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Drawing Out His Wolf(19)

By:Charlie Richards


Deke met the gaze of the bigger guy, and the man grinned. "Hey, Mike, your little boy toy is awake."                       
       
           



       

If Deke had had the energy, he would have growled at the man. He hated  being called a boy toy. Just because he was short, lithe, and  occasionally liked to wear eyeliner and lip gloss, he wasn't anyone's  toy, least of all, Michael's.

Michael's face appeared in Deke's line of sight as the man lowered to  his knees in front of him. When Michael reached for him, Deke wanted to  cringe away from him, but he held steady, worried about the odd, almost  manic look in his ex-boyfriend's eyes. His head already hurt, and while  Michael had never hit him before, anything could change.

"Easy, baby," Michael crooned. "Stay still. I'm gonna take this off you."

Deke couldn't help his cringe. Fortunately, Michael must have  interpreted that it was due to the pull of the tape on his lips. In  part, it was, but most of it was due to Michael's hands on him.

"Are you okay, baby?" Michael asked, his thumb tracing over Deke's upper lip.

Trying to decide how to play the situation, Deke whispered, "My head  hurts." It wasn't the only thing that hurt, but normally head injuries  were what people worried about most, right? Besides, he was mated to  Luther. He had increased healing abilities. Any cuts, abrasions, or  bruises gained by bouncing around in the bed of Synthia's pick-up while  she barreled down a dirt road would heal so quickly that, if Michael  kept him long enough, his ex might notice.

Michael slid his other hand through Deke's hair, feeling around his skull.

Deke hissed as pain spiked through his temples.

Glaring, Michael lifted his head and snapped, "What'd you hit him with?"

Synthia shrugged, arms crossed over her breasts, completely unrepentant. "A water glass."

Right, Deke remembered leaving an empty glass on the counter. He'd planned to reuse it.

Note to self, always use the dishwasher.

"That's it?" Michael asked incredulously. "There are two welts here and one is bleeding."

"That explains the sticky feeling," Deke mumbled. Seeing dissention  between them, he murmured, "That must be from when she slammed my head  into the bed of her truck."

Michael stood and rounded on Synthia. "What? Why the fuck would you do that?"

Curling her lip, Synthia snarled, "The little shit wouldn't stop howling. I didn't hit him that hard."

"Well, get lost, bitch," Michael ordered. "I'll take it from here."

Synthia scowled. "You said you were taking him away from here. I want him gone before I leave."

Michael shrugged. "Then you'll have to wait until I remind Deke of his place."

Huffing, Synthia crossed to a chair at a small table set up in the  corner and promptly sat. She crossed her legs primly and lifted one  eyebrow.

The big man still leaning against the wall snickered, drawing attention to him. "You gonna watch us fuck him?"

Deke felt the blood drain from his face. "What?" he squeaked.

Michael returned his attention to Deke, giving him a condescending  smile. "Now, Deke. You didn't think I'd come all the way out here to get  you and not punish you for your bad behavior? I've had to take  emergency vacation leave from work. I've lost money because you forgot  who was in charge." He knelt down and reached for Deke, picking him up.  "I'm going to fuck you, then I'm going to give you to my friends. I'm  sure once they're done, you'll appreciate how giving I am."

Oh, hell, no!

Struggling against Michael's grip, Deke managed to flop out of his hold.  With his hands tied behind his back, he landed awkwardly against his  shoulder. Pain flared through his torso, but Deke ignored it. He tried  to wriggle like an inch worm away from his ex.

Michael glared and grabbed his leg.

Deke kicked out, making contact with Michael's shoulder.

His ex flinched backward. Snarling, Michael lunged forward again. He  grabbed Deke's bound arms and jerked him to his feet. Deke couldn't hold  in his cry of pain as fire shot through his shoulder.

Releasing him with one hand, Michael swatted his ass-hard-as he snapped,  "Damn it, Deke. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, Deke snarled, "I'm not your boyfriend anymore, Michael. I dumped your possessive ass."

Michael's glare turned feral. He pulled back his hand and smacked Deke  across the face. "Oh, baby. You are mine," he declared, his eyes  narrowed in anger. "I'd been using kid gloves with you before, took it  easy on you, but no more. By the time we're finished with you, you'll  have no doubt who you belong to."                       
       
           



       

"No matter what you do to me," Deke gasped, fighting through the  dizzying wave of pain as Michael manhandled him and shoved him onto the  bed. Tumbling onto his back, agony rolled through his shoulder again,  making focusing difficult. Still, he managed to finish, "I'll never be  yours."

Curling his lip, Michael's cold smirk scared Deke even more than his yelling. "You say that now, but you'll change your tune."

Deke would have tried to kick him again when Michael reached down and  gripped his fly. Unfortunately, Michael's friends stepped up on either  side of him and grabbed his legs. With his hands bound behind his back  and his legs held in tight, probably bruising holds, he could do little  more than wriggle his hips.

Too bad that also put strain on his arms, which sent spikes of agony  through his shoulder. As Michael yanked his jeans and underwear down,  Deke wondered idly if it'd been dislocated. Black spots began to mar his  vision. With the hope that if he passed out, Michael would delay his  punishment, he began to wriggle in earnest, jerking this way and that.

Unfortunately, in response, Michael and his friends used their holds to  flip Deke to his stomach. Then, someone pressed a hand to his back just  between his shoulder blades. Another person gripped his hip while a  third hand palmed his right ass cheek.

Deke let out a scream. Hell, maybe he was being kept close enough for someone to hear him.

"Oh, yeah, slut," one of the strangers cackled. "Show me how you like it. Let me hear you."

Deke turned his head and peered up at his captors, struggling with  deciding to shut up just to spite the bastard, or whether he should  scream again. The bigger male grinned widely, obviously enjoying  himself. The more slender man looked a little uncomfortable, but kept  glancing at the bigger guy as if looking for instruction.

Suddenly, all of them froze.

"What was that," the more slender man squeaked.

A howl echoed faintly in the distance.

Deke reacted instantly and howled back. He didn't know if a wolf's howls  actually meant anything, but he figured he could convey pain, which was  easy. Besides, the only wolves around here were shifters. He just hoped  they weren't in league with Synthia.

"Shut him up!" Synthia screamed, appearing beside the bed.

She grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face, cutting him off mid howl.

That answered that. Unfortunately, it also made it hard to breathe. Deke  turned his head the other way, struggling to get enough air into his  lungs.

"You have to get him out of here," Synthia demanded. "All of you. Gone. Now!"

"We'll go when we're damn good and ready," Michael roared.

The sound of breaking glass and splintering wood sounded through the  cabin. Deke tried to peer around the wall of people, but he need not  have worried. They backed away from the bed, splitting down the middle,  revealing a massive black wolf. It appeared grizzled and even a little  old with the few gray hairs on its muzzle. The animal growled, low in  his throat as he stalked toward the group. A second black wolf, this one  slightly smaller and leaner, flanked him.

"You have no business here," Synthia stated, obviously trying to sound stern. "Leave now."

The big wolf ignored her. He leaped onto the bed and began sniffing  Deke. Staying still, Deke tried not to shiver when a cold nose ran  across his naked hip. Then, the shifter's muzzle moved up his  t-shirt-clad back to his neck. He sniffed at Deke's neck, obviously  scenting the claiming mark on his neck.

"Just stay still, Deke," Michael ordered. "We'll, uh, we'll think of something."

Finally, the wolf lifted his head and stared at him, his dark eyes  peering into Deke's own. He cocked his head, glanced around at the  others in the room, then refocused on him. Deke could see the question  in the creature's eyes, clear as day.

"Please, help me," Deke whispered. He didn't recognize the wolf, but the  intelligence was hard to miss. Besides, Frankie had said shifters were  cognizant in animal form. "I'm Luther Caldwell's mate. Synthia kidnapped  me."