“Do you have lovers absolutely everywhere?” Jag shook his head. He couldn’t believe Dex’s audacity, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t Dex’s life or death on the line. “I’ll stalk out there in the bushes. Get to know the situation,” he said and opened the car door.
Dex stalled, but a mischievous smile stretched his mouth. “Okay. In that case, I’ll go knock on my fuckbuddy’s door. Won’t be long, even if he’s home,” he said and once more started the car.
Unbelievable. At this rate, Dex would never find a mate of his own, too distracted to give the time of day to someone who might become the heaven and the stars to him. But it wasn’t the time to care for Dex’s love life when his own was on the line!
Darkness was Jag’s ally, and there was plenty of it in the street. A few mailboxes cast shadows onto the asphalt, but the lamp by Dane’s house wasn’t working, so he crouched and made his way toward Dane’s backyard with ease. He was like a jaguar on the prowl, even in this concrete jungl—
“Fuck,” he swore when an empty can crunched under his foot, but he’d have crawled over broken glass to get to Dane and explain why they were meant for each other.
The wooden fence surrounding the house had a gate, which turned out to be unlocked, so he slid into the garden and hid between a set of trash cans and the side of the building.
The wound in his stomach kept throbbing, and as much as he wanted to resist the urge to lie down in the soft grass under his feet, he ignored the pain radiating down his thigh and walked forward, using the wall to steady himself. The pain medicine he’d gotten from Dex would have to do for now.
Jag couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this weak. Even the fight with the jaguar, which had left him scarred and bleeding, hadn't resulted in this strange combination of nausea and light-headedness.
He’d fight through it though. “Mind over matter” his father had said when he’d cut half his finger off while chopping wood. And then, true to his word, he’d sat still as Mother dressed his wound. If Dane discovered just how weak Jag could be, he’d never see him as the pack leader, so Jag needed to pull himself together and show how resilient he was, despite the injury he’d sustained. If Dane thought he could get rid of his mate by running off like this, he had another thing coming.
He froze when light came on in the first floor window only a few paces away, but when a lock opened ahead, at the back of the house, Jag staggered to the first thing big enough to hide behind—a miniature house made of white and red plastic.
Heavy yet slow footsteps made wooden steps creak, but as Jag peeked from behind the miniature building, blood rushed to his head when he recognized the broad-shouldered silhouette. He willed himself to stay put, as it might be Dane’s brother, but as a single lightbulb came on, its murky glow was enough to reveal blond-brown hair, and then Dane’s face.
A soft sigh escaped Dane’s mouth as he walked right past Jag’s crouching form and opened one of the trash cans, proceeding to fill it with the cardboard and paper he’d brought with him. The noise it made was all the encouragement Jag needed.
His midsection cried out in pain as he rose from behind the tiny house, but he gritted his teeth to swallow a grunt and wobbled toward his mate, glad for the cool grass under his feet.
Every step was agony at this point, but he put his hand over Dane’s mouth to stifle anything he might utter, and pulled back his arm as the edges of his mate’s body blurred.
“I’ve got a gun,” he growled in case Dane wanted to fight him, because if Dane turned back and saw what state Jag was in, all would be lost.
The soft, sensuous mouth that had felt so delightful on Jag’s lips and cock opened against his palm, and air caressed Jag’s hand when Dane breathed in, but he didn’t move otherwise, going stiff as a piece of wood.
Encouraged by his silence, Jag spoke, “I’m here, because you forgot where your place is. I’ll take my hand off, but if you scream, I swear, I’m gonna shoot you.” Jag hated himself a little for being so harsh, for having to scare Dane when all he wanted to do was to cuddle his mate and fulfil his every wish. But nobody respected a weak leader, and if Dane was to ever want him again, Jag needed to prove himself more than ever.
Dane hummed into his hand and reached back, touching Jag’s hip through the hospital gown. Jag should have pulled away and chastised him, but with his head already spinning, he rapidly moved his hand from Dane’s face to his firm shoulder to steady himself..