Blue Mountain (Pack 1)

Mitch shook his head.

“Okay, so no on that plan.” Frederick pursed his lips thoughtfully and kept pacing. “Here’s what I think we should do. The Omega set up camp, so he wasn’t just passing through. He came here for a reason. We need to figure out what that is and then we’ll know more about him.”

The first stirrings of hope blossomed in Mitch’s chest. “I forgot Pat and those guys said he had a camp. We can get his things.”

“Good idea,” Frederick said. “Bringing him his belongings will earn his trust.”

“That too. After I look through them.”

“You’re going to go through his things without his permission?”

Mitch arched his eyebrows. “Freddy, I have the guy tied up in my house right now and you think I’m going to have a problem looking at his stuff?”

“Donia would kill me if I invaded her privacy like that.”

“He’s my mate!” Mitch jumped to his feet. “He has no privacy from me! He can’t run from me! He’s mine!”

“Whoa.” Frederick held his hand out. “Calm down. You sound like a maniac.”

Mitch rubbed his hands over his scalp and growled. “My emotions are out of control.” Probably because his hormones were out of control. Having a neglected erection for half a day was frustrating and painful.

“Hey, that’s great.”

Mitch arched his eyebrows.

“You have emotions,” Frederick explained. “Who knew?”

Mitch narrowed his eyes and glared at his brother.

Raising his arms in surrender, Frederick started backing away. “I’ll go to your mate’s campsite to get his things.”

“Bring them to me but don’t go through them.”

“See? I knew you’d come around.” Frederick smiled approvingly. “He’ll appreciate you respecting his privacy.”

“I told you not to look at his stuff because I don’t want your scent all over it. I’m going to look at every damn thing he has, and then I’m going to make him answer all those questions you brought up.”

“Good plan,” Frederick said sarcastically. “Go inside and play evil villain or caveman or whatever. I’ll be back soon.”

Before Mitch could respond, Frederick shifted and bounded off the porch.

Knowing he had to face his mate, which meant being berated again, Mitch sighed. He remembered when Frederick had met Donia. They hadn’t stopped looking at each other, smiling at each other, touching each other. Even when his brother butted heads with his mate, which was inevitable with two Alphas, they spoke kindly to each other, stood close, and gazed fondly at one another. Mitch didn’t have that kind of affection waiting for him inside the house. Still, his mate was in there, and he might be hungry or need to use the facilities or stretch his limbs so, resigned to being yelled at and hit again, Mitch stepped through the front door.

The bedroom was on the opposite end of the house and Mitch’s size made it impossible for him to walk quietly, so he assumed the Omega would know he was coming. When he reached the bedroom without hearing a single shout, threat, or insult, his stomach dropped in fear that his mate had fled. He rushed into the room, darted his gaze around, and saw the slender sleeping form.

Relieved, Mitch stepped over to his bed and gazed down at the man curled up on it. He was thinner than a wolf should be and his eyes had dark circles underneath them, but even in his weakened state, he was gorgeous. Mitch hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told his brother the Omega was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

As Mitch stared, his mate twitched his nose, inhaled, and then sighed contentedly and leaned toward him. In sleep, the Omega recognized and wanted his mate. Now if only Mitch could get him to feel the same way when he was awake. Rolling toward Mitch caused the man’s bound wrists to pull on the bed, and he whimpered and tried again.

“Shhh, you’ll hurt yourself.” His mate was probably average height, but at six-seven, Mitch had at least nine inches on him. Add that to his scrawny frame, and he was delicate compared to Mitch. “I’ll untie you,” Mitch whispered. He reached for the rope and easily tugged the knot free, wincing when he saw red abrasions on the pale skin. He dropped to his knees next to the bed, pulled his mate’s arms toward him, and lapped at the redness on his wrists in apology.

He was licking the last portion of the second wrist, when, in a sleepy voice, his mate asked, “Why do you do that?”

Mitch flicked his gaze up and met hesitant green eyes. “Do what?”

“Lick my wounds.”

“To heal you.”

“Heal me?” His mate’s expression held disbelief, but for the first time since they’d met, he didn’t pull away.

“The saliva helps,” Mitch said, unsure why he’d need to explain something so basic to another shifter. “Our kind heals quickly anyway, but this makes it faster and dulls the pain.”