Carved in Wood
by Sean Michael
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Will mating muddy the waters or make everything clear?
In a world where werewolves are hunted and killed, Wood runs a group that smuggles wolves out of the city to safety. When Daniel arrives, nearly dead with a silver bullet in his shoulder and a horror story about work camps, Wood begins to question whether or not he's helping anyone at all. Is he simply smuggling them out of the frying pan and into the fire?
As Daniel heals, he and Wood form a bond, coming together in a way neither of them has ever felt before. Can a rescue turn into love, or is the world Daniel and Wood live in too screwed up for that emotion?
Daniel parked his truck in the garage and sat there, breathing hard, sweat making his T-shirt stick to his chest and back. The silver bullet in the back of his shoulder burned, making his shoulder feel swollen and raw. His skin had healed well enough over the last few days, but it was getting worse, the bullet grinding on his bone.
Fuck, he was tired.
Daniel slipped out of his Chevy and headed toward the elevator. All he had to do was check in, using Sam’s ID, and meander up to his room. Sam had been dead for six days. The thought was still enough to make his breath catch. Six. Days. He closed his eyes, saying a soft prayer for his brother. He could do this. He could.
He headed across to the elevator and watched as the doors slid open, revealing a big stud of a man leaning against the back of the little box.
The guy came out, an eyebrow rose, and then the guy frowned and leaned in toward him. “You’re a little fuzzy around the edges.”
“I…” Fuck. Fuck, he couldn’t fight. Not right now. He just couldn’t.
“Wrong door.” He turned, heading back for his truck, grateful as fuck that he was only two spaces away.
A low growl sounded, and his arm was grabbed in a strong hold. “Seriously, are you trying to get yourself killed?”
He cried out, snapping, the pain shooting up his arm.
The guy dragged him behind a column. “Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to help.”
“I don’t know you. I was going to get a room!” Fucktard.
“You were going to get yourself killed. They’ve got hunters as security here.” The hold on his arm never loosened. The guy looked right and left, then began to drag him away from the elevator, and from his truck.
“My truck.” His feet felt heavy, and he could hear his heart beating.
“Probably reeks of whatever bumpkin area you’re coming from.” The guy kept dragging him, then stopped in front of a black SUV.
“F…fuck off.” So he wasn’t a city wolf. So the fuck what.
The guy ignored him, pushing him into the SUV and slamming the door closed. His shoulder banged into the seat, and he almost lost it, his eyes rolling back in his head.
This guy climbed into the driver’s seat, scented the air, and frowned. “You’re hurt?”
“I’m okay.” No way was he confessing to the injury. “Just need my truck, man.”
The guy started the engine and pulled out of his parking spot. “You do know they hunt us, right?”
“I’ve heard the stories.” He knew. Sam knew. They all knew. More than anyone, he knew.
“They aren’t just stories.”
If he wasn’t so pissed off, he’d think this guy’s growl was awesome. “Okay. Drop me off at my truck.”
“It’s not safe.” They drove right out of the parking garage.
“You’re not safe.” He reached for the door. He didn’t trust this guy. He was never going to trust anyone ever again.
“Safer than what’s in that hotel.” There was a loud click—the sound of the locks being thrown—and they turned onto the road.
“My truck.” His hands were sweating, starting to shake. Fuck.
“Someone’ll get it for you. Bring it.”
“Bring it where? I just got here.” And he couldn’t go any farther. He had to stop, to rest. His fucking shoulder was killing him.
“I can’t tell you where. Not until we know you’re not a spy.”
“A spy for who? Shit, I just wanted to sleep.” Rest. Take a fucking pain pill.
“You can where we’re going. You really don’t know how bad it is here? There’s people actively hunting us. It’s nasty shit.”
“Oh.” Yeah. Yeah, he knew all about nasty shit. He’d thought it was safer in the cities, but, hell yeah, he knew.
They made several rights and then a couple of lefts. It felt like they were going in circles, but he couldn’t tell. Hell, he could barely fucking see. Eventually, they pulled into another parking garage.
“You still with me?”
“Uh-huh. We done?” He was tired.
“We’re here.” The guy turned off the engine and came around to his door. His hand wrapped around Daniel’s arm again and dragged him out of the SUV. He flipped open a cell. “It’s Wood. I’m bringing one in. I think he’s hurt. Yeah, we’re here already. ’Kay.” Then the guy—Wood—closed and pocketed the phone before dragging him to an elevator.
“I just want to sleep.” He needed to rest. Breathe.
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