll in the woods.
Everything he wore was cotton, which likely hadn’t helped his
inability to swim with those heavy wet garments pulling him under.

Tristan ripped the maroon T-shirt he wore down the middle,

revealing what was actually a very nicely sculpted chest.

He put his ear to that chest, right where the heart should be.
It was still beating, but Tristan heard no movement in the lungs.
At least now he knew what to do.
Tristan turned the guy over onto his stomach and pressed against

his back, watching as the water trickled out of his mouth where it had
been trapped in the lungs.

Still no shallow breaths coming out of him.
The next move became clear. Tristan turned the man onto his

back, lifted his head just enough to straighten the neck, pinched his
nose, and blew a strong breath of air into his mouth.

He hadn’t expected it to work on the first try and was shocked

when the guy coughed and sputtered water into Tristan’s mouth.

Gross.
He coughed and gagged, sucking back air in gasping half breaths

that made Tristan worry for him.

He finally must have gotten all the water out of his lungs, because

his breathing became calm and normal, and he opened his eyes to
show Tristan the most beautiful color he had ever seen in a man’s
eyes.

They almost looked purple. In fact, they really were a light shade

Marcy Jacks

of purple. Tristan didn’t think they could be contacts, if that was the
case, at least one of them would have come out during the stranger’s
swim.

They looked real all right. Even the man’s hair was an interesting

shade of dark, reddish brown. Tristan squinted, and he was sure there
were some black strands in there, too.

The trip in the water made them look kind of spikes, and Tristan

had to fight the urge to not run his fingers through it, examine it, and
see if they were soft or coarse hairs.

The purple-eyed man blinked up at him, then looked down his

body.

Oh, right. He was completely naked. And freezing. His body felt

tight with the cold, and thank God for that. If it had been warm water,
he would probably be sporting an erection right now.

Beautiful Stranger didn’t comment on Tristan’s nudity, though, as

he lifted his head just enough to get a look at the water of the river,
still rushing forward as though nothing had happened.

Mother Nature could be inconsiderate like that.
Purple Eyes let his head fall back against the rocks, and he rubbed

his face with his hand. “Thank you,” he said.

Tristan couldn’t bring himself to move out of the man’s personal

space. He couldn’t stop himself from just staring, wishing the guy
would move his hand so he could get another look at those eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Three

“Camping?”
Isaac held his steel-toe hiking boots upside down, watching

miserably as the water trickled out and onto the damp rocks beneath
him. He was soaked, and that beautiful guy behind him had only just
found his shorts on the bank of the river. They were both walking up,
against the current, searching for the rest of his clothes.

Tristan had said he’d pulled them off to keep them from weighing

him down as he swam after him. Isaac wasn’t much for swimming or
knowing the basic rules about it, aside from not eating right before
jumping in, so even though it had seemed a little strange, the guy had
saved his life, so he wasn’t about to question it.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, doing his best not to look at Tristan and recall

how tanned his thighs had been when he was naked. “I was out with
some friends, and, long story short, I found myself in a tree before it
snapped and I went under.”

Tristan’s neck clenched up. “Yeesh, that’s harsh. They must be

looking for you by now, though.”

If they were, it was probably just because they wanted to head out

and needed the guns back that Isaac had had on him before he went
in.

The rifle was lost forever, but the two Glocks in his holster were

still by the tree. The guys would pick those up and leave, most likely.

If their prank had killed one of their own, they would mourn him

for a solid two minutes before getting back to work.

Hunters weren’t exactly known for loyalty in their own teams. In

fact, this was the third team Isaac had ever been with, and they were

Marcy Jacks

by far the most well balanced.

For a group of mercenaries who liked playing death games.
“I doubt it. They probably think I went for a walk,” he added at

Tristan’s odd look.

Isaac cleared his throat and pointed. “That your bag?”
Tristan sighed. “Yes, thank God.”
He jogged ahead and bent over to pick up the faded green duffel.

Isaac tried, and failed, to not look at his ass as he bent over.

Christ, this guy looked tight. Made Isaac wonder what he did to

keep his body looking like that. Probably played sports. Most normal
guys his age did.

A bright pair of flip-flops were not too far behind, and Tristan

slipped his feet into them, too, before coming back.

“The river must’ve taken my T-shirt, but that’s okay,” he said,

digging into his bag and pulling out a button-down plaid. “You want
me to walk you back to your camp?” he asked, shrugging into the
shirt but not bothering with buttoning it up.

He asked it like Isaac needed an escort or something.
“Uh, no, I’m okay. Hey, where’re you heading?” he asked, not

wanting to risk that they were heading in the same direction. If Isaac
went back to his team, and Tristan was heading that way, too, it could
spell some pretty big trouble for the kid if he were to see all those
men and the heat they were packing.

Isaac had so far never seen, nor had he ever taken part in, the

killing of civilians, but he knew it was something that happened on
occasion in order to protect the secrecy of the hunters.

He didn’t want that for Tristan.
“I’m heading for town,” he said, pointing in the direction they’d

just come from, shrugging the bag over his shoulder.

“Oh. Do you live there?” Maybe he could drop in and take Tristan

out for a coffee or something after his mission was done with.

“No,” Tristan shook his head, a smile on his lips, as though he

knew what Isaac had been thinking. “I’m just passing through.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Moving, actually.”

“Moving?” Isaac eyed the bag over Tristan’s shoulder. “Where’s

the rest of your stuff?” Or even a car or moving van for that matter.
Why walk?

“Uh…” This was where Tristan looked away, biting his lips, as

though trying to figure out what to say.

And just like that, Isaac felt like a complete asshole. Tristan was

most likely a drifter or a runaway.

Isaac was hesitant to think of him as homeless, he certainly didn’t

look like someone who spent time on the streets, but if there was
some camping gear of his own, sleeping bags and whatnot in that
duffel he carried, then it was a possibility he just knew how to live off
the land.

Thank God, Tristan had said when he found it.
“Y’know what, never mind. Sorry it wasn’t my business.”
“It’s okay. I just don’t keep a lot of things, but I am looking for a

place in one of the towns over.”

Whether he was lying or not, Isaac couldn’t tell. “How ’bout I

walk you into town?” he offered.

Tristan’s dark-blond brows went up.
“Just to see you safely back. I’ll buy you breakfast.”
Tristan smiled at him. “Not that the idea of being taken to

breakfast by a guy like you isn’t appealing or anything, but I have
money. You don’t have to do that.”

With a start, Isaac knew that it wasn’t pity he was doing this for.

He just didn’t want to say goodbye to Tristan just yet.

He was the first normal guy he’d spoken to in a long while,

handsome, and, if Isaac had heard that right, also attracted to him, and
Isaac just wanted to stick around for a little longer.

“It’s not that. You saved my life. I have my wallet on me, and I

want to take you out to breakfast for it.”

Tristan made another sound, suggesting he was torn between

accepting and finding a suitable excuse to decline.

Marcy Jacks

It was always that kind of response that meant just a little more

prodding was needed to get the response Isaac wanted. “Come on,
meat lovers breakfast with me across the table, that’s not so bad.”

Tristan’s smile showed off his white, perfectly straight teeth.

“Okay. You had me at meat lovers.”

“All right.” The giddy butterflies in Isaac’s stomach were

probably a little much, he couldn’t really be that excited, but he was
definitely feeling good as he put his arm around Tristan’s firm
shoulder and walked back toward town.

“You really shouldn’t be walking out here by yourself anyway,”

Isaac said, thinking of the werewolves he was hunting. “There’s wild
animals all over the place.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Four

“Where would he go?” Corey asked, looking around the empty

room.

James had an idea, but he didn’t dare speak it out loud. For one,

he could be wrong, and two, if he was right, the last thing he wanted
was for his mate to have that information.

Better he not know so he wouldn’t have to lie if Deacon were to

send someone to ask.

“Wherever he went, he left for us.”
“What?” Corey was still new to being a werewolf. He didn’t

understand the thinking of some of his fellow wolves just yet.

James surveyed the room. It was not bare, by any stretch of the

imagination. The bed had been made, and most of what was in the
closet and drawers had been left behind, but the little radio Tristan
kept was gone, as were enough of his clothes and supplies for James
to notice they were missing.

Tristan was leaving with the intention of not coming back.
“Tristan left so that Deacon will have no reason to attack us

anymore. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want us to talk
him out of it, and he didn’t stay because he doesn’t want to put
pressure on me to ask him to accept Deacon’s offer.”

“But you wouldn’t do that!” Corey said then looked twice up at

his mate. “Would you?”

That old insecurity again, brought on by his lack of knowledge in

the way a pack worked. “Of course not. Some pack alphas would,
though. Maybe he just didn’t want to risk it.”

“He knows how this works better than I do. He wouldn’t think

Marcy Jacks

you would make him go,” Corey insisted.

That’s what James loved about his mate. Corey always had his

back, even when James was needlessly putting angst on himself.

James sighed. Either way, this was not something he wanted to

happen, especially with the threat of hunters still looming in the air.

A couple of weeks ago, Corey’s ex-boyfriend, a hunter by the

name of Dean Lefroy, had tried to kill him, and when James killed the
insane man instead, Lefroy’s last act of revenge had been to
laughingly inform James that he had called other hunters to tell them
of the location of James’s pack.

Everyone on the land James cared for was still on edge, waiting

for the attack to come.

So far, nothing, but James would keep vigilant. He would not risk

that Lefroy had just been lying for the sake of making James lose
some sleep at night.

No, he’d been telling the truth, but now everyone in the pack,

James included, was getting antsy, waiting for the attack to come. It
was becoming a mild form of torture in of itself.

Then Deacon had to show up and start making his idiot claims to

the land.

There were two other packs living within a twenty-mile radius of

James’s pack. That wasn’t common, but James was on good terms
with one. Visiting the alpha of that pack and his newborn son had
even been the reason he had met Corey.

Deacon, however, was insisting on making a pain in the ass of

himself.

Though James had signed papers to prove his ownership of the

land his pack lived on, Deacon was attempting to lay claim to no less
than twenty acres of it, including a nice-sized pond that the pups
enjoyed playing in.

James wasn’t sure what exactly it was that was giving Deacon the

impression that he owned the land, other than his sheer insistence on
it, but one day, James had decided to break the ice and invite the guy

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

and several of his men over to talk like civilized werewolves.

That had been a mistake.
Deacon had taken one look at Tristan, and with a barked, “You,

come!” he summoned him over.

As an omega, Tristan had been nearly powerless against the

command and had done as he was told.

James could still remember the prickle of annoyance he felt

climbing his spine when Deacon had put his hands on Tristan, feeling
his neck, shoulders, and arms, as though testing his strength and
health.

All the while Tristan had been looking at James, both men

wondering what the hell the guy was doing.

Finally, after James cleared his throat and asked just that

question, Deacon grunted, nodded, and made his proposal.

Tristan had stumbled away from the man like he was the scariest

thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and James had immediately denied him
the trade and told him to fuck off.

Deacon had sent wolves to attack three times since then, and with

the threat of hunters coming, injured fighters were the last thing
James needed.

Tristan had seen that and gone. James wished he wouldn’t feel so

damn grateful for that, but he couldn’t help it.

“Mick?”
“Yes, sir?”
Mickey, James’s best friend and beta, was always nearby.
“Do you know where I keep my banking information?”
“Yes, sir,” Mick answered, his voice clearly conveying he didn’t

know why James would ask.

“Okay, good. Log in to my account and transfer five thousand into

Tristan’s account.”

“Whoa,” Corey said.
“Five—can we afford that, James?” Mick asked.
“We’ll be fine.” James took Corey’s hand and led them out of

Marcy Jacks

Tristan’s room. James would keep it the way it was for a few days, a
week at the most, just in case he decided to come back, but after a
time, they would need it so that their injured could have a bed to sleep
in.

“James, what’s the money for?” Corey asked softly as they made

it outside.

Christ, James needed the air. That always helped him to think. He

needed fresh air and a good run, and if Corey was up for it, a good
fuck, too.

“Tristan has some money, but not a lot. The five grand will buy

him some food and medicine when he needs them, transportation, and
if he watches it right, first and last month’s rent if he finds somewhere
inexpensive to live.”

“Will he be okay on his own? I mean, being a wolf and all,”

Corey said.

James was already stripping out of his shirt and pants. Seeing

what his mate was doing and knowing where he was going, Corey
began doing the same.

“Tristan’s an omega were. His wolf will be easier to manage on

his own so long as he stays away from crowded spaces and settles
down in a quiet place for himself.”

To James’s own ears, it sounded like they were never going to see

Tristan ever again. The thought put a heavy rock in his gut.

Corey touched his cheek, and as usual, that small contact pulled

James away from his grim thoughts. “Let’s go running,” he said then
shifted into his gray wolf, looked over his shoulder, and took off into
the trees.

James grinned and ran after him.

* * * *

Isaac nearly choked on his pancakes, he laughed so hard.
Tristan was wise enough to put his fork down while he told the

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

story. “So me, being the cocky little asshole I am, I’m cutting off
people on the road, right? Going way past the speed limit, until finally
some guy I already cut off drives up like he’s about to pass me, but
then we both have to slow down because a stop light is coming up.”

Isaac could guess where this was going.
Tristan continued. “This guy is mad. I mean he was pissed, starts

waving his fist at me, and I start yelling back at him. Oh yeah? Come
out here and say that. So he gets out of his car, and he. Is. Huge.”

Isaac dropped his fork, still laughing. “Oh my God, what did you

do then?”

“I saw how big he was and was all like oh shit. So I’m spinning

the steering wheel as fast as I can, hitting the gas so I can turn around
and get the hell out of there.”

Tristan, Isaac noted, did a lot of talking with his hands, so the

spinning motion he made, replicating just how fast he spun the wheel,
only made Isaac laugh harder.

Luckily there weren’t that many people in the diner, otherwise the

two of them might have been kicked out already for all the noise they
were making.

Isaac was finally able to respond once he got his breathing under

control. “Yeah, I remember being a little shit when I got my first car.”

Tristan heaped an egg onto his toast and took a bite. “You sure

your friends won’t be wondering where you are? It’s been a couple of
hours.”

That was right. Despite their breakfast plates, it was nearly noon.

“Nah, besides, after the prank they pulled I’m thinking of just getting
a room at the motel here anyway.”

And here was where he needed to pull some more of that courage

he didn’t feel out of his ass. Tristan was handsome, funny, and good
to be around. Isaac liked being around him and wanted more of that.
“If you want, we can split the cost of the room. Save some money for
the night, if you were hanging out here tonight, that is.”

Tristan did that silent thing again where he seemed to be inwardly

Marcy Jacks

weighing the pros and the cons of such an action.

More and more Isaac was beginning to think the kid was hiding

from someone, or something. It was the only thing he could think of
that would make him hesitate.

Isaac could tell perfectly well that Tristan was attracted to him,

the same way he was attracted to Tristan. They were both adults, so if
they did spend the night together, there could really be no harm in
that.

The fact that Tristan was in hiding was the only thing he could

think of. From family, perhaps? An ex-boyfriend, or maybe even the
werewolves.

Isaac hoped it wasn’t that last one, but if it was, he would keep

Tristan safe. “I wouldn’t hurt you, you know.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Tristan said, gulping down the last

of his orange juice. Their booth was at the window, and not for the
first time, Tristan looked outside, his eyes carefully searching the few
pedestrians who were out walking around in the middle of a workday.
Keeping an eye out for someone.

That told Isaac enough.
“Actually,” Tristan said, a bright smile suddenly lighting up his

face. “Sure. I’d like that. Don’t think hanging out here an extra day
will hurt anything.”

Isaac’s cock twitched. The mission could definitely wait another

night, and if those assholes decided to go for the hunt without him,
well, Isaac would deal with the loss in profits later.

“I’d like that, too.”

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Five

Tristan had never been on a date before, and for his age, that was

pathetic. So he rather found himself relaxing as he and Isaac strolled
along the town, which, in a small place such as this, didn’t take them
very long.

The main road with all the shops was a short one. There was a

bookstore they browsed through for a good little while, where Tristan
even used up the bit of cash he had to pick up something to read for
his journey, a thrift store where he and Isaac looked at old VHS tapes
and records, even though neither of them owned a record or tape
player, another cafe, the post office, which they didn’t bother with, a
liquor store, which they did, and, of all things, an old-style arcade
with pinball machines and Donkey Kong.

They spent a lot of their day in there. Tristan had never had so

much fun in his life.

“I might just have to come back here,” Isaac said, looking over at

Tristan with the softest expression anyone had ever looked at him
with after they played their last round of table hockey.

He’d forgotten that Isaac wasn’t going to be sticking around here

after he and his friends packed up and left, but just the way he looked
at him and spoke about coming back made Tristan blush all the way
down to his toes.

It kind of made Tristan wish he’d come into town more often. Had

he known he could come here, go shopping, have fun, all with a guy
beside him, who, if anyone bothered to look, it was obvious he was
flirting with, Tristan might have had a more active love life.

Maybe he would’ve met Isaac sooner, if the man came here

Marcy Jacks

during the summer months, that is, and they could’ve hooked up long
before this.

Because Tristan didn’t know where he was going to be in the next

couple of days, he smiled shyly at Isaac instead of giving him a
response one way or the other.

Truth be told, he liked Isaac and definitely wanted to see more of

him around.

“You’re very good with flattery,” Tristan said, “but that’s not

going to help you win this next round.”

Tristan won their last game, but he got the feeling it was because

Isaac had let him, what with the way the other man continued to look
at him. When they finally decided to take their beers and books to the
motel, the kid behind the counter didn’t even blink at them when they
paid for a room together.

Isaac had, with a dark blush of scarlet, requested two beds, but the

nervous looks he kept sending to Tristan let him know that those beds
were probably going to get pushed together before the night was out.

It was only six in the evening, and though the shadows of the

setting sun were becoming long, the sky was still a perfectly clear
blue, and the air was still warm.

That didn’t stop Isaac from pushing him against the wall and

kissing him the second the door was shut and Tristan had dropped his
bag.

His lips were soft, was the first thing Tristan realized, right before

Isaac grabbed him by the hips and pushed their groins together, and
then Tristan lost all train of thought except for one.

This was happening.
He didn’t mind one bit.
Clearly Isaac was used to being the one in control when it came to

sex, because Tristan could do little else but hold on for the ride as he
was kissed into submission, his mouth opening in a moan that Isaac
took full advantage of when he slipped his wet tongue between
Tristan’s lips.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Christ, his cock was pulsing now. He hadn’t realized how much

he needed this.

If only they didn’t have to go their separate ways in the morning.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Isaac rasped, his fingers playing

around with his belt and fly. He kicked off his steel toes, which made
him lose a little height, but he was still taller than Tristan was by
about an inch.

Right. Naked time.
Though Isaac already seemed to be working on it, Tristan helped

him along by getting his fingers under the elastic of his shorts and
pulling them off. Isaac worked on his buttons and hastily pushed it off
his shoulders.

He let Isaac grab him by his arms and pull him down on one of the

small double beds. Tristan got to his hands and knees and looked over
his shoulder as Isaac spat into his hand and lubed his cock.

No foreplay needed here. They were both horny as hell, it seemed.

Isaac more so than Tristan if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Considering he’d been smelling Isaac’s lust since they had their

breakfast in the diner more than six hours ago, Tristan couldn’t blame
him.

He panicked a little at the firm pressure against his hole.
“Wait.” He looked over his shoulder.
Isaac was looking back at him with that panicked, deer-in-the-

headlights look that usually came when someone stopped sex.
“What?”

Not his cock. Those were Isaac’s fingers. Tristan breathed a sigh

as he realized Isaac was not so far gone that he would leave out the
preparation part.

“Nothing, sorry, never mind. Keep going.”
Isaac didn’t need to be told twice.
Tristan inhaled a deep breath and pushed out as Isaac’s fingers

pushed in. The burn was there, but not unbearable, despite the lack of
lube.

Marcy Jacks

“This all right?” Isaac asked.
“Yeah. Do another.”
Isaac complied and pushed another finger inside him, stretching

his hole until this time, the burn damn near was unbearable.

“Relax, sweetheart, you’re too tense.”
No one had ever called him that before. Even though the pet name

wasn’t said with any kind of seriousness to it, Tristan was able to do
as he was told and force his muscles to go lax. Only then did the burn
ease up a little.

Strange. It wasn’t like it was any kind of advice Tristan didn’t

already know about, but the gentle reminder was more than helpful.

Isaac kept on pushing his fingers inside until his knuckles brushed

against Tristan’s ass, and that’s when he realized Isaac had put them
in as far as they could go, and he was still all right.

Then that feeling of those fingers moving inside him, wiggling

around came upon him, followed by—

Tristan moaned out loud. He’d had his elbows locked straight, but

they gave out on him, and he went face down into the pillow as the
mind-bending pleasure came over him.

His hand scrambled down, desperately searching for his cock

before he finally found it and held on for dear life, keeping himself
from coming, prolonging his torture, and the rest of the night.

Isaac said something that sounded like “There it is” right before

he slowly removed his fingers from Tristan’s body.

The next thing to press against Tristan’s hold was blunt—Isaac’s

stiff cock—and Isaac pushed in with all the gentle care as he’d used
with his fingers.

When Tristan felt the coarse hairs from Isaac’s balls touch his ass,

Isaac stopped, waited for what seemed like a solid thirty seconds, and
then began thrusting his hips.

Tristan clenched his jaw as that spot inside him was found again.

His favorite place. Isaac played with it like it was his favorite place as
well.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

It was slow at first, but then the punching of their bodies became

faster and faster as Tristan began pushing back against Isaac’s prick.

Tristan was talking and moaning at the same time and had no idea

what he was saying, had no idea what Isaac was saying either. The
whole time he kept a firm grip on the base of his cock, keeping
himself from coming.

“Ah, I love fucking you.”
Tristan understood that part.
Isaac’s hands rotated their grip from his shoulders to his neck to

his ribs, and in an effort to draw out his own pleasure, whenever
orgasm came too close, Isaac stopped, then continued on at a near
painfully slow pace before his speed picked up again.

Then he stopped, went slow but hard some more, and finally

resumed his quick-as-lightning thrusts.

The next time he slowed down, Tristan snapped at him. “If you do

that one more time I swear I will kill you!”

Isaac had the gall to laugh at him. “Christ, you’re eager,

considering the way you’re holding onto your dick.”

Oh. Right.
Tristan let go of himself and gripped the headboard of the bed.

“You fuck me and get me off, now,” he commanded.

Tristan would have never thought he had it in him to be so

commanding. It wasn’t in his nature.

When he looked over his shoulder, Isaac mock saluted him.

“You’re the captain.”

“You’re damn right I am.”
He nearly didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence as Isaac did

as he was commanded and thrust inside him, the push and pull
commencing. It took only a second before that frantic-paced, high-
speed humping that signalled orgasm was near started up again.

By now Tristan was so horny, his balls so aching and heavy, that

he was right behind him.

Then his balls went tight as the pleasure of his release damn near

Marcy Jacks

blinded him, his cock spurting fluid like it had just learned how to.

Tristan put a hand over his mouth, stifling his pleasured scream.
Isaac was not so much into consideration for their neighbors, if

they even had any, as he kept the pace of his hips, milking out his
orgasm. The loud, shaky moans escaping his throat were somehow
magnified by the small space of the motel room they were in.

When Isaac finally managed to stop his hips, he collapsed on top

of Tristan’s back, and Tristan enjoyed the feel of his warm breath
against his neck.

“That was great,” Isaac moaned.
Tristan was the sort of guy who tended to clock out after orgasm,

so the most he could come up with by way of reply was a satisfied
“Mmhmm” right before he went to sleep.

He was only out for a couple of hours, but by then, the sun was

nearly  down.  The  streams  of  light  that  came  in  through  the  closed
blinds  of  the  motel  room  were  weak  at  best,  and  half  of  the  thin
blanket  on  the  bed  beneath  him  had  been  folded  over  to  cover  his
naked body.

Isaac was gone.
Tristan rolled onto his back and sighed. Before he could start

telling himself that it was probably for the best, the door opened and
Isaac walked into the room.

The unexpected arrival was so…well, unexpected that Tristan shot

up into a sitting position.

Isaac had a cell in his hand. Probably some prepaid thing he’d

picked up while he’d been out. He flipped it shut quickly and shut the
door behind him. There was a plastic bag from one of the shops in his
hand.

The smile on Isaac’s face was genuinely pleased. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” Tristan said stupidly. “I didn’t think you would be here

when I woke up.”

Isaac stopped as he was putting the bag onto the small table that

made up the dining room of their accommodations. He suddenly

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

looked unsure of himself. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No! I mean, not at all. I just didn’t expect you to come back. I

mean, your friends and all.”

Isaac waved it off. “I called them to let them know I’d be late.

We’ve got lots of time.”

His grin was wolfish, and Tristan shivered.
“Hey, look what I brought,” Isaac shoved his hand into the bag

and produced a small box.

Not dinner. Ice cream. It was a box of ice cream drumsticks.
Tristan was sure he just came again. “Now, how did you know

those were my favorite?”

“Your favorite? These are my favorite,” Isaac began the process of

tearing open the top of the box and pulling out one of the wrapped ice
cream cones. He wiggled it between his fingers. “Seeing as I bought
the box, I’ll expect payment if you want one as well.”

“I’ll bet I can think of a couple of things,” Tristan said, sliding out

of bed and walking up to Isaac, his eyes glued to the treat. “After we
eat them.”

Isaac pulled his hand away as Tristan reached out to take the ice

cream. “I always take my payments in advance.”

Tristan mock glared. “Do you?”
Isaac looked like someone who was holding all the cards and was

excited as hell about it. “One of the better teachings from my dad.
Payment first, and then you get dessert.”

This was a no brainer if Tristan wanted that ice cream before it

melted. He dropped to his knee and got to work on Isaac’s belt,
freeing his cock and immediately placing his lips around the head. It
swelled under the attention, and Tristan dove down and began licking
and sucking as though Isaac’s dick were the ice cream he was after.

“Jesus.” Tristan felt the tremor pass through Isaac’s body. “Was

just going to ask for a kiss, but all right.”

Tristan fought not to laugh, but it took him a second to get himself

under control. When he did, he got to work, tightening his cheeks and

Marcy Jacks

bobbing his head.

Isaac put his free hand on Tristan’s shoulder for balance, and,

gasping slightly, began to gently thrust his hips, fucking Tristan’s
mouth.

“Could get used to seeing you down there like that,” Isaac said

between gasps.

Tristan’s heart did a painful lurch in his chest, and he didn’t like

it, nor would he respond to that comment or think about how much
he’d like to be doing this for more than one night as well.

He reached up to take Isaac’s balls in hand before the other man

could keep talking like that, and Isaac’s knees buckled as he came.

It was so sudden he had no time to warn Tristan about it, but that

was all right. Just being a werewolf made Tristan pretty confident that
if Isaac had anything—and he couldn’t scent any sickness on him—
Tristan’s immune system would destroy it before he even developed
any symptoms.

Sometimes being a paranormal creature had its advantages.
Isaac dropped to the floor, handed Tristan the ice cream first, and

then did up his pants.

Tristan took the treat with a grin and ripped open the paper.

“Thank you.”

Isaac laughed. “You’re crazy.”

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Six

At least he’d stopped looking around, as though waiting for the

boogie man to jump out of the shadows to get him, Isaac mused as he
and Tristan walked the streets of the town. To be perfectly honest,
Isaac couldn’t even remember the name of the town. He was too
caught up in enjoying the cool night air with his new friend.

They kept on talking, enjoying each others company and the last

of  the  ice  cream  Isaac  had  bought,  and  eventually  made  their  way
back  to  the  river.  Because  the  river  stretched  through  the  town,  the
bank here had a paved walkway and was lit with yellow street lamps.
Clusters  of  dandelions  spotted  the  grass,  and  for  the  first  time,  the
sight of all that water didn’t make Isaac break out in sweat.

The thought of never seeing Tristan anymore, however, was

something that didn’t sit well in his stomach.

“So, where do you think you’ll be moving to?” Isaac asked.

“Maybe when I’m done here I can drop by and come see you.”

He tried to sound casual about it, reminding himself that he only

just met Tristan that morning, and despite the fact that they’d gone to
bed together, that didn’t mean the guy was up for some sort of
relationship. Even a casual one.

“To be honest, I’m not sure where I’ll be settling just yet. I don’t

even have a phone on me.”

More of that hesitation that Isaac could turn into a positive. “Well,

everyone nowadays has an e-mail address. We can trade ours, and that
way we can keep in contact.”

Tristan stopped walking suddenly to look at him. Isaac stopped

with him.

Marcy Jacks

“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Tristan just looked at him like he’d never seen him before, like he

was something entirely out of this world.

Isaac was about to apologize for pushing it, but then Tristan’s

cheeks and lips lifted in an eager smile. “Yeah, all right. I’ll do that.”

Isaac’s heart did a happy little jump. Tristan didn’t think he was

creepy, and they were going to keep in contact with each other after
his hunting business was over with.

“Okay, great,” Isaac cleared his throat. “We’ll write ’em down

when we get back to the motel.” Where they would order take-out
pizza and spend the rest of the night having more of that fantastic sex.

“Right.”
The sweetest part was the way Tristan took his hand and linked

their fingers together. He wasn’t just saying it to put Isaac off track.
They were really doing this.

They’d been walking for all of two more minutes when someone

came down from the other end of the trail. That person was nothing
but a shadow in the night, but he stopped suddenly before he could
step under one of the beams of yellow light coming from the lamps.

Tristan seemed to think nothing of it, but Isaac stopped, pulling on

Tristan’s hand to keep from going any further.

Tristan looked puzzled. “What is it?”
Isaac frowned as the stranger continued to hold still. “Him.”
Tristan looked, and for the first time, seemed to notice there was

someone ahead of them, watching them.

Tristan seemed to inhale deeply, but then turned to Isaac. “Do you

know who he is?”

No, but some stranger slinking around in the dark was always

enough to set off the warning signals in Isaac’s head.

Not all the monsters in the world were of the paranormal variety.
Then some of his anxiety left him as the man—because a bulky

build like that could only belong to a man, despite the long-looking
hair—started walking forward.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Tristan was the one to tense up, however, when the stranger

stepped under the light, revealing his face.

“Tristan? That you?”
“Turn around and start walking,” Tristan muttered, following his

own advice before Isaac could ask any questions.

A protective instinct spiked within Isaac.
This was the man Tristan was hiding from.
“Hey! I’m talking to you, cub!”
“Fuck off!” Tristan shot over his shoulder.
Not how Isaac would have handled that.
It really seemed to piss off the stranger as well, because he ran

forward, shooting out his hand to grab Tristan by the shoulder.

Isaac was faster. His dagger had been the one thing he hadn’t

taken off when he got ready to climb that tree earlier this morning,
and he had it out of its hidden sheath and to the guy’s throat just as his
finger’s touched down on Tristan’s arm.

“Back off,” Isaac commanded.
The stranger was already doing just that, though he hardly looked

intimidated. He looked angry, his face twisting up like a pissed-off
troll. “The fuck is this?”

Tristan put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder, the other on his arm.

“Isaac, please, put the knife down.”

“Yeah, Isaac,” Troll Man said, sneering his name. “Put the knife

down.”

“Shut up, Tanner,” Tristan said, glaring at him.
Only because Isaac didn’t know full well what was going on did

he lower the blade, but he still kept it raised between himself and
Tanner.

“You get yourself a boyfriend, Tristan?” Tanner said. “Don’t

think my brother will like that very much.”

“Deacon does not own me,” Tristan snapped.
“As of now he does. You’re out here, by yourself—”
“James would never allow it.”

Marcy Jacks

“He’s not here, is he?”
“I’m here,” Isaac snapped. “And I’m going to tell you right now

that Tristan is with me, and you can fuck off somewhere before I start
cutting you open.”

Christ, it was worse than he thought. Tristan wasn’t on the run

from  an  abusive  relationship,  he  was  running  away  from  someone
who  wanted  to  put  him  into  an  abusive  relationship,  and  whoever
Deacon  was,  he  had  other  people  doing  his  bidding  for  him,  big,
muscular goons from the look of it.

That made things even more dangerous.
He didn’t at all like the way Tanner laughed at his threat either.

“What exactly do you think you can do to me?”

“Tanner, don’t,” Tristan said, clutching at Isaac’s arm.
All of a sudden, Isaac got the feeling that he was the one being

protected.

“Thinks he’s a tough guy with a blade like that in his hand, don’t

you?” Tanner mocked, addressing Isaac toward the end, that same
wolfish smile on his face, and then the eyes flickered gold, the pupils
transforming into thin diamond slits before they became normal
again.

Like a light switch going off, Isaac knew what he was dealing

with, and he wished with everything inside of him for his guns that
he’d left behind at the river, the ones loaded with silver bullets.

“Tristan, run away,” Isaac said.
“Oh, yes, Tristan, run so I can chase you.”
Isaac swiped out his dagger. Apparently Tanner was a little too

into his game of playing wolf because he was a split second too slow
to react, and Isaac sliced him just across his nose.

A meaty hand came up to inspect the damage. Only a little blood

trickled at first, but when he pinched his nose, he released a sharp cry
as the sliced wound yawned open, spilling more blood.

Then he got mad and started advancing. “I’m gonna eat you alive,

boy.”

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Isaac backed up, but was being half pulled by Tristan. “I said run,

Tristan!” he commanded.

The last thing he wanted was for Tristan to watch him kill this

guy.

Or, if Isaac failed and was the one to be killed, he wanted Tristan

to have a good head start.

Tanner’s face had already begun to shift. In Isaac’s experience,

the shifting process weakened some wolves because it could take
anywhere from one second to one minute to complete.

Tanner appeared to be somewhere in the one second vicinity, even

wearing clothes, which he hadn’t bothered to take off and were
currently in pieces around his paws. Tanner was on all fours, his lips
curved upward in an enraged snarl that really made Isaac wish he had
more than this knife.

It was just a standard hunting knife. He hadn’t even had a chance

to line it with silver yet.

Isaac felt behind him for Tristan’s strong chest, found it, and

pushed him away. “I said run, Tristan!”

“No.”
The calm acceptance in his voice had Isaac turning to look at him.
Too late he realized what a mistake that was, and he and Tristan

just barely managed to jump out of the way of Tanner’s flying leap
for their throats.

Jesus Christ! What had he been thinking?
“I’m not going with you, Tanner,” Tristan said, fists clenched.
The body of the werewolf shuddered, as though Tanner were

laughing at him.

That good humor lasted a good second before the wolf made

another  lunge  for  Isaac’s  throat.  The  reach  of  those  paws,  and  the
claws  with  the  lycan  venom  in  them,  was  much  longer  than  Isaac’s
reach,  even  with  the  dagger  he  held.  He  could  do  nothing  but  jump
out of the way, letting Tanner chase him, play with him.

Christ, Isaac wasn’t even wearing anything to protect the skin of

Marcy Jacks

his arms or neck. If he made it out of this alive, it would be as a
werewolf.

“Tanner! Stop it!” Tristan yelled.
“Stay back!” Isaac shouted as Tristan tried to come between them.
Was he crazy? What did he think he could do aside from get in the

way?

The fact that he would do such a thing, risking his life and health

for Isaac, made him realize that Isaac would most definitely face the
consequences of this battle for him.

Isaac flicked the dagger in his hand, bent his knees, and got into

his standard attack position.

Bring it on.
Tanner circled him once then did a quick run and another flying

leap, claws outstretched, jaws open wide, and murder in those wild
eyes.

“Isaac! No!”
Something slammed into Tanner’s wolfy body before he could

reach Isaac. A white something. A white hairy something, and the
snarling and rolling in the grass and dirt commenced.

Both wolves, in their rolling battle, kicked up a cloud of dust and

weeds that almost made it difficult to see them.

Isaac knew another werewolf when he saw one. He searched

around for Tristan, ready to take him by the hand and book it out of
there, when he realized that no one else was there.

Just him and two werewolves, fighting a furious battle like they

were in a war for territory or something, and Tristan's clothes were
scattered on the ground

It took him point three seconds to realize where Tristan had gone,

and the world went into slow motion on him as he turned to look at
the spinning, rolling, snarling wolves still at each others throats in the
flowers and grass.

Tristan was the white werewolf, and from the looks of things, the

blood that began soaking his white coat, he was getting his ass kicked.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

The blood nearly looked black under the yellow light, but that was

not the reason Isaac’s knees nearly gave out on him, or why he felt the
desperate need to puke.

Tristan was a werewolf. He was one of the creatures Isaac was

sworn to kill, and Isaac had…

He couldn’t think it.
The fighting and rolling seemed to mostly slow down as Tristan

was overpowered. That was a little too quick for a fight of this sort.
Guess that made Tristan an omega.

Either way, both seemed to forget that Isaac was still there, and,

slowly, he made his way behind the two struggling wolves. Tanner
was a large, bulky grey wolf. Isaac wouldn’t mistake them when he
went in for the killing blow.

It happened sooner than he though it would. Tanner finally

managed to pin Tristan, and keep the smaller wolf beneath him as he
locked his jaws around Tristan’s throat.

The thick mane of hair there would prevent Tanner from

accidentally ripping out Tristan’s throat, but Tristan still released a
pained whine that was like a sword through Isaac’s heart.

Don’t think about it.
Tanner released Tristan’s neck with a warning growl, and then,

still keeping his body firmly on top of Tristan’s, looked into his eyes.
They were doing that thing that wolves did. Speaking to each other
without words.

Isaac was in no mood to wait around until they were done.
The neck was a poor place to kill a wolf, even a werewolf who

wouldn’t see the attack coming. All that fur was too much protection.

The way Isaac went for it was more difficult but still effective.
He raised the dagger high above his head and brought it down

with all the strength he could muster into Tanner’s skull. The bone
made a loud sound that was a mix between a pop and a crack as it was
penetrated, and with a sudden twitch, Tanner’s body went down like a
heavy rock.

Marcy Jacks

Tristan made more wolfy whining sounds, struggling and

worming his way out from under Tanner’s heavy body, his claws
scraping long lines into the grass as he fought to be free.

Isaac stepped clear of them at the sight.
Jesus Christ. How could he have been so stupid?
He planted his feet as the bleeding white wolf made a slow shift

back into a naked man, the long hairs shrinking back into the pores of
skin  until  the  only  hair  that  remained  was  the  natural  human  hair
found on a male body. The paws became thin and stretched out until
there  were  fingers  instead  of  claws  and  muscular  arms  and  legs
instead of those boney, hairy legs of the wolf.

There was still blood on his skin, and he trembled as he tried to

crawl backward away from Isaac, his chest rising and falling as he
panted heavily.

“Don’t kill me,” he begged, holding his hand out.
Isaac looked down, realizing how he held the dagger in his fist, as

though he meant to strike with it, and then he looked back at Tristan.

The guy’s chest continued to rise and fall in a rapid pace.
He was scared out of his mind.
No wonder. As a werewolf, Tristan must have finally put together

exactly what it was that Isaac did for a living.

Well, he had said he was on a hunting trip, after all.
Isaac wondered if the revelation was just as shocking for Tristan

as it had been for Isaac. Then he decided it didn’t matter.

“I should kill you,” he said, all calm and professional.
“Please—”
“Don’t,” Isaac snapped. “Don’t you even think about saying

anything to me. You didn’t know what I was, but you know perfectly
well what you are, and you let me fuck you.”

Tristan winced.
Isaac played with the idea of stabbing him in the heart. Quick,

painless, much easier than what he would get if anyone of Isaac’s
team ever got a hold of him. Kind of appropriate, too, considering

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Isaac felt like someone had just stabbed him in his own goddamn
heart.

He wet his lips, hating himself, and looked away from Tristan’s

naked body that’s he’d practically worshipped earlier that day. “Get
out of here. I ever see you again, and I’ll kill you.”

A choked sob sounded, but Isaac didn’t acknowledge it. He

sheathed his dagger and took a couple of steps in the other direction.

When he couldn’t help himself anymore, just had to look back,

Tristan was nowhere in sight. The only things remaining were the
scattered clothes and a dead werewolf body.

Marcy Jacks

Chapter Seven

Tristan burst in on the motel he and Isaac had shared. The smell of

the sex he and Isaac had had still lingered in the air. The scent of
Isaac was still on everything he touched.

It made Tristan want to cry like a little pup.
He hadn’t even taken anything out of his duffel bag, so it was a

simple matter of throwing on some clothes and running out the door.
He  was  barefoot,  but  he  could  handle  it.  His  wounds  were  still
bleeding  as  well,  though  they  were  fast  healing  thanks  to  his
regeneration abilities, but  the blood  was  still there, and if there were
anymore of Deacon’s men out and about, they would have no trouble
sniffing him out.

He would have to risk it.
He ran as fast as he could back in the direction of James and the

rest of his pack. There was no help for it now. Isaac was a hunter, and
he had said he was here with other people. Other hunters, all of whom
wanted nothing better than to skin Tristan and every member of his
pack alive. James would need to be warned.

And Tristan, if he was to go back and avoid and outright war

between the packs, would have to cut a deal with Deacon and pray the
violent alpha would accept it.

The thing that made everything ten times worse was the way Isaac

had looked at him after Tristan had transformed, like he was the
swamp-thing or something. A disgusting monster.

He should have known better. Tristan shouldn’t have gotten his

hopes up the way he did.

Walking in the moonlight, however, holding hands with Isaac, and

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

being asked for his e-mail address that would allow them to keep in
contact with each other had made him hope against his better
judgement.

That hope had vanished with a single look on Isaac’s face.
Tristan wiped the moisture from his eyes as he ran, feeling like

such a pussy about it. Running away, crying like a little girl, but he
couldn’t help himself.

Maybe he wouldn’t feel like such shit about being rejected by a

near stranger, had the revelation that he and Isaac were mates not
come onto him.

He had recognized the sensations inside of him for what they were

when Isaac had shyly asked him where he was planning on settling
down, the clear hope in his voice that they could continue whatever it
was they were doing at a later time.

Likely after Isaac and his buddies had finished cutting off the

heads of everyone Tristan loved.

It was the worst sort of cosmic joke Tristan had ever heard of. He

was mated to a hunter, and he would never be made happy by it.

* * * *

Though Isaac had told Tristan to run away, he still found himself

entering their formerly shared motel room with a hint of trepidation,
dagger in hand.

The lamp light was on, bathing the room in bright fluorescent

light, but the few possessions Tristan owned were gone, and so was
he.

Isaac sat down on the bed, keeping himself to the very edge of it,

avoiding, as much as he could, the reminder that he had fucked
Tristan in it only a couple of hours ago.

Christ. Isaac ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the itch that had

developed on his scalp. He was getting a headache just thinking about
it.

Marcy Jacks

Would he become a werewolf now? Tristan had never bitten or

scratched him, and he’d been human the entire time they
were…together, but did that make Isaac safe against the disease?
They had shared body fluids, but Tristan hadn’t seemed too worried
about that at all, and he knew Isaac was a human.

He wasn’t going to so much as breathe a word of this to the guys

until he knew for sure. When he’d called them earlier, he’d told them
where he was and had explained that after the trip down the river, he
needed to get laid.

Thinking he’d found a willing woman to hole up with, the rest of

the team had been indulgent in the way men were when one of their
boys was about to score. They didn’t know Isaac wasn’t batting for
their team, and they wouldn’t know he’d been in bed with a werewolf.
Ever.

He needed to get back anyway. The time they’d given him to get

his itch out of his system was going to be up in just over an hour, and
he would need that time to get back to camp and let the guys know the
werewolves were nearby.

He’d make up a story about how he knew that on the way there.
He hoped Tristan would be a good distance away by the time the

attack commenced. He also hoped Tristan would be there so Isaac
could kill him.

He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Maybe this wouldn’t be

so hard if he hadn’t genuinely enjoyed Tristan’s company.

Isaac got up and left the motel room. He’d had enough thinking.

Time to act. First he would call Marty’s cell. He was the one leading
their team. He would need to be told that Isaac was on his way.

Next he would have to make the long hike back up the river to his

campsite to let his team know that he’d killed a werewolf. They
would have to attack before someone from the dead wolf’s pack
noticed he was missing.

* * * *

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

The night air was cool by the time Tristan made it back to James’s

land. Though it was well past midnight and the crickets were chirping
and fireflies soaring, there were still enough men and women awake
and walking about to notice his return and quirk their heads over it.

So the news of his abandoning the pack had gone around already.
Perfect.
James would still be awake. It was only a couple of hours before

midnight, and Tristan knew he wouldn’t have to worry about getting
him up from his bed.

As it happened, James was in bed but not sleeping. Despite this,

he and Corey still seemed to be genuinely pleased to see him.

Until he told them what had happened with Tanner and the hunter,

leaving out Isaac’s name and their ever-so-brief encounter.

“Christ almighty,” James sighed.
Old Maggie, the pack’s wise woman, had been called in as soon

as Tristan had come back. She had smiled brightly, the winkles on her
face deepening until she damn near disappeared within them, then
kissed his cheek and hugged him.

Now she was stoic, still holding Tristan’s hand, patting it gently in

that grandmotherly way she did, but at the moment, though she was
their wise woman, she had no words of wisdom to offer.

Tristan was just happy to have someone hold his hand. That was

probably the only thing that kept him together at the moment.

“James, we’ll have to put everyone on full alert,” Mick said.
James nodded. “You’re right. Round everyone up and get them

onto the main lawn so we can have a meeting about this.”

Mick nodded and took off at a power walk to do his alpha’s

bidding.

“What should I do?” Corey asked.
“You,” James said, taking his mate by his bare shoulders, “will go

with the omegas when the attack comes and keep the pups safe.”

Corey’s shoulders went tight. “I’m not leaving you!”

Marcy Jacks

“You will do as I say and like it if I give the order,” James said,

glaring at his mate, the scars on his face making him look all the more
fierce.

Corey glared back. Tristan didn’t know what was going through

the guy’s mind. He wasn’t born a werewolf. He still had a human way
of thinking about things.

“Fine, whatever,” Corey muttered, right before pushing past

James and leaving the office where they’d been having their meeting.
Off to be with the other omegas.

“You’ll have to do the same, Tristan.”
And here was where things were about to get a little more

awkward. “Sorry, sir, but no.”

James’s dark brows rose up high, creating crooked lines within the

burn and pockmarked scars on his forehead.

“No?” he asked, taking a step forward. Tristan wanted to shrink

back, but he didn’t dare.

“No?” James asked again, a silent dare in his voice.
Tristan swallowed. He thought he heard Old Maggie sigh behind

him but was too scared shitless to be sure.

As the leading alpha of a pack of werewolves, James did have to,

on occasion, bring an unruly omega or competing alpha out onto the
lawn for a light beating whenever they got out of hand, disobeyed, or
put the pack in danger.

The level of the beating depended on which affront had been

committed. Tristan was glad James was the understanding sort. He
would let Tristan explain himself before he took him out in front of
everyone to remind him who was boss.

“I abandoned the pack, sir. And killed Deacon’s brother. You

know I can’t stay.”

“You’re back on my territory and are officially a wandering

omega. I can make you part of this pack again if I want to. I can do
that for you.”

Tristan nodded, wishing that James didn’t have to be so good

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

about this. “I know, but then you’ll just have to deal with Deacon
when he wages war on the pack for what I did. We—you—can’t fight
with him and a group of hunters who want to kill us.”

“He may have a point, my boy.”
Old Maggie. Tristan had been gripping her hand so hard he nearly

forgot she was there.

He looked at her. Her blue eyes, sunken within her skull from age,

seemed to fall further with what she was about to say.

She knew where Tristan was going with this. She also knew it was

the only option they had if James wanted the pack to survive.

“If he goes and agrees to be a part of Deacon’s harem—”
“Maggie—” James warned.
“It could bring peace between the two packs with no more

bloodshed,” she continued, ignoring the warning tone in James’s
voice.

She was the only member of the pack who had the authority to do

that. Tristan wasn’t sure where that authority came from, but she was
using it now to make James see her way.

He licked his lips, his neck and jaw clenching with the pressure of

his anger. It was gone in only a couple of seconds, and James took in
a deep breath.

“Tristan goes to Deacon, agrees to be part of his harem as

punishment for killing Tanner, and then the two packs will fight as
one,” he said.

“Exactly,” Tristan agreed, miserable beyond belief.
The three of them were silent for a moment. James was the one to

break it. “You know I won’t blame you if you decide you don’t want
to do this.”

“Do you want the chances of Corey surviving the coming attacks

to increase, or not?”

It was a bitchy thing to say, considering how lenient James was

being with him, but he couldn’t help himself, and he half hoped James
would take him out onto the front lawn in front of everyone to teach

Marcy Jacks

him a lesson.

He didn’t. James took in another deep breath, released it, and then

nodded.

“I’ll get Deacon on the phone to tell him the bad news about

Tanner. I’m sure he’ll take the…compensation.”

* * * *

Marty was as happy as a pig in shit when Isaac told him he’d

killed one of the wolves.

Less happy when Isaac had explained how he’d left the pelt

behind, but there was nothing that could be done for it now. The hours
were going by, and it was nearly dawn. The humans who were used to
rising this early in order to earn their livelihoods would already be up
and about, and someone would notice the dead wolf, think it was an
animal—albeit a large animal—and have it taken away to be disposed
of.

Still, it meant that they were on the right track and that the

message Dean had sent them, right before he’d died, talking about a
pack of werewolves, had been on the money.

They’d packed up their camp, destroying any evidence of their

ever having been there, and set off.

“Picked up some wolf trails just before you called,” Dale said, a

hunter of a slim build who made up for his lack of strength with
unlimited energy and his weapons expertise.

Any gun or knife they carried on them, they did so only on his

approval.

“It’s pretty exciting,” he said, his grin showing off thin teeth, a

couple of which were missing around the front, giving him a slight
lisp. “We see and hear nothing the last several days, and all o’a
sudden you kill yourself a wolf and we find tracks.”

“Yeah, exciting,” Isaac muttered.
His kill hardly made him a favorite, but it, and the news of tracks,

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

put the guys in a more professional mood, and they were treating
Isaac with something akin to dignity, not even ripping on him for
falling into the river.

Despite the better working environment, he still couldn’t help the

fact that he was not entirely into this right now. Too many doubts
were floating through his head.

Tristan had said he was running away from his pack, but he was

still a werewolf. What if his instincts to protect his pack made him go
back and warn them? What if those tracks belonged to him? What if
Marty, Dale, or one of the others, killed him?

They would, too. You didn’t become a hunter unless you were out

to avenge someone, and that included Isaac. He just never thought he
would be second guessing his own motives over a fling.

“Hey.” A hard hand thwacked the back of his head, pulling him

out of his paranoid musings.

“Pay attention!” Marty snapped, then licked his finger and stuck it

into the air. “The wind’s with us. If we keep following those tracks,
and they stay constant, they’ll never see us coming.”

That was exactly what Isaac was afraid of.

Marcy Jacks

Chapter Eight

If Tristan had thought the looks he was getting from the member

of his own pack were odd, it was nothing compared to the way
Deacon’s pack looked at him when he strolled onto their land, asking
to see their leader.

Deacon, unlike James, had been sleeping, and he was not the kind

of man you wanted to wake up. James hadn't even been able to get the
man on the phone, so Tristan had to just go and explain himself with
no warning for the other man.

The twisted snarl on Deacon's face as he screamed at the omega

who summoned him almost made Tristan regret coming here.

Jesus. He was about to admit to killing the man’s brother. Deacon

might want Tristan for his harem, but he could easily decide to kill
him instead and then go to war with James just for the fun of it.

Tristan never thought he would see the day where letting Deacon

fuck him would be the lesser of two evils.

“You had better have a good fucking excuse for getting me out of

bed, you little bitch,” Deacon said, advancing on the now trembling
red-haired female omega, his arm was lifting, his hand becoming
boney claws.

“I made her do it,” Tristan said, before he could strike at her.
His voice made Deacon stop his advancing, and the poor female

must have been so afraid of any sort of movement from her alpha,
that, that alone had caused her to tip on her feet and fall backward
onto her ass.

Deacon’s head slowly turned toward Tristan. His eyes weren’t

wide, but his expression clearly spoke of how he never expected to

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

see Tristan on his land.

Willingly, that is.
A slow smile played onto his lips. Already Tristan could sense the

sudden rush of blood pumping through Deacon’s body as his heart
hammered inside his chest. He was definitely excited to see Tristan.
“You…to what do I owe this honor?”

Tristan undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt, revealing

much of his neck and chest. He stepped forward until he was well
within Deacon’s personal space then dropped to his knees.

Deacon burst out laughing.
“Oh ho! This is too much!” he hooted, clapping his hands

together, rubbing them but not making any sort of claim to what
Tristan was offering him.

“It must be my lucky day. James finally decided to give in, did

he?”

“No,” Tristan said. Now his heart was hammering. He clenched

his fists into the shorts he wore, hoping the trembling wouldn’t be
noticed. “I killed Tanner. It was an accident. I’m here as your
payment and for your judgement.”

Deacon’s hands were still held together in front of him, but now

he was looking down at Tristan like he’d told the most inappropriate
joke at a funeral.

“What…did you just say?”
Tristan swallowed. “Tanner is dead. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
His next words were cut off when giant fingers wrapped around

his neck, cutting off speech and air supply.

Tristan was hauled to his feet and was put nose to nose with

Deacon. The man’s intense black eyes had turned gold, the pupils
becoming snakelike.

Deacon had done this as though Tristan weighed no more than

twenty pounds.

“You want to repeat that?”
“Ughk!” Was all Tristan could say. He tried to dig his fingers

Marcy Jacks

under Deacon’s knuckles to pry them loose, but it was like a steel
trap. He couldn’t be moved.

“You killed my brother?”
Tristan nodded as best he could. He could feel his face growing

hot from the lack of blood flow to his brain. His lungs constricted,
attempting to force air into them, but Deacon wouldn’t allow it.

He was going to kill him.
Deacon dropped him instead.
Not having expected the action, Tristan was unable to catch

himself, and his legs crumbled beneath him as he fell onto his ass,
sucking back air and coughing when it would not go down properly
due to his near strangulation.

After a couple of seconds of this, he was aware that Deacon was

laughing again.

He looked up just at the alpha reached down and scooped his

hands under Tristan’s armpits, hauling him to his feet.

He wrapped an arm around Tristan’s shoulder, slapping his back

like they were best of friends, and went for a walk. “That sack of shit
has been after my pack for I don’t know how long. You’ve just done
me the biggest favor since my daddy died and handed the pack over to
me.”

The rumour in James’s pack was that Deacon had killed his father

and stolen the leadership, but he wasn’t about to argue. He smiled and
nodded his head, committed to agree with everything Deacon said, so
long as it kept Tristan alive and merged their packs in the coming
fight against the hunters.

“So,” Deacon said, “you came here to make peace with me over

Tanner, eh?”

“Yes, but there’s—”
Deacon’s grip around his shoulders went from friendly to hostile,

and his arm squeezed Tristan around the neck so that he was in an
inescapable headlock. Air circulation cut off once more.

He was beginning to discover what Deacon’s favorite torture

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

method was. Maybe that was why he wanted James’s pond so much.
To drown his enemies in it.

“You get something straight right here and now, boy,” Deacon

hissed, his warm breath in Tristan’s ear making him shiver.

“Just because I ask you a question, does not mean I want you to

answer it. You speak, only when I give you permission to speak.”

He released Tristan, and again he went down, gasping for air.
Deacon flipped him over, and Tristan damn near had the wind

knocked out of him when Deacon’s huge knee pressed down hard
right in the middle of Tristan’s chest.

“Your mouth and tongue belong to me, now,” Deacon said, the

blunt, calloused tip of his thumb brushing against Tristan’s lower lip.
“You only use them when I say, and only on what I want.”

The musky scent of Deacon’s arousal covered Tristan like a heavy

blanket. It smothered him, he couldn’t escape it, and the scent only
magnified when Deacon pressed his cock against Tristan’s hip,
releasing a small groan of approval as he did.

He was hard. Holy shit, this was it. Deacon was going to fuck him

right in his hallway, and Tristan hadn’t even told him about the
hunters yet.

Again, Deacon surprised him when he pulled Tristan to his feet,

all chummy, chummy again with his arm slung around Tristan’s
shoulder.

Again they started walking.
“Bet you’re wondering where we’re going?” Deacon said,

sounding very much like a kid off to play with his new toy.

Recalling the last warning he’d gotten, Tristan only nodded.
“We’re going to have us a little family meeting,” Deacon said,

punching open the door leading outside.

“Roger!” He called.
“Here, sir,” said a tall, muscular man with blond hair and orange

skin, suggesting he’d used some kind of tanning lotion and had done
it incorrectly.

Marcy Jacks

“Wake everyone up and get them in the center yard. We have an

initiation,” Deacon said proudly, squeezing Tristan’s shoulder.

He wanted to fade away and die.
“Yes, sir,” Roger said, not so much as giving Tristan a

questioning look before he turned around to do as he was told.

Deacon had them all under a tight leash all right.
“My beta,” Deacon said, as though Tristan hadn’t already figured

that out for himself. “Does as he’s told, doesn’t ask a lot of questions.
Not too bright. My most excellent hand.”

A loyal follower Deacon liked having around. Great.
Though his neck still burned from the last two times within fifteen

minutes Deacon had choked him, Tristan could not stop thinking
about James and his former pack. They would need to join forces with
Deacon’s pack if they were going to survive the coming attack.

“Deacon—”
A sharp sting on the side of his face that nearly threw him into the

air silenced what he was about to say.

Deacon grabbed him by the shoulders, rubbing them in a soothing

motion as Tristan rubbed his face.

“Now, I know it’s hard at first to live by the rules. You’re too

used to the way things used to be. But don’t you worry,” Deacon said,
his mouth closing in on Tristan’s ear. “Little more help and you’ll get
the hang of it.”

“But—”
Deacon’s fingers put enough pressure on Tristan’s shoulders that

he nearly fell to his knees. He could feel the stubby fingernails
digging into his skin, and he grunted in pain but said nothing else.

After what seemed like an eternity, Deacon released the pressure

and resumed the massage. “Nothing else to say?”

Tristan shook his head.
“Good.”
Maybe Deacon would be more willing to let Tristan talk after he’d

had sex with him. Christ, was this what the other members of his

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

harem had to go through? Was his whole life going to be like this?

No, he thought after a couple of seconds. He would kill himself

before he spent his whole life as a living sex doll. Fuck. That.

The reason, the only reason, he was here was to keep Deacon

from going to war with James and to help their packs work together
when…when Isaac and his team of hunters came to kill them all.

Wouldn’t it be so much more poetic if Isaac was the one to kill

Tristan? It would certainly save him the trouble of doing it himself.

Dumb as it was, he was kind of hoping that Isaac would—
No. He wasn’t going to finish that thought.
He would just do what he came to do, and let that be the end of it.

Marcy Jacks

Chapter Nine

“What d’you think they’re doing?” Dale whispered to Marty.
They were hiding away in the shrubs, watching the werewolves

gather in a circle around the big guy who was apparently the leader
and looked an awful lot like that one wolf Isaac had killed earlier that
night.

Dale’s rifle was held tightly in both hands, the same as everyone

else, but he kept on wiping his sweaty palms onto his pants.

Guy was a little eager to get the show on the road.
The sun was now in the beginning stages of peeking above the

distant  horizon,  which  would  make  it  harder  for  them  to  hide  from
any  pair  of  searching  eyes.  Despite  that,  so  long  as  the  wind  stayed
with them, they were all but invisible to those werewolves out there.
Everyone  knew  werewolves  did  all  their  hunting  and  searching  with
their noses, not their eyes.

“Looks like a gathering,” Marty said. “I’ve seen these before. It’s

always some show of dominance or initiation. Like they can’t just
introduce the new guy and shake hands or something.”

New guy? Isaac searched through all the people standing around.

No one was in their wolf forms, but that didn’t make it easier to see
through them when they all huddled so close like that.

New guy. There was no way in hell Tristan could have—
“Ladies and gentlemen,” their leader called out, clearly in the

mood for a show with the call to attention he just made. “Now that
everyone’s all here, I can introduce to you the newest member of our
pack.”

Their leader was taller than most of his pack members, so Isaac

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

was able to see how he smiled brightly as he hooked his arm around
the shoulders of the person he was bringing in.

The crowd seemed to part for that split second long enough for

Isaac to see Tristan’s unhappy face.

He made eye contact with everyone who stared at him, from the

uncaring to those who growled in disapproval at the sight of him.

Isaac gripped his shotgun tight. This was the pack! This was the

place Tristan was trying to avoid coming to! Had another one of those
motherfuckers over there captured him and brought him in when Isaac
had sent him away?

He would have cocked the shotgun had he not been concerned one

of those weres would hear the loud clicking noise. As it was, he just
sat still and stewed in his rage.

That were up there, the one with the eager smile on his face and

his arm around Tristan’s shoulder, that could only be Deacon. The
wolf Tristan was trying to avoid. From the looks of things, Deacon
was more than eager to get started, and Isaac could already tell what
exactly that was that he wanted to do.

“This is Tristan,” Deacon announced, gripping the side of

Tristan’s neck. “And I am welcoming him as a new member of my
harem.”

Before Isaac could so much as make a shocked gasp over that

revelation, Deacon pulled Tristan close and bit him on the side of the
neck. Tristan made a pained sound.

He must have been getting ready to move in, but a sharp hand on

his shoulder stopped him.

“Easy, son,” Marty said. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
Not soon enough for Isaac when Deacon threw Tristan into the

dirt and began tearing at his clothes.

“Sir, are we just going to let this happen?” Isaac demanded, still

gripping his gun, ready to put a couple dozen silver pellets in that
bastard’s chest.

Marty shrugged. “It’s just a claiming. Wolves do this all the

Marcy Jacks

time.”

Deacon flipped Tristan around, his hand struggling between his

legs to release his cock.

“Anyone else interested in watching gay sex?” Isaac seethed at the

lot of them.

Dale shuddered. “Not really.”
The other three men they’d hired made similar noises of disgust.

Two of whom were also blushing and looking away from the scene.

“Marty?” Isaac demanded.
“That’s the alpha right there,” Marty said. “Wait until he’s at least

started. Put him at a disadvantage for when we jump out at them.”

Tristan released a sharp cry from the center of the clearing, and

Isaac couldn’t wait anymore. He sprung out of the shrubs, pointed his
shotgun, cocked it, and fired.

One wolf was dead, at least, the two others who’d been standing

next to the poor bastard also dropped but only to shriek in pain as the
silver pellets penetrated their hides, burning them from the inside.

Like cockroaches, they scattered at the noise, giving Isaac a clear

shot at their alpha as he ran his naked ass in the other direction.

Some alpha, he wouldn’t even stay and fight.
Didn’t stop Isaac from aiming and shooting another round at him,

just for the silver pellets to strike at an inconvenient pine tree that
Deacon disappeared behind.

“I’m going to kill you!” Isaac screamed.
“Isaac! You son of a bitch!”
It was Marty, and he sounded pissed. He, Dale, and the three hired

hands all came out of their hiding place, guns blazing at the wolves
who bothered to transform now that Isaac had flushed their element of
surprise down the toilet.

Like he cared. He quit.
He ran over to Tristan, who was still face down on the ground,

hands over his head as the bullets zoomed above him.

Isaac took him by the shoulder and spun him around.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Tristan’s fist met his jaw.
That threw him back. He stretched out his jaw until he heard a

light popping sound, and then the pain seemed to decrease a bit.

Tristan was still glaring at him.
“That my glad-to-see-you kiss?” Isaac asked.
“Fuck you,” Tristan responded.
He could have made the obvious come back on that one, but

instead he grabbed Tristan by the elbow and pulled him to his feet.

“We need to get out of here before they kill you.”
Tristan blinked at him. “What?”
“Run!” Isaac yelled, gripping his arm tight and making for the

trees.

Marty and the others could be busy with those wolves for hours,

minutes, or just decide to forgo the hunting and chase after Isaac right
now for the way he’d fucked up their operation.

Either way, he wasn’t about to wait around.
Thankfully, Tristan seemed to be on the same page as he was.
They must have looked quite the sight. Isaac dressed in his regular

leather hunting gear, guns strapped to every place a gun could be
strapped, holding the hand of a naked man, both of them running like
crazy through the shrubs and trees.

Despite the fact that he was wearing shoes and Tristan was

barefoot, Tristan was by far the more graceful between the two of
them, and more than once he had to yank on Isaac’s hand to keep him
from tripping over some goddamn thing that got under his feet.

The sun was completely in the sky by the time they stopped to

rest. Isaac had to force himself to breathe in through his nose, and he
was definitely sweatier than Tristan was, whose breathing suggested
he might have been out for a pleasant jog instead of running for his
life.

“Why did you take me?”
Isaac looked up from between his knees. Currently, he was

fighting to not puke, and the only response he could produce was a

Marcy Jacks

tired “Hwha?”

Tristan already looked ready to go running another round, and he

was staring down at Isaac. There was fire in those green eyes.

Isaac stood straight. The immediate danger was over. By now it

was obvious that Marty and the others would not be following them
yet, but Isaac’s heart was still pumping with the adrenaline of their
escape.

The blood being pumped was all shooting down to one spot in

particular.

When Isaac didn’t answer Tristan’s question, Tristan turned, as

though he was about to leave.

Isaac rushed to him, grabbed him by his arm, and spun him

around.

Tristan did not push him away when he kissed him. He fisted his

hands into Isaac’s leather jacket, nearly tearing it in half when he
pulled it from Isaac’s shoulders.

Immediately some of the unbearable heat that had been building

since he started to run vanished. Thank God, he was about ready to
pass out.

But then the heat from all that running was replaced with a

different sort of high pressure intensity, especially when Tristan
palmed Isaac’s crotch.

Suddenly, speaking and making plans did not seem as important

as ripping the rest of his clothes off and getting Tristan down on his
knees.

He made quick preparation of him before sliding his cock inside

that waiting hole.

Tristan tensed up and hissed, and Isaac paused for just a second

before continuing. One day they were going to have to do this with
actual lubrication and not saliva.

Isaac made quick work of it. This was not lovemaking. This was a

claiming, and he wanted to erase that son-of-a-bitch werewolf from
Tristan’s body forever.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

They both came in a quick rush, their hearts slowing back down to

normal. Isaac kissed the back of Tristan’s neck, and he hugged him.

“I couldn’t leave you there,” he said, answering Tristan’s earlier

question.

“I thought for sure you were going to kill me,” Tristan replied.

“Didn’t realize you were tracing Deacon’s pack though, otherwise I
probably wouldn’t have gone to him.”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against the

smooth skin of Tristan’s back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t stop
him sooner.”

Tristan lifted himself up. They separated and looked at each other.
Isaac could barely look him in the eye. No matter what Isaac had

previously thought of Tristan, he didn’t deserve to be raped like that.

He touched the mark Deacon had made on Tristan’s neck. The

puncture wound was already scabbing, and the blood was dry, but it
was still there for Isaac to see. “I should’ve stopped him sooner.
Christ, I could’ve done something.”

Tristan’s hands went to Isaac’s neck, but not to choke the life out

of him like he deserved. It was a comforting touch, and Tristan’s lips
were soft and forgiving as Isaac cried.

“I know what you’re thinking. He didn’t,” Tristan said, wiping the

moisture from Isaac’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“But I heard him—”
“No.” Tristan’s smile was bright. “Almost. If you’d waited any

longer, it would’ve been his cock instead of his fingers, but he didn’t.
I’m glad you came. I’m glad you still think enough of me to even
want to save me.”

Tristan never stopped smiling, but Isaac couldn’t see the positive

side.

Fingers. The word made him want to shudder. It wasn’t much

better than the alternative, and was still a huge violation, but if Tristan
was happy, then Isaac wasn’t about to take that away.

He was all right, and that was all that mattered.

Marcy Jacks

They pulled each other close, hugging naked on their knees. “I’m

just glad you’re okay.” He’d get to why exactly Tristan would turn
himself over to a wolf that wanted to rape him later.

Maybe they’d get lucky, and Marty would find and skin that son

of a bitch so Isaac wouldn’t have to.

“Come on, the vans are a little farther down the slope,” Isaac said,

getting to his feet and pulling Tristan up with him.

Tristan didn’t speak until Isaac finished putting on his clothes.

“My pack is closer.”

Isaac looked at him.
“Not the pack we just left,” he said quickly. “I mean my first

pack, with James and the others. They can hide us.”

Suddenly something sour entered Isaac’s mouth. “I’m not taking

you back to any wolf pack.”

“They’re not like Deacon and his pack. James is a good leader.”
“Which is exactly why you ran away from him, right?”
Tristan drew himself up, inhaling sharply at the jab. “I left

because I didn’t want to put pressure on them with Deacon constantly
attacking, not because I was afraid they would hand me over.”

“Yet you think they’ll be eager to keep you safe now? With me

beside you? I’m a hunter, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He clipped on his last holster at his waist at those words.
Tristan glared at him. “I didn’t forget it, but I need to tell James

that your friends are coming for them. The only reason why I went to
Deacon was to join our packs so we could stand a chance at surviving
when you came to attack us.”

Now Isaac was starting to get pissed off. Why couldn’t he just

understand?  “You’re  only  saying  those  things  because  you  don’t
know  any  better.  You’re  not  like  the  rest  of  them,  otherwise  you
wouldn’t  have  tried  to  abandon  them.  Werewolves  are  evil  fucking
creatures, and there’s a reason why hunters kill them.”

More and more, Tristan looked like he wanted to punch him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. James, Corey, Mick,

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

none of them are like that. Not one of them. It’s easy for you to call us
evil when you’re the one chasing us down with guns in your hands.”

“I watched my whole family get devoured by werewolves!” Isaac

screamed back, and just for good measure he grabbed Tristan by the
neck and shook him a little. “So don’t you fucking tell me I don’t
know what I’m talking about!”

That seemed to get his attention, and Tristan’s mouth gaped a

little. “I’m sorry,” he said, though that stubborn fire was still in his
eyes. “I’m sorry that someone hurt you, but I’m not like that and
neither are the people I grew up with. We don’t eat people.”

Isaac shoved Tristan away from him, angry and emotional. He

started to pace around the little shaded clearing where they’d had sex,
wishing this could be a whole lot easier for them. That Tristan would
just let Isaac take him away someplace where he could be hidden
from werewolves who wanted to rape him and hunters who wanted to
kill him.

“How close is your pack to here?” He couldn’t believe he was

even thinking about this.

“’Bout five minutes from here. Deacon was always fighting with

James over their land rights.”

Christ, a territory war. He tried to think about where the vans

were,  and  he  had  to  admit  they  were  a  good  deal  farther  than  five
minutes  away.  It  would  take  them  at  least  another  solid  hour  of
running, and there was no guarantee Marty, Dale, or any of the others
hadn’t  been  spared  to  run  back  and  make  sure  that  Isaac  wasn’t
heading straight for their rides to mess things up for them.

“If I walk onto werewolf territory, I do it with my guns in my

hands,” Isaac said finally.

Tristan licked his lips and nodded. “Okay, we just won’t go too

far in. Someone can run to the main house and bring James to us. That
way, if you think you’re in danger, you can just run for it and no one
has to get hurt.”

Isaac wasn’t at all sure that, just running off the pack territory,

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Ten

In his whole life, Tristan never thought he would see the day

where he would willingly show a hunter where his pack lived and
then personally escort him onto the property.

There was no help for it, though. Isaac knew how those men

worked. He would be able to tell James what precautions were best to
take once they found this pack here.

And if they questioned any member of Deacon’s pack before

killing them, they would know that another pack of werewolves were
close by.

As it was, Tristan was pretty impressed with the way things were

working out so far. One of the picnic tables had been brought out for
their meeting at the very border of the land, and he, Isaac, James, and
Corey  were  all  sitting  down  having  their  discussion.  Mick  stood,
leaning  against  a  pine  tree  that  had  had  its  lower  branches  stripped
away,  watching  Isaac  carefully.  Several  other  alphas  were  also
walking  around,  pretending  to  inspect  this  or  that,  but  were  really
glaring at Isaac.

Isaac had, in a show of good faith, taken off his guns ten minutes

ago and set them in the middle of the table for James to see, though
still within easy reach should he need them.

James just continued to give Isaac a narrow look, the look that

said he was thinking.

“He saved my life, James,” Tristan reminded him, gently.
Technically, James was no longer his pack alpha anymore, yet

because of the way the claiming ceremony had gone down, neither
was Deacon.

Marcy Jacks

Despite this, he still spoke to the man with as much respect as he

always had.

“Hmm,” James replied, still staring at Isaac.
That response clearly made Isaac antsy, and Tristan grabbed his

hand below the table, hoping it would help.

“Look, I told you where they are, and I told you what they’re

going to do if they find you. Whether you use that information or not
doesn’t matter to me,” Isaac snapped.

Mick stood away from the tree, but James waved him back.
It was enough to make Isaac tense up even more. Tristan gripped

his hand tighter, silently willing him to not reach for his guns. Don’t
grab for them. Don’t make it worse.

“Isaac,” James said, finally speaking. “As you can see from the

scars on my face, I’ve dealt with hunters before.”

James licked his thumb and straightened out one his black

eyebrows. The one that was half missing.

“So I see,” Isaac agreed.
“In my experience with them,” James continued as though Isaac

had not spoken. “They shoot first and ask questions later, leading me
to believe that this is some kind of gamble you’re making. Gambling
that I won’t kill you and will take you up on the advice you’re so
generously offering, or,” he said, looking at Tristan, “you might have
actually fallen in love with one of my omegas. Either option is pretty
unbelievable, I’ll tell you that.”

James then turned his sharp eyes to Tristan. “Which is it?”
Tristan gulped. Right. Should have figured this question was

coming. “We’re mated.”

Though he didn’t look, he could still see the way Isaac sharply

turned to stare at him from his peripheral vision.

“I’m guessing that means he didn’t know,” James said, more and

more becoming interested in the conversation they were having.

“When did this happen?” Corey asked.
Tristan could only shrug. He didn’t even have the words to

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

describe it.

“That’s impossible,” Isaac said, still staring like a gaping fish at

Tristan. “I’m not a werewolf.”

“I wasn’t a werewolf when James mated with me,” Corey said.
Tristan had to speak up before Isaac got the wrong idea. “No one

is going to turn you into a werewolf just because we’re mates,” he
said, rubbing Isaac’s hand beneath the table until the tense muscles
relaxed. “It’s not like that.”

“Good,” Isaac said.
Tristan didn’t know whether he should be insulted about that or

not.

“In the rest of my experience with hunters,” James said, getting

the conversation back on track. “They don’t leave their normal, apple-
pie lives for no reason. At least, most of them don’t,” he added. “I
don’t know who hurt you or why, but my pack is peaceful. We’re just
trying to get by, and seeing as how you have nowhere to go as of this
morning, and saved Tristan from a fate I certainly wasn’t hoping for
him, and offering us information that might prove to be useful, I can
offer you a room to stay here. You can both bunk up in Tristan’s old
room, seeing as how you’re mated and all,” he said, smiling and
getting to his feet.

“What do you say?” he asked.
Tristan thought it was a great idea, and he wanted nothing better

than to say yes.

If Isaac thought his life was in danger should he be staying,

however, that would just make him antsy and dangerous to be around
for the other werewolves who lived here.

Tristan looked at him, eagerly awaiting his answer.
Isaac bit his lips together. “Only if I can keep my weapons.”
James nodded. “Fair enough. Be warned though, no one here

carries a gun. If someone were to get accidentally shot…” He trailed
off, letting the rest of his sarcastic message sink in with a glare.

Isaac nodded. “Understood.”

Marcy Jacks

All in all, no one had killed each other yet, and Tristan was feeling

pretty damn good about the thought of sleeping in his own bed
tonight.

* * * *

“You didn’t tell them about the money,” Corey said.
James pulled his mate close, sticking his nose into that blond hair

for a sniff. Smelled good.

“What money?” he asked.
“The five grand you put into Tristan’s account. You said they had

nowhere to go. If they’d known about that—”

“What they don’t know right this second definitely won’t hurt

anything. ’Sides, I want to keep an eye on them for now. Can’t do that
if they take off, can I?”

* * * *

“You can put those away, you know. No one is going to attack

you here.”

Tristan glared down at the Glocks that Isaac kept his hands on,

even though they were still in their holsters, just in case.

Tristan was talking as though the possibility of attack was

outrageous, as though even the most gentle of werewolves wouldn’t
want to take a chunk out of a hunter.

Even Tristan thought Isaac would kill him the first time they both

realized what the other was.

“It’s not just them I’m worried about. Marty’s still out there,”

Isaac said, which was perfectly true, and the other half of the reason
why he kept his hands on his guns.

Tristan made a disapproving noise but said nothing else. Isaac

wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.

He was too busy looking into the eyes, some frightened, others

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

shocked and angry, of the many werewolves he passed as they both
went deeper and deeper into the pack territory.

Isaac had never had the chance to see a pack up close and personal

like this. He knew everyone was given a job to help support the
group, but had never actually seen the omegas carrying their laundry
baskets, the children shrieking at each other while running through the
trees, or watched as the alphas came home, walking naked with their
catch in hand. Mostly rabbits and ducks from the look of it.

If he had to guess, he’d say that the omegas carrying their clothes

were going to a stream somewhere to wash them in.

“This pack doesn’t have a lot, does it?”
Tristan shrugged. “We get by. Not like we need to have the

perfect lawn or the newest truck in order to survive.”

That was true, and no one here had the look of someone who went

without food, either.

Finally, Tristan brought him to one of the houses that seemed to

surround a large round clearing in the middle. The grass around here
was patchy and littered with weeds, but in the clearing it was just dry
brown dirt with a couple more picnic tables. Probably where pack
meetings and socials were held. Definitely where the picnic table
Isaac had sat on earlier had come from.

It was a plain, rectangular house, nicer than some of the others by

way of the fact that the roof didn’t look ready to fall off, and that
there was none of that plastic sheeting stuck over any broken
windows. There were no broken windows either for that matter.

Despite this, it was still a far cry from the main house, where,

Isaac had been told, the alpha, his mate, the beta, and the pack’s wise
woman all resided.

Wonder what she’s like?
“I share this house and the rooms with two other omegas, but I’m

the oldest, so I get the biggest room.”

Isaac was only interested in if Tristan also got the biggest bed.
The house appeared to be empty, and it was no wonder why. The

Marcy Jacks

middle of the day, with work to be done, the two other omegas Tristan
spoke of would likely be off helping the rest of the pack, pulling their
weight, not lounging around here.

For the first time, it occurred to Isaac that he might have only

been offered this time alone with Tristan in order for eyes to be kept
on the both of them.

“This is my room.”
Tristan seemed proud of the announcement, and though it was

certainly nothing special to behold, it was definitely better than some
of the places Isaac had laid his head for the night.

Because of the size of the house and the fact that Tristan’s room

was definitely the largest, his room took up an entire end of the
rectangular house. There were windows on all three sides, allowing
for excellent air flow and light. The furnishings were old and sparse,
but Isaac could smell how clean the room was. Bed was a little small,
but two could definitely squeeze in.

“You’re safe here, you don’t have to worry,” Tristan said, his

hands sliding up the flesh of Isaac’s neck, his fingers rubbing into his
hair.

It seemed his thoughts had been going in a similar place to

Isaac’s.

“Did you mean what you said? About us being mates?” he asked.
“I did,” Tristan said. “I didn’t even realize it until you asked me

for my e-mail address, but you are—we are—mates.”

Isaac blew a long breath out through his mouth.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Oh, yeah.” Isaac nodded, his heart doing these mild little jumps

in his chest that made his head feel thick. “I just never knew
werewolves could mate with people outside of their own species.”

“Well, it wasn’t like I did it on purpose. We just find them. The

same way James found Corey. To be honest, though, usually a mate is
found with a female. Breeding and all that.”

Isaac looked at him. “Even Deacon?”

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Tristan nodded. “He would never let his mate watch him lay claim

to anyone else, especially another man, but if you’re attracted to the
same sex, but you’re mated with a female—”

He trailed off and shrugged, as though the answer were clear.
And it was. The only solution to that sort of problem really would

be to just have as much sex outside of the mated relationship as
possible, or else go insane.

That’s how Isaac thought of it, and it was certainly what would

happen to him if he ever found out he had to bond himself forever
with a woman he felt no sexual pull for.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t still planning on ripping the head from that

fucker’s shoulders.

“Don’t think about it,” Tristan said, apparently seeing where

Isaac’s thoughts had gone.

His lips were still soft when they kissed. They were slightly more

pink and plump when he pulled away, too.

God. For a werewolf, even an omega werewolf, Tristan looked so

vulnerable. “It doesn’t mean you have to stay,” he said. “I know that’s
a lot to take in, and I won’t hold it against you if you want to leave.”

Isaac licked his lips, his palm reaching out to the back of Tristan’s

blond head of shaggy hair. “Came this far with you, didn’t I?”

He had no idea if he would ever want to stay within the ranks of

an actual werewolf pack, but he already made his decision the second
he sprang from his hiding place in Deacon’s territory.

He wanted Tristan. He wasn’t about to let anyone else take him

either.

Maybe it was a werewolf mating thing, but again, Tristan seemed

to read Isaac’s thought, and his green eyes sparkled like an emerald in
firelight. With more strength than Isaac was aware he had, Tristan
pulled him close and meshed their lips together.

For the next several seconds, their brains went on vacation as their

mouths worked, hands roamed, and hips collided together.

Oh yeah. That was exactly what Isaac wanted.

Marcy Jacks

Isaac fell to his knees, pulling at the strings of the gray joggers

James had brought for Tristan during their meeting. It took no time at
all, and too much time, to pull them down and let Tristan’s cock
spring free.

For the first time, Isaac allowed himself to admire it. He was

cut—he hadn’t realized werewolves did that—and thick, with heavy
veins running up the base of his prick, reaching the swollen head.

“Please stop looking at it and just put it in your mouth,” Tristan

begged. He was leaning against the wall and was staring down at
Isaac, eager and waiting as patiently as a man developing blue balls
could.

“Like this?”
Isaac opened his mouth and proceeded to worship the organ in

front of him.

Tristan released a throaty gasp, his head banging against the wall

behind him, his hips pumping in small, jerky movements.

This was the first time Isaac had blown Tristan, and he was eager

to see just how the other man would react to this kind of torture.

Isaac stretched his hands out, palms flat against the wall behind

his lover to keep his balance, and as he bobbed his head, he tightened
his lips and swirled his tongue, coming up then sinking back down,
up, then down again.

On the next trip up, he gently scraped his teeth along the sensitive

flesh of Tristan’s cock, stopping just under the head.

That made Tristan’s eyes pop open.
“Not…not that I’m not—enjoying that—fuck—but having

someone biting down on my dick kinda freaks me out.”

Isaac had to pull away before he bit down for real with laughter.

He lost his balance on his knees and went down onto his ass, staring
up at Tristan and laughing like he never had in so many years.

Tristan’s face was red with humiliation and probably a little anger.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, reaching down and helping Isaac to his feet.

Naked, he went over to an ugly blue painted nightstand and pulled

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

out a tube from the only drawer. “We can actually use some of this,
now.”

“Let me guess, you have a Kleenex box under your bed, too?”
Tristan stiffened, and Isaac laughed again, rushing over to him,

grabbing him by the waist, and throwing him down onto the bed
before climbing on top of him like he was getting ready to claim a
prize.

They kissed some more, but there were more important matters at

hand,  and  Isaac  got  back  to  his  knees  long  enough  to  take  off  his
jacket  and  pull  his  shirt  over  his  head.  Tristan  started  licking  and
playing  with  his  nipples  by  the  time  he  reached  down  for  his  belt,
which  slowed  things,  but  Isaac  was  too  horny  to  be  put  off  track  by
more foreplay.

He finally got his pants off and, despite the urgency of the

situation, was careful to put his clothing neatly on top of Tristan’s
nightstand, still aware of all the guns in his holsters and how he didn’t
want them strewn carelessly across the floor.

Then it was back down to business.
Though Tristan had already taken Isaac inside of him, Isaac was

still careful to use as much of the lubrication as possible. The tube
wasn’t exactly small, but Isaac definitely used more than half of it,
eagerly watching Tristan’s face, each squeeze of his eyes shut, every
openmouthed gasp he made as Isaac tortured his prostate.

“I love you,” he said.
Tristan’s eyes popped open at the declaration. Isaac hadn’t even

thought about it before he’d said it. It was just there. Like stating a
fact, no different than if he’d suddenly pointed out that the sky was
blue.

Tristan reached for him. “I love you.”
Isaac never thought he could feel so happy over something so

small.  Tristan  lifted  one  of  his  legs  over  Isaac’s  shoulder,  and  this
time,  unlike  the  last  times  they’d  been  together,  it  was  lovemaking.
The  kind  of  torturously  slow,  thrusting,  kissing,  looking  into  each

Marcy Jacks

others’ eyes sort of thing that Isaac had never experienced before.

What he liked the most was the way Tristan held him, squeezing

him tighter as he moaned, thrusting his hips to meet Isaac.

They stayed almost perfectly in sync with each other until the

pleasure built, and Isaac could take no more and he had to come.

All thoughts of lovemaking vanished in favor of just reaching the

end, and thankfully, Tristan was on the same page as we was about it
as he shifted his hips in time to meet Isaac.

He started speaking gibberish as Isaac slammed into him. “Oh,

Christ, fuck me, yeah.”

It sounded something like that, but repeated over and over again

ten times fast.

Isaac wasn’t sure how this mate thing worked, but as far as soul

mates went, he knew he’d found his, and he was never going to let
Tristan get away from him again.

The room felt like it had gone up a hundred degrees since they’d

started, but despite the heat, Isaac was happy to let Tristan pull him
close on top of the covers of his bed.

Isaac hesitated for a moment before he allowed himself to sink

into the embrace, hardly remembering the last time someone had ever
lovingly held him like this before. Or at all, for that matter.

He hadn’t known he’d needed it so badly until Tristan offered it to

him.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Eleven

“How did your family pass?”
The question was quietly asked, almost fearfully, like Tristan was

afraid of the reaction Isaac would have.

He did tense up a little in Tristan’s arms, not having seen the

question coming, considering the way they were relaxing lazily,
squished comfortably together on Tristan’s small bed.

Isaac had already told him, that his family had been murdered by

werewolves, so this could only mean that Tristan was asking for
specifics.

“I was fifteen,” Isaac said, doing his best to relax in Tristan’s

embrace, and reminding himself that Tristan was not a thing like
those monsters he’d seen way back then. “Nine years ago, my dad
rented a cottage from his boss to take us out for some fun for the long
weekend before summer. There was a private lake there, with a dock,
some paddle boats, a fire pit. You name it and it was probably there.”

The whole time he spoke, Tristan made soothing rubbing motions

along Isaac’s arm, and he was extremely grateful for it. It kept him
grounded here in the present, instead of falling completely back into
his morbid past.

“It was only our second day there, and I can remember it like it

was yesterday. Dad was at the barbecue making supper, Mom was
calling me and Steve out of the water to wash up and get ready, but I
was being a brat about it. I kept stalling, swimming around, didn’t
want to go in and eat the food my dad was making.”

His breath caught a little at the memory, wishing, like he always

did, that he hadn’t been so ungrateful, that he’d come in, said that he

Marcy Jacks

loved them, and fucking did something to protect them.

“Eventually she lost her patience and waved me off, stopped

calling  me,  and  went  back  in  with  Steve,  my  little  brother,”  he
clarified.  “Maybe  she  said  something  to  Dad,  I  don’t  know,  but  ten
minutes later they’re all walking back down to the water with plates
of  food  and  blankets,  like  they’re  going  to  eat  on  the  dock.  I  didn’t
want to get yelled at by my dad, so I was about to come in when they
attacked.”

Isaac still shivered as he recalled the speed in which those massive

animals sped out of the trees and toward his mother first. They were
like brown blurs with teeth.

“They didn’t even see them coming. Dad got out a scream, tried to

pull Steve away before the next one tore his arm and head off like a
shark or something. The third wolf put his teeth around Steve’s whole
torso and bit down.”

Tristan was holding him now, and Isaac thought he just might cry

without that comfort. “I hid under the dock and could hear the sounds
they were making. Every once in a while I’d look through the spaces
in the boards to see what they were doing. They ate the food first then
started ripping at my parents’ skins. Then they turned into naked
people and just kept on eating.”

Tristan pulled Isaac into his arms, kissing his cheeks, neck, and

forehead, and Isaac buried his face against Tristan’s shoulder to
prevent him from seeing his tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Tristan muttered

between kisses. “I promise no one here is like that. No one here will
hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” Isaac said. The but at the end of that sentence

was unsaid.

Tristan nodded and just kept right on rubbing Isaac’s back and

neck.

Maybe he would be able to think of the other people in this pack

as…well, almost something like Tristan, but not now. Right now he

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

was only here, offering to help them, because Tristan insisted on it,
and if he told him that the people here were not dangerous, he would
take his word for it until proven otherwise.

After a minute he sniffed, wiped his face, and got up. “We should

go,” he said.

Tristan nodded. They’d both already showered and dressed, so

now it was just a matter of getting back to James and finishing their
plan of attack.

But then Tristan stopped. “You were fifteen nine years ago?

You’re twenty-four?”

“Yeah?”
Tristan’s lips pulled up in a catty smile. “I’m older than you are.”
“What?” Isaac thought for sure that Tristan was only twenty or

twenty-one. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”
“Christ.” And all this time Isaac had been thinking of Tristan as

some young kid. Well, no harm came in that, did it?

He took Tristan by the hand, wishing he’d wipe his little smirk off

his face as they set off to make plans with James.

* * * *

Marty scarcely allowed himself to breathe. It was a trick most

hunters  would  do  well  to  learn  if  they  wanted  to  survive  in  this
business  longer  than  three  weeks.  The  ability  to  calmly,  and  quietly,
take  in  the  oxygen  they  needed,  even  when  the  heart  pumped  with
adrenaline. Not an easy task at all.

The others breathed so loud, especially the one with the cold, that

if he had a sniper rifle he could take them out in the dark if he wanted
to.

Unprofessional bastards, the whole stinkin’ lot of them. That little

prick Isaac Foster especially, and Marty couldn’t wait to stick his
knife in that fucker’s chest.

Marcy Jacks

If the tracks they’d followed were right, he and that werewolf he’d

taken should be here. Somewhere within one of those shitty looking
houses.

They were careful to stay in ahead of the wind. After figuring out

just which direct the tracks were going, Marty had ordered his men to
go  on  ahead,  scout  the  area,  and  when  they  came  back  with  the
estimate  of  where  exactly  the  pack  had  been  hiding,  Marty  checked
the  wind  and  they  took  the  long  way  around  to  make  sure  no
werewolves would sniff them out when they came upon them.

If some of them went sniffing around in the area where Dale and

the other men had been, that was fine, they would expect the hunters
to be coming from the southern direction, not the north.

Wolves were always so stupid.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Dale muttered, his hands

shaking from the excitement around his rifle.

Hunting down two packs in two days. The money they could get

from selling the pelts of all those wolves would damn near see them
through the winter, and Marty had earned a little vacation.

He could rent a warm, cozy little cabin for the Christmas holiday,

invite his daughters up, and rest his feet over a wolf-skin rug by the
fire.

That sounded so nice.
“They’re in there,” Marty said. “I can see a bunch of them through

the windows.”

“What are they all doing inside?” one of the hired hands asked.

“Thought wolves preferred it outside.”

“Maybe they’re eating dinner.” With the apparent threat of any

wolf hearing it gone, Marty cocked his weapon. It made a satisfying
click as it spat out an empty shell.

“I don’t like it,” said another hand.
“You want to get paid or not?” Marty hissed. “The money’s in

their pelts. We get no pelts to sell, we get no money, end of story.”

His bones were aching much too hard for him to be having these

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

arguments, and for the first time in a long time, the promise of such a
large reward was making him eager to get started as well. Almost as
eager as Dale, who cocked his own weapon.

“I could use a new truck,” he said, grinning.
Marty turned to address the three hands. “We’ll use the tear gas.

Get out your masks. We’ll smoke ’em out and pick ’em off before
they even know what hit ’em.”

Isaac’s voice answered him from above. “That’s usually how you

do it, isn’t it?”

The sudden fear of a trap came on him too late before a heavy

weight smashed down onto his back. He screamed loud, and so did
Dale and his three hands as more alpha wolves came down on them
from the trees like falling fucking apples.

Marty heard the crunch in his shoulder, and the pain was damn

near blinding.

“Isaac!” he shrieked, just to keep himself from screaming in pain.

“You fucking cocksucking traitor!”

Isaac took him by the back of his jacket and yanked him up,

completely oblivious to the pain he was causing him. “You’re not
taking this pack,” he hissed in his ear.

Marty tried to spit in his face, but his awkward, twisted position,

made things difficult, and he missed.

One look and he could see that Dale and one of the hired hands

were already dead. Maybe their necks had been broken from having
two hundred pounds of muscled werewolf fall on top of them, Marty
couldn’t tell. Of the other two, one was sobbing like a little girl, his
arms twisted so tightly around his back it looked as though they might
pop out of his joints. The other stayed on his knees, a bleeding gash
alongside his head, but otherwise he glared silently at his captors.

A true warrior. Marty should have focused his attention on him

instead of Isaac.

“How can you betray us? You told me what they did to you. How

can you work with them?” Marty demanded.

Marcy Jacks

Isaac’s jaw and neck went tight, but he didn’t even move until

someone called his name.

“Isaac!”
Isaac spun at the sound, and Marty watched as that werewolf from

earlier, the one he’d stolen from the other pack, ran over to him and
threw his arms around his shoulders.

“Christ, are you okay? Is it over?”
“Told you it would be fast,” Isaac responded then looked over to a

larger man with a scarred face. Clearly the alpha.

The alpha nodded. “You told us the truth. Thank you.”
Isaac had given them their hard-won tactical secrets. That dirty

fucking…

“Tell me, Isaac, you a pitcher or catcher?” Marty sneered.
“Fuck off, Marty,” Isaac snapped.
“You know how we work, son,” Marty said. “They’ll kill us, but

for every one they kill, five more will come looking, and they’ll skin
that boy alive. They’ll burn his still-living body and then piss on his
ashes.”

The blond werewolf, the one Isaac had fucked them all over for,

was the one to step forward and punch him in the jaw.

The strike was so powerful Marty was powerless to fight against

the blanket of darkness that swept over him. They would kill him
now, but at least he would be passed out for it. There were better
ways to die, more glorious, but as far as death went in the hands of the
enemy, this one wasn’t bad.

* * * *

“What will you do with them?” Isaac asked, though he had a

feeling he didn’t want to know. He was hardly friends with any of
these men, Christ, they could barely all stand to work together, but it
chilled him to know that they were probably going to die while Isaac
would go free because he’d mated with Tristan.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

“We’ll question them first, make sure they didn’t send anyone else

our way. After that…” James trailed off with a shrug, meaning, yeah,
these guys were going to get murdered somewhere out in the woods.

But that was the way it was in the war between hunters and

werewolves.  They  killed  each  other  at  every  opportunity  they  could
get.  The  werewolves  at  least  did  it  to  survive,  and  only  when
necessary,  whereas  the  hunters  went  out  and  searched  for  trouble  on
purpose.

Isaac told himself not to feel sorry for those men just because

they’d shared a campsite for a couple of days. They were the same
men who’d put his gun in a tree over a river, not caring if he fell in
and knowing he couldn’t swim. They would have watched Tristan be
raped right before they decided to murder both him and his rapist.

Regardless of whether or not this pack was as good and peaceful

as Tristan claimed, Isaac would be forever grateful that he’d met
Tristan and got out of the hunter life before he became as crazed for
revenge as these people.

A warm hand slipped into his own, and he squeezed back, looking

into Tristan’s green eyes, smiling.

“Maybe we should get out of here before they start. They’re never

very cruel about it, but I don’t think we should watch.”

“Good idea,” James answered for him, eyeing Isaac. “I’ll call you

back if we need anything. Tristan, I want you to tell Corey that I’ll be
a couple of hours.”

Tristan nodded, and they both turned to go.
“What will they do to them?” Isaac whispered, not wanting Mick

or James or any of the wolves behind him to hear what he was saying
until they were a fair distance away.

“Don’t know,” Tristan whispered back. “This is only the second

time this has happened in our pack, where hunters were captured,” he
clarified. “The last time the alphas stayed away for a couple of hours
with them, and they all came back looking bloody and green.”

So the alphas didn’t much like the torture process either. Well,

Marcy Jacks

hopefully that would be punishment enough for what they had to do.

For now, Isaac himself would need to find a way to make amends

for the lives he’d taken in the name of revenge. There weren’t
hundreds, like Marty, but enough that he would have to pay for it
somehow.

There was a sound of a scuffle behind them and a shout. Isaac

looked behind them just to see the last of the living hands, Isaac
couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, grab one of the guns the
hunters had dropped in the shrubs, and then point it at Tristan’s back.

Isaac moved just as the shot from the supressor on the weapon

pinged out. His first thought, his first emotion, really, was a crashing
wave of fear that stopped his heart and stole his breath.

He hadn’t been fast enough. He didn’t get in front of Tristan fast

enough and now he was shot. Tristan was going to die. That was the
punishment Isaac would face for his years as a hunter. The death of
his soul mate.

The thought rocked him to his core and stuck a burning pain deep

in his chest, and the ground sprung up to meet his face.

“Isaac!” Tristan’s shout sounded far away, but then his face came

into view, worried, alive.

He smiled, recognizing the pain in his chest for what it really was.
Isaac had been shot.
Thank God.
“Isaac, stay awake. Isaac!” Tristan shouted again.
Isaac lifted his hand, it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and

touched Tristan’s wet face. He wanted to tell him that he was okay,
but only an airy exhale escaped his mouth when he opened it. Then
his world went dark, and he was happy.

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

Chapter Twelve

Isaac came to, not knowing how much time had passed, his head

felt thick, chest burned like there was a fire inside of it, and his mouth
was dry as all hell. He felt like absolute shit, and a bright piercing
light was stabbing him in the eyes.

He groaned and tried to turn away.
“Isaac? You awake?”
Tristan. He sounded much healthier than Isaac felt.
“Window,” he muttered.
There was a shuffle of feet, and then the brightness was turned

down to something he could better manage as the curtains were pulled
shut.

“Better?” Tristan asked. He sounded as eager as someone whose

lover had just woken up from a coma.

“Much,” Isaac replied. “Thirsty.”
Tristan was quickly proving himself to be a competent nurse,

because the next second there was a plastic cup pressing against his
lips and cool water trickled into his mouth.

Tristan had a cloth with him, and he wiped Isaac’s mouth when he

finished. “Can I get you anything else.”

“Kiss,” he said.
Tristan made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a

sob, and then Isaac received his kiss.

By the way Tristan’s mouth trembled, he could sense the sheer

wanting and happiness in the other man, but Tristan held back,
keeping the joining of their mouths chaste, but no less filled with
love.

Marcy Jacks

“I thought you were going to die,” he said when he pulled away,

and it was then that Isaac realized he was crying. “Christ, your heart
stopped for a minute there. I thought you were dead for sure, and I
don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d left me alone.”

Isaac was glad neither of them would have to find out. “My heart

stopped?” he asked, his vision becoming clearer as the conversation
went on.

Tristan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed.

“Yeah. Mick had to get it started again for you. Old Maggie was the
one to dig out the silver bullet and give you some of her herbs and
stuff to get your fever down. I was so scared I would never see your
weird, pretty purple eyes ever again.”

“How long was I out for?”
Speaking of eyes, Tristan’s eyes were red and slightly swollen

from many tears shed over a long period of time. “Four days.”

Four days. Jesus. Not only did one of the wolves give him CPR

instead of just letting his unworthy ass die, but they’d also gotten one
of their own to take a bullet out of him, a silver bullet, of all things.
Then they’d nursed him for four days.

If there was ever a time for them to turn into monsters and eat him

alive, while he was the most helpless would have been the perfect
opportunity.

Despite that, here he was, alive, breathing, and in the most decent

shape as could be expected considering he’d been shot and was not
receiving any care from an official hospital.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Isaac said.
“What?” Tristan had grabbed him by the hand and was clutching

it as though Isaac would be taken away from him should he let go.

“For saying those things I did before coming here. For thinking

your kind was all monsters.”

“You don’t have to say it.”
“I do. I’m sorry.”
Tristan nodded, accepting his apology and kissing his hand. “I

The Hunter’s Omega Mate

knew  how  much  you  were  worried  we  would  try  and  change  you.
James  offered  to  do  it.  If  you  became  a  werewolf,  your  healing
abilities  would’ve  guaranteed  you  would  be  fine  after  a  couple  of
hours. That’s the reason Corey was transformed. He would’ve died if
James hadn’t done it. But I told them not to.”

Isaac nodded. Grateful that the decision hadn’t been taken away

from him. He might now be reconsidering his original beliefs about
werewolves, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be anything less than a
Homo sapiens.

“I guess being shot is my punishment,” he said. “I’ll take it, all

things considered.”

Tristan’s lips quirked. “Yeah, it went around among the pack how

you took a silver bullet for me. Everyone’s rooting for you to pull
through, now.”

Well, at least that meant this next part would come a little easier.
“If you want to, I won’t ask you to leave your pack.”
Tristan’s emerald eyes were still bright with unshed tears.

“Really?”

“I mean, I’ll have to build us a new house if we’re going to stay

here, because there’s no way I want to share a place with roommates
who can hear us having sex all the time.”

Tristan laughed. “Whatever you want. I can go out and chop you

down some lumber if it will help.”

Isaac would do this, too. A nice project that he and Tristan could

have all to themselves.

Tristan was still smiling at him, like what he was saying wasn’t

real. “That sounds like it could be nice.”

He thought Isaac was making pie-in-the-sky plans. “No, we can

do it. I have the money for it. My parents were all about saving
everything they could. That’s why we would always rent a cottage a
couple days of the year instead of buying one of our own. I inherited
everything when they died.”

Tristan’s eyes were as round as golf balls now, and Isaac could

Marcy Jacks

see the whites all around the pupils. “You’re serious?”

Isaac nodded. “We have more than enough to build a house and

fix up the ones here that need it.”

Isaac had never known what to do with all the money he’d been

left  with.  He  had  barely  touched  it  since  it  landed  in  his  account,  so
likely  there  would  be  more  since  the  last  time  he  checked  on  it.
Spending  money  he’d  come  to  only  after  the  brutal  murder  of  his
family hardly seemed like the appropriate thing to do, but now he had
someone he wanted to spend that money on.

He wanted a life with Tristan, and if Tristan’s life was here, Isaac

would happily settle down with him.

Tristan kissed him, this time adding in a little of that passion and

pressure he’d wanted to from before.

It still wasn’t enough for Isaac. “When do you think I’ll be healed

enough so we can…” He grinned at Tristan, letting his lover figure
out the rest of the sentence on his own.

Tristan grinned and planted another soft, wet kiss on his mouth.

“That’s up to Old Maggie. She’s the one in charge of your healthcare.
For now. And you humans heal so goddamn slow.”

Fuck. Not what Isaac wanted to hear. “I’ll have to be extra nice to

her then so she can give me the go-ahead.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need her permission if you want head.”
Isaac gasped as Tristan pulled the bed sheets away from his

middle,  exposing  his  naked  body.  Isaac  looked  down  and  noted  the
heavily  wrapped  bandage  on  his  chest,  right  over  the  spot  that  still
burned  and  pained  him,  but  that  only  took  up  half  a  second  of  his
attention  before  his  eyes  zoned  in  on  the  way  his  heavy  cock
disappeared between Tristan’s pink lips.

“Oh, well then.” He sighed, letting his head fall back onto the

pillows. “Don’t let me stop you.”