“I’m not really that type, either,” Trigger confessed. “I don’t do much talking about those things myself, but I figured I’d give you an ear if you wanted to rant and rave.”

  Trigger was careful around Dean’s stitches, and Dean knew he shouldn’t be getting them wet, but at this point, he just didn’t care. “Just want some sleep.”

  “I feel you on that.” Trigger started on Dean’s ass, but Dean spun and took the cloth from Trigger’s hand.

  “I can wash myself.” He stared up at Trigger, his heart picking up speed, his breath coming out in short pants. Steam gathered around them. Dean wasn’t sure if water or sweat was dripping down his scalp and face. His cock hardened as he gazed into Trigger’s gray eyes. “Damn you,” he gritted out. “Why can’t I stop wanting you?”

  Trigger worked his jaw back and forth. “You seemed to be doing one hell of a job denying me all week.”

  Staying on the couch instead of going to Trigger’s bed had been the hardest thing Dean had ever done. More than once he’d gotten up and wandered down the hallway, but, at the last minute, forced himself to turn around and get back on the overstuffed couch.

  Trigger glided his strong hands over Dean’s sides and moved them around until he cupped Dean’s ass. He pulled Dean close, and their cocks nearly aligned as Trigger lowered his head and kissed along Dean’s jaw.

  “What’re you doing?” Dean pressed his hands against Trigger’s chest, but didn’t push him away. In truth, this was what Dean craved. The closeness, the touching, kissing, and what was certain to come next. He needed to lose himself in something other than his thoughts, in something other than what had taken place tonight.

  Dean was in an unfamiliar world—a world filled with things that went bump in the night. Things that shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

  He moaned as he let his head fall to the side, the water beating at his back as Trigger kissed and licked at his front. His lips glided along Dean’s neck as his hands kneaded Dean’s ass.

  “You’re not the only one who can’t stop wanting.” Trigger’s right hand moved between them. He curled it around Dean’s cock and ran it up and down Dean’s hard length, making him hiss as he punched his hips forward, fucking Trigger’s hand.

  Trigger took his lips in a kiss that made Dean’s toes curl. He moved until he had Dean against the wall, their tongues tangling, Trigger’s hand working magic on Dean’s dick, his other hand slowly sliding toward Dean’s aching hole.

  “Never wanted someone so badly in my life,” Trigger confessed against Dean’s lips.

  “Bet you say that to all the guys you’ve held hostage on these mountains.”

  Trigger pulled back and stared deep into Dean’s eyes. “I’m not holding you hostage, Dean. You saw I was ready to let you go.”

  The catch in Trigger’s voice stunned Dean. Judging by the way Trigger looked at him, letting Dean go was the last thing he wanted to do. He thought of his empty life back home and wondered what he was so desperate to return to. Being on these mountains and hanging around the Rising men was, sadly, the closest thing Dean had to a social life.

  He wrapped his hand around Trigger’s cock and stroked him, watching as Trigger’s eyelids fluttered closed. He heard the hiss and smelled the strong soap as Dean gathered some in his hand, then went back to jacking Trigger off.

  “No.” Trigger clenched his jaw as he grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Not like this. You’re trying to detach yourself.”

  That was exactly what Dean had been doing. He didn’t want to fall for Trigger. He didn’t want to continue craving the man as much as he already did. Investing his feelings would make leaving all the harder. “What do you want from me?”

  Trigger swung him around and pinned him against the glass wall. He slid a hand over Dean’s throat, then kissed him until Dean’s lungs burned for air. To Dean’s surprise, Trigger hauled him off his feet. Dean instinctively looped his legs around the man’s waist. “I want passion, loyalty, trust, commitment. I want you as deeply invested in this as I already am.”

  Dean dug his nails into Trigger’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as Trigger reached below Dean’s ass. The head of Trigger’s cock pressed at his hole. “But most of all, I want your happiness, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

  Dean sucked in a breath before Trigger drove deep inside him. He was afraid the shower wall would break with the pounding Trigger gave him.

  “I want to wake up next to you every morning, and fall asleep with you curled over me. I want to argue, get mad, then fuck you until you’re happy again.”

  Oh God! He wasn’t going to survive this assault. Trigger held Dean, thrusting upward, his canines showing as he stared at Dean with such passion and heat in his gray eyes that Dean should’ve melted on the spot.

  “I want you to have my babies, as many as you want to give me. I want to grow old with you, and have to rub pain relief ointment on each other every night before we crawl into bed. I want to place the world at your feet. Do you finally understand what I want from you?”

  “Yes!” Dean arched his back as he cried out his release. His cum splattered between them as Trigger bit Dean’s shoulder. Trigger growled, his movements frantic before he slowed, rocking in and out of Dean as he extracted his teeth.

  Trigger kissed his shoulder. “Any more questions?”

  Dean chuckled and slapped Trigger’s chest. “Just take me to bed so I can sleep.”

  With Dean still wrapped around his waist, Trigger cut the water, grabbed a towel from the shelf, and walked into the bedroom. He set Dean on his feet, then dried him from head to toe.

  Never had anyone pampered him like this before. Dean grabbed the towel from Trigger. “I can dry myself.”

  “You’re one stubborn-ass man.” Trigger snatched the towel back and dried his own body. Dean simply stood there, drinking in every wet inch of Trigger.

  Trigger tossed the towel aside when he was done. “You can look at me that way after we’ve gotten some rest.”

  With a deep yawn, Dean slid into bed. He said nothing when Trigger curled around him. After what they’d been through in the woods, having Trigger so close made Dean feel safe.

  He snuggled closer before he drifted off to sleep.

  * * * *

  Two weeks passed without another nighttime incident. Trigger didn’t like the fact Dean had called headquarters, but his mate had told whomever he spoke with that they were working on leads to find Blake. From the shouting on the other end, Trigger could tell that Dean was getting his ass handed to him.

  That pissed Trigger off, but he didn’t take the phone from his mate and threaten the life of the person on the other end. When Dean hung up, he turned to Trigger. “I’ve been ordered to return to Washington.” Dean bit his lip. “Actually, Nolan and I were ordered.”

  “I need to talk to Clint.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you guys decide. I have to go. I just have to figure out how I’m gonna take Nolan with me.”

  “The snow leopard alpha attacked and killed him.” Trigger didn’t see how hiding the truth would benefit them. Dean needed to know so they could figure out what they needed to do. “He was a threat to these mountains, and some aren’t so inclined to take chances.”

  Dean pressed his palm against his forehead as he closed his eyes. “Did you just say snow leopard, as in a ‘cat that can shift into a man’ kind of snow leopard?”

  Over the last fourteen days, Dean had adjusted to being in the mountains. He hadn’t tried to escape, or asked Trigger to drive him into town. He’d hung out with Benny and Elijah more and more, and his stomach was starting to swell slightly. But it was Benny and Elijah’s stomach’s that had convinced Dean that he was indeed pregnant.

  And that night hadn’t gone over so well. Dean had hit the roof, threatening to cut Trigger’s nuts off.

  “Yes, that kind of snow leopard. And you’re not going to Washington, Dean. No fucking way am I letting my pregnant mate travel that far.”

  “That would be better than the FBI coming here,” Dean argued.

  “Just let me talk to Clint.”

  “Why?” Dean threw the phone aside. “You said I’m not a hostage. Let me go and smooth things over. While I’m there, I’ll resign. But I’m not gonna sit around and wait for the other shoe to fall. I have to tackle this head-on.”

  “You’re not going,” Trigger argued.

  “I’m going.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Fuck you.” Dean strode toward the door in his boxers. Trigger really did need to buy his mate some clothes, although he enjoyed watching Dean run around in his clothes, or move through the house completely naked.

  “Dean,” Trigger said in a warning growl. “Don’t you dare walk out that door.”

  “I’m going to talk to Clint myself. He’ll see reason. You can stand here and pout.” Dean headed out, the screen door slamming behind him.

  Trigger wanted to pull his hair out. He stormed after his mate, ready to haul Dean back inside. He came to a stop when he noticed Dean simply standing there, staring toward the clearing. The scent of Dean’s fear nearly choked him. “What is it?”

  “Someone was just beyond the trees, watching me.”

  Trigger turned right, then left, trying to spot the person Dean had seen. The sun had already set, and the moon was climbing higher in the sky. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and pulled him back toward the house. Dean didn’t argue as he hurried to the door.

  “You need to give me back my weapon,” Dean snapped when they reached the kitchen. “I’m not going to be helpless while living in the middle of nowhere.”

  Trigger strode to the liquor cabinet. He reached on top of it and pulled Dean’s weapon down. He wasn’t sure a bullet would stop whatever was out there, but being armed wouldn’t hurt.

  He snagged the discarded phone and dialed Clint. “I need you over here. We got a problem.”

  “On my way,” Clint said before hanging up.

  Trigger went back to the kitchen. His heart thumped hard when he saw that Dean was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  Dean was dizzy from the rapid speed, but he managed to yank his wrist free as they made the clearing. Nails like talons scraped across his skin, leaving behind long red marks as Dean hit the ground, then scrambled to his feet.

  The air smelled like wet earth after a storm, like a dug-up grave, rotten and gag-inducing.

  The thing had been so fast that Dean hadn’t had time to shout or get out of the way when it grabbed him from the yard. Now that he was in danger, he realized that going outside to wait for Trigger maybe hadn’t been the brightest move.

  Dean dropped to the ground and rolled when the thing reached for him. If he looked real close, with a steady eye, the thing in front of him might resemble a human. Its skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. From so many years of living in a cave? Its eyes were weird, too. The irises and pupils were so dark that the colors blended.

  Even with nothing more than the moon for light, it squinted, as if the glow hurt its eyes.

  It opened its mouth and hissed, showing off a row of jagged, sharp teeth, so yellow that they looked like pieces of corn stuck in its gums. But Dean was willing to beat they could cut through flesh with ease.

  Dean rolled again when it tried to grab him again. He ground his teeth when he rolled onto his injured side. He’d go down fighting if he had to. He’d be damned if he became its next victim.

  Ignoring the low throb of pain, he leaped to his feet and backed away. His hand instinctively went to his side, but his weapon wasn’t there. Hadn’t been there for weeks.

  The thing made a wet, smacking sound as—God, please tell me that isn’t its tongue—the tip of something black snaked out and ran across its withered bottom lip.

  With no gun to shoot the creature, Dean grabbed a thick stick and waved it at the thing. The end was pointed, sharp, and if Dean had to, he’d shove the end into its chest.

  He’d never killed anyone before, but then again, this thing didn’t qualify as a living being. At least, he didn’t think so.

  It dodged closer and Dean stabbed the stick forward. The sharp tip hit its arm, and the thing snarled as it jerked its arm back. Dark, almost-black blood oozed from the wound.

  If it bleeds, you can kill it.

  With that thought, Dean kept stabbing the stick at the thing, but soon realized it was toying with him. Judging by the speed it had shown, and the strength it had possessed, it would be able to take Dean down without breaking a sweat.

  He just had to keep it from grabbing him before help arrived. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not going to be your next meal.”

  The stick wasn’t very big, just a branch that had fallen from one of the trees, but the longer Dean held on to it, the heavier it became. His arms burned with exertion, and his hands hurt from gripping the knotted bark. All he wanted was to drop it and take a seat to catch his breath.

  The thing rushed to Dean’s left so fast that he hadn’t seen it move. It had been in front of him one second, and the next, it was gone. Dean swung around, jabbing his makeshift weapon at it, praying he could keep it back.

  The creature grabbed Dean’s stick and curled its talons around the end, then yanked its arm back, taking the stick with it. Dean’s hands stung from the sudden, high-speed move. He glanced quickly at his palms to see the stick had cut his skin. Tiny droplets of blood formed over the jagged lines.

  It tilted its head back and sniffed the air, the move reminding Dean of a dog. The black tip once again skirted along its withered lip. It lowered its head, its eyes locking on to Dean’s hands.

  “Shit!” Dean spun and took off, but he didn’t get far before a heavy weight on his back took him down. Dean landed so hard, the air was knocked from his lungs.

  A roar echoed through the woods as Dean fought to get out from under the creature. Pain seared across his back, as if someone had touched a torch to his skin. Dean threw up when the thing’s tongue slid over his back.

  “Get off me, you nasty piece of shit!” Dean twisted, swung his arm back, his elbow connecting with its face. But as hard as Dean had powered his elbow, the thing hadn’t moved.

  The same bear that had scared the mountain lion away charged through the trees. And he wasn’t alone. Two more bears were close behind him. The lead bear’s roar was ferocious as he charged forward.

  The thing leaped from Dean’s back, then grabbed Dean’s arm as if trying to take him with it. When Trigger—Dean assumed the lead bear was Trigger—grew closer, the thing released Dean and took off in the direction of the lake.

  The bears with Trigger pursued the thing as Trigger shifted and dropped next to Dean. “Don’t move, sweetheart. Don’t try to get up.”

  Dean panted in pain. “That bad?”

  “You want the truth?”

  The two bears came back. They shifted into Clint and Walker. Dean was in so much pain that their nudity barely registered.

  “Go get Deloris,” Trigger told them.

  Walker took off as Clint shifted back into his bear and circled them, as if guarding them in case that thing came back.

  “The fucker licked me,” Dean gritted out. “It fucking licked me like I was some kind of ice cream cone.”

  Trigger ran his hand over Dean’s hair. “How’d it get to you? You were in the kitchen.”

  Dean closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded arms. Even with his eyes closed, the world felt as if it were spinning. Sharp spikes of pain throbbed at his back and bile rose to the back of his throat. He barely managed not to throw up a second time.

  “I can tell you one thing,” Dean said, curling his fingers into his injured palms, “that story was real.”

  * * * *

  Trigger couldn’t put his rage into words. He stood by as he watched Deloris clean and stitch Dean’s back together. Thank fuck the wounds weren’t that deep, but the slash lines were long, extending from his left shoulder blade to just above the swell of his ass on the right side.

  “They have to be in a cave close by,” Clint said as he stood there and watched Deloris, as well.

  Trigger was still having a hard time believing the story had been true. His entire life he’d discounted it as bullshit, another one of his father’s tactics to scare the hell out of them. When Trigger was young, it had worked. He’d been too afraid to go into the woods by himself. As he got older, common sense and logic had kicked in, and he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for such nonsense.

  Now? He wanted to hunt those creatures down and light them on fire. If his father hadn’t been such a coldhearted dick in life, Trigger might have whispered an apology to the man’s soul, which was probably burning in the fiery pits of hell.

  “Luckily I still have some antibiotics from the last time he was injured,” Deloris said as she finished stitching Dean up.

  “Will they hurt the cub?” Trigger asked.

  “Infection left untreated can harm your mate and cub, Trigger. The stuff I’ll give him will be safe.” She patted him on the arm. “No worries.”

  In truth, Trigger had started seeing Deloris as more than just Benny’s mom. She not only took care of the wounded, but she made a mean tuna casserole, got on the brothers when they acted like idiots, and was really easy to talk to.

  “Thanks.” Trigger gave her a gentle hug.

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she said. “Now I have to get back to my mate. Abe is going over plans to build us our own little love nest.” She winked at him before heading to the door. “Keep those stitches dry and put the salve over the wounds until I tell you otherwise. I’ll send Benjamin over here with the antibiotics.”

  She was so short and adorable that Trigger had an urge to pat her on her head. But he didn’t because he liked having two hands.

  “I have a meeting set with the other shifters in these mountains,” Clint said after Deloris left. “They need to know what’s going on, and we could use their help.”